THERE WAS NO DEBAUCH1 of drinking. Far from it. He found that he actually drank less. Something had changed. Trying to analyze2 it, he came to the conclusion that his last drunk had put him on the bottom, at the very nadir3 of frustrated4 despair. Now, unless he put himself under the ground, the only way he could go was up.
After the first few weeks of building up intense hope about the dog, it had slowly dawned on him that intense hope was not the answer and never had been. In a world of monotonous5 horror there could be no salvation6 in wild dreaming. Horror he had adjusted to. But monotony was the greater obstacle, and he realized it now, understood it at long last. And understanding it seemed to give him a sort of quiet peace, a sense of having spread all the cards on his mental table, examined them, and settled conclusively7 on the desired hand.
Burying the dog had not been the agony he had supposed it would be. In a way, it was almost like burying threadbare hopes and false excitements. From that day on he learned to accept the dungeon8 he existed in, neither seeking to escape with sudden derring-do nor beating his pate9 bloody10 on its walls.
And, thus resigned, he returned to work.
It had happened almost a year before, several days after he had put Virginia to her second and final rest.
Hollow and bleak11, a sense of absolute loss in him, he was walking the streets late one afternoon, hands listless at his sides, feet shuffling12 with the rhythm of despair. His face mirrored nothing of the helpless agony he felt. His face was a blank.
He had wandered through the streets for hours, neither knowing nor caring where he was going. All he knew was that he couldn't return to the empty rooms of the house, couldn't look at the things they had touched and held and known with him. He couldn't look at Kathy's empty bed, at her clothes hanging still and useless in the closet, couldn't look at the bed that he and Virginia had slept in, at Virginia's clothes, her jewelry13, all her perfumes on the bureau. He couldn't go near the house.
And so he walked and wandered, and he didn't know where he was when the people started milling past him, when the man caught his arm and breathed garlic in his face.
"Come, brother, come," the man said, his voice a grating rasp. He saw the man's throat moving like clammy turkey skin, the red-splotched cheeks, the feverish14 eyes, the black suit, unpressed, unclean. "Come and be saved, brother, saved."
Robert Neville stared at the man. He didn't understand. The man pulled him on, his fingers like skeleton fingers on Neville's arm.
"It's never too late, brother," said the man. "Salvation comes to him who..."
The last of his words were lost now in the rising murmur15 of sound from the great tent they were approaching. It sounded like the sea imprisoned16 under canvas, roaring to escape. Robert Neville tried to loose his arm.
"I don't want to—"
The man didn't hear. He pulled Neville on with him and they walked toward the waterfall of crying and stamping. The man did not let go. Robert Neville felt as if he were being dragged into a tidal wave.
"But I don't—"
The tent had swallowed him then, the ocean of shouting, stamping, hand-clapping sound engulfed17 him. He flinched18 instinctively19 and felt his heart begin pumping heavily. He was surrounded now by people, hundreds of them, swelling20 and gushing21 around him like waters closing in. And yelling and clapping and crying out words Robert Neville couldn't understand.
Then the cries died down and he heard the voice that stabbed through the half-light like knifing doom22, that crackled and bit shrilly23 over the loud-speaker system.
"Do you want to fear the holy cross of God? Do you want to look into the mirror and not see the face that Almighty24 God has given you? Do you want to come crawling back from the grave like a monster out of hell?"
The voice enjoined25 hoarsely26, pulsing, driving.
"Do you want to be changed into a black unholy animal? Do you want to stain the evening sky with hell-born bat wings? I ask you—do you want to be turned into godless, night-cursed husks, into creatures of eternal damnation?"
"No!" the people erupted, terror-stricken. "No, save us!"
Robert Neville backed away, bumping into flailing-handed, white-jawed true believers screaming out for succor27 from the lowering skies.
"Well, I'm telling you! I'm telling you, so listen to the word of God! Behold28, evil shall go forth29 from nation to nation and the slain30 of the Lord shall be at that day from one end of the earth even unto the other end of the earth! Is that a lie, is that a lie?"
"No! No!"
"I tell you that unless we become as little children, stainless31 and pure in the eyes of Our Lord—unless we stand up and shout out the glory of Almighty God and of His only begotten32 son, Jesus Christ, our Savior—unless we fall on our knees and beg forgiveness for our grievous offenses—we are damned! I'll say it again, so listen! We are damned, we are damned, we are damned!"
"Amen!"
"Save us!"
The people twisted and moaned and smote33 their brows and shrieked34 in mortal terror and screamed out terrible hallelujahs.
Robert Neville was shoved about, stumbling and lost in a treadmill35 of hopes, in a crossfire36 of frenzied37 worship.
"God has punished us for our great transgressions38! God has unleashed39 the terrible force of His almighty wrath40! God has set loose the second deluge41 upon us—a deluge, a flood, a world-consuming torrent42 of creatures from hell! He has opened the grave, He has unsealed the crypt, He has turned the dead from their black tombs—and set them upon us! And death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them! That's the word of God! 0 God, You have punished us, 0 God, You have seen the terrible face of our transgressions, 0 God, You have struck us with the might of Your almighty wrath!"
Clapping hands like the spatter of irregular rifle fire, swaying bodies like stalks in a terrible wind, moans of the great potential dead, screams of the fighting living. Robert Neville strained through their violent ranks, face white, hands before him like those of a blind man seeking shelter.
He escaped, weak and trembling, stumbling away from them. Inside the tent the people screamed. But night had already fallen.
He thought about that now as he sat in the living room nursing a mild drink, a psychology43 text resting on his lap.
A quotation44 had started the train of thought, sending him back to that evening ten months before, when he'd been pulled into the wild revival45 meeting.
"This condition, known as hysterical46 blindness, may be partial or complete, including one, several, or all objects."
That was the quotation he'd read. It had started him working on the problem again.
A new approach now. Before, he had stubbornly persisted in attributing all vampire47 phenomena48 to the germ. If certain of these phenomena did not fit in with the bacilli, he felt inclined to judge their cause as superstition49. True, he'd vaguely50 considered psychological explanations, but he'd never really given much credence51 to such a possibility. Now, released at last from unyielding preconceptions, he did.
There was no reason, he knew, why some of the phenomena could not be physically52 caused, the rest psychological. And, now that he accepted it, it seemed one of those patent answers that only a blind man would miss. Well, I always was the blind-man type, he thought in quiet amusement.
Consider, he thought then, the shock undergone by a victim of the plague.
Toward the end of the plague, yellow journalism53 had spread a cancerous dread54 of vampires55 to all corners of the nation. He could remember himself the rash of pseudoscientific articles that veiled an out-and-out fright campaign designed to sell papers.
There was something grotesquely56 amusing in that; the frenetic attempt to sell papers while the world died. Not that all newspapers had done that. Those papers that had lived in honesty and integrity died the same way.
Yellow journalism, though, had been rampant57 in the final days. And, in addition, a great upsurge in revivalism had occurred. In a typical desperation for quick answers, easily understood, people had turned to primitive58 worship as the solution. With less than success. Not only had they died as quickly as the rest of the people, but they had died with terror in their hearts, with a mortal dread flowing in their very veins59.
And then, Robert Neville thought, to have this hideous60 dread vindicated61. To regain62 consciousness beneath hot, heavy soil and know that death had not brought rest. To find themselves clawing up through the earth, their bodies driven now by a strange, hideous need.
Such traumatic shocks could undo63 what mind was left. And such shocks could explain much.
The cross, first of all.
Once they were forced to accept vindication64 of the dread of being repelled65 by an object that had been a focal point of worship, their minds could have snapped. Dread of the cross sprang up. And, driven on despite already created dreads66, the vampire could have acquired an intense mental loathing67, and this self-hatred could have set up a block in their weakened minds causing them be blind to their own abhorred68 image. It could make them lonely, soul-lost slaves of the night, afraid to approach anyone, living a solitary69 existence, often seeking solace70 in the soil of their native land, struggling to gain a sense of communion with something, with anything.
The water? That he did accept as superstition, a carryover of the traditional legend that witches were incapable71 of crossing running water, as written down in the story of Tam O'Shanter. Witches, vampires—in all these feared beings there was a sort of interwoven kinship. Legends and superstitions72 could overlap73, and did.
And the living vampires? That was simple too now.
In life there were the deranged74, the insane. What better hold than vampirism for these to catch on to? He was certain that all the living who came to his house at night were insane, thinking themselves true vampires although actually they were only demented sufferers. And that would explain the fact that they'd never taken the obvious step of burning his house. They simply could not think that logically.
He remembered the man who one night had climbed to the top of the light post in front of the house and, while Robert Neville had watched through the peephole, had leaped into space, waving his arms frantically75. Neville hadn't been able to explain it at the time, but now the answer seemed obvious. The man had thought he was a bat.
Neville sat looking at the half-finished drink, a thin smile fastened to his lips.
So, he thought, slowly, surely, we find out about them. Find out that they are no invincible76 race. Far from it; they are a highly perishable77 race requiring the strictest of physical conditions for the furtherance of their Godforsaken existence.
He put the drink down on the table.
I don't need it, he thought. My emotions don't need feeding any more. I don't need liquor for forgetting or for escaping. I don't have to escape from anything. Not now.
For the first time since the dog had died he smiled and felt within himself a quiet, well-modulated satisfaction. There were still many things to learn, but not so many as before. Strangely, life was becoming almost bearable. I don the robe of hermit78 without a cry, he thought.
On the phonograph, music played, quiet and unhurried.
Outside, the vampires waited.
收听单词发音 |
1
debauch
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| v.使堕落，放纵 | |
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analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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nadir
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| n.最低点，无底 | |
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frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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conclusively
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| adv.令人信服地，确凿地 | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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pate
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| n.头顶；光顶 | |
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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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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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enjoined
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| v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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succor
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| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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stainless
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| adj.无瑕疵的，不锈的 | |
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begotten
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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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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treadmill
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| n.踏车；单调的工作 | |
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crossfire
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| n.被卷进争端 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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transgressions
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| n.违反，违法，罪过( transgression的名词复数 ) | |
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unleashed
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| v.把（感情、力量等）释放出来，发泄( unleash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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vampire
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| n.吸血鬼 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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credence
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| n.信用，祭器台，供桌，凭证 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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vampires
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| n.吸血鬼( vampire的名词复数 )；吸血蝠；高利贷者；（舞台上的）活板门 | |
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grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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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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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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vindicated
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的过去式和过去分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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vindication
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| n.洗冤，证实 | |
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repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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dreads
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| n.恐惧，畏惧( dread的名词复数 )；令人恐惧的事物v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的第三人称单数 ) | |
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67
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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abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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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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solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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overlap
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| v.重叠，与…交叠；n.重叠 | |
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deranged
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| adj.疯狂的 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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perishable
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| adj.（尤指食物）易腐的，易坏的 | |
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hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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