Part 3 Book 6 Chapter 2 Lux Facta Est

During the second year, precisely at the point in this history which the reader has now reached, it chanced that this habit of the Luxembourg was interrupted, without Marius himself being quite aware why, and nearly six months elapsed, during which he did not set foot in the alley. One day, at last, he returned thither once more;it was a serene summer morning, and Marius was in joyous mood,as one is when the weather is fine. It seemed to him that he had in his heart all the songs of the birds that he was listening to,and all the bits of blue sky of which he caught glimpses through the leaves of the trees.

He went straight to "his alley," and when he reached the end of it he perceived, still on the same bench, that well-known couple.Only, when he approached, it certainly was the same man; but it seemed to him that it was no longer the same girl. The person whom he now beheld was a tall and beautiful creature, possessed of all the most charming lines of a woman at the precise moment when they are still combined with all the most ingenuous graces of the child; a pure and fugitive moment, which can be expressed only by these two words,--"fifteen years." She had wonderful brown hair, shaded with threads of gold, a brow that seemed made of marble, cheeks that seemed made of rose-leaf, a pale flush, an agitated whiteness, an exquisite mouth,whence smiles darted like sunbeams, and words like music, a head such as Raphael would have given to Mary, set upon a neck that Jean Goujon would have attributed to a Venus. And, in order that nothing might be lacking to this bewitching face, her nose was not handsome--it was pretty; neither straight nor curved, neither Italian nor Greek;it was the Parisian nose, that is to say, spiritual, delicate,irregular, pure,--which drives painters to despair, and charms poets.

When Marius passed near her, he could not see her eyes, which were constantly lowered. He saw only her long chestnut lashes,permeated with shadow and modesty.

This did not prevent the beautiful child from smiling as she listened to what the white-haired old man was saying to her,and nothing could be more fascinating than that fresh smile,combined with those drooping eyes.

For a moment, Marius thought that she was another daughter of the same man, a sister of the former, no doubt. But when the invariable habit of his stroll brought him, for the second time, near the bench, and he had examined her attentively, he recognized her as the same. In six months the little girl had become a young maiden; that was all.Nothing is more frequent than this phenomenon. There is a moment when girls blossom out in the twinkling of an eye, and become roses all at once. One left them children but yesterday; today, one finds them disquieting to the feelings.

This child had not only grown, she had become idealized. As three days in April suffice to cover certain trees with flowers,six months had sufficed to clothe her with beauty. Her April had arrived.

One sometimes sees people, who, poor and mean, seem to wake up, pass suddenly from indigence to luxury, indulge in expenditures of all sorts, and become dazzling, prodigal, magnificent, all of a sudden. That is the result of having pocketed an income; a note fell due yesterday. The young girl had received her quarterly income.

And then, she was no longer the school-girl with her felt hat, her merino gown, her scholar's shoes, and red hands; taste had come to her with beauty; she was a well-dressed person, clad with a sort of rich and simple elegance, and without affectation. She wore a dress of black damask, a cape of the same material,and a bonnet of white crape. Her white gloves displayed the delicacy of the hand which toyed with the carved, Chinese ivory handle of a parasol, and her silken shoe outlined the smallness of her foot. When one passed near her, her whole toilette exhaled a youthful and penetrating perfume.

As for the man, he was the same as usual.

The second time that Marius approached her, the young girl raised her eyelids; her eyes were of a deep, celestial blue, but in that veiled azure, there was, as yet, nothing but the glance of a child.She looked at Marius indifferently, as she would have stared at the brat running beneath the sycamores, or the marble vase which cast a shadow on the bench, and Marius, on his side, continued his promenade, and thought about something else.

He passed near the bench where the young girl sat, five or six times,but without even turning his eyes in her direction.

On the following days, he returned, as was his wont, to the Luxembourg;as usual, he found there "the father and daughter;" but he paid no further attention to them. He thought no more about the girl now that she was beautiful than he had when she was homely. He passed very near the bench where she sat, because such was his habit.

