It was a charming apartment with hangings of pale blue satin that made a perfect foil to the pearl-fair beauty of Bonnibel.
The chairs and sofas were upholstered in the same rich material; the carpet was white velvet2, sprinkled over with blue forget-me-nots; the costly3 white lace curtains were draped over blue satin, and the bright fire burning in the silver grate shone upon expensive gilding4 and delicate bric-a-brac scattered5 profusely6 about the room.
A marble Flora7, half buried in flowers, stood in a niche8, and vases of delicate white lilies were on the marble mantel.
The young mistress of all this beauty and wealth so tastefully combined, as she sat near the fire with an open book, looked like a gem9 set in an appropriate shrine10, so fair, and pure, and dainty, was her person and her apparel.
She looked up with a slight smile as her liege lord's fretful ejaculation fell upon her ears.
"What person has been so unfortunate as to incur11 your displeasure?" she inquired.
[Pg 87]
"The artist of whom I purchased that splendid picture for the drawing-room—the last one, you know."
"Yes," she said, languidly; "and what has he done now?"
"I wanted him to paint your portrait, you know."
"Excuse me, I did not know," she returned.
"Oh no; I believe you did not. I think I failed to mention the matter to you. Well, he is the greatest artist in Rome—people are raving12 over his pictures. They say he has the most brilliant genius of his time."
"Is that why you are angry with him?" she asked, with a slight smile.
"No; oh, no. But I wrote to him and asked him to paint your portrait. I even offered to take you to Rome if he would not come to Paris."
"Well?"
"He had the impertinence to send me a cool refusal," said the colonel, irately13.
"He did—and why?" asked Bonnibel, just a little piqued14 at the unknown artist.
"He did not like to paint portraits, he said—he preferred the ideal world of art. Did you ever hear of such a cool excuse?"
"We have no right to feel angry with him. He is, of course, the master of his own actions, and has undoubted right to his preferences," said Bonnibel, calmly.
But though she spoke15 so quietly, her womanly vanity was piqued by the unknown artist's cold refusal "to hand her sweetness down to fame."
"Who is he? What is his name?" she asked.
The colonel considered a moment.
"I have a wonderful faculty16 for forgetting names," he said. "Favart has told me his name several times—let me see—I think—yes, I am sure—it is Deane!"
"I should like to see him," she said, "I have always taken a great deal of interest in artists."
"You will be very apt to see him," said the colonel; "he is in Paris now—taking a holiday, Favart says. People are making quite a fuss over him and his friend—the artist from whom I bought the other fine picture, you know. You will be sure to meet them in society."
"Do you think so?" she asked, twirling the leaves of her book nervously17. The mention of artists and pictures always agitated18 her strangely. She could not forget the young artist who had gone to Rome to earn fame and fortune and died so soon. Her cheek paled with emotion, and her eyes darkened with sadness under their drooping19 lashes20 of golden-brown.
"Yes, there is not a doubt of it," he said. "In fact, I suppose we shall have to invite them, too, though I do not relish21 it after the fellow's incivility. But it is the privilege of greatness to be crusty, I believe. Anyway, the fashionables are all feting and lionizing him, so we cannot well slight him. I shall have Monsieur Favart bring him and his friend to our ball next week. What do you say, my dear?"
[Pg 88]
"Send him a card by all means," she answered, "I am quite curious to see him."
"Perhaps he may repent22 his refusal when he sees how beautiful you are, my darling," said the colonel, with a fond, proud glance into her face. "His ideal world of art, as he calls it, cannot contain anything more lovely than yourself."
"You flatter me, Colonel Carlyle," she said lightly, but in her heart she knew that he had spoken truly. She had been afloat on the whirling tide of fashionable life now for several months, and praises and adulation had followed her everywhere. The gay Parisians went mad over her pure blonde loveliness. They said she was the most beautiful and refined woman in Paris, as well as the most cold and pure. She had begun to take a certain pleasure in the gaieties of the world and in the homage23 that followed her wherever she moved. These were the empty husks on which she had to feed her heart's hunger, and she was trying to find them sweet.
Colonel Carlyle's baleful jealousy24 had lain dormant25 or concealed26 even since he had taken his wife from school.
True, his arch-enemy, Felise Herbert, was in Paris, but for some reason of her own she had not as yet laid any serious pitfall27 for his unwary feet.
Perhaps she was only playing with him as the cat does with the little mouse before she ruthlessly murders it; perhaps Bonnibel's icy-cold manner and studied reserve to all made it harder to excite the old soldier's ever ready suspicion.
Be that as it may, life flowed on calmly if not happily to the colonel and his young wife.
They met Mrs. Arnold and her daughter frequently in their fashionable rounds, they invited them to their house, and received invitations in return, but though the colonel was cordial, his wife was cold and proud to the two women who had been so cruel to her and driven her into this unhappy marriage with a man old enough to be her grandfather. She could not forgive them for that cruel deed.
"I bide28 my time," Felise said to her mother one day when they were discussing the Carlyles. "I am giving her a little taste of the world's pleasures. I want her to fall in love with this life she is leading here. She will be tempted29 by its enticements and forget her coldness and prudishness. Then I shall strike."
"She is very circumspect," said Mrs. Arnold. "They say she is a model of virtue30 and beautiful wifely obedience31."
"The higher she soars now the lower her fall shall be!" exclaimed the relentless32 girl, with her low, reckless laugh, "mother, I shall not fail of my revenge!"
Ah! Felise Herbert! The coils of fate are tightening33 around you like a deadly serpent while you exult34 in your wickedness.
点击收听单词发音
1 impudence | |
n.厚颜无耻;冒失;无礼 | |
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2 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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3 costly | |
adj.昂贵的,价值高的,豪华的 | |
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4 gilding | |
n.贴金箔,镀金 | |
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5 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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6 profusely | |
ad.abundantly | |
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7 flora | |
n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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8 niche | |
n.壁龛;合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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9 gem | |
n.宝石,珠宝;受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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10 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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11 incur | |
vt.招致,蒙受,遭遇 | |
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12 raving | |
adj.说胡话的;疯狂的,怒吼的;非常漂亮的;令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话;疯话adv.胡言乱语地;疯狂地 | |
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13 irately | |
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14 piqued | |
v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 );激起(好奇心) | |
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15 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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16 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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17 nervously | |
adv.神情激动地,不安地 | |
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18 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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19 drooping | |
adj. 下垂的,无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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20 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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21 relish | |
n.滋味,享受,爱好,调味品;vt.加调味料,享受,品味;vi.有滋味 | |
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22 repent | |
v.悔悟,悔改,忏悔,后悔 | |
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23 homage | |
n.尊敬,敬意,崇敬 | |
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24 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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25 dormant | |
adj.暂停活动的;休眠的;潜伏的 | |
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26 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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27 pitfall | |
n.隐患,易犯的错误;陷阱,圈套 | |
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28 bide | |
v.忍耐;等候;住 | |
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29 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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30 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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31 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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32 relentless | |
adj.残酷的,不留情的,无怜悯心的 | |
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33 tightening | |
上紧,固定,紧密 | |
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34 exult | |
v.狂喜,欢腾;欢欣鼓舞 | |
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