Chapter 9 Chapter 4-2

Although I haven't heard from her for a long time, I never believe that I have really lost her, and I never believe that she will forget me.I thought to myself: "Sooner or later, she will know that I live a vagabond life. At that time, she will naturally tell me some information, no problem, I will definitely see her again." It was a pleasure to me to walk the streets and the houses where she lived.All this, however, is mere conjecture, for I have a queer folly not to inquire about her, not even to mention her name, unless absolutely necessary.I felt that the mention of her name would reveal my infatuation for her, and my mouth would reveal the secrets of my heart, which would inevitably be against her in some ways.I even feel that there is a certain fear in this thought, that I am afraid that someone will speak ill of her to me.Much has been said about her departure, and a little about her character.Rather than listening to people say things I don't like to hear, I'd rather not talk about anything.

My student doesn’t take up a lot of my time, and her birthplace is not far from Lausanne, but it’s only about four miles away, so I spent two or three days visiting there. A most pleasant mood.The scenery of Lake Geneva and the beauty of its shores have always held in my mind an indescribable special charm, not only because of the beauty of the scenery, but because of something that I can't describe myself, which moved me. , something more meaningful that excites me.Whenever I come to this place of Vauvaux, it arouses many thoughts in me, and makes me think: this is the place where Mrs. Warren was born, this is the place where my father lived, and it is the place where Miss Filson opened my heart. and where I had made many pleasant excursions in my boyhood; besides this, I felt that there was a more mysterious and stronger cause of my emotions than all these.Whenever my ardent desire to enjoy the happy and comfortable life that I was born to enjoy, but which I cannot get when I grow old, arouses my fantasies, my fantasies always linger on this place of Volvo, lingering on this lake. The coast, and the fields with pleasant scenery.I will have an orchard on this lake, and no other; I will have a faithful friend, a lovely wife, a cottage, a cow, and a boat.When I have all these in the future, I will enjoy perfect happiness in this world.How many times have I run to that place just to seek this imaginary happiness, I can't help laughing at the childishness of it myself.What surprised me there was that the character of the inhabitants, especially the women, was completely different from what I had imagined.How disproportionate it seemed to me!I always think that place and its people are extremely inconsistent.

On my way to Forway, I walked slowly along the fair shore, and lost myself in the sweetest melancholy.My passionate heart longs for innumerable simple bliss; with mixed feelings I sigh, and even cry like a little child.How many times have I stopped and cried while sitting on a big rock and watched my tears drip into the water. For two days I lodged at the "Laclay" Hotel in Verway, and for two days I visited no one; I developed an affection for the city, which I could not help yearning for every time I traveled, and which finally led me to put the hero of my novel Schedule it here.I would really like to say to all those who have taste and affection: "Go to Verway, look at that place, enjoy the scenery there, row a boat on the lake, please say to yourselves, nature has created this beautiful place. Is there a place for some Juliet, some Clare, and some Saint-Prell, but don't look for them there." Now let's talk about me.

Since I am a Catholic and I make no secret of it, I follow the rituals of my religion with dignity and peace of mind.Every Sunday, as long as the weather is fine, I go to Assen, about two miles away from Lausanne, to attend mass.I usually run this route with other Catholics, especially a Parisian embroiderer whose name I forget.He is not a Parisian like me, but a true Parisian, a Parisian of the highest order, God-fearing, simple-minded, like a Champagne.He loved his native place too much to suspect that I was not a Parisian, for fear of losing the opportunity to talk about Paris together.The deputy magistrate, Monsieur Curroza, had a gardener who was also a Parisian, but not so friendly, and he thought that a person who did not have the honor of being a Parisian should dare to pretend to be a Parisian.He often questioned me with the air that he was sure he had caught me, and then smiled maliciously.Once he asked me what was the oddity in the new market.I made a lot of nonsense at the time, which is conceivable.Now, I have lived in Paris for 20 years, so I should be familiar with this city, but if someone asks me the same question today, I will still find it difficult to answer as I did back then. It may be presumed that I have never been to Paris, since even in the face of facts people tend to judge things on false principles.

How long I lived in Lausanne, I cannot tell myself.The city did not impress me very much, all I know is that, being unable to support myself, I went to Neuchâtel and spent the winter there.I was relatively successful in this town; there I took several pupils, and my income was sufficient to pay off my debts to my good friend, M. Perrault.Although I owed him a lot of money, he kindly sent me my little luggage after I left. In the process of teaching others music, I also learned music without knowing it.My life is quite comfortable, and a sensible man would be content with that; but my restless mind wanted something else.On Sundays or other free days, I used to go out into the fields and nearby woods, where I kept wandering, meditating, and sighing.As long as you leave the city, it is rare to come back at night.One day I went into a tavern in Boudry to have lunch: I saw a bearded man in a Greek purple dress and a leather cap on his head, which, from his costume and appearance, Come quite noble.But what he said was almost incomprehensible to those around him, for he spoke a rather incomprehensible dialect, which resembled nothing but Italian.But I understood almost everything he said, and I was the only one who understood it.He sometimes had to gesture to shopkeepers and local people.I said a few words to him in Italian, which he understood perfectly.He immediately stood up and walked over to me and hugged me warmly.We quickly became friends, and since then I have been his interpreter.His lunch was a big one, but mine was not worth mentioning.He asked me to dine with him, and I accepted without much ceremony.The two of us talked while drinking, and the more we talked, the more speculative we became. After we finished our meal, we simply didn't want to part.He told me that he was the bishop of the Greek Orthodox Church and the abbot of the Jerusalem monastery; he came to various European countries to collect donations for the restoration of the Holy Sepulcher.He showed me beautiful certificates from the Empress of Russia and the Emperor of Austria, as well as certificates from the sovereigns of many other countries.He was satisfied with his fundraising results, but encountered the greatest difficulty in Germany, because he could not speak a word of German, Latin, or French, so he had to use his own Greek, Turkish, and at the last resort, Frank language, which made him hit a wall everywhere in Germany without getting much.He proposed that I go with him as his secretary and translator.I was wearing a little new purple coat, which suited my new position well enough, but I wasn't very good looking, so he didn't think I was too hard to get.He was not mistaken at all, and the matter was quickly settled.I didn't ask for anything, but he made a lot of promises.With no middleman, no guarantee, let alone an acquaintance, I am willing to let him dominate.The next day, I was on the road to Jerusalem!

