And happiness seemed the right expression for that wonderful face, stamped with dignity and with that particular modesty4 which gives to some women, whether stricken by excessive misfortune or preserved by love, the habit of gravity, combined with an absence of all feminine affectation.
Her black hair, touched with grey at the temples, was knotted very low down on the neck. She had the dead-white complexion5 of a southerner and very light blue eyes, of which the white seemed almost of the same colour, pale as a winter sky. She was tall, with broad shoulders and a well-shaped bust6.
Her musical and somewhat masculine voice became light and cheerful when she spoke7 of the son whom she had found again. And Véronique could speak of nothing else. In vain the Breton woman tried to speak of the problems that harassed8 her and kept on interrupting Véronique:
"Look here, there are two things which I cannot understand. Who laid the trail with the clues that brought you from Le Faouet to the exact spot where[Pg 44] I always land? It almost makes one believe that someone had been from Le Faouet to the Isle9 of Sarek. And, on the other hand, how did old Maguennoc come to leave the island? Was it of his own free will? Or was it his dead body that they carried? If so, how?"
"Is it worth troubling about?" Véronique objected.
"Certainly it is. Just think! Besides me, who once a fortnight go either to Beg-Meil or Pont-l'Abbé in my motor-boat for provisions, there are only two fishing-boats, which always go much higher up the coast, to Audierne, where they sell their catch. Then how did Maguennoc get across? Then again, did he commit suicide? But, if so, how did his body disappear?"
But Véronique protested:
"Please don't! It doesn't matter for the moment. It'll all be cleared up. Tell me about François. You were saying that he came to Sarek . . ."
Honorine yielded to Véronique's entreaties10:
"He arrived in poor Maguennoc's arms, a few days after he was taken from you. Maguennoc, who had been taught his lesson by your father, said that a strange lady had entrusted11 him with the child; and he had it nursed by his daughter, who has since died. I was away, in a situation with a Paris family. When I came home again, François had grown into a fine little fellow, running about the moors12 and cliffs. It was then that I took service with your father, who had settled in Sarek. When Maguennoc's daughter died, we took the child to live with us."
[Pg 45]"But under what name?"
"François, just François. M. d'Hergemont was known as Monsieur Antoine. François called him grandfather. No one ever made any remark upon it."
"And his character?" asked Véronique, with some anxiety.
"Oh, as far as that's concerned, he's a blessing13!" replied Honorine. "Nothing of his father about him . . . nor of his grandfather either, as M. d'Hergemont himself admits. A gentle, lovable, most willing child. Never a sign of anger; always good-tempered. That's what got over his grandfather and made M. d'Hergemont come round to you again, because his grandson reminded him so of the daughter he had cast off. 'He's the very image of his mother,' he used to say. 'Véronique was gentle and affectionate like him, with the same fond and coaxing14 ways.' And then he began his search for you, with me to help him; for he had come to confide15 in me."
Véronique beamed with delight. Her son was like her! Her son was bright and kind-hearted!
"But does he know about me?" she said. "Does he know that I'm alive?"
"I should think he did! M. d'Hergemont tried to keep it from him at first. But I soon told him everything."
"Everything?"
"No. He believes that his father is dead and that, after the shipwreck16 in which he, I mean François, and M. d'Hergemont disappeared, you became a nun17 and have been lost sight of since. And he is so eager for news, each time I come back[Pg 46] from one of my trips! He too is so full of hope! Oh, you can take my word for it, he adores his mother! And he's always singing that song you heard just now, which his grandfather taught him."
"My François, my own little François!"
"Ah, yes, he loves you! There's Mother Honorine. But you're mother, just that. And he's in a great hurry to grow up and finish his schooling18, so that he may go and look for you."
"His schooling? Does he have lessons?"
"Yes, with his grandfather and, since two years ago, with such a nice fellow that I brought back from Paris, Stéphane Maroux, a wounded soldier covered with medals and restored to health after an internal operation. François dotes on him."
The boat was running quickly over the smooth sea, in which it ploughed a furrow19 of silvery foam20. The clouds had dispersed21 on the horizon. The evening boded22 fair and calm.
"More, tell me more!" said Véronique, listening greedily. "What does my boy wear?"
"Knickerbockers and short socks, with his calves23 bare; a thick flannel24 shirt with gilt25 buttons; and a flat knitted cap, like his big friend, M. Stéphane; only his is red and suits him to perfection."
"Has he any friends besides M. Maroux?"
"All the growing lads of the island, formerly26. But with the exception of three or four ship's boys, all the rest have left the island with their mothers, now that their fathers are at the war, and are working on the mainland, at Concarneau or Lorient, leaving the old people at Sarek by themselves. We are not more than thirty on the island now."
[Pg 47]"Whom does he play with? Whom does he go about with?"
"Oh, as for that, he has the best of companions!"
"Really? Who is it?"
"A little dog that Maguennoc gave him."
"A dog?"
"Yes; and the funniest dog you ever saw: an ugly ridiculous-looking thing, a cross between a poodle and a fox-terrier, but so comical and amusing! Oh, there's no one like Master All's Well!"
"All's Well?"
"That's what François calls him; and you couldn't have a better name for him. He always looks happy and glad to be alive. He's independent, too, and he disappears for hours and even days at a time; but he's always there when he's wanted, if you're feeling sad, or if things aren't going as you might like them to. All's Well hates to see any one crying or scolding or quarrelling. The moment you cry, or pretend to cry, he comes and squats27 on his haunches in front of you, sits up, shuts one eye, half-opens the other and looks so exactly as if he was laughing that you begin to laugh yourself. 'That's right, old chap,' says François, 'you're quite right: all's well. There's nothing to take on about, is there?' And, when you're consoled, All's Well just trots28 away. His task is done."
Véronique laughed and cried in one breath. Then she was silent for a long time, feeling more and more gloomy and overcome by a despair which overwhelmed all her gladness. She thought of all the happiness that she had missed during the fourteen years of her childless motherhood, wearing her mourning for a son who was alive. All the cares[Pg 48] that a mother lavishes29 upon the little creature new-born into the world, all the pride that she feels at seeing him grow and hearing him speak, all that delights a mother and uplifts her and makes her heart overflow30 with daily renewed affection: all this she had never known.
"We are half-way across," said Honorine.
They were running in sight of the Glenans Islands. On their right, the headland of Penmarch, whose coast-line they were following at a distance of fifteen miles, marked a darker line which was not always differentiated31 from the horizon.
And Véronique thought of her sad past, of her mother, whom she hardly remembered, of her childhood spent with a selfish, disagreeable father, of her marriage, ah, above all of her marriage! She recalled her first meetings with Vorski, when she was only seventeen. How frightened she had been from the very beginning of that strange and unusual man, whom she dreaded32 while she submitted to his influence, as one does at that age submit to the influence of anything mysterious and incomprehensible!
Next came the hateful day of the abduction and the other days, more hateful still, that followed, the weeks during which he had kept her imprisoned33, threatening her and dominating her with all his evil strength, and the promise of marriage which he had forced from her, a pledge against which all the girl's instincts and all her will revolted, but to which it seemed to her that she was bound to agree after so great a scandal and also because her father was giving his consent.
Her brain rebelled against the memories of her[Pg 49] years of married life. Never that! Not even in the worst hours, when the nightmares of the past haunt one like spectres, never did she consent to revive, in the innermost recesses35 of her mind, that degrading past, with its mortifications, wounds and betrayals, and the disgraceful life led by her husband, who, shamelessly, with cynical36 pride, gradually revealed himself as the man he was, drinking, cheating at cards, robbing his boon37 companions, a swindler and blackmailer38, giving his wife the impression, which she still retained and which made her shudder39, of a sort of evil genius, cruel and unbalanced.
"Have done with dreams, Madame Véronique," said Honorine.
"Remorse, Madame Véronique? You, whose life has been one long martyrdom?"
"A martyrdom that was a punishment."
"But all that is over and done with, Madame Véronique, seeing that you are going to meet your son and your father again. Come, come, you must think of nothing but being happy."
"Happy? Can I be happy again?"
"I should think so! You'll soon see! . . . Look, there's Sarek."
Honorine took from a locker41 under her seat a large shell which she used as a trumpet42, after the manner of the mariners43 of old, and, putting her lips to the mouthpiece and puffing44 out her cheeks, she blew a few powerful notes, which filled the air with a sound not unlike the lowing of an ox.
Véronique gave her a questioning look.
[Pg 50]"It's him I'm calling," said Honorine.
"François? You're calling François?"
"Yes, it's the same every time I come back. He comes scrambling45 from the top of the cliffs where we live and runs down to the jetty."
"So I shall see him?" exclaimed Véronique, turning very pale.
"You will see him. Fold your veil double, so that he may not know you from your photographs. I'll speak to you as I would to a stranger who has come to look at Sarek."
They could see the island distinctly, but the foot of the cliffs was hidden by a multitude of reefs.
"Ah, yes, there's no lack of rocks! They swarm46 like a shoal of herring!" cried Honorine, who had been obliged to switch off the motor and was using two short paddles. "You know how calm the sea was just now. It's never calm here."
Thousands and thousands of little waves were dashing and clashing against one another and waging an incessant47 and implacable war upon the rocks. The boat seemed to be passing through the backwater of a torrent48. Nowhere was a strip of blue or green sea visible amid the bubbling foam. There was nothing but white froth, whipped up by the indefatigable49 swirl50 of the forces which desperately51 assailed52 the pointed53 teeth of the reefs.
"And it's like that all round the island," said Honorine, "so much so that you may say that Sarek isn't accessible except in a small boat. Ah, the Huns could never have established a submarine base on our island! To make quite sure and remove all doubts, some officers came over from Lorient, two years ago, because of a few caves on the west, which[Pg 51] can only be entered at low tide. It was waste of time. There was nothing doing here. Just think, it's like a sprinkle of rocks all around; and pointed rocks at that, which get at you treacherously54 from underneath55. And, though these are the most dangerous, perhaps it is the others that are most to be feared, the big ones which you see and have got their name and their history from all sorts of crimes and shipwrecks56. Oh, as to those! . . ."
Her voice grew hollow. With a hesitating hand, which seemed afraid of the half-completed gesture, she pointed to some reefs which stood up in powerful masses of different shapes, crouching57 animals, crenellated keeps, colossal58 needles, sphynx-heads, jagged pyramids, all in black granite59 stained with red, as though soaked in blood.
And she whispered:
"Oh, as to those, they have been guarding the island for centuries and centuries, but like wild beasts that only care for doing harm and killing60. They . . . they . . . no, it's better never to speak about them or even think of them. They are the thirty wild beasts. Yes, thirty, Madame Véronique, there are thirty of them . . . ."
She made the sign of the cross and continued, more calmly:
"There are thirty of them. Your father says that Sarek is called the island of the thirty coffins62 because the people instinctively63 ended in this case by confusing the two words écueils and cercueils. Perhaps . . . . It's very likely . . . . But, all the same, they are thirty real coffins, Madame Véronique; and, if we could open them, we should be sure to find them full of bones and bones and bones. M. d'Hergemont himself says that Sarek comes from the word Sarcophagus, which, according to him, is the learned way of saying coffin61. Besides, there's more than that . . . ."
[1] "Reefs" and "coffins."—Translator's Note.
Honorine broke off, as though she wanted to think of something else, and, pointing to a reef of rocks, said:
"Look, Madame Véronique, past that big one right in our way there, you will see, through an opening, our little harbour and, on the quay64, François in his red cap."
