It was daylight when the tired child opened her eyes. She was no longer lying against Joe's breast in the forest; no, she was in the shelter of the little hut, and Toby alone was keeping her company. Joe had vanished, and no Maurice had returned in the darkness as she had fondly hoped he would the night before. The candle had shed its tiny ray and burned itself out in vain. The little wanderer had not come back.
Cecile sat up with a weary sigh; her head ached, she felt cold and chilly8. Then a queer fancy, joined to a trembling kind of hope, came over her. That farm with the English frontage; that fair child with the English face. Suppose those people were really English? Suppose she went to them and asked them to help her to look for Maurice, and suppose, while seeking for her little brother, she obtained a clew to another and more protracted9 search?
Cecile thought and thought, and though her temples throbbed10 with pain, and she trembled from cold and weariness, the longing to get as near as possible to this farm, where English people might dwell, became too great and strong to be resisted.
She rose somewhat languidly, and, calling Toby, went out into the forest. Here the fresher air revived her, and the exercise took off a growing sensation of heavy illness. She walked quickly, and as she did so her hopes became more defined.
The farm Cecile meant to reach lay about a mile from the village of Bolleau. It was situated11 on a pretty rise of ground to the very borders of the forest. Cecile, walking quickly, reached it before long; then she stood still, leaning over the paling and looking across the enchanted12 ground. This paling in itself was English, and the very strut13 of the barn-door fowl14 reminded her of Warren's Grove15. How she wished that fair child to run out! How she hoped to hear even one word of the only language she understood! No matter her French origin, Cecile was all English at this moment. Toby stood by her side patiently enough.
Toby, too, was in great trouble and perplexity about Maurice, but his present strongest instinct was to get at a very fat fowl which, unconscious of danger, was scratching up worms at its leisure within almost reach of his nose.
Toby had a weakness, nay16, a vice17, in the direction of fowl; he liked to hunt them. He could not imagine why Cecile did not go in at that low gate which stood a little open close by. Where was the use of remaining still, in any case, so near temptation? The unwary fowl came close, very close. Toby could stand it no longer. He made a spring, a snap, and caught at its beak18.
Then ensued a fuss and an uproar19; every fowl in the place commenced to give voice in the cause of an injured comrade. Cackle, cackle, crow, crow, from, it seemed, hundreds of throats. Toby retired20 actually abashed21, and out at the same moment, from under the rose-covered porch, came the pretty fair-haired boy. The child was instantly followed by an old woman, a regular Frenchwoman, upright, straight as a dart22, with coal-black eyes and snowy hair tidily put away under a tall peasant's cap.
Cecile heard her utter a French exclamation23, then chide24 pretty sharply the uproarious birds. Toby lying perdu behind the hedge, the fowl were naturally chided for much ado about nothing.
Just then the little boy, breaking from the restraining hand, ran gleefully into a field of waving corn.
"Suzanne, Suzanne!" shouted the Frenchwoman in shrill25 tones, and then out flew a much younger woman, a woman who seemed, even to the child Cecile, very young indeed. A tall, fair young woman, with a face as pink and white as the boy's, and a wealth of even more golden hair.
"Ah! you naughty little lad. Come here, Jean," she said in English; then catching26 the truant27 child to her bosom28, she ran back with him into the house.
Cecile felt herself turning cold, almost faint. An impulse to run into that farmhouse29, to address that fair-haired young woman, to drag her story, whatever it might be, from her lips, came over her almost too strongly to be resisted.
She might have yielded to it, she was indeed about to yield to it, when suddenly a voice at her elbow, calling her by her name, caused her to look round. There stood Joe, but Joe with a face so altered, so ghastly, so troubled, that Cecile scarcely knew him.
"Come, Cecile, come back to the hut; I have some'ut to tell yer," he said slowly and in hoarse30 tones.
And Cecile, too terrified by this fresh alarm even to remember the English folks who lived at the farm, followed him back into the forest without a word.
点击收听单词发音
1 fervent | |
adj.热的,热烈的,热情的 | |
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2 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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3 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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4 perils | |
极大危险( peril的名词复数 ); 危险的事(或环境) | |
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5 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
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6 buffet | |
n.自助餐;饮食柜台;餐台 | |
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7 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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8 chilly | |
adj.凉快的,寒冷的 | |
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9 protracted | |
adj.拖延的;延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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10 throbbed | |
抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 ); (心脏、脉搏等)跳动 | |
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11 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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12 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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13 strut | |
v.肿胀,鼓起;大摇大摆地走;炫耀;支撑;撑开;n.高视阔步;支柱,撑杆 | |
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14 fowl | |
n.家禽,鸡,禽肉 | |
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15 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
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16 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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17 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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18 beak | |
n.鸟嘴,茶壶嘴,钩形鼻 | |
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19 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
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20 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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21 abashed | |
adj.窘迫的,尴尬的v.使羞愧,使局促,使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22 dart | |
v.猛冲,投掷;n.飞镖,猛冲 | |
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23 exclamation | |
n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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24 chide | |
v.叱责;谴责 | |
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25 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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26 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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27 truant | |
n.懒惰鬼,旷课者;adj.偷懒的,旷课的,游荡的;v.偷懒,旷课 | |
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28 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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29 farmhouse | |
n.农场住宅(尤指主要住房) | |
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30 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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