It is with a kindred sentiment, that we now follow the course of our story back through the Flaminian Gate, and, treading our way to the Via Portoghese, climb the staircase to the upper chamber16 of the tower where we last saw Hilda.
Hilda all along intended to pass the summer in Rome; for she had laid out many high and delightful17 tasks, which she could the better complete while her favorite haunts were deserted18 by the multitude that thronged19 them throughout the winter and early spring. Nor did she dread20 the summer atmosphere, although generally held to be so pestilential. She had already made trial of it, two years before, and found no worse effect than a kind of dreamy languor21, which was dissipated by the first cool breezes that came with autumn. The thickly populated centre of the city, indeed, is never affected22 by the feverish23 influence that lies in wait in the Campagna, like a besieging24 foe25, and nightly haunts those beautiful lawns and woodlands, around the suburban26 villas27, just at the season when they most resemble Paradise. What the flaming sword was to the first Eden, such is the malaria28 to these sweet gardens and grove29. We may wander through them, of an afternoon, it is true, but they cannot be made a home and a reality, and to sleep among them is death. They are but illusions, therefore, like the show of gleaming waters and shadowy foliage30 in a desert.
But Rome, within the walls, at this dreaded31 season, enjoys its festal days, and makes itself merry with characteristic and hereditary32 pas-times, for which its broad piazzas33 afford abundant room. It leads its own life with a freer spirit, now that the artists and foreign visitors are scattered34 abroad. No bloom, perhaps, would be visible in a cheek that should be unvisited, throughout the summer, by more invigorating winds than any within fifty miles of the city; no bloom, but yet, if the mind kept its healthy energy, a subdued35 and colorless well-being36. There was consequently little risk in Hilda’s purpose to pass the summer days in the galleries of Roman palaces, and her nights in that aerial chamber, whither the heavy breath of the city and its suburbs could not aspire37. It would probably harm her no more than it did the white doves, who sought the same high atmosphere at sunset, and, when morning came, flew down into the narrow streets, about their daily business, as Hilda likewise did.
With the Virgin’s aid and blessing38, which might be hoped for even by a heretic, who so religiously lit the lamp before her shrine39, the New England girl would sleep securely in her old Roman tower, and go forth40 on her pictorial41 pilgrimages without dread or peril42. In view of such a summer, Hilda had anticipated many months of lonely, but unalloyed enjoyment43. Not that she had a churlish disinclination to society, or needed to be told that we taste one intellectual pleasure twice, and with double the result, when we taste it with a friend. But, keeping a maiden44 heart within her bosom45, she rejoiced in the freedom that enabled her still to choose her own sphere, and dwell in it, if she pleased, without another inmate46.
Her expectation, however, of a delightful summer was woefully disappointed. Even had she formed no previous plan of remaining there, it is improbable that Hilda would have gathered energy to stir from Rome. A torpor49, heretofore unknown to her vivacious50 though quiet temperament51, had possessed52 itself of the poor girl, like a half-dead serpent knotting its cold, inextricable wreaths about her limbs. It was that peculiar53 despair, that chill and heavy misery54, which only the innocent can experience, although it possesses many of the gloomy characteristics that mark a sense of guilt55. It was that heartsickness, which, it is to be hoped, we may all of us have been pure enough to feel, once in our lives, but the capacity for which is usually exhausted56 early, and perhaps with a single agony. It was that dismal57 certainty of the existence of evil in the world, which, though we may fancy ourselves fully47 assured of the sad mystery long before, never becomes a portion of our practical belief until it takes substance and reality from the sin of some guide, whom we have deeply trusted and revered58, or some friend whom we have dearly loved.
When that knowledge comes, it is as if a cloud had suddenly gathered over the morning light; so dark a cloud, that there seems to be no longer any sunshine behind it or above it. The character of our individual beloved one having invested itself with all the attributes of right,—that one friend being to us the symbol and representative of whatever is good and true,—when he falls, the effect is almost as if the sky fell with him, bringing down in chaotic59 ruin the columns that upheld our faith. We struggle forth again, no doubt, bruised60 and bewildered. We stare wildly about us, and discover—or, it may be, we never make the discovery—that it was not actually the sky that has tumbled down, but merely a frail61 structure of our own rearing, which never rose higher than the housetops, and has fallen because we founded it on nothing. But the crash, and the affright and trouble, are as overwhelming, for the time, as if the catastrophe62 involved the whole moral world. Remembering these things, let them suggest one generous motive63 for walking heedfully amid the defilement64 of earthly ways! Let us reflect, that the highest path is pointed48 out by the pure Ideal of those who look up to us, and who, if we tread less loftily, may never look so high again.
