"Which way shall we go?" she asked listlessly, with a glance to right and left, as they passed beneath the sombre Tuscan gate of their palazzo.
And Alan answered, smiling, "Why, what does it matter? Which way you like. Every way is a picture."
And so it was, Herminia herself was fain to admit, in a pure painter's sense that didn't at all attract her. Lines grouped themselves against the sky in infinite diversity. Whichever way they turned quaint3 old walls met their eyes, and tumble-down churches, and mouldering4 towers, and mediaeval palazzi with carved doorways5 or rich loggias. But whichever way they turned dusty roads too confronted them, illimitable stretches of gloomy suburb, unwholesome airs, sickening sights and sounds and perfumes. Narrow streets swept, darkling, under pointed6 archways, that framed distant vistas7 of spire8 or campanile, silhouetted9 against the solid blue sky of Italy. The crystal hardness of that sapphire10 firmament11 repelled12 Herminia. They passed beneath the triumphal arch of Augustus with its Etruscan mason-work, its Roman decorations, and round the antique walls, aglow13 with tufted gillyflowers, to the bare Piazza14 d'Armi. A cattle fair was going on there; and Alan pointed with pleasure to the curious fact that the oxen were all cream-colored,—the famous white steers15 of Clitumnus. Herminia knew her Virgil as well as Alan himself, and murmured half aloud the sonorous16 hexameter, "Romanos ad templa deum duxere triumphos." But somehow, the knowledge that these were indeed the milk-white bullocks of Clitumnus failed amid so much dust to arouse her enthusiasm. She would have been better pleased just then with a yellow English primrose17.
They clambered down the terraced ravines sometimes, a day or two later, to arid18 banks by a dry torrent's bed where Italian primroses19 really grew, interspersed20 with tall grape-hyacinths, and scented21 violets, and glossy22 cleft23 leaves of winter aconite. But even the primroses were not the same thing to Herminia as those she used to gather on the dewy slopes of the Redlands; they were so dry and dust-grimed, and the path by the torrent's side was so distasteful and unsavory. Bare white boughs24 of twisted fig-trees depressed25 her. Besides, these hills were steep, and Herminia felt the climbing. Nothing in city or suburbs attracted her soul. Etruscan Volumnii, each lolling in white travertine on the sculptured lid of his own sarcophagus urn2, and all duly ranged in the twilight26 of their tomb at their spectral27 banquet, stirred her heart but feebly. St. Francis, Santa Chiara, fell flat on her English fancy. But as for Alan, he revelled28 all day long in his native element. He sketched29 every morning, among the huddled30, strangled lanes; sketched churches and monasteries31, and portals of palazzi; sketched mountains clear-cut in that pellucid32 air; till Herminia wondered how he could sit so long in the broiling33 sun or keen wind on those bare hillsides, or on broken brick parapets in those noisome34 byways. But your born sketcher35 is oblivious36 of all on earth save his chosen art; and Alan was essentially37 a painter in fibre, diverted by pure circumstance into a Chancery practice.
The very pictures in the gallery failed to interest Herminia, she knew not why. Alan couldn't rouse her to enthusiasm over his beloved Buonfigli. Those naive38 flaxen-haired angels, with sweetly parted lips, and baskets of red roses in their delicate hands, own sisters though they were to the girlish Lippis she had so admired at Florence, moved her heart but faintly. Try as she might to like them, she responded to nothing Perugian in any way.
At the end of a week or two, however, Alan began to complain of constant headache. He was looking very well, but grew uneasy and restless. Herminia advised him to give up sketching39 for a while, those small streets were so close; and he promised to yield to her wishes in the matter. Yet he grew worse next day, so that Herminia, much alarmed, called in an Italian doctor. Perugia boasted no English one. The Italian felt his pulse, and listened to his symptoms. "The signore came here from Florence?" he asked.
"From Florence," Herminia assented40, with a sudden sinking.
The doctor protruded41 his lower lip. "This is typhoid fever," he said after a pause. "A very bad type. It has been assuming such a form this winter at Florence."
He spoke42 the plain truth. Twenty-one days before in his bedroom at the hotel in Florence, Alan had drunk a single glass of water from the polluted springs that supply in part the Tuscan metropolis43. For twenty-one days those victorious44 microbes had brooded in silence in his poisoned arteries45. At the end of that time, they swarmed46 and declared themselves. He was ill with an aggravated47 form of the most deadly disease that still stalks unchecked through unsanitated Europe.
Herminia's alarm was painful. Alan grew rapidly worse. In two days he was so ill that she thought it her duty to telegraph at once to Dr. Merrick, in London: "Alan's life in danger. Serious attack of Florentine typhoid. Italian doctor despairs of his life. May not last till to-morrow.—HERMINIA BARTON."
Later on in the day came a telegram in reply; it was addressed to Alan: "Am on my way out by through train to attend you. But as a matter of duty, marry the girl at once, and legitimatize48 your child while the chance remains49 to you."
It was kindly50 meant in its way. It was a message of love, of forgiveness, of generosity51, such as Herminia would hardly have expected from so stern a man as Alan had always represented his father to be to her. But at moments of unexpected danger angry feelings between father and son are often forgotten, and blood unexpectedly proves itself thicker than water. Yet even so Herminia couldn't bear to show the telegram to Alan. She feared lest in this extremity52, his mind weakened by disease, he might wish to take his father's advice, and prove untrue to their common principles. In that case, woman that she was, she hardly knew how she could resist what might be only too probably his dying wishes. Still, she nerved herself for this trial of faith, and went through with it bravely. Alan, though sinking, was still conscious at moments; in one such interval53, with an effort to be calm, she showed him his father's telegram. Tears rose into his eyes. "I didn't expect him to come," he said. "This is all very good of him." Then, after a moment, he added, "Would you wish me in this extremity, Hermy, to do as he advises?"
Herminia bent54 over him with fierce tears on her eyelids55. "O Alan darling," she cried, "you mustn't die! You mustn't leave me! What could I do without you? oh, my darling, my darling! But don't think of me now. Don't think of the dear baby. I couldn't bear to disturb you even by showing you the telegram. For your sake, Alan, I'll be calm,—I'll be calm. But oh, not for worlds,—not for worlds,—even so, would I turn my back on the principles we would both risk our lives for!"
Alan smiled a faint smile. "Hermy," he said slowly, "I love you all the more for it. You're as brave as a lion. Oh, how much I have learned from you!"
All that night and next day Herminia watched by his bedside. Now and again he was conscious. But for the most part he lay still, in a comatose56 condition, with eyes half closed, the whites showing through the lids, neither moving nor speaking. All the time he grew worse steadily57. As she sat by his bedside, Herminia began to realize the utter loneliness of her position. That Alan might die was the one element in the situation she had never even dreamt of. No wife could love her husband with more perfect devotion than Herminia loved Alan. She hung upon every breath with unspeakable suspense58 and unutterable affection. But the Italian doctor held out little hope of a rally. Herminia sat there, fixed59 to the spot, a white marble statue.
Late next evening Dr. Merrick reached Perugia. He drove straight from the station to the dingy60 flat in the morose61 palazzo. At the door of his son's room, Herminia met him, clad from head to foot in white, as she had sat by the bedside. Tears blinded her eyes; her face was wan62; her mien63 terribly haggard.
"And my son?" the Doctor asked, with a hushed breath of terror.
"He died half an hour ago," Herminia gasped64 out with an effort.
"But he married you before he died?" the father cried, in a tone of profound emotion. "He did justice to his child?—he repaired his evil?"
"He did not," Herminia answered, in a scarcely audible voice. "He was stanch65 to the end to his lifelong principles."
"Why not?" the father asked, staggering. "Did he see my telegram?"
"Yes," Herminia answered, numb66 with grief, yet too proud to prevaricate67. "But I advised him to stand firm; and he abode68 by my decision."
The father waved her aside with his hands imperiously. "Then I have done with you," he exclaimed. "I am sorry to seem harsh to you at such a moment. But it is your own doing. You leave me no choice. You have no right any longer in my son's apartments."
点击收听单词发音
1 traitor | |
n.叛徒,卖国贼 | |
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2 urn | |
n.(有座脚的)瓮;坟墓;骨灰瓮 | |
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3 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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4 mouldering | |
v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 );腐烂,崩塌 | |
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5 doorways | |
n.门口,门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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6 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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7 vistas | |
长条形景色( vista的名词复数 ); 回顾; 展望; (未来可能发生的)一系列情景 | |
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8 spire | |
n.(教堂)尖顶,尖塔,高点 | |
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9 silhouetted | |
显出轮廓的,显示影像的 | |
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10 sapphire | |
n.青玉,蓝宝石;adj.天蓝色的 | |
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11 firmament | |
n.苍穹;最高层 | |
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12 repelled | |
v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 );使厌恶;排斥;推开 | |
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13 aglow | |
adj.发亮的;发红的;adv.发亮地 | |
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14 piazza | |
n.广场;走廊 | |
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15 steers | |
n.阉公牛,肉用公牛( steer的名词复数 )v.驾驶( steer的第三人称单数 );操纵;控制;引导 | |
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16 sonorous | |
adj.响亮的,回响的;adv.圆润低沉地;感人地;n.感人,堂皇 | |
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17 primrose | |
n.樱草,最佳部分, | |
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18 arid | |
adj.干旱的;(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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19 primroses | |
n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 );淡黄色;追求享乐(招至恶果) | |
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20 interspersed | |
adj.[医]散开的;点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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21 scented | |
adj.有香味的;洒香水的;有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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22 glossy | |
adj.平滑的;有光泽的 | |
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23 cleft | |
n.裂缝;adj.裂开的 | |
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24 boughs | |
大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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25 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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26 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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27 spectral | |
adj.幽灵的,鬼魂的 | |
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28 revelled | |
v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉 | |
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29 sketched | |
v.草拟(sketch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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30 huddled | |
挤在一起(huddle的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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31 monasteries | |
修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
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32 pellucid | |
adj.透明的,简单的 | |
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33 broiling | |
adj.酷热的,炽热的,似烧的v.(用火)烤(焙、炙等)( broil的现在分词 );使卷入争吵;使混乱;被烤(或炙) | |
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34 noisome | |
adj.有害的,可厌的 | |
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35 sketcher | |
n.画略图者,作素描者,舞台布景设计者 | |
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36 oblivious | |
adj.易忘的,遗忘的,忘却的,健忘的 | |
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37 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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38 naive | |
adj.幼稚的,轻信的;天真的 | |
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39 sketching | |
n.草图 | |
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40 assented | |
同意,赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41 protruded | |
v.(使某物)伸出,(使某物)突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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43 metropolis | |
n.首府;大城市 | |
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44 victorious | |
adj.胜利的,得胜的 | |
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45 arteries | |
n.动脉( artery的名词复数 );干线,要道 | |
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46 swarmed | |
密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 ); 云集; 成群地移动; 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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47 aggravated | |
使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 ); 使更严重; 激怒; 使恼火 | |
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48 legitimatize | |
v.使合法化,立为嫡嗣 | |
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49 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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50 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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51 generosity | |
n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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52 extremity | |
n.末端,尽头;尽力;终极;极度 | |
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53 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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54 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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55 eyelids | |
n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 );眼睛也不眨一下;不露声色;面不改色 | |
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56 comatose | |
adj.昏睡的,昏迷不醒的 | |
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57 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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58 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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59 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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60 dingy | |
adj.昏暗的,肮脏的 | |
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61 morose | |
adj.脾气坏的,不高兴的 | |
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62 wan | |
(wide area network)广域网 | |
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63 mien | |
n.风采;态度 | |
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64 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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65 stanch | |
v.止住(血等);adj.坚固的;坚定的 | |
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66 numb | |
adj.麻木的,失去感觉的;v.使麻木 | |
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67 prevaricate | |
v.支吾其词;说谎;n.推诿的人;撒谎的人 | |
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68 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
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