《简爱/Jane Eyre（英文版）》作者：[英]夏绿蒂·勃朗特/Charlotte Bronte
内容简介：
Charlotte Bront?'s most beloved novel describes the passionate love between the courageous orphan Jane Eyre and the brilliant, brooding, and domineering Rochester. The loneliness and cruelty of Jane's childhood strengthens her natural independence and spirit, which prove invaluable when she takes a position as a governess at Thornfield Hall. But after she falls in love with her sardonic employer, her discovery of his terrible secret forces her to make a heart-wrenching choice. Ever since its publication in 1847, Jane Eyre has enthralled every kind of reader, from the most critical and cultivated to the youngest and most unabashedly romantic. It lives as one of the great triumphs of storytelling and as a moving and unforgettable portrayal of a woman's quest for self-respect.
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CHAPTER I
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THERE was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had beenwandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning;but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early)the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and arain so penetrating, that further outdoor exercise was now out ofthe question.
I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chillyafternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight,with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidingsof Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of myphysical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.
The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were now clustered roundtheir mama in the drawing-room: she lay reclined on a sofa by thefireside, and with her darlings about her (for the time neitherquarrelling nor crying) looked perfectly happy. Me, she haddispensed from joining the group; saying, 'She regretted to be underthe necessity of keeping me at a distance; but that until she heardfrom Bessie, and could discover by her own observation, that I wasendeavouring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable andchildlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner-something lighter, franker, more natural, as it were- she reallymust exclude me from privileges intended only for contented, happy,little children.'
'What does Bessie say I have done?' I asked.
'Jane, I don't like cavillers or questioners; besides, there issomething truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in thatmanner. Be seated somewhere; and until you can speak pleasantly,remain silent.'
A small breakfast-room adjoined the drawing-room, I slipped inthere. It contained a bookcase: I soon possessed myself of a volume,taking care that it should be one stored with pictures. I mounted intothe window-seat: gathering up my feet, I sat cross-legged, like aTurk; and, having drawn the red moreen curtain nearly close, I wasshrined in double retirement.
Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; tothe left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separatingme from the drear November day. At intervals, while turning over theleaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon.Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud; near a scene of wetlawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildlybefore a long and lamentable blast.
I returned to my book- Bewick's History of British Birds: theletterpress thereof I cared little for, generally speaking; and yetthere were certain introductory pages that, child as I was, I couldnot pass quite as a blank. They were those which treat of the hauntsof sea-fowl; of 'the solitary rocks and promontories' by them onlyinhabited; of the coast of Norway, studded with isles from itssouthern extremity, the Lindeness, or Naze, to the North Cape-
'Where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls,
Boils round the naked, melancholy isles
Of farthest Thule; and the Atlantic surge
Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.'
Nor could I pass unnoticed the suggestion of the bleak shores ofLapland, Siberia, Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, Iceland, Greenland, with'the vast sweep of the Arctic Zone, and those forlorn regions ofdreary space,- that reservoir of frost and snow, where firm fieldsof ice, the accumulation of centuries of winters, glazed in Alpineheights above heights, surround the pole and concentre themultiplied rigours of extreme cold.' Of these death-white realms Iformed an idea of my own: shadowy, like all the half-comprehendednotions that float dim through children's brains, but strangelyimpressive. The words in these introductory pages connected themselveswith the succeeding vignettes, and gave significance to the rockstanding up alone in a sea of billow and spray; to the broken boatstranded on a desolate coast; to the cold and ghastly moon glancingthrough bars of cloud at a wreck just sinking.
I cannot tell what sentiment haunted the quite solitary churchyard,with its inscribed headstone; its gate, its two trees, its lowhorizon, girdled by a broken wall, and its newly-risen crescent,attesting the hour of eventide.
The two ships becalmed on a torpid sea, I believed to be marinephantoms.
The fiend pinning down the thief's pack behind him, I passed overquickly: it was an object of terror.
So was the black horned thing seated aloof on a rock, surveying adistant crowd surrounding a gallows.
