Part 5 Book 5 Chapter 3 Marius Attacked

One day, M. Gillenormand, while his daughter was putting in order the phials and cups on the marble of the commode, bent over Marius and said to him in his tenderest accents: "Look here, my little Marius, if I were in your place, I would eat meat now in preference to fish. A fried sole is excellent to begin a convalescence with, but a good cutlet is needed to put a sick man on his feet."

Marius, who had almost entirely recovered his strength, collected the whole of it, drew himself up into a sitting posture, laid his two clenched fists on the sheets of his bed, looked his grandfather in the face, assumed a terrible air, and said:

"This leads me to say something to you."

"What is it?"

"That I wish to marry."

"Agreed," said his grandfather.--And he burst out laughing.

"How agreed?"

"Yes, agreed. You shall have your little girl."

Marius, stunned and overwhelmed with the dazzling shock, trembled in every limb.

M. Gillenormand went on:

"Yes, you shall have her, that pretty little girl of yours. She comes every day in the shape of an old gentleman to inquire after you. Ever since you were wounded, she has passed her time in weeping and making lint. I have made inquiries. She lives in the Rue de l'Homme Arme, No. 7. Ah! There we have it! Ah! So you want her! Well, you shall have her. You're caught. You had arranged your little plot, you had said to yourself:--`I'm going to signify this squarely to my grandfather, to that mummy of the Regency and of the Directory, to that ancient beau, to that Dorante turned Geronte; he has indulged in his frivolities also, that he has, and he has had his love affairs, and his grisettes and his Cosettes; he has made his rustle, he has had his wings, he has eaten of the bread of spring; he certainly must remember it.' Ah! You take the cockchafer by the horns. That's good. I offer you a cutlet and you answer me:`By the way, I want to marry.' There's a transition for you! Ah! You reckoned on a bickering! You do not know that I am an old coward. What do you say to that? You are vexed? You did not expect to find your grandfather still more foolish than yourself, you are wasting the discourse which you meant to bestow upon me, Mr. Lawyer, and that's vexatious. Well, so much the worse, rage away. I'll do whatever you wish,and that cuts you short, imbecile! Listen. I have made my inquiries, I'm cunning too; she is charming, she is discreet, it is not true about the lancer, she has made heaps of lint, she's a jewel, she adores you, if you had died, there would have been three of us, her coffin would have accompanied mine. I have had an idea, ever since you have been better, of simply planting her at your bedside, but it is only in romances that young girls are brought to the bedsides of handsome young wounded men who interest them. It is not done. What would your aunt have said to it? You were nude three quarters of the time, my good fellow. Ask Nicolette, who has not left you for a moment, if there was any possibility of having a woman here. And then, what would the doctor have said? A pretty girl does not cure a man of fever. In short, it's all right, let us say no more about it, all's said, all's done, it's all settled, take her. Such is my ferocity. You see, I perceived that you did not love me. I said to myself:`Here now, I have my little Cosette right under my hand, I'm going to give her to him, he will be obliged to love me a little then, or he must tell the reason why.' Ah! So you thought that the old man was going to storm, to put on a big voice, to shout no, and to lift his cane at all that aurora. Not a bit of it. Cosette, so be it; love, so be it; I ask nothing better. Pray take the trouble of getting married, sir. Be happy, my well-beloved child."

That said, the old man burst forth into sobs.

And he seized Marius' head, and pressed it with both arms against his breast, and both fell to weeping. This is one of the forms of supreme happiness.

"Father!" cried Marius.

"Ah, so you love me!" said the old man.

An ineffable moment ensued. They were choking and could not speak.

At length the old man stammered:

"Come! His mouth is unstopped at last. He has said:`Father' to me."

Marius disengaged his head from his grandfather's arms, and said gently:

"But, father, now that I am quite well, it seems to me that I might see her."

"Agreed again, you shall see her to-morrow."

"Father!"

"What?"

"Why not to-day?"

"Well, to-day then. Let it be today. You have called me `father' three times, and it is worth it. I will attend to it. She shall be brought hither. Agreed, I tell you. It has already been put into verse. This is the ending of the elegy of the`Jeune Malade' by Andre Chenier, by Andre Chenier whose throat was cut by the ras . . . by the giants of '93."

M. Gillenormand fancied that he detected a faint frown on the part of Marius, who, in truth, as we must admit, was no longer listening to him, and who was thinking far more of Cosette than of 1793.

The grandfather, trembling at having so inopportunely introduced Andre Chenier, resumed precipitately:

"Cut his throat is not the word. The fact is that the great revolutionary geniuses, who were not malicious, that is incontestable, who were heroes, pardi! Found that Andre Chenier embarrassed them somewhat, and they had him guillot . . . that is to say, those great men on the 7th of Thermidor, besought Andre Chenier, in the interests of public safety, to be so good as to go . . ."

M. Gillenormand, clutched by the throat by his own phrase, could not proceed. Being able neither to finish it nor to retract it, while his daughter arranged the pillow behind Marius, who was overwhelmed with so many emotions, the old man rushed headlong, with as much rapidity as his age permitted, from the bed-chamber, shut the door behind him, and, purple, choking and foaming at the mouth, his eyes starting from his head, he found himself nose to nose with honest Basque, who was blacking boots in the anteroom. He seized Basque by the collar, and shouted full in his face in fury:--"By the hundred thousand Javottes of the devil, those ruffians did assassinate him!"

"Who, sir?"

"Andre Chenier!"

"Yes, sir," said Basque in alarm.

有一天，当吉诺曼先生的女儿正在整理大理石面橱柜上的瓶子杯子时，吉诺曼先生弯下腰用他最温柔的声音向马吕斯说：

“你知道，我的小马吕斯，我要是你，我现在就吃肉而不吃鱼。鲽鱼对开始恢复健康是最恰当的，但是要使病人站起来，就得吃一大块排骨。”

马吕斯已基本上恢复了元气，他集中力量，在床上竖起身子，两拳紧握搁在床单上，望着外祖父的脸，摆出一副吓唬人的样子说：

“说起排骨①，我倒要向你谈件事。”

“什么事？”

“就是我要结婚。”

“早知道了。”外祖父说，于是他哈哈大笑起来。

“怎么，早知道了？”

“是呀，早知道了。你会娶到你那小姑娘的。”

马吕斯呆住了，惊喜得喘不过气来，四肢颤抖着。

吉诺曼先生继续说：

“是呀，你会娶到你那漂亮标致的小姑娘的。她每天让一位老先生来代她探听你的消息。自从你受伤后，她整天哭泣，做纱布。我打听过了。她住在武人街七号。啊，对头了吧！啊！你要她。好吧，你会得到她的。你想不到吧。你用你那小诡计，暗自说道：‘我要向这个外祖父直截了当地把事情说出来，这个摄政时期和督政府时期的木乃伊，这个过去的花花公子，这个变成惹隆德的陶朗特②，他也有过他的风流艳史，也曾谈情说爱，也结交过风骚卖俏的女人，也有过他的珂赛特；他也曾炫耀过，也有过翅膀飞翔过，他也有过青春；他应该记得这些。’我们等着瞧吧。开战。啊！你抓住冒失鬼的角，真不错，我给你一块排骨，而你却回答我：‘说起这个，我要结婚。’你真会改变话题！啊！你是打算和我吵一架的！你还不知道我是个老胆小鬼。你觉得怎么样？你满腹牢骚。你发现你的外公比你还蠢，出乎你意料之外，你准备讲给我听的演说没用了，律师先生，这挺逗的。想发怒，算了。你想干什么我都依你，这使你大吃一惊，傻瓜！听我说，我调查清楚了，我也会搞阴谋，她是个美丽的姑娘，又贤慧，长矛兵的事情不是真的。她做了很多纱布，她是个宝贝，她爱你。假如你死了，我们三个都要同归于尽；她的灵柩会伴着我的。你病情一有点好转，我就打算干脆把她带到你床前来，但是只有在小说里才会这样，立即把姑娘带到她们感兴趣的受了伤的美男子床前。这样做是不恰当的。你姨妈又该怎么说了？你四分之三的时间是赤身露体的，我的孩子。你问问妮珂莱特看，她是一直在你身旁的，有没有办法在这里接待一个妇女。此外医生又该怎么说呢？一个美女不能治愈发烧。总之，好吧，不必再谈论了，说定了，决定了，确定了，娶她吧。你看，我就是这样的残暴。你知道，我看到你对我没有好感，我在考虑该怎么办才能让这个小畜生爱我呢？我想，有了，小珂赛特已在我手里，我要把她给他，他就多少会爱我一点了，不然他就会去说他的道理。啊！你以为老头又要大发雷霆了，大吼大叫，不答应，并且拿起拐杖就打新一代。一点也不会。珂赛特，同意！爱情，同意！我举双手赞成，先生，劳驾你就结婚吧。祝你幸福，我心爱的孩子。”

①据《圣经·创世记》记载，上帝造第一个人名叫亚当。他取亚当的一根肋骨造成夏娃，这就是亚当的妻子。

②陶朗特（Dorante），代表风流男子。

说完这话，老人突然痛哭起来。

他捧着马吕斯的头，用两臂把它紧贴在他年老的胸前，于是两人都哭起来了。这是种至高无上的幸福的表现。

“我的父亲！”马吕斯喊着。

“啊！你还是爱我的！”老人说。

有那么一会儿难以形容的时刻，他们象窒息了似的说不出话来。

后来老人结结巴巴地说：

“好吧！他想通了。他叫我‘父亲’。”

马吕斯把头从外祖父双臂中脱出来，温和地说：“可是，父亲，现在我既然已经痊愈了，我觉得可以和她见面了。”

“这个也想到了，你明天就可以见到她。”

“父亲！”

“怎么啦？”

“为什么不在今天呢？”

“好吧，今天。就是今天吧。你叫了我三次‘父亲’，这值得我让步。我去想办法，会有人送她来的！都想到了，告诉你。这些情节诗里已有记载，在安德烈·舍尼埃的悲歌《抱病的青年》的结尾处，就是这个被恶棍……被九三年伟大的人物砍了头的安德烈·舍尼埃。”

吉诺曼先生似乎觉得马吕斯皱了一下眉。其实，我们该说清楚，他已不再在听外公说话，在他惊喜若狂的时候，他想珂赛特比想一七九三年多得多。

“砍头这个字眼是不恰当的，事实是那些革命的大天才，他们并无恶意，这是肯定的，他们是英雄，当然喽！他们觉得安德烈·舍尼埃有点碍事，所以把他送上了断……就是说这些大人物，为了公众的利益，在热月七日，请安德烈·舍尼埃去……”

吉诺曼先生被他自己的话卡住，说不下去了，既不能结束，也无法取消。当他的女儿在马吕斯后面整理枕头时，这老人为激情所扰，用他年龄许可的速度，冲出卧室，把门带上，面色通红，喉咙好象被掐，白沫纵横，眼球突出，和在候客室中擦鞋的忠仆巴斯克正打一个照面。他一把抓住巴斯克的衣领，怒冲冲地向他叫道：“我向十万个长舌鬼发誓，这些强盗杀害了他。”

“谁，先生？”

“安德烈·舍尼埃！”

“是，先生。”吓慌了的巴斯克这样回答。

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