the magic skin-第50章

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silence；　their　presence　became　torture。



One　morning　he　saw　two　men　in　black　prowling　about　in　his

neighborhood；　who　furtively　studied　him　and　took　observations。　They

made　as　though　they　had　come　there　for　a　stroll；　and　asked　him　a　few

indifferent　questions；　to　which　he　returned　short　answers。　He

recognized　them　both。　One　was　the　cure　and　the　other　the　doctor　at　the

springs；　Jonathan　had　no　doubt　sent　them；　or　the　people　in　the　house

had　called　them　in；　or　the　scent　of　an　approaching　death　had　drawn

them　thither。　He　beheld　his　own　funeral；　heard　the　chanting　of　the

priests；　and　counted　the　tall　wax　candles；　and　all　that　lovely　fertile

nature　around　him；　in　whose　lap　he　had　thought　to　find　life　once　more；

he　saw　no　longer；　save　through　a　veil　of　crape。　Everything　that　but

lately　had　spoken　of　length　of　days　to　him；　now　prophesied　a　speedy

end。　He　set　out　the　next　day　for　Paris；　not　before　he　had　been

inundated　with　cordial　wishes；　which　the　people　of　the　house　uttered

in　melancholy　and　wistful　tones　for　his　benefit。



He　traveled　through　the　night；　and　awoke　as　they　passed　through　one　of

the　pleasant　valleys　of　the　Bourbonnais。　View　after　view　swam　before

his　gaze；　and　passed　rapidly　away　like　the　vague　pictures　of　a　dream。

Cruel　nature　spread　herself　out　before　his　eyes　with　tantalizing

grace。　Sometimes　the　Allier；　a　liquid　shining　ribbon；　meandered

through　the　distant　fertile　landscape；　then　followed　the　steeples　of

hamlets；　hiding　modestly　in　the　depths　of　a　ravine　with　its　yellow

cliffs；　sometimes；　after　the　monotony　of　vineyards；　the　watermills　of

a　little　valley　would　be　suddenly　seen；　and　everywhere　there　were

pleasant　chateaux；　hillside　villages；　roads　with　their　fringes　of

queenly　poplars；　and　the　Loire　itself；　at　last；　with　its　wide　sheets

of　water　sparkling　like　diamonds　amid　its　golden　sands。　Attractions

everywhere；　without　end！　This　nature；　all　astir　with　a　life　and

gladness　like　that　of　childhood；　scarcely　able　to　contain　the　impulses

and　sap　of　June；　possessed　a　fatal　attraction　for　the　darkened　gaze　of

the　invalid。　He　drew　the　blinds　of　his　carriage　windows；　and　betook

himself　again　to　slumber。



Towards　evening；　after　they　had　passed　Cesne；　he　was　awakened　by

lively　music；　and　found　himself　confronted　with　a　village　fair。　The

horses　were　changed　near　the　marketplace。　Whilst　the　postilions　were

engaged　in　making　the　transfer；　he　saw　the　people　dancing　merrily；

pretty　and　attractive　girls　with　flowers　about　them；　excited　youths；

and　finally　the　jolly　wine…flushed　countenances　of　old　peasants。

Children　prattled；　old　women　laughed　and　chatted；　everything　spoke　in

one　voice；　and　there　was　a　holiday　gaiety　about　everything；　down　to

their　clothing　and　the　tables　that　were　set　out。　A　cheerful　expression

pervaded　the　square　and　the　church；　the　roofs　and　windows；　even　the

very　doorways　of　the　village　seemed　likewise　to　be　in　holiday　trim。



Raphael　could　not　repress　an　angry　exclamation；　nor　yet　a　wish　to

silence　the　fiddles；　annihilate　the　stir　and　bustle；　stop　the　clamor；

and　disperse　the　ill…timed　festival；　like　a　dying　man；　he　felt　unable

to　endure　the　slightest　sound；　and　he　entered　his　carriage　much

annoyed。　When　he　looked　out　upon　the　square　from　the　window；　he　saw

that　all　the　happiness　was　scared　away；　the　peasant　women　were　in

flight；　and　the　benches　were　deserted。　Only　a　blind　musician；　on　the

scaffolding　of　the　orchestra；　went　on　playing　a　shrill　tune　on　his

clarionet。　That　piping　of　his；　without　dancers　to　it；　and　the　solitary

old　man　himself；　in　the　shadow　of　the　lime…tree；　with　his　curmudgeon's

