章节正文
he was doing, had turned his sword against the King.
He made one fierce cut at the King, and the King,
with a piteous cry, dropped where he stood. The stout ruffian
turned to face me again. But his own hand had prepared his destruction:
for in turning he trod in the pool of blood that flowed from the dead physician.
He slipped; he fell. Like a dart I was upon him. I caught him by the throat,
and before he could recover himself I drove my point through his neck,
and with a stifled curse he fell across the body of his victim.
Was the King dead? It was my first thought. I rushed to
where he lay. Ay, it seemed as if he were dead, for he had
a great gash across his forehead, and he lay still in a huddled
heap on the floor. I dropped on my knees beside him, and leant
my ear down to hear if he breathed. But before I could there was
a loud rattle from the outside. I knew the sound: the drawbridge
was being pushed out. A moment later it rang home against the wall
on my side of the moat. I should be caught in a trap and the King with me,
if he yet lived. He must take his chance, to live or die. I took my sword,
and passed into the outer room. Who were pushing the drawbridge out--my men?
If so, all was well. My eye fell on the revolvers, and I seized one;
and paused to listen in the doorway of the outer room. To listen, say I?
Yes, and to get my breath: and I tore my shirt and twisted a strip of it
round my bleeding arm; and stood listening again. I would have given
the world to hear Sapt's voice. For I was faint, spent, and weary.
And that wild-cat Rupert Hentzau was yet at large in the Castle.
Yet, because I could better defend the narrow door at the top
of the stairs than the wider entrance to the room,
I dragged myself up the steps, and stood behind it listening.
What was the sound? Again a strange one for the place
and time. An easy, scornful, merry laugh--the laugh of young
Rupert Hentzau! I could scarcely believe that a sane man would laugh.
Yet the laugh told me that my men had not come; for they must have shot
Rupert ere now, if they had come. And the clock struck half-past two!
My God! The door had not been opened! They had gone to the bank!
They had not found me! They had gone by now back to Tarlenheim,
with the news of the King's death--and mine. Well, it would
be true before they got there. Was not Rupert laughing in triumph?
For a moment, I sank, unnerved, against the door. Then I
started up alert again, for Rupert cried scornfully:
"Well, the bridge is there! Come over it!
And in God's name, let's see Black Michael.
Keep back, you curs! Michael, come and fight for her!"
If it were a three-cornered fight, I might yet bear my part.
I turned the key in the door and looked out.
CHAPTER 19
Face to Face in the Forest
For a moment I could see nothing, for the glare of lanterns
and torches caught me full in the eyes from the other side
of the bridge. But soon the scene grew clear: and it was
a strange scene. The bridge was in its place. At the far end
of it stood a group of the duke's servants; two or three carried
the lights which had dazzled me, three or four held pikes in rest.
They were huddled together; their weapons were protruded before them;
their faces were pale and agitated. To put it plainly, they looked
in as arrant a fright as I have seen men look, and they gazed
apprehensively at a man who stood in the middle of the bridge,
sword in hand. Rupert Hentzau was in his trousers and shirt;
the white linen was stained with blood, but his easy, buoyant pose
told me that he was himself either not touched at all or merely scratched.
There he stood, holding the bridge against them, and daring them to come on;
or, rather, bidding them send Black Michael to him; and they,
having no firearms, cowered before the desperate man
and dared not attack him. They whispered to one another;
and in the backmost rank, I saw my friend Johann,
leaning against the portal of the door and stanching
with a handkerchief the blood which flowed from a wound in his cheek.
By marvellous chance, I was master. The cravens
would oppose me no more than they dared attack Rupert.
I had but to raise my revolver, and I sent him to his account
with his sins on his head. He did not so much as know that I was there.
I did nothing--why, I hardly know to this day. I had killed one man
stealthily that night, and another by luck rather than skill--
perhaps it was that. Again, villain as the man was, I did not
relish being one of a crowd against him--perhaps it was that.
But stronger than either of these restrained feelings came
a curiosity and a fascination which held me spellbound,
watching for the outcome of the scene.
