The Count d'Aumenier, living thus retired6, had fallen into rather careless habits after the death of his wife, and the little demoiselle had been brought up indifferently indeed. Dark, brown-eyed, black-haired, she had given promise of beauty to come. Left to her own devices she had acquired accomplishments7 most unusual in that day and by no means feminine. She could ride, shoot, swim, run, fence, much better than she could dance the old courtly minuet, or the new and popular waltz, just beginning to make its appearance. A love of reading and an ancient library in which she had a free range had initiated8 her into many things which the well-brought-up French girl was not supposed to know, and which, indeed, many of them went to their graves without ever finding out. The Count had a well-stored mind, and on occasion he gave the child the benefit of it, while leaving her mainly to her own devices.
Few of the ancient nobility had come back to the neighborhood. Their original holdings had been portioned out among the new creations of the Imperial Wizard, and with them the Count held little intercourse9. Laure d'Aumenier had not reached the marriageable age, else some of the newly made gentry10 would undoubtedly11 have paid court to her. She found companions among the retainers of her father's estate. The devotion of some of them had survived the passionate12 hatreds13 of the revolution and, failing the Marquis, who was the head of the house, they loyally served his brother, and with pride and admiration14 gave something like feudal15 worship and devotion to the little lady.
The Marquis, an old man now, had never forgiven his brother, the Count, for his compromise with principle and for his recognition of the "usurper," as he was pleased to characterize Napoleon. He had refused even to accept that portion of the greatly diminished revenue of the estate which the younger brother had regularly remitted16 to the Marquis' bankers in London. The whole amount lay there untouched and accumulating, although, as were many other emigrés, the Marquis frequently was hard pressed for the bare necessities of life. With every year, as Bonaparte—for that was the only name by which he thought of him—seemed to be more and more thoroughly17 established on the throne, the resentment18 of the Marquis had grown. Latterly he had refused to hold any communication with his brother.
The year before the Battle of the Nations, or just before Napoleon set forth19 on his ill-fated Russian adventure, Count Robert d'Aumenier died. With an idea of amendment20, which showed how his conscience had smitten21 him for his compromise, he left everything he possessed22 to his brother, the Marquis, including his daughter, Laure, who had just reached her sixteenth year. With the will was a letter, begging the Marquis to take the young demoiselle under his charge, to complete that ill-begun and worse-conducted education, the deficiencies of which the father too late realized, in a manner befitting her station, and to provide for her marriage with a proper portion, as if she had been his own daughter. The Marquis had never married himself, lacking the means to support his rank, and it was probable that he never would marry.
The Marquis was at first minded to refuse the bequest23 and to disregard the appeal, but an old retainer of the family, none other than Jean Marteau, the elder, complying with Count Robert's dying wish, had taken the young Countess Laure across the channel, and had quietly left her in her uncle's care, he himself coming back to act as steward24 or agent for the remaining acres of the shrunken Aumenier domain25; for the Marquis, having chosen a course and walked in it for so many years, was not minded even for the sake of being once more the lord of Aumenier to go back to France, since the return involved the recognition of the powers that were.
Old Jean Marteau lived in his modest house between the village and the château. And the château had been closed for the intervening time. Young Jean Marteau, plodding26 along the familiar way, after a day full of striking adventure and fraught27 with important news, instantly noticed the light coming through the half moons in the shutters28 over the windows of the château, as he came around a brow of the hill and overlooked the village, the lake and the castle in the clearing. The village was as dark as the château was light.
Marteau was ineffably29 weary. He had been without sleep for thirty-six hours, he had ridden twenty leagues and walked—Heaven only knew how many miles in addition. He had extricated30 himself from desperate situations only by his courage, daring, and, in one or two cases, by downright fighting, rendered necessary by his determination to acquire accurate information for the Emperor. He had profited, not only by his instruction in the military school, but by his campaigning, and he now carried in his mind a disposition31 of the Russian forces which would be of the utmost value to the Emperor.
The need of some rest, however, was absolute. Marmont's troops, starting out at the same time he had taken his departure, would barely have reached Sézanne by this time, so much more slowly did an army move than a single person. The Emperor, who had intimated that he would remain at Nogent until the next day, would scarcely undertake the march before morning. Aumenier lay off to the northwest of Sézanne, distant a few miles. If the young aide could find something to eat and get a few hours' sleep, he could be at Sézanne before the Emperor arrived and his information would be ready in the very nick of time. With that thought, after staring hard at the château in some little wonderment, he turned aside from the road that led to its entrance and made for the village.
His mother had died the year before; his father and his sister, with one or two attendants, lived alone. There was no noble blood in Marteau's veins32, as noble blood is counted, but his family had been followers33 and dependents of the Aumeniers for as many generations as that family had been domiciled in France. Young Jean Marteau had not only been Laure d'Aumenier's playmate, but he had been her devoted34 slave as well. To what extent that devotion had possessed him he had not known until returning from the military school he had found her gone.
