Towards the close of the last century the Baron1 de Beaurepaire livedin the chateau2 of that name in Brittany. His family was ofprodigious antiquity3; seven successive barons4 had already flourishedon this spot when a younger son of the house accompanied hisneighbor the Duke of Normandy in his descent on England, and wasrewarded by a grant of English land, on which he dug a mote5 andbuilt a chateau, and called it Beaurepaire (the worthy6 Saxons turnedthis into Borreper without delay). Since that day more than twentygentlemen of the same lineage had held in turn the original chateauand lands, and handed them down to their present lord.
Thus rooted in his native Brittany, Henri Lionel Marie St. Quentinde Beaurepaire was as fortunate as any man can be pronounced beforehe dies. He had health, rank, a good income, a fair domain7, agoodly house, a loving wife, and two lovely young daughters, allveneration and affection. Two months every year he visited theFaubourg St. Germain and the Court. At both every gentleman andevery lacquey knew his name, and his face: his return to Brittanyafter this short absence was celebrated8 by a rustic9 fete.
Above all, Monsieur de Beaurepaire possessed10 that treasure oftreasures, content. He hunted no heart-burns. Ambition did nottempt him; why should he listen to long speeches, and court theunworthy, and descend11 to intrigue12, for so precarious13 and equivocal aprize as a place in the Government, when he could be De Beaurepairewithout trouble or loss of self-respect? Social ambition could getlittle hold of him; let parvenus14 give balls half in doors, half out,and light two thousand lamps, and waste their substance battling andmanoeuvring for fashionable distinction; he had nothing to gain bysuch foolery, nothing to lose by modest living; he was the twenty-ninth Baron of Beaurepaire. So wise, so proud, so little vain, sostrong in health and wealth and honor, one would have said nothingless than an earthquake could shake this gentleman and his house.
Yet both were shaken, though rooted by centuries to the soil; and byno vulgar earthquake.
For years France had bowed in silence beneath two galling15 burdens--aselfish and corrupt16 monarchy17, and a multitudinous, privileged, lazy,and oppressive aristocracy, by whom the peasant was handled like aRussian serf. [Said peasant is now the principal proprietor18 of thesoil.]
The lower orders rose upon their oppressors, and soon showedthemselves far blacker specimens19 of the same breed. Law, religion,humanity, and common sense, hid their faces; innocent blood flowedin a stream, and terror reigned20. To Monsieur de Beaurepaire theserepublicans--murderers of women, children, and kings--seemed themost horrible monsters nature had ever produced; he put on black,and retired21 from society; he felled timber, and raised large sums ofmoney upon his estate. And one day he mounted his charger, anddisappeared from the chateau.
Three months after this, a cavalier, dusty and pale, rode into thecourtyard of Beaurepaire, and asked to see the baroness22. She cameto him; he hung his head and held her out a letter.
It contained a few sad words from Monsieur de Laroche-jaquelin. Thebaron had just fallen in La Vendee, fighting for the Crown.
From that hour till her death the baroness wore black.
The mourner would have been arrested, and perhaps beheaded, but fora friend, the last in the world on whom the family reckoned for anysolid aid. Dr. Aubertin had lived in the chateau twenty years. Hewas a man of science, and did not care a button for money; so he hadretired from the practice of medicine, and pursued his researches atease under the baron's roof. They all loved him, and laughed at hisoccasional reveries, in the days of prosperity; and now, in onegreat crisis, the protege became the protector, to their astonishmentand his own. But it was an age of ups and downs. This amiabletheorist was one of the oldest verbal republicans in Europe. Andwhy not? In theory a republic is the perfect form of government:
it is merely in practice that it is impossible; it is only upongoing off paper into reality, and trying actually to self-governlimited nations, after heating them white hot with the fire ofpolitics and the bellows23 of bombast--that the thing resolvesitself into bloodshed silvered with moonshine.
Dr. Aubertin had for years talked and written speculativerepublicanism. So they applied24 to him whether the baroness sharedher husband's opinions, and he boldly assured them she did not; headded, "She is a pupil of mine." On this audacious statement theycontented themselves with laying a heavy fine on the lands ofBeaurepaire.
