stories by english authors in france(旅法英国作家的故事)-第12章
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mistress's face！
〃You have arms here？〃 pursued the German。
〃We had。〃
〃What have you done with them？〃
〃If I had had my way； you would not need ask。 You would have felt
them。〃
The Prussian looked at him keenly； doing homage to the boldness of
the answer。 〃Will you confess where they are？〃
〃No。〃
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〃You know the penalty for concealment of arms is death？〃
〃You have made it so。〃
〃We have； and Prussian will is French law。 You are a bold man； you
merit death。 But still； you know the country well？〃
Bernadou smiled； as a mother might smile were any foolish enough to
ask her if she remembered the look her dead child's face had worn。
〃If you know it well；〃 pursued the Prussian； 〃I will give you a chance。
Lay hold of my stirrup…leather and be lashed to it； and show me straight as
the crow flies to where the weapons are hidden。 If you do； I will leave you
your life。 If you do not〃
〃If I do not？〃
〃You will be shot。〃
Bernadou was silent； his eyes glanced through the mass of soldiers to
the little cottage under the trees opposite。 The two there were straining to
behold him； but the soldiers pushed them back； so that in the flare of the
torches they could not see； nor in the tumult hear。 He thanked God for it。
〃Your choice？〃 asked the uhlan； impatiently； after a moment's pause。
Bernadou's lips were white； but they did not tremble as he answered； 〃I
am no traitor。〃 And his eyes； as he spoke； went softly to the little porch
where the light glowed from that hearth beside which he would never
again sit with the creatures he loved around him。
The German looked at him。 〃Is that a boast； or a fact？〃
〃I am no traitor；〃 Bernadou answered； simply； once more。
The Prussian gave a sign to his troopers。 There was the sharp report of
a double shot； and Bernadou fell dead。 One bullet had pierced his brain；
the other was bedded in his lungs。 The soldiers kicked aside the warm and
quivering body。 It was only a peasant killed！
With a shriek that rose above the roar of the wind； and cut like steel to
every human heart that beat there； Reine Allix forced her way through the
throng； and fell on her knees beside him； and caught him in her arms； and
laid his head upon her breast； where he had used to sleep his softest sleep
in infancy and childhood。 〃It is God's will！ it is God's will！〃 she muttered；
and then she laugheda laugh so terrible that the blood of the boldest there
ran cold。
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Margot followed her and looked； and stood dry…eyed and silent； then
flung herself and the child she carried in her arms beneath the hoof of the
white charger。 〃End your work！〃 she shrieked to them。 〃You have killed
himkill us。 Have you not mercy enough for that？〃
The horse； terrified and snorting blood； plunged and trampled the
ground； his fore foot struck the child's golden head and stamped its face
out of all human likeness。 Some peasants pulled Margot from the lashing
hoofs； she was quite dead； though neither wound nor bruise was on her。
Reine Allix neither looked nor paused。 With all her strength she had
begun to drag the body of Bernadou across the threshold of his house。 〃He
shall lie at home； he shall lie at home；〃 she muttered。 She would not
believe that already he was dead。 With all the force of her earliest
womanhood she lifted him； and half drew； half bore him into the house
that he had loved； and laid him down upon the hearth； and knelt by him；
caressing him as though he were once more a child； and saying softly；
〃Hush！〃for her mind was gone； and she fancied that he only slept。
Without； the tumult of the soldiery increased。 They found the arms
hidden under the altar on the hill； they seized five peasants to slay them
for the dire offence。 The men struggled； and would not go as the sheep to
the shambles。 They were shot down in the street； before the eyes of their
children。 Then the order was given to fire the place in punishment； and
leave it to its fate。 The torches were flung with a laugh on the dry thatched
roofs； brands snatched from the house fires on the hearths were tossed
among the dwelling…houses and the barns。 The straw and timber flared
alight like tow。
An old man； her nearest neighbour； rushed to the cottage of Reine
Allix and seized her by the arm。 〃They fire the Berceau；〃 he screamed。
〃Quick！ quick！ or you will be burned alive！〃
Reine Allix looked up with a smile。 〃Be quiet！ Do you not see！ He
sleeps。〃
The old man shook her； implored her； strove to drag her away； in
desperation pointed to the roof above； which was already in flames。
Reine Allix looked。 At that sight her mind cleared； and regained