face；　scanty　hair；　and　ragged　clothing；　was　like　a　fantastic　picture

of　Raphael's　wish。　The　heavy　rain　was　pouring　in　torrents；　it　was　one

of　those　thunderstorms　that　June　brings　about　so　rapidly；　to　cease　as

suddenly。　The　thing　was　so　natural；　that；　when　Raphael　had　looked　out

and　seen　some　pale　clouds　driven　over　by　a　gust　of　wind；　he　did　not

think　of　looking　at　the　piece　of　skin。　He　lay　back　again　in　the　corner

of　his　carriage；　which　was　very　soon　rolling　upon　its　way。



The　next　day　found　him　back　in　his　home　again；　in　his　own　room；　beside

his　own　fireside。　He　had　had　a　large　fire　lighted；　he　felt　cold。

Jonathan　brought　him　some　letters；　they　were　all　from　Pauline。　He

opened　the　first　one　without　any　eagerness；　and　unfolded　it　as　if　it

had　been　the　gray…paper　form　of　application　for　taxes　made　by　the

revenue　collector。　He　read　the　first　sentence：



〃Gone！　This　really　is　a　flight；　my　Raphael。　How　is　it？　No　one　can　tell

me　where　you　are。　And　who　should　know　if　not　I？〃



He　did　not　wish　to　learn　any　more。　He　calmly　took　up　the　letters　and

threw　them　in　the　fire；　watching　with　dull　and　lifeless　eyes　the

perfumed　paper　as　it　was　twisted；　shriveled；　bent；　and　devoured　by　the

capricious　flames。　Fragments　that　fell　among　the　ashes　allowed　him　to

see　the　beginning　of　a　sentence；　or　a　half…burnt　thought　or　word；　he

took　a　pleasure　in　deciphering　thema　sort　of　mechanical　amusement。



〃Sitting　at　your　doorexpectedCapriceI　obeyRivalsI；　never！

thy　Paulineloveno　more　of　Pauline？If　you　had　wished　to　leave　me

for　ever；　you　would　not　have　deserted　meLove　eternalTo　die〃



The　words　caused　him　a　sort　of　remorse；　he　seized　the　tongs；　and

rescued　a　last　fragment　of　the　letter　from　the　flames。



〃I　have　murmured；〃　so　Pauline　wrote；　〃but　I　have　never　complained；　my

Raphael！　If　you　have　left　me　so　far　behind　you；　it　was　doubtless

because　you　wished　to　hide　some　heavy　grief　from　me。　Perhaps　you　will

kill　me　one　of　these　days；　but　you　are　too　good　to　torture　me。　So　do

not　go　away　from　me　like　this。　There！　I　can　bear　the　worst　of　torment；

if　only　I　am　at　your　side。　Any　grief　that　you　could　cause　me　would　not

be　grief。　There　is　far　more　love　in　my　heart　for　you　than　I　have　ever

yet　shown　you。　I　can　endure　anything；　except　this　weeping　far　away

from　you；　this　ignorance　of　your〃



Raphael　laid　the　scorched　scrap　on　the　mantelpiece；　then　all　at　once

he　flung　it　into　the　fire。　The　bit　of　paper　was　too　clearly　a　symbol

of　his　own　love　and　luckless　existence。



〃Go　and　find　M。　Bianchon；〃　he　told　Jonathan。



Horace　came　and　found　Raphael　in　bed。



〃Can　you　prescribe　a　draught　for　mesome　mild　opiate　which　will

always　keep　me　in　a　somnolent　condition；　a　draught　that　will　not　be

injurious　although　taken　constantly。〃



〃Nothing　is　easier；〃　the　young　doctor　replied；　〃but　you　will　have　to

keep　on　your　feet　for　a　few　hours　daily；　at　any　rate；　so　as　to　take

your　food。〃



〃A　few　hours！〃　Raphael　broke　in；　〃no；　no！　I　only　wish　to　be　out　of　bed

for　an　hour　at　most。〃



〃What　is　your　object？〃　inquired　Bianchon。



〃To　sleep；　for　so　one　keeps　alive；　at　any　rate；〃　the　patient　answered。

〃Let　no　one　come　in；　not　even　Mlle。　Pauline　de　Wistchnau！〃　he　added　to

Jonathan；　as　the　doctor　was　writing　out　his　prescription。



〃Well；　M。　Horace；　is　there　any　hope？〃　the　old　servant　asked；　going　as

far　as　the　flight　of　steps　before　the　door；　with　the　young　doctor。



〃He　may　live　for　some　time　yet；　or　he　may　die　to…night。　The　chances　of

life　and　death　are　evenly　balanced　in　his　case。　I　can't　understand　it

at　all；〃　said　the　doctor；　with　a　doubtful　gesture。　〃His　mind　ought　to

be　diverted。〃



〃Diverted！　Ah；　sir；　you　don't　know　him！　He　killed　a　man　the　other　day

without　a　word！Nothing　can　divert　him！〃



For　some　days　Raphael　lay　plunged　in　the　torpor　of　this　artificial

sleep。　Thanks　to　the　material　power　that　opium　exerts　over　the

immaterial　part　of　us；　this　man　with　the　powerful　and　active

imagination　reduced　himself　to　the　level　of　those　sluggish　forms　of

animal　life　that　lurk　in　the　depths　of　forests；　and　take　the　form　of

vegetable　refuse；　never　stirring　from　their　place　to　catch　their　easy

prey。　He　had　darkened　the　very　sun　in　heaven；　the　daylight　never

entered　his　room。　About　eight　o'clock　in　the　evening　he　would　leave

his　bed；　with　no　very　clear　consciousness　of　his　own　existence；　he

would　satisfy　the　claims　of　hunger　and　return　to　bed　immediately。　One

dull　blighted　hour　after　another　only　brought　confused　pictures　and

appearances　before　him；　and　lights　and　shadows　against　a　background　of

darkness。　He　lay　buried　in　deep　silence；　movement　and　intelligence

were　completely　annihilated　for　him。　He　woke　later　than　usual　one

evening；　and　found　that　his　dinner　was　not　ready。　He　rang　for

Jonathan。



〃You　can　go；〃　he　said。　〃I　have　made　you　rich；　you　shall　be　happy　in

your　old　age；　but　I　will　not　let　you　muddle　away　my　life　any　longer。

Miserable　wretch！　I　am　hungrywhere　is　my　dinner？　How　is　it？Answer

me！〃



A　satisfied　smile　stole　over　Jonathan's　face。　He　took　a　candle　that

lit　up　the　great　dark　rooms　of　the　mansion　with　its　flickering　light；

brought　his　master；　who　had　again　become　an　automaton；　into　a　great

gallery；　and　flung　a　door　suddenly　open。　Raphael　was　all　at　once

dazzled　by　a　flood　of　light　and　amazed　by　an　unheard…of　scene。



His　chandeliers　had　been　filled　with　wax…lights；　the　rarest　flowers

from　his　conservatory　were　carefully　arranged　about　the　room；　the

table　sparkled　with　silver；　gold；　crystal；　and　porcelain；　a　royal

banquet　was　spreadthe　odors　of　the　tempting　dishes　tickled　the

nervous　fibres　of　the　palate。　There　sat　his　friends；　he　saw　them　among

beautiful　women　in　full　evening　dress；　with　bare　necks　and　shoulders；

with　flowers　in　their　hair；　fair　women　of　every　type；　with　sparkling

eyes；　attractively　and　fancifully　arrayed。　One　had　adopted　an　Irish

jacket；　which　displayed　the　alluring　outlines　of　her　form；　one　wore

the　〃basquina〃　of　Andalusia；　with　its　wanton　grace；　here　was　a　half…

clad　Dian　the　huntress；　there　the　costume　of　Mlle。　de　la　Valliere；

amorous　and　coy；　and　all　of　them　alike　were　given　up　to　the

intoxication　of　the　moment。



As　Raphael's　death…pale　face　showed　itself　in　the　doorway；　a　sudden

outcry　broke　out；　as　vehement　as　the　blaze　of　this　improvised　banquet。

The　voices；　perfumes；　and　lights；　the　exquisite　beauty　of　the　women；

produced　their　effect　upon　his　senses；　and　awakened　his　desires。

Delightful　music；　from　unseen　players　in　the　next　room；　drowned　the

excited　tumult　in　a　torrent　of　harmonythe　whole　strange　vision　was

complete。



Raphael　felt　a　caressing　pressure　on　is　own　hand；　a　woman's　white；

youthful　arms　were　stretched　out　to　grasp　him；　and　the　hand　was

Aquilina's。　He　knew　now　that　this　scene　was　not　a　fantastic　illusion

like　the　fleeting　pictures　of　his　disordered　dreams；　he　uttered　a

dreadful　cry；　slammed　the　door；　and　dealt　his　heartbroken　old　servant

a　blow　in　the　face。



〃Monster！〃　he　cried；　〃so　you　have　sworn　to　kill　me！〃　and　trembling　at

the　risks　he　had　just　now　run；　he　summoned　all　his　energies；　reached

his　room；　took　a　powerful　sleeping　draught；　and　went　to　bed。



〃The　devil！〃　cried　Jonathan；　recovering　himself。　〃And　M。　Bianchon　most

certainly　told　me　to　divert　his　mind。〃



It　was　close　upon　mi