Soon the ever-increasing uproar2 around the edifice3, and the uneasy bleating4 of her goat which had been awakened5, had roused her from her slumbers6. She had sat up, she had listened, she had looked; then, terrified by the light and noise, she had rushed from her cell to see. The aspect of the Place, the vision which was moving in it, the disorder7 of that nocturnal assault, that hideous8 crowd, leaping like a cloud of frogs, half seen in the gloom, the croaking9 of that hoarse10 multitude, those few red torches running and crossing each other in the darkness like the meteors which streak12 the misty13 surfaces of marshes14, this whole scene produced upon her the effect of a mysterious battle between the phantoms15 of the witches' sabbath and the stone monsters of the church. Imbued16 from her very infancy17 with the superstitions18 of the Bohemian tribe, her first thought was that she had caught the strange beings peculiar19 to the night, in their deeds of witchcraft20. Then she ran in terror to cower21 in her cell, asking of her pallet some less terrible nightmare.
But little by little the first vapors22 of terror had been dissipated; from the constantly increasing noise, and from many other signs of reality, she felt herself besieged23 not by spectres, but by human beings. Then her fear, though it did not increase, changed its character. She had dreamed of the possibility of a popular mutiny to tear her from her asylum24. The idea of once more recovering life, hope, Phoebus, who was ever present in her future, the extreme helplessness of her condition, flight cut off, no support, her abandonment, her isolation,--these thoughts and a thousand others overwhelmed her. She fell upon her knees, with her head on her bed, her hands clasped over her head, full of anxiety and tremors25, and, although a gypsy, an idolater, and a pagan, she began to entreat26 with sobs28, mercy from the good Christian29 God, and to pray to our Lady, her hostess. For even if one believes in nothing, there are moments in life when one is always of the religion of the temple which is nearest at hand.
She remained thus prostrate30 for a very long time, trembling in truth, more than praying, chilled by the ever-closer breath of that furious multitude, understanding nothing of this outburst, ignorant of what was being plotted, what was being done, what they wanted, but foreseeing a terrible issue.
In the midst of this anguish32, she heard some one walking near her. She turned round. Two men, one of whom carried a lantern, had just entered her cell. She uttered a feeble cry.
"Fear nothing," said a voice which was not unknown to her, "it is I."
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Pierre Gringoire."
This name reassured33 her. She raised her eyes once more, and recognized the poet in very fact. But there stood beside him a black figure veiled from head to foot, which struck her by its silence.
"Oh!" continued Gringoire in a tone of reproach, "Djali recognized me before you!"
The little goat had not, in fact, waited for Gringoire to announce his name. No sooner had he entered than it rubbed itself gently against his knees, covering the poet with caresses34 and with white hairs, for it was shedding its hair. Gringoire returned the caresses.
"Who is this with you?" said the gypsy, in a low voice.
"Be at ease," replied Gringoire. "'Tis one of my friends." Then the philosopher setting his lantern on the ground, crouched36 upon the stones, and exclaimed enthusiastically, as he pressed Djali in his arms,--
"Oh! 'tis a graceful37 beast, more considerable no doubt, for it's neatness than for its size, but ingenious, subtle, and lettered as a grammarian! Let us see, my Djali, hast thou forgotten any of thy pretty tricks? How does Master Jacques Charmolue?..."
The man in black did not allow him to finish. He approached Gringoire and shook him roughly by the shoulder.
Gringoire rose.
"'Tis true," said he: "I forgot that we are in haste. But that is no reason master, for getting furious with people in this manner. My dear and lovely child, your life is in danger, and Djali's also. They want to hang you again. We are your friends, and we have come to save you. Follow us."
"Is it true?" she exclaimed in dismay.
"Yes, perfectly39 true. Come quickly!"
"I am willing," she stammered40. "But why does not your friend speak?"
"Ah!" said Gringoire, "'tis because his father and mother were fantastic people who made him of a taciturn temperament43."
She was obliged to content herself with this explanation. Gringoire took her by the hand; his companion picked up the lantern and walked on in front. Fear stunned44 the young girl. She allowed herself to be led away. The goat followed them, frisking, so joyous45 at seeing Gringoire again that it made him stumble every moment by thrusting its horns between his legs.
"Such is life," said the philosopher, every time that he came near falling down; "'tis often our best friends who cause us to be overthrown46."
They rapidly descended47 the staircase of the towers, crossed the church, full of shadows and solitude48, and all reverberating49 with uproar, which formed a frightful50 contrast, and emerged into the courtyard of the cloister51 by the red door. The cloister was deserted52; the canons had fled to the bishop's palace in order to pray together; the courtyard was empty, a few frightened lackeys53 were crouching54 in dark corners. They directed their steps towards the door which opened from this court upon the Terrain55. The man in black opened it with a key which he had about him. Our readers are aware that the Terrain was a tongue of land enclosed by walls on the side of the City and belonging to the chapter of Notre-Dame56, which terminated the island on the east, behind the church. They found this enclosure perfectly deserted. There was here less tumult57 in the air. The roar of the outcasts' assault reached them more confusedly and less clamorously. The fresh breeze which follows the current of a stream, rustled58 the leaves of the only tree planted on the point of the Terrain, with a noise that was already perceptible. But they were still very close to danger. The nearest edifices59 to them were the bishop's palace and the church. It was plainly evident that there was great internal commotion61 in the bishop's palace. Its shadowy mass was all furrowed63 with lights which flitted from window to window; as, when one has just burned paper, there remains64 a sombre edifice of ashes in which bright sparks run a thousand eccentric courses. Beside them, the enormous towers of Notre-Dame, thus viewed from behind, with the long nave65 above which they rise cut out in black against the red and vast light which filled the Parvis, resembled two gigantic andirons of some cyclopean fire-grate.
What was to be seen of Paris on all sides wavered before the eye in a gloom mingled66 with light. Rembrandt has such backgrounds to his pictures.
The man with the lantern walked straight to the point of the Terrain. There, at the very brink67 of the water, stood the wormeaten remains of a fence of posts latticed with laths, whereon a low vine spread out a few thin branches like the fingers of an outspread hand. Behind, in the shadow cast by this trellis, a little boat lay concealed69. The man made a sign to Gringoire and his companion to enter. The goat followed them. The man was the last to step in. Then he cut the boat's moorings, pushed it from the shore with a long boat- hook, and, seizing two oars11, seated himself in the bow, rowing with all his might towards midstream. The Seine is very rapid at this point, and he had a good deal of trouble in leaving the point of the island.
Gringoire's first care on entering the boat was to place the goat on his knees. He took a position in the stern; and the young girl, whom the stranger inspired with an indefinable uneasiness, seated herself close to the poet.
When our philosopher felt the boat sway, he clapped his hands and kissed Djali between the horns.
"Oh!" said he, "now we are safe, all four of us."
He added with the air of a profound thinker, "One is indebted sometimes to fortune, sometimes to ruse70, for the happy issue of great enterprises."
The boat made its way slowly towards the right shore. The young girl watched the unknown man with secret terror. He had carefully turned off the light of his dark lantern. A glimpse could be caught of him in the obscurity, in the bow of the boat, like a spectre. His cowl, which was still lowered, formed a sort of mask; and every time that he spread his arms, upon which hung large black sleeves, as he rowed, one would have said they were two huge bat's wings. Moreover, he had not yet uttered a word or breathed a syllable71. No other noise was heard in the boat than the splashing of the oars, mingled with the rippling72 of the water along her sides.
"On my soul!" exclaimed Gringoire suddenly, "we are as cheerful and joyous as young owls73! We preserve the silence of Pythagoreans or fishes! ~Pasque-Dieu~! my friends, I should greatly like to have some one speak to me. The human voice is music to the human ear. 'Tis not I who say that, but Didymus of Alexandria, and they are illustrious words. Assuredly, Didymus of Alexandria is no mediocre74 philosopher.--One word, my lovely child! say but one word to me, I entreat you. By the way, you had a droll75 and peculiar little pout76; do you still make it? Do you know, my dear, that parliament hath full jurisdiction77 over all places of asylum, and that you were running a great risk in your little chamber78 at Notre-Dame? Alas79! the little bird trochylus maketh its nest in the jaws80 of the crocodile.--Master, here is the moon re-appearing. If only they do not perceive us. We are doing a laudable thing in saving mademoiselle, and yet we should be hung by order of the king if we were caught. Alas! human actions are taken by two handles. That is branded with disgrace in one which is crowned in another. He admires Cicero who blames Catiline. Is it not so, master? What say you to this philosophy? I possess philosophy by instinct, by nature, ~ut apes geometriam~.--Come! no one answers me. What unpleasant moods you two are in! I must do all the talking alone. That is what we call a monologue81 in tragedy.--~Pasque-Dieu~! I must inform you that I have just seen the king, Louis XI., and that I have caught this oath from him,--~Pasque-Dieu~! They are still making a hearty82 howl in the city.--'Tis a villanous, malicious83 old king. He is all swathed in furs. He still owes me the money for my epithalamium, and he came within a nick of hanging me this evening, which would have been very inconvenient84 to me.--He is niggardly85 towards men of merit. He ought to read the four books of Salvien of Cologne, _Adversits Avaritiam_. In truth! 'Tis a paltry86 king in his ways with men of letters, and one who commits very barbarous cruelties. He is a sponge, to soak money raised from the people. His saving is like the spleen which swelleth with the leanness of all the other members. Hence complaints against the hardness of the times become murmurs87 against the prince. Under this gentle and pious88 sire, the gallows89 crack with the hung, the blocks rot with blood, the prisons burst like over full bellies90. This king hath one hand which grasps, and one which hangs. He is the procurator of Dame Tax and Monsieur Gibbet. The great are despoiled91 of their dignities, and the little incessantly92 overwhelmed with fresh oppressions. He is an exorbitant93 prince. I love not this monarch94. And you, master?"
The man in black let the garrulous95 poet chatter96 on. He continued to struggle against the violent and narrow current, which separates the prow97 of the City and the stem of the island of Notre-Dame, which we call to-day the Isle98 St. Louis.
"By the way, master!" continued Gringoire suddenly. "At the moment when we arrived on the Parvis, through the enraged99 outcasts, did your reverence100 observe that poor little devil whose skull101 your deaf man was just cracking on the railing of the gallery of the kings? I am near sighted and I could not recognize him. Do you know who he could be?"
The stranger answered not a word. But he suddenly ceased rowing, his arms fell as though broken, his head sank on his breast, and la Esmeralda heard him sigh convulsively. She shuddered103. She had heard such sighs before.
The boat, abandoned to itself, floated for several minutes with the stream. But the man in black finally recovered himself, seized the oars once more and began to row against the current. He doubled the point of the Isle of Notre Dame, and made for the landing-place of the Port an Foin.
"Ah!" said Gringoire, "yonder is the Barbeau mansion104.--Stay, master, look: that group of black roofs which make such singular angles yonder, above that heap of black, fibrous grimy, dirty clouds, where the moon is completely crushed and spread out like the yolk105 of an egg whose shell is broken.--'Tis a fine mansion. There is a chapel106 crowned with a small vault107 full of very well carved enrichments. Above, you can see the bell tower, very delicately pierced. There is also a pleasant garden, which consists of a pond, an aviary108, an echo, a mall, a labyrinth109, a house for wild beasts, and a quantity of leafy alleys110 very agreeable to Venus. There is also a rascal111 of a tree which is called 'the lewd112,' because it favored the pleasures of a famous princess and a constable113 of France, who was a gallant114 and a wit.--Alas! we poor philosophers are to a constable as a plot of cabbages or a radish bed to the garden of the Louvre. What matters it, after all? human life, for the great as well as for us, is a mixture of good and evil. Pain is always by the side of joy, the spondee by the dactyl.--Master, I must relate to you the history of the Barbeau mansion. It ends in tragic115 fashion. It was in 1319, in the reign116 of Philippe V., the longest reign of the kings of France. The moral of the story is that the temptations of the flesh are pernicious and malignant117. Let us not rest our glance too long on our neighbor's wife, however gratified our senses may be by her beauty. Fornication is a very libertine118 thought. Adultery is a prying119 into the pleasures of others--Ohé! the noise yonder is redoubling!"
The tumult around Notre-Dame was, in fact, increasing. They listened. Cries of victory were heard with tolerable distinctness. All at once, a hundred torches, the light of which glittered upon the helmets of men at arms, spread over the church at all heights, on the towers, on the galleries, on the flying buttresses120. These torches seemed to be in search of something; and soon distant clamors reached the fugitives121 distinctly :--"The gypsy! the sorceress! death to the gypsy!"
The unhappy girl dropped her head upon her hands, and the unknown began to row furiously towards the shore. Meanwhile our philosopher reflected. He clasped the goat in his arms, and gently drew away from the gypsy, who pressed closer and closer to him, as though to the only asylum which remained to her.
It is certain that Gringoire was enduring cruel perplexity. He was thinking that the goat also, "according to existing law," would be hung if recaptured; which would be a great pity, poor Djali! that he had thus two condemned123 creatures attached to him; that his companion asked no better than to take charge of the gypsy. A violent combat began between his thoughts, in which, like the Jupiter of the Iliad, he weighed in turn the gypsy and the goat; and he looked at them alternately with eyes moist with tears, saying between his teeth:
"But I cannot save you both!"
A shock informed them that the boat had reached the land at last. The uproar still filled the city. The unknown rose, approached the gypsy, and endeavored to take her arm to assist her to alight. She repulsed124 him and clung to the sleeve of Gringoire, who, in his turn, absorbed in the goat, almost repulsed her. Then she sprang alone from the boat. She was so troubled that she did not know what she did or whither she was going. Thus she remained for a moment, stunned, watching the water flow past; when she gradually returned to her senses, she found herself alone on the wharf125 with the unknown. It appears that Gringoire had taken advantage of the moment of debarcation to slip away with the goat into the block of houses of the Rue38 Grenier-sur-l'Eau.
The poor gypsy shivered when she beheld126 herself alone with this man. She tried to speak, to cry out, to call Gringoire; her tongue was dumb in her mouth, and no sound left her lips. All at once she felt the stranger's hand on hers. It was a strong, cold hand. Her teeth chattered127, she turned paler than the ray of moonlight which illuminated128 her. The man spoke129 not a word. He began to ascend130 towards the Place de Grève, holding her by the hand.
At that moment, she had a vague feeling that destiny is an irresistible131 force. She had no more resistance left in her, she allowed herself to be dragged along, running while he walked. At this spot the quay132 ascended133. But it seemed to her as though she were descending134 a slope.
She gazed about her on all sides. Not a single passer-by. The quay was absolutely deserted. She heard no sound, she felt no people moving save in the tumultuous and glowing city, from which she was separated only by an arm of the Seine, and whence her name reached her, mingled with cries of "Death!" The rest of Paris was spread around her in great blocks of shadows.
Meanwhile, the stranger continued to drag her along with the same silence and the same rapidity. She had no recollection of any of the places where she was walking. As she passed before a lighted window, she made an effort, drew up suddenly, and cried out, "Help!"
The bourgeois135 who was standing31 at the window opened it, appeared there in his shirt with his lamp, stared at the quay with a stupid air, uttered some words which she did not understand, and closed his shutter136 again. It was her last gleam of hope extinguished.
The man in black did not utter a syllable; he held her firmly, and set out again at a quicker pace. She no longer resisted, but followed him, completely broken.
From time to time she called together a little strength, and said, in a voice broken by the unevenness137 of the pavement and the breathlessness of their flight, "Who are you? Who are you?" He made no reply.
They arrived thus, still keeping along the quay, at a tolerably spacious138 square. It was the Grève. In the middle, a sort of black, erect139 cross was visible; it was the gallows. She recognized all this, and saw where she was.
The man halted, turned towards her and raised his cowl.
"Oh!" she stammered, almost petrified140, "I knew well that it was he again!"
It was the priest. He looked like the ghost of himself; that is an effect of the moonlight, it seems as though one beheld only the spectres of things in that light.
"Listen!" he said to her; and she shuddered at the sound of that fatal voice which she had not heard for a long time. He continued speaking with those brief and panting jerks, which betoken141 deep internal convulsions. "Listen! we are here. I am going to speak to you. This is the Grève. This is an extreme point. Destiny gives us to one another. I am going to decide as to your life; you will decide as to my soul. Here is a place, here is a night beyond which one sees nothing. Then listen to me. I am going to tell you...In the first place, speak not to me of your Phoebus. (As he spoke thus he paced to and fro, like a man who cannot remain in one place, and dragged her after him.) Do not speak to me of him. Do you see? If you utter that name, I know not what I shall do, but it will be terrible."
Then, like a body which recovers its centre of gravity, he became motionless once more, but his words betrayed no less agitation142. His voice grew lower and lower.
"Do not turn your head aside thus. Listen to me. It is a serious matter. In the first place, here is what has happened.--All this will not be laughed at. I swear it to you.--What was I saying? Remind me! Oh!--There is a decree of Parliament which gives you back to the scaffold. I have just rescued you from their hands. But they are pursuing you. Look!"
