MICHAEL was held before the Emir’s throne, at the foot of the terrace, his hands bound behind his back. His mother overcome at last by mental and physical torture, had sunk to the ground, daring neither to look nor listen.
“Look while you may,” exclaimed Feofar-Kahn, stretching his arm towards Michael in a threatening manner. Doubtless Ivan Ogareff, being well acquainted with Tartar customs, had taken in the full meaning of these words, for his lips curled for an instant in a cruel smile; he then took his place by Feofar-Khan.
A trumpet1 call was heard. This was the signal for the amusements to begin. “Here comes the ballet,” said Alcide to Blount; “but, contrary to our customs, these barbarians2 give it before the drama.”
Michael had been commanded to look at everything. He looked. A troop of dancers poured into the open space before the Emir’s tent. Different Tartar instruments, the “doutare,” a long-handled guitar, the “kobize,” a kind of violoncello, the “tschibyzga,” a long reed flute3; wind instruments, tom-toms, tambourines5, united with the deep voices of the singers, formed a strange harmony. Added to this were the strains of an aerial orchestra, composed of a dozen kites, which, fastened by strings6 to their centers, resounded7 in the breeze like AEolian harps8.
Then the dancers began. The performers were all of Persian origin; they were no longer slaves, but exercised their profession at liberty. Formerly9 they figured officially in the ceremonies at the court of Teheran, but since the accession of the reigning10 family, banished11 or treated with contempt, they had been compelled to seek their fortune elsewhere. They wore the national costume, and were adorned12 with a profusion13 of jewels. Little triangles of gold, studded with jewels, glittered in their ears. Circles of silver, marked with black, surrounded their necks and legs.
These performers gracefully14 executed various dances, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups. Their faces were uncovered, but from time to time they threw a light veil over their heads, and a gauze cloud passed over their bright eyes as smoke over a starry15 sky. Some of these Persians wore leathern belts embroidered16 with pearls, from which hung little triangular17 bags. From these bags, embroidered with golden filigree18, they drew long narrow bands of scarlet19 silk, on which were braided verses of the Koran. These bands, which they held between them, formed a belt under which the other dancers darted20; and, as they passed each verse, following the precept21 it contained, they either prostrated22 themselves on the earth or lightly bounded upwards24, as though to take a place among the houris of Mohammed’s heaven.
But what was remarkable25, and what struck Alcide, was that the Persians appeared rather indolent than fiery26. Their passion had deserted27 them, and, by the kind of dances as well as by their execution, they recalled rather the calm and self-possessed nauch girls of India than the impassioned dancers of Egypt.
When this was over, a stern voice was heard saying:
“Look while you may!”
The man who repeated the Emir’s words — a tall spare Tartar — was he who carried out the sentences of Feofar-Khan against offenders28. He had taken his place behind Michael, holding in his hand a broad curved saber, one of those Damascene blades which are forged by the celebrated29 armorers of Karschi or Hissar.
Behind him guards were carrying a tripod supporting a chafing-dish filled with live coals. No smoke arose from this, but a light vapor30 surrounded it, due to the incineration of a certain aromatic31 and resinous32 substance which he had thrown on the surface.
The Persians were succeeded by another party of dancers, whom Michael recognized. The journalists also appeared to recognize them, for Blount said to his companion, “These are the Tsiganes of Nijni-Novgorod.”
“No doubt of it,” cried Alcide. “Their eyes, I imagine, bring more money to these spies than their legs.”
In putting them down as agents in the Emir’s service, Alcide Jolivet was, by all accounts, not mistaken.
In the first rank of the Tsiganes, Sangarre appeared, superb in her strange and picturesque33 costume, which set off still further her remarkable beauty.
Sangarre did not dance, but she stood as a statue in the midst of the performers, whose style of dancing was a combination of that of all those countries through which their race had passed — Turkey, Bohemia, Egypt, Italy, and Spain. They were enlivened by the sound of cymbals34, which clashed on their arms, and by the hollow sounds of the “daires”— a sort of tambourine4 played with the fingers.
Sangarre, holding one of those daires, which she played between her hands, encouraged this troupe36 of veritable corybantes. A young Tsigane, of about fifteen years of age, then advanced. He held in his hand a “doutare,” strings of which he made to vibrate by a simple movement of the nails. He sung. During the singing of each couplet, of very peculiar37 rhythm, a dancer took her position by him and remained there immovable, listening to him, but each time that the burden came from the lips of the young singer, she resumed her dance, dinning38 in his ears with her daire, and deafening39 him with the clashing of her cymbals. Then, after the last chorus, the remainder surrounded the Tsigane in the windings40 of their dance.
At that moment a shower of gold fell from the hands of the Emir and his train, and from the hands of his officers of all ranks; to the noise which the pieces made as they struck the cymbals of the dancers, being added the last murmurs41 of the doutares and tambourines.
