第一百六十九章 第二卷 那个时代的红色幽灵之一
第二卷 那个时代的红色幽灵之一
在那个时代，如果有人偶然经过韦尔农这座小城，并走上那座宏伟的石桥（但愿这桥不久将被一座丑陋的铁索桥取代），他如果凭栏俯视，就会看到一个五十岁左右的男人，头戴皮帽，身穿粗灰呢裤子和背心，背心上缝着一件发黄的红色饰带样的东西，脚蹬木鞋，皮肤被太阳晒得黝黑，面孔几乎全黑，头发几乎全白，额上有一道大伤疤一直延伸到脸颊，他弯腰驼背，未老先衰，几乎每天手里拿着锄头和镰刀，在一片围起来的园子里劳作。这片园子紧挨着桥头，像一排梯田似的沿着塞纳河左岸延伸。这是些迷人的小园子，里面开满了鲜花，要是再大一点，人们会说："这是花园"，要是再小一点，人们会说："这是花束"。所有这些园子的一头都临河，另一头都靠着一幢房子。我们刚才谈到的那位穿背心、蹬木鞋的男人，大约在1817年，就住在这些园子里最小的一间，也是最简陋的一幢房子里。他独自一人，沉默寡言，过着清贫的生活，只有一个既不算年轻也不算年老，既不算丑也不算美，既不是农妇也不是市民的女人服侍他。他称之为他的花园的那块地，因为他在那里栽种的花儿异常美丽而在城里颇有名气。种花就是他的职业。
由于劳作、坚持、专注和一桶桶的水，他终于在造物主之后有所创造，发明了一些似乎被大自然遗忘的郁金香和大丽花。他很有巧思，在苏朗日·博丹之前，就想到用泥炭土做成小土堆，用来培植来自美洲和中国的珍稀花木。夏天，天一亮，他就在小径上忙碌，栽种、修剪、锄地、浇水，带着和蔼、忧伤而又温柔的神情在花丛中漫步，有时会一动不动地沉思几个小时，聆听树上鸟儿的歌唱、附近屋里孩子的咿呀学语，或者凝视着草尖上的一滴露珠，阳光把它变成了一颗红宝石。他的饮食非常简朴，喝的牛奶比酒多。小孩子都能让他让步，他的女仆还经常数落他。他如此怯懦，以至于显得有些腼腆，他很少出门，除了一些敲他窗户的穷人和他的本堂神甫马伯夫先生——一位善良的老人——他谁也不见。然而，如果城里的居民，或者外地人，或者任何碰巧路过的人，出于好奇想看他的郁金香而按响他小屋的门铃，他总会微笑着开门。他就是那个"卢瓦尔河的匪徒"。
与此同时，如果有人读过军事回忆录、传记、《箴言报》和帝国大军的战报，一定会被一个相当频繁出现的名字所吸引——乔治·彭眉胥。这位乔治·彭眉胥非常年轻时就当了兵，在圣东日团服役。革命爆发了。圣东日团隶属于莱茵方面军；因为君主制下老团队的省名在君主制垮台后仍被保留下来，直到1794年才改编成旅。彭眉胥在施派尔、沃尔姆斯、诺伊施塔特、蒂尔克海姆、阿尔蔡、美因茨等地打过仗；在美因茨，他是组成乌沙尔后卫部队的两百人之一。他们第十二人坚守在安德纳赫的旧城墙后面，抵抗黑森亲王的部队，直到敌人的大炮从胸墙顶部到斜坡脚下打开了一个缺口，他们才重新与大部队会合。他在马尔谢讷和蒙帕利塞尔战役中隶属克莱贝尔，在那里，一颗霰弹打断了他的胳膊。随后他调往意大利边境，是跟随朱贝尔守卫唐德山的三十名掷弹兵之一。朱贝尔被任命为他的副官长，彭眉胥成为少尉。在洛迪那一天，彭眉胥就在贝尔蒂埃身边，置身于葡萄弹的弹雨中，正是这弹雨使波拿巴说道："贝尔蒂埃当过炮手、骑兵和掷弹兵。"他在诺维亲眼目睹他的老上司朱贝尔将军倒下，当时朱贝尔正举着马刀高喊："前进！"由于战事的需要，他随连队登上了一艘从热那亚驶往海岸某偏僻港口的小艇，不料陷入了七八艘英国船只的包围。热那亚船长想把大炮扔进海里，把士兵藏到底舱，在黑暗中像商船一样悄悄溜走。彭眉胥却把军旗升到桅顶，骄傲地扬帆从英国护卫舰的炮口下驶过。二十里格之后，他胆量更大了，竟用小艇攻击并俘获了一艘运送军队前往西西里的大英运输船，那艘船满载人马，船身几乎与海面齐平。1805年，他隶属于夺取了斐迪南大公京茨堡的马尔赫师团。在韦尔廷根，他冒着弹雨，从第九龙骑兵团阵亡的上校莫佩蒂手中接过了他。他在奥斯特里茨战役中表现突出，参与了那次在敌人炮火下完成的出色的梯队行进。当俄罗斯帝国近卫骑兵击溃了第四线列步兵团的一个营时，彭眉胥是进行反击并击溃近卫军的勇士之一。皇帝授予了他十字勋章。彭眉胥先后目睹了曼图亚的武尔姆泽、亚历山德里亚的梅拉斯、乌尔姆的马克被俘。他曾是莫尔捷元帅指挥的帝国大军第八军的成员，该军攻占了汉堡。随后他被调往第五十五线列步兵团，也就是原来的佛兰德团。在埃劳战役中，他在那个公墓里，英勇的雨果上尉——本书作者的叔父——仅仅率领着他那八十三人的连队，独自支撑了两个小时，抵挡住了敌军的所有进攻。彭眉胥是活着走出那个公墓的三个人之一。他参加了弗里德兰战役。随后他看见了莫斯科。然后是别列津纳河、吕岑、包岑、德累斯顿、瓦肖、莱比锡和盖伦豪森隘口；然后是蒙米拉伊、蒂埃里堡、克拉奥讷、马恩河畔、埃纳河畔，以及拉昂那个令人生畏的阵地。在阿尔奈勒迪克，当时他已是一名上尉，他砍倒了十个哥萨克兵，并救出了——不是他的将军——而是他的下士。那次他受了重伤，光左臂就取出了二十七块弹片。在巴黎投降前八天，他刚和一位战友对调了职务，加入了骑兵。他拥有旧制度下所谓的"双手"，也就是说，作为一名士兵，他同样擅长使用马刀或火枪；作为一名军官，他同样擅长指挥骑兵连或步兵营。正是这种通过军事教育完善的能力，衍生出了某些特殊兵种，例如龙骑兵，他们既是骑兵又是步兵。他随拿破仑去了厄尔巴岛。在滑铁卢，他是杜布瓦旅的一名胸甲骑兵连连长。就是他夺取了吕讷堡营的军旗。他走上前把军旗扔在皇帝脚下。他浑身是血。在夺旗时，他脸上挨了一刀。皇帝非常高兴，对他喊道："你是上校，你是男爵，你是荣誉军团军官！"彭眉胥回答说："陛下，我为我寡妇感谢您。"一小时后，他倒在了奥安的洼地里。那么，这个乔治·彭眉胥是谁呢？他就是那个"卢瓦尔河的匪徒"。
我们已经多少了解了他的一些经历。滑铁卢之后，彭眉胥——人们还记得，他是从奥安凹路里被救出来的——设法回到了部队，从一个野战医院辗转拖到另一个野战医院，一直到了卢瓦尔河地区的驻防地。
复辟王朝让他处于半薪状态，然后把他发配到居住地，也就是监视居住地，即韦尔农。路易十八把百日王朝期间发生的一切都视为从未发生，既不承认他荣誉军团军官的身份，也不承认他的上校军衔和男爵爵位。而他呢，则不失时机地自称为"彭眉胥上校男爵"。他只有一件旧蓝外套，每次出门他都要在上面别上荣誉军团的玫瑰形饰章。皇家检察官警告他，当局会因他"非法"佩戴这个勋章而起诉他。当这个警告通过一个多管闲事的中介人传达给他时，彭眉胥苦笑着回敬道："我不知道是我听不懂法语了，还是你们不再说法语了；但事实是，我一点儿也听不懂。"然后他连续八天佩戴着他的玫瑰花结出门。他们不敢干涉他。有两三次，陆军大臣和本省驻军司令写信给他，称呼是"彭眉胥少校先生"。他原封不动地把信退了回去。与此同时，圣赫勒拿岛的拿破仑也以同样的方式对待赫德森·洛爵士写给"波拿巴将军"的信函。彭眉胥最终——请允许我使用这个说法——嘴里含着的唾沫跟他的皇帝如出一辙。
同样，在罗马，有一些迦太基俘虏拒绝向弗拉米尼努斯致敬，他们身上多少有点汉尼拔的傲骨。
一天，他在韦尔农的一条街上遇到了检察官，便走上前去说："检察官先生，我可以戴着我的伤疤出门吗？"
他只有作为骑兵连连长那微薄的半薪。他在韦尔农租下了他能找到的最小的房子。他独自一人住在那儿，我们刚才已经看到了他的生活状况。在帝国时期，两次战争之间，他抽空娶了吉诺曼小姐。那位老市民，骨子里其实极其愤怒，但还是叹着气同意了，说道："连最显赫的家族都不得不屈就啊。"1815年，彭眉胥夫人——一位各方面都令人钦佩的女子，情操高尚，品性难得，配得上她的丈夫——去世了，留下了一个孩子。这个孩子是上校在孤寂中的欢乐；但是外祖父以不容商量的口吻要求要回这个外孙，声称如果孩子不给他，他就要剥夺他的继承权。父亲为了孩子的利益让步了，并把他的爱转移到了花儿上面。
此外，他放弃了一切，既不惹是生非，也不参与阴谋。他将自己的思绪分享给了他那时正在做的那些纯真的事情和他曾经做过的那些伟大事业。他的时光就在期待一朵石竹花的绽放或者回忆奥斯特里茨战役中度过。
吉诺曼先生和他的女婿没有任何联系。上校对他来说就是个"匪徒"。吉诺曼先生从不提及上校，除非偶尔带着嘲弄的语气提到"他那男爵爷"。双方明确约定，彭眉胥不得试图见他的儿子或与他说话，否则孩子将被送到他那里，但会剥夺继承权并断绝关系。对吉诺曼家来说，彭眉胥就是个沾染了瘟疫的人。他们打算按照自己的方式来抚养这个孩子。也许上校接受这些条件是错的，但他服从了，认为自己做得对，牺牲的只是他自己。
吉诺曼老爹的遗产不多；但吉诺曼大小姐的遗产却很可观。这位从未结婚的姑妈，从母系那边继承了一大笔财产，而她妹妹的儿子就是她的自然继承人。这个名叫马吕斯的男孩知道他有父亲，但也仅此而已。没有人对他提起过这件事。不过，在他外祖父带他出入的那个社交圈里，窃窃私语、暗示和眼色最终让这个男孩的心里明白了些什么；他终于多少理解了一些情况，而且，由于他自然而然地吸收了他所呼吸的空气中的那些思想和观点，通过某种渗透和缓慢的浸润，他渐渐地一想到他父亲就只感到羞耻和心痛。
就在他这样成长的过程中，上校每两三个月就偷偷溜一次，像一个违禁的罪犯一样秘密来到巴黎，在吉诺曼姑妈带马吕斯去做弥撒的时刻，到圣叙尔皮斯教堂守候。在那里，他躲在一根柱子后面，一动不动，大气都不敢出，生怕姑妈转过头来，注视着他的孩子。那位满身伤疤的老兵竟害怕那位老姑娘。
他与韦尔农的本堂神甫马伯夫先生的关系就是这样来的。
这位可敬的神甫的兄弟是圣叙尔皮斯教堂的一位管理员，他经常看见这个人在注视他的孩子，看见他脸上的伤疤和眼里大颗的泪珠。这个气概如此刚毅的男人，却像女人一样哭泣，这给管理员留下了深刻的印象。那个面孔一直印在他的脑海里。有一天，他去看望他在韦尔农的兄弟，在桥上遇到了彭眉胥上校，认出了他就是圣叙尔皮斯的那个男人。管理员把这事告诉了他的兄弟神甫，两人便找了个借口一起去拜访了上校。这次拜访引来了更多的拜访。一开始非常矜持的上校最终敞开了心扉，神甫和管理员终于知道了整个故事，知道了彭眉胥是如何为了孩子的未来牺牲自己的幸福。这使得神甫对他充满了崇敬和温情，而上校这边，也喜欢上了这位神甫。况且，当两个人都真诚善良时，没有比一个老神甫和一个老兵更能相互理解、相互融合的了。归根结底，他们是同一类人。一个将自己的一生奉献给了尘世的祖国，另一个则奉献给了天上的祖国；仅此而已。
每年两次，元旦和圣乔治节，马吕斯根据姑妈的吩咐，给父亲写一些尽义务的信，这些信像是从某个范本誊抄下来的；这是吉诺曼先生所能容忍的全部；父亲则用非常温情的信回复，而外祖父看也不看就把信塞进口袋里。
Any one who had chanced to pass through the little town of Vernon at
this epoch, and who had happened to walk across that fine monumental
bridge, which will soon be succeeded, let us hope, by some hideous iron
cable bridge, might have observed, had he dropped his eyes over the
parapet, a man about fifty years of age wearing a leather cap, and
trousers and a waistcoat of coarse gray cloth, to which something
yellow which had been a red ribbon, was sewn, shod with wooden sabots,
tanned by the sun, his face nearly black and his hair nearly white, a
large scar on his forehead which ran down upon his cheek, bowed, bent,
prematurely aged, who walked nearly every day, hoe and sickle in hand,
in one of those compartments surrounded by walls which abut on the
bridge, and border the left bank of the Seine like a chain of terraces,
charming enclosures full of flowers of which one could say, were they
much larger: “these are gardens,” and were they a little smaller:
“these are bouquets.” All these enclosures abut upon the river at one
end, and on a house at the other. The man in the waistcoat and the
wooden shoes of whom we have just spoken, inhabited the smallest of
these enclosures and the most humble of these houses about 1817. He
lived there alone and solitary, silently and poorly, with a woman who
was neither young nor old, neither homely nor pretty, neither a peasant
nor a bourgeoise, who served him. The plot of earth which he called his
garden was celebrated in the town for the beauty of the flowers which
he cultivated there. These flowers were his occupation.
By dint of labor, of perseverance, of attention, and of buckets of
water, he had succeeded in creating after the Creator, and he had
invented certain tulips and certain dahlias which seemed to have been
forgotten by nature. He was ingenious; he had forestalled Soulange
Bodin in the formation of little clumps of earth of heath mould, for
the cultivation of rare and precious shrubs from America and China. He
was in his alleys from the break of day, in summer, planting, cutting,
hoeing, watering, walking amid his flowers with an air of kindness,
sadness, and sweetness, sometimes standing motionless and thoughtful
for hours, listening to the song of a bird in the trees, the babble of
a child in a house, or with his eyes fixed on a drop of dew at the tip
of a spear of grass, of which the sun made a carbuncle. His table was
very plain, and he drank more milk than wine. A child could make him
give way, and his servant scolded him. He was so timid that he seemed
shy, he rarely went out, and he saw no one but the poor people who
tapped at his pane and his curé, the Abbé Mabeuf, a good old man.
Nevertheless, if the inhabitants of the town, or strangers, or any
chance comers, curious to see his tulips, rang at his little cottage,
he opened his door with a smile. He was the “brigand of the Loire.”
Any one who had, at the same time, read military memoirs, biographies,
the _Moniteur_, and the bulletins of the grand army, would have been
struck by a name which occurs there with tolerable frequency, the name
of Georges Pontmercy. When very young, this Georges Pontmercy had been
a soldier in Saintonge’s regiment. The revolution broke out.
Saintonge’s regiment formed a part of the army of the Rhine; for the
old regiments of the monarchy preserved their names of provinces even
after the fall of the monarchy, and were only divided into brigades in
1794. Pontmercy fought at Spire, at Worms, at Neustadt, at Turkheim, at
Alzey, at Mayence, where he was one of the two hundred who formed
Houchard’s rearguard. It was the twelfth to hold its ground against the
corps of the Prince of Hesse, behind the old rampart of Andernach, and
only rejoined the main body of the army when the enemy’s cannon had
opened a breach from the cord of the parapet to the foot of the glacis.
He was under Kléber at Marchiennes and at the battle of Mont-Palissel,
where a ball from a biscaïen broke his arm. Then he passed to the
frontier of Italy, and was one of the thirty grenadiers who defended
the Col de Tende with Joubert. Joubert was appointed its
adjutant-general, and Pontmercy sub-lieutenant. Pontmercy was by
Berthier’s side in the midst of the grape-shot of that day at Lodi
which caused Bonaparte to say: “Berthier has been cannoneer, cavalier,
and grenadier.” He beheld his old general, Joubert, fall at Novi, at
the moment when, with uplifted sabre, he was shouting: “Forward!”
Having been embarked with his company in the exigencies of the
campaign, on board a pinnace which was proceeding from Genoa to some
obscure port on the coast, he fell into a wasps’-nest of seven or eight
English vessels. The Genoese commander wanted to throw his cannon into
the sea, to hide the soldiers between decks, and to slip along in the
dark as a merchant vessel. Pontmercy had the colors hoisted to the
peak, and sailed proudly past under the guns of the British frigates.
Twenty leagues further on, his audacity having increased, he attacked
with his pinnace, and captured a large English transport which was
carrying troops to Sicily, and which was so loaded down with men and
horses that the vessel was sunk to the level of the sea. In 1805 he was
in that Malher division which took Günzberg from the Archduke
Ferdinand. At Weltingen he received into his arms, beneath a storm of
bullets, Colonel Maupetit, mortally wounded at the head of the 9th
Dragoons. He distinguished himself at Austerlitz in that admirable
march in echelons effected under the enemy’s fire. When the cavalry of
the Imperial Russian Guard crushed a battalion of the 4th of the line,
Pontmercy was one of those who took their revenge and overthrew the
Guard. The Emperor gave him the cross. Pontmercy saw Wurmser at Mantua,
Mélas, and Alexandria, Mack at Ulm, made prisoners in succession. He
formed a part of the eighth corps of the grand army which Mortier
commanded, and which captured Hamburg. Then he was transferred to the
55th of the line, which was the old regiment of Flanders. At Eylau he
was in the cemetery where, for the space of two hours, the heroic
Captain Louis Hugo, the uncle of the author of this book, sustained
alone with his company of eighty-three men every effort of the hostile
army. Pontmercy was one of the three who emerged alive from that
cemetery. He was at Friedland. Then he saw Moscow. Then La Bérésina,
then Lutzen, Bautzen, Dresden, Wachau, Leipzig, and the defiles of
Gelenhausen; then Montmirail, Château-Thierry, Craon, the banks of the
Marne, the banks of the Aisne, and the redoubtable position of Laon. At
Arnay-Le-Duc, being then a captain, he put ten Cossacks to the sword,
and saved, not his general, but his corporal. He was well slashed up on
this occasion, and twenty-seven splinters were extracted from his left
arm alone. Eight days before the capitulation of Paris he had just
exchanged with a comrade and entered the cavalry. He had what was
called under the old regime, _the double hand_, that is to say, an
equal aptitude for handling the sabre or the musket as a soldier, or a
squadron or a battalion as an officer. It is from this aptitude,
perfected by a military education, which certain special branches of
the service arise, the dragoons, for example, who are both cavalry-men
and infantry at one and the same time. He accompanied Napoleon to the
Island of Elba. At Waterloo, he was chief of a squadron of cuirassiers,
in Dubois’ brigade. It was he who captured the standard of the
Lunenburg battalion. He came and cast the flag at the Emperor’s feet.
He was covered with blood. While tearing down the banner he had
received a sword-cut across his face. The Emperor, greatly pleased,
shouted to him: “You are a colonel, you are a baron, you are an officer
of the Legion of Honor!” Pontmercy replied: “Sire, I thank you for my
widow.” An hour later, he fell in the ravine of Ohain. Now, who was
this Georges Pontmercy? He was this same “brigand of the Loire.”
