【原著阅读】漂亮朋友 （中英文对照）.docx

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1、【原著阅读】漂亮朋友 Bel Ami （中英文对照）Chapter 1 PovertyAfter changing his five-franc piece Georges Duroy left the restaurant. He twisted his mustache in military style and cast a rapid, sweeping glance upon the diners, among whom were three saleswomen, an untidy music-teacher of uncertain age, and two women wit

2、h their husbands.When he reached the sidewalk, he paused to consider what route he should take. It was the twenty-eighth of June and he had only three francs in his pocket to last him the remainder of the month. That meant two dinners and no lunches, or two lunches and no dinners, according to choic

3、e. As he pondered upon this unpleasant state of affairs, he sauntered down Rue Notre Dame de Lorette, preserving his military air and carriage, and rudely jostled the people upon the streets in order to clear a path for himself. He appeared to be hostile to the passers-by, and even to the houses, th

4、e entire city.Tall, well-built, fair, with blue eyes, a curled mustache, hair naturally wavy and parted in the middle, he recalled the hero of the popular romances.It was one of those sultry, Parisian evenings when not a breath of air is stirring; the sewers exhaled poisonous gases and the restauran

5、ts the disagreeable odors of cooking and of kindred smells. Porters in their shirt-sleeves, astride their chairs, smoked their pipes at the carriage gates, and pedestrians strolled leisurely along, hats in hand.When Georges Duroy reached the boulevard he halted again, undecided as to which road to c

6、hoose. Finally he turned toward the Madeleine and followed the tide of people.The large, well-patronized cafes tempted Duroy, but were he to drink only two glasses of beer in an evening, farewell to the meager supper the following night! Yet he said to himself: “I will take a glass at the Americain.

7、 By Jove, I am thirsty.”He glanced at men seated at the tables, men who could afford to slake their thirst, and he scowled at them. “Rascals!” he muttered. If he could have caught one of them at a corner in the dark he would have choked him without a scruple! He recalled the two years spent in Afric

8、a, and the manner in which he had extorted money from the Arabs. A smile hovered about his lips at the recollection of an escapade which had cost three men their lives, a foray which had given his two comrades and himself seventy fowls, two sheep, money, and something to laugh about for six months.

9、The culprits were never found; indeed, they were not sought for, the Arab being looked upon as the soldiers prey.But in Paris it was different; there one could not commit such deeds with impunity. He regretted that he had not remained where he was; but he had hoped to improve his condition and for t

10、hat reason he was in Paris!He passed the Vaudeville and stopped at the Cafe Americain, debating as to whether he should take that “glass.” Before deciding, he glanced at a clock; it was a quarter past nine. He knew that when the beer was placed in front of him, he would drink it; and then what would

11、 he do at eleven oclock? So he walked on, intending to go as far as the Madeleine and return.When he reached the Place de lOpera, a tall, young man passed him, whose face he fancied was familiar. He followed him, repeating: “Where the deuce have I seen that fellow?”For a time he racked his brain in

12、vain; then suddenly he saw the same man, but not so corpulent and more youthful, attired in the uniform of a Hussar. He exclaimed: “Wait, Forestier!” and hastening up to him, laid his hand upon the mans shoulder. The latter turned, looked at him, and said: “What do you want, sir?”Duroy began to laug

13、h: “Dont you remember me?”“No.”“Not remember Georges Duroy of the Sixth Hussars.”Forestier extended both hands.“Ah, my dear fellow, how are you?”“Very well. And how are you?”“Oh, I am not very well. I cough six months out of the twelve as a result of bronchitis contracted at Bougival, about the time

14、 of my return to Paris four years ago.”“But you look well.”Forestier, taking his former comrades arm, told him of his malady, of the consultations, the opinions and the advice of the doctors and of the difficulty of following their advice in his position. They ordered him to spend the winter in the

15、south, but how could he? He was married and was a journalist in a responsible editorial position.“I manage the political department on La Vie Francaise; I report the doings of the Senate for Le Salut, and from time to time I write for La Planete. That is what I am doing.”Duroy, in surprise, glanced

16、at him. He was very much changed. Formerly Forestier had been thin, giddy, noisy, and always in good spirits. But three years of life in Paris had made another man of him; now he was stout and serious, and his hair was gray on his temples although he could not number more than twenty-seven years.For

