“St. Hilary!” I cried with affected1 gaiety, “what brings you here at two o’clock in the morning?”
“Ah, what!” he grumbled2. “Have you no imagination? But wait till we are in my gondola3. You are going to your rooms, I suppose?”
We were scarcely seated when he turned eagerly toward me. His yellow face was haggard for want of sleep and lined like an old carved ivory, but in the pale light of the lamps of the landing I saw his eyes gleam.
“You are in good enough spirits to have good news. Come, no one can hear us now. Tell me of your little trip to Russia.”
I recounted to him the story of my fruitless journey. He listened to me in silence. When I had finished, he drew aside the curtains of the gondola and looked out.
“I might have known that you would have just such ill luck,” he said bitterly, and did not again speak until we had reached the Giudecca.
129We entered the Grand Canal. One thinks of the Grand Canal as a mise en scène for endless processions of tourists. Your true flaneur shuns4 it. He keeps, as far as possible, to the cool blue shadows of the little canals.
But to-night this majestic5 waterway laid a fresh spell on me. It awed6 me. This silent stream, black as death, was full of mystery. A menace lurked7 in the deep shadows of the great palaces, pallid8 and ghostlike in the darkness. The steel prow9 of our gondola, curving upward proudly, dipped and glided10 through the inky waters. Is there in the whole world anything inanimate so graceful11, so almost alive, so light and so cruelly sharp and strong as the prow of a gondola? It is the very incarnation of the spirit of the Venetians of the Renaissance12.
To-night, as we penetrated13 the gloom that was absolute, except for the light of a tiny lantern on the deck forward, I could put myself back in the middle ages. I could see the black barge14 of the Fante, the captain of the inquisitorial guard, swiftly rowed with muffled15 oars16 to the palazzo of the unhappy wretch17 who had offended against the laws of Venice. The barge stops at his door; the bolts are slipped by a spy within; the messenger of torture and imprisonment18, somber19 as the night, makes his way to the bedside 130of the doomed20 man. He starts from his deep sleep; he is beckoned21 silently down the echoing stairs; he seats himself in the black barge; and so, shivering, he goes to his end.
We shot into one of the narrow, crooked22 little canals. And now our gondola scraped the very walls of the window-barred store-houses that once overflowed23 with the wealth of the Orient. It was impossible to think of myself as a simple gentleman with a letter of credit at my bankers. St. Hilary and I were marauders, adventurers, brawlers, and this prosaic24 umbrella between my knees was a long, keen blade, ready for a lively bout25 with the watch.
We were in the Giudecca now, dodging26 this chain and that of the shipping27 moored28 along the Fondamenta della Zattere. As we made for the shore opposite, the rain, which had been coming down in a gentle drizzle29, fell smartly, and St. Hilary shouted to the gondolier to row faster.
Giudecca quarter is anything but fashionable. Gondoliers repeat the word twice with scorn when the tourist expresses a wish to go there. Steamers from Greece and America, laden30 with corn, are anchored along its quay31. From early dawn to night, hundreds of barefooted stevedores32, each with his sack on his shoulder, patter up the narrow plank33 that spans ship and shore. 131An instant they poise34 their burden on the scale that stands at the doorway35 of the magazines, while an official from the customs-house jealously notes that it is full weight. Then shouldering it again, they are swallowed up in the cavernous interiors.
Most of the old palaces of the Giudecca have degenerated36 into these store-houses. But here and there, as a thing so insignificant37 that it is overlooked, one finds a low-ceiled trattoria, where at the noon hour the stevedores drink the strong wines of Chioggia and shout out their lusty songs; or it may be an infinitesimal shop, where sharp-faced old women sell fish and cheese and cherries.
All day long children sprawl38 and quarrel and play on the sun-baked pavement; and artists paint endless pictures of the red and orange sails drifting slowly by, with the Salute39 and Ducal Palace for a background. Yes, the Giudecca quarter is the quarter of the people. But to me the stevedores, the children, and the haggling40 old women have a charm all their own. And here, at the Casa Frollo where I lived, no red-booked tourist sets foot.