第二年，正是在本故事的读者刚读到的这个时刻，马吕斯常去卢森堡公园的习惯忽然中断了，他自己也不知道这是为了什么，几乎一连六个月没有到那条小路上去走过一步。可是，有一天，他又去了。那是在夏天的一个晴朗的上午。马吕斯心情欢畅，和风丽日给予人的感受正是如此。他仿佛觉得所有他听到的雀鸟唱和的声音，所有他从树叶中望见的片片蓝天全深入到了他的心里。

他直向“他的小路”走去。到了尽头，他又望见了那两个面熟的人，仍旧坐在从前的那条板凳上。不过当他走近时，那男子还是那男子，姑娘却不象是从前的那个了。现在在他眼前的是个秀长、美丽、有着女性已届成年却仍全部保有女孩那极尽天真情态的体形的最动人的人儿，这是倏忽和纯洁的时刻，要表达只能用这几个字：芳龄十五。那便是使人惊叹并夹着金丝纹的栗色头发，光洁如玉的额头，艳如一瓣蔷薇的双颊，晶莹的红，含羞的白，一张妙嘴，出来的笑声如同光明、语声如同音乐，一个让·古戎①要摹刻的维纳斯的颈子而拉斐尔要描绘的马利亚的头。并且，为了使动人的脸什么也不缺，那鼻子虽生得不美，却是生得漂亮的，不直不弯，非意大利型也非希腊型，而是巴黎型的鼻子，那就是说某种俏皮、秀气、不正规、纯净、使画家失望诗人迷惑的鼻子。

①让·古戎（Jean　Goujon，1510?568），法国雕塑家和建筑学家。

马吕斯走过她身边，却没能看见她那双一直低垂着的眼睛。他只见到栗色的长睫毛，掩映着幽娴贞静的神态。

这并不妨碍她微笑着听那白发老人和她谈话，并且再没有什么比低着眼睛微笑更荡人心魂的了。

最初，马吕斯以为这是同一男子的另一个女儿，大致是从前那一个的姐姐。但是，当那一贯的散步习惯第二次引他到那板凳近旁，他留意打量以后才认出她还是原来的那一个。六个月，小姑娘已经变成了少女，如是而已。这种现象是极常见的。有那么一种时刻，姑娘们好象是忽然吐放的蓓蕾，一眨眼便成了一朵朵玫瑰。昨天人们还把她们当作孩子没理睬，今天重相见，已感到她们乱人心意了。

这一个不但长大了，而且理想化了。正如在四月里一样，三天的时间足使某些树木花开满枝，六个月已同样够使她周身秀美了。她的四月已经到来。

我们有时看见一些穷而吝啬的人，好象一觉醒来，忽然从赤贫转为巨富，一下子变得奢侈豪华。那是因为他们收到了一笔年金，昨天到了付款日期。这姑娘领到了一个季度的利息。

并且她已不是从前那个戴着棉绒帽子，穿件毛呢裙袍和双平底鞋，两手发红的寄读生，审美力已随容光的焕发来到了，她已是个打扮得简单、雅致、挺秀、脱俗的少女。她穿一件黑花缎裙袍，一件同样料子的短披风，戴一顶白绉纱帽子。白手套显出一双细长的手，手里玩着一把中国象牙柄的遮阳伞，一双缎鞋衬托出她脚的秀气。当人们走过她身边，她的全身衣着吐着青春的那种强烈香气。

至于那男子，还是从前那一个。

马吕斯再次走近她时，那姑娘抬起了眼睑。她的眼睛是深蓝色的，但是在这蒙蒙的天空中还只有孩子的神气。她自自然然地望着马吕斯，仿佛她望见的只是一个在槭树下跑着玩的孩子，或是照在那板凳上的一个云石花盆的影子，马吕斯也只管往前走，心里想着旁的事儿。

他在那年轻姑娘的板凳旁边又走了四五趟，连眼睛也没有向她转一下。

后来几天，他和平时一样，天天去卢森堡公园，和平时一样，他总在那地方见到那“父女俩”，但是他已不再注意了。

他在那姑娘变美了的时候并不比她丑的时候对她想得多些，他照旧紧挨着她坐的那条板凳旁边走过，因为这是他的习惯。