This must have been at about the commencement of my second winter. At the sad hour of twilight2 I was in the dining-room of my parents' house, which room had always seemed a very vast one to me. At first, I was quiet, made so, no doubt, by the influence of the environing darkness, for the lamp was not yet lighted. But as the hour for dinner approached, a maid-servant came in and threw an armful of small wood into the fireplace to reanimate the dying fire. Immediately there was a beautiful bright light, and the leaping flames illuminated3 everything, and waves of light spread to the far part of the room where I sat. The flames danced and leaped with a twining motion ever higher and higher and more gayly, and the tremulous shadows along the wall ran to their hiding-places—oh! how quickly I arose overwhelmed with admiration4 for I recollect5 that I had been sitting at the feet of my great-aunt Bertha (at that time already very old) who half dozed6 in her chair. We were near a window through which the gray night filtered; I was seated upon one of those high, old-fashioned foot-stools with two steps, so convenient for little children who can from that vantage ground put their heads in grandmother's or grand-aunt's lap, and wheedle7 so effectually.
I arose in ecstasy8, and approached the flames; then in the circle of light which lay upon the carpet I began to walk around and around and to turn. Ever faster and faster I went, until suddenly I felt an unwonted elasticity9 run through my limbs, and in a twinkling I invented a new and amusing style of motion; it was to push my feet very hard against the floor, and then to lift them up together suddenly for a half second. When I fell, up I sprang and recommenced my play. Bang! Bang! With every increasing noise I went against the floor, and at last I began to feel a singular but agreeable giddiness in my head. I knew how to jump! I knew how to run!
I am convinced that that is my earliest distinct recollection of great joyousness10.
“Dear me! What is the matter with the child this evening?” asked my great-aunt Bertha, with some anxiety. And I hear again the unexpected sound of her voice.
But I still kept on jumping. Like those tiny foolish moths11 which of an evening revolve12 about the light of a lamp, I went around in the luminous13 circle which widened and retracted14, ever taking form from the wavering light of the flames. And I remember all of this so vividly15 that my eyes can still see the smallest details of the texture16 of the carpet which was the scene of the event. It was of durable17 stuff called home-spun, woven in the country by native weavers18. (Our house was still furnished as it had been in my maternal19 grandmother's time, as she had arranged it after she had quitted the Island, and come to the mainland.—A little later I will speak of this Island which had already a mysterious attraction for my youthful imagination.—It was a simple country house, notable for its Huguenot austerity; and it was a home where immaculate cleanliness and extreme order were the sole luxuries.)
In the circle of light, which grew ever more and more narrow, I still jumped; but as I did so I had thoughts that were of an intensity20 not habitual21 with me. At the same time that my tiny limbs discovered their power, my spirit also knew itself; a burst of light overspread my mind where dawning ideas still showed forth22 feebly. And it is without doubt to the inner awakening23 that this fleeting24 moment of my life owes its existence, owes undoubtedly25 its permanency in memory. But vainly I seek for the words, that seem ever to escape me, through which to express my elusive26 emotions. . . . Here in the dining-room I look about and see the chairs standing27 the length of the wall, and I am reminded of the aged28 grandmother, grand-aunts and aunts who always come at a certain hour and seat themselves in them. Why are they not here now? At this moment I would like to feel their protecting presence about me. Probably they are upstairs in their rooms on the second floor; between them and me there is the dim stairway, the stairway that I people with shadowy beings the thought of which makes me tremble. . . . And my mother? I would wish most especially for her, but I know that she has gone out, gone out into the long streets which in my imagination have no end. I had myself gone to the door with her and had asked her: “When returnest thou?” And she had promised me that she would return speedily. Later they told me that when I was a child I would never permit any members of the family to leave the house to go walking or visiting without first obtaining their assurance of a speedy homecoming. “You will come back soon?” I would say, and I always asked the question anxiously, as I followed them to the door.
My mother had departed, and it gave my heart a feeling of heaviness to know that she was out. Out in the streets! I was content not to be there where it was cold and dark, where little children so easily lost their way,—how snug29 it was to be within doors before the fire that warmed me through and through; how nice it was to be at home! I had never realized it until this evening—doubtless it was my first distinct feeling of attachment30 to hearth31 and home, and I was sadly troubled at the thought of the immense, strange world lying beyond the door. It was then that I had, for the first time, a conscious affection for my aged aunts and grand-aunts, who cared for me in infancy32, whom I longed to have seated around me at this dim, sad, twilight hour.
In the meantime the once bright and playful flames had died down, the armful of wood was consumed, and as the lamp was not lighted, the room was quite dark. I had already stumbled upon the home-spun carpet, but as I had not hurt myself, I recommenced my amusing play. For an instant I thought to experience a new but strange joy by going into the shadowy and distant recesses33 of the room; but I was overtaken there by an indefinable terror of something which I cannot name, and I hastily took refuge in the dim circle of light and looked behind me with a shudder34 to see whether anything had followed me from out of those dark corners. Finally the flames died away entirely35, and I was really afraid; aunt Bertha sat motionless upon her chair, and although I felt that her eyes were upon me I was not reassured36. The very chairs, the chairs ranged about the room, began to disquiet37 me because their long shadows, that stretched behind them exaggerating the height of ceiling and length of wall, moved restlessly like souls in the agonies of death. And especially there was a half-open door that led into a very dark hall, which in its turn opened into a large empty parlor38 absolutely dark. Oh! with what intensity I fixed39 my eyes upon that door to which I would not for the world have turned my back!
This was the beginning of those daily winter-evening terrors which in that beloved home cast such a gloom over my childhood.
What I feared to see enter that door had no well defined form, but the fear was none the less definite to me: and it kept me standing motionless near the dead fire with wide open eyes and fluttering heart. When my mother suddenly entered the room by a different door, oh! how I clung to her and covered my face with her dress: it was a supreme40 protection, the sanctuary41 where no harm could reach me, the harbor of harbors where the storm is forgotten. . . .
At this instant the thread of recollection breaks, I can follow it no farther.
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1
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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2
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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3
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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4
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wheedle
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| v.劝诱，哄骗 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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joyousness
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| 快乐，使人喜悦 | |
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moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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revolve
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| vi.(使)旋转；循环出现 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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retracted
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| v.撤回或撤消( retract的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝执行或遵守；缩回；拉回 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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durable
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| adj.持久的，耐久的 | |
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weavers
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| 织工，编织者( weaver的名词复数 ) | |
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19
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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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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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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32
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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33
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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34
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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36
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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disquiet
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| n.担心，焦虑 | |
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38
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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39
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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40
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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41
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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