chapter 66

2019-05-08 07:30:02 66
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“我”乘着雪橇费劲地在冰天雪地中追赶“怪物”,在发现他的踪迹并奋力追赶而上时,冰层断裂,顷刻间,“我”前功尽弃......


-chapter 66-

In this manner many appalling hours passed; several of my dogs died, and I

myself was about to sink under the accumulation of distress when I saw your

vessel riding at anchor and holding forth to me hopes of succour and life.

I had no conception that vessels ever came so far north and was astounded

at the sight. I quickly destroyed part of my sledge to construct oars, and

by these means was enabled, with infinite fatigue, to move my ice raft in

the direction of your ship. I had determined, if you were going southwards,

still to trust myself to the mercy of the seas rather than abandon my

purpose. I hoped to induce you to grant me a boat with which I could pursue

my enemy. But your direction was northwards. You took me on board when my

vigour was exhausted, and I should soon have sunk under my multiplied

hardships into a death which I still dread, for my task is unfulfilled.

 

Oh!  When will my guiding spirit, in conducting me to the dæmon, allow

me the rest I so much desire; or must I die, and he yet live?  If I do,

swear to me, Walton, that he shall not escape, that you will seek him

and satisfy my vengeance in his death.  And do I dare to ask of you to

undertake my pilgrimage, to endure the hardships that I have undergone?

No; I am not so selfish.  Yet, when I am dead, if he should appear, if

the ministers of vengeance should conduct him to you, swear that he

shall not live—swear that he shall not triumph over my accumulated

woes and survive to add to the list of his dark crimes.  He is eloquent

and persuasive, and once his words had even power over my heart; but

trust him not.  His soul is as hellish as his form, full of treachery

and fiend-like malice.  Hear him not; call on the names of William,

Justine, Clerval, Elh, my father, and of the wretched Victor, and

thrust your sword into his heart.  I will hover near and direct the

steel aright.

 

Walton, _in continuation._

 

 

August 26th, 17—.

 

 

You have read this strange and terrific story, Margaret; and do you not

feel your blood congeal with horror, like that which even now curdles

mine?  Sometimes, seized with sudden agony, he could not continue his

tale; at others, his voice broken, yet piercing, uttered with

difficulty the words so replete with anguish.  His fine and lovely eyes

were now lighted up with indignation, now subdued to downcast sorrow

and quenched in infinite wretchedness.  Sometimes he commanded his

countenance and tones and related the most horrible incidents with a

tranquil voice, suppressing every mark of agitation; then, like a

volcano bursting forth, his face would suddenly change to an expression

of the wildest rage as he shrieked out imprecations on his persecutor.

 

His tale is connected and told with an appearance of the simplest truth,

yet I own to you that the letters of Felix and Safie, which he showed me,

and the apparition of the monster seen from our ship, brought to me a

greater conviction of the truth of his narrative than his asseverations,

however earnest and connected. Such a monster has, then, really existence!

I cannot doubt it, yet I am lost in surprise and admiration. Sometimes I

endeavoured to gain from Frankenstein the particulars of his

creature’s formation, but on this point he was impenetrable.

 

“Are you mad, my friend?” said he. “Or whither does your

senseless curiosity lead you? Would you also create for yourself and the

world a demoniacal enemy? Peace, peace! Learn my miseries and do not seek

to increase your own.”

 

Frankenstein discovered that I made notes concerning his history; he asked

to see them and then himself corrected and augmented them in many places,

but principally in giving the life and spirit to the conversations he held

with his enemy. “Since you have preserved my narration,” said

he, “I would not that a mutilated one should go down to

posterity.”

 

Thus has a week passed away, while I have listened to the strangest

tale that ever imagination formed.  My thoughts and every feeling of my

soul have been drunk up by the interest for my guest which this tale

and his own elevated and gentle manners have created.  I wish to soothe

him, yet can I counsel one so infinitely miserable, so destitute of

every hope of consolation, to live?  Oh, no!  The only joy that he can

now know will be when he composes his shattered spirit to peace and

death.  Yet he enjoys one comfort, the offspring of solitude and

delirium; he believes that when in dreams he holds converse with his

friends and derives from that communion consolation for his miseries or

excitements to his vengeance, that they are not the creations of his

fancy, but the beings themselves who visit him from the regions of a

remote world.  This faith gives a solemnity to his reveries that render

them to me almost as imposing and interesting as truth.

 

Our conversations are not always confined to his own history and

misfortunes.  On every point of general literature he displays

unbounded knowledge and a quick and piercing apprehension.  His

eloquence is forcible and touching; nor can I hear him, when he relates

a pathetic incident or endeavours to move the passions of pity or love,

without tears.  What a glorious creature must he have been in the days

of his prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin!  He seems

to feel his own worth and the greatness of his fall.

 

“When younger,” said he, “I believed myself destined for

some great enterprise. My feelings are profound, but I possessed a coolness

of judgment that fitted me for illustrious achievements. This sentiment of

the worth of my nature supported me when others would have been oppressed,

for I deemed it criminal to throw away in useless grief those talents that

might be useful to my fellow creatures. When I reflected on the work I had

completed, no less a one than the creation of a sensitive and rational

animal, I could not rank myself with the herd of common projectors. But

this thought, which supported me in the commencement of my career, now

serves only to plunge me lower in the dust. All my speculations and hopes

are as nothing, and like the archangel who aspired to omnipotence, I am

chained in an eternal hell. My imagination was vivid, yet my powers of

analysis and application were intense; by the union of these qualities I

conceived the idea and executed the creation of a man. Even now I cannot

recollect without passion my reveries while the work was incomplete. I trod

heaven in my thoughts, now exulting in my powers, now burning with the idea

of their effects. From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty

ambition; but how am I sunk! Oh! My friend, if you had known me as I once

was, you would not recognise me in this state of degradation. Despondency

rarely visited my heart; a high destiny seemed to bear me on, until I fell,

never, never again to rise.”

(1235)


今日短语

1. be about to do sth. 即将做某事

2. triumph over...战胜...

3. converse with sb.与...交谈,谈话

4. be confined to sth. 限制于

5. destined for...注定...


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