The youthful cook was not alone in the big, low room—far from it. On one of the aged6 black oak settles that ran out at right angles from the hearth was seated Artamène de la Vergne, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and a riding-switch between his hands. He was regarding his friend’s occupation with much the same amused criticism which he had bestowed7 on Roland’s bedmaking in M. Charlot’s attic8 four months ago. And at least a dozen other gentlemen, some quite young, some in the thirties or forties, were also in the room, talking and laughing. For though the three treasure-seekers who had formed part of the smaller gathering9 at Hennebont were still missing, their places, as far as numbers went, were amply filled.
The projects which had been discussed with Georges Cadoudal on that occasion were in a fair way of realisation to-day. Finistère was in process of organisation10—at the cost of weeks of unremitting toil11 and danger, in which M. de Kersaint had personally traversed all the wildest districts of the department. As far as the promise of men went, the harvest was good, but, as usual, the pinch came over arming them—and Mirabel had not yet yielded up its treasure. The chief source of encouragement, however, lay in the aspect of the political situation: the effect produced by the numerous Austrian and Russian victories of the spring and summer—not yet indeed come to an end, for it was the eve of Novi; the weariness of the country, still groaning12 under a detested13 but tottering14 government; the hopes based on the important Royalist movement centred in Bordeaux, which embraced Toulouse and Languedoc, and not a little, too, on the revulsion caused by the cruel operation of the Law of Hostages of July 12, which actually forced recruits into the Chouan camp.
Of the other Royalist leaders many were still in England. And the Marquis de Kersaint was not advertising15 himself; with the means at his disposal—for in no one place could he hope to get together a really formidable force—his aim, when the time came, was to surprise rather than to defy. Weeks, however, would probably elapse before concerted action was taken, and meanwhile he had still to find most of the arms and ammunition16 required. And, though he had his staff round him here, his men, his gars, were, with certain exceptions, going about their usual avocations17, cultivating their farms or preparing for harvest. Only, one day, when the whisper went round, the hoe and sickle18 would lie idle in the fields, and he who had been a small farmer would turn up in the likeness19 of a brigand20 at the rallying-place—Galoppe-la-Frime or Frappe d’Abord the Chouan.
In one thing alone was M. de Kersaint singular, in that he already had a regular headquarters and was able to occupy it unmolested. Even Cadoudal and his subordinates in the Morbihan judged it prudent21 to leave theirs by night, and sleep dispersed22 in the forest. That M. de Kersaint and his officers could remain with impunity23 at the Clos-aux-Grives, that despatches found their way there and that it was the discreet24 centre of a continual going and coming of emissaries, as the work of organisation advanced towards completion, was owing to the fact that it stood in furthest Finistère, the most remote and untouched part of the intractable West. It was too difficult for the Blues25, as they were termed, to get at it.
And so, in this large farm-house, once a manoir, all but the superior officers of M. de Kersaint’s staff were awaiting their noontide meal this August day. The old greenish glass in the tiny panes26 admitted a tempered light, but the room was large enough to have windows on both sides, and it was a pleasant apartment. At night it was used as a dormitory by the younger officers, who slept on pallets on the floor, for which reason, and also because it was mainly ‘les jeunes’ who inhabited it at any time, M. du Ménars, acting27 second-in-command till the Comte de Brencourt’s return, had christened it ‘the nursery’—earning thereby28 small gratitude29 from Lucien and Artamène and their peers. On the long table, dark with the polish of ages, were set platters, horn spoons and forks, bowls of the cheerful Quimper ware30, and jugs31 of cider, but the meal, whatever its nature, seemed to be dependent on the boiling of Lucien’s pot, to which process, indeed, other eyes than Artamène’s were directed.
M. de la Vergne himself was moved at last to expostulate, though as a matter of fact he had only come into the ‘nursery’ five minutes before. Stretching out an arm, he tapped the pot with his switch, and said gently, “What is in this receptacle, my good Lucien? Stones?”
“I am sure I don’t know,” replied M. du Boisfossé in a rather exasperated32 voice. “They brought it in here from the kitchen, and said it would finish cooking nicely, if I would just see that the fire was kept up. And I’ve put sticks and sticks on the wretched thing——”
“And blacked your face into the bargain,” finished his friend brutally33. “I expect it is the mortal part of that superannuated34 cow I have seen about. . . . Never mind, time conquers all things, even cows. Put on yet more sticks, and while the old lady simmers I will tell you a piece of news. M. le Marquis is going to recall—you can guess whom!”
“Not our long-lost Roland?” exclaimed Lucien, starting up.
