“Here you can enjoy nature and freedom in security;” said the Eremite, “for your enemies, if they have not already given up their pursuit, will scarcely search this sweet solitude11.”
“It is indeed sweet, holy father,” said Iduna; “but the captive, who has escaped from captivity12, can alone feel all its sweetness.”
“It is true,” said the Eremite; “I also have been a captive.”
“Indeed! holy father. To the Infidels?”
“To the Infidels, gentle pilgrim.”
“Have you been at Adrianople?”
“My oppressors were not the Paynim,” replied the Eremite, “but they were enemies far more dire13, my own evil passions. Time was when my eye sparkled like thine, gentle pilgrim, and my heart was not as pure.”
“God is merciful,” said Iduna, “and without His aid, the strongest are but shadows.”
“Ever think so,” replied the Eremite, “and you will deserve rather His love than His mercy. Thirty long years have I spent in this solitude, meditating14 upon the past, and it is a theme yet fertile in instruction. My hours are never heavy, and memory is to me what action is to other men.”
“You have seen much, holy father?”
“And felt more. Yet you will perhaps think the result of all my experience very slight, for I can only say unto thee, trust not in thyself.”
“It is a great truth,” remarked Iduna, “and leads to a higher one.”
“Even so,” replied the Eremite. “We are full of wisdom in old age, as in winter this river is full of water, but the fire of youth, like the summer sun, dries up the stream.”
Iduna did not reply. The Eremite attracted her attention to a patch of cresses on the opposite bank of the stream. “Every morn I rise only to discover fresh instances of omnipotent15 benevolence,” he exclaimed. “Yesterday ye tasted my honey and my fish. To-day I can offer ye a fresh dainty. We will break our fast in this pleasant glen. Rest thou here, gentle youth, and I will summon thy brother to our meal. I fear me much he does not bear so contented16 a spirit as thyself.”
“He is older, and has seen more,” replied Iduna.
The Eremite shook his head, and leaning on his staff, returned to the cavern17. Iduna remained, seated on a mossy rock, listening to the awakening18 birds, and musing19 over the fate of Iskander. While she was indulging in this reverie, her name was called. She looked up with a blush, and beheld20 Nic?|us.
“How fares my gentle comrade?” inquired the Prince of Athens.
“As well as I hope you are, dear Nic?|us. We have been indeed fortunate in finding so kind a host.”
“I think I may now congratulate you on your safety,” said the Prince. “This unfrequented pass will lead us in two days to Epirus, nor do I indeed now fear pursuit.”
“Acts and not words must express in future how much we owe to you,” said Iduna. “My joy would be complete if my father only knew of our safety, and if our late companion were here to share it.”
“Fear not for my friend,” replied Nic?|us. “I have faith in the fortune of Iskander.”
“If any one could succeed under such circumstances, he doubtless is the man,” rejoined Iduna; “but it was indeed an awful crisis in his fate.”
“We can give him only our thoughts,” said Iduna, “and when we remember how much is dependent on his life, can they be cheerful?”
“Mine must be so, when I am in the presence of Iduna,” replied Nic?|us.
“Dear lady,” said the Prince of Athens, seating himself by her side, and stealing her gentle hand. “Pardon me, if an irrepressible feeling at this moment impels22 me to recur23 to a subject, which, I would fain hope, were not so unpleasing to you, as once unhappily you deemed it. O! Iduna, Iduna, best and dearest, we are once more together; once more I gaze upon that unrivalled form, and listen to the music of that matchless voice. I sought you, I perhaps violated my pledge, but I sought you in captivity and sorrow. Pardon me, pity me, Iduna! Oh! Iduna, if possible, love me!”
She turned away her head, she turned away her streaming eyes. “It is impossible not to love my deliverers,” she replied, in a low and tremulous voice, “even could he not prefer the many other claims to affection which are possessed24 by the Prince of Athens. I was not prepared for this renewal25 of a most painful subject, perhaps not under any circumstances, but least of all under those in which we now find ourselves.”
“Alas!” exclaimed the prince, “I can no longer control my passion. My life, not my happiness merely, depends upon Iduna becoming mine. Bear with me, my beloved, bear with me! Were you Nic?|us, you too would need forgiveness.”
“I beseech26 you, cease!” exclaimed Iduna, in a firmer voice; and, withdrawing her hand, she suddenly rose. “This is neither the time nor place for such conversation. I have not forgotten that, but a few days back, I was a hopeless captive, and that my life and fame are even now in danger. Great mercies have been vouchsafed27 to me; but still I perhaps need the hourly interposition of heavenly aid. Other than such worldly thoughts should fill my mind, and do. Dear Nic?|us,” she continued, in a more soothing28 tone, “you have nobly commenced a most heroic enterprise: fulfil it in like spirit.”
He would have replied; but at this moment the staff of the Eremite sounded among the rocks. Baffled, and dark with rage and passion, the Prince of Athens quitted Iduna, and strolled towards the upper part of the glen, to conceal29 his anger and disappointment.
“Eat, gentle youth,” said the Eremite. “Will not thy brother join us? What may be his name?”
“Nic?|us, holy father.”
“And thine?”
Iduna blushed and hesitated. At length, in her confusion, she replied, “Iskander.”
“Nic?|us,” called out the Eremite, “Iskander and myself await thee!”
Iduna trembled. She was agreeably surprised when the prince returned with a smiling countenance30, and joined in the meal, with many cheerful words.
“Now I propose,” said the Eremite, “that yourself and your brother Iskander should tarry with me some days, if, indeed, my simple fare have any temptation.”
“I thank thee, holy father,” replied Nic?|us, “but our affairs are urgent; nor indeed could I have tarried here at all, had it not been for my young Iskander here, who, as you may easily believe, is little accustomed to his late exertions31. But, indeed, towards sunset, we must proceed.”
“Bearing with us,” added Iduna, “a most grateful recollection of our host.”
“God be with ye, wherever ye may proceed,” replied the Eremite.
“My trust is indeed in Him,” rejoined Iduna.
点击收听单词发音
1 slumbers | |
睡眠,安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 tributary | |
n.支流;纳贡国;adj.附庸的;辅助的;支流的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 rivulet | |
n.小溪,小河 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 clumps | |
n.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的名词复数 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声v.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 mosses | |
n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 moss | |
n.苔,藓,地衣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 parasitical | |
adj. 寄生的(符加的) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 captivity | |
n.囚禁;被俘;束缚 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 dire | |
adj.可怕的,悲惨的,阴惨的,极端的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 meditating | |
a.沉思的,冥想的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 omnipotent | |
adj.全能的,万能的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 contented | |
adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 cavern | |
n.洞穴,大山洞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 musing | |
n. 沉思,冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 banish | |
vt.放逐,驱逐;消除,排除 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 impels | |
v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 recur | |
vi.复发,重现,再发生 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 renewal | |
adj.(契约)延期,续订,更新,复活,重来 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 beseech | |
v.祈求,恳求 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 vouchsafed | |
v.给予,赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 );允诺 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 soothing | |
adj.慰藉的;使人宽心的;镇静的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 exertions | |
n.努力( exertion的名词复数 );费力;(能力、权力等的)运用;行使 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |