Chapter 8 2

When it comes to invading, everyone is now active.Ah, a heroic resistance can be waged!Cohn would pay, and go to America to buy arms and cannon—Craft immediately offered his collection of sixteenth-century swords.But what about the general?Pay to hire, let's say, McMahon, probably cheap... "Craft and I organize a guerrilla army," Ega shouted. "At your command, my dear Colonel." "Alenka," Ega continued. "You go to the country and take charge of spreading patriotism with songs and poems!" So, the poet put down his wine glass and moved like a lion shaking his neck: "I am an old bone, my child. However, this old bone can not only write poems, but also carry a gun and have good marksmanship." , could bring down a pair of Calicos. . . Truly, boys, such a thing weighs on my heart! In speaking of such matters as are concerned with the country, with the land from which we were born, you How can you still laugh, hell! I agree, maybe our country is barren, but it doesn't matter. We have her and nothing else! We were born here, raised here.. Forget it, talk about other things Come on, talk about women!"

He pushed the tray back, tears of patriotism in his eyes. Damazzu had been silent since talking about the situation of the Emedinian girl, and looked at Carlos respectfully.In the midst of this silence, Damazur raised his voice slowly, and said in a sensible and sly tone: "If things have come to this, and this is so bad, I'd better be careful and run to Paris. Go..." Aijia was very proud now, and jumped up from the chair happily.And behold, from the mouth of Damazur comes the natural and true voice of Portuguese dignity!Run away, slip away! .. Lisbon thinks so from top to bottom!

"Children, as soon as the first Spanish soldier appears on our soil, the whole country will flee like rabbits! This will be the only mass flight in history!" At this moment, the crowd was furious; Alenka shouted: "Down with the traitor!" Cohen interjected that the Portuguese soldiers were brave and, like the Turks, undisciplined but tenacious.Carlos also said seriously: ① Garrigo is from the Galician province of Spain; this refers to the Spaniards. "No...anyone will escape, and will die with honor." Ega was furious.Why are they putting on such a heroic appearance?After fifty years of constitutional government, this nation grew up in the slums of prosperous urban areas, received a botched secondary education, was riddled with syphilis, wasted its life in musty office buildings, and was only occasionally put on the sidewalk on Sundays Breathe in the wind and dust off the dust.They are skinny and have no personality. They are the weakest and most timid people in Europe.

Are all of you here completely blind to these things? "These are Lisbon bugs," Kraft said. "Lisbon equals Portugal," shouted another. "It's zero outside Lisbon. Our whole country is concentrated between the Alcada Palace and the Sao Bento Palace!" "This is the most humble nation in Europe!" Ega was still shouting. "What an army! After two days of marching, a regiment was hospitalized in droves! On the day of the opening of the Parliament, I saw a Swedish sailor - a strong Nordic man - take a company of soldiers with his bare hands. The beating made them run away with their heads in their arms. The soldiers ran away with their bullet bags swinging around their waists; the officials were terrified and hid in a corner of the steps, vomiting continuously!"

All the people present protested against his words.No, there can't be such a thing... But, seeing it with his own eyes, it's a hell of a thing! ..maybe, did, but it was an illusion of the eyes.. "I swear on my mother's health!" cried Aga angrily. However, he shut up.Cohn touched his arm.Science thought to speak. Cohen wants to say that the future is dominated by God.But it seemed to him that the Spaniards certainly intended to invade, especially once it lost Cuba.In Madrid, everyone told him so, even discussing the matter of military supplies. "These Spanish devils, Galician devils!" Alenka cursed through gritted teeth, with a gloomy face, and twisted her beard with her hands.

"At the Hotel de Paris in Madrid," Cohen went on. "I knew a Spanish long palace, and he said to me in a positive tone that he has not lost confidence in settling in Lisbon one day. I think that the Spaniards have long been looking forward to expanding their territory to solve the employment problem!" So, Ega pressed his hands to his chest in bewilderment.Ah, how well spoken!What an insightful review! "Cohen is amazing!" he shouted to those around him. "What an observation! What a speech! What do you say, Kraft? Well, Carlos? Well done!" Cohen's penetrating insights were respected politely.He returned the excited gaze, stroking his beard with his diamond hand.Then the waiter brought out a plate of green beans in white sauce and said in a low voice, "Little Cohn beans."