He extended his arm toward the City. The search seemed, in fact, to be still in progress there. The uproar drew nearer; the tower of the lieutenant's house, situated143 opposite the Grève, was full of clamors and light, and soldiers could be seen running on the opposite quay with torches and these cries, "The gypsy! Where is the gypsy! Death! Death!"
"You see that they are in pursuit of you, and that I am not lying to you. I love you.--Do not open your mouth; refrain from speaking to me rather, if it be only to tell me that you hate me. I have made up my mind not to hear that again.--I have just saved you.--Let me finish first. I can save you wholly. I have prepared everything. It is yours at will. If you wish, I can do it."
He broke off violently. "No, that is not what I should say!"
As he went with hurried step and made her hurry also, for he did not release her, he walked straight to the gallows, and pointed144 to it with his finger,--
"Choose between us two," he said, coldly.
She tore herself from his hands and fell at the foot of the gibbet, embracing that funereal145 support, then she half turned her beautiful head, and looked at the priest over her shoulder. One would have said that she was a Holy Virgin146 at the foot of the cross. The priest remained motionless, his finger still raised toward the gibbet, preserving his attitude like a statue. At length the gypsy said to him,--
"It causes me less horror than you do."
Then he allowed his arm to sink slowly, and gazed at the pavement in profound dejection.
"If these stones could speak," he murmured, "yes, they would say that a very unhappy man stands here.
He went on. The young girl, kneeling before the gallows, enveloped147 in her long flowing hair, let him speak on without interruption. He now had a gentle and plaintive148 accent which contrasted sadly with the haughty149 harshness of his features.
"I love you. Oh! how true that is! So nothing comes of that fire which burns my heart! Alas! young girl, night and day--yes, night and day I tell you,--it is torture. Oh! I suffer too much, my poor child. 'Tis a thing deserving of compassion150, I assure you. You see that I speak gently to you. I really wish that you should no longer cherish this horror of me.--After all, if a man loves a woman, 'tis not his fault!--Oh, my God!--What! So you will never pardon me? You will always hate me? All is over then. It is that which renders me evil, do you see? and horrible to myself.--You will not even look at me! You are thinking of something else, perchance, while I stand here and talk to you, shuddering151 on the brink of eternity152 for both of us! Above all things, do not speak to me of the officer!--I would cast myself at your knees, I would kiss not your feet, but the earth which is under your feet; I would sob27 like a child, I would tear from my breast not words, but my very heart and vitals, to tell you that I love you;--all would be useless, all!--And yet you have nothing in your heart but what is tender and merciful. You are radiant with the most beautiful mildness; you are wholly sweet, good, pitiful, and charming. Alas! You cherish no ill will for any one but me alone! Oh! what a fatality153!"
He hid his face in his hands. The young girl heard him weeping. It was for the first time. Thus erect and shaken by sobs, he was more miserable154 and more suppliant155 than when on his knees. He wept thus for a considerable time.
"Come!" he said, these first tears passed, "I have no more words. I had, however, thought well as to what you would say. Now I tremble and shiver and break down at the decisive moment, I feel conscious of something supreme156 enveloping157 us, and I stammer41. Oh! I shall fall upon the pavement if you do not take pity on me, pity on yourself. Do not condemn122 us both. If you only knew how much I love you! What a heart is mine! Oh! what desertion of all virtue158! What desperate abandonment of myself! A doctor, I mock at science; a gentleman, I tarnish159 my own name; a priest, I make of the missal a pillow of sensuality, I spit in the face of my God! all this for thee, enchantress! to be more worthy160 of thy hell! And you will not have the apostate161! Oh! let me tell you all! more still, something more horrible, oh! Yet more horrible!...."
As he uttered these last words, his air became utterly162 distracted. He was silent for a moment, and resumed, as though speaking to himself, and in a strong voice,--
"Cain, what hast thou done with thy brother?"
There was another silence, and he went on--
"What have I done with him, Lord? I received him, I reared him, I nourished him, I loved him, I idolized him, and I have slain163 him! Yes, Lord, they have just dashed his head before my eyes on the stone of thine house, and it is because of me, because of this woman, because of her."
His eye was wild. His voice grew ever weaker; he repeated many times, yet, mechanically, at tolerably long intervals164, like a bell prolonging its last vibration165: "Because of her.--Because of her."
Then his tongue no longer articulated any perceptible sound; but his lips still moved. All at once he sank together, like something crumbling166, and lay motionless on the earth, with his head on his knees.
A touch from the young girl, as she drew her foot from under him, brought him to himself. He passed his hand slowly over his hollow cheeks, and gazed for several moments at his fingers, which were wet, "What!" he murmured, "I have wept!"
And turning suddenly to the gypsy with unspeakable anguish,--
"Alas! you have looked coldly on at my tears! Child, do you know that those tears are of lava167? Is it indeed true? Nothing touches when it comes from the man whom one does not love. If you were to see me die, you would laugh. Oh! I do not wish to see you die! One word! A single word of pardon! Say not that you love me, say only that you will do it; that will suffice; I will save you. If not--oh! the hour is passing. I entreat you by all that is sacred, do not wait until I shall have turned to stone again, like that gibbet which also claims you! Reflect that I hold the destinies of both of us in my hand, that I am mad,--it is terrible,--that I may let all go to destruction, and that there is beneath us a bottomless abyss, unhappy girl, whither my fall will follow yours to all eternity! One word of kindness! Say one word! only one word!"
She opened her mouth to answer him. He flung himself on his knees to receive with adoration168 the word, possibly a tender one, which was on the point of issuing from her lips. She said to him, "You are an assassin!"
The priest clasped her in his arms with fury, and began to laugh with an abominable169 laugh.
"Well, yes, an assassin!" he said, "and I will have you. You will not have me for your slave, you shall have me for your master. I will have you! I have a den60, whither I will drag you. You will follow me, you will be obliged to follow me, or I will deliver you up! You must die, my beauty, or be mine! belong to the priest! belong to the apostate! belong to the assassin! this very night, do you hear? Come! joy; kiss me, mad girl! The tomb or my bed!"
His eyes sparkled with impurity170 and rage. His lewd lips reddened the young girl's neck. She struggled in his arms. He covered her with furious kisses.
"Do not bite me, monster!" she cried. "Oh! the foul171, odious172 monk173! leave me! I will tear out thy ugly gray hair and fling it in thy face by the handful!"
He reddened, turned pale, then released her and gazed at her with a gloomy air. She thought herself victorious174, and continued,--
"I tell you that I belong to my Phoebus, that 'tis Phoebus
whom I love, that 'tis Phoebus who is handsome! you are old, priest! you are ugly! Begone!"
He gave vent175 to a horrible cry, like the wretch176 to whom a hot iron is applied177. "Die, then!" he said, gnashing his teeth. She saw his terrible look and tried to fly. He caught her once more, he shook her, he flung her on the ground, and walked with rapid strides towards the corner of the Tour- Roland, dragging her after him along the pavement by her beautiful hands.
On arriving there, he turned to her,--
"For the last time, will you be mine?"
She replied with emphasis,--
"No!"
Then he cried in a loud voice,--
"Gudule! Gudule! here is the gypsy! take your vengeance178!"
The young girl felt herself seized suddenly by the elbow. She looked. A fleshless arm was stretched from an opening in the wall, and held her like a hand of iron.
"Hold her well," said the priest; "'tis the gypsy escaped. Release her not. I will go in search of the sergeants179. You shall see her hanged."
A guttural laugh replied from the interior of the wall to these bloody181 words--"Hah! hah! hah!"--The gypsy watched the priest retire in the direction of the Pont Notre-Dame. A cavalcade182 was heard in that direction.
The young girl had recognized the spiteful recluse183. Panting with terror, she tried to disengage herself. She writhed184, she made many starts of agony and despair, but the other held her with incredible strength. The lean and bony fingers which bruised186 her, clenched187 on her flesh and met around it. One would have said that this hand was riveted188 to her arm. It was more than a chain, more than a fetter189, more than a ring of iron, it was a living pair of pincers endowed with intelligence, which emerged from the wall.
She fell back against the wall exhausted190, and then the fear of death took possession of her. She thought of the beauty of life, of youth, of the view of heaven, the aspects of nature, of her love for Phoebus, of all that was vanishing and all that was approaching, of the priest who was denouncing her, of the headsman who was to come, of the gallows which was there. Then she felt terror mount to the very roots of her hair and she heard the mocking laugh of the recluse, saying to her in a very low tone: "Hah! hah! hah! you are going to be hanged!"
She turned a dying look towards the window, and she beheld the fierce face of the sacked nun191 through the bars.
"What have I done to you?" she said, almost lifeless.
The recluse did not reply, but began to mumble192 with a singsong irritated, mocking intonation193: "Daughter of Egypt! daughter of Egypt! daughter of Egypt!"
The unhappy Esmeralda dropped her head beneath her flowing hair, comprehending that it was no human being she had to deal with.
All at once the recluse exclaimed, as though the gypsy's question had taken all this time to reach her brain,--"'What have you done to me?' you say! Ah! what have you done to me, gypsy! Well! listen.--I had a child! you see! I had a child! a child, I tell you!--a pretty little girl!--my Agnes!" she went on wildly, kissing something in the dark.--"Well! do you see, daughter of Egypt? they took my child from me; they stole my child; they ate my child. That is what you have done to me."
The young girl replied like a lamb,--
"Alas! perchance I was not born then!"
"Oh! yes!" returned the recluse, "you must have been born. You were among them. She would be the same age as you! so!--I have been here fifteen years; fifteen years have I suffered; fifteen years have I prayed; fifteen years have I beat my head against these four walls--I tell you that 'twas the gypsies who stole her from me, do you hear that? and who ate her with their teeth.--Have you a heart? imagine a child playing, a child sucking; a child sleeping. It is so innocent a thing!--Well! that, that is what they took from me, what they killed. The good God knows it well! To-day, it is my turn; I am going to eat the gypsy.--Oh! I would bite you well, if the bars did not prevent me! My head is too large!--Poor little one! while she was asleep! And if they woke her up when they took her, in vain she might cry; I was not there!--Ah! gypsy mothers, you devoured195 my child! come see your own."
Then she began to laugh or to gnash her teeth, for the two things resembled each other in that furious face. The day was beginning to dawn. An ashy gleam dimly lighted this scene, and the gallows grew more and more distinct in the square. On the other side, in the direction of the bridge of Notre-Dame, the poor condemned girl fancied that she heard the sound of cavalry196 approaching.
"Madam," she cried, clasping her hands and falling on her knees, dishevelled, distracted, mad with fright; "madam! have pity! They are coming. I have done nothing to you. Would you wish to see me die in this horrible fashion before your very eyes? You are pitiful, I am sure. It is too frightful. Let me make my escape. Release me! Mercy. I do not wish to die like that!"
"Give me back my child!" said the recluse.
"Mercy! Mercy!"
"Give me back my child!"
"Release me, in the name of heaven!"
"Give me back my child!"
Again the young girl fell; exhausted, broken, and having already the glassy eye of a person in the grave.
"Alas!" she faltered197, "you seek your child, I seek my parents."
"Give me back my little Agnes!" pursued Gudule. "You do not know where she is? Then die!--I will tell you. I was a woman of the town, I had a child, they took my child. It was the gypsies. You see plainly that you must die. When your mother, the gypsy, comes to reclaim198 you, I shall say to her: 'Mother, look at that gibbet!--Or, give me back my child. Do you know where she is, my little daughter? Stay! I will show you. Here is her shoe, all that is left me of her. Do you know where its mate is? If you know, tell me, and if it is only at the other end of the world, I will crawl to it on my knees."
As she spoke thus, with her other arm extended through the window, she showed the gypsy the little embroidered199 shoe. It was already light enough to distinguish its shape and its colors.
"Let me see that shoe," said the gypsy, quivering. "God! God!"
And at the same time, with her hand which was at liberty, she quickly opened the little bag ornamented200 with green glass, which she wore about her neck.
"Go on, go on!" grumbled201 Gudule, "search your demon's amulet202!"
All at once, she stopped short, trembled in every limb, and cried in a voice which proceeded from the very depths of her being: "My daughter!"
The gypsy had just drawn203 from the bag a little shoe absolutely similar to the other. To this little shoe was attached a parchment on which was inscribed204 this charm,--
~Quand le parell retrouveras Ta mere42 te tendras les bras~.*
* When thou shalt find its mate, thy mother will stretch out her arms to thee.
Quicker than a flash of lightning, the recluse had laid the two shoes together, had read the parchment and had put close to the bars of the window her face beaming with celestial205 joy as she cried,--
"My daughter! my daughter!"
"My mother!" said the gypsy.
Here we are unequal to the task of depicting206 the scene. The wall and the iron bars were between them. "Oh! the wall!" cried the recluse. "Oh! to see her and not to embrace her! Your hand! your hand!"
The young girl passed her arm through the opening; the recluse threw herself on that hand, pressed her lips to it and there remained, buried in that kiss, giving no other sign of life than a sob which heaved her breast from time to time. In the meanwhile, she wept in torrents208, in silence, in the dark, like a rain at night. The poor mother poured out in floods upon that adored hand the dark and deep well of tears, which lay within her, and into which her grief had filtered, drop by drop, for fifteen years.
All at once she rose, flung aside her long gray hair from her brow, and without uttering a word, began to shake the bars of her cage cell, with both hands, more furiously than a lioness. The bars held firm. Then she went to seek in the corner of her cell a huge paving stone, which served her as a pillow, and launched it against them with such violence that one of the bars broke, emitting thousands of sparks. A second blow completely shattered the old iron cross which barricaded209 the window. Then with her two hands, she finished breaking and removing the rusted210 stumps211 of the bars. There are moments when woman's hands possess superhuman strength.
A passage broken, less than a minute was required for her to seize her daughter by the middle of her body, and draw her into her cell. "Come let me draw you out of the abyss," she murmured.
When her daughter was inside the cell, she laid her gently on the ground, then raised her up again, and bearing her in her arms as though she were still only her little Agnes, she walked to and fro in her little room, intoxicated212, frantic213, joyous, crying out, singing, kissing her daughter, talking to her, bursting into laughter, melting into tears, all at once and with vehemence214.
"My daughter! my daughter!" she said. "I have my daughter! here she is! The good God has given her back to me! Ha you! come all of you! Is there any one there to see that I have my daughter? Lord Jesus, how beautiful she is! You have made me wait fifteen years, my good God, but it was in order to give her back to me beautiful.--Then the gypsies did not eat her! Who said so? My little daughter! my little daughter! Kiss me. Those good gypsies! I love the gypsies!--It is really you! That was what made my heart leap every time that you passed by. And I took that for hatred215! Forgive me, my Agnes, forgive me. You thought me very malicious, did you not? I love you. Have you still the little mark on your neck? Let us see. She still has it. Oh! you are beautiful! It was I who gave you those big eyes, mademoiselle. Kiss me. I love you. It is nothing to me that other mothers have children; I scorn them now. They have only to come and see. Here is mine. See her neck, her eyes, her hair, her hands. Find me anything as beautiful as that! Oh! I promise you she will have lovers, that she will! I have wept for fifteen years. All my beauty has departed and has fallen to her. Kiss me."
She addressed to her a thousand other extravagant216 remarks, whose accent constituted their sole beauty, disarranged the poor girl's garments even to the point of making her blush, smoothed her silky hair with her hand, kissed her foot, her knee, her brow, her eyes, was in raptures217 over everything. The young girl let her have her way, repeating at intervals and very low and with infinite tenderness, "My mother!"
"Do you see, my little girl," resumed the recluse, interspersing218 her words with kisses, "I shall love you dearly? We will go away from here. We are going to be very happy. I have inherited something in Reims, in our country. You know Reims? Ah! no, you do not know it; you were too small! If you only knew how pretty you were at the age of four months! Tiny feet that people came even from Epernay, which is seven leagues away, to see! We shall have a field, a house. I will put you to sleep in my bed. My God! my God! who would believe this? I have my daughter!"
"Oh, my mother!" said the young girl, at length finding strength to speak in her emotion, "the gypsy woman told me so. There was a good gypsy of our band who died last year, and who always cared for me like a nurse. It was she who placed this little bag about my neck. She always said to me: 'Little one, guard this jewel well! 'Tis a treasure. It will cause thee to find thy mother once again. Thou wearest thy mother about thy neck.'--The gypsy predicted it!"
The sacked nun again pressed her daughter in her arms.
"Come, let me kiss you! You say that prettily219. When we are in the country, we will place these little shoes on an infant Jesus in the church. We certainly owe that to the good, holy Virgin. What a pretty voice you have! When you spoke to me just now, it was music! Ah! my Lord God! I have found my child again! But is this story credible185? Nothing will kill one--or I should have died of joy."
And then she began to clap her hands again and to laugh and to cry out: "We are going to be so happy!"
At that moment, the cell resounded220 with the clang of arms and a galloping221 of horses which seemed to be coming from the Pont Notre-Dame, amid advancing farther and farther along the quay. The gypsy threw herself with anguish into the arms of the sacked nun.
"Save me! save me! mother! they are coming!"
"Oh, heaven! what are you saying? I had forgotten! They are in pursuit of you! What have you done?"
"I know not," replied the unhappy child; "but I am condemned to die."
"To die!" said Gudule, staggering as though struck by lightning; "to die!" she repeated slowly, gazing at her daughter with staring eyes.
"Yes, mother," replied the frightened young girl, "they want to kill me. They are coming to seize me. That gallows is for me! Save me! save me! They are coming! Save me!"
The recluse remained for several moments motionless and petrified, then she moved her head in sign of doubt, and suddenly giving vent to a burst of laughter, but with that terrible laugh which had come back to her,--
"Ho! ho! no! 'tis a dream of which you are telling me. Ah, yes! I lost her, that lasted fifteen years, and then I found her again, and that lasted a minute! And they would take her from me again! And now, when she is beautiful, when she is grown up, when she speaks to me, when she loves me; it is now that they would come to devour194 her, before my very eyes, and I her mother! Oh! no! these things are not possible. The good God does not permit such things as that."
Here the cavalcade appeared to halt, and a voice was heard to say in the distance,--
"This way, Messire Tristan! The priest says that we shall find her at the Rat-Hole." The noise of the horses began again.
The recluse sprang to her feet with a shriek223 of despair. "Fly! fly! my child! All comes back to me. You are right. It is your death! Horror! Maledictions! Fly!"
She thrust her head through the window, and withdrew it again hastily.
"Remain," she said, in a low, curt224, and lugubrious225 tone, as she pressed the hand of the gypsy, who was more dead than alive. "Remain! Do not breathe! There are soldiers everywhere. You cannot get out. It is too light."
Her eyes were dry and burning. She remained silent for a moment; but she paced the cell hurriedly, and halted now and then to pluck out handfuls of her gray hairs, which she afterwards tore with her teeth.
Suddenly she said: "They draw near. I will speak with them. Hide yourself in this corner. They will not see you. I will tell them that you have made your escape. That I released you, i' faith!"
She set her daughter (down for she was still carrying her), in one corner of the cell which was not visible from without. She made her crouch35 down, arranged her carefully so that neither foot nor hand projected from the shadow, untied226 her black hair which she spread over her white robe to conceal68 it, placed in front of her her jug227 and her paving stone, the only articles of furniture which she possessed228, imagining that this jug and stone would hide her. And when this was finished she became more tranquil229, and knelt down to pray. The day, which was only dawning, still left many shadows in the Rat-Hole.
At that moment, the voice of the priest, that infernal voice, passed very close to the cell, crying,--
"This way, Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers."
At that name, at that voice, la Esmeralda, crouching in her corner, made a movement.
"Do not stir!" said Gudule.
She had barely finished when a tumult of men, swords, and horses halted around the cell. The mother rose quickly and went to post herself before her window, in order to stop it up. She beheld a large troop of armed men, both horse and foot, drawn up on the Grève.
The commander dismounted, and came toward her.
"Old woman!" said this man, who had an atrocious face, "we are in search of a witch to hang her; we were told that you had her."
The poor mother assumed as indifferent an air as she could, and replied,--
"I know not what you mean."
The other resumed, "~Tête Dieu~! What was it that frightened archdeacon said? Where is he?"
"Monseigneur," said a soldier, "he has disappeared."
"Come, now, old madwoman," began the commander again, "do not lie. A sorceress was given in charge to you. What have you done with her?"
The recluse did not wish to deny all, for fear of awakening230 suspicion, and replied in a sincere and surly tone,--
"If you are speaking of a big young girl who was put into my hands a while ago, I will tell you that she bit me, and that I released her. There! Leave me in peace."
The commander made a grimace231 of disappointment. "Don't lie to me, old spectre!" said he. "My name is Tristan l'Hermite, and I am the king's gossip. Tristan the Hermit232, do you hear?" He added, as he glanced at the Place de Grève around him, "'Tis a name which has an echo here."
"You might be Satan the Hermit," replied Gudule, who was regaining233 hope, "but I should have nothing else to say to you, and I should never be afraid of you."
"~Tête-Dieu~," said Tristan, "here is a crone! Ah! So the witch girl hath fled! And in which direction did she go?" Gudule replied in a careless tone,--
"Through the Rue du Mouton, I believe."
Tristan turned his head and made a sign to his troop to prepare to set out on the march again. The recluse breathed freely once more.
"Monseigneur," suddenly said an archer234, "ask the old elf why the bars of her window are broken in this manner."
This question brought anguish again to the heart of the miserable mother. Nevertheless, she did not lose all presence of mind.
They have always been thus," she stammered.
"Bah!" retorted the archer, "only yesterday they still formed a fine black cross, which inspired devotion."
Tristan east a sidelong glance at the recluse.
"I think the old dame is getting confused!"
The unfortunate woman felt that all depended on her self- possession, and, although with death in her soul, she began to grin. Mothers possess such strength.
"Bah!" said she, "the man is drunk. 'Tis more than a year since the tail of a stone cart dashed against my window and broke in the grating. And how I cursed the carter, too."
"'Tis true," said another archer, "I was there."
Always and everywhere people are to be found who have seen everything. This unexpected testimony235 from the archer re-encouraged the recluse, whom this interrogatory was forcing to cross an abyss on the edge of a knife. But she was condemned to a perpetual alternative of hope and alarm.
"If it was a cart which did it," retorted the first soldier, "the stumps of the bars should be thrust inwards, while they actually are pushed outwards236."
"Ho! ho!" said Tristan to the soldier, "you have the nose of an inquisitor of the Chatelet. Reply to what he says, old woman."
"Good heavens!" she exclaimed, driven to bay, and in a voice that was full of tears in despite of her efforts, "I swear to you, monseigneur, that 'twas a cart which broke those bars. You hear the man who saw it. And then, what has that to do with your gypsy?"
"Hum!" growled237 Tristan.
"The devil!" went on the soldier, flattered by the provost's praise, "these fractures of the iron are perfectly fresh."
Tristan tossed his head. She turned pale.
"How long ago, say you, did the cart do it?"
"A month, a fortnight, perhaps, monseigheur, I know not."
"She first said more than a year," observed the soldier.
"That is suspicious," said the provost.
"Monseigneur!" she cried, still pressed against the opening, and trembling lest suspicion should lead them to thrust their heads through and look into her cell; "monseigneur, I swear to you that 'twas a cart which broke this grating. I swear it to you by the angels of paradise. If it was not a cart, may I be eternally damned, and I reject God!"
"You put a great deal of heat into that oath;" said Tristan, with his inquisitorial glance.
The poor woman felt her assurance vanishing more and more. She had reached the point of blundering, and she comprehended with terror that she was saying what she ought not to have said.
Here another soldier came up, crying,--
"Monsieur, the old hag lies. The sorceress did not flee through the Rue de Mouton. The street chain has remained stretched all night, and the chain guard has seen no one pass."
Tristan, whose face became more sinister238 with every moment, addressed the recluse,--
"What have you to say to that?"
She tried to make head against this new incident,
"That I do not know, monseigneur; that I may have been mistaken. I believe, in fact, that she crossed the water."
"That is in the opposite direction," said the provost, "and it is not very likely that she would wish to re-enter the city, where she was being pursued. You are lying, old woman."
"And then," added the first soldier, "there is no boat either on this side of the stream or on the other."
"She swam across," replied the recluse, defending her ground foot by foot.
"Do women swim?" said the soldier.
"~Tête Dieu~! old woman! You are lying!" repeated Tristan angrily. "I have a good mind to abandon that sorceress and take you. A quarter of an hour of torture will, perchance, draw the truth from your throat. Come! You are to follow us."
She seized on these words with avidity.
"As you please, monseigneur. Do it. Do it. Torture. I am willing. Take me away. Quick, quick! let us set out at once!--During that time," she said to herself, "my daughter will make her escape."
"'S death!" said the provost, "what an appetite for the rack! I understand not this madwoman at all."
An old, gray-haired sergeant180 of the guard stepped out of the ranks, and addressing the provost,--
"Mad in sooth, monseigneur. If she released the gypsy, it was not her fault, for she loves not the gypsies. I have been of the watch these fifteen years, and I hear her every evening cursing the Bohemian women with endless imprecations. If the one of whom we are in pursuit is, as I suppose, the little dancer with the goat, she detests239 that one above all the rest."
Gudule made an effort and said,--
"That one above all."
The unanimous testimony of the men of the watch confirmed the old sergeant's words to the provost. Tristan l'Hermite, in despair at extracting anything from the recluse, turned his back on her, and with unspeakable anxiety she beheld him direct his course slowly towards his horse.
"Come!" he said, between his teeth, "March on! let us set out again on the quest. I shall not sleep until that gypsy is hanged."
But he still hesitated for some time before mounting his horse. Gudule palpitated between life and death, as she beheld him cast about the Place that uneasy look of a hunting dog which instinctively240 feels that the lair241 of the beast is close to him, and is loath242 to go away. At length he shook his head and leaped into his saddle. Gudule's horribly compressed heart now dilated243, and she said in a low voice, as she cast a glance at her daughter, whom she had not ventured to look at while they were there, "Saved!"
The poor child had remained all this time in her corner, without breathing, without moving, with the idea of death before her. She had lost nothing of the scene between Gudule and Tristan, and the anguish of her mother had found its echo in her heart. She had heard all the successive snappings of the thread by which she hung suspended over the gulf244; twenty times she had fancied that she saw it break, and at last she began to breathe again and to feel her foot on firm ground. At that moment she heard a voice saying to the provost: "~Corboeuf~! Monsieur le Prev?t, 'tis no affair of mine, a man of arms, to hang witches. The rabble245 of the populace is suppressed. I leave you to attend to the matter alone. You will allow me to rejoin my company, who are waiting for their captain."
The voice was that of Phoebus de Chateaupers; that which took place within her was ineffable246. He was there, her friend, her protector, her support, her refuge, her Phoebus. She rose, and before her mother could prevent her, she had rushed to the window, crying,--
"Phoebus! aid me, my Phoebus!"
Phoebus was no longer there. He had just turned the corner of the Rue de la Coutellerie at a gallop222. But Tristan had not yet taken his departure.
The recluse rushed upon her daughter with a roar of agony. She dragged her violently back, digging her nails into her neck. A tigress mother does not stand on trifles. But it was too late. Tristan had seen.
"Hé! hé!" he exclaimed with a laugh which laid bare all his teeth and made his face resemble the muzzle247 of a wolf, "two mice in the trap!"
"I suspected as much," said the soldier.
Tristan clapped him on the shoulder,--
"You are a good cat! Come!" he added, "where is Henriet Cousin?"
A man who had neither the garments nor the air of a soldier, stepped from the ranks. He wore a costume half gray, half brown, flat hair, leather sleeves, and carried a bundle of ropes in his huge hand. This man always attended Tristan, who always attended Louis XI.
"Friend," said Tristan l'Hermite, "I presume that this is the sorceress of whom we are in search. You will hang me this one. Have you your ladder?"
"There is one yonder, under the shed of the Pillar-House," replied the man. "Is it on this justice that the thing is to be done?" he added, pointing to the stone gibbet.
"Yes."
"Ho, hé!" continued the man with a huge laugh, which was still more brutal248 than that of the provost, "we shall not have far to go."
"Make haste!" said Tristan, "you shall laugh afterwards."
In the meantime, the recluse had not uttered another word since Tristan had seen her daughter and all hope was lost. She had flung the poor gypsy, half dead, into the corner of the cellar, and had placed herself once more at the window with both hands resting on the angle of the sill like two claws. In this attitude she was seen to cast upon all those soldiers her glance which had become wild and frantic once more. At the moment when Rennet Cousin approached her cell, she showed him so savage249 a face that he shrank back.
"Monseigneur," he said, returning to the provost, "which am I to take?"
"The young one."
"So much the better, for the old one seemeth difficult."
"Poor little dancer with the goat!" said the old sergeant of the watch.
Rennet Cousin approached the window again. The mother's eyes made his own droop250. He said with a good deal of timidity,--
"Madam"--
She interrupted him in a very low but furious voice,--
"What do you ask?"
"It is not you," he said, "it is the other."
"What other?"
"The young one."
She began to shake her head, crying,--
"There is no one! there is no one! there is no one!"
"Yes, there is!" retorted the hangman, "and you know it well. Let me take the young one. I have no wish to harm you."
She said, with a strange sneer251,--
"Ah! so you have no wish to harm me!"
"Let me have the other, madam; 'tis monsieur the provost who wills it."
She repeated with a look of madness,--
"There is no one here."
"I tell you that there is!" replied the executioner. "We have all seen that there are two of you."
"Look then!" said the recluse, with a sneer. "Thrust your head through the window."
The executioner observed the mother's finger-nails and dared not.
"Make haste!" shouted Tristan, who had just ranged his troops in a circle round the Rat-Hole, and who sat on his horse beside the gallows.
Rennet returned once more to the provost in great embarrassment252. He had flung his rope on the ground, and was twisting his hat between his hands with an awkward air.
"Monseigneur," he asked, "where am I to enter?"
"By the door."
"There is none."
"By the window."
"'Tis too small."
"Make it larger," said Tristan angrily. "Have you not pickaxes?"
The mother still looked on steadfastly253 from the depths of her cavern254. She no longer hoped for anything, she no longer knew what she wished, except that she did not wish them to take her daughter.
Rennet Cousin went in search of the chest of tools for the night man, under the shed of the Pillar-House. He drew from it also the double ladder, which he immediately set up against the gallows. Five or six of the provost's men armed themselves with picks and crowbars, and Tristan betook himself, in company with them, towards the window.
"Old woman," said the provost, in a severe tone, "deliver up to us that girl quietly."
She looked at him like one who does not understand.
"~Tête Dieu~!" continued Tristan, "why do you try to prevent this sorceress being hung as it pleases the king?"
The wretched woman began to laugh in her wild way.
"Why? She is my daughter."
The tone in which she pronounced these words made even Henriet Cousin shudder102.
"I am sorry for that," said the provost, "but it is the king's good pleasure."
She cried, redoubling her terrible laugh,--
"What is your king to me? I tell you that she is my daughter!"
"Pierce the wall," said Tristan.
In order to make a sufficiently255 wide opening, it sufficed to dislodge one course of stone below the window. When the mother heard the picks and crowbars mining her fortress256, she uttered a terrible cry; then she began to stride about her cell with frightful swiftness, a wild beasts' habit which her cage had imparted to her. She no longer said anything, but her eyes flamed. The soldiers were chilled to the very soul.
All at once she seized her paving stone, laughed, and hurled257 it with both fists upon the workmen. The stone, badly flung (for her hands trembled), touched no one, and fell short under the feet of Tristan's horse. She gnashed her teeth.
In the meantime, although the sun had not yet risen, it was broad daylight; a beautiful rose color enlivened the ancient, decayed chimneys of the Pillar-House. It was the hour when the earliest windows of the great city open joyously258 on the roofs. Some workmen, a few fruit-sellers on their way to the markets on their asses259, began to traverse the Grève; they halted for a moment before this group of soldiers clustered round the Rat-Hole, stared at it with an air of astonishment260 and passed on.
The recluse had gone and seated herself by her daughter, covering her with her body, in front of her, with staring eyes, listening to the poor child, who did not stir, but who kept murmuring in a low voice, these words only, "Phoebus! Phoebus!" In proportion as the work of the demolishers seemed to advance, the mother mechanically retreated, and pressed the young girl closer and closer to the wall. All at once, the recluse beheld the stone (for she was standing guard and never took her eyes from it), move, and she heard Tristan's voice encouraging the workers. Then she aroused from the depression into which she had fallen during the last few moments, cried out, and as she spoke, her voice now rent the ear like a saw, then stammered as though all kind of maledictions were pressing to her lips to burst forth261 at once.
"Ho! ho! ho! Why this is terrible! You are ruffians! Are you really going to take my daughter? Oh! the cowards! Oh! the hangman lackeys! the wretched, blackguard assassins! Help! help! fire! Will they take my child from me like this? Who is it then who is called the good God?"
Then, addressing Tristan, foaming262 at the mouth, with wild eyes, all bristling263 and on all fours like a female panther,--
"Draw near and take my daughter! Do not you understand that this woman tells you that she is my daughter? Do you know what it is to have a child? Eh! lynx, have you never lain with your female? have you never had a cub264? and if you have little ones, when they howl have you nothing in your vitals that moves?"
"Throw down the stone," said Tristan; "it no longer holds."
The crowbars raised the heavy course. It was, as we have said, the mother's last bulwark265.
She threw herself upon it, she tried to hold it back; she scratched the stone with her nails, but the massive block, set in movement by six men, escaped her and glided266 gently to the ground along the iron levers.
