\u00c0 LA PETRA CAMARA<\/p>\n
Nodier raconte qu\u2019en Espagne
\nTrois officiers cherchant, un soir,
\nUne venta dans la campagne,
\nNe trouv\u00e8rent qu\u2019un vieux manoir ;<\/p>\n
Un vrai ch\u00e2teau d\u2019Anne Radcliffe,
\nAux plafonds que le temps ploya,
\nAux vitraux ray\u00e9s par la griffe
\nDes chauves-souris de Goya,<\/p>\n
Aux vastes salles d\u00e9labr\u00e9es,
\nAux couloirs livrant leur secret,
\nArchitectures effondr\u00e9es
\nO\u00f9 Piran\u00e8se se perdrait.<\/p>\n
Pendant le souper, que regarde
\nUne collection d\u2019a\u00efeux
\nDans leurs cadres montant la garde,
\nUn cri r\u00e9pond aux chants joyeux ;<\/p>\n
D\u2019un long corridor en d\u00e9combres,
\nPar la lune bizarrement
\nEntrecoup\u00e9 de clairs et d\u2019ombres,
\nD\u00e9busque un fant\u00f4me charmant ;<\/p>\n
Peigne au chignon, basquine aux hanches,
\nUne femme accourt en dansant,
\nDans les bandes noires et blanches
\nApparaissant, disparaissant.<\/p>\n
Avec une volupt\u00e9 morte,
\nCambrant les reins, penchant le cou,
\nElle s\u2019arr\u00eate sur la porte,
\nSinistre et belle \u00e0 rendre fou.<\/p>\n
Sa robe, pass\u00e9e et frip\u00e9e
\nAu froid humide des tombeaux,
\nFait luire, d\u2019un rayon frapp\u00e9e,
\nQuelques paillons sur ses lambeaux ;<\/p>\n
D\u2019un p\u00e9tale d\u00e9couronn\u00e9e
\n\u00c0 chaque soubresaut nerveux,
\nSa rose, jaunie et fan\u00e9e,
\nS\u2019effeuille dans ses noirs cheveux.<\/p>\n
Une cicatrice, pareille
\n\u00c0 celle d\u2019un coup de poignard,
\nForme une couture vermeille
\nSur sa gorge d\u2019un ton blafard ;<\/p>\n
Et ses mains p\u00e2les et fluettes
\nAu nez des soupeurs pleins d\u2019effroi
\nEntre-choquent les castagnettes,
\nComme des dents claquant de froid.<\/p>\n
Elle danse, morne bacchante,
\nLa cachucha sur un vieil air,
\nD\u2019une gr\u00e2ce si provocante,
\nQu\u2019on la suivrait m\u00eame en enfer.<\/p>\n
Ses cils palpitent sur ses joues
\nComme des ailes d\u2019oiseau noir,
\nEt sa bouche arqu\u00e9e a des moues
\n\u00c0 mettre un saint au d\u00e9sespoir.<\/p>\n
Quand de sa jupe qui tournoie
\nElle soul\u00e8ve le volant,
\nSa jambe, sous le bas de soie,
\nPrend des lueurs de marbre blanc.<\/p>\n
Elle se penche jusqu\u2019\u00e0 terre,
\nEt sa main, d\u2019un geste coquet,
\nComme on fait des fleurs d\u2019un parterre,
\nGroupe les d\u00e9sirs en bouquet.<\/p>\n
Est-ce un fant\u00f4me ? est-ce une femme ?
\nUn r\u00eave, une r\u00e9alit\u00e9,
\nQui scintille comme une flamme
\nDans un tourbillon de beaut\u00e9 ?<\/p>\n
Cette apparition fantasque,
\nC\u2019est l\u2019Espagne du temps pass\u00e9,
\nAux frissons du tambour de Basque
\nS\u2019\u00e9lan\u00e7ant de son lit glac\u00e9,<\/p>\n
Et, brusquement ressuscit\u00e9e
\nDans un supr\u00eame bol\u00e9ro,
\nMontrant sous sa jupe argent\u00e9e
\nLa divisa prise au taureau.<\/p>\n
La cicatrice qu\u2019elle porte,
\nC\u2019est le coup de gr\u00e2ce donn\u00e9
\n\u00c0 la g\u00e9n\u00e9ration morte
\nPar chaque si\u00e8cle nouveau-n\u00e9.<\/p>\n
J\u2019ai vu ce fant\u00f4me au Gymnase,
\nO\u00f9 Paris entier l\u2019admira,
\nLorsque dans son linceul de gaze
\nParut la Petra Camara,<\/p>\n
Impassible et passionn\u00e9e,
\nFermant ses yeux morts de langueur,
\nEt comme In\u00e8s l\u2019assassin\u00e9e
\nDansant, un poignard dans le c\u0153ur !<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[647],"poems-book":[648],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[614],"class_list":["post-13853","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-647","poems-book-emaux-et-camees","poete-theophile-gautier"],"yoast_head":"\n