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-Part37_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


and after sitting down opposite me threw an ill-natured glance at

the festive scene. It might have been about half-past ten, then.



Two glasses of wine he drank one after another did not improve his

temper. He only ceased to shiver. After he had eaten something it



must have occurred to him that he had no reason to bear me a grudge

and he tried to assume a civil and even friendly manner. His



mouth, however, betrayed an abiding bitterness. I mean when he

smiled. In repose it was a very expressionless mouth, only it was



too red to be altogether ordinary. The whole of him was like that:

the whiskers too black, the hair too shiny, the forehead too white,



the eyes too mobile; and he lent you his attention with an air of

eagerness which made you uncomfortable. He seemed to expect you to



give yourself away by some unconsidered word that he would snap up

with delight. It was that peculiarity that somehow put me on my



guard. I had no idea who I was facing across the table and as a

matter of fact I did not care. All my impressions were blurred;



and even the promptings of my instinct were the haziest thing

imaginable. Now and then I had acute hallucinations of a woman



with an arrow of gold in her hair. This caused alternate moments

of exaltation and depression from which I tried to take refuge in



conversation; but Senor Ortega was not stimulating. He was

preoccupied with personal matters. When suddenly he asked me



whether I knew why he had been called away from his work (he had

been buying supplies from peasants somewhere in Central France), I



answered that I didn't know what the reason was originally, but I

had an idea that the present intention was to make of him a



courier, bearing certain messages from Baron H. to the Quartel Real

in Tolosa.



He glared at me like a basilisk. "And why have I been met like

this?" he enquired with an air of being prepared to hear a lie.



I explained that it was the Baron's wish, as a matter of prudence

and to avoid any possible trouble which might arise from enquiries



by the police.

He took it badly. "What nonsense." He was - he said - an employe



(for several years) of Hernandez Brothers in Paris, an importing

firm, and he was travelling on their business - as he could prove.



He dived into his side pocket and produced a handful of folded

papers of all sorts which he plunged back again instantly.



And even then I didn't know whom I had there, opposite me, busy now

devouring a slice of pate de foie gras. Not in the least. It



never entered my head. How could it? The Rita that haunted me had

no history; she was but the principle of life charged with



fatality. Her form was only a mirage of desire decoying one step

by step into despair.



Senor Ortega gulped down some more wine and suggested I should tell

him who I was. "It's only right I should know," he added.



This could not be gainsaid; and to a man connected with the Carlist

organization the shortest way was to introduce myself as that



"Monsieur George" of whom he had probably heard.

He leaned far over the table, till his very breast-bone was over



the edge, as though his eyes had been stilettos and he wanted to

drive them home into my brain. It was only much later that I



understood how near death I had been at that moment. But the

knives on the tablecloth were the usual restaurantknives with



rounded ends and about as deadly as pieces of hoop-iron. Perhaps

in the very gust of his fury he remembered what a French restaurant



knife is like and something sane within him made him give up the

sudden project of cutting my heart out where I sat. For it could



have been nothing but a sudden impulse. His settled purpose was

quite other. It was not my heart that he was after. His fingers



indeed were groping amongst the knife handles by the side of his

plate but what captivated my attention for a moment were his red






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