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 Merry Men-Part14_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_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
the china gods changing and wavering like images in water. The



inner door stood ajar, and peered into that leaguer of shadows with

a long slit of daylight like a pointing finger.



From these fear-stricken rovings, Markheim's eyes returned to the

body of his victim, where it lay both humped and sprawling,



incredibly small and strangely meaner than in life. In these poor,

miserly clothes, in that ungainly attitude, the dealer lay like so



much sawdust. Markheim had feared to see it, and, lo! it was

nothing. And yet, as he gazed, this bundle of old clothes and pool



of blood began to find eloquent voices. There it must lie; there

was none to work the cunning hinges or direct the miracle of



locomotion - there it must lie till it was found. Found! ay, and

then? Then would this dead flesh lift up a cry that would ring



over England, and fill the world with the echoes of pursuit. Ay,

dead or not, this was still the enemy. 'Time was that when the



brains were out,' he thought; and the first word struck into his

mind. Time, now that the deed was accomplished - time, which had



closed for the victim, had become instant and momentous for the

slayer.



The thought was yet in his mind, when, first one and then another,

with every variety of pace and voice - one deep as the bell from a



cathedral turret, another ringing on its treble notes the prelude

of a waltz-the clocks began to strike the hour of three in the



afternoon.

The sudden outbreak of so many tongues in that dumb chamber



staggered him. He began to bestir himself, going to and fro with

the candle, beleaguered by moving shadows, and startled to the soul



by chance reflections. In many rich mirrors, some of home design,

some from Venice or Amsterdam, he saw his face repeated and



repeated, as it were an army of spies; his own eyes met and

detected him; and the sound of his own steps, lightly as they fell,



vexed the surrounding quiet. And still, as he continued to fill

his pockets, his mind accused him with a sickening iteration, of



the thousand faults of his design. He should have chosen a more

quiet hour; he should have prepared an alibi; he should not have



used a knife; he should have been more cautious, and only bound and

gagged the dealer, and not killed him; he should have been more



bold, and killed the servant also; he should have done all things

otherwise: poignant regrets, weary, incessant toiling of the mind



to change what was unchangeable, to plan what was now useless, to

be the architect of the irrevocable past. Meanwhile, and behind



all this activity, brute terrors, like the scurrying of rats in a

deserted attic, filled the more remote chambers of his brain with



riot; the hand of the constable would fall heavy on his shoulder,

and his nerves would jerk like a hooked fish; or he beheld, in



galloping defile, the dock, the prison, the gallows, and the black

coffin.



Terror of the people in the street sat down before his mind like a

besieging army. It was impossible, he thought, but that some



rumour of the struggle must have reached their ears and set on edge

their curiosity; and now, in all the neighbouring houses, he



divined them sitting motionless and with uplifted ear - solitary

people, condemned to spend Christmas dwelling alone on memories of



the past, and now startingly recalled from that tender exercise;

happy family parties struck into silence round the table, the



mother still with raised finger: every degree and age and humour,

but all, by their own hearths, prying and hearkening and weaving



the rope that was to hang him. Sometimes it seemed to him he could

not move too softly; the clink of the tall Bohemian goblets rang



out loudly like a bell; and alarmed by the bigness of the ticking,

he was tempted to stop the clocks. And then, again, with a swift



transition of his terrors, the very silence of the place appeared a

source of peril, and a thing to strike and freeze the passer-by;



and he would step more boldly, and bustle aloud among the contents

of the shop, and imitate, with elaborate bravado, the movements of



a busy man at ease in his own house.




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