In the ebony cabinet in the Vatican sat Michael II; an expression of utter anguish1 marked his face.
On the gold table were spread books and parchments; the sullen2 light of a stormy midday filtered through the painted curtains and showed the rich splendours of the chamber3, the glittering, closed wings of the shrine4, the carved gold arms of the Pope’s chair, the threads of silver tissue in his crimson5 robe.
He sat very still, his elbow resting on the table, his cheek propped6 on his palm, now and then he looked at the little sand clock.
Presently Paolo Orsini entered; the Pope glanced at him without moving.
“No news?” he asked.
“None of the Lord Theirry, your Holiness.” Michael II moistened his lips.
“They have searched — everywhere?”
“Throughout Rome, your Holiness, but —”
“Well?”
“Only this, my lord, a man might easily disappear — there is no law in the city.”
“He was armed, they said, when he left the palace; have you sent to the convent I told you of —— St. Angela, beyond the Appian Gate?”
“Yea, your Holiness,” answered Orsini, “and they found nought7 but a dead woman.” The Pope averted8 his eyes.
“What did they with her?” Orsini lifted his brows.
“Cast her into the plague pit, Holiness — that quarter is a charnel-house.”
The Pope drew a deep breath.
“Well, he is gone — I do not think him dead,”— he flung back his head — “but the game is over, is it not, Orsini? We fling down our pieces and say — good-night!”
His nostrils9 dilated10, his eyes flashed, he brought his open hand softly on to the table. “What does your Holiness mean?” asked Orsini.
“We mean that this puppet Emperor of ours has forsaken11 us, and that our position becomes perilous,” answered the Pope. “Cardinal12 Narbonne, hurling13 defiance14 at us from Viterbo, grows stronger, and the mob — do not seek to deceive me, Orsini, the mob clamours against us?”
“It is true, my lord.”
The Pope gave a terrible smile, and his beautiful eyes widened.
“And the soldiers mutiny, the Saxons at Trastevere have joined Balthasar and the Veronese have left me — we have not enough men to hold Rome an hour; well, Orsini, you shall take a summons to the Cardinals15 and we will hold a conclave16, there to decide how we may meet our fortune.”
He rose and turned towards the window.
“Hark, do you hear how the factions18 howl below? — begone, Orsini.”
The secretary departed in silence.
Mutterings, murmurings, howlings rose from the accursed city to the Pontiff’s chamber; lightning darted19 from the black heavens, and thunder rolled round the hills of Rome. Michael II walked to and fro in his gorgeous cabinet.
In the three days since Theirry had fled the city, his power had crumbled20 like a handful of sand; Rome had turned against him, and every hour men fell away from his cause.
The devils, too, had forsaken him; he could not raise the spirits, the magic fires would not burn...all was blank darkness and silence.
Up and down he paced, listening to the mob surging in the Piazza21 of St. Peter.
The day wore on and the storm grew in violence.
Paolo Orsini came again to him, his face pale.
“Half the Cardinals are fled to Viterbo and those remaining refuse to acknowledge your Holiness.”
The Pope smiled.
“I had expected it.”
“News comes from a Greek runner that Theirry of Dendermonde is with Balthasar’s host —” “Also I expected that,” said Michael II wildly.
“And they proclaim you,” continued Orsini in an agitated22 manner, “an impostor, one given to evil practices, and by these means incite23 the people against you; Cardinal Orvieto has led a thousand men across the marshes24 to the Emperor’s army —”
“And Theirry of Dendermonde has denounced me!” said the Pope.
As he spoke25 one beat for admission on the gilt26 door. The secretary opened and there entered an Eastern chamberlain.
“Holiness,” he cried fearfully, “the people have set fire to your palace on the Palatine Hill, and Cardinal Colonna, with his brother Octavian, have seized Castel San Angelo for the Emperor, and hold it in defiance of your Grace.”
As he finished the lightning darted info the now darkening chamber, and the thunder mingled27 with the howling of the mob that surged beneath the Vatican walls.
“The captain of my guard and those faithful to me,” answered the Pope, “will know how to do what may be done — apprise28 me of the approach of Balthasar’s host, and now go.”
They left him; he stood for a while listening to those ominous29 sounds that filled the murky30 air, then he pressed a spring in one of the mother-of-pearl panels and stepped into the secret chamber that was revealed.
Cautiously he closed the panel by which he had entered, and looked furtively31 about him.
The small windowless space was lit only by one blood-red lamp, locked cupboards lined the walls, and a huge globe of faint gold, painted with curious and mystic signs, hung from the ceiling.
The Pope’s stiff garments made a soft rustling32 sound as he moved; his quick desperate breathing disturbed the heavy confined air.
In his pallid33 face his eyes rolled and gleamed.
“Sathanas, Sathanas,” he muttered, “is this the end?”
A throbbing35 shook the red-lit gloom, his last words were echoed mournfully —
“The end.”
He clutched his hands into the jewelled embroidery36 on his breast.
“Now you mock me — by my old allegiance, is this the end?”
