A robin8 twittered on the thorn hedge as she left the cell and, crossing the grass, went out by the wicket gate. The land was white with hoar frost, each twig9 and blade beautiful to behold10, and the arch of the east red with an angry dawn. The hills looked big and blue, and very sombre, and in the north the sky had an opaqueness11 as of coming snow.
The brittle12 silence of a frosty morning seemed unbroken as yet, and Denise, after looking half fearfully about her, came out from the shadow of the thorn hedge, and walked quickly in the direction of the road. She would be away and over the Abbey bounds before anyone knew in the town that she had gone. Reaching the road, she climbed down the path into it, for the road ran in a hollow there. A bramble had caught the latchet of her shoe and pulled it loose, and Denise bent14 down to refasten it, putting the cloth with the food on the bank beside her.
Now Dom Silvius’s treachery had betrayed her to the people, and Denise, as she fastened her shoe-latchet, was startled by a shrill15, gaggling laugh that seemed to rise out of the ground close to her. The banks on either side of the road were covered with furze bushes, and a number of these bushes were suddenly endowed with the miraculous17 power of movement. They rose up from where they had grown, and came jigging18 down the steep banks into the road.
Moreover these same furze bushes burst into loud laughter, and began to crow with exultation19.
“A miracle, a miracle!”
“St. Denise has worked a wonder, at last!”
Denise stood still at the foot of the bank, and the furze bushes came jigging round her like mummers in a mask. Flapping skirts and shuffling21 feet gave a human undercurrent to the green swirl22 of the furze. Now and again she saw a red, triumphant23 face, or a pair of brown arms holding a bough24, while the frolic went on with giggles25 and little screams of laughter. Then, at a given shout from one of them, these women of the winter dawn flung their furze boughs26 upon Denise, as the Sabines threw their shields upon Tarpeia.
The thorns were as nothing compared with that circle of coarse and jeering27 faces that stood revealed. Old hags with white hair, skinny arms, and flat bosoms29; women in their prime, rough and buxom30, with hard features and loud mouths; young girls, whose tongues were pert and insolent31. Bridget, the smith’s wife, led this wolf pack, like a hungry and red-eyed dam.
Denise’s face was bleeding, but she did not flinch33 now that her pride had been driven against the pricks34. She looked round at the women, holding her head high, although they had beaten her across the face. And for the moment the women hung back from her as she pushed the furze boughs aside, and made as though to pass on without answering a word.
Bridget, the smith’s wife, stood in her path. She flung up her head and laughed like a great raw-boned mare35, and an echo came down from Mountjoye Hill like the answering neigh of a horse. On the ridge32 above, where the dawn light shone, were crowded the men who had come out to see their women bait Denise.
Bridget began the savage36 game with a word that brought the blood to Denise’s face. The women shrieked37 with delight. Taunts38 struck her on every side as they crowded close on her, gloating, screaming, their mouths full of cursing and derision. They began to shake their fists, and to stretch their claws towards her, and the smell of their bodies was in her nostrils39.
“She would work miracles, this jade41, this wanton! Where is my boy, you minion42? Answer me that, I say!”
“Where is your man, eh?”
“We know him, we know him! Let him show his face here!”
“Look at her, the pretty jade!”
“Spoil her beauty. Strip her naked.”
“Out with the harlot. Let her freeze.”
Warts43, Sterility44, and fifty more were howling about her, drunk with the very noise they made. For a moment Denise stood white-faced in the midst of them. Then she disappeared in a swirl of coarse and violent movement, like a deer that is dragged down and smothered46 beneath the brown bodies of the wolves.
The road that morning was a martyr’s way as the redness of the dawn waned47 and the sky became cold and grey. Mouths spat upon her, hands smote48 her, and clutched at her clothes. Buffeted49 at every step, jostled, and torn, she was brought to the boundary of the Abbey leuga, and driven out thence into the world. The women even caught up stones and pelted50 her when they had let her go, screaming foul51 words, and laughing in loud derision.
Denise was as dazed and as exhausted52 as though she had been wrecked53, and washed ashore54 half dead by some lucky wave. Her face was bruised55 and bleeding, her clothes in tatters, her tunic torn open so that her bosom28 showed. She drew her ragged45 clothes about her, and went unsteadily down the road, with the cries of the women still following her as she went. Denise’s pride made a last brave spreading of its wings. It carried her beyond the sound of those voices, though her feet dragged, and her knees gave under her, and a kind of blindness filled her brain.
Perhaps she struggled on for a mile or more before she turned aside, and lay down under some hazels beside the road. And as she lay there, dull-eyed, grey-faced, and still half dazed, the power to think came back like the sense of reviving pain. Horror of herself and of the world took hold of her by the throat. It was as though those women had spat upon her soul, and made her revolt from herself as from something unclean. Those mocking faces symbolised the mercies of her sister women. All those who knew the truth would scoff56, and draw away their skirts. She was an outcast, a thing whose name might broider a lewd57 tale.
Denise was no ignorant child, but a grown woman, yet she was weak and in pain, and her very weakness made her anguish58 the more poignant59. She lay there a long while under the hazels, not noticing the cold, nor the sodden60 soil, for her heart seemed colder than the frost. Life held its helpless, upturned palms to the unknown. What use was there in living? God had deserted61 her, and had suffered her innocence62 to be put to shame. She was too weary, too miserable63 even for bitterness or for rebellion. Inert64 despair had her, body and soul.
Presently a boy came along the road towards Battle, driving an ass4 laden65 with paniers full of bread. Close to the spot where Denise lay under the hazels, the ass was taken with the sulks, and stood obstinately66 still. The boy tugged67 at the bridle68, shouted, thwacked the beast with his stick, but make her budge69 he could not. Denise sat up and watched him, this piece of byplay thrusting a wedge between her and the apathy70 of despair.
The boy was a sturdy youngster, with brown face, brown smock, and brown legs splashed with mud. He rubbed his nose with a brown hand, and catching71 sight of Denise, took her to be a beggar, and perhaps a bit of a witch.
“Hi, there,” he shouted, “give over frightening the beast.”
“It is none of my doing,” she said, surprised somehow at the sound of her own voice.
“She stopped here, none of your tricks, old lady,” said the boy.
Denise put back her hood, and the youngster stared.
“Lord,” said he, “you have been fighting, and you are not old, neither!”
His curiosity was curtailed72 by the curiosity of the ass, who took to kicking, sending sundry73 loaves rolling on the road.
“Hi, there, come and help.”
Denise rose up, and went towards the struggling pair. She took the bridle from the boy, and began to pull the donkey’s ears, to rub her poll, and talk to her as though she were a refractory74 child. The beast grew suddenly docile75, and the bread was saved.
Denise helped the boy to pick up the loaves. He looked hard at her when they had refilled the paniers, and then offered one of the loaves to Denise.
“Take it,” he said almost roughly, yet with the brusqueness of a boy’s good-will.
“It will be missed.”
The boy gave a determined76 shake of the head.
“Father’s bread. The jade served him the same trick last week, kicked the loaves on to a dung heap. He can’t blame me.”
He thrust the loaf into Denise’s hand, gave her a friendly grin, and cut the ass viciously across the hind-quarters with his stick. The response on the beast’s part was a wild and hypocritical amble13.
This simple adventure on the road heartened Denise in very wonderful fashion, even as the voice of a child may interpose between a man and murder. It was like a mouthful of wine in the mouth of one ready to faint upon a journey. Denise watched the boy disappear, hardly thinking that she had been saved from despair by the obstinacy77 of an ass. She had the loaf in her hand and the boy’s smile in remembrance, and the mocking voices of the morning seemed less shamefully78 persistent79.
Denise broke and ate some of the bread, and finding a ditch near with a film of ice covering it, she broke the ice with her shoe, and soaking one corner of her tunic in the water, she washed the blood from her mouth and face. It was then that she found the money that Abbot Reginald had given her still knotted up in her clothes. And these two things, the bread and the money, comforted her with the thought that she was not utterly80 forgotten of God. Both blessings81 had come to her by chance, but when a soul is in the deeps it catches the straws that float to it, and believes them Heaven-sent.
Despite her wounds and her bruisings Denise walked five miles before noon. The passion to escape from familiar faces and to sink into the outer world, had revived in her. She skirted Robertsbridge and its Abbey, crossing the Rother stream by a footbridge that she found. On the hill beyond she met a pedlar travelling with his pack, and taking out a piece of money bought a rough brown smock from him, a needle and some thread. About noon she found some dry litter under the shelter of a bank of furze. She put on her brown smock, and mended her cloak, and then despite the January cold, such an utter weariness came upon her that she fell asleep.
When Denise awoke it was with a rush of misery82 into the mind, a misery so utter that she wished herself asleep again, even sleeping the sleep of death. She was so stiff with the cold and her rough handling that it hurt her to move, and the infinite forlornness of her waking made her shudder83. Something soft touched her face, like the drifting petal84 of apple blossom out of the blue. A wind had risen and was whistling through the furze bushes, and buffeting85 them to and fro. The sky had grown very sullen86. Snow was beginning to fall.
Denise dragged herself up and drew her cloak closer about her. She must find shelter for the night somewhere, unless she wished to tempt87 death in the snow. Yet she had gone but a short way along the road when a sudden spasm88 of pain seized her, pain such as she had never felt before.
Denise stood still, clenching89 her hands, her eyes full of a questioning dread90. The spasm passed, and she went on again slowly, the flakes91 of snow drifting about her, the sky and the landscape a mournful blur92. She had walked no more than a furlong when the same pain seized her, making her catch her breath and stand quivering till the spasm had passed. Nor was it the pain alone that filled her with a sense of infinite helplessness and dread. The birth of a new and terrible consciousness seemed to grip and paralyse her heart. She knew by instinct that which was upon her, a state that called up a new world of shame and tenderness and fear.
Denise went on again, a woman laden with the simple and primitive93 destiny of a woman. It so happened that she came to a wood beside the road, and at the edge of the wood under the bare branches of the trees she saw a lodge94 built of faggots, and roofed with furze and heather. The place seemed God-sent in her necessity, and her anguish of soul and body. Denise found it empty, save for a mass of dry bracken piled behind some faggots in one corner of the lodge. The place had a rough door built of boughs. Denise closed it, and hid herself in the far corner of the lodge, sinking deep into the bed of bracken. The pangs95 were upon her, and all the dolour and the foreboding that take hold of a woman’s heart.
It was bitter cold that night, and the snow came driving from the north, a ghost mist that wrapped the world in a garment of mystery. The wind roared in the trees whose bare boughs clapped together, creaking and chafing96 amid the roaring of the storm. It was a night when sheep would die of the cold, or be smothered in the snow drifts banked against the hedges.
The sky began to clear about dawn, patches of blue showing between ragged masses of grey cloud. The sun shone out fitfully at first, flashing upon a white world, upon a world of brilliant snow schemes and glittering arabesques97, with the wood’s sweeps of black shadow across a waste of white.
The wind had dropped, and there was the silence of snow everywhere, not a voice, not a sound, save the occasional creaking of a rotten bough and the swish of its falling snow. The sun climbed higher, and the whiteness of the world became a pale and blinding glare.
Now, the silence of the wilderness98 was broken that morning by a slow and steady sound that grew on the still air. It was the muffled99 beat of hoofs100 upon the snow of the road that ran southwards along the ridge of the hill. Presently the snorting of the horse, jingle101 of metal and the creaking of leather were added to the plodding102 of the hoofs. A man’s voice rang out suddenly into a burst of song. The white world was glorious in the sunshine, marble and lapis lazuli, with flashes here and there of gold.
The muffled beat of hoofs ceased by the wood where stood the lodge built of faggots. The snow was virgin about it, and the man turned his horse towards the wood, swung out of the saddle, and began kicking the snow aside as though to give the beast a chance of cropping the grass. Taking wine and meat from a saddlebag, he brushed the snow from a log that lay outside the lodge, and sat down to make a meal.
And as he sat there in the sun he talked to his horse, and gave the beast some of the bread from his own breakfast. The horse nosed against him like a dog, its breath steaming up into the frosty air, its eyes the colour of sapphires103 seen against the snow. And there were no sounds save the man’s voice, the breathing of his horse, and the dripping from the boughs as the snow thawed104 in the sun.
In due course the man remounted, and rode off down the road with the morning sunlight upon his face. Cowering105 on the bracken in the lodge Denise lay dazed, and weary, hands and feet numb16 with the cold. She had prayed to God that the man might not enter the place, and find her there on her bed of bracken. He had been so near to her that she had been able to hear the sound of his breathing, and even the breaking of the crust of the bread.
Beside her on the bracken lay a white thing that neither moved nor uttered a cry. Denise lay and stared at it, half with dread and mute wonder, half with a passion of primeval tenderness that was too deep for tears. And as Aymery rode away from her into the morning, she kept her vigil beside that innocent thing that did not whimper and did not move. The snow and the secret silence thereof seemed part of her life that morning, and the eyes of the world were full of a questioning mist of tears.
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收听单词发音
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1
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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2
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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7
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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9
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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10
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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opaqueness
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| [化] 不透明性，不透明度 | |
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12
brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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amble
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| vi.缓行，漫步 | |
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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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15
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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17
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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18
jigging
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| n.跳汰选，簸选v.（使）上下急动( jig的现在分词 ) | |
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19
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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20
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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21
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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22
swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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23
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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24
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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25
giggles
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| n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 )；傻笑；玩笑；the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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26
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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27
jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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28
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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29
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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30
buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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pricks
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| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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37
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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39
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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40
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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41
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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42
minion
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| n.宠仆；宠爱之人 | |
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43
warts
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| n.疣( wart的名词复数 )；肉赘；树瘤；缺点 | |
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44
sterility
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| n.不生育，不结果，贫瘠，消毒，无菌 | |
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45
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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46
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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47
waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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48
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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49
buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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50
pelted
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| （连续地）投掷( pelt的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续抨击； 攻击； 剥去…的皮 | |
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51
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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52
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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53
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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54
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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55
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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56
scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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57
lewd
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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58
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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60
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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61
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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62
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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63
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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65
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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66
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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67
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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69
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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70
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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71
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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72
curtailed
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| v.截断，缩短( curtail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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74
refractory
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| adj.倔强的，难驾驭的 | |
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75
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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76
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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77
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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78
shamefully
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| 可耻地； 丢脸地； 不体面地； 羞耻地 | |
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79
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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80
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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81
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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82
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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83
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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84
petal
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| n.花瓣 | |
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85
buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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86
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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87
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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88
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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89
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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90
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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91
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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92
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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93
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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94
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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95
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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96
chafing
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| n.皮肤发炎v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的现在分词 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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97
arabesques
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| n.阿拉伯式花饰( arabesque的名词复数 )；错综图饰；阿拉伯图案；阿拉贝斯克芭蕾舞姿（独脚站立，手前伸，另一脚一手向后伸） | |
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98
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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99
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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100
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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101
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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102
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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103
sapphires
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| n.蓝宝石，钢玉宝石( sapphire的名词复数 )；蔚蓝色 | |
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104
thawed
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| 解冻 | |
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105
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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