Into this world of white mist and of song walked Brother Martin, old Roger Valliant’s son—old Valliant, the soldier of fortune who had fought for pay under all manner of kings and captains, and had come back to take his peace in England with an iron box full of silver and gold. Old Valliant was dead, with the flavor of sundry4 rude romances still clinging to his memory, for even when his hair was gray he had caught the eyes of the women. Then in his later years a sudden devoutness5 had fallen upon him; there had been a toddling6 boy in his house and no mother to care for the child. Old Valliant had made great efforts to escape the devil; that was what his neighbors had said of him. At all events, he had left the child and his money to the monks7 of Paradise, and had made a most comely9 and tranquil10 end.
Brother Martin was three-and-twenty, and the tallest man in Orchard11 Valley. The women whispered that it was a pity that such a man should be a monk8 and take his state so seriously. There was a tinge12 of red in his hair; his blue eyes looked at life with a bold mildness; men said that he was built more finely than his father, and old Valliant had been a mighty13 man-at-arms. Yet Brother Martin often had the look of a dreamer, though his flesh was so rich and admirable in its youth. He loved the forest, he loved the soft meadows and the orchards14, the path beside the river where the willows16 trailed their branches in the water, his stall in the choir17, the mill where the wheel thundered. The children could not let him be when he walked through the village. As for the white pigeons in the priory dovecot, they would perch18 on his hands and shoulders. And yet there was a mild severity about the man, a clear-sighted and unfoolish chastity that brooked19 no meanness. He was awake even though he could dream. He had had his wrestling matches with the devil.
Brother Martin went down to the river that May morning, stripped himself, piled his clothes on the trunk of a fallen pollard willow15, and took his swim. He let himself drift within ten yards of the weir20, and then struck back against the swiftly gliding21 water. There had been heavy rains on the Forest ridge22, and the Rondel was running fast—so fast that Martin had to fight hard to make headway against the stream. The youth in him had challenged the river; it was a favorite trick of his to let himself be carried close to the weir and then to fight back against the suck of the water.
And a woman was watching him. She had been standing23 all the while under a willow, leaning her body against the trunk of the tree, her gray cloak and hood24 part of the grayness of the dawn. Nothing could be seen of her face save the white curve of her chin. She kept absolutely still, so still that Martin did not notice her.
The Rondel river gave Martin a fair fight that morning. All his litheness25 and his strength were needed in the tussle26; he conquered the river by inches, and drew away very slowly from the thundering weir. The woman hidden behind the willow leaned forward and watched him.
The sun had risen, a great yellow circle, when Martin reached the spot where he had left his clothes. The mist was rising, and long yellow slants28 of light struck the water and lined the scalloped ripples29 with gold. The water was very black under the near bank, and as Martin climbed out, holding to the trailing branches of a willow, he saw the dew-wet meadows shining like a sheet of silver. The birds were still exulting30. The sunlight struck his dripping body and made it gleam like the body of a god.
Martin had frocked himself and was knotting his girdle when he heard the woman speak.
“Oh, Mother Mary, but I thought death had you!” She threw herself on her knees and seized one of his hands in both of hers. “The saints be thanked, holy father; but we in Paradise would be wrath31 with you for thinking so little of us.”
Martin stared at her, and in his astonishment32 he suffered her to keep a hold upon his hand. Her hood had fallen back, and showed her ripe, audacious face, and her black-brown eyes that were full of a seeming innocence33. Her hair was the color of polished bronze, and her teeth very white behind her soft, red lips.
“What are you doing here, child?”
He was austere34, yet gentle, and strangely unembarrassed. The girl was a ward27 of Widow Greensleeve’s, of Cherry Acre.
She made a show of confusion.
“I was out to gather herbs, holy father—herbs that must have the dew on them—and I saw you struggling in the river—and was afraid.”
He smiled at her, and withdrew his hand.
“I thank you for your fear, child.”
“Sir, you are so well loved in the valley.”
She stood up, smoothing her gown, and looking shyly at the grass.
“You are not angry with me, Father Martin?”
“How should I be angry?”
“In truth, but my fear for you ran away with me.”
“I must gather my herbs, holy father.”
“Peace be with you,” he said simply.
Martin went on his way, as though nothing singular had happened. The girl loitered under the willows, looking back at him with mischievous37 curiosity. He was very innocent, but somehow she liked him none the less for that.
“Maybe it is very pleasant to be so saintly,” she said; “yet he is a fine figure of a man. I wonder how long it will be before Father Satan comes stalking across the meadows.”
Kate Succory made a pretense38 of searching for herbs, so ordering her steps that she found herself on the path that led to the house at Cherry Acre. The path ran between high hawthorn39 hedges that sheltered the orchards, and since the hedges were in green leaf, the way was like a narrow winding40 alley1 between high walls. She did not hurry herself, and presently she heard some one following her along the path.
“Good-morrow, Kate.”
She halted and turned a mock-demure face.
“Good-morrow, holy father.”
Geraint was grinning under his cowl.
“You are up betimes, sweeting.”
“Excellent maid. And nothing wonderful has happened to you?”
“Oh, I have fallen in love with some one,” she said tartly43; “it is a girl’s business to fall in love.”
Geraint sniggered.
“I commend such humanity.”
“It is not with you, holy father. Do not flatter yourself as to that.”
She tossed her head, and walked daintily, swinging her shoulders. And Geraint looked at her brown neck, and opened and shut his hairy hands.
“Oh, to be sure.”
And she began to whistle like a boy.
Brother Martin was a mile away, brushing his feet through the dew of the upland meadows. He had crossed the footbridge at the mill, and spoken a few words with Gregory, the miller46, who had thrust a shock of sandy hair out of an upper window. Rising like a black mound47 on the edge of the Forest purlieus stood a grove48 of yews50, and it was toward these yews that Martin’s footsteps tended.
The yews were very ancient, with huge red-black trunks and dense51 green spires52 crowded together against the blue. No grass grew under them, for the great trees starved all other growth and cheated it of sunlight. A path cut its way through the solemn gloom, but the yew49 boughs53 met overhead.
And yet there was life in the midst of this black wood, life that was grotesque54 and piteous. The path broadened to a spacious55 glade56, and in the glade stood a little rude stone house thatched with heather. The dwellers57 here labored58 with their hands, for a great part of the glade was cultivated, and about the house itself were borders of herbs, roses, and flowering plants. A couple of goats were browsing59 outside the wattle fence that closed in the garden, and a blue pigeon strutted60 and cooed to its mate on the roof ridge of the house.
Martin stopped at the swinging hurdle61 that served as a gate. A man was hoeing between the rows of broad beans, an old man to judge by the stoop of his shoulders and the slow and careful way he used the hoe. He wore a coarse white smock with a hood to it; a kind of linen62 mask covered his face.
“You are working early, Master Christopher.”
The man turned and straightened himself with curious deliberation. There was something ghastly about that white mask of his with its two black slits63 for eye-holes. He looked more like a piece of mummery than a man, a grotesque figure in some rustic64 play.
He lifted up a cracked voice and shouted:
“Giles, Peter—Brother Martin is at the gate.”
Two be-cowled and masked creatures came out of the house. All three were so alike and so much of a size that a stranger would not have told one from the other. They formed themselves into a kind of procession, and shuffling65 to the gate, knelt down on a patch of grass inside it.
Martin’s voice was very gentle.
“Shall I chant the Mass, brothers?”
The three lepers looked at him like lost souls gazing at Christ.
So Martin chanted the Mass.
The three bowed their heads before him, as though it gave them joy to listen to the sound of his voice, for Martin chanted like a priest and a soldier and a woman all in one. He had no fear of these poor creatures, did not shrink from them and hold aloof67. When he brought them the Sacrament he did not pass God’s body through a hole in the wall. The birds had ceased their singing, and the world was very still, and Martin’s voice went up to heaven with a strong and valiant68 tenderness.
When he had ended the Mass the three lepers got up off their knees and began to talk like children.
“Can you smell my gillyflowers, Brother Martin?”
“The speckled hen has hatched out twelve chicks.”
“If the Lord keeps the frosts away there will be a power of fruit on the trees.”
Martin opened the gate and walked into the garden, and the three followed him as though he had come straight out of heaven. No other living soul ever came nearer than the place where the path entered the yew wood. Alms were left there, and such goods as the lepers could buy. But Brother Martin had no fear of the horror that had fallen on them, and had such a fear shown itself he would have crushed it out of his heart. And so he had to see and smell Christopher’s gillyflowers, handle the speckled hen’s chicks, and admire the maple cups that Peter had made. Nature was beautiful and clean even though she had cast a foul70 blight71 upon these three poor creatures. They hung upon Martin’s words, watched him with a kind of timid devotion. God walked with them in that lonely place when Brother Martin came from Paradise and through the wood of yews.
Meanwhile, Brother Geraint had followed Kate Succory to Widow Greensleeve’s house in Cherry Acre, where the maze72 of high hedges and orchard trees hid his black frock completely. The girl had gone a-milking, and Brother Geraint had certain things to say to the widow. He sat on a settle in the kitchen, and she moved to and fro before him, a big breeze of a woman, plump, voluble, very rosy73, with roguish eyes and an incipient74 double chin. She laughed a great deal, nodded her head at him, and snapped her fingers, for she and Brother Geraint understood each other.
“If she can cure the young man of his self-righteousness she shall be well remembered by us all. See to it, dame.”
The widow curtsied, making a capacious lap.
“Your servant, holy father.”
And then she fell a-laughing in a sly, shrewd way.
“God be merciful to us, my friend; yet I do believe that it is more pleasant to live with sinners than with saints. The over-pious man rides the poor ass35 to death. Now you—my friend——”
“We would all confess to Brother Geraint. I know the kind of penance76 that you would set me, good sir.”
Geraint got up and kissed her, and her brown eyes challenged his.
“Leave it to me,” she said; “I will physic the young man for you.”
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1
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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4
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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devoutness
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| 朝拜 | |
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toddling
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| v.（幼儿等）东倒西歪地走( toddle的现在分词 )；蹒跚行走；溜达；散步 | |
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7
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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8
monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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9
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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10
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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11
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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13
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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15
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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17
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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18
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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19
brooked
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| 容忍，忍受（brook的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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weir
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| n.堰堤，拦河坝 | |
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21
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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22
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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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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24
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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litheness
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tussle
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| n.&v.扭打，搏斗，争辩 | |
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27
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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28
slants
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| （使）倾斜，歪斜( slant的第三人称单数 )； 有倾向性地编写或报道 | |
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ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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31
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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32
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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33
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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34
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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35
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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36
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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38
pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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39
hawthorn
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| 山楂 | |
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40
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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41
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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42
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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43
tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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44
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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45
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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46
miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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47
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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49
yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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50
yews
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| n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
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51
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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52
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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53
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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54
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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55
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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56
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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57
dwellers
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| n.居民，居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
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58
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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59
browsing
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| v.吃草( browse的现在分词 )；随意翻阅；（在商店里）随便看看；（在计算机上）浏览信息 | |
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60
strutted
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| 趾高气扬地走，高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
hurdle
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| n.跳栏，栏架；障碍，困难；vi.进行跨栏赛 | |
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62
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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63
slits
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| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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64
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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65
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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66
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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67
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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68
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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69
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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70
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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71
blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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72
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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73
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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74
incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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75
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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76
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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