第二〇二章 第二章 地窖里的财宝
第二章 地窖里的财宝
马吕斯仍住在戈尔博老屋里，对其他人一概不理。
其实，那时期那栋房子里除了他和容德雷特一家之外，已没有别的房客。他曾替他们付过一次房租，但从未与那家的父亲、母亲或女儿们说过话。其他房客不是搬走了，就是死了，或是因欠租被撵走了。
那年冬季的一天，下午的阳光稍稍露了露脸，但那天是二月二日，古老的圣烛节，这种骗人的阳光正是随后六个星期寒潮的先兆，马蒂厄·朗斯贝格为此写下了两句诗，确实堪称经典：
不管它出不出太阳，
狗熊还是躲进洞房。①
马吕斯刚刚从自己的洞里出来。天色已晚，到了吃晚饭的时候。唉，他还不得不重新开始吃饭。情欲的空想真是脆弱啊！
他刚跨出门槛，正好碰到布贡大妈在扫地，她一边扫地一边说着这段令人难忘的独白：
“现在还有什么便宜的东西？什么都贵。世上只有一样东西便宜，那就是烦恼。烦恼不要钱，世上的烦恼！”
马吕斯慢慢沿着大路向城关走去，要到圣雅克街去。他低着头走着。
忽然，在暮色中他感到有人撞了他一下。他转过身，看见两个穿得破破烂烂的年轻姑娘，一个高挑清瘦，另一个稍矮些，两人气喘吁吁地匆匆跑过，神色惊慌，像是逃跑的样子。她们迎面跑来，没看见他，擦身而过时撞了他一下。在朦胧的暮色中，马吕斯看见她们脸色青灰，披头散发，戴着不成样的帽子，穿着破烂的裙子，赤着脚。她们边跑边说着话。高个子低声说：
“警察来了，差点在圆形拱门那里抓住我。”
另一个回答说：“我看见他们了。我跑啊，跑啊，跑啊！”
透过这些粗俗的黑话，马吕斯明白警察或巡警几乎抓住了这两个孩子，她们逃了出来。
她们钻到马路后面他身后的树丛中，在黑暗里隐隐约约地形成了一个模糊的白点，然后消失了。
马吕斯停了一会儿。
他正要继续前行，目光落在一个灰色的小纸包上，那是掉在他脚下的地上。他弯腰捡了起来。那像是信封，里面似乎有纸。
“好，”他心想，“是那两个可怜的女孩丢的。”
他转身往回走，喊她们，但没有找到。他想她们一定已经走远了，便把纸包放进口袋，吃饭去了。
在路上，他在穆夫达街的一条小巷里，看到一口用黑布盖着的棺材，搁在三把椅子上，点着一支蜡烛。暮色中那两个女孩的身影又浮现在他脑海里。
“可怜的母亲们！”他想，“看到自己的孩子死去，还不是最可悲的事，更可悲的是看到他们走上邪路。”
接着，那些给他忧郁心情带来变化的阴影便从他思绪中消失了，他又重新陷入了平日的心事之中。他又开始思念他在卢森堡公园树荫下、在露天和阳光中度过的六个月爱情和幸福。
“我的生活变得多么阴沉啊！”他自言自语道，“年轻姑娘总是出现在我眼前，可是从前她们是天使，现在她们是恶魔。”
① 原文是古法语。
Marius had not left the Gorbeau house. He paid no attention to any one
there.
At that epoch, to tell the truth, there were no other inhabitants in
the house, except himself and those Jondrettes whose rent he had once
paid, without, moreover, ever having spoken to either father, mother,
or daughters. The other lodgers had moved away or had died, or had been
turned out in default of payment.
One day during that winter, the sun had shown itself a little in the
afternoon, but it was the 2d of February, that ancient Candlemas day
whose treacherous sun, the precursor of a six weeks’ cold spell,
inspired Mathieu Laensberg with these two lines, which have with
justice remained classic:—
Qu’il luise ou qu’il luiserne,
L’ours rentre dans en sa caverne.26
Marius had just emerged from his: night was falling. It was the hour
for his dinner; for he had been obliged to take to dining again, alas!
oh, infirmities of ideal passions!
He had just crossed his threshold, where Ma’am Bougon was sweeping at
the moment, as she uttered this memorable monologue:—
“What is there that is cheap now? Everything is dear. There is nothing
in the world that is cheap except trouble; you can get that for
nothing, the trouble of the world!”
Marius slowly ascended the boulevard towards the barrier, in order to
reach the Rue Saint-Jacques. He was walking along with drooping head.
All at once, he felt some one elbow him in the dusk; he wheeled round,
and saw two young girls clad in rags, the one tall and slim, the other
a little shorter, who were passing rapidly, all out of breath, in
terror, and with the appearance of fleeing; they had been coming to
meet him, had not seen him, and had jostled him as they passed. Through
the twilight, Marius could distinguish their livid faces, their wild
heads, their dishevelled hair, their hideous bonnets, their ragged
petticoats, and their bare feet. They were talking as they ran. The
taller said in a very low voice:—
“The bobbies have come. They came near nabbing me at the half-circle.”
The other answered: “I saw them. I bolted, bolted, bolted!”
Through this repulsive slang, Marius understood that gendarmes or the
police had come near apprehending these two children, and that the
latter had escaped.
They plunged among the trees of the boulevard behind him, and there
created, for a few minutes, in the gloom, a sort of vague white spot,
then disappeared.
Marius had halted for a moment.
He was about to pursue his way, when his eye lighted on a little
grayish package lying on the ground at his feet. He stooped and picked
it up. It was a sort of envelope which appeared to contain papers.
“Good,” he said to himself, “those unhappy girls dropped it.”
He retraced his steps, he called, he did not find them; he reflected
that they must already be far away, put the package in his pocket, and
went off to dine.
On the way, he saw in an alley of the Rue Mouffetard, a child’s coffin,
covered with a black cloth resting on three chairs, and illuminated by
a candle. The two girls of the twilight recurred to his mind.
“Poor mothers!” he thought. “There is one thing sadder than to see
one’s children die; it is to see them leading an evil life.”
Then those shadows which had varied his melancholy vanished from his
thoughts, and he fell back once more into his habitual preoccupations.
He fell to thinking once more of his six months of love and happiness
in the open air and the broad daylight, beneath the beautiful trees of
Luxembourg.
“How gloomy my life has become!” he said to himself. “Young girls are
always appearing to me, only formerly they were angels and now they are
ghouls.”
