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condensed novels-第17部分

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I instantly changed my tactics; and endeavored to embrace him。  He
kicked me twice; violently。  I begged permission to kiss madame's
hand。  He replied by throwing me down stairs。

I am in bed with my head bound up; and beef…steaks upon my eyes;
but still confident and buoyant。  I have not lost faith in
Macchiavelli。  Tra la la! as they sing in the opera。  I kiss
everybody's hands。


CHAPTER V。

DR。 DIGGS'S STATEMENT。


My name is David Diggs。  I am a surgeon; living at No。 9 Tottenham
Court。  On the 15th of June; 1854; I was called to see an elderly
gentleman lodging on the Kent Road。  Found him highly excited; with
strong febrile symptoms; pulse 120; increasing。  Repeated
incoherently what I judged to be the popular form of a conundrum。
On closer examination found acute hydrocephalus and both lobes of
the brain rapidly filling with water。  In consultation with an
eminent phrenologist; it was further discovered that all the organs
were more or less obliterated; except that of Comparison。  Hence
the patient was enabled to only distinguish the most common points
of resemblance between objects; without drawing upon other
faculties; such as Ideality or Language; for assistance。  Later in
the day found him sinking;being evidently unable to carry the
most ordinary conundrum to a successful issue。  Exhibited Tinct。
Val。; Ext。 Opii; and Camphor; and prescribed quiet and emollients。
On the 17th the patient was missing。


CHAPTER LAST。

STATEMENT OF THE PUBLISHER。


On the 18th of June; Mr。 Wilkie Collins left a roll of manuscript
with us for publication; without title or direction; since which
time he has not been heard from。  In spite of the care of the
proof…readers; and valuable literary assistance; it is feared that
the continuity of the story has been destroyed by some accidental
misplacing of chapters during its progress。  How and what chapters
are so misplaced; the publisher leaves to an indulgent public to
discover。



N N。

BEING A NOVEL IN THE FRENCH PARAGRAPHIC STYLE。


Mademoiselle; I swear to you that I love you。

You who read these pages。  You who turn your burning eyes upon
these wordswords that I trace  Ah; Heaven! the thought maddens
me。

I will be calm。  I will imitate the reserve of the festive
Englishman; who wears a spotted handkerchief which he calls a
Belchio; who eats biftek; and caresses a bulldog。  I will subdue
myself like him。

Ha!  Poto…beer!  All rightGoddam!

Or; I will conduct myself as the free…born Americanthe gay
Brother Jonathan!  I will whittle me a stick。  I will whistle to
myself 〃Yankee Doodle;〃 and forget my passion in excessive
expectoration。

Hoho!wake snakes and walk chalks。


The world is divided into two great divisions;Paris and the
provinces。  There is but one Paris。  There are several provinces;
among which may be numbered England; America; Russia; and Italy。

N N。 was a Parisian。

But N N。 did not live in Paris。  Drop a Parisian in the provinces;
and you drop a part of Paris with him。  Drop him in Senegambia; and
in three days he will give you an omelette soufflee; or a pate de
foie gras; served by the neatest of Senegambian filles; whom he
will call Mademoiselle。  In three weeks he will give you an opera。

N N。 was not dropped in Senegambia; but in San Francisco;quite as
awkward。

They find gold in San Francisco; but they don't understand gilding。

N N。 existed three years in this place。  He became bald on the top
of his head; as all Parisians do。  Look down from your box at the
Opera Comique; Mademoiselle; and count the bald crowns of the fast
young men in the pit。  Ahyou tremble!  They show where the arrows
of love have struck and glanced off。

N N。 was also near…sighted; as all Parisians finally become。  This
is a gallant provision of Nature to spare them the mortification of
observing that their lady friends grow old。  After a certain age
every woman is handsome to a Parisian。

One day; N N。 was walking down Washington street。  Suddenly he
stopped。

He was standing before the door of a mantuamaker。  Beside the
counter; at the farther extremity of the shop; stood a young and
elegantly formed woman。  Her face was turned from N N。  He entered。
With a plausible excuse; and seeming indifference; he gracefully
opened conversation with the mantuamaker as only a Parisian can。
But he had to deal with a Parisian。  His attempts to view the
features of the fair stranger by the counter were deftly combated
by the shop…woman。  He was obliged to retire。

N N。 went home and lost his appetite。  He was haunted by the
elegant basque and graceful shoulders of the fair unknown; during
the whole night。

The next day he sauntered by the mantuamaker。  Ah! Heavens!  A
thrill ran through his frame; and his fingers tingled with a
delicious electricity。  The fair inconnue was there!  He raised his
hat gracefully。  He was not certain; but he thought that a slight
motion of her faultless bonnet betrayed recognition。  He would have
wildly darted into the shop; but just then the figure of the
mantuamaker appeared in the doorway。

Did Monsieur wish anything?

