Provided her emotions inspire her, a woman is strong; let her take to logic3, and she is a rushlight wavering in the wind. In her red heart lies her divinity; her feet are of clay when reason rules her head.
The girl Yeoland took doubt to her chamber4 that night, a malicious5 sprite, sharp of wit and wild of eye. All the demons6 of discord7 were loosed in the silence of the night. Pandora's box stood open, and the hours were void of sleep; faces crowded the shadows, voices wailed8 in the gloom. Her thoughts rioted like frightened bats fluttering and squeaking9 round a torch. Sleep, like a pale Cassandra, stood aloof10 and watched the mask of these manifold emotions.
Turn and twist as she would amid her fevered pillows, a wild voice haunted her, importunate11 and piteous. As the cry of one sinking in a stormy sea, it rang out with a passionate12 vehemence13. Moreover, there was a subtle echo in her own heart, a strong appeal that did not spare her, toss and struggle as she would. Decision fluttered like a wounded bird. Malevolence14 rushed back as an ocean billow from the bastion of a cliff that emblemed mercy.
With a beating of wings and a discordant15 clamour, a screech-owl buffeted16 the casement17. A lamp still burnt beneath the crucifix; the glow had beaconed the bird out of the night. Starting up with a shiver of fear, she quenched18 the lamp, and crept back to bed. The darkness seemed to smother19 her like a cloak; the silence took to ghostly whisperings; a death-watch clicked against the wall.
The night crawled on like a funeral cortège. Baffled, outfaced, sleepless20, she rose from her tumbled bed, and paced the room as in a fever. Still wakefulness and a thousand dishevelled thoughts that hung about her like her snoodless hair. Again and again, she heard the distant whirr and rattle21 of wheels, the clangour of the wire, as the antique clock in Fulviac's chamber smote22 away the hours of night. Each echo of the sound seemed to spur to the quick her wavering resolution. Time was flying, jostling her thoughts as in a mill race. With the dawn, the Lord Flavian would die.
Anon she flung the casement wide and stared out into the night. A calm breeze moved amid the masses of ivy23, and played upon her face. She bared her breast to its breath, and stood motionless with head thrown back, her white throat glimmering24 amid her hair. Below, the sombre multitudes of the trees showed dim and ghostly, deep with mystery. A vague wind stirred the branches; the dark void swirled26 with unrest, breaking like a midnight sea upon a cliff. A few straggling stars peeped through the lattice of the sky.
She leant against the sill, rested her chin upon her palms, and brooded. Thoughts, fierce, passionate, and clamorous27, came crying like gusts28 of wind through a ruined house. Death and dead faces, blood, the yawn of sepulchres, life and the joy of it, all these passed as visions of fire before her fancy. Vengeance29 and pity agonised her soul. She answered yea and nay30 with the same breath; condemned31 and pardoned with contradicting zeal32. Youth lifted up its face to her, piteous and beautiful. Death reached out a rattling33 hand into her bosom34.
Presently, a far glow began to creep into the sky; a gradual greyness absorbed the shadows of the night. The day was dawning. From the forest, the trembling orisons of the birds thrilled like golden light into the air. Unutterable joy seemed to flood forth35 from the piping throats. Even the trees seemed to quiver to the sound. With a rush of bitter passion, she closed the casement, cast herself upon her bed, and strove to pray.
Again came the impotent groping into nothingness. A dense36 mist seemed to rise betwixt her soul and the white face of the Madonna. Aspiration37 lessened38 like an afterglow, and dissolved away into a dark void of doubt. Prayer eluded39 her; the utterances40 of her heart died in a miserable41 endeavour, and she could not think.
The spiritual storm wore itself away as the dawn streamed in with a glimmer25 of gold. Yeoland lay and stared at the casement, and the figure of Sebastian rendered radiant by the dawn, the whiteness of his limbs tongued with dusky rills of blood, where the barbs42 had smitten43 into the flesh. Sombre were the eyes, and shadowy with suffering. A halo of gold gilded44 the youthful face. The painted glass about him blazed like a shower of gems45.
The Sebastian of the casement recalled to her with wizard power the face of the man whom death claimed at dawn. The thought woke no new passion in her. The night's vigil had left her reason like a skein of tangled46 silk, and with the day she verged47 towards a wearied apathy48. The voice of pity in her waned49 to an infrequent whisper that came like the rustling50 of leaves on a summer night. She realised that it had dawned an hour or more; that the man had knelt and fallen to Nord's sword.
Suddenly the silence was snapped by a far outcry sounding in the bowels51 of the cliff. Gruff voices seemed to echo and re-echo like breakers in a cavern52. A horn blared. She heard the thudding of a door, the shrilling53 of mail, the clangour of iron steps passing up the gallery.