“Lavish as robbers,” said Alcide in the ear of his companion. And in fact it was the result of plunder42 which was falling; for, with the Tartar tomans and sequins, rained also Russian ducats and roubles.
Then silence followed for an instant, and the voice of the executioner, who laid his hand on Michael’s shoulder, once more pronounced the words, which this repetition rendered more and more sinister43:
“Look while you may”
But this time Alcide observed that the executioner no longer held the saber bare in his hand.
Meanwhile the sun had sunk behind the horizon. A semi-obscurity began to envelop44 the plain. The mass of cedars45 and pines became blacker and blacker, and the waters of the Tom, totally obscured in the distance, mingled46 with the approaching shadows.
But at that instant several hundreds of slaves, bearing lighted torches, entered the square. Led by Sangarre, Tsiganes and Persians reappeared before the Emir’s throne, and showed off, by the contrast, their dances of styles so different. The instruments of the Tartar orchestra sounded forth47 in harmony still more savage48, accompanied by the guttural cries of the singers. The kites, which had fallen to the ground, once more winged their way into the sky, each bearing a parti-colored lantern, and under a fresher breeze their harps vibrated with intenser sound in the midst of the aerial illumination.
Then a squadron of Tartars, in their brilliant uniforms, mingled in the dances, whose wild fury was increasing rapidly, and then began a performance which produced a very strange effect. Soldiers came on the ground, armed with bare sabers and long pistols, and, as they executed dances, they made the air re-echo with the sudden detonations49 of their firearms, which immediately set going the rumbling50 of the tambourines, and grumblings of the daires, and the gnashing of doutares.
Their arms, covered with a colored powder of some metallic51 ingredient, after the Chinese fashion, threw long jets — red, green, and blue — so that the groups of dancers seemed to be in the midst of fireworks. In some respects, this performance recalled the military dance of the ancients, in the midst of naked swords; but this Tartar dance was rendered yet more fantastic by the colored fire, which wound, serpent-like, above the dancers, whose dresses seemed to be embroidered with fiery hems23. It was like a kaleidoscope of sparks, whose infinite combinations varied52 at each movement of the dancers.
Though it may be thought that a Parisian reporter would be perfectly53 hardened to any scenic54 effect, which our modern ideas have carried so far, yet Alcide Jolivet could not restrain a slight movement of the head, which at home, between the Boulevard Montmartre and La Madeleine would have said —“Very fair, very fair.”
Then, suddenly, at a signal, all the lights of the fantasia were extinguished, the dances ceased, and the performers disappeared. The ceremony was over, and the torches alone lighted up the plateau, which a few instants before had been so brilliantly illuminated55.
On a sign from the Emir, Michael was led into the middle of the square.
“Blount,” said Alcide to his companion, “are you going to see the end of all this?”
“No, that I am not,” replied Blount.
“The readers of the Daily Telegraph are, I hope, not very eager for the details of an execution a la mode Tartare?”
“No more than your cousin!”
“Poor fellow!” added Alcide, as he watched Michael. “That valiant56 soldier should have fallen on the field of battle!”
“Can we do nothing to save him?” said Blount.
“Nothing!”
The reporters recalled Michael’s generous conduct towards them; they knew now through what trials he must have passed, ever obedient to his duty; and in the midst of these Tartars, to whom pity is unknown, they could do nothing for him. Having little desire to be present at the torture reserved for the unfortunate man, they returned to the town. An hour later, they were on the road to Irkutsk, for it was among the Russians that they intended to follow what Alcide called, by anticipation57, “the campaign of revenge.”
Meantime, Michael was standing58 ready, his eyes returning the Emir’s haughty59 glance, while his countenance60 assumed an expression of intense scorn whenever he cast his looks on Ivan Ogareff. He was prepared to die, yet not a single sign of weakness escaped him.
The spectators, waiting around the square, as well as Feofar-Khan’s body-guard, to whom this execution was only one of the attractions, were eagerly expecting it. Then, their curiosity satisfied, they would rush off to enjoy the pleasures of intoxication61.
The Emir made a sign. Michael was thrust forward by his guards to the foot of the terrace, and Feofar said to him, “You came to see our goings out and comings in, Russian spy. You have seen for the last time. In an instant your eyes will be forever shut to the day.”
Michael’s fate was to be not death, but blindness; loss of sight, more terrible perhaps than loss of life. The unhappy man was condemned62 to be blinded.
However, on hearing the Emir’s sentence Michael’s heart did not grow faint. He remained unmoved, his eyes wide open, as though he wished to concentrate his whole life into one last look. To entreat63 pity from these savage men would be useless, besides, it would be unworthy of him. He did not even think of it. His thoughts were condensed on his mission, which had apparently64 so completely failed; on his mother, on Nadia, whom he should never more see! But he let no sign appear of the emotion he felt. Then, a feeling of vengeance65 to be accomplished66 came over him. “Ivan,” said he, in a stern voice, “Ivan the Traitor67, the last menace of my eyes shall be for you!”
Ivan Ogareff shrugged68 his shoulders.
But Michael was not to be looking at Ivan when his eyes were put out. Marfa Strogoff stood before him.
“My mother!” cried he. “Yes! yes! my last glance shall be for you, and not for this wretch69! Stay there, before me! Now I see once more your well-beloved face! Now shall my eyes close as they rest upon it . . .!”
The old woman, without uttering a word, advanced.
“Take that woman away!” said Ivan.
Two soldiers were about to seize her, but she stepped back and remained standing a few paces from Michael.
The executioner appeared. This time, he held his saber bare in his hand, and this saber he had just drawn70 from the chafing-dish, where he had brought it to a white heat. Michael was going to be blinded in the Tartar fashion, with a hot blade passed before his eyes!
Michael did not attempt to resist. Nothing existed before his eyes but his mother, whom his eyes seemed to devour71. All his life was in that last look.
Marfa Strogoff, her eyes open wide, her arms extended towards where he stood, was gazing at him. The incandescent72 blade passed before Michael’s eyes.
A despairing cry was heard. His aged35 mother fell senseless to the ground. Michael Strogoff was blind.
His orders executed, the Emir retired73 with his train. There remained in the square only Ivan Ogareff and the torch bearers. Did the wretch intend to insult his victim yet further, and yet to give him a parting blow?
Ivan Ogareff slowly approached Michael, who, feeling him coming, drew himself up. Ivan drew from his pocket the Imperial letter, he opened it, and with supreme74 irony75 he held it up before the sightless eyes of the Czar’s courier, saying, “Read, now, Michael Strogoff, read, and go and repeat at Irkutsk what you have read. The true Courier of the Czar is Ivan Ogareff.”
This said, the traitor thrust the letter into his breast. Then, without looking round he left the square, followed by the torch-bearers.
Michael was left alone, at a few paces from his mother, lying lifeless, perhaps dead. He heard in the distance cries and songs, the varied noises of a wild debauch76. Tomsk, illuminated, glittered and gleamed.
Michael listened. The square was silent and deserted. He went, groping his way, towards the place where his mother had fallen. He found her with his hand, he bent77 over her, he put his face close to hers, he listened for the beating of her heart. Then he murmured a few words.
Did Marfa still live, and did she hear her son’s words? Whether she did so or not, she made not the slightest movement. Michael kissed her forehead and her white locks. He then raised himself, and, groping with his foot, trying to stretch out his hand to guide himself, he walked by degrees to the edge of the square.
Suddenly Nadia appeared. She walked straight to her companion. A knife in her hand cut the cords which bound Michael’s arms. The blind man knew not who had freed him, for Nadia had not spoken a word.
But this done: “Brother!” said she.
“Nadia!” murmured Michael, “Nadia!”
“Come, brother,” replied Nadia, “use my eyes whilst yours sleep. I will lead you to Irkutsk.”
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收听单词发音
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1
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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2
barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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3
flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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4
tambourine
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| n.铃鼓，手鼓 | |
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5
tambourines
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| n.铃鼓，手鼓( tambourine的名词复数 )；（鸣声似铃鼓的）白胸森鸠 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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7
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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8
harps
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| abbr.harpsichord 拨弦古钢琴n.竖琴( harp的名词复数 ) | |
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9
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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10
reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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11
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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14
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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15
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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16
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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17
triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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18
filigree
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| n.金银丝做的工艺品；v.用金银细丝饰品装饰；用华而不实的饰品装饰；adj.金银细丝工艺的 | |
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19
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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20
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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21
precept
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| n.戒律；格言 | |
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22
prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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23
hems
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| 布的褶边，贴边( hem的名词复数 )； 短促的咳嗽 | |
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24
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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25
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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26
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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27
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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28
offenders
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| n.冒犯者( offender的名词复数 )；犯规者；罪犯；妨害…的人（或事物） | |
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29
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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30
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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31
aromatic
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| adj.芳香的，有香味的 | |
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32
resinous
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| adj.树脂的，树脂质的，树脂制的 | |
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33
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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34
cymbals
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| pl.铙钹 | |
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35
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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36
troupe
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| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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38
dinning
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| vt.喧闹（din的现在分词形式） | |
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39
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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40
windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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41
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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42
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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43
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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44
envelop
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| vt.包，封，遮盖；包围 | |
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45
cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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46
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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47
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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48
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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49
detonations
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| n.爆炸 （声）( detonation的名词复数 ) | |
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50
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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51
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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52
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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53
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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54
scenic
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| adj.自然景色的，景色优美的 | |
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55
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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56
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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57
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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58
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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59
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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60
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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61
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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62
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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63
entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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64
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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65
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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66
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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67
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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68
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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69
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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70
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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71
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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72
incandescent
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| adj.遇热发光的， 白炽的，感情强烈的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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debauch
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| v.使堕落，放纵 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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