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簡愛CHAPTER XXXII

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CHAPTER XXXII   
 

I CONTINUED the labours of the village-school as actively and faithfully as I could. It was truly hard work at first. Some time elapsed before, with all my efforts, I could comprehend my scholars and their nature. Wholly untaught, with faculties quite torpid, they seemed to me hopelessly dull; and, at first sight, all dull alike: but I soon found I was mistaken. There was a difference amongst them as amongst the educated; and when I got to know them, and they me, this difference rapidly developed itself. Their amazement at me, my language, my rules, and ways, once subsided, I found some of these heavy-looking, gaping rustics wake up into sharp-witted girls enough. Many showed themselves obliging, and amiable too; and I discovered amongst them not a few examples of natural politeness, and innate self-respect, as well as of excellent capacity, that won both my good-will and my admiration. These soon took a pleasure in doing their work well, in keeping their persons neat, in learning their tasks regularly, in acquiring quiet and orderly manners. The rapidity of their progress, in some instances, was even surprising; and an honest and happy pride I took in it: besides, I began  personally to like some of the best girls; and they liked me. I had amongst my scholars several farmers' daughters: young women grown, almost. These could already read, write, and sew; and to them I taught the elements of grammar, geography, history, and the finer kinds of needlework. I found estimable characters amongst them- characters desirous of information and disposed for improvement- with whom I passed many a pleasant evening hour in their own homes. Their parents then (the farmer and his wife) loaded me with attentions.
There was an enjoyment in accepting their simple kindness, and in repaying it by a consideration- a scrupulous regard to their feelings- to which they were not, perhaps, at all times accustomed, and which both charmed and benefited them; because, while it elevated them in their own eyes, it made them emulous to merit the deferential treatment they received.

I felt I became a favourite in the neighbourhood. Whenever I went out, I heard on all sides cordial salutations, and was welcomed with friendly smiles. To live amidst general regard, though it be but the regard of working people, is like 'sitting in sunshine, calm and sweet'; serene inward feelings bud and bloom under the ray. At this period of my life, my heart far oftener swelled with thankfulness than sank with dejection: and yet, reader, to tell you all, in the midst of this calm, this useful existence- after a day passed in honourable exertion amongst my scholars, an evening spent in drawing or reading contentedly alone- I used to rush into strange dreams at night: dreams many-coloured, agitated, full of the ideal, the stirring, the stormy- dreams where, amidst unusual scenes, charged with adventure, with agitating risk and romantic chance, I still again and again met Mr. Rochester, always at some exciting crisis; and then the sense of being in his arms, hearing his voice, meeting his eye, touching his hand and cheek, loving him, being loved by him- the hope of passing a lifetime at his side, would be renewed, with all its first force and fire. Then I awoke. Then I recalled where I was, and how situated.

Then I rose up on my curtainless bed, trembling and quivering; and then the still, dark night witnessed the convulsion of despair, and heard the burst of passion. By nine o'clock the next morning I was punctually opening the school; tranquil, settled, prepared for the steady duties of the day.

Rosamond Oliver kept her word in coming to visit me. Her call at the school was generally made in the course of her morning ride. She would canter up to the door on her pony, followed by a mounted livery servant. Anything more exquisite than her appearance, in her purple habit, with her Amazon's cap of black velvet placed gracefully above the long curls that kissed her cheek and floated to her shoulders, can scarcely be imagined: and it was thus she would enter the rustic building, and glide through the dazzled ranks of the village children. She generally came at the hour when Mr. Rivers was engaged in giving his daily catechising lesson. Keenly, I fear, did the eye of the visitress pierce the young pastor's heart. A sort of instinct seemed to warn him of her entrance, even when he did not see it; and when he was looking quite away from the door, if she appeared at it, his cheek would glow, and his marble-seeming features, though they refused to relax, changed indescribably, and in their very quiescence became expressive of a repressed fervour, stronger than working muscle or darting glance could indicate.

Of course, she knew her power: indeed, he did not, because he could not, conceal it from her. In spite of his Christian stoicism, when she went up and addressed him, and smiled gaily, encouragingly, even fondly in his face, his hand would tremble and his eye burn. He seemed to say, with his sad and resolute look, if he did not say it with his lips, 'I love you, and I know you prefer me. It is not despair of success that keeps me dumb. If I offered my heart, I believe you would accept it. But that heart is already laid on a sacred altar: the fire is arranged round it. It will soon be no more than a sacrifice consumed.'

And then she would pout like a disappointed child; a pensive cloud would soften her radiant vivacity; she would withdraw her hand hastily from his, and turn in transient petulance from his aspect, at once so heroic and so martyr-like. St. John, no doubt, would have given the world to follow, recall, retain her, when she thus left him; but he would not give one chance of heaven, nor relinquish, for the elysium of her love, one hope of the true, eternal Paradise.

Besides, he could not bind all that he had in his nature- the rover, the aspirant, the poet, the priest- in the limits of a single passion.

He could not- he would not- renounce his wild field of mission warfare for the parlours and the peace of Vale Hall. I learnt so much from himself in an inroad I once, despite his reserve, had the daring to make on his confidence.

Miss Oliver already honoured me with frequent visits to my cottage.

I had learnt her whole character, which was without mystery or disguise: she was coquettish, but not heartless; exacting, but not worthlessly selfish. She had been indulged from her birth, but was not absolutely spoilt. She was hasty, but good-humoured; vain (she could not help it, when every glance in the glass showed her such a flush of loveliness), but not affected; liberal-handed; innocent of the pride of wealth; ingenuous; sufficiently intelligent; gay, lively, and unthinking: she was very charming, in short, even to a cool observer of her own sex like me; but she was not profoundly interesting or thoroughly impressive. A very different sort of mind was hers from that, for instance, of the sisters of St. John. Still, I liked her almost as I liked my pupil Adele; except that, for a child whom we have watched over and taught, a closer affection is engendered than we can give an equally attractive adult acquaintance.

