After our dinner, at dusk, we were taken out for a walk. But, to my surprise and sorrow, we found it chilly6 and the sky was overcast7, and every where there was a sort of mist that recalled winter to my mind. Instead of going beyond the town, to the places usually frequented by pedestrians8, we went towards the Marine9 Garden, a much prettier and more suitable walk, but one usually deserted10 after sunset.
We went down the long straight street without meeting any one; as we drew near the “Chapel11 of the Orphans” we heard those within chanting a psalm12. When that was finished a procession of little girls filed out. They were dressed in white, and they looked very cold in their spring muslins. After making a circuit of the lonely quarter, chanting meanwhile a melancholy13 hymn14, they noiselessly re-entered the chapel. There was no one in the street to see them save ourselves, and the thought came to me that neither was there any one in the gray heavens above to see them; the overcast sky seemed as lonely as the solitary15 street. That little band of orphaned16 children intensified17 my feeling of sorrow and added to the disenchantment of the May night, and I had a consciousness of the vanity of prayer, of the emptiness of all things.
In the Marine Garden my sadness increased. It was extremely cold, and we shivered in our light spring wraps. There was not a single promenader to be seen. The large chestnut18 trees all abloom and the foliage19, in the glory of its tender hue20, formed a feathery green and white avenue—emptiness was here too; all of this intertwined magnificence of branch and flower, seen of no one, unfolded itself to the indifferent sky that stretched above it cold and gray. And in the long flower beds there was a profusion21 of roses, peonies and lilies that seemed also to have mistaken the season, for they appeared to shiver, as we did, in the chill twilight22.
I have found that the melancholy one sometimes feels in the springtime usually transcends23 that felt in autumn, for the reason, doubtless, that the former is so out of harmony with the promise of the season.
The demoralized state into which I was thrown by everything about me gave me a longing24 to play a boyish trick upon Jeanne. There came to me a desire (one that I frequently felt) to have some sort of revenge upon her, because her disposition25 was so much more mature and yet more sprightly26 than mine. I induced her to lean over and smell the lovely lilies, and while she was doing so I, by giving her head a very slight push, buried her nose deep in the flowers and it became covered with yellow pollen27. She was indignant! And the thought that I had acted so rudely tended to make the walk home a very painful one.
The beautiful evenings of May! Had I not cherished memories of those of preceding years, or had they in truth been like this one? Like this one in the cold and lonely garden? Had they ended so miserably28 as did this play-day with Jeanne? With a feeling of mortal weariness I said to myself: “And is this all!” an exclamation29 which soon afterwards became one of my most frequent unspoken reflections, a phrase indeed that I might well have taken for my motto.
When we returned I went to the wooden box to inspect our afternoon's work, and as I did so I inhaled30 the balsamic odor that had impregnated everything belonging to our theatre. For a long time after that, for a year or two, perhaps longer, the odor of the pine box containing the properties of the “Donkey's Skin” recalled vividly31 that May evening so filled with poignant32 sorrow, which was one of the most singular feelings of my childhood. Since I have come to man's estate I no longer suffer from anguish33 that has no known cause, doubly hard to endure because mysterious, I no longer feel as if my feet are treading unfathomable depths in search of a firm bottom. I no longer suffer without knowing why. No, such emotions belonged peculiarly to my childhood, and this book could properly bear the title (a dangerous one I well know): “A Journal of my extreme and inexplicable34 sorrows, and some of the boyish pranks35 by which I diverted my mind from them.”
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1 jointed | |
有接缝的 | |
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2 gilt | |
adj.镀金的;n.金边证券 | |
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3 consecrated | |
adj.神圣的,被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣,给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 );奉献 | |
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4 penetrating | |
adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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5 resinous | |
adj.树脂的,树脂质的,树脂制的 | |
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6 chilly | |
adj.凉快的,寒冷的 | |
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7 overcast | |
adj.阴天的,阴暗的,愁闷的;v.遮盖,(使)变暗,包边缝;n.覆盖,阴天 | |
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8 pedestrians | |
n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
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9 marine | |
adj.海的;海生的;航海的;海事的;n.水兵 | |
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10 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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11 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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12 psalm | |
n.赞美诗,圣诗 | |
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13 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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14 hymn | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌 | |
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15 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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16 orphaned | |
[计][修]孤立 | |
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17 intensified | |
v.(使)增强, (使)加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18 chestnut | |
n.栗树,栗子 | |
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19 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
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20 hue | |
n.色度;色调;样子 | |
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21 profusion | |
n.挥霍;丰富 | |
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22 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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23 transcends | |
超出或超越(经验、信念、描写能力等)的范围( transcend的第三人称单数 ); 优于或胜过… | |
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24 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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25 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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26 sprightly | |
adj.愉快的,活泼的 | |
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27 pollen | |
n.[植]花粉 | |
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28 miserably | |
adv.痛苦地;悲惨地;糟糕地;极度地 | |
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29 exclamation | |
n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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30 inhaled | |
v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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32 poignant | |
adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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33 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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34 inexplicable | |
adj.无法解释的,难理解的 | |
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35 pranks | |
n.玩笑,恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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