MR. JAMES BURTON did not at all like the idea of his young step-brother "careering about Switzerland" with Montanelli. But positively1 to forbid a harmless botanizing tour with an elderly professor of theology would seem to Arthur, who knew nothing of the reason for the prohibition2, absurdly tyrannical. He would immediately attribute it to religious or racial prejudice; and the Burtons prided themselves on their enlightened tolerance3. The whole family had been staunch Protestants and Conservatives ever since Burton & Sons, ship-owners, of London and Leghorn, had first set up in business, more than a century back. But they held that English gentlemen must deal fairly, even with Papists; and when the head of the house, finding it dull to remain a widower4, had married the pretty Catholic governess of his younger children, the two elder sons, James and Thomas, much as they resented the presence of a step-mother hardly older than themselves, had submitted with sulky resignation to the will of Providence5. Since the father's death the eldest6 brother's marriage had further complicated an already difficult position; but both brothers had honestly tried to protect Gladys, as long as she lived, from Julia's merciless tongue, and to do their duty, as they understood it, by Arthur. They did not even pretend to like the lad, and their generosity7 towards him showed itself chiefly in providing him with lavish8 supplies of pocket money and allowing him to go his own way.
In answer to his letter, accordingly, Arthur received a cheque to cover his expenses and a cold permission to do as he pleased about his holidays. He expended9 half his spare cash on botanical books and pressing-cases, and started off with the Padre for his first Alpine10 ramble11.
Montanelli was in lighter12 spirits than Arthur had seen him in for a long while. After the first shock of the conversation in the garden he had gradually recovered his mental balance, and now looked upon the case more calmly. Arthur was very young and inexperienced; his decision could hardly be, as yet, irrevocable. Surely there was still time to win him back by gentle persuasion13 and reasoning from the dangerous path upon which he had barely entered.
They had intended to stay a few days at Geneva; but at the first sight of the glaring white streets and dusty, tourist-crammed promenades14, a little frown appeared on Arthur's face. Montanelli watched him with quiet amusement.
"You don't like it, carino?"
"I hardly know. It's so different from what I expected. Yes, the lake is beautiful, and I like the shape of those hills." They were standing15 on Rousseau's Island, and he pointed16 to the long, severe outlines of the Savoy side. "But the town looks so stiff and tidy, somehow--so Protestant; it has a self-satisfied air. No, I don't like it; it reminds me of Julia."
Montanelli laughed. "Poor boy, what a misfortune! Well, we are here for our own amusement, so there is no reason why we should stop. Suppose we take a sail on the lake to-day, and go up into the mountains to-morrow morning?"
"But, Padre, you wanted to stay here?"
"My dear boy, I have seen all these places a dozen times. My holiday is to see your pleasure. Where would you like to go?"
"If it is really the same to you, I should like to follow the river back to its source."
"The Rhone?"
"No, the Arve; it runs so fast."
"Then we will go to Chamonix."
They spent the afternoon drifting about in a little sailing boat. The beautiful lake produced far less impression upon Arthur than the gray and muddy Arve. He had grown up beside the Mediterranean17, and was accustomed to blue ripples18; but he had a positive passion for swiftly moving water, and the hurried rushing of the glacier19 stream delighted him beyond measure. "It is so much in earnest," he said.
Early on the following morning they started for Chamonix. Arthur was in very high spirits while driving through the fertile valley country; but when they entered upon the winding20 road near Cluses, and the great, jagged hills closed in around them, he became serious and silent. From St. Martin they walked slowly up the valley, stopping to sleep at wayside chalets or tiny mountain villages, and wandering on again as their fancy directed. Arthur was peculiarly sensitive to the influence of scenery, and the first waterfall that they passed threw him into an ecstacy which was delightful21 to see; but as they drew nearer to the snow-peaks he passed out of this rapturous mood into one of dreamy exaltation that Montanelli had not seen before. There seemed to be a kind of mystical relationship between him and the mountains. He would lie for hours motionless in the dark, secret, echoing pine-forests, looking out between the straight, tall trunks into the sunlit outer world of flashing peaks and barren cliffs. Montanelli watched him with a kind of sad envy.
"I wish you could show me what you see, carino," he said one day as he looked up from his book, and saw Arthur stretched beside him on the moss22 in the same attitude as an hour before, gazing out with wide, dilated23 eyes into the glittering expanse of blue and white. They had turned aside from the high-road to sleep at a quiet village near the falls of the Diosaz, and, the sun being already low in a cloudless sky, had mounted a point of pine-clad rock to wait for the Alpine glow over the dome24 and needles of the Mont Blanc chain. Arthur raised his head with eyes full of wonder and mystery.
"What I see, Padre? I see a great, white being in a blue void that has no beginning and no end. I see it waiting, age after age, for the coming of the Spirit of God. I see it through a glass darkly."
Montanelli sighed.
"I used to see those things once."
"Do you never see them now?"
"Never. I shall not see them any more. They are there, I know; but I have not the eyes to see them. I see quite other things."
"What do you see?"
"I, carino? I see a blue sky and a snow-mountain --that is all when I look up into the heights. But down there it is different."
He pointed to the valley below them. Arthur knelt down and bent25 over the sheer edge of the precipice26. The great pine trees, dusky in the gathering27 shades of evening, stood like sentinels along the narrow banks confining the river. Presently the sun, red as a glowing coal, dipped behind a jagged mountain peak, and all the life and light deserted29 the face of nature. Straightway there came upon the valley something dark and threatening --sullen, terrible, full of spectral30 weapons. The perpendicular31 cliffs of the barren western mountains seemed like the teeth of a monster lurking32 to snatch a victim and drag him down into the maw of the deep valley, black with its moaning forests. The pine trees were rows of knife-blades whispering: "Fall upon us!" and in the gathering darkness the torrent33 roared and howled, beating against its rocky prison walls with the frenzy34 of an everlasting35 despair.
"Padre!" Arthur rose, shuddering36, and drew back from the precipice. "It is like hell."
"No, my son," Montanelli answered softly, "it is only like a human soul."
"The souls of them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death?"
"The souls of them that pass you day by day in the street."
Arthur shivered, looking down into the shadows. A dim white mist was hovering37 among the pine trees, clinging faintly about the desperate agony of the torrent, like a miserable38 ghost that had no consolation39 to give.
"Look!" Arthur said suddenly. "The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light."
Eastwards40 the snow-peaks burned in the afterglow. When the red light had faded from the summits Montanelli turned and roused Arthur with a touch on the shoulder.
"Come in, carino; all the light is gone. We shall lose our way in the dark if we stay any longer."
"It is like a corpse," Arthur said as he turned away from the spectral face of the great snow-peak glimmering41 through the twilight42.
They descended43 cautiously among the black trees to the chalet where they were to sleep.
As Montanelli entered the room where Arthur was waiting for him at the supper table, he saw that the lad seemed to have shaken off the ghostly fancies of the dark, and to have changed into quite another creature.
"Oh, Padre, do come and look at this absurd dog! It can dance on its hind28 legs."
He was as much absorbed in the dog and its accomplishments44 as he had been in the after-glow. The woman of the chalet, red-faced and white-aproned, with sturdy arms akimbo, stood by smiling, while he put the animal through its tricks. "One can see there's not much on his mind if he can carry on that way," she said in patois45 to her daughter. "And what a handsome lad!"
Arthur coloured like a schoolgirl, and the woman, seeing that he had understood, went away laughing at his confusion. At supper he talked of nothing but plans for excursions, mountain ascents46, and botanizing expeditions. Evidently his dreamy fancies had not interfered47 with either his spirits or his appetite.
When Montanelli awoke the next morning Arthur had disappeared. He had started before daybreak for the higher pastures "to help Gaspard drive up the goats."
Breakfast had not long been on the table, however, when he came tearing into the room, hatless, with a tiny peasant girl of three years old perched on his shoulder, and a great bunch of wild flowers in his hand.
Montanelli looked up, smiling. This was a curious contrast to the grave and silent Arthur of Pisa or Leghorn.
"Where have you been, you madcap? Scampering48 all over the mountains without any breakfast?"
"Oh, Padre, it was so jolly! The mountains look perfectly49 glorious at sunrise; and the dew is so thick! Just look!"
He lifted for inspection50 a wet and muddy boot.
"We took some bread and cheese with us, and got some goat's milk up there on the pasture; oh, it was nasty! But I'm hungry again, now; and I want something for this little person, too. Annette, won't you have some honey?"
He had sat down with the child on his knee, and was helping51 her to put the flowers in order.
"No, no!" Montanelli interposed. "I can't have you catching52 cold. Run and change your wet things. Come to me, Annette. Where did you pick her up?"
"At the top of the village. She belongs to the man we saw yesterday--the man that cobbles the commune's boots. Hasn't she lovely eyes? She's got a tortoise in her pocket, and she calls it 'Caroline.'"
