Louis has a lot of wealth, but he is indifferent to money and addicted to it. When he had a premonition that death was coming, he began to write to his wife Elsa, reviewing his life and summarizing the strange and tortured relationship between him and Elsa for decades. In the process of writing this letter intermittently, Louis overheard that his children who had been separated from him since childhood were planning to seize his property with Issa. He pretended not to know, secretly made plans, and was determined to defeat his relatives and let their fantasies fall through. He has no one to entrust this huge legacy except Robert, an illegitimate child. Unexpectedly, the illegitimate child betrayed Louis to his family. Just when the contest between the two sides was finally made public, Isa died suddenly. Louis realized that the snake knot that had entangled himself all his life covered his true self. He didn't hate his family as much as he thought, and he was so greedy for money. So he gave the property to the child without reservation, but the child didn't understand and fell in love with him because of this. Only his granddaughter understood him before he died. She said grandpa was the only religious person she had ever met.
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The grass is brighter than the sky. The ground is full of water and steaming, and the ruts filled with rain reflect the turbid blue in the sky. Everything still interests me as much as when Karez belonged to me. Now I have nothing, but I don't think I'm poor. The grapes are rotten, and it rains heavily at night. The years of poverty made me sad, just like when I was a vineyard owner. I used to feel particularly attached to this industry. In fact, this is only the instinct of farmers, and it is the instinct of farmers' descendants who have been anxiously asking about the weather for generations. The living expenses I should receive every month are deposited in the notary office, and I never feel it necessary. I have been subject to a desire all my life, but it has no power over me. Like a dog barking at the moon, I'm just confused by a reflection. I woke up at the age of 68! Only when you die can you get a new life! I wish I could live a few more years, months and weeks. ...
The nurse left. I feel much better. Amelie and Nestor took care of her, and I left them with me. They will receive injections; I have everything at hand: morphine needles, nitrite needles. The children are very busy and seldom go to the countryside. They only come to me when they need to inquire about the market ... everything is settled, and there is no quarrel: because everyone is afraid of "losing money", they choose a funny plan to divide the whole set of brocade fabrics and glassware equally. They would rather split the tapestry in two than let one person have it for himself. They would rather have no tableware to match than more than one. This is what they call fighting for justice. They will cover up the most despicable feelings in their lives with beautiful words ... no, I shouldn't care about this. Who knows if they are also subject to some desire as I used to be, and this desire does not occupy the deepest part of their souls?
What will they think of me? Said I was defeated and gave in. "They played me." However, every time they visit, they show special respect and gratitude to me. But I still surprised them. Huber paid special attention to me: he was not at ease, not sure if I had disarmed. Don't worry, my poor child. I wasn't so bad when I returned to Karez for illness. What about now? ...
The elm trees beside the highway and the poplar trees beside the grass draw wide and staggered planes with ink lines, and mist accumulates between them-the smoke rising after the mist and weeds are ignited, and the vast breath from the water-soaked earth. Autumn is deep, and the rain beads on the grape clusters are shining. Rainy August caused irreparable damage to grapes. But it's never too late for us. I need to tell myself again and again that it is never too late.
The day after I returned to Karez, I walked into Isa's room, not out of piety. I’m not doing anything right now. All my time in the country is at my own disposal. I don't know whether this is enjoyable or painful for me. It was this emotion that prompted me to push open the door left unlocked, the first room on the left side of the stairs. Not only the windows are wide open, but also the closets and chests of drawers. The servants have cleaned the house. Sunlight poured in and shone on every corner, dispersing the unpredictable legacy of the deceased. One afternoon in September, the waking flies buzzed. The thick and round crown of Tilia amurensis is like a fruit that has been touched. The dark blue of the zenith turned light blue near the horizon, setting off a row of sleeping hills. I heard a girl's crisp laughter, but I couldn't see her figure; Several sun-shading straw hats are moving beside the vines: the harvest season has begun.
