At first, as her hands were thrust into that familiar and essentially4 unromantic element known in everyday parlance5 as dish water, Stella mused7 with another thoughtful sigh: “Here I am again...!” Yet in the very act of hurrying through all such drudgery8 to have it out of the way, she realized that when the housework was finished there would be absolutely nothing to do until it was time to prepare luncheon9. Her life seemed suddenly so packed with hours, so freighted with brooding silence.... “I must make a point of using all the dishes I can at every meal,” she laughed softly. The stillness, rendered poignant10 by the droning of wild bees and a dainty ambient rustle11 of fern, pressed against her heart.
This morning she was unusually thorough. Capable Maud, with memories of past shirking, would open her eyes indeed could she look in at this marvel12 of housewifery. The dishes out of the way, Stella turned quite happily to her sweeping13, singing a little as she worked. The broom had been one of Captain Utterbourne’s poetic14 foresights15....
Her task was broken in upon by a faint and very deferential16 tap. She opened the door and on the threshold beheld17 Tsuda, standing18 in a humble19 posture20, hat in hand, and murmuring: “Good morning.” He bowed low as he spoke21, and subtly shook his head a little, as though to emphasize his acute humility22.
[116]
She regarded him with a gleam of interested amusement. Tsuda’s face, as he slowly raised it to the girl in the doorway23, showed itself ancient, yet with strangely youthful eyes; an unusually long face, with a baffling, complex expression. His loosely woven straw hat with its band of bright blue ribbon, gave him a note of gaiety and youth. He looked subtle and cool and debonair24, despite his humility, as he stood outside gazing up into the face of the only white woman within rather a good many degrees of longitude25 and latitude26.
“Mr. King isn’t here,” she told him, her eyes still amused. There were times when Tsuda’s face looked just a little like the face of a horse—though she had caught flashes of darker qualities which left her, too, a trifle insecure. “I believe my husband rode over to look at some fields on the other side of the island.”
“Sss—I know,” Tsuda nodded rapidly. Then an expression of quaint27 solicitude28 came into his bright young-looking eyes, and he asked: “You find everything—gn—all right here?”
His mood this morning was par6 excellence29 the mood of a child, naïve and trusting and simple as sunshine; and a few moments later he was sitting cross-legged on the floor of Mrs. King’s “parlour,” giving her a round-eyed account of the manner in which he and all these dusky children of the northland had been brought down out of far wild Paromushir to take possession of an island nobody seemed to want.
“We come from the—gn—way up top of the Kurile Isles—very high—you have not been there?” And he gazed searchingly, as though he would glean30 from her face how much they had shared with her—the masters, King and Utterbourne.
“No,” said Stella, “I’ve never been there. I haven’t travelled a great deal—until now,” she added with a gay little laugh.
Tsuda hissed31 gently. “I want you to see how it was, please. We come many moons ago in a great whale that burn inside like a volcano!” His whole bearing was that of a child,[117] wide-eyed with the sheer wonder of miracles befallen. “Yes sir—a whale!”
Stella was plainly enthralled32. The rewards of her romantic patience and doll-like trust hadn’t been any too ample—“a woman’s fingers don’t belong in a man’s work, little lady.” King had displayed a laughing parsimony33; and though Captain Utterbourne, during the long voyage, must have emitted at least a hundred thousand words of pure narrative34, interspersed35 with little gems36 of psychology37 and sociology and ethics38, he hadn’t taken the trouble to give out more than the vaguest hints as to what lay before them in the throbbing39 mystery of that future always just ahead over the bow of the Star of Troy. Her curiosity about all this business of the island was keenly aroused, and she was glad to listen to the strange little Asiatic, who seemed indeed quite bursting with friendly communicativeness.
Tsuda blinked rapidly. “My people had got bad, very bad, about their altars. It was simply awful! No good to forget your altars—bad, very bad.” He shook his long head seriously. “Evil come then. There are ogres left—all written down in great Book of Shintō—the way of the gods....” His face seemed illuminated40 with almost a supernatural glow. “Very bad, very bad! They come down swoop41 in the night....” Tsuda nodded slowly and solemnly. “But the gods send us some one to the rescue. He look at you—gn—and you can’t look back....” Perhaps Utterbourne had never received a finer tribute.
Tsuda leaned toward the girl, swaying in a mystic rhythm as he talked, his voice high and a little tremulous; and as she watched him and listened to his wild tale, told always in that manner of open-eyed wonder, Stella vividly42 sensed the contrast between this new life of hers and the old. “Where am I?” she asked herself, laughing faintly, yet with a tiny shiver too, almost of swift fear.
“He bring us all down here,” Tsuda continued. “The whale is very dark, and give out long trail of black like the[118] volcano. He tell us we build altars and one day a new god—one day the White Kami will come....” Tsuda broke off abruptly43, and asked in a voice which seemed to have taken on a subtly darker and narrower quality: “You have not seen the temple?”
“No,” said Stella.
“Good—I’ll show you—gn. Done in the finest Shintō.... I have a brother, once; he is priest in the Shinshū mountains. I would be too, a priest, only—” Again he broke off, and for a moment his eyes showed a fierce gleam of reminiscent hate. But it passed, and he said very gently: “Will you come and see?”
“The temple?” she asked.
“Yes—to goddess Amaterasu”—he half chanted the name. “Mean the Heaven-shiner, goddess of the Sun—Shimmei, sometimes, Ten Shōkō Daijin, Daijingū—we say—gn—Amaterasu. You will come?”
“Is it far?” Stella asked him.
“No, no—not far.”
“Yes,” she hesitated. Her breathing was a trifle accelerated. It all seemed unbelievable....
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1 musing | |
n. 沉思,冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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2 moths | |
n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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3 fungus | |
n.真菌,真菌类植物 | |
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4 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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5 parlance | |
n.说法;语调 | |
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6 par | |
n.标准,票面价值,平均数量;adj.票面的,平常的,标准的 | |
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7 mused | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
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8 drudgery | |
n.苦工,重活,单调乏味的工作 | |
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9 luncheon | |
n.午宴,午餐,便宴 | |
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10 poignant | |
adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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11 rustle | |
v.沙沙作响;偷盗(牛、马等);n.沙沙声声 | |
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12 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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13 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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14 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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15 foresights | |
先见(foresight的复数形式) | |
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16 deferential | |
adj. 敬意的,恭敬的 | |
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17 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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18 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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19 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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20 posture | |
n.姿势,姿态,心态,态度;v.作出某种姿势 | |
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21 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 | |
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22 humility | |
n.谦逊,谦恭 | |
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23 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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24 debonair | |
adj.殷勤的,快乐的 | |
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25 longitude | |
n.经线,经度 | |
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26 latitude | |
n.纬度,行动或言论的自由(范围),(pl.)地区 | |
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27 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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28 solicitude | |
n.焦虑 | |
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29 excellence | |
n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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30 glean | |
v.收集(消息、资料、情报等) | |
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31 hissed | |
发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 ); 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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32 enthralled | |
迷住,吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 ); 使感到非常愉快 | |
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33 parsimony | |
n.过度节俭,吝啬 | |
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34 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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35 interspersed | |
adj.[医]散开的;点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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36 gems | |
growth; economy; management; and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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37 psychology | |
n.心理,心理学,心理状态 | |
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38 ethics | |
n.伦理学;伦理观,道德标准 | |
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39 throbbing | |
a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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40 illuminated | |
adj.被照明的;受启迪的 | |
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41 swoop | |
n.俯冲,攫取;v.抓取,突然袭击 | |
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42 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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43 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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