So long as there shall exist, by virtue of law and custom, decrees of damnation pronounced by society, artificially creating hells amid the civilization of earth, and adding the element of human fate to divine destiny; so long as the three great problems of the century-- the degradation of man through pauperism, the corruption of woman through hunger, the crippling of children through lack of light-- are unsolved; so long as socialasphyxia is possible in any part of the world;--in other words, and with a still wider significance, so long as ignorance and poverty exist on earth, books of the nature of Les Miserables cannot fail to be of use.

    HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 1862.

     如果由法律、习俗构成的社会迫害依然存在，在文明高峰期里，人为地变人间为地狱，并让人类天赋幸福蒙受无妄之灾；如果本世纪的三大难题——使男人昏庸的贫穷，使妇女堕落的饥饿，使儿童孱弱的黑暗——尚未解决；如果社会毒害在一些地方仍会发生，换言之，同时也是就更广泛的意义而言，如果仍有蒙昧、贫苦存在于这个世界，则与本书性质相同的著述，都不会是没有益处的。

    一八六二年一月一日于奥特维尔别居

     In 1815, M. Charles-Francois-Bienvenu Myriel was Bishop of D---- He was an old man of about seventy-five years of age; he had occupied the see of D---- since 1806.

    Although this detail has no connection whatever with the real substance of what we are about to relate, it will not be superfluous, if merely for the sake of exactness in all points, to mention here the various rumors and remarks which had been in circulation about him from the very moment when he arrived in the diocese.True or false, that which is said of men often occupies as important a place in their lives, and above all in their destinies, as that which they do. M. Myriel was the son of a councillor of the parliament of Aix; hence he belonged to the nobility of the bar.It was said that his father, destining him to be the heir of his own post, had married him at a very early age, eighteen or twenty, in accordance with a custom which is rather widely prevalent in parliamentary families. In spite of this marriage, however, it was said that Charles Myriel created a great deal of talk.He was well formed, though rather short in stature, elegant, graceful, intelligent; the whole of the first portion of his life had been devoted to the world and to gallantry.

    The Revolution came; events succeeded each other with precipitation; the parliamentary families, decimated, pursued, hunted down, were dispersed.M. Charles Myriel emigrated to Italy at the very beginning of the Revolution.There his wife died of a malady of the chest, from which she had long suffered.He had no children. What took place next in the fate of M. Myriel?The ruin of the French society of the olden days, the fall of his own family, the tragic spectacles of '93, which were, perhaps, even more alarming to the emigrants who viewed them from a distance, with the magnifying powers of terror,--did these cause the ideas of renunciation and solitude to germinate in him?Was he, in the midst of these distractions, these affections which absorbed his life, suddenly smitten with one of those mysterious and terrible blows which sometimes overwhelm, by striking to his heart, a man whom public catastrophes would not shake, by striking at his existence and his fortune?No one could have told:all that was known was, that when he returned from Italy he was a priest.

    In 1804, M. Myriel was the Cure of B---- (Brignolles). He was already advanced in years, and lived in a very retired manner.

    About the epoch of the coronation, some petty affair connected with his curacy--just what, is not precisely known--took him to paris.Among other powerful persons to whom he went to solicit aid for his parishioners was M. le Cardinal Fesch.One day, when the Emperor had come to visit his uncle, the worthy Cure, who was waiting in the anteroom, found himself present when His Majesty passed.Napoleon, on finding himself observed with a certain curiosity by this old man, turned round and said abruptly:--

    "Who is this good man who is staring at me?"
    "Sire," said M. Myriel, "you are looking at a good man, and I at a great man.Each of us can profit by it."

    That very evening, the Emperor asked the Cardinal the name of the Cure, and some time afterwards M. Myriel was utterly astonished to learn that he had been appointed Bishop of D----

    What truth was there, after all, in the stories which were invented as to the early portion of M. Myriel's life?No one knew. Very few families had been acquainted with the Myriel family before the Revolution.

    M. Myriel had to undergo the fate of every newcomer in a little town, where there are many mouths which talk, and very few heads which think. He was obliged to undergo it although he was a bishop, and because he was a bishop.But after all, the rumors with which his name was connected were rumors only,--noise, sayings, words; less than words-- palabres, as the energetic language of the South expresses it.

    However that may be, after nine years of episcopal power and of residence in D----, all the stories and subjects of conversation which engross petty towns and petty people at the outset had fallen into profound oblivion.No one would have dared to mention them; no one would have dared to recall them.

    M. Myriel had arrived at D---- accompanied by an elderly spinster, Mademoiselle Baptistine, who was his sister, and ten years his junior.

    Their only domestic was a female servant of the same age as Mademoiselle Baptistine, and named Madame Magloire, who, after having been the servant of M. le Cure, now assumed the double title of maid to Mademoiselle and housekeeper to Monseigneur.

    Mademoiselle Baptistine was a long, pale, thin, gentle creature; she realized the ideal expressed by the word "respectable"; for it seems that a woman must needs be a mother in order to be venerable. She had never been pretty; her whole life, which had been nothing but a succession of holy deeds, had finally conferred upon her a sort of pallor and transparency; and as she advanced in years she had acquired what may be called the beauty of goodness. What had been leanness in her youth had become transparency in her maturity; and this diaphaneity allowed the angel to be seen. She was a soul rather than a virgin.Her person seemed made of a shadow; there was hardly sufficient body to provide for sex; a little matter enclosing a light; large eyes forever drooping;-- a mere pretext for a soul's remaining on the earth.

    Madame Magloire was a little, fat, white old woman, corpulent and bustling; always out of breath,--in the first place, because of her activity, and in the next, because of her asthma.

    On his arrival, M. Myriel was installed in the episcopal palace with the honors required by the Imperial decrees, which class a bishop immediately after a major-general. The mayor and the president paid the first call on him, and he, in turn, paid the first call on the general and the prefect.

    The installation over, the town waited to see its bishop at work.

     一八一五年，迪涅①的主教是查理•佛朗沙•卞福汝•米里哀先生。他是个七十五岁左右的老人；从一八○六年起，开始担任迪涅区主教之职。
①迪涅（Digne）在法国南部，为下阿尔卑斯省的省会名称。

    虽然这些小事同我们将要叙述的故事的主题无关，但为了全面精确起见，在此提一提在他就任之初，人们所传播的有关他的一些风言风语也并非多余。大众关于某些人的传说，无论是真是假，在他们的生活中，尤其是在他们的命运中所占的地位，往往和他们自己所作的事是同等重要的。米里哀先生是艾克斯法院一个参议的儿子，就是所谓司法界的贵族。据说他的父亲因为要他继承②此职，很早就按照司法界贵族家庭间相当普遍的习惯，在他十八岁或二十岁，为他完了婚。米里哀先生虽已结婚，据说仍常常惹起别人的议论。他品貌不俗，虽然身材颇小，但是生得俊秀，风度翩翩，谈吐隽逸；他一生的最初阶段完全消磨在交际场所和与妇女们的厮混中。
②那时法院的官职是可以买的。并可传给子孙后代

    革命③爆发了，事变交替，司法界贵族家庭因受到摧毁、驱逐、迫捕而东奔西散了。当革命刚开始时，米里哀先生便逃亡到意大利。他的妻子因害肺病，早已死了。他们一个孩子也没有。此后，他的一生有些什么遭遇呢？法国旧社会的崩溃，他自己家庭的败落，对于一般流亡者可能因远道传闻和恐怖的夸大而显得更加可怕的一七九三年④的种种悲剧，是否使他在思想上产生过消沉和孤独的感受呢？一个人在生活中或财产上蒙受劫难还可能不为所动，但有时一种神秘可怕的打击，打在人的心上，却能使人一蹶不振；一向在欢乐和温情中度日的他，是否受过那种突如其来的打击呢？没有谁说过，我们所知道的只是：他从意大利回来，已经成了教士。
③指一七八九年法国资产阶级革命。④一七九三年是革命达到高潮的那年。

    一八○四年，米里哀先生是白里尼奥的本堂神甫。这时他已经老了，过着足不出户的生活。临近加冕⑤时，他为了本区的一件不太清楚的小事，到巴黎去过一趟。他代表他教区的信众们向上面作了陈述、请求，曾夹在一群显贵中去见过红衣主教费什。一天，皇帝来看他的舅父⑥，这位尊贵的本堂神甫正在前厅候见，皇上也恰巧走过。拿破仑看见这位老人用一双好奇的眼睛瞧着他，便转过身来，突然问道：“瞧着我的那人是谁？”
⑤拿破仑于一八○四年三月十八日称帝，十二月二日加冕。⑥指费什。

    “陛下，”米里哀先生说，“您看着一个汉子，我看着一个天子。彼此都不亏欠。”

    皇帝在当天晚上向红衣主教问明了这位本堂神甫的姓名。不久以后，米里哀先生非常荣幸地得到被任为迪涅主教的消息。此外，人们对米里哀先生初期生活所传说的轶事，哪些是真实的？谁也不知道。很少人知道米里哀这家人在革命以前的情况。任何人初到一个嘴杂、欠缺头脑的小城里总有够他受的，米里哀先生也不例外。即便他是主教，也正因为他是主教，他就得受。总之，与他有关的议论，也许只是一些闲谈而已，内容不外是些传闻，有时甚至连捕风捉影也说不上，照南方人那种强烈的话来说，只是“胡扯”而已。

    不管怎样，他在迪涅担任教职九年以后，当初成为那些小地方人谈话题材的闲话，都完全被丢在脑后了。没有谁再敢提到，甚至没有谁再敢想起那些闲话了。

    米里哀先生到迪涅时有个老姑娘伴着他，这老姑娘便是比他小十岁的妹妹巴狄斯丁姑娘。

    他们的佣人只是一个和巴狄斯丁姑娘同年的女仆，名叫马格洛大娘，现在，她在做了“司锋先生的女仆”后，取得了这样一个双重头衔：姑娘的女仆和主教的管家。

    巴狄斯丁姑娘是个身材瘦长、面貌清癯、性情温厚的人儿，她体现了“可敬”两个字所表达的理想，因为一个妇人如果要达到“可敬”的地步，似乎总得先做母亲。她从不曾有过美丽的时期，她的一生只是一 连串圣洁的工作，这就使她的身体呈现白色和光彩；将近老年时，她具有我们所谓的那种“慈祥之美”。她青年时期的消瘦到她半老时，转成了一种清虚疏朗的神韵，令人想象她是一个天使。她简直是个神人，处女当之也有所逊色。她的身躯，好象是阴影做成的，几乎没有足以显示性别的实体，只是些许透着微光的物质，秀长的眼睛老低垂着，我们可以说她是寄存在人间的天女。

    马格洛大娘是个矮老、白胖、臃肿、忙碌不定、终日气喘吁吁的妇人，一是因为她做事勤劳，二是因为她有气喘玻米里哀先生到任以后，人们依照将主教列在仅次于元帅地位的律令所规定的仪节，把他安顿在主教院里。市长和议长向他作了初访，而他，也向将军和省长作了初访。安排完毕，全城静候主教执行使命。

     The episcopal palace of D---- adjoins the hospital.

    The episcopal palace was a huge and beautiful house, built of stone at the beginning of the last century by M. Henri puget, Doctor of Theology of the Faculty of paris, Abbe of Simore, who had been Bishop of D---- in 1712.This palace was a genuine seignorial residence. Everything about it had a grand air,--the apartments of the Bishop, the drawing-rooms, the chambers, the principal courtyard, which was very large, with walks encircling it under arcades in the old Florentine fashion, and gardens planted with magnificent trees. In the dining-room, a long and superb gallery which was situated on the ground-floor and opened on the gardens, M. Henri puget had entertained in state, on July 29, 1714, My Lords Charles Brulart de Genlis, archbishop; prince d'Embrun; Antoine de Mesgrigny, the capuchin, Bishop of Grasse; philippe de Vendome, Grand prior of France, Abbe of Saint Honore de Lerins; Francois de Berton de Crillon, bishop, Baron de Vence; Cesar de Sabran de Forcalquier, bishop, Seignor of Glandeve; and Jean Soanen, priest of the Oratory, preacher in ordinary to the king, bishop, Seignor of Senez. The portraits of these seven reverend personages decorated this apartment; and this memorable date, the 29th of July, 1714, was there engraved in letters of gold on a table of white marble.

    The hospital was a low and narrow building of a single story, with a small garden.
    Three days after his arrival, the Bishop visited the hospital. The visit ended, he had the director requested to be so good as to come to his house.

    "Monsieur the director of the hospital," said he to him, "how many sick people have you at the present moment?"
    "Twenty-six, Monseigneur."
    "That was the number which I counted," said the Bishop.
    "The beds," pursued the director, "are very much crowded against each other."
    "That is what I observed."
    "The halls are nothing but rooms, and it is with difficulty that the air can be changed in them."
    "So it seems to me."

    "And then, when there is a ray of sun, the garden is very small for the convalescents."
    "That was what I said to myself."
    "In case of epidemics,--we have had the typhus fever this year; we had the sweating sickness two years ago, and a hundred patients at times,--we know not what to do."
    "That is the thought which occurred to me."
    "What would you have, Monseigneur?" said the director."One must resign one's self."

    This conversation took place in the gallery dining-room on the ground-floor.
    The Bishop remained silent for a moment; then he turned abruptly to the director of the hospital.
    "Monsieur," said he, "how many beds do you think this hall alone would hold?"
    "Monseigneur's dining-room?" exclaimed the stupefied director.
    
    The Bishop cast a glance round the apartment, and seemed to be taking measures and calculations with his eyes.
    "It would hold full twenty beds," said he, as though speaking to himself.Then, raising his voice:--

    "Hold, Monsieur the director of the hospital, I will tell you something. There is evidently a mistake here.There are thirty-six of you, in five or six small rooms.There are three of us here, and we have room for sixty.There is some mistake, I tell you; you have my house, and I have yours.Give me back my house; you are at home here."

    On the following day the thirty-six patients were installed in the Bishop's palace, and the Bishop was settled in the hospital.

    M. Myriel had no property, his family having been ruined by the Revolution.His sister was in receipt of a yearly income of five hundred francs, which sufficed for her personal wants at the vicarage.M. Myriel received from the State, in his quality of bishop, a salary of fifteen thousand francs.On the very day when he took up his abode in the hospital, M. Myriel settled on the disposition of this sum once for all, in the following manner. We transcribe here a note made by his own hand:--

NOTE ON THE REGULATION OF MY HOUSEHOLD EXpENSES.

    For the little seminary . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1,500 livres Society of themission . . . . . . . . . . . . . .100 " For the Lazarists of Montdidier . . . . . . . . . .100 " Seminary for foreign missions in paris. . . . . .200 " Congregation of the Holy Spirit . . . . . . . . . .150 " Religious establishments of the Holy Land . . . . .100 " Charitable maternity societies. . . . . . . . . .300 " Extra, for that of Arles. . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 " Work for the amelioration of prisons. . . . . . .400 " Work for the relief and delivery of prisoners . . .500 " To liberate fathers of families incarcerated for debt1,000 " Addition to the salary of the poor teachers of the diocese. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2,000 " public granary of the Hautes-Alpes. . . . . . . .100 " Congregation of the ladies of D----, of Manosque, and of Sisteron, for the gratuitous instruction of poor girls. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1,500 " For the poor. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .6,000 " My personal expenses. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1,000 " ------ Total. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15,000 "

    M. Myriel made no change in this arrangement during the entire period that he occupied the see of D---- As has been seen, he called it regulating his household expenses.

    This arrangement was accepted with absolute submission by Mademoiselle Baptistine.This holy woman regarded Monseigneur of D---- as at one and the same time her brother and her bishop, her friend according to the flesh and her superior according to the Church. She simply loved and venerated him.When he spoke, she bowed; when he acted, she yielded her adherence.Their only servant, Madame Magloire, grumbled a little.It will be observed that Monsieur the Bishop had reserved for himself only one thousand livres, which, added to the pension of Mademoiselle Baptistine, made fifteen hundred francs a year.On these fifteen hundred francs these two old women and the old man subsisted.

    And when a village curate came to D----, the Bishop still found means to entertain him, thanks to the severe economy of Madame Magloire, and to the intelligent administration of Mademoiselle Baptistine.
    One day, after he had been in D---- about three months, the Bishop said:--

    "And still I am quite cramped with it all!"
    "I should think so!" exclaimed Madame Magloire."Monseigneur has not even claimed the allowance which the department owes him for the expense of his carriage in town, and for his journeys about the diocese.It was customary for bishops in former days."
    "Hold!" cried the Bishop, "you are quite right, Madame Magloire."
    And he made his demand.

    Some time afterwards the General Council took this demand under consideration, and voted him an annual sum of three thousand francs, under this heading:Allowance to M. the Bishop for expenses of carriage, expenses of posting, and expenses of pastoral visits.

    This provoked a great outcry among the local burgesses; and a senator of the Empire, a former member of the Council of the Five Hundred which favored the 18 Brumaire, and who was provided with a magnificent senatorial office in the vicinity of the town of D----, wrote to M. Bigot de preameneu, the minister of public worship, a very angry and confidential note on the subject, from which we extract these authentic lines:--

    "Expenses of carriage?What can be done with it in a town of less than four thousand inhabitants?Expenses of journeys?What is the use of these trips, in the first place?Next, how can the posting be accomplished in these mountainous parts?There are no roads. No one travels otherwise than on horseback.Even the bridge between Durance and Chateau-Arnoux can barely support ox-teams. These priests are all thus, greedy and avaricious.This man played the good priest when he first came.Now he does like the rest; he must have a carriage and a posting-chaise, he must have luxuries, like the bishops of the olden days.Oh, all this priesthood! Things will not go well, M. le Comte, until the Emperor has freed us from these black-capped rascals.Down with the pope!(Matters were getting embroiled with Rome.) For my part, I am for Caesar alone." Etc., etc.

    On the other hand, this affair afforded great delight to Madame Magloire. "Good," said she to Mademoiselle Baptistine; "Monseigneur began with other people, but he has had to wind up with himself, after all. He has regulated all his charities.Now here are three thousand francs for us!At last!"

    That same evening the Bishop wrote out and handed to his sister a memorandum conceived in the following terms:--

EXpENSES OF CARRIAGE AND CIRCUIT.

    For furnishing meat soup to the patients in the hospital. 1,500 livres For the maternity charitable society of Aix . . . . . . . 250 " For the maternity charitable society of Draguignan. . . 250 " For foundlings. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 500 " For orphans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 500 " ----- Total. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3,000 "
    Such was M. Myriel's budget.

    As for the chance episcopal perquisites, the fees for marriage bans, dispensations, private baptisms, sermons, benedictions, of churches or chapels, marriages, etc., the Bishop levied them on the wealthy with all the more asperity, since he bestowed them on the needy.

    After a time, offerings of money flowed in.Those who had and those who lacked knocked at M. Myriel's door,--the latter in search of the alms which the former came to deposit.In less than a year the Bishop had become the treasurer of all benevolence and the cashier of all those in distress.Considerable sums of money passed through his hands, but nothing could induce him to make any change whatever in his mode of life, or add anything superfluous to his bare necessities.

    Far from it.As there is always more wretchedness below than there is brotherhood above, all was given away, so to speak, before it was received.It was like water on dry soil; no matter how much money he received, he never had any.Then he stripped himself.

    The usage being that bishops shall announce their baptismal names at the head of their charges and their pastoral letters, the poor people of the country-side had selected, with a sort of affectionate instinct, among the names and prenomens of their bishop, that which had a meaning for them; and they never called him anything except Monseigneur Bienvenu (Welcome). We will follow their example, and will also call him thus when we have occasion to name him.Moreover, this appellation pleased him.

    "I like that name," said he."Bienvenu makes up for the Monseigneur."
    We do not claim that the portrait herewith presented is probable; we confine ourselves to stating that it resembles the original.

     迪涅的主教院紧挨着医院。

    主教院是座广阔壮丽、石料建成的大厦，是巴黎大学神学博士、西摩尔修院院长，一七一二年的迪涅主教亨利•彼惹在前世纪初兴建的。那确是一座华贵的宅院。其中一切都豪华气派，主教的私宅，大小客厅，各种房间，相当宽敞的院子，具有佛罗伦萨古代风格的穹窿的回廓，树木苍翠的园子。楼下朝花园的一面，有间富丽堂皇的游廊式的长厅，一 七一四年七月二十九日，主教亨利•彼惹曾在那餐厅里公宴过这些要人：昂布伦亲王——大主教查理•勃吕拉•德•让利斯；嘉布遣会修士——格拉斯主教安东尼•德•梅吉尼；法兰西祈祷大师——雷兰群岛圣奥诺雷修院院长菲力浦•德•旺多姆；梵斯男爵——主教佛朗沙•德•白东•德•格利翁；格朗代夫贵人——主教凯撒•德•沙白朗•德•福高尔吉尔；经堂神甫——御前普通宣道士——塞内士贵人——主教让•沙阿兰。

    这七个德高望重的人物画像一直装点着那间长厅，“一七一四年七 月二十九日”这个值得纪念的日子，也用金字刻在厅里的一张白大理石碑上。
    而医院却是一所狭窄低陋的房子，只有一层楼，带个小小花园。
    到任三天以后，主教参观了医院。参观完毕，他恭请那位院长到他家里去。

    “院长先生，”他说，“您现在有多少病人？”
    “二十六个，我的主教。”“正和我数过的一样。”主教说。
    “那些病床，”院长又说，“彼此靠得太近了，一张挤着一张的。”
    “我已经注意到了。”
    “那些病房太小了，里面的空气很难流通。”
    “那正是我感觉到的。”
    “并且，即使是在有一线阳光的时候，那园子对刚刚起床的病人们也太小了。”
    “我已经看到了。”
    “传染病方面，今年我们有过伤寒，两年前，有过疹子，有时多到百来个病人，我们真不知道怎么办。”
    “那正是我所想到的。”
    “有什么办法呢，我的主教？”院长说，“我们总得将就些。”

    那次谈话正是在楼下那间游廊式的餐厅里进行的。
    主教沉默了一会突然转向院长。
    “先生，”他说，“您认为，就拿这个厅来说，可以容纳多少床位？”
    “主教的餐厅！”惊惶失措的院长喊了起来。

    主教向厅四周望了望，象是在用眼睛测算。
    “此地足够容纳二十张病床！”他自言自语地说，随着又提高嗓子，“瞧，院长先生，我告诉您，这里显然有了错误。你们二十六个人住在五六间小屋子里，而我们这儿三个人，却有六十个人的地方。这是不对的，我告诉您。您来住我的房子，我去住您的。您把我的房子还我。这儿是您的家。”

    第二天，那二十六个穷人便安居在主教的府上，主教却住在医院里。米里哀先生绝没有财产，因为他的家已在革命时期破落了。他的妹妹每年领着五百法郎的养老金，刚够她个人住在神甫家里的费用。米里哀先生以主教身份从政府领得一万五千法郎的薪俸。在他搬到医院的房子里去住的那天，米里哀先生就一次作出决定，把那笔款分作以下各项用途。我们把他亲手写的一张单子抄在下面。

    我的家用分配

    单教士培养所津贴一千五百利弗传教会津贴一百利弗孟迪第圣拉撒会修士们津贴一百利弗巴黎外方传教会津贴二百利弗圣灵会津贴一百五十利弗圣地宗教团体津贴一百利弗各慈幼会津贴三百利弗阿尔勒慈幼会补助费五十利弗改善监狱用费四百利弗囚犯抚慰及救济事业费五百利弗赎免因债入狱的家长费一千利弗补助本教区学校贫寒教师津贴二千利弗捐助上阿尔卑斯省义仓一百利弗迪涅，玛诺斯克，锡斯特龙等地妇女联合会，贫寒女孩的义务教育费一千五百利弗穷人救济费六千利弗本人用费一千利弗共计一万五千利弗米里哀先生在他当迪涅主教期间，几乎没有改变过这种分配方式。我们知道，他把这称作“分配了他的家用”。这种分配是被巴狄斯丁姑娘以绝对服从的态度所接受。对那位圣女来说，米里哀先生是她的哥哥，同时也是她的主教，是人世间的朋友和宗教中的上司。她爱他，并且极其单纯地敬服他。当他说话时，她俯首恭听；当他行动时，她追随伺候。只有那位女仆马格洛大娘，稍微有些啰嗦。我们已经知道，主教只为自己留下一千利弗，和巴狄斯丁姑娘的养老金合并起来，每年才一千五百法郎。两个老妇人和老头儿都靠那一千五百法郎过活。

    当镇上有教士来到迪涅时，主教先生还有办法招待他们。那是由于马格洛大娘的极其节俭和巴狄斯丁姑娘的精打细算。
    到迪涅约三个月的一天，主教说：
    “这样下去，我真有些维持不了！”
    “当然罗！”马格洛大娘说。“主教大人连省里应给的那笔城区车马费和教区巡视费都没有要来。对从前的那几位主教，原是照例有的。”
    “对！”主教说。“您说得对，马格洛大娘。”
    他提出了申请。

    过了些时候，省务委员会审查了那申请，决定每年给他一笔三千法郎的款子，名义是“主教先生的轿车、邮车和教务巡视津贴。”这件事使当地的士绅们喧哗起来。为这件事，一个帝国元老院①的元老，从前当过五百人院②的元老，曾经赞助雾月十八日政变③，住在迪涅城附近一座富丽堂皇的元老宅邸里，写了一封怨气冲天的密函给宗教大臣皮戈•德•普雷阿麦内先生。我们现在把它的原文节录下来：“轿车津贴？在一个人口不到四千的城里，有什么用处？邮车和巡视津贴？首先要问这种巡视有什么好处，其次，在这样的山区，怎样走邮车？路都没有。只能骑着马走。从迪朗斯到阿尔努堡的那座桥也只能够走小牛车。所有的神甫全一样，又贪又吝。这一个在到任之初，还象个善良的宗教徒，现在却和其他人一样了，他非坐轿车和邮车不行了，他非享受从前那些主教所享受的奢侈品不可了。咳！这些臭神甫！伯爵先生，如果皇上不替我们肃清这些吃教的坏蛋，一切事都好不了。打倒教皇！（当时正和罗马④发生磨擦。）至于我，我只拥护恺撒！”另一边，这件事却使马格洛大娘非常欣慰。
①指拿破仑帝国的元老院，由二十四人组成，为终身任期制。
②一七九五年十月，新兴资产阶级的热月党，根据自己制定的新宪法，由资产者投票选举，成立了元老院（上院）和五百人院（下院）。
③法兰西共和国八年雾月十八日（一七九九年十一月九日），拿破仑发动政变，开始了独裁统治。
④教皇庇护七世于一八○四年到巴黎给拿破仑加冕，后被拘禁在法国。

    “好极了！”她对巴狄斯丁姑娘说。“主教开始只顾别人，现在也非顾自己不可了。他已把他的慈善捐分配停当，这三千法郎总算是我们的了。”

    当天晚上，主教写了这样一张单子交给他的妹妹。

    车马费及巡视津贴供给住院病人肉汤的津贴一千五百利弗艾克斯慈幼会的津贴二百五十利弗德拉吉尼昂慈幼会的津贴二百五十利弗救济被遗弃的孩子五百利弗救济孤儿五百利弗共计三千利弗以上就是米里哀先生的预算表。至于主教的额外开支，以及请求提早婚礼费、特许开斋费、婴孩死前洗礼费、宣教费、为教堂或私立小堂祝圣费、行结婚典礼费等等，这位主教都到有钱人身上去取来给穷人；取得快也给得快。过了不久，各方捐赠的钱财源源而来。富人和穷人都来敲米里哀先生的门，后者来请求前者所留下的捐赠。不到一年功夫，主教便成了一 切慈善捐的保管人和苦难的援助者。大笔大笔的款项都经过他的手，但没有任何东西能稍许改变他的生活方式，或使他在他所必需的用品以外增添一点多余的东西。不但如此，由于社会上层的博爱总敌不过下层的穷苦，我们可以说，所有的钱都早已在收入以前付出了，正象旱地上的水；他白白地收进一 些钱，却永远没有余款；于是他从自己身上搜刮起来。

    主教们习惯把自己的教名全部写在他们的布告和公函头上。当地的穷人，由于一种本能的爱戴，在这位主教的几个名字中，挑选了对他们最有意义的一个，称他为卞福汝①主教。我们也将随时照样用那名字称呼他。他对这个称呼很满意。
①     福汝（Bienvenu）是“欢迎”的意思。
    “我喜欢这名称，”他说，“卞福汝胜过主教大人。”我们并不认为在此地所刻画的形象是逼真的，我们只说它近似而已。

     The Bishop did not omit his pastoral visits because he had converted his carriage into alms.The diocese of D---- is a fatiguing one. There are very few plains and a great many mountains; hardly any roads, as we have just seen; thirty-two curacies, forty-one vicarships, and two hundred and eighty-five auxiliary chapels.To visit all these is quite a task.

     The Bishop managed to do it.He went on foot when it was in the neighborhood, in a tilted spring-cart when it was on the plain, and on a donkey in the mountains.The two old women accompanied him. When the trip was too hard for them, he went alone.

     One day he arrived at Senez, which is an ancient episcopal city. He was mounted on an ass.His purse, which was very dry at that moment, did not permit him any other equipage.The mayor of the town came to receive him at the gate of the town, and watched him dismount from his ass, with scandalized eyes.Some of the citizens were laughing around him."Monsieur the Mayor," said the Bishop, "and Messieurs Citizens, I perceive that I shock you.You think it very arrogant in a poor priest to ride an animal which was used by Jesus Christ.I have done so from necessity, I assure you, and not from vanity."

     In the course of these trips he was kind and indulgent, and talked rather than preached.He never went far in search of his arguments and his examples.He quoted to the inhabitants of one district the example of a neighboring district.In the cantons where they were harsh to the poor, he said:"Look at the people of Briancon! They have conferred on the poor, on widows and orphans, the right to have their meadows mown three days in advance of every one else. They rebuild their houses for them gratuitously when they are ruined. Therefore it is a country which is blessed by God.For a whole century, there has not been a single murderer among them."

     In villages which were greedy for profit and harvest, he said: "Look at the people of Embrun!If, at the harvest season, the father of a family has his son away on service in the army, and his daughters at service in the town, and if he is ill and incapacitated, the cure recommends him to the prayers of the congregation; and on Sunday, after the mass, all the inhabitants of the village--men, women, and children--go to the poor man's field and do his harvesting for him, and carry his straw and his grain to his granary." To families divided by questions of money and inheritance he said: "Look at the mountaineers of Devolny, a country so wild that the nightingale is not heard there once in fifty years.Well, when the father of a family dies, the boys go off to seek their fortunes, leaving the property to the girls, so that they may find husbands." To the cantons which had a taste for lawsuits, and where the farmers ruined themselves in stamped paper, he said:"Look at those good peasants in the valley of Queyras!There are three thousand souls of them. Mon Dieu! it is like a little republic.Neither judge nor bailiff is known there.The mayor does everything.He allots the imposts, taxes each person conscientiously, judges quarrels for nothing, divides inheritances without charge, pronounces sentences gratuitously; and he is obeyed, because he is a just man among simple men." To villages where he found no schoolmaster, he quoted once more the people of Queyras:"Do you know how they manage?" he said."Since a little country of a dozen or fifteen hearths cannot always support a teacher, they have school-masters who are paid by the whole valley, who make the round of the villages, spending a week in this one, ten days in that, and instruct them.These teachers go to the fairs. I have seen them there.They are to be recognized by the quill pens which they wear in the cord of their hat.Those who teach reading only have one pen; those who teach reading and reckoning have two pens; those who teach reading, reckoning, and Latin have three pens.But what a disgrace to be ignorant!Do like the people of Queyras!"

     Thus he discoursed gravely and paternally; in default of examples, he invented parables, going directly to the point, with few phrases and many images, which characteristic formed the real eloquence of Jesus Christ.And being convinced himself, he was persuasive.

     主教先生并不因为他的马车变成了救济款而减少他的巡视。迪涅教区是个苦地方。平原少，山地多，我们刚才已经提到。三十二个司铎区，四十一个监教区，二百八十五个分区。巡视它们很难，这位主教先生却能完成任务。如果近，他就步行；在平原，坐小马车；在山里，就乘骡兜。那两个上了年纪的妇人还陪着他。如果路程对她们太辛苦，他便一 个人去。

     一天，他骑着一头毛驴，走到塞内士，那是座古老的主教城。当时他囊空如洗，不可能有别的坐骑。地方长官来到主教公馆门口迎接他，瞧见他从驴背上下来，觉得有失体统。另外几个士绅也围着他笑。

     “长官先生和各位先生，”主教说，“我知道什么事使你们感到丢人，你们一定认为一个贫苦的牧师跨着耶稣基督的坐骑未免妄自尊大。老实说，我这样做是不得已，并非出自虚荣。”

     他是谦虚和蔼的，在巡视工作中，闲谈居多，说教很少。他从不把品德问题提到高不可攀的地步，也从不向远处去找他的论据和范例。对某一乡的居民，他常叙说邻乡的榜样。在那些对待穷人刻薄的镇上，他说：“你们瞧瞧布里昂松地方的人吧。他们给了穷人，寡妇和孤儿一种特权，使他们可以比旁人早三天割他们草场上的草料。如果他们的房屋要坍了，就会有人替他们重盖，不要工资。这也可算得上是上帝庇佑的地方了。在整整一百年中，从没一个人犯过凶杀案。”

     在那些斤斤计较利润和收获物的村子里，他说：“你们瞧瞧昂布伦地方的人吧。万一有个家长在收割时，因儿子都在服兵役，女孩也在城里工作，而自己又生病不能劳动，本堂神甫就把他的困难在宣道时提出来，等到礼拜日，公祷完毕，村里所有的人，男女老幼都到那感到困难的人的田里，去替他收割，并且替他把麦秸和麦粒搬进仓。”对那些因银钱和遗产问题而分裂的家庭，他说：“你们瞧瞧德福宜山区的人吧。那是一片非常荒凉的地方，五十年也听不到一次黄莺的歌声。可是，当有一家的父亲死了，他的儿子便各自出外谋生，把家产留给姑娘们，好让她们找得到丈夫。”在那些争讼成风，农民每因告状而倾家荡产的镇上，他说：“你们看看格拉谷的那些善良的老乡吧。那里有三千人口。我的上帝！那真象一个小小的共和国。他们既不知道有审判官，也不知道有执法官。乡长处理一切。他分配捐税，凭良心向各人抽捐，义务地排解纠纷，替人分配遗产，不取酬金，判处案情，不收讼费；大家也都服他，因为他是那些简朴的人中一个正直的人。”在那些没有老师的村子，他又谈到格拉谷的居民了：“你们知道他们怎么做的？”他说，“一 个只有十家到十五家人口的小地方，自然不能经常供养一个乡村教师，于是他们全谷公聘几个教师，在各村巡回教学，在这村停留八天，那村停留十天。那些教师常到市集上去，我常在那些地方遇见他们。我们只须看插在帽带上的鹅毛笔，就可以认出他们来。那些只教人读书的带一 管笔，他们都是很有学问的人。做一个无知无识的人多么可羞！你们向格拉谷的居民学习吧。”

     他象父兄那样谈着；缺少例证时，他就想一些言浅意深的话，用简明的语句和丰富的想象，表达他的意思；那正是耶稣基督的辩才，自信而使人信服。

     His conversation was gay and affable.He put himself on a level with the two old women who had passed their lives beside him. When he laughed, it was the laugh of a schoolboy.Madame Magloire liked to call him Your Grace (Votre Grandeur). One day he rose from his arm-chair, and went to his library in search of a book. This book was on one of the upper shelves.As the bishop was rather short of stature, he could not reach it."Madame Magloire," said he, "fetch me a chair.My greatness (grandeur) does not reach as far as that shelf."

     One of his distant relatives, Madame la Comtesse de Lo, rarely allowed an opportunity to escape of enumerating, in his presence, what she designated as "the expectations" of her three sons. She had numerous relatives, who were very old and near to death, and of whom her sons were the natural heirs.The youngest of the three was to receive from a grand-aunt a good hundred thousand livres of income; the second was the heir by entail to the title of the Duke, his uncle; the eldest was to succeed to the peerage of his grandfather.The Bishop was accustomed to listen in silence to these innocent and pardonable maternal boasts.On one occasion, however, he appeared to be more thoughtful than usual, whileMadame de Lo was relating once again the details of all these inheritances and all these "expectations."She interrupted herself impatiently: "Mon Dieu, cousin!What are you thinking about?""I am thinking," replied the Bishop, "of a singular remark, which is to be found, I believe, in St. Augustine,--`place your hopes in the man from whom you do not inherit.'"

     At another time, on receiving a notification of the decease of a gentleman of the country-side, wherein not only the dignities of the dead man, but also the feudal and noble qualifications of all his relatives, spread over an entire page:"What a stout back Death has!" he exclaimed."What a strange burden of titles is cheerfully imposed on him, and how much wit must men have, in order thus to press the tomb into the service of vanity!"

     He was gifted, on occasion, with a gentle raillery, which almost always concealed a serious meaning.In the course of one Lent, a youthful vicar came to D----, and preached in the cathedral. He was tolerably eloquent.The subject of his sermon was charity. He urged the rich to give to the poor, in order to avoid hell, which he depicted in the most frightful manner of which he was capable, and to win paradise, which he represented as charming and desirable. Among the audience there was a wealthy retired merchant, who was somewhat of a usurer, named M. Geborand, who had amassed two millions in the manufacture of coarse cloth, serges, and woollen galloons. Never in his whole life had M. Geborand bestowed alms on any poor wretch. After the delivery of that sermon, it was observed that he gave a sou every Sunday to the poor old beggar-women at the door of the cathedral. There were six of them to share it.One day the Bishop caught sight of him in the act of bestowing this charity, and said to his sister, with a smile, "There is M. Geborand purchasing paradise for a sou."

     When it was a question of charity, he was not to be rebuffed even by a refusal, and on such occasions he gave utterance to remarks which induced reflection.Once he was begging for the poor in a drawing-room of the town; there was present the Marquis de Champtercier, a wealthy and avaricious old man, who contrived to be, at one and the same time, an ultra-royalist and an ultra-Voltairian. This variety of man has actually existed.When the Bishop came to him, he touched his arm, "You must give me something, M. le Marquis." The Marquis turned round and answered dryly, "I have poor people of my own, Monseigneur.""Give them to me," replied the Bishop.

     One day he preached the following sermon in the cathedral:--

     "My very dear brethren, my good friends, there are thirteen hundred and twenty thousand peasants' dwellings in France which have but three openings; eighteen hundred and seventeen thousand hovels which have but two openings, the door and one window; and three hundred and forty-six thousand cabins besides which have but one opening, the door.And this arises from a thing which is called the tax on doors and windows.Just put poor families, old women and little children, in those buildings, and behold the fevers and maladies which result!Alas!God gives air to men; the law sells it to them. I do not blame the law, but I bless God.In the department of the Isere, in the Var, in the two departments of the Alpes, the Hautes, and the Basses, the peasants have not even wheelbarrows; they transport their manure on the backs of men; they have no candles, and they burn resinous sticks, and bits of rope dipped in pitch. That is the state of affairs throughout the whole of the hilly country of Dauphine.They make bread for six months at one time; they bake it with dried cow-dung. In the winter they break this bread up with an axe, and they soak it for twenty-four hours, in order to render it eatable.My brethren, have pity! behold the suffering on all sides of you!"

     Born a provencal, he easily familiarized himself with the dialect of the south.He said, "En be! moussu, ses sage?" as in lower Languedoc; "Onte anaras passa?" as in the Basses-Alpes; "puerte un bouen moutu embe un bouen fromage grase," as in upper Dauphine.This pleased the people extremely, and contributed not a little to win him access to all spirits.He was perfectly at home in the thatched cottage and in the mountains.

     He understood how to say the grandest things in the most vulgar of idioms.As he spoke all tongues, he entered into all hearts.
     Moreover, he was the same towards people of the world and towards the lower classes.He condemned nothing in haste and without taking circumstances into account.He said, "Examine the road over which the fault has passed."

     Being, as he described himself with a smile, an ex-sinner, he had none of the asperities of austerity, and he professed, with a good deal of distinctness, and without the frown of the ferociously virtuous, a doctrine which may be summed up as follows:--

     "Man has upon him his flesh, which is at once his burden and his temptation.He drags it with him and yields to it. He must watch it, cheek it, repress it, and obey it only at the last extremity.There may be some fault even in this obedience; but the fault thus committed is venial; it is a fall, but a fall on the knees which may terminate in prayer.

     "To be a saint is the exception; to be an upright man is the rule. Err, fall, sin if you will, but be upright.
     "The least possible sin is the law of man.No sin at all is the dream of the angel.All which is terrestrial is subject to sin. Sin is a gravitation."

     When he saw everyone exclaiming very loudly, and growing angry very quickly, "Oh! oh!" he said, with a smile; "to all appearance, this is a great crime which all the world commits.These are hypocrisies which have taken fright, and are in haste to make protest and to put themselves under shelter."

     He was indulgent towards women and poor people, on whom the burden of human society rest.He said, "The faults of women, of children, of the feeble, the indigent, and the ignorant, are the fault of the husbands, the fathers, the masters, the strong, the rich, and the wise."
He said, moreover, "Teach those who are ignorant as many things as possible; society is culpable, in that it does not afford instruction gratis; it is responsible for the night which it produces. This soul is full of shadow; sin is therein committed.The guilty one is not the person who has committed the sin, but the person who has created the shadow."

     It will be perceived that he had a peculiar manner of his own of judging things:I suspect that he obtained it from the Gospel.

     One day he heard a criminal case, which was in preparation and on the point of trial, discussed in a drawing-room. A wretched man, being at the end of his resources, had coined counterfeit money, out of love for a woman, and for the child which he had had by her. Counterfeiting was still punishable with death at that epoch. The woman had been arrested in the act of passing the first false piece made by the man.She was held, but there were no proofs except against her.She alone could accuse her lover, and destroy him by her confession.She denied; they insisted.She persisted in her denial.Thereupon an idea occurred to the attorney for the crown. He invented an infidelity on the part of the lover, and succeeded, by means of fragments of letters cunningly presented, in persuading the unfortunate woman that she had a rival, and that the man was deceiving her.Thereupon, exasperated by jealousy, she denounced her lover, confessed all, proved all.

     The man was ruined.He was shortly to be tried at Aix with his accomplice.They were relating the matter, and each one was expressing enthusiasm over the cleverness of the magistrate. By bringing jealousy into play, he had caused the truth to burst forth in wrath, he had educed the justice of revenge.The Bishop listened to all this in silence.When they had finished, he inquired,--

     "Where are this man and woman to be tried?"
     "At the Court of Assizes."
     He went on, "And where will the advocate of the crown be tried?"

     A tragic event occurred at D---- A man was condemned to death for murder.He was a wretched fellow, not exactly educated, not exactly ignorant, who had been a mountebank at fairs, and a writer for the public.The town took a great interest in the trial. On the eve of the day fixed for the execution of the condemned man, the chaplain of the prison fell ill.A priest was needed to attend the criminal in his last moments.They sent for the cure. It seems that he refused to come, saying, "That is no affair of mine.I have nothing to do with that unpleasant task, and with that mountebank:I, too, am ill; and besides, it is not my place." This reply was reported to the Bishop, who said, "Monsieur le Cure is right:it is not his place;it is mine."

     He went instantly to the prison, descended to the cell of the "mountebank," called him by name, took him by the hand, and spoke to him. He passed the entire day with him, forgetful of food and sleep, praying to God for the soul of the condemned man, and praying the condemned man for his own.He told him the best truths, which are also the most simple.He was father, brother, friend; he was bishop only to bless.He taught him everything, encouraged and consoled him. The man was on the point of dying in despair.Death was an abyss to him. As he stood trembling on its mournful brink, he recoiled with horror. He was not sufficiently ignorant to be absolutely indifferent. His condemnation, which had been a profound shock, had, in a manner, broken through, here and there, that wall which separates us from the mystery of things, and which we call life.He gazed incessantly beyond this world through these fatal breaches, and beheld only darkness.The Bishop made him see light.

     On the following day, when they came to fetch the unhappy wretch, the Bishop was still there.He followed him, and exhibited himself to the eyes of the crowd in his purple camail and with his episcopal cross upon his neck, side by side with the criminal bound with cords.

     He mounted the tumbril with him, he mounted the scaffold with him. The sufferer, who had been so gloomy and cast down on the preceding day, was radiant.He felt that his soul was reconciled, and he hoped in God.The Bishop embraced him, and at the moment when the knife was about to fall, he said to him:"God raises from the dead him whom man slays; he whom his brothers have rejected finds his Father once more.pray, believe, enter into life:the Father is there." When he descended from the scaffold, there was something in his look which made the people draw aside to let him pass.They did not know which was most worthy of admiration, his pallor or his serenity. On his return to the humble dwelling, which he designated, with a smile, as his palace, he said to his sister, "I have just officiated pontifically."

     Since the most sublime things are often those which are the least understood, there were people in the town who said, when commenting on this conduct of the Bishop, "It is affectation."

     This, however, was a remark which was confined to the drawing-rooms. The populace, which perceives no jest in holy deeds, was touched, and admired him.
     As for the Bishop, it was a shock to him to have beheld the guillotine, and it was a long time before he recovered from it.

     In fact, when the scaffold is there, all erected and prepared, it has something about it which produces hallucination. One may feel a certain indifference to the death penalty, one may refrain from pronouncing upon it, from saying yes or no, so long as one has not seen a guillotine with one's own eyes: but if one encounters one of them, the shock is violent; one is forced to decide, and to take part for or against. Some admire it, like de Maistre; others execrate it, like Beccaria. The guillotine is the concretion of the law; it is called vindicte; it is not neutral, and it does not permit you to remain neutral. He who sees it shivers with the most mysterious of shivers. All social problems erect their interrogation point aroundthis chopping-knife. The scaffold is a vision.The scaffold is not a piece of carpentry; the scaffold is not a machine; the scaffold is not an inert bit of mechanism constructed of wood, iron and cords.

     It seems as though it were a being, possessed of I know not what sombre initiative; one would say that this piece of carpenter's work saw, that this machine heard, that this mechanism understood, that this wood, this iron, and these cords were possessed of will. In the frightful meditation into which its presence casts the soul the scaffold appears in terrible guise, and as though taking part in what is going on.The scaffold is the accomplice of the executioner; it devours, it eats flesh, it drinks blood; the scaffold is a sort of monster fabricated by the judge and the carpenter, a spectre which seems to live with a horrible vitality composed of all the death which it has inflicted.

     Therefore, the impression was terrible and profound; on the day following the execution, and on many succeeding days, the Bishop appeared to be crushed.The almost violent serenity of the funereal moment had disappeared; the phantom of social justice tormented him.He, who generally returned from all his deeds with a radiant satisfaction, seemed to be reproaching himself. At times he talked to himself, and stammered lugubrious monologues in a low voice.This is one which his sister overheard one evening and preserved:"I did not think that it was so monstrous. It is wrong to become absorbed in the divine law to such a degree as not to perceive human law.Death belongs to God alone. By what right do men touch that unknown thing?"

     In course of time these impressions weakened and probably vanished. Nevertheless, it was observed that the Bishop thenceforth avoided passing the place of execution.

     M. Myriel could be summoned at any hour to the bedside of the sick and dying.He did not ignore the fact that therein lay his greatest duty and his greatest labor.Widowed and orphaned families had no need to summon him; he came of his own accord.He understood how to sit down and hold his peace for long hours beside the man who had lost the wife of his love, of the mother who had lost her child.As he knew the moment for silence he knew also the moment for speech.Oh, admirable consoler!He sought not to efface sorrow by forgetfulness, but to magnify and dignify it by hope.He said:--

     "Have a care of the manner in which you turn towards the dead. Think not of that which perishes.Gaze steadily.You will perceive the living light of your well-beloved dead in the depths of heaven." He knew that faith is wholesome.He sought to counsel and calm the despairing man, by pointing out to him the resigned man, and to transform the grief which gazes upon a grave by showing him the grief which fixes its gaze upon a star.

     他谈话随和，令人愉快。他总要求自己适合那两个伴他过活的老妇人的知识水平。当他笑起来，就象小学生。

     马格洛大娘诚心诚意地称他做“大人”。一天，他从他的围椅里站起来走向书橱，要去取一本书。那本书正在顶上的那一格。主教的身材矮小，够不到。

     “马格洛大娘，”他说，“请您搬张椅子给我。本大人还‘大’不到那块木板呢。”

     他有一个远亲，德洛伯爵夫人，一有机会，总爱在他跟前数说她三个儿子的所谓“希望”。她有几个年纪很老行将就木的长辈，她那几个孩子自然是他们的继承人了。幼子将从一个姑祖母那里获得一笔整整十万利弗的年金，第二个承继他叔父的公爵头衔，长子承袭他祖先的世卿爵位。主教平日常听这位做母亲的那些天真可恕的夸耀，从不搭话。但有一次，当德?洛夫人又唠唠叨叨提到那些承继和“希望”时，他仿佛显得比平日更入神一些。她不耐烦地换了话题说：“我的上帝，我的表哥！您到底在想什么？”“我在想，”主教说，“一句怪话，大概出自圣奥古斯丁：‘把你们的希望寄托在那个无可承继者的身上吧。’”另一次，他接到本乡一个贵人的讣告，一大张纸上所铺排的，除了亡人的各种荣衔以外，还把他所有一切亲属的各种封建的和贵族的尊称全列了上去。他叫着说：“死人的脊骨多么结实！别人把一副多么显赫的头衔担子叫他轻轻地背着！这些人也够聪明了，坟墓也被虚荣心所利用！”

     一有机会，他总爱说一些温和的讥讽之词，但几乎都包含着严正的意义。一次，在封斋节，有个年轻的助理主教来到迪涅，在天主堂里讲道。他颇有口才，讲题是“慈善”。他要求富人拯救穷人，以免堕入他尽力形容的那种阴森可怕的地狱，而进入据他所说的非常美妙动人的天堂。在当时的听众中，有个叫惹波兰先生的歇了业的商人，这人平时爱放高利贷，在制造大布、哔叽、毛布和高呢帽时赚了五十万。惹波兰先生一生从没有救助过任何穷人。自那次讲道以后，大家都看见他每逢星期日总拿一个苏①给天主堂大门口的那几个乞讨的老婆婆。她们六个人得去分那个苏。一天，主教看见他又在做那件善事，笑嘻嘻向他的妹妹说：“惹波兰先生又在那儿买他那一个苏的天堂了。”
①苏（Sou），法国辅币名，等于二十分之一法郎，合五生叮。

     谈到慈善事业，即使碰壁他也不退缩，并还会想出一些令人回味的话。一次，他在城里某家客厅里为穷人募捐。在座的有一个商特西侯爵，年老，有钱，吝啬，他有方法同时做极端保皇党和极端伏尔泰②派。那样的怪事是存在的。主教走到他跟前，碰碰他的手臂说：“侯爵先生，您得替我捐几文。”侯爵转过脸去，干脆地回答说：“我的主教，我有我自己的穷人呢。”“把他们交给我就是了。”主教说。
②伏尔泰（Voltaire，1694—1778），一生强烈反对封建制度和贵族僧侣的统治权。

     一天，在天主堂里，他这样布道：
     “我极敬爱的兄弟们，我的好朋友们，在法国的农村中，有一百三十二万所房子都只有三个洞口；一百八十一万七千所有两个洞口，就是门和窗；还有三十四万六千个棚子都只有一个洞口，那就是门。这是因为那种所谓门窗税才弄成这样。请你们替我把一些穷人家、老太婆、小孩子塞在那些房子里吧，瞧热症和疾病有多少！咳！上帝把空气给人，法律却拿空气做买卖。我并不诋毁法律，但我颂扬上帝。在伊泽尔省，瓦尔省，两个阿尔卑斯省，就是上下阿尔卑斯省，那些农民连小车都没有，他们用自己的背去背肥料；他们没有蜡烛，点的是松枝和蘸着松脂的小段绳子。在多菲内省，整个山区也都是那样的。他们做一回面包要吃六个月，并且是用干牛粪烘出来的。到了冬天，他们用斧子把那种面包砍开，放在水里浸上二十四个钟头才能吃。我的弟兄们，发发善心吧！看看你们四周的人何等受罪！”

     他出生在南部，所以很容易掌握南方的各种方言。他学下朗格多克省的方言：“Ehbe！moussn，sessage？”学下阿尔卑斯省的方言：“Onte anaraspassa？”学上多菲内省的方言：“ Puertennbouen moutouembeunbouen froumagegrase。”这样就博得了群众的欢心，大大有助于他去接近各种各样的人。他在茅屋里或山中，好象在自己的家里，他知道用最俚俗的方言去解释最伟大的事物。他能说各种语言，也就能和一切心灵打成一片。
     并且他对上层和大众，一视同仁。

     在没有充分了解周围环境时，他从不草率地判断一件事。他常说：“让我们先看看发生这错误的经过吧。”他本是个回头的浪子，他也常笑着这样说自己。他丝毫不唱严格主义的高调；他大力宣传一种教义，但绝不象那些粗暴的卫道者那样横眉怒目，他那教义大致可以这样概括：“人有肉体，这肉体同时就是人的负担和诱惑。人拖着它并受它的支配。”

     “人应当监视它，管束它，抑制它，只有到最后才服从它。在那种服从里，也还是可以有过失的；但那样犯下的过失是可以得到宽赦的。那是一种堕落，但只落在膝头上，在祈祷中还可以自赎。”

     “做一个圣人，那是特殊情况；做一个正直的人，那却是为人的正道。你们尽管在歧路徘徊，失足，犯错误，但总应当做个正直的人。”
     “尽量少犯错，这是人的准则；不犯错误，那是天使的梦想。尘世的一切都没法无错。错误好比一种地心引力。”
     看见大家吵闹并且轻易动怒时，他常笑嘻嘻地说：“看来这就是我们大家都在犯的严重罪行吧。现在只因为假面具被揭穿急于申辩和掩饰罢了。”
     他对于人类社会受压的妇女和穷人总是宽厚的。他说：“凡是妇女、孩子、仆役、没有力量的、贫困的和没有知识的人的过失，都是丈夫、父亲、主人、豪强者、有钱的和有学问的人的过失。”

     他又说：“对无知识的人，你们应当尽你们的所能多多地教给他们；社会的罪恶在于不搞义务教育；它负有制造黑暗的责任。当一个人的心中充满黑暗，罪恶便在那里滋长起来。有罪的并不是犯罪的人，而是那制造黑暗的人。”

     我们看得出，他有一种独特的判断事物的态度。我怀疑他是从《福音书》中得到这些的。一天，在一个客厅里，他听到大家谈一桩正在研究调查、不久就要交付审判的案子。有个穷苦无知的人，为了他对一个女子和所生孩子的爱，在生路断绝时造了假币。造假币在那个时代是要受极刑的。那女子拿着他所造的第一个假币去用就被捕了。他们把她抓了起来，但是只有她本人犯罪的证据。只有她自己能告发她的情人，送他的命。她不愿招供。他们再三拷问。她仍坚决不说。于是，检察长心生一计。他编造说她的情人变了心，极巧妙地伪造许多信札的断片，来说服那个苦恼的女人，使她相信她有一个情敌，那男子有负心之举。在妒恨悲愤之中，她终于揭发她的情人，一切都吐了，一切都证实了。那男子是无法挽救了。不久他就得在艾克斯和他的同谋女犯一同受审。大家谈着那件事，每个人都称赞那官员的才干，说他能利用妒嫉之心，从而使真相大白，法律的力量也因这种报复的心理而得以发挥。主教静静地听着这一切，等大家说完了，他问道：“那一对男女将在哪里受审？”

     “在地方厅。”他又问：“那么，那位检察长将在什么地方受审呢？”迪涅发生过一件惨事。有个人因谋害人命而被判处死刑。那个不幸的人并非什么读书人，但也不是完全无知之人，他曾在市集上卖技，也摆过书信摊。城里的人对该案非常关注。行刑的前一天，驻狱神甫忽然害了玻必须有个神甫在那受刑的人临终时帮助他。有人去找本堂神甫。他好象有意拒绝，他说：“这不关我事。这种苦差事和那耍把戏的人和我都不相干，我也正害着病，况且那地方不属我的范围。”这答复传到主教那儿，主教说：“本堂神甫说得对。那不属于他的范围，而是属于我的。”

     他立刻跑到监狱去，去到那“耍把戏的人”的牢房里，他叫他的名字，搀着他的手，和他谈话。他在他的身旁整整呆了一天一夜，饮食睡眠全忘了，他为那囚犯的灵魂向上帝祈祷，也祈求那囚犯拯救他自己的灵魂。他和他谈着最善的、亦即最简单的真理。他简直象他的父亲、兄长、朋友；如果不是在祝福祈祷，他完全也不象个主教。他在稳定与安慰他的同时，把一切都教给他了。那个人原是悲痛绝望而死的。此前，死对他好象是个万丈深渊，他就站在那阴惨的边缘上，一面颤栗，一面又魂飞魄散地朝后退。他并未冥顽到对死活也漠不关心的程度。他受到的判决是一种剧烈的震撼，仿佛在他四周的某处，把隔在万物的神秘，与我们所谓生命中间的那堵墙震塌了。从那无法补救的缺口，他不停地望着这世界的外面，而所见的只是一片黑暗。主教却让他见到了一线光明。

     第二天，他们来提这不幸的人，主教仍守在他身边。他跟着他走。他披上紫披肩，颈上挂着主教的十字架，和那被缚在绳索中的监刑者并肩站在大众的面前。

     他同他一道上囚车，一道上断头台。那个受刑者，昨天是那样哀愁，那样垂头丧气，现在却开朗兴奋起来了。他感到他的灵魂得了救，他期待着上帝。主教拥抱了他，当刀将落下时，他说：“人所杀的人，上帝使他复活；弟兄们所驱逐的人会重见天父；祈祷，信仰，到生命里去。

     天父就在前面。”他从断头台上下来时，他的目光里有种东西令众人肃然退立。我们不知道究竟哪一样最使人肃然起敬，是他面色的惨白呢，还是他神圣的宁静。在回到他一惯戏称为“他的宫殿”的那所破屋时，他对他的妹妹说：“我刚举行了一场隆重的大典。”

     最卓越的东西往往也是最难被人了解的东西，因此，城里有许多人都在议论主教那一举动，说他那是娇揉造作。不过那只是上层阶级客厅里的一种说法。对圣事活动没有恶意的民众却感到了，并且十分钦佩主教。

     至于主教，对他而言，看了断头台行刑确实是一种震动；过了许久，他才镇定下来。

     的确，断头台，当它被架起来耸立在那儿时，具有一种使人眩惑的力量；在我们不曾亲眼目睹断头台前，我们对死刑多少还能漠然视之，不表示自己的意见，不置可否；但如果我们见到了一座，那种惊骇实在强烈，我们不得不作出决定，不得不表示赞同或反对。有些人赞叹它，如德梅斯特尔①。有些人痛恨它，如贝卡里亚②。断头台是法律的体现，它的别名是“镇压”，它不是中立的，也不让人中立。看见它的人都会产生最神秘的颤栗。所有的社会问题都在那把板斧的四周打起了它们的问号。断头台是想象。断头台不是一个架子。断头台不是一种机器。断头台并非由木条、铁器和绳索所构成的无生气的机械。它好象是种生物，具有一种说不出的阴森森的能动性。我们可以说那架子能看见，那座机器能听见，那种机械能了解，那些木条铁件和绳索都具有意识。当它的出现把我们的心灵抛入凶险的梦想时，断头台就显得很可怕，并和它所做的一切都结合在一起了。断头台是刽子手的同伙，它在吞噬东西，在吃肉，在饮血。断头台是法官和木工合造的怪物，是一种鬼怪，它以自己所制造的死亡为生命而工作。
①德梅斯特尔（deMaistre，1753—1821），法国神学家。
②贝卡里亚（Beccaria，1738—1794），意大利启蒙运动的著名代表人物，法学家。

     行刑的第二天和许多天以后，主教还表现出惶惶不可终日的样子，那次的印象的确是可怕和深刻的。送死时那种强作的镇静已经消逝了，社会权威下的鬼魂和他纠缠不清，他平常工作回来，一贯心安理得，神采奕奕，这会儿他却老象在责备自己。有时，他自言自语，吞吞吐吐，低声说着一些凄惨的话。下面是一天晚上他妹妹听了后记下来的一段：“我从前还不知道是那么可怕。只专心注意上帝的法则而不关心人的法律，那是错误的。死只属于上帝，人有什么权力过问那件未被认识的事呢？”

     那些印象随着时间渐渐减褪或许竟然消失了，但是人们察觉得到，从此以后，主教总避免经过那刑常人们能在任何时候把主教叫到病人和临死的人的床边。他深知他最大的责任在那儿。不用请，寡妇和孤女的家，他自己就会去。他知道在失去爱妻的男子和失去孩子的母亲身旁静静坐上几个钟头。他既懂得沉默的时刻，也懂得开口的时刻。呵！可敬可佩的安慰人的人！他不用忘却来消除苦痛，却试图去让苦痛显得伟大和光荣。他说：“要注意您对死者的想法。不要在那溃烂的东西上去想。定神去看，您就会在苍穹的尽头看到您亲爱的死者的生命之光。”他知道信仰能护人心身。他总想方设法去宽慰失望者，使他们能作退一步之想，使面对墓穴的悲痛转为仰望星光的悲痛。

     The private life of M. Myriel was filled with the same thoughts as his public life.The voluntary poverty in which the Bishop of D---- lived, would have been a solemn and charming sight for any one who could have viewed it close at hand.

    Like all old men, and like the majority of thinkers, he slept little. This brief slumber was profound.In the morning he meditated for an hour, then he said his mass, either at the cathedral or in his own house. His mass said, he broke his fast on rye bread dipped in the milk of his own cows.Then he set to work.

    A Bishop is a very busy man:he must every day receive the secretary of the bishopric, who is generally a canon, and nearly every day his vicars-general. He has congregations to reprove, privileges to grant, a whole ecclesiastical library to examine,-- prayer-books, diocesan catechisms, books of hours, etc.,--charges to write, sermons to authorize, cures and mayors to reconcile, a clerical correspondence, an administrative correspondence; on one side the State, on the other the Holy See; and a thousand matters of business.

    What time was left to him, after these thousand details of business, and his offices and his breviary, he bestowed first on the necessitous, the sick, and the afflicted; the time which was left to him from the afflicted, the sick, and the necessitous, he devoted to work. Sometimes he dug in his garden; again, he read or wrote.He had but one word for both these kinds of toil; he called them gardening. "The mind is a garden," said he.

     Towards mid-day, when the weather was fine, he went forth and took a stroll in the country or in town, often entering lowly dwellings. He was seen walking alone, buried in his own thoughts, his eyes cast down, supporting himself on his long cane, clad in his wadded purple garment of silk, which was very warm, wearing purple stockings inside his coarse shoes, and surmounted by a flat hat which allowed three golden tassels of large bullion to droop from its three points.

    It was a perfect festival wherever he appeared.One would have said that his presence had something warming and luminous about it. The children and the old people came out to the doorsteps for the Bishop as for the sun.He bestowed his blessing, and they blessed him. They pointed out his house to any one who was in need of anything.

    Here and there he halted, accosted the little boys and girls, and smiled upon the mothers.He visited the poor so long as he had any money; when he no longer had any, he visited the rich.

    As he made his cassocks last a long while, and did not wish to have it noticed, he never went out in the town without his wadded purple cloak.This inconvenienced him somewhat in summer.
    On his return, he dined.The dinner resembled his breakfast.

    At half-past eight in the evening he supped with his sister, Madame Magloire standing behind them and serving them at table. Nothing could be more frugal than this repast.If, however, the Bishop had one of his cures to supper, Madame Magloire took advantage of the opportunity to serve Monseigneur with some excellent fish from the lake, or with some fine game from the mountains.Every cure furnished the pretext for a good meal:the Bishop did not interfere. With that exception, his ordinary diet consisted only of vegetables boiled in water, and oil soup.Thus it was said in the town, when the Bishop does not indulge in the cheer of a cure, he indulges in the cheer of a trappist.

    After supper he conversed for half an hour with Mademoiselle Baptistine and Madame Magloire; then he retired to his own room and set to writing, sometimes on loose sheets, and again on the margin of some folio. He was a man of letters and rather learned.He left behind him five or six very curious manuscripts; among others, a dissertation on this verse in Genesis, In the beginning, the spirit of God floated upon the waters.With this verse he compares three texts: the Arabic verse which says, The winds of God blew; Flavius Josephus who says, A wind from above was precipitated upon the earth; and finally, the Chaldaic paraphrase of Onkelos, which renders it, A wind coming from God blew upon the face of the waters. In another dissertation, he examines the theological works of Hugo, Bishop of ptolemais, great-grand-uncle to the writer of this book, and establishes the fact, that to this bishop must be attributed the divers little works published during the last century, under the pseudonym of Barleycourt.

    Sometimes, in the midst of his reading, no matter what the book might be which he had in his hand, he would suddenly fall into a profound meditation, whence he only emerged to write a few lines on the pages of the volume itself.These lines have often no connection whatever with the book which contains them.We now have under our eyes a note written by him on the margin of a quarto entitled Correspondence of Lord Germain with Generals Clinton, Cornwallis, and the Admirals on the American station.Versailles, poincot, book-seller; and paris, pissot, bookseller, Quai des Augustins.

    Here is the note:--

    "Oh, you who are!
    "Ecclesiastes calls you the All-powerful; the Maccabees call you the Creator; the Epistle to the Ephesians calls you liberty; Baruch calls you Immensity; the psalms call you Wisdom and Truth; John calls you Light; the Books of Kings call you Lord; Exodus calls you providence; Leviticus, Sanctity; Esdras, Justice; the creation calls you God; man calls you Father; but Solomon calls you Compassion, and that is the most beautiful of all your names."

    Toward nine o'clock in the evening the two women retired and betook themselves to their chambers on the first floor, leaving him alone until morning on the ground floor.
    It is necessary that we should, in this place, give an exact idea of the dwelling of the Bishop of D----

     正如他的社会生活那样，米里哀先生的家庭生活，是受同样的思想支配的。对那些有机会就近观察的人，迪涅主教所过的那种自甘淡泊的生活，的确严肃而动人。
    
    他睡得少，和所有老年人及大部分思想家一样，但他的短暂的睡眠却很安稳。早晨，他静修一个钟头，再念他的弥撒经，有时在天主堂里，有时在自己的经堂里。弥撒经念完了，作为早餐，他吃一块黑麦面包，蘸着自家牛的乳汁。然后，他开始工作。
    
    主教总是非常忙，他得每天接见主教区的秘书——通常是一个司祭神甫，并且几乎每天都要接见他的那些助理主教。他有许多会议要主持，整个宗教图书室要检查，还要诵弥撒经、教理问答、日课经等等；还有许多训示要写，许多讲稿要批示，还要和解教士与地方官之间的争执，还要处理教务方面的信件、行政方面的信件，一方是政府，一方是宗教，事情总做不完。
    
    无穷的事务和他的日课以及祈祷余下的时间，他首先用于贫病和痛苦的人身上；在痛苦和贫病的人之后留下的时间，他用在劳动上。他有时在园里铲土，有时阅读和写作。他对那两种工作只有一种叫法，他管这叫“种地”，他说：“精神是一种园地。”
    
    日影正了，他便用午餐。午餐正和他的早餐一样。
    
    如果天气好，要到两点时，他就去乡间或城里散步，时常走进那些破烂的人家。人们看见他独自走着，低垂着眼睛，扶着一根长拐杖，穿着他那件相当温暖的紫棉袍，脚上穿着紫袜和粗笨的鞋子，头上戴了他的平顶帽，三束金流苏从帽顶的三只角里坠下来。
    
    他经过的地方就象过节似的。我们可以说他一路走过，就一路在散布温暖和光明，孩子和老人都因为主教而来到大门口，有如迎接阳光。他祝福大家，大家也为他祝福。人们总把他的住所指给任何有所需求的人们看。
    
    他随处停顿，和小男孩小女孩说话，也向着母亲们微笑。只要有钱，他总去找穷人；钱完了，便去找有钱人。由于他的道袍穿得太久，却又不愿被别人察觉，因此他进城就不得不套上那件紫棉袍。在夏季，这会使他感到难受。晚上八点半，他和他的妹妹用晚餐，马格洛大娘立在他们的后面照应。再没有比那种晚餐更简单的了。但是如果主教留他的一位神甫共进晚餐，马格洛大娘就会借此机会为主教做些鲜美的湖鱼或名贵的野味。所有的神甫都成了预备盛餐的籍口，主教也听人摆布。此外，他日常的伙食总不外是水煮蔬菜和素油汤。城里的人都说：“主教不吃神甫菜的时候，就吃苦修会的修士菜。”晚餐之后，他同巴狄斯丁姑娘、马格洛大娘闲谈半小时，再回自己的房间从事写作，有时写在单张纸上，有时写在对开本书的空白边上。他是个文人，知识渊博，留下了五种或六种相当奇特的手稿，其中一种是关于《创世记》中“上帝的灵运行在水面上”①那一节的研究。他拿三 种经文来作比较：阿拉伯译文作“上帝的风吹着”；弗拉菲于斯约瑟夫②作“上界的风骤临下土”；最后翁格洛斯的迦勒底③文的注释性翻译则作“来自上帝的一阵风吹在水面上”。在另外一篇论文里，他研究了雨果关于神学的著作——雨果是普托利迈伊斯的主教，本书作者的叔曾祖；他还考证，在前世纪以笔名巴勒古尔发表的各种小册子都是那位主教所作。有时，他阅读，而不问在他手里拿的是什么书，他会忽然堕入深远的思考，想完以后，立即在原书中写上几行。那些字时常和他手中的书毫无关系。目下我们有他在一部四开本书的边上所写的注，书名是“贵人日耳曼和克林东、柯恩华立斯两将军以及美洲海域海军上将们的往来信札》，凡尔赛盘索书店及巴黎奥古斯丁河沿毕索书店印行。
①这一句话原文见《创世记》第一章第二节。
②弗拉菲于斯?约瑟夫（FlaviusJosephe），一世纪末的犹太历史家。
③迦勒底（Chaldee），巴比伦一带地方的旧称。
    
    其注如下：
    “呵！存在着的你！
    《传道书》称你为全能，马加比人称你为创造主，《以弗所书》称你为自由，巴录称你为广大，《诗篇》称你为智慧与真理，约翰称你为光明，《列王纪》称你为天主，《出埃及记》称你为主宰，《利未记》称你为神圣，以斯拉呼称你公正，《创世记》称你为上帝，人们称你为天父，但是所罗门称你为慈悲，这才是你名称中最美的一个。”
    近九点钟时，两位妇女退到楼上自己的房间去，让他独自呆在楼下，直到天明。

     The house in which he lived consisted, as we have said, of a ground floor, and one story above; three rooms on the ground floor, three chambers on the first, and an attic above.Behind the house was a garden, a quarter of an acre in extent.The two women occupied the first floor; the Bishop was lodged below.The first room, opening on the street, served him as dining-room, the second was his bedroom, and the third his oratory.There was no exit possible from this oratory, except by passing through the bedroom, nor from the bedroom, without passing through the dining-room. At the end of the suite, in the oratory, there was a detached alcove with a bed, for use in cases of hospitality.The Bishop offered this bed to country curates whom business or the requirements of their parishes brought to D----

     The pharmacy of the hospital, a small building which had been added to the house, and abutted on the garden, had been transformed into a kitchen and cellar.In addition to this, there was in the garden a stable, which had formerly been the kitchen of the hospital, and in which the Bishop kept two cows.No matter what the quantity of milk they gave, he invariably sent half of it every morning to the sick people in the hospital."I am paying my tithes," he said.

     His bedroom was tolerably large, and rather difficult to warm in bad weather.As wood is extremely dear at D----, he hit upon the idea of having a compartment of boards constructed in the cow-shed. Here he passed his evenings during seasons of severe cold: he called it his winter salon.

     In this winter salon, as in the dining-room, there was no other furniture than a square table in white wood, and four straw-seated chairs. In addition to this the dining-room was ornamented with an antique sideboard, painted pink, in water colors.Out of a similar sideboard, properly draped with white napery and imitation lace, the Bishop had constructed the altar which decorated his oratory.

     His wealthy penitents and the sainted women of D---- had more than once assessed themselves to raise the money for a new altar for Monseigneur's oratory; on each occasion he had taken the money and had given it to the poor."The most beautiful of altars," he said, "is the soul of an unhappy creature consoled and thanking God."

     In his oratory there were two straw prie-Dieu, and there was an arm-chair, also in straw, in his bedroom.When, by chance, he received seven or eight persons at one time, the prefect, or the general, or the staff of the regiment in garrison, or several pupils from the little seminary, the chairs had to be fetched from the winter salon in the stable, the prie-Dieu from the oratory, and the arm-chair from the bedroom:in this way as many as eleven chairs could be collected for the visitors.A room was dismantled for each new guest.

     It sometimes happened that there were twelve in the party; the Bishop then relieved the embarrassment of the situation by standing in front of the chimney if it was winter, or by strolling in the garden if it was summer.

     There was still another chair in the detached alcove, but the straw was half gone from it, and it had but three legs, so that it was of service only when propped against the wall.Mademoiselle Baptistine had also in her own room a very large easy-chair of wood, which had formerly been gilded, and which was covered with flowered pekin; but they had been obliged to hoist this bergere up to the first story through the window, as the staircase was too narrow; it could not, therefore, be reckoned among the possibilities in the way of furniture.

     Mademoiselle Baptistine's ambition had been to be able to purchase a set of drawing-room furniture in yellow Utrecht velvet, stamped with a rose pattern, and with mahogany in swan's neck style, with a sofa.But this would have cost five hundred francs at least, and in view of the fact that she had only been able to lay by forty-two francs and ten sous for this purpose in the course of five years, she had ended by renouncing the idea.However, who is there who has attained his ideal?

     Nothing is more easy to present to the imagination than the Bishop's bedchamber.A glazed door opened on the garden; opposite this was the bed,--a hospital bed of iron, with a canopy of green serge; in the shadow of the bed, behind a curtain, were the utensils of the toilet, which still betrayed the elegant habits of the man of the world: there were two doors, one near the chimney, opening into the oratory; the other near the bookcase, opening into the dining-room. The bookcase was a large cupboard with glass doors filled with books; the chimney was of wood painted to represent marble, and habitually without fire. In the chimney stood a pair of firedogs of iron, ornamented above with two garlanded vases, and flutings which had formerly been silvered with silver leaf, which was a sort of episcopal luxury; above the chimney-piece hung a crucifix of copper, with the silver worn off, fixed on a background of threadbare velvet in a wooden frame from which the gilding had fallen; near the glass door a large table with an inkstand, loaded with a confusion of papers and with huge volumes; before the table an arm-chair of straw; in front of the bed a prie-Dieu, borrowed from the oratory.

     Two portraits in oval frames were fastened to the wall on each side of the bed.Small gilt inscriptions on the plain surface of the cloth at the side of these figures indicated that the portraits represented, one the Abbe of Chaliot, bishop of Saint Claude; the other, the Abbe Tourteau, vicar-general of Agde, abbe of Grand-Champ, order of Citeaux, diocese of Chartres.When the Bishop succeeded to this apartment, after the hospital patients, he had found these portraits there, and had left them.They were priests, and probably donors--two reasons for respecting them.All that he knew about these two persons was, that they had been appointed by the king, the one to his bishopric, the other to his benefice, on the same day, the 27th of April, 1785.Madame Magloire having taken the pictures down to dust, the Bishop had discovered these particulars written in whitish ink on a little square of paper, yellowed by time, and attached to the back of the portrait of the Abbe of Grand-Champ with four wafers.

     At his window he had an antique curtain of a coarse woollen stuff, which finally became so old, that, in order to avoid the expense of a new one, Madame Magloire was forced to take a large seam in the very middle of it.This seam took the form of a cross. The Bishop often called attention to it:"How delightful that is!" he said.

     All the rooms in the house, without exception, those on the ground floor as well as those on the first floor, were white-washed, which is a fashion in barracks and hospitals.

     However, in their latter years, Madame Magloire discovered beneath the paper which had been washed over, paintings, ornamenting the apartment of Mademoiselle Baptistine, as we shall see further on. Before becoming a hospital, this house had been the ancient parliament house of the Bourgeois.Hence this decoration. The chambers were paved in red bricks, which were washed every week, with straw mats in front of all the beds.Altogether, this dwelling, which was attended to by the two women, was exquisitely clean from top to bottom.This was the sole luxury which the Bishop permitted. He said, "That takes nothing from the poor."

     It must be confessed, however, that he still retained from his former possessions six silver knives and forks and a soup-ladle, which Madame Magloire contemplated every day with delight, as they glistened splendidly upon the coarse linen cloth. And since we are now painting the Bishop of D---- as he was in reality, we must add that he had said more than once, "I find it difficult to renounce eating from silver dishes."
To this silverware must be added two large candlesticks of massive silver, which he had inherited from a great-aunt. These candlesticks held two wax candles, and usually figured on the Bishop's chimney-piece. When he had any one to dinner, Madame Magloire lighted the two candles and set the candlesticks on the table.

     In the Bishop's own chamber, at the head of his bed, there was a small cupboard, in which Madame Magloire locked up the six silver knives and forks and the big spoon every night. But it is necessary to add, that the key was never removed.

     The garden, which had been rather spoiled by the ugly buildings which we have mentioned, was composed of four alleys in cross-form, radiating from a tank.Another walk made the circuit of the garden, and skirted the white wall which enclosed it.These alleys left behind them four square plots rimmed with box.In three of these, Madame Magloire cultivated vegetables; in the fourth, the Bishop had planted some flowers; here and there stood a few fruit-trees. Madame Magloire had once remarked, with a sort of gentle malice: "Monseigneur, you who turn everything to account, have, nevertheless, one useless plot.It would be better to grow salads there than bouquets." "Madame Magloire," retorted the Bishop, "you are mistaken. The beautiful is as useful as the useful."He added after a pause, "More so, perhaps."

     This plot, consisting of three or four beds, occupied the Bishop almost as much as did his books.He liked to pass an hour or two there, trimming, hoeing, and making holes here and there in the earth, into which he dropped seeds.He was not as hostile to insects as a gardener could have wished to see him.Moreover, he made no pretensions to botany; he ignored groups and consistency; he made not the slightest effort to decide between Tournefort and the natural method; he took part neither with the buds against the cotyledons, nor with Jussieu against Linnaeus.He did not study plants; he loved flowers. He respected learned men greatly; he respected the ignorant still more; and, without ever failing in these two respects, he watered his flower-beds every summer evening with a tin watering-pot painted green.

     The house had not a single door which could be locked.The door of the dining-room, which, as we have said, opened directly on the cathedral square, had formerly been ornamented with locks and bolts like the door of a prison.The Bishop had had all this ironwork removed, and this door was never fastened, either by night or by day, with anything except the latch.All that the first passerby had to do at any hour, was to give it a push.At first, the two women had been very much tried by this door, which was never fastened, but Monsieur de D---- had said to them, "Have bolts put on your rooms, if that will please you."They had ended by sharing his confidence, or by at least acting as though they shared it.Madame Magloire alone had frights from time to time.As for the Bishop, his thought can be found explained, or at least indicated, in the three lines which he wrote on the margin of a Bible, "This is the shade of difference:the door of the physician should never be shut, the door of the priest should always be open."

     On another book, entitled philosophy of the Medical Science, he had written this other note:"Am not I a physician like them? I also have my patients, and then, too, I have some whom I call my unfortunates."

     Again he wrote:"Do not inquire the name of him who asks a shelter of you.The very man who is embarrassed by his name is the one who needs shelter."

     It chanced that a worthy cure, I know not whether it was the cure of Couloubroux or the cure of pompierry, took it into his head to ask him one day, probably at the instigation of Madame Magloire, whether Monsieur was sure that he was not committing an indiscretion, to a certain extent, in leaving his door unfastened day and night, at the mercy of any one who should choose to enter, and whether, in short, he did not fear lest some misfortune might occur in a house so little guarded.The Bishop touched his shoulder, with gentle gravity, and said to him, "Nisi Dominus custodierit domum, in vanum vigilant qui custodiunt eam," Unless the Lord guard the house, in vain do they watch who guard it.

