Название | THE COMPLETE ROUGON-MACQUART SERIES (All 20 Books in One Edition) |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Ðмиль Ð—Ð¾Ð»Ñ |
Жанр | Языкознание |
Серия | |
Издательство | Языкознание |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9788027219599 |
The artist continued to talk in this strain from the Pont de Neuilly to the Arc de Triomphe. He returned to some of those whom he had already mentioned, and completed their portraits with a few characteristic touches. Logre, he said, was one of the Thin whose belly had been placed between his shoulders. Beautiful Lisa was all stomach, and the beautiful Norman all bosom. Mademoiselle Saget, in her earlier life, must have certainly lost some opportunity to fatten herself, for she detested the Fat, while, at the same time, she despised the Thin. As for Gavard, he was compromising his position as one of the Fat, and would end by becoming as flat as a bug.
“And what about Madame Francois?” Florent asked.
Claude seemed much embarrassed by this question. He cast about for an answer, and at last stammered:
“Madame Francois, Madame Francois — well, no, I really don’t know; I never thought about classifying her. But she’s a dear good soul, and that’s quite sufficient. She’s neither one of the Fat nor one of the Thin!”
They both laughed. They were now in front of the Arc de Triomphe. The sun, over by the hills of Suresnes, was so low on the horizon that their colossal shadows streaked the whiteness of the great structure even above the huge groups of statuary, like strokes made with a piece of charcoal. This increased Claude’s merriment, he waved his arms and bent his body; and then, as he started on his way again, he said; “Did you notice — just as the sun set our two heads shot up to the sky!”
But Florent no longer smiled. Paris was grasping him again, that Paris which now frightened him so much, after having cost him so many tears at Cayenne. When he reached the markets night was falling, and there was a suffocating smell. He bent his head as he once more returned to the nightmare of endless food, whilst preserving the sweet yet sad recollection of that day of bright health odorous with the perfume of thyme.
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