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Selected Writings-Part20_Guy De Maupassant(1850-1893)_Translated Works(翻译文学)-第2页

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soul, almost before it was released, had taken its flight to the

inn where Ulrich was sleeping, and it had called him by that



terrible and mysterious power which the spirits of the dead

possess. That voiceless soul had cried to the worn-out soul of



the sleeper; it had uttered its last farewell, or its reproach,

or its curse on the man who had not searched carefully enough.



And Ulrich felt that it was there, quite close to him, behind the

wall, behind the door which he had just fastened. It was



wandering about, like a night bird which skims a lighted window

with his wings, and the terrified young man was ready to scream



with horror. He wanted to run away, but did not dare go out; he

did not dare, and would never dare in the future, for that



phantom would remain there day and night, round the inn, as long

as the old man's body was not recovered and deposited in the



consecrated earth of a churchyard.

Daylight came, and Kunsi recovered some of his courage with the



return of the bright sun. He prepared his meal, gave his dog some

food, and then remained motionless on a chair, tortured at heart



as he thought of the old man lying on the snow. Then, as soon as

night once more covered the mountains, new terrors assailed him.



He now walked up and down the dark kitchen, which was scarcely

lighted by the flame of one candle. He walked from one end of it



to the other with great strides, listening, listening to hear the

terrible cry of the preceding night again break the dreary



silence outside. He felt himself alone, unhappy man, as no man

had ever been alone before! Alone in this immense desert of snow,



alone five thousand feet above the inhabited earth; above human

habitations, above that stirring, noisy, palpitating life, alone



under an icy sky! A mad longing impelled him to run away, no

matter where, to get down to Loeche by flinging himself over the



precipice; but he did not even dare to open the door, as he felt

sure that the other, the DEAD, man would bar his road, so that he



might not be obliged to remain up there alone.

Toward midnight, tired with walking, worn-out by grief and fear,



he fell into a doze in his chair, for he was afraid of his bed,

as one is of a haunted spot. But suddenly the strident cry of the



preceding evening pierced his ears, so shrill that Ulrich

stretched out his arms to repulse the ghost, and he fell on to



his back with his chair.

Sam, who was awakened by the noise, began to howl as frightened



dogs do, and trotted all about the house trying to find out where

the danger came from. When he got to the door, he sniffed beneath



it, smelling vigorously, with his coat bristling and his tail

stiff while he growled angrily. Kunsi, who was terrified, jumped



up, and holding his chair by one leg, cried: "Don't come in,

don't come in, or I shall kill you." And the dog, excited by this



threat, barked angrily at that invisible enemy who defied his

master's voice. By degrees, however, he quieted down, came back



and stretched himself in front of the fire. But he was uneasy,

and kept his head up, and growled between his teeth.



Ulrich, in turn, recovered his senses, but as he felt faint with

terror, he went and got a bottle of brandy out of the sideboard,



and drank off several glasses, one after another, at a gulp. His

ideas became vague, his courage revived, and a feverish glow ran



through his veins.

He ate scarcely anything the next day, and limited himself to



alcohol; so he lived for several days, like a drunken brute. As

soon as he thought of Gaspard Hari he began to drink again, and



went on drinking until he fell on to the floor, overcome by

intoxication. And there he remained on his face, dead drunk, his



limbs benumbed, and snoring with his face to the ground. But

scarcely had he digested the maddening and burning liquor, than



the same cry, "Ulrich," woke him like a bulletpiercing his

brain, and he got up, still staggering, stretching out his hands



to save himself from falling, and calling to Sam to help him. And

the dog, who appeared to be going mad like his master, rushed to



the door, scratched it with his claws, and gnawed it with his

long white teeth, while the young man, his neck thrown back, and



his head in the air, drank the brandy in gulps, as if it were

cold water, so that it might by and by send his thoughts, his



frantic terror, and his memory, to sleep again.

In three weeks he had consumed all his stock of ardent spirits.



But his continualdrunkenness only lulled his terror, which awoke

more furiously than ever, as soon as it was impossible for him to



calm it by drinking. His fixed idea, which had been intensified

by a month of drunkenness, and which was continually" target="_blank" title="ad.不断地，频繁地">continually increasing



in his absolutesolitude? pene-trated him like a gimlet. He now




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