Kneeling by the half-open door, Blanche eagerly watched the workings of the poison which she had administered.
She was so near her victim that she could distinguish the throbbing1 of her temples, and sometimes she fancied she could feel upon her cheek her rival’s breath, which scorched3 like flame.
An utter prostration4 followed Marie-Anne’s paroxysm of agony. One would have supposed her dead had it not been for the convulsive workings of the jaws5 and her labored6 breathing.
But soon the nausea7 returned, and she was seized with vomiting8. Each effort to relieve seemed to wrench9 her whole body; and gradually a ghastly tint10 crept over her face, the spots upon her cheeks became more pronounced in tint, her eyes appeared ready to burst from their sockets11, and great drops of perspiration12 rolled down her cheeks.
Her sufferings must have been intolerable. She moaned feebly at times, and occasionally rendered heart-rending shrieks13. Then she faltered14 fragmentary sentences; she begged piteously for water or entreated15 God to shorten her torture.
“Ah, it is horrible! I suffer too much! Death! My God! grant me death!”
She invoked16 all the friends she had ever known, calling for aid in a despairing voice.
She called Mme. d’Escorval, the abbe, Maurice, her brother, Chanlouineau, Martial17!
Martial, this name was more than sufficient to extinguish all pity in the heart of Mme. Blanche.
“Go on! call your lover, call!” she said to herself, bitterly. “He will come too late.”
And as Marie-Anne repeated the name in a tone of agonized18 entreaty19:
“Suffer!” continued Mme. Blanche, “suffer, you who have inspired Martial with the odious20 courage to forsake21 me, his wife, as a drunken lackey22 would abandon the lowest of degraded creatures! Die, and my husband will return to me repentant23.”
No, she had no pity. She felt a difficulty in breathing, but that resulted simply from the instinctive24 horror which the sufferings of others inspire — an entirely25 different physical impression, which is adorned26 with the fine name of sensibility, but which is, in reality, the grossest selfishness.
And yet, Marie-Anne was perceptibly sinking. Soon she had not strength even to moan; her eyes closed, and after a spasm27 which brought a bloody28 foam29 to her lips, her head sank back, and she lay motionless.
“It is over,” murmured Blanche.
She rose, but her limbs trembled so that she could scarcely stand.
Her heart remained firm and implacable; but the flesh failed.
Never had she imagined a scene like that which she had just witnessed. She knew that poison caused death; she had not suspected the agony of that death.
She no longer thought of augmenting30 Marie-Anne’s sufferings by upbraiding31 her. Her only desire now was to leave this house, whose very floor seemed to scorch2 her feet.
A strange, inexplicable32 sensation crept over her; it was not yet fright, it was the stupor33 that follows the commission of a terrible crime — the stupor of the murderer.
Still, she compelled herself to wait a few moments longer; then seeing that Marie-Anne still remained motionless and with closed eyes, she ventured to softly open the door and to enter the room in which her victim was lying.
But she had not advanced three steps before Marie-Anne suddenly, and as if she had been galvanized by an electric battery, rose and extended her arms to bar her enemy’s passage.
This movement was so unexpected and so frightful34 that Mme. Blanche recoiled35.
“The Marquise de Sairmeuse,” faltered Marie-Anne. “You, Blanche — here!”
And her suffering, explained by the presence of this young girl who once had been her friend, but who was now her bitterest enemy, she exclaimed:
“You are my murderer!”
Blanche de Courtornieu’s was one of those iron natures that break, but never bend.
Since she had been discovered, nothing in the world would induce her to deny her guilt36.
She advanced resolutely37, and in a firm voice:
“Yes,” she said, “I have taken my revenge. Do you think I did not suffer that evening when you sent your brother to take away my newly wedded38 husband, upon whose face I have not gazed since?”
“Your husband! I sent to take him away! I do not understand you.”
“Do you then dare to deny that you are not Martial’s mistress!”
“The Marquis de Sairmeuse! I saw him yesterday for the first time since Baron39 d’Escorval’s escape.”
The effort which she had made to rise and to speak had exhausted40 her strength. She fell back in the armchair.
But Blanche was pitiless.
“You have not seen Martial! Tell me, then, who gave you this costly41 furniture, these silken hangings, all the luxury that surrounds you?”
“Chanlouineau.”
Blanche shrugged42 her shoulders.
“So be it,” she said, with an ironical43 smile, “but is it Chanlouineau for whom you are waiting this evening? Is it for Chanlouineau you have warmed these slippers44 and laid this table? Was it Chanlouineau who sent his clothing by a peasant named Poignot? You see that I know all ——”
But her victim was silent.
“For whom are you waiting?” she insisted. “Answer!”
“I cannot!”
“You know that it is your lover! wretched woman — my husband, Martial!”
Marie-Anne was considering the situation as well as her intolerable sufferings and troubled mind would permit.
