第 37 节
作者:浮游云中      更新:2021-02-20 16:28      字数:9322
  had   endured   but   a   moment   ago;   he   found   it   quite   foolish   and   irrational。
  An absurd merriment took possession of him; but all the while he did not
  know where his foot stepped; his head swam; and his pulse beat feverishly。
  About midway between the forest and the mansion; where the field sloped
  more steeply; grew a clump of birch…trees; whose slender stems glimmered
  ghostly   white     in  the  moonlight。      Something       drove   Truls   to  leave   the
  beaten road; and; obeying the impulse; he steered toward the birches。                     A
  strange sound fell upon his ear; like the moan of one in distress。                   It did
  not startle him; indeed; he was in a mood when nothing could have caused
  him   wonder。      If   the   sky   had   suddenly   tumbled   down   upon   him;   with
  moon and all; he would have taken it as a matter of course。                 Peering for a
  moment   through   the   mist;   he   discerned   the   outline   of   a   human   figure。
  With three great strides he reached the birch…tree; at his feet sat Borghild
  rocking   herself   to   and   fro   and   weeping   piteously。    Without   a   word   he
  seated himself at her side and tried to catch a glimpse of her face; but she
  hid it from him and went on sobbing。             Still there could be no doubt that it
  was Borghildone hour ago so merry; reckless; and defiant; now cowering
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  at his feet and weeping like a broken…hearted child。
  〃Borghild;〃   he   said;   at   last;   putting   his   arm   gently   about   her   waist;
  〃you and I; I think; played together when we were children。〃
  〃So we did; Truls;〃 answered she; struggling with her tears。
  〃And as we grew up; we spent many a pleasant hour with each other。〃
  〃Many a pleasant hour。〃
  She raised her head; and he drew her more closely to him。
  〃But   since   then   I   have   done   you   a   great   wrong;〃   began   she;   after   a
  while。
  〃Nothing done that cannot yet be undone;〃 he took heart to answer。
  It was long before her thoughts took shape; and; when at length they
  did;   she   dared   not   give   them   utterance。   Nevertheless;   she   was   all   the
  time conscious of one strong desire; from which her conscience shrank as
  from a crime; and she wrestled ineffectually with her weakness until her
  weakness prevailed。
  〃I   am   glad   you   came;〃    she   faltered。    〃I   knew    you   would     come。
  There was something I wished to say to you。〃
  〃And what was it; Borghild?〃
  〃I wanted to ask you to forgive me〃
  〃Forgive you〃
  He sprang up as if something had stung him。
  〃And why not?〃 she pleaded; piteously。
  〃Ah;   girl;   you   know   not   what   you   ask;〃   cried   he;   with   a   sternness
  which startled her。       〃If I had more than one life to wastebut you caress
  with one hand and stab with the other。            Fare thee well; Borghild; for here
  our paths separate。〃
  He turned his back upon her and began to descend the slope。
  〃For   God's   sake;   stay;   Truls;〃   implored   she;   and   stretched   her   arms
  appealingly toward him; 〃tell me; oh; tell me all。〃
  With a leap he was again at her side; stooped down over her; and; in a
  hoarse;   passionate   whisper;   spoke   the   secret   of   his   life   in   her   ear。 She
  gazed for a moment steadily into his face; then; in a few hurried words;
  she pledged him her love; her faith; her all。             And in the stillness of that
  summer night they planned together their flight to a greater and freer land;
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  where   no   world…old   prejudice   frowned   upon   the   union   of   two   kindred
  souls。     They would wait in patience and silence until spring; then come
  the fresh winds from the ocean; and; with them; the birds of passage which
  awake the longings in the Norsernen's breasts; and the American vessels
  which give courage to many a sinking spirit; strength to the wearied arm;
  hope to the hopeless heart。
  During that winter Truls and   Borghild seldom saw   each other。                  The
  parish was filled with rumors; and after the Christmas holiday it was told
  for certain that the proud maiden of Skogli had been promised in marriage
  to Syvert Stein。       It was the general belief that the families had made the
  match; and that Borghild; at least; had hardly had any voice in the matter。
  Another   report   was   that   she   had   flatly   refused   to   listen   to   any   proposal
  from that quarter; and that; when she found that resistance was vain; she
  had    cried   three   days   and   three   nights;  and   refused    to  take   any   food。
  When   this   rumor   reached the   pastor's   ear;   he pronounced   it an idle   tale;
  〃for;〃    said  he;  〃Borghild     has   always    been   a  proper    and   well…behaved
  maiden; and she knows that she must honor father and mother; that it may
  be well with her; and she live long upon the land。〃
  But   Borghild   sat   alone   in   her   gable   window   and   looked   longingly
  toward the ocean。         The glaciers glittered; the rivers swelled; the buds of
  the forest burst; and great white sails began to glimmer on the far western
  horizon。
  If Truls; the Nameless; as scoffers were wont to call him; had been a
  greater   personage   in   the   valley;   it   would;   no   doubt;   have   shocked   the
  gossips to know that one fine morning he sold his cow; his gun and his dog;
  and wrapped sixty silver dollars in a leathern bag; which he sewed fast to
  the girdle he wore about his waist。           That same night some one was heard
  playing   wildly   up   in   the   birch   copse   above   the   Skogli   mansion;   now   it
  sounded like a wail of distress; then like a fierce; defiant laugh; and now
  again the music seemed to hush itself into a heart…broken; sorrowful moan;
  and   the   people   crossed   themselves;   and   whispered:        〃Our   Father;〃   but
  Borghild   sat   at   her   gable   window   and   listened   long   to   the   weird   strain。
  The midnight came; but she stirred not。               With the hour of midnight the
  music ceased。       From the windows of hall and kitchen the light streamed
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  out into the damp   air;  and   the   darkness stood like   a   wall on   either   side;
  within; maids and lads were busy brewing; baking; and washing; for in a
  week there was to be a wedding on the farm。
  The week went and the wedding came。                 Truls had not closed his eyes
  all that night; and before daybreak he sauntered down along the beach and
  gazed out upon the calm fjord; where the white…winged sea…birds whirled
  in great airy surges around the bare crags。            Far up above the noisy throng
  an   ospray   sailed   on   the   blue   expanse   of   the   sky;   and   quick   as   thought
  swooped down   upon   a halibut   which   had ventured   to   take a peep   at the
  rising   sun。    The   huge   fish   struggled   for   a   moment   at   the   water's   edge;
  then;    with   a  powerful     stroke   of  its  tail;  which   sent  the   spray   hissing
  through the air; dived below the surface。              The bird of prey gave a loud
  scream;  flapped   fiercely  with its   broad   wings;  and   for   several   minutes   a
  thickening cloud of applauding ducks and seagulls and showers of spray
  hid   the   combat   from   the   observer's   eye。    When   the   birds   scattered;   the
  ospray had vanished; and the waters again glittered calmly in the morning
  sun。    Truls stood long; vacantly staring out upon the scene of the conflict;
  and many strange thoughts whirled through his head。
  〃Halloo;   fiddler!〃   cried   a   couple   of   lads   who   had   come   to   clear   the
  wedding boats; 〃you are early on foot to…day。                Here is a scoop。        Come
  on and help us bail the boats。〃
  Truls took the scoop; and looked at it as if he had never seen such a
  thing   before;   he   moved   about   heavily;   hardly   knowing   what   he   did;   but
  conscious all the while of his own great misery。                His limbs seemed half
  frozen; and a dull pain gathered about his head and in his breastin fact;
  everywhere and nowhere。
  About   ten   o'clock   the   bridal   procession   descended   the   slope   to   the
  fjord。    Syvert Stein;  the bridegroom;  trod the   earth with   a firm;  springy
  step; and spoke many a cheery word to tho bride; who walke