茶花女

內(nèi)容概要

主人公瑪格麗特本是一位貧窮的鄉(xiāng)下姑娘，為謀生來(lái)到巴黎，不幸落入風(fēng)塵，做了妓女，染上了揮霍錢(qián)財(cái)?shù)膼毫?xí)，她瘋狂地尋歡作樂(lè)麻痹自己，但內(nèi)心卻討厭這種空虛的生活。這個(gè)依舊保持著純潔心靈的淪落女子，向往真正的愛(ài)情生活，后來(lái)被阿爾芒的一片赤誠(chéng)之心所感動(dòng)，彼此深深地相愛(ài)，在遠(yuǎn)離巴黎市區(qū)的鄉(xiāng)間過(guò)起美滿(mǎn)的田園生活?，敻覃愄厥艿絼?chuàng)傷的心靈也開(kāi)始愈合，并決心徹底改掉過(guò)去的習(xí)慣，永遠(yuǎn)和阿爾芒在一起，享受一個(gè)正常女人的真正生活。不幸阿爾芒父親的出現(xiàn)粉碎了她的美夢(mèng)，他的虛偽、自私再一次把瑪格麗特推入災(zāi)難之中。他被迫離開(kāi)了阿爾芒，事后遭到阿爾芒不明真相的種種侮辱和傷害，終因心力交瘁，飲恨黃泉……

作者簡(jiǎn)介

　　小仲馬（Alexandre Dumas fils ），(1824 ～ 1895) 法國(guó)小說(shuō)家、戲劇家。著名作家大仲馬的私生子。 7 歲時(shí)大仲馬才認(rèn)其為子 , 但仍拒不認(rèn)其母為妻。私生子的身世使小仲馬在童年和少年時(shí)代受盡世人的譏誚。成年后痛感法國(guó)資本主義社會(huì)的淫靡之風(fēng)造成許多像他們母子這樣的

章節(jié)摘錄

　　We could go on quoting the initials of many of those who had gathered in that drawing-room and who were not a little astonished at the company they kept； but we should， we fear， weary the reader.　　Suffice it to say that everyone was in the highest spirits and that， of all the women there， many had known the dead girl and gave no sign that they remembered her. There was much loud laughter； the auctioneers shouted at the tops of their voices； the dealers who had crowded on to the benches placed in front of the auction tables called vainly for silence in which to conduct their business in peace. Never was a gathering more varied and more uproarious.　　I slipped unobtrusively into the middle of the distressing tumult， saddened to think that all this was taking place next to the very room where the unfortunate creature whose furniture was being sold up to pay her debts， had breathed her last. Having come to observe rather than to buy， I watched the faces of the tradesmen who had forced the sale and whose features lit up each time an item reached a price they had never dared hope for.　　Honest men all， who had speculated in the prostitution of this woman， had obtained a one-hundred per cent return on her， had dogged the last moments of her life with writs， and came after she was dead to claim both the fruits of their honourable calculations and the interest accruing on the shameful credit they had given her.　　How right were the Ancients who had one God for merchants and thieves ！ Dresses， Indian shawls， jewels， came under the hammer at an unbelievable rate. None of it took my fancy， and I waited on.　　Suddenly I heard a voice shout：‘A book， fully bound， gilt-edges， entitled： Manon Lescaut. There's something written on the first page： ten francs. '　　‘Twelve，' said a voice， after a longish silence.　　‘ Fifteen， ' I said.　　Why？ I had no idea. No doubt for that‘something written' .　　‘ Fifteen，' repeated the auctioneer . ‘Thity，' said the first bidder， in a tone which seemed to defy any-body to go higher. It was becoming a fight.　　‘Thirty-five！ ' I cried， in the same tone of voice.　　‘ Forty .'　　‘Fifty .'　　‘Sixty .'　　‘A hundred.'　　I confess that if I had set out to cause a stir， I would have succeeded completely， for my last bid was followed by a great silence， and people stared at me to see who this man was who seemed so intent on possessing the volume.　　Apparently the tone in which I had made my latest bid was enough for my opponent： he chose therefore to abandon a struggle which would have served only to cost me ten times what the book was worth and， with a bow， he said very graciously but a little late：　　‘It's yours， sir. '　　No other bids were forthcoming， and the book was knocked down to me .　　Since I feared a new onset of obstinacy which my vanity might conceivably have borne but which would have assuredly proved too much for my purse ， I gave my name， asked for the volume to be put aside and left by the stairs. I must have greatly intrigued the onlookers who， having witnessed this scene， doubtless wondered why on earth I had gone there to pay a hundred francs for a book that I could have got anywhere for ten or fifteen at most.　　An hour later， I had sent found for my purchase. On the first page， written in ink in an elegant hand， was the dedication of the person who had given the book. This dedication consisted simply of these words： 　　‘Manon to Marguerite， Humility. '　　It was signed： Armand Duval.　　What did this word‘Humility' mean？　　Was it that Manon， in the opinion of this Monsieur Armand Duval， acknowledged Marguerite as her superior in debauchery or in true love？　　The second interpretation seemed the more likely， for the first was impertinently frank， and Marguerite could never have accepted it， whatever opinion she had of herself.　　I went out again and thought no more of the book until that night， when I retired to bed.　　Manon Lescaut is a truly touching story every detail of which is familiar to me and yet， whenever I hold a copy in my hand， an instinctive feeling for it draws me on* I open it and for the hundredth time I live again with the abbe Prevost's heroine . Now， his heroine is so lifelike that I feel that I have met her. In my new circumstances， the kind of comparison drawn between her and Marguerite added an unexpected edge to my reading， and my forbearance was swelled with pity， almost love， for the poor girl， the disposal of whose estate I could thank for possessing the volume. Manon died in a desert， it is true， but in the terms of the man who loved her with all the strength of his soul and who， when she was dead， dug a grave for her， watered it with his tears and buried his heart with her； whereas Marguerite， a sinner like Manon， and perhaps as truly converted as she， had died surrounded by fabulous luxury， if I could believe what I had seen， on the bed of her own past， but no less lost in the desert of the heart which is much more arid， much vaster and far more pitiless than the one in which Manon had been interred.　　……

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