Each picture told a story; mysterious often to my undevelopedunderstanding and imperfect feelings, yet ever profoundly interesting:as interesting as the tales Bessie sometimes narrated on winterevenings, when she chanced to be in good humour; and when, havingbrought her ironing-table to the nursery hearth, she allowed us to sitabout it, and while she got up Mrs. Reed's lace frills, and crimpedher nightcap borders, fed our eager attention with passages of loveand adventure taken from old fairy tales and other ballads; or (asat a later period I discovered) from the pages of Pamela, and Henry,Earl of Moreland.
With Bewick on my knee, I was then happy: happy at least in my way.I feared nothing but interruption, and that came too soon. Thebreakfast-room door opened.
'Boh! Madam Mope!' cried the voice of John Reed; then he paused: hefound the room apparently empty.
'Where the dickens is she!' he continued. 'Lizzy! Georgy!(calling to his sisters) Joan is not here: tell mama she is run outinto the rain- bad animal!'
'It is well I drew the curtain,' thought I; and I wishedfervently he might not discover my hiding-place: nor would John Reedhave found it out himself; he was not quick either of vision orconception; but Eliza just put her head in at the door, and said atonce-
'She is in the window-seat, to be sure, Jack.'
And I came out immediately, for I trembled at the idea of beingdragged forth by the said Jack.
'What do you want?' I asked, with awkward diffidence.
'Say, "What do you want, Master Reed?"' was the answer. 'I want youto come here;' and seating himself in an armchair, he intimated by agesture that I was to approach and stand before him.
John Reed was a schoolboy of fourteen years old; four years olderthan I, for I was but ten: large and stout for his age, with a dingyand unwholesome skin; thick lineaments in a spacious visage, heavylimbs and large extremities. He gorged himself habitually at table,which made him bilious, and gave him a dim and bleared eye andflabby cheeks. He ought now to have been at school; but his mama hadtaken him home for a month or two, 'on account of his delicatehealth.' Mr. Miles, the master, affirmed that he would do very well ifhe had fewer cakes and sweetmeats sent him from home; but the mother'sheart turned from an opinion so harsh, and inclined rather to the morerefined idea that John's sallowness was owing to over-application and,perhaps, to pining after home.
John had not much affection for his mother and sisters, and anantipathy to me. He bullied and punished me; not two or three times inthe week, nor once or twice in the day, but continually: every nerve Ihad feared him, and every morsel of flesh in my bones shrank when hecame near. There were moments when I was bewildered by the terror heinspired, because I had no appeal whatever against either hismenaces or his inflictions; the servants did not like to offendtheir young master by taking my part against him, and Mrs. Reed wasblind and deaf on the subject: she never saw him strike or heard himabuse me, though he did both now and then in her very presence, morefrequently, however, behind her back.
Habitually obedient to John, I came up to his chair: he spentsome three minutes in thrusting out his tongue at me as far as hecould without damaging the roots: I knew he would soon strike, andwhile dreading the blow, I mused on the disgusting and ugly appearanceof him who would presently deal it. I wonder if he read that notion inmy face; for, all at once, without speaking, he struck suddenly andstrongly. I tottered, and on regaining my equilibrium retired back astep or two from his chair.
'That is for your impudence in answering mama awhile since,' saidhe, 'and for your sneaking way of getting behind curtains, and for thelook you had in your eyes two minutes since, you rat!'
Accustomed to John Reed's abuse, I never had an idea of replying toit; my care was how to endure the blow which would certainly followthe insult.
'What were you doing behind the curtain?' he asked.
'I was reading.'
'Show the book.'
I returned to the window and fetched it thence.
'You have no business to take our books; you are a dependant,mama says; you have no money; your father left you none; you oughtto beg, and not to live here with gentlemen's children like us, andeat the same meals we do, and wear clothes at our mama's expense. Now,I'll teach you to rummage my bookshelves: for they are mine; all thehouse belongs to me, or will do in a few years. Go and stand by thedoor, out of the way of the mirror and the windows.'
I did so, not at first aware what was his intention; but when I sawhim lift and poise the book and stand in act to hurl it, Iinstinctively started aside with a cry of alarm: not soon enough,however; the volume was flung, it hit me, and I fell, striking my headagainst the door and cutting it. The cut bled, the pain was sharp:my terror had passed its climax; other feelings succeeded.
'Wicked and cruel boy!' I said. 'You are like a murderer- you arelike a slave-driver- you are like the Roman emperors!'
I had read Goldsmith's History of Rome, and had formed my opinionof Nero, Caligula, etc. Also I had drawn parallels in silence, which Inever thought thus to have declared aloud.
'What! what!' he cried. 'Did she say that to me? Did you hearher, Eliza and Georgiana? Won't I tell mama? but first-'
He ran headlong at me: I felt him grasp my hair and my shoulder: hehad closed with a desperate thing. I really saw in him a tyrant, amurderer. I felt a drop or two of blood from my head trickle down myneck, and was sensible of somewhat pungent suffering: these sensationsfor the time predominated over fear, and I received him in franticsort. I don't very well know what I did with my hands, but he calledme 'Rat! Rat!' and bellowed out aloud. Aid was near him: Eliza andGeorgiana had run for Mrs. Reed, who was gone upstairs: she now cameupon the scene, followed by Bessie and her maid Abbot. We were parted:I heard the words-
'Dear! dear! What a fury to fly at Master John!'
'Did ever anybody see such a picture of passion!'
Then Mrs. Reed subjoined-
'Take her away to the red-room, and lock her in there.' Fourhands were immediately laid upon me, and I was borne upstairs.
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CHAPTER II--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I RESISTED all the way: a new thing for me, and a circumstancewhich greatly strengthened the bad opinion Bessie and Miss Abbotwere disposed to entertain of me. The fact is, I was a trifle besidemyself; or rather out of myself, as the French would say: I wasconscious that a moment's mutiny had already rendered me liable tostrange penalties, and, like any other rebel slave, I felt resolved,in my desperation, to go all lengths.
'Hold her arms, Miss Abbot: she's like a mad cat.'
'For shame! for shame!' cried the lady's-maid. 'What shockingconduct, Miss Eyre, to strike a young gentleman, your benefactress'sson! Your young master.'
'Master! How is he my master? Am I a servant?'
'No; you are less than a servant, for you do nothing for your keep.There, sit down, and think over your wickedness.'
They had got me by this time into the apartment indicated by Mrs.Reed, and had thrust me upon a stool: my impulse was to rise from itlike a spring; their two pair of hands arrested me instantly.
'If you don't sit still, you must be tied down,' said Bessie. 'MissAbbot, lend me your garters; she would break mine directly.'
Miss Abbot turned to divest a stout leg of the necessaryligature. This preparation for bonds, and the additional ignominy itinferred, took a little of the excitement out of me.
'Don't take them off,' I cried; 'I will not stir.'
In guarantee whereof, I attached myself to my seat by my hands.
'Mind you don't,' said Bessie; and when she had ascertained thatI was really subsiding, she loosened her hold of me; then she and MissAbbot stood with folded arms, looking darkly and doubtfully on myface, as incredulous of my sanity.
'She never did so before,' at last said Bessie, turning to theAbigail.
'But it was always in her,' was the reply. 'I've told Missisoften my opinion about the child, and Missis agreed with me. She'san underhand little thing: I never saw a girl of her age with somuch cover.'
Bessie answered not; but ere long, addressing me, she said-
'You ought to be aware, Miss, that you are under obligations toMrs. Reed: she keeps you: if she were to turn you off, you wouldhave to go to the poorhouse.'
I had nothing to say to these words: they were not new to me: myvery first recollections of existence included hints of the same kind.This reproach of my dependence had become a vague sing-song in my ear:very painful and crushing, but only half intelligible. Miss Abbotjoined in-
'And you ought not to think yourself on an equality with the MissesReed and Master Reed, because Missis kindly allows you to be broughtup with them. They will have a great deal of money, and you willhave none: it is your place to be humble, and to try to makeyourself agreeable to them.'
