The sight of his home dispelled7 these memories and brought upon him the sense of his daily environment and its distastefulness. The determination to accept his fate which had been with him on his return from Antelope8 had of late been[271] shaken by stirrings of rebellion. Uplifted by the thought of his love for a woman hopelessly removed from him, but who would always be a lodestar to worship reverently9 and to guide him up difficult paths, he had been able to face his domestic tragedy with the high resolution of the martyr11. But this exalted12 condition was hard to maintain in the friction13 of daily life with Berny. Before, she had merely been a disagreeable companion of whom he had to make the best. Now, she was that, intensified14 by a comparison which threw out her every fault and petty vulgarity into glaring prominence15. And more than that—she was the angel with the flaming sword, the self-incurred, invited, domesticated16 angel—the angel come to stay—who barred the way to Paradise.
She seemed to him to have changed within the last week. When he had first come home from Antelope she had been Berny in one of her less familiar but recognizable moods—Berny trying to be agreeable, wearing her best clothes every day, ordering the things for dinner he liked, talking loudly and incessantly17. Then, quite suddenly, he became aware of a change in her. She grew silent, absent-minded, morose19. He had tried to make their lives easier by always being polite and carefully considerate of her and she had responded to it. For the last few days she had made no effort to assist him in this laudable[272] design. Instead, she had been unresponsive, preoccupied20, uninvitingly snappish in her replies. Several times he had been forced into the novel position of “making conversation” throughout dinner, exerting his wits for subjects to talk about that he might lift the gloom and elicit21 some response from the mute, scowling22 woman opposite.
To-night, the period of ill-humor seemed over. Berny was not only once again her animated23 self, she was almost feverishly24 garrulous25. Dinner had not progressed past the fish when she began to question him on his recent experiences at Antelope. The subject had come up several times since his return, but for the last few days he had had a respite26 from it, and hoped its interest had worn away. She had many queries27 to make about Bill Cannon28, and from the father it was but a natural transition to the daughter, so much the more attractive of the pair. Dominick was soon inwardly writhing29 under an exceedingly ingenious and searching catechism.
Had he been less preoccupied by his own acute discomfort30, he might have noticed that Berny herself gave evidence of disturbance31. As she prodded32 him with her questions, her face was suffused with unusual color, and the eagerness of her curiosity shone through the carelessness with which she sought to veil it. Certain queries she accompanied with a piercing glance of investigation33, watching with hungry sharpness the[273] countenance34 of the persecuted35 man. Fearful of angering her, or, still worse, of arousing her suspicions, Dominick bore the examination with all the fortitude36 he had, but he rose from the table with every nerve tingling37, rasped and galled38 to the limit of endurance.
He did not come into the den18 immediately but roamed about, into the parlor39, down the passage, and into his own room. He spread the scent40 of his cigar and its accompanying films of smoke all through the flat, a thing that Berny would never have ordinarily allowed. To-night she was too occupied in listening to his prowling steps to bother about minor41 rules and regulations. She saw in his restlessness a disturbance evoked42 by her questionings.
“Aren’t you coming into the den?” she called, as she heard him pacing steadily43 along the passageway.
“No,” he called back. “The moonlight’s shining in at every window. It makes me restless. I don’t feel like sitting still.”
She sat on the divan44, a paper spread before her face, but her eyes were slanted45 sidewise, unblinking in the absorption of her attention. Suddenly she heard a rattling46 sound which she knew to be from the canes48 and umbrellas in the hat-rack. She cast away the paper, and, drawing herself to the edge of the divan, peered down the passage. Dominick was standing49 by the hat-rack, his hat[274] on the back of his head, his hand feeling among the canes.
“You’ve got your hat on,” she called in a high key of surprise. “You’re not going out?”
“Yes, I am,” he answered, drawing out the cane47 he wanted. “It’s a fine night, and I’m going for a walk.”
“For a walk?”—there was hesitancy in her tone, and for a horrible moment, he thought she was going to suggest coming with him. “Where are you going to?”
