The weather was now inclement1; cold winds blew, driving showers of sleet2 and rain assailed3 him, making the progress of the vagabond Peter far from pleasant.
Bundle on back, his hands deep in the pockets of a rough frieze5 overcoat he had purchased some three months previously6, he tramped along the road, Democritus at his heels. It might well be wondered why Peter did not seek some lodging7 during these inclement months, and in answer there is nothing to say beyond the fact that a certain odd strain in him led him to continue his present mode of living. He preferred inclemency8 of weather, entire isolation9, to life under a roof, with the chance of meeting his fellow-men. Perhaps it was strange, but after all had he not already spent more than two years on the roads, so may not the love of the open have taken possession of him? At all events it is not what he might have done, but what he actually did, with which this history has to deal.
Somewhere up on the top of the Cloud, with its back to a small wood of pines and with a strip of moorland and then the road in front of it, stands a small deserted10 hut. It is no more than a hovel of one tiny room, and perhaps at one time it was used as a shepherd’s shelter.
It was drawing on to the wintry dusk when Peter saw it in the gloom, lying to the left of him from the road. He crossed the strip of moorland and went towards it. He found it, as he had fancied he might, entirely11 empty. There was a hole in the roof through which the rain was driving and the broken door rattled12 on its hinges. It was very different from a cottage he had discovered some months previously, but it was at all events some kind of shelter, and the cold without was bitter.
“We’ll take possession,” said Peter to Democritus. [Pg 264]“It cannot be styled a princely habitation—in fact, it’s uncommonly13 wretched. But I fancy it will be more desirable than the road to-night.”
He unfastened his bundle and set it on the earth floor. Outside the wind howled in fury; mist, rain, and gathering14 dusk blotted15 out the landscape beyond the road.
He unpacked18 his bundle. There was half a loaf of bread, a tin of sardines19, a bottle of water, a small flask20 of whisky, and a bone with some meat on it for Democritus.
They finished their meal together, and then Peter still sat with his back to the wall, as far away from the broken door as possible, watching the rain that fell through the hole in the roof. For nearly the first time since he had begun his wanderings he was physically21 wretched. Fate had for a short time lifted his mental loneliness from him, only to plunge22 him deeper into it. Mental loneliness, however, he had done his best to accept with what philosophy he might, but now physical loneliness, entire discomfort23, and bodily [Pg 265]depression were weighing hard upon him. He felt he had lost the grit24 to fight further. A quixotic action of long ago suddenly presented itself to him as an entirely idiotic25 proceeding26 on his part. Why on earth had he ruined his own life, cut himself off from communion with his fellow-men, for a mere27 romantic notion?
“I’m beaten,” said Peter to himself, “done! I fancied I was doing a fine thing. I thought myself, no doubt, a bit of a hero; and now I’m a coward, a turncoat, who’d give a very great deal to undo28 the past.”
He was wretched, entirely wretched, and even the soft warm tongue of Democritus against his hand was of no smallest comfort to him.
He looked at the bundle on the ground beside him. It contained his manuscript, fair, complete but for the title and signature and the dedication29 should he choose to give it one. It brought him no atom of pleasure; it appeared to him worthless, a thing of false sentiment, talking of high courage, of nobility of thought, which in reality vanished like a pricked30 air-bubble the moment the finger of fact was laid upon it.
How in the name of fortune had he kept his spirits buoyed31 up all these years? And why in Heaven’s name had the buoyancy suddenly deserted him? Peter turned about in his mind for a solution of the problem. Presently he found it. It came with something like a shock. He was older, that was the reason. Close on six years had rolled over his head since the day he had surrendered all for an extravagant32 notion. It is the young, Peter reflected sagely33, who take their all and throw it with both hands on the altar of sacrifice. They do not realize—how should they in their youthful optimism?—what they are giving up. They have never known monotony, the grey years that roll by with nothing in heaven or earth to break their dulness.
“Something will happen to make up to us,” they cry. But—so Peter reflected from the wisdom of his present vast age (he was two-and-thirty be it stated)—nothing does happen. We burn our all heroically, and then are surprised to find that there is no life in the grey ashes left to us. His optimism had gone, vanished, and nothing but a deep pessimism34 remained to him.
“It’s no use, Democritus,” he said, as with tongue and wagging tail the small creature tried to cheer this terrible mood that had fallen upon his master, “it’s no use. I’ve made a mull of things, and perhaps it’s just as well to know when I am beaten. And yet if——”
Unpleasant little word, which so often prefaces all the joys that might have been and are not.
Bear with Peter in his present mood. The marvel35 is it had never fallen upon him before, and that it had not must be accounted for by the fact that youth, health, and what had appeared as indomitable good spirits were all in his favour.
It is useless, however, to dwell on his misery36. Picture him, if you will, as wretched as man well could be. He was, after all, only human, and up till now he had fought his fight bravely.
He slept little throughout the night. About midnight the wind dropped suddenly, and by the light of a candle he saw snowflakes falling through the hole in the roof. He was trying to console himself with Conard’s life of Beethoven, which he had purchased; but with the remembrance of the woman who had recommended him to read it before his mind, the consolation38 was not overgreat.
Towards morning he fell into a fitful slumber39 which lasted till dawn. Then he awakened40, roused himself, yawned and stretched. The memory of his mood of the previous night recurred41 to his mind. He felt suddenly ashamed, though there had been none but his own soul and Democritus to witness it. Courage, high-handed, sprang again within him. He flung last night’s mood behind him, and brave-eyed faced the future. And with what is to follow it is good to think that he did so.
He got up, and went to the cottage door.
The earth lay snow-covered and very still. Since midnight the air had been thick with feathery flakes37 falling gently, silently. Just before dawn they had ceased, and now the world lay under the soft mantle42. White and spectre-like the trees reared their branches against the cold grey sky. Only here and there the berries of the holly43 and the rowan-tree gleamed scarlet44 against the snow. A little stream that in summer made faint music as it wended its way to the right of the hut, finally losing itself in the shadow of the pinewood, was now frost-bound and silent. Over everything lay an intense stillness, an unearthly [Pg 269]purity. The ground before the hut was covered with curious little star-like lines imprinted45 in the snow, the impress of the feet of feathered wayfarers46 seeking for food which was not to be found.
And then through the silent frosty air came clear sounds—the barking of a sheepdog, the clarion47 note of a cock in an outlying farmyard, and, very distant, the sound of a church clock chiming the hour.
The eastern sky began to flush with colour. An amber48 light stole upward through the grey, turning to rose and then to deeper crimson49. The white earth pulsated50, breathed, awakened. Softly it reflected the crimson of the sky, and then slowly, majestically51, the sun, a glowing ball of fire, came up over the horizon.
Peter stood gazing at the fairy magic of the scene. It was a pure transformation52 after the bleak53 dreariness54 of the previous night.
And then suddenly he saw a man coming along the road—a man tall, broad-shouldered, of a build akin4 to his own. A thick coat covered him, its fur collar well pulled up to his ears; a cloth cap was on his head.
“Hullo,” said Peter to himself, “he’s early a-foot!”
The man paused, looked in the direction of the hut, then turned and tramped quickly across the snow towards him. As he came nearer Peter saw a pleasant freckled55 face, brown eyes like a dog’s, a firm short chin, and a small reddish moustache.
“Is your name, by good luck, Peter Carden?”
“It is,” said Peter, surprised, wondering.
“Thank Heaven!” murmured he of the freckles57 piously58. “I’ve found you at last! Come along back to the hotel with me and we’ll talk as we go. I’m famishing for breakfast.”
点击收听单词发音
1 inclement | |
adj.严酷的,严厉的,恶劣的 | |
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2 sleet | |
n.雨雪;v.下雨雪,下冰雹 | |
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3 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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4 akin | |
adj.同族的,类似的 | |
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5 frieze | |
n.(墙上的)横饰带,雕带 | |
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6 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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7 lodging | |
n.寄宿,住所;(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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8 inclemency | |
n.险恶,严酷 | |
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9 isolation | |
n.隔离,孤立,分解,分离 | |
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10 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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11 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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12 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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13 uncommonly | |
adv. 稀罕(极,非常) | |
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14 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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15 blotted | |
涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 ); (用吸墨纸)吸干 | |
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16 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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17 remarkably | |
ad.不同寻常地,相当地 | |
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18 unpacked | |
v.从(包裹等)中取出(所装的东西),打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 );拆包;解除…的负担;吐露(心事等) | |
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19 sardines | |
n. 沙丁鱼 | |
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20 flask | |
n.瓶,火药筒,砂箱 | |
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21 physically | |
adj.物质上,体格上,身体上,按自然规律 | |
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22 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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23 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
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24 grit | |
n.沙粒,决心,勇气;v.下定决心,咬紧牙关 | |
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25 idiotic | |
adj.白痴的 | |
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26 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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27 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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28 undo | |
vt.解开,松开;取消,撤销 | |
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29 dedication | |
n.奉献,献身,致力,题献,献辞 | |
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30 pricked | |
刺,扎,戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 ); 刺伤; 刺痛; 使剧痛 | |
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31 buoyed | |
v.使浮起( buoy的过去式和过去分词 );支持;为…设浮标;振奋…的精神 | |
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32 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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33 sagely | |
adv. 贤能地,贤明地 | |
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34 pessimism | |
n.悲观者,悲观主义者,厌世者 | |
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35 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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36 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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37 flakes | |
小薄片( flake的名词复数 ); (尤指)碎片; 雪花; 古怪的人 | |
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38 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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39 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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40 awakened | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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41 recurred | |
再发生,复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 ); 治愈 | |
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42 mantle | |
n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;v.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
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43 holly | |
n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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44 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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45 imprinted | |
v.盖印(imprint的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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46 wayfarers | |
n.旅人,(尤指)徒步旅行者( wayfarer的名词复数 ) | |
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47 clarion | |
n.尖音小号声;尖音小号 | |
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48 amber | |
n.琥珀;琥珀色;adj.琥珀制的 | |
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49 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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50 pulsated | |
v.有节奏地舒张及收缩( pulsate的过去式和过去分词 );跳动;脉动;受(激情)震动 | |
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51 majestically | |
雄伟地; 庄重地; 威严地; 崇高地 | |
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52 transformation | |
n.变化;改造;转变 | |
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53 bleak | |
adj.(天气)阴冷的;凄凉的;暗淡的 | |
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54 dreariness | |
沉寂,可怕,凄凉 | |
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55 freckled | |
adj.雀斑;斑点;晒斑;(使)生雀斑v.雀斑,斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56 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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57 freckles | |
n.雀斑,斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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58 piously | |
adv.虔诚地 | |
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