But it was vain struggling against the influence that was stealing over me, and I was soon in a profound and dreamless slumber10.
Madame awoke me at last, in a huge fuss. She got out all our things and hurried them away to a close carriage which was awaiting us. It was still dark and starless. We got along the platform, I half asleep, the porter carrying our rugs, by the glare of a pair of gas-jets in the wall, and out by a small door at the end.
I remember that Madame, contrary to her wont11, gave the man some money. By the puzzling light of the carriage-lamps we got in and took our seats.
“Go on,” screamed Madame, and drew up the window with a great chuck; and we were enclosed in darkness and silence, the most favourable12 conditions for thought.
My sleep had not restored me as it might; I felt feverish13, fatigued14, and still very drowsy, though unable to sleep as I had done.
I dozed16 by fits and starts, and lay awake, or half-awake, sometimes, not thinking but in a way imagining what kind of a place Dover would be; but too tired and listless to ask Madame any questions, and merely seeing the hedges, grey in the lamplight, glide18 backward into darkness, as I leaned back.
We turned off the main road, at right angles, and drew uup.
“Get down and poosh it, it is open,” screamed Madame from the window.
A gate, I suppose, was thus passed; for when we resumed our brisk trot19, Madame bawled20 across the carriage —
“We are now in the ‘otel grounds.”
And so all again was darkness and silence, and I fell into another doze17, from which, on waking, I found that we had come to a standstill, and Madame was standing21 on the low step of an open door, paying the driver. She, herself, pulled her box and the bag in. I was too tired to care what had become of the rest of our luggage.
I descended22, glancing to the right and left, but there was nothing visible but a patch of light from the lamps on a paved ground and on the wall.
We slipped into the hall or vestibule, and Madame shut the door, and I thought I heard the key turn in it. We were in total darkness.
“Where are the lights, Madame — where are the people?” I asked, more awake than I had been.
“’Tis pass three o’clock, cheaile, bote there is always light here.” She was groping at the side; and in a moment more lighted a lucifer match, and so a bedroom candle.
We were in a flagged lobby, under an archway at the right, and at the left of which opened long flagged passages, lost in darkness; a winding24 stair, barely wide enough to admit Madame, dragging her box, led upward under a doorway25, in a corner at the right.
“Come, dear cheaile, take a your bag; don’t mind the rugs, they are safe enough.”
“But where are we to go? There is no one!” I said, looking round in wonder. It certainly was a strange reception at an hotel.
“Never mind, my dear cheaile. They know me here, and I have always the same room ready when I write for it. Follow me quaitely.”
So she mounted, carrying the candle. The stair was steep, and the march long. We halted at the second landing, and entered a gaunt, grimy passage. All the way up we had not heard a single sound of life, nor seen a human being, nor so much as passed a gaslight.
“Voilà! Here ’tis, my dear old room. Enter, dearest Maud.”
And so I did. The room was large and lofty, but shabby and dismal26. There was a tall four-post bed, with its foot beside the window, hung with dark-green curtains, of some plush or velvet27 texture28, that looked like a dusty pall29. The remaining furniture was scant30 and old, and a ravelled square of threadbare carpet covered a patch of floor at the bedside. The room was grim and large, and had a cold, vault-like atmosphere, as if long uninhabited; but there were cinders31 in the grate and under it. The imperfect light of our mutton-fat candle made all this look still more comfortless.
Madame placed the candle on the chimneypiece, locked the door, and put the key in her pocket.
“I always do so in ‘otel,” said she, with a wink32 at me.
And, then with a long “ha!” expressive33 of fatigue15 and relief, she threw herself into a chair.
“So ’ere we are at last!” said she; “I’m glad. There’s your bed, Maud. Mine is in the dressing-room.”
She took the candle, and I went in with her. A shabby press-bed, a chair, and table were all its furniture; it was rather a closet than a dressing-room, and had no door except that through which we had entered. So we returned, and very tired, wondering, I sat down on the side of my bed and yawned.
“I hope they will call us in time for the packet,” I said.
“Oh yes, they never fail,” she answered, looking steadfastly34 on her box, which she was diligently35 uncording.
Uninviting as was my bed, I was longing36 to lie down in it; and having made those ablutions which our journey rendered necessary, I at length lay down, having first religiously stuck my talismanic37 pin, with the head of sealing-wax, into the bolster38.
Nothing escaped the restless eye of Madame.
“Wat is that, dear cheaile?” she enquired39, drawing near and scrutinising the head of the gipsy charm, which showed like a little ladybird newly lighted on the sheet.
“Nothing — a charm — folly40. Pray, Madame, allow me to go to sleep.”
So, with another look and a little twiddle between her finger and thumb, she seemed satisfied; but, unhappily for me, she did not seem at all sleepy. She busied herself in unpacking41 and displaying over the back of the chair a whole series of London purchases — silk dresses, a shawl, a sort of lace demi-coiffure then in vogue42, and a variety of other articles.
The vainest and most slammakin of women — the merest slut at home, a milliner’s lay figure out of doors — she had one square foot of looking-glass upon the chimneypiece, and therein tried effects, and conjured43 up grotesque44 simpers upon her sinister45 and weary face.
I knew that the sure way to prolong this worry was to express my uneasiness under it, so I bore it as quietly as I could; and at last fell fast asleep with the gaunt image of Madame, with a festoon of grey silk with a cerise stripe, pinched up in her finger and thumb, and smiling over her shoulder across it into the little shaving-glass that stood on the chimney.
I awoke suddenly in the morning, and sat up in my bed, having for a moment forgotten all about our travelling. A moment more, however, brought it all back again.
“Are we in time, Madame?”
“For the packet?” she enquired, with one of her charming smiles, and cutting a caper46 on the floor. “To be sure; you don’t suppose they would forget. We have two hours yet to wait.”
“Can we see the sea from the window?”
“No, dearest cheaile; you will see’t time enough.”
“I’d like to get up,” I said.
“Time enough, my dear Maud; you are fatigue; you are sure you feel quite well?”
“Well enough to get up; I should be better, I think, out of bed.”
“There is no hurry, you know; you need not even go by the next packet. Your uncle, he tell me, I may use my discretion47.”
“Is there any water?”
“They will bring some.”
“Please, Madame, ring the bell.”
She pulled it with alacrity48. I afterwards learnt that it did not ring.
“What has become of my gipsy pin?” I demanded, with an unaccountable sinking of the heart.
“Oh! the little pin with the red top? maybe it ‘as fall on the ground; we weel find when you get up.”
I suspected that she had taken it merely to spite me. It would have been quite the ting she would have liked. I cannot describe to you how the loss of this little “charm” depressed49 and excited me. I searched the bed; I turned over all the bed-clothes; I searched in and outside; at last I gave up.
“How odious50!” I cried; “somebody has stolen it merely to vex51 me.”
And, like a fool as I was, I threw myself on my face on the bed and wept, partly in anger, partly in dismay.
After a time, however, this blew over. I had a hope of recovering it. If Madame had stolen it, it would turn up yet. But in the meantime its disappearance52 troubled me like an omen23.
“I am afraid, my dear cheaile, you are not very well. It is really very odd you should make such a fuss about a pin! Nobody would believe! Do you not theenk it would be a good plan to take a your breakfast in your bed?”
She continued to urge this point for some time. At last, however, having by this time recovered my self-command, and resolved to preserve ostensibly fair terms with Madame, who could contribute so essentially53 to make me wretched during the rest of my journey, and possibly to prejudice me very seriously on my arrival, I said quietly —
“Well, Madame, I know it is very silly; but I had kept that foolish little pin so long and so carefully, that I had grown quite fond of it; but I suppose it is lost, and I must content myself, though I cannot laugh as you do. So I will get up now, and dress.”
“I think you will do well to get all the repose54 you can,” answered Madame; “but as you please,” she aded, observing that I was getting up.
So soon as I had got some of my things on, I said —
“Is there a pretty view from the window?”
“No,” said Madame.
I looked out and saw a dreary55 quadrangle of cut stone, in one side of which my window was placed. As I looked a dream rose up before me.
“This hotel,” I said, in a puzzled way. “Is it a hotel? Why this is just like — it is the inner court of Bartram–Haugh!”
Madame clapped her large hands together, made a fantastic chassé on the floor, burst into a great nasal laugh like the scream of a parrot, and then said —
“Well, dearest Maud, is not clever trick?”
I was so utterly56 confounded that I could only stare about me in stupid silence, a spectacle which renewed Madame’s peals57 of laughter.
“We are at Bartram–Haugh!” I repeated, in utter consternation58. “How was this done?”
I had no reply but shrieks59 of laughter, and one of those Walpurgis dances in which she excelled.
“It is a mistake — is it? What is it?”
“All a mistake, of course. Bartram–Haugh, it is so like Dover, as all philosophers know.”
I sat down in total silence, looking out into the deep and dark enclosure, and trying to comprehend the reality and the meaning of all this.
“Well, Madame, I suppose you will be able to satisfy my uncle of your fidelity60 and intelligence. But to me it seems that his money has been ill-spent, and his directions anything but well observed.”
“Ah, ha! Never mind; I think he will forgive me,” laughed Madame.
Her tone frightened me. I began to think, with a vague but overpowering sense of danger, that she had acted under the Machiavellian61 directions of her superior.
“You have brought me back, then, by my uncle’s orders?”
“Did I say so?”
“No; but what you have said can have no other meaning, though I can’t believe it. And why have I been brought here? What is the object of all this duplicity and truck. I will know. It is not possible that my uncle, a gentleman and a kinsman62, can be privy63 to so disreputable a manoeuvre64.”
“First you will eat your breakfast, dear Maud; next you can tell your story to your uncle, Monsieur Ruthyn; and then you shall hear what he thinks of my so terrible misconduct. What nonsense, cheaile! Can you not think how many things may ‘appen to change a your uncle’s plans? Is he not in danger to be arrest? Bah! You are cheaile still; you cannot have intelligence more than a cheaile. Dress yourself, and I will order breakfast.”
I could not comprehend the strategy which had been practised on me. Why had I been so shamelessly deceived? If it were decided65 that I should remain here, for what imaginable reason had I been sent so far on my journey to France? Why had I been conveyed back with such mystery? Why was I removed to this uncomfortable and desolate66 room, on the same floor with the apartment in which Clarke had met his death, and with no window commanding the front of the house, and no view but the deep and weed-choked court, that looked like a deserted67 churchyard in a city?
“I suppose I may go to my own room?” I said.
“Not to-day, my dear cheaile, for it was all disarrange when we go ‘way; ’twill be ready again in two three days.”?
“Where is Mary Quince?” I asked.
“Mary Quince! — she has follow us to France,” said Madame, making what in Ireland they call a bull.
“They are not sure where they will go or what will do for day or two more. I will go and get breakfast. Adieu for a moment.”
Madame was out of the door as she said this, and I thought I heard the key turn in the lock.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
irresistibly
|
|
| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
drowsy
|
|
| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
ruminating
|
|
| v.沉思( ruminate的现在分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
enveloped
|
|
| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
flask
|
|
| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
aroma
|
|
| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
slumber
|
|
| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
fatigued
|
|
| adj. 疲乏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
dozed
|
|
| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
doze
|
|
| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
glide
|
|
| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
trot
|
|
| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
bawled
|
|
| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
omen
|
|
| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
texture
|
|
| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
pall
|
|
| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
scant
|
|
| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
cinders
|
|
| n.煤渣( cinder的名词复数 )；炭渣；煤渣路；煤渣跑道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
wink
|
|
| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
expressive
|
|
| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
steadfastly
|
|
| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
diligently
|
|
| ad.industriously;carefully | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
talismanic
|
|
| adj.护身符的，避邪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
bolster
|
|
| n.枕垫；v.支持，鼓励 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
enquired
|
|
| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
unpacking
|
|
| n.取出货物，拆包[箱]v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的现在分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
Vogue
|
|
| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
conjured
|
|
| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
grotesque
|
|
| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
caper
|
|
| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
discretion
|
|
| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
alacrity
|
|
| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
odious
|
|
| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
vex
|
|
| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
disappearance
|
|
| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
essentially
|
|
| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
peals
|
|
| n.（声音大而持续或重复的）洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 )；隆隆声；洪亮的钟声；钟乐v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
consternation
|
|
| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
shrieks
|
|
| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
fidelity
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
machiavellian
|
|
| adj.权谋的，狡诈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
kinsman
|
|
| n.男亲属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
privy
|
|
| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
manoeuvre
|
|
| n.策略，调动；v.用策略，调动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |