When Hilda and himself turned away from the unfinished bust1, the sculptor2’s mind still dwelt upon the reminiscences which it suggested. “You have not seen Donatello recently,” he remarked, “and therefore cannot be aware how sadly he is changed.”
“No wonder!” exclaimed Hilda, growing pale.
The terrible scene which she had witnessed, when Donatello’s face gleamed out in so fierce a light, came back upon her memory, almost for the first time since she knelt at the confessional. Hilda, as is sometimes the case with persons whose delicate organization requires a peculiar3 safeguard, had an elastic4 faculty5 of throwing off such recollections as would be too painful for endurance. The first shock of Donatello’s and Miriam’s crime had, indeed, broken through the frail6 defence of this voluntary forgetfulness; but, once enabled to relieve herself of the ponderous7 anguish8 over which she had so long brooded, she had practised a subtile watchfulness9 in preventing its return.
“No wonder, do you say?” repeated the sculptor, looking at her with interest, but not exactly with surprise; for he had long suspected that Hilda had a painful knowledge of events which he himself little more than surmised10. “Then you know!—you have heard! But what can you possibly have heard, and through what channel?”
“Nothing!” replied Hilda faintly. “Not one word has reached my ears from the lips of any human being. Let us never speak of it again! No, no! never again!”
“And Miriam!” said Kenyon, with irrepressible interest. “Is it also forbidden to speak of her?”
“Hush! do not even utter her name! Try not to think of it!” Hilda whispered. “It may bring terrible consequences!”
“My dear Hilda!” exclaimed Kenyon, regarding her with wonder and deep sympathy. “My sweet friend, have you had this secret hidden in your delicate, maidenly11 heart, through all these many months! No wonder that your life was withering12 out of you.”
“It was so, indeed!” said Hilda, shuddering13. “Even now, I sicken at the recollection.”
“And how could it have come to your knowledge?” continued the sculptor. “But no matter! Do not torture yourself with referring to the subject. Only, if at any time it should be a relief to you, remember that we can speak freely together, for Miriam has herself suggested a confidence between us.”
“Miriam has suggested this!” exclaimed Hilda. “Yes, I remember, now, her advising that the secret should be shared with you. But I have survived the death struggle that it cost me, and need make no further revelations. And Miriam has spoken to you! What manner of woman can she be, who, after sharing in such a deed, can make it a topic of conversation with her friends?”
“Ah, Hilda,” replied Kenyon, “you do not know, for you could never learn it from your own heart, which is all purity and rectitude, what a mixture of good there may be in things evil; and how the greatest criminal, if you look at his conduct from his own point of view, or from any side point, may seem not so unquestionably guilty, after all. So with Miriam; so with Donatello. They are, perhaps, partners in what we must call awful guilt14; and yet, I will own to you,—when I think of the original cause, the motives15, the feelings, the sudden concurrence16 of circumstances thrusting them onward17, the urgency of the moment, and the sublime19 unselfishness on either part,—I know not well how to distinguish it from much that the world calls heroism20. Might we not render some such verdict as this?—‘Worthy of Death, but not unworthy of Love! ‘”
“Never!” answered Hilda, looking at the matter through the clear crystal medium of her own integrity. “This thing, as regards its causes, is all a mystery to me, and must remain so. But there is, I believe, only one right and one wrong; and I do not understand, and may God keep me from ever understanding, how two things so totally unlike can be mistaken for one another; nor how two mortal foes21, as Right and Wrong surely are, can work together in the same deed. This is my faith; and I should be led astray, if you could persuade me to give it up.”
“Alas for poor human nature, then!” said Kenyon sadly, and yet half smiling at Hilda’s unworldly and impracticable theory. “I always felt you, my dear friend, a terribly severe judge, and have been perplexed22 to conceive how such tender sympathy could coexist with the remorselessness of a steel blade. You need no mercy, and therefore know not how to show any.”
“That sounds like a bitter gibe,” said Hilda, with the tears springing into her eyes. “But I cannot help it. It does not alter my perception of the truth. If there be any such dreadful mixture of good and evil as you affirm,—and which appears to me almost more shocking than pure evil,—then the good is turned to poison, not the evil to wholesomeness23.”
The sculptor seemed disposed to say something more, but yielded to the gentle steadfastness24 with which Hilda declined to listen. She grew very sad; for a reference to this one dismal25 topic had set, as it were, a prison door ajar, and allowed a throng26 of torturing recollections to escape from their dungeons27 into the pure air and white radiance of her soul. She bade Kenyon a briefer farewell than ordinary, and went homeward to her tower.