     Then he spoke of something else.
     He was fond of saying, "There is a bravery of the priest as well as the bravery of a colonel of dragoons,--only," he added, "ours must be tranquil."

     我们已经说过，他住的房子是一所只一层楼的楼房，楼下三间，楼上三间，顶上一间气楼，后面有一个四分之一亩大的园子。两位妇女住在楼上，主教住在楼下。临街的第一间是他的餐室，第二间是卧室，第三间是经堂。从经堂出来，得经过卧室；从卧室出来，又得穿过餐室。经堂底边，有半间小暖房，仅容一张留备客人寄宿睡的床。主教常把那床让给那些因管辖区的事务或因其它需要来到迪涅的乡村神甫们住宿。以前医院的药房是间小房子，和正屋相通，建在园子里，现在已改为厨房和贮藏食物的地方了。此外，园里还有一个牲口棚，最初是救济院的厨房，现在主教在那里养了两头母牛。无论那两头牛产多少奶，每天早晨他总要分一半给医院里的病人。“这是我付的什一税。”他说。他的房间很大，在恶劣的季节里很难保暖。由于木柴在迪涅非常贵，他便设法在牛棚里杉板壁隔出了一小间。严寒季节便成为他夜间生活的地方。他称那做“冬斋”。和在餐室里一样，冬斋里除了一张白木方桌和四张麦秸心椅子外，再也没有别的家具。餐室里却还陈设着一个涂了淡红胶的旧碗橱。主教还把一张同样的碗橱，适当地罩上白布帷和假花边，作为祭坛，点缀他的经堂。

     迪涅的那些有钱的女忏悔者和虔诚的妇女，多次凑了些钱，要给主教的经堂造一个美观的新祭坛，每次他把钱收入，却都送给了穷人。

     “最美丽的祭坛，”他说，“是一个因得到安慰而感谢上帝的受苦人的灵魂。”在经堂，他有两张麦秸心的祈祷椅，卧室里还有一张有扶手的围椅，也是麦秸心的。万一他同时要接见七八个人，省长、将军或是驻军的参谋，或是教士培养所的几个学生，他们就得到牛棚里去找冬斋的椅子，经堂里去找祈祷椅，卧室里去找围椅。这样，他们能收集到十一张待客的坐具。每次有人来访，总得把一间屋子搬空。

     有时来了十二个人，主教为了掩饰那种窘迫境况，如果是冬天，他便自己立在壁炉边，如果是夏天，他就提议到园里去兜圈。在那小暖房里，的确还有一张椅子，但椅上的麦秸已脱了一半，并且只有三只脚，只有靠在墙上才能用。巴狄斯丁姑娘也还有一张很大的木靠椅，从前是漆过金的，并有锦缎的椅套，但是那靠椅由于楼梯太窄，已从窗口吊上楼了，所以它不能作为可随意搬动的家具。

     巴狄斯丁姑娘的奢望，是想买一套客厅里用的荷兰黄底团花丝绒的天鹅颈式紫檀座架的家具，再配上长沙发。但是这至少需要五百法郎。她为此省吃节用，五年当中，只省下四十二个法郎和十个苏，于是也就放弃了。而且谁又能实现自己的理想呢？要去想象一下主教的卧室，那是再简单不过的了。一扇窗门朝着园子，对面是床——一张医院用的病床，铁的，带着绿哔叽帷子。在床里面的阴暗处，帷子的后面，还摆着梳妆用具，残留着他旧时在繁华社会中做人的那些漂亮习气；两扇门，一扇靠近壁炉，与经堂相通，一扇靠近书橱，与餐室相通；那书橱是一 个大玻璃橱，装满了书；壁炉的木框，描着仿大理石的花纹，炉里一般是没有火的；壁炉里有一对铁炉篦，篦的两端装饰着两个瓶，瓶上绕着花串和槽形直条花纹，并贴过银箔，那是主教等级的一种奢侈品；上面，在平常挂镜子的地方，有一个银色已褪的铜十字架，钉在一块破旧的黑绒上面，装在一个金色暗敝的木框里。窗门旁边，有一张大桌子，摆了一个墨水瓶，桌上堆着零乱的纸张和大本的书籍。桌子前面，一张麦秸椅。床的前面，一张从经堂里搬来的祈祷椅。椭圆框里的两幅半身油画像，挂在他床两边的墙上。在画幅素净的背景上有几个小金字写在像的旁边，标明一幅是圣克鲁的主教查里奥教士的像，一幅是夏尔特尔教区西多会大田修院院长阿格德的副主教杜尔多教士的像。主教在继医院病人之后住进那间房时，就已看见有这两幅画像，也就让它挂在原处。他们是神甫，也许是施主，这就是使他尊敬他们的两个理由。他所知道关于那两个人物的，只是他们在同一天，一七八五年四月二十七日，根据王命，一个被授以教区，一个被封给采地。马格洛大娘曾把那两幅画取下来掸灰尘，主教才在大田修院院长的像的后面，看见在一张用四片胶纸粘着四角、年久发黄的小方纸上，用淡墨汁注出的这两位人物的来历。窗门上，有一条古老的粗毛呢窗帷，已经破旧不堪，为了节省新买一条的费用，马格洛大娘只得在正中大大地缝补一番，缝补的线纹恰好成了一个十字形。主教常常叫人观看。

     “这缝得多好！”他说。那房子里所有的房间，不管楼下楼上，没有一间不是用灰浆刷的，营房和医院也是如此。
     但后来的几年里，马格洛大娘在巴狄斯丁姑娘房间的裱墙纸下面（我们在下面还会谈到），发现了一些壁画。在成为医院以前，这所房子曾是一些士绅们的聚会场所，所以会有那种装饰。每间屋子的地上都铺了红砖，每星期洗一次，床的前面都铺着麦秸席。总之，这住宅，经那两妇女的整理，从上到下，都变得极其清洁。那是主教所许可的唯一的奢华。他说：“这并不损害穷人的利益。”

     但我们得说清楚，在他从前有过的东西里，还留下六套银餐具和一 只银的大汤勺，马格洛大娘每天都高兴地望着那些银器在白粗布台毯上闪烁出灿烂夺目的光。我们既然要把迪涅的这位主教如实地写出来，就应该提到他曾几次这样说过：“叫我不用银器盛东西吃，我想是不容易做到的。”

     在那些银器之外，还有两个粗重的银烛台，是从他一个姑祖母的遗产中得来的。那对烛台上插着两支烛，经常陈设在主教的壁炉上。每逢他留客进餐，马格洛大娘总要点上那两支烛，同蜡台一起放在餐桌上。在主教的卧室里，床头边有一张壁橱，每天晚上，马格洛大娘把那六套银器和大汤勺塞在橱里。橱门上的钥匙是从来不拿走的。那个园子，在我们说过的那些相当丑陋的建筑物的映衬下，也显得有些失色。园子里有四条小道，交叉成十字形，交叉处有一个水槽；另一条小道沿着白围墙绕园一周。小道与小道之间，构成了四块方地，边沿上栽着黄杨。马格洛大娘在三块方地上种了蔬菜，在第四块上，主教种了点花卉。几株果树散布各处。

     一次，马格洛大娘和蔼地打趣他说：“您处处都要盘算，这儿却有一块方地没有用上。种上些生菜，不比花还好吗？”“马格洛大娘，”主教回答说：“您弄错了。美和实用是一样有用的。”停了一会，他又加上一句：“也许更有用些。”

     那块方地又分作三四畦，主教在那地上所花费的劳动和他在书本里所花费的劳动是相等的。他喜欢在这里花上一两个钟头，修枝，除草，这儿那儿，在土里搠一些窟窿，搁下种子。他并不象园艺工作者那样仇视昆虫。对植物学他没有任何幻想；他不知道分科，也不懂骨肉发病说；他绝不研究在杜纳福尔①和自然操作法之间应当有何取舍，既不替胞囊反对子叶，也不替舒习尔②反对林内③。他不研究植物，但赞赏花卉。他非常敬重科学家，更敬重没有知识的人，在双方并重之下，每当夏季黄昏，他总提着一把绿漆白铁喷壶去浇他的花畦。
①杜纳福尔（Tournefort），法国十世纪的植物学家。
②舒习尔（Jussieu），法国十八世纪植物学家。
③林内（Linne），瑞典十八世纪生物学家，是植物和动物分类学的鼻祖。

     那所房子没有一扇门是能锁上的。餐室的门，我们已经说过，开出去便是天主堂前面的广场，从前装了锁和铁闩的，正象一扇牢门。主教早已叫人把那些铁件去掉了，所以那扇门无论昼夜，都只用一个活梢扣着。任何过路的人，在任何时刻都可以摇开。开始时，那两位妇女为那扇从来不关的门非常担忧，但迪涅主教对她们说：“假如你们喜欢，不妨在你们的房门上装上铁闩。”到后来，她们见他放心，也就放了心，或者说，至少她们装出了放心的样子。马格洛大娘有时仍不免提心吊胆。主教的想法，已经在他在《圣经》边上所写的这三行字里阐明了，至少是提出了：“这里只是最微小的一点区别：医生的门，永不应关，教士的门，应该常开。”

     在一本叫做《医学的哲学》的书上，他写下了这样一段话：“难道我们不是同他们一样都是医生吗？我一样有我的病人。首先我有他们称为病人的病人，其次我还有我称为不幸的人的病人。”

     在另一处，他还写道：“对向你求宿的人，不可问名问姓。不便把自己姓名告人的人，常常就是最需要找地方住的人。”有一天，忽然来了个大名鼎鼎的教士，我已经记不清是古娄布鲁教士，还是彭弼力教士，想要问主教先生（那也许是受了马格洛大娘的指使），让大门日夜敞开着，人人都能进来，主教是否能确保不至于发生某种意外，是否不怕在防范如此松懈的家里，发生什么不幸的事。主教严肃而温和地在他肩上点了一下，对他说：“除非上帝要保护这家人，否则看守也是枉然。”①接着他就谈别的事了。
①这两句话原文为拉丁文，即 NisiDominuscustodiertitdomum，invanumvigilantquicus-todiunteam。

     他常爱说：“教士也有教士的勇敢，正如龙骑队长有龙骑队长的勇敢。”不过，他又加上一句：“我们的勇敢应当是宁静的。”

     It is here that a fact falls naturally into place, which we must not omit, because it is one of the sort which show us best what sort of a man the Bishop of D---- was.

     After the destruction of the band of Gaspard Bes, who had infested the gorges of Ollioules, one of his lieutenants, Cravatte, took refuge in the mountains.He concealed himself for some time with his bandits, the remnant of Gaspard Bes's troop, in the county of Nice; then he made his way to piedmont, and suddenly reappeared in France, in the vicinity of Barcelonette.He was first seen at Jauziers, then at Tuiles.He hid himself in the caverns of the Joug-de-l'Aigle, and thence he descended towards the hamlets and villages through the ravines of Ubaye and Ubayette.

     He even pushed as far as Embrun, entered the cathedral one night, and despoiled the sacristy.His highway robberies laid waste the country-side. The gendarmes were set on his track, but in vain. He always escaped; sometimes he resisted by main force.He was a bold wretch.In the midst of all this terror the Bishop arrived. He was making his circuit to Chastelar.The mayor came to meet him, and urged him to retrace his steps.Cravatte was in possession of the mountains as far as Arche, and beyond; there was danger even with an escort; it merely exposed three or four unfortunate gendarmes to no purpose.

     "Therefore," said the Bishop, "I intend to go without escort."
     "You do not really mean that, Monseigneur!" exclaimed the mayor.
     "I do mean it so thoroughly that I absolutely refuse any gendarmes, and shall set out in an hour."
     "Set out?"
     "Set out."
     "Alone?"
     "Alone."

     "Monseigneur, you will not do that!"
     "There exists yonder in the mountains," said the Bishop, a tiny community no bigger than that, which I have not seen for three years. They are my good friends, those gentle and honest shepherds.They own one goat out of every thirty that they tend.They make very pretty woollen cords of various colors, and they play the mountain airs on little flutes with six holes.They need to be told of the good God now and then.What would they say to a bishop who was afraid? What would they say if I did not go?"

     "But the brigands, Monseigneur?"
     "Hold," said the Bishop, "I must think of that.You are right. I may meet them.They, too, need to be told of the good God."
     "But, Monseigneur, there is a band of them!A flock of wolves!"
     "Monsieur le maire, it may be that it is of this very flock of wolves that Jesus has constituted me the shepherd.Who knows the ways of providence?"
     "They will rob you, Monseigneur."
     "I have nothing."
     "They will kill you."

     "An old goodman of a priest, who passes along mumbling his prayers? Bah!To what purpose?"
     "Oh, mon Dieu! what if you should meet them!"
     "I should beg alms of them for my poor."
     "Do not go, Monseigneur.In the name of Heaven!You are risking your life!"
     "Monsieur le maire," said the Bishop, "is that really all? I am not in the world to guard my own life, but to guard souls."

     They had to allow him to do as he pleased.He set out, accompanied only by a child who offered to serve as a guide.His obstinacy was bruited about the country-side, and caused great consternation.

     He would take neither his sister nor Madame Magloire.He traversed the mountain on mule-back, encountered no one, and arrived safe and sound at the residence of his "good friends," the shepherds. He remained there for a fortnight, preaching, administering the sacrament, teaching, exhorting.When the time of his departure approached, he resolved to chant a Te Deum pontifically.He mentioned it to the cure.But what was to be done?There were no episcopal ornaments. They could only place at his disposal a wretched village sacristy, with a few ancient chasubles of threadbare damask adorned with imitation lace.

     "Bah!" said the Bishop."Let us announce our Te Deum from the pulpit, nevertheless, Monsieur le Cure.Things will arrange themselves."

     They instituted a search in the churches of the neighborhood. All the magnificence of these humble parishes combined would not have sufficed to clothe the chorister of a cathedral properly.

     While they were thus embarrassed, a large chest was brought and deposited in the presbytery for the Bishop, by two unknown horsemen, who departed on the instant.The chest was opened; it contained a cope of cloth of gold, a mitre ornamented with diamonds, an archbishop's cross, a magnificent crosier,--all the pontifical vestments which had been stolen a month previously from the treasury of Notre Dame d'Embrun. In the chest was a paper, on which these words were written, "From Cravatte to Monseigneur Bienvenu."

     "Did not I say that things would come right of themselves?" said the Bishop.Then he added, with a smile, "To him who contents himself with the surplice of a curate, God sends the cope of an archbishop."
     "Monseigneur," murmured the cure, throwing back his head with a smile. "God--or the Devil."

     The Bishop looked steadily at the cure, and repeated with authority, "God!"
     When he returned to Chastelar, the people came out to stare at him as at a curiosity, all along the road.At the priest's house in Chastelar he rejoined Mademoiselle Baptistine and Madame Magloire, who were waiting for him, and he said to his sister:"Well! was I in the right?The poor priest went to his poor mountaineers with empty hands, and he returns from them with his hands full. I set out bearing only my faith in God; I have brought back the treasure of a cathedral."

     That evening, before he went to bed, he said again:"Let us never fear robbers nor murderers.Those are dangers from without, petty dangers.Let us fear ourselves.prejudices are the real robbers; vices are the real murderers.The great dangers lie within ourselves. What matters it what threatens our head or our purse!Let us think only of that which threatens our soul."

     Then, turning to his sister:"Sister, never a precaution on the part of the priest, against his fellow-man. That which his fellow does, God permits.Let us confine ourselves to prayer, when we think that a danger is approaching us.Let us pray, not for ourselves, but that our brother may not fall into sin on our account."

     However, such incidents were rare in his life.We relate those of which we know; but generally he passed his life in doing the same things at the same moment.One month of his year resembled one hour of his day.

     As to what became of "the treasure" of the cathedral of Embrun, we should be embarrassed by any inquiry in that direction. It consisted of very handsome things, very tempting things, and things which were very well adapted to be stolen for the benefit of the unfortunate.Stolen they had already been elsewhere. Half of the adventure was completed; it only remained to impart a new direction to the theft, and to cause it to take a short trip in the direction of the poor.However, we make no assertions on this point.Only, a rather obscure note was found among the Bishop's papers, which may bear some relation to this matter, and which is couched in these terms, "The question is, to decide whether this should be turned over to the cathedral or to the hospital."

     此地自然有一件我们不应当忽略的事，因为这件事足以说明迪涅的空闰主教先生是怎样一个人。

     加斯帕尔白匪帮曾一度在阿柳尔峡一带横行，在被击溃以后，有个叫克拉华特的匪盗却还躲在山林里。他领着他的人马，即加斯帕尔?白的残部，在尼斯伯爵领地里藏匿了一段时间，随后又转到皮埃蒙特区②，忽而又在法国境内的巴塞隆内特附近出现。最初，有人曾在若齐埃见过他，过后又在翟伊尔见过他。他躲在鹰轭山洞里，从那里出来，经过玉碑和小玉碑峡谷，走向村落和乡镇。他甚至敢于进逼昂布伦，黑夜侵入天主堂，卷走了圣衣库中的东西。他的劫掠使那一乡的人惊恐不安。警察追击也毫无用处。他屡次逃脱，有时还公然抵抗。他是个胆大的恶徒。正当人心惶惶时，主教来了。他正在那个乡巡视。乡长赶到沙斯特拉来找他，并且劝他折回去。当时克拉华特已占据那座山，直达阿什一带，甚至还更远。即使由卫队护送，也有危险。那仅仅是把三四个警察白白拿去送死而已。
②皮埃蒙特区（Piemcnt），在意大利北部。

     “那么，”主教说，“我打算不带卫兵去。”“您怎么能那样做，主教？”乡长说。
     “我就那样打算，我绝对拒绝卫兵，一个钟头以内我就要走。”
     “走？”
     “走。”
     “一个人去吗？”
     “一个人。”
     “主教，您不能那样做。”

     “在那儿，”主教又说，“有个穷苦的小村子，才这么一丁点大，我三年没有去看他们了。那儿的人都是我的好朋友。一些和蔼诚实的牧人。他们牧羊，每三十头母羊里只有一头是属于他们自己的。他们能做各种颜色的羊毛绳，非常好看。他们用六孔小笛吹出各种山歌。他们需要有人不时和他们谈谈慈悲的上帝。主教如果也害怕，他们将会说什么呢？如果我不到那里去一趟，他们将会说些什么呢？”

     “可是，主教，您怎么对付那些强盗，万一您遇见了强盗！”“对呀，”主教说，“我想起来了。您说得有理。我有必要碰到他们。他们也需要有人和他们谈谈慈悲的上帝。”
     “主教，那是一伙土匪呀，是一群狼呀！”
     “乡长先生，也许耶稣正要我去做一群狼的牧人呢。谁知道上帝的旨意？”
     “主教，他们会把您抢光的。”
     “我没什么可抢的。”
     “他们会杀害您的。”
     “杀害一个念着消食经过路的老教士？啐！那有什么益处？”“唉！我的上帝！万一您碰见他们！”
     “那我就请他们捐几文给我的穷人们！”

     “主教，以上天之名，不要到那儿去吧！太冒险了。”“乡长先生，”主教说，“就只是这点小事吗？我活在世上不是为了自己的性命，而是来保护世人的心灵的。”只好让他走。他走了，只有一个自愿当向导的小孩陪着他。他那种蛮劲让那一乡的人议论纷纷，甚至个个都替他捏了一把汗。他不愿带他的妹妹，也没带马格洛大娘。他骑上骡子，穿过山路，一个人都没有碰到，平平安安就到了他的“好朋友”——牧人的家里。他在那里住了两个星期，传道，行圣礼，教育人，感化人。到快离开时，他决定用主教的仪式做一场大弥撒。他和本堂神甫商量。但是没有主教的服饰，怎么办呢？他们只能把简陋的乡间圣衣库提供给他使用，那里只有几件破旧的、装着假金线的锦缎祭服。

     “没关系！”主教说。“神甫先生，我们不妨把要做大弥撒的事在下次礼拜时，向大众宣告一下，总会有办法的。”在附近的几个天主堂里都找遍了。那些穷教堂里所有的精华，凑拢来还不够装饰一个大天主堂里的唱诗童子。

     正在大家为难之际，有两个陌生人骑着马，带了一只大箱子，送来给主教先生，箱子放在本堂神甫家里，人立即走了。打开箱子一看，里有件金线呢披氅，一顶装有金刚钻的主教法冠，一个大主教的十字架，一条华美的法杖，一个月以前，在昂布伦圣母堂的圣衣库里被抢的法衣，全部都在。箱子里有张纸，上面写着：“克拉华特呈卞福汝主教。”

     “我早说过会有办法的！”主教说，随后他含笑补充一句，“以神甫的白衣自足的人，蒙上帝赐来大主教的披氅了。”“我的主教，”神甫点头含笑低声说，“不是上帝便是魔鬼。”主教用眼睛盯住神甫，严肃地说：“是上帝！”

     回沙斯特拉时一路上都有人来看他，他被引为奇谈。他在沙斯特拉的神甫家里，又和巴狄斯丁姑娘和马格洛大娘相见了，她们也正盼望他回来。他对他的妹妹说：“怎样，我的打算没有错吧？我这穷教士，两手空空，跑到山里那些穷百姓家里去，现在又满载而归了。当初我出发时，只带着一片信仰上帝的诚心，回来时，却把一个天主堂的宝库带了回来。”

     晚上，到睡之前他还在说：
     “永远别怕盗贼和杀人犯。那是身外的危险。我们应当害怕自己。偏见便是盗贼，恶习便是杀人犯。重大的危险都在我们自己的心里。危害我们脑袋和钱袋的人何足介意呢？我们只须想到危害灵魂的东西就行了。”

     他又转过去对他妹妹说：
     “妹妹，教士永远不应该提防他的邻人。邻人做的事，总是上帝允许的。我们在危险临头时，只应祷告上帝。祈求他，不是为了我们自己，而是为了不要让我们的兄弟因我们而犯罪。”

     总之，他生平的特殊事情不多。我们就自己所知道的谈谈。不过在他的一生中，他总是在同样的时刻做同样的事。他一年的一月，就象他一日的一刻。

     至于昂布伦天主堂的“财宝”的下落如何，我们对这问题，却有些难以回答。那都是些美丽的、令人爱不释手的、很值得偷去救济穷人的东西。况且那些东西已是早被人偷过了的。那种冒险行为已经完成了一半，余下的工作只须改变偷窃的目的，再向穷人那边走一小段路就可以了。关于这问题，我们什么也不肯定。不过，曾经有人在主教的纸堆里发现过一张语意不明的纸条，也许正是针对那件事而言的，上面写着：“问题在于明确这东西应当归天堂还是归医院。”

     The senator above mentioned was a clever man, who had made his own way, heedless of those things which present obstacles, and which are called conscience, sworn faith, justice, duty:he had marched straight to his goal, without once flinching in the line of his advancement and his interest.He was an old attorney, softened by success; not a bad man by any means, who rendered all the small services in his power to his sons, his sons-in-law, his relations, and even to his friends, having wisely seized upon, in life, good sides, good opportunities, good windfalls. Everything else seemed to him very stupid.He was intelligent, and just sufficiently educated to think himself a disciple of Epicurus; while he was, in reality, only a product of pigault-Lebrun. He laughed willingly and pleasantly over infinite and eternal things, and at the "Crotchets of that good old fellow the Bishop." He even sometimes laughed at him with an amiable authority in the presence of M. Myriel himself, who listened to him.

     On some semi-official occasion or other, I do not recollect what, Count*** (this senator) and M. Myriel were to dine with the prefect. At dessert, the senator, who was slightly exhilarated, though still perfectly dignified, exclaimed:--
     "Egad, Bishop, let's have a discussion.It is hard for a senator and a bishop to look at each other without winking.We are two augurs. I am going to make a confession to you.I have a philosophy of my own."

     "And you are right," replied the Bishop."As one makes one's philosophy, so one lies on it.You are on the bed of purple, senator."
     The senator was encouraged, and went on:--
     "Let us be good fellows."
     "Good devils even," said the Bishop.
     "I declare to you," continued the senator, "that the Marquis d'Argens, pyrrhon, Hobbes, and M. Naigeon are no rascals. I have all the philosophers in my library gilded on the edges."
     "Like yourself, Count," interposed the Bishop.

     The senator resumed:--
     "I hate Diderot; he is an ideologist, a declaimer, and a revolutionist, a believer in God at bottom, and more bigoted than Voltaire. Voltaire made sport of Needham, and he was wrong, for Needham's eels prove that God is useless.A drop of vinegar in a spoonful of flour paste supplies the fiat lux.Suppose the drop to be larger and the spoonful bigger; you have the world.Man is the eel. Then what is the good of the Eternal Father?The Jehovah hypothesis tires me, Bishop.It is good for nothing but to produce shallow people, whose reasoning is hollow.Down with that great All, which torments me! Hurrah for Zero which leaves me in peace!Between you and me, and in order to empty my sack, and make confession to my pastor, as it behooves me to do, I will admit to you that I have good sense. I am not enthusiastic over your Jesus, who preaches renunciation and sacrifice to the last extremity.'Tis the counsel of an avaricious man to beggars.Renunciation; why?Sacrifice; to what end? I do not see one wolf immolating himself for the happiness of another wolf.Let us stick to nature, then.We are at the top; let us have a superior philosophy.What is the advantage of being at the top, if one sees no further than the end of other people's noses?Let us live merrily.Life is all.That man has another future elsewhere, on high, below, anywhere, I don't believe; not one single word of it.Ah! sacrifice and renunciation are recommended to me; I must take heed to everything I do; I must cudgel my brains over good and evil, over the just and the unjust, over the fas and the nefas.Why?

     Because I shall have to render an account of my actions.When?After death.What a fine dream! After my death it will be a very clever person who can catch me. Have a handful of dust seized by a shadow-hand, if you can. Let us tell the truth, we who are initiated, and who have raised the veil of Isis:there is no such thing as either good or evil; there is vegetation.Let us seek the real.Let us get to the bottom of it.Let us go into it thoroughly.What the deuce! let us go to the bottom of it!We must scent out the truth; dig in the earth for it, and seize it.Then it gives you exquisite joys. Then you grow strong, and you laugh.I am square on the bottom, I am.Immortality, Bishop, is a chance, a waiting for dead men's shoes.Ah! what a charming promise! trust to it, if you like! What a fine lot Adam has!We are souls, and we shall be angels, with blue wings on our shoulder-blades. Do come to my assistance: is it not Tertullian who says that the blessed shall travel from star to star?Very well.We shall be the grasshoppers of the stars.

     And then, besides, we shall see God.Ta, ta, ta!What twaddle all these paradises are!God is a nonsensical monster.I would not say that in the Moniteur, egad! but I may whisper it among friends. Inter pocula.To sacrifice the world to paradise is to let slip the prey for the shadow.Be the dupe of the infinite! I'm not such a fool.I am a nought.I call myself Monsieur le Comte Nought, senator.Did I exist before my birth?No. Shall I exist after death?No. What am I?A little dust collected in an organism. What am I to do on this earth?The choice rests with me: suffer or enjoy.Whither will suffering lead me?To nothingness; but I shall have suffered.Whither will enjoyment lead me? To nothingness; but I shall have enjoyed myself.My choice is made. One must eat or be eaten.I shall eat.It is better to be the tooth than the grass.Such is my wisdom.After which, go whither I push thee, the grave-digger is there; the pantheon for some of us: all falls into the great hole.End.Finis.Total liquidation. This is the vanishing-point. Death is death, believe me. I laugh at the idea of there being any one who has anything to tell me on that subject.Fables of nurses; bugaboo for children; Jehovah for men.No; our to-morrow is the night.Beyond the tomb there is nothing but equal nothingness.You have been Sardanapalus, you have been Vincent de paul--it makes no difference.That is the truth.Then live your life, above all things.Make use of your _I_ while you have it.In truth, Bishop, I tell you that I have a philosophy of my own, and I have my philosophers.I don't let myself be taken in with that nonsense.Of course, there must be something for those who are down,--for the barefooted beggars, knife-grinders, and miserable wretches.Legends, chimeras, the soul, immortality, paradise, the stars, are provided for them to swallow. They gobble it down.They spread it on their dry bread. He who has nothing else has the good.God.That is the least he can have.I oppose no objection to that; but I reserve Monsieur Naigeon for myself.The good God is good for the populace."

     The Bishop clapped his hands.
     "That's talking!" he exclaimed."What an excellent and really marvellous thing is this materialism!Not every one who wants it can have it.Ah! when one does have it, one is no longer a dupe, one does not stupidly allow one's self to be exiled like Cato, nor stoned like Stephen, nor burned alive like Jeanne d'Arc. Those who have succeeded in procuring this admirable materialism have the joy of feeling themselves irresponsible, and of thinking that they can devour everything without uneasiness,--places, sinecures, dignities, power, whether well or ill acquired, lucrative recantations, useful treacheries, savory capitulations of conscience,--and that they shall enter the tomb with their digestion accomplished.How agreeable that is! I do not say that with reference to you, senator.Nevertheless, it is impossible for me to refrain from congratulating you.You great lords have, so you say, a philosophy of your own, and for yourselves, which is exquisite, refined, accessible to the rich alone, good for all sauces, and which seasons the voluptuousness of life admirably.This philosophy has been extracted from the depths, and unearthed by special seekers.But you are good-natured princes, and you do not think it a bad thing that belief in the good God should constitute the philosophy of the people, very much as the goose stuffed with chestnuts is the truffled turkey of the poor."

     我们曾提过一个元老院元老，那是个精明而又果断的人，一生行事直截了当，对于人生所会碰到的难题，如良心、信誓、公道、天职之类从不介怀；他一往直前地向着他的目标走去，在他个人发达和利益的道路上，他从不曾动摇过一次。他从前当过检察官，因事事顺利，为人也渐趋温和，他绝不是个有坏心眼的人。他在生活中审慎地抓住那些好的地方、好的机会和好的财源之后，对女儿、女婿、亲戚甚至朋友，也尽力帮些小忙。其余的事，在他看来，好象全是傻事。他善诙谐，通文墨，以伊壁鸠鲁①的信徒自居，实际上也许只不过是比戈勒白朗②之流而已。对无垠的宇宙和永恒的事业，以及“主教老头儿的种种无稽之谈”，他常爱用解颐的妙语来加以述说。有时，他会带着和蔼的高傲样子当面嘲笑米里哀先生，米里哀先生总随便让他嘲笑。
①伊壁鸠鲁（Epicure，公元前 341—270），希腊唯物主义哲学家，主张享乐。②比戈勒白朗（PigaultLebrun），十八世纪法国言情小说家。

     不知是在举行什么半官方典礼时，那位伯爵（就是那位元老）和米里哀先生都在省长公馆里参加宴会。到了用甜品时，这位元老已经略有酒意，不过态度仍旧庄重，他大声说：“主教先生，我们来谈谈。一个元老和一个主教见了面，就难免要彼此眉来眼去，一狼一狈，心照不宣。我要和您谈句知心话。我有我自己的一套哲学。”

     “您说得对，”主教回答，“人总是睡下来搞他的哲学的，何况您是睡在金屋玉堂里的，元老先生。”元老兴致勃发，接着说：“让我们做好孩子。”
     “就做顽皮鬼也没有什么。”主教说。
     “我告诉您，”元老说，“阿尔让斯侯爵、皮垄霍布斯、内戎③先生这些人都不是简单的。在我的图书室里的这些哲学家的书边上，都是烫了金的。”
     “就象您自己一样，元老先生。”主教抢着说。
③皮隆（Pyrrhoh），四世纪希腊怀疑派哲学家。堆布斯（Hobbes，1588—1679），英国唯物主义哲学家。内戎（Naigeon，1738—1810），法国文人，唯物主义者。

     元老接着说：
     “我恨狄德罗，①他是个空想主义者，大言不惭，还搞革命，骨子里却信仰上帝，比伏尔泰还着迷。伏尔泰嘲笑过尼登，他不该那么做，因为尼登的鳝鱼已经证明上帝的无用了。一匙面糊加一滴酸醋，便可以代替圣灵。假设那一滴再大一点，那一匙也再大一点，就等于是这世界了。人就是鳝鱼。又何必要永生之父呢？主教先生，关于耶和华的那种假设让我头痛。它只对那些柔弱无能的人有些用处。打倒那个惹人厌烦的万物之主！虚空万岁！虚空才能叫人心安。
①狄德罗（Diderot，1713—1784），杰出的法国哲学家，机械唯物主义的代表人物，无神论者，法国资产阶级革命的思想家之一，启蒙运动者，百科全书派领袖，一七四九年因自己的著作而被监禁。

     说句知心话，并且我要说个痛快，好好向我的牧师交代一番，我告诉您，我观点明确。您那位东劝人谦让、西劝人牺牲的耶稣瞒不了我的眼睛。那种说法是吝啬鬼对穷鬼的劝告。谦让！为什么？牺牲！为什么？我从未见过一只狼为另一只狼的幸福而去牺牲它自己。我们还是游戏人间的好。人为万物之灵。我们应当有高明的哲学。假使目光如鼠，又何必生为万物之灵？让我们轻轻松松过这一世吧。人生就是一切。

     说人在别的地方，天上、地下，某处，有另外一个来生，我绝不信那些鬼话。哼！有人要我谦让，要我牺牲，那么，一举一动，我都得谨慎小心，我得为善恶、曲直、从违等问题来伤脑筋。为什么？据说对自己的行为我将来必须要做个交代。什么时候？死后，多么好的梦！在我死了以后，有人捉得住我那才叫妙呢。您去喊一只鬼手抓把灰给我看看。我们都是过来人，都是揭过芙蓉仙子的亵衣的人，让我们实话实说吧，这世上只有生物，既无所谓善，也无所谓恶。我们应当追求实际，一直深入下去，穷根究底，有什么大不了的！我们应当发现真理，根究到底，把真理掌握在自己的手里。那样它才会给你一种至上之乐。那样你才会充满信心，仰天朗笑。我绝不含糊，我。主教先生，永生之说只能哄哄小孩。哈！多么中听的诺言！您去信您的吧！骗鬼的空头支票。人是灵魂，人能成为天使，人能在肩胛骨上生出一对蓝翅膀。

     有福气的人能从这一个星球飘游到那一个星球，请您告诉我，这句话是不是德尔图良①说的。就算是吧。我们会变成星际间的蝗虫。还会看见上帝，等等，等等。什么天堂，胡说八道而已。上帝是种荒谬透顶的胡说。我当然不会在政府公报里说这种话。朋友之间，却不妨悄悄地谈谈。酒后之言嘛。为了天堂牺牲人世，等于捕雀捉影。为永生之说所愚弄！还不至于那么蠢。我是一无所有的。我就叫一无所有伯爵，元老院元老。在我生前，有我吗？否。在我死后，有我吗？否。我是什么呢？我不过是一粒和有机体组合起来的尘土。
①德尔图良（Tertullien，约 150—222），基督教反动神学家。

     在这世界上我有什么事要做？我能选择，是受苦还是享乐。受苦，那会把我引到什么地方去呢？引到一无所有。而我得受一辈子的苦。享乐又会把我引到什么地方去呢？也是引到一无所有。而我可以享一辈子的乐。我已经选定了。不吃就得被吃。做牙齿总比做草料好些。那正是我聪明的地方。死了，听其自然，掘坟坑的人会来的，坟坑便是我们这种人的先贤祠，一切都会落入那大洞之中。完事大吉。一切皆空。全部清算完毕。那正是一切化为乌有的结局。请相信我，连死的份也都不会再有了。说什么还有一个人在等着我去谈话，我想起来就忍不住发笑。奶妈的创作。奶妈发明了妖怪来吓唬小孩，也发明了耶和华来吓唬大人。

     不，我们的明天不过是一片黑暗。在坟墓的后面，一无所有，这对任何人来说也都一样。即使你做过萨尔达尼拔②，即使你做过味增爵③，结果都一样归于乌有。这是真话。因此，享乐高于一切。当你还有你的时候，就应当利用这个你。老实说，我告诉您，主教先生，我有我的一套哲学，也有我的志趣相投之辈。我不让那些无稽之谈来牵着我的鼻子走。
②萨尔达尼拔（Sardanapale），又译亚述巴尼拔（Assurbanipal，前 668—约前 626），亚述国王。
③味增爵（VincentdePaul，1581—1660），法国天主教遣使会和仁爱会的创始人。）

     可是，对于那些下等人，那些赤脚鬼、穷光蛋、无赖汉，却应当另有一套东西。我们不妨享以种种传说、幻想、灵魂、永生、天堂、星宿。让他们大嚼特嚼，让他们拿去涂到他们的干面包上。两手空空的人总算也还捧着一位慈悲的上帝。那并不算过分。我也一点不反对，但为我自己，我还是要留下我的内戎先生。慈悲的上帝对平民来说，还是必要的。”

     主教鼓掌大声说：
     “妙论，妙论！这个唯物主义，的确是一种妙不可言的东西，找都找不到。哈！一旦掌握了它，谁也就不上当了，谁也就不会再傻头傻脑，象卡托①那样任人放逐，象艾蒂安②那样任人用石头打死，象贞德③那样任人活活烧死了。获得了这种宝贵的唯物主义的人，也就有无事一身轻快感，并认为自己可以心安理得地霸占一切，地盘、恩俸、荣誉、正当得来或歪道得来的权力，可以为金钱违反信义，为功利背叛朋友，昧尽天良却还可以自鸣得意，等到酒肉消化完了，便往坟墓里一躺了事。那好舒服。
①卡托（Caton，前 234—149），罗马政治家和作家，贵族特权的拥护者，为监察官时非常严肃，不近人情。
②艾蒂安（Etienne），基督教的一个殉教徒，最后死在耶路撒冷。
③贞德（Jeanned'Arc），百年战争期间法国的民族女英雄，一四三一年被俘，被焚死。）

     我这些话并不是为您的，元老先生。可是我不能为您不庆贺。你们那些贵人，正如您所言，有一套自己的、为你们自己服务的哲学，一 套巧妙、高明、仅仅适用于有钱人、可以调和各种口味、增加人生乐趣、美妙无比的哲学。那种哲学是通过特殊钻探家从地下深处发掘得来的。一般平民以信仰上帝作为他们的哲学，正如穷人以栗子烧鹅肉当作蘑菇煨火鸡，而您并不认为那是件坏事，您的的确确是一位忠厚长者。”

     In order to furnish an idea of the private establishment of the Bishop of D----, and of the manner in which those two sainted women subordinated their actions, their thoughts, their feminine instincts even, which are easily alarmed, to the habits and purposes of the Bishop, without his even taking the trouble of speaking in order to explain them, we cannot do better than transcribe in this place a letter from Mademoiselle Baptistine to Madame the Vicomtess de Boischevron, the friend of her childhood.This letter is in our possession.

     D----, Dec. 16, 18--. MY GOOD MADAM:Not a day passes without our speaking of you. It is our established custom; but there is another reason besides. Just imagine, while washing and dusting the ceilings and walls, Madam Magloire has made some discoveries; now our two chambers hung with antique paper whitewashed over, would not discredit a chateau in the style of yours.Madam Magloire has pulled off all the paper. There were things beneath.My drawing-room, which contains no furniture, and which we use for spreading out the linen after washing, is fifteen feet in height, eighteen square, with a ceiling which was formerly painted and gilded, and with beams, as in yours. This was covered with a cloth while this was the hospital. And the woodwork was of the era of our grandmothers.But my room is the one you ought to see.Madam Magloire has discovered, under at least ten thicknesses of paper pasted on top, some paintings, which without being good are very tolerable.The subject is Telemachus being knighted by Minerva in some gardens, the name of which escapes me.In short, where the Roman ladies repaired on one single night.What shall I say to you?I have Romans, and Roman ladies (here occurs an illegible word), and the whole train. Madam Magloire has cleaned it all off; this summer she is going to have some small injuries repaired, and the whole revarnished, and my chamber will be a regular museum.She has also found in a corner of the attic two wooden pier-tables of ancient fashion. They asked us two crowns of six francs each to regild them, but it is much better to give the money to the poor; and they are very ugly besides, and I should much prefer a round table of mahogany.

     I am always very happy.My brother is so good.He gives all he has to the poor and sick.We are very much cramped.The country is trying in the winter, and we really must do something for those who are in need.We are almost comfortably lighted and warmed. You see that these are great treats.

