At the beginning of 1820 the newspapers announced the death of M. Myriel， Bishop of D——， surnamed "Monseigneur Bienvenu，" who had died in the odor of sanctity at the age of eighty-two.

The Bishop of D—— --to supply here a detail which the papers omitted-- had been blind for many years before his death， and content to be blind， as his sister was beside him.

Let us remark by the way， that to be blind and to be loved， is， in fact， one of the most strangely exquisite forms of happiness upon this earth， where nothing is complete. To have continually at one's side a woman， a daughter， a sister， a charming being， who is there because you need her and because she cannot do without you; to know that we are indispensable to a person who is necessary to us; to be able to incessantly measure one's affection by the amount of her presence which she bestows on us， and to say to ourselves， "Since she consecrates the whole of her time to me， it is because I possess the whole of her heart"; to behold her thought in lieu of her face; to be able to verify the fidelity of one being amid the eclipse of the world; to regard the rustle of a gown as the sound of wings; to hear her come and go， retire， speak， return， sing， and to think that one is the centre of these steps， of this speech; to manifest at each instant one's personal attraction; to feel one's self all the more powerful because of one's infirmity; to become in one's obscurity， and through one's obscurity， the star around which this angel gravitates，--few felicities equal this. The supreme happiness of life consists in the conviction that one is loved; loved for one's own sake--let us say rather， loved in spite of one's self; this conviction the blind man possesses. To be served in distress is to be caressed. Does he lack anything? No. One does not lose the sight when one has love. And what love! A love wholly constituted of virtue! There is no blindness where there is certainty. Soul seeks soul， gropingly， and finds it. And this soul， found and tested， is a woman. A hand sustains you; it is hers: a mouth lightly touches your brow; it is her mouth: you hear a breath very near you; it is hers. To have everything of her， from her worship to her pity， never to be left， to have that sweet weakness aiding you， to lean upon that immovable reed， to touch Providence with one's hands， and to be able to take it in one's arms，--God made tangible，--what bliss! The heart， that obscure， celestial flower， undergoes a mysterious blossoming. One would not exchange that shadow for all brightness! The angel soul is there， uninterruptedly there; if she departs， it is but to return again; she vanishes like a dream， and reappears like reality. One feels warmth approaching， and behold! she is there. One overflows with serenity， with gayety， with ecstasy; one is a radiance amid the night. And there are a thousand little cares. Nothings， which are enormous in that void. The most ineffable accents of the feminine voice employed to lull you， and supplying the vanished universe to you. One is caressed with the soul. One sees nothing， but one feels that one is adored. It is a paradise of shadows.

It was from this paradise that Monseigneur Welcome had passed to the other.

The announcement of his death was reprinted by the local journal of M. sur M. On the following day， M. Madeleine appeared clad wholly in black， and with crape on his hat.

This mourning was noticed in the town， and commented on. It seemed to throw a light on M. Madeleine's origin. It was concluded that some relationship existed between him and the venerable Bishop. "He has gone into mourning for the Bishop of D——" said the drawing-rooms; this raised M. Madeleine's credit greatly， and procured for him， instantly and at one blow， a certain consideration in the noble world of M. sur M. The microscopic Faubourg Saint-Germain of the place meditated raising the quarantine against M. Madeleine， the probable relative of a bishop. M. Madeleine perceived the advancement which he had obtained， by the more numerous courtesies of the old women and the more plentiful smiles of the young ones. One evening， a ruler in that petty great world， who was curious by right of seniority， ventured to ask him， "M. le Maire is doubtless a cousin of the late Bishop of D——?"

He said， "No， Madame."

"But，" resumed the dowager， "you are wearing mourning for him."

He replied， "It is because I was a servant in his family in my youth."

Another thing which was remarked， was， that every time that he encountered in the town a young Savoyard who was roaming about the country and seeking chimneys to sweep， the mayor had him summoned， inquired his name， and gave him money. The little Savoyards told each other about it: a great many of them passed that way.

