One morning, as the little steamboat which runs between the Island of Titicaca and the mainland, was plowing2 its way through the waters of the lake, it was hailed by a tall Quichua Indian, standing3 upright in his pirogue. In the bottom of the frail4 craft lay a white man, and the captain, seeing the prostrate5 figure, hove to for a moment to pick it up. Thus did Dick Montgomery return to civilization.
Among the passengers of the Yavari was a good-hearted alpaca merchant of Punho who took pity on the fever-stricken stranger and had him removed to his own home, where the whole household devoted6 itself to nursing the young man back to life. The Indian who brought him to the steamer explained that he had found the stranger, probably some tourist, unconscious among the ruins of the sacred island. He had therefore dosed him with pink water for the fever, and had brought him back to people of his own race. The Indian refused all reward, and the captain was the more surprised at this when, on searching Dick, he found a considerable sum of money in his pockets. For a Quichua not to strip a helpless man was indeed remarkable7.
When Dick had sufficiently8 recovered to understand what was being said, he immediately recognized the Indian descriRed to him as Huas-car. In his quality as high-priest, Huascar had probably returned to the temple late at night, and had there found Dick, surrounded by gaping9 tombs, and the corpses10 of Orellana and the three Guardians12 of the Temple. Coldly calculating in his hatred13, the Indian had decided14 to inflict15 the worst possible torture on Dick, leaving him to live after the death of Maria-Teresa.
That torture would not last long, the young man decided. The idea that he might have saved Maria-Teresa had he not lost his head, and that her death lay at his door, tormented16 him without ceasing. He realized that he would never be able to free himself of this obsession17 and that it would finally drive him mad. Better to end it all at once.
Only he did not wish to die among these awful mountains, mute witnesses of the horrors that had cost him his self-respect and happiness. The Maria-Teresa who was constantly before his mind’s eye was not the terrible mummy-like figure he had last seen, but the dainty silhouette18 in the homely19 surroundings of the office at Callao, among the big green registers, where they had met again after so long an absence and where they had exchanged words of love. He would go there to rejoin her.
Once this decision was taken, he grew rapidly better, and one day, after warmly thanking his host and showering presents on the whole family, he took the train to Mollendo, where he would join some ship for Callao. The voyage seemed an interminable one. At Arequipa, he visited the little adobe20 house by the rio de Chili21, and thought of the vain appeal they had made to that scoundrel Garcia. There also, for the first time since his illness, he thought of his traveling companions.
What had happened to Uncle Francis, Don Christobal and Natividad? Perhaps their bones were then bleaching22 in some inaccessible23 corner of the Corridors of Night. The Marquis, at all events, had not endured the torture of impotently witnessing the murder of his two children.
When Dick reached Mollendo there was a howling gale24 on, but he at once went down to the harbor. It was deserted25 save for two shadows, which rushed toward him with cries of joy. Yes, they were alive and breathing:—Uncle Francis and Natividad! Though white and sad-looking, they did not seem to have suffered a great deal. Dick clasped their hands, and they, seeing him so pale and thin, said no word.
Together they walked along for a few minutes, deep in thoughts. At last Mr. Montgomery turned to his nephew:
“What happened to Don Christobal? Do you know?”
“I thought he was with you.” Dick’s voice was toneless, detached from all things of this world.
It was only then that Natividad, without being asked, explained how he and Uncle Francis, after the frustrated26 attempt in the House of the Serpent, had been thrown into a dungeon27 in which they passed four days, and in which the illustrious scientist had at last become convinced of the reality of their adventure. At the end of those four days, finding the prison doors open and unguarded, they had fled.
Apparently28 all the Indians were bolting to the mountains from Cuzco, and the explanation for this they had found on reaching Sicuani. President Veintemilla, risking his all on one bold stroke, had surprised Garcia’s forces in the middle of the Interaymi fêtes, and the four squadrons of his escort which remained faithful had cut up and routed the thousands of Quichua riflemen. Barely five hundred in all, but of Spanish blood, they had repeated Pizarro’s exploit on those same plains of Xauxa, while the same ancient walls, with the impassability of immortal29 things, again stared down on the struggle of the races.
Garcia had escaped over the Bolivian frontier, and was on the point of blowing out his brains when he heard of a revolution in Paraguay which made life worth living again. So he crossed into Paraguay with his lawless “cabinet,” to the great satisfaction of the President of Bolivia.
Prom Sicuani, Uncle Francis and Natividad had gone straight to Mollendo, hoping to find the Marquis there, if the new fortunes of the republic had also opened the doors of his prison. As to Dick, they had not expected to see him until Lima, “after he had done everything to save Maria-Teresa.”
It was the first time that they had pronounced her name before him, and Dick saw a very real and very great sympathy in their faces.
“She is dead,” he said, gripping his uncle’s shoulder.
“Poor boy!”
They paced up and down again, silently, before the raging breakers of the Pacific, which had already kept two of them prisoners in Mollendo for the past ten days. Dick would not say another word, and his companions, ignorant of what had happened, could not even try to give him hope.
Eight more days passed by, and the elements still held them prisoners at Mollendo. His uncle and Natividad watched Dick closely, but his outward calm finally dispelled30 their fears, and once aboard a ship for Callao, they even questioned him. He told them what he had seen in the Temple of Death, while they listened in horror to the simply-worded narrative31, made in a singularly quiet voice. Afterwards, Uncle Francis locked himself in his cabin and sat for a long time with his head between his hands, staring at an unopened note-book.
Dick, leaning over the ship’s side, was now gazing idly at the rapidly approaching coast on which he had landed with so much hope and joy. The Peru of Pizarro and the Incas, the fabulous32 land of gold and legends, the Eldorado of his young ambition and of his love! Dead were his love and his ambition. There lived only the legends, at which they had laughed, which had killed all their dreams and which was to kill him after sending Maria-Teresa to a living tomb! And they had laughed, laughed at the warning of those two stately old ladies, Velasquez canvases brought to life and striving to retain all their pictorial33 dignity!
As on that first day, he was the first man off the liner, dropping over the side into the swaying craft of a noisy boatman. This time, though, he did not need to ask where the Galle de Lima lay, and his eyes hardly left the part of the city to which he had hastened so full of hope, where Maria-Teresa had waited for him.
He did not hurry on reaching land. Walking slowly he entered the network of tortuous34 streets, passed through the labyrinth35 of alleys36, and finally reached the point whence he could see the verandah.... There he had come to greet her every night, there he had come one night to find her gone. Never again would he see that dear face, that dainty figure bent37 over the big green books, while the slim fingers toyed with a golden pencil attached to her supple38 waist with a long gold chain.
Suddenly Dick stopped, staggered, and put his hand to his side with a choking intake39 of breath.... It hurt, that hallucinating apparition40 on the verandah.... Or perhaps it is true that the shades of the dear departed come back to people the spots they loved best, that they have the power of showing themselves to those they loved.... For Maria-Teresa is there, leaning out as she used to, turning her sweet face as she used to.... How pale she is, how diaphanous41; her well-remembered gestures are no more than the ghosts of those gestures!...
He hardly dared breathe, fearing that the vision would vanish at the sound of his voice-... He advanced cautiously, stealthily, like a child stalking a butterfly.
“Dick!”
“Maria-Teresa!”
They are in each other’s arms. The cry which has come from those pale lips is a living one. They clung to each other, trembling, laughing, crying, and would have fallen in their weakness had not other shadows come to their aid.
Aunt Agnes and her duenna, Irene, held up Maria-Teresa, while Don Christobal, running out into the street, caught the young engineer under the arm, and led him slowly in.
Little Christobal, dancing at the door of the office, shouted with glee and clapped his hands together.
“I told you so, Maria-Teresa! I told you he wasn’t dead!... Now you’ll get better, Maria-Teresa!”
Maria-Teresa, in Dick’s arms again, was sobbing42.
“I knew you would come back here if you were still alive.... But is it really you, Dick?... Really you?”
“Maria-Teresa has been awfully43 ill,” explained the child, while the two old ladies cried. “But we cured her by telling her you were not dead. Of course I knew Huascar had saved you too.... Huascar saved us all, you know.... He took us away from all those nasty Indians.... And father said that we should all be dead but for him. Didn’t you, Father?... But now you mustn’t die any more, must you?”
“I was there, Maria-Teresa. I saw them put you into the tomb.”
“You were there, then! I knew it. I felt your eyes on mine, and that’s why I looked. I knew you were watching... somewhere.... When they took Christobal away from me I thought I should die... Huascar had told me he would be quite safe, but I couldn’t believe it.... Then that horrible cry!... I didn’t open my eyes again until I felt yours on them.... I knew you were there, dear.”
The two old ladies and the Marquis were making desperate signs to him, and Dick tried to stop her, but she went on:—
“I knew you wouldn’t leave me there to die, and so I waited, waited.... It was terribly long.... And then I began to choke.... I couldn’t move; only sit there and wait... What does it matter, Father, now that we’re all alive and happy?... Then I heard somebody thundering blows on the wall, and thought you were coming.... Only just in time, for I was choking.... There was such funny music in my ears.... Then I heard the stone torn away, and felt myself being lifted out.... When I opened my eyes, Dick, it was not you, but Huas-car.... He carried me into a dark little room, with a torch burning in it, and untied44 my arms and head.... Then he slipped on that horrible bat-skin dress again.... I couldn’t believe I was saved, though he told me so....”
She paused for a moment, choking, and continued:
“He left me where I was, and started working. First he lifted a mummy into my place. ‘There is no sacrilege,’ he said, ‘for the god now has the number of wives he needs.’... He had evidently prepared everything, and dug an opening as deep into the back of my tomb as he dared.... I was horribly afraid, because he said he had done it all for love of me... and I screamed when he tried to pick me up.... I was ever so much more afraid than in the tomb.... He laughed, and said I was lucky to have had him for a friend.... You, he said, had nearly spoiled his plans, and he had had to trap you all to save me.
“When I told him that he had only saved me for a worse fate, he laughed again.... Then he picked me up, for I was too weak to move, and carried me miles and miles through the darkness.... When he stopped, it was before a low door.... He pushed it open, and there were father and Christobal.... While they were kissing me, Huascar went to the door.... He looked awful.... Then he said to father: ‘Se?or, I promised to return your son and daughter to you. Here they both are. You will find nothing to prevent your departure. An Inca, se?or, never breaks his word.’... We have not seen him since.... I had to tell you, Dick, so that if ever you meet that man again, you will know what we owe him.”
At her last words, the young engineer shivered and pressed her hand.
“He need not be afraid. I remember what I owe him. He saved both of you and us, dear, and I promised him that if he saved you....”
“I know, I know! Father has told me....”
“He considered: your promise an insult,” interrupted the Marquis. “After my capture, they took me to the Island, and he came to see me in my dungeon. I thought my last hour had come, and did not spare him with my tongue. He let me finish, and then explained what he had done, his whole plan of action. When Maria-Teresa and Christobal were brought to me, the two Indians guarding my door, who were his absolute slaves, would take us both to the mainland in a pirogue. He told me, too, of your interview at Arequipa, and gave me a message for you. Here it is:
“‘Tell that young man, whom I do not know, that the se?orita will be as free as her heart, which is mine neither to take, to buy nor to sell. He must know that. I have done him no harm, and he has insulted me. I forgive him.’
“Then, as he was about to go, he turned again:—
“Do not thank me, se?or. Thank the one who is now in heaven, and who was the se?ora de la Torre. I ask for only one thing in exchange for my services, and that is for you never to speak of them. The memory of the High Priest of the Incas must not be dishonored.’
