twice-told tales- the birthmark-第1章
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TWICE…TOLD TALES
THE BIRTHMARK
by Nathaniel Hawthorne
IN THE LATTER PART of the last century； there lived a man of
science… an eminent proficient in every branch of natural
philosophy… who； not long before our story opens； had made
experience of a spiritual affinity； more attractive than any
chemical one。 He had left his laboratory to the care of an
assistant； cleared his fine countenance from the furnace…smoke； washed
the stain of acids from his fingers； and persuaded a beautiful woman
to become his wife。 In those days； when the comparatively recent
discovery of electricity； and other kindred mysteries of nature；
seemed to open paths into the region of miracle； it was not unusual
for the love of science to rival the love of woman； in its depth and
absorbing energy。 The higher intellect； the imagination； the spirit；
and even the heart； might all find their congenial aliment in pursuits
which； as some of their ardent votaries believed； would ascend from
one step of powerful intelligence to another； until the philosopher
should lay his hand on the secret of creative force； and perhaps
make new worlds for himself。 We know not whether Aylmer possessed this
degree of faith in man's ultimate control over nature。 He had
devoted himself； however； too unreservedly to scientific studies； ever
to be weaned from them by any second passion。 His love for his young
wife might prove the stronger of the two； but it could only be by
intertwining itself with his love of science； and uniting the strength
of the latter to its own。
Such an union accordingly took place； and was attended with truly
remarkable consequences； and a deeply impressive moral。 One day；
very soon after their marriage； Aylmer sat gazing at his wife； with
a trouble in his countenance that grew stronger； until he spoke。
〃Georgiana；〃 said he； 〃has it never occurred to you that the mark
upon your cheek might be removed？〃
〃No； indeed； said she； smiling； but perceiving the seriousness of
his manner； she blushed deeply。 〃To tell you the truth； it has been so
often called a charm； that I was simple enough to imagine it might
be so。〃
〃Ah； upon another face； perhaps it might；〃 replied her husband。
〃But never on yours！ No； dearest Georgiana； you came so nearly perfect
from the hand of Nature； that this slightest possible defect… which we
hesitate whether to term a defect or a beauty… shocks me； as being the
visible mark of earthly imperfection。〃
〃Shocks you； my husband！〃 cried Georgiana； deeply hurt； at first
reddening with momentary anger； but then bursting into tears。 〃Then
why did you take me from my mother's side？ You cannot love what shocks
you！〃
To explain this conversation； it must be mentioned； that； in the
centre of Georgiana's left cheek； there was a singular mark； deeply
interwoven； as it were； with the texture and substance of her face。 In
the usual state of her complexion… a healthy； though delicate bloom…
the mark wore a tint of deeper crimson； which imperfectly defined
its shape amid the surrounding rosiness。 When she blushed； it
gradually became more indistinct； and finally vanished amid the
triumphant rush of blood； that bathed the whole cheek with its
brilliant glow。 But； if any shifting emotion caused her to turn
pale； there was the mark again； a crimson stain upon the snow； in what
Aylmer sometimes deemed an almost fearful distinctness。 Its shape bore
not a little similarity to the human hand； though of the smallest
pigmy size。 Georgiana's lovers were wont to say； that some fairy； at
her birth…hour； had laid her tiny hand upon the infant's cheek； and
left this impress there； in token of the magic endowments that were to
give her such sway over all hearts。 Many a desperate swain would
have risked life for the privilege of pressing his lips to the
mysterious hand。 It must not be concealed； however； that the
impression wrought by this fairy sign…manual varied exceedingly；
according to the difference of temperament in the beholders。 Some
fastidious persons… but they were exclusively of her own sex… affirmed
that the Bloody Hand； as they chose to call it； quite destroyed the
effect of Georgiana's beauty； and rendered her countenance even
hideous。 But it would be as reasonable to say； that one of those small
blue stains； which sometimes occur in the purest statuary marble；
would convert the Eve of Powers to a monster。 Masculine observers；
if the birthmark did not heighten their admiration； contented
themselves with wishing it away； that the world might possess one
living specimen of ideal loveliness； without the semblance of a
flaw。 After his marriage… for he thought little or nothing of the
matter before… Aylmer discovered that this was the case with himself。
Had she been less beautiful… if Envy's self could have found
aught else to sneer at… he might have felt his affection heightened by
the prettiness of this mimic hand； now vaguely portrayed； now lost；
now stealing forth again； and glimmering to and fro with every pulse
of emotion that throbbed within her heart。 But； seeing her otherwise
so perfect； he found this one defect grow more and more intolerable；
with every moment of their united lives。 It was the fatal flaw of
humanity； which Nature； in one shape or another； stamps ineffaceably
on all her productions； either to imply that they are temporary and
finite； or that their perfection must be wrought by toil and pain。 The
Crimson Hand expressed the ineludible gripe； in which mortality
clutches the highest and purest of earthly mould； degrading them
into kindred with the lowest； and even with the very brutes； like whom
their visible frames return to dust。 In this manner； selecting it as
the symbol of his wife's liability to sin； sorrow； decay； and death；
Aylmer's sombre imagination was not long in rendering the birthmark
a frightful object； causing him more trouble and horror than ever
Georgiana's beauty； whether of soul or sense； had given him delight。
At all the seasons which should have been their happiest； he
invariably； and without intending it… nay； in spite of a purpose to
the contrary… reverted to this one disastrous topic。 Trifling as it at
first appeared； it so connected itself with innumerable trains of
thought； and modes of feeling； that it became the central point of
all。 With the morning twilight； Aylmer opened his eyes upon his wife's
face； and recognized the symbol of imperfection； and when they sat
together at the evening hearth； his eyes wandered stealthily to her
cheek； and beheld； flickering with the blaze of the wood fire； the
spectral Hand that wrote mortality where he would fain have
worshipped。 Georgiana soon learned to shudder at his gaze。 It needed
but a glance； with the peculiar expression that his face often wore；
to change the roses of her cheek into a death…like paleness； amid
which the Crimson Hand was brought strongly out； like a bas…relief
of ruby on the whitest marble。
Late； one night； when the lights were growing dim； so as hardly
to betray the stain on the poor wife's cheek； she herself； for the
first time； voluntarily took up the subject。
〃Do you remember； my dear Aylmer；〃 said she； with a feeble
attempt at a smile… 〃have you any recollection of a dream； last night；
about this odious Hand？〃
〃None！ none whatever！〃 replied Aylmer； starting； but then he
added in a dry； cold tone； affected for the sake of concealing the
real depth of his emotion： 〃I might well dream of it； for； before I
fell asleep； it had taken a pretty firm hold of my fancy。〃
〃And you did dream of it；〃 continued Georgiana； hastily； for she
dreaded lest a gush of tears should interrupt what she had to say…
〃A terrible dream！ I wonder that you can forget it。 Is it possible
to forget this one expression？ 'It is in her heart now… we must have
it out！' Reflect； my husband； for by all means I would have you recall
that dream。〃
The mind is in a sad state； when Sleep； the all…involving； cannot
confi
