章节正文
not add that he had meant to ask that same question of Jan. He thrust
them among the glowing logs, first one and then the other; and the
shadows crept back into their corners.
"You will not stop and see Christina?" asked Nicholas.
"Not to-night," answered Jan.
"The paper that I signed," Nicholas reminded him--"you have it?"
"I had forgotten it," Jan answered.
The old man took it from the desk and handed it to him. Jan thrust it
into his pocket and went out. Nicholas bolted the door behind him and
returned to his desk; sat long there, his elbow resting on the open
ledger.
Nicholas pushed the ledger aside and laughed. "What foolery! As if
such things could be! The fellow must have bewitched me."
Nicholas crossed to the fire and warmed his hands before the blaze.
"Still, I am glad he is going to marry the little lass. A good lad, a
good lad."
Nicholas must have fallen asleep before the fire. When he opened his
eyes, it was to meet the grey dawn. He felt cold, stiff, hungry, and
decidedly cross. Why had not Christina woke him up and given him his
supper. Did she think he had intended to pass the night on a wooden
chair? The girl was an idiot. He would go upstairs and tell her
through the door just what he thought of her.
His way upstairs led through the kitchen. To his astonishment, there
sat Christina, asleep before the burnt-out grate.
"Upon my word," muttered Nicholas to himself, "people in this house
don't seem to know what beds are for!"
But it was not Christina, so Nicholas told himself. Christina had the
look of a frightened rabbit: it had always irritated him. This girl,
even in her sleep, wore an impertinent expression--a delightfully
impertinent expression. Besides, this girl was pretty--marvellously
pretty. Indeed, so pretty a girl Nicholas had never seen in all his
life before. Why had the girls, when Nicholas was young, been so
entirely different! A sudden bitterness seized Nicholas: it was as
though he had just learnt that long ago, without knowing it, he had
been robbed.
The child must be cold. Nicholas fetched his fur-lined cloak and
wrapped it about her.
There was something else he ought to do. The idea came to him while
drawing the cloak around her shoulders, very gently, not to disturb
her--something he wanted to do, if only he could think what it was.
The girl's lips were parted. She appeared to be speaking to him,
asking him to do this thing--or telling him not to do it. Nicholas
could not be sure which. Half a dozen times he turned away, and half
a dozen times stole back to where she sat sleeping with that
delightfully impertinent expression on her face, her lips parted. But
what she wanted, or what it was he wanted, Nicholas could not think.
Perhaps Christina would know. Perhaps Christina would know who she
was and how she got there. Nicholas climbed the stairs, swearing at
them for creaking.
Christina's door was open. No one was in the room; the bed had not
been slept upon. Nicholas descended the creaking stairs.
The girl was still asleep. Could it be Christina herself? Nicholas
examined the delicious features one by one. Never before, so far as
he could recollect, had he seen the girl; yet around her
neck--Nicholas had not noticed it before--lay Christina's locket,
rising and falling as she breathed. Nicholas knew it well; the one
thing belonging to her mother Christina had insisted on keeping. The
one thing about which she had ever defied him. She would never have
parted with that locket. It must be Christina herself. But what had
happened to her? Or to himself. Remembrance rushed in upon him. The
odd pedlar! The scene with Jan! But surely all that had been a
dream? Yet there upon the littered desk still stood the pedlar's
silver flask, together with the twin stained glasses.
Nicholas tried to think, but his brain was in a whirl. A ray of
sunshine streaming through the window fell across the dusty room.
Nicholas had never seen the sun, that he could recollect.
Involuntarily he stretched his hands towards it, felt a pang of grief
when it vanished, leaving only the grey light. He drew the rusty
bolts, flung open the great door. A strange world lay before him, a
new world of lights and shadows, that wooed him with their beauty--a
world of low, soft voices that called to him. There came to him again
that bitter sense of having been robbed.