Artamène nodded. “If you agitate35 yourself, mon ami, you will knock your head against the hearth next. Yes, it appears that the convalescent adventurer has written him so penitent36 and piteous a letter from Kerlidec that our leader’s heart is softened37, and he is writing to tell Roland that he may rejoin us. You have heard, of course, gentlemen,” he went on, addressing a little group of newly-joined young officers who had strolled over to the hearth, “how our paladin was unhorsed at Roncesvalles—that is to say, winged by the guard of the enchanted38 castle of Mirabel. But he did not fall into the hands of the Saracens, like M. de Brencourt, his successor, for the princess who inhabits the same, in other words, the concierge39, taking pity on him, nursed and smuggled40 him out of Mirabel again to his relatives in Paris. Thence, when he was sufficiently41 recovered, the poor Roland returned home to, I am afraid, a very irate42 grandparent.—Keep the dowager going, Lucien!”
“And now you say that Charlemagne has relented, and is going to summon him here?” said Lucien, taking up his friend’s metaphor43. “What a mercy!”
“I suppose M. le Marquis has been anxious about M. de Céligny?” suggested one of the newcomers.
“Yes, very anxious—and more than anxious, exceedingly angry,” replied M. du Boisfossé. “Isn’t that so, Artamène.”
“Parbleu!” remarked M. de la Vergne, making a face.
“Because I had a hand in M. de Céligny’s enterprise,” explained Artamène, sighing gently. “I would fain have shared it altogether, but I was winged myself then. We planned it together in our retirement45 last spring—if what we had to leave so largely to chance can be said to have had a plan. And then, when Roland had set out, his grandfather wrote to the Marquis to know what had become of him, and M. le Marquis sent to me, and out it all came . . . at least, most of it. I said that Roland had gone to visit his cousins in Paris, which was true, but not, I must confess, the whole truth. If I may venture a counsel, gentlemen, to such of you as are newcomers, always tell the whole truth when you are dealing46 with M. le Marquis.”
“And when did you tell the whole truth, then, La Vergne?”
“When I came here,” replied Artamène. He beat a little tattoo47 on one boot with his riding-switch, and added in a feeling voice, but with a laugh in the corner of his eye, “—a memorable48 day.”
“Dies nefas,” commented Lucien.
“And M. de Kersaint was displeased49 with you?”
“Displeased!” exclaimed the culprit. “Had I possessed50 the gift of metamorphosis the shape of a mouse, a spider—of a gnat51, even—had speedily been mine.”
A laugh went round his audience.
“But,” objected someone, “I do not see in your case, Chevalier, the reason for this excessive wrath52 at which you hint.”
“Well, for one thing,” returned Artamène pensively53, “M. le Marquis had definitely forbidden either of us to go to Mirabel, whereas I . . . and my family . . . had certainly encouraged Roland’s expedition. Then the Marquis seemed to consider also that I had deceived him about Roland by merely telling him of his visit to those confounded cousins (which of course I did solely54 to shield Roland). In fact he characterised my conduct by a very unpleasant term which I am not going to repeat. (However, we have since made it up, Charlemagne and I.) And thirdly, to such of us as have seen them together, it is undeniable that between M. le Marquis and the Vicomte de Céligny there subsists——”
“Chut!” said the prudent Lucien, holding up a finger.
“Mais, au nom de Dieu, pourquoi chut?” demanded Artamène in a voice of injured innocence55. “I was merely going to say that there subsisted56 between them a special affection, of which I, for one, am not in the least jealous. What is the harm in that remark?”
Nobody present either condemned57 or absolved58 him, but one or two who in the spring had seen the couple together turned away to hide a smile.
“I still cannot quite understand,” remarked Lucien judicially59, “how this good fairy of a concierge came to be inhabiting Mirabel. I thought that the place was in the hands of the Directory, and surely their nominee——”
“We shall have to wait until the Abbé or M. de Brencourt returns to discover that,” said Artamène. “I gathered that M. le Marquis expects the latter any day now; it seems, from what the Abbé wrote, a foregone conclusion that he would succeed in escaping from the Temple.”
“How?” asked Lucien, his head almost in the procrastinating60 pot.
“Mainly by the use of the root of all evil, mon cher—in plainer language, by bribery61. I thought you knew that.”
“And M. le Comte did not get the treasure from Mirabel?” asked a newcomer.
“No, the booty is left to the Church to secure. And, do you know, I shall stake my money on the Church’s success.”
“I wish Roland could have got it,” murmured Lucien.
“So do I,” said Artamène. “So does . . . my family.” He got up and stretched himself. “But, dear me, we were very young last spring! I am older now, and wiser—much wiser. And as for poor Roland, he must have attained62 to such a pitch of sagacity that——” He suddenly stopped and remained fixed63, his arms extended, and, staring at an open casement64 said, “Morbleu, talk of the devil!”
“What is it?” exclaimed several voices, their owners following his gaze, while Lucien sprang up and had exactly that encounter with the overhanging hearth which his friend had predicted.
“May I be shot if that is not the Comte de Brencourt in person, just ridden into the courtyard!” And Artamène dashed to the window, followed by almost everybody else.
But in a moment he had turned away again, shaking his head. “Too late!” he said disappointedly. “He will go straight to M. le Marquis now. Besides, he did not look as if he would be communicative; he had his mouth shut like a strongbox.” And he regretfully strolled back to the fire, which the sedulous65 Lucien had not deserted66. “Good Heavens, philosopher, isn’t that soufflé of yours cooked yet?”
“I think,” said M. du Boisfossé, prodding67 about with a fork, one hand pressed to his head, “that I shall assume the process.”
点击收听单词发音
1 farmhouse | |
n.农场住宅(尤指主要住房) | |
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2 insistently | |
ad.坚持地 | |
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3 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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4 recessed | |
v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的过去式和过去分词 );将(墙)做成凹形,在(墙)上做壁龛;休息,休会,休庭 | |
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5 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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6 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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7 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8 attic | |
n.顶楼,屋顶室 | |
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9 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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10 organisation | |
n.组织,安排,团体,有机休 | |
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11 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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12 groaning | |
adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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13 detested | |
v.憎恶,嫌恶,痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14 tottering | |
adj.蹒跚的,动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 );踉跄;蹒跚;摇摇欲坠 | |
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15 advertising | |
n.广告业;广告活动 a.广告的;广告业务的 | |
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16 ammunition | |
n.军火,弹药 | |
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17 avocations | |
n.业余爱好,嗜好( avocation的名词复数 );职业 | |
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18 sickle | |
n.镰刀 | |
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19 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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20 brigand | |
n.土匪,强盗 | |
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21 prudent | |
adj.谨慎的,有远见的,精打细算的 | |
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22 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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23 impunity | |
n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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24 discreet | |
adj.(言行)谨慎的;慎重的;有判断力的 | |
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25 blues | |
n.抑郁,沮丧;布鲁斯音乐 | |
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26 panes | |
窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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27 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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28 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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29 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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30 ware | |
n.(常用复数)商品,货物 | |
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31 jugs | |
(有柄及小口的)水壶( jug的名词复数 ) | |
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32 exasperated | |
adj.恼怒的 | |
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33 brutally | |
adv.残忍地,野蛮地,冷酷无情地 | |
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34 superannuated | |
adj.老朽的,退休的;v.因落后于时代而废除,勒令退学 | |
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35 agitate | |
vi.(for,against)煽动,鼓动;vt.搅动 | |
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36 penitent | |
adj.后悔的;n.后悔者;忏悔者 | |
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37 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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38 enchanted | |
adj. 被施魔法的,陶醉的,入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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39 concierge | |
n.管理员;门房 | |
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40 smuggled | |
水货 | |
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41 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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42 irate | |
adj.发怒的,生气 | |
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43 metaphor | |
n.隐喻,暗喻 | |
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44 enquirer | |
寻问者,追究者 | |
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45 retirement | |
n.退休,退职 | |
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46 dealing | |
n.经商方法,待人态度 | |
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47 tattoo | |
n.纹身,(皮肤上的)刺花纹;vt.刺花纹于 | |
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48 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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49 displeased | |
a.不快的 | |
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50 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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51 gnat | |
v.对小事斤斤计较,琐事 | |
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52 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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53 pensively | |
adv.沉思地,焦虑地 | |
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54 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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55 innocence | |
n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
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56 subsisted | |
v.(靠很少的钱或食物)维持生活,生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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58 absolved | |
宣告…无罪,赦免…的罪行,宽恕…的罪行( absolve的过去式和过去分词 ); 不受责难,免除责任 [义务] ,开脱(罪责) | |
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59 judicially | |
依法判决地,公平地 | |
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60 procrastinating | |
拖延,耽搁( procrastinate的现在分词 ); 拖拉 | |
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61 bribery | |
n.贿络行为,行贿,受贿 | |
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62 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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63 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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64 casement | |
n.竖铰链窗;窗扉 | |
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65 sedulous | |
adj.勤勉的,努力的 | |
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66 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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67 prodding | |
v.刺,戳( prod的现在分词 );刺激;促使;(用手指或尖物)戳 | |
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