第一百九十章 第三章 春天的影响
第三章 春天的影响
一天，空气温暖，卢森堡公园里光影交织，天空纯净得仿佛天使在清晨洗过一般，麻雀在栗树深处啁啾鸣叫。马吕斯向大自然敞开了整个心灵，他什么也不想，只是单纯地活着，呼吸着。他走近那条长凳，年轻姑娘抬眼看他，两道目光相遇了。
这一次，年轻姑娘的目光里含着什么？马吕斯说不清。那是什么都没有，又什么都有。那是一道奇异的闪光。
她垂下眼睛，他继续走他的路。
他刚才看见的，不再是孩子那天真单纯的眼神；那是一个神秘的深渊，半开半合，又骤然关闭。
总有一天，年轻姑娘会这样看人。谁碰巧在那里，谁就有祸了！
灵魂第一次的目光，它还不认识自己，就像天上的曙光。那是某种灿烂而陌生的事物的觉醒。对于那突然从可敬的阴影中隐约闪现的光芒，没有任何词语能描述它的危险魅力；它既包含着当下的全部纯真，也包含着未来的全部激情。这是一种偶然显露、尚在等待的、犹豫不决的柔情。这是天真少女不知不觉设下的陷阱，她在其中俘获人心，却既无意也毫不知情。这是一个像女人一样的处女。
那道目光落下的地方，极少不引出深刻的遐想。一切纯洁与无邪都汇合在这道既神圣又致命的光芒中；它比卖弄风情者所有精心设计的温柔眼波更具有魔力，能使灵魂深处骤然绽放出那朵浸透着芳香与毒液的阴郁之花——爱情。
那天晚上，马吕斯回到他的阁楼，低头看了看自己的衣服，第一次意识到自己刚才竟如此邋遢、失礼、愚蠢得不可思议——穿着他的“日常衣服”去卢森堡公园散步：一顶帽檐边已磨损的帽子，粗笨的马车夫靴子，膝盖处泛白的黑裤子，肘部褪色的黑上衣。
One day, the air was warm, the Luxembourg was inundated with light and
shade, the sky was as pure as though the angels had washed it that
morning, the sparrows were giving vent to little twitters in the depths
of the chestnut-trees. Marius had thrown open his whole soul to nature,
he was not thinking of anything, he simply lived and breathed, he
passed near the bench, the young girl raised her eyes to him, the two
glances met.
What was there in the young girl’s glance on this occasion? Marius
could not have told. There was nothing and there was everything. It was
a strange flash.
She dropped her eyes, and he pursued his way.
What he had just seen was no longer the ingenuous and simple eye of a
child; it was a mysterious gulf which had half opened, then abruptly
closed again.
There comes a day when the young girl glances in this manner. Woe to
him who chances to be there!
That first gaze of a soul which does not, as yet, know itself, is like
the dawn in the sky. It is the awakening of something radiant and
strange. Nothing can give any idea of the dangerous charm of that
unexpected gleam, which flashes suddenly and vaguely forth from
adorable shadows, and which is composed of all the innocence of the
present, and of all the passion of the future. It is a sort of
undecided tenderness which reveals itself by chance, and which waits.
It is a snare which the innocent maiden sets unknown to herself, and in
which she captures hearts without either wishing or knowing it. It is a
virgin looking like a woman.
It is rare that a profound reverie does not spring from that glance,
where it falls. All purities and all candors meet in that celestial and
fatal gleam which, more than all the best-planned tender glances of
coquettes, possesses the magic power of causing the sudden blossoming,
in the depths of the soul, of that sombre flower, impregnated with
perfume and with poison, which is called love.
That evening, on his return to his garret, Marius cast his eyes over
his garments, and perceived, for the first time, that he had been so
slovenly, indecorous, and inconceivably stupid as to go for his walk in
the Luxembourg with his “every-day clothes,” that is to say, with a hat
battered near the band, coarse carter’s boots, black trousers which
showed white at the knees, and a black coat which was pale at the
elbows.
