巴尔扎克《无名的杰作》(英译本)
nto your beloved again and again in your in your picture been touc;
quot;But , dear master?quot; Porbus asked respectfully, o beat tic.
quot;A; said t;it is ted beted bettention to detail, tiff precision of ters and talian painters. You yourself to imitate itian, Albrecure. A magnificent ambition truly, but alian _citians rico Albrecere outlines tered ten bronze bursting t is not strong enougo . In otlines , gloian color. t perfect, t perfect; traces of t unlucky indecision are to be seen everyrong enougo fuse t in your lot boldly ained ty ions of life itself. Your rue in tres; your outlines are false, t not of anytrut; said ting to t of t, quot;and again ; on, indicating t;But t; once more returning to t, quot;everyt us go no furto detail, you ;
t doool, and remained a h his face buried in his hands.
quot;Yet I studied t t from ter,quot; Porbus began; quot;it imes, for our misfortune, t real effects in nature look improbable o canvas--quot;
quot;t is not to copy nature, but to express it. You are not a servile copyist, but a poet!quot; cried tting Porbus s ure. quot;Otor miger cast of a living ry to make a cast of your mistresss up trosity, a dead mass, bearing no resemblance to to o tor copy, for you its movement and its life. e must detect t, ts! are effects but ts of life, not life itself? A aken t example, is not only a part of a body, it is tension of a t t must be grasped and rendered. Neiter nor poet nor sculptor may separat