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existence of this document。 But the document itselfwhat has become of it？
Sir Thomas Raleigh went to end his days by the shores of the Lake of
Como； whither he carried with him a part of his literary wealth。 Where did
the books go after the death of that aristocratic collector？ Where could the
manuscript of the Clerk Alexander have gone？
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
〃And why；〃 I asked myself； 〃why should I have learned that this
precious book exists； if I am never to possess itnever even to see it？ I
would go to seek it in the burning heart of Africa； or in the icy regions of
the Pole if I knew it were there。 But I do not know where it is。 I do not
know if it be guarded in a triple… locked iron case by some jealous
biblomaniac。 I do not know if it be growing mouldy in the attic of some
ignoramus。 I shudder at the thought that perhaps its tore…out leaves may
have been used to cover the pickle…jars of some housekeeper。〃
August 30； 1850
The heavy heat compelled me to walk slowly。 I kept close to the
walls of the north quays； and； in the lukewarm shade； the shops of the
dealers in old books； engravings； and antiquated furniture drew my eyes
and appealed to my fancy。 Rummaging and idling among these； I hastily
enjoyed some verses spiritedly thrown off by a poet of the Pleiad。 I
examined an elegant Masquerade by Watteau。 I felt； with my eye； the
weight of a two…handed sword； a steel gorgerin； a morion。 What a thick
helmet！ What a ponderous breastplate Seigneur！ A giant's garb？ Nothe
carapace of an insect。 The men of those days were cuirassed like beetles；
their weakness was within them。 To…day； on the contrary； our strength is
interior； and our armed souls dwell in feeble bodies。
。。。Here is a pastel…portrait of a lady of the old timethe face； vague like
a shadow； smiles； and a hand； gloved with an openwork mitten； retains
upon her satiny knees a lap…dog； with a ribbon about its neck。 That picture
fills me with a sort of charming melancholy。 Let those who have no half…
effaced pastels in their own hearts laugh at me！ Like the horse that scents
the stable； I hasten my pace as I near my lodgings。 There it isthat great
human hive； in which I have a cell； for the purpose of therein distilling the
somewhat acrid honey of erudition。 I climb the stairs with slow effort。
Only a few steps more； and I shall be at my own door。 But I divine； rather
than see； a robe descending with a sound of rustling silk。 I stop； and press
myself against the balustrade to make room。 The lady who is coming
down is bareheaded； shi is young； she sings； her eyes and teeth gleam in
the shadow； for she laughs with lips and eyes at the same time。 She is
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
certainly a neighbor； and a very familiar one。 She holds in her arms a
pretty child； a little boy quite naked； like the son of a goddess； he has a
medal hung round his neck by a little silver chain。 I see him sucking his
thumb and looking at me with those big eyes so newly opened on this old
universe。 The mother simultaneously looks at me in a sly； mysterious way；
she stopsI think blushes a littleand holds out the little creature to me。
The baby has a pretty wrinkle between wrist and arm； a pretty wrinkle
about his neck； and all over him； from head to foot； the daintiest dimples
laugh in his rosy flesh。
The mamma shows him to me with pride。
〃Monsieur；〃 she says； 〃don't you think he is very prettymy little
boy？〃
She takes one tiny hand； lifts it to the child's own lips； and； drawing
out the darling pink fingers again towards me； says；
〃Baby； throw the gentleman a kiss。〃
Then； folding the little being in her arms； she flees away with the
agility of a cat； and is lost to sight in a corridor which； judging by the
odour； must lead to some kitchen。
I enter my own quarters。
〃Therese； who can that young mother be whom I saw bareheaded on
the stairs just now； with a pretty little boy？〃
And Therese replies that it was Madame Coccoz。
I stare up at the ceiling； as if trying to obtain some further illumination。
Therese then recalls to me the little book…peddler who tried to sell me
almanacs last year； while his wife was lying in。
〃And Coccoz himself？〃 I asked。
I was answered that I would never see him again。 The poor little man
had been laid away underground； without my knowledge； and； indeed；
with the knowledge of very few people； on a short time after the happy
delivery of Madame Coccoz。 I leaned that his wife had been able to
console herself： I did likewise。
〃But； Therese；〃 I asked； 〃has Madame Coccoz got everything she
needs in that attic of hers？〃
〃You would be a great dupe； Monsieur；〃 replied my housekeeper； 〃if
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
you should bother yourself about that creature。 They gave her notice to
quit the attic when the roof was repaired。 But she stays there yetin spite
of the proprietor； the agent； the concierge； and the bailiffs。 I think she has
bewitched every one of them。 She will leave the attic when she pleases；
Monsieur； but she is going to leave in her own carriage。 Let me tell you
that！〃
Therese reflected for a moment； and then uttered these words：
〃A pretty face is a curse from Heaven。〃
〃Then I ought to thank Heaven for having spared me that curse。 But
here！ put my hat and cane away。 I am going to amuse myself with a few
pages of Moreri。 If I can trust my old fox…nose； we are going to have a
nicely flavoured pullet for dinner。 Look after that estimable fowl； my girl；
and spare your neighbors； so that you and your old master may be spared
by them in turn。〃
Having thus spoken； I proceeded to follow out the tufted ramifications
of a princely genealogy。
May 7； 1851
I have passed the winter according to the ideal of the sages； in angello
cum libello； and now the swallows of the Quai Malaquais find me on their
return about as when they left me。 He who lives little； changes little； and it
is scarcely living