men, women and ghosts(男人、女人和鬼魂)-第19章
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of the line； stately with canvas； the tall clouds pass along the sky； over the
glittering roof； over the trees； over the looped and curving river。 A breeze
quivers through the linden…trees。 Roses bloom at Malmaison。 Roses！
Roses！ But the road is dusty。 Already the Citoyenne Beauharnais
wearies of her walk。 Her skin is chalked and powdered with dust； she
smells dust； and behind the wall are roses！ Roses with smooth open
petals； poised above rippling leaves 。 。 。 Roses 。 。 。 They have told her so。
The Citoyenne Beauharnais shrugs her shoulders and makes a little face。
She must mend her pace if she would be back in time for dinner。 Roses
indeed！ The guillotine more likely。
The tiered clouds float over Malmaison； and the slate roof sparkles in
the sun。
II
Gallop！ Gallop！ The General brooks no delay。 Make way； good
people； and scatter out of his path； you； and your hens； and your dogs； and
your children。 The General is returned from Egypt； and is come in a
‘caleche' and four to visit his new property。 Throw open the gates； you；
Porter of Malmaison。 Pull off your cap； my man； this is your master； the
husband of Madame。 Faster！ Faster！ A jerk and a jingle and they are
arrived； he and she。 Madame has red eyes。 Fie！ It is for joy at her
husband's return。 Learn your place； Porter。 A gentleman here for two
months？ Fie！ Fie； then！ Since when have you taken to gossiping。
Madame may have a brother； I suppose。 That all green； and red； and
glitter； with flesh as dark as ebony that is a slave； a bloodthirsty；
stabbing； slashing heathen； come from the hot countries to cure your
tongue of idle whispering。
A fine afternoon it is； with tall bright clouds sailing over the trees。
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〃Bonaparte； mon ami； the trees are golden like my star； the star I
pinned to your destiny when I married you。 The gypsy； you remember
her prophecy！ My dear friend； not here； the servants are watching； send
them away； and that flashing splendour； Roustan。 Superb Imperial；
but 。 。 。 My dear； your arm is trembling； I faint to feel it touching me！ No；
no； Bonaparte； not that spare me that did we not bury that last night！
You hurt me； my friend； you are so hot and strong。 Not long； Dear； no；
thank God； not long。〃
The looped river runs saffron； for the sun is setting。 It is getting dark。
Dark。 Darker。 In the moonlight； the slate roof shines palely milkily
white。
The roses have faded at Malmaison； nipped by the frost。 What need
for roses？ Smooth； open petals her arms。 Fragrant； outcurved petals
her breasts。 He rises like a sun above her； stooping to touch the petals；
press them wider。 Eagles。 Bees。 What are they to open roses！ A little
shivering breeze runs through the linden…trees； and the tiered clouds blow
across the sky like ships of the line； stately with canvas。
III
The gates stand wide at Malmaison； stand wide all day。 The gravel of
the avenue glints under the continual rolling of wheels。 An officer gallops
up with his sabre clicking； a mameluke gallops down with his charger
kicking。 ‘Valets de pied' run about in ones； and twos； and groups； like
swirled blown leaves。 Tramp！ Tramp！ The guard is changing； and the
grenadiers off duty lounge out of sight； ranging along the roads toward
Paris。
The slate roof sparkles in the sun； but it sparkles milkily； vaguely； the
great glass…houses put out its shining。 Glass； stone； and onyx now for the
sun's mirror。 Much has come to pass at Malmaison。 New rocks and
fountains； blocks of carven marble； fluted pillars uprearing antique
temples； vases and urns in unexpected places； bridges of stone； bridges of
wood； arbours and statues； and a flood of flowers everywhere； new
flowers； rare flowers； parterre after parterre of flowers。 Indeed； the roses
bloom at Malmaison。 It is youth； youth untrammeled and advancing；
trundling a country ahead of it as though it were a hoop。 Laughter； and
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spur janglings in tessellated vestibules。 Tripping of clocked and
embroidered stockings in little low…heeled shoes over smooth grass…plots。
India muslins spangled with silver patterns slide through trees mingle
separate white day fireflies flashing moon…brilliance in the shade of
foliage。
〃The kangaroos！ I vow； Captain； I must see the kangaroos。〃
〃As you please； dear Lady； but I recommend the shady linden alley
and feeding the cockatoos。〃
〃They say that Madame Bonaparte's breed of sheep is the best in all
France。〃
〃And； oh； have you seen the enchanting little cedar she planted when
the First Consul sent home the news of the victory of Marengo？〃
Picking； choosing； the chattering company flits to and fro。 Over the
trees the great clouds go； tiered； stately； like ships of the line bright with
canvas。
Prisoners'…base； and its swooping； veering； racing； giggling； bumping。
The First Consul runs plump into M。 de Beauharnais and falls。 But he
picks himself up smartly； and starts after M。 Isabey。 Too late； M。 Le
Premier Consul； Mademoiselle Hortense is out after you。 Quickly； my
dear Sir！ Stir your short legs； she is swift and eager； and as graceful as
her mother。 She is there； that other； playing too； but lightly； warily；
bearing herself with care； rather floating out upon the air than running；
never far from goal。 She is there； borne up above her guests as
something indefinably fair； a rose above periwinkles。 A blown rose；
smooth as satin； reflexed； one loosened petal hanging back and down。 A
rose that undulates languorously as the breeze takes it； resting upon its
leaves in a faintness of perfume。
There are rumours about the First Consul。 Malmaison is full of
women； and Paris is only two leagues distant。 Madame Bonaparte stands
on the wooden bridge at sunset； and watches a black swan pushing the
pink and silver water in front of him as he swims； crinkling its smoothness
into pleats of changing colour with his breast。 Madame Bonaparte presses
against the parapet of the bridge； and the crushed roses at her belt melt；
petal by petal； into the pink water。
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IV
A vile day； Porter。 But keep your wits about you。 The Empress wi
