简.爱 英文版 Jane Eyre
夏洛蒂.勃朗特 Charlotte Bronte
CHAPTER XIV Page 2
"It will sting -- it will taste bitter, sir. "
"How do you know? -- you never tried it. How very serious -- howvery solemn you look: and you are as ignorant of the matter asthis cameo head" (taking one from the mantelpiece). "You have noright to preach to me, you neophyte, that have not passed the porchof life, and are absolutely unacquainted with its mysteries. "
"I only remind you of your own words, sir: you said error broughtremorse, and you pronounced remorse the poison of existence. "
"And who talks of error now? I scarcely think the notionthat flittered across my brain was an error. I believe it was aninspiration rather than a temptation: it was very genial, verysoothing -- I know that. Here it comes again! It is no devil,I assure you; or if it be, it has put on the robes of an angel oflight. I think I must admit so fair a guest when it asks entranceto my heart. "
"Distrust it, sir; it is not a true angel. "
"Once more, how do you know? By what instinct do you pretend todistinguish between a fallen seraph of the abyss and a messengerfrom the eternal throne -- between a guide and a seducer?"
"I judged by your countenance, sir, which was troubled when yousaid the suggestion had returned upon you. I feel sure it willwork you more misery if you listen to it. "
"Not at all -- it bears the most gracious message in the world: forthe rest, you are not my conscience-keeper, so don't make yourselfuneasy. Here, come in, bonny wanderer!"
He said this as if he spoke to a vision, viewless to any eye buthis own; then, folding his arms, which he had half extended, on hischest, he seemed to enclose in their embrace the invisible being.
"Now, " he continued, again addressing me, "I have received thepilgrim -- a disguised deity, as I verily believe. Already ithas done me good: my heart was a sort of charnel; it will now bea shrine. "
"To speak truth, sir, I don't understand you at all: I cannot keepup the conversation, because it has got out of my depth. Only onething, I know: you said you were not as good as you should liketo be, and that you regretted your own imperfection; -- one thingI can comprehend: you intimated that to have a sullied memorywas a perpetual bane. It seems to me, that if you tried hard, youwould in time find it possible to become what you yourself wouldapprove; and that if from this day you began with resolution tocorrect your thoughts and actions, you would in a few years havelaid up a new and stainless store of recollections, to which youmight revert with pleasure. "
"Justly thought; rightly said, Miss Eyre; and, at this moment, Iam paving hell with energy. "
"Sir?"
"I am laying down good intentions, which I believe durable asflint. Certainly, my associates and pursuits shall be other thanthey have been. "
"And better?"
"And better -- so much better as pure ore is than foul dross. Youseem 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, unalterableas that of the Medes and Persians, that both are right. "
"They cannot be, sir, if they require a new statute to legalisethem. "
"They are, Miss Eyre, though they absolutely require a new statute:unheard-of combinations of circumstances demand unheard-of rules. "
"That sounds a dangerous maxim, sir; because one can see at oncethat it is liable to abuse. "
"Sententious sage! so it is: but I swear by my household godsnot 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 thedivine 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 tocontinue a discourse which was all darkness to me; and, besides,sensible that the character of my interlocutor was beyond mypenetration; at least, beyond its present reach; and feeling theuncertainty, the vague sense of insecurity, which accompanies aconviction of ignorance.
"Where are you going?"
"To put Adele to bed: it is past her bedtime. "
"You are afraid of me, because I talk like a Sphynx. "
very short, and as full in the skirt asit could .
"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 talknonsense. "
"If you did, it would be in such a grave, quiet manner, I shouldmistake it for sense. Do you never laugh, Miss Eyre? Don'ttrouble yourself to answer -- I see you laugh rarely; but you canlaugh very merrily: believe me, you are not naturally austere,any more than I am naturally vicious. The Lowood constraint stillclings to you somewhat; controlling your features, muffling yourvoice, and restricting your limbs; and you fear in the presence ofa 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 findit impossible to be conventional with you; and then your looks andmovements will have more vivacity and variety than they dare offernow. I see at intervals the glance of a curious sort of birdthrough the close-set bars of a cage: a vivid, restless, resolutecaptive is there; were it but free, it would soar cloud-high. Youare still bent on going?"
"It has struck nine, sir. "
"Never mind, -- wait a minute: Adele is not ready to go to bedyet. My position, Miss Eyre, with my back to the fire, and my faceto the room, favours observation. While talking to you, I havealso occasionally watched Adele (I have my own reasons for thinkingher a curious study, -- reasons that I may, nay, that I shall,impart to you some day). She pulled out of her box, about tenminutes ago, a little pink silk frock; rapture lit her face as sheunfolded 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 e l'instant meme!' and she rushed out of the room.She is now with Sophie, undergoing a robing process: in a few minutesshe will re-enter; and I know what I shall see, -- a miniature ofCeline Varens, as she used to appear on the boards at the rising of-- But never mind that. However, my tenderest feelings are aboutto receive a shock: such is my presentiment; stay now, to seewhether it will be realised. "
Ere long, Adele's little foot was heard tripping across the hall.She entered, transformed as her guardian had predicted. A dressof rose-coloured satin, very short, and as full in the skirt asit could be gathered, replaced the brown frock she had previouslyworn; a wreath of rosebuds circled her forehead; her feet weredressed in silk stockings and small white satin sandals.
"Est-ce que ma robe va bien?" cried she, bounding forwards; "etmes souliers? et mes bas? Tenez, je crois que je vais danser!"
And spreading out her dress, she chasseed across the room till,having reached Mr. Rochester, she wheeled lightly round beforehim on tip-toe, then dropped on one knee at his feet, exclaiming -
"Monsieur, je vous remercie mille fois de votre bonte;" thenrising, she added, "C'est comme cela que maman faisait, n'est-cepas, monsieur?"
"Pre-cise-ly!" was the answer; "and, 'comme cela, ' she charmedmy English gold out of my British breeches' pocket. I have beengreen, too, Miss Eyre, -- ay, grass green: not a more vernaltint 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 rootwhence it sprang; having found that it was of a sort which nothingbut 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 andrear it rather on the Roman Catholic principle of expiating numeroussins, great or small, by one good work. I'll explain all this someday. Good-night. "