On the following morning, two hours at least before day-break, Thenardier, seated beside a candle in the public room of the tavern, pen in hand, was making out the bill for the traveller with the yellow coat.
His wife, standing beside him, and half bent over him, was following him with her eyes.They exchanged not a word.On the one hand, there was profound meditation, on the other, the religious admiration with which one watches the birth and development of a marvel of the human mind.A noise was audible in the house; it was the Lark sweeping the stairs.
After the lapse of a good quarter of an hour, and some erasures, Thenardier produced the following masterpiece:--
BILL OF THE GENTLEMAN IN No. 1.
Supper . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 francs. Chamber. . . . . . . . . . . . . .10 " Candle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 " Fire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 " Service. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 " ---------- Total . . . . . .23 francs.
Service was written servisse.
"Twenty-three francs!" cried the woman, with an enthusiasm which was mingled with some hesitation.
Like all great artists, Thenardier was dissatisfied.
"peuh!" he exclaimed.
It was the accent of Castlereagh auditing France's bill at the Congress of Vienna.
"Monsieur Thenardier, you are right; he certainly owes that," murmured the wife, who was thinking of the doll bestowed on Cosette in the presence of her daughters."It is just, but it is too much. He will not pay it."
Thenardier laughed coldly, as usual, and said:--
"He will pay."
This laugh was the supreme assertion of certainty and authority. That which was asserted in this manner must needs be so.His wife did not insist.
She set about arranging the table; her husband paced the room. A moment later he added:--
"I owe full fifteen hundred francs!"
He went and seated himself in the chimney-corner, meditating, with his feet among the warm ashes.
"Ah! by the way," resumed his wife, "you don't forget that I'm going to turn Cosette out of doors to-day? The monster!She breaks my heart with that doll of hers!I'd rather marry Louis XVIII. than keep her another day in the house!"
Thenardier lighted his pipe, and replied between two puffs:--
"You will hand that bill to the man."
Then he went out.
Hardly had he left the room when the traveller entered.
Thenardier instantly reappeared behind him and remained motionless in the half-open door, visible only to his wife.
The yellow man carried his bundle and his cudgel in his hand.
"Up so early?" said Madame Thenardier; "is Monsieur leaving us already?"
As she spoke thus, she was twisting the bill about in her hands with an embarrassed air, and making creases in it with her nails. Her hard face presented a shade which was not habitual with it,-- timidity and scruples.
To present such a bill to a man who had so completely the air "of a poor wretch" seemed difficult to her.
The traveller appeared to be preoccupied and absent-minded. He replied:--
"Yes, Madame, I am going."
"So Monsieur has no business in Montfermeil?"
"No, I was passing through.That is all.What do I owe you, Madame," he added.
The Thenardier silently handed him the folded bill.
The man unfolded the paper and glanced at it; but his thoughts were evidently elsewhere.
"Madame," he resumed, "is business good here in Montfermeil?"
"So so, Monsieur," replied the Thenardier, stupefied at not witnessing another sort of explosion.
She continued, in a dreary and lamentable tone:--
"Oh!Monsieur, times are so hard! and then, we have so few bourgeois in the neighborhood!All the people are poor, you see.If we had not, now and then, some rich and generous travellers like Monsieur, we should not get along at all.We have so many expenses.Just see, that child is costing us our very eyes."
"What child?"
"Why, the little one, you know!Cosette--the Lark, as she is called hereabouts!"
"Ah!" said the man.
She went on:--
"How stupid these peasants are with their nicknames!She has more the air of a bat than of a lark.You see, sir, we do not ask charity, and we cannot bestow it.We earn nothing and we have to pay out a great deal.The license, the imposts, the door and window tax, the hundredths!Monsieur is aware that the government demands a terrible deal of money.And then, I have my daughters. I have no need to bring up other people's children."
The man resumed, in that voice which he strove to render indifferent, and in which there lingered a tremor:--
"What if one were to rid you of her?"
"Who?Cosette?"
"Yes."
The landlady's red and violent face brightened up hideously.
"Ah! sir, my dear sir, take her, keep her, lead her off, carry her away, sugar her, stuff her with truffles, drink her, eat her, and the blessings of the good holy Virgin and of all the saints of paradise be upon you!"
"Agreed."
"Really!You will take her away?"
"I will take her away."
"Immediately?"
"Immediately.Call the child."
"Cosette!" screamed the Thenardier.
"In the meantime," pursued the man, "I will pay you what I owe you. How much is it?"
He cast a glance on the bill, and could not restrain a start of surprise:--
"Twenty-three francs!"
He looked at the landlady, and repeated:--
"Twenty-three francs?"
There was in the enunciation of these words, thus repeated, an accent between an exclamation and an interrogation point.
The Thenardier had had time to prepare herself for the shock. She replied, with assurance:--
"Good gracious, yes, sir, it is twenty-three francs."
The stranger laid five five-franc pieces on the table.
"Go and get the child," said he.
At that moment Thenardier advanced to the middle of the room, and said:--
"Monsieur owes twenty-six sous."
"Twenty-six sous!" exclaimed his wife.
"Twenty sous for the chamber," resumed Thenardier, coldly, "and six sous for his supper.As for the child, I must discuss that matter a little with the gentleman.Leave us, wife."
Madame Thenardier was dazzled as with the shock caused by unexpected lightning flashes of talent.She was conscious that a great actor was making his entrance on the stage, uttered not a word in reply, and left the room.
As soon as they were alone, Thenardier offered the traveller a chair. The traveller seated himself; Thenardier remained standing, and his face assumed a singular expression of good-fellowship and simplicity.
"Sir," said he, "what I have to say to you is this, that I adore that child."
The stranger gazed intently at him.
"What child?"
Thenardier continued:--
"How strange it is, one grows attached.What money is that? Take back your hundred-sou piece.I adore the child."
"Whom do you mean?" demanded the stranger.
"Eh! our little Cosette!Are you not intending to take her away from us?Well, I speak frankly; as true as you are an honest man, I will not consent to it.I shall miss that child.I saw her first when she was a tiny thing.It is true that she costs us money; it is true that she has her faults; it is true that we are not rich; it is true that I have paid out over four hundred francs for drugs for just one of her illnesses!But one must do something for the good God's sake.She has neither father nor mother. I have brought her up.I have bread enough for her and for myself. In truth, I think a great deal of that child.You understand, one conceives an affection for a person; I am a good sort of a beast, I am; I do not reason; I love that little girl; my wife is quick-tempered, but she loves her also.You see, she is just the same as our own child.I want to keep her to babble about the house."
The stranger kept his eye intently fixed on Thenardier. The latter continued:--
"Excuse me, sir, but one does not give away one's child to a passer-by, like that.I am right, am I not?Still, I don't say-- you are rich; you have the air of a very good man,--if it were for her happiness.But one must find out that.You understand: suppose that I were to let her go and to sacrifice myself, I should like to know what becomes of her; I should not wish to lose sight of her; I should like to know with whom she is living, so that I could go to see her from time to time; so that she may know that her good foster-father is alive, that he is watching over her. In short, there are things which are not possible.I do not even know your name.If you were to take her away, I should say: `Well, and the Lark, what has become of her?'One must, at least, see some petty scrap of paper, some trifle in the way of a passport, you know!"
The stranger, still surveying him with that gaze which penetrates, as the saying goes, to the very depths of the conscience, replied in a grave, firm voice:--
"Monsieur Thenardier, one does not require a passport to travel five leagues from paris.If I take Cosette away, I shall take her away, and that is the end of the matter.You will not know my name, you will not know my residence, you will not know where she is; and my intention is that she shall never set eyes on you again so long as she lives.I break the thread which binds her foot, and she departs.Does that suit you?Yes or no?"
Since geniuses, like demons, recognize the presence of a superior God by certain signs, Thenardier comprehended that he had to deal with a very strong person.It was like an intuition; he comprehended it with his clear and sagacious promptitude.While drinking with the carters, smoking, and singing coarse songs on the preceding evening, he had devoted the whole of the time to observing the stranger, watching him like a cat, and studying him like a mathematician. He had watched him, both on his own account, for the pleasure of the thing, and through instinct, and had spied upon him as though he had been paid for so doing.Not a movement, not a gesture, on the part of the man in the yellow great-coat had escaped him. Even before the stranger had so clearly manifested his interest in Cosette, Thenardier had divined his purpose.He had caught the old man's deep glances returning constantly to the child. Who was this man?Why this interest?Why this hideous costume, when he had so much money in his purse?Questions which he put to himself without being able to solve them, and which irritated him. He had pondered it all night long.He could not be Cosette's father. Was he her grandfather?Then why not make himself known at once? When one has a right, one asserts it.This man evidently had no right over Cosette.What was it, then?Thenardier lost himself in conjectures.He caught glimpses of everything, but he saw nothing. Be that as it may, on entering into conversation with the man, sure that there was some secret in the case, that the latter had some interest in remaining in the shadow, he felt himself strong; when he perceived from the stranger's clear and firm retort, that this mysterious personage was mysterious in so simple a way, he became conscious that he was weak.He had expected nothing of the sort.His conjectures were put to the rout.He rallied his ideas.He weighed everything in the space of a second. Thenardier was one of those men who take in a situation at a glance. He decided that the moment had arrived for proceeding straightforward, and quickly at that.He did as great leaders do at the decisive moment, which they know that they alone recognize; he abruptly unmasked his batteries.
"Sir," said he, "I am in need of fifteen hundred francs."
The stranger took from his side pocket an old pocketbook of black leather, opened it, drew out three bank-bills, which he laid on the table. Then he placed his large thumb on the notes and said to the inn-keeper:--
"Go and fetch Cosette."
While this was taking place, what had Cosette been doing?
On waking up, Cosette had run to get her shoe.In it she had found the gold piece.It was not a Napoleon; it was one of those perfectly new twenty-franc pieces of the Restoration, on whose effigy the little prussian queue had replaced the laurel wreath. Cosette was dazzled.Her destiny began to intoxicate her. She did not know what a gold piece was; she had never seen one; she hid it quickly in her pocket, as though she had stolen it. Still, she felt that it really was hers; she guessed whence her gift had come, but the joy which she experienced was full of fear. She was happy; above all she was stupefied.Such magnificent and beautiful things did not appear real.The doll frightened her, the gold piece frightened her.She trembled vaguely in the presence of this magnificence.The stranger alone did not frighten her. On the contrary, he reassured her.Ever since the preceding evening, amid all her amazement, even in her sleep, she had been thinking in her little childish mind of that man who seemed to be so poor and so sad, and who was so rich and so kind.Everything had changed for her since she had met that good man in the forest. Cosette, less happy than the most insignificant swallow of heaven, had never known what it was to take refuge under a mother's shadow and under a wing.For the last five years, that is to say, as far back as her memory ran, the poor child had shivered and trembled. She had always been exposed completely naked to the sharp wind of adversity; now it seemed to her she was clothed.Formerly her soul had seemed cold, now it was warm.Cosette was no longer afraid of the Thenardier.She was no longer alone; there was some one there.
She hastily set about her regular morning duties.That louis, which she had about her, in the very apron pocket whence the fifteen-sou piece had fallen on the night before, distracted her thoughts. She dared not touch it, but she spent five minutes in gazing at it, with her tongue hanging out, if the truth must be told.As she swept the staircase, she paused, remained standing there motionless, forgetful of her broom and of the entire universe, occupied in gazing at that star which was blazing at the bottom of her pocket.
It was during one of these periods of contemplation that the Thenardier joined her.She had gone in search of Cosette at her husband's orders.What was quite unprecedented, she neither struck her nor said an insulting word to her.
"Cosette," she said, almost gently, "come immediately."
An instant later Cosette entered the public room.
The stranger took up the bundle which he had brought and untied it. This bundle contained a little woollen gown, an apron, a fustian bodice, a kerchief, a petticoat, woollen stockings, shoes--a complete outfit for a girl of seven years.All was black.
"My child," said the man, "take these, and go and dress yourself quickly."
Daylight was appearing when those of the inhabitants of Montfermeil who had begun to open their doors beheld a poorly clad old man leading a little girl dressed in mourning, and carrying a pink doll in her arms, pass along the road to paris.They were going in the direction of Livry.
It was our man and Cosette.
No one knew the man; as Cosette was no longer in rags, many did not recognize her.Cosette was going away.With whom?She did not know.Whither?She knew not.All that she understood was that she was leaving the Thenardier tavern behind her.No one had thought of bidding her farewell, nor had she thought of taking leave of any one.She was leaving that hated and hating house.
poor, gentle creature, whose heart had been repressed up to that hour!
Cosette walked along gravely, with her large eyes wide open, and gazing at the sky.She had put her louis in the pocket of her new apron.From time to time, she bent down and glanced at it; then she looked at the good man.She felt something as though she were beside the good God.

     第二天早晨，离天亮至少还有两个钟头，德纳第老板已经到了酒店的矮厅里，点起了一支烛，捏着一管笔，在桌子上替那穿黄大衣的客人编造账单。
    那妇人，立着，半弯着腰，望着他写。他们彼此都不吭声，一方面是深思熟虑，另一方面是一种虔敬心情，那是从人类的智慧中诞生光大的。在那所房子里，只听见一种声音，就是百灵鸟扫楼梯的声音。
    经过了足足一刻钟和几次涂改之后，德纳第编出了这样一张杰作：一号房间贵客账单晚餐3法郎房间10法郎蜡烛5法郎火炉4法郎饭菜1法郎共计23法郎饭菜写成了“饭”。
    “二十三法郎！”那妇人喊了出来，在她那兴奋的口吻中夹杂着怀疑的语气。
    德纳第，与所有的大艺术家一样，并不感到满意。他说了一声：“呸！”
    那正是凯塞尔来①在维也纳会议上开列法国赔款清单时的口气。
①凯塞尔来（Costlereagh），英国政治家，反拿破仑联盟的核心人物。
    “你开得对，德纳第先生，他的确应该付出这么多，”那妇人叽叽咕咕地说，心里正想着昨晚当着她两个女儿的面送给珂赛特的那个娃娃，“这是公道的，但是数目太大了。他不见得愿付。”德纳第冷笑了一下，说道：“他会付的。”
    那种冷笑正是说明自信心和家长派头的最高表现，说出的话就要做到。那妇人一点不坚持自己的意见。她开始动手整理桌子，丈夫在厅里来往纵横地走动。过了一阵，他又补上一句：“我还足足欠人家一千五 百法郎呢，我！”
    他走到壁炉角上，坐下来细细盘算，两只脚踏在热灰上。“当真是！”
    那妇人跟着又说，“我今天要把珂赛特撵出大门，你忘了吗？这妖精！她那娃娃，她使我伤心透了！我宁愿她嫁给路易十八也不愿她在家里多留一天！”
    德纳第点着他的烟斗，在连吸两口烟的空隙间回答说：“你把这帐单交给那个人。”
    他跟着就走出去了。他刚走出厅堂门，那客人就进来了。
    德纳第立即转身跟在他的后面走来，走到那半开着的门口时，他停了下来，立着不动，只让他女人看得见他。
    那个穿黄大衣的人，手里捏着他的棍子和包袱。
    “这么早就起来了！”德纳第大娘说，“难道先生就要离开我们这里吗？”她边这样说，边带着为难的样子，把那张账单拿在手里翻来复去，并用指甲掐着它，折了又折。她那张横蛮的脸上隐隐带有一种平日很少见的神情，一种胆怯和狐疑的神情。
    拿这样一张账单去递给一显然是个地道的“穷鬼”的客人，在她看来，这确实是件为难的事。
    客人好象心里正想别的事，象没有注意她一样。他回答说：“是呀，大嫂，我就要走。”
    “那么，”她说，“先生到孟费郿来就没有要办的事？”“是的。我路过此地，没有别的事。”
    “大嫂，”他又说，“我欠多少钱？”德纳第大娘一声不吭，把那账单递给他。客人把那张纸找开，望着它，但是他的注意力显然是在别的地方。
    “大嫂，”他接着说，“你们在孟费郿这地方生意还好吧？”“就这样，先生，”德纳第大娘回答，她看见那客人并不发作，感到十分惊诧异。
    她用一种缠绵绯恻的声调接着往下说：
    “呵！先生，日子是过得够紧的了！在我们这种地方，很少有阔气人家！全都是些小家小户，您知道。要是我们不间或遇到一些象先生您这样又慷慨又有钱的过路客的话！我们的开销又这么多。比方说，这小姑娘，她把我们的血都吸尽了。”
    “哪个小姑娘？”
    “还不就是那个小姑娘嘛，您知道！珂赛特！这里大家叫做百灵鸟！”
    “啊！”那人说。她接下去说：
    “多么傻，这些乡下人，替别人取这种小名！叫她做蝙蝠还差不多，她哪里象只百灵鸟。请您说说，先生，我们并不求人家施舍，可是也不能老施舍给别人。营业执照，消费税，门窗税，附加税！先生知道政府要起钱来会吓坏人的。再说，我还有两个女儿，我。我用不着再养别人的孩子。”
    那人接着说：
    “要是有人肯替您带开呢？”他说这句话时，极力想使声音显得平常，但那声音仍然有些发抖。
    “带开谁？珂赛特吗？”
    “是埃”店婆子的那张横蛮的红脸立刻显得眉飞色舞，丑恶不堪。“啊，先生！我的好先生！把她领去吧，你留下她吧，带她走吧，抱她走吧，去加上白糖，配上蘑菇，喝她的血，吃她的肉吧，愿您得到慈悲的童贞圣母和天国所有一切圣人的保佑！”
    “就这么办。”
    “当真？您带她走？”
    “我带她走。”
    “马上走？”
    “马上走。您去把那孩子叫来。”
    “珂赛特！”德纳第大娘大声喊。
    “这会儿，”那人紧接着说，“我来付清我的账。是多少？”他对那账单望了一眼，不禁一惊。
    “二十三个法郎！”他望着那店婆又说了一遍：“二十二个法郎？”从重复这两句话的声调里，可以辨出惊叹号和疑问号的区别。德纳第大娘对这一质问早已作好思想准备。她若无其事地回答说：“圣母，是啊，先生，是二十三个法郎。”那外来客人把五枚值五法郎的钱放在桌上。
    “请把那小姑娘找来。”正在这时，德纳第走到厅堂的中央说：“先生付二十六个苏就得。”
    “二十六个苏！”那妇人喊道。
    “房间二十个苏，”德纳第冷冰冰地接着说，“晚餐六个苏。至于小姑娘的问题，我得和这位先生谈几句。你走开一下，我的娘子。”德纳第大娘的心里忽然一亮，仿佛见到智慧之光一闪。她感到名角登场了，她一声不响，立即退了出去。
    到只剩下他们两人时，德纳第端了一张椅子送给客人。客人坐下，德纳第立着，他脸上显出一种怪驯良淳朴的神情。“先生，”他说，“是这样，我来向您说明。那孩子，我可疼她呢，我。”
    那陌生人用眼睛盯着他说：
    “哪个孩子？”德纳第接着说：
    “说来也真奇怪！真是舍不得。这是什么钱？这几枚值一百个苏的钱，您请收回吧。我爱的是个女孩儿。”
    “谁？”那陌生人问。
    “哎，我们的这个小珂赛特嘛！您不是要把她带走吗？可是，说句老实话，我不能同意，这话一点不假，就象您是一位正人君子一样。这孩子，如果走了，我要挂念的。我亲眼看着她从小长到大。她害我们花钱，那是事实；她有许多缺点，那也是事实；我们不是有钱人，那也是事实；她一次病就让我付出四百法郎的药钱，那也是事实！但是人总替慈悲的上帝做点事。这种东西既没有奢侈，也没有妈，我把她养大了。我赚了面包给她和我吃。的的确确，我舍不得，这孩子。您懂吗，彼此有了感情，我是一个好人，我；道理我说不清，我爱她，这孩子；我女人性子躁，可是她也爱她。您明白，她就好象是我们自己的孩子一样。我需要她待在我家里叽叽喳喳地有说有笑。”
    那陌生人一直用眼睛盯着他。他接着说：“对不起，请原谅，先生，不见得会有人愿把自己的孩子随便送给一个过路人吧，我这话，能说不对吗？并且，您有钱，也很象是个诚实人，我不说这对她是不是有好处，但总得弄清楚。您懂吗：如果我让她走，我忍痛割爱，我也希望能知道她去什么地方，我不愿丢了以后就永远摸不着她的门儿。我希望能知道她是在谁的家里，好时常去看看她，好让她知道她的好义父确实是在那里照顾她。总而言之，有些事是行不通的。我连您贵姓大名也还不知道。您带着她走了，我说：‘好，百灵鸟呢？她到什么地方去了呢？’至少她总得先看看一张什么马马虎虎的证件，一张小小的护照吧，什么都行！”
    那陌生人一直用那种，不妨这样说，直看到心底的眼光注视着他，又用一种沉重坚定的口吻对他说：“德纳第先生，从巴黎来，才五法里，不会有人带护照的。如果我要带走珂赛特，我就一定要带她走，干脆就这样说吧。您不会知道我的姓名，您不会知道我的住址，您也不会知道她将来住在哪里，我的想法是她今生今世不再和您见面。我要把拴在她脚上的这根绳子一刀两断，让她离开此地。这样合您的意吗？行或是不行，您说。”
    正好象魔鬼和妖怪已从某些迹象上看出有个法力更大的神要出现一 样，德纳第也了解到他遇到了一个极其坚强的对手。这好象是种直觉，他凭他那种清晰和敏锐的机警，已经了解到了这一点。从昨夜起，他尽管一面陪着那些车夫们一道喝酒，抽烟，唱下流歌曲，却没有一刻不在窥测着这陌生的客人，没有一刻不象猫儿那样在注视着他，没有一刻不象数学家那样在算计他。他那样侦察，是为了想看出一个究竟，同时也是由于自己的兴趣和本能，而且就象是被人买通了来做这侦察工作似的。那个穿黄大氅的人的每一种姿势和每一个动作，全都没有逃过他的眼睛。即使是在那个来历不明的人还没有对珂赛特那样明显地表示关切的时候，德纳第就已识破了这一点。他早已发现这老年人的深沉的目光随时都回到那孩子身上。为什么这样关切？这究竟是个什么人？为什么，荷包里有那么多的钱，而衣服又穿得这样寒酸？他向自己提出了这些问题，却得不出答案，所以感到愤懑。在这些问题上他揣测了一整夜。这不可能是珂赛特的父亲。难道是祖父辈吗？那么，又为什么不立即说明自己的来历呢？当我们有一种权利，我们总是要表现出来的。这人对珂赛特显然是没有什么权利的。那么，这又是怎么回事呢？德纳第迷失在种种假设中了。他感到了一切，还是什么也看不清楚。不管怎样，他在和那人进行谈话时，深信在这一切里有种秘密，也深信这个人不能不深自隐讳，因而他感到自己气壮；可是当他听到这陌生人的那种干脆坚定的回答，看见这神秘的人物竟会神秘到如此单纯的时候，却又感到气馁。他在一瞬间就权衡了这一切。德纳第原是那种能一眼认清形势的人。他估计这已是单刀直入的时候了，他正象那些独具慧眼当机立断的伟大将领一样，在这关系成败的重要时刻，突然揭开了他的底牌。
    “先生，”他说，“我非有一千五百法郎不可。”
    那外来人从他衣服侧面的一只口袋里，取出了一个黑色的旧皮夹，打开来，抽出三张银行钞票，放在桌上。接着他把大拇指压在钞票上，对那店主人说：“把珂赛特找来。”在发生这些事时，珂赛特又在干什么呢？
    珂赛特在醒来时，便跑去找她的木鞋。她在那里面找到了那个金币。那不是一个拿破仑，而是王朝复辟时期的那种全新的、值二十金法郎的硬币，在这种新币的面上，原来的桂冠已被一条普鲁士的小尾巴所替代了。珂赛特把眼睛也看花了。她乐不可支，感到自己转运了。她不知道金币是什么，她从来不曾见过，她赶紧把它藏在衣袋里，好象是偷来的一样。她同时感到这确是属于她的，也猜得到这礼物是从什么地方来的，然而她感受的是一种充满了恐怖的欢乐。她感到满意，尤其感到惊惶。富丽到如此程度，漂亮到如此程度的东西，在她看来，好象都不是真的。那娃娃让她害怕，这金币也让她害怕。她面对着这些富丽的东西胆战心惊，惟有那个陌生人，她不惶，正相反，她想到了他，心就安了。从昨晚起，在她那惊喜交集的心情中，在她睡眠中，她那幼弱的小脑袋一直在想这个人好象又老又穷，而且那样忧伤，但又那么有钱，那么好。自从她在树林里遇见了这位老人后，她周围的一切好象全变了。珂赛特，她连空中小燕子能享受的快乐也不曾享受过，从来不知道什么叫做躲在母亲的影子里和翅膀下。五年以来，就是说，从她记忆能够追忆的最远的岁月起，她是经常在哆嗦和战栗中过日子的。她经常赤身露体忍受着苦难中的刺骨的寒风，可是现在她仿佛觉得已经穿上了衣服。在过去，她的心感到冷，现在感到温暖了。她对德纳第大娘已不那么害怕。她不再是孤零零的一个，还有另外一个和她在一道了。
    她赶忙去做她每天早晨的工作。她身上的那枚路易是放在围裙袋里的，就是昨晚遗失那枚值十五个苏的口袋，这东西使她心慌意乱。她不敢去摸它，但是她不时去看它，每次都得看上五分钟，而且还该说，在看时，她还老伸出舌头。她扫扫楼梯，又停下来，立着不动，把她的扫帚和整个宇宙全忘了，一心只看着那颗在她衣袋里闪闪发光的星星。
    德纳第大娘找着她时，她正在再一次享受她的这种眼福。她奉了丈夫之命走去找她。说也奇怪，她没有请她吃巴掌，也没有对她咒骂。
    “珂赛特，”她几乎是轻轻地说，“快来。”过了一会儿，珂赛特进了那矮厅。这外来人拿起他带来的那个包袱，解开了结子。包里有一件小毛料衣、一条围裙、一件毛布衫、一条短裙、一条披肩、长统毛袜、皮鞋，一套八岁小姑娘的全身服装，全是黑色的。
    “我的孩子，”那人说，“把这拿去赶快穿起来。”天渐渐亮了，孟费郿的居民，有些已经开始开大门了，他们在巴黎街看见一个穿着破旧衣服的汉子，牵着一个全身教服，怀里抱着一个粉红大娃娃的小姑娘，他们正朝着利弗里那面走。那正是我们所谈的这个人和珂赛特。
    谁也不认识这个人，珂赛特已经脱去了破衣烂衫，很多人也没有认出她来。珂赛特走了。跟着谁走？她莫名其妙。去什么地方？她也不知道。
    她所能认识到的一切，就是她已把德纳第客店丢在她后面了。谁也不曾想到向她告别，她也不曾想到要向谁告别。她离开了那个她痛恨的、同时也痛恨她的一家。
    可怜的小人儿，她的心，直到现在，从来都是被压抑着的！珂赛特一本正经地往前走，她睁开一双大眼睛望着天空。她已把她的那枚路易放在她新围裙的口袋里了。她不时低着头去看它一眼，接着又看看这个老人。她有一种感受，仿佛觉得自己是在慈悲上帝的身旁。

Madame Thenardier had allowed her husband to have his own way, as was her wont.She had expected great results.When the man and Cosette had taken their departure, Thenardier allowed a full quarter of an hour to elapse; then he took her aside and showed her the fifteen hundred francs.
"Is that all?" said she.
It was the first time since they had set up housekeeping that she had dared to criticise one of the master's acts.
The blow told.
"You are right, in sooth," said he; "I am a fool.Give me my hat."
He folded up the three bank-bills, thrust them into his pocket, and ran out in all haste; but he made a mistake and turned to the right first. Some neighbors, of whom he made inquiries, put him on the track again; the Lark and the man had been seen going in the direction of Livry. He followed these hints, walking with great strides, and talking to himself the while:--
"That man is evidently a million dressed in yellow, and I am an animal. First he gave twenty sous, then five francs, then fifty francs, then fifteen hundred francs, all with equal readiness.He would have given fifteen thousand francs.But I shall overtake him."
And then, that bundle of clothes prepared beforehand for the child; all that was singular; many mysteries lay concealed under it. One does not let mysteries out of one's hand when one has once grasped them.The secrets of the wealthy are sponges of gold; one must know how to subject them to pressure.All these thoughts whirled through his brain."I am an animal," said he.
When one leaves Montfermeil and reaches the turn which the road takes that runs to Livry, it can be seen stretching out before one to a great distance across the plateau.On arriving there, he calculated that he ought to be able to see the old man and the child.He looked as far as his vision reached, and saw nothing. He made fresh inquiries, but he had wasted time.Some passers-by informed him that the man and child of whom he was in search had gone towards the forest in the direction of Gagny.He hastened in that direction.
They were far in advance of him; but a child walks slowly, and he walked fast; and then, he was well acquainted with the country.
All at once he paused and dealt himself a blow on his forehead like a man who has forgotten some essential point and who is ready to retrace his steps.
"I ought to have taken my gun," said he to himself.
Thenardier was one of those double natures which sometimes pass through our midst without our being aware of the fact, and who disappear without our finding them out, because destiny has only exhibited one side of them.It is the fate of many men to live thus half submerged.In a calm and even situation, Thenardier possessed all that is required to make--we will not say to be-- what people have agreed to call an honest trader, a good bourgeois. At the same time certain circumstances being given, certain shocks arriving to bring his under-nature to the surface, he had all the requisites for a blackguard.He was a shopkeeper in whom there was some taint of the monster.Satan must have occasionally crouched down in some corner of the hovel in which Thenardier dwelt, and have fallen a-dreaming in the presence of this hideous masterpiece.
After a momentary hesitation:--
"Bah!" he thought; "they will have time to make their escape."
And he pursued his road, walking rapidly straight ahead, and with almost an air of certainty, with the sagacity of a fox scenting a covey of partridges.
In truth, when he had passed the ponds and had traversed in an oblique direction the large clearing which lies on the right of the Avenue de Bellevue, and reached that turf alley which nearly makes the circuit of the hill, and covers the arch of the ancient aqueduct of the Abbey of Chelles, he caught sight, over the top of the brushwood, of the hat on which he had already erected so many conjectures; it was that man's hat.The brushwood was not high.Thenardier recognized the fact that the man and Cosette were sitting there.The child could not be seen on account of her small size, but the head of her doll was visible.
Thenardier was not mistaken.The man was sitting there, and letting Cosette get somewhat rested.The inn-keeper walked round the brushwood and presented himself abruptly to the eyes of those whom he was in search of.
"pardon, excuse me, sir," he said, quite breathless, "but here are your fifteen hundred francs."
So saying, he handed the stranger the three bank-bills.
The man raised his eyes.
"What is the meaning of this?"
Thenardier replied respectfully:--
"It means, sir, that I shall take back Cosette."
Cosette shuddered, and pressed close to the old man.
He replied, gazing to the very bottom of Thenardier's eyes the while, and enunciating every syllable distinctly:--
"You are go-ing to take back Co-sette?"
"Yes, sir, I am.I will tell you; I have considered the matter. In fact, I have not the right to give her to you.I am an honest man, you see; this child does not belong to me; she belongs to her mother. It was her mother who confided her to me; I can only resign her to her mother.You will say to me, `But her mother is dead.' Good; in that case I can only give the child up to the person who shall bring me a writing, signed by her mother, to the effect that I am to hand the child over to the person therein mentioned; that is clear."
The man, without making any reply, fumbled in his pocket, and Thenardier beheld the pocket-book of bank-bills make its appearance once more.
The tavern-keeper shivered with joy.
"Good!" thought he; "let us hold firm; he is going to bribe me!"
Before opening the pocket-book, the traveller cast a glance about him: the spot was absolutely deserted; there was not a soul either in the woods or in the valley.The man opened his pocket-book once more and drew from it, not the handful of bills which Thenardier expected, but a simple little paper, which he unfolded and presented fully open to the inn-keeper, saying:--
"You are right; read!"
Thenardier took the paper and read:--
"M. SUR M., March 25, 1823.
"MONSIEUR THENARDIER:-- You will deliver Cosette to this person. You will be paid for all the little things. I have the honor to salute you with respect, FANTINE."
"You know that signature?" resumed the man.
It certainly was Fantine's signature; Thenardier recognized it.
There was no reply to make; he experienced two violent vexations, the vexation of renouncing the bribery which he had hoped for, and the vexation of being beaten; the man added:--
"You may keep this paper as your receipt."
Thenardier retreated in tolerably good order.
"This signature is fairly well imitated," he growled between his teeth; "however, let it go!"
Then he essayed a desperate effort.
"It is well, sir," he said, "since you are the person, but I must be paid for all those little things.A great deal is owing to me."
The man rose to his feet, filliping the dust from his thread-bare sleeve:--
"Monsieur Thenardier, in January last, the mother reckoned that she owed you one hundred and twenty francs.In February, you sent her a bill of five hundred francs; you received three hundred francs at the end of February, and three hundred francs at the beginning of March. Since then nine months have elapsed, at fifteen francs a month, the price agreed upon, which makes one hundred and thirty-five francs. You had received one hundred francs too much; that makes thirty-five still owing you.I have just given you fifteen hundred francs."
Thenardier's sensations were those of the wolf at the moment when he feels himself nipped and seized by the steel jaw of the trap.
"Who is this devil of a man?" he thought.
He did what the wolf does:he shook himself.Audacity had succeeded with him once.
"Monsieur-I-don't-know-your-name," he said resolutely, and this time casting aside all respectful ceremony, "I shall take back Cosette if you do not give me a thousand crowns."
The stranger said tranquilly:--
"Come, Cosette."
He took Cosette by his left hand, and with his right he picked up his cudgel, which was lying on the ground.
Thenardier noted the enormous size of the cudgel and the solitude of the spot.
The man plunged into the forest with the child, leaving the inn-keeper motionless and speechless.
While they were walking away, Thenardier scrutinized his huge shoulders, which were a little rounded, and his great fists.
Then, bringing his eyes back to his own person, they fell upon his feeble arms and his thin hands."I really must have been exceedingly stupid not to have thought to bring my gun," he said to himself, "since I was going hunting!"
However, the inn-keeper did not give up.
"I want to know where he is going," said he, and he set out to follow them at a distance.Two things were left on his hands, an irony in the shape of the paper signed Fantine, and a consolation, the fifteen hundred francs.
The man led Cosette off in the direction of Livry and Bondy. He walked slowly, with drooping head, in an attitude of reflection and sadness.The winter had thinned out the forest, so that Thenardier did not lose them from sight, although he kept at a good distance. The man turned round from time to time, and looked to see if he was being followed.All at once he caught sight of Thenardier. He plunged suddenly into the brushwood with Cosette, where they could both hide themselves."The deuce!" said Thenardier, and he redoubled his pace.
The thickness of the undergrowth forced him to draw nearer to them. When the man had reached the densest part of the thicket, he wheeled round.It was in vain that Thenardier sought to conceal himself in the branches; he could not prevent the man seeing him. The man cast upon him an uneasy glance, then elevated his head and continued his course.The inn-keeper set out again in pursuit. Thus they continued for two or three hundred paces.All at once the man turned round once more; he saw the inn-keeper. This time he gazed at him with so sombre an air that Thenardier decided that it was "useless" to proceed further.Thenardier retraced his steps.

     德纳第大娘和往常一样，让她丈夫作主。她一心等待着大事的发生。那人和珂赛特走了以后，又足足过了一刻钟，德纳第才把她引到一边，拿出那一千五百法郎给她看。
    “就这！”她说。自从他们开始组织家庭以来，敢向家长采取批评行动她这还是第一次。
    这一挑唆奏了效。
    “的确，你说得对，”他说，“我是个笨蛋。去把我的帽子拿来。”他把那三张银行钞票折好，插在衣袋里面，匆匆忙忙出了大门，但是他搞错了方向，出门后转向右边。他向几个邻居打听以后，才摸清路线，有人看见百灵鸟和那人朝着利弗里方向走去。他接受了这些的指点，边迈着大步向前走，边还在自言自语。“这人虽然穿件黄衣，却显然是个百万富翁，而我，竟是个畜生。他起先给了二十个苏，接着又给了五法郎，接着又是五十法郎，接着又是一千五百法郎，全不在乎。他也许还会给一万五千法郎。我一定要追上他。”
    还有那事先替小姑娘准备好的衣包，这一切都很奇怪，这里一定有许多秘密。我们抓住了秘密就不该松手。有钱的人隐情是浸满金汁的海绵，应当知道怎样来挤它。所有这些想法都在他的脑子里打转。“我是个畜生。”他说。
    出了孟费郿，到了向利弗里去的那条公路的岔路口，人们便能见到那条公路在高峰原上一直延伸到远方。他到了岔路口，估计一定可以望见那人和小姑娘。他纵目望去，直到他眼力所及之处，却什么也没看见。他再向旁人打听。这就耽误了时间。有些过路人告诉他，说他所找的那个人和孩子已经走向加尼方向的树林里去了。他便朝那个方向追赶上去。他们本来走在他的前面，但是孩子走得慢，而他呢，走得快。并且这地方又是他很熟悉的。
    忽然他停下来，拍着自己的额头，好象一个忘了什么极重要的东西想转身折回去取的人那样。
    “我本该带着我的长熗来的！”他向自己说。德纳第本来是那样一个具有双重性格的人，那种人有时会在我们中蒙混过去，混过去以后也不至于被发现。有许多人就是那样半明半暗地度过他们的一生的。德纳第在安定平凡的环境中完全可以当一个——我们不说“是”一个——够得上称一声诚实的商人、好绅士那样的人。同时，在某种情况下，当某种动力触动到他隐藏本性之时，他也完全能变成一个暴徒。这是一个具有魔性的小商人。撒旦偶然也会蹲在德纳第过活的那所破屋的某个角落里，并对这个丑恶的代表人物做着好梦的。
    在踌躇了一会儿之后，他想：
    “唔！也许他们已有足够的时间逃跑了！”他继续赶他的路，快速向前奔，差不多是很有把握的样子，就象一只凭嗅觉猎取鹧鸪的狐狸一样敏捷。果然，当他已超过池塘，从斜刺里穿过美景大道右方的那一大片旷地，走到那条生着浅草、几乎一半绕那个土丘而又延展到谢尔修院的古渠涵洞上的小径时，他忽然望见有顶帽子从丛莽中露出来，对这顶帽子他早已提过多次疑问，那的确是那人的帽子。丛莽并不高。德纳第认为那人和珂赛特都坐在那里。他望不见那孩子，因为她小，可是他望见了那个玩偶的头。
    德纳第没搞错。那人确实坐在那里，为的是让珂赛特休息一下。客店老板绕过那堆丛莽，突然出现在他寻找的那两个人的眼前。
    “对不起，请原谅，先生，”他一面喘着气，一面说，“这是您的一千五百法郎。”
    他这样说着，同时把那三张钞票伸向那陌生人。那人抬起眼睛。
    “这是什么意思？”德纳第恭恭敬敬地回答：“先生，这意思就是说我要把珂赛特带回去。”珂赛特浑身战栗，紧靠在老人怀里。他呢，他的眼光直射到德纳第的眼睛里面，一字一顿地回答：“你——要——把——珂赛特——带——回——去？”“是的，先生，我要把她带回去。我来告诉您。我考虑过了。事实上，我没有把她送给您的权利。我是一个诚实人，您知道。这小姑娘不是我的，而是她妈妈的。她妈妈把她托付给我，我只把她交还给她的妈妈。您会对我说：‘可是她妈死了。’好。在这种情况下，我就只能把这孩子交给这样一个人，一个带着一封经她母亲签了字的信，信里还得说明要我把孩子交给他的人。这是显而易见。”这人并不回答，却把手伸到衣袋里，德纳第又瞧见那个装钞票的皮夹出现在他眼前。
    客店老板喜得浑身酥软。
    “好了！”他心里想，“沉着些。他要来腐蚀我了！”那陌生人在打开皮夹以前，先向四周望了一望。那地方是绝对荒凉的。树林里和山谷中都不见一个人影。那人打开皮夹，可是他从那里抽出来的，不是德纳第所期望的那一叠钞票，而是一张简单的小纸，他把那张纸整个儿打开来，送给客店老板看，并且说：“您说得有理。念吧。”
    德纳第拿了那张纸，念道：
    德纳第先生：请将珂赛特交来人。一切零星债款，我负责偿还。此颂大安。
    芳汀滨海蒙特勒伊，一八二三年三月二十五日“您该认得这签字吧？”那人又说。那确实是芳汀的签字。德纳第也认清了。没有什么可以反驳的了。
    他感到两种强烈的悔恨，恨自己必须放弃原先期望的腐蚀，又恨自己被击败了。那人又说：“您可以把这张纸留下，好推卸责任。”
    德纳第向后退却，章法却不乱。
    “这签字摹仿得很好，”他咬紧牙咕哝着，“不过，让它去吧！”接着，他试图作一次无望的挣扎。
    “先生，”他说，“这很好。您既然就是来人。但是那‘一切零星债款’得照付给我。这笔债不少呢。”
    那个人立起来了，他边用中指弹去他那已磨损的衣袖上的灰尘边说：“德纳第先生，她母亲在一月份计算过欠您一百二十法郎，您在二 月中寄给她一张五百法郎的账单，您在二月底收到了三百法郎，三月初又收到三百法郎。此后又讲定数目，十五法郎一月，这样又过了九个月，共计一百三十五法郎。您从前多收了一百法郎，我们只欠您三十五法郎的尾数，刚才我给了您一千五百法郎。①德纳第感觉到的，正和狼感觉到自己已被捕兽机的钢牙咬注钳住时的感受一样。
    “这人究竟是个什么鬼东西？”他心里想。他和狼一样行动起来。他把身体一抖。他曾用蛮干的办法获得过一次成功。这回他已把恭敬的样子丢在一边了。斩钉截铁地说：“无——名——无——姓的先生，我一定领回珂赛特，除非您再给我一千埃居②。”这陌生人心平气和地说：“来，珂赛特。”他用左手牵着珂赛特，用右手从地上拾起他的那根棍棒。德纳第望着那根粗壮无比的棍棒和那一片荒凉的地方。那人带着珂赛特深入到林中去了，把那呆若木鸡的客店老板丢在那儿。
①此处数字和前面叙述芳汀遭难时欠款数字不完全相符，原文如此，照译。
②埃居（ecu），法国古钱币名，因种类较多，故折合的价值不一。
    正当他们越走越远时，德纳第一直望着他那两稍微有点伛偻的宽肩膀和他的两个大拳头。随后，他的眼睛折回到自己身上，看着自己的两条胳膊和瘦手。“我的确太蠢了，”他想道，“我既然是出来打猎，却又没把我的那支长熗带来！”可是这客店老板还不肯善罢干休。
    “我要知道他去哪里。”他说。于是他远远地跟着他们。他手里只捏着两件东西，一件是讽刺，即芳汀签了字的那张破纸，另一件是安慰，即那一千五百法郎。
    那人领着珂赛特，朝着利弗里和邦迪的方向走去。他低着头，慢慢地走着，这姿式表明他正在运用心思，并且感到悲伤。入冬以后，草木都已凋零，显得疏朗，因此德纳第虽然和他们相隔颇远，但却不至于望不见他们。那个人不时回转头来，看看是否有人跟他。忽然，他瞧见了德纳第。他连忙领着珂赛特转进矮树丛里，一下子两人全不见了。“见鬼！”德纳第说。他加紧脚步往前追。树丛的密度迫使他不得不走近他们。那人走到枝桠最密处，把身子转了过来。德纳第想再藏到树枝里去也枉然，他没有办法不让他看见。那人带着一种戒备的神情望了他一眼，摇了摇头，再往前走。客店老板仍旧跟着他。突然一下，那人又回转身来。他又瞧见了客店老板。他这一次看人的神气是如此阴沉，以致德纳第认为“不便”再跟上去了。德纳第方才转身回家。

Jean Valjean was not dead.
When he fell into the sea, or rather, when he threw himself into it, he was not ironed, as we have seen.He swam under water until he reached a vessel at anchor, to which a boat was moored. He found means of hiding himself in this boat until night. At night he swam off again, and reached the shore a little way from Cape Brun.There, as he did not lack money, he procured clothing. A small country-house in the neighborhood of Balaguier was at that time the dressing-room of escaped convicts,--a lucrative specialty. Then Jean Valjean, like all the sorry fugitives who are seeking to evade the vigilance of the law and social fatality, pursued an obscure and undulating itinerary.He found his first refuge at pradeaux, near Beausset.Then he directed his course towards Grand-Villard, near Briancon, in the Hautes-Alpes. It was a fumbling and uneasy flight,-- a mole's track, whose branchings are untraceable.Later on, some trace of his passage into Ain, in the territory of Civrieux, was discovered; in the pyrenees, at Accons; at the spot called Grange-de-Doumec, near the market of Chavailles, and in the environs of perigueux at Brunies, canton of La Chapelle-Gonaguet. He reached paris. We have just seen him at Montfermeil.
His first care on arriving in paris had been to buy mourning clothes for a little girl of from seven to eight years of age; then to procure a lodging.That done, he had betaken himself to Montfermeil. It will be remembered that already, during his preceding escape, he had made a mysterious trip thither, or somewhere in that neighborhood, of which the law had gathered an inkling.
However, he was thought to be dead, and this still further increased the obscurity which had gathered about him.At paris, one of the journals which chronicled the fact fell into his hands. He felt reassured and almost at peace, as though he had really been dead.
On the evening of the day when Jean Valjean rescued Cosette from the claws of the Thenardiers, he returned to paris.He re-entered it at nightfall, with the child, by way of the Barrier Monceaux. There he entered a cabriolet, which took him to the esplanade of the Observatoire.There he got out, paid the coachman, took Cosette by the hand, and together they directed their steps through the darkness,--through the deserted streets which adjoin the Ourcine and the Glaciere, towards the Boulevard de l'Hopital.
The day had been strange and filled with emotions for Cosette. They had eaten some bread and cheese purchased in isolated taverns, behind hedges; they had changed carriages frequently; they had travelled short distances on foot.She made no complaint, but she was weary, and Jean Valjean perceived it by the way she dragged more and more on his hand as she walked.He took her on his back. Cosette, without letting go of Catherine, laid her head on Jean Valjean's shoulder, and there fell asleep.

