"Geneviève is asleep just now," he told me, "the sprain1 is nothing, but why should she have such a high fever? The doctor can't account for it; or else he will not," he muttered.
"Geneviève has a fever?" I asked.
"I should say so, and has actually been a little light-headed at intervals2 all night. The idea!—gay little Geneviève, without a care in the world,—and she keeps saying her heart's broken, and she wants to die!"
My own heart stood still.
Boris leaned against the door of his studio, looking down, his hands in his pockets, his kind, keen eyes clouded, a new line of trouble drawn3 "over the mouth's good mark, that made the smile." The maid had orders to summon him the instant Geneviève opened her eyes. We waited and waited, and Boris, growing restless, wandered about, fussing with modelling wax and red clay. Suddenly he started for the next room. "Come and see my rose-coloured bath full of death!" he cried.
"Is it death?" I asked, to humour his mood.
"You are not prepared to call it life, I suppose," he answered. As he spoke4 he plucked a solitary5 gold-fish squirming and twisting out of its globe. "We'll send this one after the other—wherever that is," he said. There was feverish6 excitement in his voice. A dull weight of fever lay on my limbs and on my brain as I followed him to the fair crystal pool with its pink-tinted sides; and he dropped the creature in. Falling, its scales flashed with a hot orange gleam in its angry twistings and contortions7; the moment it struck the liquid it became rigid8 and sank heavily to the bottom. Then came the milky9 foam10, the splendid hues11 radiating on the surface and then the shaft12 of pure serene13 light broke through from seemingly infinite depths. Boris plunged14 in his hand and drew out an exquisite15 marble thing, blue-veined, rose-tinted, and glistening16 with opalescent17 drops.
"Child's play," he muttered, and looked wearily, longingly18 at me,—as if I could answer such questions! But Jack19 Scott came in and entered into the "game," as he called it, with ardour. Nothing would do but to try the experiment on the white rabbit then and there. I was willing that Boris should find distraction20 from his cares, but I hated to see the life go out of a warm, living creature and I declined to be present. Picking up a book at random21, I sat down in the studio to read. Alas22! I had found The King in Yellow. After a few moments, which seemed ages, I was putting it away with a nervous shudder23, when Boris and Jack came in bringing their marble rabbit. At the same time the bell rang above, and a cry came from the sick-room. Boris was gone like a flash, and the next moment he called, "Jack, run for the doctor; bring him back with you. Alec, come here."
I went and stood at her door. A frightened maid came out in haste and ran away to fetch some remedy. Geneviève, sitting bolt upright, with crimson24 cheeks and glittering eyes, babbled25 incessantly26 and resisted Boris' gentle restraint. He called me to help. At my first touch she sighed and sank back, closing her eyes, and then—then—as we still bent27 above her, she opened them again, looked straight into Boris' face—poor fever-crazed girl!—and told her secret. At the same instant our three lives turned into new channels; the bond that held us so long together snapped for ever and a new bond was forged in its place, for she had spoken my name, and as the fever tortured her, her heart poured out its load of hidden sorrow. Amazed and dumb I bowed my head, while my face burned like a live coal, and the blood surged in my ears, stupefying me with its clamour. Incapable28 of movement, incapable of speech, I listened to her feverish words in an agony of shame and sorrow. I could not silence her, I could not look at Boris. Then I felt an arm upon my shoulder, and Boris turned a bloodless face to mine.
"It is not your fault, Alec; don't grieve so if she loves you—" but he could not finish; and as the doctor stepped swiftly into the room, saying—"Ah, the fever!" I seized Jack Scott and hurried him to the street, saying, "Boris would rather be alone." We crossed the street to our own apartments, and that night, seeing I was going to be ill too, he went for the doctor again. The last thing I recollect29 with any distinctness was hearing Jack say, "For Heaven's sake, doctor, what ails30 him, to wear a face like that?" and I thought of The King in Yellow and the Pallid31 Mask.
