The Secret Rose-第8章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


flames　of　the　stars　had　e　out　everywhere。　the　ground　sloped　more　and　more　until　at　last　they　rode　far　above　the　woods　upon　the　wide　top　of　the　mountain。　the　woods　lay　spread　out　mile　after　mile　below；　and　away　to　the　south　shot　up　the　red　glare　of　the　burning　town。　but　before　and　above　them　were　the　little　white　flames。　the　guide　drew　rein　suddenly；　and　pointing　upwards　with　the　hand　that　did　not　hold　the　torch；　shrieked　out；　look；　look　at　the　holy　candles！　and　then　plunged　forward　at　a　gallop；　waving　the　torch　hither　and　thither。　do　you　hear　the　hoofs　of　the　messengers？　cried　the　guide。　quick；　quick！　or　they　will　be　gone　out　of　your　hands！　and　he　laughed　as　with　delight　of　the　chase。　the　troopers　thought　they　could　hear　far　off；　and　as　if　below　them；　rattle　of　hoofs；　but　now　the　ground　began　to　slope　more　and　more；　and　the　speed　grew　more　headlong　moment　by　moment。　they　tried　to　pull　up；　but　in　vain；　for　the　horses　seemed　to　have　gone　mad。　the　guide　had　thrown　the　reins　on　to　the　neck　of　the　old　white　horse；　and　was　waving　his　arms　and　singing　a　wild　gaelic　song。　suddenly　they　saw　the　thin　gleam　of　a　river；　at　an　immense　distance　below；　and　knew　that　they　were　upon　the　brink　of　the　abyss　that　is　now　called　lug？na？gael；　or　in　english　the　strangers　leap。　the　six　horses　sprang　forward；　and　five　screams　went　up　into　the　air；　a　moment　later　five　men　and　horses　fell　with　a　dull　crash　upon　the　green　slopes　at　the　foot　of　the　rocks。

。。！



THE　OLD　MEN　OF　THE　TWILIGHT

小说
at　the　place；　close　to　the　dead　mans　point；　at　the　rosses；　where　the　disused　pilot？house　looks　out　to　sea　through　two　round　windows　like　eyes；　a　mud　cottage　stood　in　the　last　century。　it　also　was　a　watchhouse；　for　a　certain　old　michael　bruen；　who　had　been　a　smuggler　in　his　day；　and　was　still　the　father　and　grandfather　of　smugglers；　lived　there；　and　when；　after　nightfall；　a　tall　schooner　crept　over　the　bay　from　roughley；　it　was　his　business　to　hang　a　horn　lanthorn　in　the　southern　window；　that　the　news　might　travel　to　dorrens　island；　and　from　thence；　by　another　horn　lanthorn；　to　the　village　of　the　rosses。　but　for　this　glimmering　of　messages；　he　had　little　munion　with　mankind；　for　he　was　very　old；　and　had　no　thought　for　anything　but　for　the　making　of　his　soul；　at　the　foot　of　the　spanish　crucifix　of　carved　oak　that　hung　by　his　chimney；　or　bent　double　over　the　rosary　of　stone　beads　brought　to　him　a　cargo　of　silks　and　laces　out　of　france。　one　night　he　had　watched　hour　after　hour；　because　a　gentle　and　favourable　wind　was　blowing；　and　la　mere　de　misericorde　was　much　overdue；　and　he　was　about　to　lie　down　upon　his　heap　of　straw；　seeing　that　the　dawn　was　whitening　the　east；　and　that　the　schooner　would　not　dare　to　round　roughley　and　e　to　an　anchor　after　daybreak；　when　he　saw　a　long　line　of　herons　flying　slowly　from　dorrens　island　and　towards　the　pools　which　lie；　half　choked　with　reeds；　behind　what　is　called　the　second　rosses。　he　had　never　before　seen　herons　flying　over　the　sea；　for　they　are　shore？keeping　birds；　and　partly　because　this　had　startled　him　out　of　his　drowsiness；　and　more　because　the　long　delay　of　the　schooner　kept　his　cupboard　empty；　he　took　down　his　rusty　shot？gun；　of　which　the　barrel　was　tied　on　with　a　piece　of　string；　and　followed　them　towards　the　pools。

when　he　came　close　enough　to　hear　the　sighing　of　the　rushes　in　the　outermost　pool；　the　morning　was　grey　over　the　world；　so　that　the　tall　rushes；　the　still　waters；　the　vague　clouds；　the　thin　mists　lying　among　the　sand？heaps；　seemed　carved　out　of　an　enormous　pearl。　in　a　little　he　came　upon　the　herons；　of　whom　there　were　　a　great　number；　standing　with　lifted　legs　in　the　shallow　water；　and　crouching　down　behind　a　bank　of　rushes；　looked　to　the　priming　of　his　gun；　and　bent　for　a　moment　over　his　rosary　to　murmur：　patron　patrick；　let　me　shoot　a　heron；　made　into　a　pie　it　will　support　me　for　nearly　four　days；　for　i　no　longer　eat　as　in　my　youth。　if　you　keep　me　from　missing　i　will　say　a　rosary　to　you　every　night　until　the　pie　is　eaten。　then　he　lay　down；　and；　resting　his　gun　upon　a　large　stone；　turned　towards　a　heron　which　stood　upon　a　bank　of　smooth　grass　over　a　little　stream　that　flowed　into　the　pool；　for　he　feared　to　take　the　rheumatism　by　wading；　as　he　would　have　to　do　if　he　shot　one　of　those　which　stood　in　the　water。　but　when　he　looked　along　the　barrel　the　heron　was　gone；　and；　to　his　wonder　and　terror；　a　man　of　infinitely　great　age　and　infirmity　stood　in　its　place。　he　lowered　the　gun；　and　the　heron　stood　there　with　bent　head　and　motionless　feathers；　as　though　it　had　slept　from　the　beginning　of　the　world。　he　raised　the　gun；　and　no　sooner　did　he　look　along　the　iron　than　that　enemy　of　all　enchantment　brought　the　old　man　again　before　him；　only　to　vanish　when　he　lowered　the　gun　for　the　second　time。　he　laid　the　gun　down；　and　crossed　himself　three　times；　and　said　a　paternoster　and　an　ave　maria；　and　muttered　half　aloud：　some　enemy　of　god　and　of　my　patron　is　standing　upon　the　smooth　place　and　fishing　in　the　blessed　water；

and　then　aimed　very　carefully　and　slowly。　he　fired；　and　when　the　smoke　had　gone　saw　an　old　man；　huddled　upon　the　grass　and　a　long　line　of　herons　flying　with　clamour　towards　the　sea。　he　went　round　a　bend　of　the　pool；　and　ing　to　the　little　stream　looked　down　on　a　figure　wrapped　in　faded　clothes　of　black　and　green　of　an　ancient　pattern　and　spotted　with　blood。　he　shook　his　head　at　the　sight　of　so　great　a　wickedness。　suddenly　the　clothes　moved　and　an　arm　was　stretched　upwards　towards　the　rosary　which　hung　about　his　neck；　and　long　wasted　fingers　almost　touched　the　cross。　he　started　back；　crying：　wizard；　i　will　let　no　wicked　thing　touch　my　blessed　beads；　and　the　sense　of　a　the　old　great　danger　just　escaped　made　him　tremble。

if　you　listen　to　me；　replied　a　voice　so　faint　that　it　was　like　a　sigh；　you　will　know　that　i　am　not　a　wizard；　and　you　will　let　me　kiss　the　cross　before　i　die。

i　will　listen　to　you；　he　answered；　but　i　will　not　let　you　touch　my　blessed　beads；　and　sitting　on　the　grass　a　little　way　from　the　dying　man；　he　reloaded　his　gun　and　laid　it　across　his　knees　and　posed　himself　to　listen。

