“I have found her,” she said, and Grimbald had only to listen, for Marpasse’s generous impatience2 had ample inspiration.
“Never tell me women are not obstinate3, Father, for I swear to you that Denise was born to make misery4 for herself. A Jew hunting for a farthing in the mud is not more careful than Denise to hunt out something to grieve over. I should like to cut the conscience out of her, and bury it.”
Grimbald held up a hand, and rising from the stool, went to the doorway5 of the inner room, and looked in to see that Aymery was asleep. He closed the door softly, and came back to the hot cakes and Marpasse.
“You are a great battle-horse, my child,” he said bluntly. “Denise’s flanks are not for the same spur.”
“Dear Lord, but the pity of it. All this to-do, and blood-spilling, and no marriage bed at the end of it. There is no law of the Church against it, Father, surely? The monks7 clapped vows8 on her, and pulled them off again with their own hands.”
His strong face shone like burnished10 copper11 in the firelight; a gaunt, good face, honest and very shrewd. Marpasse watched him, and the thought flashed on her from somewhere that it would be an excellent thing to have the baking of such a man’s bread. And with a quaint12 impulsiveness13 she put her hand up over her mouth, symbolising the smothering14 of so scandalous a conceit15.
“I have no love for the convent women,” he said, “and there—I am out of fashion.”
Marpasse saw the worldly side of the picture, and smoothed away a smile.
“Then you would make them man and wife, Father if the chance offered?”
“Against all the monkish17 law in the kingdom,” he said stoutly18; “we put no vows on her when she had her cell up yonder. And some of the folk here would have been burnt for her if she had asked it. Only that lewd19 dog of a Gascon——Well, we broke their teeth at Lewes.”
Marpasse stared solemnly into the fire as though looking for pictures amid the blaze of the burning wood.
“If Denise could only forget a year,” she said.
Grimbald nodded wisely.
“God wastes nothing,” he answered; “those who never suffer, never learn.”
Aymery slept the whole night, and woke soon after dawn with a rush of memories like clouds over a March sky. He found Grimbald sitting by his bed. Grimbald was dozing20, but his eyes opened suddenly and looked straight at Aymery like the eyes of an altar saint in the dimness of the room.
The first word that Aymery uttered was the name of Denise.
“Marpasse has found her,” he said.
Aymery’s eyes asked more than Grimbald had the heart to tell.
“She is safe,” was all that he would say, and acting22 as though there were no secret to be concealed23, he went out to lay the fire on the hearth of the great room.
Now Marpasse showed a most managing temper that May morning, and went about as though she had some grave work on hand. She herself took food in to Aymery, remained awhile with the door shut, and came out looking very set about the mouth.
“I have told him a lie,” she said to Grimbald in a whisper, “his eyes asked for it. Go in and barber him, Father; a lover looks best with a clean chin.”
Grimbald stared her in the face.
“What have you told him?”
“That we kept her away last night—for the sake of his wounds.”
Grimbald’s lips came together for a “but.” Marpasse whispered on.
“Get your razor and barber him, Father, and keep a clean edge on the lie. His eyes asked for it—I tell you, and I had not the heart to dash in the truth. I have the yoke24 on my own shoulders. Two lies sometimes make the truth.”
“I am going to fetch her,” she said; “no—I shall not scold. I have my plan. You may sit in the wood-shed out of sight, Father Grimbald, when I bring her back with me. If she sees you it will spoil the whole brew27.”
She turned on the threshold, and Grimbald saw suddenly that her eyes were wet.
“Pray for them both, good Father,” she said to him, “my heart’s in the thing whatever rough words my mouth may say.”
And Grimbald promised, and let her go. Yet when she had gone, and he was left alone in the great room with its black beams and smoking hearth, he saw through his prayers the brave, brown face of Marpasse.
Yet Marpasse’s warm-hearted, yet coarser, nature could not vibrate to the subtler emotions that stirred in Denise. The two were like crude sunshine and moonlight; Marpasse healthy and vital in herself, yet lacking mystery and the glimmer28 of visionary things. Denise had often been more a spirit than a body, though the woman in her had been awakened29, and the rich warm scent30 of the earth had ascended31 into her nostrils32. Suffering had made her very human, and yet the soul in her still beat its wings, even though those wings should carry it away from the world’s desire nearer to the cold stars in a lonely sky. To Marpasse, Denise’s self-condemnation might seem a kind of futile33 and pitiable sanctity, but then Marpasse had more blood and bone in her, and less of that spirit that is crucified by its own purity.
Denise had passed the whole night in the long grass under the rose tree, looking at the stars and the vague, black shapes of the great beeches34. The cell had a horror for her, and she would not enter it, as though her other self lay dead within. That other memory was more vivid than the memories of those nights when Aymery had lain there wounded little more than a year ago.
Give herself to the man she felt she could not, for she was too sensitive, too much a sad soul in a beautiful body not to feel the veil of aloofness35 that covered her face, that veil that was invisible and impalpable to Marpasse. Her own innocence36 made her more conscious of that other life—that other innocent soul that had been born in her, and which had taken from the mother that which she would have given to Aymery whom she loved. Only a pure woman could feel what Denise felt in her heart of hearts. The divine girdle had been torn from her. Love might be blind to it, but Denise’s soul could not be blind.
And yet a sense of great loneliness rushed upon her that night, weighing her down into the long grass, and making her heart heavy. The petals37 of the rose fell dew drenched38 into her lap. The night was still and fragrant39, and no wind made the trees mutter like the hoarse40 whisperings of an oracle41 in some ancient forest. The heart of Denise was heavy within her. The sad deeps of life seemed between her and the world, a dark voiceless gulf42 that no living soul could cross.
So the day came, and with it Marpasse, holly staff in hand, alert, and on her guard. But she was disarmed43 that morning by Denise herself. The first glimpse of that tragic44 and troubled face drove the rougher words out of Marpasse’s mouth. She took Denise in her arms, and kissed her, seeing in those brown eyes such deeps of sincerity45 and sadness, that Marpasse humbled46 herself, feeling herself near to something greater than a woman’s whim47.
Marpasse guessed what Denise had to say. The renunciation lay in the brown eyes like a dim mist of tears.
“I am going away, Marpasse,” she said. “I have thought of it all the night.”
Marpasse hid her impulses, and was patient and very gentle.
“Heart of mine, where will you go?”
“To Earl Simon.”
Marpasse opened her eyes.
“I shall go to him, and put everything before him. He has a great heart, Marpasse, and his lady has the soul of Mary—Our Mother. Nor shall I go in vain.”
She spoke48 very simply, like one resigned, but Marpasse felt the wild heart of a woman who loved palpitating beneath her courage. It was the purpose of one whose knees shook under her, and who strove to keep herself from looking back. A touch, and love would break out, with a great passionate49 cry. Marpasse saw it all, and took her inspiration.
“So be it, heart of mine,” she said, looking sad enough; “and yet—before you go—there is Father Grimbald yonder. The good man strained a sinew last night, or he would have been here with me this morning. He would not forgive your going without seeing him.”
Denise breathed out the answer that Marpasse was expecting.
“But I cannot go! He—is there.”
Marpasse, brazen-faced, told the lie of her life.
“Messire Aymery? He is so little the worse that he was in the saddle at daybreak, and searching the woods to the west, and half the village with him.”
Denise looked into Marpasse’s eyes.
“That is the truth?”
“Heart of mine, why should I tell you a lie!”
Denise seemed to hesitate. She shrank from the sight of any familiar face that morning, and yet her heart reproached her because of Grimbald. The thought was often with her that she might have trusted him more deeply.
Denise surrendered.
“I will come,” she said; “but I will see no one but Grimbald.”
“Leave it to me, sister; we can keep to the woods.”
Marpasse played her part so well that no flicker52 of suspicion passed over Denise’s face as they made their way across the valley to the priest’s house under the silver birches. Only here and there had they to leave the woodlands to cross a meadow or a piece of the wild common where the villagers pastured their cattle. Denise walked with her hood drawn53 forward, looking about her wistfully at the hills and valleys that were so familiar, and had been so dear. She felt like a stranger in the Goldspur woods that morning, a bird of passage that passed and left no loneliness in the heart of the land she left. Marpasse talked much upon the way, entering into Denise’s plans as though she were resigned to them, the most loving of hypocrites who lied for the sake of love. She even warned Denise to take care of her long-suffering body. “Two nights without sleep,” she said, “is enough for any woman. Live your life in such a hurry and you will be as thin as a post in three months, with wrinkles all over your face. The pity of it! Like a piece of fine silk left out in the wind and rain.”
So they came to Grimbald’s house amid the silver stems of the birches, Marpasse alert and on the watch lest some piece of clumsiness should make her plot miscarry. Denise was shy and wild as an untamed falcon54, her brown eyes half afraid of the birch wood, as though Aymery might come riding out with half Goldspur village at his heels. Marpasse saw the look in Denise’s eyes. One clap of the hands and the bird would be skimming on frightened wings.
“Courage, sister,” she said, “there is not a soul to be seen. I will keep guard and watch while you are talking with Grimbald. No, the good man will not try to over-persuade you. If I whistle, then you will know that there is danger in the distance.”
They entered the porch, Marpasse first, Denise following.
Marpasse crossed the outer room, peeped in, held up a hand to Aymery, and turned and called Denise. There was an iron catch on the door that hooked into a staple56, so that the door could be fastened on the outer side. Moreover the door opened outwards57 into the larger room, and Marpasse stood with her hand on the catch.
“She is coming, Father,” she said, keeping her eyes upon Denise.
The grey figure brushed past Marpasse, and crossed the threshold in all innocence. No sooner was Denise within, than Marpasse clapped to the door, fastened it, and ran like a mad woman out of the house.
In the wood-shed at the end of the rough garden she found Grimbald sitting patiently on the chopping block behind a screen of faggots.
“I have shut her in with him,” she said; “now love must win—or never.”
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1
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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4
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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7
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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8
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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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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10
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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11
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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12
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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13
impulsiveness
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| n.冲动 | |
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14
smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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15
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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16
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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monkish
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| adj.僧侣的，修道士的，禁欲的 | |
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18
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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19
lewd
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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21
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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24
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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27
brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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28
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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29
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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30
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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31
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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33
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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34
beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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35
aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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36
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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37
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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38
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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39
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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40
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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41
oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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42
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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43
disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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44
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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45
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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46
humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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47
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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48
spoke
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| 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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49
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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50
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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51
shun
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| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
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52
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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53
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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54
falcon
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| n.隼，猎鹰 | |
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55
sprained
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| v.&n. 扭伤 | |
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56
staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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57
outwards
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| adj.外面的，公开的，向外的；adv.向外；n.外形 | |
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