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雨果 悲惨世界 英文版2-第9部分

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out and felt his happiness increase with the happiness which he afforded Cosette。
  The joy which we inspire has this charming property; that; far from growing meagre; like all reflections; it returns to us more radiant than ever。 At recreation hours; Jean Valjean watched her running and playing in the distance; and he distinguished her laugh from that of the rest。
  For Cosette laughed now。
  Cosette's face had even undergone a change; to a certain extent。 The gloom had disappeared from it。
  A smile is the same as sunshine; it banishes winter from the human countenance。
  Recreation over; when Cosette went into the house again; Jean Valjean gazed at the windows of her class…room; and at night he rose to look at the windows of her dormitory。
  God has his own ways; moreover; the convent contributed; like Cosette; to uphold and plete the Bishop's work in Jean Valjean。
  It is certain that virtue adjoins pride on one side。
  A bridge built by the devil exists there。
  Jean Valjean had been; unconsciously; perhaps; tolerably near that side and that bridge; when Providence cast his lot in the convent of the Petit…Picpus; so long as he had pared himself only to the Bishop; he had regarded himself as unworthy and had remained humble; but for some time past he had been paring himself to men in general; and pride was beginning to spring up。 Who knows?
  He might have ended by returning very gradually to hatred。
  The convent stopped him on that downward path。
  This was the second place of captivity which he had seen。 In his youth; in what had been for him the beginning of his life; and later on; quite recently again; he had beheld another; a frightful place; a terrible place; whose severities had always appeared to him the iniquity of justice; and the crime of the law。 Now; after the galleys; he saw the cloister; and when he meditated how he had formed a part of the galleys; and that he now; so to speak; was a spectator of the cloister; he confronted the two in his own mind with anxiety。
  Sometimes he crossed his arms and leaned on his hoe; and slowly descended the endless spirals of revery。
  He recalled his former panions:
  how wretched they were; they rose at dawn; and toiled until night; hardly were they permitted to sleep; they lay on camp beds; where nothing was tolerated but mattresses two inches thick; in rooms which were heated only in the very harshest months of the year; they were clothed in frightful red blouses; they were allowed; as a great favor; linen trousers in the hottest weather; and a woollen carter's blouse on their backs when it was very cold; they drank no wine; and ate no meat; except when they went on 〃fatigue duty。〃
  They lived nameless; designated only by numbers; and converted; after a manner; into ciphers themselves; with downcast eyes; with lowered voices; with shorn heads; beneath the cudgel and in disgrace。
  Then his mind reverted to the beings whom he had under his eyes。
  These beings also lived with shorn heads; with downcast eyes; with lowered voices; not in disgrace; but amid the scoffs of the world; not with their backs bruised with the cudgel; but with their shoulders lacerated with their discipline。
  Their names; also; had vanished from among men; they no longer existed except under austere appellations。 They never ate meat and they never drank wine; they often remained until evening without food; they were attired; not in a red blouse; but in a black shroud; of woollen; which was heavy in summer and thin in winter; without the power to add or subtract anything from it; without having even; according to the season; the resource of the linen garment or the woollen cloak; and for six months in the year they wore serge chemises which gave them fever。
  They dwelt; not in rooms warmed only during rigorous cold; but in cells where no fire was ever lighted; they slept; not on mattresses two inches thick; but on straw。
  And finally; they were not even allowed their sleep; every night; after a day of toil; they were obliged; in the weariness of their first slumber; at the moment when they were falling sound asleep and beginning to get warm; to rouse themselves; to rise and to go and pray in an ice…cold and gloomy chapel; with their knees on the stones。
  On certain days each of these beings in turn had to remain for twelve successive hours in a kneeling posture; or prostrate; with face upon the pavement; and arms outstretched in the form of a cross。
  The others were men; these were women。
  What had those men done?
  They had stolen; violated; pillaged; murdered; assassinated。
  They were bandits; counterfeiters; poisoners; incendiaries; murderers; parricides。
  What had these women done?
  They had done nothing whatever。
  On the one hand; highway robbery; fraud; deceit; violence; sensuality; homicide; all sorts of sacrilege; every variety of crime; on the other; one thing only; innocence。
  Perfect innocence; almost caught up into heaven in a mysterious assumption; attached to the earth by virtue; already possessing something of heaven through holiness。
  On the one hand; confidences over crimes; which are exchanged in whispers; on the other; the confession of faults made aloud。 And what crimes!
  And what faults!
  On the one hand; miasms; on the other; an ineffable perfume。 On the one hand; a moral pest; guarded from sight; penned up under the range of cannon; and literally devouring its plague…stricken victims; on the other; the chaste flame of all souls on the same hearth。 There; darkness; here; the shadow; but a shadow filled with gleams of light; and of gleams full of radiance。
  Two strongholds of slavery; but in the first; deliverance possible; a legal limit always in sight; and then; escape。
  In the second; perpetuity; the sole hope; at the distant extremity of the future; that faint light of liberty which men call death。
  In the first; men are bound only with chains; in the other; chained by faith。
  What flowed from the first?