Véronique had been listening absent-mindedly to Honorine's explanations. She leant her body farther out of the boat, in order to catch sight the sooner of her son, while the Breton woman, once more a victim to her obsession65, continued, in spite of herself:
"There's more than that. The Isle of Sarek—and that is why your father came to live here—contains a collection of dolmens which have nothing remarkable66 about them, but which are peculiar67 for one reason, that they are all nearly alike. Well, how many of them do you think there are? Thirty! Thirty, like the principal reefs. And those thirty are distributed round the islands, on the cliffs, exactly opposite the thirty reefs; and each of them bears the same name as the reef that corresponds to it: Dol-er-H'roeck, Dol-Kerlitu and so on. What do you say to that?"
She had uttered these names in the same timid voice in which she spoke of all these things, as if she feared to be heard by the things themselves, to which she was attributing a formidable and sacred life.
"What do you say to that, Madame Véronique? Oh, there's plenty of mystery about it all; and, once more, it's better to hold one's tongue! I'll tell you about it when we've left here, right away from the island, and when your little François is in your arms, between your father and you."
Véronique sat silent, gazing into space at the spot to which Honorine had pointed. With her back turned to her companion and her two hands gripping the gunwale, she stared distractedly before her. It was there, through that narrow opening, that she was to see her child, long lost and now found; and she did not want to waste a single second after the moment when she would be able to catch sight of him.
They reached the rock. One of Honorine's paddles grazed its side. They skirted and came to the end of it.
"Oh," said Véronique, sorrowfully, "he is not there!"
"François not there? Impossible!" cried Honorine.
She in her turn saw, three or four hundred yards in front of them, the few big rocks on the beach which served as a jetty. Three women, a little girl and some old seafaring men were waiting for the boat, but no boy, no red cap.
"That's strange," said Honorine, in a low voice. "It's the first time that he's failed to answer my call."
"Perhaps he's ill?" Véronique suggested.
"No, François is never ill."
"What then?"
"I don't know."
"But aren't you afraid?" asked Véronique, who was already becoming frightened.
"For him, no . . . but for your father. Maguennoc said that I oughtn't to leave him. It's he who is threatened."
"But François is there to defend him; and so is M. Maroux, his tutor. Come, answer me: what do you imagine?"
"A pack of nonsense! I get absurd, yes, absurd things into my head. Don't be angry with me. I can't help it: it's the Breton in me. Except for a few years, I have spent all my life here, with legends and stories in the very air I breathed. Don't let's talk about it."
The Isle of Sarek appears in the shape of a long and undulating table-land, covered with ancient trees and standing69 on cliffs of medium height than which nothing more jagged could be imagined. It is as though the island were surrounded by a reef of uneven70, diversified71 lacework, incessantly72 wrought73 upon by the rain, the wind, the sun, the snow, the frost, the mist and all the water that falls from the sky or oozes74 from the earth.
The only accessible point is on the eastern side, at the bottom of a depression where a few houses, mostly abandoned since the war, constitute the village. A break in the cliffs opens here, protected by the little jetty. The sea at this spot is perfectly75 calm.
Before landing, Honorine made a last effort:
"We're there, Madame Véronique, as you see. Now is it really worth your while to get out? Why not stay where you are? I'll bring your father and your son to you in two hours' time and we'll have dinner at Beg-Meil or at Pont-l'Abbé. Will that do?"
Véronique rose to her feet and leapt on to the quay without replying. Honorine joined her and insisted no longer:
"Well, children, where's young François? Hasn't he come?"
"He was here about twelve," said one of the women. "Only he didn't expect you until to-morrow."
"That's true enough . . . but still he must have heard me blow my horn. However, we shall see."
And, as the man helped her to unload the boat, she said:
"I shan't want all this taken up to the Priory. Nor the bags either. Unless . . . Look here, if I am not back by five o'clock, send a youngster after me with the bags."
"As you please, Corréjou. Oh, by the way, where's Maguennoc?"
"Maguennoc's gone. I took him across to Pont-l'Abbé myself."
"When was that, Corréjou?"
"Why, the day after you went, Madame Honorine."
"What was he going over for?"
"He told us he was going . . . I don't know where . . . . It had to do with the hand he lost . . . . a pilgrimage . . . ."
"That's it . . . that's it exactly: St. Barbe's Chapel, that's what he said."
Honorine asked no more. She could no longer doubt that Maguennoc was dead. She moved away, accompanied by Véronique, who had lowered her veil; and the two went along a rocky path, cut into steps, which ran through the middle of an oak-wood towards the southernmost point of the island.
"After all," said Honorine, "I am not sure—and I may as well say so—that M. d'Hergemont will consent to leave. He treats all my stories as crotchets, though there's plenty of things that astonish even him . . . ."
"Does he live far from here?" asked Véronique.
"It's forty minutes' walk. As you will see, it's almost another island, joined to the first. The Benedictines built an abbey there."
"But he's not alone there, is he, with François and M. Maroux?"
"Before the war, there were two men besides. Lately, Maguennoc and I used to do pretty well all the work, with the cook, Marie Le Goff."
"She remained, of course, while you were away?"
"Yes."
They reached the top of the cliffs. The path, which followed the coast, rose and fell in steep gradients. On every hand were old oaks with their bunches of mistletoe, which showed among the as yet scanty79 leaves. The sea, grey-green in the distance, girded the island with a white belt.
Véronique continued:
"What do you propose to do, Honorine?"
"I shall go in by myself and speak to your father. Then I shall come back and fetch you at the garden-gate; and in François' eyes you will pass for a friend of his mother's. He will guess the truth gradually."
"And you think that my father will give me a good welcome?"
"He will receive you with open arms, Madame Véronique," cried the Breton woman, "and we shall all be happy, provided . . . provided nothing has happened . . . It's so funny that François doesn't run out to meet me! He can see our boat from every part of the island . . . as far off as the Glenans almost."
She relapsed into what M. d'Hergemont called her crotchets; and they pursued their road in silence. Véronique felt anxious and impatient.
Suddenly Honorine made the sign of the cross:
"You do as I'm doing, Madame Véronique," she said. "The monks80 have consecrated81 the place, but there's lots of bad, unlucky things remaining from the old days, especially in that wood, the wood of the Great Oak."
The old days no doubt meant the period of the Druids and their human sacrifices; and the two women were now entering a wood in which the oaks, each standing in isolation82 on a mound83 of moss84-grown stones, had a look of ancient gods, each with his own altar, his mysterious cult85 and his formidable power.
Véronique, following Honorine's example, crossed herself and could not help shuddering86 as she said:
"They grow most wonderfully when one takes the trouble. You shall see Maguennoc's, at the end of the island, to the right of the Fairies' Dolmen . . . a place called the Calvary of the Flowers."
"Are they lovely?"
"Wonderful, I tell you. Only he goes himself to get the mould from certain places. He prepares it. He works it up. He mixes it with some special leaves of which he knows the effect." And she repeated, "You shall see Maguennoc's flowers. There are no flowers like them in the world. They are miraculous89 flowers . . . ."
After skirting a hill, the road descended90 a sudden declivity91. A huge gash92 divided the island into two parts, the second of which now appeared, standing a little higher, but very much more limited in extent.
"It's the Priory, that part," said Honorine.
The same jagged cliffs surrounded the smaller islet with an even steeper rampart, which itself was hollowed out underneath like the hoop93 of a crown. And this rampart was joined to the main island by a strip of cliff fifty yards long and hardly thicker than a castle-wall, with a thin, tapering94 crest95 which looked as sharp as the edge of an axe96.
There was no thoroughfare possible along this ridge97, inasmuch as it was split in the middle with a wide fissure98, for which reason the abutments of a wooden bridge had been anchored to the two extremities99. The bridge started flat on the rock and subsequently spanned the intervening crevice100.
They crossed it separately, for it was not only very narrow but also unstable101, shaking under their feet and in the wind.
"Look, over there, at the extreme point of the island," said Honorine, "you can see a corner of the Priory."
The path that led to it ran through fields planted with small fir-trees arranged in quincunxes. Another path turned to the right and disappeared from view in some dense102 thickets103.
Véronique kept her eyes upon the Priory, whose low-storied front was lengthening104 gradually, when Honorine, after a few minutes, stopped short, with her face towards the thickets on the right, and called out:
"Monsieur Stéphane!"
"Whom are you calling?" asked Véronique. "M. Maroux?"
"Yes, François' tutor. He was running towards the bridge: I caught sight of him through a clearing . . . Monsieur Stéphane! . . . But why doesn't he answer? Did you see a man running?"
"No."
"I declare it was he, with his white cap. At any rate, we can see the bridge behind us. Let us wait for him to cross."
"Why wait? If anything's the matter, if there's a danger of any kind, it's at the Priory."
"You're right. Let's hurry."
They hastened their pace, overcome with forebodings; and then, for no definite reason, broke into a run, so greatly did their fears increase as they drew nearer to the reality.
The islet grew narrower again, barred by a low wall which marked the boundaries of the Priory domain105. At that moment, cries were heard, coming from the house.
Honorine exclaimed:
"They're calling! Did you hear? A woman's cries! It's the cook! It's Marie Le Goff! . . ."
She made a dash for the gate and grasped the key, but inserted it so awkwardly that she jammed the lock and was unable to open it.
"Through the gap!" she ordered. "This way, on the right!"
They rushed along, scrambled106 through the wall and crossed a wide grassy107 space filled with ruins, in which the winding108 and ill-marked path disappeared at every moment under trailing creepers and moss.
"Here we are! Here we are!" shouted Honorine. "We're coming!"
And she muttered:
"The cries have stopped! It's dreadful! Oh, poor Marie Le Goff!"
She grasped Véronique's arm:
"Let's go round. The front of the house is on the other side. On this side the doors are always locked and the window-shutters closed."
But Véronique caught her foot in some roots, stumbled and fell to her knees. When she stood up again, the Breton woman had left her and was hurrying round the left wing. Unconsciously, Véronique, instead of following her, made straight for the house, climbed the step and was brought up short by the door, at which she knocked again and again.
The idea of going round, as Honorine had done, seemed to her a waste of time which nothing could ever make good. However, realising the futility109 of her efforts, she was just deciding to go, when once more cries sounded from inside the house and above her head.
It was a man's voice, which Véronique seemed to recognize as her father's. She fell back a few steps. Suddenly one of the windows on the first floor opened and she saw M. d'Hergemont, his features distorted with inexpressible terror, gasping110:
"Help! Help! Oh, the monster! Help!"
"Father! Father!" cried Véronique, in despair. "It's I!"
He lowered his head for an instant, appeared not to see his daughter and made a quick attempt to climb over the balcony. But a shot rang out behind him and one of the window-panes was blown into fragments.
"Murderer, murderer!" he shouted, turning back into the room.
Véronique, mad with fear and helplessness, looked around her. How could she rescue her father? The wall was too high and offered nothing to cling to. Suddenly, she saw a ladder, lying twenty yards away, beside the wall of the house. With a prodigious111 effort of will and strength, she managed to carry the ladder, heavy though it was, and to set it up under the open window.
At the most tragic112 moment in life, when the mind is no more than a seething113 confusion, when the whole body is shaken by the tremor114 of anguish115, a certain logic116 continues to connect our ideas: and Véronique wondered why she had not heard Honorine's voice and what could have delayed her coming.
She also thought of François. Where was François? Had he followed Stéphane Maroux in his inexplicable117 flight? Had he gone in search of assistance? And who was it that M. d'Hergemont had apostrophized as a monster and a murderer?
The ladder did not reach the window; and Véronique at once became aware of the effort which would be necessary if she was to climb over the balcony. Nevertheless she did not hesitate. They were fighting up there; and the struggle was mingled118 with stifled119 shouts uttered by her father. She went up the ladder. The most that she could do was to grasp the bottom rail of the balcony. But a narrow ledge34 enabled her to hoist120 herself on one knee, to put her head through and to witness the tragedy that was being enacted121 in the room.
At that moment, M. d'Hergemont had once more retreated to the window and even a little beyond it, so that she almost saw him face to face. He stood without moving, haggard-eyed and with his arms hanging in an undecided posture122, as though waiting for something terrible to happen. He stammered123:
"Murderer! Murderer! . . . Is it really you? Oh, curse you! François! François!"
He was no doubt calling upon his grandson for help; and François no doubt was also exposed to some attack, was perhaps wounded, was possibly dead!
Véronique summoned up all her strength and succeeded in setting foot on the ledge.
"Here I am! Here I am!" she meant to cry.
But her voice died away in her throat. She had seen! She saw! Facing her father, at a distance of five paces, against the opposite wall of the room, stood some one pointing a revolver at M. d'Hergemont and deliberately124 taking aim. And that some one was . . . oh, horror! Véronique recognized the red cap of which Honorine had spoken, the flannel shirt with the gilt buttons. And above all she beheld125, in that young face convulsed with hideous126 emotions, the very expression which Vorski used to wear at times when his instincts, hatred127 and ferocity, gained the upper hand.
The boy did not see her. His eyes were fixed128 on the mark which he proposed to hit; and he seemed to take a sort of savage129 joy in postponing130 the fatal act.
Véronique herself was silent. Words or cries could not possibly avert131 the peril132. What she had to do was to fling herself between her father and her son. She clutched hold of the railings, clambered up and climbed through the window.
And, at the same time, at that very moment, while the boy still had his arm outstretched and the old man was sinking into a huddled134 heap, a door opened at the back. Honorine appeared; and the abominable135 sight struck her, so to speak, full in the face.
"François!" she screamed. "You! You!"
The boy sprang at her. The woman tried to bar his way. There was not even a struggle. The boy took a step back, quickly raised his weapon and fired.
Honorine's knees gave way beneath her and she fell across the threshold. And, as he jumped over her body and fled, she kept on repeating:
"François . . . . François . . . . No, it's not true! . . . Oh, can it be possible? . . . François . . . ."
There was a burst of laughter outside. Yes, the boy had laughed. Véronique heard that horrible, infernal laugh, so like Vorski's laugh; and it all agonized136 her with the same anguish which used to sear her in Vorski's days!
She did not run after the murderer. She did not call out.
A faint voice beside her was murmuring her name:
"Véronique . . . . Véronique . . . ."
M. d'Hergemont lay on the ground, staring at her with glassy eyes which were already filled with death.
She knelt down by his side; but, when she tried to unbutton his waistcoat and his bloodstained shirt, in order to dress the wound of which he was dying, he gently pushed her hand aside. She understood that all aid was useless and that he wished to speak to her. She stooped still lower.
"Véronique . . . forgive . . . Véronique . . . ."
She kissed him on the forehead and wept:
But he had something else to say; and his mouth vainly emitted syllables139 which did not form words and to which she listened in despair. His life was ebbing140 away. His mind was fading into the darkness. Véronique glued her ear to the lips which exhausted141 themselves in a supreme142 effort and she caught the words:
"Beware . . . beware . . . the God-Stone . . . ."
Suddenly he half raised himself. His eyes flashed as though lit by the last flicker3 of an expiring flame. Véronique received the impression that her father, as he looked at her, now understood nothing but the full significance of her presence and foresaw all the dangers that threatened her; and, speaking in a hoarse143 and terrified but quite distinct voice, he said:
"You mustn't stay . . . . It means death if you stay . . . . Escape this island . . . . Go . . . Go . . . ."
His head fell back. He stammered a few more words which Véronique was just able to grasp:
"Oh, the cross! . . . The four crosses of Sarek! . . . My daughter . . . my daughter . . . crucified! . . ."
And that was all.
There was a great silence, a vast silence which Véronique felt weighing upon her like a burden that grows heavier second after second.
"You must escape from this island," a voice repeated. "Go, quickly. Your father bade you, Madame Véronique."
Honorine was beside her, livid in the face, with her two hands clasping a napkin, rolled into a plug and red with blood, which she held to her chest.
"But I must look after you first!" cried Véronique. "Wait a moment . . . . Let me see . . . ."
"Later on . . . they'll attend to me presently," spluttered Honorine. "Oh, the monster! . . . If I had only come in time! But the door below was barricaded144 . . . ."
"Presently . . . . First Marie Le Goff, the cook, at the top of the staircase . . . . She's wounded too . . . mortally perhaps . . . . Go and see."
Véronique went out by the door at the back, the one through which her son had made his escape. There was a large landing here. On the top steps, curled into a heap, lay Marie Le Goff, with the death-rattle in her throat.
She died almost at once, without recovering consciousness, the third victim of the incomprehensible tragedy. As foretold146 by old Maguennoc, M. d'Hergemont had been the second victim.
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1
reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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2
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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3
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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4
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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5
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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6
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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7
spoke
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| 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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8
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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9
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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10
entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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11
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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13
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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14
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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15
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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16
shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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17
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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18
schooling
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| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
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19
furrow
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| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
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20
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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21
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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22
boded
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| v.预示，预告，预言( bode的过去式和过去分词 )；等待，停留( bide的过去分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待 | |
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23
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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24
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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25
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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26
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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27
squats
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| n.蹲坐，蹲姿( squat的名词复数 )；被擅自占用的建筑物v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的第三人称单数 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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28
trots
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| 小跑，急走( trot的名词复数 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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29
lavishes
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的第三人称单数 ) | |
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30
overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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31
differentiated
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| 区分，区别，辨别( differentiate的过去式和过去分词 )； 区别对待； 表明…间的差别，构成…间差别的特征 | |
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32
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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33
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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35
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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36
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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37
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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38
blackmailer
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| 敲诈者，勒索者 | |
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39
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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40
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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41
locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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42
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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43
mariners
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| 海员，水手（mariner的复数形式） | |
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44
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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45
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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46
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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47
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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48
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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49
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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50
swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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51
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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52
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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53
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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54
treacherously
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| 背信弃义地； 背叛地； 靠不住地； 危险地 | |
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55
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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56
shipwrecks
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| 海难，船只失事( shipwreck的名词复数 )； 沉船 | |
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57
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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58
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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59
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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60
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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61
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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62
coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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63
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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64
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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65
obsession
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| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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66
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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67
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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68
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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69
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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70
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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71
diversified
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| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
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72
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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73
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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74
oozes
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的第三人称单数 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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75
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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76
moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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77
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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78
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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79
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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80
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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81
consecrated
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| 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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82
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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83
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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84
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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85
cult
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| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
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86
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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87
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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88
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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89
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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90
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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91
declivity
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| n.下坡，倾斜面 | |
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92
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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93
hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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94
tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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95
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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96
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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97
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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98
fissure
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| n.裂缝；裂伤 | |
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99
extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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100
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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101
unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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102
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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103
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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104
lengthening
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的现在分词 )； 加长 | |
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105
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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106
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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107
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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108
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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109
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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110
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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111
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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112
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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113
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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114
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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115
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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116
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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117
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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118
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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119
stifled
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| （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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120
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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121
enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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123
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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124
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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125
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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126
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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127
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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128
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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129
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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130
postponing
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| v.延期，推迟( postpone的现在分词 ) | |
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131
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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133
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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134
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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135
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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136
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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137
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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138
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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139
syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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140
ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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141
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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142
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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143
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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144
barricaded
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| 设路障于，以障碍物阻塞( barricade的过去式和过去分词 )； 设路障[防御工事]保卫或固守 | |
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145
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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146
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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