It was a fantastic figure that faced me, sitting on a billet of wood not far from the door. Withered1 herbs were in the high, peaked cap. The black-and-yellow mantle2 was drawn3 forward to cover the folded arms. The steely eyes were at my inmost thought.
There is no doubt I was still a sick man. I was unspeakably disappointed. Looking back upon it now, I verily believe that I expected to see Yvonne, as in a fairy tale.
“Why did you come in,” I asked peevishly4, twisting under those eyes, “without proclaiming—
“Woe5, woe to Acadie the Fair, for the hour of her desolation cometh?”
“It has come,” said he quietly.
143I sat up as if a spring had moved me. My eyes alone questioned.
“Beauséjour has fallen. France is driven back on Louisbourg. The men of Acadie are in chains. The women await what fate they know not. Their homes await the flame.”
Here was no madman speaking.
“And—Yvonne?” I whispered.
“They all are safe, under shelter of the governor—and of Anderson,” he added icily.
I had no more words for a moment. Then I asked—“And the Black Abbé?”
His sane6 calm disappeared. His face worked; his hands came out from under his cloak, darting7 like serpents; his eyes veered8 like pale flame. As suddenly he was calm again.
“He is at Louisbourg,” said he, “at Isle9 St. Jean—here—there—anywhere; free, busy, still heaping and heating the fires which shall burn his soul alive.”
I like a man who is in earnest; but I could think of nothing appropriate to say. After a pause I changed the subject.
“I am thirsty,” said I, “and hungry too, I think, though I have eaten all the barley10 bread. And I’m sorry, but I’ve broken the jar.”
From a niche11 in the wall he at once brought me more barley cake, with butter, and fresh milk, and some dried beef. The wholesome12, homely13 taste 144of them comes back to me now. Having eaten, I felt that nothing could be quite so good as sleep; and with grateful mutterings, half spoken, I slept.
When I woke it was the cold light of early morning that came in at the cave-mouth; and I was alone. I felt so much better that I got up at once; but ere I could reach the door a dizziness came over me, and I staggered back to my place, feeling that my hour was not yet. As I lay fretting14 my heart with a thousand hot conjectures15, my host came in. He looked at me, but said not a word; nor could I get his tongue loosened all through our light breakfast. At last, to my obstinate16 repetition of the inquiry17: “When shall I be strong enough to go down into Grand Pré?” he suddenly awoke and answered:
“A little way to-morrow, perhaps; and the next day, further; and within the week, if you are fortunate, you should be strong enough for anything. You will need to be, if you are going down into Grand Pré!” he added grimly.
Upon this direct telling I think I became in all ways my sane self—weak, indeed, but no longer whimsical. I felt that Gr?l’s promise was much better than I could have hoped. I knew there would be need of all my strength. I was a man again, no more a sick child. And I would wait.
Gr?l busied himself a few minutes about the 145cave, in a practical, every-day fashion that consorted18 most oddly with his guise19 and fame. I could not but think of a mad king playing scullion. But there was none of the changing light of madness in his eyes.
Soon he seated himself at the cave-mouth, and said, pointing to a roughly shaped ledge20 with a wolfskin upon it:
“Come hither, now, and take this good air. It will medicine your thin veins21.”
Obeying gladly, I was soon stretched on the wolfskin at the very brink22, as it seemed, of the open world. But it was cold. Perceiving this, he arose without a word, fetched another skin, and tucked it about me. His tenderness of touch was like a woman’s.
“How can I thank you?” I began. “It is to you, I now perceive, that I owe my life. How much besides I know not!”
He waved my thanks aside something impatiently.
“Yes, I saved you,” said he. “It suited me to do so. I foresaw you would some day repay me. And I like you, boy. I trust you; though in some ways you are a vain fool.”
I laughed. I had such confidence in him I began to think he would bring all my desires to pass.
“And I have been wont23 to imagine you a madman,” 146said I. “But I seem to have been mistaken.”
“Were I mad utterly24 as I seem,” said he, in a voice which thrilled me to the bone, “it would not be strange. I am mad but on one subject; and on that I believe that God will adjudge me sanest25.”
He was silent for a long time, that white fire playing in his eyes; and I dared not break upon his reverie. At last I ventured, for my tongue ached with questions unasked:
“How did you find me when I fell over the cliff?” I queried26. “And where was the Englishman?”
My mouth once opened, two questions instead of one jumped out.
“It was noon,” said Gr?l, “and I found your Englishman sitting by you waiting for the sky to fall. Had the Micmacs come instead of me, your two scalps would have risen nimbly together. He is a good man and brave; but he lacks wits. A woman could trust him to do anything but keep her from yawning!”
I grinned with the merest silly delight—a mean delight. But Gr?l went on:
“He is worth a dozen cleverer men; but he fatigued27 me. I sent him away. I told him just how to go to reach the Piziquid settlement, whom to ask for, and what help to bring for his sick comrade. Then, knowing what was about to befall, and having 147in mind a service which you will do me at a later day, and divining that you would rather be sick in a madman’s cave than in an English jail, I brought you here. I was reputed a wizard in the old days in France, for having brought men back from the very gape28 of the grave; and I knew you would be long sick.”
I looked at him, and I think my grateful love needed no words.
“And what became of the Englishman?” I asked presently.
“He appeared at last in Grand Pré,” answered Gr?l, “and told the truth of you, and dwelt awhile within the shadow of the chapel29, to be near the guests of Father Fafard; and he got a strong guard placed in the village close at hand, that those who loved the English and feared the abbé might sleep in peace. I hear he presses for the redemption of Mademoiselle’s pledge; but she, to the much vexation of Monsieur and Madame, is something dilatory30 in her obedience31. Of course she will obey in the end. Even Father Fafard exhorts32 her to that, for obedience sums all virtues33 in a maid. But she has an absurd idea that the Englishman should present alive to her the man who saved his life, before claiming reward at hands of hers. I might have enabled him to do this; but you were not in a mind to be consulted.”
“You are the wisest man I ever knew,” said I, 148conscious of an absurd inclination34 to fling myself at his feet and do penance35 for past supercilious36 underratings.
He seemed to accept the tribute as not undue37, and again took up his monologue38.
“Had you died, as seemed for some weeks likely for all my skill, I should have smoothed the way for the stupid Englishman; but finding that you would live, I thought to bind39 you to me by keeping your way open. In a few days you will be well, and must tread your own path, to triumph or disaster as your own star shall decree. In either case, I know you will stand by me when my need comes!”
“You know the merest truth,” said I.
点击收听单词发音
1 withered | |
adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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2 mantle | |
n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;v.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
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3 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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4 peevishly | |
adv.暴躁地 | |
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5 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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6 sane | |
adj.心智健全的,神志清醒的,明智的,稳健的 | |
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7 darting | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的现在分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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8 veered | |
v.(尤指交通工具)改变方向或路线( veer的过去式和过去分词 );(指谈话内容、人的行为或观点)突然改变;(指风) (在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向)逐渐转向;风向顺时针转 | |
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9 isle | |
n.小岛,岛 | |
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10 barley | |
n.大麦,大麦粒 | |
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11 niche | |
n.壁龛;合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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12 wholesome | |
adj.适合;卫生的;有益健康的;显示身心健康的 | |
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13 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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14 fretting | |
n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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15 conjectures | |
推测,猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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16 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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17 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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18 consorted | |
v.结伴( consort的过去式和过去分词 );交往;相称;调和 | |
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19 guise | |
n.外表,伪装的姿态 | |
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20 ledge | |
n.壁架,架状突出物;岩架,岩礁 | |
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21 veins | |
n.纹理;矿脉( vein的名词复数 );静脉;叶脉;纹理 | |
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22 brink | |
n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘,边沿 | |
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23 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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24 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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25 sanest | |
adj.心智健全的( sane的最高级 );神志正常的;明智的;稳健的 | |
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26 queried | |
v.质疑,对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 );询问 | |
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27 fatigued | |
adj. 疲乏的 | |
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28 gape | |
v.张口,打呵欠,目瞪口呆地凝视 | |
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29 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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30 dilatory | |
adj.迟缓的,不慌不忙的 | |
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31 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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32 exhorts | |
n.劝勉者,告诫者,提倡者( exhort的名词复数 )v.劝告,劝说( exhort的第三人称单数 ) | |
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33 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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34 inclination | |
n.倾斜;点头;弯腰;斜坡;倾度;倾向;爱好 | |
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35 penance | |
n.(赎罪的)惩罪 | |
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36 supercilious | |
adj.目中无人的,高傲的;adv.高傲地;n.高傲 | |
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37 undue | |
adj.过分的;不适当的;未到期的 | |
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38 monologue | |
n.长篇大论,(戏剧等中的)独白 | |
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39 bind | |
vt.捆,包扎;装订;约束;使凝固;vi.变硬 | |
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