It is hard nowadays to picture to one's self what a pleasure-trip of students and grisettes to the country was like, forty-five years ago. The suburbs of Paris are no longer the same; the physiognomy of what may be called circumparisian life has changed completely in the last half-century; where there was the cuckoo, there is the railway car; where there was a tender-boat, there is now the steamboat; people speak of Fecamp nowadays as they spoke of Saint-Cloud in those days. The Paris of 1862 is a city which has France for its outskirts.
The four couples conscientiously went through with all the country follies possible at that time. The vacation was beginning, and it was a warm, bright, summer day. On the preceding day, Favourite, the only one who knew how to write, had written the following to Tholomyes in the name of the four: "It is a good hour to emerge from happiness." That is why they rose at five o'clock in the morning. Then they went to Saint-Cloud by the coach, looked at the dry cascade and exclaimed, "This must be very beautiful when there is water!" They breakfasted at the Tete-Noir, where Castaing had not yet been; they treated themselves to a game of ring-throwing under the quincunx of trees of the grand fountain; they ascended Diogenes' *, they gambled for macaroons at the roulette establishment of the Pont de Sevres, picked bouquets at Pateaux, bought reed-pipes at Neuilly, ate apple tarts everywhere, and were perfectly happy.
The young girls rustled and chatted like warblers escaped from their cage. It was a perfect delirium. From time to time they bestowed little taps on the young men. Matutinal intoxication of life! adorable years! the wings of the dragonfly quiver. Oh, whoever you may be, do you not remember? Have you rambled through the brushwood, holding aside the branches, on account of the charming head which is coming on behind you? Have you slid, laughing, down a slope all wet with rain, with a beloved woman holding your hand, and crying, "Ah, my new boots! what a state they are in!"
Let us say at once that that merry obstacle, a shower, was lacking in the case of this good-humored party, although Favourite had said as they set out, with a magisterial and maternal tone, "The slugs are crawling in the paths,--a sign of rain, children."
All four were madly pretty. A good old classic poet, then famous, a good fellow who had an Eleonore, M. le Chevalier de Labouisse, as he strolled that day beneath the chestnut-trees of Saint-Cloud, saw them pass about ten o'clock in the morning, and exclaimed, "There is one too many of them," as he thought of the Graces. Favourite, Blachevelle's friend, the one aged three and twenty, the old one, ran on in front under the great green boughs, jumped the ditches, stalked distractedly over bushes, and presided over this merry-making with the spirit of a young female faun. Zephine and Dahlia, whom chance had made beautiful in such a way that they set each off when they were together, and completed each other, never left each other, more from an instinct of coquetry than from friendship, and clinging to each other, they assumed English poses; the first keepsakes had just made their appearance, melancholy was dawning for women, as later on, Byronism dawned for men; and the hair of the tender sex began to droop dolefully. Zephine and Dahlia had their hair dressed in rolls. Listolier and Fameuil, who were engaged in discussing their professors, explained to Fantine the difference that existed between M. Delvincourt and M. Blondeau.
Blachevelle seemed to have been created expressly to carry Favourite's single-bordered, imitation India shawl of Ternaux's manufacture, on his arm on Sundays.
Tholomyes followed, dominating the group. He was very gay, but one felt the force of government in him; there was dictation in his joviality; his principal ornament was a pair of trousers of elephant-leg pattern of nankeen, with straps of braided copper wire; he carried a stout rattan worth two hundred francs in his hand, and, as he treated himself to everything, a strange thing called a cigar in his mouth. Nothing was sacred to him; he smoked.
"That Tholomyes is astounding!" said the others, with veneration. "What trousers! What energy!"
