酷兔英语
    当前位置:
  1. 首页
  2. 文章
  3. 娱乐英语
  4. 原版小说
  5. 正文

The Arrow of Gold-Part9_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

0 收藏 0 分享 0 赞

章节正文
文章总共2页


ground under our feet was hard.

The door at which Mills rang came open almost at once. The maid



who opened it was short, dark, and slightly pockmarked. For the

rest, an obvious "femme-de-chambre," and very busy. She said



quickly, "Madame has just returned from her ride," and went up the

stairs leaving us to shut the front door ourselves.



The staircase had a crimsoncarpet. Mr. Blunt appeared from

somewhere in the hall. He was in riding breeches and a black coat



with ample square skirts. This get-up suited him but it also

changed him extremely by doing away with the effect of flexible



slimness he produced in his evening clothes. He looked to me not

at all himself but rather like a brother of the man who had been



talking to us the night before. He carried about him a delicate

perfume of scented soap. He gave us a flash of his white teeth and



said:

"It's a perfect nuisance. We have just dismounted. I will have to



lunch as I am. A lifelong habit of beginning her day on horseback.

She pretends she is unwell unless she does. I daresay, when one



thinks there has been hardly a day for five or six years that she

didn't begin with a ride. That's the reason she is always rushing



away from Paris where she can't go out in the morning alone. Here,

of course, it's different. And as I, too, am a stranger here I can



go out with her. Not that I particularly care to do it."

These last words were addressed to Mills specially, with the



addition of a mumbled remark: "It's a confounded position." Then

calmly to me with a swift smile: "We have been talking of you this



morning. You are expected with impatience."

"Thank you very much," I said, "but I can't help asking myself what



I am doing here."

The upward cast in the eyes of Mills who was facing the staircase



made us both, Blunt and I, turn round. The woman of whom I had

heard so much, in a sort of way in which I had never heard a woman



spoken of before, was coming down the stairs, and my first

sensation was that of profoundastonishment at this evidence that



she did really exist. And even then the visual impression was more

of colour in a picture than of the forms of actual life. She was



wearing a wrapper, a sort of dressing-gown of pale blue silk

embroidered with black and gold designs round the neck and down the



front, lapped round her and held together by a broad belt of the

same material. Her slippers were of the same colour, with black



bows at the instep. The white stairs, the deep crimson of the

carpet, and the light blue of the dress made an effective



combination of colour to set off the delicate carnation of that

face, which, after the first glance given to the whole person, drew



irresistibly your gaze to itself by an indefinable quality of charm

beyond all analysis and made you think of remote races, of strange



generations, of the faces of women sculptured on immemorial

monuments and of those lying unsung in their tombs. While she



moved downwards from step to step with slightly lowered eyes there

flashed upon me suddenly the recollection of words heard at night,



of Allegre's words about her, of there being in her "something of

the women of all time."



At the last step she raised her eyelids, treated us to an

exhibition of teeth as dazzling as Mr. Blunt's and looking even



stronger; and indeed, as she approached us she brought home to our

hearts (but after all I am speaking only for myself) a vivid sense



of her physicalperfection in beauty of limb and balance of nerves,

and not so much of grace, probably, as of absolute harmony.



She said to us, "I am sorry I kept you waiting." Her voice was low

pitched, penetrating, and of the most seductive gentleness. She



offered her hand to Mills very frankly as to an old friend. Within

the extraordinarily wide sleeve, lined with black silk, I could see



the arm, very white, with a pearly gleam in the shadow. But to me

she extended her hand with a slight stiffening, as it were a recoil



of her person, combined with an extremely straight glance. It was

a finely shaped, capable hand. I bowed over it, and we just



touched fingers. I did not look then at her face.

Next moment she caught sight of some envelopes lying on the round






文章总共2页
文章标签:名著  

章节正文
Copyright © 2023 Qeto All rights reserved.
商务合作 | 联系我们 | 关于我们 | 版权声明 | 隐私条款 | 如果智培

京ICP备05059198号-1 京公网安备 11011202003401号