by Лоренс Стерн
I had a few of King William’s shillings, as smooth as glass, in my pocket; and foreseeing they would be of use in the illustration of my hypothesis, I had got them into my hand when I had proceeded so far: -
See, Monsieur le Count, said I, rising up, and laying them before him upon the table, - by jingling and rubbing one against another for seventy years together in one body’s pocket or another’s, they are become so much alike, you can scarce distinguish one shilling from another.
The English, like ancient medals, kept more apart, and passing but few people’s hands, preserve the first sharpnesses which the fine hand of Nature has given them; - they are not so pleasant to feel, - but in return the legend is so visible, that at the first look you see whose image and superscription they bear. - But the French, Monsieur le Count, added I (wishing to soften what I had said), have so many excellences, they can the better spare this; - they are a loyal, a gallant, a generous, an ingenious, and good temper’d people as is under heaven; - if they have a fault - they are too serious.
Mon Dieu! cried the Count, rising out of his chair.
Mais vous plaisantez, said he, correcting his exclamation. - I laid my hand upon my breast, and with earnest gravity assured him it was my most settled opinion.
The Count said he was mortified he could not stay to hear my reasons, being engaged to go that moment to dine with the Duc de C-.
But if it is not too far to come to Versailles to eat your soup with me, I beg, before you leave France, I may have the pleasure of knowing you retract your opinion, - or, in what manner you support it. - But, if you do support it, Monsieur Anglois, said he, you must do it with all your powers, because you have the whole world against you. - I promised the Count I would do myself the honour of dining with him before I set out for Italy; - so took my leave.
THE TEMPTATION. PARIS.
When I alighted at the hotel, the porter told me a young woman with a bandbox had been that moment enquiring for me. - I do not know, said the porter, whether she is gone away or not. I took the key of my chamber of him, and went upstairs; and when I had got within ten steps of the top of the landing before my door, I met her coming easily down.
It was the fair fille de chambre I had walked along the Quai de Conti with; Madame de R-had sent her upon some commission to a marchande des modes within a step or two of the Hôtel de Modene; and as I had fail’d in waiting upon her, had bid her enquire if I had left Paris; and if so, whether I had not left a letter addressed to her.
As the fair fille de chambre was so near my door, she returned back, and went into the room with me for a moment or two whilst I wrote a card.
It was a fine still evening in the latter end of the month of May, - the crimson window curtains (which were of the same colour as those of the bed) were drawn close: - the sun was setting, and reflected through them so warm a tint into the fair fille de chambre’s face, - I thought she blush’d; - the idea of it made me blush myself: - we were quite alone; and that superinduced a second blush before the first could get off.
There is a sort of a pleasing half guilty blush, where the blood is more in fault than the man: - ’tis sent impetuous from the heart, and virtue flies after it, - not to call it back, but to make the sensation of it more delicious to the nerves: - ’tis associated. -
But I’ll not describe it; - I felt something at first within me which was not in strict unison with the lesson of virtue I had given her the night before. - I sought five minutes for a card; - I knew I had not one. - I took up a pen. - I laid it down again; - my hand trembled: - the devil was in me.
I know as well as any one he is an adversary, whom, if we resist, he will fly from us; - but I seldom resist him at all; from a terror, though I may conquer, I may still get a hurt in the combat; - so I give up the triumph for security; and, instead of thinking to make him fly, I generally fly myself.
The fair fille de chambre came close up to the bureau where I was looking for a card - took up first the pen I cast down, then offer’d to hold me the ink; she offer’d it so sweetly, I was going to accept it; - but I durst not; - I have nothing, my dear, said I, to write upon. - Write it, said she, simply, upon anything. -
I was just going to cry out, Then I will write it, fair girl! upon thy lips. -
If I do, said I, I shall perish; - so I took her by the hand, and led her to the door, and begg’d she would not forget the lesson I had given her. - She said, indeed she would not; - and, as she uttered it with some earnestness, she turn’d about, and gave me both her hands, closed together, into mine; - it was impossible not to compress them in that situation; - I wish’d to let them go; and all the time I held them, I kept arguing within myself against it, - and still I held them on. - In two minutes I found I had all the battle to fight over again; - and I felt my legs and every limb about me tremble at the idea.
The foot of the bed was within a yard and a half of the place where we were standing. - I had still hold of her hands - and how it happened I can give no account; but I neither ask’d her - nor drew her - nor did I think of the bed; - but so it did happen, we both sat down.
I’ll just show you, said the fair fille de chambre, the little purse I have been making to-day to hold your crown. So she put her hand into her right pocket, which was next me, and felt for it some time - then into the left. - “She had lost it.” - I never bore expectation more quietly; - it was in her right pocket at last; - she pull’d it out; it was of green taffeta, lined with a little bit of white quilted satin, and just big enough to hold the crown: she put it into my hand; - it was pretty; and I held it ten minutes with the back of my hand resting upon her lap - looking sometimes at the purse, sometimes on one side of it.
