At length the uproar1 in Sir Richard's room died away. The hoarse2 voice in furious soliloquy, and the rapid tread as he paced the floor, were no longer audible. In their stead was heard alone the stormy wind rushing and yelling through the old trees, and at intervals3 the deep volleying thunder. In the midst of this hubbub4 the Italian rubbed his hands, tripped lightly up and down his room, placed his ear at the keyhole, and chuckled5 and rubbed his hands again in a paroxysm of glee—now and again venting6 his gratification in brief ejaculations of intense delight—the very incarnation of the spirit of mischief7.
The sounds in Sir Richard's room had ceased for two hours or more; and the piping wind and the deep-mouthed thunder still roared and rattled8. The Neapolitan was too much excited to slumber9. He continued, therefore, to pace the floor of his chamber10—sometimes gazing through his window upon the black stormy sky and the blue lightning, which leaped in blinding flashes across its darkness, revealing for a moment the ivied walls, and the tossing trees, and the fields and hills, which were as instantaneously again swallowed in the blackness of the tempestuous11 night; and then turning from the casement12, he would plant himself by the door, and listen with eager curiosity for any sound from Sir Richard's room.
As we have said before, several hours had passed, and all had long been silent in the baronet's apartment, when on a sudden Parucci thought he heard the sharp and well-known knocking of his patron's ebony stick upon the floor. He ran and listened at his own door. The sound was repeated with unequivocal and vehement13 distinctness, and was instantaneously followed by a prolonged and violent peal14 from his master's hand-bell. The summons was so sustained and vehement, that the Italian at length cautiously withdrew the bolt, unlocked the door, and stole out upon the lobby. So far from abating15, the sound grew louder and louder. On tip-toe he scaled the stairs, until he reached to about the midway; and he there paused, for he heard his master's voice exerted in a tone of terrified entreaty,—
"Not now—not now—avaunt—not now. Oh, God!—help," cried the well-known voice.
These words were followed by a crash, as of some heavy body springing from the bed—then a rush upon the floor—then another crash.
The voice was hushed; but in its stead the wild storm made a long and plaintive16 moan, and the listener's heart turned cold.
"Malora—Corpo di Pluto17!" muttered he between his teeth. "What is it? Will he reeng again? Santo gennaro!—there is something wrong."
He paused in fearful curiosity; but the summons was not repeated. Five minutes passed; and yet no sound but the howling and pealing18 of the storm. Parucci, with a beating heart, ascended19 the stairs and knocked at the door of his patron's chamber. No answer was returned.
"Sir Richard, Sir Richard," cried the man, "do you want me, Sir Richard?"
Still no answer. He pushed open the door and entered. A candle, wasted to the very socket20, stood upon a table beside the huge hearse-like bed, which, for the convenience of the invalid21, had been removed from his bed-chamber to his dressing-room. The light was dim, and waved uncertainly in the eddies22 which found their way through the chinks of the window, so that the lights and shadows flitted ambiguously across the objects in the room. At the end of the bed a table had been upset; and lying near it upon the floor was some-thing—a heap of bed-clothes, or—could it be?—yes, it was Sir Richard Ashwoode.
Parncci approached the prostrate23 figure: it was lying upon its back, the countenance24 fixed25 and livid, the eyes staring and glazed26, and the jaw27 fallen—he was a corpse28. The Italian stooped down and took the hand of the dead man—it was already cold; he called him by his name and shook him, but all in vain. There lay the cunning intriguer29, the fierce, fiery30 prodigal31, the impetuous, unrelenting tyrant32, the unbelieving, reckless man of the world, a ghastly lump of clay.
With strange emotions the Neapolitan gazed upon the lifeless effigy33 from which the evil tenant34 had been so suddenly and fearfully called to its eternal and unseen abode35.
"Gone—dead—all over—all past," muttered he, slowly, while he pressed his foot upon the dead body, as if to satisfy himself that life was indeed extinct—"quite gone. Canchero! it was ugly death—there was something with him; what was he speaking with?"
Parucci walked to the door leading to the great staircase, but found it bolted as usual.
"Pshaw! there was nothing," said he, looking fearfully round the room as he approached the body again, and repeating the negative as if to reassure36 himself—"no, no—nothing, nothing."
He gazed again on the awful spectacle in silence for several minutes.
"Corbezzoli, and so it is over," at length he ejaculated—"the game is ended. See, see, the breast is bare, and there the two marks of Aldini's stiletto. Ah! briccone, briccone, what wild faylow were you—panzanera, for a pretty ankle and a pair of black eyes, you would dare the devil. Rotto di collo, his face is moving!—pshaw! it is only the light that wavers. Diamine! the face is terrible. What made him speak? nothing was with him—pshaw! nothing could come to him here—no, no, nothing."
As he thus spoke37, the wind swept vehemently38 upon the windows with a sound as if some great thing had rushed, against them, and was pressing for admission, and the gust39 blew out the candle; the blast died away in a lengthened40 wail41, and then again came rushing and howling up to the windows, as if the very prince of the powers of the air himself were thundering at the casement; then again the blue dazzling lightning glared into the room and gave place to deeper darkness.
"Pah! that lightning smells like brimstone. Sangue d'un dua, I hear something in the room."
Yielding to his terrors, Parucci stumbled to the door opening upon the great lobby, and with cold and trembling fingers drawing the bolt, sprang to the stairs and shouted for assistance in a tone which speedily assembled half the household in the chamber of death.
点击收听单词发音
1 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
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2 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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3 intervals | |
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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4 hubbub | |
n.嘈杂;骚乱 | |
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5 chuckled | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6 venting | |
消除; 泄去; 排去; 通风 | |
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7 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
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8 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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9 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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10 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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11 tempestuous | |
adj.狂暴的 | |
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12 casement | |
n.竖铰链窗;窗扉 | |
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13 vehement | |
adj.感情强烈的;热烈的;(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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14 peal | |
n.钟声;v.鸣响 | |
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15 abating | |
减少( abate的现在分词 ); 减去; 降价; 撤消(诉讼) | |
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16 plaintive | |
adj.可怜的,伤心的 | |
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17 Pluto | |
n.冥王星 | |
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18 pealing | |
v.(使)(钟等)鸣响,(雷等)发出隆隆声( peal的现在分词 ) | |
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19 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20 socket | |
n.窝,穴,孔,插座,插口 | |
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21 invalid | |
n.病人,伤残人;adj.有病的,伤残的;无效的 | |
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22 eddies | |
(水、烟等的)漩涡,涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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23 prostrate | |
v.拜倒,平卧,衰竭;adj.拜倒的,平卧的,衰竭的 | |
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24 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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25 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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26 glazed | |
adj.光滑的,像玻璃的;上过釉的;呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式);上釉于,上光;(目光)变得呆滞无神 | |
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27 jaw | |
n.颚,颌,说教,流言蜚语;v.喋喋不休,教训 | |
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28 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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29 intriguer | |
密谋者 | |
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30 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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31 prodigal | |
adj.浪费的,挥霍的,放荡的 | |
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32 tyrant | |
n.暴君,专制的君主,残暴的人 | |
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33 effigy | |
n.肖像 | |
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34 tenant | |
n.承租人;房客;佃户;v.租借,租用 | |
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35 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
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36 reassure | |
v.使放心,使消除疑虑 | |
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37 spoke | |
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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38 vehemently | |
adv. 热烈地 | |
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39 gust | |
n.阵风,突然一阵(雨、烟等),(感情的)迸发 | |
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40 lengthened | |
(时间或空间)延长,伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41 wail | |
vt./vi.大声哀号,恸哭;呼啸,尖啸 | |
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