Ursula had seen nothing more in Denise than a young woman with gorgeous hair, a deathly face, and blood upon her bosom3, and Ursula’s nostrils4 had caught a rank flavour of godlessness from the affair. The woman had stabbed herself or been stabbed. She was probably nothing more than a common courtesan, for Ursula had a vague knowledge that the sisterhood of Rahab still existed. And like many religious women, Ursula was very sure of her own cleanliness, and very suspicious of the cleanliness of others.
The woman could not be left to die, there was her “state of sin” to be remembered; yet Ursula was conscious of great graciousness in suffering Denise to be carried within her doors. Then there was the knight5 to be dealt with, and the Prioress who knew nothing of men, minced6 before Aymery with prim haughtiness7, folding her hands over her lean body, giving him to understand that it was no concern of hers to please him. Aymery, in the deeps and on the heights in one and the same hour, and stricken to the inmost humanism of his soul, had no eyes for Ursula’s prinnickings and prancings. He was in the throes of a tragedy, a strong and impassioned man whose thoughts and desires moved with the headlong naturalness of a stream in flood.
Ursula, half eager to be rid of the man, and yet equally curious, and prying9, received him, under a hinted protest, in her Prioress’ parlour. To be sure, she had a couple of nuns10 outside the door, but some of her prejudicial tartness11 vanished when she heard the name of Simon the Earl. Even the pinpoint12 of the Prioress’ womanliness caught the gleam of Aymery’s intensity13 that burnt at a white heat. She showed herself old-maidishly ready to hear the truth about Denise, since a knight trusted by Earl Simon could not be wholly a dissolute rogue14.
Aymery made a mistake that day, a mistake that many a generous and impassioned man has made. Here was a devout woman, a mother of souls, and Aymery took her for what her religion should have made her. Denise, poor child, with the flicker15 of life still in her, was to be laid to rest in Ursula’s lap. No woman could withhold16 pity in such a case, and Aymery told Ursula some part of Denise’s tale, not seeing that he was throwing a rose into a pot of sour wine.
The Prioress’ starched17 figure looked lean and stiff. She was interested, but, dear St. Agnes!—greatly shocked. Aymery’s words fell on an ass’s hide like blows on an empty drum. The drum resounded18, made some godly stir, but held nothing more than air.
Aymery had money in his purse. It was not much, but Ursula was a woman whose skin had the colour of gold. She took the money, and his promises of a bequest19 should the people’s cause prosper20, thinking it easily earned by burying a lost woman and putting up prayers for her soul. Ursula would have prayed religiously. She was perfectly21 sincere in her own corner of the world.
“God give rest to all sinners,” she said sententiously, “we will do what we can for the girl. It is a pity that she should not have been shrived.”
Aymery’s face would have made Marpasse weep. It had no meaning for Madame Ursula.
“I would see her, before I go,” he said.
And his heart added:
“Perhaps for the last time.”
Ursula’s sympathy was purely22 perfunctory. They had carried Denise into the little infirmary, and laid her upon a bed. She still breathed, and two of the nuns who had some knowledge of leech-craft, had unwound the swathings, but feared to touch the pad that Marpasse had forced into the wound. They had poured oil and a decoction of astringent23 herbs thereon, wiped the blood-stains from the bosom, and swathed Denise in clean linen24. Then they had given her into the hands of the saints, and sat down to watch, whispering to each other across the bed.
The slant25 of the late sunshine came into the room when Aymery entered at the trail of Ursula’s gown. The sunlight struck upon the bed where Denise lay white as a lily with the glory of her hair shining like molten gold. And to Aymery it seemed that she smiled sadly like one dreaming the end of some sad dream.
Ursula’s starched wimple creaked in the still room. She stood looking down from a pinnacle26 of righteousness; the two nuns rose and went to the window, taking care to see all that passed.
Their bodies shut off the sunlight from Denise’s face, and threw it into shadow. Aymery was standing27 beside the bed. The two nuns glanced at one another, and were ready to titter when he knelt down in his battle harness as though praying, or taking some vow28.
Before he rose he touched one of Denise’s hands, and it was as cold as snow when he laid it against his lips. Ursula made a sharp sound in her throat. Such happenings were not discreet29 before women who were celibates30.
Aymery rose and, looking at none of them, marched to the door.
“If she lives,” he would have said, “be kind to her until I can return.”
But death seemed to hover31 so close above Denise that he went out in silence, putting all human hope aside.
Ursula followed him, debonair32 by reason of her good birth, and superficially courteous33 after the habit of such a gentlewoman. Would Aymery take wine and meat? Aymery had the heart for neither, but he remembered Marpasse. Ursula had his wallet filled for him, and he took leave of her, finding little to say to show his gratitude34. The old portress had watered his horse, and given the beast a few handfuls of corn.
It was growing dusk when Aymery rode out of the gate, and found Marpasse still sitting there on the bench. The figure looked lonely, with a dejected droop35 of the shoulders, and a hanging of the head. Marpasse’s worldliness was down in the dust that evening.