    他掉进海里时，应该说，他跳进海里去时，他已脱掉了脚链，这是我们已经知道的。他在水里弯弯绕绕地潜到了一舨泊在港里的海船下面，海船旁又停着一只驳船。他设法在那驳船里躲了起来。一直躲到傍晚。天黑以后，他又跳下水，泅向海岸，在离勃朗岬不远的地方上了岸。在那里他又搞到了一身衣服，因为他身边并不缺钱。当时在巴拉基耶附近，有家小酒店，经常替逃犯们供给服装，这是一种一本万利的特殊行当。这之后，冉阿让和所有那些企图逃避法网和社会追击的穷途末路之人一样，走上了一条隐蔽迂回的道路。他在博塞附近的普拉多地方找到了第一个藏身之所。随后，他朝着上阿尔卑斯省布里昂松附近的大维拉尔走去。这是一种尝试着向前的提心吊胆的逃窜，象田鼠的地道一样，究竟有哪些岔路，谁也不知道。日后才有人发现，他的足迹曾到过安省的西弗利厄地方，也到过比利牛斯省的阿贡斯，在沙瓦依村附近的都美克山峡一带，又到过佩利格附近勃鲁尼的葛纳盖教堂镇。他到了巴黎。我们刚才已看见他到了孟费郿。
    他到了巴黎。想要做的第一件事，便是替一个七八岁的小姑娘买一身丧服，再替自己找个住处。办妥这两件事以后，他便到了孟费郿。我们记得，他在第一次逃脱以后曾在那地方，或在那地方附近，有过一次秘密的行动，警务机关在这方面也多少觉察到了一些蛛丝马迹。
    可是大家都认为他死了，因此更不容易查破他的秘密。他在巴黎偶然得到一张登载此事的报纸。也就放了心，而且几乎安定下来了，好象自己确是死了一样。
    冉阿让把珂赛特从德纳第夫妇的魔爪中救出来以后，当天傍晚便回到巴黎。他带着孩子，从蒙梭便门进了城，当时天色刚黑。他在那里坐上一辆马车到了天文台广常他下了车，付了车钱，便牵着珂赛特的手，在黑夜里两人一同穿过乌尔辛和冰窖附近的一些荒凉街道，朝着医院路走去。
    这一天对珂赛特来说，是一个奇怪而充满惊恐欢乐的日子，在人家的篱笆后面，他们吃了从荒僻之地的客店里买来的面包和干酪，他们换过好几次车子，他们徒步走了不少路，她并不叫苦，可是疲倦了，冉阿让也感觉到她越走到后来，便越拉住他的手。他把她驮在背上，怀里一 直抱着卡特琳的珂赛特，头靠在冉阿让的肩上，睡着了。    

Forty years ago, a rambler who had ventured into that unknown country of the Salpetriere, and who had mounted to the Barriere d'Italie by way of the boulevard, reached a point where it might be said that paris disappeared.It was no longer solitude, for there were passers-by; it was not the country, for there were houses and streets; it was not the city, for the streets had ruts like highways, and the grass grew in them; it was not a village, the houses were too lofty.What was it, then?It was an inhabited spot where there was no one; it was a desert place where there was some one; it was a boulevard of the great city, a street of paris; more wild at night than the forest, more gloomy by day than a cemetery.
It was the old quarter of the Marche-aux-Chevaux.
The rambler, if he risked himself outside the four decrepit walls of this Marche-aux-Chevaux; if he consented even to pass beyond the Rue du petit-Banquier, after leaving on his right a garden protected by high walls; then a field in which tan-bark mills rose like gigantic beaver huts; then an enclosure encumbered with timber, with a heap of stumps, sawdust, and shavings, on which stood a large dog, barking; then a long, low, utterly dilapidated wall, with a little black door in mourning, laden with mosses, which were covered with flowers in the spring; then, in the most deserted spot, a frightful and decrepit building, on which ran the inscription in large letters:pOST NO BILLS,--this daring rambler would have reached little known latitudes at the corner of the Rue des Vignes-Saint-Marcel. There, near a factory, and between two garden walls, there could be seen, at that epoch, a mean building, which, at the first glance, seemed as small as a thatched hovel, and which was, in reality, as large as a cathedral. It presented its side and gable to the public road; hence its apparent diminutiveness.Nearly the whole of the house was hidden. Only the door and one window could be seen.
This hovel was only one story high.
The first detail that struck the observer was, that the door could never have been anything but the door of a hovel, while the window, if it had been carved out of dressed stone instead of being in rough masonry, might have been the lattice of a lordly mansion.
The door was nothing but a collection of worm-eaten planks roughly bound together by cross-beams which resembled roughly hewn logs. It opened directly on a steep staircase of lofty steps, muddy, chalky, plaster-stained, dusty steps, of the same width as itself, which could be seen from the street, running straight up like a ladder and disappearing in the darkness between two walls.The top of the shapeless bay into which this door shut was masked by a narrow scantling in the centre of which a triangular hole had been sawed, which served both as wicket and air-hole when the door was closed. On the inside of the door the figures 52 had been traced with a couple of strokes of a brush dipped in ink, and above the scantling the same hand had daubed the number 50, so that one hesitated. Where was one?Above the door it said, "Number 50"; the inside replied, "no, Number 52."No one knows what dust-colored figures were suspended like draperies from the triangular opening.
The window was large, sufficiently elevated, garnished with Venetian blinds, and with a frame in large square panes; only these large panes were suffering from various wounds, which were both concealed and betrayed by an ingenious paper bandage. And the blinds, dislocated and unpasted, threatened passers-by rather than screened the occupants.The horizontal slats were missing here and there and had been naively replaced with boards nailed on perpendicularly; so that what began as a blind ended as a shutter.This door with an unclean, and this window with an honest though dilapidated air, thus beheld on the same house, produced the effect of two incomplete beggars walking side by side, with different miens beneath the same rags, the one having always been a mendicant, and the other having once been a gentleman.
The staircase led to a very vast edifice which resembled a shed which had been converted into a house.This edifice had, for its intestinal tube, a long corridor, on which opened to right and left sorts of compartments of varied dimensions which were inhabitable under stress of circumstances, and rather more like stalls than cells. These chambers received their light from the vague waste grounds in the neighborhood.
All this was dark, disagreeable, wan, melancholy, sepulchral; traversed according as the crevices lay in the roof or in the door, by cold rays or by icy winds.An interesting and picturesque peculiarity of this sort of dwelling is the enormous size of the spiders.
To the left of the entrance door, on the boulevard side, at about the height of a man from the ground, a small window which had been walled up formed a square niche full of stones which the children had thrown there as they passed by.
A portion of this building has recently been demolished. From what still remains of it one can form a judgment as to what it was in former days.As a whole, it was not over a hundred years old. A hundred years is youth in a church and age in a house. It seems as though man's lodging partook of his ephemeral character, and God's house of his eternity.
The postmen called the house Number 50-52; but it was known in the neighborhood as the Gorbeau house.
Let us explain whence this appellation was derived.
Collectors of petty details, who become herbalists of anecdotes, and prick slippery dates into their memories with a pin, know that there was in paris, during the last century, about 1770, two attorneys at the Chatelet named, one Corbeau (Raven), the other Renard (Fox). The two names had been forestalled by La Fontaine. The opportunity was too fine for the lawyers; they made the most of it. A parody was immediately put in circulation in the galleries of the court-house, in verses that limped a little:--
Maitre Corbeau, sur un dossier perche,(13) Tenait dans son bee une saisie executoire; Maitre Renard, par l'odeur alleche, Lui fit a peu pres cette histoire: He! bonjour.Etc.
(13) Lawyer Corbeau, perched on a docket, held in his beak a writ of execution; Lawyer Renard, attracted by the smell, addressed him nearly as follows, etc.
The two honest practitioners, embarrassed by the jests, and finding the bearing of their heads interfered with by the shouts of laughter which followed them, resolved to get rid of their names, and hit upon the expedient of applying to the king.
Their petition was presented to Louis XV.on the same day when the papal Nuncio, on the one hand, and the Cardinal de la Roche-Aymon on the other, both devoutly kneeling, were each engaged in putting on, in his Majesty's presence, a slipper on the bare feet of Madame du Barry, who had just got out of bed.The king, who was laughing, continued to laugh, passed gayly from the two bishops to the two lawyers, and bestowed on these limbs of the law their former names, or nearly so.By the kings command, Maitre Corbeau was permitted to add a tail to his initial letter and to call himself Gorbeau. Maitre Renard was less lucky; all he obtained was leave to place a p in front of his R, and to call himself prenard; so that the second name bore almost as much resemblance as the first.
Now, according to local tradition, this Maitre Gorbeau had been the proprietor of the building numbered 50-52 on the Boulevard de l'Hopital. He was even the author of the monumental window.
Hence the edifice bore the name of the Gorbeau house.
Opposite this house, among the trees of the boulevard, rose a great elm which was three-quarters dead; almost directly facing it opens the Rue de la Barriere des Gobelins, a street then without houses, unpaved, planted with unhealthy trees, which was green or muddy according to the season, and which ended squarely in the exterior wall of paris.An odor of copperas issued in puffs from the roofs of the neighboring factory.
The barrier was close at hand.In 1823 the city wall was still in existence.
This barrier itself evoked gloomy fancies in the mind.It was the road to Bicetre.It was through it that, under the Empire and the Restoration, prisoners condemned to death re-entered paris on the day of their execution.It was there, that, about 1829, was committed that mysterious assassination, called "The assassination of the Fontainebleau barrier," whose authors justice was never able to discover; a melancholy problem which has never been elucidated, a frightful enigma which has never been unriddled.Take a few steps, and you come upon that fatal Rue Croulebarbe, where Ulbach stabbed the goat-girl of Ivry to the sound of thunder, as in the melodramas. A few paces more, and you arrive at the abominable pollarded elms of the Barriere Saint-Jacques, that expedient of the philanthropist to conceal the scaffold, that miserable and shameful place de Grove of a shop-keeping and bourgeois society, which recoiled before the death penalty, neither daring to abolish it with grandeur, nor to uphold it with authority.
Leaving aside this place Saint-Jacques, which was, as it were, predestined, and which has always been horrible, probably the most mournful spot on that mournful boulevard, seven and thirty years ago, was the spot which even to-day is so unattractive, where stood the building Number 50-52.
Bourgeois houses only began to spring up there twenty-five years later. The place was unpleasant.In addition to the gloomy thoughts which assailed one there, one was conscious of being between the Salpetriere, a glimpse of whose dome could be seen, and Bicetre, whose outskirts one was fairly touching; that is to say, between the madness of women and the madness of men.As far as the eye could see, one could perceive nothing but the abattoirs, the city wall, and the fronts of a few factories, resembling barracks or monasteries; everywhere about stood hovels, rubbish, ancient walls blackened like cerecloths, new white walls like winding-sheets; everywhere parallel rows of trees, buildings erected on a line, flat constructions, long, cold rows, and the melancholy sadness of right angles.Not an unevenness of the ground, not a caprice in the architecture, not a fold. The ensemble was glacial, regular, hideous.Nothing oppresses the heart like symmetry.It is because symmetry is ennui, and ennui is at the very foundation of grief.Despair yawns. Something more terrible than a hell where one suffers may be imagined, and that is a hell where one is bored.If such a hell existed, that bit of the Boulevard de l'Hopital might have formed the entrance to it.
Nevertheless, at nightfall, at the moment when the daylight is vanishing, especially in winter, at the hour when the twilight breeze tears from the elms their last russet leaves, when the darkness is deep and starless, or when the moon and the wind are making openings in the clouds and losing themselves in the shadows, this boulevard suddenly becomes frightful.The black lines sink inwards and are lost in the shades, like morsels of the infinite. The passer-by cannot refrain from recalling the innumerable traditions of the place which are connected with the gibbet. The solitude of this spot, where so many crimes have been committed, had something terrible about it.One almost had a presentiment of meeting with traps in that darkness; all the confused forms of the darkness seemed suspicious, and the long, hollow square, of which one caught a glimpse between each tree, seemed graves: by day it was ugly; in the evening melancholy; by night it was sinister.
In summer, at twilight, one saw, here and there, a few old women seated at the foot of the elm, on benches mouldy with rain. These good old women were fond of begging.
However, this quarter, which had a superannuated rather than an antique air, was tending even then to transformation.Even at that time any one who was desirous of seeing it had to make haste. Each day some detail of the whole effect was disappearing. For the last twenty years the station of the Orleans railway has stood beside the old faubourg and distracted it, as it does to-day. Wherever it is placed on the borders of a capital, a railway station is the death of a suburb and the birth of a city. It seems as though, around these great centres of the movements of a people, the earth, full of germs, trembled and yawned, to engulf the ancient dwellings of men and to allow new ones to spring forth, at the rattle of these powerful machines, at the breath of these monstrous horses of civilization which devour coal and vomit fire. The old houses crumble and new ones rise.
Since the Orleans railway has invaded the region of the Salpetriere, the ancient, narrow streets which adjoin the moats Saint-Victor and the Jardin des plantes tremble, as they are violently traversed three or four times each day by those currents of coach fiacres and omnibuses which, in a given time, crowd back the houses to the right and the left; for there are things which are odd when said that are rigorously exact; and just as it is true to say that in large cities the sun makes the southern fronts of houses to vegetate and grow, it is certain that the frequent passage of vehicles enlarges streets.The symptoms of a new life are evident. In this old provincial quarter, in the wildest nooks, the pavement shows itself, the sidewalks begin to crawl and to grow longer, even where there are as yet no pedestrians.One morning,--a memorable morning in July, 1845,--black pots of bitumen were seen smoking there; on that day it might be said that civilization had arrived in the Rue de l'Ourcine, and that paris had entered the suburb of Saint-Marceau.

     四十年前，有个行人在妇女救济院附近的荒僻地段独自徘徊，继而又穿过林荫大道，走上意大利便门，到达了??我们可以说，巴黎开始消失的地方。那地方并非绝对荒凉，也还有些行人往来，也还不是田野，多少还有几栋房屋和几条街道；既不是城市，因为在这些街道上，正和在乡野大路上一样，也有车轮的辙迹，又不是乡村，因为房屋过于高大。那是个什么地方呢？那是一个没有人住的住宅区，无人而又间或有人的僻静角落，是这个大都市的一条大路，巴黎的一条街，它在黑夜比森林还苍凉，在白天比坟场更凄惨。
    那便是马市所在的古老地区。那行人，如果他闯过马市的那四堵老墙，如果他再穿过小银行家街，走过他右边高墙里的一所庄屋，便会看见一片草场，场上竖着一堆堆栎树皮，好象一些庞大的水獭窠；走过以后，又会看见一道围墙，墙里是一片空地，地上堆满了木料、树根、木屑、刨花，有只狗立在一杂物堆上狂吠；再往前走，便有一道又长又矮的墙，已经残缺不全了，墙上长满了苔藓，春季还开花，并且还有一扇黑门，好象穿着丧服似的；更远一点，便会在最荒凉的地方，看见一所破烂房屋，墙上写了几个大字：禁止张贴；于是那位漫无目标的行人就走到了圣马塞尔葡萄园街的转角上，那是个不大有人知道的地方。当时在那儿，在一家工厂附近和两道围墙间有所破屋，乍看起来好象小茅屋，而实际上却有天主堂那样大。它侧面的山尖对着公路，因而显得狭校整个房屋几乎全被遮住了。只有那扇大门和一扇窗子露在外面。
    那所破屋只有一层楼。
    我们仔细看去，最先让人注意到的便是那扇只配装在破窑上的大门，而那扇窗子，如果它不是装在碎石墙上而是装在条石墙上，看起来就会象阔人家的窗子。
    大门是用几块到处有虫蛀的木板和几根不曾好好加工的木条胡乱拼凑而成的。紧靠在大门里面的是一道直挺的楼梯，梯级高，满是污泥、石膏、尘土，和大门一样宽，我们可以从街上看见它，象梯子一样直立在两堵墙的中间，上端消失在黑影里。在那不成形的门框上端，有一块狭窄的薄木板，板的中间，锯了一个三角洞，那便是在门关了之后的透光洞和通风洞。在门的背面，有一个用毛笔蘸上墨水胡乱涂写的数字：52，横条上面，同一支毛笔却又涂上了另一数字：50，因而使人难以肯定。这究竟是几号？门的上头说五十号，门的背面却反驳说不对，是五 十二号。三角通风洞的上面挂着几块说不上是什么的灰溜溜的破布，权且当作帘子。
    窗子很宽，也相当高，装有百叶窗和大玻璃窗框，不过那些大块玻璃都有各种程度不同的破损，被许多纸条巧妙地遮掩着，同时也显得更加触目，至于那两房脱了榫和离了框的百叶窗，与其说它能保护窗内的主人，还不如说它只能引起窗外行人的戒惧。遮光的横板条已经散落，有人随意钉上几块行政的木板，使原来的百叶窗成了板窗。
    大门的形象是非常恶劣的，窗子虽破损但还相当结实，它们一同出现在同一所房屋的上面，看去就好象是两个萍水相逢的乞丐，共同乞讨，相依为命，都穿着同样的破衣烂衫，却各有不同的面貌，一个生来就穷苦，一个则出身于望族。走上楼梯，便可以看到那原是一栋很大的房屋，就象是由一个仓库改建的。楼上中间，有一条长过道，作为房子里的主要通道；过道的左右两旁有着或大或小的房间，必要时也未尝不可作为住屋，但与其说这是些小屋子，还不如说是些鸽子笼。那些房间从周围的旷野采光，每一间都是昏暗凄凉，令人感到怅惘忧郁，阴森得如同坟墓一样；房门和屋顶处处有裂缝，因缝隙所在处不同而受到寒光或冷风的透入。这种住屋还有一种饶有情趣的特点，那便是蜘蛛体格的硕大。
    在那临街的大门外的左边，有个被堵塞了的小四方窗口，离地面约有一人高，里面积满了过路的孩子所丢的石块。这房子最近已被拆去一 部分。保留到今天的这一部分还可使人想见当年的全貌。整栋房子的年龄不过才一百挂零儿，一百岁，对礼拜堂来说这是青年时期，对一般房屋来说却是衰落时期了。人住的房屋好象会因人而寿短，上帝住的房屋也会因上帝而永存似的。
    邮差们管这所房子叫五○一五二号，但是在那附近一带的人都称它为戈尔博老屋。
    谈谈这个名称是怎么来的。
    一般爱搜集珍闻轶事，把一些易忘的日期用别针别在大脑上的人们，都知道在前一个世纪，在一七七○年前后，沙特雷法院有两个检察官，一个叫柯尔博，一个叫勒纳。这两个名字都是拉封凡①所预见了的。这一巧合太妙了，为使刑名师爷们不要去耍贫嘴。不久，法院的长廊里便传开了这样一首歪诗：柯尔博老爷高踞案卷上，嘴里衔着张缉搏状，勒纳老爷逐臭来，大致向他这样讲：喂，你好！??那两位自重的行家受不了这种戏谑，他们经常听到在他们背后爆发出来的狂笑声，头都听大了，于是他们决定要改姓，并向国王提申请。申请送到路易十五手里时，正是教皇的使臣和拉洛许—艾蒙红衣主教双跪在地上等待杜巴丽夫人赤脚从床上下来，以便当着国王的面，每人捧着一只拖鞋替她套在脚上的那一天。国王原本就在说笑，他仍在谈笑，把话题从那两位主教转到这两位检察官，并要这两位法官老爷易姓，或者就算是赐姓。国王恩准柯尔博老爷在原姓的第一字母上加一条尾巴②，改称戈尔博；勒纳的运气比较差，他所得到的只是在他原姓的第一个字母 R前面加上 P，改称卜勒纳③，因为这个新改的姓并不见得比他原来的姓和他本人有什么相象的地方④。根据当地历来的传说，这位戈尔博老爷曾是医院路五○——五二号房屋的业主。并且他还是那扇雄伟窗子的创造者。这便是戈尔博老屋这一名称的由来。
①柯尔博，原文是 Corbeau（乌鸦），勒纳，原文是 Renard（狐狸），都是拉封丹（1621—1695）寓言中的人物。
①这是把拉封丹的寓言诗《乌鸦和狐狸》改动几字而成的。
② Corbeau（柯尔博）的第一字线 C改为 G，而成 Gorbeau（戈尔博）。
③ Renard（勒纳）改为 Prenard（卜勒纳）。Prenard含有小偷的意思。
④指他为不正派，说他象狐狸或小偷。
    在路旁的树木间，有棵死了四分之三的大榆树，正对着这五○——五二号，哥白兰便门街的街口也几乎正在对面，当时在这条街还没有房屋，街心也还没有铺石块，街旁载着一些很不顺眼的树，有时发绿，有时沾满了污泥，随季节而不同，那条街一直通到巴黎的城墙边。阵阵硫酸化合物的气味，从附近一家工厂的房顶上冒出来。
    便门就在那附近。一八二三年时城墙还在。这道便门会使我们想起一些阴惨的情景。那是通往比塞特⑤的道路。帝国时期和王朝复辟时期的死犯在就刑的那天回到巴黎城里来时，都得经过这个地方。一八二九年的那次神秘的凶杀案，所谓“枫丹白露便门凶杀案”，也就是在这地方发生的，司法机关至今还没有找出凶犯，这仍是一件真相不明的惨案，一个未经揭破的恐怖的哑谜。你再往前走几点，便到了那条不祥的落须街，在那街上，于尔巴克，曾象演剧似的，趁着雷声，一刀刺杀了伊夫里的一个牧羊女。再走几步，你就到了圣雅克便门的那几棵丑恶不堪、断了头的榆树跟前，那几棵树是些慈悲心肠的人用来遮掩断头台的东西，那地方是店铺老板和士绅集团所建的一个卑贱可耻的格雷沃广场①，他们在死刑面前退缩，既没有废止它的气量，也没有保存它的魄力。
①格雷沃广场（PlacedeGreve），巴黎的刑场，一八○六年改称市政厅广常。
    三十七年前，如果我们把那个素来阴惨、必然阴惨的圣雅克广场放在一边不谈，那么，五○——五二号这所破屋所在的地方，就整个这条死气沉沉的大路来说，也许是最死气沉沉的地段了，这一带直到今天也还是缺少吸引力的。
    直到二十五年前有钱人家的房屋才开始在这里出现。这地方在当时是凄凉满目的。妇女救济院的圆屋顶隐约可辨，通往比塞特的便门也近在咫尺，当你在这里感到悲伤压抑的时候，你会感到自己处在妇女救济院和比塞特之间，就是说，处在妇女的疯病和男人的疯病②之间。我们极目四望，看见的只是些屠宰尝城墙和少数几个类似兵营或修院的工厂的门墙，四处都是破屋残垣、黑得和尸体一样的旧壁、白得和殓巾一样的新墙，四处都是平行排列着的树木、连成直线的房屋、平凡的建筑物、单调的长线条以及那种令人感到无限凄凉的直角。地势毫无起伏，建筑毫无匠心，毫无丘壑。这是一个冷酷、死板、丑不可耐的整体。再没有比对称的格局更令人感到难受的了，因为对称的形象能使人愁闷是悲伤之源，失望的人总爱打呵欠。人们如果能在苦难的地狱以外，还找得到更可怕的东西，那一定是使人愁闷的地狱了。假使这种地狱确实存在的话，医院路的这一小段地方，正可以当作通往这种地狱的门。
②妇女救济院同时也收容神经错乱和神经衰弱的妇女。
    当夜色下沉残辉消逝时，尤其是在冬天，当初起的晚风从成行的榆树上吹落那最后几片黄叶时，在地黑天昏不见星斗或在风吹云破月影乍明时，这条大路便会陡然显得阴森骇人起来。那些直线条全会融入消失在黑影中，犹如茫茫宇宙间的丝缕寸寸。路上的行人不能不想到历年来发生在这一带的数不尽的命案，这种流过那么多次血的荒僻地方确会叫人不寒而栗。人们认为已感到黑暗中有无数陷阱，各种无可名状的黑影好象也都是可疑的，树与树之间的那些望不透的方洞，好象是一个个墓穴。这地方，在白天是丑陋的，傍晚是悲凉的，夜间是阴惨的。
    夏季，将近黄昏时，随处都有些老婆子，带着被雨水浸得发霉的凳子，坐在榆树下向人乞讨。
    此外，这个区域的外貌，与其说是古老，不如说是过时，在当时就已有改变面貌的趋势了。从那时起，要看看它的人非趁早赶快不可。这整体每天都在丧失它的一小部分。二十年来，直到今天，奥尔良铁路起点站就建在这老郊区的旁边，对它产生影响。一条铁路的起点站，无论我们把它设在一个都城边缘的任何一处，都等于是一个郊区的死亡和一 个城市的兴起。好象在各族人民熙熙攘攘来往的这些大中心的四周，在那些强大机车的奔驰之中，在吞炭吐火的文明怪马的喘息中，这个活力充沛的大地会震动，吞没人们的旧居并让新的产生出来。旧屋倒下了，新屋上升了。
    自从奥尔良铁路车站侵入到妇女救济院的地段以后，圣维克多沟和植物园附近一带的古老的小街都动摇了，络绎不绝的长途公共马车、出租马车、市区公共马车，每天要在这些小街上猛烈奔驰三四次，并且到了一定时期，就把房屋向左右两旁挤。有些奇特而又极其正确的现象是值得一提的，我们常说，大城市里的太阳使房屋的门朝南，这话是实在的，同样，车辆交驰的频繁也一定会扩展街道。新生命的征兆是明显的，在这村气十足的旧城区里，在这些最荒野的角落里，石块路面出现了，即使是在还没人走的地方，人行道也开始蜿蜒伸展了。在一个早晨，一 个值得纪念的早晨，一八四五年七月，人们在这里忽然看到烧沥青的黑锅冒烟；这一天，可以说是文明已来到了鲁尔辛街，巴黎和圣马尔索郊区连接起来了。

It was in front of this Gorbeau house that Jean Valjean halted. Like wild birds, he had chosen this desert place to construct his nest.
He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, drew out a sort of a pass-key, opened the door, entered, closed it again carefully, and ascended the staircase, still carrying Cosette.
At the top of the stairs he drew from his pocket another key, with which he opened another door.The chamber which he entered, and which he closed again instantly, was a kind of moderately spacious attic, furnished with a mattress laid on the floor, a table, and several chairs; a stove in which a fire was burning, and whose embers were visible, stood in one corner.A lantern on the boulevard cast a vague light into this poor room. At the extreme end there was a dressing-room with a folding bed; Jean Valjean carried the child to this bed and laid her down there without waking her.
He struck a match and lighted a candle.All this was prepared beforehand on the table, and, as he had done on the previous evening, he began to scrutinize Cosette's face with a gaze full of ecstasy, in which the expression of kindness and tenderness almost amounted to aberration.The little girl, with that tranquil confidence which belongs only to extreme strength and extreme weakness, had fallen asleep without knowing with whom she was, and continued to sleep without knowing where she was.
Jean Valjean bent down and kissed that child's hand.
Nine months before he had kissed the hand of the mother, who had also just fallen asleep.
The same sad, piercing, religious sentiment filled his heart.
He knelt beside Cosette's bed.
lt was broad daylight, and the child still slept.A wan ray of the December sun penetrated the window of the attic and lay upon the ceiling in long threads of light and shade.All at once a heavily laden carrier's cart, which was passing along the boulevard, shook the frail bed, like a clap of thunder, and made it quiver from top to bottom.
"Yes, madame!" cried Cosette, waking with a start, "here I am! here I am!"
And she sprang out of bed, her eyes still half shut with the heaviness of sleep, extending her arms towards the corner of the wall.
"Ah! mon Dieu, my broom!" said she.
She opened her eyes wide now, and beheld the smiling countenance of Jean Valjean.
"Ah! so it is true!" said the child."Good morning, Monsieur."
Children accept joy and happiness instantly and familiarly, being themselves by nature joy and happiness.
Cosette caught sight of Catherine at the foot of her bed, and took possession of her, and, as she played, she put a hundred questions to Jean Valjean.Where was she?Was paris very large? Was Madame Thenardier very far away?Was she to go back? etc., etc. All at once she exclaimed, "How pretty it is here!"
It was a frightful hole, but she felt free.
"Must I sweep?" she resumed at last.
"play!" said Jean Valjean.
The day passed thus.Cosette, without troubling herself to understand anything, was inexpressibly happy with that doll and that kind man.

     冉阿让便是在戈尔博老屋门前停下来的。和野鸟一样，他选择了一 个最荒僻的地方来做窠。
    他从坎肩口袋里摸出一把路路通钥匙，开门进去以后，又仔细把门关好，走上楼梯，一直背着珂赛特。
    到了楼梯顶了，他又从衣袋里取出另外一把角匙，用来开另一扇门。他一进门便又把门关上。那是一间相当宽敞的破屋子，地上铺着一条褥子，还有一张桌子和几把椅子。屋角里有个火炉，烧得正旺。路旁的一 盏回光灯微微照着这里的贫苦情景。里面有一小间，摆着一张帆布床。冉阿让把孩子抱去放在床上。仍然让她睡着。
    他擦火石，点燃了一支烛，这一切都是已准备好了摆在桌上的。正和昨晚一样，他呆呆地望着珂赛特，眼里充满了感叹的神态，一片仁慈怜爱的表情几乎达到不可思议的程度。而小姑娘那种无忧无虑的信心，是只有最强的人和最弱的人才会有的，她并不知道自己是和谁在一道，却已安然睡去，现在也不用知道自己到了什么地方，还是睡着。
    冉阿让弯下腰去，吻了吻孩子的手。他在九个月前吻过她母亲的手，当时她母亲也正刚刚入睡。同样一种苦痛、虔敬、辛酸的情感充满了他的心。他跪在珂赛特的床旁边。
    天已经大亮了，孩子却还在睡。岁末的一线惨白的阳光从窗口射到这破屋子的天花板上，拖着一长条一长条的光线和阴影。一辆满载着石块的重车忽然走过街心，象迅雷暴雨一样地把房子震得上下摇晃。
    “是啦，太太！”珂赛特惊醒时连声喊道，“来了！来了！”她连忙跳下床，眼睛在睡眠的重压下还半闭着，便伸着手摸向墙角。
    “啊！我的天主！我的扫帚！”她说。
    她完全睁开眼以后才看见冉阿让满面笑容。
    “啊！对，是真的！”孩子说，“早安，先生。”孩子们接受欢乐和幸福最为迅速，也最亲切，因为他们生来便是幸福的欢乐。
    珂赛特看见卡特琳在床脚边，连忙抱住它，她一面玩，一面对着冉阿让唠唠叨叨问个不休。“她是在什么地方？巴黎是不是个大地方？德纳第太太是不是离得很远？她会不会再来？??”她忽然大声喊道：“这地方多漂亮！”
    这只是个丑陋不堪的破窑，但她感到自己自由了。“我不用扫地吗？”她终于问出来。
    “你玩吧。”冉阿让说。这一天便是那样度过的。珂赛特没有想到要去了解什么，只在这娃娃和老人间，感到了说不出的愉快。

On the following morning, at daybreak, Jean Valjean was still by Cosette's bedside; he watched there motionless, waiting for her to wake.
Some new thing had come into his soul.
Jean Valjean had never loved anything; for twenty-five years he had been alone in the world.He had never been father, lover, husband, friend. In the prison he had been vicious, gloomy, chaste, ignorant, and shy.The heart of that ex-convict was full of virginity. His sister and his sister's children had left him only a vague and far-off memory which had finally almost completely vanished; he had made every effort to find them, and not having been able to find them, he had forgotten them.Human nature is made thus; the other tender emotions of his youth, if he had ever had any, had fallen into an abyss.
When he saw Cosette, when he had taken possession of her, carried her off, and delivered her, he felt his heart moved within him.
All the passion and affection within him awoke, and rushed towards that child.He approached the bed, where she lay sleeping, and trembled with joy.He suffered all the pangs of a mother, and he knew not what it meant; for that great and singular movement of a heart which begins to love is a very obscure and a very sweet thing.
poor old man, with a perfectly new heart!
Only, as he was five and fifty, and Cosette eight years of age, all that might have been love in the whole course of his life flowed together into a sort of ineffable light.
It was the second white apparition which he had encountered. The Bishop had caused the dawn of virtue to rise on his horizon; Cosette caused the dawn of love to rise.
The early days passed in this dazzled state.
Cosette, on her side, had also, unknown to herself, become another being, poor little thing!She was so little when her mother left her, that she no longer remembered her.Like all children, who resemble young shoots of the vine, which cling to everything, she had tried to love; she had not succeeded.All had repulsed her,-- the Thenardiers, their children, other children.She had loved the dog, and he had died, after which nothing and nobody would have anything to do with her.It is a sad thing to say, and we have already intimated it, that, at eight years of age, her heart was cold. It was not her fault; it was not the faculty of loving that she lacked; alas! it was the possibility.Thus, from the very first day, all her sentient and thinking powers loved this kind man.She felt that which she had never felt before--a sensation of expansion.
The man no longer produced on her the effect of being old or poor; she thought Jean Valjean handsome, just as she thought the hovel pretty.
These are the effects of the dawn, of childhood, of joy.The novelty of the earth and of life counts for something here.Nothing is so charming as the coloring reflection of happiness on a garret. We all have in our past a delightful garret.
Nature, a difference of fifty years, had set a profound gulf between Jean Valjean and Cosette; destiny filled in this gulf. Destiny suddenly united and wedded with its irresistible power these two uprooted existences, differing in age, alike in sorrow. One, in fact, completed the other.Cosette's instinct sought a father, as Jean Valjean's instinct sought a child.To meet was to find each other.At the mysterious moment when their hands touched, they were welded together.When these two souls perceived each other, they recognized each other as necessary to each other, and embraced each other closely.
Taking the words in their most comprehensive and absolute sense, we may say that, separated from every one by the walls of the tomb, Jean Valjean was the widower, and Cosette was the orphan: this situation caused Jean Valjean to become Cosette's father after a celestial fashion.
And in truth, the mysterious impression produced on Cosette in the depths of the forest of Chelles by the hand of Jean Valjean grasping hers in the dark was not an illusion, but a reality. The entrance of that man into the destiny of that child had been the advent of God.
Moreover, Jean Valjean had chosen his refuge well.There he seemed perfectly secure.
The chamber with a dressing-room, which he occupied with Cosette, was the one whose window opened on the boulevard.This being the only window in the house, no neighbors' glances were to be feared from across the way or at the side.
The ground-floor of Number 50-52, a sort of dilapidated penthouse, served as a wagon-house for market-gardeners, and no communication existed between it and the first story.It was separated by the flooring, which had neither traps nor stairs, and which formed the diaphragm of the building, as it were.The first story contained, as we have said, numerous chambers and several attics, only one of which was occupied by the old woman who took charge of Jean Valjean's housekeeping; all the rest was uninhabited.
It was this old woman, ornamented with the name of the principal lodger, and in reality intrusted with the functions of portress, who had let him the lodging on Christmas eve.He had represented himself to her as a gentleman of means who had been ruined by Spanish bonds, who was coming there to live with his little daughter. He had paid her six months in advance, and had commissioned the old woman to furnish the chamber and dressing-room, as we have seen. It was this good woman who had lighted the fire in the stove, and prepared everything on the evening of their arrival.
Week followed week; these two beings led a happy life in that hovel.
Cosette laughed, chattered, and sang from daybreak.Children have their morning song as well as birds.
It sometimes happened that Jean Valjean clasped her tiny red hand, all cracked with chilblains, and kissed it.The poor child, who was used to being beaten, did not know the meaning of this, and ran away in confusion.
At times she became serious and stared at her little black gown. Cosette was no longer in rags; she was in mourning.She had emerged from misery, and she was entering into life.
Jean Valjean had undertaken to teach her to read.Sometimes, as he made the child spell, he remembered that it was with the idea of doing evil that he had learned to read in prison.This idea had ended in teaching a child to read.Then the ex-convict smiled with the pensive smile of the angels.
He felt in it a premeditation from on high, the will of some one who was not man, and he became absorbed in revery.Good thoughts have their abysses as well as evil ones.
To teach Cosette to read, and to let her play, this constituted nearly the whole of Jean Valjean's existence.And then he talked of her mother, and he made her pray.
She called him father, and knew no other name for him.
He passed hours in watching her dressing and undressing her doll, and in listening to her prattle.Life, henceforth, appeared to him to be full of interest; men seemed to him good and just; he no longer reproached any one in thought; he saw no reason why he should not live to be a very old man, now that this child loved him. He saw a whole future stretching out before him, illuminated by Cosette as by a charming light.The best of us are not exempt from egotistical thoughts.At times, he reflected with a sort of joy that she would be ugly.
This is only a personal opinion; but, to utter our whole thought, at the point where Jean Valjean had arrived when he began to love Cosette, it is by no means clear to us that he did not need this encouragement in order that he might persevere in well-doing. He had just viewed the malice of men and the misery of society under a new aspect-- incomplete aspects, which unfortunately only exhibited one side of the truth, the fate of woman as summed up in Fantine, and public authority as personified in Javert.He had returned to prison, this time for having done right; he had quaffed fresh bitterness; disgust and lassitude were overpowering him; even the memory of the Bishop probably suffered a temporary eclipse, though sure to reappear later on luminous and triumphant; but, after all, that sacred memory was growing dim.Who knows whether Jean Valjean had not been on the eve of growing discouraged and of falling once more? He loved and grew strong again.Alas! he walked with no less indecision than Cosette.He protected her, and she strengthened him. Thanks to him, she could walk through life; thanks to her, he could continue in virtue.He was that child's stay, and she was his prop.Oh, unfathomable and divine mystery of the balances of destiny!

