a personal record- 第26部分

Provence　and　chiding　me　boisterously　for　lying　abed。　　How



pleasantly　he　startled　me　by　his　noisy　objurgations　to　be　up　and



off　instantly　for　a　〃three　years'　campaign　in　the　South　Seas！〃　　O



magic　words！　　〃Une　campagne　de　trois　ans　dans　les　mers　du



sud〃that　is　the　French　for　a　three　years'　deep…water　voyage。







He　gave　me　a　delightful　waking；　and　his　friendliness　was



unwearied；　but　I　fear　he　did　not　enter　upon　the　quest　for　a　ship



for　me　in　a　very　solemn　spirit。　　He　had　been　at　sea　himself；　but



had　left　off　at　the　age　of　twenty…five；　finding　he　could　earn　his



living　on　shore　in　a　much　more　agreeable　manner。　　He　was　related



to　an　incredible　number　of　Marseilles　well…to…do　families　of　a



certain　class。　　One　of　his　uncles　was　a　ship…broker　of　good



standing；　with　a　large　connection　among　English　ships；　other



relatives　of　his　dealt　in　ships'　stores；　owned　sail…lofts；　sold



chains　and　anchors；　were　master…stevedores；　calkers；　shipwrights。







His　grandfather　（I　think）　was　a　dignitary　of　a　kind；　the　Syndic



of　the　Pilots。　　I　made　acquaintances　among　these　people；　but



mainly　among　the　pilots。　　The　very　first　whole　day　I　ever　spent



on　salt　water　was　by　invitation；　in　a　big　half…decked　pilot…boat；



cruising　under　close　reefs　on　the　lookout；　in　misty；　blowing



weather；　for　the　sails　of　ships　and　the　smoke　of　steamers　rising



out　there；　beyond　the　slim　and　tall　Planier　lighthouse　cutting



the　line　of　the　wind…swept　horizon　with　a　white　perpendicular



stroke。　　They　were　hospitable　souls；　these　sturdy　Provencal



seamen。　　Under　the　general　designation　of　le　petit　ami　de



Baptistin　I　was　made　the　guest　of　the　corporation　of　pilots；　and



had　the　freedom　of　their　boats　night　or　day。　　And　many　a　day　and



a　night；　too；　did　I　spend　cruising　with　these　rough；　kindly　men；



under　whose　auspices　my　intimacy　with　the　sea　began。　　Many　a　time



〃the　little　friend　of　Baptistin〃　had　the　hooded　cloak　of　the



Mediterranean　sailor　thrown　over　him　by　their　honest　hands　while



dodging　at　night　under　the　lee　of　Chateau　daft　on　the　watch　for



the　lights　of　ships。　　Their　sea　tanned　faces；　whiskered　or



shaved；　lean　or　full；　with　the　intent；　wrinkled　sea　eyes　of　the



pilot　breed；　and　here　and　there　a　thin　gold　hoop　at　the　lobe　of　a



hairy　ear；　bent　over　my　sea　infancy。　　The　first　operation　of



seamanship　I　had　an　opportunity　of　observing　was　the　boarding　of



ships　at　sea；　at　all　times；　in　all　states　of　the　weather。　　They



gave　it　to　me　to　the　full。　　And　I　have　been　invited　to　sit　in



more　than　one　tall；　dark　house　of　the　old　town　at　their



hospitable　board；　had　the　bouillabaisse　ladled　out　into　a　thick



plate　by　their　high…voiced；　broad…browed　wives；　talked　to　their



daughtersthick…set　girls；　with　pure　profiles；　glorious　masses



of　black　hair　arranged　with　complicated　art；　dark　eyes；　and



dazzlingly　white　teeth。







I　had　also　other　acquaintances　of　quite　a　different　sort。　　One　of



them；　Madame　Delestang；　an　imperious；　handsome　lady　in　a



statuesque　style；　would　carry　me　off　now　and　then　on　the　front



seat　of　her　carriage　to　the　Prado；　at　the　hour　of　fashionable



airing。　　She　belonged　to　one　of　the　old　aristocratic　families　in



the　south。　　In　her　haughty　weariness　she　used　to　make　me　think　of



Lady　Dedlock　in　Dickens's　〃Bleak　House；〃　a　work　of　the　master　for



which　I　have　such　an　admiration；　or　rather　such　an　intense　and



unreasoning　affection；　dating　from　the　days　of　my　childhood；　that



its　very　weaknesses　are　more　precious　to　me　than　the　strength　of



other　men's　work。　　I　have　read　it　innumerable　times；　both　in



Polish　and　in　English；　I　have　read　it　only　the　other　day；　and；　by



a　not　very　surprising　inversion；　the　Lady　Dedlock　of　the　book



reminded　me　strongly　of　the　〃belle　Madame　Delestang。〃







Her　husband　（as　I　sat　facing　them　both）；　with　his　thin；　bony　nose



and　a　perfectly　bloodless；　narrow　physiognomy　clamped　together；



as　it　were；　by　short；　formal　side　whiskers；　had　nothing　of　Sir



Leicester　Dedlock's　〃grand　air〃　and　courtly　solemnity。　　He



belonged　to　the　haute　bourgeoisie　only；　and　was　a　banker；　with



whom　a　modest　credit　had　been　opened　for　my　needs。　　He　was　such



an　ardentno；　such　a　frozen…up；　mummified　Royalist　that　he　used



in　current　conversation　turns　of　speech　contemporary；　I　should



say；　with　the　good　Henri　Quatre；　and　when　talking　of　money



matters；　reckoned　not　in　francs；　like　the　common；　godless　herd　of



post…Revolutionary　Frenchmen；　but　in　obsolete　and　forgotten



ecusecus　of　all　money　units　in　the　world！as　though　Louis



Quatorze　were　still　promenading　in　royal　splendour　the　gardens　of



Versailles；　and　Monsieur　de　Colbert　busy　with　the　direction　of



maritime　affairs。　　You　must　admit　that　in　a　banker　of　the



nineteenth　century　it　was　a　quaint　idiosyncrasy。　　Luckily；　in　the



counting…house　（it　occupied　part　of　the　ground　floor　of　the



Delestang　town　residence；　in　a　silent；　shady　street）　the　accounts



were　kept　in　modern　money；　so　that　I　never　had　any　difficulty　in



making　my　wants　known　to　the　grave；　low…voiced；　decorous；



Legitimist　（I　suppose）　clerks；　sitting　in　the　perpetual　gloom　of



heavily　barred　windows　behind　the　sombre；　ancient　counters；



beneath　lofty　ceilings　with　heavily　molded　cornices。　　I　always



felt；　on　going　out；　as　though　I　had　been　in　the　temple　of　some



very　dignified　but　completely　temporal　religion。　　And　it　was



generally　on　these　occasions　that　under　the　great　carriage



gateway　Lady　DedI　mean　Madame　Delestangcatching　sight　of　my



raised　hat；　would　beckon　me　with　an　amiable　imperiousness　to　the



side　of　the　carriage；　and　suggest　with　an　air　of　amused



nonchalance；　〃Venez　donc　faire　un　tour　avec　nous；〃　to　which　the



husband　would　add　an　encouraging　〃C'est　ca。　　Allons；　montez；



jeune　homme。〃　　He　questioned　me　some　times；　significantly　but



with　perfect　tact　and　delicacy；　as　to　the　way　I　employed　my　time；



and　never　failed　to　express　the　hope　that　I　wrote　regularly　to　my



〃honoured　uncle。〃　　I　made　no　secret　of　the　way　I　employed　my



time；　and　I　rather　fancy　that　my　artless　tales　of　the　pilots　and



so　on　entertained　Madame　Delestang　so　far　as　that　ineffable　woman



could　be　entertained　by　the　prattle　of　a　youngster　very　full　of



his　new　experience　among　strange　men　and　strange　sensations。　　She



expressed　no　opinions；　and　talked　to　me　very　little；　yet　her



portrait　hangs　in　the　gallery　of　my　intimate　memories；　fixed



there　by　a　short　and　fleeting　episode。　　One　day；　after　putting　me



down　at　the　corner　of　a　street；　she　offered　me　her　hand；　and



detained　me；　by　a　slight　pressure；　for　a　moment。　　While　the



husband　sat　motionless　and　looking　straight　before　him；　she



leaned　forward　in　the　carriage　to　say；　with　just　a　shade　of



warning　in　her　leisurely　tone：　〃Il　faut；　cependant；　faire



attention　a　ne　pas　gater　sa　vie。〃　　I　had　never　seen　her　face　so



close　to　mine　before。　　She　made　my　heart　beat　and　caused　me　to



remain　thoughtful　for　a　whole　evening。　　Certainly　one　must；　after



all；　take　care　not　to　spoil　one's　life。　　But　she　did　not　know



nobody　could　knowhow　impossible　that　danger　seemed　to　me。











VII







Can　the　transports　of　first　love　be　calmed；　checked；　turned　to　a



cold　suspicion　of　the　future　by　a　grave　quotation　from　a　work　on



political　economy？　　I　askis　it　conceivable？　　Is　it　possible？　



Would　it　be　right？　　With　my　feet　on　the　very　shores　of　the　sea



and　about　to　embrace　my　blue…eyed　dream；　what　could　a



good…natured　warning　as　to　spoiling　one's　life　mean　to　my



youthful　passion？　　It　was　the　most　unexpected　and　the　last；　too；



of　the　many　warnings　I　had　received。　It　sounded　to　me　very



bizarreand；　uttered　as　it　was　in　the　very　presence　of　my



enchantress；　like　the　voice　of　folly；　the　voice　of　ignorance。　



But　I　was　not　so　callous　or　so　stupid　as　not　to　recognize　there



also　the　voice　of　kindness。　　And　then　the　vagueness　of　the



warningbecause　what　can　be　the　meaning　of　the　phrase：　to　spoil



one's　life？arrested　one's　attention　by　its　air　of　wise



profundity。　　At　any　rate；　as　I　have　said　before；　the　words　of　la



belle　Madame　Delestang　made　me　thoughtful　for　a　whole　evening。　　I



tried　to　understand　and　tried　in　vain；　not　having　any　notion　of



life　as　an　enterprise　that　could　be　mi　managed。　　But　I　left　off



being　thoughtful　shortly　before　midnight；　at　which　hour；　haunted



by　no　ghosts　of　the　past　and　by　no　visions　of　the　future；　I



walked　down　the　quay　of　the　Vieux　Port　to　join　the　pilot…boat　of



my　friends。　　I　knew　where　she　would　be　waiting　for　her　crew；　in



the　little　bit　of　a　canal　behind　the　fort　at　the　entrance　of　the



harbour。　　The　deserted　quays　looked　very　white　and　dry　in　the



moonlight；　and　as　if　frostbound　in　the　sharp　air　of　that　December



night。　　A　prowler　or　two　slunk　by　noiselessly；　a　custom…house



guard；　soldier…like；　a　sword　by　his　side；　paced　close　under　the



bowsprits　of　the　long　row　of　ships　moored　bows　on　opposite　the



long；　slightly　curved；　continuous　flat　wall　of　the　tall　houses



that　seemed　to　be　one　immense　abandoned　building　with　innumerable



windows　shuttered　closely。　　Only　here　and　there　a　small；　dingy



cafe　for　sailors　cast　a　yellow　gleam　on　the　bluish　sheen　of　the



flagstones。　　Passing　by；　one　heard　a　deep　murmur　of　voices



insidenothing　more。　　How　quiet　everything　was　at　the　end　of　the



quays　on　the　last　night　on　which　I　went　out　for　a　service　cruise



as　a　guest　of　the　Marseilles　pilots！　　Not　a　footstep；　except　my



own；　not　a　sigh；　not　a　whispering　echo　of　the　usual　revelry　going