Justine 淑女的眼泪 Chapter 56

Upon returning to our inn I explained as best I could the history of this unfortunate acquaintance; but whether my companion was not at all satisfied by what I told her, or whether she may perhaps have been exceedingly annoyed by my virtuous¹ performance which deprived her of an adventure wherefrom she might have earned much, she waggled her tongue, the effects of which were only too plainly revealed by Bertrand's remarks upon the occasion of the deplorable catastrophe² I am going to relate to you in a moment; however, the monk³ never did reappear, and we left Lyon.

 

Having quit the city late, we could get no further than Villefranche that day, and there we stopped for the night; 'twas in that town, Madame, there took place the horrible event which today causes me to appear before you in a criminal guise⁴, although I was no more a malefactor⁵ in that one of my life's fateful circumstances than in any other of those where you have observed me so unjustly assaulted by the blows of fate; and as in many another instance, so this time I was flung into the abyss by nothing other than the goodness of my heart and the wickedness of men.

 

Having made Villefranche toward six o'clock in the evening, we supped in haste and retired⁶ directly, that we might be able to undertake a longer stage on the morrow; we had not been two hours in bed when a dreadful smell of smoke roused us from sleep; convinced the flames are near at hand, we get instantly from bed. Just Heaven! the havoc⁷ wrought⁸ by the fire was already but too frightful⁹; half-naked, we open our door and all around us hear nothing but the fracas¹⁰ of collapsing¹¹ walls, the noise of burning timbers and woodwork and the shrieks¹² of those who had fallen into the blaze; surrounded by devouring¹³ flames we have no idea in which direction to run; to escape their violence, we rush past them and soon find ourselves lost in a milling crush of wretches¹⁴ who, like ourselves, are seeking salvation¹⁵ in flight; at this point I remember that my conductress, more concerned for her own than for her child's safety, has not thought of preserving it from death; without a word to the woman, I fly to our chamber¹⁶, having to pass through the conflagration¹⁷ and to sustain burns in several places: I snatch up the poor little creature, spring forward to restore her to her mother: I advance along a half-consumed beam, miss my footing, instinctively¹⁸ thrust out my hands, this natural reflex forces me to release the precious burden in my arms... it slips from my grasp and the unlucky child falls into the inferno¹⁹ before its own mother's eyes; at this instant I am myself seized... carried away; too upset to be able to distinguish anything, I am unaware²⁰ whether 'tis aid or peril²¹ which surrounds me but, to my grief, I am but too fully²² enlightened when, flung into a post chaise, I discover myself beside Dubois who, clapping a pistol to my head, threatens to blow out my brains if I utter a syllable²³...

 

"Ah, little villain²⁴," says she, "I've got you now and this time for good."

 

"Oh, Madame! you?" I exclaim. "Here?"

 

"Everything that has just transpired²⁵ is my doing," the monster replies, " 'twas by arson²⁶ I saved your life; and by a fire you're going to lose it: in order to catch you I'd have followed you to Hell had it been necessary. Monseigneur was furious, believe me, when he found out you had escaped; I get two hundred louis for every girl I procure²⁷ him, and not only did he not want to pay me for Eulalie, but he menaced me with all his anger could produce were I to fail to bring you back. I discovered I'd missed you by two hours at Lyon; yesterday I reached Villefranche an hour after your arrival, I had the hotel burned by the henchmen I always have in my employ, I wanted to incinerate you or get you back; I've got you, I m returning you to a house your flight has plunged²⁸ into trouble and unquiet, and I'm taking you there, Therese, to be treated in a cruel manner. Monseigneur swore he'd not have tortures terrible enough for you, and we'll not step from this carriage until we are at his seat. Well, Therese, what is your present opinion of Virtue²⁹ ?"

 

"Oh, Madame! that it is very frequently crime's prey³⁰; that it is happy when triumphant³¹; but that it ought to be the unique object of the Heavenly God's rewards even though human atrocities³² bring about its downfall upon earth."

 

"You've not long to wait before you know, Therese, whether there is really a God who punishes or recompenses the deeds of mortals.... Ah! if, in the eternal inexistence you are shortly going to enter, if 'twere possible to cogitate³³ in that state of annihilation, how much you would regret the fruitless sacrifices your inflexible³⁴ stubbornness has forced you to make to phantoms³⁶ who have never doled³⁷ out any but the wages of sorrow.... Therese, there is yet time left to you: if you wish to be my accomplice³⁸ I'll save you, for, I avow³⁹, 'tis more than I can bear to see you break down ever and ever again upon Virtue's routes all beset⁴⁰ by perils⁴¹. What? are you not yet sufficiently⁴² punished for your good behavior and false principles? What kind of misery⁴³ do you have to know in order to be persuaded to mend your ways? What then are the examples you require in order to be convinced the attitude you have adopted is the worst of all and that, as I have told you a hundred times over, one must expect nothing but calamity⁴⁴ when, breasting the crowd's headlong stampede, one wishes to be virtuous and alone in a completely corrupt⁴⁵ society. You count upon an avenging⁴⁶ God; cease to be a gull⁴⁷, Therese, disabuse⁴⁸ yourself, the God you fabricate for yourself is but a fiction whose stupid existence is never found elsewhere but in the heads of the crazed; 'tis a phantom³⁵ invented by human wickedness; the solitary⁴⁹ purpose of this illusion is to deceive mankind or to create armed divisions among men. The service it were possible to render humankind would have been instantly to cut the throat of the first impostor who took it into his head to speak of God to men. How much blood that one murder would have spared the universe! Get on, get on with you, Therese, perpetually active Nature, Nature acting⁵⁰ always, has no need of a master for her government. And if indeed this master did exist, after all the faults and sins with which he has stuffed creation, would he, think you, would he merit anything from us but scorn and outrage⁵¹? Ah, if he exists, your God, how I do hate him! Therese, how I abhor⁵² him! Yes, were this existence authentic⁵³, I affirm that the mere⁵⁴ pleasure of perpetually irritating whatever I found that bore his impress or bespoke⁵⁵ his touch would become for me the most precious compensation for the necessity in which I would find myself to acknowledge some belief in him.... Once again, Therese, do you wish to become my confederate? A superb possibility presents itself, with courage we can execute the thing; I'll save your life if you'll undertake it. This Monseigneur to whose house we are going, and whom you know, lives alone in the country house where he gives his parties; their species, with which you are familiar, requires isolation⁵⁶; a single valet lives with him when he takes up residence there for the sake of his pleasures: the man riding ahead of the coach, you and I, dear girl, that's three of us against two; when that libertine⁵⁷ is inflamed⁵⁸ by his lecheries⁵⁹, I'll snatch away the saber with which he decapitates his victims, you'll hold him, we'll kill him, and meanwhile my man will have done in the valet. There's money hidden in that house; more than eight hundred thousand francs, Therese, I'm sure of it, the thing's well worth the trouble... Choose, clever creature, decide: death or an alliance; if you betray me, if you expose my plan to him, I'll accuse you of having contrived⁶⁰ it alone, and don't doubt for a moment that the confidence he has always had in me will tip the balance my way... think carefully before you give me your answer: this man is a villain; hence, by assassinating⁶¹ him we merely aid the law whose rigorous treatment he deserves. A day does not go by, Therese, without this rascal⁶² murdering a girl; is it then to outrage Virtue by punishing Crime? And does the reasonable proposition I make you still alarm your wild principles?"

 

"Be certain of it, Madame," I answered; "it is not with object of chastening crime you propose this deed, it is rather with the sole intention of committing one yourself; consequently there cannot be but great evil in doing what you suggest, and no semblance⁶³ of legitimacy⁶⁴ can appear thereupon; better still, even were you to intend to avenge⁶⁵ humanity for this man's horrors, you would still be committing evil by doing so, for this is not a problem which concerns you: there are laws decreed to punish the guilty; let those laws take their course, it is not unto our feeble hands the Supreme⁶⁶ Being has entrusted⁶⁷ their sword, never might we wield⁶⁸ that blade without affronting⁶⁹ justice."

 

"Well, then you'll have to die, worthless creature," retorted the furious Dubois, "you'll die; don't tease yourself with hopes of escaping your fate."

 

"What matters it to me?" I calmly answered, "I shall be delivered of all the ills that assail⁷⁰ me; death holds no terrors for me, 'tis life's last sleep, 'tis the downtrodden's haven⁷¹ of repose⁷²...."

 

And, upon these words, that savage⁷³ beast sprang at me, I thought she was going to strangle me; she struck several blows upon my breast, but released me, however, immediately I cried out, for she feared lest the postilion hear me.

 

We were moving along at a brisk pace; the man who was riding ahead arranged for new horses and we stopped only long enough to change teams. As the new pair was being harnessed, Dubois suddenly raised her weapon and clapped it to my heart... what was she about to do?... Indeed, my exhaustion⁷⁴ and my situation had beaten me down to the point of preferring death to the ordeal⁷⁵ of keeping it at bay.

 

We were then preparing to enter Dauphine, of a sudden six horsemen, galloping⁷⁶ at top speed behind our coach, overtook it and, with drawn⁷⁷ cutlasses, forced our driver to halt. Thirty feet off the highway was a cottage to which these cavaliers, whom we soon identified as constables⁷⁸, ordered the driver to lead the carriage; when we were alongside it, we were told to get out, and all three of us entered the peasant's dwelling⁷⁹. With an effrontery⁸⁰ unthinkable in a woman soiled with unnumbered crimes, Dubois who found herself arrested, archly demanded of these officers whether she were known to them, and with what right they comported⁸¹ themselves thus with a woman of her rank.

分享到：