The intercourse between the young people had been of the frankest and pleasantest character, but, in spite of the sturdy respectability of the family and the new principles of equality born of the revolution, young Marteau realized—and if he had failed to do so his father had enlightened him—that there was no more chance of his becoming a suitor, a welcome suitor, that is, for the hand of Laure d'Aumenier than there was of his becoming a Marshal of France.
Indeed, as in the case of many another soldier, that last was not an impossibility. Men infinitely35 more humble36 than he in origin and with less natural ability and greatly inferior education had attained37 that high degree. If Napoleon lived long enough and the wars continued and he had the opportunity, he, too, might achieve that coveted38 distinction. But not even that would make him acceptable to Count Robert, no matter what his career had been; and even if Count Robert could have been persuaded the old Marquis Henri would be doubly impossible.
So, on the whole, Jean Marteau had been glad that Laure d'Aumenier had gone out of his life. He resolved to put her out of his heart in the same way, and he plunged39 with splendid energy into the German campaign of 1813, with its singular alternations of success and failure, of victory and defeat, of glory and shame. He had been lucky enough to win his captain's commission, and now, as a major, with a position on the staff of the Emperor, he could look forward to rapid advancement40 so long as the Emperor lasted. With the bright optimism of youth, even though affairs were now so utterly41 hopeless that the wise old marshals despaired, Marteau felt that his foot was on the first rung of the ladder of fame and prosperity, and, in spite of himself, as he had approached his native village, he had begun to dream again, almost to hope.
There was something ominous42, however, in the appearance of the village in that dark gray evening hour. There were no barking dogs, no clucking hens, no lowing cattle, no sounds of childish laughter, no sturdy-voiced men or softer-spoken women exchanging greetings. The stables and sheds were strangely silent.
The village was a small one. He turned into it, entered the first house, stumbled over a corpse43! The silence was of death. With a beating heart and with a strength he did not know he possessed, he turned aside and ran straight to his father's house.
Standing44 by itself it was a larger, better and more inviting45 house than the others. The gate of the surrounding stone wall was battered46 off the hinges, the front door of the house was open, the garden was trampled47. The house had been half destroyed. A dead dog lay in front of the door. He could see all that in the half light. He ran down the path and burst into the wrecked48 and plundered49 living room. A few feeble embers still glowed in the broad hearth50. From them he lighted a candle standing on the mantel shelf.
The first sight that greeted him was the body of his sister, her torn clothing in frightful51 disarray52, a look of agony and horror upon her white set face under its dishevelled hair. She was stone dead. He knelt down and touched her. She was stone cold, too. He stared at her, a groan53 bursting from his lips. The groan brought forth another sound. Was it an echo? Lifting the candle, he looked about him. In a far corner lay a huddled54 human body. He ran to it and bent55 over it. It was his father. Knowing the house like a book, he ran and fetched some water. There were a few mouthfuls of spirits left in a flask56 of vodka he had found in the Russian's overcoat. He bathed his father's face, forced a few drops of the strong spirit down his throat, and the old man opened his eyes. In the flickering57 light he caught sight of the green cap and coat.
"Curse you," he whispered.
"My father!" cried the young officer. "It is I."
"My son!"
"What has happened?"
"The Cossacks—I fought for the honor of your sister. Where——" the old man's voice faltered58.
"She is dead yonder," answered the son.
"Thank God," came the faint whisper from the father. "Mademoiselle Laure—she—the wagon-train—the castle——"
His voice died away, his eyes closed. Frantically59 the young man recalled his father to his senses again.
"It's no use," whispered the old man, "a ball in the breast. I am going. What do you here?"
"On the service of the Emperor," answered the young officer. "Father, speak to me!"
"Alas—poor—France," came the words slowly, one by one, and then—silence.
Marteau had seen death too many times not to know it now. He laid the old man's head gently down, he straightened his limbs, he went over to the form of the poor girl. To what horrors she had been subjected—like every other woman in the village—before she died! Like his father, he thanked God that she was dead. He lifted her up tenderly and laid her down on a huge settle by the fireplace. He stood a moment, looking from one to the other. The irreligion of the age had not seized him. He knelt down and made a prayer. Having discharged that duty, he lifted his hands to heaven and his lips moved. Was he invoking60 a curse upon these enemies? He turned quickly and went out into the night, drawing the door behind him, fastening it as tight as he could.
He forgot that he was hungry, that he was thirsty, that he was tired, that he was cold. For the moment he almost forgot his duty toward his Emperor and France, as he walked rapidly through the trees toward the great house. But as he walked that stern obligation came back to him. His sister was dead, his father murdered. Well, the first Cossack he came upon should pay. Meanwhile there was his duty. What had his father said?
"The Cossacks—the wagon-train—the Countess Laure."
