The Iron Pincers; or, Mylio and Karvel: A Tale of the Albigensian Crusades. Эжен Сю

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      Florette – "I did not wish to irritate my aunt this evening. A refusal might have angered her. She has suspected nothing, and I have been able to come here."

      Mylio – "But to-morrow, when the abbot will come would you consent – "

      Florette – "Mylio, to-morrow you will not be there, as you were a fortnight ago, to dash to my assistance and prevent me from being broken in the wheel of the mill – "

      Mylio – "Do you contemplate dying?"

      Florette – "A fortnight ago and out of fear at the sight of seigneurs the monks, I fell into the water without meaning to – to-morrow I shall voluntarily throw myself into the river. (The young girl wipes her tears with the back of her hand, and drawing from her bosom a little box-wood spindle gives it to the trouvere.) A serf and an orphan, I own nothing in the world but this little spindle. For six years, in order to gain the bread that my aunt frequently begrudged me, this spindle has whirled from morning to night between my fingers; but in the last fortnight it has more than once stood still, every time I interrupted my work to think of you, Mylio – of you who saved my life. I therefore now ask you as a favor that you keep the spindle as a souvenir of me, poor wretched serf!"

      Mylio (with tears in his eyes and pressing the spindle to his lips) – "Dear little spindle, thou, the companion of the lonely watches of the little spinner; thou, who earned for her a bitter enough daily bread; thou, that, lost in revery, she often contemplated hanging from a single thread; dear little spindle, I shall ever keep thee, thou shalt be my most precious treasure. (He takes from his fingers several gold rings ornamented with precious stones and throws them into the stream that runs at his feet.) To the devil with all these impure souvenirs!"

      Florette – "Why do you cast these rings into the water? Why do you throw them away? Why that imprecation?"

      Mylio – "Go! Go! ye shameful souvenirs of an impure life! Ephemeral pledges of a love as fickle as the waters that are now carrying you away! Go! I prefer the spindle of Florette!"

      Florette (takes and kisses the trouvere's hands, and murmurs amid tears) – "Oh, Mylio! I shall die happy!"

      Mylio (closing her in his arms) – "Die! You, die? Sweet, dear child, no! Oh, no! Will you follow me?"

      Florette (sadly) – "You are trifling with me. What an offer do you make to me!"

      Mylio – "Will you accompany me? I know in Blois a worthy woman, to whose house I shall take you. You will remain hidden in the house two or three days. We shall then depart for Languedoc, where I shall meet my brother. During the journey you shall be my sister; upon our arrival you will become my wife. My brother will bless our union. Will you entrust yourself to me? Will you follow me on the spot? Will you come to my country and live near my brother? All that I am telling you can be easily done."

      Florette (has listened to the trouvere with increasing astonishment, she passes her two hands over her forehead and says in a tremulous voice) – "Am I dreaming? Is it yourself who ask me whether I would follow you? Whether I would consent to be your wife?"

      Mylio (kneels down before the young serf, takes her two hands and answers passionately) – "Yes, sweet child. It is myself who am saying to you: 'Come, you shall be my wife! Will you be Mylio's?'"

      Florette – "Whether I will? To leave hell for paradise? Yes, I consent to follow you!"

      Mylio (rises and listens in the direction of the hedge) – "It is the voice of Goose-Skin! He is calling for help! What can have happened!"

      Florette (clasping her hands in despair) – "Oh! I knew it! It was a dream!"

      Mylio (draws his sword and takes the girl's hand) – "Follow me, dear child; fear nothing. Mylio will know how to defend you."

      The trouvere walks rapidly towards the hedge, holding Florette by the hand. The cries of Goose-Skin redouble in the measure that Mylio approaches the hedge that surrounds the garden of the mill, and behind which he causes Florette to conceal herself with the recommendation that she remain silent and motionless. He then leaps over the enclosure, and by the light of the moon he perceives the juggler puffing and blowing and wrestling with a man whose face is concealed under the hood of his brown cloak. At the sight of Mylio running to his help, Goose-Skin redoubles his efforts and succeeds in throwing his adversary down. Turning thereupon his own enormous weight to account, and thereby easily keeping the hooded man under him, the juggler, who is now out of breath with the struggle, lays himself face down, flat upon his adversary, who, feeling himself crushed under the extraordinary weight, gasps in a rage: "Wretch – vagabond – to – smother – me!"

      Goose-Skin (panting for breath) – "Ouf! After victory how delightful, how glorious to rest on one's laurels! Victory! Victory, Mylio! The monster is overcome!"

      The Hooded Man – "I die – under – this mountain of flesh! Help! Help! – I die – Help!"

      Mylio – "My old Goose-Skin, I shall never forget the service that you have rendered me. Do not move. Keep that fellow down! Do not allow him to rise and flee."

      Goose-Skin (stretching himself more and more at his ease over the prostrate body of his adversary) – "Even if I wanted to rise, I could not, I am so completely out of breath. Besides, I feel myself quite comfortable upon the round cushion under me."

      The Hooded Man – "Help! Murder! This beggar is breaking my ribs – Help!"

      Mylio (quickly stooping down) – "I know this voice! (He removes the hood that hides the face of the vanquished man) Abbot Reynier! The superior of the Abbey of Citeaux!"

      Goose-Skin (with a rude up-and-down wabble that draws a moan from the monk) – "An abbot! I have the round body of an abbot for mattress! Oxhorns! Suppose I take a nap! I would surely dream of pretty nuns and good fare!"

      Mylio (to the monk) – "Ha! Ha! Sir Ribald! Consumed by your lustful appetite you could not wait until to-morrow to eat the dainty dish of fritters that you yesterday spoke about to me. Aye, driven by your voracious hunger, you meant to introduce yourself this very night into the house of the infamous Chaillotte, feeling assured that she would be ready to dance attendance upon you at all hours! Ha! Ha! Sir Priapus! You are there like a fox caught in a trap!"

      Goose-Skin – "I was hidden in the shadow, when I saw this fellow slinking up to the hedge and making ready to climb it. Like a true Caesar, I fell upon him when he was out of his balance – and I shall hold him. I am on top! The enemy is vanquished!"

      Abbot Reynier – "Oh, you brace of vile jugglers! You will pay dearly for this outrage!"

      Mylio – "You speak truly, Reynier, abbot superior of the monks of Citeaux of the Abbey of St. Victor! To-morrow it will be daylight, and that daylight will expose your shame! You tonsured hypocrites may impose upon simpletons and fools, but my valiant friend Goose-Skin and myself are neither simpletons nor poltroons! We also enjoy a certain power! Now, remember this, Sir Ribald. Should you be foolhardy enough to try to do us some injury in revenge for this night's affair, we shall put it into a song – Goose-Skin for the taverns, myself for the castles. By heaven! From one end of Gaul to the other the lay will be sung of 'Reynier, Abbot of Citeaux, going at night to snoop fritters at Chaillotte's, the miller's wife, and getting only blows for his pains.'"

      Goose-skin – "You fat monastic debauchee, trust to me for adding all the needed zest to the music!"

      Abbot Reynier (panting for breath) – "You are sacrilegious wretches – I am here at your mercy – I promise СКАЧАТЬ