章节正文
better than the rest of the cheniere people;--he acted as
interpreter whenever Feliu found any difficulty in comprehending
or answering questions; and he told them of the child rescued
that wild morning, and of Feliu's swim. His recital evoked a
murmur of interest and excitement, followed by a confusion of
questions. Well, they could see for themselves, Feliu said; but
he hoped they would have a little patience;--the child was still
weak;--it might be dangerous to startle her. "We'll arrange it
just as you like, " responded the captain;--"go ahead, Feliu!"
...
All proceeded to the house, under the great trees; Feliu and
Captain Harris leading the way. It was sultry and bright;--even
the sea-breeze was warm; there were pleasant odors in the shade,
and a soporific murmur made of leaf-speech and the hum of gnats.
Only the captain entered the house with Feliu; the rest remained
without--some taking seats on a rude plank bench under the
oaks--others flinging themselves down upon the weeds--a few stood
still, leaning upon their rifles. Then Carmen came out to them
with gourds and a bucket of fresh water, which all were glad to
drink.
They waited many minutes. Perhaps it was the cool peace of the
place that made them all feel how hot and tired they were:
conversation flagged; and the general languor finally betrayed
itself in a silence so absolute that every leaf-whisper seemed to
become separately audible.
It was broken at last by the guttural voice of the old captain
emerging from the cottage, leading the child by the hand, and
followed by Carmen and Feliu. All who had been resting rose up
and looked at the child.
Standing in a lighted space, with one tiny hand enveloped by the
captain's great brown fist, she looked so lovely that a general
exclamation of surprise went up. Her bright hair, loose and
steeped in the sun-flame, illuminated her like a halo; and her
large dark eyes, gentle and melancholy as a deer's, watched the
strange faces before her with shy curiosity. She wore the same
dress in which Feliu had found her--a soft white fabric of
muslin, with trimmings of ribbon that had once been blue; and the
now discolored silken scarf, which had twice done her such brave
service, was thrown over her shoulders. Carmen had washed and
repaired the dress very creditably; but the tiny slim feet were
bare,--the brine-soaked shoes she wore that fearful night had
fallen into shreds at the first attempt to remove them.
--"Gentlemen, " said Captain Harris,--"we can find no clew to the
identity of this child. There is no mark upon her clothing; and
she wore nothing in the shape of jewelry--except this string of
coral beads. We are nearly all Americans here; and she does not
speak any English ... Does any one here know anything about her?"
Carmen felt a great sinking at her heart: was her new-found
darling to be taken so soon from her? But no answer came to the
captain's query. No one of the expedition had ever seen that
child before. The coral beads were passed from hand to hand; the
scarf was minutely scrutinized without avail. Somebody asked if
the child could not talk German or Italian.
--"Italiano? No!" said Feliu, shaking his head.... One of his
luggermen, Gioachino Sparicio, who, though a Sicilian, could
speak several Italian idioms besides his own, had already
essayed.
--"She speaks something or other," answered the captain--"but no
English. I couldn't make her understand me; and Feliu, who talks
nearly all the infernal languages spoken down this way, says he
can't make her understand him. Suppose some of you who know
French talk to her a bit ... Laroussel, why don't you try?"
The young man addressed did not at first seem to notice the
captain's suggestion. He was a tall, lithe fellow, with a dark,
positive face: he had never removed his black gaze from the
child since the moment of her appearance. Her eyes, too, seemed
to be all for him--to return his scrutiny with a sort of vague
pleasure, a half savage confidence ... Was it the first embryonic
feeling of race-affinity quickening in the little brain?--some
intuitive, inexplicable sense of kindred? She shrank from Doctor
Hecker, who addressed her in German, shook her head at Lawyer
Solari, who tried to make her answer in Italian; and her look
always went back plaintively to the dark, sinister face of
Laroussel,--Laroussel who had calmly taken a human life, a wicked
human life, only the evening before.
--"Laroussel, you're the only Creole in this crowd," said the
captain; "talk to her! Talk gumbo to her! ... I've no doubt this
child knows German very well, and Italian too,"--he added,
maliciously--"but not in the way you gentlemen pronounce it!"