“That is Huascar’s message, Dick. There is no reason why you should not marry Maria-Teresa.”
At this moment Uncle Francis and Natividad dashed into the room. On their way from the harbor, they had learned of the Marquis’ miraculous45 return to Lima with his two children, and hearing that the whole family had come to Callao that day—Maria-Teresa to see her dear old office for the last time!—they had come there running. Aunt Agnes and Irene, anxious for their charge’s health, would have taken her away, but the young girl insisted that this storm of still shaky laughter and interjections was the best medicine for her malady46.
“It’s all a bad dream,” she said. “That is how we must take it.”
Don Christobal took up the cue.
“Exactly. I have had a long talk with Veintemilla, and that is the way he asks us to treat it, for patriotic47 reasons. In exchange, he has promised to help me wind up the business here and sell our concessions48. Dick and Maria-Teresa will be married in England, if nobody objects.”
Natividad alone had objections to make, and waved his arms disconsolately49 above his head.
“The same old story!” he groaned50. “If I had my way, we should soon get to the bottom of those Corridor of Night mysteries.... But no!... the same old game of shut your eyes and see nothing.... Here’s Veintemilla now, instead of settling with those Indians once and for all, asking us to call it a bad dream!... Bad dream indeed!”
“My dear Natividad,” said the Marquis. “I fear you are a troublous spirit. By the way, I have sad news for you. You are no longer inspector51 superior of Callao.”
Natividad fell into a chair, his mouth wide open, struggling for words to qualify the airy attitude of this man, for whom he had risked everything. He was so comical that they all burst into laughter, while the little old gentleman, purple with fury, strode toward the door.
“Not so quick, Natividad, not so quick!” called the Marquis after him. “There is also some good news for you. You have been appointed inspector superior at Lima.”
Again Natividad fell into a chair, but beaming, stuttering with joy and gratitude52.
“It’s a dream.... the dream of my life.... I might have been dead though!”
“The appointment, which I saw President Veintemilla sign, is, of course, only valid53 in the event of your being living,” smiled the Marquis. “As those Indians of yours haven’t eaten you alive, you can keep an eye on them again.”
“Hush! We must not talk about it,” replied Natividad, the magistrate’s toga weighing on his shoulders again.
“And neither shall we,” whispered Dick, bending over Maria-Teresa’s pale face.
She nodded slowly. “Do you know, Dick, looking round me and seeing the same old chairs and books again, the same dear faces, and when I think of the Temple of Death, it really does only seem like an ugly dream.”
Natividad, having said good-by to all, was talking to the Marquis by the door. He opened it and fell back with a muffled54 exclamation55.
A corpse11, until then held upright by the closed door, fell into the room. Maria-Teresa, first to realize what it was, fell on her knees beside the body.
It was Huascar, whom she had driven out of that door and who had dragged himself there to die, a dagger56 in his heart.
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收听单词发音
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1
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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2
plowing
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| v.耕( plow的现在分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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3
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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4
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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5
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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6
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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8
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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9
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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10
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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11
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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12
guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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13
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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14
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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15
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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16
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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obsession
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| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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18
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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19
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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20
adobe
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| n.泥砖，土坯，美国Adobe公司 | |
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21
chili
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| n.辣椒 | |
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22
bleaching
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| 漂白法，漂白 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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24
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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25
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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26
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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27
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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28
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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29
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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30
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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32
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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pictorial
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| adj.绘画的；图片的；n．画报 | |
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34
tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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36
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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37
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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38
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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39
intake
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| n.吸入，纳入；进气口，入口 | |
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40
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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41
diaphanous
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| adj.(布)精致的，半透明的 | |
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42
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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43
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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44
untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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45
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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46
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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47
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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48
concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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49
disconsolately
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| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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50
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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51
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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52
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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53
valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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54
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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55
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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56
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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