Shaking style?Everyone looked carefully at their menus.Here it is, a vegetable: Cohen Green Beans.Damazu excitedly said that this is "genuine high-end goods".The champagne was opened and everyone had a drink for Cohen first! Bankruptcy, invasion, fatherland, all forgotten again—the supper ended in joy.Amidst the hustle and bustle, wine glasses rose and fell one after another.With drunken eyes, Ega made a complicated toast, proposing a toast to "revolution" and "anarchism".Cohen toasted it with a smile on his face as if he had conceded to a wayward child.On the tablecloth, fruits and snacks abound.On Alenka's plate, cigarette butts were mixed with chewed pineapple bits.Damazun bowed to Carlos and praised him ① Yakada Palace is the place where ministers work; Sao Bento Palace is the seat of parliament.

Lisbon has arguably the best collection of English stallions and carriages.After Ega inexplicably made that provocative toast, he attacked Kraft again.He cursed Britain and expelled Britain from the ranks of civilized countries; he threatened that Britain would carry out a bloody social revolution.Kraft was composed, nodding his head slightly, and cracking walnuts to eat. The waiter brought coffee.After sitting at the table for nearly three hours, everyone stood up at this time, holding cigar butts, chatting enthusiastically in the aftertaste of champagne.Five bright gas lamps hung from the low ceiling of the living room. The strong aroma of nettle wine and liqueur mixed with the gray smoke made the room very stuffy.

Carlos and Kraft couldn't bear it, so they went to the balcony to get some air.They had grown acquainted at this convivial social occasion, and they were talking again of a valuable set of furniture and antiques from the Manor d'Orives in the Rue d'Arquelin.Kraft further stated that the most valuable and rarest was a sixteenth-century Dutch chest of drawers.Others, a few bronzes and some weapons .. But just then they heard the noise and screams of the group near the table again, another conflict: Alenka shook her head and shouted to object "Bastard Philosophy"; on the other end, Ega, holding a champagne glass, pale and trying to calm down, said: All those long lyric articles that have been published should be sent to the judicial police for conviction!

"It's working again," Damazur said to Carlos, who was walking towards the balcony. "It's for Clavello. Those two are really nice!" It was really for Simon Clavello's modern poem, his "Death of Satan".Ega, reciting excitedly passages from the poem, describes the skeleton of terror as it walks down the sunny street, rustling its silk robes that sweep the floor: between two slender ribs, A bouquet of roses for decoration! Alenka hates this "new century" character—Clavello, who is a realist eunuch, boastful and self-willed. In these two short lines, there are two grammatical mistakes. This is a poem. Poem full of mistakes, characters all plagiarized from Baudelaire!

At this time, Ega drank two glasses of champagne one after another, became defiant and provoked everywhere. "I understand, Alenka, why you say that," he said. "You have a shameful reason. It's because he made fun of you: Alenka of Allenge, spring is here, and spring is in full swing..." "Ah, you haven't heard of it?" He kept turning around speak to people. "It's very interesting, it's Clavillo's masterpiece. Carlos, you've never heard of it? It's wonderful, especially this passage: What does Alenka of Allengue want? neither picking young chrysanthemums in the green field, Don't ask about calendula either.. What does he want? ① Allengue is a district of Lisbon. In the green fields, Alenka of the Allenge, He's after girls! I can't remember the rest, but the poem ends with a cry of reason, an authentic critique of cheap lyricism: Alenka of Alengue. What I want is the lesson of the baton! " Alenka wiped his pale forehead with his hands, fixed his deep-set eyes on the other party, and said in a hoarse voice, "Hey, João Ega, let me tell you something, Boy.. all this doggerel, the vulgar sarcasm of that skinny man and his henchmen, like sewage running through the little ditch beneath my feet, my solution is: Roll up my trouser legs! Roll up my trouser legs, That's all... Dear Ega, roll up my trouser legs!" He suddenly rolled up his trouser legs in annoyance, revealing his underpants. "Well, when you come across a ditch like this," Aga shouted at him. "You just squat down and drink the water from the ditch! It will replenish your blood and inspire you to express yourself!" But Alenka stopped listening to him and shouted at the others, shaking her fists: "If that damn thing, Clavilo, wasn't a skinny guy, maybe we'd have fun kicking him down the Rue de Siados and knocking Clavilo down." Luo and his poems, treat these things that are not as good as dirt and make Satan upset, all as playthings under their feet! Then wipe his face with mud, and then smash his head!" "Don't smash his head like that," Ega said sarcastically. Alianka turned her head towards him, her face very ugly.Anger and brandy made his eyes blaze, and he trembled: "No, I'll smash your head, I'll smash your João Ega! I can smash your head like this, look, that's it!" He stomped on the floor so hard that the whole hall shook and the glass and china clanged. "I don't want to smash it, though, boys! Because that skull's full of feces, and disgusting residue, and blood, and mildew, and if you smash his skull, boys, if you smash it Crack his skull, and all the rotting brains will burst out, and the whole city will have the plague, and we'll all have cholera. God, we'll all have the plague!" Seeing that he was too excited, Carlos grabbed his arm, trying to calm him down: "Oh, Alenka! Don't do this...it's not worth it!..." The other party broke away from him, and unbuttoned his coat panting buttoned his clothes, shouting loudly: "Indeed, no one deserves to be angry with this 'new century' ghost of Cravello, who is a scoundrel! He forgot that his dirty sister is Magu Ka from Porto. A whore worth two pennies in the Navizeth district!" "Stop it, it's too much, you bastard!" Aga cried, shaking his fists angrily. Cohen and Damazur embraced him in horror.Carlos immediately took Alencara to the window.The latter, with red eyes, desperately loosened his tie and sat on a chair.A dainty drawing-room with carved sheepskin sofas and camellias now looked like a tavern, with thugs swearing at each other and the smoke filling the air.Damazu's face was pale, and he begged one by one in a hoarse voice: "Masters, masters, this is at the Central Hotel! Jesus, my lord...this is at the Central Hotel!..." Ega was hugged by Cohen He stopped, and he continued to shout in a hoarse voice: "You bastard, you coward... let me go, Cohen! No, I'll give him a slap in the face! . . God-like good man! . . . you slanderer . . . no, I must strangle him!" All this while Kraft was impassively gulping Chartreuse. He was used to quarreling, fighting, and shouting between two schools of literature.Alenca's vulgar attitude towards another poet's sister has become a common occurrence in Portuguese literary criticism.All this just made him smile coldly and take it calmly.Besides, he also knew that soon they would reconcile and embrace warmly.That's right.Alenka followed Carlos and turned back to Mi from the window sill, while buttoning his coat, his face was gloomy, as if a little regretful.In the other corner of the living room, Cohen was talking with Ai Yao seriously in the manner of an old man.Then, turning around, raising his hands, he said in a loud voice that all of you here are gentlemen, that Alenka and Ega are two geniuses, both of high spirit, and that they should embrace each other..."Go, shake Shake hands, Ega, please do this for me! .. Alenka, come, I beg you to do this!" The author of "Evila" took a step forward, the author of "Memories of an Atom" stretched out his hand.However, the first handshake was reluctant and feeble.Then Alenka said generously to him that there should be no dark clouds between him and Ega!He did too much just now... It was because he had a bad temper and got angry for a while. This kind of anger brought so many sad tears in his life!He would also like to take this opportunity to proclaim loudly that Madame Anna Clavilo is a holy woman!He met her at Besodo's home in Magu Kanavizes... Mrs. Anna Clavilo is a virtuous wife and a kind mother.He admits from the bottom of his heart that Clavilo is talented! ..He poured a glass of champagne and raised it high in front of Ega like a god: "Joao, I wish you health!" Ega also responded generously and said: "Thomas, I wish you well!" The two hugged.Alenka swore that just the night before, at Madame Joanne Cottineau's, he had said that he had not seen anyone more talented than Ega!Ega immediately said that in terms of beautiful lyricism, no one's poetry could compare with Alenka's poetry.They hugged again and patted each other on the shoulder.They are "art bros" who are geniuses! "These are two supermen," Kraft whispered to Carlos, looking for his hat. "They make my heart. Go get some air!" It was late at night, it was eleven o'clock.People were still drinking brandy.After a while, Cohen took Ega away.Damazur also left with Carlos.Carlos prepares to walk home across Atero. At the door the poet stopped and said solemnly: "My children," he cried, taking off his hat and vigorously wiping his forehead. "How about it? I think my performance can be called a gentleman, right? " Carlos agrees, and compliments him on his generosity.. "I'm very happy with what you said to me, because you know what a gentleman is! Well, now let's go to Artero together.. But first, I have to go there to buy a pack of cigarettes.." ①Saudi Lez is a blended French spirit. "What a character!" Damazur said loudly, watching Alenka go away. "Things almost got out of hand..." He then praised Carlos again.It would never have occurred to Mr. Maia how long ago he had longed to know him. "Really.." "Your Excellency, I believe... I am not a flatterer... But, Your Excellency, you can ask Ega, how many times I have said: Your Excellency is an outstanding figure in Lisbon!" Carlos bowed his head and said nothing, just pursed his lips and smiled.Damatsu once again expressed his feelings and said: "Mr. Maya, these are sincere words. Please believe me, they are words from the heart!" He is indeed sincere.Ever since Carlos took up residence in Lisbon, the fat young man with high cheekbones had admired him silently and deeply.And Carlos didn't know this at all.The color of his shiny patent leather shoes and gloves aroused Damatsu's admiration, as important as creeds and principles. He saw Carlos as the supreme example of chic, the sort of chic he liked.He regards Carlos as Brummel ①00100750_189_1, Dolce ②00100750_189_2, Morny ③—as what he used to say with wide eyes, "something that can only be seen abroad".This afternoon, when he knew that he was going to have dinner with Maia and get acquainted with Maia, he fiddled with his tie and sprayed perfume in front of the mirror for two hours, as if he was going on a tryst with a woman — also for Carlos; he ordered the horses to be ready at ten o'clock, and the coachman had a flower in his breast. "So that Brazilian lady lives here?" Carlos asked, taking two steps forward, staring at the lit windows on the third floor. Damazur followed his gaze. "She lives on the other side. They came here fifteen days ago.. very personable people. She is charming, did you notice? On the boat, I followed her closely.. She also talked to me Talk! But since I got here, it's been busy, eating here, partying there, and some little adventures.. I haven't been able to come here, only left them a few notes. But I always see her Image, I hope she stays longer..Maybe I come tomorrow, now I feel itchy all over..If I meet her alone, I will definitely give her a passionate kiss immediately. I don't know if Your Excellency does the same. And My theory on women is: Attract her! My solution is to grab her without hesitation!" Meanwhile Alenka came back from the cigarette shop with a cigar in her mouth.When Damazur left, he loudly told the coachman the address of Mrs. Morelli, the pillar of the San Carlos Theater, so that Carlos could hear him. "This Damazur is a good young man," said Alenka, taking Carlos's arm and walking along Artero Street together. "He was a frequent visitor to the Cohns, and well liked in society. The lad was a rich man, the son of old Sylva, a usurer, who shaved your father hard, and me as well. But he signed it with Salcede, maybe it was his mother's name, or he made it up. He's a good young man..his father is a villain! I can almost hear Pietro with that elegant Said to him with aristocratic grace: 'Silva, you old Jew, money, a lot of money! ..' These are the bygone times. My dear Carlos, the memorable ones. The ones we are proud of! " On the long Via Artero, a row of dim gaslights resembled a funeral procession; while walking along the street, Alenka talked about the "unforgettable moments" of his and Pietro's youth.From his lyrical words, Carlos felt a strange fragrance emanating from the past world.. At that time, the enthusiasm of the civil war was still there, and they flocked to the tavern in droves, making a scene. The world is turned upside down, or the whip Xiuma drives a two-wheeled carriage and rushes desperately to Syndra.At the time Syndra was a place for romantic trysts.In the romantic bushes, the noble ladies nestle in the arms of the poets.They are the Avilas, and they are the Anthonys.At that time, money was abundant, the royal family was happy, and the prosperous literary revival made this country known as the beautiful garden of Europe more colorful.The graduates from Coimbra were eloquent, the ministers of the court chanted poems with the accompaniment of the piano, and even the eulogies and draft laws were full of lyrical colors.. "Lisbon was obviously more joyful and interesting at that time, said Carlos. "That's a different story, my dear Carlos! Back then, people got along just fine! Without all this scientific panache, and not at all with all this philosophical fluff and this bunch of positivist dandies... But, my boy, people were good-hearted! People were inspired! Even in politics.. Look at the people now, these shameless people.. At that time, people could go to Parliament and be inspired and wised up! ..the heads of those people are sober and clear! ..besides that, child, there are very wonderful women." He drooped his shoulders feebly, lost in nostalgia for the lost world.His poetic disheveled hair, hanging under his old broad-brimmed hat, added to his shabby appearance.His coat was worn out and poorly made, barely wrapping around his waist. The two walked in silence for a while.Arriving at Jan Wieders Street, Alenka wanted to "be sober." The two walked into a small shop.The dim yellow light of a kerosene lamp in the basement illuminated the damp lead on the counter and the bottles on the shelves.The proprietress was covered with a turban, and her figure looked even more bleak under the light.Alenka seemed to be familiar with this shop, and even knew that Mrs. Candida had a toothache.He advised her to go to a doctor immediately.He walked down lovingly through the hazy smoke, and rested his elbows on the counter.When Carlos wanted to pay for the white rum, he got mad.He threw two coins on the shiny counter and cried seriously: "In the hotel, I will claim the honor of being the host, dear Carlos! Let someone else pay at the courthouse.. Here, In the hotel, I pay!" He took Carlos' arm as he reached the door.After walking slowly and silently a few steps in the street, he stopped again (with his eyes fixed on the dark night), and in that inarticulate voice that seemed to be swallowed up by the deep night, he thought about his Say, "Son, that Rachel Mrs. Cohen is divinely beautiful! Do you know her?" "have met before." "Doesn't she remind you of a woman in the Bible? I don't mean a masculine woman like Judith and Delilah, but a poetic, tender woman in the Bible. . . beautiful woman!" Rachel was the passion of Alenka's spirit, his lover, his Beatrice... "Have you read those lines I wrote that were published in the National Journal? "April has come! You are mine, The wind said to Rose. These two sentences are well written!Here, a trick is played: April is here, you are mine.. But then again: the wind says to the rose.Do you understand what this means?Echoed around.But you can't imagine that there is something else in it, or that I am courting her... Cohen is a friend, a brother ① Delilah is the mistress of Samson in the Bible, and Samson is betrayed by her; People often call a loyal woman Delilah.See chapter sixteen of the Old Testament and Judges. Brother, and his wife—Rachel is really a bit like my sister...but, she is a fairy.Those eyes, child, soft and bright, like soft velvet! " He took off his hat and wiped his broad forehead.Then, his tone changed, and he said with difficulty: "That Ega is still very talented...he often goes to Cohen's house...Rachel thinks he is a very interesting character..." They came to the gate of the sunflower compound , Carlos stopped.Alenka glanced at the monastery-like solemn appearance of the house, and there was silence and no light inside. "Your house looks majestic.. Well, please go in, son, and I'm going to stroll back to my house slowly. If you want to find me, son, please go to No. 52 Rue Cavalliu 4 The building is mine, but I live on the fourth floor. At first I lived on the second floor, and slowly climbed up..Dear Carlos, the only thing I climbed was the stairs." He gestured as if he didn't care about the suffering. "Come to my house some day for supper. I can't give you a feast, but