拉帕其尼的女兒（二）

By Nathaniel Hawthorne

《拉帕其尼的女兒》是小說集《小伙子古德曼》（Young Goodman Brown）中的一個短篇。作者霍桑（Nathaniel Hawthorne）的特點(diǎn)是善于把古典寓言故事的寓意融合在他的作品里。本篇節(jié)選講述的是與比阿特麗絲（Beatrice）接觸了數(shù)次后，喬萬尼（Giovanni）發(fā)現(xiàn)自己變得跟比阿特麗絲一樣致命了。之前喬萬尼被她的美貌深深吸引，但后來他發(fā)現(xiàn)劇毒也是她吸引他的原因。在喬萬尼確認(rèn)自己變得像比阿特麗絲之后，他的態(tài)度發(fā)生了翻天覆地的轉(zhuǎn)變，由原本對她的愛慕轉(zhuǎn)為憎惡。喬萬尼全然忘記了當(dāng)初是自己主動接近比阿特麗絲的，并質(zhì)問她為什么要把毒性傳染給自己。比阿特麗絲為了證明自己的清白，喝下了喬萬尼給她的解毒劑，想把體內(nèi)的劇毒消除，卻意外地被解毒劑殺死了。

Throughout Giovannis whole acquaintance（相識）with Beatrice， he had occasionally， as we have said， been haunted by dark surmises（猜測）as to her character； yet so thoroughly had she made herself felt by him as a simple， natural， most affectionate（深情的）， and guileless（誠實的）creature， that the image now held up by Professor Baglioni looked as strange and incredible as if it were not in accordance with his own original conception. True， there were ugly recollections（回憶）connected with his first glimpses of the beautiful girl； he could not quite forget the bouquet（花束）that withered in her grasp， and the insect that perished（死亡）amid the sunny air， by no ostensible（表面的）agency（中介）save the fragrance of her breath. These incidents， however， dissolving in the pure light of her character， had no longer the efficacy（功效）of facts， but were acknowledged as mistaken fantasies， by whatever testimony（證據(jù)）of the senses they might appear to be substantiated（被證實的）. There is something truer and more real than what we can see with the eyes and touch with the finger. On such better evidence had Giovanni founded his confidence in Beatrice， though rather by the necessary force of her high attributes（屬性）than by any deep and generous faith on his part. But now his spirit was incapable of sustaining itself at the height to which the early enthusiasm of passion had exalted（使激動）it； he fell down， grovelling（卑躬屈膝）among earthly doubts， and defiled（玷污）therewith the pure whiteness of Beatrices image. Not that he gave her up； he did but distrust. He resolved to institute（制定）some decisive test that should satisfy him， once for all， whether there were those dreadful（可怕的）peculiarities（獨(dú)特性）in her physical nature which could not be supposed to exist without some corresponding（相應(yīng)的）monstrosity（殘暴）of soul. His eyes， gazing down afar， might have deceived him as to the lizard， the insect， and the flowers； but if he could witness， at the distance of a few paces， the sudden blight（枯萎）of one fresh and healthful flower in Beatrices hand， there would be room for no further question. With this idea he hastened to the florists and purchased a bouquet that was still gemmed with the morning dewdrops.

It was now the customary hour of his daily interview with Beatrice. Before descending into the garden， Giovanni failed not to look at his figure in the mirror， —a vanity（虛榮心）to be expected in a beautiful young man， yet， as displaying itself at that troubled and feverish（極度興奮的）moment， the token（表征）of a certain shallowness of feeling and insincerity（偽善）of character. He did gaze， however， and said to himself that his features had never before possessed so rich a grace， nor his eyes such vivacity（精力充沛）， nor his cheeks so warm a hue of superabundant（過多的）life.

“At least，” thought he， “her poison has not yet insinuated（潛入）itself into my system. I am no flower to perish in her grasp.”

With that thought he turned his eyes on the bouquet， which he had never once laid aside from his hand. A thrill of indefinable（模糊不清的）horror shot through his frame on perceiving that those dewy flowers were already beginning to droop（垂落）； they wore the aspect of things that had been fresh and lovely yesterday. Giovanni grew white as marble， and stood motionless（靜止的）before the mirror， staring at his own reflection there as at the likeness of something frightful. He remembered Baglionis remake about the fragrance that seemed to pervade（彌漫）the chamber. It must have been the poison in his breath！ Then he shuddered（發(fā)抖）， —shuddered at himself. Recovering from his stupor（恍惚）， he began to watch with curious eye a spider that was busily at work hanging its web from the antique（古風(fēng)的）cornice（檐口）of the apartment， crossing and recrossing the artful system of interwoven（交織的）lines， —as vigorous（有力的）and active a spider as ever dangled from an old ceiling. Giovanni bent towards the insect， and emitted a deep， long breath. The spider suddenly ceased（停止）its toil（苦工）； the web vibrated with a tremor originating in the body of the small artisan（工匠）. Again Giovanni sent forth a breath， deeper， longer， and imbued（灌輸）with a venomous（惡毒的）feeling out of his heart： he knew not whether he were wicked（缺德的，邪惡的）， or only desperate. The spider made a convulsive（抽搐的，猛烈的）gripe（絞痛）with his limbs and hung dead across the window.

