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and I invariably succumb。
But for all that； I had to announce my departure to Therese。 She came
into the library with an armful of wood to make a little fire 〃une flambe；〃
she said。 For the mornings are chilly。 I watched her out of the corner of my
eye while she crouched down at the hearth； with her head in the opening
of the fireplace。 I do not know how I then found the courage to speak； but
I did so without much hesitation。 I got up； and； walking up and down the
room； observed in a careless tone； with that swaggering manner
characteristic of cowards；
〃By the way； Therese； I am going to Sicily。〃
Having thus spoken； I awaited the consequence with great anxiety。
Therese did not reply。 Her head and her vast cap remained buried in the
fireplace； and nothing in her person； which I closely watched； betrayed the
least emotion。 She poked some paper under the wood； and blew up the fire。
That was all！
Finally I saw her face again；it was calmso calm that it made me
vexed。 〃Surely；〃 I thought to myself； 〃this old maid has no heart。 She lets
me go away without saying so much as AH！ Can the absence of her old
master really affect her so little？〃
〃Well； then go； Monsieur；〃 she answered at last； 〃only be back here by
six o'clock！ There is a dish for dinner to…day which will not wait for
anybody。〃
Naples； November 10； 1859。
〃Co tra calle vive； magna； e lave a faccia。〃
I understand； my friendfor three centimes I can eat； drink； and wash
my face； all by means of one of those slices of watermelon you display
there on a little table。 But Occidental prejudices would prevent me from
enjoying that simple pleasure freely and frankly。 And how could I suck a
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watermelon？ I have enough to do mereley to keep on my feet in this crowd。
What a luminous； noisy night in the Strada di Porto！ Mountains of fruit
tower up in the shops； illuminated by multicoloured lanterns。 Upon
charcoal furnaces lighted in the open air water boils and steams； and
ragouts are singing in frying…pans。 The smell of fried fish and hot meats
tickles my nose and makes me sneeze。 At this moment I find that my
handkerchief has left the pocket of my frock…coat。 I am pushed； lifted up；
and turned about in every direction by the gayest； the most talkative； the
most animated and the most adroit populace possible to imagine； and
suddenly a young woman of the people； while I am admiring her
magnificent hair； with a single shock of her powerful elastic shoulder；
pushes me staggering three paces back at least； without injury； into the
arms of a maccaroni…eater； who receives me with a smile。
I am in Naples。 How I ever managed to arrive here； with a few
mutilated and shapeless remains of baggage； I cannot tell； because I am no
longer myself。 I have been travelling in a condition of perpetual fright； and
I think that I must have looked awhile ago in this bright city like an owl
bewildered by sunshine。 To…night it is much worse！ Wishing to obtain a
glimpse of popular manners； I went to the Strada di Porto； where I now am。
All about me animated throngs of people crowd and press before the
eating…places； and I float like a waif among these living surges； which；
even while they submerge you； still caress。 For this Neopolitan people has；
in its very vivacity； something indescribably gentle and polite。 I am not
roughly jostled； I am merely swayed about； and I think that by dint of thus
rocking me to and fro； these good folks want to lull me asleep on my feet。
I admire； as I tread the lava pavements of the strada； those porters and
fishermen who move by me chatting； singing； smoking； gesticulating；
quarrelling； and embracing each other the next moment with astonishing
versatility of mood。 They live through all their sense at the same time； and；
being philosophers without knowing it； keep the measure of their desires
in accordance with the brevity of life。 I approach a much…patronised tavern；
and see inscribed above the entrance this quatrain in Neopolitan patois：
〃Amice； alliegre magnammo e bevimmo N fin che n'ce stace noglio a
la lucerna： Chi sa s'a l'autro munno n'ce verdimmo？ Chi sa s'a l'autro
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munno n'ce taverna？〃 ＇〃Friends； let us merrily eat and drink as long as oil
remains in the lamp： Who knows if we shall meet again in another world？
Who knows if in the other world there will be a tavern？〃＇
Even such counsels was Horace wont to give to his friends。 You
received them； Posthumus； you heard them also； Leuconoe； perverse
beauty who wished to know the secrets of the future。 That future is now
the past； and we know it well。 Of a truth you were foolish to worry
yourselves about so small a matter； and your friend showed his good sense
when he told you to take life wisely and to filter your Greek wines
〃Sapias； vina liques。〃 Even thus the sight of a fair land under a spotless
sky urges to the pursuit of quiet pleasures。 but there are souls for ever
harassed by some sublime discontent； those are the noblest。 You were of
such； Leuconoe； and I； visiting for the first time； in my declining years；
that city where your beauty was famed of old； I salute with deep respect
your melancholy memory。 Those souls of kin to your own who appeared
in the age of Chrisitianity were souls of saints； and the 〃Golden Legend〃 is
full of the miracles they wrought。 Your friend Horace left a less noble
posterity； and I see one of his descendants in the person of that tavern poet；
who at this moment is serving out wine in cups under the epicurean motto
of his sign。
And yet life decides in favour of friend Flaccus； and his philosophy is
the only one which adapts itself to the course of events。 There is a fellow
leaning against that trellis…work covered with vine… leaves； and eating an
ice； while watching the stars。 He would not stoop even to pick up the old
manuscript I am going to seek with so much trouble and fatigue。 And in
truth man is made rather to eat ices than to pore over old texts。
I continued to wander about among the drinkers and the singers。 There
were lovers biting into beautiful fruit； each with an arm about the other's
waist。 Man must be naturally bad； for all this strange joy only evoked in
me a feeling of uttermost despondency。 That thronging populace displayed
such artless delight in the simple act of living； that all the shynesses
begotten by my old habits as an author awoke and intensified into
something like fright。 Furthermore； I found myself much discouraged by
my inability to understand a word of all the storm of chatter about me。 It
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
was a humiliating experience for a philologist。 Thus I had begun to feel
quite sulky； when I was startled to hear someone behind me observe：
〃Dimitri； that old man is certainly a Frenchman。