A small bright fire burned in the grate, and all around were the ashes of burnt papers. For an hour he had been feeding the flames. One phase of his life was over; there might be another, but it was well to have done with this one first. Letters from friends, dead now or alienated6; letters of congratulation, of praise that had inspired his younger ambitions; letters from brilliant men and some from beautiful women,—all had met a common fate. Why should these records, be preserved for the curious eye of unsympathetic posterity7? If he perished, the world might forget him, and welcome; if he lived, his life would henceforth be within the province of the historian. A single note, preserved from the general destruction, lay on the table beside him. It was the one with which Lucile had accompanied her invitation to the State Ball, the only one he had ever received from her.
As he balanced it in his fingers, his thoughts drifted away from the busy hard realities of life to that kindred soul and lovely face. That episode too was over. A barrier stood between them. Whatever the result of the revolt, she was lost to him, unless—and that terrible unless was pregnant with suggestions of such awful wickedness that his mind recoiled8 from it as a man's hand starts from some filthy9 thing he has by inadvertence touched. There were sins, sins against the commonwealth10 of mankind, against the phenomenon of life itself, the stigma11 of which would cling through death, and for which there was pardon only in annihilation. Yet he hated Molara with a fierce hatred12; nor did he care to longer hide from himself the reason. And with the recollection of the reason his mind reverted13 to a softer mood. Would he ever see her again? Even the sound of her name pleased him; "Lucile," he whispered sadly.
There was a quick step outside; the door opened, and she stood before him. He sprang up in mute astonishment14.
Lucile looked greatly embarrassed. Her mission was a delicate one. Indeed she did not know her own mind, or did not care to know it. It was for her husband's sake, she said to herself; but the words she spoke15 belied16 her. "I have come to tell you that I did not betray your secret."
"I know,—I never feared," replied Savrola.
"How do you know?"
"I have not yet been arrested."
"No, but he suspects."
"Suspects what?"
"That you are conspiring17 against the Republic."
"Oh!" said Savrola, greatly relieved; "he has no proofs."
"To-morrow he may have."
"To-morrow will be too late."
"Too late?"
"Yes," said Savrola; "the game begins to-night." He took out his watch; it was a quarter to eleven.
"At twelve o'clock you will hear the alarm-bells. Sit down, and let us talk."
Lucile sat down mechanically.
"You love me," he said in an even voice, looking at her dispassionately, and as if the whole subject of their relations was but a psychological problem, "and I love you." There was no answer; he continued: "But we must part. In this world we are divided, nor do I see how the barrier can be removed. All my life I shall think of you; no other woman can ever fill the empty space. Ambitions I still have: I always had them; but love I am not to know, or to know it only to my vexation and despair. I will put it away from me, and henceforth my affections will be as lifeless as those burnt papers. And you,—will you forget? In the next few hours I may be killed; if so, do not allow yourself to mourn. I do not care to be remembered for what I was. If I have done anything that may make the world more happy, more cheerful, more comfortable, let them recall the action. If I have spoken a thought which, rising above the vicissitudes19 of our existence, may make life brighter or death less gloomy, then let them say, 'He said this or he did that.' Forget the man; remember, perhaps, his work. Remember too that you have known a soul, somewhere amid the puzzles of the universe, the complement20 of your own; and then forget. Summon your religion to your aid; anticipate the moment of forgetting; live, and leave the past alone. Can you do this?"
"Never!" she answered passionately18. "I will never forget you!"
"We are but poor philosophers," he said. "Pain and love make sport of us and all our theories. We cannot conquer ourselves or rise above our state."
"Why should we try?" she whispered, looking at him with wild eyes.
He saw and trembled. Then, with the surge of impulse, he cried, "My God, how I love you!" and before she could frame a resolution or even choose her mind, they had kissed each other.
The handle of the door turned quickly. Both started back. The door swung open and the President appeared. He was in plain clothes, his right hand concealed21 behind his back. Miguel followed from out of the darkness of the passage.
For a moment there was silence. Then Molara in a furious voice broke out: "So, Sir, you attack me in this way also,—coward and scoundrel!" He raised his hand and pointed22 the revolver it held full at his enemy.
Lucile, feeling that the world had broken up, fell back against the sofa, stunned23 with terror. Savrola rose and faced the President. Then she saw what a brave man he was, for as he did so he contrived24 to stand between the weapon and herself. "Put down your pistol," he said in a firm voice; "and you shall have an explanation."
"I will put it down," said Molara, "when I have killed you."
Savrola measured the distance between them with his eye. Could he spring in under the shot? Again he looked at the table where his own revolver lay. He shielded her, and he decided25 to stand still.
"Down on your knees and beg for mercy, you hound; down, or I will blow your face in!"
"I have always tried to despise death, and have always succeeded in despising you. I shall bow to neither."
"We shall see," said Molara, grinding his teeth. "I shall count five,—one!"
There was a pause. Savrola looked at the pistol barrel, a black spot encircled by a ring of bright steel; all the rest of the picture was a blank.
"Two!" counted the President.
So he was to die,—flash off this earth when that black spot burst into flame. He anticipated the blow full in his face; and beyond he saw nothing,—annihilation,—black, black night.
"Three!"
He could just see the rifling of the barrel; the lands showed faintly. That was a wonderful invention—to make the bullet spin as it travelled. He imagined it churning his brain with hideous26 energy. He tried to think, to take one grip of his philosophy or faith before the plunge27; but his physical sensations were too violent. To the tips of his fingers he tingled28, as the blood surged through his veins29; the palms of his hands felt hot.
"Four!"
Lucile sprang up, and with a cry threw herself in front of the President "Wait, wait!" she cried. "Have mercy!"
Molara met her look, and in those eyes read more than terror. Then at last he understood; he started as though he had caught hold of red-hot iron. "My God! it's true!" he gasped30. "Strumpet!" he cried, as he pushed her from him, striking her with the back of his left hand in the mouth. She shrank into the far corner of the room. He saw it all now. Hoist31 with his own petard he had lost everything. Wild fury took hold of him and shook him till his throat rattled32 and ached. She had deserted33 him; power was slipping from his grasp; his rival, his enemy, the man he hated with all his soul was everywhere triumphant34. He had walked into the trap only to steal the bait; but he should not escape. There was a limit to prudence35 and to the love of life. His plans, his hopes, the roar of an avenging36 crowd, all faded from his mind. Death should wipe out the long score that stood between them, death which settled all,—now on the instant. But he had been a soldier, and was ever a practical man in the detail of life. He lowered the pistol and deliberately37 cocked it; single action would make certainty more sure; then he took good aim.
Savrola, seeing that the moment was upon him, lowered his head and sprang forward.
The President fired.
But Miguel's quick intelligence had appreciated the changed situation, and he remembered that there were consequences. He saw that the trick had become deadly earnest, and he did not forget the mob. He struck the pistol up, and the bullet, by a very little, flew high.
In the smoke and the flash Savrola closed with his adversary38 and bore him to the ground. Molara fell underneath39 and with the concussion40 dropped the revolver. The other seized it, wrenched41 himself clear, and sprang back and away from the prostrate42 figure. For a moment he stood there and watched, while the hungry lust43 of killing44 rose in his heart and made his trigger-finger itch45. Then very slowly the President rose. The fall had dazed him; he leaned against the book-case and groaned46.
Below there was a beating at the front door. Molara turned towards Lucile, who still cowered47 in the corner of the room, and began to revile48 her. The common, ugly material of his character showed through the veneer49 and polish that varied50 intercourse51 and the conduct of great affairs had superimposed. His words were not fit to hear, nor worth remembering; but they stung her to the quick and she rejoined defiantly52: "You knew I was here; you told me to come! You have laid a trap; the fault is yours!" Molara replied by a filthy taunt53. "I am innocent," she cried; "though I love him, I am innocent! Why did you tell me to come here?"
Savrola began to perceive dimly. "I do not know," he said, "what villainy you have contrived. I have wronged you too much to care to have your blood on my head; but go, and go quickly; I will not endure your foulness54. Go!"
The President was now recovering his calmness. "I should have shot you myself," he said, "but I will have it done by a platoon of soldiers,—five soldiers and a corporal."
"Why did you stop me, Miguel?"
"It is as he says, Your Excellency," replied the Secretary. "It would have been a tactical error."
