按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Traversiere…Saint…Honoreis not that a villainous street？ Look at the
wretched little houses with two windows on a floor； where vice； crime；
and misery abound。 The narrow streets exposed to the north； where the
sun never comes more than three or four times a year； are the
cut…throat streets which murder with impunity； the authorities of the
present day do not meddle with them； but in former times the
Parliament might perhaps have summoned the lieutenant of police and
reprimanded him for the state of things； and it would； at least； have
issued some decree against such streets； as it once did against the
wigs of the Chapter of Beauvais。 And yet Monsieur Benoiston de
Chateauneuf has proved that the mortality of these streets is double
that of others！ To sum up such theories by a single example： is not
the rue Fromentin both murderous and profligate！
These observations； incomprehensible out of Paris； will doubtless be
understood by musing men of thought and poesy and pleasure； who know；
while rambling about Paris； how to harvest the mass of floating
interests which may be gathered at all hours within her walls； to them
Paris is the most delightful and varied of monsters： here； a pretty
woman； farther on； a haggard pauper； here； new as the coinage of a new
reign； there； in this corner； elegant as a fashionable woman。 A
monster； moreover； complete！ Its garrets； as it were； a head full of
knowledge and genius； its first storeys stomachs repleted； its shops；
actual feet； where the busy ambulating crowds are moving。 Ah！ what an
ever…active life the monster leads！ Hardly has the last vibration of
the last carriage coming from a ball ceased at its heart before its
arms are moving at the barriers and it shakes itself slowly into
motion。 Doors open； turning on their hinges like the membrane of some
huge lobster； invisibly manipulated by thirty thousand men or women；
of whom each individual occupies a space of six square feet； but has a
kitchen； a workshop； a bed； children； a garden； little light to see
by； but must see all。 Imperceptibly； the articulations begin to crack；
motion communicates itself； the street speaks。 By mid…day； all is
alive； the chimneys smoke； the monster eats； then he roars； and his
thousand paws begin to ramp。 Splendid spectacle！ But； O Paris！ he who
has not admired your gloomy passages； your gleams and flashes of
light； your deep and silent /cul…de…sacs/； who has not listened to
your murmurings between midnight and two in the morning； knows nothing
as yet of your true poesy； nor of your broad and fantastic contrasts。
There are a few amateurs who never go their way heedlessly； who savor
their Paris； so to speak； who know its physiognomy so well that they
see every wart； and pimple； and redness。 To others； Paris is always
that monstrous marvel； that amazing assemblage of activities； of
schemes； of thoughts； the city of a hundred thousand tales； the head
of the universe。 But to those few； Paris is sad or gay； ugly or
beautiful； living or dead； to them Paris is a creature； every man；
every fraction of a house is a lobe of the cellular tissue of that
great courtesan whose head and heart and fantastic customs they know
so well。 These men are lovers of Paris； they lift their noses at such
or such a corner of a street； certain that they can see the face of a
clock； they tell a friend whose tobacco…pouch is empty； 〃Go down that
passage and turn to the left； there's a tobacconist next door to a
confectioner； where there's a pretty girl。〃 Rambling about Paris is；
to these poets； a costly luxury。 How can they help spending precious
minutes before the dramas； disasters； faces； and picturesque events
which meet us everywhere amid this heaving queen of cities； clothed in
posters；who has； nevertheless； not a single clean corner； so
complying is she to the vices of the French nation！ Who has not
chanced to leave his home early in the morning； intending to go to
some extremity of Paris； and found himself unable to get away from the
centre of it by the dinner…hour？ Such a man will know how to excuse
this vagabondizing start upon our tale； which； however； we here sum up
in an observation both useful and novel； as far as any observation can
be novel in Paris； where there is nothing new；not even the statue
erected yesterday； on which some young gamin has already scribbled his
name。
Well； then！ there are streets； or ends of streets； there are houses；
unknown for the most part to persons of social distinction； to which a
woman of that class cannot go without causing cruel and very wounding
things to be thought of her。 Whether the woman be rich and has a
carriage； whether she is on foot； or is disguised； if she enters one
of these Parisian defiles at any hour of the day； she compromises her
reputation as a virtuous woman。 If； by chance； she is there at nine in
the evening the conjectures that an observer permits himself to make
upon her may prove fearful in their consequences。 But if the woman is
young and pretty； if she enters a house in one of those streets； if
the house has a long； dark； damp； and evil…smelling passage…way； at
the end of which flickers the pallid gleam of an oil lamp； and if
beneath that gleam appears the horrid face of a withered old woman
with fleshless fingers； ah； then！ and we say it in the interests of
young and pretty women； that woman is lost。 She is at the mercy of the
first man of her acquaintance who sees her in that Parisian slough。
There is more than one street in Paris where such a meeting may lead
to a frightful drama； a bloody drama of death and love； a drama of the
modern school。
Unhappily； this scene； this modern drama itself； will be comprehended
by only a small number of persons； and it is a pity to tell the tale
to a public which cannot enter into its local merit。 But who can
flatter himself that he will ever be understood？ We all die unknown
'tis the saying of women and of authors。
At half…past eight o'clock one evening； in the rue Pagevin； in the
days when that street had no wall which did not echo some infamous
word； and was； in the direction of the rue Soly； the narrowest and
most impassable street in Paris （not excepting the least frequented
corner of the most deserted street）；at the beginning of the month of
February about thirteen years ago； a young man； by one of those
chances which come but once in life； turned the corner of the rue
Pagevin to enter the rue des Vieux…Augustins； close to the rue Soly。
There； this young man； who lived himself in the rue de Bourbon； saw in
a woman near whom he had been unconsciously walking； a vague
resemblance to the prettiest woman in Paris； a chaste and delightful
person； with whom he was secretly and passionately in love；a love
without hope； she was married。 In a moment his heart leaped； an
intolerable heat surged from his centre and flowed through all his
veins； his back turned cold； the skin of his head crept。 He loved； he
was young； he knew Paris； and his knowledge did not permit him to be
ignorant of all there was of possible infamy in an elegant； rich；
young； and beautiful woman walking there； alone； with a furtively
criminal step。 /She/ in tha