But the wonderful life has left her room; There is a pair of gloves and a parasol at the bottom of the wardrobe, which is also like death. I looked at the old stone fireplace and carved rakes, shovels, sickles and wheat bundles on the triangular lintel above the fireplace. This old fireplace can burn the whole trunk, and when it is not used in summer, it will block the mouth of the stove with a large canvas insulation board with pictures. There is a picture of a pair of bulls on the insulation board of the fireplace. One day when I was a child, I lost my temper and stabbed them with a knife. Now the heat shield is leaning against the mantelpiece. I tried to put it right, but at first it fell down, revealing a square black hearth full of ashes. At this time, I remembered the last day that the children told me that Isa was in Karez: "She was burning paper, and we thought the coal in the fireplace chimney was burning ..." Now I know that she has a premonition that she will not live long. One can't think of one's own death and the death of others at the same time: I always feel that my death is not far away. How can I ask Isa about her high blood pressure? "Never mind, I'm old," my silly child always says. But she herself, when she lit the fire, knew that her time had come. She intends to disappear completely from this world; She erased the slightest trace. I looked at the scraps of paper slightly blown by the breeze in the furnace. Isa's fire clip is still hanging at the joint between the fireplace and the wall. I copied the fire trap and stirred up this pile of ashes, a symbol of the underworld.
I look for it in the ashes, as if the bread here contains the secret of my life, the secret of our life. The deeper you sink into the fire, the thicker the ash you encounter. I took out some papers. They must be too thick to burn immediately, so they survived. But I only saved a few words, and I can't guess the meaning. It all comes from the handwriting of someone I don't know. My hands are shaking and my movements are accelerating. A small piece of paper blackened by soot is painted with a small cross. Under it, I read a Latin word: PAX, a date:19123 February 7, and a few words: "My dear daughter ..." There were words on the charred edges of other fragments. I tried my best to sort out a clue, but only got the following result: "This child caused your hatred, and you are not responsible. However, on the contrary, you worked hard ... "After a lot of hard work, I realized:" ... judging the deceased rashly ... his enthusiasm for Luc can't prove ... "The rest of the words were covered with soot, except one sentence:" Forgive, you don't have to know what you need to forgive. Give him yours ... "
I have plenty of time to think in the future, and I just want to find as much as possible at the moment. I bent down and poked at the ash, which made me unable to breathe. I found a notebook with painted cloth. At first glance, it was intact, and now I am extremely excited. I didn't expect there to be a page left in it. I can only recognize the words handwritten by Isa on the cover: "Bouquet of the Soul". There is a passage below: "I must punish those who fall into hell." My name is Jesus. " (Christ and Saint Fran? ois de Char)
There are other quotations below, but they are unrecognizable. I spent a long time in the ashes in vain and never found anything again. I stood up and looked at my black hands. I looked in the mirror and saw a gray mark on my forehead. I suddenly want to go out for a walk, just like when I was a child. I rushed down the stairs in three steps and two steps, forgetting that I had a heart attack.
This is the first time I have walked to the vineyard in weeks. Some grapes have been picked and the whole garden has quietly turned into a dormant period. The scenery is monotonous and clean, filled with water vapor, like the sky-blue soap bubbles blown out by Mary through a straw. After weathering, ruts and hooves become dry and hard. I walk around with the image of a strange Elsa in my heart. It turned out that she suffered strong feelings, and only through the power of God could she subdue them. The housewife became a jealous, mean and credulous woman. She used to hate little Luke ... this woman should hate a child ... because of her love for her own child? Is it because I don't like my children and prefer Luc? But she also hates Marinete ... Yes, yes: I caused her pain; I have the ability to make her suffer. I think this is ridiculous! Marinete is dead, Luke is dead, Isa is dead, they are all dead! And I, a lonely old man, stand on the edge of their buried grave, but I am complacent, because a woman has never cast a cold eye on me, because I have aroused an emotional vortex in her heart!