Shivering, she raised herself upon her elbow to listen. Were they bringing her the man's head, grey and blood-dabbled, with closed lids and mangled55 neck? She fell back again upon her pillows, pressed her hands to her face with a great revulsion of pity, for the image had burnt in upon her brain.
The clangour of harness drew near, with an iron rhythm as of the march of destiny. It ceased outside the door. A heavy hand beat upon the panelling.
"Who knocks?"
Her own voice, strained and shrill54, startled her like an owl's hoot56. Fulviac's deep bass57 answered her from the passage.
"Unbar to me, I must speak with you."
She started up from the bed in passionless haste, ran to a closet, drew out a cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders. Her bare feet showed white under her night-gear as she slid the bolt from its socket58, and let the man in. He was fully59 armed save for his salade, which he carried in the hollow of his arm. His red cloak swept his heels. A tower of steel, there was a clangorous bluster60 about him that bespoke61 action.
The girl had drawn62 apart, shivering, and gathering63 her cloak about her, for in the gloom of the place she had thought for an instant that Fulviac carried a mangled head.
"A rider has brought news," he said to her. "John of Brissac's men have taken Prosper64 the Preacher, to hang him, as their lord has vowed65, over the gate of Fontenaye. They are on the march home from Gilderoy, ten lances and a company of arbalestiers. I ride to ambuscado them. Prosper shall not hang!"
She stood with her back to the casement, and looked at him with a restless stare. Her thoughts were with the man whose grey eyes had pleaded with her through the night. Her fears clamoured like captives at the gate of a dungeon66.
"What is more, this vagabond of Avalon has been begging twelve hours' grace to scrape his soul clean for Peter."
"I will give him till sunset----"
"If I suffer it----"
"The dog has spirit. I would thrust no man into the dark till he has struck a bargain with his own particular saints."
She drew back, sank down into a chair with her hair half hiding her face.
"You are right in being merciful," she said very slowly.
Magic riddle68 of life; rare roseate rod of love. Was it youth leaping towards youth, the cry of the lark69 to the dawn, the crimson70 flowering of a woman's pity? The air seemed woven through with gold. A thousand lutes had sounded in the woods. Voiceless, she sat with flickering71 lids, amazed at the alchemy that had wrought72 ruth out of hate.
Fulviac had drawn back into the gloom of the gallery. He turned suddenly upon his heel, and his scabbard smote and rang against the rock.
"I take all the men I have," he said to her, "even the dotard Jaspar, for he knows the ways. Gregory and Adrian I leave on guard; they are tough gentlemen, and loyal. As for the lordling, he is well shackled73."
"You will return?" she asked him.
"By nightfall, if we prosper; as we shall."
He moved two paces, stayed again in his stride, and flung a last message to her from the black throat of the passage.
"Remember, there is no recantation over this business. The man is my affair as well as yours. He is a power in the south, and would menace us. Remember, he must die."
He turned and left her without more palaver75. She heard him go clanging down the gallery, heard the thunder of a heavy door, the braying76 of a horn. A long while she sat motionless, still as stone, her hands lying idle in her lap. When an hour had passed, the sun smote in, and found her kneeling at her prayer-desk, her breviary dewed with tears.
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1
traitorously
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| 叛逆地，不忠地 | |
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parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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squeaking
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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10
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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11
importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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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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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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malevolence
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| n.恶意，狠毒 | |
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discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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16
buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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17
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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18
quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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19
smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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20
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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21
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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22
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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23
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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24
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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25
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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26
swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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28
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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29
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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30
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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31
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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32
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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33
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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34
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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35
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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36
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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37
aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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38
lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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39
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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40
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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41
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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42
barbs
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| n.（箭头、鱼钩等的）倒钩( barb的名词复数 )；带刺的话；毕露的锋芒；钩状毛 | |
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43
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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44
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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45
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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46
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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47
verged
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| 接近，逼近（verge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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48
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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49
waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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50
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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51
bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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52
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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53
shrilling
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的现在分词 )； 凄厉 | |
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54
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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55
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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56
hoot
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| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
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57
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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58
socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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59
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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60
bluster
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| v.猛刮；怒冲冲的说；n.吓唬，怒号；狂风声 | |
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61
bespoke
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| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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62
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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63
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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64
prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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65
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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66
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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67
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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68
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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69
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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70
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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71
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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72
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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73
shackled
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| 给（某人）带上手铐或脚镣( shackle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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75
palaver
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| adj.壮丽堂皇的；n.废话，空话 | |
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76
braying
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| v.发出驴叫似的声音( bray的现在分词 )；发嘟嘟声；粗声粗气地讲话（或大笑）；猛击 | |
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