Misfortune!  Desperation。  N N。 purchased a bottle of Prussic acid;
a sack of charcoal; and a quire of pink note…paper; and returned
home。  He wrote a letter of farewell to the closely fitting basque;
and opened the bottle of Prussic acid。

Some one knocked at his door。  It was a Chinaman; with his weekly
linen。

These Chinese are docile; but not intelligent。  They are ingenious;
but not creative。  They are cunning in expedients; but deficient in
tact。  In love they are simply barbarous。  They purchase their
wives openly; and not constructively by attorney。  By offering
small sums for their sweethearts; they degrade the value of the
sex。

Nevertheless; N N。 felt he was saved。  He explained all to the
faithful Mongolian; and exhibited the letter he had written。  He
implored him to deliver it。

The Mongolian assented。  The race are not cleanly or sweet…savored;
but N N。 fell upon his neck。  He embraced him with one hand; and
closed his nostrils with the other。  Through him; he felt he
clasped the close…fitting basque。

The next day was one of agony and suspense。  Evening came; but no
Mercy。  N N。 lit the charcoal。  But; to compose his nerves; he
closed his door and first walked mildly up and down Montgomery
Steeet。  When he returned; he found the faithful Mongolian on the
steps。

All lity!

These Chinese are not accurate in their pronunciation。  They avoid
the r; like the English nobleman。

N N。 gasped for breath。  He leaned heavily against the Chinaman。

Then you have seen her; Ching Long?

Yes。  All lity。  She cum。  Top side of house。

The docile barbarian pointed up the stairs; and chuckled。

She hereimpossible!  Ah; Heaven! do I dream?

Yes。  All lity;top side of house。  Good by; John。

This is the familiar parting epithet of the Mongolian。  It is
equivalent to our au revoir。

N N。 gazed with a stupefied air on the departing servant。

He placed his hand on his throbbing heart。  She here;alone
beneath this roof。  O Heavens; what happiness!

But how?  Torn from her home。  Ruthlessly dragged; perhaps; from
her evening devotions; by the hands of a relentless barbarian。
Could she forgive him?

He dashed frantically up the stairs。  He opened the door。  She was
standing beside his couch with averted face。

A strange giddiness overtook him。  He sank upon his knees at the
threshold。

Pardon; pardon。  My angel; can you forgive me?

A terrible nausea now seemed added to the fearful giddiness。  His
utterance grew thick and sluggish。

Speak; speak; enchantress。  Forgiveness is all I ask。  My Love;
my Life!

She did not answer。  He staggered to his feet。  As he rose; his
eyes fell on the pan of burning charcoal。  A terrible suspicion
flashed across his mind。  This giddiness;this nausea。  The
ignorance of the barbarian。  This silence。  O merciful heavens! she
was dying!

He crawled toward her。  He touched her。  She fell forward with a
lifeless sound upon the floor。  He uttered a piercing shriek; and
threw himself beside her。

          *          *          *          *         *

A file of gendarmes; accompanied by the Chef Burke; found him the
next morning lying lifeless upon the floor。  They laughed
brutally;these cruel minions of the law;and disengaged his arm
from the waist of the wooden dummy which they had come to reclaim
for the mantuamaker。

Emptying a few bucketfuls of water over his form; they finally
succeeded in robbing him; not only of his mistress; but of that
Death he had coveted without her。

Ah! we live in a strange world; Messieurs。



FANTINE。

AFTER THE FRENCH OF VICTOR HUGO。


PROLOGUE。


As long as there shall exist three paradoxes; a moral Frenchman; a
religious Atheist; and a believing sceptic; so long; in fact; as
booksellers shall waitsay twenty…five yearsfor a new gospel; so
long as paper shall remain cheap and ink three sous a bottle; I
have no hesitation in saying that such books as these are not
utterly profitless。

VICTOR HUGO。


I。


To be good is to be queer。  What is a good man?  Bishop Myriel。

My friend; you will possibly object to this。  You will say you know
what a good man is。  Perhaps you will say your clergyman is a good
man; for instance。

Bah! you are mistaken; you are an Englishman; and an Englishman is
a beast。

Englishmen think they are moral when they are only serious。  These
Englishmen also wear ill…shaped hats; and dress horribly!

Bah! they are canaille。

Still; Bishop Myriel was a good man;quite as good as you。  Better
than you; in fact。

One day M。 Myriel was in Paris。  This angel used to walk about the
streets like any other man。  He was not proud; though fine…looking。
Well; three gamins de Paris called him bad names。  Says one:

〃Ah; mon Dieu! there goes a priest; look out for your eggs and
chickens!〃

What did this good man do?  He called to them kindly。

〃My children;〃 said he; 〃this is clearly not your fault。  I
recognize in this insult and irreverence only the fault of your
immediate progenitors。  Let us pray for your immediate
progenitors。〃

They knelt

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