What did it mean? Part of it was plain enough. The Cossacks had raided the village, his father had been stricken down defending his daughter, his sister had died. That was easy, but the wagon-train, the castle, the Countess Laure? Could she have come back? Was that the occasion for the lights in the château? That body of cavalry61 that he had seen leaving Sacken's men that morning with the civilians—was she that woman? The mystery would be solved at the château. And it was there he had arranged to meet his comrade, anyway.
He stopped and looked back at the devastated63 village. Already a light was blazing in one of the houses. It would soon be afire. He could do nothing then. The château called him. He broke into a run again, heavy-footed and tired out though he was. Around the château in the courtyard were dozens of wagons64. His experienced glance told him that they were army wagons, containing provisions, arms, ammunition65. Some of the covers had been raised to expose the contents. There was not a living man present, and scarcely a living horse. There had been some sort of a battle evidently, for the wagons were in all sorts of confusion and there were dead men and horses everywhere. He did not stop to examine them save to make sure that the dead men were French, proving that the convoy66 had come from Paris. He threaded his way among the wagons and finally reached the steps that led to the broad terrace upon which rose the château.
The main door was open. There were no soldiers about, which struck him as peculiar67, almost terrifying. He went up the steps and across the terrace, and stopped before the building, almost stumbling over the bodies of two men whose uniforms were plainly Russian! He inspected them briefly68 and stepped toward the door of the entrance hall. It was open but dimly lighted, and the light wavered fitfully. The faint illumination came into the hall from a big broad open door upon the right, giving entrance to what had been the great room. Still keeping within the shadow, he moved carefully and noiselessly into the hall, until he could get a view of the room beyond.
A huge fire was burning in the enormous fireplace. The many tables with which the room had been furnished had been pushed together in the center, several tall candles pulled from the candelabra and fastened there by their own melted wax stood upon these tables and added their illumination to the fire-light. Several men in uniforms, two of them rough-coated Cossacks, and two whose dress showed clearly that they belonged to the Russian Imperial Guard, lay on the floor, bound and helpless. A stout69, elderly man, in civilian62 garb70, with a very red face and an angry look, his wig71 awry72, was lashed73 to a chair. Between two ruffianly looking men, who held her firmly, stood a woman.
There were perhaps two dozen other men in the room, unkempt, savage74, brutal75, armed with all sorts of nondescript weapons from ancient pistols to fowling76 pieces, clubs and scythes77. They were all in a state of great excitement, shouting and gesturing madly.
The woman standing between the two soldiers was in the full light. So soon as he caught sight of her Marteau recognized her. It was Laure d'Aumenier. She had grown taller and more beautiful than when he had seen her last as a young girl. She had been handled roughly, her clothes were torn, her hair partially78 unbound. Her captors held her with an iron grasp upon her arms, but she did not flinch79 or murmur80. She held herself as erect81 and looked as imperious as if she had been on a throne.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
outlets
|
|
| n.出口( outlet的名词复数 )；经销店；插座；廉价经销店 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
consulate
|
|
| n.领事馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
albeit
|
|
| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
submission
|
|
| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
dames
|
|
| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
accomplishments
|
|
| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
initiated
|
|
| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
gentry
|
|
| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
undoubtedly
|
|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
hatreds
|
|
| n.仇恨，憎恶( hatred的名词复数 )；厌恶的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
feudal
|
|
| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
remitted
|
|
| v.免除（债务），宽恕( remit的过去式和过去分词 )；使某事缓和；寄回，传送 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
amendment
|
|
| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
smitten
|
|
| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
bequest
|
|
| n.遗赠；遗产，遗物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
steward
|
|
| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
domain
|
|
| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
plodding
|
|
| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
fraught
|
|
| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
ineffably
|
|
| adv.难以言喻地，因神圣而不容称呼地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
extricated
|
|
| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
followers
|
|
| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
attained
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
coveted
|
|
| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
advancement
|
|
| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
ominous
|
|
| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
inviting
|
|
| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
battered
|
|
| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
trampled
|
|
| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
wrecked
|
|
| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
plundered
|
|
| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
disarray
|
|
| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
groan
|
|
| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
huddled
|
|
| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
flask
|
|
| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
flickering
|
|
| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
faltered
|
|
| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
frantically
|
|
| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
invoking
|
|
| v.援引( invoke的现在分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
cavalry
|
|
| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
civilian
|
|
| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
devastated
|
|
| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
wagons
|
|
| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
ammunition
|
|
| n.军火，弹药 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
convoy
|
|
| vt.护送，护卫，护航；n.护送；护送队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
garb
|
|
| n.服装，装束 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
wig
|
|
| n.假发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
awry
|
|
| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
lashed
|
|
| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
brutal
|
|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
fowling
|
|
| 捕鸟，打鸟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
scythes
|
|
| n.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的名词复数 )v.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
partially
|
|
| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
flinch
|
|
| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |