Bel was cool and cynical2 outwardly, but was really perplexed3 as to what ought to be done. With all her faults she had a sincere affection for her friend, and was shrewd enough to perceive that this affair with Hemstead promised to be more serious than Lottie's passing penchants had been previously4. But with her usual weakness and irresolution5 she hesitated and waited, Micawber-like, to see what would "turn up."
The impression grew on Mrs. Marchmont that Lottie was fascinating her nephew; and yet just how to interfere6 she did not see. It was rather delicate business to speak, with nothing more tangible7 than what she had yet seen. That Lottie herself was becoming sincerely attached to a young man of Frank's calling and prospects8, could not occur to a lady of Mrs. Marchmont's ideas of propriety9 and the fitness of things. It was only Lottie's "inveterate10 disposition11 to flirt12." As to Lottie's "moods and emotions," she smiled at them with cool indifference13, as far as she noticed them at all. "Young people pass through such phases as through the measles," she was accustomed to say.
Addie was too much wrapped up in herself to think particularly about others.
Save by queer little chuckling14 laughs, which no one understood, Mr.
Dimmerly gave no sign that he noted15 any thing unusual going on.
Besides, Lottie was very circumspect16 when in the presence of others, and Hemstead unconsciously followed the suggestion of her manner. Thus even lynx-eyed Bel could seldom lay her finger on any thing and say, "Here is something conclusive17."
But if ever there was an earthly elysium, Hemstead and Lottie dwelt in it during the remainder of that week. Not that they were much together, or had much to say to each other by word of mouth. Scarcely another opportunity occurred for one of their momentous18 private talks, for De Forrest's vigilance had become sleepless indeed.
Besides, Hemstead was shut up in his room most of the time, engaged on another sermon. For Dr. Beams was ill, and the student had been asked to preach again. He gladly complied with the request, for he was most anxious to correct the dreary20 impression he had made on the previous Sabbath. Lottie, too, was much in her room, at work on something which no one was permitted to see. But little was thought of this, for the house was full of the mystery that always prevails just before Christmas. Every one was cherishing innocent, and often transparent21, little secrets, which were soon to be proclaimed, if not on the "house-top," on the tree-top of the fragrant22 cedar23 that had already been selected and arranged in the back parlor24, suggesting to all the blessedness of both giving and receiving.
Yet, while seemingly separated, what moment passed when they were not together? How vain was De Forrest's vigilance!—how futile25 were Mrs. Marchmont's precautions! Lottie was the muse26 that sat at Hemstead's side; and every time he lifted his eyes from the paper his vivid fancy saw her face glowing like the sunset, and beaming upon him. She inspired his sermon. Unconsciously, he wrote it for her alone, letting her need and spiritual state color the line of thought which his text naturally suggested; and a fresh, hope-imparting Christmas sermon it promised to be,—a veritable gospel. He was unconsciously learning the priceless advantage to a clergyman of pastoral visitation; for, in discovering and meeting the needs of one heart, nearly all are touched,—so near a kinship exists throughout humanity.
As Lottie stitched away at an odd bit of fancy-work—very different from any thing that had ever taxed her dainty skill before—strange gleams flitted across her face. At times her eyes would sparkle with mirth as she lived over scenes in which the student was ever the chief actor; and again she would grow pale, and her breath come quick and short, as her fancy portrayed27 him—when in the darkness he could not have been seen by human eyes—far out amid the ice upon the river. Then again her face would grow comically pitiful, as she murmured: "I could have brought him to quicker than uncle. I could have given him a stimulant28 more potent29 than the forty-year-old brandy of which uncle is so proud. I've found out my power over him."
Then her face would light up with exultation30 as she exclaimed, "O, it's grand to have such power over a strong, richly-endowed man,—to be able to move and play upon him at your will by some mystic influence too subtile for prying31 eyes to see. I can lift him into the skies by a smile. I can cast him into the depths by a frown. If I but touch his hand, the giant trembles. He would be a Hercules in my service, and yet I've got him just there"; and she depressed32 her little thumb with the confidence of a Roman empress desiring to show favor to some gladiatorial slave.
Then her face would change in quick and piquant33 transition to the expression of equally comic distress34, as she sighed, "But, alas35! where am I? Right under his big thumb, whether he knows it or not. How it all will end I dare not think."
When her jewelled watch indicated that the time for dinner or supper was near, she would make the most bewitching of toilets, and laugh at herself for doing so, querying36, "What is the use of conquering one over and over again who is already helpless at your feet?"
And yet the admiration37 of Hemstead's beauty-loving eyes was sweeter incense38 than all the flattery she had ever received before.
And what hours of dainty, ethereal banqueting were those prosaic39 meals in Mrs. Marchmont's dining-room! The corpulent colored waiter served the others, but airy-winged love attended these two, bearing from one to the other glances, tones, accents, of the divinest flavor.
De Forrest noted and chafed40 over this subtile interchange. Bel and Mrs. Marchmont saw it also, and Mr. Dimmerly's queer chuckling laugh was heard with increasing frequency. But what could be done? Lottie's and Hemstead's actions were propriety itself. Mrs. Marchmont could not say, "You must not look at or speak to each other." As well seek to prevent two clouds in a summer sky from exchanging their lightnings!
Hemstead was in a maze41. The past and the future had lost their existence to him, and he was living in the glorified42 present. He no more coolly realized the situation than would one in an ecstatic trance. In one sense he verified the popular superstition43, and was bewitched; and, with the charming witch ever near to weave a new spell a dozen times a day, how could he disentangle himself? He was too innocent, too unhackneyed, to understand what was going on in his own heart.
The days and the hours fled away until Saturday—the day before
Christmas—came. By noon Hemstead had finished his sermon, and
Lottie had completed her mysterious fancy-work; and both were ready
for the festivities of Christmas eve.
Mr. Dimmerly was a great stickler44 for the old English customs, and always had the yule-log brought in with great ceremony. With his own hands he suspended the mistletoe from the chandelier in the hall, which he always obtained from Dimmerly Manor45 in England. Lottie, without thinking, stood beneath, watching him, when, with a spryness not in keeping with his years, he sprang down and gave her a sounding smack46 in honor of the ancient custom.
"There," said he, "that pays me for all my trouble and expense. But you will get another kiss here, that you will like better, before I take the mistletoe down."
"Well, uncle," said Lottie, laughing and rubbing her tingling47 cheek, "I hope it won't be such an explosion as yours was, or it will alarm the household."
"Be careful, or it may attract more attention than mine"; and he departed with his queer chuckling laugh.
Lottie looked after him with sudden intelligence, and asked herself,
"Now what does he mean by that? Does he suspect anything?"
At the dinner-table Mr. Dimmerly indulged in a long homily on the importance of keeping up old customs, and ended with a sly, significant glance at Lottie, which brought the color into her face. But during the afternoon she foiled all the devices of De Forrest to get her under the mistletoe bough48, and yet with such grace that, however disappointed, he could not become angry. As for Hemstead, he was fat too diffident to attempt any such strategy, much as he would have liked to solemnize the venerable rite49.
And so at last Christmas eve came; and with it a few guests. Harcourt and Miss Martell had been specially50 invited; for the fact of their engagement had become known at once, and Mrs. Marchmont hastened to assure them, by this invitation, that she had no regrets or resentment51. Not for the world would she have Miss Martell imagine that any maternal52 projects had been frustrated53.
Harcourt, grateful for all the kindness he had received at Mrs. Marchmont's, induced Alice to accept; and so their illumined faces were added to the circle that gathered around the yule-log in the large dining-room, that had been cleared for games and dancing.
In spite of the incongruous elements composing that circle, it made, with the crackling fire playing on happy faces and Christmas decorations, a pretty picture,—one that might convert a pagan into willingness to honor the chief Christian54 festival.
After some old-fashioned country dances—through which even Hemstead had been induced to blunder, to Lottie's infinite delight—they sat down to nuts, apples, and cider. Billets of hickory were piled higher than ever against the great yule-log; and never did the sacred flame light up fairer and happier faces than those of Alice Martell and Lottie Marsden. And yet they were as different as could be. One was the lily, and the other the rose. Harcourt and Hemstead also looked as if some angelic messenger had brought them "tidings of great joy."
Harcourt and Alice sat together; but Lottie, with seeming perverseness55, got as far away as possible. But it was only seeming, for she sat where she could look Hemstead full in the face, and, with her brilliant eyes, indulge in love's mystic telegraphy without restraint.
Now was the time for Mr. Dimmerly to shine out; and he proposed that some one should begin a story, and carry it forward to a certain point, then stop abruptly56, while some one else took it up for a brief time, when, in like manner, it would again be dropped that another might continue it, so that each one who was willing might have a chance to contribute.