Our journey began in canton Freiburg, where he didn't have much to gain.The bishop's position did not permit him to beg, nor to collect from private individuals; we stated his mission to the senate, and the senate gave him only a small sum.We went from Freiburg to Bern. There are many procedures here, and checking his documents is not something that can be completed in a day.We stayed at the "Eagle Hotel", a high-end hotel at that time. People from high society lived here. There were many people eating in the restaurant, and the food was also top-notch.I haven't had a good meal for a long time, and I wish I could nourish my body. Now that I have the opportunity, I want to enjoy it.The bishop himself was a sociable gentleman, with a lively and cheerful disposition, who liked to chat with people at the dinner table, and could talk with relish with those who understood his language.He was very knowledgeable in all aspects, and whenever he showed off his profound Greek knowledge, he was quite fascinating.One day, when he was having snacks after dinner, he picked up a walnut with pliers, and inadvertently pricked his finger into a deep gash, which was bleeding. , signori; gueststoesanguepelago."

At Berne I was of some help to him, and my grades were not as bad as I had feared.I act with a boldness and eloquence which I never had in my own affairs.Things here are not as simple as in Freiburg. Frequent and lengthy discussions with the heads of the state are necessary, and the review of his documents is not a one-day job.Finally, all formalities were done, and the Senate agreed to receive him.I went with him as his interpreter, and I was asked to give a talk.This was quite unexpected, because I never expected that after a long time of talking with the senators individually, I would be speaking in public as if nothing had been said just now.Please think how difficult it must have been for me at that time!For a man as shy as I am, to speak extemporaneously without even a minute of preparation, not only in public, but also in the Senate of Berne, is a terrible thing.However, I didn't feel intimidated at all at the time.I have stated briefly and clearly the mission of the Greek bishop.I commend the piety of the princes who have contributed money.In order to arouse the minds of the people in the home for the elderly not to be left behind, I said that they have always been benevolent, so I expected the same from them, and then I tried to prove that this matter is true for all believers in Christ, regardless of sect. , are all good deeds. At the end, I said, God will definitely bless those who sponsor this kind deed.I cannot say that my speech had any effect, but it was well received, so that after the audience my bishop was rewarded with a large donation, and his secretary was commended for his talents.It was certainly a pleasure for me to translate these praises, but I dared not translate them to him verbatim.It was the only speech, the only bold and beautiful speech I ever gave, in the presence of the highest authority, and in public.The same person, at different times, has such great differences in his talents: three years ago, I went to Yverdon to see my old friend Mr. Roguin, and because I donated some books to the library of the city, the city Send a delegation to thank me.The Swiss are great talkers, and the gentlemen sent me a long list of thanks.I felt compelled to make an answer, but I was so embarrassed that I didn't know what to say.My head was in a mess, and I was so anxious that I couldn't say a word, and I was ashamed as a result.Although I was naturally timid, I was daring a few times when I was young, and never again as an adult.The more social experience I have, the less my manners and speech are adapted to its mood.

We started from Bern to Soler.The bishop plans to return via Germany via Hungary or Poland.It was a long journey, but, as he pocketed more and spent less along the way, he certainly wasn't afraid to take a long detour.And me?I am equally happy on horseback or on foot, and if I could travel like this for a lifetime, it would be my dream.However, fate has already decided that I will not reach that far. The first thing we did when we arrived in Soller was to meet the French ambassador.Unfortunately for my bishop, this ambassador is the Marquis de Baunac, who was ambassador to Turkey, and he must know everything about the Holy Sepulchre.The bishop's audience lasted no more than fifteen minutes, and I was not admitted because the ambassador knew Frankish, and he spoke Italian at least as well as I did.When the Greek came out and I was about to follow him, I was stopped.Now it is my turn to go and see him, and since I call myself a Parisian, I am subject to the authority of your Excellency the Ambassador just like any other Parisian.The ambassador asked me who I was, and urged me to tell him the truth, which I agreed to, but I asked for a private interview, which was granted, and he took me into his study and locked the door.So there I knelt at his feet and fulfilled my promise.Even if I don't make any promises, I won't talk less. For a long time, I have been wanting to pour out my thoughts, so the activity I want to say has long been eager to come out. Now that I have asked the musician Lu Thor has said everything without reservation, and I have no intention of keeping a secret from the Marquis of Bonnac.Satisfied with my short story and the passion with which I spoke, he took me by the hand and entered the room of the ambassador's wife, introduced me to her, and briefly Tell her about me.Madame de Bonnac received me kindly, and said that I should not be allowed to run about with that Greek priest.The decision made at that time was: I will stay in the embassy temporarily until I am settled.I would have liked to say good-bye to the poor bishop--our affection was not bad--but it was not permitted.They informed him of my detention, and fifteen minutes later my little luggage was brought.The secretary of the ambassador, Mr. de la Maltiernier, who seemed to be ordered to take care of me, led me to the room prepared for me and said to me: "At that time, in the asylum of Count de Luc Next, there is a famous person with the same surname as you who lived in this room, you should be able to keep pace with him in all aspects, and one day, when people talk about you, they will be distinguished by Rousseau No. 1 and Rousseau No. 2.” At that time I have no desire to compare myself with the man he said, and if I can foresee how much I will pay for it every day, his words will not tempt me.

These remarks of M. de la Maltiernier aroused my curiosity.I began to read the work of the man who had lived in this room before.As a result of a few compliments from others, I also thought I had a talent for poetry, and as a test, I wrote an ode to Mrs. Bonnack.But the interest didn't last.I also sometimes write mediocre verses, which are a good exercise in fine diction and in prettier prose.But French poetry never had much appeal to me.Enough to make me dedicate myself to it. M. de la Maltiernier was going to have a look at my writing, and asked me to write down the details of what I had said to the ambassador.I wrote him a long letter.I have heard that this letter was later preserved in the hands of M. de Marianne, who had served for a long time under the Marquis de Bonac, and who succeeded La Martini when M. de Courdier was ambassador. Angie's job.I have asked M. de Maleserbes to arrange for me to have a copy of the original letter.If I can get this letter from him or someone else, it will be read in a collection of letters that will be added to my personal volume.

