The Mysteries of Udolpho

Os Mistérios de Udolfo

Ann Radcliffe

ESL Easy Read

Reading Comprehension B1 • Original Text • Português Support

SAMPLE

Copyright

Fonte original - domínio público

Esta edição ESL Easy Read foi adaptada a partir de The Mysteries of Udolpho, de Ann Radcliffe, publicado originalmente em 1794.

A obra original encontra-se em domínio público e pode ser utilizada, reproduzida, distribuída e adaptada de acordo com a legislação aplicável.

Autor

Ann Radcliffe (1764 - 1823)

Estados Unidos

Esta obra foi publicada originalmente em 1794.

Nos Estados Unidos, obras publicadas antes de 1930 encontram-se normalmente em domínio público.

Com base no ano de publicação disponível, esta obra encontra-se em domínio público nos Estados Unidos desde 1º de janeiro de 1890.

Brasil

Autor: Ann Radcliffe (1764 - 1823)

De acordo com a Lei nº 9.610/1998, os direitos patrimoniais expiram 70 anos após a morte do autor, contados a partir de 1º de janeiro do ano seguinte ao falecimento.

Ann Radcliffe faleceu em 1823.

Situação no Brasil: DOMÍNIO PÚBLICO.

Portugal

Autor: Ann Radcliffe (1764 - 1823)

De acordo com o Código do Direito de Autor e dos Direitos Conexos, a proteção patrimonial dura 70 anos após a morte do autor.

Ann Radcliffe faleceu em 1823.

Situação em Portugal: DOMÍNIO PÚBLICO.

Dados da publicação original

Obra original: The Mysteries of Udolpho

Autor: Ann Radcliffe

Primeira publicação: 1794

Local: London, UK

Primeiro editor: G. G. and J. Robinson

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Esta adaptação ESL Easy Read

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Introdução

Como ler este livro

Cada livro desta coleção é apresentado em um nível de leitura simplificada, de acordo com o CEFR - Quadro Europeu Comum de Referência para Línguas.

A2 - Básico: indicado para leitores que já compreendem frases simples, vocabulário frequente e textos curtos sobre situações do cotidiano.

B1 - Intermediário: indicado para leitores que conseguem compreender as ideias principais de textos claros e acompanhar uma narrativa com vocabulário e estruturas de dificuldade moderada.

B2 - Intermediário avançado: indicado para leitores que já conseguem compreender textos mais complexos, acompanhar descrições detalhadas e reconhecer uma variedade maior de vocabulário e estruturas gramaticais.

Este livro foi adaptado para o nível B1.

Você pode começar a lê-lo mesmo sem dominar completamente o inglês. O texto foi simplificado para facilitar a compreensão, preservando a história, os personagens, o ambiente e os principais acontecimentos da obra original.

O objetivo não é substituir a obra original, mas criar uma passagem gradual entre o inglês que você já conhece e a linguagem literária do texto completo.

Como usar En/Pt

No texto simplificado em inglês, En/Pt abre a página correspondente.

A página En/Pt apresenta três camadas independentes, sempre nesta ordem: a tradução em português do texto simplificado; o trecho correspondente do original em inglês; e a tradução em português do original.

No texto original em inglês, Pt abre diretamente o mesmo parágrafo na versão portuguesa. Nessa versão, En retorna ao mesmo parágrafo no texto original em inglês. Na página En/Pt, Original English retorna de Original Português ao mesmo parágrafo original.

Como usar o glossário

As palavras e expressões incluídas no glossário são marcadas no texto. Clique ou selecione uma delas para abrir a entrada correspondente.

Cada entrada apresenta:

• a palavra ou expressão original em inglês;

• a sua pronúncia fonética;

• a tradução em português;

• um exemplo de uso em português;

• um exemplo de uso em inglês;

• até seis trechos do livro em que a palavra ou expressão aparece, ou todos os trechos disponíveis quando houver menos de seis ocorrências.

Cada ocorrência apresentada no glossário inclui um link direto para o ponto exato do livro em que a palavra ou expressão foi usada.

Depois de consultar uma ocorrência, o leitor pode retornar diretamente ao ponto do texto de onde abriu o glossário ou navegar para qualquer outra ocorrência da mesma palavra ou expressão dentro do livro.

A função da tradução em português

Procuramos oferecer traduções em português claras, naturais e literariamente agradáveis, tanto para o texto simplificado quanto para o texto original.

Ainda assim, a tradução deve ser entendida apenas como instrumento de apoio. Este livro não foi concebido para ser lido principalmente em português: seu objetivo é ajudar você a ler em inglês e recorrer ao português somente quando necessário.

Sempre que possível, tente primeiro compreender o trecho em inglês. Consulte a tradução para confirmar o sentido, esclarecer uma dificuldade ou comparar estruturas; depois, retorne ao texto em inglês.

Sobre este livro

Após a morte dos amados pais, a sensível jovem francesa Emily St. Aubert fica sob a tutela de uma tia frívola, que se casa com Montoni, um nobre italiano calculista e cruel. Separada de seu dedicado pretendente Valancourt, Emily é levada ao ameaçador castelo de Udolpho, nas montanhas, lugar de corredores sombrios, música misteriosa, horrores velados e crimes sussurrados. Enquanto Montoni planeja apoderar-se da fortuna dela e da tia, Emily enfrenta prisão, ameaças e uma atmosfera constante de pavor, sustentada pela fé e pelo autocontrole. Muitos terrores aparentemente sobrenaturais acabam explicados por causas naturais, característica do método de Radcliffe. Depois de fugas perigosas e da revelação de antigos segredos familiares, Emily se liberta de Udolpho e finalmente se reúne a Valancourt numa felicidade duradoura.

Contato

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Contato: admin@esleasyread.com

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Reading Comprehension B1

1 - Chapter I

2 - I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul. SHAKESPEARE

3 - Chapter III

4 - Chapter IV

5 - While in the rosy vale Love breath'd his infant sighs, from anguish free. Thomson

6 - Chapter VI

7 - Chapter VII

8 - Chapter VIII

9 - Chapter IX

Chapter I

En/Pt Home is the place of love, joy, peace, and abundance, where friends and family support one another and live happily together.

En/Pt In 1584, Monsieur St. Aubert's chateau stood on the pleasant banks of the Garonne in Gascony. From its windows, one could see the countryside of Guienne and Gascony along the river, with rich woods, vines, and olive trees. To the south stood the great Pyrenees, sometimes hidden by clouds and sometimes seen in clear, sharp shapes. At times they looked bare and pale in the air, and at other times dark pine forests covered their slopes. These high cliffs were made softer by the green fields and woods below, with flocks, cattle, and simple cottages. To the north and east, the plains of Guienne and Languedoc faded into the mist. To the west, Gascony ended at the waters of Biscay.

En/Pt Monsieur St. Aubert liked to walk with his wife and daughter along the banks of the Garonne and listen to the music on the water. He had seen the world beyond quiet country life and had joined both lively and busy social circles. But the kind picture of people that he had made in his youth was sadly changed by experience. Even so, his beliefs stayed strong and his kindness did not fade. He left the crowd, more in pity than anger, for the quiet of nature, books, and home life.

En/Pt He came from a younger branch of a famous family. It was planned that his lack of money would be fixed by a rich marriage or success in politics. But St. Aubert had too much honor for the second and too little ambition for the first. After his father died, he married a very kind woman, equal in birth but not richer. His father's generosity or waste had left his affairs in trouble. So he sold part of the family land to Monsieur Quesnel, his wife's brother. Then he retired to a small estate in Gascony. There he enjoyed marriage, family, knowledge, and genius.

En/Pt He had loved this place since he was a child. He often visited it as a boy. The kind old peasant who took care of it gave him fruit and cream. Those happy memories never left him. He remembered the green fields where he ran as a healthy, free youth. He remembered the woods where he first felt a sad melancholy that later became part of his character. He remembered the mountain paths, the river, and the distant plains. When he finally left the world, he came here to make his dream real.

En/Pt The building was just a summer cottage. It was interesting to strangers because of its simple beauty and the lovely view around it. St. Aubert felt fond of every part of the house from his youth. He would not let a stone be removed. So the new building matched the old style, and together they made a simple and elegant home. Madame St. Aubert's taste showed inside. The furniture and decorations were as simple and pure as the people who lived there.

En/Pt The library was on the west side of the chateau. It had many good books in ancient and modern languages. The library opened to a grove on a gentle slope that went down to the river. Tall trees gave a sad but pleasant shade. From the windows, you could see the wide landscape to the west and the Pyrenees on the left. Next to the library was a greenhouse with rare and beautiful plants. St. Aubert loved botany. He often spent whole days in the nearby mountains, studying plants. Sometimes his wife and daughter went with him. They took a basket for plants and another with food. They walked among the most beautiful and wild scenes. When they got tired of walking on steep cliffs, they found a green spot in the mountains. There, under tall larch or cedar trees, they ate their simple meal. The cool stream and the smell of wild flowers and herbs made it sweeter.

En/Pt On the east side of the greenhouse, facing the plains of Languedoc, was a room that Emily called hers. It had her books, drawings, musical instruments, and some favorite birds and plants. She practiced her elegant arts there. She learned because she loved them. With the help of her parents, she became skilled early. The windows of this room were very nice. They went down to the floor and opened onto a small lawn around the house. From there, the eye was led between groves of almond, palm, flowering ash, and myrtle to the distant view where the Garonne river wound.

En/Pt In the evenings, after the day's work was done, the peasants of this cheerful land were often seen dancing in groups by the river. Their lively songs, easy steps, playful dance patterns, and the way the girls arranged their simple clothes gave the scene a very French character.

En/Pt The front of the chateau faced south to the mountains. On the ground floor, there was a simple hall and two nice sitting rooms. The first floor had bedrooms and one room that opened to a balcony. That room was usually used for breakfast.

En/Pt St. Aubert made the land around his home look very nice. But he loved old things from his childhood, so sometimes he kept them even if they were not the most beautiful. There were two old larches that blocked the view, but he did not want to cut them down. He also planted a small forest of beech, pine, and mountain-ash. On a high terrace by the river, he planted orange, lemon, and palm trees. Their fruit smelled wonderful in the cool evening. There were also a few other trees. Under a large plane-tree near the river, St. Aubert liked to sit with his wife and children on summer evenings. They watched the sunset and the shadows as night came. He also loved to read and talk with his wife, or play with his children. He felt very happy and had no wish for more. He knew he was doing right, and this made him calm and grateful.

En/Pt Even in the deepest twilight, St. Aubert stayed under his favorite plane-tree. He loved the quiet hour when the last light fades, the stars appear, and the water reflects them. This time made him feel thoughtful and sometimes elevated. When the moonlight shone through the leaves, he stayed longer and ate a simple supper of cream and fruit under the tree. Then, in the still night, he heard the nightingale singing, which brought sweet sadness.

En/Pt The first sad events after his retirement were the deaths of his two sons. They died when they were young and charming. St. Aubert tried to hide his sadness for his wife's sake, but he could not be calm about such losses. Only one daughter remained. He watched her grow with love and tried to help her avoid unhappiness. She was very sensitive and kind, but too delicate to be always peaceful. As she grew, her sensitivity made her thoughtful and gentle, which added grace to her beauty. But St. Aubert knew that this quality could be dangerous. He tried to strengthen her mind and teach her to control her feelings. He sometimes gave her small disappointments so she would learn to think before reacting. He taught her to be calm and strong. This was hard for him too, because he had to watch her struggle without showing his own feelings.

En/Pt Emily looked like her mother. She had the same beautiful shape, delicate features, and blue eyes full of sweetness. But her lovely face became even more charming when she showed her feelings in conversation.

En/Pt Those softer colors that shy away from careless eyes, and fade away in the world’s busy and harmful company.

En/Pt St. Aubert took great care in teaching Emily. He gave her a broad knowledge of science and a full understanding of fine literature. He taught her Latin and English, mainly so she could read the greatness of the best poets. Even as a child, she loved works of genius. St. Aubert believed, and also felt, that every harmless source of happiness should be encouraged. He often said, “A well-informed mind is the best protection against foolishness and vice. An empty mind is always looking for relief, and is ready to make mistakes just to escape boredom. Fill it with ideas, and teach it the joy of thinking. Then the temptations outside us will be balanced by the pleasures within us. Thought and learning are needed for both country and city life. In the country, they help us avoid the discomfort of laziness and give us a deep joy in beauty and greatness. In the city, they make constant pleasure-seeking less necessary, and therefore less tempting.”

En/Pt One of Emily's earliest pleasures was to walk among the scenes of nature. She did not delight most in the soft, glowing landscape. She loved the wild wood-walks beside the mountain even more. Most of all, she loved the mountain's huge, hidden recesses. There the silence and grandeur of solitude filled her heart with a sacred awe. They lifted her thoughts to the GOD OF HEAVEN AND EARTH. In such places she often lingered, wrapped in a melancholy charm, until the last gleam of day faded in the west. Then only a lonely sheep-bell or a distant watch-dog's bark broke the evening stillness. The gloom of the woods, the leaves trembling now and then in the breeze, the bat flitting in the twilight, and the cottage-lights now seen and now lost - all these stirred her mind into effort and led her to enthusiasm and poetry.

En/Pt Her favorite walk was to a small fishing house in a woody valley by a stream. The stream came from the Pyrenees, foamed among rocks, and then flowed quietly under the trees. Above the woods were the high peaks of the Pyrenees, sometimes seen through the trees. She could see a broken rock face with wild shrubs, or a shepherd's hut on a cliff under dark cypress or ash trees. From the deep woods, the view opened to the distant landscape. There, the rich fields and vine-covered slopes of Gascony went down to the plains. On the winding shores of the Garonne river, there were groves, hamlets, and villas. They looked soft and blended together in one rich harmony.

En/Pt This was also St. Aubert’s favorite retreat. He often went there in the heat of the day with his wife, his daughter, and his books. He also came in the soft evening to enjoy the quiet dusk or listen for the nightingale’s song. Sometimes he brought his own music and played his oboe, waking the little echoes with its tender sound. Often Emily’s voice, too, gave sweetness to the waves as it floated over them.

En/Pt On one of these walks to that place, she noticed these lines written in pencil on part of the wall panels:

En/Pt Go, pencil, and stay true to your master's feelings! Go and tell the fairy goddess, when she walks again through these green woods, where all his tears and gentle sorrow come from. Show her face, her bright eyes, her sweet thoughtful look, and her quick, lively smile. A lover's voice can tell all this heart feels and wants to say. Yet not all that heart feels is joy. How often do soft flower petals hide a poison that can steal life away! And who, looking at that angel smile, would fear its charm or think it could deceive?

En/Pt These lines were not written to any person. Emily could not think they were for her, though she was undoubtedly the nymph of these shades. She looked at her friends but did not know who the lines were for. She was uncertain. But she had no time to think about it. The little excitement passed. She forgot about it among her books, studies, and helping others.

En/Pt Soon after this, Emily became worried when her father fell ill with a fever. It was not thought to be dangerous, but it badly weakened him. Madame St. Aubert and Emily cared for him all the time. Still, he got better very slowly. And as he grew stronger, Madame St. Aubert seemed to grow weaker.

En/Pt When he was well enough to go outside, the first place he visited was his favourite fishing-house. Food was sent there, along with books and Emily's lute. He had no need for fishing tools, because he never liked hurting or killing living things for fun.

En/Pt After about an hour of studying plants, they had dinner. They were happy to be there again. Monsieur St. Aubert talked cheerfully. Everything looked beautiful. The joy of seeing nature after being sick is hard to describe for healthy people. The green woods, flowers, sky, air, stream, and insects make life wonderful.

En/Pt Madame St. Aubert felt better because her husband was happy and healthy. She walked with them and looked at them with love, crying. St. Aubert saw this and told her not to be emotional. She smiled and cried more. He felt sad thinking that maybe one day he would look back at these happy times with regret. But he tried not to think about that.

En/Pt To change his mood, he asked Emily to play the lute. As she got near the fishing-house, she heard music. She listened silently, afraid to move. Everything was quiet. She did not see anyone. She felt surprised, then delighted, then scared because she remembered the written lines she saw before. She did not know if she should go forward or go back.

En/Pt While she waited, the music stopped. She went into the fishing-house slowly and found it empty. Her lute was on the table. She thought she heard another instrument but remembered she left her lute on the window seat. She felt scared. The evening and silence made her more afraid. She wanted to leave but felt faint. She sat down. She saw the lines on the wall again and was shocked. She tried to calm down and went to the window. She saw more lines with her name.

En/Pt Now she no longer doubted that the lines were meant for her, but she still did not know who had written them. As she thought about this, she believed she heard footsteps outside. Frightened again, she picked up her lute and hurried away. She found Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert on a small path along the side of the valley.

En/Pt They reached a green hilltop shaded by palm trees, with views over the valleys and plains of Gascony. They sat on the grass and looked out over the beautiful scene, breathing in the sweet scent of flowers and herbs growing in the turf. Emily then played and sang several of their favorite songs with the soft and careful feeling in which she was so skilled.

En/Pt Music and conversation kept them in this lovely place until the last light of the sun lay on the plains. The white sails below the mountains on the Garonne grew dim, and evening shadows covered the land. The scene was sad, but still pleasant. St. Aubert and his family rose and left with regret. Sadly, Madame St. Aubert did not know she was leaving it forever.

En/Pt When they arrived at the fishing house, she noticed her bracelet was missing. She remembered taking it off after dinner and leaving it on the table. They searched for a long time, and Emily helped a lot, but finally she accepted that it was lost. The bracelet was valuable because it had a small picture of her daughter, which looked very like her, painted a few months ago. When Emily was sure it was gone, she blushed and became thoughtful. She had already seen that someone had been in the fishing house during her absence because her lute and some pencil lines were there. The lines suggested that the same person wrote the poem, played the music, and took the bracelet. Although all these events were very strange, she did not want to talk about them. She decided she would never go to the fishing house again without her parents.

En/Pt They returned thoughtfully to the chateau. Emily was thinking about what happened. St. Aubert felt grateful for his blessings. Madame St. Aubert was upset about losing the picture. As they came near the house, they saw a lot of activity. They heard voices, saw servants and horses, and then a carriage. A landau with tired horses was on the lawn. St. Aubert saw his brother-in-law's servants. In the living room, they found Monsieur and Madame Quesnel already there. They had left Paris a few days ago and were going to their estate, which was only ten leagues from La Vallee. Monsieur Quesnel had bought that land from St. Aubert. He was Madame St. Aubert's only brother, but they were not close because they had very different personalities. M. Quesnel liked the world and wanted to be important. He thought St. Aubert was weak and narrow-minded. He had wanted his sister to marry someone rich and important to help him. But his sister married St. Aubert instead. Monsieur Quesnel showed he did not respect their marriage. Madame St. Aubert felt angry but hid it, and after that she was always a little cool towards him.

En/Pt In his own marriage, he did not follow his sister's example. His wife was an Italian heiress, and by nature and education she was vain and foolish.

En/Pt They decided to stay the night at St. Aubert's. The chateau was not big enough for all the servants, so they were sent to a nearby village. After saying hello and making plans for the night, Monsieur Quesnel started to talk about his knowledge and important friends. St. Aubert listened politely, and Quesnel thought he was impressed. Quesnel described the parties at the court of Henry the Third, and then talked about the Duke de Joyeuse and a secret treaty. But St. Aubert knew from his own experience that Quesnel was not really a very important politician. He did not answer because he knew Quesnel was not kind or wise.

En/Pt Meanwhile, Madame Quesnel was telling Madame St. Aubert how surprised she was that she could live in such a faraway place. She described the beautiful balls and parties at the court for the wedding of the Duke de Joyeuse. Emily listened with great curiosity, and her imagination made the scenes even more wonderful. But Madame St. Aubert felt a tear come to her eye and thought that although luxury can make happiness nicer, only being good can truly give happiness.

En/Pt “It’s been twelve years since I bought your family’s land,” said Monsieur Quesnel. “About that long,” replied St. Aubert with a quiet sigh. “I haven’t been there for almost five years,” said Quesnel. “Paris is the only place to live. I am very busy with politics and important matters, so it’s hard for me to leave even for a month or two.” St. Aubert was silent. Quesnel continued: “I often wonder how you, who used to live in Paris and be around people, can live in such a faraway place. You don’t see or hear anything. You can hardly feel alive.”

En/Pt "I live for my family and myself," said St. Aubert. "I am content now with knowing happiness. In the past, I knew life."

En/Pt “I plan to spend thirty or forty thousand livres on improvements,” said Monsieur Quesnel, ignoring St. Aubert’s words. “Next summer I want to bring my friends the Duke de Durefort and the Marquis Ramont to stay with me for a month or two.” When St. Aubert asked about the improvements, Quesnel said he would tear down the east wing and build stables there. Then he would build a dining room, a sitting room, a common room, and many rooms for servants. “Right now there isn’t space for even a third of my staff.”

En/Pt "It held our father's household," said St. Aubert sadly, "and that was not a small one."

En/Pt "Our ideas have grown larger since those days," said M. Quesnel. "What people once called a proper way of living would not be accepted now." Even the calm St. Aubert blushed at this, but his anger soon turned to contempt. "The ground around the chateau is crowded with trees. I mean to cut some of them down."

En/Pt "Cut down the trees too!" said St. Aubert.

En/Pt "Certainly. Why shouldn't I? They block my view. There is a chestnut tree that spreads its branches across the whole south side of the chateau. It is so old that they tell me its hollow trunk can hold a dozen men. Your love for old things will hardly argue that this dry old tree has any use or beauty."

En/Pt "Good God!" cried St. Aubert. "Surely you will not destroy that noble chestnut! It has flourished for centuries and is the glory of the estate. It was already full-grown when the present mansion was built. In my youth, how often I climbed among its broad branches! I sat hidden in a world of leaves while the heavy shower pattered above, and not one raindrop reached me. How often I sat there with a book in my hand. Sometimes I read, and sometimes I looked out between the branches at the wide landscape and the setting sun. I stayed until twilight came and brought the birds home to their little nests among the leaves. How often - but forgive me," added St. Aubert, remembering that he spoke to a man who could neither understand nor allow his feelings. "I am talking of times and feelings as old-fashioned as the taste that would spare that venerable tree."

En/Pt "It will certainly come down," said M. Quesnel. "I think I shall plant Lombardy poplars among the chestnut trees I leave in the avenue. Madame Quesnel likes the poplar very much, and says it makes her uncle's villa near Venice look beautiful."

En/Pt "On the banks of the Brenta, indeed," continued St. Aubert, "its tall, spiry shape is mixed with the pine and the cypress. There it plays over light and elegant porticos and colonnades, and it certainly adorns the scene. But among the giants of the forest, and near a heavy Gothic mansion - "

En/Pt "Well, my good sir," said M. Quesnel, "I will not argue with you. You must return to Paris before our ideas can agree at all. But speaking of Venice, I am thinking of going there next summer. Events may call me to take ownership of that same villa, which they tell me is the most charming one can imagine. In that case, I will leave the improvements I mentioned for another year, and I may be tempted to stay some time in Italy."

En/Pt Emily was somewhat surprised to hear him talk of being tempted to stay abroad. Earlier he had said his presence in Paris was so necessary that he could hardly steal away for a month or two. But St. Aubert knew the man's self-importance too well to wonder at this trait. And the chance that these planned improvements might be delayed gave him hope that they might never take place.

En/Pt Before they separated for the night, M. Quesnel asked to speak with St. Aubert alone. They went into another room and stayed there a long time. No one knew what they discussed. But when St. Aubert returned to the supper-room, he seemed much disturbed. A shade of sorrow sometimes fell on his face and alarmed Madame St. Aubert. When they were alone, she was tempted to ask the reason. But a delicacy of mind, such as had always shown in his conduct, restrained her. She thought that if St. Aubert wished her to know his trouble, he would not wait for her to ask.

En/Pt The next day, before M. Quesnel left, he spoke with St. Aubert a second time.

En/Pt After dining at the chateau, the guests left in the cool of the day for Epourville. They urged St. Aubert and Madame St. Aubert to visit them, but this came more from pride in their wealth and fine things than from true kindness.

En/Pt Emily was happy to return to her freedom after their visit ended. She went back to her books, her walks, and the wise conversation of M. and Madame St. Aubert. They also felt glad to be free from the restraints that pride and foolishness had placed on them.

En/Pt Madame St. Aubert said she was not feeling well and did not join their usual evening walk. So St. Aubert and Emily went out together.

En/Pt They walked toward the mountains, planning to visit some old pensioners whom St. Aubert supported from his small income. It is likely that M. Quesnel, with much more money, would not have done the same.

En/Pt St. Aubert gave his pensioners their weekly money. He listened patiently to some complaints, helped solve other troubles, and calmed everyone with his kind face and gentle smile. Then he went home through the woods.

En/Pt In the evening, many fairies come to the woods to play and dance through the summer night, as village stories say.

En/Pt St. Aubert said, 'I have always loved the evening darkness of the woods. When I was young, it made me imagine fairies and romantic scenes. Even now, I feel excited. I can walk slowly under the trees, look into the darkness, and listen to the strange sounds of the woods.'

En/Pt Emily said, 'Dear father, you describe exactly what I often feel. I thought no one else felt that way. Listen! There is a sound above the trees. Now it is quiet. Now the wind blows again. It sounds like a supernatural being - the spirit of the woods. Look! A light appears near that chestnut tree!' She pointed.

En/Pt St. Aubert said, 'You love nature but don't know a glow-worm? Come, let's walk further. We might see fairies. The glow-worm gives light, and the fairies dance and play music. Do you see anything moving there?'

En/Pt Emily laughed. She said, 'Well, since you allow such things, I can tell you I have written some poems in these woods. I almost dare to share them.'

En/Pt 'No,' replied St. Aubert. 'Leave out almost, and go on boldly. Let us hear what strange ideas have been in your mind. If she has given you one of her spells, you need not envy the fairies.'

En/Pt 'If it is strong enough to charm your judgment, sir,' said Emily, 'then, while I explain her images, I do not need to envy them. The lines move in a light, dancing rhythm, which I thought suited the subject, but I fear they are too uneven.'

En/Pt The glow-worm speaks: 'How pleasant is the green forest on a summer evening after rain! But sweeter still when the sun sets and twilight comes with fairies dancing through the woods. They dance to soft music until moonlight appears and guides them to a bower where a nightingale sings sadly. Then they stop dancing and listen to her song. They vow to protect her places from humans. When the evening star sets and the moon changes, the fairies would be cheerless without my pale light. Yet they are ungrateful! Often when a traveler is lost at night, I try to guide him, but the fairies use magic to lead him astray and leave him in the mud. I become scared and hide. But then I see the elves dancing in a ring with music. Two lovers steal away to avoid the fairy queen, who is jealous because I helped them yesterday. To punish me, she stops the music and dance if I come near. If I had the purple flower that can break her spells, I would no longer be her slave. But soon the forest vapor will wander, the moon will fade, and the fairies will be cheerless without my light.'

En/Pt Whatever St. Aubert thought of the verses, he would not spoil his daughter's pleasure by refusing to seem pleased. After he praised them, he fell into thought, and they went on in silence.

En/Pt A faint, imperfect light gave a half image to the straining eye. Woods, villages, streams, rocks, and mountain-tops that kept the light all appeared as one swimming scene, uncertain if they were really seen.

En/Pt St. Aubert continued silent until he reached the castle, where his wife had gone to her room. The weakness and sadness that had troubled her recently returned even stronger the next day. She developed a fever, and the doctor said it was the same fever St. Aubert had just recovered from. She had caught it while taking care of him. Her body was too weak to fight it, so the disease stayed hidden and caused the tiredness she felt. St. Aubert was very worried and kept the doctor in the house. He remembered a sad feeling he had when he last visited the fishing-house with his wife, and now he felt this illness would be fatal. But he hid this from her and his daughter, Emily. He tried to give her hope. The doctor said he could not be sure what would happen. Madame St. Aubert seemed to know she would die. She often looked at her family with pity and tenderness, as if she was sorry for the sorrow that awaited them. On the seventh day, she was at the crisis. The doctor's face became serious. She told him, 'Do not try to deceive me. I feel I will die soon. I am prepared for it. Do not give my family false hope. That will only make their pain worse. I will try to teach them to accept it by my example.'

En/Pt The physician was affected. He promised to obey her, and told St. Aubert rather abruptly that there was nothing to hope for. St. Aubert was not enough of a philosopher to hide his feelings at this news. But he thought how his open grief would only increase his wife's suffering. So, after some time, he managed to control himself in her presence. Emily was at first overwhelmed by the news. Then, deceived by the strength of her wishes, a hope rose in her mind that her mother would still recover. She clung to this hope stubbornly, almost to the last hour.

En/Pt During her illness, Madame St. Aubert suffered patiently and accepted her wishes could not come true. She was calm about dying because she had lived a life aware of God's presence and hoped for a better world. But she was still sad to leave the people she loved. In her last hours, she talked with her husband and Emily about the future and religion. She showed acceptance and hope that they would meet again. Sometimes she tried to hide her sadness, and this made St. Aubert so upset he had to leave the room. He would cry for a while, then dry his tears and return with a calm face that only made his sadness deeper.

En/Pt Emily had never felt so strongly how important it was to control her emotions, and she succeeded completely. But when her mother died, she suddenly felt all her sadness and realized that hope and strength had kept her going. St. Aubert was too sad to comfort her.

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul. SHAKESPEARE

En/Pt Madame St. Aubert was buried in the church of a nearby village. Her husband and daughter followed her to the grave, along with a long line of villagers who truly mourned this good woman.

En/Pt After returning from the funeral, St. Aubert locked himself in his room. When he came out, he looked calm, though he was pale with grief. He told the family to come to him. Emily was missing because she had gone to her room to cry alone after the sad scene she had seen. St. Aubert went to her, took her hand in silence, and waited until he could speak. His voice shook as he said, 'My Emily, I am going to prayers with my family; you will join us. We must ask support from above. Where else should we look for it - where else can we find it?'

En/Pt Emily stopped crying and followed her father to the parlour. The servants were there, and St. Aubert read the evening service in a low, serious voice. He also said a prayer for the dead person. While he read, his voice often broke, and tears fell on the book. At last he stopped. But his deep, pure devotion slowly lifted his thoughts above this world and gave comfort to his heart.

En/Pt After the service, the servants left. St. Aubert kissed Emily tenderly and said: 'Since you were young, I have tried to teach you to control yourself. It is very important in life. It keeps us from bad temptations. It also limits pleasures that seem good but become bad if we take too much. All excess is bad. Even sadness that starts as good can become selfish if it stops us from doing our duties. Our duties are what we owe to ourselves and others. Too much grief weakens the mind. It makes it hard to enjoy the simple pleasures that God gave us. Remember and practice what I have taught you. You know from your own experience that these lessons are wise.'

En/Pt 'Your sadness is useless. Do not think this is just a common saying. Use reason to control your sorrow. I do not want to destroy your feelings, my child. I only want to teach you to control them. A heart that is too sensitive can cause problems, but a heart that feels nothing is all bad. You know I have suffered, so you know I am not saying empty words. I cannot stand to see you waste away in useless sadness. There was a time when natural grief was right, but that time is past. If you keep giving in to sadness, it will become a habit that is very hard to break. You, my Emily, will show that you are willing to avoid that.'

En/Pt Emily smiled through her tears at her father. 'Dear sir,' she said, her voice shaking. She wanted to add, 'I will show myself worthy of being your daughter,' but gratitude, love, and grief all came over her at once. St. Aubert let her cry without stopping her, and then he began to speak about ordinary things.

En/Pt The first person to come and comfort St. Aubert was M. Barreaux, a stern man who seemed cold and unfeeling. They had met because both liked botany, and they often saw each other while walking in the mountains. M. Barreaux had left public life and almost all company to live in a pleasant chateau near the woods, close to La Vallee. He too had been disappointed in people, but unlike St. Aubert, he did not pity or grieve for them. He felt more anger at their bad actions than kindness for their weak points.

En/Pt St. Aubert was surprised to see him. He had often asked him to visit, but he never came. Now he came without formality, entering the room like an old friend. It seemed that trouble had softened his rough nature. He thought only of St. Aubert's unhappiness. He showed his sympathy more through his actions than his words. He did not say much about their grief, but his careful attention, gentle voice, and kind look came from his heart and touched theirs.

En/Pt During this sad time, St. Aubert also received a visit from Madame Cheron, his only living sister. She had been a widow for many years and lived on her own land near Tholouse. They did not see each other often. When she offered her sympathy, she had many words. She did not understand the power of a look or a gentle voice. But she told St. Aubert that she truly felt for him, praised his late wife, and then gave what she thought was comfort. Emily cried all the time while she spoke. St. Aubert was calm, listened silently, and then changed the subject.

En/Pt When she left, she asked him and Emily to visit her soon. She said, 'A change of place will cheer you up. You should not give in to sadness.' St. Aubert agreed with her words, but he felt even more unwilling to leave the place where he had been happy with his wife. His wife's presence had made every scene special. Each day, as his pain slowly lessened, his love for home grew stronger.

En/Pt But there were visits he had to make. One was to his brother-in-law, M. Quesnel. Something important made it necessary to go soon. He also wanted to help Emily feel better, so he took her with him to Epourville.

En/Pt As the carriage entered the forest next to his family's land, he saw the castle again. He felt sad thinking about what happened since he was last there. Now it belonged to a man who did not care about it. He went into the avenue of trees that had made him happy as a boy. The dark shade now matched his sad feelings. He could see parts of the building between the trees: the wide tower, the arched gate to the courts, the drawbridge, and the dry ditch around it.

En/Pt The sound of the carriage brought many servants to the great gate. There St. Aubert got down and led Emily into the gothic hall. It was no longer decorated with the family arms and old banners. They had been taken down, and the oak walls and roof beams were painted white. The long table that had once stood at the upper end of the hall was gone, and so were the benches. The walls were covered with showy decorations, and everything showed the poor taste and bad values of the present owner.

En/Pt St. Aubert followed a cheerful Parisian servant to a sitting room, where Mons. and Madame Quesnel were waiting. They welcomed him with formal politeness. After a few words of sympathy, they seemed to have forgotten that they had ever had a sister.

En/Pt Emily felt tears rise in her eyes, but anger stopped them. St. Aubert stayed calm and careful. He kept his dignity without trying to seem important, and Quesnel felt uneasy in his presence, though he did not know why.

En/Pt After some general talk, St. Aubert asked to speak with him alone. Emily stayed with Madame Quesnel and soon learned that a large group was invited to dine at the chateau. She also had to listen to the claim that nothing past and unchangeable should spoil the joy of the present evening.

En/Pt When St. Aubert heard about the party, he felt angry and disgusted. He wanted to go home. But he was told that Madame Cheron was invited to see him. He looked at Emily and thought that one day her uncle might hurt her. So he decided not to make him angry by leaving.

En/Pt Among the guests at dinner were two Italian gentlemen. One was Montoni, a distant relation of Madame Quesnel. He was about forty, very handsome, and had strong, expressive features. His face showed, above all, the pride of a commander and the quick mind of a man who judges things fast.

En/Pt Signor Cavigni, his friend, seemed to be about thirty. He was less grand than Montoni, but his face was just as sharp, and his manner was even more smooth and charming.

En/Pt Emily was shocked by the way Madame Cheron greeted her father: 'Dear brother,' she said. 'I am sorry to see that you look so ill. Please, get advice!' St. Aubert answered with a sad smile that he felt about the same as usual. But Emily's fear now made her think that her father looked worse than he really did.

En/Pt Emily might have enjoyed the new people she saw and the lively talk at dinner, which was served with great splendor, if she had not felt so upset. Signor Montoni had just come from Italy. He spoke strongly about the unrest there, argued warmly about political differences, and then spoke sadly about the likely results of the troubles. His friend also spoke with passion about politics. He praised the government and wealth of Venice and said it was better than all the other Italian states. Then he turned to the ladies and spoke with equal skill about Paris fashion, the French opera, and French manners. He also mixed in the kind of flattery that French taste likes best. The women did not notice it, though he saw that it made them listen closely. When he could leave the other ladies, he sometimes spoke to Emily. But she knew nothing about Paris fashion or opera, and her modest, simple, and proper manners were very different from those of the other women.

En/Pt After dinner, St. Aubert went out of the room to look again at the old chestnut tree that Quesnel wanted to cut down. He stood in its shade and looked up through its rich branches, where pieces of blue sky showed between them. As he did this, memories of his early life came back to him. He thought of friends who were long dead. He now felt almost alone in the world, with only Emily to turn to with his heart.

En/Pt He stood there, lost in thoughts of past years, until the memory ended with a picture of his dying wife. Then he quickly moved away, hoping to forget it at the dinner table.

En/Pt St. Aubert left early in his carriage, and Emily saw that he was more silent and sad than usual on the way home. She thought this was only because of the visit to a place that brought back old memories. She did not know that he had a hidden sorrow.

En/Pt When she entered the chateau, she felt even more unhappy. She missed her dear parent more than ever. When she came home before, her parent had always welcomed her with smiles and love. Now everything was quiet and empty.

En/Pt But time can do what reason and effort cannot. Week after week passed, and each one lessened her pain a little, until it became the gentle sorrow that a loving heart keeps as something sacred. St. Aubert, however, grew weaker in health. Emily, who was always with him, was almost the last to notice it. His body had never fully recovered from the fever, and the shock of Madame St. Aubert's death had made him worse. Now his doctor told him to travel, because sorrow had affected his nerves, already weakened by illness. A change of scene might help by distracting his mind and restoring his strength.

En/Pt For some days, Emily was busy getting ready to travel with him. St. Aubert also tried to cut down the cost of the journey, and at last he decided to dismiss his servants. Emily usually did not question her father's wishes, or she would have asked why he would not take a servant, since his poor health made one almost necessary. But on the night before they left, she found that he had sent away Jacques, Francis, and Mary, and had kept only Theresa, the old housekeeper. She was very surprised and asked why he had done it. 'To save money, my dear,' he said. 'We are going on an expensive trip.'

En/Pt The doctor had told him to travel in the air of Languedoc and Provence. So St. Aubert decided to go slowly along the coast of the Mediterranean toward Provence.

En/Pt They went to bed early the night before leaving. But Emily still had some books and other things to pack, and it was past midnight before she finished. Then she remembered that some of her drawing tools, which she meant to take, were downstairs in the parlour. As she went to get them, she passed her father's room. The door was half open, so she thought he was in his study. Since Madame St. Aubert had died, it had often been his habit to leave his restless bed and go there to calm his mind. Emily looked in downstairs, but he was not there. When she returned to her room, she knocked at his door. Getting no answer, she quietly went in to see whether he was inside.

En/Pt The room was dark, but some light came through the glass panes in the upper part of a closet door. Emily thought her father must be in the closet. She was surprised that he was awake so late and thought he might be ill. She wanted to ask him, but she did not want to frighten him by appearing suddenly. So she moved her light to the stairs and then went softly to the closet. Looking through the glass, she saw him sitting at a small table with papers before him. He read them very carefully and often cried and sobbed aloud. Emily had come to check whether he was ill, but now she stayed there, both curious and tender-hearted. She thought the papers might be letters from her dead mother. Soon he knelt down and prayed in silence for a long time. His face looked solemn, and Emily had seldom seen him with such a wild, fearful expression.

En/Pt When he stood up, his face was very pale. Emily was about to leave quickly, but then she saw him turn back to the papers, so she stopped. He took a small case from among them and from it a miniature picture. The light fell on it, and she saw that it was the picture of a lady, but not of her mother.

En/Pt St. Aubert looked at his portrait with deep feeling. He kissed it, then pressed it to his heart, and sighed hard. Emily could hardly believe what she saw. Until now, she had never known that he had a picture of any lady other than her mother. She was even more surprised that he valued it so much. After looking at it again and again, to make sure it was not Madame St. Aubert, she became fully sure that it was the picture of someone else.

En/Pt At last St. Aubert put the picture back in its case. Emily then remembered that she was upsetting his private sorrow, so she quietly left the room.

Chapter III

En/Pt How can you give up the endless store of charms that nature gives to those who love her? Think of the singing woodland and the echoing shore. Think of the splendour of the groves and the beauty of the fields. Think of all that the morning ray gilds, and all that answers the song of evening. Think of all that the mountain shelters in its bosom, and all the dread magnificence of heaven. How can you give them up and still hope to be forgiven? These charms will bring your soul eternal health. They will give you love, and gentleness, and joy. THE MINSTREL

En/Pt St. Aubert did not take the shorter road along the base of the Pyrenees to Languedoc. Instead, he chose a road that climbed over the heights and gave wider views and more beautiful mountain scenery. He also went a little out of his way to visit M. Barreaux. He found him in the wood near his chateau, looking at plants. When M. Barreaux heard why St. Aubert had come, he showed more concern than St. Aubert had thought he would. They said goodbye with real sadness.

En/Pt "If anything could have made me leave my quiet life," said M. Barreaux, "it would have been the pleasure of going with you on this short journey. I do not often give praise, so you may believe me when I say that I shall wait for your return with great impatience."

En/Pt The travelers continued on their journey. As they climbed the heights, St. Aubert often looked back at the chateau in the valley below. Many tender memories filled his mind. In his sad imagination, he thought he might never return. He tried to stop this thought, but he still kept looking back until the distance became hazy and his home was blended into the whole landscape, and St. Aubert seemed to

En/Pt be drawn farther away at each step, like a chain growing longer and longer.

En/Pt He and Emily stayed lost in quiet thought for several miles. Emily was the first to wake from her sad reverie, and the grand sights around her slowly brought her pleasure. The road went down into deep valleys, shut in by huge rock walls, grey and bare except for shrubs on top and thin plants in the lower parts, where wild goats often fed. Then the road led to high cliffs, where the whole landscape could be seen in all its greatness.

En/Pt Emily could not hold back her joy as she looked from the pine forests on the mountains to the wide plains below. There were woods, towns, red vineyards, and farms of almonds, palms, and olives. Their colors faded together in the distance into one soft shade, as if earth and heaven were joined. Through this wonderful scene flowed the great Garonne, coming down from the Pyrenees and winding its blue waters toward the Bay of Biscay.

En/Pt The rough road, which few people used, often forced the travelers to get out of their small carriage. But they felt that the grand views fully made up for this trouble. While the muleteer slowly led the animals over the broken ground, they had time to stop in these lonely places and think deeply. Such thoughts can calm the heart while they lift it up, and give it the strong feeling that God is present now. Still, St. Aubert felt a sad tenderness that gave everything a softer color and made all around him seem more sacred.

En/Pt They had already planned for some of the trouble caused by the lack of good inns. They carried food in the carriage, so they could rest and eat outdoors in a pleasant place and sleep wherever they found a comfortable cottage. They also had something for the mind: a book on botany by M. Barreaux and several Latin and Italian poets. Emily also had her pencil, which let her keep some of the shapes and scenes that pleased her at every step.

En/Pt The road was lonely. Only now and then they saw a peasant driving a mule, or mountain children playing among the rocks. This made the scenery seem even more beautiful. St. Aubert was so impressed that he decided to go farther into the mountains if he could find a road. He wanted to turn more south and then come out into Rousillon, and travel along the Mediterranean part of the country toward Languedoc.

En/Pt Soon after midday, they reached the top of a cliff. Palm trees grew there and made the place bright and green, like jewels on the great walls of the rocks. From there they could see most of Gascony and part of Languedoc. There was shade and fresh water from a spring. It moved through the grass under the trees, then fell from rock to rock until its sounds were lost in the deep valley below. Still, its white foam could be seen for a long time among the dark pine trees.

En/Pt It was a good place to rest, so the travelers got down from the carriage to eat their dinner. The mules were unharnessed so they could eat the herbs that grew on the top of the cliff.

En/Pt It took some time before St. Aubert and Emily could stop looking at the land around them and begin their meal. Sitting in the shade of the palms, St. Aubert showed Emily the path of the rivers, the places of large towns, and the borders of provinces. He knew these things more by learning than by sight. After speaking for a while, he became quiet and thoughtful. Tears often filled his eyes, and Emily saw them and understood why. This place reminded them of a favorite view of the late Madame St. Aubert near the fishing-house, though this one was much grander. They both thought how happy she would have been here, and also how her eyes would never open on this world again. St. Aubert remembered the last time he had been there with her, and the sad thoughts he had then. Now those thoughts had come true very soon. The memory overcame him, and he suddenly got up and walked away so no one could see his sorrow.

En/Pt When he came back, his face was calm again. He took Emily's hand and pressed it kindly without speaking. Then he called to the muleteer, who was sitting a little away, and asked about a road through the mountains toward Rousillon. Michael said there were several roads that way, but he did not know how far they went or whether they were safe. St. Aubert did not want to travel after sunset, so he asked what village they could reach by that time. The muleteer said they could easily reach Mateau, which was on their present road. But if they took a road farther south toward Rousillon, there was a small hamlet they might reach before nightfall.

En/Pt After some hesitation, St. Aubert chose the second road. Michael finished his meal, harnessed the mules again, and set off. Soon he stopped, and St. Aubert saw him bowing to a cross on a rock above their path. After his prayer, he cracked his whip and drove on at full speed, despite the rough road and the pain of his poor mules, which he had just been pitying. He rushed along the edge of a cliff so steep that it made Emily dizzy to look down. She was so frightened that she almost fainted. St. Aubert feared that stopping the driver suddenly would be even more dangerous, so he had to sit still and trust the mules, whose judgement seemed better than their master's. They carried the travelers safely into the valley and stopped by the stream that watered it.

En/Pt Leaving the wide views behind, they now entered a narrow valley, hidden by

Rocks piled on rocks as if by magic, some scorched by lightning, others covered with green ivy.

En/Pt The bare scene was broken here and there by wide branches of larch and cedar trees, which cast darkness over the cliff or across the torrent in the valley. No living creature could be seen except the izard, which climbed among the rocks and often stood on such dangerous points that even the imagination drew back from them. It was the kind of place SALVATOR would have chosen for a painting, if he had been alive. St. Aubert felt the wild beauty of the place so strongly that he almost expected banditti to jump out from behind some rock. He kept his hand on the weapons he always carried with him.

En/Pt As they went on, the valley slowly opened out. Its wild look became softer. By evening, they were among heath-covered mountains far ahead. They heard a lonely sheep-bell and the shepherd calling his sheep to the night pen. His cabin was partly hidden by a cork-tree and an ilex. St. Aubert noticed that these trees grew higher in the air than any others except the fir. It was the only human home they could see. At the bottom of the valley, the grass was very green. In the small hollows between the mountains, under oak and chestnut trees, cattle were grazing. Many were also resting by the stream, or cooling their sides in the water and drinking from it.

En/Pt The sun was setting over the valley. Its last light shone on the water and made the yellow and purple colors of the heath and broom look brighter. St. Aubert asked Michael how far it was to the hamlet he had mentioned, but the man could not say for sure. Emily began to fear that he had taken the wrong road. There was no one there to help or guide them. They had left the shepherd and his cabin far behind. Darkness was falling, and they could no longer see far along the valley to look for a cottage or a hamlet. The west still glowed a little, and that helped them somewhat. Michael seemed to try to stay brave by singing. But his song was very sad. He sang it like a chant, and St. Aubert finally saw that it was an evening hymn to Michael's favorite saint.

En/Pt They rode on in the quiet sadness that twilight and loneliness bring. Michael had finished his song, and now they heard only the soft sound of the breeze in the woods and its light flutter as it blew into the carriage. At last, they were startled by the sound of gunfire. St. Aubert told the muleteer to stop, and they listened. The sound did not come again. Soon after, they heard movement in the bushes. St. Aubert took out a pistol and told Michael to go on as fast as he could. Not long after, a horn sounded and echoed through the mountains. St. Aubert looked out again and saw a young man jump from the bushes into the road, followed by two dogs. The stranger wore hunter's clothes. His gun hung over his shoulders, his horn was on his belt, and he carried a small spear in his hand. He looked strong and graceful, and he moved quickly.

En/Pt After a short hesitation, St. Aubert stopped the carriage again and waited for the man to come closer so they could ask about the hamlet they were looking for. The stranger told him it was only half a league away. He was going there himself and would gladly show the way. St. Aubert thanked him, and pleased by his open face and noble manner, invited him to sit in the carriage. The stranger politely refused and said he would keep pace with the mules. Then he added, 'But I fear you will find poor comfort there. The people in these mountains live simply. They do not have the luxuries of life, and they lack almost even the things others think are necessary.'

En/Pt 'I see you are not one of the people who live here, sir,' said St. Aubert.

'No, sir. I am just a wanderer here.'

En/Pt The carriage moved on, and the growing darkness made the travelers glad to have a guide. The many valleys between the mountains also made the way harder to follow. Looking up one of these valleys, Emily saw something far away that looked like a bright cloud in the sky. 'What light is that, sir?' she asked.

En/Pt St. Aubert looked and saw that it was the snowy top of a mountain. It stood much higher than the others around it, so it still caught the sun's rays while the lower mountains were already in deep shade.

En/Pt At last, village lights began to shine through the dusk. Soon after, they saw cottages in the valley. In fact, they noticed them first by their reflection in the stream beside which they stood, and the evening light still gleamed on the water.

En/Pt The stranger came up to them, and after asking more questions, St. Aubert learned that there was not only no inn in the village, but no public house at all. Still, the stranger offered to go on ahead and ask for a cottage where they could stay. St. Aubert thanked him again. Since the village was so near, he said he would get down and walk with him. Emily followed slowly in the carriage.

En/Pt On the way, St. Aubert asked his companion about his success in the hunt. 'Not much, sir,' he replied. 'I don't aim for it. I like the countryside and want to spend a few weeks walking around its scenes. I take my dogs for company, not for game. Also, this dress gives me a reason to be here and makes people respect me. A lonely stranger with no visible reason would not get that respect.'

En/Pt St. Aubert said, 'I admire your taste. If I were younger, I would love to spend a few weeks like you. I am also a wanderer, but my plan and interests are different. I travel for health as well as for fun.' He sighed and paused, then continued: 'If I can find a good road with decent places to stay, I plan to go into Rousillon and along the coast to Languedoc. You seem to know the country. Can you give me information?'

En/Pt The stranger said he was glad to help. He then told St. Aubert about a road farther east that led to a town. From there, it would be easy to continue into Rousillon.

En/Pt They reached the village and began looking for a cottage where they could stay for the night. In several cottages they entered, they found poor people who seemed both cheerful and ignorant. The owners looked at St. Aubert with curiosity and fear. They could find no bed, and he had nearly stopped asking for one when Emily came to him. She saw how tired her father looked and was sorry that he had chosen a road with so few comforts for a sick man. Other cottages were a little better, but still very rough. They had only two rooms, if they could be called rooms. In one were mules and pigs. In the other lived the family, often six or eight children with their parents, sleeping on skins and dry beech leaves on a mud floor. Light and smoke came through a hole in the roof, and the smell of spirits was often in the air, because smugglers had taught these people to drink. Emily turned away from such sights and looked at her father with worry and love. The young stranger noticed this. He drew St. Aubert aside and offered him his own bed. He said it was decent compared with what they had just seen, though in other circumstances he would have been ashamed to offer it. St. Aubert thanked him warmly but refused at first. The stranger would not accept that. He begged him not to let a sick man sleep on hard skins while he himself slept in a bed. He also said that refusal hurt his pride, because it made him think his offer was not good enough. He offered to show them the way and said his landlady could surely make room for Emily too.

En/Pt At last St. Aubert agreed, if this could be arranged, to accept the stranger's kindness. He was surprised, however, that the stranger seemed so unromantic, since he had offered the room to an ill man rather than to a beautiful young woman. He had not once offered it for Emily. But Emily did not think of herself. Her bright smile showed how grateful she was that her father had been chosen first.

En/Pt On the way, the stranger, whose name was Valancourt, went ahead to speak to the hostess. She came out and welcomed St. Aubert to a cottage that was much better than any he had seen. The kind woman was happy to house the travelers, and they soon had to take the only two beds in the place. Eggs and milk were the only food she had, but St. Aubert had brought other food for such a shortage. He asked Valancourt to stay and share a better meal with him, and Valancourt agreed at once. They then spent an hour in thoughtful conversation. St. Aubert was very pleased by Valancourt's open honesty, simple manner, and strong feeling for the beauty of nature. He had often said that true love of nature could not exist in a strong way without a simple heart.

En/Pt Their talk was broken by a loud quarrel outside, and the muleteer's voice could be heard above the rest. Valancourt jumped up and went to see what was happening, but the argument went on so long that St. Aubert went out himself. He found Michael arguing with the hostess because she had refused to let his mules sleep in a small room where he and three of her sons were to spend the night. The room was very poor, but there was nowhere else for them to sleep. Still, the woman refused to let the animals share the same bedroom with her children. This greatly offended the muleteer. He felt his honor was hurt because his mules were not treated with respect. He said his beasts were as honest and as good as any in the province and had a right to good treatment wherever they went. He called them harmless as lambs unless people insulted them. He said they had only misbehaved once or twice in his life, and even then they had good reason. Once they had kicked a sleeping boy in the stable and broken his leg. He told them they were wrong, and, by St. Anthony, he believed they understood him, because they never did it again.

En/Pt He ended his long speech by saying that they should share his shelter wherever he went.

En/Pt At last Valancourt settled the argument. He took the hostess aside and asked her to let the muleteer and his animals have the room to themselves. He said her sons could use the bed of skins meant for him, and he would wrap himself in his cloak and sleep on the bench by the cottage door. She wanted to refuse, both because she thought it her duty and because she disliked the muleteer. But Valancourt stayed firm, and in the end the tiring matter was settled.

En/Pt It was late when St. Aubert and Emily went to their rooms, and Valancourt took his place at the door. In the soft weather, he preferred that to a closed cabin and a bed of skins. St. Aubert was surprised to find books of Homer, Horace, and Petrarch in his room. The name Valancourt written in them showed that they were his.

Chapter IV

En/Pt He was a strange and changeable person. He liked both gentle and scary scenes. He enjoyed darkness and storms. He also liked calm seas with sunshine. Sad changes amused him. If a sigh or tear came, it was so sweet he did not want to stop it. THE MINSTREL

En/Pt St. Aubert woke early, feeling rested and ready to move on. He asked the stranger to breakfast with him. They talked again about the road. Valancourt said that some months earlier he had gone as far as Beaujeu, a fairly important town on the road to Rousillon. He advised St. Aubert to take that route, and St. Aubert decided to do so.

En/Pt Valancourt said, 'The road from this hamlet and the road to Beaujeu separate about a league and a half from here. If you allow me, I will guide your muleteer that far. I must wander somewhere, and your company would make this walk more pleasant than any other I could take.'

En/Pt St. Aubert thanked him and accepted. They set out together, with the young stranger walking on foot, because he refused St. Aubert's invitation to ride in the small carriage.

En/Pt The road curved along the foot of the mountains through a peaceful valley full of green plants. It was beautiful with small groups of oak, beech, and sycamore trees, and cattle rested under their branches. Rowans and weeping birches also spread their hanging leaves over the slopes above, where the thin soil barely covered their roots and their light branches moved in every mountain breeze.

En/Pt The travellers often met shepherds at this early hour, before the sun had risen over the valley, driving huge flocks from their folds to feed on the hills. St. Aubert had left so early not only to see the sunrise, but also to breathe the fresh morning air, which is very good for a sick person. This was even more true in these places, where many wild flowers and sweet herbs filled the air with their scent.

En/Pt Dawn had softened the scene with its grey light, but now it faded away. Emily watched the day begin, first trembling on the tops of the highest cliffs, then shining brightly on them while the sides and the valley below were still covered in mist. The eastern clouds changed from dull grey to red, then to a rich glow, until golden light spread through the air, touched the lower mountain slopes, and fell in long slanting beams across the valley and its stream. It seemed as if all nature had come back to life. St. Aubert felt renewed. His heart was full, he wept, and his thoughts rose to the Great Creator.

En/Pt Emily wanted to run along the grass, which was so green and bright with dew, and to enjoy the same freedom that the izard seemed to feel as it jumped along the cliff edge. Valancourt often stopped to talk with the travellers and to point out the things he admired. St. Aubert liked him and thought, 'This is the true openness and fire of youth. This young man has never been to Paris.'

En/Pt St. Aubert was sad when they reached the place where the roads split. After such a short meeting, he felt more warmly toward Valancourt than usual. Valancourt talked for a long time beside the carriage. More than once he seemed ready to leave, but he still stayed, as if he were looking for something else to say so he could delay a little longer. At last he said goodbye. As he went away, St. Aubert saw him look earnestly and sadly at Emily. She bowed to him with a shy, sweet expression as the carriage moved on. Soon after, St. Aubert looked out the window and saw Valancourt standing on the road bank, leaning on his pike with folded arms and watching the carriage. St. Aubert waved. Valancourt seemed to wake from his thoughts, returned the greeting, and hurried away.

En/Pt The country began to change. Soon the travellers were among mountains covered almost from base to top with dark pine forests, except where a granite rock rose from the valley and lost its snowy top in the clouds. The stream that had followed them until then grew into a river. It flowed deep and silently, reflecting the black shadows above like a mirror. Now and then a cliff rose boldly above the woods and the mist hanging halfway down the mountains. At other times a steep wall of marble rose from the water, and over it the larch tree spread its huge branches, sometimes scarred by lightning, sometimes full of thick leaves.

En/Pt They kept traveling on a rough road that few people used. Now and then they saw a lonely shepherd with his dog walking in the valley. They heard only the loud rush of hidden torrents, the long sad sound of the wind in the pines, and the calls of eagles and vultures circling around the steep cliff.

En/Pt Many times, when the carriage moved slowly over the uneven road, St. Aubert got down. He liked to look at the strange plants growing beside the road, since this region had many of them. Emily, full of strong feeling, walked away under the trees and listened in silence to the lonely sounds of the woods.

En/Pt For many miles, they saw no village or hamlet. The only homes they found were the cabins of goat-herds or hunters, high among the rocky cliffs.

En/Pt The travellers ate dinner again outdoors, in a pleasant place in the valley, under the wide shade of cedar trees. Then they set off toward Beaujeu.

En/Pt The road began to go downhill, and the pine forests were left behind as it wound among rocky cliffs. Evening came again, and the travellers did not know how far they still were from Beaujeu. St. Aubert thought it could not be very far, and he took comfort in reaching a busier road after the town, where he planned to spend the night. In the dusk they could barely see woods, rocks, and heather-covered mountains, and soon even these shapes vanished in the dark. Michael drove carefully because he could hardly see the road, but his mules seemed wiser and kept sure footing.

En/Pt When they turned around a mountain, they saw a light far ahead that lit up the rocks and much of the sky. It was clearly a large fire, but they could not tell if it was accidental. St. Aubert thought it might have been made by bandits who troubled the Pyrenees, so he became watchful and worried about whether the road would pass near it. He had guns with him, but they would be poor protection against such desperate robbers. Then he heard a voice from behind shouting for the muleteer to stop. St. Aubert told him to go on as fast as possible, but Michael or the mules would not quicken their pace. Then he heard horses' feet. A man rode up and kept ordering the driver to stop. St. Aubert realized the man's purpose and managed, with difficulty, to ready a pistol. When the man reached the door of the chaise, St. Aubert fired. The man staggered on his horse, and after the shot there was a groan. St. Aubert was horrified when he thought he heard the weak voice of Valancourt. He told the muleteer to stop and called Valancourt's name. A voice answered, and he now knew it was really him. St. Aubert got down at once and went to help him. Valancourt was still on his horse, bleeding heavily and in great pain, though he tried to calm St. Aubert by saying the wound was only in his arm. With the muleteer, St. Aubert helped him dismount. He sat on the roadside bank while St. Aubert tried to bandage the arm, but his hands shook too much. Michael had gone after the horse, which had run off, so St. Aubert called Emily for help. When she did not answer, he went to the carriage and found her fainting on the seat. He was so upset by both her condition and Valancourt's wound that he hardly knew what to do. He tried to lift her and called to Michael for water from the stream beside the road, but Michael was too far away to hear. Valancourt heard the cries and Emily's name, and at once understood what had happened. Forgetting his own pain, he hurried to help her. She was waking as he reached the carriage, and when he learned that worry for him had caused her faintness, he told her in a trembling voice that his wound was not serious. Then St. Aubert saw that Valancourt was still bleeding, so he quickly made a bandage from handkerchiefs. This stopped the blood, but St. Aubert still feared the effects of the wound and kept asking how far they were from Beaujeu. When he learned it was two leagues away, he became even more troubled, because he did not know how Valancourt could bear the carriage ride and saw that he was already weak from blood loss. Valancourt begged him not to worry so much, saying he was sure he could bear it well, and he tried to speak of the accident as a small matter. The muleteer returned with Valancourt's horse and helped him into the chaise. Emily had now recovered, and they moved slowly on toward Beaujeu.

En/Pt After St. Aubert recovered from the shock, he was surprised to see Valancourt. Valancourt explained: "Sir, you made me want company again. After you left the village, it seemed very lonely. So I decided to go somewhere else for fun. I took this road because it goes through more beautiful mountains. And," he stopped for a moment, "I will tell you, why not? I hoped to catch up with you."

En/Pt 'And I have made you a very unexpected return for the compliment,' said St. Aubert. He again regretted the rash act that had caused the accident and explained why he had been so alarmed. But Valancourt seemed to care only about easing the feelings of the others. He kept fighting his pain and tried to speak cheerfully. Emily stayed silent, except when Valancourt spoke to her directly, and then his voice had a trembling sound that said much.

En/Pt They were now so close to the fire, which had long been shining against the dark night, that it lit the road and they could see figures moving around it. As the path wound nearer, they saw in the valley one of the many groups of gipsies who then lived in the Pyrenees and partly survived by robbing travellers. Emily felt some fear when she saw their wild faces by the fire. The flames gave the rocks and trees a red, dim light, while deep shadows and dark places remained that the eye did not want to enter.

En/Pt They were making supper. A large pot stood by the fire, and several people were busy around it. The fire also showed a rough tent, with many children and dogs playing nearby, and the whole scene looked strange and wild. The travellers could see that they were in danger. Valancourt said nothing, but he put his hand on one of St. Aubert's pistols. St. Aubert took out the other one, and Michael was told to go as fast as he could. But they passed the place without being attacked, likely because the group was not ready and was too busy with supper to care about anything else at that moment.

En/Pt After another league and a half in the dark, the travellers reached Beaujeu and drove to the only inn there. It was better than any place they had seen since entering the mountains, but it was still poor.

En/Pt The town surgeon was called at once, if he could be called a surgeon. He treated horses and men, and he shaved faces almost as well as he set bones. After looking at Valancourt's arm, he saw that the bullet had gone through the flesh without hitting the bone. He dressed the wound and told him to rest, but his patient did not want to do that. Valancourt felt much better now that the pain had eased. He wanted to join St. Aubert and Emily, who were cheerful because their fears were gone. But St. Aubert had to go out with the landlord to buy meat for supper. During that time Emily stayed away as long as she could by looking after their room, which was better than she had expected. In the end she had to return and speak with Valancourt alone. They talked about the country they had passed through, its natural history, poetry, and St. Aubert, a subject Emily always liked very much.

En/Pt The travellers had a pleasant evening. But St. Aubert was tired from the journey, and Valancourt seemed to feel pain again, so they separated soon after supper.

En/Pt In the morning, St. Aubert learned that Valancourt had had a bad night. He had a fever, and his wound hurt a great deal. When the surgeon changed the dressing, he advised Valancourt to stay quietly in Beaujeu. This advice was sensible, so it was accepted. St. Aubert did not trust the surgeon and wanted better care for Valancourt. But after asking around, he found there was no town within several leagues that seemed likely to have a better doctor. So he changed his travel plan and decided to wait until Valancourt recovered. Valancourt made many objections to this delay, though he did not seem fully sincere.

En/Pt By the surgeon's order, Valancourt stayed in the house that day. But St. Aubert and Emily walked around the town and enjoyed the land around it. The town lay at the foot of the Pyrenean Alps. Some mountains rose in steep cliffs, and others were covered with forests of cedar, fir, and cypress almost to their tops. The bright green of beech and mountain-ash trees sometimes shone through the dark forest like light. At other times, a rushing stream flashed high among the trees.

En/Pt Valancourt's illness kept the travellers in Beaujeu for several days. During this time, St. Aubert studied his character and talents carefully. He saw that Valancourt was frank and generous, full of energy, and deeply moved by what was grand and beautiful. But he was also quick-tempered, wild, and rather romantic. He knew little of the world. He understood things clearly and felt deeply. He spoke with strong feeling when he hated a shameful action or admired a noble one. St. Aubert sometimes smiled at his passion, but he rarely stopped him. He often thought, 'This young man has never been at Paris.' Then he would sigh. He decided not to leave Valancourt until he was fully well. Since Valancourt could now travel but could not ride his horse, St. Aubert invited him to come with them in the carriage for a few days. He agreed even more readily when he learned that Valancourt belonged to a family of the same name in Gascony, and that he knew they were respectable. Valancourt accepted with great pleasure, and they set off again through the wild country near Rousillon.

En/Pt They travelled slowly and stopped whenever they saw a scene that was especially grand. Often they got out and climbed to a high place where the mules could not go, and the view became even more magnificent. They also walked through hills covered with lavender, wild thyme, juniper, and tamarisk, and under woods where they could see long mountain views between the tree trunks. These views seemed more wonderful than Emily had ever imagined.

En/Pt St. Aubert sometimes amused himself by collecting plants while Valancourt and Emily walked on. Valancourt pointed out things that he especially liked and recited beautiful lines from Latin and Italian poets that he knew Emily admired. When they were quiet, and he thought she did not notice, he often looked at her face with deep thought. Her face showed the life and strength of her mind. When he spoke again, his voice was especially gentle, and it was hard to hide his feelings. Little by little, these silent pauses became more frequent. Emily alone seemed anxious to break them. She, who had been quiet until then, now kept talking again and again about the woods, valleys, and mountains so that there would be no danger of sympathy and silence.

En/Pt From Beaujeu the road kept rising and led the travellers into higher and higher air. There they saw huge glaciers and snow that never melted on the mountain tops. They often stopped to look at these great scenes. Sitting on wild cliffs where only the ilex or the larch could grow, they looked over dark fir forests and steep rocks where no human foot had ever gone, down into a valley so deep that the roar of the stream at the bottom could hardly be heard. Above those cliffs rose others, huge and strangely shaped, some like cones and others leaning far over their base in great masses of granite. On their broken ridges lay heavy snow that trembled at the smallest sound and seemed ready to crash down into the valley. All around them, as far as the eye could see, there was only greatness: long rows of mountain tops tinted blue by the air or white with snow, icy valleys, and dark fir woods. The clear, calm air was very pleasant to the travellers. It seemed to lift their spirits and fill them with a quiet joy. They had no words for the powerful feelings they felt. St. Aubert looked serious, often had tears in his eyes, and often walked away from the others. Valancourt sometimes pointed out details of the view to Emily. The thin air made everything look very clear, and Emily could hardly believe that things which seemed so near were really far away. The deep silence was broken only now and then by the cry of vultures near a cliff below, or by an eagle high in the sky, except when they heard the dull thunder that sometimes sounded under their feet. Above them the sky was a deep blue with no cloud, while halfway down the mountains long waves of mist often rolled by, hiding the land below and then opening again to show it in part. Emily loved watching these clouds as they changed shape and color, and she watched how they changed the lower world, whose half-hidden features kept taking on new forms of grandeur.

En/Pt After many leagues in these regions, they began to go down toward Rousillon, and beauty joined the scene. Still, the travellers looked back with some sadness at the grand sights they had left behind. Yet their eyes, tired from looking so far, were glad to rest on the green woods and meadows by the river below, on the simple cottage shaded by cedars, on the playful mountain children, and on the flower-filled corners among the hills.

En/Pt As they went down, they saw far on the right one of the great passes of the Pyrenees into Spain. Its towers and walls shone in the light of the setting sun. The yellow tops of the woods colored the slopes below, while high above, the snowy mountain peaks still showed a soft pink light.

En/Pt St. Aubert began to look for the small town that the people of Beaujeu had told him about, where he meant to spend the night. But no house could be seen yet. Valancourt could not help him judge the distance, because he had never traveled this far along the Alps before. Still, there was one road to follow, and it was likely the right one, since no other paths had appeared after they left Beaujeu to confuse them.

En/Pt The sun was giving its last light, and St. Aubert told the muleteer to go on as quickly as possible. He felt his weakness and tiredness return after a day that had worn out both his body and mind, and he longed for rest. He was also troubled by seeing a long line of men, horses, and loaded mules coming down the opposite mountain, again and again hidden and shown by the woods, so that no one could tell how many there were. Something bright, like weapons, flashed in the sunset, and the men in front, and others among the group behind, wore military dress. As they moved down into the valley, the rear of the party came out of the woods and showed a band of soldiers. St. Aubert now felt calmer. He was sure the line before him was made up of smugglers who had been carrying banned goods over the Pyrenees and had been met and defeated by troops.

En/Pt The travelers had stayed so long among the grand views of the mountains that they were wrong in thinking they could reach Montigny by sunset. As they followed the valley, they saw on a rough Alpine bridge, which joined two high rocks, a group of mountain children. They were throwing pebbles into the river below and watching the stones fall into the water. The water sent up white spray and made a dull sound that echoed through the mountains. Under the bridge, they could see the valley stretching away, with a waterfall among the rocks and a cottage on a cliff under pine trees. It seemed they could not be far from a small town. St. Aubert told the muleteer to stop and called to the children to ask if he was near Montigny. But the distance and the roar of the water made his voice unheard. The rocks by the bridge were so high and steep that climbing them would have been almost impossible for someone who did not know the way. So St. Aubert did not waste more time. They kept traveling long after dusk had hidden the road, and because the path was so rough, they got down and walked. The moon was rising, but its light was still too weak to help them. As they went on carefully, they heard the evening bell of a convent. In the dark, they could not see any building, but the sound seemed to come from woods on a slope to the right. Valancourt suggested that he should go and find the convent. 'If they will not give us a place to stay tonight,' he said, 'they can surely tell us how far we are from Montigny and show us the way.' He started forward without waiting for St. Aubert's answer, but St. Aubert stopped him. 'I am very tired,' he said, 'and I want rest more than anything. We will all go to the convent. Your good looks might spoil our plan, but when they see my face and Emily's tired looks, they will hardly refuse us shelter.'

En/Pt As he said this, he took Emily's arm and told Michael to wait in the road with the carriage. Then they began to climb toward the woods, led by the convent bell. St. Aubert's steps were weak, and Valancourt offered his arm, which he accepted. The moon now gave a faint light, and soon they could see towers rising above the tops of the woods. Still following the bell, they entered the shadow of the trees. Only moonlight came through the leaves, giving a shaky, uncertain light on the steep path. The darkness, the silence, and the wild scene frightened Emily a little, though Valancourt's voice and talk helped calm her. After climbing for some time, St. Aubert said he was tired, and they stopped to rest on a small green hilltop where the trees opened and let in the moonlight. He sat on the grass between Emily and Valancourt. The bell had stopped, and the scene was very still. Only the low sound of distant waterfalls could be heard, and it seemed to add to the peace rather than break it.

En/Pt In front of them lay the valley they had left. Its rocks and woods on the left were touched by silver moonlight, while the cliffs on the other side were in deep shadow, with only their tops lit. Far away, the valley disappeared into the yellow mist of the moon. The travelers sat for a while, filled with the quiet pleasure that such scenes create.

En/Pt 'These scenes,' said Valancourt at last, 'soften the heart like sweet music, and they bring a wonderful sadness that no one who has felt it would give up for the happiest pleasures. They awaken our best and purest feelings and make us more kind, gentle, and friendly. Those I love - I always seem to love them more at such a time as this.' His voice shook, and he stopped.

En/Pt St. Aubert said nothing. Emily saw a warm tear fall on the hand he was holding. She knew who he was thinking of, and she too had been thinking of her mother for some time. He seemed to make an effort to control himself. 'Yes,' he said with a half-hidden sigh, 'the memory of those we love, and of times long gone, comes to the mind at such an hour like a distant piece of music in the stillness of night - gentle and in harmony with this landscape, resting in the soft moonlight.' After a moment, St. Aubert added, 'I have always thought that I understand things more clearly at such an hour than at any other, and any heart that does not soften under its influence must be cold. But many such hearts exist.'

En/Pt Valancourt sighed.

'Are there really many such?' said Emily.

En/Pt “In a few years, my Emily,” replied St. Aubert, “you may smile when you remember that question, if you do not weep over it. But come, I feel a little better now. Let us go on.”

En/Pt After they came out of the woods, they saw the convent they had been looking for on a grassy hill above them. A high wall surrounded it, and they came to an old gate and knocked. A poor monk opened it and led them to a small room nearby, where he asked them to wait while he told the superior of their request. While they waited, several friars came one by one to look at them. At last the first monk returned, and they went with him to the room where the superior sat in an arm-chair. A large old book lay open before him. He greeted them politely, though he did not stand up, and after asking a few questions, he granted their request. After a short talk, formal and solemn on the superior’s side, they went to the room where they were to have supper. Valancourt, after one of the lower friars kindly asked him to come, went to find Michael and the mules. Before they had gone halfway down the cliffs, they heard the muleteer’s voice echoing far and wide. At times he called for St. Aubert, and at times for Valancourt. After they convinced him that neither he nor his master was in danger, they left him for the night in a cottage at the edge of the woods. Then they returned to supper with their friends, with simple food that the monks thought safe to offer them. St. Aubert was too ill to eat with them, and Emily, worried about her father, forgot herself. Valancourt stayed quiet and thoughtful, but he watched over them carefully and did all he could to help St. Aubert. Emily kept urging her father to eat and arranging the pillow behind his arm-chair, and St. Aubert noticed that Valancourt often looked at her with sad tenderness, which he was not sorry to understand.