     My brother has ways of his own.When he talks, he says that a bishop ought to be so.Just imagine! the door of our house is never fastened. Whoever chooses to enter finds himself at once in my brother's room. He fears nothing, even at night.That is his sort of bravery, he says.

     He does not wish me or Madame Magloire feel any fear for him. He exposes himself to all sorts of dangers, and he does not like to have us even seem to notice it.One must know how to understand him.

     He goes out in the rain, he walks in the water, he travels in winter. He fears neither suspicious roads nor dangerous encounters, nor night.

     Last year he went quite alone into a country of robbers.He would not take us.He was absent for a fortnight.On his return nothing had happened to him; he was thought to be dead, but was perfectly well, and said, "This is the way I have been robbed!"And then he opened a trunk full of jewels, all the jewels of the cathedral of Embrun, which the thieves had given him.

     When he returned on that occasion, I could not refrain from scolding him a little, taking care, however, not to speak except when the carriage was making a noise, so that no one might hear me.

     At first I used to say to myself, "There are no dangers which will stop him; he is terrible."Now I have ended by getting used to it. I make a sign to Madam Magloire that she is not to oppose him. He risks himself as he sees fit.I carry off Madam Magloire, I enter my chamber, I pray for him and fall asleep.I am at ease, because I know that if anything were to happen to him, it would be the end of me.I should go to the good God with my brother and my bishop.It has cost Madam Magloire more trouble than it did me to accustom herself to what she terms his imprudences.But now the habit has been acquired.We pray together, we tremble together, and we fall asleep.If the devil were to enter this house, he would be allowed to do so.After all, what is there for us to fear in this house?There is always some one with us who is stronger than we.The devil may pass through it, but the good God dwells here.

     This suffices me.My brother has no longer any need of saying a word to me.I understand him without his speaking, and we abandon ourselves to the care of providence.That is the way one has to do with a man who possesses grandeur of soul.

     I have interrogated my brother with regard to the information which you desire on the subject of the Faux family.You are aware that he knows everything, and that he has memories, because he is still a very good royalist.They really are a very ancient Norman family of the generalship of Caen.Five hundred years ago there was a Raoul de Faux, a Jean de Faux, and a Thomas de Faux, who were gentlemen, and one of whom was a seigneur de Rochefort. The last was Guy-Etienne-Alexandre, and was commander of a regiment, and something in the light horse of Bretagne.His daughter, Marie-Louise, married Adrien-Charles de Gramont, son of the Duke Louis de Gramont, peer of France, colonel of the French guards, and lieutenant-general of the army.It is written Faux, Fauq, and Faoucq.

     Good Madame, recommend us to the prayers of your sainted relative, Monsieur the Cardinal.As for your dear Sylvanie, she has done well in not wasting the few moments which she passes with you in writing to me.She is well, works as you would wish, and loves me.

     That is all that I desire.The souvenir which she sent through you reached me safely, and it makes me very happy.My health is not so very bad, and yet I grow thinner every day.Farewell; my paper is at an end, and this forces me to leave you.A thousand good wishes. BApTISTINE.
     p.S. Your grand nephew is charming.Do you know that he will soon be five years old?Yesterday he saw some one riding by on horseback who had on knee-caps, and he said, "What has he got on his knees?" He is a charming child!His little brother is dragging an old broom about the room, like a carriage, and saying, "Hu!"

     As will be perceived from this letter, these two women understood how to mould themselves to the Bishop's ways with that special feminine genius which comprehends the man better than he comprehends himself. The Bishop of D----, in spite of the gentle and candid air which never deserted him, sometimes did things that were grand, bold, and magnificent, without seeming to have even a suspicion of the fact. They trembled, but they let him alone.Sometimes Madame Magloire essayed a remonstrance in advance, but never at the time, nor afterwards. They never interfered with him by so much as a word or sign, in any action once entered upon.At certain moments, without his having occasion to mention it, when he was not even conscious of it himself in all probability, so perfect was his simplicity, they vaguely felt that he was acting as a bishop; then they were nothing more than two shadows in the house.They served him passively; and if obedience consisted in disappearing, they disappeared. They understood, with an admirable delicacy of instinct, that certain cares may be put under constraint.Thus, even when believing him to be in peril, they understood, I will not say his thought, but his nature, to such a degree that they no longer watched over him. They confided him to God.

     Moreover, Baptistine said, as we have just read, that her brother's end would prove her own.Madame Magloire did not say this, but she knew it.

     要说明迪涅主教先生的家庭概况，要说明那两位圣女怎样用她们的行动、思想、甚至女性的那种易受惊吓的本能去屈从主教的习惯和意愿，使他连开口吩咐的烦琐也一概免了，我们最好是在这里把巴狄斯丁姑娘写给她幼年时的朋友波瓦舍佛隆子爵夫人的一封信转录下来。那封信在我们的手里：我仁慈的夫人，我们没有一天不谈到您。那虽然是我们的习惯，也还有另外一 个理由。您没有想到，马格洛大娘居然在洗刷天花板和墙壁时，发现了许多东西。

     现在我们这两间原来裱着旧纸、刷过灰浆的房间，和您那子爵府第相比，也不至于再有逊色。马格洛大娘撕去了全部的纸。那下面有些东西。我们用来晾衣服、没有家具的那间客厅，有十五尺高，十八尺见方，天花板和梁上都画了仿古金花，正和府上一样。从前当作医院时，它是用块布遮住了的。还有我们祖母时代的板壁。不过应当看看的是我的房间。马格洛大娘在那至少有十层的裱墙纸下发现了一些油画，虽然不好，却还过得去。画的是密涅瓦①封忒勒玛科斯②为骑士。另一幅园景里也有他。
①密涅瓦（Minerva），艺术和智悲之神。②忒勒玛科斯（Telemaque），智勇之神。

     那花园的名字我一时想不起了。总之是罗马贵妇们在某一夜到过的地方。我还要说什么？那上面有罗马（这儿有个字，字迹不明）男子和妇女以及他们的全部侍从。马格洛大娘把一切都擦拭干净，今年夏天，她还要修整几道小小的破损之处，全部重行油漆，我的屋子就会变成一间名符其实的油画陈列馆了。她还在顶楼角落里找出了两只古式壁几。可是重上一次金漆就得花去两枚值六利弗的银币，这还不如留给穷人们用好些；并且式样也相当丑陋，我觉得如果能有一张紫檀木圆桌，我还更中意些。
    
     我总是过得很快乐。我哥是那么仁厚，他把他所有的一切施给穷人和病人。我们手边非常拮据。到了冬天这地方就很苦。帮助穷人总是应当的。我们还算有火有灯。您瞧，这样已经很温暖了。
    
     我哥有他独特的习惯。他在聊天时，老说一个主教应当这样。您想想，我们家里的大门总是不关的。任何人都可以闯进来，并且开了门就是我哥的屋子。他什么都不怕，连黑夜也不怕。照他的话说来，那是他特有的果敢。
    
     他不要我替他担忧，也不要马格洛大娘替他担忧。他冒着各种危险，还不许我们露出危险的神色。我们应当知道怎样去领会他的想法。
他常在下雨时出门，在水里行走，在严冬旅行。他不怕黑夜，不怕陌生的道路和遭遇。
    
     去年，他独自一人走到匪窟里去了。他不肯带我们去。他去了两个星期。一直到回来，他什么危险也没碰着。我们以为他死了，而他却健康得很。他还说你们看我遭抢了没有。他打开一只大箱子，里面装满了昂布伦天主堂的珍宝，是那些土匪送给他的。
那一次，在他回来时，我和他的几位朋友，到两里路远的地方去迎接他。我实在不得不稍微责备了他几句，可我很小心，只在车轮响动时才说话，免得旁人听见了。

     起初，我常对自己说：“没有什么能阻拦他，他是真够叫人着急的。”到现在，我也习惯了。我常向马格洛大娘使眼色叫她不要惹他。他要冒险，让他去。我带着马格洛大娘回我的房间。我为他祷告。我睡我的觉。我安心，因为我知道，万一他遇到不幸，我也决不再活了。我要随着我的哥兼我的主教一同归天。马格洛大娘对她所谓的“他的粗心大意”却看不惯，但是到现在，习惯已成自然。我们俩一同害怕，一同祈祷，也一同睡去。魔鬼可以走进那些可以让它放肆的人家，但在我们家里，有什么可怕的呢？最强的那位时常是和我们同在一道的，魔鬼可以经过此地，但慈悲的上帝却常住在我们家。
    
     这样我已经满足了。我的哥现在用不着再吩咐我什么，他不开口，我也能领会他的意思。我们把自己交给了天主。
这就是我们和一个胸襟开阔之人的相处之道。您问我关于傅家的历史，这事我已向我哥问明了。您知道，他知道得好清楚，记得好详细呵。因为他始终是一个非常忠实的保皇党。那的确是卡昂税区一家很老的诺曼底世家。五百年来，有一个拉乌尔?德?傅，一个让?德?傅和一个托马?德?傅，都是贵人，其中一个是罗什福尔采地的领主。最末的一个是居伊?艾蒂安?亚历山大，他当过营长，在布列塔尼的轻骑队里也相当有地位。他的女儿玛丽?路易丝嫁给了法兰西世卿，法兰西警卫军大佐和陆军中将路易?德?格勒蒙的儿子阿德利安?查理?德?格勒蒙。他们的姓，傅，有三种写法：Faux，Fauq，Faoucq。
    
     仁慈的夫人，请您代求贵戚红衣主教先生为我们祷告。至于您亲爱的西尔华尼，她没有浪费她亲近您的短暂时间来和我写信，那是对的。她既然身体好，也能依照尊意工作，并且仍旧爱我，那已是我所希望的一切了。我从尊处得到她的问候，我感到幸福。我的身体并不太坏，可是一天比一天消瘦下去了。再谈，纸已写满了，我只得住笔。一切安好。
    
     巴狄斯丁一八??年，十二月十六日，于迪涅。再者：令嫂仍和她令郎的家眷住在此地。
     您的侄孙真可爱。您知道，他快五岁了！昨天他看见一匹马走过，腿上裹了护膝，他说：“它膝头上是什么？”那孩子，他是那样逗人喜欢。他的小兄弟在屋子里拖着一把破扫帚当车子，嘴里还喊着：“走！”
    
     从信里我们可以看出，那两位妇人知道用女性所特有的那种比男子更了解男子的天才，去曲意顺从主教的生活方式。迪涅那位主教有着那种始终不渝、温和敦厚的神情风度，有时作出一些伟大、果敢、辉煌的行动，却仿佛连他自己也不觉得。她们为那些事提心吊胆，但还是让他去做。马格洛大娘有时试着在事先劝劝，但从不在事情进行时或事后多话。事情开始了，她们就从不阻拦他，连一点神色也不表露。某些时候，她们只似懂非懂地觉得他是在尽主教之职；他自己并不说出，甚至连他自己也不一定有那种感觉，因为他的那种赤子之心是那样淳朴，因此，她们在家里不过是两个黑影。她们被动地服侍着他，如果为了服从应当退避，她们便退避。由于一种可喜的、体贴入微的本能，她们知道，某种关切反倒会使他感到为难。我不说她们能了解他的思想，但是她们了解他的性格，所以即便知道他是在危险中，也只有不闻不问。她们把他托付给了上帝。
    
     而且巴狄斯丁还常说，正如我们刚才念过的，她哥的不幸也就等于她自己的末日。马格洛大娘没那样说，但她心里也有数。

     At an epoch a little later than the date of the letter cited in the preceding pages, he did a thing which, if the whole town was to be believed, was even more hazardous than his trip across the mountains infested with bandits.

     In the country near D---- a man lived quite alone.This man, we will state at once, was a former member of the Convention. His name was G----

     Member of the Convention, G---- was mentioned with a sort of horror in the little world of D---- A member of the Convention--can you imagine such a thing?That existed from the time when people called each other thou, and when they said "citizen."This man was almost a monster.He had not voted for the death of the king, but almost.He was a quasi-regicide. He had been a terrible man. How did it happen that such a man had not been brought before a provost's court, on the return of the legitimate princes? They need not have cut off his head, if you please; clemency must be exercised, agreed; but a good banishment for life.An example, in short, etc.Besides, he was an atheist, like all the rest of those people.Gossip of the geese about the vulture.

    Was G---- a vulture after all?Yes; if he were to be judged by the element of ferocity in this solitude of his.As he had not voted for the death of the king, he had not been included in the decrees of exile, and had been able to remain in France.

    He dwelt at a distance of three-quarters of an hour from the city, far from any hamlet, far from any road, in some hidden turn of a very wild valley, no one knew exactly where.He had there, it was said, a sort of field, a hole, a lair.There were no neighbors, not even passers-by. Since he had dwelt in that valley, the path which led thither had disappeared under a growth of grass. The locality was spoken of as though it had been the dwelling of a hangman.

    Nevertheless, the Bishop meditated on the subject, and from time to time he gazed at the horizon at a point where a clump of trees marked the valley of the former member of the Convention, and he said, "There is a soul yonder which is lonely."
    And he added, deep in his own mind, "I owe him a visit."

    But, let us avow it, this idea, which seemed natural at the first blush, appeared to him after a moment's reflection, as strange, impossible, and almost repulsive.For, at bottom, he shared the general impression, and the old member of the Convention inspired him, without his being clearly conscious of the fact himself, with that sentiment which borders on hate, and which is so well expressed by the word estrangement.

    Still, should the scab of the sheep cause the shepherd to recoil? No. But what a sheep!
    The good Bishop was perplexed.Sometimes he set out in that direction; then he returned.

    Finally, the rumor one day spread through the town that a sort of young shepherd, who served the member of the Convention in his hovel, had come in quest of a doctor; that the old wretch was dying, that paralysis was gaining on him, and that he would not live over night.--"Thank God!" some added.

    The Bishop took his staff, put on his cloak, on account of his too threadbare cassock, as we have mentioned, and because of the evening breeze which was sure to rise soon, and set out.

    The sun was setting, and had almost touched the horizon when the Bishop arrived at the excommunicated spot.With a certain beating of the heart, he recognized the fact that he was near the lair. He strode over a ditch, leaped a hedge, made his way through a fence of dead boughs, entered a neglected paddock, took a few steps with a good deal of boldness, and suddenly, at the extremity of the waste land, and behind lofty brambles, he caught sight of the cavern.

    It was a very low hut, poor, small, and clean, with a vine nailed against the outside.
    Near the door, in an old wheel-chair, the arm-chair of the peasants, there was a white-haired man, smiling at the sun.
    Near the seated man stood a young boy, the shepherd lad. He was offering the old man a jar of milk.

    While the Bishop was watching him, the old man spoke:"Thank you," he said, "I need nothing."And his smile quitted the sun to rest upon the child.
    The Bishop stepped forward.At the sound which he made in walking, the old man turned his head, and his face expressed the sum total of the surprise which a man can still feel after a long life.

    "This is the first time since I have been here," said he, "that any one has entered here.Who are you, sir?"
    The Bishop answered:--
    "My name is Bienvenu Myriel."
    "Bienvenu Myriel?I have heard that name.Are you the man whom the people call Monseigneur Welcome?"
    "I am."

    The old man resumed with a half-smile
    "In that case, you are my bishop?"
    "Something of that sort."
    "Enter, sir."

    The member of the Convention extended his hand to the Bishop, but the Bishop did not take it.The Bishop confined himself to the remark:--
    "I am pleased to see that I have been misinformed.You certainly do not seem to me to be ill."
    "Monsieur," replied the old man, "I am going to recover."
    He paused, and then said:--
    "I shall die three hours hence."

    Then he continued:--
    "I am something of a doctor; I know in what fashion the last hour draws on.Yesterday, only my feet were cold; to-day, the chill has ascended to my knees; now I feel it mounting to my waist; when it reaches the heart, I shall stop.The sun is beautiful, is it not?I had myself wheeled out here to take a last look at things.You can talk to me; it does not fatigue me.You have done well to come and look at a man who is on the point of death. It is well that there should be witnesses at that moment.One has one's caprices; I should have liked to last until the dawn, but I know that I shall hardly live three hours.It will be night then. What does it matter, after all?Dying is a simple affair. One has no need of the light for that.So be it.I shall die by starlight."

    The old man turned to the shepherd lad:--
    "Go to thy bed; thou wert awake all last night; thou art tired."
    The child entered the hut.
    The old man followed him with his eyes, and added, as though speaking to himself:--
    "I shall die while he sleeps.The two slumbers may be good neighbors."

    The Bishop was not touched as it seems that he should have been. He did not think he discerned God in this manner of dying; let us say the whole, for these petty contradictions of great hearts must be indicated like the rest:he, who on occasion, was so fond of laughing at "His Grace," was rather shocked at not being addressed as Monseigneur, and he was almost tempted to retort "citizen." He was assailed by a fancy for peevish familiarity, common enough to doctors and priests, but which was not habitual with him. This man, after all, this member of the Convention, this representative of the people, had been one of the powerful ones of the earth; for the first time in his life, probably, the Bishop felt in a mood to be severe.

    Meanwhile, the member of the Convention had been surveying him with a modest cordiality, in which one could have distinguished, possibly, that humility which is so fitting when one is on the verge of returning to dust.

    The Bishop, on his side, although he generally restrained his curiosity, which, in his opinion, bordered on a fault, could not refrain from examining the member of the Convention with an attention which, as it did not have its course in sympathy, would have served his conscience as a matter of reproach, in connection with any other man. A member of the Convention produced on him somewhat the effect of being outside the pale of the law, even of the law of charity.G----, calm, his body almost upright, his voice vibrating, was one of those octogenarians who form the subject of astonishment to the physiologist. The Revolution had many of these men, proportioned to the epoch. In this old man one was conscious of a man put to the proof. Though so near to his end, he preserved all the gestures of health. In his clear glance, in his firm tone, in the robust movement of his shoulders, there was something calculated to disconcert death. Azrael, the Mohammedan angel of the sepulchre, would have turned back, and thought that he had mistaken the door.G---- seemed to be dying because he willed it so.There was freedom in his agony.His legs alone were motionless.It was there that the shadows held him fast. His feet were cold and dead, but his head survived with all the power of life, and seemed full of light.G----, at this solemn moment, resembled the king in that tale of the Orient who was flesh above and marble below.

    There was a stone there.The Bishop sat down.The exordium was abrupt.
    "I congratulate you," said he, in the tone which one uses for a reprimand."You did not vote for the death of the king, after all."
    The old member of the Convention did not appear to notice the bitter meaning underlying the words "after all."He replied. The smile had quite disappeared from his face.

    "Do not congratulate me too much, sir.I did vote for the death of the tyrant."
    It was the tone of austerity answering the tone of severity.
    "What do you mean to say?" resumed the Bishop.
    "I mean to say that man has a tyrant,--ignorance.I voted for the death of that tyrant.That tyrant engendered royalty, which is authority falsely understood, while science is authority rightly understood. Man should be governed only by science."

    "And conscience," added the Bishop.
    "It is the same thing.Conscience is the quantity of innate science which we have within us."
    Monseigneur Bienvenu listened in some astonishment to this language, which was very new to him.

    The member of the Convention resumed:--
    "So far as Louis XVI.was concerned, I said `no.' I did not think that I had the right to kill a man; but I felt it my duty to exterminate evil.I voted the end of the tyrant, that is to say, the end of prostitution for woman, the end of slavery for man, the end of night for the child.In voting for the Republic, I voted for that.I voted for fraternity, concord, the dawn. I have aided in the overthrow of prejudices and errors.The crumbling away of prejudices and errors causes light.We have caused the fall of the old world, and the old world, that vase of miseries, has become, through its upsetting upon the human race, an urn of joy."

    "Mixed joy," said the Bishop.
    "You may say troubled joy, and to-day, after that fatal return of the past, which is called 1814, joy which has disappeared! Alas!The work was incomplete, I admit:we demolished the ancient regime in deeds; we were not able to suppress it entirely in ideas. To destroy abuses is not sufficient; customs must be modified. The mill is there no longer; the wind is still there."
    "You have demolished.It may be of use to demolish, but I distrust a demolition complicated with wrath."

    "Right has its wrath, Bishop; and the wrath of right is an element of progress.In any case, and in spite of whatever may be said, the French Revolution is the most important step of the human race since the advent of Christ.Incomplete, it may be, but sublime. It set free all the unknown social quantities; it softened spirits, it calmed, appeased, enlightened; it caused the waves of civilization to flow over the earth.It was a good thing.The French Revolution is the consecration of humanity."

    The Bishop could not refrain from murmuring:--
    "Yes? '93!"
    The member of the Convention straightened himself up in his chair with an almost lugubrious solemnity, and exclaimed, so far as a dying man is capable of exclamation:--

    "Ah, there you go; '93!I was expecting that word.A cloud had been forming for the space of fifteen hundred years; at the end of fifteen hundred years it burst.You are putting the thunderbolt on its trial."
    The Bishop felt, without, perhaps, confessing it, that something within him had suffered extinction.Nevertheless, he put a good face on the matter.He replied:--

    "The judge speaks in the name of justice; the priest speaks in the name of pity, which is nothing but a more lofty justice. A thunderbolt should commit no error."And he added, regarding the member of the Convention steadily the while, "Louis XVII.?"
    The conventionary stretched forth his hand and grasped the Bishop's arm.

    "Louis XVII.! let us see.For whom do you mourn? is it for the innocent child? very good; in that case I mourn with you. Is it for the royal child?I demand time for reflection. To me, the brother of Cartouche, an innocent child who was hung up by the armpits in the place de Greve, until death ensued, for the sole crime of having been the brother of Cartouche, is no less painful than the grandson of Louis XV., an innocent child, martyred in the tower of the Temple, for the sole crime of having been grandson of Louis XV."

    "Monsieur," said the Bishop, "I like not this conjunction of names."
    "Cartouche?Louis XV.? To which of the two do you object?"
    A momentary silence ensued.The Bishop almost regretted having come, and yet he felt vaguely and strangely shaken.

    The conventionary resumed:--
    "Ah, Monsieur priest, you love not the crudities of the true. Christ loved them.He seized a rod and cleared out the Temple. His scourge, full of lightnings, was a harsh speaker of truths. When he cried, `Sinite parvulos,' he made no distinction between the little children.It would not have embarrassed him to bring together the Dauphin of Barabbas and the Dauphin of Herod.Innocence, Monsieur, is its own crown.Innocence has no need to be a highness. It is as august in rags as in fleurs de lys."

    "That is true," said the Bishop in a low voice.
    "I persist," continued the conventionary G---- "You have mentioned Louis XVII.to me.Let us come to an understanding.Shall we weep for all the innocent, all martyrs, all children, the lowly as well as the exalted?I agree to that.But in that case, as I have told you, we must go back further than '93, and our tears must begin before Louis XVII.I will weep with you over the children of kings, provided that you will weep with me over the children of the people."

    "I weep for all," said the Bishop.
    "Equally!" exclaimed conventionary G----; "and if the balance must incline, let it be on the side of the people.They have been suffering longer."

    Another silence ensued.The conventionary was the first to break it. He raised himself on one elbow, took a bit of his cheek between his thumb and his forefinger, as one does mechanically when one interrogates and judges, and appealed to the Bishop with a gaze full of all the forces of the death agony.It was almost an explosion.

    "Yes, sir, the people have been suffering a long while.And hold! that is not all, either; why have you just questioned me and talked to me about Louis XVII.? I know you not.Ever since I have been in these parts I have dwelt in this enclosure alone, never setting foot outside, and seeing no one but that child who helps me. Your name has reached me in a confused manner, it is true, and very badly pronounced, I must admit; but that signifies nothing:clever men have so many ways of imposing on that honest goodman, the people. By the way, I did not hear the sound of your carriage; you have left it yonder, behind the coppice at the fork of the roads, no doubt. I do not know you, I tell you.You have told me that you are the Bishop; but that affords me no information as to your moral personality. In short, I repeat my question.Who are you?You are a bishop; that is to say, a prince of the church, one of those gilded men with heraldic bearings and revenues, who have vast prebends,-- the bishopric of D---- fifteen thousand francs settled income, ten thousand in perquisites; total, twenty-five thousand francs,-- who have kitchens, who have liveries, who make good cheer, who eat moor-hens on Friday, who strut about, a lackey before, a lackey behind, in a gala coach, and who have palaces, and who roll in their carriages in the name of Jesus Christ who went barefoot! You are a prelate,--revenues, palace, horses, servants, good table, all the sensualities of life; you have this like the rest, and like the rest, you enjoy it; it is well; but this says either too much or too little; this does not enlighten me upon the intrinsic and essential value of the man who comes with the probable intention of bringing wisdom to me.To whom do I speak? Who are you?"

    The Bishop hung his head and replied, "Vermis sum--I am a worm."
    "A worm of the earth in a carriage?" growled the conventionary.
    It was the conventionary's turn to be arrogant, and the Bishop's to be humble.

    The Bishop resumed mildly:--
    "So be it, sir.But explain to me how my carriage, which is a few paces off behind the trees yonder, how my good table and the moor-hens which I eat on Friday, how my twenty-five thousand francs income, how my palace and my lackeys prove that clemency is not a duty, and that '93 was not inexorable.

    The conventionary passed his hand across his brow, as though to sweep away a cloud.
    "Before replying to you," he said, "I beseech you to pardon me. I have just committed a wrong, sir.You are at my house, you are my guest, I owe you courtesy.You discuss my ideas, and it becomes me to confine myself to combating your arguments.Your riches and your pleasures are advantages which I hold over you in the debate; but good taste dictates that I shall not make use of them.I promise you to make no use of them in the future."
    "I thank you," said the Bishop.

    G---- resumed.
    "Let us return to the explanation which you have asked of me. Where were we?What were you saying to me?That '93 was inexorable?"
    "Inexorable; yes," said the Bishop."What think you of Marat clapping his hands at the guillotine?"
    "What think you of Bossuet chanting the Te Deum over the dragonnades?"

    The retort was a harsh one, but it attained its mark with the directness of a point of steel.The Bishop quivered under it; no reply occurred to him; but he was offended by this mode of alluding to Bossuet.The best of minds will have their fetiches, and they sometimes feel vaguely wounded by the want of respect of logic.
    The conventionary began to pant; the asthma of the agony which is mingled with the last breaths interrupted his voice; still, there was a perfect lucidity of soul in his eyes.He went on:--

    "Let me say a few words more in this and that direction; I am willing.Apart from the Revolution, which, taken as a whole, is an immense human affirmation, '93 is, alas! a rejoinder. You think it inexorable, sir; but what of the whole monarchy, sir? Carrier is a bandit; but what name do you give to Montrevel? Fouquier-Tainville is a rascal; but what is your opinion as to Lamoignon-Baville? Maillard is terrible; but Saulx-Tavannes, if you please?Duchene senior is ferocious; but what epithet will you allow me for the elder Letellier?Jourdan-Coupe-Tete is a monster; but not so great a one as M. the Marquis de Louvois. Sir, sir, I am sorry for Marie Antoinette, archduchess and queen; but I am also sorry for that poor Huguenot woman, who, in 1685, under Louis the Great, sir, while with a nursing infant, was bound, naked to the waist, to a stake, and the child kept at a distance; her breast swelled with milk and her heart with anguish; the little one, hungry and pale, beheld that breast and cried and agonized; the executioner said to the woman, a mother and a nurse, `Abjure!' giving her her choice between the death of her infant and the death of her conscience.What say you to that torture of Tantalus as applied to a mother?Bear this well in mind sir: the French Revolution had its reasons for existence; its wrath will be absolved by the future; its result is the world made better. From its most terrible blows there comes forth a caress for the human race.I abridge, I stop, I have too much the advantage; moreover, I am dying."

    And ceasing to gaze at the Bishop, the conventionary concluded his thoughts in these tranquil words:--
    "Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions. When they are over, this fact is recognized,--that the human race has been treated harshly, but that it has progressed."

    The conventionary doubted not that he had successively conquered all the inmost intrenchments of the Bishop.One remained, however, and from this intrenchment, the last resource of Monseigneur Bienvenu's resistance, came forth this reply, wherein appeared nearly all the harshness of the beginning:--

    "progress should believe in God.Good cannot have an impious servitor. He who is an atheist is but a bad leader for the human race."
     The former representative of the people made no reply.He was seized with a fit of trembling.He looked towards heaven, and in his glance a tear gathered slowly.When the eyelid was full, the tear trickled down his livid cheek, and he said, almost in a stammer, quite low, and to himself, while his eyes were plunged in the depths:--

    "O thou!O ideal!Thou alone existest!"
    The Bishop experienced an indescribable shock.
    After a pause, the old man raised a finger heavenward and said:--
    "The infinite is.He is there.If the infinite had no person, person would be without limit; it would not be infinite; in other words, it would not exist.There is, then, an _I_. That _I_ of the infinite is God."

    The dying man had pronounced these last words in a loud voice, and with the shiver of ecstasy, as though he beheld some one. When he had spoken, his eyes closed.The effort had exhausted him. It was evident that he had just lived through in a moment the few hours which had been left to him.That which he had said brought him nearer to him who is in death.The supreme moment was approaching.

    The Bishop understood this; time pressed; it was as a priest that he had come:from extreme coldness he had passed by degrees to extreme emotion; he gazed at those closed eyes, he took that wrinkled, aged and ice-cold hand in his, and bent over the dying man.
    "This hour is the hour of God.Do you not think that it would be regrettable if we had met in vain?"
    The conventionary opened his eyes again.A gravity mingled with gloom was imprinted on his countenance.

    "Bishop," said he, with a slowness which probably arose more from his dignity of soul than from the failing of his strength, "I have passed my life in meditation, study, and contemplation. I was sixty years of age when my country called me and commanded me to concern myself with its affairs.I obeyed.Abuses existed, I combated them; tyrannies existed, I destroyed them; rights and principles existed, I proclaimed and confessed them.Our territory was invaded, I defended it; France was menaced, I offered my breast. I was not rich; I am poor.I have been one of the masters of the state; the vaults of the treasury were encumbered with specie to such a degree that we were forced to shore up the walls, which were on the point of bursting beneath the weight of gold and silver; I dined in Dead Tree Street, at twenty-two sous. I have succored the oppressed, I have comforted the suffering. I tore the cloth from the altar, it is true; but it was to bind up the wounds of my country.I have always upheld the march forward of the human race, forward towards the light, and I have sometimes resisted progress without pity.I have, when the occasion offered, protected my own adversaries, men of your profession.And there is at peteghem, in Flanders, at the very spot where the Merovingian kings had their summer palace, a convent of Urbanists, the Abbey of Sainte Claire en Beaulieu, which I saved in 1793.I have done my duty according to my powers, and all the good that I was able. After which, I was hunted down, pursued, persecuted, blackened, jeered at, scorned, cursed, proscribed.For many years past, I with my white hair have been conscious that many people think they have the right to despise me; to the poor ignorant masses I present the visage of one damned.And I accept this isolation of hatred, without hating any one myself.Now I am eighty-six years old; I am on the point of death.What is it that you have come to ask of me?"

    "Your blessing," said the Bishop.
    And he knelt down.
    When the Bishop raised his head again, the face of the conventionary had become august.He had just expired.
    The Bishop returned home, deeply absorbed in thoughts which cannot be known to us.He passed the whole night in prayer. On the following morning some bold and curious persons attempted to speak to him about member of the Convention G----; he contented himself with pointing heavenward.

    From that moment he redoubled his tenderness and brotherly feeling towards all children and sufferers.
    Any allusion to "that old wretch of a G----" caused him to fall into a singular preoccupation.No one could say that the passage of that soul before his, and the reflection of that grand conscience upon his, did not count for something in his approach to perfection.
    This "pastoral visit" naturally furnished an occasion for a murmur of comment in all the little local coteries.

    "Was the bedside of such a dying man as that the proper place for a bishop?There was evidently no conversion to be expected. All those revolutionists are backsliders.Then why go there? What was there to be seen there?He must have been very curious indeed to see a soul carried off by the devil."

    One day a dowager of the impertinent variety who thinks herself spiritual, addressed this sally to him, "Monseigneur, people are inquiring when Your Greatness will receive the red cap!"--"Oh! oh! that's a coarse color," replied the Bishop. "It is lucky that those who despise it in a cap revere it in a hat."

     在前面几页我们提到过一封信，在那信上所记日期过后不久的一个时期里，他又做了一件事，这件事情，在全城人的心目中，比上次他在那强人出没的山中旅行，更显得冒失。
    在迪涅附近的一个乡村里，住着一个与世隔绝的人。那人曾经当过??让我们立即说出他那刺耳的名称：国民公会①代表。他姓 G.。
①由人民大会选举产生的，国民公会成立于一七九二年九月二十一日。会议宣布法兰西共和国的成立，判处国王路易十六和王后玛丽?安东尼特极刑。
    
    在迪涅那种小天地里，大家一谈到国民公会的那位 G.代表，便有谈虎色变之感。一个国民公会代表，那还了得！那种东西是大家在以“你”和“公民”相称的年代里才有的。那个人几乎就是妖魔鬼怪。他虽然没有投票判处国王死刑，但是也差得不远。那是个类似弑君的人，暴虐蛮横，令人恐骇的。正统的王爷们回国②后，怎么会没有人把他告到特别法庭里去呢？不砍他的头，也未尝不可，是的，我们应当宽大；但是给他一个终身放逐，总是应当的吧？真是怪事！诸如此类的话。并且他和那些人一样，是个无神论者——这些全是鹅群诋毁群鹰的妄谈。
②一八一四年，拿破仑帝国被颠覆，王室复辟，路易十八回国称王。
    
    G.究竟是不是雄鹰呢？如果我们从他那孤独生活中所特有的蛮性上着眼，他的确是。由于他没有投票赞成处决国王，所以次次的放逐令上都没有他的名字，他也就还能留在法国。
    
    他的住处离城有三刻钟的路程，远离一切村落，远离一切道路，不知是在哪个荒山野谷、人迹不到的角落里。据说他在那里有一块地、一 个土洞、一个窝巢。没有邻居，甚至没有过路的行人。那条通向他那里去的小路，自从他住在那山谷里以后，也就隐没在荒草中了。大家提起他那住处，如同谈到刽子手的家。
    
    可是主教不能忘记，他不时朝着这位老代表的住处，有一丛树木标志着的山谷远远眺望，他还说：“那儿还有个孤独的灵魂。”内心中，他还说：“我迟早得去看他一次。”但老实说，那个念头在起初虽然显得自然，经过一番思考之后，他却又好象觉得它很奇怪，觉得这是做不到的，几乎是不能容忍的。因为实际上他也抱有一般人的观点，那位国民公会代表使他无端地产生一种近似仇恨的恶感，也就是“格格不入”这四个字最能表达的那种恶感。可是羔羊的癣疥应当使牧人却步吗？不。况且那又是怎样的一头羔羊！
    
    那位慈祥的主教为之犹豫不决。有时，他往那个方向走去，随即又转了回来。
    
    一天，有个在那窑洞里伺侯那位 G.代表的少年牧人来到城里找医生，说那老贼已经病到垂危之际，他得了瘫痪症，过不了夜。这话在城里传开了，许多人说：“谢天谢地。”主教立即拿起他的拐杖，披上他的外衣（因为，正如我们说过的，他的道袍太旧了，也因为晚风将起），径直走了。当他走到那无人齿及的地方，太阳正往西沉，几乎碰到了地平线。他的心怦怦跳动，他知道离那兽穴已经不远。他跨过一条沟，越过一道篱，打开栅门，走进一个荒芜的菜圃，非常大胆地赶上几步，到了那荒地的尽头，在一大堆荆棘丛的后面，他发现了那窝巢。
    
    那是一所极其低陋狭窄而又整洁的木屋，前面墙上钉着一行葡萄架。门前，一个白发老人坐在一张有小轮子的旧椅子（农民的围椅）里，正对着太阳微露笑意。
    在那坐着的老人身旁，立着个少年，就是那牧童。他正把一罐牛奶递给那老人。
    主教方自张望，那老人已高声说：
    
    “谢谢，我不再需要什么了。”同时，他把笑脸从太阳转向那孩子。
    主教往前走，那坐着的老人，听见他的脚步声转过头来，如闻空谷足音，脸上露出极端惊讶的神色。
    “自从我住到这儿以来，”他说，“这还是第一次有人上我的门。先生，您是谁？”
    
    主教回答：
    “我叫卞福汝?米里哀。”
    “卞福汝?米里哀！我听人说过这名字。难道老乡们称为卞福汝主教的就是您吗？”
     “就是我。”
    那老人面露微笑，接着说：
    “那么，您是我的主教了？”
    “有点儿象。”
    “请进，先生。”那位国民公会代表把手伸给主教，但是主教没和他握手，只说道：“我很高兴上了人家的当。看您的样子，您一点也没有玻”“先生，”那老人回答，“我会好的。”他停了一会，又说：“我过不了三个钟头，就要死了。”

    随后他又说：
    “我略通医道，我知道临终的情形是怎样的。昨天我还只感到脚冷；今天，冷到膝头了；现在我觉得已冷到了腰，等到冷到心头，我就停摆了。夕阳无限好，不是吗？我叫人把我推到外面来，为的是要对这一切景物，作最后一次眺望。您可以和我谈话，我一点也不会累。您赶来看一个快死的人，这非常好。这种时刻，能有一两个人在场，确是难得。妄想人人都有，我则希望能拖到黎明。但是我知道，我只有不到三个钟头的时间了。到那时，天已经黑了。其实，有什么关系！死是一件简单的事。并不一定要在早晨。就这样吧。我将披星戴月而去。”
  
    老人转向那牧童说：
    “你，你去睡吧。你昨晚已经守了一夜。你累了。”那孩子回到木屋里去了。
    老人目送着他，仿佛正对自己说：
    
    “他入睡，我长眠。同是梦中人，正好作伴。”主教象是受到感动，其实却不然。他不认为这样死去的人可以悟到上帝。让我们彻底说清楚，因为宽大胸怀中所含的细微矛盾也一样是该指出来的。平时遇到这种事，如果有人称他为“主教大人”，他认为不值一笑，可是现在没人称他为“我的主教”，却又觉得有些唐突了他，并且差点想反过来称这位老人为“公民”了。他在反感中突然涌起了一 种想对人亲切的心情，那种心情在医生和神甫中是屡见不鲜的，在他说来却是绝无仅有的。无论如何，这个人，这个国民公会代表，这位人民喉舌，总当过一时的人中怪杰，主教觉得自己的心情忽然严峻起来，这在他一生中也许还是头一回。
    
    那位国民公会代表却用一种谦虚诚挚的态度觑着他，从这里我们可以看出，其中含有那种行将物化的人的卑怯神情。而主教呢，他平素虽然约束自己，不起窥测别人隐情的心思，因为在他看来，蓄意窥测旁人隐情，即同对人存心侵犯差不多，可是对这位国民公会代表，却不能不细心加以研究；这种不是由同情心出发的动机，如果去对待另一个人，他也许会受到自己良心的谴责。但是一个国民公会代表，在他的思想上多少有些法外人的意味，甚至就连慈悲的法律也是不予保护的。
    
    G.，这位八十岁的魁梧老叟，态度镇定，躯干几乎直挺，声音宏亮，足以使生理学家叹为观止。革命时期有过许多那样的人物，都和那时代相称。从这个老人身上，我们可以想见那种经历过千锤百炼的人。离死不远，他还康健如故。他那明炯的目光、坚定的语气、两肩强健的动作，都足以使死神望而却步。伊斯兰教中的接引天使阿慈拉伊尔①也会望而生畏，以为走错了门呢。G.的样子好象离死不远，那只是因为他自己愿意那样的缘故罢了。他在临终时却仍能自主，只是两条腿僵了，他只有那一部分被幽魂扼制住了。两只脚死了，也凉了，头脑却还活着，还保存着生命的全部活力，并且好象还处在精神焕发的时光。G.在这一严重的时刻，正和东方神话中的那个国王相似，上半部是肉身，下半部是石躯。他旁边有块石头。主教便在那上面坐下。他们突然开始了对话。
①阿慈拉伊尔（Azrael），伊斯兰教四大天使之一，专司死亡事宜。
    
    “我祝贺您，”他用谴责的语气说，“您总算没有投票赞成判处国王死刑。”国民公会代表好象没有注意到“总算”那两个字所含的尖刻意味。
    他开始回答，脸上的笑容全消隐了：
    “别祝贺得过头了，先生。我曾投票表决过暴君的末日。”那种刚强的语调是针对着严肃的口吻而发出的。
    “您这话怎讲？”
    