As I gradually gained some experience, romantic thoughts began to diminish.For example, not only did I not fall in love with Mrs. Bonnack, but I immediately felt that I had no future with her husband.M. de la Martinier is the current secretary, and M. Marianne is, so to speak, waiting to fill his vacancy. The best I can hope for is to be an assistant secretary, which does not appeal to me.So, when someone asked me what I would like to do, I said that I really wanted to go to Paris.The ambassador agreed with my wish, because if I left, at least I could get rid of the trouble I caused him.Mr. Mervier, the translation secretary of the embassy, ​​told me that his friend Mr. Gaudel was a Swiss colonel serving in the French army. M. Hilviller thought I was fit.This opinion, which was only made at random, was immediately accepted, and it was decided to let me go; on my part, it was of course a great pleasure to be able to make a trip to Paris.They handed me some letters, a hundred francs for my journey, and a great deal of advice, and I set off.

The trip took about two weeks, and it was the happiest time of my life.I was young, strong, hopeful, and well-moneyed, and I was hiking alone.Those who are not familiar with my character will be surprised to see that I take the latter as a pleasure.My sweet fancies have always been with me, and never have my fiery imagination produced such brilliant fantasies.I would be offended if someone offered me an empty seat in his car, or if someone talked to me on the way and disturbed the castle in the sky I had built on the walk.This time I was thinking about life in the military.I'm going to be attached to a soldier, and I'm going to be a soldier myself, because it's been decided that I'm going to be a midshipman.I think I've got an officer's uniform on, and a nice white plume on my cap.When I think of such a style, my heart is full of joy.I knew a little about geometry and fortification; I had an uncle who was an engineer, so I was somewhat of an officer's family.Although my short-sightedness is a little inconvenient, it does not bother me, and I fully believe that my composure and courage can make up for this defect.I read from a book that Marshal Seinberg's eyes are very short-sighted. Why can't Marshal Rousseau be near-sighted?The more I thought about it, the more excited I became, so that what I saw before my eyes were only troops, fortifications, forts, and artillery, and I was surrounded by artillery fire and gunpowder smoke, holding a telescope and commanding the battle. Call the shots there.However, when I walked to the picturesque fields and saw the woods and streams, the beautiful and moving scenery made me feel melancholy and sighed.Then again, in the midst of my glorious feats, I felt that this destructive disorder was not fit for my heart.So, before I knew it, I was soon back in my lovely pasture, forever cut off from the exploits of Mars. When I approached the suburbs of Paris, what I witnessed was far from what I imagined!The magnificent cityscape, gorgeous streets, and neatly arranged and symmetrical houses I saw in Turin made me think that Paris must have a different flavor.In my imagination, Paris is a beautiful and magnificent metropolis, majestic and majestic, full of bustling streets and resplendent palaces.But when I entered the city from the suburbs of San Marceau, all I saw were rubbish-strewn lanes, ugly and filthy houses, a scene of squalor and poverty, full of beggars, coachmen, seamstresses, and A woman selling herbal teas and old hats.All this gave me such a strong feeling from the first, that all the real splendor I saw in Paris after that could not erase this first impression, and there was always a feeling in me. Secret disgust, unwilling to live in this city for a long time.It can be said that the whole period of my residence hereafter has been used only to find the means of living away from this place.This is the result of an overactive imagination: it exaggerates what is exaggerated, and