"I could have been so happy all these years," murmured old Nicholas to
himself. "It is just the little town I could have loved--so quaint,
so quiet, so homelike. I might have had friends, old cronies,
children of my own maybe--"
A vision of the sleeping Christina flashed before his eyes. She had
come to him a child, feeling only gratitude towards him. Had he had
eyes with which to see her, all things might have been different.
Was it too late? He is not so old--not so very old. New life is in
his veins. She still loves Jan, but that was the Jan of yesterday.
In the future, Jan's every word and deed will be prompted by the evil
soul that was once the soul of Nicholas Snyders--that Nicholas Snyders
remembers well. Can any woman love that, let the case be as handsome
as you will?
Ought he, as an honest man, to keep the soul he had won from Jan by
what might be called a trick? Yes, it had been a fair bargain, and
Jan had taken his price. Besides, it was not as if Jan had fashioned
his own soul; these things are chance. Why should one man be given
gold, and another be given parched peas? He has as much right to
Jan's soul as Jan ever had. He is wiser, he can do more good with it.
It was Jan's soul that loved Christina; let Jan's soul win her if it
can. And Jan's soul, listening to the argument, could not think of a
word to offer in opposition.
Christina was still asleep when Nicholas re-entered the kitchen. He
lighted the fire and cooked the breakfast and then aroused her gently.
There was no doubt it was Christina. The moment her eyes rested on
old Nicholas, there came back to her the frightened rabbit look that
had always irritated him. It irritated him now, but the irritation
was against himself.
"You were sleeping so soundly when I came in last night--" Christina
commenced.
"And you were afraid to wake me," Nicholas interrupted her. "You
thought the old curmudgeon would be cross. Listen, Christina. You
paid off yesterday the last debt your father owed. It was to an old
sailor--I had not been able to find him before. Not a cent more do
you owe, and there remains to you, out of your wages, a hundred
florins. It is yours whenever you like to ask me for it."
Christina could not understand, neither then nor during the days that
followed; nor did Nicholas enlighten her. For the soul of Jan had
entered into a very wise old man, who knew that the best way to live
down the past is to live boldly the present. All that Christina could
be sure of was that the old Nicholas Snyders had mysteriously
vanished, that in his place remained a new Nicholas, who looked at her
with kindly eyes--frank and honest, compelling confidence. Though
Nicholas never said so, it came to Christina that she herself, her
sweet example, her ennobling influence it was that had wrought this
wondrous change. And to Christina the explanation seemed not
impossible--seemed even pleasing.
The sight of his littered desk was hateful to him. Starting early in
the morning, Nicholas would disappear for the entire day, returning in
the evening tired but cheerful, bringing with him flowers that
Christina laughed at, telling him they were weeds. But what mattered
names? To Nicholas they were beautiful. In Zandam the children ran
from him, the dogs barked after him. So Nicholas, escaping through
byways, would wander far into the country. Children in the villages
around came to know a kind old fellow who loved to linger, his hands
resting on his staff, watching their play, listening to their
laughter; whose ample pockets were storehouses of good things. Their
elders, passing by, would whisper to one another how like he was in
features to wicked old Nick, the miser of Zandam, and would wonder
where he came from. Nor was it only the faces of the children that
taught his lips to smile. It troubled him at first to find the world
so full of marvellously pretty girls--of pretty women also, all more
or less lovable. It bewildered him. Until he found that,
notwithstanding, Christina remained always in his thoughts the
prettiest, the most lovable of them all. Then every pretty face
rejoiced him: it reminded him of Christina.
On his return the second day, Christina had met him with sadness in
her eyes. Farmer Beerstraater, an old friend of her father's, had
called to see Nicholas; not finding Nicholas, had talked a little with
Christina. A hardhearted creditor was turning him out of his farm.
Christina pretended not to know that the creditor was Nicholas
himself, but marvelled that such wicked men could be. Nicholas said
nothing, but the next day Farmer Beerstraater had called again, all
smiles, blessings, and great wonder.
"But what can have come to him?" repeated Farmer Beerstraater over and
over.