Laroussel handed his rifle to a friend, crouched down before the
little girl, and looked into her face, and smiled. Her great
sweet orbs shone into his one moment, seriously, as if
searching; and then ... she returned his smile. It seemed to
touch something latent within the man, something rare; for his
whole expression changed; and there was a caress in his look and
voice none of the men could have believed possible--as he
exclaimed:--
--"Fais moin bo, piti."
She pouted up her pretty lips and kissed his black moustache.
He spoke to her again:--
--"Dis moin to nom, piti;--dis moin to nom, chere."
Then, for the first time, she spoke, answering in her argent
treble:
--"Zouzoune."
All held their breath. Captain Harris lifted his finger to his
lips to command silence.
--"Zouzoune? Zouzoune qui, chere?"
--"Zouzoune, a c'est moin, Lili!"
--"C'est pas tout to nom, Lili;--dis moin, chere, to laut nom."
--"Mo pas connin laut nom. "
--"Comment ye te pele to maman, piti?"
--"Maman,--Maman 'Dele."
--"Et comment ye te pele to papa, chere?"
--"Papa Zulien."
--"Bon! Et comment to maman te pele to papa?--dis ca a moin,
chere?"
The child looked down, put a finger in her mouth, thought a
moment, and replied:--
--"Li pele li, 'Cheri'; li pele li, 'Papoute.'"
--"Aie, aie!--c'est tout, ca?--to maman te jamain pele li daut'
chose?"
--"Mo pas connin, moin."
She began to play with some trinkets attached to his watch
chain;--a very small gold compass especially impressed her fancy
by the trembling and flashing of its tiny needle, and she
murmured, coaxingly:--
--"Mo oule ca! Donnin ca a moin."
He took all possible advantage of the situation, and replied at
once:--
-- "Oui! mo va donnin toi ca si to di moin to laut nom."
The splendid bribe evidently impressed her greatly; for tears
rose to the brown eyes as she answered:
-- "Mo pas capab di' ca;--mo pas capab di' laut nom ... Mo oule;
mo pas capab!"
Laroussel explained. The child's name was Lili,--perhaps a
contraction of Eulalie; and her pet Creole name Zouzoune. He
thought she must be the daughter of wealthy people; but she could
not, for some reason or other, tell her family name. Perhaps she
could not pronounce it well, and was afraid of being laughed at:
some of the old French names were very hard for Creole children
to pronounce, so long as the little ones were indulged in the
habit of talking the patois; and after a certain age their
mispronunciations would be made fun of in order to accustom them
to abandon the idiom of the slave-nurses, and to speak only
French. Perhaps, again, she was really unable to recall the
name: certain memories might have been blurred in the delicate
brain by the shock of that terrible night. She said her mother's
name was Adele, and her father's Julien; but these were very
common names in Louisiana,--and could afford scarcely any better
clew than the innocent statement that her mother used to address
her father as "dear" (Cheri),--or with the Creole diminutive
"little papa" (Papoute). Then Laroussel tried to reach a clew in
other ways, without success. He asked her about where she
lived,--what the place was like; and she told him about fig-trees
in a court, and galleries, and banquettes, and spoke of a
faubou',--without being able to name any street. He asked her
what her father used to do, and was assured that he did
everything--that there was nothing he could not do. Divine
absurdity of childish faith!--infinite artlessness of childish
love! ... Probably the little girl's parents had been residents
of New Orleans--dwellers of the old colonial quarter,--the
faubourg, the faubou'.
-- "Well, gentlemen," said Captain Harris, as Laroussel abandoned
his cross-examination in despair,--"all we can do now is to make
inquiries. I suppose we'd better leave the child here. She is
very weak yet, and in no condition to be taken to the city, right
in the middle of the hot season; and nobody could care for her
any better than she's being cared for here. Then, again, seems
to me that as Feliu saved her life,--and that at the risk of his
own,--he's got the prior claim, anyhow; and his wife is just
crazy about the child--wants to adopt her. If we can find her
relatives so much the better; but I say, gentlemen, let them come
right here to Feliu, themselves, and thank him as he ought to be
thanked, by God! That's just what I think about it."
