At all events Robert proposed it, and there was not a dissenting1 voice. There was not one but was ready to follow when he led the way. He did not lead the way, however, he directed the way; and he himself loitered behind with the lovers, who had betrayed a disposition2 to linger and hold themselves apart. He walked between them, whether with malicious3 or mischievous4 intent was not wholly clear, even to himself.
The Pontelliers and Ratignolles walked ahead; the women leaning upon the arms of their husbands. Edna could hear Robert’s voice behind them, and could sometimes hear what he said. She wondered why he did not join them. It was unlike him not to. Of late he had sometimes held away from her for an entire day, redoubling his devotion upon the next and the next, as though to make up for hours that had been lost. She missed him the days when some pretext5 served to take him away from her, just as one misses the sun on a cloudy day without having thought much about the sun when it was shining.
The people walked in little groups toward the beach. They talked and laughed; some of them sang. There was a band playing down at Klein’s hotel, and the strains reached them faintly, tempered by the distance. There were strange, rare odors abroad-a tangle6 of the sea smell and of weeds and damp, new-plowed earth, mingled7 with the heavy perfume of a field of white blossoms somewhere near. But the night sat lightly upon the sea and the land. There was no weight of darkness; there were no shadows. The white light of the moon had fallen upon the world like the mystery and the softness of sleep.
Most of them walked into the water as though into a native element. The sea was quiet now, and swelled8 lazily in broad billows that melted into one another and did not break except upon the beach in little foamy9 crests10 that coiled back like slow, white serpents.
Edna had attempted all summer to learn to swim. She had received instructions from both the men and women; in some instances from the children. Robert had pursued a system of lessons almost daily; and he was nearly at the point of discouragement in realizing the futility12 of his efforts. A certain ungovernable dread13 hung about her when in the water, unless there was a hand near by that might reach out and reassure14 her.
But that night she was like the little tottering15, stumbling, clutching child, who of a sudden realizes its powers, and walks for the first time alone, boldly and with over-confidence. She could have shouted for joy. She did shout for joy, as with a sweeping16 stroke or two she lifted her body to the surface of the water.
A feeling of exultation17 overtook her, as if some power of significant import had been given her to control the working of her body and her soul. She grew daring and reckless, overestimating18 her strength. She wanted to swim far out, where no woman had swum before.
Her unlooked-for achievement was the subject of wonder, applause, and admiration19. Each one congratulated himself that his special teachings had accomplished20 this desired end.
“How easy it is!” she thought. “It is nothing,” she said aloud; “why did I not discover before that it was nothing. Think of the time I have lost splashing about like a baby!” She would not join the groups in their sports and bouts21, but intoxicated22 with her newly conquered power, she swam out alone.
She turned her face seaward to gather in an impression of space and solitude23, which the vast expanse of water, meeting and melting with the moonlit sky, conveyed to her excited fancy. As she swam she seemed to be reaching out for the unlimited24 in which to lose herself.
Once she turned and looked toward the shore, toward the people she had left there. She had not gone any great distance that is, what would have been a great distance for an experienced swimmer. But to her unaccustomed vision the stretch of water behind her assumed the aspect of a barrier which her unaided strength would never be able to overcome.
A quick vision of death smote25 her soul, and for a second of time appalled26 and enfeebled her senses. But by an effort she rallied her staggering faculties27 and managed to regain28 the land.
She made no mention of her encounter with death and her flash of terror, except to say to her husband, “I thought I should have perished out there alone.”
“You were not so very far, my dear; I was watching you”, he told her.
Edna went at once to the bath-house, and she had put on her dry clothes and was ready to return home before the others had left the water. She started to walk away alone. They all called to her and shouted to her. She waved a dissenting hand, and went on, paying no further heed29 to their renewed cries which sought to detain her.
“Sometimes I am tempted11 to think that Mrs. Pontellier is capricious,” said Madame Lebrun, who was amusing herself immensely and feared that Edna’s abrupt30 departure might put an end to the pleasure.
“I know she is,” assented31 Mr. Pontellier; “sometimes, not often.”
Edna had not traversed a quarter of the distance on her way home before she was overtaken by Robert.
“Did you think I was afraid?” she asked him, without a shade of annoyance32.
“No; I knew you weren’t afraid.”
“Then why did you come? Why didn’t you stay out there with the others?”
“I never thought of it.”
“Thought of what?”
“Of anything. What difference does it make?”
“I’m very tired,” she uttered, complainingly.
“I know you are.”
“You don’t know anything about it. Why should you know? I never was so exhausted33 in my life. But it isn’t unpleasant. A thousand emotions have swept through me to-night. I don’t comprehend half of them. Don’t mind what I’m saying; I am just thinking aloud. I wonder if I shall ever be stirred again as Mademoiselle Reisz’s playing moved me to-night. I wonder if any night on earth will ever again be like this one. It is like a night in a dream. The people about me are like some uncanny, half-human beings. There must be spirits abroad to-night.”
“There are,” whispered Robert, “Didn’t you know this was the twenty-eighth of August?”
“The twenty-eighth of August?”
“Yes. On the twenty-eighth of August, at the hour of midnight, and if the moon is shining-the moon must be shining-a spirit that has haunted these shores for ages rises up from the Gulf34. With its own penetrating35 vision the spirit seeks some one mortal worthy36 to hold him company, worthy of being exalted37 for a few hours into realms of the semi-celestials. His search has always hitherto been fruitless, and he has sunk back, disheartened, into the sea. But to-night he found Mrs. Pontellier. Perhaps he will never wholly release her from the spell. Perhaps she will never again suffer a poor, unworthy earthling to walk in the shadow of her divine presence.”
“Don’t banter38 me,” she said, wounded at what appeared to be his flippancy39. He did not mind the entreaty40, but the tone with its delicate note of pathos41 was like a reproach. He could not explain; he could not tell her that he had penetrated42 her mood and understood. He said nothing except to offer her his arm, for, by her own admission, she was exhausted. She had been walking alone with her arms hanging limp, letting her white skirts trail along the dewy path. She took his arm, but she did not lean upon it. She let her hand lie listlessly, as though her thoughts were elsewhere-somewhere in advance of her body, and she was striving to overtake them.
Robert assisted her into the hammock which swung from the post before her door out to the trunk of a tree.
“Will you stay out here and wait for Mr. Pontellier?” he asked.
“I’ll stay out here. Good-night.”
“Shall I get you a pillow?”
“There’s one here,” she said, feeling about, for they were in the shadow.
“It must be soiled; the children have been tumbling it about.”
“No matter.” And having discovered the pillow, she adjusted it beneath her head. She extended herself in the hammock with a deep breath of relief. She was not a supercilious43 or an over-dainty woman. She was not much given to reclining in the hammock, and when she did so it was with no cat-like suggestion of voluptuous44 ease, but with a beneficent repose45 which seemed to invade her whole body.
“Shall I stay with you till Mr. Pontellier comes?” asked Robert, seating himself on the outer edge of one of the steps and taking hold of the hammock rope which was fastened to the post.
“If you wish. Don’t swing the hammock. Will you get my white shawl which I left on the window-sill over at the house?”
“No; but I shall be presently.”
“Presently?” he laughed. “Do you know what time it is? How long are you going to stay out here?”
“I don’t know. Will you get the shawl?”
“Of course I will,” he said, rising. He went over to the house, walking along the grass. She watched his figure pass in and out of the strips of moonlight. It was past midnight. It was very quiet.
When he returned with the shawl she took it and kept it in her hand. She did not put it around her.
“Did you say I should stay till Mr. Pontellier came back?”
“I said you might if you wished to.”
He seated himself again and rolled a cigarette, which he smoked in silence. Neither did Mrs. Pontellier speak. No multitude of words could have been more significant than those moments of silence, or more pregnant with the first-felt throbbings of desire.
When the voices of the bathers were heard approaching, Robert said good-night. She did not answer him. He thought she was asleep. Again she watched his figure pass in and out of the strips of moonlight as he walked away.
1 dissenting | |
adj.不同意的 | |
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2 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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3 malicious | |
adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
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4 mischievous | |
adj.调皮的,恶作剧的,有害的,伤人的 | |
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5 pretext | |
n.借口,托词 | |
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6 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
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7 mingled | |
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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8 swelled | |
增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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9 foamy | |
adj.全是泡沫的,泡沫的,起泡沫的 | |
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10 crests | |
v.到达山顶(或浪峰)( crest的第三人称单数 );到达洪峰,达到顶点 | |
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11 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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12 futility | |
n.无用 | |
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13 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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14 reassure | |
v.使放心,使消除疑虑 | |
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15 tottering | |
adj.蹒跚的,动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 );踉跄;蹒跚;摇摇欲坠 | |
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16 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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17 exultation | |
n.狂喜,得意 | |
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18 overestimating | |
对(数量)估计过高,对…作过高的评价( overestimate的现在分词 ) | |
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19 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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20 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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21 bouts | |
n.拳击(或摔跤)比赛( bout的名词复数 );一段(工作);(尤指坏事的)一通;(疾病的)发作 | |
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22 intoxicated | |
喝醉的,极其兴奋的 | |
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23 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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24 unlimited | |
adj.无限的,不受控制的,无条件的 | |
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25 smote | |
v.猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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26 appalled | |
v.使惊骇,使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的;丧胆的 | |
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27 faculties | |
n.能力( faculty的名词复数 );全体教职员;技巧;院 | |
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28 regain | |
vt.重新获得,收复,恢复 | |
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29 heed | |
v.注意,留意;n.注意,留心 | |
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30 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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31 assented | |
同意,赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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33 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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34 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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35 penetrating | |
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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36 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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37 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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38 banter | |
n.嘲弄,戏谑;v.取笑,逗弄,开玩笑 | |
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39 flippancy | |
n.轻率;浮躁;无礼的行动 | |
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40 entreaty | |
n.恳求,哀求 | |
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41 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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42 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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43 supercilious | |
adj.目中无人的,高傲的;adv.高傲地;n.高傲 | |
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44 voluptuous | |
adj.肉欲的,骄奢淫逸的 | |
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45 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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46 chilly | |
adj.凉快的,寒冷的 | |
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