“Enter, El-Râmi!” she said in a low yet harsh voice—“The hour is late,—but when did ever the lateness of hours change or deter16 your sovereign will! Yet, truly as God liveth, it is hard that I should seldom be permitted to pass a night in peace!”
El-Râmi smiled indifferently, but made no reply, as it was useless to answer Zaroba. She was stone-deaf, and therefore not in a condition to be argued with. She preceded him into a small ante-room, provided with no other furniture than a table and chair;—one entire side of the wall, however, was hung with a magnificent curtain of purple velvet17 bordered in gold. On the table were a slate18 and pencil, and these implements19 El-Râmi at once drew towards him.
“Has there been any change to-day?” he wrote.
Zaroba read the words.
“None,” she replied.
“She has not moved?”
“Not a finger.”
He paused, pencil in hand,—then he wrote—
“You are ill-tempered. You have your dark humour upon you.”
Zaroba’s eyes flashed, and she threw up her skinny hands with a wrathful gesture.
“Dark humour!” she cried in accents that were almost shrill—“Ay!—and if it be so, El-Râmi, what is my humour to you? Am I anything more to you than a cipher,—a mere21 slave? What have the thoughts of a foolish woman, bent with years and close to the dark gateways22 of the tomb, to do with one who deems himself all wisdom? What are the feelings of a wretched perishable23 piece of flesh and blood to a self-centred god and opponent of Nature like El-Râmi-Zarânos?” She laughed bitterly. “Pay no heed24 to me, great Master of the Fates invisible!—superb controller of the thoughts of men!—pay no heed to Zaroba’s ‘dark humours,’ as you call them. Zaroba has no wings to soar with—she is old and feeble, and aches at the heart with a burden of unshed tears,—she would fain have been content with this low earth whereon to tread in safety,—she would fain have been happy with common joys,—but these are debarred her, and her lot is like that of many a better woman,—to sit solitary25 among the ashes of dead days and know herself desolate26!”
She dropped her arms as suddenly as she had raised them. El-Râmi surveyed her with a touch of derision, and wrote again on the slate:
“I thought you loved your charge?”
“Does one love a statue?” she demanded. “Shall I caress28 a picture? Shall I rain tears or kisses over the mere semblance12 of a life that does not live,—shall I fondle hands that never return my clasp? Love! Love is in my heart—yes! like a shut-up fire in a tomb,—but you hold the key, El-Râmi, and the flame dies for want of air.”
He shrugged29 his shoulders, and, putting the pencil aside, wrote no more. Moving towards the velvet curtain that draped the one side of the room he made an imperious sign. Zaroba, obeying the gesture mechanically and at once, drew a small pulley, by means of which the rich soft folds of stuff parted noiselessly asunder30, displaying such a wonderful interior of luxury and loveliness as seemed for the moment almost unreal. The apartment opened to view was lofty and perfectly31 circular in shape, and was hung from top to bottom with silken hangings of royal purple embroidered32 all over with curious arabesque33 patterns in gold. The same rich material was caught up from the edges of the ceiling to the centre, like the drapery of a pavilion or tent, and was there festooned with golden fringes and tassels34. From out the midst of this warm mass of glistening35 colour swung a gold lamp which shed its light through amber-hued crystal,—while the floor below was carpeted with the thickest velvet pile, the design being pale purple pansies on a darker ground of the same almost neutral tint37. A specimen38 of everything beautiful, rare, and costly39 seemed to have found its way into this one room, from the exquisitely-wrought ivory figure of a Psyche41 on her pedestal, to the tall vase of Venetian crystal which held lightly up to view dozens of magnificent roses that seemed born of full midsummer, though as yet, in the capricious English climate, it was scarcely spring. And all the beauty, all the grace, all the evidences of perfect taste, art, care, and forethought were gathered together round one centre,—one unseeing, unresponsive centre,—the figure of a sleeping girl. Pillowed on a raised couch such as might have served a queen for costliness42, she lay fast bound in slumber,—a matchless piece of loveliness,—stirless as marble,—wondrous as the ideal of a poet’s dream. Her delicate form was draped loosely in a robe of purest white, arranged so as to suggest rather than conceal43 its exquisite40 outline,—a silk coverlet was thrown lightly across her feet, and her head rested on cushions of the softest, snowiest satin. Her exceedingly small white hands were crossed upon her breast over a curious jewel,—a sort of giant ruby44 cut in the shape of a star, which scintillated45 with a thousand sparkles in the light, and coloured the under-tips of her fingers with a hue36 like wine, and her hair, which was of extraordinary length and beauty, almost clothed her body down to the knee, as with a mantle46 of shimmering47 gold. To say merely that she was lovely would scarcely describe her,—for the loveliness that is generally understood as such was here so entirely48 surpassed and intensified49 that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to express its charm. Her face had the usual attributes of what might be deemed perfection,—that is, the lines were purely50 oval,—the features delicate, the skin most transparently51 fair, the lips a dewy red, and the fringes of the closed eyes were long, dark, and delicately upcurled;—but this was not all. There was something else,—something quite undefinable, that gave a singular glow and radiance to the whole countenance52, and suggested the burning of a light through alabaster,—a creeping of some subtle fire through the veins53 which made the fair body seem the mere reflection of some greater fairness within. If those eyes were to open, one thought, how wonderful their lustre54 must needs be!—if that perfect figure rose up and moved, what a harmony would walk the world in maiden55 shape!—and yet,—watching that hushed repose56, that scarcely perceptible breathing, it seemed more than certain that she would never rise,—never tread earthly soil in common with earth’s creatures,—never be more than what she seemed,—a human flower, gathered and set apart—for whom? For God’s love? Or Man’s pleasure? Either, neither, or both?
El-Râmi entered the rich apartment, followed by Zaroba, and stood by the couch for some minutes in silence. Whatever his thoughts were, his face gave no clue to them,—his features being as impassive as though cast in bronze. Zaroba watched him curiously57, her wrinkled visage expressive58 of some strongly-suppressed passion. The sleeping girl stirred and smiled in her sleep,—a smile that brightened her countenance as much as if a sudden glory had circled it with a halo.
“Ay, she lives for you!” said Zaroba. “And she grows fairer every day. She is the sun and you the snow. But the snow is bound to melt in due season,—and even you, El-Râmi-Zarânos, will hardly baffle the laws of Nature!”
El-Râmi turned upon her with a fierce mute gesture that had something of the terrible in it,—she shrank from the cold glance of his intense eyes, and in obedience59 to an imperative60 wave of his hand moved away to a farther corner of the room, where, crouching61 down upon the floor, she took up a quaint62 implement20 of work, a carved triangular63 frame of ebony, with which she busied herself, drawing glittering threads in and out of it with marvellous speed and dexterity64. She made a weird65 picture there, squatted66 on the ground in her yellow cotton draperies, her rough gray hair gleaming like spun67 silk in the light, and the shining threadwork in her withered hands. El-Râmi looked at her sitting thus, and was suddenly moved with compassion—she was old and sad,—poor Zaroba! He went up to her where she crouched68, and stood above her, his ardent69 fiery70 eyes seeming to gather all their wonderful lustre into one long, earnest, and pitiful regard. Her work fell from her hands, and as she met that burning gaze a vague smile parted her lips,—her frowning features smoothed themselves into an expression of mingled71 placidity72 and peace.
“Desolate Zaroba!” said El-Râmi, slowly lifting his hands. “Widowed and solitary soul! Deaf to the outer noises of the world, let the ears of thy spirit be open to my voice—and hear thou all the music of the past! Lo, the bygone years return to thee and picture themselves afresh upon thy tired brain!—again thou dost listen to the voices of thy children at play,—the wild Arabian desert spreads out before thee in the sun like a sea of gold,—the tall palms lift themselves against the burning sky—the tent is pitched by the cool spring of fresh water,—and thy savage73 mate, wearied out with long travel, sleeps, pillowed on thy breast. Thou art young again, Zaroba!—young, fair, and beloved!—be happy so! Dream and rest!”
As he spoke74 he took the aged75 woman’s unresisting hands and laid her gently, gently, by gradual degrees down in a recumbent posture76, and placing a cushion under her head watched her for a few seconds.
“By Heaven!” he muttered, as he heard her regular breathing and noted77 the perfectly composed expression of her face. “Are dreams after all the only certain joys of life? A poet’s fancies,—a painter’s visions—the cloud-castles of a boy’s imaginings—all dreams!—and only such dreamers can be called happy. Neither Fate nor Fortune can destroy their pleasure,—they make sport of kings and hold great nations as the merest toys of thought—oh sublime78 audacity79 of Vision! Would I could dream so!—or rather, would I could prove my dreams not dreams at all, but the reflections of the absolute Real! Hamlet again!
“‘To die—to sleep;—
To sleep!—perchance to dream; ay, there’s the rub!’
Imagine it!—to die and dream of Heaven—or Hell—and all the while if there should be no reality in either!”
With one more glance at the now soundly slumbering80 Zaroba, he went back to the couch, and gazed long and earnestly at the exquisite maiden there reclined,—then bending over her, he took her small fair left hand in his own, pressing his fingers hard round the delicate wrist.
“Lilith!—Lilith!” he said in low, yet commanding accents. “Lilith!—Speak to me! I am here!”
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1
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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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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7
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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8
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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9
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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10
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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11
semblances
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| n.外表，外观（semblance的复数形式） | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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13
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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14
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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deter
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| vt.阻止，使不敢，吓住 | |
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17
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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18
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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19
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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20
implement
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| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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gateways
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| n.网关( gateway的名词复数 )；门径；方法；大门口 | |
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23
perishable
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| adj.（尤指食物）易腐的，易坏的 | |
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24
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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25
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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26
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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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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32
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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33
arabesque
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| n.阿拉伯式花饰；adj.阿拉伯式图案的 | |
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34
tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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35
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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36
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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37
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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39
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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40
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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41
psyche
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| n.精神；灵魂 | |
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42
costliness
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| 昂贵的 | |
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43
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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44
ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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45
scintillated
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| v.（言谈举止中）焕发才智( scintillate的过去式和过去分词 )；谈笑洒脱；闪耀；闪烁 | |
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46
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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47
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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48
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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49
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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50
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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51
transparently
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| 明亮地，显然地，易觉察地 | |
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52
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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53
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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54
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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55
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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56
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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57
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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58
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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59
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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60
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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61
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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62
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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63
triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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64
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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65
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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66
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；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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67
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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68
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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70
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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71
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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72
placidity
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| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
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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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74
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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75
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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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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77
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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78
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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79
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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80
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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