雨果 悲惨世界 英文版2-第12章

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　　These　beings　also　lived　with　shorn　heads；　with　downcast　eyes；　with　lowered　voices；　not　in　disgrace；　but　amid　the　scoffs　of　the　world；　not　with　their　backs　bruised　with　the　cudgel；　but　with　their　shoulders　lacerated　with　their　discipline。
　　Their　names；　also；　had　vanished　from　among　men；　they　no　longer　existed　except　under　austere　appellations。　They　never　ate　meat　and　they　never　drank　wine；　they　often　remained　until　evening　without　food；　they　were　attired；　not　in　a　red　blouse；　but　in　a　black　shroud；　of　woollen；　which　was　heavy　in　summer　and　thin　in　winter；　without　the　power　to　add　or　subtract　anything　from　it；　without　having　even；　according　to　the　season；　the　resource　of　the　linen　garment　or　the　woollen　cloak；　and　for　six　months　in　the　year　they　wore　serge　chemises　which　gave　them　fever。
　　They　dwelt；　not　in　rooms　warmed　only　during　rigorous　cold；　but　in　cells　where　no　fire　was　ever　lighted；　they　slept；　not　on　mattresses　two　inches　thick；　but　on　straw。
　　And　finally；　they　were　not　even　allowed　their　sleep；　every　night；　after　a　day　of　toil；　they　were　obliged；　in　the　weariness　of　their　first　slumber；　at　the　moment　when　they　were　falling　sound　asleep　and　beginning　to　get　warm；　to　rouse　themselves；　to　rise　and　to　go　and　pray　in　an　ice…cold　and　gloomy　chapel；　with　their　knees　on　the　stones。
　　On　certain　days　each　of　these　beings　in　turn　had　to　remain　for　twelve　successive　hours　in　a　kneeling　posture；　or　prostrate；　with　face　upon　the　pavement；　and　arms　outstretched　in　the　form　of　a　cross。
　　The　others　were　men；　these　were　women。
　　What　had　those　men　done？
　　They　had　stolen；　violated；　pillaged；　murdered；　assassinated。
　　They　were　bandits；　counterfeiters；　poisoners；　incendiaries；　murderers；　parricides。
　　What　had　these　women　done？
　　They　had　done　nothing　whatever。
　　On　the　one　hand；　highway　robbery；　fraud；　deceit；　violence；　sensuality；　homicide；　all　sorts　of　sacrilege；　every　variety　of　crime；　on　the　other；　one　thing　only；　innocence。
　　Perfect　innocence；　almost　caught　up　into　heaven　in　a　mysterious　assumption；　attached　to　the　earth　by　virtue；　already　possessing　something　of　heaven　through　holiness。
　　On　the　one　hand；　confidences　over　crimes；　which　are　exchanged　in　whispers；　on　the　other；　the　confession　of　faults　made　aloud。　And　what　crimes！
　　And　what　faults！
　　On　the　one　hand；　miasms；　on　the　other；　an　ineffable　perfume。　On　the　one　hand；　a　moral　pest；　guarded　from　sight；　penned　up　under　the　range　of　cannon；　and　literally　devouring　its　plague…stricken　victims；　on　the　other；　the　chaste　flame　of　all　souls　on　the　same　hearth。　There；　darkness；　here；　the　shadow；　but　a　shadow　filled　with　gleams　of　light；　and　of　gleams　full　of　radiance。
　　Two　strongholds　of　slavery；　but　in　the　first；　deliverance　possible；　a　legal　limit　always　in　sight；　and　then；　escape。
　　In　the　second；　perpetuity；　the　sole　hope；　at　the　distant　extremity　of　the　future；　that　faint　light　of　liberty　which　men　call　death。
　　In　the　first；　men　are　bound　only　with　chains；　in　the　other；　chained　by　faith。
　　What　flowed　from　the　first？
　　An　immense　curse；　the　gnashing　of　teeth；　hatred；　desperate　viciousness；　a　cry　of　rage　against　human　society；　a　sarcasm　against　heaven。
　　What　results　flowed　from　the　second？
　　Blessings　and　love。
　　And　in　these　two　places；　so　similar　yet　so　unlike；　these　two　species　of　beings　who　were　so　very　unlike；　were　undergoing　the　same　work；　expiation。
　　Jean　Valjean　understood　thoroughly　the　expiation　of　the　former；　that　personal　expiation；　the　expiation　for　one's　self。
　　But　he　did　not　understand　that　of　these　last；　that　of　creatures　without　reproach　and　without　stain；　and　he　trembled　as　he　asked　himself：　The　expiation　of　what？
　　What　expiation？
　　A　voice　within　his　conscience　replied：
　　〃The　most　divine　of　human　generosities；　the　expiation　for　others。〃
　　Here　all　personal　theory　is　withheld；　we　are　only　the　narrator；　we　place　ourselves　at　Jean　Valjean's　point　of　view；　and　we　translate　his　impressions。
　　Before　his　eyes　he　had　the　sublime　summit　of　abnegation；　the　highest　possible　pitch　of　virtue；　the　innocence　which　pardons　men　their　faults；　and　which　expiates　in　their　stead；　servitude　submitted　to；　torture　accepted；　punishment　claimed　by　souls　which　have　not　sinned；　for　the　sake　of　sparing　it　to　souls　which　have　fallen；　the　love　of　humanity　swallowed　up　in　the　love　of　God；　but　even　there　preserving　its　distinct　and　mediatorial　character；　sweet　and　feeble　beings　possessing　the　misery　of　those　who　are　punished　and　the　smile　of　those　who　are　repensed。
　　And　he　remembered　that　he　had　dared　to　murmur！
　　Often；　in　the　middle　of　the　night；　he　rose　to　listen　to　the　grateful　song　of　those　innocent　creatures　weighed　down　with　severities；　and　the　blood　ran　cold　in　his　veins　at　the　thought　that　those　who　were　justly　chastised　raised　their　voices　heavenward　only　in　blasphemy；　and　that　he；　wretch　that　he　was；　had　shaken　his　fist　at　God。
　　There　was　one　striking　thing　which　caused　him　to　meditate　deeply；　like　a　warning　whisper　from　Providence　itself：
　　the　scaling　of　that　wall；　the　passing　of　those　barriers；　the　adventure　accepted　even　at　the　risk　of　death；　the　painful　and　difficult　ascent；　all　those　efforts　even；　which　he　had　made　to　escape　from　that　other　place　of　expiation；　he　had　made　in　order　to　gain　entrance　into　this　one。
　　Was　this　a　symbol　of　his　destiny？
　　This　house　was　a　prison　likewise　and　bore　a　melancholy　resemblance　to　that　other　one　whence　he　had　fled；　and　yet　he　had　never　conceived　an　idea　of　anything　similar。
　　Again　he　beheld　gratings；　bolts；　iron　barsto　guard　whom？
　　Angels。
　　These　lofty　walls　which　he　had　seen　around　tigers；　he　now　beheld　once　more　around　lambs。
　　This　was　a　place　of　expiation；　and　not　of　punishment；　and　yet；　it　was　still　more　austere；　more　gloomy；　and　more　pitiless　than　the　other。
　　These　virgins　were　even　more　heavily　burdened　than　the　convicts。　A　cold；　harsh　wind；　that　wind　which　had　chilled　his　youth；　traversed　the　barred　and　padlocked　grating　of　the　vultures；　a　still　harsher　and　more　biting　breeze　blew　in　the　cage　of　these　doves。
　　Why？
　　When　he　thought　on　these　things；　all　that　was　within　him　was　lost　in　amazement　before　this　mystery　of　sublimity。
　　In　these　meditations；　his　pride　vanished。
　　He　scrutinized　his　own　heart　in　all　manner　of　ways；　he　felt　his　pettiness；　and　many　a　time　he　wept。
　　All　that　had　entered　into　his　life　for　the　last　six　months　had　led　him　back　towards　the　Bishop's　holy　injunctions；　Cosette　through　love；　the　convent　through　humility。
　　Sometimes　at　eventide；　in　the　twilight；　at　an　hour　when　the　garden　was　deserted；　he　could　be　seen　on　his　knees　in　the　middle　of　the　walk　which　skirted　the　chapel；　in　front　of　the　window　through　which　he　had　gazed　on　the　night　of　his　arrival；　and　turned　towards　the　spot　where；　as　he　knew；　the　sister　was　making　reparation；　prostrated　in　prayer。　Thus　he　prayed　as　he　knelt　before　the　sister。
　　It　seemed　as　though　he　dared　not　kneel　directly　before　God。
　　Everything　that　surrounded　him；　that　peaceful　garden；　those　fragrant　flowers；　those　children　who　uttered　joyous　cries；　those　grave　and　simple　women；　that　silent　cloister；　slowly　permeated　him；　and　little　by　little；　his　soul　became　pounded　of　silence　like　the　cloister；　of　perfume　like　the　flowers；　of　simplicity　like　the　women；　of　joy　like　the　children。
　　And　then　he　reflected　that　these　had　been　two　houses　of　God　which　had　received　him　in　succession　at　two　critical　moments　in　his　life：
　　the　first；　when　all　doors　were　closed　and　when　human　society　rejected　him；　the　second；　at　a　moment　when　human　society　had　again　set　out　in　pursuit　of　him；　and　when　the　galleys　were　again　yawning；　and　that；　had　it　not　been　for　the　first；　he　should　have　relapsed　into　crime；　and　had　it　not　been　for　the　second；　into　torment。
　　His　whole　heart　melted　in　gratitude；　and　he　loved　more　and　more。
　　Many　years　passed　in　this　manner；　Cosette　was　growing　up。
　　＇The　end　of　Volume　II。　〃Cosette〃＇　


BOOK　FIRST。PARIS　STUDIED　IN　ITS　ATOM
CHAPTER　I　
　　PARVULUS
　　Paris　has　a　child；　and　the　forest　has　a　bird；　the　bird　is　called　the　sparrow；　the　child　is　called　the　gamin。
　　Couple　these　two　ideas　which　contain；　the　one　all　the　furnace；　the　other　all　the　dawn；　strike　these　two　sparks　together；　Paris；　childhood；　there　leaps　out　from　them　a　little　being。
　　Homuncio；　Plautus　would　say。
　　This　little　being　is　joyous。
　　He　has　not　food　every　day；　and　he　goes　to　the　play　every　evening；　if　he　sees　good。
　　He　has　no　shirt　on　his　body；　no　shoes　on　his　feet；　no　roof　over　his　head；　he　is　like　the　flies　of　heaven；　who　have　none　of　these　things。　He　is　from　seven　to　thirteen　years　of　age；　he　lives　in　bands；　roams　the　streets；　lodges　in　the　open　air；　wears　an　old　pair　of　trousers　of　his　father's；　which　descend　below　his　heels；　an　old　hat　of　some　other　father；　which　descends　below　his　ears；　a　single　suspender　of　yellow　listing；　he　runs；　lies　in　wait；　rummages　about；　wastes　time；　blackens　pipes；　swears　like　a　convict；　haunts　the　wine…shop；　knows　thieves；　calls　gay　women　thou；　talks　slang；　sings　obscene　songs；　and　has　no　evil　in　his　heart。　This　is　because　he　has　in　his　heart　a　pearl；　innocence；　and　pearls　are　no