the girl with the golden eyes- 第1部分

The　Girl　with　the　Golden　Eyes

by　Honore　de　Balzac

Translated　by　Ellen　Marriage




DEDICATION

To　Eugene　Delacroix；　Painter。




Note

　　The　Girl　with　the　Golden　Eyes　is　the　third　part　of　a　trilogy。　Part
　　one　is　entitled　Ferragus　and　part　two　is　The　Duchesse　de　Langeais。
　　The　three　stories　are　frequently　combined　under　the　title　The
　　Thirteen。




THE　GIRL　WITH　THE　GOLDEN　EYES



One　of　those　sights　in　which　most　horror　is　to　be　encountered　is；
surely；　the　general　aspect　of　the　Parisian　populacea　people　fearful
to　behold；　gaunt；　yellow；　tawny。　Is　not　Paris　a　vast　field　in
perpetual　turmoil　from　a　storm　of　interests　beneath　which　are　whirled
along　a　crop　of　human　beings；　who　are；　more　often　than　not；　reaped　by
death；　only　to　be　born　again　as　pinched　as　ever；　men　whose　twisted　and
contorted　faces　give　out　at　every　pore　the　instinct；　the　desire；　the
poisons　with　which　their　brains　are　pregnant；　not　faces　so　much　as
masks；　masks　of　weakness；　masks　of　strength；　masks　of　misery；　masks　of
joy；　masks　of　hypocrisy；　all　alike　worn　and　stamped　with　the　indelible
signs　of　a　panting　cupidity？　What　is　it　they　want？　Gold　or　pleasure？　A
few　observations　upon　the　soul　of　Paris　may　explain　the　causes　of　its
cadaverous　physiognomy；　which　has　but　two　agesyouth　and　decay：
youth；　wan　and　colorless；　decay；　painted　to　seem　young。　In　looking　at
this　excavated　people；　foreigners；　who　are　not　prone　to　reflection；
experience　at　first　a　movement　of　disgust　towards　the　capital；　that
vast　workshop　of　delights；　from　which；　in　a　short　time；　they　cannot
even　extricate　themselves；　and　where　they　stay　willingly　to　be
corrupted。　A　few　words　will　suffice　to　justify　physiologically　the
almost　infernal　hue　of　Parisian　faces；　for　it　is　not　in　mere　sport
that　Paris　has　been　called　a　hell。　Take　the　phrase　for　truth。　There
all　is　smoke　and　fire；　everything　gleams；　crackles；　flames；
evaporates；　dies　out；　then　lights　up　again；　with　shooting　sparks；　and
is　consumed。　In　no　other　country　has　life　ever　been　more　ardent　or
acute。　The　social　nature；　even　in　fusion；　seems　to　say　after　each
completed　work：　〃Pass　on　to　another！〃　just　as　Nature　says　herself。
Like　Nature　herself；　this　social　nature　is　busied　with　insects　and
flowers　of　a　dayephemeral　trifles；　and　so；　too；　it　throws　up　fire
and　flame　from　its　eternal　crater。　Perhaps；　before　analyzing　the
causes　which　lend　a　special　physiognomy　to　each　tribe　of　this
intelligent　and　mobile　nation；　the　general　cause　should　be　pointed　out
which　bleaches　and　discolors；　tints　with　blue　or　brown　individuals　in
more　or　less　degree。

By　dint　of　taking　interest　in　everything；　the　Parisian　ends　by　being
interested　in　nothing。　No　emotion　dominating　his　face；　which　friction
has　rubbed　away；　it　turns　gray　like　the　faces　of　those　houses　upon
which　all　kinds　of　dust　and　smoke　have　blown。　In　effect；　the　Parisian；
with　his　indifference　on　the　day　for　what　the　morrow　will　bring　forth；
lives　like　a　child；　whatever　may　be　his　age。　He　grumbles　at
everything；　consoles　himself　for　everything；　jests　at　everything；
forgets；　desires；　and　tastes　everything；　seizes　all　with　passion；
quits　all　with　indifferencehis　kings；　his　conquests；　his　glory；　his
idols　of　bronze　or　glassas　he　throws　away　his　stockings；　his　hats；
and　his　fortune。　In　Paris　no　sentiment　can　withstand　the　drift　of
things；　and　their　current　compels　a　struggle　in　which　the　passions　are
relaxed：　there　love　is　a　desire；　and　hatred　a　whim；　there's　no　true
kinsman　but　the　thousand…franc　note；　no　better　friend　than　the
pawnbroker。　This　universal　toleration　bears　its　fruits；　and　in　the
salon；　as　in　the　street；　there　is　no　one　/de　trop/；　there　is　no　one
absolutely　useful；　or　absolutely　harmfulknaves　or　fools；　men　of　wit
or　integrity。　There　everything　is　tolerated：　the　government　and　the
guillotine；　religion　and　the　cholera。　You　are　always　acceptable　to
this　world；　you　will　never　be　missed　by　it。　What；　then；　is　the
dominating　impulse　in　this　country　without　morals；　without　faith；
without　any　sentiment；　wherein；　however；　every　sentiment；　belief；　and
moral　has　its　origin　and　end？　It　is　gold　and　pleasure。　Take　those　two
words　for　a　lantern；　and　explore　that　great　stucco　cage；　that　hive
with　its　black　gutters；　and　follow　the　windings　of　that　thought　which
agitates；　sustains；　and　occupies　it！　Consider！　And；　in　the　first
place；　examine　the　world　which　possesses　nothing。

The　artisan；　the　man　of　the　proletariat；　who　uses　his　hands；　his
tongue；　his　back；　his　right　arm；　his　five　fingers；　to　livewell；　this
very　man；　who　should　be　the　first　to　economize　his　vital　principle；
outruns　his　strength；　yokes　his　wife　to　some　machine；　wears　out　his
child；　and　ties　him　to　the　wheel。　The　manufactureror　I　know　not　what
secondary　thread　which　sets　in　motion　all　these　folk　who　with　their
foul　hands　mould　and　gild　porcelain；　sew　coats　and　dresses；　beat　out
iron；　turn　wood　and　steel；　weave　hemp；　festoon　crystal；　imitate
flowers；　work　woolen　things；　break　in　horses；　dress　harness；　carve　in
copper；　paint　carriages；　blow　glass；　corrode　the　diamond；　polish
metals；　turn　marble　into　leaves；　labor　on　pebbles；　deck　out　thought；
tinge；　bleach；　or　blacken　everythingwell；　this　middleman　has　come　to
that　world　of　sweat　and　good…will；　of　study　and　patience；　with
promises　of　lavish　wages；　either　in　the　name　of　the　town's　caprices　or
with　the　voice　of　the　monster　dubbed　speculation。　Thus；　these
/quadrumanes/　set　themselves　to　watch；　work；　and　suffer；　to　fast；
sweat；　and　bestir　them。　Then；　careless　of　the　future；　greedy　of
pleasure；　counting　on　their　right　arm　as　the　painter　on　his　palette；
lords　for　one　day；　they　throw　their　money　on　Mondays　to　the　/cabarets/
which　gird　the　town　like　a　belt　of　mud；　haunts　of　the　most　shameless
of　the　daughters　of　Venus；　in　which　the　periodical　money　of　this
people；　as　ferocious　in　their　pleasures　as　they　are　calm　at　work；　is
squandered　as　it　had　been　at　play。　For　five　days；　then；　there　is　no
repose　for　this　laborious　portion　of　Paris！　It　is　given　up　to　actions
which　make　it　warped　and　rough；　lean　and　pale；　gush　forth　with　a
thousand　fits　of　creative　energy。　And　then　its　pleasure；　its　repose；
are　an　exhausting　debauch；　swarthy　and　black　with　blows；　white　with
intoxication；　or　yellow　with　indigestion。　It　lasts　but　two　days；　but
it　steals　to…morrow's　bread；　the　week's　soup；　the　wife's　dress；　the
child's　wretched　rags。　Men；　born　doubtless　to　be　beautifulfor　all
creatures　have　a　relative　beautyare　enrolled　from　their　childhood
beneath　the　yoke　of　force；　beneath　the　rule　of　the　hammer；　the　chisel；
the　loom；　and　have　been　promptly　vulcanized。　Is　not　Vulcan；　with　his
hideousness　and　his　strength；　the　emblem　of　this　strong　and　hideous
nationsublime　in　its　mechanical　intelligence；　patient　in　its　season；
and　once　in　a　century　terrible；　inflammable　as　gunpowder；　and　ripe
with　brandy　for　the　madness　of　revolution；　with　wits　enough；　in　fine；
to　take　fire　at　a　captious　word；　which　signifies　to　it　always：　Gold
and　Pleasure！　If　we　comprise　in　it　all　those　who　hold　out　their　hands
for　an　alms；　for　lawful　wages；　or　the　five　francs　that　are　granted　to
every　kind　of　Parisian　prostitution；　in　short；　for　all　the　money　well
or　ill　earned；　this　people　numbers　three　hundred　thousand　individuals。
Were　it　not　for　the　/cabarets/；　would　not　the　Government　be　overturned
every　Tuesday？　Happily；　by　Tuesday；　this　people　is　glutted；　sleeps　off
its　pleasure；　is　penniless；　and　returns　to　its　labor；　to　dry　bread；
stimulated　by　a　need　of　material　procreation；　which　has　become　a　habit
to　it。　None　the　less；　this　people　has　its　phenomenal　virtues；　its
complete　men；　unknown　Napoleons；　who　are　the　type　of　its　strength
carried　to　its　highest　expression；　and　sum　up　its　social　capacity　in
an　existence　wherein　thought　and　movement　combine　less　to　bring　joy
into　it　than　to　neutralize　the　action　of　sorrow。

Chance　has　made　an　artisan　economical；　chance　has　favored　him　with
forethought；　he　has　been　able　to　look　forward；　has　met　with　a　wife　and
found　himself　a　father；　and；　after　some　years　of　hard　privation；　he
embarks　in　some　little　draper's　business；　hires　a　shop。　If　neither
sickness　nor　vice　blocks　his　wayif　he　has　prosperedthere　is　the
sketch　of　this　normal　life。

And；　in　the　first　place；　hail　to　that　king　of　Parisian　activity；　to
whom　time　and　space　give　way。　Yes；　hail　to　that　being；　composed　of
saltpetre　and　gas；　who　makes　children　for　France　during　his　laborious
nights；　and　in　the　day　multiplies　his　personality　for　the　service；
glory；　and　pleasure　of　his　fellow…citizens。　This　man　solves　the
problem　of　sufficing　at　once　to　his　amiable　wife；　to　his　hearth；　to
the　/Constitutionnel/；　to　his　office；　to　the　National　Guard；　to　the
opera；　and　to　God；　but；　only　in　order　that　the　/Constitutionnel/；　his
office；　the　National　Guard；　the　opera；　his　wife；　and　God　may　be
changed　into　coin。　In　fine；　hail　to　an　irreproachable　pluralist。　Up
every　day　at　five　o'clock；　he　traverses　like　a　bird　the　space　which
separates　his　dwelling　from　the　Rue　Montmartre。　Let　it　blow　or
thunder；　rain　or　snow；　he　is　at　the　/Constitutionnel/；　and　waits　there
for　the　load　of　newspapers　which　he　has　undertaken　to　distribute。　He
receives