"You commence, Mr. Harcourt," said Mr. Dimmerly.
After a preface of hemming57, the young man said: "Once upon a time, in a village in the south of France, it was arranged that there should be a general fete and dance on the village green the afternoon before Christmas. Little Ninon was a peasant's daughter, and she was only fourteen. If she were petite, she was also piquant and pretty—"
"Very good, very good," cried a chorus of voices; and a round of applause stimulated58 the narrator.
"Until this occasion, Ninon had always been kept at home as a child; but, after interminable coaxings, she obtained her mother's permission to go to the fete. Now her mother was a widow, and it so happened that she could not go with her daughter, and after she had given her consent had not one whom she could send with her child as a protector. But Ninon was in such glee that her mother had not the heart to take back her promise.
"'Now, mother, tell me what shall I say when the boys, and perhaps some of the very young men, ask me to dance with them?'
"'Say, I'm only a little child who have come to see. Go thy ways.'
"'But suppose they don't go their ways,' pouted59 Ninon.
"'Go thine then, and come home.'
"'Now, mother dear, am I not almost old enough to have a lover?'
"'Lover indeed! Silly child, but yesterday I rocked thee in the cradle there. I'm a fool to let thee go.'
"Then Ninon, in fear, kept still, lest her mother should change her mind, a thing which women sometimes do, even in France—"
"Now I protest against innuendoes," cried Lottie. "It is the
Frenchman, as it is man all over the world, who changes his mind.
Adam first said he wouldn't eat the apple, and then he did!"
"Where's your authority for that?" said Harcourt.
"It's in the Bible," answered Lottie, stoutly60; at which there was a great explosion.
"Miss Marsden equals modern commentators61 in amplifying62 the text," laughed Hemstead.
"Well," persisted Lottie, "if it isn't just so written, I know enough of human nature to be sure that that was just how it happened."
"On with the story!" cried Mr. Dimmerly. "Come, Miss Martell."
"The afternoon of the fete came," said Alice, "and Ninon's mother was depressed with a boding63 of evil.
"'Whom shall I send with thee, my child? My heart fails me in sending thee alone.'
"'Little brother Pierre shall go with me,' said Ninon. 'He's an odd child, and talks to the saints and angels more than to us. If he goes with me, the saints will take care of us both.'
"This seemed to strike the mother as true, and she was comforted; and the pale little boy, with large, spiritual eyes that appeared to look into the other world, took his sister's hand without even a smile flitting across his sad face; and they started for the fete.
"Now, Miss Marchmont," said Miss Martell, with a graceful64 inclination65 to Addie.
"And the pale little boy, with big, owl-like eyes," continued Addie, flippantly, "stalked along as if going to a funeral, while Ninon tripped and danced at his side. But soon the young girl's steps grew slower and slower, and her face thoughtful, and she began to question her mother's words,—that she was too much of a child to have a lover; and by the time she reached the village green she gave her pretty head a toss as she said, 'We'll see about this. Mother doesn't know everything.'"
"Now, Bel."
"But poor little Ninon," said Bel, "soon became sadly bewildered, for there were so many people all talking at once, and they pushed against and jostled her as if she were very small and insignificant66 indeed, and she began to think that her mother was right, and that she was only a child; and she grew frightened and wished herself at home again. But she kept fast hold of the hand of her brother whom the saints loved, and felt that as long as he was with her she was safe. Finally they were pushed and jostled to a quiet nook on the edge of the green, under a tree, and here they sat down. Soon the dancing commenced, and Ninon amused herself by criticising the people and making remarks to her brother about their dress and manner. But he did not seem to hear her, and his eyes were fixed67 on the sky, as if he saw more that was wonderful there than she upon the village green."
"Mr. De Forrest, you next."
"But as Ninon sat there smiling and talking more to herself than to her queer little brother, who didn't listen, the young men began to notice her, and to nudge each other and ask who she was; for in truth she reminded every one of a half-blown rose. But no one knew who she was, and no one had ever seen her before. Then the handsomest young man in the village—indeed he was the one at whom all the girls were setting their caps—stepped forward and took a deliberate survey, and soon was convinced that, among all the village maidens69, there was not a face as fair as Ninon's. And while he looked at her Ninon from under her long lashes70 as intently watched him. At last the young man made up his mind, and said to himself, 'I will be her lover for this afternoon,' and in a manner that was the very embodiment of grace, he stepped up to her and said, 'My pretty maiden68, wilt71 dance with me?'"
And De Forrest bowed to Lottie to continue. It was strange how the foolish little story was gaining the breathless interest of all present—all the more because each one was unconsciously coloring his bit of the mosaic72 with his own individuality. Lottie's manner by no means tended to allay73 this interest as she began her part of the impromptu74 tale. She was a natural actress, and, for the moment, became little Ninon. The scene had grown actual to her vivid fancy, and by some process that cannot be explained she impressed it upon the minds of the others as real. They saw the crowded village green, the petite maiden and her weird75 brother sitting upon its edge, as she began.
"And Ninon shyly raised her dark eyes to the face of the handsomest young man of all the village, at whom the girls were setting their caps, and said, a trifle coldly, 'I am only a little child who has come to see. Go thy ways.'
"And the handsome young man stalked away, haughty76 and offended; and the youth of the village nudged each other and smiled and wondered and said, 'She must be a princess in disguise, or she would dance with him whom all the girls covet77.' So no one else would venture to speak to her. But Ninon for a while was content to be left alone to watch all the funny people and their funny ways. She didn't see any one with whom she wanted to dance.
"At last she became conscious that one who seemed a stranger like herself was watching her, and she began to look curiously78 at him. At first she did not like his looks at all, His dress was very plain,—not a bit smart and gay like that of the other young men. Besides, he was so tall and grave; and once, when some one said a rude word to him, his eyes were so fiery79 that Ninon was afraid of him. But a moment later, when his eyes rested on her, they became so kind and gentle that she wondered how it could be. Then she began to grow sorry for him because, like herself, he was a stranger and had no one to talk to. But he seemed in quest of some one, for he would look all around among the people; but soon his eyes would come back and rest wistfully upon her face, as if she were the one he was looking for after all. This puzzled Ninon greatly, and she asked herself, 'Now can it be that I am the one he's looking for?' At last it seemed that the stranger wished to speak to her, but hadn't the courage, and this amused Ninon vastly. Twice he advanced, faltered80, and then retreated. Ninon was convulsed with laughter and whispered, 'O Pierre, isn't this the funniest thing that ever was in this great world? That big man there is afraid of me,—little Ninon.'
"Then she saw that he thought she was laughing at him, and that he had straightened himself up stiff and haughty and had looked the other way. But he couldn't keep looking the other way very long," Lottie said, with an indescribable air that brought out a round of applause; "and when he timidly glanced towards her again she gave him such an encouraging smile that he came at once to her side and said, 'Little sister, wilt walk with me?'
"A happy thought struck Ninon. Her mother had said she was too young to have a lover, but nothing had been said against her having another brother. So, with conscience clear, she whispered, 'Sit still here till I come back '; and the little boy sat still, looking up into the sky, while Ninon let the tall stranger take her hand and lead her away. But his eyes were so gentle and true that she lost all fear and asked, 'Why do you call me sister?'
"'Perhaps you can tell me,' he said. 'I came here an utter stranger, and I looked all around among the people, and their faces were strange, and it seemed to me that they ever would be strange; but when I saw your face you appeared to belong to me. I think we must be related.'
"'I never saw you before,' said Ninon, shaking her head.
"'I've seen you in my dreams all my life,' he replied, looking at her so earnestly that the color deepened on her cheek.
"'I never heard anything so queer in all my life,' said Ninon.
"'You have much to learn,' said the stranger.
"'Yes,' said Ninon, humbly81; 'as mother says, I'm only a little child.'
"'You are not a little child; you are a beautiful maiden, Ninon,' said the stranger, earnestly.
"'Nonsense!' she said blushingly. 'I'll never be that.' But she liked to hear him say it, nevertheless," Lottie added with an accent that again brought out a round of applause.
"I'm taking too much time," Lottie said, deprecatingly.
"Go on, go on," was the unanimous cry; and her little brother Dan, who had dropped nuts and apples and was leaning open-mouthed on her knees, said, "Lottie, if you don't go on, I'll do something dreadful."
So Lottie continued: "And the tall stranger smiled down upon her and said, 'Violets are my favorite flower, and you are a modest little violet.'
"'Now you are wrong again,' said Ninon; 'violets are a pale blue flower, and my cheeks are burning so oddly—I never had them do so before. I know I look like the peonies in the cure's garden.'
"'You look like the sweetest rose in the cure's garden.'
