英文
LXV
While the Abbe Duplanty was persuading Pons to engage Mme. Cantinet as his nurse, Fraisier had sent for her. He had plied the beadle's wife with sophistical reasoning and subtlety. It was difficult to resist his corrupting influence. And as for Mme. Cantinet—a lean, sallow woman, with large teeth and thin lips—her intelligence, as so often happens with women of the people, had been blunted by a hard life, till she had come to look upon the slenderest daily wage as prosperity. She soon consented to take Mme. Sauvage with her as general servant. Mme. Sauvage had had her instructions already. She had undertaken to weave a web of iron wire about the two musicians, and to watch them as a spider watches a fly caught in the toils; and her reward was to be a tobacconist's license. Fraisier had found a convenient opportunity of getting rid of his so-called foster-mother, while he posted her as a detective and policeman to supervise Mme. Cantinet. As there was a servant's bedroom and a little kitchen included in the apartment, La Sauvage could sleep on a truckle-bed and cook for the German. Dr. Poulain came with the two women just as Pons drew his last breath. Schmucke was sitting beside his friend, all unconscious of the crisis, holding the hand that slowly grew colder in his grasp. He signed to Mme. Cantinet to be silent; but Mme. Sauvage's soldierly figure surprised him so much that he started in spite of himself, a kind of homage to which the virago was quite accustomed.
M. Duplanty answers for this lady, whispered Mme. Cantinet by way of introduction. "She once was cook to a bishop; she is honesty itself; she will do the cooking."
Oh! you may talk out loud, wheezed the stalwart dame. "The poor gentleman is dead.... He has just gone."
A shrill cry broke from Schmucke. He felt Pons' cold hand stiffening in his, and sat staring into his friend's eyes; the look in them would have driven him mad, if Mme. Sauvage, doubtless accustomed to scenes of this sort, had not come to the bedside with a mirror which she held over the lips of the dead. When she saw that there was no mist upon the surface, she briskly snatched Schmucke's hand away.
Just take away your hand, sir; you may not be able to do it in a little while. You do not know how the bones harden. A corpse grows cold very quickly. If you do not lay out a body while it is warm, you have to break the joints later on....
And so it was this terrible woman who closed the poor dead musician's eyes. With a business-like dexterity acquired in ten years of experience, she stripped and straightened the body, laid the arms by the sides, and covered the face with the bedclothes, exactly as a shopman wraps a parcel.
A sheet will be wanted to lay him out.—Where is there a sheet? she demanded, turning on the terror-stricken Schmucke.
He had watched the religious ritual with its deep reverence for the creature made for such high destinies in heaven; and now he saw his dead friend treated simply as a thing in this packing process—saw with the sharp pain that dissolves the very elements of thought.
Do as you vill—— he answered mechanically.
The innocent creature for the first time in his life had seen a man die, and that man was Pons, his only friend, the one human being who understood him and loved him.
I will go and ask Mme. Cibot where the sheets are kept, said La Sauvage.
A truckle-bed will be wanted for the person to sleep upon, Mme. Cantinet came to tell Schmucke.
Schmucke nodded and broke out into weeping. Mme. Cantinet left the unhappy man in peace; but an hour later she came back to say:
Have you any money, sir, to pay for the things?
The look that Schmucke gave Mme. Cantinet would have disarmed the fiercest hate; it was the white, blank, peaked face of death that he turned upon her, as an explanation that met everything.
Dake it all and leaf me to mein prayers and tears, he said, and knelt.
Mme. Sauvage went to Fraisier with the news of Pons' death. Fraisier took a cab and went to the Presidente. To-morrow she must give him the power of attorney to enable him to act for the heirs.
Another hour went by, and Mme. Cantinet came again to Schmucke. "I have been to Mme. Cibot, sir, who knows all about things here," she said. "I asked her to tell me where everything is kept. But she almost jawed me to death with her abuse.... Sir, do listen to me...."
Schmucke looked up at the woman, and she went on, innocent of any barbarous intention, for women of her class are accustomed to take the worst of moral suffering passively, as a matter of course.
We must have linen for the shroud, sir, we must have money to buy a truckle-bed for the person to sleep upon, and some things for the kitchen—plates, and dishes, and glasses, for a priest will be coming to pass the night here, and the person says that there is absolutely nothing in the kitchen.
