She had asked the strange man on the door-step, “Who wounded you?”
“The soldiers, senora,” Gaspar Ruiz had answered, in a faint voice.
“Patriots?”
“Si.”
“What for?”
“Deserter,” he gasped5, leaning against the wall under the scrutiny6 of her black eyes. “I was left for dead over there.”
She led him through the house out to a small hut of clay and reeds, lost in the long grass of the overgrown orchard7. He sank on a heap of maize8 straw in a corner, and sighed profoundly.
“No one will look for you here,” she said, looking down at him. “Nobody comes near us. We too have been left for dead—here.”
He stirred uneasily on his heap of dirty straw, and the pain in his neck made him groan9 deliriously10.
He accepted her assistance in silence, and the many days of pain went by. Her appearances in the hut brought him relief and became connected with the feverish12 dreams of angels which visited his couch; for Gaspar Ruiz was instructed in the mysteries of his religion, and had even been taught to read and write a little by the priest of his village. He waited for her with impatience13, and saw her pass out of the dark hut and disappear in the brilliant sunshine with poignant14 regret. He discovered that, while he lay there feeling so very weak, he could, by closing his eyes, evoke15 her face with considerable distinctness. And this discovered faculty16 charmed the long solitary17 hours of his convalescence18. Later, when he began to regain19 his strength, he would creep at dusk from his hut to the house and sit on the step of the garden door.
In one of the rooms the mad father paced to and fro, muttering to himself with short abrupt20 laughs. In the passage, sitting on a stool, the mother sighed and moaned. The daughter, in rough threadbare clothing, and her white haggard face half hidden by a coarse manta, stood leaning against the lintel of the door. Gaspar Ruiz, with his elbows propped21 on his knees and his head resting in his hands, talked to the two women in an undertone.
The common misery22 of destitution23 would have made a bitter mockery of a marked insistence24 on social differences. Gaspar Ruiz understood this in his simplicity25. From his captivity26 amongst the Royalists he could give them news of people they knew. He described their appearance; and when he related the story of the battle in which he was recaptured the two women lamented27 the blow to their cause and the ruin of their secret hopes.
He had no feeling either way. But he felt a great devotion for that young girl. In his desire to appear worthy28 of her condescension29, he boasted a little of his bodily strength. He had nothing else to boast of. Because of that quality his comrades treated him with as great a deference30, he explained, as though he had been a sergeant31, both in camp and in battle.
“I could always get as many as I wanted to follow me anywhere, senorita. I ought to have been made an officer, because I can read and write.”
Behind him the silent old lady fetched a moaning sigh from time to time; the distracted father muttered to himself, pacing the sala; and Gaspar Ruiz would raise his eyes now and then to look at the daughter of these people.
He would look at her with curiosity because she was alive, and also with that feeling of familiarity and awe32 with which he had contemplated33 in churches the inanimate and powerful statues of the saints, whose protection is invoked34 in dangers and difficulties. His difficulty was very great.
He could not remain hiding in an orchard for ever and ever. He knew also very well that before he had gone half a day’s journey in any direction, he would be picked up by one of the cavalry35 patrols scouring36 the country, and brought into one or another of the camps where the patriot4 army destined37 for the liberation of Peru was collected. There he would in the end be recognised as Gaspar Ruiz—the deserter to the Royalists—and no doubt shot very effectually this time. There did not seem any place in the world for the innocent Gaspar Ruiz anywhere. And at this thought his simple soul surrendered itself to gloom and resentment38 as black as night.
They had made him a soldier forcibly. He did not mind being a soldier. And he had been a good soldier as he had been a good son, because of his docility39 and his strength. But now there was no use for either. They had taken him from his parents, and he could no longer be a soldier—not a good soldier at any rate. Nobody would listen to his explanations. What injustice40 it was! What injustice!
And in a mournful murmur41 he would go over the story of his capture and recapture for the twentieth time. Then, raising his eyes to the silent girl in the doorway42, “Si, senorita,” he would say with a deep sigh, “injustice has made this poor breath in my body quite worthless to me and to anybody else. And I do not care who robs me of it.”
One evening, as he exhaled43 thus the plaint of his wounded soul, she condescended44 to say that, if she were a man, she would consider no life worthless which held the possibility of revenge.
She seemed to be speaking to herself. Her voice was low. He drank in the gentle, as if dreamy sound, with a consciousness of peculiar45 delight, of something warming his breast like a draught46 of generous wine.
“True, senorita,” he said, raising his face up to hers slowly: “there is Estaban, who must be shown that I am not dead after all.”
The mutterings of the mad father had ceased long before; the sighing mother had withdrawn47 somewhere into one of the empty rooms. All was still within as well as without, in the moonlight bright as day on the wild orchard full of inky shadows. Gaspar Ruiz saw the dark eyes of Doña Erminia look down at him.
“Ala! The sergeant,” she muttered disdainfully.
“Why! He has wounded me with his sword,” he protested, bewildered by the contempt that seemed to shine livid on her pale face.
She crushed him with her glance. The power of her will to be understood was so strong that it kindled48 in him the intelligence of unexpressed things.
“What else did you expect me to do?” he cried, as if suddenly driven to despair. “Have I the power to do more? Am I a general with an army at my back?—miserable sinner that I am to be despised by you at last.”
点击收听单词发音
1 surmise | |
v./n.猜想,推测 | |
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2 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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3 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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4 patriot | |
n.爱国者,爱国主义者 | |
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5 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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6 scrutiny | |
n.详细检查,仔细观察 | |
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7 orchard | |
n.果园,果园里的全部果树,(美俚)棒球场 | |
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8 maize | |
n.玉米 | |
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9 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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10 deliriously | |
adv.谵妄(性);发狂;极度兴奋/亢奋;说胡话 | |
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11 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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12 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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13 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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14 poignant | |
adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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15 evoke | |
vt.唤起,引起,使人想起 | |
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16 faculty | |
n.才能;学院,系;(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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17 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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18 convalescence | |
n.病后康复期 | |
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19 regain | |
vt.重新获得,收复,恢复 | |
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20 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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21 propped | |
支撑,支持,维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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23 destitution | |
n.穷困,缺乏,贫穷 | |
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24 insistence | |
n.坚持;强调;坚决主张 | |
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25 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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26 captivity | |
n.囚禁;被俘;束缚 | |
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27 lamented | |
adj.被哀悼的,令人遗憾的v.(为…)哀悼,痛哭,悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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29 condescension | |
n.自以为高人一等,贬低(别人) | |
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30 deference | |
n.尊重,顺从;敬意 | |
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31 sergeant | |
n.警官,中士 | |
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32 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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33 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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34 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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35 cavalry | |
n.骑兵;轻装甲部队 | |
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36 scouring | |
擦[洗]净,冲刷,洗涤 | |
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37 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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38 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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39 docility | |
n.容易教,易驾驶,驯服 | |
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40 injustice | |
n.非正义,不公正,不公平,侵犯(别人的)权利 | |
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41 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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42 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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43 exhaled | |
v.呼出,发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 );吐出(肺中的空气、烟等),呼气 | |
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44 condescended | |
屈尊,俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 ); 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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45 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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46 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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47 withdrawn | |
vt.收回;使退出;vi.撤退,退出 | |
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48 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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