按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!
at he was contenting himself with conquering the first necessities of life; and that he was resting from his labors too soon。
It was evident that; for this energetic and enthusiastic nature; this could only be a transitory state; and that; at the first shock against the inevitable plications of destiny; Marius would awaken。
In the meantime; although he was a lawyer; and whatever Father Gillenormand thought about the matter; he was not practising; he was not even pettifogging。
Meditation had turned him aside from pleading。 To haunt attorneys; to follow the court; to hunt up cases what a bore!
Why should he do it?
He saw no reason for changing the manner of gaining his livelihood!
The obscure and ill…paid publishing establishment had e to mean for him a sure source of work which did not involve too much labor; as we have explained; and which sufficed for his wants。
One of the publishers for whom he worked; M。 Magimel; I think; offered to take him into his own house; to lodge him well; to furnish him with regular occupation; and to give him fifteen hundred francs a year。
To be well lodged!
Fifteen hundred francs!
No doubt。 But renounce his liberty!
Be on fixed wages!
A sort of hired man of letters!
According to Marius' opinion; if he accepted; his position would bee both better and worse at the same time; he acquired fort; and lost his dignity; it was a fine and plete unhappiness converted into a repulsive and ridiculous state of torture: something like the case of a blind man who should recover the sight of one eye。
He refused。
Marius dwelt in solitude。
Owing to his taste for remaining outside of everything; and through having been too much alarmed; he had not entered decidedly into the group presided over by Enjolras。 They had remained good friends; they were ready to assist each other on occasion in every possible way; but nothing more。 Marius had two friends:
one young; Courfeyrac; and one old; M。 Mabeuf。
He inclined more to the old man。
In the first place; he owed to him the revolution which had taken place within him; to him he was indebted for having known and loved his father。 〃He operated on me for a cataract;〃 he said。
The churchwarden had certainly played a decisive part。
It was not; however; that M。 Mabeuf had been anything but the calm and impassive agent of Providence in this connection。
He had enlightened Marius by chance and without being aware of the fact; as does a candle which some one brings; he had been the candle and not the some one。
As for Marius' inward political revolution; M。 Mabeuf was totally incapable of prehending it; of willing or of directing it。
As we shall see M。 Mabeuf again; later on; a few words will not be superfluous。
BOOK FIFTH。THE EXCELLENCE OF MISFORTUNE
CHAPTER IV
M。 MABEUF
On the day when M。 Mabeuf said to Marius:
〃Certainly I approve of political opinions;〃 he expressed the real state of his mind。 All political opinions were matters of indifference to him; and he approved them all; without distinction; provided they left him in peace; as the Greeks called the Furies 〃the beautiful; the good; the charming;〃 the Eumenides。
M。 Mabeuf's political opinion consisted in a passionate love for plants; and; above all; for books。 Like all the rest of the world; he possessed the termination in ist; without which no one could exist at that time; but he was neither a Royalist; a Bonapartist; a Chartist; an Orleanist; nor an Anarchist; he was a bouquinist; a collector of old books。
He did not understand how men could busy themselves with hating each other because of silly stuff like the charter; democracy; legitimacy; monarchy; the republic; etc。; when there were in the world all sorts of mosses; grasses; and shrubs which they might be looking at; and heaps of folios; and even of 32mos; which they might turn over。
He took good care not to bee useless; having books did not prevent his reading; being a botanist did not prevent his being a gardener。
When he made Pontmercy's acquaintance; this sympathy had existed between the colonel and himselfthat what the colonel did for flowers; he did for fruits。
M。 Mabeuf had succeeded in producing seedling pears as savory as the pears of St。 Germain; it is from one of his binations; apparently; that the October Mirabelle; now celebrated and no less perfumed than the summer Mirabelle; owes its origin。
He went to mass rather from gentleness than from piety; and because; as he loved the faces of men; but hated their noise; he found them assembled and silent only in church。 Feeling that he must be something in the State; he had chosen the career of warden。
However; he had never succeeded in loving any woman as much as a tulip bulb; nor any man as much as an Elzevir。 He had long passed sixty; when; one day; some one asked him: 〃Have you never been married?〃
〃I have forgotten;〃 said he。 When it sometimes happened to himand to whom does it not happen? to say:
〃Oh! if I were only rich!〃 it was not when ogling a pretty girl; as was the case with Father Gillenormand; but when contemplating an old book。
He lived alone with an old housekeeper。 He was somewhat gouty; and when he was asleep; his aged fingers; stiffened with rheumatism; lay crooked up in the folds of his sheets。 He had posed and published a Flora of the Environs of Cauteretz; with colored plates; a work which enjoyed a tolerable measure of esteem and which sold well。
People rang his bell; in the Rue Mesieres; two or three times a day; to ask for it。
He drew as much as two thousand francs a year from it; this constituted nearly the whole of his fortune。
Although poor; he had had the talent to form for himself; by dint of patience; privations; and time; a precious collection of rare copies of every sort。
He never went out without a book under his arm; and he often returned with two。
The sole decoration of the four rooms on the ground floor; which posed his lodgings; consisted of framed herbariums; and engravings of the old masters。 The sight of a sword or a gun chilled his blood。
He had never a