As for Fantine, she was a joy to behold. Her splendid teeth had evidently received an office from God,--laughter. She preferred to carry her little hat of sewed straw, with its long white strings, in her hand rather than on her head. Her thick blond hair, which was inclined to wave, and which easily uncoiled, and which it was necessary to fasten up incessantly, seemed made for the flight of Galatea under the willows. Her rosy lips babbled enchantingly. The corners of her mouth voluptuously turned up, as in the antique masks of Erigone, had an air of encouraging the audacious; but her long, shadowy lashes drooped discreetly over the jollity of the lower part of the face as though to call a halt. There was something indescribably harmonious and striking about her entire dress. She wore a gown of mauve barege, little reddish brown buskins, whose ribbons traced an X on her fine, white, open-worked stockings, and that sort of muslin spencer, a Marseilles invention, whose name, canezou, a corruption of the words quinze aout, pronounced after the fashion of the Canebiere, signifies fine weather, heat, and midday. The three others, less timid, as we have already said, wore low-necked dresses without disguise, which in summer, beneath flower-adorned hats, are very graceful and enticing; but by the side of these audacious outfits, blond Fantine's canezou, with its transparencies, its indiscretion, and its reticence, concealing and displaying at one and the same time, seemed an alluring godsend of decency, and the famous Court of Love, presided over by the Vicomtesse de Cette, with the sea-green eyes, would, perhaps, have awarded the prize for coquetry to this canezou, in the contest for the prize of modesty. The most ingenious is, at times, the wisest. This does happen.
Brilliant of face, delicate of profile, with eyes of a deep blue, heavy lids, feet arched and small, wrists and ankles admirably formed, a white skin which, here and there allowed the azure branching of the veins to be seen, joy, a cheek that was young and fresh, the robust throat of the Juno of AEgina, a strong and supple nape of the neck, shoulders modelled as though by Coustou, with a voluptuous dimple in the middle, visible through the muslin; a gayety cooled by dreaminess; sculptural and exquisite--such was Fantine; and beneath these feminine adornments and these ribbons one could divine a statue, and in that statue a soul.
Fantine was beautiful, without being too conscious of it. Those rare dreamers, mysterious priests of the beautiful who silently confront everything with perfection, would have caught a glimpse in this little working-woman, through the transparency of her Parisian grace, of the ancient sacred euphony. This daughter of the shadows was thoroughbred. She was beautiful in the two ways-- style and rhythm. Style is the form of the ideal; rhythm is its movement.
We have said that Fantine was joy; she was also modesty.
To an observer who studied her attentively, that which breathed from her athwart all the intoxication of her age, the season, and her love affair, was an invincible expression of reserve and modesty. She remained a little astonished. This chaste astonishment is the shade of difference which separates Psyche from Venus. Fantine had the long, white, fine fingers of the vestal virgin who stirs the ashes of the sacred fire with a golden pin. Although she would have refused nothing to Tholomyes, as we shall have more than ample opportunity to see, her face in repose was supremely virginal; a sort of serious and almost austere dignity suddenly overwhelmed her at certain times, and there was nothing more singular and disturbing than to see gayety become so suddenly extinct there, and meditation succeed to cheerfulness without any transition state. This sudden and sometimes severely accentuated gravity resembled the disdain of a goddess. Her brow, her nose, her chin, presented that equilibrium of outline which is quite distinct from equilibrium of proportion, and from which harmony of countenance results; in the very characteristic interval which separates the base of the nose from the upper lip, she had that imperceptible and charming fold, a mysterious sign of chastity, which makes Barberousse fall in love with a Diana found in the treasures of Iconia.
Love is a fault; so be it. Fantine was innocence floating high over fault.
四十五年前的学生们和姑娘们到郊外游玩的情形，到今天①已是难以想象的了。巴黎的近郊已不是当年那模样，半个世纪以来，我们可以称为巴黎郊区生活的那种情况已完全改变了，从前有子规的地方，今天有了火车；从前有游艇的地方，今天有了汽船；从前的人谈圣克鲁②，正如今天的人谈费康③一样。一八六二年的巴黎已是一个以全法国作为近郊的城市了。
①本书作于一八六二年，四十五年前即指一八一七年。
②圣克鲁（St．Cloud），巴黎西郊的一个名胜区。
③费康（Fécamp），英法海峡边上的一个港口。
当时在乡间所能得到的狂欢，那四对情人都一一尽情享受了。他们开始度暑假，这是个和暖爽朗的夏日。宠儿是唯一知道写字的人，她在前一日用四个人的名义写了这样一句话给多罗米埃：“青早出门很块乐。”①因此他们早晨五点就起身了。随后，他们坐上公共马车，去圣克鲁，看了一回干瀑布，大家喊着说：“有水的时候，一定很好看！”在加斯丹还没有到过的那个黑头饭店里用了午餐，在大池边的五株林里玩了一局七连环②，登上了第欧根尼的灯笼③，到过塞夫勒桥，拿着杏仁饼去押了轮盘赌，在普托采了许多花，在讷伊买了些芦管笛，沿途吃着苹果饺，快乐无比。
①这句话的原文里有两个错字，以示宠儿识字不多。
②恰似中国的九连环，但只有七个环。
③第欧根尼的灯笼（*edeDiogène），当地的一游览场所。关于第欧根尼的灯笼，请参阅《悲惨世界》第三部732页及901页注。
这几个姑娘好象一群逃出笼子的秀眼鸟，喧噪谈笑，闹个不休。这是一种狂欢。她们不时和这些青年们撩撩打打。一生中少年时代的陶醉！可爱的岁月！蜻蜓的翅膀颤着！呀！无论你是谁，你总忘不了吧！你曾否穿越树丛，为跟在你后面走来的姣好的头分开枝叶呢？在雨后笑着从湿润的斜坡上滑下去，一个心爱的腻友牵着你的手，口里喊着：“呀！我崭新的鞋子！弄成什么样子了！”你曾否有过这样经历呢？
让我们立刻说出来那件有趣的意外，那阵骤雨，对那一群兴高采烈的伴侣，多少有些扫兴，虽然宠儿在出发时曾用长官和慈母式的口吻说过：“孩子们，蜗牛在小路上爬，这是下雨的兆头。”
这四位姑娘都是美到令人心花怒放的。有位名震一时的古典派老诗人，自己也据有个美人儿的男子，拉布依斯骑士先生，那天也正在圣克鲁的栗树林里徘徊，他看见她们在早晨十点左右打那儿经过，叫道“可惜多了一个”，他心里想到了三位美惠女神①。勃拉什维尔的情人宠儿，二十三岁的那位大姐，在苍翠的虬枝下带头奔跑，跳过泥沟，放恣地跨过荆棘，兴致勃发，俨如田野间的幼年女神。至于瑟芬和大丽，在这场合下她们便互相接近，互相衬托，以表示她们的得意，她们寸步不离，互相倚偎，仿效英国人的姿态；我们与其说那是出于友谊，倒不如说她俩是天生爱俏。最初的几本《妇女时装手册》当时才出版不久，妇女们渐尚工愁的神情，正如日后的男子们摹仿拜伦一样，女性的头发已开始披散了，瑟芬和大丽的头发是转筒式的。李士多里和法梅依正谈论他们的教师，向芳汀述说戴尔文古先生和勃隆多先生的不同点。
①指希腊神话中的三个美惠女神，优雅而美丽。
勃拉什维尔仿佛生来是专门替宠儿在星期日挽她那件德尔诺式的绒线披肩的。
多罗米埃跟在后面走，做那一伙的殿后。他也是有说有笑的，不过大家总觉得他是家长。他的嬉笑总含有专制君王的意味，他的主要服装是一条象腿式的南京布裤子，用一条铜丝带把裤脚扎在脚底，手里拿一条值两百法郎的粗藤手杖，他一向为所欲为，嘴里也就衔了一支叫做雪茄的那种怪东西。他真是目空一切，竟敢吸烟。
“这个多罗米埃真是特别，”大家都肃然起敬地那样说，“他竟穿那样的裤子！他真有魄力！”
至于芳汀，她就是欢乐。她那一嘴光彩夺目的牙齿明明从上帝那里奉了一道使命，笑的使命。一顶垂着白色长飘带的精致小草帽，她拿在手里的时候多，戴在头上的时候少。一头蓬松的黄发，偏偏喜欢飘舞，容易披散，不时需要整理，仿佛是为使垂杨下的仙女遮羞而生的。她的樱唇，喋喋不休，令人听了心醉。她嘴的两角含情脉脉地向上翘着，正如爱里柯尼的古代塑像，带着一种鼓励人放肆的神气；但是她那双迟疑的睫毛蔼然低垂在冶艳的面容上，又仿佛是在说着“行不得也哥哥”一样。她周身的装饰具有一种说不出的和谐和夺目的光彩。她穿了件玫瑰紫的毛织薄呢袍，一双闪烁的玲珑古式鞋，鞋带交叉结在两旁挑花的细质白袜上，还穿一件轻罗短衫，那种短衫，是马赛人新创的式样，名叫“加纳佐”①，这个字是“八月十五”的变音，在加纳皮尔大街上是那样读的，它的含义是“睛暖的南国”。其余那三个，我们已说过，比较放纵，都干脆露着胸部，那种装束，一到夏天，在花枝招展的帽子下显得格外妖娆恼人，但是在那种大胆的装饰之外，还有金发美人芳汀的那件薄如蝉翼的“八月十五”，若隐若现，亦盖亦彰，仿佛是一种独出心裁、惹人寻味的艳服。海绿眼睛的塞特子爵夫人所主持的那个有名的情宫，也许会把服装奖颁给这件追求娴静趣味的“八月十五”。最天真的人有时是最高明的。这是常有的事。光艳的脸儿，秀丽的侧影，眼睛深蓝，眼皮如凝脂，脚秀而翘，腕、踝都肥瘦适度，美妙天成，白皙的皮肤四处露着蔚蓝的脉络，两颊鲜润得和童女一样，颈脖肥硕如埃伊纳岛②的朱诺③，后颈窝显得既健壮又柔和，两肩仿佛是库斯图④塑造的，中间有一个动人的圆涡从轻罗下透出来，多愁工媚，冷若冰霜，状如石刻，色态如蝉娟，这样便是芳汀。在那朴素的衣服下面，我们可以想见一座塑像，塑像的心中有个灵魂。
①“加纳佐”原文是canezou，和法文“八月十五”（quinzeaout）发音相近。
②埃伊纳岛（Egine），希腊的一个岛。一八一一年掘出大批塑像。
③朱诺（Junon），众神之后。
④库斯图（Coustou），法国十八世纪的著名雕塑家。
芳汀很美，但她自己不大知道。偶然有些深思的人默默地用十全十美的标准来衡量一切事物，他们在这个小小女工的巴黎式的丰采中，也许会想见古代圣乐的和谐吧。这位出自幽谷的姑娘有根基，她在两个方面，风韵和容止方面都是美丽的。风韵是理想中的形象，容止是理想中的动静。
我们已经说过，芳汀就是欢乐，芳汀也就是贞操。一个旁观者，如果仔细研究她，就会知道，她在那种年龄、那种季节、那种爱慕的陶醉中表露出来的，只是一种谦虚谨慎、毫不苟且的神情。芳汀自己也有一些感到惊奇。这种纯洁的惊奇，也就是普赛克和维纳斯①之间的最细微的不同处。芳汀的手指，长而白，宛如拿着金针拨圣火灰的贞女。虽然她对多罗米埃的一切要求都不拒绝（关于这一点，我们以后还可以看得更清楚），但她的面貌，在静止时却仍是端庄如处子的，有时，她会突然表现出一种冷峻到近乎严肃的凛然不可犯的神情；我们看到她的欢乐忽然消失了，不需要经过一个中间阶段而立即继以沉思，世间再没有比这更奇特动人的情景了。这种突如其来的庄重，有时甚至显得严厉，正象女神的鄙夷神情。她的额、鼻和下颏具有线条上的平衡（绝不是比例上的平衡），因而构成了她面部的匀称，在从鼻底到上唇的那一段非常特别的地方，她有一种隐约难辨的美妙窝痕，那正是贞静的神秘标志，从前红胡子②之所以爱上在搜寻圣像时发现的一幅狄安娜③，也正是为了这样一种贞静之美。
好吧，爱是一种过失。芳汀却是飘浮在过失上的天贞。
①普赛克（Psyché），希腊神话中的一个美女，爱神的情人。维纳斯（Vénus），美神。
②红胡子（Barberousse），十六世纪有两个红胡子，兄弟俩，一个是海盗，一个是土耳其的舰队司令。
③狄安娜（Diane），希腊神话中的猎神。