Christina had smiled and answered that perhaps the good God had
touched his heart; but thought to herself that perhaps it had been the
good influence of another. The tale flew. Christina found herself
besieged on every hand, and, finding her intercessions invariably
successful, grew day by day more pleased with herself, and by
consequence more pleased with Nicholas Snyders. For Nicholas was a
cunning old gentleman. Jan's soul in him took delight in undoing the
evil the soul of Nicholas had wrought. But the brain of Nicholas
Snyders that remained to him whispered: "Let the little maid think it
is all her doing."
The news reached the ears of Dame Toelast. The same evening saw her
seated in the inglenook opposite Nicholas Snyders, who smoked and
seemed bored.
"You are making a fool of yourself, Nicholas Snyders," the Dame told
him. "Everybody is laughing at you."
"I had rather they laughed than cursed me," growled Nicholas.
"Have you forgotten all that has passed between us?" demanded the
Dame.
"Wish I could," sighed Nicholas.
"At your age--" commenced the Dame.
"I am feeling younger than I ever felt in all my life," Nicholas
interrupted her.
"You don't look it," commented the Dame.
"What do looks matter?" snapped Nicholas. "It is the soul of a man
that is the real man."
"They count for something, as the world goes," explained the Dame.
"Why, if I liked to follow your example and make a fool of myself,
there are young men, fine young men, handsome young men--"
"Don't let me stand in your way," interposed Nicholas quickly. "As
you say, I am old and I have a devil of a temper. There must be many
better men than I am, men more worthy of you."
"I don't say there are not," returned the Dame: "but nobody more
suitable. Girls for boys, and old women for old men. I haven't lost
my wits, Nicholas Snyders, if you have. When you are yourself
again--"
Nicholas Snyders sprang to his feet. "I am myself," he cried, "and
intend to remain myself! Who dares say I am not myself?"
"I do," retorted the Dame with exasperating coolness." Nicholas
Snyders is not himself when at the bidding of a pretty-faced doll he
flings his money out of the window with both hands. He is a creature
bewitched, and I am sorry for him. She'll fool you for the sake of
her friends till you haven't a cent left, and then she'll laugh at
you. When you are yourself, Nicholas Snyders, you will be crazy with
yourself--remember that." And Dame Toelast marched out and slammed
the door behind her.
"Girls for boys, and old women for old men." The phrase kept ringing
in his ears. Hitherto his new-found happiness had filled his life,
leaving no room for thought. But the old Dame's words had sown the
seed of reflection.
Was Christina fooling him? The thought was impossible. Never once
had she pleaded for herself, never once for Jan. The evil thought was
the creature of Dame Toelast's evil mind. Christina loved him. Her
face brightened at his coming. The fear of him had gone out of her; a
them among the glowing logs, first one and then the other; and the
shadows crept back into their corners.
"You will not stop and see Christina?" asked Nicholas.
"Not to-night," answered Jan.
"The paper that I signed," Nicholas reminded him--"you have it?"
"I had forgotten it," Jan answered.
The old man took it from the desk and handed it to him. Jan thrust it
into his pocket and went out. Nicholas bolted the door behind him and
returned to his desk; sat long there, his elbow resting on the open
ledger.
Nicholas pushed the ledger aside and laughed. "What foolery! As if
such things could be! The fellow must have bewitched me."
Nicholas crossed to the fire and warmed his hands before the blaze.
"Still, I am glad he is going to marry the little lass. A good lad, a
good lad."
Nicholas must have fallen asleep before the fire. When he opened his
eyes, it was to meet the grey dawn. He felt cold, stiff, hungry, and
decidedly cross. Why had not Christina woke him up and given him his
supper. Did she think he had intended to pass the night on a wooden
chair? The girl was an idiot. He would go upstairs and tell her
through the door just what he thought of her.
His way upstairs led through the kitchen. To his astonishment, there
sat Christina, asleep before the burnt-out grate.
"Upon my word," muttered Nicholas to himself, "people in this house
don't seem to know what beds are for!"
