Before that well-nigh hopeless journey to the coast was half over I became ill — so ill that anyone who had looked on me might well have imagined that I had come to the end of my pilgrimage. That was what I feared. For days I remained sunk in the deepest despondence; then, in a happy moment, I remembered how, after being bitten by the serpent, when death had seemed near and inevitable1, I had madly rushed away through the forest in search of help, and wandered lost for hours in the storm and darkness, and in the end escaped death, probably by means of these frantic2 exertions3. The recollection served to inspire me with a new desperate courage. Bidding good-bye to the Indian village where the fever had smitten4 me, I set out once more on that apparently5 hopeless adventure. Hopeless, indeed, it seemed to one in my weak condition. My legs trembled under me when I walked, while hot sun and pelting6 rain were like flame and stinging ice to my morbidly8 sensitive skin.
For many days my sufferings were excessive, so that I often wished myself back in that milder purgatory9 of the forest, from which I had been so anxious to escape. When I try to retrace10 my route on the map, there occurs a break here — a space on the chart where names of rivers and mountains call up no image to my mind, although, in a few cases, they were names I seem to have heard in a troubled dream. The impressions of nature received during that sick period are blurred11, or else so coloured and exaggerated by perpetual torturing anxiety, mixed with half-delirious night-fancies, that I can only think of that country as an earthly inferno12, where I fought against every imaginable obstacle, alternately sweating and freezing, toiling13 as no man ever toiled14 before. Hot and cold, cold and hot, and no medium. Crystal waters; green shadows under coverture of broad, moist leaves; and night with dewy fanning winds — these chilled but did not refresh me; a region in which there was no sweet and pleasant thing; where even the ita palm and mountain glory and airy epiphyte starring the woodland twilight15 with pendent blossoms had lost all grace and beauty; where all brilliant colours in earth and heaven were like the unmitigated sun that blinded my sight and burnt my brain. Doubtless I met with help from the natives, otherwise I do not see how I could have continued my journey; yet in my dim mental picture of that period I see myself incessantly16 dogged by hostile savages17. They flit like ghosts through the dark forest; they surround me and cut off all retreat, until I burst through them, escaping out of their very hands, to fly over some wide, naked savannah, hearing their shrill19, pursuing yells behind me, and feeling the sting of their poisoned arrows in my flesh.
This I set down to the workings of remorse20 in a disordered mind and to clouds of venomous insects perpetually shrilling21 in my ears and stabbing me with their small, fiery22 needles.
Not only was I pursued by phantom23 savages and pierced by phantom arrows, but the creations of the Indian imagination had now become as real to me as anything in nature. I was persecuted24 by that superhuman man-eating monster supposed to be the guardian25 of the forest. In dark, silent places he is lying in wait for me: hearing my slow, uncertain footsteps he starts up suddenly in my path, outyelling the bearded aguaratos in the trees; and I stand paralysed, my blood curdled26 in my veins27. His huge, hairy arms are round me; his foul28, hot breath is on my skin; he will tear my liver out with his great green teeth to satisfy his raging hunger. Ah, no, he cannot harm me! For every ravening29 beast, every cold-blooded, venomous thing, and even the frightful30 Curupita, half brute31 and half devil, that shared the forest with her, loved and worshipped Rima, and that mournful burden I carried, her ashes, was a talisman32 to save me. He has left me, the semi-human monster, uttering such wild, lamentable33 cries as he hurries away into the deeper, darker woods that horror changes to grief, and I, too, lament34 Rima for the first time: a memory of all the mystic, unimaginable grace and loveliness and joy that had vanished smites35 on my heart with such sudden, intense pain that I cast myself prone36 on the earth and weep tears that are like drops of blood.
Where in the rude savage18 heart of Guiana was this region where the natural obstacles and pain and hunger and thirst and everlasting37 weariness were terrible enough without the imaginary monsters and legions of phantoms38 that peopled it, I cannot say. Nor can I conjecture39 how far I strayed north or south from my course. I only know that marshes40 that were like Sloughs41 of Despond, and barren and wet savannahs, were crossed; and forests that seemed infinite in extent and never to be got through; and scores of rivers that boiled round the sharp rocks, threatening to submerge or dash in pieces the frail42 bark canoe — black and frightful to look on as rivers in hell; and nameless mountain after mountain to be toiled round or toiled over. I may have seen Roraima during that mentally clouded period. I vaguely43 remember a far-extending gigantic wall of stone that seemed to bar all further progress — a rocky precipice44 rising to a stupendous height, seen by moonlight, with a huge sinuous45 rope of white mist suspended from its summit; as if the guardian camoodi of the mountain had been a league-long spectral46 serpent which was now dropping its coils from the mighty47 stone table to frighten away the rash intruder.
That spectral moonlight camoodi was one of many serpent fancies that troubled me. There was another, surpassing them all, which attended me many days. When the sun grew hot overhead and the way was over open savannah country, I would see something moving on the ground at my side and always keeping abreast48 of me. A small snake, one or two feet long. No, not a small snake, but a sinuous mark in the pattern on a huge serpent’s head, five or six yards long, always moving deliberately49 at my side. If a cloud came over the sun, or a fresh breeze sprang up, gradually the outline of that awful head would fade and the well-defined pattern would resolve itself into the motlings on the earth. But if the sun grew more and more hot and dazzling as the day progressed, then the tremendous ophidian head would become increasingly real to my sight, with glistening50 scales and symmetrical markings; and I would walk carefully not to stumble against or touch it; and when I cast my eyes behind me I could see no end to its great coils extending across the savannah. Even looking back from the summit of a high hill I could see it stretching leagues and leagues away through forests and rivers, across wide plains, valleys and mountains, to lose itself at last in the infinite blue distance.
How or when this monster left me — washed away by cold rains perhaps — I do not know. Probably it only transformed itself into some new shape, its long coils perhaps changing into those endless processions and multitudes of pale-faced people I seem to remember having encountered. In my devious51 wanderings I must have reached the shores of the undiscovered great White Lake, and passed through the long shining streets of Manoa, the mysterious city in the wilderness52. I see myself there, the wide thoroughfare filled from end to end with people gaily53 dressed as if for some high festival, all drawing aside to let the wretched pilgrim pass, staring at his fever — and famine-wasted figure, in its strange rags, with its strange burden.
A new Ahasuerus, cursed by inexpiable crime, yet sustained by a great purpose.
But Ahasuerus prayed ever for death to come to him and ran to meet it, while I fought against it with all my little strength. Only at intervals54, when the shadows seemed to lift and give me relief, would I pray to Death to spare me yet a little longer; but when the shadows darkened again and hope seemed almost quenched55 in utter gloom, then I would curse it and defy its power. Through it all I clung to the belief that my will would conquer, that it would enable me to keep off the great enemy from my worn and suffering body until the wished goal was reached; then only would I cease to fight and let death have its way. There would have been comfort in this belief had it not been for that fevered imagination which corrupted56 everything that touched me and gave it some new hateful character. For soon enough this conviction that the will would triumph grew to something monstrous57, a parent of monstrous fancies. Worst of all, when I felt no actual pain, but only unutterable weariness of body and soul, when feet and legs were numb58 so that I knew not whether I trod on dry hot rock or in slime, was the fancy that I was already dead, so far as the body was concerned — had perhaps been dead for days — that only the unconquerable will survived to compel the dead flesh to do its work.
Whether it really was will — more potent59 than the bark of barks and wiser than the physicians — or merely the vis medicatrix with which nature helps our weakness even when the will is suspended, that saved me I cannot say; but it is certain that I gradually recovered health, physical and mental, and finally reached the coast comparatively well, although my mind was still in a gloomy, desponding state when I first walked the streets of Georgetown, in rags, half-starved and penniless.
But even when well, long after the discovery that my flesh was not only alive, but that it was of an exceedingly tough quality, the idea born during the darkest period of my pilgrimage, that die I must, persisted in my mind. I had lived through that which would have killed most men — lived only to accomplish the one remaining purpose of my life. Now it was accomplished60; the sacred ashes brought so far, with such infinite labour, through so many and such great perils61, were safe and would mix with mine at last. There was nothing more in life to make me love it or keep me prisoner in its weary chains. This prospect62 of near death faded in time; love of life returned, and the earth had recovered its everlasting freshness and beauty; only that feeling about Rima’s ashes did not fade or change, and is as strong now as it was then. Say that it is morbid7 — call it superstition63 if you like; but there it is, the most powerful motive64 I have known, always in all things to be taken into account — a philosophy of life to be made to fit it. Or take it as a symbol, since that may come to be one with the thing symbolized65. In those darkest days in the forest I had her as a visitor — a Rima of the mind, whose words when she spoke66 reflected my despair. Yet even then I was not entirely67 without hope. Heaven itself, she said, could not undo68 that which I had done; and she also said that if I forgave myself, Heaven would say no word, nor would she. That is my philosophy still: prayers, austerities, good works — they avail nothing, and there is no intercession, and outside of the soul there is no forgiveness in heaven or earth for sin. Nevertheless there is a way, which every soul can find out for itself — even the most rebellious69, the most darkened with crime and tormented70 by remorse. In that way I have walked; and, self-forgiven and self-absolved, I know that if she were to return once more and appear to me — even here where her ashes are — I know that her divine eyes would no longer refuse to look into mine, since the sorrow which seemed eternal and would have slain71 me to see would not now be in them.
The End
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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pelting
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| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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morbidly
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| adv.病态地 | |
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purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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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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inferno
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| n.火海；地狱般的场所 | |
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toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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shrilling
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的现在分词 )； 凄厉 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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curdled
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| v.（使）凝结( curdle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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ravening
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| a.贪婪而饥饿的 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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talisman
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| n.避邪物，护身符 | |
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lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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smites
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的第三人称单数 ) | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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sloughs
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| n.沼泽( slough的名词复数 )；苦难的深渊；难以改变的不良心情；斯劳(Slough)v.使蜕下或脱落( slough的第三人称单数 )；舍弃；除掉；摒弃 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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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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51
devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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52
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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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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55
quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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56
corrupted
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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symbolized
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| v.象征，作为…的象征( symbolize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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