She got up from the bench and made Aymery a reverence36. A spirit of bitter mockery possessed37 her, for the day’s tragedy had hurt Marpasse more than she would confess.
Aymery reined38 in. He said nothing concerning Denise, but held out the wallet that the nuns had filled for him.
“There is food there. You must be hungry.”
Marpasse’s eyes flashed up at him, and dropped into a hard and sidelong stare. She took the wallet, and stood biting her lower lip.
Aymery’s fingers twisted themselves into his horse’s mane.
“Still, a little breathing. They have put her to bed.”
Marpasse nodded.
“I have no great hope——”
Aymery walked his horse along the track, but Marpasse did not follow him. She stood there morosely41, biting her lip, and holding Aymery’s wallet in her hands. He glanced back, and finding that she had not moved, he reined in again and waited.
Marpasse came on slowly, one hand in the wallet, her eyes on the grass. When she had rejoined Aymery she stopped and stood unsolicitous and silent. The man appeared to be considering something. Yet he saw that the woman’s face was hard and gloomy in the twilight42.
“What are your plans?” he asked suddenly.
Marpasse stared.
“A ditch has often served me well enough, lording. We strollers count for little.”
She laughed, fished a loaf out of the wallet, and broke off a crust.
“Do not trouble your head about me, lording,” she said, “go your way. One pull at the bottle, and you shall have your wallet back.”
“Good-night to you, lording. We have our own ways to go. Mine is a common track, and I know the tread of my own shoes.”
Aymery still held his horse in hand. He had something to say to Marpasse, and the words did not come to him easily. The woman was more human than Ursula, and his heart went out to her because of Denise. But before he had spoken twenty words, Marpasse broke in with a rough and bitter laugh.
“Lording,” said she, “you cannot make silk out of sackcloth, however much you try. Go your way, I am safe enough on the road. I have a bit of bread here, and I shall sleep soundly under a bush. And to-morrow and the next day, I shall be, just what I have been these five years.”
Aymery’s eyes were still troubled on her behalf. Marpasse shook her hair, and shrugged44 her shoulders.
“The mule45 must carry its load, and be given the stick if it kicks, or turns aside. Bah, I know what I am! Denise, there, that was a piece of gold to be picked up out of the dust. Go your way, lording, and do not waste your words. I should only laugh in your face to-morrow, and call you a fool.”
She sat down in the grass and began to eat her bread, ignoring the man on the horse, as though that were the surest way of answering him. There was nothing for Aymery to do but to go, and leave Marpasse to her own road.
“God’s speed, lording,” she said as he turned his horse.
“God’s speed to you, sister.”
So the night came, and these two solitary47 ones took up the strands48 of their several lives, strands that had been tangled49 by the martyrdom of Denise. Earl Simon’s trumpets50 called Aymery into the east, whither the King’s host went marching with dust and din8. No sword could stay in the scabbard those days, and Aymery had pledged his to Earl Simon, who needed every sword.
Marpasse had watched Aymery ride away into the gathering51 darkness. She sat there in the grass, sullen52, brooding, yet touched by what he had said.
“Bah!” said she, “what would be the use? Brave heart, go your way, and God bless you, for being brave, and honest. Wake up, fool! What, thick in the throat, and ready to blubber like a sot in his cups! Marpasse, my dear, you are a slut and a fool! This is what comes of letting your heart run away with your heels. You will be back to-morrow on the old devil-may-care road.”
But for all her self-scorn—Marpasse could not conjure53 her own emotion. Her heart hurt her and was troubled, nor could she sleep that night, though she huddled54 close under the forlorn remnant of a haystack that she found in a meadow. Marpasse felt alone, utterly55 alone in the world, and conscious of the raw night and the darkness. Who would have cared, she thought, if she had used her knife as Denise had used it? Strangers would have kicked her into a hole, and covered her with sods; that would have been the end.
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1
prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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2
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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6
minced
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| v.切碎( mince的过去式和过去分词 )；剁碎；绞碎；用绞肉机绞（食物，尤指肉） | |
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7
haughtiness
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| n.傲慢；傲气 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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9
prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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10
nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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11
tartness
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| n.酸，锋利 | |
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12
pinpoint
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| vt.准确地确定；用针标出…的精确位置 | |
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13
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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14
rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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15
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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16
withhold
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| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
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17
starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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19
bequest
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| n.遗赠；遗产，遗物 | |
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20
prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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21
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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23
astringent
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| adj.止血的，收缩的，涩的；n.收缩剂，止血剂 | |
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24
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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25
slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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26
pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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27
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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28
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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29
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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30
celibates
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| n.独身者( celibate的名词复数 ) | |
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31
hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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32
debonair
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| adj.殷勤的，快乐的 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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34
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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35
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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36
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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37
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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38
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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39
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
morosely
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| adv.愁眉苦脸地，忧郁地 | |
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42
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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43
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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44
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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45
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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46
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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47
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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48
strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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49
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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50
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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51
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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52
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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53
conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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54
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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55
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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