惊婚记 英文版 Quentin Durward
瓦尔特.司各特 Sir Walter Scott
CHAPTER IV: THE DEJEUNER Page 1
Sacred heaven! what masticators! what bread!
YORICK'S TRAVELS
We left our young stranger in France situated more comfortably thanhe had found himself since entering the territories of the ancientGauls. The breakfast, as we hinted in the conclusion of the lastchapter, was admirable. There was a pate de Perigord, over which agastronome would have wished to live and die, like Homer's lotuseaters (see the Odyssey, chap. ix, where Odysseus arrives atthe land of the Lotus eaters: "whosoever of them ate the lotus'shoneyed fruit resolved to bring tidings back no more and never toleave the place, but with the Lotus eaters there desired to stay,to feed on lotus and forget his going home." Palmer's Translation.),forgetful of kin, native country, and all social obligationswhatever. Its vast walls of magnificent crust seemed raised likethe bulwarks of some rich metropolitan city, an emblem of the wealthwhich they are designed to protect. There was a delicate ragout,with just that petit point de l'ail (a little flavor of garlic.The French is ungrammatical.) which Gascons love, and Scottishmendo not hate. There was, besides, a delicate ham, which had oncesupported a noble wild boar in the neighbouring wood of Mountrichart.There was the most exquisite white bread, made into little roundloaves called boules (whence the bakers took their French name ofboulangers), of which the crust was so inviting, that, even withwater alone, it would have been a delicacy. But the water was notalone, for there was a flask of leather called bottrine, whichcontained about a quart of exquisite Vin de Beaulne. So many goodthings might have created appetite under the ribs of death. Whateffect, then, must they have produced upon a youngster of scarcetwenty, who (for the truth must be told) had eaten little for thetwo last days, save the scarcely ripe fruit which chance affordedhim an opportunity of plucking, and a very moderate portion ofbarley bread? He threw himself upon the ragout, and the plate waspresently vacant -- he attacked the mighty pasty, marched deepinto the bowels of the land, and seasoning his enormous meal withan occasional cup of wine, returned to the charge again and again, tothe astonishment of mine host, and the amusement of Maitre Pierre.
The latter indeed, probably because he found himself the author ofa kinder action than he had thought of, seemed delighted with theappetite of the young Scot; and when, at length, he observed thathis exertions began to languish, endeavoured to stimulate him tonew efforts by ordering confections, darioles (cream cakes), andany other light dainties he could think of, to entice the youth tocontinue his meal. While thus engaged, Maitre Pierre's countenanceexpressed a kind of good humour almost amounting to benevolence,which appeared remote from its ordinary sharp, caustic, and severecharacter. The aged almost always sympathize with the enjoymentsof youth and with its exertions of every kind, when the mind ofthe spectator rests on its natural poise and is not disturbed byinward envy or idle emulation.
Quentin Durward also, while thus agreeably employed, could do nootherwise than discover that the countenance of his entertainer,which he had at first found so unprepossessing, mended when itwas seen under the influence of the Vin de Beaulne, and there waskindness in the tone with which he reproached Maitre Pierre, thathe amused himself with laughing at his appetite, without eatinganything himself.
"I am doing penance," said Maitre Pierre, "and may not eat anythingbefore noon, save some comfiture and a cup of water. -- Bid yonderlady," he added, turning to the innkeeper, "bring them hither tome."
"The best meal I have eaten," said the youth, "since I left GlenHoulakin."
"Glen -- what?" demanded Maitre Pierre. "Are you going to raisethe devil, that you use such long tailed words?"
"Glen Houlakin," answered Quentin good humouredly, "which is tosay the Glen of the Midges, is the name of our ancient patrimony,my good sir. You have bought the right to laugh at the sound, ifyou please."
"I have not the least intention to offend," said the old man; "butI was about to say, since you like your present meal so well, thatthe Scottish Archers of the guard eat as good a one, or a better,every day."
"No wonder," said Durward; "for if they be shut up in the swallows'nests all night, they must needs have a curious appetite in themorning."
"And plenty to gratify it upon," said Maitre Pierre. "They neednot, like the Burgundians, choose a bare back, that they may havea full belly -- they dress like counts, and feast like abbots."
"It is well for them," said Durward.
