Chapter 55 Volume 8 Girlfriends (2)

On the outskirts of Paris, in a small place near the forest of the Ile d'Adam, in the great garden of the Langyeil estate, Olivier and Jacqueline had a lifelong conversation. Christophe was there with his friends; but he found an organ in the house, played it, and let the two of them go for a walk. —Actually, they didn't want him to.They are afraid of being alone.Jacqueline was silent and somewhat hostile.When we met last time, Olivier had already noticed that her attitude had suddenly become cold, and her eyes looked cruel, even hostile.His heart went cold when he saw it.He didn't dare to cross-examine, for fear of hearing some cruel words from his lover's mouth.As soon as he saw Christophe leave that day, his heart trembled, and he felt that only Christophe's presence could save him from the expected blow.

Jacqueline's love for Olivier was not a little less.She only loves him more.Because of this, she felt a little hostile towards him.The love she had longed for so much as a game, now came, before her; but when she saw it become a hole under her feet, she looked back in fright.She could not understand, and thought to herself: "But why? Why? What does it mean?" Then she looked at Olivier with the look that hurt him, and thought again: "Who is this man?" she does not know. "Why do I love him?" she does not know. "Do I love him or not?" She didn't know... didn't know; but she knew that she was caught, by love; that she herself was going to be completely annihilated in love, her will, her independence, her selfishness, her dreams for the future , everything must be wiped out on this monster.So she jumped up angrily, and sometimes she hated Olivier.

They went straight to the end of the garden, and came to the vegetable garden, separated by a row of tall trees and lawns, and walked along the path with small steps: red currant trees were planted on both sides, with many red and dark fruits hanging on them. There are pieces of fragrant bayberry.It was June and the weather was cool after the showers.The sky was gray with only half light; the low clouds moved heavily with the wind in large chunks.But none of this far-off wind blows to the ground: not a single leaf moves.An infinitely desolate atmosphere enveloped everything and enveloped their hearts.And at the other end of the garden, from the half-opened windows of the invisible cottage, came the sound of an organ playing Johann Sebastian Bach's Fugue in E-flat minor.The two of them sat next to each other on the railing of the well, their faces were pale and they could not make a sound.Olivier saw tears streaming down Jacqueline's face.

"Why are you crying?" He asked softly, his lips trembling. And his tears flowed out. He takes her hand.She rested her head on Olivier's shoulder.She didn't want to resist any more, she was beaten; that was a relief! ... The two were crying softly, listening to the music, the heavy cloud moved silently above their heads, as if they were passing over the treetops.They think of their past pains,--perhaps of their future pains.The melancholy that simmers around one's fate is sometimes suddenly revealed by music... After a while, Jacqueline wiped her eyes and looked at Olivier.Suddenly they embrace.oh!Indescribable happiness!Holy happiness!Such sweetness, such depth, even makes people feel painful! ...

Jacqueline asked: "Is your sister like you?" Olivier was taken aback: "Why did you mention her? Do you know her?" "Christophe told me...you used to be very painful, didn't you?" Olivier nodded, too moved to answer. "I used to suffer too," she said. Then she told of her dead friend, dear Aunt Maddow, and said very sadly that she had cried to death. "You'll help me, won't you?" she said imploringly. "Help me live, be a good man, and set an example to my poor aunt! Do you like my aunt, do you?" "We love them both. Just as they will love each other."

"Too bad they're not here anymore." "Here they are!" The two hugged each other so tightly that they could feel each other's heartbeat.Suddenly there was a light rain, which made Jacqueline shudder. "Let's go in," she said. It was almost dark under the shade of the tree, and Olivier kissed the moist hair of Jacqueline; she raised her head to him, and for the first time his lips felt those lips that moved with love, the burning and a little girlishness. Cracked lips.They almost fainted. Near the house they stopped again. "How lonely we were!" he said.

He had already forgotten about Christophe. But they immediately thought of something else.The sound of the piano is gone.They go into the house.Christophe rested his elbows on the organ, held his head in his hands, and was also thinking of many past events.He woke up from the dream only when he heard the door open, and looked at them with a kind face, with a solemn and gentle smile on his face.He knew what was going by when he saw their eyes, and he shook their hands, and said, "Sit down. Let me play something for you." They sat down, and on the piano he poured out all the feelings in his chest, all the love he had for them both.After playing, all three were silent.Then he stood up and looked at them.How kindly he looked, how much older and stronger than they were!It was only then that she experienced Christophe's heart for the first time.He took them both in his arms, and said to Jacqueline: "You love him very much, don't you? You all love each other very much, don't you?"

Both felt indebted to him.But Christophe immediately changed the subject.Laughing loudly, she went to the window and jumped into the garden. In the next few days, he persuaded Olivier to propose to Jacqueline's parents.Olivier dared not, fearing the expected rejection.Christophe also forced him to find an errand at the same time.Assuming that the two elders agreed, Olivier could not accept Jacqueline's property if he could not make a living.Olivier thought as he did, but he did not agree with his overly guarded, almost comical attitude towards marrying a rich woman.Christophe always believed that wealth is poisonous to the soul.He was fond of quoting a wise man who spoke to a wealthy woman concerned about the salvation of her soul:

"Why, ma'am, you have millions of furniture, but you still want to have an immortal soul?" "You have to beware of women," he said to Olivier, half-seriously, half-jokingly, "beware of women, especially rich women! It may be true that women love art; but she suffocates artists. Rich women hurt art and artists. Wealth is a disease. Women suffer more than men. All rich people are abnormal... Are you laughing? Are you laughing at me? Humph! Does a rich man know what life is? Does he have any contact with the hard reality? Has he tasted the taste of hunger and cold? Has he smelled the bread bought with his own labor? Is it the smell of cultivated land? What does he know about all living things? He can’t even see it!... When I was a child, I was taken out to play in the carriage of the Grand Duke several times. I was familiar with every grass as the carriage passed by. through the woods that I loved when I ran alone. But then I couldn't see anything. All those lovely sights became as dead and unnatural as the fools who showed me around. That A group of stupid and old-fashioned people are like a curtain that separates the grassland from my heart; more than that, as long as I have a plank under my feet and a roof over my head, it can separate me from the sky and the earth. To feel that the earth is my mother, Must put my foot in its belly, like a newborn baby at the first sight of the light. Wealth cuts off the connection between the earth and the human beings, and cuts off all the children of the earth from each other. How can you still be An artist? An artist is the voice of the earth. A rich man cannot become a great artist. If he can, then in such an unsuitable environment, he must have a genius that is a thousand times better than others. And even if he succeeds, he must Inevitably a hot-house fruit. Not even the great Goethe: his soul is matched by shriveled limbs, and he lacks those vital organs that riches have cut off. You have neither Goethe's boldness, Inevitably swallowed by wealth, especially by a rich wife, Goethe at least avoided. A single man can resist disaster. He has a natural toughness, and some tough instincts follow him. The land is joined together. But a woman is susceptible to poison, and transmits poison to others. She loves the spiced stench of wealth. It is a miracle that she has wealth and can keep her mind healthy. As if a millionaire had a genius...and I don't like bogeymen. Anyone who has more than he needs is a bogeyman—a cancer that eats away at others."

Olivier smiled and said: "But I can't stop loving Jacqueline just because she is not poor, nor can I force her to become poor just to love me." "If you can't save her, at least save yourself! And that's the best way to save her. You've got to be pure. You've got to work." Olivier did not need Christophe to tell him these concerns.He is more sensitive than he is.It's not that he took Christophe's curse on wealth seriously, he himself was born in a rich family, he never despises property, and thinks that property is very suitable for Jacqueline's pretty face.But he couldn't stand people's suspicion that his love was for profit, so he asked to re-enter the education field.All I can hope for at present is a very ordinary position in an inland middle school.This was the poor wedding present he could offer to Jacqueline.He was very embarrassed to talk about it with her.Jacqueline couldn't accept his reason at first: she thought it was ridiculous to think that this kind of excessive dominance was influenced by Christophe; when a person is really in love, isn't it natural to share weal and woe with the one he loves?Isn't it hypocritical to refuse the favors that your lover is willing to contribute to him? ... But at the end, she still agreed with Olivier's plan; because there was something bitter and unpleasant in the plan, she made up her mind, thinking that this was an opportunity to satisfy her passion for sacrifice.The death of her aunt aroused her resistance to the environment, and love even more excited her.She denied everything in her nature that was incompatible with mystical passions; she seemed to draw a bow full to shoot her life at an ideal which was pure, hard, at the same time. And a happy and glorious life... The obstacles in the future, the poor situation, all turned into joy for her.What a wonderful realm that is! ...

Madame Langeais was so preoccupied with herself that she had no time to notice what was going on around her.Lately she's only thinking about her health, busy with her unfounded illnesses, trying one doctor now and another: every new doctor is a lifesaver; after fifteen days there's another one.She stayed away from home for several months, lived in an expensive nursing home, and performed all kinds of ridiculous treatments devoutly, forgetting about her daughter and her husband. Mr. Langeais, who cared more about his family, began to guess his daughter's plan.That's what his fatherly jealousy reminded him of.He had always felt for Jacqueline the enigmatic tenderness which many fathers feel for their daughters and refuse to admit; it was a mysterious, sensual, almost divine curiosity which makes one think in oneself. The incarnation of his own flesh and blood is reborn in a woman.In the midst of such secret moods, there are shadows and dim flashes, which it is better not to know.So far, he had found it amusing for his daughter to make young men mad: he liked her this way: coquettish, whimsical, but clear-headed—like himself.But he was not relieved when he saw that things were faked.He began to tease Olivier in front of Jacqueline, and later criticized him in a rather sharp tone.Jacqueline smiled at first, and said: "Don't speak so badly of him, father, you will be embarrassed later if I marry him." Monsieur Langeais cried out aloud, taking her for a madman.That's a great way to make her totally nuts!He said she could never marry Olivier.She said she must marry him.The curtain was lifted.He found that she no longer cared about him.The selfishness of the father can't help being outraged.He swore that Olivier and Christophe would never come again.Jacqueline was furious.One morning, Olivier opened the door and saw her rolled into the house like a gust of wind, his face turned pale, and he said to him very resolutely: "Take me away! Mom and Dad don't agree. But I insist No. I'm not going back." Olivier was horrified and moved, and didn't want to have a long-term discussion with her.Fortunately, Christophe was at home.Usually he is the most irrational, but that day he persuaded them to be rational.He said that they would make a scandal, and it would be even more painful in the future.Jacqueline bit her lip angrily, and replied, "We'll kill ourselves in the future." Far from frightening Olivier, these words made him make up his mind.Christophe managed to teach the two lunatics to be patient for the time being; he said that before using this last resort, other methods must be tried: Jacqueline will go home first, and he will go to see M. Langeais. lobbyist. Weird lobbyist!He had just said a few words, and M. Langeais almost turned him out; then he thought it was ridiculous again.The visitor's seriousness, honesty, and unquestionable attitude gradually moved the listeners; however, Langeais remained unmoved and continued to say some sarcastic remarks.Christophe just didn't hear; but when the opponent shot a particularly sharp cold arrow, he also stopped, hesitated for a while without making a sound, and then continued.At one point, he tapped his fist on the table and said: "Take my word for it: my visit was not an interesting event to me: I really had to repress myself not to find fault with some of your expressions; but I think I have a right to speak to you, so I will I said it. Please be as objective as I am, and consider my words." Monsieur Langeais listened; he shrugged his shoulders and pretended to laugh at the idea of ​​suicide; but his heart was indeed shaken.With his cleverness, he would never take this threat as a joke; he knew that the madness of the infatuated woman should be taken into account.In the past, he had a mistress who was always jovial and had a good temper. He thought that she would never carry out her big words, but she shot herself in front of him, and she didn't die instantly; For example, now... I have no confidence in dealing with those crazy girls.Thinking of this, he couldn't help feeling sad for a while... "Does she want it herself? Well then, the silly child deserves to be in trouble!..." Of course, he might use some tricks, pretend to agree, delay the day, and then slowly use it. Jacqueline alienates Olivier.But it would require a lot of effort that he was unwilling or unable to spend.Besides, he was also a soft-hearted man; because he had said "No!" to Jacqueline so viciously, he was no longer willing to say "Yes" out of intolerance.After all, who knows what's going on in the world?Perhaps the child is right.The main thing is that the two are in love.It was not that Mr. Langeais did not know that Olivier was a gentleman, and perhaps talented... so he agreed. The day before their wedding, the two friends stayed together until midnight.They all want to have a good taste of the last few hours of a lovely past.But the present time has passed.Like those bleak partings, everyone insisted on staying on the platform before the car started, looking at each other and talking, but the heart is no longer here; the friend has gone away... Christophe said in the middle of a sentence, Noticing the distracted look in Olivier's eyes, he stopped, smiled, and said, "You're not here anymore!" Olivier apologized apprehensively, because he felt sorry for being so distracted during the last intimate time.But Christophe shook his hand and said: "Forget it, don't force it. I'm happy. Dream your dreams, child." They stood close together at the window, looking out at the garden in the dark.After a while, Christophe said to Olivier: "Do you want to run away from me? Do you think you can escape me? You are thinking of your Jacqueline. But I will catch up. I am thinking of her too." "Good friend," Olivier replied, "I don't miss you! Even..." He stopped here. Christophe continued his words with a smile: "...even if it is so difficult to think about me!..." When attending the wedding, Christophe was well dressed, it can be said that she was very beautiful.They did not use religious ceremonies; Olivier because of his indifference to religion, Jacqueline because of rebellion, neither of them wanted to.Christophe wrote a piece in the form of a symphony to be performed in the district office; but at the last moment, he understood what a civil marriage was, and gave up the music, thinking it was ridiculous, showing that a person has neither faith nor faith. , nor free thought.It is not so easy to turn a true Old Testament into a freethinker than to turn a civil servant into a priest.Between God and a free conscience, there is absolutely no reason to bring the state in place of religion.The state only cares about registration, not association. The circumstances of the marriage of Olivier and Jacqueline made Christophe feel fortunate that no music had been included in the ceremony.The mayor complimented the new couple vulgarly, the rich family of the bride and the witnesses who hung the medals.Olivier listened absently and sarcastically.Jacqueline didn't listen at all, and secretly stuck out her tongue at Simone, who was staring at her coldly; she had bet her host that marriage "would never make her nervous", and now she was about to win the host: she simply I don't think much of getting married is myself, even if I think about it, I just think it's fun.The rest were all putting on airs for the sake of the guests, and the guests were all looking at them with their spectacles.Mr. Langeais was only interested in showing off in front of people; although his feelings for his daughter were so genuine, he was most concerned about the guests at that time, wondering if he had missed any invitations.Only Christophe was very excited. He seemed to be a parent, a wedding party, and the mayor of the district at the same time.He nailed Olivier intently, but Olivier didn't look at him. In the evening, the couple set off for Italy.Christophe and Monsieur Langeais escorted them to the station, saw the new couple very happy, without any regrets, and did not hide their desire to go away as soon as possible.Olivier was like a young man, Jacqueline like a little girl... Such partings are very sad.The father watched his daughter being taken away by a stranger... and became farther and farther away from him.But all they felt was a liberating intoxication.There are no constraints, no obstacles, they think they have reached the pinnacle of life, everything is ready, there is no need to be afraid, and they can die without regret... Afterwards, they realize that this is just a stage.After turning over the mountain, there is a long way to go; and few people can reach the second stage... The train took them away in the dark.Christophe and Langeais went back together, and said something playfully: "We're all widowers now!" M. Longeye laughed.They said their goodbyes and went on their way home.Both are sad.But it was a sad and sweet feeling.Christophe thought to himself in the bedroom: "Now the noblest part of my life is happy." Everything in Olivier's house remained as it was.The two friends agreed that before Olivier came back to move, his furniture and souvenirs would still be kept by Christophe.So he is still there.Christophe looked at Andonard's photograph, put it on his desk, and said to it: "Friend, are you happy?" He often - a little too closely - wrote to Olivier.Replies were few, and the content was absent-minded, and the friend gradually became estranged from him spiritually.He was disappointed, but forced himself to believe that was the way it should be; he didn't worry about the future of their friendship. Loneliness didn't bother him.Not lonely enough for his taste. Already the backing of the Great Daily disgusted him.Arsène Gamache had a temper, thinking that the celebrities whom he had painstakingly promoted should belong to him, and their glory should be merged with his glory, just as Louis XIV arranged around the throne Molière, Le · Brun and Lu Li same.Christophe felt that in art, even the Kaiser was not necessarily more annoying than the boss of his "Great Daily".Because this journalist knows no more about art than the emperor, and he has no fewer prejudices than him; as long as he doesn't like it, he will never allow it to exist, saying it is bad and dangerous; he will destroy it for the public's welfare.The ugliest and most frightening thing is the deformed, ignorant philistine, who thinks that with money and newspapers, he can not only control politics, but also control thoughts: whoever listens to their orders will be rewarded with a A nest, a chain, some meat-loaves; whoever refuses them, they send out thousands of lackeys to bite! —Christopher is not a guy to be scolded.He thinks it would be outrageous for an ass to tell him what he should and shouldn't do in music; he says that art requires more preparation than politics.He flatly refused to set music to a boring script, even if the author was one of the senior staff of the newspaper and introduced it specially for the boss.This incident made the friendship between him and Gamash begin to cool down. But Christophe was happy because of it.He had just emerged from his life of obscurity, and he was already eager to return to his life of obscurity.He felt that "this kind of powerful business card will make you get lost in the crowd."There are too many people who care about him.He pondered Goethe's words: "When a writer attracts the attention of the public with one valuable work, the public tries to prevent him from producing a second valuable work... A talented person who keeps his secrets hidden can't help being involved in controversy A turbulent society because everyone thinks they can get a little credit from a writer." So he closed the door and stayed at home, only near a few old friends.He went to visit the Arnos who had become estranged recently.Mrs. Arno was always alone part of the day, and had plenty of time to think about other people's sorrows.She thought of the emptiness Christophe felt after Olivier's departure, and she invited him to dinner with a suppressed feeling of timidity.She would have liked to come and take care of his household from time to time, but she had no guts; this was perhaps better: for Christophe absolutely did not like being consulted about him.But he went to Arno's house for dinner, and often went to their house to sit for a while at dusk. He found the couple always so close, maintaining the same tender and melancholy atmosphere, grayer than ever.Arnold went through a decadent period mentally, and his teaching career had worn him down very hard—tiring labor, day after day, never changing, like a wheel always spinning in one place, never stopping, and never changing. forward.Patient as he was, the good man was dejected.He was sad about some injustice, and felt that his allegiance was useless.Mrs. Arno encouraged him with gentle words; she seemed always so gentle and quiet, but she gradually withered away.Christophe congratulated Arno in front of her for having such a virtuous wife. "Yes," Arno said, "she's so nice: she's always stable no matter what happens. It's her luck, and it's my luck, too, and if she's bitter about our life, I'll be devastated. " Mrs. Arno blushed and remained silent.Then she moved on to other matters in a steady tone. —Christophe's visits were, as a rule, very useful to them; and for his part, he was happy to come to these good people to warm his heart. At that time, another girlfriend came, or more precisely, Christophe went to find him; because although she wanted to know him, she would never come to see him on her own initiative.It was a woman of about twenty-five years old, a musician, the first prize of the piano at the National Academy of Music, named Cecil Fleury.Short, quite fat; thick eyebrows, beautiful big watery eyes; small and thick nose upturned, reddish, like a duckbill; thick lips, indicating that people are very honest and gentle; chin Fat, very strong, full of personality; the forehead is not high, but very wide; the thick hair is tied into a big bun hanging around the neck; the thick arms, the hands of the pianist, are long and big, and the finger The tip is square, and the thumb is far apart from the other fingers.She was full of vitality, and she was as healthy as a countryman.She lives with her mother and is very filial to her.My mother is also a kind woman who has no interest in music, but because she often hears people talk about it, she also talks about music and knows all the trends in the music industry.Cecil lived an ordinary life, teaching classes all day long, and sometimes giving concerts that were not noticed.On weekdays, she comes home very late, walking or taking a street car, exhausted, but in good spirits; when she comes back, she cheers up to practice the piano, sew hats, talks a lot, loves to laugh, and loves to sing inexplicably. . Life didn't favor her.She knew the value of a little enjoyment of hard work, and was well aware of small pleasures, small improvements in her situation or in her art.She was delighted if she earned five francs more this month than last, or if she finally finished playing a passage of Chopin which she had been playing for weeks.Her self-study homework is not too much, it just matches her ability, and it makes her physically and mentally happy like proper exercise.Playing the piano, singing, and teaching, these normal and regular activities made her feel that her life was not wasted, and on the other hand, she was able to live a moderately prosperous life with some steady achievements.She has a good appetite, eats well, sleeps well, and never falls ill. She is just, reasonable, modest, well-balanced, free from troubles: for she is concerned with the present, neither the past nor the future.Now that she is in good health, and her life is secure, without any troubles, she is almost always happy.She is happy to practice the piano, she is also happy to take care of housework, and she is also happy to do nothing.Her life is not lived day by day——(she is very economical and has a budget for doing things),—but minute by minute.She has no lofty ideals in her heart; even if she has, it is a bourgeois ideal that can be seen in all her actions and thoughts, that is to say, she loves what she does with peace of mind.She went to church on Sunday; but religious sentiments had no place in her life.She admired those fanatics who, like Christophe, had a belief or a genius; but she did not envy: what to do with their boredom and their genius? So how could she experience the music of great writers?She couldn't tell herself.All she knew was that she felt it.What sets her apart from other performers lies in her physical and mental health and balance.This soul, which has no passion of its own but is very vigorous, is a particularly fertile field for the enthusiasm of strangers.She was not disturbed by it.The terrible enthusiasm that had eaten away the artist, she was able to convey its momentum as much as possible without being poisoned by it; she felt only the power of those works and the happy fatigue after playing them.At that time, she was sweating profusely, she was exhausted, she smiled serenely, and felt satisfied. Jean-Christophe heard her perform one night and was greatly appreciative.He shook her hand after the meeting to congratulate her.She was very grateful: the audience was small that night, and she was never much admired.She neither has the ingenious means to join any music group, nor does she have the ability to attract the general fans to follow her. She doesn't claim to be an expert on Bach or Beethoven, and she doesn't claim to be an expert on what she plays, but just honestly plays out what she feels, - so no one pays attention to her, and critics don't know She: Because no one told them that she played well; and they themselves didn't know whether it was good or bad. Christophe saw Cecil often afterwards.There was an indescribable attraction to him for this strong and stable woman.She is very strong and cares less about fame and fortune.Angry at being ignorant of her, he proposed to teach the friends of the Great Journal to mention her.Although she is very happy to be praised, she begs him not to plot for her.She doesn't want to fight, spend a lot of energy, and make others jealous; she just wants to live in peace.It would have been better if she hadn't been mentioned.She is never jealous of talent, and she is the first to marvel at the skills of other performers.She has neither ambition nor desire, she is too lazy to do so.If she had no definite object at hand to be concerned with, she did nothing: she had no thoughts, and at night she lay in bed either falling asleep or thinking of nothing.How many unmarried women at this age are obsessed with marriage and are afraid of becoming an old maid, but she has no such worries.She was asked if she liked a good husband, and she replied: "Well, why such an ambition? Why don't you dream of fifty thousand francs? One ought to be content, one ought to keep one's place. It would be better if they gave it to you." ! Or forget it. One can't think white bread is bad because you don't have cake. Especially after you've had hard bread for a long time!" "And," continued the mother, "there are many people who don't have to eat every day!" Cecil had her own reasons for not trusting men.The father who passed away a few years ago was a cowardly and lazy man, causing his wife and children to suffer a lot.She also has a brother who is no good, who is doing something, who shows up every now and then, asking the family for money; everyone is afraid of him, thinks he is ashamed, and fears that one day they will hear about something wrong with him; but everyone loves him.Christophe saw him once.He was at Cecil's when someone rang the bell and his mother ran to open the door.Then he heard someone talking in the next room, shouting loudly now and then.Cecil seemed to panic, and went out too, leaving Christophe alone.The quarrel continued next door, and the stranger gradually took on a threatening tone; Christophe thought he should go out to interfere, so he opened the door and went out, but he only saw the back of a young man with a slightly deformed body, and he was chased away by Cecil. Come and stop him, begging him to go back into the house.She came in with her; they all sat in silence.The visitor yelled for a few more minutes next door, left, and knocked on the door vigorously.So Cecil sighed and said to Christophe, "Yes...it's my brother." Christophe understood. "Ah!" he said, "I know... I, I have one too..." Cecil shook his hand, and said kindly and sympathetically, "Do you have it too?" "Yes...they are the treasures that make the family laugh." Cecil laughed; they changed the subject of their conversation.Really, this kind of baby that makes the family laugh is not to her taste, and the idea of ​​marriage does not touch her heart: men are not interesting, it is better to live an independent life.The mother can only sigh when she sees her daughter like this; she doesn't want to lose her freedom, and her only dream is that one day in the future - God knows when! — to live in the country.But she didn't want to bother to imagine the details of that life, and felt that it was too boring to think about such a vague thing, and she might as well sleep,—or do her work... Before realizing her dream, she rented a small house in the suburbs of Paris for the summer and lived with her mother.That's a 20-minute train ride away.The house was quite far from the solitary station, in the middle of a vast wasteland, and Cecil often returned late at night, but he was not afraid, and did not believe in any danger.Although she had a pistol, she often forgot it at home and didn't use it very well. When Christophe visited her, he often asked her to play the piano.Her deep comprehension of musical compositions delighted him, especially when he directed her with expressions in a few words.He found that she had a good voice, which she hadn't thought of.He persuaded her to train, taught her to sing old German ballads or his own compositions; she sang with interest and improved technique, to the amazement of both of them.She is extremely talented.The light of music shone miraculously on this little Parisian bourgeois without artistic sentiment.Nightingale - (as he called her) - occasionally mentioned music, but always in practical terms, never in emotional terms; she seemed concerned only with singing and piano technique.When she and Christophe were not making music, they talked about ordinary things: not housework, cooking, or daily life.Christophe, who was usually impatient to talk about these topics with a bourgeois woman, had a good time talking with Nightingale. 他们这样的在一块儿消磨夜晚，彼此真诚的相爱，用一种恬静的，几乎是冷淡的感情。有天晚上他来吃晚饭，比平时耽久了些，突然下了一场阵雨。等到他想上车站去赶最后一班火车的时候，外面正是大风大雨；她和他说：“算了罢！明儿早上走罢。” 他在小客厅里睡着一张临时搭起来的床。客厅和赛西尔的卧室之间只有一重薄薄的板壁，门也关不严的。他在床上听到另一张床格格的响，也听到赛西尔平静的呼吸。过了五分钟，她已经睡熟了；他也跟着入梦，没有一点骚乱的念头惊扰他们。 同时，他又得到一批陌生朋友，被他的作品招引来的。他们住的地方大半离开巴黎很远，或是幽居独处，从来不会遇到克利斯朵夫的。一个人的名片即使是鄙俗的，也有一桩好处；就是使上千上万的好人能够认识艺术家，而这一点，要没有报上那些荒谬的宣传就办不到。克利斯朵夫和其中的几个发生了关系。有的是孤独的青年，生活非常艰苦，一心一意的追求着一个自己并无把握的理想：他们尽量吸收着克利斯朵夫友爱的精神。也有的是一些内地的无名小卒，读了他的歌以后写信给他，象老许茨一样，觉得和他声气相通。也有的是清苦的艺术家，——其中有一个作曲家，——不但没法成功，并且也没法表白自己：他们看到自己的思想被克利斯朵夫表现了出来，快活极了。而最可爱的也许是信上不屠名的人：因为这样他们说话可以更自由，很天真的把信心寄托在这个支持他们的长兄身上。克利斯朵夫多么愿意爱这些可爱的灵魂，但他永远不能认识他们，因之大为惆怅。他吻着那些陌生人的信，好似写信的人吻着克利斯朵夫的歌一样；各人都在心里想：“亲爱的纸张，你们给了我多少恩惠！” 这样，根据物以类聚的原则，他周围有了一群志同道合的人，仿佛是一个天才的家属，在他身上汲取营养，同时也给他营养。这集团慢慢的扩大，终于形成一颗以他为中心的集体灵魂，——好象一个光明的世界，一个无形的星球在太空中运行，把它友爱的歌声跟一切星球之间的和声交融为一。 正当克利斯朵夫和他那些精神上的朋友有了神秘的联系的时候，他的艺术思想发生了重大的变化，变得更宽广，更富于人间性。他不再希望音乐只是一种独白，只是自己的语言，更不希望它是只有内行了解的艰深复杂的结构。他要音乐成为和人类沟通的桥梁。唯有跟别人息息相通的艺术才是有生命的艺术。约翰·赛巴斯蒂安·巴赫在最孤独的时间，也靠着他在艺术中表白的宗教信仰和其余的人结合为一。亨德尔和莫扎特的写作，由于事势所趋，也是为了一批群众而不是只为他们自己。连贝多芬也得顾到大众。而这是大有裨益的。人类应当用这种话提醒天才： “你的艺术中间哪些是为我的？要是没有，那末我不需要你！” 这种强制使艺术家第一个得到好处。当然，只表白自己的大艺术家也有。但最伟大的总是那些心儿为全人类跳动的艺术家。谁要面对面的见到活的上帝，就得爱人类；在自己荒漠的思想中是找不到上帝的。 然而当代的艺人谈不到这种爱。他们只为了一批虚荣的，混乱的，脱离社会生活的少数人士写作，——这等少数人士绝对不愿意分享别人的热情，或竟加以玩弄。为了不要跟别人一样，他们宁可和人生割绝。这种人还是死了的好。我们可是要走向活人堆里去的，我们要喝着大地的甘乳，吸收人类最圣洁的部分，汲取他们爱家庭爱土地的感情。在最自由的世纪，意大利文艺复兴的代表拉斐尔，在那些圣母像中讴歌母性的光荣。今日谁能为我们在音乐上作一幅《圣母坐像》呢？谁能为我们作出人生各个阶段的音乐呢？你们一无①所有，你们法国一无所有。你们想拿些歌曲给民众的时候，不得不剽窃德国往日的名作。在你们的艺术中，从底层到峰顶，一切都得从头做起，或者重新做起…… ----------------- ①拉斐尔所作圣母像多至不胜枚举，《圣母坐像》为其中之一，现藏意大利佛罗伦萨毕蒂博物馆。 克利斯朵夫和此刻卜居在外省的奥里维通信，想靠书信来继续他们从前产量丰富的合作。他要他搜集优美的诗歌，和日常的思想行动有密切关系、象德国的老歌谣那样的，例如圣书或印度诗歌中的片段，宗教的或伦理的颂歌，自然界的小景，关于爱情的或天伦的感情，清晨，黄昏与黑夜的诗歌，适合一般淳朴而健全的心灵的东西。每支歌只消四句或六句就行，表情要极朴素，用不着发挥得如何高深，用不着精炼的和声，你们那些冒充风雅的人的卖弄本领对就是没用的。希望你爱我的生命，帮助我爱自己的生命！替我写些《法兰西的祈祷》罢。咱们应当找些明白晓畅的曲调。所谓艺术的语言，我们应当避之唯恐不及，那是象今日多少音乐家的作品一样，变了一个阶级专用的术语。应当有勇气以人的立场而非以艺术家的立场说话。瞧瞧前人的作品罢。十八世纪末期的古典艺术，就是从大众的音乐语言中来的。如格路克，如一般创造交响曲的作者，初期歌谣的作家，他们的乐句和巴赫与拉穆的精炼高深的句子比较起来，有时会显得平淡庸俗。但就是这种本地风光的背景造成了伟大的古典作者的韵味与通俗性。它们是从最简单的音乐形式，从歌谣里来的；这些日常生活里的小小的花朵，深深的印在莫扎特或韦伯的童年的心上。——你们不妨效法他们，写作一些为大众的歌曲。以后你们再创作交响乐。越级有什么用？金字塔不是从顶上造起的。你们现在的交响乐只是一些没有躯干的头颅。噢，美丽的思想，你们得有一个身体啊！必须有几代耐性的音乐家和群众亲近。一个民族的音乐决不是一朝一夕所能建立起来的。 克利斯朵夫不但把他的原则应用于音乐，并且还鼓励奥里维在文学方面实行： “现在的作家，”他说，“努力描写一些绝无仅有的人物，或是在健全的大众以外，只有在不正常的人群中才有的典型。既然他们自愿站在人生的门外，那末你用不着管他们，你自己向着有人类的地方去罢。对普通的人就得表现普通的生活：它比海洋还要深，还要广。我们之中最渺小的人也包藏着无穷的世界。无穷是每个人都有的，只要他甘于老老实实的做一个人，不论是情人，是朋友，是以生儿育女的痛苦换取光荣的妇女，是默默无闻的牺牲自己的人。无穷是生命的洪流，从这个人流到那个人，从那个人流到这个人……你写这些简单的人的简单的生活罢，写这些单调的岁月的平静的史诗罢，一切都那么相同又那么相异，从开天辟地起，一切都是同一母亲的子女。你写得越朴素越好。切勿学现代艺术家的榜样，枉费心力去寻求微妙的境界。你是向大众说话，得运用大众的语言。字眼无所谓雅俗，只有把你的意思说得准确不准确。不论你做什么，得把自己整个儿放在里头：保持你的思想，保持你的感觉。文字应当跟从你心灵的节奏。所谓风格是一个人的灵魂。” 奥里维赞成克利斯朵夫的意见；但他用着怀疑的口气说： “一部这样的作品可能是美的；但它永远到不了那些能够读这等作品的人眼里。批评界在半路上就把它压下去了。” “你老是这套法国小布尔乔亚的说法！”克利斯朵夫回答。“你担心批评界对你的作品作何感想！……告诉你，那些批评家只知道记录成功或失败。你只要成功就行了！……我完全不把他们放在心上！你也得不把他们放在心上……” 但奥里维不放在心上的东西正多着呢！他可以不需要艺术，不需要克利斯朵夫。那时他只想着雅葛丽纳。 他们只知有爱情，不知有其他；这种自私的心理在他们周围造成一平空虚，毫无远见的把将来的退路都给断绝了。 在初婚的醉意中，两颗交融的生命专心一意的只想彼此吸收……肉体与心灵的每个部分都在互相接触，玩味，想彼此参透。仅仅是他们两人就构成了一个没有规则的宇宙，一片混沌的爱，一切交融的成分简直不知道彼此有什么区别，只管很贪馋的你吞我，我吞你。对方身上的一切都使他们销魂荡魄，而所谓对方其实还是自己。世界对他们有什么相干？有如古代的两性人①在和谐美妙的梦里酣睡一般，他们对世界闭着眼睛，整个的世界都在他们身上。 -------------- ①古希腊神话中假想之民族，谓起兼具男女两性。