It was in a great hall, or chamber1, of the H?tel de Ville that Baville now sat, splendidly apparelled, as was ever his custom when assisting at any great public function. Once more he wore his white satin jacket with, over it, the justaucorps-à-brevet, and with, upon his satin waistcoat, the gold lilies of France emblazoned. Also his hat--which, since he represented the King, he did not remove--was white and fringed with gold lace, his ruffles2 were of the finest point de Malines, his gloves gold-fringed, his sword ivory-hilted and gold-quilloned. The rich costume suited well the handsome features of the terrible Intendant of Languedoc--le fléau du fléau de Dieu, as he had been called. That superb dress, combined with his dark olive complexion3, classic outline, and soft dark eyes, shaded by their long lashes4, caused Baville to look, as indeed he was, the handsomest man in N?mes that day.
Beneath him sat a group of men of the law. Three judges in scarlet5 and ermine; the Procureur du Roi, also in scarlet, but with ermine only at his cuffs6; greffiers and clerks, as well as two men who were termed abréviateurs and practised the shorthand of the day, with, near these, many other persons of importance in N?mes. Sandricourt, the governor of the city, was there, as also Montrevel, his fierce eyes rolling round the Court as they glared from his inflamed7 face; Esprit Fléchier, Bishop8 of N?mes, a good and righteous man, reverencing9 deeply his ancient faith, yet shuddering10 with horror at all that had been done in Languedoc, and was still doing, in the name of that faith; and many more. For it was known to every one in N?mes, Protestant and Catholic alike, that to-day a man was to be tried who was himself a Protestant, an ally of the Camisards in the mountains, an English spy who had been one of those waiting on the shore of the Mediterranean11 to welcome the English invader12. Tried! tried! Nay13, rather brought up for condemnation14 and sentence without any trial to a doom15 which meant either the flames in the market place or the wheel by the cross in the Cathedral Place below the Beau Dieu, or perhaps the lamp whose post was highest. All knew this, Protestant and Catholic alike; all knew, the former shuddering and the latter gloating over the knowledge, that this was to be no trial, but a sentence; no execution, but a murder.
The Court, or great chamber, began to fill with spectators, also with those who were to act as guards to all who presided at or took part in the proceedings16. That guard would indeed be necessary, since none could say, among those who represented what was termed the Partie Royaliste, how soon its services might be required to prevent them from being attacked and done to death, even as, in Mercier's mill yesterday, they had attacked and done to death those of the other side. None could say how, at any instant, sweeping17 down from their mountain homes, from their impenetrable fastnesses and caverns18, might come the dreaded19 attroupés headed by either Cavalier or Roland, with their tigerish blood on fire to revenge the hideous20 massacre21 not yet twenty-four hours old, or with a fierce determination in their hearts to save the man who had been their friend and ally. At any moment a shout might be heard, o'ermastered by the pealing22 of a solemn canticle from a thousand throats; at any moment a psalm23 might break upon the ears of all, as it rose to Him whom they termed the God of the Outcasts, even as, to the swell24 of that hymn25, was heard the clash of steel, the shriek26 of those who were in the avengers' grasp, the cry of despair from those who fell before the avengers' glaives. It was well those guards should be there.
They came in now, the fierce Cravates whose eyes gleamed like dusky stars from beneath their heavy brows, whose faces were as the faces of wild beasts that rend28 and tear others, not so much because rending29 and tearing is necessary to their own preservation30 as because it is their sport and delight; men from whom women drew back shuddering as they passed, and before whom their fellow-men felt their blood tingling31 with the desire to measure themselves. Also the Miquelets were there, the wolves of the Pyrenees who fought with their short, thin-bladed knives, yet slew32 as surely as others slew with heavy-handled swords or by shot of musketoon. Outside were the dragoons and the Chevaux-Légers, even the humble33 militia34 of the province, proud yet half timorous35 of the company they were in.
Scarcely could even Cavalier, the undefeated, have made his way with his followers36 into that hall, or, being there, have done aught to avenge27 the butchery of yesterday or to save the one who would shortly be doomed37 to-day.
The guard set outside and in, every precaution taken. Those of the citizens who chose to enter and were able to find standing38 room were allowed to do so. They were a strangely assorted39 company. Some were of the class known as the nouveaux convertis, men whom misery40 and fear of poverty had turned from Protestantism to Roman Catholicism, men who could not endure to face the flames or the gibbets. These were mostly old--too old to seek the mountains and fight for their lives and their faith, vieillards who told themselves that the only fire they needed was that of their own hearths41 to warm their blood, and who persuaded themselves, though with many a tear dropped unseen, that one religion was much the same as another. Yet by their sides came others now who should have put their weakness to shame: old women brought up in the same faith as they, yet scorning to change to save their skins; women who now mouthed and grimaced43 at Baville as he sat in splendour on the dais which acted as a substitute for Louis' throne, and seemed by that mouthing and grimacing44 to defy the Intendant to injure them that morning. Also, too, there came in shepherds and goatherds clad in fleeces of the Narbonne sheep that grazed on the hills around, with knives in their girdles; men known to be of the new faith, yet men who were safe to-day, since the butchery of yesterday would not bear repetition. Even Montrevel knew this, knew that he dared take no vengeance45 at present on those mountaineers who scowled46 at him over the shoulders of his own scowling47 soldiers, and nodded to one another and whispered as they glanced toward where he sat, while they gazed inquiringly into each other's eyes, as though asking a question. What question? One, perhaps, as to whether it would not be well to o'erleap the barriers and cut from ear to ear the throat of the beribboned and bestarred swashbuckler who sat glaring before them! It may well have been such a question as that.
The soft yet piercing eyes of Baville saw all who entered by the great porte that gave into the chamber--nouveaux convertis, mountaineers, monks48 and priests, prohibited Protestant pasteurs, old women and men, soldiers off duty, and some members of the noblesse (grande et petite) from the surrounding towns and villages. Those eyes missed not one face, yet seemed, judging by the calmness that dwelt in his glance, to observe nothing; a calmness that told no more than a mask or a marble bust49 tells, yet only served to cloak a hell which raged within him. The unhappiest man in Languedoc that day was Baville, the most heartbroken.
Ere the dawn had long been come, the Intendant, a prey50 to his own thoughts, to his own self-reproaches, not knowing whether he had not committed an act that was irreparable in handing Martin over to the judges as an English spy, had left his bed and made his way to the cell in which Martin had been placed.
"I must see him," he whispered to himself as he hastily donned a dark coat and cloak, vastly different from the splendour of the costume he now wore in open court. "I must see him, for I fear--O God, how I fear!--that I have sent to his doom the man who has saved Urbaine. His manner, his words, were the words, the action of truth. What hideous reparation may I not have made!"
Thinking thus, musing51 thus, he had taken his way from the apartment he occupied in the citadel52 when at N?mes to the place where Martin was detained, a room stone-flagged and built into the wall, and strong enough to detain the most ferocious53 and determined54 prisoner who should once find himself within it.
"Unlock the door," he said to the man, one of the local milice, who was appointed to sit outside on guard over the prisoner within. "Open. You know me, do you not?"
"Yes, monseigneur, I know you," the soldier said, springing to his feet and preparing to do as he was bidden. "Yet will monseigneur venture within? The man is, they say, a dangerous----"
"Bah! Open."
And a moment later the Intendant was gazing down upon him whom he had denounced to the law, the man for whose trial, a few hours later, he had already issued orders and summoned the judges.
Upon a low pallet Martin Ashurst lay sleeping as peacefully as though in his own bed in his far-distant home, nor was he disturbed by the grating of the key in the lock nor by the entrance of Baville. He had slept but little for some nights past, and his long rides and exertions56 had worn him out at last.
Gazing down upon him, observing the fair hair and handsome features of his victim, Baville knew that here was no guilty man capable of betraying a young and helpless girl to her death. The calm and peaceful figure beneath him could scarce be that of one who would descend57 to such villainies. Murderers of the young and innocent looked not so innocent themselves! And if any confirmation58 of his thoughts were needed, he had it now. Upon Martin's face there came a soft smile; his lips parted and he murmured the name of Urbaine.
"Urbaine!" he whispered. "Urbaine! My love!"
Had an adder59 stung the Intendant standing there, or the lightning stroke blasted him, neither could have been more terrible. His love! His love! His love! Therefore he must have spoken truth when he said that she was well, was happy.
"God help me," Baville muttered. "Have pity on me."
Even as he did so, Martin's eyes opened and he saw his enemy, his captor, looking down upon him.
"What," he asked, the softness of his face all gone, his glance one of contemptuous disdain61, "do you desire of me? Is my hour come, and are you here to show me the way to the scaffold? Is that the reason of your presence?" and as he spoke60 he rose from the pallet and stood before the other.
"Nay, nay," replied Baville, veiling his handsome face with the end of his cloak, as though he feared his emotion might be too palpable. "But--but--I have judged you too hastily. I have learned that but now. Have indeed misjudged you. All pointed55, all evidence pointed, to one thing: that, by treachery unparalleled, you were the betrayer of Urbaine--to her death."
For a moment the clear eyes of Martin, all traces of slumber62 vanished from them, looked into the equally clear ones of Baville with a glance that the latter could scarce fathom63. Then Martin said, quietly: "And you believed that evidence? Believed that I, whom you had made welcome to your hearth42, had made known to your child, should do that!"
"Almost I was forced to believe," Baville answered, his voice thick and hoarse64, his eyes lowered to the ground. "You were in the mêlée, the attack upon the escort. You were at the Chateau65 St. Servas, and she too was there. After that massacre--I--I--was compelled to believe."
"Do you still believe?"
"No," the other answered, his voice still broken, his eyes still on the ground.
"What has changed your belief against the evidence you speak of?"
"You murmured her name but now in your slumbers66, spoke of her as your love. Is she that? Do you love--her?"
"Yes, I love her. Before all, beyond all else in this world, I love her." Then he turned his face away from Baville and whispered low: "Urbaine, oh, Urbaine!"
The dawn had come now, saffron-hued, bright with the promise of a fair day; had come stealing in through the ?illet high up in the wall. Through the cross of the ?illet the morning sun streamed, also throwing one ray athwart the features of the two men standing there face to face.
"And--and "--whispered Baville now, the voice, usually so rich and sweet, still blurred68 with emotion, almost indistinct, "and she loves--returns--your love?"
"Yes," Martin answered, "yes."
"Has told you so?"
"Ay, with her own sweet lips to mine." Then suddenly, his tone changed, speaking loudly, clearly, he exclaimed: "Man, you can not rob me of that! Make one more victim of me in your shambles69 if you will, yet, as I die, my last word, my last thought, shall be of Urbaine. My recompense, her hate and scorn of you."
"No, no, no!" Baville exclaimed, his hands thrust out before him as though groping for something he could not touch, or as though to fend70 off the denunciation of the other. "No, no, not that. Never that. You must be saved--for--for her sake. For Urbaine. She is my life, my soul. Sorrow must never come anigh her again. Already I have done--O God!--have done her wrong. Enough. Listen. You will be tried to-day, condemned71 as an English spy; the De Maintenon has said it----"
"The De Maintenon!"
"Ay! You are the heir to the wealth of the de Rochebazons--to much of it. You are English. It is enough. Tried, I say, condemned! Yet you shall be saved. Here, in Languedoc, I am Louis. I am France," and once more Baville was himself, erect72, strong, superb. "It shall be done--it--it--it; there must be no sorrow," he repeated, "for Urbaine."
"You forget one thing--the Church."
"The Church! Bah! Theirs is a sentimental73 power; mine is effective, actual. You must be saved. I am Louis, the King, here. Shall be recalled for what I do; be broken, ruined. Yet, until recalled, the King. Go to your trial, but say nothing. Refuse to plead; that shall suffice." Then changing the subject, he said eagerly, feverishly74 almost, "Where is she? Where have you left her?"
"In the mountains. Under the charge of Cavalier."
"Cavalier!" Baville exclaimed recoiling75, his face a picture of suspicion and doubt. "With Cavalier! Under the charge of Cavalier! My God! They will slaughter76 her! And you profess77 to love her!"
"She is safe; as safe as in your own arms. They will protect her."
"Protect her! Protect her! They! Protestants, like yourself!"
"Yes, Protestants, like myself. And, as they believe, nay, as they know, perhaps as you yourself know, Protestants like--Urbaine Ducaire!"
Through the thick moted sunbeams that swept from the ?illet across the dusty room, passing athwart of Baville's face, Martin saw a terrible change come into that face. Saw the rich olive turn to an ashen78 hue67, almost a livid hue; saw the deep, soft eyes harden and become dull.
"They know," he whispered, "they know that! That Urbaine is--a--Protestant? How--can--they--know--it?"
"One of their seers, a woman, divined it, proclaimed her no papist. And Cavalier has discovered those who knew her father, Urbain Ducaire."
"My God!"
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收听单词发音
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1
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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3
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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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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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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7
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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reverencing
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| v.尊敬，崇敬( reverence的现在分词 )；敬礼 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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11
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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12
invader
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| n.侵略者，侵犯者，入侵者 | |
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13
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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15
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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16
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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20
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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22
pealing
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的现在分词 ) | |
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psalm
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| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
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24
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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26
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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27
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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29
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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30
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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32
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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33
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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militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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timorous
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| adj.胆怯的，胆小的 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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38
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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assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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hearths
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| 壁炉前的地板，炉床，壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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43
grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
grimacing
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的现在分词 ) | |
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45
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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46
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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48
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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49
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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50
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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51
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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52
citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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53
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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54
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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55
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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56
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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57
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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58
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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59
adder
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| n.蝰蛇；小毒蛇 | |
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60
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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61
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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62
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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63
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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64
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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65
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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66
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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67
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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68
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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69
shambles
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| n.混乱之处；废墟 | |
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70
fend
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| v.照料（自己），（自己）谋生，挡开，避开 | |
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71
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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72
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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73
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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74
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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75
recoiling
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| v.畏缩( recoil的现在分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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76
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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77
profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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78
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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