This is so funny, I really laugh alone. Feeling out of breath, I leaned against a stake clinging to a vine, facing the gloomy vilen. Villages, churches, highways and poplars on the roadside all disappeared in the twilight. The afterglow of the sunset can only shine on this world buried in the fog through layers of obstacles. I feel, I see, I feel my sin. Not all my sins are in this creepy snake knot; I mean my hatred for my own flesh and blood, my desire for revenge and my love for money; My sin lies in refusing to look for anything except this tangled snake. I stayed with this dirty snake knot as if it were my heart-as if the beating of my heart had been integrated with the crawling of this pile of reptiles. For half a century, what I have learned from myself is not who I really am. That's not enough. I can't see the essence of others. The poor look on the children's faces, which blindly seek money, puzzled my eyes. I only see his stupidity in Robert, and I am very satisfied with this appearance. I never think that what others show me is just appearance. I want to discover their true colors through this appearance. I should have realized this when I was in my thirties and forties. But today I am an old man with heart failure. I am going through the last autumn of my life, watching the vineyard fall asleep in the smoke and sunset. Everyone I should love is dead, and everyone who should love me is dead. For those who are still alive, I have no time and energy to get close to them and rediscover them. Everything about me, from my voice and smile to my posture and movements, belongs to a monster. I used that monster to be hostile to society and gave my name to this monster.
When I stood at the end of a bunch of grapes with my back against that stake, facing the colorful Egan ranch in the sunset, weren't these my thoughts repeatedly? An episode I will describe here later may make these ideas clearer, but when I walked home that night, these ideas had already formed. The silence that enveloped the earth that night also filled my body and mind; The shadows on the ground are getting longer and longer, and everything has to be arranged by nature; In the distance, the arc of the mountain shadow looks like a person's shoulder; When the night fog comes, they may stretch their limbs and sleep like people.
I hope Naville Fu and Huber have been waiting for me at home; They promised to have dinner with me. This is the first time in my life that I am looking forward to their arrival, and I am happy about it. I can't wait to let them know about my new life. I must know them, and I must let them know me, without delay. Do I have time to test whether my findings are credible before I die? I want to hurry to the children's hearts, and I want to cross all the obstacles that stand in our way. The snake knot was finally cut. I will win their love soon, and finally they will cry when they close their eyes for me.
They haven't arrived yet. I sat down on the bench by the roadside and listened carefully to the noise of the engine. The later they come, the more I hope they will come. My old temper is back: I don't care if I wait for them here! I can't wait to meet them, they don't care! They stood me up on purpose ... I changed my mind again: they may be late for reasons I don't understand, but I have no reason to be as usual, so I have increased my resentment against them. At night, the church bell rings, and it's time for dinner. I went straight into the kitchen and told Emily to wait a little longer. Ham hangs under the blackened beam in the kitchen, and I seldom show up in this place. I sat on a straw chair by the fire. As soon as I entered the room, amelie, her husband and Kazuo (I could hear them laughing from a distance) kept silent. They gave me a wide berth. I never talk to servants. It's not that my hosts are picky and difficult to serve, but because they don't exist in my eyes and I turn a blind eye to them. But that night, they comforted me. Because the child didn't come, I really want to occupy a corner on the table where the female chef cuts meat.
Kazuo slipped away. Lan put on her white coat and prepared to wait for me for dinner. His silence depressed me. I can't find anything to say when I search my heart. These two men have served us faithfully for twenty years, but I know nothing about them. I finally remembered that they had a daughter, married to Sauveterre de Chiena, and once came to visit them and brought us a rabbit, but Isa didn't pay her for the rabbit because she had eaten at our house several times.
Without looking back, I said in a hurry, "Hello, Ah Mei, how is your daughter?"? Do you still live in Wittler? "
She lowered her tanned face and looked at me for a long time, then said:
"Mr. Wang knows that she has passed away ... 29 is the tenth anniversary of St. Michel's Day. Don't you remember, sir? "
Her husband still didn't say a word, just stared at me severely. He thought I was pretending to forget. I stammered, "Please forgive me ... I'm old and confused ..." But whenever I'm embarrassed and scared, I can't help laughing, and this time it's the same. Nestor announced in his usual voice, "Please eat, sir."
