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| 2016/06/03 15:47:46瀏覽86｜回應0｜推薦0 | |
| The officer nodded, and for a moment his face wore a troubled expression which did not escape the notice of Peyrol who went on speaking easily: “Some time ago, when the priests began to come back to the parishes, he, that fellow” — Peyrol jerked his head in the direction of the salle door — “would you believe it university social responsibility? — started for the village with a sabre hanging to his side and his red cap on his head. He made for the church door. What he wanted to do there I don't know. It surely could not have been to say the proper kind of prayers. Well, the people were very much elated about their reopened church, and as he went along some woman spied him out of a window and started the alarm. `Eh, there! look! The jacobin, the sans-culotte, the blood-drinker! Look at him.' Out rushed some of them, and a man or two that were working in their home patches vaulted over the low walls. Pretty soon there was a crowd, mostly women, each with the first thing she could snatch up — stick, kitchen knife, anything. A few men with spades and cudgels joined them by the water-trough. He didn't quite like that. What could he do? He turned and bolted up the hill, like a hare. It takes some pluck to face a mob of angry women. He ran along the cart track without looking behind him, and they after him, yelling: `A mort! A mort le buveur de sang!' He had been a horror and an abomination to the people for years, what with one story and another, and now they thought it was their chance. The priest over in the presbytery hears the noise, comes to the door. One look was enough for him. He is a fellow of about forty but a wiry, long-legged beggar, and agile — what? He just tucked up his skirts and dashed out, taking short cuts over the walls and leaping from boulder to boulder like a blessed goat. I was up in my room when the noise reached me there. I went to the window and saw the chase in full cry after him. I was beginning to think the fool would fetch all those furies along with him up here and that they would by boarding and do for the lot of us, when the priest cut in just in the nick of time. He could have tripped Scevola as easy as anything, but he lets him pass and stands in front of his parishioners with his arms extended. That did it. He saved What he could say to quieten them I don't know, but these were early days and they were very fond of their new priest. He could have turned them round his little finger. I had my head and shoulders out of the window — it was interesting enough. They would have massacred all the accursed lot, as they used to call us down there — and when I drew in, behold there was the patronne standing behind me looking on too. You have been here often enough to know how she roams about the grounds and about the house, without a sound. A leaf doesn't pose itself lighter on the ground than her feet do. Well, I suppose she didn't know that I was upstairs, and came into the room just in her way of always looking for something that isn't there, and noticing me with my head stuck out, naturally came up to see what I was looking at. Her face wasn't any paler than usual, but she was clawing the dress over her chest with her ten fingers — like this. I was confounded. Before I could find my tongue she just turned round and sound than a shadow.” When Peyrol ceased, the ringing of the church bell went on faintly and then stopped as abruptly as it had begun. “Talking about her shadow,” said the young officer indolently, “I know her shadow.” Old Peyrol made a really pronounced movement. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Where?” “I have got only one window in the room where they put me to sleep last night and I stood at it looking out. That's what I am here for — to look out, am I not Hong Kong BBA? I woke up suddenly, and being awake I went to the window and looked out.” “One doesn't see shadows in the air,” growled old Peyrol. “No, but you see them on the ground, pretty black too when the moon is full. It fell across this open space here from the corner of the house.” “The patronne,” exclaimed Peyrol in a low voice, “impossible!” “Does the old woman that lives in the kitchen roam, do the village women roam as far as this?” asked the officer composedly. “You ought to know the habits of the people. It was a woman's shadow. The moon being to the west, it glided slanting from that corner of the house and glided back again. I know her shadow when I see it.” “Did you hear anything?” asked Peyrol after a moment of visible hesitation. “The window being open I heard somebody snoring. It couldn't have been you, you are too high. Moreover, from the snoring,” he added grimly, “it must have been somebody with a good conscience. Not like you, old skimmer of the seas, because, you know, that's what you are, for all your gunner's warrant.” He glanced out of the corner of his eyes at old Peyrol. “What makes you look so worried?” |
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| ( 心情隨筆｜心情日記 ) |