The official manner, the style of address, the man's composure, restored the President to his senses. He walked towards the door and stopping at the sideboard helped himself to a glass of brandy with ostentation56. "Confiscated," he said, and held it up to the light, "by order of the Government." He swallowed it. "I will see you shot to-morrow," he added, heedless that the other held the pistol.
"I shall be at the Mayoralty," said Savrola; "you may come and fetch me if you dare."
"Revolt!" said the President. "Pooh! I will stamp it out, and you too, before the sun has gone down."
"Perhaps there may be another ending to the tale."
"One or the other," said the President. "You have robbed me of my honour; you are plotting to rob me of my power. There is not room for both of us in the world. You may take your mistress with you to hell."
There was a noise of hasty footsteps on the stairs; Lieutenant57 Tiro flung open the door, but stopped abruptly58 in astonishment at the occupants of the room. "I heard a shot," he said.
"Yes," answered the President; "there has been an accident, but luckily no harm was done. Will you please accompany me to the palace? Miguel, come!"
"You had better be quick, Sir," said the Subaltern. "There are many strange folk about to-night, and they are building a barricade59 at the end of the street."
"Indeed?" said the President. "It is time we took steps to stop them. Good-night, Sir," he added, turning to Savrola; "we shall meet to-morrow and finish our discussion."
But Savrola, revolver in hand, looked at him steadily60 and let him go in silence, a silence that for a space Lucile's sobs61 alone disturbed. At length, when the retreating footsteps had died away and the street door had closed, she spoke. "I cannot stop here."
"You cannot go back to the palace."
"What am I to do, then?"
Savrola reflected. "You had better stay here for the present. The house is at your disposal, and you will be alone. I must go at once to the Mayoralty; already I am late,—it is close on twelve,—the moment approaches. Besides, Molara will send policemen, and I have duties to discharge which I cannot avoid. To-night the streets are too dangerous. Perhaps I shall return in the morning."
The tragedy had stunned them both. A bitter remorse62 filled Savrola's heart. Her life was ruined,—was he the cause? He could not say how far he was guilty or innocent; but the sadness of it all was unaltered, no matter who might be at fault. "Good-bye," he said rising. "I must go, though I leave my heart behind. Much depends on me,—the lives of friends, the liberties of a nation."
And so he departed to play a great game in the face of all the world, to struggle for those ambitions which form the greater part of man's interest in life; while she, a woman, miserable63 and now alone, had no resource but to wait.
And then suddenly the bells began to ring all over the city with quick impatient strokes. There was the sound of a far-off bugle-call and a dull report,—the boom of an alarm-gun. The tumult64 grew; the roll of a drum beating the assembly was heard at the end of the street; confused shoutings and cries rose from many quarters. At length one sound was heard which put an end to all doubts,—tap, tap, tap, like the subdued65 slamming of many wooden boxes—the noise of distant musketry.
The revolution had begun.
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1
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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3
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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4
omissions
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| n.省略( omission的名词复数 )；删节；遗漏；略去或漏掉的事（或人） | |
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5
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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6
alienated
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| adj.感到孤独的，不合群的v.使疏远( alienate的过去式和过去分词 )；使不友好；转让；让渡（财产等） | |
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7
posterity
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| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
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8
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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9
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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10
commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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11
stigma
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| n.耻辱，污名；(花的)柱头 | |
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12
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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13
reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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14
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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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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16
belied
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| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
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17
conspiring
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| 密谋( conspire的现在分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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18
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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19
vicissitudes
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| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
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20
complement
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| n.补足物，船上的定员；补语；vt.补充，补足 | |
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21
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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22
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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23
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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24
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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25
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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26
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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27
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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28
tingled
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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30
gasped
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| 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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31
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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32
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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33
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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34
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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35
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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36
avenging
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| adj.报仇的，复仇的v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的现在分词 )；为…报复 | |
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37
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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38
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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39
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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40
concussion
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| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
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41
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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42
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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43
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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44
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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45
itch
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| n.痒，渴望，疥癣；vi.发痒，渴望 | |
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46
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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47
cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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48
revile
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| v.辱骂，谩骂 | |
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49
veneer
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| n.(墙上的)饰面，虚饰 | |
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50
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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51
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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52
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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53
taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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54
foulness
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| n. 纠缠, 卑鄙 | |
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55
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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56
ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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57
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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58
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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59
barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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60
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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61
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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62
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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63
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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64
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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65
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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