a woman of thirty-第5部分

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〃Father；〃　she　began　in　gentle　tremulous　tones；　〃I　promise　to　say　no　more　about　Victor　until　you　have　overcome　your　prejudices　against　him。〃

The　old　man　looked　at　her　in　amazement。　Two　tears　which　filled　his　eyes　overflowed　down　his　withered　cheeks。　He　could　not　take　Julie　in　his　arms　in　that　crowded　place；　but　he　pressed　her　hand　tenderly。　A　few　minutes　later　when　they　had　taken　their　places　in　the　cabriolet；　all　the　anxious　thought　which　had　gathered　about　his　brow　had　completely　disappeared。　Julie's　pensive　attitude　gave　him　far　less　concern　than　the　innocent　joy　which　had　betrayed　her　secret　during　the　review。



Nearly　a　year　had　passed　since　the　Emperor's　last　review。　In　early　March　1814　a　caleche　was　rolling　along　the　highroad　from　Amboise　to　Tours。　As　the　carriage　came　out　from　beneath　the　green…roofed　aisle　of　walnut　trees　by　the　post…house　of　la　Frilliere；　the　horses　dashed　forward　with　such　speed　that　in　a　moment　they　gained　the　bridge　built　across　the　Cise　at　the　point　of　its　confluence　with　the　Loire。　There；　however；　they　come　to　a　sudden　stand。　One　of　the　traces　had　given　way　in　consequence　of　the　furious　pace　at　which　the　post…boy；　obedient　to　his　orders；　had　urged　on　four　horses；　the　most　vigorous　of　their　breed。　Chance；　therefore；　gave　the　two　recently　awakened　occupants　of　the　carriage　an　opportunity　of　seeing　one　of　the　most　lovely　landscapes　along　the　enchanting　banks　of　the　Loire；　and　that　at　their　full　leisure。

At　a　glance　the　travelers　could　see　to　the　right　the　whole　winding　course　of　the　Cise　meandering　like　a　silver　snake　among　the　meadows；　where　the　grass　had　taken　the　deep；　bright　green　of　early　spring。　To　the　left　lay　the　Loire　in　all　its　glory。　A　chill　morning　breeze；　ruffling　the　surface　of　the　stately　river；　had　fretted　the　broad　sheets　of　water　far　and　wide　into　a　network　of　ripples；　which　caught　the　gleams　of　the　sun；　so　that　the　green　islets　here　and　there　in　its　course　shone　like　gems　set　in　a　gold　necklace。　On　the　opposite　bank　the　fair　rich　meadows　of　Touraine　stretched　away　as　far　as　the　eye　could　see；　the　low　hills　of　the　Cher；　the　only　limits　to　the　view；　lay　on　the　far　horizon；　a　luminous　line　against　the　clear　blue　sky。　Tours　itself；　framed　by　the　trees　on　the　islands　in　a　setting　of　spring　leaves；　seemed　to　rise　like　Venice　out　of　the　waters；　and　her　old　cathedral　towers　soaring　in　air　were　blended　with　the　pale　fantastic　cloud　shapes　in　the　sky。

Over　the　side　of　the　bridge；　where　the　carriage　had　come　to　a　stand；　the　traveler　looks　along　a　line　of　cliffs　stretching　as　far　as　Tours。　Nature　in　some　freakish　mood　must　have　raised　these　barriers　of　rock；　undermined　incessantly　by　the　rippling　Loire　at　their　feet；　for　a　perpetual　wonder　for　spectators。　The　village　of　Vouvray　nestles；　as　it　were；　among　the　clefts　and　crannies　of　the　crags；　which　begin　to　describe　a　bend　at　the　junction　of　the　Loire　and　Cise。　A　whole　population　of　vine…dressers　lives；　in　fact；　in　appalling　insecurity　in　holes　in　their　jagged　sides　for　the　whole　way　between　Vouvray　and　Tours。　In　some　places　there　are　three　tiers　of　dwellings　hollowed　out；　one　above　the　other；　in　the　rock；　each　row　communicating　with　the　next　by　dizzy　staircases　cut　likewise　in　the　face　of　the　cliff。　A　little　girl　in　a　short　red　petticoat　runs　out　into　her　garden　on　the　roof　of　another　dwelling；　you　can　watch　a　wreath　of　hearth…smoke　curling　up　among　the　shoots　and　trails　of　the　vines。　Men　are　at　work　in　their　almost　perpendicular　patches　of　ground；　an　old　woman　sits　tranquilly　spinning　under　a　blossoming　almond　tree　on　a　crumbling　mass　of　rock；　and　smiles　down　on　the　dismay　of　the　travelers　far　below　her　feet。　The　cracks　in　the　ground　trouble　her　as　little　as　the　precarious　state　of　the　old　wall；　a　pendant　mass　of　loose　stones；　only　kept　in　position　by　the　crooked　stems　of　its　ivy　mantle。　The　sound　of　coopers'　mallets　rings　through　the　skyey　caves；　for　here；　where　Nature　stints　human　industry　of　soil；　the　soil　is　everywhere　tilled；　and　everywhere　fertile。

No　view　along　the　whole　course　of　the　Loire　can　compare　with　the　rich　landscape　of　Touraine；　here　outspread　beneath　the　traveler's　eyes。　The　triple　picture；　thus　barely　sketched　in　outline；　is　one　of　those　scenes　which　the　imagination　engraves　for　ever　upon　the　memory；　let　a　poet　fall　under　its　charm；　and　he　shall　be　haunted　by　visions　which　shall　reproduce　its　romantic　loveliness　out　of　the　vague　substance　of　dreams。

As　the　carriage　stopped　on　the　bridge　over　the　Cise；　white　sails　came　out　here　and　there　from　among　the　islands　in　the　Loire　to　add　new　grace　to　the　perfect　view。　The　subtle　scent　of　the　willows　by　the　water's　edge　was　mingled　with　the　damp　odor　of　the　breeze　from　the　river。　The　monotonous　chant　of　a　goat…herd　added　a　plaintive　note　to　the　sound　of　birds'　songs　in　a　chorus　which　never　ends；　the　cries　of　the　boatmen　brought　tidings　of　distant　busy　life。　Here　was　Touraine　in　all　its　glory；　and　the　very　height　of　the　splendor　of　spring。　Here　was　the　one　peaceful　district　in　France　in　those　troublous　days；　for　it　was　so　unlikely　that　a　foreign　army　should　trouble　its　quiet　that　Touraine　might　be　said　to　defy　invasion。

As　soon　as　the　caleche　stopped；　a　head　covered　with　a　foraging　cap　was　put　out　of　the　window；　and　soon　afterwards　an　impatient　military　man　flung　open　the　carriage　door　and　sprang　down　into　the　road　to　pick　a　quarrel　with　the　postilion；　but　the　skill　with　which　the　Tourangeau　was　repairing　the　trace　restored　Colonel　d'Aiglemont's　equanimity。　He　went　back　to　the　carriage；　stretched　himself　to　relieve　his　benumbed　muscles；　yawned；　looked　about　him；　and　finally　laid　a　hand　on　the　arm　of　a　young　woman　warmly　wrapped　up　in　a　furred　pelisse。

〃Come；　Julie；〃　he　said　hoarsely；　〃just　wake　up　and　take　a　look　at　this　country。　It　is　magnificent。〃

Julie　put　her　head　out　of　the　window。　She　wore　a　traveling　cap　of　sable　fur。　Nothing　could　be　seen　of　her　but　her　face；　for　the　whole　of　her　person　was　completely　concealed　by　the　folds　of　her　fur　pelisse。　The　young　girl　who　tripped　to　the　review　at　the　Tuileries　with　light　footsteps　and　joy　and　gladness　in　her　heart　was　scarcely　recognizable　in　Julie　d'Aiglemont。　Her　face；　delicate　as　ever；　had　lost　the　rose…　color　which　once　gave　it　so　rich　a　glow。　A　few　straggling　locks　of　black　hair；　straightened　out　by　the　damp　night　air；　enhanced　its　dead　whiteness；　and　all　its　life　and　sparkle　seemed　to　be　torpid。　Yet　her　eyes　glittered　with　preternatural　brightness　in　spite　of　the　violet　shadows　under　the　lashes　upon　her　wan　cheeks。

She　looked　out　with　indifferent　eyes　over　the　fields　towards　the　Cher；　at　the　islands　in　the　river；　at　the　line　of　the　crags　of　Vouvray　stretching　along　the　Loire　towards　Tours；　then　she　sank　back　as　soon　as　possible　into　her　seat　in　the　caleche。　She　did　not　care　to　give　a　glance　to　the　enchanting　valley　of　the　Cise。

〃Yes；　it　is　wonderful；〃　she　said；　and　out　in　the　open　air　her　voice　sounded　weak　and　faint　to　the　last　degree。　Evidently　she　had　had　her　way　with　her　father；　to　her　misfortune。

〃Would　you　not　like　to　live　here；　Julie？〃

〃Yes；　here　or　anywhere；〃　she　answered　listlessly。

〃Do　you　feel　ill？〃　asked　Colonel　d'Aiglemont。

〃No；　not　at　all；〃　she　answered　with　momentary　ene