The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard | Page 9

Characters like
Hercules have such weaknesses occasionally. Was the one I had fallen
in love with at all beautiful? No. I can see her now. She had a splotch
of vermilion on either cheek, short soft arms, horrible wooden hands,
and long sprawling legs. Her flowered petticoat was fastened at the
waist with two pins. Even now I cans see the balck heads of those two
pins. It was a decidedly vulgar doll--smelt of the faubourg. I remember
perfectly well that, child as I was then, before I had put on my first pair
of trousers, I was quite conscious in my own way that this doll lacked
grace and style--that she was gross, that she was course. But I loved her
in spite of that; I loved her just for that; I loved her only; I wanted her.
My soldiers and my drums had become as nothing in my eyes, I ceased
to stick sprigs of heliotrope and veronica into the mouth of my
rocking-horse. That doll was all the world to me. I invented ruses
worthy of a savage to oblige Virginie, my nurse, to take me by the little
shop in the Rue de Seine. I would press my nose against the window
until my nurse had to take my arm and drag me away. "Monsieur
Sylvestre, it is late, and your mamma will scold you." Monsieur
Sylvestre in those days made very little of either scoldings or
whippings. But his nurse lifted him up like a feather, and Monsieur
Sylvestre yielded to force. In after-years, with age, he degenerated, and
sometimes yielded to fear. But at that time he used to fear nothing.
I was unhappy. An unreasoning but irresistible shame prevented me
from telling my mother about the object of my love. Thence all my
sufferings. For many days that doll, incessantly present in fancy,
danced before my eyes, stared at me fixedly, opened her arms to me,
assuming in my imagination a sort of life which made her appear at
once mysterious and weird, and thereby all the more charming and
desirable.
Finally, one day--a day I shall never forget--my nurse took me to see
my uncle, Captain Victor, who had invited me to lunch. I admired my
uncle a great deal, as much because he had fired the last French
cartridge at Waterloo, as because he used to prepare with his own hands,
at my mother's table, certain chapons-a-l'ail [Crust on which garlic has
been rubbed], which he afterwards put in the chicory salad. I thought

that was very fine! My Uncle Victor also inspired me with much
respect by his frogged coat, and still more by his way of turning the
whole house upside down from the moment he came into it. Even now
I cannot tell just how he managed it, but I can affirm that whenever my
Uncle Victor found himself in any assembly of twenty persons, it was
impossible to see or to hear anybody but him. My excellent father, I
have reason to believe, never shared my admiration for Uncle Victor,
who used to sicken him with his pipe, give him great thumps in the
back by way of friendliness, and accuse him of lacking energy. My
mother, though always showing a sister's indulgence to the Captain,
sometimes advised him to fold the brandy- bottle a little less frequently.
But I had no part either in these repugnances or these reproaches, and
Uncle Victor inspired me with the purest enthusiasm. It was therefore
with a feeling of pride that I entered into the little lodging he occupied
in the Rue Guenegaud. The entire lunch, served on a small table close
to the fireplace, consisted of cold meats and confectionery.
The Captain stuffed me with cakes and undiluted wine. He told me of
numberless injustices to which he had been a victim. He complained
particularly of the Bourbons; and as he neglected to tell me who the
Bourbons were, I got the idea--I can't tell how--that the Bourbons were
horse-dealers established at Waterloo. The Captain, who never
interrupted his talk except for the purpose of pouring out wine,
furthermore made charges against a number of dirty scoundrels,
blackguards, and good-for-nothings whom I did not know anything
about, but whom I hated from the bottom of my heart. At dessert I
thought I heard the Captain say my father was a man who could be led
anywhere by the nose; but I am not quite sure that I understood him. I
had a buzzing in my ears; and it seemed to me that the table was
dancing.
My uncle put on his frogged coat, took his bell shaped hat, and we
descended to the street, which seemed to me singularly changed. It
looked to me as if I had not been