you'll be sure to have a bowl of soup and a roast chicken. . . My servant Mattius is a Negro and a friend of mine; he has helped I have been cooking for many years, and I will definitely ask him to do it! He used to cook for your father—my poor Pietro.. At that time, my child, my house was very lively. I let them Stay, let them eat, give them money back. Many of those guys went for a ride in a rich carriage today, with a footman behind them.. Now they turn their faces away when they see me..." "This is Your own imagination," Carlos reassured him. "No, Carlos," replied the poet very earnestly and bitterly. "Not what I imagined. You do not know my fate.I've seen enough, boy.I shouldn't have had this experience.Really, shouldn't..." He grabbed Carlos' arm and said tremblingly: "Look, these celebrities now, they used to eat and drink with me.I lent them money generously, and entertained them all night long... But now, they have become ministers, ambassadors, celebrities, and a group of devils.Do they share the pancakes they have with you?No, not even me.How sad, Carlos, how sad, my dear Carlos.Hell, I don't want them to grant me a title of earl, or an embassy .. just something to do in some institution.. But there's no such thing as a janitor!Fortunately, I still have some bread and a few ounces of shredded tobacco.. But, these ungrateful people are so angry that my hair is turning white.. Well, I just want to disturb you again. May God bless you and be happy. You should be happy, my dear Carlos! " "Won't you go up and sit for a while, Alenka?" Such a sincere heart moved the poet. "Thanks, kid," he said, hugging Carlos. "I thank you very much, because I know that it comes from the heart...your family has a good heart...your father has a good heart; his heart is big and solid, like a lion's heart! Please believe me, I Could be a friend of yours. It's not empty words, it's from here.. Well, bye, boy. Would you like a cigar?" Kages, like a gift from heaven, accepted it immediately. "Well, here's a cigar, boy!" Alenka exclaimed excitedly. The cigar was given to a rich man, the owner of the Sunflower Court, and it reminded him at once of the time at the Café Marais, when, like a sentimental Manfred, he held the A box full of cigars was presented to the surrounding people.So cigars sparked his interest.He struck a match himself, ① the protagonist in Byron's poetic drama of the same name "Manfred"; a tragic figure. Looking at the cigar burning, the green smoke is lingering.Well, is this cigar okay?Carlos thinks the cigar tastes great! "Fortunately, what I give you is a good cigar!" He hugged Carlos again.The clock was striking one when he finally walked away, humming a Fado song to his heart's content. Back in the room, Carlos lay on the couch and finished smoking the terrible cigar that Alenka gave him.Battista made him a cup of tea.Before going to sleep, he recalled the strange past told to him by the old poet... Poor Alenka, what a lovely person!How he tried to avoid mentioning Maria Monfort's name when he spoke of Pietro, Arroios, of old friends and of past love affairs!While walking in Artero Street, Carlos asked him more than once: "Good Alenka, tell me about my mother, I am fully aware that she ran away with an Italian!" This reminded Carlos vaguely of the sad past he had heard in Coimbra.Everything was so contrived that night that it was full of holes.Because in accordance with Pietro's suicide note, Grandpa Lun told him a high-sounding story: a passionate marriage, character discord, and an amicable breakup.My mother then moved to France with my sister, and died there.That's all.The father's death had always been described as the result of a sudden exacerbation of a long-standing neurosis. But Aga knew all about it; he had heard it from his uncles. . . . The specious point of view reveals the inner thoughts.He despises women's honesty, and thinks it is the cause of women's degeneration; he cites that illegitimate children are always smart, brave, and promising!If Ega's mother, his biological mother, was not a bourgeois holy woman who prayed by the fire with a rosary all day long, but like Carlos's mother, a romantic girl, because falling in love with an exile can throw away wealth, Dignity, honor, life of a woman, then he will be very proud!In the quiet night, when Carlos heard this, he stopped in the middle of a bridge they were passing in a daze.But he couldn't ask Aga, because he was