the wandering jew, volume 9-第14章
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then placed upon the table; to the great joy of the guests; who began to
forget their past alarms。
〃Now;〃 said Jacques to Morok; in a taunting tone; 〃while the punch is
burning; we will have our duel。 The company shall judge。〃 Then; pointing
to the two bottles of brandy; which the waiter had brought; Jacques
added: 〃Choose your weapon!〃
〃Do you choose;〃 answered Morok。
〃Well! here's your bottleand here's your glass。 Ninny Moulin shall be
umpire。〃
〃I do not refuse to be judge of the field;〃 answered the religious
writer; 〃only I must warn you; comrade; that you are playing a desperate
game; and that just now; as one of these gentlemen has said; the neck of
a bottle of brandy in one's mouth; is perhaps more dangerous than the
barrel of a loaded pistol。〃
〃Give the word; old fellow!〃 said Jacques; interrupting Ninny Moulin; 〃or
I will give it myself。〃
〃Since you will have it soso be it!〃
〃The first who gives in is conquered;〃 said Jacques。
〃Agreed!〃 answered Morok。
〃Come; gentlemen; attention! we must follow every movement;〃 resumed
Ninny Moulin。 〃Let us first see if the bottles are of the same size
equality of weapons being the foremost condition。〃
During these preparations; profound silence reigned in the room。 The
courage of the majority of those present; animated for a moment by the
arrival of the punch; was soon again depressed by gloomy thoughts; as
they vaguely foresaw the danger of the contest between Morok and Jacques。
This impression joined to the sad thoughts occasioned by the incident of
the coffin; darkened by degrees many a countenance。 Some of the guests;
indeed; continued to make a show of rejoicing; but their gayety appeared
forced。 Under certain circumstances; the smallest things will have the
most powerful effect。 We have said that; after sunset; a portion of this
large room was plunged in obscurity; therefore; the guests who sat in the
remote corners of the apartment; had no other light than the reflection
of the flaming punch。 Now it is well known; that the flame of burning
spirit throws a livid; bluish tint over the countenance; it was therefore
a strange; almost frightful spectacle; to see a number of the guests; who
happened to be at a distance from the windows; in this ghastly and
fantastic light。
The painter; more struck than all the rest by this effect of color;
exclaimed: 〃Look! at this end of the table; we might fancy ourselves
feasting with cholera…patients; we are such fine blues and greens。
This jest was not much relished。 Fortunately; the loud voice of Ninny
Moulin demanded attention; and for a moment turned the thoughts of the
company。
〃The lists are open;〃 cried the religious writer; really more frightened
than he chose to appear。 〃Are you ready; brave champions?〃 he added。
〃We are ready;〃 said Morok and Jacques。
〃Present! fire!〃 cried Ninny Moulin; clapping his hands。 And the two
drinkers each emptied a tumbler full of brandy at a draught。
Morok did not even knit his brow; his marble face remained impassible;
with a steady hand he replaced his glass upon the table。 But Jacques; as
he put down his glass; could not conceal a slight convulsive trembling;
caused by internal suffering。
〃Bravely done!〃 cried Ninny Moulin。 〃The quarter of a bottle of brandy
at a draughtit is glorious! No one else here would be capable of such
prowess。 And now; worthy champions; if you believe me; you will stop
where you are。〃
〃Give the word!〃 answered Jacques; intrepidly。 And; with feverish and
shaking hand; he seized the bottle; then suddenly; instead of filling his
glass; he said to Morok: 〃Bah! we want no glasses。 It is braver to drink
from the bottle。 I dare you to it!〃
Morok's only answer was to shrug his shoulders; and raise the neck of the
bottle to his lips。 Jacques hastened to imitate him。 The thin;
yellowish; transparent glass gave a perfect view of the progressive
diminution of the liquor。 The stony countenance of Morok; and the pale
thin face of Jacques; on which already stood large drops of cold sweat;
were now; as well as the features of the other guests; illuminated by the
bluish light of the punch; every eye was fixed upon Morok and Jacques;
with that barbarous curiosity which cruel spectacles seem involuntarily
to inspire。
Jacques continued to drink; holding the bottle in his left hand;
suddenly; he closed and tightened the fingers of his right hand with a
convulsive movement; his hair clung to his icy forehead; and his
countenance revealed an agony of pain。 Yet he continued to drink; only;
without removing his lips from the neck of the bottle; he lowered it for
an instant; as if to recover breath。 Just then; Jacques met the sardonic
look of Morok; who continued to drink with his accustomed impassibility。
Thinking that he saw the expression of insulting triumph in Morok's
glance; Jacques raised his elbow abruptly; and drank with avidity a few
drops more。 But his strength was exhausted。 A quenchless fire devoured
his vitals。 His sufferings were too intense; and he could no longer bear
up against them。 His head fell backwards; his jaws closed convulsively;
he crushed the neck of the bottle between his teeth; his neck grew rigid;
his limbs writhed with spasmodic action; and he became almost senseless。
〃Jacques; my good fellow! it is nothing;〃 cried Morok; whose ferocious
glance now sparkled with diabolical joy。 Then; replacing his bottle on
the table; he rose to go to the aid of Ninny Moulin; who was vainly
endeavoring to hold Sleepinbuff。
This sudden attack had none of the symptoms of cholera。 Yet terror
seized upon all present; one of the women was taken with hysterics; and
another uttered piercing cries and fainted away。 Ninny Moulin; leaving
Jacques in the hands of Morok; ran towards the door to seek for help;
when that door was suddenly opened; and the religious writer drew back in
alarm; at the sight of the unexpected personage who appeared on the
threshold。
CHAPTER XXIL
MEMORIES。
The person before whom Ninny Moulin stopped in such extreme astonishment
was the Bacchanal Queen。
Pale and wan; with; hair in disorder; hollow cheeks; sunken eyes; and
clothed almost in rags; this brilliant and joyous heroine of so many mad
orgies was now only the shadow of her former self。 Misery and grief were
impressed on that countenance; once so charming。 Hardly had she entered
the room; when Cephyse paused; her mournful and unquiet gaze strove to
penetrate the half…obscurity of the apartment; in search of him she
longed to see。 Suddenly the girl started; and uttered a loud scream。
She had just perceived; at the other side of a long table; by the bluish
light of the punch; Jacques struggling with Morok and one of the guests;
who were hardly able to restrain his convulsive movements。
At this sight Cephyse; in her first alarm; carried away by her affection;
did what she had so often done in the intoxication of joy and pleasure。
Light and agile; instead of losing precious time in making a long
circuit; she sprang at once upon the table; passed nimbly through the
array of plates and bottles; and with one spring was by the side of the
sufferer。
〃Jacques!〃 she exclaimed; without yet remarking the lion…tamer; and
throwing herself on the neck of her lover。 〃Jacques! it is ICephyse!〃
That well…known voice; that heart…piercing cry; which came from the
bottom of the soul; seemed not unheard by Sleepinbuff。 He turned his
head mechanically towards the Bacchanal Queen; without opening his eyes;
and heaved a deep sigh; his stiffened limbs relaxed; a slight trembling
succeeded to the convulsions; and in a few seconds his heavy eyelids were
raised with an effort; so as to uncover his dull and wandering gaze。
Mute with astonishment; the spectators of this scene felt an uneasy
curiosity。 Cephyse; kneeling beside her lover; bathed his hands in her
tears; covered them with kisses; and exclaimed; in a voice broken by
sobs; 〃It is ICephyseI have found you againit was not my fault that
I abandoned you! Forgive me; forgive〃
〃Wretched woman!〃 cried Morok; irritated at this meeting; which might;
perhaps; be fatal to his projec