“Oh, I don’t know, just prowl about. I want some exercise.”
“Are you going to your mother’s?” she ventured, not without some timidity.
“No,” he said, “I’m not going anywhere in particular. Good night.”
She sat forward, listening to his descending50 feet and the bang of the hall door. A glance at the window showed her it was, as he said, a fine night, deluged51 with the radiance of the moon. Probably he was just going out for a walk and not to see anybody. He was always doing queer things like that. But,—Berny sat staring in front of her, biting her nails and thinking. Uneasiness had been planted in her by Dominick’s flight to Antelope. More poignant52 uneasiness had followed that first attack. Now the bitter corrosive53 of jealousy54 began to grow and expand in her. Sitting huddled55 on the divan, she thought of[275] Dominick, walking through the moonlight to Rose Cannon, and another new and griping pang56 laid hold upon her.
Outside, Dominick walked slowly, keeping to the smaller and less frequented streets. It was a wonderful night, as still as though the moon had exerted some mesmeric influence upon the earth. Everything was held motionless and without sound in a trance-like quietude. In the gardens not a blossom stirred. Where leaves extended from undefined darknesses of foliage57, they stood out, stem and fiber58, with a carven distinctness, their shadows painted on the asphalt walks in inky silhouette59. There was no lamplight to warm the clear, still pallor of the street’s vista. It stretched between the fronts of houses, a river of light, white and mysterious, like a path in a dream.
It was a night for lovers, for trysts60, and for whispered vows61. Dominick walked slowly, feeling himself an outsider in its passionate62 enchantment63. The scents64 that the gardens gave out, and through which he passed as through zones of sweetness, were part of it. So were the sounds that rose from the blotted65 vagueness of white figures on a porch, from impenetrable depths of shadow—laughter, low voices, little cries. In the distance people were singing snatches of a song that rose and fell, breaking out suddenly and as suddenly dropping into silence.
[276]His course was not aimless, and took him by a slow upward ascent66 to that high point of the city, whence the watcher can look down on the bay, the rugged67, engirdling hills, and the hollow of North Beach. Here he stood, resting on his cane, and gazing on the far-flung panorama68, with the white moon sailing high and its reflection glittering across the water. Along the bases of the hills the clotted69 lights of little towns shone in faintly-glimmering agglomerations70. At his feet the hollow lay like a black hole specked with hundreds of sparks. Each spark was the light of a home, symbol of the fire of a hearth71. He stood looking down on them, thinking of what they represented, that cherished center round which a man’s life revolves72, and which he, by his own sin and folly73, had lost for ever.
He walked on, skirting the hollow, and moving forward through streets where old houses brooded in overgrown gardens. The thin music of strings74 rose on the night, and two men passed him playing on the mandolin and guitar. They walked with quick, elastic75 steps, their playing accurately76 in accord, their bodies swaying slightly to its rhythm. They swung by him, and the vibrating harmonies, that sounded so frail77 and attenuated78 in the suave79 largeness of the night, grew faint and fainter, as if weighed upon and gradually extinguished by the dense80 saturation81 of the moonlight.
Music was evidently a mode of expression that[277] found favor on this evening of still brilliance82. A few moments later a sound of singing rose on the air and a youthful couple came into view, walking close together, their arms twined about each other, caroling in serene83 indifference84 to such wayfarers85 as they might meet. They passed him, their faces uplifted to the light, their mouths open in the abandon of their song. Unconscious of his presence, with upraised eyes and clasping arms, they paced on, filling the night with their voices—a boy and girl in love, singing in the moonlight. Dominick quickened his steps, hastening from the sound.
The moon was now high in the sky and the town lay dreaming under its spell. Below him he could see the expanse of flat roofs, shining surfaces between inlayings of shadow, with the clefts86 of the streets cut through at regular intervals87 like slices made by a giant knife. Now and then he looked up at the dome10 above, clear and solemn, the great disk floating in solitary88 majesty89 across the vast and thoughtful heaven.