talking incessantly.It didn't take long before he made a fool of himself and spat Carlos all over his body.Carlos had to drag and drag him back to Seshas's place, undress him, endure kisses and kisses from drunks, and even spittle when Ega embraced him in the corridor. Muttering: "I'm going to be a bastard; I wish my mother was a slut! . . . " Cages couldn't sleep that night thinking that this mother was nothing like what he was told; Into the arms of an exile—maybe a Pole!Next day he went to Ega's room and begged him to tell the whole truth, for the sake of being a good friend. Poor Ega fell ill, pale, with a wet cloth tied on his head.The poor man was so embarrassed that he didn't know what to say!Carlos sat on the edge of the bed, comforting him as he used to chat in the evening.He came here not because he felt insulted, but out of curiosity!Damn it that people kept such a big deal about his family from him; he wanted to know why!There must be a romance in it!He wants to hear this romance! So Ega regained his courage, and slowly he told the story—he heard it from his uncle—how Sister Mary fell in love with a prince, how she ran away with him, and then lost her for many years The news.. At this point, the holidays begin.In Santa Olavia, Carlos told Grandpa how Ega got drunk, how he babbled, how he hiccupped and said that.Grandpa was at a loss, and was speechless for a while—at last, he spoke out in a weak and painful voice, the voice was so weak, as if the heart had stopped beating in the chest cavity.But he told Carlos the whole story of this disgraceful romance in detail, until that afternoon when Pietro came to see him, pale and muddy, and fell into his arms like a child. Weeping so painfully.The grandpa went on to say that the end of the affair led to the death of his mother in Vienna, Austria, and the death of his granddaughter whom he had never met, when Monfort took her with him to the mountains...that was the case.Thus, the shame of the family is now buried in the mausoleum of Santa Olavia, and in cemeteries in distant foreign countries. Carlos remembers clearly that after this sad conversation with his grandfather that afternoon, he tried riding a English mare.At dinner, only the mare Sudana was talked about.In fact, within a few days, he forgot about that mother.His feeling for the tragedy was nothing more than a vague, literary interest.It happened more than twenty years ago, in a society that has practically disappeared completely, like an insignificant anecdote in an ancient family history, like an ancestor who died in Alcazar Guild It's like his grandmother once lay on the imperial couch.The incident did not bring a tear to his face, nor did it make him blush.Indeed, it seemed that he would rather be proud of his mother than a rare and precious flower, because he could not live his life to blame for her faults.Why do you want to do that?His honor does not depend on her faults committed by impulse.She is guilty; she is dead, and that is the end.What should be thought of is his father, who fell into a pool of blood and died in despair because of wearing a cuckold.However, he has never met his father, and all his impressions and fond memories of him are that expressionless, clumsy portrait of a man with a dark complexion and eyes that hangs in the dressing room. A big, young man wearing a pair of yellow buckskin gloves and holding a whip. He has no impression of his mother, neither a photo nor a pencil sketch.Grandpa told him she was blonde.Beyond that, he knew nothing.He had never seen his parents, never slept on their arms, never had their caress and warmth.Father, mother, to him, are but the usual symbols of reverence.Father, mother, and family's love are all concentrated on grandpa alone. Battista brought tea, the cigar that Alenka had given him was burned out, and he was still leaning on the couch, wallowing in his memories.由于这顿晚餐时间过长，疲劳使他慢慢地进入了梦乡..于是，在他合上了眼睛之后，逐渐出现了一幅瑰丽景象，五彩缤纷，充满了整个房间。流淌的河水上空，黄昏在死一般的寂静中消逝。中央饭店的大柱子仍清晰可见，显得更加粗了。一位头发花白的黑人怀抱着一只小狗走了过来。一位身材颀长的女人走了过去，肤色洁白如玉，女神般的美丽，身着一件热那亚自外套。克拉夫特在他身旁说：“真美。”他微微一笑，陶醉在那胸部凸起，线条有起有伏，色彩艳丽的形象之中了。 他上床时已经凌晨三点。没等他在那围在绸缎窗帘之内的昏暗气氛中人睡，又一个风和日丽的美好冬日消失了。日落之前，中央饭店粗俗的大柱子在变大；那个肤色黝黑的用人，怀抱着小狗又走了回来；身着热那亚白外套的女人显得异常高大，在云层中行走，她有着朱诺①般的高贵气派，攀登着奥林匹斯②山。她那漆皮的鞋尖插入了蓝光之中，裙子在她身后拂动，象是随风飘扬的旗帜。她一直在走来走去..克拉夫特说：“真美。”然后，一切都变得乱乱糟糟，只有阿连卡一个人，高大得象个巨人，顶天立地；他那件做工粗陋的黑外套都遮住了星星的光辉，随着感情的激荡，他的胡子也飞舞了起来；他举起双臂，在空中高呼着：四月来到了，你是我的！ ①朱诺是罗马神话中朱庇特之妻，气派高贵的美人。 ②奥林匹斯山，在希腊北部，相传古希腊诸神居住于此。