简爱(英文版)-第21部分

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t　asks　entrance　to　my　heart。”
“Distrust　it；　sir；　it　is　not　a　true　angel。”
“Once　more；　how　do　you　know？　By　what　instinct　do　you　pretend　to　distinguish　between　a　fallen　seraph　of　the　abyss　and　a　messenger　from　the　eternal　throne—between　a　guide　and　a　seducer？”
“I　judged　by　your　countenance；　sir；　which　was　troubled　when　you　said　the　suggestion　had　returned　upon　you。　I　feel　sure　it　will　work　you　more　misery　if　you　listen　to　it。”
“Not　at　all—it　bears　the　most　gracious　message　in　the　world：　for　the　rest；　you　are　not　my　conscience…keeper；　so　don’t　make　yourself　uneasy。　Here；　e　in；　bonny　wanderer！”
He　said　this　as　if　he　spoke　to　a　vision；　viewless　to　any　eye　but　his　own；　then；　folding　his　arms；　which　he　had　half　extended；　on　his　chest；　he　seemed　to　enclose　in　their　embrace　the　invisible　being。
“Now；”　he　continued；　again　addressing　me；　“I　have　received　the　pilgrim—a　disguised　deity；　as　I　verify　believe。　Already　it　has　done　me　good：　my　heart　was　a　sort　of　charnel；　it　will　now　be　a　shrine。”
“To　speak　truth；　sir；　I　don’t　understand　you　at　all：　I　cannot　keep　up　the　conversation；　because　it　has　got　out　of　my　depth。　Only　one　thing；　I　know：　you　said　you　were　not　as　good　as　you　should　like　to　be；　and　that　you　regretted　your　own　imperfection；—one　thing　I　can　prehend：　you　intimated　that　to　have　a　sullied　memory　was　a　perpetual　bane。　It　seems　to　me；　that　if　you　tried　hard；　you　would　in　time　find　it　possible　to　bee　what　you　yourself　would　approve；　and　that　if　from　this　day　you　began　with　resolution　to　correct　your　thoughts　and　actions；　you　would　in　a　few　years　have　laid　up　a　new　and　stainless　store　of　recollections；　to　which　you　might　revert　with　pleasure。”
“Justly　thought；　rightly　said；　Miss　Eyre；　and；　at　this　moment；　I　am　paving　hell　with　energy。”
“Sir？”
“I　am　laying　down　good　intentions；　which　I　believe　durable　as　flint。　Certainly；　my　associates　and　pursuits　shall　be　other　than　they　have　been。”
“And　better？”
“And　better—so　much　better　as　pure　ore　is　than　foul　dross。　You　seem　to　doubt　me；　I　don’t　doubt　myself：　I　know　what　my　aim　is；　what　my　motives　are；　and　at　this　moment　I　pass　a　law；　unalterable　as　that　of　the　Medes　and　Persians；　that　both　are　right。”
“They　cannot　be；　sir；　if　they　require　a　new　statute　to　legalise　them。”
“They　are；　Miss　Eyre；　though　they　absolutely　require　a　new　statute：　unheard…of　binations　of　circumstances　demand　unheard…of　rules。”
“That　sounds　a　dangerous　maxim；　sir；　because　one　can　see　at　once　that　it　is　liable　to　abuse。”
“Sententious　sage！　so　it　is：　but　I　swear　by　my　household　gods　not　to　abuse　it。”
“You　are　human　and　fallible。”
“I　am：　so　are　you—what　then？”
“The　human　and　fallible　should　not　arrogate　a　power　with　which　the　divine　and　perfect　alone　can　be　safely　intrusted。”
“What　power？”
“That　of　saying　of　any　strange；　unsanctioned　line　of　action；—‘Let　it　be　right。’”
“‘Let　it　be　right’—the　very　words：　you　have　pronounced　them。”