And what is more, sir, I must have coal and firing if I am to get the dinner ready, echoed La Sauvage, "and not a thing can I find. Not that there is anything so very surprising in that, as La Cibot used to do everything for you—"
Schmucke lay at the feet of the dead; he heard nothing, knew nothing, saw nothing. Mme. Cantinet pointed to him.
My dear woman, you would not believe me, she said. "Whatever you say, he does not answer."
Very well, child, said La Sauvage; "now I will show you what to do in a case of this kind."
She looked round the room as a thief looks in search of possible hiding-places for money; then she went straight to Pons' chest, opened the first drawer, saw the bag in which Schmucke had put the rest of the money after the sale of the pictures, and held it up before him. He nodded mechanically.
Here is money, child, said La Sauvage, turning to Mme. Cantinet. "I will count it first and take enough to buy everything we want—wine, provisions, wax-candles, all sorts of things, in fact, for there is nothing in the house.... Just look in the drawers for a sheet to bury him in. I certainly was told that the poor gentleman was simple, but I don't know what he is; he is worse. He is like a new-born child; we shall have to feed him with a funnel."
The women went about their work, and Schmucke looked on precisely as an idiot might have done. Broken down with sorrow, wholly absorbed, in a half-cataleptic state, he could not take his eyes from the face that seemed to fascinate him, Pons' face refined by the absolute repose of Death. Schmucke hoped to die; everything was alike indifferent. If the room had been on fire he would not have stirred.
There are twelve hundred and fifty francs here, La Sauvage told him.
Schmucke shrugged his shoulders. But when La Sauvage came near to measure the body by laying the sheet over it, before cutting out the shroud, a horrible struggle ensued between her and the poor German. Schmucke was furious. He behaved like a dog that watches by his dead master's body, and shows his teeth at all who try to touch it. La Sauvage grew impatient. She grasped him, set him in the armchair, and held him down with herculean strength.
Go on, child; sew him in his shroud, she said, turning to Mme. Cantinet.
As soon as this operation was completed, La Sauvage set Schmucke back in his place at the foot of the bed. "Do you understand?" said she. "The poor dead man lying there must be done up, there is no help for it."
