—Swinburne.
You all know that funny little inn at St. Denis, on what was then the main road between Paris and Havre; it stands sheltered against north and east winds by a towering bouquet3 of mighty4 oaks, which were there, believe me—though mayhap not quite so gnarled and so battered5 by storms of wind and thunder as they are now—in the April of that year 1678.
The upper story gabled and raftered hung then as now quite askew6 above its lower companion, and the door even in those days was in perpetual warfare7 with its own arched lintel, and refused to meet it in a spirit of friendly propinquity. The Seine winds its turgid curves in the rear of the building with nothing between it and the outer walls only the tow path always ankle deep in mud.
The view out and across the winding8 river is only interesting to the lover of colour and of space, for there are no romantic hills, no rugged9 crags or fir-crowned plateaus to delight the eye. Only a few melancholy10 acacias sigh and crackle in the wind and tall poplars rear their majestic11 heads up to the vast expanse of sky.
Now elegant villas12 and well-trimmed gardens fill the space over which two hundred and forty years ago the eye wandered seeking in vain for signs of human habitation. Rank grass covered the earth, and close to the water's edge clumps13 of reeds gave shelter to water rats and birds.
[203] Through the small dormer window just beneath the gable, Michael Kestyon looked out upon the melancholy landscape and found it exquisitely14 fair.
The wind howled down the wide chimney and sighed drearily16 through the reeds, whereon the spring had not yet thrown her delicate tints17 of green; but Michael thought the sound divine, for it mingled18 in his ear with the tones of a fresh, young voice which had prattled20 gaily21 on throughout supper-time, of past and of future—not of the present, for that was sacred, too sacred even for her words.
She was a little tired at first, when he lifted her off the saddle, and the amiable22 hostess of the ramshackle inn took charge of her and saw to her comforts. But after a little rest in her room, she came and joined him in the stuffy23 parlour, the window of which gave on that far horizon, beyond which lay the sea, England and home.
She seemed a little scared when she found herself quite alone with him, without maman or papa to interrupt the tête-à-tête. She was so young, and oh! how tender and fragile she appeared to him, as she came forward a little timidly, with great, blue eyes opened wide, wherein her pure love fought with her timidity.
Her whole appearance, her expression of face as she yielded her hand to him, and allowed him to draw her closer ever closer to his heart, made appeal to all that was best, most humbly24 reverent25 within him.
Rose Marie was home to him, she was joy and she was peace, and he, the homeless, the joyless, the insubordinate wastrel26, felt a wave of infinite tenderness, a tenderness which purified his love, and laid ardent27 passion to rest.
He led her to the window, and throwing it wide open, he knelt down beside her there in the embrasure. She sat on the narrow window seat, looking out on that vast ex[204]panse of sky and land whereon the shadows of evening had thrown a veil of exquisite15 sadness and peace. The bare branches of the acacias as yet only tipped with tiny flecks28 of green moaned softly beneath the kiss of the breezes. Banks of clouds lashed29 into activity by the wind hurried swiftly past, out towards the unseen ocean, now obscuring the moon, now revealing her magic beauty, more transcendent and glorious after those brief spells of mystery conquered and of darkness subdued30. Michael said very little. There was so little that he could say, which was not now a lie. He could not speak to her of his home, for home to him had been a miserable31 garret under the grimy roof of a house of disrepute, shared with others as miserable, as homeless as himself. He could not speak to her of friends, for of these he had none, only the depraved companions of a dissolute past, nor could he speak of kindred, unless he told her that it was because his mother was dying of hunger in a wretched hovel that he had spoken the mighty lie and taken payment for speaking it.
I would not have you think that even now Michael felt any remorse33 for what he had done. He was not a man to act first and blush for his actions afterwards. He knew his action to be vile34, but then he had known that ere he committed it, and knowing it had deliberately35 taken his course. Were it to be done all over again, he would do it; since she never could be his save by the great lie and the monstrous36 trick, then the lie must be spoken and the trick accomplished37. For she meant love and purification; she meant the re-awakening of all that was holy in him and which the Creator infuses in every man be he cast into this world in a gutter38 or upon a throne.
And he would make her happy, for he had gained her love, and a woman such as she hath but one love to give.[205] She would never have loved Stowmaries, and not loving, she would have been unhappy. He had taken upon himself the outer shell of another man, and that was all; just another man's name, title and past history, nothing more. But it was his personality which had conquered her, his love which had roused hers. She loved—not an Earl of Stowmaries, the plighted39 husband of her babyhood. No! she loved him, Michael, the blackguard, the liar40, the cheat an you will call him so; but she loved him, the man for all that.
Therefore he felt no remorse, when he knelt beside her and during that exquisite hour of evening, when shadows flew across the moon, and the acacias whispered fairy tales of love and of brave deeds, he listened to her innocent prattle19 with a clear mind and a determined41 conscience, and the while she spoke32 to him of her simple past life, of her books and of her music, his ambition went galloping42 on into the land of romance.
The title of Earl of Stowmaries which he had assumed, he could easily win now; the riches, the position, everything that could satisfy a woman's innocent vanity he would shower upon his snowdrop. She would have all that her parents wished for her, all and more, for she would have a husband who worshipped her, whose boundless43 love was built on the secure foundation of a great and lasting44 gratitude45.
It was in this same boundless gratitude that he kissed her hands now; those little hands which had been the exquisite channels through which had flown to him the pure waters of love and of happiness.
How quaint46 she looked, with her fair hair almost wild round her little head. The dance first, then the ride through wind and space had loosened most of the puffs[206] and curls from their prearranged places. That tired look round the eyes, the ring of dark tone which set off the pearly whiteness of her skin, the beads47 of moisture on her forehead, these gave her a strangely-pathetic air of frailty48, which most specially49 appealed to Michael's rugged strength.
Her white gown was torn here and there—Michael remembered catching50 his foot in it in the mazes51 of the dance—it was crumpled52, too, and hung limply round her young figure, showing every delicate curve of the childlike form, every rounded outline of budding womanhood.
Think you it was an easy task for Michael to keep his tempestuous53 passion in check, he who throughout his life had known no control save that of cruel necessity? Think you he did not long to take her in his arms, to cover those sweet lips with kisses, to frighten her with the overwhelming strength of his love and then to see fright slowly changing to trust and the scared look give way beneath the hot wave of passion.
But with all that mad desire coursing through brain and blood, Michael knelt there at her feet, holding her hands, and listening to the flow of talk which like a cooling stream rippled54 in his ear. She asked him about England and about his home, and wanted to know if in springtime the white acacias were in bloom in Sussex, and if rosemary—her namesake—grew wild in the meadows.
In the woods round Fontainebleau the ground was carpeted with anemones55; were there such sweet white carpets in the English woods? Then she looked about her in the ugly, uninteresting little room and saw a broken-down harpsichord56 standing57 in a corner.
She jumped up gay as a bird and ran to open it. There were several broken keys, and those that still were whole gave forth58 quaint, plaintive59 little sounds but she sang:
[207]
"Si tu m'aimais, tu serais roi de la terre!"
and he remained beside the window, with the cold breeze fanning his cheek, his head resting in his hand, and his eye piercing the gloomy corner of the room from whence came the heavenly song.
Indeed! was he not king of all the world?
Thus passed a delicious hour. Anon the coach—which originally should have brought the bridal pair hither, had not milor carried off the bride in such high-handed fashion—came lumbering60 up to the door.
Prudent61 maman had despatched it off in the wake of the impetuous rider. It contained a bundle of clothes and change of linen62 for Rose Marie and had my lord's effects, too, in the boot.
Rose Marie gave a little cry of delight when she realised maman's forethought, and then one of dismay for she suddenly became conscious of her disordered dress.
The worthy63 hostess—fat, greasy64 and motherly, had entered, candle in hand, to announce the arrival of the coach.
"Me and my man expected Monsieur and Madame to arrive in it," she explained volubly. "Monsieur's servant came yesterday to bespeak65 the rooms and to arrange for the stabling. I was so surprised when Monsieur arrived on horseback, so much earlier, too, than we had anticipated—else I had had supper ready ere this, for Monsieur and Madame must surely be hungry."
"But supper must be ready by now, good Madame Blond," said Rose Marie blushing to hear herself called "Madame," "and I pray you have my effects taken to my room."
"They are there already, so please you, my pigeon," said the amiable old soul, "and there is some water for washing your pretty face."
[208] "And will supper be ready soon?" she reiterated66 insistently67 for she was young and healthy, and had eaten very little for sheer excitement all day.
"While you smooth out your golden curls, ma mignonne, I'll dish up the soup. Nay68! but Monsieur is in luck's way!" she said, shaking her large round head. "Madame is the comeliest69 bride we have seen at St. Denis for a long time past. And they all come this way, you know—away from the prying70 eyes of kindly71 friends. Me and my man are so discreet72!—especially if the bride be so pretty and the bridegroom so good to look at."
She would have babbled73 on a long time, despite Monsieur's look of fretful impatience74, but fortunately just then the hissing75 sound of an overflowing76 soup-pot came ominously77 through the open door.
"Holy Joseph, patron of good housewives, defend us!" exclaimed Mme. Blond, making a dash for the door, "the cro?te-au-pot is boiling over."
Rose Marie made to follow her.
"Need you go, my snowdrop?" he asked, loth to let her go.
"You are so beautiful like this, I would not wish to see one single curl altered upon your head, or one fold changed upon your gown."
She was standing against the table, the fingers of one hand resting lightly upon the blackened oak, her head bent80 slightly forward the while her blue eyes half sought, half shrank from his gaze.
He went up to her, and drew her to him. The desire was irresistible81 and she almost called for that first kiss by her beauty, her innocence82, her perfect girlishness which[209] was so ready to give all bliss83 and to taste all happiness.
He kissed her fair hair, her eyes, her delicate cheeks now suffused84 with blushes. Then with a look he asked for her lips and she understood and yielded them to him with a glad little sigh of infinite trust.
The hand of time marked these heavenly minutes; surely the angels looked down from their paradise in envy at this earthly heaven. Outside the wind sighed amid the branches of the acacias, wafting85 into the room something of the pungent86 odour of this spring air, of the opening buds of poplars and of beeches87 and the languorous88 odour of newly-awakened life.
Gently she tried to disengage herself from his arms.
"I must go now," she whispered.
"Not yet."
"For a moment and I'll come back."
"Not yet."
"Let go, dear lord, for I would go."
"Not till I've had another kiss."
Happiness and the springtime of the earth, joy and life and love dancing hand in hand with youth! O Time, why dost not stop at moments such as this?
The sighing of the reeds on the river bank came as the sound of a fairy lullaby, the scent89 of the spring reached the girl's nostrils90 like an intoxicant vapour, which clouded her brain. The room was quite dark, and she could scarcely see his face, yet she felt that his eyes perpetually asked a question, to which she could only respond by closing her own:
"Tu m'aimes?" he whispered, and the heavy lids falling over ardent eyes made mute response to him.
A confused sound of horses' hoofs91 outside, of shouts[210] and calls from within roused them both from their dream. She succeeded now in disengaging herself from his arms, and still whispering:
"I'll come back!" she retreated toward the door.
Just as she reached it, the moon so long obscured burst forth in full glory from behind a bank of clouds, her rays came straight into the narrow room and lighted on the dainty figure of the girl standing with crumpled white dress and hair disarranged, cheeks rosy92 red and eyes full of promise and love against the dark background of the heavy oaken door.
Michael looked upon her with longing93, hungry eyes, drinking in every line of that delicately-moulded form, the graceful94 neck, the slender hands, the firm girlish shoulders on which the prim95 kerchief had become slightly disarranged. Then as she retreated further into the next room, she vanished from his sight; the door fell to behind her with a heavy, ominous78 sound, shutting out the radiant vision of Michael's cherished dream, leaving him on the other side of the heavenly portals, alone and desolate96.
Thus he saw her in full light, and lost her in the shadows. Something of the premonition of what was to come already held his heart as in a cold and cruel vice97. When the door closed upon his dream, upon his Rose Marie, he knew by an unerring and torturing instinct that he would never, never see her quite as she had been just now. The Rose Marie who had left him was for remembrance.
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1
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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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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3
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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4
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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5
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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6
askew
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| adv.斜地；adj.歪斜的 | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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10
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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11
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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12
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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clumps
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| 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 | |
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14
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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15
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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18
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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19
prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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20
prattled
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的过去式和过去分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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21
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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23
stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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24
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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reverent
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| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
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wastrel
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| n.浪费者；废物 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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28
flecks
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| n.斑点，小点( fleck的名词复数 )；癍 | |
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29
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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30
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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31
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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32
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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33
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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34
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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35
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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36
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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37
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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38
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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39
plighted
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| vt.保证，约定（plight的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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40
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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41
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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42
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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43
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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44
lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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45
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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46
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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47
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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48
frailty
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| n.脆弱；意志薄弱 | |
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49
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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50
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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51
mazes
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| 迷宫( maze的名词复数 )； 纷繁复杂的规则； 复杂难懂的细节； 迷宫图 | |
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52
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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53
tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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54
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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55
anemones
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| n.银莲花( anemone的名词复数 )；海葵 | |
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56
harpsichord
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| n.键琴（钢琴前身） | |
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57
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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58
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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59
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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60
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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61
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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62
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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63
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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64
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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65
bespeak
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| v.预定；预先请求 | |
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66
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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68
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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69
comeliest
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| adj.英俊的，好看的( comely的最高级 ) | |
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70
prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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72
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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73
babbled
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| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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74
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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75
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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76
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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77
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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79
demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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80
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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81
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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82
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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83
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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84
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
wafting
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的现在分词 ) | |
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86
pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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87
beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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88
languorous
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| adj.怠惰的，没精打采的 | |
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89
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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90
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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91
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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92
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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93
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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94
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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95
prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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96
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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97
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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