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Bonnard would put to flight the whole swarm of love's heroines。
Yet I； like others； have felt beauty； I have known that mysterious
charm which Nature has lent to animate form； and the clay which lives has
given to me that shudder of delight which makes the lover and the poet。
But I have never known either how to love or how to sing。 Now in my
memoryall encumbered as it is with the rubbish of old textsI can
discern again； like a miniature forgotten in some attic； a certain bright
young face； with violet eyes。。。。 Why； Bonnard； my friend； what an old fool
you are becoming！ Read that catalogue which a Florentine bookseller sent
you this very morning。 It is a catalogue of Manuscripts； and he promises
you a description of several famous ones； long preserved by the collectors
of Italy and Sicily。 There is something better suited to you； something
more in keeping with your present appearance。
I read； I cry out！ Hamilcar； who has assumed with the approach of age
an air of gravity that intimidates me； looks at me reproachfully； and seems
to ask me whether there is any rest in this world； since he cannot enjoy it
beside me； who am old also like himself。
In the sudden joy of my discovery； I need a confidant； and it is to the
sceptic Hamilcar that I address myself with all the effusion of a happy
man。
〃No； Hamilcar！ no；〃 I said to him； 〃there is no rest in this world； and
the quietude which you long for is incompatible with the duties of life。
And you say that we are old； indeed！ Listen to what I read in this
catalogue； and then tell me whether this is a time to be reposing：
〃'LA LEGENDE DOREE DE JACQUES DE VORAGINE；trduction
francaise du quatorzieme sicle； par le Clerc Alexandre。
〃'Superb MS。； ornamented with two miniatures； wonderfully executed；
and in a perfect state of preservation：one representing the Purification of
the Virgin； the other the Coronation of Proserpine。
〃'At the termination of the 〃Legende Doree〃 are the Legends of Saints
Ferreol； Ferrution； Germain； and Droctoveus （xxxviij pp。） and the
Miraculous Sepulture of Monsieur Saint…Germain d'Auxerre （xij pp。）。
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
〃'This rare manuscript； which formed part of the collection of Sir
Thomas Raleigh； is now in the private study of Signor Michel…Angelo
Polizzi； of Girgenti。'〃
〃You hear that； Hamilcar？ The manuscript of the Clerk Alexander is in
Sicily； at the house of Michel…Angelo Polizzi。 Heaven grant he may be a
friend of learned men！ I am going to write him！〃
Which I did forthwith。 In my letter I requested Signor Polizzi to allow
me to examine the manuscript of Clerk Alexander； stating on what
grounds I ventured to consider myself worthy of so great a favour。 I
offered at the same time to put at his disposal several unpublished texts in
my own possession； not devoid of interest。 I begged him to favour me with
a prompt reply； and below my signature I wrote down all my honorary
titles。
〃Monsieur！ Monsieur！ where are you running like that？〃 cried Therese；
quite alarmed； coming down the stairs in pursuit of me； four steps at a time；
with my hat in her hand。
〃I am going to post a letter； Therese。〃
〃Good God！ is that a way to run out in the street； bareheaded； like a
crazy man？〃
〃I am crazy； I know； Therese。 But who is not？ Give me my hat； quick！〃
〃And your gloves； Monsieur！ and your umbrella！〃
I had reached the bottom of the stairs； but still heard her protesting and
lamenting。
October 10； 1859。
I awaited Signor Polizzi's reply with ill…contained impatience。 I could
not even remain quiet； I would make sudden nervous gestures open
books and violently close them again。 One day I happened to upset a book
with my elbowa volume of Moreri。 Hamilcar； who was washing himself；
suddenly stopped； and looked angrily at me； with his paw over his ear。
Was this the tumultuous existence he must expect under my roof？ Had
there not been a tacit understanding between us that we should live a
peaceful life？ I had broken the covenant。
〃My poor dear comrade；〃 I made answer； 〃I am the victim of a violent
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
passion； which agitates and masters me。 The passions are enemies of peace
and quiet； I acknowledge； but without them there would be no arts or
industries in the world。 Everybody would sleep naked on a dung…heap； and
you would not be able； Hamilcar； to repose all day on a silken cushion； in
the City of Books。〃
I expatiated no further to Hamilcar on the theory of the passions；
however； because my housekeeper brought me a letter。 It bore the
postmark of Naples and read as follows：
〃Most Illustrious Sir；I do indeed possess that incomparable
manuscript of the 'Golden Legend' which could not escape your keen
observation。 All…important reasons； however； forbid me； imperiously；
tyrannically； to let the manuscript go out of my possession for a single day；
for even a single minute。 It will be a joy and pride for me to have you
examine it in my humble home in Girgenti； which will be embellished and
illuminated by your presence。 It is with the most anxious expectation of
your visit that I presume to sign myself； Seigneur Academician； 〃Your
humble and devoted servant 〃Michel…Angelo Polizzi； 〃Wine…merchant
and Archaeologist at Girgenti； Sicily。〃
Well； then！ I will go to Sicily：
〃Extremum hunc； Arethusa； mihi concede laborem。〃
October 25； 1859。
My resolve had been taken and my preparations made； it only
remained for me to notify my housekeeper。 I must acknowledge it was a
long time before I could make up my mind to tell her I was going away。 I
feared her remonstrances； her railleries； her objurgations； her tears。 〃She is
a good； kind girl；〃 I said to myself； 〃she is attacked to me； she will want to
prevent me from going； and the Lord knows that when she has her mind
set upon anything； gestures and cries cost her no effort。 In this instance she
will be sure to call the concierge； the scrubber； the mattress…maker； and the
seven sons of the fruit…seller； they will all kneel down in a circle around
me； they will begin to cry； and then they will look so ugly that I shall be
obliged to yield； so as not to have the pain of seeing them any more。〃
Such were the awful images； the sick dreams； which fear marshaled
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
before my imagination。 Yes； fear〃fecund Fear；〃 as the poet says gave
birth to these monstrosities in my brain。 ForI may as well make the
confession in these private pagesI am afraid of my housekeeper。 I am
aware that she knows I am weak； and this fact alone is sufficient to dispel
all my courage in any contest with her。 Contests are of frequent occurrence；
and I invariably succumb。
But for all that； I had to announce my departure to Therese。 She