The cab rolled slowly over the Pont au Change, and the wretched horse fell into a walk as he painfully toiled1 up the hill of St Michel. Yvonne lay back in the corner; covered with all her own wraps and Gethryn’s overcoat, she shivered.
“Poor little Yvonne!” was all he said as he leaned over now and then to draw the cloak more closely around her. Not a sound but the rumble3 of the wheels and the wheezing4 of the old horse broke the silence. The streets were white and deserted5. A few ragged6 flakes7 fell from the black vault8 above, or were shaken down from the crusted branches.
The cab stopped with a jolt9. Yvonne was trembling as Rex lifted her to the ground, and he hurried her into the house, up the black stairway and into their cold room.
When he had a fire blazing in the grate, he looked around. She was kneeling on the floor beside a candle she had lighted, and her tears were pouring down upon the page of an open letter. Rex stepped over and touched her.
“Come to the fire.” He raised her gently, but she could not stand, and he carried her in his arms to the great soft chair before the grate. Then he knelt down and warmed her icy hands in his own. After a while he moved her chair back, and drawing off her dainty white slippers10, wrapped her feet in the fur that lay heaped on the hearth11. Then he unfastened the cloak and the domino, and rolling her gloves from elbow to wrist, slipped them over the helpless little hands. The firelight glanced and glowed on her throat and bosom12, tingeing13 their marble with opalescent14 lights, and searching the deep shadows under her long lashes15. It reached her hair, touching16 here and there a soft, dark wave, and falling aslant17 the knots of ribbon on her bare shoulders, tipped them with points of white fire.
“Is it so bad, dearest Yvonne?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must go?”
“Oh, yes!”
“When?”
“At daylight.”
Gethryn rose and went toward the door; he hesitated, came back and kissed her once on the forehead. When the door closed on him she wept as if her heart would break, hiding her head in her arms. He found her lying so when he returned, and, throwing down her traveling bag and rugs, he knelt and took her to his breast, kissing her again and again on the forehead. At last he had to speak.
“I have packed the things you will need most and will send the rest. It is getting light, dearest; you have to change your dress, you know.”
She roused herself and sat up, looking desolately18 about her.
“Forever!” she whispered.
“No! No!” cried Gethryn.
“Ah! oui, mon ami!”
Gethryn went and stood by the window. The bedroom door was closed.
Day was breaking. He opened the window and looked into the white street. Lamps burned down there with a sickly yellow; a faint light showed behind the barred windows of the old gray barracks. One or two stiff sparrows hopped20 silently about the gutters21, flying up hurriedly when the frost-covered sentinel stamped his boots before the barracks gate. Now and then a half-starved workman limped past, his sabots echoing on the frozen pavement. A hooded22 and caped23 policeman, a red-faced cabman stamping beside his sleepy horse — the street was empty but for them.
It grew lighter24. The top of St Sulpice burned crimson25. Far off a bugle26 fluttered, and then came the tramp of the morning guard mount. They came stumbling across the stony27 court and leaned on their rifles while one of them presented arms and received the word from the sentry28. Little by little people began to creep up and down the sidewalks, and the noise of wooden shutters29 announced another day of toil2 begun. The point of the Luxembourg Palace struck fire as the ghastly gas-lamps faded and went out. Suddenly the great bell of St Sulpice clashed the hour — Eight o’clock!
Again a bugle blew sharply from the barracks, and a troop of cavalry30 danced and pawed through the gate, clattering31 away down the Rue32 de Seine.
Gethryn shut the window and turned into the room. Yvonne stood before the dying embers. He went to her, almost timidly. Neither spoke33. At last she took up her satchel34 and wrap.
“It is time,” she whispered. “Let us go.”
He clasped her once in his arms; she laid her cheek against his.
The train left Montparnasse station at nine. There was hardly anyone in the waiting room. The Guard flung back the grating.
“Vernon, par19 Chartres?” asked Gethryn.
“Vernon — Moulins — Chartres — direct!” shouted the Guard, and stamped off down the platform.
Gethryn showed his ticket which admitted him to the platform, and they walked slowly down the line of dismal-looking cars.
“This one?” and he opened a door.
She stood watching the hissing35 and panting engine, while Gethryn climbed in and placed her bags and rugs in a window corner. The car smelt36 damp and musty, and he stepped out with a choking sensation in his chest. A train man came along, closing doors with a slam.
“All aboard — ladies — gentlemen — voyageurs?” he growled37, as if to himself or some familiar spirit, and jerked a sullen38 clang from the station bell. The engine panted impatiently.
Rex struggled against the constraint39 that seemed to be dividing them.
“Yvonne, you will write?”
“I don’t know!”
“You don’t know! Yvonne!”
“I know nothing except that I am wicked, and my mother is dying!” She said it in low, even tones, looking away from him.
The gong struck again, with a startling clash.
The engine shrieked40; a cloud of steam rose from under the wheels. Rex hurried her into the carriage; there was no one else there. Suddenly she threw herself into his arms.
“Oh! I love you! I love you! One kiss, no; no; on the lips. Good-bye, my own Rex!”
“You will come again?” he said, crushing her to him.
Her eyes looked into his.
“I will come. I love you! Be true to me, Rex. I will come back.”
Her lover could not speak. Doors slamming, and an impatient voice — “Descendez donc, M’sieu!” — roused him; he sprang from the carriage, and the train rolled slowly out of the smoke-filled station.
How heavy the smoke was! Gethryn could hardly breathe — hardly see. He walked away and out into the street. The city was only half awake even yet. After, as it seemed, a long time, he found himself looking at a clock which said a quarter past ten. The winter sunshine slanted41 now on roof and pane42, flooding the western side of the shabby boulevard, dappling the snow with yellow patches. He had stopped in the chilly43 shadow of a gateway44 and was looking vacantly about. He saw the sunshine across the street and shivered where he was, and yet he did not leave the shadow. He stood and watched the sparrows taking bold little baths in the puddles45 of melted snow water. They seemed to enjoy the sunshine, but it was cold in the shade, cold and damp — and the air was hard to breathe. A policeman sauntered by and eyed him curiously46. Rex’s face was haggard and pinched. Why had he stood there in the cold for half an hour, without ever changing his weight from one foot to the other?
The policeman spoke at last, civilly:
“Monsieur!”
Gethryn turned his head.
“Is it that Monsieur seeks the train?” he asked, saluting47.
Rex looked up. He had wandered back to the station. He lifted his hat and answered with the politeness dear to French officials.
“Merci, Monsieur!” It made him cough to speak, and he moved on slowly.
Gethryn would not go home yet. He wanted to be where there was plenty of cool air, and yet he shivered. He drew a deep breath which ended in a pain. How cold the air must be — to pain the chest like that! And yet, there were women wheeling handcarts full of yellow crocus buds about. He stopped and bought some for Yvonne.
“She will like them,” he thought. “Ah!” — he turned away, leaving flowers and money. The old flower-woman crossed herself.
No — he would not go home just yet. The sun shone brightly; men passed, carrying their overcoats on their arms; a steam was rising from the pavements in the Square.
There was a crowd on the Pont au Change. He did not see any face distinctly, but there seemed to be a great many people, leaning over the parapets, looking down the river. He stopped and looked over too. The sun glared on the foul48 water eddying49 in and out among the piles and barges50. Some men were rowing in a boat, furiously. Another boat followed close. A voice close by Gethryn cried, angrily:
“Dieu! who are you shoving?”
Rex moved aside; as he did so a gamin crowded quickly forward and craned over the edge, shouting, “Vive le cadavre!”
“Chut!” said another voice.
“Vive la Mort! Vive la Morgue!” screamed the wretched little creature.
A policeman boxed his ears and pulled him back. The crowd laughed. The voice that had cried, “Chut!” said lower, “What a little devil, that Rigaud!”
Rex moved slowly on.
In the Court of the Louvre were people enough and to spare. Some of them bowed to him; several called him to turn and join them. He lifted his hat to them all, as if he knew them, but passed on without recognizing a soul. The broad pavements were warm and wet, but the air must have been sharp to hurt his chest so. The great pigeons of the Louvre brushed by him. It seemed as if he felt the beat of their wings on his brains. A shabby-looking fellow asked him for a sou — and, taking the coin Rex gave him, shuffled51 off in a hurry; a dog followed him, he stooped and patted it; a horse fell, he went into the street and helped to raise it. He said to a man standing52 by that the harness was too heavy — and the man, looking after him as he walked away, told a friend that there was another crazy foreigner.
Soon after this he found himself on the Quai again, and the sun was sinking behind the dome53 of the Invalides. He decided54 to go home. He wanted to get warm, and yet it seemed as if the air of a room would stifle55 him. However, once more he crossed the Seine, and as he turned in at his own gate he met Clifford, who said something, but Rex pushed past without trying to understand what it was.
He climbed the dreary56 old stairs and came to his silent studio. He sat down by the fireless hearth and gazed at a long, slender glove among the ashes. At his feet her little white satin slippers lay half hidden in the long white fur of the rug.
He felt giddy and weak, and that hard pain in his chest left him no peace. He rose and went into the bedroom. Her ball dress lay where she had thrown it. He flung himself on the bed and buried his face in the rustling57 silk. A faint odor of violets pervaded58 it. He thought of the bouquet59 that had been placed for her at the dinner. Then the flowers reminded him of last summer. He lived over again their gay life — their excursions to Meudon, Sceaux, Versailles with its warm meadows, and cool, dark forests; Fontainebleau, where they lunched under the trees; St Cloud — Oh! he remembered their little quarrel there, and how they made it up on the boat at Suresnes afterward60.
He rose excitedly and went back into the studio; his cheeks were aflame and his breath came sharp and hard. In a corner, with its face to the wall, stood an old, unfinished portrait of Yvonne, begun after one of those idyllic61 summer days.
When Braith walked in, after three times knocking, he found Gethryn painting feverishly62 by the last glimmer63 of daylight on this portrait. The room was full of shadows, and while they spoke it grew quite dark.
That night Braith sat by his side and listened to his incoherent talk, and Dr White came and said “Pleuro-pneumonia” was what ailed64 him. Braith had his traps fetched from his own place and settled down to nurse him.
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1
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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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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wheezing
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 )；哮鸣 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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tingeing
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| vt.着色，使…带上色彩（tinge的现在分词形式） | |
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opalescent
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| adj.乳色的，乳白的 | |
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lashes
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| 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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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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aslant
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| adv.倾斜地；adj.斜的 | |
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desolately
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| 荒凉地，寂寞地 | |
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par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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gutters
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| （路边）排水沟( gutter的名词复数 )； 阴沟； （屋顶的）天沟； 贫贱的境地 | |
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hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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caped
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| 披斗篷的 | |
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lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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25
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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33
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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satchel
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| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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35
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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37
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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38
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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40
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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42
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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43
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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44
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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45
puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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46
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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47
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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48
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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49
eddying
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| 涡流，涡流的形成 | |
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50
barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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51
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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52
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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53
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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54
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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55
stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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56
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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57
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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58
pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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60
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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61
idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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62
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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63
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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64
ailed
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| v.生病( ail的过去式和过去分词 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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