She had taken an amiable caprice to me. She said I was like Mr. Rivers, only, certainly, she allowed, 'not one-tenth so handsome, though I was a nice neat little soul enough, but he was an angel.' I was, however, good, clever, composed, and firm, like him. I was a lusus naturae, she affirmed, as a village schoolmistress: she was sure my previous history, if known, would make a delightful romance.

One evening, while, with her usual child-like activity, and thoughtless yet not offensive inquisitiveness, she was rummaging the cupboard and the table-drawer of my little kitchen, she discovered first two French books, a volume of Schiller, a German grammar and dictionary, and then my drawing-materials and some sketches, including a pencil-head of a pretty little cherub-like girl, one of my scholars, and sundry views from nature, taken in the Vale of Morton and on the surrounding moors. She was first transfixed with surprise, and then electrified with delight.

'Had I done these pictures? Did I know French and German? What a love- what a miracle I was! I drew better than her master in the first 'With pleasure,' I replied; and I felt a thrill of artist-delight at the idea of copying from so perfect and radiant a model. She had then on a dark-blue silk dress; her arms and her neck were bare; her only ornament was her chestnut tresses, which waved over her shoulders with all the wild grace of natural curls. I took a sheet of fine card-board, and drew a careful outline. I promised myself the pleasure of colouring it; and, as it was getting late then, I told her she must come and sit another day.

She made such a report of me to her father, that Mr. Oliver himself accompanied her next evening- a tall, massive-featured, middle-aged, and grey-headed man, at whose side his lovely daughter looked like a bright flower near a hoary turret. He appeared a taciturn, and perhaps a proud personage; but he was very kind to me. The sketch of Rosamond's portrait pleased him highly: he said I must make a finished picture of it. He insisted, too, on my coming the next day to spend the evening at Vale Hall.

I went. I found it a large, handsome residence, showing abundant evidences of wealth in the proprietor. Rosamond was full of glee and pleasure all the time I stayed. Her father was affable; and when he entered into conversation with me after tea, he expressed in strong terms his approbation of what I had done in Morton school, and said he only feared, from what he saw and heard, I was too good for the place, and would soon quit it for one more suitable.

'Indeed,' cried Rosamond, 'she is clever enough to be a governess in a high family, papa.'

I thought I would far rather be where I am than in any high family in the land. Mr. Oliver spoke of Mr. Rivers- of the Rivers family- with great respect. He said it was a very old name in that neighbourhood; that the ancestors of the house were wealthy; that all Morton had once belonged to them; that even now he considered the representative of that house might, if he liked, make an alliance with the best. He accounted it a pity that so fine and talented a young man should have formed the design of going out as a missionary; it was quite throwing a valuable life away. It appeared, then, that her father would throw no obstacle in the way of Rosamond's union with St. John. Mr. Oliver evidently regarded the young clergyman's good birth, old name, and sacred profession as sufficient compensation for the want of fortune.

It was the 5th of November, and a holiday. My little servant, after helping me to clean my house, was gone, well satisfied with the fee of a penny for her aid. All about me was spotless and bright- scoured floor, polished grate, and well-rubbed chairs. I had also made myself neat, and had now the afternoon before me to spend as I would.

The translation of a few pages of German occupied an hour; then I got my palette and pencils, and fell to the more soothing, because easier occupation, of completing Rosamond Oliver's miniature. The head was finished already: there was but the background to tint and the drapery to shade off; a touch of carmine, too, to add to the ripe lips- a soft curl here and there to the tresses- a deeper tinge to the shadow of the lash under the azured eyelid. I was absorbed in the execution of these nice details, when, after one rapid tap, my door unclosed, admitting St. John Rivers.

'I am come to see how you are spending your holiday,' he said.

'Not, I hope, in thought? No, that is well: while you draw you will not feel lonely. You see, I mistrust you still, though you have borne up wonderfully so far. I have brought you a book for evening solace,' and he laid on the table a new publication- a poem: one of those genuine productions so often vouchsafed to the fortunate public of those days- the golden age of modern literature. Alas! the readers of our era are less favoured. But courage! I will not pause either to accuse or repine. I know poetry is not dead, nor genius lost; nor has Mammon gained power over either, to bind or slay: they will both assert their existence, their presence, their liberty and strength again one day. Powerful angels, safe in heaven! they smile when sordid souls triumph, and feeble ones weep over their destruction. Poetry destroyed? Genius banished? No! Mediocrity, no: do not let envy prompt you to the thought. No; they not only live, but reign and redeem: and without their divine influence spread everywhere, you would be in hell- the hell of your own meanness.

While I was eagerly glancing at the bright pages of Marmion (for Marmion it was), St. John stooped to examine my drawing. His tall figure sprang erect again with a start: he said nothing. I looked up at him: he shunned my eye. I knew his thoughts well, and could read his heart plainly; at the moment I felt calmer and cooler than he: I had then temporarily the advantage of him, and I conceived an inclination to do him some good, if I could.

'With all his firmness and self-control,' thought I, 'he tasks himself too far: locks every feeling and pang within- expresses, confesses, imparts nothing. I am sure it would benefit him to talk a little about this sweet Rosamond, whom he thinks he ought not to marry: I will make him talk.'

I said first, 'Take a chair, Mr. Rivers.' But he answered, as he always did, that he could not stay. 'Very well,' I responded, mentally, 'stand if you like; but you shall not go just yet, I am determined: solitude is at least as bad for you as it is for me.

I'll try if I cannot discover the secret spring of your confidence, and find an aperture in that marble breast through which I can shed one drop of the balm of sympathy.'

'Is this portrait like?' I asked bluntly.

'Like! Like whom? I did not observe it closely.'

'You did, Mr. Rivers.'

He almost started at my sudden and strange abruptness: he looked at me astonished. 'Oh, that is nothing yet,' I muttered within. 'I don't mean to be baffled by a little stiffness on your part; I'm prepared to go to considerable lengths.' I continued, 'You observed it closely and distinctly; but I have no objection to your looking at it again,' and I rose and placed it in his hand.