     第二天早晨，冉阿让还是立在珂赛特的床边。他呆呆地望着她，等着她醒来。
    他心里有了一种新的感觉。冉阿让从来未曾爱过什么。在这世上二十五年来，他一向孑然一身。
    父亲，情人，丈夫，朋友，这些他全没有当过。在苦役牢里时，他是凶恶、阴沉、寡欲、无知、粗野的。这个老苦役犯的心里充满了处子的纯真。他姐姐和姐姐的孩子们只给他留下一种朦朦胧胧的印象，到后来几乎完全消逝了。他曾努力寻找他们，没有找着，也就把他们忘了。人的天性本是那样的。青年时期那些儿女之情，如果他也有过的话，也都在岁月的深渊中泯灭了。
    当他看见珂赛特，当他得到了她，领到了她，救了她的时候，他感到满腔血液全沸腾起来了。他胸中的全部热情和慈爱都苏醒过来，灌注在这个孩子的身上。他走到她睡着的床边，快乐得浑身发抖，他好象做了母亲一样，因而感到十分慌乱，但又不知道这是怎么回事，因为心在开始爱的时候，它那种极伟大奇特的骚动是颇难理解而又相当甘美的。
    可怜一颗全新的老人的心！
    可是，他已经五十五岁，而珂赛特才八岁，他毕生的爱已经全部化为一点无可言喻的星光。
    这是他第二次见到光明的启示。主教曾在他心中唤醒了为善的意义，珂赛特又在他心中唤醒了爱的意义。最初的一些日子便是在这种其乐陶陶的心境中度过的。而珂赛特，在她这面，她也变成了另外一个人，那是她没有意识到的，可怜的小人儿！当她母亲离开她时，她还那么小，她已经不记得了。
    孩子好象都是葡萄藤的幼苗，遇到什么，便攀附什么，她和所有的孩子一样，也曾想爱她左右的人。但是她没能做到。所有的人，德纳第夫妇、他们的孩子、其他的孩子，都把她推在一边。她曾爱过一条狗，可那条狗死了。在这以后，便不曾再有过什么东西或什么人要过她。说起来这是多么惨，我们也曾指出过，八岁上她便冷了心。这不是她的过错，她并不缺乏爱的天性，她缺少的只是爱的可能。因此，从第一天起，她整个的心，即使是在梦寐中，便已开始爱这老人了。她有一种从来不曾有过的感觉，心花怒放的感觉。
    这老人在她的心目中，好象已成了一个既不老也不穷的人。她觉得冉阿让美，正如她觉得这间破屋子漂亮一样。
    这是朝气、童年、青春、欢乐的效果。大地上和生活中的新鲜事在这方面也都产生影响。住室虽陋，如果能有幸福的彩光的照耀，那也就是无比美好的仙境了。在过去的经验中我们每个人都有过某种海市蜃楼。
    年龄相差五十岁，这在冉阿让和珂赛特之间是一道天生的鸿沟，可是命运把这鸿沟填平了。命运以它那无可抗拒的力量，让这两个无家可归、年龄迥异而苦难相同的人，骤然撮合在一起了。他们彼此确也能相辅相成。珂赛特出自本能正在寻找一个父亲，冉阿让也出自本能正在寻找一个孩子。萍水相逢，却是如鱼得水。他们的两只手在这神秘的刹那间一经接触，便紧紧握在一起了。两人相互了解后，彼此都意识到相互的需求，于是紧密地融和在一起。
    从某些词的最明显的最绝对的意义来解释，我们可以说冉阿让是个鳏夫，正如同珂赛特是个孤女一样，因为他们都是被坟墓的墙隔离在世上的人。在这种情况下，冉阿让天生就是珂赛特的父亲。
    而且，从前在谢尔的树林深处，冉阿让曾牵着珂赛特的手从黑暗中走出来，珂赛特当时得到的那种神秘印象并非幻觉，而是现实。这个人在这孩子的命运中出现，确实也就是上帝的降临。
    此外，冉阿让选了一个合适的住处，在这个地方他好象十分安全。他和珂赛特所住的这个带一个小间的屋子，便是窗口对着大路的那间，整所房子只有这一扇窗子是临街的，因此无论从侧面或是从对面，都不必担心邻居的窥视。五○一五二号房屋的楼下，是间破旧的敞棚，是蔬菜工人停放车辆的地方，和楼上是完全隔绝的。楼上楼下相隔一层木板，仿佛是这房子的横隔膜，既没有暗梯，也没有明梯。至于楼上，我们已经说过，有几间住房和几间储藏室，其中只有一间是由一个替冉阿让料理家务的老奶奶住着的。其余的屋子全没有人祝老奶奶的头衔是“二房东”，而实际任务是照管门户，圣诞节那天，就是这老奶奶把这间住房租给他的。他曾向他作了自我介绍，说自己原先是个靠收利息过日子的人，西班牙军事公债把他的家产弄光了，他要带着孙女儿来住在这里。他预付了六 个月的租金，并且委托老奶奶把大小两间屋子里的家具布署好，布置情形是我们见到过的。在他们搬进来的那天晚上，烧好炉子准备一切的也是这位老奶奶。好几个星期过去了。一老一小在这简陋不堪的破屋子里，过着幸福的日子。
    一到天亮，珂赛特便又说又笑，唱个不停。孩子们都有他们在早晨唱的曲调，正和小鸟一样。有时，冉阿让捏着她的一只冻得发红发裂的小手，送到嘴边亲一亲。
    那可怜的孩子，挨惯了揍，全不懂得这是什么意思，觉得怪难为情地溜走了。
    有时，她又一本正经地细看自己身上的黑衣服。珂赛特现在所穿的已不是破衣，而是孝服。她已脱离了苦海，走入了人生。冉阿让开始教她识字。有时，他一百遍地教这孩子练习拼写，心里却想着他当初在苦役牢里学文化原是为了要作恶。最初的动机转变了，现在他要一心教孩子读书。这时，老苦役犯的脸上显出了一种不胜感慨的笑容，宛如天使的庄严妙相。他感到这里有着上苍的安排，一种凌驾人力之上的天意，接着他又浸沉在遐想中了。善的思想和恶的思想一样，也是深不可测的。教珂赛特读书，让她玩耍，这几乎是冉阿让的全部生活。除此而外，他还和她谈到她的母亲，要她祈祷。她称他做“爹”，不知道用别的称呼。他经常一连几个钟头，看她替她那娃娃穿衣脱衣，听着她叽叽喳喳地说东道西。他仿佛觉得，从今以后，人生是充满意义的，世上的人也是善良公正的，他心里不需要再责备什么人，现在这孩子既然爱他，便找不出任何理由不要求活到很老。他感到珂赛特象盏明灯一样，已把他未来的日子照亮了。最善良的人也免不了会有替自己打算的想法。他有时带着愉快的心情想到她将来的相貌一定很丑。这只是一点个人的看法，但是为了说明我们的全部思想，我们必须说，冉阿让在开始爱珂赛特的情况下，并没有什么可以证明他不需要这股新的力量，来支持他继续站在为善的一面。不久以前，他又在不同的情况下看到人的残酷和社会的卑鄙（这固然是局部的情形，只能表现真相的一面），也看到以芳汀为代表的这类妇女的下场，以及沙威所体现的法权，他那次因做了好事又回到苦役牢里，他又饱尝了新的苦味，他又受到厌恶和颓丧心情的控制，甚至连那主教的形象也难免有暗淡的时候，虽然过后仍是光明灿烂欢欣鼓舞的，可后来他那形象却越来越模糊了。谁能够说冉阿让不再有失望和堕落的危险呢？他有所爱，他才能再度坚强起来。唉！他并不见得比珂赛特站得稳固些。他保护她，她使他坚强起来。有了他，她才能进入人生，有了她，他才能继续为善。他是这孩子的支柱，孩子又是他的动力。两人的命运必须互相依傍，才能得到平衡，这种妙合，天意使然，高深莫测！

Jean Valjean was prudent enough never to go out by day. Every evening, at twilight, he walked for an hour or two, sometimes alone, often with Cosette, seeking the most deserted side alleys of the boulevard, and entering churches at nightfall. He liked to go to Saint-Medard, which is the nearest church. When he did not take Cosette with him, she remained with the old woman; but the child's delight was to go out with the good man.She preferred an hour with him to all her rapturous tete-a-tetes with Catherine. He held her hand as they walked, and said sweet things to her.
It turned out that Cosette was a very gay little person.
The old woman attended to the housekeeping and cooking and went to market.
They lived soberly, always having a little fire, but like people in very moderate circumstances.Jean Valjean had made no alterations in the furniture as it was the first day; he had merely had the glass door leading to Cosette's dressing-room replaced by a solid door.
He still wore his yellow coat, his black breeches, and his old hat. In the street, he was taken for a poor man.It sometimes happened that kind-hearted women turned back to bestow a sou on him. Jean Valjean accepted the sou with a deep bow.It also happened occasionally that he encountered some poor wretch asking alms; then he looked behind him to make sure that no one was observing him, stealthily approached the unfortunate man, put a piece of money into his hand, often a silver coin, and walked rapidly away. This had its disadvantages.He began to be known in the neighborhood under the name of the beggar who gives alms.
The old principal lodger, a cross-looking creature, who was thoroughly permeated, so far as her neighbors were concerned, with the inquisitiveness peculiar to envious persons, scrutinized Jean Valjean a great deal, without his suspecting the fact.She was a little deaf, which rendered her talkative.There remained to her from her past, two teeth,--one above, the other below,--which she was continually knocking against each other.She had questioned Cosette, who had not been able to tell her anything, since she knew nothing herself except that she had come from Montfermeil.One morning, this spy saw Jean Valjean, with an air which struck the old gossip as peculiar, entering one of the uninhabited compartments of the hovel. She followed him with the step of an old cat, and was able to observe him without being seen, through a crack in the door, which was directly opposite him.Jean Valjean had his back turned towards this door, by way of greater security, no doubt.The old woman saw him fumble in his pocket and draw thence a case, scissors, and thread; then he began to rip the lining of one of the skirts of his coat, and from the opening he took a bit of yellowish paper, which he unfolded. The old woman recognized, with terror, the fact that it was a bank-bill for a thousand francs.It was the second or third only that she had seen in the course of her existence.She fled in alarm.
A moment later, Jean Valjean accosted her, and asked her to go and get this thousand-franc bill changed for him, adding that it was his quarterly income, which he had received the day before. "Where?" thought the old woman."He did not go out until six o'clock in the evening, and the government bank certainly is not open at that hour."The old woman went to get the bill changed, and mentioned her surmises.That thousand-franc note, commented on and multiplied, produced a vast amount of terrified discussion among the gossips of the Rue des Vignes Saint-Marcel.
A few days later, it chanced that Jean Valjean was sawing some wood, in his shirt-sleeves, in the corridor.The old woman was in the chamber, putting things in order.She was alone.Cosette was occupied in admiring the wood as it was sawed.The old woman caught sight of the coat hanging on a nail, and examined it.The lining had been sewed up again.The good woman felt of it carefully, and thought she observed in the skirts and revers thicknesses of paper. More thousand-franc bank-bills, no doubt!
She also noticed that there were all sorts of things in the pockets. Not only the needles, thread, and scissors which she had seen, but a big pocket-book, a very large knife, and--a suspicious circumstance-- several wigs of various colors.Each pocket of this coat had the air of being in a manner provided against unexpected accidents.
Thus the inhabitants of the house reached the last days of winter.

     冉阿让很谨慎，他白天从不出门。每天下午，到了黄昏时分，他才出去蹓跶一两个钟头，有时是独自一人，也常带着珂赛特一道，但总是找大路旁那些最僻静的小胡同走，或是在天快黑时跨进礼拜堂。他经常去圣美达教堂，那是离家最近的礼拜堂。当他不带珂赛特出门时，珂赛特便待在老奶奶身边，但是这孩子最爱陪着老人出去玩。她感到即使是和卡特琳作伴，也还不如和他待上个把钟头更有趣。他牵着她的手，一 面走一面和她说些开心的事。
    珂赛特有时玩得兴高采烈。老奶奶料理家务，做饭菜，买东西。
    他们过着节俭的生活，炉子里经常有一点火，但是总活得象个手头拮据的人家。第一天用的那些家具冉阿让从来不曾掉换过，不过珂赛特住的那个小间的玻璃门却换上了一扇木板门。
    他的穿戴一直是那件黄大衣、黑短裤和旧帽子。街坊也都把他当作一个穷汉。有时，他会遇见一些软心肠的妇人转过身来给他一个苏。冉阿让收下这个苏，总深深地鞠躬。有时，他也会遇见一些讨钱的化子，这时，他便回头望望是否有人看见他，再偷偷地走向那穷人，拿个钱放在他手里，并且常常是个银币，又赶紧走开。这种举动有它的不妥之处。附近一带的人开始称他为“给钱的化子”。
    那年老的“二房东”是个心眼狭窄的人，逢人便想占些小便宜，对冉阿让她非常注意，而冉阿让却并未提防。她耳朵有点聋，因而爱多话。她一辈子只留下两颗牙，一颗在上，一颗在下，她老爱让这两个牙捉对儿相叩。她向珂赛特问过好多话，珂赛特什么也不知道，什么也答不上，她只说了她是从孟费郿来的。有一天早晨，这个蓄意窥探的老婆子，看见冉阿让走进这座破屋的一间没有人住的房里去了，觉得他的神情有些特别。她便象只老猫似的，踮着脚，跟上去，向虚掩着的门缝里张望，她能望见他却不会被他发现。冉阿让，一定也留了意，把背朝着门。老奶奶望见他从衣袋里摸出一只小针盒、一把剪子和一绺棉线，接着他把自己身上的那件大衣一角的里子拆开一个小口，从里面抽出一张发黄的纸币，打开来看。老奶奶大吃一惊，那是张一千法郎的钞票。这是她有生以来看见的第二张或第三张。她吓得瞠目结舌，赶紧逃了。
    一会儿过后，冉阿让走来找她，请她去替他换开那一千法郎的钞票，并说这是他昨天取来的这一季度的利息。“从哪儿取来的？”老奶奶心里想，“他是下午六点出去的，那时，国家银行不见得还开着门。”老奶奶走去换钞票，同时也在说长论短。这张一千法郎的钞票经过大家议论夸大以后，在圣马塞尔葡萄园街一带的三姑六婆中，就引起了一大堆骇人听闻的怪话。
    几天之后，冉阿让偶然穿着短褂在过道里锯木头。老奶奶正在打扫他的屋子。她独自一人在里面，珂赛特看着锯着的木头正出神，老奶奶一眼看见大衣挂在钉子上，便走去偷看，大衣里子是重新缝好了的。老婆子细心捏了一阵，觉得在大衣的角上和腋下的部分，里面都铺了一层层的纸。那一定全都是一千法郎一张的钞票了！
    此外，她还注意到衣袋里也装着各式各种的东西，不仅有针、线、剪子，这些东西都是她已见过的，并且还有一个大皮夹、一把很长的刀，还有一种可疑的东西：几顶颜色不同的假发套。大衣的每个口袋都装着一套应付各种不同意外事件的物品。
    住在这栋破屋里的居民就这样过到了冬末。

Near Saint-Medard's church there was a poor man who was in the habit of crouching on the brink of a public well which had been condemned, and on whom Jean Valjean was fond of bestowing charity.He never passed this man without giving him a few sous.Sometimes he spoke to him. Those who envied this mendicant said that he belonged to the police. He was an ex-beadle of seventy-five, who was constantly mumbling his prayers.
One evening, as Jean Valjean was passing by, when he had not Cosette with him, he saw the beggar in his usual place, beneath the lantern which had just been lighted.The man seemed engaged in prayer, according to his custom, and was much bent over.Jean Valjean stepped up to him and placed his customary alms in his hand. The mendicant raised his eyes suddenly, stared intently at Jean Valjean, then dropped his head quickly.This movement was like a flash of lightning.Jean Valjean was seized with a shudder. It seemed to him that he had just caught sight, by the light of the street lantern, not of the placid and beaming visage of the old beadle, but of a well-known and startling face. He experienced the same impression that one would have on finding one's self, all of a sudden, face to face, in the dark, with a tiger. He recoiled, terrified, petrified, daring neither to breathe, to speak, to remain, nor to flee, staring at the beggar who had dropped his head, which was enveloped in a rag, and no longer appeared to know that he was there.At this strange moment, an instinct-- possibly the mysterious instinct of self-preservation,--restrained Jean Valjean from uttering a word.The beggar had the same figure, the same rags, the same appearance as he had every day."Bah!" said Jean Valjean, "I am mad!I am dreaming!Impossible!"And he returned profoundly troubled.
He hardly dared to confess, even to himself, that the face which he thought he had seen was the face of Javert.
That night, on thinking the matter over, he regretted not having questioned the man, in order to force him to raise his head a second time.
On the following day, at nightfall, he went back.The beggar was at his post."Good day, my good man," said Jean Valjean, resolutely, handing him a sou.The beggar raised his head, and replied in a whining voice, "Thanks, my good sir."It was unmistakably the ex-beadle.
Jean Valjean felt completely reassured.He began to laugh. "How the deuce could I have thought that I saw Javert there?" he thought."Am I going to lose my eyesight now?"And he thought no more about it.
A few days afterwards,--it might have been at eight o'clock in the evening,--he was in his room, and engaged in making Cosette spell aloud, when he heard the house door open and then shut again. This struck him as singular.The old woman, who was the only inhabitant of the house except himself, always went to bed at nightfall, so that she might not burn out her candles.Jean Valjean made a sign to Cosette to be quiet.He heard some one ascending the stairs. It might possibly be the old woman, who might have fallen ill and have been out to the apothecary's. Jean Valjean listened.
The step was heavy, and sounded like that of a man; but the old woman wore stout shoes, and there is nothing which so strongly resembles the step of a man as that of an old woman.Nevertheless, Jean Valjean blew out his candle.
He had sent Cosette to bed, saying to her in a low voice, "Get into bed very softly"; and as he kissed her brow, the steps paused.
Jean Valjean remained silent, motionless, with his back towards the door, seated on the chair from which he had not stirred, and holding his breath in the dark.
After the expiration of a rather long interval, he turned round, as he heard nothing more, and, as he raised his eyes towards the door of his chamber, he saw a light through the keyhole.This light formed a sort of sinister star in the blackness of the door and the wall. There was evidently some one there, who was holding a candle in his hand and listening.
Several minutes elapsed thus, and the light retreated.But he heard no sound of footsteps, which seemed to indicate that the person who had been listening at the door had removed his shoes.
Jean Valjean threw himself, all dressed as he was, on his bed, and could not close his eyes all night.
At daybreak, just as he was falling into a doze through fatigue, he was awakened by the creaking of a door which opened on some attic at the end of the corridor, then he heard the same masculine footstep which had ascended the stairs on the preceding evening. The step was approaching.He sprang off the bed and applied his eye to the keyhole, which was tolerably large, hoping to see the person who had made his way by night into the house and had listened at his door, as he passed.It was a man, in fact, who passed, this time without pausing, in front of Jean Valjean's chamber.The corridor was too dark to allow of the person's face being distinguished; but when the man reached the staircase, a ray of light from without made it stand out like a silhouette, and Jean Valjean had a complete view of his back.The man was of lofty stature, clad in a long frock-coat, with a cudgel under his arm.The formidable neck and shoulders belonged to Javert.
Jean Valjean might have attempted to catch another glimpse of him through his window opening on the boulevard, but he would have been obliged to open the window:he dared not.
It was evident that this man had entered with a key, and like himself. Who had given him that key?What was the meaning of this?
When the old woman came to do the work, at seven o'clock in the morning, Jean Valjean cast a penetrating glance on her, but he did not question her.The good woman appeared as usual.
As she swept up she remarked to him:--
"possibly Monsieur may have heard some one come in last night?"
At that age, and on that boulevard, eight o'clock in the evening was the dead of the night.
"That is true, by the way," he replied, in the most natural tone possible."Who was it?"
"It was a new lodger who has come into the house," said the old woman.
"And what is his name?"
"I don't know exactly; Dumont, or Daumont, or some name of that sort."
"And who is this Monsieur Dumont?"
The old woman gazed at him with her little polecat eyes, and answered:--
"A gentleman of property, like yourself."
perhaps she had no ulterior meaning.Jean Valjean thought he perceived one.
When the old woman had taken her departure, he did up a hundred francs which he had in a cupboard, into a roll, and put it in his pocket. In spite of all the precautions which he took in this operation so that he might not be heard rattling silver, a hundred-sou piece escaped from his hands and rolled noisily on the floor.
When darkness came on, he descended and carefully scrutinized both sides of the boulevard.He saw no one.The boulevard appeared to be absolutely deserted.It is true that a person can conceal himself behind trees.
He went up stairs again.
"Come."he said to Cosette.
He took her by the hand, and they both went out.

     在圣美达礼拜堂附近，有个穷人时常蹲在一口填塞了的公井的井栏上，冉阿让老爱给他钱。他从那人面前走过，总免不了要给他几个苏。有时还和他谈话。嫉妒那乞丐的人都说他是警察的眼线。那是一个七十 五岁的礼拜堂里当过杂务的老头儿，他嘴里的祈祷文是从来不断的。
    有一天傍晚，冉阿让从那地方走过，他这回没有带珂赛特，路旁的回光灯刚点上，他望见那乞丐蹲在灯光下面，在他的老地方。那人和平时一样，好象是在祈祷，腰弯得很低。冉阿让走到他面前，把布施照常送到他手里。乞丐突然抬起了眼睛，狠狠地盯了冉阿让一眼，随即又低下了头。这一动作快得和闪光一样，冉阿让为之一惊。他模模糊糊感到刚才在路灯的微光下见到的不是那老杂务的平静愚戆的脸，而是一副曾见过的吓人的面孔。给他的印象好象是在黑暗中撞见了猛虎。他吓得倒退一步，不敢呼吸，不敢说话，不敢停留，也不敢逃走，呆呆地望着那个低着头、头上盖块破布、仿佛早已忘了他还站在面前的乞丐。在这种奇特的时刻，有一种本能，也许就是神秘的自卫的本能使冉阿让说出话来。那乞丐的身材，那身破烂衣服，他的外貌，都和平时一样。“活见鬼??”冉阿让说，“我疯了！我做梦！不可能！”他心里乱作一团，回到家里去了。
    他几乎不敢对自己说他感到那看见的面孔是沙威。
    晚上他独自捉摸时，后悔不该不向那人问一句话，以迫使他再抬起头来。
    第二天夜晚时，他又去到那里。那乞丐又在原处。“您好，老头儿。”
    冉阿让大着胆说，同时给了他一个苏。乞丐抬起头来，带着悲伤的声音说：“谢谢，我的好先生。”这确是那个老杂务。
    冉阿让感到自己的心完全安定下来了。他笑了出来。“活见鬼！我几时看见了沙威？”他心想。“真笑话，难道我现在已老糊涂了？”他不再去想那件事了。
    几天过后，大约是在晚上八点钟，他正在自己的屋子里高声教珂赛特拼字时，忽然听见有人推开破屋的大门，随后又关上了。他觉得奇怪。和他同屋住的那个孤独的老奶奶，为了不耗费蜡烛，从来都是天黑就上床的。冉阿让立即向珂赛特示意，要她不要作声。他听见有人上楼梯。也许充其量只是老奶奶害着病，到药房里去一趟回来了，冉阿让仔细听。脚步很沉，听起来象是一个男人的脚步声，不过老奶奶一向穿的是大鞋，再没有比老妇人的脚步更象男人脚步的了。可是冉阿让吹灭了烛。
    他打发珂赛特去睡，低声向她说“轻轻地去睡吧”，正当他吻着她的额头时，脚步声停下了。冉阿让不吭声，也不动，背朝着门。仍旧照原样坐在他的椅子上，在黑暗中屏住呼吸。过了一段相当长的时间，他听到没声了，才悄悄地转过身子，向着房门望去，看见锁眼里有光。那一点光，出现在黑暗的墙壁和房门上，正象一颗灾星。明显有人拿着烛在外面偷听。
    几分钟过后，烛光远去，不过他没有再听见脚步声，这也许可以表明来到房门口窃听的人是脱去了鞋子的。
    冉阿让和衣倒在床上，整夜合不上眼。
    天快亮时，他正因疲惫而朦胧睡去，忽然又被叫门的声音惊醒过来，这声音是从过道里面的一间破屋子里传来的，接着他又听见有人走路的声音，正和昨夜上楼的那人的脚步声相同。脚步声越走越近。他连忙跳下床，把眼睛凑在锁眼上，锁眼相当大，他希望能趁那人走过时，看看昨夜上楼来到他门口偷听的人究竟是谁。从冉阿让房门口走过的确是个男人，他一直走过并没有停。当时过道的光线还太暗，看不清他的脸，但当这人走近楼梯口时，从外面射进来的一道阳光，把他的身体象个剪影似的突现出来了，冉阿让看见他的整个背影。这人身材高大，穿一件长大衣，胳膊底下夹着一条短棍。那正是沙威的那副吓坏人的形象。冉阿让本来可以设法到临街的窗口去再看他一眼。不过那样非先开窗不可，他不敢。
    很明显，那人是带着一把钥匙进来的，正象回在到自己家里一样。不过，钥匙是谁给他的呢？这究竟是怎么回事？早晨七点，老奶奶进来打扫屋子，冉阿让睁着一双刺人的眼睛望着她，但是没有向她问话。老奶奶的神气还是和平时一样。她一面扫地，一面对他说：“昨天晚上先生也许听见有人进来吧？”在那样的年头，在那条路上，晚上八点，已是夜深人静时分了。
    “对，听到的，”他用最自然的声音回答说，“是谁？”“是个新来的房客，”老奶奶说，“我们这里又多一个人了。”“叫什么名字？”
    “我闹不大清楚。都孟或是多孟先生，象是这样一个名字。”“干什么事的，这位都孟先生？”
    老奶奶睁着一双鼠眼，盯着他，回答说：“吃息钱的，和您一样。”她也许并无言外之意，冉阿让听了却不免多心。老奶奶走开以后，他把放在壁橱里的百来个法郎卷成一卷，收在衣袋里。他做这事时非常小心，恐怕人家听见银钱响，但是，他尽管小心，仍旧有一枚值五法郎的银币脱了手，在方砖地上滚得好一阵响。太阳落山时，他跑下楼，到大路上向四周仔细看了一遍。没有人。
    路上似乎绝对清静。也很可能有人躲在树后面。他又回到楼上。
    “来。”他向珂赛特说。他牵着她的手，两人一道出门走了。

An observation here becomes necessary, in view of the pages which the reader is about to peruse, and of others which will be met with further on.
The author of this book, who regrets the necessity of mentioning himself, has been absent from paris for many years.paris has been transformed since he quitted it.A new city has arisen, which is, after a fashion, unknown to him.There is no need for him to say that he loves paris: paris is his mind's natal city.In consequence of demolitions and reconstructions, the paris of his youth, that paris which he bore away religiously in his memory, is now a paris of days gone by. He must be permitted to speak of that paris as though it still existed. It is possible that when the author conducts his readers to a spot and says, "In such a street there stands such and such a house," neither street nor house will any longer exist in that locality. Readers may verify the facts if they care to take the trouble. For his own part, he is unacquainted with the new paris, and he writes with the old paris before his eyes in an illusion which is precious to him.It is a delight to him to dream that there still lingers behind him something of that which he beheld when he was in his own country, and that all has not vanished.So long as you go and come in your native land, you imagine that those streets are a matter of indifference to you; that those windows, those roofs, and those doors are nothing to you; that those walls are strangers to you; that those trees are merely the first encountered haphazard; that those houses, which you do not enter, are useless to you; that the pavements which you tread are merely stones.Later on, when you are no longer there, you perceive that the streets are dear to you; that you miss those roofs, those doors; and that those walls are necessary to you, those trees are well beloved by you; that you entered those houses which you never entered, every day, and that you have left a part of your heart, of your blood, of your soul, in those pavements.All those places which you no longer behold, which you may never behold again, perchance, and whose memory you have cherished, take on a melancholy charm, recur to your mind with the melancholy of an apparition, make the holy land visible to you, and are, so to speak, the very form of France, and you love them; and you call them up as they are, as they were, and you persist in this, and you will submit to no change: for you are attached to the figure of your fatherland as to the face of your mother.
May we, then, be permitted to speak of the past in the present? That said, we beg the reader to take note of it, and we continue.
Jean Valjean instantly quitted the boulevard and plunged into the streets, taking the most intricate lines which he could devise, returning on his track at times, to make sure that he was not being followed.
This manoeuvre is peculiar to the hunted stag.On soil where an imprint of the track may be left, this manoeuvre possesses, among other advantages, that of deceiving the huntsmen and the dogs, by throwing them on the wrong scent.In venery this is called false re-imbushment.
The moon was full that night.Jean Valjean was not sorry for this. The moon, still very close to the horizon, cast great masses of light and shadow in the streets.Jean Valjean could glide along close to the houses on the dark side, and yet keep watch on the light side. He did not, perhaps, take sufficiently into consideration the fact that the dark side escaped him.Still, in the deserted lanes which lie near the Rue poliveau, he thought he felt certain that no one was following him.
Cosette walked on without asking any questions.The sufferings of the first six years of her life had instilled something passive into her nature.Moreover,--and this is a remark to which we shall frequently have occasion to recur,--she had grown used, without being herself aware of it, to the peculiarities of this good man and to the freaks of destiny.And then she was with him, and she felt safe.
Jean Valjean knew no more where he was going than did Cosette. He trusted in God, as she trusted in him.It seemed as though he also were clinging to the hand of some one greater than himself; he thought he felt a being leading him, though invisible. However, he had no settled idea, no plan, no project.He was not even absolutely sure that it was Javert, and then it might have been Javert, without Javert knowing that he was Jean Valjean.Was not he disguised?Was not he believed to be dead?Still, queer things had been going on for several days.He wanted no more of them. He was determined not to return to the Gorbeau house.Like the wild animal chased from its lair, he was seeking a hole in which he might hide until he could find one where he might dwell.
Jean Valjean described many and varied labyrinths in the Mouffetard quarter, which was already asleep, as though the discipline of the Middle Ages and the yoke of the curfew still existed; he combined in various manners, with cunning strategy, the Rue Censier and the Rue Copeau, the Rue du Battoir-Saint-Victor and the Rue du puits l'Ermite. There are lodging houses in this locality, but he did not even enter one, finding nothing which suited him. He had no doubt that if any one had chanced to be upon his track, they would have lost it.
As eleven o'clock struck from Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, he was traversing the Rue de pontoise, in front of the office of the commissary of police, situated at No. 14.A few moments later, the instinct of which we have spoken above made him turn round. At that moment he saw distinctly, thanks to the commissary's lantern, which betrayed them, three men who were following him closely, pass, one after the other, under that lantern, on the dark side of the street. One of the three entered the alley leading to the commissary's house. The one who marched at their head struck him as decidedly suspicious.
"Come, child," he said to Cosette; and he made haste to quit the Rue pontoise.
He took a circuit, turned into the passage des patriarches, which was closed on account of the hour, strode along the Rue de l'Epee-de-Bois and the Rue de l'Arbalete, and plunged into the Rue des postes.
At that time there was a square formed by the intersection of streets, where the College Rollin stands to-day, and where the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve turns off.
It is understood, of course, that the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve is an old street, and that a posting-chaise does not pass through the Rue des postes once in ten years.In the thirteenth century this Rue des postes was inhabited by potters, and its real name is Rue des pots.
The moon cast a livid light into this open space.Jean Valjean went into ambush in a doorway, calculating that if the men were still following him, he could not fail to get a good look at them, as they traversed this illuminated space.
In point of fact, three minutes had not elapsed when the men made their appearance.There were four of them now.All were tall, dressed in long, brown coats, with round hats, and huge cudgels in their hands.Their great stature and their vast fists rendered them no less alarming than did their sinister stride through the darkness. One would have pronounced them four spectres disguised as bourgeois.
They halted in the middle of the space and formed a group, like men in consultation.They had an air of indecision.The one who appeared to be their leader turned round and pointed hastily with his right hand in the direction which Jean Valjean had taken; another seemed to indicate the contrary direction with considerable obstinacy. At the moment when the first man wheeled round, the moon fell full in his face.Jean Valjean recognized Javert perfectly.

     有一点需要在这里说明一下，这对我们即将读到的若干页以及今后还会遇到的若干页都是必要的。
    本书的作者——很抱歉，不能不谈到他本人——离开巴黎已经多年①。自打他离开以后，巴黎的面貌改变了。在某些方面这个新型城市对他来说是陌生的。他用不着说他爱巴黎，巴黎是他精神上的故乡。由于多方面的拆除和重建，他青年时斯的巴黎，他以虔敬的心情保存在记忆中的那个巴黎，现在已只是旧时的巴黎了。请允许他谈那旧时的巴黎，好象它现在仍然存在一样。作者即将引着读者到某处，说“在某条街上有某所房子”，而今天在那里却可能既没有房子也没有街了。假使不嫌麻烦的话，读者不妨勘查。至于他，他不认识新巴黎，出现在他眼前的只是旧巴黎，他怀着他所珍惜的幻象而加以叙述。梦想当年在国内看见的事物，现在还有些存留下来并没有完全消失，这对他来说是件美好的事。当人们在祖国的土地上来来往往时，心里总存着一种幻想，以为那些街道和自己无关，这些窗子、这些屋顶、这些门，都和自己不相干，这些墙壁也和自己没有关系，这些树木不过是些无足轻重的树木，自己从来不进去的房屋对自己也都是无足轻重的，脚底下踩着的石块路面，只不过是些石块而已。可是，日后一旦离开了祖国，你就会感到，你是多么惦记那些街道，多么怀念那些屋顶、窗子和门，你会感到那些墙壁对你是不可少的，那些树木是你热爱的朋友，你也会认识到你从来不进去的那些房屋，却是你现在每天都魂牵梦系的地方，在那些铺路的石块上，你也曾留下了你的肝胆、你的血和你的心。那一切地方，你现在见不到了，也许永远再不会见到了，可是你还记得它们的形象，你会觉得它们妩媚到令你心痛，它们会象幽灵一样忧伤地显示现在你的眼前，使你如同见到了圣地，那一切的地方，正可以说是法兰西的本来面目，而你热爱它们，不时回想它们的真面目，它们旧时的真面目，并且你的这上面固执己见，不甘心任何改变，因为你眷念祖国的面貌。正如眷念慈母的音容。
    因此，请容许我们面对现在谈过去，这一层交代清楚以后，还得请读者牢记在心。现在我们继续谈下去。冉阿让立即离开大路，转进小街，尽可能走着弯弯绕绕的路线，有时甚至突然折回头。看是否有人跟踪他。这种行动是被困的麋鹿专爱采用的。这种行动有多种好处，其中的一种便是在会留下迹印的地方，让倒着走的蹄痕把猎人和猎狗引入歧路。这在狩猎中叫做“假遁”。
    那晚的月亮正圆。冉阿让并不因此感到不便。当时月亮离地平线还很近，在街道上划出了大块的阴面和阳面。冉阿让可以隐在阴暗的一边，顺着房屋和墙朝前走，同时窥伺着明亮的一边。也许他没有充分估计到①作者在一八五一年十二月，因反对拿破仑第三发动的政变，被迫离开法国，直到一八七○年九月拿破仑第三垮台后才得以回国。本书发表于一八六二年。
    阴暗的一面也是不容忽视的。不过，他料想在波利弗街附近一带的胡同里，一定不会有人在他后面跟着。
    珂赛特只走不问，她生命中最初六年的痛苦，已使她的性情变得有些被动了。而且，这一特点，我们今后还会不止一次地要提到，她在不知不觉中早已对这老人的独特行为和自己命运中的离奇变幻习惯了。此外，她觉得和他在一起会始终是安全的。
    珂赛特固然不知道他们要去什么地方，冉阿让也未必知道，他已把自己交给上帝，正如她把自己交给了她。他觉得他也一样牵着一个比他伟大的人的手，他仿佛觉得有个无影无踪的主宰在引导他。除此而外，他没有一点确定的主意，毫无打算，毫无计划。他甚至不能十分确定那究竟是不是沙威，并且即使是沙威，沙威也不一定就知道他是冉阿让。他不是已经改了装吗？人家不是早以为他死了吗？可是最近几天来发生的事却变得有些奇怪。他不能再观望了。他决计不再回戈尔博老屋。好象一头从窠里被撵出来的野兽一样，他得先找一个洞暂时躲躲，以后再慢慢地找个安身之处。
    在穆夫达区冉阿让神出鬼没，好象左弯右拐地绕了好几个圈子，当时区上的居民都已入睡，他们似乎还在遵守中世纪的规定，受着宵禁的管制，他以各种不同的方法，把税吏街和刨花街、圣维克多木杵街和隐士井街配合起来，施展了巧妙的战略。这一带原有一些供人租用的房舍，但是他甚至进都不进去，因为他没有找到合适的。其实，他深信即使万一有人要找他的踪迹，也早已迷失方向了。
    圣艾蒂安?德?蒙礼拜堂敲十一点钟时，他正从蓬图瓦兹街十四号警察哨所门前走过。不大一会儿，出自我们上面所说的那种本能，他又转身折回来。这时，他看见有三个紧跟着他的人，在街边黑暗的一边，一个接着一个，从哨所的路灯下面走过，灯光把他们照得清清楚楚。那三个人中的一个走到哨所的甬道里去了。领头走的那个人的神情十分可疑。
    “来，孩子。”他对珂赛特说，同时他赶紧离开了蓬图瓦兹街。
    他兜了一圈，转过长老通道，因时间已晚胡同口上的门早已关了，他大步穿过了木剑街和弩弓街，走进了驿站街。
    那地方有个十字路口，便是今天罗兰学校所在的地方，也就是圣热纳维埃夫新街分岔的地方。
    （不用说，圣热纳埃夫新街是条老街，驿站街在每十年中也看不见有辆邮车走过。驿站街在十三世纪时是陶器工人居住的地方，它的真名是瓦罐街。）月光正把那十字路口照得雪白。冉阿让隐在一个门洞里，心里打算，那几个人如果还跟着他，就一定会在月光中穿过，他便不会看不清楚。
    果然，还不到三分钟，那几个人又出现了。他们现在是四个人，个个都是高大个儿，穿着棕色长大衣，戴着圆边帽，手里拿着粗棍棒。不单是他们的高身材和大拳头使人见了不安，连他们在黑暗中的那种行动也是十分阴森的，看去就象是四个画皮为士绅的鬼物。
    他们走到十字路口中央，停下来，聚拢在一块，好象在交换意见。其中一个象是他们的首领，回转头来，坚决伸出右手，指着冉阿让所在的方向，另一个又好象带着执拗的神情指着相反的方向。正当第一个回转头时，月光正照着他的脸，冉阿让看得清清楚楚，那正是沙威。

Uncertainty was at an end for Jean Valjean:fortunately it still lasted for the men.He took advantage of their hesitation. It was time lost for them, but gained for him.He slipped from under the gate where he had concealed himself, and went down the Rue des postes, towards the region of the Jardin des plantes.Cosette was beginning to be tired.He took her in his arms and carried her. There were no passers-by, and the street lanterns had not been lighted on account of there being a moon.
He redoubled his pace.
In a few strides he had reached the Goblet potteries, on the front of which the moonlight rendered distinctly legible the ancient inscription:--
De Goblet fils c'est ici la fabrique;(14) Venez choisir des cruches et des broos, Des pots a fleurs, des tuyaux, de la brique. A tout venant le Coeur vend des Carreaux.
(14)This is the factory of Goblet Junior: Come choose your jugs and crocks, Flower-pots, pipes, bricks. The Heart sells Diamonds to every comer.
He left behind him the Rue de la Clef, then the Fountain Saint-Victor, skirted the Jardin des plantes by the lower streets, and reached the quay.There he turned round.The quay was deserted.The streets were deserted.There was no one behind him.He drew a long breath.
He gained the pont d'Austerlitz.
Tolls were still collected there at that epoch.
He presented himself at the toll office and handed over a sou.
"It is two sous," said the old soldier in charge of the bridge. "You are carrying a child who can walk.pay for two."
He paid, vexed that his passage should have aroused remark. Every flight should be an imperceptible slipping away.
A heavy cart was crossing the Seine at the same time as himself, and on its way, like him, to the right bank.This was of use to him. He could traverse the bridge in the shadow of the cart.
Towards the middle of the Bridge, Cosette, whose feet were benumbed, wanted to walk.He set her on the ground and took her hand again.
The bridge once crossed, he perceived some timber-yards on his right. He directed his course thither.In order to reach them, it was necessary to risk himself in a tolerably large unsheltered and illuminated space.He did not hesitate.Those who were on his track had evidently lost the scent, and Jean Valjean believed himself to be out of danger.Hunted, yes; followed, no.
A little street, the Rue du Chemin-Vert-Saint-Antoine, opened out between two timber-yards enclosed in walls.This street was dark and narrow and seemed made expressly for him.Before entering it he cast a glance behind him,
From the point where he stood he could see the whole extent of the pont d'Austerlitz.
Four shadows were just entering on the bridge.
These shadows had their backs turned to the Jardin des plantes and were on their way to the right bank.
These four shadows were the four men.
Jean Valjean shuddered like the wild beast which is recaptured.
One hope remained to him; it was, that the men had not, perhaps, stepped on the bridge, and had not caught sight of him while he was crossing the large illuminated space, holding Cosette by the hand.
In that case, by plunging into the little street before him, he might escape, if he could reach the timber-yards, the marshes, the market-gardens, the uninhabited ground which was not built upon.
It seemed to him that he might commit himself to that silent little street.He entered it.

     冉阿让不再怀疑了，好在那几个人还在犹豫不决，他便利用他们的迟疑，这对他们来说是浪费了时间，对他来说却是争取到了时间。他从藏身的门洞里走出来转进驿站街，朝着植物园一带走去。珂赛特开始感到累了。他把她抱在胳膊上。路上没一个行人，路灯也没点上，因为有月亮。
    他两步并作一步地往前急走。他几下便跨到了哥伯雷陶器店，月光正把店门外墙上的几行旧式广告照得清晰可读：祖传老店哥伯雷，水罐水壶请来买，还有花盆，瓦管以及砖，凭心出卖红方块①。他跨过钥匙街，然后圣维克多喷泉，顺着植物园旁边的下坡路走到了河沿。到了那里，他再回头望。河沿上是空的。街上也是空的。没有人跟来。他喘了口气。
    他到了奥斯特茨桥。
    当时过桥还得付过桥税。他走到收税处，付了一个苏。
    “得付两个苏，”守桥的伤兵说，“您还抱着一个自己能走的孩子。
    得付两个人的钱。”他照付了钱，想到别人也许可以从这里发现他过了桥，心里有些嘀咕。逃窜总应该不留痕迹。
    恰巧有一辆大车，和他一样，要在那时过桥到塞纳河的右岸去。这对他是有利的。他可以隐在大车的影子里一同过去。快到桥的中段，珂赛特的脚麻了，要下来走。他把她放在地上，牵着她的手。
    过桥以后，他发现在他前面稍稍偏右的地方有几处工场，他便往那里走去。必须冒险在月光下穿过一片相当宽的空地才能到达。他毫不迟疑。搜索他的那几个人显然迷失方向了，冉阿让自以为脱离了危险。追，尽管追，跟，却没跟上。
    在两处有围墙的工场中间，出现了一条小街，这就是圣安东尼绿径街。那条街又窄又暗，仿佛是特意为他修的。在进街口以前，他又往后望了一眼。
    从他当时所在的地方望去，可以望见奥斯特里茨桥的整个桥身。有四个人影刚刚走上桥头。
    那些人影背着植物园，正向右岸走来。这四个影子，便是那四个人了。冉阿让浑身寒毛直竖，象是一头又入罗网的野兽。他还存有一线希望，他刚才牵着珂赛特在月光下穿过这一大片空地的时候，那几个人也许还没有上桥，也就不至于看见他。既是这样，就走进那小街，要是他能到那些工尝洼地、园圃、旷地，他就有救了。
    ①心和红方块指纸牌上的两种花色。
    他好象觉得可以把自己托付给那条静悄悄的小街。他走进去了。

Three hundred paces further on, he arrived at a point where the street forked.It separated into two streets, which ran in a slanting line, one to the right, and the other to the left.
Jean Valjean had before him what resembled the two branches of a Y. Which should he choose?He did not hesitate, but took the one on the right.
Why?
Because that to the left ran towards a suburb, that is to say, towards inhabited regions, and the right branch towards the open country, that is to say, towards deserted regions.
However, they no longer walked very fast.Cosette's pace retarded Jean Valjean's.
He took her up and carried her again.Cosette laid her head on the shoulder of the good man and said not a word.
He turned round from time to time and looked behind him. He took care to keep always on the dark side of the street. The street was straight in his rear.The first two or three times that he turned round he saw nothing; the silence was profound, and he continued his march somewhat reassured.All at once, on turning round, he thought he perceived in the portion of the street which he had just passed through, far off in the obscurity, something which was moving.
He rushed forward precipitately rather than walked, hoping to find some side-street, to make his escape through it, and thus to break his scent once more.
He arrived at a wall.
This wall, however, did not absolutely prevent further progress; it was a wall which bordered a transverse street, in which the one he had taken ended.
Here again, he was obliged to come to a decision; should he go to the right or to the left.
He glanced to the right.The fragmentary lane was prolonged between buildings which were either sheds or barns, then ended at a blind alley.The extremity of the cul-de-sac was distinctly visible,-- a lofty white wall.
He glanced to the left.On that side the lane was open, and about two hundred paces further on, ran into a street of which it was the affluent.On that side lay safety.
At the moment when Jean Valjean was meditating a turn to the left, in an effort to reach the street which he saw at the end of the lane, he perceived a sort of motionless, black statue at the corner of the lane and the street towards which he was on the point of directing his steps.
It was some one, a man, who had evidently just been posted there, and who was barring the passage and waiting.
Jean Valjean recoiled.
The point of paris where Jean Valjean found himself, situated between the Faubourg Saint-Antoine and la Rapee, is one of those which recent improvements have transformed from top to bottom,-- resulting in disfigurement according to some, and in a transfiguration according to others.The market-gardens, the timber-yards, and the old buildings have been effaced.To-day, there are brand-new, wide streets, arenas, circuses, hippodromes, railway stations, and a prison, Mazas, there; progress, as the reader sees, with its antidote.
Half a century ago, in that ordinary, popular tongue, which is all compounded of traditions, which persists in calling the Institut les Quatre-Nations, and the Opera-Comique Feydeau, the precise spot whither Jean Valjean had arrived was called le petit picpus. The porte Saint-Jacques, the porte paris, the Barriere des Sergents, the porcherons, la Galiote, les Celestins, les Capucins, le Mail, la Bourbe, l'Arbre de Cracovie, la petite-pologne--these are the names of old paris which survive amid the new.The memory of the populace hovers over these relics of the past.
Le petit-picpus, which, moreover, hardly ever had any existence, and never was more than the outline of a quarter, had nearly the monkish aspect of a Spanish town.The roads were not much paved; the streets were not much built up.With the exception of the two or three streets, of which we shall presently speak, all was wall and solitude there.Not a shop, not a vehicle, hardly a candle lighted here and there in the windows; all lights extinguished after ten o'clock. Gardens, convents, timber-yards, marshes; occasional lowly dwellings and great walls as high as the houses.
Such was this quarter in the last century.The Revolution snubbed it soundly.The republican government demolished and cut through it. Rubbish shoots were established there.Thirty years ago, this quarter was disappearing under the erasing process of new buildings. To-day, it has been utterly blotted out.The petit-picpus, of which no existing plan has preserved a trace, is indicated with sufficient clearness in the plan of 1727, published at paris by Denis Thierry, Rue Saint-Jacques, opposite the Rue du platre; and at Lyons, by Jean Girin, Rue Merciere, at the sign of prudence. petit-picpus had, as we have just mentioned, a Y of streets, formed by the Rue du Chemin-Vert-Saint-Antoine, which spread out in two branches, taking on the left the name of Little picpus Street, and on the right the name of the Rue polonceau. The two limbs of the Y were connected at the apex as by a bar; this bar was called Rue Droit-Mur. The Rue polonceau ended there; Rue petit-picpus passed on, and ascended towards the Lenoir market. A person coming from the Seine reached the extremity of the Rue polonceau, and had on his right the Rue Droit-Mur, turning abruptly at a right angle, in front of him the wall of that street, and on his right a truncated prolongation of the Rue Droit-Mur, which had no issue and was called the Cul-de-Sac Genrot.
It was here that Jean Valjean stood.
As we have just said, on catching sight of that black silhouette standing on guard at the angle of the Rue Droit-Mur and the Rue petit-picpus, he recoiled.There could be no doubt of it. That phantom was lying in wait for him.
What was he to do?
The time for retreating was passed.That which he had perceived in movement an instant before, in the distant darkness, was Javert and his squad without a doubt.Javert was probably already at the commencement of the street at whose end Jean Valjean stood. Javert, to all appearances, was acquainted with this little labyrinth, and had taken his precautions by sending one of his men to guard the exit.These surmises, which so closely resembled proofs, whirled suddenly, like a handful of dust caught up by an unexpected gust of wind, through Jean Valjean's mournful brain. He examined the Cul-de-Sac Genrot; there he was cut off. He examined the Rue petit-picpus; there stood a sentinel.He saw that black form standing out in relief against the white pavement, illuminated by the moon; to advance was to fall into this man's hands; to retreat was to fling himself into Javert's arms.Jean Valjean felt himself caught, as in a net, which was slowly contracting; he gazed heavenward in despair.

