“You see, I have come. I thought I ought to come. I do not think I am altogether innocent of what has happened. I know: I have done what was my fate in order that you should be to me what you are now. My attitude has put thoughts into your head which you would not have had otherwise.”
He looked as if he did not understand. She continued:
“I was selfish, I was imprudent. You were agreeable to me; I liked your wit; I could not get along without you. I have done what I could to attract you, to retain you. I was a coquette — not coldly, nor perfidiously4, but a coquette.”
He shook his head, denying that he ever had seen a sign of this.
“Yes, I was a coquette. Yet it was not my habit. But I was a coquette with you. I do not say that you have tried to take advantage of it, as you had the right to do, nor that you are vain about it. I have not remarked vanity in you. It may be possible that you had not noticed. Superior men sometimes lack cleverness. But I know very well that I was not as I should have been, and I beg your pardon. That is the reason why I came. Let us be good friends, since there is yet time.”
He repeated, with sombre softness, that he loved her. The first hours of that love had been easy and delightful5. He had only desired to see her, and to see her again. But soon she had troubled him. The evil had come suddenly and violently one day on the terrace of Fiesole. And now he had not the courage to suffer and say nothing. He had not come with a fixed6 design. If he spoke7 of his passion he spoke by force and in spite of himself; in the strong necessity of talking of her to herself, since she was for him the only being in the world. His life was no longer in himself, it was in her. She should know it, then, that he was in love with her, not with vague tenderness, but with cruel ardor8. Alas9! his imagination was exact and precise. He saw her continually, and she tortured him.
And then it seemed to him that they might have joys which should make life worth living. Their existence might be a work of art, beautiful and hidden. They would think, comprehend, and feel together. It would be a marvellous world of emotions and ideas.
“We could make of life a delightful garden.”
She feigned10 to think that the dream was innocent.
“You know very well that I am susceptible11 to the charm of your mind. It has become a necessity to see you and hear you. I have allowed this to be only too plain to you. Count upon my friendship and do not torment12 yourself.” She extended her hand to him. He did not take it, but replied, brusquely:
“I do not desire your friendship. I will not have it. I must have you entirely13 or never see you again. You know that very well. Why do you extend your hand to me with derisive14 phrases? Whether you wished it or not, you have made me desperately15 in love with you. You have become my evil, my suffering, my torture, and you ask me to be an agreeable friend. Now you are coquettish and cruel. If you can not love me, let me go; I will go, I do not know where, to forget and hate you. For I have against you a latent feeling of hatred16 and anger. Oh, I love you, I love you!”
She believed what he was saying, feared that he might go, and feared the sadness of living without him. She replied:
“I found you in my path. I do not wish to lose you. No, I do not wish to lose you.”
Timid yet violent, he stammered17; the words were stifled18 in his throat. Twilight19 descended20 from the far-off mountains, and the last reflections of the sun became pallid21 in the east. She said:
“If you knew my life, if you had seen how empty it was before I knew you, you would know what you are to me, and would not think of abandoning me.”
But, with the tranquil22 tone of her voice and with the rustle23 of her skirts on the pavement, she irritated him.
He told her how he suffered. He knew now the divine malady24 of love.
“The grace of your thoughts, your magnificent courage, your superb pride, I inhale25 them like a perfume. It seems to me when you speak that your mind is floating on your lips. Your mind is for me only the odor of your beauty. I have retained the instincts of a primitive26 man; you have reawakened them. I feel that I love you with savage27 simplicity28.”
She looked at him softly and said nothing. They saw the lights of evening, and heard lugubrious29 songs coming toward them. And then, like spectres chased by the wind, appeared the black penitents30. The crucifix was before them. They were Brothers of Mercy, holding torches, singing psalms31 on the way to the cemetery32. In accordance with the Italian custom, the cortege marched quickly. The crosses, the coffin33, the banners, seemed to leap on the deserted34 quay35. Jacques and Therese stood against the wall in order that the funeral train might pass.
The black avalanche36 had disappeared. There were women weeping behind the coffin carried by the black phantoms37, who wore heavy shoes.
Therese sighed:
“What will be the use of having tormented38 ourselves in this world?”
He looked as if he had not heard, and said:
“Before I knew you I was not unhappy. I liked life. I was retained in it by dreams. I liked forms, and the mind in forms, the appearances that caress39 and flatter. I had the joy of seeing and of dreaming. I enjoyed everything and depended upon nothing. My desires, abundant and light, I gratified without fatigue40. I was interested in everything and wished for nothing. One suffers only through the will. Without knowing it, I was happy. Oh, it was not much, it was only enough to live. Now I have no joy in life. My pleasures, the interest that I took in the images of life and of art, the vivid amusement of creating with my hands the figures of my dreams — you have made me lose everything and have not left me even regret. I do not want my liberty and tranquillity41 again. It seems to me that before I knew you I did not live; and now that I feel that I am living, I can not live either far from you or near you. I am more wretched than the beggars we saw on the road to Ema. They had air to breathe, and I can breathe only you, whom I have not. Yet I am glad to have known you. That alone counts in my existence. A moment ago I thought I hated you. I was wrong; I adore you, and I bless you for the harm you have done me. I love all that comes to me from you.”
They were nearing the black trees at the entrance to San Niccola bridge. On the other side of the river the vague fields displayed their sadness, intensified42 by night. Seeing that he was calm and full of a soft languor43, she thought that his love, all imagination, had fled in words, and that his desires had become only a reverie. She had not expected so prompt a resignation. It almost disappointed her to escape the danger she had feared.
She extended her hand to him, more boldly this time than before.
“Then, let us be friends. It is late. Let us return. Take me to my carriage. I shall be what I have been to you, an excellent friend. You have not displeased44 me.”
But he led her to the fields, in the growing solitude45 of the shore.
“No, I will not let you go without having told you what I wish to say. But I know no longer how to speak; I can not find the words. I love you. I wish to know that you are mine. I swear to you that I will not live another night in the horror of doubting it.”
He pressed her in his arms; and seeking the light of her eyes through the obscurity of her veil, said “You must love me. I desire you to love me, and it is your fault, for you have desired it too. Say that you are mine. Say it.”
Having gently disengaged herself, she replied, faintly and slowly “I can not! I can not! You see I am acting46 frankly47 with you. I said to you a moment ago that you had not displeased me. But I can not do as you wish.”
And recalling to her thought the absent one who was waiting for her, she repeated: “I can not!” Bending over her he anxiously questioned her eyes, the double stars that trembled and veiled themselves. “Why? You love me, I feel it, I see it. You love me. Why will you do me this wrong?”
He drew her to him, wishing to lay his soul, with his lips, on her veiled lips. She escaped him swiftly, saying: “I can not. Do not ask more. I can not be yours.”
His lips trembled, his face was convulsed. He exclaimed “You have a lover, and you love him. Why do you mock me?”
“I swear to you I have no desire to mock you, and that if I loved any one in the world it would be you.” But he was not listening to her.
“Leave me, leave me!” And he ran toward the dark fields. The Arno formed lagoons48, upon which the moon, half veiled, shone fitfully. He walked through the water and the mud, with a step rapid, blind, like that of one intoxicated49. She took fright and shouted. She called him. But he did not turn his head and made no answer. He fled with alarming recklessness. She ran after him. Her feet were hurt by the stones, and her skirt was heavy with water, but soon she overtook him.
“What were you about to do?”
He looked at her, and saw her fright in her eyes. “Do not be afraid,” he said. “I did not see where I was going. I assure you I did not intend to kill myself. I am desperate, but I am calm. I was only trying to escape from you. I beg your pardon. But I could not see you any longer. Leave me, I pray you. Farewell!”
She replied, agitated50 and trembling: “Come! We shall do what we can.”
He remained sombre and made no reply. She repeated “Come!”
She took his arm. The living warmth of her hand animated51 him. He said:
“Do you wish it?”
“I can not leave you.”
“You promise?”
“I must.”
And, in her anxiety and anguish52, she almost smiled, in thinking that he had succeeded so quickly by his folly53.
“To-morrow?” said he, inquiringly.
She replied quickly, with a defensive54 instinct:
“Oh, no; not to-morrow!”
“You do not love me; you regret that you have promised.”
“No, I do not regret, but —”
He implored55, he supplicated56 her. She looked at him for a moment, turned her head, hesitated, and said, in a low tone:
“Saturday.”
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收听单词发音
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1
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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perfidiously
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| adv.不忠实地，背信地 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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7
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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ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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12
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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13
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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19
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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20
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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21
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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22
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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23
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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24
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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25
inhale
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| v.吸入(气体等)，吸(烟) | |
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26
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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27
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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28
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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29
lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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30
penitents
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| n.后悔者( penitent的名词复数 )；忏悔者 | |
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31
psalms
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| n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 )；圣诗；圣歌；(中的) | |
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32
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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33
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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34
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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37
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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38
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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39
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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40
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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41
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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42
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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44
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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45
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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46
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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47
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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48
lagoons
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| n.污水池( lagoon的名词复数 )；潟湖；（大湖或江河附近的）小而浅的淡水湖；温泉形成的池塘 | |
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49
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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50
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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51
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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52
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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53
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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54
defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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55
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
supplicated
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| v.祈求，哀求，恳求( supplicate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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