always sees more than others say.When people boast about Paris to me, I almost imagine it to be Babylon in ancient times--this is the Babylon I have imagined, if I saw the real Babylon.I'm afraid I'll be equally disappointed.I went to the Opera House on the second day in Paris, and I had the same feeling about the Opera House; later, when I visited the Palace of Versailles, I felt the same way;Whenever I see with my own eyes what people have exaggerated for me, I have the same feeling of disappointment: because it is not only human power but nature itself that can make what I see richer than I imagined. It is also very difficult to do. Judging by the way I was treated by the people I visited with letters of recommendation, I thought I must be lucky.The person who received the most earnest letter of recommendation, who gave me the least comfort, was M. Soubek, who, after his retirement, lived a life of ease in Bagnes.I went there several times to see him, and he never offered me a glass of water.Mrs. Mervilier, the younger brother-in-law of the embassy's translation secretary, and his nephew, who was a guard officer, received me more cordially: the mother and son not only received me graciously, but also asked me to have dinner at their home, so I was in the residence. I often bothered them during Paris.Madame de Mervilliers must have been very pretty in those days, I thought, with her beautiful dark hair and the old-fashioned hairpins that hung close to her temples.She has a very endearing talent that doesn't disappear with her beauty.It seemed that she liked my intelligence, and she did everything in her power to help me, but no one supported her. At first people showed interest in me, and I soon woke up from this dream.However, to be fair to the French, they don't make promises like they say, and their promises are almost always sincere, but they often have an attitude of concern for you, which is more important than words. can deceive you.The clumsy compliments of the Swiss can only deceive fools; the reason why the French attitude is more attractive.It's because it's more simple, which often makes you feel that the French don't want to tell you everything they want to do for you, in order to make you have unexpected happiness in the future.I have a further observation: there is nothing hypocritical in their display of affection; they are naturally helpful, gracious and kind, and even, no matter what others say, they are more innocent than any people, but they are somewhat Frivolous and a little fickle.The emotion they show you is the emotion they have inside them, but it comes and goes as fast as it comes.When they interview you, they are enthusiastic about you, but once they leave you, they immediately forget about you.They have nothing on their minds, everything is fleeting. So I have heard many nice words, but not much practical help.I was placed with Colonel Gower's nephew; the Colonel was a nasty old miser, rich though he was, who, seeing my wretched state, wanted to use me for nothing, he wanted to call me Be an unpaid servant to his nephew, not a real mentor.To be his nephew's entourage is of course exempt from military service.But I can only live on midshipman's pay, in other words, on soldier's pay.With great reluctance, he sewed me a uniform, and he asked me to wear the clothes issued to soldiers in the army.Madame Mervilliers, indignant at his terms, persuaded me not to accept them; her son felt the same way.Everyone tried to find another way out for me, but to no avail.My situation was growing a little embarrassing, and my one hundred francs for traveling had been spent all the way, and the rest would not last long.Fortunately, the ambassador sent me a little more money, which helped me a lot. I was thinking that if I had been more patient, he would not have abandoned me.But to fret, to wait, to beg is impossible for me.I was in despair, never showed up again, and that was the end of it.I haven't forgotten my poor mother, but how can I find her?Where can I find her?Mrs. Melville, who knew my experience, asked me for a long time, but to no avail.At last she told me that Mrs. Warren had left more than two months ago, but it was not known whether she had gone to Savoy or Turin; some said she had returned to Switzerland.This information was enough to make me decide to look for her, because I was convinced that, wherever she might be, it would be easier for me to seek her in the provinces than to inquire about her in Paris. Before I set off, I put my new-found poetic genius to good use, and I wrote a verse letter to Colonel Godal, in which I ridiculed him profusely.I showed this game article to Mrs. Mervilliers. She saw my sharp sarcasm, and instead of blaming me, she laughed. Her son probably didn't like Mr. Gaul, so he laughed too; To be honest, this person is really not likable.I was going to send him this verse letter I had written, and they encouraged me to do so, so I sealed the envelope and wrote his address.Since Paris did not accept letters from the city at that time, I put it in my pocket and sent it when I passed Auxerre.To this day, it amuses me to think of the faces he made when he read this eulogy that portrayed him so well.The first two lines of this eulogy are as follows: You old crook, you thought your crazy idea Would make me happy to have your nephew tutored. This little poem, to tell the truth, is not very well written, but it has a taste, and shows my talent for irony; but it is the only satire I have ever written.I am too vindictive to achieve much in this regard.But I think, from the few pen battles I've written in defense of my claims, one can conclude that, if I'm combative by nature, my attackers have little chance of laughing. The biggest regret in my life is that I didn't keep a travel diary, so I can't remember many details in my life today.At no time have I thought so much, lived so meaningfully, felt myself so present, and, if I may say so, manifested so fully who I am as when I was hiking alone.There is something about walking that enlightens and motivates my mind.While I am sitting quietly, I can hardly think, and in order for my mind to be active, my body must be active.The sights of the fields, the succession of beauties, the fresh air, the good appetite and refreshment brought on by the walk, the freedom to dine in the tavern, the freedom from what made me feel dependent: all this liberated me. My heart gives me the courage to think boldly, and it can be said that it throws me into a vast ocean of things, allowing me to organize them boldly, choose them, and occupy them as I like.I rule all nature as master.My heart wanders from one thing to another, and when I meet something that suits my heart, I blend with it and become one. All kinds of moving images surround my heart, making it intoxicated with sweet and comfortable emotions. among.If I have the leisure to paint these fleeting scenes through my imagination, with what vigor, with what vivid hues, and with what vivid language!It is said that all this can be seen in my writings, even though they were written after I was old.It would be great if I could see the works that I thought about and conceived in my travels when I was young but failed to write in the end! ...You will ask me, "Why didn't I write it?" I will say, "Why did I write it? Why should I give up the enjoyment I deserved at the time to tell others? What are the readers, the public, or even the whole world to me when the Knowing in advance what inspirations I will have, when they will come, are entirely in them and not in me, sometimes they don't come at all, sometimes they come in droves, their number and force will completely overwhelm me, write ten times a day I can't finish this book. How can I have time to write this? When I get to a place, all I think about is a good meal. When I start, I just want to have a good journey. I feel that there is a new paradise waiting outside the door Looking at me, I just want to find it. It was only on this journey home, which I am now describing, that I became fully aware of all this for the first time.When I set off for Paris, my thoughts were limited to matters connected with my visit to Paris.I flew to my soon-to-be vocation and did so with considerable pride.But the vocation to which I have turned is not the calling of my heart, and the real character detracts from the imaginary one.How humbled Colonel Gower and his nephew were compared to such heroes as myself.By God's grace, now that I have freed myself from these obstacles, I can once again go as far as I like into the Land of Fantasy, since there is nothing else ahead of me.I wandered in the land of fantasy like this, and I actually took the wrong road several times, but if I didn't go wrong and went straight, I would feel disappointed, because when I felt that I was in Lyon, I was about to go straight. When I returned to reality from my dream, I really wanted to never go to Lyon. Once, I deliberately left the original road in order to get a closer look at a place that seemed to be quite beautiful. I liked this place very much.After walking for several hours, I was so tired, hungry and thirsty that I could hardly bear it, so I went to a farmer's house.The appearance of that farmer's house is not beautiful, but only this family can be seen nearby.I think that here, too, as in Geneva or Switzerland, all the well-to-do farmers live well enough to receive passers-by.I asked the farmer to give me a meal at the price.He brought me skimmed milk and coarse barley bread, which he told me was the only thing he had in the house.I drank such milk with relish, and ate all the bread so that there was not a scrap left, but it was evidently not enough for a weary man.The farmer kept watching me, and saw from my appetite that what I had just said did not seem to be a lie.So he said to me, I am a decent young man, and I will not betray him; after saying this, he looked around, opened a small cellar next to the kitchen, went down, and after a while, he took a The best pure wheat bread, a piece of ham that has been cut but very tasty, and a bottle of wine are back.As soon as I saw this bottle, I thought it was more heart-lifting than anything else.Plus he added a big plate of fried eggs, and I had a good lunch I'd never have had if I hadn't walked.When I paid, he looked uneasily frightened again.He wouldn't take my money, and he was in such a rare panic.What interested me most was that I could not think why he was afraid.Finally, with trepidation, he uttered such terrible words as "tax collector" and "wine rat".He told me that he hid his wine for fear of a surcharge, and his bread for fear of a poll-tax, and that if he showed that he would not die of starvation, he would be done.The things he told me, of which I had not had the slightest conception before, made at once an impression which will never be extinguished.From this time grew in me the sympathy for the suffering of unfortunate peoples, and the irrepressible hatred for their oppressors.It was a rich and well-to-do family, who dared not eat the bread they had earned with their own blood and sweat, and could only keep from bankruptcy by pretending to be as poor as the people around them.I came out of his house with indignation and emotion, and bemoaned the tragic fate of this fertile country, which, with all the bounty of nature, has become the plunder of cruel publicans. Of the incidents that occurred to me on this trip, this is the only one that I still remember vividly.此外，我只记得快到里昂的时候，为了去看看里尼翁河岸，我特意延长了一下我的旅程，因为在我和父亲一起读过的小说中，我始终不曾忘记《阿丝特莱》那部小说，小说里面的故事常常浮现在我的脑际。我打听了去弗雷斯的道路，当我和一个女店主聊天的时候，她告诉我那里是工人谋生的好地方，有不少锻铁扬，生产的铁器很精美。她的这种赞扬给我那充满浪漫色彩的好奇心浇了冷水，我打消了到一个打铁的地方去寻找迪阿娜和西耳芳德尔那类美女和情郎的念头。这个好心女人那样鼓励我，无疑是把我看成一个锁匠铺的学徒了。 我到里昂去并不是无目的的。我一到里昂，立刻就到沙佐特修会去见夏特莱小姐。她是华伦夫人的一位女友；上次，当我和勒·麦特尔先生一起到这里来的时候，我曾受华伦夫人之托，当面转交给她一封信，因此也就算是旧相识了。夏特莱小姐告诉我，她的女友的确曾从里昂经过，但是不知道她是不是一直到皮埃蒙特去了，而且在动身的时候，华伦夫人自己也没有肯定是不是要在萨瓦停留。夏特莱小姐还对我说，如果我愿意的话，她可以替我写信打听，而我最好是在里昂等候消息。我接受了她的这个建议，但是我没敢向夏特莱小姐说我急等回信，也没敢说我钱袋里所剩的一点钱不能容我久待。我所以不敢开口，并不是因为怕她会对我冷淡。相反，她对我是非常亲切的，她完全以平等的态度待我，这使我没有勇气把自己的实际情况告诉她，因为我不愿意使自己由一个很体面的旧相识一降而为可怜的乞丐。 我在这一章里所记述的一切情况，前前后后似乎都记得相当清楚。但是，我又记得，仿佛就在这一段时间，我还到里昂去过一次。我不能确切指出是什么时候，总之，我那时可说是已经到了山穷水尽的地步。有一件十分难以出口的怪事，使我永远也不能忘记那次旅行。一天晚上，我吃过一顿十分简单的晚饭以后，一个人坐在贝勒古尔广场上，心里琢磨着怎样才能摆脱窘况，正在这时候，一个戴无檐帽的男人坐到我的身边，看样子这个人象是丝织业的工人，也就是里昂人所谓织锦缎工人。他向我搭话，我回答了他，我们就这样谈了大约一刻钟，接着他便以同样冷漠和毫无变化的声调向我建议同他一起玩玩。我正等他说明究竟是怎么个玩法时，他却一句话不说地准备先给我做一个示范动作。我们差不多要挨在一起了，黑黯的夜色尚不足以防碍我看见他正在准备干什么。他没有要侵犯我的人身的迹象，起码他没有显示出一点这样的意图，而且这地方对他说来也是不方便的。他的意思完全跟他方才向我说的一样：他玩他的，我玩我的，各人玩各人的。这种事在他看来极其自然，所以他竟认为我一定也跟他一样把这种事看得十分简单。我对他这种丑恶的举动感到非常恐惧，一句话也没说，立刻站起来飞快地跑开了，心里一直害怕这个下流家伙也许要追赶我。我当时简直吓糊涂了，本来应该从圣多明我街回到我的住处，我却向渡口方面跑去，一直跑到木桥那边才停下来，我浑身哆嗦，就象刚刚犯了一桩什么罪似的。我自己本来也有这种恶习，但是有关这事的回忆使我在好长时间里摈弃了这种恶习。 在这次旅行中，我遇到了另一件差不多同样性质而且对我更加危险的怪事。眼看我的钱就要花光了，我就竭力节省剩下的一点儿钱。我先是不象从前那样常在旅店吃饭，不久我就完全不在那里吃了，在小饭铺花五六个苏就能吃一顿，而在旅店得花二十五个苏。既然不在旅店吃饭，我也就不好意思再在那里住宿，这倒不是因为我欠女店主多少债，而是因为我只占一个房间叫女店主赚不了多少钱，心里实在过意不去。这时正是好季节。一天晚上，天气非常热，我决定在外边广场上过夜，我在一张长凳上躺下以后，一个从旁经过的教士看见我这样躺着，就走上前来问我是不是没有住处。我向他说明了我的情况，他显出很同情的样子，便在我的身边坐下来。他说的话我很爱听，所谈的一切使我对他有了一个极好的印象。当他看我已经被他笼络住了以后，就对我说，他的住处并不阔绰，只有一个房间，但他决不肯让我这样睡在露天广场上，他说当晚再给我找住处已经迟了，他愿意把自己的床铺让给我一半。我接受了这种美意，园为我已有心结识他这样一个或许对我有用的朋友。我们一同到了他的住所，他点上了灯。我觉得他的房间虽小，却还整洁，他很有礼貌地招待了我。他从柜子里拿出一个玻璃瓶，里面盛着酒浸的樱桃，我们每人吃了两枚就睡下了。 这个人和我们教养院的那个犹太人有着同样的癖好，不过表现得不那么粗野。也许怕逼得我抵抗起来，因为他知道我一嚷就会让别人听见，也许是他对自己的计划实在没什么把握，他没敢公然向我提出那种要求，于是就在不惊动我的情况下设法挑逗我。由于我这次不象上次那样毫无经验，我立刻明白了他的目的，并且为此而战栗起来；我既不知道住到了什么地方，也不知道我落到了什么人手里，我很怕吵嚷起来会送了命。我装出不懂他对我有什么意图的样子，但同时对他的抚爱表示了极端的厌烦，以至决心不让他的举动再向前发展。我当时处理得很好，使他不得不克制自己一些。那时我尽可能地用最温和和最坚决的话和他谈，不显出对他有任何怀疑的样子，我把过去所遇到的怪事向他讲了，借以说明我方才表现不安的原因。我是用充满厌恶和憎恨的词句同他谈的，我相信我这么一说，他听着也有点噁心，终于不得不完全放弃了他那龌龊的企图。然后我们便平静地过了一夜，他甚至还向我谈了一些有用的和有道理的话。他虽然是个大流氓，但无疑是个聪明人。 早晨，这位教士不愿显出不高兴的样子，提起了吃早饭的事，他请求女房东的一个女儿——一位漂亮的姑娘送点吃的来，她却回他说没有工夫。他又求这个姑娘的姐姐，但她连理都没理。我们一直等着，早饭却不见来。最后我们走进这两位姑娘的房里。她们对这位教士很不客气，至于我，那就更无法自夸受到她们的欢迎了。那位姐姐在转身的时候用她那尖尖的鞋后跟踩了一下我的脚尖——我的这个地方正好长了个非常痛的鸡眼，我曾不得不在鞋头上开了一个洞。另外那个姑娘，在我正要坐下的时候，猛地从后面把椅子抽走了。她们的母亲借着向窗外泼水，将水溅了我一脸。不管我待在什么地方，她们总借口寻找什么叫我躲开，我这一生中也没有遇到过这样的款待。我从她们那轻蔑和嘲弄的目光里看出一种内心的愤怒，而我竟迟钝得一点不了解是怎么回事。我当时又吃惊，又困惑，简直以为她们是魔鬼附了体，开始真的害怕起来。教士却装聋作哑，最后看到没有吃早饭的希望了，便只好走了出去，我也赶紧随着他走出了房间，暗自庆幸离开了那三个泼妇。走在路上的时候，教士曾向我提议到咖啡馆去吃早点，我虽然肚子很饿，却没接受他的邀请，但他也没坚持。我们拐了三四个弯后就分手了，我很高兴再也看不到和那个可诅咒的房子有关的一切东西；而他呢，我想，望着我离开那所房子已经相当远，不易再把它认出来，一定也非常高兴。在巴黎或在其他任何城市，我从未遇到过和这两件怪事相类似的事情；由于这种经历，里昂人没有给我留下好印象，我始终把里昂看成是欧洲城市中淫乱之风最盛的城市。 我所陷入的困境，也不能引起我对这个城市有好的回忆。如果我也象别人那样，有在旅店中赊欠和负债的本领，我也能毫不费力地摆脱窘境；但是这种事，我既做不来也不愿意做。要想知道这种情况达到什么程度，只要说明这样一件事就够了：我虽然差不多过了一辈子穷日子，甚至时常吃不上饭，但我没有一次不是只要债主向我要账，我立刻就还他的。我从来没欠过受到催索的债，我宁肯自己受点罪也不愿欠人家钱。 穷困到在大街上过夜，当然是够受罪的，这样的事我在里昂经历了很多次。我宁肯不住旅店也要留下一点钱买面包吃，因为无论如何困死的危险总比饿死的危险小。令人惊奇的是：在这样悲惨的境遇里，我既不着急，也不发愁，对于未来没有丝毫的忧虑，一心等待着夏特莱小姐的回音。我在露天下过夜，躺在地上或一条长凳上同躺在温暖舒适的床上睡得一样安静。我记得有一次是在城外，不知是在罗尼河畔还是在索纳河畔的一条蜿蜒曲折的小路上过了一个十分愉快的夜晚。对岸的那条路沿途都是一些垒成高台的小花园。那一天白昼非常热，傍晚的景色却令人陶醉：露水滋润着萎靡的花草，没有风，四周异常宁静，空气凉爽宜人；日落之际，天空一片深红色的云霄，映照在水面上，把河水染成了蔷薇色；高台那边的树上，夜莺成群，它们的歌声此呼彼应。我在那里漫步，恍若置身仙境，听凭我的感官和心灵尽情享受；使我稍感遗憾的是我一个人独享其乐。我沉浸在甜蜜的梦幻中，一直走到深夜也不知疲倦。但是最后还是感到疲倦了。我舒舒服服地在高台花园的一个壁龛（那里也许是凹入高台围墙里面的一个假门）的石板上睡下了。浓密的树梢构成了我的床帐，我上面正好有只夜莺，我随着它的歌声进入了梦乡。我睡得很甜，醒来时更觉舒畅。天大亮了，睁眼一看，河水、草木尽在目前，真是一片美妙的景色。我站立起来，抖了抖衣服，觉得有点饿了，我愉快地向市内走去，决心用我剩下的两个小银币好好地吃一顿早饭。我的情绪非常好，唱了一路，我现在还记得我唱的是巴迪斯坦的一个小曲，歌名叫《托梅利的温泉》，那时我会背诵这支歌的全部歌词。应该好好感谢好心的巴迪斯坦和他那首优美的小曲，他不仅使我吃到了比我原来打算吃的还要好的一顿早饭，而且还使我吃了一顿我丝毫没有料到的精美的午饭。在我得意洋洋边走边唱的时候，我听见身后好象有人，回头一看，只见一位安多尼会的教士跟着我，看来他不无兴趣地在听我唱歌。他走到我跟前，向我问了好，接着就问我会不会音乐，我回答说：“会一点”，言外之意是“会不少”。他继续询问我，我便向他叙述了我一部分经历。他问我是否抄过乐谱。我对他说：“经常抄”。这也是实话，我学音乐最好的方法就是抄乐谱。于是他对我说：“好吧，你跟我来，我给你找几天活儿干，只要你答应我不出屋子，这几天你什么也不会缺。”我非常高兴，就跟他去了。 这位安多尼会的教士名叫罗里松，他很喜好音乐，自己也懂音乐，并且常常在和朋友们举办的音乐会上演唱。这里面本来没有什么不好或不正当的东西，但是，他这种爱好显然已发展成为一种狂热的怪癖，使他不能不稍加隐匿。他把我领到一间要我抄乐谱的小屋里去，我在这里看到他已抄好的许多乐谱。他叫我抄的是另一些乐谱，特别是我刚才唱的那段歌曲，因为过几天，他自己要演唱这一段。我在那里住了三四天，除了吃饭的时间外，我一个劲地抄下去。我一生从来没有这样感到饥饿，也从来没有吃得这样香。他亲自从他们的厨房把我的饭取来；如果他们平时吃的就是我现在吃的这样，他们的伙食一定是很好的。我一生对吃饭从不曾感到过这么大的乐趣，但也应该承认，这种免费饭食来得正巧，因为我已经饿得骨瘦如柴了。说我干活差不多也和吃饭一样地实心实意，这话也许有点儿夸张。其实，我是勤劳有余，而心细不足。过了几天，罗里松先生在街上遇到我的时候对我说，我抄的乐谱害得他不能演唱，其中遗漏、重复、颠倒的地方太多了。应该承认，我选择的这个抄写乐谱的职业，对我是最不合适的。这不是因为我抄的音符不好看，也不是因为我抄得不清楚，而是因为我对长时间工作的厌烦使我的思想不能集中，甚至我用小刀刮的时间比我用笔写的时间还要多，如果不用最大的注意力看准每个音符仔细照抄的话，抄下来的乐谱当然是不能演奏的。那一次我本想抄得漂漂亮亮，结果却抄得十分坏，本想快点抄，结果抄得乱七八糟。尽管如此，直到最后罗里松先生对我还是很好，在我离开他那里的时候，还给了我一个实在受之有愧的埃居。这个银币又使我重新振作起来了。几天以后，我得到了妈妈的消息，她正在尚贝里；同时我还收到了上她那里去的一笔路费，这时我高兴极了。从那以后，我虽然还是时常感到缺钱，但是总也没有到饿肚子的地步。我以感激的心情把这段时期列为上帝特别保祐我的时期，这是我一生中最后一次的受穷挨饿。 我在里昂又住了一个多星期，等候着夏特莱小姐把妈妈托办的几件事办完。在这期间，我去见夏特莱小姐的时间比以前多了，因为我喜欢和她谈她的女友，而且现在和她谈话，由于不再担心暴露自己的境遇，说话也就不必再象以前那样遮遮掩掩了。夏特莱小姐既不年轻，也不漂亮，但她却有不少令人喜欢的地方；她和蔼可亲，而她的聪明更给这种亲切增加了光彩。她喜欢观察一个人的精神方面，喜欢研究人；我所以也有这种爱好，最初就是受她的影响。她爱读勒萨日的小说，特别喜欢他所写的《吉尔·布拉斯》；她和我谈过这部小说，并借给我读过。我兴致勃勃地读完了这本书，但是那时候，我读这类作品还不够成熟，我所需要的是描写炽烈情感的小说。这样我就在夏特莱小姐的会客室里既快活又受益地消磨了我的时间；毫无疑问，和一位有知识的女人进行有趣味的和充满智慧的谈话，比书本中任何迂腐的大道理更能给青年人以方向。我在沙佐待修会结识了其他几位寄宿的修女和她们的女友；其中有一位名叫赛尔小姐的十四岁的少女，我当时对她并没有特别注意，但是八九年以后我却狂热地爱上了她，这也毫不奇怪，因为她确实是一个可爱的姑娘。 不久就要见到我那可爱的妈妈了，我热烈地期待着这一天的到来，这时我的幻想暂时转入休眠状态；实际的幸福既然就在眼前，我也就不必再在胡思乱想中去追求幸福了。我不仅就要再次和她相会，而且由她给我就近找一个惬意的职业。她在信中提到，她为我找到了一个工作，她希望这个工作会对我合适，而且可以使我不离开她。我曾挖空心思猜测究竟是个怎样的工作，但实际上也只能是猜猜而已。我有了足够的旅费，可以舒舒服服地走完这段路程。夏特莱小姐希望我骑马去，我拒绝了，这是对的，我如果骑马，那就失去了我一生中最后一次徒步旅行的快乐了。我住在莫蒂埃的时候，我虽然常去附近一带地方走走，但我不能把这种走动称之为徒步旅行。 真奇怪，我的幻想只是在我的境遇最不顺利的时候才最惬意地出现在我的脑际，当我周围的一切都是喜气洋洋的时候，反而不那么饶有趣味了。我这执拗的头脑不能适应现实事物。它不满足于只美化现实，它还想到要创造现实。现实中的事物充其量不过是按原来的样子展现在我的头脑中；而我的头脑却善于装饰想象中的事物。我必须在冬天才能描绘春天，必须蛰居在自己的斗室中才能描绘美丽的风景。我曾说过多次，如果我被监禁在巴士底监狱，我一定会绘出一幅自由之图。我从里昂动身的时候，我只看到令人惬意的未来。我在离开巴黎的当时心里是多么不快，现在心里又是多么高兴啊！而这种高兴完全是有理由的。然而，我在这欢旅行中却丝毫没有上次旅行中的那种甜蜜美妙的幻想。这一次，我的心情确实轻松愉快，然而也只此罢了。我以激动的心情，一步一步地接近了我又要见到的最好的女友。我预先就享受到生活在她身边的快乐了，但是，我并不感到陶醉，这种快乐一直在我意料之中，所以一旦到来，并无任何新奇之感。我为我将去做的工作感到不安，就好象那是一件值得十分忧虑的事情一样。我的思想是恬静和甜蜜的，但并不是虚幻缥缈、美妙诱人的。我在一路上所见到的东西样样都能引我注目，所有的景色都使我神往。我留意着树木、房屋、溪流；到了十字路口时，我反复寻思应走的方向，唯恐迷了路，可是我一点也没有迷路。总之，我已不象上次那样，心在九霄云外：我的心有时在我所到的地方，有时在我所要去的地方，没有一刻离开现实。 叙述自己的旅行正如同在旅行中一样，我不急于结束它。在快到我那可爱的妈妈身边的时候，我的心高兴得直跳，但是我没有因此而加快步伐。我喜欢从容不迫地走路，想停就停。飘泊的生活正是我需要的生活。在天朗气清的日子里，不慌不忙地在景色宜人的地方信步而行，最后以一件称心的事情结束我的路程，这是各种生活方式中最合我口味的生活方式。另外，大家也知道什么样的地方才是我所说的景色宜人的地方。一个平原，不管那儿多么美丽，在我看来决不是美丽的地方。我所需要的是激流、峰岩、苍翠的松杉、幽暗的树林、高山、崎岖的山路以及在我两侧使我感到胆战心惊的深谷。这次我获得了这种快乐，而且在我走近尚贝里的时候，纵情享受了这种迷人的风光。在厄歇勒峡的峭壁悬崖附近的一处名叫夏耶的地方，在山崖中凿成的一条大路下面，有一道涧水在骇人的深谷中滚滚流过，它好象是经过了千万年的努力，才为自己开辟了这条通道。为了防止发生不幸事件，人们在路旁架上了栏杆。正是由于有了这道栏杆，我才敢尽情地往下看，以致看得我头晕目眩。在我对于峭壁陡崖的爱好中，我觉得最有意思的就是这种可以使我头晕目眩的地方，只要我处在安全地带，我是非常喜欢这种晕眩的。我紧紧地伏在栏杆上俯身下望，就这样站了好几个钟头，不时地望着蓝色的涧水和水中激起的泡沫，听着那汹涌澎湃的激流的吼叫声，在我脚下一百土瓦兹的地方，在山岩树丛之间，乌鸦和鸷鸟飞来飞去，它们的啼叫声和水流声相互交织在一起。我走到比较平坦、树丛也不太密的地方，找了一些我能搬得动的大石块，把它们放在栏杆上，然后一块一块地推下去，我望着它们滚动着、蹦跳着落到了谷底，碰碎的无数石片到处乱飞，心里非常快活。 在离尚贝里更近的地方，我见到了与此不同而一样有趣的奇景。这条路经过我一生所见到的最美丽的一条瀑布脚下，由于山势非常陡峭，急流夺道而出，落下时形成弓形，足够让人从岩石和瀑布之间走过，有时身上还可以不被沾湿。然而，如果不注意，是很容易上当的，我那次就上了当：因为水从极高的地方流下，散成濛濛细雨，如果离得太近，最初还不觉得自己被淋湿，可是不多久就会发现全身已经湿透了。 我终于到达了目的地，又见到了她。那天她并不是独自一人。我进门的时候，宫廷事务总管正在她那里。她一句话也没说，就拉着我的手，以她那种叫任何人都倾心的亲切姿态向总管介绍说：“先生，这就是我向您说过的那个可怜的年轻人，请您多加关照吧，他值得您关照多久就关照他多久，这样，我以后就不用为他操心了。”然后她又向我说：“我的孩子，今后你是国王的人了，感谢总管先生吧，他给你找到了饭碗。”我当时目瞪口呆，一句话也说不出来，不知道怎么想才好。我那新生的功名心几乎使得我晕头转向，使我觉得自己已经成了国王的小事务官了。我的幸运虽然不如起初所想象的那样了不起；但就当时而论，这也足够生活了，而对我说来这已经是很不简单的。Here's the thing: 维克多－亚梅德王考虑到历次战争的结果，以及所承继的老祖产早晚有一天要落到别人手里，便一心只想找机会搜刮钱财。几年以前，国王决定贵族也要纳税，通令全国进行一次土地登记，因为按不动产来课税，可以把税额分摊得更公平些。这项工作开始于老王时代，到太子继位以后才完成。这项工作中用了二三百人，有不知为何称作几何学家的测量员，也有称作文书的登记员，妈妈就在文书的名义中给我找到了一个位置。这个位置收入虽不多，然而在那个国家里足可以生活得宽裕些。遗憾的是，这只是临时工作，不过通过它可以再找别的工作，可以等待；妈妈是个有远见的人，她尽力求总管对我特别关照，以便这项工作结束后给我找一个更牢靠的职位。 我来这里以后不几天就到差了。这项工作没有一点困难，我很快就熟悉了。就这样，自我离开日内瓦，经过四五年的奔波、荒唐和痛苦以后，我第一次冠冕堂皇地开始自己挣饭吃了。 我所写的关于我刚踏入青年时代的生活细节的长篇叙述，一定让人看了觉得非常幼稚，我对此深感遗憾。虽然在某些方面，我生来象个大人，但在相当长的时期我始终还是个孩子；就是现在，我在很多方面还象个孩子。我没向读者保证介绍一个大人物，我保证的是按我本来的面貌叙述我自己。再说，要了解我成年以后的情况就必须先了解我的青年时代。由于在一般情形下，各种事物当时给我的感受，总不如事后给我留下的印象那样深刻，又由于我的一切观念都是一些形象，因此，留在我头脑中的最初那些形象便一直保存着，以后印入我头脑中的形象，与其说是遮盖了原来的形象，不如说是和原来的形象交融在一起。我的感情和思想有某种连续性，以前的思想感情可以影响以后的思想感情，所以要很正确地评判后者，就必须了解前者。我处处在竭力阐述最初的原因，以此来说明所产生的后果。我希望能把我的心赤裸裸地摆在读者面前，为此，我要从各种角度来叙述，用事实真相来说明，以便使读者对我的心情的每一动荡都不漏过，使读者自己去判断引起这些动荡的始因。 如果我给自己做结论，并向读者说：“我的性格就是这样！”读者会认为，我虽不是在进行欺骗，至少是自己把结论下错了。但是我老老实实地详细叙述我所遇到的一切、所做过的一切、所想过的一切以及所感觉到的一切，这样就不会使读者误解，除非我有意这样做；而且，纵然我有意这样做，也不容易达到目的。把各种因素集拢起来，确定这些因素所构成的人是什么样的人，这都是读者的事情：结论应该由读者去做。这样，如果读者下错了结论，一切错误都由他自己负责。可是要做出正确的结论，仅只忠实的叙述还是不够的，我的叙述还必须是详尽的。判定哪件事重要或不重要，那不是我的事，我的责任是把所有的事都说出来，交由读者自己去选择。直到现在，我都是鼓足勇气，全力以赴，今后我还要坚持不懈地这样做下去。but.对成年时代的回忆，无论如何，是不如对青年时代的回忆那样鲜明的。所以我开始时尽可能地利用我对青年时代的一些回忆。如果我的成年时代的回忆也是那样鲜明地浮现在脑际的话，不耐烦的读者也许会感到厌倦，但我自己是不会不满意的。我唯一担心的，不是怕说得太多或扯了谎，而是怕没有说出全部真相。