  An immense curse; the gnashing of teeth; hatred; desperate viciousness; a cry of rage against human society; a sarcasm against heaven。
  What results flowed from the second?
  Blessings and love。
  And in these two places; so similar yet so unlike; these two species of beings who were so very unlike; were undergoing the same work; expiation。
  Jean Valjean understood thoroughly the expiation of the former; that personal expiation; the expiation for one's self。
  But he did not understand that of these last; that of creatures without reproach and without stain; and he trembled as he asked himself: The expiation of what?
  What expiation?
  A voice within his conscience replied:
  〃The most divine of human generosities; the expiation for others。〃
  Here all personal theory is withheld; we are only the narrator; we place ourselves at Jean Valjean's point of view; and we translate his impressions。
  Before his eyes he had the sublime summit of abnegation; the highest possible pitch of virtue; the innocence which pardons men their faults; and which expiates in their stead; servitude submitted to; torture accepted; punishment claimed by souls which have not sinned; for the sake of sparing it to souls which have fallen; the love of humanity swallowed up in the love of God; but even there preserving its distinct and mediatorial character; sweet and feeble beings possessing the misery of those who are punished and the smile of those who are repensed。
  And he remembered that he had dared to murmur!
  Often; in the middle of the night; he rose to listen to the grateful song of those innocent creatures weighed down with severities; and the blood ran cold in his veins at the thought that those who were justly chastised raised their voices heavenward only in blasphemy; and that he; wretch that he was; had shaken his fist at God。
  There was one striking thing which caused him to meditate deeply; like a warning whisper from Providence itself:
  the scaling of that wall; the passing of those barriers; the adventure accepted even at the risk of death; the painful and difficult ascent; all those efforts even; which he had made to escape from that other place of expiation; he had made in order to gain entrance into this one。
  Was this a symbol of his destiny?
  This house was a prison likewise and bore a melancholy resemblance to that other one whence he had fled; and yet he had never conceived an idea of anything similar。
  Again he beheld gratings; bolts; iron barsto guard whom?
  Angels。
  These lofty walls which he had seen around tigers; he now beheld once more around lambs。
  This was a place of expiation; and not of punishment; and yet; it was still more austere; more gloomy; and more pitiless than the other。
  These virgins were even more heavily burdened than the convicts。 A cold; harsh wind; that wind which had chilled his youth; traversed the barred and padlocked grating of the vultures; a still harsher and more biting breeze blew in the cage of these doves。
  Why?
  When he thought on these things; all that was within him was lost in amazement before this mystery of sublimity。
  In these meditations; his pride vanished。
  He scrutinized his own heart in all manner of ways; he felt his pettiness; and many a time he wept。
  All that had entered into his life for the last six months had led him back towards the Bishop's holy injunctions; Cosette through love; the convent through humility。
  Sometimes at eventide; in the twilight; at an hour when the garden was deserted; he could be seen on his knees in the middle of the walk which skirted the chapel; in front of the window through which he had gazed on the night of his arrival; and turned towards the spot where; as he knew; the sister was making reparation; prostrated in prayer。 Thus he prayed as he knelt before the sister。
  It seemed as though he dared not kneel directly before God。
  Everything that surrounded him; that peaceful garden; those fragrant flowers; those children who uttered joyous cries; those grave and simple women; that silent cloister; slowly permeated him; and little by little; his soul became pounded of silence like the cloister; of perfume like the flowers; of simplicity like the women; of joy like the children。
  And then he reflected that these had been two houses of God which had received him in succession at two critical moments in his life:
  the first; when all doors were closed and when human society rejected him; the second; at a moment when human society had again set out in pursuit of him; and when the galleys were again yawning; and that; had it not been for the first; he should have relapsed into crime; and had it not been for the second; into torment。
  His whole heart melted in gratitude; and he loved more and more。
  Many years passed in this manner; Cosette was growing up。
  'The end of Volume II。 〃Cosette〃' 


BOOK FIRST。PARIS STUDIED IN ITS ATOM
CHAPTER I 
  PARVULUS
  Paris has a child; and the forest has a bird; the bird is called the sparrow; the child is called the gamin。
  Couple these two ideas which contain; the one all the furnace; the other all the dawn; strike these two sparks together; Paris; childhood; there leaps out from them a little being。
  Homuncio; Plautus would say。
  This little being is joyous。
  He has not food every day; and he goes to the play every evening; if he sees good。
  He has no shirt on his body; no shoes on his feet; no roof over his head; he is like the flies of heaven; who have none of these things。 He is from seven to thirteen years of age; he lives in bands; roams the streets; lodges in the open air; wears an old pair of trousers of his father's; which descend below his heels; an old hat of some other father; which descends below his ears; a single suspender of yellow listing; he runs; lies in wait; rummages about; wastes time; blackens pipes; swears like a convict; haunts the wine…shop; knows thieves; calls gay women thou; talks slang; sings obscene songs; and has no evil in his heart。 This is because he has in his heart a pearl; innocence; and pearls are not to be dissolved in mud。
  So long as man is in his childhoo
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