①见《圣经·路加福音》第七章，第四十四至四十八节。 .32

But this is madness! It is as much as I can do to hold the pen which writes to you of these wild longings of my heart.

Whatever the outcome, I loved you very much, Armand, and I should have already been dead a long time if I had not had the memory of my love to sustain me, and a kind of vague hope of seeing you by my side once more.

4 February

Count de G is back. His mistress has been unfaithful to him. His spirits are very low, for he loved her very much. He came and told me the whole story. The poor man's affairs are in a bad way, though this did not prevent him from paying off my bailiff and dismissing the watchman.

I talked to him about you, and he has promised to talk to you about me. It's strange but, as I spoke, I completely forgot that I used to be his mistress once and, no less strangely, he tried to make me forget too! He is a decent sort.

Yesterday, the Duke sent round to enquire after me, and he came himself this morning. I cannot think what can keep the old man going. He sat with me for three hours, and did not say much above a score of words. Two great tears came to his eyes when he saw how pale I was. No doubt the memory of his daughter's death made him cry so.

He will have seen her die twice. His back is bent, his head is thrust forward and downward, his mouth is slack and his eyes are dull. The double weight of age and grief bears down upon his tired body. He did not say one word of reproach. It was as though he found some secret satisfaction in observing what ravages disease has produced in me. He seemed proud to be still standing, whereas I, who am still young, have been laid low by my sufferings.

The bad weather has returned. No one comes to see me now. Julie sits up with me as often as she can. I cannot give Prudence as much money as I used to, and she has begun saying that she has business to attend to as an excuse for staying away.

Now that I am near to death ?in spite of what the doctors say, for I have several, which only shows how the disease is gaining on me ?I am almost sorry I listened to your father. If I had known that I would have taken just one year out of your future, I would not have resisted my longing to spend that year with you, and then, at least, I should have died holding the hand of a friend. Yet it is clear that had we spent that year together, I should not have died so soon.

Let Thy will be done!

5 February

Oh, come to me, Armand, for I suffer torments! God, I am about to die! Yesterday, I was so low that I felt I wanted to be somewhere other than here for the evening, which promised to be as long as the one before, The Duke had been in the morning. I have a feeling that the sight of this old man, whom death has overlooked, brings my own death that much nearer.

Although I was burning with fever, I was dressed and taken to the Vaudeville. Julie had rouged my cheeks, for otherwise I should have looked like a corpse. I took my place in the box where I gave you our first rendezvous. I kept my eyes fixed the whole time on the seat in the stalls where you sat that day: yesterday, it was occupied by some boorish man who laughed loudly at all the stupid things the actors said. I was brought home half dead and spat blood all night. Today I cannot speak and can hardly move my arms. God! God! I am going to die! I was expecting it, but I cannot reconcile myself to the thought that my greatest sufferings are still to come, and if?

After this word, the few letters which Marguerite had tried to form were illegible, and the story had been taken up by Julie Duprat.

18 February

Monsieur Armand,

Since the day Marguerite insisted on going to the theatre, she has grown steadily worse. Her voice went completely, and then she lost the use of her limbs. What our poor friend has to bear is impossible to describe. I am not used to coping with such suffering, and I go in constant fear.

Oh, how I wish you were here with us! She is delirious for most of the time, but whether her mind is wandering or lucid, your name is the one which she says when she manages to say anything at all.

The doctor has told me that she does not have much longer to live. Since she has been so desperately ill, the old Duke has not been back.

He told the doctor that seeing her like this was too much for him.

Madame Duvernoy has not behaved very well. She thought she would still be able to go on getting money out of Marguerite, at whose expense she has been living on a more or less permanent basis, and she took on obligations which she cannot meet. Seeing that her neighbour is no further use to her, she does not even come to see her any more. Everyone has deserted her. Monsieur de G, harried by his debts, has been forced to return to London. Before going, he sent us money. He has done all he could, but the men have been back with repossession orders, and the creditors are only waiting for her to die before selling her up.

