Little Blind Fish, who put out thy eyes?
Open thine ears while I whisper my wish—
Bring me a lover, thou little Blind Fish.
The Charm of the Bisara.
Some natives say that it came from the other side of Kulu, where the eleven-inch Temple Sapphire1 is. Others that it was made at the Devil-Shrine of Ao-Chung in Thibet, was stolen by a Kafir, from him by a Gurkha, from him again by a Lahouli, from him by a khitmatgar, and by this latter sold to an Englishman, so all its virtue2 was lost: because, to work properly, the Bisara of Pooree must be stolen—with bloodshed if possible, but, at any rate, stolen.
These stories of the coming into India are all false. It was made at Pooree ages since—the manner of its making would fill a small book—was stolen by one of the Temple dancing-girls there, for her own purposes, and then passed on from hand to hand, steadily3 northward4, till it reached Hanla: always bearing the same name—the Bisara of Pooree. In shape it is a tiny, square box of silver, studded outside with eight small balas-rubies. Inside the box, which opens with a spring, is a little eyeless fish, carved from some sort of dark, shiny nut and wrapped in a shred5 of faded gold-cloth. That is the Bisara of Pooree, and it were better for a man to take a king cobra in his hand than to touch the Bisara of Pooree.
All kinds of magic are out of date and done away with except in India where nothing changes in spite of the shiny, toy-scum stuff that people call “civilization.” Any man who knows about the Bisara of Pooree will tell you what its powers are—always supposing that it has been honestly stolen. It is the only regularly working, trustworthy love-charm in the country, with one exception.
[The other charm is in the hands of a trooper of the Nizam's Horse, at a place called Tuprani, due north of Hyderabad.] This can be depended upon for a fact. Some one else may explain it.
If the Bisara be not stolen, but given or bought or found, it turns against its owner in three years, and leads to ruin or death. This is another fact which you may explain when you have time. Meanwhile, you can laugh at it. At present, the Bisara is safe on an ekka-pony6's neck, inside the blue bead-necklace that keeps off the Evil-eye. If the ekka-driver ever finds it, and wears it, or gives it to his wife, I am sorry for him.
A very dirty hill-cooly woman, with goitre, owned it at Theog in 1884. It came into Simla from the north before Churton's khitmatgar bought it, and sold it, for three times its silver-value, to Churton, who collected curiosities. The servant knew no more what he had bought than the master; but a man looking over Churton's collection of curiosities—Churton was an Assistant Commissioner7 by the way—saw and held his tongue. He was an Englishman; but knew how to believe. Which shows that he was different from most Englishmen. He knew that it was dangerous to have any share in the little box when working or dormant8; for unsought Love is a terrible gift.
Pack—“Grubby” Pack, as we used to call him—was, in every way, a nasty little man who must have crawled into the Army by mistake. He was three inches taller than his sword, but not half so strong. And the sword was a fifty-shilling, tailor-made one. Nobody liked him, and, I suppose, it was his wizenedness and worthlessness that made him fall so hopelessly in love with Miss Hollis, who was good and sweet, and five foot seven in her tennis shoes. He was not content with falling in love quietly, but brought all the strength of his miserable9 little nature into the business. If he had not been so objectionable, one might have pitied him. He vapored10, and fretted11, and fumed12, and trotted13 up and down, and tried to make himself pleasing in Miss Hollis's big, quiet, gray eyes, and failed. It was one of the cases that you sometimes meet, even in this country where we marry by Code, of a really blind attachment14 all on one side, without the faintest possibility of return. Miss Hollis looked on Pack as some sort of vermin running about the road. He had no prospects15 beyond Captain's pay, and no wits to help that out by one anna. In a large-sized man, love like his would have been touching16. In a good man it would have been grand. He being what he was, it was only a nuisance.
You will believe this much. What you will not believe, is what follows: Churton, and The Man who Knew that the Bisara was, were lunching at the Simla Club together. Churton was complaining of life in general. His best mare17 had rolled out of stable down the hill and had broken her back; his decisions were being reversed by the upper Courts, more than an Assistant Commissioner of eight years' standing18 has a right to expect; he knew liver and fever, and, for weeks past, had felt out of sorts. Altogether, he was disgusted and disheartened.
Simla Club dining-room is built, as all the world knows, in two sections, with an arch-arrangement dividing them. Come in, turn to your own left, take the table under the window, and you cannot see any one who has come in, turning to the right, and taken a table on the right side of the arch. Curiously19 enough, every word that you say can be heard, not only by the other diner, but by the servants beyond the screen through which they bring dinner. This is worth knowing: an echoing-room is a trap to be forewarned against.
Half in fun, and half hoping to be believed, The Man who Knew told Churton the story of the Bisara of Pooree at rather greater length than I have told it to you in this place; winding20 up with the suggestion that Churton might as well throw the little box down the hill and see whether all his troubles would go with it. In ordinary ears, English ears, the tale was only an interesting bit of folk-lore. Churton laughed, said that he felt better for his tiffin, and went out. Pack had been tiffining by himself to the right of the arch, and had heard everything. He was nearly mad with his absurd infatuation for Miss Hollis that all Simla had been laughing about.
It is a curious thing that, when a man hates or loves beyond reason, he is ready to go beyond reason to gratify his feelings. Which he would not do for money or power merely. Depend upon it, Solomon would never have built altars to Ashtaroth and all those ladies with queer names, if there had not been trouble of some kind in his zenana, and nowhere else. But this is beside the story. The facts of the case are these: Pack called on Churton next day when Churton was out, left his card, and STOLE the Bisara of Pooree from its place under the clock on the mantelpiece! Stole it like the thief he was by nature. Three days later, all Simla was electrified21 by the news that Miss Hollis had accepted Pack—the shrivelled rat, Pack! Do you desire clearer evidence than this? The Bisara of Pooree had been stolen, and it worked as it had always done when won by foul22 means.
There are three or four times in a man's life-when he is justified23 in meddling24 with other people's affairs to play Providence25.
The Man who Knew felt that he WAS justified; but believing and acting26 on a belief are quite different things. The insolent27 satisfaction of Pack as he ambled28 by the side of Miss Hollis, and Churton's striking release from liver, as soon as the Bisara of Pooree had gone, decided29 the Man. He explained to Churton and Churton laughed, because he was not brought up to believe that men on the Government House List steal—at least little things. But the miraculous30 acceptance by Miss Hollis of that tailor, Pack, decided him to take steps on suspicion. He vowed31 that he only wanted to find out where his ruby-studded silver box had vanished to. You cannot accuse a man on the Government House List of stealing. And if you rifle his room you are a thief yourself. Churton, prompted by The Man who Knew, decided on burglary. If he found nothing in Pack's room.... but it is not nice to think of what would have happened in that case.
Pack went to a dance at Benmore—Benmore WAS Benmore in those days, and not an office—and danced fifteen waltzes out of twenty-two with Miss Hollis. Churton and The Man took all the keys that they could lay hands on, and went to Pack's room in the hotel, certain that his servants would be away. Pack was a cheap soul. He had not purchased a decent cash-box to keep his papers in, but one of those native imitations that you buy for ten rupees. It opened to any sort of key, and there at the bottom, under Pack's Insurance Policy, lay the Bisara of Pooree!
Churton called Pack names, put the Bisara of Pooree in his pocket, and went to the dance with The Man. At least, he came in time for supper, and saw the beginning of the end in Miss Hollis's eyes. She was hysterical32 after supper, and was taken away by her Mamma.
At the dance, with the abominable33 Bisara in his pocket, Churton twisted his foot on one of the steps leading down to the old Rink, and had to be sent home in a rickshaw, grumbling34. He did not believe in the Bisara of Pooree any the more for this manifestation35, but he sought out Pack and called him some ugly names; and “thief” was the mildest of them. Pack took the names with the nervous smile of a little man who wants both soul and body to resent an insult, and went his way. There was no public scandal.
A week later, Pack got his definite dismissal from Miss Hollis. There had been a mistake in the placing of her affections, she said. So he went away to Madras, where he can do no great harm even if he lives to be a Colonel.
Churton insisted upon The Man who Knew taking the Bisara of Pooree as a gift. The Man took it, went down to the Cart Road at once, found an ekka pony with a blue head-necklace, fastened the Bisara of Pooree inside the necklace with a piece of shoe-string and thanked Heaven that he was rid of a danger. Remember, in case you ever find it, that you must not destroy the Bisara of Pooree. I have not time to explain why just now, but the power lies in the little wooden fish. Mister Gubernatis or Max Muller could tell you more about it than I.
You will say that all this story is made up. Very well. If ever you come across a little silver, ruby-studded box, seven-eighths of an inch long by three-quarters wide, with a dark-brown wooden fish, wrapped in gold cloth, inside it, keep it. Keep it for three years, and then you will discover for yourself whether my story is true or false.
Better still, steal it as Pack did, and you will be sorry that you had not killed yourself in the beginning.
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收听单词发音
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1
sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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2
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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3
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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4
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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5
shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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6
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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7
commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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8
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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9
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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10
vapored
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| v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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12
fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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13
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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14
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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15
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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16
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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17
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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18
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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19
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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20
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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21
electrified
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| v.使电气化( electrify的过去式和过去分词 )；使兴奋 | |
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22
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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23
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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24
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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25
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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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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27
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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28
ambled
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的过去式和过去分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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29
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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30
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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31
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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32
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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33
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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34
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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35
manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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