'A well-executed picture,' he said; 'very soft, clear colouring; very graceful and correct drawing.'

'Yes, yes; I know all that. But what of the resemblance? Who is it like?'

Mastering some hesitation, he answered, 'Miss Oliver, I presume.'

'Of course. And now, sir, to reward you for the accurate guess, I will promise to paint you a careful and faithful duplicate of this very picture, provided you admit that the gift would be acceptable to you. I don't wish to throw away my time and trouble on an offering you would deem worthless.'

He continued to gaze at the picture: the longer he looked, the firmer he held it, the more he seemed to covet it. 'It is like!' he murmured; 'the eye is well managed: the colour, light, expression, are perfect. It smiles!'

'Would it comfort, or would it wound you to have a similar painting? Tell me that. When you are at Madagascar, or at the Cape, or in India, would it be a consolation to have that memento in your possession? or would the sight of it bring recollections calculated to enervate and distress?'

He now furtively raised his eyes: he glanced at me, irresolute, disturbed: he again surveyed the picture.

'That I should like to have it is certain: whether it would be judicious or wise is another question.'

Since I had ascertained that Rosamond really preferred him, and that her father was not likely to oppose the match, I- less exalted in my views than St. John- had been strongly disposed in my own heart to advocate their union. It seemed to me that, should he become the possessor of Mr. Oliver's large fortune, he might do as much good with  it as if he went and laid his genius out to wither, and his strength to waste, under a tropical sun. With this persuasion I now answered-

'As far as I can see, it would be wiser and more judicious if you were to take to yourself the original at once.'

By this time he had sat down: he had laid the picture on the table before him, and with his brow supported on both hands, hung fondly over it. I discerned he was now neither angry nor shocked at my audacity. I saw even that to be thus frankly addressed on a subject he had deemed unapproachable- to hear it thus freely handled- was beginning to be felt by him as a new pleasure- an unhoped-for relief. Reserved people often really need the frank discussion of their sentiments and griefs more than the expansive. The sternest-seeming stoic is human after all; and to 'burst' with boldness and good-will into 'the silent sea' of their souls is often to confer on them the first of obligations.

'She likes you, I am sure,' said I, as I stood behind his chair, 'and her father respects you. Moreover, she is a sweet girl- rather thoughtless; but you would have sufficient thought for both yourself and her. You ought to marry her.'

'Does she like me?' he asked.

'Certainly; better than she likes any one else. She talks of you continually: there is no subject she enjoys so much or touches upon so often.'

'It is very pleasant to hear this,' he said- 'very: go on for another quarter of an hour.' And he actually took out his watch and laid it upon the table to measure the time.

'But where is the use of going on,' I asked, 'when you are probably preparing some iron blow of contradiction, or forging a fresh chain to fetter your heart?'

'Don't imagine such hard things. Fancy me yielding and melting, as I am doing: human love rising like a freshly opened fountain in my mind and overflowing with sweet inundation all the field I have so carefully and with such labour prepared- so assiduously sown with the seeds of good intentions, of self-denying plans. And now it is deluged with a nectarous flood- the young germs swamped- delicious poison cankering them: now I see myself stretched on an ottoman in the drawing-room at Vale Hall at my bride Rosamond Oliver's feet: she is talking to me with her sweet voice- gazing down on me with those eyes your skilful hand has copied so well- smiling at me with these coral lips. She is mine- I am hers- this present life and passing world suffice to me. Hush! say nothing- my heart is full of delight- my senses are entranced- let the time I marked pass in peace.'

I humoured him: the watch ticked on: he breathed fast and low: I stood silent. Amidst this hush the quarter sped; he replaced the watch, laid the picture down, rose, and stood on the hearth.

'Now,' said he, 'that little space was given to delirium and delusion. I rested my temples on the breast of temptation, and put my neck voluntarily under her yoke of flowers; I tasted her cup. The pillow was burning: there is an asp in the garland: the wine has a bitter taste: her promises are hollow- her offers false: I see and know all this.'

I gazed at him in wonder.

'It is strange,' pursued he, 'that while I love Rosamond Oliver so wildly- with all the intensity, indeed, of a first passion, the object of which is exquisitely beautiful, graceful, and fascinating- I experience at the same time a calm, unwarped consciousness that she would not make me a good wife; that she is not the partner suited to me; that I should discover this within a year after marriage; and that to twelve months' rapture would succeed a lifetime of regret. This I know.'

'Strange indeed!' I could not help ejaculating.

'While something in me,' he went on, 'is acutely sensible to her charms, something else is as deeply impressed with her defects: they are such that she could sympathise in nothing I aspired to- co-operate in nothing I undertook. Rosamond a sufferer, a labourer, a female apostle? Rosamond a missionary's wife? No!'

'But you need not be a missionary. You might relinquish that scheme.'

'Relinquish! What! my vocation? My great work? My foundation laid on earth for a mansion in heaven? My hopes of being numbered in the band who have merged all ambitions in the glorious one of bettering their race- of carrying knowledge into the realms of ignorance- of substituting peace for war- freedom for bondage- religion for superstition- the hope of heaven for the fear of hell? Must I relinquish that? It is dearer than the blood in my veins. It is what I have to look forward to, and to live for.'

After a considerable pause, I said- 'And Miss Oliver? Are her disappointment and sorrow of no interest to you?'

'Miss Oliver is ever surrounded by suitors and flatterers: in less than a month, my image will be effaced from her heart. She will forget me; and will marry, probably, some one who will make her far happier than I should do.'

'You speak coolly enough; but you suffer in the conflict. You are wasting away.'

'No. If I get a little thin, it is with anxiety about my prospects, yet unsettled- my departure, continually procrastinated. Only this morning, I received intelligence that the successor, whose arrival I have been so long expecting, cannot be ready to replace me for three months to come yet; and perhaps the three months may extend to six.'

'You tremble and become flushed whenever Miss Oliver enters the schoolroom.'

Again the surprised expression crossed his face. He had not imagined that a woman would dare to speak so to a man. For me, I felt at home in this sort of discourse. I could never rest in communication with strong, discreet, and refined minds, whether male or female, till I had passed the outworks of conventional reserve, and crossed the threshold of confidence, and won a place by their heart's very hearthstone.

'You are original,' said he, 'and not timid. There is something brave in your spirit, as well as penetrating in your eye; but allow me to assure you that you partially misinterpret my emotions. You think them more profound and potent than they are. You give me a larger allowance of sympathy than I have a just claim to. When I colour, and when I shake before Miss Oliver, I do not pity myself. I scorn the weakness. I know it is ignoble: a mere fever of the flesh: not, I declare, the convulsion of the soul. That is just as fixed as a rock, firm set in the depths of a restless sea. Know me to be what I am- a cold, hard man.'

I smiled incredulously.

'You have taken my confidence by storm,' he continued, 'and now it is much at your service. I am simply, in my original state-

stripped of that blood-bleached robe with which Christianity covers human deformity- a cold, hard, ambitious man. Natural affection only, of all the sentiments, has permanent power over me. Reason, and not feeling, is my guide; my ambition is unlimited: my desire to rise higher, to do more than others, insatiable. I honour endurance, perseverance, industry, talent; because these are the means by which men achieve great ends and mount to lofty eminence. I watch your career with interest, because I consider you a specimen of a  diligent, orderly, energetic woman: not because I deeply compassionate what you have gone through, or what you still suffer.'

'You would describe yourself as a mere pagan philosopher,' I said.

'No. There is this difference between me and deistic philosophers: I believe; and I believe the Gospel. You missed your epithet. I am not a pagan, but a Christian philosopher- a follower of the sect of Jesus. As His disciple I adopt His pure, His merciful, His benignant doctrines. I advocate them: I am sworn to spread them. Won in youth to religion, she has cultivated my original qualities thus:- From the minute germ, natural affection, she has developed the overshadowing tree, philanthropy. From the wild stringy root of human uprightness, she has reared a due sense of the Divine justice. Of the ambition to win power and renown for my wretched self, she has formed the ambition to spread my Master's kingdom; to achieve victories for the standard of the cross. So much has religion done for me; turning the original materials to the best account; pruning and training nature. But she could not eradicate nature: nor will it be eradicated "till this mortal shall put on immortality."'

Having said this, he took his hat, which lay on the table beside my palette. Once more he looked at the portrait.

'She is lovely,' he murmured. 'She is well named the Rose of the World, indeed!'

'And may I not paint one like it for you?'

'Cui bono? No.'

He drew over the picture the sheet of thin paper on which I was accustomed to rest my hand in painting, to prevent the card-board from being sullied. What he suddenly saw on this blank paper, it was impossible for me to tell; but something had caught his eye. He took it up with a snatch; he looked at the edge; then shot a glance at me, inexpressibly peculiar, and quite incomprehensible: a glance that seemed to take and make note of every point in my shape, face, and dress; for it traversed all, quick, keen as lightning. His lips parted, as if to speak: but he checked the coming sentence, whatever it was.

'What is the matter?' I asked.

'Nothing in the world,' was the reply; and, replacing the paper, I saw him dexterously tear a narrow slip from the margin. It disappeared in his glove; and, with one hasty nod and 'good-afternoon,' he vanished.

'Well!' I exclaimed, using an expression of the district, 'that caps the globe, however!'

I, in my turn, scrutinised the paper; but saw nothing on it save a few dingy stains of paint where I had tried the tint in my pencil. I pondered the mystery a minute or two; but finding it insolvable, and being certain it could not be of much moment, I dismissed, and soon forgot it.
 


 

簡 愛

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第三十二章
 

 
 
我繼續(xù)為積極辦好鄉(xiāng)村學校盡心盡力。起初確實困難重重。盡管我使出渾身解數(shù),還是過了一段時間才了解我的學生和她們的天性。她們完全沒有受過教育,官能都很遲鈍,使我覺得這些人笨得無可救藥。粗粗一看,個個都是呆頭呆腦的,但不久我便發(fā)現(xiàn)自己錯了。就像受過教育的人之間是有區(qū)別的一樣,她們之間也有區(qū)別。我了解她們,她們也了解我之后,這種區(qū)別很快便不知不覺地擴大了。一旦她們對我的語言、習慣和生活方式不再感到驚訝,我便發(fā)現(xiàn)一些神態(tài)呆滯、目光遲鈍的鄉(xiāng)巴佬,蛻變成了頭腦機靈的姑娘。很多人親切可愛很有禮貌。我發(fā)現(xiàn)她們中間不少人天性就懂禮貌,自尊自愛,很有能力,贏得了我的好感和敬佩。這些人不久便很樂意把工作做好,保持自身整潔,按時做功課,養(yǎng)成斯斯文文有條有理的習慣。在某些方面,她們進步之快甚至令人吃驚,我真誠愉快地為此感到驕傲。另外,我本人也開始喜歡上幾位最好的姑娘,她們也喜歡我。學生中有幾個農(nóng)夫的女兒,差不多已經(jīng)長成了少女。她們已經(jīng)會讀,會寫,會縫,于是我就教她們語法、地理和歷史的基本知識,以及更精細的針線活。我還在她們中間發(fā)現(xiàn)了幾位可貴的人物一一這些人渴求知識,希望上進——我在她們家里一起度過了不少愉快的夜晚。而她們的父母(農(nóng)夫和妻子)對我很殷勤。我樂于接受他們純樸的善意,并以尊重他們的情感來作為回報一—對此他們不一定會隨時都感到習慣,但這既讓她們著迷,也對他們有益,因為他們眼看自己提高了地位,并渴望無愧于所受到的厚待。