Again the echo from the dark walls —
“The end.”
The Pope glared in front of him.
“Must I die, Sathanas — must I swiftly die?”
A little confused laughter came before the echo “swiftly die.”
He paced up and down the narrow space.
“I staked my fortunes on that man’s faith and he has forsaken me, and I have lost, lost!” “Lost! lost!”
The Pope laughed frantically37.
“At least she died, Sathanas, her yellow hair rots in the plague pit now; I had some skill left...but what was all my skill if I could not keep him faithful to me —”
He clasped his jewelled hand over his eyes; utter silence followed his words now; the globe of pallid gold trembled in the darkness of the domed38 ceiling, and the mystic characters on it began to writhe39 and move.
“Long had I lived with the earth beneath my feet had I not met that fair sweet fool, and I go to ruin for his sake who has denounced me —”
The red lamp became dull as a dying coal.
“Ye warned me,” breathed the Pope, “that this man would be my bane — you promised on his truth to you and me to halve40 the world between us; he was false, and you have utterly41 forsaken me?”
The echo answered —
“Utterly forsaken...”
The lamp went out.
The pale luminous42 globe expanded to a monstrous43 size, the circle of dark little fiends round it danced and whirled madly..
Then it burst and fell in a thousand fragments at the Pope’s feet.
Out of the darkness came a wail44 as of some thing hurt or dying, then long sighing shook the close air...
The Pope felt along the wall, touched the spring and stepped into the ebony cabinet. He looked quite old and small and bowed.
Night had fallen; the chamber was lit by perfumed candles in curious carved sticks of soapstone; faint veils of incense45 floated in the air.
Without the thunder rolled and threatened, and the factions of Rome fought in the streets.
The Pope sank into a chair and folded his hands in his lap; his head fell forward on his breast; his lips quivered and two tears rolled down his cheeks.
The Angelus bells rang out over the city, there were not many to ring now; as they quivered away a clock struck, quite near.
The Pope did not move.
Once again Paolo Orsini entered, and Michael II averted his face.
“Holiness, Balthasar marches on Rome,” said the secretary, “the mob rush forth46 to join him, and if the gates were brass47, and five times brass, the Vatican could not withstand them.” The Pope spoke without looking round.
“Will they storm the Vatican?”
“Ay, that they will, Holiness,” answered Orsini.
Now the Pontiff turned his white face.
“What may I do?”
“The captain of the guard suggests that ye come to terms with the Emperor, and by submission48 save your life.”
“That I will not.”
“Then it were well if your Holiness would flee; there is a secret way out of the Vatican —” “And that I will not.”
Orsini, too, was very pale.
“Then are you doomed49 to fall into the hands of Balthasar, and he and his faction17 say — horrible things.”
The Pope rose.
“You think they would lay hands on me?
“I do fear it!
“It would be a shameful50 death, Orsini?”
“Surely not that! I cannot think the Emperor would do more than imprison51 your Holiness.” “Well, you are very faithful, Orsini.”
The young Roman shrugged52 his shoulders.
“Cardinal Narbonne is a Colonna, Holiness, and I have always found you a generous master.”
The Pope went to the window. “How they howl!” he said through his teeth, “and Balthasar comes nearer, nearer —”
He checked himself abruptly53.
“I will dine here to-night, Orsini, see that everything is done as usual.”
The secretary bowed himself out of the gilt door. Michael II went to the table on the dais and took from it a scroll54 of parchment.
Standing55 in the centre of the room he unrolled it; some verses were written in a scarlet56 ink on the smooth surface; in a low voice he read aloud the two last.
“If Love were all!
I had lived glad and meek57, Nor heard Ambition call And Valour speak.
If Love were all!”
He smiled bitterly. “But Love is weak.
And often leaves his throne, Among his scattered58 roses pale To weep and moan.
And I, apostate59 to his whispered creed60.
Shall miss his wings above my pall34.
Nor find his face in this my bitter need.
When Love is all!”
“The metre halts,” said Michael II, “the metre... halts.”
He tore the parchment into fragments and scattered them on the floor. Again the gilt doors were opened, this time a chamberlain entered. A herald61 had brought a fierce and grim message from Balthasar.
It spoke of the Pope as Antichrist, and called on him to submit if he would keep his life.
The Pope read it with haughty62 eyes; when he had finished he rent it across and cast the pieces down among the others.
“And ye shall hang the herald,” he said. “We have so much authority.” The chamberlain handed him a second packet, sealed.
“This also the herald brought, Holiness.” “From whom?”
“From Theirry of Dendermonde.”
“Theirry of — of Dendermonde?”
“Yea, Holiness.”
The Pope took the packet.
“Let the herald live,” he said, “but cast him into the dungeons63.”
The chamberlain withdrew.
For a while Michael II stood staring at the packet, while the thunder crashed over Rome. Then he slowly broke the seal.
“What curses have you for me?” he cried wildly. “What curses? You!”
He unfolded the long strip of vellum, and went nearer the candles to read it.
Thus it ran —
“The Emperor’s camp, marching on Rome, Theirry of Dendermonde to Michael, Pope of Rome, thus —
“I am approaching madness, I cannot sleep or rest — after days of torment64 I write to you whom I have twice betrayed. She died on my breast, but I do not care; Balthasar says he saw her walking on the Maremma, but I saw nothing...before she died she said something. I think of you and of nothing else, though I have betrayed you, I have never uttered what she said. No one guesses.
“The uncertainty65, the horror, gnaw66 away my heart. So I write this to you.”
“This is my message —”
“If you are a devil, be satisfied, for your devil’s work is done.”
“If you are a man, you have befriended, wronged me, and I have avenged67 myself.”
“If you are that other thing you may be, then I know you love me, and that I kissed you once.”
“If this last be true, as I do think it true, have some pity on my long ignorance and believe I have it in me to love even as you have loved.”
“Oh, Ursula, I know a city in India where we might live, and you forget you ever ruled in Rome; yonder are other gods who are so old they have forgot to punish, and they would smile on you and me there, Ursula. Balthasar marches on the city, and you must be ruined and discovered — brought to an end so horrible. You have showed me a secret way out of the Vatican, use it now, this night. I am in advance of the host — I shall be without the Appian Gate tonight, and I have means whereby we may fly to the coast and there take ship to India; until we meet, farewell! and in the name of all the passions you have roused in me — come!”
As the Pope read, all the colour slowly left his face; when he had finished he mechanically rolled up the parchment, then unrolled it again.
Thunder shook the Vatican and the mob howled without.
Again he read the letter.
Then he thrust it into one of the candles and watched it blacken, curl, burst into flame. He flung it on the marble floor and set his gold heel on it, grinding it into ashes.
At the usual hour they served his sumptuous68 supper; when it was finished and removed, Paolo Orsini came again.
“Will not your Holiness fly, before it is too late?” All traces of anguish and woe69 had vanished from his master’s features; he looked proud and beautiful.
“I shall stay here; but let them who will, seek safety.”
He dismissed Orsini and the attendants.
It was now late in the evening — and the thunder unceasing.
The Pope locked the door of the cabinet, then went to the gilt table, and wrote a letter rapidly —— this he folded, sealed with purple wax and stamped with his great thumb ring.
He sat silent a little while after this and stared with great luminous eyes before him, then roused himself and unlocked a drawer in the table.
From this he took some documents, tied together with orange silk, and a ring with a red stone in it.
One by one he burnt the parchments in the candle, and when they were reduced to a little pile of ashes he cast the ring into the midst of it and turned away.
He crossed to the window, drew the curtains and looked out over Rome.
In the black heavens, above the black hills, hung a huge meteor, a blazing globe of fire with a trail of flame...
The Pope let the silk fall together again.
He took up one of the candles and went to the gold door that led to his bed-chamber.
Before he opened it he paused a moment; the candle-flame lit his vivid eyes, his haughty face, his glittering vestments..
He turned the handle and entered the dark, spacious70 room
Through the high, undraped window could clearly be seen the star that seemed to burn away the very sky.
The Pope set the candle on a shelf where it showed dim glimpses of white and gold tapestries71, walls of alabaster72, a bed of purple and gilt, mysterious, gorgeous luxury..
He returned to the cabinet and took from the bosom73 of his gown a little bottle of yellow jade74; for the stopper a ruby75 served.
The thunder crashed deafeningly; the lightning seemed to split the room in twain; the Pope stood still, listening.
Then he blew out the candles and returned to his bed-chamber.
Softly he passed into the scented76, splendid chamber and closed the door behind him.
In the little pause between two thunder-peals was the sound of a great key turning in a lock.
收听单词发音 |
1
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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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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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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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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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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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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nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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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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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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12
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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13
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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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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cardinals
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| 红衣主教( cardinal的名词复数 )； 红衣凤头鸟（见于北美，雄鸟为鲜红色）； 基数 | |
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16
conclave
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| n.秘密会议，红衣主教团 | |
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faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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factions
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| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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20
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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incite
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| v.引起，激动，煽动 | |
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24
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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25
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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26
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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27
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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28
apprise
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| vt.通知，告知 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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domed
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| adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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writhe
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| vt.挣扎，痛苦地扭曲；vi.扭曲，翻腾，受苦；n.翻腾，苦恼 | |
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halve
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| vt.分成两半，平分；减少到一半 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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44
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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45
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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46
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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48
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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49
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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50
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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51
imprison
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| vt.监禁，关押，限制，束缚 | |
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52
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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53
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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54
scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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55
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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56
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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57
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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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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59
apostate
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| n.背叛者，变节者 | |
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60
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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61
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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62
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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63
dungeons
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| n.地牢( dungeon的名词复数 ) | |
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64
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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65
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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66
gnaw
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| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
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67
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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68
sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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69
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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70
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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71
tapestries
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| n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 )；绣帷，织锦v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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72
alabaster
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| adj.雪白的；n.雪花石膏；条纹大理石 | |
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73
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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74
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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75
ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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76
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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