So, for awhile, “Home again to Acadie the Fair” was all that I could say.
It was surely enough. I had come over from Piziquid afoot, by the upper trail, and now, having crossed the Gaspereau where it narrows just above tide-water, I had come out upon the spacious8 brow of the hill that overlooks Grand Pré village.
Not all my wanderings had shown me another scene so wonderful as that wide prospect9. The vale of the Five Rivers lay spread out before me, with Grand Pré, the quiet metropolis10 of the Acadian people, nestling in her apple-bloom at my feet. There was the one long street, thick-set with its wide-eaved gables, and there its narrow subsidiary lane descending11 from the slopes upon my left. Near the angle rose the spire13 of the village church, glittering like gold in the clear flood of the sunset. And everywhere the dear apple-blossoms. For it was spring in Acadie when I came home.
3Beyond the village and its one black wharf14 my eyes ranged the green, wind-ruffled marshes15, safe behind the sodded circumvallations of their dykes16. Past the dykes, on either side of “the island’s” wooded rampart, stretched the glowing miles of the flats; for the tides of Minas were at ebb17. How red in the sunset, molten copper18 threaded with fire, those naked reaches gleamed that night! Their color was like a blare of trumpets19 challenging the peace of the Five Rivers.
Past the flats, smooth and dazzling to the eye at such a distance, lay the waters of Minas. Well I knew how their unsleeping eddies20 boiled and seethed21 about the grim base of Blomidon. Such tricks does memory serve one that even across that wide tranquillity22 I seemed to hear the depredating clamour of those tides upon the shingle23.
Though it was now two years since I had seen the gables and apple-trees of Grand Pré, I was in no haste to descend12 into the village. There came a sudden sinking at my heart, as my heart inquired, with unseasonable pertinence24, by what right I continued to call Grand Pré “home”? The thought was new to me; and that I might fairly consider it I seated myself upon the broad stump25 of a birch-tree, felled the preceding winter.
By far the smaller portion of my life had been spent in the Acadian village—only my early boyhood, before the years of schooling26 at Quebec; 4and afterwards the fleeting28 sweetness of some too brief visits, that lay in my memory like pools of enchanted29 leisure in a desert of emulous contentions30. My father, tenderest and bravest of all men that I have known, rested in an unmarked grave beside the northern wash of the Peribonca. My uncle, Jean de Mer, Sieur de Briart, was on the Ohio, fighting the endless battle of France in the western wildernesses31. His one son, my one cousin, the taciturn but true-hearted Marc, was with his father, spending himself in the same quarrel. I thought with a longing32 tenderness of these two—the father full of high faith in the triumph of New France, the son fighting obstinately33 in what he held a lost cause, caring mainly that his father still had faith in it. I wished mightily34 that their brave hands could clasp mine in welcome back to Grand Pré. I thought of their two fair New England wives, left behind at Quebec to shame by their gay innocence35 the corruption36 of Bigot’s court. Kindred I had none in Grand Pré, unless one green grave in the churchyard could be called my kin—the grave wherein my mother’s girlish form and laughing eyes had been laid to sleep while I was yet a child.
Yes, I had no kinsfolk to greet me back to Grand Pré; no roof of mine that I should call it home. But friends, loyal friends, would welcome me, I knew. There was Father Fafard, the firm 5and gentle old priest, to whom, of course, I should go just as if I were of his flesh and blood. Then there were the De Lamouries—
Yes, to be sure, the De Lamouries. And here I took myself by the chin and laughed. I know that, for all my verses, I am in the main a soldier, yet I am so far a poet as to suffer myself to befool myself at times, and get a passing satisfaction out of it. But I always face the fact before I express it in act. I acknowledged to myself that I had been thinking of the De Lamouries’ pleasant farmhouse37, and of somewhat that it contained, when I sang “Home again to Acadie the Fair.”
I remembered with a pleasant warmth the tall, bent38 figure, fierce eyes, and courtly air of Giles de Lamourie, the broken gentleman, who through much misfortune and some fault had fallen from a high place at Versailles and been fain to hide himself on an Acadian farm. I thought also of Madame, his wife, a wizened39 little woman with nothing left, said the villagers, to remind one of the loveliness which had once dazzled Louis himself. To me she seemed an amazingly interesting woman, whose former beauty could still be guessed from its ruins.
Both of these good people I remembered with a depth of concern far beyond the deserts of such casual friendlinesses as they had shown me. As I looked down toward their spacious apple-orchard40, 6on the furthest outskirts41 of the village, it was borne in upon me that they had one claim to distinction beyond all others.
They had achieved Yvonne.
Many a time had I wondered how my cousin Marc could have had eyes for his ruddy-haired Puritan lily when there was Yvonne de Lamourie in the world. On my last two visits to Grand Pré I had seen her; not many times, indeed, nor much alone; and never word of love had passed between us. In truth, I had not known that I loved her in those days. I had taken a wondering delight in her beauty and her wit, but of the pretty trifles of compliment and the careless gallantries that so often simulate love I had offered her none at all. This surprised me the more afterward27, as women had ever found me somewhat lavish42 in such light coin. I think I was withheld43 by the great love unrealized in my heart, which found expression then only in such white reverence44 as the devotee proffers45 to his saint. I think, too, I was restrained by the consciousness of a certain girl at Trois Pistoles on the St. Lawrence, who, if I might believe my vanity, loved me, and to whom, if I might believe my conscience, I had given some sort of claim upon my honor. I cared naught46 for the girl. I had never intended anything but a light and passing affair; but somehow it had not seemed to me light when Yvonne de 7Lamourie’s eyes were upon me. A little afterward, revisiting Trois Pistoles on my way to the western lakes, I had found the maiden47 married to a prosperous trader of Quebec. In the leaping joy that seized my heart at the news I perceived how my fetters48 had galled49; and I knew then, though at first but dimly, that if anywhere in the world there awaited me such a love as I had dreamed of sleeping, but ever doubted waking,—the love that should be not a pastime, but a prayer, not an episode, but an eternity,—it awaited me in Grand Pré village.
In my heart these two years I had carried two clear visions of my mistress. Strange to tell, they were not bedimmed by the much handling which they had endured. They but seemed to grow the brighter and fresher from being continually pressed to the kisses of my soul.
In one of these I saw her as she stood a certain morning in the orchard, prying50 with insistent51 little finger-tips into the heart of a young apple-flower, while I watched and said nothing. I know not to this day whether she were thinking of the apple-flower or wondering at the dumbness of her cavalier; but she feigned52, at least, to concern herself with only the blossom’s heart. Her wide white lids downcast over her great eyes, her long lashes53 almost sweeping54 the rondure of her cheek, she looked a Madonna. The broad, low forehead; 8the finely chiselled55 nose, not too small for strength of purpose; the full, firm chin—all added to this sweet dignity, which was of a kind to compel a lover’s worship. There was enough breadth to the gracious curve below the ear to make me feel that this girl would be a strong man’s mate. But the mouth, a bow of tenderness, with a wilful56 dimple at either delectable57 corner always lurking58, spoke59 her all woman, too laughing and loving to spend her days in sainthood. Her hair—very thick and of a purply-bronze, near to black—lay in a careless fulness over her little ears. On her head, though in all else she affected60 the dress of the Grand Pré maids, she wore not the Acadian linen61 cap, but a fine shawl of black Spanish lace, which became her mightily. Her bodice was of linen homespun, coarse, but bleached62 to a creamy whiteness; and her skirt, of the same simple stuff, was short after the Acadian fashion, so that I could see her slim ankles, and feet of that exceeding smallness and daintiness which may somehow tread right heavily upon a man’s heart.
The other vision cherished in my memory was different from this, and even more enchanting63. It was a vision of one look cast upon me as I left the door of her father’s house. In the radiance of her great eyes, turned full upon me, all else became indistinct, her other features blurred64, as it 9were, with the sudden light of that look, which meant—I knew not what. Indeed, it was ever difficult to observe minutely the other beauties of her face as long as the eyes were turned upon one, so clear an illumination from her spirit shone within their lucid65 deeps. Hence it was, I suppose, that few could agree as to the colour of those eyes—the many calling them black, others declaring with confidence that they were brown, while some even, who must have angered her, averred66 them to be of a very cold dark grey. I, for my part, knew that they were of a greenish hazel of indescribable depth, with sometimes amber67 lights in them, and sometimes purple shadows very mysterious and unfathomable.
As I sat now looking down into the village I wondered if Yvonne would have a welcome for me. As I remembered, she had ever shown goodwill68 toward me, so far as consisted with maidenly69 reserve. She had seemed ever ready for tales of my adventure, and even for my verses. As I thought of it there dawned now upon my heart a glimmering70 hope that there had been in that last unforgotten look of hers more warmth of meaning than maid Yvonne had been willing to confess.
This thought went to my heart and I sprang up in a kind of sudden intoxication71, to go straightway down into the village. As I did so I caught the flutter of a white frock among the trees of the 10De Lamourie orchard. Thereupon my breath came with a quickness that was troublesome, and to quiet it I paused, looking out across the marshes and the tide toward Blomidon. Then for the first time I observed a great bank of cloud that had arisen behind the Cape72. It was black and menacing, ragged73 and fiery74 along its advancing crest75. Its shadow lay already upon the marshes and the tide. It crept smoothly76 upon the village. And at this moment, from the skirts of a maple grove on the summit of the hill behind me, came a great and bell-like voice, crying:
点击收听单词发音
1 belle | |
n.靓女 | |
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2 imprison | |
vt.监禁,关押,限制,束缚 | |
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3 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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4 volatile | |
adj.反复无常的,挥发性的,稍纵即逝的,脾气火爆的;n.挥发性物质 | |
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5 syllables | |
n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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6 rudiments | |
n.基础知识,入门 | |
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7 exacting | |
adj.苛求的,要求严格的 | |
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8 spacious | |
adj.广阔的,宽敞的 | |
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9 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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10 metropolis | |
n.首府;大城市 | |
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11 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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12 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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13 spire | |
n.(教堂)尖顶,尖塔,高点 | |
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14 wharf | |
n.码头,停泊处 | |
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15 marshes | |
n.沼泽,湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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16 dykes | |
abbr.diagonal wire cutters 斜线切割机n.堤( dyke的名词复数 );坝;堰;沟 | |
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17 ebb | |
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态 | |
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18 copper | |
n.铜;铜币;铜器;adj.铜(制)的;(紫)铜色的 | |
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19 trumpets | |
喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 ); 小号; 喇叭形物; (尤指)绽开的水仙花 | |
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20 eddies | |
(水、烟等的)漩涡,涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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21 seethed | |
(液体)沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 ); 激动,大怒; 强压怒火; 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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22 tranquillity | |
n. 平静, 安静 | |
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23 shingle | |
n.木瓦板;小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌);v.用木瓦板盖(屋顶);把(女子头发)剪短 | |
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24 pertinence | |
n.中肯 | |
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25 stump | |
n.残株,烟蒂,讲演台;v.砍断,蹒跚而走 | |
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26 schooling | |
n.教育;正规学校教育 | |
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27 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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28 fleeting | |
adj.短暂的,飞逝的 | |
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29 enchanted | |
adj. 被施魔法的,陶醉的,入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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30 contentions | |
n.竞争( contention的名词复数 );争夺;争论;论点 | |
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31 wildernesses | |
荒野( wilderness的名词复数 ); 沙漠; (政治家)在野; 不再当政(或掌权) | |
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32 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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33 obstinately | |
ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
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34 mightily | |
ad.强烈地;非常地 | |
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35 innocence | |
n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
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36 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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37 farmhouse | |
n.农场住宅(尤指主要住房) | |
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38 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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39 wizened | |
adj.凋谢的;枯槁的 | |
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40 orchard | |
n.果园,果园里的全部果树,(美俚)棒球场 | |
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41 outskirts | |
n.郊外,郊区 | |
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42 lavish | |
adj.无节制的;浪费的;vt.慷慨地给予,挥霍 | |
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43 withheld | |
withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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44 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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45 proffers | |
v.提供,贡献,提出( proffer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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46 naught | |
n.无,零 [=nought] | |
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47 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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48 fetters | |
n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 );束缚v.给…上脚镣,束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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49 galled | |
v.使…擦痛( gall的过去式和过去分词 );擦伤;烦扰;侮辱 | |
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50 prying | |
adj.爱打听的v.打听,刺探(他人的私事)( pry的现在分词 );撬开 | |
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51 insistent | |
adj.迫切的,坚持的 | |
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52 feigned | |
a.假装的,不真诚的 | |
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53 lashes | |
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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54 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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55 chiselled | |
adj.凿过的,凿光的; (文章等)精心雕琢的v.凿,雕,镌( chisel的过去式 ) | |
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56 wilful | |
adj.任性的,故意的 | |
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57 delectable | |
adj.使人愉快的;美味的 | |
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58 lurking | |
潜在 | |
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59 spoke | |
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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60 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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61 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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62 bleached | |
漂白的,晒白的,颜色变浅的 | |
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63 enchanting | |
a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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64 blurred | |
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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65 lucid | |
adj.明白易懂的,清晰的,头脑清楚的 | |
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66 averred | |
v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 );证实;证明…属实;作为事实提出 | |
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67 amber | |
n.琥珀;琥珀色;adj.琥珀制的 | |
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68 goodwill | |
n.善意,亲善,信誉,声誉 | |
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69 maidenly | |
adj. 像处女的, 谨慎的, 稳静的 | |
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70 glimmering | |
n.微光,隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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71 intoxication | |
n.wild excitement;drunkenness;poisoning | |
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72 cape | |
n.海角,岬;披肩,短披风 | |
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73 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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74 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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75 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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76 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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