“They will all be drunk as swine,” she said, “and a drunken man is no bargain. Out with your knife, Black Cat, and run and cut some of that furze yonder. Some lazy soul has left faggots in that ditch.”
Marpasse made Denise sit down under the shelter of the bank, for the grey sister’s feet had hurt her through the last two miles. So Denise sat there in the dusk, lost in a kind of vacant wonder at life, and at herself, and at the strange way that things happened. She felt tired, even to stupidity, and the sounds that came up out of the town were not more audible than the roar of a distant mill.
Marpasse and Isoult made the fire, Isoult using the flint, steel and tinder they carried with them, Marpasse playing the part of bellows2. The fire proved sulky, perhaps because of Isoult’s temper, and her muttering of curses. Marpasse knelt and blew till her brown cheeks were like bladders. The flames seemed pleased by her good-natured, strenuous3 face, for they shot up, and began to lick the wood.
Marpasse sat back suddenly on her heels, her face very red, and shading her eyes with her hand, she looked out into the darkness.
“Poof, is it the blood in my ears, or do I hear something?”
Isoult was also on the alert, her eyes bright under a frowning forehead.
“Horses,” she said.
“What are they doing this time of the night?”
From somewhere came the dull thunder of many horses at the trot4. Nothing was distinguishable but the fires that had been lit here and there about the town, fires that shone like golden nails on the sable5 escutcheon of the night. Isoult, who was very quick of hearing, swore that more than a thousand horses must be moving yonder in the darkness.
“Curses, but it must be the rear-guard,” said Marpasse; “God send them clear of us, or we shall be over-crowded. The fire will save us from being trampled6 on.”
The thunder of hoofs7 came nearer, a sound that sent a vague shudder8 through the darkness as though something infinitely9 strong and infinitely savage10 were rushing on out of the gloom. The earth shook. A sense of movement grew in the outer darkness, a sense of movement that approached like a phosphorescent wave swinging in from a midnight sea. Then a trumpet11 screamed. There was a rattling12 and chafing13 like the noise made by the tackle of a great ship when she puts about in a high wind. A shrill14, faint voice from somewhere shouted an order. The belated rear-guard of the host, for such it was, halted within a furlong of the women’s fire.
Marpasse shook her fist at the dark mass.
“Fools, you should have been drunk down yonder in the town by now! We can do very well without you. And as likely as not you will thieve our fire.”
Isoult laughed.
“Some thieves might be welcome,” she said.
And Denise, who had listened to it all with tired apathy15, seemed to wake suddenly and to feel the cold, for she shivered and drew nearer to the fire.
Despite the newcomers, Isoult, Marpasse and Denise sat round the burning wood, breaking their bread, and listening to the shouts of the men, and the trampling16 and snorting of horses. It was pitch dark beyond the circle of light thrown by the fire, though torches began to go to and fro like great moths17 with flaming wings. Marpasse and Isoult both had their ears open. They were rough women in the midst of rough men, and their instincts were as fierce and keen as the instincts of wild things that hunt or are hunted at night.
Voices seemed to rise everywhere in the darkness. A waggon18 went creaking by, with the cracking of a whip, and the oaths of the driver. Mallets began to ring on the polls of stout19, ash pegs20 and Isoult pricked21 up her ears at the sound.
“They are pitching a tent yonder!”
“Some of the lords must be near,” Isoult ran on, “we may be in good company. The saints bring us luck.”
Her eyes met Denise’s, and there was a startled something in Denise’s glance that made Isoult flinch23, and then burst into spiteful laughter. Isoult had the wine flask24 in her hand, and she lifted it, and drank deep.
“Blood of mine, have we an unshorn lamb here?”
She stared at Denise impudently25 as though challenging her. Denise looked away.
Isoult’s face sharpened, the face of a little vixen ever ready to snap and bite.
“Lord, how proud we are! Coarse sluts, that is what we are, Marpasse.”
The big woman held up a brown hand.
“Keep your claws in, cat,” she said, “you were born quarrelling. Curse you, be quiet.”
And Isoult obeyed, having felt the weight of Marpasse’s fist.
It was not long before a couple of soldiers passed close to the fire, and seeing the three women, red, blue, and grey, they stopped, and began to talk banteringly to Marpasse and Isoult. The women returned the men better than they gave, and showed them plainly that they had no need of their company, for the fellows were rough boors26, and sweeter at a distance. Denise sat and shuddered27, huddling28 into herself with instinctive29 disgust, and understanding why Marpasse had a naked knife in her sleeve. The men slunk off, sending back jeers30 out of the darkness, for Marpasse had shown her knife.
“The sting of a wasp31 keeps such flies from buzzing too near,” she said; “we are great ladies on occasions, Isoult and I. We cherish our dignity for the sake of the gold.”
They went on with their meal, hearing movement everywhere about them in the darkness. Isoult’s eyes were fixed32 upon a fire about a hundred yards away, whose light seemed to play upon the rose-coloured canvas of a tent. Men were going to and fro there, and Isoult guessed that it was some great lord’s pavilion. As for Marpasse she ate, drank, and kept eyes and ears upon the alert.
Denise had nothing before her but the black half sphere of the night chequered with the yellow flutter of the fires. Isoult and Marpasse sat facing her and looking towards the town. Therefore they did not see what Denise saw, the tall figure of a man in war harness, unhelmeted, and wearing a blue surcoat blazoned33 over with golden suns. He came along the bank out of the darkness, and stood looking down at the three women round the fire.
Now Denise’s hood34 was back, and the firelight shining on her hair and face. Gaillard stood on the bank above, and stared at her, intently, silently, and she at him. Denise felt stricken dumb, and the heart froze in her, for Gaillard was near enough for her to recognise his face. It seemed to Denise that he stood there and gloated over her, opening his mouth wide to laugh, but making no sound. She saw him raise his hand, touch his breast, and then make the sign of the cross in the air, watching her as a ghost might watch the confused and half-stupefied terror of one awakened35 out of sleep.
Marpasse happened to raise her eyes to Denise’s face, and its bleak36, fixed stare put her upon the alert.
“Heart alive, sister, is the devil at my back?”
She twisted round in time to see a man moving off into the darkness, and Marpasse caught a glimpse of the gold suns on the blue surcoat. She jumped up, looked hard at Denise, and then went a few steps after Gaillard into the darkness. But the man did not wait for her, and she was recalled by a sharp cry from Isoult.
Marpasse saw Denise climb the bank, and disappear into the darkness, and in a moment Marpasse was after her, knowing more than Denise knew of a camping ground at night. She still had view of the grey cloak, and Denise fled like a blind thing, and like a blind thing she was soon in trouble. She had run towards the place where the night seemed blackest, but the passion of her flight carried her into nothing more sympathetic than an old thorn hedge. It was here that Marpasse came up with her, while she was tearing her cloak free from the clinging thorns and brambles.
She caught Denise and held her.
“Fool, where are you running?”
“Let me go, Marpasse.”
Denise’s voice was fierce and eager, the eager fierceness of a grown woman, not the petulance37 of a child. She struggled with Marpasse, but the woman kept her hold.
“Let me go, take your hands away!”
Marpasse found Denise stronger than she had thought.
“Fool, I am holding you for your own good. Strike me on the mouth, I am used to it. I know what a camping ground is like at night. Some great, fat spider will have you in a twinkling.”
Denise struggled for breath.
“I must go, Marpasse, take your hands away.”
“Saints, don’t shout so, they are as thick here as flies on a dead horse! Ssst, listen to that!”
She dragged Denise close to the hedge, for they heard men stumbling and calling in the darkness.
“Hallo there, hallo!”
“Come here, you squeakers, and keep us company.”
“Find ’em, good dog, find ’em.”
Marpasse laid a hand over Denise’s mouth, and they crouched38 there while the men beat the hedge and shouted like boys bird hunting with clap nets at night. They were on the wrong side of the hedge, however, and soon grew tired of the game. The women heard them move off into the darkness.
Marpasse took her hand from Denise’s mouth.
“Help me, Marpasse. My God, I cannot stay here.”
She was still in a fever for flight, but more reasonable towards Marpasse. The woman sat down under the hedge, and pulling Denise after her, held her in her arms.
“Let me play mother,” quoth she gently, “keep to a whisper, my dear. I know something about trouble.”
So with the camp fires about them, and with the sound of trumpets40 blown madly and at random41 in the town below, these two women opened their hearts to one another. Denise told Marpasse how Gaillard had served her, how she had seen him that night, how she loathed42 and feared the man, and Marpasse understood. She was wise, poor wench, in the ways of the world, and Denise’s tale might have been her own in measure. But Marpasse had not been wholly hardened and brutalised by the life she had led. She had the instinct of generosity43 left in her, and she could be superlatively honest when she was not rebuffed by sneers44.
Marpasse had an honest fit that night. She told Denise the truth about herself, and knew by Denise’s silence and a certain stiffening45 of her body that the truth had roused a counter-shock of repulsion. Denise’s instincts recoiled46 from Marpasse. The woman was sensitive to the change. She drew aside from Denise, and sat with her knees drawn47 up, and her arms clasped over them.
“You are like the rest of the world, sister,” she said, with a laugh on edge with bitterness; “even when we try to be honest, good people spit on us, and draw aside their clothes.”
Denise stretched out a hand and touched Marpasse’s shoulder.
“It is not that,” she said.
“Bah, I am used to it! We are never forgiven, and I want no forgiveness. Fawn48 and cringe on the godly? To hell with their smug faces! But after all, you and I, my dear——”
She stopped, and began to pull at the grass with her hands. Denise’s eyes were shining.
“God forgive us both, Marpasse. Sometimes fate is stronger than we are. We are sisters, in that.”
Marpasse did not move. It was Denise now who played the comforter. Marpasse did not repel49 her a second time.
“Bah,” said she, “what is the use of talking? The good people will never let me be other than I am, and even a pig must live. But you, you can climb out of the quagmire50, my dear. The Gascon devil, I would stick my knife in him for nothing. Listen to me now, we must go back to the fire, and wait till the morning. It will be easier to bolt then. You must not risk it in the dark.”
Denise still clung to the darkness, as though it could keep Gaillard at arm’s length. Marpasse scolded her.
“Why, you chicken, you have never learnt how to rule a man! Who is this Gaillard, indeed? I tell you I am not afraid of him, Marpasse is a match for any Gascon.”
She held out her arms, and the Denise she held in them was white-faced, and very earnest.
“You have a knife, Marpasse,” she said, “you can strike me if needs be.”
Marpasse held her close.
“There, now, there, what mad things are you saying?”
But Denise clung to her passionately51, looking straight into Marpasse’s eyes.
“Promise to strike with the knife, Marpasse. Promise or I will run, and take my chance.”
And Marpasse promised so far as the knife was concerned, knowing that she would strike Gaillard before she struck Denise.
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收听单词发音
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1
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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bellows
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| n.风箱；发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的名词复数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的第三人称单数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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3
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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4
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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6
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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7
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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8
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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9
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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10
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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11
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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12
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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13
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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14
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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16
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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17
moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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pegs
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| n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 )；挂钉；系帐篷的桩；弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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21
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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22
munched
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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24
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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25
impudently
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26
boors
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| n.农民( boor的名词复数 )；乡下佬；没礼貌的人；粗野的人 | |
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27
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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28
huddling
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| n. 杂乱一团, 混乱, 拥挤 v. 推挤, 乱堆, 草率了事 | |
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29
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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30
jeers
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| n.操纵帆桁下部（使其上下的）索具；嘲讽( jeer的名词复数 )v.嘲笑( jeer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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31
wasp
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| n.黄蜂，蚂蜂 | |
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32
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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33
blazoned
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| v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布；夸示；装饰 | |
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34
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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35
awakened
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| 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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36
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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37
petulance
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| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
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38
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
hawks
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| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
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40
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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41
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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42
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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43
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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44
sneers
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| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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45
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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46
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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47
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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48
fawn
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| n.未满周岁的小鹿；v.巴结，奉承 | |
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49
repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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50
quagmire
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| n.沼地 | |
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51
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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