I looked down at the Thames, of which I had heard so often at school, and for which I received so much scolding and thrashing because it was so hard to remember whether London or Paris flourished on its banks. I looked down on the meadows lying soft and dreamy, untouched by the hand of greed. No tree, no bush, as far as the eyes could wander, nothing but the free, lovely fields, impressing one with a sense of prosperity and peace. To me that peace and stillness was so pleasing that I folded my hands involuntarily.
"Life," I said in a low voice, "wonderful life!" for wonderful I thought it, in spite of the weariness in all my limbs and the ardent7 longing8 in my heart.
I was called down a little later and made the acquaintance of the daughter and the French girl. The former spoke9 German, the latter did not. As I myself did not understand French, my fellow-servant and I spoke English, and spoke it badly. I found out very soon that she was a most superficial girl who hated thoroughly10 the work we had to do together in the rooms and kitchen. Though she was only seventeen years old she had already flirted11 a good deal, and whenever we were at work beating the carpets, washing up the dishes, or cleaning the boots and clothes, she told me of the men who had crossed her way and been more or less fatal in her life. After having detailed12 also the latest of her conquests, a grocer or a chemist's apprentice13, she urged me to tell her something about myself. But at that I shook my head decidedly and smiled. What could I have told her? That what made me sometimes so happy and sometimes so sad was a fairy-tale of such wonderful delicacy14 that she could never have understood it. And when, regardless of my smile and silence, she dived again into the waves of her adventures, I was all the more quiet and worked twice as quickly as she did.
So time passed away painfully, yet mingled15 with the blissful hope that he would come for me some day; unconscious, but not to be shaken, it lived within me, and innumerable times I pictured to myself how it would happen. The bell would ring a short, energetic ring, and he would stand in the kitchen all unexpected and all unannounced. Then I would take him upstairs to my room, show him happily—like a child shows his toys—the little forest below my window, the river and the green fields beyond it, until suddenly he would notice my black dress, my white apron16, and the flowing bonnet-strings—badges of my position—would comprehend the endurance of my heart, my hands, and silently take me in his arms.
These dreams, however, were the most foolish dreams that I have ever dreamt.
By-and-by I learned to know thoroughly the ways of English home-life. Although my mistress was a widow, she gave all sorts of entertainments characteristic of English people, such as tea-parties, picnics, and so forth17. It is true that these large and small gatherings18 doubled my work in every respect, but I tried to compensate19 myself by catching20 now and again an English word, in order to enlarge my knowledge of that language, which was poor indeed, since my mistress as well as her daughter generally spoke either French or German. Yet, with much zeal21 and diligence (I studied in English books deep into the night) I progressed very nicely.
My mistress always treated me most kindly, but I could not help smiling sometimes at the relations between her and her daughter. The fifteen-year-old girl tyrannized over her mother in a most incredible way. Unfortunately my mistress was convinced that her darling possessed22 everything that was needed to make a great artist, and did all in her power to develop the talents of that future genius. It is true that the girl sang, danced, painted, and wrote poetry, but I am doubtful as to the merit of her accomplishments23. One day, when I was busily beating the carpets, my mistress rushed out of her room, and looking pale with nervousness she begged me to stop that noise because Miss Daisy was about to write a poem. I lifted the heavy carpet down at once, but thought of my own poems, which still proved to be a secret source of my scanty24 joys, and asked myself how many poems I could have written if absolute stillness was necessary for the writing of them.
They were composed while I was working, while I was running up and downstairs, and there was nobody who cared. Nobody? No. Now and again a letter told me that the one or the other of my poems was exceptionally beautiful.
When I had been at my post for some time, a great change happened. Miss Daisy fell ill with scarlet25 fever. As soon as the French girl knew about it she left the house.
"Do you want to leave too?" my mistress asked me.
"Certainly not," I replied.
After seven weeks full of anxiety and fear, the doctor ordered the patient a change of air. All the necessary things were packed up immediately, and a few days later we looked out on the northern sea. I had got a room to myself, and was impatient to retire there. The evening came at last, but tired though I was, I did not think of sleep. I stepped to the window, opened it as much as one can open a window in England, and gazed enraptured26 at the heaving waters, on which the moonlight glittered and danced. It was very late before I went to bed on that night, and very early when I got up next morning. Nobody was astir yet, and I dressed noiselessly. During the night I had had a strange dream and felt like writing it down. I looked for a sheet of paper and while the sky deepened from pink into red, I wrote a new poem, and entitled it "Ruby27."