That part of California Street which crested90 the hill was but a few blocks beyond him, and before his mind would acknowledge it, his feet had borne him that way. He thought only to pass the Cannon house, to look at its windows, and see their lights. As it rose before him, a huge, pale mass checkered91 with shadows, the longing92 to see it—the outer shell that hid his[278] heart’s desire—passed into a keener, concentrated agitation93 that seemed to press out from his soul like a cry to her.
The porch yawned black behind pillars that in the daytime were painted wood and now looked like temple columns wrought94 in marble. Dominick’s glance, sweeping95 the lines of yellowed windows, finally rested on this cavern96 of shadow, and he approached stealthily, as a robber might, his body close to the iron fence. Almost before his eyes had told him, he knew that a woman was standing there, leaning against the balustrade that stretched between the columns. A climbing rose spread, in a mottling of darkness, over the wall beside her. Here and there it was starred with the small white faces of blossoms. As the young man drew near she leaned over the balustrade, plucked one of the blossoms, and, slowly shredding97 the leaves from the stem, stretched out her hand and let them fall, like a languid shower of silver drops, to the grass.
Dominick halted below her, leaning against the fence and looking up. She did not see him and stretched out her hand again for another blossom. The petals98 of this one fell through her fingers, one by one, and lay, a scattering99 of white dots, on the darkness of the grass. She bent100 over the balustrade to look at them, and in doing so, her eyes encountered the man below.
For a moment they looked at each other without[279] speaking, then she said, her voice at the lowest note that would reach him,
“What are you doing there?”
“Watching you.”
“Have you been standing there long?”
“No, only a few minutes. Why are you pulling the roses to pieces?”
She gave a little laugh and said something that sounded like “I don’t know,” and moved back from the balustrade.
He thought she was going, and clutched the iron spikes101 of the fence, calling up to her in a voice of urgent feeling, curiously102 out of keeping with the words, the first remark that came into his head:
“This is very different from Antelope, isn’t it?”
She came forward again and looked out and up at the sky.
“Yes,” she said gravely, “we had no moonlight there, nothing but storms and gray clouds.”
“But it was lovely,” he answered in the same key. “The clouds and the storms didn’t matter. Those were three—three great weeks.”
He ended lamely103 but they were the best words he could get, trying to say something that would keep her there, trying to see her through the vaporous light. She bent over the railing looking for another rose, but there were no more within her reach and she gave the short, nervous laugh she had given before and turned her eyes[280] on him again. Then he realized that she was agitated104. The knowledge augmented105 his own perturbation and for a moment he did not trust himself to speak. He gazed at her fixedly106, the look of a lover, and was not conscious that she wavered under it, till she suddenly drew a quick breath, turned her head sidewise, and said, with an effort at naturalness,
“Well, I must go in. The roses are all picked and papa’ll be wondering where I am.”
It seemed to Dominick just then that he could not lose her. She must stay a moment longer. Urgency that was imploring107 was in his voice as he said,
“Don’t go! don’t go! Stay just one moment longer! Can’t you come down and talk for a minute? Come part of the way down. I want to speak to you for a little bit longer. It may be months before I see you again.”
She listened, wavered, and was won over. Without answer she turned from the shadow of the porch into the light on the top of the steps, and from there slowly descended108, her skirt gathered in one hand, and the other touching109 the baluster. She was in black and from its dead density110 her arms, bare to the elbow, shone as white as the arms of a marble woman. The baluster ended in a lion crouching111 in sleep on a slab112 of stone, and she paused here and Dominick went up the few steps from the street to meet her.[281] With the sleeping lion between them they looked at each other with troubled eyes.
