Balzac Collection - Bedtime Stories for Middle School Students [VII]

Author: (French) Balzac
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2006-06-01
Features: High-Low Chapin's Boarding House A widow named Chapin, whose maiden name was Gouffier, ran a boarding house in Paris for forty years. Located on Saint-Genevieve Street between the Latin Quarter and the suburbs of Saint-Martin, the establishment, known as "Chapin's Boarding House," treated both men and women equally, never having suffered from gossip due to moral issues, yet over three decades, no girls had stayed there; only occasionally would one or two young men come to live there if their families provided very little money. Despite these conditions, in 1819, as this tragedy unfolded, the boarding house indeed housed a poor young girl. Although the term "tragedy" has been overused and distorted by sentimental and suffering-praising literary works to the point where no one believes it anymore, it must be used here. In its true sense, this story lacks dramatic elements, but after the completion of this book, perhaps some people in and outside the city will shed a few tears after reading it. Whether others outside Paris will understand this work is uncertain; it contains many local references that can only be understood by those living between Montmartre and the Montparnasse Plateau. This famous basin, with its walls constantly peeling and its gutters filled with black mire, is filled with real hardships and false joys, so busy that it is unclear what major event would cause a stir there. However, there are also scattered pains, made grand and solemn by the mixture of vice and virtue, which occasionally awaken selfish people to a moment of sympathy. But this feeling is fleeting, like a delicious fruit swallowed whole. Civilization is like a large cart, similar to the god carts of India, which pauses slightly before a heart less easily shattered, then immediately crushes it and continues its relentless advance. The readers are probably the same—holding this book with snow-white hands, buried in a soft sofa, thinking: perhaps this novel can entertain me. After reading the mysterious story of High-Low, you will still eat dinner with a good appetite, blaming the author for your indifference, saying the author exaggerates and overdoes it. In fact, they do not know that this tragedy is neither fictional nor a novel. It is all true, so true that everyone can find something of it in themselves or in their hearts. This boarding house is Madame Chapin's property, located on the lower part of Saint-Genevieve Street, where the slope descends toward the Rue des Arquebusiers. The slope is very steep, so even horses rarely go up or down, making the narrow streets between the Abbey of Saint-Denis and the Pantheon particularly quiet. The two grand buildings cast a yellowish hue over the surroundings, affecting the atmosphere; the arched windows are somber and oppressive, making everything around seem lifeless. The cobblestones on the street are dry, and the sewers are free of and water, with grass growing along the walls. Once you arrive here, even the most carefree person will feel unhappy, as all passersby do. The sound of a carriage here is a major event; the houses are lifeless, and the walls carry a sense of prison. In this area, one can only see boarding houses or private schools, suffering or worries, dying old people or young people who must study hard despite their desire for pleasure. No district in Paris is more ugly or less known than this one, especially Saint-Genevieve Street, which seems like an ancient bronze frame and fits this story perfectly. To help the readers understand, it is not excessive to use grayish-black colors and somber descriptions, just as visitors to the early Christian catacombs find each step more terrifying than the last. The side of the boarding house faces the street, with a small garden in front. The entire house forms a right angle with Saint-Genevieve Street. Between the house and the garden is a slightly concave stone path, about 2 meters wide. In front, there is a small path paved with sand, lined with ivy, bougainvillea, and pomegranate trees, all planted in large blue-and-white ceramic pots. At one end of the path, near the street, there is a small gate with a sign that reads: "Chapin's Boarding House," followed by a few lines: "We provide food and lodging for all, young and old, welcome." The gate by the street has a bell that rings especially harshly. During the day, if you stand outside the gate and look in, you can see a light blue niche on the wall at the end of the path, likely painted by a local artist. Inside the niche is a statue of Cupid: covered in mottled glaze, seen by art lovers as a symbol of love sickness, though there is a hospital nearby that treats such ailments. The on the statue's base reminds one of its age, dating back to the time when Voltaire returned to Paris in 1777, a year when he was widely celebrated. The inscriptions read: "It was, it is, and perhaps it will always be." At night, the gate is replaced with a wooden door. The width of the garden is exactly the same as the length of the house's facade. On both sides of the garden, one side borders the street, and the other borders the dividing wall with the neighbors. A large ivy covers the boundary wall, making it stand out in Paris. Fruits and grapevines climb the walls everywhere, their thin and dusty fruits a constant source of worry for Madame Chapin, who often mentions them to her boarders. Along the two sides of the house, there is a narrow path leading to a grove of. Although Madame Chapin, though from the Gouffier family, always mispronounced "," and her boarders often corrected her, to no avail. Between the two paths, there is a large square where artichokes are grown, flanked by fruit trees shaped into cones, surrounded by mushroom baskets, celery, and sorrel. Under the, there is a green painted round table with several stools around it. On hot summer days, a group of wealthy coffee drinkers would come here to enjoy coffee in the heat that could hatch chickens. The four-story house with an attic was built of coarse sandstone, its yellowish paint nearly ruining the image of Paris. Each floor has five small glass windows; the wooden blinds hang unevenly, high and low. The side of the house also has two windows, the lower ones fitted with iron grates and wire mesh. Behind the main house is a twenty-foot-wide courtyard where pigs, ducks, and rabbits lived peacefully together; inside the courtyard was a woodshed. A cool pantry connects the shed to the kitchen's back window, with dirty water flowing from the dishwashing sink below. Near the Saint-Genevieve Street, there is a small door through which the housekeeper would sweep garbage onto the street when the kitchen stank. The house was originally intended for a boarding house. The first downstairs room facing the street has two windows for light, with boarders entering and leaving through a large floor-to-ceiling window. The living room leads to the dining room, which is separated from the kitchen by a staircase. The steps are made of wood and colored tiles. At a glance, the living room looks the most miserable: a few sofas and chairs covered in horsehair, with a network of light and dark stripes. In the center, there is a black-and-white marble round table with a set of white porcelain cups on it, the gold trim mostly peeling off—cups still common everywhere. The floor of the room is poor, with half-human-high wainscoting and the rest covered in oilcloth painted with scenes from the main acts of Dramaturgie de la Mère Dorée, with famous characters in colorful costumes. Between the two wire-mesh windows, a wall is painted with the banquet hosted by Galathea for the son of Alceste, a favorite among young boarders who would laugh at their meager meals to show how much higher their status was than their circumstances. On the stone mantelpiece, there are two bottles of old paper flowers in glass cases, with a rough half-blue, half-white marble clock in the middle. The fireplace inside is clean, indicating it is rarely used. The room has a strange smell, almost indescribable, called the "boarding house smell." It is a closed, moldy, and sour odor that chills the air, feels greasy in the nose, and seeps into the clothes. It is the smell of a recently eaten dining room, of food and dishes, of an orphanage, and of the particular smell of the young and old boarders, all combining into an disgusting mixture. If analyzed, perhaps this smell could be described. Still, despite the room's nausea-inducing nature, compared to the dining room next door, it still seems quite decent and fragrant, almost like the drawing room of a lady.