Such was the scene, which Paul Flemming beheldfrom his window a few mornings after Berkley's departure. The quiet of the place had soothed11 him. He had become more calm. His heart complained less loudly in the holy village silence, as we are wont12 to lower our voices when those around us speak in whispers. He began to feel at times an interest in the lowly things around him. The face of the landscape pleased him, but more than this the face of the poor woman who sat knitting in the shade. It was a pale, meek13 countenance14, with more delicacy15 in its features than is usual among peasantry. It wore also an expression of patient suffering. As he was looking at her, a deformed16 child came out of the door and hung upon her knees. She caressed17 him affectionately. It was her child; in whom she beheld10 her own fair features distorted and hardly to be recognised, as one sometimes sees his face reflected from the bowl of a spoon.
The child's deformity and the mother's tenderness interested the feelings of Flemming. The landlady18 told him something of the poor woman's history. She was the widow of a blacksmith, who had died soon after their marriage. But she survived to become a mother, just as, in oaks, immediately after fecundation, the male flower fades and falls, while the female continues and ripens19 into perfect fruit. Alas20! her child was deformed. Yet she looked upon him with eyes of maternal21 fondness and pity, loving him still more for his deformity. And in her heart she said, as the Mexicans say to their new-born offspring, "Child, thou art come into the world to suffer. Endure, and hold thy peace." Though poor, she was not entirely22 destitute23; for her husband had left her, beside the deformed child, a life estate in a tomb in the churchyard of Saint Gilgen. During the week she labored24 for other people, and on Sundays for herself, by going to church and reading the Bible. On one of the blank leaves she had recorded the day of her birth, and that of her child's, likewise her marriage and her husband's death. Thus she lived, poor, patient and resigned. Her heart was a passion-flower, bearing within it the crown of thorns and the cross of Christ. Her ideas of Heaven were few and simple. She rejected the doctrine25 that it was a place of constant activity, and not of repose26, and believed, that, when she at length reached it, she should work no more, but sit always in a clean white apron, and sing psalms27.
As Flemming sat meditating28 on these things, he paid new homage29 in his heart to the beauty and excellence30 of the female character. He thought of the absent and the dead; and said, with tears in his eyes;
"Shall I thank God for the green Summer, and the mild air, and the flowers, and the stars, and all that makes this world so beautiful, and not for the good and beautiful beings I have known in it? Has not their presence been sweeter to me than flowers? Are they not higher and holier than the stars? Are they not more to me than all things else?"
Thus the morning passed away in musings; andin the afternoon, when Flemming was preparing to go down to the lake, as his custom was, a carriage drew up before the door, and, to his great astonishment31, out jumped Berkley. The first thing he did was to give the Postmaster, who stood near the door, a smart cut with his whip. The sufferer gently expostulated, saying,
Whereupon Berkley desisted, and began instead to shake the Postmaster's wife by the shoulders, and order his dinner in English. But all this was done so good-naturedly, and with such a rosy33, laughing face, that no offence was taken.
"So you have returned much sooner than you intended;" said Flemming, after the first friendly salutations.
"Yes," replied Berkley; "I got tired of Ischel,--very tired. I did not find the friends there, whom I expected. Now I am going back to Salzburg, and then to Gastein. There I shall certainly find them. You must go with me."
Flemming declined the invitation; and proposedto Berkley, that he should join him in his excursion on the lake.
"You shall hear the grand echo of the Falkenstein," said he, "and behold34 the scene of the Bridal Tragedy; and then we will go on as far as the village of Saint Wolfgang, which you have not yet seen, except across the lake."
"Well, this afternoon I devote to you; for to-morrow we part once more, and who knows when we shall meet again?"
They went down to the water's side without farther delay; and, taking a boat with two oars35, struck across an elbow of the lake towards a barren rock by the eastern shore, from which a small white monument shone in the sun.
"That monument," said one of the boatmen, a stout36 young lad in leather breeches, "was built by a butcher, to the glory of Saint Wolfgang, who saved him from drowning. He was one day riding an ox to market along the opposite bank; when the animal taking fright, sprang into the water, and swam over to this place, with the butcher on his back."
