But what mind perturbed1 can command repose2? Every ugly demon3 of disquiet4 that his situation could breed took form and sat beside him on the narrow bed. Three there were of a special torment5. One with the eyes of hatred6 that Lady Gerardine had fixed7 upon him that evening. A twin demon that for ever repeated in his ear: "You should have died, that he might live." And a third, whose face was veiled, whose immutable8 hand pointed9 towards the empty sandy desert of the future.
When at last, far on in the watches of the night, sleep did fall upon him, it was in trouble and confusion of mind—a dream-struggle with fate, more painful even than the reality.
He was back in the midst of the siege—one of the starving, thirst-plagued, harassed10 garrison11. They were hard pressed, piling sandbags on a newly defiladed rampart, but his men were a leaden weight upon him. He could not stir them to activity; when he tried to shout orders or expostulation, he could bring forth12 nothing but a whisper. Always the barricades13 melted away beneath his touch, his very rifle twisted like wax when he handled it, and then there sprang into the breach14 Muhammed Saif-u-din, one of an endless chain of leaping swordsmen: and Muhammed stood with folded arms smiling at him ironically.
Once again the siege. They were going to bury Vane. A file of little Goorkhas were picking the grave, and he was working at it too with the shot whistling overhead. Never was grave so hard to dig. They toiled15, it seemed to him, for years, and still the stones rolled back into the hole and all was to begin again. Then suddenly it was ready: they were lowering the stiff figure, rolled in a cerement of tent canvas, into the shallow ditch. And a flap of the cloth fell back from over the face of the dead. It was not the face of Vane, but the face of Harry16 English. Then, with the awful knowledge of the dreamer, Bethune knew that Harry was not dead. But when he tried to call out to the others to stop, again he had no voice. He saw a little brown Goorkha twist the cloth over the livid countenance17. They began shovelling18 the stony19 earth upon his friend; and while he felt in his own lungs the suffocation20 of him that is buried alive, a voice said in his ear: "What is it to you? You, who should have died that he might live!"
The suffocation continued so intense as to drown in physical torture even the workings of the over-active brain. Then, out of the blank, dream-consciousness struggled back to him. And again it was the siege. He was on his hard and narrow couch; it was the middle of the night, there was a great anxious rumour21 about him; sentries22 were calling; the enemy were upon them. In spite of anguished23 struggle, Bethune remained bound, hand and foot, while never had his spirit been more vividly24 awake. He could hear the running footsteps of the men in the passages, the thud, thud of the soft-shod Easterns. He could hear some one break into his room, hear himself called: "Raymond, Raymond!" And with the curious double personality of the sleeper25, he told himself that it was years since any one had called him by that name—long and forlorn years of solitary26 life.
"Raymond!" called the voice, and the red light as of a torch burned through his closed eyelids27. "Wake, Raymond!"
He knew who it was. It was Harry; his comrade who wanted him in the danger. What shame to be sleeping at such a moment!
Bethune wrenched28 himself from his pillow and sat upright. The room was full of light to his dazzled eyes; and the voice, the voice of Harry English, was still ringing in his ears.
Muhammed Saif-u-din, who had been bending over the bed, one hand on the sleeper's shoulder, withdrew his touch and straightened himself. In his left hand he held a candle. The light flickered29 upon his dense30 black beard. But he was turbanless, and the tossed crisp hair was boyishly loose over his brow. His eyes were fixed upon Bethune, and Bethune stared back. Then Muhammed spoke31:
"Raymond," he said.
For a moment that was heavier in the scales of time than most hours of men's lives, the two plunged32 their gaze into each other.
"My God," said Bethune, in a whisper then, "you!"
A dream! Another dream of torture! Nay33, no dream this time; he was awake. The unbelievable had happened. The grave had yawned and given out a living man. Harry English was alive. He had come back from the bourne whence no traveller returns, to claim his own—to claim his wife. As in a sudden vision, more vivid than any of his troubled fancies had been to-night, Bethune saw them in each other's arms, and was himself stabbed through and through by daggers34 of fire—he, the man whose misery35 it was to love his friend's wife! ...
The dead had heard her call. He could see it all now, with horrible lucidity36. All was clear to him. He himself had brought Lady Gerardine, the forgetful, back to the memory of her love. She had called, and Harry had come—from death.
And here he stood, Harry English, looking into his friend's eyes, reading his friend's soul. Suddenly Bethune grew cold to the marrow37.
He would have given everything he had, his life by inches, to be able at that instant to veil those tell-tale eyes of his. But in vain; he could not drop the lids between them. At last, with a short laugh, Harry English turned away and released him, and Bethune covered his face with his hands.
Oh life, more cruel than death! These two had been closer than brothers; it was eternity38 itself that was giving them back to each other. And thus did they meet!
"Bethune," said he that had been the Pathan, in brief decided39 accents which once again whirled Raymond back to the hours when all had hung upon their leader in the crucial emergency, "there is no time for explanation. Every moment just now is precious. I must have this beard off—I want scissors, razors." As he spoke he tore his long coat from his back; he caught up the razors on the dressing-table with impatient hands. "Scissors, man, scissors! And for the Lord's sake, give me some more light!"
Bethune sprang out of bed as if he had indeed gone back to that past of which he had been dreaming and his commanding officer had called upon his services.
No stranger scene had ever been enacted40 within the narrow limits of this antique room, nor one more fraught41 with vital significance: though here, perchance, life had been born, and from here, surely, life had departed.
A silence as heavy as the last doom42 lay between the comrades; and every second as it passed was ticked off, it seemed, by Bethune's heart. Death they had faced together often—it was at the test of life that friendship had faltered43.
Swiftly the glossy44 wings of the Pathan's beard fell under the snipping45 blades. And when he had exhausted46 what aid he could render, Bethune sat on the edge of the bed and watched the passing of Saif-u-din and the rising of Harry English from the dead.
There was one moment of outward triviality which yet, to the looker-on, was charged with a pain almost beyond bearing; it was when English, with the lather47 white upon his chin and cheek, turned quickly round upon him with hands outstretched for a towel. How often had not he seen his comrade thus, in the old days, when they had lived together, marched together, laughed and fought and suffered together, and he had been so happy!
The shaving accomplished48, Captain English bent49 forward to the mirror and occupied himself with minute care in trimming and combing the flaunting50, upturned moustache of the Pathan back to the old sober limits. There was not a quiver in the strong busy hands.
Vaguely51 Bethune, in the chaos52 of his thoughts, wondered how he could ever have believed this man dead. Such as he did not die, so long as they were wanted in life.
Then it was Harry English, indeed, that looked round. If Bethune's brain had had room for any doubt, the doubt must have died at that instant. Harry English, pallid53, where for years the Eastern beard had grown so close—almost as with the pallor of the cheek upon which the earth has lain—worn, not so much by these same years as by a devouring54 impatience55 sternly held: but the old leader nevertheless, with such a light in his dark eyes as had been wont56 to kindle57 there when he called his men into the heart of the fight.
He spoke suddenly, abruptly58; and the other found once more the exorbitant59 situation heightened rather than lowered by the very triviality of the words that marked it:
"I suppose," he said, "that you can lend me a coat. Where is it? In your bag?"
He could not wait for his companion to draw his wits together. In a couple of movements the whole contents of the portmanteau were on the floor, and his arm was already in the sleeve of a shooting-jacket.
This urgency of haste, under strong control though it was, awoke an answering fever in Bethune's veins60. Oh, there was no need of words to make him understand! When he thought of her to whom the husband was hastening, his own heart beat to madness.
In two steps Harry was at the door, when Bethune, with an inarticulate sound, flung himself before him, stretching out his arms. So poignantly61 familiar did the old comrade look in the shabby shooting-jacket that his heart was all dissolved within him for ruth and tenderness.
A second English fixed his friend with cold and steel-bright glance, inquiring: then his face relaxed.
"Not now, Raymond," said he, put him on one side with quick but kindly62 touch, and was gone.
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收听单词发音
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1
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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disquiet
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| n.担心，焦虑 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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immutable
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| adj.不可改变的，永恒的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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barricades
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| 路障，障碍物( barricade的名词复数 ) | |
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breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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15
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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18
shovelling
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| v.铲子( shovel的现在分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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19
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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suffocation
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| n.窒息 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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23
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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24
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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26
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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27
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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28
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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29
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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31
spoke
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| 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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32
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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33
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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34
daggers
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| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
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35
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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lucidity
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| n.明朗，清晰，透明 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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38
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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39
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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40
enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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42
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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43
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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44
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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45
snipping
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| n.碎片v.剪( snip的现在分词 ) | |
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46
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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47
lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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48
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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49
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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50
flaunting
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| adj.招摇的，扬扬得意的，夸耀的v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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51
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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52
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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53
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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54
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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55
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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56
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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57
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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58
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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exorbitant
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| adj.过分的；过度的 | |
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60
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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61
poignantly
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62
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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