Time gradually heals all wounds, and in less than a year it was difficult to discern any trace of the fierce whirlwind of passion which had devastated1 the peaceful valley of the Oiselle.
What remained to attest2 the reality of all these events, which, though they were so recent, had already been relegated3 to the domain4 of the legendary5?
A grave in the cemetery7, upon which was inscribed8:
“Marie-Anne Lacheneur, died at the age of twenty. Pray for her!”
Only a few, the oldest men and the politicians of the village, forgot their solicitude9 in regard to the crops to remember this episode.
Sometimes, during the long winter evenings, when they had gathered at the Boeuf Couronne, they laid down their greasy10 cards and gravely discussed the events of the past years.
They never failed to remark that almost all the actors in that bloody11 drama at Montaignac had, in common parlance12, “come to a bad end.”
Victors and vanquished13 seemed to be pursued by the same inexorable fatality14.
Look at the names already upon the fatal list!
Lacheneur, beheaded.
Chanlouineau, shot.
Marie-Anne, poisoned.
Chupin, the traitor15, assassinated16.
The Marquis de Courtornieu lived, or rather survived, but death would have seemed a mercy in comparison with such total annihilation of intelligence. He had fallen below the level of the brute17, which is, at least, endowed with instinct. Since the departure of his daughter he had been cared for by two servants, who did not allow him to give them much trouble, and when they desired to go out they shut him up, not in his chamber18, but in the cellar, to prevent his ravings and shrieks19 from being heard from without.
If people supposed for awhile that the Sairmeuse would escape the fate of the others, they were mistaken. It was not long before the curse fell upon them.
One fine morning in the month of December, the duke left the chateau20 to take part in a wolf-hunt in the neighborhood.
At nightfall, his horse returned, panting, covered with foam21, and riderless.
What had become of its master?
A search was instituted at once, and all night long twenty men, bearing torches, wandered through the woods, shouting and calling at the top of their voices.
Five days went by, and the search for the missing man was almost abandoned, when a shepherd lad, pale with fear, came to the chateau one morning to tell them that he had discovered, at the base of a precipice22, the bloody and mangled23 body of the Duc de Sairmeuse.
It seemed strange that such an excellent rider should have met with such a fate. There might have been some doubt as to its being an accident, had it not been for the explanation given by the grooms24.
“The duke was riding an exceedingly vicious beast,” said these men. “She was always taking fright and shying at everything.”
The following week Jean Lacheneur left the neighborhood.
The conduct of this singular man had caused much comment. When Marie-Anne died, he at first refused his inheritance.
“I wish nothing that came to her through Chanlouineau!” he said everywhere, thus calumniating25 the memory of his sister as he had calumniated26 her when alive.
Then, after a short absence, and without any apparent reason, he suddenly changed his mind.
He not only accepted the property, but made all possible haste to obtain possession of it. He made many excuses; and, if one might believe him, he was not acting27 in his own interest, but merely conforming to the wishes of his deceased sister; and he declared that not a penny would go into his pockets.
This much is certain, as soon as he obtained legal possession of the estate, he sold all the property, troubling himself but little in regard to the price he received, provided the purchasers paid cash.
He reserved only the furniture of the sumptuously28 adorned29 chamber at the Borderie. These articles he burned.
This strange act was the talk of the neighborhood.
“The poor young man has lost his reason!” was the almost universal opinion.
And those who doubted it, doubted it no longer when it became known that Jean Lacheneur had formed an engagement with a company of strolling players who stopped at Montaignac for a few days.
But the young man had not wanted for good advice and kind friends. M. d’Escorval and the abbe had exerted all their eloquence30 to induce him to return to Paris, and complete his studies; but in vain.
The necessity for concealment31 no longer existed, either in the case of the baron32 or the priest.
Thanks to Martial33 de Sairmeuse they were now installed, the one in the presbytery, the other at Escorval, as in days gone by.
Acquitted34 at his new trial, restored to the possession of his property, reminded of his frightful35 fall only by a very slight lameness36, the baron would have deemed himself a fortunate man, had it not been for his great anxiety on his son’s account.
Poor Maurice! his heart was broken by the sound of the clods of earth falling upon Marie-Anne’s coffin37; and his very life now seemed dependent upon the hope of finding his child.
Assured of the powerful assistance of Abbe Midon, he had confessed all to his father, and confided38 his secret to Corporal Bavois, who was an honored guest at Escorval; and these devoted39 friends had promised him all possible aid.
The task was very difficult, however, and certain resolutions on the part of Maurice greatly diminished the chance of success.
Unlike Jean, he was determined40 to guard religiously the honor of the dead; and he had made his friends promise that Marie-Anne’s name should not be mentioned in prosecuting41 the search.
“We shall succeed all the same,” said the abbe, kindly42; “with time and patience any mystery can be solved.”
He divided the department into a certain number of districts; then one of the little band went each day from house to house questioning the inmates43, but not without extreme caution, for fear of arousing suspicion, for a peasant becomes intractable at once if his suspicions are aroused.
But the weeks went by, and the quest was fruitless. Maurice was deeply discouraged.
“My child died on coming into the world,” he said, again and again.
“I am morally certain that such was not the case,” he replied. “I know, by Marie-Anne’s absence, the date of her child’s birth. I saw her after her recovery; she was comparatively gay and smiling. Draw your own conclusions.”
“And yet there is not a nook or corner for miles around which we have not explored.”
“True; but we must extend the circle of our investigations45.”
The priest, now, was only striving to gain time, knowing full well that it is the sovereign balm for all sorrows.
His confidence, which had been very great at first, had been sensibly diminished by the responses of an old woman, who passed for one of the greatest gossips in the community.
Adroitly46 interrogated47, the worthy48 dame49 replied that she knew nothing of such a child, but that there must be one in the neighborhood, since it was the third time she had been questioned on the subject.
Intense as was his surprise, the abbe succeeded in hiding it.
He set the old gossip to talking, and after a two hours’ conversation, he arrived at the conclusion that two persons besides Maurice were searching for Marie-Anne’s child.
Why, with what aim, and who these persons could be the abbe was unable to ascertain50.
“Ah! rascals51 have their uses after all,” he thought. “If we only had a man like Chupin to set upon the track!”
But the old poacher was dead, and his eldest52 son — the one who knew Blanche de Courtornieu’s secret — was in Paris.
Only the widow and the second son remained in Sairmeuse.
They had not, as yet, succeeded in discovering the twenty thousand francs, but the fever for gold was burning in their veins53, and they persisted in their search. From morning until night the mother and son toiled54 on, until the earth around their hut had been explored to the depth of six feet.
A word dropped by a peasant one day put an end to these researches.
“Really, my boy,” he said, addressing young Chupin, “I did not suppose you were such a fool as to persist in hunting birds’ nests after the birds have flown. Your brother, who is in Paris, can undoubtedly55 tell you where the treasure was concealed56.”
The younger Chupin uttered the fierce roar of a wild beast.
“Holy Virgin57! you are right!” he exclaimed. “Wait until I get money enough to take me to Paris, and we will see.”
收听单词发音 |
1
devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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attest
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| vt.证明，证实；表明 | |
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relegated
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| v.使降级( relegate的过去式和过去分词 )；使降职；转移；把…归类 | |
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domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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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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parlance
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| n.说法；语调 | |
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vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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assassinated
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| v.暗杀( assassinate的过去式和过去分词 )；中伤；诋毁；破坏 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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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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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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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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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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calumniating
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| v.诽谤，中伤( calumniate的现在分词 ) | |
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calumniated
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| v.诽谤，中伤( calumniate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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sumptuously
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| 奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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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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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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lameness
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| n. 跛, 瘸, 残废 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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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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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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prosecuting
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| 检举、告发某人( prosecute的现在分词 )； 对某人提起公诉； 继续从事（某事物）； 担任控方律师 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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45
investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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adroitly
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| adv.熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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50
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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51
rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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52
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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54
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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55
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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56
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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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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