Carmen understood the little speech;--all the Spanish charm of
her youth had faded out years before; but in the one swift look
of gratitude she turned upon the captain, it seemed to blossom
again;--for that quick moment, she was beautiful.
"The captain is quite right," observed Dr. Hecker: "it would be
very dangerous to take the child away just now. "There was no
dissent.
--"All correct, boys?" asked the captain ... "Well, we've got to
be going. By-by, Zouzoune!"
But Zouzoune burst into tears. Laroussel was going too!
--"Give her the thing, Laroussel! she gave you a kiss,
anyhow--more than she'd do for me," cried the captain.
Laroussel turned, detached the little compass from his watch
chain, and gave it to her. She held up her pretty face for his
farewell kiss ...
VI.
But it seemed fated that Feliu's waif should never be
identified;--diligent inquiry and printed announcements alike
proved fruitless. Sea and sand had either hidden or effaced all
the records of the little world they had engulfed: the
annihilation of whole families, the extinction of races, had, in
more than one instance, rendered vain all efforts to recognize
the dead. It required the subtle perception of long intimacy to
name remains tumefied and discolored by corruption and exposure,
mangled and gnawed by fishes, by reptiles, and by birds;--it
demanded the great courage of love to look upon the eyeless faces
found sweltering in the blackness of cypress-shadows, under the
low palmettoes of the swamps,--where gorged buzzards started from
sleep, or cottonmouths uncoiled, hissing, at the coming of the
searchers. And sometimes all who had loved the lost were
themselves among the missing. The full roll call of names could
never be made out; extraordinary mistakes were committed. Men
whom the world deemed dead and buried came back, like ghosts,--to
read their own epitaphs.
... Almost at the same hour that Laroussel was questioning the
child in Creole patois, another expedition, searching for bodies
along the coast, discovered on the beach of a low islet famed as
interpreter whenever Feliu found any difficulty in comprehending
or answering questions; and he told them of the child rescued
that wild morning, and of Feliu's swim. His recital evoked a
murmur of interest and excitement, followed by a confusion of
questions. Well, they could see for themselves, Feliu said; but
he hoped they would have a little patience;--the child was still
weak;--it might be dangerous to startle her. "We'll arrange it
just as you like, " responded the captain;--"go ahead, Feliu!"
...
All proceeded to the house, under the great trees; Feliu and
Captain Harris leading the way. It was sultry and bright;--even
the sea-breeze was warm; there were pleasant odors in the shade,
and a soporific murmur made of leaf-speech and the hum of gnats.
Only the captain entered the house with Feliu; the rest remained
without--some taking seats on a rude plank bench under the
oaks--others flinging themselves down upon the weeds--a few stood
still, leaning upon their rifles. Then Carmen came out to them
with gourds and a bucket of fresh water, which all were glad to
drink.
They waited many minutes. Perhaps it was the cool peace of the
place that made them all feel how hot and tired they were:
conversation flagged; and the general languor finally betrayed
itself in a silence so absolute that every leaf-whisper seemed to
become separately audible.
It was broken at last by the guttural voice of the old captain
emerging from the cottage, leading the child by the hand, and
followed by Carmen and Feliu. All who had been resting rose up
and looked at the child.
Standing in a lighted space, with one tiny hand enveloped by the
captain's great brown fist, she looked so lovely that a general
exclamation of surprise went up. Her bright hair, loose and
steeped in the sun-flame, illuminated her like a halo; and her
large dark eyes, gentle and melancholy as a deer's, watched the
strange faces before her with shy curiosity. She wore the same
dress in which Feliu had found her--a soft white fabric of
muslin, with trimmings of ribbon that had once been blue; and the
now discolored silken scarf, which had twice done her such brave
service, was thrown over her shoulders. Carmen had washed and
repaired the dress very creditably; but the tiny slim feet were
bare,--the brine-soaked shoes she wore that fearful night had
fallen into shreds at the first attempt to remove them.
--"Gentlemen, " said Captain Harris,--"we can find no clew to the
identity of this child. There is no mark upon her clothing; and
she wore nothing in the shape of jewelry--except this string of
coral beads. We are nearly all Americans here; and she does not
speak any English ... Does any one here know anything about her?"
Carmen felt a great sinking at her heart: was her new-found
darling to be taken so soon from her? But no answer came to the
captain's query. No one of the expedition had ever seen that
child before. The coral beads were passed from hand to hand; the
scarf was minutely scrutinized without avail. Somebody asked if
the child could not talk German or Italian.
--"Italiano? No!" said Feliu, shaking his head.... One of his
luggermen, Gioachino Sparicio, who, though a Sicilian, could
speak several Italian idioms besides his own, had already
essayed.
--"She speaks something or other," answered the captain--"but no
English. I couldn't make her understand me; and Feliu, who talks
nearly all the infernal languages spoken down this way, says he
can't make her understand him. Suppose some of you who know
French talk to her a bit ... Laroussel, why don't you try?"
The young man addressed did not at first seem to notice the
captain's suggestion. He was a tall, lithe fellow, with a dark,
positive face: he had never removed his black gaze from the
child since the moment of her appearance. Her eyes, too, seemed
to be all for him--to return his scrutiny with a sort of vague
pleasure, a half savage confidence ... Was it the first embryonic
feeling of race-affinity quickening in the little brain?--some
intuitive, inexplicable sense of kindred? She shrank from Doctor
Hecker, who addressed her in German, shook her head at Lawyer
Solari, who tried to make her answer in Italian; and her look
always went back plaintively to the dark, sinister face of
Laroussel,--Laroussel who had calmly taken a human life, a wicked
human life, only the evening before.
--"Laroussel, you're the only Creole in this crowd," said the
captain; "talk to her! Talk gumbo to her! ... I've no doubt this
child knows German very well, and Italian too,"--he added,
maliciously--"but not in the way you gentlemen pronounce it!"
Laroussel handed his rifle to a friend, crouched down before the
little girl, and looked into her face, and smiled. Her great
sweet orbs shone into his one moment, seriously, as if
searching; and then ... she returned his smile. It seemed to
touch something latent within the man, something rare; for his
whole expression changed; and there was a caress in his look and
voice none of the men could have believed possible--as he
exclaimed:--
--"Fais moin bo, piti."
She pouted up her pretty lips and kissed his black moustache.
He spoke to her again:--
--"Dis moin to nom, piti;--dis moin to nom, chere."
Then, for the first time, she spoke, answering in her argent
treble:
--"Zouzoune."
All held their breath. Captain Harris lifted his finger to his
lips to command silence.
--"Zouzoune? Zouzoune qui, chere?"
--"Zouzoune, a c'est moin, Lili!"
--"C'est pas tout to nom, Lili;--dis moin, chere, to laut nom."
--"Mo pas connin laut nom. "
--"Comment ye te pele to maman, piti?"
--"Maman,--Maman 'Dele."
--"Et comment ye te pele to papa, chere?"
--"Papa Zulien."
--"Bon! Et comment to maman te pele to papa?--dis ca a moin,
chere?"
The child looked down, put a finger in her mouth, thought a
moment, and replied:--
--"Li pele li, 'Cheri'; li pele li, 'Papoute.'"
--"Aie, aie!--c'est tout, ca?--to maman te jamain pele li daut'
chose?"
--"Mo pas connin, moin."
She began to play with some trinkets attached to his watch
chain;--a very small gold compass especially impressed her fancy
by the trembling and flashing of its tiny needle, and she
murmured, coaxingly:--
--"Mo oule ca! Donnin ca a moin."
He took all possible advantage of the situation, and replied at
once:--
-- "Oui! mo va donnin toi ca si to di moin to laut nom."
The splendid bribe evidently impressed her greatly; for tears
rose to the brown eyes as she answered:
-- "Mo pas capab di' ca;--mo pas capab di' laut nom ... Mo oule;
mo pas capab!"
