Part 4 Book 12 Chapter 6 Waiting

During those hours of waiting, what did they do?

We must needs tell, since this is a matter of history.

While the men made bullets and the women lint, while a large saucepan of melted brass and lead, destined to the bullet-mould smoked over a glowing brazier, while the sentinels watched, weapon in hand, on the barricade, while Enjolras, whom it was impossible to divert, kept an eye on the sentinels, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Jean Prouvaire, Feuilly, Bossuet, Joly, Bahorel, and some others, sought each other out and united as in the most peaceful days of their conversations in their student life, and, in one corner of this wine-shop which had been converted into a casement, a couple of paces distant from the redoubt which they had built, with their carbines loaded and primed resting against the backs of their chairs, these fine young fellows, so close to a supreme hour, began to recite love verses.

What verses? These:--

Vous rappelez-vous notre douce vie, Lorsque nous etions si jeunes tous deux, Et que nous n'avions au coeur d'autre envie Que d'etre bien mis et d'etre amoureux,

Lorsqu'en ajoutant votre age a mon age, Nous ne comptions pas a deux quarante ans, Et que, dans notre humble et petit menage, Tout, meme l'hiver, nous etait printemps?

Beaux jours! Manuel etait fier et sage, Paris s'asseyait a de saints banquets, Foy lancait la foudre, et votre corsage Avait une epingle ou je me piquais.

Tout vous contemplait. Avocat sans causes, Quand je vous menais au Prado diner, Vous etiez jolie au point que les roses Me faisaient l'effet de se retourner.

Je les entendais dire: Est elle belle! Comme elle sent bon! Quels cheveux a flots! Sous son mantelet elle cache une aile, Son bonnet charmant est a peine eclos.

J'errais avec toi, pressant ton bras souple. Les passants crovaient que l'amour charme Avait marie, dans notre heureux couple, Le doux mois d'avril au beau mois de mai.

Nous vivions caches, contents, porte close, Devorant l'amour, bon fruit defendu, Ma bouche n'avait pas dit une chose Que deja ton coeur avait repondu.

La Sorbonne etait l'endroit bucolique Ou je t'adorais du soir au matin. C'est ainsi qu'une ame amoureuse applique La carte du Tendre au pays Latin.

O place Maubert! o place Dauphine! Quand, dans le taudis frais et printanier, Tu tirais ton bas sur ton jambe fine, Je voyais un astre au fond du grenier.

J'ai fort lu Platon, mais rien ne m'en reste; Mieux que Malebranche et que Lamennais, Tu me demontrais la bonte celeste Avec une fleur que tu me donnais.

Je t'obeissais, tu m' etais soumise; O grenier dore! te lacer! te voir Aller et venir des l'aube en chemise, Mirant ton jeune front a ton vieux miroir.

Et qui done pourrait perde la memoire De ces temps d'aurore et de firmament, De rubans, de fleurs, de gaze et de moire, Ou l'amour begaye un argot charmant?

Nos jardins etaient un pot de tulipe; Tu masquais la vitre avec un jupon; Je prenais le bol de terre de pipe, Et je te donnais le tasse en japon.

Et ces grands malheurs qui nous faisaient rire! Ton manchon brule, ton boa perdu! Et ce cher portrait du divin Shakespeare Qu'un soir pour souper nons avons vendu!

J'etais mendiant et toi charitable. Je baisais au vol tes bras frais et ronds. Dante in folio nous servait de table Pour manger gaiment un cent de marrons.

La premiere fois qu'en mon joyeux bouge Je pris un baiser a ton levre en feu, Quand tu t'en allais decoiffee et rouge, Je restai tout pale et je crus en Dieu!

Te rappelles-tu nos bonhe urs sans nombre, Et tous ces fichus changes en chiffons? Oh que de soupirs, de nos coeurs pleins d'ombre, Se sont envoles dans les cieux profonds![53]

[53] Do you remember our sweet life, when we were both so young, and when we had no other desire in our hearts than to be well dressed and in love? When, by adding your age to my age, we could not count forty years between us, and when, in our humble and tiny household, everything was spring to us even in winter. Fair days! Manuel was proud and wise, Paris sat at sacred banquets, Foy launched thunderbolts, and your corsage had a pin on which I pricked myself. Everything gazed upon you. A briefless lawyer, when I took you to the Prado to dine, you were so beautiful that the roses seemed to me to turn round, and I heard them say: Is she not beautiful! How good she smells! What billowing hair! Beneath her mantle she hides a wing. Her charming bonnet is hardly unfolded. I wandered with thee, pressing thy supple arm. The passers-by thought that love bewitched had wedded, in our happy couple, the gentle month of April to the fair month of May. We lived concealed, content, with closed doors, devouring love, that sweet forbidden fruit. My mouth had not uttered a thing when thy heart had already responded. The Sorbonne was the bucolic spot where I adored thee from eve till morn. 'Tis thus that an amorous soul applies the chart of the Tender to the Latin country. O Place Maubert! O Place Dauphine! When in the fresh spring-like hut thou didst draw thy stocking on thy delicate leg, I saw a star in the depths of the garret. I have read a great deal of Plato, but nothing of it remains by me; better than Malebranche and then Lamennais thou didst demonstrate to me celestial goodness with a flower which thou gavest to me, I obeyed thee, thou didst submit to me; oh gilded garret! To lace thee! To behold thee going and coming from dawn in thy chemise, gazing at thy young brow in thine ancient mirror! And who, then, would forego the memory of those days of aurora and the firmament, of flowers, of gauze and of moire, when love stammers a charming slang? Our gardens consisted of a pot of tulips; thou didst mask the window with thy petticoat; I took the earthenware bowl and I gave thee the Japanese cup. And those great misfortunes which made us laugh! Thy cuff scorched, thy boa lost! And that dear portrait of the divine Shakespeare which we sold one evening that we might sup! I was a beggar and thou wert charitable. I kissed thy fresh round arms in haste. A folio Dante served us as a table on which to eat merrily a centime's worth of chestnuts. The first time that, in my joyous den, I snatched a kiss from thy fiery lip, when thou wentest forth, dishevelled and blushing, I turned deathly pale and I believed in God. Dost thou recall our innumerable joys, and all those fichus changed to rags? Oh! What sighs from our hearts full of gloom fluttered forth to the heavenly depths!

The hour, the spot, these souvenirs of youth recalled, a few stars which began to twinkle in the sky, the funeral repose of those deserted streets, the imminence of the inexorable adventure, which was in preparation, gave a pathetic charm to these verses murmured in a low tone in the dusk by Jean Prouvaire, who, as we have said, was a gentle poet.

In the meantime, a lamp had been lighted in the small barricade, and in the large one, one of those wax torches such as are to be met with on Shrove-Tuesday in front of vehicles loaded with masks, on their way to la Courtille. These torches, as the reader has seen, came from the Faubourg Saint-Antoine.

The torch had been placed in a sort of cage of paving-stones closed on three sides to shelter it from the wind, and disposed in such a fashion that all the light fell on the flag. The street and the barricade remained sunk in gloom, and nothing was to be seen except the red flag formidably illuminated as by an enormous dark-lantern.

This light enhanced the scarlet of the flag, with an indescribable and terrible purple.

在等待的时候他们干些什么呢？

我们应当谈出来，因为这是历史。

当男人做枪弹，妇女做绷带时，当一口大铁锅还在烈火上冒气，里面盛满熔化了的锡和铅，正待注入弹头模子时，当哨兵端着武器立在街垒上守卫时，当安灼拉全神贯注，巡视各处岗哨时，公白飞、古费拉克、让·勃鲁维尔、弗以伊、博须埃、若李、巴阿雷，还有另外几个，互相邀集在一起，正如在平时平静的日子里，同学们促膝谈心那样，坐在那已成为避弹地窖的酒店的一个角落里，离他们建造的堡垒只两步路的地方，把他们上好子弹的枪支靠在他们的椅背上，这一伙壮美的年轻人，开始念一些情诗。

什么诗呢？这些：

你还记得我们的甜蜜生活吗？

当时我俩都年少，

我们一心向往的，

只是穿着入时，你我长相好。

在当时，你的年纪，我的年纪，

合在一起，四十也还到不了；

我们那简陋的小家庭，

即使在寒冬，也处处是春光好。

那些日子多美好哟！曼努埃尔豪迈而明智，

帕里斯正坐上圣餐筵席，

富瓦叱咤似惊雷，

我被戳痛在你汗衣的别针尖儿上。

人人都爱偷望你！我，一个无人过问的律师，

当我陪你去普拉多晚餐时，

你是多么俏丽！我暗自寻思：

蔷薇花儿见了你，也会转过脸儿背着你。

我听到他们说：她多美！她多香！

她的头发多么象波浪！

可惜她的短大衣，遮去了她的小翅膀；

她头戴玲珑小帽，好似蓓蕾初放。

我常挽着你温柔的手臂，漫步街头，

过往行人见了都认为：

爱神通过我俩这对幸福的情侣，

已把明媚的初夏许配给艳阳天。

我们掩上门，不见人，象偷啖天庭禁果，

饱尝爱的滋味，欢度美好光阴。

我还没有说出心中话，

你已先我表同心。

索邦真是个销魂处，在那里，

我温存崇拜你，从傍晚到天明。

多情种子就这样，

拉丁区里订鸳盟。

呵莫贝尔广场！呵太子妃广场！

在那春意盎然的小楼上，

当你把长袜穿到你秀美的大腿上，

我看见一颗明星出现在阁楼里。

我曾攻读柏拉图①，

但已完全无印象。

马勒伯朗士②和拉梅耐，也都不能和你比；

你给我的一朵花儿，

比他们更能显示上苍的美意。

我对你百依百顺，你对我有求必应；

呵金光闪耀的阁楼！我在那里搂抱你！

天欲晓，我见你，披睡衣，举旧镜，

来回移步床前，窥望镜中倩影。

晨曦，星夜，花间，飘带，绉纱，绫绮，

美景良辰，谁能忘记！

相对喁喁私语时，

村言俚语全无忌。

我们的花园是一钵郁金香，

你把你的衬裙当作窗帘挂。

我将白泥烟斗手中拿，

并把那日本瓷杯递给你。

还有那些常使我们笑话的灾难！

你的手笼烧着了！你的长围巾丢失了！

有一夜，为了同去吃一餐，

我们竟把诗圣莎士比亚的画像卖掉了！

我象个讨饭的化子，而你却乐善好施。

我常乘你不提防，偷吻你鲜润丰腴的臂膀。

把但丁的对开本拿来当作台子使，

我们快乐无边，同吃了一百个栗子。

当我第一次在那喜气洋洋的破楼里，

吻了你火热的嘴唇，

你头发散乱脸绯红，撇下我走了时，

我面色苍白竟至相信有上帝。

记取我们种种说不完的幸福，

还有那废弃了的无数丝巾绸帕！

呵！叹息声声，

从我们郁结的心头飞向寥廓天际！

①柏拉图（Platon，约前427?47），古希腊唯心主义哲学家，奴隶主贵族的思想家，自然经济的维护者。

②马勒伯朗士（Nicolas　Malebranche，1638?715），法国唯心主义哲学家，形而上学者。

那样的时刻，那样的环境，对青年时期种种往事的追忆，开始在天空闪烁的星星，荒凉死寂的街巷以及吉少凶多、迫在眉睫的严酷考验，都为让·勃鲁维尔这个温柔悱恻的诗人低声吟诵着的这些诗句，增添了一层凄迷的魅力。

这时在那小街垒里燃起了一盏彩色纸灯笼，大街垒里也燃起了浇了蜡的火炬。这种火炬，我们已经知道，来自圣安东尼郊区，每年油荤星期二①，人们戴着面具挤上马车向拉古尔第区进发时，点燃在马车前面的那种火炬。

①按天主教教规，每年在三月前后的四十天中，教徒不吃肉不喝酒，是为封斋期。封斋期在一个星期三开始。斋期开始前举行狂欢节，大吃大喝大乐若干天，到封斋期前夕星期二晚，进入最高潮，是为油荤星期二。拉古尔第区在巴黎东郊，是狂欢活动最集中的地方。

那火炬被插在三面用石块挡住的避风笼子里，让火炬的光象盏聚光灯似的，全部射在那面红旗上。街道和街垒都仍处在黑暗中，人们只能看见那面亮得可怕的红旗。

火炬的光在旗子的朱红色上增添一种说不出多么骇人的紫红颜色。