红字-the scarlet letter(英文版)-第17章

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y　slowly；　her　handiwork　became　what　would　nowbe　termed　the　fashion。　Whether　from　miseration　for　a　woman　of　somiserable　a　destiny；　or　from　the　morbid　curiosity　that　gives　afictitious　value　even　to　mon　or　worthless　things；　or　by　whateverother　intangible　circumstance　was　then；　as　now；　sufficient　tobestow；　on　some　persons；　what　others　might　seek　in　vain；　or　becauseHester　really　filled　a　gap　which　must　otherwise　have　remainedvacant；　it　is　certain　that　she　had　ready　and　fairly　requitedemployment　for　as　many　hours　as　she　saw　fit　to　occupy　with　her　needle。Vanity；　it　may　be；　chose　to　mortify　itself；　by　putting　on；　forceremonials　of　pomp　and　state；　the　garments　that　had　been　wrought　byher　sinful　hands。　Her　needle…work　was　seen　on　the　ruff　of　theGovernor；　military　men　wore　it　on　their　scarfs；　and　the　minister　onhis　hand；　it　decked　the　baby's　little　cap；　it　was　shut　up；　to　bemildewed　and　moulder　away；　in　the　coffins　of　the　dead。　But　it　is　notrecorded　that；　in　a　single　instance；　her　skill　was　called　in　aid　toembroider　the　white　veil　which　was　to　cover　the　pure　blushes　of　abride。　The　exception　indicated　the　ever　relentless　vigour　with　whichsociety　frowned　upon　her　sin。　　Hester　sought　not　to　acquire　anything　beyond　a　subsistence；　of　theplainest　and　most　ascetic　description；　for　herself；　and　a　simpleabundance　for　her　child。　Her　own　dress　was　of　the　coarsest　materialsand　the　most　sombre　hue；　with　only　that　one　ornament…　the　scarletletter…　which　it　was　her　doom　to　wear。　The　child's　attire；　on　theother　hand；　was　distinguished　by　a　fanciful；　or；　we　might　rathersay；　a　fantastic　ingenuity；　which　served；　indeed；　to　heighten　the　airycharm　that　early　began　to　develop　itself　in　the　little　girl；　but　whichappeared　to　have　also　a　deeper　meaning。　We　may　speak　further　of　ithereafter。　Except　for　that　small　expenditure　in　the　decoration　ofher　infant；　Hester　bestowed　all　her　superfluous　means　in　charity；　onwretches　less　miserable　than　herself；　and　who　not　infrequentlyinsulted　the　hand　that　fed　them。　Much　of　the　time；　which　she　mightreadily　have　applied　to　the　better　efforts　of　her　art；　she　employed　inmaking　coarse　garments　for　the　poor。　It　is　probable　that　there　wasan　idea　of　penance　in　this　mode　of　occupation；　and　that　she　offered　upa　real　sacrifice　of　enjoyment；　in　devoting　so　many　hours　to　suchrude　handiwork。　She　had　in　her　nature　a　rich；　voluptuous；　Orientalcharacteristic…　a　taste　for　the　gorgeously　beautiful；　which；　save　inthe　exquisite　productions　of　her　needle；　found　nothing　else；　in　allthe　possibilities　of　her　life；　to　exercise　itself　upon。　Women　derive　apleasure；　inprehensible　to　the　other　sex；　from　the　delicate　toil　ofthe　needle。　To　Hester　Prynne　it　might　have　been　a　mode　ofexpressing；　and　therefore　soothing；　the　passion　of　her　life。　Likeall　other　joys；　she　rejected　it　as　sin。　This　morbid　meddling　ofconscience　with　an　immaterial　matter　betokened；　it　is　to　be　feared；　nogenuine　and　steadfast　penitence；　but　something　doubtful；　somethingthat　might　be　deeply　wrong；　beneath。　　In　this　manner；　Hester　Prynne　came　to　have　a　part　to　perform　inthe　world。　With　her　native　energy　of　character；　and　rare　capacity；it　could　not　entirely　cast　her　off；　although　it　had　set　a　mark　uponher；　more　intolerable　to　a　woman's　heart　than　that　which　branded　thebrow　of　Cain。　In　all　her　intercourse　with　society；　however；　therewas　nothing　that　made　her　feel　as　if　she　belonged　to　it。　Everygesture；　every　word；　and　even　the　silence　of　those　with　whom　shecame　in　contact；　implied；　and　often　expressed；　that　she　wasbanished；　and　as　much　alone　as　if　she　inhabited　another　sphere；　ormunicated　with　the　mon　nature　by　other　organs　and　senses　thanthe　rest　of　human　kind。　She　stood　apart　from　moral　interests；　yetclose　beside　them；　like　a　ghost　that　revisits　the　familiar　fireside；and　can　no　longer　make　itself　seen　or　felt；　no　more　smile　with　thehousehold　joy；　nor　mourn　with　the　kindred　sorrow；　or；　should　itsucceed　in　manifesting　its　forbidden　sympathy；　awakening　only　terrorand　horrible　repugnance。　These　emotions；　in　fact；　and　its　bitterestscorn　besides；　seemed　to　be　the　sole　portion　that　she　retained　inthe　universal　heart。　It　was　not　an　age　of　delicacy；　and　herposition；　although　she　understood　it　well；　and　was　in　little　danger　offorgetting　it；　was　often　brought　before　her　vivid　self…perception；like　a　new　anguish；　by　the　rudest　touch　upon　the　tenderest　spot。　Thepoor；　as　we　have　already　said；　whom　she　sought　out　to　be　the　objectsof　her　bounty；　often　reviled　the　hand　that　was　stretched　forth　tosuccour　them。　Dames　of　elevated　rank；　likewise；　whose　doors　sheentered　in　the　way　of　her　occupation；　were　accustomed　to　distildrops　of　bitterness　into　her　heart；　sometimes　through　that　alchemyof　quiet　malice；　by　which　women　can　concoct　a　subtile　poison　fromordinary　trifles；　and　sometimes；　also；　by　a　coarser　expression；　thatfell　upon　the　sufferer's　defenceless　breast　like　a　rough　blow　uponan　ulcerated　wound。　Hester　had　schooled　herself　long　and　well；　shenever　responded　to　these　attacks；　save　by　a　flush　of　crimson　that　roseirrepressibly　over　her　pale　cheek；　and　again　subsided　into　thedepths　of　her　bosom。　She　was　patient…　a　martyr；　indeed…　but　sheforbore　to　pray　for　her　enemies；　lest；　in　spite　of　her　forgivingaspirations；　the　words　of　the　blessing　should　stubbornly　twistthemselves　into　a　curse。　　Continually；　and　in　a　thousand　other　ways；　did　she　feel　theinnumerable　throbs　of　anguish　that　had　been　so　cunningly　contrived　forher　by　the　undying；　the　ever…active　sentence　of　the　Puritantribunal。　Clergymen　paused　in　the　street　to　address　words　ofexhortation；　that　brought　a　crowd；　with　its　mingled　grin　and　frown；around　the　poor；　sinful　woman。　If　she　entered　a　church；　trusting　toshare　the　Sabbath　smile　of　the　Universal　Father；　it　was　often　hermishap　to　find　herself　the　text　of　the　discourse。　She　grew　to　have　adread　of　children；　for　they　had　imbibed　from　their　parents　a　vagueidea　of　something　horrible　in　this　dreary　woman；　gliding　silentlythrough　the　town；　with　never　any　panion　but　one　only　child。Therefore；　first　allowing　her　to　pass；　they　pursued　her　at　adistance　with　shrill　cries；　and　the　utterance　of　a　word　that　had　nodistinct　purport　to　their　own　minds；　but　was　none　the　less　terrible　toher；　as　proceeding　from　lips　that　babbled　it　unconsciously。　