a woman of thirty-第27部分

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g　walls　and　transforming　the　atmosphere　into　a　gauzy　veil；　calling　up　rich　contrasts　of　light　and　fantastic　shadow；　when　the　sky　is　blue　and　earth　quivers　in　the　heat；　and　the　bells　are　pealing；　then　you　shall　see　one　of　the　eloquent　fairy　scenes　which　stamp　themselves　for　ever　on　the　imagination；　a　scene　that　shall　find　as　fanatical　worshipers　as　the　wondrous　views　of　Naples　and　Byzantium　or　the　isles　of　Florida。　Nothing　is　wanting　to　complete　the　harmony；　the　murmur　of　the　world　of　men　and　the　idyllic　quiet　of　solitude；　the　voices　of　a　million　human　creatures　and　the　voice　of　God。　There　lies　a　whole　capital　beneath　the　peaceful　cypresses　of　Pere…Lachaise。

The　landscape　lay　in　all　its　beauty；　sparkling　in　the　spring　sunlight；　as　I　stood　looking　out　over　it　one　morning；　my　back　against　a　huge　elm…tree　that　flung　its　yellow　flowers　to　the　wind。　At　the　sight　of　the　rich　and　glorious　view　before　me；　I　thought　bitterly　of　the　scorn　with　which　even　in　our　literature　we　affect　to　hold　this　land　of　ours；　and　poured　maledictions　on　the　pitiable　plutocrats　who　fall　out　of　love　with　fair　France；　and　spend　their　gold　to　acquire　the　right　of　sneering　at　their　own　country；　by　going　through　Italy　at　a　gallop　and　inspecting　that　desecrated　land　through　an　opera…glass。　I　cast　loving　eyes　on　modern　Paris。　I　was　beginning　to　dream　dreams；　when　the　sound　of　a　kiss　disturbed　the　solitude　and　put　philosophy　to　flight。　Down　the　sidewalk；　along　the　steep　bank；　above　the　rippling　water；　I　saw　beyond　the　Ponte　des　Gobelins　the　figure　of　a　woman；　dressed　with　the　daintiest　simplicity；　she　was　still　young；　as　it　seemed　to　me；　and　the　blithe　gladness　of　the　landscape　was　reflected　in　her　sweet　face。　Her　companion；　a　handsome　young　man；　had　just　set　down　a　little　boy。　A　prettier　child　has　never　been　seen；　and　to　this　day　I　do　not　know　whether　it　was　the　little　one　or　his　mother　who　received　the　kiss。　In　their　young　faces；　in　their　eyes；　their　smile；　their　every　movement；　you　could　read　the　same　deep　and　tender　thought。　Their　arms　were　interlaced　with　such　glad　swiftness；　they　drew　close　together　with　such　marvelous　unanimity　of　impulse　that；　conscious　of　nothing　but　themselves；　they　did　not　so　much　as　see　me。　A　second　child；　howevera　little　girl；　who　had　turned　her　back　upon　them　in　sullen　discontent　threw　me　a　glance；　and　the　expression　in　her　eyes　startled　me。　She　was　as　pretty　and　engaging　as　the　little　brother　whom　she　left　to　run　about　by　himself；　sometimes　before；　sometimes　after　their　mother　and　her　companion；　but　her　charm　was　less　childish；　and　now；　as　she　stood　mute　and　motionless；　her　attitude　and　demeanor　suggested　a　torpid　snake。　There　was　something　indescribably　mechanical　in　the　way　in　which　the　pretty　woman　and　her　companion　paced　up　and　down。　In　absence　of　mind；　probably；　they　were　content　to　walk　to　and　fro　between　the　little　bridge　and　a　carriage　that　stood　waiting　nearby　at　a　corner　in　the　boulevard；　turning；　stopping　short　now　and　again；　looking　into　each　other's　eyes；　or　breaking　into　laughter　as　their　casual　talk　grew　lively　or　languid；　grave　or　gay。