"'Is that the way big brothers talk to their little sisters?'
"'That is the way I talk to you, and I'm in earnest.'
"'How do little sisters treat a brother as big as you are?'
"'Well, for one thing, they kiss them.'
"'That's queer,' said Ninon, innocently. 'I should think it would be just the other way.'
"'Now I think of it, you are right,' and the stranger gave her a kiss that set every nerve tingling.
"'How odd!' she exclaimed, half-frightened, half-delighted. 'Pierre sometimes kisses me, but I never felt that way before.'
"'And big brothers take their little sisters in their arms and lift them over the rough places, as I do.'
"And he carried her over a low stone wall that separated them from a shadowy grove83.
"'O, how nice!' sighed Ninon, complacently84; 'I've always had to get over the rough places by myself before.'
"'You will no longer,' said the youth, as they passed under the low branches of a sheltering tree. 'O Ninon, as innocent as beautiful, can you not see that I am not your brother, but your lover?' and he threw himself at her feet.
"But Ninon clasped her hands in the deepest distress, and cried, 'O, why did you say that? You might have been my brother as long as you chose. But mother says I can have no lover,—that I am only a child'; and like a startled fawn85 she fled from him, and, a few moments later, panting and breathless, was sitting again beside her strange little brother, who was still looking into the sky as if he saw a vision.
"The young stranger followed sadly, thinking how he might still win her, and teach her that she was no longer a child. Ninon soon became more composed, and looked around as if she would like to see him again. As at a distance he watched her from under his bent86 eyebrows87, a happy thought struck him, and he said, 'I'll teach her that she is a woman'; and, stepping forward, he singled out a neglected village maiden, who seemed ready for a little attention from anybody, and whirled her into the dance. Ninon, to her dismay, saw the arm of her whilom brother and lover encircling another girl, while she, apparently88, was forgotten. She could scarcely believe her eyes. She looked at him fixedly89, the picture of reproach, but he never seemed to look towards her. Surprise, resentment, grief, followed each other upon her fair face, like clouds passing over a sunny landscape. At last she buried her face upon little Pierre's shoulder, and sobbed90, 'He may be my lover, or anything else, if he will only leave that hateful minx and come to me once more.'
"The tall stranger saw her drooping91 head, and quickly led his partner out of the dance and bowed himself away, leaving her bewildered,—so quickly had he come and gone.
"Ninon looked up, but he was nowhere to be seen, and the 'hateful minx' stood alone. Suddenly a voice that had grown strangely familiar said at her side, 'May I be thy lover now?'
"'Thou art false,' she said faintly.
"'Never to thee, Ninon. My thoughts were with thee every moment since thou so cruelly left me. Do you not see why I sought another maiden? I wished to teach you that you were no longer a child, but a woman. I am your lover. Your heart has already claimed me, and these jealous tears prove it.'
"'Well, then,' said Ninon, shyly smiling again, 'if my heart has gone to you, and I half believe it has, I must follow my heart'; and she put her hand in his."
Loud and long was the applause that greeted Lottie's conclusion. Dan executed a miniature breakdown92 as an expression of his feelings, and it seemed as if Mr. Dimmerly's chuckling laugh would never cease. De Forrest looked uneasy, and Hemstead was in a trance of bewildered delight. Alice and Harcourt exchanged significant glances, but upon the faces of Mrs. Marchmont and Bel were traces of disapproval93.
"Now, uncle," cried Lottie, "it's your turn. I have given you
COMEDY; we shall expect from you high tragedy."
The word "comedy," as Lottie here used it, jarred unpleasantly on Hemstead's ear, and the thought crossed Harcourt's mind, "Can she be leading Hemstead on in heartless jest, as we proposed at first? How I have changed since that day! and I was in hopes that she had, too, somewhat."
But Mr. Dimmerly had taken up the thread of the narrative94 where
Lottie had dropped it.