A stitch or two had broke out in the gathers of my stock; the fair fille de chambre, without saying a word, took out her little housewife, threaded a small needle, and sew’d it up. - I foresaw it would hazard the glory of the day; and, as she pass’d her hand in silence across and across my neck in the manoeuvre, I felt the laurels shake which fancy had wreath’d about my head.
A strap had given way in her walk, and the buckle of her shoe was just falling off. - See, said the fille dechambre, holding up her foot. - I could not, for my soul but fasten the buckle in return, and putting in the strap, - and lifting up the other foot with it, when I had done, to see both were right, - in doing it too suddenly, it unavoidably threw the fair fille de chambre off her centre, - and then -
THE CONQUEST.
Yes, - and then -. Ye whose clay-cold heads and luke-warm hearts can argue down or mask your passions, tell me, what trespass is it that man should have them? or how his spirit stands answerable to the Father of spirits but for his conduct under them?
If Nature has so wove her web of kindness, that some threads of love and desire are entangled with the piece, - must the whole web be rent in drawing them out? - Whip me such stoics, great Governor of Nature! said I to myself: - wherever thy providence shall place me for the trials of my virtue; - whatever is my danger, - whatever is my situation, - let me feel the movements which rise out of it, and which belong to me as a man, - and, if I govern them as a good one, I will trust the issues to thy justice; for thou hast made us, and not we ourselves.
As I finished my address, I raised the fair fille de chambre up by the hand, and led her out of the room: - she stood by me till I locked the door and put the key in my pocket, - and then, - the victory being quite decisive - and not till then, I press’d my lips to her cheek, and taking her by the hand again, led her safe to the gate of the hotel.
THE MYSTERY. PARIS.
If a man knows the heart, he will know it was impossible to go back instantly to my chamber; - it was touching a cold key with a flat third to it upon the close of a piece of music, which had call’d forth my affections: - therefore, when I let go the hand of the fille de chambre, I remained at the gate of the hotel for some time, looking at every one who pass’d by, - and forming conjectures upon them, till my attention got fix’d upon a single objec
t which confounded all kind of reasoning upon him.
It was a tall figure of a philosophic, serious, adust look, which passed and repass’d sedately along the street, making a turn of about sixty paces on each side of the gate of the hotel; - the man was about fifty-two - had a small cane under his arm - was dress’d in a dark drab-colour’d coat, waistcoat, and breeches, which seem’d to have seen some years service: - they were still clean, and there was a little air of frugal propreté throughout him. By his pulling off his hat, and his attitude of accosting a good many in his way, I saw he was asking charity: so I got a sous or two out of my pocket ready to give him, as he took me in his turn. - He pass’d by me without asking anything - and yet did not go five steps further before he ask’d charity of a little woman. - I was much more likely to have given of the two. - He had scarce done with the woman, when he pull’d off his hat to another who was coming the same way. - An ancient gentleman came slowly - and, after him, a young smart one. - He let them both pass, and ask’d nothing. I stood observing him half an hour, in which time he had made a dozen turns backwards and forwards, and found that he invariably pursued the same plan.
There were two things very singular in this, which set my brain to work, and to no purpose: - the first was, why the man should only tell his story to the sex; - and, secondly, - what kind of story it was, and what species of eloquence it could be, which soften’d the hearts of the women, which he knew ’twas to no purpose to practise upon the men.
There were two other circumstances, which entangled this mystery; - the one was, he told every woman what he had to say in her ear, and in a way which had much more the air of a secret than a petition; - the other was, it was always successful. - He never stopp’d a woman, but she pull’d out her purse, and immediately gave him something.
I could form no system to explain the phenomenon.
I had got a riddle to amuse me for the rest of the evening; so I walk’d upstairs to my chamber.
THE CASE OF CONSCIENCE. PARIS.
I was immediately followed up by the master of the hotel, who came into my room to tell me I must provide lodgings elsewhere. - How so, friend? said I. - He answered, I had had a young woman lock’d up with me two hours that evening in my bedchamber, and ’twas against the rules of his house. - Very well, said I, we’ll all part friends then, - for the girl is no worse, - and I am no worse, - and you will be just as I found you. - It was enough, he said, to overthrow the credit of his hotel. - Voyez vous, Monsieur, said he, pointing to the foot of the bed we had been sitting upon. - I own it had something of the appearance of an evidence; but my pride not suffering me to enter into any detail of the case, I exhorted him to let his soul sleep in peace, as I resolved to let mine do that night, and that I would discharge what I owed him at breakfast.
I should not have minded, Monsieur, said he, if you had had twenty girls - ’Tis a score more, replied I, interrupting him, than I ever reckon’d upon - Provided, added he, it had been but in a morning. - And does the difference of the time of the day at Paris make a difference in the sin? - It made a difference, he said, in the scandal. - I like a good distinction in my heart; and cannot say I was intolerably out of temper with the man. - I own it is necessary, resumed the master of the hotel, that a stranger at Paris should have the opportunities presented to him of buying lace and silk stockings and ruffles, et tout cela; - and ’tis nothing if a woman comes with a bandbox. - O, my conscience! said I, she had one but I never look’d into it. - Then Monsieur, said he, has bought nothing? - Not one earthly thing, replied I. - Because, said he, I could recommend one to you who would use you en conscience. - But I must see her this night, said I. - He made me a low bow, and walk’d down.
Now shall I triumph over this maître d’hôtel, cried I, - and what then? Then I shall let him see I know he is a dirty fellow. - And what then? What then? - I was too near myself to say it was for the sake of others. - I had no good answer left; - there was more of spleen than principle in my project, and I was sick of it before the execution.
In a few minutes the grisette came in with her box of lace. - I’ll buy nothing, however, said I, within myself.
The grisette would show me everything. - I was hard to please: she would not seem to see it; she opened her little magazine, and laid all her laces one after another before me; - unfolded and folded them up again one by one with the most patient sweetness. - I might buy, - or not; - she would let me have everything at my own price: - the poor creature seem’d anxious to get a penny; and laid herself out to win me, and not so much in a manner which seem’d artful, as in one I felt simple and caressing.
If there is not a fund of honest gullibility in man, so much the worse; - my heart relented, and I gave up my second resolution as quietly as the first. - Why should I chastise one for the trespass of another? If thou art tributary to this tyrant of an host, thought I, looking up in her face, so much harder is thy bread.
If I had not had more than four louis d’ors in my purse, there was no such thing as rising up and showing her the door, till I had first laid three of them out in a pair of ruffles.
- The master of the hotel will share the profit with her; - no matter, - then I have only paid as many a poor soul has paid before me, for an act he could not do, or think of.
THE RIDDLE. PARIS.
When La Fleur came up to wait upon me at supper, he told me how sorry the master of the hotel was for his affront to me in bidding me change my lodgings.
A man who values a good night’s rest will not lie down with enmity in his heart, if he can help it. - So I bid La Fleur tell the master of the hotel, that I was sorry on my side for the occasion I had given him; - and you may tell him, if you will, La Fleur, added I, that if the young woman should call again, I shall not see her.
This was a sacrifice not to him, but myself, having resolved, after so narrow an escape, to run no more risks, but to leave Paris, if it was possible, with all the virtue I enter’d it.
C’est déroger à noblesse, Monsieur, said La Fleur, making me a bow down to the ground as he said it. - Et encore, Monsieur, said he, may change his sentiments; - and if (par hazard) he should like to amuse himself, - I find no amusement in it, said I, interrupting him. -
Mon Dieu! said La Fleur, - and took away.
In an hour’s time he came to put me to bed, and was more than commonly officious: - something hung upon his lips to say to me, or ask me, which he could not get off: I could not conceive what it was, and indeed gave myself little trouble to find it out, as I had another riddle so much more interesting upon my mind, which was that of the man’s asking charity before the door of the hotel. - I would have given anything to have got to the bottom of it; and that, not out of curiosity, - ’tis so low a principle of enquiry, in general, I would not purchase the gratification of it with a two-sous piece; - but a secret, I thought, which so soon and so certainly soften’d the heart of every woman you came near, was a secret at least equal to the philosopher’s stone; had I both the Indies, I would have given up one to have been master of it.
I toss’d and turn’d it almost all night long in my brains to no manner of purpose; and when I awoke in the morning, I found my spirits as much troubled with my dreams, as ever the King of Babylon had been with his; and I will not hesitate to affirm, it would have puzzled all the wise men of Paris as much as those of Chaldea to have given its interpretation.
LE DIMANCHE. PARIS.
It was Sunday; and when La Fleur came in, in the morning, with my coffee and roll and butter, he had got himself so gallantly array’d, I scarce knew him.
I had covenanted at Montreuil to give him a new hat with a silver button and loop, and four louis d’ors, pour s’adoniser, when we got to Paris; and the poor fellow, to do him justice, had done wonders with it.
He had bought a bright, clean, good scarlet coat, and a pair of breeches of the same. - They were not a crown worse, he said, for the wearing. - I wish’d him hang’d for telling me. - They look’d so fresh, that though
I knew the thing could not be done, yet I would rather have imposed upon my fancy with thinking I had bought them new for the fellow, than that they had come out of the Rue de Friperie.
This is a nicety which makes not the heart sore at Paris.
He had purchased, moreover, a handsome blue satin waistcoat, fancifully enough embroidered: - this was indeed something the worse for the service it had done, but ’twas clean scour’d; - the gold had been touch’d up, and upon the whole was rather showy than otherwise; - and as the blue was not violent, it suited with the coat and breeches very well: he had squeez’d out of the money, moreover, a new bag and a solitaire; and had insisted with the fripier upon a gold pair of garters to his breeches knees. - He had purchased muslin ruffles, bien brodées, with four livres of his own money; - and a pair of white silk stockings for five more; - and to top all, nature had given him a handsome figure, without costing him a sous.