I wanted to use the last of my own money to stop her things being taken back, but the bailiff told me there was no point, for he had other orders to serve on her. Since she is going to die, it is better to let everything go than to try and save it for her family, given that she does not want to see any of them and, in any case, they never cared for her. You can have no idea of the gilded poverty in which the poor girl lies dying. Yesterday, we had no money at all. Plate, jewels, Indian shawls-everything has been pawned and the rest has been sold or seized. Marguerite is still aware of what is happening around her, and she suffers in body, mind and heart. Great tears run down her cheeks which are now so thin and pale that, if you saw her now, you would not recognize the face of the woman you once loved so much. She made me promise to write to you when she was no longer able to do so herself, and she is watching as I write this. She turns her eyes in my direction, but she cannot see me, for her sight is already dimmed by approaching death. And yet she smiles, and all her thoughts, all her soul, are for you, I am sure.

Each time the door opens, her eyes light up, for each time she believes that you will walk in. Then, when she sees that it is not you, her face reverts to its expression of suffering, breaks into a cold sweat and her cheeks turn crimson.

19 February, midnight

Oh, poor Monsieur Armand! What a sad day today has been! This morning, Marguerite could not get her breath. The doctor bled her, and her voice came back a little. The doctor advised her to see a priest. She said she would, and he himself went off to find one at the Church of Saint Roch.

Meanwhile, Marguerite called me close to her bedside, asked me to open her wardrobe, pointed out a lace cap and a long shift, also richly decked with lace, and then said in a weakened voice:

"I shall die after I have made my confession. When it's over, you are to dress me in these things. It is the whim of a dying woman."

Then, weeping, she kissed me and added:

"I can speak, but I can't get my breath when I do. I can't breathe! Give me air!"

I burst into tears and opened the window. A few moments later, the priest walked in.

I went to greet him.

When he realized in whose apartment he was, he seemed afraid of the reception he might get.

"Come in, father, there's nothing to fear," I said.

He stayed no time in the room where Marguerite lay so ill, and when he emerged, he said:

"She has lived a sinful life, but she will die a Christian death."

A few moments later, he returned with an altar-boy carrying a crucifix, and a sacristan who walked before them ringing a bell to announce that the Lord was coming to the house of the dying woman.

All three entered the bedroom which, in times gone by, had echoed with so many extravagant voices, and was now nothing less than a holy tabernacle.

I fell to my knees. I cannot say how long the effect of these proceedings on me will last, but I do not believe that any human thing will ever produce such an effect on me again until I myself reach the same pass.

The priest took the holy oils, anointed the dying woman's feet, hands and brow, read a short prayer, and Marguerite was ready for heaven, where she is surely bound if God has looked down on the tribulations of her life and the saintly character of her death.

Since that moment, she has not spoken or stirred. There were a score of times when I would have thought she was dead, had I not heard her laboured breathing.

20 February, 5 o'clock in the afternoon

It is all over.

Marguerite began her mortal agony last night, around two o'clock. No martyr ever suffered such torment, to judge by the screams she uttered. Two or three times, she sat bolt upright in her bed, as though she would snatch at the life which was winging its way back to God.

And two or three times she said your name. Then everything went quiet, and she slumped back on the bed exhausted. Silent tears welled up in her eyes, and she died.

I went close to her, called her name and, when she did not answer, I closed her eyes and kissed her on the forehead.

Poor, dear Marguerite! How I wished I had been a holy woman so that my kiss might commend your soul to God!

Then I dressed her as she had asked. I went to fetch a priest at Saint-Roch. I lit two candies for her, and stayed in the church for an hour to pray.

I gave money of hers to some poor people there.

I am not well versed in religion, but I believe that the good Lord will acknowledge that my tears were genuine, my prayers fervent and my charity sincere, and He will have pity on one who died young and beautiful, yet had only me to close her eyes and lay her in her grave.