我覺得自己成了附近地區(qū)的寵兒。無論什么時候出門,我都會處處聽到親切的招呼,受到滿臉笑容的歡迎。生活在眾人的關心之,即便是勞動者的關心,也如同“坐在陽光下,既寧靜又舒心”。內(nèi)心的恬靜感覺開始萌芽,并在陽光下開放出花朵。在這段時間的生活中,我的心常常涌起感激之情,而沒有頹唐沮喪。可是,讀者呀,讓我全都告訴你吧,在平靜而充實的生活中——白天為學生作出了高尚的努力,晚上心滿意足地獨自作畫和讀書——之后我常常匆匆忙忙地進入了夜間奇異的夢境,多姿多彩的夢,有騷動不安的、充滿理想的、激動人心的,也有急風驟雨式的——這些夢有著千奇百怪的場景,充滿冒險的經(jīng)歷,揪心的險情和浪漫的機遇。夢中我依舊一次次遇見羅切斯特先生,往往是在激動人心的關鍵時刻。隨后我感到投入了他的懷抱,聽見了他的聲音,遇見了他的目光,碰到了他的手和臉頰,愛他而又被他所愛。于是重又燃起在他身邊度過一生的希望,像當初那么強烈,那么火熱,隨后我醒了過來。于是我想起了自己身在何處,處境如何。接著我顫顫巍巍地從沒有帳幔的床上爬起來。沉沉黑夜目睹了我絕望的痙攣,聽見了我怒火的爆發(fā)。到了第二天早上九點,我按時開學,平心靜氣地為一天的例行公事作好準備。

羅莎蒙德.奧利弗守信來看我。她一般是在早上遛馬時到學校里來的,騎著她的小馬慢跑到門口,后面跟了一位騎馬的隨從。她穿了一套紫色的騎裝,戴一頂亞馬遜式黑絲絨帽,很有風度地戴在從臉頰一直披到肩的卷發(fā)上,很難想象世上還有比她的外貌更標致的東西了。于是她會走進土里土氣的房子,穿過被弄得眼花繚亂的鄉(xiāng)村孩子的隊伍。她總是在里弗斯先主上教義回答課時到。我猜想這位女來訪者的目光,銳利地穿透了年青牧師的心。一種直覺向他提醒她已經(jīng)進來了,即使他沒有看到,或者視線正好從門口轉開時也是如此。而要是她出現(xiàn)在門口,他的臉會灼灼生光,他那大理石一般的五官盡管拒不松弛,但難以形容地變了形。恬靜中流露出一種受壓抑的熱情,要比肌肉的活動和目光的顧盼所顯現(xiàn)的強烈得多。

當然她知道自己的魅力。其實他倒沒有在她面前掩飾自己所感受到的魅力,因為他無法掩飾。雖然他信奉基督教禁欲主義,但她走近他,同他說話,對著他興高彩烈、滿含鼓勵乃至多情地笑起來時,他的手會顫抖起來,他的眼睛會燃燒起來。他似乎不是用嘴巴,而是用哀傷而堅定的目光在說:“我愛你,我知道你也喜歡我。我不是因為毫無成功的希望而保持緘默。要是我獻出這顆心來,我相信你會接受它,但是這顆心已經(jīng)擺到了神圣的祭壇上了,周圍燃起了火,很快它會成為耗盡的供品。”

而隨后她會像失望的孩子那樣板著臉,一片陰沉的烏云會掩去她光芒四射的活力。她會急忙從他那里抽出手來,使一會兒性子,從他既像英雄又像殉道者的面孔轉開。她離開他時,圣.約翰無疑愿意不顧一切地跟隨著,叫喚她,留她下來、但是他不愿放棄進入天國的機會,也不愿為了她愛情的一片樂土,而放棄踏進真正的、永久的天堂的希望。此外,他無法把他的一切集于自己的個性之中,——流浪漢、追求者、詩人和牧師——集中于一種情感的局限之內(nèi)。他不能——也不會——放棄布道的戰(zhàn)場,而要溪谷莊的客廳和寧靜。盡管他守口如瓶,但我有一次還是大膽地闖進他內(nèi)心的密室,因此從他本人那兒了解到了如許秘密。

奧利弗小姐經(jīng)常造訪我的小屋,使我不勝榮幸。我已了解她的全部性格,它既無秘密,也沒有遮掩。她愛賣弄風情,但并不冷酷;她苛刻,但并非自私得一錢不值;她從小受到寵愛,但并沒有被完全慣壞;她性子急,但脾氣好;愛慕虛榮(在她也難怪,鏡子里隨便瞟一眼都照出了她的可愛),但并不裝腔作勢;她出手大方。卻并不因為有錢而自鳴得意;她頭腦機靈,相當聰明,快樂活潑而無所用心??傊苊匀?,即使是對象我這樣同性別的冷眼旁觀者,也是如此。但她并不能使人深感興趣,或者留下難以磨滅的印象。譬如同圣.約翰的妹妹們相比,屬于一種截然不同的頭腦。但我仍象喜歡我的學生阿黛勒那樣喜歡她,所不同的是,我們會對自己看護和教育的孩子,產(chǎn)生一種比對同祥可愛的成年朋友親近的感情。

她心血來潮,對我產(chǎn)生了好感。她說我像里弗斯先生(當然只不過她宣布“沒有他的十分之一漂亮,盡管你是個整潔可愛的小個子,但他是個天使”)。然而我象他那樣為人很好,聰明、冷靜、堅定。她斷言,作為一個鄉(xiāng)村女教師,我天性是個怪人。她確信,要是我以前的歷史給透露出來,一定會成為一部有趣的傳奇。

一天晚上,她照例像孩子一樣好動,粗心卻并不冒犯地問這問那,一面翻著我小廚房里的碗櫥和桌子的抽屜。她看到了兩本法文書,一卷席勒的作品,一本德文語法和詞典。隨后又看到了我的繪畫材料,幾張速寫,其中包括用鉛筆畫的一個小天使般的小姑娘、我的一個學生的頭像和取自莫爾頓溪谷及周圍荒原的不同自然景色。她先是驚訝得發(fā)呆,隨后是高興得激動不已。

“是你畫的嗎?你懂法文和德文?你真可愛—一真是個奇跡!你比S城第一所學校的教師還畫得好。你愿意為我畫一張讓我爸爸看看嗎?”