17、estier asked: “Where are you going?”Duroy replied: “Nowhere in particular.”“Very well, will you accompany me to the Vie Francaise where I have some proofs to correct; and afterward take a drink with me?”“Yes, gladly.”They walked along arm-in-arm with that familiarity which exists between schoolmates

18、 and brother-officers.“What are you doing in Paris?” asked Forestier, Duroy shrugged his shoulders.“Dying of hunger, simply. When my time was up, I came hither to make my fortune, or rather to live in Paris and for six months I have been employed in a railroad office at fifteen hundred francs a year

19、.”Forestier murmured: “That is not very much.”“But what can I do?” answered Duroy. “I am alone, I know no one, I have no recommendations. The spirit is not lacking, but the means are.”His companion looked at him from head to foot like a practical man who is examining a subject; then he said, in a to

20、ne of conviction: “You see, my dear fellow, all depends on assurance, here. A shrewd, observing man can sometimes become a minister. You must obtrude yourself and yet not ask anything. But how is it you have not found anything better than a clerkship at the station?”Duroy replied: “I hunted everywhe

21、re and found nothing else. But I know where I can get three thousand francs at least as riding- master at the Pellerin school.”Forestier stopped him: “Dont do it, for you can earn ten thousand francs. You will ruin your prospects at once. In your office at least no one knows you; you can leave it if

22、 you wish to at any time. But when you are once a riding-master all will be over. You might as well be a butler in a house to which all Paris comes to dine. When you have given riding lessons to men of the world or to their sons, they will no longer consider you their equal.”He paused, reflected sev

23、eral seconds and then asked:“Are you a bachelor?”“Yes, though I have been smitten several times.”“That makes no difference. If Cicero and Tiberius were mentioned would you know who they were?”“Yes.”“Good, no one knows any more except about a score of fools. It is not difficult to pass for being lear

24、ned. The secret is not to betray your ignorance. Just maneuver, avoid the quicksands and obstacles, and the rest can be found in a dictionary.”He spoke like one who understood human nature, and he smiled as the crowd passed them by. Suddenly he began to cough and stopped to allow the paroxysm to spe

25、nd itself; then he said in a discouraged tone:“Isnt it tiresome not to be able to get rid of this bronchitis? And here is midsummer! This winter I shall go to Mentone. Health before everything.”They reached the Boulevarde Poissoniere; behind a large glass door an open paper was affixed; three people

26、 were reading it. Above the door was printed the legend, “La Vie Francaise.”Forestier pushed open the door and said: “Come in.” Duroy entered; they ascended the stairs, passed through an antechamber in which two clerks greeted their comrade, and then entered a kind of waiting- room.“Sit down,” said

27、Forestier, “I shall be back in five minutes,” and he disappeared.Duroy remained where he was; from time to time men passed him by, entering by one door and going out by another before he had time to glance at them.Now they were young men, very young, with a busy air, holding sheets of paper in their

28、 hands; now compositors, their shirts spotted with ink carefully carrying what were evidently fresh proofs. Occasionally a gentleman entered, fashionably dressed, some reporter bringing news.Forestier reappeared arm-in-arm with a tall, thin man of thirty or forty, dressed in a black coat, with a whi

29、te cravat, a dark complexion, and an insolent, self-satisfied air. Forestier said to him: “Adieu, my dear sir,” and the other pressed his hand with: “Au revoir, my friend.” Then he descended the stairs whistling, his cane under his arm.Duroy asked his name.“That is Jacques Rival, the celebrated writ

30、er and duelist. He came to correct his proofs. Garin, Montel and he are the best witty and realistic writers we have in Paris. He earns thirty thousand francs a year for two articles a week.”As they went downstairs, they met a stout, little man with long hair, who was ascending the stairs whistling.

31、 Forestier bowed low.“Norbert de Varenne,” said he, “the poet, the author of Les Soleils Morts, a very expensive man. Every poem he gives us costs three hundred francs and the longest has not two hundred lines. But let us go into the Napolitain, I am getting thirsty.”When they were seated at a table

32、, Forestier ordered two glasses of beer. He emptied his at a single draught, while Duroy sipped his beer slowly as if it were something rare and precious. Suddenly his companion asked, “Why dont you try journalism?”Duroy looked at him in surprise and said: “Because I have never written anything.”“Ba

33、h, we all have to make a beginning. I could employ you myself by sending you to obtain information. At first you would only get two hundred and fifty francs a month but your cab fare would be paid. Shall I speak to the manager?”“If you will.”“Well, then come and dine with me to-morrow; I will only a

34、sk five or six to meet you; the manager, M. Walter, his wife, with Jacques Rival, and Norbert de Varenne whom you have just seen, and also a friend of Mme. Forestier, Will you come?”Duroy hesitated, blushing and perplexed. Finally he, murmured: “I have no suitable clothes.”Forestier was amazed. “You

35、 have no dress suit? Egad, that is indispensable. In Paris, it is better to have no bed than no clothes.” Then, fumbling in his vest-pocket, he drew from it two louis, placed them before his companion, and said kindly: “You can repay me when it is convenient. Buy yourself what you need and pay an in

36、stallment on it. And come and dine with us at half past seven, at 17 Rue Fontaine.”In confusion Duroy picked up the money and stammered: “You are very kind I am much obliged be sure I shall not forget.”Forestier interrupted him: “Thats all right, take another glass of beer. Waiter, two more glasses!

37、” When he had paid the score, the journalist asked: “Would you like a stroll for an hour?”“Certainly.”They turned toward the Madeleine. “What shall we do?” asked Forestier. “They say that in Paris an idler can always find amusement, but it is not true. A turn in the Bois is only enjoyable if you hav

38、e a lady with you, and that is a rare occurrence. The cafe concerts may divert my tailor and his wife, but they do not interest me. So what can we do? Nothing! There ought to be a summer garden here, open at night, where a man could listen to good music while drinking beneath the trees. It would be

39、a pleasant lounging place. You could walk in alleys bright with electric light and seat yourself where you pleased to hear the music. It would be charming. Where would you like to go?”Duroy did not know what to reply; finally he said: “I have never been to the Folies Bergeres. I should like to go th

40、ere.”His companion exclaimed: “The Folies Bergeres! Very well!”They turned and walked toward the Faubourg Montmartre. The brilliantly illuminated building loomed up before them. Forestier entered, Duroy stopped him. “We forgot to pass through the gate.”The other replied in a consequential tone: “I n

41、ever pay,” and approached the box-office.“Have you a good box?”“Certainly, M. Forestier.”He took the ticket handed him, pushed open the door, and they were within the hall. A cloud of tobacco smoke almost hid the stage and the opposite side of the theater. In the spacious foyer which led to the circ

42、ular promenade, brilliantly dressed women mingled with black-coated men.Forestier forced his way rapidly through the throng and accosted an usher.“Box 17?”“This way, sir.”The friends were shown into a tiny box, hung and carpeted in red, with four chairs upholstered in the same color. They seated the

43、mselves. To their right and left were similar boxes. On the stage three men were performing on trapezes. But Duroy paid no heed to them, his eyes finding more to interest them in the grand promenade. Forestier remarked upon the motley appearance of the throng, but Duroy did not listen to him. A woma

44、n, leaning her arms upon the edge of her loge, was staring at him. She was a tall, voluptuous brunette, her face whitened with enamel, her black eyes penciled, and her lips painted. With a movement of her head, she summoned a friend who was passing, a blonde with auburn hair, likewise inclined to em

45、bonpoint, and said to her in a whisper intended to be heard; “There is a nice fellow!”Forestier heard it, and said to Duroy with a smile: “You are lucky, my dear boy. My congratulations!”The ci-devant soldier blushed and mechanically fingered the two pieces of gold in his pocket.The curtain fell the

46、 orchestra played a valse and Duroy said:“Shall we walk around the gallery?”“If you like.”Soon they were carried along in the current of promenaders. Duroy drank in with delight the air, vitiated as it was by tobacco and cheap perfume, but Forestier perspired, panted, and coughed.“Let us go into the

47、 garden,” he said. Turning to the left, they entered a kind of covered garden in which two large fountains were playing. Under the yews, men and women sat at tables drinking.“Another glass of beer?” asked Forestier.“Gladly.”They took their seats and watched the promenaders. Occasionally a woman woul

48、d stop and ask with a coarse smile: “What have you to offer, sir?”Forestiers invariable answer was: “A glass of water from the fountain.” And the woman would mutter, “Go along,” and walk away.At last the brunette reappeared, arm-in-arm with the blonde. They made a handsome couple. The former smiled

49、on perceiving Duroy, and taking a chair she calmly seated herself in front of him, and said in a clear voice: “Waiter, two glasses.”In astonishment, Forestier exclaimed: “You are not at all bashful!”She replied: “Your friend has bewitched me; he is such a fine fellow. I believe he has turned my head.”Duroy said nothing.The waiter brought the beer, which the women swallowed