a woman of thirty-第35部分

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　traces　of　suffering　or　of　thought　in　her；　and　which　is　the　more　certain　token　of　death　when　life　is　in　blossomphysical　suffering；　or　the　malady　of　too　early　thought　preying　upon　a　soul　as　yet　in　bud？　Perhaps　a　mother　knows。　For　my　own　part；　I　know　of　nothing　more　dreadful　to　see　than　an　old　man's　thoughts　on　a　child's　forehead；　even　blasphemy　from　girlish　lips　is　less　monstrous。

The　almost　stupid　stolidity　of　this　child　who　had　begun　to　think　already；　her　rare　gestures；　everything　about　her；　interested　me。　I　scrutinized　her　curiously。　Then　the　common　whim　of　the　observer　drew　me　to　compare　her　with　her　brother；　and　to　note　their　likeness　and　unlikeness。

Her　brown　hair　and　dark　eyes　and　look　of　precocious　power　made　a　rich　contrast　with　the　little　one's　fair　curled　head　and　sea…green　eyes　and　winning　helplessness。　She；　perhaps；　was　seven　or　eight　years　of　age；　the　boy　was　full　four　years　younger。　Both　children　were　dressed　alike；　but　here　again；　looking　closely；　I　noticed　a　difference。　It　was　very　slight；　a　little　thing　enough；　but　in　the　light　of　after　events　I　saw　that　it　meant　a　whole　romance　in　the　past；　a　whole　tragedy　to　come。　The　little　brown…haired　maid　wore　a　linen　collar　with　a　plain　hem；　her　brother's　was　edged　with　dainty　embroidery；　that　was　all；　but　therein　lay　the　confession　of　a　heart's　secret；　a　tacit　preference　which　a　child　can　read　in　the　mother's　inmost　soul　as　clearly　as　if　the　spirit　of　God　revealed　it。　The　fair…haired　child；　careless　and　glad；　looked　almost　like　a　girl；　his　skin　was　so　fair　and　fresh；　his　movements　so　graceful；　his　look　so　sweet；　while　his　older　sister；　in　spite　of　her　energy；　in　spite　of　the　beauty　of　her　features　and　her　dazzling　complexion；　looked　like　a　sickly　little　boy。　In　her　bright　eyes　there　was　none　of　the　humid　softness　which　lends　such　charm　to　children's　faces；　they　seemed；　like　courtiers'　eyes；　to　be　dried　by　some　inner　fire；　and　in　her　pallor　there　was　a　certain　swarthy　olive　tint；　the　sign　of　vigorous　character。　Twice　her　little　brother　came　to　her；　holding　out　a　tiny　hunting…horn　with　a　touching　charm；　a　winning　look；　and　wistful　expression；　which　would　have　sent　Charlet　into　ecstasies；　but　she　only　scowled　in　answer　to　his　〃Here；　Helene；　will　you　take　it？〃　so　persuasively　spoken。　The　little　girl；　so　sombre　and　vehement　beneath　her　apparent　indifference；　shuddered；　and　even　flushed　red　when　her　brother　came　near　her；　but　the　little　one　seemed　not　to　notice　his　sister's　dark　mood；　and　his　unconsciousness；　blended　with　earnestness；　marked　a　final　difference　in　character　between　the　child　and　the　little　girl；　whose　brow　was　overclouded　already　by　the　gloom　of　a　man's　knowledge　and　cares。

〃Mamma；　Helene　will　not　play；〃　cried　the　little　one；　seizing　an　opportunity　to　complain　while　the　two　stood　silent　on　the　Ponte　des　Gobelins。

〃Let　her　alone；　Charles；　you　know　very　well　that　she　is　always　cross。〃

Tears　sprang　to　Helene's　eyes　at　the　words　so　thoughtlessly　uttered　by　her　mother　as　she　turned　abruptly　to　the　young　man　by　her　side。　The　child　devoured　the　speech　in　silence；　but　she　gave　her　brother　one　of　those　sagacious　looks　that　seemed　inexplicable　to　me；　glancing　with　a　sinister　expression　from　the　bank　where　he　stood　to　the　Bievre；　then　at　the　bridge　and　the　view；　and　then　at　me。

I　as　afraid　lest　my　presence　should　disturb　the　happy　couple；　I　slipped　away　and　took　refuge　behind　a　thicket　of　elder　trees；　which　completely　screened　me　from　all　eyes。　Sitting　quietly　on　the　summit　of　the　bank；　I　watched　the　ever…changing　landscape　and　the　fierce…looking　little　girl；　for　with　my　head　almost　on　a　level　with　the　boulevard　I　could　still　see　her　through　the　leaves。　Helene　seemed　uneasy　over　my　disappearance；　her　dark　eyes　looked　for　me　down　the　alley　and　behind　the　trees　with　indefinable　curiosity。　What　was　I　to　her？　Then　Charles'　baby　laughter　rang　out　like　a　bird's　song　in　the　silence。　The　tall；　young　man；　with　the　same　fair　hair；　was　dancing　him　in　his　arms；　showering　kisses　upon　him；　and　the　meaningless　baby　words　of　that　〃little　language〃　which　rises　to　our　lips　when　we　play　with　children。　The　mother　looked　on　smiling；　now　and　then；　doubtless；　putting　in　some　low　word　that　came　up　from　the　heart；　for　her　companion　would　stop　short　in　his　full　happiness；　and　the　blue　eyes　that　turned　towards　her　were　full　of　glowing　light　and　love　and　worship。　Their　voices；　blending　with　the　child's　voice；　reached　me　with　a　vague　sense　of　a　caress。　The　three　figures；　charming　in　themselves；　composed　a　lovely　scene　in　a　glorious　landscape；　filling　it　with　a　pervasive　unimaginable　grace。　A　delicately　fair　woman；　radiant　with　smiles；　a　child　of　love；　a　young　man　with　the　irresistible　charm　of　youth；　a　cloudless　sky；　nothing　was　wanting　in　nature　to　complete　a　perfect　harmony　for　the　delight　of　the　soul。　I　found　myself　smiling　as　if　their　happiness　had　been　my　own。

The　clocks　struck　nine。　The　young　man　gave　a　tender　embrace　to　his　companion；　and　went　towards　the　tilbury　which　an　old　servant　drove　slowly　to　meet　him。　The　lady　had　grown　grave　and　almost　sad。　The　child's　prattle　sounded　unchecked　through　the　last　farewell　kisses。　Then　the　tilbury　rolled　away；　and　the　lady　stood　motionless；　listening　to　the　sound　of　the　wheels；　watching　the　little　cloud　of　dust　raised　by　its　passage　along　the　road。　Charles　ran　down　the　green　pathway　back　to　the　bridge　to　join　his　sister。　I　heard　his　silver　voice　calling　to　her。

〃Why　did　you　not　come　to　say　good…bye　to　my　good　friend？〃　cried　he。

Helene　looked　up。　Never　surely　did　such　hatred　gleam　from　a　child's　eyes　as　from　hers　at　that　moment　when　she　turned　them　on　the　brother　who　stood　beside　her　on　the　bank　side。　She　gave　him　an　angry　push。　Charles　lost　his　footing　on　the　steep　slope；　stumbled　over　the　roots　of　a　tree；　and　fell　headlong　forwards；　dashing　his　forehead　on　the　sharp…edged　stones　of　the　embankment；　and；　covered　with　blood；　disappeared　over　the　edge　into　the　muddy　river。　The　turbid　water　closed　over　a　fair；　bright　head　with　a　shower　of　splashes；　one　sharp　shriek　after　another　rang　in　my　ears；　then　the　sounds　were　stifled　by　the　thick　stream；　and　the　poor　child　sank　with　a　dull　sound　as　if　a　stone　had　been　thrown　into　the　water。　The　accident　had　happened　with　more　than　lightning　swiftness。　I　sprang　down　the　footpath；　and　Helene；　stupefied　with　horror；　shrieked　again　and　again：

〃Mamma！　mamma！〃

The　mother　was　there　at　my　side。　She　had　flown　to　the　spot　like　a　bird。　But　neither　a　mother's　eyes　nor　mine　could　find　the　exact　place　where　the　little　one　had　gone　under。　There　was　a　wide　space　of　black　hurrying　water；　and　below　in　the　bed　of　the　Bievre　ten　feet　of　mud。　There　was　not　the　smallest　possibility　of　saving　the　child。　No　one　was　stirring　at　that　hour　on　a　Sunday　morning；　and　there　are　neither　barges　nor　anglers　on　the　Bievre。　There　was　not　a　creature　in　sight；　not　a　pole　to　plumb　the　filthy　stream。　What　need　was　there　for　me　to　explain　how　the　ugly…looking　accident　had　happenedaccident　or　misfortune；　whichever　it　might　be？　Had　Helene　avenged　her　father？　Her　jealousy　surely　was　the　sword　of　God。　And　yet　when　I　looked　at　the　mother　I　shivered。　What　fearful　ordeal　awaited　her　when　she　should　return　to　her　husband；　the　judge　bef