    “我的意思是说，人类有一个暴君，那就是蒙昧。我投票表决了这个暴君的末日。王权就是从那暴君处产生的，王权是一种伪造的权力，只有知识才是真正的权力。人类只应接受知识的统治。”“那么，良心呢？”主教接着说。
    “那是同一回事。良心，是存在于我们心中与生俱有的那么一点知识。”
    
    那种观点对卞福汝主教来说是极为新奇的，他听了不免有些诧异。国民公会代表继续说：“关于路易十六的事，我没有赞同。我不认为我有处死一个人的权利；但是我觉得我有消灭那种恶势力的义务。我表决了那暴君的末日，这就是说，替妇女消除了卖身制度，替男子消除了奴役制度，替幼童消除了不幸生活。我在投票赞成共和制度时也就赞成了那一切。我赞助了博爱、协和、曙光！我出力打破了邪说和谬见。邪说和谬见的崩溃造成了光明。我们这些人推翻了旧世界，旧世界就好象一个苦难的瓶，一旦翻倒在人类的头上，就成了一把欢乐的壶。”
    
    “光怪陆离的欢乐。”主教说。
    “您不妨说是多灾多难的欢乐，如今，自从那次倒霉的所谓一八一 四年的倒退以后，也就可称作是昙花一现的欢乐了。可惜！那次的事业是不全面的，我承认；我们在现实领域中摧毁了旧的制度，在思想领域中却没能把它彻底铲除。消灭恶习是不够的，还必须转移风气。风车已经不存在了，风却还存在。”“您做了的摧毁工作。摧毁可能是有益的。可是对夹有怒气的摧毁行为，我却不敢恭维。”
    
    “正义是会有愤怒的，主教先生，并且正义的愤怒是一种进步的因素。没关系，无论世人怎样说，法兰西革命是从基督诞生以来人类向前走得最有力的一步。不全面，当然对，但它是多么卓绝。它揭开了社会上的一切黑幕。它涤荡了人们的积习陋气，它起了安定、镇静、开化的作用，它曾使文化的洪流漫卷世界。它是仁慈的。法兰西革命是人类至高无上的光荣。”主教不禁嗫嚅：“是吗？九三①！”国民公会代表直从他的椅子上竖立起来，容貌严峻，几乎是悲壮的，尽他临终前的全身气力，大声喊着说：“呀！对！九三！这个字我等了许久了。
①一七九三年的简称，是革命进入高潮、处死国王路易十六的那年。

    满天乌云密布了一千五百年。过了十五个世纪之后，乌云散了，而您却要加罪于雷霆。”那位主教，嘴里虽不一定肯承认，却感到心里有什么东西被他击中了。不过他仍然不动声色。他回答：“法官说话为法律，神甫说话为慈悲，慈悲也不过是一种比较高级的法律而已。雷霆的一击总不应弄错目标吧。”他又聚精会神觑着那位国民公会代表，加上一句：“路易十七②呢？”国民公会代表伸出手来，把住主教的胳膊：“路易十七！哈。您在替谁流泪？替那无辜的孩子吗？那么，好吧。我愿和您同声一哭。替那年幼的王子吗？我却还得要考虑考虑。在我看来，路易十五的孙子③是个无辜的孩子，他唯一的罪名是做了路易十五的孙子，以致在大庙殉难；卡图什④的兄弟同样是一个无辜的孩子，他唯一 的罪名是做了卡图什的兄弟，以致被人捆住胸脯，吊在格雷沃广场，直到气绝，难道那孩子就死得不惨？”
②路易十七是路易十六的儿子，十岁时（1795）死在狱中。③指路易十七。
④卡图什（Cartouche，1693—1721），人民武装起义领袖，一七二一年被捕，被判处死刑。

     “先生，”主教说，“我不喜欢把这两个名字联在一起。”“卡图什吗？路易十五吗？您究竟在替这两个中的哪一个鸣冤叫屈呢？”
一时相对无言。主教几乎后悔多此一行，但是他觉得自己隐隐地、异常地被他动摇了。
    
    国民公会代表又说：“咳！主教先生，您不爱真理的辛辣味儿。而从前基督却不象您这样。他拿条拐杖，清除了圣殿。他那条电光四射的鞭子简直就是真理的一个无所顾忌的发言人。当他喊道‘让小孩子到我这里来！’①时，他对于那些孩子，并没有厚此薄彼之意。他对巴拉巴②的长子和希律③的储君能同眼看待而无动于衷。先生，天真本身就是王冕。天真不必有所作为也同样是高尚的。它无论是穿着破衣烂衫或贵为公子王孙，都是同样尊贵的。”
①“让小孩子到我这里来”，这是耶稣对那些不许孩子听道的教徒说的话。原文是拉丁文 Si-niteparvulos。（见《圣经?马太福音》第十九章）
②巴拉巴（Barabbas）是和耶稣同时判罪的犯人。
③希律（Herode），纪元前犹太国王。
    
    “那倒是真话。”主教轻轻地说。
    “我要坚持下去，”国民公会代表 G.继续说，“您对我提到过路易十七。让我们在这个问题上面取得一致的看法。我们是不是为一切在上层和在下层的无辜受害者、殉难者、孩子们同声而哭呢？我会和您一道哭的。不过，我已对您说过，我们必须追溯到九三年之前。我们的眼泪应当从九三年之前流起。我一定和您同哭王室的孩子，如果您也和我同哭平民的幼童的话。”
    
    “我为他们全体哭。”主教说。
    “同等分量吗？”G.大声说，“这天平如果倾斜，也该是偏向平民一边吧。平民受苦的年代更长久。”
    又是一阵沉寂。打破沉寂的还是那位国民公会代表。他抬起身子，倚在一只手肘上，用他的拇指和曲着的食指微捏着腮，正如我们在盘问和审讯时无意中作出的那样，他向主教提出质问，目光中蓄满了临终时的全部气力。那几乎是一场爆炸。
    
    “是呀，先生，平民受苦的日子够长的了。不但如此，您走来找我，问这问那，和我谈到路易十七，目的又何在？我并不认识您呀。自从我住在这儿，孤零零的我在这围墙里过活，两只脚从不出门，除了那个帮我的少年之外谁也不见面。的确，我的耳朵也偶尔听到过您的名字，我还应当说，您的名声并不太坏，但是那并不能说明什么问题，聪明人自有各种花招来欺哄一个忠厚老实的平民。说也奇怪，我刚才没有听到您车子的声音，也许您把它留在岔路口那面的树丛后了吧。我并不认识您，您听见了吧。

    您刚才说您是主教，但是这话一点也不能对我说明您的人格究竟如何。我只得重复我的问题。您是谁？您是一个主教，那就是说一个教门里的王爷，那些装了金，穿着铠甲，吃利息，坐享大宗教款的人中的一个——迪涅的主教，一万五千法郎的正式年俸，一万法郎的特别费，合计二万五千法郎——，有厨子，有随从，有佳肴美酒，星期五 吃火鸡，仆役侍前顾后，高视阔步，坐华贵的轿式马车，住高楼大厦，捧着跣足徒步的耶稣基督做幌子，高车驷马，招摇过市，主教便是这一 类人中的一个。您是一位高级主教，年俸、宫室、骏马、侍从、筵席、人生的享乐，应有尽有，您和那些人相同，也有这些东西，您也和他们一样，享乐受用，很好，不过事情已经很清楚了，但也可能还不够清楚；您来到这里，也许曾发了宏愿，想用圣教来劝导我，但是您并没有教我认清您自身的真正品质。我究竟是在和什么人谈话？您是谁？”
    
    主教低下头，回答：“我是一条蛆。”①“好一条坐轿车的蛆！”国民公会代表咬牙说道。这一下，轮到国民公会代表逞强，主教低声下气了。主教和颜悦色，接着说：“先生，就算是吧。但要请您替我解释解释：我那辆停在树丛后面不远的轿车，我的筵席和我在星期五吃的火鸡，我的二万五千法郎的年俸，我的宫室和我的侍从，那些东西究竟怎样才能证明，慈悲不是一种美德，宽厚不是一种做人应尽之道，九三年不是伤天害理的呢？”
①这一句原文为拉丁文“Vermissum”。
    
    国民公会代表把一只手举上额头，就仿佛要拨开一层云雾。“在回 答您的话之前，”他说，“我要请您原谅。我刚才失礼了，先生。您是在我家里，您是我的客人。我应该以礼相待。您讨论到我的思想，我只应当批驳您的论点就行了。您的富贵和您的享乐，在辩论当中，我固然可以用来作为反击您的有力武器，但毕竟有伤忠厚，还不如弃之不用。我一定不再提那些事了。”
    
    “我对您很感谢。”主教说。 G，接着说：“让我们回到您刚才向我要求解释的方面去吧。我们刚才谈到什么地方了？您刚才说的是??您说九三年伤天害理吗？”
    “伤天害理，是的，”主教说，“您对马拉①朝着断头台鼓掌怎样看？”
①马拉（Marat，1743—1793），法国政论家，雅各宾派领袖之一，罗伯斯庇尔的忠实战友，群众称他为“人民之友”。
    
    “您对博须埃②在残害新教徒时高唱圣诗，又怎样想呢？”那回答是针锋相对的，锐如利剑。主教为之一惊，他绝想不出一句回驳的话，但是那样提到博须埃，总使他感到不大痛快。再高明的人也有他们的偶像，有时还会由于别人不尊重逻辑而隐痛在心。
②博须埃（Bossuet，1627—1704），法国天主教的护卫者，是最有声望的主教之一。
    
    国民公会代表开始喘气了，他本来已是气力不济，加以临终时呼吸阻塞，说话的声音便成了断断续续的了，可是他的眼睛表现出他的神志还是完全清醒的。
    他继续说：
  
     “我很乐意让我们再随便谈几句。那次革命，总的说来，是获得了人类的广泛赞扬的，只可惜九三年成了一种口实。您认为那是伤天害理的一年，但就整个专制政体来讲呢，先生？卡里埃③是个匪徒；但是您又怎样称呼蒙特维尔①呢？
③卡里埃（Carrier，1756—1794），国民公会代表，一七九四年被处死刑。
①蒙特维尔（Montrevel），十七世纪末法国朗格多克地区新教徒的迫害者。

    富基埃—泰维尔②是个无赖；但是您对拉莫尼翁—巴维尔③有什么看法呢？马亚尔④罪大恶极，但请问素尔—达瓦纳⑤呢，杜善伯伯⑥横蛮凶狠，但对勒泰利埃神甫⑦，您又怎样评价呢？茹尔丹屠夫⑧是个魔怪，但却还比不上卢夫瓦⑨侯爷。
②富基埃—泰维尔（Fouguier—Tinville），法国十八世纪末革命法庭的起诉人，恐怖时期尤为有名，后被处死。
③拉莫尼翁—巴维尔（Lamoignon-Baville，1648—1724），法国朗格多克地区总督，一六八五年血腥镇压新教徒。
④马亚尔（StanislasMaillard），以执行一七九二年九月的大屠杀而臭名昭著。
⑤索尔—达瓦纳（Saulx-Tavannes），达瓦纳的贵族，一五七二年巴托罗缪屠杀案的主谋之一。
⑥杜善伯伯（lepereDuchene），原是笑剧中一个普通人的形象，后来成了平民的通称。
⑦勒泰利埃神甫（lepereLetellier，1643—1719），耶稣会教士，路易十四的忏悔神甫，曾使路易十四毁坏王家港。
⑧马蒂厄?儒弗（MathieuJouve，1749—1794），一七九一年法国阿维尼翁大屠杀的主犯，后获得屠夫菇尔丹的称号。
⑨卢夫瓦（Louvois，1641—1691），路易十四的军事大臣，曾攻占巴拉丁那（今西德法尔茨）。

    先生呀先生，我为大公主和王后玛丽?安东尼特叫屈，但是我也为那个信仰新教的穷妇人叫屈，先生，那穷妇人在一六八五年大路易当国的时候，正在给她孩子喂奶，却被人家捆在一个木桩上，上身一丝不挂，孩子被丢在一边；她乳中充满乳汁，心中充满怆痛；那孩子饥饿不堪，脸色惨白，瞧着母亲的乳，有气无力地哭个不停；刽子手却对那做母亲和乳娘的妇人说：‘改邪归正！’要她在她孩子的死亡和她信的死亡中选择一种，教一个做母亲的人受那种眼睁睁的生离死别的苦痛，您觉得还有什么可说吗？先生，请记住这一点，法国革命自有它的理论根据。它的愤怒在未来的岁月中是会被人谅解的。它的成果便是一个改变了的世界。从它的非常猛烈的鞭挞中，产生出了一种对人类的爱抚。我得少说话，我不再开口了，我的理由太充足。况且我就要咽气了。”
    
    随后这位国民公会代表的眼睛不再望向主教，他只用这样几句话来结束了他的思想：“是呀，进步的暴力便叫做革命。暴力过去以后，人们就认识到这一点：人类受到了斥责，然而却前进了。”
    
    国民公会代表未尝不知道，刚才他已把主教心中的堡垒接二连三地夺过来了，可是还留下一处，那一处是卞福汝主教防卫力量的最后源泉，卞福汝主教说了这样一句话，几乎把舌战开始时的激烈态度又全流露出来了：“进步应当信仰上帝。善不能由背弃宗教的人来体现，无神论者是人类恶劣的带路人。”那个年迈的人民代表没有回答。他颤抖了一阵，望着天，眼睛里慢慢泌出一框眼泪，眶满以后，那眼泪便顺着他青灰色的面颊淌了下来，他低微地对自己说，几乎语不成声，目光迷失在穹苍里：“呵你！呵理想的境界！唯有你是存在的！”主教受到一种难以言喻的感动。一阵沉寂之后，那老人翘起一个指头，指着天说：“无极是存在的。
    
    它就在那里。如果无极之中没有我，我就是它的止境；它也就不成其为无极了；换句话说，它就是不存在的了。因此它必然有一个我。无极中的这个我，便是上帝。”那垂死的人说了最后几句话，声音清朗，还带着灵魂离开肉体时那种至乐的颤动，好象他望见了一个什么人一般。语声停了后，他的眼睛也闭上了。一时的兴奋已使他精力涸竭。剩下的几个钟头，他明显已在顷刻之间耗尽了。他刚才说的那几句话已使他接近了那位生死的主宰。最后关头到了。
    
    主教懂得，时间紧迫，他原是以神甫身份来到此地的，他从极端的冷淡一步步地踏入了极端的冲动，他望着那双闭了的眼睛，他抓住那只枯皱冰冷的手，弯腰向那临终者说：“这个时刻是上帝的时刻了。如果我们只这样相聚，您不感到遗憾吗？”
国民公会代表眼睛重睁。眉宇间呈现出一种严肃而阴郁的神情。
    
    “主教先生，”他说，说得极慢，那不仅是因为气力不济，多半还因为他心灵的高傲，“我在深思力学和观察之中度过了这一生。我六十 岁的时候祖国号召我去治理国家事务。我服从了。当时有许多积弊，我进行了斗争；有暴政，我消除了暴政；有人权和法则，我都公布了，也作了宣传。国土被侵犯，我保卫了国土；法兰西受到威胁，我献出我的热血。我从前并不富裕，现在也没钱。我曾是政府领导人之一，当时在国库的地窖里堆满了现金，墙头受不住金银的压力，随时都会坍塌，以致非用柱来支撑不可，我却在枯树街吃二十二个苏一顿的饭。我帮助了受压迫的人，医治了人们的痛苦。我撕毁了祭坛上的布毯，那是真的，不过是为了裹祖国的创伤。我始终维护人类走向光明的步伐，有时也反抗过那种无情的进步。有机会，我也保护过我自己的对手，就是说，你们这些人。

    在佛兰德的比特罕地方，正在墨洛温王朝①夏宫的旧址上，有一座乌尔班派的寺院，就是波里尔的圣克雷修道院，那就是我在一七九 三年救出来的。我尽了我力所能及的职责，我行了我所能行的善事。此后我却被人驱逐，搜捕，通缉，迫害，诬蔑，讥诮，侮辱，诅骂，剥夺了公民权。多年以来，我白发苍苍，只感到有许多人自以为有权轻视我，那些愚昧可怜的群众认为我面目可憎。我并不恨人，却乐于避开别人的恨。现在，我八十六岁了，快死了。您还来问我什么呢？”
①墨洛温（Merovee），法国第一个王朝，从五世纪中叶到八世纪中叶。
  
     “我来为您祝福。”主教说。
    他跪了下来。等到主教抬起头来，那个国民公会代表已经面带庄严的神色，气绝而亡。
    主教回到家中，深深沉浸在一种难以名状的思绪里。他整整祈祷了一夜。第二天，几个胆大好奇的人，费尽心机要引他谈论那个 G.代表，他却只指了指天。从此以后，他对小孩和有痛苦的人更加仁慈亲切。
    
    任何言词，只要影射到“G.老贼”，他就一定会陷入一种异样不安的状态中。谁也不能说，那样一颗心在他自己心前的昭示，那伟大的良心在他意识上所起的反应，对他日趋完善的精神会毫无影响。
    那次的“乡村访问”当然会给本地的那些小集团提供饶舌的机会：“那种死人的病榻前面也能成为主教涉足的地方吗？明明没有什么可以感化的指望。那些革命党人全是屡教不改，违反圣教的。那，又何必到那里去呢？那里有什么可看的呢？真是好奇，魔鬼接收灵魂，他也要去看看。”

    一天有个阔寡妇，即那些自作聪明的冒失鬼中的一个，问了他这样一句俏皮话：“我的主教，有人要打听，大人您在什么时候能得到一顶红帽子①。”“呵！呵！多么高贵的颜色，”主教回答，“幸亏鄙视红帽子的人也还崇拜红法冠呢。”
①戴红帽子，为参加革命的意思。

     We should incur a great risk of deceiving ourselves, were we to conclude from this that Monseigneur Welcome was "a philosophical bishop," or a "patriotic cure."His meeting, which may almost be designated as his union, with conventionary G----, left behind it in his mind a sort of astonishment, which rendered him still more gentle. That is all.

    Although Monseigneur Bienvenu was far from being a politician, this is, perhaps, the place to indicate very briefly what his attitude was in the events of that epoch, supposing that Monseigneur Bienvenu ever dreamed of having an attitude.
    Let us, then, go back a few years.

    Some time after the elevation of M. Myriel to the episcopate, the Emperor had made him a baron of the Empire, in company with many other bishops.The arrest of the pope took place, as every one knows, on the night of the 5th to the 6th of July, 1809; on this occasion, M. Myriel was summoned by Napoleon to the synod of the bishops of France and Italy convened at paris.This synod was held at Notre-Dame, and assembled for the first time on the 15th of June, 1811, under the presidency of Cardinal Fesch.M. Myriel was one of the ninety-five bishops who attended it.

    But he was present only at one sitting and at three or four private conferences. Bishop of a mountain diocese, living so very close to nature, in rusticity and deprivation, it appeared that he imported among these eminent personages, ideas which altered the temperature of the assembly.He very soon returned to D---- He was interrogated as to this speedy return, and he replied:"I embarrassed them. The outside air penetrated to them through me.I produced on them the effect of an open door."

    On another occasion he said, "What would you have?Those gentlemen are princes.I am only a poor peasant bishop."
    The fact is that he displeased them.Among other strange things, it is said that he chanced to remark one evening, when he found himself at the house of one of his most notable colleagues:"What beautiful clocks!What beautiful carpets!What beautiful liveries! They must be a great trouble.I would not have all those superfluities, crying incessantly in my ears:`There are people who are hungry! There are people who are cold!There are poor people!There are poor people!'"

    Let us remark, by the way, that the hatred of luxury is not an intelligent hatred.This hatred would involve the hatred of the arts.Nevertheless, in churchmen, luxury is wrong, except in connection with representations and ceremonies.It seems to reveal habits which have very little that is charitable about them. An opulent priest is a contradiction.The priest must keep close to the poor.Now, can one come in contact incessantly night and day with all this distress, all these misfortunes, and this poverty, without having about one's own person a little of that misery, like the dust of labor?Is it possible to imagine a man near a brazier who is not warm?Can one imagine a workman who is working near a furnace, and who has neither a singed hair, nor blackened nails, nor a drop of sweat, nor a speck of ashes on his face?The first proof of charity in the priest, in the bishop especially, is poverty.

    This is, no doubt, what the Bishop of D---- thought.
    It must not be supposed, however, that he shared what we call the "ideas of the century" on certain delicate points.He took very little part in the theological quarrels of the moment, and maintained silence on questions in which Church and State were implicated; but if he had been strongly pressed, it seems that he would have been found to be an ultramontane rather than a gallican.Since we are making a portrait, and since we do not wish to conceal anything, we are forced to add that he was glacial towards Napoleon in his decline. Beginning with 1813, he gave in his adherence to or applauded all hostile manifestations.He refused to see him, as he passed through on his return from the island of Elba, and he abstained from ordering public prayers for the Emperor in his diocese during the Hundred Days.

    Besides his sister, Mademoiselle Baptistine, he had two brothers, one a general, the other a prefect.He wrote to both with tolerable frequency.He was harsh for a time towards the former, because, holding a command in provence at the epoch of the disembarkation at Cannes, the general had put himself at the head of twelve hundred men and had pursued the Emperor as though the latter had been a person whom one is desirous of allowing to escape.His correspondence with the other brother, the ex-prefect, a fine, worthy man who lived in retirement at paris, Rue Cassette, remained more affectionate.

    Thus Monseigneur Bienvenu also had his hour of party spirit, his hour of bitterness, his cloud.The shadow of the passions of the moment traversed this grand and gentle spirit occupied with eternal things. Certainly, such a man would have done well not to entertain any political opinions.Let there be no mistake as to our meaning: we are not confounding what is called "political opinions" with the grand aspiration for progress, with the sublime faith, patriotic, democratic, humane, which in our day should be the very foundation of every generous intellect.Without going deeply into questions which are only indirectly connected with the subject of this book, we will simply say this:It would have been well if Monseigneur Bienvenu had not been a Royalist, and if his glance had never been, for a single instant, turned away from that serene contemplation in which is distinctly discernible, above the fictions and the hatreds of this world, above the stormy vicissitudes of human things, the beaming of those three pure radiances, truth, justice, and charity.

    While admitting that it was not for a political office that God created Monseigneur Welcome, we should have understood and admired his protest in the name of right and liberty, his proud opposition, his just but perilous resistance to the all-powerful Napoleon. But that which pleases us in people who are rising pleases us less in the case of people who are falling.We only love the fray so long as there is danger, and in any case, the combatants of the first hour have alone the right to be the exterminators of the last.He who has not been a stubborn accuser in prosperity should hold his peace in the face of ruin.The denunciator of success is the only legitimate executioner of the fall. As for us, when providence intervenes and strikes, we let it work. 1812 commenced to disarm us.In 1813 the cowardly breach of silence of that taciturn legislative body, emboldened by catastrophe, possessed only traits which aroused indignation.And it was a crime to applaud, in 1814, in the presence of those marshals who betrayed; in the presence of that senate which passed from one dunghill to another, insulting after having deified; in the presence of that idolatry which was loosing its footing and spitting on its idol,-- it was a duty to turn aside the head.In 1815, when the supreme disasters filled the air, when France was seized with a shiver at their sinister approach, when Waterloo could be dimly discerned opening before Napoleon, the mournful acclamation of the army and the people to the condemned of destiny had nothing laughable in it, and, after making all allowance for the despot, a heart like that of the Bishop of D----, ought not perhaps to have failed to recognize the august and touching features presented by the embrace of a great nation and a great man on the brink of the abyss.

    With this exception, he was in all things just, true, equitable, intelligent, humble and dignified, beneficent and kindly, which is only another sort of benevolence.He was a priest, a sage, and a man.It must be admitted, that even in the political views with which we have just reproached him, and which we are disposed to judge almost with severity, he was tolerant and easy, more so, perhaps, than we who are speaking here.The porter of the town-hall had been placed there by the Emperor.He was an old non-commissioned officer of the old guard, a member of the Legion of Honor at Austerlitz, as much of a Bonapartist as the eagle. This poor fellow occasionally let slip inconsiderate remarks, which the law then stigmatized as seditious speeches.After the imperial profile disappeared from the Legion of Honor, he never dressed himself in his regimentals, as he said, so that he should not be obliged to wear his cross.He had himself devoutly removed the imperial effigy from the cross which Napoleon had given him; this made a hole, and he would not put anything in its place. "I will die," he said, "rather than wear the three frogs upon my heart!"He liked to scoff aloud at Louis XVIII."The gouty old creature in English gaiters!" he said; "let him take himself off to prussia with that queue of his."He was happy to combine in the same imprecation the two things which he most detested, prussia and England.He did it so often that he lost his place. There he was, turned out of the house, with his wife and children, and without bread.The Bishop sent for him, reproved him gently, and appointed him beadle in the cathedral.

    In the course of nine years Monseigneur Bienvenu had, by dint of holy deeds and gentle manners, filled the town of D---- with a sort of tender and filial reverence.Even his conduct towards Napoleon had been accepted and tacitly pardoned, as it were, by the people, the good and weakly flock who adored their emperor, but loved their bishop.

     如果我们仅凭以上所述作出结论，便认为卞福汝主教是个“有哲学头脑的主教”或是个“爱国的神甫”，我们就很可能犯错误。他和国民公会 G.代表的邂逅——几乎可以说是他们的结合，只不过给他留下了一 种使他变得更加温良的惊叹的回忆。如此而已。卞福汝主教虽然是个政治中人，我们也许还该在这里很简略地谈谈他对当代的国家大事所抱的态度，假定卞福汝主教也曾想过要抱一种态度的话。
    
     让我们把几年前的一些事回顾一下。米里哀先生升任主教不久，皇上便封了他为帝国的男爵，同时也封了好几个别的主教。我们知道，教皇是在一八○九年七月五日至六日的夜晚被拘禁的，因为此事，米里哀先生被拿破仑召到巴黎去参加法兰西和意大利的主教会议。一八一一年六月十五日，在红衣主教斐许主持下，召开了第一次会议。那次会议是在圣母院开的。九十五个主教参加了会议，米里哀先生是其中之一。但是他只参加过一次大会和三四次特别会议。他是一个山区的主教，平时过着僻陋贫困的生活，和自然环境接近惯了，他觉得他给那些达官贵人带来了一种改变会场气氛的见解。他匆匆忙忙地回到迪涅去了。有人问他为什么回去得那样仓促，他回答：“他们见了我不顺眼。外面的空气老跟着我跑到他们那儿去。我在他们的眼里就好象是一扇带不上的门。”
    
     另一次，他还说：
    “有啥办法？那些先生们全是王子王孙。而我呢，只是一个干瘪瘪的乡下主教。”
    
     他不时作怪，确是惹人嫌，有一晚，他在一个很有地位的同行家里，说出了这些话，也许是脱口而出的：“这许多漂亮的挂钟！这许多漂亮的地毯！这许多漂亮的服装！这些东西好不麻烦！我真不愿意听这些累赘的东西时常在我的耳边喊‘许多人还在挨饿呢！许多人还在挨冻呢！穷人多着呢！穷人多着呢！’”我们顺便提提，对华贵物品的仇恨也许是不聪明的，因为这种仇恨隐藏着对艺术的敌意。不过，对教会中的人而言，除了表示身份和举行仪式之外，使用华贵物品是错误的。

     那些东西仿佛能揭露那种并非真心真意解囊救贫的品行。教士养尊处优，就是离经叛道。教士应该接近穷人。一个人既然日日夜夜和一切灾难、苦痛、贫困相接触，难道在他自己身上竟能够不象在劳动中沾上一些尘土那样，一点也不带那种圣洁的清寒味吗？我们能想象一个人站在烈火旁而不感到热吗？我们能想象一 个工人经常在熔炉旁工作，而能没有一根头发被烧掉，没有一个手指被熏黑，脸上没有一滴汗珠，也没有一丁点儿灰屑吗？教士，尤其是主教，他的仁慈最起码的保证，便是清苦。这一定就是迪涅主教先生的见解了。
    
     我们还不应该认为他在某些棘手问题上，会愿意去迎合那种所谓的“时代的思潮”。他很少参加当时的神学争辩，对政教的纠纷问题，他也不发表意见；但是，如果有人向他紧紧追问，他就好象是偏向罗马派方面而并不属于法国派①。我们既然是在描写一个人，并且不愿有所避讳。我们就该补充说明，他对那位气势渐哀的拿破仑，可以说是冷漠的。一八一三年②以后，他曾经参与，或鼓掌赞同过各种反抗活动。拿破仑从厄尔巴岛③回来时，他拒绝到路旁去欢迎他，“在百日帝政”④期间，也不曾替皇上布置公祭。
①从一六八二年起，法国天主教以国内教士代表会议为处理宗教事务的最高权力机关，不完全接受罗马教皇的命令，为法国派（gallican），主张完全依附教皇的称罗马派（ultramontain）。直到一八七 0年，法国天主教才完全依附于罗马教皇。
②一八一三年，拿破仑政权已濒于崩溃，英、俄筹七国联军进逼，国内工商业发生危机，由于缺乏劳动力，增加税收，大量征兵，资产阶级开始动摇，人民纷纷逃避兵役，老贵族也乘机阴谋恢复复旧王朝。
③拿破仑在一八一四年四月六日被迫退位后，即被送往厄尔巴岛。王朝复辟，执行反动政策，人民普遍不满。拿破仑乘机于一八一五年三月一日在南方港口茹安（在戛纳附近）登陆，进入巴黎。
④拿破仑三月一日在茹安登陆，六月二十二日第二次退位，那一时期叫“百日帝政”。
    
     除了他的妹妹巴狄斯丁姑娘以外，他还有两个亲兄弟，一个当过将军，一个当过省长。他和他们通信频繁。有个时期，他对于第一个兄弟很冷淡，因为那个兄弟原来镇守普罗旺斯。戛纳登陆时那位将军统率一 千二百人去截击皇上，却又有意放他走过。另外那个兄弟，当过省长，为人忠厚自持，隐居在巴黎卡塞特街，他给这个兄弟的信就有比较多的手足之情。
    
     由此可见，卞福汝主教也偶尔有过他的政见、他的苦闷、他的隐情。当年爱憎的暗影也曾穿过他那颗温和宽厚、追求永恒事物的心。当然，象他那样的人最好是不带政治见解。请不要把我们的意思歪曲了，我们所说的“政治见解”并非是指那种对进步所抱的热望，也不是指我们今天构成各方面真诚团结的内在力量的那种卓越的爱国主义、民主主义和人道主义思想，这些不能混为一谈。我们不必深究那些只间接涉及本书的内容的问题，我们只简单地说，假使卞福汝不是保王党，假使他的目光从来一刻也未离开过他那种宁静的信仰，并能超然于人世的风云变幻之外，能在信仰中看清真理、公正、慈善等三道纯洁光辉的放射，那就更加美满了。
    
     尽管我们承认上帝之所以创造卞福汝主教，绝不是为了一种政治作用，也仍然能够了解和钦佩他为人权和自由所提出的抗议，即他对那位不可一世的拿破仑所抱的高傲的对立态度和公正而危险的抗拒行为。但藐视一个失势的人究竟不如藐视一个得势的人那样使人快意。我们只爱具有危险性的斗争，在任何情况下，只有最初参加斗争的战士才有最后歼灭敌人的权利。谁不曾在全盛时期作过顽强的抗议，等到垮台之时，谁就不该拥有发言权。只有控诉过胜利的人才有权裁判失败。至于我们，在上天不佑、降以大祸时，我们只能听之任之。一八一二年开始解除我们的武装。一八一三年，那个素来缄默不语的立法机构，在国难临头时居然勇气焕发，大放厥词，这样只能令人齿冷，何足鼓掌称快？

     一八一 四年，元帅们出卖祖国，上院从一个污池掉进另一个污池，始则尊为神人，继乃横加侮渎，从来都崇拜偶像，忽又中途变节，反唾其脸，这些事理应引起我们的反感；一八一五年，最后的灾难步步进逼了，法兰西因大祸临头而危险了，滑铁卢似乎也展开在拿破仑眼前隐约可辨了；那时，军士和人民对那个祚运已尽的人的壮烈欢呼绝无什么令人发叹的，并且，先不论那个专制魔王是个怎样的人，值此千钧一发之际，这伟大的民族和这伟大的人杰间的紧密团结总还是庄严动人的，象迪涅主教那样一个人的心，好象不应该熟视无睹。
    
     除此而外，无论对什么事，他从来总是正直、诚实、公平、聪明、谦虚、持重的，好行善事，关心别人，这也是一种品德。他是一个神甫，一个贤达之士，也是一个伟丈夫。他的政治见解，我们刚才已经批评过了，我们也差不多还可以严厉地指责他，可是应当指出，他尽管抱有那种见解，和我们这些现在在此地谈话的人相比，也许还更加厚道，更加平易近人。市政府的那个门房，当初是皇上安派在那里的。他原是御林军里的一名下级军官，奥斯特里茨①战役勋章的获得者，一个象鹰那样精悍的拿破仑信徒。那个倒霉鬼会时常于随意中吐出一些牢骚话，那是被当时的法律视为“叛逆言论”的。自从勋章上的皇帝侧面像被取消之后，为了避免佩带他那十字勋章，他的衣着就从此不再“遵照规定”（照他的说法）。
①奥斯特里茨（Austerlitz），在捷克境内，一八 0五年，拿破仑在此战胜奥、俄联军。
    
     他亲自把皇上的御影从拿破仑给他的那个十字勋章上虔诚地摘下来，那样就留下了一个洞，他却绝不愿以其他的饰物来代替。他常说：“我宁死也不愿在我的胸前挂上三个癞蛤蟆！”他故意大声挖苦路易十八②。他又常说：“扎英国绑腿的烂脚鬼！快带着他的辫子到普鲁士去吧！”他以能够那样把他最恨的两个东西，即普鲁士和英格兰，连缀在一句骂人的话里而感到得意洋洋。他骂得太起劲了，以致丢了差事。他带着妻子儿女，无衣无食，流落街头。主教却把他招来，轻微责备了几句，派他去当了天主堂里的持戟士。
②路易十八是路易十六的兄弟，拿破仑失败后，他在英普联军护送下回到巴黎，恢复了波旁王室的统治。
    
     米里哀先生在他的教区里是一个名副其实的神甫，是公众的朋友。
    由于他行为圣洁，作风和蔼，九年以来，卞福汝主教使迪涅城里充满一种柔顺的推崇。连他对拿破仑的态度也被人民接受，默默宽宥了，人民原     本是一群善良柔弱的牛羊，他们崇拜他们的皇上，同时也爱戴他们的主教。

     A bishop is almost always surrounded by a full squadron of little abbes, just as a general is by a covey of young officers. This is what that charming Saint Francois de Sales calls somewhere "les pretres blancs-becs," callow priests.Every career has its aspirants, who form a train for those who have attained eminence in it. There is no power which has not its dependents.There is no fortune which has not its court.The seekers of the future eddy around the splendid present.Every metropolis has its staff of officials. Every bishop who possesses the least influence has about him his patrol of cherubim from the seminary, which goes the round, and maintains good order in the episcopal palace, and mounts guard over monseigneur's smile.To please a bishop is equivalent to getting one's foot in the stirrup for a sub-diaconate. It is necessary to walk one's path discreetly; the apostleship does not disdain the canonship.

    Just as there are bigwigs elsewhere, there are big mitres in the Church. These are the bishops who stand well at Court, who are rich, well endowed, skilful, accepted by the world, who know how to pray, no doubt, but who know also how to beg, who feel little scruple at making a whole diocese dance attendance in their person, who are connecting links between the sacristy and diplomacy, who are abbes rather than priests, prelates rather than bishops. Happy those who approach them!Being persons of influence, they create a shower about them, upon the assiduous and the favored, and upon all the young men who understand the art of pleasing, of large parishes, prebends, archidiaconates, chaplaincies, and cathedral posts, while awaiting episcopal honors.As they advance themselves, they cause their satellites to progress also; it is a whole solar system on the march.Their radiance casts a gleam of purple over their suite.Their prosperity is crumbled up behind the scenes, into nice little promotions.The larger the diocese of the patron, the fatter the curacy for the favorite.And then, there is Rome.A bishop who understands how to become an archbishop, an archbishop who knows how to become a cardinal, carries you with him as conclavist; you enter a court of papal jurisdiction, you receive the pallium, and behold! you are an auditor, then a papal chamberlain, then monsignor, and from a Grace to an Eminence is only a step, and between the Eminence and the Holiness there is but the smoke of a ballot.Every skull-cap may dream of the tiara. The priest is nowadays the only man who can become a king in a regular manner; and what a king! the supreme king.Then what a nursery of aspirations is a seminary!How many blushing choristers, how many youthful abbes bear on their heads perrette's pot of milk! Who knows how easy it is for ambition to call itself vocation? in good faith, perchance, and deceiving itself, devotee that it is.

    Monseigneur Bienvenu, poor, humble, retiring, was not accounted among the big mitres.This was plain from the complete absence of young priests about him.We have seen that he "did not take" in paris.Not a single future dreamed of engrafting itself on this solitary old man.Not a single sprouting ambition committed the folly of putting forth its foliage in his shadow.His canons and grand-vicars were good old men, rather vulgar like himself, walled up like him in this diocese, without exit to a cardinalship, and who resembled their bishop, with this difference, that they were finished and he was completed.The impossibility of growing great under Monseigneur Bienvenu was so well understood, that no sooner had the young men whom he ordained left the seminary than they got themselves recommended to the archbishops of Aix or of Auch, and went off in a great hurry.For, in short, we repeat it, men wish to be pushed.A saint who dwells in a paroxysm of abnegation is a dangerous neighbor; he might communicate to you, by contagion, an incurable poverty, an anchylosis of the joints, which are useful in advancement, and in short, more renunciation than you desire; and this infectious virtue is avoided.Hence the isolation of Monseigneur Bienvenu.We live in the midst of a gloomy society. Success; that is the lesson which falls drop by drop from the slope of corruption.

    Be it said in passing, that success is a very hideous thing.Its false resemblance to merit deceives men.For the masses, success has almost the same profile as supremacy.Success, that Menaechmus of talent, has one dupe,--history.Juvenal and Tacitus alone grumble at it. In our day, a philosophy which is almost official has entered into its service, wears the livery of success, and performs the service of its antechamber.Succeed:theory.prosperity argues capacity. Win in the lottery, and behold! you are a clever man.He who triumphs is venerated.Be born with a silver spoon in your mouth! everything lies in that.Be lucky, and you will have all the rest; be happy, and people will think you great.Outside of five or six immense exceptions, which compose the splendor of a century, contemporary admiration is nothing but short-sightedness. Gilding is gold.It does no harm to be the first arrival by pure chance, so long as you do arrive.The common herd is an old Narcissus who adores himself, and who applauds the vulgar herd.That enormous ability by virtue of which one is Moses, Aeschylus, Dante, Michael Angelo, or Napoleon, the multitude awards on the spot, and by acclamation, to whomsoever attains his object, in whatsoever it may consist. Let a notary transfigure himself into a deputy:let a false Corneille compose Tiridate; let a eunuch come to possess a harem; let a military prudhomme accidentally win the decisive battle of an epoch; let an apothecary invent cardboard shoe-soles for the army of the Sambre-and-Meuse, and construct for himself, out of this cardboard, sold as leather, four hundred thousand francs of income; let a pork-packer espouse usury, and cause it to bring forth seven or eight millions, of which he is the father and of which it is the mother; let a preacher become a bishop by force of his nasal drawl; let the steward of a fine family be so rich on retiring from service that he is made minister of finances,--and men call that Genius, just as they call the face of Mousqueton Beauty, and the mien of Claude Majesty.With the constellations of space they confound the stars of the abyss which are made in the soft mire of the puddle by the feet of ducks.

     常有成群的青年军官在将军的周围，在主教的周围，几乎也常有成批的小教士。这种人正是可爱的圣方济各?撒肋①在某处所说的那些“白口教士”。任何事情都有追求者，追随着此中的成功者，世间不存在一 种无喽罗的势力，也不存在一种无臣仆的尊荣。指望前程远大的人，都围绕着目前的显贵奔走钻营。每个主教衙门都有它的幕僚。每个稍有势力的主教，都有他那群天使般的小修士在主教院里巡逻，照顾，守卫，以图博得主教大人的欢心。获取了主教的赏识，也就等于福星高照，有充当五品修士的希望了。求上进是人之常情，上帝的门徒是不会亏待他的下属的。
①方济各?撒肋（FrancoisdeSales，1567—1622），日内瓦主教，他重振了天主教势力。
    
     在别的地方有高大的帽子，在教堂里也同样有峨的法冠。这种人也就是那些主教，他们有钱有势，坐收年息，手腕灵活，受到上层社会宠信，善于求人，当然也善于使唤人，他们指使整个主教区的教民亲自登门拜谒，他们充当教会与外交界之间的桥梁，他们足够做教士而不足以当神甫，足够做教廷执事而不足以当主教。接近他们的人都皆大欢喜！

     那些高高在上的人，把肥的教区、在家修行人的赡养费、教区督察官职位、随军教士职位、天主堂里的差事，雨点般撒在他们周围那些殷勤献媚，博得他们欢心，长于讨好他们的青年们的头上，以待将来加上主教的尊贵。他们自己高升，同时也带着卫星前进；那是在行进中的整个太阳系。他们的光辉把追随他们的人都照得发紫。他们一人得志，众人也托福高升。老板的教区越广，宠幸的地盘也越大，并且还有罗马在。由主教而总主教而红衣主教的人可以提拔你为红衣主教的随员，你进入宗教裁判所，你会得到绣黑十字的白呢飘带，你就做起陪审官来了，再进而为内廷机要秘书，再进而为主教，并且只须再走一步就由主教升为红衣主教了，红衣主教与教皇之间也不过只有一点选举的过常凡是头戴教士小帽的人都可以梦想教皇的三重冕。神甫是今天唯一能按部就班升上王位的人，并且那是何等的王位！至高无上的王位。

     同时，教士培养所又是怎样一种培植野心的温床！多少腼腆的唱诗童子，多少年轻的教士都顶上了贝莱特①的奶罐！包藏野心的人自吹能虔诚奉教，自以为那是轻而易举的事，也许他确有那样一片诚心，谁知道？沉溺日久，自己也变得莫名其妙。
①拉封丹（LaFontaine）的寓言谈到一个送奶的姑娘，叫贝莱特，她头上顶一罐奶进城，一路梦想把奶卖了，可以买一百个鸡蛋，孵出小鸡养大，卖了买猪，猪卖了又买牛，牛又生了小牛，她看见小牛在草地上跳，乐到自己也跳起来，把奶罐掉在地上，结果是一场空欢喜。
    
     卞福汝主教没有被人列入那些高贵的主教里面，他谦卑、清寒、淡泊。那可以从在他周围完全没有青年教士这一点上看出来。我们已经知道，他在巴黎“毫无成就”。没有一个青年愿把自己的前程托付给那样一个孤独老人。没有一株有野心的嫩苗动过靠他发迹的傻念头。他的那些教士和助理主教全是一些安分守己的老头儿，和他一样的一些老百姓，和他一同呆在那个无福产生红衣主教的教区里，他们就象他们的那位主教，不同的地方只是：他们是完了事的，而他是成了事的。大家都觉得在卞福汝主教跟前没有发迹的可能，以致那些刚从教士培养所里出来的青年人，经他任命为神甫之后，便都转向艾克斯总主教或欧什总主教那里去活动，迫不及待避开了他。

     我们再说一次，因为凡人都愿意有人提拔。一个过于克己的圣人便是一个可以误事的伙伴，他可以连累你陷入一条无可救药的绝路，害你关节僵硬，行动不得，总之他会要你奉行你不愿接受的那种谦让之道。因此大家都逃避那种癞疥似的德行。这就是卞福汝主教门庭冷落的原因。我们生活在阴暗的社会里，向上爬，正是一种由上而下的慢性腐蚀教育。
    
     顺便提一句，成功是件相当丑恶的事。它貌似真才实学，而实际是以假乱真。一般人常以为成功和优越性几乎是同一回事。成功是才能的假相，受它愚弄的是历史。只有尤维纳利斯①和塔西佗②在这方面表示过愤慨。在我们这时代有种差不多被人公认为哲学正宗的理论，它成了成功的仆从，它标榜成功，并不惜为成功做苦差事。你设法成功吧，这就是原理。富贵就等于才能。中得头彩，你便是一个出色的人才。谁得势，谁就受人尊崇。
①尤维纳利斯（Juvenal），一世纪罗马诗人。
②塔西佗（Tacite），一世纪罗马历史学家。

     只要你的八字好，一切都大有可为。只要你运气好，其余的东西也就全在你的掌握中了。只要你事事如意，大家便认为你伟大。除了五六个震动整个世纪的突出事例之外，我们这时代的尊崇全是没有见地的。金漆就是真金。阿猫阿狗，全无关系，关键只在成功。就象那顾影自怜的老水仙③一样，世间俗物很能赞赏俗物。任何人在任何方面，只要达到目的，众人便齐声喝彩，誉为奇才异能，说他比得上摩西、埃斯库罗斯④、但盯米开朗琪罗或拿破仑。
③据神话，水仙在水边望见自己的影子，情不自尽，投入水中，化为水仙花。
④埃斯库罗斯（Eschyle），古希腊悲剧家。

     无论是一个书吏当了议员，一 个假高乃依⑤写了一本《第利达特》⑥，一个太监乱了宫闱，一个披着军服的纸老虎侥幸地打了一次划时代的胜仗，一个药剂师发明了纸鞋底冒充皮革，去供给桑布尔和默慈军区而获得四十万利弗的年息，一个百货贩子盘剥厚利，攒聚了七八百万不义之财，一个传道士因说话带浓重鼻音而当上了主教，一个望族的管家在告退时成了巨富，因而被提升为财政大臣，凡此种种，人们都称为天才，正如他们以穆司克东①的嘴脸为美，以克劳狄乌斯②的派头为仪表一样。穹苍中的星光和鸭掌在烂泥里踏出的迹印在他们看来并无分别。
⑤高乃依（Corneille），法国十七世纪古典悲剧作家。
⑥第利达特（Tiridate），一世纪亚美尼亚国王。
①穆司克东（Mousqueton），大仲马小说《二十年后》中人物，好吃懒做的仆人。
②克劳狄乌斯（Claude），罗马政治活动家，恺撒的拥护者，前五八年为护民官。

     We are not obliged to sound the Bishop of D---- on the score of orthodoxy.In the presence of such a soul we feel ourselves in no mood but respect.The conscience of the just man should be accepted on his word.Moreover, certain natures being given, we admit the possible development of all beauties of human virtue in a belief that differs from our own.

    What did he think of this dogma, or of that mystery?These secrets of the inner tribunal of the conscience are known only to the tomb, where souls enter naked.The point on which we are certain is, that the difficulties of faith never resolved themselves into hypocrisy in his case.No decay is possible to the diamond. He believed to the extent of his powers."Credo in patrem," he often exclaimed.Moreover, he drew from good works that amount of satisfaction which suffices to the conscience, and which whispers to a man, "Thou art with God!"

    The point which we consider it our duty to note is, that outside of and beyond his faith, as it were, the Bishop possessed an excess of love.In was in that quarter, quia multum amavit,--because he loved much--that he was regarded as vulnerable by "serious men," "grave persons" and "reasonable people"; favorite locutions of our sad world where egotism takes its word of command from pedantry. What was this excess of love?It was a serene benevolence which overflowed men, as we have already pointed out, and which, on occasion, extended even to things.He lived without disdain. He was indulgent towards God's creation.Every man, even the best, has within him a thoughtless harshness which he reserves for animals. The Bishop of D---- had none of that harshness, which is peculiar to many priests, nevertheless.He did not go as far as the Brahmin, but he seemed to have weighed this saying of Ecclesiastes:"Who knoweth whither the soul of the animal goeth?"Hideousness of aspect, deformity of instinct, troubled him not, and did not arouse his indignation.He was touched, almost softened by them. It seemed as though he went thoughtfully away to seek beyond the bounds of life which is apparent, the cause, the explanation, or the excuse for them.He seemed at times to be asking God to commute these penalties.He examined without wrath, and with the eye of a linguist who is deciphering a palimpsest, that portion of chaos which still exists in nature.This revery sometimes caused him to utter odd sayings.One morning he was in his garden, and thought himself alone, but his sister was walking behind him, unseen by him:suddenly he paused and gazed at something on the ground; it was a large, black, hairy, frightful spider.His sister heard him say:--

    "poor beast!It is not its fault!"
    Why not mention these almost divinely childish sayings of kindness? puerile they may be; but these sublime puerilities were peculiar to Saint Francis d'Assisi and of Marcus Aurelius.One day he sprained his ankle in his effort to avoid stepping on an ant. Thus lived this just man.Sometimes he fell asleep in his garden, and then there was nothing more venerable possible.

    Monseigneur Bienvenu had formerly been, if the stories anent his youth, and even in regard to his manhood, were to be believed, a passionate, and, possibly, a violent man.His universal suavity was less an instinct of nature than the result of a grand conviction which had filtered into his heart through the medium of life, and had trickled there slowly, thought by thought; for, in a character, as in a rock, there may exist apertures made by drops of water. These hollows are uneffaceable; these formations are indestructible.

    In 1815, as we think we have already said, he reached his seventy-fifth birthday, but he did not appear to be more than sixty.He was not tall; he was rather plump; and, in order to combat this tendency, he was fond of taking long strolls on foot; his step was firm, and his form was but slightly bent, a detail from which we do not pretend to draw any conclusion.Gregory XVI., at the age of eighty, held himself erect and smiling, which did not prevent him from being a bad bishop.Monseigneur Welcome had what the people term a "fine head," but so amiable was he that they forgot that it was fine.

    When he conversed with that infantile gayety which was one of his charms, and of which we have already spoken, people felt at their ease with him, and joy seemed to radiate from his whole person.His fresh and ruddy complexion, his very white teeth, all of which he had preserved, and which were displayed by his smile, gave him that open and easy air which cause the remark to be made of a man, "He's a good fellow"; and of an old man, "He is a fine man."That, it will be recalled, was the effect which he produced upon Napoleon.On the first encounter, and to one who saw him for the first time, he was nothing, in fact, but a fine man.But if one remained near him for a few hours, and beheld him in the least degree pensive, the fine man became gradually transfigured, and took on some imposing quality, I know not what; his broad and serious brow, rendered august by his white locks, became august also by virtue of meditation; majesty radiated from his goodness, though his goodness ceased not to be radiant; one experienced something of the emotion which one would feel on beholding a smiling angel slowly unfold his wings, without ceasing to smile.Respect, an unutterable respect, penetrated you by degrees and mounted to your heart, and one felt that one had before him one of those strong, thoroughly tried, and indulgent souls where thought is so grand that it can no longer be anything but gentle.

    As we have seen, prayer, the celebration of the offices of religion, alms-giving, the consolation of the afflicted, the cultivation of a bit of land, fraternity, frugality, hospitality, renunciation, confidence, study, work, filled every day of his life.Filled is exactly the word; certainly the Bishop's day was quite full to the brim, of good words and good deeds.Nevertheless, it was not complete if cold or rainy weather prevented his passing an hour or two in his garden before going to bed, and after the two women had retired. It seemed to be a sort of rite with him, to prepare himself for slumber by meditation in the presence of the grand spectacles of the nocturnal heavens.Sometimes, if the two old women were not asleep, they heard him pacing slowly along the walks at a very advanced hour of the night.He was there alone, communing with himself, peaceful, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the ether, moved amid the darkness by the visible splendor of the constellations and the invisible splendor of God, opening his heart to the thoughts which fall from the Unknown. At such moments, while he offered his heart at the hour when nocturnal flowers offer their perfume, illuminated like a lamp amid the starry night, as he poured himself out in ecstasy in the midst of the universal radiance of creation, he could not have told himself, probably, what was passing in his spirit; he felt something take its flight from him, and something descend into him.Mysterious exchange of the abysses of the soul with the abysses of the universe!

    He thought of the grandeur and presence of God; of the future eternity, that strange mystery; of the eternity past, a mystery still more strange; of all the infinities, which pierced their way into all his senses, beneath his eyes; and, without seeking to comprehend the incomprehensible, he gazed upon it.He did not study God; he was dazzled by him.He considered those magnificent conjunctions of atoms, which communicate aspects to matter, reveal forces by verifying them, create individualities in unity, proportions in extent, the innumerable in the infinite, and, through light, produce beauty. These conjunctions are formed and dissolved incessantly; hence life and death.

    He seated himself on a wooden bench, with his back against a decrepit vine; he gazed at the stars, past the puny and stunted silhouettes of his fruit-trees. This quarter of an acre, so poorly planted, so encumbered with mean buildings and sheds, was dear to him, and satisfied his wants.

    What more was needed by this old man, who divided the leisure of his life, where there was so little leisure, between gardening in the daytime and contemplation at night?Was not this narrow enclosure, with the heavens for a ceiling, sufficient to enable him to adore God in his most divine works, in turn?Does not this comprehend all, in fact? and what is there left to desire beyond it? A little garden in which to walk, and immensity in which to dream. At one's feet that which can be cultivated and plucked; over head that which one can study and meditate upon:some flowers on earth, and all the stars in the sky.

     谈到宗教的真谛问题，我们对迪涅的主教先生不能作任何窥测。我们只能有敬佩的心情，面对着象他那样一颗心。我们应当完全信服一个心地正直的人。并且，我们认为，在具备了某些品质的情况下，人的品德的各种美，都是可以在和我们不同的信仰中得到发展的。
    
     他究竟怎样理解这样一种教义或那样一种神秘呢？那些隐在心灵深处的秘密，只有那迎接赤裸裸的灵魂的坟墓才能知道。不过有一点我们可以肯定，那就是，在解决信仰方面的难题时，他从来都不采取口是心非的虚伪态度。金刚石是决不至于腐烂的。他尽力而为，竭诚信仰。“信天父。”③他常说。此外，他还在行善中希求一定程度的、既无愧于良心也无愧于上帝的满足。
③“信天父”，原文为拉丁文 CredoinPatrem。
    
     我们认为应当指出的是，主教在他的信心之外（不妨这样说）和这信心之上，还存在着一种过分的仁爱。正是在那上面，“由于多爱”④，他才被那些“端庄”、“严肃”和“通达”的人认为是有缺点的；“端庄”、“严肃”、“通达”这些字眼也正是我们这个悲惨世界里那些全靠贬低别人来抬高自己的人所津津乐道的。
④“由于多爱”，原文为拉丁文 quiamultumamavit。

     那种过分的仁爱是什么？是一种冷静的对人关怀之心，他关怀众人，正如我们指出过的已经到了无微不至的程度，有时还兼及其他的生物。他一生不曾有过奚落人之心。他对上帝的创造从不苛求。任何人，即使是最善良的人，对待动物，无意识中总还保留一种暴戾之气。许多神甫都具有这种暴戾之气，而迪涅的这位主教却一点也没有。他虽然还没有达到婆罗门教的境界，但对圣书中“谁知道动物的灵魂归宿何处？”这句话，似乎象是作过深长的思索。丑陋的外形和怪异的本性都不能惊动他，触犯他。他却反而会受到感动，几乎泛起爱怜之心。他聚精会神，仿佛要在生命的表相之外追究出其所以如此的根源、理由或苦衷。有时他好象还恳求上帝加以改造。他用语言学家考证古人遗墨的目光，平心静气地观察自然界中迄今还存在着的多种多样的混乱现象。那种遐想有时会使他说出一些怪话。一天早晨，他正在园里，他以为身边没有人，其实他的妹妹在他后面跟着走，他没有看见，忽然，他停下来，望着地上的一件东西，一只黑色、毛茸茸、怪可怕的大蜘蛛。他妹妹听见他说：“可怜虫！这不是它的过错。”
    
     那种出自悲天悯人之心的儿语，为何不能说呢？固然那是一种稚气，但是这种绝妙的稚气也正是阿西西的圣方济各①和马可?奥里略②有过的。一天，他为了不肯踏死一只蚂蚁，竟扭伤了筋骨。
①圣方济各（Francoisd′Assise，1181—1226），一译“法兰西斯”，方济各会创始人，生于意大利阿西西。一二○九年成立“方济各托钵修会”，修士自称“小兄弟”，又称“小兄弟会”。②马可?奥里略（MarcAurele，121—180），罗马皇帝，斯多葛派哲学家。
    
     这个正直的人便如此过活。有时他睡在自己的园里，那真是一种最能令人向往的事。
    据闻，卞福汝主教从前在青年时期，甚至在壮年时期，都曾是一个热情的人，甚或还是一个粗暴的人。他后来的那种被及一切的仁慈，与其说是天赋的本性，不如说是他在生活过程中一步步逐渐达到大彻大悟的结果，因为，人心和岩石一样，也可以有被水滴穿的孔。那些空隙是不会消失的，那些成绩难以毁灭。
    
     我们好象已经说过，在一八一五年，他已七十五岁，但看去好象还没过六十。他的身材矮矮胖胖，为了避免肥胖，他喜欢作长距离的步行；他腿力仍健，背稍微伛一点，这些并不重要，我们不打算在这上面作什么结论。格列高利十六①到了八十岁还是身躯挺直、笑容满面的，但他仍是一个坏主教。卞福汝主教的相貌正象是老乡们所说的那种“美男子”，但他的和蔼性格已使人忘了他面貌的美。
①格列高利十六（GregoireXVI，1765—1846），一八三一年至一八四六年为罗马教皇。
    
     他在谈话中不时嬉笑，有些孩子气，那也是他的风采之一。这我们已经说过了，我们和他接近就会感到身心舒畅，好象他的谈笑会带来春风满座。他肤色红润，保全了一嘴洁白的牙齿，笑时露出来，给他添了一种坦率和平易近人的神气，那种神气可以让一个壮年人被人称作“好孩子”，也可以使一个老年人被人称作“好汉子”。我们记得，他当年给拿破仑的印象正是如此。乍一看来，他在初次和他见面的人心目中，确也只不过是一个好汉子。但是如果我们和他接触了几个小时，只须稍稍望见他陷入沉思，那个好汉子便慢慢变了样，会令人莫名其妙地肃然生畏；他那广而庄重、原就在白发下显得尊严的前额，也因潜心思考而倍显尊严了；威严出自慈祥，而慈祥之气仍不停散布；我们受到的感动，正如看见一个笑容可掬的天使在缓缓展开他的翅膀，一面还不停地露着笑容。一种敬意，一种无可言喻的敬意会油然而生，直达你的胸臆，于是我们觉得在我们面前的，确是一位坚定、饱经世故的仁厚长者，他的胸襟既是那样开朗，那他的思想也就必然是温柔敦厚的了。
    
     如我们所知，他一生的每一天都被祈祷、上祭、布施、安慰伤心人、种一小块园地、实行仁爱、节食、招待过路客人、克己、信人、学习、劳动这类事充满。“充满”这两个字是恰当的，并且主教过的这种日子又一定洋溢着善良的思想、善良的言语和善良的行为，直趋完善之境。但到了晚上，当那两个妇女已经退去休息时，如果天冷，或是下雨，使他不能到园子里去待上一两个钟点再就寝的话，他那一天也还是过得不满足的。面对着太虚中寥廓的夜景，缪然默念，以待睡意来临，在他，这好象已是一种仪式了。有时，夜深人静之后，那两个老妇人如果还没有睡着，她们常会听见他在那几条小径上缓步徘徊。他在那里，独自一 人，虔诚，恬静，爱慕一切，拿自己心中的谧静去与太空的谧静相比拟，从黑暗中去感受星斗有形的美和上帝无形的美。那时，夜花正献出它们的香气，他也献出了他的心，他的心正象一盏明灯，在闪闪繁星之中点亮，景仰赞叹，飘游于造物无边无际的光辉里。他自己也许说不出在他心中萦绕的究竟为何物，他只感到有东西从他体中飞散出去，也有东西飘落回来。心灵的幽奥和宇宙的幽奥的神秘的交汇！
    
     他想到上帝的伟大，也想到上帝和他同在；想到绵绵无尽的将来是一种深不可测的神秘，无可究竟的往古更是神秘渺茫；想到宇宙在他的眼中朝着各个方面无止境地扩展延伸；他不强求了解这种无法了解的现象，但他凝神注视着一切。他不研究上帝，他只为之心旷神怡。他涉想到原子的奇妙结合能使物质具有形象，能在组合时产生力量，在整体中创造出个体，在空间创造出广度和长度，在无极中创造出无量数，并能通过光线显示美。那样的结合，生生灭灭，绵绵无尽，因而有生也有死。他坐在一条木凳上，靠着一个朽了的葡萄架，穿过那些果树的瘦弱蜷屈的暗影，仰望群星。在那四分之一亩的地方，树木稀疏，残棚破屋又那么挤，但他留恋，心里满足。这个老人一生的空闲时间既那么少，那一点空闲时间在白天又已被园艺占去，在晚上又用于沉思冥想，他还有什么希求呢？那一小块园地，上有天空，不是已经足够供他用来反复景仰上帝的最美妙、最卓绝的工作吗？的确，难道那样不已经十全十美，还有什么可奢求的呢？一院小园供他盘桓，一片浩阔的天空供他神游。脚下有东西供他培植收获，头上有东西供他思索探讨，地下花几朵，天上星万点。

     One last word.
     Since this sort of details might, particularly at the present moment, and to use an expression now in fashion, give to the Bishop of D---- a certain "pantheistical" physiognomy, and induce the belief, either to his credit or discredit, that he entertained one of those personal philosophies which are peculiar to our century, which sometimes spring up in solitary spirits, and there take on a form and grow until they usurp the place of religion, we insist upon it, that not one of those persons who knew Monseigneur Welcome would have thought himself authorized to think anything of the sort. That which enlightened this man was his heart.His wisdom was made of the light which comes from there.

    No systems; many works.Abstruse speculations contain vertigo; no, there is nothing to indicate that he risked his mind in apocalypses. The apostle may be daring, but the bishop must be timid.He would probably have felt a scruple at sounding too far in advance certain problems which are, in a manner, reserved for terrible great minds. There is a sacred horror beneath the porches of the enigma; those gloomy openings stand yawning there, but something tells you, you, a passer-by in life, that you must not enter. Woe to him who penetrates thither!

    Geniuses in the impenetrable depths of abstraction and pure speculation, situated, so to speak, above all dogmas, propose their ideas to God.Their prayer audaciously offers discussion. Their adoration interrogates.This is direct religion, which is full of anxiety and responsibility for him who attempts its steep cliffs.

    Human meditation has no limits.At his own risk and peril, it analyzes and digs deep into its own bedazzlement.One might almost say, that by a sort of splendid reaction, it with it dazzles nature; the mysterious world which surrounds us renders back what it has received; it is probable that the contemplators are contemplated. However that may be, there are on earth men who--are they men?-- perceive distinctly at the verge of the horizons of revery the heights of the absolute, and who have the terrible vision of the infinite mountain.Monseigneur Welcome was one of these men; Monseigneur Welcome was not a genius.He would have feared those sublimities whence some very great men even, like Swedenborg and pascal, have slipped into insanity.Certainly, these powerful reveries have their moral utility, and by these arduous paths one approaches to ideal perfection.As for him, he took the path which shortens,-- the Gospel's.

    He did not attempt to impart to his chasuble the folds of Elijah's mantle; he projected no ray of future upon the dark groundswell of events; he did not see to condense in flame the light of things; he had nothing of the prophet and nothing of the magician about him. This humble soul loved, and that was all.

    That he carried prayer to the pitch of a superhuman aspiration is probable:but one can no more pray too much than one can love too much; and if it is a heresy to pray beyond the texts, Saint Theresa and Saint Jerome would be heretics.

    He inclined towards all that groans and all that expiates. The universe appeared to him like an immense malady; everywhere he felt fever, everywhere he heard the sound of suffering, and, without seeking to solve the enigma, he strove to dress the wound. The terrible spectacle of created things developed tenderness in him; he was occupied only in finding for himself, and in inspiring others with the best way to compassionate and relieve.That which exists was for this good and rare priest a permanent subject of sadness which sought consolation.

     There are men who toil at extracting gold; he toiled at the extraction of pity.Universal misery was his mine.The sadness which reigned everywhere was but an excuse for unfailing kindness.Love each other; he declared this to be complete, desired nothing further, and that was the whole of his doctrine.One day, that man who believed himself to be a "philosopher," the senator who has already been alluded to, said to the Bishop:"Just survey the spectacle of the world: all war against all; the strongest has the most wit.Your love each other is nonsense."--"Well," replied Monseigneur Welcome, without contesting the point, "if it is nonsense, the soul should shut itself up in it, as the pearl in the oyster."Thus he shut himself up, he lived there, he was absolutely satisfied with it, leaving on one side the prodigious questions which attract and terrify, the fathomless perspectives of abstraction, the precipices of metaphysics--all those profundities which converge, for the apostle in God, for the atheist in nothingness; destiny, good and evil, the way of being against being, the conscience of man, the thoughtful somnambulism of the animal, the transformation in death, the recapitulation of existences which the tomb contains, the incomprehensible grafting of successive loves on the persistent _I_, the essence, the substance, the Nile, and the Ens, the soul, nature, liberty, necessity; perpendicular problems, sinister obscurities, where lean the gigantic archangels of the human mind; formidable abysses, which Lucretius, Manou, Saint paul, Dante, contemplate with eyes flashing lightning, which seems by its steady gaze on the infinite to cause stars to blaze forth there.

    Monseigneur Bienvenu was simply a man who took note of the exterior of mysterious questions without scrutinizing them, and without troubling his own mind with them, and who cherished in his own soul a grave respect for darkness.

     最后几句话。这种详细的叙述，又是在我们这时代，很可能赋予迪涅的这位主教一副泛神论者（暂用一个目下正流行的名词）的面貌，加之我们这世纪中的哲学流派繁多，那些纷纭的思想有时会在生活孤寂的人的精神上发芽成长，扩大影响，直到代替宗教，我们的叙述，又会使人认为他有他一套独特的人生观，无论这对他是贬是褒，我们都应当着重指出，凡是认识卞福汝主教的人，没有一个敢有那样的想法。他之所以光明磊落，是由于他的心，他的智慧正是由那里发出的光构成的。
    
     不守成规，勇于任事。探赜索隐，每每使他神志昏瞀；他是否窥探过玄学，毫无迹象可寻。使徒行事，可以大刀阔斧，主教却应该小心谨慎。他也许觉得某些问题是应当留待大智大慧的人去探讨的，自己如果推究太深，反而于心不安。玄学的门，神圣骇人，那些幽暗的洞口，一 一向人打开，但有一种声音在向你这生命中的过客说“慎勿妄进”。进去的人都将不幸！而那些天才，置身于教律之上（不妨这样说），从抽象观念和唯理学说的无尽深渊中，向上帝提出他们的意见。他们的祷告充满了大胆的争论。他们的颂赞带着疑难。这是一种想直接证悟的宗教，妄图攀援绝壁的人必将因重重烦恼而自食其果。
    
     人类的遐想是漫无止境的。人常在遐想中不避艰险，分析研究并深入追求他自己所赞叹的奇境。我们差不多可以这么说，由于一种奇妙的反作用，人类的遐想可以使宇宙惊奇，围绕着我们的这个神秘世界能吐其所纳，瞻望的人们也就极有被瞻望的可能。无论怎样，这世上确有一 些人（如果他们仅仅是人），能在梦想的视野深处，清晰地望见绝对真理的高度和无极巅峰惊心触目的景象。卞福汝主教完全不是这种人，卞福汝主教不是天才。他也许害怕那种绝顶的聪明，有几个人，并且是才气磅礴的人，例如斯维登堡①和帕斯卡尔②，就是因为聪明绝顶而精神失常的。
①斯维登堡（Swedenborg，1688—1772），瑞典通灵论者。②帕斯卡尔（Pascal，1623—1662），法国数学家，物理学家，哲学家。）

     因而，那种强烈的梦想，对人的身心自有它的用处，并且通过那条艰险的道路，我们可望达到理想中的至善境界，可是他，他选择了一 条捷径——《福音书》。
    
     他绝不想让他的祭服具有以利亚③的法衣的皱褶，他对这黑暗世界中人事的兴衰变迁，不怀任何希冀；他不希望能使一事一物的微光集成烈火，他毫无那些先知方士们的臭味。他那颗质朴的心只知道爱，如此而已。
③以利亚（Elie），犹太先知（《圣经?列王记》）。）
    
     他的祈祷中的憧憬与众不同，那很有可能，但得先有极其殷切的爱，才能作出极其殷切的析祷，如果祈祷的内容越出了经文的规范，便被认为是异端，那么，圣泰莉莎和圣热罗姆岂不成了异端了？
    
     他常照顾那些呻吟床榻和奄奄待毙的人。这世界在他看来好象是一 种漫无边际的病苦，他觉得寒热遍地，他四处诊察疾苦，他不想猜破谜底，只试图包扎创伤。人世的惨状使他的心悲天悯人，他一心一意想找出可以安慰人心和解除痛苦的途径，那是为他自己也是为了影响旁人。世间存在的一切事物，对这位不可多得的慈悲神甫，都是引起恻隐之心和济世宏愿的永恒动力。
    
     多少人在努力发掘黄金，他却只努力发掘慈悲心肠。天下的愁苦便是他的矿。遍地的苦痛随时为他提供行善的机会。“你们应当彼此相爱”，他说如果能这样，便一切齐备了，不必再求其他，这就是他的全部教义。一天，那个自命为“哲学家”的元老院元老（我们已经提到过他的名字）对他说：“您瞧瞧这世上的情形吧，人自为战，谁胜利，谁就有理。您的‘互爱’简直是胡扯。”卞福汝主教并不和他争论，只回答：“好吧，即使是胡扯，人的心总还应当隐藏在那里，如同珍珠隐在蚌壳里一样。”他自己便隐藏在那里，生活在那里，绝对地心满意足，不理睬那些诱人而又骇人的重大问题，如抽象理论无可揣摹的远景以及形而上学的深渊，他把所有那些针对同一问题的玄妙理论都抛在一边，留给上帝的信徒和否定上帝的虚无论者去解决，这些玄论有命运、善恶、生物和生物间的斗争、动物的半睡眠半思想状态、死后的转化、坟墓中的生命总结、宿世的恩情对今生之“我”的那种不可理解的纠缠、元精、实质、色空、灵魂、本性、自由、必然，还有代表人类智慧的巨神们所探索的那些穷高极深的问题，还有卢克莱修①、魔奴②、圣保罗和但丁曾以如炬的目光，凝神仰望的那仿佛能使群星跃出的浩阔天空。
①卢克莱修（Lucrece，前 98—55），罗马诗人，唯物主义者，无神论者。②摩奴（Manou），印度神话中之人类始祖。
    
     卞福汝主教是个普通人，他只从表面涉猎那些幽渺的问题，他不深究，也不推波助澜，以免使自己精神受到骚扰，但在他的心灵中，对于幽冥，却怀有一种深厚的敬畏之情。

     Early in the month of October, 1815, about an hour before sunset, a man who was travelling on foot entered the little town of D---- The few inhabitants who were at their windows or on their thresholds at the moment stared at this traveller with a sort of uneasiness. It was difficult to encounter a wayfarer of more wretched appearance. He was a man of medium stature, thickset and robust, in the prime of life.He might have been forty-six or forty-eight years old. A cap with a drooping leather visor partly concealed his face, burned and tanned by sun and wind, and dripping with perspiration. His shirt of coarse yellow linen, fastened at the neck by a small silver anchor, permitted a view of his hairy breast:he had a cravat twisted into a string; trousers of blue drilling, worn and threadbare, white on one knee and torn on the other; an old gray, tattered blouse, patched on one of the elbows with a bit of green cloth sewed on with twine; a tightly packed soldier knapsack, well buckled and perfectly new, on his back; an enormous, knotty stick in his hand; iron-shod shoes on his stockingless feet; a shaved head and a long beard.

     The sweat, the heat, the journey on foot, the dust, added I know not what sordid quality to this dilapidated whole.His hair was closely cut, yet bristling, for it had begun to grow a little, and did not seem to have been cut for some time.

     No one knew him.He was evidently only a chance passer-by. Whence came he?From the south; from the seashore, perhaps, for he made his entrance into D---- by the same street which, seven months previously, had witnessed the passage of the Emperor Napoleon on his way from Cannes to paris.This man must have been walking all day. He seemed very much fatigued.Some women of the ancient market town which is situated below the city had seen him pause beneath the trees of the boulevard Gassendi, and drink at the fountain which stands at the end of the promenade.He must have been very thirsty: for the children who followed him saw him stop again for a drink, two hundred paces further on, at the fountain in the market-place.

     On arriving at the corner of the Rue poichevert, he turned to the left, and directed his steps toward the town-hall. He entered, then came out a quarter of an hour later.A gendarme was seated near the door, on the stone bench which General Drouot had mounted on the 4th of March to read to the frightened throng of the inhabitants of D---- the proclamation of the Gulf Juan.The man pulled off his cap and humbly saluted the gendarme.

     The gendarme, without replying to his salute, stared attentively at him, followed him for a while with his eyes, and then entered the town-hall.

    There then existed at D---- a fine inn at the sign of the Cross of Colbas.This inn had for a landlord a certain Jacquin Labarre, a man of consideration in the town on account of his relationship to another Labarre, who kept the inn of the Three Dauphins in Grenoble, and had served in the Guides.At the time of the Emperor's landing, many rumors had circulated throughout the country with regard to this inn of the Three Dauphins.It was said that General Bertrand, disguised as a carter, had made frequent trips thither in the month of January, and that he had distributed crosses of honor to the soldiers and handfuls of gold to the citizens.The truth is, that when the Emperor entered Grenoble he had refused to install himself at the hotel of the prefecture; he had thanked the mayor, saying, "I am going to the house of a brave man of my acquaintance"; and he had betaken himself to the Three Dauphins.This glory of the Labarre of the Three Dauphins was reflected upon the Labarre of the Cross of Colbas, at a distance of five and twenty leagues. It was said of him in the town, "That is the cousin of the man of Grenoble."

     The man bent his steps towards this inn, which was the best in the country-side. He entered the kitchen, which opened on a level with the street.All the stoves were lighted; a huge fire blazed gayly in the fireplace.The host, who was also the chief cook, was going from one stew-pan to another, very busily superintending an excellent dinner designed for the wagoners, whose loud talking, conversation, and laughter were audible from an adjoining apartment. Any one who has travelled knows that there is no one who indulges in better cheer than wagoners.A fat marmot, flanked by white partridges and heather-cocks, was turning on a long spit before the fire; on the stove, two huge carps from Lake Lauzet and a trout from Lake Alloz were cooking.

     The host, hearing the door open and seeing a newcomer enter, said, without raising his eyes from his stoves:--
     "What do you wish, sir?"
     "Food and lodging," said the man.
     "Nothing easier," replied the host.At that moment he turned his head, took in the traveller's appearance with a single glance, and added, "By paying for it."

     The man drew a large leather purse from the pocket of his blouse, and answered, "I have money."
     "In that case, we are at your service," said the host.
     The man put his purse back in his pocket, removed his knapsack from his back, put it on the ground near the door, retained his stick in his hand, and seated himself on a low stool close to the fire. D---- is in the mountains.The evenings are cold there in October.

     But as the host went back and forth, he scrutinized the traveller.
     "Will dinner be ready soon?" said the man.
     "Immediately," replied the landlord.

     While the newcomer was warming himself before the fire, with his back turned, the worthy host, Jacquin Labarre, drew a pencil from his pocket, then tore off the corner of an old newspaper which was lying on a small table near the window.On the white margin he wrote a line or two, folded it without sealing, and then intrusted this scrap of paper to a child who seemed to serve him in the capacity both of scullion and lackey.The landlord whispered a word in the scullion's ear, and the child set off on a run in the direction of the town-hall.

     The traveller saw nothing of all this.
     Once more he inquired, "Will dinner be ready soon?"
     "Immediately," responded the host.

     The child returned.He brought back the paper.The host unfolded it eagerly, like a person who is expecting a reply.He seemed to read it attentively, then tossed his head, and remained thoughtful for a moment.Then he took a step in the direction of the traveller, who appeared to be immersed in reflections which were not very serene.

     "I cannot receive you, sir," said he.
     The man half rose.
     "What!Are you afraid that I will not pay you?Do you want me to pay you in advance?I have money, I tell you."
     "It is not that."
     "What then?"
     "You have money--"
     "Yes," said the man.
     "And I," said the host, "have no room."

     The man resumed tranquilly, "put me in the stable."
     "I cannot."
     "Why?"
     "The horses take up all the space."
     "Very well!" retorted the man; "a corner of the loft then, a truss of straw.We will see about that after dinner."
     "I cannot give you any dinner."

     This declaration, made in a measured but firm tone, struck the stranger as grave.He rose.
     "Ah! bah!But I am dying of hunger.I have been walking since sunrise. I have travelled twelve leagues.I pay.I wish to eat."
     "I have nothing," said the landlord.
     The man burst out laughing, and turned towards the fireplace and the stoves:"Nothing! and all that?"
     "All that is engaged."
     "By whom?"

     "By messieurs the wagoners."
     "How many are there of them?"
     "Twelve."
     "There is enough food there for twenty."
     "They have engaged the whole of it and paid for it in advance."

     The man seated himself again, and said, without raising his voice, "I am at an inn; I am hungry, and I shall remain."
     Then the host bent down to his ear, and said in a tone which made him start, "Go away!"

     At that moment the traveller was bending forward and thrusting some brands into the fire with the iron-shod tip of his staff; he turned quickly round, and as he opened his mouth to reply, the host gazed steadily at him and added, still in a low voice: "Stop! there's enough of that sort of talk.Do you want me to tell you your name?Your name is Jean Valjean.Now do you want me to tell you who you are?When I saw you come in I suspected something; I sent to the town-hall, and this was the reply that was sent to me. Can you read?"

     So saying, he held out to the stranger, fully unfolded, the paper which had just travelled from the inn to the town-hall, and from the town-hall to the inn.The man cast a glance upon it. The landlord resumed after a pause.
     "I am in the habit of being polite to every one.Go away!"
     The man dropped his head, picked up the knapsack which he had deposited on the ground, and took his departure.

     He chose the principal street.He walked straight on at a venture, keeping close to the houses like a sad and humiliated man. He did not turn round a single time.Had he done so, he would have seen the host of the Cross of Colbas standing on his threshold, surrounded by all the guests of his inn, and all the passers-by in the street, talking vivaciously, and pointing him out with his finger; and, from the glances of terror and distrust cast by the group, he might have divined that his arrival would speedily become an event for the whole town.

     He saw nothing of all this.people who are crushed do not look behind them.They know but too well the evil fate which follows them.
     Thus he proceeded for some time, walking on without ceasing, traversing at random streets of which he knew nothing, forgetful of his fatigue, as is often the case when a man is sad.All at once he felt the pangs of hunger sharply.Night was drawing near. He glanced about him, to see whether he could not discover some shelter.

     The fine hostelry was closed to him; he was seeking some very humble public house, some hovel, however lowly.
     Just then a light flashed up at the end of the streets; a pine branch suspended from a cross-beam of iron was outlined against the white sky of the twilight.He proceeded thither.

     It proved to be, in fact, a public house.The public house which is in the Rue de Chaffaut.
     The wayfarer halted for a moment, and peeped through the window into the interior of the low-studded room of the public house, illuminated by a small lamp on a table and by a large fire on the hearth.Some men were engaged in drinking there.The landlord was warming himself. An iron pot, suspended from a crane, bubbled over the flame.

     The entrance to this public house, which is also a sort of an inn, is by two doors.One opens on the street, the other upon a small yard filled with manure.The traveller dare not enter by the street door. He slipped into the yard, halted again, then raised the latch timidly and opened the door.

     "Who goes there?" said the master.
     "Some one who wants supper and bed."
     "Good.We furnish supper and bed here."

     He entered.All the men who were drinking turned round. The lamp illuminated him on one side, the firelight on the other. They examined him for some time while he was taking off his knapsack.
     The host said to him, "There is the fire.The supper is cooking in the pot.Come and warm yourself, comrade."

     He approached and seated himself near the hearth.He stretched out his feet, which were exhausted with fatigue, to the fire; a fine odor was emitted by the pot.All that could be distinguished of his face, beneath his cap, which was well pulled down, assumed a vague appearance of comfort, mingled with that other poignant aspect which habitual suffering bestows.

     It was, moreover, a firm, energetic, and melancholy profile. This physiognomy was strangely composed; it began by seeming humble, and ended by seeming severe.The eye shone beneath its lashes like a fire beneath brushwood.

     One of the men seated at the table, however, was a fishmonger who, before entering the public house of the Rue de Chaffaut, had been to stable his horse at Labarre's. It chanced that he had that very morning encountered this unprepossessing stranger on the road between Bras d'Asse and--I have forgotten the name. I think it was Escoublon.Now, when he met him, the man, who then seemed already extremely weary, had requested him to take him on his crupper; to which the fishmonger had made no reply except by redoubling his gait.This fishmonger had been a member half an hour previously of the group which surrounded Jacquin Labarre, and had himself related his disagreeable encounter of the morning to the people at the Cross of Colbas.From where he sat he made an imperceptible sign to the tavern-keeper. The tavern-keeper went to him.They exchanged a few words in a low tone.The man had again become absorbed in his reflections.

     The tavern-keeper returned to the fireplace, laid his hand abruptly on the shoulder of the man, and said to him:--
     "You are going to get out of here."
     The stranger turned round and replied gently, "Ah!You know?--"
     "Yes."
     "I was sent away from the other inn."
     "And you are to be turned out of this one."
     "Where would you have me go?"
     "Elsewhere."

     The man took his stick and his knapsack and departed.
     As he went out, some children who had followed him from the Cross of Colbas, and who seemed to be lying in wait for him, threw stones at him.He retraced his steps in anger, and threatened them with his stick:the children dispersed like a flock of birds.
     He passed before the prison.At the door hung an iron chain attached to a bell.He rang.

     The wicket opened.
     "Turnkey," said he, removing his cap politely, "will you have the kindness to admit me, and give me a lodging for the night?"
     A voice replied:--
     "The prison is not an inn.Get yourself arrested, and you will be admitted."

     The wicket closed again.
     He entered a little street in which there were many gardens. Some of them are enclosed only by hedges, which lends a cheerful aspect to the street.In the midst of these gardens and hedges he caught sight of a small house of a single story, the window of which was lighted up.He peered through the pane as he had done at the public house.Within was a large whitewashed room, with a bed draped in printed cotton stuff, and a cradle in one corner, a few wooden chairs, and a double-barrelled gun hanging on the wall. A table was spread in the centre of the room.A copper lamp illuminated the tablecloth of coarse white linen, the pewter jug shining like silver, and filled with wine, and the brown, smoking soup-tureen. At this table sat a man of about forty, with a merry and open countenance, who was dandling a little child on his knees.Close by a very young woman was nursing another child. The father was laughing, the child was laughing, the mother was smiling.

     The stranger paused a moment in revery before this tender and calming spectacle.What was taking place within him? He alone could have told.It is probable that he thought that this joyous house would be hospitable, and that, in a place where he beheld so much happiness, he would find perhaps a little pity.

     He tapped on the pane with a very small and feeble knock.
     They did not hear him.
     He tapped again.
     He heard the woman say, "It seems to me, husband, that some one is knocking."

     "No," replied the husband.
     He tapped a third time.
     The husband rose, took the lamp, and went to the door, which he opened.

     He was a man of lofty stature, half peasant, half artisan. He wore a huge leather apron, which reached to his left shoulder, and which a hammer, a red handkerchief, a powder-horn, and all sorts of objects which were upheld by the girdle, as in a pocket, caused to bulge out.He carried his head thrown backwards; his shirt, widely opened and turned back, displayed his bull neck, white and bare.He had thick eyelashes, enormous black whiskers, prominent eyes, the lower part of his face like a snout; and besides all this, that air of being on his own ground, which is indescribable.

     "pardon me, sir," said the wayfarer, "Could you, in consideration of payment, give me a plate of soup and a corner of that shed yonder in the garden, in which to sleep?Tell me; can you? For money?"
     "Who are you?" demanded the master of the house.
     The man replied:"I have just come from puy-Moisson. I have walked all day long.I have travelled twelve leagues.Can you?-- if I pay?"

     "I would not refuse," said the peasant, "to lodge any respectable man who would pay me.But why do you not go to the inn?"
     "There is no room."
     "Bah!Impossible.This is neither a fair nor a market day. Have you been to Labarre?"
     "Yes."
     "Well?"

     The traveller replied with embarrassment:"I do not know. He did not receive me."
     "Have you been to What's-his-name's, in the Rue Chaffaut?"
     The stranger's embarrassment increased; he stammered, "He did not receive me either."
     The peasant's countenance assumed an expression of distrust; he surveyed the newcomer from head to feet, and suddenly exclaimed, with a sort of shudder:--
     "Are you the man?--"

     He cast a fresh glance upon the stranger, took three steps backwards, placed the lamp on the table, and took his gun down from the wall.
Meanwhile, at the words, Are you the man? the woman had risen, had clasped her two children in her arms, and had taken refuge precipitately behind her husband, staring in terror at the stranger, with her bosom uncovered, and with frightened eyes, as she murmured in a low tone, "Tso-maraude."(1)

     (1) patois of the French Alps:chat de maraude, rascally marauder.
     All this took place in less time than it requires to picture it to one's self.After having scrutinized the man for several moments, as one scrutinizes a viper, the master of the house returned to the door and said:--
     "Clear out!"
     "For pity's sake, a glass of water," said the man.
     "A shot from my gun!" said the peasant.

     Then he closed the door violently, and the man heard him shoot two large bolts.A moment later, the window-shutter was closed, and the sound of a bar of iron which was placed against it was audible outside.

     Night continued to fall.A cold wind from the Alps was blowing. By the light of the expiring day the stranger perceived, in one of the gardens which bordered the street, a sort of hut, which seemed to him to be built of sods.He climbed over the wooden fence resolutely, and found himself in the garden.He approached the hut; its door consisted of a very low and narrow aperture, and it resembled those buildings which road-laborers construct for themselves along the roads.He thought without doubt, that it was, in fact, the dwelling of a road-laborer; he was suffering from cold and hunger, but this was, at least, a shelter from the cold. This sort of dwelling is not usually occupied at night.He threw himself flat on his face, and crawled into the hut.It was warm there, and he found a tolerably good bed of straw.He lay, for a moment, stretched out on this bed, without the power to make a movement, so fatigued was he.Then, as the knapsack on his back was in his way, and as it furnished, moreover, a pillow ready to his hand, he set about unbuckling one of the straps.At that moment, a ferocious growl became audible.He raised his eyes.The head of an enormous dog was outlined in the darkness at the entrance of the hut.

     It was a dog's kennel.
     He was himself vigorous and formidable; he armed himself with his staff, made a shield of his knapsack, and made his way out of the kennel in the best way he could, not without enlarging the rents in his rags.

     He left the garden in the same manner, but backwards, being obliged, in order to keep the dog respectful, to have recourse to that manoeuvre with his stick which masters in that sort of fencing designate as la rose couverte.
     When he had, not without difficulty, repassed the fence, and found himself once more in the street, alone, without refuge, without shelter, without a roof over his head, chased even from that bed of straw and from that miserable kennel, he dropped rather than seated himself on a stone, and it appears that a passer-by heard him exclaim, "I am not even a dog!"

     He soon rose again and resumed his march.He went out of the town, hoping to find some tree or haystack in the fields which would afford him shelter.
     He walked thus for some time, with his head still drooping. When he felt himself far from every human habitation, he raised his eyes and gazed searchingly about him.He was in a field. Before him was one of those low hills covered with close-cut stubble, which, after the harvest, resemble shaved heads.

     The horizon was perfectly black.This was not alone the obscurity of night; it was caused by very low-hanging clouds which seemed to rest upon the hill itself, and which were mounting and filling the whole sky.Meanwhile, as the moon was about to rise, and as there was still floating in the zenith a remnant of the brightness of twilight, these clouds formed at the summit of the sky a sort of whitish arch, whence a gleam of light fell upon the earth.

     The earth was thus better lighted than the sky, which produces a particularly sinister effect, and the hill, whose contour was poor and mean, was outlined vague and wan against the gloomy horizon. The whole effect was hideous, petty, lugubrious, and narrow.
     There was nothing in the field or on the hill except a deformed tree, which writhed and shivered a few paces distant from the wayfarer.

     This man was evidently very far from having those delicate habits of intelligence and spirit which render one sensible to the mysterious aspects of things; nevertheless, there was something in that sky, in that hill, in that plain, in that tree, which was so profoundly desolate, that after a moment of immobility and revery he turned back abruptly.There are instants when nature seems hostile.

     He retraced his steps; the gates of D---- were closed.D----, which had sustained sieges during the wars of religion, was still surrounded in 1815 by ancient walls flanked by square towers which have been demolished since.He passed through a breach and entered the town again.
It might have been eight o'clock in the evening.As he was not acquainted with the streets, he recommenced his walk at random.

     In this way he came to the prefecture, then to the seminary. As he passed through the Cathedral Square, he shook his fist at the church.
     At the corner of this square there is a printing establishment. It is there that the proclamations of the Emperor and of the Imperial Guard to the army, brought from the Island of Elba and dictated by Napoleon himself, were printed for the first time.

     Worn out with fatigue, and no longer entertaining any hope, he lay down on a stone bench which stands at the doorway of this printing office.
     At that moment an old woman came out of the church.She saw the man stretched out in the shadow."What are you doing there, my friend?" said she.
     He answered harshly and angrily:"As you see, my good woman, I am sleeping."The good woman, who was well worthy the name, in fact, was the Marquise de R----

     "On this bench?" she went on.
     "I have had a mattress of wood for nineteen years," said the man; "to-day I have a mattress of stone."
     "You have been a soldier?"
     "Yes, my good woman, a soldier."
     "Why do you not go to the inn?"
     "Because I have no money."
     "Alas!" said Madame de R----, "I have only four sous in my purse."
     "Give it to me all the same."

     The man took the four sous.Madame de R---- continued:"You cannot obtain lodgings in an inn for so small a sum.But have you tried? It is impossible for you to pass the night thus.You are cold and hungry, no doubt.Some one might have given you a lodging out of charity."
     "I have knocked at all doors."
     "Well?"
     "I have been driven away everywhere."
     The "good woman" touched the man's arm, and pointed out to him on the other side of the street a small, low house, which stood beside the Bishop's palace.
     "You have knocked at all doors?"
     "Yes."
     "Have you knocked at that one?"
     "No."
     "Knock there."v

     一八一五年十月初的一天，离日落约还有一个小时，一个人步行走进了小小的迪涅城。在家门口或窗前，稀稀落落的居民带着一种不安的心情瞧着这个行人。要碰见一个比他更褴褛的过路人太难了。他中等身材，体格粗壮，正当盛年，四十六或四十八岁左右。一顶皮檐便帽压齐眉心，把他那被太阳晒黑、淌着大汗的脸遮去了一些。从他那领上扣一 个小银锚的黄粗布衬衫里露出一部分毛茸茸的胸脯，他的领带扭得象根绳子，蓝棉布裤也磨损不堪，一个膝头成了白色，一个膝头有了窟窿；一件老灰布衫破旧褴褛，左右两肘上都已用麻线缝上了一块绿呢布；他背上有只布袋，装得满满的也扣得紧紧的；手里拿根多节的粗棍，一双没有穿袜子的脚踩在两只钉鞋里，光头，长须。

    汗、热、奔走和徒步旅行使那潦倒的人有种说不出的狼狈神情。他的头发原是剃光了的，但现在又茸茸满头了，因为又开始长出了一点，还好象多时没有修剪过似的。谁也不认识他，他当然只是个过路人。他从何而来？从南方来的。

    或是从海滨来的。因为他进迪涅城所走的路，正是七个月前拿破仑皇帝从戛纳去巴黎时所经过的路。这个人一定已走了一整天，他那神气显得异常疲乏。许多住在下城旧区里的妇人看见他在加桑第大路的树底下歇了歇，又在广场尽头的水管里喝了点水。他一定渴极了，因为追着他的那些孩子还看见他在两百步外的那个小菜场的水管下停下喝了水。

    走到巴许维街转角处，他向左转，朝市政厅走去。他进去，一刻钟之后又走了出来。有个警察坐在门旁的石凳上，那正是三月四日德鲁埃将军站上去向着惊恐万状的迪涅民众，宣读茹安港①宣言的那条石凳。那汉子取下他的便帽，向那警察恭恭敬敬行了一个礼。
①茹安港（Juan）在戛纳附近，拿破仑在此登陆时曾在此发表宣言。

    警察没有答礼，只仔细打量了他一阵，用眼光送了他一程，就进市政厅里去了。当时，迪涅有一家豪华漂亮的旅舍叫“柯耳巴十字架”。旅舍主人是雅甘?拉巴尔。城里的人都认为他是另外一个拉巴尔的亲族，另外那个拉巴尔在格勒诺布尔开着三太子旅舍，并且做过向导②。据当时传闻，正月间贝特朗将军曾经乔装为车夫，在那一带地方往来过多次，把许多十字勋章发给一些士兵，把大量的拿破仑③分给一些士绅。实际情况是这样的：皇帝进入格勒诺布尔城以后，不愿住在省长公署里，他谢了那位市长，他说：“我要到一个我认识的好汉家里去祝”他去的地方便是三太子旅舍。三太子旅舍的那个拉巴尔所得的荣耀，一直照射到二十五 法里以外的这个柯耳巴十字架旅舍的拉巴尔。城里的人都说他是格勒诺布尔那位的堂兄弟。
②替拿破仑当向导。
③拿破仑，金币名称，相当于二十法郎。

    那人正往这旅舍走去，它是这地方最好的旅舍了。他走进了厨房，厨房的门临街，也象街道一般平。所有的灶都升了火，一炉大火在壁炉里通红地烧着。那旅舍主人，同时也是厨师，从灶心管到锅盏，正忙着照应，为许多车夫预备一顿丰盛的晚餐，他们能听见车夫们在隔壁屋里大声谈笑。凡是旅行过的人都知道再也没有什么人比那些车夫吃得更考究的了。穿在长叉上的一只肥田鼠，夹在一串白竹鸡和一串雄山雉中间，正在火前转动。炉子上还烹着两条乐愁湖的青鱼和一尾阿绿茨湖的鲈鱼。那主人听见门开了，又来了一个新客人，两只眼睛仍望着炉子，也不抬头，他说：“先生要什么？”

    “吃和睡。”那人说。
    “再容易不过了，”主人回答说。此时，他转过头，目光射在旅客身上，又接着说：“??要付钱的呀。”
    那人从他布衫的袋里掏出一只大钱包，回答说：“我有钱。”
    “好，我马上来伺侯您。”主人说。那人把钱包塞回衣袋，取下行囊，放在门边的地上，手里仍拿着木棍，去坐在了火旁边的一张矮凳上。迪涅处在山区，十月的夜晚是很寒冷的。

    但旅舍主人去了又来，来了又去，总在打量这位旅客。“现在有东西吃吗？”那人问。
    “得稍微等一会儿。”旅舍主人说。这时，新来的客人正转过背去烘火，那位好象煞有介事的旅舍主人从衣袋里抽出一支铅笔，又从丢在窗台旁小桌子上的那张旧报纸上撕下一角。他在那白报纸边上写了一两行字，又把这张破纸折好，并不封，交给一个好象是他的厨役同时又是他的跑腿的小伙计。旅舍主人还在那小伙计耳边说了句话，小伙计便朝着市政厅的方向跑去了。

    那旅客一点也没看见这些事。
    他又问了一遍：
    “马上能有东西吃吗？”“还得等一会儿。”旅舍主人说。那孩子回来了。他带回了那张纸。主人急忙把它打开，好象一个等候回音的人，他象是细心地读了一遍，随后又点头，想了想。他终于朝着那似乎心神不大安定的旅客走上一步。“先生，”他说，“我不能接待您。”
    那个人从他的坐位上半挺着身子。
    “怎么！您害怕我不付钱吗？您要不要我先会帐？我有钱呢，我告诉您。”
    “不是为那个。”
    “那么是为什么？”
    “您有钱??”
    “有。”那人说。

    “但是我，”主人说，“我没有房间。”那人和颜悦色地说：“把我安顿在马房里就行了。”“我不能。”
    “为什么？”
    “那些马把所有的地方都占完了。”
    “那么，”那人又说，“阁楼上面的一个角落也行。一捆草就够了。我们吃了饭再看吧。”
    “我不能开饭给您吃。”那个外来人对这种有分寸而又是坚硬的表示感到严重了，他站立起来。

    “哈！笑话！我快饿死了，我。太阳出来，我就走起，走了十二法里①的路程。我又不是不付钱。我要吃。”“我一点东西也没有。”旅舍主人说。
    那汉子放声大笑，转身朝着那炉灶。
①一法里等于四公里。

    “没有东西！那是什么？”“那些东西都是客人定了的。”
    “谁定的？”
    “那些车夫先生定了的。”
    “他们多少人？”
    “十二个人。”
    “那里有够二十个人吃的东西。”

    “那都是预先定好并且付了钱的。”那个人又坐下去，用同样的口吻说：“我已经到了这客栈里，我饿了，我不走。”

    那主人弯下身子，凑到他耳边，用一种使他吃惊的口吻说：“快走。”这时，那旅客弯下腰去了，用他棍子的铁梢拨着火里的红炭，他蓦地转过身来，正要开口反驳，可那旅舍主人的眼睛盯着他，象先头一样低声说：“我说，废话已经说够了。您要我说出您的姓名吗？您叫冉阿让。现在您还要我说出您是什么人吗？您进来时，我一见心里就有些疑惑，我已派人到市政厅去过了，这是那里的回信。您认识字吗？”

    他边那样说，边把那张完全打开了的、从旅舍到市政厅、又从市政厅转回旅舍的纸递给那客人看。客人在纸上瞟了一眼。旅舍主人停了一 会见他不作声，接着又说：“无论对什么人，我素来都是客客气气的，您还是走吧。”那人低下头，拾起他那只放在地上的布袋走了。他沿着那条大街走去。好象一个受了侮辱、满腔委屈的人，他紧挨着墙壁，信步前行。他的头一次也没有回转过。假使他回转头来，他就会看见那柯耳巴十字架的旅舍主人正站在他门口，旅舍里的旅客和路上的行人都围着他，正在那里指手划脚，说长论短；并且从那一堆人惊疑的目光里，他还可以猜想到他的出现不久就会搞得满城风雨。那些经过，他全没瞧见。心情沮丧的人，总是不朝后面看的。他们只感到恶运正追着他们。

    他那样走了一些时候，不停地往前走，信步穿过了许多街道，都是他不认识的，他忘了自身的疲乏，人在颓丧时是经常有这种情况的。忽然，他感到饿得难受。天也要黑了。他向四周望去，想找到一处可以过夜的地方。

    既然那家华丽的旅馆给了他闭门羹，他便想找一家简陋的酒店，一所穷苦的破屋。恰好在那条街的尽头，亮起了一盏灯，在半明半暗的暮色中，显出一根松枝，悬在一块曲铁上。他向那地方走去。那确实是一家酒店。就是沙佛街上的那家酒店。

    那行人停了一阵，从玻璃窗口观望那酒家底层厅房的内部，看见桌上的灯正点着，壁炉里的火也正燃着。几个人在里面喝酒。老板也傍着火。一只挂在吊钩上的铁锅在火焰中烧得发出声响。这家酒店，同时也是一种客栈，它有两扇门，一扇临街，另一扇通往一个粪土混积的小天井。
    那行人不敢由临街的门进去。他先溜进天井，等了一会，才轻轻地提门闩，把门推开。

    “来的是谁？”那老板问。
    “一个想吃晚饭和过夜的人。”

    “好的，这儿有饭吃，也有地方可以祝”他随后进去了。那些正在喝酒的人全都转过头来。他这一面有灯光照着，那一面有火光照着。当他解下那口袋时，大家都打量了他好一会儿。那老板向他说：“这儿有火，晚餐也正在锅里煮着。您来烤烤火吧，伙计。”他走去坐在炉边，把那两只累伤了的脚伸到火前，一阵香味从锅里冒出。他的脸仍被那顶压到眉心的便帽半遮着，当时能辨别出来的，只是一种隐隐约约的舒适神情，同时又搀杂着另外一种因长期苦痛而起的愁容。那是一副坚强有力而又忧郁的侧影。这相貌是罕见的，一眼看去象是谦卑，看到后来，却又严肃。眼睛在眉毛下炯炯发光，正如荆棘丛中的一堆火。当时，在那些围着桌子坐下的人当中有个鱼贩子。他在走进沙佛街这家酒店以前，到过拉巴尔的旅舍，把他的马寄放在马房里，当天早晨他又偶然碰见过这个面恶的外来人，在阿塞湾和??（我已忘了那地名，我想是爱斯古布龙）之间走着。那外来人在遇见他时曾请求让他坐在马臀上，他当时已显得非常困顿了，那鱼贩子却一面支吾着，一面加鞭走了。半个钟头以前，那鱼贩子也正是围着雅甘?拉巴尔那堆人中的一个，并且他亲自把当天早晨那次不愉快的遭遇，告诉了柯耳巴十字架旅舍里的那些人。这时他从他坐的地方向那酒店老板使了个眼色。于是，酒店老板走到他身边，彼此低声交谈了几句。那个赶路的客人却正在想他的心事。

    酒店老板回到壁炉旁边，突然把手放在那人的肩上，向他说：“你得离开此地。”
    那个陌生客人转过身来，低声下气地说：“唉！您知道？”
    “我知道。”
    “他们把我从那个旅舍里撵了出来。”
    “又要把你从这儿赶出去。”
    “您要我到什么地方去呢？
    “到别的地方去。”那人提起他的棍和布袋，走了。

    他走出店门，又遇到几个孩子，扔着石子打他，那群孩子是从柯耳巴十字架跟来，专在门口待他出来的。他狼狈地转回来，扬着棍子作势要打，孩子们也就象一群小鸟似的散了。他走过监狱，监狱的大门上垂着一根拉钟的铁链。他便拉动那口钟。墙上的一个小洞开了。
    “看守先生，”他说，一面恭恭敬敬地脱下他的便帽，“您可愿意开开牢门让我住一宵？”

    有个人的声音回答说：
    “监牢又不是客栈。你得先叫人逮捕你。这门才会替你打开。”那小墙洞又闭上了。

    他走到了一条有许多花园的小街。其中的几处只用篱笆围着，那样会使街道显得更为生机蓬勃。在那些花园和篱笆之间，他看见一所小平房的窗子里有灯光。他从那玻璃窗往里看，正和他先头望那酒店一样。那是一大间用灰浆刷白了的屋子，里面有一张床，床上铺着印花棉布的床单，屋角里有只摇篮，几张木椅，墙上挂着一枝双管熗。屋子中间有桌子，桌上正摆着食物。一盏铜灯照着那块洁白宽大的台布，一把灿烂如银的盛满了酒的锡壳和一只热气腾腾的栗黄汤钵。桌子旁边坐着一个四十岁左右笑容满面的男子，他用膝头颠着一个小孩，逗他跳跃。一个年纪正轻的妇人在他旁边给另外一个婴孩喂奶。父亲笑着，孩子笑着，母亲也微微地笑着。

    这个异乡人在那种温柔宁静的景象前出了一阵神。他心里想着什么？只有他自己才能说得出来。也许他正想着那样一个快乐的家庭应当是愿意招待客人的吧，他在眼前的那片福地上，也许能找得到一点恻隐之心吧。
    他在玻璃窗上极轻地敲了一下。
    没有人听见。他敲第二下。他听见那妇人说：“当家的，好象有人敲门。”
    “没有。”她丈夫回答。他敲第三下。

    那丈夫立起来，拿着灯，走去把门开了。他是一个身材高大、半农半工模样的人。身上围着一件宽大的皮围裙，一直围到他的左肩，围裙里有一个铁锤、一条红手巾、一只火药匣、各式各样的东西，都用一根腰带兜住，在他的肚子上鼓凸起来。他的头朝后仰着，一件翻领衬衫大大敞开，露出了白皙光滑的牛样的脖子。他有浓厚的眉毛，腮帮上留着一大片黑胡须，眼睛不凹，下颏突出，在那副面貌上，有一种说不出的怡然自得的神色。

    “先生，”那过路人说，“请愿谅。假使我出钱，您能给我一盆汤，让我在园里那棚子里的角上睡一宵吗？请您说，您答应吗，假使我出钱的话？”
    “您是谁？”那房子的主人问。那人回答说：“我是从壁马松来的。我走了一整天，我走了十二法里。您同意吗？假使我出钱？”
    “我并不拒绝留宿一个肯付钱的正派人，”那农人说，“但是您为什么不去找客栈呢？”
    “客栈里没有地方了。”

    “笑话！没有的事。今天又不是演杂技的日子，又不是赶集的日子。您到拉巴尔家去过没有？”
    “去过了。”
    “怎样呢？”那过路人感到为难，他回答说：“我不知道，他不肯接待我。”

    “您到沙佛街上那叫做什么的家里去过没有？”那个外来人更感困难了，他吞吞吐吐地说：“他也不肯接待我。”那农民的脸上立刻有了戒惧的神情，他从头到脚打量那陌生人，并且忽然用一种颤栗的声音喊着说：“难道您就是那个人吗？??”他又对那外来人看了一眼，向后退了三步，把灯放在桌上，从墙上取下了他的熗。

    那妇人听见那农民说“难道您就是那个人吗？??”以后，也立了起来，抱着她的两个孩子，赶紧躲在她丈夫背后，惊慌失措地瞧着那个陌生人，敞着胸口，睁大了眼睛，低声说：“佐马洛德。”①这些动作比我们想象的还要快些。屋主把那“人”当作毒蛇打量了一番之后，又回 到门前，说道：“滚！”
①佐马洛德（tso—maraude），法国境内阿尔卑斯山区的方言，即野猫。——作者原注。

    “求您做做好事，”那人又说，“给我一杯水吧！”“给你一熗！”农民说。

    随后他把门使劲关上，那人还听见他推动两条大门闩的声音。过不一会儿，板窗也关上了，一阵上铁闩的声音直传到外面。天越来越黑了。阿尔卑斯山中已刮起了冷风。那个无家可归的人从苍茫的暮色中，望见街边的一个花园里有个茅棚，看上去好象是草墩搭起来的。他下定决心，越过一道木栅栏，便到了那园子里。他朝着那茅棚走去，它的门不过是一个狭而极低的洞，正象那些筑路工人替自己在道旁盖起的那种风雨棚。他当然也认为那真的是一个筑路工人歇脚的地方，现在他感到又冷又饿，实在难受。他虽然已不再希望得到食物，但至少那还是一个避寒之处。那种棚子一般在晚上是没有人住的。他全身躺下，爬了进去。里面相当温暖，地上还铺了一层麦秸。他在那上面躺了一会，他实在太疲倦了，一点也没法动。随后，因为他背上还压着一个口袋，使他很不舒服，再说，这正是一个现成的枕头，他便动手解开那捆口袋的皮带。正在这时，他猛然听见一阵粗暴的声音。他抬起眼睛。黑暗中看见在那茅棚的洞口露出一只很大的狗头。原来那是一个狗窝。

    他自己本来是胆大力壮，威猛无比的人，他拿起他的棍子当作武器，拿着布袋当作藤牌，慢慢地从那狗窝里爬了起来，只是他那身破烂的衣服已变得越发破烂了。
    他又走出花园，那狗逼得他朝后退出去，他不得不运用棍术教师们所谓“盖蔷薇”的那种棍法去对付那条恶狗。
    
    他费尽力气，越过木栅栏，回到了街心，孤零零，没有栖身之处，没有避风雨的地方，连那堆麦秸和那个低贱不堪的狗窝也不容他涉足，他就让自己落（不是坐）在一块石头上，有个过路人似乎听见他骂道：“我连狗也不如了！”不久，他又站起来，往前走。他出了城，希望能在田野中找到一棵树或是一个干草堆，能够靠一下。

    他那样走了一段时间，老低着头。直到他觉得自己已同那些人家离得远了，他才抬起眼睛，四面张望。他已到了田野中，在他前面，有一 片矮丘，丘上覆着齐地割了的麦茬，那矮丘在收获之后就象推光了的头一样。
    天边已全黑了，那不仅是夜间的黑暗，仿佛还有极低的云层，压在那一片矮丘上面，继而又渐渐浮起，满布天空。但是，由于月亮正待升起，穹苍中也还留着一点暮色的余辉，浮云朵朵，在天空构成了一种乳白的圆顶，一线微光从那顶上反射下来。

    因此地面反而比天空显得更亮一些，那是一种特别阴森的景色，那片矮丘的轮廓，荒凉枯瘠，被黑暗的天边衬托得模糊难辨，色泽有如死灰。所有这一切都是丑恶、卑陋、黯淡、无意义的。在那片田野中和矮丘上，空空荡荡，只看见一棵不成形的树，在和这个流浪人相距几步远的地方，蜷曲着它的枝干，摇曳不定。

    显然，这个人在智慧方面和精神方面都谈不上有那些细腻的习惯，因而对事物的神秘现象也就无动于衷；但是当时，在那样的天空中，那样的矮丘上，那样的原野里，那样的树梢头，却有一种惊心动魄的凄凉之意，因此他在凝神伫立一阵之后，就猛然折回头走了。有些人的本能常使他们感到自然界是含有恶意的。他顺着原路回去。迪涅的城门都已关上了。迪涅城在宗教战争①中受过围攻，直到一八一五年，它周围还有着那种加建了方形碉楼的旧城墙，日后才被拆毁。他便经过那样一个缺口回到了城里。
①指十六世纪叶叶法国新旧两派宗教进行的战争。

    当时应该已是晚上八点钟了，因为他不认识街道，他只得信步走去。
    他这样走到了省长公署，过后又到了教士培养所。在经过天主堂广场时，他狠狠地对着天主堂扬起了拳头。在那广场角上有个印刷局。从前拿破仑在厄尔巴岛上亲自口授，继又带回大陆的诏书及《羽林军告军人书》便是在这个印刷局里第一次排印的。

    他已经疲惫不堪，也不再希望什么，便走到那印刷局门前的石凳上躺下来。恰巧有个老妇人从天主堂里出来，她看见这个人躺在黑暗里，便说：“您在这儿干什么，朋友？”他气冲冲地、粗暴地回答说：“您看见的，老太婆，我在睡觉。”那老太婆，确也当得起这个称呼，她是 R侯爵夫人。“睡在这石凳上吗？”她又问。

    “我已经睡了十九年的木板褥子，”那人说，“今天要来睡睡石板褥子了。”
    “您当过兵吗？”    
    “是呀，老太婆。当过兵。”
    “您为什么不到客栈里去？”
    “因为我没有钱。”

    “唉！”R夫人说，“我荷包里也只有四个铜板。”“给我就是。”那人拿了那四个苏。R夫人继续说：“这一点钱，不够您住客栈。不过您去试过没有？您总不能就这样过夜呀。您一定又饿又冷。也许会有人做好事，让您住一宵。”“所有的门我都敲过了。”
    “怎样呢？”
    “没有一个地方不把我撵走。”
    “老太婆”推着那人的胳膊，把广场对面主教院旁边的一所矮房子指给他看。
    “所有的门，”她又说，“您都敲过了？”

    “敲过了。”
    “敲过那扇没有呢？”
    “没有。”
    “去敲那扇去。”

     That evening, the Bishop of D----, after his promenade through the town, remained shut up rather late in his room.He was busy over a great work on Duties, which was never completed, unfortunately.He was carefully compiling everything that the Fathers and the doctors have said on this important subject.His book was divided into two parts:firstly, the duties of all; secondly, the duties of each individual, according to the class to which he belongs. The duties of all are the great duties.There are four of these. Saint Matthew points them out:duties towards God (Matt. vi.); duties towards one's self (Matt. v.29, 30); duties towards one's neighbor (Matt. vii.12); duties towards animals (Matt. vi. 20, 25). As for the other duties the Bishop found them pointed out and prescribed elsewhere:to sovereigns and subjects, in the Epistle to the Romans; to magistrates, to wives, to mothers, to young men, by Saint peter; to husbands, fathers, children and servants, in the Epistle to the Ephesians; to the faithful, in the Epistle to the Hebrews; to virgins, in the Epistle to the Corinthians. Out of these precepts he was laboriously constructing a harmonious whole, which he desired to present to souls.

     At eight o'clock he was still at work, writing with a good deal of inconvenience upon little squares of paper, with a big book open on his knees, when Madame Magloire entered, according to her wont, to get the silver-ware from the cupboard near his bed.A moment later, the Bishop, knowing that the table was set, and that his sister was probably waiting for him, shut his book, rose from his table, and entered the dining-room.

     The dining-room was an oblong apartment, with a fireplace, which had a door opening on the street (as we have said), and a window opening on the garden.

     Madame Magloire was, in fact, just putting the last touches to the table.
     As she performed this service, she was conversing with Mademoiselle Baptistine.
     A lamp stood on the table; the table was near the fireplace. A wood fire was burning there.

     One can easily picture to one's self these two women, both of whom were over sixty years of age.Madame Magloire small, plump, vivacious; Mademoiselle Baptistine gentle, slender, frail, somewhat taller than her brother, dressed in a gown of puce-colored silk, of the fashion of 1806, which she had purchased at that date in paris, and which had lasted ever since.To borrow vulgar phrases, which possess the merit of giving utterance in a single word to an idea which a whole page would hardly suffice to express, Madame Magloire had the air of a peasant, and Mademoiselle Baptistine that of a lady. Madame Magloire wore a white quilted cap, a gold Jeannette cross on a velvet ribbon upon her neck, the only bit of feminine jewelry that there was in the house, a very white fichu puffing out from a gown of coarse black woollen stuff, with large, short sleeves, an apron of cotton cloth in red and green checks, knotted round the waist with a green ribbon, with a stomacher of the same attached by two pins at the upper corners, coarse shoes on her feet, and yellow stockings, like the women of Marseilles.Mademoiselle Baptistine's gown was cut on the patterns of 1806, with a short waist, a narrow, sheath-like skirt, puffed sleeves, with flaps and buttons. She concealed her gray hair under a frizzed wig known as the baby wig. Madame Magloire had an intelligent, vivacious, and kindly air; the two corners of her mouth unequally raised, and her upper lip, which was larger than the lower, imparted to her a rather crabbed and imperious look.So long as Monseigneur held his peace, she talked to him resolutely with a mixture of respect and freedom; but as soon as Monseigneur began to speak, as we have seen, she obeyed passively like her mistress.Mademoiselle Baptistine did not even speak.She confined herself to obeying and pleasing him. She had never been pretty, even when she was young; she had large, blue, prominent eyes, and a long arched nose; but her whole visage, her whole person, breathed forth an ineffable goodness, as we stated in the beginning.She had always been predestined to gentleness; but faith, charity, hope, those three virtues which mildly warm the soul, had gradually elevated that gentleness to sanctity.Nature had made her a lamb, religion had made her an angel.poor sainted virgin! Sweet memory which has vanished!

     Mademoiselle Baptistine has so often narrated what passed at the episcopal residence that evening, that there are many people now living who still recall the most minute details.

     At the moment when the Bishop entered, Madame Magloire was talking with considerable vivacity.She was haranguing Mademoiselle Baptistine on a subject which was familiar to her and to which the Bishop was also accustomed.The question concerned the lock upon the entrance door.

     It appears that while procuring some provisions for supper, Madame Magloire had heard things in divers places.people had spoken of a prowler of evil appearance; a suspicious vagabond had arrived who must be somewhere about the town, and those who should take it into their heads to return home late that night might be subjected to unpleasant encounters.The police was very badly organized, moreover, because there was no love lost between the prefect and the Mayor, who sought to injure each other by making things happen. It behooved wise people to play the part of their own police, and to guard themselves well, and care must be taken to duly close, bar and barricade their houses, and to fasten the doors well.

     Madame Magloire emphasized these last words; but the Bishop had just come from his room, where it was rather cold.He seated himself in front of the fire, and warmed himself, and then fell to thinking of other things.He did not take up the remark dropped with design by Madame Magloire.She repeated it.Then Mademoiselle Baptistine, desirous of satisfying Madame Magloire without displeasing her brother, ventured to say timidly:--

     "Did you hear what Madame Magloire is saying, brother?"
     "I have heard something of it in a vague way," replied the Bishop. Then half-turning in his chair, placing his hands on his knees, and raising towards the old servant woman his cordial face, which so easily grew joyous, and which was illuminated from below by the firelight,--"Come, what is the matter?What is the matter? Are we in any great danger?"

     Then Madame Magloire began the whole story afresh, exaggerating it a little without being aware of the fact.It appeared that a Bohemian, a bare-footed vagabond, a sort of dangerous mendicant, was at that moment in the town.He had presented himself at Jacquin Labarre's to obtain lodgings, but the latter had not been willing to take him in.He had been seen to arrive by the way of the boulevard Gassendi and roam about the streets in the gloaming. A gallows-bird with a terrible face.

     "Really!" said the Bishop.
     This willingness to interrogate encouraged Madame Magloire; it seemed to her to indicate that the Bishop was on the point of becoming alarmed; she pursued triumphantly:--

     "Yes, Monseigneur.That is how it is.There will be some sort of catastrophe in this town to-night. Every one says so.And withal, the police is so badly regulated" (a useful repetition). "The idea of living in a mountainous country, and not even having lights in the streets at night!One goes out.Black as ovens, indeed! And I say, Monseigneur, and Mademoiselle there says with me--"

     "I," interrupted his sister, "say nothing.What my brother does is well done."
     Madame Magloire continued as though there had been no protest:--

     "We say that this house is not safe at all; that if Monseigneur will permit, I will go and tell paulin Musebois, the locksmith, to come and replace the ancient locks on the doors; we have them, and it is only the work of a moment; for I say that nothing is more terrible than a door which can be opened from the outside with a latch by the first passer-by; and I say that we need bolts, Monseigneur, if only for this night; moreover, Monseigneur has the habit of always saying `come in'; and besides, even in the middle of the night, O mon Dieu! there is no need to ask permission."

     At that moment there came a tolerably violent knock on the door.
     "Come in," said the Bishop.

