Chapter 17 Chapter 9 Gokon's Head

The Marquis's manor was a majestic building with a huge stone courtyard in front of it.The two stone steps on the left and right of the gate meet on the platform in front of the gate. This is a world of masonry.The huge stone steps, the ear vases carved in all directions, the flowers carved in stone, the human face carved in stone, and the lion's head carved in stone, seem to have been glanced at by Guogang's head when it was just completed two hundred years ago. The Marquis got out of the carriage and was led by the torchbearer up a wide and shallow stone steps. The sound of his footsteps was just enough to wake up the owl on the roof of the stable in the forest in the distance and make it protest loudly, but everything else was quiet.The torches blazed on the steps and in front of the gate, as if in a closed hall rather than out in the night sky.Apart from the cries of the owls, there was only the rustling of the fountain splashing into the stone basin; for it was a night that held its breath for hours on end, and then let out a long low sigh, and then held its breath again.

The heavy door slammed shut behind him, and Lord Marquis walked into a gloomy hall.There were boar spears for hunting, long swords and knives, riding whips and clubs.These things are more sinister, and some peasants, because they offended the master, had learned their weight, and some simply went to death, the benefactor who relieved the pain. The Marquis avoided the large room that had been closed for the night, and was guided by the torchbearer up the stone steps to a door in the corridor.The door opened and he entered his room.It was a three-room house, one bedroom, two bedrooms, with high arches and cold uncarpeted floors.There was a loggia for the winter wood on the fireplace, and all the luxuries befitting a marquis in a luxurious country in a luxurious age.The style of King Louis of the previous generation, Louis XIV of the eternal royal line, is evident in these magnificent furniture.There are also many examples in it, reflecting some other ancient chapters in the history of France.

In the third room a dinner for two was laid out.The manor house has a domed watchtower, and this room juts out of the watchtower, not very big, but with a high ceiling, the windows open and the wooden shutters closed, so that the dark night is only expressed in light black horizontal stripes on a broad stone background . "My nephew," said the Marquis, glancing at the dinner set, "they say he hasn't arrived yet." He did not come, but the Marquis was waiting to meet him. "Ah! He may not be here to-night, but supper is kept as such. I'll be there in a quarter of an hour."

After a quarter of an hour, everything was ready, and the Marquis sat down at the luxurious and exquisite dinner table alone.His chair was turned away from the window.He had already had his soup, and started to drink a glass of Bordeaux normally, but put it down again. "What's that?" he asked calmly, looking carefully at the black streaks that lined the back of the stone wall. "Is that so, my lord?" "Outside the shutters. Open the shutters." The shutters are open. "How about it?" "My lord, there is nothing? There are only trees and night outside the window."

The speaking servant has opened the shutters, looks through the night of nothingness, and stands with his back to the void, waiting for instructions. "Come on," said the impassive master, "close it!" The shutters were drawn, and the Marquis resumed his supper.Halfway through eating, I stopped again with a cup in my hand.He heard the sound of wheels.The sound of the car came briskly to the front of the manor. "Go and ask who's here." He is the nephew of the Marquis.In the afternoon, he was a few leagues behind the Marquis, but quickly shortened the distance, but he did not catch up with the Marquis on the road, and only heard that he was ahead of him at the post station.

The Marquis ordered to tell him that supper was waiting, and begged him to come at once.He will be here shortly.We had known him long ago in England as Charles Darnay. The Marquis received him politely, but they did not shake hands. "You left Paris yesterday, sir?" he said to his lordship, taking his seat. "Yesterday. What about you?" "I came directly." "From London?" "yes." "It took a lot of time," said the Marquis, smiling. "Not much, I came directly." "Sorry! I don't mean it took a lot of time on the road, but it took a lot of time to decide to come."

"I was—" the nephew paused for a while when he answered, "a lot of things are delayed." "Of course," replied the mild-mannered uncle. With a servant by their side, the two didn't talk much.After the coffee was served and only the two of them were left, the nephew glanced at his uncle, met the eyes of that delicate mask-like face, and started talking. "I have come back as you wished, after the same object that caused me to leave. That object involved me in great and unexpected danger, but my object is sacred, and if I were to die for it, I would die without complaint."

"Don't talk about death," said the uncle, "you don't need to talk about death." "I doubt, sir," replied the nephew, "that you would stop it, even if it brought me to the brink of death." The dimple on the nose had deepened, and the thin straight lines on Cruel's face had lengthened, suggesting that the nephew was thinking right.Uncle made an elegant gesture of protest.The gesture was so obviously a slight sign of good breeding that it was not believable. "As a matter of fact, sir," continued the nephew, "from what I know, you have intended to make my already dubious situation even more dubious."

"No, no, no," said my uncle cheerfully. "However, no matter what my situation is," the nephew glanced at him suspiciously, and continued, "I know that your diplomatic strategy will allow Xio to stop me, and you will not hesitate to use any means." "I told you that, my friend," said the uncle, and the nostrils moved slightly. "Give me one request, please: Reminisce. I told you that a long time ago." "I can recall." "Thank you," said the Marquis--very sweetly. His tone echoed through the air, almost like the sound of an instrument.

"As a matter of fact, sir," continued the nephew, "I believe it was your misfortune and mine that kept me from being thrown into prison in France." "I don't quite understand," said the uncle, sipping his coffee. "Can you please explain?" "I believe that if you had not fallen out of favor at the court, and had not been under the shadow of the cloud many years ago, you might have sent me to a fortress with a blank arrest warrant to imprison me indefinitely." "It's possible," said the uncle very calmly, "for the honor of the family, I might make up my mind to interfere with you to that extent. Please forgive me."

"I was very pleased to find that the official audience the day before yesterday was still—as always, indifferent," said the nephew. "If I were not happy, my friend," said the uncle politely, "I would not be so sure that giving you a good chance to think in solitude would do more to your fate than letting you go your own way." Much better. But it is useless to discuss the matter. As you say, I am not in a good position. Such means of prompting people to correct wrongs, such mild measures for the power and honor of the family, such The little gift that can interfere with you like this now depends on the interest of the superiors, and you have to ask repeatedly to get it. Because there are many people asking for it, and few people get it! It was not like this before, and France is very good at this kind of problem. The world is in decline. Not so long ago, our ancestors exercised power over the untouchables around them. Many dogs like this were taken out of this room to be hanged, and in the next room (my present one) bedroom), as far as we know, a fellow was killed with a dagger for displaying some presumptuous sensitivity to his daughter—was the daughter his? We've lost many privileges; a A new philosophy is in fashion; to re-emphasize our position at the moment could get us into real trouble - I'm only saying 'maybe', not 'probably'. It's all a shame, a shame! " The Marquis sniffed a pinch of snuff, shook his head, and gracefully expressed his disappointment, as if Bihao still had him in this country, but he was a great figure who could revive his country. "We have, and have, stressed enough our place," said the nephew gloomily. "I believe our family is hated in France." "I hope so," said my uncle, "the hatred of the high is the unconscious reverence of the humble." "In the surrounding countryside," said the nephew in the same tone as before, "I do not see a face that pays me respect, but only a sullen obedience to terror and slavery." "That's the admiration for the power of the family," said the Marquis, "the admiration due to the way the family maintains it, ha!" He took another pinch of snuff, resting one leg lightly on the other. superior. But when his nephew leaned on one elbow on the table and shaded his eyes with his hands in thoughtful despondency, the delicate mask slanted with an expression very different from the indifference it assumed. He glanced at him, and the eyes were full of tension, predation and hatred. "Suppression is the only philosophy that endures. Terror and servitude make a sullen respect, my friend," said the Marquis, "and a dog can be made to obey the whip—so long as the roof can hide the sky." He looked Looking at the roof. The roof may not be able to cover the sky for as long as the Marquis imagined.If the Marquis could have seen that manor and fifty other similar manors in a few years later that night, it would be hard for him to imagine that the looted and charred ruins would be his manor today.As for the roof he has just boasted about, he may find that it will shade the sky in another way--that is, by turning the roof into buckshot, shot from the barrels of a hundred thousand muskets, and closing eyes to the sky forever . "Besides," said the Marquis, "if you put the family's honor and peace at risk, I will have to work hard to maintain it. But you must be very tired. Is this the end of tonight's negotiations?" "Let's talk for a while!" "An hour, if you please." "Sir," said the nephew, "we have made mistakes and are reaping the consequences." "Did we make a mistake?" repeated the Marquis, pointing gracefully at his nephew and at himself with a questioning smile. "Our family, our proud family. We both value its honor, but have very different attitudes. In my father's day, we made countless mistakes. Whoever, whoever For whatever reason, as long as we go against our wishes, we will be hurt. Why should I say my father's time, isn't that also your time? I can put my father's twin brother, co-heir, and current heir with him Do you separate yourself?" "Death has parted us!" said the Marquis. "And left me," replied the nephew, "to bind me to a system which I consider terrible, to which I am responsible, and for which I am powerless. To carry out the last demand of my dear mother's lips. , to obey my dear mother’s last wish, asking me to have mercy and to make amends, but it also left me without support and strength, and was tortured.” "If you want to find support and strength here, nephew," the Marquis touched his chest with his forefinger-they were standing in front of the fireplace at this time, "you will never be able to do it, you must understand." Every thin, straight line on his fair face was drawn cruelly, slyly, and tightly together.He stood silent, looking at his nephew, with a snuff-box in his hand.He tapped his nephew's chest again, as if his fingertips were the point of a dagger with which he was deftly piercing his nephew's body.He said: "My friends, I would rather die for the perpetuation of the system I live in." With that he took a last pinch of snuff and stuffed the snuffbox into his pocket. "Better to be sensible," he added, pressing a little bell on the table, "accept your natural lot! But you are hopeless, Mr. Charles, I know." "I have lost the estate and France," said the nephew sadly, "and I have given them up." "The property and France are yours, and why do you give them up? France may be yours. But is the property yours too? It is hardly a matter of mention; is it yours now?" "I didn't mean to make a request. But tomorrow it will be inherited by me-" "I would venture to think that it might not be possible." "—Twenty years from now—" "You have done me a great honor," said the Marquis, "but I still stand by my assumption." "—I would give up my property, and go elsewhere and live by other means. I have so little to give up, and what is there but a wilderness of misery and ruin?" "Ah!" said the Marquis, looking around the luxurious house. "The house looks pretty, but in broad daylight it's nothing more than a ramshackle edifice. There's only waste, tyranny, extortion, debt, mortgages, oppression, hunger, nakedness, and pain." "Ah!" repeated the Marquis, seemingly satisfied. "Even if it could be mine, it must (if it is even possible) be placed in the hands of someone more qualified to liberate it, to gradually free it from its oppressive weight, to make it impossible to live without it The next generation of the sufferer who opened it will suffer less. But it has nothing to do with me, the wrath of God has fallen on this property, and on this whole country." "What about you?" said the uncle, "forgive me for my curiosity. According to your new philosophy, do you intend to live?" "In order to survive, I will have to work to support myself like my countrymen - and my fellow noblemen will someday do the same." "Like, in England?" "Yes, I will not tarnish my family's honor in this country, and I will not tarnish my family's surname in other countries, because I do not use it abroad." The ringing of the bell just now had ordered the lights in the next room to be lit.Now the light has shone in through the connecting door.The Marquis looked over there, and heard footsteps of servants leaving. "England appeals to you, judging from your troubled times," he said, turning his serene face to his nephew, and smiling. "I have already said that I have realized that all the ups and downs I have over there are clearly given by you. As for other things, it is my refuge." "Those boastful Englishmen say it's a refuge for many. Do you know a doctor? A fellow Frenchman who also took refuge there?" "know." "With a daughter?" "yes." "Yes," said the Marquis. "You're tired. Good night!" There was something secret about his smiling face when he nodded in the most polite gesture, and he gave his words a certain air of mystery that fell clearly on his nephew's ears. In, in the eyes.At the same time, the fine straight lines around his eyes and the dimples on his nose were also curved ironically, making him look a little devilishly beautiful. "Yes," repeated the Marquis. "A doctor, and a daughter. Yes, a new philosophy begins like this! You are tired, good night!" If you want to find out the answer from his face, you might as well ask the stone head in the manor.The nephew looked at him as he walked towards the door, but couldn't see anything. "Good night!" said the uncle. "I look forward to seeing you again in the morning. Rest well! Take my nephew to his room yonder with a torch!—burn my nephew, sir, on his bed, if you will." He said He added a sentence to himself, then rang the small bell, and summoned the servant to his room. The waiter came and went.His Excellency the Marquis put on a loose nightgown, paced up and down the room, peacefully preparing for sleep in that calm and sultry night.His feet in soft slippers stepped on the ground quietly, like a graceful tiger—as if the persevering Marquis in the story had been enchanted to change at regular intervals, or had just changed from a tiger to a man, or Soon to be a tiger. As he paced up and down his luxurious bedroom, scenes from his day's travels crept into his mind.The slow and laborious uphill road at dusk, the sun at sunset, the sunset, the windmill, the prison on the top of the cliff, the small village in the valley, the peasants by the spring, and the road mender with his blue hat pointing to the chain under the car.The spring was reminiscent of those in Paris, the cloth wraps lying on the steps, the women bent over it, and the tall man with his hands up and shouting "Dead!" "It's cool now," said His Excellency