基督山伯爵 英文版 The Count of Monte Cristo
大仲马 Alexandre Dumas père
Chapter 31 Page 3
"Then," cried Franz, "it is hashish! I know that -- by nameat least."
encircled it. Divan, walls,ceiling, floor, were all covered with magnificent skins assoft and downy as the richest carpets; there wereheavy-maned lion-skins from Atlas, striped tiger-skins fromBengal; panther-skins from the Cape!
"That is it precisely, Signor Aladdin; it is hashish -- thepurest and most unadulterated hashish of Alexandria, -- thehashish of Abou-Gor, the celebrated maker, the only man, theman to whom there should be built a palace, inscribed withthese words, `A grateful world to the dealer in happiness.'"
"Do you know," said Franz, "I have a very great inclinationto judge for myself of the truth or exaggeration of youreulogies."
"Judge for yourself, Signor Aladdin -- judge, but do notconfine yourself to one trial. Like everything else, we musthabituate the senses to a fresh impression, gentle orviolent, sad or joyous. There is a struggle in natureagainst this divine substance, -- in nature which is notmade for joy and clings to pain. Nature subdued must yieldin the combat, the dream must succeed to reality, and thenthe dream reigns supreme, then the dream becomes life, andlife becomes the dream. But what changes occur! It is onlyby comparing the pains of actual being with the joys of theassumed existence, that you would desire to live no longer,but to dream thus forever. When you return to this mundanesphere from your visionary world, you would seem to leave aNeapolitan spring for a Lapland winter -- to quit paradisefor earth -- heaven for hell! Taste the hashish, guest ofmine -- taste the hashish."
Franz's only reply was to take a teaspoonful of themarvellous preparation, about as much in quantity as hishost had eaten, and lift it to his mouth. "Diable!" he said,after having swallowed the divine preserve. "I do not knowif the result will be as agreeable as you describe, but thething does not appear to me as palatable as you say."
"Because your palate his not yet been attuned to thesublimity of the substances it flavors. Tell me, the firsttime you tasted oysters, tea, porter, truffles, and sundryother dainties which you now adore, did you like them? Couldyou comprehend how the Romans stuffed their pheasants withassafoetida, and the Chinese eat swallows' nests? Eh? no!Well, it is the same with hashish; only eat for a week, andnothing in the world will seem to you to equal the delicacyof its flavor, which now appears to you flat anddistasteful. Let us now go into the adjoining chamber, whichis your apartment, and Ali will bring us coffee and pipes."They both arose, and while he who called himself Sinbad --and whom we have occasionally named so, that we might, likehis guest, have some title by which to distinguish him --gave some orders to the servant, Franz entered still anotherapartment. It was simply yet richly furnished. It was round,and a large divan completely encircled it. Divan, walls,ceiling, floor, were all covered with magnificent skins assoft and downy as the richest carpets; there wereheavy-maned lion-skins from Atlas, striped tiger-skins fromBengal; panther-skins from the Cape, spotted beautifully,like those that appeared to Dante; bear-skins from Siberia,fox-skins from Norway, and so on; and all these skins werestrewn in profusion one on the other, so that it seemed likewalking over the most mossy turf, or reclining on the mostluxurious bed. Both laid themselves down on the divan;chibouques with jasmine tubes and amber mouthpieces werewithin reach, and all prepared so that there was no need tosmoke the same pipe twice. Each of them took one, which Alilighted and then retired to prepare the coffee. There was amoment's silence, during which Sinbad gave himself up tothoughts that seemed to occupy him incessantly, even in themidst of his conversation; and Franz abandoned himself tothat mute revery, into which we always sink when smokingexcellent tobacco, which seems to remove with its fume allthe troubles of the mind, and to give the smoker in exchangeall the visions of the soul. Ali brought in the coffee. "Howdo you take it?" inquired the unknown; "in the French orTurkish style, strong or weak, sugar or none, cool orboiling? As you please; it is ready in all ways."
"I will take it in the Turkish style," replied Franz.
"And you are right," said his host; "it shows you have atendency for an Oriental life. Ah, those Orientals; they arethe only men who know how to live. As for me," he added,with one of those singular smiles which did not escape theyoung man, "when I have completed my affairs in Paris, Ishall go and die in the East; and should you wish to see meagain, you must seek me at Cairo, Bagdad, or Ispahan."
"Ma foi," said Franz, "it would be the easiest thing in theworld; for I feel eagle's wings springing out at myshoulders, and with those wings I could make a tour of theworld in four and twenty hours."
"Ah, yes, the hashish is beginning its work. Well, unfurlyour wings, and fly into superhuman regions; fear nothing,there is a watch over you; and if your wings, like those ofIcarus, melt before the sun, we are here to ease your fall."He then said something in Arabic to Ali, who made a sign ofobedience and withdrew, but not to any distance. As to Franza strange transformation had taken place in him. All thebodily fatigue of the day, all the preoccupation of mindwhich the events of the evening had brought on, disappearedas they do at the first approach of sleep, when we are stillsufficiently conscious to be aware of the coming of slumber.His body seemed to acquire an airy lightness, his perceptionbrightened in a remarkable manner, his senses seemed toredouble their power, the horizon continued to expand; butit was not the gloomy horizon of vague alarms, and which hehad seen before he slept, but a blue, transparent, unboundedhorizon, with all the blue of the ocean, all the spangles ofthe sun, all the perfumes of the summer breeze; then, in themidst of the songs of his sailors, -- songs so clear andsonorous, that they would have made a divine harmony hadtheir notes been taken down, -- he saw the Island of MonteCristo, no longer as a threatening rock in the midst of thewaves, but as an oasis in the desert; then, as his boat drewnearer, the songs became louder, for an enchanting andmysterious harmony rose to heaven, as if some Loreley haddecreed to attract a soul thither, or Amphion, theenchanter, intended there to build a city.
At length the boat touched the shore, but without effort,without shock, as lips touch lips; and he entered the grottoamidst continued strains of most delicious melody. Hedescended, or rather seemed to descend, several steps,inhaling the fresh and balmy air, like that which may besupposed to reign around the grotto of Circe, formed fromsuch perfumes as set the mind a dreaming, and such fires asburn the very senses; and he saw again all he had seenbefore his sleep, from Sinbad, his singular host, to Ali,the mute attendant; then all seemed to fade away and becomeconfused before his eyes, like the last shadows of the magiclantern before it is extinguished, and he was again in thechamber of statues, lighted only by one of those pale andantique lamps which watch in the dead of the night over thesleep of pleasure. They were the same statues, rich in form,in attraction, and poesy, with eyes of fascination, smilesof love, and bright and flowing hair. They were Phryne,Cleopatra, Messalina, those three celebrated courtesans.Then among them glided like a pure ray, like a Christianangel in the midst of Olympus, one of those chaste figures,those calm shadows, those soft visions, which seemed to veilits virgin brow before these marble wantons. Then the threestatues advanced towards him with looks of love, andapproached the couch on which he was reposing, their feethidden in their long white tunics, their throats bare, hairflowing like waves, and assuming attitudes which the godscould not resist, but which saints withstood, and looksinflexible and ardent like those with which the serpentcharms the bird; and then he gave way before looks that heldhim in a torturing grasp and delighted his senses as with avoluptuous kiss. It seemed to Franz that he closed his eyes,and in a last look about him saw the vision of modestycompletely veiled; and then followed a dream of passion likethat promised by the Prophet to the elect. Lips of stoneturned to flame, breasts of ice became like heated lava, sothat to Franz, yielding for the first time to the sway ofthe drug, love was a sorrow and voluptuousness a torture, asburning mouths were pressed to his thirsty lips, and he washeld in cool serpent-like embraces. The more he stroveagainst this unhallowed passion the more his senses yieldedto its thrall, and at length, weary of a struggle that taxedhis very soul, he gave way and sank back breathless andexhausted beneath the kisses of these marble goddesses, andthe enchantment of his marvellous dream.