When Arthur had changed his wet socks and came down to breakfast he found the child seated on the Padre's knee, chattering53 volubly to him about her tortoise, which she was holding upside down in a chubby54 hand, that "monsieur" might admire the wriggling55 legs.
"Look, monsieur!" she was saying gravely in her half-intelligible patois: "Look at Caroline's boots!"
Montanelli sat playing with the child, stroking her hair, admiring her darling tortoise, and telling her wonderful stories. The woman of the chalet, coming in to clear the table, stared in amazement56 at the sight of Annette turning out the pockets of the grave gentleman in clerical dress.
"God teaches the little ones to know a good man," she said. "Annette is always afraid of strangers; and see, she is not shy with his reverence57 at all. The wonderful thing! Kneel down, Annette, and ask the good monsieur's blessing58 before he goes; it will bring thee luck."
"I didn't know you could play with children that way, Padre," Arthur said an hour later, as they walked through the sunlit pasture-land. "That child never took her eyes off you all the time. Do you know, I think----"
"Yes?"
"I was only going to say--it seems to me almost a pity that the Church should forbid priests to marry. I cannot quite understand why. You see, the training of children is such a serious thing, and it means so much to them to be surrounded from the very beginning with good influences, that I should have thought the holier a man's vocation59 and the purer his life, the more fit he is to be a father. I am sure, Padre, if you had not been under a vow60,--if you had married,--your children would have been the very----"
The word was uttered in a hasty whisper that seemed to deepen the ensuing silence.
"Padre," Arthur began again, distressed62 by the other's sombre look, "do you think there is anything wrong in what I said? Of course I may be mistaken; but I must think as it comes natural to me to think."
"Perhaps," Montanelli answered gently, "you do not quite realize the meaning of what you just said. You will see differently in a few years. Meanwhile we had better talk about something else."
It was the first break in the perfect ease and harmony that reigned63 between them on this ideal holiday.
From Chamonix they went on by the Tete-Noire to Martigny, where they stopped to rest, as the weather was stiflingly64 hot. After dinner they sat on the terrace of the hotel, which was sheltered from the sun and commanded a good view of the mountains. Arthur brought out his specimen65 box and plunged66 into an earnest botanical discussion in Italian.
Two English artists were sitting on the terrace; one sketching67, the other lazily chatting. It did not seem to have occurred to him that the strangers might understand English.
"Leave off daubing at the landscape, Willie," he said; "and draw that glorious Italian boy going into ecstasies68 over those bits of ferns. Just look at the line of his eyebrows69! You only need to put a crucifix for the magnifying-glass and a Roman toga for the jacket and knickerbockers, and there's your Early Christian70 complete, expression and all."
"Early Christian be hanged! I sat beside that youth at dinner; he was just as ecstatic over the roast fowl71 as over those grubby little weeds. He's pretty enough; that olive colouring is beautiful; but he's not half so picturesque72 as his father."
"His--who?"
"His father, sitting there straight in front of you. Do you mean to say you've passed him over? It's a perfectly magnificent face."
"Why, you dunder-headed, go-to-meeting Methodist! Don't you know a Catholic priest when you see one?"
"A priest? By Jove, so he is! Yes, I forgot; vow of chastity, and all that sort of thing. Well then, we'll be charitable and suppose the boy's his nephew."
"What idiotic73 people!" Arthur whispered, looking up with dancing eyes. "Still, it is kind of them to think me like you; I wish I were really your nephew----Padre, what is the matter? How white you are!"
Montanelli was standing up, pressing one hand to his forehead. "I am a little giddy," he said in a curiously74 faint, dull tone. "Perhaps I was too much in the sun this morning. I will go and lie down, carino; it's nothing but the heat."
. . . . .
After a fortnight beside the Lake of Lucerne Arthur and Montanelli returned to Italy by the St. Gothard Pass. They had been fortunate as to weather and had made several very pleasant excursions; but the first charm was gone out of their enjoyment75. Montanelli was continually haunted by an uneasy thought of the "more definite talk" for which this holiday was to have been the opportunity. In the Arve valley he had purposely put off all reference to the subject of which they had spoken under the magnolia tree; it would be cruel, he thought, to spoil the first delights of Alpine scenery for a nature so artistic76 as Arthur's by associating them with a conversation which must necessarily be painful. Ever since the day at Martigny he had said to himself each morning; "I will speak to-day," and each evening: "I will speak to-morrow;" and now the holiday was over, and he still repeated again and again: "To-morrow, to-morrow." A chill, indefinable sense of something not quite the same as it had been, of an invisible veil falling between himself and Arthur, kept him silent, until, on the last evening of their holiday, he realized suddenly that he must speak now if he would speak at all. They were stopping for the night at Lugano, and were to start for Pisa next morning. He would at least find out how far his darling had been drawn77 into the fatal quicksand of Italian politics.
"The rain has stopped, carino," he said after sunset; "and this is the only chance we shall have to see the lake. Come out; I want to have a talk with you."
They walked along the water's edge to a quiet spot and sat down on a low stone wall. Close beside them grew a rose-bush, covered with scarlet78 hips79; one or two belated clusters of creamy blossom still hung from an upper branch, swaying mournfully and heavy with raindrops. On the green surface of the lake a little boat, with white wings faintly fluttering, rocked in the dewy breeze. It looked as light and frail80 as a tuft of silvery dandelion seed flung upon the water. High up on Monte Salvatore the window of some shepherd's hut opened a golden eye. The roses hung their heads and dreamed under the still September clouds, and the water plashed and murmured softly among the pebbles81 of the shore.
"This will be my only chance of a quiet talk with you for a long time," Montanelli began. "You will go back to your college work and friends; and I, too, shall be very busy this winter. I want to understand quite clearly what our position as regards each other is to be; and so, if you----" He stopped for a moment and then continued more slowly: "If you feel that you can still trust me as you used to do, I want you to tell me more definitely than that night in the seminary garden, how far you have gone."
Arthur looked out across the water, listened quietly, and said nothing.
"I want to know, if you will tell me," Montanelli went on; "whether you have bound yourself by a vow, or--in any way."
"There is nothing to tell, dear Padre; I have not bound myself, but I am bound."
"I don't understand------"
"What is the use of vows82? They are not what binds84 people. If you feel in a certain way about a thing, that binds you to it; if you don't feel that way, nothing else can bind83 you."
"Do you mean, then, that this thing--this-- feeling is quite irrevocable? Arthur, have you thought what you are saying?"
Arthur turned round and looked straight into Montanelli's eyes.
"Padre, you asked me if I could trust you. Can you not trust me, too? Indeed, if there were anything to tell, I would tell it to you; but there is no use in talking about these things. I have not forgotten what you said to me that night; I shall never forget it. But I must go my way and follow the light that I see."
