Startling doubts beset3 me as I walked restlessly backward and forward, now in the anteroom, and now in the corridor outside. It was plain that I had (quite innocently) disturbed the repose4 of some formidable secrets in Miserrimus Dexter’s mind. I confused and wearied my poor brains in trying to guess what the secrets might be. All my ingenuity—as after-events showed me—was wasted on speculations5 not one of which even approached the truth. I was on surer ground when I arrived at the conclusion that Dexter had really kept every mortal creature out of his confidence. He could never have betrayed such serious signs of disturbance7 as I had noticed in him, if he had publicly acknowledged at the Trial, or if he had privately8 communicated to any chosen friend, all that he knew of the tragic9 and terrible drama acted in the bedchamber at Gleninch. What powerful influence had induced him to close his lips? Had he been silent in mercy to others? or in dread10 of consequences to himself? Impossible to tell! Could I hope that he would confide6 to Me what he had kept secret from Justice and Friendship alike? When he knew what I really wanted of him, would he arm me, out of his own stores of knowledge, with the weapon that would win me victory in the struggle to come? The chances were against it—there was no denying that. Still the end was worth trying for. The caprice of the moment might yet stand my friend, with such a wayward being as Miserrimus Dexter. My plans and projects were sufficiently11 strange, sufficiently wide of the ordinary limits of a woman’s thoughts and actions, to attract his sympathies. “Who knows,” I thought to myself, “if I may not take his confidence by surprise, by simply telling him the truth?”
The interval expired; the door was thrown open; the voice of my host summoned me again to the inner room.
“Welcome back!” said Miserrimus Dexter.
“Dear Mrs. Valeria, I am quite myself again. How are you?”
He looked and spoke12 with the easy cordiality of an old friend. During the period of my absence, short as it was, another change had passed over this most multiform of living beings. His eyes sparkled with good-humor; his cheeks were flushing under a new excitement of some sort. Even his dress had undergone alteration14 since I had seen it last. He now wore an extemporized15 cap of white paper; his ruffles16 were tucked up; a clean apron17 was thrown over the sea-green coverlet. He hacked18 his chair before me, bowing and smiling, and waved me to a seat with the grace of a dancing master, chastened by the dignity of a lord in waiting.
“I am going to cook,” he announced, with the most engaging simplicity19. “We both stand in need of refreshment20 before we return to the serious business of our interview. You see me in my cook’s dress; forgive it. There is a form in these things. I am a great stickler21 for forms. I have been taking some wine. Please sanction that proceeding22 by taking some wine too.”
He filled a goblet23 of ancient Venetian glass with a purple-red liquor, beautiful to see.
“Burgundy!” he said—“the king of wine: And this is the king of Burgundies—Clos Vougeot. I drink to your health and happiness!”
He filled a second goblet for himself, and honored the toast by draining it to the bottom. I now understood the sparkle in his eyes and the flush in his cheeks. It was my interest not to offend him. I drank a little of his wine, and I quite agreed with him. I thought it delicious.
“What shall we eat?” he asked. “It must be something worthy24 of our Clos Vougeot. Ariel is good at roasting and boiling joints25, poor wretch27! but I don’t insult your taste by offering you Ariel’s cookery. Plain joints!” he exclaimed, with an expression of refined disgust. “Bah! A man who eats a plain joint26 is only one remove from a cannibal or a butcher. Will you leave it to me to discover something more worthy of us? Let us go to the kitchen.”
He wheeled his chair around, and invited me to accompany him with a courteous28 wave of his hand.
I followed the chair to some closed curtains at one end of the room, which I had not hitherto noticed. Drawing aside the curtains, he revealed to view an alcove29, in which stood a neat little gas-stove for cooking. Drawers and cupboards, plates, dishes, and saucepans, were ranged around the alcove—all on a miniature scale, all scrupulously30 bright and clean. “Welcome to the kitchen!” said Miserrimus Dexter. He drew out of a recess31 in the wall a marble slab32, which served as a table, and reflected profoundly, with his hand to his head. “I have it!” he cried, and opening one of the cupboards next, took from it a black bottle of a form that was new to me. Sounding this bottle with a spike33, he pierced and produced to view some little irregularly formed black objects, which might have been familiar enough to a woman accustomed to the luxurious34 tables of the rich, but which were a new revelation to a person like myself, who had led a simple country life in the house of a clergyman with small means. When I saw my host carefully lay out these occult substances of uninviting appearance on a clean napkin, and then plunge35 once more into profound reflection at the sight of them, my curiosity could be no longer restrained. I ventured to say, “What are those things, Mr. Dexter, and are we really going to eat them?”
He started at the rash question, and looked at me with hands outspread in irrepressible astonishment36.
“Where is our boasted progress?” he cried. “What is education but a name? Here is a cultivated person who doesn’t know Truffles when she sees them!”
“I have heard of truffles,” I answered, humbly37, “but I never saw them before. We had no such foreign luxuries as those, Mr. Dexter, at home in the North.”
Miserrimus Dexter lifted one of the truffles tenderly on his spike, and held it up to me in a favorable light.
“Make the most of one of the few first sensations in this life which has no ingredient of disappointment lurking38 under the surface,” he said. “Look at it; meditate39 over it. You shall eat it, Mrs. Valeria, stewed40 in Burgundy!”
He lighted the gas for cooking with the air of a man who was about to offer me an inestimable proof of his good-will.
“Forgive me if I observe the most absolute silence,” he said, “dating from the moment when I take this in my hand.” He produced a bright little stew-pan from his collection of culinary utensils41 as he spoke. “Properly pursued, the Art of Cookery allows of no divided attention,” he continued, gravely. “In that observation you will find the reason why no woman ever has reached, or ever will reach, the highest distinction as a cook. As a rule, women are incapable42 of absolutely concentrating their attention on any one occupation for any given time. Their minds will run on something else—say; typically, for the sake of illustration, their sweetheart or their new bonnet43. The one obstacle, Mrs. Valeria, to your rising equal to the men in the various industrial processes of life is not raised, as the women vainly suppose, by the defective44 institutions of the age they live in. No! the obstacle is in themselves. No institutions that can be devised to encourage them will ever be strong enough to contend successfully with the sweetheart and the new bonnet. A little while ago, for instance, I was instrumental in getting women employed in our local post-office here. The other day I took the trouble—a serious business to me—of getting downstairs, and wheeling myself away to the office to see how they were getting on. I took a letter with me to register. It had an unusually long address. The registering woman began copying the address on the receipt form, in a business-like manner cheering and delightful45 to see. Half way through, a little child-sister of one of the other women employed trotted46 into the office, and popped under the counter to go and speak to her relative. The registering woman’s mind instantly gave way. Her pencil stopped; her eyes wandered off to the child with a charming expression of interest. ‘Well, Lucy,’ she said, ‘how d’ye do?’ Then she remembered business again, and returned to her receipt. When I took it across the counter, an important line in the address of my letter was left out in the copy. Thanks to Lucy. Now a man in the same position would not have seen Lucy—he would have been too closely occupied with what he was about at the moment. There is the whole difference between the mental constitution of the sexes, which no legislation will ever alter as long as the world lasts! What does it matter? Women are infinitely47 superior to men in the moral qualities which are the true adornments of humanity. Be content—oh, my mistaken sisters, be content with that!”
He twisted his chair around toward the stove. It was useless to dispute the question with him, even if I had felt inclined to do so. He absorbed himself in his stew-pan.
I looked about me in the room.
The same insatiable relish48 for horrors exhibited downstairs by the pictures in the hall was displayed again here. The photographs hanging on the wall represented the various forms of madness taken from the life. The plaster casts ranged on the shelf opposite were casts (after death) of the heads of famous murderers. A frightful49 little skeleton of a woman hung in a cupboard, behind a glazed50 door, with this cynical51 inscription52 placed above the skull53: “Behold the scaffolding on which beauty is built!” In a corresponding cupboard, with the door wide open, there hung in loose folds a shirt (as I took it to be) of chamois leather. Touching54 it (and finding it to be far softer than any chamois leather that my fingers had ever felt before), I disarranged the folds, and disclosed a ticket pinned among them, describing the thing in these horrid55 lines: “Skin of a French Marquis, tanned in the Revolution of Ninety-three. Who says the nobility are not good for something? They make good leather.”
After this last specimen56 of my host’s taste in curiosities, I pursued my investigation57 no further. I returned to my chair, and waited for the truffles.
After a brief interval, the voice of the poet-painter-composer-and-cook summoned me back to the alcove.
The gas was out. The stew-pan and its accompaniments had vanished. On the marble slab were two plates, two napkins, two rolls of bread, and a dish, with another napkin in it, on which reposed58 two quaint59 little black balls. Miserrimus Dexter, regarding me with a smile of benevolent60 interest, put one of the balls on my plate, and took the other himself. “Compose yourself, Mrs. Valeria,” he said. “This is an epoch61 in your life. Your first Truffle! Don’t touch it with the knife. Use the fork alone. And—pardon me; this is most important—eat slowly.”
I followed my instructions, and assumed an enthusiasm which I honestly confess I did not feel. I privately thought the new vegetable a great deal too rich, and in other respects quite unworthy of the fuss that had been made about it. Miserrimus Dexter lingered and languished62 over his truffles, and sipped63 his wonderful Burgundy, and sang his own praises as a cook until I was really almost mad with impatience64 to return to the real object of my visit. In the reckless state of mind which this feeling produced, I abruptly65 reminded my host that he was wasting our time, by the most dangerous question that I could possibly put to him.
“Mr. Dexter,” I said, “have you seen anything lately of Mrs. Beauly?”
The easy sense of enjoyment66 expressed in his face left it at those rash words, and went out like a suddenly extinguished light. That furtive67 distrust of me which I had already noticed instantly made itself felt again in his manner and in his voice.
“Do you know Mrs. Beauly?” he asked.
“I only know her,” I answered, “by what I have read of her in the Trial.”
He was not satisfied with that reply.
“You must have an interest of some sort in Mrs. Beauly,” he said, “or you would not have asked me about her. Is it the interest of a friend, or the interest of an enemy?”
Rash as I might be, I was not quite reckless enough yet to meet that plain question by an equally plain reply. I saw enough in his face to warn me to be careful with him before it was too late.
“I can only answer you in one way,” I rejoined. “I must return to a subject which is very painful to you—the subject of the Trial.”
“Go on,” he said, with one of his grim outbursts of humor. “Here I am at your mercy—a martyr68 at the stake. Poke13 the fire! poke the fire!”
“I am only an ignorant woman,” I resumed, “and I dare say I am quite wrong; but there is one part of my husband’s trial which doesn’t at all satisfy me. The defense69 set up for him seems to me to have been a complete mistake.”
“A complete mistake?” he repeated. “Strange language, Mrs. Valeria, to say the least of it!” He tried to speak lightly; he took up his goblet of wine; but I could see that I had produced an effect on him. His hand trembled as it carried the wine to his lips.
“I don’t doubt that Eustace’s first wife really asked him to buy the arsenic,” I continued. “I don’t doubt that she used it secretly to improve her complexion70. But what I do not believe is that she died of an overdose of the poison, taken by mistake.”
He put back the goblet of wine on the table near him so unsteadily that he spilled the greater part of it. For a moment his eyes met mine, then looked down again.
“How do you believe she died?” he inquired, in tones so low that I could barely hear them.
“By the hand of a poisoner,” I answered.
He made a movement as if he were about to start up in the chair, and sank back again, seized, apparently71, with a sudden faintness.
“Not my husband!” I hastened to add. “You know that I am satisfied of his innocence72.”
I saw him shudder73. I saw his hands fasten their hold convulsively on the arms of his chair.
“Who poisoned her?” he asked, still lying helplessly back in the chair.
At the critical moment my courage failed me. I was afraid to tell him in what direction my suspicions pointed74.
“Can’t you guess?” I said.
There was a pause. I supposed him to be secretly following his own train of thought. It was not for long. On a sudden he started up in his chair. The prostration75 which had possessed76 him appeared to vanish in an instant. His eyes recovered their wild light; his hands were steady again; his color was brighter than ever. Had he been pondering over the secret of my interest in Mrs. Beauly? and had he guessed? He had!
“Answer on your word of honor!” he cried. “Don’t attempt to deceive me! Is it a woman?”
“It is.”
“What is the first letter of her name? Is it one of the first three letters of the alphabet?”
“Yes.”
“B?”
“Yes.”
“Beauly?”
“Beauly.”
He threw his hands up above his head, and burst into a frantic77 fit of laughter.
“I have lived long enough!” he broke out, wildly. “At last I have discovered one other person in the world who sees it as plainly as I do. Cruel Mrs. Valeria! why did you torture me? Why didn’t you own it before?”
“What!” I exclaimed, catching78 the infection of his excitement. “Are your ideas my ideas? Is it possible that you suspect Mrs. Beauly too?”
He made this remarkable79 reply:
“Suspect?” he repeated, contemptuously. “There isn’t the shadow of a doubt about it. Mrs. Beauly poisoned her.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
beset
|
|
| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
speculations
|
|
| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
confide
|
|
| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
disturbance
|
|
| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
tragic
|
|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
poke
|
|
| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
alteration
|
|
| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
extemporized
|
|
| v.即兴创作，即席演奏( extemporize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
ruffles
|
|
| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
hacked
|
|
| 生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
refreshment
|
|
| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
stickler
|
|
| n.坚持细节之人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
goblet
|
|
| n.高脚酒杯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
joints
|
|
| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
joint
|
|
| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
courteous
|
|
| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
alcove
|
|
| n.凹室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
scrupulously
|
|
| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
recess
|
|
| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
slab
|
|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
spike
|
|
| n.长钉，钉鞋；v.以大钉钉牢，使...失效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
luxurious
|
|
| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
humbly
|
|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
lurking
|
|
| 潜在 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
meditate
|
|
| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
stewed
|
|
| adj.焦虑不安的，烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
utensils
|
|
| 器具，用具，器皿( utensil的名词复数 )； 器物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
defective
|
|
| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
relish
|
|
| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
glazed
|
|
| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
cynical
|
|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
inscription
|
|
| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
skull
|
|
| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
specimen
|
|
| n.样本，标本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
investigation
|
|
| n.调查，调查研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
reposed
|
|
| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
benevolent
|
|
| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
epoch
|
|
| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
languished
|
|
| 长期受苦( languish的过去式和过去分词 )； 受折磨； 变得（越来越）衰弱； 因渴望而变得憔悴或闷闷不乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
sipped
|
|
| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
furtive
|
|
| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
martyr
|
|
| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
defense
|
|
| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
prostration
|
|
| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
frantic
|
|
| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |