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Within the Tides-Part11_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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She found herself like a feather in his grasp, helpless, unable to



struggle, with her feet off the ground. But this contact with her,

maddening like too much felicity, destroyed its own end. Fire ran



through his veins, turned his passion to ashes, burnt him out and

left him empty, without force - almost without desire. He let her



go before she could cry out. And she was so used to the forms of

repression enveloping, softening the crude impulses of old humanity



that she no longer believed in their existence as if it were an

exploded legend. She did not recognise what had happened to her.



She came safe out of his arms, without a struggle, not even having

felt afraid.



"What's the meaning of this?" she said, outraged but calm in a

scornful way.



He got down on his knees in silence, bent low to her very feet,

while she looked down at him, a little surprised, without



animosity, as if merely curious to see what he would do. Then,

while he remained bowed to the ground pressing the hem of her skirt



to his lips, she made a slight movement. He got up.

"No," he said. "Were you ever so much mine what could I do with



you without your consent? No. You don't conquer a wraith, cold

mist, stuff of dreams, illusion. It must come to you and cling to



your breast. And then! Oh! And then!"

All ecstasy, all expression went out of his face.



"Mr. Renouard," she said, "though you can have no claim on my

consideration after having decoyed me here for the vile purpose,



apparently, of gloating over me as your possible prey, I will tell

you that I am not perhaps the extraordinary being you think I am.



You may believe me. Here I stand for truth itself."

"What's that to me what you are?" he answered. "At a sign from you



I would climb up to the seventh heaven to bring you down to earth

for my own - and if I saw you steeped to the lips in vice, in



crime, in mud, I would go after you, take you to my arms - wear you

for an incomparable jewel on my breast. And that's love - true



love - the gift and the curse of the gods. There is no other."

The truth vibrating in his voice made her recoilslightly, for she



was not fit to hear it - not even a little - not even one single

time in her life. It was revolting to her; and in her trouble,



perhaps prompted by the suggestion of his name or to soften the

harshness of expression, for she was obscurely moved, she spoke to



him in French.

"ASSEZ! J'AI HORREUR DE TOUT CELA," she said.



He was white to his very lips, but he was trembling no more. The

dice had been cast, and not even violence could alter the throw.



She passed by him unbendingly, and he followed her down the path.

After a time she heard him saying:



"And your dream is to influence a human destiny?"

"Yes!" she answered curtly, unabashed, with a woman's complete



assurance.

"Then you may rest content. You have done it."



She shrugged her shoulders slightly. But just before reaching the

end of the path she relented, stopped, and went back to him.



"I don't suppose you are very anxious for people to know how near

you came to absolute turpitude. You may rest easy on that point.



I shall speak to my father, of course, and we will agree to say

that he has died - nothing more."



"Yes," said Renouard in a lifeless voice. "He is dead. His very

ghost shall be done with presently."



She went on, but he remained standing stock still in the dusk. She

had already reached the three palms when she heard behind her a



loud peal of laughter, cynical and joyless, such as is heard in

smoking-rooms at the end of a scandalous story. It made her feel



positively faint for a moment.

CHAPTER XI



Slowly a complete darkness enveloped Geoffrey Renouard. His

resolution had failed him. Instead of following Felicia into the



house, he had stopped under the three palms, and leaning against a

smooth trunk had abandoned himself to a sense of an immense



deception and the feeling of extremefatigue. This walk up the

hill and down again was like the supreme effort of an explorer



trying to penetrate the interior of an unknown country, the secret

of which is too well defended by its cruel and barren nature.






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