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'Twixt Land & Sea-Part27_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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line of her shapely shoulders, the curves of her fine figure

swaying a little before the keyboard. She had on a light dress;



the sleeves stopped short at the elbows in an edging of lace. A

satin ribbon encircled her waist. In an access of irresistible,



reckless hopefulness he clapped both his hands on that waist - and

then the irritating music stopped at last. But, quick as she was



in springing away from the contact (the round music-stool going

over with a crash), Heemskirk's lips, aiming at her neck, landed a



hungry, smacking kiss just under her ear. A deep silence reigned

for a time. And then he laughed rather feebly.



He was disconcerted somewhat by her white, still face, the big

light violet eyes resting on him stonily. She had not uttered a



sound. She faced him, steadying herself on the corner of the piano

with one extended hand. The other went on rubbing with mechanical



persistency the place his lips had touched.

"What's the trouble?" he said, offended. "Startled you? Look



here: don't let us have any of that nonsense. You don't mean to

say a kiss frightens you so much as all that. . . . I know better.



. . . I don't mean to be left out in the cold."

He had been gazing into her face with such strained intentness that



he could no longer see it distinctly. Everything round him was

rather misty. He forgot the overturned stool, caught his foot



against it, and lurched forward lightly" target="_blank" title="ad.轻微地；细长的">slightly, saying in an ingratiating

tone:



"I'm not bad fun, really. You try a few kisses to begin with - "

He said no more, because his head received a terrific concussion,



accompanied by an explosive sound. Freya had swung her round,

strong arm with such force that the impact of her open palm on his



flat cheek turned him half round. Uttering a faint, hoarse yell,

the lieutenant clapped both his hands to the left side of his face,



which had taken on suddenly a dusky brick-red tinge. Freya, very

erect, her violet eyes darkened, her palm still tingling from the



blow, a sort of restrained determined smile showing a tiny gleam of

her white teeth, heard her father's rapid, heavy tread on the path



below the verandah. Her expression lost its pugnacity and became

sincerely concerned. She was sorry for her father. She stooped



quickly to pick up the music-stool, as if anxious to obliterate the

traces. . . . But that was no good. She had resumed her attitude,



one hand resting lightly on the piano, before old Nelson got up to

the top of the stairs.



Poor father! How furious he will be - how upset! And afterwards,

what tremors, what unhappiness! Why had she not been open with him



from the first? His round, innocent stare of amazement cut her to

the quick. But he was not looking at her. His stare was directed



to Heemskirk, who, with his back to him and with his hands still up

to his face, was hissing curses through his teeth, and (she saw him



in profile) glaring at her balefully with one black, evil eye.

"What's the matter?" asked old Nelson, very much bewildered.



She did not answer him. She thought of Jasper on the deck of the

brig, gazing up at the lighted bungalow, and she felt frightened.



It was a mercy that one of them at least was on board out of the

way. She only wished he were a hundred miles off. And yet she was



not certain that she did. Had Jasper been mysteriously moved that

moment to reappear on the verandah she would have thrown her



consistency, her firmness, her self-possession, to the winds, and

flown into his arms.



"What is it? What is it?" insisted the unsuspecting Nelson,

getting quite excited. "Only this minute you were playing a tune,



and - "

Freya, unable to speak in her apprehension of what was coming (she



was also fascinated by that black, evil, glaring eye), only nodded

lightly" target="_blank" title="ad.轻微地；细长的">slightly at the lieutenant, as much as to say: "Just look at him!"



"Why, yes!" exclaimed old Nelson. "I see. What on earth - "

Meantime he had cautiously approached Heemskirk, who, bursting into



incoherent imprecations, was stamping with both feet where he

stood. The indignity of the blow, the rage of baffled purpose, the



ridicule of the exposure, and the impossibility of revenge maddened

him to a point when he simply felt he must howl with fury.



"Oh, oh, oh!" he howled, stamping across the verandah as though he

meant to drive his foot through the floor at every step.






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