     走了三百步后他到了一个岔路口。街道在这儿分作两条，一条斜向左边，一条向右。摆在冉阿让面前的仿佛是个 Y字的两股叉。选哪一股好呢？
    他毫不踌躇，向右走。为什么？
    因为左边去城郊，就是说，去有人住的地方；右边去乡间，就是说，去荒野的地方。
    可他已不象先头那样走得飞快了。珂赛特的脚步拖住了冉阿让的脚步。
    他又抱起她来。珂赛特把头靠在老人肩上，一声也不吭。他不时回 头望望。他一直注意靠着街边阴暗的一边。他背后的街是直的。他回头看了两三次，什么也没有看见，什么声音也没有，他继续往前走，心里稍微宽了些。忽然，他往后望时，好象又看见在他刚刚走过的那段街上，在远处，黑影里，有东西在动。他现在不是走而是往前奔了，一心只想能有一条侧巷，从那儿逃走，再次脱险。
    他撞见一堵墙。
    那墙并不挡住去路，冉阿让现在所走的这条街，通到一条横巷，那是横巷旁边的围墙。
    到了那里，又得打主意，朝右，或是朝左。
    他向右边望去。巷子两旁有一些敞棚和仓库之类的建筑物，巷子象一条盲肠似的伸展出去，无路可通。可以清晰地望见巷底，那儿有一堵高粉墙。
    他向左望。这边的胡同是通的，而且，在相隔二百来步的地方，便接上另一条街。这一边才是生路。冉阿让正要转向左边，打算逃到他隐约看到的巷底的那条街上去，他忽然发现在巷口和他要去的那条街相接的拐角上，有个黑魆魆的人形，伫立着不动。那确是一个人，显然是刚才派来守在巷口挡住去路的。冉阿让赶忙往后退。
    他当时所在地处于圣安东尼郊区和拉白区之间，巴黎的这一带也是被新建工程彻底改变了的，这种改变，有些人称为丑化，也有些人称为改观。园圃、工尝旧建筑物全取消了。今天在这一带是全新的大街、竞技尝马戏尝跑马尝火车起点站、一所名为马扎斯的监狱，足见进步与刑罚离不开。
    当时冉阿让到达的地方在半个世纪以前，叫做小比克布斯，这名称完全出自传统的民族常用语，正如这种常用语一定要把学院称为“四 国”，喜歌剧院称为“费多”一样。圣雅克门、巴黎门、中士便门、波舍垄加利奥特、赛莱斯坦、嘉布遣、玛依、布尔白、克拉科夫树、小波兰、小比克布斯，这些全是旧巴黎替新巴黎遗留下来的名称。对这些残存的事物人民一直是念念不忘的。小比克布斯从来就是一个区的雏型，存在的年代也不长，它差不多有着西班牙城市那种古朴的外貌。路上多半没有铺石块，街上多半没有盖房屋。除了我们即将谈到的两三条街道外，四处全是墙和旷野。没有一家店铺，没有一辆车子，只偶然有点烛光从几处窗口透出来，十点过后，所有的灯火都灭了。全是些园圃、修院、工尝洼场，有几所少见的矮屋以及和房子一样高的墙。
    这个区在前一世纪的形象便是如此。革命曾替它带来不少灾难，共和时期的建设局把它毁坏，洞穿，打窟窿。残砖破瓦，处处堆积。这个区在三十年前已被新建筑所淹没。今天已被一笔勾销了。
    小比克布斯，在现在的市区图上已毫无影踪，可是位于巴黎圣雅克街上正对着石膏街的德尼?蒂埃里书店，和位于里昂普律丹斯广场针线街上的让?吉兰书店，在一七二七年印行的市区图上却标志得相当清楚。小比克布斯有我们刚才说过的象 Y字形的街道，Y字下半的一竖，是圣安东尼绿径街，它分为左右两支，左支是比克布斯小街，右支是波隆梭街。
    这 Y字的两个尖又好象是由一横连接起来的。这一横叫直壁街。波隆梭街通到直壁街为止，比克布斯小街却穿过直壁街以后，还上坡通到勒努瓦市常从塞纳河走来的人，走到波隆梭街的尽头，向他左边转个九十 度的急弯，便到了直壁街，在他面前的是沿着这条街的墙，在他右边的是直壁街的街尾，不通别处，叫做让洛死胡同。
    当时冉阿让正是到了这地方。正如我们先头所说的，他望见有一个黑影把守的直壁街和比克布斯的小街的转角处，便往后退。毫无疑问，他已成了那鬼影捕捉的对象。
    怎么办？已经来不及退回去了。他先头望见的、远远地在他背后黑影里移动的，一定就是沙威和他的队伍。沙威很可能是在这条街的口上，冉阿让则是在这条街的尾上。从所有已知的迹象看来，沙威是熟悉这一小块地方复杂的的地形的，他已有了准备，派了他的一个手下去守住了出口。这种猜测完全符合事实，便在冉阿让痛苦的头脑里，象一把在急风中飞散的灰沙，搅得他心慌意乱。他仔细看了看让洛死胡同，这儿，无路可通，又仔细看了看比克布斯小街，这儿有人把守。他望见那黑魆魆的人影，出现在月光雪亮的街口上。朝前走吧，一定落在那个人的手里。向后退吧，又会和沙威撞个满怀。冉阿让感到自己已经陷在一个越收越紧的罗网里了。他怀着失望的心情望向天空。

In order to understand what follows, it is requisite to form an exact idea of the Droit-Mur lane, and, in particular, of the angle which one leaves on the left when one emerges from the Rue polonceau into this lane.Droit-Mur lane was almost entirely bordered on the right, as far as the Rue petit-picpus, by houses of mean aspect; on the left by a solitary building of severe outlines, composed of numerous parts which grew gradually higher by a story or two as they approached the Rue petit-picpus side; so that this building, which was very lofty on the Rue petit-picpus side, was tolerably low on the side adjoining the Rue polonceau.There, at the angle of which we have spoken, it descended to such a degree that it consisted of merely a wall.This wall did not abut directly on the Street; it formed a deeply retreating niche, concealed by its two corners from two observers who might have been, one in the Rue polonceau, the other in the Rue Droit-Mur.
Beginning with these angles of the niche, the wall extended along the Rue polonceau as far as a house which bore the number 49, and along the Rue Droit-Mur, where the fragment was much shorter, as far as the gloomy building which we have mentioned and whose gable it intersected, thus forming another retreating angle in the street. This gable was sombre of aspect; only one window was visible, or, to speak more correctly, two shutters covered with a sheet of zinc and kept constantly closed.
The state of the places of which we are here giving a description is rigorously exact, and will certainly awaken a very precise memory in the mind of old inhabitants of the quarter.
The niche was entirely filled by a thing which resembled a colossal and wretched door; it was a vast, formless assemblage of perpendicular planks, the upper ones being broader than the lower, bound together by long transverse strips of iron. At one side there was a carriage gate of the ordinary dimensions, and which had evidently not been cut more than fifty years previously.
A linden-tree showed its crest above the niche, and the wall was covered with ivy on the side of the Rue polonceau.
In the imminent peril in which Jean Valjean found himself, this sombre building had about it a solitary and uninhabited look which tempted him.He ran his eyes rapidly over it; he said to himself, that if he could contrive to get inside it, he might save himself. First he conceived an idea, then a hope.
In the central portion of the front of this building, on the Rue Droit-Mur side, there were at all the windows of the different stories ancient cistern pipes of lead.The various branches of the pipes which led from one central pipe to all these little basins sketched out a sort of tree on the front.These ramifications of pipes with their hundred elbows imitated those old leafless vine-stocks which writhe over the fronts of old farm-houses.
This odd espalier, with its branches of lead and iron, was the first thing that struck Jean Valjean.He seated Cosette with her back against a stone post, with an injunction to be silent, and ran to the spot where the conduit touched the pavement. perhaps there was some way of climbing up by it and entering the house. But the pipe was dilapidated and past service, and hardly hung to its fastenings.Moreover, all the windows of this silent dwelling were grated with heavy iron bars, even the attic windows in the roof. And then, the moon fell full upon that facade, and the man who was watching at the corner of the street would have seen Jean Valjean in the act of climbing.And finally, what was to be done with Cosette? How was she to be drawn up to the top of a three-story house?
He gave up all idea of climbing by means of the drain-pipe, and crawled along the wall to get back into the Rue polonceau.
When he reached the slant of the wall where he had left Cosette, he noticed that no one could see him there.As we have just explained, he was concealed from all eyes, no matter from which direction they were approaching; besides this, he was in the shadow. Finally, there were two doors; perhaps they might be forced. The wall above which he saw the linden-tree and the ivy evidently abutted on a garden where he could, at least, hide himself, although there were as yet no leaves on the trees, and spend the remainder of the night.
Time was passing; he must act quickly.
He felt over the carriage door, and immediately recognized the fact that it was impracticable outside and in.
He approached the other door with more hope; it was frightfully decrepit; its very immensity rendered it less solid; the planks were rotten; the iron bands--there were only three of them--were rusted.It seemed as though it might be possible to pierce this worm-eaten barrier.
On examining it he found that the door was not a door; it had neither hinges, cross-bars, lock, nor fissure in the middle; the iron bands traversed it from side to side without any break. Through the crevices in the planks he caught a view of unhewn slabs and blocks of stone roughly cemented together, which passers-by might still have seen there ten years ago.He was forced to acknowledge with consternation that this apparent door was simply the wooden decoration of a building against which it was placed. It was easy to tear off a plank; but then, one found one's self face to face with a wall.

     为了理解下面即将叙述的事，必须正确认识直壁胡同的情况，尤其是当我们走出波隆梭街转进直壁胡同时，留在我们左边的这只角。沿着直壁胡同右边直到比克布斯小街，几乎一路上全是一些外表看来贫苦的房子；靠左一面，却只有一栋房屋，那房屋的式样比较严谨，是由好几部分组成的，它高一层或高两层地逐渐向比克布斯小街方面高上去，因此那栋房屋，在靠比克布斯小街一面，非常高，而在靠波隆梭街一面却相当矮。在我们先头提到过的那个转角地方，更是低到只有一道墙了。这道墙并不和波隆梭街构成一个四正四方的角，而是形成一道墙身厚度减薄了的斜壁，这道斜壁在它左右两角的掩护下，无论是站在波隆梭街方面的人或是站在直壁胡同方面的人都望不见。
    和这斜壁两角相连的墙，在波隆梭街方面，一直延伸到第四十九号房屋，而在直壁街一面——这面短多了——直抵先头提到过的那所黑暗楼房的山尖，并和山尖构成一个新凹角。那山尖的形状也是阴森森的，墙上只有一道窗子，应该说，只有两块板窗，板上钉了锌皮，并且是永远关着的。
    我们在这里所作的关于地形的描写与实际情况完全吻合，一定能在曾经住过这一带的人的心中唤起极其精确的回忆。斜壁的面上完全被一种东西遮满了，看起来仿佛是一道又高又大丑陋不堪的门。其实只是一些胡乱拼揍起来直钉在壁面上的条条木板，上面的板比较宽，下面的比较窄，又用些长条铁皮横钉在板上，把它们连系起来。旁边有一道大车门，大小和普通的大车门一样，从外形看，那道门的年龄大致不出五十年。
    一棵菩提树的枝桠从斜壁的顶上伸出来，靠波隆梭街一面的墙上盖满了常春藤。正在走投无路时，冉阿让看见了那所楼房，冷清清，就象里面没有人住一样，便想从那里找出路。他赶紧用眼睛打量了一遍。心里盘算，如果能钻到这里面去，或许有救。他先有了一个主意和一线希望。楼房的后窗有一部分临直壁街，在这部分中的一段，每层楼上的每个窗口，都装有旧铅皮漏斗。从一根总管分出的各种不同的排水管，连接在各个漏斗上，好象是画在后墙上面的一棵树。这些分支管，曲曲折折，也好象是一棵盘附在庄屋后墙上的枯葡萄藤。
    那种奇形怪状由铅皮管和铁管构成的枝桠最先引起冉阿让的注意。他让珂赛特靠着一块石碑坐下，叮嘱她不要作声，再跑到水管和街道相接的地方。也许有办法从这儿翻到楼房里去。可是水管已经烂了，不中用，和墙上的连系也极不牢固。况且那所冷清的房屋的每个窗口，连顶楼也计算在内，全都装了粗铁条。月光也正照着这一面，可能守在街口上的那个人会看见冉阿让翻墙。并且，珂赛特又怎么办？怎么把她弄上四层楼？
    他放弃了抓水管的念头，抓在地上，沿着墙根，又回到了波隆梭街。他回到珂赛特原先所在的斜壁下面后，发现这地方是别人看不见的。我们先头说过，他在这地方，可以避开从任何一面来的视线，并且是藏在黑影里。再说还有两道门。也许撬得开呢。在见到菩提树和常春藤的那道墙里，显然是个园子，尽管树上还没有树叶，他至少可以园中躲过下半夜。时间飞快地过去了。他得赶紧行动。
    他推推那道大车门，一下便察觉到它内外两面都被钉得严严实实。他怀着较大的希望去推那道大门。它已经破旧不堪，再加又高又阔，因而更不牢固，木板是腐朽的，长条铁皮只有三条，也全锈了。在这蛀坏了的木壁上穿个洞也许还能办到。仔细看了以后，他才知道那并不是门。它既没有门斗，也没有铰链，既没有锁，中间也没有缝。一些长条铁皮胡乱横钉在上面，彼此并不连贯。从木板的裂缝里，他隐隐约约看见三合土里的石碴和石块，十年前走过这地方的人也还能看到。他大失所望，不能不承认那外表象门的东西，只不过是一所房子背面的护墙板。撬开板子并非难事，可是板子后面还有墙。

At that moment a heavy and measured sound began to be audible at some distance.Jean Valjean risked a glance round the corner of the street.Seven or eight soldiers, drawn up in a platoon, had just debouched into the Rue polonceau.He saw the gleam of their bayonets.They were advancing towards him; these soldiers, at whose head he distinguished Javert's tall figure, advanced slowly and cautiously.They halted frequently; it was plain that they were searching all the nooks of the walls and all the embrasures of the doors and alleys.
This was some patrol that Javert had encountered--there could be no mistake as to this surmise--and whose aid he had demanded.
Javert's two acolytes were marching in their ranks.
At the rate at which they were marching, and in consideration of the halts which they were making, it would take them about a quarter of an hour to reach the spot where Jean Valjean stood. It was a frightful moment.A few minutes only separated Jean Valjean from that terrible precipice which yawned before him for the third time.And the galleys now meant not only the galleys, but Cosette lost to him forever; that is to say, a life resembling the interior of a tomb.
There was but one thing which was possible.
Jean Valjean had this peculiarity, that he carried, as one might say, two beggar's pouches:in one he kept his saintly thoughts; in the other the redoubtable talents of a convict.He rummaged in the one or the other, according to circumstances.
Among his other resources, thanks to his numerous escapes from the prison at Toulon, he was, as it will be remembered, a past master in the incredible art of crawling up without ladder or climbing-irons, by sheer muscular force, by leaning on the nape of his neck, his shoulders, his hips, and his knees, by helping himself on the rare projections of the stone, in the right angle of a wall, as high as the sixth story, if need be; an art which has rendered so celebrated and so alarming that corner of the wall of the Conciergerie of paris by which Battemolle, condemned to death, made his escape twenty years ago.
Jean Valjean measured with his eyes the wall above which he espied the linden; it was about eighteen feet in height.The angle which it formed with the gable of the large building was filled, at its lower extremity, by a mass of masonry of a triangular shape, probably intended to preserve that too convenient corner from the rubbish of those dirty creatures called the passers-by. This practice of filling up corners of the wall is much in use in paris.
This mass was about five feet in height; the space above the summit of this mass which it was necessary to climb was not more than fourteen feet.
The wall was surmounted by a flat stone without a coping.
Cosette was the difficulty, for she did not know how to climb a wall. Should he abandon her?Jean Valjean did not once think of that. It was impossible to carry her.A man's whole strength is required to successfully carry out these singular ascents.The least burden would disturb his centre of gravity and pull him downwards.
A rope would have been required; Jean Valjean had none.Where was he to get a rope at midnight, in the Rue polonceau?Certainly, if Jean Valjean had had a kingdom, he would have given it for a rope at that moment.
All extreme situations have their lightning flashes which sometimes dazzle, sometimes illuminate us.
Jean Valjean's despairing glance fell on the street lantern-post of the blind alley Genrot.
At that epoch there were no gas-jets in the streets of paris. At nightfall lanterns placed at regular distances were lighted; they were ascended and descended by means of a rope, which traversed the street from side to side, and was adjusted in a groove of the post. The pulley over which this rope ran was fastened underneath the lantern in a little iron box, the key to which was kept by the lamp-lighter, and the rope itself was protected by a metal case.
Jean Valjean, with the energy of a supreme struggle, crossed the street at one bound, entered the blind alley, broke the latch of the little box with the point of his knife, and an instant later he was beside Cosette once more.He had a rope.These gloomy inventors of expedients work rapidly when they are fighting against fatality.
We have already explained that the lanterns had not been lighted that night.The lantern in the Cul-de-Sac Genrot was thus naturally extinct, like the rest; and one could pass directly under it without even noticing that it was no longer in its place.
Nevertheless, the hour, the place, the darkness, Jean Valjean's absorption, his singular gestures, his goings and comings, all had begun to render Cosette uneasy.Any other child than she would have given vent to loud shrieks long before.She contented herself with plucking Jean Valjean by the skirt of his coat.They could hear the sound of the patrol's approach ever more and more distinctly.
"Father," said she, in a very low voice, "I am afraid.Who is coming yonder?"
"Hush!" replied the unhappy man; "it is Madame Thenardier."
Cosette shuddered.He added:--
"Say nothing.Don't interfere with me.If you cry out, if you weep, the Thenardier is lying in wait for you.She is coming to take you back."
Then, without haste, but without making a useless movement, with firm and curt precision, the more remarkable at a moment when the patrol and Javert might come upon him at any moment, he undid his cravat, passed it round Cosette's body under the armpits, taking care that it should not hurt the child, fastened this cravat to one end of the rope, by means of that knot which seafaring men call a "swallow knot," took the other end of the rope in his teeth, pulled off his shoes and stockings, which he threw over the wall, stepped upon the mass of masonry, and began to raise himself in the angle of the wall and the gable with as much solidity and certainty as though he had the rounds of a ladder under his feet and elbows. Half a minute had not elapsed when he was resting on his knees on the wall.
Cosette gazed at him in stupid amazement, without uttering a word. Jean Valjean's injunction, and the name of Madame Thenardier, had chilled her blood.
All at once she heard Jean Valjean's voice crying to her, though in a very low tone:--
"put your back against the wall."
She obeyed.
"Don't say a word, and don't be alarmed," went on Jean Valjean.
And she felt herself lifted from the ground.
Before she had time to recover herself, she was on the top of the wall.
Jean Valjean grasped her, put her on his back, took her two tiny hands in his large left hand, lay down flat on his stomach and crawled along on top of the wall as far as the cant.As he had guessed, there stood a building whose roof started from the top of the wooden barricade and descended to within a very short distance of the ground, with a gentle slope which grazed the linden-tree. A lucky circumstance, for the wall was much higher on this side than on the street side. Jean Valjean could only see the ground at a great depth below him.
He had just reached the slope of the roof, and had not yet left the crest of the wall, when a violent uproar announced the arrival of the patrol.The thundering voice of Javert was audible:--
"Search the blind alley!The Rue Droit-Mur is guarded! so is the Rue petit-picpus. I'll answer for it that he is in the blind alley."
The soldiers rushed into the Genrot alley.
Jean Valjean allowed himself to slide down the roof, still holding fast to Cosette, reached the linden-tree, and leaped to the ground. Whether from terror or courage, Cosette had not breathed a sound, though her hands were a little abraded.

     这时，从远处开始传来一种低沉而有节奏的声音。冉阿让冒险从墙角探出头来望了一眼。七八个大兵排着队，正走进波隆梭街口。他能望见熗刺闪光，他们正朝着他这方向走来。他望见沙威的高大个子走在前面，领着那队兵慢慢地审慎地前进。他们时常停下来。很明显，他们是在搜查每一个墙角，每一个门洞和每一条小道。
    毫无疑问，那是沙威在路上碰到的临时调来的一个巡逻队。沙威的两个助手也夹在他们的队伍中一道走。
    从他们的行进速度和一路上的停留计算来看，还得一刻来钟才能到达冉阿让所在的地方。这是千钩一发之际，冉阿让身临绝地，这是他生平的第三次，不出几分钟他又得完了，并且这不只是苦役牢的问题，珂赛特也将从此被断送，这就是说她今后将象孤魂野鬼一样漂泊无依了。这时只有一件事是可行的。
    冉阿让有这样的一个特点，我们可以说他身上有个褡裢，一头装着圣人的思想，一头装着囚犯的技巧。他可以根据情况，两头选择。
    在他从前在土伦的苦役牢里多次越狱的岁月中，除了其他一些本领以外，还学会了一种绝技，而且他还是长于这绝技的人中首屈一指的能手，我们记得，他能不用梯子，不用踏脚，全凭自己肌肉的力量，用后颈、肩头、臀、膝，在石块上偶有的一些棱角上稍稍撑持一下，便可在必要时，从两堵墙连接处的直角里，一直升上六层楼。二十多年前，囚犯巴特莫尔便是用这种巧技从巴黎刑部监狱的院角上逃走的，至今人们望着那墙角也还要捏一把汗，院子的那个角落也因此而出了名。
    冉阿让用眼睛估量了那堵墙的高度，并看见有棵菩提树从墙头上伸出来。那墙约莫有十八尺高。它和大楼的山尖相接，形成一个凹角，角下的墙根部分砌了一个三角形的砖石堆，大概是因为这种墙角对于过路的人们太方便了，于是砌上一个斜堆，好让他们“自重远行”。这种防护墙角的填高工事在巴黎是相当普遍的。那砖石堆有五尺来高。从堆顶到墙头的距离至多不过十四尺。墙头上铺了平石板，不带椽条。
    伤脑筋的是珂赛特。珂赛特，她，不知道爬墙。丢了她吗？冉阿让决不作如此之想。背着她上去却又不可能。他得使出全身力气才能巧妙地自个儿直升上去。哪怕是一点点累赘，也会使他失去重心栽下来。
    非得有一根绳子不可，冉阿让却没有带。在这波隆梭街，半夜里，到哪儿去找绳子呢？的确，在这关头，假使冉阿让有一个王国，他也会拿来换一根绳子的。
    任何紧急关头都有它的闪光，有时叫我们眼瞎，有时又叫我们眼明。冉阿让正在仓皇四顾时，忽然瞥见了让洛死胡同里那根路边柱子。当时巴黎的街道上一盏煤气灯都还没有。街上每隔一定距离只装上一盏回光灯，天快黑时便点上。那种路灯的上下是用一根绳子来牵引的，绳子由街这一面横到那一面，并且是安在柱子的槽里的。绕绳子的转盘关在灯下面的一只小铁盒里，钥匙由点灯工人保管，绳子在一定的高度内有一根金属管子保护着。冉阿让拿出毅力来作生死搏斗，他一个箭步便窜过了街，进了死胡同，用刀尖撬开了小铁盒的锁键，一会儿又回到了珂赛特的身边，他有了一根绳子。亡命人间的急中生智之人到了生死关头，总是眼明手快的。我们已经说过，当天晚上，没有点路灯。让洛死胡同里的灯自然也和别处一样，是黑着的，甚至有人走过也不会注意到它已不在原来的位置上了。
    当时那种时候，那种地方，那种黑暗，冉阿让的那种神色，他的那些怪举动，忽去忽来，这一切已叫珂赛特安静不下来了。要是另一个孩子早已大喊大叫起来了。而她呢，只轻轻扯着冉阿让的大衣边。他们一 直都越来越清晰地听着那巡逻队向他们走来的声音。
    “爹，”她用极低的声音说，“我怕，是谁来了？”“不要响！”那伤心人回答说，“是德纳第大娘。”珂赛特吓了一跳。他又说道：“不要说话。让我来。要是你叫，要是你哭，德纳第大娘会找来把你抓回去的。”
    冉阿让接着不慌不忙地有条有理地以简捷、稳舰准确的动作——尤其是在巡逻队和沙威随时都可以突然出现时，更不容许他一回事情两回做——解下自己的领带，绕过孩子的胳肢窝，松松地结在她身上，留了意，不让她觉得太紧，又把领带结在绳子的一端，打了一个海员们所谓的燕子结，咬着绳子的另一头，脱下鞋袜，丢过墙头，跳上土堆，开始从两墙相会的角上往高处升，动作稳健踏实，好象他脚根和肘弯都有一定的步法似的。不到半分钟，他已经跪在墙头上了。
    珂赛特直望着他发呆，一声不响。冉阿让的叮嘱和德纳第这名字早已让她麻木了。她忽然听到冉阿让的声音向她轻轻喊道：“把背靠在墙上。”
    她背墙站好。
    “不要响，不要怕。”冉阿让又说。她觉得自己离了地，往上升。
    她还不及弄清楚是怎么回事，便已到了墙头上了。冉阿让把她抱起，驮在背上，用左手握住她的两只小手，平伏在墙头上，一直爬到那斜壁上面。正如他所猜测的那样，这里有一栋小屋，屋脊和那板墙相连，屋檐离地面很近，屋顶的斜度相当平和，也接近菩提树。
    这情况很有利，因为墙里的一面比临街的一面要高许多。冉阿让朝下望去，只见地面离他还很深。他刚刚接触到屋顶的斜面，手还不曾离开墙脊，便听见一阵嘈杂的人声，巡逻队已经走到了。又听见沙威的嗓子，雷霆似的吼道：“搜这死胡同！直壁街已经有人守住了，比克布斯小街也把守住了。我肯定他就在这死胡同里。”
    大兵们一齐冲进了让洛死胡同。冉阿让扶着珂赛特，顺着屋顶滑下去，滑到那菩提树，又跳在地面上。也许是由于恐怖，也许是由于胆大，珂赛特一声也没吭。他的手上被擦去了点皮。

Jean Valjean found himself in a sort of garden which was very vast and of singular aspect; one of those melancholy gardens which seem made to be looked at in winter and at night.This garden was oblong in shape, with an alley of large poplars at the further end, tolerably tall forest trees in the corners, and an unshaded space in the centre, where could be seen a very large, solitary tree, then several fruit-trees, gnarled and bristling like bushes, beds of vegetables, a melon patch, whose glass frames sparkled in the moonlight, and an old well. Here and there stood stone benches which seemed black with moss. The alleys were bordered with gloomy and very erect little shrubs. The grass had half taken possession of them, and a green mould covered the rest.
Jean Valjean had beside him the building whose roof had served him as a means of descent, a pile of fagots, and, behind the fagots, directly against the wall, a stone statue, whose mutilated face was no longer anything more than a shapeless mask which loomed vaguely through the gloom.
The building was a sort of ruin, where dismantled chambers were distinguishable, one of which, much encumbered, seemed to serve as a shed.
The large building of the Rue Droit-Mur, which had a wing on the Rue petit-picpus, turned two facades, at right angles, towards this garden. These interior facades were even more tragic than the exterior. All the windows were grated.Not a gleam of light was visible at any one of them.The upper story had scuttles like prisons. One of those facades cast its shadow on the other, which fell over the garden like an immense black pall.
No other house was visible.The bottom of the garden was lost in mist and darkness.Nevertheless, walls could be confusedly made out, which intersected as though there were more cultivated land beyond, and the low roofs of the Rue polonceau.
Nothing more wild and solitary than this garden could be imagined. There was no one in it, which was quite natural in view of the hour; but it did not seem as though this spot were made for any one to walk in, even in broad daylight.
Jean Valjean's first care had been to get hold of his shoes and put them on again, then to step under the shed with Cosette. A man who is fleeing never thinks himself sufficiently hidden. The child, whose thoughts were still on the Thenardier, shared his instinct for withdrawing from sight as much as possible.
Cosette trembled and pressed close to him.They heard the tumultuous noise of the patrol searching the blind alley and the streets; the blows of their gun-stocks against the stones; Javert's appeals to the police spies whom he had posted, and his imprecations mingled with words which could not be distinguished.
At the expiration of a quarter of an hour it seemed as though that species of stormy roar were becoming more distant.Jean Valjean held his breath.
He had laid his hand lightly on Cosette's mouth.
However, the solitude in which he stood was so strangely calm, that this frightful uproar, close and furious as it was, did not disturb him by so much as the shadow of a misgiving. It seemed as though those walls had been built of the deaf stones of which the Scriptures speak.
All at once, in the midst of this profound calm, a fresh sound arose; a sound as celestial, divine, ineffable, ravishing, as the other had been horrible.It was a hymn which issued from the gloom, a dazzling burst of prayer and harmony in the obscure and alarming silence of the night; women's voices, but voices composed at one and the same time of the pure accents of virgins and the innocent accents of children,-- voices which are not of the earth, and which resemble those that the newborn infant still hears, and which the dying man hears already. This song proceeded from the gloomy edifice which towered above the garden.At the moment when the hubbub of demons retreated, one would have said that a choir of angels was approaching through the gloom.
Cosette and Jean Valjean fell on their knees.
They knew not what it was, they knew not where they were; but both of them, the man and the child, the penitent and the innocent, felt that they must kneel.
These voices had this strange characteristic, that they did not prevent the building from seeming to be deserted. It was a supernatural chant in an uninhabited house.
While these voices were singing, Jean Valjean thought of nothing. He no longer beheld the night; he beheld a blue sky.It seemed to him that he felt those wings which we all have within us, unfolding.
The song died away.It may have lasted a long time.Jean Valjean could not have told.Hours of ecstasy are never more than a moment.
All fell silent again.There was no longer anything in the street; there was nothing in the garden.That which had menaced, that which had reassured him,--all had vanished.The breeze swayed a few dry weeds on the crest of the wall, and they gave out a faint, sweet, melancholy sound.

     冉阿让发现自己落在某个园子里，那园子的面积很宽广，形象奇特，仿佛是一个供人冬夜观望的荒园。园地作长方形，里面有条小路，路旁有成行的大白桦树，墙角都有很高的树丛，园子中间，有一棵极高的树孤立在一片宽敞的空地上，另外还有几株果树，枝干蜷曲散乱，好象是一大丛荆棘，又有几方菜地，一片瓜田，月亮正照着玻璃瓜罩，闪闪发光，还有一个蓄水坑。几条石凳分布在各处，凳上仿佛有黑苔痕。纵横的小道两旁栽有色暗枝挺的小树。道上半是杂草，半是苔藓。
    冉阿让旁边有栋破屋，他正是从那破屋顶上滑下来的，另外还有一 堆柴枝，柴枝后面有一个石刻人像，紧靠着墙，面部已经损坏，在黑暗中隐隐露出一个不成形的脸部。
    破屋已经破烂不堪，几间房的门窗墙壁都坍塌了，其一间里堆满了东西，仿佛是个堆废料的棚子。
    那栋一面临直壁街一面临比克布斯小街的大楼房在朝园子的一侧，有两个交成曲尺形的正面。朝里的这两个正面，比朝外的两面更加显得阴惨。所有的窗口全装了铁条。一点灯光也望不见。楼上几层的窗口外面还装了通风罩，和监狱里的窗子一样。一个正面的影子正投射在另一 个正面上，并象一块黑布似的，盖在园地上。
    此外再望不见什么房屋。园子的尽头隐没在迷雾和夜色中了。不过迷蒙中还可以望见一些纵横交错的墙头，好象这园子外面也还有一些园子，也可以望见波隆梭街的一些矮屋顶。不能想象比这园子更加荒旷更加幽僻的地方了。园里一个人也没有，这很简单，是由于时间的关系，但是这地方，即使是在中午，也不象是供人游玩的。
    冉阿让要做的第一件事，便是把鞋子找回来穿上，再领着珂赛特到棚子里去。逃匿的人总觉得自己躲藏的地方不够隐蔽。孩子也一直在想着德纳第大娘，和他一样凭着本能，尽量蜷伏起来。珂赛特哆哆嗦嗦，紧靠在他身边。他们听到巡逻队搜索那死胡同和街道的一片嘈杂声，熗托撞着石头，沙威对着那些分路把守的密探们的叫喊，他又骂又说，说些什么，却一句也听不清。一刻钟过后，那种风暴以的怒吼声渐渐远了。冉阿让屏住了呼吸。
    他一直把一只手轻轻放在珂赛特的嘴上。
    此外，当时他所处的孤寂环境是那样异乎寻常的平静，以至在如此凶恶骇人近在咫尺的喧嚣中，也不曾受到丝毫惊扰。仿佛他左右的墙壁是用圣书中所说的那种哑石造成的。忽然，在这静悄悄的环境中，响起了一种新的声音，一种来自天上、美妙到无可言喻的仙音，和先头听到的咆哮恰成对比。那是从黑黢黢的万籁俱寂的深夜中传来的一阵颂主歌，一种由和声和祈祷交织成的天乐，是一些妇女的歌唱声，不过，从这种歌声里既可听出贞女们那种纯洁的嗓音，也可听出孩子们那种天真的嗓音，这不是人间的音乐，而象是一种初生婴儿继续在听，而垂死的人已经听到的那种声音。歌声是从园中最高的那所大楼里传来的。正当魔鬼们的咆哮渐渐远去时，好象黑夜中飞来了天使们的合唱。
    珂赛特和冉阿让一同跪了下来。他们不知道那是什么，他们不知道自己是在什么地方，可是他们俩，老人和孩子，忏悔者和无罪者，都感到应当跪下。那阵声音还有这么一 个特点：尽管有声，它还是使人感到那大楼象是空的。它仿佛是种从空楼中发出来的天外歌声。冉阿让听着歌声，什么都不再想了。他望见的已经不是黑夜，而是一片青天。他感到自己的心飘飘然振翅欲飞了。歌声停止了。它也许曾延续了相当长的一段时间。不过冉阿让说不清。人在出神时，从来就觉得时间过得快。一切又归于沉寂。墙外墙里都毫无声息。令人发悸的和令人安心的声音全静了下去。墙头上几根枯草在风中发着瑟缩凄楚之声。

The night wind had risen, which indicated that it must be between one and two o'clock in the morning.poor Cosette said nothing. As she had seated herself beside him and leaned her head against him, Jean Valjean had fancied that she was asleep.He bent down and looked at her.Cosette's eyes were wide open, and her thoughtful air pained Jean Valjean.
She was still trembling.
"Are you sleepy?" said Jean Valjean.
"I am very cold," she replied.
A moment later she resumed:--
"Is she still there?"
"Who?" said Jean Valjean.
"Madame Thenardier."
Jean Valjean had already forgotten the means which he had employed to make Cosette keep silent.
"Ah!" said he, "she is gone.You need fear nothing further."
The child sighed as though a load had been lifted from her breast.
The ground was damp, the shed open on all sides, the breeze grew more keen every instant.The goodman took off his coat and wrapped it round Cosette.
"Are you less cold now?" said he.
"Oh, yes, father."
"Well, wait for me a moment.I will soon be back."
He quitted the ruin and crept along the large building, seeking a better shelter.He came across doors, but they were closed. There were bars at all the windows of the ground floor.
Just after he had turned the inner angle of the edifice, he observed that he was coming to some arched windows, where he perceived a light. He stood on tiptoe and peeped through one of these windows. They all opened on a tolerably vast hall, paved with large flagstones, cut up by arcades and pillars, where only a tiny light and great shadows were visible.The light came from a taper which was burning in one corner.The apartment was deserted, and nothing was stirring in it.Nevertheless, by dint of gazing intently he thought he perceived on the ground something which appeared to be covered with a winding-sheet, and which resembled a human form. This form was lying face downward, flat on the pavement, with the arms extended in the form of a cross, in the immobility of death. One would have said, judging from a sort of serpent which undulated over the floor, that this sinister form had a rope round its neck.
The whole chamber was bathed in that mist of places which are sparely illuminated, which adds to horror.
Jean Valjean often said afterwards, that, although many funereal spectres had crossed his path in life, he had never beheld anything more blood-curdling and terrible than that enigmatical form accomplishing some inexplicable mystery in that gloomy place, and beheld thus at night.It was alarming to suppose that that thing was perhaps dead; and still more alarming to think that it was perhaps alive.
He had the courage to plaster his face to the glass, and to watch whether the thing would move.In spite of his remaining thus what seemed to him a very long time, the outstretched form made no movement. All at once he felt himself overpowered by an inexpressible terror, and he fled.He began to run towards the shed, not daring to look behind him.It seemed to him, that if he turned his head, he should see that form following him with great strides and waving its arms.
He reached the ruin all out of breath.His knees were giving way beneath him; the perspiration was pouring from him.
Where was he?Who could ever have imagined anything like that sort of sepulchre in the midst of paris!What was this strange house? An edifice full of nocturnal mystery, calling to souls through the darkness with the voice of angels, and when they came, offering them abruptly that terrible vision; promising to open the radiant portals of heaven, and then opening the horrible gates of the tomb!And it actually was an edifice, a house, which bore a number on the street! It was not a dream!He had to touch the stones to convince himself that such was the fact.
Cold, anxiety, uneasiness, the emotions of the night, had given him a genuine fever, and all these ideas were clashing together in his brain.
He stepped up to Cosette.She was asleep.

     晚风起了。这表明已到了早晨一两点钟左右。可怜的珂赛特一句话也不说。她倚在他身旁，坐在地上，头靠着他，冉阿让以为她睡着了。他低下头去望她。珂赛特的眼睛睁得溜圆，好象在负担着心事，冉阿让见了，不禁一阵心酸。
    她一直在发抖。
    “你想睡吗？”冉阿让说。
    “我冷。”她回答。过一会，她又说：
    “她还没有走吗？”
    “谁？”冉阿让说。
    “德纳第太太。”冉阿让早已忘了他先头用来唬住珂赛特的方法。“啊！”他说，“她已经走了。不用害怕。”孩子叹了一口气，好象压在她胸口上的一块石头拿走了。地是潮的，棚子全敞着，风越来越冷了。老人脱下大衣裹住珂赛特。
    “这样你觉得好一点了吧？”他说。
    “好多了，爹！”
    “那么，你等一会儿。我马上就回来。”他从破棚子里出来，顺着大楼走去，想找一处比较安稳的藏身之处。
    他看见好几扇门，但都是关了的。楼下的窗子全装了铁条。
    他刚走过那建筑物靠里一端的墙角，看见面前有几扇圆顶窗，窗子还亮着。他立在一扇这样的窗子前面，踮起脚尖朝里看。这些窗子都通到一间相当大的厅堂，地上铺了宽石板，厅中间有石柱，顶上有穹窿，一点点微光和大片的阴土相互间隔。光是从墙角上的一盏油灯里发出来的。厅里毫无声息，毫无动静。可是，仔细望去，他仿佛看见地面石板上横着一件东西，好象是个人的身体，上面盖着一条裹尸布。那东西直挺挺伏在地上，脸朝石板，两臂向左右平伸，和身体构成一个十字形，丝毫不动，死了一般。那骇人的物体，劲子上仿佛有根绳子，象蛇一象拖在石板上。
    整个厅堂全在昏暗的灯影中若隐若现，望去格外令人恐惧。
    在事后冉阿让经常说到，他一生虽然见过不少次死人，却从来不曾见过比这次更寒心更可怕的景象，他在这阴森的地方、凄清的黑夜里见到这种僵卧的人形，简直无法猜透这里面的奥妙。如果那东西是死的，那也已够使人胆寒的了，如果它也许还是活的话，那就更使人胆寒。
    他有胆量把额头抵在玻璃窗上，想看清楚那东西究竟还动不动。他看了一会儿，越看越害怕，那僵卧的人形竟一丝不动。忽然，他觉得自己被一种说不出的恐怖控制住了，不得不逃走。他朝着棚子跑回来，一 下也不敢往后看，他觉得一回头就会看到那人形迈着大步，张牙舞爪地跟在他后面。
    他心惊气喘地跑到了破屋边。膝头往下跪，腰里流着汗。他是在什么地方？谁能想到在巴黎的城中心，竟会有这种类似鬼域的地方？那所怪楼究竟是什么？好一座阴森神秘的建筑物，刚才还有天使们的歌声在黑暗中招引人的灵魂，人来了，却又陡然示以这种骇人的景象，既已允诺大开光明灿烂的天国之门，却又给人以触目惊心的坟坑墓穴！而那确是一座建筑物，一座临街的有门牌号数的房屋！这并不是梦境！他得摸摸墙上的石条才敢自信。
    寒冷，焦急，忧虑，一夜的惊恐，真使他浑身发烫了，万千思绪在他的脑子里萦绕。
    他走到珂赛特身旁，她已经睡着了。

The child had laid her head on a stone and fallen asleep.
He sat down beside her and began to think.Little by little, as he gazed at her, he grew calm and regained possession of his freedom of mind.
He clearly perceived this truth, the foundation of his life henceforth, that so long as she was there, so long as he had her near him, he should need nothing except for her, he should fear nothing except for her.He was not even conscious that he was very cold, since he had taken off his coat to cover her.
Nevertheless, athwart this revery into which he had fallen he had heard for some time a peculiar noise.It was like the tinkling of a bell.This sound proceeded from the garden.It could be heard distinctly though faintly.It resembled the faint, vague music produced by the bells of cattle at night in the pastures.
This noise made Valjean turn round.
He looked and saw that there was some one in the garden.
A being resembling a man was walking amid the bell-glasses of the melon beds, rising, stooping, halting, with regular movements, as though he were dragging or spreading out something on the ground. This person appeared to limp.
Jean Valjean shuddered with the continual tremor of the unhappy. For them everything is hostile and suspicious.They distrust the day because it enables people to see them, and the night because it aids in surprising them.A little while before he had shivered because the garden was deserted, and now he shivered because there was some one there.
He fell back from chimerical terrors to real terrors.He said to himself that Javert and the spies had, perhaps, not taken their departure; that they had, no doubt, left people on the watch in the street; that if this man should discover him in the garden, he would cry out for help against thieves and deliver him up. He took the sleeping Cosette gently in his arms and carried her behind a heap of old furniture, which was out of use, in the most remote corner of the shed.Cosette did not stir.
From that point he scrutinized the appearance of the being in the melon patch.The strange thing about it was, that the sound of the bell followed each of this man's movements.When the man approached, the sound approached; when the man retreated, the sound retreated; if he made any hasty gesture, a tremolo accompanied the gesture; when he halted, the sound ceased.It appeared evident that the bell was attached to that man; but what could that signify? Who was this man who had a bell suspended about him like a ram or an ox?
As he put these questions to himself, he touched Cosette's hands. They were icy cold.
"Ah! good God!" he cried.
He spoke to her in a low voice:--
"Cosette!"
She did not open her eyes.
He shook her vigorously.
She did not wake.
"Is she dead?" he said to himself, and sprang to his feet, quivering from head to foot.
The most frightful thoughts rushed pell-mell through his mind. There are moments when hideous surmises assail us like a cohort of furies, and violently force the partitions of our brains. When those we love are in question, our prudence invents every sort of madness.He remembered that sleep in the open air on a cold night may be fatal.
Cosette was pale, and had fallen at full length on the ground at his feet, without a movement.
He listened to her breathing:she still breathed, but with a respiration which seemed to him weak and on the point of extinction.
How was he to warm her back to life?How was he to rouse her? All that was not connected with this vanished from his thoughts. He rushed wildly from the ruin.
It was absolutely necessary that Cosette should be in bed and beside a fire in less than a quarter of an hour.

     孩子早已把头枕在一块石头上睡着了。他坐在她身边，望着她睡。望着望着，他的心慢慢安定下来了，思想也慢慢可以自由活动了。他清醒地认识到这样一个真理，也就是今后他活着的意义，他认识到，只要她在，只要他能把她留在身边，除了为了她，他什么也不需要，除了为她着想，他什么也不害怕。他已脱下自己的大衣裹在珂赛特的身上，他自己身上很冷，可是连这一点他都没有感觉到。
    这时，在梦幻中，他不止一次听见一种奇怪的声音。似乎是个受震的铃铛。那声音来自园里。声音虽弱，却很清晰。有点象夜间在牧场上听到的、那种从牲口颈脖上的铃铛所发出的微渺的乐音。
    那声音使冉阿让回过头去。他朝前望，看见园里有个人。
    那人好象是个男子，他在瓜田里的玻璃罩子中间走来走去，走走停停，时而弯下腰去，继而又立起再走，好象他正在田里拖着或撒播着什么似的。那人走起路来好象腿有些瘸。冉阿让见了为之一惊，心绪不宁的人是不断会起恐慌的。他们感到对于自己事事都是敌对的，可疑的。他们提防白天，因为白天可以帮助别人看见自己，也提防黑夜，因为黑夜可以帮助别人发觉自己。他先头为园里荒凉而惊慌，现在又为园里有人而惊慌。
    他又从空想的恐怖掉进了现实的恐怖。他想道，沙威和密探们也许还没离开，他们一定留下了一部分人在街上守望，这人如果发现了他在园里，肯定会大喊捉贼，把他交出去。他把睡着的珂赛特轻轻抱在怀里，抱到破棚最靠里的一个角落里，放在一堆无用的废家具后面。珂赛特一 点都不动。
    从这里，他再仔细观察瓜田里那个人的行动。有一件事很奇怪，铃铛的响声是随着那人的行动而起的。人走近，声音也近，人走远，声音也远。他做一个急促的动作，铃子也跟着发出一连串急促的声音，他停着不动，铃声也随即停止。很明显，铃铛是结在那人身上的，不过这是什么意思？和牛羊一样结个铃子在身上，那究竟是个什么人？
    他一面东猜西想，一面伸出手摸珂赛特的手。她的手冰冷。“啊，我的天主！”他说。他低声喊道：“珂赛特！”她不睁眼睛。他使劲推她。她还是不醒。
    “难道死了不成！”他说，随即站了起来，从头一直抖到脚。他头脑里出现了一团乱糟糟的无比恐怖的想法。有时，我们是会感到种种骇人的假想象一群魔怪一样，一齐向我们袭来，而且猛烈地震撼着我们的神经。当我们心爱的人出了事，我们的谨慎心往往会无端地产生许多狂悖的幻想。他忽然想到冬夜户外睡眠可能会送人的命。
    珂赛特脸色发青躺在他脚前的地上，一动也不动。他听她的呼吸，她还吐着气，但是他觉得她的气息已经弱得快要停止了。怎样使她暖过来呢？怎样使她醒过来呢？除了这两件事以外，他什么也不顾了。他发狂似的冲出了破屋子。一定得在一刻钟内让珂赛特躺在火前、床上。

He walked straight up to the man whom he saw in the garden. He had taken in his hand the roll of silver which was in the pocket of his waistcoat.
The man's head was bent down, and he did not see him approaching. In a few strides Jean Valjean stood beside him.
Jean Valjean accosted him with the cry:--
"One hundred francs!"
The man gave a start and raised his eyes.
"You can earn a hundred francs," went on Jean Valjean, "if you will grant me shelter for this night."
The moon shone full upon Jean Valjean's terrified countenance.
"What! so it is you, Father Madeleine!" said the man.
That name, thus pronounced, at that obscure hour, in that unknown spot, by that strange man, made Jean Valjean start back.
He had expected anything but that.The person who thus addressed him was a bent and lame old man, dressed almost like a peasant, who wore on his left knee a leather knee-cap, whence hung a moderately large bell.His face, which was in the shadow, was not distinguishable.
However, the goodman had removed his cap, and exclaimed, trembling all over:--
"Ah, good God!How come you here, Father Madeleine?Where did you enter?Dieu-Jesus! Did you fall from heaven?There is no trouble about that:if ever you do fall, it will be from there. And what a state you are in!You have no cravat; you have no hat; you have no coat!Do you know, you would have frightened any one who did not know you?No coat!Lord God!Are the saints going mad nowadays?But how did you get in here?"
His words tumbled over each other.The goodman talked with a rustic volubility, in which there was nothing alarming.All this was uttered with a mixture of stupefaction and naive kindliness.
"Who are you? and what house is this?" demanded Jean Valjean.
"Ah! pardieu, this is too much!" exclaimed the old man. "I am the person for whom you got the place here, and this house is the one where you had me placed.What!You don't recognize me?"
"No," said Jean Valjean; "and how happens it that you know me?"
"You saved my life," said the man.
He turned.A ray of moonlight outlined his profile, and Jean Valjean recognized old Fauchelevent.
"Ah!" said Jean Valjean, "so it is you?Yes, I recollect you."
"That is very lucky," said the old man, in a reproachful tone.
"And what are you doing here?" resumed Jean Valjean.
"Why, I am covering my melons, of course!"
In fact, at the moment when Jean Valjean accosted him, old Fauchelevent held in his hand the end of a straw mat which he was occupied in spreading over the melon bed.During the hour or thereabouts that he had been in the garden he had already spread out a number of them. It was this operation which had caused him to execute the peculiar movements observed from the shed by Jean Valjean.
He continued:--
"I said to myself, `The moon is bright:it is going to freeze. What if I were to put my melons into their greatcoats?'And," he added, looking at Jean Valjean with a broad smile,--"pardieu! you ought to have done the same!But how do you come here?"
Jean Valjean, finding himself known to this man, at least only under the name of Madeleine, thenceforth advanced only with caution. He multiplied his questions.Strange to say, their roles seemed to be reversed.It was he, the intruder, who interrogated.
"And what is this bell which you wear on your knee?"
"This," replied Fauchelevent, "is so that I may be avoided."
"What! so that you may be avoided?"
Old Fauchelevent winked with an indescribable air.
"Ah, goodness! there are only women in this house--many young girls. It appears that I should be a dangerous person to meet.The bell gives them warning.When I come, they go.
"What house is this?"
"Come, you know well enough."
"But I do not."
"Not when you got me the place here as gardener?"
"Answer me as though I knew nothing."
"Well, then, this is the petit-picpus convent."
Memories recurred to Jean Valjean.Chance, that is to say, providence, had cast him into precisely that convent in the Quartier Saint-Antoine where old Fauchelevent, crippled by the fall from his cart, had been admitted on his recommendation two years previously. He repeated, as though talking to himself:--
"The petit-picpus convent."
"Exactly," returned old Fauchelevent."But to come to the point, how the deuce did you manage to get in here, you, Father Madeleine? No matter if you are a saint; you are a man as well, and no man enters here."
"You certainly are here."
"There is no one but me."
"Still," said Jean Valjean, "I must stay here."
"Ah, good God!" cried Fauchelevent.
Jean Valjean drew near to the old man, and said to him in a grave voice:--
"Father Fauchelevent, I saved your life."
"I was the first to recall it," returned Fauchelevent.
"Well, you can do to-day for me that which I did for you in the olden days."
Fauchelevent took in his aged, trembling, and wrinkled hands Jean Valjean's two robust hands, and stood for several minutes as though incapable of speaking.At length he exclaimed:--
"Oh! that would be a blessing from the good God, if I could make you some little return for that!Save your life!Monsieur le Maire, dispose of the old man!"
A wonderful joy had transfigured this old man.His countenance seemed to emit a ray of light.
"What do you wish me to do?" he resumed.
"That I will explain to you.You have a chamber?"
"I have an isolated hovel yonder, behind the ruins of the old convent, in a corner which no one ever looks into.There are three rooms in it."
The hut was, in fact, so well hidden behind the ruins, and so cleverly arranged to prevent it being seen, that Jean Valjean had not perceived it.
"Good," said Jean Valjean."Now I am going to ask two things of you."
"What are they, Mr. Mayor?"
"In the first place, you are not to tell any one what you know about me. In the second, you are not to try to find out anything more."
"As you please.I know that you can do nothing that is not honest, that you have always been a man after the good God's heart. And then, moreover, you it was who placed me here.That concerns you. I am at your service."
"That is settled then.Now, come with me.We will go and get the child."
"Ah!" said Fauchelevent, "so there is a child?"
He added not a word further, and followed Jean Valjean as a dog follows his master.
Less than half an hour afterwards Cosette, who had grown rosy again before the flame of a good fire, was lying asleep in the old gardener's bed.Jean Valjean had put on his cravat and coat once more; his hat, which he had flung over the wall, had been found and picked up.While Jean Valjean was putting on his coat, Fauchelevent had removed the bell and kneecap, which now hung on a nail beside a vintage basket that adorned the wall.The two men were warming themselves with their elbows resting on a table upon which Fauchelevent had placed a bit of cheese, black bread, a bottle of wine, and two glasses, and the old man was saying to Jean Valjean, as he laid his hand on the latter's knee:"Ah!Father Madeleine! You did not recognize me immediately; you save people's lives, and then you forget them!That is bad!But they remember you! You are an ingrate!"

     他望着园里的那个人径直走去。手里捏着一卷从背心口袋里掏出来的钱。
    那人正低着头，没有看见他来。冉阿让几大步便跨到了他身边。冉阿让劈头便喊：“一百法郎！”那人吓了一跳，睁圆了眼。
    “一百法郎给您挣，”冉阿让接着又说，“如果您今晚给我一个地方过夜！”
    月亮正全面照着冉阿让惊慌的面孔。
    “啊，是您，马德兰爷爷！”那人说。这名字，在这样的黑夜里，在这样一个没有到过的地方，从这样一个陌生人的嘴里叫出来，冉阿让听了连忙朝后退。什么他都有准备，却没有料到这一手。和他说话的是一个腰驼腿瘸的老人，穿的衣服几乎象是个乡巴佬，左膝上绑着一条皮带，上面吊个相当大的铃铛。他的脸正背着光，因此看不清楚。这里，老人已经摘下帽子，哆哆嗦嗦地说道：“啊，我的天主！您怎么会在这儿的，马德兰爷爷？您是从哪儿进来的，天主耶稣！您是从天上掉下来的！这不希奇，要是您掉下来，您一定是从那上面掉下来的。瞧瞧您现在的样子！您没有领带，您没有帽子，你没有大衣！您不知道，要是人家不认识您，您才把人吓坏了呢。没有大衣！我的天主爷爷，敢是今天的诸圣天神全疯了？您是怎样到这里来的？”
    一句紧接着一句。老头儿带着乡下人的那种爽利劲儿一气说完，让人听了一点也不感到别扭。语气中夹杂着惊讶和天真淳朴的神情。
    “您是谁？这是什么宅子？”冉阿让问。
    “啊，老天爷，您是在存心开玩笑！”老头儿喊着说，“是您把我安顿在这里的，是您把我介绍到这宅子里来的，哪里的话！您会不认识我了？”
    “不认识，”冉阿让说，“您怎么会认识我的，您？”“您救过我的命。”那人说。他转过身去，一线月光正照着他的半边脸，冉阿让认出了割风老头儿。
    “啊！”冉阿让说，“是您吗？对，我认识您。”
    “幸亏还好！”老头儿带着埋怨的口气说。
    “您在这里干什么？”冉阿让接着又问。
    “嘿！我在盖我的瓜嘛！”割风老头儿，当冉阿让走近他时，他正提着一条草褥的边准备盖在瓜田上。他在园里已经呆了个把钟头，已经盖上了相当数量的草褥。先头冉阿让在棚子里注意到的那种特殊动作，这是他干这活的动作。
    他又说道：
    “我先头在想，月亮这么明，快下霜了。要不要去替我的瓜披上大氅呢？”接着，他又呵呵大笑，望着冉阿让又加上这么一句，“您也得妈拉巴子好好披上这么一件了吧！到底您是怎样进来的？”冉阿让心里寻思这人既然认得他，至少他认得马德兰这名字，自己就该格外谨慎才行。他从多方面提出问题。大有反客为主的样子，这真算得上是一件怪事。他是不速之客，反而盘问个不停。“您膝头上带着个什么响铃？”
    “这？”割风加答说：“带个响铃，好让人家听了避开我。”“怎么！好让人家避开您？”
    割风老头儿阴阳怪气地挤弄着一只眼。
    “啊，妈的！这宅子里尽是些娘儿们，一大半还是小娘儿们。据说撞着我不是好玩儿的。铃儿叫她们留神。我来了，她们好躲开。”
    “这是个什么宅子”？
    “嘿！您还不知道！”
    “的确我不知道。”
    “您把我介绍到这里来当园丁，会不知道！”
    “您就当作我不知道，回答我了吧。”
    “好吧，这不就是小比克布斯女修院！”冉阿让想起来了。两年前，割风老头儿从车上摔下来，摔坏了一条腿，因为冉阿让的介绍，圣安东尼区的女修院把他留下来，而他现在恰巧又落在这女修院里，这是巧遇，也是天意。他象对自己说话似的嘟囔着：“小比克布斯女修院！”
    “啊，归根到底，老实说，”割风接着说，“您到底是从什么地方进来的，您，马德兰爷爷？您是一个正人君子，这也白搭，您总是个男人。男人是不许到这里来的。”
    “您怎么又能来？”
    “就我这么一个男人。”
    “可是，”冉阿让接着说，“我非得在这儿待下不成。”“啊，我的天主！”割风喊着说。
    冉阿让向老头儿身边迈了一步，用严肃的声音向他说：“割风爷，我救过您的命。”
    “是我先想起这回事的。”割风回答说。
    “那么，我从前是怎样对待您的，您今天也可以怎样对待我。”割风用他两只已经老到颤巍巍的满是皱皮的手，抱住冉阿让的两只铁掌，过了好一阵说不出话来。最后他才喊道：“呵！要是我能报答您一丁点儿，那才是慈悲上帝的恩典呢！我！救您的命！市长先生，请您吩咐我这无能的老头儿吧！”一阵眉开眼笑的喜色好象改变了老人的容貌。他脸上也好象有了光彩。
    “您说我得干些什么呢？”他接着又说。
    “让我慢慢儿和您谈。您有一间屋子吗？”
    “我有一个孤零零的破棚子，那儿，在老庵子破屋后面的一个弯角里，谁也瞧不见的地方。一共三间屋子。”
    破棚隐在那破庵后面，位置确实隐蔽，谁都看不见，冉阿让也不曾发现它。
    “好的，”冉阿让说，“现在我要求您两件事。”“哪两件，市长先生？”
    “第一件，您所知道的有关我的事对谁也不说。第二件，您不追问关于我的别的事。”
    “就这么办。我知道您干的全是光明正大的事，也知道您一辈子是慈悲上帝的人。并且是您把我安顿在这儿的。那是您的事。我听您吩咐就是。”
    “一言为定。现在请跟我来。我们去找孩子。”
    “啊！”割风说，“还有个孩子！”他没有再多说一句话，象条狗①一样跟着冉阿让走。将近半个钟头之后，珂赛特已经睡在了老园丁的床上，屋中燃着一炉熊熊好火，她的脸色又转红了。冉阿让重新结上领带，穿上大衣，从墙头上丢过来的帽子也找到了，拾了回来，正当冉阿让披上大衣时，割风已经取下膝上的系铃带，走去挂在一只背箩旁的钉子上，点缀着墙壁。两个人一齐靠着桌子坐下烤火，割风早在桌上放了一块干酪、一块黑面包、一瓶葡萄酒和两个玻璃杯，老头儿把一只手放在冉阿让的膝头上，向他说：“啊！马德兰爷爷！您先头想了很久才认出我来！您救了人家的命，又把人家忘掉！呵！这很不应该！人家老惦记着您呢！您这黑良心的！”    
①以狗喻忠实朋友，不是侮称。

The events of which we have just beheld the reverse side, so to speak, had come about in the simplest possible manner.
When Jean Valjean, on the evening of the very day when Javert had arrested him beside Fantine's death-bed, had escaped from the town jail of M. sur M., the police had supposed that he had betaken himself to paris.paris is a maelstrom where everything is lost, and everything disappears in this belly of the world, as in the belly of the sea.No forest hides a man as does that crowd. Fugitives of every sort know this.They go to paris as to an abyss; there are gulfs which save.The police know it also, and it is in paris that they seek what they have lost elsewhere. They sought the ex-mayor of M. sur M. Javert was summoned to paris to throw light on their researches.Javert had, in fact, rendered powerful assistance in the recapture of Jean Valjean. Javert's zeal and intelligence on that occasion had been remarked by M. Chabouillet, secretary of the prefecture under Comte Angles. M. Chabouillet, who had, moreover, already been Javert's patron, had the inspector of M. sur M. attached to the police force of paris. There Javert rendered himself useful in divers and, though the word may seem strange for such services, honorable manners.
He no longer thought of Jean Valjean,--the wolf of to-day causes these dogs who are always on the chase to forget the wolf of yesterday,--when, in December, 1823, he read a newspaper, he who never read newspapers; but Javert, a monarchical man, had a desire to know the particulars of the triumphal entry of the "prince Generalissimo" into Bayonne. Just as he was finishing the article, which interested him; a name, the name of Jean Valjean, attracted his attention at the bottom of a page.The paper announced that the convict Jean Valjean was dead, and published the fact in such formal terms that Javert did not doubt it.He confined himself to the remark, "That's a good entry." Then he threw aside the paper, and thought no more about it.
Some time afterwards, it chanced that a police report was transmitted from the prefecture of the Seine-et-Oise to the prefecture of police in paris, concerning the abduction of a child, which had taken place, under peculiar circumstances, as it was said, in the commune of Montfermeil.A little girl of seven or eight years of age, the report said, who had been intrusted by her mother to an inn-keeper of that neighborhood, had been stolen by a stranger; this child answered to the name of Cosette, and was the daughter of a girl named Fantine, who had died in the hospital, it was not known where or when.
This report came under Javert's eye and set him to thinking.
The name of Fantine was well known to him.He remembered that Jean Valjean had made him, Javert, burst into laughter, by asking him for a respite of three days, for the purpose of going to fetch that creature's child.He recalled the fact that Jean Valjean had been arrested in paris at the very moment when he was stepping into the coach for Montfermeil.Some signs had made him suspect at the time that this was the second occasion of his entering that coach, and that he had already, on the previous day, made an excursion to the neighborhood of that village, for he had not been seen in the village itself. What had he been intending to do in that region of Montfermeil? It could not even be surmised.Javert understood it now. Fantine's daughter was there.Jean Valjean was going there in search of her.And now this child had been stolen by a stranger! Who could that stranger be?Could it be Jean Valjean?But Jean Valjean was dead.Javert, without saying anything to anybody, took the coach from the pewter platter, Cul-de-Sac de la planchette, and made a trip to Montfermeil.
He expected to find a great deal of light on the subject there; he found a great deal of obscurity.
For the first few days the Thenardiers had chattered in their rage. The disappearance of the Lark had created a sensation in the village. He immediately obtained numerous versions of the story, which ended in the abduction of a child.Hence the police report.But their first vexation having passed off, Thenardier, with his wonderful instinct, had very quickly comprehended that it is never advisable to stir up the prosecutor of the Crown, and that his complaints with regard to the abduction of Cosette would have as their first result to fix upon himself, and upon many dark affairs which he had on hand, the glittering eye of justice.The last thing that owls desire is to have a candle brought to them.And in the first place, how explain the fifteen hundred francs which he had received? He turned squarely round, put a gag on his wife's mouth, and feigned astonishment when the stolen child was mentioned to him. He understood nothing about it; no doubt he had grumbled for awhile at having that dear little creature "taken from him" so hastily; he should have liked to keep her two or three days longer, out of tenderness; but her "grandfather" had come for her in the most natural way in the world.He added the "grandfather," which produced a good effect.This was the story that Javert hit upon when he arrived at Montfermeil.The grandfather caused Jean Valjean to vanish.
Nevertheless, Javert dropped a few questions, like plummets, into Thenardier's history."Who was that grandfather? and what was his name?"Thenardier replied with simplicity:"He is a wealthy farmer. I saw his passport.I think his name was M. Guillaume Lambert."
Lambert is a respectable and extremely reassuring name. Thereupon Javert returned to paris.
"Jean Valjean is certainly dead," said he, "and I am a ninny."
He had again begun to forget this history, when, in the course of March, 1824, he heard of a singular personage who dwelt in the parish of Saint-Medard and who had been surnamed "the mendicant who gives alms."This person, the story ran, was a man of means, whose name no one knew exactly, and who lived alone with a little girl of eight years, who knew nothing about herself, save that she had come from Montfermeil.Montfermeil! that name was always coming up, and it made Javert prick up his ears.An old beggar police spy, an ex-beadle, to whom this person had given alms, added a few more details.This gentleman of property was very shy,-- never coming out except in the evening, speaking to no one, except, occasionally to the poor, and never allowing any one to approach him. He wore a horrible old yellow frock-coat, which was worth many millions, being all wadded with bank-bills. This piqued Javert's curiosity in a decided manner.In order to get a close look at this fantastic gentleman without alarming him, he borrowed the beadle's outfit for a day, and the place where the old spy was in the habit of crouching every evening, whining orisons through his nose, and playing the spy under cover of prayer.
"The suspected individual" did indeed approach Javert thus disguised, and bestow alms on him.At that moment Javert raised his head, and the shock which Jean Valjean received on recognizing Javert was equal to the one received by Javert when he thought he recognized Jean Valjean.
However, the darkness might have misled him; Jean Valjean's death was official; Javert cherished very grave doubts; and when in doubt, Javert, the man of scruples, never laid a finger on any one's collar.
He followed his man to the Gorbeau house, and got "the old woman" to talking, which was no difficult matter.The old woman confirmed the fact regarding the coat lined with millions, and narrated to him the episode of the thousand-franc bill.She had seen it! She had handled it!Javert hired a room; that evening he installed himself in it.He came and listened at the mysterious lodger's door, hoping to catch the sound of his voice, but Jean Valjean saw his candle through the key-hole, and foiled the spy by keeping silent.
On the following day Jean Valjean decamped; but the noise made by the fall of the five-franc piece was noticed by the old woman, who, hearing the rattling of coin, suspected that he might be intending to leave, and made haste to warn Javert.At night, when Jean Valjean came out, Javert was waiting for him behind the trees of the boulevard with two men.
Javert had demanded assistance at the prefecture, but he had not mentioned the name of the individual whom he hoped to seize; that was his secret, and he had kept it for three reasons: in the first place, because the slightest indiscretion might put Jean Valjean on the alert; next, because, to lay hands on an ex-convict who had made his escape and was reputed dead, on a criminal whom justice had formerly classed forever as among malefactors of the most dangerous sort, was a magnificent success which the old members of the parisian police would assuredly not leave to a new-comer like Javert, and he was afraid of being deprived of his convict; and lastly, because Javert, being an artist, had a taste for the unforeseen.He hated those well-heralded successes which are talked of long in advance and have had the bloom brushed off. He preferred to elaborate his masterpieces in the dark and to unveil them suddenly at the last.
Javert had followed Jean Valjean from tree to tree, then from corner to corner of the street, and had not lost sight of him for a single instant; even at the moments when Jean Valjean believed himself to be the most secure Javert's eye had been on him. Why had not Javert arrested Jean Valjean?Because he was still in doubt.
It must be remembered that at that epoch the police was not precisely at its ease; the free press embarrassed it; several arbitrary arrests denounced by the newspapers, had echoed even as far as the Chambers, and had rendered the prefecture timid.Interference with individual liberty was a grave matter.The police agents were afraid of making a mistake; the prefect laid the blame on them; a mistake meant dismissal. The reader can imagine the effect which this brief paragraph, reproduced by twenty newspapers, would have caused in paris: "Yesterday, an aged grandfather, with white hair, a respectable and well-to-do gentleman, who was walking with his grandchild, aged eight, was arrested and conducted to the agency of the prefecture as an escaped convict!"
Let us repeat in addition that Javert had scruples of his own; injunctions of his conscience were added to the injunctions of the prefect.He was really in doubt.
Jean Valjean turned his back on him and walked in the dark.
Sadness, uneasiness, anxiety, depression, this fresh misfortune of being forced to flee by night, to seek a chance refuge in paris for Cosette and himself, the necessity of regulating his pace to the pace of the child--all this, without his being aware of it, had altered Jean Valjean's walk, and impressed on his bearing such senility, that the police themselves, incarnate in the person of Javert, might, and did in fact, make a mistake.The impossibility of approaching too close, his costume of an emigre preceptor, the declaration of Thenardier which made a grandfather of him, and, finally, the belief in his death in prison, added still further to the uncertainty which gathered thick in Javert's mind.
For an instant it occurred to him to make an abrupt demand for his papers; but if the man was not Jean Valjean, and if this man was not a good, honest old fellow living on his income, he was probably some merry blade deeply and cunningly implicated in the obscure web of parisian misdeeds, some chief of a dangerous band, who gave alms to conceal his other talents, which was an old dodge. He had trusty fellows, accomplices' retreats in case of emergencies, in which he would, no doubt, take refuge.All these turns which he was making through the streets seemed to indicate that he was not a simple and honest man.To arrest him too hastily would be "to kill the hen that laid the golden eggs."Where was the inconvenience in waiting?Javert was very sure that he would not escape.
Thus he proceeded in a tolerably perplexed state of mind, putting to himself a hundred questions about this enigmatical personage.
It was only quite late in the Rue de pontoise, that, thanks to the brilliant light thrown from a dram-shop, he decidedly recognized Jean Valjean.
There are in this world two beings who give a profound start,-- the mother who recovers her child and the tiger who recovers his prey. Javert gave that profound start.
As soon as he had positively recognized Jean Valjean, the formidable convict, he perceived that there were only three of them, and he asked for reinforcements at the police station of the Rue de pontoise. One puts on gloves before grasping a thorn cudgel.
This delay and the halt at the Carrefour Rollin to consult with his agents came near causing him to lose the trail. He speedily divined, however, that Jean Valjean would want to put the river between his pursuers and himself.He bent his head and reflected like a blood-hound who puts his nose to the ground to make sure that he is on the right scent.Javert, with his powerful rectitude of instinct, went straight to the bridge of Austerlitz. A word with the toll-keeper furnished him with the information which he required:"Have you seen a man with a little girl?" "I made him pay two sous," replied the toll-keeper. Javert reached the bridge in season to see Jean Valjean traverse the small illuminated spot on the other side of the water, leading Cosette by the hand. He saw him enter the Rue du Chemin-Vert-Saint-Antoine; he remembered the Cul-de-Sac Genrot arranged there like a trap, and of the sole exit of the Rue Droit-Mur into the Rue petit-picpus. He made sure of his back burrows, as huntsmen say; he hastily despatched one of his agents, by a roundabout way, to guard that issue. A patrol which was returning to the Arsenal post having passed him, he made a requisition on it, and caused it to accompany him. In such games soldiers are aces.Moreover, the principle is, that in order to get the best of a wild boar, one must employ the science of venery and plenty of dogs.These combinations having been effected, feeling that Jean Valjean was caught between the blind alley Genrot on the right, his agent on the left, and himself, Javert, in the rear, he took a pinch of snuff.
Then he began the game.He experienced one ecstatic and infernal moment; he allowed his man to go on ahead, knowing that he had him safe, but desirous of postponing the moment of arrest as long as possible, happy at the thought that he was taken and yet at seeing him free, gloating over him with his gaze, with that voluptuousness of the spider which allows the fly to flutter, and of the cat which lets the mouse run.Claws and talons possess a monstrous sensuality,-- the obscure movements of the creature imprisoned in their pincers. What a delight this strangling is!
Javert was enjoying himself.The meshes of his net were stoutly knotted. He was sure of success; all he had to do now was to close his hand.
Accompanied as he was, the very idea of resistance was impossible, however vigorous, energetic, and desperate Jean Valjean might be.
Javert advanced slowly, sounding, searching on his way all the nooks of the street like so many pockets of thieves.
When he reached the centre of the web he found the fly no longer there.
His exasperation can be imagined.
He interrogated his sentinel of the Rues Droit-Mur and petit-picpus; that agent, who had remained imperturbably at his post, had not seen the man pass.
It sometimes happens that a stag is lost head and horns; that is to say, he escapes although he has the pack on his very heels, and then the oldest huntsmen know not what to say. Duvivier, Ligniville, and Desprez halt short.In a discomfiture of this sort, Artonge exclaims, "It was not a stag, but a sorcerer." Javert would have liked to utter the same cry.
His disappointment bordered for a moment on despair and rage.
It is certain that Napoleon made mistakes during the war with Russia, that Alexander committed blunders in the war in India, that Caesar made mistakes in the war in Africa, that Cyrus was at fault in the war in Scythia, and that Javert blundered in this campaign against Jean Valjean.He was wrong, perhaps, in hesitating in his recognition of the exconvict.The first glance should have sufficed him. He was wrong in not arresting him purely and simply in the old building; he was wrong in not arresting him when he positively recognized him in the Rue de pontoise.He was wrong in taking counsel with his auxiliaries in the full light of the moon in the Carrefour Rollin. Advice is certainly useful; it is a good thing to know and to interrogate those of the dogs who deserve confidence; but the hunter cannot be too cautious when he is chasing uneasy animals like the wolf and the convict.Javert, by taking too much thought as to how he should set the bloodhounds of the pack on the trail, alarmed the beast by giving him wind of the dart, and so made him run. Above all, he was wrong in that after he had picked up the scent again on the bridge of Austerlitz, he played that formidable and puerile game of keeping such a man at the end of a thread. He thought himself stronger than he was, and believed that he could play at the game of the mouse and the lion.At the same time, he reckoned himself as too weak, when he judged it necessary to obtain reinforcement.Fatal precaution, waste of precious time! Javert committed all these blunders, and none the less was one of the cleverest and most correct spies that ever existed.He was, in the full force of the term, what is called in venery a knowing dog. But what is there that is perfect?
Great strategists have their eclipses.
The greatest follies are often composed, like the largest ropes, of a multitude of strands.Take the cable thread by thread, take all the petty determining motives separately, and you can break them one after the other, and you say, "That is all there is of it!" Braid them, twist them together; the result is enormous:it is Attila hesitating between Marcian on the east and Valentinian on the west; it is Hannibal tarrying at Capua; it is Danton falling asleep at Arcis-sur-Aube.
However that may be, even at the moment when he saw that Jean Valjean had escaped him, Javert did not lose his head. Sure that the convict who had broken his ban could not be far off, he established sentinels, he organized traps and ambuscades, and beat the quarter all that night.The first thing he saw was the disorder in the street lantern whose rope had been cut. A precious sign which, however, led him astray, since it caused him to turn all his researches in the direction of the Cul-de-Sac Genrot. In this blind alley there were tolerably low walls which abutted on gardens whose bounds adjoined the immense stretches of waste land. Jean Valjean evidently must have fled in that direction.The fact is, that had he penetrated a little further in the Cul-de-Sac Genrot, he would probably have done so and have been lost.Javert explored these gardens and these waste stretches as though he had been hunting for a needle.
At daybreak he left two intelligent men on the outlook, and returned to the prefecture of police, as much ashamed as a police spy who had been captured by a robber might have been.

     我们刚才所见的，可说是这事的反面，其实它的经过是非常简单的。芳汀去世那天，沙威在死者的床边逮捕了冉阿让，冉阿让在当天晚上就已从滨海蒙特勒伊市监狱逃了出来，警署当局认为这在逃的苦役犯一定要去巴黎。巴黎是淹没一切的漩涡，是大地的渊薮，有如海洋吞没一切漩涡。任何森林都不能象那里的人流那样容易掩藏一个人的踪迹。各色各种的亡命之徒都知道这一点。他们走进巴黎，便好象进了无底洞，有些无底洞也确能解人之厄。警务部门也了解这一点，因此凡是在别处逃脱了的，他们都到巴黎来寻找。他们要在这里侦缉滨海蒙特勒伊的前任市长。沙威被调来巴黎协同破案。沙威在逮捕冉阿让这一公案中，的确是作出了有力的贡献。昂格勒斯伯爵任内的警署秘书夏布耶先生，已经注意到了沙威在这件案子上所表现的忠心和智力。夏布耶先生原就提拔过沙威，这次又把滨海蒙特勒伊的这位侦察员调到巴黎警方供职。沙威到巴黎之后，曾经多次立功，并且表现得——让我们把那字眼说出来，虽然它对这种性质的职务显得有些突兀——忠勤干练。正如天天打围的猎狗，见了今天的狼便会忘掉昨天的狼一样，以后沙威也不再去想冉阿让了，他也从来不看报纸，可是在一八二三年十二月，他忽然想到要看看报纸，那是因为他是一个拥护君主政体主义者，他要知道凯旋的“亲王大元帅”在巴荣纳①举行入城仪式的详细情况。正当他读完他关心的那一段报道之后，报纸下端有个人名，冉阿让这个名字引起了他的注意。那张报纸宣称苦役犯冉阿让已经丧命，叙述了当时的情形，言之凿凿，因而沙威深信不疑。他只说了一句：“这就算是个好下常”说了把报纸扔下了，便不再去想它了。
    不久以后，塞纳一瓦兹省的省政府送了一份警务通知给巴黎警署，通知上提到在孟费郿镇发生的一件拐带幼童案，据说案情离奇。通知上说，有个七八岁的女孩由她母亲托付给当地一个客店主人抚养，被一个不知名姓的人拐走了，女孩的名字叫珂赛特，是一个叫芳汀的女子的女儿，芳汀已经死在一个医院里，何时何地不详。通知落在沙威手里，又引起了他的疑惑。
    芳汀这名字是他熟悉的，他还记得冉阿让曾经要求过他宽限三天，好让他去领取那贱人的孩子，曾使他，沙威，笑不可抑。他又联想到冉阿让是从巴黎搭车去孟费郿时被捕的。当时还有某些迹象可以说明那是他第二次搭这路车子，他在前一日，已到那村子附近去过一次，我们说附近，是因为在村子里没人见到过他。他当时到孟费郿去干什么？没人能猜透。沙威现在可猜到了。芳汀的女儿住在那里。冉阿让要去找她。而现在这孩子被一个不知名姓的人拐走了。这个不知名姓的人究竟是谁？难道是冉阿让？可是冉阿让早已死了。沙威，没有和任何人说过这问题，便去小板死胡同，在锡盘车行雇了一辆单人小马车直奔孟费郿。他满以为可以在那里访个水落石出，结果却仍是漆黑一团。
①巴荣纳（Bayonne），法国西南部邻近西班牙的小城。亲王大元帅指昂古莱姆公爵。一八二三年四月昂古莱姆公爵率领十万法军进入西班牙，镇压资产阶级革命，年终班师回国便驻扎在此。
    德纳第夫妇在最初几天心里有些懊恼，曾走漏过一些风声。百灵鸟失踪的消息在村里传开了。立即就出现了好几种不同的传说，结果这件事被说成了幼童拐带案。这便是那份警务通知的由来。可是德纳第，他一时的气愤平息以后，凭他那点天生的聪明，又很快意识到惊动御前检察大人总不是件好事，他从前已有过一大堆不清不白的事，现在又在“拐带”珂赛特这件事上发牢骚，其后果首先就是把当局的炯炯目光引到他德纳第身上，以及他其它的暖昧勾当上来。枭鸟最忌讳的事，便是人家把烛光送到它眼前。首先，他怎能开脱当初接受那一千五百法郎的干系呢？于是他立即改变态度，堵住了他老婆的嘴，有人和他谈到那被“拐带”的孩子，便故意表示诧异，他说他自己也弄不清楚，他确是埋怨过人家一下子便把他那心疼的小姑娘“带”走了，他确实是舍不得，原想留她多待两三天，可是来找她的人是她祖父，这也是世上最平常不过的事。他添上一个祖父，效果很好。沙威来到孟费郿，听到的正是这种说法。“祖父”把冉阿让遮掩过去了。
    可是沙威在听了德纳第的故事后追问了几句，想探探虚实。
    “这祖父是个什么人？他叫什么名字？”德纳第若无其事地回答说：“是个有钱的庄稼人。我见过他的护照。我记得他叫纪尧姆?朗贝尔。”
    朗贝尔是个正派人的名字，听了能使人安心。沙威转回巴黎去了。
    “冉阿让明明死了，”他心里说，“我真傻。”他已把这件事完全丢在脑后了，可是在一八二四年三月间，他听见人家谈到圣美达教区有个怪人，外号叫“给钱的化子”。据说那是个靠收利息度日的富翁，可是谁也不知道他的真名实姓，他独自带着一个八 岁的小姑娘过活，那小姑娘只知道自己是从孟费郿来的，除此以外，她全不知道。孟费郿！这地名老挂在人们的嘴上，沙威的耳朵竖起来了。有一个教堂里当过杂务的老头，原是个作乞丐打扮的密探，他经常受到那怪人的布施，他还提供了其他一些详细的情况。“那富翁是个性情异常孤僻的人”，“他不到天黑，从不出门”，“不和任何人谈话”，“只偶然和穷人们谈谈”，“并且不让人家和他接近，他经常穿一件非常旧的黄大衣，黄大衣里却兜满了银行钞票，得值好几百万”。这些话着实打动了沙威的好厅心。为了非常近地去把那怪诞的富翁看个清楚又不惊动他，有一天，他向那当过教堂杂务的老密探借了他那身烂衣服，去蹲在他每天傍晚一面哼祈祷文、一面作侦察工作的地方。
    那“可疑的家伙”果然朝这化了装的沙威走来了，并且作了布施。沙威乘机抬头望了一眼，冉阿让惊了一下，以为见到了沙威，沙威也同样惊了一下，以为见到了冉阿让。
    但当时天色已黑，他没看真切，冉阿让的死也是正式公布过的，沙威心里还有疑问，并且是关系重大的疑问，沙威是个谨慎的人，在还有疑问时是决不动手抓人的。
    他远远跟着那人，一直跟到戈尔博老屋，找了那“老奶奶”，向她打听，那并不费多大劲儿。老奶奶证实了那件大衣里确有好几百万，还把上次兑换那张一千法郎钞票的经过也告诉了他。她亲眼看见的！她亲手摸到的！沙威租下了一间屋子。他当天晚上便住在里面。他曾到那神秘租户的房门口去偷听，希望听到他说话的声音，但是冉阿让在锁眼里见到了烛光，没有出声，他识破了那密探的阴谋。第二天，冉阿让准备溜走。但是那枚五法郎银币的落地声被老奶奶听见了，她听到钱响，以为人家要迁走，赶忙通知沙威。冉阿让晚间出去，沙威正领着两个人在路旁的树后等着他。沙威请警署派了助手，但没说出他准备逮捕谁。这是他的秘密。他有三种理由需要保密：第一，稍微泄露一点风声，便会惊动冉阿让；其次，冉阿让是个在逃的苦役犯，并且是大家都认为死了的，司法当局在当年曾把他列入“最危险的匪徒”一类，如果能捉到这样一个罪犯，将是一件非常出色的功绩，巴黎警务方面资格老的人员，决不会把这类要案给象沙威那的新进去的人办；最后，沙威是个艺术家，他要出奇制胜。他厌恶那种事先早就公开让大家谈得乏味了的胜利。他要暗中立下奇功，再突然揭示。沙威紧跟着冉阿让，从一棵树跟到另一棵树，从一个街角跟到另一个街角，眼睛没有离开过他一下。就是在冉阿让自以为极安全时，沙威的眼睛也始终盯在他身上。
    沙威当时为什么不逮捕冉阿让呢？那是因为他有所顾虑。必须记住，当时的警察并不是完全能为所欲为的，因为自由的言论还起着些约束作用。报纸曾揭发过几件违法的逮捕案，在议会里也引起了责难，以致警署当局有些顾忌。侵犯人身自由是种严重的事。警察不敢犯错误；警署署长责成他们自己负责，犯下错误，便是停职处分。二十种报纸刊出了这样一则简短新闻，试想这在巴黎会引导起的后果吧：“昨天，有个慈祥可亲的白发富翁正和他的八岁的孙女一同散步时，被人认作一个在逃的苦役犯而拘禁在警署监狱里！”
    再说，除此而外，沙威也还有他自己的顾虑，除了上级的指示，还得加上他自己良好的指示。他确是拿不大准。冉阿让一直是背对着他的，并且走在黑影里。平素的忧伤、苦恼、焦急、劳顿，加以这次被迫夜遁的新灾难，还得为珂赛特和自己寻找藏身的地方，走路也必须配合孩子的脚步，这一切，冉阿让本人在不知不觉中早已改变他走路的姿势，并且使他的行动添上一种龙钟之态，以致沙威所代表的警署也可能发生错觉，也确实会发生错觉。过分靠近他，是不可能的，他那种落魂的私塾老夫子式的服装，德纳第加给他的祖父身份，还有认为他已在服刑期间死去的想法，这些都加深了沙威思想上越来越重的疑忌。
    有那么一阵，他曾想突然走上前去检查他的证件。可是，即使那人不是冉阿让，即使那人不是一个有家财的诚实好老头，他也极可能是一 个和巴黎各种为非作歹的秘密组织有着密切和微妙关系的强人，是某一 危险黑帮的魁首，平日施些小恩小惠，这也只是一种掩人耳目的老手法，使人看不出他其他方面的能耐，他一定有党羽，有同伙，有随时可去躲藏的住处。他在街上所走的种种弯弯绕绕的路线，似乎已能证明他不是一个普通人。如果逮捕得太早，便等于“宰了下金蛋的母鸡”了。观望一下，有什么不妥当呢？沙威十分有把握，他决逃不了。
    所以他一路跟着走，心里着实踌躇，对那哑谜似的怪人，提出了上百个疑问。
    只是到了很晚的时候，在蓬图瓦兹街上，他才借着从一家的酒店里射出的强烈灯光，真切地认清了冉阿让。
    世上有两种生物的战栗会深入内心：重新找到亲生儿女的母亲和重新找到猎物的猛虎。沙威的心灵深处登时起了那样的寒战。
    他认清了那个猛不可当的逃犯冉阿让后，发现他们只是三个人，便赶到蓬图瓦兹街哨所搬了援兵。为了要握有刺的棍子，首先得戴上手套。这一耽搁，又加上在罗兰十字路口曾停下来和他的部下交换意见，几乎使他迷失了方向。可是他很快就猜到冉阿让一定会利用那条河来把自己和追踪的人隔开。他歪着头细想，好象一条把鼻尖贴近地面来分辨踪迹的猎狗。沙威凭自己的本能，会非常正确地判断，一直到走到了奥斯特里茨桥，和那收过桥税的人交谈以后，他更了解了：“您见着一个带个小孩的汉子吗？“我叫他付了两个苏。”收过桥税的人回答说。沙威走到桥上恰好望见冉阿让在河那边牵着珂赛特的手，穿过月光下的一 片空地。他看见他走进了圣安东尼绿径街，他想到前面那条陷阱似的让洛死胡同，和经过直壁街通到比克布斯小街的唯一出口。正如打围的人所说的，他“包抄出路”，他赶忙派了一名助手绕道去把守那出口。有一队打算回兵工厂营房去的巡逻兵，正走过那地方，他一并调了来，跟着他一道走。在这种场合士兵就是王牌。况且，那是一条原则，猎取野猪，就得让猎人劳心猎犬劳力。那样布置停当之后，他感到冉阿让右有让洛死胡同，左有埋伏，而他沙威本人又跟他后面，想到此处，他不禁闻了一撮鼻烟。
    于是他开始扮演好戏。在那时他真是踌躇满志杀气冲天，他故意让他的冤家东游西荡，他明明知道稳操胜券，却要尽量拖延下手的时刻，明知道人家已陷入重围，却又看着人家自由行动，对他来说，这是一种乐趣，正如让苍蝇翻腾的蜘蛛，让老鼠逃窜的猫儿，他的眼睛不离开他，心中感到无比的欢畅。猛兽的牙和鸷鸟的爪都有一种凶残的肉感，那硬是去感受被困在它们掌握中的生物那种轻微的扭动。置人死地，妙不可言！
    沙威得意洋洋。他的网是牢固的。他深信一定成功，他现在只需把拳头捏拢就是了。他有了那么多的人手，无论冉阿让多么顽强，多么勇猛，多么悲愤，即使连抵抗一下的想法也不可能有了。
    沙威缓步前进，一路上搜索街旁的每个角落，如同翻看小偷身上的每个衣袋一样。
    当他走到蜘蛛网的中心，却不见苍蝇。
    不难想象他胸中的愤怒。他追问那把守直壁街和比克布斯街街口的步哨，那位探子一直守着他的岗位没有动，绝对没有看见那人走过。牡鹿在群犬围困中有时也会蒙头混过，这就是说，也会逃脱，老猎人遇到那种事也只好哑口无言。杜维维耶①、利尼维尔和德普勒也都有过气短的时候。阿尔东日在遭到那种失败时曾经喊道：“这不是鹿，是个邪魔。”
    沙威当时也许有此同感，要同样的大吼一声。
①杜维维耶（Duvivier），路易—菲力浦时代的将军，死于一八四八年巴黎巷战。
    拿破仑在俄罗斯战争中犯了错误，亚历山大②在阿非利加战争中犯了错误，居鲁士在斯基泰③战争中犯了错误，沙威在这次征讨冉阿让战役中也犯了错误，这都是实实在在的。他当初也许不该不把那在逃的苦役犯一眼便肯定下来。最初一眼便应该解决问题。在那破屋子里时，他不该不直截了当地把他抓起来。当他在蓬图瓦兹街上确已辨认清楚时，他也不该不动手逮捕。他也不该在月光下面、在罗兰十字路口，和他的部下交换意见，当然，众人的意见是有用处的，对一条可靠的狗，也不妨了解和征询它的意见。但是在追捕多疑的野兽，例如豺狼和苦役犯时，猎人却不应当过分细密。沙威过于拘谨，他一心要先让犬群辨清足迹，于是野兽察觉了，逃了。最大的错误是：他既已在奥斯特里茨桥上重新发现踪迹，却还要耍那种危险幼稚的把戏，把那样一种人吊在一根线上。他把自己的能力估计得太高了，以为可以拿一只狮子当小鼠玩弄。同时，他把自己的能力估计得太渺小，因而会想到必须请援兵。沙威犯了这一 系列的错误，但仍不失为历来最精明和最规矩的密探之一。照狩猎的术语他完全够得上被称作一头“乖狗”。并且，谁又能是十全十美的呢？
    最伟大的战略家也有失算的时候。重大的错误和粗绳子一样，是由许多细微部分组成的，你把一把绳子分成丝缕，你把所有起决定性作用的因素一一分开，你便可把它们一一打断，而且还会说：“不过如此！”你如果把它们编起来，扭在一道，却又能产生极大的效用。那是在东方的马尔西安和西方的瓦伦迪尼安之间游移不决的阿蒂拉①，是在卡普亚晚起的汉尼拔②，是在奥布河畔阿尔西酣睡的丹东③。
    总而言之，当沙威发觉冉阿让已经逃脱之后，他并没有失去主张。
    他深信那在逃的苦役犯决走不远，他分布了监视哨，设置了陷阱和埋伏，在附近一带搜索了一整夜。他首先发现的东西便是那盏路灯的凌乱情况，灯上的绳子被拉断了。这一宝贵的破绽却正好把他引上岐途，使他的搜捕工作完全转向让洛死胡同。在那死胡同里，有几道相当矮的墙，墙后是些被圈的围墙里的广阔的荒地。冉阿让显然是从那些地方逃跑的。事实是：当初冉阿让如果向让洛死胡同底里多走上了几步，他也许真会那样做，那么他确实玩完了。沙威象寻针般地搜查了那些园子和荒地。
    黎明时，他留下的两个精干的人继续看守，自己回到了警署里，羞惭满面，活象个被小毛贼暗算了的恶霸。
②亚历山大地出往北非时，死于恶性疟疾。
③居鲁士（Gyruss），公元前六世纪波斯王，以武力扩大疆土，出征斯基泰（Scythie）时战死。斯基泰是欧洲东北亚洲西北一带的旧称。
①马尔西安（Marcien），五世纪东罗马帝国的皇帝；瓦伦尼安（Valentinien），同时代西罗马帝国皇帝；阿蒂拉（Attila）是当时入侵罗马帝国的匈奴王，他从东部帝国获得大宗赎金后，率军转向高卢，而不直趋罗马，最后为罗马大军击败。
②卡普亚（Capoue）在罗马东南，是罗马帝国的大城市。汉尼拔是公元前三世纪入侵罗马帝国后来失败的迦太基将领，攻占卡普亚后曾一度沉湎酒色之中。
③奥布河畔阿尔西（Areis—sur—Aube），在巴黎东南，是丹东（Danton）的故乡。

Nothing, half a century ago, more resembled every other carriage gate than the carriage gate of Number 62 Rue petit-picpus. This entrance, which usually stood ajar in the most inviting fashion, permitted a view of two things, neither of which have anything very funereal about them,--a courtyard surrounded by walls hung with vines, and the face of a lounging porter.Above the wall, at the bottom of the court, tall trees were visible.When a ray of sunlight enlivened the courtyard, when a glass of wine cheered up the porter, it was difficult to pass Number 62 Little picpus Street without carrying away a smiling impression of it.Nevertheless, it was a sombre place of which one had had a glimpse.
The threshold smiled; the house prayed and wept.
If one succeeded in passing the porter, which was not easy,-- which was even nearly impossible for every one, for there was an open sesame! which it was necessary to know,--if, the porter once passed, one entered a little vestibule on the right, on which opened a staircase shut in between two walls and so narrow that only one person could ascend it at a time, if one did not allow one's self to be alarmed by a daubing of canary yellow, with a dado of chocolate which clothed this staircase, if one ventured to ascend it, one crossed a first landing, then a second, and arrived on the first story at a corridor where the yellow wash and the chocolate-hued plinth pursued one with a peaceable persistency. Staircase and corridor were lighted by two beautiful windows. The corridor took a turn and became dark.If one doubled this cape, one arrived a few paces further on, in front of a door which was all the more mysterious because it was not fastened.If one opened it, one found one's self in a little chamber about six feet square, tiled, well-scrubbed, clean, cold, and hung with nankin paper with green flowers, at fifteen sous the roll.A white, dull light fell from a large window, with tiny panes, on the left, which usurped the whole width of the room.One gazed about, but saw no one; one listened, one heard neither a footstep nor a human murmur. The walls were bare, the chamber was not furnished; there was not even a chair.
One looked again, and beheld on the wall facing the door a quadrangular hole, about a foot square, with a grating of interlacing iron bars, black, knotted, solid, which formed squares-- I had almost said meshes--of less than an inch and a half in diagonal length.The little green flowers of the nankin paper ran in a calm and orderly manner to those iron bars, without being startled or thrown into confusion by their funereal contact. Supposing that a living being had been so wonderfully thin as to essay an entrance or an exit through the square hole, this grating would have prevented it.It did not allow the passage of the body, but it did allow the passage of the eyes; that is to say, of the mind. This seems to have occurred to them, for it had been re-enforced by a sheet of tin inserted in the wall a little in the rear, and pierced with a thousand holes more microscopic than the holes of a strainer.At the bottom of this plate, an aperture had been pierced exactly similar to the orifice of a letter box.A bit of tape attached to a bell-wire hung at the right of the grated opening.
If the tape was pulled, a bell rang, and one heard a voice very near at hand, which made one start.
"Who is there?" the voice demanded.
It was a woman's voice, a gentle voice, so gentle that it was mournful.
Here, again, there was a magical word which it was necessary to know. If one did not know it, the voice ceased, the wall became silent once more, as though the terrified obscurity of the sepulchre had been on the other side of it.
If one knew the password, the voice resumed, "Enter on the right."
One then perceived on the right, facing the window, a glass door surmounted by a frame glazed and painted gray.On raising the latch and crossing the threshold, one experienced precisely the same impression as when one enters at the theatre into a grated baignoire, before the grating is lowered and the chandelier is lighted. One was, in fact, in a sort of theatre-box, narrow, furnished with two old chairs, and a much-frayed straw matting, sparely illuminated by the vague light from the glass door; a regular box, with its front just of a height to lean upon, bearing a tablet of black wood. This box was grated, only the grating of it was not of gilded wood, as at the opera; it was a monstrous lattice of iron bars, hideously interlaced and riveted to the wall by enormous fastenings which resembled clenched fists.
The first minutes passed; when one's eyes began to grow used to this cellar-like half-twilight, one tried to pass the grating, but got no further than six inches beyond it.There he encountered a barrier of black shutters, re-enforced and fortified with transverse beams of wood painted a gingerbread yellow.These shutters were divided into long, narrow slats, and they masked the entire length of the grating. They were always closed.At the expiration of a few moments one heard a voice proceeding from behind these shutters, and saying:--
"I am here.What do you wish with me?"
It was a beloved, sometimes an adored, voice.No one was visible. Hardly the sound of a breath was audible.It seemed as though it were a spirit which had been evoked, that was speaking to you across the walls of the tomb.
If one chanced to be within certain prescribed and very rare conditions, the slat of one of the shutters opened opposite you; the evoked spirit became an apparition.Behind the grating, behind the shutter, one perceived so far as the grating permitted sight, a head, of which only the mouth and the chin were visible; the rest was covered with a black veil.One caught a glimpse of a black guimpe, and a form that was barely defined, covered with a black shroud. That head spoke with you, but did not look at you and never smiled at you.
The light which came from behind you was adjusted in such a manner that you saw her in the white, and she saw you in the black. This light was symbolical.
Nevertheless, your eyes plunged eagerly through that opening which was made in that place shut off from all glances.A profound vagueness enveloped that form clad in mourning.Your eyes searched that vagueness, and sought to make out the surroundings of the apparition. At the expiration of a very short time you discovered that you could see nothing.What you beheld was night, emptiness, shadows, a wintry mist mingled with a vapor from the tomb, a sort of terrible peace, a silence from which you could gather nothing, not even sighs, a gloom in which you could distinguish nothing, not even phantoms.
What you beheld was the interior of a cloister.
It was the interior of that severe and gloomy edifice which was called the Convent of the Bernardines of the perpetual Adoration. The box in which you stood was the parlor.The first voice which had addressed you was that of the portress who always sat motionless and silent, on the other side of the wall, near the square opening, screened by the iron grating and the plate with its thousand holes, as by a double visor.The obscurity which bathed the grated box arose from the fact that the parlor, which had a window on the side of the world, had none on the side of the convent.profane eyes must see nothing of that sacred place.
Nevertheless, there was something beyond that shadow; there was a light; there was life in the midst of that death.Although this was the most strictly walled of all convents, we shall endeavor to make our way into it, and to take the reader in, and to say, without transgressing the proper bounds, things which story-tellers have never seen, and have, therefore, never described.

     比克布斯小街六十二号的这道大车门，在五十年前，与任何一道大车门是完全相同的。这道门常常以一种很引人注目的方式打开了一半，门内透出两种少许凄凉的景物：一个四周墙上爬满葡萄藤的院落和一个无事徘徊的看门人的面容。院底的墙头上可以看到几株大树。当一缕阳光给那院注入生气，一杯红葡萄酒给那看门人带来愉悦时，从比克布斯小街六十二号门前走过的人一下就对它产生欢畅的感觉，但是我们看到的却是一个悲伤的地方。
    门外的人在微笑，屋里的人在祈祷和流泪。如果我们能够——这是不太容易的事情一——通过看门人这一关——这差不多对所有人都是无法做到的事，因为这里有一句话“芝麻，开门！”①是我们应该知道的，如果我们过了看门人这一关后朝右步入一间有一道夹在两面墙中、每一次只可容一个人上下的狭窄楼梯的小厅，如果我们不惧怕墙上鹅黄色的墙面和楼梯、以及楼梯两边墙脚上的浅咖啡颜色，如果我们大着胆子向上走，走过楼梯中间的第一级宽梯，然后又走过第二级宽梯，我们就来到了第一层楼的过道里，过道的墙上也粉刷了黄色的灰浆，墙底也是浅咖啡色，仿佛楼梯两边的颜色正悄然地、不屈地跟随我们上了楼似的。阳光从而扇精巧的窗子照入楼梯和过道。转了个弯过道就暗淡下来了。如果我们也拐弯，往前再走上几步，就到了一扇门前，这门却没有关上，因此看上去非常神秘。我们推门进去，就到了一间小屋里，那小屋大约有六尺见方，小方格地板，擦过了的，洁净，冷清，墙上裱着十五个苏一卷印着小绿花的甫京纸。一片晦暗的天光从左边的一大扇小方格子玻璃窗里浸进来，窗子和屋子一样宽，我们看过去，看不见一个人；我们听，也听不到一点声音，没有半点人间的气息。墙上没有装饰，地上也无家具，连一把椅子都没有。
    我们继续看，就会看到正对房门的墙上有一个一尺大小的方洞，洞口装着黑色铁条，有许多根而且坚固，交叉成方孔，我差不多会说交织成密网，孔的对角线，还不到一寸半。南京纸上的一朵朵小绿花，齐楚安详地与这些阴冷的铁条相接触，并不感到害怕，也不四处乱窜。如果有个身材纤细的人儿想试着从这方洞里进出，也必定会被它的铁网所阻拦，它不许身子出入，但让眼睛通过，也就是说，让精神通过。仿佛已有人想到了这一点，因为在那墙上稍稍偏后的地方还镶嵌了一块白铁皮，白铁皮上有许小孔，比漏勺上的孔还要小．在那铁皮的下面，开了一个口，和信箱的口一模一样。一条棉纱带子，一头搭在那有掩护的洞口右边，一头系在铃上。
    如果你牵动那条带子，小铃便会丁了当当响起来，你会听到一个人说话的声音，冷不丁声音会从你耳畔很近的地方发出，使你听到时寒毛都竖了起来。
    “哪一位？”那声音问道。那是一个女人的声音，一种柔软得叫人听了觉得悲伤的声音。到了这里，还有一句话是必须知道的。如果你不知道，那边说话的声音就沉默消失了，四周的墙壁又变得宁静了，仿佛隔墙就是阴暗骇人的坟墓。
①原是《一千零一夜》中阿里巴巴为了使宝库的门自动打开而说出的咒语，后来成了咒语或秘决的代名词。
    如果你知道那句话，那边便说道：
    “请从右边进来。”我们往右边看过去，就会看到在窗子对面，有一扇上方嵌了一个玻璃框子的灰漆玻璃门。我们拉开门闩，走过门洞，留下的印象正好象进了戏院池座周围那种装上铁栅栏的包厢，看到的是一种铁栅栏还没放下、分伎挂灯也还没点上的情形。我们确实来到了一间包厢里，玻璃门上透进些许微暗的阳光，室内暗淡，窄小，仅有两把；日椅子和一个破了的擦脚草垫，那的确是间真的包厢，还有一道与时弯一般高的栏杆，栏杆上有一块黑漆靠板。这包厢是有栅栏的，不过并非歌剧院里的那种金漆栅栏，而一排离奇古怪紊乱错杂的铁条，用些拳头般的铁樟嵌在墙里。
    起初几分种之后，当视力逐渐适应这种明暗不定的地窖，我们就会向栅栏里面张望，可是视野仅能达到离栅栏六寸远的地方。看到那儿我们的视野叉会碰见一排黑板窗，板窗上钉了几根与果酱面包一样黄的横木，让它坚固。那些板窗是由几块长而薄的木板拼成可开可关，一排板窗遮掩了整个铁栅栏的宽度，一直紧紧关闭着。
    过了一会儿，会听到有人在板窗的后面唤你并且说：“我在这儿。您找我做什么？”那声音是一个亲人的，有时是爱人的。你看不见人，你也几乎听不见呼吸。仿佛是隔着墓墙在和幽魂谈话。
    假如你符合某种必备的条件——这是不大会有的事——板窗上的一条窄木板就会在你的眼前打开，那幽魂也就显出了样子。你会在铁栅栏所许可的界限内看见一个人头出现在铁栅栏和板窗的后面，你只能看见嘴唇和下巴，其它部分都遮掩在黑纱里了，那个头在和你说话，但并不看着你，也从来不向你笑。
    光从你身后照来，使你看见她浸在光辉里，而她看见你却是在黑暗中。
    如此的情景颇具象征意义。此时你的双眼会通过那条木板缝，向那和外部世界彻底隔离的地方贪心地射去。一片模糊的薄雾笼罩着那个身穿黑衣的人影。你的双睛在薄雾中搜寻，想区分出那人影周围的事物，你立即会发觉你一切都看不见。你能看见的仅是迷蒙、黑暗、以及夹杂着垂危的冷烟、一种可怕的静谧、一种了无声息甚至连叹息声也难听到的死寂、一种什么都看不见连鬼魂也没有的阴暗。
    你在此所看见的正是一个修道院的内景。
    这就是所说的永敬会伯尔纳女修道院的那所森严肃穆的房子的内景。我们所在的这间侧室是会客厅，首先与你说话的那人是传达室小姐，她老是坐在墙那头有铁网和千孔板双重遮上的方洞旁边，一动不动也不出声。
    侧室为何如此阴暗，是因为会客厅通往尘世的这一面有扇窗子，而在通往修道院的那里却没有。凡尘之眼绝不应该窥视圣洁的地方。
    但是在黑暗的这面还是有光明，死亡里也仍有生命。纵便那修道院的门禁非常森严，我们还是想进去看一看，而且要让读者们也进去看一看，同时我们还要在恰当的范围内说些讲故事的人根本不曾见过，所以也根本不曾谈起过的事。

This convent, which in 1824 had already existed for many a long year in the Rue petit-picpus, was a community of Bernardines of the obedience of Martin Verga.
These Bernardines were attached, in consequence, not to Clairvaux, like the Bernardine monks, but to Citeaux, like the Benedictine monks. In other words, they were the subjects, not of Saint Bernard, but of Saint Benoit.
Any one who has turned over old folios to any extent knows that Martin Verga founded in 1425 a congregation of Bernardines-Benedictines, with Salamanca for the head of the order, and Alcala as the branch establishment.
This congregation had sent out branches throughout all the Catholic countries of Europe.
There is nothing unusual in the Latin Church in these grafts of one order on another.To mention only a single order of Saint-Benoit, which is here in question:there are attached to this order, without counting the obedience of Martin Verga, four congregations,-- two in Italy, Mont-Cassin and Sainte-Justine of padua; two in France, Cluny and Saint-Maur; and nine orders,--Vallombrosa, Granmont, the Celestins, the Camaldules, the Carthusians, the Humilies, the Olivateurs, the Silvestrins, and lastly, Citeaux; for Citeaux itself, a trunk for other orders, is only an offshoot of Saint-Benoit. Citeaux dates from Saint Robert, Abbe de Molesme, in the diocese of Langres, in 1098.Now it was in 529 that the devil, having retired to the desert of Subiaco--he was old--had he turned hermit?-- was chased from the ancient temple of Apollo, where he dwelt, by Saint-Benoit, then aged seventeen.
After the rule of the Carmelites, who go barefoot, wear a bit of willow on their throats, and never sit down, the harshest rule is that of the Bernardines-Benedictines of Martin Verga. They are clothed in black, with a guimpe, which, in accordance with the express command of Saint-Benoit, mounts to the chin. A robe of serge with large sleeves, a large woollen veil, the guimpe which mounts to the chin cut square on the breast, the band which descends over their brow to their eyes,--this is their dress. All is black except the band, which is white.The novices wear the same habit, but all in white.The professed nuns also wear a rosary at their side.
The Bernardines-Benedictines of Martin Verga practise the perpetual Adoration, like the Benedictines called Ladies of the Holy Sacrament, who, at the beginning of this century, had two houses in paris,-- one at the Temple, the other in the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve. However, the Bernardines-Benedictines of the petit-picpus, of whom we are speaking, were a totally different order from the Ladies of the Holy Sacrament, cloistered in the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve and at the Temple. There were numerous differences in their rule; there were some in their costume.The Bernardines-Benedictines of the petit-picpus wore the black guimpe, and the Benedictines of the Holy Sacrament and of the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve wore a white one, and had, besides, on their breasts, a Holy Sacrament about three inches long, in silver gilt or gilded copper.The nuns of the petit-picpus did not wear this Holy Sacrament.The perpetual Adoration, which was common to the house of the petit-picpus and to the house of the Temple, leaves those two orders perfectly distinct.Their only resemblance lies in this practice of the Ladies of the Holy Sacrament and the Bernardines of Martin Verga, just as there existed a similarity in the study and the glorification of all the mysteries relating to the infancy, the life, and death of Jesus Christ and the Virgin, between the two orders, which were, nevertheless, widely separated, and on occasion even hostile.The Oratory of Italy, established at Florence by philip de Neri, and the Oratory of France, established by pierre de Berulle.The Oratory of France claimed the precedence, since philip de Neri was only a saint, while Berulle was a cardinal.
Let us return to the harsh Spanish rule of Martin Verga.
The Bernardines-Benedictines of this obedience fast all the year round, abstain from meat, fast in Lent and on many other days which are peculiar to them, rise from their first sleep, from one to three o'clock in the morning, to read their breviary and chant matins, sleep in all seasons between serge sheets and on straw, make no use of the bath, never light a fire, scourge themselves every Friday, observe the rule of silence, speak to each other only during the recreation hours, which are very brief, and wear drugget chemises for six months in the year, from September 14th, which is the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, until Easter. These six months are a modification:the rule says all the year, but this drugget chemise, intolerable in the heat of summer, produced fevers and nervous spasms.The use of it had to be restricted. Even with this palliation, when the nuns put on this chemise on the 14th of September, they suffer from fever for three or four days. Obedience, poverty, chastity, perseverance in their seclusion,-- these are their vows, which the rule greatly aggravates.
The prioress is elected for three years by the mothers, who are called meres vocales because they have a voice in the chapter. A prioress can only be re-elected twice, which fixes the longest possible reign of a prioress at nine years.
They never see the officiating priest, who is always hidden from them by a serge curtain nine feet in height.During the sermon, when the preacher is in the chapel, they drop their veils over their faces. They must always speak low, walk with their eyes on the ground and their heads bowed.One man only is allowed to enter the convent,-- the archbishop of the diocese.
There is really one other,--the gardener.But he is always an old man, and, in order that he may always be alone in the garden, and that the nuns may be warned to avoid him, a bell is attached to his knee.
Their submission to the prioress is absolute and passive. It is the canonical subjection in the full force of its abnegation. As at the voice of Christ, ut voci Christi, at a gesture, at the first sign, ad nutum, ad primum signum, immediately, with cheerfulness, with perseverance, with a certain blind obedience, prompte, hilariter, perseveranter et caeca quadam obedientia, as the file in the hand of the workman, quasi limam in manibus fabri, without power to read or to write without express permission, legere vel scribere non addiscerit sine expressa superioris licentia.
Each one of them in turn makes what they call reparation. The reparation is the prayer for all the sins, for all the faults, for all the dissensions, for all the violations, for all the iniquities, for all the crimes committed on earth.For the space of twelve consecutive hours, from four o'clock in the afternoon till four o'clock in the morning, or from four o'clock in the morning until four o'clock in the afternoon, the sister who is making reparation remains on her knees on the stone before the Holy Sacrament, with hands clasped, a rope around her neck.When her fatigue becomes unendurable, she prostrates herself flat on her face against the earth, with her arms outstretched in the form of a cross; this is her only relief. In this attitude she prays for all the guilty in the universe. This is great to sublimity.
As this act is performed in front of a post on which burns a candle, it is called without distinction, to make reparation or to be at the post.The nuns even prefer, out of humility, this last expression, which contains an idea of torture and abasement.
To make reparation is a function in which the whole soul is absorbed. The sister at the post would not turn round were a thunderbolt to fall directly behind her.
Besides this, there is always a sister kneeling before the Holy Sacrament.This station lasts an hour.They relieve each other like soldiers on guard.This is the perpetual Adoration.
The prioresses and the mothers almost always bear names stamped with peculiar solemnity, recalling, not the saints and martyrs, but moments in the life of Jesus Christ:as Mother Nativity, Mother Conception, Mother presentation, Mother passion.But the names of saints are not interdicted.
When one sees them, one never sees anything but their mouths.
All their teeth are yellow.No tooth-brush ever entered that convent. Brushing one's teeth is at the top of a ladder at whose bottom is the loss of one's soul.
They never say my.They possess nothing of their own, and they must not attach themselves to anything.They call everything our; thus:our veil, our chaplet; if they were speaking of their chemise, they would say our chemise.Sometimes they grow attached to some petty object,-- to a book of hours, a relic, a medal that has been blessed.As soon as they become aware that they are growing attached to this object, they must give it up.They recall the words of Saint Therese, to whom a great lady said, as she was on the point of entering her order, "permit me, mother, to send for a Bible to which I am greatly attached.""Ah, you are attached to something! In that case, do not enter our order!"
Every person whatever is forbidden to shut herself up, to have a place of her own, a chamber.They live with their cells open. When they meet, one says, "Blessed and adored be the most Holy Sacrament of the altar!"The other responds, "Forever."The same ceremony when one taps at the other's door.Hardly has she touched the door when a soft voice on the other side is heard to say hastily, "Forever!"Like all practices, this becomes mechanical by force of habit; and one sometimes says forever before the other has had time to say the rather long sentence, "praised and adored be the most Holy Sacrament of the altar."
Among the Visitandines the one who enters says:"Ave Maria," and the one whose cell is entered says, "Gratia plena."It is their way of saying good day, which is in fact full of grace.
At each hour of the day three supplementary strokes sound from the church bell of the convent.At this signal prioress, vocal mothers, professed nuns, lay-sisters, novices, postulants, interrupt what they are saying, what they are doing, or what they are thinking, and all say in unison if it is five o'clock, for instance, "At five o'clock and at all hours praised and adored be the most Holy Sacrament of the altar!"If it is eight o'clock, "At eight o'clock and at all hours!" and so on, according to the hour.
This custom, the object of which is to break the thread of thought and to lead it back constantly to God, exists in many communities; the formula alone varies.Thus at The Infant Jesus they say, "At this hour and at every hour may the love of Jesus kindle my heart!" The Bernardines-Benedictines of Martin Verga, cloistered fifty years ago at petit-picpus, chant the offices to a solemn psalmody, a pure Gregorian chant, and always with full voice during the whole course of the office.Everywhere in the missal where an asterisk occurs they pause, and say in a low voice, "Jesus-Marie-Joseph." For the office of the dead they adopt a tone so low that the voices of women can hardly descend to such a depth.The effect produced is striking and tragic.
The nuns of the petit-picpus had made a vault under their grand altar for the burial of their community.The Government, as they say, does not permit this vault to receive coffins so they leave the convent when they die.This is an affliction to them, and causes them consternation as an infraction of the rules.
They had obtained a mediocre consolation at best,--permission to be interred at a special hour and in a special corner in the ancient Vaugirard cemetery, which was made of land which had formerly belonged to their community.
On Fridays the nuns hear high mass, vespers, and all the offices, as on Sunday.They scrupulously observe in addition all the little festivals unknown to people of the world, of which the Church of France was so prodigal in the olden days, and of which it is still prodigal in Spain and Italy.Their stations in the chapel are interminable. As for the number and duration of their prayers we can convey no better idea of them than by quoting the ingenuous remark of one of them: "The prayers of the postulants are frightful, the prayers of the novices are still worse, and the prayers of the professed nuns are still worse."
Once a week the chapter assembles:the prioress presides; the vocal mothers assist.Each sister kneels in turn on the stones, and confesses aloud, in the presence of all, the faults and sins which she has committed during the week.The vocal mothers consult after each confession and inflict the penance aloud.
Besides this confession in a loud tone, for which all faults in the least serious are reserved, they have for their venial offences what they call the coulpe.To make one's coulpe means to prostrate one's self flat on one's face during the office in front of the prioress until the latter, who is never called anything but our mother, notifies the culprit by a slight tap of her foot against the wood of her stall that she can rise. The coulpe or peccavi, is made for a very small matter--a broken glass, a torn veil, an involuntary delay of a few seconds at an office, a false note in church, etc.; this suffices, and the coulpe is made. The coulpe is entirely spontaneous; it is the culpable person herself (the word is etymologically in its place here) who judges herself and inflicts it on herself.On festival days and Sundays four mother precentors intone the offices before a large reading-desk with four places.One day one of the mother precentors intoned a psalm beginning with Ecce, and instead of Ecce she uttered aloud the three notes do si sol; for this piece of absent-mindedness she underwent a coulpe which lasted during the whole service: what rendered the fault enormous was the fact that the chapter had laughed.
When a nun is summoned to the parlor, even were it the prioress herself, she drops her veil, as will be remembered, so that only her mouth is visible.
The prioress alone can hold communication with strangers. The others can see only their immediate family, and that very rarely. If, by chance, an outsider presents herself to see a nun, or one whom she has known and loved in the outer world, a regular series of negotiations is required.If it is a woman, the authorization may sometimes be granted; the nun comes, and they talk to her through the shutters, which are opened only for a mother or sister. It is unnecessary to say that permission is always refused to men.
Such is the rule of Saint-Benoit, aggravated by Martin Verga.
These nuns are not gay, rosy, and fresh, as the daughters of other orders often are.They are pale and grave.Between 1825 and 1830 three of them went mad.

     到一八二四年这个修道院已经在比克布劳动保护小街存在很多年了，它是从属于玛尔丹?维尔加支系的伯尔纳修道会的修女们的修道院。
    正因为此这些伯尔纳修道会的修女们，和伯尔纳修道会的修士们不同，她们不属于明谷①，而是与本笃会②的修士们一样，属于西多。也就是说，她们并非圣伯尔纳的门徒，而是圣伯努瓦的门徒。
    只要是翻过一些对开本的人都会知道玛尔丹?维尔加在一四二年创建一 个伯尔纳一本笃修道会民并将总会地址设在萨拉曼卡，阿尔卡拉③为分会地址。
    那个修道会的分支遍布了欧洲全部的天主教的国家。一个修道会转移进另一个修道会，这在拉丁教会里也是寻常所见之事。
    这里牵涉到圣伯努瓦的这一系，我们在此谈谈这一系的情况，除了玛尔丹?维尔加这一支不算在内外，和它同一体系的还有四个修道会团体，两个在意大利，蒙特卡西诺和圣查斯丁?德?帕多瓦，两个在法国，克吕尼和圣摩尔；除此之外还有九个修道会也和它同一体系，瓦隆白洛查修道会，格拉蒙修道会，则肋斯定修守，卡玛尔多尔修道会，查尔特勒修道会，下层人修道会，橄榄山派修道会，西尔维斯特修道会和西多修道会；因为西多修道会本来虽然是好几个修道会的发源地，对圣伯努瓦来说，它仅仅是一个分支，西多修道会在圣罗贝尔时代就已经产生了，圣罗贝尔在一○九八年是朗格勒主教区摩莱斯姆修道院的住持。而邪魔是在五二九年从阿波罗庙旧址被驱逐的。当时他已隐居到苏比阿柯沙漠（他已老了，但是他已浪子回头了吗？），他当时是通过圣伯努瓦才住进阿波罗庙里去的，那时圣伯努瓦年仅十七岁。
    圣衣会修女们光着脚走路，颈项上绕一根柳条，而且从来不坐，除圣衣会修女们的教规之外，玛尔丹?维尔加一系的伯尔纳一本笃会修女们的教规应该是最严格的了，她们一身黑衣，遵照圣伯努瓦的特殊规定，头巾必须遮住下巴。一袭宽袖哗叽袍服，一个宽大的毛料面罩，遮住下巴的头巾方方正正地垂在胸前，一条扎额中压齐眼睛，这就是她们的装扮。除扎额帽是白色以外，其它都是黑的。刚来的学生也穿同样的衣服，一色白。那些已经发愿的修女们还外加一串念珠，挂在身旁。
    玛尔丹?维尔加一系的伯尔纳一本笃会修女们，和那些所谓圣事嬷嬷的本笃会修女们相同，全修永敬教规，本笃会的修女们。本世纪初，在巴黎有两所修道院，一所在大庙，一所在圣热纳维埃夫新街。可我们现在所说的小比克布斯的伯尔纳一本笃会修女们，和那些在圣热纳维埃夫新街和大庙出家的圣事嬷嬷们完全不属于同一个修道会，在教规上有很多区别，在服装上也有很多区别。小比克布斯的伯尔纳一本笃会修女们戴黑头巾，圣热纳维埃夫新街的本笃会的圣事嬷嬷们却戴白头巾，胸前还挂一个三寸多高银质镀金或铜质镀金的圣像。小比克布斯的修女们绝对不挂那种圣像。小比克布斯的修道院和大庙的修道一样只修永敬教规，但完全不能因为这件事情而把两个修道院搅在一处，有关这一仪式，圣事嬷嬷们和玛尔丹?维尔加系的伯尔纳会的修女们之间，只是看上去相似，恰如菲力浦?德?内里在佛罗伦萨建立的意大利经堂和皮埃尔?德?贝鲁尔在巴黎建立的法兰西经堂正是两个完全不同的间或甚至不互相愤恨的修道会，可是在关于耶稣基督的幼年、活着和死亡及关于圣母的各种神奇的研究和歌颂方面，这两个修道会之间还是有共同之点的。巴黎经堂自认为处于领先地位，因为菲力浦?德?内里仅是一个圣者，而贝鲁尔却是一个红衣主教。
①伯尔纳修道会是圣伯尔纳（salniDernar）在公元一一一五年创建的。明谷（clairvu）是法国北部奥布省（Aub）的一个小幢，圣伯尔纳在那里创立了一个有名的修道院。
②本笃会是意大利本笃（ffenedictus，约 480—550）．于五二九年在意大利中部蒙特卡西诺（Mont’CassinO）创立的。西多会（CJtestix）由法国罗贝尔（Robert’1027—1111）建立于第戎（Dijon）附近的西多乡野，因此而得名。罗贝尔主张遵守本笃会教规，故西多会又称“重整本笃会”。一一一四年伯尔纳率领三十人加入后迅速壮大起来，故后面的建会人将伯尔纳及本笃之名混称在一起。
③萨拉曼卡（Salamqnque）和阿尔卡拉（Alc81a）均是西班牙城市。
    我们再来到玛尔丹?维尔加的西班牙式的严格的教规上看看。这一支系的伯尔纳—本笃会的修女们常年食素，在封斋节和她们确定的其它很多节日中还要绝食，晚上睡一点觉就得起身，从凌晨一点开始念日课经，唱早祷，一直到三点；常年累月全睡在哗叽被单中和麦秸上，完全不洗澡不生火，每个星期五自行检视纪律，严守坚持肃静的教规，仅在课间休息时才说话，那种休息已是极短暂的，每年要穿六个月的棕色粗呢衬衫，这六 个月也是一种变通办法，按规定是全年，但是那种棕色粗呢衬衫在炙热的夏天是受不了的的，常常引发热病和神经性痉挛症，因此只得限制使用期，即便有了这种关照，修女们在九月十四日穿上这件衬衫，仍要发烧三四天。遵命，清贫，绝欲，安居在修道院里，这是她们所发之愿，教规却把她们的心扭曲为沉沉的负担。
    院长的任期为三年，由嬷嬷们选举，参加选举的嬷嬷叫做“参议嬷嬷”，原因是她们在宗教事务会上有发言权。院长只许连任两届，所以一个院长的任期最长也不过九年。
    她们从不与主祭神甫会面，她们同主祭神甫之间总悬挂着一条七尺高的哗叽。宣讲道士步上圣坛进经时，她们就扯下面罩掩住面孔．无论何时她们全得低声细语，行走时她们也只能低下头，眼望着地下，唯有一个男人可以进入这修道院，那就是这个教区的大主教。
    此外也还有另一个男人，那就是园丁，但那园丁只能是一个老头，而且为了让他独自一人永住在园子里，为了修女们能及时回避他，就在他膝间挂上一个铃铛。
    她们对院长是完全听从的。这是教规所规定的那种逆来顺受的献身精神。恰如亲领基督之命（ut voci Christi）①，体察如微，会意立行（ad nutum，ad primum signum），迅捷，愉悦，坚贞，完全服从（prompte，hilariter，perseveranter，et cecaet quadam obe－dientia），恰如工人手中的挫刀（quasi limam in manibus fabri），没有确切的指示，就不读也不写任何东西（ legere velscribere non adiscerit sine expressa superioris licentia）。
①这儿及以下括孤内的每一句拉丁文的意思都与它前面的译文相同。
    她们中间的每一人都要轮番举行她们的所谓“赎罪礼”，赎罪礼是一种替凡人免去所有过失、所有错误、所有打扰、所有暴力、所有不仁、所有罪行的祷告。举行“赎罪礼”的修女得持续十二个小时，从下午四点到凌晨四 点，或是从凌晨四点到下午四点，跪于圣像面前的一块石板上，双手合上，颈脖上有一根绳索，累得支撑不起时，就全身匍匐于地，两臂伸展，形成十 字，这是唯一的休息办法。在这种姿势里，修女替人间一切罪人祈祷，竟然崇高到了卓越的程度。
    这种仪式是在一木柱前进行的，柱子顶端点上一支白色蜡烛，为此她们随便把它称为“行赎罪礼”或“跪柱子”。修女们，因为内心自卑，所以乐意采取第二种说法，因为它有着受罪和被辱的含意①。
    “行赎罪礼”必须集中精力，柱子面前的修女，即使感到有雷火落于她背后，也绝不回头去看一下的。
    除此之外，圣像前总须有一个修女跪着。每一班跪一小时。她们就象士兵站岗一样，轮流换班，这便是所谓永敬。
    院长的嬷嬷差不多每人都要取一个意义深远的名字，这些名字不是出自于圣者和殉道者的身世，而是出自于耶稣基督一生中的某些事迹，此如诞生嬷嬷、初孕嬷嬷、贡献嬷嬷、受难嬷嬷。但并不禁用圣者的姓名。
    其他人与她们相见时，一贯只能看见她们那一张嘴，她们每个人的牙齿全是黄牙。一直都未有过一把牙刷进过这修道院的门。刷牙，在每级送走灵魂的罪过中是属于最高级别的。
    她们对所有东西从不说“我的”。她们从未有任何属于自己的东西，也没有任何不忍割舍的东西。她们对所有东西都说“我们的”，比如我们的面罩、我们的念珠，如果她们讲到自己的衬衫，也只说“我们的衬衫”。偶尔她们也会爱上一些小东西，一本日课经书、一件遗物，一枚受过祝福的纪念章。她们一旦发觉自己开始对某件东西有点依恋难舍时，便会把它送给别人。她们常常园忆泰雷比的一段话：有个贵妇人在入了圣泰雷丝修道会时对她说：“我的嬷嬷，请让我派人去把一本圣经拿来，我很想保留它。”
    “哦！您还有难以忘怀的东西！如是这样，您就不必到我们这里来呀！”
    任何都不能将自己独自关在房间里，也不能有一个“她的环境”，一间“房子”。她们打开监狱过日子。她们在相互碰面时，一个说：“愿祭坛上最高尚的圣像得到赞扬与崇拜！”另一个人就答道：“唯愿长存。”在叩旁人的房门时，也用相同的礼仪。门还没有太叩响，房间里平和的声音已急忙说出了“唯愿长存！”这与其他所有行为一样，成为习惯以后就变为呆板的动作了，偶尔，这一个的“唯愿长存”早已顺口而出，但对方还没来得及说完那句非常冗长的“愿祭坛上最高尚的圣像得到赞扬与崇拜！”
    访问会的修女们，在进入别人房间时说，“赞美玛莉亚”，在房间里迎接出的人说“仪态万千”。这是她们互相打招呼的方式，倒确实是仪态万千。每到一个钟头，这修道院的礼拜堂上的钟都须多敲三下。听到这信号这后，院长、参议嬷嬷、发愿修女、服务修女、刚来的学生①、备修生②都得将她们所说所作所想的事情一概放下，并且全部一起??如果是五点，就齐声说道：“在五点种和每一点钟，愿祭坛上最高尚的圣像得到赞扬与崇拜！”如果六点钟，就说：“在六点钟和每一点钟??”其余时间、全随着钟点以此类椎。这种习惯，目的在于中断人的思考，任何时候都把它引向上帝，很多教会都有这种习惯，只是方式各有不同而已。比如，在圣子那稣修道会里就如此说：“在这个钟点和每一个钟点，愿天主之爱激奋我心！”
①耶稣曾被绑在柱子上。
①刚来的学生是已结束备修阶段，但还未发愿的修女或修士。
②备修生是请求人院修道的初级修女或修士。
    半个世纪前，在小比克布斯幽居的玛尔丹?维尔加系的伯尔纳一本笃会，修女们在每日念经时，都用一种低低的声调唱着圣歌，地道的平咏颂①，并且还得用饱满的音色从开始念经一直唱到念经完毕，唱到弥撒经本上印着星号处，她们便不唱了只低声说着“耶稣—玛莉亚—约瑟”。在举行葬礼时，她们的声音更加低沉，低到几乎不能再低的地步，那样能产生一种凄凉的动人的效果。
    小比克布斯的修女们曾在她们在正祭台上修建了一个地窖，想把它用于安放棺木。但是“政府”??这是她们说的，不准在地窖里安放棺木。因此她们死后还得被抬出修道院。她们为这事感到难受，好象受了非法的干涉，一直不得安宁。
    她们只得到一种很小的安慰，在从前的伏吉拉尔公墓里，有一块地原是属于她们修道院的，她们得以获准，死后可以在一个特定的时间葬在这公墓里一个指定的地方。
    那些修女们在星期四和在星期日一样，必做大弥撒、晚祷和其他一切日课。除此之外，她们还得严格遵循一切小的节日，那些小的节日几乎是修院以外的人所不知道的，在旧时的法国教会里很流行，到目前只在西班牙和意大利的教会里流行了。她们时时守在圣坛上，为了表明她们祈祷的次数和每次析祷所用的时间，最好是引用她们中某个修女所说的一句单纯的话：“备修生的祈祷能吓死人，初学生的祈祷更能吓死人，发愿修女的祈祷更更要吓死人。”
    她们一星期要集中一次，院长主持，参议嬷嬷们出席。修女一个个依次走去跪在石板上，当着大家的面，高声交代她在这星期里所犯的小大错误。参议嬷嬷们听了一个修女的交代后，便交换意见，然后大声宣布惩处的办法。除了大声交代的错误外，还有所谓补赎微小错误的补赎礼。行补赎礼，就是在每日念经时，全身匍匐在院长的面前，直到院长——她们在任何时候都称她为“我们的嬷嬷”，从来不用别的称呼——在她的神职祷告椅上轻微敲一下，她才能够站起来。因为一个极小的过失修女们也要行补赎礼，如打烂一只玻璃杯，撕破一个面罩，做日课时一不小心迟到了几秒钟，在礼拜堂里唱错了一个音符，诸如此类的事都已够行补赎礼了，行补赎礼完全自发的，由罪人——从字源学出发，这个字①用在这里是恰当的——自己反省，自己处罚，每逢节日和星期日，有四个唱诗嬷嬷要在唱诗台上的四个谱架前面随着日课唱圣诗。一次，有个唱诗嬷嬷在唱一首圣诗时，那首诗本是以“看呵”开始的，可是她没有唱“看呵”而是高声唱了“多，西，梭”这三个者符，因为这一疏忽，她就行了一场和日课同样长短的补赎礼。她的这个过失之所以严重，是由于在场的修女们全都笑起来了。修女被叫到会客室去时，即使是院长，我们记得，也必须放下面罩，只把嘴巴露在外面。只有院长一人可以和外界的人交谈。其它的人都只能接见最亲的家人，见面的时候也极少。万一有个外面的人要拜访一个曾在社交中相识或喜欢的修女，就得千求万求不可，假如这是一个女的，有时还能被允许，那修女便走来和她隔着板窗谈话，除了母女和姊妹相见之外，那板窗是从来不打开的。男人来访当然一概被拒。
①不咏颂（plain—chant），欧洲中世纪的宗教音乐，旋律极少起伏。
①批 cOu1pe（补赎札）和 xoupalbe（罪人）两字同出于拉丁 coulpo。
    这是圣伯努瓦定出的教规，可是已被马尔丹?维尔加改得更加严格了。这里的修女们，与别的修会里的姑娘们不大一样，她们一点也不活泼健康。她们脸色苍白，神情阻郁。从一人二五年到一八三○年就疯掉了三人。

One is a postulant for two years at least, often for four; a novice for four.It is rare that the definitive vows can be pronounced earlier than the age of twenty-three or twenty-four years. The Bernardines-Benedictines of Martin Verga do not admit widows to their order.
In their cells, they deliver themselves up to many unknown macerations, of which they must never speak.
On the day when a novice makes her profession, she is dressed in her handsomest attire, she is crowned with white roses, her hair is brushed until it shines, and curled.Then she prostrates herself; a great black veil is thrown over her, and the office for the dead is sung.Then the nuns separate into two files; one file passes close to her, saying in plaintive accents, "Our sister is dead"; and the other file responds in a voice of ecstasy, "Our sister is alive in Jesus Christ!"
At the epoch when this story takes place, a boarding-school was attached to the convent--a boarding-school for young girls of noble and mostly wealthy families, among whom could be remarked Mademoiselle de Saint-Aulaire and de Belissen, and an English girl bearing the illustrious Catholic name of Talbot.These young girls, reared by these nuns between four walls, grew up with a horror of the world and of the age.One of them said to us one day, "The sight of the street pavement made me shudder from head to foot." They were dressed in blue, with a white cap and a Holy Spirit of silver gilt or of copper on their breast.On certain grand festival days, particularly Saint Martha's day, they were permitted, as a high favor and a supreme happiness, to dress themselves as nuns and to carry out the offices and practice of Saint-Benoit for a whole day.In the early days the nuns were in the habit of lending them their black garments.This seemed profane, and the prioress forbade it.Only the novices were permitted to lend. It is remarkable that these performances, tolerated and encouraged, no doubt, in the convent out of a secret spirit of proselytism and in order to give these children a foretaste of the holy habit, were a genuine happiness and a real recreation for the scholars. They simply amused themselves with it.It was new; it gave them a change.Candid reasons of childhood, which do not, however, succeed in making us worldlings comprehend the felicity of holding a holy water sprinkler in one's hand and standing for hours together singing hard enough for four in front of a reading-desk.
The pupils conformed, with the exception of the austerities, to all the practices of the convent.There was a certain young woman who entered the world, and who after many years of married life had not succeeded in breaking herself of the habit of saying in great haste whenever any one knocked at her door, "forever!" Like the nuns, the pupils saw their relatives only in the parlor. Their very mothers did not obtain permission to embrace them. The following illustrates to what a degree severity on that point was carried.One day a young girl received a visit from her mother, who was accompanied by a little sister three years of age. The young girl wept, for she wished greatly to embrace her sister. Impossible.She begged that, at least, the child might be permitted to pass her little hand through the bars so that she could kiss it. This was almost indignantly refused.

     她们至少要当两年的备修主，时常还是四年，初学生四年。能在二十三 岁或二十四岁以前正式发愿①那是少有的事。玛尔丹?维尔加支系的伯尔纳一 本笃会的修女们绝不容许寡妇加入她们的修会。
    她们在自己的斗室里经受着各种各样的折磨，那是外人无法想象并且她们自己也永远不该说出来的。
    初学生到了发愿的那天，大家要尽量把她打扮得齐齐整整，给她戴上白蔷薇，把她的头发弄得润泽而蜷曲，接着她伏在地上，大家给她搭上一块大黑布，唱着悼亡的诗歌，举行度亡的祭礼。在这时，全体修女排成两队，一 队从她跟前绕过，悲伤他说“我们的姐姐死了”，另一队则用洪亮的声音回 答道“她活在耶稣基督的心中。”
    在本书所讲故事发生时代，这个修院里还设有一个寄读学校。是一所为淑女们设立的寄读的学校，那些淑女中大部分是有钱人，其中有德?圣奥莱尔小姐和德?贝利桑小姐，还有一个英国姑娘，姓德?塔尔波，也是天主教里很有名声的望族。这些年轻的姑娘在那四堵围墙内受的是修女似的教育，在对这个世界的仇视中成长。一天，她们中的一位曾对我们讲了这样一句话：“我看见了街上的石头路面就会头昏脚软。”她们都穿蓝衣，戴白帽；胸前带着一个银质镀金或铜质的圣像。在一些重大的节日里，尤其是在圣玛尔泰节，她们要一整天穿着修女的服装，按照圣伯努瓦规定的仪式做日课，这对她们来讲，是一种恩典和极大的幸福。开始，修女们常把自己的黑衣借给她们穿。后来院长不许她们借用，认为这样是对圣衣的亵渎，只有初学生还可以惜用。让淑女们穿上修女的服装本是道院中一种通融的办法，带有让孩子们预尝圣衣的滋味、吸引她们逐渐走向出家的道路的隐密的目的，值得注意的是，寄读生竟会以此为真正的幸福和真正的快乐。她们只不过是觉得好玩罢了。“这是一种新东西，可以改变她们。”我们这些世俗之人却无法从那些天真雅气的想法中去体会她们为什么会那样自得其乐地拿着一根洒圣水的枝条，四人一排地站在一个谱架跟前，不停地一连唱上好几个小时。
    那些女弟子，除了苦修之外，也同样要遵守修道院里所有的教规。有个少妇，还俗之后，结婚也好多年了，却还不能改变习惯，每当有人敲她的房门时，她总还要赶紧回答：“永远如此！”寄读生和修女一样，只能在会客厅中接待她们的亲人。即使她们的母亲也不能拥抱她们。让我们看看在这方面究竟严格到何种地步。一天，有个年轻的姑娘接待她母亲的来访，她母亲还带着一个三岁的小妹妹。那年轻的姑娘，很想抱抱她的小妹妹，由于不被允许她哭了起来，她央求至少让她的的小妹妹把小手从铁栅栏缝里伸过去让她吻一下，可这也被拒绝了，这件事差点还惹起了一场风波。  ①发愿是当众宣誓出家修行，永不还俗的仪式。

None the less, these young girls filled this grave house with charming souvenirs.
At certain hours childhood sparkled in that cloister.The recreation hour struck.A door swung on its hinges.The birds said, "Good; here come the children!"An irruption of youth inundated that garden intersected with a cross like a shroud.Radiant faces, white foreheads, innocent eyes, full of merry light, all sorts of auroras, were scattered about amid these shadows.After the psalmodies, the bells, the peals, and knells and offices, the sound of these little girls burst forth on a sudden more sweetly than the noise of bees. The hive of joy was opened, and each one brought her honey. They played, they called to each other, they formed into groups, they ran about; pretty little white teeth chattered in the corners; the veils superintended the laughs from a distance, shades kept watch of the sunbeams, but what mattered it?Still they beamed and laughed. Those four lugubrious walls had their moment of dazzling brilliancy. They looked on, vaguely blanched with the reflection of so much joy at this sweet swarming of the hives.It was like a shower of roses falling athwart this house of mourning.The young girls frolicked beneath the eyes of the nuns; the gaze of impeccability does not embarrass innocence.Thanks to these children, there was, among so many austere hours, one hour of ingenuousness.The little ones skipped about; the elder ones danced.In this cloister play was mingled with heaven.Nothing is so delightful and so august as all these fresh, expanding young souls.Homer would have come thither to laugh with perrault; and there was in that black garden, youth, health, noise, cries, giddiness, pleasure, happiness enough to smooth out the wrinkles of all their ancestresses, those of the epic as well as those of the fairy-tale, those of the throne as well as those of the thatched cottage from Hecuba to la Mere-Grand.
In that house more than anywhere else, perhaps, arise those children's sayings which are so graceful and which evoke a smile that is full of thoughtfulness.It was between those four gloomy walls that a child of five years exclaimed one day: "Mother! one of the big girls has just told me that I have only nine years and ten months longer to remain here.What happiness!"
It was here, too, that this memorable dialogue took place:--
A Vocal Mother.Why are you weeping, my child?
The child (aged six). I told Alix that I knew my French history. She says that I do not know it, but I do.
Alix, the big girl (aged nine). No; she does not know it.
The Mother.How is that, my child?
Alix.She told me to open the book at random and to ask her any question in the book, and she would answer it.
"Well?"
"She did not answer it."
"Let us see about it.What did you ask her?"
"I opened the book at random, as she proposed, and I put the first question that I came across."
"And what was the question?"
"It was, `What happened after that?'"
It was there that that profound remark was made anent a rather greedy paroquet which belonged to a lady boarder:--
"How well bred! it eats the top of the slice of bread and butter just like a person!"
It was on one of the flagstones of this cloister that there was once picked up a confession which had been written out in advance, in order that she might not forget it, by a sinner of seven years:--
"Father, I accuse myself of having been avaricious.
"Father, I accuse myself of having been an adulteress.
"Father, I accuse myself of having raised my eyes to the gentlemen."
It was on one of the turf benches of this garden that a rosy mouth six years of age improvised the following tale, which was listened to by blue eyes aged four and five years:--
"There were three little cocks who owned a country where there were a great many flowers.They plucked the flowers and put them in their pockets.After that they plucked the leaves and put them in their playthings.There was a wolf in that country; there was a great deal of forest; and the wolf was in the forest; and he ate the little cocks."
And this other poem:--
"There came a blow with a stick.
"It was punchinello who bestowed it on the cat.
"It was not good for her; it hurt her.
"Then a lady put punchinello in prison."
It was there that a little abandoned child, a foundling whom the convent was bringing up out of charity, uttered this sweet and heart-breaking saying.She heard the others talking of their mothers, and she murmured in her corner:--
"As for me, my mother was not there when I was born!"
There was a stout portress who could always be seen hurrying through the corridors with her bunch of keys, and whose name was Sister Agatha.The big big girls--those over ten years of age-- called her Agathocles.
The refectory, a large apartment of an oblong square form, which received no light except through a vaulted cloister on a level with the garden, was dark and damp, and, as the children say, full of beasts. All the places round about furnished their contingent of insects.
Each of its four corners had received, in the language of the pupils, a special and expressive name.There was Spider corner, Caterpillar corner, Wood-louse corner, and Cricket corner.
Cricket corner was near the kitchen and was highly esteemed. It was not so cold there as elsewhere.From the refectory the names had passed to the boarding-school, and there served as in the old College Mazarin to distinguish four nations.Every pupil belonged to one of these four nations according to the corner of the refectory in which she sat at meals.One day Monseigneur the Archbishop while making his pastoral visit saw a pretty little rosy girl with beautiful golden hair enter the class-room through which he was passing.
He inquired of another pupil, a charming brunette with rosy cheeks, who stood near him:--
"Who is that?"
"She is a spider, Monseigneur."
"Bah!And that one yonder?"
"She is a cricket."
"And that one?"
"She is a caterpillar."
"Really! and yourself?"
"I am a wood-louse, Monseigneur."
Every house of this sort has its own peculiarities.At the beginning of this century Ecouen was one of those strict and graceful places where young girls pass their childhood in a shadow that is almost august. At Ecouen, in order to take rank in the procession of the Holy Sacrament, a distinction was made between virgins and florists. There were also the "dais" and the "censors,"--the first who held the cords of the dais, and the others who carried incense before the Holy Sacrament.The flowers belonged by right to the florists. Four "virgins" walked in advance.On the morning of that great day it was no rare thing to hear the question put in the dormitory, "Who is a virgin?"
Madame Campan used to quote this saying of a "little one" of seven years, to a "big girl" of sixteen, who took the head of the procession, while she, the little one, remained at the rear, "You are a virgin, but I am not."

     那些年轻的姑娘在这严肃的院子里也留下过一些轻快的事情。有些时候，那修道院中也会洋溢起天真的气氛。休息的钟声响了，园门突然打开。小鸟们说：“好啊！孩子们快出来了！”随即就涌出一群孩子，在那片象殓中一样被一个十字架划分的园地上跑散开来，无数容光焕发的面容、白哲的头额、烁亮微笑的眼睛和各种曙光晓色都在那阴沉的园里缤纷飞舞。在歌声、钟声、铃声、报丧钟、日课以后，突然出现了小女孩声音，比蜜蜂群的鸣叫更为动听。欢乐的蜂巢开放了，并且每一个都带来了蜜汁。大家一起游戏，相互打招呼，三五成群地互相追逐；在角落里小巧洁白的牙齿在喃喃私语，而那戴面罩的却躲在远处窃听她们的笑声，黑暗窥伺着光明，但是无关紧要！大家照样欢乐，照样畅笑。那四道沉闷的高墙也有了它们片刻的欢畅。它们处在蜂群的嬉戏攘扰之中，面对那么多的欢笑，也多少受到一点春光的影响，那好象是一阵荡涤忧伤的玫瑰雨。小姑娘们在那些修女的面前痛快地戏嬉，吹毛求疵的目光并能妨碍活泼天真的个性。幸而有这些孩子，这才在那么多的清规戒律中见出一点天真的欢乐，小的跳。大的舞。在那修道院中，游戏的欢乐，使人恍如登上九重天。没有什么能比所有这些欢跃纯洁的灵魂更为优美庄严的了。荷马若是知道了，他也会来这里与贝洛①同乐，在悲惨的园子里有青春，有健康，有人声，有叫嚷，有天真，有乐趣，有幸福，这能使所有的老妈妈笑逐颜开，无论是史诗里的还是童话中的，宫廷中的还是茅屋里的，从赫卡伯②直到老大妈。
①贝洛（P．Ttult）．十七世纪法国诗人和童话作家。
②赫卡伯（Hecute），特洛伊最后一个国王普里阿摩之妻，赫克托尔之母。
    “孩子活”总是很有风趣的，能使人发笑，诱人深思，任何其他地方说的孩子话也许都不如那修道院中的多。下面这句话便是一个五岁的孩子一天在那四道惨不忍睹的墙里说来的：“妈！一个大姐姐刚才对我说，我只需在这里再待上九年零十个月就够了。多好的运气啊！”
    这下面一段难忘的对话也是发生在那里的：一个参议嬷嬷：“你为什么哭，我的孩子？”孩子（六岁）痛哭着说：“我告诉阿利克斯说，我已读熟了法国史。可她说我没有读熟，我读熟了。”
    阿利克斯（大姑娘，九岁）：“不。她没有读熟。”嬷嬷，“怎么会呢，我的孩子？”阿利克斯：“她要我随便打开书，提出一个问题来问她，她说她都能回答。”
    “以后呢？”
    “她没有回答出来。”
    “你说。你向她提了什么问题？”
    “我照她说的随便打开了，把我最先看到的一个问题提出来问她。”
    “那问题是什么样的？”
    “那问题是：后来发生了什么事？”也是在那里，有位太太带着孩子在那里寄读，那小女孩有些贪馋，有人仔细观察她之后发现：
    “这孩子很乖巧！她只吃面包上的那层果酱，简直就象个大人一样！”下面一张仟悔饲是在那修道院中石板地上拾到的，这是一个七岁的犯罪姑娘事先写好以免忘记的：“父啊，我控告我吝啬。”
    “父啊，我控告我淫乱。”
    “父啊，我控告曾抬起眼睛看男人。”下面这个童话是一张六岁的樱红小嘴在那园里草地上临时编出来讲给四五岁的蓝眼睛听的：“从前有三只小公鸡，它们有一块地，那里有很多花。它们采下花，放在它们的口袋中，后来，它们又采了叶子，放在它们的小玩具里。在那地方有只狼，也有许多树，狼在树林中，吃了这些小公鸡。”
    还有这样一首诗：来了一棍。
    那波里希内儿①给猫的一棍。那对猫没有好处，只有难受。于是有位太太就把波里希内儿监禁。
    有一个被遗弃的私生女，修道院为了行善将她收养了，她在那时里说过这样一句幼稚好笑的话。她听到别人在谈她们的母亲，她就在一旁悄悄他说：“我嘛，我出生的时候，我母亲不在我身边！”
    那里有个跑腿的肥胖女佣人，经常带着一大串钥匙，急急忙忙地在那些过道里跑来跑去，她的名叫阿加特嬷嬷。那些“大姑娘”——十岁以上的——称为她阿加多克莱①。
    食堂是一间长方形的大房间，阳光从和花园处于同一水平面的圆拱回廊那里照进去，大厅里黑暗潮湿，按照孩子们的说法，满是虫子。大厅中四处都有昆虫。于是四个墙角用些寄读生的话来说，都得到了一个形象化的专用名词。有蜘蛛角、毛虫角、草鞋虫角和蛐蛐角。蛐蛐角靠近厨房，是极受重视的。那里比别处暖。食堂里的这些名称继又转用一寄读学校，用来区分四 个区，正如从前的马萨林②学院那样。每个学生都按她吃饭时在食堂里所坐的地方而属于某一个区。一天，大主都来巡视，正穿过教室，看见一个金发朱唇的美丽小姑娘走进来，便问他身边的另一个桃腮褐发的漂亮姑娘：“那个小姑娘叫什么？”
    “大人，她叫蜘蛛。”
    “哟！那一个呢？”
    “那是个蛐蛐。”
    “还有那一个呢？”
    “那是条毛虫，”
    “真是奇怪，那么你自己呢？”
    “大人，我是个草鞋虫。”
①波里内儿（Polichinelle），法国木偶剧中的小丑，鸡胸龟背，大长鼻子，声音尖哑，爱吵闹。
①阿加多克莱（AgathOclc．）是公元前三世纪西西里锡腊库扎城的暴君，读音又和 A8athett11 6es（带着许多钥匙的阿加特）相同。
②马萨林（Mborin），红衣主教，路易十三和路易十四的首相，他创立了一个马萨林学院，招收新占领地区的学生并将学院校阴新占领地区分为四区。
    凡是这类性质的团体都自有特色。在本世纪初，艾古安也是一处让小姑娘们阴郁沉闷环境中长大的那种庄严有致的地方。在艾古安参加圣体游行的行列中，有所谓童贞和献花女。也还有幔亭队和香炉队，前者牵慢亭的挽带，后者持香炉熏圣体。鲜花当然由献花女捧着、四个“童贞女”走在前面。在那盛大节日的清晨，寝室里常会听到这样的问话：“谁是童贞女？”康邦夫人曾说到过有一个七岁的小姑娘曾对一个在游行队列前面领头的十六岁大姑娘说过一句话，当时那小姑娘走在行列的最后：“你是童贞女，你；我，我不是童贞女。”

Above the door of the refectory this prayer, which was called the white paternoster, and which possessed the property of bearing people straight to paradise, was inscribed in large black letters:--
"Little white paternoster, which God made, which God said, which God placed in paradise.In the evening, when I went to bed, I found three angels sitting on my bed, one at the foot, two at the head, the good Virgin Mary in the middle, who told me to lie down without hesitation.The good God is my father, the good Virgin is my mother, the three apostles are my brothers, the three virgins are my sisters.The shirt in which God was born envelopes my body; Saint Margaret's cross is written on my breast. Madame the Virgin was walking through the meadows, weeping for God, when she met M. Saint John.`Monsieur Saint John, whence come you?' `I come from Ave Salus.'`You have not seen the good God; where is he?' `He is on the tree of the Cross, his feet hanging, his hands nailed, a little cap of white thorns on his head.'Whoever shall say this thrice at eventide, thrice in the morning, shall win paradise at the last."
In 1827 this characteristic orison had disappeared from the wall under a triple coating of daubing paint.At the present time it is finally disappearing from the memories of several who were young girls then, and who are old women now.
A large crucifix fastened to the wall completed the decoration of this refectory, whose only door, as we think we have mentioned, opened on the garden.Two narrow tables, each flanked by two wooden benches, formed two long parallel lines from one end to the other of the refectory.The walls were white, the tables were black; these two mourning colors constitute the only variety in convents.The meals were plain, and the food of the children themselves severe.A single dish of meat and vegetables combined, or salt fish--such was their luxury.This meagre fare, which was reserved for the pupils alone, was, nevertheless, an exception. The children ate in silence, under the eye of the mother whose turn it was, who, if a fly took a notion to fly or to hum against the rule, opened and shut a wooden book from time to time. This silence was seasoned with the lives of the saints, read aloud from a little pulpit with a desk, which was situated at the foot of the crucifix.The reader was one of the big girls, in weekly turn. At regular distances, on the bare tables, there were large, varnished bowls in which the pupils washed their own silver cups and knives and forks, and into which they sometimes threw some scrap of tough meat or spoiled fish; this was punished.These bowls were called ronds d'eau. The child who broke the silence "made a cross with her tongue."Where?On the ground.She licked the pavement. The dust, that end of all joys, was charged with the chastisement of those poor little rose-leaves which had been guilty of chirping.
There was in the convent a book which has never been printed except as a unique copy, and which it is forbidden to read.It is the rule of Saint-Benoit. An arcanum which no profane eye must penetrate. Nemo regulas, seu constitutiones nostras, externis communicabit.
The pupils one day succeeded in getting possession of this book, and set to reading it with avidity, a reading which was often interrupted by the fear of being caught, which caused them to close the volume precipitately.
From the great danger thus incurred they derived but a very moderate amount of pleasure.The most "interesting thing" they found were some unintelligible pages about the sins of young boys.
They played in an alley of the garden bordered with a few shabby fruit-trees. In spite of the extreme surveillance and the severity of the punishments administered, when the wind had shaken the trees, they sometimes succeeded in picking up a green apple or a spoiled apricot or an inhabited pear on the sly.I will now cede the privilege of speech to a letter which lies before me, a letter written five and twenty years ago by an old pupil, now Madame la Duchesse de---- one of the most elegant women in paris.I quote literally: "One hides one's pear or one's apple as best one may. When one goes up stairs to put the veil on the bed before supper, one stuffs them under one's pillow and at night one eats them in bed, and when one cannot do that, one eats them in the closet." That was one of their greatest luxuries.
Once--it was at the epoch of the visit from the archbishop to the convent-- one of the young girls, Mademoiselle Bouchard, who was connected with the Montmorency family, laid a wager that she would ask for a day's leave of absence--an enormity in so austere a community. The wager was accepted, but not one of those who bet believed that she would do it.When the moment came, as the archbishop was passing in front of the pupils, Mademoiselle Bouchard, to the indescribable terror of her companions, stepped out of the ranks, and said, "Monseigneur, a day's leave of absence."Mademoiselle Bouchard was tall, blooming, with the prettiest little rosy face in the world. M. de Quelen smiled and said, "What, my dear child, a day's leave of absence!Three days if you like.I grant you three days." The prioress could do nothing; the archbishop had spoken. Horror of the convent, but joy of the pupil.The effect may be imagined.
This stern cloister was not so well walled off, however, but that the life of the passions of the outside world, drama, and even romance, did not make their way in.To prove this, we will confine ourselves to recording here and to briefly mentioning a real and incontestable fact, which, however, bears no reference in itself to, and is not connected by any thread whatever with the story which we are relating.We mention the fact for the sake of completing the physiognomy of the convent in the reader's mind.
About this time there was in the convent a mysterious person who was not a nun, who was treated with great respect, and who was addressed as Madame Albertine.Nothing was known about her, save that she was mad, and that in the world she passed for dead. Beneath this history it was said there lay the arrangements of fortune necessary for a great marriage.
This woman, hardly thirty years of age, of dark complexion and tolerably pretty, had a vague look in her large black eyes. Could she see?There was some doubt about this.She glided rather than walked, she never spoke; it was not quite known whether she breathed.Her nostrils were livid and pinched as after yielding up their last sigh.To touch her hand was like touching snow. She possessed a strange spectral grace.Wherever she entered, people felt cold.One day a sister, on seeing her pass, said to another sister, "She passes for a dead woman.""perhaps she is one," replied the other.
A hundred tales were told of Madame Albertine.This arose from the eternal curiosity of the pupils.In the chapel there was a gallery called L'OEil de Boeuf.It was in this gallery, which had only a circular bay, an oeil de boeuf, that Madame Albertine listened to the offices.She always occupied it alone because this gallery, being on the level of the first story, the preacher or the officiating priest could be seen, which was interdicted to the nuns. One day the pulpit was occupied by a young priest of high rank, M. Le Duc de Rohan, peer of France, officer of the Red Musketeers in 1815 when he was prince de Leon, and who died afterward, in 1830, as cardinal and Archbishop of Besancon.It was the first time that M. de Rohan had preached at the petit-picpus convent. Madame Albertine usually preserved perfect calmness and complete immobility during the sermons and services.That day, as soon as she caught sight of M. de Rohan, she half rose, and said, in a loud voice, amid the silence of the chapel, "Ah!Auguste!"The whole community turned their heads in amazement, the preacher raised his eyes, but Madame Albertine had relapsed into her immobility. A breath from the outer world, a flash of life, had passed for an instant across that cold and lifeless face and had then vanished, and the mad woman had become a corpse again.
Those two words, however, had set every one in the convent who had the privilege of speech to chattering.How many things were contained in that "Ah!Auguste!" what revelations!M. de Rohan's name really was Auguste.It was evident that Madame Albertine belonged to the very highest society, since she knew M. de Rohan, and that her own rank there was of the highest, since she spoke thus familiarly of so great a lord, and that there existed between them some connection, of relationship, perhaps, but a very close one in any case, since she knew his "pet name."
Two very severe duchesses, Mesdames de Choiseul and de Serent, often visited the community, whither they penetrated, no doubt, in virtue of the privilege Magnates mulieres, and caused great consternation in the boarding-school. When these two old ladies passed by, all the poor young girls trembled and dropped their eyes.
Moreover, M. de Rohan, quite unknown to himself, was an object of attention to the school-girls. At that epoch he had just been made, while waiting for the episcopate, vicar-general of the Archbishop of paris.It was one of his habits to come tolerably often to celebrate the offices in the chapel of the nuns of the petit-picpus. Not one of the young recluses could see him, because of the serge curtain, but he had a sweet and rather shrill voice, which they had come to know and to distinguish.He had been a mousquetaire, and then, he was said to be very coquettish, that his handsome brown hair was very well dressed in a roll around his head, and that he had a broad girdle of magnificent moire, and that his black cassock was of the most elegant cut in the world.He held a great place in all these imaginations of sixteen years.
Not a sound from without made its way into the convent.But there was one year when the sound of a flute penetrated thither. This was an event, and the girls who were at school there at the time still recall it.
It was a flute which was played in the neighborhood.This flute always played the same air, an air which is very far away nowadays,--"My Zetulbe, come reign o'er my soul,"--and it was heard two or three times a day.The young girls passed hours in listening to it, the vocal mothers were upset by it, brains were busy, punishments descended in showers.This lasted for several months. The girls were all more or less in love with the unknown musician. Each one dreamed that she was Zetulbe.The sound of the flute proceeded from the direction of the Rue Droit-Mur; and they would have given anything, compromised everything, attempted anything for the sake of seeing, of catching a glance, if only for a second, of the "young man" who played that flute so deliciously, and who, no doubt, played on all these souls at the same time.There were some who made their escape by a back door, and ascended to the third story on the Rue Droit-Mur side, in order to attempt to catch a glimpse through the gaps.Impossible!One even went so far as to thrust her arm through the grating, and to wave her white handkerchief. Two were still bolder.They found means to climb on a roof, and risked their lives there, and succeeded at last in seeing "the young man." He was an old emigre gentleman, blind and penniless, who was playing his flute in his attic, in order to pass the time.

     在食堂大门的上面，有一篇用大黑字写就的祈祷文，叫做《白色主祷文》，据说有指导正派之人进入天堂的魔力：小小的白色主祷文，天主所创，天主所说，天主曾贴在天堂上，夜晚我去睡，看到三个天使躺在我床上，一个在脚边，两个在头上，仁慈的童贞圣母在中间，她叫我去睡，千万别迟疑。仁慈的天主是我的父，仁慈的圣母是我的母，那三个使徒是我的弟兄，那三个贞女是我的姊妹。天主降世的那件衬衣，现在披裹在我身上，圣玛格丽特十字架已经画的在我胸前；圣母夫人去田里，正想着天主流眼泪，遇见了圣约翰先生。圣约翰先生，您从哪里来？我从祷祝永生来。您没有看见仁慈的天主吗？一定看见了，对吗？他在十字架上，垂着脚，钉着手，一顶白荆棘帽子戴在他头上。谁在晚上念三遍，早上念三遍，最终一定进天堂。
    一八二七年，那篇具有独特风格的祈祷文在墙上已被三层灰浆所遮盖。到现在，它也快从几个当年的年轻姑娘，今天的老太婆的记忆中混灭了。
    我们好象已说过到那食堂只有一扇门，开向园子，墙上挂一个巨大的十 字架，这便是食堂里的装饰。两张窄桌子，每张桌子两旁各有一条木条凳，从食堂的这一端伸到那一端，形成两条长的平行线，墙是白色的，桌子是黑色的，这两种办丧事的颜色是修遭院里唯一的色调。饮食是粗糙的，孩子们的营养也很不好。只有一盘菜，肉和蔬菜拼在一起，要是有咸鱼，就算是打牙祭了。这种为寄读生预备的简单便饭却已是一种特殊优待了，孩子们在一 个值周嬷嬷的监督下，静悄悄地吃站饭，假如有只苍蝇敢于违反院规嗡嗡飞进来的话，嬷嬷便随时打开一本木板书，啪的一声又合上。在那受难十字架的下面有个小讲台，讲台上放了一个独脚架，有个人立在那讲台上宣读圣人的传记好象要为那安静的餐饮，增加一些美味，宣读者是个年龄较大的学生，也是值周生。在那光桌子上，每隔一定距离都放着一个上了漆的尖底盆，学生们在那里自己洗涤她们自己的白铁圆盘和其他餐具，有时也丢进一些吃不下去的东西，硬肉或臭鱼之类，那是要遭惩罚的。她们称那种尖底盆叫圆水钵。
    如果一个孩子吃饭时说了话，她便会被罚用舌头画十字。画在哪里呢？
    画在地板上。她得舐地。灰土，在一切快乐的末尾，负有惩罚那些因一时叽喳讲话而获罪的玫瑰花瓣的责任。
    在那修道院里有本书，从来就只印一册的“孤本”，并且还是禁止阅读的，那就是圣伯努瓦的教规，是俗眼不容窥探的秘密。“我们的规章或我们的制度，不足为外人道也。”
    有一天寄读生们竟然偷出了那本书，聚精会神地读起来，同时又胆颤心惊，惟恐被人发现，几次停下来忙把书合上。她们冒了极大的危险仅获得些少许的快乐，她们觉得“最有趣”的是那几个看不大明白的有关男孩子们犯罪的篇章。
    她们时常在那园中的小路上玩耍，小路旁边栽有几棵长得不好的果树。监视尽管严密，处罚尽管厉害，当大风吹摇了树枝，她们有时能也偷偷摸摸地捡起未成熟的苹果、已烂了的杏子或一个生虫的梨子。现在我让我手边的一封信来说话，这封信是二十五年前的一个寄读生写的，她现在是××公爵夫人，巴黎最风雅的妇人之一。我把原文抄录于下：“我们千方百计把我们的梨或苹果藏起来。我们趁晚饭前上楼去放面罩时把那些东西塞在枕头底下，等到晚上，便在床上吃，如果不便的话，便在厕所里吃。”那是她们感到最惬意的一桩事。
    一次，又是在那大主教先生到那修道院去视察的时候，有个叫布沙尔的小姐，和蒙莫良西①多少有些瓜葛，她打赌说她要请一天假，这在那样严肃的场合里是件办不到的事。很多人跟她打了赌，但是没有一个相信她能请准假，到了时候，当大主教从那些寄读生的面前走过时，布沙尔小姐，在使她的同学们震惊的情况下，走出了队列并且说：“大人，请准我一天假。”布沙尔小姐是个美艳绝伦、亭亭玉立、有着世上最美丽红润的小脸蛋的姑娘。德?桂朗先生笑眯眯他说：“哪里的话，我亲爱的孩子，一天假！三天，成吗？我准三夭假。”院长无可奈何，大主教的话已经说出了口，全体修女觉得有失体统，但是所有的寄读生没有一个不兴高彩烈。试想想那种后果吧。
    然而那面目凶恶的修道院并不是无懈可击，修道院之外的情魔孽障并不是一点也飞不进去的。为了证实这一点，我们只在这里简单陈述和指出一件无法辩驳的真事事件，这件事并非和我们所讲的故事丝毫没有关连。我们把这件事讲出来是要让读者在思想上对那个修道院的情况有个全面的了解。
    当时在那个修道院里有个神秘的人物，她并不是修女，大家对她却非常尊敬，并称她为阿尔贝尔丁夫人。人们仅知道她神经出了问题而不知她的身世，世人也都把她看成个死人。据说在她的个人的经历中，有着一桩由婚事而引起的财产纠纷事件。
    那妇人年近三十岁，皮肤和头发颜色却很深，长得极漂亮，眼睛狭长而秀丽，眼珠深黑，但看起人来却没有神，她能看得见吗？没有人敢肯定。她走起路来象飘而不象走，她人不说话，别人也无法确定她究竟呼吸不呼吸，她的鼻孔，瘦削而青苍，象人已死后的那种样子，碰着她的手就象碰着了雪。她有一种神奇的幽灵般的韵味。她走到哪里，哪里便会有一股冷气。一天，有个修女看见她走过，就对另外一个修女说：“人家都把她看成死人。”“她也许真是死人。”另一个回答说。
    关于阿尔贝尔丁夫人的传说非常的多。她是寄读生们津津乐道的怪人。
    在礼拜堂中有个台子，叫“牛眼台”。台上只有一个圆窗，“牛眼窗”，阿尔贝尔夫人就在这里做日课。她经常独自一人待在上面，因为那个台在楼上，从那里望出去，可以看见宣道甫或主祭神甫，那是修女们禁止观望的。一天，一个年轻的高级神甫来到那讲坛上，他叫罗安公爵先生，法兰西世卿，一八 一五年的红火熗队军官，当时他也是莱翁亲王，一八三○年后在他做了红衣主教兼贝桑松大主教之后才去世的，德?罗安先生到小比克布斯修道院去讲道，那还是第一次。阿尔贝尔丁夫人平日参加听道和日课时总是十分安静，纹丝不动的。那天，当她一看见德?罗安先生，便半站起身，在寂静的礼拜堂中大声说道：“哟！奥古斯特！”所有在场的人都大吃一惊，人们把头掉过去看她，宣道神甫也抬头望了一眼，但阿尔贝尔夫人又已回到她那种木然和无动于衷的神态中去了。外界的一阵微风，人生的一线微光，一时曾在那冷却的冰透了的脸上飘拂过去，但是一切又随即消逝了，疯人又成了尸体。可是那几个字却足已使修道院里的人议论纷纷。“哟！奥古斯特！”这包藏着多少东西！泄露了多少消息！德?罗安先生的小名确是奥古斯特，这①蒙莫朗西（Montmorecy），法国的一个大族。
    说明阿尔贝尔丁夫人出身于上流社会，因为她认得德?罗安先生，也说明她自己在那社会里的地位也很高，因为她用极其亲呢的口吻称呼一个地位高贵的人，也说明他俩之间有某种种关系，也许是亲戚关系，总之肯定是极其密切的关系，因为她知道他的“小名”。
    舒瓦瑟尔夫人和塞朗夫人是两个非常严厉的公爵夫人，她俩经常访问那个修道院，她们以贵妇人的姿态出现在修道院中，使得那些寄读生十分害怕。当那两位老人经过时，那些可怜的年轻姑娘都低着眼睛害怕得浑身发抖。
    德?罗安先生也是那些寄读生注意的对象，他本人却并不知道。当时他被任命为巴黎大主教的大助理主教还不久，并且有升为主教的可能。他到小比克布斯修女们的礼拜堂里来参加日课唱圣诗，那是常有的事。所有那些年轻的修女，谁也看不见他，因为有那条哗叽帷幕遮挡着，但是他的声音柔和而细腻，这是她们能够听得出来的。他当过火熗手，并且他爱打扮，一头漂亮的栗色头发梳成转倚式，很整齐地围绕着脑袋，腰上系一条华美的黑宽带，他的黑道袍也是世上裁剪最好看的，他使那些豆寇年华的少女们春心欲动。外界的声音从来不会到达那修道院里去，但是有一年，有个人的笛声却飞了进去，那是一桩大事，当年的寄读生们都还记得。有人在那附近吹笛子。吹的始终是个老调，到今天那调子已显得相当陈旧了：《我的泽蒂贝姑娘，来弥补我的灵魂吧。》白天里，他总要吹上几次。
    那些年轻姑娘时常长时间倾听这笛声，嬷嬷们气坏了，想方设法，雨点似的处罚落在姑娘们的头上。这情形持续了好几个月。寄读生们对那个不曾露面的吹笛人都多少有些好感，人人都梦想自己是泽蒂贝。笛声是从直壁街那面传来的，她们打算抛弃一切，冒所有危险，想尽方法去看看他，哪怕只是一秒钟，去看一下，去瞄一眼那个以整个身心吹奏着又能把笛子吹得那样美妙动人的“青年”。有几个姑娘从仆人进去的门中偷偷跑出去，爬到临直壁街一面的三楼上，想从那些钉死了的窗口望出去，但却没有成功。有一个姑娘甚至把她的手高高地伸在铁条外面，挥动她的白手帕。另外两个还更大胆，她们找到了办法，一直爬上屋顶，总算看见了那个“青年”。那是一个年老的流亡贵族，眼瞎了人又穷，住在他那间阁楼上，以吹笛子来解闷。

In this enclosure of the petit-picpus there were three perfectly distinct buildings,--the Great Convent, inhabited by the nuns, the Boarding-school, where the scholars were lodged; and lastly, what was called the Little Convent.It was a building with a garden, in which lived all sorts of aged nuns of various orders, the relics of cloisters destroyed in the Revolution; a reunion of all the black, gray, and white medleys of all communities and all possible varieties; what might be called, if such a coupling of words is permissible, a sort of harlequin convent.
When the Empire was established, all these poor old dispersed and exiled women had been accorded permission to come and take shelter under the wings of the Bernardines-Benedictines. The government paid them a small pension, the ladies of the petit-picpus received them cordially.It was a singular pell-mell. Each followed her own rule, Sometimes the pupils of the boarding-school were allowed, as a great recreation, to pay them a visit; the result is, that all those young memories have retained among other souvenirs that of Mother Sainte-Bazile, Mother Sainte-Scolastique, and Mother Jacob.
One of these refugees found herself almost at home.She was a nun of Sainte-Aure, the only one of her order who had survived. The ancient convent of the ladies of Sainte-Aure occupied, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, this very house of the petit-picpus, which belonged later to the Benedictines of Martin Verga.This holy woman, too poor to wear the magnificent habit of her order, which was a white robe with a scarlet scapulary, had piously put it on a little manikin, which she exhibited with complacency and which she bequeathed to the house at her death. In 1824, only one nun of this order remained; to-day, there remains only a doll.
In addition to these worthy mothers, some old society women had obtained permission of the prioress, like Madame Albertine, to retire into the Little Convent.Among the number were Madame Beaufort d'Hautpoul and Marquise Dufresne.Another was never known in the convent except by the formidable noise which she made when she blew her nose.The pupils called her Madame Vacarmini (hubbub).
About 1820 or 1821, Madame de Genlis, who was at that time editing a little periodical publication called l'Intrepide, asked to be allowed to enter the convent of the petit-picpus as lady resident. The Duc d'Orleans recommended her.Uproar in the hive; the vocal-mothers were all in a flutter; Madame de Genlis had made romances. But she declared that she was the first to detest them, and then, she had reached her fierce stage of devotion.With the aid of God, and of the prince, she entered.She departed at the end of six or eight months, alleging as a reason, that there was no shade in the garden.The nuns were delighted.Although very old, she still played the harp, and did it very well.
When she went away she left her mark in her cell.Madame de Genlis was superstitious and a Latinist.These two words furnish a tolerably good profile of her.A few years ago, there were still to be seen, pasted in the inside of a little cupboard in her cell in which she locked up her silverware and her jewels, these five lines in Latin, written with her own hand in red ink on yellow paper, and which, in her opinion, possessed the property of frightening away robbers:--
Imparibus meritis pendent tria corpora ramis:(15) Dismas et Gesmas, media est divina potestas; Alta petit Dismas, infelix, infima, Gesmas; Nos et res nostras conservet summa potestas. Hos versus dicas, ne tu furto tua perdas.
(15) On the boughs hang three bodies of unequal merits: Dismas and Gesmas, between is the divine power.Dismas seeks the heights, Gesmas, unhappy man, the lowest regions; the highest power will preserve us and our effects.If you repeat this verse, you will not lose your things by theft.
These verses in sixth century Latin raise the question whether the two thieves of Calvary were named, as is commonly believed, Dismas and Gestas, or Dismas and Gesmas.This orthography might have confounded the pretensions put forward in the last century by the Vicomte de Gestas, of a descent from the wicked thief. However, the useful virtue attached to these verses forms an article of faith in the order of the Hospitallers.
The church of the house, constructed in such a manner as to separate the Great Convent from the Boarding-school like a veritable intrenchment, was, of course, common to the Boarding-school, the Great Convent, and the Little Convent.The public was even admitted by a sort of lazaretto entrance on the street.But all was so arranged, that none of the inhabitants of the cloister could see a face from the outside world.Suppose a church whose choir is grasped in a gigantic hand, and folded in such a manner as to form, not, as in ordinary churches, a prolongation behind the altar, but a sort of hall, or obscure cellar, to the right of the officiating priest; suppose this hall to be shut off by a curtain seven feet in height, of which we have already spoken; in the shadow of that curtain, pile up on wooden stalls the nuns in the choir on the left, the school-girls on the right, the lay-sisters and the novices at the bottom, and you will have some idea of the nuns of the petit-picpus assisting at divine service.That cavern, which was called the choir, communicated with the cloister by a lobby.The church was lighted from the garden.When the nuns were present at services where their rule enjoined silence, the public was warned of their presence only by the folding seats of the stalls noisily rising and falling.