     那天晚上，迪涅的主教先生从城里散步回来，便关上房门，在自己屋子里一直呆到很晚的时候。当时他正在对“义务”问题进行一项巨大的著述工作，可惜没有完成。他开始要把从前那些神甫和博士们就这一 重大问题发表过的言论细心整理出来。他的著述分为两部分；第一部分是大众的义务，第二部分是各个阶层中个人的义务。大众的义务是重要义务。共分四种。根据圣马太的指示，分别分作对天主的义务（《马太福音》第六章），对自己的义务（《马太福音》第五章第二十九、三十 节），对他人的义务（《马太福音》第七章第十二节），对众生的义务（《马太福音》第六章第二十、二十五节），关于其他各种义务，主教又在别的地方搜集了一些关于其他各种义务的指示和规定，人主和臣民的义务，在《罗马人书》里；官吏、妻子、母亲、青年男子的义务，是圣保罗明确规定了的；丈夫、父亲、孩童、仆婢的义务，在《以弗所书》里；信徒的义务，在《希伯来书》里；闺女的义务，在《哥林多书》里。他正苦心孤诣地着手把所有这些条规编成一个协调的整体，以供世人阅读。

    八点钟他还在工作，当马格洛大娘按平时习惯到他床边壁柜里去取银器时，他正在一张小方纸上勉强写着字，因为他膝头上正摊着一本碍手碍脚的厚书。过了一阵，主教觉得餐具已经摆好，他的妹妹也许在等待，他才合上书本，起身走进餐室。

    那餐室是一间长方形的屋子，有个壁炉，门对着街（我们已经说过），窗子对着花园。马格洛大娘刚把餐具摆好。
尽管她忙于工作，却仍在和巴狄斯丁姑娘聊天。

    桌子靠近壁炉，桌上放了一盏灯。炉里正燃着很大的火。我们不难想见那两个都已年逾六十的妇人，马格洛大娘矮孝肥胖、活跃，巴狄斯丁姑娘温和、瘦削、脆弱，比她哥哥稍高一点，穿件蚤色绸袍，那是一八○六年流行的颜色，是她那年在巴黎买的，一直保存到现在。如果我们用粗俗的字眼来说（有些思想往往写上一页还说不清楚，可是单用一个俗字便可表达出来），马格洛大娘的神气象个“村婆”，巴狄斯丁姑娘却象“夫人”。马格洛大娘戴顶白楞边帽，颈上挂了个小金十字，算是这家里独一无二的首饰了。她身穿玄青粗呢袍，袖子宽而短，领口里露出一条雪白的围脖，一根绿带子拦腰束住一条红绿方块花纹的棉布围裙，外加一块同样布料的胸巾，用别针扣住上面的两只角，脚上穿双马赛妇女穿的那种大鞋和黄袜。巴狄斯丁姑娘的袍子是照一八○六年的式样裁剪的，上身短，腰围紧，双肩高耸，盘花扣绊。她用一 顶孩童式的波状假发遮着自己的斑白头发。马格洛大娘的神气是伶俐、活泼、善良的，她的两只嘴角，一高一低，上唇厚，下唇薄，使她显得怫郁和躁急。只要主教不说话，她总用一种恭敬而又不拘形迹的态度和他谈个不休；主教一开口，她又和那位姑娘一样，变得服服贴贴唯命是从了，这是大家都见过的。巴狄斯丁姑娘则连话也不说。她谨守在听命与承欢的范围以内。即使是少年时期她也并不漂亮，她的蓝眼睛鼓齐面部，鼻子长而曲；但是她的整个面庞和整个人都含有一种说不出的贤淑气度，那是我们在开始时说过的。她生性仁厚，而信仰、慈悲、愿望，这三种使心灵温暖的美德，又慢慢把那种仁厚升为圣德了。她天生就是一头驯羊，宗教却已使她成为天使。可怜的圣女！不可复得的甜美的回忆！

    巴狄斯丁姑娘曾把当天晚上发生过在主教院里的那些事对人传述过无数次，以致几个现在还活着的人，都还记得极其详荆主教先生走进来时，马格洛大娘正在兴高采烈地说着话。她正和“姑娘”谈着一个她所熟悉而主教也听惯了的问题，那就是关于大门的门闩问题。

    好象是马格洛大娘在买晚餐食料时，在好几处听见了许多闲语。大家说来了一个形状古怪的宵小之徒，一个形迹可疑的恶棍，他大约已经到了城里的某个地方，今晚准备深夜回家的人也许会遭殃，而且警务又搞得很差，省长和市长又互不相容，彼此都想弄出一些事来，好嫁祸于人。所以聪明人只有自己负起警察的责任，好好地保护自己，并且应当小心，把各人的房子好好地关紧，闩起，堵住，尤其要好好地把各人的房门关上。

    马格洛大娘把最后那句话说得格外响亮些，但是主教从他那间冷冰冰的屋子里走进来，坐在壁炉面前烤着火，又想着别的事了。他没让马格洛大娘刚才说的话发生影响。她只得再说一遍，于是巴狄斯丁姑娘为了想挽救马格洛大娘的面子而又不触犯哥哥，便冒着险，轻声说道：“哥，您听见马格洛大娘说的话没有？”

    “我多少听见了一点。”主教回答说。随后，他把椅子转过一半，两手放在膝上，炉火也正从下面照着他那张笑容可掬的诚恳面孔，他抬起头对着那年老的女仆说：“好端端的.有什么事？有什么事？难道我们有什么大不了的危险？”于是马格洛大娘又把整个故事从头说起，无意中也不免稍稍添油加醋。据说有一个游民，一个赤脚大汉，一个恶叫化子这时已到了城里。

    他到过雅甘?拉巴尔家里去求宿，拉巴尔不肯收留他，有人看见他沿着加桑第大路走来，在街上迷雾里游来荡去。他是一个有袋子、有绳子、面孔凶恶的人。
    “真的吗？”主教说。

    他既然肯向她探询，马格洛大娘自然更起劲了，在她看来，这好象表明主教已有意戒备了，她洋洋得意地赶着说：“是呀，主教。真是这样的。今天晚上城里一定要出乱子。大家都这样说。加上警务又搞得那么坏（这是值得再提到的）。住在山区里，到了夜里，街上连路灯也没有！出了门就是一个黑洞。我说过，主教，那边的姑娘也这样说??”“我，”妹妹岔着说，“我没有意见。我哥做的事总是好的。”马格洛大娘仍继续说下去，好象没有人反对过她一样：“我们说这房子一 点都不安全，如果主教准许，我就去找普兰?缪斯博瓦铜匠，要他来把从前那些铁门闩重新装上去，那些东西都在，不过是一分钟的事，我还要说，主教，就是为了今天这一夜也应当有铁门闩，因为，我说，一扇只有活闩的门，不管什么人都可以从外面推开进来，再没有比这更可怕的事了，加以主教平素总是让人随意进出，况且，就是在夜半，呵，我的天主！也不用先得许可??”这时，有人在门上敲了一下，并且敲得很凶。

    “请进。”主教说。

     The door opened.
     It opened wide with a rapid movement, as though some one had given it an energetic and resolute push.
     A man entered.
     We already know the man.It was the wayfarer whom we have seen wandering about in search of shelter.

     He entered, advanced a step, and halted, leaving the door open behind him.He had his knapsack on his shoulders, his cudgel in his hand, a rough, audacious, weary, and violent expression in his eyes.The fire on the hearth lighted him up.He was hideous. It was a sinister apparition.
     Madame Magloire had not even the strength to utter a cry. She trembled, and stood with her mouth wide open.

     Mademoiselle Baptistine turned round, beheld the man entering, and half started up in terror; then, turning her head by degrees towards the fireplace again, she began to observe her brother, and her face became once more profoundly calm and serene.
     The Bishop fixed a tranquil eye on the man.

     As he opened his mouth, doubtless to ask the new-comer what he desired, the man rested both hands on his staff, directed his gaze at the old man and the two women, and without waiting for the Bishop to speak, he said, in a loud voice:--

     "See here.My name is Jean Valjean.I am a convict from the galleys. I have passed nineteen years in the galleys.I was liberated four days ago, and am on my way to pontarlier, which is my destination. I have been walking for four days since I left Toulon.I have travelled a dozen leagues to-day on foot.This evening, when I arrived in these parts, I went to an inn, and they turned me out, because of my yellow passport, which I had shown at the town-hall. I had to do it.I went to an inn.They said to me, `Be off,' at both places.No one would take me.I went to the prison; the jailer would not admit me.I went into a dog's kennel; the dog bit me and chased me off, as though he had been a man. One would have said that he knew who I was.I went into the fields, intending to sleep in the open air, beneath the stars.There were no stars.I thought it was going to rain, and I re-entered the town, to seek the recess of a doorway.Yonder, in the square, I meant to sleep on a stone bench.A good woman pointed out your house to me, and said to me, `Knock there!'I have knocked. What is this place?Do you keep an inn?I have money--savings. One hundred and nine francs fifteen sous, which I earned in the galleys by my labor, in the course of nineteen years. I will pay.What is that to me?I have money.I am very weary; twelve leagues on foot; I am very hungry.Are you willing that I should remain?"

     "Madame Magloire," said the Bishop, "you will set another place."

     The man advanced three paces, and approached the lamp which was on the table."Stop," he resumed, as though he had not quite understood; "that's not it.Did you hear?I am a galley-slave; a convict. I come from the galleys."He drew from his pocket a large sheet of yellow paper, which he unfolded."Here's my passport.Yellow, as you see.This serves to expel me from every place where I go. Will you read it?I know how to read.I learned in the galleys. There is a school there for those who choose to learn.Hold, this is what they put on this passport:`Jean Valjean, discharged convict, native of'--that is nothing to you--`has been nineteen years in the galleys:five years for house-breaking and burglary; fourteen years for having attempted to escape on four occasions. He is a very dangerous man.'There!Every one has cast me out. Are you willing to receive me?Is this an inn?Will you give me something to eat and a bed?Have you a stable?"

     "Madame Magloire," said the Bishop, "you will put white sheets on the bed in the alcove."We have already explained the character of the two women's obedience.
     Madame Magloire retired to execute these orders.
     The Bishop turned to the man.
     "Sit down, sir, and warm yourself.We are going to sup in a few moments, and your bed will be prepared while you are supping."

     At this point the man suddenly comprehended.The expression of his face, up to that time sombre and harsh, bore the imprint of stupefaction, of doubt, of joy, and became extraordinary. He began stammering like a crazy man:--

     "Really?What!You will keep me?You do not drive me forth? A convict!You call me sir!You do not address me as thou? `Get out of here, you dog!' is what people always say to me.I felt sure that you would expel me, so I told you at once who I am.Oh, what a good woman that was who directed me hither!I am going to sup! A bed with a mattress and sheets, like the rest of the world! a bed! It is nineteen years since I have slept in a bed!You actually do not want me to go!You are good people.Besides, I have money. I will pay well.pardon me, monsieur the inn-keeper, but what is your name?I will pay anything you ask.You are a fine man. You are an inn-keeper, are you not?"

     "I am," replied the Bishop, "a priest who lives here."
     "A priest!" said the man."Oh, what a fine priest!Then you are not going to demand any money of me?You are the cure, are you not? the cure of this big church?Well!I am a fool, truly! I had not perceived your skull-cap."

     As he spoke, he deposited his knapsack and his cudgel in a corner, replaced his passport in his pocket, and seated himself. Mademoiselle Baptistine gazed mildly at him.He continued:
     "You are humane, Monsieur le Cure; you have not scorned me. A good priest is a very good thing.Then you do not require me to pay?"
     "No," said the Bishop; "keep your money.How much have you? Did you not tell me one hundred and nine francs?"

     "And fifteen sous," added the man.
     "One hundred and nine francs fifteen sous.And how long did it take you to earn that?"
     "Nineteen years."
     "Nineteen years!"
     The Bishop sighed deeply.

     The man continued:"I have still the whole of my money. In four days I have spent only twenty-five sous, which I earned by helping unload some wagons at Grasse.Since you are an abbe, I will tell you that we had a chaplain in the galleys.And one day I saw a bishop there.Monseigneur is what they call him.He was the Bishop of Majore at Marseilles.He is the cure who rules over the other cures, you understand.pardon me, I say that very badly; but it is such a far-off thing to me!You understand what we are! He said mass in the middle of the galleys, on an altar.He had a pointed thing, made of gold, on his head; it glittered in the bright light of midday.We were all ranged in lines on the three sides, with cannons with lighted matches facing us.We could not see very well.He spoke; but he was too far off, and we did not hear. That is what a bishop is like."

     While he was speaking, the Bishop had gone and shut the door, which had remained wide open.
     Madame Magloire returned.She brought a silver fork and spoon, which she placed on the table.
     "Madame Magloire," said the Bishop, "place those things as near the fire as possible."And turning to his guest:"The night wind is harsh on the Alps.You must be cold, sir."

     Each time that he uttered the word sir, in his voice which was so gently grave and polished, the man's face lighted up.Monsieur to a convict is like a glass of water to one of the shipwrecked of the Medusa. Ignominy thirsts for consideration.
     "This lamp gives a very bad light," said the Bishop.

     Madame Magloire understood him, and went to get the two silver candlesticks from the chimney-piece in Monseigneur's bed-chamber, and placed them, lighted, on the table.
     "Monsieur le Cure," said the man, "you are good; you do not despise me. You receive me into your house.You light your candles for me. Yet
     I have not concealed from you whence I come and that I am an unfortunate man."

     The Bishop, who was sitting close to him, gently touched his hand. "You could not help telling me who you were.This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ.This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome. And do not thank me; do not say that I receive you in my house. No one is at home here, except the man who needs a refuge. I say to you, who are passing by, that you are much more at home here than I am myself.Everything here is yours.What need have I to know your name?Besides, before you told me you had one which I knew."

     The man opened his eyes in astonishment.
     "Really?You knew what I was called?"
     "Yes," replied the Bishop, "you are called my brother."
     "Stop, Monsieur le Cure," exclaimed the man."I was very hungry when I entered here; but you are so good, that I no longer know what has happened to me."
     The Bishop looked at him, and said,--

     "You have suffered much?"
     "Oh, the red coat, the ball on the ankle, a plank to sleep on, heat, cold, toil, the convicts, the thrashings, the double chain for nothing, the cell for one word; even sick and in bed, still the chain!Dogs, dogs are happier!Nineteen years!I am forty-six. Now there is the yellow passport.That is what it is like."

     "Yes," resumed the Bishop, "you have come from a very sad place. Listen.There will be more joy in heaven over the tear-bathed face of a repentant sinner than over the white robes of a hundred just men. If you emerge from that sad place with thoughts of hatred and of wrath against mankind, you are deserving of pity; if you emerge with thoughts of good-will and of peace, you are more worthy than any one of us."

     In the meantime, Madame Magloire had served supper:soup, made with water, oil, bread, and salt; a little bacon, a bit of mutton, figs, a fresh cheese, and a large loaf of rye bread.She had, of her own accord, added to the Bishop's ordinary fare a bottle of his old Mauves wine.
     The Bishop's face at once assumed that expression of gayety which is peculiar to hospitable natures."To table!" he cried vivaciously. As was his custom when a stranger supped with him, he made the man sit on his right.Mademoiselle Baptistine, perfectly peaceable and natural, took her seat at his left.

     The Bishop asked a blessing; then helped the soup himself, according to his custom.The man began to eat with avidity.
     All at once the Bishop said:"It strikes me there is something missing on this table."

     Madame Magloire had, in fact, only placed the three sets of forks and spoons which were absolutely necessary.Now, it was the usage of the house, when the Bishop had any one to supper, to lay out the whole six sets of silver on the table-cloth--an innocent ostentation. This graceful semblance of luxury was a kind of child's play, which was full of charm in that gentle and severe household, which raised poverty into dignity.

     Madame Magloire understood the remark, went out without saying a word, and a moment later the three sets of silver forks and spoons demanded by the Bishop were glittering upon the cloth, symmetrically arranged before the three persons seated at the table.

     门开了。门一下子便大大地开了，好象有人使出了大劲和决心在推它似的。有个人进来了。这人我们已经认识，便是我们刚才见过，到处求宿的那个过路人。他走进来，向前跨上一步，停下，让门在他背后敞着。他的肩上有个布袋，手里有根木棍，眼睛里有种粗鲁、放肆、困惫和强悍的神情。壁炉里的火正照着他，他那样子真是凶恶可怕，简直就是恶魔的化身。马格洛大娘连叫喊的力气都没有了。她大吃一惊，变得目瞪口呆。巴狄斯丁姑娘回头瞧见那人朝门里走，吓得站不直身子，过了一会才慢慢地转过头去，对着壁炉，望着她哥，她的面色又转成深沉恬静的了。

    主教用镇静的目光看着那个人。他正要开口问那新来的人需要什么，那人双手抓在他的棍子，来回地看着老人和两个妇人，不等主教开口，便大声说：“请听我说。我叫冉阿让。我是个苦役犯。在监牢里过了十九年。出狱四天了，现在我要去蓬塔利埃，那是我的目的地。我从土伦走来，已经走了四天了，我今天一天就走了十二法里。天黑时才到这地方，我到过一家客店，只因为我在市政厅请验了黄护照，就被人赶了出来。而那又是非请验不可的。我又走到另外一家客店。他们对我说：‘滚！’这家不要我。那家也不要我。我又到了监狱，看门的人也不肯开门。我也到过狗窝。那狗咬了我，也把我撵了出来，好象它也是人一样，好象它也知道我是谁一样。我便跑到田野里，打算露天过一宵。可是天上没有星星。我想天要下雨了，又没有好天主来阻挡下雨，我再回到城里，想找个门洞。那边，在那空地里，有一块石板，我正躺下去，一个婆婆把您这房子指给我看，对我说：‘你去敲敲那扇门。’我已经敲过了。这是什么地方？是客店吗？我有钱。我有积蓄。一百○九个法郎十五个苏，我在监牢里用十九 年的工夫作工赚来的。可以付帐。那有什么关系？我有钱。我困极了，走了十二法里，我饿得很。您肯让我歇下吗？”

    “马格洛大娘，”主教说，“加一副刀叉。”
    那人走了三步，靠近台上的那盏灯。“不是，”他说，仿佛他没有听懂一般，“不是这个意思。您听见了没有？我是一个苦役犯，一个罚作苦役的罪犯。我是刚从牢里出来的。”他从衣袋里抽出一张大黄纸，展开说：“这就是我的护照。黄的，您瞧。这东西害得我处处被人撵。您要念吗？我能念，我，我在牢里念过书。那里有个学校，愿意读书的人都可以进去。您听吧，这就是写在纸上的话：‘冉阿让，苦役犯，刑满释放，原籍??’您不一定要知道我是什么地方人，‘处狱中凡十九 年。计穿墙行窃，五年。四次企图越狱，十四年。为人异常险狠。’就这样！大家都把我撵出来，您肯收留我吗？您这是客店吗？您肯给我吃，给我睡吗？您有一间马房没有？”

    “马格洛大娘，”主教说，“您在壁厢里的床上铺一条白床单。”我们已解释过那两个妇人的服从性是怎样的。
    马格洛大娘马上出去执行指令。
    主教转过身来，朝着那人。
    “先生，请坐，烤烤火。等一会儿，我们就吃晚饭，您吃饭的时候，您的床也就会预备好的。”

    到这时，那人才完全懂了。他的那张一向阴沉严厉的面孔显出惊讶、疑惑和欢乐，变得很奇特，他好象一个疯子，低声慢气地说：“真的呀？怎么，您留我吗？您不撵我走！一个苦役犯！您叫我做‘先生’！和我说话，您不用‘你’字。‘滚！狗东西！’人家总那样叫我。我还以为您一定会撵我走呢。并且我一上来就说明我是谁。呵！那个好婆婆，她把这地方告诉了我。我有晚饭吃了！有床睡了！一张有褥子、垫单的床！和旁人一样！十九年我都没有睡在床上了，您当真不要我走！您是有天良的人！并且我有钱。我自然要付帐的。对不起，客店老板先生，您贵姓？随便您要多少，我都照付。您是个好人。您是客店老板，不是吗？”
    “我是一个住在这里的神甫。”主教说。

    “一个神甫！”那人说。“呵，好一个神甫！那么您不要我的钱吗？本堂神甫，是吗？那个大教堂里的本堂神甫。对呀！真是，我多么蠢，我刚才还没有注意看您的小帽子！”
    他一面说，一面把布袋和棍子放在屋角里，随后又把护照插进衣袋，然后坐下去，巴狄斯丁姑娘和蔼地瞧着他。他继续说：“您是有人道的，本堂神甫先生。您没有瞧不起人的心。一个好神甫真是好。那么您不要我付帐吗？”

    “不用付帐。”主教说，“留着您的钱吧。您有多少？您没有说过一百○九个法郎吗？”
    “还得加上十五个苏。”那人说。
    “一百○九个法郎十五个苏。您花了多少时间赚来的？”“十九年。”

    “十九年！”主教深深地叹了一口气。那人接着说：“我的钱，全都在。这四天里我只用了二十五个苏，那二十五个苏是我在格拉斯地方帮着卸车上的货物赚来的。您既是神甫，我就得和您说说，从前在我们牢里有个布道神甫。一天，我又看见一个主教。大家都称他做‘主教大人’。那是马赛马若尔教堂的主教。他是一些神甫头上的神甫。请您原谅，您知道，我不会说话；对我来说，实在说不好！您知道，象我们这种人！他在监狱里一个祭台上做过弥撒，头上有个尖的金玩意儿。在中午的阳光里，那玩意儿照得好亮。我们一行行排着，三面围着。在我们的前面，有许多大炮，引火绳子也点着了。我们看不大清楚。他对我们讲话，但是他站得太靠里了，我们听不见。那样的就是一个主教。”他谈着，主教走去关上那扇还敞着的门。

    马格洛大娘又进来，拿着一套餐具，摆在桌子上。
    “马格洛大娘，”主教说，“您把这套餐具摆在靠近火的地方。”他又转过去朝着他的客人：“阿尔卑斯山里的夜风是够受的。先生，您大约很冷吧？”每次他用他那种柔和严肃、诚意待客的声音说出“先生”那两个字时，那人总是喜形于色。“先生”对于罪犯，正象一杯水对于墨杜萨①的遇难者。蒙羞的人都渴望着别人的尊重。“这盏灯，”主教说，“太不亮了。”
①墨杜萨（Meduse），船名，一八一六年七月二日在距非洲西岸四十海里地方遇险。一百四十九名旅客乘木排，在海上飘了十二天，旅客多因饥渴死去。获救者十五人。


    马格洛大娘会意，走到主教的卧室里，从壁炉上拿了那两个银烛台，点好放在桌上。
    “神甫先生，”那人说，“您真好。您并不瞧不起我。您让我住在您的家里，您为我点起蜡烛。我并没有瞒您我是从哪里来的，也没有瞒您我是一个倒霉蛋。”
    主教坐在他身旁，轻轻按着他的手。

    “您不用向我说您是谁。这并不是我的房子，这是耶稣基督的房子。这扇门并不问走进来的人有没有名字，但是要问他是否有痛苦。您有痛苦，您又饿又渴，您安心留下吧。并且不应该谢我，不应该说我把您留在我的家里。除非是需要住处的人，谁也不是在自己家里。您是过路的人，我告诉您，与其说我是在我的家里，还不如说您是在您的家里。这儿所有的东西都是您的。我为什么要知道您的名字呢？并且在您把您的名字告诉我以前，你已经有了一个名字，是我早就知道了的。”

    那个人睁圆了眼，有些莫名其妙。
    “真的吗？您早已知道我的名字吗？”
    “对，”主教回答说，“您的名字叫‘我的兄弟’。”“真怪，神甫先生，”那人叫着说，“我进来时肚子真的很饿，但是您这么好，我已经不知道饿了，我已经不饿了。”主教望着他，向他说：“您吃过很多苦吧？”

    “穿红衣，脚上拖铁球，睡觉只有一块木板，受热，受冷，做苦工，编到苦囚队里，挨棍棒！不犯什么事也得拖上夹链条。说错一个字就关进黑屋子。病在床上也得拖着链子，狗，狗还快乐些呢！十九年！我已经四十六岁了。现在还得带张黄护照，就这样。”

    “是呀，”主教说，“您是从苦地方出来的。您听吧。一个流着泪忏悔的罪人在天上所得的快乐，比一百个穿白衣的善人还更能获得上天的喜爱呢。您从那样一个苦地方出来，如果还有愤怒憎恨别人的心，那您真是值得可怜的；如果您怀着善心、仁爱、和平的思想，那您就比我们中的任何人都还高贵些。”马格洛大娘把晚餐开出来了。一盆用白开水、植物油、面包和盐做的汤，还有一点咸肉、一块羊肉、无花果、新鲜乳酪和一大块黑麦面包。她在主教先生的日常食物之外，主动加了一 瓶陈年母福酒。

    主教的脸上忽然起了好客的人所特有的那种愉快神情。“请坐。”他连忙说。如同平日留客晚餐一样，他请那人坐在他的右边，巴狄斯丁姑娘，完全宁静自如，坐在他的左边。

    主教依照他的习惯，先做祷告，再亲手分汤。那人贪婪地吃了起来。主教忽然说：“桌上好象少了一件东西。”马格洛大娘的确没有摆上那三副绝不可少的餐具。照这一家人的习惯，主教留客晚餐时，总得在台布上陈设上那六份银器，这其实是一种可有可无的摆设。那种温雅的假奢华是这一家人的一种饶有情趣的稚气，把清寒的景象提高到富丽的气派。马格洛大娘懂了他的意思，一声不响，走了出去，不大一会，主教要的那三副食具，齐齐整整地摆到了三位进餐人的面前，在台布上面熠熠生辉。

     Now, in order to convey an idea of what passed at that table, we cannot do better than to transcribe here a passage from one of Mademoiselle Baptistine's letters to Madame Boischevron, wherein the conversation between the convict and the Bishop is described with ingenious minuteness.

     ". . . This man paid no attention to any one.He ate with the voracity of a starving man.However, after supper he said:
     "`Monsieur le Cure of the good God, all this is far too good for me; but I must say that the carters who would not allow me to eat with them keep a better table than you do.'

     "Between ourselves, the remark rather shocked me.My brother replied:--
     "`They are more fatigued than I.'
     "`No,' returned the man, `they have more money.You are poor; I see that plainly.You cannot be even a curate.Are you really a cure?Ah, if the good God were but just, you certainly ought to be a cure!'

     "`The good God is more than just,' said my brother.
     "A moment later he added:--
     "`Monsieur Jean Valjean, is it to pontarlier that you are going?'
     "`With my road marked out for me.'
     "I think that is what the man said.Then he went on:--
     "`I must be on my way by daybreak to-morrow. Travelling is hard. If the nights are cold, the days are hot.'

     "`You are going to a good country,' said my brother.`During the Revolution my family was ruined.I took refuge in Franche-Comte at first, and there I lived for some time by the toil of my hands. My will was good.I found plenty to occupy me.One has only to choose. There are paper mills, tanneries, distilleries, oil factories, watch factories on a large scale, steel mills, copper works, twenty iron foundries at least, four of which, situated at Lods, at Chatillon, at Audincourt, and at Beure, are tolerably large.'

     "I think I am not mistaken in saying that those are the names which my brother mentioned.Then he interrupted himself and addressed me:--
     "`Have we not some relatives in those parts, my dear sister?'
     "I replied,--
     "`We did have some; among others, M. de Lucenet, who was captain of the gates at pontarlier under the old regime.'

     "`Yes,' resumed my brother; `but in '93, one had no longer any relatives, one had only one's arms.I worked.They have, in the country of pontarlier, whither you are going, Monsieur Valjean, a truly patriarchal and truly charming industry, my sister. It is their cheese-dairies, which they call fruitieres.'

     "Then my brother, while urging the man to eat, explained to him, with great minuteness, what these fruitieres of pontarlier were; that they were divided into two classes:the big barns which belong to the rich, and where there are forty or fifty cows which produce from seven to eight thousand cheeses each summer, and the associated fruitieres, which belong to the poor; these are the peasants of mid-mountain, who hold their cows in common, and share the proceeds. `They engage the services of a cheese-maker, whom they call the grurin; the grurin receives the milk of the associates three times a day, and marks the quantity on a double tally.It is towards the end of April that the work of the cheese-dairies begins; it is towards the middle of June that the cheese-makers drive their cows to the mountains.'

     "The man recovered his animation as he ate.My brother made him drink that good Mauves wine, which he does not drink himself, because he says that wine is expensive.My brother imparted all these details with that easy gayety of his with which you are acquainted, interspersing his words with graceful attentions to me.He recurred frequently to that comfortable trade of grurin, as though he wished the man to understand, without advising him directly and harshly, that this would afford him a refuge.One thing struck me. This man was what I have told you.Well, neither during supper, nor during the entire evening, did my brother utter a single word, with the exception of a few words about Jesus when he entered, which could remind the man of what he was, nor of what my brother was. To all appearances, it was an occasion for preaching him a little sermon, and of impressing the Bishop on the convict, so that a mark of the passage might remain behind.This might have appeared to any one else who had this, unfortunate man in his hands to afford a chance to nourish his soul as well as his body, and to bestow upon him some reproach, seasoned with moralizing and advice, or a little commiseration, with an exhortation to conduct himself better in the future. My brother did not even ask him from what country he came, nor what was his history.For in his history there is a fault, and my brother seemed to avoid everything which could remind him of it.To such a point did he carry it, that at one time, when my brother was speaking of the mountaineers of pontarlier, who exercise a gentle labor near heaven, and who, he added, are happy because they are innocent, he stopped short, fearing lest in this remark there might have escaped him something which might wound the man. By dint of reflection, I think I have comprehended what was passing in my brother's heart.He was thinking, no doubt, that this man, whose name is Jean Valjean, had his misfortune only too vividly present in his mind; that the best thing was to divert him from it, and to make him believe, if only momentarily, that he was a person like any other, by treating him just in his ordinary way.Is not this indeed, to understand charity well?Is there not, dear Madame, something truly evangelical in this delicacy which abstains from sermon, from moralizing, from allusions? and is not the truest pity, when a man has a sore point, not to touch it at all?It has seemed to me that this might have been my brother's private thought. In any case, what I can say is that, if he entertained all these ideas, he gave no sign of them; from beginning to end, even to me he was the same as he is every evening, and he supped with this Jean Valjean with the same air and in the same manner in which he would have supped with M. Gedeon le provost, or with the curate of the parish.

     "Towards the end, when he had reached the figs, there came a knock at the door.It was Mother Gerbaud, with her little one in her arms. My brother kissed the child on the brow, and borrowed fifteen sous which I had about me to give to Mother Gerbaud.The man was not paying much heed to anything then.He was no longer talking, and he seemed very much fatigued.After poor old Gerbaud had taken her departure, my brother said grace; then he turned to the man and said to him, `You must be in great need of your bed.'Madame Magloire cleared the table very promptly.I understood that we must retire, in order to allow this traveller to go to sleep, and we both went up stairs.Nevertheless, I sent Madame Magloire down a moment later, to carry to the man's bed a goat skin from the Black Forest, which was in my room.The nights are frigid, and that keeps one warm. It is a pity that this skin is old; all the hair is falling out. My brother bought it while he was in Germany, at Tottlingen, near the sources of the Danube, as well as the little ivory-handled knife which I use at table.

     "Madame Magloire returned immediately.We said our prayers in the drawing-room, where we hang up the linen, and then we each retired to our own chambers, without saying a word to each other."

     现在，为了把那餐桌上发生的事概略谈谈，最好是把巴狄斯丁姑娘写给波瓦舍佛隆夫人的信中的一段抄下来，那苦役犯和主教的谈话，在信中都有坦率而细致的叙述。

     “那人对谁也不注意。他饿鬼一样贪婪地吃着。吃完汤以后，他说：“‘慈悲上帝的神甫先生，这一切东西对我来说还真是太好了，但是我还是得说，不愿和我一道吃饭的那些车夫，比您还吃得好些呢。’“私下说一句，我觉得这种比较有点刺耳。我哥答道：“‘他们要比我疲劳些。’“‘不，’那人接着说，‘他们的钱多些。您穷。我看得出来。

     您也许连本堂神甫也还不是吧。您只是一个普通神甫吧？岂有此理，如果慈悲上帝是公平的话，您理该当个神甫。’“‘公平两字远远不能全部表达慈悲上帝的好处。’我哥说。“过了一会，他又说：“‘冉阿让先生，您是要到蓬塔利埃去吗？’“‘那是指定的路程。’“我想他准是那样说的。随后他接下去说：“‘明天一早我就得动身。这段路是很难走的。

     晚上冷，白天却很热。’“‘您去的地方倒是个好地方，’我哥说，‘我家在革命时期破了产，起初我躲在法兰什?康地，靠自己的两条胳膊作工度日。我的毅力好。在那里我找到很多工作，只要我们肯去选择的话。有造纸厂、制革厂、蒸馏厂、榨油厂、规模很大的钟表制造厂、炼钢厂、炼铜厂，铁工厂就至少有二十个，其中四个在洛慈、夏蒂荣、奥当库尔和白尔，这些厂都是很大的。’

     “我想我没有弄错吧，我哥说的那些名字一定就是这几个了，随后他自己又把话打断，对我说：“‘亲爱的妹妹，我们有些亲戚是住在那里的吗？”“我回答说：“‘我们从前是有过的，在那些亲戚里有德?吕司内先生，革命之前，他是蓬塔利埃的卫戌司令。’“‘对的，’我哥接着说，‘但到了九三年大家都没有亲戚了，都只是靠自己的两只手。

     我做过工。在蓬塔利埃，您，冉阿让先生，将要去的那地方，有一种历史悠久而极有意思的实业，这就是我的妹他们叫做果品厂的那些乳酪厂。’“于是我哥边劝那人吃，边把蓬塔利埃果品厂的情况很详细地讲给他听。

     厂分两种，‘大仓’是富人的，里面有四十或五十头母牛，每个夏季可以产七千到八千个酪饼；还有合作果品厂，是穷人的，半山里的乡下人把他们的牛合起来大伙公养，产品也由大伙分享。他们雇用一个制酪工人，管他叫格鲁阑；格鲁阑把各会友的牛乳收下来，每天三次，同时把数量记在双合板上。四月末，乳酪厂的工作开始；六月中，那些制酪工人就把他们的牛牵进山里去了。

     “那人一面吃，一面精神也振作起来了。我哥拿那种好的母福酒让他喝，他却不愿喝，因为他说那种酒贵。我哥带着您所了解的那种怡然自得的愉快神情，把那些琐事讲给他听，谈时还不时显露出殷勤的态度。

     他再三重复说那些格鲁阑的情况良好，好象他既迫切希望那人能懂得那是个安身的好地方，而又感到不便直截了当开导他似的。有件事给了我强烈的印象。那人的来历我已向您说过了，可是，我的哥，在晚餐期间直到就寝之前，除了在他刚进门时说了几句关于耶稣的话以外，再也没有说过一个字，能让那人意识到自己是什么人，也没有一个字能让那人看出我的哥是什么人。

     在那种场合，似乎很值得告诫他几句，并且可以把主教压在罪犯的头上，暂时给他留下一个印象。如果是别人碰上了这样一个可怜人，他也许会认为，在给以物质食粮的同时，还应当给以精神食粮，不妨在谴责当中附带教训开导一番，或是说些怜惜的话勉励他以后好好做人。我哥却连他的籍贯和经历都没有问。

     因为在他的过去里，有他的过失，我哥仿佛要避免所有会使他忆起那些事的话。他谈到蓬塔利埃的山民，只说他们接近青天，工作舒适。他还说他们快乐，因为他们没有罪过，正说到这儿，他突然停了下来，唯恐他无心说出的那两个字含有要触犯那人的意思。我仔细琢磨以后，自信领会了我哥的心思。他心里想，那个叫作冉阿让的人，心中苦恼太多了，最好是装出完全没有事的样子，使他感到轻松自在，使他认为他是和别人一样的一个人。那样，即使只是片刻，也是好的。

     那岂不是对慈善的最深切的了解吗？我慈祥的夫人，他那样撇开告诫、教训、暗示，岂不正是体贴入微，确实高明无比吗？人有痛处，最好的爱护，难道不是绝不去碰它吗？我想这或者就是我哥心里的想法了。不管如何，我可以说，即使他有过那些心思，就是对我也未曾流露过，自始至终，他完全是平时那个人，那晚他和冉阿让进餐，正和他陪着瑞德翁?勒普莱服先生或是总司铎管辖区的司铎进晚餐一样。

     “晚餐快完，大家正吃着无花果时，有个人来敲门。那是瑞波妈妈，手里抱着她的小孩。我哥吻了那孩子的额头，向我借去身上的十五个苏，给了瑞波妈妈。那人到了这时候，已经不大留心，注意力也已不怎么集中了。他不再说话，显得很疲倦。可怜的老瑞波走了之后，我哥念了谢食文，随后又转过身去，向那人说：‘您可能很需要上床休息了。’马格洛大娘赶紧收拾桌子。我知道我们应当走开，让那旅客去休息，两个人便一同上了楼。过了一阵，我又叫马格洛大娘把我房里的那张黑森林麂子皮送到那人的床上。夜里冰冷，那东西可以御寒。可惜那张皮已经旧了，毛已落光。它是我哥从前住在德国多瑙河发源地附近的多德林根城时买的，我在餐桌上用的那把象牙柄的小刀，也是在那地方同时买的。

     “马格洛大娘差不多即刻就上楼来了，我们在晾洗衣服的屋子里祷告了上帝，随后，各自回到自己的房间，没有再谈什么。”

     After bidding his sister good night, Monseigneur Bienvenu took one of the two silver candlesticks from the table, handed the other to his guest, and said to him,--

     "Monsieur, I will conduct you to your room."
     The man followed him.
     As might have been observed from what has been said above, the house was so arranged that in order to pass into the oratory where the alcove was situated, or to get out of it, it was necessary to traverse the Bishop's bedroom.

     At the moment when he was crossing this apartment, Madame Magloire was putting away the silverware in the cupboard near the head of the bed. This was her last care every evening before she went to bed.
     The Bishop installed his guest in the alcove.A fresh white bed had been prepared there.The man set the candle down on a small table.

     "Well," said the Bishop, "may you pass a good night.To-morrow morning, before you set out, you shall drink a cup of warm milk from our cows."
     "Thanks, Monsieur l'Abbe," said the man.

     Hardly had he pronounced these words full of peace, when all of a sudden, and without transition, he made a strange movement, which would have frozen the two sainted women with horror, had they witnessed it.Even at this day it is difficult for us to explain what inspired him at that moment.Did he intend to convey a warning or to throw out a menace?Was he simply obeying a sort of instinctive impulse which was obscure even to himself? He turned abruptly to the old man, folded his arms, and bending upon his host a savage gaze, he exclaimed in a hoarse voice:--
     "Ah! really!You lodge me in your house, close to yourself like this?"

     He broke off, and added with a laugh in which there lurked something monstrous:--
     "Have you really reflected well?How do you know that I have not been an assassin?"
     The Bishop replied:--

     "That is the concern of the good God."
     Then gravely, and moving his lips like one who is praying or talking to himself, he raised two fingers of his right hand and bestowed his benediction on the man, who did not bow, and without turning his head or looking behind him, he returned to his bedroom.

     When the alcove was in use, a large serge curtain drawn from wall to wall concealed the altar.The Bishop knelt before this curtain as he passed and said a brief prayer.A moment later he was in his garden, walking, meditating, conteplating, his heart and soul wholly absorbed in those grand and mysterious things which God shows at night to the eyes which remain open.

     As for the man, he was actually so fatigued that he did not even profit by the nice white sheets.Snuffing out his candle with his nostrils after the manner of convicts, he dropped, all dressed as he was, upon the bed, where he immediately fell into a profound sleep.
     Midnight struck as the Bishop returned from his garden to his apartment.
     A few minutes later all were asleep in the little house.

     和他的妹妹道过晚安以后，卞福汝主教从桌上拿起一个银烛台，并把另外那个递给他的客人，说：“先生，我来引您到您的房间里去。”那人跟着他走。

    我们在上面已经提到过那所房子的结构形式，到那间有壁厢的祈祷室里去，或是从里面出来，都得经过主教的卧室。他们穿过那屋子时，马格洛大娘正在把那些银杯盏塞进他床头的壁橱，那是她每晚就寝以前最后要做的一件事。

    主教把他的客人安顿在壁厢里。那里铺放着一张洁白的床。那人把烛台放在一张小桌上。
    “好了，”主教说，“好好睡一夜吧。明天早晨，您在动身以前，再喝一杯我们家里的热牛奶。”

    “谢谢教士先生。”那人说。那句极平静的话刚说出口，他忽然加上了一个奇怪的动作，如果那两个圣女看见了，她们一定会吓得发呆。直到现在，我们还难于肯定他当时是受了什么力量的驱使。是要给个警告还是想进行恐吓呢？还是他受了一种连他自己也不能了解的本能的冲动呢？他蓦地转过身来对着那老人，叉起胳膊，用一种凶横的目光望着他的房主，并且粗声地喊道：“呀哈！真的吗？您让我睡在离你这样近的地方吗？”他又接着发出一阵狰狞的笑声，说道：“您都想清楚了吗？谁向您说了我没有杀过人呢？”主教抬起头，望着天花板，回答说：“那只关上帝的事。”

    随后，他严肃地动着嘴唇，仿佛一个做祷告或自言自语的人，伸出他右手的两个指头，为那人祝福，那人并未低头，他不掉头也不朝后看，就回到自己的屋子里去了。

    壁厢里有人住时，他总把一面大哔叽帷布拉开，挡住神座。主教走过帷布跟前，跪下去做了一回短短的祈祷。过了一阵，他到了他的园子里，散步，潜思，默想，心灵和思想全寄托在上帝在夜晚为所有尚未睡眠的人显示的伟大神秘的事物上。

    至于那人，实在太困了，连那洁白的床单也没有享用，他用鼻孔（这是囚犯们的作法）吹熄了蜡烛，和衣倒在床上，马上就睡熟了。
    主教从园子里回到他的住宅时，钟正敲响十二点。几分钟之后，那所小房子里的一切全都入睡了。