´ó½ÈË¿ÉÒÔÂòµÄÏã¸Û²ÊƱ:Ïà¹ØÈí¼þ ´óÉñÉý¼¶ÁùµãÁ㣬²¥·ÅÆ÷ ×Ô¶¯ÏÂÔØ×ÖÄ»£¬Î¢ÐÅ5.4£¬Ñý¹Ö°Ù¼§Ì·¹ú·þ£¬ÈËÁ¦×ÊÔ´»úÆ÷°æ£¬6.0 ɾ³ýϵͳÈí¼þ£¬ÔõÑùÄÜÏÂÆ»¹ûÈí¼þÂð

CHAPTER IV¤¤¹Ó³¥¥¤¥¥�ñÊÞ¥[Pg 196]À·¥Ô¤Æí¥¤

�¤¥¤ÅÝ¥ãظòáµ�¤¤¤¥ç�¥¡¤äÙ¤¤®Â¥

�¥¥Ê¥áå¦When a native comes to ask a favour he brings a few rupees in his hand, and the patron must take them and hold them a few minutes. A retired Sikh trooper had come to see his son, now a soldier in the regiment, and met the colonel, who asked him whether he could do anything for him, to which the other replied:¥¥Ûñß�ò줥ë¥

�Õ¥¤±Û¥�¤c¸·ßæ²¤í©¥�â¥Ðà¥Ï

When Louis XIV. died, people were very tired of this altered state of things. For some time they had been extremely dull and were eager for change and amusement.쥥¤¥¥¿¥á¤¥È[40]¥Æ¥Øؤ�Þ¤º¥å¤¥ç¥

Marie Antoinette was tall, well-formed, with perfectly shaped arms, hands and feet, a brilliant complexion, bluish-grey eyes, delicate though not regular features, a charming expression and a most imposing air, which very much intimidated Mme. Le Brun during the first sitting. But the kindness and gentleness with which the Queen talked to the young artist soon set her at ease, and when the portrait, which was to be presented to the Emperor Joseph II., was finished, she was desired to make two copies of it; one to be sent to the Empress Catherine of Russia, the other to be placed in the royal apartments, either at Versailles or Fontainebleau. After these she painted several portraits of the Queen, one of which, in a straw hat, was, when exhibited in the Salon, 1786, declared by one of those malicious slanders then becoming frequent, to be the Queen en chemise.¤²ç¤¤And so on, in an endless file, come the bodies of the faithful dead, some from long distances, so that their souls may rise at once to paradise from their ashes burnt on the Manumenka.ã¥×ÚShe really cared very little for the money she so easily made, all her love was for her art, which alone had the power to raise her above the petty miseries and troubles of her present life.¥¤î¥¤Ó

Mme. de Verdun, an intimate friend of hers, came to see her in the morning, and regarding her with disapprobation, asked whether she had got everything ready that she would require; to which Lisette, still occupied with her picture, replied with a look of astonishment that she did not know what she would require.¥ã𤥤¤At the very top of the incline, the enclosing wall, black with age but bright with yellow velvet moss, rises precipitously above the plain, and three light balconies, with columns as slight as flower-stems,[Pg 77] crowned with pointed roofs recurved at the angles, overhang the abyss.³¤ºÏ¢¥¤¤Ù¤£æÒThe childhood of Lisette—Extraordinary talent—The convent—The household of an artist—Death of M. Vigée—Despair of Lisette—Begins her career—Re-marriage of her mother—The Dauphine.¹á¤¤¥¤¤©Ð¤

�¥ª¥´As we stood up there the caravan for Cabul came in sight on the road below, and slowly disappeared wrapped in dust, with mechanical steadiness and[Pg 250] without a sound. After that came the other train of travellers from Peshawur, singing to the accompaniment of mule-bells, every sound swelled by the echo. Children's laughter came up to our ears, the scream of an elephant angry at being stopped—even at a distance we could still hear them a little—and then silence fell again under the flight of the eagles soaring in circles further and further away as they followed the caravan.¿¥¥Ñݥ๤¥¤Þ�¥½«¤¨¤ª®¦Ù¥¤

In the sacred tank, where Vishnu bathes when[Pg 165] he comes on earth, an old woman was standing pouring the stagnant green water over her body, while others of the faithful, seated on the steps, were piously drinking the stuff from a coco-nut that they handed round. In one corner of this pool was an exquisite bower of floating wreaths—yellow, white, and violet—a splash of bright colour on the squalid water.륥Ǥ¤Í¶¤In front of a statue of Kali with a hundred arms, surrounded by rough votive offerings carved in wood, most of them representing legs, a man was pouring out rice, and a whole flight of grey leilas—birds like magpies—almost settled on his hands: birds of the temple, so familiar that one even allowed me to catch it, and did not fly away at once when I set it at liberty. There are rows of black Buddhas, white Buddhas, Sivas painted red—terrible—straddling in fighting attitudes; pilgrims without end bow and pray in front of each idol.Ú§¤¤�¥Î¦¤´¹ë¥¤

On a square, shaded by an awning, with porticoes all round, coolies in white dresses sat on the ground making up little bunches of flowers, the blossoms without stems tied close to a pliant cane for garlands—jasmine, roses, chrysanthemums, and sweet basil—for in India, as in Byzantium of old, basil is the flower of kings and gods. The basil's fresh scent overpowered the smell of sandal-wood and incense which had gradually soaked into me in the presence of the idols, and cleared the atmosphere delightfully. A woman rolled up in pale-tinted muslins under the warm halo of light falling through the[Pg 80] awning, was helping one of the florists. She supported on her arm a long garland of jasmine alternating with balls of roses. Almost motionless, she alone, in the midst of the idols, at all reminded me of a goddess.Î¥¥£´Í¥×¥¥From the broad steps on the shore other narrower flights lead to archways and porticoes, or zigzag up to the lanes that make a gap of distant blackness in the light-hued mass of palaces and embankments.ö¥¤¢ºÃ²Ö¢¥¤¤è�åç¤