Лучшие любовные истории / The Best Love Stories
Шрифт:
He made a step towards the shrub; but Beatrice rushed forward, with a shriek that went through his heart like a dagger. She caught his hand and drew it back.
“Do not touch it!” exclaimed she, in a voice of agony. “It is fatal!”
Then, she fled from him and disappeared beneath the portal. As Giovanni followed her with his eyes, he saw Dr. Rappaccini, who had been watching the scene, he did not know how long, within the shadow of the entrance.
No sooner was Guasconti alone in his room than [18] the image of Beatrice came back to his mind. She was human, gentle and womanly; she was capable of the heroism of love. Her frightful abilities were now either forgotten, or, even made her more unique. What had looked ugly was now beautiful; or it hid itself among other half ideas at the back of his mind. [19] Thus did he spend the night. Up rose the sun, and the young man woke up with pain in his hand – in his right hand – the very hand which Beatrice had taken in her own when he was about to pluck one of the purple flowers. On the back of that hand there was now a purple print like that of four small fingers, and the print of a thumb upon his wrist.
18
no sooner was Guasconti alone in his room than –
19
at the back of his mind – в глубине души
Oh, how stubbornly does love hold its faith until the moment comes when it cannot do so any more! Giovanni wrapped a handkerchief about his hand and wondered what insect had stung him, and soon forgot his pain thinking of Beatrice.
After the first interview, there was a second. A third; a fourth; and a meeting with Beatrice in the garden was no longer an incident in Giovanni’s daily life, but the space in which he lived. Nor was it otherwise [20] with the daughter of Rappaccini. She waited for the young man’s appearance. If, by any chance, he failed to come at the appointed moment, she stood beneath the window and sent up her rich voice: “Giovanni! Giovanni! Come down!” And down he went into that Eden of poisonous flowers.
20
nor was it otherwise – так же обстояло дело и
But there was still such a reserve in Beatrice’s behavior, that the idea of breaking through it scarcely occurred to his mind. They loved; their eyes conveyed the holy secret from one soul to the other; and yet there had been no touch of lips, or hands. He had never touched one of the ringlets of her hair or dress – so great was the physical barrier between them. On the few occasions when Giovanni was about to overstep the limit, Beatrice grew so sad, that not a word was necessary to stop him. At such times he was startled at the horrible suspicions that rose, monster-like, in his heart; his love grew thin and faint as the morning mist. But, when Beatrice’s face brightened again, she was no longer the mysterious, questionable being whom he had watched with so much horror; she was now the beautiful girl whom he knew.
A considerable time had now passed since Giovanni’s last meeting with Baglioni. One morning, however, he was unpleasantly surprised by a visit from the professor, whom he had scarcely thought of for whole weeks, and would gladly forget still longer. He could tolerate no companions except those having sympathy with his present feeling. Such sympathy was not to be expected from Professor Baglioni.
The visitor talked carelessly for a few moments about the gossip of the city and the university, and then took up another topic.
“I have been reading an old classic author lately,” said he, “and met with a story that strangely interested me. Possibly you may remember it. It is of an Indian prince, who sent a beautiful woman as a present to Alexander the Great. She was as lovely as the dawn and gorgeous as the sunset; but what was special about her was a certain rich perfume in her breath – richer than a garden of Persian roses. Alexander fell in love at first sight with this magnificent stranger; but a physician, happening to be present, [21] discovered a terrible secret of her.”
21
happening to be present – который случайно оказался там
“And what was that?” asked Giovanni, turning his eyes down to avoid those of the professor.
“That this lovely woman,” continued Baglioni, “had been fed with poisons from her birth upward, [22] until her whole body was so full of them that she herself had become the deadliest poison in the world. Poison was her element of life. With the rich perfume of her breath she poisoned the very air. Her love would have been poison – her embrace death. Is not this a marvellous tale?”
22
from her birth upward – с момента рождения
“A childish tale,” answered Giovanni, nervously starting from his chair. “I marvel how you, Professor, find time to read such nonsense among your studies.”
“By the way,” said the professor, looking about him, “what singular fragrance is this in your apartment? Is it the perfume of your gloves? It is faint, but delicious; and yet, after all, not pleasant. Were I to breathe it long, [23] I think it would make me ill. It is like the breath of a flower; but I see no flowers in the room.”
23
were I to breathe it long – если бы мне долго пришлось вдыхать его
“There are not any,” replied Giovanni, who had turned pale as the professor spoke; “I do not think, there is any fragrance except in your imagination. The recollection of a perfume, the idea of it, may easily be mistaken for a present reality.”
“Ay; but my sober imagination does not often play such tricks,” said Baglioni. “Our friend Rappaccini, as I have heard, makes medicines with rich odors. Doubtless, the learned Signora Beatrice would give her patients draughts as sweet as a girl’s breath; but woe to him that sips them! [24] ”
24
but woe to him that sips them – но горе испившему от них
Giovanni’s face showed many emotions. The tone in which the professor spoke of the lovely daughter of Rappaccini was hard for him to hear; and yet the view of her character opposite to his own gave way to a thousand suspicions. But he tried hard not to pay attention to them and to respond to Baglioni with a true lover’s perfect faith.
“Signor professor,” said he, “you were my father’s friend; perhaps, too, you want to behave like a true friend of his son. I should feel nothing towards you save respect; but, signor, there is one subject on which we must not speak. You do not know the Signora Beatrice.”
“Giovanni! my poor Giovanni!” answered the professor, with an expression of pity, “I know this girl better than yourself. You must hear the truth about the poisoner Rappaccini and his poisonous daughter; yes, as poisonous as she is beautiful. Listen; for, even should you do violence to my gray hairs, it shall not silence me. [25] That old tale of the Indian woman has become a truth by the deadly science of Rappaccini and in the person of the lovely Beatrice.”
25
even should you do violence to my gray hairs, it shall not silence me – даже если вы станете оскорблять мои седины, это не заставит меня замолчать