catherine-a story(凯瑟琳的故事)-第50节
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alone。 He was comforted； therefore； when he saw a woman muffled in a
cloak； who held out her hand to him at the gate； and said； 〃Is that you？〃
He took her hand；it was very clammy and cold； and at her desire he bade
his confidential footman； who had attended him with a torch； to retire； and
leave him to himself。
The torch…bearer retired； and left them quite in darkness； and the pair
entered the little cemetery； cautiously threading their way among the
tombs。 They sat down on one； underneath a tree it seemed to be； the wind
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was very cold； and its piteous howling was the only noise that broke the
silence of the place。 Catherine's teeth were chattering； for all her wraps；
and when Max drew her close to him； and encircled her waist with one
arm； and pressed her hand； she did not repulse him； but rather came close
to him； and with her own damp fingers feebly returned his pressure。
The poor thing was very wretched and weeping。 She confided to Max
the cause of her grief。 She was alone in the world；alone and penniless。
Her husband had left her； she had that very day received a letter from him
which confirmed all that she had suspected so long。 He had left her；
carried away all his property； and would not return！
If we say that a selfish joy filled the breast of Monsieur de Galgenstein；
the reader will not be astonished。 A heartless libertine； he felt glad at the
prospect of Catherine's ruin； for he hoped that necessity would make her
his own。 He clasped the poor thing to his heart； and vowed that he would
replace the husband she had lost； and that his fortune should be hers。
〃Will you replace him？〃 said she。
〃Yes； truly； in everything but the name； dear Catherine； and when he
dies； I swear you shall be Countess of Galgenstein。〃
〃Will you swear？〃 she cried； eagerly。
〃By everything that is most sacred： were you free now； I would〃 （and
here he swore a terrific oath） 〃at once make you mine。〃
We have seen before that it cost Monsieur de Galgenstein nothing to
make these vows。 Hayes was likely； too； to live as long as Catherineas
long； at least； as the Count's connection with her； but he was caught in his
own snare。
She took his hand and kissed it repeatedly； and bathed it in her tears；
and pressed it to her bosom。 〃Max；〃 she said； 〃I AM FREE！ Be mine； and
I will love you as I have done for years and years。〃
Max started back。 〃What； is he dead？〃 he said。
〃No； no； not dead： but he never was my husband。〃
He let go her hand； and； interrupting her； said sharply； 〃Indeed； madam；
if this carpenter never was your husband； I see no cause why _I_ should be。
If a lady； who hath been for twenty years the mistress of a miserable
country boor； cannot find it in her heart to put up with the protection of a
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noblemana sovereign's representativeshe may seek a husband
elsewhere！〃
〃I was no man's mistress except yours；〃 sobbed Catherine； wringing
her hands and sobbing wildly； 〃but； O Heaven！ I deserved this。 Because I
was a child； and you saw； and ruined； and left mebecause； in my sorrow
and repentance； I wished to repair my crime； and was touched by that
man's love； and married himbecause he too deceives and leaves me
because； after loving youmadly loving you for twenty yearsI will not
now forfeit your respect； and degrade myself by yielding to your will； you
too must scorn me！ It is too muchtoo muchO Heaven！〃 And the
wretched woman fell back almost fainting。
Max was almost frightened by this burst of sorrow on her part； and
was coming forward to support her； but she motioned him away； and；
taking from her bosom a letter； said； 〃If it were light； you could see； Max；
how cruelly I have been betrayed by that man who called himself my
husband。 Long before he married me； he was married to another。 This
woman is still living； he says； and he says he leaves me for ever。〃
At this moment the moon； which had been hidden behind Westminster
Abbey； rose above the vast black mass of that edifice； and poured a flood
of silver light upon the little church of St。 Margaret's； and the spot where
the lovers stood。 Max was at a little distance from Catherine； pacing
gloomily up and down the flags。 She remained at her old position at the
tombstone under the tree； or pillar； as it seemed to be； as the moon got up。
She was leaning against the pillar； and holding out to Max； with an arm
beautifully white and rounded； the letter she had received from her
husband： 〃Read it； Max；〃 she said： 〃I asked for light； and here is Heaven's
own； by which you may read。〃
But Max did not come forward to receive it。 On a sudden his face
assumed a look of the most dreadful surprise and agony。 He stood still；
and stared with wild eyes starting from their sockets； he stared upwards； at
a point seemingly above Catherine's head。 At last he raised up his finger
slowly and said； 〃Look； CatTHE HEADTHE HEAD！〃 Then uttering a
horrible laugh； he fell down grovelling among the stones； gibbering and
writhing in a fit of epilepsy。
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Catherine started forward and looked up。 She had been standing
against a post； not a treethe moon was shining full on it now； and on the
summit strangely distinct； and smiling ghastly； was a livid human head。
The wretched woman fledshe dared look no more。 And some hours
afterwards； when； alarmed by the Count's continued absence； his
confidential servant came back to seek for him in the churchyard； he was
found sitting on the flags； staring full at the head； and laughing； and
talking to it wildly； and nodding at it。 He was taken up a hopeless idiot；
and so lived for years and years； clanking the chain； and moaning under
the lash； and howling through long nights when the moon peered through
the bars of his solitary cell； and he buried his face in the straw。
* * *
Therethe murder is out！ And having indulged himself in a chapter of
the very finest writing； the author begs the attention of the British public
towards it； humbly conceiving that it possesses some of those peculiar
merits which have rendered the fine writing in other chapters of the works
of other authors so famous。
Without bragging at all； let us just point out the chief claims of the
above pleasing piece of composition。 In the first place； it is perfectly
stilted and unnatural； the dialogue and the sentiments being artfully
arranged； so as to be as strong and majestic as possible。 Our dear Cat is
but a poor illiterate country wench； who has come from cutting her
husband's throat； and yet； see！ she talks and looks like a tragedy princess；
who is suffering in the most virtuous blank verse。 This is the proper end of
fiction； and one of the greatest triumphs that a novelist can achieve： for to
make people sympathise with virtue is a vulgar trick that any common
fellow can do； but it is not everybody who can take a scoundrel； and cause
us to weep and whimper over him as though he were a very saint。 Give a
young lady of five years old a skein of silk and a brace of netting…needles；
and she will in a short time turn you out a decent silk purseanybody can；
but try her with a sow's ear； and see whether she can make a silk purse out
of THAT。 That is the work for your real great artist； and pleasant it is to
see how many have succeeded in these latter days。
The subject is strictly historical； as anyone may see by referring to the
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Daily Post of March 3； 1726； which contains the following paragraph：
〃Yesterday morning； early； a man's head； that by the freshness of it
seemed to have been newly cut off from the body； having its own hair on；
was found by the river's side； nea