The moonlight seemed to have drawn113 from the meeting the artificialities of worldly expression, which in the sensible, familiar daylight would have placed it on the footing of a casual, to-be-expected encounter. The sun beating down on lovers beats some of their sentimental114 transports out of them. Now in this mystic, beautifying luminosity, the acquired point of view, the regard for the accepted conventions of every-day seemed to have receded115 to a great distance, to be thin, forgotten things that had nothing to do with real life. For a moment Berny ceased to be a living presence, standing with a flaming sword between them. They almost forgot her. The memory that pressed upon them was that of their last meeting. It shone in their eyes and trembled on their lips. The sleeping lion that separated them was a singularly appropriate symbol.
Low-voiced and half-spoken sentences belonged to this romantic moment. The moonlit night around them was still and empty, but Dominick spoke116 as though other ears than hers were listening:
“I’ve wanted so to see you. I came by to-night hoping that perhaps I could catch a glimpse of your shadow on the curtain. I didn’t expect anything like this.”
[282]He stopped, looking at her, and not listening to the few words of her answer.
“I think I wanted you so that my will called you out,” he said in an impassioned whisper.
She said nothing and suddenly his hand sought hers, clasped it tight on the head of the lion, and he whispered again,
“Oh, Rose, if I could see you now and then—only for a moment like this.”
He felt her hand, small and cold, crush softly inside his, and almost immediately was conscious of her effort to withdraw it. He instantly loosened his fingers, let hers slide from his grasp, and drew back.
“Good night,” she said hurriedly, and without looking at him turned and went up the steps.
When she reached the shadow at the top of the steps, she called “Good-by,” passed into the engulfing118 blackness, and was gone. He waited till he heard the door bang behind her, then descended the steps and walked slowly home, his eyes on the pavement.
Berny was in her own room ready for bed when she heard his ascending footsteps. She was occupied in rubbing a skin-food into her face, with careful circular motions and pinchings of her finger-tips. It was a task that required deep attention and which she performed three nights[283] in the week with conscientious119 regularity120. With her face gleaming with grease she crept to her door and listened, heard his cane slide into the umbrella holder121, and the door of his room shut with a softness which told her that he thought her asleep. She walked back to the glass and resumed her manipulations, but with diminished zeal122. The clock on the bureau marked the hour at half-past ten. Dominick had been out two hours. Would a man walk round a city—even a crank like her husband—all by himself for two hours?
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1
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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3
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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antelope
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| n.羚羊；羚羊皮 | |
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reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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12
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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domesticated
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| adj.喜欢家庭生活的；（指动物）被驯养了的v.驯化( domesticate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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elicit
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| v.引出,抽出,引起 | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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queries
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| n.问题( query的名词复数 )；疑问；询问；问号v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的第三人称单数 )；询问 | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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galled
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| v.使…擦痛( gall的过去式和过去分词 )；擦伤；烦扰；侮辱 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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46
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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47
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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canes
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| n.（某些植物，如竹或甘蔗的）茎( cane的名词复数 )；（用于制作家具等的）竹竿；竹杖 | |
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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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50
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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51
deluged
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| v.使淹没( deluge的过去式和过去分词 )；淹没；被洪水般涌来的事物所淹没；穷于应付 | |
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52
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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53
corrosive
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| adj.腐蚀性的；有害的；恶毒的 | |
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54
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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55
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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56
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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57
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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58
fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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59
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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trysts
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| n.约会，幽会( tryst的名词复数 )；幽会地点 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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62
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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63
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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64
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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clotted
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| adj.凝结的v.凝固( clot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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agglomerations
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| n.成团，结块（agglomeration的复数形式） | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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revolves
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的第三人称单数 )；细想 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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saturation
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| n.饱和(状态)；浸透 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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wayfarers
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| n.旅人，（尤指）徒步旅行者( wayfarer的名词复数 ) | |
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clefts
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| n.裂缝( cleft的名词复数 )；裂口；cleave的过去式和过去分词；进退维谷 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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checkered
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| adj.有方格图案的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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shredding
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的现在分词 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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Augmented
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| adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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density
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| n.密集，密度，浓度 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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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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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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118
engulfing
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| adj.吞噬的v.吞没，包住( engulf的现在分词 ) | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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120
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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