"And wherefore will you not take service here, young man? Your unclemight, I dare say, have you placed on the file when there shoulda vacancy occur. And, hark in your ear, I myself have some littleinterest, and might be of some use to you. You can ride, I presume,as well as draw the bow?"
"Our race are as good horsemen as ever put a plated shoe intoa steel stirrup; and I know not but I might accept of your kindoffer. Yet, look you, food and raiment are needful things, but,in my case, men think of honour, and advancement, and brave deedsof arms. Your King Louis -- God bless him, for he is a friend andally of Scotland -- but he lies here in this castle, or only ridesabout from one fortified town to another; and gains cities andprovinces by politic embassies, and not in fair fighting. Now,for me, I am of the Douglases' mind, who always kept the fields,because they loved better to hear the lark sing than the mousesqueak."
gapes forhim! Men say that he keeps his own father imprisoned.
"Young man," said Maitre Pierre, "do not judge too rashly ofthe actions of sovereigns. Louis seeks to spare the blood of hissubjects, and cares not for his own. He showed himself a man ofcourage at Montl'hery."
"Ay, but that was some dozen years ago or more," answered the youth-- "I should like to follow a master that would keep his honouras bright as his shield, and always venture foremost in the verythrong of the battle."
"Why did you not tarry at Brussels, then, with the Duke of Burgundy?He would put you in the way to have your bones broken every day;and, rather than fail, would do the job for you himself -- especiallyif he heard that you had beaten his forester."
"Very true," said Quentin; "my unhappy chance has shut that dooragainst me."
"Nay, there are plenty of daredevils abroad, with whom mad youngstersmay find service," said his adviser. "What think you, for example,of William de la Marck?"
"What!" exclaimed Durward, "serve Him with the Beard -- serve theWild Boar of Ardennes -- a captain of pillagers and murderers, whowould take a man's life for the value of his gaberdine, and whoslays priests and pilgrims as if they were so many lance knightsand men at arms? It would be a blot on my father's scutcheon forever."
"Well, my young hot blood," replied Maitre Pierre, "if you holdthe Sanglier (Wild Boar) too unscrupulous, wherefore not followthe young Duke of Gueldres?"
(Adolphus, son of Arnold and of Catherine de Bourbon. . . . He madewar against his father; in which unnatural strife he made the oldman prisoner, and used him with the most brutal violence, proceeding,it is said, even to the length of striking him with his hand.Arnold, in resentment of this usage, disinherited the unprincipledwretch, and sold to Charles of Burgundy whatever rights he had overthe duchy of Gueldres and earldom of Zutphen. . . . S.)
"Follow the foul fiend as soon," said Quentin. "Hark in your ear-- he is a burden too heavy for earth to carry -- hell gapes forhim! Men say that he keeps his own father imprisoned, and that hehas even struck him -- can you believe it?"
Maitre Pierre seemed somewhat disconcerted with the naive horrorwith which the young Scotsman spoke of filial ingratitude, and heanswered, "You know not, young man, how short a while the relationsof blood subsist amongst those of elevated rank;" then changed thetone of feeling in which he had begun to speak, and added, gaily,"besides, if the Duke has beaten his father, I warrant you hisfather hath beaten him of old, so it is but a clearing of scores."
"I marvel to hear you speak thus," said the Scot, colouring withindignation; "gray hairs such as yours ought to have fitter subjectsfor jesting. If the old Duke did beat his son in childhood, he beathim not enough; for better he had died under the rod, than havelived to make the Christian world ashamed that such a monster hadever been baptized."
"At this rate," said Maitre Pierre, "as you weigh the charactersof each prince and leader, I think you had better become a captainyourself; for where will one so wise find a chieftain fit to commandhim?"
aware of."dooragainst me."manmight seek service well enough."Wherefore?
"You laugh at me, Maitre Pierre," said the youth, good humouredly,"and perhaps you are right; but you have not named a man who is agallant leader, and keeps a brave party up here, under whom a manmight seek service well enough."
"I cannot guess whom you mean."
"Why, he that hangs like Mahomet's coffin (there is a traditionthat Mahomet's coffin is suspended in mid air Without any support,the most generally accepted explanation being that the coffin is ofiron and is placed between two magnets) (a curse be upon Mahomet!)between the two loadstones -- he that no man can call either Frenchor Burgundian, but who knows to hold the balance between them both,and makes both of them fear and serve him, for as great princes asthey be."
"I cannot guess whom you mean," said Maitre Pierre, thoughtfully.
"Why, whom should I mean but the noble Louis de Luxembourg, Countof Saint Paul, the High Constable of France? Yonder he makes hisplace good with his gallant little army, holding his head as highas either King Louis or Duke Charles, and balancing between themlike the boy who stands on the midst of a plank, while two othersare swinging on the opposite ends."
(This part of Louis XI's reign was much embarrassed by the intriguesof the Constable Saint Paul, who affected independence, and carriedon intrigues with England, France, and Burgundy at the same time.According to the usual fate of such variable politicians, theConstable ended by drawing upon himself the animosity of all thepowerful neighbours whom he had in their turn amused and deceived.He was delivered up by the Duke of Burgundy to the King of France,tried, and hastily executed for treason, A. D. 1475. S.)
"He is in danger of the worst fall of the three," said MaitrePierre. "And hark ye, my young friend, you who hold pillaging sucha crime, do you know that your politic Count of Saint Paul was thefirst who set the example of burning the country during the time ofwar? and that before the shameful devastation which he committed,open towns and villages, which made no resistance, were spared onall sides?"
"Nay, faith," said Durward, "if that be the case, I shall begin tothink no one of these great men is much better than another, andthat a choice among them is but like choosing a tree to be hungupon. But this Count de Saint Paul, this Constable, hath possessedhimself by clean conveyance of the town which takes its name frommy honoured saint and patron, Saint Quentin" (it was by his possessionof this town of Saint Quentin that the Constable was able to carryon those political intrigues which finally cost him so dear. S.)(here he crossed himself), "and methinks were I dwelling there, myholy patron would keep some look out for me -- he has not so manynamed after him as your more popular saints -- and yet he must haveforgotten me, poor Quentin Durward, his spiritual godson, sincehe lets me go one day without food, and leaves me the next morningto the harbourage of Saint Julian, and the chance courtesy ofa stranger, purchased by a ducking in the renowned river Cher, orone of its tributaries."
"Blaspheme not the saints, my young friend," said Maitre Pierre."Saint Julian is the faithful patron of travellers; and, peradventure,the blessed Saint Quentin hath done more and better for thee thanthou art aware of."
As he spoke, the door opened, and a girl rather above than underfifteen years old, entered with a platter, covered with damask,on which was placed a small saucer of the dried plums which havealways added to the reputation of Tours, and a cup of the curiouslychased plate which the goldsmiths of that city were anciently famousfor executing with a delicacy of workmanship that distinguishedthem from the other cities of France, and even excelled the skillof the metropolis. The form of the goblet was so elegant thatDurward thought not of observing closely whether the material wasof silver, or like what had been placed before himself, of a basermetal, but so well burnished as to resemble the richer ore.
But the sight of the young person by whom this service was executedattracted Durward's attention far more than the petty minutiae ofthe duty which she performed.
He speedily made the discovery that a quantity of long black tresses,which, in the maiden fashion of his own country, were unadornedby any ornament, except a single chaplet lightly woven out of ivyleaves, formed a veil around a countenance which, in its regularfeatures, dark eyes, and pensive expression, resembled that ofMelpomene (the Muse of tragedy), though there was a faint glow onthe cheek, and an intelligence on the lips and in the eye, whichmade it seem that gaiety was not foreign to a countenance soexpressive, although it might not be its most habitual expression.Quentin even thought he could discern that depressing circumstanceswere the cause why a countenance so young and so lovely was graverthan belongs to early beauty; and as the romantic imagination ofyouth is rapid in drawing conclusions from slight premises, he waspleased to infer, from what follows, that the fate of this beautifulvision was wrapped in silence and mystery.
"How now, Jacqueline?" said Maitre Pierre, when she entered theapartment. "Wherefore this? Did I not desire that Dame Peretteshould bring what I wanted? -- Pasques dieu! -- Is she, or doesshe think herself, too good to serve me?"
"My kinswoman is ill at ease," answered Jacqueline, in a hurriedyet a humble tone, -- "ill at ease, and keeps her chamber."
"She keeps it alone, I hope!" replied Maitre Pierre, with someemphasis; "I am vieux routier (one who is experienced in the waysof the world), and none of those upon whom feigned disorders passfor apologies."
Jacqueline turned pale, and even tottered at the answer of MaitrePierre; for it must be owned that his voice and looks, at all timesharsh, caustic, and unpleasing, had, when he expressed anger orsuspicion, an effect both sinister and alarming.
The mountain chivalry of Quentin Durward was instantly awakened,and he hastened to approach Jacqueline and relieve her of the burdenshe bore, and which she passively resigned to him, while, with atimid and anxious look, she watched the countenance of the angryburgess. It was not in nature to resist the piercing and pitycraving expression of her looks, and Maitre Pierre proceeded, notmerely with an air of diminished displeasure, but with as muchgentleness as he could assume in countenance and manner, "I blamenot thee, Jacqueline, and thou art too young to be, what it is pityto think thou must be one day -- a false and treacherous thing,like the rest of thy giddy sex. No man ever lived to man's estate,but he had the opportunity to know you all (he (Louis) entertainedgreat contempt for the understanding, and not less for the character,of the fair sex. S.). Here is a Scottish cavalier will tell youthe same."
Jacqueline looked for an instant on the young stranger, as if toobey Maitre Pierre, but the glance, momentary as it was, appearedto Durward a pathetic appeal to him for support and sympathy; andwith the promptitude dictated by the feelings of youth, and theromantic veneration for the female sex inspired by his education,he answered hastily that he would throw down his gage to anyantagonist, of equal rank and equal age, who should presume tosay such a countenance as that which he now looked upon, could beanimated by other than the purest and the truest mind.
The young woman grew deadly pale, and cast an apprehensive glanceupon Maitre Pierre, in whom the bravado of the young gallant seemedonly to excite laughter, more scornful than applausive. Quentin,whose second thoughts generally corrected the first, though sometimesafter they had found utterance, blushed deeply at having utteredwhat might be construed into an empty boast in presence of an oldman of a peaceful profession; and as a sort of just and appropriatepenance, resolved patiently to submit to the ridicule which he hadincurred. He offered the cup and trencher to Maitre Pierre with ablush in his cheek, and a humiliation of countenance which endeavouredto disguise itself under an embarrassed smile.
"You are a foolish young man," said Maitre Pierre, "and know aslittle of women as of princes, -- whose hearts," he said, crossinghimself devoutly, "God keeps in his right hand."
"And who keeps those of the women, then?" said Quentin, resolved,if he could help it, not to be borne down by the assumed superiorityof this extraordinary old man, whose lofty and careless mannerpossessed an influence over him of which he felt ashamed.
"I am afraid you must ask of them in another quarter," said MaitrePierre, composedly.
Quentin was again rebuffed, but not utterly disconcerted. "Surely,"he said to himself, "I do not pay this same burgess of Tours all thedeference which I yield him, on account of the miserable obligationof a breakfast, though it was a right good and substantial meal. Dogsand hawks are attached by feeding only -- man must have kindness,if you would bind him with the cords of affection and obligation.But he is an extraordinary person; and that beautiful emanationthat is even now vanishing -- surely a thing so fair belongs not tothis mean place, belongs not even to the money gathering merchanthimself, though he seems to exert authority over her, as doubtlesshe does over all whom chance brings within his little circle. Itis wonderful what ideas of consequence these Flemings and Frenchmenattach to wealth -- so much more than wealth deserves, that Isuppose this old merchant thinks the civility I pay to his age isgiven to his money. I a Scottish gentleman of blood and coat armour,and he a mechanic of Tours!"
Such were the thoughts which hastily traversed the mind of youngDurward; while Maitre Pierre said with a smile, and at the same timepatting Jacqueline's heed, from which hung down her long tresses,"This young man will serve me, Jacqueline, thou mayst withdraw. Iwill tell thy negligent kinswoman she does ill to expose thee tobe gazed on unnecessarily."
"It was only to wait on you," said the maiden. "I trust you willnot be displeased with my kinswoman, since" --
"Pasques dieu!" said the merchant, interrupting her, but not harshly,"do you bandy words with me, you brat, or stay you to gaze uponthe youngster here? -- Begone -- he is noble, and his services willsuffice me."