Part 3 Book 6 Chapter 4 Beginning of a Great Malady

On the following day, at the accustomed hour, Marius drew from his wardrobe his new coat, his new trousers, his new hat, and his new boots; he clothed himself in this complete panoply, put on his gloves, a tremendous luxury, and set off for the Luxembourg.

On the way thither, he encountered Courfeyrac, and pretended not to see him. Courfeyrac, on his return home, said to his friends:--

"I have just met Marius' new hat and new coat, with Marius inside them. He was going to pass an examination, no doubt.He looked utterly stupid."

On arriving at the Luxembourg, Marius made the tour of the fountain basin, and stared at the swans; then he remained for a long time in contemplation before a statue whose head was perfectly black with mould, and one of whose hips was missing. Near the basin there was a bourgeois forty years of age, with a prominent stomach, who was holding by the hand a little urchin of five, and saying to him: "Shun excess, my son, keep at an equal distance from despotism and from anarchy." Marius listened to this bourgeois. Then he made the circuit of the basin onur s in the sand, with the cane which he held in his hand.

Then he turned abruptly in the direction opposite to the bench,to M. Leblanc and his daughter, and went home.

That day he forgot to dine. At eight o'clock in the evening he perceived this fact, and as it was too late to go down to the Rue Saint-Jacques, he said: "Never mind!" and ate a bit of bread.<磿&X?the very top, pulled it down on his body so that there might be no wrinkles, examined, with a certain complaisance, the lustrous gleams of his trousers, and marched on the bench. This march savored of an attack, and certainly of a desire for conquest. So I say that he marched on the bench, as I should say: "Hannibal marched on Rome."

However, all his movements were purely mechanical, and he had interrupted none of the habitual preoccupations of his mind and labors. At that moment, he was thinking that the Manuel du Baccalaureat was a stupid book, and that it must have been drawn up by rare idiots, to allow of three tragedies of Racine and only one comedy of Moliere being analyzed therein as masterpieces of the human mind. There was a piercing whistling going on in his ears.  As he approached the bench, he held fast to the folds in his coat,and fixed his eyes on the young girl. It seemed to him that she filled the entire extremity of the alley with a vague blue light.

In proportion as he drew near, his pace slackened more and more.   On arriving at some little distance from the bench, and long before he had reached the end of the walk, he halted, and could not explain to himself why he retraced his steps. He did not even say to himself that he would not go as far as the end. It was only with difficulty that the young girl could have perceived him in the distance and noted his fine appearance in his new clothes. Nevertheless, he held himself very erect, in case any one should be looking at him from behind.

He attained the opposite end, then came back, and this time he approached a little nearer to the bench. He even got to within  three intervals of trees, but there he felt an indescribable impossibility of proceeding further, and he hesitated. He thought he saw the young girl's face bending towards him. But he exerted a manly and violent effort, subdued his hesitation, and walked straight ahead. A few seconds later, he rushed in front of the bench, erect and firm, reddening to the very ears, without daring to cast a glance either to the right or to the left, with his hand thrust into his coat like a statesman. At the moment when he passed,-- under the cannon of the place,--he felt his heart beat wildly. As on the preceding day, she wore her damask gown and her crape bonnet. He heard an ineffable voice, which must have been "her voice." She was talking tranquilly. She was very pretty. He felt it,although he made no attempt to see her. "She could not, however,"he thought, "help feeling esteem and consideration for me, if sheonly knew that I am the veritable author of the dissertation onMarcos Obregon de la Ronde, which M. Francois de Neufchateau put,as though it were his own, at the head of his edition of Gil Blas."He went beyond the bench as far as the extremity of the walk,which was very near, then turned on his heel and passed once more in front of the lovely girl. This time, he was very pale.Moreover, all his emotions were disagreeable. As he went further from the bench and the young girl, and while his back was turned to her, he fancied that she was gazing after him, and that made him stumble.

He did not attempt to approach the bench again; he halted near the middle of the walk, and there, a thing which he never did,he sat down, and reflecting in the most profoundly indistinct depths of his spirit, that after all, it was hard that persons whose white bonnet and black gown he admired should be absolutely insensible to his splendid trousers and his new coat.

At the expiration of a quarter of an hour, he rose, as though he were on the point of again beginning his march towards that bench which was surrounded by an aureole. But he remained standing there, motionless. For the first time in fifteen months, he said to himself that that gentleman who sat there every day with his daughter, had,on his side, noticed him, and probably considered his assiduity singular.

For the first time, also, he was conscious of some irreverence in designating that stranger, even in his secret thoughts, by the sobriquet of M. le Blanc.

He stood thus for several minutes, with drooping head, tracing figures in the sand, with the cane which he held in his hand.

Then he turned abruptly in the direction opposite to the bench,to M. Leblanc and his daughter, and went home.

That day he forgot to dine. At eight o'clock in the evening he perceived this fact, and as it was too late to go down to the Rue Saint-Jacques, he said: "Never mind!" and ate a bit of bread.

He did not go to bed until he had brushed his coat and folded it up with great care.

第二天，到了寻常的钟点，马吕斯从衣柜里拖出了他的新衣、新裤、新帽、新靴，他把这全副盔甲穿上身，戴上手套棗

骇人听闻的奢侈品，到卢森堡公园去。

半路上，他遇到古费拉克，只装作没看见。古费拉克回到家里对他的朋友们说：“我刚才遇见了马吕斯的新帽子和新衣服，里面裹着一个马吕斯。他一定是去参加考试。脸上一副傻相。”

到了公园，马吕斯围着喷水池绕了一圈，看天鹅，接着又站在一座满头黑霉并缺一块腰胯的塑像跟前，呆呆地望了许久。喷水池旁边，一个四十来岁的大肚子绅士，手里牵着一个五岁的孩子，对他说：“凡事不能过分，我的儿，应当站在专制主义和无政府主义的中间，不偏这边也不偏那边。”马吕斯细听着那老财谈论。随后，他又围着喷水池兜了个圈子。最后他才朝着“他的小路”走去，慢吞吞地，仿佛懊悔不该来，仿佛有谁在逼着他去阻止他去似的。他自己却一点也没有感到这一切，还自以为和平时一样在散步。

在走上那小路时，他望见路的尽头白先生和那姑娘已经坐在“他们的板凳”上了。他把自己的上衣一直扣到顶，挺起腰板，不让它有一丝皱折，略带满足的心情望了望长裤上光泽的反射，向那板凳进军。他的步伐带着一股冲锋陷阵的味道，想必也有旗开得胜的想望。因此我说，他向那板凳进军，正如我说汉尼拔向罗马进军。

此外，他的动作没有一个不是机械的，他也绝没有中断他平时精神方面和工作方面的思想活动。这时，他心里正在想：“《学士手册》确是一本荒谬的书，一定是出自一伙稀有蠢材的手笔，才会在谈到人类思想代表作时去对拉辛的三个悲剧作分析，而莫里哀的喜剧反而只分析一个。”他耳朵里起了一阵尖锐的叫声。他一面朝板凳走去，一面拉平衣服上的皱折，两眼盯住那姑娘。他仿佛看见她把整个小路尽头都洒满了蓝色的光辉。

他越往前走，他的脚步也越慢。他走到离板凳还有相当距离，离小路尽头还很远的地方，忽然停了下来，连他自己也不知道是怎么回事，竟转身走回来了。他心里一点也没想过不要再往前走。很难说那姑娘是否从远处望见了他，是否看清了他穿上新衣的漂亮风度。可是他仍旧把腰板挺得笔直，以备万一有人从他后面望来，他仍是好样儿的。

他走到了这一端的尽头，再往回走，这一次，离板凳比较近了。他居然到达相隔还有三棵树的地方，这里，不知为什么，他感到确实无法再前进，心里迟疑起来了。他认为已看到那姑娘把脸转向了他。于是他作一番心雄气壮的努力，解除了顾虑，继续往前走。几秒钟后，他从那板凳前面走过，身躯笔直，意志坚强，连耳朵也涨红了，不敢向右看一眼，也不敢向左看一眼，一只手插在衣襟里，象个政府要人。当他走过……那炮台的时候，他感到心跳得真难受。她呢，和昨天一样，花缎裙袍，绉纱帽。他听到一种形容不出的谈话声音，那一定是“她的声音”了。她正在安详地谈着话。她长得美极了。这是他感到的，他并不曾打算要看她。他心里想道：“她一定不能不敬重我，假使她知道弗朗沙·德·纳夫夏多先生出版的《吉尔·布拉斯》前面那篇关于马可·奥白尔贡·德·拉龙达的论文是冒用的，而真正的作者却是我！”

他走过了板凳，直到相距不远的尽头，接着又回头，再次经过那美丽姑娘的面前。这次，他的脸白得象张纸。他的感受也完全不是味儿。他离开了那条板凳和那姑娘，背对着她，却感到她正在打量自己，这一想象几乎使他摔倒。

他不想再到那板凳近旁去试了，走到小路中段便停下来，并且，破天荒第一次，在那里坐下了，斜着眼睛朝一边频频偷看，在极端模糊的精神状态中深深地在想，他既然羡慕别人的白帽子和黑裙袍，别人也就很难对他那条发亮的长裤和那件新上衣完全无动于衷。

坐了一刻钟，他站起来，仿佛又要向那条被宝光笼罩着的板凳走去。可是他立看不动。十五个月以来第一次，他心里想到那位天天陪着女儿坐在那里的先生也许已经注意他，并会觉得他这样殷勤有些古怪。

也是第一次，他感到用“白先生”这个绰号，即使是在心里去称呼这个不相识的人，多少也有些不恭敬。

他这样低着头，呆想了几分钟，同时用手里的一根棍子在沙上画了许多画。

随后，他突然转身过来，背对着那条板凳以及白先生和他的女儿，一径回家去了。

那天他忘了吃晚饭。晚上八点钟，他才想起来，但是时间已经太迟，不用再去圣雅克街了，他说：“嘿！”吃了一块面包。

他刷净衣服裤子，仔仔细细叠好，然后上床睡了。