Slowly the winter drew nigh, and spread over all like a shroudleisurely drawn1. Gray days followed one another, but Yann appeared nomore, and the two women lived on in their loneliness. With the cold,their daily existence became harder and more expensive.
Old Yvonne was difficult to tend, too; her poor mind was going. Shegot into fits of temper now, and spoke2 wicked, insulting speeches onceor twice every week; it took her so, like a child, about merenothings.
Poor old granny! She was still so sweet in her lucid3 days, that Gauddid not cease to respect and cherish her. To have always been so goodand to end by being bad, and show towards the close a depth of maliceand spitefulness that had slumbered4 during her whole life, to use awhole vocabulary of coarse words that she had hidden; what mockery ofthe soul! what a derisive5 mystery! She began to sing, too, which wasstill more painful to hear than her angry words, for she mixedeverything up together--the /oremus/ of a mass with refrains of loosesongs heard in the harbour from wandering sailors. Sometimes she sang"/Les Fillettes de Paimpol/" (The Lasses of Paimpol), or, nodding herhead and beating time with her foot, she would mutter:
"Mon mari vient de partir;Pour la peche d'Islande, mon mari vient de partir,Il m'a laissee sans le sou,Mais--trala, trala la lou,J'en gagne, j'en gagne."(My husband went off sailingUpon the Iceland cruise,But never left me money,Not e'en a couple sous.
But--ri too loo! ri tooral loo!
I know what to do!)She always stopped short, while her eyes opened wide with a lifelessexpression, like those dying flames that suddenly flash out beforefading away. She hung her head and remained speechless for a greatlength of time, her lower jaw6 dropping as in the dead.
One day she could remember nothing of her grandson. "Sylvestre?
Sylvestre?" repeated she, wondering whom Gaud meant; "oh! my dear,d'ye see, I've so many of them, that now I can't remember theirnames!"So saying she threw up her poor wrinkled hands, with a careless,almost contemptuous toss. But the next day she remembered him quitewell; mentioning several things he had said or done, and that wholeday long she wept.
Oh! those long winter evenings when there was not enough wood fortheir fire; to work in the bitter cold for one's daily bread, sewinghard to finish the clothes brought over from Paimpol.
Granny Yvonne, sitting by the hearth7, remained quiet enough, her feetstuck in among the smouldering embers, and her hands clasped beneathher apron8. But at the beginning of the evening, Gaud always had totalk to her to cheer her a little.
"Why don't ye speak to me, my good girl? In my time I've known manygirls who had plenty to say for themselves. I don't think it 'ud seemso lonesome, if ye'd only talk a bit."So Gaud would tell her chit-chat she had heard in town, or spoke ofthe people she had met on her way home, talking of things that werequite indifferent to her, as indeed all things were now; and stoppingin the midst of her stories when she saw the poor old woman wasfalling asleep.
There seemed nothing lively or youthful around her, whose fresh youthyearned for youth. Her beauty would fade away, lonely and barren. Thewind from the sea came in from all sides, blowing her lamp about, andthe roar of the waves could be heard as in a ship. Listening, theever-present sad memory of Yann came to her, the man whose dominionwas these battling elements; through the long terrible nights, whenall things were unbridled and howling in the outer darkness, shethought of him with agony.
Always alone as she was, with the sleeping old granny, she sometimesgrew frightened and looked in all dark corners, thinking of thesailors, her ancestors, who had lived in these nooks, but perished inthe sea on such nights as these. Their spirits might possibly return;and she did not feel assured against the visit of the dead by thepresence of the poor old woman, who was almost as one of them herself.
Suddenly she shivered from head to foot, as she heard a thin, crackedvoice, as if stifled9 under the earth, proceed from the chimney corner.
In a chirping10 tone, which chilled her very soul, the voice sang:
"Pour la peche d'Islande, mon mari vient de partir,Il m'a laissee sans le sou,Mais--trala, trala la lou!"Then she was seized with that peculiar11 terror that one has of madpeople.
The rain fell with an unceasing, fountain-like gush12, and streamed downthe walls outside. There were oozings of water from the old moss-grownroof, which continued dropping on the self-same spots with amonotonous sad splash. They even soaked through into the floor inside,which was of hardened earth studded with pebbles13 and shells.
Dampness was felt on all sides, wrapping them up in its chill masses;an uneven14, buffeting15 dampness, misty16 and dark, and seeming to isolatethe scattered17 huts of Ploubazlanec still more.
But the Sunday evenings were the saddest of all, because of therelative gaiety in other homes on that day, for there are joyfulevenings even among those forgotten hamlets of the coast; here andthere, from some closed-up hut, beaten about by the inky rains,ponderous songs issued. Within, tables were spread for drinkers;sailors sat before the smoking fire, the old ones drinking brandy andthe young ones flirting18 with the girls; all more or less intoxicatedand singing to deaden thought. Close to them, the great sea, theirtomb on the morrow, sang also, filling the vacant night with itsimmense profound voice.
On some Sundays, parties of young fellows who came out of the tavernsor back from Paimpol, passed along the road, near the door of theMoans; they were such as lived at the land's end of Pors-Even way.
They passed very late, caring little for the cold and wet, accustomedas they were to frost and tempests. Gaud lent her ear to the medley19 oftheir songs and shouts--soon lost in the uproar20 of the squalls or thebreakers--trying to distinguish Yann's voice, and then feelingstrangely perplexed21 if she thought she had heard it.
It really was too unkind of Yann not to have returned to see themagain, and to lead so gay a life so soon after the death of Sylvestre;all this was unlike him. No, she really could not understand him now,but in spite of all she could not forget him or believe him to bewithout heart.
The fact was that since his return he had been leading a mostdissipated life indeed. Three or four times, on the Ploubazlanec road,she had seen him coming towards her, but she was always quick enoughto shun22 him; and he, too, in those cases, took the opposite directionover the heath. As if by mutual23 understanding, now, they fled fromeach other.
1 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 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 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 lucid | |
adj.明白易懂的,清晰的,头脑清楚的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 slumbered | |
微睡,睡眠(slumber的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 derisive | |
adj.嘲弄的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 jaw | |
n.颚,颌,说教,流言蜚语;v.喋喋不休,教训 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 apron | |
n.围裙;工作裙 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 stifled | |
(使)窒息, (使)窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 ); 镇压,遏制; 堵 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 chirping | |
鸟叫,虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 gush | |
v.喷,涌;滔滔不绝(说话);n.喷,涌流;迸发 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 pebbles | |
[复数]鹅卵石; 沙砾; 卵石,小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 uneven | |
adj.不平坦的,不规则的,不均匀的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 buffeting | |
振动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 misty | |
adj.雾蒙蒙的,有雾的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 flirting | |
v.调情,打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 medley | |
n.混合 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 perplexed | |
adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 shun | |
vt.避开,回避,避免 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |