章节正文
文章总共2页
out of breath with running or fighting, she looked down and went
on--
"Day after day, night after night, I lived watching him--seeing
nothing. And my heart was heavy--heavy with the presence of
death that dwelt amongst us. I could not believe. I thought he
was afraid. Afraid of you! Then I, myself, knew fear. . . .
Tell me, Rajah Laut, do you know the fear without voice--the fear
of silence--the fear that comes when there is no one near--when
there is no battle, no cries, no angry faces or armed hands
anywhere? . . . The fear from which there is no escape!"
She paused, fastened her eyes again on the puzzled Lingard, and
hurried on in a tone of despair--
"And I knew then he would not fight you! Before--many days
ago--I went away twice to make him obey my desire; to make him
strike at his own people so that he could be mine--mine! O
calamity! His hand was false as your white hearts. It struck
forward, pushed by my desire--by his desire of me. . . . It
struck that strong hand, and--O shame!--it killed nobody! Its
fierce and lying blow woke up hate without any fear. Round me
all was lies. His strength was a lie. My own people lied to me
and to him. And to meet you--you, the great!--he had no one but
me? But me with my rage, my pain, my weakness. Only me! And to
me he would not even speak. The fool!"
She came up close to Lingard, with the wild and stealthy aspect
of a lunaticlonging to whisper out an insane secret--one of
those misshapen, heart-rending, and ludicrous secrets; one of
those thoughts that, like monsters--cruel, fantastic, and
mournful, wander about terrible and unceasing in the night of
madness. Lingard looked at her, astounded but unflinching. She
spoke in his face, very low.
"He is all! Everything. He is my breath, my light, my heart. .
. . Go away. . . . Forget him. . . . He has no courage and no
wisdom any more . . . and I have lost my power. . . . Go away and
forget. There are other enemies. . . . Leave him to me. He had
been a man once. . . . You are too great. Nobody can withstand
you. . . . I tried. . . . I know now. . . . I cry for mercy.
Leave him to me and go away."
The fragments of her supplicating sentences were as if tossed on
the crest of her sobs. Lingard, outwardly impassive, with his
eyes fixed on the house, experienced that feeling of
condemnation, deep-seated, persuasive, and masterful; that
illogical impulse of disapproval which is half disgust, half
vague fear, and that wakes up in our hearts in the presence of
anything new or unusual, of anything that is not run into the
mould of our own conscience; the accursed feeling made up of
disdain, of anger, and of the sense of superior virtue that
leaves us deaf, blind, contemptuous and stupid before anything
which is not like ourselves.
He answered, not looking at her at first, but speaking towards
the house that fascinated him--
"_I_ go away! He wanted me to come--he himself did! . . . YOU
must go away. You do not know what you are asking for. Listen.
Go to your own people. Leave him. He is . . ."
He paused, looked down at her with his steady eyes; hesitated, as
if seeking an adequate expression; then snapped his fingers, and
said--
"Finish."
She stepped back, her eyes on the ground, and pressed her temples
with both her hands, which she raised to her head in a slow and
ample movement full of unconscioustragedy. The tone of her
words was gentle and vibrating, like a loud meditation. She
said--
"Tell the brook not to run to the river; tell the river not to
run to the sea. Speak loud. Speak angrily. Maybe they will
obey you. But it is in my mind that the brook will not care.
The brook that springs out of the hillside and runs to the great
river. He would not care for your words: he that cares not for
the very mountain that gave him life; he that tears the earth
from which he springs. Tears it, eats it, destroys it--to hurry
faster to the river--to the river in which he is lost for ever. .
. . O Rajah Laut! I do not care."
She drew close again to Lingard, approaching slowly, reluctantly,
as if pushed by an invisible hand, and added in words that seemed
to be torn out of her--
"I cared not for my own father. For him that died. I would have
rather . . . You do not know what I have done . . . I . . ."
"You shall have his life," said Lingard, hastily.
on--
"Day after day, night after night, I lived watching him--seeing
nothing. And my heart was heavy--heavy with the presence of
death that dwelt amongst us. I could not believe. I thought he
was afraid. Afraid of you! Then I, myself, knew fear. . . .
Tell me, Rajah Laut, do you know the fear without voice--the fear
of silence--the fear that comes when there is no one near--when
there is no battle, no cries, no angry faces or armed hands
anywhere? . . . The fear from which there is no escape!"
