A pillar of fire shone red amid the chaos5 of the woods. Like a great torch, a blazing tower hurled6 spears of light into the gloom. Shadows, vast and fantastic, struggled like Titans striving with Destiny in the silence of the night. Their substanceless limbs leapt and writhed7 through the gnarled alleys8 of the forest. Overhead, the moon looked down with thin and silver lethargy on the havoc9 kindled10 by the hand of man.
In a glade11, all golden with the breath of the fire, blackened battlements waved a pennon of vermilion flame above the woods. Smoke, in eddying12 and gilded13 clouds, rolled heavenwards to be silvered into snow by the light of the moon. The grass of the glade shone a dusky, yet brilliant green; the tower's windows were red as rubies14 on a pall15 of sables17. About its base, cottages were burning like faggots piled about a martyr's loins.
Tragedy had touched the place with her ruddy hand. There had been savage18 deeds done in the silence of the woods. Hirelings, a rough pack of mercenaries in the service of the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault, had stolen upon the tower of Rual of Cambremont, slain19 him before his own gate, and put his sons to the sword. A feud20 had inspired the event, a rotten shred21 of enmity woven on Stephen's Eve in a tavern22 scuffle. The burning tower with its cracking walls bore witness to the extravagant23 malice24 of a rugged25 age.
Death, that flinty summoner, salves but the dead, yet wounds the living. It is sport with him to pile woe26 upon the shoulders of the weak, to crown with thorns the brows of those who mourn. Double-handed are his blessings--a balm for those who sleep, an iron scourge27 for the living. The quick bow down before his feet; only the dead fear him no more in the marble philosophy of silence.
On a patch of grass within the golden whirl of the fire lay the body of Rual of Cambremont, stiff and still. His face was turned to the heavens; his white beard tinctured with the dye of death. Beside him knelt a girl whose unloosed hair trailed on his body, dark and disastrous28 as a sable16 cloud. The girl's eyes were tearless, dry and dim. Her hands were at her throat, clenched29 in an ecstasy30 of despair. Her head was bowed down below her stooping shoulders, and she knelt like Thea over Saturn's shame.
Behind her in the shadow, his face grey in the uncertain gloom, an old man watched the scene with a wordless awe31. He was a servant, thin and meagre, bowed under Time's burden, a dried wisp of manhood, living symbol of decay. There was something of the dog about his look, a dumb loyalty32 that grieved and gave no sound. Beneath the burning tower in the heat of the flames, these twain seemed to mimic33 the stillness of the dead.
There was other life in the glade none the less, a red relic34 evidencing the handiwork of the sword. A streak35 of shadow that had lain motionless in the yellow glare of the fire, stirred in the rank grass with a snuffling groan36. There was a curt37 hint in the sound that brought Jaspar the harper round upon his heel. He moved two steps, went down on his knees in the ooze38, turned the man's head towards the tower, and peered into his face. It was gashed39 from chin to brow, a grim mask of war, contorted the more by the uncertain palpitations of the flames.
Jaspar had a flask40 buckled41 at his girdle. He thrust his knee under the man's head, trickled42 wine between his lips, and waited. The limp hands began to twitch43; the man jerked, drew a wet, stertorous44 breath, stared for a moment with flickering45 lids at the face above him. Jaspar craned down, put his mouth to the man's ear, and spoke46 to him.
The fellow's lips quivered; he stirred a little, strove to lift his head, mumbled47 thickly like a man with a palsied tongue. Jaspar put his ear to the bruised48 mouth and listened. He won words out of the grave, for his rough face hardened, his brows were knotted over the dying man's stumbling syllables49. The harper shouted in his ear, and again waited.
"Gam--Gambrevault, Flavian's men, dead, all dead," ran the death utterance50. "Ave Maria, my lips burn--St. Eulalie--St. Jude, defend me----"
A cough snapped the halting appeal. The man stiffened51 suddenly in Jaspar's arms, and thrust out his feet with a strong spasm52. His hands clawed the grass; his jaw53 fell, leaving his mouth agape, a black circle of death. There was a last rattling54 stridor. Then the head fell back over Jaspar's knee with the neck extended, the eyes wide with a visionless stare.
A shadow fell athwart the dead man and the living, a shadow edged with the golden web of the fire. Looking up, Jaspar the harper saw the girl standing55 above him, staring down upon the dead man's body. The red tower framed her figure with flame, making an ebon cloud of her hair, her body a pillar of sombre stone. Her face was grey, pinched, and expressionless. Youth seemed frozen for the moment into bleak56 and premature57 age.
She bowed down suddenly, her hair falling forward like a cataract58, her eyes large with a tearless hunger. Pointing to the man on Jaspar's knee, she looked into the harper's face, and spoke to him.
"Quick, the truth. I fear it no longer."
Her voice was toneless and hoarse59 as an untuned string. She beat her hands together, and then stood with her fists pressed over her heart.
"Quick, the truth."
The old man turned the body gently to the grass, and still knelt at the woman's feet.
"It is Jean," he said, with great quietness, "Jean the swineherd. He is dead. God rest his soul!"
"Tell me, who is it that has slain my father?"
"They of Gambrevault."
"Ah!"
Her eyes gleamed behind her hair as it fell dishevelled over her face.
"And the rest--Bertrand, my brothers?"
Her voice appealed him with a gradual fear. Jaspar the harper bowed his face, and pointed61 to the tower. The girl straightened, and stood quivering like a loosened bow.
"God! In there! And Roland?"
Again the harper's hand went up with the slow inevitableness of destiny. The flames, as beneath the incantations of a sibyl, leapt higher, roaring hungrily towards the heavens. The girl swayed away some paces, her lips moving silently, her hair fanned by the draught62, blowing about her like a veil. She turned to the tower, thrust up her hands to it with a strong gesture of anguish63 and despair.
A long while she stood in silence as in a kind of torpor64, gazing at this red pyre of the Past, where memories leapt heavenwards in a golden haze65 of smoke. The roar of the fire was as the voice of Fate. She heard it dim and distant like the far thunder of a sea. Beyond, around, above, the gaunt trees clawed at the stars with their leafless talons66. Night and the shadow of it were very apparent to the girl's soul.
Jaspar the harper stood and watched her with a dumb and distant awe. Her rigid67 anguish cowed him into impotent silence. The woman's soul seemed to soar far above comfort, following the saffron smoke into the silver æther of the infinite. The man stood apart, holding aloof68 with the instinct of a dog, from a sorrow that he could not chasten. He was one of those dull yet happy souls, who carry eloquence69 in their eyes, whose tongues are clumsy, but whose hearts are warm. He stood aloof therefore from Yeoland, dead Rual's daughter, pulling his ragged70 beard, and calling in prayer to the Virgin71 and the saints.
Presently the girl turned very slowly, as one whose blood runs chill and heavy. Her eyes were still dry and crystal bright, her face like granite72, or a mask of ice. The man Jaspar hid his glances from her, and stared at the sod. He was fearful in measure of gaping73 blankly upon so great a grief.
"Jaspar," she said, and her voice was clear now as the keen sweep of a sword.
"We alone are left," she said.
"God's will, madame, God's will; He giveth, and taketh away. I, even I, am your servant."
Her eyes lightened an instant as though red wrath75 streamed strongly from her heart. Her mouth quivered. She chilled the mood, however, and stood motionless, save for her hands twining and twisting in her hair.
"Does Heaven mock me?" she asked him, with a level bitterness.
"How so, madame?" he answered her; "who would mock thee at such an hour?"
"Who indeed?"
"Not even Death. I pray you be comforted. There is a balm in years."
They stood silent again in the streaming heat and radiance of the fire. A sudden wind had risen. They heard it crying far away in the infinite vastness of the woods. It grew, rushed near, waxed with a gradual clamour till the bare wilds seemed to breathe one great gathering76 roar. The flames flew slanting77 from the blackened battlements. The trees clutched and swayed, making moan under the calm light of the moon.
"Listen," she said, thrusting up her hands into the night, "the cry of the forest, the voice of the winter wind. What say they but 'vengeance--vengeance--vengeance'?"
该作者其它作品
《The Red Saint》
该作者其它作品
《The Red Saint》
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1 invoked | |
v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 );行使(权利等);祈求救助;恳求 | |
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2 stifled | |
(使)窒息, (使)窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 ); 镇压,遏制; 堵 | |
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3 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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4 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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5 chaos | |
n.混乱,无秩序 | |
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6 hurled | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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7 writhed | |
(因极度痛苦而)扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8 alleys | |
胡同,小巷( alley的名词复数 ); 小径 | |
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9 havoc | |
n.大破坏,浩劫,大混乱,大杂乱 | |
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10 kindled | |
(使某物)燃烧,着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 ); 激起(感情等); 发亮,放光 | |
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11 glade | |
n.林间空地,一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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12 eddying | |
涡流,涡流的形成 | |
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13 gilded | |
a.镀金的,富有的 | |
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14 rubies | |
红宝石( ruby的名词复数 ); 红宝石色,深红色 | |
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15 pall | |
v.覆盖,使平淡无味;n.柩衣,棺罩;棺材;帷幕 | |
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16 sable | |
n.黑貂;adj.黑色的 | |
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17 sables | |
n.紫貂( sable的名词复数 );紫貂皮;阴暗的;暗夜 | |
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18 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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19 slain | |
杀死,宰杀,杀戮( slay的过去分词 ); (slay的过去分词) | |
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20 feud | |
n.长期不和;世仇;v.长期争斗;世代结仇 | |
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21 shred | |
v.撕成碎片,变成碎片;n.碎布条,细片,些少 | |
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22 tavern | |
n.小旅馆,客栈;小酒店 | |
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23 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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24 malice | |
n.恶意,怨恨,蓄意;[律]预谋 | |
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25 rugged | |
adj.高低不平的,粗糙的,粗壮的,强健的 | |
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26 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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27 scourge | |
n.灾难,祸害;v.蹂躏 | |
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28 disastrous | |
adj.灾难性的,造成灾害的;极坏的,很糟的 | |
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29 clenched | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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31 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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32 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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33 mimic | |
v.模仿,戏弄;n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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34 relic | |
n.神圣的遗物,遗迹,纪念物 | |
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35 streak | |
n.条理,斑纹,倾向,少许,痕迹;v.加条纹,变成条纹,奔驰,快速移动 | |
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36 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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37 curt | |
adj.简短的,草率的 | |
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38 ooze | |
n.软泥,渗出物;vi.渗出,泄漏;vt.慢慢渗出,流露 | |
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39 gashed | |
v.划伤,割破( gash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40 flask | |
n.瓶,火药筒,砂箱 | |
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41 buckled | |
a. 有带扣的 | |
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42 trickled | |
v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 );淌;使)慢慢走;缓慢移动 | |
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43 twitch | |
v.急拉,抽动,痉挛,抽搐;n.扯,阵痛,痉挛 | |
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44 stertorous | |
adj.打鼾的 | |
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45 flickering | |
adj.闪烁的,摇曳的,一闪一闪的 | |
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46 spoke | |
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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47 mumbled | |
含糊地说某事,叽咕,咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48 bruised | |
[医]青肿的,瘀紫的 | |
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49 syllables | |
n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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50 utterance | |
n.用言语表达,话语,言语 | |
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51 stiffened | |
加强的 | |
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52 spasm | |
n.痉挛,抽搐;一阵发作 | |
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53 jaw | |
n.颚,颌,说教,流言蜚语;v.喋喋不休,教训 | |
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54 rattling | |
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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55 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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56 bleak | |
adj.(天气)阴冷的;凄凉的;暗淡的 | |
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57 premature | |
adj.比预期时间早的;不成熟的,仓促的 | |
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58 cataract | |
n.大瀑布,奔流,洪水,白内障 | |
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59 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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60 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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61 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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62 draught | |
n.拉,牵引,拖;一网(饮,吸,阵);顿服药量,通风;v.起草,设计 | |
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63 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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64 torpor | |
n.迟钝;麻木;(动物的)冬眠 | |
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65 haze | |
n.霾,烟雾;懵懂,迷糊;vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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66 talons | |
n.(尤指猛禽的)爪( talon的名词复数 );(如爪般的)手指;爪状物;锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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67 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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68 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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69 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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70 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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71 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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72 granite | |
adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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73 gaping | |
adj.口的;张口的;敞口的;多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 );张开,张大 | |
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74 crooked | |
adj.弯曲的;不诚实的,狡猾的,不正当的 | |
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75 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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76 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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77 slanting | |
倾斜的,歪斜的 | |
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78 dilated | |
adj.加宽的,扩大的v.(使某物)扩大,膨胀,张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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