After we had stayed at the seaside for about five weeks we returned home, and my mistress did not engage a second servant for the present. My duties increased and I had less time to spare than before, but still filled the few moments of leisure I could find with the study of the English language.
One day I came across a book by Milton, and in spite of my defective28 knowledge of the language, read most eagerly his "Paradise Lost," and was overwhelmed by the picturesque29 language and by the bold imagination and grandeur30 of the whole. Many, many times, also, I looked up the page on which was written:
"When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide,
'Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?'
I fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent
Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best
Is kingly: thousands at His bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.'"
And each time that I read that poem I fell into a strange brooding mood. A mood from which later on sprang my greatest defeat and my greatest conquest. By-and-by I bought the poems of Lord Byron, Keats, and also of Longfellow, and not a single day passed without my being able to do a little reading. That does not mean, however, that I read all the poems contained in a book. Far from it. When I bought a new book I used to turn over the leaves until I found a poem which I liked very much, and that one poem I kept reading over and over again. It happened also that I used to read a poem on account of one passage only. There is, for example, one poem by Lord Byron, commencing thus:
"Ah! Love was never yet without
And a few lines further:
"That love has arrows, well I knew;
For the sake of these last lines, I wandered through the whole poem again and again although I did not care for the rest.
My favourite poem by Keats was:
"I had a dove, and the sweet dove died,
And I have thought it died of grieving.
Oh, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied
With a silken thread of my own hands' weaving.
Sweet little red feet! why should you die?
Why should you leave me, sweet bird! why?
You lived alone in the forest-tree;
Why, pretty thing, would you not live with me?
I kissed you oft and gave you white peas;
Why not live sweetly as in the green trees?"
This poem seemed to me so simple, so sweet, that I recited it while I did the washing or cleaned the floor. It is a habit of mine to recite a poem whenever my occupation permits it; the even movement of a verse produces a most soothing39 effect on me, and I know of no other thing in existence holding so much grace and sweetness as the symmetrical flow of poetry. In this quiet manner, time slipped away. During the first month of my stay in England my friend had written to me often, but little by little his letters became rare; sometimes he kept me waiting for months, and then I thought that he had forgotten me. At such hours my longing for him was beyond all telling; how I watched for him and waited, expecting vaguely40 that something unaccountable, something wonderful would happen to bring him to me; and so firmly did I believe this, that I began to tremble each time the bell was rung, thinking that he had come. But he never came.
One day my mistress told me that she had received an invitation to go to Scotland, but could not take me with her.
"I think," she said, "as you have not seen much of London yet, you might like to become better acquainted with the town. So the best thing for you would be to stay at the home for a few weeks."
"I don't think I should like to stay at the home," I replied.
"Why not? That home is a very worthy41 home indeed, and I feel sure that you will be well cared for."
After that I did not dare to say more.
点击收听单词发音
1 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 slab | |
n.平板,厚的切片;v.切成厚板,以平板盖上 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 protruding | |
v.(使某物)伸出,(使某物)突出( protrude的现在分词 );凸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 ardent | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,强烈的,烈性的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 spoke | |
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 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 flirted | |
v.调情,打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 detailed | |
adj.详细的,详尽的,极注意细节的,完全的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 apprentice | |
n.学徒,徒弟 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 apron | |
n.围裙;工作裙 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 gatherings | |
聚集( gathering的名词复数 ); 收集; 采集; 搜集 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 compensate | |
vt.补偿,赔偿;酬报 vi.弥补;补偿;抵消 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 accomplishments | |
n.造诣;完成( accomplishment的名词复数 );技能;成绩;成就 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 enraptured | |
v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 ruby | |
n.红宝石,红宝石色 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 defective | |
adj.有毛病的,有问题的,有瑕疵的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 grandeur | |
n.伟大,崇高,宏伟,庄严,豪华 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 lodged | |
v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 );暂住;埋入;(权利、权威等)归属 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 maker | |
n.制造者,制造商 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 chide | |
v.叱责;谴责 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 yoke | |
n.轭;支配;v.给...上轭,连接,使成配偶 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 pang | |
n.剧痛,悲痛,苦闷 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 soothing | |
adj.慰藉的;使人宽心的;镇静的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |