FairyTales 版 (精华区)
发信人: Apis (阿拉斯加^^^飘舞者), 信区: FairyTales
标 题: chapter9
发信站: 哈工大紫丁香 (2002年08月07日10:35:43 星期三), 站内信件
CHAPTER 9
It was between night and dawn of day that Huldbrand was lying on his
couch, half waking and half sleeping. Whenever he attempted to
compose himself to sleep, a terror came upon him and scared him, as
if his slumbers were haunted with spectres. But he made an effort to
rouse himself fully. He felt fanned as by the wings of a swan, and
lulled as by the murmuring of waters, till in sweet confusion of the
senses he sank back into his state of half-consciousness.
At last, however, he must have fallen perfectly asleep; for he seemed
to be lifted up by wings of the swans, and to be wafted far away over
land and sea, while their music swelled on his ear most sweetly.
"The music of the swan! the song of the swan!" he could not but
repeat to himself every moment; "is it not a sure foreboding of
death?" Probably, however, it had yet another meaning. All at once
he seemed to be hovering over the Mediterranean Sea. A swan sang
melodiously in his ear, that this was the Mediterranean Sea. And
while he was looking down upon the waves, they became transparent as
crystal, so that he could see through them to the very bottom.
At this a thrill of delight shot through him, for he could see Undine
where she was sitting beneath the clear crystal dome. It is true she
was weeping very bitterly, and looked much sadder than in those happy
days when they lived together at the castle of Ringstetten, both on
their arrival and afterward, just before they set out upon their
fatal passage down the Danube. The knight could not help thinking
upon all this with deep emotion, but it did not appear that Undine
was aware of his presence.
Kuhleborn had meanwhile approached her, and was about to reprove her
for weeping, when she drew herself up, and looked upon him with an
air so majestic and commanding, that he almost shrank back.
"Although I now dwell here beneath the waters," said she, "yet I have
brought my soul with me. And therefore I may weep, little as you can
know what such tears are. They are blessed, as everything is blessed
to one gifted with a true soul."
He shook his head incredulously; and after some thought, replied,
"And yet, niece, you are subject to our laws, as a being of the same
nature with ourselves; and should HE prove unfaithful to you and
marry again, you are obliged to take away his life."
"He remains a widower to this very hour," replied Undine, "and I am
still dear to his sorrowful heart."
"He is, however, betrothed," said Kuhleborn, with a laugh of scorn;
"and let only a few days wear away, and then comes the priest with
his nuptial blessing; and then you must go up to the death of the
husband with two wives."
"I have not the power," returned Undine, with a smile. "I have sealed
up the fountain securely against myself and all of my race."
"Still, should he leave his castle," said Kuhleborn, "or should he
once allow the fountain to be uncovered, what then? for he thinks
little enough of these things."
"For that very reason," said Undine, still smiling amid her tears,
"for that very reason he is at this moment hovering in spirit over
the Mediterranean Sea, and dreaming of the warning which our
discourse gives him. I thoughtfully planned all this."
That instant, Kuhleborn, inflamed with rage, looked up at the knight,
wrathfully threatened him, stamped on the ground, and then shot like
an arrow beneath the waves. He seemed to swell in his fury to the
size of a whale. Again the swans began to sing, to wave their wings
and fly; the knight seemed to soar away over mountains and streams,
and at last to alight at Castle Ringstetten, and to awake on his
couch.
Upon his couch he actually did awake; and his attendant entering at
the same moment, informed him that Father Heilmann was still
lingering in the neighbourhood; that he had the evening before met
with him in the forest, where he was sheltering himself under a hut,
which he had formed by interweaving the branches of trees, and
covering them with moss and fine brushwood; and that to the question
"What he was doing there, since he would not give the marriage
blessing?" his answer was--
"There are many other blessings than those given at marriages; and
though I did not come to officiate at the wedding, I may still
officiate at a very different solemnity. All things have their
seasons; we must be ready for them all. Besides, marrying and
mourning are by no means so very unlike; as every one not wilfully
blinded must know full well."
The knight made many bewildered reflections on these words and on his
dream. But it is very difficult to give up a thing which we have
once looked upon as certain; so all continued as had been arranged
previously.
Should I relate to you how passed the marriage-feast at Castle
Ringstetten, it would be as if you saw a heap of bright and pleasant
things, but all overspread with a black mourning crape, through whose
darkening veil their brilliancy would appear but a mockery of the
nothingness of all earthly joys.
It was not that any spectral delusion disturbed the scene of
festivity; for the castle, as we well know, had been secured against
the mischief of water-spirits. But the knight, the fisherman, and
all the guests were unable to banish the feeling that the chief
personage of the feast was still wanting, and that this chief
personage could be no other than the gentle and beloved Undine.
Whenever a door was heard to open, all eyes were involuntarily turned
in that direction; and if it was nothing but the steward with new
dishes, or the cupbearer with a supply of wine of higher flavour than
the last, they again looked down in sadness and disappointment, while
the flashes of wit and merriment which had been passing at times from
one to another, were extinguished by tears of mournful remembrance.
The bride was the least thoughtful of the company, and therefore the
most happy; but even to her it sometimes seemed strange that she
should be sitting at the head of the table, wearing a green wreath
and gold-embroidered robe, while Undine was lying a corpse, stiff and
cold, at the bottom of the Danube, or carried out by the current into
the ocean. For ever since her father had suggested something of this
sort, his words were continually sounding in her ear; and this day,
in particular, they would neither fade from her memory, nor yield to
other thoughts.
Evening had scarcely arrived, when the company returned to their
homes; not dismissed by the impatience of the bridegroom, as wedding
parties are sometimes broken up, but constrained solely by heavy
sadness and forebodings of evil. Bertalda retired with her maidens,
and the knight with his attendants, to undress, but there was no gay
laughing company of bridesmaids and bridesmen at this mournful
festival.
Bertalda wished to awaken more cheerful thoughts; she ordered her
maidens to spread before her a brilliant set of jewels, a present
from Huldbrand, together with rich apparel and veils, that she might
select from among them the brightest and most beautiful for her dress
in the morning. The attendants rejoiced at this opportunity of
pouring forth good wishes and promises of happiness to their young
mistress, and failed not to extol the beauty of the bride with the
most glowing eloquence. This went on for a long time, until Bertalda
at last, looking in a mirror, said with a sigh--
"Ah, but do you not see plainly how freckled I am growing? Look here
on the side of my neck."
They looked at the place, and found the freckles, indeed, as their
fair mistress had said; but they called them mere beauty spots, the
faintest touches of the sun, such as would only heighten the
whiteness of her delicate complexion. Bertalda shook her head, and
still viewed them as a blemish. "And I could remove them," she said
at last, sighing. "But the castle fountain is covered, from which I
formerly used to have that precious water, so purifying to the skin.
Oh, had I this evening only a single flask of it!"
"Is that all?" cried an alert waiting-maid, laughing as she glided
out of the apartment.
"She will not be so foolish," said Bertalda, well-pleased and
surprised, "as to cause the stone cover of the fountain to be taken
off this very evening?" That instant they heard the tread of men
passing along the court-yard, and could see from the window where the
officious maiden was leading them directly up to the fountain, and
that they carried levers and other instruments on their shoulders.
"It is certainly my will," said Bertalda with a smile, "if it does
not take them too long." And pleased with the thought, that a word
from her was now sufficient to accomplish what had formerly been
refused with a painful reproof, she looked down upon their operations
in the bright moonlit castle-court.
The men raised the enormous stone with an effort; some one of the
number indeed would occasionally sigh, when he recollected they were
destroying the work of their former beloved mistress. Their labour,
however, was much lighter than they had expected. It seemed as if
some power from within the fountain itself aided them in raising the
stone.
"It appears," said the workmen to one another in astonishment, "as if
the confined water had become a springing fountain." And the stone
rose more and more, and, almost without the assistance of the work-
people, rolled slowly down upon the pavement with a hollow sound.
But an appearance from the opening of the fountain filled them with
awe, as it rose like a white column of water; at first they imagined
it really to be a fountain, until they perceived the rising form to
be a pale female, veiled in white. She wept bitterly, raised her
hands above her head, wringing them sadly as with slow and solemn
step she moved toward the castle. The servants shrank back, and fled
from the spring, while the bride, pale and motionless with horror,
stood with her maidens at the window. When the figure had now come
close beneath their room, it looked up to them sobbing, and Bertalda
thought she recognized through the veil the pale features of Undine.
But the mourning form passed on, sad, reluctant, and lingering, as if
going to the place of execution. Bertalda screamed to her maids to
call the knight; not one of them dared to stir from her place; and
even the bride herself became again mute, as if trembling at the
sound of her own voice.
While they continued standing at the window, motionless as statues,
the mysterious wanderer had entered the castle, ascended the well-
known stairs, and traversed the well-known halls in silent tears.
Alas, how different had she once passed through these rooms!
The knight had in the meantime dismissed his attendants. Half-
undressed and in deep dejection, he was standing before a large
mirror, a wax taper burned dimly beside him. At this moment some one
tapped at his door very, very softly. Undine had formerly tapped in
this way, when she was playing some of her endearing wiles.
"It is all an illusion!" said he to himself. "I must to my nuptial
bed."
"You must indeed, but to a cold one!" he heard a voice, choked with
sobs, repeat from without; and then he saw in the mirror, that the
door of his room was slowly, slowly opened, and the white figure
entered, and gently closed it behind her.
"They have opened the spring," said she in a low tone; "and now I am
here, and you must die."
He felt, in his failing breath, that this must indeed be; but
covering his eyes with his hands, he cried: "Do not in my death-hour,
do not make me mad with terror. If that veil conceals hideous
features, do not lift it! Take my life, but let me not see you."
"Alas!" replied the pale figure, "will you not then look upon me once
more? I am as fair now as when you wooed me on the island!"
"Oh, if it indeed were so," sighed Huldbrand, "and that I might die
by a kiss from you!"
"Most willingly, my own love," said she. She threw back her veil;
heavenly fair shone forth her pure countenance. Trembling with love
and the awe of approaching death, the knight leant towards her. She
kissed him with a holy kiss; but she relaxed not her hold, pressing
him more closely in her arms, and weeping as if she would weep away
her soul. Tears rushed into the knight's eyes, while a thrill both
of bliss and agony shot through his heart, until he at last expired,
sinking softly back from her fair arms upon the pillow of his couch a
corpse.
"I have wept him to death!" said she to some domestics, who met her
in the ante-chamber; and passing through the terrified group, she
went slowly out, and disappeared in the fountain.
--
我向前走,但我一看到花
脚步就慢下来了------
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