酷兔英语
    当前位置:
  1. 首页
  2. 文章
  3. 娱乐英语
  4. 原版小说
  5. 正文

Beauty and The Beast-Part4_Bayard Taylor(1825-1878)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

0 收藏 0 分享 0 赞

章节正文
文章总共2页
he was careful not to prolong his visit beyond the limits of strict



etiquette. His name, Boris Alexeivitch, only revealed to his

guests the name of his father, without his rank; and when he stated



that he was employed in one of the Departments, (which was true in

a measure, for he was a staff officer,) they could only look upon



him as being, at best, a member of some family whose recent

elevation to the nobility did not release them from the necessity



of Government service. Of course he employed the usual pretext of

wishing to study music, and either by that or some other stratagem



managed to leave matters in such a shape that a second visit could

not occasion surprise.



As the sled glided homewards over the crackling snow, he was

obliged to confess the existence of a new and powerful excitement.



Was it the chance of an adventure, such as certain of his comrades

were continually seeking? He thought not; no, decidedly not. Was



it--could it be--love? He really could not tell; he had not the

slightset idea what love was like.



VI.

It was something at least, that the plastic and not un-virtuous



nature of the young man was directed towards a definite object.

The elements out of which he was made, although somewhat diluted,



were active enough to make him uncomfortable, so long as they

remained in a confused state. He had very little power of



introversion, but he was sensible that his temperament was

changing,--that he grew more cheerful and contented with life,--



that a chasm somewhere was filling up,--just in proportion as

his acquaintance with the old music-master and his daughter became



more familiar. His visits were made so brief, were so adroitly

timed and accounted for by circumstances, that by the close of Lent



he could feel justified in making the Easter call of a friend, and

claim its attendant privileges, without fear of being repulsed.



That Easter call was an era in his life. At the risk of his wealth

and rank being suspected, he dressed himself in new and rich



garments, and hurried away towards the Smolnoi. The old nurse,

Katinka, in her scarlet gown, opened the door for him, and was the



first to say, "Christ is arisen!" What could he do but give her

the usual kiss? Formerly he had kissed hundreds of serfs, men and



women, on the sacredanniversary, with a passive good-will. But

Katinka's kiss seemed bitter, and he secretly rubbed his mouth



after it. The music-master came next: grisly though he might be,

he was the St. Peter who stood at the gate of heaven. Then entered



Helena, in white, like an angel. He took her hand, pronounced the

Easter greeting, and scarcely waited for the answer, "Truly he has



arisen!" before his lips found the way to hers. For a second they

warmly trembled and glowed together; and in another second some new



and sweet and subtle relation seemed to be established between

their natures.



That night Prince Boris wrote a long letter to his "chere maman,"

in piquantly misspelt French, giving her the gossip of the court,



and such family news as she usually craved. The purport of the

letter, however, was only disclosed in the final paragraph, and



then in so negative a way that it is doubtful whether the Princess

Martha fully understood it.



"Poing de mariajes pour moix!" he wrote,--but we will drop the

original,--"I don't think of such a thing yet. Pashkoff dropped a



hint, the other day, but I kept my eyes shut. Perhaps you remember

her?--fat, thick lips, and crooked teeth. Natalie D---- said to



me, "Have you ever been in love, Prince?" HAVE I, MAMAN? I did

not know what answer to make. What is love? How does one feel,



when one has it? They laugh at it here, and of course I should not

wish to do what is laughable. Give me a hint: forewarned is



forearmed, you know,"--etc., etc.

Perhaps the Princess Martha DID suspect something; perhaps some



word in her son's letter touched a secret spot far back in her

memory, and renewed a dim, if not very intelligible, pain. She



answered his question at length, in the style of the popular French




文章总共2页
文章标签:名著  

章节正文
Copyright © 2023 Qeto All rights reserved.
商务合作 | 联系我们 | 关于我们 | 版权声明 | 隐私条款 | 如果智培

京ICP备05059198号-1 京公网安备 11011202003401号