They were wandering through the forest in an endeavour to find the high road; the sun, nearly at its full strength, dazzled through the pines and traced figures of gold on the path they followed.
Theirry was silent; they were hungry, without money or any hope of procuring1 any, fatigued2 with the rough walking through the heat, and also, it seemed, lost; these facts were ever present to his mind; also, every step was taking him further away from Jacobea of Martzburg, and he longed to see her again, to make her notice him, speak to him; yet of his own desire he had left her castle ungraciously; these things held him bitterly silent.
But Dirk, though he was pale and weary, kept a light joyous3 heart; he had trust in the master he was serving.
“We shall be helped yet,” he said. “Were we not hopeless last night when one came and gave us shelter?”
Theirry did not answer.
The forest grew up the base of the mountain chain, and after a while, walking steadily4, they came out upon a gorge5 some landslip had torn, uprooting6 trees and hurling7 aside rocks; over this bare space harshly cleared, water rippled8 and dripped, finding its way through fern-grown rocks and boulders9 until it fell into a little stream that ran across the open space of grass and was lost in the shadow of the trees.
By the side of it, on the pleasant stretch of grass, a small white horse was browsing10, and a man sat near, on one of the uprooted11 pines.
The two students paused and contemplated12 him; he was a monk13 in a blue-grey habit; his face was infinitely14 sweet; with his hands clasped in his lap and his head a little raised he gazed with large, peaceful eyes through the shifting fir boughs15 to the blue sky beyond them.
“Of what use he!” said Theirry bitterly; since the Church had hurled16 him out the Devil was gaining such sure possession of his soul that he loathed17 all things holy.
“Nay,” said Dirk, with a little smile. “We will speak to him.”
The monk, hearing their voices, looked round and fixed18 on them a calm smiling gaze. “Dominus det nobis suam pacem,” he said.
Dirk replied instantly.
“Et vitam aeternam. Amen.”
“We have missed our way,” said Theirry curtly19.
The monk rose and stood in a courteous20, humble21 position.
“Can you put us on the high road, my father?” asked Dirk.
“Surely!” The monk glanced at the weary face of his questioner. “I am myself travelling from town to town, my son. And know this country well. Will you not rest a while?”
“Ay.” Dirk came down the slope and flung himself along the grass; Theirry, half sullen22, followed.
“Ye are both weary and in lack of food,” said the monk gently. “Praise be to the angels that I have wherewithal to aid ye.”
He opened one of the leather bags resting against the fallen tree, took out a loaf, a knife and a cup, cut the bread and gave them a portion each, then filled the cup from the clear dripping water.
They disdained23 thanks for such miserable24 fare and ate in silence.
Theirry, when he had finished, asked for the remainder of the loaf and devoured25 that; Dirk was satisfied with his allowance, but he drank greedily of the beautiful water.
“Ye have come from Basle?” asked the monk.
Dirk nodded.
“And we go to Frankfort.”
“A long way,” said the monk cheerfully. “And on foot, but a pleasant journey, certes.” “Who are you, my father?” asked Theirry abruptly26. “I saw you in Courtrai, surely.”
“I am Ambrose of Menthon,” answered the monk. “And I have preached in Courtrai. To the glory of God.”
Both students knew the name of Saint Ambrose.
Theirry flushed uneasily.
“What do you here, father?” he asked. “I thought you were in Rome.”
“I have returned,” replied the saint humbly27. “It came to me that I could serve Christus”— he crossed himself —“better here. If God His angel will it I desire to build a monastery28 up yonder —— above the snow.”
He pointed29 through the trees towards the mountains; his eyes, that were blue-grey, the colour of his habit, sparkled softly.
“A house to God His glory,” he murmured. “In the whiteness of the snows. That is my intent.” “How will you attain30 it, holy sir?” questioned Theirry.
Saint Ambrose did not seem to notice the mocking tone.
“I have,” he said, “already considerable moneys. I beg in the great castles, and they are generous to God His poor servant. We, my brethren and I, have sold some land. I return to them now with much gold. Deo gratias.”
As he spoke31 there was such a pure sweetness in his fair face that Theirry turned away abashed32, but Dirk, lying on his side and pulling up the grass, answered —
“Are you not afraid of robbers, my father?”
The saint smiled.
“Nay; God His money is sacred even unto the evildoer. Surely I fear nothing.”
“There is much wickedness in the heart of man,” said Dirk. And he also smiled.
“Judge with charity,” answered Ambrose of Menthon. “There is also much goodness. You speak, my son, with seeming bitterness which showeth a soul not yet at peace. The wages of the world are worthless, but God giveth immortality33.”
He rose and began fastening the saddle bags on the pony34; as his back was turned Theirry and Dirk exchanged a quick look.
Dirk rose from the grass and spoke.
“May we, my father, come with you, as we know not the way?”
“Surely!” The saint looked at them, his eyes fixed half yearningly35 on Theirry’s beautiful face. “Ye are most welcome to my poor company.”
The little procession started through the pine forest; Ambrose of Menthon, erect36, spare, walking lightly with untroubled face and leading the white pony, burdened with the saddle bags containing the gold; Theirry, sombre, silent, striding beside him, and Dirk, a little behind, in his flame-coloured mantle37, his eyes bright in a weary face.
Saint Ambrose spoke, beautifully, on common things; he spoke of birds, of St. Hieronymus and his writings, of Jovinian and his enemy Ambrose of Milan, of Rufinus and Pelagius the Briton, of Vigilantius and violets, with which flowers, he said, the first court of Paradise was paved.
Dirk answered with a learning, both sacred and profane38, that surprised the monk; he knew all these writers, all the fathers of the Church and many others, he quoted from them in different tongues; he knew Pagan philosophies and the history of the old world; he argued theology like a priest and touched on geometry, mathematics, astrology.
“Ye have a vast knowledge,” said Saint Ambrose, amazed; and in his heart Theirry was jealous.
And so they came, towards evening, on to the road and saw in a valley beneath them a little town.
All three halted.
The Angelus was ringing, the sound came sweetly up the valley.
Saint Ambrose sank on his knees and bowed his head; the students fell back among the trees. “Well?” whispered Dirk.
“It is our chance,” frowned Theirry in the same tone. “I have been thinking of it all day —” “I also; there is much money...”
“We could get it without...blood?”
“Surely, but if need be even that.”
Their eyes met; in the pleasant green shade they saw each other’s excited faces.
“It is God His money,” murmured Theirry.
“What matter for that, if the Devil be stronger?”
“Hush! the Angelus ends.”
“Now — we join him.”
They sank on their knees, to rise as the saint got to his feet and glanced about him; at the edge of the wood they joined him and looked down at the town below.
“Now we can find our way,” said Dirk in a firm, suddenly changed voice.
Ambrose of Menthon considered him over the little white pony.
“Will you not bear me company into the town?” he asked wistfully; he did not notice that Theirry had slipped behind him.
Dirk’s eyes flashed a signal to his companion. “We will into the town,” he said, “but without thy company, Sir Saint, now!”
Theirry flung his mantle from behind and twisted it tightly over the monk’s head and face, causing him to stagger backwards40; Dirk rushed, seized his thin hands, and strapped41 them together with the leather belt he had just loosened from his waist, and between them they dragged him into the trees.
“My ears are weary of thy tedious talk,” said Theirry viciously, “my eyes of thy sickly face.” They took the straps42 from the pony and bound their victim to a tree; it was an easy matter, for he made no resistance and no sound came from under the mantle twisted over his face.
“There is much evil in the heart of man,” mocked Dirk. “And much folly43, oh, guileless, in the hearts of saints!”
Having seen to it that he was securely fastened the two returned to the pony and examined their plunder44.
In one bag there were parchments, books, and a knotted rope, in the other numerous little linen45 sacks of varying sizes.
These they turned out upon the grass and swiftly unfastened the strings46.
Gold — each one filled with gold, fine, shining coins with the head of the Emperor glittering on them.
Dirk retied the sacks and replaced them in the saddle bags; neither of them had seen so much gold together before; because of it they were silent and a little trembling.
Theirry, as he heard the good yellow money chink together, felt his last qualms47 go; for the first time since he had entered into league with the spirits of evil he had plain evidence it was a fine thing to have the Devil on his side. A stupefying pleasure and exaltation came over him, he did not doubt that Satan had sent this saintly man their way, and he was grateful; to find himself possessed48 of this amount of money was a greater delight than any he had known, even a more delightful49 thing than seeing Jacobea of Martzburg lean across the stream towards him.
As they reloaded the pony, managing as best they might without the straps, Dirk fell to laughing.
“I will get my mantle,” said Theirry; he went up to Ambrose of Menthon, telling himself he was not afraid of meeting the saint’s eyes, and unwound the heavy mantle from his head. The saint sank together like the dead.
Dirk still laughed, mounted on the white pony, flourishing a stick.
“The fellow has swooned,” said Theirry, bewildered.
“Well,” answered Dirk over his shoulder, “you can bring the straps, which we need, surely.” Theirry unfastened the monk and laid his slack body on the grass; as he did so he saw that the grey habit was stained with blood, there was wet blood, too, on the straps.
“Now what is this?” he cried, and bent50 over the unconscious man to see where he was wounded.
His searching hand came upon cold iron under the rough robe; Ambrose of Menthon wore a girdle lined with sharp points, that at every movement must have been torture, and that, at their brutal51 binding52 of him, had entered his flesh with an agony unbearable53.
“Make haste!” cried Dirk.
Theirry straightened his back and looked down at the sweet face of Saint Ambrose; he wished that their victim had cried out or moaned, his silence being a hard thing to think of — and he must have been in a pain.
“Be quick!” urged Dirk.
Theirry joined him.
“What shall we do with — that man?” he said awkwardly; his blood was burning, leaping.
“’Tis a case for the angels, not for us,” answered Dirk. “But if ye feel tenderly (and certainly he was pleasant to us) we can tell, in the town, that we found him. ‘Deo gratias,’” he mocked the saintly, low calm voice, but Theirry did not laugh.
A splendid yellow sunset was shimmering54 in their eyes as they came slowly down into the valley and passed through the white street of the little town.
They visited the hostel55, fed the white pony there and recounted how they had seen a monk in the wood they had just traversed, whether unconscious in prayer or for want of breath they had not the leisure to examine.
Then they went on their way, eschewing56, by common consent this time, the accommodation of the homely57 inn, and taking with them a basket of the best food the town afforded.
Clearing the scattered58 cottages they gained the heights again and paused on the grassy59 borders of a mighty60 wood that spread either side the high road.
There they spread a banquet very different from the saint’s poor repast; they had yellow wine, red wine, baked meats, cakes, jellies, a heron and a basket of grapes, all bought with the gold Ambrose of Menthon had toiled61 to collect to build God’s house amid the snows.
Arranging these things on the soft grass they sat in the pleasant shade, luxuriously62, and laughed at each other over their food.
The heavens were perfectly63 clear, there was no cloud in all the great dome64 of sky, and, reflecting on the night before, and how they had stood shivering in the wet, they laughed the more.
Then were they penniless, with neither hope nor prospect65 and in danger of pursuit. Now they were on the high road with more gold in their possession than they had ever seen before, with a horse to carry their burdens, and good food and delicate wine before them.
Their master had proved worth serving. They toasted him in the wine bought with God His money and made merry over it; they did not mention Ambrose of Menthon.
Dirk was supremely66 happy; everything about him was a keen delight, the fragrant67 perfume of the pine woods, the dark purple depths of them, the bright green grass, the sky changing into a richer colour as the sun faded, the mountain peaks tinged68 with pearly rose, the whole beautiful, silent prospect and his comrade looking at him with a smile on his fair face. A troop of white mountain goats driven by a shepherd boy went past, they were the only living things they saw.
Dirk watched them going towards the town, then he said —
“The chatelaine...Jacobea of Martzburg —” he broke off. “Do you remember, the first night we met, what we saw in the mirror? A woman, was it not? Her face — have you forgotten it?” “Nay,” answered Theirry, suddenly sombre.
Dirk turned to look at him closely.
“It was not Jacobea, was it?”
“It was utterly69 different,” said Theirry. “No, she was not Jacobea.”
He propped70 a musing71 face on his hand and stared down at the grass.
Dirk did not speak again, and after a while of silence Theirry slept.
With a start he woke, but lay without moving, his eyes closed; some one was singing, and it was so beautiful that he feared to move lest it should be in his dreams only that he heard it. A woman’s voice, and she sang loud and clearly, in a passion of joyous gaiety; her notes mounted like birds flying up a mountain, then sank like snowflakes softly descending72.
After a while the wordless song died away and Theirry sat up, quivering, in a maze39 of joy. “Who is that?” he called, his eager eyes searching the twilight73.
No one...nothing but the insignificant74 figure of Dirk, who sat at the edge of the wood gazing at the stars.
“I dreamt it,” said Theirry bitterly, and cursed his waking.
收听单词发音 |
1
procuring
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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uprooting
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| n.倒根，挖除伐根v.把（某物）连根拔起( uproot的现在分词 )；根除；赶走；把…赶出家园 | |
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hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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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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uprooted
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| v.把（某物）连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 )；根除；赶走；把…赶出家园 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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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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abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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yearningly
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| 怀念地，思慕地，同情地； 渴 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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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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profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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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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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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qualms
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| n.不安；内疚 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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49
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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50
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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51
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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52
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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53
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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54
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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hostel
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| n.（学生）宿舍，招待所 | |
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56
eschewing
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| v.（尤指为道德或实际理由而）习惯性避开，回避( eschew的现在分词 ) | |
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57
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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58
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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61
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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62
luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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63
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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64
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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66
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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67
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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68
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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70
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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72
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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73
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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