Et cependant mon coeur est encore assez lache
Pour ne pouvoir briser la cha?ne qui l'attache.—Le Misanthrope2.
"I had an old friend," Buckland began, with some glimmering3 of his former vivacity,—"De Ruyter,—I don't think you ever knew him. He was the representative of a family great in its day and generation, but broken in fortune, and without means to support its pretensions4. This did not at all tend to diminish their pride,—precisely5 of that kind which goeth before destruction. De Ruyter was a good fellow, however, and, if he had had twenty thousand a year, he would have spent it all. One summer, four years ago, he went with his child—his wife had died the year before—and his two sisters to spend a few weeks at a quiet little watering-place on the Jersey6 shore, frequented by people of good standing7, but not fashionably inclined. De Ruyter praised the sporting in the neighborhood, and persuaded me to go with him.
"His sisters were very agreeable women,—cultivated and lively, but proud as Lucifer, and desperately8 exclusive. A nouveau riche was, in their eyes, equivalent to every thing that is odious9 and detestable; and to call a man a parvenu10 was to steep him in infamy11 forever. The men at the house were, for the most part, of no great account—chiefly old bachelors, or sober family men run to seed, with a number of awkward young boobies not yet in bloom. The two ladies liked the company of a lazy fellow like me, a butterfly of society, with the poets, at least the sentimental12 ones, on my tongue's end, and the latest advices from the fashionable world. I staid there a week, and when that was over they persuaded me to stay another.
"On the day after, there was a fresh arrival,—a gentleman from Philadelphia, with his sister and his daughter. He only remained for the night, and went away in the morning, leaving the ladies behind. The sister was a starched13 old person,—a sort of purblind14 duenna, with grizzled hair, gold spectacles, and cap. The daughter I need not describe, for you saw her half an hour ago.
"Her family was good enough; her father a lawyer in Philadelphia. She was well educated—played admirably, and spoke15 excellent French and Italian. How much or how little she had frequented cultivated society, I do not know,—her own assertions went for nothing; but she had the utmost ease and grace of manner, and an invincible16 self-possession. Her ruling passion was a compound of vanity and pride, an insatiable craving17 for admiration18 and power. Whatever associates she happened to be among, nothing satisfied her but to be the cynosure19 of all eyes, the centre of all influence. I have known women enough,—women of all kinds, good, bad, and indifferent; but such a one as she I never met but once. I shall not soon forget the evening when I first saw her, seated opposite me at the tea table. She was a small, light figure,—as you saw her just now,—the features, perhaps, a trifle too large. I never recall her, as she appeared at that time, without thinking of Byron's description of one of his mischief-making heroines:—
"'Her form had all the softness of her sex,
Her features all the sweetness of the devil,
Eve, and paved—God knows how—the road to evil.'
"She was utterly21 unscrupulous. The depth of her artifice22 was unfathomable. She soon became the moving spirit of that little cockney watering-place—some admiring her, some hating her, some desperately smitten23 with her. I can see through her manoeuvres now, but then I was blind as a mole24. She understood every body about her, and held out to each the kind of bait which was most likely to attract him. There was a sort of dilettante25 there whose heart she won by talking to him of the Italian poets, which, by the way, she really loved, for there was a dash of genius in her. She aimed to impress each one with the idea that in her heart she liked him better than any one else; and it was her game to appear on all occasions perfectly26 impulsive27 and spontaneous, while, in fact, every look, word, or act of hers had an object in it. In short, she was an accomplished28 actress; and, had her figure been more commanding, she might have rivalled Rachel on the stage. No two people were exactly agreed in opinion concerning her; but all—I mean all the men—thought her excessively interesting; and I remember that two young collegians had nearly fought a duel29 about her, each thinking that she was in love with him. Nothing delighted her more than to become the occasion of the jealousy30 of married women towards their husbands,—nothing, that is, except the still greater delight of fascinating a certain young New Yorker who had come to the house on a visit to his betrothed31.
"For some time every one supposed her to be unmarried. She did her best, indeed, to encourage the idea, since she thus gained to herself more notice and more marked attentions. At length, to the astonishment32 of every body, it came out that she had been, for more than a year, married to a cousin of her own, a weak and imbecile youngster, as I afterwards learned, who was then absent on an East India voyage, and who, happily for himself, has since died.
"I said that all the men in the house were interested in her; but you should have seen the commotion33 she raised among the women! There were three or four simple girls about her who admired her, and were her devoted34 instruments; but with the rest she was at sword's point. There were a thousand ways in which they and she could come into collision; and, of course, they soon found her out, while the men remained in the dark. If they were handsome and attractive, she hated them; and if they would not conform to her will, she could never forgive it. The disputes, the jars, the jealousies35, the backbitings, the tricks and stratagems36 of female warfare37 that I have seen in that house, and all of her raising! She was a dangerous enemy. Her tongue could sting like a wasp38; and all the while she would smile on her victim as if she were reporting some agreeable compliment. She had a satanic dexterity39 in dealing40 out her stabs, always choosing the time, place, and company, where they would tell with the sharpest effect.
"With all her insincerity, there was still a tincture of reality in her. Her passions and emotions were strong; and she was so addicted41 to falsehood, that I am confident she did not always know whether the feeling she expressed were real or pretended.
"The grace and apparent abandon of her manner, her beauty, her wit, her singular power of influencing the will of others, and the dash of poetry, which, strange as you may think it, still pervaded42 her, made her altogether a very perilous43 acquaintance. I, certainly, have cause to say so. I lingered a week, a fortnight, a month, and still could not find resolution to go. I had an air, a name in society, and the reputation of being dangerous. She thought me worth angling for, put forth44 all her arts, and caught me.
"I have read an Indian legend of a fisherman who catches a fish and drags him to the surface, but in the midst of his triumph, the fish swallows him, canoe and all. The angler, however, kills him by striking at his heart with his flinty war club, and then makes his escape by tearing a way through his vitals. The case of the fish is precisely analogous45 to mine. She caught me, as I said before; but I caught her in turn. She fell in love with me, wildly and desperately. Her passions were as fierce and as transient as a tropical hurricane. She had no scruples46; and I had not as many as I should have had. One evening we were gone, and two days after we were out of sight of land on board one of the Cunard steamers.
"For the next two months, I was in paradise. Then came a purgatory47, or something worse. Her passion for me subsided48 as quickly as it had arisen. She was herself again. Her vanity and artifice, her insatiable love of intrigue49 and adventure, returned with double force. I wore myself out with watching, vexation, and anxiety. She tried every means to attract attention and draw admirers, and every where she succeeded. I remember that one night at Naples she insisted on going with me to the theatre of San Carlo, in the dress of a young man, and wearing a moustache. The disguise was detected, as she meant it should be, and eyes centred upon her from all the boxes. I tried to travel with her through remote and unfrequented countries, such as the interior of Sicily; but it was all in vain. There was no resisting her fiery50 will, and I was compelled to go wherever she wished.
"One afternoon, at Messina, at the table d'h?te, we met a lively young Spanish nobleman. She caught his eye; I saw them exchange glances. In spite of all my precautions, messages, billets, and momentary51 interviews passed between them. I challenged the Spaniard, gave him a severe flesh wound, and thought I had taught him a lesson. Not at all. On the next day, coming to my lodgings52, I found her gone, no one could tell whither. I was desperate, and could have done any thing; but there was nothing to be done. I could not find her, and if I had it would have availed me nothing.
"I returned to America, wrought53 up to the verge54 of a nervous fever; and, by mingling55 in amusements of every kind, tried to forget her. In six or eight months I had partially56 succeeded. My health was not good, and I had made a journey of a few weeks to the west; when, on returning,—it was a sultry July afternoon,—I remember it as if it were yesterday,—sitting in the reading room window of the New York Hotel, I saw her passing down Broadway in an open carriage; and, with the sight, my passion awoke again at fever heat. She had left the Spaniard, and come to America with a New York gentleman, who had lived for some time in Paris. I had an interview with her, and she promised to join me again; but she broke her word. She saw at once what a power she still held over me; and she has used it most mercilessly ever since. She practises all her arts on me, as if I were a new lover, whom she wished to insnare. Sometimes she flatters me; sometimes she repels57 me; now and then she allows me stolen interviews, or long walks or rides with her. She plays me as an angler plays a salmon58 that he has hooked, till he brings him gasping59 to his death. I have plunged60 into dissipations of all kinds, to drown the memory of her. It is all useless. She knows the torments61 I am suffering, and she rejoices in them. Perhaps she remembers that it was I who made her what she is, and takes this for her revenge. But, pshaw!—if I had not eloped with her, some one else would have done so soon; and that she perfectly well knows. It is her vanity—nothing but her vanity: she delights to hold me in bondage62; she knows that I am her slave, and she glories in it."
"But why, in Heaven's name," demanded Morton, "do you not break away from this miserable63 fascination64?"
"There it is!" Buckland answered; "I only wish that I had the power. I have resolved twenty times to leave New York, and my resolution has failed me as often."
"Who takes charge of her now?"
"Colonel ——. He seems as crazy after her as I was."
"I can hardly comprehend," pursued Morton, "how, understanding her character as you do, you can still remain so infatuated with her."
"Neither can I comprehend it. I can only feel it. Strange—is it not?—that I, who used to be regarded as a mere65 flirt66; who, as a lady acquaintance once told me, had a great deal too much sentiment, but no heart at all; I, who, in my time, have written love verses to twenty different ladies,—should be so enchained at last by this black-eyed witch!"
"Very strange."
"And now what would you recommend? what advice do you give me? You see in what a predicament I stand. What ought I to do?"
"With your broken health and weakened nerves," said Morton, "it is useless for you to attempt contending against this fancy that has taken possession of you. You must run away from it. Take a long voyage; the longer the better. I will go with you to engage your passage to-morrow."
Buckland hesitated at first, slowly shaking his head; but in a moment he said, with some animation67, "Yes, I will go, on one condition; you must promise to go with me."
The will, the motive68 power,—never very strong in him,—was now completely relaxed. He was unfitted for action of any kind, and was, as he himself said, no better than a sea weed drifting on the water. Morton walked the streets with him for some hours. He seemed to cling to his companion, like an ivy69 to the supporting trunk, and was evidently reluctant to resign his company. At length, Morton, who was exhausted70 with the excitements of the day, pleaded fatigue71, and bade him good night. He turned again, however, and, by the blaze of the gas lamps, followed with his eye Buckland's slowly receding72 figure.
"A few hours ago," he said to himself, "I thought myself unhappy; but what is my suffering compared to his? I am not, thank God, the builder of my own misfortunes, nor pursued with the reflection that they are a just retribution for my own misdeeds. With health, liberty, self-respect, and a good conscience, what man has a right to call himself miserable?"
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1
tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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2
misanthrope
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| n.恨人类的人；厌世者 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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parvenu
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| n.暴发户，新贵 | |
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infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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purblind
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| adj.半盲的；愚笨的 | |
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15
spoke
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| 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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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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cynosure
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| n.焦点 | |
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cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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artifice
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| n.妙计，高明的手段；狡诈，诡计 | |
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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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jealousies
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| n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 )；妒羡 | |
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stratagems
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| n.诡计，计谋( stratagem的名词复数 )；花招 | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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wasp
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| n.黄蜂，蚂蜂 | |
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dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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42
pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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analogous
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| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
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46
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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47
purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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48
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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49
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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50
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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51
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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52
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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53
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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repels
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| v.击退( repel的第三人称单数 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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60
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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61
torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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66
flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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72
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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