22 February

The funeral was today. Many of Marguerite's women friends came to the church. A few wept honest tears. When the cortege set off for Montmartre, only two men followed the hearse: Count de G, who had returned specially from London, and the Duke, who walked with the aid of two of his footmen.

I am writing to tell you of these happenings from Marguerite's apartment, with tears in my eyes, by the light of the lamp which burns mournfully and with my dinner untouched, as you might imagine, though Nanine had it sent up for me, for I have not eaten in more than twenty-four hours.

Life moves on and will not allow me to keep these distressing pictures clear in my mind for long, for my life is no more mine than Marguerite's was hers. Which is why I am writing down all these things here in the place where they happened, for I fear that if any length of time were to elapse between what has occurred and your return, I should not be able to give you an account of it in all its sorry detail.'

在那决定命运的一夜以后所发生的事情，您跟我一样清楚，但是在我们分离以后我所受的痛苦您却是不知道，也是您想象不到的。 我知道您父亲已把您带走，但是我不太相信您能离开我而长期这样生活下去，那天我在香榭丽舍大街遇到您时我很激动，但是我并不感到意外。

然后就开始了那一连串的日子，在那些日子里您每天都要想出点新花样来侮辱我，这些侮辱可以说我都愉快地接受了，因为除了这种侮辱是您始终爱我的证据以外，我似乎觉得您越是折磨我，等到您知道真相的那一天，我在您眼里也就会显得越加崇高。

不要为我这种愉快的牺牲精神感到惊奇，阿尔芒，您以前对我的爱情已经把我的心灵向着崇高的激情打开了。

但是我不是一下子就这样坚强的。

在我为您作出牺牲和您回来之间有一段很长的时间，在这段时间里为了不让自己发疯，为了在我投入的那种生活中去自我麻醉，我需要求助于肉体上的疲劳。普律当丝已经对您讲了，是不是？我一直像在过节一样，我参加所有的舞会和宴饮。

在这样过度的纵情欢乐之后，我多么希望自己快些死去；而且，我相信这个愿望不久就会实现的，我的健康无疑是越来越糟了。在我请迪韦尔诺瓦太太来向您求饶的时候，我在肉体上和灵魂上都已极度衰竭。

阿尔芒，我不想向您提起，在我最后一次向您证明我对您的爱情时，您是怎样报答我的，您又是用什么样的凌辱来把这个女人赶出巴黎的。这个垂死的女人在听到您向她要求一夜恩爱的声音时感到无法拒绝，她像一个失去理智的人，曾一时以为这个夜晚可以把过去和现在重新连接起来。阿尔芒，您有权做您做过的事，别人在我那里过夜，出的价钱并不总是那么高的！

于是我抛弃了一切，奥林普在N先生身边代替了我，有人对我说，她已经告诉了他我离开巴黎的原因。G伯爵在伦敦，他这种人对于跟像我这样的姑娘的爱情关系只不过看作一种愉快的消遣。他和跟他相好过的女人总是保持着朋友关系，既不怀恨在心，也不争风吃醋，总之他是一位阔老爷，他只向我们打开他心灵的一角，但是他的钱包倒是向我们敞开的。我立即想到了他，就去找了他，他非常殷勤地接待了我，但是他在那边已经有了一个情妇，是一个上流社会的女人。他怕与我之间的事情张扬出去对他不利，便把我介绍给了他的朋友们。他们请我吃夜宵，吃过夜宵，其中有一个人就把我带走了。

您要我怎么办呢，我的朋友？

自杀吗？这可能给您应该是幸福的一生带来不必要的内疚；再说，一个快要死的人为什么还要自杀呢？

我成了没有灵魂的躯壳，没有思想的东西，我行尸走肉般地过了一段时期这样的生活，随后我又回到巴黎，打听您的消息，这我才知道您已经出远门去了。我得不到任何支持，我的生活又恢复到两年前我认识您时一样了，我想再把公爵找回来，但是我过分地伤了这个人的心，而老年人都是没有耐心的，大概因为他们觉得自己不是长生不老的。我的病况日益严重，我脸色苍白，我心情悲痛，我越来越瘦，购买爱情的男人在取货以前是要先看看货色的。巴黎有的是比我健康、比我丰满的女人，大家有点把我忘记了，这些就是今天以前发生的事情。

