Лучшие любовные истории / The Best Love Stories
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Giovanni hid his face.
“Her father’s natural love for his child,” continued Baglioni, “did not stop him from making her the victim of his insane zeal for science; for, let us do him justice, [26] he is as true a man of science. What, then, will be your fate? Beyond a doubt you are selected as the material of some new experiment. Perhaps the result is to be death; perhaps a fate more awful still. Rappaccini, with what he calls the interest of science, will hesitate at nothing.”
26
let us do him justice – давайте отдадим ему должное
“It is a dream,” murmured Giovanni to himself; “it must be a dream.”
“But,” said the professor, “cheer up, son of my friend. It is not yet too late for the rescue. Possibly we may even bring back this miserable child within the limits of ordinary nature, from which her father’s madness has taken her. Look at this little silver vase! It was made by the hands of the famous Benvenuto Cellini, [27] and is worthy to be a love gift to the most beautiful girl in Italy. But its contents are invaluable. One little sip of this antidote would make the most virulent poisons of the Borgias [28] harmless. I do not doubt that it will be as effective against those of Rappaccini. Give the vase to your Beatrice, and wait for the result.”
27
Benvenuto Cellini –
28
poisons of the Borgias – яды Борджиа – имеются в виду папа римский Александр Борджиа (1431–1508) и его сын Чезаре (1476–1507), которые в борьбе со своими политическими противниками широко применяли отравления.
Baglioni put a small silver vase on the table and went out, leaving what he had said to produce its effect upon the young man’s mind.
“We will fight Rappaccini,” thought he, as he went down the stairs; “but, to tell the truth of him, he is a wonderful man – a wonderful man not to be tolerated by those [29] who respect the good old rules of the medical profession.”
As long as Giovanni had known Beatrice, he had had some doubts as to her character; yet she seemed to him such a simple and natural girl, that the image now held up by Professor Baglioni looked strange and incredible. True, he could not quite forget the bouquet that faded in her hands, and the insect killed in the air by the fragrance of her breath. These incidents, however, were now taken as mistaken fantasies. There is something truer and more real than what we can see with the eyes and touch with the finger. On such better evidence had Giovanni built his faith in Beatrice. But now he was not able to stay at the height to which the early enthusiasm of passion had raised him; he fell down, suffering from doubts. Not that he gave her up; he did but distrust. [30] He decided to make a test that would satisfy him, once for all, [31] whether there was something dreadful in her physical nature and something monstrous in her soul. His eyes, gazing down afar, might have deceived him as to the lizard, the insect, and the flowers; but if he could witness, at the distance of a few steps, the sudden fading of one fresh flower in Beatrice’s hand, there would be room for no further question. [32] With this idea he bought a bouquet of fresh flowers cut only that morning.
29
a wonderful man not to be tolerated by those – замечательный человек, которого не должны терпеть те
30
not that he gave her up; he did but distrust – не то, чтобы он отказался от неё, но он перестал доверять ей
31
once for all – один раз и навсегда
32
there would be room for no further question – не останется места для дальнейших сомнений
It was now the usual hour of his daily interview with Beatrice. Before going down into the garden, Giovanni looked at his figure in the mirror, – only natural for a beautiful young man, yet this, probably, proved a certain shallowness of feeling and insincerity of character. He said to himself that his features had never before been so good, nor his eyes so bright.
“At least,” thought he, “her poison has not yet got into my system. I am no flower to die in her hands.”
With that thought he turned his eyes on the bouquet, which he had held in his hand for some time. A thrill of horror shot through him when he saw that those flowers were already beginning to fade. Giovanni grew white as marble, and stood motionless before the mirror, staring at his own reflection there as at something frightful. He remembered Baglioni’s remark about the fragrance that he felt in the room. It must have been the poison in his breath! Recovering from his stupor, he began to look for a spider in the corners of his room. He saw an active spider and breathed at it. The spider suddenly stopped moving; the web vibrated together with its body, and the spider hung dead in the web.
“Cursed! cursed!” murmured Giovanni, addressing himself. “Have you grown so poisonous that this deadly insect is killed by your breath?”
At that moment a rich, sweet voice came up from the garden.
“Giovanni! Giovanni! Come down!”
“Yes,” murmured Giovanni again. “She is the only being whom my breath may not kill! Would that it might! [33] ”
He rushed down, and in an instant was standing before the bright and loving eyes of Beatrice. A moment ago his rage and despair had been so fierce that he desired nothing so much as to kill her by a glance; but in her presence all this ugly mystery seemed an illusion, and he believed that the real Beatrice was an angel. He was not able to reach such high faith, still her presence had not lost its magic for him. Giovanni’s rage had left him, but the young man was gloomy. Beatrice immediately felt that there was blackness between them which neither he nor she could pass. They walked on together, sad and silent, and came to the marble fountain and to its pool of water on the ground, where grew the shrub with the purple blossoms. Giovanni was frightened by his delight – the appetite – with which he was inhaling the fragrance of the flowers.
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Would that it might! – Хотел бы я, чтоб это было иначе!
“Beatrice,” asked he, “where did this shrub come from?”
“My father created it,” answered she simply.
“Created it! created it!” repeated Giovanni. “What do you mean, Beatrice?”
“He knows the secrets of Nature,” replied Beatrice; “and, at the hour when I was born, this plant sprang from the ground, the child of his science, of his intellect, while I was but his human child. Do not approach it!” continued she, observing with terror that Giovanni was coming nearer to the shrub. “I, dearest Giovanni, – I grew up and blossomed with the plant, and I inhaled its breath. It was my sister, and I loved it as if it were human. Alas! – did you not suspect it?”
Here Giovanni looked so darkly upon her that Beatrice paused and trembled. But her faith in his love was so great that she had no doubt for an instant.
“There was an awful doom,” she continued, “the effect of my father’s fatal love of science, which estranged me from all society of my kind. [34] Until Heaven sent you, dearest Giovanni, oh, how lonely was your poor Beatrice!”
“Was it a hard doom?” asked Giovanni, fixing his eyes upon her.
“Only lately have I known how hard it was,” answered she, tenderly. “Oh, yes; but my heart was quiet.”
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which estranged me from all society of my kind – который сделал меня чужой в обществе себе подобных
Giovanni’s rage broke through like a lightning out of a dark cloud.
“The cursed one!” cried he with anger. “You have cut me also from all the warmth of life and dragged me into your region of horror!”
“Giovanni!” exclaimed Beatrice, turning her large bright eyes upon his face.
“Yes, poisonous thing!” repeated Giovanni, beside himself with passion. “You have done it! You have filled my veins with poison! You have made me as hateful, as ugly and deadly as yourself – a world’s monster! Now, if our breath is as fatal to ourselves as to all others, let us join our lips in one kiss of hatred, and so die!”
“What has happened to me?” murmured Beatrice. “Holy Virgin, [35] pity me, a poor heart-broken child!”
“Do you pray?” cried Giovanni, still with the same rage. “Your prayers, as they come from your lips, fill the atmosphere with death. Yes, yes; let us pray! Let us go to church! They that come after us will be killed!”
“Giovanni,” said Beatrice, “why do you join yourself with me in those terrible words? I, it is true, am horrible, as you say. But you, – you can go out of the garden and forget there ever was on earth such a monster as poor Beatrice?”
35
Holy Virgin – святая мадонна
“Do you pretend ignorance? [36] ” asked Giovanni. “Look! I have received this power from the daughter of Rappaccini.”
There were some insects flying through the air, and round Giovanni’s head, and were evidently attracted towards him by the same fragrance as that of the shrubs. He breathed at them, and smiled bitterly at Beatrice as some of the insects fell dead upon the ground.
“I see it! I see it!” shrieked Beatrice. “It is my father’s fatal science! No, no, Giovanni; it was not I! Never! never! I dreamed only to love you and be with you a little time, and to let you go away, leaving your image in my heart; for, Giovanni, believe it, though my body is filled with poison, my soul belongs to God, and wants love as its daily food. Kill me! Oh, what is death after such words as yours? But it was not I. I would never have done it.”
36
Do you pretend ignorance? – Ты притворяешься, что ничего не знаешь?