简.爱 英文版 Jane Eyre
夏洛蒂.勃朗特 Charlotte Bronte
CHAPTER XI Page 2
"Ah!" cried she, in French, "you speak my language as well asMr. Rochester does: I can talk to you as I can to him, and so canSophie. She will be glad: nobody here understands her: MadameFairfax is all English. Sophie is my nurse; she came with me overthe sea in a great ship with a chimney that smoked -- how it didsmoke! -- and I was sick, and so was Sophie, and so was Mr. Rochester.Mr. Rochester lay down on a sofa in a pretty room called the salon,and Sophie and I had little beds in another place. I nearly fellout of mine; it was like a shelf. And Mademoiselle -- what is yourname?"
"Eyre -- Jane Eyre. "
"Aire? Bah! I cannot say it. Well, our ship stopped in themorning, before it was quite daylight, at a great city -- a hugecity, with very dark houses and all smoky; not at all like thepretty clean town I came from; and Mr. Rochester carried me in hisarms over a plank to the land, and Sophie came after, and we allgot into a coach, which took us to a beautiful large house, largerthan this and finer, called an hotel. We stayed there nearly aweek: I and Sophie used to walk every day in a great green placefull of trees, called the Park; and there were many children therebesides me, and a pond with beautiful birds in it, that I fed withcrumbs. "
"Can you understand her when she runs on so fast?" asked Mrs.Fairfax.
I understood her very well, for I had been accustomed to the fluenttongue of Madame Pierrot.
"I wish, " continued the good lady, "you would ask her a questionor two about her parents: I wonder if she remembers them?"
"Adele, " I inquired, "with whom did you live when you were in thatpretty clean town you spoke of?"
"I lived long ago with mama; but she is gone to the Holy Virgin.Mama used to teach me to dance and sing, and to say verses. Agreat many gentlemen and ladies came to see mama, and I used todance before them, or to sit on their knees and sing to them: Iliked it. Shall I let you hear me sing now?"
She had finished her breakfast, so I permitted her to give a specimenof her accomplishments. Descending from her chair, she came andplaced herself on my knee; then, folding her little hands demurelybefore her, shaking back her curls and lifting her eyes to theceiling, she commenced singing a song from some opera. It was thestrain of a forsaken lady, who, after bewailing the perfidy of herlover, calls pride to her aid; desires her attendant to deck herin her brightest jewels and richest robes, and resolves to meet thefalse one that night at a ball, and prove to him, by the gaiety ofher demeanour, how little his desertion has affected her.
The subject seemed strangely chosen for an infant singer; butI suppose the point of the exhibition lay in hearing the notes oflove and jealousy warbled with the lisp of childhood; and in verybad taste that point was: at least I thought so.
Adele sang the canzonette tunefully enough, and with the naiveteof her age. This achieved, she jumped from my knee and said, "Now,Mademoiselle, I will repeat you some poetry. "
Assuming an attitude, she began, "La Ligue des Rats: fable de LaFontaine. " She then declaimed the little piece with an attentionto punctuation and emphasis, a flexibility of voice and anappropriateness of gesture, very unusual indeed at her age, andwhich proved she had been carefully trained.
"Was it your mama who taught you that piece?" I asked.
"Yes, and she just used to say it in this way: 'Qu' avez vousdonc? lui dit un de ces rats; parlez!' She made me lift my hand-- so -- to remind me to raise my voice at the question. Now shallI dance for you?"
"With Madame Frederic and her husband: she took care of me, butshe is nothing related to me. I think she is poor, for she hadnot so fine a house as mama. I was not long there. Mr. Rochesterasked me if I would like to go and live with him in England, and Isaid yes; for I knew Mr. Rochester before I knew Madame Frederic,and he was always kind to me and gave me pretty dresses and toys:but you see he has not kept his word, for he has brought me toEngland, and now he is gone back again himself, and I never seehim. "
After breakfast, Adele and I withdrew to the library, which room,it appears, Mr. Rochester had directed should be used as theschoolroom. Most of the books were locked up behind glass doors;but there was one bookcase left open containing everything thatcould be needed in the way of elementary works, and several volumesof light literature, poetry, biography, travels, a few romances,&c. I suppose he had considered that these were all the governesswould require for her private perusal; and, indeed, they contentedme amply for the present; compared with the scanty pickings I hadnow and then been able to glean at Lowood, they seemed to offer anabundant harvest of entertainment and information. In this room,too, there was a cabinet piano, quite new and of superior tone;also an easel for painting and a pair of globes.
I found my pupil sufficiently docile, though disinclined to apply:she had not been used to regular occupation of any kind. I feltit would be injudicious to confine her too much at first; so, whenI had talked to her a great deal, and got her to learn a little,and when the morning had advanced to noon, I allowed her to returnto her nurse. I then proposed to occupy myself till dinner-timein drawing some little sketches for her use.
As I was going upstairs to fetch my portfolio and pencils, Mrs.Fairfax called to me: "Your morning school-hours are over now, Isuppose, " said she. She was in a room the folding-doors of whichstood open: I went in when she addressed me. It was a large,stately apartment, with purple chairs and curtains, a Turkey carpet,walnut-panelled walls, one vast window rich in slanted glass, anda lofty ceiling, nobly moulded. Mrs. Fairfax was dusting somevases of fine purple spar, which stood on a sideboard.
"What a beautiful room!" I exclaimed, as I looked round; for Ihad never before seen any half so imposing.
"Yes; this is the dining-room. I have just opened the window, tolet in a little air and sunshine; for everything gets so damp inapartments that are seldom inhabited; the drawing-room yonder feelslike a vault. "
She pointed to a wide arch corresponding to the window, and hung likeit with a Tyrian-dyed curtain, now looped up. Mounting to it bytwo broad steps, and looking through, I thought I caught a glimpseof a fairy place, so bright to my novice-eyes appeared the viewbeyond. Yet it was merely a very pretty drawing-room, and withinit a boudoir, both spread with white carpets, on which seemed laidbrilliant garlands of flowers; both ceiled with snowy mouldings ofwhite grapes and vine-leaves, beneath which glowed in rich contrastcrimson couches and ottomans; while the ornaments on the paleParisian mantelpiece were of sparkling Bohemian glass, ruby red;and between the windows large mirrors repeated the general blendingof snow and fire.
"In what order you keep these rooms, Mrs. Fairfax!" said I. "Nodust, no canvas coverings: except that the air feels chilly, onewould think they were inhabited daily. "
"Why, Miss Eyre, though Mr. Rochester's visits here are rare, theyare always sudden and unexpected; and as I observed that it puthim out to find everything swathed up, and to have a bustle ofarrangement on his arrival, I thought it best to keep the rooms inreadiness. "
"Is Mr. Rochester an exacting, fastidious sort of man?"
"Not particularly so; but he has a gentleman's tastes and habits,and he expects to have things managed in conformity to them. "
"Do you like him? Is he generally liked?"
"Oh, yes; the family have always been respected here. Almost allthe land in this neighbourhood, as far as you can see, has belongedto the Rochesters time out of mind. "
"Well, but, leaving his land out of the question, do you like him?Is he liked for himself?"
"I have no cause to do otherwise than like him; and I believe heis considered a just and liberal landlord by his tenants: but hehas never lived much amongst them. "
"But has he no peculiarities? What, in short, is his character?"
't: but it is of no consequence, he ?
"Oh! his character is unimpeachable, I suppose. He is ratherpeculiar, perhaps: he has travelled a great deal, and seen a greatdeal of the world, I should think. I dare say he is clever, butI never had much conversation with him. "
"In what way is he peculiar?"
"I don't know -- it is not easy to describe -- nothing striking,but you feel it when he speaks to you; you cannot be always surewhether he is in jest or earnest, whether he is pleased or thecontrary; you don't thoroughly understand him, in short -- at least,I don't: but it is of no consequence, he is a very good master. "
This was all the account I got from Mrs. Fairfax of her employerand mine. There are people who seem to have no notion of sketchinga character, or observing and describing salient points, either inpersons or things: the good lady evidently belonged to this class;my queries puzzled, but did not draw her out. Mr. Rochester wasMr. Rochester in her eyes; a gentleman, a landed proprietor --nothing more: she inquired and searched no further, and evidentlywondered at my wish to gain a more definite notion of his identity.
When we left the dining-room, she proposed to show me over the restof the house; and I followed her upstairs and downstairs, admiringas I went; for all was well arranged and handsome. The large frontchambers I thought especially grand: and some of the third-storeyrooms, though dark and low, were interesting from their air ofantiquity. The furniture once appropriated to the lower apartmentshad from time to time been removed here, as fashions changed:and the imperfect light entering by their narrow casement showedbedsteads of a hundred years old; chests in oak or walnut, looking,with their strange carvings of palm branches and cherubs' heads,like types of the Hebrew ark; rows of venerable chairs, high-backedand narrow; stools still more antiquated, on whose cushioned topswere yet apparent traces of half-effaced embroideries, wrought byfingers that for two generations had been coffin-dust. All theserelics gave to the third storey of Thornfield Hall the aspect of ahome of the past: a shrine of memory. I liked the hush, the gloom,the quaintness of these retreats in the day; but I by no meanscoveted a night's repose on one of those wide and heavy beds: shutin, some of them, with doors of oak; shaded, others, with wroughtold English hangings crusted with thick work, portraying effigiesof strange flowers, and stranger birds, and strangest human beings,-- all which would have looked strange, indeed, by the pallid gleamof moonlight.
"Do the servants sleep in these rooms?" I asked.
"No; they occupy a range of smaller apartments to the back; noone ever sleeps here: one would almost say that, if there were aghost at Thornfield Hall, this would be its haunt. "
"So I think: you have no ghost, then?"
"None that I ever heard of, " returned Mrs. Fairfax, smiling.
"Nor any traditions of one? no legends or ghost stories?"
"I believe not. And yet it is said the Rochesters have been rathera violent than a quiet race in their time: perhaps, though, thatis the reason they rest tranquilly in their graves now. "
"Yes -- 'after life's fitful fever they sleep well, '" I muttered."Where are you going now, Mrs. Fairfax?" for she was moving away.
"On to the leads; will you come and see the view from thence?" Ifollowed still, up a very narrow staircase to the attics, and thenceby a ladder and through a trap-door to the roof of the hall. Iwas now on a level with the crow colony, and could see into theirnests. Leaning over the battlements and looking far down, Isurveyed the grounds laid out like a map: the bright and velvetlawn closely girdling the grey base of the mansion; the field,wide as a park, dotted with its ancient timber; the wood, dun andsere, divided by a path visibly overgrown, greener with moss thanthe trees were with foliage; the church at the gates, the road, thetranquil hills, all reposing in the autumn day's sun; the horizonbounded by a propitious sky, azure, marbled with pearly white. Nofeature in the scene was extraordinary, but all was pleasing. WhenI turned from it and repassed the trap-door, I could scarcely seemy way down the ladder; the attic seemed black as a vault comparedwith that arch of blue air to which I had been looking up, and tothat sunlit scene of grove, pasture, and green hill, of which thehall was the centre, and over which I had been gazing with delight.
Mrs. Fairfax stayed behind a moment to fasten the trap-door; I, bydrift of groping, found the outlet from the attic, and proceededto descend the narrow garret staircase. I lingered in the longpassage to which this led, separating the front and back rooms ofthe third storey: narrow, low, and dim, with only one little windowat the far end, and looking, with its two rows of small black doorsall shut, like a corridor in some Bluebeard's castle.
While I paced softly on, the last sound I expected to hear in sostill a region, a laugh, struck my ear. It was a curious laugh;distinct, formal, mirthless. I stopped: the sound ceased, onlyfor an instant; it began again, louder: for at first, thoughdistinct, it was very low. It passed off in a clamorous peal thatseemed to wake an echo in every lonely chamber; though it originatedbut in one, and I could have pointed out the door whence the accentsissued.
"Mrs. Fairfax!" I called out: for I now heard her descending thegreat stairs. "Did you hear that loud laugh? Who is it?"
mama; but she is gone to the Holy Virgin.
"Some of the servants, very likely, " she answered: "perhaps GracePoole. "
"Did you hear it?" I again inquired.
"Yes, plainly: I often hear her: she sews in one of these rooms.Sometimes Leah is with her; they are frequently noisy together. "
The laugh was repeated in its low, syllabic tone, and terminatedin an odd murmur.
"Grace!" exclaimed Mrs. Fairfax.
I really did not expect any Grace to answer; for the laugh wasas tragic, as preternatural a laugh as any I ever heard; and, butthat it was high noon, and that no circumstance of ghostlinessaccompanied the curious cachinnation; but that neither scene norseason favoured fear, I should have been superstitiously afraid.However, the event showed me I was a fool for entertaining a senseeven of surprise.
The door nearest me opened, and a servant came out, -- a woman ofbetween thirty and forty; a set, square-made figure, red-haired,and with a hard, plain face: any apparition less romantic or lessghostly could scarcely be conceived.
"Too much noise, Grace, " said Mrs. Fairfax. "Remember directions!"Grace curtseyed silently and went in.
"She is a person we have to sew and assist Leah in her housemaid'swork, " continued the widow; "not altogether unobjectionable in somepoints, but she does well enough. By-the-bye, how have you got onwith your new pupil this morning?"
The conversation, thus turned on Adele, continued till we reachedthe light and cheerful region below. Adele came runningto meet us in the hall, exclaiming -
"Mesdames, vous etes servies!" adding, "J'ai bien faim, moi!"
We found dinner ready, and waiting for us in Mrs. Fairfax's room.