Montanelli picked a rose from the bush, pulled off the petals85 one by one, and tossed them into the water.
"You are right, carino. Yes, we will say no more about these things; it seems there is indeed no help in many words----Well, well, let us go in."
同父异母的弟弟打算和蒙泰尼里去“漫游瑞士”，杰姆斯·伯顿先生一点儿都不乐意。但是断然拒绝随同一位神学教授去旅行，增长对植物的认识，亚瑟会觉得没有道理，过于专横了。他可不知回绝这件事的理由。他会立即把这归结于宗教偏见或者种族偏见，而伯顿一家素以开明和忍让而自豪。
早在一个世纪以前，自从在伦敦和里窝那建立伯顿父子轮船公司以来，整个家族都是坚定不移的新教徒和保守派人物。但是他们认为甚至在和天主教徒打交道时，英国绅士也必须秉承公正的态度。因此当这家的主人发现鳏夫的生活乏味时，他就娶了教导自己小孩的那位家庭女教师，一位美貌的天主教徒。杰姆斯和托马斯这两个年长的儿子，虽然对比他们大不了多少的继母很反感，但还是含怒不语，顺从了天意。自从父亲死了以后，老大的婚姻使得原本就已难处的局面愈加复杂。但是只要格拉迪丝活着，弟兄俩都还尽量保护她，不让她受到朱丽亚那张毫不留情的嘴巴伤害，并且按照他们所理解的方式照顾亚瑟。他们甚至都不装出喜欢这位少年的样子，他们的慷慨主要表现在拿出大笔的零花钱，而且一切都听他自便。
因此在给亚瑟回信时，他们送了一张支票给他支付花销，并且冷言冷语地同意他在假期里愿做什么就做什么。他把剩下的钱一半用来购买植物学方面的书籍和标本夹，然后随同Padre动身，第一次去游历阿尔卑斯山。
蒙泰尼里心情愉快，亚瑟有很长一段时间没有看到他这样。那次在花园里谈过话，他头一次感到震惊不已，现在他已经逐渐地恢复了平稳的心境，并且更加坦然地看待那件事情。亚瑟还很年轻，没有什么经验；他的决定不大可能已经到了无法挽救的地步。当然还有时间把他争取回来，可以晓之以理，让他离开那条危险的道路，他还不算是已经踏上了那条道路。
他们原来打算在日内瓦待上几天，但是一看到白得刺眼的街道和尘土飞扬、游客如云的湖滨大道时，亚瑟就微微皱起了眉头。蒙泰尼里饶有兴趣地望着他。
“Carino，你不喜欢吗？”
“我说不上来。这与我所想的差距太远。是的，这湖很美，我喜欢那些山的形状。”他们正站在卢梭岛上，他指着萨瓦那边绵延不绝、形如刀削的群山。“但是那个市镇看上去那么拘谨，那么整齐，不知怎的——那么富有新教的气息。它有一种自满的氛围。不，我不喜欢这个地方，它让我想起了朱丽亚。”
蒙泰尼里哈哈大笑。“可怜的孩子，真是不幸之至！嗨，我们来这里可是自娱自乐，所以没有理由停下来。假定我们今天在湖中划船，明天早晨进山，你看呢？”
“但是，Padre，您想要待在这里吗？”
“我亲爱的孩子，所有这些地方我都看过十几次了。我来度假就是要看你玩得高兴。你愿意到哪里去呢？”
“如果您真的不在乎的话，我想溯河而上，探寻它的发源地。”
“罗纳河吗？”
“不，是奥尔韦河。河水流得多快啊。”
“那么我们就到夏蒙尼去吧。”
下午他们坐在一只小帆船里随波荡漾。美丽的湖泊给亚瑟留下的印象，远没有灰暗浑浊的奥尔韦河给他留下的印象深。他是在地中海边上长大的，已经看惯了碧波涟漪。但是他渴望见识一下湍急的河流，因而急流而下的冰河使他感到无比的喜悦。“真是势不可挡啊。”他说。
第二天早晨，他们早早地就动身前往夏蒙尼。乘车经过肥沃的山谷田野时，亚瑟兴致很高。但是当他们上了克鲁西附近的盘山道路，周围是陡峭的大山时，他变得非常严肃，一句话也不说。他们从圣马丁徒步走向山谷，在道旁的牧人小屋或小村里投宿，然后再次信步前行。亚瑟对自然景致的影响特别敏感，经过第一道瀑布时他流露出一种狂喜，那副模样看了真让人高兴。但是当他们走近雪峰时，他没了那股欣喜若狂的劲儿，转而变得如痴如醉。这情景蒙泰尼里以前没有看见过。仿佛他与大山之间存在着某种神秘的联系。他会一动也不动，躺在幽暗、隐秘、松涛呼啸的森林里，透过笔直而又高大的树干，望着那个阳光明媚的世界，那里有闪烁的雪峰和荒芜的悬崖。蒙泰尼里注视着他，带着一种伤感的嫉妒之情。
“我希望你能告诉我看到了什么，Carino。”有一天他这么说道。他从书上抬起头来，看见亚瑟舒展身体躺在苔藓上，姿势还是和一个小时前一样，瞪着一双眼睛，出神地望着光彩夺目的蓝天白云。他们离开了大路，到了迪奥萨兹瀑布附近一个宁静的村子里投宿。太阳低垂在无云的天空，此时已经挂在长满松树的山冈上，等着阿尔卑斯山的晚霞映红勃朗山大大小小的山峰。亚瑟抬起头来，眼里充满了惊叹和好奇。
“Padre，您是问我看到了什么吗？我看到了蓝天里有个巨大的白色之物，没有起始，也没有终结。我看到它经久历年地等在那里，等待着圣灵的到来。我是通过一个玻璃状物模模糊糊地看到它的。”
蒙泰尼里叹息了一声。
“从前我也看到这些东西。”
“您现到从来都看不到它们了吗？”
“从来也没有看到过。我再也不会看到它们了。它们就在那里，这我知道。但是我没有能够看到它们的慧眼。我看到的是截然不同的东西。”
“您看到了什么东西？”
“亲爱的，你是说我吗？我看到蔚蓝的天空，白雪皑皑的山峰——这就是我抬头仰望所看到的东西。但是在这下面，景物就不同了。”
他指着下面的山谷。亚瑟跪了下来，俯身探过陡峭的悬崖。高大的松树，在夜色渐浓的傍晚显得凝重，就像哨兵一样耸立在小河的两岸。红红的太阳犹如一块燃烧的煤，不一会儿就落到刀削斧劈的群山后面，所有的生命和光明全都远离了大自然的表层世界。随即就有某种黑暗和可怕的东西降临到了山谷——气势汹汹，张牙舞爪，全副武装，带着奇形怪状的武器。西边的群山光秃秃的，悬崖峭壁就像是怪兽的牙齿，伺机抓住一个可怜的家伙，并且把他拖进山谷深处。那里漆黑一片，森林发出低声的吼叫。松树是一排排的刀刃，轻声说道：“摔到我们这儿来吧！”在越来越为凝重的夜色之中，山泉奔腾呼啸，怀着满腔的绝望，疯狂地拍打着岩石建起的牢房。
“Padre！”亚瑟颤抖着站了起来，抽身离开了悬崖。“它就像是地狱！”
“不，我的孩子。”蒙泰尼里缓缓地说道，“它只像是一个人的灵魂。”
“就是那些坐在黑暗和死亡的阴影之中的灵魂？”
“是那些每天在街上经过你身边的灵魂。”
亚瑟俯身望着那些阴影，浑身抖个不停。一层暗淡的白雾悬挂在松树之间，无力地抓着汹涌澎湃的山泉，就像是一个可怜的幽灵，无法给予任何的安慰。
“瞧！”亚瑟突然说道。“走在黑暗里的人们看见了一道巨大的光亮。”
东边的雪峰在夕阳的反射下被映得通亮。在那道红光从山顶上消失以后，蒙泰尼里转过身来，轻轻地拍了一下亚瑟的肩膀。
“回去吧，亲爱的。天都暗下来了。如果我们再待在这里，我们就得在暗中走路，并会迷失方向的。”
“就像是一具僵尸。”亚瑟说道。他已转过身来，不再去看在暮色之中闪耀的偌大山峰那副狰狞的面目。
他们穿过黑漆漆的树林，前往他们投宿的牧人小屋。
亚瑟正坐在屋里的餐桌边等着。当蒙泰尼里走进去的时候，他看见这个小伙子已从阴暗的幻梦中摆脱了出来，完全变成了另外一个人。
“噢，Padre，快来看看这只滑稽的小狗！它能踮起后腿跳舞呢。”
他忘情地望着小狗，并且逗它表演，就像他沉湎于落日的余辉之中一样。这家女主人的脸红扑扑的，身上系着围巾，粗壮的胳膊叉在腰间。她站在一旁，笑盈盈地望着他扯着小狗玩耍。“如果他老是这样，别人会说他无忧无虑。”她用方言对她女儿说道，“这小伙子长得真帅！”
亚瑟脸红了起来，就像是一个上学的女孩子。那个女人这才明白他听懂了她的话，看着他发窘的样子她赶紧走开。吃晚饭的时候，他什么也不说，只是谈论短途旅行、登山和采集植物标本的计划。他那些梦呓般的幻想显然没有妨碍他的情绪和胃口。
当蒙泰尼里在第二天醒来的时候，亚瑟已经不见了。天亮之前，他就去了山上的牧场，“帮着嘉斯帕赶羊”。
没过多久早饭就摆到了桌上，可在这时他一溜小跑奔进屋里。头上没戴帽子，肩上扛着一个三岁大的农村女孩，手中拿着一大把野花。
蒙泰尼里抬起头来，笑容满面。亚瑟在比萨和里窝那时不苟言笑，现在这副模样与那时判若两人，真有意思。
“你这个疯疯癫癫的家伙，你野到哪儿去了？满山遍野地乱跑，连早饭都不吃了？”
“噢，Padre，太有意思了！日出的时候，群山真是蔚为壮观。露水可重了！您瞅瞅！”
他抬起一只靴子，上面湿漉漉的，沾满了泥巴。
“我们带了一些面包和奶酪，又在牧场弄了一些牛奶。噢，那才叫棒呢！可我这会儿又饿了，我还想给这个小家伙一点东西吃。安妮塔，吃点蜂蜜好吗？”
他坐了下来，并把那个孩子放在膝上，然后帮她把鲜花摆好。
“不，不！”蒙泰尼里插嘴说道，“我可不能看你着凉。快去换下湿衣服。过来，安妮塔。你是在哪儿把她给弄来的？”
“是在村头。她的父亲我们昨天见到过的——就是村子的鞋匠。您瞧她的眼睛多美！她的兜里装着一个乌龟，她管它叫‘卡罗琳’。”
当亚瑟换完衣服回来吃饭时，他看见孩子就坐在Padre的膝上，正在津津乐道地对他说起她的那只乌龟。胖胖的小手托着四脚朝天的乌龟，为了好让“先生”欣赏蹬个没完没了的小脚。
“瞧啊，先生！”她用半懂不懂的方言严肃地说道，“瞧瞧卡罗琳的靴子！”
蒙泰尼里坐在那儿逗着孩子玩，抚摸着她的头发，赞美着她的宝贝乌龟，并给她讲着美妙的故事。那家的女主人进来准备收拾桌子，望着安妮塔乱翻这位一脸严肃、教士装束的绅士口袋，她吃了一惊。
“上帝教导小孩子家辨别好人。”她说道，“安妮塔总是怕和生人打交道。您瞧，她见着教士一点也不扭扭捏捏的。真是怪极了！跪下来，安妮塔，快请这位好先生在走前为你祈福，这会给你带来好运的。”
“我不知道您能这么逗着孩子玩，Padre。”一个小时以后，在他们走过阳光明媚的牧场时亚瑟说道。“那个孩子老是看着您。您知道，我想——”
“你想什么？”
“我只是想说——在我看来，教会禁止神职人员结婚几乎是一件憾事。我不大明白这是为什么。您知道，教育孩子是一件极其严肃的事情，对他们来说从一开始就受到良好的熏陶格外重要，所以我认为一个人的职业越高尚，他的生活越纯洁，他就越适合担起父亲的职责。我确信，Padre，如果您不是起过誓，终生不娶——如果您结了婚，那么您的孩子就会很——”
“嘘！”
这一声来得如此突然，以至于随后的寂静显得格外的深沉。
“Padre。”亚瑟再次开口说道。看到对方表情阴郁，他的心中很苦恼。“您认为我说的话有什么不对之处吗？当然我可能说错了，但是我只能认为我是自然而然就想到这件事的。”
“也许，”蒙泰尼里轻声地答道，“你并不十分明白你刚才所说的话是什么意思。再过几年，也许你会改变你的想法。在此期间，我们最好还是谈点别的什么东西吧。”
在这次假日旅行中，他们一直处得非常融洽和谐，这是他们第一次闹了别扭。
他们从夏蒙尼途经泰特努瓦山到了马尔提尼，然后在那里歇脚休息，因为天气热得让人喘不过气来。吃完饭以后，他们坐在旅馆的阳台上。这里晒不到太阳，而且还可以一览群山的景致。亚瑟拿出了他的标本盒，并用意大利语和蒙泰尼里认真地讨论植物学。
两位英国画家正坐在阳台上，一个在写生，另一个在懒洋洋地说着话儿。他没有想到这两位陌生人能够听懂英语。
“你就别在那儿乱画什么风景了，威利。”他说，“你就画画那个妙龄的意大利男孩吧，他正在神魂颠倒地捣鼓那几片羊齿叶呢。你看看他那个眉毛的线条！你只需要把放大镜换成十字架，再把上衣和灯笼裤换成罗马式的宽袍，然后你就能画出一个形神兼备的早期基督徒来。”
