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Green Mansions-Part39_W.H.Hudson(1841-1922)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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you cannot. That which you have done is done, and yours must be



the penalty and the sorrow--yours and mine--yours and mine--yours

and mine."



This, too, was a phantom, a Rima of the mind, one of the shapes

the ever-changing black vapours of remorse and insanity would



take; and all her mournful sentences were woven out of my own

brain. I was not so crazed as not to know it; only a phantom, an



illusion, yet more real than reality--real as my crime and vain

remorse and death to come. It was, indeed, Rima returned to tell



me that I that loved her had been more cruel to her than her

cruellest enemies; for they had but tortured and destroyed her



body with fire, while I had cast this shadow on her soul--this

sorrow transcending all sorrows, darker than death, immitigable,



eternal.

If I could only have faded gradually, painlessly, growing feebler



in body and dimmer in my senses each day, to sink at last into

sleep! But it could not be. Still the fever in my brain, the



mocking voice by day, the phantoms by night; and at last I became

convinced that unless I quitted the forest before long, death



would come to me in some terrible shape. But in the feeble

condition I was now in, and without any provisions, to escape



from the neighbourhood of Parahuari was impossible, seeing that

it was necessary at starting to avoid the villages where the



Indians were of the same tribe as Runi, who would recognize me as

the white man who was once his guest and afterwards his



implacable enemy. I must wait, and in spite of a weakened body

and a mind diseased, struggle still to wrest a scanty subsistence



from wild nature.

One day I discovered an old prostrate tree, buried under a thick



growth of creeper and fern, the wood of which was nearly or quite

rotten, as I proved by thrusting my knife to the heft in it. No



doubt it would contain grubs--those huge, white wood-borers which

now formed an important item in my diet. On the following day I



returned to the spot with a chopper and a bundle of wedges to

split the trunk up, but had scarcely commenced operations when an



animal, startled at my blows, rushed or rather wriggled from its

hiding-place under the dead wood at a distance of a few yards



from me. It was a robust, round-headed, short-legged creature,

about as big as a good-sized cat, and clothed in a thick,



greenish-brown fur. The ground all about was covered with

creepers, binding the ferns, bushes, and old dead branches



together; and in this confused tangle the animal scrambled and

tore with a great show of energy, but really made very little



progress; and all at once it flashed into my mind that it was a

sloth--a common animal, but rarely seen on the ground--with no



tree near to take refuge in. The shock of joy this discovery

produced was great enough to unnerve me, and for some moments I



stood trembling, hardly able to breathe; then recovering I

hastened after it, and stunned it with a blow from my chopper on



its round head.

"Poor sloth!" I said as I stood over it. "Poor old lazy-bones!



Did Rima ever find you fast asleep in a tree, hugging a branch as

if you loved it, and with her little hand pat your round,



human-like head; and laugh mockingly at the astonishment in your

drowsy, waking eyes; and scold you tenderly for wearing your



nails so long, and for being so ugly? Lazybones, your death is

revenged! Oh, to be out of this wood--away from this sacred



place--to be anywhere where killing is not murder!"

Then it came into my mind that I was now in possession of the



supply of food which would enable me to quit the wood. A noble

capture! As much to me as if a stray, migratory mule had rambled



into the wood and found me, and I him. Now I would be my own

mule, patient, and long-suffering, and far-going, with naked feet



hardened to hoofs, and a pack of provender on my back to make me

independent of the dry, bitter grass on the sunburnt savannahs.



Part of that night and the next morning was spent in curing the

flesh over a smoky fire of green wood and in manufacturing a



rough sack to store it in, for I had resolved to set out on my

journey. How safely to convey Rima's treasured ashes was a



subject of much thought and anxiety. The clay vessel on which I

had expended so much loving, sorrowful labour had to be left,






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