第60章

第60章“andbetter？”

“andbetter—somuchbetteraspureoreisthanfouldross.youseemtodoubtme；idon’tdoubtmyself：iknowwhatmyaimis，whatmymotivesare；andatthismomentipassalaw，unalterableasthatofthemedesandpersians，thatbothareright.”

“theycannotbe，sir，iftheyrequireanewstatutetolegalisethem.”

“theyare，misseyre，thoughtheyabsolutelyrequireanewstatute：unheard-ofcombinationsofcircumstancesdemandunheard-ofrules.”

“thatsoundsadangerousmaxim，sir；becauseonecanseeatoncethatitisliabletoabuse.”

“sententioussage！soitis：butiswearbymyhouseholdgodsnottoabuseit.”

“youarehumanandfallible.”

“iam：soareyou—whatthen？”

“thehumanandfallibleshouldnotarrogateapowerwithwhichthedivineandperfectalonecanbesafelyintrusted.”

“whatpower？”

“thatofsayingofanystrange，unsanctionedlineofaction，—‘letitberight.’”

“‘letitberight’—theverywords：youhavepronouncedthem.”

“mayitberightthen，”isaid，asirose，deemingituselesstocontinueadiscoursewhichwasalldarknesstome；and，besides，sensiblethatthecharacterofmyinterlocutorwasbeyondmypenetration；atleast，beyonditspresentreach；andfeelingtheuncertainty，thevaguesenseofinsecurity，whichaccompaniesaconvictionofignorance.

“whereareyougoing？”

“toputadèletobed：itispastherbedtime.”

“youareafraidofme，becauseitalklikeasphynx.”

“yourlanguageisenigmatical，sir：butthoughiambewildered，iamcertainlynotafraid.”

“youareafraid—yourself-lovedreadsablunder.”

“inthatsenseidofeelapprehensive—ihavenowishtotalknonsense.”

“ifyoudid，itwouldbeinsuchagrave，quietmanner，ishouldmistakeitforsense.doyouneverlaugh，misseyre？don’ttroubleyourselftoanswer—iseeyoulaughrarely；butyoucanlaughverymerrily：believeme，youarenotnaturallyaustere，anymorethaniamnaturallyvicious.thelowoodconstraintstillclingstoyousomewhat；controllingyourfeatures，mufflingyourvoice，andrestrictingyourlimbs；andyoufearinthepresenceofamanandabrother—orfather，ormaster，orwhatyouwill—tosmiletoogaily，speaktoofreely，ormovetooquickly：but，intime，ithinkyouwilllearntobenaturalwithme，asifinditimpossibletobeconventionalwithyou；andthenyourlooksandmovementswillhavemorevivacityandvarietythantheydareoffernow.iseeatintervalstheglanceofacurioussortofbirdthroughtheclose-setbarsofacage：avivid，restless，resolutecaptiveisthere；wereitbutfree，itwouldsoarcloud-high.youarestillbentongoing？”

“ithasstrucknine，sir.”

“nevermind，—waitaminute：adèleisnotreadytogotobedyet.myposition，misseyre，withmybacktothefire，andmyfacetotheroom，favoursobservation.whiletalkingtoyou，ihavealsooccasionallywatchedadèle(ihavemyownreasonsforthinkingheracuriousstudy，—reasonsthatimay，nay，thatishall，imparttoyousomeday).shepulledoutofherbox，abouttenminutesago，alittlepinksilkfrock；rapturelitherfaceassheunfoldedit；coquetryrunsinherblood，blendswithherbrains，andseasonsthemarrowofherbones.‘ilfautquejel’essaie！’criedshe，‘etàl’instantmême！’andsherushedoutoftheroom.sheisnowwithsophie，undergoingarobingprocess：inafewminutesshewillre-enter；andiknowwhatishallsee，—aminiatureofcélinevarens，assheusedtoappearontheboardsattherisingof—：butnevermindthat.however，mytenderestfeelingsareabouttoreceiveashock：suchismypresentiment；staynow，toseewhetheritwillberealised.”

erelong，adèle’slittlefootwasheardtrippingacrossthehall.sheentered，transformedasherguardianhadpredicted.adressofrose-colouredsatin，veryshort，andasfullintheskirtasitcouldbegathered，replacedthebrownfrockshehadpreviouslyworn；awreathofrosebudscircledherforehead；herfeetweredressedinsilkstockingsandsmallwhitesatinsandals.

“est-cequemarobevabien？”criedshe，boundingforwards；“etmessouliers？etmesbas？tenez，jecroisquejevaisdanser！”

andspreadingoutherdress，shechasséedacrosstheroomtill，havingreachedmr.rochester，shewheeledlightlyroundbeforehimontip-toe，thendroppedononekneeathisfeet，exclaiming—

无一错一首一发一内一容一在一6一9一书一吧一看！

“monsieur，jevousremerciemillefoisdevotrebonté；”thenrising，sheadded，“c’estcommecelaquemamanfaisait，n’est-cepas，monsieur？”

“pre-cise-ly！”wastheanswer；“and，‘commecela，’shecharmedmyenglishgoldoutofmybritishbreeches’pocket.ihavebeengreen，too，misseyre，—ay，grassgreen：notamorevernaltintfreshensyounowthanoncefreshenedme.myspringisgone，however，butithasleftmethatfrenchfloweretonmyhands，which，insomemoods，iwouldfainberidof.notvaluingnowtherootwhenceitsprang；havingfoundthatitwasofasortwhichnothingbutgolddustcouldmanure，ihavebuthalfalikingtotheblossom，especiallywhenitlookssoartificialasjustnow.ikeepitandrearitratherontheromancatholicprincipleofexpiatingnumeroussins，greatorsmall，byonegoodwork.i’llexplainallthissomeday.good-night.”