What did the agent say? Why, it was curious enough to hear, but there was malice and satire in it.
"It looked dark enough up there," said the agent; "but then the magic business began- a great performance, 'The Judgment in the Theatre.' The box-keepers were at their posts, and every spectator had to show his ghostly pass-book, that it might be decided if he was to be admitted with hands loose or bound, and with or without a muzzle. Grand people who came too late, when the performance had begun, and young people, who could not always watch the time, were tied up outside, and had list slippers put on their feet, with which they were allowed to go in before the beginning of the next act, and they had muzzles too. And then the 'Judgment on the Stage' began."
"All malice, and not a bit of truth in it," said our aunt.
The painter, who wanted to get to Paradise, had to go up a staircase which he had himself painted, but which no man could mount. That was to expiate his sins against perspective. All the plants and buildings, which the property-man had placed, with infinite pains, in countries to which they did not belong, the poor fellow was obliged to put in their right places before cockcrow, if he wanted to get into Paradise. Let Herr Fabs see how he would get in himself; but what he said of the performers, tragedians and comedians, singers and dancers, that was the most rascally of all. Mr. Fabs, indeed!- Flabs! He did not deserve to be admitted at all, and our aunt would not soil her lips with what he said. And he said, did Flabs, that the whole was written down, and it should be printed when he was dead and buried, but not before, for he would not risk having his arms and legs broken.
Once our aunt had been in fear and trembling in her temple of happiness, the theatre. It was on a winter day, one of those days in which one has a couple of hours of daylight, with a gray sky. It was terribly cold and snowy, but aunt must go to the theatre. A little opera and a great ballet were performed, and a prologue and an epilogue into the bargain; and that would last till late at night. Our aunt must needs go; so she borrowed a pair of fur boots of her lodger- boots with fur inside and out, and which reached far up her legs.
She got to the theatre, and to her box; the boots were warm, and she kept them on. Suddenly there was a cry of "Fire!" Smoke was coming from one of the side scenes, and streamed down from the flies, and there was a terrible panic. The people came rushing out, and our aunt was the last in the box, "on the second tier, left-hand side, for from there the scenery looks best," she used to say. "The scenes are always arranged that they look best from the King's side." Aunt wanted to come out, but the people before her, in their fright and heedlessness, slammed the door of the box; and there sat our aunt, and couldn't get out, and couldn't get in; that is to say, she couldn't get into the next box, for the partition was too high for her. She called out, and no one heard her; she looked down into the tier of boxes below her, and it was empty, and low, and looked quite near, and aunt in her terror felt quite young and light. She thought of jumping down, and had got one leg over the partition, the other resting on the bench. There she sat astride, as if on horseback, well wrapped up in her flowered cloak with one leg hanging out- a leg in a tremendous fur boot. That was a sight to behold; and when it was beheld, our aunt was heard too, and was saved from burning, for the theatre was not burned down.
That was the most memorable evening of her life, and she was glad that she could not see herself, for she would have died with confusion.
Her benefactor in the machinery department, Herr Sivertsen, visited her every Sunday, but it was a long timefrom Sunday to Sunday. In the latter time, therefore, she used to have in a little child "for the scraps;" that is to say, to eat up the remains of the dinner. It was a child employed in the ballet, one that certainly wanted feeding. The little one used to appear, sometimes as an elf, sometimes as a page; the most difficult part she had to play was the lion's hind leg in the "Magic Flute;" but as she grew larger she could represent the fore-feet of the lion. She certainly only got half a guilder for that, whereas the hind legs were paid for with a whole guilder; but then she had to walk bent, and to do without fresh air. "That was all very interesting to hear," said our aunt.
She deserved to live as long as the theatre stood, but she could not last so long; and she did not die in the theatre, but respectably in her bed. Her last words were, moreover, not without meaning. She asked,
"What will the play be to-morrow?"
At her death she left about five hundred dollars. We presume this from the interest, which came to twenty dollars. This our aunt had destined as a legacy for a worthy old spinster who had no friends; it was to be devoted to a yearly subscription for a place in the second tier, on the left side, for the Saturday evening, "for on that evening two pieces were always given," it said in the will; and the only condition laid upon the person who enjoyed the legacy was, that she should think, every Saturday evening, of our aunt, who was lying in her grave.
This was our aunt's religion.
姑妈
你应该认识姑妈!她这个人才可爱呢!这也就是说，她的可爱并不像我们平时所说的那种可爱。她和蔼可亲，有自己的一种滑稽味儿。如果一个人想聊聊闲天、开开什么人的玩笑，那么她就可以成为谈笑的资料。她可以成为戏里的角色;这是因为她只是为戏院和与戏院有关的一切而活着的缘故。她是一个非常有身份的人。但是经纪人法布——姑妈把他念作佛拉布——却说她是一个“戏迷”。
“戏院就是我的学校，”她说，“是我的知识的源泉。我在这儿重新温习《圣经》的历史：摩西啦，约瑟和他的弟兄们啦，都成了歌剧!我在戏院里学到世界史、地理和关于人类的知识!我从法国戏中知道了巴黎的生活——很不正经，但是非常有趣!我为《李格堡家庭》这出戏流了不知多少眼泪：想想看，一个丈夫为了使他的妻子得到她的年轻的爱人，居然喝酒喝得醉死了!是的，这50年来我成了戏院的一个老主顾;在这期间，我不知流了多少眼泪!”
姑妈知道每出戏、每一场情节、每一个要出场或已经出过场的人物。她只是为那演戏的九个月而活着。夏天是没有戏上演的——这段时间使她变得衰老。晚间的戏如果能演到半夜以后，那就等于是把她的生命延长。她不像别人那样说：“春天来了，鹳鸟来了!”或者：“报上说草莓已经上市了!”相反，关于秋天的到来，她总喜欢说：“你没有看到戏院开始卖票了吗?戏快要上演了呀!”
在她看来，一幢房子是否有价值，完全要看它离戏院的远近而定。当她不得不从戏院后边的一个小巷子迁到一条比较远一点的大街上，住进一幢对面没有街坊的房子里去的时候，她真是难过极了。
“我的窗子就应该是我的包厢!你不能老是在家里坐着想自己的事情呀。你应该看看人。不过我现在的生活就好像我是住在老远的乡下似的。如果我要想看看人，我就得走进厨房，爬到洗碗槽上去。只有这样我才能看到对面的邻居。当我还住在我那个小巷子里的时候，我可以直接望见那个卖麻商人的店里的情景，而且只需走三百步路就可以到戏院。现在我可得走三千大步了。”
姑妈有时也生病。但是不管她怎样不舒服，她决不会不看戏的。她的医生开了一个单子，叫她晚上在脚上敷些药。她遵照医生的话办了，但是她却喊车子到戏院去，带着她脚上敷的药坐在那儿看戏。如果她坐在那儿死去了，那对她说来倒是很幸福的呢。多瓦尔生①就是在戏院里死去的——她把这叫做“幸福之死”。
天国里如果没有戏院，对她说来是不可想象的。我们当然是不会走进天国的。但是我们可以想象得到，过去死去了的名男演员和女演员，一定还是在那里继续他们的事业的。
姑妈在她的房间里安了一条私人电线，直通到戏院。她在每天吃咖啡的时候就接到一个“电报”。她的电线就是舞台装置部的西凡尔生先生。凡是布景或撤销布景，幕启或幕落，都是由此人来发号施令的。