Our gondolier, winded with his long pull against wind and tide, steered41 for some steps a hundred feet this side the Casa Frollo. I called 132to him to row farther up the quay, but St. Hilary irritably42 declared it easier for us to walk the distance than for him to row.
“But why walk in the rain?” I expostulated. “And how are you going to return to your hotel on the Riva if you dismiss your gondolier? Gondoliers hereabouts at two o’clock in the morning are as rare as horses on the Piazza43.”
“It happens that I don’t intend to return to-night to my hotel. As a matter of fact there will be no bed for you, my dear Hume.”
“No bed? It is not possible that you have already brought back our clock?”
“It is not only possible, it is true. I returned this evening in time to get your telegram and to meet you.”
“You have had it repaired in a week?”
“Yes; so far as it could be repaired.”
“Then there could not have been much the matter with it.”
“As it happened, there was not.”
“Then it seems to me that your trip to Amsterdam was not so very remarkable44 after all?” I grumbled.
“Sometimes,” quietly replied St. Hilary, “one has to go to a great deal of trouble and expense to get a merely negative result. Sometimes it is necessary to find out simply what a thing is not.”
133“And have you found out that it is not, after all, an automaton45 clock?”
“My dear fellow, be reasonable. In the first place, this clock had to be set going. It was too intricate a piece of mechanism46 to entrust47 to any blundering workman. Are you going to find fault because it has been set going without any trouble or delay? Every wheel of its works had to be taken apart.”
“And the object of that?”
“It was absolutely necessary that we should be certain that the secret of the clock, provided it has a secret, is told by the automata, and that this secret was not hidden in its works. Now, at least, we know what not to look for.”
“The automata themselves, then, hold the secret?”
“So far as we can tell at present. The fact is, I have heard only two of the hours strike.”
“And were the automata of the hours that you saw in working order?”
“One of them at least was, though, I confess, the result was slightly disappointing. However, I certainly did not expect the secret of the clock to be on the surface.”
We walked up the quay in silence. Suddenly, as we were crossing a bridge, St. Hilary seized my arm, his familiar gesture always for silence 134and caution. He looked over the parapet. Half a dozen black gondolas48, swaying in the wind, were tied to rings in the wall. In one of them sat a man. A piece of tarpaulin49 protected him from the rain. As we looked at him he struck a match to light his pipe, and I saw his face.
“Did you ever happen to see that gondolier before?” demanded St. Hilary as we walked on.
“Never, so far as I know,” I answered idly, peering through the rain for the landmark50 of Palazzo Frollo, two ridiculously small marble lions on the rail of the balcony of the second story.
“Hum, then perhaps I was mistaken. By the way, I met the duke on the Riva as I was going to the station to meet you.”
“Indeed?” I said indifferently. I was fumbling51 for my night-key. I had insisted on that essentially52 Anglo-Saxon convenience, and the door had been fitted with a lock at my expense. I glanced up carelessly at the windows of my sitting-room53, after the manner of one who has been away from home for a few days. A light was shining through the chink of the shutters54. I pointed55 it out to St. Hilary.
“I remember you told me that you had brought the clock to my rooms. You left the lamp burning, I see.”
135“I? No.”
“Then who can have been in my rooms?”
I heard St. Hilary chuckle56 in the darkness.
“Rather, say, who is in your room? Pianissimo, mio caro. It will be amusing to surprise this midnight guest. No, no; not a light, and silence.”
My rooms were on the second floor. We had to pass through the sala, a huge apartment, at least forty feet long, a T-square in shape, and it extended from the canal to the garden at the rear, the smaller part of the T-square running along the side of the canal. The ceiling of immense beams stretched from wall to wall. Once these beams had been gaily57 decorated with geometrical designs; now they were dingy58 with a faded coat of whitewash59. The room was lighted by the feeble rays of a night-lamp in a niche60 of the wall.
We tiptoed across the cold floor. Softly, very softly, I pushed down the straight handle of the door leading into my room. I drew this door cautiously toward me. A second door still hid us from the intruder, if intruder there was. Cautiously I pushed it ajar, and looked through the crack, St. Hilary squinting61 over my shoulder.
Duke da Sestos was seated in my room, and on a table immediately in front of him ticked the 136clock. A lighted candle stood on either side of it. He sat huddled62 in the deep armchair, his head sunk on his breast. But he was not asleep. His elbows rested on the arms of the chair; his legs were comfortably crossed. A box of cigarettes was at his elbow, and at his elbow, too, a decanter of brandy–my brandy.
I closed the door, and at that moment we heard very faintly from within an exquisite63 chime of silver bells. Then the hour of one was struck.
“By Jove, St. Hilary,” I said savagely64, “is that brute65 to amuse himself all night, drinking my liquors, listening to the chimes of our clock, unmolested?”
“Not unmolested,” chuckled66 St. Hilary softly.
“Ah, then, we stop his little game!”
“With all the pleasure in the world.”
He took off his cloak. It was very thick and dripping with moisture. He nodded at me, smiling.
“Yes, yes, you get the idea? Could a troublesome guest cry out indignantly if this fine cloak kept his head warm, do you think?”
He spread out the cloak on one outstretched arm, and tiptoed to the door again. I followed at his heels.
“But is this necessary?” I expostulated. “Why not throw him out without any ado?”
137St. Hilary looked at me with contempt.
“Do you forget the fourteen pages? We must see them. The chances are they are in his pocket. We are to be burglars for the nonce, dear Hume, and this cloak is to go over his head so that he won’t be too noisy.”
I nodded. “And the program?”
“It is very simple. His back is toward the door. When the next quarter chimes, I push open the door softly. I give a twist to my good cloak, and, voila, we shall have caught our prey67. Blow out the candles, then help me. We shall wrap the cloak comfortably about his head, so that he can not see or hear. Then I go through his pockets. If the stolen pages are there, very good. If not, his keys may be useful. Have you a rope? We must fasten his arms and legs.”
“Yes, a trunk-strap.”
“Good. En garde, then. I am extremely thirsty. My poor lips ache for a smack68 of that good liqueur.”
The clock chimed the half-hour sweetly. St. Hilary, holding the dripping cloak before him like a shield, pushed open the door.
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收听单词发音
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1
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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gondola
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| n.威尼斯的平底轻舟；飞船的吊船 | |
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shuns
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的第三人称单数 ) | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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6
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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10
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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11
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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12
renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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13
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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14
barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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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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16
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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17
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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18
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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19
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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20
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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21
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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25
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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26
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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27
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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28
moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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29
drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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30
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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32
stevedores
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| n.码头装卸工人，搬运工( stevedore的名词复数 ) | |
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33
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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34
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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35
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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36
degenerated
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| 衰退，堕落，退化( degenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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38
sprawl
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| vi.躺卧，扩张，蔓延；vt.使蔓延；n.躺卧，蔓延 | |
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39
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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40
haggling
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| v.讨价还价( haggle的现在分词 ) | |
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41
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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42
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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43
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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44
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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45
automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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46
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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47
entrust
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| v.信赖，信托，交托 | |
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48
gondolas
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| n.狭长小船( gondola的名词复数 )；货架（一般指商店，例如化妆品店）；吊船工作台 | |
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49
tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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50
landmark
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| n.陆标，划时代的事，地界标 | |
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51
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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52
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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53
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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54
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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55
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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56
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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57
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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58
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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59
whitewash
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| v.粉刷，掩饰；n.石灰水，粉刷，掩饰 | |
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60
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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61
squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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62
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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63
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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64
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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65
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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66
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
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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68
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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