I was very ill, for the strain of two years which I had endured since that fatal May morning when Geneviève murmured, "I love you, but I think I love Boris best," told on me at last. I had never imagined that it could become more than I could endure. Outwardly tranquil32, I had deceived myself. Although the inward battle raged night after night, and I, lying alone in my room, cursed myself for rebellious33 thoughts unloyal to Boris and unworthy of Geneviève, the morning always brought relief, and I returned to Geneviève and to my dear Boris with a heart washed clean by the tempests of the night.
Never in word or deed or thought while with them had I betrayed my sorrow even to myself.
The mask of self-deception was no longer a mask for me, it was a part of me. Night lifted it, laying bare the stifled34 truth below; but there was no one to see except myself, and when the day broke the mask fell back again of its own accord. These thoughts passed through my troubled mind as I lay sick, but they were hopelessly entangled35 with visions of white creatures, heavy as stone, crawling about in Boris' basin,—of the wolf's head on the rug, foaming36 and snapping at Geneviève, who lay smiling beside it. I thought, too, of the King in Yellow wrapped in the fantastic colours of his tattered37 mantle38, and that bitter cry of Cassilda, "Not upon us, oh King, not upon us!" Feverishly39 I struggled to put it from me, but I saw the lake of Hali, thin and blank, without a ripple40 or wind to stir it, and I saw the towers of Carcosa behind the moon. Aldebaran, the Hyades, Alar, Hastur, glided41 through the cloud-rifts which fluttered and flapped as they passed like the scolloped tatters of the King in Yellow. Among all these, one sane42 thought persisted. It never wavered, no matter what else was going on in my disordered mind, that my chief reason for existing was to meet some requirement of Boris and Geneviève. What this obligation was, its nature, was never clear; sometimes it seemed to be protection, sometimes support, through a great crisis. Whatever it seemed to be for the time, its weight rested only on me, and I was never so ill or so weak that I did not respond with my whole soul. There were always crowds of faces about me, mostly strange, but a few I recognized, Boris among them. Afterward43 they told me that this could not have been, but I know that once at least he bent over me. It was only a touch, a faint echo of his voice, then the clouds settled back on my senses, and I lost him, but he did stand there and bend over me once at least.
At last, one morning I awoke to find the sunlight falling across my bed, and Jack Scott reading beside me. I had not strength enough to speak aloud, neither could I think, much less remember, but I could smile feebly, as Jack's eye met mine, and when he jumped up and asked eagerly if I wanted anything, I could whisper, "Yes—Boris." Jack moved to the head of my bed, and leaned down to arrange my pillow: I did not see his face, but he answered heartily44, "You must wait, Alec; you are too weak to see even Boris."
I waited and I grew strong; in a few days I was able to see whom I would, but meanwhile I had thought and remembered. From the moment when all the past grew clear again in my mind, I never doubted what I should do when the time came, and I felt sure that Boris would have resolved upon the same course so far as he was concerned; as for what pertained45 to me alone, I knew he would see that also as I did. I no longer asked for any one. I never inquired why no message came from them; why during the week I lay there, waiting and growing stronger, I never heard their name spoken. Preoccupied46 with my own searchings for the right way, and with my feeble but determined47 fight against despair, I simply acquiesced48 in Jack's reticence49, taking for granted that he was afraid to speak of them, lest I should turn unruly and insist on seeing them. Meanwhile I said over and over to myself, how would it be when life began again for us all? We would take up our relations exactly as they were before Geneviève fell ill. Boris and I would look into each other's eyes, and there would be neither rancour nor cowardice50 nor mistrust in that glance. I would be with them again for a little while in the dear intimacy51 of their home, and then, without pretext52 or explanation, I would disappear from their lives for ever. Boris would know; Geneviève—the only comfort was that she would never know. It seemed, as I thought it over, that I had found the meaning of that sense of obligation which had persisted all through my delirium53, and the only possible answer to it. So, when I was quite ready, I beckoned54 Jack to me one day, and said—
"Jack, I want Boris at once; and take my dearest greeting to Geneviève...."
When at last he made me understand that they were both dead, I fell into a wild rage that tore all my little convalescent strength to atoms. I raved55 and cursed myself into a relapse, from which I crawled forth56 some weeks afterward a boy of twenty-one who believed that his youth was gone for ever. I seemed to be past the capability57 of further suffering, and one day when Jack handed me a letter and the keys to Boris' house, I took them without a tremor58 and asked him to tell me all. It was cruel of me to ask him, but there was no help for it, and he leaned wearily on his thin hands, to reopen the wound which could never entirely60 heal. He began very quietly—
"Alec, unless you have a clue that I know nothing about, you will not be able to explain any more than I what has happened. I suspect that you would rather not hear these details, but you must learn them, else I would spare you the relation. God knows I wish I could be spared the telling. I shall use few words.
"That day when I left you in the doctor's care and came back to Boris, I found him working on the 'Fates.' Geneviève, he said, was sleeping under the influence of drugs. She had been quite out of her mind, he said. He kept on working, not talking any more, and I watched him. Before long, I saw that the third figure of the group—the one looking straight ahead, out over the world—bore his face; not as you ever saw it, but as it looked then and to the end. This is one thing for which I should like to find an explanation, but I never shall.
"Well, he worked and I watched him in silence, and we went on that way until nearly midnight. Then we heard the door open and shut sharply, and a swift rush in the next room. Boris sprang through the doorway61 and I followed; but we were too late. She lay at the bottom of the pool, her hands across her breast. Then Boris shot himself through the heart." Jack stopped speaking, drops of sweat stood under his eyes, and his thin cheeks twitched62. "I carried Boris to his room. Then I went back and let that hellish fluid out of the pool, and turning on all the water, washed the marble clean of every drop. When at length I dared descend63 the steps, I found her lying there as white as snow. At last, when I had decided64 what was best to do, I went into the laboratory, and first emptied the solution in the basin into the waste-pipe; then I poured the contents of every jar and bottle after it. There was wood in the fireplace, so I built a fire, and breaking the locks of Boris' cabinet I burnt every paper, notebook and letter that I found there. With a mallet65 from the studio I smashed to pieces all the empty bottles, then loading them into a coal-scuttle, I carried them to the cellar and threw them over the red-hot bed of the furnace. Six times I made the journey, and at last, not a vestige66 remained of anything which might again aid in seeking for the formula which Boris had found. Then at last I dared call the doctor. He is a good man, and together we struggled to keep it from the public. Without him I never could have succeeded. At last we got the servants paid and sent away into the country, where old Rosier67 keeps them quiet with stories of Boris' and Geneviève's travels in distant lands, from whence they will not return for years. We buried Boris in the little cemetery68 of Sèvres. The doctor is a good creature, and knows when to pity a man who can bear no more. He gave his certificate of heart disease and asked no questions of me."
Then, lifting his head from his hands, he said, "Open the letter, Alec; it is for us both."
I tore it open. It was Boris' will dated a year before. He left everything to Geneviève, and in case of her dying childless, I was to take control of the house in the Rue59 Sainte-Cécile, and Jack Scott the management at Ept. On our deaths the property reverted69 to his mother's family in Russia, with the exception of the sculptured marbles executed by himself. These he left to me.
The page blurred70 under our eyes, and Jack got up and walked to the window. Presently he returned and sat down again. I dreaded71 to hear what he was going to say, but he spoke with the same simplicity72 and gentleness.
"Geneviève lies before the Madonna in the marble room. The Madonna bends tenderly above her, and Geneviève smiles back into that calm face that never would have been except for her."
His voice broke, but he grasped my hand, saying, "Courage, Alec." Next morning he left for Ept to fulfil his trust.
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收听单词发音
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1
sprain
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| n.扭伤,扭筋 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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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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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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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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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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opalescent
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| adj.乳色的，乳白的 | |
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longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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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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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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41
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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42
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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45
pertained
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| 关于( pertain的过去式和过去分词 )； 有关； 存在； 适用 | |
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46
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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47
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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48
acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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50
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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51
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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52
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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53
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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54
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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56
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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capability
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| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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61
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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62
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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64
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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mallet
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| n.槌棒 | |
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vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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rosier
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| Rosieresite | |
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cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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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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blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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dreaded
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| 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) | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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