The mother, perceiving an entrance effected, fell down in front of the opening, barricading267 the breach268 with her body, beating the pavement with her head, and shrieking269 with a voice rendered so hoarse by fatigue270 that it was hardly audible,--
"Help! fire! fire!"
"Now take the wench," said Tristan, still impassive.
The mother gazed at the soldiers in such formidable fashion that they were more inclined to retreat than to advance.
"Come, now," repeated the provost. "Here you, Rennet Cousin!"
No one took a step.
The provost swore,--
"~Tête de Christ~! my men of war! afraid of a woman!"
"Monseigneur," said Rennet, "do you call that a woman?"
"She has the mane of a lion," said another.
"Come!" repeated the provost, "the gap is wide enough. Enter three abreast271, as at the breach of Pontoise. Let us make an end of it, death of Mahom! I will make two pieces of the first man who draws back!"
Placed between the provost and the mother, both threatening, the soldiers hesitated for a moment, then took their resolution, and advanced towards the Rat-Hole.
When the recluse saw this, she rose abruptly272 on her knees, flung aside her hair from her face, then let her thin flayed273 hands fall by her side. Then great tears fell, one by one, from her eyes; they flowed down her cheeks through a furrow62, like a torrent207 through a bed which it has hollowed for itself.
At the same time she began to speak, but in a voice so supplicating274, so gentle, so submissive, so heartrending, that more than one old convict-warder around Tristan who must have devoured human flesh wiped his eyes.
"Messeigneurs! messieurs the sergeants, one word. There is one thing which I must say to you. She is my daughter, do you see? my dear little daughter whom I had lost! Listen. It is quite a history. Consider that I knew the sergeants very well. They were always good to me in the days when the little boys threw stones at me, because I led a life of pleasure. Do you see? You will leave me my child when you know! I was a poor woman of the town. It was the Bohemians who stole her from me. And I kept her shoe for fifteen years. Stay, here it is. That was the kind of foot which she had. At Reims! La Chantefleurie! Rue Folle- Peine! Perchance, you knew about that. It was I. In your youth, then, there was a merry time, when one passed good hours. You will take pity on me, will you not, gentlemen? The gypsies stole her from me; they hid her from me for fifteen years. I thought her dead. Fancy, my good friends, believed her to be dead. I have passed fifteen years here in this cellar, without a fire in winter. It is hard. The poor, dear little shoe! I have cried so much that the good God has heard me. This night he has given my daughter back to me. It is a miracle of the good God. She was not dead. You will not take her from me, I am sure. If it were myself, I would say nothing; but she, a child of sixteen! Leave her time to see the sun! What has she done to you? nothing at all. Nor have I. If you did but know that she is all I have, that I am old, that she is a blessing275 which the Holy Virgin has sent to me! And then, you are all so good! You did not know that she was my daughter; but now you do know it. Oh! I love her! Monsieur, the grand provost. I would prefer a stab in my own vitals to a scratch on her finger! You have the air of such a good lord! What I have told you explains the matter, does it not? Oh! if you have had a mother, monsiegneur! you are the captain, leave me my child! Consider that I pray you on my knees, as one prays to Jesus Christ! I ask nothing of any one; I am from Reims, gentlemen; I own a little field inherited from my uncle, Mahiet Pradon. I am no beggar. I wish nothing, but I do want my child! oh! I want to keep my child! The good God, who is the master, has not given her back to me for nothing! The king! you say the king! It would not cause him much pleasure to have my little daughter killed! And then, the king is good! she is my daughter! she is my own daughter! She belongs not to the king! she is not yours! I want to go away! we want to go away! and when two women pass, one a mother and the other a daughter, one lets them go! Let us pass! we belong in Reims. Oh! you are very good, messieurs the sergeants, I love you all. You will not take my dear little one, it is impossible! It is utterly impossible, is it not? My child, my child!"
We will not try to give an idea of her gestures, her tone, of the tears which she swallowed as she spoke, of the hands which she clasped and then wrung276, of the heart-breaking smiles, of the swimming glances, of the groans277, the sighs, the miserable and affecting cries which she mingled with her disordered, wild, and incoherent words. When she became silent Tristan l'Hermite frowned, but it was to conceal a tear which welled up in his tiger's eye. He conquered this weakness, however, and said in a curt tone,--
"The king wills it."
Then he bent278 down to the ear of Rennet Cousin, and said to him in a very low tone,--
"Make an end of it quickly!" Possibly, the redoubtable279 provost felt his heart also failing him.
The executioner and the sergeants entered the cell. The mother offered no resistance, only she dragged herself towards her daughter and threw herself bodily upon her. The gypsy beheld the soldiers approach. The horror of death reanimated her,--
"Mother!" she shrieked280, in a tone of indescribable distress281, "Mother! they are coming! defend me!"
"Yes, my love, I am defending you!" replied the mother, in a dying voice; and clasping her closely in her arms, she covered her with kisses. The two lying thus on the earth, the mother upon the daughter, presented a spectacle worthy of pity.
Rennet Cousin grasped the young girl by the middle of her body, beneath her beautiful shoulders. When she felt that hand, she cried, "Heuh!" and fainted. The executioner who was shedding large tears upon her, drop by drop, was about to bear her away in his arms. He tried to detach the mother, who had, so to speak, knotted her hands around her daughter's waist; but she clung so strongly to her child, that it was impossible to separate them. Then Rennet Cousin dragged the young girl outside the cell, and the mother after her. The mother's eyes were also closed.
At that moment, the sun rose, and there was already on the Place a fairly numerous assembly of people who looked on from a distance at what was being thus dragged along the pavement to the gibbet. For that was Provost Tristan's way at executions. He had a passion for preventing the approach of the curious.
There was no one at the windows. Only at a distance, at the summit of that one of the towers of Notre-Dame which commands the Grève, two men outlined in black against the light morning sky, and who seemed to be looking on, were visible.
Rennet Cousin paused at the foot of the fatal ladder, with that which he was dragging, and, barely breathing, with so much pity did the thing inspire him, he passed the rope around the lovely neck of the young girl. The unfortunate child felt the horrible touch of the hemp282. She raised her eyelids283, and saw the fleshless arm of the stone gallows extended above her head. Then she shook herself and shrieked in a loud and heartrending voice: "No! no! I will not!" Her mother, whose head was buried and concealed in her daughter's garments, said not a word; only her whole body could be seen to quiver, and she was heard to redouble her kisses on her child. The executioner took advantage of this moment to hastily loose the arms with which she clasped the condemned girl. Either through exhaustion284 or despair, she let him have his way. Then he took the young girl on his shoulder, from which the charming creature hung, gracefully285 bent over his large head. Then he set his foot on the ladder in order to ascend.
At that moment, the mother who was crouching on the pavement, opened her eyes wide. Without uttering a cry, she raised herself erect with a terrible expression; then she flung herself upon the hand of the executioner, like a beast on its prey286, and bit it. It was done like a flash of lightning. The headsman howled with pain. Those near by rushed up. With difficulty they withdrew his bleeding hand from the mother's teeth. She preserved a profound silence. They thrust her back with much brutality287, and noticed that her head fell heavily on the pavement. They raised her, she fell back again. She was dead.
The executioner, who had not loosed his hold on the young girl, began to ascend the ladder once more.
乞丐们攻打教堂的时候,拉·爱斯梅拉达正在熟睡。
不一会,教堂周围不断增长的喧闹声和比她先醒的羊儿的咩咩叫,把她从梦中惊醒了。她坐起来听了听,看了看,被火光和喊声吓住了,便奔到房外去看个究竟。广场上的情景,那骚动的景象,那种夜间袭击时的一片混乱,那象跳来跳去的青蛙似的可怕的人们,黑暗中只能依稀看见。人群的嘶哑的喊声,象在湖面的雾霭中闪现的流星似的红红的火把,整个景象使她仿佛看见安息日会的魔鬼们在同教堂的石雕怪兽交战。因为从小习染了波希米亚部落的迷信,她第一个念头就是以为看到了那些只有夜间才出现的怪物的鬼把戏,她跌跌碰碰地跑回房间去躲起来,希望她那简陋的被褥能给她一个不那么可怕的梦境。
最初一阵恐怖的烟雾逐渐消散了,她听见了不断增多的喧闹声,看见了现实生活里的其他几种标志,她才明白包围她的并不是魔鬼,而是人。于是她的恐惧虽然没有增长,但是变了样。她想到那可能是一次打算把她从圣地拖出去的群众暴动,她将要再一次丢掉生命、希望以及她在将来还可能看见的弗比斯。她的柔弱,她的无处逃避,她的无依无靠,她的孤立无助等等念头又一齐占据了她的心。她跪下来,双手抱着头靠在垫褥上,异常悲痛,浑身哆嗦。她虽然是一个崇拜偶像的埃及姑娘,但现在她还是啼哭着请求好上帝保佑,还是向她的女房东圣母祷告起来。一个什么都不相信的人,到了性命攸关之际,也会相信那最靠近的寺院的宗教呢。
她就这样跪在那里有好一会,实际上发颤的时间比祷告的时间还多。听见群众的喊声迫近了,她愈来愈惊慌得透不过气,她不明白那骚动的性质,不知道那些人在干什么或是想干什么,但是她觉得结局一定是十分可怕。
正当她这样愁苦的时候,听见有人向她走来。她转过身去,有两个人走进了她的小房间,其中的一个提着灯笼。她发出一声微弱的叫喊。
“别害怕,”一个在她听来并不陌生的声音说道,“是我呀。”
“谁呀?你是谁?”她问道。
“比埃尔·甘果瓦。”
这个名字使她放心了。她抬眼一看,的确是那位诗人。但是他身边还有个全身遮得严严的黑衣人,又使她吓得说不出话了。
“啊,”甘果瓦用埋怨的口气说,“加里还比你先认出了我呢。”
那只小山羊的确没等甘果瓦通名就认出了他。诗人刚一进门,山羊就跑到他身边,在他膝头上擦来擦去,擦了他一身的白毛,原来它正在换毛呢。
甘果瓦也不断抚摸它。
“同你一道的是个什么人?”埃及姑娘低声问道。
“放心吧,”甘果瓦回答,“是我的一个朋友。”
于是哲学家把灯笼放在地上,蹲下来把加里抱在怀中,真心实意地说道:“这是一只挺好的动物,不太大,但相当爱干净,而且还很聪明,很机警,象一位语法家一般有学问呢!加里,咱们来瞧瞧你有没有忘掉你的戏法。雅克·沙尔莫吕是什么样儿……? ”
黑衣人不让甘果瓦说完话就走到他跟前,粗暴地碰他的肩膀。甘果瓦站起来了。“真的,”他说,“我忘了我们得赶快呢。可是,老师,这也用不着向人发火哟!我亲爱的漂亮孩子,你的生命在危险中,连加里也一样。我们想把你救出去,我们是你的朋友,我们救你来哪。跟我们走吧。”
“真的吗?”她慌张地喊道。
“真的,真极了。赶快来吧!”
“我很愿意,”她结结巴巴地说道,“可是你的朋友为什么不说话呀?”
“啊,”甘果瓦答道,“因为他的父母都是幻想家,使他天生就不爱说话。”
听到这个解释她只好满意了。甘果瓦拉着她的手,他的同伴拿起灯笼走在前头。恐怖把那位姑娘弄得昏头昏脑,任凭他们带领着她。羊儿蹦蹦跳跳地跟在他们身后,它因为重新看见了甘果瓦,就高兴得老是在他腿边擦来擦去,弄得他跌跌绊绊的。“这就是生活呀,”那位哲学家每当差点儿跌倒时就这样说道,“使我们摔交的往往是我们的朋友!”
他们急忙走下了钟塔的楼梯,穿过黑暗荒凉的教堂,这座教堂被广场上的喧闹声震动着,正好形成可怕的对照。出了红门,他们来到修道院的庭院里,修道院里一个人也没有,神甫们都躲到主教府邸一块儿祷告去了,只有几个惊慌的仆役蹲在庭院角落里。他们朝庭院里那扇通向德罕荒地的门走去,黑衣人用自己身边的钥匙把门打开。读者知道德罕是被旧城区旁边的城墙围着的狭长地带,属于圣母院神甫公会,位于教堂背后,正当小岛的东头。
他们发现那里空无一人,也没有那么多嘈杂声,进攻的乞丐们的各种喊叫,只不过隐约传到他们那里,他们只听见水上的风把德罕岸头那棵枯树的叶子吹得飒飒作响。这时他们还没有脱离险境,离他们最近的建筑物就是主教府邸同教堂了。主教府邸中显然有着很大的骚动,它阴暗的前墙上不断透出光亮,从一个窗口亮到另一个窗口,就象在刚烧掉的纸张的灰烬上嬉戏着的千万个火星一样。再过去是圣母院那两座巨大的钟塔,同支撑它们的本堂一道呈现在遍布巴尔维广场的红红的火光里,好象是独眼巨人的大火炉里的两副大柴架。
巴黎的大部分看起来就象个黑影,有些光亮在其中闪动,我们在伦勃朗的画面上往往可以找到这种背景。
那提灯笼的人径直向德罕尽头走去,那儿临水的地方有一排倒坍的篱笆,上面盖着些木条,一棵矮树把它那些象张开的手指一般的枝枒伸展在那儿。在后面,在篱笆的阴影里,藏着一只小船。那人招手叫甘果瓦同他的女伴上船去,山羊也跟着上了船,那个人是最后一个上船的。随后他解了缆,用一根长长的篙把船撑离岸边,接着他拿起两支桨坐在船头上,用力向河心划去。塞纳河这一段的水流很急,他很不容易划离岛尖。
甘果瓦上船后第一件事就是把山羊抱在膝头上,坐在船尾。那姑娘因为陌生人使她很不安,便走来坐在诗人身边,紧紧靠着他。
我们的哲学家感到小船已经在动了,他便拍起手来,并且吻着山羊两只犄角当中的地方。“啊,”他说道,“现在我们四个都得救哪!”接着又深思地添上一句,“要实现伟大的计划,有时要碰运气,有时要用计策。”
小船慢慢靠近了右岸,那姑娘感到一种隐约的恐怖,她望着陌生人。他小心地把暗淡的灯光遮住,只能模糊看到他象个幽灵似的坐在船头上。他的头巾依旧披垂着,成了他的面幕,他张开宽大的衣袖伸出手臂摇桨时,就象蝙蝠的两只翅膀。何况他没说一句话,没透一口气,他在船上没有一点声息,只听见一推一带的摇桨声和水波冲击船舷的声音。
“用我的灵魂担保!”甘果瓦忽然喊道,“我们本来应该象夜猫子一般轻松愉快的,现在怎么象毕达哥拉斯派的哲学家那样,或者象鱼儿那样一声不响呀?天知道!我的朋友们,我希望有人同我讲讲话呀!人类的声音在人类的耳朵听来就是音乐,这话可不是我说的,是亚历山大的狄丁说的,真是金玉良言呢。真的,亚历山大的狄丁可不是一个平平常常的哲学家。说一句话吧,我漂亮的孩子,我求你同我讲句话吧。对了,你不是喜欢把嘴稍稍扁一下吗?你还常常做么?哎,我亲爱的朋友,你知道大理院有权管理一切避难所吗?你知道你在圣母院那间小屋里多么危险吗?啊呀,那就象小蜂鸟在鳄鱼的牙床上筑窠一样!老师,现在月亮上来了,别让人看见我们才好,我们为了救这位小姐可冒着危险呢。假若他们把我们抓去,仍然会用国王的名义把我们绞死的。哎,人类的行动都是从两个起点开始,在一个人那里受到尊敬,在另一个人那里却被咒骂。崇拜凯撒的人却责怪加梯里纳。不是吗,老师?你认为这种哲学怎么样?我呢,我懂得本能的哲学,自然的哲学,就象蜜蜂和几何学一样。咳,谁也不答理我,你们两人的脾气真叫人恼火!我只好自说自道,这在我们的悲剧里就叫做独白。天晓得!我告诉你们,我刚才见过路易十一,这句粗话就是从他那里学来的。天晓得!旧城区里怎么还有这么大的呐喊声!那个路易十一是个可恶的老国王,他全身裹着黑毛皮,他还欠着我那贺婚诗的稿费呢,因此他今天晚上才没有下令把我绞死,我是特别怕给绞死的。他对人可不愿意发慈悲,他很应该读一读沙尔万·德·科洛涅的《反对吝啬》那四本书。真的!这个国王对待文人非常刻薄,他很野蛮,很残酷,他是一块从人民身上吸取钱财的海绵,他的积蓄是搜刮别人而来的。因此,人民时时发出的痛苦呻吟在这位国王听来却好象喃喃低语。在这位虔诚的王上的统治下,绞刑架经常轧轧地绞死人,断头台上流满鲜血,监狱就象吃得太饱的肚皮一样装满了囚犯。国王一手搜刮,一手杀人。他是刑台先生和税务太太的保护人。大人物被免职,被剥夺爵位,小人物又不断承受新的剥削。这位国王太过分了,我可不喜欢他。你呢,我的老师?”
黑衣人任凭诗人滔滔不绝地说去,他自己继续同激流搏斗着,这道激流把城岛的顶端和圣母岛(如今叫做圣路易岛)的末端分割开。
“啊,老师,”甘果瓦突然说,“我们通过那密集的乞丐群到达巴尔维广场的时候,你看见你那个聋子正把那可怜的小鬼的脑袋往那有国王雕像的楼廊的栏杆上磕破吗?我从下面望见了,但是认不清是什么人。你可知道那是谁吗?”
陌生人一句话也不回答。但他忽然不划桨了,两只胳膊象折断了似的耷拉下来,脑袋低垂到胸前。拉·爱斯梅拉达听见他痉挛地叹息,她惊慌得战栗起来,这种叹息她是听到过的呀。
那只小船因为没有人划,就顺水漂了一会。那黑衣人终于重新打起精神,抓起两支桨继续向上游划去。转过了圣母岛的尖端,他就朝着干草港那边划。
“啊,”甘果瓦说,“就快到达巴尔波府邸了。看呀,老师,看那一堆黑屋顶的犄角多么奇怪,那边,在那堆又低又乱又脏的云彩下,残缺的月亮象破了壳的蛋黄一般挂在那里。那是一座挺好的府邸呢。那里有一座小礼拜堂,拱顶上到处都是雕刻,你可以看到在那顶上高耸着一座很精致的钟楼。
府邸里还有一个清爽的花园,里面有一个鱼池,一个鸟棚,一块岩石,那是山林女神的化身,一条林荫路,一条曲径,一间饲养野兽的屋子和几条绿荫掩映的对维纳斯非常适合的小路。那里还有一棵名叫‘浪子’的难看的大树,因为它曾经是一位著名的公主同一个快乐聪明的法兰西元帅约会的地点。
哎,我们这些可怜的哲学家,他们同一个元帅相比,就象一畦白菜或小萝卜同卢浮宫的一座花园相比一样。可是这又有什么关系呢?那些大人物的生活还不是同我们一样,有时好有时坏,痛苦总是守在欢乐旁边,就象扬抑抑格紧靠着抑扬扬格一般。我的老师,我必须把那巴尔波府邸的故事讲给你听。
它的结局是很悲惨的。那是在一三一九年菲立浦五世统治的时期,他是法兰西国王当中在位最久的一位。这个故事说明肉体的诱惑是有害的和有毒的,我们可不要常把眼睛盯在邻人的妻子身上,哪怕我们被她的美貌迷住了。通好是很放肆的念头,私通是出于对别人的肉欲的好奇……咳,那边的喊声愈来愈大哪!”
圣母院周围的人群的确又增多了,他们留心倾听,胜利的呼声听得十分清楚,照得人们身边的兵器亮闪闪的几百个火把忽然在高高的教堂顶上、在钟塔上、楼廊上和飞檐下面出现,拿火把的人好象在寻找什么。一会儿,远远的喊声清楚地传到了那三个出走的人的耳朵里:“那个埃及姑娘!那个女巫!把那埃及姑娘处死!”
不幸的姑娘把脑袋埋在手里,陌生人就使劲向岸边划去。这时我们的哲学家沉思起来,他把小山羊紧紧抱在怀里,轻轻地离开了埃及姑娘,她本来是越来越紧地靠在甘果瓦身边的,好象那里就是她的避难所一样。
甘果瓦真有点左右为难了,他想,依照现行法律,小山羊假若被抓住了,也会处绞刑呢,那太可惜哪,可怜的加里!他担负不了照管两个囚犯的重任,何况他的同伴正是十分愿意照顾那埃及姑娘的。他象《伊利亚特》里面的朱比特一般,心头剧烈斗争了一会,看看小羊又看看埃及姑娘,眼睛里含着泪水,咬着牙说道:“可没办法同时救你们两个呀!”
一阵摇晃使他们知道船已经靠岸了,旧城区里还是一片喊声,陌生人站起来走到埃及姑娘跟前,想搀着她的胳膊帮助她下船。姑娘把他一推,去抓住甘果瓦的衣袖,正在她身边忙着照顾山羊的甘果瓦竟把她摔开了,于是她自个儿从船里跳上岸去。可是她不知该怎么办,该往哪里走,所以十分烦恼,站在那里望着河水出神。她稍稍清醒后,发觉自己是同那个陌生人站在岸边,甘果瓦好象一上岸就带着山羊悄悄钻进临河的水上楼街上一堆房舍里去了。
那可怜的姑娘发觉自己单独同那个陌生人在一道,就止不住战栗起来,她想说话,想叫喊,想呼唤甘果瓦,可是她的舌头仿佛钉牢在嘴里了,一声也喊不出来。忽然她感到陌生人抓住了她的手,陌生人的手是冰冷的,但非常有力。她牙齿打战,脸色变得同照着她的月光一般惨白。那个人没有说一句话,他抓住她的手大步向格雷沃广场走去,在那当儿,她模糊地意识到命运真是一股无法抗拒的力量。她一点力气也没有了,听凭人家拖着拽着,他向前走,她却被拖着跑步,码头的那一段本来是上坡路,她却觉得好象是在下坡。
她向四面看看,一个行人也没有,码头上十分荒凉,她听不见一点声音,除了火光通红的骚乱的旧城区之外,再也听不见人的声音了。她和旧城区仅隔一条塞纳河,从那边传来了喊声,叫着她的名字,嚷着要把她处死。巴黎其他地区就象大片阴影铺展在她的四周。
这时陌生人还是那样不出一声,还是那样快地拖着她走。她记不得走过了什么地方,在经过一家有灯光的窗前时,她使劲想要挣脱而且还突然喊道:“救命呀!”
那窗户里的居民把窗子打开了,穿着衬衫就把灯举在窗口,迟疑地向码头上望了一眼,还讲了几句她没听清的话,接着又把百叶窗关上。最后的一线希望也熄灭了。
黑衣人还是一言不发,却把她抓得更紧,走得更快了,她无法抗拒,只好有气无力地跟着走。
她偶尔鼓起一点儿力气,用她那因为喘息和道路不平弄得上气不接下气的声音问道:“你是谁?你是谁呀?”他一句也不回答。
他们就这样沿着码头走到了一个相当大的广场。有一点月光,原来这就是格雷沃广场,看得见广场中央竖着一个黑黑的象十字架一般的东西,那就是绞刑架。这些她都认得,她明白自己在什么地方了。
那个人停下脚步转身向着她,并且把头巾揭开了。“啊,”惊呆了的她结结巴巴地说道,“我就知道还是他呀!”
他就是那个神甫,样子倒象是他自己的鬼魂,那是由于月光的原故。在那种月光下,一切事物看起来都象幽灵似的。“听着,”他向她说。一听见这种久已没听到的阴惨的声调,她就战栗起来。那个人接着说下去,由于内心激动,他用很短的句子喘息着一句一顿地说:“听着,我们到了这里。我要同你讲,这里是格雷沃,这就到了尽头哪。命运把你我放在一起,我要主宰你的生死,你呢,你要主宰我的灵魂。这儿除了广场和黑夜之外什么也看不见。听我说吧,我要告诉你……首先不要向我提起你的弗比斯(说到这里,他就象无法停住的人那样,拖着她走来走去)。不要提起他,明白吗?假若你提起那个名字,我不知道我会干出什么事来,一定是十分可怕的事。”
讲完了这些话他仿佛又找到了重心,他重新站着不动,但是他那些话并没有使他的激动平息下来,他的声音愈来愈低了。
“不要这样转过头去,听我说,这是一桩严肃的事情。首先要告诉你发生过什么事,这些都没有什么可笑的,我向你保证。我在讲什么呀!让我想想!啊!大理院下了一道命令要把你送上绞刑架,我刚才救你逃脱了他们,可是他们还在那里追捕你呢,看吧!”
他抬手指着旧城区,那里的确还在继续搜寻,喊声更迫近了。在格雷沃广场的正对面,那座陆军中尉的房子的塔楼上是一片喧闹声和火光,看得见对岸有许多兵丁手里拿着火把,在那里奔跑,一面喊着:“那个埃及姑娘!
那个埃及姑娘在哪里?处死她!处死她!”
“你看得很清楚他们是在追捕你呢,我并没有说谎。我呢,我爱你。别张嘴,要是你打算说你恨我,还是别说为妙,我已经下决心不再听这种话了。
我刚才救了你,先让我把话讲完,我完全可以再救你,我一切都准备好了,就看你愿意不愿意哪。只要你愿意,我就能够再救你。”
他猛然停了下来:“不,不应该这样说。”
于是他开步跑,让她也跟着跑,因为他一直抓住她没有放开。他径直跑到绞刑架下,用手指着绞刑架叫她看,“在它和我当中你可以选择一个,”
他冷酷地说道。
她从他手中挣开,跪倒在绞刑架下,抱着那阴惨的柱脚,接着她把美丽的脑袋回过一半,从肩头上望着那个神甫,好象是一个跪在十字架下面的圣处女。神甫依旧站着不动,一手指着绞刑架,如同一座塑像。
姑娘终于向他说道:“它还没有你那样使我害怕。”
于是他慢慢垂下手臂,极端丧气地望着石板地。“要是这些石头能够讲话,”他轻轻嘀咕道,“是呀,它们就会说这里有个多么不幸的男子啊。”
他又讲起话来。那姑娘跪在绞刑架前,把脸孔埋在长长的头发里,任凭他说去。此刻他的声音又悲苦又温柔,同他那傲慢的面孔成了辛酸的对照。
“我呢,我爱你,啊,这是千真万确的。我内心如同烈火焚烧,但外表上什么也看不出。啊,姑娘,无论黑夜白天,无论黑夜白天都是如此,这难道不值得一点怜悯吗?这是一种无论黑夜白天都占据我心头的爱情,我告诉你,这是一种苦刑啊。啊,我太受罪了,我可怜的孩子!这是值得同情的事啊,我担保。你看我在温柔地向你说话呢,我很希望你不再那样害怕我。总而言之,一个男子爱上一个女人并不是他的过错。啊,我的上帝!怎么,你就永远不能原谅我吗?你还在恨我!那么,完结哪!就是这个使我变得凶狠,你看,就是这个使我变得可怕的!你看都不看我一眼!当我站在这里向你说话,并且在我俩走向永恒的边界旁战栗的时候,你或许正在想别的事,不过千万别对我提起那个军官。唉!我要向你下跪了,啊呀,我要吻你脚下的泥土了,不是吻你的脚,那样你是不愿意的。我要哭得象个小孩子,我要从胸中掏出,不是我的话,而是掏出我的肺腑,为了告诉你我爱你。一切全都没用,都没用!可是在你的心里你有的只是慈悲和柔情,你全身发出最美丽最温柔的光芒,你是多么崇高、善良、慈悲、可爱。哎,你单单对我一个人这样冷漠无情。啊,怎样的命运呀!”
他把脸埋在手里,那姑娘听见他在哭泣,这是他生平第一次哭泣。他站在那里哭得浑身哆嗦,比跪着恳求更加凄楚,他就这样哭了好一会。
“啊呀!”哭了一阵之后他接着说道,“我找不出话说了,我对你讲的话都是好好考虑过的。这会儿我又颤又抖,我在决定性的关头倒糊涂起来,我觉得有一种至高无上的力量统治着我们,使我说不明白。啊,要是你不怜惜我也不怜惜你自己,我就要倒在地上了。不要使我俩都受到惩罚吧,要是你知道我多么爱你!我的心是怎样一颗心呀!我是怎样逃避真理,怎样使自己感到绝望!我是个学者,却辱没了科学;我是个绅士,却败坏了自己的名声;我是个神甫,却把弥撒书当做淫欲的枕头,向上帝的脸上吐唾沫!这一切都是为了你呀,狐狸精!为了能更快地在你的地狱里沉沦!可是你倒不愿意要我这个罪人哪!啊,让我全部告诉你,还有呢,还有一件更可怕的事情呢,啊,更可怕的呀!……”
讲到最后几句的时候,他完全是一副神经错乱的样子,他有一会没出声,随后又象自言自语一般厉声说道:“该隐啊,你是怎样对待你的弟弟的呀?”
沉默了一会,他接着说道:“我是怎样对待他的呀,主啊?我曾经教育他,抚养他,我曾经教他成人。我曾经崇拜他,我曾经宠爱他,但是我把他杀死了!是呀,主啊,人家刚才在我面前把他的脑袋在你教堂的石头上摔开了花,这都是因为我,因为这个女人,因为她……”
他的眼光变得凶暴起来,声音渐渐低下去了,象一口钟在发出最后的震颤,他隔一会就重复一遍:“是因为她……是因为她……”后来他的舌头再也发不出什么声音了,嘴唇却依然在动,突然他象什么东西坍塌似的跪倒在地上不动了,脑袋埋在两腿中间。
姑娘轻轻地把压在神甫身子底下的脚抽回去的动作使他清醒过来,呆呆地望着自己湿漉漉的手指。“啊!”他低声说道,“我哭了呀!”
他猛地转身对着埃及姑娘,难过得不知道该怎么说才好。
“哎,你看着我哭居然一点也不动心呢!孩子,你知道这些眼泪都是火山的熔液么?那么,人们对自己憎恨的人毫不动心竟是真的了,你看见我死去倒会发笑呢。啊!我却不愿意看见你死去!说一声,只要说一声你宽恕我就行了,不必说你爱我!只要说你愿意就行了,我就可以救你。要不然……
啊,时间来不及哪,我凭一切神圣事物的名义这样求你,不要等到我又变得象那要你性命的绞刑架一般冷酷无情吧!想想我俩的命运都掌握在我的手中,想想我已经丧失理智了,这是可怕的,想想我是能够摧毁一切的吧,想想我们下面有一个无底的深渊吧,不幸的人啊,我会跟着你一起堕落下去永劫不返呢。好心地说一声吧,只要说一声!”
她张开嘴打算回答他,他爬到她跟前去以便虔诚地听她嘴里讲出的话,他猜想多半是动人的话。但是她说道:“你是个凶手!”
神甫疯狂地把她拽过来抱在怀里,恶狠狠地大笑起来。“咳,对了,我是凶手!”他说,“我一定要把你弄到手。你不愿要我当你的奴隶,你就得让我当你的主人,我一定要占有你。我有一个窝,我一定要把你拽进去,你得跟着我,你一定得跟着我,否则我就会把你交出去!漂亮的孩子,你必须死掉或者属于我,属于一个神甫,一个叛教的人,一个凶手!就从今天晚上开始,你听见了吗?咱们走吧!快活去吧!咱们走!亲我呀,笨蛋!你得选择坟墓或是我的床褥!”
他的眼睛里闪出淫荡粗暴的光,他的色情的嘴唇火热地碰着姑娘的脖子,她在他的怀抱中挣扎,他拿湿漉漉的亲吻盖满了她一脸。
“别咬我,怪物!”她喊道,“啊,讨厌的肮脏的妖僧!放开我!我要扯下你那可恶的白头发,一把一把往你脸上扔去!”
他的脸红一阵,白一阵,随后把她放开了,神色阴郁地望着她。她以为自己是个胜利者了,便接着说道:“我告诉你我是属于我的弗比斯的,我爱的是弗比斯,漂亮的是弗比斯!你这个神甫,你多老!你多丑!滚你的吧!”
他好象受着炮烙之刑的罪人一样,发出一声猛烈的叫喊。“那么死吧!”
他咬牙切齿地说。看见了他那凶狠的眼光,她打算逃开去,他又抓住她,摇晃她,把她推倒在地上,然后拽着她漂亮的胳膊,拖着她迈开大步向罗兰塔拐角上走去。
到了这里,他转身问她道:“最后一次回答我:你愿不愿意属于我?”
她使劲回答说:“不!”
于是他高声喊道:“居第尔!居第尔!那个埃及姑娘在这里!快报仇吧!”
姑娘觉得自己的手肘突然被人抓住了。她仔细看看,原来是一只瘦骨嶙嶙的胳膊从墙上的窗口伸了出来,象铁腕似的抓牢了她。
“抓紧她!”神甫道,“这是那个逃跑的埃及女人。别放松她,我去把军警找来,你会看见她给绞死的。”
一种从喉咙里发出的笑声从墙里回答这句血淋淋的话:“哈!哈!哈!”
埃及姑娘看见神甫向圣母桥那边跑去了,一阵马队的声音从那边传了过来。
姑娘认出了那个可恶的隐修女,她害怕得透不过气来,她想挣脱开。她弯着身子,又痛苦又失望地挣扎了一会,但是那一个却用异乎寻常的力气牢牢抓住她,那瘦骨嶙嶙的手指拳曲着紧紧箍在她的皮肉上,可以说是那只手钉牢在她的胳膊上了,简直比链条和铁箍还紧,好象从墙里伸出的是一把有生命有知觉的钳子。
她筋疲力竭地倒在墙脚下,起了怕死的念头,她想到生命的美好,想到青春,想到蓝天,想到大自然的种种景色,想到爱情,想到弗比斯,想到正在消失和快要临近的一切,想到那个出卖她的神甫,那就要到来的刽子手,还有那一座早已立在那边的绞刑架,于是她觉得恐怖一直升到了她的头发根,她听见那隐修女凄厉地笑着低声对她说道:“哈!哈!你快要给绞死哪!”
她气息奄奄地回头朝窗口看,从铁栅空隙里望见小麻袋那副恶狠狠的样子。“我对你做过什么不好的事呀?”她有气没力地问道。
隐修女不回答她,却用激动的嘲笑的唱歌一般的声调嘟嘟囔囔地说:“埃及女人!埃及女人!埃及女人!”
不幸的爱斯梅拉达明白了自己并不是在同一个人打交道,只好垂下蓬头散发的脑袋。
那隐修女好象过了好一会才想起了埃及姑娘的问话,忽然叫嚷起来:“你问我你对我做过什么不好的事吗?你的确对我做过。埃及女人,你听着:我也有一个孩子,你知道吗?我有一个孩子,一个孩子呀,我告诉你!一个漂亮的小女儿!我的阿涅丝呀,”她在黑暗里吻着一件什么东西,接着又恶狠狠说道,“咳,你知道吗,埃及女人?有人把我的孩子夺去了,把我的孩子偷去了,把我的孩子吃掉了。这就是你对我做过的事!”
那姑娘象只可怜的羔羊一般回答道:“那时候我也许还没有出生呢!”
“啊,出生了!”隐修女说,”那时候你一定出生了,你就是那些人当中的一个。她的年龄跟你差不多!我在这里十五年了,我痛苦了十五年,祷告了十五年,把头在墙上撞了十五年。我告诉你,是几个埃及女人把她偷去的!你听见吗?她们把她吃掉了。你有心肝吗?你想想,一个嬉戏的孩子,一个吃奶的娃娃,一个睡着了的小宝贝,多么天真呀!咳,就是这样一个小孩,她们把她偷去了,她们把她杀死了!善良的上帝是知道这件事的!啊,今天可该我来吃埃及女人了,要不是这些铁格子挡住我,我得咬死你。我头都气胀了,可怜的小女儿,就在她睡着的时候呀!要是她们去偷她的时候把她吵醒了,她一定会大哭起来的,因为我不在她身边啊!啊,埃及女人的母亲呀,你们把我的孩子吃掉了!现在来看我吃你们的孩子吧!”
于是她大笑起来,或者是在咬牙切齿吧,因为在那愤怒的脸上简直分不清到底是在笑还是在咬牙。天色开始破晓了,一抹灰白的微光照在那个地方,广场上的绞刑架也看得更加清楚了。可怜的犯人隐约听到马队的声音从圣母桥那边迫近了。
“夫人!”她双手合十,双膝跪地,披散着头发,惊惶失措地说道,“夫人,怜悯我吧,他们来哪。我没有对您做过什么不好的事,您愿意看着我那样可怕地死在您的眼前吗?我敢保证您是有怜悯心的。太可怕啦,让我逃命去吧。放开我!开恩吧!我可不愿意那样死去呀!”
“还我的孩子来!”
“开恩吧!开恩吧!”
“还我的孩子来!”
“放开我吧,看在上帝份上!”
“还我的孩子来!”
那姑娘又一次筋疲力尽地跌倒在地,眼睛象坟墓里的人一般呆钝。“哎,”
她结结巴巴地说道,“你在找你的孩子,我却在找我的父母。”
“还我的小阿涅丝来!”居第尔说,“你不知道她在什么地方吗?那你就死你的吧!我要告诉你,我从前是个娼妓,我有过一个孩子,给人偷去了,那是埃及女人干的。要是你的母亲跑来问你在哪儿,我就要告诉她:‘做母亲的,看看那绞刑架吧!’要不然就还我的孩子来!你知道我的小女儿在哪里吗?等着,我给你瞧瞧,这儿有她的一只小鞋,这是她留给我的唯一的东西了。你知道同这只鞋一样的那另一只鞋在哪里吗?要是你知道它在哪儿,就告诉我吧,哪怕是在地球的那一边,我也要爬着去找。”
她一面说,一面把另一只胳膊伸出铁格子,拿出一只绣花小鞋给那埃及姑娘看。那时天已大亮,看得清那鞋儿的式样和颜色了。
“把这只小鞋给我,”埃及姑娘哆嗦着说道,“上帝!上帝!”同时她就用另一只没有被抓住的手迅速打开她脖子上挂着的装绿玻璃片的小荷包。
“呀,呀!”居第尔吼道,“把你那鬼符拿出来吧!”突然她住口了,浑身颤抖着,用发自肺腑的声音喊道:“我的女儿!”
那埃及姑娘刚刚从她的荷包里拽出了一只小鞋,同那一只一模一样。小鞋上贴着一张羊皮纸,上面还有这样的题词:此鞋若成对,母女重相会。
一闪电的工夫,那隐修女已经把两只鞋比较了一番,读过了羊皮纸上的字句,把布满天堂的欢乐的脸孔凑到窗栏上喊道:“我的女儿,我的女儿!”
“我的母亲!”埃及姑娘回答道。
这个情景我们无力描绘了。
墙和铁栅隔在她们中间。“啊,墙呀!”隐修女喊道,“啊,看见她却不能拥抱她!伸过你的手来!伸过你的手来!”
姑娘把胳膊伸进窗口,隐修女就扑到那只手上,把嘴唇久久地贴着,全神贯注地吻着,要不是她胸口一起一伏地在那儿哭泣,她简直好象已经死去。
她在暗处悄悄地哭,眼泪象泉水,象夜雨似的不断地流淌。这位可怜的母亲把十五年来一滴一滴地注满她心头的又黑又深的泪井里所有的眼泪,一股脑儿全倾注在她崇拜的这只手上。
她忽然又抬起头来,把额前的白发掠开,一言不发地象只凶猛的狮子一般用双手去摇小屋的铁栅。铁栅纹丝不动。她便到屋角里拿来了一块当枕头用的石板,使劲向铁栅扔去,一根铁条冒出火花弯起来,她又捶了一下,就把窗口那老朽的铁格子完全捶断了,于是她双手把那些生锈的铁条拆掉。女人的手有时也有超人的力气呢。
不到一分钟就把通路扫清了,她拦腰抱住她的女儿,把她拖进了小屋。
“来,我要把你救出火坑!”她轻声地说道。
把她的女儿抱进了屋,她就轻轻把她放在地上,随后又抱在怀中,仿佛她依旧是幼小的阿涅丝似的。她抱着女儿在狭小的屋子里走来走去,如痴如醉,快乐到了极点,走着唱着吻着女儿,对她讲话,放声大笑之后又放声大哭,这一切都一下子突然发作起来。
“我的女儿!我的女儿!”她说道,“我爱我的女儿啊!她回到我身边哪!善良的上帝把她还给我哪!你们,你们都来吧!有人想看看我又找到了我的女儿吗?我主耶稣!她多么漂亮!你让我等她等了十五年哪,好心的上帝,但那不过是为了使她长成个美人儿再还给我。这么说来,埃及女人们并没有吃掉她呀?那是谁告诉我的呢?我的小女儿,我的小女儿,亲我吧。那些埃及女人真好!我喜欢埃及女人了。真的是你呀,怪不得你每次打这里经过都使我的心跳起来,我还以为那是由于仇恨呢。原谅我吧,我的阿涅丝,原谅我吧!你觉得我挺凶的,是吧?我爱你呀。你脖子上的小痣还在吗?让我看看。它还在你脖子上呢。啊,你多么漂亮!是我把你生成这么大的眼睛呢,小姐,亲亲我。我爱你呀。别的母亲们有她们的孩子,这对我有什么关系呢?现在我也可以嘲笑她们了。她们只管来好哪,这就是我的孩子,这就是她的脖子,她的眼睛,她的头发,她的手。你们倒试试找出象这么好看的来呀!啊,她呀,我敢保证一定会有很多人爱她呢。我哭了十五年,我的美貌都到她身上来哪。亲吻我吧。”
她还向女儿说了一大堆话,声音动人极了,她解开了可怜的女儿的衣服,使她羞得脸孔通红,她用手梳理她那丝一般光滑的头发,她吻她的脚、膝盖、额头和眼睛,她的一切都令她沉醉。姑娘任凭她怎样,只是用极低的无限温柔的声音唤着:“我的母亲!”
“你看,我的小女儿,”隐修女说道,她的亲吻使她的话老是中断,“你看我多么爱你,我们要离开这个地方,我们会十分幸福的。我在兰斯继承了一点遗产,在我们本乡。你知道兰斯吗?啊,你不知道,那时你还太小呢。
要是你知道你才四个月的时候是多么漂亮!人们从七里以外的埃帕尔奈来看你的小脚呢!我们会得到一块田地,一所房子,我要让你睡在我的床上。我的上帝!我的上帝!谁会相信这件事呢?我找到我的孩子哪!”
“啊,我的母亲,”那个姑娘在情绪激动下好容易有了说话的力气,“有一个埃及女人曾经清楚地告诉过我,我们那群人中间有一位好心的埃及女人,她去年死哪,她待我象奶娘似的,把荷包挂在我的脖子上的就是她。她常常对我说:‘小乖乖,好好留着这件装饰品,这是一个宝贝,它会帮助你找到你的母亲的。你把你的母亲戴在脖子上哪。’她早就预言过呢,那个埃及女人!”
隐修女重新把她的女儿抱在怀里。“来,让我亲你!你说得多好。我们回到了故乡,就把这双鞋送到教堂去给圣婴耶稣穿上。我们的确欠着善良的圣母的情分呢。你的声音多好听呀!你同我讲起话来,就象在奏乐一样!啊,上帝我主,我可找到我的孩子哪!但过去的事能令人相信吗?人是怎样也不会死的,连我都没有高兴得死掉呀!”
随后她就拍起手来,笑着嚷道:“我们会幸福的!”
这时一片兵器碰撞声和马蹄声传进了小屋,好象正在从圣母桥那边过来而且离码头越来越近了。埃及姑娘痛苦地倒在隐修女的怀里。
“救救我!救救我!我的母亲呀!他们来哪!”
隐修女一下子变得面色惨白。
“啊,老天!你说什么?我忘记哪!有人在追捕你!难道你干了什么吗?”
“我不知道,”那不幸的孩子回答,“可是我被判了死刑。”
“死刑!”隐修女象受了雷击一般摇晃起来,“死刑!”她慢吞吞地一面说一面牢牢盯住女儿。
“是呀,我的母亲,”惊慌的女儿说道,“他们要杀死我,他们抓我来了,那个绞刑架就是用来绞死我的。救救我,救救我!他们来哪!救救我!”
隐修女象尊石像一般好一会动弹不得,随后疑惑地摇摇头大笑起来,又恢复了她先前那种可怕的笑声:“嗬,嗬,不会的!你是在做梦。啊,是呀!
我把她丢失了,过了十五年哪,我重新找到她才不过一分钟呀!居然有人又想把她夺去!她现在多么漂亮呀,她长大了,她同我谈话,她爱我,现在他们又要来吃她了,就在我这当母亲的人的面前!啊,不行!这种事情是不可能的。好心的上帝不会答应这种事的呀。”
这时马队好象停下来了,听得见远远地有个声音在说:“从这边走,特里斯丹大人!那个神甫说我们会在老鼠洞那儿找到她。”马蹄声又响起来了。
隐修女绝望地叫喊着直直地站起身来。“逃命吧,逃命吧,我的孩子!
我全都想起来了,你说得对,是来弄死你的。可怕呀!诅咒他们!逃命吧!”
她把脑袋伸出窗口,马上又缩回来。
“待着吧,”她用短促凄楚的声音悄悄说道,一面紧握住埃及姑娘的死人般冰冷的手,“待着吧,屏住气!到处都有兵。你不能出去了。天已经大亮哪!”
她的眼睛干燥如焚,她好一会不言语,只是在小屋里大步走着,有时停步扯下一把白头发,又用牙齿咬断。
突然她说道:“他们迫近了,我去同他们讲讲,你躲到角落里去,他们看不见你的。我要告诉他们说你逃跑了。说我把你放走了,一定!”
她把她一直抱在怀中的女儿安置在一个从外边看不见的角落里,又叫她蹲下,让她躲藏好,很细心地不让她的手脚露出在阴影外面。她把她的乌黑的头发散开,让它们披在她的白衣服上作为掩护,又把她仅有的用具水壶和石块堆在她跟前,希望水壶和石块能把她遮住。安排完了,她就跪下来祷告,那时天刚亮不久,老鼠洞里还相当暗。
正在这当儿,那个神甫的阴惨惨的声音在离小屋不远处喊道:“从这边走,弗比斯·德·沙多倍尔队长!”
听到这个名字,这种声音,躲在角落里的拉·爱斯梅拉达便轻轻动了一下。“别动!”居第尔说。
她这句话刚一出口,大队人马就来到了小屋跟前,那个母亲赶快站起来,到窗口那儿挺身堵住。她看见一大群武装的士兵,有的骑马有的步行,在格雷沃广场上排列开。那领头的人向她走来。“老太婆,”那面目凶暴的人说道,“我们要把一个女巫找出来绞死。有人告诉我们说她在你这里。”
那可怜的母亲尽力装出不在乎的神情回答道:“我不大明白您的话是什么意思。”
那人说:“上帝的脑袋呀!那么那可恶的副主教瞎扯些什么?他哪儿去哪?”
“大人,”一个兵士说,“他不见了。”
“原来如此!疯老太婆,”领头的人说道,“别撒谎了,人家交了一个女巫给你看管,你把她怎样了?”
为了怕引起疑心,隐修女便不打算全部否认,她用又诚恳又气愤的口气说:“假若你们说的是人家交给我看管的那个大姑娘,我告诉你吧,她把我咬了一口,我只好放开她,就是这么回事。让我休息吧。”
那领队的人做了个失望的鬼脸。
“别想对我撒谎了,老妖怪,”他说,“我名叫特里斯丹·莱尔米特,我是国王的老朋友。特里斯丹·莱尔米特,你可听见了?”他朝格雷沃广场望望,又说道:“这个名字在这一带是很响亮的呢。”
“哪怕你的名字叫做撒旦·莱尔米特,”重新有了一线希望的居第尔说,“我也没有别的话对你讲了,我并不怕你。”
“上帝的脑袋呀!”特里斯丹说,“这倒是个能说会道的家伙!那么女巫是逃走了,她往哪边走的?”
居第尔用不在乎的语气回答道:“我想是从绵羊街走的。”
特里斯丹回过头去,做了个手势叫队伍开步走,隐修女叹了一口气。
“大人,”一个弓箭手忽然说,“问问那个老仙女,她窗口上的铁栅为什么那样破。”
这个问题又使那母亲的心焦急起来,但她还没有到完全神志不清的地步。“它本来就是这样的呀,”她结结巴巴地说道。
“不对,”那个弓箭手说,“昨天它还是叫人起敬的漂亮的黑十字形呢。”
特里斯丹斜着眼睛看了隐修女一眼。
“我相信你这能说会道的家伙也说不清了。”
可怜的女人觉得一切全得靠她能够故作镇静,她虽然心里万分痛苦,但依然冷笑起来。当母亲的往往有这种本领。“呸!这个人喝醉了吧!一年以前,一辆装满石块的大车撞在我的窗上,把铁栅撞坏了。我还把赶车人骂了一顿呢!”
“真的,”另一个弓箭手说,“那时我正好在场。”
这种什么事都仿佛亲眼看见过的人是到处都找得到的,那个弓箭手的意想不到的见证,使隐修女又有了一线希望。那种盘问就好象叫她站在刀尖上跨过万丈深渊。
但是她命定要在刚有点希望之后又受到惊吓。
“要是一辆大车撞坏的,”前一个弓箭手说道,“折断的铁条都应该朝里弯呀,怎么它们反倒是朝外弯的?”
“咳!咳!”特里斯丹对那个士兵说,“你的鼻子倒象沙特雷法庭审判官的鼻子呢。回答他的话呀,老太婆!”
“我的上帝!”她被逼得忍不住满眼含着泪水嚷道,“大人,我给你赌咒,是一辆大车把这些铁条碰断的,你听见那个人说他亲眼看见的呀。而且,这同你那埃及女人又有什么相干?”
“哼!”特里斯丹嘀咕道。
“见鬼!”第一个兵士受到上司夸奖,得意地说道,“这些铁条折断的痕迹还是崭新的。”
特里斯丹摇摇头,隐修女脸色变得煞白。“你说说,大车把你的窗子碰坏多久了?”
“一个月,也许两个礼拜,大人,我可记不清了。”
“她本来说的是一年以前呢。”那个兵士提醒道。
“这可靠不住哪。”那宪兵司令说。
“大人,”她依然颤抖着紧贴着窗口,生怕那些人起了疑心会把脑袋伸进小屋来探看。“大人,我向你赌咒说是一辆大车把窗格子碰坏的。我用天堂里众天使的名义向你保证。假若不是一辆大车,我情愿永远堕入地狱,永远不信上帝。”
“你发这个誓多么费劲!”特里斯丹用搜索的眼光看了她一眼说。
那可怜的女人觉得她的保证越来越不起作用了,这件事她可干得太粗心大意哪,她怀着恐怖的心情明白了自己不应该讲那样的话。
这时,另一个兵士喊着跑了过来:“大人,那个老仙女撒了谎,那个女巫并没有从绵羊街逃跑,那条街上的铁链整夜都锁得好好的,看管铁链的人并没有看见有人走过。”
脸色越来越阴沉的特里斯丹转身质问隐修女道:“你还有什么说的?”
她仍然打算把这个新的意外应付过去:“我怎么知道呀,大人,也许我记错了。我想她是过河去了吧。”
“那是相反的方向,”那长官说道,“她决不会回到人家正在追捕她的旧城区里去的。你撒谎,老太婆!”
“并且,”第一个兵士帮腔道,“河这边和对岸都没有船呀。”
“也许她是游泳过去的呢。”隐修女步步设防地说道。
“女人也会游泳吗!”那个兵士说。
“上帝的脑袋呀!你撒谎!你撒谎!”特里斯丹怒冲冲地说,“我倒想不去管那个女巫,却想把你抓了去,只要拷打你一刻钟,就会使你供出全部实情了。来吧!你跟我们来。”
她急忙抓住这句话。“随您便,大人,把我抓去吧,抓去吧,我情愿受刑。把我带走呀。快些,快些!咱们马上就走。”但她心里却在想:“在这当儿,我的女儿就能够得救哪。”
“天诛的!”那司令官说道,“她倒想尝尝刑具的滋味呢!我真不明白这个疯女人是怎么回事。”
一个头发灰白的巡兵从行列里走出来,向司令官说:“大人,她的确是个疯子!要是她真的放走了那个女巫,那可不能怪她,因为她是不喜欢那些埃及女人的。我在这一带巡夜已经十五年了,每晚都听到她用数不清的恶言恶语咒骂那些埃及女人。要是我们搜寻的正是那个牵着小山羊的跳舞姑娘,那更是她特别恨的一个呢。”
居第尔挣扎了一下说:“我特别恨那一个。”
宪兵们一致向司令官证明那老巡兵说的是事实。特里斯丹从隐修女口中没有问出半点线索,失望极了,只好转身走开,她用不安的眼光看着他慢慢向他的马走去。“得啦!”他咬着牙说道,“上路吧!我们再去寻找。不把那个埃及姑娘绞死我是睡不着觉的。”
他跨上马之后又迟疑了一会,他象猎狗嗅出野兽近在跟前舍不得离开那样探望着广场一带。看到他这样,处在生死关头的居第尔禁不住心跳起来。
最后他摇摇头跨上了马鞍。居第尔惶恐的心这才放宽了,自从那些人到来之后她就没敢望望她的女儿,这时才望了她一眼,并且低声说道:“你可得救了!”
那可怜的孩子一直待在屋角里,想着死亡就在跟前,不敢透气也不敢动弹。但是她完全听清了居第尔和特里斯丹的对话,她母亲的种种苦楚都传到了她的心头,她好象听到把她吊在悬崖上的绳子一根根断掉的声音,她以为已经看见它们断掉了二十次,最后才敢透一口气,才觉得已经脚踏实地了。
正在这时,她听见一个声音向那司令官说道:“牛角尖!宪兵司令先生,绞死女巫不是我们军队的事情。我手下的人都在那边,你自己干你的去吧。你知道我该回我的队伍去哪,他们在那边没有队长带领呢。”这是弗比斯·德·沙多倍尔的声音。她这时的心情真是难以描述。他就在跟前呢,她的朋友,她的依靠,她的保护人,她的避难所,她的弗比斯!她站起来了,她母亲还没来得及阻拦她,她已经扑到窗口上喊道:“弗比斯,到我这里来吧,我的弗比斯!”
弗比斯已经不在那里了,他刚刚驰马跑过了刀剪街的拐角,可是特里斯丹却还没有离开。
隐修女大吼一声向她的女儿扑去,她狠命把姑娘往回拽,因为用力太猛,指甲都掐进了她的脖子。母老虎一般的母亲可没料到这一着啊,但是太晚哪,特里斯丹已经看见了。
“嘿!嘿!”他大笑起来,象狼一般露出牙齿喊道,“原来老鼠洞里有两只老鼠呢!”
“我也疑心着呢。”那个兵士说。
特里斯丹拍拍他的肩膀:“你是一只好猫!得哪!”他说,“昂里耶·库赞在哪里?”
一个没穿军装也不象士兵的人从行列里走出来,他穿着一件半灰半褐色的衣服,头发平梳,皮衣袖,一只大手里拿着一捆绳子。这个人是常常跟在特里斯丹身边的,特里斯丹是常常跟在路易十一身边的。
“朋友,”特里斯丹·莱尔米特说道,“我想这就是我们搜寻的那个女巫了,你去给我把她抓来。你带着梯子没有?”
“柱子房的厂棚下有一架梯子,”那个人回答,“这件事要由那个公证人来处理吗?”他指着那石头绞刑架问道。
“是呀。”
“嗬哎!”那个人大笑一声,笑得比那宪兵司令更加残酷,“我们用不着费多大事的。”
“赶快!”特里斯丹说,“你过后再笑吧。”
隐修女自从特里斯丹看见她的女儿之后就失去了一切希望,一直没再说话。她把半死不活的可怜的埃及姑娘丢在屋角,自己又跑去站在窗口,用两只利爪般的手抓住窗台。人们看见她就这样用疯狂昏乱的眼光盯着那些宪兵。昂里耶·库赞走到她的小屋跟前,她向他做出一副凶狠狠的样子,使他吓得倒退。
“大人,”他转身去问宪兵司令,“该抓哪一个呀?”
“那个年轻的。”
“好极了,老的那一个似乎很不好惹呢。”
“可怜的牵小山羊的跳舞姑娘!”那年老的巡兵说。
昂里耶·库赞来到了窗前,那母亲的眼光使他低下了眼睛,他相当胆怯地说道:“夫人……”
她用很低的极端愤怒的声音问:“你要怎么样?”
“不是抓您,是抓另外那一个。”
“另外哪一个?”
“那个年轻的。”
她摇着头嚷道:“没有人!没有人!没有人!”
“有人!”刽子手说,“您明明知道。让我抓那个年轻的吧,我并不打算伤害您。”
她古怪地冷笑道:“你还说不打算伤害我呢!”
“让我把那个年轻的抓走吧,夫人!是司令先生要抓她的呀。”
她神色狂乱地回答道:“一个人也没有。”
“我告诉你有人的!”刽子手说,“我们全都看见你们是两个人。”
“再来看看!”隐修女冷笑说,“把你的脑袋伸进窗口来看看!”
刽子手仔细看了看那隐修女的指甲,就不敢上前了。
“赶快呀!”特里斯丹喊道。他刚刚把队伍排成半圆形,把老鼠洞围起来,自己骑着马站在绞刑架近旁。
昂里耶·库赞又不知所措地转身到司令那里去了一次,他把那捆绳子放在地上,呆头呆脑地把帽子拿在手里转动着。“大人,”他问道,“从哪儿进去呀?”
“从门口。”
“没有门呀。”
“从窗口。”
“它太窄小哪。”
“把它挖大些,”特里斯丹发怒道,“你没有带锄头来吗?”
那个母亲依旧站在窗口,从她的洞里望着他们。她再不存什么希望了,也不知道怎么办才好,她只希望人家不要把她的女儿带走。
昂里耶·库赞到柱子房的厂棚下找来了那个装着他的用具的箱子,还带回了一架折梯,立刻把它靠在绞刑架上。司令的五六个士兵拿来了几把镐和撬棍,特里斯丹同他们一道向窗口走来。
“老太婆,”宪兵司令用严厉的语气说,“好好地把那个姑娘交给我们。”
她好象没有听懂似的望着他。
“上帝的脑袋呀!”特里斯丹说道,“你为什么要妨碍我们遵照国王旨意绞死那个女巫呢?”
那不幸的人惨笑起来。
“为什么!因为她是我的女儿呀。”
她说这句话的口气,连特里斯丹·莱尔米特听了也禁不住战栗起来。
“我很抱歉,”宪兵司令说,“但这是国王的旨意。”
她又非常可怕地大笑起来,并且喊道:“你的国王和我有什么相干?我告诉你她是我的女儿!”
“把墙打通!”特里斯丹说。
要开一个相当大的入口,只需把窗口下的石块挖掉一层就行了。那个母亲听到镐头和撬棍在攻打她的堡垒,就惊恐地大叫一声,随后就在她的小屋里飞快地团团转,象在笼子里关了很久的野兽惯常做的那样。她不再说话了,但眼睛里闪着怒火。兵士们都从心底里觉得寒森森的。
突然她抱起那块石头,双手朝正在干得起劲的人们扔过去。因为她的手抖得厉害,石头扔得不准,没有打中一个人,却落到了特里斯丹的马脚下。
她气得直咬牙。
这时太阳虽然还没升起,但天已经大亮了,柱子房朽坏了的烟囱已经染上美丽的玫瑰色的光辉。正当这座大城市里早起的人快乐地打开屋顶窗户的时候,有几个平民,几个骑驴上市场去的水果贩正经过格雷沃广场,他们在那一大群围住老鼠洞的兵士跟前停了一会,惊奇地看看他们,又径自走开了。
隐修女坐到女儿身边去,在她前面用身子挡住她,眼睛发呆,听着那动也不动的可怜的孩子老在低声呼唤着“弗比斯!弗比斯!”估计那些挖墙的人愈来愈迫近跟前了,母亲就更加机械地往后退,把那姑娘挤得愈来愈贴在墙上。忽然隐修女看见(因为她一直留心看着,没有把眼光移开过),那块石头转动起来,听见特里斯丹给挖墙的士兵们鼓劲,于是她抛弃了刚才那种软弱,大声叫喊起来。她说话的声音有时象锯子一般刺耳,有时结结巴巴不成腔调,好象她所有的诅咒都涌到嘴边想要同时倾吐出来。“嗬!嗬!嗬!
多么骇人!你们都是强盗!你们当真要把我的女儿抢去么?我告诉你她是我的女儿呀!啊,这些恶棍!这些刽子手的走狗!这些可恶的凶手!救命呀,救命呀!救命呀!难道他们就要这样把我的孩子抢去吗?好心的上帝允许这种事吗?”
她又头发蓬乱地爬在地上,目光凶野,口流白沫地向特里斯丹说道:“走近一点来抢我的女儿!你不明白这个女人在向你说这是她的女儿吗?你可知道有了孩子是怎么回事?咳,你这山猫,你难道没有和你的母山猫同居过吗?你们没有生过小山猫吗?假若你有小山猫,它们号哭的时候,你难道也不动心吗?”
“搬掉那块石头,”特里斯丹说,“它已经松动了。”
几铁杠就把那块石头撬开了。我们已经说过,它是那个母亲最后的堡垒。
她扑到那块石头上,想把它放回原处,她用手去抓那块石头,可是那笨重的石头被六个人推动着,躲过了她,轻轻一下子顺着那几根铁杠滑到了地上。
那母亲看见入口已经打开,就横着身子躺在那里堵住它,她弯着胳膊把脑袋在地上碰着,用她那由于疲倦已经哑得几乎听不清的声音喊道:“救命呀!救命呀!”
“现在去抓那个女儿吧。”特里斯丹依旧无动于衷地说。
那个母亲用十分可怕的神态望着那些士兵。他们不敢向前,反倒想往后退却。
“去呀,”那司令官又说,“昂里耶·库赞,你去!”
没有谁移动一步。
司令官咒骂起来:“耶稣的脑袋呀!还算是些战士呢!怕起女人来了!”
“大人,”昂里耶·库赞说,“你说她是个女人么?”
“她有狮子般的鬃毛呢!”另一个说。
“去呀!”司令官又说道,“那个缺口相当大,三个人带头进去,就象突破彭多瓦斯一样。把这件事干完!谁第一个退后,我就把他砍成两段!”
处在那个司令和那个母亲之间,士兵们从两方面都受着威胁。他们犹豫了一会,随后下了决心,向老鼠洞挺进了。
隐修女见到这种情况,忽然直挺挺跪了下来,掠开满脸的头发,让两只细瘦的手垂在腰下,于是大颗的眼泪一滴一滴地从她眼睛里流出,不断顺着两颊象溪流一般往下淌。同时她又说起话来,不过声音是那样恳切、柔顺、卑下,那样令人感动,特里斯丹周围那些本来连人肉都敢吃的家伙,不止一人都在那里揩眼泪。
“大人们,军警先生们!一句话,我必须告诉你们一件事,她是我的女儿。你们知道吗?是我从前丢失了的小女儿。听着,这是一段往事。请想想我是认得军警先生们的。小孩子们因为我是个妓女,向我投石子的时候,他们都对我挺好。你们知道吗?你们要是知道,就会把我的孩子留给我了。我是个可怜的妓女,是那些埃及女人把我的孩子偷走的,然而我把她的一只小鞋却保存了十五年。看吧,就是这一只。她曾经有过这样小的脚呢。在兰斯呀!拉·尚特孚勒里!在困难过多街。你们也许认识她,她就是我呀。你们年轻的时候,那是好时光呀,有多少快活事儿。你们会怜悯我的,不是吗,大人们?那些埃及女人把她从我家里偷走,藏了十五年,我以为她死掉哪。
你们想想,好朋友们,想想我竟当她死掉了呢。我在这个洞里住了十五年,冬天也没有炉火,这可苦呢。可怜的亲爱的小鞋!我哭了那么久,好心的上帝一定听见了,昨天晚上他把我的女儿还给了我。这是好上帝的一桩圣迹,她并没有死。我相信你们不会从我身边把她抢走的。再说,要是你们想抓我去,那我是什么也不说的。可是她呢,她才不过是个十六岁的孩子!给她时间见见天日吧!她冒犯了你们什么呢?什么也没有。我也没有。要是你们知道我只有她一个,我老了,她是圣处女赏赐给我的。你们都是很善良的人,你们原先不知道她是我的女儿,现在可知道哪。啊,我爱她呀。大司令官先生,我情愿自己胸口上有个大洞,也不愿她的指头上有个小伤口呀。您的样子象是个善心的老爷!我向您讲的这些话使您明白了真相了,不是吗?啊,要是您也有母亲的话,大人!您是领队的人,请把我的女儿留给我吧!您看我就象恳求耶稣基督一般在恳求您!我并不向谁要求什么,我是兰斯人,大人们,我有我叔父马蒂厄·布拉东留给我的一块田地。我不希求什么,可是我要我的女儿!好心的上帝并不是无缘无故把她送还给我的呀!国王,你说起国王!杀死我的女儿也不见得会使他怎么高兴,何况国王是个好心人!她是我的女儿,我的女儿,她是我的呀!她不是国王的!不是你们的!我愿意走掉,我们愿意走掉!总而言之,要是有两个女人走过,一个是母亲,一个是女儿,那总得让她们通过的呀!让我们走吧!我们是兰斯人。啊,你们都是好心的,我喜欢你们大家。你们不会把我亲爱的小人儿抓去,那是不可能的呀!这完全是不可能的,不是吗?我的孩子,我的孩子!”
我们描绘不出她的姿势,她的声调,她说话时吞下去的眼泪,她合起来又搓弄着的双手,她那凄苦的笑容,含泪的眼光,那些呻吟和叹息,那些夹杂着没条理的不连贯的傻话的悲惨的激动人心的叫喊。她住口不响了。特里斯丹皱起眉头,不过那只是为了掩饰他那老虎眼睛里滚下的一滴眼泪。但他克制住了这种软弱,用直截了当的声调说:“这是国王的旨意。”
随后他便凑在昂里耶·库赞的耳朵边低声告诉他:“快点了结吧!”那可怕的宪兵司令也许是觉得连他自己的心也有些支持不住哪。
刽子手同军警们一道进了那间小屋。那个母亲丝毫没有抵抗,只是朝她女儿身边爬去,不顾死活地扑在她身上。埃及姑娘看见兵士们近在眼前,就又被死亡的恐惧抓住了。“母亲!”她用无限悲苦的声调喊道,“我的母亲!
他们来哪!保护我吧!”那母亲用微弱的声音答道:“是的,我保护你!”
