men, women and ghosts(男人、女人和鬼魂)-第23章
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Clink…a…tink！ Tap！ Another sharp spear Of brightness； And a ringing of
quick metal lightness On hard stones。 Workmen are chipping off the
names of Napoleon's victories From the triumphal arch of the Place du
Carrousel。
Do they need so much force to quell the crowd？ An old Grenadier of
the line groans aloud； And each hammer tap points the sob of a woman。
Russia； Prussia； Austria； and the faded…white…lily Bourbon king Think it
well To guard against tumult； A mob is an undependable thing。 Ding！
Ding！ Vienna is scattered all over the Place du Carrousel In glittering； bent；
and twisted letters。 Your betters have clattered over Vienna before； Officer
of his Imperial Majesty our Father…in…Law！ Tink！ Tink！ A workman's
chisel can strew you to the winds； Munich。 Do they think To pleasure Paris；
used to the fall of cities； By giving her a fall of letters！
It is a month too late。 One month； and our lily…white Bourbon king Has
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done a colossal thing； He has curdled love； And soured the desires of a
people。 Still the letters fall； The workmen creep up and down their ladders
like lizards on a wall。 Tap！ Tap！ Tink！ Clink！ Clink！ 〃Oh； merciful
God； they will not touch Austerlitz！ Strike me blind； my God； my eyes can
never look on that。 I would give the other leg to save it； it took one。 Curse
them！ Curse them！ Aim at his hat。 Give me the stone。 Why didn't you
give it to me？ I would not have missed。 Curse him！ Curse all of them！
They have got the ‘A'！〃 Ding！ Ding！ 〃I saw the Terror； but I never saw
so horrible a thing as this。 ‘Vive l'Empereur！ Vive l'Empereur！'〃 〃Don't
strike him； Fritz。 The mob will rise if you do。 Just run him out to the ‘quai'；
That will get him out of the way。 They are almost through。〃 Clink！ Tink！
Ding！ Clear as the sudden ring Of a bell 〃Z〃 strikes the pavement。
Farewell； Austerlitz； Tilsit； Presbourg； Farewell； greatness departed。
Farewell； Imperial honours； knocked broadcast by the beating hammers
of ignorant workmen。 Straight； in the Spring moonlight； Rises the
deflowered arch。 In the silence； shining bright； She stands naked and
unsubdued。 Her marble coldness will endure the march Of decades。 Rend
her bronzes； hammers； Cast down her inscriptions。 She is unconquerable；
austere； Cold as the moon that swims above her When the nights are clear。
IV
Croissy； Ile…de…France； June； 1815
〃Whoa！ Victorine。 Devil take the mare！ I've never seen so vicious a
beast。 She kicked Jules the last time she was here； He's been lame ever
since； poor chap。〃 Rap！ Tap！ Tap…a…tap…a…tap！ Tap！ Tap！ 〃I'd rather be
lame than dead at Waterloo； M'sieu Charles。〃 〃Sacre Bleu！ Don't
mention Waterloo； and the damned grinning British。 We didn't run in the
old days。 There wasn't any running at Jena。 Those were decent days； And
decent men； who stood up and fought。 We never got beaten； because we
wouldn't be。 See！〃 〃You would have taught them； wouldn't you； Sergeant
Boignet？ But to…day it's everyone for himself； And the Emperor isn't what
he was。〃 〃How the Devil do you know that？ If he was beaten； the cause Is
the green geese in his army； led by traitors。 Oh； I say no names； Monsieur
Charles； You needn't hammer so loud。 If there are any spies lurking behind
the bellows； I beg they come out。 Dirty fellows！〃 The old Sergeant
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seizes a red…hot poker And advances； brandishing it； into the shadows。 The
rows of horses flick Placid tails。 Victorine gives a savage kick As the nails
Go in。 Tap！ Tap！ Jules draws a horseshoe from the fire And beats it
from red to peacock…blue and black； Purpling darker at each whack。 Ding！
Dang！ Dong！ Ding…a…ding…dong！ It is a long time since any one spoke。
Then the blacksmith brushes his hand over his eyes； 〃Well；〃 he sighs；
〃He's broke。〃 The Sergeant charges out from behind the bellows。 〃It's the
green geese； I tell you； Their hearts are all whites and yellows； There's no
red in them。 Red！ That's what we want。 Fouche should be fed To the
guillotine； and all Paris dance the carmagnole。 That would breed jolly fine
lick…bloods To lead his armies to victory。〃 〃Ancient history； Sergeant。 He's
done。〃 〃Say that again； Monsieur Charles； and I'll stun You where you
stand for a dung…eating Royalist。〃 The Sergeant gives the poker a savage
twist； He is as purple as the cooling horseshoes。 The air from the bellows
creaks through the flues。 Tap！ Tap！ The blacksmith shoes Victorine；
And through the doorway a fine sheen Of leaves flutters； with the sun
between。 By a spurt of fire from the forge You can see the Sergeant； with
swollen gorge； Puffing； and gurgling； and choking； The bellows keep on
croaking。 They wheeze； And sneeze； Creak！ Bang！ Squeeze！ And the
hammer strokes fall like buzzing bees Or pattering rain； Or faster than
these； Like the hum of a waterfall struck by a breeze。 Clank！ from the
bellows…chain pulled up and down。 Clank！ And sunshine twinkles on
Victorine's flank； Starting it to blue； Dropping it to black。 Clack！ Clack！
Tap…a…tap！ Tap！ Lord！ What galloping！ Some mishap Is making that
man ride so furiously。 〃Francois； you！ Victorine won't be through For
another quarter of an hour。〃 〃As you hope to die； Work faster； man； the
order has come。〃 〃What order？ Speak out。 Are you dumb？〃 〃A chaise；
without arms on the panels； at the gate In the far side…wall； and just to wait。
We must be there in half an hour with swift cattle。 You're a stupid fool if
you don't hear that rattle。 Those are German guns。 Can't you guess the
rest？ Nantes； Rochefort； possibly Brest。〃 Tap！ Tap！ as though the
hammers were mad。 Dang！ Ding！ Creak！ The farrier's lad Jerks the
bellows till he cracks their bones； And the stifled air hiccoughs and groans。
The Sergeant is lying on the floor Stone dead； and his hat with the
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tricolore Cockade has rolled off into the cinders。 Victorine snorts and
lays back her ears。 What glistens on the anvil？ Sweat or tears？
V
St。 Helena； May； 1821
Tap！ Tap！ Tap！ Through the white tropic night。 Tap！ Tap！ Beat
the hammers； Unwearied； indefatigable。 They are hanging dull black cloth
about the dead。 Lustreless black cloth Which chokes the radiance of the
moonlight And puts out the little moving shadows of leaves。 Tap！ Tap！
The knocking makes the candles quaver； And the long black hangings
waver Tap！ Tap！ Tap！ Tap！ Tap！ In the ears which do not heed。 Tap！
Tap！ Above the eyelids which do not flicker。 Tap！ Tap
