Dirk took off his riding-coat and listened with a smile to the quick step of Theirry overhead; he was again in the long low chamber1 looking out on the witch’s garden, and nothing was changed save that the roses bloomed no longer on the bare thorny2 bushes.
“So you have brought him back,” said Nathalie, caressing3 the youth’s soft sleeve; “pulled his saint out of her shrine4 and given her over to the demons5.”
Dirk turned his head; a beautiful look was in his eyes.
“Yea, I have brought him back,” he said musingly6.
“You have done a foolish thing,” grumbled7 the witch, “he will ruin you yet; beware, for even now you hold him against his will; I marked his face as he went into his old chamber.” Dirk seated himself with a sigh.
“In this matter I am not to be moved, and now some food, for I am so weary that I can scarcely think. Nathalie, the toil8 it has been, the rough roads, the delays, the long hours in the saddle — but it was worth it!”
The witch set the table with a rich service of ivory and silver.
“Worth leaving your fortunes at the crisis? Ye left Frankfort the day after the Emperor died, and have been away two months. Ysabeau thinks you dead.”
Dirk frowned.
“No matter, tomorrow she shall know me living. Martzburg is far away and the weather delayed us, but it had to be; now I am free to work my own advancement9.”
He drank eagerly of the wine put before him, and began to eat.
“Ye have heard,” asked Nathalie, “that Balthasar of Courtrai has been elected Emperor?” “Yea,” smiled Dirk, “and is to marry Ysabeau within the year; we knew it, did we not?” “Next spring they go to Rome to receive the Imperial crown.”
“I shall be with them,” said Dirk. “Well, it is good to rest. What a thick fool Balthasar is!” He smiled, and his eyes sparkled.
“The Empress is a clever woman,” answered the witch, “she came here once to know whither you had gone. I told her, for the jest, that you were dead. At that she must think her secret dead with you, yet she gave no sign of joy nor relief, nor any hint of what her business was.”
Dirk elegantly poured out more wine
“She is never betrayed by her puppet’s face — an iron-hearted fiend, the Empress.” “They say, though, that she is a fool for Balthasar, a dog at his heels.”
“Until she change.”
“Belike you will be her next fancy,” said Nathalie; “the crystals always foretell10 a throne for you.”
Dirk laughed.
“I do not mean to share my honours with any — woman,” he answered; “pile up the fire, Nathalie, certes, it is cold.”
He pushed back his chair with a half sigh on his lips, and turned contented11 eyes on the glowing hearth12 Nathalie replenished13.
“And none has thought evil of Melchoir’s death?” he asked curiously14.
The witch returned to her little stool and rubbed her hands together; the leaping firelight cast a false colour over her face.
“Ay, there was Hugh of Rooselaare.”
Dirk sat up.
“The Lord of Rooselaare?”
“Certes, the night Melchoir died he flung ‘Murderess!’ in the Empress’s face.”
Dirk showed a grave, alert face.
“I never heard of that.”
“Nay,” answered the witch with some malice15, “ye were too well engaged in parting that boy from his love — it is a pretty jest — certainly, she is a clever woman, she enlists16 Balthasar as her champion — he becomes enraged17, furious, and Hugh is cast into the dungeons18 for his pains.” The witch laughed softly. “He would not retract19, his case swayed to and fro, but Balthasar and the Empress always hated him, he had never a chance.”
Dirk rose and pressed his clasped hand to his temple.
“What do you say? never a chance?”
Nathalie stared at him.
“Why, you seem moved.”
“Tell me of Hugh of Rooselaare,” Dirk in an intense voice.
“He is to die to-night at sunset.”
Dirk uttered a hoarse20 exclamation21.
“Old witch!” he cried bitterly, “why tell me this before? I lose time, time.”
He snatched his cloak from the wall and flung on his hat.
“What is Hugh of Rooselaare to you?” asked Nathalie, and she crept across the room and clung to the young man’s garments.
He shook her off fiercely.
“He must not die — he, on the scaffold! I, as you say, I was following that boy and his love while this was happening!”
The witch fell back against the wall, while overhead the restless tread of Theirry sounded. Dirk dashed from the room and out into the quiet street.
For a second he paused; it was late afternoon, he had perhaps an hour or an hour and a half. Clenching22 his hands, he drew a deep breath, and turned in the direction of the palace at a steady run.
By reason of the snow clouds and the bitter cold there were few abroad to notice the slim figure running swiftly and lightly; those who were about made their way in the direction of the market-place, where the Lord of Rooselaare was presently to meet his death.
Dirk arrived at the palace one hand over his heart, stinging him with the pain of his great speed; he demanded the Empress.
None among the guards knew either him or his name, but, at his imperious insistence23, ‘they sent word by a page to Ysabeau that the young doctor Constantine had a desire to see her.
The boy returned, and Dirk was admitted instantly, smiling gloomily to think with what feelings Ysabeau would look on him.
So far all had been swiftly accomplished24; he was conducted to her private chamber and brought face to face with her while he still panted from his running.
She stood against a high arched window that showed the heavy threatening winter clouds without; her purple, green and gold draperies shone warmly in the glitter of the fire; a tray of incense25 stood on the hearth after the manner of the East, and the hazy26 clouds of it rose before her.
Until the page had gone neither spoke27, then Dirk said quickly ——“I returned to Frankfort to — day.”
Ysabeau was agitated28 to fear by his sudden appearance.
“Where have you been?” she asked. “I thought you dead.”
Dirk, pale and grave, gave her a penetrating29 glance.
“I have no time for speech with you now — you owe me something, do you not? Well, I am here to ask part payment.”
“Well — what? I had no wish to be ungrateful, ’twas you avoided me.”
She crossed to the hearth and fixed31 her superb eyes intently on the youth.
“Hugh of Rooselaare is to die this evening,” he said.
“Yea,” answered Ysabeau, and her childish loveliness darkened.
For a while Dirk was silent; he showed suddenly frail32 and ill; on his face was an expression of emotion, mastered and held back.
“He must not die,” he said at last and lifted his eyes, shadowed with fatigue33. “That is what I demand of you, his pardon, now, and at once — we have but little time.”
Ysabeau surveyed him curiously and fearfully.
“You ask too much,” she replied in a low voice; “do you know why this man is to die?” “For speaking the truth,” he said, with a sudden sneer34.
The Empress flushed, and clutched the embroidery35 on her bodice.
“You of all men should know why he must be silenced,” she retorted bitterly. “What is your reason for asking his life?”
Dirk’s mouth took on an ugly curl
“My reason is no matter — it is my will.”
Ysabeau beat her foot on the edge of the Carpet.
“Have I made you so much my master?” she muttered.
The young man answered impatiently.
“You will give me his pardon, and make haste, for I must ride with it to the market-place.” She answered with a lowering glance.
“I think I will not; I am not so afraid of you, and I hate this man — my secret is your secret after all.”
“I can blast you as I blasted Melchoir of Brabant, Ysabeau, and do you think I have any fear of what you can say? But”— he leaned towards her —“suppose I go with what I know to Balthasar?” The name humbled37 the Empress like a whip held over her.
“So, I am helpless,” she muttered, loathing38 him.
“The pardon,” insisted Dirk; “sound the bell and write me a pardon.”
Still she hesitated; it was a hard thing to lose her vengeance39 against a dangerous enemy. “Choose another reward,” she pleaded. “Of what value can this man’s life be to you?”
“You seek to put me off until it be too late,” cried Dirk hoarsely40 — he stepped forward and seized the hand-bell on the table —“now an’ you show yourself obstinate41, I go straight from here to Balthasar and tell him of the poisoning of Melchoir.”
Instinct and desire rose in Ysabeau to defy him with everything in her possession, from her guards to her nails; she shuddered42 with suppressed wrath43, and pressed her little clenched44 hands against the wall.
Her Chamberlain entered.
“Write out a pardon for the Lord of Rooselaare,” commanded Dirk, “and haste, as you love your place.”
When the man had gone, Ysabeau turned with an ill-concealed savagery45.
“What will they think! What will Balthasar think!”
“That must be your business,” said Dirk wearily.
“And Hugh himself!” flashed the Empress. The youth coloured painfully.
“Let him be sent to his castle in Flanders,” he said, with averted46 face. “He must not remain here.”
“So much you give in!” cried Ysabeau. “I do not understand you.”
He responded with a wild look.
“No one will ever understand me, Ysabeau.”
The Chamberlain returned, and in a shaking hand the Empress took the parchment and the reed pen, while Dirk waved the man’s dismissal.
“Sign,” he cried to her.
Ysabeau set the parchment on the table and looked out at the gathering47 clouds; the Lord of Rooselaare must have already left the prison.
She dallied48 with the pen; then took a little dagger49 from her hair and sharpened it; Dirk read her purpose in her lovely evil eyes, and snatched the lingering right hand into his own long fingers.
The Empress drew together and looked up at him bitterly and darkly, but Dirk’s breath stirred the ringlets that touched her cheek, his cool grip guided her reluctant pen; she shivered with fear and defiance50; she wrote her name.
Dirk flung her hand aside with a great sigh of relief.
“Do not try to foil me again, Marozia Porphyrogentris,” he cried, and caught up the parchment, his hat and cloak.
She watched him leave the room; heard the heavy door close behind him, and she writhed51 with rage, thrusting, with an uncontrollable gesture of passion, the dagger into the table; it quivered in the wood, then broke under her hand.
With an ugly cry she ran to the window, flung it open and cast the handle out.
When it rattled52 on the cobbled yard Dirk was already there; he marked it fall, knew the gold and red flash, and smiled.
Showing the parchment signed by the Empress, he had commanded the swiftest horse in the stables. He cursed and shivered, waiting while the seconds fled; his slight figure and fierce face awed53 into silence the youngest in the courtyard as he paced up and down. At last — the horse; one of the grooms54 gave him a whip; he put it under his left arm and leapt to his seat; they opened the gate and watched him take the wind-swept street.
The market-place lay at the other end of the town; and the hour for the execution was close at hand — but the white horse he rode was fresh and strong.
The thick grey clouds had obscured the sunset and covered the sky; a few trembling flakes55 of snow fell, a bitter wind blew between the high narrow houses; here and there a light sparkling in a window emphasized the colourless cold without.
Dirk urged the steed till he rocked in the saddle; curtains were pulled aside and doors opened to see who rode by so furiously; the streets were empty —— but there would be people enough in the marketplace.
He passed the high walls of the college, galloped56 over the bridge that crossed the sullen57 waters of the Main, swept by the open doors of St. Wolfram, then had to draw rein58, for the narrow Street began to be choked with people.
He pulled his hat over his eyes and flung his cloak across the lower half of his face; with one hand he dragged on the bridle59, with the other waved the parchment.
“A pardon!” he cried. “A pardon! Make way!” They drew aside before the plunging60 steed; some answered him —
“It is no pardon — he wears not the Empress’s livery.”
One seized his bridle; Dirk leant from the saddle and dashed the parchment into the fellow’s face, the horse snorted, and plunging cleared a way and gained the market-place.
Here the press was enormous; men, women and children were gathered close round the mounted soldiers who guarded the scaffold; the armour61, yellow and blue uniforms and bright feathers of the horsemen showed vividly62 against the grey houses and greyer sky.
On the scaffold were two dark, graceful63 figures; a man kneeling, with his long throat bare, and a man standing64 with a double-edged sword in his hands.
“A pardon!” shrieked65 Dirk. “In the name of the Emperor!”
He was wedged in the crowd, who made bewildered movements but could not give place to him; the soldiers did not or would not hear.
Dirk rose desperately66 in his stirrups; as he did so the hat and cloak fell back and his head and shoulders were revealed clearly above the swaying mass.
Hugh of Rooselaare heard the cry; he looked across the crowd and his eyes met the eyes of Dirk Renswoude.
“A pardon!” cried Dirk hoarsely; he saw the condemned67 man’s lips move.
The sword fell...
“A woman screamed,” said the monk68 on the scaffold, “and proclaimed a pardon.”
And he pointed69 to the commotion70 gathered about Dirk, while the executioner displayed to the crowd the serene71 head of Hugh of Rooselaare.
“Nay, it was not a woman,” one of the soldiers answered the monk, “’twas this youth.” Dirk forced to the foot of the scaffold.
“Let me through,” he said in a terrible voice; the guard parted; and seeing the parchment in his hand, let him mount the steps.
“You bring a pardon?” whispered the monk.
“I am too late,” said Dirk; he stood among the hurrying blood that stained the platform, and his face was hard.
“Dogs! was this an end for a lord of Rooselaare!” he cried, and clasped his hand on a straining breast. “Could you not have waited a little — but a few moments more?”
The snow was falling fast; it lay on Dirk’s shoulders and on his smooth hair; the monk drew the parchment from his passive hand and read it in a whisper to the officer; they both looked askance at the young man.
“Give me his head,” said Dirk.
The executioner had placed it at a corner of the scaffold; he left off wiping his sword and brought it forward.
Dirk watched without fear or repulsion, and took Hugh’s head in his slim fair hands. “How heavy it is,” he whispered.
The quick distortion of death had left the proud features; Dirk held the face close to his own, with no heed72 to the blood that trickled73 down his doublet.
Priest and captain standing apart, noticed a horrible likeness74 between the dead and the living, but would not speak of it.
“Churl,” said Dirk, gazing into the half-closed grey eyes that resembled so his own. “He spoke — as he saw me; what did he say?”
The headsman polished the mighty75 blade.
“Nought to do with you, or with any,” he answered, “the words had no meaning, certes.” “What were they?” whispered the youth.
“Have you come for me, Ursula?’ then he said again, ‘Ursula.’”
A quiver ran through Dirk’s frame.
“She shall repent76 this, the Eastern witch!” he said wildly. “May the Devil snatch you all to bitter judgment77!”
He turned to the captain, with the head held against his breast.
“What are you going to do with this?”
“His wife has asked for his head and his body that he may be buried befitting his estate.” “His wife!” echoed Dirk; then slowly, “Ay, he had a wife — and a son, sir?”
“The child is dead.”
Dirk set the head down gently by the body.
“And his lands?” he asked.
“They go, sir, by favour of the Empress, to Balthasar of Courtrai, who married, as you may know, this lord’s heiress, Ursula, dead now many years.”
The snow had scattered78 the crowd; the soldiers were impatient to begone; the blood stiffened79 and froze about their feet; Dirk looked down at the dead man with an anguished80 and hopeless expression.
“Sir,” said the officer, “will you return with me to the palace, and we will tell the Empress how this mischance arose, how you came too late.”
“Nay,” replied Dirk fiercely. “Take that good news alone.”
He turned and descended81 the scaffold steps in a proud, gloomy manner.
One of the soldiers held his horse; he mounted in silence and rode away; they who watched saw the thick snowflakes blot82 out the solitary83 figure, and shuddered with no cause they understood.
收听单词发音 |
1
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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foretell
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| v.预言，预告，预示 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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replenished
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| 补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 )； 重新装满 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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enlists
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| v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的第三人称单数 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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dungeons
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| n.地牢( dungeon的名词复数 ) | |
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19
retract
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| vt.缩回，撤回收回，取消 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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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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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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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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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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43
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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44
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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46
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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dallied
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| v.随随便便地对待( dally的过去式和过去分词 )；不很认真地考虑；浪费时间；调情 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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51
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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53
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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55
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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56
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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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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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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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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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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81
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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