"It happened in New Orleans last winter," he answered. "I'd finished up my business and was on the loose, and thought I'd walk alone through the Vieux Carré—the old French Quarter. I'd had dinner at Antoine's and stopped around at the Old Absinthe House for a few drinks, then strolled down to the French Market for a cup of chicory coffee and some doughnuts. Finally I walked down Royal Street to look at Madame Lalaurie's old mansion1; that's the famous haunted house, you know. I wanted to see if I could find a ghost. Good Lord, I wanted to!
"The moon was full that night, but the house was still as old Saint Denis Cemetery2, so after peering through the iron grilles that shut the courtyard from the street for half an hour or so, I started back toward Canal Street.
"I'd almost reached Bienville Street when just as I passed one of those funny two-storied iron-grilled balconies so many of the old houses have I heard something drop on the sidewalk at my feet. It was a japonica, one of those rose-like flowers they grow in the courtyard gardens down there. When I looked up, a girl was laughing at me from the second story of the balcony. 'Mon fleuron, monsieur, s'il vous plait,' she called, stretching down a white arm for the bloom.
DR. TROWBRIDGE.
"The moonlight hung about her like a veil of silver tissue, and I could see her plainly as though it had been noon. Most New Orleans girls are dark. She was fair, her hair was very fine and silky and about the color of a frosted chestnut-burr. She wore it in a long bob with curls around her face and neck, and I knew without being told that those ringlets weren't put in with a hot iron. Her face was pale, colorless and fine-textured as a magnolia petal3, but her lips were brilliant crimson4. There was something reminiscent of those ladies you see pictured in Directoire prints about her; small, regular features, straight, white, high-waisted gown tied with a wide girdle underneath5 her bosom6, low, round-cut neck and tiny, ball-puff sleeves that left her lovely arms uncovered to the shoulder. She was like Rose Beauharnais or Madame de Fontenay, except for her fair hair, and her eyes. Her eyes were like an Eastern slave's, languishing7 and passionate8, even when she laughed. And she was laughing then, with a throaty, almost caressing9 laugh as I tossed the flower up to her and she leant across the iron railing, snatching at it futilely10 as it fell just short of reach.
"'C'est sans profit,' she laughed at last. 'Your skill is too small or my arm too short, m'sieur. Bring it up to me.'
"'You mean for me to come up there?' I asked.
"'But certainly. I have teeth, but will not bite you—maybe.'
"The street door to the house was open; I pushed it back, groped my way along a narrow hall and climbed a flight of winding11 stairs. She was waiting for me on the balcony, lovelier, close up, if that were possible, than when I'd seen her from the sidewalk. Her gown was China silk, so sheer and clinging that the shadow of her charming figure showed against its rippling12 folds like a lovely silhouette13; the sash which bound it was a six-foot length of rainbow ribbon tied coquettishly beneath her shoulders and trailing in fringed ends almost to her dress-hem at the back; her feet were stockingless and shod with sandals fastened with cross-straps of purple grosgrain laced about the ankles. Save for the small gold rings that scintillated14 in her ears, she wore no ornaments15 of any kind.
"'Mon fleur, m'sieur,' she ordered haughtily16, stretching out her hand; then her eyes lighted with sudden laughter and she turned her back to me, bending her head forward. 'But no, it fell into your hands; it is that you must put in its place again,' she ordered, pointing to a curl where she wished the flower set. 'Come, m'sieur, I wait upon you.'
"On the settee by the wall a guitar lay. She picked it up and ran her slim, pale fingers twice across the strings17, sounding a soft, melancholy18 chord. When she began to sing, her words were slurred19 and languorous20, and I had trouble understanding them; for the song was ancient when Bienville turned the first spadeful of earth that marked the ramparts of New Orleans:
O knights21 of gay Toulouse And sweet Beaucaire, Greet me my own true love And speak him fair....
"Her voice had the throaty, velvety22 quality one hears in people of the Southern countries, and the words of the song seemed fairly to yearn23 with the sadness and passionate longing24 of the love-bereft. But she smiled as she put by her instrument, a curious smile, which heightened the mystery of her face, and her wide eyes seemed suddenly half questing, half drowsy25, as she asked, 'Would you ride off upon your grim, pale horse and leave poor little Julie d'Ayen famishing for love, m'sieur?'
"'Ride off from you?' I answered gallantly26. 'How can you ask?' A verse from Burns came to me:
Then fare thee well, my bonny lass, And fare thee well awhile, And I will come to thee again An it were ten thousand mile.
"There was something avid27 in the look she gave me. Something more than mere28 gratified vanity shone in her eyes as she turned her face up to me in the moonlight. 'You mean it?' she demanded in a quivering, breathless voice.
"'Of course,' I bantered29. 'How could you doubt it?'
"'Then swear it—seal the oath with blood!'
"Her eyes were almost closed, and her lips were lightly parted as she leant toward me. I could see the thin, white line of tiny, gleaming teeth behind the lush red of her lips; the tip of a pink tongue swept across her mouth, leaving it warmer, moister, redder than before; in her throat a small pulse throbbed30 palpitatingly. Her lips were smooth and soft as the flower-petals in her hair, but as they crushed on mine they seemed to creep about them as though endowed with a volition31 of their own. I could feel them gliding32 almost stealthily, searching greedily, it seemed, until they covered my entire mouth. Then came a sudden searing burn of pain which passed as quickly as it flashed across my lips, and she seemed inhaling33 deeply, desperately34, as though to pump the last faint gasp35 of breath up from my lungs. A humming sounded in my ears; everything went dark around me as if I had been plunged36 in some abysmal37 flood; a spell of dreamy lassitude was stealing over me when she pushed me from her so abruptly38 that I staggered back against the iron railing of the gallery.
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1
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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2
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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3
petal
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| n.花瓣 | |
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4
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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5
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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6
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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7
languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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8
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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9
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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10
futilely
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| futile（无用的）的变形； 干 | |
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11
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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12
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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13
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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14
scintillated
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| v.（言谈举止中）焕发才智( scintillate的过去式和过去分词 )；谈笑洒脱；闪耀；闪烁 | |
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15
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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17
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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18
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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19
slurred
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| 含糊地说出( slur的过去式和过去分词 )； 含糊地发…的声； 侮辱； 连唱 | |
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20
languorous
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| adj.怠惰的，没精打采的 | |
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21
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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22
velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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23
yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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24
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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25
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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26
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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27
avid
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| adj.热心的；贪婪的；渴望的；劲头十足的 | |
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28
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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29
bantered
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| v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的过去式和过去分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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30
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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31
volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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32
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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33
inhaling
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| v.吸入( inhale的现在分词 ) | |
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34
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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35
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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36
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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37
abysmal
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| adj.无底的，深不可测的，极深的；糟透的，极坏的；完全的 | |
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38
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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