"And do you think he could have done this," asked Berkley; "if Saint Wolfgang had not helped him?"
"Of course not!" answered leather-breeches; and the Englishman laughed.
From this point they rowed along under the shore to a low promontory37, upon which stood another monument, commemorating38 a more tragical39 event.
"This is the place I was speaking of," said Flemming, as the boatmen rested on their oars. "The melancholy40 and singular event it commemorates41 happened more than two centuries ago. There was a bridal party here upon the ice one winter; and in the midst of the dance the ice broke, and the whole merry company were drowned together, except the fiddlers, who were sitting on the shore."
They looked in silence at the monument, and at the blue quiet water, under which the bones of the dancers lay buried, hand in hand. The monument is of stone, painted white, with an over-hangingroof to shelter it from storms. In a niche42 in front is a small image of the Saviour43, in a sitting posture44; and an inscription45, upon a marble tablet below, says that it was placed there by Longinus Walther and his wife Barbara Juliana von Hainberg; themselves long since peacefully crumbled46 to dust, side by side in some churchyard.
"That was breaking the ice with a vengeance47!" said Berkley, as they pushed out into the lake again; and ere long they were floating beneath the mighty48 precipice49 of Falkenstein; a steep wall of rock, crowned with a chapel50 and a hermitage, where in days of old lived the holy Saint Wolfgang. It is now haunted only by an echo, so distinct and loud, that one might imagine the ghost of the departed saint to be sitting there, and repeating the voices from below, not word by word, but sentence by sentence, as if he were passing them up to the recording51 angel.
"Ho! ho! ho!" shouted Berkley; and the sound seemed to strike the wall of stone, like the flapping of steel plates; "Ho! ho! ho! How areyou to-day, Saint Wolfgang! You infernal old rascal52! How is the Frau von Wolfgang!--God save great George the King! Damn your eyes! Hold your tongue! Ho! ho! ha! ha! hi!"
And the words were recorded above; and a voice repeated them with awful distinctness in the blue depths overhead, and Flemming felt in his inmost soul the contrast between the holy heavens, and the mockery of laughter, and the idle words, which fall back from the sky above us and soil not its purity.
In half an hour they were at the village of Saint Wolfgang, threading a narrow street, above which the roofs of quaint53, picturesque54 old houses almost met. It led them to a Gothic church; a magnificent one for a village;--in front of which was a small court, shut in by Italian-looking houses, with balconies, and flowers at the windows. Here a bronze fountain of elaborate workmanship was playing in the shade. On its summit stood an image of the patron Saint of the village; and, running round the under lip of the water-basin below, they read this inscription in old German rhymes;
"I am in the honor of Saint Wolfgang raised. Abbot Wolfgang Habel of Emensee, he hath made me for the use and delight of poor pilgrim wight. Neither gold nor wine hath he; at this water shall he merry be. In the year of the Lord fifteen hundred and fifteen, hath the work completed been. God be praised!"
As they were deciphering the rude characters of this pious55 inscription, a village priest came down a high flight of steps from the parsonage near the church, and courteously56 saluted57 the strangers. After returning the salutation, the mad Englishman, without preface, asked him how many natural children were annually58 born in the parish. The question seemed to astonish the good father, but he answered it civilly, as he did several other questions, which Flemming thought rather indiscreet, to say the least.
"You will excuse our curiosity," said he to the priest, by way of apology. "We are strangersfrom distant countries. My friend is an Englishman and I an American."
Berkley, however, was not so easily silenced. After a few moments' conversation he broke out into most audacious Latin, in which the only words clearly intelligible59 were;
"Plurimum reverende, in Christo religiosissime, ac clarissime Domine, necnon et amice observandissime! Petrus sic est locutus; 'Nec argentum mihi, nec aurum est; sed quod habeo, hoc tibi do; surge et ambula.' "
"Non intellexi, Domine!"
But Berkley continued with great volubility to speak of his being a stranger in the land, and all men being strangers upon earth, and hoping to meet the good priest hereafter in the kingdom of Heaven. The priest seemed confounded, and abashed61. Through the mist of a strange pronunciation he could recognise only here and there afamiliar word. He took out his snuff-box; and tried to quote a passage from Saint Paul;
"Ut dixit Sanctus Paulus; qui bene facit--"
Here his memory failed him, or, as the French say, he was at the end of his Latin, and, stretching forth62 his long forefinger63, he concluded in German;
"Yes;--I don't--so clearly remember--what he did say."
The Englishman helped him through with a moral phrase; and then pulling off his hat, exclaimed very solemnly;
"Vale, domine doctissime et reverendissime!"
And the Dominie, as if pursued by a demon64, made a sudden and precipitate65 retreat down a flight of steps into the street.
"There!" said Berkley laughing, "I beat him at his own weapons. What do you say of my Latin?"
"I say of it," replied Flemming, "what Holophernes said of Sir Nathaniel's; 'Priscian a little scratched; 't will serve.' I think I have heardbetter. But what a whim66! I thought I should have laughed aloud."
They were still sitting by the bronze fountain when the priest returned, accompanied by a short man, with large feet, and a long blue surtout, so greasy67, that it reminded one of Polilla's in the Spanish play, which was lined with slices of pork. His countenance was broad and placid68, but his blue eyes gleamed with a wild, mysterious, sorrowful expression. Flemming thought the Latin contest was to be renewed, with more powder and heavier guns. He was mistaken. The stranger saluted him in German, and said, that, having heard he was from America, he had come to question him about that distant country, for which he was on the point of embarking69. There was nothing peculiar70 in his manner, nor in the questions he asked, nor the remarks he made. They were the usual questions and remarks about cities and climate, and sailing the sea. At length Flemming asked him the object of his journey to America. Thestranger came close up to him, and lowering his voice, said very solemnly;
"That holy man, Frederick Baraga, missionary71 among the Indians at Lacroix, on Lake Superior, has returned to his father-land, Krain; and I am chosen by Heaven to go forth as Minister Extraordinary of Christ, to unite all nations and people in one church!"
Flemming almost started at the singular earnestness, with which he uttered these words; and looked at him attentively72, thinking to see the face of a madman. But the modest, unassuming look of that placid countenance was unchanged; only in the eyes burned a mysterious light, as if candles had been lighted in the brain, to magnify the daylight there.
"It is truly a high vocation," said he in reply. "But are you sure, that this is no hallucination? Are you certain, that you have been chosen by Heaven for this great work?"
"I am certain," replied the German, in a tone of great calmness and sincerity73; "and, if Saint Peter and Saint Paul should come down from Heaven to assure me of it, my faith would be no stronger than it now is. It has been declared to me by many signs and wonders. I can no longer doubt, nor hesitate. I have already heard the voice of the Spirit, speaking to me at night; and I know that I am an apostle; and chosen for this work."
Such was the calm enthusiasm with which he spoke74, that Flemming could not choose but listen. He felt interested in this strange being. There was something awe-inspiring in the spirit that possessed75 him. After a short pause he continued;
"If you wish to know who I am, I can tell you in few words. I think you will not find the story without interest."
He then went on to relate the circumstances recorded in the following chapter.
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1
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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urchins
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| n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 )；淘气鬼；猬；海胆 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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9
pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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10
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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11
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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12
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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deformed
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| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
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caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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ripens
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的第三人称单数 ) | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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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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destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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24
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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25
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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psalms
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| n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 )；圣诗；圣歌；(中的) | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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promontory
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| n.海角；岬 | |
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commemorating
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| v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的现在分词 ) | |
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tragical
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| adj. 悲剧的, 悲剧性的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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41
commemorates
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| n.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的名词复数 )v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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42
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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45
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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46
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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47
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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48
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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49
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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50
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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51
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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52
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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53
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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54
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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55
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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56
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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57
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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annually
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| adv.一年一次，每年 | |
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59
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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60
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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61
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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63
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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64
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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65
precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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66
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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67
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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68
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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69
embarking
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| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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71
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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72
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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73
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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74
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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75
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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