She paused, fastened her eyes again on the puzzled Lingard, and
hurried on in a tone of despair--
"And I knew then he would not fight you! Before--many days
ago--I went away twice to make him obey my desire; to make him
strike at his own people so that he could be mine--mine! O
calamity! His hand was false as your white hearts. It struck
forward, pushed by my desire--by his desire of me. . . . It
struck that strong hand, and--O shame!--it killed nobody! Its
fierce and lying blow woke up hate without any fear. Round me
all was lies. His strength was a lie. My own people lied to me
and to him. And to meet you--you, the great!--he had no one but
me? But me with my rage, my pain, my weakness. Only me! And to
me he would not even speak. The fool!"
She came up close to Lingard, with the wild and stealthy aspect
of a lunaticlonging to whisper out an insane secret--one of
those misshapen, heart-rending, and ludicrous secrets; one of
those thoughts that, like monsters--cruel, fantastic, and
mournful, wander about terrible and unceasing in the night of
madness. Lingard looked at her, astounded but unflinching. She
spoke in his face, very low.
"He is all! Everything. He is my breath, my light, my heart. .
. . Go away. . . . Forget him. . . . He has no courage and no
wisdom any more . . . and I have lost my power. . . . Go away and
forget. There are other enemies. . . . Leave him to me. He had
been a man once. . . . You are too great. Nobody can withstand
you. . . . I tried. . . . I know now. . . . I cry for mercy.
Leave him to me and go away."
The fragments of her supplicating sentences were as if tossed on
the crest of her sobs. Lingard, outwardly impassive, with his
eyes fixed on the house, experienced that feeling of
condemnation, deep-seated, persuasive, and masterful; that
illogical impulse of disapproval which is half disgust, half
vague fear, and that wakes up in our hearts in the presence of
anything new or unusual, of anything that is not run into the
mould of our own conscience; the accursed feeling made up of
disdain, of anger, and of the sense of superior virtue that
leaves us deaf, blind, contemptuous and stupid before anything
which is not like ourselves.
He answered, not looking at her at first, but speaking towards
the house that fascinated him--
"_I_ go away! He wanted me to come--he himself did! . . . YOU
must go away. You do not know what you are asking for. Listen.
Go to your own people. Leave him. He is . . ."
He paused, looked down at her with his steady eyes; hesitated, as
if seeking an adequate expression; then snapped his fingers, and
said--
"Finish."
She stepped back, her eyes on the ground, and pressed her temples
with both her hands, which she raised to her head in a slow and
ample movement full of unconscioustragedy. The tone of her
words was gentle and vibrating, like a loud meditation. She
said--
"Tell the brook not to run to the river; tell the river not to
run to the sea. Speak loud. Speak angrily. Maybe they will
obey you. But it is in my mind that the brook will not care.
The brook that springs out of the hillside and runs to the great
river. He would not care for your words: he that cares not for
the very mountain that gave him life; he that tears the earth
from which he springs. Tears it, eats it, destroys it--to hurry
faster to the river--to the river in which he is lost for ever. .
. . O Rajah Laut! I do not care."
She drew close again to Lingard, approaching slowly, reluctantly,
as if pushed by an invisible hand, and added in words that seemed
to be torn out of her--
"I cared not for my own father. For him that died. I would have
rather . . . You do not know what I have done . . . I . . ."
"You shall have his life," said Lingard, hastily.
- steadily [´stedili]
ad.坚定地；不断地 (初中英语单词) - remote [ri´məut] a.遥远的；偏僻的 (初中英语单词)
- sunshine [´sʌnʃain] n.日光，阳光 (初中英语单词)
- emotion [i´məuʃən] n.感情；情绪；激动 (初中英语单词)
- savage [´sævidʒ] a.野蛮的 n.蛮人 (初中英语单词)
- delicate [´delikət] a.精美的；微妙的 (初中英语单词)
- fearful [´fiəfəl] a.可怕的；担心的 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- movement [´mu:vmənt] n.活动；运动；动作 (初中英语单词)
- violent [´vaiələnt] a.强暴的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- ignorant [´ignərənt] a.无知的，愚昧的 (初中英语单词)
- tremendous [tri´mendəs] a.可怕的；巨大的 (初中英语单词)
- cradle [´kreidl] n.摇篮；发源地 (初中英语单词)
- invisible [in´vizəbəl] a.看不见的；无形的 (初中英语单词)
- slightly [´slaitli] ad.轻微地；细长的 (初中英语单词)
- delightful [di´laitful] a.讨人喜欢的 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- aspect [´æspekt] n.面貌；神色；方向 (初中英语单词)
- daylight [´deilait] n.日光；黎明 (初中英语单词)
- interval [´intəvəl] n.间隙；(工间)休息 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- weakness [´wi:knis] n.虚弱；弱点，缺点 (初中英语单词)
- whisper [´wispə] v.耳语 n.低语；沙沙声 (初中英语单词)
- wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- impulse [´impʌls] n.推动(力)；冲动；刺激 (初中英语单词)
- disgust [dis´gʌst] n.厌恶 vt.令(人)作呕 (初中英语单词)
- unusual [ʌn´ju:ʒuəl] a.不平常的；异常的 (初中英语单词)
- conscience [´kɔnʃəns] n.良心；道德心 (初中英语单词)
- virtue [´və:tʃu:] n.美德；贞操；长处 (初中英语单词)
- stupid [´stju:pid] a.愚蠢的；糊涂的 (初中英语单词)
- adequate [´ædikwit] a.足够的；适当的 (初中英语单词)
- tragedy [´trædʒidi] n.悲剧；惨案；灾难 (初中英语单词)
- hillside [´hilsaid] n.山腰 (初中英语单词)
- hastily [´heistili] ad.急速地；草率地 (初中英语单词)
- patiently [´peiʃəntli] ad.有耐心地；坚韧地 (高中英语单词)
- singular [´siŋgjulə] a.单一的；非凡的 (高中英语单词)
- loneliness [´ləunliniz] n.孤独，寂寞 (高中英语单词)
- transparent [træns´peərənt] a.透明的；显而易见的 (高中英语单词)
- amongst [ə´mʌŋst] prep.其中之一 =among (高中英语单词)
- crooked [´krukid] a.弯曲的；畸形的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- sadness [´sædnis] n.悲哀；悲痛；凄惨 (高中英语单词)
- roughly [´rʌfli] ad.粗糙地；毛糙地 (高中英语单词)
- longing [´lɔŋiŋ] n.&a.渴望(的) (高中英语单词)
- insane [in´sein] a.患神经病的；疯狂的 (高中英语单词)
- fantastic [fæn´tæstik] a.奇异的；荒谬的 (高中英语单词)
- unconscious [ʌn´kɔnʃəs] a.无意识的；不觉察的 (高中英语单词)
- angrily [´æŋgrili] ad.生气地；愤怒地 (高中英语单词)
- blindly [blaindli] ad.盲目地；没头脑地 (英语四级单词)
- resolute [´rezəlu:t] a.坚决的；不屈不挠的 (英语四级单词)
- abominable [ə´bɔminəbəl] a.可憎的；极坏的 (英语四级单词)
- venerable [´venərəbəl] a.可尊敬的；森严的 (英语四级单词)
- experienced [ik´spiəriənst] a.有经验的；熟练的 (英语四级单词)
- accursed [ə´kə:sid] a.被诅咒的；可憎的 (英语四级单词)
- meditation [,medi´teiʃən] n.熟虑；默想 (英语四级单词)
- hopefully [´həupfəli] ad.抱着希望地 (英语六级单词)
- pestilence [´pestiləns] n.瘟(鼠)疫；毒害(物) (英语六级单词)
- expectant [ik´spektənt] a.期待的，预期的 (英语六级单词)
- persuasive [pə´sweisiv] a.有说服力的 n.动机 (英语六级单词)
- isolation [,aisə´leiʃən] n.隔离，孤立 (英语六级单词)
- paternal [pə´tə:nl] a.(象)父亲的；父方的 (英语六级单词)
- lunatic [´lu:nətik] a.精神错乱的 n.疯子 (英语六级单词)
- disapproval [,disə´pru:vəl] n.不赞成；非难 (英语六级单词)
- contemptuous [kən´temptjuəs] a.蔑视的；傲慢的 (英语六级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
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文章标签:名著
章节正文
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