Ernest conducted Ethel Brandenbourg to his room and helped her to remove her cloak.
While he was placing the garment upon the back of a chair, she slipped a little key into her hand-bag. He looked at her with a question in his eyes.
"Yes," she replied, "I kept the key; but I had not dreamed that I would ever again cross this threshold."
Meanwhile it had grown quite dark. The reflection of the street lanterns without dimly lit the room, and through the twilight1 fantastic shadows seemed to dance.
The perfume of her hair pervaded2 the room and filled the boy's heart with romance. Tenderness long suppressed called with a thousand voices. The hour, the strangeness and unexpectedness of her visit, perhaps even a boy's pardonable vanity, roused passion from its slumbers3 and once again wrought4 in Ernest's soul the miracle of love. His arm encircled her neck and his lips stammered5 blind, sweet, crazy and caressing6 things.
"Turn on the light," she pleaded.
"You were not always so cruel."
"No matter, I have not come to speak of love."
"Why, then, have you come?"
Ernest felt a little awkward, disappointed, as he uttered these words.
What could have induced her to come to his rooms? He loosened his hold on her and did as she asked.
How pale she looked in the light, how beautiful! Surely, she had sorrowed for him; but why had she not answered his letter? Yes, why?
"Your letter?" She smiled a little sadly. "Surely you did not expect me to answer that?"
"Why not?" He had again approached her and his lips were close to hers. "Why not? I have yearned7 for you. I love you."
His breath intoxicated8 her; it was like a subtle perfume. Still she did not yield.
"You love me now--you did not love me then. The music of your words was cold--machine-made, strained and superficial. I shall not answer, I told myself: in his heart he has forgotten you. I did not then realise that a dangerous force had possessed9 your life and crushed in your mind every image but its own."
"I don't understand."
"Do you think I would have come here if it were a light matter? No, I tell you, it is a matter of life and death to you, at least as an artist."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Have you done a stroke of work since I last saw you?"
"Yes, let me see, surely, magazine articles and a poem."
"That is not what I want to know. Have you accomplished10 anything big? Have you grown since this summer? How about your novel?"
"I--I have almost finished it in my mind, but I have found no chance to begin with the actual writing. I was sick of late, very sick."
No doubt of it! His face was pinched and pale, and the lines about the mouth were curiously11 contorted, like those of a man suffering from a painful internal disease.
"Tell me," she ventured, "do you ever miss anything?"
"Do you mean--are there thieves?"
"Thieves! Against thieves one can protect oneself."
He stared at her wildly, half-frightened, in anticipation12 of some dreadful revelation. His dream! His dream! That hand! Could it be more than a dream? God! His lips quivered.
Ethel observed his agitation13 and continued more quietly, but with the same insistence14: "Have you ever had ideas, plans that you began without having strength to complete them? Have you had glimpses of vocal15 visions that seemed to vanish no sooner than seen? Did it ever seem to you as if some mysterious and superior will brutally16 interfered17 with the workings of your brain?"
Did it seem so to him! He himself could not have stated more plainly the experience of the last few months. Each word fell from her lips like the blow of a hammer. Shivering, he put his arm around her, seeking solace18, not love. This time she did not repulse19 him and, trustingly, as a child confides20 to his mother, he depicted21 to her the suffering that harrowed his life and made it a hell.
As she listened, indignation clouded her forehead, while rising tears of anger and of love weighed down her lashes22. She could bear the pitiful sight no longer.
"Child," she cried, "do you know who your tormentor23 is?"
And like a flash the truth passed from her to him. A sudden intimation told him what her words had still concealed24.
"Don't! For Christ's sake, do not pronounce his name!" he sobbed25. "Do not breathe it. I could not endure it. I should go mad."
1 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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2 pervaded | |
v.遍及,弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3 slumbers | |
睡眠,安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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4 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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5 stammered | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6 caressing | |
爱抚的,表现爱情的,亲切的 | |
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7 yearned | |
渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8 intoxicated | |
喝醉的,极其兴奋的 | |
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9 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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10 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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11 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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12 anticipation | |
n.预期,预料,期望 | |
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13 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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14 insistence | |
n.坚持;强调;坚决主张 | |
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15 vocal | |
adj.直言不讳的;嗓音的;n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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16 brutally | |
adv.残忍地,野蛮地,冷酷无情地 | |
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17 interfered | |
v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 );调停;妨碍;干涉 | |
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18 solace | |
n.安慰;v.使快乐;vt.安慰(物),缓和 | |
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19 repulse | |
n.击退,拒绝;vt.逐退,击退,拒绝 | |
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20 confides | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的第三人称单数 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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21 depicted | |
描绘,描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 ); 描述 | |
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22 lashes | |
n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 );鞭子;突然猛烈的一击;急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 );煽动;紧系;怒斥 | |
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23 tormentor | |
n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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24 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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25 sobbed | |
哭泣,啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 ); 哭诉,呜咽地说 | |
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