“May　it　be　right　then；”　I　said；　as　I　rose；　deeming　it　useless　to　continue　a　discourse　which　was　all　darkness　to　me；　and；　besides；　sensible　that　the　character　of　my　interlocutor　was　beyond　my　peration；　at　least；　beyond　its　present　reach；　and　feeling　the　uncertainty；　the　vague　sense　of　insecurity；　which　acpanies　a　conviction　of　ignorance。
“Where　are　you　going？”
“To　put　Adèle　to　bed：　it　is　past　her　bedtime。”
“You　are　afraid　of　me；　because　I　talk　like　a　Sphynx。”
“Your　language　is　enigmatical；　sir：　but　though　I　am　bewildered；　I　am　certainly　not　afraid。”
“You　are　afraid—your　self…love　dreads　a　blunder。”
“In　that　sense　I　do　feel　apprehensive—I　have　no　wish　to　talk　nonsense。”
“If　you　did；　it　would　be　in　such　a　grave；　quiet　manner；　I　should　mistake　it　for　sense。　Do　you　never　laugh；　Miss　Eyre？　Don’t　trouble　yourself　to　answer—I　see　you　laugh　rarely；　but　you　can　laugh　very　merrily：　believe　me；　you　are　not　naturally　austere；　any　more　than　I　am　naturally　vicious。　The　Lowood　constraint　still　clings　to　you　somewhat；　controlling　your　features；　muffling　your　voice；　and　restricting　your　limbs；　and　you　fear　in　the　presence　of　a　man　and　a　brother—or　father；　or　master；　or　what　you　will—to　smile　too　gaily；　speak　too　freely；　or　move　too　quickly：　but；　in　time；　I　think　you　will　learn　to　be　natural　with　me；　as　I　find　it　impossible　to　be　conventional　with　you；　and　then　your　looks　and　movements　will　have　more　vivacity　and　variety　than　they　dare　offer　now。　I　see　at　intervals　the　glance　of　a　curious　sort　of　bird　through　the　close…set　bars　of　a　cage：　a　vivid；　restless；　resolute　captive　is　there；　were　it　but　free；　it　would　soar　cloud…high。　You　are　still　bent　on　going？”
“It　has　struck　nine；　sir。”
“Never　mind；—wait　a　minute：　Adèle　is　not　ready　to　go　to　bed　yet。　My　position；　Miss　Eyre；　with　my　back　to　the　fire；　and　my　face　to　the　room；　favours　observation。　While　talking　to　you；　I　have　also　occasionally　watched　Adèle　（I　have　my　own　reasons　for　thinking　her　a　curious　study；—reasons　that　I　may；　nay；　that　I　shall；　impart　to　you　some　day）。　She　pulled　out　of　her　box；　about　ten　minutes　ago；　a　little　pink　silk　frock；　rapture　lit　her　face　as　she　unfolded　it；　coquetry　runs　in　her　blood；　blends　with　her　brains；　and　seasons　the　marrow　of　her　bones。　‘Il　faut　que　je　l’essaie！’　cried　she；　‘et　à　l’instant　même！’　and　she　rushed　out　of　the　room。　She　is　now　with　Sophie；　undergoing　a　robing　process：　in　a　few　minutes　she　will　re…　enter；　and　I　know　what　I　shall　see；—a　miniature　of　Céline　Varens；　as　she　used　to　appear　on　the　boards　at　the　rising　of—　But　never　mind　that。　However；　my　tenderest　feelings　are　about　to　receive　a　shock：　such　is　my　presentiment；　stay　now；　to　see　whether　it　will　be　realised。”
Ere　long；　Adèle’s　little　foot　was　heard　tripping　across　the　hall。　She　entered；　transformed　as　her　guardian　had　predicted。　A　dress　of　rose…coloured　satin；　very　short；　and　as　full　in　the　skirt　as　it　could　be　gathered；　replaced　the　brown　frock　she　had　previously　worn；　a　wreath　of　rosebuds　circled　her　forehead；　her　feet　were　dressed　in　silk　stockings　and　small　white　satin　sandals。
“Est…ce　que　ma　robe　va　bien？”　cried　she；　bounding　forwards；　“et　mes　souliers？　et　mes　bas？　Tenez；　je　crois　que　je　vais　danser！”
And　spreading　out　her　dress；　she　chasséed　across　the　room　till；　having　reached　Mr。　Rochester；　she　wheeled　lightly　round　before　him　on　tip…toe；　then　dropped　on　one　knee　at　his　feet；　exclaiming—
“Monsieur；　je　vous　remercie　mille　fois　de　votre　bonté；”　then　rising；　she　added；　“C’est　me　cela　que　maman　faisait；　n’est…ce　pas；　monsieur？”
“Pre…cise…ly！”　was　the　answer；　“and；　‘me　cela；’　she　charmed　my　English　gold　out　of　my　British　breeches’　pocket。　I　have　been　green；　too；　Miss　Eyre；—ay；　grass　green：　not　a　more　vernal　tint　freshens　you　now　than　once　freshened　me。　My　Spring　is　gone；　however；　but　it　has　left　me　that　French　floweret　on　my　hands；　which；　in　some　moods；　I　would　fain　be　rid　of。　Not　valuing　now　the　root　whence　it　sprang；　having　found　that　it　was　of　a　sort　which　nothing　but　gold　dust　could　manure；　I　have　but　half　a　liking　to　the　blossom；　especially　when　it　looks　so　artificial　as　just　now。　I　keep　it　and　rear　it　rather　on　the　Roman　Catholic　principle　of　expiating　numerous　sins；　great　or　small；　by　one　good　work。　I’ll　explain　all　this　some　day。　Good…　night。”
Chapter　15
Mr。　Rochester　did；　on　a　future　occasion；　explain　it。　It　was　one　afternoon；　when　he　chanced　to　meet　me　and　Adèle　in　the　grounds：　and　while　she　played　with　Pilot　and　her　shuttlecock；　he　asked　me　to　walk　up　and　down　a　long　beech　avenue　within　sight　of　her。
He　then　said　that　she　was　the　daughter　of　a　French　opera…dancer；　Céline　Varens；　towards　whom　he　had　once　cherished　what　he　called　a　“grande　passion。”　This　passion　Céline　had　professed　to　return　with　even　superior　ardour。　He　thought　himself　her　idol；　ugly　as　he　was：　he　believed；　as　he　said；　that　she　preferred　his　“taille　d’athlète”　to　the　elegance　of　the　Apollo　Belvidere。
“And；　Miss　Eyre；　so　much　was　I　flattered　by　this　preference　of　the　Gallic　sylph　for　her　British　gnome；　that　I　installed　her　in　an　hotel；　gave　her　a　plete　establishment　of　servants；　a　carriage；　cashmeres；　diamonds；　dentelles；　&c。　In　short；　I　began　the　process　of　ruining　myself　in　the　received　style；　like　any　other　spoony。　I　had　not；　it　seems；　the　originality　to　chalk　out　a　new　road　to　shame　and　destruction；　but　trode　the　old　track　with　stupid　exactness　not　to　deviate　an　inch　from　the　beaten　centre。　I　had—as　I　deserved　to　have—the　fate　of　all　other　spoonies。　Happening　to　call　one　evening　when　Céline　did　not　expect　me；　I　found　her　out；　but　it　was　a　warm　night；　and　I　was　tired　with　strolling　through　Paris；　so　I　sat　down　in　her　boudoir；　happy　to　breathe　the　air　consecrated　so　lately　by　her　presence。　No；—I　exaggerate；　I　never　thought　there　was　any　consecrating　virtue　about　her：　it　was　rather　a　sort　of　pastille　perfume　she　had　left；　a　scent　of　musk　and　amber；　than　an　odour　of　sanctity。　I　was　just　beginning　to　stifle　with　the　fumes　of　conservatory　flowers　and　sprinkled　essences；　when　I　bethought　myself　to　open　the　window　and　step　out　on　to　the　balcony。　It　was　moonlight　and　gaslight　besides；　and　very　still　and　serene。　The　balcony　was　furnished　with　a　chair　or　two；　I　sat　down；　and　took　out　a　cigar；—I　will　take　one　now；　if　you　will　excuse　me。”
Here　ensued　a　pause；　filled　up　by　the　producing　and　lighting　of　a　cigar；　having　placed　it　to　his　lips　and　breathed　a　trail　of　Havannah　incense　on　the　freezing　and　sunless　air；　he　went　on—
“I　liked　bonbons　too　in　those　days；　Miss　Eyre；　and　I　was　croquant—　（overlook　the　barbarism）—croquant　chocolate　fits；　and　smoking　alternately；　watching　meantime　the　equipages　that　rolled　along　the　fashionable　streets　towards　the　neighbouring　opera…house；　when　in　an　elegant　close　carriage　drawn　by　a　beautiful　pair　of　English　horses；　and　distinctly　seen　in　the　brilliant　city…night；　I　recognised　the　‘voiture’　I　had　given　Céline。　She　was　returning：　of　course　my　heart　thumped　with　impatience　against　the　iron　rails　I　leant　upon。　The　carriage　stopped；　as　I　had　expected；　at　the　hotel　door；　my　flame　（that　is　the　very　word　for　an　opera　inamorata）　alighted：　though　muffed　in　a　cloak—an　unnecessary　encumbrance；　by…the…bye；　on　so　warm　a　June　evening—I　knew　her　instantly　by　her　little　foot；　seen　peeping　from　the　skirt　of　her　dress；　as　she　skipped　from　the　carriage…step。　Bending　over　the　balcony；　I　was　about　to　murmur　‘Mon　ange’—in　a　tone；　of　course；　which　should　be　audible　to　the　ear　of　love　alone—when　a　figure　jumped　from　the　carriage　after　her；　cloaked　also；　but　that　was　a　spurred　heel　which　had　rung　on　the　pavement；　and　that　was　a　hatted　head　which　now　passed　under　the　arched　porte　cochère　of　the　hotel。
“You　never　felt　jealousy；　did　you；　Miss　Eyre？　Of　course　not：　I　need　not　ask　you；　because　you　never　felt　love。　You　have　both　sentiments　yet　to　experience：　your　soul　sleeps；　the　shock　is　yet　to　be　given　which　shall　waken　it。　You　think　all　existence　lapses　in　as　quiet　a　flow　as　that　in　which　your　youth　has　hitherto　slid　away。　Floating　on　with　closed　eyes　and　muffled　ears；　you　neither　see　the　rocks　bristling　not　far　off　in　the　bed　of　the　flood；　nor　hear　the　breakers　boil　at　their　base。　But　I　tell　you—and　you　may　mark　my　words—you　will　e　some　day　to　a　craggy　pass　in　the　channel；　where　the　whole　of　life’s　stream　will　be　broken　up　into　whirl　and　tumult；　foam　and　noise：　either　you　will　be　dashed　to　atoms　on　crag　points；　or　lifted　up　and　borne　on　by　some　master…wave　into　a　calmer　current—as　I　am　now。
“I　like　this　day；　I　like　that　sky　of　steel；　I　like　the　sternness　and　stillness　of　the　world　under　this　frost。　I　like　Thornfield；　its　antiquity；　its　retirement；　its　old　crow…trees　and　thorn…trees；　its　grey　facade；　and　lines　of　dark　windows　reflecting　that　metal　welkin：　and　yet　how　long　have　I　abhorred　the　very　thought　of　it；　shunned　it　like　a　great　plague…house？　How　I　do　still　abhor　—”
He　ground　his　teeth　and　was　silent：　he　arrested　his　step　and　struck　his　boot　against　the　hard　ground。　Some　hated　thought　seemed　to　have　him　in　its　grip；　and　to　hold　him　so　tightly　that　he　could　not　advance。
We　were　ascending　the　avenue　when　he　thus　paused；　the　hall　was　before　us。　Lifting　his　eye　to　its　battlements；　he　cast　over　them　a　glare　such　as　I　never　saw　before　or　since。　Pain；　shame；　ire；　impatience；　disgust；　detestation；　seemed　momentarily　to　hold　a　quivering　conflict　in　the　large　pupil　dilating　under　his　ebon　eyebrow。　Wild　was　the　wrestle　which　should　be　paramount；　but　another　feeling　rose　and　triumphed：　something　hard　and　cynical：　self…willed　and　resolute：　it　settled　his　passion　and　petrified　his　countenance：　he　went　on—
“During　the　moment　I　was　silent；　Miss　Eyre；　I　was　arranging　a　point　with　my　destiny。　She　stood　there；　by　that　beech…trunk—a　hag　like　one　of　those　who　appeared　to　Macbeth　on　the　heath　of　Forres。　‘You　like　Thornfield？’　she　said；　lifting　her　finger；　and　then　she　wrote　in　the　air　a　memento；　which　ran　in　lurid　hieroglyphics　all　along　the　house…front；　between　the　upper　and　lower　row　of　windows；　‘Like　it　if　you　can！　Like　it　if　you　dare！’
“‘I　will　like　it；’　said　I；　‘I　dare　like　it；’　and”　（he　subjoined　moodily）　“I　will　keep　my　word；　I　will　break　obstacles　to　happiness；　to　goodness—yes；　goodness。　I　wish　to　be　a　better　man　than　I　have　been；　than　I　am；　as　Job’s　leviathan　broke　the　spear；　the　dart；　and　the　habergeon；　hindrances　which　others　count　as　iron　and　brass；　I　will　esteem　but　straw　and　rotten　wood。”
Adèle　here　ran　before　him　with　her　shuttlecock。　“Away！”　he　cried　harshly；　“keep　at　a　distance；　child；　or　go　in　to　Sophie！”　Continuing　then　to　pursue　his　walk　in　silence；　I　ventured　to　recall　him　to　the　point　whence　he　had　abruptly　diverged—
“Did　you　leave　the　balcony；　sir；”　I　asked；　“when　Mdlle。　Varens　entered？”
I　almost　expected　a　rebuff　for　this　hardly　well…timed　question；　but；　on　the　contrary；　waking　out　of　his　scowling　abstraction；　he　turned　his　eyes　towards　me；　and　the　shade　seemed　to　clear　off　his　brow。　“Oh；　I　had　forgotten　Céline！　Well；　to　resume。　When　I　saw　my　charmer　thus　e　in　acpanied　by　a　cavalier；　I　seemed　to　hear　a　hiss；　and　the　green　snake　of　jealousy；　rising　on　undulating　coils　from　the　moonlit　balcony；　glided　within　my　waistcoat；　and　ate　its　way　in　two　minutes　to　my　heart’s　core。　Strange！”　he　exclaimed；　suddenly　starting　again　from　the　point。　“Strange　that　I　should　choose　you　for　the　confidant　of　all　this；　young　lady；　passing　strange　that　you　should　listen　to　me　quietly；　as　if　it　were　the　most　usual　thing　in　the　world　for　a　man　like　me　to　tell　stories　of　his　opera…mistresses　to　a　quaint；　inexperienced　girl　like　you！　But　the　last　singularity　explains　the　first；　as　I　intimated　once　before：　you；　with　your　gravity；　considerateness；　and　caution　were　made　to　be　the　recipient　of　secrets。　Besides；　I　know　what　sort　of　a　mind　I　have　placed　in　munication　with　my　own：　I　know　it　is　one　not　liable　to　take　infection：　it　is　a　peculiar　mind：　it　is　a　unique　one。　Happily　I　do　not　mean　to　harm　it：　but；　if　I　did；　it　would　not　take　harm　from　me。　The　more　you　and　I　converse；　the　better；　for　while　I　cannot　blight　you；　you　may　refresh　me。”　After　this　digression　he　proceeded—
“I　remained　in　the　balcony。　‘They　will　e　to　her　boudoir；　no　doubt；’　thought　I：　‘let　me　prepare　an　ambush。’　So　putting　my　hand　in　through　the　open　window；　I　drew　the　curtain　over　it；　leaving　only　an　opening　through　which　I　could