章节正文
and before daybreak he sauntered down along
the beach and gazed out upon the calm fjord,
where the white-winged sea-birds whirled in
great airy surges around the bare crags. Far
up above the noisy throng an ospray sailed on
the blue expanse of the sky, and quick as
thought swooped down upon a halibut which
had ventured to take a peep at the rising sun.
The huge fish struggled for a moment at the
water's edge, then, with a powerful stroke of
its tail, which sent the spray hissing through
the air, dived below the surface. The bird of
prey gave a loud scream, flapped fiercely with
its broad wings, and for several minutes a
thickening cloud of applauding ducks and seagulls
and showers of spray hid the combat from
the observer's eye. When the birds scattered,
the ospray had vanished, and the waters again
glittered calmly in the morning sun. Truls
stood long, vacantly staring out upon the scene
of the conflict, and many strange thoughts
whirled through his head.
"Halloo, fiddler!" cried a couple of lads who
had come to clear the wedding boats, "you are
early on foot to-day. Here is a scoop. Come
on and help us bail the boats."
Truls took the scoop, and looked at it as if he
had never seen such a thing before; he moved
about heavily, hardly knowing what he did, but
conscious all the while of his own great misery.
His limbs seemed half frozen, and a dull pain
gathered about his head and in his breast--in
fact, everywhere and nowhere.
About ten o'clock the bridal procession
descended the slope to the fjord. Syvert Stein,
the bridegroom, trod the earth with a firm,
springy step, and spoke many a cheery word to
tho bride, who walked, silent and with downcast
eyes, at his side. She wore the ancestral
bridal crown on her head, and the little silver
disks around its edge tinkled and shook as she
walked. They hailed her with firing of guns
and loud hurrahs as she stepped into the boat;
still she did not raise her eyes, but remained
silent. A small cannon, also an heir-loom in the
family, was placed amidships, and Truls, with
his violin, took his seat in the prow. A large
solitary cloud, gold-rimmed but with thunder
in its breast, sailed across the sky and threw its
shadow over the bridal boat as it was pushed
out from the shore, and the shadow fell upon
the bride's countenance too; and when she
lifted it, the mother of the bridegroom, who sat
opposite her, shrank back, for the countenance
looked hard, as if carved in stone--in the eyes
a mute, hopelessappeal; on the lips a frozen
prayer. The shadow of thunder upon a life
that was opening--it was an ill omen, and its
gloom sank into the hearts of the wedding
guests. They spoke in undertones and threw
pitying glances at the bride. Then at length
Syvert Stein lost his patience.
"In sooth," cried he, springing up from his
seat, "where is to-day the cheer that is wont to
abide in the Norseman's breast? Methinks I
see but sullen airs and ill-boding glances. Ha,
fiddler, now move your strings lustily! None
of your funeral airs, my lad, but a merry tune
that shall sing through marrow and bone, and
make the heart leap in the bosom."
Truls heard the words, and in a slow,
mechanical way he took the violin out of its case and
raised it to his chin. Syvert in the mean while
put a huge silver beer-jug to his mouth, and,
pledging his guests, emptied it even to the
dregs. But the bride's cheek was pale; and it
was so still in the boat that every man could
hear his own breathing.
"Ha, to-day is Syvert Stein's wedding-day!"
shouted the bridegroom, growing hot with
wrath. "Let us try if the iron voice of the
cannon can wake my guests from their slumber."
He struck a match and put it to the touch-
hole of the cannon; a long boom rolled away
over the surface of the waters and startled the
echoes of the distant glaciers. A faint hurrah
sounded from the nearest craft, but there came
no response from the bridal boat. Syvert pulled
the powder-horn from his pocket, laughed a
wild laugh, and poured the whole contents of
the horn into the mouth of the cannon.
"Now may the devil care for his own," roared
he, and sprang up upon the row-bench. Then
there came a low murmuring strain as of wavelets
that ripple against a sandy shore. Borghild
lifted her eyes, and they met those of the fiddler.
"Ah, I think I should rather be your
bridegroom," whispered she, and a ray of life stole
into her stony visage.
And she saw herself as a little rosy-cheeked
girl sitting at his side on the beach fifteen years
ago. But the music gathered strength from
her glance, and onward it rushed through the
noisy years of boyhood, shouting with wanton
voice in the lonely glen, lowing with the cattle
on the mountain pastures, and leaping like the
trout at eventide in the brawling rapids; but
through it all there ran a warm strain of boyish
loyalty and strong devotion, and it thawed her
frozen heart; for she knew that it was all for
her and for her only. And it seemed such a
beautiful thing, this long faithful life, which
through sorrow and joy, through sunshine and
gloom, for better for worse, had clung so fast
to her. The wedding guests raised their heads,
and a murmur of applause ran over the waters.
"Bravo!" cried the bridegroom. "Now at
last the tongues are loosed."
Truls's gaze dwelt with tender sadness on the
bride. Then came from the strings some airy
quivering chords, faintly flushed like the petals
of the rose, and fragrant like lilies of the valley;
and they swelled with a strong, awakening
life, and rose with a stormy fullness until they
seemed on the point of bursting, when again
they hushed themselves and sank into a low,
disconsolate whisper. Once more the tones
stretched out their arms imploringly, and again
they wrestled despairingly with themselves, fled
with a stern voice of warning, returned once
more, wept, shuddered, and were silent.
"Beware that thou dost not play with a life!"
sighed the bride, "even though it be a worthless one."
The wedding guests clapped their hands and
shouted wildly against the sky. The bride's
countenance burned with a strange feverish
glow. The fiddler arose in the prow of the
boat, his eyes flamed, he struck the strings
madly, and the air trembled with melodious
rapture. The voice of that music no living
tongue can interpret. But the bride fathomed
its meaning; her bosom labored vehemently,
her lips quivered for an instant convulsively,
and she burst into tears. A dark
suspicion shot through the bridegroom's mind.
He stared intently upon the weeping Borghild
then turned his gaze to the fiddler, who, still
regarding her, stood playing, with a half-frenzied
look and motion.
"You cursed wretch!" shrieked Syvert, and
made a leap over two benches to where Truls was
standing. It came so unexpectedly that Truls
had no time to prepare for defense; so he merely
stretched out the hand in which he held the
violin to ward off the blow which he saw was
coming; but Syvert tore the instrument from
his grasp and dashed it against the cannon, and,
as it happened, just against the touch-hole.
With a tremendous crash something black
darted through the air and a white smoke
brooded over the bridal boat. The bridegroom
stood pale and stunned. At his feet lay Borghild--
lay for a moment still, as if lifeless, then
rose on her elbows, and a dark red current
broke from her breast. The smoke scattered.
No one saw how it was done; but a moment
later Truls, the Nameless, lay kneeling at
Borghild's side.
"It WAS a worthless life, beloved," whispered
he, tenderly. "Now it is at an end."
And he lifted her up in his arms as one lifts
a beloved child, pressed a kiss on her pale lips,
and leaped into the water. Like lead they fell
into the sea. A throng of white bubbles whirled
up to the surface. A loud wail rose from
the bridal fleet, and before the day was at an
end it filled the valley; but the wail did not
recall Truls, the Nameless, or Borghild his
bride.
What life denied them, would to God that
death may yield them!
ASATHOR'S VENGEANCE.
I.
IT was right up under the steel mountain
wall where the farm of Kvaerk
lay. How any man of common sense
could have hit upon the idea of building
a house there, where none but the goat and
the hawk had easy access, had been, and I am
afraid would ever be, a matter of wonder to the
parish people. However, it was not Lage Kvaerk
who had built the house, so he could hardly be
made responsible for its situation. Moreover,
to move from a place where one's life has once
struck deep root, even if it be in the chinks and
crevices of stones and rocks, is about the same
as to destroy it. An old tree grows but poorly
in a new soil. So Lage Kvaerk thought, and so
he said, too, whenever his wife Elsie spoke of
her sunny home at the river.
Gloomy as Lage usually was, he had his
the beach and gazed out upon the calm fjord,
where the white-winged sea-birds whirled in
great airy surges around the bare crags. Far
up above the noisy throng an ospray sailed on
the blue expanse of the sky, and quick as
thought swooped down upon a halibut which
had ventured to take a peep at the rising sun.
The huge fish struggled for a moment at the
water's edge, then, with a powerful stroke of
its tail, which sent the spray hissing through
the air, dived below the surface. The bird of
prey gave a loud scream, flapped fiercely with
its broad wings, and for several minutes a
thickening cloud of applauding ducks and seagulls
and showers of spray hid the combat from
the observer's eye. When the birds scattered,
the ospray had vanished, and the waters again
glittered calmly in the morning sun. Truls
stood long, vacantly staring out upon the scene
of the conflict, and many strange thoughts
whirled through his head.
"Halloo, fiddler!" cried a couple of lads who
had come to clear the wedding boats, "you are
early on foot to-day. Here is a scoop. Come
on and help us bail the boats."
Truls took the scoop, and looked at it as if he
had never seen such a thing before; he moved
about heavily, hardly knowing what he did, but
conscious all the while of his own great misery.
His limbs seemed half frozen, and a dull pain
gathered about his head and in his breast--in
fact, everywhere and nowhere.
About ten o'clock the bridal procession
descended the slope to the fjord. Syvert Stein,
the bridegroom, trod the earth with a firm,
springy step, and spoke many a cheery word to
tho bride, who walked, silent and with downcast
eyes, at his side. She wore the ancestral
bridal crown on her head, and the little silver
disks around its edge tinkled and shook as she
walked. They hailed her with firing of guns
and loud hurrahs as she stepped into the boat;
still she did not raise her eyes, but remained
silent. A small cannon, also an heir-loom in the
family, was placed amidships, and Truls, with
his violin, took his seat in the prow. A large
solitary cloud, gold-rimmed but with thunder
in its breast, sailed across the sky and threw its
shadow over the bridal boat as it was pushed
out from the shore, and the shadow fell upon
the bride's countenance too; and when she
lifted it, the mother of the bridegroom, who sat
opposite her, shrank back, for the countenance
looked hard, as if carved in stone--in the eyes
a mute, hopelessappeal; on the lips a frozen
prayer. The shadow of thunder upon a life
that was opening--it was an ill omen, and its
gloom sank into the hearts of the wedding
guests. They spoke in undertones and threw
pitying glances at the bride. Then at length
Syvert Stein lost his patience.
"In sooth," cried he, springing up from his
seat, "where is to-day the cheer that is wont to
abide in the Norseman's breast? Methinks I
see but sullen airs and ill-boding glances. Ha,
fiddler, now move your strings lustily! None
of your funeral airs, my lad, but a merry tune
that shall sing through marrow and bone, and
make the heart leap in the bosom."
Truls heard the words, and in a slow,
mechanical way he took the violin out of its case and
raised it to his chin. Syvert in the mean while
put a huge silver beer-jug to his mouth, and,
pledging his guests, emptied it even to the
dregs. But the bride's cheek was pale; and it
was so still in the boat that every man could
hear his own breathing.
"Ha, to-day is Syvert Stein's wedding-day!"
shouted the bridegroom, growing hot with
wrath. "Let us try if the iron voice of the
cannon can wake my guests from their slumber."
He struck a match and put it to the touch-
hole of the cannon; a long boom rolled away
over the surface of the waters and startled the
echoes of the distant glaciers. A faint hurrah
sounded from the nearest craft, but there came
no response from the bridal boat. Syvert pulled
the powder-horn from his pocket, laughed a
wild laugh, and poured the whole contents of
the horn into the mouth of the cannon.
"Now may the devil care for his own," roared
he, and sprang up upon the row-bench. Then
there came a low murmuring strain as of wavelets
that ripple against a sandy shore. Borghild
lifted her eyes, and they met those of the fiddler.
"Ah, I think I should rather be your
bridegroom," whispered she, and a ray of life stole
into her stony visage.
And she saw herself as a little rosy-cheeked
girl sitting at his side on the beach fifteen years
ago. But the music gathered strength from
her glance, and onward it rushed through the
noisy years of boyhood, shouting with wanton
voice in the lonely glen, lowing with the cattle
on the mountain pastures, and leaping like the
trout at eventide in the brawling rapids; but
through it all there ran a warm strain of boyish
loyalty and strong devotion, and it thawed her
frozen heart; for she knew that it was all for
her and for her only. And it seemed such a
beautiful thing, this long faithful life, which
through sorrow and joy, through sunshine and
gloom, for better for worse, had clung so fast
to her. The wedding guests raised their heads,
and a murmur of applause ran over the waters.
"Bravo!" cried the bridegroom. "Now at
last the tongues are loosed."
Truls's gaze dwelt with tender sadness on the
bride. Then came from the strings some airy
quivering chords, faintly flushed like the petals
of the rose, and fragrant like lilies of the valley;
and they swelled with a strong, awakening
life, and rose with a stormy fullness until they
seemed on the point of bursting, when again
they hushed themselves and sank into a low,
disconsolate whisper. Once more the tones
stretched out their arms imploringly, and again
they wrestled despairingly with themselves, fled
with a stern voice of warning, returned once
more, wept, shuddered, and were silent.
"Beware that thou dost not play with a life!"
sighed the bride, "even though it be a worthless one."
The wedding guests clapped their hands and
shouted wildly against the sky. The bride's
countenance burned with a strange feverish
glow. The fiddler arose in the prow of the
boat, his eyes flamed, he struck the strings
madly, and the air trembled with melodious
rapture. The voice of that music no living
tongue can interpret. But the bride fathomed
its meaning; her bosom labored vehemently,
her lips quivered for an instant convulsively,
and she burst into tears. A dark
suspicion shot through the bridegroom's mind.
He stared intently upon the weeping Borghild
then turned his gaze to the fiddler, who, still
regarding her, stood playing, with a half-frenzied
look and motion.
"You cursed wretch!" shrieked Syvert, and
made a leap over two benches to where Truls was
standing. It came so unexpectedly that Truls
had no time to prepare for defense; so he merely
stretched out the hand in which he held the
violin to ward off the blow which he saw was
coming; but Syvert tore the instrument from
his grasp and dashed it against the cannon, and,
as it happened, just against the touch-hole.
With a tremendous crash something black
darted through the air and a white smoke
brooded over the bridal boat. The bridegroom
stood pale and stunned. At his feet lay Borghild--
lay for a moment still, as if lifeless, then
rose on her elbows, and a dark red current
broke from her breast. The smoke scattered.
No one saw how it was done; but a moment
later Truls, the Nameless, lay kneeling at
Borghild's side.
"It WAS a worthless life, beloved," whispered
he, tenderly. "Now it is at an end."
And he lifted her up in his arms as one lifts
a beloved child, pressed a kiss on her pale lips,
and leaped into the water. Like lead they fell
into the sea. A throng of white bubbles whirled
up to the surface. A loud wail rose from
the bridal fleet, and before the day was at an
end it filled the valley; but the wail did not
recall Truls, the Nameless, or Borghild his
bride.
What life denied them, would to God that
death may yield them!
ASATHOR'S VENGEANCE.
I.
IT was right up under the steel mountain
wall where the farm of Kvaerk
lay. How any man of common sense
could have hit upon the idea of building
a house there, where none but the goat and
the hawk had easy access, had been, and I am
afraid would ever be, a matter of wonder to the
parish people. However, it was not Lage Kvaerk
who had built the house, so he could hardly be
made responsible for its situation. Moreover,
to move from a place where one's life has once
struck deep root, even if it be in the chinks and
crevices of stones and rocks, is about the same
as to destroy it. An old tree grows but poorly
in a new soil. So Lage Kvaerk thought, and so
he said, too, whenever his wife Elsie spoke of
her sunny home at the river.
Gloomy as Lage usually was, he had his
- scream [skri:m]
v.&n.尖叫(声) (初中英语单词) - fiercely [´fiəsli] ad.凶猛地，残忍地 (初中英语单词)
- calmly [´kɑ:mli] ad.平静地；无风浪地 (初中英语单词)
- conflict [´kɔnflikt, kən´flikt] n.&vi.战斗；抵触 (初中英语单词)
- wedding [´wediŋ] n.婚礼，结婚 (初中英语单词)
- knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- frozen [´frəuzn] freeze 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- cannon [´kænən] n.大炮 (初中英语单词)
- countenance [´kauntinəns] n.面部表情；脸色；面容 (初中英语单词)
- thunder [´θʌndə] n.雷 vi.打雷 vt.吼出 (初中英语单词)
- funeral [´fju:nərəl] n.葬礼，丧葬；困难 (初中英语单词)
- contents [´kɔ:ntents] n.容纳物；要旨 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- lonely [´ləunli] a.孤独的；无人烟的 (初中英语单词)
- devotion [di´vəuʃən] n.献身；忠诚；热爱 (初中英语单词)
- faithful [´feiθfəl] a.忠实的；可靠的 (初中英语单词)
- sunshine [´sʌnʃain] n.日光，阳光 (初中英语单词)
- whisper [´wispə] v.耳语 n.低语；沙沙声 (初中英语单词)
- instant [´instənt] a.立即的 n.紧迫；瞬间 (初中英语单词)
- instrument [´instrumənt] n.仪器；手段；乐器 (初中英语单词)
- tremendous [tri´mendəs] a.可怕的；巨大的 (初中英语单词)
- beloved [bi´lʌvd] a.为....所爱的 n.爱人 (初中英语单词)
- valley [´væli] n.谷；河谷；流域 (初中英语单词)
- responsible [ri´spɔnsəbəl] a.尽责的；责任重大的 (初中英语单词)
- whenever [wen´evə] conj.&ad.无论何时 (初中英语单词)
- throng [θrɔŋ] n.群众 v.拥挤；群集 (高中英语单词)
- combat [´kɔmbæt] v.&n.斗争；战斗；争斗 (高中英语单词)
- hopeless [´həupləs] a.无望的，无可救药的 (高中英语单词)
- appeal [ə´pi:l] vi.&n.请求；呼吁；上诉 (高中英语单词)
- methinks [mi´θiŋks] vi.据我看来 (高中英语单词)
- sullen [´sʌlən] a.不高兴的 (高中英语单词)
- response [ri´spɔns] n.回答；响应 (高中英语单词)
- strain [strein] vt.拉紧 vi.拖 n.张力 (高中英语单词)
- ripple [´ripəl] n.涟漪 v.(使)起涟漪 (高中英语单词)
- onward [´ɔnwəd] ad.&a.向前(的) (高中英语单词)
- boyhood [´bɔihud] n.少年时代(期) (高中英语单词)
- applause [ə´plɔ:z] n.鼓掌；欢呼；称赞 (高中英语单词)
- sadness [´sædnis] n.悲哀；悲痛；凄惨 (高中英语单词)
- faintly [´feintli] ad.微弱地，软弱无力的 (高中英语单词)
- fragrant [´freigrənt] a.芳香的，芬芳的 (高中英语单词)
- worthless [´wə:θləs] a.无价值的 (高中英语单词)
- tenderly [´tendəli] ad.娇嫩地；柔和地 (高中英语单词)
- access [´ækses] n.接近；通路；进入 (高中英语单词)
- daybreak [´deibreik] n.黎明，拂晓 (英语四级单词)
- bridal [´braidl] a.&n.婚礼(的) (英语四级单词)
- bridegroom [´braidgru:m] n.新郎 (英语四级单词)
- cheery [´tʃiəri] a.愉快的；活泼的 (英语四级单词)
- violin [,vaiə´lin] n.(小)提琴 (英语四级单词)
- fullness [´fulnis] n.满；充实；彻底 (英语四级单词)
- warning [´wɔ:niŋ] n.警告；前兆 a.预告的 (英语四级单词)
- intently [in´tentli] ad.专心地 (英语四级单词)
- unexpectedly [´ʌniks´pektidli] ad.意外地；突然地 (英语四级单词)
- lifeless [´laifləs] a.无生命的，无生气的 (英语四级单词)
- expanse [ik´spæns] n.广阔；宽阔的区域 (英语六级单词)
- shrank [ʃræŋk] shrink的过去式 (英语六级单词)
- marrow [´mærəu] n.(骨)髓；精华；活力 (英语六级单词)
- weeping [´wi:piŋ] a.&n.哭泣(的) (英语六级单词)
- nameless [´neimlis] a.无名字的；无名声的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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