Assignats were abundant, but good mercantile paper, a notoriouscoward, had made itself wings and fled, and specie was creeping intostrong boxes like a startled rabbit into its hole. The fine waspaid; but Beaurepaire had to be heavily mortgaged, and the loan borea high rate of interest. This, with the baron's previous mortgages,swamped the estate.
The baroness sold her carriage and horses, and she and her daughtersprepared to deny themselves all but the bare necessaries of life,and pay off their debts if possible. On this their dependants25 fellaway from them; their fair-weather friends came no longer near them;and many a flush of indignation crossed their brows, and many anaching pang26 their hearts, as adversity revealed the baseness andinconstancy of common people high or low.
When the other servants had retired with their wages, one Jacintharemained behind, and begged permission to speak to the baroness.
"What would you with me, my child?" asked that lady, with an accentin which a shade of surprise mingled27 with great politeness.
"Forgive me, madame," began Jacintha, with a formal courtesy; "buthow can I leave you, and Mademoiselle Josephine, and MademoiselleRose? I was born at Beaurepaire; my mother died in the chateau: myfather died in the village; but he had meat every day from thebaron's own table, and fuel from the baron's wood, and died blessingthe house of Beaurepaire. I CANNOT go. The others are gone becauseprosperity is here no longer. Let it be so; I will stay till thesun shines again upon the chateau, and then you shall send me awayif you are bent28 on it; but not now, my ladies--oh, not now! Oh! oh!
oh!" And the warm-hearted girl burst out sobbing29 ungracefully.
"My child," said the baroness, "these sentiments touch me, and honoryou. But retire, if you please, while I consult my daughters."Jacintha cut her sobs30 dead short, and retreated with a formalreverence.
The consultation31 consisted of the baroness opening her arms, andboth her daughters embracing her at once. Proud as they were, theywept with joy at having made one friend amongst all their servants.
Jacintha stayed.
As months rolled on, Rose de Beaurepaire recovered her naturalgayety in spite of bereavement32 and poverty; so strong are youth, andhealth, and temperament33. But her elder sister had a grief all herown: Captain Dujardin, a gallant34 young officer, well-born, and hisown master, had courted her with her parents' consent; and, evenwhen the baron began to look coldly on the soldier of the Republic,young Dujardin, though too proud to encounter the baron's irony35 andlooks of scorn, would not yield love to pique36. He came no more tothe chateau, but he would wait hours and hours on the path to thelittle oratory37 in the park, on the bare chance of a passing word oreven a kind look from Josephine. So much devotion gradually won aheart which in happier times she had been half encouraged to givehim; and, when he left her on a military service of uncommon38 danger,the woman's reserve melted, and, in that moment of mutual39 grief andpassion, she vowed40 she loved him better than all the world.
Letters from the camp breathing a devotion little short of worshipfed her attachment41; and more than one public mention of his name andservices made her proud as well as fond of the fiery42 young soldier.
Still she did not open her heart to her parents. The baron, aliveat that time, was exasperated43 against the Republic, and all whoserved it; and, as for the baroness, she was of the old school: apassionate love in a lady's heart before marriage was contrary toher notions of etiquette44. Josephine loved Rose very tenderly; butshrank with modest delicacy45 from making her a confidante offeelings, the bare relation of which leaves the female hearer achild no longer.
So she hid her heart, and delicious first love nestled deep in hernature, and thrilled in every secret vein46 and fibre.
They had parted two years, and he had joined the army of thePyrenees about one month, when suddenly all correspondence ceased onhis part.
Restless anxiety rose into terror as this silence continued; andstarting and trembling at every sound, and edging to the window atevery footstep, Josephine expected hourly the tidings of her lover'sdeath.
Months rolled on in silence.
Then a new torture came. He must not be dead but unfaithful. Atthis all the pride of her race was fired in her.
The struggle between love and ire was almost too much for nature:
violently gay and moody47 by turns she alarmed both her mother and thegood Dr. Aubertin. The latter was not, I think, quite withoutsuspicion of the truth; however, he simply prescribed change of airand place; she must go to Frejus, a watering-place distant aboutfive leagues. Mademoiselle de Beaurepaire yielded a languid assent48.
To her all places were alike.
But when they returned from Frejus a change had taken place. Rosehad extracted her sister's secret, and was a changed girl. Pity,and the keen sense of Josephine's wrong, had raised her sisterlylove to a passion. The great-hearted girl hovered49 about her lovely,suffering sister like an angel, and paid her the tender attentionsof a devoted50 lover, and hated Camille Dujardin with all her heart:
hated him all the more that she saw Josephine shrink even from herwhenever she inveighed51 against him.
At last Rose heard some news of the truant52 lover. The fact is, thisyoung lady was as intelligent as she was inexperienced; and she hadasked Jacintha to tell Dard to talk to every soldier that passedthrough the village, and ask him if he knew anything about CaptainDujardin of the 17th regiment53. Dard cross-examined about a hundredinvalided warriors55, who did not even recognize the captain's name;but at last, by extraordinary luck, he actually did fall in withtwo, who told him strange news about Captain Dujardin. And so thenDard told Jacintha; and Jacintha soon had the men into the kitchenand told Rose. Rose ran to tell Josephine; but stopped in thepassage, and turned suddenly very cold. Her courage failed her; shefeared Josephine would not take the news as she ought; and perhapswould not love her so well if SHE told her; so she thought toherself she would let the soldiers tell their own tale. She wentinto the room where Josephine was reading to the baroness and Dr.
Aubertin; she sat quietly down; but at the first opportunity madeJosephine one of those imperceptible signals which women, and aboveall, sisters, have reduced to so subtle a system. This done, shewent carelessly out: and Josephine in due course followed her, andfound her at the door.
"What is it?" said Josephine, earnestly.
"Have you courage?" was Rose's reply.
"He is dead?" said Josephine, turning pale as ashes.
"No, no;" said Rose hastily; "he is alive. But you will need allyour courage.""Since he lives I fear nothing," said Josephine; and stood there andquivered from head to foot. Rose, with pitying looks, took her bythe hand and drew her in silence towards the kitchen.
Josephine yielded a mute submission56 at first; but at the very doorhung back and faltered57, "He loves another; he is married: let mego." Rose made no reply, but left her there and went into thekitchen and found two dragoons seated round a bottle of wine. Theyrose and saluted58 her.
"Be seated, my brave men," said she; "only please tell me what youtold Jacintha about Captain Dujardin.""Don't stain your mouth with the captain, my little lady. He is atraitor.""How do you know?""Marcellus! mademoiselle asks us how we know Captain Dujardin to bea traitor59. Speak."Marcellus, thus appealed to, told Rose after his own fashion that heknew the captain well: that one day the captain rode out of the campand never returned: that at first great anxiety was felt on hisbehalf, for the captain was a great favorite, and passed for thesmartest soldier in the division: that after awhile anxiety gaveplace to some very awkward suspicions, and these suspicions it washis lot and his comrade's here to confirm. About a month later heand the said comrade and two more were sent, well mounted, toreconnoitre a Spanish village. At the door of a little inn theycaught sight of a French uniform. This so excited their curiositythat he went forward nearer than prudent60, and distinctly recognizedCaptain Dujardin seated at a table drinking between two guerillas;then he rode back and told the others, who then came up andsatisfied themselves it was so: that if any of the party hadentertained a doubt, it was removed in an unpleasant way; he,Marcellus, disgusted at the sight of a French uniform drinking amongSpaniards, took down his carabine and fired at the group ascarefully as a somewhat restive61 horse permitted: at this, as if bymagic, a score or so of guerillas poured out from Heaven knowswhere, musket62 in hand, and delivered a volley; the officer incommand of the party fell dead, Jean Jacques here got a broken arm,and his own horse was wounded in two places, and fell from loss ofblood a few furlongs from the French camp, to the neighborhood ofwhich the vagabonds pursued them, hallooing and shouting and firinglike barbarous banditti as they were.
"However, here I am," concluded Marcellus, "invalided54 for awhile, mylady, but not expended63 yet: we will soon dash in among them againfor death or glory. Meantime," concluded he, filling both glasses,"let us drink to the eyes of beauty (military salute); and to therenown of France; and double damnation to all her traitors64, likethat Captain Dujardin; whose neck may the devil twist."Ere they could drink to this energetic toast, a low wail65 at thedoor, like a dying hare's, arrested the glasses on their road, andthe rough soldiers stood transfixed, and looked at one another insome dismay. Rose flew to the door with a face full of concern.
Josephine was gone.
Then Rose had the tact66 and resolution to say a few kind, encouragingwords to the soldiers, and bid Jacintha be hospitable67 to them. Thisdone she darted68 up-stairs after Josephine; she reached the maincorridor just in time to see her creep along it with the air andcarriage of a woman of fifty, and enter her own room.
Rose followed softly with wet eyes, and turned the handle gently.
But the door was locked.
"Josephine! Josephine!"No answer.
"I want to speak to you. I am frightened. Oh, do not be alone."A choking voice answered, "Give me a little while to draw mybreath." Rose sank down at the door, and sat close to it, with herhead against it, sobbing bitterly. She was hurt at not being letin; such a friend as she had proved herself. But this personalfeeling was only a fraction of her grief and anxiety.
A good half hour elapsed ere Josephine, pale and stern as no one hadever seen her till that hour, suddenly opened the door. She startedat sight of Rose couched sorrowful on the threshold; her stern lookrelaxed into tender love and pity; she sank, blushing, on her knees,and took her sister's head quickly to her bosom69. "Oh, my littlelove, have you been here all this time?"--"Oh! oh! oh!" was all thelittle love could reply. Then the deserted70 one, still kneeling,took Rose in her lap, and caressed71 and comforted her, and pouredwords of gratitude72 and affection over her like a warm shower.
They rose hand in hand.
Then Rose suddenly seized Josephine, and looked long and anxiouslydown into her eyes. They flashed fire under the scrutiny73. "Yes, itis all over; I could not despise and love. I am dead to him, as heis dead to France."This was joyful74 news to Rose. "I hoped it would be so," said she;"but you frightened me. My noble sister, were I ever to lose youresteem, I should die. Oh, how awful yet how beautiful is yourscorn. For worlds I would not be that Cam"-- Josephine laid herhand imperiously on Rose's mouth. "To mention his name to me willbe to insult me; De Beaurepaire I am, and a Frenchwoman. Come,dear, let us go down and comfort our mother."They went down; and this patient sufferer, and high mindedconqueror, of her own accord took up a commonplace book, and readaloud for two mortal hours to her mother and Aubertin. Her voiceonly wavered twice.
To feel that life is ended; to wish existence, too, had ceased; andso to sit down, an aching hollow, and take a part and sham75 aninterest in twaddle to please others; such are woman's feats76. Howlike nothing at all they look!
A man would rather sit on the buffer77 of a steam-engine and ride atthe Great Redan.
Rose sat at her elbow, a little behind her, and turned the leaves,and on one pretence78 or other held Josephine's hand nearly all therest of the day. Its delicate fibres remained tense, like agreyhound's sinews after a race, and the blue veins79 rose to sight init, though her voice and eyes were mastered.
So keen was the strife80, so matched the antagonists81, so hard thevictory.
For ire and scorn are mighty82. And noble blood in a noble heart isheroic. And Love is a giant.
收听单词发音 |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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barons
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| 男爵( baron的名词复数 )； 巨头； 大王； 大亨 | |
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mote
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| n.微粒；斑点 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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parvenus
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| n.暴富者( parvenu的名词复数 )；暴发户；新贵；傲慢自负的人 | |
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galling
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| adj.难堪的,使烦恼的,使焦躁的 | |
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corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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monarchy
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| n.君主，最高统治者；君主政体，君主国 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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baroness
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| n.男爵夫人，女男爵 | |
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bellows
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| n.风箱；发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的名词复数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的第三人称单数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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applied
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dependants
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pang
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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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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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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bereavement
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temperament
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gallant
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irony
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pique
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oratory
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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etiquette
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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vein
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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inveighed
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| v.猛烈抨击，痛骂，谩骂( inveigh的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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truant
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| n.懒惰鬼，旷课者；adj.偷懒的，旷课的，游荡的；v.偷懒，旷课 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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invalided
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| 使伤残（invalid的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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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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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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musket
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| n.滑膛枪 | |
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expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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buffer
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| n.起缓冲作用的人(或物)，缓冲器；vt.缓冲 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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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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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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antagonists
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| 对立[对抗] 者，对手，敌手( antagonist的名词复数 )； 对抗肌； 对抗药 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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