In spite of her efforts to withdraw them to other subjects, her thoughts dwelt upon Miriam; and, as had not heretofore happened, they brought with them a painful doubt whether a wrong had not been committed on Hilda’s part, towards the friend once so beloved. Something that Miriam had said, in their final conversation, recurred28 to her memory, and seemed now to deserve more weight than Hilda had assigned to it, in her horror at the crime just perpetrated. It was not that the deed looked less wicked and terrible in the retrospect29; but she asked herself whether there were not other questions to be considered, aside from that single one of Miriam’s guilt or innocence30; as, for example, whether a close bond of friendship, in which we once voluntarily engage, ought to be severed31 on account of any unworthiness, which we subsequently detect in our friend. For, in these unions of hearts,—call them marriage, or whatever else,—we take each other for better for worse. Availing ourselves of our friend’s intimate affection, we pledge our own, as to be relied upon in every emergency. And what sadder, more desperate emergency could there be, than had befallen Miriam? Who more need the tender succor32 of the innocent, than wretches33 stained with guilt! And must a selfish care for the spotlessness of our own garments keep us from pressing the guilty ones close to our hearts, wherein, for the very reason that we are innocent, lies their securest refuge from further ill?
It was a sad thing for Hilda to find this moral enigma34 propounded35 to her conscience; and to feel that, whichever way she might settle it, there would be a cry of wrong on the other side. Still, the idea stubbornly came back, that the tie between Miriam and herself had been real, the affection true, and that therefore the implied compact was not to be shaken off.
“Miriam loved me well,” thought Hilda remorsefully36, “and I failed her at her sorest need.”
Miriam loved her well; and not less ardent37 had been the affection which Miriam’s warm, tender, and generous characteristics had excited in Hilda’s more reserved and quiet nature. It had never been extinguished; for, in part, the wretchedness which Hilda had since endured was but the struggle and writhing38 of her sensibility, still yearning39 towards her friend. And now, at the earliest encouragement, it awoke again, and cried out piteously, complaining of the violence that had been done it.
Recurring40 to the delinquencies of which she fancied (we say “fancied,” because we do not unhesitatingly adopt Hilda’s present view, but rather suppose her misled by her feelings)—of which she fancied herself guilty towards her friend, she suddenly remembered a sealed packet that Miriam had confided41 to her. It had been put into her hands with earnest injunctions of secrecy42 and care, and if unclaimed after a certain period, was to be delivered according to its address. Hilda had forgotten it; or, rather, she had kept the thought of this commission in the background of her consciousness, with all other thoughts referring to Miriam.
But now the recollection of this packet, and the evident stress which Miriam laid upon its delivery at the specified43 time, impelled44 Hilda to hurry up the staircase of her tower, dreading45 lest the period should already have elapsed.
No; the hour had not gone by, but was on the very point of passing. Hilda read the brief note of instruction, on a corner of the envelope, and discovered, that, in case of Miriam’s absence from Rome, the packet was to be taken to its destination that very day.
“How nearly I had violated my promise!” said Hilda. “And, since we are separated forever, it has the sacredness of an injunction from a dead friend. There is no time to be lost.”
So Hilda set forth46 in the decline of the afternoon, and pursued her way towards the quarter of the city in which stands the Palazzo Cenci. Her habit of self-reliance was so simply strong, so natural, and now so well established by long use, that the idea of peril47 seldom or never occurred to Hilda, in her lonely life.
She differed, in this particular, from the generality of her sex, —although the customs and character of her native land often produce women who meet the world with gentle fearlessness, and discover that its terrors have been absurdly exaggerated by the tradition of mankind. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the apprehensiveness48 of women is quite gratuitous49. Even as matters now stand, they are really safer in perilous50 situations and emergencies than men; and might be still more so, if they trusted themselves more confidingly51 to the chivalry52 of manhood. In all her wanderings about Rome, Hilda had gone and returned as securely as she had been accustomed to tread the familiar street of her New England village, where every face wore a look of recognition. With respect to whatever was evil, foul53, and ugly, in this populous54 and corrupt55 city, she trod as if invisible, and not only so, but blind. She was altogether unconscious of anything wicked that went along the same pathway, but without jostling or impeding56 her, any more than gross substance hinders the wanderings of a spirit. Thus it is, that, bad as the world is said to have grown, innocence continues to make a paradise around itself, and keep it still unfallen.
Hilda’s present expedition led her into what was—physically, at least—the foulest57 and ugliest part of Rome. In that vicinity lies the Ghetto58, where thousands of Jews are crowded within a narrow compass, and lead a close, unclean, and multitudinous life, resembling that of maggots when they over-populate a decaying cheese.
Hilda passed on the borders of this region, but had no occasion to step within it. Its neighborhood, however, naturally partook of characteristics ‘like its own. There was a confusion of black and hideous59 houses, piled massively out of the ruins of former ages; rude and destitute60 of plan, as a pauper61 would build his hovel, and yet displaying here and there an arched gateway62, a cornice, a pillar, or a broken arcade63, that might have adorned64 a palace. Many of the houses, indeed, as they stood, might once have been palaces, and possessed65 still a squalid kind of grandeur66. Dirt was everywhere, strewing67 the narrow streets, and incrusting the tall shabbiness of the edifices68, from the foundations to the roofs; it lay upon the thresholds, and looked out of the windows, and assumed the guise69 of human life in the children that Seemed to be engendered70 out of it. Their father was the sun, and their mother—a heap of Roman mud.
It is a question of speculative71 interest, whether the ancient Romans were as unclean a people as we everywhere find those who have succeeded them. There appears to be a kind of malignant72 spell in the spots that have been inhabited by these masters of the world, or made famous in their history; an inherited and inalienable curse, impelling73 their successors to fling dirt and defilement74 upon whatever temple, column, mined palace, or triumphal arch may be nearest at hand, and on every monument that the old Romans built. It is most probably a classic trait, regularly transmitted downward, and perhaps a little modified by the better civilization of Christianity; so that Caesar may have trod narrower and filthier75 ways in his path to the Capitol, than even those of modern Rome.
As the paternal76 abode77 of Beatrice, the gloomy old palace of the Cencis had an interest for Hilda, although not sufficiently78 strong, hitherto, to overcome the disheartening effect of the exterior79, and draw her over its threshold. The adjacent piazza80, of poor aspect, contained only an old woman selling roasted chestnuts81 and baked squash-seeds; she looked sharply at Hilda, and inquired whether she had lost her way.
“No,” said Hilda; “I seek the Palazzo Cenci.”
“Yonder it is, fair signorina,” replied the Roman matron. “If you wish that packet delivered, which I see in your hand, my grandson Pietro shall run with it for a baiocco. The Cenci palace is a spot of ill omen18 for young maidens82.”
Hilda thanked the old dame83, but alleged84 the necessity of doing her errand in person. She approached the front of the palace, which, with all its immensity, had but a mean appearance, and seemed an abode which the lovely shade of Beatrice would not be apt to haunt, unless her doom85 made it inevitable86. Some soldiers stood about the portal, and gazed at the brown-haired, fair-cheeked Anglo-Saxon girl, with approving glances, but not indecorously. Hilda began to ascend87 the staircase, three lofty flights of which were to be surmounted88, before reaching the door whither she was bound.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
bust
|
|
| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
sculptor
|
|
| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
elastic
|
|
| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
frail
|
|
| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
ponderous
|
|
| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
watchfulness
|
|
| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
surmised
|
|
| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
maidenly
|
|
| adj. 像处女的, 谨慎的, 稳静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
withering
|
|
| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
shuddering
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
guilt
|
|
| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
concurrence
|
|
| n.同意；并发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
onward
|
|
| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
omen
|
|
| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
sublime
|
|
| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
heroism
|
|
| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
foes
|
|
| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
perplexed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
wholesomeness
|
|
| 卫生性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
24
steadfastness
|
|
| n.坚定，稳当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
throng
|
|
| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
dungeons
|
|
| n.地牢( dungeon的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
recurred
|
|
| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
retrospect
|
|
| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
severed
|
|
| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
succor
|
|
| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
wretches
|
|
| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
enigma
|
|
| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
propounded
|
|
| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
remorsefully
|
|
| adv.极为懊悔地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
writhing
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
yearning
|
|
| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
recurring
|
|
| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
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： |
|
|
|
|
42
secrecy
|
|
| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
specified
|
|
| adj.特定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
impelled
|
|
| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
dreading
|
|
| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
apprehensiveness
|
|
| 忧虑感，领悟力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
gratuitous
|
|
| adj.无偿的，免费的；无缘无故的，不必要的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
perilous
|
|
| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
confidingly
|
|
| adv.信任地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
chivalry
|
|
| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
populous
|
|
| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
corrupt
|
|
| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
impeding
|
|
| a.(尤指坏事)即将发生的，临近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
foulest
|
|
| adj.恶劣的( foul的最高级 )；邪恶的；难闻的；下流的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
ghetto
|
|
| n.少数民族聚居区，贫民区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
destitute
|
|
| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
pauper
|
|
| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
gateway
|
|
| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
arcade
|
|
| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
adorned
|
|
| [计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
grandeur
|
|
| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
strewing
|
|
| v.撒在…上( strew的现在分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
edifices
|
|
| n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
guise
|
|
| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
engendered
|
|
| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
speculative
|
|
| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
malignant
|
|
| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
impelling
|
|
| adj.迫使性的，强有力的v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
defilement
|
|
| n.弄脏，污辱，污秽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
filthier
|
|
| filthy（肮脏的，污秽的）的比较级形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
76
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
exterior
|
|
| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
piazza
|
|
| n.广场；走廊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
chestnuts
|
|
| n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 )；栗色；栗树；栗色马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
maidens
|
|
| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
alleged
|
|
| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
doom
|
|
| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
ascend
|
|
| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
surmounted
|
|
| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |