It was a pretty place, peaceful and sunny; and here the people cultivated their vines and fruit trees, and lived, the poorer folks quite in the village, the better-off inhabitants in neat farmhouses4 close by. These farmhouses were in the midst of fields, with cattle browsing5 in the meadows.
Altogether, the village was the most civilized-looking place the children had stopped at since they entered what had been a few years ago the dreary6 desert of the Landes. Strange to say, however, here, for the first time, the weary little pilgrims met with a cold reception. The people in the village of Moulleau did not care for boys who played the fiddle7, and dogs that tried clumsily to accompany it. They looked with a fine lack of sympathy at Cecile's pathetic blue eyes, and Maurice was nothing more to them than a rather dirty little sunburnt boy.
One or two of the inns even refused the children a night's lodging8 for money, and so disagreeable did those that did take them in make themselves that after the first night Cecile and Joe determined9 to sleep in the forest close by. it was now April, the weather was delicious, and in the forest of pines and oak trees not a breath of wind ever seemed to enter. Joe, looking round, found an old tumbledown hut. In the hut was a pile of dry pine needles. These pine needles made a much snugger10 bed than they had found in a rather dirty inn in the village; and, still greater an advantage, they could use this pleasant accommodation free of all charge.
It was, indeed, necessary to economize11, for the francs sewn into the winsey frock would come to an end by and by.
The children found to their dismay that they had by no means taken a direct road to the Pyrenees, but had wandered about, and had been misdirected many times.
There was one reason, however, which induced Cecile to stay for a few days in the forest close to the village of Moulleau.
This was the reason: Amongst the many sunny farms around, was one, the smallest there, but built on a slight eminence12, and resembling in some slight and vague way, not so much its neighbors, as the low-roofed, many-thatched English farmhouse3 of Warren's Grove13. Cecile felt fascinated by this farm with its English frontage. She could not explain either her hopes or her fears with regard to it. But an unaccountable desire was over her to remain in the forest for a short time before they proceeded on their journey.
"Let us rest here just one day longer," she would plead in her gentle way; and Joe, though seeing no reason for what seemed like unnecessary delay, nevertheless yielded to her demand.
He was not idle himself. As neither fiddling14 nor dancing seemed to pay, he determined to earn money in some other manner; so, as there were quantities of fir cones16 in the forests, he collected great piles and took them into Arcachon for sale.
While Joe was away, sometimes accompanied by Maurice, sometimes alone, Cecile would yield to that queer fascination17, which seemed unaccountable, and wander silently, and yet with a certain anxiety to the borders of that English-looking farm.
Never did she dare to venture within its precincts. But she would come to the edge of the paling which divided its rich meadows from the road, and watch the cattle browsing, and the cocks, and hens, and ducks and geese, going in and out, with wistful and longing18 eyes.
Once, from under the low and pretty porch, she saw a child run eagerly, with shouts of laughter. This child, aged19 about two, had golden hair and a fair skin. Cecile had seen no child like him in the village. He Looked like an English boy. How did he and that English-looking farm get into the sequestered20 forest of the Landes?
After seeing the child, Cecile went back to her hut, sat down on the pine needles, and began to think.
Never yet had she obtained the faintest clew to her search.
Looking everywhere for blue eyes and golden hair, it seemed to Cecile that such things had faded from the earth. And now! but no, what would bring the English girl Lovedy there?
Why should Lovedy be at Moulleau more than at any other village in the Landes? and in any case what had the English-looking child to say to Lovedy?
Cecile determined to put any vague hopes out of her head. They must leave Moulleau the next morning; that she had promised Joe. Whenever Lovedy did come across their path, she would come in very different guise21. But still, try as she would, Cecile's thoughts returned over and over again to the golden-haired laddie, and these thoughts, which came almost against her will, might have led to results which would have quickly solved her difficulties, but for an event which occurred just then.
This event, terrible and anxious, put all remembrance of the English farm and English child far from her mind.
