Before the setting of the same sun, which then shone on that fair landscape, he was far on his way towards Munich. He had left far behind him the mountains of the Tyrol; and beheld3 themfor the last time in the soft evening twilight4, their bases green with forest trees, and here and there, a sharp rocky spire5, and a rounded summit capped with snow. There they lay, their backs, like the backs of camels; a mighty6 caravan7, reposing8 at evening in its march across the desert.
From Munich he passed through Augsburg and Ulm, on his way to Stuttgard. At the entrances of towns and villages, he saw large crucifixes; and on the fronts of many houses, coarse paintings and images of saints. In Gunzburg three priests in black were slowly passing down the street, and women fell on their knees to receive their blessing9. There were many beggars, too, in the streets; and an old man who was making hay in a field by the road-side, when he saw the carriage approaching, threw down his rake, and came tumbling over the ditch, with his hat held out in both hands, uttering the most dismal10 wail11. The next day, the bright yellow jackets of the postilions, and the two great tassels12 of their bugle-horns, dangling13 down their backs, like two cauliflowers, told him he was in Würtemberg; and, late in the evening, he stopped at a hotel in Stuttgard; and from his chamber14-window, saw, in the bright moonlight, the old Gothic cathedral, with its narrow, lancet windows and jutting15 buttresses16, right in front of him. Ere long he had forgotten all his cares and sorrows in sleep, and with them his hopes, and wishes, and good resolves.
He was still sitting at breakfast in his chamber, the next morning, when the great bell of the cathedral opposite began to ring, and reminded him that it was Sunday. Ere long the organ answered from within, and from its golden lips breathed forth17 a psalm18. The congregation began to assemble, and Flemming went up with them to the house of the Lord. In the body of the church he found the pews all filled or locked; they seemed to belong to families. He went up into the gallery, and looked over the psalm-book of a peasant, while the congregation sang the sublime19 old hymn20 of Martin Luther,
"Our God, he is a tower of strength,
A trusty shield and weapon."
During the singing, a fat clergyman, clad in black, with a white surplice thrown loosely about him, came pacing along one of the aisles21, from beneath the organ-loft and ascended22 the pulpit. After the hymn, he read a portion of Scripture23, and then said;
"Let us unite in silent prayer."
And turning round, he knelt in the pulpit, while the congregation remained standing24. For a while there was a breathless silence in the church, which to Flemming was more solemnly impressive than any audible prayer. The clergyman then arose, and began his sermon. His theme was the Reformation; and he attempted to prove how much easier it was to enter the kingdom of Heaven through the gateways25 of the Reformed Evangelical Dutch church, than by the aisles and penitential stair-cases of Saint Peter's. He then gave a history of the Reformation; and, when Flemming thought he was near the end, he heard him say, that he should divide his discourse26 into four heads. This reminded him of the sturdy old Puritan, Cotton Mather, who after preaching an hour, would coolly turn the hour-glass on the pulpit, and say; "Now, my beloved hearers, let us take another glass." He stole out into the silent, deserted27 street, and went to visit the veteran sculptor28 Dannecker. He found him in his parlour, sitting alone, with his psalm-book, and the reminiscences of a life of eighty years. As Flemming entered, he arose from the sofa, and tottered29 towards him; a venerable old man, of low stature30, and dressed in a loose white jacket, with a face like Franklin's, his white hair flowing over his shoulders, and a pale, blue eye.
"So you are from America," said he. "But you have a German name. Paul Flemming was one of our old poets. I have never been in America, and never shall go there. I am now too old. I have been in Paris and in Rome. But that was long ago. I am now eight and seventy years old."
Here he took Flemming by the hand, and made him sit down by his side, on the sofa. And Flemmingfelt a mysterious awe31 creep over him, on touching32 the hand of the good old man, who sat so serenely34 amid the gathering35 shade of years, and listened to life's curfew-bell, telling, with eight and seventy solemn strokes, that the hour had come, when the fires of all earthly passion must be quenched36 within, and man must prepare to lie down and rest till the morning.
"You see," he continued, in a melancholy37 tone, "my hands are cold; colder than yours. They were warmer once. I am now an old man."
"Yet these are the hands," answered Flemming, "that sculptured the beauteous Ariadne and the Panther. The soul never grows old."
"Nor does Nature," said the old man, pleased with this allusion38 to his great work, and pointing to the green trees before his window. "This pleasure I have left to me. My sight is still good. I can even distinguish objects on the side of yonder mountain. My hearing is also unimpaired. For all which, I thank God."
Then, directing Flemming's attention to a fine engraving39, which hung on the opposite wall of the room, he continued;
"That is an engraving of Canova's Religion. I love to sit here and look at it, for hours together. It is beautiful. He made the statue for his native town, where they had no church, until he built them one. He placed the statue in it. This engraving he sent me as a present. Ah, he was a dear, good man. The name of his native town I have forgotten. My memory fails me. I cannot remember names."
Fearful that he had disturbed the old man in his morning devotions, Flemming did not remain long, but took his leave with regret. There was something impressive in the scene he had witnessed;--this beautiful old age of the artist; sitting by the open window, in the bright summer morning,--the labor40 of life accomplished41, the horizon reached, where heaven and earth meet,--thinking it was angel's music, when he heard the church-bells ring; himself too old to go. As he walked back to his chamber, he thought within himself, whether he likewise might not accomplish something, which should live after him;--might not bring something permanent out of this fast-fleeting life of man, and then sit down, like the artist, in serene33 old age, and fold his hands in silence. He wondered how a man felt when he grew so old, that he could no longer go to church, but must sit at home and read the bible in large print. His heart was full of indefinite longings42, mingled43 with regrets; longings to accomplish something worthy44 of life; regret, that as yet he had accomplished nothing, but had felt and dreamed only. Thus the warm days in spring bring forth passion-flowers and forget-menots. It is only after mid-summer, when the days grow shorter and hotter, that fruit begins to appear. Then, the heat of the day brings forward the harvest, and after the harvest, the leaves fall, and there is a gray frost. Much meditating45 upon these things, Paul Flemming reached his hotel. At that moment a person clad in green came down the church-steps, and crossed the street. It was the German student, of Interlachen. Flemming started as if a green snake had suddenly crossed his path. He took refuge in his chamber.
That night as he was sitting alone in his chamber, having made his preparation to depart the following morning, his attention was arrested by the sound of a female voice in the next room. A thin partition, with a door, separated it from his own. He had not before observed that the room was occupied. But, in the stillness of the night, the tones of that voice struck his ear. He listened. It was a lady, reading the prayers of the English Church. The tones were familiar; and awakened46 at once a thousand painfully sweet recollections. It was the voice of Mary Ashburton! His heart could not be deceived; and all its wounds began to bleed afresh, like those of a murdered man, when the murderer approaches. His first impulse was of affection only, boundless47, irrepressible, delirious48, as of old in the green valley of Interlachen. He waited for the voice to cease; that he might go to her, and behold49 her face once more. And then his pride rose up within him, and rebuked50 this weakness. He remembered his firm resolve; and blushed to find himself so feeble. And the voice ceased; and yet he did not go. Pride had so far gained the mastery over affection. He lay down upon his bed, like a child as he was. All about him was silence, and the silence was holy, for she was near; so near that he could almost hear the beating of her heart. He knew now for the first time how weak he was, and how strong his passion for that woman. His heart was like the altar of the Israelites of old; and, though drenched51 with tears, as with rain, it was kindled52 at once by the holy fire from heaven!
Towards morning he fell asleep, exhausted53 with the strong excitement; and, in that hour when, sleep being "nigh unto the soul," visions are deemed prophetic, he dreamed. O blessed visionof the morning, stay! thou wert so fair! He stood again on the green sunny meadow, beneath the ruined towers; and she was by his side, with her pale, speaking countenance54 and holy eyes; and he kissed her fair forehead; and she turned her face towards him beaming with affection and said, "I confess it now; you are the Magician!" and pressed him in a meek55 embrace, that he, "might rather feel than see the swelling56 of her heart." And then she faded away from his arms, and her face became transfigured, and her voice like the voice of an angel in heaven;--and he awoke, and was alone!
It was broad daylight; and he heard the postilion, and the stamping of horses' hoofs57 on the pavement at the door. At the same moment his servant came in, with coffee, and told him all was ready. He did not dare to stay. But, throwing himself into the carriage, he cast one look towards the window of the Dark Ladie, and a moment afterwards had left her forever! He had drunk thelast drop of the bitter cup, and now laid the golden goblet58 gently down, knowing that he should behold it no more!
No more! O how majestically59 mournful are those words! They sound like the roar of the wind through a forest of pines!
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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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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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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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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jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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buttresses
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| n.扶壁，扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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psalm
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| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scripture
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| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
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24
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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gateways
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| n.网关( gateway的名词复数 )；门径；方法；大门口 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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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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allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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engraving
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| n.版画；雕刻（作品）；雕刻艺术；镌版术v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的现在分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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40
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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41
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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43
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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46
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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49
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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50
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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52
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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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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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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