Could she tell what guests she was expecting?
To name Baron d’Escorval to Blanche, would it not ruin and betray him? They hoped for a safe-conduct, a revision of judgment45, but he was none the less under sentence of death, executory in twenty-four hours.
“So you refuse to tell me whom you expect here in an hour — at midnight.”
“I refuse.”
But a sudden impulse took possession of the sufferer’s mind.
Though the slightest movement caused her intolerable agony, she tore open her dress and drew from her bosom46 a folded paper.
“I am not the mistress of the Marquis de Sairmeuse,” she said, in an almost inaudible voice; “I am the wife of Maurice d’Escorval. Here is the proof — read.”
No sooner had Blanche glanced at the paper, than she became as pale as her victim. Her sight failed her; there was a strange ringing in her ears, a cold sweat started from every pore.
This paper was the marriage-certificate of Maurice and Marie-Anne, drawn47 up by the cure of Vigano, witnessed by the old physician and Bavois, and sealed with the seal of the parish.
The proof was indisputable. She had committed a useless crime; she had murdered an innocent woman.
The first good impulse of her life made her heart beat more quickly. She did not stop to consider; she forgot the danger to which she exposed herself, and in a ringing voice she cried:
“Help! help!”
Eleven o’clock was sounding; the whole country was asleep. The farm-house nearest the Borderie was half a league distant.
The voice of Blanche was lost in the deep stillness of the night.
In the garden below Aunt Medea heard it, perhaps; but she would have allowed herself to be chopped in pieces rather than stir from her place.
And yet, there was one who heard that cry of distress48. Had Blanche and her victim been less overwhelmed with despair, they would have heard a noise upon the staircase which creaked beneath the tread of a man who was cautiously ascending49 it. But it was not a saviour50, for he did not answer the appeal. But even though there had been aid near at hand, it would have come too late.
Marie-Anne felt that there was no longer any hope for her, and that it was the chill of death which was creeping up to her heart. She felt that her life was fast ebbing51 away.
So, when Blanche seemed about to rush out in search of assistance, she detained her by a gesture, and gently said:
“Blanche.”
The murderess paused.
“Do not summon anyone; it would do no good. Remain; be calm, that I may at least die in peace. It will not be long now.”
“Hush! do not speak so. You must not, you shall not die! If you should die — great God! what would my life be afterward52?”
Marie-Anne made no reply. The poison was pursuing its work of dissolution. Her breath made a whistling sound as it forced its way through her inflamed53 throat; her tongue, when she moved it, produced in her mouth the terrible sensation of a piece of red-hot iron; her lips were parched54 and swollen55; her hands, inert56 and paralyzed, would no longer obey her will.
But the horror of the situation restored Blanche’s calmness.
“All is not yet lost,” she exclaimed. “It was in that great box there upon the table, where I found”— she dared not utter the word poison — “the white powder which I poured into the bowl. You know this powder; you must know the antidote57.”
Marie-Anne sadly shook her head.
“Nothing can save me now,” she murmured, in an almost inaudible voice; “but I do not complain. Who knows the misery58 from which death may preserve me? I do not crave59 life; I have suffered so much during the past year; I have endured such humiliation60; I have wept so much! A curse was upon me!”
She was suddenly endowed with that clearness of mental vision so often granted to the dying. She saw how she had wrought61 her own undoing62 by consenting to accept the perfidious63 role imposed upon her by her father, and how she, herself, had paved the way for the falsehoods, slander64, crimes and misfortunes of which she had been the victim.
Her voice grew fainter and fainter. Worn out by suffering, a sensation of drowsiness65 stole over her. She was falling asleep in the arms of death.
Suddenly such a terrible thought pierced the stupor which enveloped66 her that she uttered a heart-breaking cry:
“My child!”
Collecting, by a superhuman effort, all the will, energy, and strength that the poison had left her, she straightened herself in her arm-chair, her features contracted by mortal anguish67.
“Blanche!” she said, with an energy of which one would have supposed her incapable68. “Blanche, listen to me. It is the secret of my life which I am about to disclose; no one suspects it. I have a son by Maurice. Alas69! many months have elapsed since my husband disappeared. If he is dead, what will become of my child? Blanche, you, who have killed me, must swear to me that you will be a mother to my child!”
Blanche was utterly70 overcome.
“I swear!” she sobbed71, “I swear!”
“On that condition, but on that condition alone, I pardon you. But take care! Do not forget your oath! Blanche, God sometimes permits the dead to avenge72 themselves! You have sworn, remember.
“My spirit will allow you no rest if you do not fulfil your vow73.”
“I will remember,” sobbed Blanche; “I will remember. But the child ——”
“Ah! I was afraid — cowardly creature that I was! I dreaded74 the shame — then Maurice insisted — I sent my child away — your jealousy75 and my death are my punishment. Poor child! I abandoned him to strangers. Wretched woman that I am! Ah! this suffering is too horrible. Blanche, remember ——”
She spoke76 again, but her words were indistinct, inaudible.
Blanche frantically77 seized the dying woman’s arm, and endeavored to arouse her.
“To whom have you confided78 your child?” she repeated; “to whom? Marie-Anne — a word more — a single word — a name, Marie-Anne!”
The unfortunate woman’s lips moved, but the death-rattle sounded in her throat; a terrible convulsion shook her form; she slid down from the chair, and fell full length upon the floor.
Marie-Anne was dead — dead, and she had not disclosed the name of the old physician at Vigano to whom she had intrusted her child. She was dead, and the terrified murderess stood in the middle of the room, as rigid79 and motionless as a statue. It seemed to her that madness — a madness like that which had stricken her father — was developing itself in her brain.
She forgot everything; she forgot that a guest was expected at midnight, that time was flying, and that she would surely be discovered if she did not flee.
But the man who had entered when she cried for aid was watching over her. When he saw that Marie-Anne had breathed her last, he made a slight noise at the door, and thrust his leering face into the room.
“Chupin!” faltered Mme. Blanche.
“In the flesh,” he responded. “This was a grand chance for you. Ah, ha! The business riled your stomach a little, but nonsense! that will soon pass off. But we must not dawdle80 here; someone may come in. Let us make haste.”
Mechanically the murderess advanced; but Marie-Anne’s dead body lay between her and the door, barring the passage. To leave the room it was necessary to step over the lifeless form of her victim. She had not courage to do this, and recoiled with a shudder81.
But Chupin was troubled by no such scruples82. He sprang across the body, lifted Blanche as if she had been a child and carried her out of the house.
He was drunk with joy. Fears for the future no longer disquieted83 him, now that Mme. Blanche was bound to him by the strongest of chains — complicity in crime.
He saw himself on the threshold of a life of ease and continual feasting. Remorse84 for Lacheneur’s betrayal had ceased to trouble him. He saw himself sumptuously85 fed, lodged86 and clothed; above all, effectually guarded by an army of servants.
Blanche, who had experienced a feeling of deadly faintness, was revived by the cool night air.
“I wish to walk,” said she.
Chupin placed her on the ground about twenty paces from the house.
“And Aunt Medea!” she exclaimed.
Her relative was beside her; like one of those dogs who are left at the door when their master enters a house, she had, instinctively87 followed her niece on seeing her borne from the cottage by the old poacher.
“We must not stop to talk,” said Chupin. “Come, I will lead the way.”
And taking Blanche by the arm, he hastened toward the grove88.
“Ah! so Marie-Anne had a child,” he said, as they hurried on. “She was pretending to be such a saint! But where the devil has she put it?”
“I shall find it.”
“Hum! That is easier said than done.”
A shrill89 laugh, resounding90 in the darkness, interrupted him. He released his hold on the arm of Blanche and assumed an attitude of defence.
Vain precaution! A man concealed91 behind a tree bounded upon him, and, plunging92 his knife four times into the old poacher’s writhing93 body, cried:
“Holy Virgin94! now is my vow fulfilled! I shall no longer be obliged to eat with my fingers!”
“The innkeeper!” groaned95 the wounded man, sinking to the earth.
For once in her life, Aunt Medea manifested some energy.
“Come!” she shrieked96, wild with fear, dragging her niece away. “Come — he is dead!”
Not quite. The traitor97 had strength to crawl home and knock at the door.
His wife and youngest son were sleeping soundly. His eldest98 son, who had just returned home, opened the door.
Seeing his father prostrate99 on the ground, he thought he was intoxicated100, and tried to lift him and carry him into the house, but the old poacher begged him to desist.
“Do not touch me,” said he. “It is all over with me; but listen; Lacheneur’s daughter has just been poisoned by Madame Blanche. It was to tell you this that I dragged myself here. This knowledge is worth a fortune, my boy, if you are not a fool!”
And he died, without being able to tell his family where he had concealed the price of Lacheneur’s blood.
收听单词发音 |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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scorch
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| v.烧焦，烤焦；高速疾驶；n.烧焦处，焦痕 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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prostration
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| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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vomiting
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| 吐 | |
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wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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invoked
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| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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entreaty
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odious
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forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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lackey
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| n.侍从；跟班 | |
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repentant
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| adj.对…感到悔恨的 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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augmenting
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| 使扩张 | |
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upbraiding
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| adj.& n.谴责（的）v.责备，申斥，谴责( upbraid的现在分词 ) | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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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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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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antidote
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| n.解毒药，解毒剂 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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crave
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| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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perfidious
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| adj.不忠的，背信弃义的 | |
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slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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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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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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dawdle
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| vi.浪费时间；闲荡 | |
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81
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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83
disquieted
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| v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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85
sumptuously
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| 奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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89
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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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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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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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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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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