Joe had made rather a good day at Arcachon selling his pine cones; and Maurice, who had gone with him, and had tried in his baby fashion to help him, had returned to the hut very tired, and so sleepy that, after eating a little bread and fruit, he lay down on the pine needles and went sound asleep. Generally tired and healthy, little Maurice slept without moving until the morning. But this night, contrary to his wont22, he found himself broad awake before Cecile or Joe had lain down. Joe, a lighted fir cone15 in his hand, which he carefully guarded from the dry pine needles, was sitting close to Cecile, who was reading aloud to him out of the Testament23 which Mrs. Moseley had given to her. Cecile read aloud to Joe every night, and this time her solemn little voice stumbled slowly over the words, "He that loveth father or mother more than Me is not worthy24 of Me."
"I think as that is a bit hard," interrupted Joe. "I wonder ef Jesus could tell wot a hankering a feller has fur his mother when he ain't seen her fur seven years? Why, Miss Cecile, I'm real starved fur my mother. I dreams of her hevery night, and I feels as tho' we 'ud never, never get back to the dear blue mountains again. No," continued Joe, shaking his dark head, "I never, never could love Jesus better nor my mother."
"I don't remember my mother," said Cecile; "and I think I love Jesus the Guide even better than I love Maurice. But oh, Joe, I'm a selfish little girl. I ought not to stay on here when you want to see your mother so very badly. We will start to your mountains quite, quite early in the morning, Joe."
"Thank yer, Missie," said Joe, with a very bright smile; and then, having put the pine carefully out, the two children also lay down to sleep.
But little Maurice, who had heard every word, was still quite wide awake. Maurice, who loved his forest life, and who quite hated these long and enforced marches, felt very cross. Why should they begin to walk again? He had no interest in these long and interminable rambles25. How often his feet used to ache! How blistered26 they often were! And now that the weather was so warm and sunny, little Maurice got tired even sooner than in the winter's cold. No; what he loved was lying about under the pine trees, and watching the turpentine trickling27 very slowly into the tin vessels28 fastened to their trunks; and then he liked to look at the squirrels darting29 merrily from bough30 to bough, and the rabbits running about, and the birds flying here and there. This was the life Maurice loved. This was south. Cecile had always told him they were going south. Well, was not this south, this pleasant, balmy forest-land. What did they want with anything further? Maurice reflected with dismay over the tidings that they were to leave quite early in the morning. He felt inclined to cry, to wake Cecile, to get her to promise not to go. Suddenly an idea, and what he considered quite a brilliant idea, entered his baby mind. Cecile and Joe had arranged to commence their march quite early in the morning. Suppose—suppose he, Maurice, slipped softly from the old hut and hid himself in the forest. Why, then, they would not go; they would never dream of leaving Maurice behind. He could come back to them when the sun was high in the heavens; and then Joe would pronounce it too hot to go on any journey that day. Thus he would secure another long day in his beloved woods.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
seaport
|
|
| n.海港，港口，港市 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
dreading
|
|
| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
farmhouse
|
|
| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
farmhouses
|
|
| n.农舍，农场的主要住房( farmhouse的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
browsing
|
|
| v.吃草( browse的现在分词 )；随意翻阅；（在商店里）随便看看；（在计算机上）浏览信息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
fiddle
|
|
| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
snugger
|
|
| adj.整洁的( snug的比较级 )；温暖而舒适的；非常舒适的；紧身的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
11
economize
|
|
| v.节约，节省 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
eminence
|
|
| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
grove
|
|
| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
fiddling
|
|
| 微小的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
cone
|
|
| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
cones
|
|
| n.（人眼）圆锥细胞；圆锥体( cone的名词复数 )；球果；圆锥形东西；（盛冰淇淋的）锥形蛋卷筒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
fascination
|
|
| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
sequestered
|
|
| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
guise
|
|
| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
testament
|
|
| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
rambles
|
|
| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
blistered
|
|
| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
trickling
|
|
| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
vessels
|
|
| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
darting
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
bough
|
|
| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |