Joan Fordibras Makes a Confession1.
A French valet came to me when General Fordibras had gone, and offered both to send to the yacht for any luggage I might need, and also, if I wished it, to have the English doctor, Wilson, up from Villa2 do Porto, to see me. This also had been the General’s idea; but I had no hurt of last night’s affray beyond a few bruises3 and an abrasion4 of the skin where I fell; and I declined the service as politely as might be. As for my luggage, I had taken a dressing5-case to the Villa San Jorge, and this had now been brought up to the chalet, as the fellow told me. I said that it would suffice for the brief stay I intended to make at Santa Maria; and dressing impatiently, I went down to make a better acquaintance both with the house and its inmates6.
Imagine a pretty Swiss chalet set high in the cleft7 of a mountain, with a well-wooded green valley of its own lying at its very door, and beyond the valley, on the far side, the sheer cliff of a lesser8 peak, rising up so forbiddingly that it might have been the great wall of a fortress9 or a castle. Such was Valley House, a dot upon the mountain side—a jalousied, red-roofed cottage, guarded everywhere by walls of rock, and yet possessing its own little park, which boasted almost a tropic luxuriance. Never have I seen a greater variety of shrubs10, or such an odd assortment11, in any garden either of Europe or Africa. Box, Scotch12 fir, a fine show both of orange and lemon in bloom, the citron, the pomegranate, African palms, Australian eucalyptus13, that abundant fern, the native cabellinho—here you had them all in an atmosphere which suggested the warm valleys of the Pyrenees, beneath a sky which the Riviera might have shown to you. So much I perceived directly I went out upon the verandah of the house. The men who had built this chalet had built a retreat among the hills, which the richest might envy. I did not wonder that General Fordibras could speak of it with pride.
There was no one but an old negro servant about the house when I passed out to the verandah; and beyond wishing me “Good-morning, Massa Doctor,” I found him entirely14 uncommunicative. A clock in the hall made out the time to be a quarter past eleven. I perceived that the table had been laid for the mid-day breakfast, and that two covers were set. The second would be for Joan Fordibras, I said; and my heart beating a little wildly at the thought, I determined15, if it was possible, to reconnoitre the situation before her arrival, and to know the best or the worst of it at once. That I was a prisoner of the valley I never had a doubt. It lay upon me, then, to face the fact and so to reckon with it that my wit should find the door which these men had so cunningly closed upon me.
Now, the first observation that I made, standing16 upon the verandah of the house, was one concerning the sea and my situation regarding it. I observed immediately that the harbour of Villa do Porto lay hidden from my view by the Eastern cliff of the valley. The Atlantic showed me but two patches of blue-green water, one almost to the south-west, and a second, of greater extent, to the north. Except for these glimpses of the ocean, I had no view of the world without the valley—not so much as that of a roof or spire17 or even of the smoke of a human habitation. Whoever had chosen this site for his chalet of the hills had chosen it where man could not pry18 upon him nor even ships at sea become acquainted with his movements. The fact was so very evident that I accepted it at once, and turned immediately to an examination of the grounds themselves. In extent, perhaps, a matter of five acres, my early opinion of their security was in no way altered by a closer inspection19 of them. They were, I saw, girt about everywhere by the sheer walls of monstrous20 cliffs; and as though to add to the suggestion of terror, I discovered that they were defended in their weakness by a rushing torrent21 of boiling water, foaming22 upwards23 from some deep, natural pool below, and thence rushing in a very cataract24 close to the wall of the mountain at the one spot where a clever mountaineer might have climbed the arrête of the precipice25 and so broken the prison. This coincidence hardly presented its true meaning to me at the first glance. I came to understand it later, as you shall see.
Walls of rock everywhere; no visible gate; no path or road, no crevice26 or gully by which a man might enter this almost fabulous27 valley from without! To this conclusion I came at the end of my first tour of the grounds. No prison had ever been contrived28 so cunningly; no human retreat made more inaccessible29. As they had carried me through a tunnel of the mountain last night, so I knew that the owner of the chalet came and had returned, and that, until I found the gate of that cavern30 and my wits unlocked it, I was as surely hidden from the knowledge of men as though the doors of the Schlussenburg had closed upon me.
Such a truth could not but appal31 me. I accepted it with something very like a shudder32 and, seeking to forget it, I returned to the hither garden and its many evidences of scientific horticulture. Here, truly, the hand of civilisation33 and of the human amenities34 had left its imprint35. If this might be, as imagination suggested, a valley of crime unknown, of cruelty and suffering and lust36, none the less had those who peopled it looked up sometimes to the sun or bent37 their heads in homage38 to the rose. Even at this inclement39 season, I found blooms abundantly which England would not have given me until May. One pretty bower40 I shall never forget—an arbour perched upon a grassy41 bank with a mountain pool and fountain before its doors, and trailing creeper about it, and the great red flower of begonia giving it a sheen of crimson42, very beautiful and welcome amidst this maze43 of green. Here I would have entered to make a note upon paper of all that the morning had taught me; but I was hardly at the door of the little house when I discovered that another occupied it already, and starting back as she looked up, I found myself face to face with Joan Fordibras.
She sat before a rude table of entwined logs, her face resting upon weary arms, and her dark chestnut44 hair streaming all about her. I saw that she had been weeping, and that tears still glistened45 upon the dark lashes46 of her eloquent47 eyes. Her dress was a simple morning gown of muslin, and a bunch of roses had been crushed by her nervous fingers and the leaves scattered48, one by one, upon the ground. At my coming, the colour rushed back to her cheeks, and she half rose as though afraid of me. I stood my ground, however, for her sake and my own. Now must I speak with her, now once and for ever tell her that which I had come to Santa Maria to say.
“Miss Fordibras,” I said quietly; “you are in trouble and I can help you.”
She did not answer me. A flood of tears seemed to conquer her.
“Yes,” she said—and how changed she was from my little Joan of Dieppe!—“Yes, Dr. Fabos, I am in trouble.”
I crossed the arbour and seated myself near her.
“The grief of being misnamed the daughter of a man who is unworthy of being called your father. Tell me if I am mistaken. You are not the daughter of Hubert Fordibras? You are no real relative of his?”
A woman’s curiosity is often as potent49 an antidote50 to grief as artifice51 may devise. I shall never forget the look upon Joan Fordibras’s face when I confessed an opinion I had formed but the half of an hour ago. She was not the General’s daughter. The manner in which he had spoken of her was not the manner of a father uttering the name of his child.
“Did my father tell you that?” she asked me, looking up amazed.
“He has told me nothing save that I should enjoy your company and that of your companion at the breakfast table. Miss Aston, I suppose, is detained?”
This shrewd and very innocent untruth appeared to give her confidence. I think that she believed it. The suggestion that we were not to be alone together did much to make the situation possible. She sat upright now, and began again to pluck the rose leaves from her posy.
“Miss Aston is at the Villa San Jorge. I did not wish to come alone, but my father insisted. That’s why you found me crying. I hated it. I hate this place, and everyone about it. You know that I do, Dr. Fabos. They cannot hide anything from you. I said so when first I saw you in London. You are one of those men to whom women tell everything. I could not keep a secret from you if my life depended upon it.”
“Is there any necessity to do so, Miss Fordibras? Are not some secrets best told to our friends?”
I saw that she was greatly tempted53, and it occurred to me that what I had to contend against was some pledge or promise she had given to General Fordibras. This man’s evil influence could neither be concealed54 nor denied. She had passed her word to him, and would not break it.
“I will tell you nothing—I dare not,” she exclaimed at length, wrestling visibly with a wild desire to speak. “It would not help you; it could not serve you. Leave the place at once, Dr. Fabos. Never think or speak of us again. Go right now at once. Say good-bye to me, and try to forget that such a person exists. That’s my secret; that’s what I came up here to tell you, never mind what you might think of me.”
A crimson blush came again to her pretty cheeks, and she feared to look me in the eyes. I had quite made up my mind how to deal with her, and acted accordingly. Her promise I respected. Neither fear of the General nor good-will toward me must induce her to break it.
“That’s a fine word of wisdom,” I said; “but it appears to me that I want a pair of wings if I am to obey you. Did they not tell you that I am a prisoner here?”
“A prisoner—oh no, no?——”
“Indeed, so—a prisoner who has yet to find the road which leads to the sea-shore. Sooner or later I shall discover it, and we will set out upon it together. At the moment, my eyes show me nothing but the hills. Perhaps I am grown a little blind, dear child. If that is so, you must lead me.”
She started up amazed, and ran to the door of the arbour. The quick pulsations of her heart were to be counted beneath her frail55 gown of muslin. I could see that she looked away to the corner of the gardens where the boiling spring swirled56 and eddied57 beneath the shallow cliff.
“The bridge is there—down there by the water,” she cried excitedly. “I crossed it an hour ago—an iron bridge, Dr. Fabos, with a little flight of steps leading up to it. Why do you talk so wildly? Am I so foolish, then?”
I went and stood beside her, a rose from her bundle in my hand.
“The elves play with us,” I said evasively; “your bridge has vanished with the morning mists. The fairies must have carried it over the mountains for the love of a footprint. Let us put it out of our thoughts. Who knows, if we have the mind, that we cannot build another?”
This I said that she might read into it a deeper meaning of my confidence, but the words were vain. White and frightened and terribly afraid, she looked at me for an instant as though I were in some way a consenting party to this evil conspiracy58; then as quickly repented59 of her look, and declared her woman’s heart.
“I cannot believe it,” she cried; “I am so helpless. Tell me, Dr. Fabos, what shall I do—in God’s name, what shall I do?”
“Accept my friendship and bestow60 upon me your confidence. Promise that you will leave this place when I leave it, and end for ever your association with these men? I ask nothing more. My own secret must go with me yet a little while. But I shall call you Joan, and no name shall be dearer to me—if you wish it, little comrade?”
She turned from me, the hot tears in her eyes. I knew that she would never be afraid of me again, and when a little while had passed I led her to the house, and, as any brother and sister, we sat at the breakfast table and spoke52 of common things.
And yet, God knows, the shame of such an hour lay heavily upon me. For had not these people been willing to buy their own safety at the price of this young girl’s honour?
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1
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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abrasion
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| n.磨（擦）破，表面磨损 | |
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5
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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6
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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7
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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8
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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11
assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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12
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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13
eucalyptus
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| n.桉树，桉属植物 | |
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14
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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15
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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16
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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17
spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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18
pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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19
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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20
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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21
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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22
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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23
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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24
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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25
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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26
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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27
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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28
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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29
inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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30
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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31
appal
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| vt.使胆寒，使惊骇 | |
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32
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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33
civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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34
amenities
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| n.令人愉快的事物；礼仪；礼节；便利设施；礼仪( amenity的名词复数 )；便利设施；（环境等的）舒适；（性情等的）愉快 | |
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35
imprint
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| n.印痕，痕迹；深刻的印象；vt.压印，牢记 | |
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36
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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38
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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39
inclement
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| adj.严酷的，严厉的，恶劣的 | |
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40
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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41
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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42
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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43
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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44
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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45
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
lashes
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| 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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47
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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48
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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49
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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50
antidote
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| n.解毒药，解毒剂 | |
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51
artifice
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| n.妙计，高明的手段；狡诈，诡计 | |
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52
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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53
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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54
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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55
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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56
swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
eddied
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| 起漩涡，旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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59
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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