Itseemed　to　argue　so　wide　a　diffusion　of　her　shame；　that　all　nature　knewof　it；　it　could　have　caused　her　no　deeper　pang；　had　the　leaves　ofthe　trees　whispered　the　dark　story　among　themselves…　had　the　summerbreeze　murmured　about　it…　had　the　wintry　blast　shrieked　it　aloud！Another　peculiar　torture　was　felt　in　the　gaze　of　a　new　eye。　Whenstrangers　looked　curiously　at　the　scarlet　letter…　and　none　ever　failedto　do　so…　they　branded　it　afresh　into　Hester's　soul；　so　that；oftentimes；　she　could　scarcely　refrain；　yet　always　did　refrain；　fromcovering　the　symbol　with　her　hand。　But　then；　again；　an　accustomedeye　had　likewise　its　own　anguish　to　inflict。　Its　cool　stare　offamiliarity　was　intolerable。　From　first　to　last；　in　short；　HesterPrynne　had　always　this　dreadful　agony　in　feeling　a　human　eye　uponthe　token；　the　spot　never　grew　callous；　it　seemed；　on　the　contrary；　togrow　more　sensitive　with　daily　torture。　　But　sometimes；　once　in　many　days；　or　perchance　in　many　months；　shefelt　an　eye…　a　human　eye…　upon　the　ignominious　brand；　that　seemed　togive　a　momentary　relief；　as　if　half　of　her　agony　were　shared。　The　nextinstant；　back　it　all　rushed　again；　with　still　a　deeper　throb　ofpain；　for；　in　that　brief　interval；　she　had　sinned　anew。　Had　Hestersinned　alone？　　Her　imagination　was　somewhat　affected；　and；　had　she　been　of　a　softermoral　and　intellectual　fibre；　would　have　been　still　more　so；　by　thestrange　and　solitary　anguish　of　her　life。　Walking　to　and　fro；　withthose　lonely　footsteps；　in　the　little　world　with　which　she　wasoutwardly　connected；　it　now　and　then　appeared　to　Hester…　if　altogetherfancy；　it　was　nevertheless　too　potent　to　be　resisted…　she　felt　orfancied；　then；　that　the　scarlet　letter　had　endowed　her　with　a　newsense。　She　shuddered　to　believe；　yet　could　not　help　believing；　that　itgave　her　a　sympathetic　knowledge　of　the　hidden　sin　in　other　hearts。She　was　terror…stricken　by　the　revelations　that　were　thus　made。　Whatwere　they？　Could　they　be　other　than　the　insidious　whispers　of　thebad　angel；　who　would　fain　have　persuaded　the　struggling　woman；　asyet　only　half　his　victim；　that　the　outward　guise　of　purity　was　but　alie；　and　that；　if　truth　were　everywhere　to　be　shown；　a　scarletletter　would　blaze　forth　on　many　a　bosom　besides　Hester　Prynne's？Or；　must　she　receive　those　intimations…　so　obscure；　yet　so　distinct…as　truth？　In　all　her　miserable　experience；　there　was　nothing　else　soawful　and　so　loathsome　as　this　sense。　It　perplexed；　as　well　as　shockedher；　by　the　irreverent　inopportuneness　of　the　occasions　that　broughtit　into　vivid　action。　Sometimes　the　red　infamy　upon　her　breast　wouldgive　a　sympathetic　throb；　as　she　passed　near　a　venerable　minister　ormagistrate；　the　model　of　piety　and　justice；　to　whom　that　age　ofantique　reverence　looked　up；　as　to　a　mortal　man　in　fellowship　withangels。　〃What　evil　thing　is　at　hand？〃　would　Hester　say　to　herself。Lifting　her　reluctant　eyes；　there　would　be　nothing　human　within　thescope　of　view；　save　the　form　of　this　earthly　saint！　Again；　a　mysticsisterhood　would　contumaciously　assert　itself；　as　she　met　thesanctifie