她把女儿紧紧抱在怀里,不停地吻她。两人就这样躺在地上,母亲伏在女儿身上,形成一副悲惨的景象。
昂里耶·库赞从姑娘的美丽的肩膀下把她拦腰抱住。她感到了那只手,说了声:“呃!”就昏过去了。那刽子手的眼泪大颗大颗地往她身上滴着,想把她抱起来。他尽力把那个母亲拽开,但那母亲把双手紧紧地箍在女儿的腰上,抱得紧极了,他没办法把她俩分开。于是昂里耶·库赞只好把那姑娘拖出小屋,那个母亲便拖在她的后边,母亲的眼睛也是闭得紧紧的。
这时太阳出来了,广场上已经有了一大批人,他们在远处望着他这样拖着两个女人向那个绞刑架走去。因为这是宪兵司令特里斯丹执行刑罚时的老规矩,他总是禁止旁观的人走到跟前去。
四周窗子口一个人也没有,他们只望见远远的圣母院钟塔顶上似乎有两个黑色的人影突现在早晨明朗的天空里,仿佛在那里观看。
昂里耶·库赞把两个女人拖到那要命的梯子脚下就停住脚步,那悲惨景象使他喘不过气来。他把绳子绕在那姑娘的可爱的脖子上,那不幸的姑娘感到了麻绳的可怕的接触。她睁开眼睛,看见那石头绞刑架两只瘦骨嶙峋的手臂摊开在她的头顶,她抖动了一下,用令人心碎的尖声叫喊道:“不,不,我不愿死!”那个母亲把脑袋整个儿埋在女儿的衣裙里,一句话也不说。人们只看见她全身哆嗦,只听见她不住地在她女儿身上亲吻。刽子手趁这当儿赶快把她的两只胳膊扯开。也许是因为力竭了,也许是由于绝望了,她听凭那刽子手做去。于是刽子手把那姑娘扛上肩头,那可爱的人就弯弯地搭在他那大脑袋上。他踏上梯级准备往上爬了。
这时,躺在地上的母亲忽然睁开了眼睛,她不出一声,却站了起来,神色非常骇人,象野兽扑向捕获物一般扑到刽子手的手上,把它咬住,这只不过是一刹那的工夫。刽子手痛得大叫,大家跑了过来,好不容易才把他血淋淋的手从那母亲的牙齿当中拽出来。她不出一声,人们把她使劲一推,就看见她的头沉重地撞在石板地上,人们扶起她,她又倒了下去,原来她已经死去了。
刽子手并没放松那个姑娘,他扛着她往梯子上爬去。
点击收听单词发音
1 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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2 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
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3 edifice | |
n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿,教室) | |
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4 bleating | |
v.(羊,小牛)叫( bleat的现在分词 );哭诉;发出羊叫似的声音;轻声诉说 | |
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5 awakened | |
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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6 slumbers | |
睡眠,安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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7 disorder | |
n.紊乱,混乱;骚动,骚乱;疾病,失调 | |
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8 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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9 croaking | |
v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 );用粗的声音说 | |
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10 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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11 oars | |
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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12 streak | |
n.条理,斑纹,倾向,少许,痕迹;v.加条纹,变成条纹,奔驰,快速移动 | |
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13 misty | |
adj.雾蒙蒙的,有雾的 | |
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14 marshes | |
n.沼泽,湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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15 phantoms | |
n.鬼怪,幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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16 imbued | |
v.使(某人/某事)充满或激起(感情等)( imbue的过去式和过去分词 );使充满;灌输;激发(强烈感情或品质等) | |
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17 infancy | |
n.婴儿期;幼年期;初期 | |
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18 superstitions | |
迷信,迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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19 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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20 witchcraft | |
n.魔法,巫术 | |
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21 cower | |
v.畏缩,退缩,抖缩 | |
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22 vapors | |
n.水汽,水蒸气,无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 );自夸者;幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁(症)v.自夸,(使)蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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23 besieged | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24 asylum | |
n.避难所,庇护所,避难 | |
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25 tremors | |
震颤( tremor的名词复数 ); 战栗; 震颤声; 大地的轻微震动 | |
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26 entreat | |
v.恳求,恳请 | |
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27 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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28 sobs | |
啜泣(声),呜咽(声)( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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29 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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30 prostrate | |
v.拜倒,平卧,衰竭;adj.拜倒的,平卧的,衰竭的 | |
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31 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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32 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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33 reassured | |
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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34 caresses | |
爱抚,抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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35 crouch | |
v.蹲伏,蜷缩,低头弯腰;n.蹲伏 | |
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36 crouched | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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38 rue | |
n.懊悔,芸香,后悔;v.后悔,悲伤,懊悔 | |
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39 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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40 stammered | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41 stammer | |
n.结巴,口吃;v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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42 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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43 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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44 stunned | |
adj. 震惊的,惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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45 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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46 overthrown | |
adj. 打翻的,推倒的,倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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47 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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48 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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49 reverberating | |
回响,回荡( reverberate的现在分词 ); 使反响,使回荡,使反射 | |
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50 frightful | |
adj.可怕的;讨厌的 | |
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51 cloister | |
n.修道院;v.隐退,使与世隔绝 | |
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52 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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53 lackeys | |
n.听差( lackey的名词复数 );男仆(通常穿制服);卑躬屈膝的人;被待为奴仆的人 | |
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54 crouching | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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55 terrain | |
n.地面,地形,地图 | |
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56 dame | |
n.女士 | |
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57 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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58 rustled | |
v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59 edifices | |
n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
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60 den | |
n.兽穴;秘密地方;安静的小房间,私室 | |
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61 commotion | |
n.骚动,动乱 | |
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62 furrow | |
n.沟;垄沟;轨迹;车辙;皱纹 | |
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63 furrowed | |
v.犁田,开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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65 nave | |
n.教堂的中部;本堂 | |
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66 mingled | |
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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67 brink | |
n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘,边沿 | |
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68 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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69 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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70 ruse | |
n.诡计,计策;诡计 | |
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71 syllable | |
n.音节;vt.分音节 | |
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72 rippling | |
起涟漪的,潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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73 owls | |
n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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74 mediocre | |
adj.平常的,普通的 | |
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75 droll | |
adj.古怪的,好笑的 | |
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76 pout | |
v.撅嘴;绷脸;n.撅嘴;生气,不高兴 | |
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77 jurisdiction | |
n.司法权,审判权,管辖权,控制权 | |
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78 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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79 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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80 jaws | |
n.口部;嘴 | |
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81 monologue | |
n.长篇大论,(戏剧等中的)独白 | |
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82 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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83 malicious | |
adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
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84 inconvenient | |
adj.不方便的,令人感到麻烦的 | |
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85 niggardly | |
adj.吝啬的,很少的 | |
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86 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
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87 murmurs | |
n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 );低语声;怨言;嘀咕 | |
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88 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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89 gallows | |
n.绞刑架,绞台 | |
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90 bellies | |
n.肚子( belly的名词复数 );腹部;(物体的)圆形或凸起部份;腹部…形的 | |
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91 despoiled | |
v.掠夺,抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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92 incessantly | |
ad.不停地 | |
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93 exorbitant | |
adj.过分的;过度的 | |
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94 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
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95 garrulous | |
adj.唠叨的,多话的 | |
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96 chatter | |
vi./n.喋喋不休;短促尖叫;(牙齿)打战 | |
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97 prow | |
n.(飞机)机头,船头 | |
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98 isle | |
n.小岛,岛 | |
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99 enraged | |
使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 ); 歜; 激愤 | |
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100 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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101 skull | |
n.头骨;颅骨 | |
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102 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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103 shuddered | |
v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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104 mansion | |
n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
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105 yolk | |
n.蛋黄,卵黄 | |
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106 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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107 vault | |
n.拱形圆顶,地窖,地下室 | |
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108 aviary | |
n.大鸟笼,鸟舍 | |
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109 labyrinth | |
n.迷宫;难解的事物;迷路 | |
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110 alleys | |
胡同,小巷( alley的名词复数 ); 小径 | |
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111 rascal | |
n.流氓;不诚实的人 | |
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112 lewd | |
adj.淫荡的 | |
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113 constable | |
n.(英国)警察,警官 | |
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114 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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115 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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116 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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117 malignant | |
adj.恶性的,致命的;恶意的,恶毒的 | |
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118 libertine | |
n.淫荡者;adj.放荡的,自由思想的 | |
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119 prying | |
adj.爱打听的v.打听,刺探(他人的私事)( pry的现在分词 );撬开 | |
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120 buttresses | |
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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121 fugitives | |
n.亡命者,逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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122 condemn | |
vt.谴责,指责;宣判(罪犯),判刑 | |
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123 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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124 repulsed | |
v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 );驳斥;拒绝 | |
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125 wharf | |
n.码头,停泊处 | |
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126 beheld | |
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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127 chattered | |
(人)喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 ); 唠叨; (牙齿)打战; (机器)震颤 | |
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128 illuminated | |
adj.被照明的;受启迪的 | |
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129 spoke | |
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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130 ascend | |
vi.渐渐上升,升高;vt.攀登,登上 | |
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131 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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132 quay | |
n.码头,靠岸处 | |
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133 ascended | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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135 bourgeois | |
adj./n.追求物质享受的(人);中产阶级分子 | |
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136 shutter | |
n.百叶窗;(照相机)快门;关闭装置 | |
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137 unevenness | |
n. 不平坦,不平衡,不匀性 | |
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138 spacious | |
adj.广阔的,宽敞的 | |
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139 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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140 petrified | |
adj.惊呆的;目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆,使惊呆;变僵硬;使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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141 betoken | |
v.预示 | |
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142 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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143 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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144 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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145 funereal | |
adj.悲哀的;送葬的 | |
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146 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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147 enveloped | |
v.包围,笼罩,包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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148 plaintive | |
adj.可怜的,伤心的 | |
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149 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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150 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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151 shuddering | |
v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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152 eternity | |
n.不朽,来世;永恒,无穷 | |
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153 fatality | |
n.不幸,灾祸,天命 | |
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154 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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155 suppliant | |
adj.哀恳的;n.恳求者,哀求者 | |
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156 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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157 enveloping | |
v.包围,笼罩,包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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158 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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159 tarnish | |
n.晦暗,污点;vt.使失去光泽;玷污 | |
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160 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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161 apostate | |
n.背叛者,变节者 | |
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162 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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163 slain | |
杀死,宰杀,杀戮( slay的过去分词 ); (slay的过去分词) | |
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164 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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165 vibration | |
n.颤动,振动;摆动 | |
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166 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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167 lava | |
n.熔岩,火山岩 | |
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168 adoration | |
n.爱慕,崇拜 | |
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169 abominable | |
adj.可厌的,令人憎恶的 | |
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170 impurity | |
n.不洁,不纯,杂质 | |
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171 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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172 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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173 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
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174 victorious | |
adj.胜利的,得胜的 | |
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175 vent | |
n.通风口,排放口;开衩;vt.表达,发泄 | |
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176 wretch | |
n.可怜的人,不幸的人;卑鄙的人 | |
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177 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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178 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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179 sergeants | |
警官( sergeant的名词复数 ); (美国警察)警佐; (英国警察)巡佐; 陆军(或空军)中士 | |
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180 sergeant | |
n.警官,中士 | |
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181 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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182 cavalcade | |
n.车队等的行列 | |
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183 recluse | |
n.隐居者 | |
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184 writhed | |
(因极度痛苦而)扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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185 credible | |
adj.可信任的,可靠的 | |
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186 bruised | |
[医]青肿的,瘀紫的 | |
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187 clenched | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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188 riveted | |
铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 ); 把…固定住; 吸引; 引起某人的注意 | |
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189 fetter | |
n./vt.脚镣,束缚 | |
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190 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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191 nun | |
n.修女,尼姑 | |
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192 mumble | |
n./v.喃喃而语,咕哝 | |
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193 intonation | |
n.语调,声调;发声 | |
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194 devour | |
v.吞没;贪婪地注视或谛听,贪读;使着迷 | |
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195 devoured | |
吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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196 cavalry | |
n.骑兵;轻装甲部队 | |
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197 faltered | |
(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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198 reclaim | |
v.要求归还,收回;开垦 | |
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199 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
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200 ornamented | |
adj.花式字体的v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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201 grumbled | |
抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 ); 发牢骚; 咕哝; 发哼声 | |
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202 amulet | |
n.护身符 | |
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203 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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204 inscribed | |
v.写,刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 );内接 | |
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205 celestial | |
adj.天体的;天上的 | |
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206 depicting | |
描绘,描画( depict的现在分词 ); 描述 | |
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207 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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208 torrents | |
n.倾注;奔流( torrent的名词复数 );急流;爆发;连续不断 | |
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209 barricaded | |
设路障于,以障碍物阻塞( barricade的过去式和过去分词 ); 设路障[防御工事]保卫或固守 | |
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210 rusted | |
v.(使)生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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211 stumps | |
(被砍下的树的)树桩( stump的名词复数 ); 残肢; (板球三柱门的)柱; 残余部分 | |
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212 intoxicated | |
喝醉的,极其兴奋的 | |
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213 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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214 vehemence | |
n.热切;激烈;愤怒 | |
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215 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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216 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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217 raptures | |
极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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218 interspersing | |
v.散布,散置( intersperse的现在分词 );点缀 | |
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219 prettily | |
adv.优美地;可爱地 | |
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220 resounded | |
v.(指声音等)回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 );产生回响;(指某处)回荡着声音 | |
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221 galloping | |
adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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222 gallop | |
v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔;飞速发展 | |
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223 shriek | |
v./n.尖叫,叫喊 | |
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224 curt | |
adj.简短的,草率的 | |
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225 lugubrious | |
adj.悲哀的,忧郁的 | |
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226 untied | |
松开,解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 ); 解除,使自由; 解决 | |
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227 jug | |
n.(有柄,小口,可盛水等的)大壶,罐,盂 | |
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228 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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229 tranquil | |
adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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230 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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231 grimace | |
v.做鬼脸,面部歪扭 | |
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232 hermit | |
n.隐士,修道者;隐居 | |
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233 regaining | |
复得( regain的现在分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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234 archer | |
n.射手,弓箭手 | |
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235 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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236 outwards | |
adj.外面的,公开的,向外的;adv.向外;n.外形 | |
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237 growled | |
v.(动物)发狺狺声, (雷)作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 );低声咆哮着说 | |
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238 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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239 detests | |
v.憎恶,嫌恶,痛恨( detest的第三人称单数 ) | |
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240 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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241 lair | |
n.野兽的巢穴;躲藏处 | |
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242 loath | |
adj.不愿意的;勉强的 | |
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243 dilated | |
adj.加宽的,扩大的v.(使某物)扩大,膨胀,张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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244 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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245 rabble | |
n.乌合之众,暴民;下等人 | |
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246 ineffable | |
adj.无法表达的,不可言喻的 | |
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247 muzzle | |
n.鼻口部;口套;枪(炮)口;vt.使缄默 | |
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248 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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249 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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250 droop | |
v.低垂,下垂;凋萎,萎靡 | |
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251 sneer | |
v.轻蔑;嘲笑;n.嘲笑,讥讽的言语 | |
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252 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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253 steadfastly | |
adv.踏实地,不变地;岿然;坚定不渝 | |
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254 cavern | |
n.洞穴,大山洞 | |
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255 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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256 fortress | |
n.堡垒,防御工事 | |
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257 hurled | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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258 joyously | |
ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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259 asses | |
n. 驴,愚蠢的人,臀部 adv. (常用作后置)用于贬损或骂人 | |
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260 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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261 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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262 foaming | |
adj.布满泡沫的;发泡 | |
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263 bristling | |
a.竖立的 | |
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264 cub | |
n.幼兽,年轻无经验的人 | |
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265 bulwark | |
n.堡垒,保障,防御 | |
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266 glided | |
v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 );掠过;(鸟或飞机 ) 滑翔 | |
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267 barricading | |
设路障于,以障碍物阻塞( barricade的现在分词 ); 设路障[防御工事]保卫或固守 | |
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268 breach | |
n.违反,不履行;破裂;vt.冲破,攻破 | |
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269 shrieking | |
v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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270 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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271 abreast | |
adv.并排地;跟上(时代)的步伐,与…并进地 | |
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272 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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273 flayed | |
v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 );把…打得皮开肉绽;剥(通常指动物)的皮;严厉批评 | |
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274 supplicating | |
v.祈求,哀求,恳求( supplicate的现在分词 ) | |
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275 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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276 wrung | |
绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 ); 握紧(尤指别人的手); 把(湿衣服)拧干; 绞掉(水) | |
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277 groans | |
n.呻吟,叹息( groan的名词复数 );呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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278 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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279 redoubtable | |
adj.可敬的;可怕的 | |
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280 shrieked | |
v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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281 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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282 hemp | |
n.大麻;纤维 | |
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283 eyelids | |
n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 );眼睛也不眨一下;不露声色;面不改色 | |
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284 exhaustion | |
n.耗尽枯竭,疲惫,筋疲力尽,竭尽,详尽无遗的论述 | |
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285 gracefully | |
ad.大大方方地;优美地 | |
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286 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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287 brutality | |
n.野蛮的行为,残忍,野蛮 | |
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