But it was not Christina, so Nicholas told himself. Christina had the
look of a frightened rabbit: it had always irritated him. This girl,
even in her sleep, wore an impertinent expression--a delightfully
impertinent expression. Besides, this girl was pretty--marvellously
pretty. Indeed, so pretty a girl Nicholas had never seen in all his
life before. Why had the girls, when Nicholas was young, been so
entirely different! A sudden bitterness seized Nicholas: it was as
though he had just learnt that long ago, without knowing it, he had
been robbed.
The child must be cold. Nicholas fetched his fur-lined cloak and
wrapped it about her.
There was something else he ought to do. The idea came to him while
drawing the cloak around her shoulders, very gently, not to disturb
her--something he wanted to do, if only he could think what it was.
The girl's lips were parted. She appeared to be speaking to him,
asking him to do this thing--or telling him not to do it. Nicholas
could not be sure which. Half a dozen times he turned away, and half
a dozen times stole back to where she sat sleeping with that
delightfully impertinent expression on her face, her lips parted. But
what she wanted, or what it was he wanted, Nicholas could not think.
Perhaps Christina would know. Perhaps Christina would know who she
was and how she got there. Nicholas climbed the stairs, swearing at
them for creaking.
Christina's door was open. No one was in the room; the bed had not
been slept upon. Nicholas descended the creaking stairs.
The girl was still asleep. Could it be Christina herself? Nicholas
examined the delicious features one by one. Never before, so far as
he could recollect, had he seen the girl; yet around her
neck--Nicholas had not noticed it before--lay Christina's locket,
rising and falling as she breathed. Nicholas knew it well; the one
thing belonging to her mother Christina had insisted on keeping. The
one thing about which she had ever defied him. She would never have
parted with that locket. It must be Christina herself. But what had
happened to her? Or to himself. Remembrance rushed in upon him. The
odd pedlar! The scene with Jan! But surely all that had been a
dream? Yet there upon the littered desk still stood the pedlar's
silver flask, together with the twin stained glasses.
Nicholas tried to think, but his brain was in a whirl. A ray of
sunshine streaming through the window fell across the dusty room.
Nicholas had never seen the sun, that he could recollect.
Involuntarily he stretched his hands towards it, felt a pang of grief
when it vanished, leaving only the grey light. He drew the rusty
bolts, flung open the great door. A strange world lay before him, a
new world of lights and shadows, that wooed him with their beauty--a
world of low, soft voices that called to him. There came to him again
that bitter sense of having been robbed.
"I could have been so happy all these years," murmured old Nicholas to
himself. "It is just the little town I could have loved--so quaint,
so quiet, so homelike. I might have had friends, old cronies,
children of my own maybe--"
A vision of the sleeping Christina flashed before his eyes. She had
come to him a child, feeling only gratitude towards him. Had he had
eyes with which to see her, all things might have been different.
Was it too late? He is not so old--not so very old. New life is in
his veins. She still loves Jan, but that was the Jan of yesterday.
In the future, Jan's every word and deed will be prompted by the evil
soul that was once the soul of Nicholas Snyders--that Nicholas Snyders
remembers well. Can any woman love that, let the case be as handsome
as you will?
Ought he, as an honest man, to keep the soul he had won from Jan by
what might be called a trick? Yes, it had been a fair bargain, and
Jan had taken his price. Besides, it was not as if Jan had fashioned
his own soul; these things are chance. Why should one man be given
gold, and another be given parched peas? He has as much right to
Jan's soul as Jan ever had. He is wiser, he can do more good with it.
It was Jan's soul that loved Christina; let Jan's soul win her if it
can. And Jan's soul, listening to the argument, could not think of a
word to offer in opposition.
Christina was still asleep when Nicholas re-entered the kitchen. He
lighted the fire and cooked the breakfast and then aroused her gently.
There was no doubt it was Christina. The moment her eyes rested on
old Nicholas, there came back to her the frightened rabbit look that
had always irritated him. It irritated him now, but the irritation
was against himself.
"You were sleeping so soundly when I came in last night--" Christina
commenced.
"And you were afraid to wake me," Nicholas interrupted her. "You
thought the old curmudgeon would be cross. Listen, Christina. You
paid off yesterday the last debt your father owed. It was to an old
sailor--I had not been able to find him before. Not a cent more do
you owe, and there remains to you, out of your wages, a hundred
florins. It is yours whenever you like to ask me for it."
Christina could not understand, neither then nor during the days that
followed; nor did Nicholas enlighten her. For the soul of Jan had
entered into a very wise old man, who knew that the best way to live
down the past is to live boldly the present. All that Christina could
be sure of was that the old Nicholas Snyders had mysteriously
vanished, that in his place remained a new Nicholas, who looked at her
with kindly eyes--frank and honest, compelling confidence. Though
Nicholas never said so, it came to Christina that she herself, her
sweet example, her ennobling influence it was that had wrought this
wondrous change. And to Christina the explanation seemed not
impossible--seemed even pleasing.
The sight of his littered desk was hateful to him. Starting early in
the morning, Nicholas would disappear for the entire day, returning in
the evening tired but cheerful, bringing with him flowers that
Christina laughed at, telling him they were weeds. But what mattered
names? To Nicholas they were beautiful. In Zandam the children ran
from him, the dogs barked after him. So Nicholas, escaping through
byways, would wander far into the country. Children in the villages
around came to know a kind old fellow who loved to linger, his hands
resting on his staff, watching their play, listening to their
laughter; whose ample pockets were storehouses of good things. Their
elders, passing by, would whisper to one another how like he was in
features to wicked old Nick, the miser of Zandam, and would wonder
where he came from. Nor was it only the faces of the children that
taught his lips to smile. It troubled him at first to find the world
so full of marvellously pretty girls--of pretty women also, all more
or less lovable. It bewildered him. Until he found that,
notwithstanding, Christina remained always in his thoughts the
prettiest, the most lovable of them all. Then every pretty face
rejoiced him: it reminded him of Christina.
On his return the second day, Christina had met him with sadness in
her eyes. Farmer Beerstraater, an old friend of her father's, had
called to see Nicholas; not finding Nicholas, had talked a little with
Christina. A hardhearted creditor was turning him out of his farm.
Christina pretended not to know that the creditor was Nicholas
himself, but marvelled that such wicked men could be. Nicholas said
nothing, but the next day Farmer Beerstraater had called again, all
smiles, blessings, and great wonder.
"But what can have come to him?" repeated Farmer Beerstraater over and
over.
Christina had smiled and answered that perhaps the good God had
touched his heart; but thought to herself that perhaps it had been the
good influence of another. The tale flew. Christina found herself
besieged on every hand, and, finding her intercessions invariably
successful, grew day by day more pleased with herself, and by
consequence more pleased with Nicholas Snyders. For Nicholas was a
cunning old gentleman. Jan's soul in him took delight in undoing the
evil the soul of Nicholas had wrought. But the brain of Nicholas
Snyders that remained to him whispered: "Let the little maid think it
is all her doing."
The news reached the ears of Dame Toelast. The same evening saw her
seated in the inglenook opposite Nicholas Snyders, who smoked and
seemed bored.
"You are making a fool of yourself, Nicholas Snyders," the Dame told
him. "Everybody is laughing at you."
"I had rather they laughed than cursed me," growled Nicholas.
"Have you forgotten all that has passed between us?" demanded the
Dame.
"Wish I could," sighed Nicholas.
"At your age--" commenced the Dame.
"I am feeling younger than I ever felt in all my life," Nicholas
interrupted her.
"You don't look it," commented the Dame.
"What do looks matter?" snapped Nicholas. "It is the soul of a man
that is the real man."
"They count for something, as the world goes," explained the Dame.
"Why, if I liked to follow your example and make a fool of myself,
there are young men, fine young men, handsome young men--"
"Don't let me stand in your way," interposed Nicholas quickly. "As
you say, I am old and I have a devil of a temper. There must be many
better men than I am, men more worthy of you."
"I don't say there are not," returned the Dame: "but nobody more
suitable. Girls for boys, and old women for old men. I haven't lost
my wits, Nicholas Snyders, if you have. When you are yourself
again--"
Nicholas Snyders sprang to his feet. "I am myself," he cried, "and
intend to remain myself! Who dares say I am not myself?"
"I do," retorted the Dame with exasperating coolness." Nicholas
Snyders is not himself when at the bidding of a pretty-faced doll he
flings his money out of the window with both hands. He is a creature
bewitched, and I am sorry for him. She'll fool you for the sake of
her friends till you haven't a cent left, and then she'll laugh at
you. When you are yourself, Nicholas Snyders, you will be crazy with
yourself--remember that." And Dame Toelast marched out and slammed
the door behind her.
"Girls for boys, and old women for old men." The phrase kept ringing
in his ears. Hitherto his new-found happiness had filled his life,
leaving no room for thought. But the old Dame's words had sown the
seed of reflection.
Was Christina fooling him? The thought was impossible. Never once
had she pleaded for herself, never once for Jan. The evil thought was
the creature of Dame Toelast's evil mind. Christina loved him. Her
face brightened at his coming. The fear of him had gone out of her; a
- thrust [θrʌst]
v.&n.猛推；冲；刺；挤进 (初中英语单词) - astonishment [ə´stɔniʃmənt] n.吃惊；惊异 (初中英语单词)
- rabbit [´ræbit] n.兔子，野兔 (初中英语单词)
- learnt [lə:nt] learn 的过去式(分词) (初中英语单词)
- knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- gently [´dʒentli] ad.温和地；静静地 (初中英语单词)
- sleeping [´sli:piŋ] n.&a.睡着(的) (初中英语单词)
- delicious [di´liʃəs] a.美味的，可口的 (初中英语单词)
- vision [´viʒən] n.视觉；想象力；幻影 (初中英语单词)
- gratitude [´grætitju:d] n.感激，感谢 (初中英语单词)
- bargain [´bɑ:gin] n.买卖合同 v.议(价) (初中英语单词)
- argument [´ɑ:gjumənt] n.辩论；争论；论证 (初中英语单词)
- yesterday [´jestədi] n.&ad.昨天；前不久 (初中英语单词)
- whenever [wen´evə] conj.&ad.无论何时 (初中英语单词)
- wrought [rɔ:t] work 的过去式(分词) (初中英语单词)
- explanation [,eksplə´neiʃən] n.解释；说明；辩解 (初中英语单词)
- cheerful [´tʃiəful] a.快乐的；高兴的 (初中英语单词)
- wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- linger [´liŋgə] v.逗留；留恋；拖延 (初中英语单词)
- whisper [´wispə] v.耳语 n.低语；沙沙声 (初中英语单词)
- wicked [´wikid] a.邪恶的；不道德的 (初中英语单词)
- temper [´tempə] n.韧度 v.锻炼；调和 (初中英语单词)
- worthy [´wə:ði] a.有价值的；值得的 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- phrase [freiz] n.短语；词组；措词 (初中英语单词)
- bitterness [´bitənis] n.苦味；辛酸；苦难 (高中英语单词)
- remembrance [ri´membrəns] n.记忆(力)；回忆 (高中英语单词)
- boldly [´bəuldli] ad.大胆地；醒目地 (高中英语单词)
- sadness [´sædnis] n.悲哀；悲痛；凄惨 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- creditor [´kreditə] n.债权人；贷方；贷项 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- hitherto [,hiðə´tu:] ad.至今，迄今 (高中英语单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- recollect [rekə´lekt] v.重新集合；恢复 (英语四级单词)
- enlighten [in´laitn] vt.启发，开导 (英语四级单词)
- hateful [´heitfəl] a.可恨的，可憎的 (英语四级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
- lovable [´lʌvəbəl] a.可爱的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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