“很樂意,”我回答。一想到要照著這樣一個如此完美、如此容光煥發(fā)的模特兒畫,我便感到了藝術家喜悅的顫栗。那時她穿了深藍色的絲綢衣服;裸露著胳膊和脖子,唯一的裝飾是她栗色的頭發(fā),以一種天然卷曲所有的不加修飾的雅致,波浪似地從肩上披下來。我拿了一張精致的卡紙,仔細地畫了輪廓,并打算享受將它上彩的樂趣。由于當時天色已晚,我告訴她得改天再坐下來讓我畫了。

她把我的情況向她父親作了詳盡的報告,結果第二天晚上奧利弗先生居然親自陪著她來了。他高個子,五官粗大,中等年紀,頭發(fā)灰白。身邊那位可愛的的女兒看上去象一座古塔旁的一朵鮮花。他似乎是個沉默寡言,或許還很自負的人,但對我很客氣。羅莎蒙德的那張速寫畫很使他高興。他囑我千萬要把它完成,還堅持要我第二天去溪谷莊度過一個夜晚。

我去了,發(fā)現(xiàn)這是一所寬敞漂亮的住宅,充分顯出主人的富有。我呆在那里時羅莎蒙德一直非常高興。她父親和藹可親,茶點以后開始同我們交談時,用很強烈的字眼,對我在莫爾頓學校所做的,表示十分滿意。還說就他所見所聞,他擔心我在這個地方大材小用,會很快離去干一項更合適的工作。

“真的!”羅莎蒙德嚷道,“她那么聰明,做一個名門家庭的女教師綽綽有余,爸爸。”

我想——與其到國內(nèi)哪個名門家庭,遠不如在這里。奧利弗先生說起了里弗斯先生——說起了里弗斯的家庭——肅然起敬。他說在附近地區(qū),這是一個古老的名字,這家的祖宗都很有錢,整個莫爾頓一度屬于他們。甚至現(xiàn)在,他認為這家的代表要是樂意,滿可以同最好的家庭聯(lián)姻。他覺得這么好、這么有才能的一個年青人竟然決定出家當傳教士,實在可惜。那等于拋棄了一種很有價值的生活。那么看來羅莎蒙德的父親不會在她與圣.約翰結合的道路上設置任何障礙。奧利弗先生顯然認為青年牧師的良好出身、古老的名字和神圣的職業(yè)是對他缺乏家財?shù)淖銐蜓a償。

那天是十一月五日,一個假日。我的小傭人幫我清掃了房子后走掉了,對一個便士的酬勞十分滿意。我周圍窗明幾凈,一塵不染——擦洗過的地板,磨得锃亮的爐格和擦得干干凈凈的椅子。我把自己也弄得整整齊齊,這會兒整個下午就隨我度過了。

翻譯幾頁德文占去了我一個小時。隨后我拿了畫板和畫筆,開始了更為容易因而也更加愜意的工作,完成羅莎蒙德.奧利弗的小畫像。頭部已經(jīng)畫好,剩下的只是給背景著色,給服飾畫上陰影,再在成熟的嘴唇上添一抹胭脂紅,——頭發(fā)這兒那兒再畫上一點柔軟的卷發(fā)——把天藍的眼蓋下睫毛的陰影加深一些。我正全神貫注地畫著這些有趣的細節(jié),一陣急促的敲門聲響了起來,我那扇門開了,圣.約翰.里弗斯先生走了進來。

“我來看看你怎么過假日,”他說。“但愿沒有動什么腦筋?沒有,那很好,你一畫畫就不感到寂莫了。你瞧,我還是不大相信,盡管你到目前為止還是很好地挺過來了,我給你帶來了一本書供你晚上消遣,”他把一本新出版的書放在桌上——一部詩:是那個時代——現(xiàn)代文學的黃金時代常常賜予幸運的公眾一本貨真價實的出版物。哎呀!我們這個時代的讀者卻沒有那份福氣。不過拿出勇氣來!我不會停下來控訴或者發(fā)牢騷。我知道詩歌并沒有死亡,天才并未銷聲匿跡,財神爺也沒有把兩者征服,把他們捆綁起來或者殺掉,總有一天兩者都會表明自己的存在、風采、自由和力量。強大的天使,穩(wěn)坐天堂吧!當骯臟的靈魂獲得勝利,弱者為自己的毀滅慟哭時,他們微笑著。詩歌被毀滅了嗎?天才遭到了驅逐嗎?沒有!中不溜兒的人們,不,別讓嫉妒激起你這種想法。不,他們不僅還活著,而且統(tǒng)治著,拯救著。沒有它們無處不在的神圣影響,你會進地獄——你自己的卑微所造成的地獄。

我急不可耐地瀏覽著《瑪米昂》輝煌的篇章(因為《瑪米昂》確實如此)時,圣.約翰俯身細看起我的畫來。他驀地驚跳起來,拉直了高高的身子。他什么也沒有說,我抬頭看他,他避開了我的目光,我很明白他的想法,能直截了當?shù)乜闯鏊男乃紒?。這時候我覺得比他鎮(zhèn)定和冷靜。隨后我暫時占了優(yōu)勢,產(chǎn)生了在可能情況下幫他做些好事的想法。

“他那么堅定不移和一味自我控制,”我想,“實在太苛刻自己了。他把每種情感和痛苦都鎖在內(nèi)心——什么也不表白,不流露,不告訴。我深信,談一點他認為不應當娶的可愛的羅莎蒙德,會對他有好處。我要使他開口。”

我先是說:“坐一下,里弗斯先生,”可是他照例又回答說,不能逗留。“很好,”我心里回答,“要是你高興,你就站著吧,但你還不能走,我的決心已下。寂寞對你和對我至少是一樣不好,我倒要試試,看我能不能發(fā)現(xiàn)你內(nèi)心的秘密,在你大理石般的胸膛找到一個孔,從那里我可以灌進一滴同情的香油。”

“這幅畫像不像?”我直截了當?shù)貑枴?/p>

“像!像誰呀?我沒細看。”

“你看了,里弗斯先生。”

他被我直率得有些突然和奇怪的發(fā)問弄得幾乎跳了起來,驚異地看著我。“呵,那還算不了什么,”我心里嘟噥著。“我不想因為你一點點生硬態(tài)度而罷休。我準備付出巨大的努力。”我繼續(xù)想道,“你看得很仔細很清楚,但我不反對你再看一遍。”我站起來把畫放在他手里。

“一張畫得很好的畫,”他說,“色彩柔和清晰,是一張很優(yōu)美、很恰當?shù)漠嫛?rdquo;

“是呀,是呀,這我都知道。不過像不像呢?這像誰?”