I　watched　this　delicious　picture　a　while　from　my　hiding…place　by　the　great　elm…tree；　and　should　have　turned　away　no　doubt　and　respected　their　privacy；　if　it　had　not　been　for　a　chance　discovery。　In　the　face　of　the　brooding；　silent；　elder　child　I　saw　traces　of　thought　overdeep　for　her　age。　When　her　mother　and　the　young　man　at　her　side　turned　and　came　near；　her　head　was　frequently　lowered；　the　furtive　sidelong　glances　of　intelligence　that　she　gave　the　pair　and　the　child　her　brother　were　nothing　less　than　extraordinary。　Sometimes　the　pretty　woman　or　her　friend　would　stroke　the　little　boy's　fair　curls；　or　lay　a　caressing　finger　against　the　baby　throat　or　the　white　collar　as　he　played　at　keeping　step　with　them；　and　no　words　can　describe　the　shrewd　subtlety；　the　ingenuous　malice；　the　fierce　intensity　which　lighted　up　that　pallid　little　face　with　the　faint　circles　already　round　the　eyes。　Truly　there　was　a　man's　power　of　passion　in　the　strange…looking；　delicate　little　girl。　Here　were　traces　of　suffering　or　of　thought　in　her；　and　which　is　the　more　certain　token　of　death　when　life　is　in　blossomphysical　suffering；　or　the　malady　of　too　early　thought　preying　upon　a　soul　as　yet　in　bud？　Perhaps　a　mother　knows。　For　my　own　part；　I　know　of　nothing　more　dreadful　to　see　than　an　old　man's　thoughts　on　a　child's　forehead；　even　blasphemy　from　girlish　lips　is　less　monstrous。

The　almost　stupid　stolidity　of　this　child　who　had　begun　to　think　already；　her　rare　gestures；　everything　about　her；　interested　me。　I　scrutinized　her　curiously。　Then　the　common　whim　of　the　observer　drew　me　to　compare　her　with　her　brother；　and　to　note　their　likeness　and　unlikeness。

Her　brown　hair　and　dark　eyes　and　look　of　precocious　power　made　a　rich　contrast　with　the　little　one's　fair　curled　head　and　sea…green　eyes　and　winning　helplessness。　She；　perhaps；　was　seven　or　eight　years　of　age；　the　boy　was　full　four　years　younger。　Both　children　were　dressed　alike；　but　here　again；　looking　closely；　I　noticed　a　difference。　It　was　very　slight；　a　little　thing　enough；　but　in　the　light　of　after　events　I　saw　that　it　meant　a　whole　romance　in　the　past；　a　whole　tragedy　to　come。　The　little　brown…haired　maid　wore　a　linen　collar　with　a　plain　hem；　her　brother's　was　edged　with　dainty　embroidery；　that　was　all；　but　therein　lay　the　confession　of　a　heart's　secret；　a　tacit　preference　which　a　child　can　read　in　the　mother's　inmost　soul　as　clearly　as　if　the　spirit　of　God　revealed　it。　The　fair…haired　child；　careless　and　glad；　looked　almost　like　a　girl；　his　skin　was　so　fair　and　fresh；　his　movements　so　graceful；　his　look　so　sweet；　while　his　older　sister；　in　spite　of　her　energy；　in　spite　of　the　beauty　of　her　features　and　her　dazzling　complexion；　looked　like　a　sickly　little　boy。　In　her　bright　eyes　there　was　none　of　the　humid　softness　which　lends　such　charm　to　children's　faces；　they　seemed；　like　courtiers'　eyes；　to　be　dried　by　some　inner　fire；　and　in　her　pallor　there　was　a　certain　swarthy　olive　tint；　the　sign　of　vigorous　character。　Twice　her　little　brother　came　to　her；　holding　out　a　tiny　hunting…horn　with　a　touching　charm；　a　winning　look；　and　wistful　expression；　which　would　have　sent　Charlet　into　ecstasies；　but　she　only　scowled　in　answer　to　his　〃Here；　Helene；　will　you　take　it？〃　so　persuasively　spoken。　The　little　girl；　so　sombre　and　vehement　beneath　her　apparent　indifference；　shuddered；　and　even　flushed　red　when　her　brother　came　near　her；　but　the　little　one　seemed　not　to　notice　his　sister's　dark　mood；　and　his　unconsciousness；　blended　with　earnestness；　marked　a　final　difference　in　character　between　the　child　and　the　little　girl；　whose　brow　was　overclouded　already　by　the　gloom　of　a　man's　knowledge　and　cares。

〃Mamma；　Helene　will　not　play；〃　cried　the　little　one；　seizing　an　opportunity　to　complain　while　the　two　stood　silent　on　the　Ponte　des　Gobelins。

〃Let　her　alone；　Charles；　you　know　very　well　that　she　is　always　cross。〃

Tears　sprang　to　Helene's　eyes　at　the　words　so　thoughtlessly　uttered　by　her　mother　as　she　turned　abruptly　to　the　young　man　by　her　side。　The　child　devoured　the　speech　in　silence；　but　she　gave　her　brother　one　of　those　sagacious　looks　that　seemed　inexplicable　to　me；　glancing　with　a　sinister　expression　from　the　bank　where　he　stood　to　the　Bievre；　then　at　the　bridge　and　the　view；　and　then　at　me。

I　as　afraid　lest　my　presence　should　disturb　the　happy　couple；　I　slipped　away　and　took　refuge　behind　a　thicket　of　elder　trees；　which　completely　screened　me　from　all　eyes。　Sitting　quietly　on　the　summit　of　the　bank；　I　watched　the　ever…changing　landscape　and　the　fierce…looking　little　girl；　for　with　my　head　almost　on　a　level　with　the　boulevard　I　could　still　see　her　through　the　leaves。　Helene　seemed　uneasy　over　my　disappearance；　her　dark　eyes　looked　for　me　down　the　alley　and　behind　the　trees　with　indefinable　curiosity。　What　was　I　to　her？　Then　Charles'　baby　laughter　rang　out　like　a　bird's　song　in　the　silence。　The　tall；　young　man；　with　the　same　fair　hair；　was　dancing　him　in　his　arms；　showering　kisses　upon　him；　and　the　meaningless　baby　words　of　that　〃little　language〃　which　rises　to　our　lips　when　we　play　with　children。　The　mother　looked　on　smiling；　now　and　then；　doubtless；　putting　in　some　low　word　that　came　up　from　the　heart；　for　her　companion　would　stop　short　in　his　full　happiness；　and　the　blue　eyes　that　turned　towards　her　were　full　of　glowing　light　and　love　and　worship。　Their　voices；　blending　with　the　child's　voice；　reached　me　with　a　vague　sense　of　a　caress。　The　three　figures；　charming　in　themselves；　composed　a　lovely　scene　in　a　glorious　landscape；　filling　it　with　a　pervasive　unimaginable　grace。　A　delicately　fair　woman；　radiant　with　smiles；　a　child　of　love；　a　young　man　with　the　irresistible　charm　of　youth；　a　cloudless　sky；　nothing　was　wanting　in　nature　to　complete　a　perfect　harmony　for　the　delight　of　the　soul。　I　found　myself　smiling　as　if　their　happiness　had　been　my　own。

The　clocks　struck　nine。　The　young　man　gave　a　tender　embrace　to　his　companion；　and　went　towards　the　tilbury　which　an　old　servant　drove　slowly　to　meet　him。　The　lady　had　grown　grave　and　almost　sad。　The　child's　prattle　sounded　unchecked　through　the　last　farewell　kisses。　Then　the　tilbury　rolled　away；　and　the　lady　stoo