Claude's Confession and Other Early Novels of Émile Zola. Ðмиль ЗолÑ
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Название: Claude's Confession and Other Early Novels of Émile Zola
Автор: Ðмиль ЗолÑ
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788027231713
isbn:
My friends, I trembled before the truth. I understood and I wept. The question seemed to me simple, clear and self-evident. Laurence’s words had frightened without disgusting me. I had not dreamed of her coming; but she came and I received her. I cannot, brothers, explain to you what were my feelings. My mind of twenty years had accepted in their absolute sense those words which admitted of no hesitation: “You are mine and I am yours!”
The next morning, when I awoke and found Laurence in my room, I felt my heart ready to burst with anguish. The scene of the past night was effaced. I no longer heard the true and rude words which had made me receive the girl. The brutal fact alone remained.
I looked at her as she slept. I saw her for the first time by daylight, without her face having the strange beauty of suffering or despair. When she thus appeared to me, ugly and prematurely old, plunged into a heavy, brutish slumber, I trembled before that faded and common countenance which I did not recognize. I could not comprehend how it was that I had awakened in such company. I seemed as if I had come out of a dream, and the reality proved so horrible that I had forgotten what had made me accept it.
But what difference did it make whether it was pity, justice or mercy. The girl was there. Ah! brothers, can I shed enough tears, and will you have sufficient courage to dry them!
CHAPTER VIII.
A MISSION FROM ON HIGH.
YES, I think as you do; I wish still to hope, I wish to make this fatal union a source of noble aspirations.
Formerly, when our thoughts drifted, towards such unfortunate creatures as Laurence, we felt only mercy and pity for them. We discerned the holy task of redemption. We asked God to send us a dead soul, that we might, by kindly and gentle ways, restore it to youth and purity.
The faith of our sixteenth year, we thought, ought to make sinners believe and bow the head.
Then, we were Didier, pardoning Marion and acknowledging her as a wife at the foot of the scaffold. We lifted the sinner to the height of our tenderness.
Well, now I can be Didier. Marion, as sinful as the day he pardoned her, is here. She needs the white robe of purity, a hand to guide her wavering steps aright, to steady her in the narrow and difficult path which leads to the happiness of innocence. Her pale face requires a pure atmosphere to restore to it the glow of youthful health. What we wished for in our sainted hallucinations I have found without searching for it.
Since Laurence has come to me, I wish to erase all the evil instincts of her heart, to give it the healthful tone and freshness of mine. I will be a priest for this poor wretch: I will lift her up, console and pardon her.
Who knows, brothers, but that this is a supreme trial, an appointed task, that God has sent me! Perhaps, it is His wish, in charging me with a soul, to develop all the latent strength of mine. Perhaps, He has reserved for me the office of the strong, and does not fear to entrust me with the reformation of a human being. I will be worthy of His choice.
CHAPTER IX.
THE COURSE OF REFORMATION.
I DESIRE to make Laurence forget what she is, to deceive her in regard to herself by the genuine friendship I show her. I speak to her only with gentleness; my words are always grave and carefully chosen.
Whenever she utters any of the slang of the street, I feign not to hear her. I inculcate the lessons of innocence, and treat her as a sister who has need of instruction. I oppose a calm and thoughtful life to her noisy life of the past. I pretend to ignore that this existence is not hers; I endeavor to be so natural in the imposition that, in the end, she will doubt that she ever lived otherwise.
Yesterday, in the street, a man insulted her. She was about to return insult for insult. I did not give her time. I approached the man, who was intoxicated, and caught him by the wrist, commanding him to respect my wife.
“Your wife!” cried he, ironically. “I know all about such wives!”
Then, I shook him violently, repeating my order in a sterner tone. He stammered out something and slunk away, begging pardon. Laurence silently resumed my arm, apparently confused by the title of wife which I had bestowed upon her.
I well know that too much austerity is not advisable. I do not hope for a sudden return to good; I wish to manage a skilful and gradual transition, which shall prevent her poor, sick eyes from being wounded by the light. There lies the whole difficulty of the task.
I have noticed that such girls as Laurence, women before their time, long keep the thoughtlessness and childishness of the infant. They are wearied and would yet willingly play with the doll. A trifle amuses them, makes them burst out laughing; they find again, unconsciously, the astonishment and caressing babble of little girls of five. I have taken advantage of this observation. I give Laurence gewgaws which make us great friends for an hour.
You cannot imagine the deep emotion this strange education has awakened in me. When I think I have made Laurence’s dead heart beat, I am tempted to kneel and thank God. Without doubt, I exaggerate the sanctity of my mission. I say to myself that the love of a pure creature would sanctify me less than the devotion this poor girl will some day feel for me.
That day is yet afar off. My companion is embarrassed by my respect for her. She, whom insults do not affect, colors to the roots of her hair when I talk to her in a brotherly fashion, intent upon my good work. Sometimes, I see her hesitate before answering me, apparently doubting that it was to her I had spoken. She is amazed at not being reproached, and seems ill at ease because of my delicate attentions. The mask of innocence, which I have forced her to put on, worries her: she knows not how to bear esteem. Often I surprise a smile on her lips; she must think that I am mocking her, and this smile seems to ask me to kindly stop joking.
In the evening, at bedtime, she puts out the candle before undressing; she draws over her the corners of the coverings, and takes advantage of my sleep to leap from her couch in the morning. When she talks, she selects her words; following my example, she avoids being familiar with me.
I cannot tell why these precautions disturb me: I see in them more of constraint than true repentance. I feel that she acts and talks as she does out of fear of displeasing me, but that, so far as she herself is concerned, she is indifferent about her behavior and would as soon talk the language of the markets as not. She cannot have acquired so quickly a knowledge of her errors. I tell you, brothers, Laurence is afraid of me: such is the result of a week of respect.
As soon as she rises, she makes a grand toilet; she runs to the looking-glass and forgets herself there for an hour. She is in haste to repair the disorders of the night. Her thin locks are let fall, showing bare places on her head; her cheeks, from which the rouge has been rubbed, are pale and faded. She knows that she no longer has her borrowed youth, and is afraid that I will notice its absence should I turn my gaze upon her. The poor girl, who has lived beneath a coat of paint, fears lest I should drive her away when I see her without it. She combs her hair СКАЧАТЬ