Hilda’s situation was made infinitely65 more wretched by the necessity of Confining all her trouble within her own consciousness. To this innocent girl, holding the knowledge of Miriam’s crime within her tender and delicate soul, the effect was almost the same as if she herself had participated in the guilt. Indeed, partaking the human nature of those who could perpetrate such deeds, she felt her own spotlessness impugnent.
Had there been but a single friend,—or not a friend, since friends were no longer to be confided66 in, after Miriam had betrayed her trust,—but, had there been any calm, wise mind, any sympathizing intelligence; or, if not these, any dull, half-listening ear into which she might have flung the dreadful secret, as into an echoless cavern67, what a relief would have ensued! But this awful loneliness! It enveloped68 her whithersoever she went. It was a shadow in the sunshine of festal days; a mist between her eyes and the pictures at which she strove to look; a chill dungeon69, which kept her in its gray twilight70 and fed her with its unwholesome air, fit only for a criminal to breathe and pine in! She could not escape from it. In the effort to do so, straying farther into the intricate passages of our nature, she stumbled, ever and again, over this deadly idea of mortal guilt.
Poor sufferer for another’s sin! Poor wellspring of a virgin’s heart, into which a murdered corpse had casually71 fallen, and whence it could not be drawn72 forth again, but lay there, day after day, night after night, tainting73 its sweet atmosphere with the scent74 of crime and ugly death!
The strange sorrow that had befallen Hilda did not fail to impress its mysterious seal upon her face, and to make itself perceptible to sensitive observers in her manner and carriage. A young Italian artist, who frequented the same galleries which Hilda haunted, grew deeply interested in her expression. One day, while she stood before Leonardo da Vinci’s picture of Joanna of Aragon, but evidently without seeing it,—for, though it had attracted her eyes, a fancied resemblance to Miriam had immediately drawn away her thoughts,—this artist drew a hasty sketch75 which he afterwards elaborated into a finished portrait. It represented Hilda as gazing with sad and earnest horror at a bloodspot which she seemed just then to have discovered on her white robe. The picture attracted considerable notice. Copies of an engraving76 from it may still be found in the print shops along the Corso. By many connoisseurs77, the idea of the face was supposed to have been suggested by the portrait of Beatrice Cenci; and, in fact, there was a look somewhat similar to poor Beatrice’s forlorn gaze out of the dreary isolation78 and remoteness, in which a terrible doom79 had involved a tender soul. But the modern artist strenuously80 upheld the originality81 of his own picture, as well as the stainless82 purity its subject, and chose to call it—and was laughed at for his pains—“Innocence83, dying of a Blood-stain!”
“Your picture, Signore Panini, does you credit,” remarked the picture dealer84, who had bought it of the young man for fifteen scudi, and afterwards sold it for ten times the sum; “but it would be worth a better price if you had given it a more intelligible85 title. Looking at the face and expression of this fair signorina, we seem to comprehend readily enough, that she is undergoing one or another of those troubles of the heart to which young ladies are but too liable. But what is this blood-stain? And what has innocence to do with it? Has she stabbed her perfidious86 lover with a bodkin?”
“She! she commit a crime!” cried the young artist. “Can you look at the innocent anguish87 in her face, and ask that question? No; but, as I read the mystery, a man has been slain88 in her presence, and the blood, spurting89 accidentally on her white robe, has made a stain which eats into her life.”
“Then, in the name of her patron saint,” exclaimed the picture dealer, “why don’t she get the robe made white again at the expense of a few baiocchi to her washerwoman? No, no, my dear Panini. The picture being now my property, I shall call it ‘The Signorina’s Vengeance90.’ She has stabbed her lover overnight, and is repenting91 it betimes the next morning. So interpreted, the picture becomes an intelligible and very natural representation of a not uncommon92 fact.”
Thus coarsely does the world translate all finer griefs that meet its eye. It is more a coarse world than an unkind one.
But Hilda sought nothing either from the world’s delicacy93 or its pity, and never dreamed of its misinterpretations. Her doves often flew in through the windows of the tower, winged messengers, bringing her what sympathy they could, and uttering soft, tender, and complaining sounds, deep in their bosoms94, which soothed95 the girl more than a distincter utterance96 might. And sometimes Hilda moaned quietly among the doves, teaching her voice to accord with theirs, and thus finding a temporary relief from the burden of her incommunicable sorrow, as if a little portion of it, at least, had been told to these innocent friends, and been understood and pitied.
When she trimmed the lamp before the Virgin’s shrine, Hilda gazed at the sacred image, and, rude as was the workmanship, beheld97, or fancied, expressed with the quaint98, powerful simplicity99 which sculptors100 sometimes had five hundred years ago, a woman’s tenderness responding to her gaze. If she knelt, if she prayed, if her oppressed heart besought101 the sympathy of divine womanhood afar in bliss102, but not remote, because forever humanized by the memory of mortal griefs, was Hilda to be blamed? It was not a Catholic kneeling at an idolatrous shrine, but a child lifting its tear-stained face to seek comfort from a mother.
点击收听单词发音
1 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 crooked | |
adj.弯曲的;不诚实的,狡猾的,不正当的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 lava | |
n.熔岩,火山岩 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 ascend | |
vi.渐渐上升,升高;vt.攀登,登上 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 regiments | |
(军队的)团( regiment的名词复数 ); 大量的人或物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 cavalry | |
n.骑兵;轻装甲部队 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 cardinals | |
红衣主教( cardinal的名词复数 ); 红衣凤头鸟(见于北美,雄鸟为鲜红色); 基数 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 ravenous | |
adj.极饿的,贪婪的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 uprooted | |
v.把(某物)连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 );根除;赶走;把…赶出家园 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 pretence | |
n.假装,作假;借口,口实;虚伪;虚饰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 corrupted | |
(使)败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)腐化; 引起(计算机文件等的)错误; 破坏 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 myriads | |
n.无数,极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 anathema | |
n.诅咒;被诅咒的人(物),十分讨厌的人(物) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 thronged | |
v.成群,挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 languor | |
n.无精力,倦怠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 besieging | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 foe | |
n.敌人,仇敌 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 suburban | |
adj.城郊的,在郊区的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 villas | |
别墅,公馆( villa的名词复数 ); (城郊)住宅 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 malaria | |
n.疟疾 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 dreaded | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 piazzas | |
n.广场,市场( piazza的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 well-being | |
n.安康,安乐,幸福 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 aspire | |
vi.(to,after)渴望,追求,有志于 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 pictorial | |
adj.绘画的;图片的;n.画报 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 peril | |
n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 inmate | |
n.被收容者;(房屋等的)居住人;住院人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 torpor | |
n.迟钝;麻木;(动物的)冬眠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 vivacious | |
adj.活泼的,快活的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 revered | |
v.崇敬,尊崇,敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 chaotic | |
adj.混沌的,一片混乱的,一团糟的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 bruised | |
[医]青肿的,瘀紫的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 catastrophe | |
n.大灾难,大祸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 defilement | |
n.弄脏,污辱,污秽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 confided | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的过去式和过去分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 cavern | |
n.洞穴,大山洞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 enveloped | |
v.包围,笼罩,包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 dungeon | |
n.地牢,土牢 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 casually | |
adv.漠不关心地,无动于衷地,不负责任地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 tainting | |
v.使变质( taint的现在分词 );使污染;败坏;被污染,腐坏,败坏 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 sketch | |
n.草图;梗概;素描;v.素描;概述 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 engraving | |
n.版画;雕刻(作品);雕刻艺术;镌版术v.在(硬物)上雕刻(字,画等)( engrave的现在分词 );将某事物深深印在(记忆或头脑中) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 connoisseurs | |
n.鉴赏家,鉴定家,行家( connoisseur的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 isolation | |
n.隔离,孤立,分解,分离 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 strenuously | |
adv.奋发地,费力地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 originality | |
n.创造力,独创性;新颖 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 stainless | |
adj.无瑕疵的,不锈的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 innocence | |
n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 dealer | |
n.商人,贩子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 intelligible | |
adj.可理解的,明白易懂的,清楚的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 perfidious | |
adj.不忠的,背信弃义的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 slain | |
杀死,宰杀,杀戮( slay的过去分词 ); (slay的过去分词) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 spurting | |
(液体,火焰等)喷出,(使)涌出( spurt的现在分词 ); (短暂地)加速前进,冲刺; 溅射 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 repenting | |
对(自己的所为)感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
93 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
94 bosoms | |
胸部( bosom的名词复数 ); 胸怀; 女衣胸部(或胸襟); 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
95 soothed | |
v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
96 utterance | |
n.用言语表达,话语,言语 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
97 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: |
|
|
98 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
99 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
100 sculptors | |
雕刻家,雕塑家( sculptor的名词复数 ); [天]玉夫座 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
101 besought | |
v.恳求,乞求(某事物)( beseech的过去式和过去分词 );(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
102 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |