zanoni-第75节

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already　marked；　he　cannot　fly。　　All　France　is　become　a　prison　to

the　'suspect。'　　You　do　not　endanger　yourself　by　return。　　Frankly；

citoyenne；　the　fate　you　would　share　may　be　the　guillotine。　　I

speak　（as　you　know　by　his　letter）　as　your　husband　bade　me。〃



〃Monsieur；　I　will　return　with　you；〃　said　the　woman；　with　a　smile

upon　her　pale　face。



〃And　yet　you　deserted　your　husband　in　the　fair　sunshine　of　the

Revolution；　to　return　to　him　amidst　its　storms　and　thunder；〃　said

the　man；　in　a　tone　half　of　wonder；　half　rebuke。



〃Because　my　father's　days　were　doomed；　because　he　had　no　safety

but　in　flight　to　a　foreign　land；　because　he　was　old　and

penniless；　and　had　none　but　me　to　work　for　him；　because　my

husband　was　not　then　in　danger；　and　my　father　was！　HE　is　dead

dead！　　My　husband　is　in　danger　now。　　The　daughter's　duties　are　no

more；the　wife's　return！〃



〃Be　it　so；　citoyenne；　on　the　third　night　I　depart。　　Before　then

you　may　retract　your　choice。〃



〃Never！〃



A　dark　smile　passed　over　the　man's　face。



〃O　guillotine！〃　he　said；　〃how　many　virtues　hast　thou　brought　to

light！　　Well　may　they　call　thee　'A　Holy　Mother！'　　O　gory

guillotine！〃



He　passed　on　muttering　to　himself；　hailed　a　gondola；　and　was　soon

amidst　the　crowded　waters　of　the　Grand　Canal。





CHAPTER　6。V。



Ce　que　j'ignore

Est　plus　triste　peut…etre　et　plus　affreux　encore。

La　Harpe；　〃Le　Comte　de　Warwick；〃　Act　5；　sc。　1。



（That　which　I　know　not　is；　perhaps；　more　sad　and　fearful　still。）



The　casement　stood　open；　and　Viola　was　seated　by　it。　　Beneath

sparkled　the　broad　waters　in　the　cold　but　cloudless　sunlight；　and

to　that　fair　form；　that　half…averted　face；　turned　the　eyes　of

many　a　gallant　cavalier；　as　their　gondolas　glided　by。



But　at　last；　in　the　centre　of　the　canal；　one　of　these　dark

vessels　halted　motionless；　as　a　man　fixed　his　gaze　from　its

lattice　upon　that　stately　palace。　　He　gave　the　word　to　the

rowers；the　vessel　approached　the　marge。　　The　stranger　quitted

the　gondola；　he　passed　up　the　broad　stairs；　he　entered　the

palace。　　Weep　on；　smile　no　more；　young　mother！the　last　page　is

turned！



An　attendant　entered　the　room；　and　gave　to　Viola　a　card；　with

these　words　in　English；　〃Viola；　I　must　see　you！　　Clarence

Glyndon。〃



Oh；　yes；　how　gladly　Viola　would　see　him；　how　gladly　speak　to　him

of　her　happiness；　of　Zanoni！how　gladly　show　to　him　her　child！

Poor　Clarence！　she　had　forgotten　him　till　now；　as　she　had　all　the

fever　of　her　earlier　life；its　dreams；　its　vanities；　its　poor

excitement；　the　lamps　of　the　gaudy　theatre；　the　applause　of　the

noisy　crowd。



He　entered。　　She　started　to　behold　him；　so　changed　were　his

gloomy　brow；　his　resolute；　careworn　features；　from　the　graceful

form　and　careless　countenance　of　the　artist…lover。　　His　dress；

though　not　mean；　was　rude；　neglected；　and　disordered。　　A　wild；

desperate；　half…savage　air　had　supplanted　that　ingenuous　mien；

diffident　in　its　grace；　earnest　in　its　diffidence；　which　had　once

characterised　the　young　worshipper　of　Art；　the　dreaming　aspirant

after　some　starrier　lore。



〃Is　it　you？〃　she　said　at　last。　　〃Poor　Clarence；　how　changed！〃



〃Changed！〃　he　said　abruptly；　as　he　placed　himself　by　her　side。

〃And　whom　am　I　to　thank；　but　the　fiendsthe　sorcererswho　have

seized　upon　thy　existence；　as　upon　mine？　　Viola；　hear　me。　　A　few

weeks　since　the　news　reached　me　that　you　were　in　Venice。　　Under

other　pretences；　and　through　innumerable　dangers；　I　have　come

hither；　risking　liberty；　perhaps　life；　if　my　name　and　career　are

known　in　Venice；　to　warn　and　save　you。　　Changed；　you　call　me！

changed　without；　but　what　is　that　to　the　ravages　within？　　Be

warned；　be　warned　in　time！〃



The　voice　of　Glyndon；　sounding　hollow　and　sepulchral；　alarmed

Viola　even　more　than　his　words。　　Pale；　haggard；　emaciated；　he

seemed　almost　as　one　risen　from　the　dead；　to　appall　and　awe　her。

〃What；〃　she　said；　at　last；　in　a　faltering　voice；〃what　wild

words　do　you　utter！　　Can　you〃



〃Listen！〃　interrupted　Glyndon；　laying　his　hand　upon　her　arm；　and

its　touch　was　as　cold　as　death；〃listen！　　You　have　heard　of　the

old　stories　of　men　who　have　leagued　themselves　with　devils　for

the　attainment　of　preternatural　powers。　　Those　stories　are　not

fables。　　Such　men　live。　　Their　delight　is　to　increase　the

unhallowed　circle　of　wretches　like　themselves。　　If　their

proselytes　fail　in　the　ordeal；　the　demon　seizes　them；　even　in

this　life；　as　it　hath　seized　me！if　they　succeed；　woe；　yea；　a

more　lasting　woe！　　There　is　another　life；　where　no　spells　can

charm　the　evil　one；　or　allay　the　torture。　　I　have　come　from　a

scene　where　blood　flows　in　rivers；where　Death　stands　by　the

side　of　the　bravest　and　the　highest；　and　the　one　monarch　is　the

Guillotine；　but　all　the　mortal　perils　with　which　men　can　be

beset；　are　nothing　to　the　dreariness　of　the　chamber　where　the

Horror　that　passes　death　moves　and　stirs！〃



It　was　then　that　Glyndon；　with　a　cold　and　distinct　precision；

detailed；　as　he　had　done　to　Adela；　the　initiation　through　which

he　had　gone。　　He　described；　in　words　that　froze　the　blood　of　his

listener；　the　appearance　of　that　formless　phantom；　with　the　eyes

that　seared　the　brain　and　congealed　the　marrow　of　those　who

beheld。　　Once　seen；　it　never　was　to　be　exorcised。　　It　came　at　its

own　will；　prompting　black　thoughts；whispering　strange

temptations。　　Only　in　scenes　of　turbulent　excitement　was　it

absent！　　Solitude；　serenity；　the　struggling　desires　after　peace

and　virtue；THESE　were　the　elements　it　loved　to　haunt！

Bewildered；　terror…stricken；　the　wild　account　confirmed　by　the

dim　impressions　that　never；　in　the　depth　and　confidence　of

affection；　had　been　closely　examined；　but　rather　banished　as　soon

as　felt；that　the　life　and　attributes　of　Zanoni　were　not　like

those　of　mortals；impressions　which　her　own　love　had　made　her

hitherto　censure　as　suspicions　that　wronged；　and　which；　thus

mitigated；　had　perhaps　only　served　to　rivet　the　fascinated　chains

in　which　he　bound　her　heart　and　senses；　but　which　now；　as

Glyndon's　awful　narrative　filled　her　with　contagious　dread；　half

unbound　the　very　spells　they　had　woven　before；Viola　started　up

in　fear；　not　for　HERSELF；　and　clasped　her　child　in　her　arms！



〃Unhappiest　one！〃　cried　Glyndon；　shuddering；　〃hast　thou　indeed

given　birth　to　a　victim　thou　canst　not　save？　　Refuse　it

sustenance；let　it　look　to　thee　in　vain　for　food！　　In　the　grave；

at　least；　there　are　repose　and　peace！〃



Then　there　came　back　to　Viola's　mind　the　remembrance　of　Zanoni's

night…long　watches　by　that　cradle；　and　the　fear　which　even　then

had　crept　over　her　as　she　heard　his　murmured　half…chanted　words。

And　as　the　child　looked　at　her　with　its　clear；　steadfast　eye；　in

the　strange　intelligence　of　that　look　there　was　something　that

only　confirmed　her　awe。　　So　there　both　Mother　and　Forewarner

stood　in　silence；the　sun　smiling　upon　them　through　the

casement；　and　dark　by　the　cradle；　though　they　saw　it　not；　sat　the

motionless；　veiled　Thing！



But　by　degrees　better　and　juster　and　more　grateful　memories　of

the　past　returned　to　the　young　mother。　　The　features　of　the

infant；　as　she　gazed；　took　the　aspect　of　the　absent　father。　　A

voice　seemed　to　break　from　those　rosy　lips；　and　say；　mournfully；

〃I　speak　to　thee　in　thy　child。　　In　return　for　all　my　love　for

thee　and　thine；　dost　thou　distrust　me；　at　the　first　sentence　of　a

maniac　who　accuses？〃



Her　breast　heaved；　her　stature　rose；　her　eyes　shone　with　a　serene

and　holy　light。



〃Go；　poor　victim　of　thine　own　delusions；〃　she　said　to　Glyndon；　〃I

would　not　believe　mine　own　senses；　if　they　accused　ITS　father！

And　what　knowest　thou　of　Zanoni？　　What　relation　have　Mejnour　and

the　grisly　spectres　he　invoked；　with　the　radiant　image　with　which

thou　wouldst　connect　them？〃



〃Thou　wilt　learn　too　soon；〃　replied　Glyndon；　gloomily。　　〃And　the

very　phantom　that　haunts　me；　whispers；　with　its　bloodless　lips；

that　its　horrors　await　both　thine　and　thee！　　I　take　not　thy

decision　yet；　before　I　leave　Venice　we　shall　meet　again。〃



He　said；　and　departed。





CHAPTER　6。VI。



Quel　est　l'egarement　ou　ton　ame　se　livre？

La　Harpe；　〃Le　Comte　de　Warwick；〃　Act　4；　sc。　4。



（To　what　delusion　does　thy　soul　abandon　itself？）



Alas；　Zanoni！　the　aspirer；　the　dark；　bright　one！didst　thou

think　that　the　bond　between　the　survivor　of　ages　and　the　daughter

of　a　day　could　endure？　　Didst　thou　not　foresee　that；　until　the

ordeal　was　past；　there　could　be　no　equality　between　thy　wisdom

and　her　love？　　Art　thou　absent　now　seeking　amidst　thy　solemn

secrets　the　solemn　safeguards　for　child　and　mother；　and

forgettest　thou　that　the　phantom　that　served　thee　hath　power　over

its　own　gifts；over　the　lives　it　taught　thee　to　rescue　from　the

grave？　　Dost　thou　not　know　that　Fear　and　Distrust；　once　sown　in

the　heart　of　Love；　spring　up　from　the　seed　into　a　forest　that

excludes　the　stars？　　Dark；　bright　one！　the　hateful　eyes　glare

beside　the　mother　and　the　child！