     在小比克布斯的花园中，有三个完全分开的院落：修女们住的大院，小学生们住的寄读学校，最后还有所谓小院。那是个带园子的房屋的小院，一 些在革命中被摧毁了的修道院留下来的、原属不同修会的各式各样的老修女都一起住在那里，那是黑色、灰色、白色的混和物，是形形色色的修会团体和五花人门、应有尽有的品种的汇合，我们可以管它叫——如果词儿可以这样搭配的话——什锦院。
    从帝国时代起，便已允许所有那些可怜的失去家园的姑娘们到这里来，受伯尔纳一本笃会修女们的保护。政府还发给她们一点点钱，小比克布斯的修女们热情地接纳了她们，那是一种稀奇古怪的杂拌儿。各人遵守着各人的教规。寄读的小学生们有时会得准许去拜访她们，这似乎是她们的一大乐趣，因此在那些年轻姑娘的记忆中留下圣巴西尔嬷嬷、对斯柯拉斯狄克嬷嬷、圣雅各嬷嬷和其他一些嬷嬷的形象。
    在那些流亡的修女中，有一个认为自己差不多是回到了老家。那是一个圣奥尔会的修女，她是那修会里唯一活着的人，圣奥尔修女们的修道院旧址，从十八世纪初起，正好是小比克布斯的这所房屋，过后才转到玛尔丹?维尔加支系的本笃会修女们手中。那个修女，因为太穷，穿不起她那修会规定的华美服装：白袍和朱红披肩，便一片诚心地做了一套这样的小衣服穿在一个小小的模特儿身上，高高兴高地把它拿给大家看，临死前，还把它捐给了修道院。那个修会，在一八二四年只剩下一个修女，到今天，只留下一个玩偶。除了这些真正够得上称为嬷嬷的人之外，还有几个世俗中的老妇人也和阿尔贝尔丁夫人一样，获得了院长的许可，隐居在那小院里。在那一批人中，有波弗多布夫人和迪费雷纳侯爵夫人。另外还有一个专以擤鼻涕声响亮震耳而闻名小院，小学生们都管她叫哗啦啦啦夫人的人。
    一人二○或一八二一年间，有个名叫让利斯的夫人，她当时在编一本名为《勇士》的杂志，她要求进入小比克布斯修道院当一个独修修女。她的介绍人是奥尔良公爵。那修道院顿时混乱起来象一个马蜂窝一般，参议嬷嬷们慌到发抖，因为让利斯夫人写过小说。但是她宣布她比任何人都更痛恨小说，并且已经进入了更为痛恨的阶段。承上帝保佑，也承那亲王保佑，她进了修道院。六个月或八个月之后她离开了那里，理由是那园里没有树荫，修女们因而大为高兴。尽管她年纪已经很大，但却仍在弹竖琴，并且弹得相当好。她离开时，她在她的斗室里留下了痕迹。让利斯夫人迷信而且还是个拉丁语学者。这两个特点使她与众不同。在她的斗室中有个小柜，是她平常藏银钱珍宝的地方，几年以前，人们都能看到在那柜子里还贴着一张由她亲笔用红墨水写在黄纸上的这样五句拉丁诗，那些诗句，在她看来，是具有避邪的魔法的：三个善恶悬殊的死尸挂在木架上，狄斯马斯和哲斯马斯，真正在中央，狄斯马斯升天国，哲斯马斯下地狱，析求尊神保护我们和我们的财物，念了这首诗，你的财物再不会被盗贼偷去。这几句用六世纪的拉丁文写成的诗使我们想到这样一个问题，那就是我们想知道受难圣地上的那两个强盗的名字，究竟是象我们通常所承认的那佯，叫狄马斯和哲斯塔斯呢还是叫做狄斯马斯和哲斯马斯。上一世纪的哲斯塔子爵自称是那坏强盗的后代，他如果看见了这种写法，也许不大高兴吧．此外，那几句诗所具有的那种能劈强盗的魔力是仁爱会修女们所深信的。
    那修道院的礼拜堂，从方位上说，位于大院和寄校学校之间，不过它仍是由寄读学校、大院和小院井同使用的。甚至公众也可由一道特设在街旁的大门进去。但是整个布置能使修道院的任何女人看不见外界的一张脸。礼拜堂中唱诗台那一段仿佛被一只大手捏住了，并且被捏走了样——不是变得象一般的礼拜堂那样的祭台后面突出去一段，而是在主祭神甫的右边捏出了一 大间或是一个黑洞。你再想象那间大厅正如我们在前面已经说过的那样，被一道七尺高的哗叽帷幕所遮住，在帷幕后面的阴影中有一排排的活动坐板椅，你把唱诗的修女们放在左侧，寄读生们放在右侧，勤务嬷嬷和初学生们放在底里，你对小比克布斯的修女们参与圣祭的情形便有一个了解了，那个黑洞，大家称它为唱诗台，经过一条地道，和修道院相通。礼拜堂里的阳光来自园中。修女们参加日课，按照规矩是绝对不能出声的，外面的人，如果不听见她们椅子上的活动坐板在起落时相互撞击的声音都不会知道她们在礼拜堂里。

During the six years which separate 1819 from 1825, the prioress of the petit-picpus was Mademoiselle de Blemeur, whose name, in religion, was Mother Innocente.She came of the family of Marguerite de Blemeur, author of Lives of the Saints of the Order of Saint-Benoit. She had been re-elected. She was a woman about sixty years of age, short, thick, "singing like a cracked pot," says the letter which we have already quoted; an excellent woman, moreover, and the only merry one in the whole convent, and for that reason adored. She was learned, erudite, wise, competent, curiously proficient in history, crammed with Latin, stuffed with Greek, full of Hebrew, and more of a Benedictine monk than a Benedictine nun.
The sub-prioress was an old Spanish nun, Mother Cineres, who was almost blind.
The most esteemed among the vocal mothers were Mother Sainte-Honorine; the treasurer, Mother Sainte-Gertrude, the chief mistress of the novices; Mother-Saint-Ange, the assistant mistress; Mother Annonciation, the sacristan; Mother Saint-Augustin, the nurse, the only one in the convent who was malicious; then Mother Sainte-Mechtilde (Mademoiselle Gauvain), very young and with a beautiful voice; Mother des Anges (Mademoiselle Drouet), who had been in the convent of the Filles-Dieu, and in the convent du Tresor, between Gisors and Magny; Mother Saint-Joseph (Mademoiselle de Cogolludo), Mother Sainte-Adelaide (Mademoiselle d'Auverney), Mother Misericorde (Mademoiselle de Cifuentes, who could not resist austerities), Mother Compassion (Mademoiselle de la Miltiere, received at the age of sixty in defiance of the rule, and very wealthy); Mother providence (Mademoiselle de Laudiniere), Mother presentation (Mademoiselle de Siguenza), who was prioress in 1847; and finally, Mother Sainte-Celigne (sister of the sculptor Ceracchi), who went mad; Mother Sainte-Chantal (Mademoiselle de Suzon), who went mad.
There was also, among the prettiest of them, a charming girl of three and twenty, who was from the Isle de Bourbon, a descendant of the Chevalier Roze, whose name had been Mademoiselle Roze, and who was called Mother Assumption.
Mother Sainte-Mechtilde, intrusted with the singing and the choir, was fond of making use of the pupils in this quarter.She usually took a complete scale of them, that is to say, seven, from ten to sixteen years of age, inclusive, of assorted voices and sizes, whom she made sing standing, drawn up in a line, side by side, according to age, from the smallest to the largest.This presented to the eye, something in the nature of a reed-pipe of young girls, a sort of living pan-pipe made of angels.
Those of the lay-sisters whom the scholars loved most were Sister Euphrasie, Sister Sainte-Marguerite, Sister Sainte-Marthe, who was in her dotage, and Sister Sainte-Michel, whose long nose made them laugh.
All these women were gentle with the children.The nuns were severe only towards themselves.No fire was lighted except in the school, and the food was choice compared to that in the convent. Moreover, they lavished a thousand cares on their scholars.Only, when a child passed near a nun and addressed her, the nun never replied.
This rule of silence had had this effect, that throughout the whole convent, speech had been withdrawn from human creatures, and bestowed on inanimate objects.Now it was the church-bell which spoke, now it was the gardener's bell.A very sonorous bell, placed beside the portress, and which was audible throughout the house, indicated by its varied peals, which formed a sort of acoustic telegraph, all the actions of material life which were to be performed, and summoned to the parlor, in case of need, such or such an inhabitant of the house.Each person and each thing had its own peal.The prioress had one and one, the sub-prioress one and two.Six-five announced lessons, so that the pupils never said "to go to lessons," but "to go to six-five." Four-four was Madame de Genlis's signal.It was very often heard."C'est le diable a quatre,--it's the very deuce--said the uncharitable. Tennine strokes announced a great event.It was the opening of the door of seclusion, a frightful sheet of iron bristling with bolts which only turned on its hinges in the presence of the archbishop.
With the exception of the archbishop and the gardener, no man entered the convent, as we have already said.The schoolgirls saw two others:one, the chaplain, the Abbe Banes, old and ugly, whom they were permitted to contemplate in the choir, through a grating; the other the drawing-master, M. Ansiaux, whom the letter, of which we have perused a few lines, calls M. Anciot, and describes as a frightful old hunchback.
It will be seen that all these men were carefully chosen.
Such was this curious house.

     在一八一九到一八二五的六年中，小比克布斯修道院的院长是德。勃勒麦尔小姐，宗教界称她为纯贞嬷嬷。她和《圣伯努瓦会诸圣传》的作者玛格丽特?德?勃勤麦尔是一家。她两次担任院长。她是一个六十开外的矮胖妇人，我们在前面提到过的那钵信里说她“唱起诗来象个破罐”，除此之外，人非常好，在那修道院里，只有她一个人是性情开朗的，因此为大家所喜爱。她能承继先人玛格丽特——修会中的泰斗——的遗风。多才多艺，学识渊博，谙悉奇闻异事，满脑子的拉丁文，满肚子的希腊文，希伯来文，虽是女流之辈，却有大丈夫气。副院长是个眼睛半瞎的西班牙者修女，西内莱斯嬷嬷。在那些“参议”中最受重视的是圣奥诺雷嬷嬷，司库；圣热尔特律德嬷嬷，初学生们的第一导师；圣安滇嬷嬷，第二导师；领报嬷嬷，司衣；圣奥西斯丁嬷嬷，护士，她是修道院中唯一的坏人；还有圣梅克蒂尔德嬷嬷（戈梵小姐），很年轻，声音甜美；安滇嬷嬷（德鲁埃小姐），她曾在圣女修院和吉索尔与马尼问的宝藏修院里待过；圣约瑟嬷嬷（柯戈鲁多小姐）；圣阿德拉依德嬷嬷（奥威尔涅小姐）；慈悲嬷嬷（西弗安特小姐，她爱不了艰苦刻板生活）；温情嬷嬷（罗第尼埃小姐）；入庙嬷嬷（西甘查小姐），一八 四七年当院长；最后，圣赛利尼嬷嬷（雕塑家赛拉奇的姐妹），后来疯了；圣尚达尔嬷嬷（苏松小姐），也疯了。
    在那些顶美丽的姑娘里，还有一个芳龄二十三岁的美人，她出生在波旁岛①，是罗兹骑士的后裔，社会上叫她罗兹小姐，在那里名叫升天嬷嬷。圣梅克旁尔德嬷嬷负责指导唱歌和唱诗，她喜欢选用寄读生。她一般选择七个人，年龄从十岁到十六岁，每岁一个，声音和高矮也都要相当，把她们组成一个完整的音阶，她要求她们站着唱，从最小到最大，按照年龄，看去好象一座五彩屏风，一种由天使组成的排萧。
    在那些勤务嬷嬷中，寄读生们最喜欢的是圣欧福拉吉嬷嬷、圣玛格丽特嬷嬷，老糊涂圣玛尔泰嬷嬷和那使人看了便要发笑的长鼻子圣米歇尔嬷嬷。所有那些妇女对孩子们都是很亲热的。修女们只对自己才严厉。只有寄读学校里才生火，她们的伙食，和修道院里的伙食比较起来，就会好得多。其他的照顾也是无微不至的。不过，当孩子从修女身边走过对她讲话时，修女却从来不回答。
    修道院要保持安静。这院规导致这样一种结果，那就是在全院，语言已从人的身上消失并交给了无生命的东西，有时是礼拜堂上的钟在说话，有时是那园丁的铃在说话。在担任传达的嬷嬷身边，挂着一口音色极其洪亮全院都能听到的铜钟，通过各种不同敲法，好象是种有声电报似的，来表达在物质生活中所应进行的全部活动，并且，在必要时，还可把修院里的这个或那个人叫到会客室里去。每个人和每件东西都有一定的敲法。院长是一下接一 下，副院长是一下接两下。六下接五下表示上课，以致小学生们从来不说去上课，而是说去六五。四下接四下是让利斯夫的呼号。大家听到这呼号的次数非常多。“四头鬼又来了，”一些不大厚道的姑娘们时常这样说。十下接九下报告一件大事，就是“围墙大门”的开放，那是一道锈迹斑斑、令人害①波旁岛（I”lle Bourbon），即留尼汪岛，在印度洋。
    怕的铁板大门，只有在迎送大主教时才打开。我们说过，除了主教和园丁，任何男人都不能走进修道院。寄读生还见过另外两个男人，一个是又老又丑的教义导师，巴内斯林甫，这是可以让她们从唱诗台上隔着铁栅栏看看的，另一个是图画教师昂西奥先生，也就是我们在前面见了几行的那封信里所提到的“安西奥先生”和“驼背者妖怪”。
    可以看出，每一个男人都是经过挑选的。这就是那个怪修道院的面貌。

After having sketched its moral face, it will not prove unprofitable to point out, in a few words, its material configuration. The reader already has some idea of it.
The convent of the petit-picpus-Sainte-Antoine filled almost the whole of the vast trapezium which resulted from the intersection of the Rue polonceau, the Rue Droit-Mur, the Rue petit-picpus, and the unused lane, called Rue Aumarais on old plans. These four streets surrounded this trapezium like a moat. The convent was composed of several buildings and a garden. The principal building, taken in its entirety, was a juxtaposition of hybrid constructions which, viewed from a bird's-eye view, outlined, with considerable exactness, a gibbet laid flat on the ground. The main arm of the gibbet occupied the whole of the fragment of the Rue Droit-Mur comprised between the Rue petit-picpus and the Rue polonceau; the lesser arm was a lofty, gray, severe grated facade which faced the Rue petit-picpus; the carriage entrance No. 62 marked its extremity.Towards the centre of this facade was a low, arched door, whitened with dust and ashes, where the spiders wove their webs, and which was open only for an hour or two on Sundays, and on rare occasions, when the coffin of a nun left the convent. This was the public entrance of the church.The elbow of the gibbet was a square hall which was used as the servants' hall, and which the nuns called the buttery.In the main arm were the cells of the mothers, the sisters, and the novices.In the lesser arm lay the kitchens, the refectory, backed up by the cloisters and the church.Between the door No. 62 and the corner of the closed lane Aumarais, was the school, which was not visible from without. The remainder of the trapezium formed the garden, which was much lower than the level of the Rue polonceau, which caused the walls to be very much higher on the inside than on the outside. The garden, which was slightly arched, had in its centre, on the summit of a hillock, a fine pointed and conical fir-tree, whence ran, as from the peaked boss of a shield, four grand alleys, and, ranged by twos in between the branchings of these, eight small ones, so that, if the enclosure had been circular, the geometrical plan of the alleys would have resembled a cross superposed on a wheel. As the alleys all ended in the very irregular walls of the garden, they were of unequal length.They were bordered with currant bushes. At the bottom, an alley of tall poplars ran from the ruins of the old convent, which was at the angle of the Rue Droit-Mur to the house of the Little Convent, which was at the angle of the Aumarais lane. In front of the Little Convent was what was called the little garden. To this whole, let the reader add a courtyard, all sorts of varied angles formed by the interior buildings, prison walls, the long black line of roofs which bordered the other side of the Rue polonceau for its sole perspective and neighborhood, and he will be able to form for himself a complete image of what the house of the Bernardines of the petit-picpus was forty years ago. This holy house had been built on the precise site of a famous tennis-ground of the fourteenth to the sixteenth century, which was called the "tennis-ground of the eleven thousand devils."
All these streets, moreover, were more ancient than paris.These names, Droit-Mur and Aumarais, are very ancient; the streets which bear them are very much more ancient still.Aumarais Lane was called Maugout Lane; the Rue Droit-Mur was called the Rue des Eglantiers, for God opened flowers before man cut stones.

     在初步描绘了那修道院的精神面貌之后，再把它的物质外形也描述一下也不会是无益的。读者在这方面也早已有个概念了。
    小比克布斯圣安东尼修道院大部分领地位于那个广阔的不等边四边形，这是由波隆梭街、直壁街、比克布斯小街和那条已被堵塞而在旧地图上叫着奥玛莱街的死巷交叉组成的，那四条街就象一道潦沟圈住那不等边四边形。那修道院是由好几栋房屋和一个园子组成的。那栋主要的房屋，就它的整体来说，是由几座不同风格的建筑物凑合起来的，从空中看下去，那一组建筑物就很象一把放在地上的曲尺。曲尺的长臂从比克布斯小街一直延伸到波隆梭街，占有整条直壁街的街边；短臂面临比克布斯小街，那一面的房屋高而灰暗，形象庄严，正面的门窗都装有铁栅栏，六十二号的大车门标志着那一 带房屋的尽头。在那一带房屋的正中。
    有一道老式的矮圆拱门，门上到处是白灰土，门洞里结满了蜘蛛网，那道门只在星期日打开放一两个小时，或在有修女的棺材要抬出修道院时才偶而开一下。那也就是公众进礼拜堂的地方。在曲尺转角的地方，有一间当作储藏室用的方厅，修女们把它叫着“账房”。沿着长臂一带，有厨房、带走廊的食堂和札拜堂。在六十二号大门和关闭了的奥玛莱街巷口之间的地方是寄读学校，人们从外面看去，却看不见那学校，不等边四边形的其余部分便是园子，园子要比波隆梭街的街面低许多，因此围墙在园里的一面和外面比起来要高一些，园里的地面是呈有坡度的，中间有个稍高的部分，长着一株美丽的圆锥形枞树，宛如圆盾中心的突刺，四条大道从那圆心出发，伸向四 方，每一条大道又都有两条小道，一左一右分叉出去，各各相通，因此那片园地，假使是圆的话，这些道路所构成的几何图案就如一个加在轮子上面的十字架。所有道路都抵达院墙，由于那园子的围墙很不整齐，道路的长短也就不一样。醋栗树夹道而立。在直壁街的角上有着老院的遗迹，有条小道，在两行高大的白桦下面，从那里延伸到奥玛莱巷拐弯处的小院。小院的前面有所谓小园。我们在这样一个整体中再加上一个天井，加上由内部各院房屋所形成的各式各样的转角、监狱的围墙、一长列遥遥相望的沿波隆梭街的黑房顶，我们就能想象出四十五年前存在于小比克布斯的伯尔纳女修院的整个面貌了。从十四世纪到十六世纪，那里是个著名的球场，叫“一万一千个魔鬼的俱乐部”，正是日后建造那圣洁的修院的基地。
    这些街道在巴黎，都是最古老的。直壁、奥玛莱这类名称，已够古老的了，以这类名称命名的街道则更为古老。奥玛莱巷原称摩古巷，直壁街原称野蔷薇街，因为上帝使百花开放远在人类开凿石头之前。

Since we are engaged in giving details as to what the convent of the petit-picpus was in former times, and since we have ventured to open a window on that discreet retreat, the reader will permit us one other little digression, utterly foreign to this book, but characteristic and useful, since it shows that the cloister even has its original figures.
In the Little Convent there was a centenarian who came from the Abbey of Fontevrault.She had even been in society before the Revolution. She talked a great deal of M. de Miromesnil, Keeper of the Seals under Louis XVI.and of a presidentess Duplat, with whom she had been very intimate.It was her pleasure and her vanity to drag in these names on every pretext.She told wonders of the Abbey of Fontevrault,-- that it was like a city, and that there were streets in the monastery.
She talked with a picard accent which amused the pupils.Every year, she solemnly renewed her vows, and at the moment of taking the oath, she said to the priest, "Monseigneur Saint-Francois gave it to Monseigneur Saint-Julien, Monseigneur Saint-Julien gave it to Monseigneur Saint-Eusebius, Monseigneur Saint-Eusebius gave it to Monseigneur Saint-procopius, etc., etc.; and thus I give it to you, father."And the school-girls would begin to laugh, not in their sleeves, but under their veils; charming little stifled laughs which made the vocal mothers frown.
On another occasion, the centenarian was telling stories.She said that in her youth the Bernardine monks were every whit as good as the mousquetaires.It was a century which spoke through her, but it was the eighteenth century.She told about the custom of the four wines, which existed before the Revolution in Champagne and Bourgogne. When a great personage, a marshal of France, a prince, a duke, and a peer, traversed a town in Burgundy or Champagne, the city fathers came out to harangue him and presented him with four silver gondolas into which they had poured four different sorts of wine. On the first goblet this inscription could be read, monkey wine; on the second, lion wine; on the third, sheep wine; on the fourth, hog wine.These four legends express the four stages descended by the drunkard; the first, intoxication, which enlivens; the second, that which irritates; the third, that which dulls; and the fourth, that which brutalizes.
In a cupboard, under lock and key, she kept a mysterious object of which she thought a great deal.The rule of Fontevrault did not forbid this.She would not show this object to anyone. She shut herself up, which her rule allowed her to do, and hid herself, every time that she desired to contemplate it. If she heard a footstep in the corridor, she closed the cupboard again as hastily as it was possible with her aged hands.As soon as it was mentioned to her, she became silent, she who was so fond of talking.The most curious were baffled by her silence and the most tenacious by her obstinacy.Thus it furnished a subject of comment for all those who were unoccupied or bored in the convent. What could that treasure of the centenarian be, which was so precious and so secret?Some holy book, no doubt?Some unique chaplet? Some authentic relic?They lost themselves in conjectures. When the poor old woman died, they rushed to her cupboard more hastily than was fitting, perhaps, and opened it.They found the object beneath a triple linen cloth, like some consecrated paten. It was a Faenza platter representing little Loves flitting away pursued by apothecary lads armed with enormous syringes. The chase abounds in grimaces and in comical postures.One of the charming little Loves is already fairly spitted.He is resisting, fluttering his tiny wings, and still making an effort to fly, but the dancer is laughing with a satanical air.Moral:Love conquered by the colic.This platter, which is very curious, and which had, possibly, the honor of furnishing Moliere with an idea, was still in existence in September, 1845; it was for sale by a bric-a-brac merchant in the Boulevard Beaumarchais.
This good old woman would not receive any visits from outside because, said she, the parlor is too gloomy.

     我们既然在谈小比克布斯修院过去的一些小事，也敢于把那禁宫的一扇窗子敞了开来，读者谅能允许我们再另生一小小枝节，叙述一件与本书实际无关的故事，这故事不但有它特殊之处，而且对帮助我们了解那座修道的一 些奇特现象也有益处。
    在那小院住着一个来自封特弗罗修道院来的百岁老妇人。她在革命前还没有出家。她经常谈到路易十六的掌玺官米罗迈尼尔先生和她所熟悉的一个狄勃拉首席法官夫人。由于爱好，也由于虚荣，她无论谈什么事总要扯到那两个名字上去。她常把那封特弗罗道院说得好上加好，说那里很象个城市，修院里有很多大街。
    她以庇卡底人的风度讲话，使寄读生们听了特别高兴。她每年要郑重发一次誓愿，在发愿时，她总向那神甫说：“圣方济各大人向圣于连大人发过这个愿，圣于连大人向圣欧塞勃大人发过这个愿，圣欧塞勃大人向圣普罗柯帕大人发过这个愿，”等等，“因此我也向您，我的神父，发这个愿。”寄读生们听了，都咯咯地笑，不是在兜帽底下笑，而是在面纱下面笑，多么可爱的压抑着的娇笑啊，这使那些参议嬷嬷都皱起眉来。
    另外一次，这百岁老人讲故事，她说“在她年青的时候，伯尔纳修士不肯在火熗手面前让步”那是一个世纪在谈话，不过，这是十八世纪。她讲了香摈和勃良第人献四道酒的风俗，革命前，如果有一个大人物，法兰西大元帅、亲王、公爵和世卿，经过勃艮第或香槟的某个城市，那城里的文官武官便来向他致欢迎词，并用四个银爵杯，敬给他四种不同味道的酒。在第一个爵杯上刻着“猴酒”两字，第二个上刻着“狮酒”，第三个上刻着“羊酒”，第四个上刻着“猪酒”。那四种铭文标志着人饮酒人醉的四个阶段：第一阶段是活跃阶段，第二，激怒，第三，迟钝，最后，胡涂。
    她有一件非常喜爱的东西，一直锁在一个柜子里，秘不告人。封特弗罗修院的院规并不禁止她那样做。她从不把那件东西给任何人看。她独自关在屋里，那是她的院规允许的，偷偷欣赏那东西。如果她听见过道里有人走动，那双干枯的手便急忙把柜门锁上。一当有人向她谈到这事时，她又立即缄默不语，尽管她平时最爱谈话。最好奇的人在她那种沉默面前，最顽强的人在她那种固执面前也都无能为力。这也就成了修道院中所有一切闲散无聊的人热心关注的东西。那百岁老人如此珍视、那样秘藏的东西究竟是什么宝贝呢？这肯定是本什么天书了？或是某种独一无二的念珠？某种经过考证的遗物？百般猜测也无从解开那个谜，当可怜的老妇人死了之后，大家跑到那柜跟前——按理说，也许不该跑的那么快——打开了柜门。那东西找到了，它裹在三层布当中，好象一个备受呵护的祝福过的祭品盘。那是一个法恩扎①窑的盘子，上面描画着儿个当药剂师的孩子，手里拿着硕大无比的注射器，在追逐一群飞着的爱神。追逐的神情姿态各不相同，但都能使人发笑。在那些小巧美丽的爱神中，已有一个被那注射器扎住了。它挣扎着，拍打着翅膀想飞走，可是那个滑稽的小丑望着它发出淫邪的笑。这情景表达的是爱情在痛苦下面屈服了。那个盘子的确是稀罕的东西，也许曾荣幸地触动过莫里哀的创作灵感，它在一八四五年还在，存放在博马舍林荫大道的一家古董店里待售。
①法恩扎（Faenza），意大利城市。
    那个慈祥的老妇人生前从不接待外来的亲友，“因为，”她说，“那会客室阴森森的，太凄惨了。”

However, this almost sepulchral parlor, of which we have sought to convey an idea, is a purely local trait which is not reproduced with the same severity in other convents.At the convent of the Rue du Temple, in particular, which belonged, in truth, to another order, the black shutters were replaced by brown curtains, and the parlor itself was a salon with a polished wood floor, whose windows were draped in white muslin curtains and whose walls admitted all sorts of frames, a portrait of a Benedictine nun with unveiled face, painted bouquets, and even the head of a Turk.
It is in that garden of the Temple convent, that stood that famous chestnut-tree which was renowned as the finest and the largest in France, and which bore the reputation among the good people of the eighteenth century of being the father of all the chestnut trees of the realm.
As we have said, this convent of the Temple was occupied by Benedictines of the perpetual Adoration, Benedictines quite different from those who depended on Citeaux.This order of the perpetual Adoration is not very ancient and does not go back more than two hundred years. In 1649 the holy sacrament was profaned on two occasions a few days apart, in two churches in paris, at Saint-Sulpice and at Saint-Jean en Greve, a rare and frightful sacrilege which set the whole town in an uproar.M. the prior and Vicar-General of Saint-Germain des pres ordered a solemn procession of all his clergy, in which the pope's Nuncio officiated.But this expiation did not satisfy two sainted women, Madame Courtin, Marquise de Boucs, and the Comtesse de Chateauvieux.This outrage committed on "the most holy sacrament of the altar," though but temporary, would not depart from these holy souls, and it seemed to them that it could only be extenuated by a "perpetual Adoration" in some female monastery. Both of them, one in 1652, the other in 1653, made donations of notable sums to Mother Catherine de Bar, called of the Holy Sacrament, a Benedictine nun, for the purpose of founding, to this pious end, a monastery of the order of Saint-Benoit; the first permission for this foundation was given to Mother Catherine de Bar by M. de Metz, Abbe of Saint-Germain, "on condition that no woman could be received unless she contributed three hundred livres income, which amounts to six thousand livres, to the principal." After the Abbe of Saint-Germain, the king accorded letters-patent; and all the rest, abbatial charter, and royal letters, was confirmed in 1654 by the Chamber of Accounts and the parliament.
Such is the origin of the legal consecration of the establishment of the Benedictines of the perpetual Adoration of the Holy Sacrament at paris.Their first convent was "a new building" in the Rue Cassette, out of the contributions of Mesdames de Boucs and de Chateauvieux.
This order, as it will be seen, was not to be confounded with the Benedictine nuns of Citeaux.It mounted back to the Abbe of Saint-Germain des pres, in the same manner that the ladies of the Sacred Heart go back to the general of the Jesuits, and the sisters of charity to the general of the Lazarists.
It was also totally different from the Bernardines of the petit-picpus, whose interior we have just shown.In 1657, pope Alexander VII. had authorized, by a special brief, the Bernardines of the Rue petit-picpus, to practise the perpetual Adoration like the Benedictine nuns of the Holy Sacrament.But the two orders remained distinct none the less.

     此外，我们刚才提到的那间像坟墓一样的会客室，只是极个别的，在其他修院里还没有这么严厉。尤其是在大庙街，老实说在属于另一系统的那个修道院里，那种不见光明的板窗是由栗黄色帘幕替代的，会客室也是一间装了镶花地板的小厅，窗上挂着雅致的白纱窗帘，墙上挂着各种各样的玻璃框，有一幅露出了脸的本笃会修女的画像、几幅油画花卉，甚至还有一个土耳其人的头像。
    被看成法国全国最美最大并在十八世纪善良的人民口中誉为“王国一切栗树之父”的那棵印度栗树，正是栽在大庙街上那个修道院的园子里的。
    我们说过，大庙街上的这座修院是属于永敬会一本笃会的修女的，那里的本笃会修女不同于西多的本笃会修女。永敬会的历史并不长久，没有超过两百年。一六四九年，在巴黎的两个礼拜堂里，圣稣尔比斯和格雷沃的圣约翰，圣体曾两次被亵读，前后两次相差不过几天，那种少见的读神罪发生后全城的人都十分震惊。圣日耳曼?德?勃雷的大助理主教兼院长先生传谕给他的全体圣职人员，举行了一次盛大的迎神游行仪式，那次仪式由罗马教皇使臣主持。两个高贵的妇人，古尔丹夫（即布克侯爵夫人）和沙多维安伯爵夫人，感到游行赎罪还不够。那种对“神坛上是崇高的圣体”所犯下的罪行，虽是偶然发生的，但在那两位圣女看来，却认不该就此算完，她们认为只有在某个女修道院里进行“永久的敬礼”才能补赎罪过。她们俩，一个在一六 五二年，一个在一六五三年，为这虔诚的心愿捐献了大笔的钱给一个叫卡特琳?德，巴尔的嬷嬷，又名圣体嬷嬷的本笃会修女，要她替圣件努瓦系创建一个修道院，圣日耳曼修院院长梅茨先生首先允许卡特琳?德?巴尔嬷嬷建院，“约定申请入院的女子必须每年缴纳住院费三百利弗，也就是六千利弗的本金，否则不许入院。继圣耳曼修院院长之后，国王又颁发了准许状，到一六五四年，修院的许可证和国王的准许证又一并经财务部门和法院通过批准。
    这就是本笃会修女们在巴黎建立圣体永敬会的起源和法律根据。她们的第一个修道院是用布克夫人和沙多维安夫人的钱在卡塞特街“修筑一新”的。由此我们明白，那个修道会不可以和西多的本笃会修女搅在一起。它从属于圣日耳曼?德?勃雷的修道院院长，尤如圣心会的嬷嬷从属于耶稣会会长，仁爱会的嬷嬷从属于辣匝禄会一样。
    它与小比克布斯的伯尔纳修女们也绝对是另一码事，小比克布斯内部情形是我先前已谈过的了。罗马教皇亚历山大七世一六五七年有过专令，允许小比克布斯伯尔修女和圣体会的本笃系的修女一样，修持永敬教规。可是那两个修道会并不为此而属于同一系统。

At the beginning of the Restoration, the convent of the petit-picpus was in its decay; this forms a part of the general death of the order, which, after the eighteenth century, has been disappearing like all the religious orders.Contemplation is, like prayer, one of humanity's needs; but, like everything which the Revolution touched, it will be transformed, and from being hostile to social progress, it will become favorable to it.
The house of the petit-picpus was becoming rapidly depopulated. In 1840, the Little Convent had disappeared, the school had disappeared. There were no longer any old women, nor young girls; the first were dead, the latter had taken their departure.Volaverunt.
The rule of the perpetual Adoration is so rigid in its nature that it alarms, vocations recoil before it, the order receives no recruits.In 1845, it still obtained lay-sisters here and there. But of professed nuns, none at all.Forty years ago, the nuns numbered nearly a hundred; fifteen years ago there were not more than twenty-eight of them.How many are there to-day? In 1847, the prioress was young, a sign that the circle of choice was restricted. She was not forty years old.In proportion as the number diminishes, the fatigue increases, the service of each becomes more painful; the moment could then be seen drawing near when there would be but a dozen bent and aching shoulders to bear the heavy rule of Saint-Benoit. The burden is implacable, and remains the same for the few as for the many.It weighs down, it crushes.Thus they die. At the period when the author of this book still lived in paris, two died.One was twenty-five years old, the other twenty-three. This latter can say, like Julia Alpinula:"Hic jaceo.Vixi annos viginti et tres."It is in consequence of this decay that the convent gave up the education of girls.
We have not felt able to pass before this extraordinary house without entering it, and without introducing the minds which accompany us, and which are listening to our tale, to the profit of some, perchance, of the melancholy history of Jean Valjean. We have penetrated into this community, full of those old practices which seem so novel to-day. It is the closed garden, hortus conclusus. We have spoken of this singular place in detail, but with respect, in so far, at least, as detail and respect are compatible. We do not understand all, but we insult nothing.We are equally far removed from the hosanna of Joseph de Maistre, who wound up by anointing the executioner, and from the sneer of Voltaire, who even goes so far as to ridicule the cross.
An illogical act on Voltaire's part, we may remark, by the way; for Voltaire would have defended Jesus as he defended Calas; and even for those who deny superhuman incarnations, what does the crucifix represent?The assassinated sage.
In this nineteenth century, the religious idea is undergoing a crisis.people are unlearning certain things, and they do well, provided that, while unlearning them they learn this:There is no vacuum in the human heart.Certain demolitions take place, and it is well that they do, but on condition that they are followed by reconstructions.
In the meantime, let us study things which are no more.It is necessary to know them, if only for the purpose of avoiding them.The counterfeits of the past assume false names, and gladly call themselves the future. This spectre, this past, is given to falsifying its own passport. Let us inform ourselves of the trap.Let us be on our guard. The past has a visage, superstition, and a mask, hypocrisy.Let us denounce the visage and let us tear off the mask.
As for convents, they present a complex problem,--a question of civilization, which condemns them; a question of liberty, which protects them.

     到了王政复辟时代，小比克布斯修道院已逐渐衰弱下去了，那是它那个支系全部修道会彻底死亡的部分现象，那一支系，到了十八世纪之后，也随着所有其他宗教组织同时进入衰败期。静察与祷告一样，也是人生的一种需求，但是，它和所有一切经革命影响过的事物一样，自己也会改变，而且将由仇视社会的进步，变化为有利于社会的进步。
    小比克布斯院里人口消失得很快，到了一八四○年，小院消亡了，住读学校消亡了。那里不但没有老妇人，也没有小女孩，老的死去了，小的又走了。真是身世飘零。
    永敬会的教规严格到了令人心存恐惧的地步，有祈愿的人裹足不前，会中人找不到后继力量。到一八四五年，担当杂务工作的修女还或许能够找到几个，至于唱诗的修女，就完全没有了。四十年前，修女的总人数几乎有一 百，十五年前，仅有二十八人了。今天还剩多少呢？一八四七年，院长是一 个青年人，这就是说挑选的范围更小了。她当时还不满四十岁。人数锐减，负担就更重，每个人的工作也更加艰难，那时有人已预料到很快就会只余下十多个人、压弯疼痛的肩膀来担负圣伯努瓦的那些沉重的教规。那副重担是始终不变的，不管人的多少，全一样，它压迫着，猛烈地压迫着，于是她们被压迫死了，当本书作者仍住在巴黎时，就死了两个。一个人二十五岁，一 个人二十三岁。后者可以象朱利亚?阿尔比尼拉所说：“我埋在这儿，终年二十三岁。”正是由于这种萧索，修道院才摈弃了对小女孩们的教养。
    我们从那所超凡的无人知晓的黑暗院门前经过，无法不走进去瞧瞧，无法不引着我们的伙伴和听我们讲述冉阿让悲惨史的人的思绪一起走进去，这对有些人来说或许是有益处的。我们已经对那些有着很多古老习俗的组织看了一眼，在今天看来，那些古老习俗是够新鲜离奇的了，那是个紧闭的园子，是一座禁宫。对那奇异之地我们已说得十分详细，但依然是满怀虔敬之心来说的，至少是在详细和虔敬还能相互揉合的范闺内说的。我们并非全面懂得，但是我们不诽谤任何东西。约瑟夫?德。梅斯特尔高声呼吁，他连杀人者也颂扬，伏尔泰却喜笑怒骂，连耶稣受难像也讽刺，而我们站在了他们两人的等距离中间。
    伏尔泰缺乏逻辑，这是随便谈起的，因为伏尔泰极可能用为卡拉斯①一辩的态度同样来为耶稣一辩，而且，对那些绝对否认神化的人，耶稣受难像又能说明什么呢？一个被害死的哲人而已。
    到十九世纪，宗教思想处在危机阶段。人们忘记了某些东西，那是好的，只要在忘却那些东西的时候不能学到别的一些东西就好了。人心多不能怀有空虚。某些破坏行为在进行，进行得不错。但是破坏之后不须有建设。
    在此期间，让我们研究一下那些早已不复存在的东西，认识那些东西是有必要的，即使只是为了回避它们。人们对于复古的行为偏爱加上一个不真实的名字，叫做维新。古，是惜尸还魂，最会制造假护照。我们要防备陷阱，提高警惕。古，有副真面孔，那就是迷信；也有副假面具，那就伪善。让我们揭开它的真面孔，撕下它的假面具。
①卡拉斯（Calas），十八世纪法国商人，被人诬告因不许其儿子摆脱新教而将其杀害，被判处轮刑。死后三年，伏尔泰为他昭雪，改判无罪。
    至于修道院，那是个纷坛复杂的问题。这是一个文化问题，但文化抛弃官；这是一个自由问题，但自由又庇护它。