Averse1, as Dido did with gesture stern
From her false friend’s approach in Hades turn,
Wave us away, and keep thy solitude2.
—Matthew Arnold, “The Scholar-Gipsy” (1853)
Silence.
They lay as if paralyzed by what they had done. Congealed3 in sin, frozen with delight. Charles—no gentle postcoital sadness for him, but an immediate4 and universal horror—was like a city struck out of a quiet sky by an atom bomb. All lay razed5; all principle, all future, all faith, all honorable intent. Yet he survived, he lay in the sweetest possession of his life, the last man alive, infinitely6 isolated7 . . . but already the radioactivity of guilt8 crept, crept through his nerves and veins9. In the distant shadows Ernestina stood and stared mournfully at him. Mr. Freeman struck him across the face ... how stone they were, rightly implacable, immovably waiting.
He shifted a little to relieve Sarah of his weight, then turned on his back so that she could lie against him, her head on his shoulder. He stared up at the ceiling. What a mess, what an inutterable mess!
And he held her a little closer. Her hand reached timidly and embraced his. The rain stopped. Heavy footsteps, slow, measured, passed somewhere beneath the window. A police officer, perhaps. The Law.
Charles said, “I am worse than Varguennes.” Her only answer was to press his hand, as if to deny and hush10 him. But he was a man.
“What is to become of us?”
“I cannot think beyond this hour.”
Again he pressed her shoulders, kissed her forehead; then stared again at the ceiling. She was so young now, so over-whelmed.
“I must break my engagement.”
“I ask nothing of you. I cannot. I am to blame.”
“You warned me, you warned me. I am wholly to blame. I knew when I came here ... I chose to be blind. I put all my obligations behind me.”
She murmured, “I wished it so.” She said it again, sadly. “I wished it so.”
For a while he stroked her hair. It fell over her shoulder, her face, veiling her.
“Sarah ... it is the sweetest name.”
She did not answer. A minute passed, his hand smoothing her hair, as if she were a child. But his mind was elsewhere. As if she sensed it, she at last spoke11.
“I know you cannot marry me.”
“I must. I wish to. I could never look myself in the face again if I did not.”
“I have been wicked. I have long imagined such a day as this. I am not fit to be your wife.”
“My dearest—“
“Your position in the world, your friends, your . . . and she—I know she must love you. How should I not know what she feels?”
“But I no longer love her!”
She let his vehemence12 drain into the silence.
“She is worthy13 of you. I am not.”
At last he began to take her at her word. He made her turn her head and they looked, in the dim outside light, into each other’s penumbral14 eyes. His were full of a kind of horror; and hers were calm, faintly smiling.
“You cannot mean I should go away—as if nothing had happened between us?”
She said nothing; yet in her eyes he read her meaning. He raised himself on one elbow.
“You cannot forgive me so much. Or ask so little.”
She sank her head against the pillow, her eyes on some dark future. “Why not, if I love you?”
He strained her to him. The thought of such sacrifice made his eyes smart with tears. The injustice15 Grogan and he had done her! She was a nobler being than either of them.
Charles was flooded with contempt for his sex: their triviality, their credulity, their selfishness. But he was of that sex, and there came to him some of its old devious16 cowardice17: Could not this perhaps be no more than his last fling, the sowing of the last wild oats? But he no sooner thought that than he felt like a murderer acquitted18 on some technical flaw in the prosecution19 case. He might stand a free man outside the court; but eternally guilty in his heart.
“I am infinitely strange to myself.”
“I have felt that too. It is because we have sinned. And we cannot believe we have sinned.” She spoke as if she was staring into an endless night. “All I wish for is your hap-piness. Now I know there was truly a day upon which you loved me, I can bear ... I can bear any thought ... except that you should die.”
He raised himself again then, and looked down at her. She had still a faint smile in her eyes, a deep knowing—a spiritu-al or psychological answer to his physical knowing of her. He had never felt so close, so one with a woman. He bent20 and kissed her, and out of a much purer love than that which began to reannounce itself, at the passionate21 contact of her lips, in his loins. Charles was like many Victorian men. He could not really believe that any woman of refined sensibili-ties could enjoy being a receptacle for male lust22. He had already abused her love for him intolerably; it must not happen again. And the time—he could not stay longer! He sat up.
“The person downstairs . . . and my man is waiting for me at my hotel. I beg you to give me a day or two’s grace. I cannot think what to do now.”
Her eyes were closed. She said, “I am not worthy of you.”
He stared at her a moment, then got off the bed and went into the other room.
And there! A thunderbolt struck him.
In looking down as he dressed he perceived a red stain on the front tails of his shirt. For a moment he thought he must have cut himself; but he had felt no pain. He furtively23 examined himself. Then he gripped the top of the armchair, staring back at the bedroom door—for he had suddenly realized what a more experienced, or less feverish24, lover would have suspected much sooner.
There was a movement in the room behind him. His head whirling, stunned26, yet now in a desperate haste, he pulled on his clothes. There was the sound of water being poured into a basin, a chink of china as a soapdish scraped. She had not given herself to Varguennes. She had lied. All her conduct, all her motives27 in Lyme Regis had been based on a lie. But for what purpose. Why? Why? Why?
To put him totally in her power!
And all those loathsome29 succubi of the male mind, their fat fears of a great feminine conspiracy30 to suck the virility31 from their veins, to prey32 upon their idealism, melt them into wax and mold them to their evil fancies . . . these, and a surging back to credibility of the hideous33 evidence adduced in the La Ronciere appeal, filled Charles’s mind with an apoc-alyptic horror.
The discreet34 sounds of washing ceased. There were various small rustlings—he supposed she was getting into the bed. Dressed, he stood staring at the fire. She was mad, evil, enlacing him in the strangest of nets ... but why?
There was a sound. He turned, his thoughts only too evident on his face. She stood in the doorway35, now in her old indigo36 dress, her hair still loose, yet with something of that old defiance37: he remembered for an instant that time he had first come upon her, when she had stood on the ledge38 over the sea and stared up at him. She must have seen that he had discovered the truth; and once more she forestalled39, castrated the accusation40 in his mind.
She repeated her previous words.
“I am not worthy of you.”
And now, he believed her. He whispered, “Varguennes?”
“When I went to where I told in Weymouth ... I was still some way from the door ... I saw him come out. With a woman. The kind of woman one cannot mistake.” She avoided his fierce eyes. “I drew into a doorway. When they had gone, I walked away.”
“But why did you tell—“
She moved abruptly41 to the window; and he was silenced. She had no limp. There was no strained ankle. She glanced at his freshly accusing look, then turned her back.
“Yes. I have deceived you. But I shall not trouble you again.”
“But what have I... why should you ...”
She faced him. It had begun to rain heavily again. Her eyes were unflinching, her old defiance returned; and yet now it lay behind something gentler, a reminder43 to him that he had just possessed44 her. The old distance, but a softer dis-tance.
“You have given me the consolation45 of believing that in another world, another age, another life, I might have been your wife. You have given me the strength to go on living ... in the here and now.” Less than ten feet lay between them; and yet it seemed like ten miles. “There is one thing in which I have not deceived you. I loved you ... I think from the moment I saw you. In that, you were never deceived. What duped you was my loneliness. A resentment46, an envy, I don’t know. I don’t know.” She turned again to the window and the rain. “Do not ask me to explain what I have done. I cannot explain it. It is not to be explained.”
Charles stared in the fraught47 silence at her back. As he had so shortly before felt swept towards her, now he felt swept away—and in both cases, she was to blame. “I cannot accept that. It must be explained.” But she shook her head. “Please go now. I pray for your happiness. I shall never disturb it again.”
He did not move. After a moment or two she looked round at him, and evidently read, as she had once before, his secret thought. Her expression was calm, almost fatalistic.
“It is as I told you before. I am far stronger than any man may easily imagine. My life will end when nature ends it.”
He bore the sight of her a few seconds more, then turned towards his hat and stick.
“This is my reward. To succor48 you. To risk a great deal to ... and now to know I was no more than the dupe of your imaginings.”
“Today I have thought of my own happiness. If we were to meet again I could think only of yours. There can be no happiness for you with me. You cannot marry me, Mr. Smithson.”
That resumption of formality cut deep. He threw her a hurt look; but she had her back to him, as if in anticipation49 of it. He took a step towards her.
“How can you address me thus?” She said nothing. “All I ask is to be allowed to understand—“ “I beseech50 you. Leave!”
She had turned on him. They looked for a moment like two mad people. Charles seemed about to speak, to spring forward, to explode; but then without warning he spun51 on his heel and left the room.
收听单词发音 |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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congealed
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| v.使凝结，冻结( congeal的过去式和过去分词 )；（指血）凝结 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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razed
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| v.彻底摧毁，将…夷为平地( raze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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8
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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9
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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10
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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11
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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12
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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13
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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14
penumbral
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| adj.日月半影的 | |
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15
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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16
devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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17
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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18
acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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19
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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20
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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21
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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23
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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24
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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25
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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26
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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27
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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28
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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29
loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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30
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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31
virility
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| n.雄劲，丈夫气 | |
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32
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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33
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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34
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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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
indigo
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| n.靛青，靛蓝 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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forestalled
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| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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44
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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45
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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47
fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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48
succor
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| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
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49
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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50
beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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51
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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