"Ninon," he said, "lived a long while ago, and did not properly refer the tall stranger to her mamma. A trysting place and time were agreed upon, and the mysterious stranger in green, who was apparently a forester, said that he had a deer to kill before nightfall; and, raising her hand to his lips, departed. Ninon sat a long time, lost in a maze of thought, and then, in the twilight95, roused the rapt child from his visions, and they started for their home. But villainous faces had hovered96 on the outskirts97 of the village green, and ill-omened eyes had marked the beauty of Ninon and the spiritual face of her brother. At that time there was in France a terrible monster, known as Giles de Laval, whose emissaries were ever on the alert for such victims. It was this cruel man who suggested to Perrault his world-renowned story of Barbe-bleu, the Blue-Beard that Dan there knows all about. Well, when Ninon and her little brother were passing a thicket98 but half-way home, two masked men sprang out upon them, and, stifling99 their terror-stricken cries, carried them to a distance from the highway. They then bound bandages firmly over their mouths, and lifted them on their horses and galloped100 away and away, till poor Ninon felt that she could never find her way home again, even if she had a chance. Soon the shadowy walls of a great castle rose before them, with a single light in a lofty tower. The feet of the iron-shod horses rang on the draw-bridge, which rose after them, and then Ninon knew they were prisoners. At first they were shut up in a dungeon101 that was perfectly102 dark, for their cruel jailer knew the overpowering effect of such rayless gloom. But strange little Pierre said that the place was brighter than the sun, and that lovely faces were smiling at him. Ninon, however, saw nothing, and it was dark indeed to her, and she sobbed bitterly, and called on her mother and lover for help. But only stony-hearted Laval and his accomplices103 heard her girlish voice. A bell in one of the towers slowly tolled104 out eleven o'clock. A little later the door of their cell opened, and light streamed in. Two men in hideous106 masks seized them, and carried them up and up, till Ninon, in horror, thought that they were to be thrown from the top of the tower. But worse than that awaited them; for soon they entered a large circular room, in which, on a sort of throne, sat a dreadful-looking man, clad in sable107. He had human form and features, but reminded one of the more disgusting kind of wild beasts. His eyes were small, piercing, and malignant108, but his face was large, sensual, devilish, and poor Ninon lost hope from the moment she saw him. She instinctively109 felt that to sue for mercy from such a monster would be worse than vain. She had lost hope utterly110. She and her mother had been mistaken. The saints cared for neither little Pierre nor herself, and had left them to fall into the clutches of this demon111. She glanced slowly around the room in the faint hope of escape, or even for the chance of throwing herself from a window, if it were needful, in order to escape from that horrible man. But the walls were thick. No light came from without, but only from a great furnace, that was Strangely constructed and made her shudder112. For a long time there was perfect silence in the dreadful place. The two masked men, grotesque113 and horrible, stood near the furnace, motionless as statues. The sable monster on his black throne watched them without moving a muscle in his great, coarse face, only his small eyes seemed like two scintillating114 sparks of infernal fire, as with a fiendish kind of pleasure he marked the agony of Ninon. Although the young girl instinctively gave up all hope of life, yet never had life seemed so sweet. Its homeliest details now appeared precious, and their poor little cottage, heaven, compared with this den19 of infamy115. She had just tasted the exquisite116 happiness of a new and before unknown love, and now she was to die. She thought of her mother growing gray in loneliness and grief. She thought of her lover coming eagerly to their trysting-place; but when he should come on the morrow, Christmas day, what would she be?—where would she be? and in her anguish117 she cried aloud, and, kneeling, stretched out her hands towards the sable throne.
"Then for the first time the coarse, thick lips of the monster distorted themselves into a hideous grin, but otherwise he did not move, and the awful silence continued in that chamber118 of death.
"Ninon put her hands to her face, to hide his ugly visage, and then sank down in the apathy119 of despair.
"There was nothing in Ninon's agony that disturbed Laval. Scarcely a night passed but some victim like herself writhed120 under his remorseless eyes. Their mortal fear and sufferings were his recreation before the sterner business of sorcery that followed; and the more demonstrative they were in their pain, the more highly spiced was his pleasure. At first Ninon's beautiful and expressive121 face kept his whole attention; but after a time he began to note the strange-appearing little boy who accompanied her. There was no fear in his calm, pale face. There was no dread82 in his large, spiritual eyes, that seemed to look past the monster and his thick walls to some rare vision beyond.
"'What does the little wretch122 see?' he queried123, for Laval, like his age, was very superstitious124.
"But Ninon must be goaded125 out of her apathy, or the night would be dull; so at last the thick lips open, and the awful silence is broken by more awful words:
"'Girl, thou who art to lose body and soul, look at me.'
"Slowly Ninon lifted her eyes to his brutal126 face, and gazed fixedly as some poor little bird might look into the envenomed jaws127 of a serpent. The fascination128 of fear was upon her. In a thick, guttural, monotonous129 voice, the human beast continued: 'The devil has shown me that there is a potent charm in thy young innocent heart, that there are powerful spells in thy warm young blood, and that with them I may discover untold130 wealth. When the bell tolls131 out the hour of midnight, I shall take your bleeding heart out of your living body, and the heart of your brother out of his body, that with them I may decoct an essence in yonder furnace that will transmute132 the basest metal into gold. Midnight is the hour, and at midnight you shall die. Only the spell will be far more potent if you first give yourself to the foul133 fiend. Therefore, repeat after me: 'I give my soul and body to Satan.'
"Mechanically the terror-stricken girl began: 'I give—' but little Pierre put his hand over her mouth. 'The saints forbid,' he said quietly.
"'Seize the child; tear out his staring eyes,' shouted the monster, savagely134."
Mr. Dimmerly stopped, took off his spectacles, and coolly wiped them as he said: "I'm through, and my part of the story is true. This Giles de Laval, or, as he is better known in French history, the Marshal de Retz, destroyed hundreds of children, at ages varying from eight to eighteen, and in ways far worse than I have described. So, Lottie, have you had enough of high tragedy?"
"O uncle!" she exclaimed, with a little impatient stamp of the foot, "you have told us a horrible story. It must not break off in this way, or we sha'n't sleep a wink135 to-night. Mr. Hemstead, you take up the story where uncle left off, and, if possible, complete it in a way that won't make our blood run cold."
Thus Hemstead was put upon his mettle136, and soon all present were hanging with breathless interest on his rich, well-modulated tones.
"When the monster from his sable throne uttered his merciless mandate137 to tear out the eyes of little Pierre, the two grotesque and statue-like apparitions138 sprang into life, and, snatching hot irons from the furnace, rushed towards the child. Ninon gave a shriek139 of terror, and sought to shelter the boy in her arms, crying,'Do what you will with me, but spare him.' Thus again, more truly than before by jealous tears, Ninon proved that she had become a woman."
At this sentence he was interrupted by a perfect storm of applause, in which Harcourt led off again and again. But Hemstead drew his inspiration from Lottie's face, and noted with a thrill of joy that tears stood in her eyes. This was a richer tribute than he received from all the others, and with deeper and more effective tones he continued: "But just then the great bell began to toll105 out the hour of twelve, and the demon, from his sable throne, made a restraining gesture.
"'Naught,' he said, 'must now interfere with our high magic and solemn sorcery. At the last stroke of the bell take their hearts out of their living bodies.'
"Ninon sank on the floor, murmuring like a dying zephyr140 among the chords of an AEolian harp141, 'Farewell, mother dear. Farewell, my lover true. I cannot meet you to-morrow at the FALLEN TREE' (here Hemstead glanced at Lottie, whose face was instantly suffused); and she bowed her bead142 upon her brother's shoulder, and sobbed aloud.
"Slowly and solemnly upon the silent night the iron tongue tolled out the fatal moments.
"With increasing uneasiness the monster upon his sable throne watched little Pierre, who, from first to last, had not shown a trace of fear or trouble. Among all his victims he had never seen a child like this, and his guilty heart began to fail him wofully.
"'He surely sees something,' he muttered, as the boy's large eyes dilated144 with a wondrous145 awe146, and his face grew luminous147 with a great joy.
"The heavy vibrations148 of the last stroke of the bell resounded149 through the silent night.
"Suddenly, with a shrill150, piercing voice that went like an arrow to the guilty heart of Laval, little Pierre exclaimed, 'It is Christmas morn! O Ninon, look! there is Jesu, the Christ-Child, and the Lord of all the saints. See, He is coming towards us, bearing His cross—He is here—He is placing His pierced hands upon our heads—we are saved'; and the child knelt reverently151 on the pavement, and his sister knelt beside him.
"The monster tumbled off his sable throne and lay grovelling152 and groaning154 upon the floor, while his terror-stricken accomplices ran clattering155 down the stairs.
"Far above the tower even, Ninon thought she heard a burst of heavenly song, while little Pierre in rapt ecstasy156 cried,' Listen.'
"Suddenly a clarion157 voice that Ninon heard most plainly, and that thrilled her to the heart, rang up from the earth beneath.
"' Harm but a hair of their heads, and I will make you suffer the tortures of the damned.'
"Even at their height they could hear the sound of galloping158 steeds.
"A dozen brave fellows swam the moat, and a moment later the draw-bridge fell heavily, and the clangor of a hundred hoofs159 rang upon it.