现在我已经完全病倒了。我已写信给公爵问他要钱，因为我已经没有钱了，而债主们都来了，他们一点同情心也没有，带着借据逼我还帐。公爵会给我回信吗？阿尔芒，您为什么不在巴黎啊！如果您在的话，您会来看我的，您来了会使我得到安慰。

十二月二十日

天气很可怕，又下着雪，我孤零零地一个人在家里，三天来我一直在发高烧，没有跟您写过一个字。没有什么新情况，我的朋友，每天我总是痴心妄想能收到您一封信，但是信没有来，而且肯定是永远不会来的了。只有男人才硬得起心肠不给人宽恕。公爵没有给我回信。

普律当丝又开始上当铺了。

我不停地咳血。啊！如果您看见我，一定会难受的。您在一个阳光明媚，气候温和的环境中是很幸福的，不像我这样，冰雪的严冬整个压在我胸口上。今天我起来了一会儿，隔着窗帘，我看到了窗外的巴黎生活，这种生活我已经跟它绝缘了。有几张熟脸快步穿过大街，他们欢乐愉快，无忧无虑，没有一个人抬起头来望望我的窗口。但是也有几个年轻人来过，留下了姓名。过去曾有过一次，在我生病的时候，您每天早晨都来打听我的病况，而那时候您还不认识我，您只是在我第一次认识您的时候从我那里得到过一次无礼的接待。我现在又病了，我们曾在一起过了六个月，凡是一个女人的心里能够容纳得下和能够给人的爱情，我都拿出来给了您。您在远方，您在咒骂我，我得不到您一句安慰的话。但这是命运促成您这样遗弃我的，这我是深信不疑的，因为如果您在巴黎，您是不会离开我的床头和我的房间的。

十二月二十五日

我的医生不准我天天写信。的确，回首往事只能使我的热度升高。但是昨天我收到了一封信，这封信使我感到舒服了些，这封信所表达的感情要比它给我带来的物质援助更让我高兴。因此我今天可以给您写信了。这封信是您父亲寄来的。下面就是这封信的内容。

夫人：

我刚刚知道您病了，如果我在巴黎的话，我会亲自来探问您的病情，如果我儿子在身旁的话，我会叫他去打听您的消息的；但是我不能离开C城，阿尔芒又远在六七百法里之外。请允许我跟您写封简单的信吧。夫人，对您的病我感到非常难过，请相信我，我诚挚地祝愿您早日痊愈。

我一位好朋友H先生要到您家里去，请接待他。我请他代我办一件事，我正焦急地等待着这件事的结果。

致以最亲切的问候。

这就是我接到的那封信，您父亲有一颗高贵的心，您要好好爱他，我的朋友，因为世界上值得爱的人不多，这张签着他姓名的信纸比我们最著名的医生开出的所有的药方要有效得多。

今天早晨，H先生来了，他对迪瓦尔先生托付给他的微妙的任务似乎显得很为难，他是专门来代您父亲带一千埃居给我的。起先我是不想要的，但是H先生对我说，如果我不收下的话会使迪瓦尔先生不高兴，迪瓦尔先生授权他先把这笔钱给我，随后再满足我其他的需要。我接受了这个帮助，这个来自您父亲的帮助不能算是施舍。如果您回来的时候我已经死了，请把我刚才写的关于他的那一段话给他看，并告诉他，他好心给她写慰问信的那个可怜的姑娘在写这几行字的时候流下了感激的眼泪，并为他向天主祈祷。

一月四日

我刚捱过了一些非常痛苦的日子。我从来没想到肉体会使人这样痛苦。呵！我过去的生活啊！今天我加倍偿还了。

每天夜里都有人照料我，我喘不过气来。我可怜的一生剩下来的日子就这样在说胡话和咳嗽中度过。

餐室里放满了朋友们送来的糖果和各式各样的礼物。在这些人中间，肯定有些人希望我以后能做他们的情妇。如果他们看到病魔已经把我折磨成了什么样子，我想他们一定会吓得逃跑的。

普律当丝用我收到的新年礼物来送礼。

天气冷得都结冰了，医生对我说如果天气一直晴朗下去的话，过几天我可以出去走走。

一月八日

昨天我坐着我的车子出门，天气很好。香榭丽舍大街人头攒动，真是一个明媚的早春。四周一片欢乐的气象。我从来也没有想到过，我还能在阳光下找到昨天那些使人感到喜悦、温暖和安慰的东西。

所有的熟人我几乎全碰到了，他们一直是那么笑逐颜开，忙于寻乐。身在福中不知福的人有那么多啊！奥林普坐在一辆N先生送给她的漂亮的马车里经过，她想用眼光来侮辱我。她不知道我现在根本没有什么虚荣心了。一个好心的青年，我的老相识，问我是不是愿意去跟他一起吃夜宵，他说他有一个朋友非常希望认识我。

我苦笑了笑，把我烧得滚烫的手伸给他。

我从未见过谁的脸色有他那么惊惶的。

我四点钟回到家里，吃晚饭时胃口还相当好。

这次出门对我是有好处的。

一旦我病好起来的话，那该有多好啊！

有一些人在前一天还灵魂空虚，在阴沉沉的病房里祈求早离人世，但是在看到了别人的幸福生活以后居然也产生了一种想继续活下去的希望。

一月十日

希望病愈只不过是一个梦想。我又躺倒了，身上涂满了灼得我发痛的药膏。过去千金难买的身躯今天恐怕是一钱不值了！

我们一定是前世作孽过多，再不就是来生将享尽荣华，所以天主才会使我们这一生历尽赎罪和磨炼的煎熬。

一月二十日

我一直很难受。

N伯爵昨天送钱给我，我没有接受。这个人的东西我都不要，就是为了他才害得您不在我身边。

哦！我们在布吉瓦尔的日子有多美啊！此刻您在哪里啊？

如果我能活着走出这个房间，我一定要去朝拜那座我们一起住过的房子，但看来我只能被抬着出去了。

谁知道我明天还能不能写信给您？

一月二十五日

已经有十一个夜晚我没法安睡了，我闷得透不过气来，每时每刻我都以为我要死了。医生嘱咐不能再让我动笔。朱利·迪普拉陪着我，她倒允许我跟您写上几行。难道在我死以前您就不会回来了吗？我们之间的关系就此永远完了吗？我似乎觉得只要您来了，我的病就会好的。可是病好了又有什么用呢？

一月二十八日

今天早晨我被一阵很大的声音惊醒了。睡在我房里的朱利马上跑到餐室里去。我听到朱利在跟一些男人争吵，但没有用处，她哭着回来了。

他们是来查封的。我对朱利说让他们去干他们称之为司法的事吧。执达吏戴着帽子走进了我的房间。他打开所有的抽屉，把他看见的东西都登记下来，他仿佛没有看见床上有一个垂死的女人，幸而法律仁慈，这张床总算设给查封掉。

他走的时候总算对我说了一句话，我可以在九天之内提出反对意见，但是他留下了一个看守！我的天啊，我将变成什么啦！这场风波使我的病加重了。普律当丝想去向您父亲的朋友要些钱，我反对她这样做。

一月三十日

今天早晨我收到了您的来信，这是我渴望已久的，您是不是能及时收到我的回信？您还能见到我吗？这是一个幸福的日子，它使我忘记了六个星期以来我所经受的一切，尽管我写回信的时候心情悒郁，我还是觉得好受一些了。

总之，人总不会永远不幸的吧。

我还想到也许我不会死，也许您能回来，也许我将再一次看到春天，也许您还是爱我的，也许我们将重新开始我们去年的生活！