"Michael, you dog! Michael! If you can stand, come on!"
cried Rupert; and he advanced a step, the group shrinking back
a little before him. "Michael, you bastard! Come on!"
The answer to his taunts came in the wild cry of a woman:
"He's dead! My God, he's dead!"
"Dead!" shouted Rupert. "I struck better than I knew!"
and he laughed triumphantly" target="_blank" title="ad.胜利地；洋洋得意地">triumphantly. Then he went on: "Down with your
weapons there! I'm your master now! Down with them, I say!"
I believe they would have obeyed, but as he spoke came new things.
First, there arose a distant sound, as of shouts and knockings
from the other side of the chateau. My heart leapt. It must be my men,
come by a happy disobedience to seek me. The noise continued,
but none of the rest seemed to heed it. Their attention was chained
by what now happened before their eyes. The group of servants parted
and a woman staggered on to the bridge. Antoinette de Mauban
was in a loose white robe, her dark hair streamed over her shoulders,
her face was ghastly pale, and her eyes gleamed wildly in the light
of the torches. In her shaking hand she held a revolver, and,
as she tottered forward, she fired it at Rupert Hentzau.
The ball missed him, and struck the woodwork over my head.
"Faith, madame," laughed Rupert, "had your eyes been no more deadly
than your shooting, I had not been in this scrape--nor Black Michael
in hell--tonight!"
She took no notice of his words. With a wonderful effort,
she calmed herself till she stood still and rigid.
Then very slowly and deliberately she began to raise her arm again,
taking most careful aim.
He would be mad to risk it. He must rush on her, chancing the bullet,
or retreat towards me. I covered him with my weapon.
He did neither. Before she had got her aim, he bowed in his most
graceful fashion, cried "I can't kill where I've kissed,"
and before she or I could stop him, laid his hand on the parapet
of the bridge, and lightly leapt into the moat.
At that very moment I heard a rush of feet, and a voice I knew--Sapt's--
cry: "God! it's the duke--dead!" Then I knew that the King needed me
no more, and throwing down my revolver, I sprang out on the bridge.
There was a cry of wild wonder, "The King!" and then I, like Rupert
of Hentzau, sword in hand, vaulted over the parapet, intent on finishing
my quarrel with him where I saw his curly head fifteen yards off
in the water of the moat.
He swam swiftly and easily. I was weary and half crippled with
my wounded arm. I could not gain on him. For a time I made no sound,
but as we rounded the corner of the old keep I cried:
"Stop, Rupert, stop!"
I saw him look over his shoulder, but he swam on. He was
under the bank now, searching, as I guessed, for a spot that
he could climb. I knew there to be none--but there was my rope,
which would still be hanging where I had left it. He would come
to where it was before I could. Perhaps he would miss it--
perhaps he would find it; and if he drew it up after him,
he would get a good start of me. I put forth all my remaining
strength and pressed on. At last I began to gain on him; for he,
occupied with his search, unconsciously slackened his pace.
Ah, he had found it! A low shout of triumph came from him.
He laid hold of it and began to haul himself up. I was near
enough to hear him mutter: "How the devil comes this here?'
I was at the rope, and he, hanging in mid air, saw me, but I
could not reach him.
"Hullo! who's here?" he cried in startled tones.
For a moment, I believe, he took me for the King--I dare say
I was pale enough to lend colour to the thought; but an instant
later he cried:
"Why it's the play-actor! How come you here, man?"
And so saying he gained the bank.
I laid hold of the rope, but I paused. He stood on the bank,
sword in hand, and he could cut my head open or spit me
through the heart as I came up. I let go the rope.
"Never mind," said I; "but as I am here, I think I'll stay."
He smiled down on me.
"These women are the deuce--" he began; when suddenly the
great bell of the Castle started to ring furiously,
and a loud shout reached us from the moat.
Rupert smiled again, and waved his hand to me.
"I should like a turn with you, but it's a little too hot!"
said he, and he disappeared from above me.
In an instant, without thinking of danger, I laid my hand to the rope.
I was up. I saw him thirty yards off, running like a deer towards
the shelter of the forest. For once Rupert Hentzau had chosen discretion
for his part. I laid my feet to the ground and rushed after him,
calling to him to stand. He would not. Unwounded and vigorous,
he gained on me at every step; but, forgetting everything
in the world except him and my thirst for his blood, I pressed on,
and soon the deep shades of the forest of Zenda engulfed us both,
pursued and pursuer.
It was three o'clock now, and day was dawning. I was on
a long straight grass avenue, and a hundred yards ahead
ran young Rupert, his curls waving in the fresh breeze.
I was weary and panting; he looked over his shoulder and waved
his hand again to me. He was mocking me, for he saw he had the pace
of me. I was forced to pause for breath. A moment later,
Rupert turned sharply to the right and was lost from my sight.
I thought all was over, and in deep vexation sank on the ground.
But I was up again directly, for a scream rang through the forest--
a woman's scream. Putting forth the last of my strength,
I ran on to the place where he had turned out of my sight,
and, turning also, I saw him again. But alas! I could not touch him.
He was in the act of lifting a girl down from her horse;
doubtless it was her scream that I heard. She looked like
a small farmer's or a peasant's daughter, and she carried
a basket on her arm. Probably she was on her way to the
early market at Zenda. Her horse was a stout, well shaped animal.
Master Rupert lifted her down amid her shrieks--the sight of him
frightened her; but he treated her gently, laughed, kissed her,
and gave her money. Then he jumped on the horse, sitting sideways
like a woman; and then he waited for me. I, on my part, waited for him.
Presently he rode towards me, keeping his distance, however.
He lifted up his hand, saying:
"What did you in the Castle?"
"I killed three of your friends," said I.
"What! You got to the cells?"
"Yes."
"And the King?"
"He was hurt by Detchard before I killed Detchard,
but I pray that he lives."
"You fool!" said Rupert, pleasantly.
"One thing more I did."
"And what's that?"
"I spared your life. I was behind you on the bridge,
with a revolver in my hand."
"No? Faith, I was between two fires!"
"Get off your horse," I cried, "and fight like a man."
"Before a lady!" said he, pointing to the girl.
"Fie, your Majesty!"
Then in my rage, hardly knowing what I did, I rushed at him.
For a moment he seemed to waver. Then he reined his horse in
He made one fierce cut at the King, and the King,
with a piteous cry, dropped where he stood. The stout ruffian
turned to face me again. But his own hand had prepared his destruction:
for in turning he trod in the pool of blood that flowed from the dead physician.
He slipped; he fell. Like a dart I was upon him. I caught him by the throat,
and before he could recover himself I drove my point through his neck,
and with a stifled curse he fell across the body of his victim.
Was the King dead? It was my first thought. I rushed to
where he lay. Ay, it seemed as if he were dead, for he had
a great gash across his forehead, and he lay still in a huddled
heap on the floor. I dropped on my knees beside him, and leant
my ear down to hear if he breathed. But before I could there was
a loud rattle from the outside. I knew the sound: the drawbridge
was being pushed out. A moment later it rang home against the wall
on my side of the moat. I should be caught in a trap and the King with me,
if he yet lived. He must take his chance, to live or die. I took my sword,
and passed into the outer room. Who were pushing the drawbridge out--my men?
If so, all was well. My eye fell on the revolvers, and I seized one;
and paused to listen in the doorway of the outer room. To listen, say I?
Yes, and to get my breath: and I tore my shirt and twisted a strip of it
round my bleeding arm; and stood listening again. I would have given
the world to hear Sapt's voice. For I was faint, spent, and weary.
And that wild-cat Rupert Hentzau was yet at large in the Castle.
Yet, because I could better defend the narrow door at the top
of the stairs than the wider entrance to the room,
I dragged myself up the steps, and stood behind it listening.
What was the sound? Again a strange one for the place
and time. An easy, scornful, merry laugh--the laugh of young
Rupert Hentzau! I could scarcely believe that a sane man would laugh.
Yet the laugh told me that my men had not come; for they must have shot
Rupert ere now, if they had come. And the clock struck half-past two!
My God! The door had not been opened! They had gone to the bank!
They had not found me! They had gone by now back to Tarlenheim,
with the news of the King's death--and mine. Well, it would
be true before they got there. Was not Rupert laughing in triumph?
For a moment, I sank, unnerved, against the door. Then I
started up alert again, for Rupert cried scornfully:
"Well, the bridge is there! Come over it!
And in God's name, let's see Black Michael.
Keep back, you curs! Michael, come and fight for her!"
If it were a three-cornered fight, I might yet bear my part.
I turned the key in the door and looked out.
CHAPTER 19
Face to Face in the Forest
For a moment I could see nothing, for the glare of lanterns
and torches caught me full in the eyes from the other side
of the bridge. But soon the scene grew clear: and it was
a strange scene. The bridge was in its place. At the far end
of it stood a group of the duke's servants; two or three carried
the lights which had dazzled me, three or four held pikes in rest.
They were huddled together; their weapons were protruded before them;
their faces were pale and agitated. To put it plainly, they looked
in as arrant a fright as I have seen men look, and they gazed
apprehensively at a man who stood in the middle of the bridge,
sword in hand. Rupert Hentzau was in his trousers and shirt;
the white linen was stained with blood, but his easy, buoyant pose
told me that he was himself either not touched at all or merely scratched.
There he stood, holding the bridge against them, and daring them to come on;
or, rather, bidding them send Black Michael to him; and they,
having no firearms, cowered before the desperate man
and dared not attack him. They whispered to one another;
and in the backmost rank, I saw my friend Johann,
leaning against the portal of the door and stanching
with a handkerchief the blood which flowed from a wound in his cheek.
By marvellous chance, I was master. The cravens
would oppose me no more than they dared attack Rupert.
I had but to raise my revolver, and I sent him to his account
with his sins on his head. He did not so much as know that I was there.
I did nothing--why, I hardly know to this day. I had killed one man
stealthily that night, and another by luck rather than skill--
perhaps it was that. Again, villain as the man was, I did not
relish being one of a crowd against him--perhaps it was that.
But stronger than either of these restrained feelings came
a curiosity and a fascination which held me spellbound,
watching for the outcome of the scene.
"Michael, you dog! Michael! If you can stand, come on!"
cried Rupert; and he advanced a step, the group shrinking back
a little before him. "Michael, you bastard! Come on!"
The answer to his taunts came in the wild cry of a woman:
"He's dead! My God, he's dead!"
"Dead!" shouted Rupert. "I struck better than I knew!"
and he laughed triumphantly" target="_blank" title="ad.胜利地；洋洋得意地">triumphantly. Then he went on: "Down with your
weapons there! I'm your master now! Down with them, I say!"
I believe they would have obeyed, but as he spoke came new things.
First, there arose a distant sound, as of shouts and knockings
from the other side of the chateau. My heart leapt. It must be my men,
come by a happy disobedience to seek me. The noise continued,
but none of the rest seemed to heed it. Their attention was chained
by what now happened before their eyes. The group of servants parted
and a woman staggered on to the bridge. Antoinette de Mauban
was in a loose white robe, her dark hair streamed over her shoulders,
her face was ghastly pale, and her eyes gleamed wildly in the light
of the torches. In her shaking hand she held a revolver, and,
as she tottered forward, she fired it at Rupert Hentzau.
The ball missed him, and struck the woodwork over my head.
"Faith, madame," laughed Rupert, "had your eyes been no more deadly
than your shooting, I had not been in this scrape--nor Black Michael
in hell--tonight!"
She took no notice of his words. With a wonderful effort,
she calmed herself till she stood still and rigid.
Then very slowly and deliberately she began to raise her arm again,
taking most careful aim.
He would be mad to risk it. He must rush on her, chancing the bullet,
or retreat towards me. I covered him with my weapon.
He did neither. Before she had got her aim, he bowed in his most
graceful fashion, cried "I can't kill where I've kissed,"
and before she or I could stop him, laid his hand on the parapet
of the bridge, and lightly leapt into the moat.
At that very moment I heard a rush of feet, and a voice I knew--Sapt's--
cry: "God! it's the duke--dead!" Then I knew that the King needed me
no more, and throwing down my revolver, I sprang out on the bridge.
There was a cry of wild wonder, "The King!" and then I, like Rupert
of Hentzau, sword in hand, vaulted over the parapet, intent on finishing
my quarrel with him where I saw his curly head fifteen yards off
in the water of the moat.
He swam swiftly and easily. I was weary and half crippled with
my wounded arm. I could not gain on him. For a time I made no sound,
but as we rounded the corner of the old keep I cried:
"Stop, Rupert, stop!"
I saw him look over his shoulder, but he swam on. He was
under the bank now, searching, as I guessed, for a spot that
he could climb. I knew there to be none--but there was my rope,
which would still be hanging where I had left it. He would come
to where it was before I could. Perhaps he would miss it--
perhaps he would find it; and if he drew it up after him,
he would get a good start of me. I put forth all my remaining
strength and pressed on. At last I began to gain on him; for he,
occupied with his search, unconsciously slackened his pace.
Ah, he had found it! A low shout of triumph came from him.
He laid hold of it and began to haul himself up. I was near
enough to hear him mutter: "How the devil comes this here?'
I was at the rope, and he, hanging in mid air, saw me, but I
could not reach him.
"Hullo! who's here?" he cried in startled tones.
For a moment, I believe, he took me for the King--I dare say
I was pale enough to lend colour to the thought; but an instant
later he cried:
"Why it's the play-actor! How come you here, man?"
And so saying he gained the bank.
I laid hold of the rope, but I paused. He stood on the bank,
sword in hand, and he could cut my head open or spit me
through the heart as I came up. I let go the rope.
"Never mind," said I; "but as I am here, I think I'll stay."
He smiled down on me.
"These women are the deuce--" he began; when suddenly the
great bell of the Castle started to ring furiously,
and a loud shout reached us from the moat.
Rupert smiled again, and waved his hand to me.
"I should like a turn with you, but it's a little too hot!"
said he, and he disappeared from above me.
In an instant, without thinking of danger, I laid my hand to the rope.
I was up. I saw him thirty yards off, running like a deer towards
the shelter of the forest. For once Rupert Hentzau had chosen discretion
for his part. I laid my feet to the ground and rushed after him,
calling to him to stand. He would not. Unwounded and vigorous,
he gained on me at every step; but, forgetting everything
in the world except him and my thirst for his blood, I pressed on,
and soon the deep shades of the forest of Zenda engulfed us both,
pursued and pursuer.
It was three o'clock now, and day was dawning. I was on
a long straight grass avenue, and a hundred yards ahead
ran young Rupert, his curls waving in the fresh breeze.
I was weary and panting; he looked over his shoulder and waved
his hand again to me. He was mocking me, for he saw he had the pace
of me. I was forced to pause for breath. A moment later,
Rupert turned sharply to the right and was lost from my sight.
I thought all was over, and in deep vexation sank on the ground.
But I was up again directly, for a scream rang through the forest--
a woman's scream. Putting forth the last of my strength,
I ran on to the place where he had turned out of my sight,
and, turning also, I saw him again. But alas! I could not touch him.
He was in the act of lifting a girl down from her horse;
doubtless it was her scream that I heard. She looked like
a small farmer's or a peasant's daughter, and she carried
a basket on her arm. Probably she was on her way to the
early market at Zenda. Her horse was a stout, well shaped animal.
Master Rupert lifted her down amid her shrieks--the sight of him
frightened her; but he treated her gently, laughed, kissed her,
and gave her money. Then he jumped on the horse, sitting sideways
like a woman; and then he waited for me. I, on my part, waited for him.
Presently he rode towards me, keeping his distance, however.
He lifted up his hand, saying:
"What did you in the Castle?"
"I killed three of your friends," said I.
"What! You got to the cells?"
"Yes."
"And the King?"
"He was hurt by Detchard before I killed Detchard,
but I pray that he lives."
"You fool!" said Rupert, pleasantly.
"One thing more I did."
"And what's that?"
"I spared your life. I was behind you on the bridge,
with a revolver in my hand."
"No? Faith, I was between two fires!"
"Get off your horse," I cried, "and fight like a man."
"Before a lady!" said he, pointing to the girl.
"Fie, your Majesty!"
Then in my rage, hardly knowing what I did, I rushed at him.
For a moment he seemed to waver. Then he reined his horse in
- fierce [fiəs]
a.残忍的；强烈的 (初中英语单词) - forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- rattle [´rætl] n.嘎吱声 (初中英语单词)
- doorway [´dɔ:wei] n.门口 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- plainly [´pleinli] ad.平坦地；简单地 (初中英语单词)
- fright [frait] n.惊吓；恐怖；怪人 (初中英语单词)
- trousers [´trauzəz] n.裤子，长裤 (初中英语单词)
- desperate [´despərit] a.拼死的；绝望的 (初中英语单词)
- handkerchief [´hæŋkətʃif] n.手帕，手绢 (初中英语单词)
- curiosity [,kjuəri´ɔsiti] n.好奇；奇事；珍品 (初中英语单词)
- advanced [əd´vɑ:nst] a.先进的；高级的 (初中英语单词)
- retreat [ri´tri:t] v.&n.退却；撤退；放弃 (初中英语单词)
- lightly [´laitli] ad.轻微地，稍微 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- intent [in´tent] a.专心致志的 n.意图 (初中英语单词)
- swiftly [´swiftli] ad.迅速地，敏捷地 (初中英语单词)
- triumph [´traiəmf] n.胜利 vi.得胜，战胜 (初中英语单词)
- mutter [´mʌtə] v.&n.咕哝；嘀咕 (初中英语单词)
- instant [´instənt] a.立即的 n.紧迫；瞬间 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- thirst [θə:st] n.渴，口渴；渴望 (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- scream [skri:m] v.&n.尖叫(声) (初中英语单词)
- gently [´dʒentli] ad.温和地；静静地 (初中英语单词)
- knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- ghastly [´gɑ:stli] a.苍白的；可怕的 (高中英语单词)
- deliberately [di´libərətli] ad.故意地；慎重地 (高中英语单词)
- hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- bridge [bridʒ] n.桥(梁)；鼻梁；桥牌 (英语四级单词)
- buoyant [´bɔiənt] a.能漂浮的；快活的 (英语四级单词)
- daring [´deəriŋ] a.&n.勇敢(的) (英语四级单词)
- portal [´pɔ:tl] n.(正)门；隧道 (英语四级单词)
- revolver [ri´vɔlvə] n.左轮手枪；旋转者 (英语四级单词)
- villain [´vilən] n.坏人；恶棍；反面角色 (英语四级单词)
- fascination [,fæsi´neiʃən] n.魅力；强烈爱好 (英语四级单词)
- outcome [´autkʌm] n.结果；后果；成果 (英语四级单词)
- triumphantly [trai´ʌmfəntli] ad.胜利地；洋洋得意地 (英语四级单词)
- chateau [´ʃætəu] n.城堡；公馆，邸宅 (英语四级单词)
- unconsciously [ʌn´kɔʃəsli] ad.无意识地；不觉察地 (英语四级单词)
- scornful [´skɔ:nful] a.轻蔑的，藐视的 (英语六级单词)
- arrant [´ærənt] a.彻头彻尾的；极恶的 (英语六级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
- woodwork [´wudwə:k] n.木制品；木工 (英语六级单词)
- vexation [vek´seiʃən] n.烦恼(的原因) (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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