一八二一年初，各地报纸都刊出了迪涅主教，“别号卞福汝大人”，米里哀先生逝世的消息。他是在八十二岁的高龄入圣的。

我们在此地补充各地报纸略去的一点。迪涅主教在去世以前几年双目已经失明，但是他以失明为乐，因为他有妹子在他身旁。

让我们顺便说一句，双目失明，并且为人所爱，在这一事事都不圆满的世界上，那可算是一种甘美得出奇的人生幸福。在你的身旁，经常有个和你相依为命的妇人、姑娘、姊妹、可爱的人儿，知道自己对她是决不可少的，而她对自己也是非有不可的，能经常在她和你相处时间的长短上去推测她的感情，并且能向自己说：“她既然把她的全部时间用在我身上，就足以说明我占有了她整个的心”；不能看见她的面目，但能了解她的思想；在与世隔绝的生活中，体会到一个人儿的忠实；感到衣裙的摇曳，如同小鸟振翅的声音；听她来往、进出、说话、歌唱，并且想到自己是这种足音、这些话、这支歌的中心；不时表示自己的愉快，觉得自己越残缺，便越强大；在那种黑暗中，并正因为那种黑暗，自己成了这安琪儿归宿的星球；人生的乐事很少能与此相比。人生至高的幸福，便是感到自己有人爱；有人为你是这个样子而爱你，更进一步说，有人不问你是什么样子而仍旧一心爱你，那种感觉，盲人才有。在那种痛苦中，有人服侍，便是有人抚爱。他还缺少什么呢？不缺少什么。有了爱便说不上失明。并且这是何等的爱！完全是高尚品质构成的爱。有平安的地方便没有瞽瞢。一颗心摸索着在寻求另一颗心，并且得到了它。况且那颗得到了也证实了的心还是一个妇人的心。一只手扶着你，那是她的手；一只嘴拂着你的额头，那是她的嘴；在紧靠着你身旁的地方，你听到一种呼吸的声音，那声音也是她。得到她的一切，从她的信仰直到她的同情，从不和她分离，得到那种柔弱力量的援助，倚仗那根不屈不挠的芦草，亲手触到神明，并且可以把神明抱在怀里，有血有肉的上帝，那是何等的幸福！这颗心，这朵奥妙的仙花，那么神秘地开放了。即令以重见光明作代价，我们也不肯牺牲这朵花的影子。那天使的灵魂便在身旁，时时在身旁；假使她走开，也是为了再转来而走开的；她和梦一样地消失，又和实际一样地重行出现；我们觉得一阵暖气逼近身旁，这就是她来了。我们有说不尽的谧静、愉快和叹赏，我们自己便是黑暗中的光辉。还有万千种无微不至的照顾，许多小事在空虚中便具有重大意义。那种不可磨灭的女性的语声既可以催你入睡，又可以为你代替那失去了的宇宙。你受到了灵魂的爱抚。你什么也瞧不见，但是你感到了她的爱护。这是黑暗中的天堂。

卞福汝主教便是从这个天堂渡到那个天堂去的。

他的噩耗被滨海蒙特勒伊的地方报纸转载出来了。第二天，马德兰先生穿了一身全黑的衣服，帽子上戴了黑纱。

城里的人都注意到他的丧服，议论纷纷。这仿佛多少可以暗示出一点关于马德兰先生的来历。大家得出结论，认为他和这位年高德劭的主教有些瓜葛。那些客厅里的人都说“他为迪涅的主教穿孝”，这就大大提高了马德兰先生的身份，他一举而立即获得滨海蒙特勒伊高贵社会的某种器重。那地方的一个小型的圣日耳曼郊区①想取消从前对马德兰先生的歧视，因为他很可能是那主教的亲戚。从此年老的妇人都对他行更多的屈膝大礼，年少的女子也对他露出更多的笑容，马德兰先生也看出了自己在这些方面的优越地位。一天晚上，那个小小的大交际社会中的一个老妇人，自以为资格老，就有管闲事的权利，不揣冒亲吧？”

①巴黎附近的圣日耳曼郊区是贵族居住的地方。

他说：“不是的，夫人。”

“但是您不是为他穿丧服吗？”那老寡妇又说。

他回答说：“那是因为我幼年时曾在他家里当过仆人。”

还有一件大家知道的事。每次有通烟囱的流浪少年打那城里经过时，市长先生总要派人叫他来，问他姓名，给他钱。这一情况在那些通烟囱的孩子们里一经传开以后，许多通烟囱的孩子便都要走过那地方。