Laroussel explained. The child's name was Lili,--perhaps a
contraction of Eulalie; and her pet Creole name Zouzoune. He
thought she must be the daughter of wealthy people; but she could
not, for some reason or other, tell her family name. Perhaps she
could not pronounce it well, and was afraid of being laughed at:
some of the old French names were very hard for Creole children
to pronounce, so long as the little ones were indulged in the
habit of talking the patois; and after a certain age their
mispronunciations would be made fun of in order to accustom them
to abandon the idiom of the slave-nurses, and to speak only
French. Perhaps, again, she was really unable to recall the
name: certain memories might have been blurred in the delicate
brain by the shock of that terrible night. She said her mother's
name was Adele, and her father's Julien; but these were very
common names in Louisiana,--and could afford scarcely any better
clew than the innocent statement that her mother used to address
her father as "dear" (Cheri),--or with the Creole diminutive
"little papa" (Papoute). Then Laroussel tried to reach a clew in
other ways, without success. He asked her about where she
lived,--what the place was like; and she told him about fig-trees
in a court, and galleries, and banquettes, and spoke of a
faubou',--without being able to name any street. He asked her
what her father used to do, and was assured that he did
everything--that there was nothing he could not do. Divine
absurdity of childish faith!--infinite artlessness of childish
love! ... Probably the little girl's parents had been residents
of New Orleans--dwellers of the old colonial quarter,--the
faubourg, the faubou'.
-- "Well, gentlemen," said Captain Harris, as Laroussel abandoned
his cross-examination in despair,--"all we can do now is to make
inquiries. I suppose we'd better leave the child here. She is
very weak yet, and in no condition to be taken to the city, right
in the middle of the hot season; and nobody could care for her
any better than she's being cared for here. Then, again, seems
to me that as Feliu saved her life,--and that at the risk of his
own,--he's got the prior claim, anyhow; and his wife is just
crazy about the child--wants to adopt her. If we can find her
relatives so much the better; but I say, gentlemen, let them come
right here to Feliu, themselves, and thank him as he ought to be
thanked, by God! That's just what I think about it."
Carmen understood the little speech;--all the Spanish charm of
her youth had faded out years before; but in the one swift look
of gratitude she turned upon the captain, it seemed to blossom
again;--for that quick moment, she was beautiful.
"The captain is quite right," observed Dr. Hecker: "it would be
very dangerous to take the child away just now. "There was no
dissent.
--"All correct, boys?" asked the captain ... "Well, we've got to
be going. By-by, Zouzoune!"
But Zouzoune burst into tears. Laroussel was going too!
--"Give her the thing, Laroussel! she gave you a kiss,
anyhow--more than she'd do for me," cried the captain.
Laroussel turned, detached the little compass from his watch
chain, and gave it to her. She held up her pretty face for his
farewell kiss ...
VI.
But it seemed fated that Feliu's waif should never be
identified;--diligent inquiry and printed announcements alike
proved fruitless. Sea and sand had either hidden or effaced all
the records of the little world they had engulfed: the
annihilation of whole families, the extinction of races, had, in
more than one instance, rendered vain all efforts to recognize
the dead. It required the subtle perception of long intimacy to
name remains tumefied and discolored by corruption and exposure,
mangled and gnawed by fishes, by reptiles, and by birds;--it
demanded the great courage of love to look upon the eyeless faces
found sweltering in the blackness of cypress-shadows, under the
low palmettoes of the swamps,--where gorged buzzards started from
sleep, or cottonmouths uncoiled, hissing, at the coming of the
searchers. And sometimes all who had loved the lost were
themselves among the missing. The full roll call of names could
never be made out; extraordinary mistakes were committed. Men
whom the world deemed dead and buried came back, like ghosts,--to
read their own epitaphs.
... Almost at the same hour that Laroussel was questioning the
child in Creole patois, another expedition, searching for bodies
along the coast, discovered on the beach of a low islet famed as
- whenever [wen´evə]
conj.&ad.无论何时 (初中英语单词) - excitement [ik´saitmənt] n.兴奋；骚动；煽动 (初中英语单词)
- confusion [kən´fju:ʒən] n.混乱(状态)；骚乱 (初中英语单词)
- startle [´stɑ:tl] vt.使吃惊，使惊跳 (初中英语单词)
- absolute [´æbsəlu:t] a.绝对的 n.绝对 (初中英语单词)
- cottage [´kɔtidʒ] n.村舍；小屋；小别墅 (初中英语单词)
- curiosity [,kjuəri´ɔsiti] n.好奇；奇事；珍品 (初中英语单词)
- fabric [´fæbrik] n.织物；结构；组织 (初中英语单词)
- ribbon [´ribən] n.缎带；带子；色带 (初中英语单词)
- fearful [´fiəfəl] a.可怕的；担心的 (初中英语单词)
- expedition [,ekspi´diʃən] n.远征；探险；迅速 (初中英语单词)
- italian [i´tæliən] a.意大利 n.意大利人 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- suggestion [sə´dʒestʃən] n.建议，提议；暗示 (初中英语单词)
- savage [´sævidʒ] a.野蛮的 n.蛮人 (初中英语单词)
- calmly [´kɑ:mli] ad.平静地；无风浪地 (初中英语单词)
- seriously [´siəriəsli] ad.严肃；严重，重大 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- comment [´kɔment] n.&v.评论；评注；注意 (初中英语单词)
- compass [´kʌmpəs] n.指南针；圆规 (初中英语单词)
- needle [´ni:dl] n.针；指针 v.用针缝 (初中英语单词)
- advantage [əd´vɑ:ntidʒ] n.优势；利益 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- wealthy [´welθi] a.富有的；丰富的 (初中英语单词)
- accustom [ə´kʌstəm] vt.使习惯于 (初中英语单词)
- abandon [ə´bændən] vt.抛弃，放弃，离弃 (初中英语单词)
- unable [ʌn´eibəl] a.不能的；无能为力的 (初中英语单词)
- innocent [´inəsənt] a.无罪的；单纯的 (初中英语单词)
- childish [´tʃaildiʃ] a.孩子的；幼稚的 (初中英语单词)
- colonial [kə´ləuniəl] a.(关于)殖民地的 (初中英语单词)
- gratitude [´grætitju:d] n.感激，感谢 (初中英语单词)
- inquiry [in´kwaiəri] n.询问；质询；调查 (初中英语单词)
- hidden [´hid(ə)n] hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- instance [´instəns] n.例子，实例，例证 (初中英语单词)
- missing [´misiŋ] a.缺掉的；失踪的 (初中英语单词)
- extraordinary [ik´strɔ:dinəri] a.非常的；额外的 (初中英语单词)
- bucket [´bʌkit] n.水桶 (高中英语单词)
- melancholy [´melənkəli] n.忧郁 a.忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- silken [´silkən] a.丝制的；柔软光滑的 (高中英语单词)
- kindred [´kindrid] n.亲属关系；同源关系 (高中英语单词)
- caress [kə´res] n.&vt.爱抚；接吻 (高中英语单词)
- separately [´sepəritli] ad.分离地；孤独地 (英语四级单词)
- sinister [´sinistə] a.阴险的；不吉的 (英语四级单词)
- perception [pə´sepʃən] n.感觉；概念；理解力 (英语四级单词)
- intimacy [´intiməsi] n.亲密；熟悉；秘密 (英语四级单词)
- corruption [kə´rʌpʃən] n.腐化；贪污；贿赂 (英语四级单词)
- blackness [´blæknis] n.黑色；阴险 (英语四级单词)
- recital [ri´saitl] n.背诵；叙述；音乐会 (英语六级单词)
- sultry [´sʌltri] a.狂(闷)热的；风骚的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- infernal [in´fə:nəl] a.地狱的，恶魔似的 (英语六级单词)
- inexplicable [,inik´splikəbəl] a.难以理解的 (英语六级单词)
- shrank [ʃræŋk] shrink的过去式 (英语六级单词)
- latent [´leitənt] a.潜在的，潜伏的 (英语六级单词)
- assured [ə´ʃuəd] a.确实的 n.被保险人 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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