“去你的早期基督徒吧！我在吃饭的时候就和那个小伙子坐在一起，他对那只烤鸡和对这些野草一样着迷。他是够漂亮的，橄榄色的肤色确实很美，但是远远没有他的父亲上画。”
“他的——谁啊？”
“他的父亲啊，就是坐在你前面的那位。这么说你是把他给忽略了？那张脸才叫精彩绝伦呢。”
“你这个循规蹈短的卫理公会教徒真是个死脑瓜子！碰上一个天主教的教士你都认不出来吗？”
“教士？我的天啊，他原来竟是教士！对了，我忘了这碴儿了。他们要发誓永保处子之身，诸如此类的名堂。那好吧，我们就行行善事，假定那个男孩是他的侄子。”
“这些人真是愚不可及！”亚瑟小声地说道，两只眼睛扑闪着乱转。“可是，多承他们的美意，认为我长得像您。我希望我真的是您的侄子——Padre，怎么啦？您的脸色可真白啊！”
蒙泰尼里站起身来，一只手扶着前额。“我有点头晕。”他说，奇怪的是他的声音很弱，无精打采。“也许今天上午我待在太阳底下的时间太长了。我要去躺一会儿，亲爱的。没什么，只是天气太热了。”
在吕森湖畔逗留了两个星期以后，亚瑟和蒙泰尼里经过圣·戈塔尔山口回到了意大利。值得庆幸的是天气一直不错，而且他们还作了几次愉快的徒步旅行。但是最初的那种欢愉已经荡然无存。蒙泰尼里老是忐忑不安，想着安排一次“更加正式的谈话”，这次假期就是进行这种谈话的机会。在安尔维山谷，他尽力避免提到他们在木兰树下所谈的话题。他认为亚瑟是个具有艺术气质的人，进行这样的谈话会破坏阿尔卑斯山的景致所带来的那种喜悦的心情，而这次谈话肯定是痛苦的。从在马尔提尼的那天起，他每天早晨都对自己说：“我今天就说。”每天晚上他对自己说：“明天吧，明天吧。”一种无法言喻的冷酷之感使他难以启齿，从来没有这种感觉，这种感觉就像是一张无形的薄纱落在他和亚瑟之间。直到最后的那天晚上，他才突然意识到如果要说的话，他必须现在就说。他们那天晚上是在卢加诺过夜，准备第二天上午返回比萨。至少，他会发现他的宝贝疙瘩陷进性命攸关的意大利政治漩涡有多深。
“雨已经停了，亲爱的。”他在日落以后说道，“这是我们赏湖的唯一机会。来吧，我想和你谈谈。”
他们沿着湖边走到一处僻静的地方，坐在一段低矮的石头墙上。紧挨着他们的旁边长着一丛玫瑰，上面结着猩红的果子。一两簇迟开的乳白色花儿仍然挂在高处的一根花茎上，带着沉重的雨滴在凄凉地摆动。在碧绿的湖面上，一只小船在裹着露水的微风中荡漾，白色的风帆无力地抖动。小船显得轻盈柔弱，就像是一束银白色的蒲公英被扔到了水上。高处的萨尔佛多山上，某个牧人小屋的窗户敞开着，就像是一只金黄色的眼睛。玫瑰花垂下头来，在九月里悠闲的白云下浮想连翩。湖水拍打着岸边的鹅卵石，发出喃喃的低语。
“在很长的一段时间里，唯有这次机会我才能和你平心静气地谈一谈。”蒙泰尼里开口说道，“你将会回去上学，回到你的那些朋友那里。我呢，在今年冬天也会很忙。我想要清楚地了解一下我们应该如何相处。所以，如果你——”他停顿了片刻，然后接着说了下去，说得更慢。“如果你觉得你还能像过去那样信任我，我想让你告诉我，比在神学院花园的那天晚上更加明确，你在那条路上走了多远。”
亚瑟望着湖的那边，静静地听着，一句话也没有说。
“我想知道，如果你告诉我的话，”蒙泰尼里接着说道，“你是否受到誓言的约束，或者——别的什么。”
“没有什么好说的，亲爱的Padre。我并没有约束我自己，但是我确是受到了约束。”
“我不明白——”
“誓言有什么甩？誓言约束不了人。如果你对一件事情有了某种体会，那就会约束你。如果你没有某种体会，什么也不会约束你。”
“那么，你是说这件事情——这种——体会是不可改变的吗？亚瑟，你想过你在说些什么吗？”
亚瑟转过身来，直盯着蒙泰尼里的眼睛。
“Padre，您问我能否信任您。您就不能信任我吗？如果有什么好说的，我肯定会告诉您的。但是谈论这些事件是没有用的。我还没有忘记您在那天晚上对我讲过的话。我永远也忘记不了。但是我必须走我自己的路，跟随着我所看见的那片光明。”
蒙泰尼里从花丛中摘下一朵玫瑰，一片接着一片地扯下花瓣，并把花瓣扔进水里。
“你说得对，亲爱的。好吧，这些事情我们就谈到这里。看来长篇大论也没有什么用的——呃，呃，我们进去吧。”
收听单词发音 |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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prohibition
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| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
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tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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12
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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promenades
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| n.人行道( promenade的名词复数 )；散步场所；闲逛v.兜风( promenade的第三人称单数 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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glacier
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| n.冰川，冰河 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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dilated
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| 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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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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32
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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shuddering
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| 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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37
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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eastwards
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| adj.向东方（的），朝东（的）；n.向东的方向 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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43
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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44
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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45
patois
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| n.方言；混合语 | |
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46
ascents
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| n.上升( ascent的名词复数 )；（身份、地位等的）提高；上坡路；攀登 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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reverence
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| 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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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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stiflingly
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| adv. 令人窒息地(气闷地，沉闷地) | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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binds
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| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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