i　know　not　how　many　generations　ago　we；　who　are　now　herons；　were　the　men　of　learning　of　the　king　leaghaire；　we　neither　hunted；　nor　went　to　battle；　nor　listened　to　the　druids　preaching；　and　even　love；　if　it　came　to　us　at　all；　was　but　a　passing　fire。　the　druids　and　the　poets　told　us；　many　and　many　a　time；　of　a　new　druid　patrick；　and　most　among　them　were　fierce　against　him；　while　a　few　thought　his　doctrine　merely　the　doctrine　of　the　gods　set　out　in　new　symbols；　and　were　for　giving　him　wele；　but　we　yawned　in　the　midst　of　their　tale。　at　last　they　came　crying　that　he　was　ing　to　the　kings　house；　and　fell　to　their　dispute；　but　we　would　listen　to　neither　party；　for　we　were　busy　with　a　dispute　about　the　merits　of　the　great　and　of　the　little　metre；　nor　were　we　disturbed　when　they　passed　our　door　with　sticks　of　enchantment　under　their　arms；　travelling　towards　the　forest　to　contend　against　his　ing；　nor　when　they　returned　after　nightfall　with　torn　robes　and　despairing　cries；　for　the　click　of　our　knives　writing　our　thoughts　in　ogham　filled　us　with　peace　and　our　dispute　filled　us　with　joy；　nor　even　when　in　the　morning　crowds　passed　us　to　hear　the　strange　druid　preaching　the　mandments　of　his　god。　the　crowds　passed；　and　one；　who　had　laid　down　his　knife　to　yawn　and　stretch　himself；　heard　a　voice　speaking　far　off；　and　knew　that　the　druid　patrick　was　preaching　within　the　kings　house；　but　our　hearts　were　deaf；　and　we　carved　and　disputed　and　read；　and　laughed　a　thin　laughter　together。　in　a　little　we　heard　many　feet　ing　towards　the　house；　and　presently　two　tall　figures　stood　in　the　door；　the　one　in　white；　the　other　in　a　crimson　robe；　like　a　great　lily　and　a　heavy　poppy；　and　we　knew　the　druid　patrick　and　our　king　leaghaire。　we　laid　down　the　slender　knives　and　bowed　before　the　king；　but　when　the　black　and　green　robes　had　ceased　to　rustle；　it　was　not　the　loud　rough　voice　of　king　leaghaire　that　spoke　to　us；　but　a　strange　voice　in　which　there　was　a　rapture　as　of　one　speaking　from　behind　a　battlement　of　druid　flame：　〃i　preached　the　mandments　of　the　maker　of　the　world；〃　it　said；　〃within　the　kings　house　and　from　the　centre　of　the　earth　to　the　windows　of　heaven　there　was　a　great　silence；　so　that　the　eagle　floated　with　unmoving　wings　in　the　white　air；　and　the　fish　with　unmoving　fins　in　the　dim　water；　while　the　linnets　and　the　wrens　and　the　sparrows　stilled　there　ever？trembling　tongues　in　the　heavy　boughs；　and　the　clouds　were　like　white　marble；　and　the　rivers　became　their　motionless　mirrors；　and　the　shrimps　in　the　far？off　sea？pools　were　still　enduring　eternity　in　patience；　although　it　was　hard。〃　and　as　he　named　these　things；　it　was　like　a　king　　numbering　his　people。　〃but　your　slender　knives　went　click；　click！　upon　the　oaken　staves；　and；　all　else　being　silent；　the　sound　shook　the　angels　with　anger。　o；　little　roots；　nipped　by　the　winter；　who　do　not　awake　although　the　summer　pass　above　you　with　innumerable　feet。　o；　men　who　have　no　part　in　love；　who　have　no　part　in　song；　who　have　no　part　in　wisdom；　but　dwell　with　the　shadows　of　memory　where　the　feet　of　angels　cannot　touch　you　as　they　pass　over　your　heads；　where　the　hair　of　demons　cannot　sweep　about　you　a