"Up the winding160 stair came the tramp of armed men. A thud and a groan153 followed when any resisted. The dethroned monster lay grovelling on the floor, not daring to move.
"Little Pierre still looked heavenward. Ninon looked towards the door. A moment later her lover rushed in with drawn161 sword; and Ninon, unharmed, with a cry of joy sprang to his heart.
"But the fire of a terrible anger burned in the young man's cheek, and he raised his gleaming sword against Laval, who now pleaded piteously for mercy.
"'What mercy would you have shown these children?' thundered the youth. 'What mercy have you shown to your other innocent victims?' and he was about to run him through when Ninon caught his arm and cried, 'Stay, kill him not this Christmas morn in his terrible guilt143. It was Jesu who saved us; and does He not ever say, Forgive—even our enemies?'
"Slowly she drew down the raised arm of human vengeance162. She took from his reluctant hand the gleaming sword, and returned it in its sheath.
"And now Ninon has become more than a woman,—she is a Christian."
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收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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2
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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3
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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5
irresolution
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| n.不决断，优柔寡断，犹豫不定 | |
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6
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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7
tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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8
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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9
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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10
inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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11
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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12
flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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13
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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14
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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15
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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16
circumspect
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| adj.慎重的，谨慎的 | |
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17
conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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18
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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19
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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20
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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21
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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22
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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23
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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24
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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25
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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26
muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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27
portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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28
stimulant
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| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
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29
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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30
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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31
prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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32
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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33
piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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34
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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35
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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36
querying
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的现在分词 )；询问 | |
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37
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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38
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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39
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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40
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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41
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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42
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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43
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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44
stickler
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| n.坚持细节之人 | |
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45
manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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46
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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47
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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48
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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49
rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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50
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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51
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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52
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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53
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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54
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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55
perverseness
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| n. 乖张, 倔强, 顽固 | |
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56
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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57
hemming
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| 卷边 | |
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58
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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59
pouted
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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61
commentators
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| n.评论员( commentator的名词复数 )；时事评论员；注释者；实况广播员 | |
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62
amplifying
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| 放大，扩大( amplify的现在分词 )； 增强； 详述 | |
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63
boding
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| adj.凶兆的，先兆的n.凶兆，前兆，预感v.预示，预告，预言( bode的现在分词 )；等待，停留( bide的过去分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待 | |
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64
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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65
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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66
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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67
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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68
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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69
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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70
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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71
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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72
mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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73
allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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74
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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75
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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76
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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77
covet
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| vt.垂涎；贪图(尤指属于他人的东西) | |
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78
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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79
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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80
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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81
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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82
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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83
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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84
complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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85
fawn
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| n.未满周岁的小鹿；v.巴结，奉承 | |
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86
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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87
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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88
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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89
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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90
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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91
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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92
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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93
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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94
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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95
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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96
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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97
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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98
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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99
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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100
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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101
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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102
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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103
accomplices
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| 从犯，帮凶，同谋( accomplice的名词复数 ) | |
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104
tolled
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| 鸣钟（toll的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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105
toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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106
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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107
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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108
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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109
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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110
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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111
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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112
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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113
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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114
scintillating
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| adj．才气横溢的,闪闪发光的; 闪烁的 | |
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115
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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116
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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117
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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118
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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119
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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120
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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122
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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123
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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124
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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125
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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126
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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127
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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128
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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129
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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130
untold
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| adj.数不清的，无数的 | |
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131
tolls
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| （缓慢而有规律的）钟声( toll的名词复数 )； 通行费； 损耗； （战争、灾难等造成的）毁坏 | |
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132
transmute
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| vt.使变化，使改变 | |
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133
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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134
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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135
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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136
mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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137
mandate
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| n.托管地；命令，指示 | |
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138
apparitions
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| n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 )；幽灵；鬼；（特异景象等的）出现 | |
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139
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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140
zephyr
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| n.和风，微风 | |
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141
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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142
bead
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| n.念珠；(pl.)珠子项链；水珠 | |
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143
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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144
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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145
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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146
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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148
vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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149
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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150
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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151
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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152
grovelling
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| adj.卑下的，奴颜婢膝的v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的现在分词 )；趴 | |
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153
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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154
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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155
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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156
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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157
clarion
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| n.尖音小号声；尖音小号 | |
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158
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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159
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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160
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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161
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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162
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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