悲惨世界 Les Misérables 2-04

CHAPTER IV—DETAILS CONCERNING THE CHEESE-DAIRIES OF PONTARLIER. Now, in order to convey an idea of what passed at that table, we cannot do better than to transcribe here a passage from one of Mademoiselle Baptistine’s letters to Madame Boischevron, wherein the conversation between the convict and the Bishop is described with ingenious minuteness. “. . . This man paid no attention to any one. He ate with the voracity of a starving man. However, after supper he said: “‘Monsieur le Curé of the good God, all this is far too good for me; but I must say that the carters who would not allow me to eat with them keep a better table than you do.’ “Between ourselves, the remark rather shocked me. My brother replied:— “‘They are more fatigued than I.’ “‘No,’ returned the man, ‘they have more money. You are poor; I see that plainly. You cannot be even a curate. Are you really a curé? Ah, if the good God were but just, you certainly ought to be a curé!’ “‘The good God is more than just,’ said my brother. “A moment later he added:— “‘Monsieur Jean Valjean, is it to Pontarlier that you are going?’ “‘With my road marked out for me.’ “I think that is what the man said. Then he went on:— “‘I must be on my way by daybreak to-morrow. Travelling is hard. If the nights are cold, the days are hot.’ “‘You are going to a good country,’ said my brother. ‘During the Revolution my family was ruined. I took refuge in Franche-Comté at first, and there I lived for some time by the toil of my hands. My will was good. I found plenty to occupy me. One has only to choose. There are paper mills, tanneries, distilleries, oil factories, watch factories on a large scale, steel mills, copper works, twenty iron foundries at least, four of which, situated at Lods, at Châtillon, at Audincourt, and at Beure, are tolerably large.’ “I think I am not mistaken in saying that those are the names which my brother mentioned. Then he interrupted himself and addressed me:— “‘Have we not some relatives in those parts, my dear sister?’ “I replied,— “‘We did have some; among others, M. de Lucenet, who was captain of the gates at Pontarlier under the old régime.’ “‘Yes,’ resumed my brother; ‘but in ’93, one had no longer any relatives, one had only one’s arms. I worked. They have, in the country of Pontarlier, whither you are going, Monsieur Valjean, a truly patriarchal and truly charming industry, my sister. It is their cheese-dairies, which they call fruitières.’