I immediately stood up, walked into the dimly lit restaurant and sat opposite Issa's ghost. This is Naville Fu's seat, followed by Abbe Aduin, and then Bell ... I searched between the window and the sideboard for the high chair where Mary sat. This chair was later used by Yanina and later by Yanina's daughter. I pretended to swallow a few mouthfuls of food: the man was waiting for me, and his eyes made my hair stand on end.
He made a fire with vines in the living room. In this room, just like shells left on the beach after low tide, every generation will leave something behind when they leave: picture books, small boxes, silver plates and old-fashioned oil lamps. The brackets on the wall are covered with gadgets that have long been out of date. The heavy pounding of hooves in the dark and the motor sound of the grape press next door make me uncomfortable. "Son, why haven't you come yet?" I can't help saying this complaint. If this sentence passes through the door of the living room and reaches the ears of the servants, they will think that there is a stranger coming: because it can't be the voice of the old man, and unlike what he said, they think that the old man deliberately pretends not to know that their daughter is dead.
All the people: wife, children, master, servant, all United against my soul, and they gave me this evil role. I am determined never to change the attitude they ask me to take. Out of hatred for me, they imagined me as a certain type of person, and I made myself conform to this type. Sixty-eight years old, I still hope to turn the tide, let them have a new view of me, see my true colors, and see that I have always been such a person: this is not wishful thinking! People only see what they are used to seeing, and for you, poor child, I can't see your true colors. If I were younger than I am now, my habits would not be so deep and hopeless. But I doubt that even when I was young, I might not be able to break the magic. I think there must be a kind of power. What power? Need someone. Yes, I need "that man", by whose side we can all join hands, and he will assure my family of the victory of my inner struggle; Need that person, he will testify for me, will unload the unbearable burden from my shoulder and carry it on himself.
Even the noblest people can't learn to love others by themselves: in order to ignore people's ridiculous behaviors and bad habits, especially their stupidity, it is necessary to master the secret of love, which has been lost in the world! As long as this secret is not found back, it is futile for you to change people's situation: I think my egoism makes me indifferent to all economic and social problems. It is true that I am a lonely and insensitive monster; But I also have a feeling, a vague belief that it is useless to change the face of the world; Must touch the heart of the world. I am looking for the only person who can accomplish this achievement. That person must be the heart in everyone's heart and the fiery center of all love. My wish may be no different from prayer. That night, I hardly knelt on the chair, just as Isa used to do on summer nights. Isa knelt down, and the three children knelt beside her tightly. At that time, I got off the platform and walked to this lighted window. I was very quiet, hiding in the dark garden and watching them pray to God. Isa said a prayer and said, My Lord, I worship. Thank you for your kindness. You gave me a heart that can understand you and love you ... "
I stood in the middle of the room, wobbling as if I had been beaten. I'm looking back on my life and facing it squarely. No, my life is like a mud flow, and it is impossible to go upstream. I used to be stingy and didn't make any friends. But, I think, isn't it because I never know how to hide myself? If everyone takes off their masks, as I have been doing for half a century, people may be surprised to find that there is little difference between them. Honestly, no one showed his true colors, no one. Most people pretend to be dignified and noble: they unconsciously imitate literature or other typical examples. All saints know this, because they see through each other, so they hate and despise each other. If I were not so naked, so open, so naked, I wouldn't be so despised.
These are the thoughts that flashed through my mind that night. As I thought, I paced in the dark room and bumped into heavy mahogany and ebony furniture from time to time. A family is like a sunken ship, and furniture is like floating objects trapped in the sand. How many generations have sat on it, and now it has already vanished. 1870 When children were buried in the sofa and leafing through Picture World, their boots were smeared on the sofa: there were black marks in these places. The wind circled around the house and the dead leaves of the bodhi tree danced up and down. The servant forgot to close the shutters of one bedroom.
(translated by Jin Zhiping and Shi)
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Rest in peace.
The Bishop of Geneva, Saint Fran? ois de Char (1567-1622), has written many religious works.
A town in Gironde province.
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Is there anything more disappointing and sad than misreading your own heart? Moreover, once this misunderstanding occurs, it will not be corrected until the relatives die one by one and are about to die. The long life has quietly passed away before they suddenly wake up. What emotion is more difficult and painful than hatred? Besides, the objects of this hatred are all close relatives, so they exile themselves outside the happy family and warm family, just like lonely wandering souls. Everything comes from the snake knot of resentment in my heart, and it's too late. Louis, a rich lawyer and vineyard owner, seems to have finally found the home of his soul. And that kind of melancholy and cold that has been pent up for decades lingers in the novel for a long time, which makes people smile.
The Snake Knot published in 1932 (also translated as Agkistrodon Knot) has always been regarded as the representative work of French writer mauriac, and mauriac himself said it was his "most satisfactory" work. Contrary to Louis, the hero of the novel, the writer believes in Catholicism all his life. In his speech after 1952 won the Nobel Prize in Literature, he said: "Many people no longer believe in God, but it's not that they don't believe in the value expounded by this belief. Good without evil, evil without good. Each of us must face our own destiny in loneliness until we die-this is the ultimate loneliness, because in the end we will all die alone. " As an academician of the French Academy of Arts and an outstanding French master of social novels and psychoanalytic novels, he described the loneliness of life in Snake Knot, explored the real motives of characters' behavior, and dedicated the gratitude of salvation to God. Chapter 18 of the Excerpted Novel embodies the above contents.
When Louis carefully planned a plot to destroy the property of Isa and the children, Isa died of illness. Her death was a strong feeling for Louis, as if the enemy who had been fighting for many years suddenly disappeared. What she felt inside was not the pleasure of revenge, but the disappointment of unhappiness. What's more, after all, she is his wife, the woman he loved when he was young. We can see that Isa has been buried, but the mark left by the arrival of death is that Jeanlouis lost her edge in an instant. Over the years, he fought bravely with his family almost like a lonely hero. He took the initiative to disarm, quit the battlefield, divide the property, and satisfied the children's desires. Louis, who gave up money and competition, had the energy and time to review his life. His eyes, revenged and hated, restored their eyes in the beautiful scene. The grass, sky and vineyards are brighter, and he is refreshed and awake after his new life, which makes him eager to live longer.
When Louis reflected on his life track, he began to realize that he needed a kind of strength, a person to help him get rid of magic, lose hatred and return to kindness. Obviously, this power belongs to faith, and this person is Jesus. There are two children who play the role of angels in the novel. One is Louis' youngest daughter, Mary, who died at an early age, and the other is his nephew Luc. These two children are both Christians. Compared with the indifference and vigilance of the rest of the family towards Louis, they always love him and are close to him. When they were around Louis, it was as if a series of kind and gentle lights were shining on him. Louis held Mary like a wild animal and licked the feet of the little martyr, while Luke was nature itself in his eyes, as innocent as dew on the grass. After Mary's death, Louis can still feel her presence, often like a sudden breeze, passing through his bleak career. And when little Luc came back from mass and ran to Louis, the light of the sacred temple in his eyes once made his heart tremble. A seed has been planted, but it is covered with snow and ice, and the seed has not germinated yet. Today, when Louis entered his twilight years, decades of feuds and enmities were swept away, and he naturally nestled in the arms of God. At the end of the novel and throughout his life, Louis is almost like a devout believer at heart. He prayed to God wholeheartedly, eager to give God a loving heart. For the transformation and transformation of characters, some critics think it is a blunt elevation and a clumsy tail. This accusation is inaccurate. Louis's change is not without prelude. As I said just now, his emotional closeness and the destination of his soul are natural results, although it is late.
So, why is it so late? The narrative and description in the novel are equally credible and tortuous. Louis's birth made him subjectively regard Christianity as the etiquette of the rich, but at first he was not opposed to religious belief. When he thought that Elsa chose him because she loved him, he had accompanied her to mass and watched her bow down. He was sincerely moved. Then he found out that the marriage that Isa brought him was a scam. She used him to forget an affair and find a place to stay. His heart became cold, and he began to hate everything that Isa liked, including religious beliefs. He refused to go to mass and pray because he opposed Issa and deliberately chewed steak on Good Friday. At the same time, he saw with disdain that although Isa prayed every day and went to church every week, she did not put the true Christian doctrine into practice. What she preached verbally ran counter to what she actually did. She has no charity, is harsh and mean to tenants, and is heartless to her sister, including her understanding of death, which is not a true Christian detachment. She doesn't believe in heaven or soul. She thinks that when Mary dies, she doesn't exist. On the contrary, Louis felt that he had never lost her, and Mary gained eternal life in his heart. What is shown here is not blasphemy, but worship. The author is implying that true Christians are not people who shuttle between churches and scriptures, but people who have love and faith in their hearts.
The writer once said, "In fact, I love the most pitiful characters in my works. The less fortunate they are, the more I love them. " So he excused the characters, instead of writing absolute good and evil, he wrote the conflict between good and evil. In the preface of this novel, the writer clearly points out that the evil snake knot in Louis's heart is because the sad desire obscures his sight, and it is vulgar Christians who spy on him in the dark and abandon him, making him unable to see the truth clearly. The author is deeply sympathetic to this character. While describing Louis' secret plot, he enveloped Louis with great loneliness and desolation. A firm sadness floats in the novel. Isa owes him so much. "I could have been the backbone of these new shoots." Most fathers are loved by their children. You are my enemy, and all my children have defected. "How miserable this life is! Jeanlouis, frustrated by Isa, became a "master who destroyed all feelings". His understanding of "love" is: one hand gives, the other hand delivers ... disgusting! "Isa not only occupied his wife's legal status, but also deprived him of his ability to love. Living under the same roof, we are wary and hate each other. We have no support and no trust. Through the inner conflicts and oppositions of the characters, the author vividly explores the difficulties of communication between people and shows a real and inevitable life full of profound tragedies. In the excerpt, Louis learned some truth from the pieces of paper in the fireplace. He thought that she didn't care about herself, but she didn't completely ignore him. The discovery was too late, but it comforted him and he smiled. For people who have lived in loneliness for many years, this little warmth seems a bit extravagant. Throughout your life, the infighting between you and me has finally ended. What kind of life does this couple live? What kind of marriage is this? Readers can't help but feel that there is a mountain between people's hearts, which is an insurmountable and frightening distance.
The style of the work is exquisite and the language is poetic. The novel deliberately provides a detail: there are black marks on the sofa that were worn off by children Victoria Christina Hesketh many years ago. The black mark is still there, but how many years have passed and how many emotions have been lost in the years without a trace. The wind and dead leaves imply the withering of the wind and candles, and the sadness of life gently beats the reader's heart. Psychological novels pay attention to the analysis of the psychological activities of characters and arrange stories with a three-dimensional view of time and space. The development of events is not always forward-forward-forward, but out of the linear time sequence, completely listen to the flow of consciousness, remember or put down a fragment, so as to actively participate in the ongoing thinking activities. In this novel, the writer relies entirely on Louis' psychological activities to support the bones and muscles of the whole work. Decades of years' changes, long life emotional encounters, people who have lived and died, etc., accompanied by Louis' memory, returned to their hearts, and the real life that is still going on constitutes Louis' inner symphony. He sat today and walked in the past, because it was unforgettable and everything was still clear.
(Sun Yue)