基督山伯爵 英文版 The Count of Monte Cristo
大仲马 Alexandre Dumas père
Chapter 36 Page 2
Albert placed the fresh bouquet in his button-hole, but hekept the faded one in his hand; and when he again met thecalash, he raised it to his lips, an action which seemedgreatly to amuse not only the fair lady who had thrown it,but her joyous companions also. The day was as gay as thepreceding one, perhaps even more animated and noisy; thecount appeared for an instant at his window, but when theyagain passed he had disappeared. It is almost needless tosay that the flirtation between Albert and the fair peasantcontinued all day. In the evening, on his return, Franzfound a letter from the embassy, informing him that he wouldhave the honor of being received by his holiness the nextday. At each previous visit he had made to Rome, he hadsolicited and obtained the same favor; and incited as muchby a religious feeling as by gratitude, he was unwilling toquit the capital of the Christian world without laying hisrespectful homage at the feet of one of St. Peter'ssuccessors who has set the rare example of all the virtues.He did not then think of the Carnival, for in spite of hiscondescension and touching kindness, one cannot inclineone's self without awe before the venerable and noble oldman called Gregory XVI. On his return from the Vatican,Franz carefully avoided the Corso; he brought away with hima treasure of pious thoughts, to which the mad gayety of themaskers would have been profanation. At ten minutes pastfive Albert entered overjoyed. The harlequin had reassumedher peasant's costume, and as she passed she raised hermask. She was charming. Franz congratulated Albert, whoreceived his congratulations with the air of a man consciousthat they are merited. He had recognized by certainunmistakable signs, that his fair incognita belonged to thearistocracy. He had made up his mind to write to her thenext day. Franz remarked, while he gave these details, thatAlbert seemed to have something to ask of him, but that hewas unwilling to ask it. He insisted upon it, declaringbeforehand that he was willing to make any sacrifice theother wished. Albert let himself be pressed just as long asfriendship required, and then avowed to Franz that he woulddo him a great favor by allowing him to occupy the carriagealone the next day. Albert attributed to Franz's absence theextreme kindness of the fair peasant in raising her mask.Franz was not sufficiently egotistical to stop Albert in themiddle of an adventure that promised to prove so agreeableto his curiosity and so flattering to his vanity. He feltassured that the perfect indiscretion of his friend wouldduly inform him of all that happened; and as, during threeyears that he had travelled all over Italy, a similar pieceof good fortune had never fallen to his share, Franz was byno means sorry to learn how to act on such an occasion. Hetherefore promised Albert that he would content himself themorrow with witnessing the Carnival from the windows of theRospoli Palace.
The next morning he saw Albert pass and repass, holding anenormous bouquet, which he doubtless meant to make thebearer of his amorous epistle. This belief was changed intocertainty when Franz saw the bouquet (conspicuous by acircle of white camellias) in the hand of a charmingharlequin dressed in rose-colored satin. The evening was nolonger joy, but delirium. Albert nothing doubted but thatthe fair unknown would reply in the same manner. Franzanticipated his wishes by saying that the noise fatiguedhim, and that he should pass the next day in writing andlooking over his journal. Albert was not deceived, for thenext evening Franz saw him enter triumphantly shaking afolded paper which he held by one corner. "Well," said he,"was I mistaken?"
"She has answered you!" cried Franz.
"Read." This word was pronounced in a manner impossible todescribe. Franz took the letter, and read: --
Tuesday evening, at seven o'clock, descend from yourcarriage opposite the Via dei Pontefici, and follow theRoman peasant who snatches your torch from you. When youarrive at the first step of the church of San Giacomo, besure to fasten a knot of rose-colored ribbons to theshoulder of your harlequin costume, in order that you may berecognized. Until then you will not see me.
Constancy and Discretion.
"Well," asked he, when Franz had finished, "what do youthink of that?"
"I think that the adventure is assuming a very agreeableappearance."
"I think so, also," replied Albert; "and I very much fearyou will go alone to the Duke of Bracciano's ball." Franzand Albert had received that morning an invitation from thecelebrated Roman banker. "Take care, Albert," said Franz."All the nobility of Rome will be present, and if your fairincognita belong to the higher class of society, she must gothere."
"Whether she goes there or not, my opinion is still thesame," returned Albert. "You have read the letter?"
"Yes."
"You know how imperfectly the women of the mezzo cito areeducated in Italy?" (This is the name of the lower class.)
"Yes."
"Well, read the letter again. Look at the writing, and findif you can, any blemish in the language or orthography."(The writing was, in reality, charming, and the orthographyirreproachable.) "You are born to good fortune," said Franz,as he returned the letter.
"Laugh as much as you will," replied Albert, "I am in love."
"You alarm me," cried Franz. "I see that I shall not only goalone to the Duke of Bracciano's, but also return toFlorence alone."
"If my unknown be as amiable as she is beautiful," saidAlbert, "I shall fix myself at Rome for six weeks, at least.I adore Rome, and I have always had a great taste forarchaeology."
read the letter?"Yes."'s self without awe before the venerable and noble oldman called Gregory XVI. On his return from.
"Come, two or three more such adventures, and I do notdespair of seeing you a member of the Academy." DoubtlessAlbert was about to discuss seriously his right to theacademic chair when they were informed that dinner wasready. Albert's love had not taken away his appetite. Hehastened with Franz to seat himself, free to recommence thediscussion after dinner. After dinner, the Count of MonteCristo was announced. They had not seen him for two days.Signor Pastrini informed them that business had called himto Civita Vecchia. He had started the previous evening, andhad only returned an hour since. He was charming. Whether hekept a watch over himself, or whether by accident he did notsound the acrimonious chords that in other circumstances hadbeen touched, he was to-night like everybody else. The manwas an enigma to Franz. The count must feel sure that Franzrecognized him; and yet he had not let fall a single wordindicating any previous acquaintance between them. On hisside, however great Franz's desire was to allude to theirformer interview, the fear of being disagreeable to the manwho had loaded him and his friend with kindness preventedhim from mentioning it. The count had learned that the twofriends had sent to secure a box at the Argentina Theatre,and were told they were all let. In consequence, he broughtthem the key of his own -- at least such was the apparentmotive of his visit. Franz and Albert made some difficulty,alleging their fear of depriving him of it; but the countreplied that, as he was going to the Palli Theatre, the boxat the Argentina Theatre would be lost if they did notprofit by it. This assurance determined the two friends toaccept it.
Franz had by degrees become accustomed to the count'spallor, which had so forcibly struck him at their firstmeeting. He could not refrain from admiring the severebeauty of his features, the only defect, or rather theprincipal quality of which was the pallor. Truly, a Byronichero! Franz could not, we will not say see him, but eventhink of him without imagining his stern head upon Manfred'sshoulders, or beneath Lara's helmet. His forehead was markedwith the line that indicates the constant presence of bitterthoughts; he had the fiery eyes that seem to penetrate tothe very soul, and the haughty and disdainful upper lip thatgives to the words it utters a peculiar character thatimpresses them on the minds of those to whom they areaddressed. The count was no longer young. He was at leastforty; and yet it was easy to understand that he was formedto rule the young men with whom he associated at present.And, to complete his resemblance with the fantastic heroesof the English poet, the count seemed to have the power offascination. Albert was constantly expatiating on their goodfortune in meeting such a man. Franz was less enthusiastic;but the count exercised over him also the ascendency astrong mind always acquires over a mind less domineering. Hethought several times of the project the count had ofvisiting Paris; and he had no doubt but that, with hiseccentric character, his characteristic face, and hiscolossal fortune, he would produce a great effect there. Andyet he did not wish to be at Paris when the count was there.The evening passed as evenings mostly pass at Italiantheatres; that is, not in listening to the music, but inpaying visits and conversing. The Countess G---- wished torevive the subject of the count, but Franz announced he hadsomething far newer to tell her, and, in spite of Albert'sdemonstrations of false modesty, he informed the countess ofthe great event which had preoccupied them for the lastthree days. As similar intrigues are not uncommon in Italy,if we may credit travellers, the comtess did not manifestthe least incredulity, but congratulated Albert on hissuccess. They promised, upon separating, to meet at the Dukeof Bracciano's ball, to which all Rome was invited. Theheroine of the bouquet kept her word; she gave Albert nosign of her existence the morrow or the day after.
At length Tuesday came, the last and most tumultuous day ofthe Carnival. On Tuesday, the theatres open at ten o'clockin the morning, as Lent begins after eight at night. OnTuesday, all those who through want of money, time, orenthusiasm, have not been to see the Carnival before, minglein the gayety, and contribute to the noise and excitement.From two o'clock till five Franz and Albert followed in thefete, exchanging handfuls of confetti with the othercarriages and the pedestrians, who crowded amongst thehorses' feet and the carriage wheels without a singleaccident, a single dispute, or a single fight. The fetes areveritable pleasure days to the Italians. The author of thishistory, who has resided five or six years in Italy, doesnot recollect to have ever seen a ceremony interrupted byone of those events so common in other countries. Albert wastriumphant in his harlequin costume. A knot of rose-coloredribbons fell from his shoulder almost to the ground. Inorder that there might be no confusion, Franz wore hispeasant's costume.
As the day advanced, the tumult became greater. There wasnot on the pavement, in the carriages, at the windows, asingle tongue that was silent, a single arm that did notmove. It was a human storm, made up of a thunder of cries,and a hail of sweetmeats, flowers, eggs, oranges, andnosegays. At three o'clock the sound of fireworks, let offon the Piazza del Popolo and the Piazza di Venezia (heardwith difficulty amid the din and confusion) announced thatthe races were about to begin. The races, like the moccoli,are one of the episodes peculiar to the last days of theCarnival. At the sound of the fireworks the carriagesinstantly broke ranks, and retired by the adjacent streets.All these evolutions are executed with an inconceivableaddress and marvellous rapidity, without the policeinterfering in the matter. The pedestrians ranged themselvesagainst the walls; then the trampling of horses and theclashing of steel were heard. A detachment of carbineers,fifteen abreast, galloped up the Corso in order to clear itfor the barberi. When the detachment arrived at the Piazzadi Venezia, a second volley of fireworks was discharged, toannounce that the street was clear. Almost instantly, in themidst of a tremendous and general outcry, seven or eighthorses, excited by the shouts of three hundred thousandspectators, passed by like lightning. Then the Castle ofSaint Angelo fired three cannon to indicate that numberthree had won. Immediately, without any other signal, thecarriages moved on, flowing on towards the Corso, down allthe streets, like torrents pent up for a while, which againflow into the parent river; and the immense stream againcontinued its course between its two granite banks.
A new source of noise and movement was added to the crowd.The sellers of moccoletti entered on the scene. The moccoli,or moccoletti, are candles which vary in size from thepascal taper to the rushlight, and which give to each actorin the great final scene of the Carnival two very seriousproblems to grapple with, -- first, how to keep his ownmoccoletto alight; and secondly, how to extinguish themoccoletti of others. The moccoletto is like life: man hasfound but one means of transmitting it, and that one comesfrom God. But he has discovered a thousand means of takingit away, and the devil has somewhat aided him. Themoccoletto is kindled by approaching it to a light. But whocan describe the thousand means of extinguishing themoccoletto? -- the gigantic bellows, the monstrousextinguishers, the superhuman fans. Every one hastened topurchase moccoletti -- Franz and Albert among the rest.
The night was rapidly approaching; and already, at the cryof "Moccoletti!" repeated by the shrill voices of a thousandvendors, two or three stars began to burn among the crowd.It was a signal. At the end of ten minutes fifty thousandlights glittered, descending from the Palazzo di Venezia tothe Piazza del Popolo, and mounting from the Piazzo delPopolo to the Palazzo di Venezia. It seemed like the fete ofjack-o'-lanterns. It is impossible to form any idea of itwithout having seen it. Suppose that all the stars haddescended from the sky and mingled in a wild dance on theface of the earth; the whole accompanied by cries that werenever heard in any other part of the world. The facchinofollows the prince, the Transteverin the citizen, every oneblowing, extinguishing, relighting. Had old AEolus appearedat this moment, he would have been proclaimed king of themoccoli, and Aquilo the heir-presumptive to the throne. Thisbattle of folly and flame continued for two hours; the Corsowas light as day; the features of the spectators on thethird and fourth stories were visible. Every five minutesAlbert took out his watch; at length it pointed to seven.The two friends were in the Via dei Pontefici. Albert sprangout, bearing his moccoletto in his hand. Two or three masksstrove to knock his moccoletto out of his hand; but Albert,a first-rate pugilist, sent them rolling in the street, oneafter the other, and continued his course towards the churchof San Giacomo. The steps were crowded with masks, whostrove to snatch each other's torches. Franz followed Albertwith his eyes, and saw him mount the first step. Instantly amask, wearing the well-known costume of a peasant woman,snatched his moccoletto from him without his offering anyresistance. Franz was too far off to hear what they said;but, without doubt, nothing hostile passed, for he sawAlbert disappear arm-in-arm with the peasant girl. Hewatched them pass through the crowd for some time, but atlength he lost sight of them in the Via Macello. Suddenlythe bell that gives the signal for the end of the carnivalsounded, and at the same instant all the moccoletti wereextinguished as if by enchantment. It seemed as though oneimmense blast of the wind had extinguished every one. Franzfound himself in utter darkness. No sound was audible savethat of the carriages that were carrying the maskers home;nothing was visible save a few lights that burnt behind thewindows. The Carnival was over.