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Penguin Island-Part7_Anatole France_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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beast. He immediately mounted his horse, and, armed with his lance, rushed to

encounter the dragon, whom he reached just as the monster was about to devour



the royal virgin. And when St. George had overthrown the dragon, the king's

daughter fastened her girdle round the beast's neck and he followed her like a



dog led on a leash.

"That is an example for us of the power of virgins over dragons. The history



of St. Martha furnishes us with a still more certain proof. Do you know the

story, Samuel, my son?"



"Yes, father," answered Samuel.

And the blessed Mael went on:



"There was in a forest on the banks of the Rhone, between Arles and Avignon, a

dragon half quadruped and half fish, larger than an ox, with sharp teeth like



horns and huge-wings at his shoulders. He sank the boats and devoured their

passengers. Now St. Martha, at the entreaty of the people, approached this



dragon, whom she found devouring a man. She put her girdle round his neck and

led him easily into the town.



"These two examples lead me to think that we should have recourse to the power

of some virgin so as to conquer the dragon who scatters terror and death



through the island of Alca.

"For this reason, Samuel thy son, gird up thy loins and go, I pray thee, with



two of thy companions, into all the villages of this island, and proclaim

everywhere that a virgin alone shall be able to deliver the island from the



monster that devastates it.

"Thou shalt sing psalms and canticles and thou shalt say:



"'O sons of the Penguins, if there be among you a pure virgin, let her arise

and go, armed with the sign of the cross, to combat the dragon!'"



Thus the old man spake, and Samuel promised to obey him. The next day he

girded up his loins and set out with two of his companions to proclaim to the



inhabitants of Alca that a virgin alone would be able to deliver the Penguins

from the rage of the dragon.



X. THE DRAGON OF ALCA (Continuation)

Orberosia loved her husband, but she did not love him alone. At the hour when



Venus lightens in the pale sky, whilst Kraken scattered terror through the

villages, she used to visit in his moving hut, a young shepherd of Dalles



called Marcel, whose pleasing form was invested with inexhaustible vigour. The

fair Orberosia shared the shepherd's aromatic couch with delight, but far from



making herself known to him, she took the name of Bridget, and said that she

was the daughter of a gardener in the Bay of Divers. When regretfully she left



his arms she walked across the smoking fields towards the Coast of Shadows,

and if she happened to meet some belatedpeasant she immediately spread out



her garments like great wings and cried:

"Passer by, lower your eyes, that you may not have to say, 'Alas! alas! woe is



me, for I have seen the angel of the Lord.'"

The villagers tremblingly knelt with their faces to the round. And several of



them used to say that angels, whom it would be death to see, passed along the

roads of the island in the night time.



Kraken did not know of the loves of Orberosia and Marcel, for he was a hero,

and heroes never discover the secrets of their wives. But though he did not



know of these loves, he reaped the benefit of them. Every night he found his

companion more good-humoured and more beautiful, exhaling pleasure and



perfuming the nuptial bed with a delicious odour of fennel and vervain. She

loved Kraken with a love that never became importunate or anxious, because she



did not rest its whole weight on him alone.

This lucky infidelity of Orberosia was destined soon to save the hero from a



great peril and to assure his fortune and his glory for ever. For it happened

that she saw passing in the twilight a neatherd from Belmont, who was goading



on his oxen, and she fell more deeply in love with him than she had ever been

with the shepherd Marcel. He was hunch-backed; his shoulders were higher than



his ears; his body was supported by legs of different lengths; his rolling

eyes flashed, from beneath his matted hair. From his throat issued a hoarse



voice and strident laughter; he smelt of the cow-shed. However, to her he was

beautiful. "A plant," as Gnatho says, "has been loved by one, a stream by



another, a beast by a third."

Now, one day, as she was sighing within the neatherd's arms in a village barn,



suddenly the blasts of a trumpet, with sounds and footsteps, fell upon her

ears; she looked through the window and saw the inhabitants collected in the



marketplace round a young monk, who, standing upon a rock, uttered these words

in a distinct voice:






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