他打消了某種猶豫,回答說:“我想是奧利弗小姐。”

“當然。而現(xiàn)在,先生,為了獎勵你猜得準,我答應給我創(chuàng)作一幅精細準確的復制品,要是你答應這個禮物是可以接受的。我不想把時間和精力化在一件你認為毫無價值的東西上。”

他繼續(xù)凝視著這張畫。他看得越久就把畫捧得越緊,同時也似乎越想看它。“是很像!”他喃喃地說。“眼睛畫得很好。顏色、光線、表情都很完美。它微笑著!”

“保存一張復制品會使你感到安慰呢,還是會傷你的心?請你告訴我。當你在馬達加斯加,或者好望角,或者印度,在你的行囊中有這樣的紀念品,對你是一種安慰呢,還是一看見就激起你令人喪氣和難受的回憶?”

這時他偷偷地抬起眼來。他猶猶豫豫忐忑不安地看了我一眼,再次細看起這幅畫來。

“我是肯定要的,不過這樣做是不是審慎或明智,那就是另外一回事了。”

既然我已弄明白羅莎蒙德真的喜歡他,她的父親也不大可能反對這門親事,我——我對自己的觀點并不像圣.約翰那樣得意揚揚——我心里完全傾向于主張他們的結合。我覺得要是他能獲得奧利弗先生的大宗財產(chǎn),他可以用這筆錢做很多事情,強似在熱帶的太陽下讓才能枯竭,讓力氣白費。想著可以這么勸說他,我此刻回答說:

“依我看來,立刻把畫中的本人要走,倒是更明智和更有識見的。”

這時候他已坐了下來,把畫放在面前的桌子上,雙手支撐著額頭,多情地反復看著這張畫。我發(fā)覺他對我的大膽放肆既不發(fā)火也不感到震驚。我甚至還看到,那么坦率地談論一個他認為不可接觸的話題——聽這個話題任意處理——開始被他感到是一種新的樂趣——一種出乎意外的寬慰。沉默寡言的人常常要比性格爽朗的人更需要直率地討論他們的感情和不幸,看似最嚴酷的禁欲主義者畢竟也是人。大膽和好心“闖入”他們靈魂的“沉寂大海”,常常等于是賦予他們最好的恩惠。

“她喜歡你,我敢肯定,”我站在他椅子背后說,“她的父親尊重你,此外,她是個可愛的姑娘——不大有想法。但你會有夠你們兩個管用的想法。你應當娶她。”

“難道她喜歡我?”他問。

“當然,勝過愛任何其他人。她不斷談起你,沒有比這個更使她喜歡或者觸及得更多的話題了。”

“很高興聽你這樣說,”他說——“很高興,再淡一刻鐘吧。”他真的取出手表,放在桌上掌握時間。

“可是繼續(xù)談有什么用?”我問,“既然你也許正在澆鑄反抗的鐵拳,或者鍛造新的鏈條把自己的心束縛起來。”

“別想這些嚴酷無情的東西了。要想象我讓步了,被感化了,就像我正在做的那樣。人類的愛像是我心田里新開辟的噴泉,不斷上漲,甜蜜的洪水四溢,流淌到了我仔細而辛勞地開墾出來的田野——這里辛勤地播種著善意和自我克制的種子?,F(xiàn)在這里泛濫著甜美的洪水——稚嫩的萌芽已被淹沒——可口的毒藥腐蝕著它們。此刻我看到自己躺在溪谷莊休息室的睡榻上,在我的新娘羅莎蒙德.奧利弗的腳跟前。她用那甜甜的嗓音同我在說話——用被你靈巧的手畫得那么逼真的眼睛俯視著我——她那珊瑚色的嘴唇朝我微笑著——她是我的——我是她的——眼前的生活和過眼煙云般的世界對我已經(jīng)足夠了。噓!別張嘴!一—我欣喜萬分——我神魂顛倒—讓我平靜地度過我所規(guī)定的時間。”

我滿足了他。手表嘀嗒嘀嗒響著,他的呼吸時緊時慢,我默默地站著。在一片靜謐中一
刻鐘過去了。他拿起手表,放下畫,立起來,站在壁爐邊。

“行啦,”他說,“在那一小段時間中我己沉溺于癡心妄想了。我把腦袋靠在誘惑的胸口,心甘情愿地把脖子伸向她花一般的枷鎖。我嘗了她的酒杯,枕頭還燃著火,花環(huán)里有一條毒蛇,酒有苦味,她的允諾是空的——建議是假的。這一切我都明白。”

我驚詫不己地瞪著他。

“事情也怪,”他說下去,“我那么狂熱地愛著羅莎蒙德.奧利弗——說真的懷著初戀的全部熱情,而戀上的對象絕對漂亮、優(yōu)雅、迷人——與此同時我又有一種寧靜而不偏不倚的感悟,覺得她不會當個好妻子,不是適合我的伴侶,婚后一年之內(nèi)我便會發(fā)現(xiàn)。十二個月銷魂似的日子之后,接踵而來的是終身遺憾。這我知道。”

“奇怪,真奇怪!”我禁不住叫了起來。

“我內(nèi)心的某一方面,”他說下去,對她的魅力深為敏感,但另一方面對她的缺陷,印象也很深。那就是她無法對我所追求的產(chǎn)生共鳴——不能為我所做的事業(yè)攜手合作。難道羅莎蒙德是一個吃得起苦的人,一個勞作者,一個女使徒嗎?難道羅莎蒙德是一個傳教士的妻子?不!”

“不過你不必當傳教士?你可以放棄那個打算。”

“放棄!什么——我的職業(yè)?我的偉大的工作?我為天堂里的大廈在世間所打的基礎?我要成為那一小群人的希望?這群人把自己的一切雄心壯志同那樁光榮的事業(yè)合而為一,那就是提高他們的種族——把知識傳播到無知的領域——用和平代替戰(zhàn)爭——用自由代替束縛——宗教代替迷信——上天堂的愿望代替入地獄的恐俱。難道連這也得放棄?它比我血管里流的血還可貴。這正是我所向往的,是我活著的目的。”

他沉默了好長一會兒后,我說——“那么奧利弗小姐呢,難道你就不關心她的失望和哀傷了?”

“奧利弗小姐向來有一大群求婚者和獻殷勤的人圍著她轉,不到一個月,我的形象會從她心坎里抹去,她會忘掉我,很可能會跟一個比我更能使她幸福的人結婚。”

“你說得倒夠冷靜的,不過你內(nèi)心很矛盾,很痛苦。你日見消瘦。”

“不,要是我有點兒瘦,那是我為懸而未決的前景擔憂的緣故——我的離別日期一拖再拖。就是今大早上我還接到了消息,我一直盼著的后繼者,三個月之內(nèi)無法接替我,也許這三個月又會延長到六個月。”

“無論什么時候,奧利弗小姐一走進教室你就顫抖起來、臉漲得通紅。”

他臉上再次浮起驚訝的表情。他想象不到一個女人居然敢于這么同一個男人說話。至于我,這—類交談我非常習慣。我與很有頭腦、言語謹慎、富有教養(yǎng)的人交際的時候,不管是男人還是女人,我非要繞過緘默的傳統(tǒng)防衛(wèi)工事,踏進奧秘的門檻,在心坎的火爐邊上找到一個位置才肯罷休。

“你確實見解獨到,”他說,“膽子也不小。你的精神中有一種勇氣,你的眼睛有一種穿透力,可是請允許我向你保證,你部份誤解了我的情感。你把這些情感想象得比實際的要深沉,要強烈。你給了我甚于我正當要求的同情。我在奧利弗小姐面前臉紅,顫抖時,我不是憐憫自己,而是蔑視我的弱點。我知道這并不光彩,它不過是肉體的狂熱,我宣布,不是靈魂的抽搐。那靈魂堅加磐石,牢牢扎在騷動不安的大海深處。你知道我是怎么個人——一個冷酷無情的人。”

我懷疑地笑了笑。

“你用突然襲擊的辦法掏出了我的心里話,”他繼續(xù)說,“現(xiàn)在就聽任你擺布了,剝?nèi)ビ没浇塘x來掩蓋人性缺陷、漂凈了血污的袍子,我本是個冷酷無情雄心勃勃的人。只有各種天生的情感會對我產(chǎn)生永久的力量。我的向導是理智而并非情感,我的雄心沒有止境,我要比別人爬得高干得多的欲望永不能滿足。我尊崇忍耐、堅持、勤勉和才能,因為這是人要干大事業(yè),出大名的必要條件。我興趣十足地觀察了你的經(jīng)歷,因為我認為你是勤勤懇懇、有條有理、精力充沛的女人的典范,倒并不是因為我對你所經(jīng)歷的或正在受的苦深表同情。”

“你會把自己描述成不過是位異教徒哲學家的。”我說。

“不,我與自然神論的哲學家之間是有區(qū)別的:我有信仰,我信奉福音。你用錯了修飾語。我不是異教徒哲學家,正是基督教哲學家——一個耶穌教派的信徒,作為他的信徒,我信仰他純潔、寬厚、仁慈的教義。我主張這樣的教義、發(fā)誓要為之傳播,我年輕時就信仰宗教,于是宗教培養(yǎng)了我最初的品格——它已從小小的幼芽,自然的情感,長成濃蔭蔽日的大樹,變成了慈善主義,從人類真誠品質(zhì)的粗糙野生的根子上,相應長出了神圣的公正感。把我為可憐的自我謀求權力和名聲的雄心,變成擴大主的天地、為十字架旗幟獲得勝利的大志。宗教已為我做了很多,把原始的天性變成最好的品質(zhì)、修剪和培育了天性。但是無法根除天性,天性也不可能根除,直到“這必死的變成不死的’時候。”

說完,他拿起放在桌上我畫板旁的帽子,再一次看了看畫像。

“她的確可愛,”他喃喃地說。“她不愧為世界上最好的玫瑰,真的。”

“我可不可以畫一張像這樣的給你呢?”

“干嘛?不必了。”

他拉過一張薄薄的紙蓋在畫上,這張紙是我平常作畫時怕弄臟紙板常作為墊手用的。他突然在這張空白紙上究竟看到了什么,我無法判斷。但某種東西引起了他的注意。他猛地揀起來,看了看紙邊,隨后瞟了我一眼,那目光奇怪得難以形容,而旦不可理解,似乎攝取并記下了我的體態(tài)、面容和服飾的每個細節(jié)。它一掃而過,猶如閃電般迅速和銳利。他張開嘴唇,似乎想說話,但把到了嘴邊的什么話咽了下去。

“怎么回事?”我問。

“什么事也沒有”對方回答,一面又把紙放下。我見他利索地從邊上撕下一小條,放進
了手套,匆勿忙忙點了點頭。“下午好,”就消失得無影無蹤了。

“嗨!”我用那個地區(qū)的一個短語嚷道:“這可絕了!”

我呢,仔細看了看那張紙,但除了我試畫筆色澤所留下的幾滴暗淡的污漬,我什么也沒有看到。我把這個謎琢磨了一兩分鐘,但無法解開。我相信這也無關緊要,便不再去想它,不久也就忘了。
 

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