“Accursed（被詛咒的）！ accursed！” muttered Giovanni， addressing himself. “Hast thou（同have you）grown so poisonous that this deadly insect perishes by thy（同your）breath？”

At that moment a rich， sweet voice came floating up from the garden.

“Giovanni！ Giovanni！ It is past the hour！ Why tarriest（耽擱，逗留）thou？ Come down！”

“Yes，” muttered Giovanni again. “She is the only being whom my breath may not slay！ Would that it might！”

He rushed down， and in an instant was standing before the bright and loving eyes of Beatrice. A moment ago his wrath（憤怒）and despair had been so fierce that he could have desired nothing so much as to wither her by a glance； but with her actual presence there came influences which had too real an existence to be at once shaken off； recollections of the delicate and benign（和善的）power of her feminine nature， which had so often enveloped（包圍）him in a religious calm； recollections of many a holy and passionate outgush（涌出）of her heart， when the pure fountain had been unsealed from its depths and made visible in its transparency（透明性）to his mental eye； recollections which， had Giovanni known how to estimate them， would have assured him that all this ugly mystery was but an earthly illusion（幻覺）， and that， whatever mist of evil might seem to have gathered over her， the real Beatrice was a heavenly angel. In capable as he was of such high faith， still her presence had not utterly（完全地）lost its magic. Giovannis rage was quelled（平息）into an aspect of sullen（慍怒的）insensibility（不在乎）. Beatrice， with a quick spiritual sense， immediately felt that there was a gulf of blackness between them which neither he nor she could pass. They walked on together， sad and silent， and came thus to the marble fountain and to its pool of water on the ground， in the midst of which grew the shrub that bore gemlike blossoms. Giovanni was affrighted（受驚嚇的）at the eager enjoyment—the appetite（嗜好）， as it were—with which he found himself inhaling the fragrance of the flowers.

“Beatrice，” asked he， abruptly， “whence came this shrub？”

“My father created it，” answered she， with simplicity.

“Created it！ created it！” repeated Giovanni. “What mean you， Beatrice？”

“He is a man fearfully acquainted with the secrets of nature，” replied Beatrice； “and， at the hour when I first drew breath， this plant sprang from the soil， the offspring（產(chǎn)物）of his science， of his intellect， while I was but his earthly child. Approach it not！” continued she， observing with terror that Giovanni was drawing nearer to the shrub. “It has qualities that you little dream of. But I， dearest Giovanni， —I grew up and blossomed（開花）with the plant and was nourished（撫養(yǎng)）with its breath. It was my sister， and I loved it with a human affection， for， alas！ —hast thou not suspected it？—there was an awful doom（厄運(yùn)）.”

Here Giovanni frowned so darkly upon her that Beatrice paused and trembled. But her faith in his tenderness reassured（使安心）her， and made her blush that she had doubted for an instant.

“There was an awful doom，” she continued， “the effect of my fathers fatal love of science， which estranged（使疏遠(yuǎn)）me from all society of my kind. Until Heaven sent thee， dearest Giovanni， O， how lonely was thy poor Beatrice！”

“Was it a hard doom？” asked Giovanni， fixing his eyes upon her.

“Only of late have I known how hard it was，” answered she， tenderly. “O yes； but my heart was torpid（遲鈍的）， and therefore quiet.”

Giovannis rage broke forth from his sullen gloom like a lightning flash out of a dark cloud.

“Accursed one！” cried he， with venomous scorn and anger. “And， finding thy solitude wearisome， thou hast severed me likewise from all the warmth of life and enticed（引誘）me into thy region of unspeakable horror！”

“Giovanni！” exclaimed Beatrice， turning her large bright eyes upon his face. The force of his words had not found its way into her mind； she was merely thunderstruck.

“Yes， poisonous thing！” repeated Giovanni， beside himself with passion. “Thou hast done it！ Thou hast blasted me！ Thou hast filled my veins with poison！ Thou hast made me as hateful， as ugly， as loathsome（令人厭惡的）and deadly a creature as thyself， —a worlds wonder of hideous monstrosity！ Now， if our breath be happily as fatal to ourselves as to all others， let us join our lips in one kiss of unutterable（無法用言語表達(dá)的）hatred， and so die！”

“What has befallen（發(fā)生）me？” murmured Beatrice， with a low moan out of her heart. “Holy Virgin， pity me， a poor heart-broken child！”

“Thou， —dost thou（同do you）pray？” cried Giovanni， still with the same fiendish（惡魔似的）scorn. “Thy very prayers， as they come from thy lips， taint the atmosphere with death. Yes， yes； let us pray！ Let us to church and dip our fingers in the holy water at the portal（大門）！ They that come after us will perish as by a pestilence（瘟疫）！ Let us sign crosses in the air！ It will be scattering curses abroad in the likeness of holy symbols！”

“Giovanni，” said Beatrice， calmly， for her grief was beyond passion， “why dost thou join thyself with me thus in those terrible words？ I， it is true， am the horrible thing thou namest（稱呼）me. But thou， —what hast thou to do， save with one other shudder at my hideous misery to go forth out of the garden and mingle（混合）with thy race， and forget that there ever crawled on earth such a monster as poor Beatrice？”

“Dost thou pretend ignorance？” asked Giovanni， scowling upon her. “Behold（看?。?！ This power have I gained from the pure daughter of Rappaccini.”