consciousness； she remembered all； she understood all； she knew that he
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was dead。 〃Go in peace and save yourself；〃 she said； in the old； sweet；
strong tone of an earlier day。 〃As for me； I am very old。 I and my dead will
stay together at home。〃
The man fled； and left her to her choice。
The great curled flames and the livid vapours closed around her； she
never moved。 The death was fierce； but swift； and even in death she and
the one whom she had loved and reared were not divided。 The end soon
came。 From hill to hill the Berceau de Dieu broke into flames。 The village
was a lake of fire； into which the statue of the Christ； burning and reeling；
fell。 Some few peasants； with their wives and children； fled to the woods；
and there escaped one torture to perish more slowly of cold and famine。
All other things perished。 The rapid stream of the flame licked up all there
was in its path。 The bare trees raised their leafless branches； on fire at a
thousand points。 The stores of corn and fruit were lapped by millions of
crimson tongues。 The pigeons flew screaming from their roosts； and sank
into the smoke。 The dogs were suffocated on the thresholds they had
guarded all their lives。 The sheep ran bleating with the wool burning on
their living bodies。 The little caged birds fluttered helpless； and then
dropped； scorched to cinders。 The aged and the sick were stifled in their
beds。 All things perished。
The Berceau de Dieu was as one vast furnace； in which every living
creature was caught and consumed and changed to ashes。 The tide of war
has rolled on； and left it a blackened waste； a smoking ruin； wherein not so
much as a mouse may creep or a bird may nestle。 It is gone； and its place
can know it nevermore。
Nevermore。 But who is there to care？ It was but as a leaf which the
great storm swept away as it passed。
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A TERRIBLY STRANGE BED
BY WILKIE COLLINS
PROLOGUE TO THE FIRST STORY
Before I begin； by the aid of my wife's patient attention and ready pen；
to relate any of the stories which I have heard at various times from
persons whose likenesses I have been employed to take； it will not be
amiss if I try to secure the reader's interest in the following pages by
briefly explaining how I became possessed of the narrative matter which
they contain。
Of myself I have nothing to say； but that I have followed the
profession of a travelling portrait…painter for the last fifteen years。 The
pursuit of my calling has not only led me all through England； but has
taken me twice to Scotland and once to Ireland。 In moving from district to
district； I am never guided beforehand by any settled plan。 Sometimes the
letters of recommendation which I get from persons who are satisfied with
the work I have done for them determine the direction in which I travel。
Sometimes I hear of a new neighbourhood in which there is no resident
artist of ability； and remove thither on speculation。 Sometimes my friends
among the picture…dealers say a good word on my behalf to their rich
customers； and so pave the way for me in the large towns。 Sometimes my
prosperous and famous brother artists； hearing of small commissions
which it is not worth their while to accept； mention my name； and procure
me introductions to pleasant country houses。 Thus I get on； now in one
way and now in another； not winning a reputation or making a fortune； but
happier； perhaps； on the whole； than many men who have got both the one
and the other。 So； at least； I try to think now； though I started in my youth
with as high an ambition as the best of them。 Thank God； it is not my
business here to speak of past times and their disappointments。 A twinge
of the old hopeless heartache comes over me sometimes still； when I think
of my student days。
One peculiarity of my present way of life is； that it brings me into
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contact with all sorts of characters。 I almost feel； by this time； as if I had
painted every civilised variety of the human race。 Upon the whole； my
experience of the world； rough as it has been； has not taught me to think
unkindly of my fellow…creatures。 I have certainly received such treatment
at the hands of some of my sitters as I could not describe without
saddening and shocking any kind…hearted reader； but； taking one year and
one place with another； I have cause to remember with gratitude and
respect； sometimes even with friendship and affection； a very large
proportion of the numerous persons who have employed me。
Some of the results of my experience are curious in a moral point of
view。 For example； I have found women almost unifor