the Marquis, "you can go to sleep." So, he put down the spun bed curtains around him, settled down and fell asleep.Then he heard the night sigh, breaking the silence. The stone face on the outer wall stared blankly into the night for three heavy hours.The horses in the stables rattled against the troughs for three heavy hours.The barking of dogs, the hooting of owls.The owl's cry is very different from the traditional one prescribed by poets, but this animal has a stubborn habit of refusing to speak according to other people's rules. The stone faces (lion faces, human faces) of the manor stared blankly into the night for three heavy hours.A dead darkness envelops everything; a dead darkness makes the dead dust of the road still more dead, and the grass in the graveyard is so sad that the poor patches of turf are indistinguishable from each other.Jesus on the cross could walk down anything he saw.Everyone in the village (tax collectors and tax payers) fell asleep.The emaciated villager may have dreamed of the feast that the hungry dream of, or of the relief and rest that the driven slave and the oxen dreamed of.In short, I slept soundly, ate well in my dreams, and was free. In the village, the springs rushing, neither seen nor heard; in the manor, the fountains splashing, neither seen nor heard; , sprayed for three dark hours.Then the gray water of both shone ghostly in the morning light, and the stone faces of the manor opened their eyes. The dawn was getting brighter, and the sun finally touched the calm treetops and poured its light on the mountains.In the morning glow, the fountain in the manor seemed to turn into blood, and the face of the stone statue was dyed scarlet.The birds sang happily and made a loud noise.On the lattice of the great weather-beaten window of the Marquis' bedroom a little bird was singing the sweetest song with all its might.The stone statue closest to the window seemed stunned to hear it, opened its mouth wide, lowered its chin, trembling with fear. At this moment, the sun rose, and there was a sound in the village.The windows were thrown open, as were the rickety doors, and people came out shivering—they were shivering with the fresh, crisp air.And so the day's labor, which never abates, began again.Some went to the springs, others to the fields.Men and women, some digging here, some tending the poor cattle there, leading the lean cows to the meadows that could be found by the roadside.In the church, there were one or two kneeling figures before the cross; the cows that were led out at the same time as they began to pray barely ate the weeds at their feet for breakfast. The manor wakes up later, which is commensurate with its status, but it is obviously gradually waking up.The boar spears and hunting knives of the first cold hunt were glowing red as usual, and then shining clearly in the morning light; the doors and windows were thrown open, and the horses in the stable looked back at the light and freshness that poured in through the door.The green leaves shone and rustled on the iron grille.The dog tugged at the chain and stood up impatiently, wanting to be free. All these trivial activities are the routine of life when the morning light returns.But the big clock of the manor rang, people stepped up and down the steps, and figures flickered, and then the sound of chaotic footsteps resounded everywhere, and the horses hurriedly saddled and left.Is all this a routine of life? What wind made the grey-haired mender of roads hurry?He had started working on the top of the slope outside the village, his meager lunch bag on a pile of stones that even the cows would not touch.Had the bird carried his lunch afar, and dropped it on his head like a seed by chance?In short, he ran as if for his life down the hill that hot morning, kicking up dust up to his knees, and didn't stop until he came to the spring. All the people of the village stood despondently by the spring, talking quietly, expressing no emotion but worried curiosity and astonishment.The hastily brought and tied cows stared foolishly, or lay chewing their cud, chewing the unpalatable things that had gnawed into their mouths when they were stopped from roaming.Some people from the manor, some people from the inn, and all the tax collectors were more or less armed and crowded aimlessly on the other side of the side street. They were very nervous, but they were all idle.The mender of roads had squeezed himself into a group of fifty exceptionally good friends, beating himself across the chest with his blue cap.What does all this portend?At this time, Mr. Garber hurried on the horse behind a servant who was already on the horse. Although the horse had a double burden, it also galloped away quickly, like another version of the German folk song Leonora.What does this indicate? This shows that there is an extra stone-carved human face in the manor. Guogang took another look at the building at night and added this stone face to it; the building had been waiting for it for about two hundred years. The stone face rested on the Marquis's pillow and grew on the Marquis like a delicate mask, which suddenly became frightened, lost its temper, and became a stone sculpture.A knife was deeply inserted into the heart of the stone statue, and a note was hung on the handle, with a line scrawled on it: "Urge him to his grave early. Jacques presents."