Schmucke began to cry. The women left him and took possession of the kitchen, whither they brought all the necessaries in a very short time.
中文
六十五、他这样地死了
杜泼朗蒂神父在这儿劝邦斯雇刚蒂南太太做看护，弗莱齐埃却把她叫到自己家里，拿出他那套败坏人心的话和恶讼师的手段打动她，那是谁也不容易抵抗的。刚蒂南太太大牙齿，白嘴唇，脸黄肌瘦，像多数下等阶级的妇女，给苦难磨得愣头磕脑的，看到一点儿小小的好处就认为是天大的运气，听了弗莱齐埃的话就同意把梭伐太太带到邦斯家里打杂。弗莱齐埃对自己的老妈子早已吩咐停当。她答应用铜墙铁壁把两个音乐家包围起来，像蜘蛛看着黏在网上的苍蝇一样看着他们。梭伐太太的酬报是到手一个烟草零售店的牌照；这样，弗莱齐埃一方面把这个所谓的老奶妈打发走了，一方面有她在刚蒂南太太身边就等于有了个密探，有了个警察。两位朋友家里有一间下人的卧室和一间小小的厨房，梭伐女人在那儿可以搭张帆布床，替许模克做饭。波冷医生把两个妇女送上门的时候，邦斯刚好断气，而许模克还没有发觉。他拿着朋友正在逐渐冷去的手，向刚蒂南太太示意教她别开口。可是一见梭伐太太那副大兵式的模样，他不由得吓了一跳，那种反应在她这个十足男性的女人是看惯了的。
“这位太太是杜泼朗蒂神父负责介绍的，”刚蒂南太太说，“她在一个主教那儿当过厨娘，人非常靠得住，到这儿来替你做饭。”
“哦！你说话不用低声啦！”那雄赳赳的患着气喘病的梭伐女人说，“可怜的先生已经死啦！……他才断气。”
许模克尖厉地叫了一声，觉得邦斯冰冷的手在那里发硬了，他定着眼睛瞪着邦斯，死人眼睛的模样使他差不多要发疯。梭伐太太大概对这种情形见得多了，她拿着面镜子走到床前，往死人嘴边一放，看到镜子上没有一点呼吸的水汽，便赶紧把许模克的手跟死人的手拉开。
“快放手呀，先生，你要拿不出了；你不知道骨头会硬起来吗？死人一下子就冷的。要不趁他还有点暖气的时候安顿好，等会就得扯断他的骨头了……”
想不到音乐家死后倒是由这个可怕的女人替他阖上眼睛。她拿出十年看护的老经验，把邦斯的衣服脱了，身子放平了，把他两手贴在身旁，拉起被单盖住他鼻子：她的动作完全跟铺子里的伙计打包一样。
“现在要条被单把他裹起来，被单在哪儿呢？……”她问许模克，许模克觉得她的行动可怕极了。
他先看到宗教对一个有资格永生天国的人那么尊敬，此刻看到朋友给人当作货物一般包扎，心中的哀痛简直要使他失掉理性。
“随你怎么办吧！……”许模克迷迷糊糊地回答。
这老实人还是生平第一遭看见一个人死，而这个人是邦斯，是他唯一的朋友，唯一了解他而爱他的人！……
“让我去问西卜太太。”梭伐女人说。
“还得一张帆布床给这位太太睡觉。”刚蒂南太太对许模克说。
许模克摇摇头，眼泪簌落落地哭了。刚蒂南太太只得丢下这个可怜虫。可是过了一小时她又来了：
“先生，可有钱给我们去买东西？”
许模克对刚蒂南太太望了一眼，那眼风教你即使对他有一肚子的怨恨也发作不起来；他指着死人那张惨白、干瘪、尖瘦的脸，仿佛这就答复了所有的问题。
“把所有东西都拿去吧，我要哭，我要祈祷！”他说着跪了下来。
梭伐太太向弗莱齐埃去报告邦斯的死讯，弗莱齐埃立刻雇辆车上庭长太太家，要他们明天给他委托书，指定他做继承人的代表。
一小时以后，刚蒂南太太又来对许模克说：“我去找过西卜太太了，她替你们管家，应当知道东西放在哪儿；可是西卜刚死，她对我好不客气……先生，你听我说呀！……”
许模克望着这女人，她可一点不觉得自己的残酷，因为平民对于精神上最剧烈的痛苦一向是逆来顺受的。
“先生，我们要被单做尸衣，要钱买帆布床给这位太太睡，买厨房用的东西，买盘子、碟子、杯子；等会有个教士来守夜，厨房里可一样东西都没有。”
“先生，”梭伐女人接口说，“我要柴，要煤，预备夜饭，家里又什么都看不见！这也难怪，原来都是西卜女人包办的……”
许模克蜷伏在床脚下，完全没有了知觉。刚蒂南太太指着他说：
“哎，好太太，你还不信呢，他就是这样地不理不答。”
“好吧，我来告诉你碰到这种情形该怎么办。”
梭伐女人把屋子四下里扫了一眼，好比做贼的想找出人家放钱的地方。她奔向邦斯的柜子，打开抽屉，看到一只钱袋，里边有许模克卖了画用剩下来的钱；她拿到许模克面前，他糊里糊涂地点了点头。
梭伐女人就对刚蒂南太太说：“喂，嫂子，钱有了！让我数一数，拿点儿去买应用的东西，买酒，买菜，买蜡烛，样样都要，他们什么都没有呢……你在柜子里找条被单，把尸体缝起来。人家告诉我这好好先生非常老实，想不到他老实得不像话。简直是个初生的娃娃，连吃东西还要人喂呢……”
两个女人忙着做事，许模克瞧着她们的眼风完全像个疯子。他悲痛之极，入于麻痹状态，跟木头人一样眼睛老盯着邦斯的脸，仿佛给它迷住了；而长眠之后的邦斯，遗容变得非常恬静。许模克只希望死，对什么都满不在乎。便是屋子着了火，他也不会动的了。
“总共是一千二百五十六法郎……”梭伐女人对他说。
许模克耸了耸肩膀。等到梭伐女人想把邦斯缝入尸衣，来量他的身长预备裁剪被单的时候，她和可怜的德国人扭作了一团。许模克好比一条狗守着主人的尸体，谁都不让走近。梭伐女人不耐烦了，抓着德国人，像大力士般把他按在沙发里。
“快点儿，嫂子，把死人缝起来。”她吩咐刚蒂南太太。
事情一完，梭伐女人把许模克拖到床前他的老位置上，说道：“明白没有？死人总得打发掉啊！”
许模克哭了，两个女人丢下他，支配厨房去了。不消一刻，她们把生活的必需品一齐给捎了回来。