En/Pt They soon separated and went to their own rooms. A nun of the convent showed Emily to hers, and she was glad to send her away, because she felt sad and could not bear to talk to a stranger. She thought her father was getting weaker each day, and she believed his tiredness came more from his weak body than from the hard journey. Dark thoughts stayed with her until she fell asleep.

En/Pt About two hours later, she woke to the sound of a bell and heard quick footsteps in the passage outside her room. Since she was not used to convent life, this frightened her. She always feared for her father, so she thought he might be very ill and got up quickly to go to him. But before opening her door, she paused to let the people in the passage pass. In that time, her mind became clear after sleep, and she understood that the bell had called the monks to prayers. It was quiet again, so she did not go to St. Aubert’s room. She was not ready to sleep at once, and the moonlight in her room made her open the window and look out at the country.

En/Pt It was a calm and beautiful night. The sky was clear, and almost no leaf in the woods below moved in the air. As she listened, the monks’ midnight hymn rose softly from a chapel on one of the lower cliffs. It was a holy sound that seemed to rise through the night to heaven, and her thoughts rose with it. Thinking of God’s works, she came to worship His goodness and power. Wherever she looked, whether at the sleeping earth or the vast space filled with worlds beyond human thought, she felt God’s greatness and presence. Her eyes filled with tears of loving awe and wonder. She felt a pure devotion above all human beliefs, a devotion that lifts the soul above this world and seems to give it a nobler nature. Such devotion may be felt only when the mind is briefly freed from earthly concerns and turns to God’s power in the greatness of His works and His goodness in His countless gifts.

En/Pt Is it not now the hour, the holy hour, when the full moon climbs the starry sky and gives a sign to this quiet world that religion should speak to heaven’s listening ear? Even a baby knows this. If awakened by chance, he lifts his little hands to the gods and asks a blessing on his innocent bed.* *Caractacus

En/Pt Soon after, the monks’ midnight chant ended in silence. But Emily stayed by the window and watched the sinking moon and the valley growing dark, wishing to keep her peaceful mood a little longer. At last she went back to her mattress and fell into calm sleep.

While in the rosy vale Love breath'd his infant sighs, from anguish free. Thomson

En/Pt After a night’s rest had made him well enough to travel, St. Aubert left in the morning with his family and Valancourt for Rousillon, which he hoped to reach before night. The land they passed through was as wild and romantic as any they had yet seen, but beauty often softened it. Small wooded places appeared among the mountains, bright with green and flowers. Or a pastoral valley opened between the cliffs, with flocks and herds resting by a stream that kept it fresh and green. St. Aubert did not regret taking this hard road, though that day he often had to get down and walk along steep rocks and climb sharp mountains. The wonderful beauty and variety of the views repaid him. The excitement of his young companions also increased his own feelings and brought back the joy of his early life, when the sublime beauty of nature first opened to him. He enjoyed talking with Valancourt and listening to his honest comments. Valancourt’s fire and simple manner made him fit well into the scenes around them, and St. Aubert saw in his thoughts the good sense and dignity of a noble mind untouched by the world. He could see that Valancourt’s opinions were formed by thinking, not by copying others or by much learning. He seemed to know little of the world, for he thought well of everyone, and this belief reflected the goodness of his own heart.

En/Pt Sometimes St. Aubert stopped to look at the wild plants by the path, and then he would look ahead with pleasure at Emily and Valancourt walking together. Valancourt, full of energy and joy, pointed out some grand part of the scenery to her. Emily listened and looked with gentle seriousness, showing the greatness of her mind. They seemed like two lovers who had never gone beyond those mountains where they were born. Their lives had kept them away from the foolishness of ordinary society. Their thoughts were simple and grand, like the landscapes around them, and they knew no happiness except the joining of pure and loving hearts. St. Aubert smiled and sighed at the lovely picture his imagination made, and he sighed again because the world knew so little of nature and simplicity that it called their joys romantic.

En/Pt “The world,” he said, continuing his thoughts, “laughs at a feeling it rarely has. Its sights and interests disturb the mind, spoil good taste, and corrupt the heart. Love cannot live in a heart that has lost the gentle dignity of innocence. Virtue and taste are almost the same, for virtue is mostly active taste, and the finest feelings of both come together in true love. So how can we expect love in big cities, where selfishness, pleasure-seeking, and falsehood take the place of tenderness, simplicity, and truth?”

En/Pt It was near noon when the travellers reached a steep and dangerous road, and got down to walk. The road climbed a wooded hill, and instead of following the carriage, they went into the cool shade. The air was fresh and damp. Bright green grass grew under the trees, and flowers, balm, thyme, and lavender filled the air with a sweet smell. Tall pines, beeches, and chestnut trees stood above them and made the place very lovely. Sometimes the thick leaves blocked all view of the country. At other times, they gave short views of the land far away, which made the travellers imagine scenes even more beautiful than what they could see. They often stopped to enjoy these dreams.

En/Pt There were more silent pauses than ever today in the talks between Valancourt and Emily. Valancourt often changed suddenly from lively talk to deep thought. Sometimes his smile showed real sadness. Emily could not help understanding it, because her heart was touched by what it said.

En/Pt St. Aubert felt refreshed by the shade, and they kept walking under the trees, following the road as well as they could guess. Soon they saw that they had lost it completely. They had stayed near the edge of a cliff because the view was so beautiful, while the road had gone far away above them. Valancourt called loudly for Michael, but only heard his own voice echo among the rocks. He tried again and again to find the road, but failed. Then they saw a shepherd's cabin among the tree trunks at some distance, and Valancourt ran ahead to ask for help. When he got there, he found only two small children playing outside. He looked inside, but no one was there. The older boy said their father was with the sheep, and their mother had gone down into the valley but would soon return. While Valancourt was thinking what to do next, he suddenly heard Michael's strong voice calling from the cliffs above. He answered at once and pushed through the bushes and steep ground toward the sound. After a hard struggle over brambles and rocks, he reached Michael and finally got him to stop and listen. The road was far from where St. Aubert and Emily were. The carriage could not easily go back to the edge of the wood, and St. Aubert was too tired to climb the long, steep road to where it was. So Valancourt wanted to find an easier way up, by the path he had taken.

En/Pt Meanwhile, St. Aubert and Emily went to the cottage and rested on a simple bench fixed between two pine trees, which shaded it, while they waited for Valancourt to return.

En/Pt The older child stopped playing and watched the strangers, while the younger kept jumping about and tried to make his brother join him. St. Aubert smiled at this picture of childlike innocence, but it reminded him of his own boys, whom he had lost at about the same age, and of their mother, who was also gone. He became quiet and sad. Emily saw this, and at once began to sing one of the simple, cheerful songs he loved. She sang it very sweetly. St. Aubert smiled through his tears, took her hand, and pressed it warmly. Then he tried to push away his sad thoughts.

En/Pt While she sang, Valancourt came near. He did not want to interrupt her, so he stopped a little distance away and listened. When she finished, he joined them and said that he had found Michael and also a way up the cliff to the carriage. He pointed to the wooded slope above, and St. Aubert looked at it with worry. He was already tired from walking, and the climb seemed hard. Still, he thought it would be easier than the long broken road, so he decided to try it. But Emily always cared for his comfort, so she suggested that he should rest and eat first. Then Valancourt went to the carriage to get the food.

En/Pt When he returned, he suggested that they move a little higher up the mountain, where the woods opened onto a wide and beautiful view. They were ready to go there when they saw a young woman join the children and hold them close while she cried over them.

En/Pt Moved by her distress, the travellers stopped and watched her. She picked up the youngest child, and when she noticed the strangers, she quickly wiped her tears and went back to the cottage. St. Aubert asked about her sorrow and learned that her husband was a shepherd who lived there in the summer to watch the sheep on these mountains. The night before, he had lost all they had. A group of gypsies had been troubling the area for some time and had driven away several of his master's sheep. The shepherd's wife said, 'Jacques had saved a little money and bought a few sheep with it. Now he must answer to his master for the stolen ones. Worse still, when his master hears of it, he will no longer trust him with the sheep, because he is a hard man. Then what will happen to our children?'

En/Pt The woman's honest face and simple way of speaking made St. Aubert believe her story. Valancourt was sure it was true, and he quickly asked how much the stolen sheep were worth. When he heard the answer, he turned away, looking disappointed. St. Aubert gave her some money, and Emily also gave what she could from her small purse. Then they walked toward the cliff, but Valancourt stayed behind and spoke to the shepherd's wife, who was now crying with thanks and surprise. He asked how much more money was needed to replace the sheep, and found that it was almost all the money he had with him. He felt troubled and torn. This money could make the poor family fully happy, and he had the power to give it. But what would happen to him? How would he finish his journey with so little left? For a moment he stood there, unwilling to lose the joy of saving a family from ruin, yet worried about the rest of his trip.

En/Pt While he was still in this trouble, the shepherd himself appeared. His children ran to meet him. He took one child in his arms, and the other held onto his coat as he came forward slowly and sadly. His unhappy face made Valancourt decide at once. He threw away all his money except for a very few louis, and ran after St. Aubert and Emily, who were slowly climbing the steep path. Valancourt had rarely felt so light-hearted. He was full of joy, and everything around him seemed more beautiful than before. St. Aubert noticed his bright face and asked, 'What has made you so happy?' Valancourt answered, 'What a lovely day. How brightly the sun shines, how fresh the air is, and what beautiful scenery!' 'It is truly beautiful,' said St. Aubert, who understood what Valancourt was feeling. 'It is a pity that rich people, who can enjoy such sunshine, spend their lives in sadness and selfishness. As for you, my young friend, may the sun always shine as brightly for you as it does now, and may your actions always give you the light of kindness and good sense together!'

En/Pt Valancourt felt very pleased by this praise, but he could only answer with a grateful smile.

En/Pt They went on winding under the woods, between the grassy hills of the mountain. When they reached the shaded peak he had shown them, everyone cried out in wonder. Behind them, the rock rose straight up like a huge wall, then spread into hanging cliffs. Their grey color stood out against the bright plants and wild flowers growing in the broken rock, and against the dark pines and cedars above. Below, steep slopes dropped sharply to the valley, lined with thick alpine bushes. Farther down were the treetops of chestnut woods, and among them they could see the shepherd's cottage they had just left, with blue smoke rising into the air. All around them were the great peaks of the Pyrenees. Some showed huge marble cliffs, changing in look as the light changed. Others rose even higher, showing only snowy tops, while their lower slopes were covered with pine, larch, and oak forests that ran down to the vale. This was one of the narrow valleys that open from the Pyrenees into Rousillon. Its green fields and settled beauty were very different from the wild mountain scenery around it. Through a gap between the mountains, they could see the lowlands of Rousillon, blue with distance, joining the Mediterranean Sea. On a headland at the shore stood a lonely beacon, with sea birds flying around it. Farther out, a sail would appear now and then, shining white in the sun and moving toward the lighthouse. Sometimes a ship was so far away that it seemed only to mark the line between sky and sea.

En/Pt On the other side of the valley, across from where the travellers rested, a rocky path opened toward Gascony. There was no sign of farming or life. The granite rocks rose sharply and stretched their bare tops to the clouds. There were no woods, and not even a hunter's cabin. Now and then, a huge larch tree cast its long shadow over the cliff, and here and there a cross stood on a cliff top to warn travellers of the fate of those who had gone there before. The place seemed like a den of bandits. Emily looked down and almost expected to see them coming out of a hidden cave to hunt for victims. Soon she saw something even more frightening: a gallows on a rocky point near the entrance to the pass, just above one of the crosses she had noticed before. These signs told a clear and terrible story. She did not point them out to St. Aubert, but they made her uneasy and eager to move on so they might reach Rousillon before night. Still, St. Aubert needed some food, so they sat on the short dry grass and opened the basket of provisions, while

En/Pt Cool breezes moved over them, and green cedar trees waved above their heads. Tall palmetto trees lifted their graceful shade. There they drew in fresh life and drank the healing air from the pine woods and sweet-smelling valleys. Far away, they could hear rushing rivers and waterfalls.

En/Pt Rest and the calm air on the summit revived St. Aubert. Valancourt was so pleased by everything around him, and by the talk of his companions, that he seemed to forget that the journey was still not over. After their simple meal, they took one last long look at the view and started climbing again. St. Aubert was glad when they reached the carriage, where Emily joined him. But Valancourt wanted a wider view of the beautiful country below, so he let his dogs loose and ran along beside the road. He often left the road for places that promised a better view, and because the mules moved slowly, he could easily catch up. When he saw a view of great beauty, he hurried to tell St. Aubert. St. Aubert was too tired to walk, but sometimes he had the carriage stop while Emily went to the nearby cliff.

En/Pt It was evening when they came down from the lower Alps that surround Rousillon. These mountains form a great wall around this lovely country, leaving it open only to the east toward the Mediterranean. The bright colors of farms made the land beautiful again. The lowlands had the richest colors, made possible by the warm weather and hard-working people. Groves of orange and lemon trees smelled sweet, with ripe fruit shining among the leaves. Vineyards spread their treasures on the slopes. Beyond that, woods, fields, and towns and villages stretched toward the sea. On the bright sea, many sails gleamed in the distance. Over everything, there was a purple evening light. This view with the Alps around was a perfect picture of the lovely and the great, of 'beauty sleeping in the lap of horror.'

En/Pt After reaching the plains, the travellers went between hedges of flowering myrtle and pomegranate to the town of Arles, where they planned to stay for the night. They found simple but neat rooms, and they might have enjoyed a happy evening after the day's hard travel and pleasure, if the coming separation had not made them sad. St. Aubert planned to go the next day to the edge of the Mediterranean and travel along its shore into Languedoc. Valancourt, now nearly well and no longer able to stay with his new friends as an excuse, decided to leave them there. St. Aubert, who liked him very much, invited him to go farther, but did not press him again. Valancourt had enough strength of mind to refuse the invitation, so he would not seem to accept favor without deserving it. The next morning they were to part: St. Aubert would continue to Languedoc, and Valancourt would go back through the mountains and see new places on his way home. That evening he was often quiet and thoughtful. St. Aubert was warm but serious with him, and Emily was sad, though she tried many times to look cheerful. After one of the saddest evenings they had spent together, they said goodnight and separated.

Chapter VI

En/Pt I do not care, Fortune, what you deny me. You cannot take away the beauty of free nature. You cannot close the sky, through which dawn shows her bright face. You cannot stop my steady feet from walking in the woods and fields beside the living stream in the evening. Let health strengthen my body, and I will leave the empty pleasures to others. Fortune cannot take from me imagination, reason, or virtue.

En/Pt In the morning, Valancourt had breakfast with St. Aubert and Emily, but neither of them seemed well rested. St. Aubert still felt weak from illness, and Emily feared that he was getting worse quickly. She watched his face with loving worry, and her own face always showed the same feelings.

En/Pt When they first met, Valancourt had told them his name and family. St. Aubert knew both, because Valancourt's family lands were only about twenty miles from La Vallee, and he had sometimes met Valancourt's older brother during visits nearby. This made St. Aubert more willing to welcome his new companion. Valancourt's looks and manners would have pleased him anyway, for St. Aubert trusted his own judgment about faces. But he would not have thought that alone was enough introduction for his daughter.

En/Pt Breakfast was almost as quiet as the supper the night before. But their thoughts were stopped by the sound of carriage wheels. The carriage was there to take St. Aubert and Emily away. Valancourt rose at once and went to the window. He saw it was true, and sat down again without speaking. The time had come for them to part. St. Aubert told Valancourt that he hoped he would never pass La Vallee without visiting him. Valancourt thanked him warmly and promised he never would. As he said this, he looked nervously at Emily, who tried to hide her sadness with a smile. They spoke for a few more minutes, and then St. Aubert led the way to the carriage. Emily and Valancourt followed in silence. Valancourt stayed at the door for several minutes after they were seated, and none of them could bring themselves to say farewell. At last St. Aubert said the sad word, Emily passed it to Valancourt, and he answered with a sad smile. Then the carriage moved on.

En/Pt The travellers stayed for a while in quiet thought, and it was not unpleasant. St. Aubert ended the silence and said, 'This is a very promising young man. It has been many years since I have felt so pleased with someone after such a short meeting. He makes me remember my youth, when everything was new and wonderful!' St. Aubert sighed and fell into thought again. Emily looked back along the road they had travelled and saw Valancourt at the door of the little inn, watching them. He saw her too and waved. She waved back until the turning road hid him from view.

En/Pt 'I remember when I was about his age,' St. Aubert said again. 'I thought and felt just as he does. Then the world was opening for me. Now it is closing.'

En/Pt 'My dear sir, do not think so sadly,' Emily said in a trembling voice. 'I hope you will live many, many years, for your own sake, and for mine.'

En/Pt 'Ah, my Emily!' replied St. Aubert. 'For your sake! Well, I hope so.' He wiped away a tear from his cheek, smiled, and said kindly, 'There is something very pleasing in the energy and honesty of youth, if an old man has not been hardened by the world. It is cheerful and renewing, like seeing spring after illness. The mind feels some of that season's spirit, and the eyes get a little sunshine. Valancourt is that spring to me.'

En/Pt Emily pressed her father's hand lovingly. She had never enjoyed his praise of anyone as much as this, not even when he praised her.

En/Pt They travelled on through vineyards, woods, and fields, enjoying the beautiful and romantic view. On one side were the Pyrenees, and on the other was the ocean. Soon after noon, they reached Colioure, a town on the Mediterranean. They ate dinner there and rested until later in the cool of the day. Then they continued along the coast toward Languedoc. Emily looked at the wide sea with great excitement, watching how its surface changed with light and shadow, and how the wooded shores were softened by the colors of autumn.

En/Pt St. Aubert was eager to reach Perpignan, where he expected letters from M. Quesnel. This hope made him leave Colioure, even though his weak body needed rest at once. After they had travelled a few miles, he fell asleep. Emily had put two or three books in the carriage when they left La Vallee, so now she had time to read them. She looked for the book that Valancourt had been reading the day before, and hoped to read the pages his eyes had just passed over, to think about the lines he had admired, and to feel as if his thoughts were speaking to her through them. But she could not find that book. Instead, she saw a volume of Petrarch's poems that had belonged to Valancourt. His name was written in it, and he had often read from it to her with great feeling. At first she did not believe he had left this book on purpose instead of the one she had lost, as if love had guided the exchange. But when she opened it eagerly and saw the pencil marks by the passages he had read aloud, and by others that showed a tenderness he had not dared to say aloud, she understood. For a moment she knew only that she was loved. Then she remembered the many ways he had spoken and looked when reading those sonnets, and the strong feeling in his voice. She wept over this sign of his love.

En/Pt They reached Perpignan soon after sunset. There St. Aubert found the letters from M. Quesnel that he had expected. Their contents clearly troubled him so deeply that Emily was frightened. She gently asked him to tell her what was wrong, as far as she could do so without being rude. But he answered only with tears and quickly changed the subject. Emily did not press him further, though she was deeply upset by his manner, and she spent the night awake and anxious.

En/Pt In the morning they travelled on along the coast toward Leucate, another town on the Mediterranean, near the border of Languedoc and Rousillon. On the way, Emily spoke again about the night before and was so disturbed by St. Aubert's silence and sadness that he finally gave in. 'My dear Emily,' he said, 'I did not want to spoil your pleasure in these beautiful scenes. So I meant to hide some things for now, though you must learn them in time. But your worry has changed that plan. You suffer almost as much from waiting as you would from hearing the truth. M. Quesnel's visit brought bad news. He came to tell me part of what he has now confirmed. You may have heard me mention M. Motteville, of Paris, but you did not know that most of my property was in his care. I trusted him greatly, and I still want to believe he is not entirely unworthy of my respect. Many things have happened that have ruined him, and with him, I am ruined too.'

En/Pt St. Aubert stopped for a moment so he could hide his feelings.

En/Pt "The letters I have just received from M. Quesnel," he said, trying to speak calmly, "contained other letters from Motteville, and they confirmed all my fears."

En/Pt "Must we then leave La Vallee?" Emily asked after a long silence. "That is still uncertain," St. Aubert replied. "It will depend on the agreement Motteville can make with his creditors. You know my income was never large, and now it will be very small. I am most sorry for you, Emily, my child." His voice shook. Emily smiled at him through her tears. Then she tried to control her feelings and said, "My dear father, do not grieve for me or for yourself. We may still be happy. If La Vallee remains ours, we must be happy. We will keep only one servant, and you will hardly notice the change in your income. Be comforted, dear sir. We shall not miss the luxuries that others value so much, because we never cared for them. And poverty cannot take away many things from us. It cannot take away our love for each other, or lower us in our own eyes, or in the eyes of anyone whose opinion truly matters."

En/Pt St. Aubert hid his face with his handkerchief and could not speak. But Emily kept reminding her father of the truths he himself had taught her.

En/Pt 'Besides, dear sir, poverty cannot take away the pleasures of the mind. It cannot stop you from giving me examples of strength and kindness. It cannot stop me from comforting a loved parent. It cannot ruin our love for the grand and beautiful things in nature. Those amazing views are free for everyone, rich or poor. So what do we have to complain about, as long as we have what we need? Pleasures that money cannot buy will still be ours. We keep the great joys of nature and only lose the unimportant ones of human inventions.'

En/Pt St. Aubert could not answer. He held Emily close, and their tears fell together, but they were not tears of sadness. After such heartfelt words, anything else would have felt weak, and they stayed silent for a while. Then St. Aubert spoke as he had before. His mind had not fully returned to peace, but he at least looked calm.

En/Pt They reached the beautiful town of Leucate early in the day, but St. Aubert was tired, so they decided to stay there for the night. In the evening, he made an effort to walk with Emily and look at the country around them, which overlooked the lake of Leucate, the Mediterranean, part of Rousillon, the Pyrenees, and a wide stretch of rich Languedoc, now red with ripe grapes that the peasants were beginning to gather. St. Aubert and Emily watched the busy workers, heard the happy songs carried by the wind, and looked forward with pleasure to the next day's journey through this lively land. Still, he planned to keep traveling along the seashore. He partly wanted to return home at once, but he chose to continue in order to give Emily more pleasure and to see whether the sea air would help his illness.

En/Pt The next day, they continued their journey through Languedoc along the Mediterranean shore. The Pyrenees still rose behind them in a grand view, while the ocean lay on their right and wide plains stretched on their left until they faded into the blue distance. St. Aubert was pleased and talked a great deal with Emily. Yet sometimes his cheerfulness seemed forced, and sometimes sadness showed on his face. Emily's smile quickly drove it away, but her own heart was aching, because she saw that his troubles were hurting both his mind and his weak body.

En/Pt It was evening when they reached a small village in Upper Languedoc, where they meant to stay for the night. But there were no beds for them, because it was also the season of the harvest. So they had to go on to the next post station. St. Aubert felt weak and tired and needed rest right away, but it was already late, and there was no choice. He told Michael to keep going.

En/Pt The rich plains of Languedoc, full of harvest time joy and the cheer of a French festival, no longer gave St. Aubert pleasure. His sad condition stood in painful contrast to the happiness and young beauty around him. As his tired eyes looked over the scene, he thought that soon they might close forever on this world. "Those distant and noble mountains," he said to himself, looking at the line of the Pyrenees in the west, "these rich plains, this blue sky, this bright daylight, will all be hidden from my eyes! The peasant's song, the cheerful human voice, will no longer sound for me!"

En/Pt Emily seemed to understand her father’s thoughts from his eyes. She looked at him with such gentle pity that he forgot his own regret and thought only of leaving his daughter unprotected. This made his pain even worse. He sighed deeply and said nothing. She seemed to understand the sigh. She pressed his hand kindly, then turned to the window to hide her tears. The sun gave a last yellow light on the waves of the Mediterranean, and evening darkness quickly covered the scene. Only a sad glow remained on the western horizon, showing where the sun had set through the autumn mist. A cool breeze came from the shore, and Emily lowered the window. But the fresh air was good for health and bad for sickness, so St. Aubert asked for the window to be closed again. His illness was growing worse, and he was more anxious than ever to finish the day’s journey. He stopped the muleteer and asked how far they still had to go to the next post. The answer was nine miles. St. Aubert said he could not go much farther and asked Michael to look for any house on the road where they could stay for the night. He lay back in the carriage, and Michael cracked his whip and went on at full speed until St. Aubert, nearly fainting, told him to stop. Emily looked out anxiously and saw a peasant some distance away on the road. They waited for him and asked whether there was any house nearby for travelers. He said he knew of none. He did mention a chateau in the woods on the right, but said it likely took no guests and that he could not guide them because he was almost a stranger there. St. Aubert wanted to ask more about the chateau, but the man quickly went on. After thinking for a moment, St. Aubert told Michael to move slowly toward the woods. The dusk grew darker every minute, and it became harder to find the road. Soon another peasant passed. Michael called out, asking the way to the chateau in the woods.

En/Pt ‘The chateau in the woods!’ cried the peasant. ‘Do you mean the one with the turret over there?’

En/Pt ‘I don’t know about the turret, as you call it,’ said Michael. ‘I mean that white building we can see far away among the trees.’

En/Pt ‘Yes, that is the turret. But who are you, and why are you going there?’ said the man in surprise.

En/Pt Hearing this strange question and the odd way it was spoken, St. Aubert looked out from the carriage. ‘We are travellers,’ he said. ‘We are looking for a place to stay for the night. Is there any here?’

En/Pt ‘None, Monsieur, unless you want to try your luck there,’ the peasant answered, pointing to the woods. ‘But I would not advise you to go.’

En/Pt ‘To whom does the chateau belong?’

‘I hardly know myself, Monsieur.’

‘Then it is empty?’ ‘No, not empty. I believe the steward and housekeeper are there.’

En/Pt When St. Aubert heard this, he decided to go to the chateau and risk being refused a place for the night. He asked the countryman to show Michael the way and promised a reward for his trouble. For a moment the man said nothing. Then he said he was going on other business, but they could not miss the road if they took the avenue to the right, which he pointed out. St. Aubert was about to speak, but the peasant wished him good night and walked away.

En/Pt The carriage moved towards the avenue. A gate guarded it. Michael got off to open it. Then they entered between old oak and chestnut trees. Their branches formed a high arch above. The avenue looked gloomy and desolate. It was very quiet. Emily almost shook as she went along. She remembered what the peasant said about the chateau. She gave his words a mysterious meaning. She had not thought of that when he spoke. She tried to stop her fears. She thought they came from her sad imagination. Her father's situation and her own made her feel every impression.

En/Pt They moved on slowly, because it was now almost dark. The ground was uneven, and old tree roots rose out of the soil, so they had to go carefully. Suddenly Michael stopped the carriage. St. Aubert looked out of the window to ask why, and saw a figure moving along the avenue at some distance. The light was too dim to tell who it was, but he told Michael to go on.

En/Pt "This seems a wild place," said Michael. "There is no house near here. Don't your honour think we had better turn back?"

En/Pt "Go a little farther, and if we still see no house, we will return to the road," replied St. Aubert.

En/Pt Michael went on unwillingly, and he moved so slowly that St. Aubert looked out again and saw the same figure. He was a little frightened, perhaps because the place was so gloomy. He then stopped Michael and told him to call out to the person in the avenue.

En/Pt "Please your honour, he may be a robber," said Michael. "It does not please me," replied St. Aubert, smiling at Michael’s simple words. "So we will go back to the road, because there is little chance of finding what we are looking for here."

En/Pt Michael turned at once and hurried back, when a voice was heard among the trees on the left. It was not a voice of command or of distress, but a deep, hollow sound that seemed almost not human. Michael whipped the mules and drove them as fast as he could, without caring about the dark, the rough ground, or the safety of the others. He did not stop until they reached the gate that led from the avenue to the high road, where he slowed down.

En/Pt "I am very ill," said St. Aubert, taking Emily’s hand. "You are worse, then, sir!" cried Emily, greatly frightened by his manner. "You are worse, and there is no help here. What shall we do?" He leaned his head on her shoulder, and she tried to support him with her arm. Michael was told to stop again. When the sound of the wheels ended, music was heard in the air. To Emily, it sounded like hope. "Oh, we are near some human home!" she said. "Help may soon be found."

En/Pt She listened anxiously. The music was far away and seemed to come from deep in the woods beside the road. Looking toward it, she saw something like a chateau in the pale moonlight. But it was hard to reach. St. Aubert was too ill to bear the movement of the carriage, Michael could not leave his mules, and Emily dared not leave her father or go alone to an unknown place. She had to decide quickly. St. Aubert told Michael to go slowly, but after a short distance he fainted, and the carriage stopped again. He lay unconscious. "My dear father!" cried Emily in terrible fear. "Speak, even if it is only one word!" But there was no answer. She sent Michael to get water from a stream beside the road. Using his hat, she sprinkled water on her father’s face, which now looked pale like death in the moonlight. Her fear of herself vanished, and she left St. Aubert with Michael, who would not go far from his mules. Then she got out of the carriage to look for the chateau she had seen. The night was still, and the music guided her from the road up a dark lane into the woods. At first she thought only of her father, but when the trees grew thicker and blocked out the moonlight, and the place seemed wild, she understood how dangerous her situation was. The music had stopped, and she had no guide. She paused in fear, then went on because of her father’s condition. The lane ended in the woods, but she could see no house or person and hear nothing to guide her. She kept moving, avoiding the deep parts of the forest and staying near its edge, until a rough avenue opening onto a moonlit place caught her eye. Its wild look made her think of the avenue leading to the turreted chateau, and she believed this might be part of the same estate. As she wondered whether to follow it, loud voices and merry laughter burst out. It did not sound cheerful, but wild and noisy, and she stood still in alarm. Then she heard a voice calling from the way she had come. Thinking it was Michael, she wanted to hurry back. But then she remembered that Michael would not have left his mules unless forced to do so, and fearing that her father might be dying, she ran forward, hoping for help from the people in the woods. Her heart beat hard as she came nearer the voices, and she startled at the sound of leaves under her feet. The voices led her to a moonlit opening. There, between the tree trunks, she saw a small round space of green grass, surrounded by woods, with a group of figures on it. As she came closer, she saw they were peasants, and she noticed several cottages around the edge of the forest. While she was still frightened and uncertain, some peasant girls came out of a cottage. Music began at once, and the dance started. It was the joyful vintage music she had heard before. But Emily was too worried about her father to notice the contrast between this happy scene and her own pain. She hurried to a group of older peasants sitting by a cottage door, explained her trouble, and asked for help. Several of them stood up quickly, offered what help they could, and followed Emily as fast as they could back toward the road.

En/Pt When she returned to the carriage, she found St. Aubert awake again. After he came to himself, Michael told him where Emily had gone, and his concern for her became stronger than his care for himself. He had sent Michael to look for her. He was still weak, and he knew he could not travel far. So he asked again about an inn and about the chateau in the woods. "The chateau cannot receive you, sir," said an old peasant who had followed Emily from the woods. "It is hardly lived in. But if you will honour me by coming to my cottage, you will be welcome to the best bed I have."

En/Pt St. Aubert was French himself, so French politeness did not surprise him. But he was ill, and he felt even more grateful because of the kindly way the offer was made. He was too polite to apologize or to pretend to hesitate, so he accepted the peasant's hospitality at once, with the same honesty as it was offered.

En/Pt The carriage moved on slowly again. Michael followed the peasants up the lane Emily had just left, until they reached a moonlit clearing. St. Aubert felt much better because of his host's kindness and the hope of rest. He looked with quiet pleasure at the moonlit woods, where openings in the trees let in bright light and showed a cottage or a shining stream. He listened without pain to the lively guitar and tambourine. When he saw the cheerful dance of the peasants, tears came to his eyes, but they were not only tears of sorrow. Emily felt differently. Her first fear for her father had passed, and now she felt only a soft sadness, made deeper by every happy sound around her.

En/Pt The dance stopped when the carriage came near, which was unusual in these quiet woods, and the villagers gathered around it with great curiosity. When they heard that it carried a sick stranger, several girls ran across the grass and came back with wine and baskets of grapes. They gave them to the travellers, each one eager to be the most welcome. At last the carriage stopped at a neat cottage. The old man guiding them helped St. Aubert out, then led him and Emily into a small inner room lit only by moonlight through the open window. St. Aubert sat down happily to rest, breathing the cool, sweet air and the smell of honeysuckle. Their host, called La Voisin, left the room and soon returned with fruit, cream, and the best country food his cottage could offer. He set it down with a warm smile and stood behind his guest's chair. St. Aubert asked him to sit at the table, and after the fruit eased his fever and he felt better, he began to talk with him. La Voisin spoke openly about himself and his family, and his words showed real family love and kindness. Emily sat beside her father, holding his hand, and as she listened she felt her heart fill with sympathy. She also cried because she thought death would soon take away the dearest blessing she had. The soft moonlight of the autumn evening and the sad music in the distance made her even more melancholy. La Voisin kept talking about his family, while St. Aubert stayed silent. He said that only one daughter was still alive, but she was happily married and meant everything to him. After his wife died, he had gone to live with Agnes and her family. She had several children, and they were all dancing on the green nearby. He hoped they would stay happy, and he hoped to die among them. He knew he was old and would not live long, but he found comfort in dying among his children.

En/Pt 'My good friend,' said St. Aubert with a shaking voice, 'I hope you will live long with them.'

En/Pt 'Ah, sir! At my age I must not hope for that,' replied the old man. He paused. 'I can hardly wish it. I trust I will go to heaven, where my wife is. Sometimes I think I see her on a quiet moonlit night, walking in these woods she loved. Do you believe we can come back to earth after we die?'

En/Pt Emily could no longer hold back her grief. Her tears fell quickly onto her father's hand, which she still held. He tried to speak, and at last said quietly, "I hope we may look down on those we have left on earth, but I can only hope. The future is hidden from us, and faith and hope are our only guides. We are not told that spirits watch over the friends they loved, but we may safely hope it. I will never give up that hope," he said, wiping the tears from Emily's eyes. "It will soften the bitter moments of death." Tears fell slowly down his cheeks. La Voisin also wept, and there was a silence. Then La Voisin said again, "But you believe, sir, that we shall meet in another world the family we have loved in this one. I must believe this." "Then believe it," replied St. Aubert. "The pain of separation would be very great if we thought it lasted forever. Look up, my dear Emily, we shall meet again!" He lifted his eyes to heaven, and moonlight on his face showed peace and calm coming over his sadness.

En/Pt La Voisin felt he had spoken too much about this, so he changed the subject and said, "It is dark. I forgot to bring a light."

En/Pt 'No,' said St. Aubert, 'this light I love. Sit down, my friend. Emily, my dear, I feel better than all day. This air refreshes me. I enjoy this quiet hour and the music that floats nicely in the distance. Let me see you smile. Who plays the guitar so nicely? Are there two instruments, or is it an echo?'

En/Pt I think it is an echo, monsieur. That guitar is often heard at night when everything is still, but nobody knows who plays it. Sometimes a voice joins it, so sweet and sad that one would think the woods were haunted." "They certainly are haunted," said St. Aubert with a smile. "But I believe by living people." "I have heard it at midnight when I could not sleep," La Voisin said, as if he had not noticed the joke. "It has come almost under my window, and I have never heard such music. It has often reminded me of my poor wife until I cried. I have gone to the window to see if I could find anyone, but as soon as I opened it, everything became silent and no one was there. I have listened so long that even the rustling of leaves in the wind has frightened me. People say the music warns of death, but I have heard it for many years and have lived beyond the warning."

En/Pt Emily smiled at this foolish superstition, but because she already felt sad, she could not fully keep herself from sharing the fear it brought.

En/Pt “Well, my good friend,” said St. Aubert, “has nobody had the courage to follow the sounds? If they had, they might have found the musician.” “Yes, sir, they followed them some way into the woods. But the music kept moving away and sounded as far off as before. At last, the people were afraid it might lead them into danger, so they would go no farther. It is very rare for me to hear these sounds so early in the evening. They usually come at midnight, when that bright planet above the turret there sinks below the woods on the left.”

En/Pt “What turret?” asked St. Aubert quickly. “I see none.”

En/Pt “Forgive me, monsieur, you do see one. The moon shines fully on it. It is up the avenue there, far away. The chateau it belongs to is hidden among the trees.”

En/Pt "Yes, dear sir," said Emily, pointing, "don't you see something shining above the dark woods? I think it is a temple that the moonlight touches."

En/Pt “Ah yes, I see what you mean. And who does the chateau belong to?”

“The Marquis de Villeroi was its owner,” replied La Voisin firmly.

“Ah!” said St. Aubert with a deep sigh. “Are we then so near Le-Blanc!” He looked very upset.

En/Pt “It used to be the Marquis's favorite home,” La Voisin said. “But he came to dislike the place and has not been there for many years. We have heard lately that he is dead, and that it has passed to other hands.” St. Aubert had been sitting in deep thought, but the last words woke him. “Dead!” he cried. “Good God! When did he die?”

En/Pt “He is said to have died about five weeks ago,” replied La Voisin. “Did you know the Marquis, sir?”

En/Pt “This is very strange!” said St. Aubert, and he did not answer the question. “Why is it so, my dear sir?” Emily asked softly, with curious fear. He gave no reply, but fell back into thought. A few moments later, when he seemed calmer, he asked who had received the estates. “I have forgotten his title, monsieur,” said La Voisin, “but my lord lives mostly in Paris. I have not heard that he plans to come here.”

En/Pt “So the chateau is still shut up?”

En/Pt “Yes, sir, more or less. The old housekeeper and her husband, the steward, look after it, but they usually live in a cottage nearby.”

En/Pt “The chateau is large, I suppose,” said Emily, “and it must feel lonely when only two people live there.”

En/Pt “Lonely enough, mademoiselle,” replied La Voisin. “I would not spend one night in the chateau for all the land it stands on.”

En/Pt “What is that?” said St. Aubert, waking again from his thoughts. When his host repeated the last words, St. Aubert gave a groan. Then, as if he did not want it noticed, he quickly asked La Voisin how long he had lived in that area. “Almost since childhood, sir,” said his host.

En/Pt “You remember the late marchioness, then?” said St. Aubert in a changed voice.

“Ah, monsieur, I do indeed. Many others remember her too.”

“Yes,” said St. Aubert, “and I am one of them.”

“Alas, sir! Then you remember a most beautiful and good lady. She deserved a better fate.”

En/Pt Tears came to St. Aubert’s eyes. “Enough,” he said, his voice almost choked with feeling. “That is enough, my friend.”

En/Pt Emily was very surprised by her father’s manner, but she did not ask any questions. La Voisin began to say sorry, but St. Aubert stopped him. “No apology is needed,” he said. “Let us change the subject. You were speaking about the music we just heard.”

En/Pt “I was, monsieur. But listen! It comes again. Listen to that voice!” They all became silent.

En/Pt At last, a soft and solemn sound rose into the air. It was like a stream of rich perfume. It moved through the silence so gently that Silence itself seemed to feel its place had been taken.

En/Pt After a few moments, the voice faded away, and the instrument they had heard before gave a low harmony. St. Aubert said it had a fuller and more beautiful sound than a guitar, and was even sadder and softer than a lute. They listened, but the sounds did not return. “This is strange!” St. Aubert said at last. “Very strange!” Emily said. “It is,” La Voisin answered. Then they were silent again.

En/Pt After a long pause, La Voisin said, "It is about eighteen years since I first heard that music. I remember it was a fine summer night, like this one, but later. I was walking in the woods, alone. I was very sad because one of my boys was sick. I had been watching him all evening while his mother slept. I went out for fresh air. As I walked, I heard music in the distance. I thought it was Claude playing his flute. But when I came to an open place and looked up at the northern lights, I suddenly heard such sounds! I cannot describe them. It was like music of angels. I looked up, almost expecting to see angels in the sky. When I went home, I told everyone, but they laughed. They said it must be shepherds playing pipes. I could not change their minds. A few nights later, my wife heard the same sounds and was very surprised. Father Denis scared her by saying the music warned of our child's death, and that music often comes to houses where someone is dying."

En/Pt When Emily heard this, she felt a superstitious fear she had never felt before. She could hardly hide how upset she was from St. Aubert.

En/Pt “But the boy lived, monsieur, despite Father Denis.”

En/Pt “Father Denis!” said St. Aubert, who had listened patiently to the old man’s story. “Are we near a convent, then?”

En/Pt “Yes, sir. The convent of St. Clair is not far away, on the seashore over there.”

En/Pt “Ah!” said St. Aubert, as if he had suddenly remembered something. “The convent of St. Clair!” Emily saw grief and a little fear gather on his face. His expression became still, and in the moonlight he looked like one of the marble statues on a tomb, bending in hopeless sorrow over the ashes of the dead.

En/Pt in the softened light that the dim moon gives through painted windows. *The Emigrants.

En/Pt Emily said, 'But dear sir, you need rest. If our host allows, I will make your bed. I know how you like it.' St. Aubert smiled and said she should not tire herself. La Voisin had been thinking about his story, but now he stood up and said sorry for not calling Agnes. Then he hurried out.

En/Pt A few moments later, he returned with his daughter, a young woman with a pleasant face. Emily then learned something she had not known before. To make room for them, part of La Voisin's family had to give up their beds. She felt sorry about this, but Agnes showed by her answer that she had at least some of her father's kind and polite hospitality. It was agreed that some of her children and Michael would sleep in the nearby cottage.

En/Pt St. Aubert said, 'If I feel better tomorrow, I want to leave early. We will rest during the hot part of the day and travel home. I cannot enjoy a longer journey now, and I want to reach La Vallee.' Emily wanted to go home too, but she was sad that her father wanted to return so suddenly. She thought he was more ill than he said. St. Aubert went to bed, and Emily went to her small room, but she could not sleep. She thought about the conversation about spirits after death. She feared her father would soon die. She leaned on the window and looked at the sky full of stars. She thought about God and the future. Everything was quiet. The dance had stopped, and everyone was home. The air was still. She heard only a sheep bell or a window closing. Then even those sounds stopped. She stayed at the window feeling deep emotion until midnight. The planet that La Voisin had pointed out sank below the trees. She remembered what he said about the planet and the mysterious music. She hoped and feared the music would return. She thought about how her father had reacted strongly to the death of the Marquis La Villeroi and the fate of the Marchioness. She was very curious because she had never heard him mention the name Villeroi before.

En/Pt No music came through the silent night. Emily saw how late it was, remembered that she must rise early, and left the window to rest after her long day.

Chapter VII

En/Pt Let those grieve for their fate whose hope stays low in this dark life. But noble hearts can look beyond the grave, can smile at fate, and wonder why others mourn. Will Spring never return to these sad places? Is that wave the sun's last resting place? Soon the east will shine again with new light, and Spring will soon give life again, fill the grove with sound, and dress the meadow in beauty! BEATTIE

En/Pt Emily woke early, as she had asked to be called. Sleep had not refreshed her, because upsetting dreams had troubled her. But when she opened her window and looked at the woods shining in the morning sun, and breathed the fresh air, she felt calmer. The morning was full of a bright freshness that seemed like health itself. She heard only pleasant and beautiful sounds: the morning bell of a distant convent, the soft sound of the sea, birds singing, and cattle moving slowly between the trees. The scene made her thoughtful and peaceful. She leaned at the window, waiting for St. Aubert to come down to breakfast, and her thoughts formed these lines:

En/Pt How nice to walk in the forest in the early morning, when the first light comes from the east and the landscape wakes up. The flowers that cried at night now lift their heads with tears, open their petals to the light, and give their smell to the air. The breeze brings the perfume and the songs of birds, the buzzing of bees, the woodman's song, and the distant sound of cows. The mountain top shines through the trees, and further away the sea with ships that catch the sunlight. But the forest, the spring breeze, the music, and the morning beauty are useless if health does not make the heart happy. O morning! You give health, spread your blush, and make the parent live!

En/Pt Emily heard people moving below in the cottage. Soon she heard Michael speaking to his mules as he led them out of a small hut nearby. When she left her room, St. Aubert, who was already up, met her at the door. He looked no more rested than she did. She guided him downstairs to the small parlour where they had eaten supper the night before. There they found a neat breakfast ready, while the host and his daughter stood waiting to greet them in the morning.

En/Pt St. Aubert said to them, "I envy you this cottage, my good friends. It is so pleasant, so quiet, and so clean. And this air we breathe - if anything could bring back lost health, it would surely be this air."

En/Pt La Voisin bowed with thanks and said politely, as a Frenchman would, that their cottage was honored by the visit. St. Aubert smiled at the kind words and sat down to breakfast with cream, fruit, fresh cheese, butter, and coffee. Emily saw that her father looked very ill, so she tried to persuade him to wait until afternoon before travelling. But he was eager to get home and said this many times. He said he felt as well as he had recently and could travel better in the cool morning. While he was speaking to his host and thanking him, Emily saw his face change. Before she could reach him, he fell back in his chair. He soon recovered from the sudden faintness, but he felt so ill that he knew he could not travel. After struggling for a short time, he asked to be helped upstairs to bed. Emily was terrified again, as she had been the night before. Even though she could barely stand, she tried to hide her fear from St. Aubert and gave him her trembling arm to help him to his room.

En/Pt When he was back in bed, he asked for Emily, who was crying in her own room. As she came in, he sent everyone else out. When they were alone, he held out his hand and looked at her with such love and sorrow that she broke down and wept hard. St. Aubert seemed to gather strength, but he still could not speak. He only pressed her hand and fought back his own tears. At last he found his voice. 'My dear child,' he said, trying to smile through his pain, 'my dear Emily!' He paused again. Then he looked up to heaven, as if praying, and said more firmly, with a father’s love and a saint’s serious calm, that he had sad truth to tell her, but he could not hide it. He said it would not be long before they must part, and they should speak of it so their thoughts and prayers could prepare them. His voice shook. Emily, still crying, held his hand to her heart and could only bow her head.

En/Pt 'Let me not waste these moments,' said St. Aubert, recovering himself. 'I have much to say. I must tell you something very serious, and I must also get a solemn promise from you. Then I shall feel calmer. You have seen how eager I am to reach home, but you do not know all my reasons. Listen to me. But first, before I say more, give me this promise, a promise to your dying father!' He was interrupted. Emily heard his last words and understood, for the first time, that he was in immediate danger. She lifted her head, stopped crying, and looked at him with unbearable pain. Then she was seized by a slight convulsion and fell senseless in her chair. St. Aubert’s cries brought La Voisin and his daughter into the room, and they did all they could to revive her, but for a long time nothing worked. When she recovered, St. Aubert was so weakened by what he had seen that he could not speak for several minutes. A cordial from Emily helped revive him. Then, alone with her again, he tried to calm her and give her comfort. She threw herself into his arms and wept on his neck. Her grief made her unable to hear what he said, so he stopped trying to comfort her and silently cried with her. At last, remembering her duty, she tried to spare him more pain. She left his arms, dried her tears, and said a few words meant to comfort him. St. Aubert replied that they must trust humbly in God, who had always protected and comforted them. He said God would not leave them now, and he felt that comfort in his heart. He told her that even if he left this world, he would still be in God’s presence. He asked her not to weep again. He said death was not strange, because all people are born to die, and it was not terrible for those who trust in an all-powerful God. If he had lived, he would soon have faced old age, weakness, loss, and sorrow, and then death would still have come. She should rather be glad that he would not suffer that, and that he could die with a clear mind, strengthened by faith and resignation. He stopped, tired from speaking. Emily tried again to look calm and answered in a way that she hoped would comfort him.

En/Pt After he had rested a little, he continued the talk. 'Let me return,' he said, 'to a subject that is very dear to my heart. I said I must get a solemn promise from you. Let me have it now, before I explain the main matter it concerns. There are other things you do not need to know, because your peace depends on it. Promise me, then, that you will do exactly what I ask.'

En/Pt Emily was moved by the serious way he spoke. She dried her tears, which had begun to fall again, and looked at St. Aubert with deep feeling. Then she promised to do whatever he asked. She made the vow with fear, though she did not know why she felt that way.

En/Pt He went on: 'I know you too well, my Emily, to think you would break any promise, especially one given so solemnly. Your promise gives me peace, and keeping it is very important for your happiness. Now listen. The closet beside my room at La Vallee has a sliding board in the floor. You will know it by a special knot in the wood, and by the fact that it is the next board, except one, to the wainscot facing the door. About a yard from that end, nearer the window, you will see a line across it, as if the plank had been joined. To open it, press your foot on the line. The end will sink, and you can slide it easily under the other board. Beneath it, you will find a hollow place.' St. Aubert paused to breathe, and Emily listened with complete attention. 'Do you understand, my dear?' he asked. Emily could hardly speak, but she told him that she did.

En/Pt 'When you return home, then,' he added with a deep sigh -

En/Pt When she heard him speak of returning home, she thought of all the sad things that would come with it. She broke into painful crying, and St. Aubert, who had been trying to stay strong, cried with her too. After a few moments, he composed himself. 'My dear child,' he said, 'be comforted. When I am gone, you will not be alone. I leave you in the closer care of Providence, which has never left me. Do not hurt me with such great sorrow. Rather, teach me by your example how to bear my own.' He stopped again, and Emily found it even harder to control her feelings.

En/Pt St. Aubert, now speaking with effort, returned to the subject. 'That closet, my dear, when you return home, go to it. Under the board I described, you will find a packet of papers. Listen carefully, because your promise applies especially to this. You must burn those papers, and I command you, solemnly, not to read them first.'

En/Pt Emily was so surprised that, for a moment, she forgot her grief and asked why this must be. St. Aubert said that if it had been right for him to explain, he would not have asked for such a strict promise. 'It is enough, my love, that you feel how important it is to obey me here.' He then went on. 'Under that board you will also find about two hundred louis d'ors in a silk purse. That secret place was made to protect any money in the chateau when the province was full of soldiers who used the trouble to become robbers.'

En/Pt But St. Aubert asked for one more promise: no matter what happened in the future, she must never SELL the chateau. He also told her that, if she married, she should make it part of the marriage contract that the chateau would always be hers. Then he explained his money situation in more detail. The two hundred louis, together with the money in his purse, was all the ready money he had to leave her. He said that he had already told her about his affairs with M. Motteville in Paris. 'My child,' he said after a long pause, 'I leave you poor, but not without support.' Emily could not answer. She knelt beside his bed, put her face on the coverlet, and wept while holding his hand.

En/Pt After this talk, St. Aubert seemed calmer. But he was very tired and soon fell into a light sleep. Emily stayed beside him, watching and crying, until a gentle knock at the door woke her. It was La Voisin, who said that a confessor from the nearby convent was waiting below to see St. Aubert. Emily did not want her father disturbed, so she asked that the priest should not leave the cottage. When St. Aubert woke, he was confused for a time and did not at once know Emily. Then he moved his lips and reached out his hand. When she took it, she sank back in her chair, shocked by the look of death on his face. A few minutes later he could speak again. Emily asked whether he wished to see the confessor. He said yes, and when the holy father came in, she left the room. They stayed alone together for more than half an hour. When Emily was called back, she found St. Aubert more upset than before. She looked at the friar with a little anger, thinking he had caused this. But he looked at her kindly and sadly, and turned away. In a weak voice, St. Aubert asked her to pray with him and also asked whether La Voisin would join them. The old man and his daughter came in. They both wept and knelt with Emily around the bed while the holy father read the prayers for the dying. St. Aubert lay quietly and seemed to pray with all his heart. Tears often came under his closed eyelids, and Emily's sobs several times broke the service.

En/Pt When the service ended and extreme unction had been given, the friar left. St. Aubert then called La Voisin nearer. He gave him his hand and was silent for a moment. At last he said, in a shaking voice, that their friendship had been short, but long enough for La Voisin to show him much kindness. He trusted that this kindness would be shown to Emily after he was gone, because she would need it. He asked him to look after her during the few days she would stay there. He said no more was needed, because La Voisin knew the feelings of a father and had children of his own. His own heart would be very hard if he had less trust in him. La Voisin promised, with tears that showed he meant it, that he would do all he could to ease Emily's sorrow. If St. Aubert wished, he would even go with her into Gascony. This offer pleased St. Aubert so much that he could hardly find words to thank him or to say that he accepted. What happened next between St. Aubert and Emily moved La Voisin deeply, and he left the room. Emily was again alone with her father. His strength seemed to be fading fast, but his mind and voice were still clear. In these last solemn moments, he often gave her advice for her future life. He perhaps never thought more wisely or spoke more clearly than he did then.

En/Pt Above all, my dear Emily, he said, do not be proud of deep feeling, the romantic mistake of kind hearts. People who truly feel deeply should learn early that this can be dangerous. It makes them take too much sorrow or too much joy from everything around them. In life, painful things happen more often than pleasant ones, and I fear we feel evil more strongly than good. So we become slaves to our emotions unless we learn to control them somewhat. I know you may say, because you are young, that sometimes you would rather suffer than give up your refined idea of happiness. But after long trouble and change, you will want rest, and then you will see that you were mistaken. You will understand that the dream of happiness is replaced by real happiness. True happiness comes from peace, not from excitement. It is calm and steady, and it cannot live in a heart that is always moved by every small event, any more than in a heart that feels nothing. You see, then, that I want to protect you from the danger of too much feeling, but I do not defend coldness. At your age, I would have said that coldness is worse than any mistake of feeling, and I still think so. I call it a vice because it leads to real harm. But uncontrolled feeling can also be called a vice for the same reason. Still, coldness is worse for everyone. I have worn myself out,' said St. Aubert weakly, 'and I have tired you, my Emily. But this matter is so important for your future peace that I want to be clearly understood.'

En/Pt Emily told him that his advice was precious to her and that she would never forget it or stop trying to follow it. St. Aubert smiled at her with love and sadness. He said again that he did not want her to become without feeling, if he could help it. He only wanted to warn her about the harm caused by being too easily moved, and to show her how to avoid it. 'Beware,' he said, 'of the false pride that has ruined the peace of many people. Do not be proud of being sensitive. If you give in to that vanity, you will lose your happiness forever. Always remember that strength and courage are more valuable than the grace of feeling. But do not confuse courage with coldness; coldness cannot know virtue. Remember also that one act of kindness, one truly useful deed, is worth more than all the feelings in the world. Feeling is a shame, not an ornament, unless it leads us to good actions. The miser who thinks himself worthy because he has money, and mistakes the power to do good for actually doing good, is no more blameworthy than the person who has sentiment without active virtue. You may have seen people who enjoy this kind of feeling so much that they ignore practical duty. They turn away from the distressed, and because the sight of suffering hurts them, they do nothing to help. How poor is that humanity which is content only to pity when it could relieve!'

En/Pt Later, St. Aubert spoke about Madame Cheron, his sister. 'Let me tell you something that matters a great deal to your future,' he said. 'As you know, we have had little contact for some years. But now she is your only female relation, so in my will I have given you into her care until you are of age. After that, I have asked her to protect you. She is not the person I would have chosen for my Emily, but I had no other choice, and I believe she is, on the whole, a good and kind woman. I do not need to tell you to try to win her good will, my love. You will do that for the sake of the father who has often wished to do the same for you.'

En/Pt Emily promised that she would faithfully do everything he asked, to the best of her ability. Then she cried, 'Alas! Soon that will be all I have left to do. It will be almost my only comfort to carry out your wishes.'

En/Pt St. Aubert looked at her without speaking, as if he wanted to say more, but his strength failed, and his eyes grew heavy and dull. That look touched Emily deeply. 'My dear father!' she cried, and then she stopped herself, pressed his hand more tightly, and hid her face in her handkerchief. She tried to hide her tears, but St. Aubert heard her shaking sobs. His strength came back for a moment. 'O my child,' he said faintly, 'let my comfort be yours. I die in peace, because I know I am going back to my Father, who will still be your Father after I am gone. Always trust in him, my love, and he will support you now, as he supports me.'

En/Pt Emily could only listen and weep. But his calm manner, and the faith and hope he showed, eased her pain a little. Still, whenever she looked at his thin face and saw death growing stronger there, whenever she saw his hollow eyes still fixed on her and his heavy eyelids falling closed, she felt a pain in her heart that cannot be described. Yet a daughter as good as Emily needed great self-control not to show it.

En/Pt He asked once more for a blessing. 'Where are you, my dear?' he said, reaching out his hands. Emily had turned toward the window so he would not see how much she was suffering. Now she understood that he could no longer see her. After he gave her his blessing, and after this last effort of life seemed to be ending, he sank back on his pillow. She kissed his forehead. The cold sweat of death was already there, and for a moment she forgot her courage, so that her tears fell with it. St. Aubert raised his eyes. The feeling of a father came back into them for an instant, but soon it was gone, and he said no more.

En/Pt St. Aubert lived until about three in the afternoon. He slowly sank into death and died without a struggle or a sigh.

En/Pt Emily was taken from the room by La Voisin and his daughter, who tried to comfort her. The old man sat with her and cried. Agnes was more wrongly helpful than kind.

Chapter VIII

En/Pt Over the man whose sad fate your virtues grieve, airy forms shall sit in the evening and bow their thoughtful heads. COLLINS

En/Pt The monk who had come before returned that evening to comfort Emily. He brought a kind message from the lady abbess, inviting her to the convent. Emily did not accept, but she sent back a reply full of thanks. The friar spoke gently, and his calm kindness was much like St. Aubert's. His words eased her great sorrow and lifted her thoughts to God, who sees all places and all time. He sees this small world as if it were only a moment's shadow. He sees at once the soul that has left the body and the soul that still remains in it. 'In the sight of God,' said Emily, 'my dear father still lives as truly as he did yesterday for me. To me only is he dead; to God and to himself he yet lives!'

En/Pt The good monk left her calmer than she had been since St. Aubert died. Before she went to her small cabin for the night, she was brave enough to visit the body. She stood beside it in silence and did not cry. The calm face showed what the last moments of life had been like in the now empty body. For a moment she turned away in fear at the stillness of that face, which she had never seen except alive. Then she looked again, torn between doubt and terrible surprise. She could hardly believe that this beloved face could no longer feel anything. She kept staring wildly, took the cold hand, spoke to him, stared again, and then broke into deep grief. La Voisin heard her sobs and came in to lead her away, but she heard nothing and only asked him to leave her alone.

En/Pt Left alone again, she cried for a long time. When evening darkened the room and almost hid the body from view, she still bent over it. At last her strength was gone, and she became calmer. La Voisin knocked again and asked her to come to the common room. Before she left, she kissed St. Aubert's lips, as she used to do when she wished him good night. She kissed them again. Her heart felt ready to break. A few tears came to her eyes. She looked up to heaven, then at St. Aubert, and left the room.

En/Pt When she returned to her lonely cabin, her sad thoughts still stayed near her dead father. Even in a half-sleep, the things she had thought while awake still filled her mind. She dreamed that her father came toward her with a kind face. Then he smiled sadly and pointed upward. His lips moved, but instead of words she heard sweet music in the distance. Soon his face seemed to shine with the gentle joy of a higher being. The music grew louder, and she woke. The vision was gone, but the music still reached her ears like sounds from angels. She was unsure, listened, sat up, and listened again. It was real music, not an illusion. After a solemn harmony, it stopped, then began again in mournful sweetness, and then faded in a final note that seemed to lift the listening soul to heaven. She remembered the music from the night before and La Voisin's strange story, and the sad talk about departed spirits. Now all that St. Aubert had said on that subject came back to her and overwhelmed her. What a change in only a few hours! He, who had only guessed before, now knew the truth and had himself become one of the departed. As she listened, she felt cold with fearful awe, and her tears stopped. She got up and went to the window. Outside all was dark, but when she turned from the heavy black woods on the horizon, she saw on the left the bright planet St. Aubert had pointed out, setting over the woods. She remembered what he had said about it. The music now came at intervals, so she opened the window to listen and tried to find where it came from. The darkness kept her from seeing anything on the green ground below, and the sounds grew fainter and fainter until they became silent. She listened, but they did not return. Soon after, she saw the planet tremble between the top leaves of the woods, and then sink behind them. Filled with sad awe, she went back to bed and at last forgot her grief for a while in sleep.

En/Pt The next morning, a nun from the convent visited her with kind help and another invitation from the lady abbess. Emily could not leave the cottage while her father's remains were still there, but she agreed to visit the abbess in the evening, even though it would be painful for her in her sad state.

En/Pt About an hour before sunset, La Voisin showed her the path through the woods to the convent. It stood in a small bay of the Mediterranean, surrounded by trees. If Emily had been less unhappy, she would have admired the wide sea view from the green slope in front of the building, and the rich land on both sides with woods and fields. But now one sad thought filled her mind, and nature seemed to have no color or shape. The bell for evening prayer rang as she passed through the old gate of the convent, and it sounded to her like a funeral bell for St. Aubert. Small things can affect a mind weakened by sorrow. Emily fought against a sick faintness, and was led to the abbess, who received her with a mother's tenderness. Her gentle care touched Emily at once, and tears filled her eyes. She tried to speak, but could not. The abbess led her to a seat, sat beside her, held her hand, and waited in silence while Emily dried her tears. 'Be calm, my daughter,' said the abbess softly. 'Do not speak yet. I know all you would say. Your spirits must be soothed. We are going to prayers. Will you join our evening service? It is comforting, my child, to look up in our sorrow to a father who sees and pities us, and who corrects us in his mercy.'

En/Pt Emily cried again, but many sweet feelings came with her tears. The abbess let her weep without interruption and watched her with a look of kindness that was like a guardian angel. When Emily was calmer, she was urged to speak freely and explain why she did not want to leave the cottage. The abbess did not even suggest that she should go. Instead, she praised her loving duty to her father and hoped she would stay a few days at the convent before returning to La Vallee. 'You must give yourself a little time to recover from your first shock, my daughter, before you face a second,' she said. 'I will not hide from you how deeply your heart must suffer when you return to the place of your former happiness. Here you will have rest, sympathy, and religion to help restore your spirits. But come,' she added, seeing Emily's eyes fill with tears again, 'we will go to the chapel.'

En/Pt Emily followed her to the parlour, where the nuns were gathered. The abbess left Emily in their care and said, “This is a daughter I respect very much; be sisters to her.”

En/Pt They went in a line to the chapel. The serious way the service was said lifted Emily’s spirit and gave her comfort and peace.

En/Pt Evening came before the abbess would let Emily leave. She left the convent with a much lighter heart than when she had entered it. La Voisin led her back through the woods, whose sad darkness matched her own mood. Emily went along the small wild path in quiet thought. Then her guide suddenly stopped, looked around, and turned off into the tall grass, saying he had taken the wrong road. He walked on quickly, and Emily had trouble following over the dark, uneven ground. He was soon far ahead. Emily called out to him, but he seemed unwilling to stop and kept hurrying on. “If you are unsure of the way,” said Emily, “should we not ask at the chateau over there, between the trees?”

En/Pt “No,” answered La Voisin. “There is no need. When we reach that brook, ma'amselle” - he pointed to the light on the water beyond the woods - “we will be home soon. I do not know how I made the mistake. I rarely come this way after sunset.”

En/Pt “It is lonely enough,” said Emily, “but you have no bandits here.”

“No, ma'amselle - no bandits.”

En/Pt “What are you afraid of, then, my good friend? You are not superstitious, are you?” “No, not superstitious; but, to tell you the truth, lady, nobody likes to go near that chateau after dark.” “Who lives there,” Emily asked, “that makes it seem so frightening?” “Why, ma'amselle, hardly anyone lives there now. Our lord the Marquis, master of these fine woods too, is dead. He had not been there for many years, and the people who look after it live in a cottage near by.” Emily now understood that this was the chateau La Voisin had once pointed out as belonging to the Marquis Villeroi, and that her father had seemed deeply moved when it was mentioned.

En/Pt “Ah! It is a lonely place now,” La Voisin went on, “and it used to be such a grand place, as I remember.” Emily asked what had caused this sad change, but the old man said nothing. Emily was interested by the fear he had shown, and even more by her memory of her father’s distress, so she asked again: “If you are not afraid of the people there, my good friend, and you are not superstitious, why do you fear to pass near that chateau in the dark?”

En/Pt “Perhaps I am a little superstitious, ma'amselle. And if you knew what I know, you might be too. Strange things have happened there. Monsieur, your good father, seemed to know the late Marchioness.” “Please tell me what happened,” said Emily, deeply moved.

En/Pt “Alas, ma'amselle,” answered La Voisin, “do not ask more. It is not for me to reveal my lord’s family secrets.” Emily was surprised by his words and the way he said them, so she did not ask again. Instead, her thoughts turned to St. Aubert. She then remembered the music she had heard the night before and told La Voisin about it. “You were not alone in hearing it, ma'amselle,” he replied. “I heard it too, but I have heard it so often at the same hour that I was hardly surprised.”

En/Pt Emily suddenly said, 'You surely think this music is connected with the chateau, and so you are superstitious.' 'It may be so, ma'amselle,' he answered, 'but there are other things about that chateau which I remember, and sadly too.' He sighed deeply. Emily was too careful to push her questions further, so she said no more.

En/Pt When she reached the cottage, her grief came back with full force. It was as if she had only escaped it while she was away from the thing that caused it. She went at once to the room where her father's body lay and gave herself over to painful sorrow. At last La Voisin persuaded her to leave the room. She went to her own room, and, worn out by the day's suffering, soon fell into a deep sleep. When she woke, she felt much better.

En/Pt When the sad hour came for St. Aubert's remains to be taken from her forever, Emily went alone to the room to look on his face one last time. La Voisin had waited below until her despair lessened, but when her stay grew too long, he became worried and went to bring her out. He knocked gently and got no answer. He listened, but all was quiet. Then he opened the door and found Emily senseless on the floor near the bed, beside the coffin. After calls for help, she was taken to her room, and medicine and care finally brought her back.

En/Pt While Emily was still faint, La Voisin ordered the coffin to be closed. He also persuaded her not to go back to the room. She knew she was too weak for it, and she also saw that she must save her strength for the coming burial. St. Aubert had asked to be buried in the church of the convent of St. Clair, near the ancient tomb of the Villerois, and he had pointed out the exact place. The superior allowed it, and the sad funeral procession moved there. At the gates, a respected priest and a group of friars met them. The solemn hymn and the organ moved all who heard them, and Emily's weak steps and calm face drew tears from many eyes. She herself did not cry. She walked between two people who supported her, with a thin black veil over part of her face. The abbess walked before her, and the nuns followed, singing mournfully. When they reached the grave, the music stopped. Emily pulled the veil fully over her face, and her sobs could be heard during a pause in the service. She controlled herself again until the coffin was lowered and she heard the earth fall on its lid. Then she shuddered and cried out in pain, leaning on the person beside her. Soon she calmed a little, and when she heard the words, 'His body is buried in peace, and his soul returns to Him that gave it,' her sorrow softened into tears.

En/Pt The abbess took Emily from the church into her own room and gave her all the comfort that religion and kind sympathy could offer. Emily fought against her grief, but the abbess watched her carefully and ordered a bed to be prepared. She urged Emily to rest. She also kindly reminded her of her promise to stay at the convent for a few days. Emily did not wish to return to the cottage, where she had suffered so much, and now that no urgent duty remained, she felt how weak and unwell she was and knew she could not travel at once.

En/Pt In the meantime, the abbess's motherly care and the gentle attention of the nuns did everything possible to soothe Emily and help her health return. But her health had been deeply hurt through her mind, so she could not recover quickly. She stayed at the convent for some weeks with a slow fever. She wanted to go home, yet she could not. At times, she even hated to leave the place where her father's remains were laid. Sometimes she comforted herself by thinking that if she died there, she would rest beside St. Aubert. She wrote to Madame Cheron and the old housekeeper to tell them of the sad event and her own condition. Her aunt replied with ordinary words of sympathy, but little real feeling. She said a servant would be sent to take Emily to La Vallee, because she was too busy with guests to make the long trip herself. Emily may have preferred La Vallee to Tholouse, but she could not help seeing how rude and unkind it was to send her back there without any relative to protect or comfort her. This was even worse because St. Aubert had made Madame Cheron the guardian of his orphan daughter.

En/Pt Madame Cheron's servant made La Voisin's help unnecessary. Emily felt grateful to him for all his kind care for her father and for herself, and she was glad to save him from a long journey, which would have been hard for a man of his age.

En/Pt During her stay at the convent, the peace inside it, the quiet beauty outside, and the gentle care of the abbess and the nuns comforted Emily so much that she almost wished to leave the world that had taken away her dearest friends and live in the convent beside St. Aubert's grave. Her thoughtful and dreamy nature also gave her a beautiful view of a nun's holy retirement, which hid from her the selfish side of such safety. But these sad, half-superstitious feelings began to fade as her spirits improved, and her heart welcomed again a memory that had only been pushed away for a short time. This memory brought hope, comfort, and loving feelings. Far away, she could almost see happiness, and although she knew these hopes might be false, she could not decide to shut them out forever. Perhaps it was the memory of Valancourt, his taste, his talent, and the face that showed both, that finally made her choose to return to the world. The greatness and beauty of the places where they first met had stirred her imagination and made Valancourt seem more interesting, as if some of that beauty belonged to him too. St. Aubert's repeated praise of him also approved this feeling. Still, although his face and manner clearly showed admiration for her, he had never spoken plainly. Even the hope of seeing him again was so far away that she hardly noticed it, much less felt that it guided her actions now.

En/Pt Several days passed after Madame Cheron's servant arrived before Emily was well enough to travel to La Vallee. On the evening before her departure, she went to the cottage to say goodbye to La Voisin and his family and to thank them. She found the old man sitting on a bench at the door, between his daughter and his son-in-law, who had just returned from work and was playing a pipe that sounded a little like an oboe. A bottle of wine stood beside the old man, and in front of him was a small table with fruit and bread. Around it stood several of his grandsons, rosy little children, eating supper as their mother gave it out. On the edge of the small green near the cottage, cattle and a few sheep were resting under the trees. The evening sun gave the scene a soft light, and long rays shone through the woods and lit the distant towers of the chateau. Emily paused before leaving the shade and looked at the happy family group, at La Voisin's calm and healthy old age, at Agnes's loving care for her children, and at the children themselves, whose smiles showed their simple joy. Then she looked again at the old man and the cottage, and memory of her father came back strongly. Afraid to stop any longer, she quickly stepped forward. She said goodbye to La Voisin and his family with feeling. He seemed to love her like a daughter and cried, and Emily cried many tears too. She did not go into the cottage, because she knew it would stir up feelings she could not bear.

En/Pt One more painful task still waited for Emily. She decided to visit her father's grave again. To avoid being disturbed or watched while she gave way to her grief, she waited until everyone in the convent was asleep except the nun who had promised to bring her the church key. Emily stayed in her room until the convent bell struck twelve. Then the nun came with the key to a private door that opened into the church, and they went down the narrow winding stair together. The nun offered to go with Emily to the grave, saying, 'It is sad to go alone at this hour.' But Emily thanked her and would not allow anyone to see her sorrow. The sister unlocked the door and gave her the lamp. She reminded Emily that there was a newly opened grave in the east aisle, and told her to keep the light low so she would not trip over the loose earth. Emily thanked her again, took the lamp, and entered the church. Sister Mariette then left. But Emily stopped at the door. Fear suddenly came over her, and she went back to the bottom of the stairs. As she heard the nun's steps going up and saw her black veil move over the spiral rails, she almost called her back. Then the veil disappeared, and ashamed of her fear, she returned to the church. The cold air of the aisles chilled her, and the great dark space, lit only a little by moonlight from a distant Gothic window, would at another time have frightened her with superstition. But now grief filled her mind. She hardly noticed the soft echoes of her own steps or thought of the open grave until she was almost at its edge. A friar had been buried there the evening before, and while she had sat alone in her room at dusk, she had heard the monks singing the prayer for his soul. This brought back the details of her father's death. The voices, with the low sound of the organ, had once filled her with dark and moving thoughts. Now she remembered them, and as she turned aside to avoid the broken ground, she hurried on toward St. Aubert's grave. In the moonlight across part of the aisle, she thought she saw a shadow moving between the pillars. She stopped to listen, heard no footsteps, and believed her imagination had fooled her. No longer afraid of being seen, she went on. St. Aubert lay under a plain marble stone with little more than his name and the dates of his birth and death, near the foot of the grand monument of the Villerois. Emily stayed at the grave until the bell for early prayers told the monks to leave. Then she wept there one last farewell and forced herself away. After this sad comfort, she slept more deeply than she had for a long time, and when she woke, she felt calmer and more resigned than she had since St. Aubert's death.

En/Pt But when the time came for her to leave the convent, her grief returned. She felt attached to the place because of the dead and the kindness of the living. The place where her father's remains were buried seemed to her like home. The abbess gave her many kind words and asked her to come back if she was unhappy elsewhere. Many of the nuns were also truly sorry to see her go. Emily left the convent in tears, with sincere wishes for her happiness.

En/Pt She travelled several leagues before the countryside around her could lift her from her deep sadness, even for a moment. When it did, it only reminded her that St. Aubert had been beside her when she last saw those places, and of the things he had said about similar views. So the day passed quietly, with no special event, in sadness and weakness. She slept that night in a town near the edge of Languedoc, and the next morning she entered Gascony.

En/Pt Near the end of the day, Emily saw the plains near La Vallee, and old sights from the past began to catch her attention. With them came memories that filled her with tenderness and grief. As she looked through her tears at the wild beauty of the Pyrenees, now bright with evening light and shadow, she remembered how her father had shared that pleasure with her the last time she saw them. Then some place he had especially shown her would appear before her, and despair would sink into her heart. 'There!' she would cry. 'There are the cliffs, and there is the pine wood he loved when we passed here for the last time. There, under that mountain, is the cottage among the cedars that he told me to remember and draw. O my father, shall I never see you again!'

En/Pt As she came closer to the chateau, the sad reminders of the past grew more and more. At last the chateau itself appeared in the bright beauty of St. Aubert's favourite landscape. This was a sight that needed strength, not tears. Emily dried her eyes and prepared to meet the painful moment of returning to a home where no parent would welcome her. 'Yes,' she said, 'let me not forget the lessons he taught me! He often showed me that even good sorrow must be resisted. We often admired the greatness of a mind that can suffer and still reason. O my father! if you can look down on your child, you will be glad to see that she remembers your teachings and tries to follow them.'

En/Pt A turn in the road gave her a closer view of the chateau. Its chimneys, lit by the evening light, rose from behind St. Aubert's favourite oaks, whose leaves hid part of the house. Emily could not stop a heavy sigh. 'This, too, was his favourite hour,' she said, looking at the long evening shadows across the land. 'How peaceful it is, how beautiful! Beautiful and calm, as it was in the past.'

En/Pt She fought against her sadness again, until the sound of the lively dance reached her. She had so often heard it while walking with St. Aubert beside the Garonne that her courage broke. She kept crying until the carriage stopped at the little gate that opened to what was now her own land. When the carriage suddenly stopped, she looked up and saw her father's old housekeeper coming to open the gate. Manchon also ran up, barking. When his young mistress got out, he fawned on her and danced around her, breathing fast with joy.

En/Pt 'Dear ma'amselle!' said Theresa. She stopped, as if she wanted to comfort Emily, but Emily was too upset to answer. The dog still fawned and ran around her, then rushed to the carriage with short, quick barks. 'Ah, ma'amselle! My poor master!' said Theresa, whose feelings were stronger than her shyness. 'Manchon has gone to look for him.' Emily cried out. Looking toward the open carriage door, she saw the dog jump in, then jump out at once, and run around the horses with his nose to the ground.

En/Pt 'Don't cry so, ma'amselle,' said Theresa. 'It breaks my heart to see you.' The dog ran to Emily, then back to the carriage, then back to her again, whining sadly. 'Poor creature!' said Theresa. 'You have lost your master, so you may well cry. But come, my dear young lady, be brave. What can I get you to make you feel better?' Emily gave her hand to the old servant and tried to hold back her grief, while she kindly asked about Theresa's health. But she still stayed in the path to the chateau, because there was no one inside to welcome her with love. Her heart no longer leapt with happy hope at a familiar smile, and she feared the things inside that would bring back full memories of her former happiness. She walked slowly toward the door, stopped, went on, and stopped again. The chateau seemed silent, abandoned, and lonely. Afraid to enter, but blaming herself for delaying, she finally went into the hall. She crossed it quickly, as if afraid to look around, and opened the door of the room she used to call her own. The evening darkness made the quiet, empty room seem more solemn. The chairs, the tables, and every piece of furniture, so familiar in happier days, spoke deeply to her heart. Without noticing it at first, she sat by a window that looked onto the garden, where St. Aubert had often sat with her, watching the sun set over the wide view beyond the trees.

En/Pt After crying for some time, she became calmer. When Theresa came back after putting the luggage in her lady's room, Emily had recovered enough to speak with her.

En/Pt 'I have made up the green bed for you, ma'amselle,' said Theresa, putting the coffee on the table. 'I thought you would like it better than your own for now. But I never thought, a month ago, that you would come back alone. Oh, the news almost broke my heart when it arrived. Who would have believed that my poor master, when he left home, would never return?' Emily hid her face with her handkerchief and waved her hand.

En/Pt "Please taste the coffee," said Theresa. "Dear young lady, take comfort. We all must die. My dear master is a saint above." Emily took the handkerchief from her face and looked up to heaven with tears in her eyes. Soon after, she dried them and, in a calm but shaky voice, began to ask about some of her late father's pensioners.

En/Pt "Alas!" said Theresa, as she poured the coffee and gave it to her mistress. "Everyone who could come has been here every day to ask after you and my master." She then said that some people who had been well when they left were now dead, while others who had been ill had recovered. "And look, miss," she added, "old Mary is coming up the garden now. For three years she has looked as if she would die, yet she is still alive. She has seen the carriage at the door and knows you are home."

En/Pt The sight of this poor old woman would have been too much for Emily, so she asked Theresa to go and tell her that she was too ill to see anyone that night. "Tomorrow I may be better, perhaps; but give her this sign that I remember her."

En/Pt Emily sat for some time, filled with sorrow. Everything she saw brought back a memory, and each memory led to her grief. Her favorite plants, which St. Aubert had taught her to care for; the small drawings in the room, which his taste had taught her to make; the books he had chosen for her and that they had read together; her music instruments, whose sounds he loved and sometimes played himself - all of them made her sadness stronger. At last she forced herself to rise. She gathered all her courage and went toward those sad rooms. She feared to enter them, but she knew they would affect her even more if she waited longer.

En/Pt After passing through the greenhouse, she lost her courage for a moment when she opened the library door. The evening light and the leaves near the windows made the room seem even more serious, and everything in it reminded her of her father. There was his armchair, and she shuddered when she saw it, because she had so often seen him sitting there. His image came so clearly to her mind that she almost thought he was before her. She controlled these fearful thoughts, though she still felt awe. She walked slowly to the chair and sat down in it. A reading desk stood before it, and an open book lay on it, just as her father had left it. She took some time before she dared to look at it. When she did, she remembered how St. Aubert had read passages from that favorite author to her on the evening before he left the chateau. This moved her deeply. She looked at the page, wept, and looked again. The book seemed holy and priceless to her. She would not have moved it or closed the page for all the riches of India. She remained there, unable to leave, even as the room grew darker and quieter. Her thoughts turned to the state of the dead, and she remembered the sad conversation between St. Aubert and La Voisin on the night before he died.

En/Pt As she sat thinking, she saw the door slowly open, and a rustling sound in a far part of the room startled her. In the dim light, she thought she saw something move. Her earlier thoughts and her unhappy mood made her imagination accept every small sign, and she suddenly feared something supernatural. She sat still for a moment. Then her calmer reason returned, and she said, "What should I fear? If the spirits of those we love return to us, it is out of kindness."

En/Pt The silence made her ashamed of her fear, and she thought her imagination had tricked her, or that she had heard one of those strange noises that sometimes happen in old houses. But the same sound came again. She saw something moving toward her, and then beside her into the chair. She screamed, but her fear disappeared at once when she saw that it was Manchon. He sat by her and licked her hands affectionately.

En/Pt When she saw that she was too upset to visit the empty rooms of the chateau that night, she left the library and walked into the garden, then down to the terrace above the river. The sun had set, but under the dark almond trees she could still see the yellow glow of the west, beyond the fading twilight. A bat flew silently past, and from time to time she heard the sad song of a nightingale. The hour made her remember some lines she had once heard St. Aubert recite in that very place, and she now found a sad kind of comfort in repeating them.

En/Pt SONNET Now the bat circles in the evening breeze. The breeze creeps in shivering fits along the wave. It trembles through the woods and through the cave, whose lonely sighs deceive the wanderer. For often, when sadness charms his mind, he thinks he hears the Spirit of the rock. He listens, with sweet and thrilling fear, to the low, mystic murmurs of the wind. Now the bat circles, and the twilight dew falls silently around. Over the mountain-cliff, the gleaming wave, and the far-off skiff, it spreads a gray veil of soft, harmonious hue. So the dew of pity's tear falls over Grief, and dims her lonely visions of despair.

En/Pt Emily wandered on and came to St. Aubert's favorite plane-tree, where they had often sat together in its shade at this hour. She and her dear mother had also often spoken there about life after death. Her father had often said how much comfort he felt in believing that they would meet again in another world. These memories overwhelmed Emily, and she left the plane-tree. She leaned sadly against the terrace wall and saw a group of peasants dancing happily on the banks of the Garonne below. The river was wide and reflected the evening light. They were a cheerful sight, unlike the lonely and unhappy Emily. They were bright and friendly, as they had often been when she was happy too, and when St. Aubert listened to their lively music with a face full of pleasure and kindness. Emily looked at them for a moment, then turned away because the memory was too painful. But where could she turn without finding something else to deepen her sorrow?

En/Pt As she walked slowly toward the house, Theresa met her. “Dear ma’amselle,” she said, “I have been looking for you for half an hour, and I was afraid something had happened to you. How can you like to walk about in the night air? Please come into the house. Think what my poor master would have said if he could see you. I am sure he took my dear lady’s death very hard, though you know he seldom cried.”

En/Pt “Please, Theresa, stop,” said Emily, wishing to cut short this unwise but kind speech. But Theresa was not easy to silence. “And when you used to grieve so,” she said, “he often told you that you were wrong, because my mistress was happy. And if she was happy, I am sure he is too, for they say the prayers of the poor reach heaven.” While she spoke, Emily had quietly gone into the chateau, and Theresa lit her across the hall into the common sitting room, where she had set the table for supper with only one knife and fork. Emily was already in the room before she saw that it was not her own. Still, she held back her feelings and sat quietly by the little supper table. Her father’s hat hung on the wall opposite her. When she looked at it, she felt weak and faint. Theresa saw her looking at it and moved to take it away, but Emily waved her hand. “No,” she said, “let it stay. I am going to my room.” “But, ma’amselle, supper is ready.” “I cannot eat,” Emily answered. “I will go to my room and try to sleep. Tomorrow I shall feel better.”

En/Pt “This is sad,” said Theresa. “Dear lady, please eat something! I have cooked a pheasant, and it is a fine one. Old Monsieur Barreaux sent it this morning, because I saw him yesterday and told him you were coming. And I know no one who seemed more upset when he heard the sad news than he did.”

En/Pt “Did he?” said Emily, in a tender voice, and for a moment her poor heart felt warmer because of this small sign of sympathy.

En/Pt At last, she was completely overcome by grief and went to her room.

Chapter IX

En/Pt Can the voice of Music, the eye of Beauty, or the glowing hand of Painting give a charm as suited to my mind as this hollow gust of wind? Can they match this little weeping stream, tinkling softly down the moss-grown hill? In the west the crimson day sinks low. There meek Twilight slowly sails and waves her gray banners. MASON

En/Pt Some time after Emily returned to La Vallee, she received letters from her aunt, Madame Cheron. After some usual words of sympathy and advice, Madame Cheron invited her to Tholouse and added that, since her late brother had trusted Emily’s education to her, she must watch over Emily’s conduct. At this time, Emily wanted only to stay at La Vallee, among the places where she had once been happy and which were now dearer to her because they had been the home of those she had lost forever. There she could weep unseen, walk again in memory along their paths, and remember every small part of their lives. But she also feared making Madame Cheron angry.

En/Pt Though her love for St. Aubert made her sure he had chosen Madame Cheron wisely as her guardian, she still knew that this choice meant her happiness depended greatly on her aunt’s mood. In her reply, she asked to stay for the present at La Vallee. She said she was deeply sad and needed peace and quiet to recover. She knew she would not find that at Madame Cheron’s house, where life was full of pleasure and spending, and her large fortune encouraged this way of life. After sending her answer, she felt somewhat calmer.

En/Pt In the first days of her sorrow, Monsieur Barreaux came to visit her. He was a true mourner for St. Aubert. “I have every reason to miss my friend,” he said, “for I shall never meet another like him. If I had found such a man in society, I would never have left it.”

En/Pt M. Barreaux’s admiration for her father made Emily like him very much. Talking with a man she respected so highly gave her one of the first comforts she felt. She could speak of her parents with him, and he had such a good heart and such a gentle mind, even if he did not look pleasant at first.

En/Pt Several weeks passed in quiet life, and Emily's pain changed into deep sadness. She could again read the books she had once read with her father, sit in his chair in the library, watch the flowers he had planted, and play the instrument he had touched. Sometimes she even played his favourite tune.

En/Pt After the first shock of grief passed, Emily saw the danger of laziness. She knew that only activity could help her recover, so she tried to spend every hour doing something useful. Now she understood how valuable St. Aubert's education was. He had trained her mind so that she could avoid idleness without needing a busy social life. He had also given her rich interests and knowledge, even though she was cut off from people. His teaching did more than help herself. He had grown all the good feelings in her heart, so now she felt kindness toward everyone around her. When she could not remove other people's troubles, she could at least make them lighter with sympathy and gentleness. She learned to care for all who suffered.

En/Pt Madame Cheron did not answer Emily's letter, and Emily began to hope that she could stay in her quiet retreat a little longer. Her mind had recovered enough to let her visit places that brought back strong memories. One of these was the fishing-house. To deepen the sad pleasure of the visit, she took her lute there so she could hear again the sounds that St. Aubert and her mother had loved. She went alone in the calm evening, a time that soothes both the mind and grief. The last time she had been there, she had been with Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert, only a few days before Madame St. Aubert fell ill and died. Now, as Emily entered the woods around the building, the memories came back so strongly that she broke down at once. She stopped, leaned against a tree, and cried for several minutes before she could go on. The path to the building was covered with grass, and the flowers St. Aubert had scattered along the edge were nearly hidden by weeds. She often stopped to look at the sad, deserted place. When she opened the door with a trembling hand, she said, 'Ah! everything remains as when I left it last, left it with those who must never return!' She went to a window above the stream and looked down at the water, lost in sorrowful thought. The lute beside her was forgotten. The sighing of the wind in the tall pines and its soft sounds among the willows by the bank matched her feelings. It comforted her like pity itself. She kept thinking, not noticing the darkening evening or the last sunlight on the hills, until a sudden footstep outside startled her. At once she remembered that she was alone and unprotected. Then a door opened and a stranger appeared. He stopped when he saw Emily and began to apologize for coming in. But Emily heard his voice and her fear changed into a stronger feeling. His voice was familiar, and though the light was too dim for her to see his face clearly, she felt sure enough to trust the memory.

En/Pt He repeated his apology, and Emily answered him. Then the stranger came forward eagerly and said, 'Good God! Can it be - surely I am not mistaken - ma'amselle St. Aubert? Is it not?'

En/Pt 'It is indeed,' said Emily. She now saw that it was Valancourt, and his face showed even more life than usual. Many painful memories rushed into her mind, and the effort to stay calm only made her more upset. Valancourt asked kindly about her health and said he hoped travel had helped M. St. Aubert. But Emily's tears soon told him the terrible truth. He led her to a seat and sat beside her. Emily kept crying, and Valancourt held her hand, not even realizing he had taken it, until it was wet with her tears, from grief for St. Aubert and pity for her.

En/Pt 'I feel,' he said at last, 'that I cannot comfort you in this. I can only grieve with you, because I cannot doubt what your tears mean. I wish to God I were wrong!'

Original English Text

1 - Chapter I

2 - I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul. SHAKESPEARE

3 - Chapter III

4 - Chapter IV

5 - While in the rosy vale Love breath'd his infant sighs, from anguish free. Thomson

6 - Chapter VI

7 - Chapter VII

8 - Chapter VIII

9 - Chapter IX

Chapter I

Pt home is the resort Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where, Supporting and supported, polish'd friends And dear relations mingle into bliss.* *Thomson

Pt On the pleasant banks of the Garonne, in the province of Gascony, stood, in the year 1584, the chateau of Monsieur St. Aubert. From its windows were seen the pastoral landscapes of Guienne and Gascony stretching along the river, gay with luxuriant woods and vine, and plantations of olives. To the south, the view was bounded by the majestic Pyrenees, whose summits, veiled in clouds, or exhibiting awful forms, seen, and lost again, as the partial vapours rolled along, were sometimes barren, and gleamed through the blue tinge of air, and sometimes frowned with forests of gloomy pine, that swept downward to their base. These tremendous precipices were contrasted by the soft green of the pastures and woods that hung upon their skirts; among whose flocks, and herds, and simple cottages, the eye, after having scaled the cliffs above, delighted to repose. To the north, and to the east, the plains of Guienne and Languedoc were lost in the mist of distance; on the west, Gascony was bounded by the waters of Biscay.

Pt M. St. Aubert loved to wander, with his wife and daughter, on the margin of the Garonne, and to listen to the music that floated on its waves. He had known life in other forms than those of pastoral simplicity, having mingled in the gay and in the busy scenes of the world; but the flattering portrait of mankind, which his heart had delineated in early youth, his experience had too sorrowfully corrected. Yet, amidst the changing visions of life, his principles remained unshaken, his benevolence unchilled; and he retired from the multitude 'more in PITY than in anger,'to scenes of simple nature, to the pure delights of literature, and to the exercise of domestic virtues.

Pt He was a descendant from the younger branch of an illustrious family, and it was designed, that the deficiency of his patrimonial wealth should be supplied either by a splendid alliance in marriage, or by success in the intrigues of public affairs. But St. Aubert had too nice a sense of honour to fulfil the latter hope, and too small a portion of ambition to sacrifice what he called happiness, to the attainment of wealth. After the death of his father he married a very amiable woman, his equal in birth, and not his superior in fortune. The late Monsieur St. Aubert's liberality, or extravagance, had so much involved his affairs, that his son found it necessary to dispose of a part of the family domain, and, some years after his marriage, he sold it to Monsieur Quesnel, the brother of his wife, and retired to a small estate in Gascony, where conjugal felicity, and parental duties, divided his attention with the treasures of knowledge and the illuminations of genius.

Pt To this spot he had been attached from his infancy. He had often made excursions to it when a boy, and the impressions of delight given to his mind by the homely kindness of the grey-headed peasant, to whom it was intrusted, and whose fruit and cream never failed, had not been obliterated by succeeding circumstances. The green pastures along which he had so often bounded in the exultation of health, and youthful freedom - the woods, under whose refreshing shade he had first indulged that pensive melancholy, which afterwards made a strong feature of his character - the wild walks of the mountains, the river, on whose waves he had floated, and the distant plains, which seemed boundless as his early hopes - were never after remembered by St. Aubert but with enthusiasm and regret. At length he disengaged himself from the world, and retired hither, to realize the wishes of many years.

Pt The building, as it then stood, was merely a summer cottage, rendered interesting to a stranger by its neat simplicity, or the beauty of the surrounding scene; and considerable additions were necessary to make it a comfortable family residence. St. Aubert felt a kind of affection for every part of the fabric, which he remembered in his youth, and would not suffer a stone of it to be removed, so that the new building, adapted to the style of the old one, formed with it only a simple and elegant residence. The taste of Madame St. Aubert was conspicuous in its internal finishing, where the same chaste simplicity was observable in the furniture, and in the few ornaments of the apartments, that characterized the manners of its inhabitants.

Pt The library occupied the west side of the chateau, and was enriched by a collection of the best books in the ancient and modern languages. This room opened upon a grove, which stood on the brow of a gentle declivity, that fell towards the river, and the tall trees gave it a melancholy and pleasing shade; while from the windows the eye caught, beneath the spreading branches, the gay and luxuriant landscape stretching to the west, and overlooked on the left by the bold precipices of the Pyrenees. Adjoining the library was a green-house, stored with scarce and beautiful plants; for one of the amusements of St. Aubert was the study of botany, and among the neighbouring mountains, which afforded a luxurious feast to the mind of the naturalist, he often passed the day in the pursuit of his favourite science. He was sometimes accompanied in these little excursions by Madame St. Aubert, and frequently by his daughter; when, with a small osier basket to receive plants, and another filled with cold refreshments, such as the cabin of the shepherd did not afford, they wandered away among the most romantic and magnificent scenes, nor suffered the charms of Nature's lowly children to abstract them from the observance of her stupendous works. When weary of sauntering among cliffs that seemed scarcely accessible but to the steps of the enthusiast, and where no track appeared on the vegetation, but what the foot of the izard had left; they would seek one of those green recesses, which so beautifully adorn the bosom of these mountains, where, under the shade of the lofty larch, or cedar, they enjoyed their simple repast, made sweeter by the waters of the cool stream, that crept along the turf, and by the breath of wild flowers and aromatic plants, that fringed the rocks, and inlaid the grass.

Pt Adjoining the eastern side of the green-house, looking towards the plains of Languedoc, was a room, which Emily called hers, and which contained her books, her drawings, her musical instruments, with some favourite birds and plants. Here she usually exercised herself in elegant arts, cultivated only because they were congenial to her taste, and in which native genius, assisted by the instructions of Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert, made her an early proficient. The windows of this room were particularly pleasant; they descended to the floor, and, opening upon the little lawn that surrounded the house, the eye was led between groves of almond, palm-trees, flowering-ash, and myrtle, to the distant landscape, where the Garonne wandered.

Pt The peasants of this gay climate were often seen on an evening, when the day's labour was done, dancing in groups on the margin of the river. Their sprightly melodies, debonnaire steps, the fanciful figure of their dances, with the tasteful and capricious manner in which the girls adjusted their simple dress, gave a character to the scene entirely French.

Pt The front of the chateau, which, having a southern aspect, opened upon the grandeur of the mountains, was occupied on the ground floor by a rustic hall, and two excellent sitting rooms. The first floor, for the cottage had no second story, was laid out in bed-chambers, except one apartment that opened to a balcony, and which was generally used for a breakfast-room.

Pt In the surrounding ground, St. Aubert had made very tasteful improvements; yet, such was his attachment to objects he had remembered from his boyish days, that he had in some instances sacrificed taste to sentiment. There were two old larches that shaded the building, and interrupted the prospect; St. Aubert had sometimes declared that he believed he should have been weak enough to have wept at their fall. In addition to these larches he planted a little grove of beech, pine, and mountain-ash. On a lofty terrace, formed by the swelling bank of the river, rose a plantation of orange, lemon, and palm-trees, whose fruit, in the coolness of evening, breathed delicious fragrance. With these were mingled a few trees of other species. Here, under the ample shade of a plane-tree, that spread its majestic canopy towards the river, St. Aubert loved to sit in the fine evenings of summer, with his wife and children, watching, beneath its foliage, the setting sun, the mild splendour of its light fading from the distant landscape, till the shadows of twilight melted its various features into one tint of sober grey. Here, too, he loved to read, and to converse with Madame St. Aubert; or to play with his children, resigning himself to the influence of those sweet affections, which are ever attendant on simplicity and nature. He has often said, while tears of pleasure trembled in his eyes, that these were moments infinitely more delightful than any passed amid the brilliant and tumultuous scenes that are courted by the world. His heart was occupied; it had, what can be so rarely said, no wish for a happiness beyond what it experienced. The consciousness of acting right diffused a serenity over his manners, which nothing else could impart to a man of moral perceptions like his, and which refined his sense of every surrounding blessing.

Pt The deepest shade of twilight did not send him from his favourite plane-tree. He loved the soothing hour, when the last tints of light die away; when the stars, one by one, tremble through aether, and are reflected on the dark mirror of the waters; that hour, which, of all others, inspires the mind with pensive tenderness, and often elevates it to sublime contemplation. When the moon shed her soft rays among the foliage, he still lingered, and his pastoral supper of cream and fruits was often spread beneath it. Then, on the stillness of night, came the song of the nightingale, breathing sweetness, and awakening melancholy.

Pt The first interruptions to the happiness he had known since his retirement, were occasioned by the death of his two sons. He lost them at that age when infantine simplicity is so fascinating; and though, in consideration of Madame St. Aubert's distress, he restrained the expression of his own, and endeavoured to bear it, as he meant, with philosophy, he had, in truth, no philosophy that could render him calm to such losses. One daughter was now his only surviving child; and, while he watched the unfolding of her infant character, with anxious fondness, he endeavoured, with unremitting effort, to counteract those traits in her disposition, which might hereafter lead her from happiness. She had discovered in her early years uncommon delicacy of mind, warm affections, and ready benevolence; but with these was observable a degree of susceptibility too exquisite to admit of lasting peace. As she advanced in youth, this sensibility gave a pensive tone to her spirits, and a softness to her manner, which added grace to beauty, and rendered her a very interesting object to persons of a congenial disposition. But St. Aubert had too much good sense to prefer a charm to a virtue; and had penetration enough to see, that this charm was too dangerous to its possessor to be allowed the character of a blessing. He endeavoured, therefore, to strengthen her mind; to enure her to habits of self-command; to teach her to reject the first impulse of her feelings, and to look, with cool examination, upon the disappointments he sometimes threw in her way. While he instructed her to resist first impressions, and to acquire that steady dignity of mind, that can alone counterbalance the passions, and bear us, as far as is compatible with our nature, above the reach of circumstances, he taught himself a lesson of fortitude; for he was often obliged to witness, with seeming indifference, the tears and struggles which his caution occasioned her.

Pt In person, Emily resembled her mother; having the same elegant symmetry of form, the same delicacy of features, and the same blue eyes, full of tender sweetness. But, lovely as was her person, it was the varied expression of her countenance, as conversation awakened the nicer emotions of her mind, that threw such a captivating grace around her:

Pt Those tend'rer tints, that shun the careless eye, And, in the world's contagious circle, die.

Pt St. Aubert cultivated her understanding with the most scrupulous care. He gave her a general view of the sciences, and an exact acquaintance with every part of elegant literature. He taught her Latin and English, chiefly that she might understand the sublimity of their best poets. She discovered in her early years a taste for works of genius; and it was St. Aubert's principle, as well as his inclination, to promote every innocent means of happiness. 'A well-informed mind,'he would say, 'is the best security against the contagion of folly and of vice. The vacant mind is ever on the watch for relief, and ready to plunge into error, to escape from the languor of idleness. Store it with ideas, teach it the pleasure of thinking; and the temptations of the world without, will be counteracted by the gratifications derived from the world within. Thought, and cultivation, are necessary equally to the happiness of a country and a city life; in the first they prevent the uneasy sensations of indolence, and afford a sublime pleasure in the taste they create for the beautiful, and the grand; in the latter, they make dissipation less an object of necessity, and consequently of interest.'

Pt It was one of Emily's earliest pleasures to ramble among the scenes of nature; nor was it in the soft and glowing landscape that she most delighted; she loved more the wild wood-walks, that skirted the mountain; and still more the mountain's stupendous recesses, where the silence and grandeur of solitude impressed a sacred awe upon her heart, and lifted her thoughts to the GOD OF HEAVEN AND EARTH. In scenes like these she would often linger along, wrapt in a melancholy charm, till the last gleam of day faded from the west; till the lonely sound of a sheep-bell, or the distant bark of a watch-dog, were all that broke on the stillness of the evening. Then, the gloom of the woods; the trembling of their leaves, at intervals, in the breeze; the bat, flitting on the twilight; the cottage-lights, now seen, and now lost - were circumstances that awakened her mind into effort, and led to enthusiasm and poetry.

Pt Her favourite walk was to a little fishing-house, belonging to St. Aubert, in a woody glen, on the margin of a rivulet that descended from the Pyrenees, and, after foaming among their rocks, wound its silent way beneath the shades it reflected. Above the woods, that screened this glen, rose the lofty summits of the Pyrenees, which often burst boldly on the eye through the glades below. Sometimes the shattered face of a rock only was seen, crowned with wild shrubs; or a shepherd's cabin seated on a cliff, overshadowed by dark cypress, or waving ash. Emerging from the deep recesses of the woods, the glade opened to the distant landscape, where the rich pastures and vine-covered slopes of Gascony gradually declined to the plains; and there, on the winding shores of the Garonne, groves, and hamlets, and villas - their outlines softened by distance, melted from the eye into one rich harmonious tint.

Pt This, too, was the favourite retreat of St. Aubert, to which he frequently withdrew from the fervour of noon, with his wife, his daughter, and his books; or came at the sweet evening hour to welcome the silent dusk, or to listen for the music of the nightingale. Sometimes, too, he brought music of his own, and awakened every fairy echo with the tender accents of his oboe; and often have the tones of Emily's voice drawn sweetness from the waves, over which they trembled.

Pt It was in one of these excursions to this spot, that she observed the following lines written with a pencil on a part of the wainscot:

Pt SONNET Go, pencil! faithful to thy master's sighs! Go - tell the Goddess of the fairy scene, When next her light steps wind these wood-walks green, Whence all his tears, his tender sorrows, rise; Ah! paint her form, her soul-illumin'd eyes, The sweet expression of her pensive face, The light'ning smile, the animated grace - The portrait well the lover's voice supplies; Speaks all his heart must feel, his tongue would say: Yet ah! not all his heart must sadly feel! How oft the flow'ret's silken leaves conceal The drug that steals the vital spark away! And who that gazes on that angel-smile, Would fear its charm, or think it could beguile!

Pt These lines were not inscribed to any person; Emily therefore could not apply them to herself, though she was undoubtedly the nymph of these shades. Having glanced round the little circle of her acquaintance without being detained by a suspicion as to whom they could be addressed, she was compelled to rest in uncertainty; an uncertainty which would have been more painful to an idle mind than it was to hers. She had no leisure to suffer this circumstance, trifling at first, to swell into importance by frequent remembrance. The little vanity it had excited (for the incertitude which forbade her to presume upon having inspired the sonnet, forbade her also to disbelieve it) passed away, and the incident was dismissed from her thoughts amid her books, her studies, and the exercise of social charities.

Pt Soon after this period, her anxiety was awakened by the indisposition of her father, who was attacked with a fever; which, though not thought to be of a dangerous kind, gave a severe shock to his constitution. Madame St. Aubert and Emily attended him with unremitting care; but his recovery was very slow, and, as he advanced towards health, Madame seemed to decline.

Pt The first scene he visited, after he was well enough to take the air, was his favourite fishing-house. A basket of provisions was sent thither, with books, and Emily's lute; for fishing-tackle he had no use, for he never could find amusement in torturing or destroying.

Pt After employing himself, for about an hour, in botanizing, dinner was served. It was a repast, to which gratitude, for being again permitted to visit this spot, gave sweetness; and family happiness once more smiled beneath these shades. Monsieur St. Aubert conversed with unusual cheerfulness; every object delighted his senses. The refreshing pleasure from the first view of nature, after the pain of illness, and the confinement of a sick-chamber, is above the conceptions, as well as the descriptions, of those in health. The green woods and pastures; the flowery turf; the blue concave of the heavens; the balmy air; the murmur of the limpid stream; and even the hum of every little insect of the shade, seem to revivify the soul, and make mere existence bliss.

Pt Madame St. Aubert, reanimated by the cheerfulness and recovery of her husband, was no longer sensible of the indisposition which had lately oppressed her; and, as she sauntered along the wood-walks of this romantic glen, and conversed with him, and with her daughter, she often looked at them alternately with a degree of tenderness, that filled her eyes with tears. St. Aubert observed this more than once, and gently reproved her for the emotion; but she could only smile, clasp his hand, and that of Emily, and weep the more. He felt the tender enthusiasm stealing upon himself in a degree that became almost painful; his features assumed a serious air, and he could not forbear secretly sighing - 'Perhaps I shall some time look back to these moments, as to the summit of my happiness, with hopeless regret. But let me not misuse them by useless anticipation; let me hope I shall not live to mourn the loss of those who are dearer to me than life.'

Pt To relieve, or perhaps to indulge, the pensive temper of his mind, he bade Emily fetch the lute she knew how to touch with such sweet pathos. As she drew near the fishing-house, she was surprised to hear the tones of the instrument, which were awakened by the hand of taste, and uttered a plaintive air, whose exquisite melody engaged all her attention. She listened in profound silence, afraid to move from the spot, lest the sound of her steps should occasion her to lose a note of the music, or should disturb the musician. Every thing without the building was still, and no person appeared. She continued to listen, till timidity succeeded to surprise and delight; a timidity, increased by a remembrance of the pencilled lines she had formerly seen, and she hesitated whether to proceed, or to return.

Pt While she paused, the music ceased; and, after a momentary hesitation, she re-collected courage to advance to the fishing-house, which she entered with faltering steps, and found unoccupied! Her lute lay on the table; every thing seemed undisturbed, and she began to believe it was another instrument she had heard, till she remembered, that, when she followed M. and Madame St. Aubert from this spot, her lute was left on a window seat. She felt alarmed, yet knew not wherefore; the melancholy gloom of evening, and the profound stillness of the place, interrupted only by the light trembling of leaves, heightened her fanciful apprehensions, and she was desirous of quitting the building, but perceived herself grow faint, and sat down. As she tried to recover herself, the pencilled lines on the wainscot met her eye; she started, as if she had seen a stranger; but, endeavouring to conquer the tremor of her spirits, rose, and went to the window. To the lines before noticed she now perceived that others were added, in which her name appeared.

Pt Though no longer suffered to doubt that they were addressed to herself, she was as ignorant, as before, by whom they could be written. While she mused, she thought she heard the sound of a step without the building, and again alarmed, she caught up her lute, and hurried away. Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert she found in a little path that wound along the sides of the glen.

Pt Having reached a green summit, shadowed by palm-trees, and overlooking the vallies and plains of Gascony, they seated themselves on the turf; and while their eyes wandered over the glorious scene, and they inhaled the sweet breath of flowers and herbs that enriched the grass, Emily played and sung several of their favourite airs, with the delicacy of expression in which she so much excelled.

Pt Music and conversation detained them in this enchanting spot, till the sun's last light slept upon the plains; till the white sails that glided beneath the mountains, where the Garonne wandered, became dim, and the gloom of evening stole over the landscape. It was a melancholy but not unpleasing gloom. St. Aubert and his family rose, and left the place with regret; alas! Madame St. Aubert knew not that she left it for ever.

Pt When they reached the fishing-house she missed her bracelet, and recollected that she had taken it from her arm after dinner, and had left it on the table when she went to walk. After a long search, in which Emily was very active, she was compelled to resign herself to the loss of it. What made this bracelet valuable to her was a miniature of her daughter to which it was attached, esteemed a striking resemblance, and which had been painted only a few months before. When Emily was convinced that the bracelet was really gone, she blushed, and became thoughtful. That some stranger had been in the fishing-house, during her absence, her lute, and the additional lines of a pencil, had already informed her: from the purport of these lines it was not unreasonable to believe, that the poet, the musician, and the thief were the same person. But though the music she had heard, the written lines she had seen, and the disappearance of the picture, formed a combination of circumstances very remarkable, she was irresistibly restrained from mentioning them; secretly determining, however, never again to visit the fishing-house without Monsieur or Madame St. Aubert.

Pt They returned pensively to the chateau, Emily musing on the incident which had just occurred; St. Aubert reflecting, with placid gratitude, on the blessings he possessed; and Madame St. Aubert somewhat disturbed, and perplexed, by the loss of her daughter's picture. As they drew near the house, they observed an unusual bustle about it; the sound of voices was distinctly heard, servants and horses were seen passing between the trees, and, at length, the wheels of a carriage rolled along. Having come within view of the front of the chateau, a landau, with smoking horses, appeared on the little lawn before it. St. Aubert perceived the liveries of his brother-in-law, and in the parlour he found Monsieur and Madame Quesnel already entered. They had left Paris some days before, and were on the way to their estate, only ten leagues distant from La Vallee, and which Monsieur Quesnel had purchased several years before of St. Aubert. This gentleman was the only brother of Madame St. Aubert; but the ties of relationship having never been strengthened by congeniality of character, the intercourse between them had not been frequent. M. Quesnel had lived altogether in the world; his aim had been consequence; splendour was the object of his taste; and his address and knowledge of character had carried him forward to the attainment of almost all that he had courted. By a man of such a disposition, it is not surprising that the virtues of St. Aubert should be overlooked; or that his pure taste, simplicity, and moderated wishes, were considered as marks of a weak intellect, and of confined views. The marriage of his sister with St. Aubert had been mortifying to his ambition, for he had designed that the matrimonial connection she formed should assist him to attain the consequence which he so much desired; and some offers were made her by persons whose rank and fortune flattered his warmest hope. But his sister, who was then addressed also by St. Aubert, perceived, or thought she perceived, that happiness and splendour were not the same, and she did not hesitate to forego the last for the attainment of the former. Whether Monsieur Quesnel thought them the same, or not, he would readily have sacrificed his sister's peace to the gratification of his own ambition; and, on her marriage with St. Aubert, expressed in private his contempt of her spiritless conduct, and of the connection which it permitted. Madame St. Aubert, though she concealed this insult from her husband, felt, perhaps, for the first time, resentment lighted in her heart; and, though a regard for her own dignity, united with considerations of prudence, restrained her expression of this resentment, there was ever after a mild reserve in her manner towards M. Quesnel, which he both understood and felt.

Pt In his own marriage he did not follow his sister's example. His lady was an Italian, and an heiress by birth; and, by nature and education, was a vain and frivolous woman.

Pt They now determined to pass the night with St. Aubert; and as the chateau was not large enough to accommodate their servants, the latter were dismissed to the neighbouring village. When the first compliments were over, and the arrangements for the night made M. Quesnel began the display of his intelligence and his connections; while St. Aubert, who had been long enough in retirement to find these topics recommended by their novelty, listened, with a degree of patience and attention, which his guest mistook for the humility of wonder. The latter, indeed, described the few festivities which the turbulence of that period permitted to the court of Henry the Third, with a minuteness, that somewhat recompensed for his ostentation; but, when he came to speak of the character of the Duke de Joyeuse, of a secret treaty, which he knew to be negotiating with the Porte, and of the light in which Henry of Navarre was received, M. St. Aubert recollected enough of his former experience to be assured, that his guest could be only of an inferior class of politicians; and that, from the importance of the subjects upon which he committed himself, he could not be of the rank to which he pretended to belong. The opinions delivered by M. Quesnel, were such as St. Aubert forebore to reply to, for he knew that his guest had neither humanity to feel, nor discernment to perceive, what is just.

Pt Madame Quesnel, meanwhile, was expressing to Madame St. Aubert her astonishment, that she could bear to pass her life in this remote corner of the world, as she called it, and describing, from a wish, probably, of exciting envy, the splendour of the balls, banquets, and processions which had just been given by the court, in honour of the nuptials of the Duke de Joyeuse with Margaretta of Lorrain, the sister of the Queen. She described with equal minuteness the magnificence she had seen, and that from which she had been excluded; while Emily's vivid fancy, as she listened with the ardent curiosity of youth, heightened the scenes she heard of; and Madame St. Aubert, looking on her family, felt, as a tear stole to her eye, that though splendour may grace happiness, virtue only can bestow it.

Pt 'It is now twelve years, St. Aubert,'said M. Quesnel, 'since I purchased your family estate.' - 'Somewhere thereabout,'replied St. Aubert, suppressing a sigh. 'It is near five years since I have been there,'resumed Quesnel; 'for Paris and its neighbourhood is the only place in the world to live in, and I am so immersed in politics, and have so many affairs of moment on my hands, that I find it difficult to steal away even for a month or two.'St. Aubert remaining silent, M. Quesnel proceeded: 'I have sometimes wondered how you, who have lived in the capital, and have been accustomed to company, can exist elsewhere; - especially in so remote a country as this, where you can neither hear nor see any thing, and can in short be scarcely conscious of life.'

Pt 'I live for my family and myself,'said St. Aubert; 'I am now contented to know only happiness; - formerly I knew life.'

Pt 'I mean to expend thirty or forty thousand livres on improvements,'said M. Quesnel, without seeming to notice the words of St. Aubert; 'for I design, next summer, to bring here my friends, the Duke de Durefort and the Marquis Ramont, to pass a month or two with me.'To St. Aubert's enquiry, as to these intended improvements, he replied, that he should take down the whole east wing of the chateau, and raise upon the site a set of stables. 'Then I shall build,'said he, 'a SALLE A MANGER, a SALON, a SALLE AU COMMUNE, and a number of rooms for servants; for at present there is not accommodation for a third part of my own people.'

Pt 'It accommodated our father's household,'said St. Aubert, grieved that the old mansion was to be thus improved, 'and that was not a small one.'

Pt 'Our notions are somewhat enlarged since those days,'said M. Quesnel; - 'what was then thought a decent style of living would not now be endured.'Even the calm St. Aubert blushed at these words, but his anger soon yielded to contempt. 'The ground about the chateau is encumbered with trees; I mean to cut some of them down.'

Pt 'Cut down the trees too!'said St. Aubert.

Pt 'Certainly. Why should I not? they interrupt my prospects. There is a chesnut which spreads its branches before the whole south side of the chateau, and which is so ancient that they tell me the hollow of its trunk will hold a dozen men. Your enthusiasm will scarcely contend that there can be either use, or beauty, in such a sapless old tree as this.'

Pt 'Good God!'exclaimed St. Aubert, 'you surely will not destroy that noble chesnut, which has flourished for centuries, the glory of the estate! It was in its maturity when the present mansion was built. How often, in my youth, have I climbed among its broad branches, and sat embowered amidst a world of leaves, while the heavy shower has pattered above, and not a rain drop reached me! How often I have sat with a book in my hand, sometimes reading, and sometimes looking out between the branches upon the wide landscape, and the setting sun, till twilight came, and brought the birds home to their little nests among the leaves! How often - but pardon me,'added St. Aubert, recollecting that he was speaking to a man who could neither comprehend, nor allow his feelings, 'I am talking of times and feelings as old-fashioned as the taste that would spare that venerable tree.'

Pt 'It will certainly come down,'said M. Quesnel; 'I believe I shall plant some Lombardy poplars among the clumps of chesnut, that I shall leave of the avenue; Madame Quesnel is partial to the poplar, and tells me how much it adorns a villa of her uncle, not far from Venice.'

Pt 'On the banks of the Brenta, indeed,'continued St. Aubert, 'where its spiry form is intermingled with the pine, and the cypress, and where it plays over light and elegant porticos and colonnades, it, unquestionably, adorns the scene; but among the giants of the forest, and near a heavy gothic mansion - '

Pt 'Well, my good sir,'said M. Quesnel, 'I will not dispute with you. You must return to Paris before our ideas can at all agree. But A-PROPOS of Venice, I have some thoughts of going thither, next summer; events may call me to take possession of that same villa, too, which they tell me is the most charming that can be imagined. In that case I shall leave the improvements I mention to another year, and I may, perhaps, be tempted to stay some time in Italy.'

Pt Emily was somewhat surprised to hear him talk of being tempted to remain abroad, after he had mentioned his presence to be so necessary at Paris, that it was with difficulty he could steal away for a month or two; but St. Aubert understood the self-importance of the man too well to wonder at this trait; and the possibility, that these projected improvements might be deferred, gave him a hope, that they might never take place.

Pt Before they separated for the night, M. Quesnel desired to speak with St. Aubert alone, and they retired to another room, where they remained a considerable time. The subject of this conversation was not known; but, whatever it might be, St. Aubert, when he returned to the supper-room, seemed much disturbed, and a shade of sorrow sometimes fell upon his features that alarmed Madame St. Aubert. When they were alone she was tempted to enquire the occasion of it, but the delicacy of mind, which had ever appeared in his conduct, restrained her: she considered that, if St. Aubert wished her to be acquainted with the subject of his concern, he would not wait on her enquiries.

Pt On the following day, before M. Quesnel departed, he had a second conference with St. Aubert.

Pt The guests, after dining at the chateau, set out in the cool of the day for Epourville, whither they gave him and Madame St. Aubert a pressing invitation, prompted rather by the vanity of displaying their splendour, than by a wish to make their friends happy.

Pt Emily returned, with delight, to the liberty which their presence had restrained, to her books, her walks, and the rational conversation of M. and Madame St. Aubert, who seemed to rejoice, no less, that they were delivered from the shackles, which arrogance and frivolity had imposed.

Pt Madame St. Aubert excused herself from sharing their usual evening walk, complaining that she was not quite well, and St. Aubert and Emily went out together.

Pt They chose a walk towards the mountains, intending to visit some old pensioners of St. Aubert, which, from his very moderate income, he contrived to support, though it is probable M. Quesnel, with his very large one, could not have afforded this.

Pt After distributing to his pensioners their weekly stipends, listening patiently to the complaints of some, redressing the grievances of others, and softening the discontents of all, by the look of sympathy, and the smile of benevolence, St. Aubert returned home through the woods,

Pt where At fall of eve the fairy-people throng, In various games and revelry to pass The summer night, as village stories tell.* *Thomson

Pt 'The evening gloom of woods was always delightful to me,'said St. Aubert, whose mind now experienced the sweet calm, which results from the consciousness of having done a beneficent action, and which disposes it to receive pleasure from every surrounding object. 'I remember that in my youth this gloom used to call forth to my fancy a thousand fairy visions, and romantic images; and, I own, I am not yet wholly insensible of that high enthusiasm, which wakes the poet's dream: I can linger, with solemn steps, under the deep shades, send forward a transforming eye into the distant obscurity, and listen with thrilling delight to the mystic murmuring of the woods.'

Pt 'O my dear father,'said Emily, while a sudden tear started to her eye, 'how exactly you describe what I have felt so often, and which I thought nobody had ever felt but myself! But hark! here comes the sweeping sound over the wood-tops; - now it dies away; - how solemn the stillness that succeeds! Now the breeze swells again. It is like the voice of some supernatural being - the voice of the spirit of the woods, that watches over them by night. Ah! what light is yonder? But it is gone. And now it gleams again, near the root of that large chestnut: look, sir!'

Pt 'Are you such an admirer of nature,'said St. Aubert, 'and so little acquainted with her appearances as not to know that for the glow-worm? But come,'added he gaily, 'step a little further, and we shall see fairies, perhaps; they are often companions. The glow-worm lends his light, and they in return charm him with music, and the dance. Do you see nothing tripping yonder?'

Pt Emily laughed. 'Well, my dear sir,'said she, 'since you allow of this alliance, I may venture to own I have anticipated you; and almost dare venture to repeat some verses I made one evening in these very woods.'

Pt 'Nay,'replied St. Aubert, 'dismiss the ALMOST, and venture quite; let us hear what vagaries fancy has been playing in your mind. If she has given you one of her spells, you need not envy those of the fairies.'

Pt 'If it is strong enough to enchant your judgment, sir,'said Emily, 'while I disclose her images, I need NOT envy them. The lines go in a sort of tripping measure, which I thought might suit the subject well enough, but I fear they are too irregular.'

Pt THE GLOW-WORM How pleasant is the green-wood's deep-matted shade On a mid-summer's eve, when the fresh rain is o'er; When the yellow beams slope, and sparkle thro'the glade, And swiftly in the thin air the light swallows soar! But sweeter, sweeter still, when the sun sinks to rest, And twilight comes on, with the fairies so gay Tripping through the forest-walk, where flow'rs, unprest, Bow not their tall heads beneath their frolic play. To music's softest sounds they dance away the hour, Till moon-light steals down among the trembling leaves, And checquers all the ground, and guides them to the bow'r, The long haunted bow'r, where the nightingale grieves. Then no more they dance, till her sad song is done, But, silent as the night, to her mourning attend; And often as her dying notes their pity have won, They vow all her sacred haunts from mortals to defend. When, down among the mountains, sinks the ev'ning star, And the changing moon forsakes this shadowy sphere, How cheerless would they be, tho'they fairies are, If I, with my pale light, came not near! Yet cheerless tho'they'd be, they're ungrateful to my love! For, often when the traveller's benighted on his way, And I glimmer in his path, and would guide him thro'the grove, They bind me in their magic spells to lead him far astray; And in the mire to leave him, till the stars are all burnt out, While, in strange-looking shapes, they frisk about the ground, And, afar in the woods, they raise a dismal shout, Till I shrink into my cell again for terror of the sound! But, see where all the tiny elves come dancing in a ring, With the merry, merry pipe, and the tabor, and the horn, And the timbrel so clear, and the lute with dulcet string; Then round about the oak they go till peeping of the morn. Down yonder glade two lovers steal, to shun the fairy-queen, Who frowns upon their plighted vows, and jealous is of me, That yester-eve I lighted them, along the dewy green, To seek the purple flow'r, whose juice from all her spells can free. And now, to punish me, she keeps afar her jocund band, With the merry, merry pipe, and the tabor, and the lute; If I creep near yonder oak she will wave her fairy wand, And to me the dance will cease, and the music all be mute. O! had I but that purple flow'r whose leaves her charms can foil, And knew like fays to draw the juice, and throw it on the wind, I'd be her slave no longer, nor the traveller beguile, And help all faithful lovers, nor fear the fairy kind! But soon the VAPOUR OF THE WOODS will wander afar, And the fickle moon will fade, and the stars disappear, Then, cheerless will they be, tho'they fairies are, If I, with my pale light, come not near!

Pt Whatever St. Aubert might think of the stanzas, he would not deny his daughter the pleasure of believing that he approved them; and, having given his commendation, he sunk into a reverie, and they walked on in silence.

Pt A faint erroneous ray Glanc'd from th'imperfect surfaces of things, Flung half an image on the straining eye; While waving woods, and villages, and streams, And rocks, and mountain-tops, that long retain The ascending gleam, are all one swimming scene, Uncertain if beheld.* *Thomson.

Pt St. Aubert continued silent till he reached the chateau, where his wife had retired to her chamber. The languor and dejection, that had lately oppressed her, and which the exertion called forth by the arrival of her guests had suspended, now returned with increased effect. On the following day, symptoms of fever appeared, and St. Aubert, having sent for medical advice, learned, that her disorder was a fever of the same nature as that, from which he had lately recovered. She had, indeed, taken the infection, during her attendance upon him, and, her constitution being too weak to throw out the disease immediately, it had lurked in her veins, and occasioned the heavy languor of which she had complained. St. Aubert, whose anxiety for his wife overcame every other consideration, detained the physician in his house. He remembered the feelings and the reflections that had called a momentary gloom upon his mind, on the day when he had last visited the fishing-house, in company with Madame St. Aubert, and he now admitted a presentiment, that this illness would be a fatal one. But he effectually concealed this from her, and from his daughter, whom he endeavoured to re-animate with hopes that her constant assiduities would not be unavailing. The physician, when asked by St. Aubert for his opinion of the disorder, replied, that the event of it depended upon circumstances which he could not ascertain. Madame St. Aubert seemed to have formed a more decided one; but her eyes only gave hints of this. She frequently fixed them upon her anxious friends with an expression of pity, and of tenderness, as if she anticipated the sorrow that awaited them, and that seemed to say, it was for their sakes only, for their sufferings, that she regretted life. On the seventh day, the disorder was at its crisis. The physician assumed a graver manner, which she observed, and took occasion, when her family had once quitted the chamber, to tell him, that she perceived her death was approaching. 'Do not attempt to deceive me,'said she, 'I feel that I cannot long survive. I am prepared for the event, I have long, I hope, been preparing for it. Since I have not long to live, do not suffer a mistaken compassion to induce you to flatter my family with false hopes. If you do, their affliction will only be the heavier when it arrives: I will endeavour to teach them resignation by my example.'

Pt The physician was affected; he promised to obey her, and told St. Aubert, somewhat abruptly, that there was nothing to expect. The latter was not philosopher enough to restrain his feelings when he received this information; but a consideration of the increased affliction which the observance of his grief would occasion his wife, enabled him, after some time, to command himself in her presence. Emily was at first overwhelmed with the intelligence; then, deluded by the strength of her wishes, a hope sprung up in her mind that her mother would yet recover, and to this she pertinaciously adhered almost to the last hour.

Pt The progress of this disorder was marked, on the side of Madame St. Aubert, by patient suffering, and subjected wishes. The composure, with which she awaited her death, could be derived only from the retrospect of a life governed, as far as human frailty permits, by a consciousness of being always in the presence of the Deity, and by the hope of a higher world. But her piety could not entirely subdue the grief of parting from those whom she so dearly loved. During these her last hours, she conversed much with St. Aubert and Emily, on the prospect of futurity, and on other religious topics. The resignation she expressed, with the firm hope of meeting in a future world the friends she left in this, and the effort which sometimes appeared to conceal her sorrow at this temporary separation, frequently affected St. Aubert so much as to oblige him to leave the room. Having indulged his tears awhile, he would dry them and return to the chamber with a countenance composed by an endeavour which did but increase his grief.

Pt Never had Emily felt the importance of the lessons, which had taught her to restrain her sensibility, so much as in these moments, and never had she practised them with a triumph so complete. But when the last was over, she sunk at once under the pressure of her sorrow, and then perceived that it was hope, as well as fortitude, which had hitherto supported her. St. Aubert was for a time too devoid of comfort himself to bestow any on his daughter.

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul. SHAKESPEARE

Pt Madame St. Aubert was interred in the neighbouring village church; her husband and daughter attended her to the grave, followed by a long train of the peasantry, who were sincere mourners of this excellent woman.

Pt On his return from the funeral, St. Aubert shut himself in his chamber. When he came forth, it was with a serene countenance, though pale in sorrow. He gave orders that his family should attend him. Emily only was absent; who, overcome with the scene she had just witnessed, had retired to her closet to weep alone. St. Aubert followed her thither: he took her hand in silence, while she continued to weep; and it was some moments before he could so far command his voice as to speak. It trembled while he said, 'My Emily, I am going to prayers with my family; you will join us. We must ask support from above. Where else ought we to seek it - where else can we find it?'

Pt Emily checked her tears, and followed her father to the parlour, where, the servants being assembled, St. Aubert read, in a low and solemn voice, the evening service, and added a prayer for the soul of the departed. During this, his voice often faltered, his tears fell upon the book, and at length he paused. But the sublime emotions of pure devotion gradually elevated his views above this world, and finally brought comfort to his heart.

Pt When the service was ended, and the servants were withdrawn, he tenderly kissed Emily, and said, 'I have endeavoured to teach you, from your earliest youth, the duty of self-command; I have pointed out to you the great importance of it through life, not only as it preserves us in the various and dangerous temptations that call us from rectitude and virtue, but as it limits the indulgences which are termed virtuous, yet which, extended beyond a certain boundary, are vicious, for their consequence is evil. All excess is vicious; even that sorrow, which is amiable in its origin, becomes a selfish and unjust passion, if indulged at the expence of our duties - by our duties I mean what we owe to ourselves, as well as to others. The indulgence of excessive grief enervates the mind, and almost incapacitates it for again partaking of those various innocent enjoyments which a benevolent God designed to be the sun-shine of our lives. My dear Emily, recollect and practise the precepts I have so often given you, and which your own experience has so often shewn you to be wise.

Pt 'Your sorrow is useless. Do not receive this as merely a commonplace remark, but let reason THEREFORE restrain sorrow. I would not annihilate your feelings, my child, I would only teach you to command them; for whatever may be the evils resulting from a too susceptible heart, nothing can be hoped from an insensible one; that, on the other hand, is all vice - vice, of which the deformity is not softened, or the effect consoled for, by any semblance or possibility of good. You know my sufferings, and are, therefore, convinced that mine are not the light words which, on these occasions, are so often repeated to destroy even the sources of honest emotion, or which merely display the selfish ostentation of a false philosophy. I will shew my Emily, that I can practise what I advise. I have said thus much, because I cannot bear to see you wasting in useless sorrow, for want of that resistance which is due from mind; and I have not said it till now, because there is a period when all reasoning must yield to nature; that is past: and another, when excessive indulgence, having sunk into habit, weighs down the elasticity of the spirits so as to render conquest nearly impossible; this is to come. You, my Emily, will shew that you are willing to avoid it.'

Pt Emily smiled through her tears upon her father: 'Dear sir,'said she, and her voice trembled; she would have added, 'I will shew myself worthy of being your daughter;'but a mingled emotion of gratitude, affection, and grief overcame her. St. Aubert suffered her to weep without interruption, and then began to talk on common topics.

Pt The first person who came to condole with St. Aubert was a M. Barreaux, an austere and seemingly unfeeling man. A taste for botany had introduced them to each other, for they had frequently met in their wanderings among the mountains. M. Barreaux had retired from the world, and almost from society, to live in a pleasant chateau, on the skirts of the woods, near La Vallee. He also had been disappointed in his opinion of mankind; but he did not, like St. Aubert, pity and mourn for them; he felt more indignation at their vices, than compassion for their weaknesses.

Pt St. Aubert was somewhat surprised to see him; for, though he had often pressed him to come to the chateau, he had never till now accepted the invitation; and now he came without ceremony or reserve, entering the parlour as an old friend. The claims of misfortune appeared to have softened down all the ruggedness and prejudices of his heart. St. Aubert unhappy, seemed to be the sole idea that occupied his mind. It was in manners, more than in words, that he appeared to sympathize with his friends: he spoke little on the subject of their grief; but the minute attention he gave them, and the modulated voice, and softened look that accompanied it, came from his heart, and spoke to theirs.

Pt At this melancholy period St. Aubert was likewise visited by Madame Cheron, his only surviving sister, who had been some years a widow, and now resided on her own estate near Tholouse. The intercourse between them had not been very frequent. In her condolements, words were not wanting; she understood not the magic of the look that speaks at once to the soul, or the voice that sinks like balm to the heart: but she assured St. Aubert that she sincerely sympathized with him, praised the virtues of his late wife, and then offered what she considered to be consolation. Emily wept unceasingly while she spoke; St. Aubert was tranquil, listened to what she said in silence, and then turned the discourse upon another subject.

Pt At parting she pressed him and her niece to make her an early visit. 'Change of place will amuse you,'said she, 'and it is wrong to give way to grief.'St. Aubert acknowledged the truth of these words of course; but, at the same time, felt more reluctant than ever to quit the spot which his past happiness had consecrated. The presence of his wife had sanctified every surrounding scene, and, each day, as it gradually softened the acuteness of his suffering, assisted the tender enchantment that bound him to home.

Pt But there were calls which must be complied with, and of this kind was the visit he paid to his brother-in-law M. Quesnel. An affair of an interesting nature made it necessary that he should delay this visit no longer, and, wishing to rouse Emily from her dejection, he took her with him to Epourville.

Pt As the carriage entered upon the forest that adjoined his paternal domain, his eyes once more caught, between the chesnut avenue, the turreted corners of the chateau. He sighed to think of what had passed since he was last there, and that it was now the property of a man who neither revered nor valued it. At length he entered the avenue, whose lofty trees had so often delighted him when a boy, and whose melancholy shade was now so congenial with the tone of his spirits. Every feature of the edifice, distinguished by an air of heavy grandeur, appeared successively between the branches of the trees - the broad turret, the arched gate-way that led into the courts, the drawbridge, and the dry fosse which surrounded the whole.

Pt The sound of carriage wheels brought a troop of servants to the great gate, where St. Aubert alighted, and from which he led Emily into the gothic hall, now no longer hung with the arms and ancient banners of the family. These were displaced, and the oak wainscotting, and beams that crossed the roof, were painted white. The large table, too, that used to stretch along the upper end of the hall, where the master of the mansion loved to display his hospitality, and whence the peal of laughter, and the song of conviviality, had so often resounded, was now removed; even the benches that had surrounded the hall were no longer there. The heavy walls were hung with frivolous ornaments, and every thing that appeared denoted the false taste and corrupted sentiments of the present owner.

Pt St. Aubert followed a gay Parisian servant to a parlour, where sat Mons. and Madame Quesnel, who received him with a stately politeness, and, after a few formal words of condolement, seemed to have forgotten that they ever had a sister.

Pt Emily felt tears swell into her eyes, and then resentment checked them. St. Aubert, calm and deliberate, preserved his dignity without assuming importance, and Quesnel was depressed by his presence without exactly knowing wherefore.

Pt After some general conversation, St. Aubert requested to speak with him alone; and Emily, being left with Madame Quesnel, soon learned that a large party was invited to dine at the chateau, and was compelled to hear that nothing which was past and irremediable ought to prevent the festivity of the present hour.

Pt St. Aubert, when he was told that company were expected, felt a mixed emotion of disgust and indignation against the insensibility of Quesnel, which prompted him to return home immediately. But he was informed, that Madame Cheron had been asked to meet him; and, when he looked at Emily, and considered that a time might come when the enmity of her uncle would be prejudicial to her, he determined not to incur it himself, by conduct which would be resented as indecorous, by the very persons who now showed so little sense of decorum.

Pt Among the visitors assembled at dinner were two Italian gentlemen, of whom one was named Montoni, a distant relation of Madame Quesnel, a man about forty, of an uncommonly handsome person, with features manly and expressive, but whose countenance exhibited, upon the whole, more of the haughtiness of command, and the quickness of discernment, than of any other character.

Pt Signor Cavigni, his friend, appeared to be about thirty - inferior in dignity, but equal to him in penetration of countenance, and superior in insinuation of manner.

Pt Emily was shocked by the salutation with which Madame Cheron met her father - 'Dear brother,'said she, 'I am concerned to see you look so very ill; do, pray, have advice!'St. Aubert answered, with a melancholy smile, that he felt himself much as usual; but Emily's fears made her now fancy that her father looked worse than he really did.

Pt Emily would have been amused by the new characters she saw, and the varied conversation that passed during dinner, which was served in a style of splendour she had seldom seen before, had her spirits been less oppressed. Of the guests, Signor Montoni was lately come from Italy, and he spoke of the commotions which at that period agitated the country; talked of party differences with warmth, and then lamented the probable consequences of the tumults. His friend spoke with equal ardour, of the politics of his country; praised the government and prosperity of Venice, and boasted of its decided superiority over all the other Italian states. He then turned to the ladies, and talked with the same eloquence, of Parisian fashions, the French opera, and French manners; and on the latter subject he did not fail to mingle what is so particularly agreeable to French taste. The flattery was not detected by those to whom it was addressed, though its effect, in producing submissive attention, did not escape his observation. When he could disengage himself from the assiduities of the other ladies, he sometimes addressed Emily: but she knew nothing of Parisian fashions, or Parisian operas; and her modesty, simplicity, and correct manners formed a decided contrast to those of her female companions.

Pt After dinner, St. Aubert stole from the room to view once more the old chesnut which Quesnel talked of cutting down. As he stood under its shade, and looked up among its branches, still luxuriant, and saw here and there the blue sky trembling between them; the pursuits and events of his early days crowded fast to his mind, with the figures and characters of friends - long since gone from the earth; and he now felt himself to be almost an insulated being, with nobody but his Emily for his heart to turn to.

Pt He stood lost amid the scenes of years which fancy called up, till the succession closed with the picture of his dying wife, and he started away, to forget it, if possible, at the social board.

Pt St. Aubert ordered his carriage at an early hour, and Emily observed, that he was more than usually silent and dejected on the way home; but she considered this to be the effect of his visit to a place which spoke so eloquently of former times, nor suspected that he had a cause of grief which he concealed from her.

Pt On entering the chateau she felt more depressed than ever, for she more than ever missed the presence of that dear parent, who, whenever she had been from home, used to welcome her return with smiles and fondness; now, all was silent and forsaken.

Pt But what reason and effort may fail to do, time effects. Week after week passed away, and each, as it passed, stole something from the harshness of her affliction, till it was mellowed to that tenderness which the feeling heart cherishes as sacred. St. Aubert, on the contrary, visibly declined in health; though Emily, who had been so constantly with him, was almost the last person who observed it. His constitution had never recovered from the late attack of the fever, and the succeeding shock it received from Madame St. Aubert's death had produced its present infirmity. His physician now ordered him to travel; for it was perceptible that sorrow had seized upon his nerves, weakened as they had been by the preceding illness; and variety of scene, it was probable, would, by amusing his mind, restore them to their proper tone.

Pt For some days Emily was occupied in preparations to attend him; and he, by endeavours to diminish his expences at home during the journey - a purpose which determined him at length to dismiss his domestics. Emily seldom opposed her father's wishes by questions or remonstrances, or she would now have asked why he did not take a servant, and have represented that his infirm health made one almost necessary. But when, on the eve of their departure, she found that he had dismissed Jacques, Francis, and Mary, and detained only Theresa the old housekeeper, she was extremely surprised, and ventured to ask his reason for having done so. 'To save expences, my dear,'he replied - 'we are going on an expensive excursion.'

Pt The physician had prescribed the air of Languedoc and Provence; and St. Aubert determined, therefore, to travel leisurely along the shores of the Mediterranean, towards Provence.

Pt They retired early to their chamber on the night before their departure; but Emily had a few books and other things to collect, and the clock had struck twelve before she had finished, or had remembered that some of her drawing instruments, which she meant to take with her, were in the parlour below. As she went to fetch these, she passed her father's room, and, perceiving the door half open, concluded that he was in his study - for, since the death of Madame St. Aubert, it had been frequently his custom to rise from his restless bed, and go thither to compose his mind. When she was below stairs she looked into this room, but without finding him; and as she returned to her chamber, she tapped at his door, and receiving no answer, stepped softly in, to be certain whether he was there.

Pt The room was dark, but a light glimmered through some panes of glass that were placed in the upper part of a closet-door. Emily believed her father to be in the closet, and, surprised that he was up at so late an hour, apprehended he was unwell, and was going to enquire; but, considering that her sudden appearance at this hour might alarm him, she removed her light to the stair-case, and then stepped softly to the closet. On looking through the panes of glass, she saw him seated at a small table, with papers before him, some of which he was reading with deep attention and interest, during which he often wept and sobbed aloud. Emily, who had come to the door to learn whether her father was ill, was now detained there by a mixture of curiosity and tenderness. She could not witness his sorrow, without being anxious to know the subject of; and she therefore continued to observe him in silence, concluding that those papers were letters of her late mother. Presently he knelt down, and with a look so solemn as she had seldom seen him assume, and which was mingled with a certain wild expression, that partook more of horror than of any other character, he prayed silently for a considerable time.

Pt When he rose, a ghastly paleness was on his countenance. Emily was hastily retiring; but she saw him turn again to the papers, and she stopped. He took from among them a small case, and from thence a miniature picture. The rays of light fell strongly upon it, and she perceived it to be that of a lady, but not of her mother.

Pt St. Aubert gazed earnestly and tenderly upon his portrait, put it to his lips, and then to his heart, and sighed with a convulsive force. Emily could scarcely believe what she saw to be real. She never knew till now that he had a picture of any other lady than her mother, much less that he had one which he evidently valued so highly; but having looked repeatedly, to be certain that it was not the resemblance of Madame St. Aubert, she became entirely convinced that it was designed for that of some other person.

Pt At length St. Aubert returned the picture to its case; and Emily, recollecting that she was intruding upon his private sorrows, softly withdrew from the chamber.

Chapter III

Pt O how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which nature to her vot'ry yields! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even; All that the mountain's shelt'ring bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven; O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven!..... These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy, impart. THE MINSTREL

Pt St. Aubert, instead of taking the more direct road, that ran along the feet of the Pyrenees to Languedoc, chose one that, winding over the heights, afforded more extensive views and greater variety of romantic scenery. He turned a little out of his way to take leave of M. Barreaux, whom he found botanizing in the wood near his chateau, and who, when he was told the purpose of St. Aubert's visit, expressed a degree of concern, such as his friend had thought it was scarcely possible for him to feel on any similar occasion. They parted with mutual regret.

Pt 'If any thing could have tempted me from my retirement,'said M. Barreaux, 'it would have been the pleasure of accompanying you on this little tour. I do not often offer compliments; you may, therefore, believe me, when I say, that I shall look for your return with impatience.'

Pt The travellers proceeded on their journey. As they ascended the heights, St. Aubert often looked back upon the chateau, in the plain below; tender images crowded to his mind; his melancholy imagination suggested that he should return no more; and though he checked this wandering thought, still he continued to look, till the haziness of distance blended his home with the general landscape, and St. Aubert seemed to

Pt Drag at each remove a lengthening chain.

Pt He and Emily continued sunk in musing silence for some leagues, from which melancholy reverie Emily first awoke, and her young fancy, struck with the grandeur of the objects around, gradually yielded to delightful impressions. The road now descended into glens, confined by stupendous walls of rock, grey and barren, except where shrubs fringed their summits, or patches of meagre vegetation tinted their recesses, in which the wild goat was frequently browsing. And now, the way led to the lofty cliffs, from whence the landscape was seen extending in all its magnificence.

Pt Emily could not restrain her transport as she looked over the pine forests of the mountains upon the vast plains, that, enriched with woods, towns, blushing vines, and plantations of almonds, palms, and olives, stretched along, till their various colours melted in distance into one harmonious hue, that seemed to unite earth with heaven. Through the whole of this glorious scene the majestic Garonne wandered; descending from its source among the Pyrenees, and winding its blue waves towards the Bay of Biscay.

Pt The ruggedness of the unfrequented road often obliged the wanderers to alight from their little carriage, but they thought themselves amply repaid for this inconvenience by the grandeur of the scenes; and, while the muleteer led his animals slowly over the broken ground, the travellers had leisure to linger amid these solitudes, and to indulge the sublime reflections, which soften, while they elevate, the heart, and fill it with the certainty of a present God! Still the enjoyment of St. Aubert was touched with that pensive melancholy, which gives to every object a mellower tint, and breathes a sacred charm over all around.

Pt They had provided against part of the evil to be encountered from a want of convenient inns, by carrying a stock of provisions in the carriage, so that they might take refreshment on any pleasant spot, in the open air, and pass the nights wherever they should happen to meet with a comfortable cottage. For the mind, also, they had provided, by a work on botany, written by M. Barreaux, and by several of the Latin and Italian poets; while Emily's pencil enabled her to preserve some of those combinations of forms, which charmed her at every step.

Pt The loneliness of the road, where, only now and then, a peasant was seen driving his mule, or some mountaineer-children at play among the rocks, heightened the effect of the scenery. St. Aubert was so much struck with it, that he determined, if he could hear of a road, to penetrate further among the mountains, and, bending his way rather more to the south, to emerge into Rousillon, and coast the Mediterranean along part of that country to Languedoc.

Pt Soon after mid-day, they reached the summit of one of those cliffs, which, bright with the verdure of palm-trees, adorn, like gems, the tremendous walls of the rocks, and which overlooked the greater part of Gascony, and part of Languedoc. Here was shade, and the fresh water of a spring, that, gliding among the turf, under the trees, thence precipitated itself from rock to rock, till its dashing murmurs were lost in the abyss, though its white foam was long seen amid the darkness of the pines below.

Pt This was a spot well suited for rest, and the travellers alighted to dine, while the mules were unharnessed to browse on the savoury herbs that enriched this summit.

Pt It was some time before St. Aubert or Emily could withdraw their attention from the surrounding objects, so as to partake of their little repast. Seated in the shade of the palms, St. Aubert pointed out to her observation the course of the rivers, the situation of great towns, and the boundaries of provinces, which science, rather than the eye, enabled him to describe. Notwithstanding this occupation, when he had talked awhile he suddenly became silent, thoughtful, and tears often swelled to his eyes, which Emily observed, and the sympathy of her own heart told her their cause. The scene before them bore some resemblance, though it was on a much grander scale, to a favourite one of the late Madame St. Aubert, within view of the fishing-house. They both observed this, and thought how delighted she would have been with the present landscape, while they knew that her eyes must never, never more open upon this world. St. Aubert remembered the last time of his visiting that spot in company with her, and also the mournfully presaging thoughts which had then arisen in his mind, and were now, even thus soon, realized! The recollections subdued him, and he abruptly rose from his seat, and walked away to where no eye could observe his grief.

Pt When he returned, his countenance had recovered its usual serenity; he took Emily's hand, pressed it affectionately, without speaking, and soon after called to the muleteer, who sat at a little distance, concerning a road among the mountains towards Rousillon. Michael said, there were several that way, but he did not know how far they extended, or even whether they were passable; and St. Aubert, who did not intend to travel after sun-set, asked what village they could reach about that time. The muleteer calculated that they could easily reach Mateau, which was in their present road; but that, if they took a road that sloped more to the south, towards Rousillon, there was a hamlet, which he thought they could gain before the evening shut in.

Pt St. Aubert, after some hesitation, determined to take the latter course, and Michael, having finished his meal, and harnessed his mules, again set forward, but soon stopped; and St. Aubert saw him doing homage to a cross, that stood on a rock impending over their way. Having concluded his devotions, he smacked his whip in the air, and, in spite of the rough road, and the pain of his poor mules, which he had been lately lamenting, rattled, in a full gallop, along the edge of a precipice, which it made the eye dizzy to look down. Emily was terrified almost to fainting; and St. Aubert, apprehending still greater danger from suddenly stopping the driver, was compelled to sit quietly, and trust his fate to the strength and discretion of the mules, who seemed to possess a greater portion of the latter quality than their master; for they carried the travellers safely into the valley, and there stopped upon the brink of the rivulet that watered it.

Pt Leaving the splendour of extensive prospects, they now entered this narrow valley screened by

Pt Rocks on rocks piled, as if by magic spell, Here scorch'd by lightnings, there with ivy green.

Pt The scene of barrenness was here and there interrupted by the spreading branches of the larch and cedar, which threw their gloom over the cliff, or athwart the torrent that rolled in the vale. No living creature appeared, except the izard, scrambling among the rocks, and often hanging upon points so dangerous, that fancy shrunk from the view of them. This was such a scene as SALVATOR would have chosen, had he then existed, for his canvas; St. Aubert, impressed by the romantic character of the place, almost expected to see banditti start from behind some projecting rock, and he kept his hand upon the arms with which he always travelled.

Pt As they advanced, the valley opened; its savage features gradually softened, and, towards evening, they were among heathy mountains, stretched in far perspective, along which the solitary sheep-bell was heard, and the voice of the shepherd calling his wandering flocks to the nightly fold. His cabin, partly shadowed by the cork-tree and the ilex, which St. Aubert observed to flourish in higher regions of the air than any other trees, except the fir, was all the human habitation that yet appeared. Along the bottom of this valley the most vivid verdure was spread; and, in the little hollow recesses of the mountains, under the shade of the oak and chestnut, herds of cattle were grazing. Groups of them, too, were often seen reposing on the banks of the rivulet, or laving their sides in the cool stream, and sipping its wave.

Pt The sun was now setting upon the valley; its last light gleamed upon the water, and heightened the rich yellow and purple tints of the heath and broom, that overspread the mountains. St. Aubert enquired of Michael the distance to the hamlet he had mentioned, but the man could not with certainty tell; and Emily began to fear that he had mistaken the road. Here was no human being to assist, or direct them; they had left the shepherd and his cabin far behind, and the scene became so obscured in twilight, that the eye could not follow the distant perspective of the valley in search of a cottage, or a hamlet. A glow of the horizon still marked the west, and this was of some little use to the travellers. Michael seemed endeavouring to keep up his courage by singing; his music, however, was not of a kind to disperse melancholy; he sung, in a sort of chant, one of the most dismal ditties his present auditors had ever heard, and St. Aubert at length discovered it to be a vesper-hymn to his favourite saint.

Pt They travelled on, sunk in that thoughtful melancholy, with which twilight and solitude impress the mind. Michael had now ended his ditty, and nothing was heard but the drowsy murmur of the breeze among the woods, and its light flutter, as it blew freshly into the carriage. They were at length roused by the sound of fire-arms. St. Aubert called to the muleteer to stop, and they listened. The noise was not repeated; but presently they heard a rustling among the brakes. St. Aubert drew forth a pistol, and ordered Michael to proceed as fast as possible; who had not long obeyed, before a horn sounded, that made the mountains ring. He looked again from the window, and then saw a young man spring from the bushes into the road, followed by a couple of dogs. The stranger was in a hunter's dress. His gun was slung across his shoulders, the hunter's horn hung from his belt, and in his hand was a small pike, which, as he held it, added to the manly grace of his figure, and assisted the agility of his steps.

Pt After a moment's hesitation, St. Aubert again stopped the carriage, and waited till he came up, that they might enquire concerning the hamlet they were in search of. The stranger informed him, that it was only half a league distant, that he was going thither himself, and would readily shew the way. St. Aubert thanked him for the offer, and, pleased with his chevalier-like air and open countenance, asked him to take a seat in the carriage; which the stranger, with an acknowledgment, declined, adding that he would keep pace with the mules. 'But I fear you will be wretchedly accommodated,'said he: 'the inhabitants of these mountains are a simple people, who are not only without the luxuries of life, but almost destitute of what in other places are held to be its necessaries.'

Pt 'I perceive you are not one of its inhabitants, sir,'said St. Aubert.

Pt 'No, sir, I am only a wanderer here.'

Pt The carriage drove on, and the increasing dusk made the travellers very thankful that they had a guide; the frequent glens, too, that now opened among the mountains, would likewise have added to their perplexity. Emily, as she looked up one of these, saw something at a great distance like a bright cloud in the air. 'What light is yonder, sir?'said she.

Pt St. Aubert looked, and perceived that it was the snowy summit of a mountain, so much higher than any around it, that it still reflected the sun's rays, while those below lay in deep shade.

Pt At length, the village lights were seen to twinkle through the dusk, and, soon after, some cottages were discovered in the valley, or rather were seen by reflection in the stream, on whose margin they stood, and which still gleamed with the evening light.

Pt The stranger now came up, and St. Aubert, on further enquiry, found not only that there was no inn in the place, but not any sort of house of public reception. The stranger, however, offered to walk on, and enquire for a cottage to accommodate them; for which further civility St. Aubert returned his thanks, and said, that, as the village was so near, he would alight, and walk with him. Emily followed slowly in the carriage.

Pt On the way, St. Aubert asked his companion what success he had had in the chase. 'Not much, sir,'he replied, 'nor do I aim at it. I am pleased with the country, and mean to saunter away a few weeks among its scenes. My dogs I take with me more for companionship than for game. This dress, too, gives me an ostensible business, and procures me that respect from the people, which would, perhaps, be refused to a lonely stranger, who had no visible motive for coming among them.'

Pt 'I admire your taste,'said St. Aubert, 'and, if I was a younger man, should like to pass a few weeks in your way exceedingly. I, too, am a wanderer, but neither my plan nor pursuits are exactly like yours - I go in search of health, as much as of amusement.'St. Aubert sighed, and paused; and then, seeming to recollect himself, he resumed: 'If I can hear of a tolerable road, that shall afford decent accommodation, it is my intention to pass into Rousillon, and along the sea-shore to Languedoc. You, sir, seem to be acquainted with the country, and can, perhaps, give me information on the subject.'

Pt The stranger said, that what information he could give was entirely at his service; and then mentioned a road rather more to the east, which led to a town, whence it would be easy to proceed into Rousillon.

Pt They now arrived at the village, and commenced their search for a cottage, that would afford a night's lodging. In several, which they entered, ignorance, poverty, and mirth seemed equally to prevail; and the owners eyed St. Aubert with a mixture of curiosity and timidity. Nothing like a bed could be found, and he had ceased to enquire for one, when Emily joined him, who observed the languor of her father's countenance, and lamented, that he had taken a road so ill provided with the comforts necessary for an invalid. Other cottages, which they examined, seemed somewhat less savage than the former, consisting of two rooms, if such they could be called; the first of these occupied by mules and pigs, the second by the family, which generally consisted of six or eight children, with their parents, who slept on beds of skins and dried beech leaves, spread upon a mud floor. Here, light was admitted, and smoke discharged, through an aperture in the roof; and here the scent of spirits (for the travelling smugglers, who haunted the Pyrenees, had made this rude people familiar with the use of liquors) was generally perceptible enough. Emily turned from such scenes, and looked at her father with anxious tenderness, which the young stranger seemed to observe; for, drawing St. Aubert aside, he made him an offer of his own bed. 'It is a decent one,'said he, 'when compared with what we have just seen, yet such as in other circumstances I should be ashamed to offer you.'St. Aubert acknowledged how much he felt himself obliged by this kindness, but refused to accept it, till the young stranger would take no denial. 'Do not give me the pain of knowing, sir,'said he, 'that an invalid, like you, lies on hard skins, while I sleep in a bed. Besides, sir, your refusal wounds my pride; I must believe you think my offer unworthy your acceptance. Let me shew you the way. I have no doubt my landlady can accommodate this young lady also.'

Pt St. Aubert at length consented, that, if this could be done, he would accept his kindness, though he felt rather surprised, that the stranger had proved himself so deficient in gallantry, as to administer to the repose of an infirm man, rather than to that of a very lovely young woman, for he had not once offered the room for Emily. But she thought not of herself, and the animated smile she gave him, told how much she felt herself obliged for the preference of her father.

Pt On their way, the stranger, whose name was Valancourt, stepped on first to speak to his hostess, and she came out to welcome St. Aubert into a cottage, much superior to any he had seen. This good woman seemed very willing to accommodate the strangers, who were soon compelled to accept the only two beds in the place. Eggs and milk were the only food the cottage afforded; but against scarcity of provisions St. Aubert had provided, and he requested Valancourt to stay, and partake with him of less homely fare; an invitation, which was readily accepted, and they passed an hour in intelligent conversation. St. Aubert was much pleased with the manly frankness, simplicity, and keen susceptibility to the grandeur of nature, which his new acquaintance discovered; and, indeed, he had often been heard to say, that, without a certain simplicity of heart, this taste could not exist in any strong degree.

Pt The conversation was interrupted by a violent uproar without, in which the voice of the muleteer was heard above every other sound. Valancourt started from his seat, and went to enquire the occasion; but the dispute continued so long afterwards, that St. Aubert went himself, and found Michael quarrelling with the hostess, because she had refused to let his mules lie in a little room where he and three of her sons were to pass the night. The place was wretched enough, but there was no other for these people to sleep in; and, with somewhat more of delicacy than was usual among the inhabitants of this wild tract of country, she persisted in refusing to let the animals have the same BED-CHAMBER with her children. This was a tender point with the muleteer; his honour was wounded when his mules were treated with disrespect, and he would have received a blow, perhaps, with more meekness. He declared that his beasts were as honest beasts, and as good beasts, as any in the whole province; and that they had a right to be well treated wherever they went. 'They are as harmless as lambs,'said he, 'if people don't affront them. I never knew them behave themselves amiss above once or twice in my life, and then they had good reason for doing so. Once, indeed, they kicked at a boy's leg that lay asleep in the stable, and broke it; but I told them they were out there, and by St. Anthony! I believe they understood me, for they never did so again.'

Pt He concluded this eloquent harangue with protesting, that they should share with him, go where he would.

Pt The dispute was at length settled by Valancourt, who drew the hostess aside, and desired she would let the muleteer and his beasts have the place in question to themselves, while her sons should have the bed of skins designed for him, for that he would wrap himself in his cloak, and sleep on the bench by the cottage door. But this she thought it her duty to oppose, and she felt it to be her inclination to disappoint the muleteer. Valancourt, however, was positive, and the tedious affair was at length settled.

Pt It was late when St. Aubert and Emily retired to their rooms, and Valancourt to his station at the door, which, at this mild season, he preferred to a close cabin and a bed of skins. St. Aubert was somewhat surprised to find in his room volumes of Homer, Horace, and Petrarch; but the name of Valancourt, written in them, told him to whom they belonged.

Chapter IV

Pt In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene, In darkness, and in storm he found delight; Nor less than when on ocean-wave serene The southern sun diffus'd his dazzling sheen. Even sad vicissitude amus'd his soul; And if a sigh would sometimes intervene, And down his cheek a tear of pity roll, A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wish'd not to controul. THE MINSTREL

Pt St. Aubert awoke at an early hour, refreshed by sleep, and desirous to set forward. He invited the stranger to breakfast with him; and, talking again of the road, Valancourt said, that, some months past, he had travelled as far as Beaujeu, which was a town of some consequence on the way to Rousillon. He recommended it to St. Aubert to take that route, and the latter determined to do so.

Pt 'The road from this hamlet,'said Valancourt, 'and that to Beaujeu, part at the distance of about a league and a half from hence; if you will give me leave, I will direct your muleteer so far. I must wander somewhere, and your company would make this a pleasanter ramble than any other I could take.'

Pt St. Aubert thankfully accepted his offer, and they set out together, the young stranger on foot, for he refused the invitation of St. Aubert to take a seat in his little carriage.

Pt The road wound along the feet of the mountains through a pastoral valley, bright with verdure, and varied with groves of dwarf oak, beech and sycamore, under whose branches herds of cattle reposed. The mountain-ash too, and the weeping birch, often threw their pendant foliage over the steeps above, where the scanty soil scarcely concealed their roots, and where their light branches waved to every breeze that fluttered from the mountains.

Pt The travellers were frequently met at this early hour, for the sun had not yet risen upon the valley, by shepherds driving immense flocks from their folds to feed upon the hills. St. Aubert had set out thus early, not only that he might enjoy the first appearance of sunrise, but that he might inhale the first pure breath of morning, which above all things is refreshing to the spirits of the invalid. In these regions it was particularly so, where an abundance of wild flowers and aromatic herbs breathed forth their essence on the air.

Pt The dawn, which softened the scenery with its peculiar grey tint, now dispersed, and Emily watched the progress of the day, first trembling on the tops of the highest cliffs, then touching them with splendid light, while their sides and the vale below were still wrapt in dewy mist. Meanwhile, the sullen grey of the eastern clouds began to blush, then to redden, and then to glow with a thousand colours, till the golden light darted over all the air, touched the lower points of the mountain's brow, and glanced in long sloping beams upon the valley and its stream. All nature seemed to have awakened from death into life; the spirit of St. Aubert was renovated. His heart was full; he wept, and his thoughts ascended to the Great Creator.

Pt Emily wished to trip along the turf, so green and bright with dew, and to taste the full delight of that liberty, which the izard seemed to enjoy as he bounded along the brow of the cliffs; while Valancourt often stopped to speak with the travellers, and with social feeling to point out to them the peculiar objects of his admiration. St. Aubert was pleased with him: 'Here is the real ingenuousness and ardour of youth,'said he to himself; 'this young man has never been at Paris.'

Pt He was sorry when they came to the spot where the roads parted, and his heart took a more affectionate leave of him than is usual after so short an acquaintance. Valancourt talked long by the side of the carriage; seemed more than once to be going, but still lingered, and appeared to search anxiously for topics of conversation to account for his delay. At length he took leave. As he went, St. Aubert observed him look with an earnest and pensive eye at Emily, who bowed to him with a countenance full of timid sweetness, while the carriage drove on. St. Aubert, for whatever reason, soon after looked from the window, and saw Valancourt standing upon the bank of the road, resting on his pike with folded arms, and following the carriage with his eyes. He waved his hand, and Valancourt, seeming to awake from his reverie, returned the salute, and started away.

Pt The aspect of the country now began to change, and the travellers soon found themselves among mountains covered from their base nearly to their summits with forests of gloomy pine, except where a rock of granite shot up from the vale, and lost its snowy top in the clouds. The rivulet, which had hitherto accompanied them, now expanded into a river; and, flowing deeply and silently along, reflected, as in a mirror, the blackness of the impending shades. Sometimes a cliff was seen lifting its bold head above the woods and the vapours, that floated mid-way down the mountains; and sometimes a face of perpendicular marble rose from the water's edge, over which the larch threw his gigantic arms, here scathed with lightning, and there floating in luxuriant foliage.

Pt They continued to travel over a rough and unfrequented road, seeing now and then at a distance the solitary shepherd, with his dog, stalking along the valley, and hearing only the dashing of torrents, which the woods concealed from the eye, the long sullen murmur of the breeze, as it swept over the pines, or the notes of the eagle and the vulture, which were seen towering round the beetling cliff.

Pt Often, as the carriage moved slowly over uneven ground, St. Aubert alighted, and amused himself with examining the curious plants that grew on the banks of the road, and with which these regions abound; while Emily, wrapt in high enthusiasm, wandered away under the shades, listening in deep silence to the lonely murmur of the woods.

Pt Neither village nor hamlet was seen for many leagues; the goat-herd's or the hunter's cabin, perched among the cliffs of the rocks, were the only human habitations that appeared.

Pt The travellers again took their dinner in the open air, on a pleasant spot in the valley, under the spreading shade of cedars; and then set forward towards Beaujeu.

Pt The road now began to descend, and, leaving the pine forests behind, wound among rocky precipices. The evening twilight again fell over the scene, and the travellers were ignorant how far they might yet be from Beaujeu. St. Aubert, however, conjectured that the distance could not be very great, and comforted himself with the prospect of travelling on a more frequented road after reaching that town, where he designed to pass the night. Mingled woods, and rocks, and heathy mountains were now seen obscurely through the dusk; but soon even these imperfect images faded in darkness. Michael proceeded with caution, for he could scarcely distinguish the road; his mules, however, seemed to have more sagacity, and their steps were sure.

Pt On turning the angle of a mountain, a light appeared at a distance, that illumined the rocks, and the horizon to a great extent. It was evidently a large fire, but whether accidental, or otherwise, there were no means of knowing. St. Aubert thought it was probably kindled by some of the numerous banditti, that infested the Pyrenees, and he became watchful and anxious to know whether the road passed near this fire. He had arms with him, which, on an emergency, might afford some protection, though certainly a very unequal one, against a band of robbers, so desperate too as those usually were who haunted these wild regions. While many reflections rose upon his mind, he heard a voice shouting from the road behind, and ordering the muleteer to stop. St. Aubert bade him proceed as fast as possible; but either Michael, or his mules were obstinate, for they did not quit the old pace. Horses'feet were now heard; a man rode up to the carriage, still ordering the driver to stop; and St. Aubert, who could no longer doubt his purpose, was with difficulty able to prepare a pistol for his defence, when his hand was upon the door of the chaise. The man staggered on his horse, the report of the pistol was followed by a groan, and St. Aubert's horror may be imagined, when in the next instant he thought he heard the faint voice of Valancourt. He now himself bade the muleteer stop; and, pronouncing the name of Valancourt, was answered in a voice, that no longer suffered him to doubt. St. Aubert, who instantly alighted and went to his assistance, found him still sitting on his horse, but bleeding profusely, and appearing to be in great pain, though he endeavoured to soften the terror of St. Aubert by assurances that he was not materially hurt, the wound being only in his arm. St. Aubert, with the muleteer, assisted him to dismount, and he sat down on the bank of the road, where St. Aubert tried to bind up his arm, but his hands trembled so excessively that he could not accomplish it; and, Michael being now gone in pursuit of the horse, which, on being disengaged from his rider, had galloped off, he called Emily to his assistance. Receiving no answer, he went to the carriage, and found her sunk on the seat in a fainting fit. Between the distress of this circumstance and that of leaving Valancourt bleeding, he scarcely knew what he did; he endeavoured, however, to raise her, and called to Michael to fetch water from the rivulet that flowed by the road, but Michael was gone beyond the reach of his voice. Valancourt, who heard these calls, and also the repeated name of Emily, instantly understood the subject of his distress; and, almost forgetting his own condition, he hastened to her relief. She was reviving when he reached the carriage; and then, understanding that anxiety for him had occasioned her indisposition, he assured her, in a voice that trembled, but not from anguish, that his wound was of no consequence. While he said this St. Aubert turned round, and perceiving that he was still bleeding, the subject of his alarm changed again, and he hastily formed some handkerchiefs into a bandage. This stopped the effusion of the blood; but St. Aubert, dreading the consequence of the wound, enquired repeatedly how far they were from Beaujeu; when, learning that it was at two leagues'distance, his distress increased, since he knew not how Valancourt, in his present state, would bear the motion of the carriage, and perceived that he was already faint from loss of blood. When he mentioned the subject of his anxiety, Valancourt entreated that he would not suffer himself to be thus alarmed on his account, for that he had no doubt he should be able to support himself very well; and then he talked of the accident as a slight one. The muleteer being now returned with Valancourt's horse, assisted him into the chaise; and, as Emily was now revived, they moved slowly on towards Beaujeu.

Pt St. Aubert, when he had recovered from the terror occasioned him by this accident, expressed surprise on seeing Valancourt, who explained his unexpected appearance by saying, 'You, sir, renewed my taste for society; when you had left the hamlet, it did indeed appear a solitude. I determined, therefore, since my object was merely amusement, to change the scene; and I took this road, because I knew it led through a more romantic tract of mountains than the spot I have left. Besides,'added he, hesitating for an instant, 'I will own, and why should I not? that I had some hope of overtaking you.'

Pt 'And I have made you a very unexpected return for the compliment,'said St. Aubert, who lamented again the rashness which had produced the accident, and explained the cause of his late alarm. But Valancourt seemed anxious only to remove from the minds of his companions every unpleasant feeling relative to himself; and, for that purpose, still struggled against a sense of pain, and tried to converse with gaiety. Emily meanwhile was silent, except when Valancourt particularly addressed her, and there was at those times a tremulous tone in his voice that spoke much.

Pt They were now so near the fire, which had long flamed at a distance on the blackness of night, that it gleamed upon the road, and they could distinguish figures moving about the blaze. The way winding still nearer, they perceived in the valley one of those numerous bands of gipsies, which at that period particularly haunted the wilds of the Pyrenees, and lived partly by plundering the traveller. Emily looked with some degree of terror on the savage countenances of these people, shewn by the fire, which heightened the romantic effects of the scenery, as it threw a red dusky gleam upon the rocks and on the foliage of the trees, leaving heavy masses of shade and regions of obscurity, which the eye feared to penetrate.

Pt They were preparing their supper; a large pot stood by the fire, over which several figures were busy. The blaze discovered a rude kind of tent, round which many children and dogs were playing, and the whole formed a picture highly grotesque. The travellers saw plainly their danger. Valancourt was silent, but laid his hand on one of St. Aubert's pistols; St. Aubert drew forth another, and Michael was ordered to proceed as fast as possible. They passed the place, however, without being attacked; the rovers being probably unprepared for the opportunity, and too busy about their supper to feel much interest, at the moment, in any thing besides.

Pt After a league and a half more, passed in darkness, the travellers arrived at Beaujeu, and drove up to the only inn the place afforded; which, though superior to any they had seen since they entered the mountains, was bad enough.

Pt The surgeon of the town was immediately sent for, if a surgeon he could be called, who prescribed for horses as well as for men, and shaved faces at least as dexterously as he set bones. After examining Valancourt's arm, and perceiving that the bullet had passed through the flesh without touching the bone, he dressed it, and left him with a solemn prescription of quiet, which his patient was not inclined to obey. The delight of ease had now succeeded to pain; for ease may be allowed to assume a positive quality when contrasted with anguish; and, his spirits thus re-animated, he wished to partake of the conversation of St. Aubert and Emily, who, released from so many apprehensions, were uncommonly cheerful. Late as it was, however, St. Aubert was obliged to go out with the landlord to buy meat for supper; and Emily, who, during this interval, had been absent as long as she could, upon excuses of looking to their accommodation, which she found rather better than she expected, was compelled to return, and converse with Valancourt alone. They talked of the character of the scenes they had passed, of the natural history of the country, of poetry, and of St. Aubert; a subject on which Emily always spoke and listened to with peculiar pleasure.

Pt The travellers passed an agreeable evening; but St. Aubert was fatigued with his journey; and, as Valancourt seemed again sensible of pain, they separated soon after supper.

Pt In the morning St. Aubert found that Valancourt had passed a restless night; that he was feverish, and his wound very painful. The surgeon, when he dressed it, advised him to remain quietly at Beaujeu; advice which was too reasonable to be rejected. St. Aubert, however, had no favourable opinion of this practitioner, and was anxious to commit Valancourt into more skilful hands; but learning, upon enquiry, that there was no town within several leagues which seemed more likely to afford better advice, he altered the plan of his journey, and determined to await the recovery of Valancourt, who, with somewhat more ceremony than sincerity, made many objections to this delay.

Pt By order of his surgeon, Valancourt did not go out of the house that day; but St. Aubert and Emily surveyed with delight the environs of the town, situated at the feet of the Pyrenean Alps, that rose, some in abrupt precipices, and others swelling with woods of cedar, fir, and cypress, which stretched nearly to their highest summits. The cheerful green of the beech and mountain-ash was sometimes seen, like a gleam of light, amidst the dark verdure of the forest; and sometimes a torrent poured its sparkling flood, high among the woods.

Pt Valancourt's indisposition detained the travellers at Beaujeu several days, during which interval St. Aubert had observed his disposition and his talents with the philosophic inquiry so natural to him. He saw a frank and generous nature, full of ardour, highly susceptible of whatever is grand and beautiful, but impetuous, wild, and somewhat romantic. Valancourt had known little of the world. His perceptions were clear, and his feelings just; his indignation of an unworthy, or his admiration of a generous action, were expressed in terms of equal vehemence. St. Aubert sometimes smiled at his warmth, but seldom checked it, and often repeated to himself, 'This young man has never been at Paris.'A sigh sometimes followed this silent ejaculation. He determined not to leave Valancourt till he should be perfectly recovered; and, as he was now well enough to travel, though not able to manage his horse, St. Aubert invited him to accompany him for a few days in the carriage. This he the more readily did, since he had discovered that Valancourt was of a family of the same name in Gascony, with whose respectability he was well acquainted. The latter accepted the offer with great pleasure, and they again set forward among these romantic wilds about Rousillon.

Pt They travelled leisurely; stopping wherever a scene uncommonly grand appeared; frequently alighting to walk to an eminence, whither the mules could not go, from which the prospect opened in greater magnificence; and often sauntering over hillocks covered with lavender, wild thyme, juniper, and tamarisc; and under the shades of woods, between those boles they caught the long mountain-vista, sublime beyond any thing that Emily had ever imagined.

Pt St. Aubert sometimes amused himself with botanizing, while Valancourt and Emily strolled on; he pointing out to her notice the objects that particularly charmed him, and reciting beautiful passages from such of the Latin and Italian poets as he had heard her admire. In the pauses of conversation, when he thought himself not observed, he frequently fixed his eyes pensively on her countenance, which expressed with so much animation the taste and energy of her mind; and when he spoke again, there was a peculiar tenderness in the tone of his voice, that defeated any attempt to conceal his sentiments. By degrees these silent pauses became more frequent; till Emily, only, betrayed an anxiety to interrupt them; and she; who had been hitherto reserved, would now talk again, and again, of the woods and the vallies and the mountains, to avoid the danger of sympathy and silence.

Pt From Beaujeu the road had constantly ascended, conducting the travellers into the higher regions of the air, where immense glaciers exhibited their frozen horrors, and eternal snow whitened the summits of the mountains. They often paused to contemplate these stupendous scenes, and, seated on some wild cliff, where only the ilex or the larch could flourish, looked over dark forests of fir, and precipices where human foot had never wandered, into the glen - so deep, that the thunder of the torrent, which was seen to foam along the bottom, was scarcely heard to murmur. Over these crags rose others of stupendous height, and fantastic shape; some shooting into cones; others impending far over their base, in huge masses of granite, along whose broken ridges was often lodged a weight of snow, that, trembling even to the vibration of a sound, threatened to bear destruction in its course to the vale. Around, on every side, far as the eye could penetrate, were seen only forms of grandeur - the long perspective of mountain-tops, tinged with ethereal blue, or white with snow; vallies of ice, and forests of gloomy fir. The serenity and clearness of the air in these high regions were particularly delightful to the travellers; it seemed to inspire them with a finer spirit, and diffused an indescribable complacency over their minds. They had no words to express the sublime emotions they felt. A solemn expression characterized the feelings of St. Aubert; tears often came to his eyes, and he frequently walked away from his companions. Valancourt now and then spoke, to point to Emily's notice some feature of the scene. The thinness of the atmosphere, through which every object came so distinctly to the eye, surprised and deluded her; who could scarcely believe that objects, which appeared so near, were, in reality, so distant. The deep silence of these solitudes was broken only at intervals by the scream of the vultures, seen cowering round some cliff below, or by the cry of the eagle sailing high in the air; except when the travellers listened to the hollow thunder that sometimes muttered at their feet. While, above, the deep blue of the heavens was unobscured by the lightest cloud, half way down the mountains, long billows of vapour were frequently seen rolling, now wholly excluding the country below, and now opening, and partially revealing its features. Emily delighted to observe the grandeur of these clouds as they changed in shape and tints, and to watch their various effect on the lower world, whose features, partly veiled, were continually assuming new forms of sublimity.

Pt After traversing these regions for many leagues, they began to descend towards Rousillon, and features of beauty then mingled with the scene. Yet the travellers did not look back without some regret to the sublime objects they had quitted; though the eye, fatigued with the extension of its powers, was glad to repose on the verdure of woods and pastures, that now hung on the margin of the river below; to view again the humble cottage shaded by cedars, the playful group of mountaineer-children, and the flowery nooks that appeared among the hills.

Pt As they descended, they saw at a distance, on the right, one of the grand passes of the Pyrenees into Spain, gleaming with its battlements and towers to the splendour of the setting rays, yellow tops of woods colouring the steeps below, while far above aspired the snowy points of the mountains, still reflecting a rosy hue.

Pt St. Aubert began to look out for the little town he had been directed to by the people of Beaujeu, and where he meant to pass the night; but no habitation yet appeared. Of its distance Valancourt could not assist him to judge, for he had never been so far along this chain of Alps before. There was, however, a road to guide them; and there could be little doubt that it was the right one; for, since they had left Beaujeu, there had been no variety of tracks to perplex or mislead.

Pt The sun now gave his last light, and St. Aubert bade the muleteer proceed with all possible dispatch. He found, indeed, the lassitude of illness return upon him, after a day of uncommon fatigue, both of body and mind, and he longed for repose. His anxiety was not soothed by observing a numerous train, consisting of men, horses, and loaded mules, winding down the steeps of an opposite mountain, appearing and disappearing at intervals among the woods, so that its numbers could not be judged of. Something bright, like arms, glanced in the setting ray, and the military dress was distinguishable upon the men who were in the van, and on others scattered among the troop that followed. As these wound into the vale, the rear of the party emerged from the woods, and exhibited a band of soldiers. St. Aubert's apprehensions now subsided; he had no doubt that the train before him consisted of smugglers, who, in conveying prohibited goods over the Pyrenees, had been encountered, and conquered by a party of troops.

Pt The travellers had lingered so long among the sublimer scenes of these mountains, that they found themselves entirely mistaken in their calculation that they could reach Montigny at sun-set; but, as they wound along the valley, the saw, on a rude Alpine bridge, that united two lofty crags of the glen, a group of mountaineer-children, amusing themselves with dropping pebbles into a torrent below, and watching the stones plunge into the water, that threw up its white spray high in the air as it received them, and returned a sullen sound, which the echoes of the mountains prolonged. Under the bridge was seen a perspective of the valley, with its cataract descending among the rocks, and a cottage on a cliff, overshadowed with pines. It appeared, that they could not be far from some small town. St. Aubert bade the muleteer stop, and then called to the children to enquire if he was near Montigny; but the distance, and the roaring of the waters, would not suffer his voice to be heard; and the crags, adjoining the bridge, were of such tremendous height and steepness, that to have climbed either would have been scarcely practicable to a person unacquainted with the ascent. St. Aubert, therefore, did not waste more moments in delay. They continued to travel long after twilight had obscured the road, which was so broken, that, now thinking it safer to walk than to ride, they all alighted. The moon was rising, but her light was yet too feeble to assist them. While they stepped carefully on, they heard the vesper-bell of a convent. The twilight would not permit them to distinguish anything like a building, but the sounds seemed to come from some woods, that overhung an acclivity to the right. Valancourt proposed to go in search of this convent. 'If they will not accommodate us with a night's lodging,'said he, 'they may certainly inform us how far we are from Montigny, and direct us towards it.'He was bounding forward, without waiting St. Aubert's reply, when the latter stopped him. 'I am very weary,'said St. Aubert, 'and wish for nothing so much as for immediate rest. We will all go to the convent; your good looks would defeat our purpose; but when they see mine and Emily's exhausted countenances, they will scarcely deny us repose.'

Pt As he said this, he took Emily's arm within his, and, telling Michael to wait awhile in the road with the carriage, they began to ascend towards the woods, guided by the bell of the convent. His steps were feeble, and Valancourt offered him his arm, which he accepted. The moon now threw a faint light over their path, and, soon after, enabled them to distinguish some towers rising above the tops of the woods. Still following the note of the bell, they entered the shade of those woods, lighted only by the moonbeams, that glided down between the leaves, and threw a tremulous uncertain gleam upon the steep track they were winding. The gloom and the silence that prevailed, except when the bell returned upon the air, together with the wildness of the surrounding scene, struck Emily with a degree of fear, which, however, the voice and conversation of Valancourt somewhat repressed. When they had been some time ascending, St. Aubert complained of weariness, and they stopped to rest upon a little green summit, where the trees opened, and admitted the moon-light. He sat down upon the turf, between Emily and Valancourt. The bell had now ceased, and the deep repose of the scene was undisturbed by any sound, for the low dull murmur of some distant torrents might be said to sooth, rather than to interrupt, the silence.

Pt Before them, extended the valley they had quitted; its rocks, and woods to the left, just silvered by the rays, formed a contrast to the deep shadow, that involved the opposite cliffs, whose fringed summits only were tipped with light; while the distant perspective of the valley was lost in the yellow mist of moon-light. The travellers sat for some time wrapt in the complacency which such scenes inspire.

Pt 'These scenes,'said Valancourt, at length, 'soften the heart, like the notes of sweet music, and inspire that delicious melancholy which no person, who had felt it once, would resign for the gayest pleasures. They waken our best and purest feelings, disposing us to benevolence, pity, and friendship. Those whom I love - I always seem to love more in such an hour as this.'His voice trembled, and he paused.

Pt St. Aubert was silent; Emily perceived a warm tear fall upon the hand he held; she knew the object of his thoughts; hers too had, for some time, been occupied by the remembrance of her mother. He seemed by an effort to rouse himself. 'Yes,'said he, with an half-suppressed sigh, 'the memory of those we love - of times for ever past! in such an hour as this steals upon the mind, like a strain of distant music in the stillness of night; - all tender and harmonious as this landscape, sleeping in the mellow moon-light.'After the pause of a moment, St. Aubert added, 'I have always fancied, that I thought with more clearness, and precision, at such an hour than at any other, and that heart must be insensible in a great degree, that does not soften to its influence. But many such there are.'

Pt Valancourt sighed.

Pt 'Are there, indeed, many such?'said Emily.

Pt 'A few years hence, my Emily,'replied St. Aubert, 'and you may smile at the recollection of that question - if you do not weep to it. But come, I am somewhat refreshed, let us proceed.'

Pt Having emerged from the woods, they saw, upon a turfy hillock above, the convent of which they were in search. A high wall, that surrounded it, led them to an ancient gate, at which they knocked; and the poor monk, who opened it, conducted them into a small adjoining room, where he desired they would wait while he informed the superior of their request. In this interval, several friars came in separately to look at them; and at length the first monk returned, and they followed him to a room, where the superior was sitting in an arm-chair, with a large folio volume, printed in black letter, open on a desk before him. He received them with courtesy, though he did not rise from his seat; and, having asked them a few questions, granted their request. After a short conversation, formal and solemn on the part of the superior, they withdrew to the apartment where they were to sup, and Valancourt, whom one of the inferior friars civilly desired to accompany, went to seek Michael and his mules. They had not descended half way down the cliffs, before they heard the voice of the muleteer echoing far and wide. Sometimes he called on St. Aubert, and sometimes on Valancourt; who having, at length, convinced him that he had nothing to fear either for himself, or his master; and having disposed of him, for the night, in a cottage on the skirts of the woods, returned to sup with his friends, on such sober fare as the monks thought it prudent to set before them. While St. Aubert was too much indisposed to share it, Emily, in her anxiety for her father, forgot herself; and Valancourt, silent and thoughtful, yet never inattentive to them, appeared particularly solicitous to accommodate and relieve St. Aubert, who often observed, while his daughter was pressing him to eat, or adjusting the pillow she had placed in the back of his arm-chair, that Valancourt fixed on her a look of pensive tenderness, which he was not displeased to understand.

Pt They separated at an early hour, and retired to their respective apartments. Emily was shown to hers by a nun of the convent, whom she was glad to dismiss, for her heart was melancholy, and her attention so much abstracted, that conversation with a stranger was painful. She thought her father daily declining, and attributed his present fatigue more to the feeble state of his frame, than to the difficulty of the journey. A train of gloomy ideas haunted her mind, till she fell asleep.

Pt In about two hours after, she was awakened by the chiming of a bell, and then heard quick steps pass along the gallery, into which her chamber opened. She was so little accustomed to the manners of a convent, as to be alarmed by this circumstance; her fears, ever alive for her father, suggested that he was very ill, and she rose in haste to go to him. Having paused, however, to let the persons in the gallery pass before she opened her door, her thoughts, in the mean time, recovered from the confusion of sleep, and she understood that the bell was the call of the monks to prayers. It had now ceased, and, all being again still, she forbore to go to St. Aubert's room. Her mind was not disposed for immediate sleep, and the moon-light, that shone into her chamber, invited her to open the casement, and look out upon the country.

Pt It was a still and beautiful night, the sky was unobscured by any cloud, and scarce a leaf of the woods beneath trembled in the air. As she listened, the mid-night hymn of the monks rose softly from a chapel, that stood on one of the lower cliffs, an holy strain, that seemed to ascend through the silence of night to heaven, and her thoughts ascended with it. From the consideration of His works, her mind arose to the adoration of the Deity, in His goodness and power; wherever she turned her view, whether on the sleeping earth, or to the vast regions of space, glowing with worlds beyond the reach of human thought, the sublimity of God, and the majesty of His presence appeared. Her eyes were filled with tears of awful love and admiration; and she felt that pure devotion, superior to all the distinctions of human system, which lifts the soul above this world, and seems to expand it into a nobler nature; such devotion as can, perhaps, only be experienced, when the mind, rescued, for a moment, from the humbleness of earthly considerations, aspires to contemplate His power in the sublimity of His works, and His goodness in the infinity of His blessings.

Pt Is it not now the hour, The holy hour, when to the cloudless height Of yon starred concave climbs the full-orbed moon, And to this nether world in solemn stillness, Gives sign, that, to the list'ning ear of Heaven Religion's voice should plead? The very babe Knows this, and, chance awak'd, his little hands Lifts to the gods, and on his innocent couch Calls down a blessing.* *Caractacus

Pt The midnight chant of the monks soon after dropped into silence; but Emily remained at the casement, watching the setting moon, and the valley sinking into deep shade, and willing to prolong her present state of mind. At length she retired to her mattress, and sunk into tranquil slumber.

While in the rosy vale Love breath'd his infant sighs, from anguish free. Thomson

Pt St. Aubert, sufficiently restored by a night's repose to pursue his journey, set out in the morning, with his family and Valancourt, for Rousillon, which he hoped to reach before night-fall. The scenes, through which they now passed, were as wild and romantic, as any they had yet observed, with this difference, that beauty, every now and then, softened the landscape into smiles. Little woody recesses appeared among the mountains, covered with bright verdure and flowers; or a pastoral valley opened its grassy bosom in the shade of the cliffs, with flocks and herds loitering along the banks of a rivulet, that refreshed it with perpetual green. St. Aubert could not repent the having taken this fatiguing road, though he was this day, also, frequently obliged to alight, to walk along the rugged precipice, and to climb the steep and flinty mountain. The wonderful sublimity and variety of the prospects repaid him for all this, and the enthusiasm, with which they were viewed by his young companions, heightened his own, and awakened a remembrance of all the delightful emotions of his early days, when the sublime charms of nature were first unveiled to him. He found great pleasure in conversing with Valancourt, and in listening to his ingenuous remarks. The fire and simplicity of his manners seemed to render him a characteristic figure in the scenes around them; and St. Aubert discovered in his sentiments the justness and the dignity of an elevated mind, unbiased by intercourse with the world. He perceived, that his opinions were formed, rather than imbibed; were more the result of thought, than of learning. Of the world he seemed to know nothing; for he believed well of all mankind, and this opinion gave him the reflected image of his own heart.

Pt St. Aubert, as he sometimes lingered to examine the wild plants in his path, often looked forward with pleasure to Emily and Valancourt, as they strolled on together; he, with a countenance of animated delight, pointing to her attention some grand feature of the scene; and she, listening and observing with a look of tender seriousness, that spoke the elevation of her mind. They appeared like two lovers who had never strayed beyond these their native mountains; whose situation had secluded them from the frivolities of common life, whose ideas were simple and grand, like the landscapes among which they moved, and who knew no other happiness, than in the union of pure and affectionate hearts. St. Aubert smiled, and sighed at the romantic picture of felicity his fancy drew; and sighed again to think, that nature and simplicity were so little known to the world, as that their pleasures were thought romantic.

Pt 'The world,'said he, pursuing this train of thought, 'ridicules a passion which it seldom feels; its scenes, and its interests, distract the mind, deprave the taste, corrupt the heart, and love cannot exist in a heart that has lost the meek dignity of innocence. Virtue and taste are nearly the same, for virtue is little more than active taste, and the most delicate affections of each combine in real love. How then are we to look for love in great cities, where selfishness, dissipation, and insincerity supply the place of tenderness, simplicity and truth?'

Pt It was near noon, when the travellers, having arrived at a piece of steep and dangerous road, alighted to walk. The road wound up an ascent, that was clothed with wood, and, instead of following the carriage, they entered the refreshing shade. A dewy coolness was diffused upon the air, which, with the bright verdure of turf, that grew under the trees, the mingled fragrance of flowers and of balm, thyme, and lavender, that enriched it, and the grandeur of the pines, beech, and chestnuts, that overshadowed them, rendered this a most delicious retreat. Sometimes, the thick foliage excluded all view of the country; at others, it admitted some partial catches of the distant scenery, which gave hints to the imagination to picture landscapes more interesting, more impressive, than any that had been presented to the eye. The wanderers often lingered to indulge in these reveries of fancy.

Pt The pauses of silence, such as had formerly interrupted the conversations of Valancourt and Emily, were more frequent today than ever. Valancourt often dropped suddenly from the most animating vivacity into fits of deep musing, and there was, sometimes, an unaffected melancholy in his smile, which Emily could not avoid understanding, for her heart was interested in the sentiment it spoke.

Pt St. Aubert was refreshed by the shades, and they continued to saunter under them, following, as nearly as they could guess, the direction of the road, till they perceived that they had totally lost it. They had continued near the brow of the precipice, allured by the scenery it exhibited, while the road wound far away over the cliff above. Valancourt called loudly to Michael, but heard no voice, except his own, echoing among the rocks, and his various efforts to regain the road were equally unsuccessful. While they were thus circumstanced, they perceived a shepherd's cabin, between the boles of the trees at some distance, and Valancourt bounded on first to ask assistance. When he reached it, he saw only two little children, at play, on the turf before the door. He looked into the hut, but no person was there, and the eldest of the boys told him that their father was with his flocks, and their mother was gone down into the vale, but would be back presently. As he stood, considering what was further to be done, on a sudden he heard Michael's voice roaring forth most manfully among the cliffs above, till he made their echoes ring. Valancourt immediately answered the call, and endeavoured to make his way through the thicket that clothed the steeps, following the direction of the sound. After much struggle over brambles and precipices, he reached Michael, and at length prevailed with him to be silent, and to listen to him. The road was at a considerable distance from the spot where St. Aubert and Emily were; the carriage could not easily return to the entrance of the wood, and, since it would be very fatiguing for St. Aubert to climb the long and steep road to the place where it now stood, Valancourt was anxious to find a more easy ascent, by the way he had himself passed.

Pt Meanwhile St. Aubert and Emily approached the cottage, and rested themselves on a rustic bench, fastened between two pines, which overshadowed it, till Valancourt, whose steps they had observed, should return.

Pt The eldest of the children desisted from his play, and stood still to observe the strangers, while the younger continued his little gambols, and teased his brother to join in them. St. Aubert looked with pleasure upon this picture of infantine simplicity, till it brought to his remembrance his own boys, whom he had lost about the age of these, and their lamented mother; and he sunk into a thoughtfulness, which Emily observing, she immediately began to sing one of those simple and lively airs he was so fond of, and which she knew how to give with the most captivating sweetness. St. Aubert smiled on her through his tears, took her hand and pressed it affectionately, and then tried to dissipate the melancholy reflections that lingered in his mind.

Pt While she sung, Valancourt approached, who was unwilling to interrupt her, and paused at a little distance to listen. When she had concluded, he joined the party, and told them, that he had found Michael, as well as a way, by which he thought they could ascend the cliff to the carriage. He pointed to the woody steeps above, which St. Aubert surveyed with an anxious eye. He was already wearied by his walk, and this ascent was formidable to him. He thought, however, it would be less toilsome than the long and broken road, and he determined to attempt it; but Emily, ever watchful of his ease, proposing that he should rest, and dine before they proceeded further, Valancourt went to the carriage for the refreshments deposited there.

Pt On his return, he proposed removing a little higher up the mountain, to where the woods opened upon a grand and extensive prospect; and thither they were preparing to go, when they saw a young woman join the children, and caress and weep over them.

Pt The travellers, interested by her distress, stopped to observe her. She took the youngest of the children in her arms, and, perceiving the strangers, hastily dried her tears, and proceeded to the cottage. St. Aubert, on enquiring the occasion of her sorrow, learned that her husband, who was a shepherd, and lived here in the summer months to watch over the flocks he led to feed upon these mountains, had lost, on the preceding night, his little all. A gang of gipsies, who had for some time infested the neighbourhood, had driven away several of his master's sheep. 'Jacques,'added the shepherd's wife, 'had saved a little money, and had bought a few sheep with it, and now they must go to his master for those that are stolen; and what is worse than all, his master, when he comes to know how it is, will trust him no longer with the care of his flocks, for he is a hard man! and then what is to become of our children!'

Pt The innocent countenance of the woman, and the simplicity of her manner in relating her grievance, inclined St. Aubert to believe her story; and Valancourt, convinced that it was true, asked eagerly what was the value of the stolen sheep; on hearing which he turned away with a look of disappointment. St. Aubert put some money into her hand, Emily too gave something from her little purse, and they walked towards the cliff; but Valancourt lingered behind, and spoke to the shepherd's wife, who was now weeping with gratitude and surprise. He enquired how much money was yet wanting to replace the stolen sheep, and found, that it was a sum very little short of all he had about him. He was perplexed and distressed. 'This sum then,'said he to himself, 'would make this poor family completely happy - it is in my power to give it - to make them completely happy! But what is to become of me? - how shall I contrive to reach home with the little money that will remain?'For a moment he stood, unwilling to forego the luxury of raising a family from ruin to happiness, yet considering the difficulties of pursuing his journey with so small a sum as would be left.

Pt While he was in this state of perplexity, the shepherd himself appeared: his children ran to meet him; he took one of them in his arms, and, with the other clinging to his coat, came forward with a loitering step. His forlorn and melancholy look determined Valancourt at once; he threw down all the money he had, except a very few louis, and bounded away after St. Aubert and Emily, who were proceeding slowly up the steep. Valancourt had seldom felt his heart so light as at this moment; his gay spirits danced with pleasure; every object around him appeared more interesting, or beautiful, than before. St. Aubert observed the uncommon vivacity of his countenance: 'What has pleased you so much?'said he. 'O what a lovely day,'replied Valancourt, 'how brightly the sun shines, how pure is this air, what enchanting scenery!''It is indeed enchanting,'said St. Aubert, whom early experience had taught to understand the nature of Valancourt's present feelings. 'What pity that the wealthy, who can command such sunshine, should ever pass their days in gloom - in the cold shade of selfishness! For you, my young friend, may the sun always shine as brightly as at this moment; may your own conduct always give you the sunshine of benevolence and reason united!'

Pt Valancourt, highly flattered by this compliment, could make no reply but by a smile of gratitude.

Pt They continued to wind under the woods, between the grassy knolls of the mountain, and, as they reached the shady summit, which he had pointed out, the whole party burst into an exclamation. Behind the spot where they stood, the rock rose perpendicularly in a massy wall to a considerable height, and then branched out into overhanging crags. Their grey tints were well contrasted by the bright hues of the plants and wild flowers, that grew in their fractured sides, and were deepened by the gloom of the pines and cedars, that waved above. The steeps below, over which the eye passed abruptly to the valley, were fringed with thickets of alpine shrubs; and, lower still, appeared the tufted tops of the chesnut woods, that clothed their base, among which peeped forth the shepherd's cottage, just left by the travellers, with its blueish smoke curling high in the air. On every side appeared the majestic summits of the Pyrenees, some exhibiting tremendous crags of marble, whose appearance was changing every instant, as the varying lights fell upon their surface; others, still higher, displaying only snowy points, while their lower steeps were covered almost invariably with forests of pine, larch, and oak, that stretched down to the vale. This was one of the narrow vallies, that open from the Pyrenees into the country of Rousillon, and whose green pastures, and cultivated beauty, form a decided and wonderful contrast to the romantic grandeur that environs it. Through a vista of the mountains appeared the lowlands of Rousillon, tinted with the blue haze of distance, as they united with the waters of the Mediterranean; where, on a promontory, which marked the boundary of the shore, stood a lonely beacon, over which were seen circling flights of sea-fowl. Beyond, appeared, now and then, a stealing sail, white with the sun-beam, and whose progress was perceivable by its approach to the light-house. Sometimes, too, was seen a sail so distant, that it served only to mark the line of separation between the sky and the waves.

Pt On the other side of the valley, immediately opposite to the spot where the travellers rested, a rocky pass opened toward Gascony. Here no sign of cultivation appeared. The rocks of granite, that screened the glen, rose abruptly from their base, and stretched their barren points to the clouds, unvaried with woods, and uncheered even by a hunter's cabin. Sometimes, indeed, a gigantic larch threw its long shade over the precipice, and here and there a cliff reared on its brow a monumental cross, to tell the traveller the fate of him who had ventured thither before. This spot seemed the very haunt of banditti; and Emily, as she looked down upon it, almost expected to see them stealing out from some hollow cave to look for their prey. Soon after an object not less terrific struck her, - a gibbet standing on a point of rock near the entrance of the pass, and immediately over one of the crosses she had before observed. These were hieroglyphics that told a plain and dreadful story. She forbore to point it out to St. Aubert, but it threw a gloom over her spirits, and made her anxious to hasten forward, that they might with certainty reach Rousillon before night-fall. It was necessary, however, that St. Aubert should take some refreshment, and, seating themselves on the short dry turf, they opened the basket of provisions, while

Pt by breezy murmurs cool'd, Broad o'er THEIR heads the verdant cedars wave, And high palmetos lift their graceful shade. - - -THEY draw Ethereal soul, there drink reviving gales Profusely breathing from the piney groves, And vales of fragrance; there at a distance hear The roaring floods, and cataracts.* *Thomson

Pt St. Aubert was revived by rest, and by the serene air of this summit; and Valancourt was so charmed with all around, and with the conversation of his companions, that he seemed to have forgotten he had any further to go. Having concluded their simple repast, they gave a long farewell look to the scene, and again began to ascend. St. Aubert rejoiced when he reached the carriage, which Emily entered with him; but Valancourt, willing to take a more extensive view of the enchanting country, into which they were about to descend, than he could do from a carriage, loosened his dogs, and once more bounded with them along the banks of the road. He often quitted it for points that promised a wider prospect, and the slow pace, at which the mules travelled, allowed him to overtake them with ease. Whenever a scene of uncommon magnificence appeared, he hastened to inform St. Aubert, who, though he was too much tired to walk himself, sometimes made the chaise wait, while Emily went to the neighbouring cliff.

Pt It was evening when they descended the lower alps, that bind Rousillon, and form a majestic barrier round that charming country, leaving it open only on the east to the Mediterranean. The gay tints of cultivation once more beautified the landscape; for the lowlands were coloured with the richest hues, which a luxuriant climate, and an industrious people can awaken into life. Groves of orange and lemon perfumed the air, their ripe fruit glowing among the foliage; while, sloping to the plains, extensive vineyards spread their treasures. Beyond these, woods and pastures, and mingled towns and hamlets stretched towards the sea, on whose bright surface gleamed many a distant sail; while, over the whole scene, was diffused the purple glow of evening. This landscape with the surrounding alps did, indeed, present a perfect picture of the lovely and the sublime, of 'beauty sleeping in the lap of horror.'

Pt The travellers, having reached the plains, proceeded, between hedges of flowering myrtle and pomegranate, to the town of Arles, where they proposed to rest for the night. They met with simple, but neat accommodation, and would have passed a happy evening, after the toils and the delights of this day, had not the approaching separation thrown a gloom over their spirit. It was St. Aubert's plan to proceed, on the morrow, to the borders of the Mediterranean, and travel along its shores into Languedoc; and Valancourt, since he was now nearly recovered, and had no longer a pretence for continuing with his new friends, resolved to leave them here. St. Aubert, who was much pleased with him, invited him to go further, but did not repeat the invitation, and Valancourt had resolution enough to forego the temptation of accepting it, that he might prove himself not unworthy of the favour. On the following morning, therefore, they were to part, St. Aubert to pursue his way to Languedoc, and Valancourt to explore new scenes among the mountains, on his return home. During this evening he was often silent and thoughtful; St. Aubert's manner towards him was affectionate, though grave, and Emily was serious, though she made frequent efforts to appear cheerful. After one of the most melancholy evenings they had yet passed together, they separated for the night.

Chapter VI

Pt I care not, Fortune! what you me deny; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shews her brightening face; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve: Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave: Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave. THOMSON

Pt In the morning, Valancourt breakfasted with St. Aubert and Emily, neither of whom seemed much refreshed by sleep. The languor of illness still hung over St. Aubert, and to Emily's fears his disorder appeared to be increasing fast upon him. She watched his looks with anxious affection, and their expression was always faithfully reflected in her own.

Pt At the commencement of their acquaintance, Valancourt had made known his name and family. St. Aubert was not a stranger to either, for the family estates, which were now in the possession of an elder brother of Valancourt, were little more than twenty miles distant from La Vallee, and he had sometimes met the elder Valancourt on visits in the neighbourhood. This knowledge had made him more willingly receive his present companion; for, though his countenance and manners would have won him the acquaintance of St. Aubert, who was very apt to trust to the intelligence of his own eyes, with respect to countenances, he would not have accepted these, as sufficient introductions to that of his daughter.

Pt The breakfast was almost as silent as the supper of the preceding night; but their musing was at length interrupted by the sound of the carriage wheels, which were to bear away St. Aubert and Emily. Valancourt started from his chair, and went to the window; it was indeed the carriage, and he returned to his seat without speaking. The moment was now come when they must part. St. Aubert told Valancourt, that he hoped he would never pass La Vallee without favouring him with a visit; and Valancourt, eagerly thanking him, assured him that he never would; as he said which he looked timidly at Emily, who tried to smile away the seriousness of her spirits. They passed a few minutes in interesting conversation, and St. Aubert then led the way to the carriage, Emily and Valancourt following in silence. The latter lingered at the door several minutes after they were seated, and none of the party seemed to have courage enough to say - Farewell. At length, St. Aubert pronounced the melancholy word, which Emily passed to Valancourt, who returned it, with a dejected smile, and the carriage drove on.

Pt The travellers remained, for some time, in a state of tranquil pensiveness, which is not unpleasing. St. Aubert interrupted it by observing, 'This is a very promising young man; it is many years since I have been so much pleased with any person, on so short an acquaintance. He brings back to my memory the days of my youth, when every scene was new and delightful!'St. Aubert sighed, and sunk again into a reverie; and, as Emily looked back upon the road they had passed, Valancourt was seen, at the door of the little inn, following them with his eyes. Her perceived her, and waved his hand; and she returned the adieu, till the winding road shut her from his sight.

Pt 'I remember when I was about his age,'resumed St. Aubert, 'and I thought, and felt exactly as he does. The world was opening upon me then, now - it is closing.'

Pt 'My dear sir, do not think so gloomily,'said Emily in a trembling voice, 'I hope you have many, many years to live - for your own sake - for MY sake.'

Pt 'Ah, my Emily!'replied St. Aubert, 'for thy sake! Well - I hope it is so.'He wiped away a tear, that was stealing down his cheek, threw a smile upon his countenance, and said in a cheering voice, 'there is something in the ardour and ingenuousness of youth, which is particularly pleasing to the contemplation of an old man, if his feelings have not been entirely corroded by the world. It is cheering and reviving, like the view of spring to a sick person; his mind catches somewhat of the spirit of the season, and his eyes are lighted up with a transient sunshine. Valancourt is this spring to me.'

Pt Emily, who pressed her father's hand affectionately, had never before listened with so much pleasure to the praises he bestowed; no, not even when he had bestowed them on herself.

Pt They travelled on, among vineyards, woods, and pastures, delighted with the romantic beauty of the landscape, which was bounded, on one side, by the grandeur of the Pyrenees, and, on the other, by the ocean; and, soon after noon, they reached the town of Colioure, situated on the Mediterranean. Here they dined, and rested till towards the cool of day, when they pursued their way along the shores - those enchanting shores! - which extend to Languedoc. Emily gazed with enthusiasm on the vastness of the sea, its surface varying, as the lights and shadows fell, and on its woody banks, mellowed with autumnal tints.

Pt St. Aubert was impatient to reach Perpignan, where he expected letters from M. Quesnel; and it was the expectation of these letters, that had induced him to leave Colioure, for his feeble frame had required immediate rest. After travelling a few miles, he fell asleep; and Emily, who had put two or three books into the carriage, on leaving La Vallee, had now the leisure for looking into them. She sought for one, in which Valancourt had been reading the day before, and hoped for the pleasure of re-tracing a page, over which the eyes of a beloved friend had lately passed, of dwelling on the passages, which he had admired, and of permitting them to speak to her in the language of his own mind, and to bring himself to her presence. On searching for the book, she could find it no where, but in its stead perceived a volume of Petrarch's poems, that had belonged to Valancourt, whose name was written in it, and from which he had frequently read passages to her, with all the pathetic expression, that characterized the feelings of the author. She hesitated in believing, what would have been sufficiently apparent to almost any other person, that he had purposely left this book, instead of the one she had lost, and that love had prompted the exchange; but, having opened it with impatient pleasure, and observed the lines of his pencil drawn along the various passages he had read aloud, and under others more descriptive of delicate tenderness than he had dared to trust his voice with, the conviction came, at length, to her mind. For some moments she was conscious only of being beloved; then, a recollection of all the variations of tone and countenance, with which he had recited these sonnets, and of the soul, which spoke in their expression, pressed to her memory, and she wept over the memorial of his affection.

Pt They arrived at Perpignan soon after sunset, where St. Aubert found, as he had expected, letters from M. Quesnel, the contents of which so evidently and grievously affected him, that Emily was alarmed, and pressed him, as far as her delicacy would permit, to disclose the occasion of his concern; but he answered her only by tears, and immediately began to talk on other topics. Emily, though she forbore to press the one most interesting to her, was greatly affected by her father's manner, and passed a night of sleepless solicitude.

Pt In the morning they pursued their journey along the coast towards Leucate, another town on the Mediterranean, situated on the borders of Languedoc and Rousillon. On the way, Emily renewed the subject of the preceding night, and appeared so deeply affected by St. Aubert's silence and dejection, that he relaxed from his reserve. 'I was unwilling, my dear Emily,'said he, 'to throw a cloud over the pleasure you receive from these scenes, and meant, therefore, to conceal, for the present, some circumstances, with which, however, you must at length have been made acquainted. But your anxiety has defeated my purpose; you suffer as much from this, perhaps, as you will do from a knowledge of the facts I have to relate. M. Quesnel's visit proved an unhappy one to me; he came to tell me part of the news he has now confirmed. You may have heard me mention a M. Motteville, of Paris, but you did not know that the chief of my personal property was invested in his hands. I had great confidence in him, and I am yet willing to believe, that he is not wholly unworthy of my esteem. A variety of circumstances have concurred to ruin him, and - I am ruined with him.'

Pt St. Aubert paused to conceal his emotion.

Pt 'The letters I have just received from M. Quesnel,'resumed he, struggling to speak with firmness, 'enclosed others from Motteville, which confirmed all I dreaded.'

Pt 'Must we then quit La Vallee?'said Emily, after a long pause of silence. 'That is yet uncertain,'replied St. Aubert, 'it will depend upon the compromise Motteville is able to make with his creditors. My income, you know, was never large, and now it will be reduced to little indeed! It is for you, Emily, for you, my child, that I am most afflicted.'His last words faltered; Emily smiled tenderly upon him through her tears, and then, endeavouring to overcome her emotion, 'My dear father,'said she, 'do not grieve for me, or for yourself; we may yet be happy; - if La Vallee remains for us, we must be happy. We will retain only one servant, and you shall scarcely perceive the change in your income. Be comforted, my dear sir; we shall not feel the want of those luxuries, which others value so highly, since we never had a taste for them; and poverty cannot deprive us of many consolations. It cannot rob us of the affection we have for each other, or degrade us in our own opinion, or in that of any person, whose opinion we ought to value.'

Pt St. Aubert concealed his face with his handkerchief, and was unable to speak; but Emily continued to urge to her father the truths, which himself had impressed upon her mind.

Pt 'Besides, my dear sir, poverty cannot deprive us of intellectual delights. It cannot deprive you of the comfort of affording me examples of fortitude and benevolence; nor me of the delight of consoling a beloved parent. It cannot deaden our taste for the grand, and the beautiful, or deny us the means of indulging it; for the scenes of nature - those sublime spectacles, so infinitely superior to all artificial luxuries! are open for the enjoyment of the poor, as well as of the rich. Of what, then, have we to complain, so long as we are not in want of necessaries? Pleasures, such as wealth cannot buy, will still be ours. We retain, then, the sublime luxuries of nature, and lose only the frivolous ones of art.'

Pt St. Aubert could not reply: he caught Emily to his bosom, their tears flowed together, but - they were not tears of sorrow. After this language of the heart, all other would have been feeble, and they remained silent for some time. Then, St. Aubert conversed as before; for, if his mind had not recovered its natural tranquillity, it at least assumed the appearance of it.

Pt They reached the romantic town of Leucate early in the day, but St. Aubert was weary, and they determined to pass the night there. In the evening, he exerted himself so far as to walk with his daughter to view the environs that overlook the lake of Leucate, the Mediterranean, part of Rousillon, with the Pyrenees, and a wide extent of the luxuriant province of Languedoc, now blushing with the ripened vintage, which the peasants were beginning to gather. St. Aubert and Emily saw the busy groups, caught the joyous song, that was wafted on the breeze, and anticipated, with apparent pleasure, their next day's journey over this gay region. He designed, however, still to wind along the sea-shore. To return home immediately was partly his wish, but from this he was withheld by a desire to lengthen the pleasure, which the journey gave his daughter, and to try the effect of the sea air on his own disorder.

Pt On the following day, therefore, they recommenced their journey through Languedoc, winding the shores of the Mediterranean; the Pyrenees still forming the magnificent back-ground of their prospects, while on their right was the ocean, and, on their left, wide extended plains melting into the blue horizon. St. Aubert was pleased, and conversed much with Emily, yet his cheerfulness was sometimes artificial, and sometimes a shade of melancholy would steal upon his countenance, and betray him. This was soon chased away by Emily's smile; who smiled, however, with an aching heart, for she saw that his misfortunes preyed upon his mind, and upon his enfeebled frame.

Pt It was evening when they reached a small village of Upper Languedoc, where they meant to pass the night, but the place could not afford them beds; for here, too, it was the time of the vintage, and they were obliged to proceed to the next post. The languor of illness and of fatigue, which returned upon St. Aubert, required immediate repose, and the evening was now far advanced; but from necessity there was no appeal, and he ordered Michael to proceed.

Pt The rich plains of Languedoc, which exhibited all the glories of the vintage, with the gaieties of a French festival, no longer awakened St. Aubert to pleasure, whose condition formed a mournful contrast to the hilarity and youthful beauty which surrounded him. As his languid eyes moved over the scene, he considered, that they would soon, perhaps, be closed for ever on this world. 'Those distant and sublime mountains,'said he secretly, as he gazed on a chain of the Pyrenees that stretched towards the west, 'these luxuriant plains, this blue vault, the cheerful light of day, will be shut from my eyes! The song of the peasant, the cheering voice of man - will no longer sound for me!'

Pt The intelligent eyes of Emily seemed to read what passed in the mind of her father, and she fixed them on his face, with an expression of such tender pity, as recalled his thoughts from every desultory object of regret, and he remembered only, that he must leave his daughter without protection. This reflection changed regret to agony; he sighed deeply, and remained silent, while she seemed to understand that sigh, for she pressed his hand affectionately, and then turned to the window to conceal her tears. The sun now threw a last yellow gleam on the waves of the Mediterranean, and the gloom of twilight spread fast over the scene, till only a melancholy ray appeared on the western horizon, marking the point where the sun had set amid the vapours of an autumnal evening. A cool breeze now came from the shore, and Emily let down the glass; but the air, which was refreshing to health, was as chilling to sickness, and St. Aubert desired, that the window might be drawn up. Increasing illness made him now more anxious than ever to finish the day's journey, and he stopped the muleteer to enquire how far they had yet to go to the next post. He replied, 'Nine miles.''I feel I am unable to proceed much further,'said St. Aubert; 'enquire, as you go, if there is any house on the road that would accommodate us for the night.'He sunk back in the carriage, and Michael, cracking his whip in the air, set off, and continued on the full gallop, till St. Aubert, almost fainting, called to him to stop. Emily looked anxiously from the window, and saw a peasant walking at some little distance on the road, for whom they waited, till he came up, when he was asked, if there was any house in the neighbourhood that accommodated travellers. He replied, that he knew of none. 'There is a chateau, indeed, among those woods on the right,'added he, 'but I believe it receives nobody, and I cannot show you the way, for I am almost a stranger here.'St. Aubert was going to ask him some further question concerning the chateau, but the man abruptly passed on. After some consideration, he ordered Michael to proceed slowly to the woods. Every moment now deepened the twilight, and increased the difficulty of finding the road. Another peasant soon after passed. 'Which is the way to the chateau in the woods?'cried Michael.

Pt 'The chateau in the woods!'exclaimed the peasant - 'Do you mean that with the turret, yonder?'

Pt 'I don't know as for the turret, as you call it,'said Michael, 'I mean that white piece of a building, that we see at a distance there, among the trees.'

Pt 'Yes, that is the turret; why, who are you, that you are going thither?'said the man with surprise.

Pt St. Aubert, on hearing this odd question, and observing the peculiar tone in which it was delivered, looked out from the carriage. 'We are travellers,'said he, 'who are in search of a house of accommodation for the night; is there any hereabout?'

Pt 'None, Monsieur, unless you have a mind to try your luck yonder,'replied the peasant, pointing to the woods, 'but I would not advise you to go there.'

Pt 'To whom does the chateau belong?'

Pt 'I scarcely know myself, Monsieur.'

Pt 'It is uninhabited, then?''No, not uninhabited; the steward and housekeeper are there, I believe.'

Pt On hearing this, St. Aubert determined to proceed to the chateau, and risque the refusal of being accommodated for the night; he therefore desired the countryman would shew Michael the way, and bade him expect reward for his trouble. The man was for a moment silent, and then said, that he was going on other business, but that the road could not be missed, if they went up an avenue to the right, to which he pointed. St. Aubert was going to speak, but the peasant wished him good night, and walked on.

Pt The carriage now moved towards the avenue, which was guarded by a gate, and Michael having dismounted to open it, they entered between rows of ancient oak and chesnut, whose intermingled branches formed a lofty arch above. There was something so gloomy and desolate in the appearance of this avenue, and its lonely silence, that Emily almost shuddered as she passed along; and, recollecting the manner in which the peasant had mentioned the chateau, she gave a mysterious meaning to his words, such as she had not suspected when he uttered them. These apprehensions, however, she tried to check, considering that they were probably the effect of a melancholy imagination, which her father's situation, and a consideration of her own circumstances, had made sensible to every impression.

Pt They passed slowly on, for they were now almost in darkness, which, together with the unevenness of the ground, and the frequent roots of old trees, that shot up above the soil, made it necessary to proceed with caution. On a sudden Michael stopped the carriage; and, as St. Aubert looked from the window to enquire the cause, he perceived a figure at some distance moving up the avenue. The dusk would not permit him to distinguish what it was, but he bade Michael go on.

Pt 'This seems a wild place,'said Michael; 'there is no house hereabout, don't your honour think we had better turn back?'

Pt 'Go a little farther, and if we see no house then, we will return to the road,'replied St. Aubert.

Pt Michael proceeded with reluctance, and the extreme slowness of his pace made St. Aubert look again from the window to hasten him, when again he saw the same figure. He was somewhat startled: probably the gloominess of the spot made him more liable to alarm than usual; however this might be, he now stopped Michael, and bade him call to the person in the avenue.

Pt 'Please your honour, he may be a robber,'said Michael. 'It does not please me,'replied St. Aubert, who could not forbear smiling at the simplicity of his phrase, 'and we will, therefore, return to the road, for I see no probability of meeting here with what we seek.'

Pt Michael turned about immediately, and was retracing his way with alacrity, when a voice was heard from among the trees on the left. It was not the voice of command, or distress, but a deep hollow tone, which seemed to be scarcely human. The man whipped his mules till they went as fast as possible, regardless of the darkness, the broken ground, and the necks of the whole party, nor once stopped till he reached the gate, which opened from the avenue into the high-road, where he went into a more moderate pace.

Pt 'I am very ill,'said St. Aubert, taking his daughter's hand. 'You are worse, then, sir!'said Emily, extremely alarmed by his manner, 'you are worse, and here is no assistance. Good God! what is to be done!'He leaned his head on her shoulder, while she endeavoured to support him with her arm, and Michael was again ordered to stop. When the rattling of the wheels had ceased, music was heard on their air; it was to Emily the voice of Hope. 'Oh! we are near some human habitation!'said she, 'help may soon be had.'

Pt She listened anxiously; the sounds were distant, and seemed to come from a remote part of the woods that bordered the road; and, as she looked towards the spot whence they issued, she perceived in the faint moon-light something like a chateau. It was difficult, however, to reach this; St. Aubert was now too ill to bear the motion of the carriage; Michael could not quit his mules; and Emily, who still supported her father, feared to leave him, and also feared to venture alone to such a distance, she knew not whither, or to whom. Something, however, it was necessary to determine upon immediately; St. Aubert, therefore, told Michael to proceed slowly; but they had not gone far, when he fainted, and the carriage was again stopped. He lay quite senseless. - 'My dear, dear father!'cried Emily in great agony, who began to fear that he was dying, 'speak, if it is only one word to let me hear the sound of your voice!'But no voice spoke in reply. In the agony of terror she bade Michael bring water from the rivulet, that flowed along the road; and, having received some in the man's hat, with trembling hands she sprinkled it over her father's face, which, as the moon's rays now fell upon it, seemed to bear the impression of death. Every emotion of selfish fear now gave way to a stronger influence, and, committing St. Aubert to the care of Michael, who refused to go far from his mules, she stepped from the carriage in search of the chateau she had seen at a distance. It was a still moon-light night, and the music, which yet sounded on the air, directed her steps from the high road, up a shadowy lane, that led to the woods. Her mind was for some time so entirely occupied by anxiety and terror for her father, that she felt none for herself, till the deepening gloom of the overhanging foliage, which now wholly excluded the moon-light, and the wildness of the place, recalled her to a sense of her adventurous situation. The music had ceased, and she had no guide but chance. For a moment she paused in terrified perplexity, till a sense of her father's condition again overcoming every consideration for herself, she proceeded. The lane terminated in the woods, but she looked round in vain for a house, or a human being, and as vainly listened for a sound to guide her. She hurried on, however, not knowing whither, avoiding the recesses of the woods, and endeavouring to keep along their margin, till a rude kind of avenue, which opened upon a moon-light spot, arrested her attention. The wildness of this avenue brought to her recollection the one leading to the turreted chateau, and she was inclined to believe, that this was a part of the same domain, and probably led to the same point. While she hesitated, whether to follow it or not, a sound of many voices in loud merriment burst upon her ear. It seemed not the laugh of cheerfulness, but of riot, and she stood appalled. While she paused, she heard a distant voice, calling from the way she had come, and not doubting but it was that of Michael, her first impulse was to hasten back; but a second thought changed her purpose; she believed that nothing less than the last extremity could have prevailed with Michael to quit his mules, and fearing that her father was now dying, she rushed forward, with a feeble hope of obtaining assistance from the people in the woods. Her heart beat with fearful expectation, as she drew near the spot whence the voices issued, and she often startled when her steps disturbed the fallen leaves. The sounds led her towards the moon-light glade she had before noticed; at a little distance from which she stopped, and saw, between the boles of the trees, a small circular level of green turf, surrounded by the woods, on which appeared a group of figures. On drawing nearer, she distinguished these, by their dress, to be peasants, and perceived several cottages scattered round the edge of the woods, which waved loftily over this spot. While she gazed, and endeavoured to overcome the apprehensions that withheld her steps, several peasant girls came out of a cottage; music instantly struck up, and the dance began. It was the joyous music of the vintage! the same she had before heard upon the air. Her heart, occupied with terror for her father, could not feel the contrast, which this gay scene offered to her own distress; she stepped hastily forward towards a group of elder peasants, who were seated at the door of a cottage, and, having explained her situation, entreated their assistance. Several of them rose with alacrity, and, offering any service in their power, followed Emily, who seemed to move on the wind, as fast as they could towards the road.

Pt When she reached the carriage she found St. Aubert restored to animation. On the recovery of his senses, having heard from Michael whither his daughter was gone, anxiety for her overcame every regard for himself, and he had sent him in search of her. He was, however, still languid, and, perceiving himself unable to travel much farther, he renewed his enquiries for an inn, and concerning the chateau in the woods. 'The chateau cannot accommodate you, sir,'said a venerable peasant who had followed Emily from the woods, 'it is scarcely inhabited; but, if you will do me the honour to visit my cottage, you shall be welcome to the best bed it affords.'

Pt St. Aubert was himself a Frenchman; he therefore was not surprised at French courtesy; but, ill as he was, he felt the value of the offer enhanced by the manner which accompanied it. He had too much delicacy to apologize, or to appear to hesitate about availing himself of the peasant's hospitality, but immediately accepted it with the same frankness with which it was offered.

Pt The carriage again moved slowly on; Michael following the peasants up the lane, which Emily had just quitted, till they came to the moon-light glade. St. Aubert's spirits were so far restored by the courtesy of his host, and the near prospect of repose, that he looked with a sweet complacency upon the moon-light scene, surrounded by the shadowy woods, through which, here and there, an opening admitted the streaming splendour, discovering a cottage, or a sparkling rivulet. He listened, with no painful emotion, to the merry notes of the guitar and tamborine; and, though tears came to his eyes, when he saw the debonnaire dance of the peasants, they were not merely tears of mournful regret. With Emily it was otherwise; immediate terror for her father had now subsided into a gentle melancholy, which every note of joy, by awakening comparison, served to heighten.

Pt The dance ceased on the approach of the carriage, which was a phenomenon in these sequestered woods, and the peasantry flocked round it with eager curiosity. On learning that it brought a sick stranger, several girls ran across the turf, and returned with wine and baskets of grapes, which they presented to the travellers, each with kind contention pressing for a preference. At length, the carriage stopped at a neat cottage, and his venerable conductor, having assisted St. Aubert to alight, led him and Emily to a small inner room, illuminated only by moon-beams, which the open casement admitted. St. Aubert, rejoicing in rest, seated himself in an arm-chair, and his senses were refreshed by the cool and balmy air, that lightly waved the embowering honeysuckles, and wafted their sweet breath into the apartment. His host, who was called La Voisin, quitted the room, but soon returned with fruits, cream, and all the pastoral luxury his cottage afforded; having set down which, with a smile of unfeigned welcome, he retired behind the chair of his guest. St. Aubert insisted on his taking a seat at the table, and, when the fruit had allayed the fever of his palate, and he found himself somewhat revived, he began to converse with his host, who communicated several particulars concerning himself and his family, which were interesting, because they were spoken from the heart, and delineated a picture of the sweet courtesies of family kindness. Emily sat by her father, holding his hand, and, while she listened to the old man, her heart swelled with the affectionate sympathy he described, and her tears fell to the mournful consideration, that death would probably soon deprive her of the dearest blessing she then possessed. The soft moon-light of an autumnal evening, and the distant music, which now sounded a plaintive strain, aided the melancholy of her mind. The old man continued to talk of his family, and St. Aubert remained silent. 'I have only one daughter living,'said La Voisin, 'but she is happily married, and is every thing to me. When I lost my wife,'he added with a sigh, 'I came to live with Agnes, and her family; she has several children, who are all dancing on the green yonder, as merry as grasshoppers - and long may they be so! I hope to die among them, monsieur. I am old now, and cannot expect to live long, but there is some comfort in dying surrounded by one's children.'

Pt 'My good friend,'said St. Aubert, while his voice trembled, 'I hope you will long live surrounded by them.'

Pt 'Ah, sir! at my age I must not expect that!'replied the old man, and he paused: 'I can scarcely wish it,'he resumed, 'for I trust that whenever I die I shall go to heaven, where my poor wife is gone before me. I can sometimes almost fancy I see her of a still moon-light night, walking among these shades she loved so well. Do you believe, monsieur, that we shall be permitted to revisit the earth, after we have quitted the body?'

Pt Emily could no longer stifle the anguish of her heart; her tears fell fast upon her father's hand, which she yet held. He made an effort to speak, and at length said in a low voice, 'I hope we shall be permitted to look down on those we have left on the earth, but I can only hope it. Futurity is much veiled from our eyes, and faith and hope are our only guides concerning it. We are not enjoined to believe, that disembodied spirits watch over the friends they have loved, but we may innocently hope it. It is a hope which I will never resign,'continued he, while he wiped the tears from his daughter's eyes, 'it will sweeten the bitter moments of death!'Tears fell slowly on his cheeks; La Voisin wept too, and there was a pause of silence. Then, La Voisin, renewing the subject, said, 'But you believe, sir, that we shall meet in another world the relations we have loved in this; I must believe this.''Then do believe it,'replied St. Aubert, 'severe, indeed, would be the pangs of separation, if we believed it to be eternal. Look up, my dear Emily, we shall meet again!'He lifted his eyes towards heaven, and a gleam of moon-light, which fell upon his countenance, discovered peace and resignation, stealing on the lines of sorrow.

Pt La Voisin felt that he had pursued the subject too far, and he dropped it, saying, 'We are in darkness, I forgot to bring a light.'

Pt 'No,'said St. Aubert, 'this is a light I love. Sit down, my good friend. Emily, my love, I find myself better than I have been all day; this air refreshes me. I can enjoy this tranquil hour, and that music, which floats so sweetly at a distance. Let me see you smile. Who touches that guitar so tastefully? are there two instruments, or is it an echo I hear?'

Pt 'It is an echo, monsieur, I fancy. That guitar is often heard at night, when all is still, but nobody knows who touches it, and it is sometimes accompanied by a voice so sweet, and so sad, one would almost think the woods were haunted.''They certainly are haunted,'said St. Aubert with a smile, 'but I believe it is by mortals.''I have sometimes heard it at midnight, when I could not sleep,'rejoined La Voisin, not seeming to notice this remark, 'almost under my window, and I never heard any music like it. It has often made me think of my poor wife till I cried. I have sometimes got up to the window to look if I could see anybody, but as soon as I opened the casement all was hushed, and nobody to be seen; and I have listened, and listened till I have been so timorous, that even the trembling of the leaves in the breeze has made me start. They say it often comes to warn people of their death, but I have heard it these many years, and outlived the warning.'

Pt Emily, though she smiled at the mention of this ridiculous superstition, could not, in the present tone of her spirits, wholly resist its contagion.

Pt 'Well, but, my good friend,'said St. Aubert, 'has nobody had courage to follow the sounds? If they had, they would probably have discovered who is the musician.''Yes, sir, they have followed them some way into the woods, but the music has still retreated, and seemed as distant as ever, and the people have at last been afraid of being led into harm, and would go no further. It is very seldom that I have heard these sounds so early in the evening. They usually come about midnight, when that bright planet, which is rising above the turret yonder, sets below the woods on the left.'

Pt 'What turret?'asked St. Aubert with quickness, 'I see none.'

Pt 'Your pardon, monsieur, you do see one indeed, for the moon shines full upon it; - up the avenue yonder, a long way off; the chateau it belongs to is hid among the trees.'

Pt 'Yes, my dear sir,'said Emily, pointing, 'don't you see something glitter above the dark woods? It is a fane, I fancy, which the rays fall upon.'

Pt 'O yes, I see what you mean; and who does the chateau belong to?'

Pt 'The Marquis de Villeroi was its owner,'replied La Voisin, emphatically.

Pt 'Ah!'said St. Aubert, with a deep sigh, 'are we then so near Le-Blanc!'He appeared much agitated.

Pt 'It used to be the Marquis's favourite residence,'resumed La Voisin, 'but he took a dislike to the place, and has not been there for many years. We have heard lately that he is dead, and that it is fallen into other hands.'St. Aubert, who had sat in deep musing, was roused by the last words. 'Dead!'he exclaimed, 'Good God! when did he die?'

Pt 'He is reported to have died about five weeks since,'replied La Voisin. 'Did you know the Marquis, sir?'

Pt 'This is very extraordinary!'said St. Aubert without attending to the question. 'Why is it so, my dear sir?'said Emily, in a voice of timid curiosity. He made no reply, but sunk again into a reverie; and in a few moments, when he seemed to have recovered himself, asked who had succeeded to the estates. 'I have forgot his title, monsieur,'said La Voisin; 'but my lord resides at Paris chiefly; I hear no talk of his coming hither.'

Pt 'The chateau is shut up then, still?'

Pt 'Why, little better, sir; the old housekeeper, and her husband the steward, have the care of it, but they live generally in a cottage hard by.'

Pt 'The chateau is spacious, I suppose,'said Emily, 'and must be desolate for the residence of only two persons.'

Pt 'Desolate enough, mademoiselle,'replied La Voisin, 'I would not pass one night in the chateau, for the value of the whole domain.'

Pt 'What is that?'said St. Aubert, roused again from thoughtfulness. As his host repeated his last sentence, a groan escaped from St. Aubert, and then, as if anxious to prevent it from being noticed, he hastily asked La Voisin how long he had lived in this neighbourhood. 'Almost from my childhood, sir,'replied his host.

Pt 'You remember the late marchioness, then?'said St. Aubert in an altered voice.

Pt 'Ah, monsieur! - that I do well. There are many besides me who remember her.'

Pt 'Yes - 'said St. Aubert, 'and I am one of those.'

Pt 'Alas, sir! you remember, then, a most beautiful and excellent lady. She deserved a better fate.'

Pt Tears stood in St. Aubert's eyes; 'Enough,'said he, in a voice almost stifled by the violence of his emotions, - 'it is enough, my friend.'

Pt Emily, though extremely surprised by her father's manner, forbore to express her feelings by any question. La Voisin began to apologize, but St. Aubert interrupted him; 'Apology is quite unnecessary,'said he, 'let us change the topic. You was speaking of the music we just now heard.'

Pt 'I was, monsieur - but hark! - it comes again; listen to that voice!'They were all silent;

Pt At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound Rose, like a stream of rich distilled perfumes, And stole upon the air, that even Silence Was took ere she was 'ware, and wished she might Deny her nature, and be never more Still, to be so displaced.* *Milton.

Pt In a few moments the voice died into air, and the instrument, which had been heard before, sounded in low symphony. St. Aubert now observed, that it produced a tone much more full and melodious than that of a guitar, and still more melancholy and soft than the lute. They continued to listen, but the sounds returned no more. 'This is strange!'said St. Aubert, at length interrupting the silence. 'Very strange!'said Emily. 'It is so,'rejoined La Voisin, and they were again silent.

Pt After a long pause, 'It is now about eighteen years since I first heard that music,'said La Voisin; 'I remember it was on a fine summer's night, much like this, but later, that I was walking in the woods, and alone. I remember, too, that my spirits were very low, for one of my boys was ill, and we feared we should lose him. I had been watching at his bed-side all the evening while his mother slept; for she had sat up with him the night before. I had been watching, and went out for a little fresh air, the day had been very sultry. As I walked under the shades and mused, I heard music at a distance, and thought it was Claude playing upon his flute, as he often did of a fine evening, at the cottage door. But, when I came to a place where the trees opened, (I shall never forget it!) and stood looking up at the north-lights, which shot up the heaven to a great height, I heard all of a sudden such sounds! - they came so as I cannot describe. It was like the music of angels, and I looked up again almost expecting to see them in the sky. When I came home, I told what I had heard, but they laughed at me, and said it must be some of the shepherds playing on their pipes, and I could not persuade them to the contrary. A few nights after, however, my wife herself heard the same sounds, and was as much surprised as I was, and Father Denis frightened her sadly by saying, that it was music come to warn her of her child's death, and that music often came to houses where there was a dying person.'

Pt Emily, on hearing this, shrunk with a superstitious dread entirely new to her, and could scarcely conceal her agitation from St. Aubert.

Pt 'But the boy lived, monsieur, in spite of Father Denis.'

Pt 'Father Denis!'said St. Aubert, who had listened to 'narrative old age'with patient attention, 'are we near a convent, then?'

Pt 'Yes, sir; the convent of St. Clair stands at no great distance, on the sea shore yonder.'

Pt 'Ah!'said St. Aubert, as if struck with some sudden remembrance, 'the convent of St. Clair!'Emily observed the clouds of grief, mingled with a faint expression of horror, gathering on his brow; his countenance became fixed, and, touched as it now was by the silver whiteness of the moon-light, he resembled one of those marble statues of a monument, which seem to bend, in hopeless sorrow, over the ashes of the dead, shewn

Pt by the blunted light That the dim moon through painted casements lends.* * The Emigrants.

Pt 'But, my dear sir,'said Emily, anxious to dissipate his thoughts, 'you forget that repose is necessary to you. If our kind host will give me leave, I will prepare your bed, for I know how you like it to be made.'St. Aubert, recollecting himself, and smiling affectionately, desired she would not add to her fatigue by that attention; and La Voisin, whose consideration for his guest had been suspended by the interests which his own narrative had recalled, now started from his seat, and, apologizing for not having called Agnes from the green, hurried out of the room.

Pt In a few moments he returned with his daughter, a young woman of pleasing countenance, and Emily learned from her, what she had not before suspected, that, for their accommodation, it was necessary part of La Voisin's family should leave their beds; she lamented this circumstance, but Agnes, by her reply, fully proved that she inherited, at least, a share of her father's courteous hospitality. It was settled, that some of her children and Michael should sleep in the neighbouring cottage.

Pt 'If I am better, to-morrow, my dear,'said St. Aubert when Emily returned to him, 'I mean to set out at an early hour, that we may rest, during the heat of the day, and will travel towards home. In the present state of my health and spirits I cannot look on a longer journey with pleasure, and I am also very anxious to reach La Vallee.'Emily, though she also desired to return, was grieved at her father's sudden wish to do so, which she thought indicated a greater degree of indisposition than he would acknowledge. St. Aubert now retired to rest, and Emily to her little chamber, but not to immediate repose. Her thoughts returned to the late conversation, concerning the state of departed spirits; a subject, at this time, particularly affecting to her, when she had every reason to believe that her dear father would ere long be numbered with them. She leaned pensively on the little open casement, and in deep thought fixed her eyes on the heaven, whose blue unclouded concave was studded thick with stars, the worlds, perhaps, of spirits, unsphered of mortal mould. As her eyes wandered along the boundless aether, her thoughts rose, as before, towards the sublimity of the Deity, and to the contemplation of futurity. No busy note of this world interrupted the course of her mind; the merry dance had ceased, and every cottager had retired to his home. The still air seemed scarcely to breathe upon the woods, and, now and then, the distant sound of a solitary sheep-bell, or of a closing casement, was all that broke on silence. At length, even this hint of human being was heard no more. Elevated and enwrapt, while her eyes were often wet with tears of sublime devotion and solemn awe, she continued at the casement, till the gloom of mid-night hung over the earth, and the planet, which La Voisin had pointed out, sunk below the woods. She then recollected what he had said concerning this planet, and the mysterious music; and, as she lingered at the window, half hoping and half fearing that it would return, her mind was led to the remembrance of the extreme emotion her father had shewn on mention of the Marquis La Villeroi's death, and of the fate of the Marchioness, and she felt strongly interested concerning the remote cause of this emotion. Her surprise and curiosity were indeed the greater, because she did not recollect ever to have heard him mention the name of Villeroi.

Pt No music, however, stole on the silence of the night, and Emily, perceiving the lateness of the hour, returned to a scene of fatigue, remembered that she was to rise early in the morning, and withdrew from the window to repose.

Chapter VII

Pt Let those deplore their doom, Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn. But lofty souls can look beyond the tomb, Can smile at fate, and wonder how they mourn. Shall Spring to these sad scenes no more return? Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed? - Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, And Spring shall soon her vital influence shed, Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead! BEATTIE

Pt Emily, called, as she had requested, at an early hour, awoke, little refreshed by sleep, for uneasy dreams had pursued her, and marred the kindest blessing of the unhappy. But, when she opened her casement, looked out upon the woods, bright with the morning sun, and inspired the pure air, her mind was soothed. The scene was filled with that cheering freshness, which seems to breathe the very spirit of health, and she heard only sweet and PICTURESQUE sounds, if such an expression may be allowed - the matin-bell of a distant convent, the faint murmur of the sea-waves, the song of birds, and the far-off low of cattle, which she saw coming slowly on between the trunks of trees. Struck with the circumstances of imagery around her, she indulged the pensive tranquillity which they inspired; and while she leaned on her window, waiting till St. Aubert should descend to breakfast, her ideas arranged themselves in the following lines:

Pt How sweet to wind the forest's tangled shade, When early twilight, from the eastern bound, Dawns on the sleeping landscape in the glade, And fades as morning spreads her blush around! When ev'ry infant flower, that wept in night, Lifts its chill head soft glowing with a tear, Expands its tender blossom to the light, And gives its incense to the genial air. How fresh the breeze that wafts the rich perfume, And swells the melody of waking birds; The hum of bees, beneath the verdant gloom, And woodman's song, and low of distant herds! Then, doubtful gleams the mountain's hoary head, Seen through the parting foliage from afar; And, farther still, the ocean's misty bed, With flitting sails, that partial sun-beams share. But, vain the sylvan shade - the breath of May, The voice of music floating on the gale, And forms, that beam through morning's dewy veil, If health no longer bid the heart be gay! O balmy hour! 'tis thine her wealth to give, Here spread her blush, and bid the parent live!

Pt Emily now heard persons moving below in the cottage, and presently the voice of Michael, who was talking to his mules, as he led them forth from a hut adjoining. As she left her room, St. Aubert, who was now risen, met her at the door, apparently as little restored by sleep as herself. She led him down stairs to the little parlour, in which they had supped on the preceding night, where they found a neat breakfast set out, while the host and his daughter waited to bid them good-morrow.

Pt 'I envy you this cottage, my good friends,'said St. Aubert, as he met them, 'it is so pleasant, so quiet, and so neat; and this air, that one breathes - if any thing could restore lost health, it would surely be this air.'

Pt La Voisin bowed gratefully, and replied, with the gallantry of a Frenchman, 'Our cottage may be envied, sir, since you and Mademoiselle have honoured it with your presence.'St. Aubert gave him a friendly smile for his compliment, and sat down to a table, spread with cream, fruit, new cheese, butter, and coffee. Emily, who had observed her father with attention and thought he looked very ill, endeavoured to persuade him to defer travelling till the afternoon; but he seemed very anxious to be at home, and his anxiety he expressed repeatedly, and with an earnestness that was unusual with him. He now said, he found himself as well as he had been of late, and that he could bear travelling better in the cool hour of the morning, than at any other time. But, while he was talking with his venerable host, and thanking him for his kind attentions, Emily observed his countenance change, and, before she could reach him, he fell back in his chair. In a few moments he recovered from the sudden faintness that had come over him, but felt so ill, that he perceived himself unable to set out, and, having remained a little while, struggling against the pressure of indisposition, he begged he might be helped up stairs to bed. This request renewed all the terror which Emily had suffered on the preceding evening; but, though scarcely able to support herself, under the sudden shock it gave her, she tried to conceal her apprehensions from St. Aubert, and gave her trembling arm to assist him to the door of his chamber.

Pt When he was once more in bed, he desired that Emily, who was then weeping in her own room, might be called; and, as she came, he waved his hand for every other person to quit the apartment. When they were alone, he held out his hand to her, and fixed his eyes upon her countenance, with an expression so full of tenderness and grief, that all her fortitude forsook her, and she burst into an agony of tears. St. Aubert seemed struggling to acquire firmness, but was still unable to speak; he could only press her hand, and check the tears that stood trembling in his eyes. At length he commanded his voice, 'My dear child,'said he, trying to smile through his anguish, 'my dear Emily!' - and paused again. He raised his eyes to heaven, as if in prayer, and then, in a firmer tone, and with a look, in which the tenderness of the father was dignified by the pious solemnity of the saint, he said, 'My dear child, I would soften the painful truth I have to tell you, but I find myself quite unequal to the art. Alas! I would, at this moment, conceal it from you, but that it would be most cruel to deceive you. It cannot be long before we must part; let us talk of it, that our thoughts and our prayers may prepare us to bear it.'His voice faltered, while Emily, still weeping, pressed his hand close to her heart, which swelled with a convulsive sigh, but she could not look up.

Pt 'Let me not waste these moments,'said St. Aubert, recovering himself, 'I have much to say. There is a circumstance of solemn consequence, which I have to mention, and a solemn promise to obtain from you; when this is done I shall be easier. You have observed, my dear, how anxious I am to reach home, but know not all my reasons for this. Listen to what I am going to say. - Yet stay - before I say more give me this promise, a promise made to your dying father!' - St. Aubert was interrupted; Emily, struck by his last words, as if for the first time, with a conviction of his immediate danger, raised her head; her tears stopped, and, gazing at him for a moment with an expression of unutterable anguish, a slight convulsion seized her, and she sunk senseless in her chair. St. Aubert's cries brought La Voisin and his daughter to the room, and they administered every means in their power to restore her, but, for a considerable time, without effect. When she recovered, St. Aubert was so exhausted by the scene he had witnessed, that it was many minutes before he had strength to speak; he was, however, somewhat revived by a cordial, which Emily gave him; and, being again alone with her, he exerted himself to tranquilize her spirits, and to offer her all the comfort of which her situation admitted. She threw herself into his arms, wept on his neck, and grief made her so insensible to all he said, that he ceased to offer the alleviations, which he himself could not, at this moment, feel, and mingled his silent tears with hers. Recalled, at length, to a sense of duty, she tried to spare her father from a farther view of her suffering; and, quitting his embrace, dried her tears, and said something, which she meant for consolation. 'My dear Emily,'replied St. Aubert, 'my dear child, we must look up with humble confidence to that Being, who has protected and comforted us in every danger, and in every affliction we have known; to whose eye every moment of our lives has been exposed; he will not, he does not, forsake us now; I feel his consolations in my heart. I shall leave you, my child, still in his care; and, though I depart from this world, I shall be still in his presence. Nay, weep not again, my Emily. In death there is nothing new, or surprising, since we all know, that we are born to die; and nothing terrible to those, who can confide in an all-powerful God. Had my life been spared now, after a very few years, in the course of nature, I must have resigned it; old age, with all its train of infirmity, its privations and its sorrows, would have been mine; and then, at last, death would have come, and called forth the tears you now shed. Rather, my child, rejoice, that I am saved from such suffering, and that I am permitted to die with a mind unimpaired, and sensible of the comforts of faith and resignation.'St. Aubert paused, fatigued with speaking. Emily again endeavoured to assume an air of composure; and, in replying to what he had said, tried to sooth him with a belief, that he had not spoken in vain.

Pt When he had reposed a while, he resumed the conversation. 'Let me return,'said he, 'to a subject, which is very near my heart. I said I had a solemn promise to receive from you; let me receive it now, before I explain the chief circumstance which it concerns; there are others, of which your peace requires that you should rest in ignorance. Promise, then, that you will perform exactly what I shall enjoin.'

Pt Emily, awed by the earnest solemnity of his manner, dried her tears, that had begun again to flow, in spite of her efforts to suppress them; and, looking eloquently at St. Aubert, bound herself to do whatever he should require by a vow, at which she shuddered, yet knew not why.

Pt He proceeded: 'I know you too well, my Emily, to believe, that you would break any promise, much less one thus solemnly given; your assurance gives me peace, and the observance of it is of the utmost importance to your tranquillity. Hear, then, what I am going to tell you. The closet, which adjoins my chamber at La Vallee, has a sliding board in the floor. You will know it by a remarkable knot in the wood, and by its being the next board, except one, to the wainscot, which fronts the door. At the distance of about a yard from that end, nearer the window, you will perceive a line across it, as if the plank had been joined; - the way to open it is this: - Press your foot upon the line; the end of the board will then sink, and you may slide it with ease beneath the other. Below, you will see a hollow place.'St. Aubert paused for breath, and Emily sat fixed in deep attention. 'Do you understand these directions, my dear?'said he. Emily, though scarcely able to speak, assured him that she did.

Pt 'When you return home, then,'he added with a deep sigh -

Pt At the mention of her return home, all the melancholy circumstances, that must attend this return, rushed upon her fancy; she burst into convulsive grief, and St. Aubert himself, affected beyond the resistance of the fortitude which he had, at first, summoned, wept with her. After some moments, he composed himself. 'My dear child,'said he, 'be comforted. When I am gone, you will not be forsaken - I leave you only in the more immediate care of that Providence, which has never yet forsaken me. Do not afflict me with this excess of grief; rather teach me by your example to bear my own.'He stopped again, and Emily, the more she endeavoured to restrain her emotion, found it the less possible to do so.

Pt St. Aubert, who now spoke with pain, resumed the subject. 'That closet, my dear, - when you return home, go to it; and, beneath the board I have described, you will find a packet of written papers. Attend to me now, for the promise you have given particularly relates to what I shall direct. These papers you must burn - and, solemnly I command you, WITHOUT EXAMINING THEM.'

Pt Emily's surprise, for a moment, overcame her grief, and she ventured to ask, why this must be? St. Aubert replied, that, if it had been right for him to explain his reasons, her late promise would have been unnecessarily exacted. 'It is sufficient for you, my love, to have a deep sense of the importance of observing me in this instance.'St. Aubert proceeded. 'Under that board you will also find about two hundred louis d'ors, wrapped in a silk purse; indeed, it was to secure whatever money might be in the chateau, that this secret place was contrived, at a time when the province was over-run by troops of men, who took advantage of the tumults, and became plunderers.

Pt 'But I have yet another promise to receive from you, which is - that you will never, whatever may be your future circumstances, SELL the chateau.'St. Aubert even enjoined her, whenever she might marry, to make it an article in the contract, that the chateau should always be hers. He then gave her a more minute account of his present circumstances than he had yet done, adding, 'The two hundred louis, with what money you will now find in my purse, is all the ready money I have to leave you. I have told you how I am circumstanced with M. Motteville, at Paris. Ah, my child! I leave you poor - but not destitute,'he added, after a long pause. Emily could make no reply to any thing he now said, but knelt at the bed-side, with her face upon the quilt, weeping over the hand she held there.

Pt After this conversation, the mind of St. Aubert appeared to be much more at ease; but, exhausted by the effort of speaking, he sunk into a kind of doze, and Emily continued to watch and weep beside him, till a gentle tap at the chamber-door roused her. It was La Voisin, come to say, that a confessor from the neighbouring convent was below, ready to attend St. Aubert. Emily would not suffer her father to be disturbed, but desired, that the priest might not leave the cottage. When St. Aubert awoke from this doze, his senses were confused, and it was some moments before he recovered them sufficiently to know, that it was Emily who sat beside him. He then moved his lips, and stretched forth his hand to her; as she received which, she sunk back in her chair, overcome by the impression of death on his countenance. In a few minutes he recovered his voice, and Emily then asked, if he wished to see the confessor; he replied, that he did; and, when the holy father appeared, she withdrew. They remained alone together above half an hour; when Emily was called in, she found St. Aubert more agitated than when she had left him, and she gazed, with a slight degree of resentment, at the friar, as the cause of this; who, however, looked mildly and mournfully at her, and turned away. St. Aubert, in a tremulous voice, said, he wished her to join in prayer with him, and asked if La Voisin would do so too. The old man and his daughter came; they both wept, and knelt with Emily round the bed, while the holy father read in a solemn voice the service for the dying. St. Aubert lay with a serene countenance, and seemed to join fervently in the devotion, while tears often stole from beneath his closed eyelids, and Emily's sobs more than once interrupted the service.

Pt When it was concluded, and extreme unction had been administered, the friar withdrew. St. Aubert then made a sign for La Voisin to come nearer. He gave him his hand, and was, for a moment, silent. At length, he said, in a trembling voice, 'My good friend, our acquaintance has been short, but long enough to give you an opportunity of shewing me much kind attention. I cannot doubt, that you will extend this kindness to my daughter, when I am gone; she will have need of it. I entrust her to your care during the few days she will remain here. I need say no more - you know the feelings of a father, for you have children; mine would be, indeed, severe if I had less confidence in you.'He paused. La Voisin assured him, and his tears bore testimony to his sincerity, that he would do all he could to soften her affliction, and that, if St. Aubert wished it, he would even attend her into Gascony; an offer so pleasing to St. Aubert, that he had scarcely words to acknowledge his sense of the old man's kindness, or to tell him, that he accepted it. The scene, that followed between St. Aubert and Emily, affected La Voisin so much, that he quitted the chamber, and she was again left alone with her father, whose spirits seemed fainting fast, but neither his senses, or his voice, yet failed him; and, at intervals, he employed much of these last awful moments in advising his daughter, as to her future conduct. Perhaps, he never had thought more justly, or expressed himself more clearly, than he did now.

Pt 'Above all, my dear Emily,'said he, 'do not indulge in the pride of fine feeling, the romantic error of amiable minds. Those, who really possess sensibility, ought early to be taught, that it is a dangerous quality, which is continually extracting the excess of misery, or delight, from every surrounding circumstance. And, since, in our passage through this world, painful circumstances occur more frequently than pleasing ones, and since our sense of evil is, I fear, more acute than our sense of good, we become the victims of our feelings, unless we can in some degree command them. I know you will say, (for you are young, my Emily) I know you will say, that you are contented sometimes to suffer, rather than to give up your refined sense of happiness, at others; but, when your mind has been long harassed by vicissitude, you will be content to rest, and you will then recover from your delusion. You will perceive, that the phantom of happiness is exchanged for the substance; for happiness arises in a state of peace, not of tumult. It is of a temperate and uniform nature, and can no more exist in a heart, that is continually alive to minute circumstances, than in one that is dead to feeling. You see, my dear, that, though I would guard you against the dangers of sensibility, I am not an advocate for apathy. At your age I should have said THAT is a vice more hateful than all the errors of sensibility, and I say so still. I call it a VICE, because it leads to positive evil; in this, however, it does no more than an ill-governed sensibility, which, by such a rule, might also be called a vice; but the evil of the former is of more general consequence. I have exhausted myself,'said St. Aubert, feebly, 'and have wearied you, my Emily; but, on a subject so important to your future comfort, I am anxious to be perfectly understood.'

Pt Emily assured him, that his advice was most precious to her, and that she would never forget it, or cease from endeavouring to profit by it. St. Aubert smiled affectionately and sorrowfully upon her. 'I repeat it,'said he, 'I would not teach you to become insensible, if I could; I would only warn you of the evils of susceptibility, and point out how you may avoid them. Beware, my love, I conjure you, of that self-delusion, which has been fatal to the peace of so many persons; beware of priding yourself on the gracefulness of sensibility; if you yield to this vanity, your happiness is lost for ever. Always remember how much more valuable is the strength of fortitude, than the grace of sensibility. Do not, however, confound fortitude with apathy; apathy cannot know the virtue. Remember, too, that one act of beneficence, one act of real usefulness, is worth all the abstract sentiment in the world. Sentiment is a disgrace, instead of an ornament, unless it lead us to good actions. The miser, who thinks himself respectable, merely because he possesses wealth, and thus mistakes the means of doing good, for the actual accomplishment of it, is not more blameable than the man of sentiment, without active virtue. You may have observed persons, who delight so much in this sort of sensibility to sentiment, which excludes that to the calls of any practical virtue, that they turn from the distressed, and, because their sufferings are painful to be contemplated, do not endeavour to relieve them. How despicable is that humanity, which can be contented to pity, where it might assuage!'

Pt St. Aubert, some time after, spoke of Madame Cheron, his sister. 'Let me inform you of a circumstance, that nearly affects your welfare,'he added. 'We have, you know, had little intercourse for some years, but, as she is now your only female relation, I have thought it proper to consign you to her care, as you will see in my will, till you are of age, and to recommend you to her protection afterwards. She is not exactly the person, to whom I would have committed my Emily, but I had no alternative, and I believe her to be upon the whole - a good kind of woman. I need not recommend it to your prudence, my love, to endeavour to conciliate her kindness; you will do this for his sake, who has often wished to do so for yours.'

Pt Emily assured him, that, whatever he requested she would religiously perform to the utmost of her ability. 'Alas!'added she, in a voice interrupted by sighs, 'that will soon be all which remains for me; it will be almost my only consolation to fulfil your wishes.'

Pt St. Aubert looked up silently in her face, as if would have spoken, but his spirit sunk a while, and his eyes became heavy and dull. She felt that look at her heart. 'My dear father!'she exclaimed; and then, checking herself, pressed his hand closer, and hid her face with her handkerchief. Her tears were concealed, but St. Aubert heard her convulsive sobs. His spirits returned. 'O my child!'said he, faintly, 'let my consolations be yours. I die in peace; for I know, that I am about to return to the bosom of my Father, who will still be your Father, when I am gone. Always trust in him, my love, and he will support you in these moments, as he supports me.'

Pt Emily could only listen, and weep; but the extreme composure of his manner, and the faith and hope he expressed, somewhat soothed her anguish. Yet, whenever she looked upon his emaciated countenance, and saw the lines of death beginning to prevail over it - saw his sunk eyes, still bent on her, and their heavy lids pressing to a close, there was a pang in her heart, such as defied expression, though it required filial virtue, like hers, to forbear the attempt.

Pt He desired once more to bless her; 'Where are you, my dear?'said he, as he stretched forth his hands. Emily had turned to the window, that he might not perceive her anguish; she now understood, that his sight had failed him. When he had given her his blessing, and it seemed to be the last effort of expiring life, he sunk back on his pillow. She kissed his forehead; the damps of death had settled there, and, forgetting her fortitude for a moment, her tears mingled with them. St. Aubert lifted up his eyes; the spirit of a father returned to them, but it quickly vanished, and he spoke no more.

Pt St. Aubert lingered till about three o'clock in the afternoon, and, thus gradually sinking into death, he expired without a struggle, or a sigh.

Pt Emily was led from the chamber by La Voisin and his daughter, who did what they could to comfort her. The old man sat and wept with her. Agnes was more erroneously officious.

Chapter VIII

Pt O'er him, whose doom thy virtues grieve, Aerial forms shall sit at eve, and bend the pensive head. COLLINS

Pt The monk, who had before appeared, returned in the evening to offer consolation to Emily, and brought a kind message from the lady abbess, inviting her to the convent. Emily, though she did not accept the offer, returned an answer expressive of her gratitude. The holy conversation of the friar, whose mild benevolence of manners bore some resemblance to those of St. Aubert, soothed the violence of her grief, and lifted her heart to the Being, who, extending through all place and all eternity, looks on the events of this little world as on the shadows of a moment, and beholds equally, and in the same instant, the soul that has passed the gates of death, and that, which still lingers in the body. 'In the sight of God,'said Emily, 'my dear father now exists, as truly as he yesterday existed to me; it is to me only that he is dead; to God and to himself he yet lives!'

Pt The good monk left her more tranquil than she had been since St. Aubert died; and, before she retired to her little cabin for the night, she trusted herself so far as to visit the corpse. Silent, and without weeping, she stood by its side. The features, placid and serene, told the nature of the last sensations, that had lingered in the now deserted frame. For a moment she turned away, in horror of the stillness in which death had fixed that countenance, never till now seen otherwise than animated; then gazed on it with a mixture of doubt and awful astonishment. Her reason could scarcely overcome an involuntary and unaccountable expectation of seeing that beloved countenance still susceptible. She continued to gaze wildly; took up the cold hand; spoke; still gazed, and then burst into a transport of grief. La Voisin, hearing her sobs, came into the room to lead her away, but she heard nothing, and only begged that he would leave her.

Pt Again alone, she indulged her tears, and, when the gloom of evening obscured the chamber, and almost veiled from her eyes the object of her distress, she still hung over the body; till her spirits, at length, were exhausted, and she became tranquil. La Voisin again knocked at the door, and entreated that she would come to the common apartment. Before she went, she kissed the lips of St. Aubert, as she was wont to do when she bade him good night. Again she kissed them; her heart felt as if it would break, a few tears of agony started to her eyes, she looked up to heaven, then at St. Aubert, and left the room.

Pt Retired to her lonely cabin, her melancholy thoughts still hovered round the body of her deceased parent; and, when she sunk into a kind of slumber, the images of her waking mind still haunted her fancy. She thought she saw her father approaching her with a benign countenance; then, smiling mournfully and pointing upwards, his lips moved, but, instead of words, she heard sweet music borne on the distant air, and presently saw his features glow with the mild rapture of a superior being. The strain seemed to swell louder, and she awoke. The vision was gone, but music yet came to her ear in strains such as angels might breathe. She doubted, listened, raised herself in the bed, and again listened. It was music, and not an illusion of her imagination. After a solemn steady harmony, it paused; then rose again, in mournful sweetness, and then died, in a cadence, that seemed to bear away the listening soul to heaven. She instantly remembered the music of the preceding night, with the strange circumstances, related by La Voisin, and the affecting conversation it had led to, concerning the state of departed spirits. All that St. Aubert had said, on that subject, now pressed upon her heart, and overwhelmed it. What a change in a few hours! He, who then could only conjecture, was now made acquainted with truth; was himself become one of the departed! As she listened, she was chilled with superstitious awe, her tears stopped; and she rose, and went to the window. All without was obscured in shade; but Emily, turning her eyes from the massy darkness of the woods, whose waving outline appeared on the horizon, saw, on the left, that effulgent planet, which the old man had pointed out, setting over the woods. She remembered what he had said concerning it, and, the music now coming at intervals on the air, she unclosed the casement to listen to the strains, that soon gradually sunk to a greater distance, and tried to discover whence they came. The obscurity prevented her from distinguishing any object on the green platform below; and the sounds became fainter and fainter, till they softened into silence. She listened, but they returned no more. Soon after, she observed the planet trembling between the fringed tops of the woods, and, in the next moment, sink behind them. Chilled with a melancholy awe, she retired once more to her bed, and, at length, forgot for a while her sorrows in sleep.

Pt On the following morning, she was visited by a sister of the convent, who came, with kind offices and a second invitation from the lady abbess; and Emily, though she could not forsake the cottage, while the remains of her father were in it, consented, however painful such a visit must be, in the present state of her spirits, to pay her respects to the abbess, in the evening.

Pt About an hour before sun-set, La Voisin shewed her the way through the woods to the convent, which stood in a small bay of the Mediterranean, crowned by a woody amphitheatre; and Emily, had she been less unhappy, would have admired the extensive sea view, that appeared from the green slope, in front of the edifice, and the rich shores, hung with woods and pastures, that extended on either hand. But her thoughts were now occupied by one sad idea, and the features of nature were to her colourless and without form. The bell for vespers struck, as she passed the ancient gate of the convent, and seemed the funereal note for St. Aubert. Little incidents affect a mind, enervated by sorrow; Emily struggled against the sickening faintness, that came over her, and was led into the presence of the abbess, who received her with an air of maternal tenderness; an air of such gentle solicitude and consideration, as touched her with an instantaneous gratitude; her eyes were filled with tears, and the words she would have spoken faltered on her lips. The abbess led her to a seat, and sat down beside her, still holding her hand and regarding her in silence, as Emily dried her tears and attempted to speak. 'Be composed, my daughter,'said the abbess in a soothing voice, 'do not speak yet; I know all you would say. Your spirits must be soothed. We are going to prayers; - will you attend our evening service? It is comfortable, my child, to look up in our afflictions to a father, who sees and pities us, and who chastens in his mercy.'

Pt Emily's tears flowed again, but a thousand sweet emotions mingled with them. The abbess suffered her to weep without interruption, and watched over her with a look of benignity, that might have characterized the countenance of a guardian angel. Emily, when she became tranquil, was encouraged to speak without reserve, and to mention the motive, that made her unwilling to quit the cottage, which the abbess did not oppose even by a hint; but praised the filial piety of her conduct, and added a hope, that she would pass a few days at the convent, before she returned to La Vallee. 'You must allow yourself a little time to recover from your first shock, my daughter, before you encounter a second; I will not affect to conceal from you how much I know your heart must suffer, on returning to the scene of your former happiness. Here, you will have all, that quiet and sympathy and religion can give, to restore your spirits. But come,'added she, observing the tears swell in Emily's eyes, 'we will go to the chapel.'

Pt Emily followed to the parlour, where the nuns were assembled, to whom the abbess committed her, saying, 'This is a daughter, for whom I have much esteem; be sisters to her.'

Pt They passed on in a train to the chapel, where the solemn devotion, with which the service was performed, elevated her mind, and brought to it the comforts of faith and resignation.

Pt Twilight came on, before the abbess's kindness would suffer Emily to depart, when she left the convent, with a heart much lighter than she had entered it, and was reconducted by La Voisin through the woods, the pensive gloom of which was in unison with the temper of her mind; and she pursued the little wild path, in musing silence, till her guide suddenly stopped, looked round, and then struck out of the path into the high grass, saying he had mistaken the road. He now walked on quickly, and Emily, proceeding with difficulty over the obscured and uneven ground, was left at some distance, till her voice arrested him, who seemed unwilling to stop, and still hurried on. 'If you are in doubt about the way,'said Emily, 'had we not better enquire it at the chateau yonder, between the trees?'

Pt 'No,'replied La Voisin, 'there is no occasion. When we reach that brook, ma'amselle, (you see the light upon the water there, beyond the woods) when we reach that brook, we shall be at home presently. I don't know how I happened to mistake the path; I seldom come this way after sun-set.'

Pt 'It is solitary enough,'said Emily, 'but you have no banditti here.'

Pt 'No, ma'amselle - no banditti.'

Pt 'What are you afraid of then, my good friend? you are not superstitious?''No, not superstitious; but, to tell you the truth, lady, nobody likes to go near that chateau, after dusk.''By whom is it inhabited,'said Emily, 'that it is so formidable?''Why, ma'amselle, it is scarcely inhabited, for our lord the Marquis, and the lord of all these find woods, too, is dead. He had not once been in it, for these many years, and his people, who have the care of it, live in a cottage close by.'Emily now understood this to be the chateau, which La Voisin had formerly pointed out, as having belonged to the Marquis Villeroi, on the mention of which her father had appeared so much affected.

Pt 'Ah! it is a desolate place now,'continued La Voisin, 'and such a grand, fine place, as I remember it!'Emily enquired what had occasioned this lamentable change; but the old man was silent, and Emily, whose interest was awakened by the fear he had expressed, and above all by a recollection of her father's agitation, repeated the question, and added, 'If you are neither afraid of the inhabitants, my good friend, nor are superstitious, how happens it, that you dread to pass near that chateau in the dark?'

Pt 'Perhaps, then, I am a little superstitious, ma'amselle; and, if you knew what I do, you might be so too. Strange things have happened there. Monsieur, your good father, appeared to have known the late Marchioness.''Pray inform me what did happen?'said Emily, with much emotion.

Pt 'Alas! ma'amselle,'answered La Voisin, 'enquire no further; it is not for me to lay open the domestic secrets of my lord.' - Emily, surprised by the old man's words, and his manner of delivering them, forbore to repeat her question; a nearer interest, the remembrance of St. Aubert, occupied her thoughts, and she was led to recollect the music she heard on the preceding night, which she mentioned to La Voisin. 'You was not alone, ma'amselle, in this,'he replied, 'I heard it too; but I have so often heard it, at the same hour, that I was scarcely surprised.'

Pt 'You doubtless believe this music to have some connection with the chateau,'said Emily suddenly, 'and are, therefore, superstitious.''It may be so, ma'amselle, but there are other circumstances, belonging to that chateau, which I remember, and sadly too.'A heavy sigh followed: but Emily's delicacy restrained the curiosity these words revived, and she enquired no further.

Pt On reaching the cottage, all the violence of her grief returned; it seemed as if she had escaped its heavy pressure only while she was removed from the object of it. She passed immediately to the chamber, where the remains of her father were laid, and yielded to all the anguish of hopeless grief. La Voisin, at length, persuaded her to leave the room, and she returned to her own, where, exhausted by the sufferings of the day, she soon fell into deep sleep, and awoke considerably refreshed.

Pt When the dreadful hour arrived, in which the remains of St. Aubert were to be taken from her for ever, she went alone to the chamber to look upon his countenance yet once again, and La Voisin, who had waited patiently below stairs, till her despair should subside, with the respect due to grief, forbore to interrupt the indulgence of it, till surprise, at the length of her stay, and then apprehension overcame his delicacy, and he went to lead her from the chamber. Having tapped gently at the door, without receiving an answer, he listened attentively, but all was still; no sigh, no sob of anguish was heard. Yet more alarmed by this silence, he opened the door, and found Emily lying senseless across the foot of the bed, near which stood the coffin. His calls procured assistance, and she was carried to her room, where proper applications, at length, restored her.

Pt During her state of insensibility, La Voisin had given directions for the coffin to be closed, and he succeeded in persuading Emily to forbear revisiting the chamber. She, indeed, felt herself unequal to this, and also perceived the necessity of sparing her spirits, and recollecting fortitude sufficient to bear her through the approaching scene. St. Aubert had given a particular injunction, that his remains should be interred in the church of the convent of St. Clair, and, in mentioning the north chancel, near the ancient tomb of the Villerois, had pointed out the exact spot, where he wished to be laid. The superior had granted this place for the interment, and thither, therefore, the sad procession now moved, which was met, at the gates, by the venerable priest, followed by a train of friars. Every person, who heard the solemn chant of the anthem, and the peal of the organ, that struck up, when the body entered the church, and saw also the feeble steps, and the assumed tranquillity of Emily, gave her involuntary tears. She shed none, but walked, her face partly shaded by a thin black veil, between two persons, who supported her, preceded by the abbess, and followed by nuns, whose plaintive voices mellowed the swelling harmony of the dirge. When the procession came to the grave the music ceased. Emily drew the veil entirely over her face, and, in a momentary pause, between the anthem and the rest of the service, her sobs were distinctly audible. The holy father began the service, and Emily again commanded her feelings, till the coffin was let down, and she heard the earth rattle on its lid. Then, as she shuddered, a groan burst from her heart, and she leaned for support on the person who stood next to her. In a few moments she recovered; and, when she heard those affecting and sublime words: 'His body is buried in peace, and his soul returns to Him that gave it,'her anguish softened into tears.

Pt The abbess led her from the church into her own parlour, and there administered all the consolations, that religion and gentle sympathy can give. Emily struggled against the pressure of grief; but the abbess, observing her attentively, ordered a bed to be prepared, and recommended her to retire to repose. She also kindly claimed her promise to remain a few days at the convent; and Emily, who had no wish to return to the cottage, the scene of all her sufferings, had leisure, now that no immediate care pressed upon her attention, to feel the indisposition, which disabled her from immediately travelling.

Pt Meanwhile, the maternal kindness of the abbess, and the gentle attentions of the nuns did all, that was possible, towards soothing her spirits and restoring her health. But the latter was too deeply wounded, through the medium of her mind, to be quickly revived. She lingered for some weeks at the convent, under the influence of a slow fever, wishing to return home, yet unable to go thither; often even reluctant to leave the spot where her father's relics were deposited, and sometimes soothing herself with the consideration, that, if she died here, her remains would repose beside those of St. Aubert. In the meanwhile, she sent letters to Madame Cheron and to the old housekeeper, informing them of the sad event, that had taken place, and of her own situation. From her aunt she received an answer, abounding more in common-place condolement, than in traits of real sorrow, which assured her, that a servant should be sent to conduct her to La Vallee, for that her own time was so much occupied by company, that she had no leisure to undertake so long a journey. However Emily might prefer La Vallee to Tholouse, she could not be insensible to the indecorous and unkind conduct of her aunt, in suffering her to return thither, where she had no longer a relation to console and protect her; a conduct, which was the more culpable, since St. Aubert had appointed Madame Cheron the guardian of his orphan daughter.

Pt Madame Cheron's servant made the attendance of the good La Voisin unnecessary; and Emily, who felt sensibly her obligations to him, for all his kind attention to her late father, as well as to herself, was glad to spare him a long, and what, at his time of life, must have been a troublesome journey.

Pt During her stay at the convent, the peace and sanctity that reigned within, the tranquil beauty of the scenery without, and the delicate attentions of the abbess and the nuns, were circumstances so soothing to her mind, that they almost tempted her to leave a world, where she had lost her dearest friends, and devote herself to the cloister, in a spot, rendered sacred to her by containing the tomb of St. Aubert. The pensive enthusiasm, too, so natural to her temper, had spread a beautiful illusion over the sanctified retirement of a nun, that almost hid from her view the selfishness of its security. But the touches, which a melancholy fancy, slightly tinctured with superstition, gave to the monastic scene, began to fade, as her spirits revived, and brought once more to her heart an image, which had only transiently been banished thence. By this she was silently awakened to hope and comfort and sweet affections; visions of happiness gleamed faintly at a distance, and, though she knew them to be illusions, she could not resolve to shut them out for ever. It was the remembrance of Valancourt, of his taste, his genius, and of the countenance which glowed with both, that, perhaps, alone determined her to return to the world. The grandeur and sublimity of the scenes, amidst which they had first met, had fascinated her fancy, and had imperceptibly contributed to render Valancourt more interesting by seeming to communicate to him somewhat of their own character. The esteem, too, which St. Aubert had repeatedly expressed for him, sanctioned this kindness; but, though his countenance and manner had continually expressed his admiration of her, he had not otherwise declared it; and even the hope of seeing him again was so distant, that she was scarcely conscious of it, still less that it influenced her conduct on this occasion.

Pt It was several days after the arrival of Madame Cheron's servant before Emily was sufficiently recovered to undertake the journey to La Vallee. On the evening preceding her departure, she went to the cottage to take leave of La Voisin and his family, and to make them a return for their kindness. The old man she found sitting on a bench at his door, between his daughter, and his son-in-law, who was just returned from his daily labour, and who was playing upon a pipe, that, in tone, resembled an oboe. A flask of wine stood beside the old man, and, before him, a small table with fruit and bread, round which stood several of his grandsons, fine rosy children, who were taking their supper, as their mother distributed it. On the edge of the little green, that spread before the cottage, were cattle and a few sheep reposing under the trees. The landscape was touched with the mellow light of the evening sun, whose long slanting beams played through a vista of the woods, and lighted up the distant turrets of the chateau. She paused a moment, before she emerged from the shade, to gaze upon the happy group before her - on the complacency and ease of healthy age, depictured on the countenance of La Voisin; the maternal tenderness of Agnes, as she looked upon her children, and the innocency of infantine pleasures, reflected in their smiles. Emily looked again at the venerable old man, and at the cottage; the memory of her father rose with full force upon her mind, and she hastily stepped forward, afraid to trust herself with a longer pause. She took an affectionate and affecting leave of La Voisin and his family; he seemed to love her as his daughter, and shed tears; Emily shed many. She avoided going into the cottage, since she knew it would revive emotions, such as she could not now endure.

Pt One painful scene yet awaited her, for she determined to visit again her father's grave; and that she might not be interrupted, or observed in the indulgence of her melancholy tenderness, she deferred her visit, till every inhabitant of the convent, except the nun who promised to bring her the key of the church, should be retired to rest. Emily remained in her chamber, till she heard the convent bell strike twelve, when the nun came, as she had appointed, with the key of a private door, that opened into the church, and they descended together the narrow winding stair-case, that led thither. The nun offered to accompany Emily to the grave, adding, 'It is melancholy to go alone at this hour;'but the former, thanking her for the consideration, could not consent to have any witness of her sorrow; and the sister, having unlocked the door, gave her the lamp. 'You will remember, sister,'said she, 'that in the east aisle, which you must pass, is a newly opened grave; hold the light to the ground, that you may not stumble over the loose earth.'Emily, thanking her again, took the lamp, and, stepping into the church, sister Mariette departed. But Emily paused a moment at the door; a sudden fear came over her, and she returned to the foot of the stair-case, where, as she heard the steps of the nun ascending, and, while she held up the lamp, saw her black veil waving over the spiral balusters, she was tempted to call her back. While she hesitated, the veil disappeared, and, in the next moment, ashamed of her fears, she returned to the church. The cold air of the aisles chilled her, and their deep silence and extent, feebly shone upon by the moon-light, that streamed through a distant gothic window, would at any other time have awed her into superstition; now, grief occupied all her attention. She scarcely heard the whispering echoes of her own steps, or thought of the open grave, till she found herself almost on its brink. A friar of the convent had been buried there on the preceding evening, and, as she had sat alone in her chamber at twilight, she heard, at distance, the monks chanting the requiem for his soul. This brought freshly to her memory the circumstances of her father's death; and, as the voices, mingling with a low querulous peal of the organ, swelled faintly, gloomy and affecting visions had arisen upon her mind. Now she remembered them, and, turning aside to avoid the broken ground, these recollections made her pass on with quicker steps to the grave of St. Aubert, when in the moon-light, that fell athwart a remote part of the aisle, she thought she saw a shadow gliding between the pillars. She stopped to listen, and, not hearing any footstep, believed that her fancy had deceived her, and, no longer apprehensive of being observed, proceeded. St. Aubert was buried beneath a plain marble, bearing little more than his name and the date of his birth and death, near the foot of the stately monument of the Villerois. Emily remained at his grave, till a chime, that called the monks to early prayers, warned her to retire; then, she wept over it a last farewel, and forced herself from the spot. After this hour of melancholy indulgence, she was refreshed by a deeper sleep, than she had experienced for a long time, and, on awakening, her mind was more tranquil and resigned, than it had been since St. Aubert's death.

Pt But, when the moment of her departure from the convent arrived, all her grief returned; the memory of the dead, and the kindness of the living attached her to the place; and for the sacred spot, where her father's remains were interred, she seemed to feel all those tender affections which we conceive for home. The abbess repeated many kind assurances of regard at their parting, and pressed her to return, if ever she should find her condition elsewhere unpleasant; many of the nuns also expressed unaffected regret at her departure, and Emily left the convent with many tears, and followed by sincere wishes for her happiness.

Pt She had travelled several leagues, before the scenes of the country, through which she passed, had power to rouse her for a moment from the deep melancholy, into which she was sunk, and, when they did, it was only to remind her, that, on her last view of them, St. Aubert was at her side, and to call up to her remembrance the remarks he had delivered on similar scenery. Thus, without any particular occurrence, passed the day in languor and dejection. She slept that night in a town on the skirts of Languedoc, and, on the following morning, entered Gascony.

Pt Towards the close of this day, Emily came within view of the plains in the neighbourhood of La Vallee, and the well-known objects of former times began to press upon her notice, and with them recollections, that awakened all her tenderness and grief. Often, while she looked through her tears upon the wild grandeur of the Pyrenees, now varied with the rich lights and shadows of evening, she remembered, that, when last she saw them, her father partook with her of the pleasure they inspired. Suddenly some scene, which he had particularly pointed out to her, would present itself, and the sick languor of despair would steal upon her heart. 'There!'she would exclaim, 'there are the very cliffs, there the wood of pines, which he looked at with such delight, as we passed this road together for the last time. There, too, under the crag of that mountain, is the cottage, peeping from among the cedars, which he bade me remember, and copy with my pencil. O my father, shall I never see you more!'

Pt As she drew near the chateau, these melancholy memorials of past times multiplied. At length, the chateau itself appeared, amid the glowing beauty of St. Aubert's favourite landscape. This was an object, which called for fortitude, not for tears; Emily dried hers, and prepared to meet with calmness the trying moment of her return to that home, where there was no longer a parent to welcome her. 'Yes,'said she, 'let me not forget the lessons he has taught me! How often he has pointed out the necessity of resisting even virtuous sorrow; how often we have admired together the greatness of a mind, that can at once suffer and reason! O my father! if you are permitted to look down upon your child, it will please you to see, that she remembers, and endeavours to practise, the precepts you have given her.'

Pt A turn on the road now allowed a nearer view of the chateau, the chimneys, tipped with light, rising from behind St. Aubert's favourite oaks, whose foliage partly concealed the lower part of the building. Emily could not suppress a heavy sigh. 'This, too, was his favourite hour,'said she, as she gazed upon the long evening shadows, stretched athwart the landscape. 'How deep the repose, how lovely the scene! lovely and tranquil as in former days!'

Pt Again she resisted the pressure of sorrow, till her ear caught the gay melody of the dance, which she had so often listened to, as she walked with St. Aubert, on the margin of the Garonne, when all her fortitude forsook her, and she continued to weep, till the carriage stopped at the little gate, that opened upon what was now her own territory. She raised her eyes on the sudden stopping of the carriage, and saw her father's old housekeeper coming to open the gate. Manchon also came running, and barking before her; and when his young mistress alighted, fawned, and played round her, gasping with joy.

Pt 'Dear ma'amselle!'said Theresa, and paused, and looked as if she would have offered something of condolement to Emily, whose tears now prevented reply. The dog still fawned and ran round her, and then flew towards the carriage, with a short quick bark. 'Ah, ma'amselle! - my poor master!'said Theresa, whose feelings were more awakened than her delicacy, 'Manchon's gone to look for him.'Emily sobbed aloud; and, on looking towards the carriage, which still stood with the door open, saw the animal spring into it, and instantly leap out, and then with his nose on the ground run round the horses.

Pt 'Don't cry so, ma'amselle,'said Theresa, 'it breaks my heart to see you.'The dog now came running to Emily, then returned to the carriage, and then back again to her, whining and discontented. 'Poor rogue!'said Theresa, 'thou hast lost thy master, thou mayst well cry! But come, my dear young lady, be comforted. What shall I get to refresh you?'Emily gave her hand to the old servant, and tried to restrain her grief, while she made some kind enquiries concerning her health. But she still lingered in the walk which led to the chateau, for within was no person to meet her with the kiss of affection; her own heart no longer palpitated with impatient joy to meet again the well-known smile, and she dreaded to see objects, which would recall the full remembrance of her former happiness. She moved slowly towards the door, paused, went on, and paused again. How silent, how forsaken, how forlorn did the chateau appear! Trembling to enter it, yet blaming herself for delaying what she could not avoid, she, at length, passed into the hall; crossed it with a hurried step, as if afraid to look round, and opened the door of that room, which she was wont to call her own. The gloom of evening gave solemnity to its silent and deserted air. The chairs, the tables, every article of furniture, so familiar to her in happier times, spoke eloquently to her heart. She seated herself, without immediately observing it, in a window, which opened upon the garden, and where St. Aubert had often sat with her, watching the sun retire from the rich and extensive prospect, that appeared beyond the groves.

Pt Having indulged her tears for some time, she became more composed; and, when Theresa, after seeing the baggage deposited in her lady's room, again appeared, she had so far recovered her spirits, as to be able to converse with her.

Pt 'I have made up the green bed for you, ma'amselle,'said Theresa, as she set the coffee upon the table. 'I thought you would like it better than your own now; but I little thought this day month, that you would come back alone. A-well-a-day! the news almost broke my heart, when it did come. Who would have believed, that my poor master, when he went from home, would never return again!'Emily hid her face with her handkerchief, and waved her hand.

Pt 'Do taste the coffee,'said Theresa. 'My dear young lady, be comforted - we must all die. My dear master is a saint above.'Emily took the handkerchief from her face, and raised her eyes full of tears towards heaven; soon after she dried them, and, in a calm, but tremulous voice, began to enquire concerning some of her late father's pensioners.

Pt 'Alas-a-day!'said Theresa, as she poured out the coffee, and handed it to her mistress, 'all that could come, have been here every day to enquire after you and my master.'She then proceeded to tell, that some were dead whom they had left well; and others, who were ill, had recovered. 'And see, ma'amselle,'added Theresa, 'there is old Mary coming up the garden now; she has looked every day these three years as if she would die, yet she is alive still. She has seen the chaise at the door, and knows you are come home.'

Pt The sight of this poor old woman would have been too much for Emily, and she begged Theresa would go and tell her, that she was too ill to see any person that night. 'To-morrow I shall be better, perhaps; but give her this token of my remembrance.'

Pt Emily sat for some time, given up to sorrow. Not an object, on which her eye glanced, but awakened some remembrance, that led immediately to the subject of her grief. Her favourite plants, which St. Aubert had taught her to nurse; the little drawings, that adorned the room, which his taste had instructed her to execute; the books, that he had selected for her use, and which they had read together; her musical instruments, whose sounds he loved so well, and which he sometimes awakened himself - every object gave new force to sorrow. At length, she roused herself from this melancholy indulgence, and, summoning all her resolution, stepped forward to go into those forlorn rooms, which, though she dreaded to enter, she knew would yet more powerfully affect her, if she delayed to visit them.

Pt Having passed through the green-house, her courage for a moment forsook her, when she opened the door of the library; and, perhaps, the shade, which evening and the foliage of the trees near the windows threw across the room, heightened the solemnity of her feelings on entering that apartment, where every thing spoke of her father. There was an arm chair, in which he used to sit; she shrunk when she observed it, for she had so often seen him seated there, and the idea of him rose so distinctly to her mind, that she almost fancied she saw him before her. But she checked the illusions of a distempered imagination, though she could not subdue a certain degree of awe, which now mingled with her emotions. She walked slowly to the chair, and seated herself in it; there was a reading-desk before it, on which lay a book open, as it had been left by her father. It was some moments before she recovered courage enough to examine it; and, when she looked at the open page, she immediately recollected, that St. Aubert, on the evening before his departure from the chateau, had read to her some passages from this his favourite author. The circumstance now affected her extremely; she looked at the page, wept, and looked again. To her the book appeared sacred and invaluable, and she would not have moved it, or closed the page, which he had left open, for the treasures of the Indies. Still she sat before the desk, and could not resolve to quit it, though the increasing gloom, and the profound silence of the apartment, revived a degree of painful awe. Her thoughts dwelt on the probable state of departed spirits, and she remembered the affecting conversation, which had passed between St. Aubert and La Voisin, on the night preceding his death.

Pt As she mused she saw the door slowly open, and a rustling sound in a remote part of the room startled her. Through the dusk she thought she perceived something move. The subject she had been considering, and the present tone of her spirits, which made her imagination respond to every impression of her senses, gave her a sudden terror of something supernatural. She sat for a moment motionless, and then, her dissipated reason returning, 'What should I fear?'said she. 'If the spirits of those we love ever return to us, it is in kindness.'

Pt The silence, which again reigned, made her ashamed of her late fears, and she believed, that her imagination had deluded her, or that she had heard one of those unaccountable noises, which sometimes occur in old houses. The same sound, however, returned; and, distinguishing something moving towards her, and in the next instant press beside her into the chair, she shrieked; but her fleeting senses were instantly recalled, on perceiving that it was Manchon who sat by her, and who now licked her hands affectionately.

Pt Perceiving her spirits unequal to the task she had assigned herself of visiting the deserted rooms of the chateau this night, when she left the library, she walked into the garden, and down to the terrace, that overhung the river. The sun was now set; but, under the dark branches of the almond trees, was seen the saffron glow of the west, spreading beyond the twilight of middle air. The bat flitted silently by; and, now and then, the mourning note of the nightingale was heard. The circumstances of the hour brought to her recollection some lines, which she had once heard St. Aubert recite on this very spot, and she had now a melancholy pleasure in repeating them.

Pt SONNET Now the bat circles on the breeze of eve, That creeps, in shudd'ring fits, along the wave, And trembles 'mid the woods, and through the cave Whose lonely sighs the wanderer deceive; For oft, when melancholy charms his mind, He thinks the Spirit of the rock he hears, Nor listens, but with sweetly-thrilling fears, To the low, mystic murmurs of the wind! Now the bat circles, and the twilight-dew Falls silent round, and, o'er the mountain-cliff, The gleaming wave, and far-discover'd skiff, Spreads the gray veil of soft, harmonious hue. So falls o'er Grief the dew of pity's tear Dimming her lonely visions of despair.

Pt Emily, wandering on, came to St. Aubert's favourite plane-tree, where so often, at this hour, they had sat beneath the shade together, and with her dear mother so often had conversed on the subject of a future state. How often, too, had her father expressed the comfort he derived from believing, that they should meet in another world! Emily, overcome by these recollections, left the plane-tree, and, as she leaned pensively on the wall of the terrace, she observed a group of peasants dancing gaily on the banks of the Garonne, which spread in broad expanse below, and reflected the evening light. What a contrast they formed to the desolate, unhappy Emily! They were gay and debonnaire, as they were wont to be when she, too, was gay - when St. Aubert used to listen to their merry music, with a countenance beaming pleasure and benevolence. Emily, having looked for a moment on this sprightly band, turned away, unable to bear the remembrances it excited; but where, alas! could she turn, and not meet new objects to give acuteness to grief?

Pt As she walked slowly towards the house, she was met by Theresa. 'Dear ma'amselle,'said she, 'I have been seeking you up and down this half hour, and was afraid some accident had happened to you. How can you like to wander about so in this night air! Do come into the house. Think what my poor master would have said, if he could see you. I am sure, when my dear lady died, no gentleman could take it more to heart than he did, yet you know he seldom shed a tear.'

Pt 'Pray, Theresa, cease,'said Emily, wishing to interrupt this ill-judged, but well-meaning harangue; Theresa's loquacity, however, was not to be silenced so easily. 'And when you used to grieve so,'she added, 'he often told you how wrong it was - for that my mistress was happy. And, if she was happy, I am sure he is so too; for the prayers of the poor, they say, reach heaven.'During this speech, Emily had walked silently into the chateau, and Theresa lighted her across the hall into the common sitting parlour, where she had laid the cloth, with one solitary knife and fork, for supper. Emily was in the room before she perceived that it was not her own apartment, but she checked the emotion which inclined her to leave it, and seated herself quietly by the little supper table. Her father's hat hung upon the opposite wall; while she gazed at it, a faintness came over her. Theresa looked at her, and then at the object, on which her eyes were settled, and went to remove it; but Emily waved her hand - 'No,'said she, 'let it remain. I am going to my chamber.''Nay, ma'amselle, supper is ready.''I cannot take it,'replied Emily, 'I will go to my room, and try to sleep. Tomorrow I shall be better.'

Pt 'This is poor doings!'said Theresa. 'Dear lady! do take some food! I have dressed a pheasant, and a fine one it is. Old Monsieur Barreaux sent it this morning, for I saw him yesterday, and told him you were coming. And I know nobody that seemed more concerned, when he heard the sad news, then he.'

Pt 'Did he?'said Emily, in a tender voice, while she felt her poor heart warmed for a moment by a ray of sympathy.

Pt At length, her spirits were entirely overcome, and she retired to her room.

Chapter IX

Pt Can Music's voice, can Beauty's eye, Can Painting's glowing hand supply A charm so suited to my mind, As blows this hollow gust of wind? As drops this little weeping rill, Soft tinkling down the moss-grown hill; While, through the west, where sinks the crimson day, Meek Twilight slowly sails, and waves her banners gray? MASON

Pt Emily, some time after her return to La Vallee, received letters from her aunt, Madame Cheron, in which, after some common-place condolement and advice, she invited her to Tholouse, and added, that, as her late brother had entrusted Emily's EDUCATION to her, she should consider herself bound to overlook her conduct. Emily, at this time, wished only to remain at La Vallee, in the scenes of her early happiness, now rendered infinitely dear to her, as the late residence of those, whom she had lost for ever, where she could weep unobserved, retrace their steps, and remember each minute particular of their manners. But she was equally anxious to avoid the displeasure of Madame Cheron.

Pt Though her affection would not suffer her to question, even a moment, the propriety of St. Aubert's conduct in appointing Madame Cheron for her guardian, she was sensible, that this step had made her happiness depend, in a great degree, on the humour of her aunt. In her reply, she begged permission to remain, at present, at La Vallee, mentioning the extreme dejection of her spirits, and the necessity she felt for quiet and retirement to restore them. These she knew were not to be found at Madame Cheron's, whose inclinations led her into a life of dissipation, which her ample fortune encouraged; and, having given her answer, she felt somewhat more at ease.

Pt In the first days of her affliction, she was visited by Monsieur Barreaux, a sincere mourner for St. Aubert. 'I may well lament my friend,'said he, 'for I shall never meet with his resemblance. If I could have found such a man in what is called society, I should not have left it.'

Pt M. Barreaux's admiration of her father endeared him extremely to Emily, whose heart found almost its first relief in conversing of her parents, with a man, whom she so much revered, and who, though with such an ungracious appearance, possessed to much goodness of heart and delicacy of mind.

Pt Several weeks passed away in quiet retirement, and Emily's affliction began to soften into melancholy. She could bear to read the books she had before read with her father; to sit in his chair in the library - to watch the flowers his hand had planted - to awaken the tones of that instrument his fingers had pressed, and sometimes even to play his favourite air.

Pt When her mind had recovered from the first shock of affliction, perceiving the danger of yielding to indolence, and that activity alone could restore its tone, she scrupulously endeavoured to pass all her hours in employment. And it was now that she understood the full value of the education she had received from St. Aubert, for in cultivating her understanding he had secured her an asylum from indolence, without recourse to dissipation, and rich and varied amusement and information, independent of the society, from which her situation secluded her. Nor were the good effects of this education confined to selfish advantages, since, St. Aubert having nourished every amiable qualify of her heart, it now expanded in benevolence to all around her, and taught her, when she could not remove the misfortunes of others, at least to soften them by sympathy and tenderness; - a benevolence that taught her to feel for all, that could suffer.

Pt Madame Cheron returned no answer to Emily's letter, who began to hope, that she should be permitted to remain some time longer in her retirement, and her mind had now so far recovered its strength, that she ventured to view the scenes, which most powerfully recalled the images of past times. Among these was the fishing-house; and, to indulge still more the affectionate melancholy of the visit, she took thither her lute, that she might again hear there the tones, to which St. Aubert and her mother had so often delighted to listen. She went alone, and at that still hour of the evening which is so soothing to fancy and to grief. The last time she had been here she was in company with Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert, a few days preceding that, on which the latter was seized with a fatal illness. Now, when Emily again entered the woods, that surrounded the building, they awakened so forcibly the memory of former times, that her resolution yielded for a moment to excess of grief. She stopped, leaned for support against a tree, and wept for some minutes, before she had recovered herself sufficiently to proceed. The little path, that led to the building, was overgrown with grass and the flowers which St. Aubert had scattered carelessly along the border were almost choked with weeds - the tall thistle - the fox-glove, and the nettle. She often paused to look on the desolate spot, now so silent and forsaken, and when, with a trembling hand, she opened the door of the fishing-house, 'Ah!'said she, 'every thing - every thing remains as when I left it last - left it with those who never must return!'She went to a window, that overhung the rivulet, and, leaning over it, with her eyes fixed on the current, was soon lost in melancholy reverie. The lute she had brought lay forgotten beside her; the mournful sighing of the breeze, as it waved the high pines above, and its softer whispers among the osiers, that bowed upon the banks below, was a kind of music more in unison with her feelings. It did not vibrate on the chords of unhappy memory, but was soothing to the heart as the voice of Pity. She continued to muse, unconscious of the gloom of evening, and that the sun's last light trembled on the heights above, and would probably have remained so much longer, if a sudden footstep, without the building, had not alarmed her attention, and first made her recollect that she was unprotected. In the next moment, a door opened, and a stranger appeared, who stopped on perceiving Emily, and then began to apologize for his intrusion. But Emily, at the sound of his voice, lost her fear in a stronger emotion: its tones were familiar to her ear, and, though she could not readily distinguish through the dusk the features of the person who spoke, she felt a remembrance too strong to be distrusted.

Pt He repeated his apology, and Emily then said something in reply, when the stranger eagerly advancing, exclaimed, 'Good God! can it be - surely I am not mistaken - ma'amselle St. Aubert? - is it not?'

Pt 'It is indeed,'said Emily, who was confirmed in her first conjecture, for she now distinguished the countenance of Valancourt, lighted up with still more than its usual animation. A thousand painful recollections crowded to her mind, and the effort, which she made to support herself, only served to increase her agitation. Valancourt, meanwhile, having enquired anxiously after her health, and expressed his hopes, that M. St. Aubert had found benefit from travelling, learned from the flood of tears, which she could no longer repress, the fatal truth. He led her to a seat, and sat down by her, while Emily continued to weep, and Valancourt to hold the hand, which she was unconscious he had taken, till it was wet with the tears, which grief for St. Aubert and sympathy for herself had called forth.

Pt 'I feel,'said he at length, 'I feel how insufficient all attempt at consolation must be on this subject. I can only mourn with you, for I cannot doubt the source of your tears. Would to God I were mistaken!'

Versão em Português B1

1 - Capítulo I

2 - Capítulo 2

3 - Capítulo III

4 - Capítulo IV

5 - Capítulo 5

6 - Capítulo VI

7 - Capítulo VII

8 - Capítulo VIII

9 - Capítulo IX

Capítulo I

En O lar é o lugar do amor, da alegria, da paz e da fartura, onde amigos e familiares se apoiam e vivem felizes juntos.

En Em 1584, o castelo de Monsieur St. Aubert ficava nas margens agradáveis do rio Garonne, na Gasconha. De suas janelas, dava para ver o campo de Guienne e da Gasconha ao longo do rio, com bosques ricos, videiras e oliveiras. Ao sul, erguiam-se os grandes Pirineus, às vezes escondidos pelas nuvens e às vezes vistos em formas claras e nítidas. Em alguns momentos, pareciam nus e pálidos no ar, e em outros, florestas escuras de pinheiros cobriam suas encostas. Esses penhascos altos eram suavizados pelos campos verdes e bosques mais abaixo, com rebanhos, gado e casinhas simples. Ao norte e a leste, as planícies de Guienne e Languedoc desapareciam na neblina. A oeste, a Gasconha terminava nas águas da Biscaia.

En Monsieur St. Aubert gostava de caminhar com a esposa e a filha pelas margens do Garonne e ouvir a música que vinha da água. Ele já tinha conhecido o mundo além da vida tranquila do campo e tinha participado de círculos sociais animados e agitados. Mas a imagem bondosa que ele havia formado das pessoas em sua juventude mudou tristemente com a experiência. Ainda assim, suas crenças continuaram fortes e sua bondade não desapareceu. Ele deixou a multidão, mais por pena do que por raiva, em busca da paz da natureza, dos livros e da vida em família.

En Ele vinha de um ramo mais novo de uma família famosa. O plano era que sua falta de dinheiro fosse resolvida por um casamento rico ou por sucesso na política. Mas St. Aubert tinha honra demais para a segunda opção e ambição de menos para a primeira. Depois que o pai morreu, ele se casou com uma mulher muito gentil, de nascimento igual, mas não mais rica. A generosidade, ou o desperdício, de seu pai tinha deixado os negócios da família em dificuldades. Por isso ele vendeu parte das terras da família a Monsieur Quesnel, irmão de sua esposa. Depois se retirou para uma pequena propriedade na Gasconha. Ali ele aproveitou o casamento, a família, o conhecimento e o talento.

En Ele amava aquele lugar desde criança. Costumava visitá-lo quando era menino. O velho camponês gentil que cuidava do lugar lhe dava frutas e creme. Essas lembranças felizes nunca o abandonaram. Ele lembrava dos campos verdes onde corria como um jovem saudável e livre. Lembrava dos bosques onde sentiu pela primeira vez uma melancolia triste que mais tarde se tornou parte de seu caráter. Lembrava dos caminhos da montanha, do rio e das planícies distantes. Quando finalmente deixou o mundo, veio para cá para tornar seu sonho realidade.

En O prédio era apenas uma casa de verão. Era interessante para os estranhos por causa de sua beleza simples e da bela vista ao redor. St. Aubert tinha carinho por cada parte da casa desde a juventude. Ele não deixava tirar nem uma pedra do lugar. Assim, o novo prédio combinava com o estilo antigo, e juntos formavam um lar simples e elegante. O bom gosto de Madame St. Aubert aparecia por dentro. Os móveis e as decorações eram tão simples e puros quanto as pessoas que ali viviam.

En A biblioteca ficava do lado oeste do castelo. Tinha muitos bons livros em línguas antigas e modernas. A biblioteca dava para um bosque numa suave descida até o rio. Árvores altas criavam uma sombra triste, mas agradável. Das janelas, dava para ver a paisagem larga a oeste e os Pirineus à esquerda. Perto da biblioteca havia uma estufa com plantas raras e bonitas. St. Aubert amava a botânica. Ele passava dias inteiros nas montanhas próximas, estudando plantas. Às vezes sua esposa e sua filha iam com ele. Levavam uma cesta para as plantas e outra com comida. Caminhavam entre as paisagens mais bonitas e selvagens. Quando ficavam cansados de andar por penhascos íngremes, encontravam um lugar verde na montanha. Ali, debaixo de altos larícios ou cedros, comiam sua refeição simples. O riacho fresco e o cheiro das flores e ervas silvestres tornavam tudo ainda mais agradável.

En No lado leste da estufa, voltado para as planícies de Languedoc, havia um quarto que Emily chamava de seu. Nele estavam seus livros, desenhos, instrumentos musicais e alguns pássaros e plantas favoritos. Ali ela praticava suas artes elegantes. Ela aprendia porque amava aquilo. Com a ajuda dos pais, tornou-se habilidosa desde cedo. As janelas desse quarto eram muito bonitas. Iam até o chão e se abriam para um pequeno gramado ao redor da casa. Dali, o olhar seguia entre bosquetes de amêndoa, palmeiras, freixos floridos e murtas até a vista distante, onde o rio Garonne serpenteava.

En Nas noites, depois do trabalho do dia terminado, os camponeses daquela terra alegre eram vistos com frequência dançando em grupos perto do rio. Suas canções animadas, os passos fáceis, os padrões de dança divertidos e o jeito como as moças arrumavam suas roupas simples davam à cena um caráter bem francês.

En A frente do castelo ficava voltada para o sul, na direção das montanhas. No térreo, havia um salão simples e duas salas de estar agradáveis. No primeiro andar havia quartos e um cômodo que se abria para uma varanda. Esse cômodo era normalmente usado para o café da manhã.

En St. Aubert deixava as terras ao redor de sua casa muito bonitas. Mas ele amava coisas antigas de sua infância, então às vezes as mantinha mesmo que não fossem as mais bonitas. Havia dois larícios velhos que bloqueavam a vista, mas ele não quis cortá-los. Também plantou uma pequena floresta de faias, pinheiros e sorveiras. Em um terraço alto perto do rio, plantou laranjeiras, limoeiros e palmeiras. O cheiro das frutas era maravilhoso nas noites frescas. Havia também algumas outras árvores. Debaixo de um grande plátano perto do rio, St. Aubert gostava de sentar-se com a esposa e os filhos nas noites de verão. Eles observavam o pôr do sol e as sombras enquanto a noite chegava. Ele também adorava ler e conversar com a esposa, ou brincar com os filhos. Sentia-se muito feliz e não desejava mais nada. Sabia que estava agindo corretamente, e isso o deixava calmo e grato.

En Mesmo no crepúsculo mais profundo, St. Aubert ficava debaixo de seu plátano favorito. Ele amava a hora tranquila em que a última luz desaparece, as estrelas aparecem e a água as reflete. Esse momento o deixava pensativo e, às vezes, elevado. Quando o luar brilhava entre as folhas, ele ficava mais tempo e comia uma ceia simples de creme e frutas debaixo da árvore. Depois, na noite silenciosa, ouvia o canto do rouxinol, que trazia uma doce tristeza.

En Os primeiros acontecimentos tristes depois de sua aposentadoria foram as mortes de seus dois filhos. Eles morreram ainda jovens e encantadores. St. Aubert tentou esconder sua tristeza por causa da esposa, mas não conseguia ficar calmo diante de perdas assim. Restou apenas uma filha. Ele a viu crescer com amor e tentou ajudá-la a evitar a infelicidade. Ela era muito sensível e gentil, mas delicada demais para estar sempre em paz. Conforme crescia, sua sensibilidade a tornava pensativa e delicada, o que dava graça à sua beleza. Mas St. Aubert sabia que essa qualidade podia ser perigosa. Ele tentou fortalecer a mente dela e ensiná-la a controlar seus sentimentos. Às vezes lhe dava pequenas decepções para que ela aprendesse a pensar antes de reagir. Ensinou-a a ser calma e forte. Isso também era difícil para ele, pois precisava vê-la lutar sem mostrar seus próprios sentimentos.

En Emily se parecia com a mãe. Tinha a mesma bela silhueta, traços delicados e olhos azuis cheios de doçura. Mas seu rosto adorável ficava ainda mais encantador quando ela mostrava seus sentimentos na conversa.

En Aquelas cores mais suaves que se escondem de olhos descuidados, e desaparecem na companhia agitada e prejudicial do mundo.

En St. Aubert cuidava muito da educação de Emily. Ele lhe deu um amplo conhecimento de ciências e uma compreensão completa da boa literatura. Ensinou-lhe latim e inglês, principalmente para que ela pudesse ler a grandeza dos melhores poetas. Mesmo quando criança, ela amava obras de gênio. St. Aubert acreditava, e também sentia, que toda fonte inofensiva de felicidade deveria ser incentivada. Ele dizia com frequência: "Uma mente bem informada é a melhor proteção contra a tolice e o vício. Uma mente vazia está sempre buscando alívio e pronta para cometer erros só para escapar do tédio. Encha-a de ideias e ensine-a o prazer de pensar. Assim, as tentações de fora serão equilibradas pelos prazeres de dentro. O pensamento e o aprendizado são necessários tanto para a vida no campo quanto na cidade. No campo, eles nos ajudam a evitar o desconforto da preguiça e nos dão uma alegria profunda com a beleza e a grandeza. Na cidade, tornam a busca constante por prazer menos necessária, e por isso menos tentadora."

En Um dos primeiros prazeres de Emily era caminhar entre as paisagens da natureza. O que mais lhe agradava não era a paisagem suave e brilhante. Ela amava ainda mais as caminhadas selvagens pelos bosques ao lado da montanha. Acima de tudo, amava os grandes recantos escondidos da montanha. Ali, o silêncio e a grandeza da solidão enchiam seu coração de um temor sagrado. Eles elevavam seus pensamentos ao DEUS DO CÉU E DA TERRA. Nesses lugares, ela muitas vezes ficava, envolta em um encanto melancólico, até que o último brilho do dia desaparecesse a oeste. Então só um sino solitário de ovelha ou o latido distante de um cão de guarda quebrava a quietude da noite. A escuridão dos bosques, as folhas que tremiam de vez em quando na brisa, o morcego que esvoaçava no crepúsculo, e as luzes das casinhas que apareciam e desapareciam - tudo isso agitava sua mente e a levava ao entusiasmo e à poesia.

En Sua caminhada favorita era até uma pequena casa de pesca em um vale arborizado perto de um riacho. O riacho vinha dos Pirineus, formava espuma entre as pedras e depois corria calmamente por baixo das árvores. Acima dos bosques ficavam os picos altos dos Pirineus, às vezes vistos por entre as árvores. Ela conseguia ver uma face de rocha quebrada com arbustos selvagens, ou a cabana de um pastor num penhasco, sob ciprestes escuros ou freixos. Dos bosques profundos, a vista se abria para a paisagem distante. Ali, os campos ricos e as encostas cobertas de videiras da Gasconha desciam até as planícies. Nas margens sinuosas do rio Garonne havia bosques, vilarejos e casas de campo. Tudo parecia suave e se misturava em uma rica harmonia.

En Esse era também o refúgio favorito de St. Aubert. Ele costumava ir para lá no calor do dia com a esposa, a filha e seus livros. Também vinha ao entardecer suave para aproveitar o crepúsculo tranquilo ou escutar o canto do rouxinol. Às vezes trazia sua própria música e tocava seu oboé, despertando pequenos ecos com seu som terno. Muitas vezes a voz de Emily também dava doçura às ondas, flutuando sobre elas.

En Em uma dessas caminhadas até aquele lugar, ela notou estes versos escritos a lápis em parte dos painéis da parede:

En Vai, lápis, e sê fiel aos sentimentos do teu dono! Vai contar à deusa fada, quando ela voltar a caminhar por estes bosques verdes, de onde vêm todas as suas lágrimas e sua doce tristeza. Mostra o rosto dela, seus olhos brilhantes, seu olhar doce e pensativo, e seu sorriso rápido e vivo. A voz de um amante pode dizer tudo o que este coração sente e deseja falar. Mas nem tudo o que o coração sente é alegria. Quantas vezes pétalas macias de flores escondem um veneno capaz de roubar a vida! E quem, olhando aquele sorriso de anjo, temeria seu encanto ou pensaria que ele pudesse enganar?

En Esses versos não foram escritos para nenhuma pessoa em especial. Emily não conseguia pensar que fossem para ela, embora fosse sem dúvida a ninfa daquelas sombras. Ela olhou para os amigos, mas não sabia para quem os versos eram destinados. Ficou incerta. Mas não teve tempo de pensar sobre isso. A pequena excitação passou. Ela esqueceu o assunto entre seus livros, estudos e a ajuda aos outros.

En Pouco depois disso, Emily ficou preocupada quando seu pai adoeceu com febre. Não se pensava que fosse perigoso, mas isso o deixou muito enfraquecido. Madame St. Aubert e Emily cuidaram dele o tempo todo. Ainda assim, ele melhorou muito devagar. E, à medida que ele ficava mais forte, Madame St. Aubert parecia ficar mais fraca.

En Quando já estava bem o suficiente para sair, o primeiro lugar que visitou foi sua casa de pesca favorita. Comida foi enviada para lá, junto com livros e o alaúde de Emily. Ele não precisava de equipamentos de pesca, porque nunca gostou de machucar ou matar seres vivos por diversão.

En Depois de cerca de uma hora estudando plantas, eles jantaram. Estavam felizes por estar ali novamente. Monsieur St. Aubert conversava alegremente. Tudo parecia lindo. A alegria de ver a natureza depois de estar doente é difícil de descrever para quem tem saúde. Os bosques verdes, as flores, o céu, o ar, o riacho e os insetos tornam a vida maravilhosa.

En Madame St. Aubert se sentia melhor por ver o marido feliz e saudável. Ela caminhava com eles e os olhava com amor, chorando. St. Aubert percebeu isso e disse para ela não se emocionar tanto. Ela sorriu e chorou ainda mais. Ele ficou triste ao pensar que talvez um dia olhasse para trás, para aqueles tempos felizes, com pesar. Mas tentou não pensar nisso.

En Para mudar de humor, ele pediu que Emily tocasse o alaúde. Quando ela se aproximou da casa de pesca, ouviu música. Ficou escutando em silêncio, com medo de se mexer. Tudo estava quieto. Ela não via ninguém. Sentiu-se surpresa, depois encantada, depois assustada, porque se lembrou dos versos escritos que tinha visto antes. Não sabia se devia seguir em frente ou voltar.

En Enquanto esperava, a música parou. Ela entrou devagar na casa de pesca e a encontrou vazia. Seu alaúde estava sobre a mesa. Ela pensou ter ouvido outro instrumento, mas lembrou que tinha deixado seu alaúde no banco da janela. Sentiu medo. O entardecer e o silêncio a deixaram ainda mais assustada. Ela quis ir embora, mas se sentiu fraca. Sentou-se. Viu de novo os versos na parede e ficou chocada. Tentou se acalmar e foi até a janela. Viu mais versos com o seu nome.

En Agora ela já não duvidava que os versos eram para ela, mas ainda não sabia quem os tinha escrito. Enquanto pensava nisso, achou que tinha ouvido passos lá fora. Assustada de novo, pegou o alaúde e saiu depressa. Encontrou Monsieur e Madame St. Aubert em um caminho estreito na lateral do vale.

En Eles chegaram ao topo verde de uma colina, sombreado por palmeiras, com vista para os vales e as planícies da Gasconha. Sentaram-se na grama e contemplaram a bela paisagem, respirando o doce perfume das flores e ervas que cresciam no gramado. Emily então tocou e cantou várias de suas canções favoritas, com o sentimento suave e cuidadoso no qual era tão habilidosa.

En A música e a conversa os mantiveram naquele lugar encantador até que a última luz do sol repousasse sobre as planícies. As velas brancas abaixo das montanhas, no Garonne, foram ficando fracas, e as sombras da noite cobriram a terra. A cena era triste, mas ainda assim agradável. St. Aubert e sua família se levantaram e partiram com pesar. Tristemente, Madame St. Aubert não sabia que estava deixando aquele lugar para sempre.

En Quando chegaram à casa de pesca, ela percebeu que sua pulseira estava faltando. Lembrou-se de tê-la tirado depois do jantar e deixado sobre a mesa. Procuraram por muito tempo, e Emily ajudou bastante, mas por fim ela aceitou que estava perdida. A pulseira era valiosa porque tinha um pequeno retrato de sua filha, muito parecido com ela, pintado alguns meses antes. Quando Emily teve certeza de que a pulseira tinha sumido, corou e ficou pensativa. Ela já tinha percebido que alguém estivera na casa de pesca durante sua ausência, porque seu alaúde e alguns versos a lápis estavam ali. Os versos sugeriam que a mesma pessoa tinha escrito o poema, tocado a música e levado a pulseira. Embora todos esses acontecimentos fossem muito estranhos, ela não quis falar sobre eles. Decidiu que nunca mais iria à casa de pesca sem os pais.

En Voltaram pensativos ao castelo. Emily pensava no que tinha acontecido. St. Aubert se sentia grato por suas bênçãos. Madame St. Aubert estava chateada por ter perdido o retrato. Ao se aproximarem da casa, viram muita movimentação. Ouviram vozes, viram criados e cavalos, e depois uma carruagem. Um landau com cavalos cansados estava no gramado. St. Aubert reconheceu os criados de seu cunhado. Na sala, encontraram Monsieur e Madame Quesnel já ali. Eles tinham saído de Paris havia poucos dias e iam para sua propriedade, que ficava a apenas dez léguas de La Vallée. Monsieur Quesnel tinha comprado aquelas terras de St. Aubert. Ele era o único irmão de Madame St. Aubert, mas não eram próximos, pois tinham personalidades muito diferentes. M. Quesnel gostava da vida social e queria ser importante. Ele achava St. Aubert fraco e de mente estreita. Tinha desejado que a irmã se casasse com alguém rico e importante que pudesse ajudá-lo. Mas a irmã se casou com St. Aubert. Monsieur Quesnel deixava claro que não respeitava esse casamento. Madame St. Aubert sentia raiva, mas escondia, e depois disso sempre foi um pouco fria com ele.

En Em seu próprio casamento, ele não seguiu o exemplo da irmã. Sua esposa era uma herdeira italiana, e, por natureza e educação, era vaidosa e tola.

En Decidiram passar a noite na casa de St. Aubert. O castelo não era grande o bastante para todos os criados, então eles foram enviados a um vilarejo próximo. Depois de se cumprimentarem e fazer planos para a noite, Monsieur Quesnel começou a falar sobre seus conhecimentos e amigos importantes. St. Aubert escutava educadamente, e Quesnel achava que o tinha impressionado. Quesnel descreveu as festas na corte de Henrique III e depois falou sobre o Duque de Joyeuse e um tratado secreto. Mas St. Aubert sabia, por experiência própria, que Quesnel não era de fato um político tão importante. Ele não respondeu, porque sabia que Quesnel não era gentil nem sábio.

En Enquanto isso, Madame Quesnel dizia a Madame St. Aubert como estava surpresa por ela conseguir viver em um lugar tão distante. Descreveu os belos bailes e festas na corte pelo casamento do Duque de Joyeuse. Emily escutava com grande curiosidade, e sua imaginação tornava as cenas ainda mais maravilhosas. Mas Madame St. Aubert sentiu uma lágrima surgir em seus olhos e pensou que, embora o luxo possa tornar a felicidade mais agradável, só a bondade pode realmente trazer felicidade.

En "Já faz doze anos que comprei as terras da sua família", disse Monsieur Quesnel. "Mais ou menos isso", respondeu St. Aubert com um suspiro discreto. "Não vou lá há quase cinco anos", disse Quesnel. "Paris é o único lugar para se viver. Estou muito ocupado com política e assuntos importantes, então é difícil para mim me afastar mesmo por um mês ou dois." St. Aubert ficou calado. Quesnel continuou: "Muitas vezes me pergunto como você, que já viveu em Paris e conviveu com pessoas, consegue viver num lugar tão distante. Você não vê nem ouve nada. Mal consegue se sentir vivo."

En "Eu vivo para minha família e para mim mesmo", disse St. Aubert. "Agora me contento em conhecer a felicidade. No passado, eu conheci a vida."

En "Pretendo gastar trinta ou quarenta mil libras em reformas", disse Monsieur Quesnel, ignorando as palavras de St. Aubert. "No próximo verão quero trazer meus amigos, o Duque de Durefort e o Marquês Ramont, para ficarem comigo por um mês ou dois." Quando St. Aubert perguntou sobre as reformas, Quesnel disse que iria derrubar a ala leste e construir estábulos ali. Depois construiria uma sala de jantar, uma sala de estar, um salão comum e muitos quartos para os criados. "No momento não há espaço nem para um terço do meu pessoal."

En "Ela abrigava a casa de nosso pai", disse St. Aubert com tristeza, "e essa não era pequena."

En "Nossas ideias cresceram desde aquela época", disse M. Quesnel. "O que antes se chamava de um jeito adequado de viver não seria mais aceito hoje." Até o calmo St. Aubert corou com isso, mas sua raiva logo se transformou em desdém. "O terreno ao redor do castelo está cheio de árvores demais. Pretendo cortar algumas."

En "Cortar as árvores também!" disse St. Aubert.

En "Claro. Por que não? Elas bloqueiam minha vista. Há um castanheiro que espalha seus galhos por todo o lado sul do castelo. É tão velho que dizem que seu tronco oco pode abrigar uma dúzia de homens. Seu amor por coisas antigas dificilmente vai defender que essa árvore velha e seca tenha alguma utilidade ou beleza."

En "Meu Deus!" exclamou St. Aubert. "Certamente você não vai destruir esse nobre castanheiro! Ele floresce há séculos e é a glória da propriedade. Já estava totalmente crescido quando a mansão atual foi construída. Na minha juventude, quantas vezes subi entre seus galhos largos! Eu ficava escondido em um mundo de folhas enquanto a chuva forte batia lá em cima, e nenhuma gota me atingia. Quantas vezes fiquei ali sentado com um livro na mão. Às vezes lia, e às vezes olhava por entre os galhos para a paisagem larga e o pôr do sol. Ficava até o crepúsculo chegar e trazer os pássaros de volta a seus ninhinhos entre as folhas. Quantas vezes... mas me perdoe", acrescentou St. Aubert, lembrando que falava com um homem que não conseguia entender nem aceitar seus sentimentos. "Estou falando de tempos e sentimentos tão antiquados quanto o gosto que pouparia essa árvore venerável."

En "Ela certamente vai cair", disse M. Quesnel. "Acho que vou plantar choupos-da-lombardia entre as castanheiras que deixarei na alameda. Madame Quesnel gosta muito do choupo e diz que ele deixa a vila de seu tio perto de Veneza muito bonita."

En "Nas margens do Brenta, de fato", continuou St. Aubert, "sua forma alta e pontuda se mistura com o pinheiro e o cipreste. Ali ele se destaca sobre pórticos e colunatas leves e elegantes, e certamente enfeita a paisagem. Mas entre os gigantes da floresta, e perto de uma pesada mansão gótica..."

En "Bem, meu caro senhor", disse M. Quesnel, "não vou discutir com você. Você precisaria voltar a Paris para que nossas ideias pudessem concordar em algo. Mas falando em Veneza, estou pensando em ir para lá no próximo verão. Os acontecimentos podem me levar a tomar posse dessa mesma vila, que dizem ser a mais encantadora que se possa imaginar. Nesse caso, vou deixar as reformas que mencionei para outro ano, e posso ficar tentado a passar um tempo na Itália."

En Emily ficou um pouco surpresa ao ouvi-lo falar em ficar tentado a se demorar no exterior. Antes ele tinha dito que sua presença em Paris era tão necessária que mal conseguia se afastar por um mês ou dois. Mas St. Aubert conhecia bem demais a vaidade daquele homem para se surpreender com essa característica. E a chance de que essas reformas planejadas fossem adiadas lhe dava esperança de que talvez nunca acontecessem.

En Antes de se separarem para dormir, M. Quesnel pediu para falar com St. Aubert a sós. Foram para outra sala e ficaram lá por muito tempo. Ninguém sabia sobre o que conversaram. Mas quando St. Aubert voltou para a sala de jantar, parecia muito perturbado. Uma sombra de tristeza às vezes passava por seu rosto e alarmava Madame St. Aubert. Quando ficaram a sós, ela ficou tentada a perguntar o motivo. Mas uma delicadeza de espírito, como sempre se via em seu comportamento, a conteve. Ela pensou que, se St. Aubert quisesse que ela soubesse de seu problema, não esperaria que ela perguntasse.

En No dia seguinte, antes de M. Quesnel partir, ele falou com St. Aubert uma segunda vez.

En Depois de jantar no castelo, os convidados partiram no frescor do dia para Epourville. Insistiram para que St. Aubert e Madame St. Aubert os visitassem, mas isso vinha mais do orgulho por suas riquezas e coisas finas do que de uma bondade verdadeira.

En Emily ficou feliz em voltar à sua liberdade depois que a visita terminou. Ela retomou seus livros, suas caminhadas e as conversas sábias de M. e Madame St. Aubert. Eles também se sentiram aliviados por estarem livres das restrições que o orgulho e a tolice tinham imposto a eles.

En Madame St. Aubert disse que não estava se sentindo bem e não foi na caminhada noturna de costume. Então St. Aubert e Emily saíram juntos.

En Caminharam em direção às montanhas, com o plano de visitar alguns velhos pensionistas que St. Aubert sustentava com sua pequena renda. É provável que M. Quesnel, com muito mais dinheiro, não faria o mesmo.

En St. Aubert entregou aos seus pensionistas o dinheiro da semana. Ouviu com paciência algumas reclamações, ajudou a resolver outros problemas e acalmou a todos com seu rosto gentil e sorriso suave. Depois voltou para casa pelo bosque.

En À noite, muitas fadas vêm aos bosques para brincar e dançar durante a noite de verão, como dizem as histórias do vilarejo.

En St. Aubert disse: 'Sempre amei a escuridão da noite nos bosques. Quando eu era jovem, isso me fazia imaginar fadas e cenas românticas. Mesmo agora, sinto essa animação. Consigo caminhar devagar por baixo das árvores, olhar para a escuridão e escutar os sons estranhos do bosque.'

En Emily disse: 'Querido pai, o senhor descreve exatamente o que eu sinto muitas vezes. Eu achava que ninguém mais sentia isso. Escute! Há um som acima das árvores. Agora está quieto. Agora o vento sopra de novo. Parece um ser sobrenatural - o espírito do bosque. Olhe! Uma luz aparece perto daquele castanheiro!' Ela apontou.

En St. Aubert disse: 'Você ama a natureza, mas não conhece um vaga-lume? Venha, vamos caminhar mais um pouco. Talvez vejamos fadas. O vaga-lume dá a luz, e as fadas dançam e tocam música. Você vê alguma coisa se movendo ali?'

En Emily riu. Ela disse: 'Bem, já que o senhor admite essas coisas, posso lhe contar que escrevi alguns poemas nestes bosques. Quase tenho coragem de mostrá-los.'

En 'Não', respondeu St. Aubert. 'Deixe de lado o quase, e prossiga com coragem. Vamos ouvir que ideias estranhas passaram pela sua cabeça. Se ela lhe deu um de seus encantamentos, você não precisa invejar as fadas.'

En 'Se for forte o bastante para encantar o julgamento do senhor', disse Emily, 'então, enquanto explico suas imagens, não preciso invejá-las. Os versos se movem em um ritmo leve e dançante, que achei adequado ao tema, mas temo que sejam muito irregulares.'

En O vaga-lume fala: 'Como é agradável a floresta verde numa noite de verão depois da chuva! Mas ainda mais doce quando o sol se põe e o crepúsculo chega com as fadas dançando pelos bosques. Elas dançam ao som de uma música suave até a lua aparecer e guiá-las a um caramanchão onde um rouxinol canta tristemente. Então param de dançar e escutam seu canto. Juram proteger os lugares dela dos humanos. Quando a estrela da noite se põe e a lua muda, as fadas ficariam sem alegria sem a minha luz pálida. Ainda assim, elas são ingratas! Muitas vezes, quando um viajante se perde à noite, tento guiá-lo, mas as fadas usam magia para desviá-lo do caminho e deixá-lo na lama. Fico com medo e me escondo. Mas então vejo os elfos dançando em roda ao som de música. Dois amantes fogem escondidos para escapar da rainha das fadas, que está com ciúmes porque os ajudei ontem. Para me punir, ela para a música e a dança se eu me aproximo. Se eu tivesse a flor roxa que pode quebrar seus feitiços, eu não seria mais sua escrava. Mas logo o vapor da floresta vai vagar, a lua vai desaparecer, e as fadas ficarão sem alegria sem a minha luz.'

En Fosse o que fosse que St. Aubert pensasse dos versos, ele não iria estragar o prazer da filha se recusando a parecer satisfeito. Depois de elogiá-los, ele ficou pensativo, e eles seguiram caminhando em silêncio.

En Uma luz fraca e imperfeita dava uma imagem parcial aos olhos que se esforçavam para ver. Bosques, vilarejos, riachos, rochas e topos de montanhas que ainda guardavam a luz pareciam formar uma única cena tremeluzente, sem certeza se realmente estavam sendo vistos.

En St. Aubert continuou calado até chegar ao castelo, onde sua esposa tinha ido para o quarto. A fraqueza e a tristeza que a incomodavam recentemente voltaram ainda mais fortes no dia seguinte. Ela desenvolveu febre, e o médico disse que era a mesma febre da qual St. Aubert tinha acabado de se recuperar. Ela tinha pegado a doença ao cuidar dele. Seu corpo estava fraco demais para combatê-la, então a doença ficou escondida e causou o cansaço que ela sentia. St. Aubert ficou muito preocupado e manteve o médico na casa. Ele se lembrou de um sentimento triste que tivera na última vez que visitara a casa de pesca com a esposa, e agora sentia que aquela doença seria fatal. Mas escondeu isso dela e de sua filha, Emily. Tentou lhe dar esperança. O médico disse que não podia ter certeza do que aconteceria. Madame St. Aubert parecia saber que ia morrer. Ela olhava muitas vezes para a família com pena e ternura, como se lamentasse a tristeza que esperava por eles. No sétimo dia, ela chegou à crise. O rosto do médico ficou sério. Ela lhe disse: 'Não tente me enganar. Sinto que vou morrer em breve. Estou preparada para isso. Não dê à minha família uma falsa esperança. Isso só vai piorar a dor deles. Vou tentar ensiná-los a aceitar isso com o meu exemplo.'

En O médico se comoveu. Prometeu obedecê-la e disse a St. Aubert, de forma bastante abrupta, que não havia mais esperança. St. Aubert não era filósofo o bastante para esconder seus sentimentos diante dessa notícia. Mas pensou que sua dor visível só aumentaria o sofrimento da esposa. Assim, depois de algum tempo, conseguiu se controlar na presença dela. Emily ficou a princípio dominada pela notícia. Depois, enganada pela força de seus próprios desejos, uma esperança surgiu em sua mente de que a mãe ainda poderia se recuperar. Ela se apegou a essa esperança teimosamente, quase até a última hora.

En Durante a doença, Madame St. Aubert sofreu com paciência e aceitou que seus desejos não se realizariam. Ela estava em paz com a morte, porque tinha vivido uma vida consciente da presença de Deus e tinha esperança de um mundo melhor. Mas ainda assim ficava triste por deixar as pessoas que amava. Em suas últimas horas, conversou com o marido e com Emily sobre o futuro e a religião. Mostrou aceitação e esperança de que se encontrariam novamente. Às vezes tentava esconder sua tristeza, e isso deixava St. Aubert tão abalado que precisava sair do quarto. Ele chorava por um tempo, depois secava as lágrimas e voltava com um rosto calmo que só tornava sua tristeza mais profunda.

En Emily nunca tinha sentido de forma tão forte a importância de controlar suas emoções, e conseguiu fazer isso completamente. Mas quando a mãe morreu, ela sentiu de repente toda a sua tristeza e percebeu que tinham sido a esperança e a força que a mantiveram firme. St. Aubert estava triste demais para consolá-la.

Capítulo 2

En Madame St. Aubert foi enterrada na igreja de um vilarejo próximo. O marido e a filha a acompanharam até o túmulo, junto com uma longa fileira de moradores do vilarejo que sinceramente choravam por aquela boa mulher.

En Depois de voltar do funeral, St. Aubert se trancou no quarto. Quando saiu, parecia calmo, embora estivesse pálido de tristeza. Pediu que a família fosse até ele. Emily estava faltando, pois tinha ido para o quarto chorar sozinha depois da cena triste que tinha presenciado. St. Aubert foi até ela, segurou sua mão em silêncio e esperou até conseguir falar. Sua voz tremia quando disse: 'Minha Emily, vou rezar com minha família; você vai se juntar a nós. Precisamos pedir apoio lá do alto. Onde mais devemos procurá-lo... onde mais podemos encontrá-lo?'

En Emily parou de chorar e seguiu o pai até a sala. Os criados estavam ali, e St. Aubert leu o ofício da noite em voz baixa e séria. Também disse uma oração pela pessoa falecida. Enquanto lia, sua voz falhava muitas vezes, e lágrimas caíam sobre o livro. Por fim, ele parou. Mas sua devoção profunda e pura foi aos poucos elevando seus pensamentos acima deste mundo e trouxe conforto ao seu coração.

En Depois do ofício, os criados saíram. St. Aubert beijou Emily com ternura e disse: 'Desde que você era pequena, tentei lhe ensinar a se controlar. Isso é muito importante na vida. Nos protege de más tentações. Também limita prazeres que parecem bons, mas se tornam ruins se exagerarmos. Todo excesso é ruim. Até a tristeza que começa como algo bom pode se tornar egoísta se nos impede de cumprir nossos deveres. Nossos deveres são o que devemos a nós mesmos e aos outros. Uma dor excessiva enfraquece a mente. Torna difícil aproveitar os prazeres simples que Deus nos deu. Lembre-se e pratique o que lhe ensinei. Você sabe, por experiência própria, que essas lições são sábias.'

En 'Sua tristeza é inútil. Não pense que isso é apenas um ditado comum. Use a razão para controlar sua dor. Eu não quero destruir seus sentimentos, minha filha. Só quero lhe ensinar a controlá-los. Um coração sensível demais pode causar problemas, mas um coração que não sente nada é completamente ruim. Você sabe que eu já sofri, então sabe que não estou dizendo palavras vazias. Não suporto ver você definhar em uma tristeza inútil. Houve um tempo em que o luto natural era certo, mas esse tempo já passou. Se você continuar cedendo à tristeza, ela se tornará um hábito muito difícil de quebrar. Você, minha Emily, vai mostrar que está disposta a evitar isso.'

En Emily sorriu para o pai por entre as lágrimas. 'Querido pai', disse ela, com a voz trêmula. Ela quis acrescentar: 'Vou me mostrar digna de ser sua filha', mas gratidão, amor e tristeza a invadiram todos de uma vez. St. Aubert a deixou chorar sem interrompê-la, e depois começou a falar sobre assuntos do dia a dia.

En A primeira pessoa a ir consolar St. Aubert foi M. Barreaux, um homem severo que parecia frio e insensível. Eles tinham se conhecido porque ambos gostavam de botânica, e se encontravam com frequência em caminhadas pelas montanhas. M. Barreaux tinha deixado a vida pública e quase todo o convívio social para viver em um castelo agradável perto dos bosques, próximo de La Vallée. Ele também tinha se decepcionado com as pessoas, mas, diferente de St. Aubert, não sentia pena nem tristeza por elas. Sentia mais raiva das más ações delas do que bondade por suas fraquezas.

En St. Aubert ficou surpreso ao vê-lo. Ele o tinha convidado muitas vezes para visitá-lo, mas ele nunca vinha. Agora chegava sem formalidades, entrando na sala como um velho amigo. Parecia que o sofrimento tinha suavizado sua natureza áspera. Ele pensava apenas na infelicidade de St. Aubert. Mostrava sua compaixão mais por meio de ações do que de palavras. Não falava muito sobre o luto deles, mas sua atenção cuidadosa, sua voz gentil e seu olhar bondoso vinham do coração e tocavam o coração deles.

En Durante esse período triste, St. Aubert também recebeu a visita de Madame Cheron, sua única irmã viva. Ela era viúva havia muitos anos e vivia em suas próprias terras perto de Tholouse. Eles não se viam com frequência. Ao oferecer suas condolências, ela usou muitas palavras. Não entendia o poder de um olhar ou de uma voz gentil. Mas disse a St. Aubert que sentia verdadeiramente por ele, elogiou sua falecida esposa e depois ofereceu o que achava ser consolo. Emily chorou o tempo todo enquanto ela falava. St. Aubert ficou calmo, escutou em silêncio e depois mudou de assunto.

En Ao partir, ela pediu que ele e Emily a visitassem em breve. Disse: 'Uma mudança de ares vai animá-los. Vocês não devem ceder à tristeza.' St. Aubert concordou com as palavras dela, mas sentia ainda menos vontade de deixar o lugar onde tinha sido feliz com a esposa. A presença dela tinha tornado cada cena especial. A cada dia, à medida que sua dor diminuía devagar, seu amor pelo lar crescia mais forte.

En Mas havia visitas que ele precisava fazer. Uma delas era ao cunhado, M. Quesnel. Algo importante tornava necessário ir logo. Ele também queria ajudar Emily a se sentir melhor, então a levou consigo até Epourville.

En Quando a carruagem entrou na floresta ao lado das terras de sua família, ele viu o castelo novamente. Ficou triste ao pensar no que tinha acontecido desde a última vez que estivera ali. Agora pertencia a um homem que não se importava com o lugar. Ele entrou na alameda de árvores que o tinham deixado feliz quando menino. A sombra escura agora combinava com seus sentimentos tristes. Ele conseguia ver partes do prédio entre as árvores: a torre larga, o portão em arco para os pátios, a ponte levadiça e o fosso seco ao redor.

En O barulho da carruagem trouxe muitos criados até o grande portão. Ali St. Aubert desceu e levou Emily para o salão gótico. Ele já não estava decorado com o brasão da família e as antigas bandeiras. Elas tinham sido retiradas, e as paredes de carvalho e as vigas do teto foram pintadas de branco. A longa mesa que antes ficava na parte superior do salão tinha desaparecido, assim como os bancos. As paredes estavam cobertas de decorações chamativas, e tudo mostrava o mau gosto e os valores questionáveis do atual dono.

En St. Aubert seguiu um criado parisiense animado até uma sala de estar, onde Mons. e Madame Quesnel esperavam. Eles o receberam com uma cortesia formal. Depois de algumas palavras de condolência, pareciam ter esquecido que um dia tiveram uma irmã.

En Emily sentiu lágrimas surgirem em seus olhos, mas a raiva as conteve. St. Aubert permaneceu calmo e cuidadoso. Ele manteve sua dignidade sem tentar parecer importante, e Quesnel se sentia incomodado em sua presença, embora não soubesse por quê.

En Depois de uma conversa geral, St. Aubert pediu para falar com ele a sós. Emily ficou com Madame Quesnel e logo soube que um grande grupo estava convidado para jantar no castelo. Também teve que ouvir a afirmação de que nada do passado, e que não pode ser mudado, deveria estragar a alegria da noite presente.

En Quando St. Aubert soube da festa, sentiu raiva e repugnância. Quis ir para casa. Mas lhe disseram que Madame Cheron tinha sido convidada para vê-lo. Ele olhou para Emily e pensou que um dia o tio dela poderia prejudicá-la. Então decidiu não irritá-lo indo embora.

En Entre os convidados do jantar estavam dois cavalheiros italianos. Um deles era Montoni, um parente distante de Madame Quesnel. Ele tinha cerca de quarenta anos, era muito bonito e tinha traços fortes e expressivos. Seu rosto mostrava, acima de tudo, o orgulho de um comandante e a mente rápida de um homem que julga as coisas depressa.

En Signor Cavigni, seu amigo, parecia ter cerca de trinta anos. Era menos imponente que Montoni, mas seu rosto era igualmente perspicaz, e seu jeito era ainda mais suave e charmoso.

En Emily ficou chocada com o jeito que Madame Cheron cumprimentou seu pai: 'Querido irmão', disse ela. 'Lamento ver que você parece tão doente. Por favor, procure um conselho médico!' St. Aubert respondeu com um sorriso triste que se sentia mais ou menos como sempre. Mas o medo de Emily agora a fazia pensar que o pai parecia pior do que realmente estava.

En Emily poderia ter gostado das pessoas novas que viu e da conversa animada durante o jantar, servido com grande esplendor, se não estivesse tão perturbada. Signor Montoni tinha acabado de chegar da Itália. Ele falou com veemência sobre a agitação por lá, discutiu com paixão as diferenças políticas e depois falou com tristeza sobre os prováveis resultados dos conflitos. Seu amigo também falou com paixão sobre política. Elogiou o governo e a riqueza de Veneza e disse que ela era melhor do que todos os outros estados italianos. Depois se voltou para as damas e falou com igual habilidade sobre a moda de Paris, a ópera francesa e os costumes franceses. Também misturou o tipo de elogio bajulador que o gosto francês mais aprecia. As mulheres não perceberam, embora ele visse que isso as fazia escutar com atenção. Quando conseguia se afastar das outras damas, às vezes falava com Emily. Mas ela não sabia nada sobre a moda de Paris ou sobre ópera, e seus modos modestos, simples e corretos eram muito diferentes dos das outras mulheres.

En Depois do jantar, St. Aubert saiu da sala para olhar novamente o velho castanheiro que Quesnel queria cortar. Ficou parado em sua sombra e olhou para cima, através de seus galhos frondosos, onde pedaços de céu azul apareciam entre eles. Enquanto fazia isso, lembranças de sua vida passada voltaram à sua mente. Pensou em amigos que já tinham morrido há muito tempo. Agora se sentia quase sozinho no mundo, com apenas Emily para quem podia voltar seu coração.

En Ele ficou ali, perdido em pensamentos sobre anos passados, até que a lembrança terminou com a imagem de sua esposa morrendo. Então se afastou depressa, esperando esquecer aquilo à mesa do jantar.

En St. Aubert partiu cedo em sua carruagem, e Emily percebeu que ele estava mais calado e triste do que o normal no caminho de volta para casa. Ela pensou que isso era apenas por causa da visita a um lugar que trazia lembranças antigas. Ela não sabia que ele tinha uma tristeza escondida.

En Quando ela entrou no castelo, sentiu-se ainda mais infeliz. Sentia falta de sua querida mãe mais do que nunca. Quando voltava para casa antes, a mãe sempre a recebia com sorrisos e amor. Agora tudo estava quieto e vazio.

En Mas o tempo pode fazer o que a razão e o esforço não conseguem. Semana após semana se passou, e cada uma diminuía um pouco sua dor, até que ela se tornou a tristeza suave que um coração amoroso guarda como algo sagrado. St. Aubert, porém, foi ficando mais fraco de saúde. Emily, que estava sempre com ele, foi quase a última a perceber isso. O corpo dele nunca tinha se recuperado totalmente da febre, e o choque da morte de Madame St. Aubert o tinha deixado pior. Agora o médico lhe disse para viajar, porque o luto tinha afetado seus nervos, já enfraquecidos pela doença. Uma mudança de cenário poderia ajudar, distraindo sua mente e restaurando suas forças.

En Por alguns dias, Emily ficou ocupada se preparando para viajar com ele. St. Aubert também tentou reduzir o custo da viagem e, por fim, decidiu dispensar os criados. Emily normalmente não questionava os desejos do pai, senão teria perguntado por que ele não levaria nenhum criado, já que sua saúde fraca tornava isso quase necessário. Mas na noite antes de partirem, ela descobriu que ele tinha mandado embora Jacques, Francis e Mary, e tinha mantido apenas Theresa, a velha governanta. Ela ficou muito surpresa e perguntou por que ele tinha feito isso. 'Para economizar dinheiro, minha querida', disse ele. 'Vamos fazer uma viagem cara.'

En O médico tinha dito para ele viajar pelos ares de Languedoc e da Provença. Então St. Aubert decidiu seguir devagar pela costa do Mediterrâneo em direção à Provença.

En Foram dormir cedo na noite anterior à partida. Mas Emily ainda tinha alguns livros e outras coisas para arrumar, e já passava da meia-noite quando ela terminou. Então se lembrou de que alguns de seus materiais de desenho, que pretendia levar, estavam lá embaixo, na sala. Ao ir buscá-los, passou pelo quarto do pai. A porta estava entreaberta, então ela pensou que ele estivesse em seu escritório. Desde a morte de Madame St. Aubert, tinha sido comum ele deixar a cama agitada e ir para lá para acalmar a mente. Emily olhou lá embaixo, mas ele não estava. Quando voltou ao seu quarto, bateu na porta dele. Sem obter resposta, entrou devagar para ver se ele estava lá dentro.

En O quarto estava escuro, mas um pouco de luz passava pelos vidros na parte superior da porta de um closet. Emily pensou que o pai devia estar no closet. Ficou surpresa por ele estar acordado tão tarde e achou que ele pudesse estar doente. Ela quis perguntar, mas não quis assustá-lo aparecendo de repente. Então deixou sua luz na escada e foi devagar até o closet. Olhando pelo vidro, ela o viu sentado a uma mesinha, com papéis à sua frente. Ele os lia com muito cuidado e chorava e soluçava em voz alta com frequência. Emily tinha ido verificar se ele estava doente, mas agora ficou ali, curiosa e ao mesmo tempo comovida. Ela pensou que os papéis pudessem ser cartas de sua mãe falecida. Logo ele se ajoelhou e rezou em silêncio por muito tempo. Seu rosto parecia solene, e Emily raramente o tinha visto com uma expressão tão intensa e assustada.

En Quando ele se levantou, seu rosto estava muito pálido. Emily estava prestes a sair depressa, mas então o viu voltar aos papéis, então parou. Ele pegou um pequeno estojo entre eles e, de dentro dele, um retrato em miniatura. A luz caiu sobre ele, e ela viu que era o retrato de uma dama, mas não de sua mãe.

En St. Aubert olhou para o retrato com grande emoção. Ele o beijou, depois o apertou contra o peito e suspirou fundo. Emily mal podia acreditar no que via. Até aquele momento, ela nunca soubera que ele tinha o retrato de outra mulher além de sua mãe. Ficou ainda mais surpresa ao ver o quanto ele valorizava aquele retrato. Depois de olhar para ele várias vezes, para ter certeza de que não era Madame St. Aubert, ela ficou totalmente certa de que era o retrato de outra pessoa.

En Por fim, St. Aubert guardou o retrato de volta na caixa. Emily então se lembrou de que estava perturbando a dor íntima dele, então saiu do quarto em silêncio.

Capítulo III

En Como você pode abrir mão do tesouro infinito de encantos que a natureza oferece a quem a ama? Pense na floresta que canta e na praia que ecoa. Pense no esplendor dos bosques e na beleza dos campos. Pense em tudo que o raio da manhã ilumina, e em tudo que responde ao canto da noite. Pense em tudo que a montanha guarda em seu peito, e em toda a grandiosa magnificência do céu. Como você pode abrir mão disso tudo e ainda esperar ser perdoado? Esses encantos trarão saúde eterna à sua alma. Eles lhe darão amor, doçura e alegria. O MENESTREL

En St. Aubert não seguiu o caminho mais curto pela base dos Pireneus até Languedoc. Em vez disso, escolheu uma estrada que subia pelas alturas e oferecia vistas mais amplas e uma paisagem de montanha mais bonita. Ele também se desviou um pouco do caminho para visitar M. Barreaux. Encontrou-o no bosque perto de seu castelo, observando plantas. Quando M. Barreaux ouviu o motivo da visita de St. Aubert, mostrou mais preocupação do que St. Aubert esperava. Eles se despediram com verdadeira tristeza.

En "Se alguma coisa pudesse me fazer deixar minha vida tranquila", disse M. Barreaux, "seria o prazer de acompanhá-lo nesta pequena viagem. Eu não costumo elogiar as pessoas, então pode acreditar em mim quando digo que esperarei sua volta com grande impaciência."

En Os viajantes continuaram sua jornada. Enquanto subiam as alturas, St. Aubert olhava várias vezes para trás, para o castelo no vale abaixo. Muitas lembranças ternas encheram sua mente. Em sua imaginação triste, ele pensou que talvez nunca mais voltasse. Tentou afastar esse pensamento, mas continuou olhando para trás, até que a distância ficou embaçada e sua casa se misturou com toda a paisagem, e St. Aubert parecia

En ser puxado cada vez mais para longe a cada passo, como uma corrente que ia ficando cada vez mais comprida.

En Ele e Emily ficaram perdidos em pensamentos silenciosos por vários quilômetros. Emily foi a primeira a despertar de seu triste devaneio, e as vistas grandiosas ao redor aos poucos lhe trouxeram prazer. A estrada descia por vales profundos, fechados por enormes paredes de rocha, cinzentas e nuas, exceto por arbustos no topo e plantas rasteiras nas partes mais baixas, onde cabras selvagens costumavam se alimentar. Depois a estrada levava a penhascos altos, de onde se podia ver toda a paisagem em sua grandeza.

En Emily não conseguia conter sua alegria ao olhar das florestas de pinheiros nas montanhas para as vastas planícies abaixo. Havia bosques, cidades, vinhedos avermelhados e plantações de amêndoas, palmeiras e oliveiras. Suas cores se misturavam ao longe em um único tom suave, como se a terra e o céu estivessem unidos. Através dessa paisagem maravilhosa corria o grande rio Garonne, descendo dos Pireneus e serpenteando suas águas azuis em direção à Baía de Biscaia.

En A estrada acidentada, usada por pouca gente, obrigava com frequência os viajantes a descer de sua pequena carruagem. Mas eles sentiam que as vistas grandiosas compensavam totalmente esse incômodo. Enquanto o condutor de mulas guiava lentamente os animais pelo terreno irregular, eles tinham tempo de parar naqueles lugares solitários e refletir profundamente. Pensamentos assim podem acalmar o coração ao mesmo tempo em que o elevam, dando-lhe a forte sensação de que Deus está presente ali. Ainda assim, St. Aubert sentia uma triste ternura que dava a tudo uma cor mais suave e fazia com que tudo ao seu redor parecesse mais sagrado.

En Eles já haviam se preparado para parte dos problemas causados pela falta de boas pousadas. Levavam comida na carruagem, para poder descansar e comer ao ar livre em um lugar agradável, e dormir em qualquer casa de campo confortável que encontrassem. Também levavam algo para a mente: um livro de botânica de M. Barreaux e vários poetas latinos e italianos. Emily também tinha seu lápis, que lhe permitia guardar algumas das formas e cenas que a agradavam a cada passo do caminho.

En A estrada era solitária. De vez em quando viam apenas um camponês guiando uma mula, ou crianças da montanha brincando entre as rochas. Isso fazia a paisagem parecer ainda mais bonita. St. Aubert ficou tão impressionado que decidiu ir mais fundo nas montanhas, se encontrasse uma estrada. Ele queria virar mais para o sul e depois sair em Rousillon, viajando pela parte mediterrânea do país em direção a Languedoc.

En Pouco depois do meio-dia, chegaram ao topo de um penhasco. Palmeiras cresciam ali e deixavam o lugar verde e brilhante, como joias sobre as grandes paredes de rocha. Dali podiam ver quase toda a Gasconha e parte de Languedoc. Havia sombra e água fresca de uma nascente, que corria pela grama sob as árvores e depois caía de pedra em pedra, até que seu som se perdia no vale profundo abaixo. Ainda assim, sua espuma branca podia ser vista por muito tempo entre os pinheiros escuros.

En Era um bom lugar para descansar, então os viajantes desceram da carruagem para almoçar. As mulas foram desatreladas para que pudessem comer as ervas que cresciam no topo do penhasco.

En Levou algum tempo até que St. Aubert e Emily conseguissem parar de olhar para a paisagem ao redor e começar a comer. Sentado à sombra das palmeiras, St. Aubert mostrou a Emily o curso dos rios, a localização das grandes cidades e as fronteiras das províncias. Ele conhecia essas coisas mais por estudo do que por tê-las visto. Depois de falar por um tempo, ficou calado e pensativo. Lágrimas frequentemente enchiam seus olhos, e Emily as via e entendia o motivo. Aquele lugar os lembrava de uma vista favorita da falecida Madame St. Aubert perto da casa de pesca, embora esta fosse muito mais grandiosa. Os dois pensaram em como ela teria sido feliz ali, e também em como seus olhos nunca mais se abririam para este mundo. St. Aubert se lembrou da última vez que estivera ali com ela, e dos pensamentos tristes que tivera naquele momento. Agora, esses pensamentos haviam se tornado realidade muito rapidamente. A lembrança o dominou, e ele de repente se levantou e se afastou para que ninguém visse sua tristeza.

En Quando voltou, seu rosto já estava calmo outra vez. Ele pegou a mão de Emily e a apertou com carinho, sem dizer nada. Depois chamou o condutor de mulas, que estava sentado um pouco mais adiante, e perguntou sobre uma estrada pelas montanhas em direção a Rousillon. Michael disse que havia várias estradas naquela direção, mas não sabia até onde iam nem se eram seguras. St. Aubert não queria viajar depois do pôr do sol, então perguntou a que vilarejo poderiam chegar até aquela hora. O condutor disse que podiam facilmente chegar a Mateau, que ficava na estrada em que estavam. Mas, se tomassem uma estrada mais ao sul em direção a Rousillon, havia um pequeno povoado que talvez pudessem alcançar antes de anoitecer.

En Depois de alguma hesitação, St. Aubert escolheu a segunda estrada. Michael terminou sua refeição, atrelou as mulas novamente e partiu. Logo parou, e St. Aubert o viu se curvando diante de uma cruz sobre uma rocha acima do caminho. Depois de rezar, ele estalou o chicote e seguiu em disparada, apesar da estrada acidentada e da dor de suas pobres mulas, das quais ele mesmo tinha acabado de sentir pena. Ele correu pela beira de um penhasco tão íngreme que deu tontura em Emily só de olhar para baixo. Ela ficou tão assustada que quase desmaiou. St. Aubert temia que parar o condutor de repente fosse ainda mais perigoso, então teve que ficar quieto e confiar nas mulas, cujo bom senso parecia melhor que o do dono. Elas levaram os viajantes em segurança até o vale e pararam perto do riacho que o regava.

En Deixando para trás as vistas amplas, entraram agora em um vale estreito, escondido por

En Rochas empilhadas sobre rochas como que por mágica, algumas queimadas por relâmpagos, outras cobertas de hera verde.

En A paisagem nua era quebrada aqui e ali por grandes galhos de larícios e cedros, que lançavam escuridão sobre o penhasco ou sobre a torrente no vale. Nenhuma criatura viva podia ser vista, exceto a camurça selvagem, que subia entre as rochas e muitas vezes ficava em pontos tão perigosos que até a imaginação recuava diante deles. Era o tipo de lugar que SALVATOR teria escolhido para uma pintura, se estivesse vivo. St. Aubert sentiu a beleza selvagem do lugar com tanta força que quase esperava ver bandidos saltarem de trás de alguma rocha. Ele manteve a mão sobre as armas que sempre carregava consigo.

En Enquanto seguiam, o vale foi se abrindo aos poucos. Seu aspecto selvagem tornou-se mais suave. Ao anoitecer, estavam entre montanhas cobertas de urze bem à frente. Ouviram o sino solitário de uma ovelha e o pastor chamando seu rebanho para o cercado noturno. A cabana dele estava parcialmente escondida por um sobreiro e uma azinheira. St. Aubert notou que essas árvores cresciam mais alto do que quaisquer outras, exceto o abeto. Era a única moradia humana que conseguiam ver. No fundo do vale, a grama era muito verde. Nas pequenas depressões entre as montanhas, sob carvalhos e castanheiras, o gado pastava. Muitos animais também descansavam perto do riacho, ou refrescavam o corpo na água e bebiam dela.

En O sol estava se pondo sobre o vale. Sua última luz brilhava na água e deixava as cores amarelas e roxas da urze e da giesta ainda mais vivas. St. Aubert perguntou a Michael quanto faltava para o povoado que ele havia mencionado, mas o homem não sabia dizer ao certo. Emily começou a temer que ele tivesse tomado a estrada errada. Não havia ninguém ali para ajudá-los ou guiá-los. Já haviam deixado o pastor e sua cabana bem para trás. A escuridão ia caindo, e eles já não conseguiam enxergar longe pelo vale para procurar uma casa ou um povoado. O céu a oeste ainda brilhava um pouco, e isso ajudava um pouco. Michael parecia tentar manter a coragem cantando. Mas sua canção era muito triste. Ele a cantava como se fosse um cântico, e St. Aubert por fim percebeu que era um hino noturno dedicado ao santo favorito de Michael.

En Seguiram viagem na tristeza silenciosa que o crepúsculo e a solidão trazem. Michael havia terminado sua canção, e agora ouviam apenas o som suave da brisa na floresta e seu leve farfalhar ao entrar na carruagem. Por fim, foram sobressaltados pelo som de um tiro. St. Aubert pediu ao condutor que parasse, e ficaram escutando. O som não se repetiu. Pouco depois, ouviram um movimento nos arbustos. St. Aubert pegou uma pistola e disse a Michael para seguir o mais rápido possível. Não muito depois, uma corneta soou e ecoou pelas montanhas. St. Aubert olhou para fora de novo e viu um jovem saltar dos arbustos para a estrada, seguido por dois cães. O estranho usava roupas de caçador. Sua espingarda pendia sobre os ombros, sua corneta estava presa ao cinto, e ele carregava uma pequena lança na mão. Ele parecia forte e ágil, e se movia rapidamente.

En Depois de uma breve hesitação, St. Aubert parou a carruagem outra vez e esperou o homem se aproximar, para perguntar sobre o povoado que procuravam. O estranho disse que ficava a apenas meia légua dali. Ele mesmo estava indo para lá e mostraria o caminho com prazer. St. Aubert agradeceu e, agradado pelo rosto franco e pelos modos nobres do rapaz, convidou-o a sentar-se na carruagem. O estranho recusou educadamente e disse que acompanharia as mulas a pé. Depois acrescentou: "Mas temo que encontrem pouco conforto por lá. As pessoas destas montanhas vivem de forma simples. Não têm os luxos da vida, e lhes falta quase até mesmo o que os outros consideram necessário."

En "Vejo que o senhor não é uma das pessoas que vivem aqui", disse St. Aubert.

En "Não, senhor. Sou apenas um viajante por aqui."

En A carruagem seguiu em frente, e a escuridão crescente fez os viajantes ficarem felizes por ter um guia. Os muitos vales entre as montanhas também tornavam o caminho mais difícil de seguir. Olhando para um desses vales, Emily viu algo distante que parecia uma nuvem brilhante no céu. "Que luz é aquela, senhor?" ela perguntou.

En St. Aubert olhou e viu que era o topo nevado de uma montanha. Ela era muito mais alta do que as outras ao redor, por isso ainda captava os raios do sol, enquanto as montanhas mais baixas já estavam na sombra profunda.

En Por fim, luzes de um povoado começaram a brilhar através do crepúsculo. Logo depois, viram casas no vale. Na verdade, perceberam-nas primeiro pelo reflexo no riacho ao lado do qual ficavam, e a luz do entardecer ainda brilhava na água.

En O estranho se aproximou deles, e depois de fazer mais perguntas, St. Aubert soube que não havia apenas nenhuma pousada no povoado, mas nenhum estabelecimento público de espécie alguma. Ainda assim, o estranho se ofereceu para ir na frente e pedir uma casa onde pudessem ficar. St. Aubert agradeceu novamente. Como o povoado estava tão perto, disse que desceria e caminharia com ele. Emily seguiu devagar na carruagem.

En No caminho, St. Aubert perguntou ao companheiro sobre seu sucesso na caçada. "Não muito, senhor", ele respondeu. "Não é isso que eu busco. Gosto do campo e quero passar algumas semanas caminhando por suas paisagens. Levo meus cães por companhia, não para caçar. Além disso, essas roupas me dão um motivo para estar aqui e fazem as pessoas me respeitarem. Um estranho solitário sem motivo aparente não receberia esse respeito."

En St. Aubert disse: "Admiro seu gosto. Se eu fosse mais jovem, adoraria passar algumas semanas como o senhor. Eu também sou um viajante, mas meu plano e meus interesses são diferentes. Viajo tanto pela saúde quanto pelo prazer." Ele suspirou e fez uma pausa, depois continuou: "Se eu encontrar uma boa estrada com lugares decentes para ficar, pretendo ir até Rousillon e seguir pela costa até Languedoc. O senhor parece conhecer bem esta região. Pode me dar informações?"

En O estranho disse que ficava feliz em ajudar. Em seguida, contou a St. Aubert sobre uma estrada mais a leste que levava a uma cidade. De lá, seria fácil continuar até Rousillon.

En Chegaram ao povoado e começaram a procurar uma casa onde pudessem passar a noite. Em várias casas onde entraram, encontraram pessoas pobres que pareciam ao mesmo tempo alegres e ignorantes. Os donos olhavam para St. Aubert com curiosidade e medo. Não conseguiam encontrar uma cama, e ele já quase tinha desistido de perguntar quando Emily se aproximou dele. Ela viu como seu pai parecia cansado e lamentou que ele tivesse escolhido uma estrada com tão poucos confortos para um homem doente. Outras casas eram um pouco melhores, mas ainda muito rústicas. Tinham apenas dois cômodos, se é que podiam ser chamados de cômodos. Em um ficavam as mulas e os porcos. No outro morava a família, muitas vezes seis ou oito filhos com os pais, dormindo sobre peles e folhas secas de faia num chão de barro batido. A luz e a fumaça entravam por um buraco no teto, e o cheiro de aguardente costumava pairar no ar, porque os contrabandistas haviam ensinado aquela gente a beber. Emily desviou o olhar dessas cenas e olhou para o pai com preocupação e amor. O jovem estranho percebeu isso. Ele chamou St. Aubert de lado e ofereceu-lhe sua própria cama. Disse que era decente em comparação com o que tinham acabado de ver, embora em outras circunstâncias tivesse vergonha de oferecê-la. St. Aubert agradeceu calorosamente, mas recusou a princípio. O estranho não aceitou a recusa. Implorou que ele não deixasse um homem doente dormir sobre peles duras enquanto ele mesmo dormia em uma cama. Disse também que a recusa feria seu orgulho, pois o fazia pensar que sua oferta não era boa o suficiente. Ofereceu-se para mostrar o caminho e disse que sua anfitriã certamente poderia arranjar lugar também para Emily.

En Por fim, St. Aubert concordou em aceitar a gentileza do estranho, se isso pudesse ser arranjado. Ficou surpreso, no entanto, que o estranho parecesse tão pouco romântico, já que havia oferecido o quarto a um homem doente em vez de a uma bela jovem. Ele não tinha oferecido nem uma vez para Emily. Mas Emily não pensava em si mesma. Seu sorriso radiante mostrava o quanto estava grata por seu pai ter sido escolhido primeiro.

En No caminho, o estranho, cujo nome era Valancourt, foi na frente falar com a anfitriã. Ela saiu e recebeu St. Aubert em uma casa muito melhor do que qualquer outra que ele tinha visto. A gentil mulher ficou feliz em hospedar os viajantes, e logo tiveram que ocupar as duas únicas camas do lugar. Ovos e leite eram a única comida que ela tinha, mas St. Aubert havia trazido outros alimentos para casos assim. Ele convidou Valancourt para ficar e compartilhar com ele uma refeição melhor, e Valancourt aceitou na hora. Passaram então uma hora em uma conversa pensativa. St. Aubert ficou muito satisfeito com a honestidade franca de Valancourt, seus modos simples e seu forte sentimento pela beleza da natureza. Ele costumava dizer que o verdadeiro amor pela natureza não podia existir com força sem um coração simples.

En A conversa foi interrompida por uma briga barulhenta lá fora, e a voz do condutor de mulas se destacava acima das outras. Valancourt se levantou de um salto e foi ver o que estava acontecendo, mas a discussão durou tanto que o próprio St. Aubert saiu para ver. Encontrou Michael discutindo com a anfitriã porque ela tinha se recusado a deixar as mulas dele dormirem em um quartinho onde ele e três dos filhos dela passariam a noite. O quarto era muito pobre, mas não havia outro lugar para dormirem. Mesmo assim, a mulher se recusava a deixar os animais dividirem o mesmo quarto com seus filhos. Isso ofendeu profundamente o condutor de mulas. Ele sentiu que sua honra tinha sido ferida, porque suas mulas não estavam sendo tratadas com respeito. Disse que seus animais eram tão honestos e bons quanto quaisquer outros da província e tinham direito a bom tratamento onde quer que fossem. Disse que eram inofensivos como cordeiros, a menos que alguém os insultasse. Contou que só se comportaram mal uma ou duas vezes em toda a sua vida, e mesmo assim tinham bons motivos. Uma vez tinham dado um coice em um menino que dormia no estábulo e quebrado sua perna. Ele lhes disse que estavam errados e, por Santo Antônio, acreditava que tinham entendido, porque nunca mais fizeram aquilo.

En Ele encerrou seu longo discurso dizendo que suas mulas deveriam dividir o abrigo com ele onde quer que fosse.

En Por fim, Valancourt resolveu a discussão. Ele chamou a anfitriã de lado e pediu que deixasse o condutor de mulas e seus animais ficarem sozinhos no quarto. Disse que os filhos dela poderiam usar a cama de peles destinada a ele, e que ele se enrolaria em sua capa e dormiria no banco perto da porta da casa. Ela quis recusar, tanto porque achava que era seu dever quanto porque não gostava do condutor de mulas. Mas Valancourt manteve-se firme, e no fim aquele assunto cansativo foi resolvido.

En Já era tarde quando St. Aubert e Emily foram para seus quartos, e Valancourt ocupou seu lugar junto à porta. Com o tempo ameno, ele preferia isso a uma cabana fechada e uma cama de peles. St. Aubert ficou surpreso ao encontrar livros de Homero, Horácio e Petrarca em seu quarto. O nome Valancourt escrito neles mostrava que eram dele.

Capítulo IV

En Ele era uma pessoa estranha e mutável. Gostava tanto de cenas suaves quanto de cenas assustadoras. Apreciava a escuridão e as tempestades. Também gostava dos mares calmos sob o sol. As mudanças tristes o divertiam. Se vinha um suspiro ou uma lágrima, era tão doce que ele não queria contê-lo. O MENESTREL

En St. Aubert acordou cedo, sentindo-se descansado e pronto para seguir viagem. Convidou o estranho para tomar café da manhã com ele. Voltaram a falar sobre a estrada. Valancourt disse que, alguns meses antes, tinha ido até Beaujeu, uma cidade bastante importante no caminho para Rousillon. Ele aconselhou St. Aubert a seguir essa rota, e St. Aubert decidiu fazer isso.

En Valancourt disse: "A estrada que sai deste povoado e a estrada para Beaujeu se separam a cerca de uma légua e meia daqui. Se me permitir, guiarei seu condutor até lá. Preciso caminhar para algum lugar mesmo, e a companhia de vocês tornaria essa caminhada mais agradável do que qualquer outra que eu pudesse fazer."

En St. Aubert agradeceu e aceitou. Partiram juntos, com o jovem estranho caminhando a pé, pois recusou o convite de St. Aubert para andar na pequena carruagem.

En A estrada serpenteava ao pé das montanhas, atravessando um vale tranquilo cheio de plantas verdes. Era um lugar bonito, com pequenos grupos de carvalhos, faias e plátanos, sob cujos galhos o gado descansava. Sorveiras e bétulas-chorão também espalhavam suas folhas pendentes pelas encostas acima, onde o solo fino mal cobria suas raízes e seus galhos leves se moviam a cada brisa da montanha.

En Os viajantes encontravam com frequência pastores àquela hora tão cedo, antes de o sol nascer sobre o vale, conduzindo grandes rebanhos para fora dos currais, a fim de pastarem nas colinas. St. Aubert tinha partido tão cedo não só para ver o nascer do sol, mas também para respirar o ar fresco da manhã, que faz muito bem a uma pessoa doente. Isso era ainda mais verdadeiro naqueles lugares, onde muitas flores silvestres e ervas perfumadas enchiam o ar com seu aroma.

En O amanhecer havia suavizado a paisagem com sua luz cinzenta, mas agora essa luz desaparecia. Emily observou o dia começar, primeiro tremeluzindo nos topos dos penhascos mais altos, depois brilhando forte sobre eles, enquanto as encostas e o vale abaixo ainda estavam cobertos de névoa. As nuvens a leste mudavam de um cinza opaco para o vermelho, depois para um brilho intenso, até que uma luz dourada se espalhou pelo ar, tocou as encostas mais baixas das montanhas e caiu em longos feixes inclinados sobre o vale e seu riacho. Parecia que toda a natureza tinha voltado à vida. St. Aubert se sentiu renovado. Seu coração estava cheio, ele chorou, e seus pensamentos se elevaram até o Grande Criador.

En Emily queria correr pela grama, tão verde e brilhante de orvalho, e sentir a mesma liberdade que a camurça parecia sentir ao saltar pela beira do penhasco. Valancourt parava com frequência para conversar com os viajantes e apontar as coisas que admirava. St. Aubert gostava dele e pensava: "Esta é a verdadeira franqueza e o verdadeiro fogo da juventude. Este rapaz nunca esteve em Paris."

En St. Aubert ficou triste quando chegaram ao lugar onde as estradas se separavam. Depois de um encontro tão breve, ele sentia por Valancourt um carinho maior do que o normal. Valancourt conversou por muito tempo ao lado da carruagem. Mais de uma vez pareceu prestes a partir, mas continuava ali, como se procurasse mais alguma coisa para dizer, a fim de demorar um pouco mais. Por fim, despediu-se. Ao se afastar, St. Aubert o viu olhar para Emily de forma séria e triste. Ela fez uma reverência para ele, com uma expressão tímida e doce, enquanto a carruagem seguia. Pouco depois, St. Aubert olhou pela janela e viu Valancourt parado à beira da estrada, apoiado em sua lança, com os braços cruzados, observando a carruagem. St. Aubert acenou. Valancourt pareceu despertar de seus pensamentos, retribuiu o cumprimento e se afastou depressa.

En A paisagem começou a mudar. Logo os viajantes estavam entre montanhas cobertas quase da base ao topo por escuras florestas de pinheiros, exceto onde uma rocha de granito se erguia do vale e perdia seu topo nevado entre as nuvens. O riacho que os tinha acompanhado até então se transformou em um rio, que corria fundo e silencioso, refletindo as sombras escuras acima como um espelho. De vez em quando, um penhasco se erguia ousadamente acima da floresta e da névoa que pairava na metade das montanhas. Em outros momentos, uma parede íngreme de mármore se erguia da água, e sobre ela o larício espalhava seus enormes galhos, às vezes marcados por relâmpagos, às vezes cheios de folhas densas.

En Continuaram viajando por uma estrada acidentada, usada por pouca gente. De vez em quando viam um pastor solitário com seu cão caminhando pelo vale. Ouviam apenas o som forte de torrentes escondidas, o longo e triste som do vento nos pinheiros, e os gritos de águias e abutres voando em círculos ao redor do penhasco íngreme.

En Muitas vezes, quando a carruagem avançava devagar pela estrada irregular, St. Aubert descia. Ele gostava de observar as plantas estranhas que cresciam à beira da estrada, já que essa região tinha muitas delas. Emily, tomada por forte emoção, se afastava sob as árvores e escutava em silêncio os sons solitários da floresta.

En Por muitos quilômetros, não viram nenhuma vila nem povoado. As únicas moradias que encontraram foram as cabanas de cabreiros ou caçadores, no alto, entre os penhascos rochosos.

En Os viajantes almoçaram novamente ao ar livre, em um lugar agradável do vale, sob a ampla sombra de cedros. Depois seguiram viagem em direção a Beaujeu.

En A estrada começou a descer, e as florestas de pinheiros ficaram para trás enquanto ela serpenteava entre penhascos rochosos. A noite chegou novamente, e os viajantes não sabiam a que distância ainda estavam de Beaujeu. St. Aubert achava que não podia ser muito longe, e se consolava com a ideia de chegar, depois da cidade, a uma estrada mais movimentada, onde planejava passar a noite. No crepúsculo, mal conseguiam distinguir florestas, rochas e montanhas cobertas de urze, e logo até essas formas desapareceram na escuridão. Michael conduzia com cuidado, pois quase não conseguia ver a estrada, mas suas mulas pareciam mais sábias e mantinham os passos firmes.

En Quando contornaram uma montanha, viram uma luz distante que iluminava as rochas e boa parte do céu. Era claramente um grande fogo, mas não sabiam dizer se tinha sido acidental. St. Aubert pensou que poderia ter sido causado por bandidos que perturbavam os Pireneus, então ficou alerta e preocupado se a estrada passaria perto dali. Ele levava armas consigo, mas elas ofereceriam pouca proteção contra ladrões tão desesperados. Então ouviu uma voz atrás deles gritando para o condutor parar. St. Aubert disse a ele para seguir o mais rápido possível, mas nem Michael nem as mulas aceleraram o passo. Depois ouviu o som de cascos de cavalo. Um homem se aproximou cavalgando e continuava ordenando ao condutor que parasse. St. Aubert compreendeu a intenção do homem e conseguiu, com dificuldade, preparar uma pistola. Quando o homem chegou perto da porta da carruagem, St. Aubert atirou. O homem cambaleou sobre o cavalo, e depois do tiro houve um gemido. St. Aubert ficou horrorizado ao achar que reconhecia a voz fraca de Valancourt. Disse ao condutor para parar e chamou pelo nome de Valancourt. Uma voz respondeu, e ele então soube que era realmente ele. St. Aubert desceu na hora e foi ajudá-lo. Valancourt ainda estava sobre o cavalo, sangrando muito e com muita dor, embora tentasse acalmar St. Aubert dizendo que o ferimento era apenas no braço. Com a ajuda do condutor, St. Aubert o ajudou a descer do cavalo. Ele sentou-se na beira da estrada enquanto St. Aubert tentava enfaixar o braço, mas suas mãos tremiam demais. Michael tinha ido atrás do cavalo, que havia fugido, então St. Aubert chamou Emily para ajudar. Como ela não respondeu, ele foi até a carruagem e a encontrou desmaiada no banco. Ele ficou tão perturbado tanto pelo estado dela quanto pelo ferimento de Valancourt que mal sabia o que fazer. Tentou erguê-la e chamou Michael para trazer água do riacho ao lado da estrada, mas Michael estava longe demais para ouvir. Valancourt ouviu os gritos e o nome de Emily, e entendeu na hora o que tinha acontecido. Esquecendo sua própria dor, correu para ajudá-la. Ela estava despertando quando ele chegou à carruagem, e ao saber que a preocupação com ele tinha causado seu desmaio, disse a ela, com voz trêmula, que seu ferimento não era grave. Então St. Aubert viu que Valancourt ainda sangrava, então fez rapidamente uma bandagem com lenços. Isso estancou o sangue, mas St. Aubert ainda temia os efeitos do ferimento e continuava perguntando a que distância estavam de Beaujeu. Quando soube que ficava a duas léguas, ficou ainda mais preocupado, pois não sabia como Valancourt suportaria o percurso na carruagem, e via que ele já estava fraco pela perda de sangue. Valancourt implorou que ele não se preocupasse tanto, dizendo que tinha certeza de que aguentaria bem, e tentou falar do acidente como se fosse algo pequeno. O condutor de mulas voltou com o cavalo de Valancourt e o ajudou a entrar na carruagem. Emily já tinha se recuperado, e seguiram devagar em direção a Beaujeu.

En Depois que St. Aubert se recuperou do choque, ficou surpreso ao ver Valancourt. Valancourt explicou: "Senhor, o senhor me fez querer companhia outra vez. Depois que vocês partiram do povoado, ele pareceu muito solitário. Então decidi ir para outro lugar em busca de diversão. Tomei esta estrada porque atravessa montanhas mais bonitas. E" - ele parou por um momento - "eu vou contar, por que não? Eu esperava alcançá-los."

En "E eu retribuí esse elogio de uma forma bem inesperada", disse St. Aubert. Ele lamentou novamente o gesto precipitado que tinha causado o acidente e explicou por que tinha ficado tão alarmado. Mas Valancourt parecia se importar apenas em aliviar os sentimentos dos outros. Ele continuava lutando contra a dor e tentava falar com bom humor. Emily permaneceu calada, exceto quando Valancourt falava diretamente com ela, e então sua voz tinha um tom trêmulo que dizia muito.

En Agora estavam tão perto do fogo, que já brilhava havia muito tempo contra a noite escura, que ele iluminava a estrada e conseguiam ver figuras se movendo ao redor dele. Enquanto o caminho serpenteava cada vez mais perto, viram no vale um dos muitos grupos de ciganos que naquela época viviam nos Pireneus e sobreviviam em parte roubando viajantes. Emily sentiu um certo medo ao ver seus rostos selvagens junto ao fogo. As chamas davam às rochas e às árvores uma luz vermelha e fraca, enquanto permaneciam sombras profundas e lugares escuros onde os olhos não queriam entrar.

En Eles estavam preparando o jantar. Uma grande panela ficava junto ao fogo, e várias pessoas se ocupavam ao seu redor. O fogo também mostrava uma barraca rústica, com muitas crianças e cães brincando por perto, e toda a cena parecia estranha e selvagem. Os viajantes perceberam que estavam em perigo. Valancourt não disse nada, mas pôs a mão em uma das pistolas de St. Aubert. St. Aubert pegou a outra, e disseram a Michael para seguir o mais rápido que pudesse. Mas passaram pelo local sem serem atacados, provavelmente porque o grupo não estava preparado e estava ocupado demais com o jantar para se importar com qualquer outra coisa naquele momento.

En Depois de mais uma légua e meia na escuridão, os viajantes chegaram a Beaujeu e foram até a única pousada da cidade. Era melhor do que qualquer lugar que tinham visto desde que entraram nas montanhas, mas ainda era pobre.

En O cirurgião da cidade foi chamado imediatamente, se é que podia ser chamado de cirurgião. Ele tratava cavalos e pessoas, e fazia a barba quase tão bem quanto engessava ossos. Depois de examinar o braço de Valancourt, viu que a bala tinha atravessado a carne sem atingir o osso. Ele enfaixou o ferimento e mandou o rapaz descansar, mas o paciente não queria fazer isso. Valancourt se sentia muito melhor agora que a dor tinha diminuído. Ele queria se juntar a St. Aubert e Emily, que estavam alegres porque seus medos tinham passado. Mas St. Aubert precisou sair com o dono da pousada para comprar carne para o jantar. Durante esse tempo, Emily ficou afastada o máximo que pôde, cuidando do quarto deles, que era melhor do que ela esperava. No fim, teve que voltar e conversar com Valancourt a sós. Falaram sobre a região por onde tinham passado, sua história natural, poesia, e St. Aubert, um assunto de que Emily sempre gostava muito.

En Os viajantes tiveram uma noite agradável. Mas St. Aubert estava cansado da viagem, e Valancourt parecia sentir dor novamente, então se separaram logo depois do jantar.

En De manhã, St. Aubert soube que Valancourt tinha passado uma noite ruim. Ele estava com febre, e o ferimento doía muito. Quando o cirurgião trocou o curativo, aconselhou Valancourt a ficar tranquilamente em Beaujeu. Esse conselho era sensato, então foi aceito. St. Aubert não confiava no cirurgião e queria melhores cuidados para Valancourt. Mas, depois de perguntar por ali, descobriu que não havia nenhuma cidade a várias léguas de distância que parecesse ter um médico melhor. Então mudou seus planos de viagem e decidiu esperar até que Valancourt se recuperasse. Valancourt fez muitas objeções a esse atraso, embora não parecesse totalmente sincero.

En Por ordem do cirurgião, Valancourt ficou na casa naquele dia. Mas St. Aubert e Emily caminharam pela cidade e apreciaram a paisagem ao redor. A cidade ficava ao pé dos Alpes pirenaicos. Algumas montanhas se erguiam em penhascos íngremes, e outras eram cobertas por florestas de cedro, abeto e cipreste quase até o topo. O verde vivo das faias e das sorveiras às vezes brilhava através da floresta escura, como luz. Em outros momentos, um riacho impetuoso reluzia no alto, entre as árvores.

En A doença de Valancourt manteve os viajantes em Beaujeu por vários dias. Durante esse tempo, St. Aubert estudou com atenção seu caráter e seus talentos. Ele viu que Valancourt era franco e generoso, cheio de energia, e profundamente tocado pelo que era grandioso e belo. Mas também era impulsivo, selvagem e um tanto romântico. Sabia pouco sobre o mundo. Compreendia as coisas com clareza e sentia profundamente. Falava com grande emoção quando odiava uma ação vergonhosa ou admirava uma ação nobre. St. Aubert às vezes sorria diante de sua paixão, mas raramente o continha. Pensava com frequência: "Este rapaz nunca esteve em Paris." Depois suspirava. Decidiu não deixar Valancourt até que estivesse totalmente recuperado. Como Valancourt já podia viajar, mas ainda não podia montar seu cavalo, St. Aubert o convidou para ir com eles na carruagem por alguns dias. Ele concordou com ainda mais facilidade ao saber que Valancourt pertencia a uma família do mesmo nome na Gasconha, e que sabia que eram pessoas respeitáveis. Valancourt aceitou com grande satisfação, e partiram novamente pela região selvagem perto de Rousillon.

En Viajavam devagar e paravam sempre que viam uma cena especialmente grandiosa. Muitas vezes desciam e subiam até um lugar alto onde as mulas não podiam ir, e a vista se tornava ainda mais magnífica. Também caminhavam por colinas cobertas de lavanda, tomilho selvagem, zimbro e tamargueira, e sob bosques onde podiam ver longas vistas das montanhas entre os troncos das árvores. Essas paisagens pareciam ainda mais maravilhosas do que Emily jamais tinha imaginado.

En St. Aubert às vezes se divertia colhendo plantas enquanto Valancourt e Emily seguiam caminhando. Valancourt apontava coisas de que gostava especialmente e recitava belos versos de poetas latinos e italianos que ele sabia que Emily admirava. Quando ficavam em silêncio, e ele achava que ela não percebia, ele frequentemente olhava para o rosto dela com profunda atenção. O rosto dela mostrava a vivacidade e a força de sua mente. Quando voltava a falar, sua voz ficava especialmente suave, e era difícil esconder seus sentimentos. Pouco a pouco, essas pausas silenciosas se tornaram mais frequentes. Só Emily parecia ansiosa para quebrá-las. Ela, que até então tinha ficado calada, agora falava sem parar sobre os bosques, os vales e as montanhas, para que não houvesse o perigo de cumplicidade e silêncio.

En A partir de Beaujeu, a estrada continuava subindo e levava os viajantes a alturas cada vez maiores. Ali viram enormes geleiras e neve que nunca derretia nos topos das montanhas. Paravam com frequência para observar essas cenas grandiosas. Sentados em penhascos selvagens, onde só a azinheira ou o larício conseguiam crescer, olhavam para florestas escuras de abetos e rochas íngremes onde nenhum pé humano jamais tinha pisado, e para um vale tão profundo que o ruído do riacho no fundo mal podia ser ouvido. Acima daqueles penhascos erguiam-se outros, enormes e de formas estranhas, alguns em forma de cone e outros inclinados bem além de sua base, em grandes massas de granito. Em suas cristas quebradas havia neve pesada, que tremia ao menor som e parecia prestes a despencar no vale. Ao redor deles, até onde a vista alcançava, só havia grandiosidade: longas fileiras de picos tingidos de azul pelo ar ou de branco pela neve, vales gelados e escuras florestas de abetos. O ar limpo e calmo era muito agradável para os viajantes. Parecia elevar seus espíritos e enchê-los de uma alegria tranquila. Eles não tinham palavras para os sentimentos intensos que sentiam. St. Aubert parecia sério, muitas vezes tinha lágrimas nos olhos, e frequentemente se afastava dos outros. Valancourt às vezes apontava detalhes da paisagem para Emily. O ar rarefeito fazia tudo parecer muito nítido, e Emily mal conseguia acreditar que coisas que pareciam tão próximas estavam, na verdade, muito longe. O silêncio profundo era quebrado apenas de vez em quando pelo grito de abutres perto de um penhasco abaixo, ou por uma águia bem no alto do céu, exceto quando ouviam o trovão surdo que às vezes soava sob seus pés. Acima deles, o céu era de um azul profundo, sem nuvens, enquanto na metade das montanhas longas ondas de névoa costumavam passar, escondendo a terra abaixo e depois se abrindo novamente para mostrá-la em parte. Emily adorava observar essas nuvens mudando de forma e cor, e via como elas transformavam o mundo lá embaixo, cujos traços meio escondidos iam ganhando novas formas de grandiosidade.

En Depois de muitas léguas por essas regiões, começaram a descer em direção a Rousillon, e a beleza passou a fazer parte da paisagem. Ainda assim, os viajantes olhavam para trás com certa tristeza, para as vistas grandiosas que tinham deixado para trás. No entanto, seus olhos, cansados de olhar tão longe, ficavam felizes em descansar sobre os bosques verdes e os prados junto ao rio lá embaixo, sobre a simples casa sombreada por cedros, sobre as crianças da montanha brincando, e sobre os cantos cheios de flores entre as colinas.

En Enquanto desciam, avistaram, bem à direita, uma das grandes passagens dos Pireneus para a Espanha. Suas torres e muralhas brilhavam à luz do sol poente. Os topos amarelados das florestas coloriam as encostas abaixo, enquanto, bem no alto, os picos nevados das montanhas ainda mostravam uma suave luz rosada.

En St. Aubert começou a procurar a pequena cidade de que as pessoas de Beaujeu tinham lhe falado, onde pretendia passar a noite. Mas nenhuma casa ainda era visível. Valancourt não conseguia ajudá-lo a calcular a distância, pois nunca tinha viajado tão longe por aquela parte dos Alpes. Ainda assim, havia apenas uma estrada a seguir, e era provável que fosse a certa, já que nenhum outro caminho tinha aparecido para confundi-los desde que saíram de Beaujeu.

En O sol dava sua última luz, e St. Aubert disse ao condutor de mulas para seguir o mais rápido possível. Ele sentiu voltar a fraqueza e o cansaço, depois de um dia que tinha esgotado tanto seu corpo quanto sua mente, e desejava descansar. Também ficou perturbado ao ver uma longa fila de homens, cavalos e mulas carregadas descendo a montanha do outro lado, aparecendo e desaparecendo repetidamente entre as árvores, de modo que ninguém conseguia dizer quantos eram. Algo brilhante, como armas, reluziu ao pôr do sol, e os homens da frente, assim como outros no grupo atrás, usavam trajes militares. Enquanto desciam para o vale, a retaguarda do grupo saiu do bosque e revelou um pelotão de soldados. St. Aubert então se sentiu mais tranquilo. Tinha certeza de que a fila à sua frente era formada por contrabandistas que estavam levando mercadorias proibidas pelos Pireneus e tinham sido encontrados e derrotados por tropas.

En Os viajantes tinham demorado tanto entre as vistas grandiosas das montanhas que estavam enganados ao pensar que poderiam chegar a Montigny antes do pôr do sol. Enquanto seguiam o vale, viram, sobre uma rústica ponte alpina que unia duas rochas altas, um grupo de crianças da montanha. Elas jogavam pedrinhas no rio abaixo e observavam as pedras caírem na água. A água levantava borrifos brancos e produzia um som surdo que ecoava pelas montanhas. Sob a ponte, podiam ver o vale se estendendo ao longe, com uma cachoeira entre as rochas e uma casa em um penhasco sob pinheiros. Parecia que não podiam estar longe de uma pequena cidade. St. Aubert pediu ao condutor que parasse e chamou as crianças para perguntar se estavam perto de Montigny. Mas a distância e o barulho da água impediram que sua voz fosse ouvida. As rochas junto à ponte eram tão altas e íngremes que escalá-las teria sido quase impossível para quem não conhecesse o caminho. Por isso, St. Aubert não perdeu mais tempo. Continuaram viajando muito depois de o crepúsculo esconder a estrada, e, como o caminho estava tão acidentado, desceram e seguiram a pé. A lua estava nascendo, mas sua luz ainda era fraca demais para ajudá-los. Enquanto avançavam com cuidado, ouviram o sino noturno de um convento. Na escuridão, não conseguiam ver nenhum prédio, mas o som parecia vir de um bosque em uma encosta à direita. Valancourt sugeriu que ele mesmo fosse procurar o convento. "Se não quiserem nos dar um lugar para passar a noite", disse ele, "com certeza podem nos dizer a que distância estamos de Montigny e nos mostrar o caminho." Ele começou a avançar sem esperar a resposta de St. Aubert, mas St. Aubert o deteve. "Estou muito cansado", disse ele, "e quero descansar mais do que tudo. Vamos todos juntos ao convento. Sua boa aparência pode atrapalhar nosso plano, mas quando virem meu rosto e o cansaço de Emily, dificilmente vão nos recusar abrigo."

En Ao dizer isso, ele segurou o braço de Emily e disse a Michael para esperar na estrada com a carruagem. Depois começaram a subir em direção ao bosque, guiados pelo som do sino do convento. Os passos de St. Aubert estavam fracos, e Valancourt ofereceu seu braço, que ele aceitou. A lua agora dava uma luz fraca, e logo puderam ver torres se erguendo acima do topo das árvores. Ainda seguindo o sino, entraram na sombra das árvores. Apenas a luz da lua passava pelas folhas, dando uma luz trêmula e incerta ao caminho íngreme. A escuridão, o silêncio e a paisagem selvagem assustaram um pouco Emily, embora a voz e a conversa de Valancourt ajudassem a acalmá-la. Depois de subir por algum tempo, St. Aubert disse que estava cansado, e pararam para descansar em um pequeno morro verde, onde as árvores se abriam e deixavam entrar a luz da lua. Ele se sentou na grama entre Emily e Valancourt. O sino tinha parado, e a cena estava muito quieta. Só se ouvia o som baixo de cachoeiras distantes, que parecia somar-se à paz, em vez de quebrá-la.

En Diante deles se estendia o vale que tinham deixado para trás. Suas rochas e bosques à esquerda eram tocados pela luz prateada da lua, enquanto os penhascos do outro lado estavam em sombra profunda, com apenas os topos iluminados. Ao longe, o vale desaparecia na névoa amarelada da lua. Os viajantes ficaram sentados por um tempo, tomados pelo prazer tranquilo que cenas assim proporcionam.

En "Essas paisagens", disse Valancourt por fim, "suavizam o coração como uma música doce, e trazem uma tristeza maravilhosa que ninguém que já a sentiu trocaria pelos prazeres mais felizes. Elas despertam nossos melhores e mais puros sentimentos e nos tornam mais gentis, mais suaves e mais amigáveis. As pessoas que eu amo... sempre pareço amá-las mais em um momento como este." Sua voz tremeu, e ele parou de falar.

En St. Aubert não disse nada. Emily viu uma lágrima quente cair sobre a mão que ele segurava. Ela sabia em quem ele estava pensando, e ela mesma também vinha pensando em sua mãe havia algum tempo. Ele pareceu fazer um esforço para se controlar. "Sim", disse ele com um suspiro quase contido, "a lembrança daqueles que amamos, e dos tempos já passados, vem à mente numa hora como esta, como uma música distante na quietude da noite... suave e em harmonia com esta paisagem, repousando sob a luz macia da lua." Depois de um momento, St. Aubert acrescentou: "Sempre achei que entendo as coisas com mais clareza numa hora assim do que em qualquer outra, e qualquer coração que não se suavize sob essa influência deve ser frio. Mas existem muitos corações assim."

En Valancourt suspirou.

En "Existem mesmo muitos assim?" disse Emily.

En "Em poucos anos, minha Emily", respondeu St. Aubert, "você talvez sorria ao se lembrar dessa pergunta, se não chorar por causa dela. Mas venha, já me sinto um pouco melhor agora. Vamos continuar."

En Depois de saírem do bosque, viram o convento que procuravam em uma colina gramada acima deles. Um muro alto o cercava, e chegaram a um antigo portão e bateram. Um humilde monge o abriu e os levou a uma pequena sala ali perto, onde pediu que esperassem enquanto avisava o superior sobre o pedido deles. Enquanto esperavam, vários frades vieram, um a um, olhar para eles. Por fim o primeiro monge voltou, e foram com ele até a sala onde o superior estava sentado em uma poltrona. Um grande livro antigo estava aberto diante dele. Ele os cumprimentou com educação, embora não tenha se levantado, e depois de fazer algumas perguntas, atendeu ao pedido deles. Depois de uma breve conversa, formal e solene da parte do superior, foram até a sala onde iriam jantar. Valancourt, depois que um dos frades mais jovens gentilmente o convidou, foi procurar Michael e as mulas. Antes de terem descido metade do caminho pelos penhascos, ouviram a voz do condutor de mulas ecoando por toda parte. Às vezes ele chamava por St. Aubert, às vezes por Valancourt. Depois de convencê-lo de que nem ele nem seu patrão estavam em perigo, deixaram-no para passar a noite em uma casa na beira do bosque. Depois voltaram para jantar com seus amigos, com uma comida simples que os monges julgavam segura o bastante para oferecer. St. Aubert estava fraco demais para comer com eles, e Emily, preocupada com o pai, esquecia-se de si mesma. Valancourt ficou quieto e pensativo, mas os observava com cuidado e fazia tudo o que podia para ajudar St. Aubert. Emily insistia para que o pai comesse e ajeitava a almofada atrás da poltrona dele, e St. Aubert percebeu que Valancourt frequentemente olhava para ela com uma ternura triste, o que ele não lamentava compreender.

En Logo se separaram e foram para seus quartos. Uma freira do convento acompanhou Emily até o dela, e Emily ficou aliviada quando ela se retirou, pois se sentia triste e não suportava conversar com uma estranha. Ela achava que seu pai estava ficando mais fraco a cada dia, e acreditava que o cansaço dele vinha mais de seu corpo debilitado do que da viagem difícil. Pensamentos sombrios ficaram com ela até que ela adormeceu.

En Cerca de duas horas depois, ela acordou com o som de um sino e ouviu passos rápidos no corredor fora do quarto. Como não estava acostumada à vida no convento, isso a assustou. Ela sempre temia pelo pai, então pensou que ele pudesse estar muito doente e se levantou depressa para ir até ele. Mas antes de abrir a porta, esperou para deixar as pessoas do corredor passarem. Nesse tempo, sua mente clareou depois do sono, e ela entendeu que o sino tinha chamado os monges para as orações. Tudo ficou quieto de novo, então ela não foi até o quarto de St. Aubert. Ela ainda não estava pronta para dormir de novo, e a luz da lua em seu quarto a fez abrir a janela e olhar para a paisagem lá fora.

En Era uma noite calma e bonita. O céu estava limpo, e quase nenhuma folha se movia no ar, nos bosques lá embaixo. Enquanto ela escutava, o hino da meia-noite dos monges se elevava suavemente de uma capela em um dos penhascos mais baixos. Era um som sagrado, que parecia subir através da noite até o céu, e os pensamentos dela se elevaram junto com ele. Pensando nas obras de Deus, ela passou a adorar Sua bondade e Seu poder. Onde quer que olhasse, fosse para a terra adormecida ou para o vasto espaço cheio de mundos além da compreensão humana, ela sentia a grandeza e a presença de Deus. Seus olhos se encheram de lágrimas de admiração e amor reverente. Ela sentiu uma devoção pura, acima de todas as crenças humanas, uma devoção que eleva a alma acima deste mundo e parece dar-lhe uma natureza mais nobre. Essa devoção só pode ser sentida quando a mente se liberta por um instante das preocupações terrenas e se volta para o poder de Deus na grandeza de Suas obras e para Sua bondade em Seus inúmeros dons.

En Não é esta agora a hora, a hora sagrada, em que a lua cheia sobe pelo céu estrelado e dá um sinal a este mundo silencioso de que a religião deve falar ao ouvido atento do céu? Até um bebê sabe disso. Se despertado por acaso, ele ergue suas mãozinhas para os deuses e pede uma bênção sobre seu leito inocente.* *Caractacus

En Pouco depois, o cântico da meia-noite dos monges terminou em silêncio. Mas Emily continuou junto à janela, observando a lua se pôr e o vale escurecer, desejando manter aquele estado de paz por mais um pouco. Por fim, voltou para seu colchão e caiu num sono tranquilo.

Capítulo 5

En Depois que uma noite de descanso o deixou bem o suficiente para viajar, St. Aubert partiu de manhã com sua família e Valancourt em direção a Rousillon, aonde esperava chegar antes de anoitecer. A região por onde passavam era tão selvagem e romântica quanto qualquer outra que já tinham visto, mas a beleza muitas vezes a suavizava. Pequenos trechos arborizados apareciam entre as montanhas, verdes e floridos. Ou um vale pastoril se abria entre os penhascos, com rebanhos descansando junto a um riacho que o mantinha fresco e verde. St. Aubert não se arrependeu de ter escolhido aquela estrada difícil, embora naquele dia tivesse muitas vezes que descer e caminhar por rochas íngremes e subir montanhas escarpadas. A beleza e a variedade maravilhosas das paisagens o recompensavam. O entusiasmo de seus jovens companheiros também aumentava seus próprios sentimentos e trazia de volta a alegria de sua juventude, quando a beleza sublime da natureza se revelou a ele pela primeira vez. Ele gostava de conversar com Valancourt e de ouvir seus comentários sinceros. O entusiasmo e os modos simples de Valancourt faziam com que ele se encaixasse bem nas paisagens ao redor, e St. Aubert via em seus pensamentos o bom senso e a dignidade de uma mente nobre, ainda não corrompida pelo mundo. Ele percebia que as opiniões de Valancourt eram formadas por reflexão própria, não por imitação dos outros nem por muito estudo. Valancourt parecia saber pouco sobre o mundo, pois pensava bem de todo mundo, e essa crença refletia a bondade de seu próprio coração.

En Às vezes St. Aubert parava para observar as plantas selvagens à beira do caminho, e depois olhava à frente, com prazer, para Emily e Valancourt caminhando juntos. Valancourt, cheio de energia e alegria, apontava para ela alguma parte grandiosa da paisagem. Emily escutava e olhava com uma seriedade suave, mostrando a grandeza de sua mente. Pareciam dois namorados que nunca tivessem ido além daquelas montanhas onde tinham nascido. Suas vidas os haviam mantido longe das tolices da sociedade comum. Seus pensamentos eram simples e grandiosos, como as paisagens ao redor, e eles não conheciam outra felicidade além da união de corações puros e afetuosos. St. Aubert sorria e suspirava diante do quadro encantador que sua imaginação criava, e suspirava de novo porque o mundo conhecia tão pouco a natureza e a simplicidade que chamava as alegrias deles de românticas.

En "O mundo", disse ele, continuando seus pensamentos, "ri de um sentimento que raramente tem. Suas cenas e seus interesses perturbam a mente, estragam o bom gosto e corrompem o coração. O amor não pode viver num coração que perdeu a suave dignidade da inocência. Virtude e bom gosto são quase a mesma coisa, pois a virtude é, em grande parte, o bom gosto em ação, e os sentimentos mais nobres de ambos se unem no verdadeiro amor. Então, como podemos esperar encontrar amor nas grandes cidades, onde o egoísmo, a busca pelo prazer e a falsidade tomam o lugar da ternura, da simplicidade e da verdade?"

En Era quase meio-dia quando os viajantes chegaram a uma estrada íngreme e perigosa, e desceram para caminhar. A estrada subia uma colina arborizada, e, em vez de seguir a carruagem, eles entraram na sombra fresca. O ar estava fresco e úmido. Uma grama verde e brilhante crescia sob as árvores, e flores, erva-cidreira, tomilho e lavanda enchiam o ar com um cheiro doce. Pinheiros altos, faias e castanheiras se erguiam acima deles e tornavam o lugar muito encantador. Às vezes, a folhagem densa bloqueava toda a vista da região. Em outros momentos, deixavam ver rapidamente a paisagem distante, o que fazia os viajantes imaginar cenas ainda mais bonitas do que aquelas que conseguiam ver. Eles paravam com frequência para aproveitar esses devaneios.

En Havia mais pausas silenciosas do que nunca, naquele dia, nas conversas entre Valancourt e Emily. Valancourt muitas vezes mudava de repente de uma conversa animada para um pensamento profundo. Às vezes, seu sorriso mostrava uma tristeza verdadeira. Emily não conseguia deixar de entender isso, pois seu coração era tocado pelo que aquele sorriso dizia.

En St. Aubert se sentiu revigorado pela sombra, e continuaram caminhando sob as árvores, seguindo a estrada da melhor forma que conseguiam adivinhar. Logo perceberam que a tinham perdido por completo. Tinham ficado perto da beira de um penhasco, porque a vista era tão bonita, enquanto a estrada tinha ficado bem longe, acima deles. Valancourt chamou Michael em voz alta, mas só ouviu o eco da própria voz entre as rochas. Tentou várias vezes encontrar a estrada, mas não conseguiu. Então avistaram, a certa distância, a cabana de um pastor entre os troncos das árvores, e Valancourt correu na frente para pedir ajuda. Quando chegou lá, encontrou apenas duas crianças pequenas brincando do lado de fora. Ele olhou para dentro, mas não havia ninguém. O menino mais velho disse que o pai estava com as ovelhas, e a mãe tinha descido até o vale, mas logo voltaria. Enquanto Valancourt pensava no que fazer, de repente ouviu a voz forte de Michael chamando lá do alto dos penhascos. Respondeu na hora e abriu caminho pelos arbustos e pelo terreno íngreme em direção ao som. Depois de uma dura luta contra espinheiros e pedras, chegou até Michael e finalmente conseguiu fazê-lo parar e escutar. A estrada ficava longe de onde estavam St. Aubert e Emily. A carruagem não podia voltar facilmente até a beira do bosque, e St. Aubert estava cansado demais para subir a estrada longa e íngreme até lá. Por isso, Valancourt queria encontrar um caminho mais fácil para subir, pelo mesmo trajeto que ele tinha percorrido.

En Enquanto isso, St. Aubert e Emily foram até a cabana e descansaram em um banco simples, fixado entre dois pinheiros que o sombreavam, enquanto esperavam Valancourt voltar.

En A criança mais velha parou de brincar e ficou observando os estranhos, enquanto a mais nova continuava pulando e tentava fazer o irmão se juntar a ela. St. Aubert sorriu diante daquela cena de inocência infantil, mas ela o fez lembrar de seus próprios filhos, que tinha perdido mais ou menos naquela idade, e da mãe deles, que também já tinha partido. Ele ficou quieto e triste. Emily percebeu isso e, na hora, começou a cantar uma das canções simples e alegres de que ele gostava. Cantou de forma muito doce. St. Aubert sorriu em meio às lágrimas, pegou a mão dela e a apertou com carinho. Depois tentou afastar os pensamentos tristes.

En Enquanto ela cantava, Valancourt se aproximou. Ele não quis interrompê-la, então parou a uma certa distância e escutou. Quando ela terminou, ele se juntou a eles e disse que tinha encontrado Michael e também um caminho para subir o penhasco até a carruagem. Ele apontou para a encosta arborizada acima, e St. Aubert olhou para ela com preocupação. Já estava cansado de caminhar, e a subida parecia difícil. Ainda assim, achou que seria mais fácil do que a longa estrada acidentada, então decidiu tentar. Mas Emily sempre se preocupava com o conforto dele, então sugeriu que ele descansasse e comesse primeiro. Então Valancourt foi até a carruagem buscar a comida.

En Quando voltou, sugeriu que subissem um pouco mais na montanha, onde o bosque se abria para uma vista ampla e bonita. Estavam prontos para ir até lá quando viram uma jovem mulher se juntar às crianças e abraçá-las com força, chorando sobre elas.

En Comovidos com o sofrimento dela, os viajantes pararam para observá-la. Ela pegou a criança mais nova no colo e, ao perceber os estranhos, enxugou depressa as lágrimas e voltou para a cabana. St. Aubert perguntou sobre sua tristeza e soube que o marido dela era um pastor que morava ali no verão para cuidar das ovelhas nessas montanhas. Na noite anterior, ele tinha perdido tudo o que possuíam. Um grupo de ciganos vinha perturbando a região havia algum tempo e tinha levado várias ovelhas do patrão dele. A esposa do pastor disse: "Jacques tinha guardado um pouco de dinheiro e comprado algumas ovelhas com ele. Agora vai ter que responder ao patrão pelas que foram roubadas. Pior ainda, quando o patrão souber disso, não vai mais confiar as ovelhas a ele, porque é um homem duro. O que vai ser das nossas crianças então?"

En O rosto sincero da mulher e sua forma simples de falar fizeram St. Aubert acreditar em sua história. Valancourt tinha certeza de que era verdade, e perguntou depressa quanto valiam as ovelhas roubadas. Ao ouvir a resposta, virou-se, com um ar de decepção. St. Aubert deu-lhe algum dinheiro, e Emily também deu o que pôde de sua pequena bolsa. Depois seguiram em direção ao penhasco, mas Valancourt ficou para trás e falou com a esposa do pastor, que agora chorava de gratidão e surpresa. Ele perguntou quanto dinheiro ainda faltava para repor as ovelhas, e descobriu que era quase todo o dinheiro que tinha consigo. Sentiu-se perturbado e dividido. Aquele dinheiro poderia deixar a pobre família totalmente feliz, e ele tinha o poder de dá-lo. Mas o que aconteceria com ele? Como terminaria sua viagem com tão pouco dinheiro restante? Por um momento, ficou ali parado, sem querer perder a alegria de salvar uma família da ruína, mas preocupado com o resto de sua viagem.

En Enquanto ele ainda estava nesse dilema, o próprio pastor apareceu. Seus filhos correram ao seu encontro. Ele pegou uma criança nos braços, e a outra se agarrou ao seu casaco, enquanto ele avançava devagar e triste. Seu rosto infeliz fez Valancourt decidir na hora. Ele entregou todo o seu dinheiro, exceto uns poucos luíses, e correu atrás de St. Aubert e Emily, que subiam devagar o caminho íngreme. Valancourt raramente se sentira tão leve de coração. Estava cheio de alegria, e tudo ao seu redor parecia mais bonito do que antes. St. Aubert notou seu rosto radiante e perguntou: "O que te deixou tão feliz?" Valancourt respondeu: "Que dia tão lindo. Como o sol brilha, como o ar está fresco, e que paisagem tão bonita!" "É realmente muito bonita", disse St. Aubert, que entendia o que Valancourt estava sentindo. "É uma pena que as pessoas ricas, que podem aproveitar esse sol, passem suas vidas na tristeza e no egoísmo. Quanto a você, meu jovem amigo, que o sol sempre brilhe tão forte para você como brilha agora, e que suas ações sempre lhe deem a luz da bondade e do bom senso juntas!"

En Valancourt ficou muito feliz com esse elogio, mas só conseguiu responder com um sorriso de gratidão.

En Eles continuaram andando por caminhos que serpenteavam sob os bosques, entre as colinas verdes da montanha. Quando chegaram ao pico sombreado que ele havia mostrado a eles, todos gritaram de admiração. Atrás deles, a rocha se erguia reta como um muro enorme, e depois se abria em penhascos suspensos. A cor cinza da rocha se destacava contra as plantas coloridas e as flores silvestres que cresciam nas fendas da pedra, e contra os pinheiros e cedros escuros mais acima. Abaixo, encostas íngremes desciam bruscamente até o vale, cobertas por arbustos alpinos densos. Mais abaixo ainda estavam as copas dos bosques de castanheiras, e entre elas dava para ver a cabana do pastor que tinham acabado de deixar, com fumaça azul subindo no ar. Ao redor deles estavam os grandes picos dos Pirineus. Alguns mostravam enormes penhascos de mármore, que mudavam de aparência conforme a luz mudava. Outros se erguiam ainda mais alto, mostrando apenas topos cobertos de neve, enquanto suas encostas mais baixas estavam cobertas por florestas de pinheiros, larícios e carvalhos que desciam até o vale. Este era um dos vales estreitos que se abrem dos Pirineus para o Rousillon. Seus campos verdes e sua beleza tranquila eram muito diferentes da paisagem selvagem das montanhas ao redor. Por uma abertura entre as montanhas, dava para ver as terras baixas do Rousillon, azuladas pela distância, unindo-se ao mar Mediterrâneo. Em um promontório na costa havia um farol solitário, com aves marinhas voando ao redor. Mais longe, de vez em quando aparecia uma vela, brilhando branca ao sol e se movendo em direção ao farol. Às vezes um navio estava tão distante que parecia apenas marcar a linha entre o céu e o mar.

En Do outro lado do vale, em frente ao lugar onde os viajantes descansavam, abria-se um caminho rochoso em direção à Gasconha. Não havia sinal de cultivo nem de vida. As rochas de granito se erguiam abruptamente e estendiam seus topos nus até as nuvens. Não havia bosques, nem sequer a cabana de um caçador. De vez em quando, um enorme larício lançava sua longa sombra sobre o penhasco, e aqui e ali havia uma cruz no topo de um penhasco, para avisar os viajantes sobre o destino daqueles que tinham passado por ali antes. O lugar parecia o esconderijo de bandidos. Emily olhou para baixo e quase esperava vê-los saindo de uma caverna escondida para caçar vítimas. Logo ela viu algo ainda mais assustador: uma forca em um ponto rochoso perto da entrada do desfiladeiro, bem acima de uma das cruzes que ela tinha notado antes. Esses sinais contavam uma história clara e terrível. Ela não os mostrou a St. Aubert, mas eles a deixaram inquieta e ansiosa para seguir em frente, para que pudessem chegar a Rousillon antes da noite. Ainda assim, St. Aubert precisava comer alguma coisa, então eles se sentaram na grama curta e seca e abriram a cesta de provisões, enquanto

En Brisas frescas passavam sobre eles, e cedros verdes balançavam acima de suas cabeças. Altas palmeiras erguiam sua sombra graciosa. Ali eles respiravam nova vida e bebiam o ar curativo vindo dos pinheirais e dos vales perfumados. Ao longe, podiam ouvir rios e cachoeiras correndo.

En O descanso e o ar calmo no topo reanimaram St. Aubert. Valancourt estava tão contente com tudo ao seu redor, e com a conversa de seus companheiros, que parecia esquecer que a viagem ainda não tinha terminado. Depois da refeição simples, eles deram uma última e longa olhada na paisagem e voltaram a subir. St. Aubert ficou feliz quando chegaram à carruagem, onde Emily se juntou a ele. Mas Valancourt queria uma vista mais ampla da bela região abaixo, então soltou seus cães e correu ao lado da estrada. Muitas vezes ele saía da estrada para ir a lugares que prometiam uma vista melhor, e como as mulas andavam devagar, ele conseguia alcançá-las facilmente. Quando via uma paisagem de grande beleza, corria para contar a St. Aubert. St. Aubert estava cansado demais para caminhar, mas às vezes mandava parar a carruagem enquanto Emily ia até o penhasco próximo.

En Era noite quando desceram dos Alpes menores que cercam Rousillon. Essas montanhas formam um grande muro ao redor dessa terra encantadora, deixando-a aberta apenas a leste, em direção ao Mediterrâneo. As cores vivas das fazendas tornavam a terra bonita outra vez. As terras baixas tinham as cores mais ricas, possíveis graças ao clima quente e ao trabalho duro das pessoas. Bosques de laranjeiras e limoeiros exalavam um cheiro doce, com frutas maduras brilhando entre as folhas. Vinhedos espalhavam seus tesouros pelas encostas. Além disso, bosques, campos, cidades e vilas se estendiam em direção ao mar. No mar brilhante, muitas velas reluziam ao longe. Sobre tudo isso havia uma luz roxa de entardecer. Essa vista, com os Alpes ao redor, era uma imagem perfeita do belo e do grandioso, da 'beleza adormecida no colo do horror.'

En Depois de chegarem às planícies, os viajantes passaram entre cercas vivas de murta florida e romãzeiras até a cidade de Arles, onde planejavam passar a noite. Encontraram quartos simples, mas arrumados, e teriam aproveitado uma noite feliz depois de um dia de viagem cansativa e prazerosa, se a separação que se aproximava não os tivesse deixado tristes. St. Aubert planejava ir no dia seguinte até a beira do Mediterrâneo e viajar ao longo da costa até o Languedoc. Valancourt, já quase recuperado e sem mais desculpa para continuar com seus novos amigos, decidiu se despedir deles ali. St. Aubert, que gostava muito dele, o convidou para ir mais longe, mas não insistiu de novo. Valancourt teve força de vontade suficiente para recusar o convite, para não parecer aceitar um favor sem merecê-lo. Na manhã seguinte eles se separariam: St. Aubert seguiria para o Languedoc, e Valancourt voltaria pelas montanhas, vendo novos lugares no caminho de casa. Naquela noite, ele ficou muitas vezes calado e pensativo. St. Aubert foi caloroso, mas sério com ele, e Emily estava triste, embora tentasse várias vezes parecer alegre. Depois de uma das noites mais tristes que tinham passado juntos, eles se despediram e se separaram.

Capítulo VI

En Não me importa, Fortuna, o que você me negar. Você não pode tirar a beleza da natureza livre. Você não pode fechar o céu, por onde o amanhecer mostra seu rosto luminoso. Você não pode impedir meus pés firmes de caminhar pelos bosques e campos, à beira do riacho vivo, ao entardecer. Que a saúde fortaleça meu corpo, e eu deixarei os prazeres vazios para os outros. A Fortuna não pode me tirar a imaginação, a razão ou a virtude.

En Pela manhã, Valancourt tomou café da manhã com St. Aubert e Emily, mas nenhum dos dois parecia bem descansado. St. Aubert ainda se sentia fraco por causa da doença, e Emily temia que ele estivesse piorando rapidamente. Ela observava o rosto dele com uma preocupação carinhosa, e seu próprio rosto sempre mostrava os mesmos sentimentos.

En Quando se conheceram, Valancourt tinha contado a eles seu nome e sua família. St. Aubert conhecia os dois, porque as terras da família de Valancourt ficavam a apenas cerca de vinte milhas de La Vallee, e ele já tinha encontrado o irmão mais velho de Valancourt algumas vezes em visitas por perto. Isso fez com que St. Aubert ficasse mais disposto a receber bem seu novo companheiro. De qualquer forma, a aparência e os modos de Valancourt já teriam agradado a ele, pois St. Aubert confiava em seu próprio julgamento sobre os rostos das pessoas. Mas ele não teria achado isso suficiente, sozinho, como apresentação para sua filha.

En O café da manhã foi quase tão silencioso quanto o jantar da noite anterior. Mas os pensamentos deles foram interrompidos pelo som das rodas de uma carruagem. A carruagem estava ali para levar St. Aubert e Emily embora. Valancourt se levantou na hora e foi até a janela. Ele viu que era verdade e se sentou novamente sem dizer nada. Havia chegado a hora de se separarem. St. Aubert disse a Valancourt que esperava que ele nunca passasse por La Vallee sem visitá-lo. Valancourt agradeceu com carinho e prometeu que nunca faria isso. Ao dizer isso, olhou nervosamente para Emily, que tentava esconder sua tristeza com um sorriso. Eles conversaram por mais alguns minutos, e então St. Aubert seguiu na frente até a carruagem. Emily e Valancourt o seguiram em silêncio. Valancourt ficou parado na porta por vários minutos depois que eles se sentaram, e nenhum deles conseguia se despedir. Por fim, St. Aubert disse a triste palavra, Emily a repetiu para Valancourt, e ele respondeu com um sorriso triste. Então a carruagem partiu.

En Os viajantes ficaram um tempo em silêncio, pensativos, e isso não era desagradável. St. Aubert quebrou o silêncio e disse: 'Este é um jovem muito promissor. Faz muitos anos que não fico tão satisfeito com alguém depois de um encontro tão curto. Ele me faz lembrar da minha juventude, quando tudo era novo e maravilhoso!' St. Aubert suspirou e voltou a ficar pensativo. Emily olhou para trás, na estrada que tinham percorrido, e viu Valancourt na porta da pequena estalagem, observando-os. Ele também a viu e acenou. Ela acenou de volta até que a curva da estrada o escondesse de sua vista.

En 'Eu me lembro de quando eu tinha mais ou menos a idade dele,' disse St. Aubert novamente. 'Eu pensava e sentia exatamente como ele. Naquela época, o mundo estava se abrindo para mim. Agora está se fechando.'

En 'Meu caro senhor, não pense de forma tão triste,' disse Emily com a voz trêmula. 'Espero que o senhor viva muitos e muitos anos, pelo seu próprio bem, e pelo meu.'

En 'Ah, minha Emily!' respondeu St. Aubert. 'Pelo seu bem! Bom, espero que sim.' Ele enxugou uma lágrima do rosto, sorriu e disse com carinho: 'Há algo muito agradável na energia e na honestidade da juventude, quando um homem velho ainda não foi endurecido pelo mundo. É algo alegre e renovador, como ver a primavera depois de uma doença. A mente sente um pouco do espírito dessa estação, e os olhos ganham um pouco de sol. Valancourt é essa primavera para mim.'

En Emily apertou a mão do pai com carinho. Ela nunca tinha gostado tanto de ouvi-lo elogiar alguém, nem mesmo quando ele a elogiava.

En Eles seguiram viagem por vinhedos, bosques e campos, aproveitando a bela e romântica paisagem. De um lado ficavam os Pirineus, e do outro, o oceano. Pouco depois do meio-dia, chegaram a Colioure, uma cidade no Mediterrâneo. Almoçaram ali e descansaram até mais tarde, quando o dia esfriou um pouco. Depois continuaram pela costa em direção ao Languedoc. Emily olhava o mar imenso com grande entusiasmo, observando como sua superfície mudava com a luz e a sombra, e como as margens arborizadas ficavam mais suaves com as cores do outono.

En St. Aubert estava ansioso para chegar a Perpignan, onde esperava receber cartas de M. Quesnel. Essa esperança o fez deixar Colioure, mesmo que seu corpo fraco precisasse descansar imediatamente. Depois de percorrerem algumas milhas, ele adormeceu. Emily tinha colocado dois ou três livros na carruagem quando saíram de La Vallee, então agora tinha tempo para lê-los. Ela procurou o livro que Valancourt estivera lendo no dia anterior, na esperança de ler as páginas que os olhos dele tinham acabado de percorrer, de pensar nas linhas que ele tinha admirado, e de sentir como se os pensamentos dele estivessem falando com ela através delas. Mas ela não conseguiu encontrar esse livro. Em vez disso, viu um volume de poemas de Petrarca que tinha pertencido a Valancourt. O nome dele estava escrito ali, e ele tinha lido trechos daquele livro para ela várias vezes, com muito sentimento. No início, ela não acreditou que ele tivesse deixado esse livro de propósito, no lugar do que ela havia perdido, como se o amor tivesse guiado a troca. Mas quando o abriu ansiosamente e viu as marcas de lápis ao lado das passagens que ele tinha lido em voz alta, e de outras que mostravam uma ternura que ele não tinha ousado dizer abertamente, ela entendeu. Por um momento, ela soube apenas que era amada. Depois se lembrou das muitas formas como ele falava e olhava ao ler aqueles sonetos, e do sentimento forte em sua voz. Ela chorou diante desse sinal do amor dele.

En Eles chegaram a Perpignan pouco depois do pôr do sol. Lá, St. Aubert encontrou as cartas de M. Quesnel que esperava. O conteúdo delas claramente o perturbou tão profundamente que Emily ficou assustada. Ela perguntou a ele, com delicadeza, o que estava errado, tanto quanto conseguia fazer sem parecer atrevida. Mas ele só respondeu com lágrimas e mudou de assunto rapidamente. Emily não insistiu mais, embora estivesse muito perturbada com o jeito dele, e passou a noite acordada e ansiosa.

En Pela manhã, continuaram viajando pela costa em direção a Leucate, outra cidade no Mediterrâneo, perto da fronteira entre o Languedoc e Rousillon. No caminho, Emily voltou a falar sobre a noite anterior e ficou tão perturbada com o silêncio e a tristeza de St. Aubert que ele finalmente cedeu. 'Minha querida Emily,' disse ele, 'eu não queria estragar o seu prazer com essas belas paisagens. Por isso pretendia esconder algumas coisas por enquanto, embora você precise sabê-las com o tempo. Mas a sua preocupação mudou esse plano. Você sofre quase tanto esperando quanto sofreria ouvindo a verdade. A visita de M. Quesnel trouxe más notícias. Ele veio me contar parte do que agora já foi confirmado. Você deve ter me ouvido mencionar M. Motteville, de Paris, mas não sabia que a maior parte dos meus bens estava sob os cuidados dele. Eu confiava muito nele, e ainda quero acreditar que ele não é totalmente indigno do meu respeito. Muitas coisas aconteceram que o arruinaram, e junto com ele, eu também estou arruinado.'

En St. Aubert parou por um momento para conseguir esconder seus sentimentos.

En "As cartas que acabei de receber de M. Quesnel," ele disse, tentando falar com calma, "continham outras cartas de Motteville, e elas confirmaram todos os meus temores."

En "Então precisamos deixar La Vallee?" perguntou Emily depois de um longo silêncio. "Isso ainda não é certo," respondeu St. Aubert. "Vai depender do acordo que Motteville conseguir fazer com seus credores. Você sabe que minha renda nunca foi grande, e agora vai ser muito pequena. Sinto muito por você, Emily, minha filha." Sua voz tremeu. Emily sorriu para ele através das lágrimas. Depois tentou controlar seus sentimentos e disse: "Meu querido pai, não sofra por mim nem por si mesmo. Ainda podemos ser felizes. Se La Vallee continuar sendo nossa, temos que ser felizes. Vamos manter apenas um criado, e o senhor quase não vai notar a mudança na sua renda. Fique tranquilo, meu caro senhor. Não vamos sentir falta dos luxos que os outros tanto valorizam, porque nunca nos importamos com eles. E a pobreza não pode nos tirar muitas coisas. Ela não pode tirar o amor que sentimos um pelo outro, nem nos diminuir aos nossos próprios olhos, nem aos olhos de quem realmente importa."

En St. Aubert escondeu o rosto com o lenço e não conseguiu falar. Mas Emily continuou lembrando o pai das verdades que ele mesmo tinha lhe ensinado.

En 'Além disso, meu caro senhor, a pobreza não pode tirar os prazeres da mente. Ela não pode impedir que o senhor me dê exemplos de força e bondade. Não pode me impedir de confortar um pai querido. Não pode destruir nosso amor pelas coisas grandiosas e belas da natureza. Essas vistas maravilhosas são gratuitas para todos, ricos ou pobres. Então do que temos que reclamar, enquanto tivermos o que precisamos? Os prazeres que o dinheiro não pode comprar ainda serão nossos. Continuamos com as grandes alegrias da natureza e perdemos apenas as sem importância, criadas pelos seres humanos.'

En St. Aubert não conseguiu responder. Ele abraçou Emily, e as lágrimas dos dois caíram juntas, mas não eram lágrimas de tristeza. Depois de palavras tão sinceras, qualquer outra coisa pareceria fraca demais, então ficaram em silêncio por um tempo. Depois St. Aubert voltou a falar como antes. Sua mente ainda não tinha recuperado toda a paz, mas ao menos ele parecia calmo.

En Chegaram à bela cidade de Leucate cedo, mas St. Aubert estava cansado, então decidiram passar a noite ali. À noite, ele fez um esforço para caminhar com Emily e observar a paisagem ao redor, que dava vista para o lago de Leucate, o Mediterrâneo, parte de Rousillon, os Pirineus, e uma grande extensão do rico Languedoc, agora vermelho com uvas maduras que os camponeses começavam a colher. St. Aubert e Emily observavam os trabalhadores ocupados, ouviam as canções alegres levadas pelo vento, e aguardavam com prazer a viagem do dia seguinte por essa terra animada. Mesmo assim, ele planejava continuar viajando ao longo da costa. Em parte, ele queria voltar para casa logo, mas escolheu continuar para dar mais prazer a Emily e ver se o ar do mar ajudaria sua doença.

En No dia seguinte, continuaram a viagem pelo Languedoc, ao longo da costa do Mediterrâneo. Os Pirineus ainda se erguiam atrás deles numa vista grandiosa, enquanto o oceano ficava à direita e amplas planícies se estendiam à esquerda, até desaparecerem na distância azulada. St. Aubert estava satisfeito e conversava bastante com Emily. Mas às vezes sua alegria parecia forçada, e às vezes a tristeza aparecia em seu rosto. O sorriso de Emily logo a afastava, mas o coração dela mesma doía, porque ela via que os problemas do pai estavam prejudicando tanto sua mente quanto seu corpo fraco.

En Era noite quando chegaram a uma pequena vila no alto Languedoc, onde pretendiam passar a noite. Mas não havia camas disponíveis para eles, porque também era a época da colheita. Por isso tiveram que seguir até a próxima estação de parada. St. Aubert se sentia fraco e cansado e precisava descansar imediatamente, mas já era tarde, e não havia escolha. Ele disse a Michael para continuar.

En As ricas planícies do Languedoc, cheias da alegria da colheita e da animação de uma festa francesa, já não davam mais prazer a St. Aubert. Sua condição triste contrastava dolorosamente com a felicidade e a beleza jovem ao seu redor. Enquanto seus olhos cansados observavam a paisagem, ele pensou que em breve talvez se fechassem para sempre para este mundo. "Aquelas montanhas distantes e nobres," disse a si mesmo, olhando para a linha dos Pirineus a oeste, "estas planícies ricas, este céu azul, esta luz clara do dia, tudo isso vai desaparecer dos meus olhos! A canção do camponês, a voz alegre dos seres humanos, não vão mais soar para mim!"

En Emily parecia entender os pensamentos do pai pelos olhos dele. Ela olhou para ele com tanta piedade e ternura que ele esqueceu seu próprio pesar e pensou apenas em deixar a filha desprotegida. Isso tornou sua dor ainda mais forte. Ele suspirou profundamente e não disse nada. Ela pareceu entender o suspiro. Apertou a mão dele com carinho, depois se virou para a janela para esconder as lágrimas. O sol lançou uma última luz amarela sobre as ondas do Mediterrâneo, e a escuridão da noite logo cobriu a paisagem. Só restava um brilho triste no horizonte a oeste, mostrando onde o sol tinha se posto por trás da névoa de outono. Uma brisa fresca vinha da costa, e Emily abaixou a janela. Mas o ar fresco era bom para a saúde e ruim para a doença, então St. Aubert pediu que a janela fosse fechada de novo. Sua doença estava piorando, e ele estava mais ansioso do que nunca para terminar a viagem do dia. Ele parou o condutor das mulas e perguntou quanto faltava até a próxima parada. A resposta foi nove milhas. St. Aubert disse que não conseguiria ir muito mais longe e pediu a Michael que procurasse alguma casa na estrada onde pudessem passar a noite. Ele se recostou na carruagem, e Michael estalou o chicote e seguiu em disparada, até que St. Aubert, quase desmaiando, mandou que parasse. Emily olhou pela janela, ansiosa, e viu um camponês a certa distância na estrada. Eles o esperaram e perguntaram se havia alguma casa por perto para viajantes. Ele disse que não conhecia nenhuma. Mencionou um castelo nos bosques à direita, mas disse que provavelmente não recebia hóspedes e que ele não podia guiá-los, pois quase não conhecia aquele lugar. St. Aubert quis perguntar mais sobre o castelo, mas o homem seguiu rapidamente seu caminho. Depois de pensar um momento, St. Aubert disse a Michael para seguir devagar em direção aos bosques. O crepúsculo escurecia a cada minuto, e ficava cada vez mais difícil encontrar a estrada. Logo outro camponês passou. Michael gritou, perguntando o caminho para o castelo nos bosques.

En 'O castelo nos bosques!' exclamou o camponês. 'Você quer dizer aquele com a torre lá longe?'

En 'Não sei nada sobre essa torre que você diz,' respondeu Michael. 'Estou falando daquele prédio branco que a gente vê ao longe, entre as árvores.'

En 'Sim, essa é a torre. Mas quem são vocês, e por que estão indo para lá?' perguntou o homem, surpreso.

En Ao ouvir essa pergunta estranha, dita de um jeito esquisito, St. Aubert olhou para fora da carruagem. 'Somos viajantes,' disse ele. 'Estamos procurando um lugar para passar a noite. Há algum por aqui?'

En 'Nenhum, Monsieur, a não ser que queiram tentar a sorte lá,' respondeu o camponês, apontando para os bosques. 'Mas eu não aconselharia vocês a ir.'

En 'A quem pertence o castelo?'

En 'Eu mesmo quase não sei, Monsieur.'

En 'Então está vazio?' 'Não, não está vazio. Acredito que o administrador e a governanta estão lá.'

En Ao ouvir isso, St. Aubert decidiu ir até o castelo e arriscar ser recusado como hóspede para a noite. Pediu ao camponês que mostrasse o caminho a Michael e prometeu uma recompensa pelo trabalho. Por um momento, o homem não disse nada. Depois disse que tinha outros afazeres, mas que não teriam como errar o caminho se pegassem a alameda à direita, que ele apontou. St. Aubert estava prestes a falar, mas o camponês desejou boa noite e foi embora.

En A carruagem seguiu em direção à alameda. Um portão a guardava. Michael desceu para abri-lo. Depois entraram entre velhos carvalhos e castanheiras. Os galhos formavam um arco alto por cima. A alameda parecia sombria e abandonada. Estava muito silenciosa. Emily quase tremeu enquanto avançavam. Ela se lembrou do que o camponês tinha dito sobre o castelo. Deu às palavras dele um sentido misterioso, algo que não tinha pensado quando ele falou. Ela tentou controlar seus medos. Achava que vinham de sua imaginação abatida. A situação de seu pai, e a dela própria, faziam com que sentisse cada impressão com muita força.

En Eles seguiram devagar, pois já estava quase escuro. O chão era irregular, e raízes velhas de árvores saíam da terra, então precisavam ter cuidado. De repente, Michael parou a carruagem. St. Aubert olhou pela janela para perguntar por quê e viu uma figura se movendo pela alameda, a certa distância. A luz era fraca demais para saber quem era, mas ele disse a Michael para continuar.

En "Este lugar parece bem selvagem," disse Michael. "Não há casa nenhuma por perto. Sua excelência não acha melhor voltarmos?"

En "Vá um pouco mais adiante, e se ainda assim não virmos nenhuma casa, voltaremos para a estrada," respondeu St. Aubert.

En Michael continuou a contragosto, e foi tão devagar que St. Aubert olhou de novo pela janela e viu a mesma figura. Ficou um pouco assustado, talvez porque o lugar fosse tão sombrio. Então mandou Michael parar e gritar para a pessoa na alameda.

En "Com todo respeito, sua excelência, ele pode ser um ladrão," disse Michael. "Isso não me agrada nada," respondeu St. Aubert, sorrindo com as palavras simples de Michael. "Então vamos voltar para a estrada, porque há pouca chance de encontrarmos aqui o que procuramos."

En Michael virou a carruagem na hora e apressou-se para voltar, quando uma voz foi ouvida entre as árvores à esquerda. Não era uma voz de comando nem de sofrimento, mas um som profundo e oco, que parecia quase não humano. Michael chicoteou as mulas e as fez correr o mais rápido que pôde, sem se importar com a escuridão, o terreno irregular, ou a segurança dos outros. Só parou quando chegaram ao portão que ligava a alameda à estrada principal, onde diminuiu a velocidade.

En "Estou muito mal," disse St. Aubert, segurando a mão de Emily. "Então o senhor está pior!" gritou Emily, muito assustada com o jeito dele. "O senhor está pior, e não há ajuda aqui. O que vamos fazer?" Ele apoiou a cabeça no ombro dela, e ela tentou sustentá-lo com o braço. Michael foi mandado parar de novo. Quando o som das rodas cessou, ouviu-se música no ar. Para Emily, aquilo soou como esperança. "Ah, estamos perto de alguma casa!" disse ela. "Podemos encontrar ajuda logo."

En Ela escutou, ansiosa. A música vinha de longe e parecia sair de dentro dos bosques, perto da estrada. Olhando naquela direção, ela viu algo parecido com um castelo sob o luar pálido. Mas era difícil chegar até lá. St. Aubert estava mal demais para suportar o movimento da carruagem, Michael não podia deixar as mulas, e Emily não ousava deixar o pai sozinho, nem ir sozinha a um lugar desconhecido. Ela precisava decidir rápido. St. Aubert disse a Michael para seguir devagar, mas depois de pouca distância ele desmaiou, e a carruagem parou de novo. Ele ficou desacordado. "Meu querido pai!" gritou Emily, com um medo terrível. "Fale, nem que seja só uma palavra!" Mas não houve resposta. Ela mandou Michael buscar água num riacho perto da estrada. Usando o chapéu dele, jogou água no rosto do pai, que agora parecia pálido como a morte sob o luar. Seu medo por si mesma desapareceu, e ela deixou St. Aubert com Michael, que não se afastaria muito das mulas. Depois desceu da carruagem para procurar o castelo que tinha visto. A noite estava parada, e a música a guiou da estrada por uma trilha escura, para dentro dos bosques. No começo, ela só pensava no pai, mas quando as árvores ficaram mais densas e bloquearam o luar, e o lugar pareceu mais selvagem, ela entendeu o quanto sua situação era perigosa. A música tinha parado, e ela não tinha guia nenhum. Parou, com medo, mas seguiu em frente por causa do estado do pai. A trilha terminava nos bosques, mas ela não via casa nem pessoa alguma, e não ouvia nada que a guiasse. Continuou andando, evitando as partes mais fechadas da floresta e ficando perto da borda, até que uma alameda rústica, que se abria para um lugar iluminado pela lua, chamou sua atenção. O aspecto selvagem lembrou a ela a alameda que levava ao castelo com a torre, e ela achou que aquilo podia fazer parte da mesma propriedade. Enquanto se perguntava se deveria segui-la, vozes altas e risadas alegres explodiram no ar. Não pareciam felizes, mas selvagens e barulhentas, e ela ficou parada, alarmada. Então ouviu uma voz chamando, vinda do caminho por onde tinha vindo. Pensando que fosse Michael, quis correr de volta. Mas então lembrou que Michael não deixaria as mulas a não ser que fosse forçado a isso, e, temendo que o pai estivesse morrendo, correu para frente, na esperança de conseguir ajuda das pessoas nos bosques. Seu coração batia forte enquanto se aproximava das vozes, e ela se assustava com o som das folhas sob seus pés. As vozes a levaram até uma clareira iluminada pela lua. Ali, entre os troncos das árvores, ela viu um pequeno espaço redondo de grama verde, cercado por bosques, com um grupo de pessoas nele. Ao se aproximar, viu que eram camponeses, e notou várias cabanas ao redor da borda da floresta. Enquanto ainda estava assustada e insegura, algumas moças camponesas saíram de uma cabana. A música começou na hora, e a dança teve início. Era a mesma música alegre da colheita que ela tinha ouvido antes. Mas Emily estava preocupada demais com o pai para notar o contraste entre essa cena feliz e sua própria dor. Correu até um grupo de camponeses mais velhos sentados perto da porta de uma cabana, explicou seu problema e pediu ajuda. Vários deles se levantaram rapidamente, ofereceram a ajuda que podiam e seguiram Emily o mais rápido possível de volta para a estrada.

En Quando ela voltou para a carruagem, encontrou St. Aubert acordado de novo. Depois de se recuperar, ele soube por Michael para onde Emily tinha ido, e sua preocupação com ela ficou mais forte do que a preocupação com ele mesmo. Ele tinha mandado Michael procurá-la. Ainda estava fraco e sabia que não podia viajar muito mais longe. Então voltou a perguntar sobre uma estalagem e sobre o castelo nos bosques. "O castelo não pode recebê-lo, senhor," disse um camponês idoso que tinha seguido Emily desde os bosques. "Quase ninguém mora lá. Mas se o senhor me der a honra de vir até minha cabana, será bem-vindo à melhor cama que eu tenho."

En St. Aubert era francês, então a cortesia francesa não o surpreendia. Mas ele estava doente, e se sentiu ainda mais grato pelo jeito gentil com que a oferta foi feita. Era educado demais para se desculpar ou fingir hesitação, então aceitou a hospitalidade do camponês na hora, com a mesma sinceridade com que ela foi oferecida.

En A carruagem seguiu devagar de novo. Michael acompanhou os camponeses pela trilha que Emily tinha acabado de deixar, até chegarem a uma clareira iluminada pela lua. St. Aubert se sentia muito melhor por causa da gentileza de seu anfitrião e da esperança de descansar. Ele observava com prazer tranquilo os bosques ao luar, onde aberturas entre as árvores deixavam entrar luz clara e mostravam uma cabana ou um riacho brilhante. Ouvia sem incômodo o violão animado e o pandeiro. Quando viu a dança alegre dos camponeses, lágrimas vieram a seus olhos, mas não eram só lágrimas de tristeza. Emily sentia algo diferente. Seu primeiro medo pelo pai já tinha passado, e agora ela sentia apenas uma tristeza suave, que ficava mais forte a cada som alegre ao redor.

En A dança parou quando a carruagem se aproximou, o que era incomum naqueles bosques tranquilos, e os moradores se reuniram ao redor dela com grande curiosidade. Quando souberam que ela trazia um estranho doente, várias moças correram pela grama e voltaram com vinho e cestas de uvas. Deram tudo aos viajantes, cada uma querendo ser a mais gentil. Por fim, a carruagem parou numa cabana arrumada. O homem idoso que os guiava ajudou St. Aubert a descer e depois o levou, junto com Emily, a um pequeno cômodo interno iluminado apenas pelo luar que entrava pela janela aberta. St. Aubert se sentou, feliz por descansar, respirando o ar fresco e doce e o cheiro de madressilva. O anfitrião deles, chamado La Voisin, saiu do cômodo e logo voltou com frutas, creme, e a melhor comida do campo que sua cabana podia oferecer. Colocou tudo na mesa com um sorriso caloroso e ficou de pé atrás da cadeira do convidado. St. Aubert o convidou para se sentar à mesa, e depois que as frutas aliviaram sua febre e ele se sentiu melhor, começou a conversar com ele. La Voisin falou abertamente sobre si mesmo e sua família, e suas palavras mostravam verdadeiro amor e bondade familiar. Emily se sentou ao lado do pai, segurando sua mão, e enquanto ouvia, sentia o coração se encher de compaixão. Ela também chorou, porque pensava que a morte logo levaria embora a bênção mais querida que tinha. O luar suave da noite de outono e a música triste ao longe a deixavam ainda mais melancólica. La Voisin continuou falando sobre a família, enquanto St. Aubert ficava em silêncio. Ele disse que só uma filha ainda estava viva, mas que ela era feliz no casamento e significava tudo para ele. Depois que a esposa morreu, ele foi morar com Agnes e a família dela. Ela tinha vários filhos, e todos estavam dançando no gramado ali perto. Ele esperava que continuassem felizes, e esperava morrer entre eles. Sabia que era velho e não viveria muito, mas encontrava consolo na ideia de morrer cercado pelos filhos.

En 'Meu bom amigo,' disse St. Aubert com a voz trêmula, 'espero que o senhor viva muito tempo com eles.'

En 'Ah, senhor! Na minha idade, não devo ter essa esperança,' respondeu o velho. Ele fez uma pausa. 'Mal posso desejar isso. Confio que vou para o céu, onde está minha esposa. Às vezes acho que a vejo numa noite tranquila de luar, andando por esses bosques que ela amava. O senhor acredita que podemos voltar à terra depois de morrer?'

En Emily não conseguiu mais segurar o choro. As lágrimas caíam rápido sobre a mão do pai, que ela ainda segurava. Ele tentou falar e por fim disse, baixinho: "Espero que possamos olhar para os que deixamos na terra, mas só posso ter essa esperança. O futuro é escondido de nós, e a fé e a esperança são nossos únicos guias. Não nos foi dito que os espíritos cuidam dos amigos que amaram, mas podemos ter essa esperança com segurança. Eu nunca vou abandoná-la," disse ele, enxugando as lágrimas dos olhos de Emily. "Isso vai suavizar os momentos amargos da morte." Lágrimas escorriam devagar pelo rosto dele. La Voisin também chorou, e houve um silêncio. Depois La Voisin disse de novo: "Mas o senhor acredita, então, que vamos encontrar em outro mundo a família que amamos neste? Eu preciso acreditar nisso." "Então acredite," respondeu St. Aubert. "A dor da separação seria enorme se achássemos que ela dura para sempre. Olhe para cima, minha querida Emily, vamos nos encontrar de novo!" Ele levantou os olhos para o céu, e o luar em seu rosto mostrava paz e calma tomando conta de sua tristeza.

En La Voisin sentiu que tinha falado demais sobre aquilo, então mudou de assunto e disse: "Está escuro. Esqueci de trazer uma luz."

En 'Não,' disse St. Aubert, 'eu gosto dessa luz. Sente-se, meu amigo. Emily, minha querida, estou me sentindo melhor do que o dia todo. Esse ar me revigora. Estou gostando dessa hora tranquila e da música que flutua tão bem ao longe. Deixe-me ver você sorrir. Quem toca o violão tão bem? São dois instrumentos, ou é um eco?'

En "Acho que é um eco, monsieur. Esse violão é ouvido com frequência à noite, quando tudo está parado, mas ninguém sabe quem toca. Às vezes uma voz se junta a ele, tão doce e triste que a gente pensaria que os bosques são mal-assombrados." "Com certeza são mal-assombrados," disse St. Aubert com um sorriso. "Mas acredito que por gente viva." "Já ouvi isso à meia-noite, quando não conseguia dormir," disse La Voisin, como se não tivesse percebido a piada. "Chegou quase debaixo da minha janela, e nunca ouvi música assim. Muitas vezes me lembrou da minha pobre esposa, a ponto de eu chorar. Fui até a janela para ver se conseguia encontrar alguém, mas assim que abri, tudo ficou em silêncio e não havia ninguém. Já escutei tanto tempo que até o farfalhar das folhas ao vento me assustou. Dizem que essa música avisa sobre a morte, mas eu a ouço há muitos anos e já vivi além do aviso."

En Emily sorriu com essa superstição boba, mas, como já estava triste, não conseguiu se livrar totalmente do medo que aquilo trazia.

En "Bem, meu bom amigo," disse St. Aubert, "ninguém teve coragem de seguir os sons? Se tivessem seguido, talvez tivessem encontrado o músico." "Sim, senhor, seguiram um pouco pelos bosques. Mas a música continuava se afastando e soava tão distante quanto antes. No fim, as pessoas tiveram medo de que aquilo as levasse a algum perigo, então não foram mais longe. É muito raro eu ouvir esses sons tão cedo à noite. Normalmente eles vêm à meia-noite, quando aquele planeta brilhante acima da torre ali se põe atrás dos bosques à esquerda."

En "Que torre?" perguntou St. Aubert rapidamente. "Não vejo nenhuma."

En "Perdão, monsieur, mas o senhor vê sim. A lua brilha bem em cima dela. Fica lá em cima da alameda, bem longe. O castelo a que ela pertence está escondido entre as árvores."

En "Sim, meu caro senhor," disse Emily, apontando, "o senhor não vê algo brilhando acima dos bosques escuros? Acho que é um templo tocado pelo luar."

En "Ah sim, entendo o que você quer dizer. E a quem pertence o castelo?"

En "O Marquês de Villeroi era o dono," respondeu La Voisin com firmeza.

En "Ah!" disse St. Aubert com um suspiro profundo. "Então estamos tão perto de Le-Blanc!" Ele parecia muito perturbado.

En "Costumava ser o lugar favorito do Marquês," disse La Voisin. "Mas ele passou a não gostar mais do lugar e não vem aqui há muitos anos. Soubemos recentemente que ele morreu, e que o castelo passou para outras mãos." St. Aubert estava sentado, perdido em pensamentos, mas as últimas palavras o despertaram. "Morreu!" exclamou ele. "Meu Deus! Quando ele morreu?"

En "Dizem que ele morreu há cerca de cinco semanas," respondeu La Voisin. "O senhor conhecia o Marquês?"

En "Isso é muito estranho!" disse St. Aubert, e não respondeu à pergunta. "Por que isso, meu caro senhor?" perguntou Emily com a voz suave, tomada por um medo curioso. Ele não respondeu, e voltou a ficar pensativo. Alguns instantes depois, quando parecia mais calmo, perguntou quem tinha recebido as propriedades. "Esqueci o título dele, monsieur," disse La Voisin, "mas meu senhor vive principalmente em Paris. Não ouvi dizer que ele pretenda vir para cá."

En "Então o castelo continua fechado?"

En "Sim, senhor, mais ou menos. A governanta idosa e o marido dela, o administrador, cuidam dele, mas normalmente vivem numa cabana perto dali."

En "O castelo deve ser grande," disse Emily, "e deve ser bem solitário quando só duas pessoas moram nele."

En "Solitário o bastante, mademoiselle," respondeu La Voisin. "Eu não passaria uma única noite no castelo nem por todas as terras ao redor."

En "O que foi isso?" disse St. Aubert, saindo de novo de seus pensamentos. Quando o anfitrião repetiu as últimas palavras, St. Aubert soltou um gemido. Depois, como se não quisesse que percebessem, perguntou rapidamente a La Voisin há quanto tempo ele morava naquela região. "Quase desde criança, senhor," respondeu o anfitrião.

En "Então o senhor se lembra da falecida marquesa?" disse St. Aubert, com a voz mudada.

En "Ah, monsieur, lembro sim. Muitos outros também se lembram dela."

En "Sim," disse St. Aubert, "e eu sou um deles."

En "Ah, senhor! Então o senhor se lembra de uma dama belíssima e muito boa. Ela merecia um destino melhor."

En Lágrimas vieram aos olhos de St. Aubert. "Basta," disse ele, com a voz quase sufocada pela emoção. "Já chega, meu amigo."

En Emily ficou muito surpresa com o jeito do pai, mas não fez perguntas. La Voisin começou a se desculpar, mas St. Aubert o interrompeu. "Não precisa se desculpar," disse ele. "Vamos mudar de assunto. Você estava falando sobre a música que acabamos de ouvir."

En "Estava sim, monsieur. Mas escute! Ela está voltando de novo. Escutem essa voz!" Todos ficaram em silêncio.

En Por fim, um som suave e solene se ergueu no ar. Era como uma corrente de perfume rico. Movia-se pelo silêncio de forma tão delicada que o próprio Silêncio parecia sentir que seu lugar tinha sido tomado.

En Depois de alguns instantes, a voz se apagou, e o instrumento que tinham ouvido antes soou em uma harmonia baixa. St. Aubert disse que o som era mais cheio e mais bonito do que o de um violão, e ainda mais triste e suave do que o de um alaúde. Eles escutaram, mas os sons não voltaram. "Isso é estranho!" disse St. Aubert por fim. "Muito estranho!" disse Emily. "É mesmo," respondeu La Voisin. Depois ficaram em silêncio de novo.

En Depois de uma longa pausa, La Voisin disse: "Faz uns dezoito anos que ouvi essa música pela primeira vez. Lembro que era uma bela noite de verão, como esta, mas mais tarde. Eu estava andando pelos bosques, sozinho. Estava muito triste porque um dos meus meninos estava doente. Eu tinha ficado cuidando dele a noite toda enquanto a mãe dormia. Saí para tomar um ar fresco. Enquanto andava, ouvi música ao longe. Pensei que fosse Claude tocando sua flauta. Mas quando cheguei a um lugar aberto e olhei para a aurora boreal, de repente ouvi uns sons desses! Não consigo descrevê-los. Era como música de anjos. Olhei para cima, quase esperando ver anjos no céu. Quando cheguei em casa, contei a todos, mas riram de mim. Disseram que devia ser pastores tocando flauta. Não consegui convencê-los do contrário. Algumas noites depois, minha esposa ouviu os mesmos sons e ficou muito surpresa. O Padre Denis a assustou dizendo que a música avisava sobre a morte do nosso filho, e que essa música costuma aparecer em casas onde alguém está morrendo."

En Ao ouvir isso, Emily sentiu um medo supersticioso como nunca tinha sentido antes. Ela mal conseguia esconder de St. Aubert o quanto estava perturbada.

En "Mas o menino sobreviveu, monsieur, apesar do Padre Denis."

En "Padre Denis!" disse St. Aubert, que tinha escutado pacientemente a história do velho. "Então estamos perto de um convento?"

En "Sim, senhor. O convento de St. Clair não fica longe, na beira do mar, ali."

En "Ah!" disse St. Aubert, como se tivesse se lembrado de repente de algo. "O convento de St. Clair!" Emily viu a tristeza e um pouco de medo se juntarem no rosto dele. Sua expressão ficou imóvel, e ao luar ele parecia uma daquelas estátuas de mármore sobre um túmulo, curvada em dor sem esperança sobre as cinzas dos mortos.

En na luz suave que a lua fraca lança através das janelas pintadas. *The Emigrants.

En Emily disse: 'Mas, meu caro senhor, o senhor precisa descansar. Se nosso anfitrião permitir, eu mesma vou arrumar sua cama. Sei como o senhor gosta.' St. Aubert sorriu e disse que ela não devia se cansar. La Voisin tinha ficado pensando em sua própria história, mas agora se levantou e pediu desculpas por não ter chamado Agnes. Depois saiu apressado.

En Poucos instantes depois, ele voltou com sua filha, uma jovem de rosto agradável. Emily então soube de algo que não sabia antes. Para abrir espaço para eles, parte da família de La Voisin teve que abrir mão de suas camas. Ela ficou incomodada com isso, mas Agnes mostrou, pela resposta que deu, que tinha ao menos um pouco da hospitalidade gentil e educada do pai. Ficou combinado que alguns dos filhos dela e Michael dormiriam na cabana vizinha.

En St. Aubert disse: 'Se eu me sentir melhor amanhã, quero sair cedo. Vamos descansar durante a parte mais quente do dia e viajar para casa. Não consigo aproveitar uma viagem mais longa agora, e quero chegar a La Vallee.' Emily também queria ir para casa, mas ficou triste porque o pai queria voltar tão de repente. Ela achou que ele estava mais doente do que dizia. St. Aubert foi deitar, e Emily foi para seu pequeno quarto, mas não conseguiu dormir. Ficou pensando na conversa sobre espíritos depois da morte. Temia que o pai morresse em breve. Encostou-se na janela e olhou para o céu cheio de estrelas. Pensou em Deus e no futuro. Tudo estava quieto. A dança tinha parado, e todos já estavam em casa. O ar estava parado. Ela só ouvia o sino de uma ovelha ou uma janela se fechando. Depois até esses sons pararam. Ficou na janela, tomada de emoção, até a meia-noite. O planeta que La Voisin tinha apontado desapareceu atrás das árvores. Ela se lembrou do que ele tinha dito sobre o planeta e a música misteriosa. Esperava e ao mesmo tempo temia que a música voltasse. Pensou em como o pai tinha reagido com tanta força à morte do Marquês La Villeroi e ao destino da Marquesa. Ficou muito curiosa, porque nunca o tinha ouvido mencionar o nome Villeroi antes.

En Nenhuma música atravessou a noite silenciosa. Emily percebeu como estava tarde, lembrou que precisava se levantar cedo, e deixou a janela para descansar depois de um dia tão longo.

Capítulo VII

En Que lamentem seu destino aqueles cuja esperança permanece baixa nesta vida sombria. Mas os corações nobres podem olhar além da sepultura, podem sorrir para o destino e se perguntar por que os outros choram. A Primavera nunca vai voltar a esses lugares tristes? Será que aquela onda é o último lugar de descanso do sol? Logo o leste vai brilhar de novo com luz nova, e a Primavera logo vai dar vida outra vez, encher o bosque de som e vestir o prado de beleza! BEATTIE

En Emily acordou cedo, como tinha pedido para ser chamada. O sono não a tinha revigorado, porque sonhos perturbadores a haviam incomodado. Mas quando abriu a janela e viu os bosques brilhando sob o sol da manhã, e respirou o ar fresco, sentiu-se mais calma. A manhã estava cheia de uma frescura luminosa que parecia a própria saúde. Ela só ouvia sons agradáveis e bonitos: o sino matinal de um convento distante, o som suave do mar, pássaros cantando, e o gado se movendo devagar entre as árvores. A cena a deixou pensativa e tranquila. Ela ficou encostada na janela, esperando St. Aubert descer para o café da manhã, e seus pensamentos formaram estes versos:

En Como é bom caminhar na floresta bem cedo pela manhã, quando a primeira luz vem do leste e a paisagem desperta. As flores que choraram durante a noite agora erguem a cabeça, ainda com lágrimas, abrem as pétalas para a luz e soltam seu perfume no ar. A brisa traz o perfume e o canto dos pássaros, o zumbido das abelhas, a canção do lenhador e o som distante das vacas. O topo da montanha brilha por entre as árvores, e mais longe, o mar com navios que capturam a luz do sol. Mas a floresta, a brisa da primavera, a música e a beleza da manhã de nada servem se a saúde não deixa o coração feliz. Ó manhã! Você traz saúde, espalha seu rubor, e faz o pai viver!

En Emily ouviu pessoas se movendo lá embaixo, na cabana. Logo ouviu Michael falando com as mulas enquanto as tirava de um pequeno galpão perto dali. Quando saiu do quarto, St. Aubert, que já estava de pé, a encontrou na porta. Ele não parecia mais descansado do que ela. Ela o guiou escada abaixo até a pequena sala onde tinham jantado na noite anterior. Ali encontraram um café da manhã arrumado e pronto, enquanto o anfitrião e a filha esperavam de pé para recebê-los naquela manhã.

En St. Aubert disse a eles: "Eu invejo vocês por esta cabana, meus bons amigos. Ela é tão agradável, tão tranquila e tão limpa. E este ar que respiramos... se alguma coisa pudesse trazer de volta a saúde perdida, com certeza seria este ar."

En La Voisin fez uma reverência de agradecimento e disse, educadamente, como um francês faria, que a casa deles estava honrada com a visita. St. Aubert sorriu com as palavras gentis e sentou-se para tomar café da manhã com creme, frutas, queijo fresco, manteiga e café. Emily viu que seu pai parecia muito doente, então tentou convencê-lo a esperar até a tarde antes de viajar. Mas ele estava ansioso para chegar em casa e repetiu isso várias vezes. Disse que se sentia tão bem quanto nos últimos dias e que viajaria melhor no fresco da manhã. Enquanto falava com seu anfitrião e agradecia a ele, Emily viu o rosto dele mudar. Antes que ela pudesse alcançá-lo, ele caiu para trás na cadeira. Ele logo se recuperou do desmaio repentino, mas se sentiu tão mal que soube que não poderia viajar. Depois de lutar por um curto momento, pediu ajuda para subir e deitar-se. Emily ficou apavorada de novo, como estivera na noite anterior. Mesmo mal conseguindo ficar em pé, ela tentou esconder seu medo de St. Aubert e deu-lhe o braço trêmulo para ajudá-lo até o quarto.

En Quando ele voltou para a cama, pediu para ver Emily, que estava chorando em seu próprio quarto. Assim que ela entrou, ele mandou todos os outros saírem. Quando ficaram sozinhos, ele estendeu a mão e olhou para ela com tanto amor e tristeza que ela desabou e chorou muito. St. Aubert parecia reunir forças, mas ainda não conseguia falar. Ele apenas apertou a mão dela e lutou contra as próprias lágrimas. Por fim, encontrou sua voz. 'Minha querida filha,' disse ele, tentando sorrir apesar da dor, 'minha querida Emily!' Ele parou de novo. Depois olhou para o céu, como se estivesse rezando, e disse, com mais firmeza, com o amor de um pai e a calma séria de um santo, que tinha uma triste verdade para contar, mas não podia escondê-la. Disse que não faltava muito para que tivessem que se separar, e que deviam falar sobre isso para que seus pensamentos e orações pudessem prepará-los. Sua voz tremia. Emily, ainda chorando, segurou a mão dele contra o peito e só conseguiu baixar a cabeça.

En 'Não deixe que eu desperdice estes momentos,' disse St. Aubert, recompondo-se. 'Tenho muito a dizer. Preciso te contar algo muito sério, e também preciso que me faça uma promessa solene. Depois disso, vou me sentir mais calmo. Você viu como estou ansioso para chegar em casa, mas não sabe todos os meus motivos. Escute-me. Mas antes de eu dizer mais, faça-me essa promessa, uma promessa ao seu pai moribundo!' Ele foi interrompido. Emily ouviu suas últimas palavras e entendeu, pela primeira vez, que ele estava em perigo imediato. Ela levantou a cabeça, parou de chorar e olhou para ele com uma dor insuportável. Então foi tomada por uma leve convulsão e caiu sem sentidos na cadeira. Os gritos de St. Aubert trouxeram La Voisin e sua filha para o quarto, e eles fizeram tudo o que podiam para reanimá-la, mas por muito tempo nada funcionou. Quando ela se recuperou, St. Aubert estava tão enfraquecido pelo que tinha visto que não conseguiu falar por vários minutos. Um licor tônico dado por Emily ajudou a reanimá-lo. Depois, sozinho com ela de novo, ele tentou acalmá-la e consolá-la. Ela se jogou nos braços dele e chorou em seu pescoço. Sua dor a impedia de ouvir o que ele dizia, então ele parou de tentar consolá-la e chorou em silêncio com ela. Por fim, lembrando-se de seu dever, ela tentou poupá-lo de mais sofrimento. Saiu dos braços dele, secou as lágrimas e disse algumas palavras para confortá-lo. St. Aubert respondeu que deviam confiar humildemente em Deus, que sempre os havia protegido e confortado. Disse que Deus não os abandonaria agora, e que sentia esse conforto no coração. Contou a ela que, mesmo se deixasse este mundo, ainda estaria na presença de Deus. Pediu que ela não chorasse mais. Disse que a morte não era estranha, porque todas as pessoas nascem para morrer, e que não era terrível para quem confia em um Deus todo-poderoso. Se tivesse vivido, logo enfrentaria a velhice, a fraqueza, a perda e a tristeza, e mesmo assim a morte chegaria depois. Ela deveria antes se alegrar por ele não sofrer isso, e por poder morrer com a mente clara, fortalecido pela fé e pela resignação. Ele parou, cansado de falar. Emily tentou de novo parecer calma e respondeu de um jeito que esperava que o confortasse.

En Depois de descansar um pouco, ele continuou a conversa. 'Deixe-me voltar,' disse ele, 'a um assunto que é muito querido ao meu coração. Eu disse que preciso de uma promessa solene sua. Deixe-me tê-la agora, antes de explicar o assunto principal a que ela se refere. Há outras coisas que você não precisa saber, porque sua paz depende disso. Prometa-me, então, que fará exatamente o que eu pedir.'

En Emily ficou comovida com a maneira séria como ele falava. Secou as lágrimas, que tinham começado a cair de novo, e olhou para St. Aubert com profundo sentimento. Então prometeu fazer o que ele pedisse. Fez o juramento com medo, embora não soubesse por que se sentia assim.

En Ele continuou: 'Eu te conheço bem demais, minha Emily, para pensar que você quebraria alguma promessa, especialmente uma feita tão solenemente. Sua promessa me traz paz, e cumpri-la é muito importante para sua felicidade. Agora escute. O closet ao lado do meu quarto em La Vallee tem uma tábua deslizante no chão. Você vai reconhecê-la por um nó especial na madeira, e pelo fato de que é a próxima tábua, com exceção de uma, ao lambril de frente para a porta. A cerca de um metro daquela ponta, mais perto da janela, você verá uma linha atravessada, como se a tábua tivesse sido unida. Para abri-la, pressione o pé sobre a linha. A ponta vai afundar, e você poderá deslizá-la facilmente sob a outra tábua. Debaixo dela, você vai encontrar um espaço oco.' St. Aubert parou para respirar, e Emily escutava com atenção completa. 'Você entendeu, minha querida?' perguntou ele. Emily mal conseguia falar, mas disse que sim.

En 'Quando você voltar para casa, então,' acrescentou ele, com um suspiro profundo -

En Ao ouvi-lo falar em voltar para casa, ela pensou em todas as coisas tristes que viriam com isso. Desabou em um choro doloroso, e St. Aubert, que vinha tentando se manter forte, também chorou com ela. Depois de alguns instantes, ele se recompôs. 'Minha querida filha,' disse ele, 'conforte-se. Quando eu me for, você não estará sozinha. Deixo você aos cuidados mais próximos da Providência, que nunca me abandonou. Não me machuque com uma tristeza tão grande. Em vez disso, ensine-me, com seu exemplo, a suportar a minha.' Ele parou de novo, e Emily achou ainda mais difícil controlar seus sentimentos.

En St. Aubert, agora falando com esforço, voltou ao assunto. 'Aquele closet, minha querida, quando você voltar para casa, vá até ele. Debaixo da tábua que descrevi, você vai encontrar um pacote de papéis. Escute com atenção, porque sua promessa se aplica especialmente a isso. Você deve queimar esses papéis, e eu lhe ordeno, solenemente, que não os leia antes.'

En Emily ficou tão surpresa que, por um momento, esqueceu sua dor e perguntou por que isso devia ser assim. St. Aubert disse que, se fosse certo para ele explicar, não teria pedido uma promessa tão rígida. 'Basta, meu amor, que você sinta o quanto é importante me obedecer nisso.' Depois continuou. 'Debaixo daquela tábua você também vai encontrar cerca de duzentos luíses de ouro em uma bolsa de seda. Aquele esconderijo foi feito para proteger qualquer dinheiro no castelo quando a província estava cheia de soldados que aproveitavam a confusão para virar ladrões.'

En Mas St. Aubert pediu mais uma promessa: não importava o que acontecesse no futuro, ela nunca deveria VENDER o castelo. Ele também disse que, se ela se casasse, deveria incluir no contrato de casamento que o castelo seria sempre dela. Depois explicou sua situação financeira com mais detalhes. Os duzentos luíses, junto com o dinheiro em sua bolsa, era todo o dinheiro pronto que tinha para deixar a ela. Disse que já tinha contado a ela sobre seus negócios com o Sr. Motteville em Paris. 'Minha filha,' disse ele depois de uma longa pausa, 'deixo você pobre, mas não desamparada.' Emily não conseguiu responder. Ajoelhou-se ao lado da cama dele, encostou o rosto na colcha e chorou segurando sua mão.

En Depois dessa conversa, St. Aubert pareceu mais calmo. Mas estava muito cansado e logo caiu em um sono leve. Emily ficou ao lado dele, observando e chorando, até que uma batida suave na porta a acordou. Era La Voisin, que disse que um confessor do convento próximo esperava lá embaixo para ver St. Aubert. Emily não queria que seu pai fosse incomodado, então pediu que o padre não saísse da casa. Quando St. Aubert acordou, ficou confuso por um tempo e não reconheceu Emily de imediato. Depois moveu os lábios e estendeu a mão. Quando ela a segurou, afundou-se na cadeira, chocada com o olhar de morte no rosto dele. Alguns minutos depois, ele conseguiu falar de novo. Emily perguntou se ele queria ver o confessor. Ele disse que sim, e quando o santo padre entrou, ela saiu do quarto. Ficaram sozinhos juntos por mais de meia hora. Quando Emily foi chamada de volta, encontrou St. Aubert mais perturbado do que antes. Olhou para o frade com um pouco de raiva, pensando que ele tinha causado isso. Mas ele olhou para ela com bondade e tristeza, e desviou o olhar. Com voz fraca, St. Aubert pediu que ela rezasse com ele e também perguntou se La Voisin poderia se juntar a eles. O velho e sua filha entraram. Os dois choraram e se ajoelharam com Emily ao redor da cama enquanto o santo padre lia as orações dos moribundos. St. Aubert ficou quieto e parecia rezar de todo o coração. Lágrimas frequentemente vinham sob suas pálpebras fechadas, e os soluços de Emily interromperam o serviço várias vezes.

En Quando o serviço terminou e a extrema-unção foi dada, o frade saiu. St. Aubert então chamou La Voisin para mais perto. Deu-lhe a mão e ficou em silêncio por um momento. Por fim disse, com a voz trêmula, que a amizade deles tinha sido curta, mas suficiente para que La Voisin mostrasse muita bondade com ele. Confiava que essa bondade seria mostrada a Emily depois que ele partisse, porque ela precisaria dela. Pediu que cuidasse dela durante os poucos dias em que ela ficaria ali. Disse que nada mais precisava ser dito, porque La Voisin conhecia os sentimentos de um pai e tinha filhos próprios. Seu próprio coração seria muito duro se tivesse menos confiança nele. La Voisin prometeu, com lágrimas que mostravam que falava sério, que faria tudo o que pudesse para aliviar a dor de Emily. Se St. Aubert quisesse, iria até com ela para a Gasconha. Essa oferta agradou tanto a St. Aubert que ele mal conseguiu encontrar palavras para agradecer ou dizer que aceitava. O que aconteceu depois entre St. Aubert e Emily comoveu profundamente La Voisin, e ele saiu do quarto. Emily ficou de novo sozinha com o pai. As forças dele pareciam se esvair rapidamente, mas sua mente e sua voz ainda estavam claras. Nesses últimos momentos solenes, ele frequentemente lhe dava conselhos para sua vida futura. Talvez nunca tenha pensado com mais sabedoria nem falado com mais clareza do que naquele momento.

En 'Acima de tudo, minha querida Emily,' disse ele, 'não se orgulhe de sentimentos profundos, o engano romântico dos corações bondosos. As pessoas que realmente sentem profundamente devem aprender cedo que isso pode ser perigoso. Isso as faz tirar tristeza ou alegria demais de tudo ao seu redor. Na vida, coisas dolorosas acontecem mais do que coisas agradáveis, e temo que sintamos o mal com mais força do que o bem. Assim, nos tornamos escravos de nossas emoções, a menos que aprendamos a controlá-las um pouco. Sei que você pode dizer, por ser jovem, que às vezes prefere sofrer a abrir mão de sua ideia refinada de felicidade. Mas depois de muito sofrimento e mudança, você vai querer descanso, e então verá que estava enganada. Vai entender que o sonho de felicidade é substituído pela felicidade real. A verdadeira felicidade vem da paz, não da agitação. Ela é calma e constante, e não pode existir em um coração que se emociona com cada pequeno acontecimento, assim como não pode existir em um coração que não sente nada. Você vê, então, que quero protegê-la do perigo de sentir demais, mas não estou defendendo a frieza. Na sua idade, eu teria dito que a frieza é pior do que qualquer erro de sentimento, e ainda penso assim. Chamo isso de vício porque leva a um dano real. Mas o sentimento descontrolado também pode ser chamado de vício pelo mesmo motivo. Ainda assim, a frieza é pior para todos. Eu me cansei,' disse St. Aubert fracamente, 'e cansei você também, minha Emily. Mas esse assunto é tão importante para sua paz futura que quero ser bem entendido.'

En Emily disse a ele que seus conselhos eram preciosos para ela e que nunca os esqueceria nem deixaria de tentar segui-los. St. Aubert sorriu para ela com amor e tristeza. Disse de novo que não queria que ela ficasse sem sentimentos, se pudesse evitar. Só queria alertá-la sobre o dano causado por se emocionar com facilidade demais, e mostrar como evitar isso. 'Cuidado,' disse ele, 'com o falso orgulho que já arruinou a paz de muitas pessoas. Não se orgulhe de ser sensível. Se você ceder a essa vaidade, vai perder sua felicidade para sempre. Lembre-se sempre de que a força e a coragem valem mais do que a graça do sentimento. Mas não confunda coragem com frieza; a frieza não pode conhecer a virtude. Lembre-se também de que um único ato de bondade, uma única boa ação de verdade, vale mais do que todos os sentimentos do mundo. O sentimento é uma vergonha, não um adorno, a menos que nos leve a boas ações. O avarento que se acha digno porque tem dinheiro, e confunde o poder de fazer o bem com realmente fazê-lo, não é mais culpado do que a pessoa que tem sentimento sem virtude ativa. Você já deve ter visto pessoas que gostam tanto desse tipo de sentimento que ignoram o dever prático. Elas se afastam dos que sofrem, e porque a visão do sofrimento as machuca, não fazem nada para ajudar. Que pobre é a humanidade que se contenta em ter pena quando poderia aliviar!'

En Mais tarde, St. Aubert falou sobre Madame Cheron, sua irmã. 'Deixe-me contar algo que importa muito para o seu futuro,' disse ele. 'Como você sabe, tivemos pouco contato nos últimos anos. Mas agora ela é sua única parente mulher, então, no meu testamento, deixei você aos cuidados dela até que você atinja a maioridade. Depois disso, pedi que ela continuasse a protegê-la. Ela não é a pessoa que eu teria escolhido para minha Emily, mas eu não tinha outra opção, e acredito que, no geral, ela é uma mulher boa e gentil. Não preciso dizer que você deve tentar conquistar a simpatia dela, meu amor. Você fará isso por causa do pai que muitas vezes desejou fazer o mesmo por você.'

En Emily prometeu que faria fielmente tudo o que ele pedisse, o melhor que pudesse. Depois chorou: 'Ai de mim! Em breve isso será tudo o que me resta fazer. Será quase meu único consolo cumprir os seus desejos.'

En St. Aubert olhou para ela sem falar, como se quisesse dizer mais, mas suas forças falharam, e seus olhos ficaram pesados e sem brilho. Aquele olhar tocou Emily profundamente. 'Meu querido pai!' ela gritou, e depois se conteve, apertou a mão dele com mais força e escondeu o rosto no lenço. Tentou esconder as lágrimas, mas St. Aubert ouviu seus soluços trêmulos. Suas forças voltaram por um momento. 'Ó minha filha,' disse ele fracamente, 'que meu consolo seja o seu. Eu morro em paz, porque sei que vou voltar para o meu Pai, que continuará sendo o seu Pai depois que eu me for. Confie sempre nele, meu amor, e ele vai te sustentar agora, como me sustenta.'

En Emily só conseguia escutar e chorar. Mas sua calma, e a fé e esperança que ele demonstrava, aliviaram um pouco a dor dela. Ainda assim, sempre que olhava para o rosto magro dele e via a morte se fortalecendo ali, sempre que via seus olhos fundos ainda fixos nela e suas pálpebras pesadas se fechando, sentia uma dor no coração que não pode ser descrita. Mas uma filha tão boa quanto Emily precisava de grande autocontrole para não demonstrar isso.

En Ele pediu mais uma vez sua bênção. 'Onde você está, minha querida?' disse ele, estendendo as mãos. Emily tinha virado para a janela para que ele não visse o quanto ela estava sofrendo. Agora ela entendeu que ele já não conseguia vê-la. Depois de dar a bênção a ela, e depois que esse último esforço de vida pareceu terminar, ele afundou de volta no travesseiro. Ela beijou a testa dele. O suor frio da morte já estava ali, e por um momento ela esqueceu sua coragem, e as lágrimas caíram junto. St. Aubert levantou os olhos. O sentimento de pai voltou a eles por um instante, mas logo se foi, e ele não disse mais nada.

En St. Aubert viveu até cerca das três da tarde. Foi afundando lentamente na morte e morreu sem luta nem suspiro.

En Emily foi tirada do quarto por La Voisin e sua filha, que tentaram consolá-la. O velho sentou-se com ela e chorou. Agnes ajudava mais de forma errada do que gentil.

Capítulo VIII

En Sobre o homem cujo triste destino suas virtudes lamentam, formas etéreas hão de sentar-se ao entardecer e curvar suas cabeças pensativas. COLLINS

En O monge que tinha vindo antes voltou naquela noite para consolar Emily. Trouxe uma mensagem gentil da madre abadessa, convidando-a para o convento. Emily não aceitou, mas mandou uma resposta cheia de agradecimentos. O frade falou com gentileza, e sua bondade calma se parecia muito com a de St. Aubert. Suas palavras aliviaram a grande dor dela e elevaram seus pensamentos a Deus, que vê todos os lugares e todos os tempos. Ele vê este pequeno mundo como se fosse apenas a sombra de um instante. Ele vê ao mesmo tempo a alma que deixou o corpo e a alma que ainda permanece nele. 'Aos olhos de Deus,' disse Emily, 'meu querido pai ainda vive tão verdadeiramente quanto vivia ontem para mim. Só para mim ele está morto; para Deus e para si mesmo, ele ainda vive!'

En O bom monge a deixou mais calma do que ela estivera desde a morte de St. Aubert. Antes de ir para sua pequena cabana passar a noite, ela teve coragem de visitar o corpo. Ficou ao lado dele em silêncio e não chorou. O rosto calmo mostrava como tinham sido os últimos momentos de vida naquele corpo agora vazio. Por um instante, ela virou o rosto com medo diante da imobilidade daquele rosto, que nunca tinha visto senão vivo. Depois olhou de novo, dividida entre a dúvida e uma surpresa terrível. Mal conseguia acreditar que aquele rosto amado já não sentia nada. Continuou olhando de forma desesperada, segurou a mão fria, falou com ele, olhou de novo, e então caiu em profunda dor. La Voisin ouviu seus soluços e entrou para levá-la dali, mas ela não escutava nada e só pediu que a deixasse sozinha.

En Sozinha de novo, ela chorou por muito tempo. Quando o entardecer escureceu o quarto e quase escondeu o corpo de vista, ela ainda se debruçava sobre ele. Por fim suas forças acabaram, e ela ficou mais calma. La Voisin bateu de novo e pediu que ela fosse para a sala comum. Antes de sair, ela beijou os lábios de St. Aubert, como costumava fazer quando lhe desejava boa noite. Beijou-os de novo. Seu coração parecia prestes a se partir. Algumas lágrimas vieram aos seus olhos. Ela olhou para o céu, depois para St. Aubert, e saiu do quarto.

En Quando voltou para sua cabana solitária, seus pensamentos tristes ainda ficavam perto do pai morto. Mesmo em um meio-sono, as coisas que tinha pensado acordada continuavam a encher sua mente. Sonhou que o pai vinha em sua direção com um rosto gentil. Depois ele sorriu com tristeza e apontou para cima. Seus lábios se moveram, mas em vez de palavras ela ouviu uma música doce ao longe. Logo o rosto dele pareceu brilhar com a alegria suave de um ser superior. A música ficou mais alta, e ela acordou. A visão tinha desaparecido, mas a música ainda chegava aos seus ouvidos como sons de anjos. Ela ficou incerta, escutou, sentou-se e escutou de novo. Era música de verdade, não uma ilusão. Depois de uma harmonia solene, parou, depois começou de novo com uma doçura triste, e então se apagou em uma nota final que parecia elevar a alma que escutava até o céu. Ela se lembrou da música da noite anterior e da história estranha de La Voisin, e da conversa triste sobre espíritos que tinham partido. Agora tudo o que St. Aubert tinha dito sobre esse assunto voltava à sua mente e a dominava. Que mudança em apenas algumas horas! Ele, que antes só tinha suposto, agora sabia a verdade e ele mesmo se tornara um dos que partiram. Enquanto escutava, sentiu um frio de temor reverente, e suas lágrimas pararam. Levantou-se e foi até a janela. Lá fora estava tudo escuro, mas quando desviou o olhar dos bosques escuros no horizonte, viu à esquerda o planeta brilhante que St. Aubert tinha apontado, se pondo atrás dos bosques. Lembrou-se do que ele tinha dito sobre aquilo. A música agora vinha em intervalos, então ela abriu a janela para escutar e tentou descobrir de onde vinha. A escuridão a impedia de ver qualquer coisa no terreno verde abaixo, e os sons foram ficando cada vez mais fracos até ficarem em silêncio. Ela escutou, mas eles não voltaram. Pouco depois, viu o planeta tremer entre as folhas mais altas dos bosques, e depois afundar atrás delas. Cheia de temor triste, voltou para a cama e finalmente esqueceu sua dor por um tempo no sono.

En Na manhã seguinte, uma freira do convento a visitou com ajuda gentil e outro convite da madre abadessa. Emily não podia deixar a casa enquanto os restos mortais de seu pai ainda estivessem ali, mas concordou em visitar a abadessa à noite, mesmo que isso fosse doloroso para ela em seu estado triste.

En Cerca de uma hora antes do pôr do sol, La Voisin lhe mostrou o caminho pelos bosques até o convento. Ele ficava em uma pequena baía do Mediterrâneo, cercado por árvores. Se Emily estivesse menos infeliz, teria admirado a ampla vista do mar da encosta verde em frente ao prédio, e a terra rica dos dois lados com bosques e campos. Mas agora um único pensamento triste enchia sua mente, e a natureza parecia não ter cor nem forma. O sino da oração noturna tocou quando ela passou pelo antigo portão do convento, e soou para ela como um sino fúnebre por St. Aubert. Coisas pequenas podem afetar uma mente enfraquecida pela dor. Emily lutou contra uma fraqueza enjoativa, e foi levada até a abadessa, que a recebeu com ternura de mãe. Seu cuidado gentil tocou Emily de imediato, e lágrimas encheram seus olhos. Ela tentou falar, mas não conseguiu. A abadessa a levou até um assento, sentou-se ao lado dela, segurou sua mão e esperou em silêncio enquanto Emily secava as lágrimas. 'Fique calma, minha filha,' disse a abadessa suavemente. 'Não fale ainda. Sei tudo o que você diria. Seu ânimo precisa se acalmar. Vamos às orações. Você vai se juntar ao nosso serviço noturno? É reconfortante, minha filha, olhar para cima em nossa dor, para um pai que vê e tem pena de nós, e que nos corrige com misericórdia.'

En Emily chorou de novo, mas muitos sentimentos doces vieram com suas lágrimas. A abadessa a deixou chorar sem interrupção e a observou com um olhar de bondade que parecia um anjo da guarda. Quando Emily ficou mais calma, foi incentivada a falar livremente e explicar por que não queria deixar a casa. A abadessa nem sugeriu que ela devesse ir. Em vez disso, elogiou seu devotado dever para com o pai e esperava que ela ficasse alguns dias no convento antes de voltar para La Vallee. 'Você deve se dar um pouco de tempo para se recuperar do primeiro choque, minha filha, antes de enfrentar um segundo,' disse ela. 'Não vou esconder de você o quanto seu coração deve sofrer quando voltar ao lugar da sua antiga felicidade. Aqui você terá descanso, compreensão e a religião para ajudar a restaurar seu ânimo. Mas venha,' acrescentou, vendo os olhos de Emily se encherem de lágrimas de novo, 'vamos até a capela.'

En Emily a seguiu até o salão, onde as freiras estavam reunidas. A abadessa deixou Emily aos cuidados delas e disse: 'Esta é uma filha que respeito muito; sejam irmãs para ela.'

En Foram em fila até a capela. A forma séria como o serviço foi conduzido elevou o espírito de Emily e lhe trouxe conforto e paz.

En A noite chegou antes que a abadessa deixasse Emily partir. Ela saiu do convento com o coração muito mais leve do que quando tinha entrado. La Voisin a levou de volta pelos bosques, cuja escuridão triste combinava com seu próprio estado de espírito. Emily seguiu pelo pequeno caminho selvagem em silêncio, pensativa. Então seu guia parou de repente, olhou ao redor e virou para a grama alta, dizendo que tinha pegado o caminho errado. Ele seguiu andando depressa, e Emily teve dificuldade para segui-lo pelo terreno escuro e desigual. Ele logo ficou bem à frente. Emily o chamou, mas ele parecia relutante em parar e continuou se apressando. 'Se você não tem certeza do caminho,' disse Emily, 'não deveríamos perguntar naquele castelo ali, entre as árvores?'

En 'Não,' respondeu La Voisin. 'Não é preciso. Quando chegarmos àquele riacho, mademoiselle' - ele apontou para a luz na água além dos bosques - 'estaremos em casa logo. Não sei como cometi esse erro. Raramente venho por este caminho depois do pôr do sol.'

En 'É bem solitário aqui,' disse Emily, 'mas vocês não têm bandidos por aqui.'

En 'Não, mademoiselle - nenhum bandido.'

En 'Do que você tem medo, então, meu bom amigo? Você não é supersticioso, é?' 'Não, não supersticioso; mas, para dizer a verdade, senhora, ninguém gosta de se aproximar daquele castelo depois de escurecer.' 'Quem mora lá,' perguntou Emily, 'que o faz parecer tão assustador?' 'Ora, mademoiselle, quase ninguém mora lá agora. Nosso senhor, o Marquês, dono destes belos bosques também, morreu. Ele não vinha aqui havia muitos anos, e as pessoas que cuidam do lugar moram em uma casa perto dali.' Emily então entendeu que aquele era o castelo que La Voisin já tinha apontado como pertencente ao Marquês Villeroi, e que seu pai parecera profundamente comovido quando ele foi mencionado.

En 'Ah! É um lugar solitário agora,' continuou La Voisin, 'e era um lugar tão grandioso, como eu me lembro.' Emily perguntou o que tinha causado essa mudança triste, mas o velho não disse nada. Emily ficou interessada pelo medo que ele tinha demonstrado, e ainda mais pela lembrança da aflição do pai, então perguntou de novo: 'Se você não tem medo das pessoas que moram lá, meu bom amigo, e não é supersticioso, por que teme passar perto daquele castelo no escuro?'

En 'Talvez eu seja um pouco supersticioso, mademoiselle. E se você soubesse o que eu sei, talvez você também fosse. Coisas estranhas aconteceram ali. O senhor, seu bom pai, parecia conhecer a falecida marquesa.' 'Por favor, me conte o que aconteceu,' disse Emily, profundamente comovida.

En 'Ai, mademoiselle,' respondeu La Voisin, 'não pergunte mais. Não cabe a mim revelar os segredos de família do meu senhor.' Emily ficou surpresa com suas palavras e com o jeito como ele falou, então não perguntou de novo. Em vez disso, seus pensamentos voltaram para St. Aubert. Depois se lembrou da música que tinha ouvido na noite anterior e contou a La Voisin sobre isso. 'Você não foi a única a ouvi-la, mademoiselle,' respondeu ele. 'Eu também a ouvi, mas já a ouvi tantas vezes na mesma hora que quase não me surpreendi.'

En Emily disse de repente: 'Você certamente acha que essa música está ligada ao castelo, e por isso você é supersticioso.' 'Pode ser, mademoiselle,' respondeu ele, 'mas há outras coisas sobre aquele castelo de que me lembro, e infelizmente também.' Ele suspirou fundo. Emily era cuidadosa demais para insistir mais com perguntas, então não disse mais nada.

En Quando ela chegou à casa, sua dor voltou com toda a força. Era como se ela só tivesse escapado dela enquanto estava longe da coisa que a causava. Foi imediatamente para o quarto onde o corpo do pai estava e se entregou a uma dor dolorosa. Por fim, La Voisin conseguiu convencê-la a sair do quarto. Ela foi para seu próprio quarto e, exausta pelo sofrimento do dia, logo caiu em um sono profundo. Quando acordou, se sentia muito melhor.

En Quando chegou a hora triste de os restos mortais de St. Aubert serem levados para sempre, Emily foi sozinha até o quarto para olhar o rosto dele uma última vez. La Voisin tinha esperado lá embaixo até que o desespero dela diminuísse, mas quando a espera ficou longa demais, ele se preocupou e foi buscá-la. Bateu suavemente e não obteve resposta. Escutou, mas tudo estava quieto. Então abriu a porta e encontrou Emily desacordada no chão perto da cama, ao lado do caixão. Depois de pedir ajuda, ela foi levada para o quarto, e remédios e cuidados finalmente a trouxeram de volta.

En Enquanto Emily ainda estava fraca, La Voisin ordenou que o caixão fosse fechado. Também a convenceu a não voltar ao quarto. Ela sabia que estava fraca demais para isso, e também percebeu que precisava guardar suas forças para o funeral que se aproximava. St. Aubert tinha pedido para ser enterrado na igreja do convento de St. Clair, perto do antigo túmulo dos Villerois, e tinha indicado o lugar exato. A superiora permitiu, e o triste cortejo fúnebre se dirigiu para lá. Nos portões, um padre respeitado e um grupo de frades os receberam. O hino solene e o órgão comoveram todos os que os ouviram, e os passos fracos de Emily e seu rosto calmo tiraram lágrimas de muitos olhos. Ela mesma não chorou. Caminhou entre duas pessoas que a apoiavam, com um véu preto fino sobre parte do rosto. A abadessa caminhava à sua frente, e as freiras a seguiam, cantando com tristeza. Quando chegaram ao túmulo, a música parou. Emily puxou o véu completamente sobre o rosto, e seus soluços puderam ser ouvidos durante uma pausa no serviço. Controlou-se de novo até que o caixão foi baixado e ela ouviu a terra cair sobre a tampa. Então estremeceu e gritou de dor, apoiando-se na pessoa ao lado. Logo se acalmou um pouco, e quando ouviu as palavras 'Seu corpo é sepultado em paz, e sua alma retorna a Ele que a deu', sua tristeza se suavizou em lágrimas.

En A abadessa levou Emily da igreja para seu próprio quarto e lhe deu todo o conforto que a religião e a compaixão gentil podiam oferecer. Emily lutou contra sua dor, mas a abadessa a observava com cuidado e mandou preparar uma cama. Insistiu para que Emily descansasse. Também gentilmente lembrou a ela de sua promessa de ficar no convento por alguns dias. Emily não queria voltar para a casa, onde tinha sofrido tanto, e agora que nenhum dever urgente restava, sentiu o quanto estava fraca e mal, e soube que não podia viajar de imediato.

En Enquanto isso, os cuidados maternais da abadessa e a atenção gentil das freiras fizeram tudo o que era possível para acalmar Emily e ajudar sua saúde a voltar. Mas sua saúde tinha sido profundamente ferida através da mente, então ela não conseguia se recuperar rapidamente. Ficou no convento por algumas semanas com uma febre lenta. Queria ir para casa, mas não podia. Às vezes, chegava até a odiar a ideia de deixar o lugar onde os restos mortais de seu pai estavam depositados. Às vezes se consolava pensando que, se morresse ali, descansaria ao lado de St. Aubert. Escreveu para Madame Cheron e para a velha governanta para contar sobre o triste acontecimento e sua própria condição. Sua tia respondeu com palavras comuns de simpatia, mas com pouco sentimento verdadeiro. Disse que mandaria um criado para levar Emily até La Vallee, porque estava ocupada demais com convidados para fazer a longa viagem ela mesma. Emily talvez preferisse La Vallee a Tholouse, mas não pôde deixar de perceber o quanto era rude e cruel mandá-la de volta para lá sem nenhum parente para protegê-la ou confortá-la. Isso era ainda pior porque St. Aubert tinha tornado Madame Cheron a tutora de sua filha órfã.

En O criado de Madame Cheron tornou desnecessária a ajuda de La Voisin. Emily sentiu-se grata a ele por todo o cuidado gentil que teve com seu pai e com ela mesma, e ficou contente por poupá-lo de uma longa viagem, que teria sido difícil para um homem da sua idade.

En Durante sua estadia no convento, a paz de dentro, a beleza tranquila de fora, e o cuidado gentil da abadessa e das freiras confortaram Emily tanto que ela quase desejou deixar o mundo que tinha tirado seus amigos mais queridos e viver no convento ao lado do túmulo de St. Aubert. Sua natureza pensativa e sonhadora também lhe dava uma bela visão do retiro sagrado de uma freira, o que escondia dela o lado egoísta dessa segurança. Mas esses sentimentos tristes e um pouco supersticiosos começaram a desaparecer conforme seu ânimo melhorava, e seu coração acolheu de novo uma lembrança que só tinha sido afastada por um curto tempo. Essa lembrança trazia esperança, conforto e sentimentos de carinho. Ao longe, ela quase podia ver a felicidade, e embora soubesse que essas esperanças pudessem ser falsas, não conseguia se decidir a afastá-las para sempre. Talvez tenha sido a lembrança de Valancourt, seu bom gosto, seu talento, e o rosto que mostrava os dois, que finalmente a fez escolher voltar ao mundo. A grandeza e a beleza dos lugares onde eles se conheceram tinham despertado sua imaginação e feito Valancourt parecer mais interessante, como se parte dessa beleza também pertencesse a ele. Os elogios repetidos de St. Aubert a ele também aprovavam esse sentimento. Ainda assim, embora o rosto e as maneiras dele mostrassem claramente admiração por ela, ele nunca tinha falado abertamente. Até mesmo a esperança de vê-lo de novo era tão distante que ela quase não a notava, e muito menos sentia que ela guiava suas ações agora.

En Vários dias se passaram depois que o criado de Madame Cheron chegou, antes que Emily estivesse bem o bastante para viajar até La Vallee. Na noite anterior à sua partida, ela foi até a casa para se despedir de La Voisin e sua família e para agradecer a eles. Encontrou o velho sentado em um banco na porta, entre a filha e o genro, que tinha acabado de voltar do trabalho e tocava um pequeno instrumento de sopro que soava um pouco como um oboé. Uma garrafa de vinho estava ao lado do velho, e diante dele havia uma pequena mesa com frutas e pão. Ao redor dela estavam vários de seus netos, criancinhas coradas, tomando a ceia enquanto a mãe a servia. Na beira do pequeno gramado perto da casa, o gado e algumas ovelhas descansavam sob as árvores. O sol da tarde dava à cena uma luz suave, e longos raios brilhavam através dos bosques e iluminavam as torres distantes do castelo. Emily parou antes de sair da sombra e olhou para o grupo feliz da família, para a velhice calma e saudável de La Voisin, para o cuidado carinhoso de Agnes com seus filhos, e para as próprias crianças, cujos sorrisos mostravam sua alegria simples. Depois olhou de novo para o velho e para a casa, e a lembrança do pai voltou com força. Com medo de parar por mais tempo, ela avançou rapidamente. Despediu-se de La Voisin e de sua família com emoção. Ele parecia amá-la como uma filha e chorou, e Emily também chorou muitas lágrimas. Não entrou na casa, porque sabia que isso despertaria sentimentos que não conseguiria suportar.

En Ainda restava uma tarefa dolorosa para Emily. Ela decidiu visitar o túmulo do pai mais uma vez. Para evitar ser incomodada ou observada enquanto se entregava à sua dor, esperou até que todos no convento estivessem dormindo, exceto a freira que tinha prometido lhe trazer a chave da igreja. Emily ficou em seu quarto até o sino do convento bater meia-noite. Então a freira veio com a chave de uma porta privada que dava para a igreja, e desceram juntas a escada estreita e em espiral. A freira se ofereceu para ir com Emily até o túmulo, dizendo: 'É triste ir sozinha a esta hora.' Mas Emily agradeceu e não deixou que ninguém visse sua dor. A irmã destrancou a porta e lhe deu a lamparina. Lembrou Emily de que havia uma sepultura recém-aberta na nave leste, e disse para manter a luz baixa para não tropeçar na terra solta. Emily agradeceu de novo, pegou a lamparina e entrou na igreja. A irmã Mariette então se foi. Mas Emily parou na porta. O medo tomou conta dela de repente, e ela voltou até o pé da escada. Ao ouvir os passos da freira subindo e ver seu véu preto se mover sobre o corrimão em espiral, quase a chamou de volta. Depois o véu desapareceu, e envergonhada de seu medo, ela voltou para a igreja. O ar frio das naves a gelou, e o grande espaço escuro, iluminado apenas um pouco pela luz da lua vinda de uma janela gótica distante, teria em outra ocasião a assustado com pensamentos supersticiosos. Mas agora a dor enchia sua mente. Ela quase não notou os ecos suaves de seus próprios passos nem pensou na sepultura aberta até estar quase na beira dela. Um frade tinha sido enterrado ali na noite anterior, e enquanto ela estava sentada sozinha em seu quarto ao entardecer, tinha ouvido os monges cantando a oração pela alma dele. Isso trouxe de volta os detalhes da morte de seu pai. As vozes, com o som baixo do órgão, uma vez a tinham enchido de pensamentos sombrios e comoventes. Agora ela se lembrava deles, e enquanto se desviava para evitar o chão remexido, apressou-se em direção ao túmulo de St. Aubert. Na luz da lua que atravessava parte da nave, achou que via uma sombra se movendo entre os pilares. Parou para escutar, não ouviu passos, e acreditou que sua imaginação a tinha enganado. Sem mais medo de ser vista, seguiu em frente. St. Aubert estava sob uma simples pedra de mármore, com pouco mais do que seu nome e as datas de nascimento e morte, perto do pé do grande monumento dos Villerois. Emily ficou junto ao túmulo até que o sino das orações da madrugada avisou os monges para saírem. Então ela chorou ali um último adeus e se forçou a ir embora. Depois desse triste consolo, dormiu mais profundamente do que havia dormido em muito tempo, e quando acordou, se sentiu mais calma e resignada do que estivera desde a morte de St. Aubert.

En Mas quando chegou a hora de deixar o convento, sua dor voltou. Ela se sentia ligada ao lugar por causa dos mortos e da bondade dos vivos. O lugar onde os restos mortais de seu pai estavam enterrados parecia para ela um lar. A abadessa lhe disse muitas palavras gentis e pediu que voltasse se fosse infeliz em outro lugar. Muitas das freiras também sentiram verdadeira pena de vê-la partir. Emily deixou o convento em lágrimas, com sinceros desejos de felicidade.

En Ela viajou várias léguas antes que a paisagem ao redor conseguisse tirá-la de sua profunda tristeza, mesmo que por um momento. Quando conseguiu, isso só a lembrou de que St. Aubert tinha estado ao seu lado da última vez que vira aqueles lugares, e das coisas que ele tinha dito sobre paisagens parecidas. Assim o dia passou tranquilamente, sem nenhum acontecimento especial, em tristeza e fraqueza. Ela dormiu naquela noite em uma cidade perto da fronteira do Languedoc, e na manhã seguinte entrou na Gasconha.

En Perto do fim do dia, Emily avistou as planícies perto de La Vallee, e velhas paisagens do passado começaram a chamar sua atenção. Com elas vieram lembranças que a encheram de ternura e dor. Enquanto olhava, através das lágrimas, para a beleza selvagem dos Pirineus, agora brilhantes com a luz e as sombras do entardecer, ela se lembrou de como o pai tinha compartilhado esse prazer com ela na última vez que os vira. Depois algum lugar que ele tinha lhe mostrado especialmente aparecia diante dela, e o desespero afundava em seu coração. 'Ali!' ela exclamava. 'Ali estão os penhascos, e ali está o pinheiral que ele amava quando passamos por aqui pela última vez. Ali, debaixo daquela montanha, está a casinha entre os cedros que ele me disse para lembrar e desenhar. Ó meu pai, será que nunca mais vou te ver!'

En Conforme se aproximava do castelo, as lembranças tristes do passado ficavam cada vez mais fortes. Por fim o castelo em si apareceu na beleza brilhante da paisagem favorita de St. Aubert. Aquela era uma visão que exigia força, não lágrimas. Emily secou os olhos e se preparou para enfrentar o momento doloroso de voltar a um lar onde nenhum dos pais estaria para recebê-la. 'Sim,' disse ela, 'que eu não esqueça as lições que ele me ensinou! Ele muitas vezes me mostrou que até a tristeza justa deve ser resistida. Nós sempre admiramos a grandeza de uma mente que pode sofrer e ainda assim raciocinar. Ó meu pai! se você puder olhar para sua filha lá de cima, vai ficar feliz de ver que ela se lembra de seus ensinamentos e tenta segui-los.'

En Uma curva na estrada lhe deu uma visão mais próxima do castelo. Suas chaminés, iluminadas pela luz do entardecer, erguiam-se por trás dos carvalhos favoritos de St. Aubert, cujas folhas escondiam parte da casa. Emily não conseguiu conter um suspiro pesado. 'Esta também era sua hora favorita,' disse ela, olhando para as longas sombras do entardecer sobre a terra. 'Como é tranquilo, como é bonito! Bonito e calmo, como era no passado.'

En Ela lutou contra sua tristeza de novo, até que o som de uma dança animada chegou até ela. Tinha ouvido aquilo tantas vezes enquanto caminhava com St. Aubert à beira do Garona que sua coragem se quebrou. Continuou chorando até que a carruagem parou no pequeno portão que dava para o que agora era sua própria terra. Quando a carruagem parou de repente, ela olhou para cima e viu a velha governanta de seu pai vindo abrir o portão. Manchon também correu latindo. Quando sua jovem dona desceu, ele se aninhou nela e dançou ao seu redor, respirando rápido de alegria.

En 'Querida mademoiselle!' disse Theresa. Ela parou, como se quisesse consolar Emily, mas Emily estava perturbada demais para responder. O cão ainda se aninhava e corria ao redor dela, depois se lançou até a carruagem com latidos curtos e rápidos. 'Ah, mademoiselle! Meu pobre patrão!' disse Theresa, cujos sentimentos eram mais fortes que sua timidez. 'Manchon foi procurar por ele.' Emily gritou. Olhando para a porta aberta da carruagem, viu o cão pular para dentro, depois pular para fora de imediato, e correr ao redor dos cavalos com o focinho no chão.

En 'Não chore assim, mademoiselle,' disse Theresa. 'Isso parte meu coração ver a senhorita assim.' O cão correu até Emily, depois voltou para a carruagem, depois voltou para ela de novo, choramingando tristemente. 'Pobre criatura!' disse Theresa. 'Você perdeu seu patrão, então bem pode chorar. Mas venha, minha querida jovem senhorita, seja corajosa. O que posso lhe trazer para fazê-la se sentir melhor?' Emily deu a mão à velha criada e tentou conter sua dor, enquanto perguntava gentilmente sobre a saúde de Theresa. Mas ainda ficou parada no caminho até o castelo, porque não havia ninguém lá dentro para recebê-la com carinho. Seu coração não pulava mais de esperança feliz diante de um sorriso familiar, e ela temia as coisas lá dentro que trariam de volta lembranças completas de sua antiga felicidade. Caminhou devagar em direção à porta, parou, seguiu, e parou de novo. O castelo parecia silencioso, abandonado e solitário. Com medo de entrar, mas se culpando por demorar, finalmente entrou no salão. Atravessou-o rapidamente, como se tivesse medo de olhar ao redor, e abriu a porta do quarto que costumava chamar de seu. A escuridão do entardecer fazia o quarto quieto e vazio parecer ainda mais solene. As cadeiras, as mesas, e cada móvel, tão familiares em dias mais felizes, falavam profundamente ao seu coração. Sem perceber a princípio, sentou-se junto a uma janela que dava para o jardim, onde St. Aubert tinha se sentado com ela muitas vezes, observando o sol se pôr sobre a ampla vista além das árvores.

En Depois de chorar por algum tempo, ela ficou mais calma. Quando Theresa voltou depois de levar a bagagem para o quarto de sua senhorita, Emily já tinha se recuperado o bastante para falar com ela.

En 'Preparei a cama verde para a senhorita,' disse Theresa, colocando o café sobre a mesa. 'Pensei que gostaria mais dela do que da sua por enquanto. Mas nunca pensei, há um mês, que voltaria sozinha. Ah, a notícia quase partiu meu coração quando chegou. Quem acreditaria que meu pobre patrão, quando saiu de casa, nunca mais voltaria?' Emily escondeu o rosto com o lenço e acenou com a mão.

En 'Por favor, prove o café,' disse Theresa. 'Querida senhorita, tenha consolo. Todos nós temos que morrer. Meu querido patrão é um santo lá em cima.' Emily tirou o lenço do rosto e olhou para o céu com lágrimas nos olhos. Logo depois secou-as e, com voz calma mas trêmula, começou a perguntar sobre alguns dos pensionistas de seu falecido pai.

En 'Ai de mim!' disse Theresa, enquanto servia o café e o dava à sua senhora. 'Todos que puderam vieram aqui todos os dias perguntar por você e por meu patrão.' Depois contou que algumas pessoas que estavam bem quando eles saíram agora estavam mortas, enquanto outras que estavam doentes tinham se recuperado. 'E olhe, senhorita,' acrescentou, 'a velha Mary está vindo pelo jardim agora. Há três anos ela parece que vai morrer, mas ainda está viva. Ela viu a carruagem na porta e sabe que a senhorita voltou.'

En A visão dessa pobre velha teria sido demais para Emily, então ela pediu a Theresa que fosse dizer a ela que estava doente demais para ver alguém naquela noite. 'Amanhã talvez eu esteja melhor; mas dê a ela este sinal de que me lembro dela.'

En Emily ficou sentada por um tempo, cheia de tristeza. Tudo o que via trazia de volta uma lembrança, e cada lembrança levava à sua dor. Suas plantas favoritas, que St. Aubert tinha lhe ensinado a cuidar; os pequenos desenhos no quarto, que o bom gosto dele tinha lhe ensinado a fazer; os livros que ele tinha escolhido para ela e que tinham lido juntos; seus instrumentos musicais, cujos sons ele amava e às vezes tocava ele mesmo - tudo isso tornava sua tristeza mais forte. Por fim ela se forçou a se levantar. Reuniu toda a sua coragem e foi em direção àqueles quartos tristes. Tinha medo de entrar neles, mas sabia que a afetariam ainda mais se ela esperasse mais tempo.

En Depois de passar pela estufa, ela perdeu a coragem por um momento quando abriu a porta da biblioteca. A luz do entardecer e as folhas perto das janelas tornavam o quarto ainda mais sério, e tudo nele lhe lembrava do pai. Ali estava a poltrona dele, e ela estremeceu ao vê-la, porque tinha visto tantas vezes ele sentado ali. A imagem dele veio tão clara à sua mente que quase pensou que ele estava diante dela. Ela controlou esses pensamentos assustadores, embora ainda sentisse um temor reverente. Caminhou devagar até a cadeira e se sentou nela. Uma escrivaninha de leitura estava diante dela, e um livro aberto estava sobre ela, exatamente como o pai o tinha deixado. Ela demorou algum tempo antes de ousar olhar para ele. Quando o fez, se lembrou de como St. Aubert tinha lido trechos daquele autor favorito para ela na noite anterior a deixar o castelo. Isso a comoveu profundamente. Olhou para a página, chorou, e olhou de novo. O livro parecia sagrado e precioso para ela. Não o teria movido nem fechado a página por todas as riquezas da Índia. Ficou ali, incapaz de sair, mesmo com o quarto ficando mais escuro e silencioso. Seus pensamentos voltaram-se para o estado dos mortos, e ela se lembrou da triste conversa entre St. Aubert e La Voisin na noite antes de ele morrer.

En Enquanto estava sentada pensando, viu a porta se abrir devagar, e um som de sussurro em uma parte distante do quarto a assustou. Na luz fraca, achou que via algo se mover. Seus pensamentos anteriores e seu estado infeliz fizeram sua imaginação aceitar cada pequeno sinal, e de repente ela temeu algo sobrenatural. Ficou parada por um momento. Depois sua razão mais calma voltou, e ela disse: 'Do que devo temer? Se os espíritos daqueles que amamos voltam para nós, é por bondade.'

En O silêncio a fez se envergonhar de seu medo, e ela pensou que sua imaginação a tinha enganado, ou que tinha ouvido um daqueles ruídos estranhos que às vezes acontecem em casas antigas. Mas o mesmo som veio de novo. Ela viu algo se movendo em sua direção, e depois ao seu lado na cadeira. Gritou, mas seu medo desapareceu na hora quando viu que era Manchon. Ele se sentou perto dela e lambeu suas mãos com carinho.

En Ao ver que estava perturbada demais para visitar os quartos vazios do castelo naquela noite, ela saiu da biblioteca e caminhou até o jardim, depois desceu até o terraço acima do rio. O sol tinha se posto, mas sob as amendoeiras escuras ela ainda podia ver o brilho amarelo do oeste, além do crepúsculo que se apagava. Um morcego voou silenciosamente por perto, e de vez em quando ela ouvia o canto triste de um rouxinol. A hora a fez lembrar de alguns versos que uma vez tinha ouvido St. Aubert recitar naquele mesmo lugar, e agora encontrava um triste tipo de conforto em repeti-los.

En SONETO Agora o morcego voa em círculos na brisa da noite. A brisa se insinua tremendo em rajadas ao longo da onda. Ela treme pelos bosques e pela caverna, cujos suspiros solitários enganam o viajante. Pois muitas vezes, quando a tristeza encanta sua mente, ele pensa ouvir o Espírito da rocha. Ele escuta, com um medo doce e emocionante, os murmúrios baixos e místicos do vento. Agora o morcego voa em círculos, e o orvalho do crepúsculo cai em silêncio ao redor. Sobre o penhasco da montanha, a onda brilhante, e o barco distante, ele espalha um véu cinza de tom suave e harmonioso. Assim o orvalho da lágrima de piedade cai sobre a Dor e escurece suas visões solitárias de desespero.

En Emily continuou andando e chegou à árvore de plátano favorita de St. Aubert, onde muitas vezes tinham se sentado juntos à sombra, a essa mesma hora. Ela e sua querida mãe também tinham falado ali, muitas vezes, sobre a vida depois da morte. O pai frequentemente dizia o quanto de conforto sentia ao acreditar que se encontrariam de novo em outro mundo. Essas lembranças dominaram Emily, e ela deixou o plátano. Apoiou-se com tristeza no muro do terraço e viu um grupo de camponeses dançando alegremente nas margens do Garona lá embaixo. O rio era largo e refletia a luz do entardecer. Eram uma visão alegre, ao contrário da solitária e infeliz Emily. Estavam animados e amigáveis, como muitas vezes tinham estado quando ela também era feliz, e quando St. Aubert escutava sua música animada com um rosto cheio de prazer e bondade. Emily olhou para eles por um momento, depois se virou porque a lembrança era dolorosa demais. Mas para onde ela poderia se virar sem encontrar algo mais que aprofundasse sua tristeza?

En Enquanto caminhava devagar em direção à casa, Theresa a encontrou. 'Querida mademoiselle,' disse ela, 'estou procurando pela senhorita há meia hora, e temi que algo tivesse acontecido. Como pode gostar de andar por aí no ar da noite? Por favor, entre na casa. Pense no que meu pobre patrão diria se pudesse ver a senhorita. Tenho certeza de que ele sentiu muito a morte da minha querida senhora, embora a senhorita saiba que ele quase nunca chorava.'

En 'Por favor, Theresa, pare,' disse Emily, querendo interromper esse discurso pouco sensato, mas bem-intencionado. Mas Theresa não era fácil de silenciar. 'E quando a senhorita costumava sofrer tanto,' disse ela, 'ele muitas vezes lhe dizia que estava errada, porque minha senhora era feliz. E se ela era feliz, tenho certeza de que ele também é, pois dizem que as orações dos pobres chegam ao céu.' Enquanto falava, Emily já tinha entrado silenciosamente no castelo, e Theresa a guiou com a luz pelo salão até a sala de estar comum, onde tinha posto a mesa para o jantar com apenas uma faca e um garfo. Emily já estava no quarto antes de perceber que não era o seu. Mesmo assim, conteve seus sentimentos e se sentou quieta junto à pequena mesa de jantar. O chapéu do pai estava pendurado na parede à sua frente. Quando olhou para ele, sentiu-se fraca e quase desmaiou. Theresa viu que ela olhava para o chapéu e se moveu para tirá-lo, mas Emily fez sinal com a mão. 'Não,' disse ela, 'deixe ficar. Vou para o meu quarto.' 'Mas, mademoiselle, o jantar está pronto.' 'Não consigo comer,' respondeu Emily. 'Vou para o meu quarto e tentar dormir. Amanhã vou me sentir melhor.'

En 'Isso é triste,' disse Theresa. 'Querida senhorita, por favor coma alguma coisa! Cozinhei um faisão, e é um bem bonito. O velho senhor Barreaux o mandou hoje de manhã, porque o vi ontem e disse a ele que a senhorita estava chegando. E não conheço ninguém que pareceu mais triste ao ouvir a notícia triste do que ele.'

En 'Ele ficou?' disse Emily, com voz terna, e por um momento seu pobre coração se sentiu mais aquecido por causa desse pequeno sinal de simpatia.

En Por fim, ela foi completamente dominada pela dor e foi para o seu quarto.

Capítulo IX

En Pode a voz da Música, o olho da Beleza, ou a mão radiante da Pintura dar um encanto tão adequado à minha mente quanto esta rajada oca de vento? Podem elas igualar este pequeno riacho chorão, tilintando suavemente pela colina coberta de musgo? No oeste, o dia carmesim se põe. Ali o Crepúsculo manso navega devagar e acena com suas bandeiras cinzentas. MASON

En Algum tempo depois de Emily voltar para La Vallee, ela recebeu cartas de sua tia, Madame Cheron. Depois de algumas palavras comuns de simpatia e conselho, Madame Cheron a convidou para Tholouse e acrescentou que, já que seu falecido irmão tinha confiado a educação de Emily a ela, precisava vigiar o comportamento de Emily. Nessa época, Emily só queria ficar em La Vallee, entre os lugares onde uma vez fora feliz e que agora lhe eram mais queridos por terem sido o lar daqueles que tinha perdido para sempre. Ali podia chorar sem ser vista, caminhar de novo em memória pelos caminhos deles e se lembrar de cada pequena parte de suas vidas. Mas também temia deixar Madame Cheron zangada.

En Embora seu amor por St. Aubert a fizesse ter certeza de que ele tinha escolhido Madame Cheron com sabedoria como sua tutora, ela ainda sabia que essa escolha significava que sua felicidade dependia muito do humor da tia. Em sua resposta, pediu para ficar por enquanto em La Vallee. Disse que estava profundamente triste e precisava de paz e sossego para se recuperar. Sabia que não encontraria isso na casa de Madame Cheron, onde a vida era cheia de prazer e gastos, e sua grande fortuna incentivava esse estilo de vida. Depois de enviar sua resposta, sentiu-se um pouco mais calma.

En Nos primeiros dias de sua dor, o senhor Barreaux veio visitá-la. Ele era um verdadeiro enlutado por St. Aubert. 'Tenho todos os motivos para sentir falta do meu amigo,' disse ele, 'pois nunca vou encontrar outro como ele. Se eu tivesse encontrado um homem assim na sociedade, nunca a teria deixado.'

En A admiração do senhor Barreaux pelo seu pai fez Emily gostar muito dele. Conversar com um homem que respeitava tanto lhe deu um dos primeiros consolos que sentiu. Podia falar sobre seus pais com ele, e ele tinha um coração tão bom e uma mente tão gentil, mesmo que não parecesse simpático à primeira vista.

En Várias semanas se passaram em vida tranquila, e a dor de Emily se transformou em uma tristeza profunda. Ela conseguia de novo ler os livros que tinha lido com o pai, sentar-se na cadeira dele na biblioteca, observar as flores que ele tinha plantado, e tocar o instrumento que ele tinha tocado. Às vezes até tocava a música favorita dele.

En Depois que o primeiro choque da dor passou, Emily viu o perigo da preguiça. Sabia que só a atividade poderia ajudá-la a se recuperar, então tentava passar cada hora fazendo algo útil. Agora entendia o quanto era valiosa a educação de St. Aubert. Ele tinha treinado sua mente para que ela pudesse evitar a ociosidade sem precisar de uma vida social agitada. Também tinha lhe dado interesses e conhecimentos ricos, mesmo que ela estivesse afastada das pessoas. Seu ensinamento fez mais do que ajudá-la a si mesma. Ele tinha cultivado todos os bons sentimentos no coração dela, então agora ela sentia bondade por todos ao seu redor. Quando não podia remover os problemas dos outros, podia ao menos aliviá-los com simpatia e gentileza. Aprendeu a se importar com todos os que sofriam.

En Madame Cheron não respondeu à carta de Emily, e Emily começou a ter esperança de que pudesse ficar em seu retiro tranquilo por mais um tempo. Sua mente tinha se recuperado o bastante para lhe permitir visitar lugares que traziam lembranças fortes. Um deles era a casa de pesca. Para aprofundar o prazer triste da visita, ela levou seu alaúde para poder ouvir de novo os sons que St. Aubert e sua mãe tinham amado. Foi sozinha no entardecer calmo, uma hora que acalma tanto a mente quanto a dor. Da última vez que estivera ali, tinha estado com o senhor e a senhora St. Aubert, apenas alguns dias antes de a senhora St. Aubert adoecer e morrer. Agora, quando Emily entrou nos bosques ao redor do prédio, as lembranças voltaram com tanta força que ela desabou de imediato. Parou, apoiou-se em uma árvore e chorou por vários minutos antes de conseguir continuar. O caminho até o prédio estava coberto de grama, e as flores que St. Aubert tinha espalhado ao longo da borda estavam quase escondidas pelo mato. Ela parava frequentemente para olhar aquele lugar triste e abandonado. Quando abriu a porta com a mão trêmula, disse: 'Ah! tudo continua como quando o deixei pela última vez, deixei com aqueles que nunca mais devem voltar!' Foi até uma janela acima do riacho e olhou para a água, perdida em pensamentos tristes. O alaúde ao seu lado foi esquecido. O suspiro do vento nos pinheiros altos e seus sons suaves entre os salgueiros na margem combinavam com seus sentimentos. Isso a confortava como a própria piedade. Continuou pensando, sem notar o entardecer escurecendo nem o último raio de sol nas colinas, até que um passo repentino do lado de fora a assustou. De imediato se lembrou de que estava sozinha e desprotegida. Então uma porta se abriu e um estranho apareceu. Ele parou ao ver Emily e começou a se desculpar por ter entrado. Mas Emily ouviu sua voz e seu medo se transformou em um sentimento mais forte. A voz era familiar, e embora a luz estivesse fraca demais para ver o rosto dele com clareza, ela se sentiu segura o bastante para confiar na memória.

En Ele repetiu suas desculpas, e Emily respondeu. Então o estranho avançou ansiosamente e disse: 'Meu Deus! Pode ser - com certeza não estou enganado - mademoiselle St. Aubert? Não é?'

En 'É sim,' disse Emily. Ela agora via que era Valancourt, e seu rosto mostrava ainda mais vida do que o normal. Muitas lembranças dolorosas correram para sua mente, e o esforço para se manter calma só a deixou mais perturbada. Valancourt perguntou gentilmente sobre a saúde dela e disse que esperava que a viagem tivesse ajudado o senhor St. Aubert. Mas as lágrimas de Emily logo lhe contaram a terrível verdade. Ele a levou até um assento e se sentou ao lado dela. Emily continuou chorando, e Valancourt segurou sua mão, sem sequer perceber que a tinha pegado, até que ela ficou molhada de lágrimas, de dor por St. Aubert e de pena por ela.

En 'Sinto,' disse ele por fim, 'que não posso consolá-la nisso. Só posso sofrer com você, porque não posso duvidar do que suas lágrimas significam. Quisera a Deus estar enganado!'

Chapter I

B1 Português (simplified)

O lar é o lugar do amor, da alegria, da paz e da fartura, onde amigos e familiares se apoiam e vivem felizes juntos.

Original English

home is the resort Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where, Supporting and supported, polish'd friends And dear relations mingle into bliss.* *Thomson

Original Português

o lar é o refúgio Do amor, da alegria, da paz e da fartura, onde, Amparando e amparados, amigos polidos E caros parentes se fundem em ventura.* *Thomson

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B1 Português (simplified)

Em 1584, o castelo de Monsieur St. Aubert ficava nas margens agradáveis do rio Garonne, na Gasconha. De suas janelas, dava para ver o campo de Guienne e da Gasconha ao longo do rio, com bosques ricos, videiras e oliveiras. Ao sul, erguiam-se os grandes Pirineus, às vezes escondidos pelas nuvens e às vezes vistos em formas claras e nítidas. Em alguns momentos, pareciam nus e pálidos no ar, e em outros, florestas escuras de pinheiros cobriam suas encostas. Esses penhascos altos eram suavizados pelos campos verdes e bosques mais abaixo, com rebanhos, gado e casinhas simples. Ao norte e a leste, as planícies de Guienne e Languedoc desapareciam na neblina. A oeste, a Gasconha terminava nas águas da Biscaia.

Original English

On the pleasant banks of the Garonne, in the province of Gascony, stood, in the year 1584, the chateau of Monsieur St. Aubert. From its windows were seen the pastoral landscapes of Guienne and Gascony stretching along the river, gay with luxuriant woods and vine, and plantations of olives. To the south, the view was bounded by the majestic Pyrenees, whose summits, veiled in clouds, or exhibiting awful forms, seen, and lost again, as the partial vapours rolled along, were sometimes barren, and gleamed through the blue tinge of air, and sometimes frowned with forests of gloomy pine, that swept downward to their base. These tremendous precipices were contrasted by the soft green of the pastures and woods that hung upon their skirts; among whose flocks, and herds, and simple cottages, the eye, after having scaled the cliffs above, delighted to repose. To the north, and to the east, the plains of Guienne and Languedoc were lost in the mist of distance; on the west, Gascony was bounded by the waters of Biscay.

Original Português

Nas aprazíveis margens do Garonne, na província da Gasconha, erguia-se, no ano de 1584, o castelo de Monsieur St. Aubert. De suas janelas avistavam-se as paisagens pastoris de Guienne e da Gasconha, que se estendiam ao longo do rio, alegres com bosques luxuriantes e vinhedos, e plantações de oliveiras. Ao sul, a vista era limitada pelos majestosos Pirineus, cujos cumes, velados por nuvens, ou exibindo formas terríveis, ora vistos, ora de novo perdidos, à medida que os vapores esparsos rolavam adiante, eram por vezes estéreis, e reluziam através do tom azulado do ar, e por vezes se anuviavam com florestas de pinheiros sombrios, que desciam varrendo até a sua base. Esses tremendos precipícios contrastavam com o verde suave dos pastos e bosques que pendiam por suas encostas; entre cujos rebanhos, e manadas, e simples casebres, o olhar, depois de haver escalado os rochedos acima, deleitava-se em repousar. Ao norte e ao leste, as planícies de Guienne e do Languedoc perdiam-se na bruma da distância; a oeste, a Gasconha era limitada pelas águas de Biscaia.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Monsieur St. Aubert gostava de caminhar com a esposa e a filha pelas margens do Garonne e ouvir a música que vinha da água. Ele já tinha conhecido o mundo além da vida tranquila do campo e tinha participado de círculos sociais animados e agitados. Mas a imagem bondosa que ele havia formado das pessoas em sua juventude mudou tristemente com a experiência. Ainda assim, suas crenças continuaram fortes e sua bondade não desapareceu. Ele deixou a multidão, mais por pena do que por raiva, em busca da paz da natureza, dos livros e da vida em família.

Original English

M. St. Aubert loved to wander, with his wife and daughter, on the margin of the Garonne, and to listen to the music that floated on its waves. He had known life in other forms than those of pastoral simplicity, having mingled in the gay and in the busy scenes of the world; but the flattering portrait of mankind, which his heart had delineated in early youth, his experience had too sorrowfully corrected. Yet, amidst the changing visions of life, his principles remained unshaken, his benevolence unchilled; and he retired from the multitude 'more in PITY than in anger,'to scenes of simple nature, to the pure delights of literature, and to the exercise of domestic virtues.

Original Português

M. St. Aubert gostava de vagar, com sua esposa e sua filha, à margem do Garonne, e de escutar a música que flutuava sobre suas ondas. Conhecera a vida sob outras formas que não as da simplicidade pastoril, tendo-se misturado às cenas alegres e atarefadas do mundo; mas o retrato lisonjeiro da humanidade, que seu coração delineara na primeira juventude, a experiência o corrigira com demasiada tristeza. Contudo, em meio às visões cambiantes da vida, seus princípios permaneceram inabaláveis, sua benevolência não esfriou; e retirou-se da multidão 'mais por PIEDADE do que por cólera', para cenas da simples natureza, para os puros deleites da literatura, e para o exercício das virtudes domésticas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ele vinha de um ramo mais novo de uma família famosa. O plano era que sua falta de dinheiro fosse resolvida por um casamento rico ou por sucesso na política. Mas St. Aubert tinha honra demais para a segunda opção e ambição de menos para a primeira. Depois que o pai morreu, ele se casou com uma mulher muito gentil, de nascimento igual, mas não mais rica. A generosidade, ou o desperdício, de seu pai tinha deixado os negócios da família em dificuldades. Por isso ele vendeu parte das terras da família a Monsieur Quesnel, irmão de sua esposa. Depois se retirou para uma pequena propriedade na Gasconha. Ali ele aproveitou o casamento, a família, o conhecimento e o talento.

Original English

He was a descendant from the younger branch of an illustrious family, and it was designed, that the deficiency of his patrimonial wealth should be supplied either by a splendid alliance in marriage, or by success in the intrigues of public affairs. But St. Aubert had too nice a sense of honour to fulfil the latter hope, and too small a portion of ambition to sacrifice what he called happiness, to the attainment of wealth. After the death of his father he married a very amiable woman, his equal in birth, and not his superior in fortune. The late Monsieur St. Aubert's liberality, or extravagance, had so much involved his affairs, that his son found it necessary to dispose of a part of the family domain, and, some years after his marriage, he sold it to Monsieur Quesnel, the brother of his wife, and retired to a small estate in Gascony, where conjugal felicity, and parental duties, divided his attention with the treasures of knowledge and the illuminations of genius.

Original Português

Descendia do ramo mais jovem de uma ilustre família, e planejara-se que a deficiência de seu patrimônio fosse suprida ou por uma esplêndida aliança matrimonial, ou pelo êxito nas intrigas dos negócios públicos. Mas St. Aubert tinha um senso de honra demasiado delicado para cumprir a última esperança, e uma porção de ambição demasiado pequena para sacrificar aquilo que chamava de felicidade à obtenção de riqueza. Após a morte do pai, casou-se com uma mulher muito amável, sua igual em nascimento, e não sua superior em fortuna. A liberalidade, ou extravagância, do finado Monsieur St. Aubert de tal modo enredara seus negócios que o filho achou necessário dispor de uma parte do domínio da família e, alguns anos depois de seu casamento, vendeu-a a Monsieur Quesnel, o irmão de sua esposa, e retirou-se para uma pequena propriedade na Gasconha, onde a felicidade conjugal e os deveres paternais dividiam sua atenção com os tesouros do conhecimento e as iluminações do gênio.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ele amava aquele lugar desde criança. Costumava visitá-lo quando era menino. O velho camponês gentil que cuidava do lugar lhe dava frutas e creme. Essas lembranças felizes nunca o abandonaram. Ele lembrava dos campos verdes onde corria como um jovem saudável e livre. Lembrava dos bosques onde sentiu pela primeira vez uma melancolia triste que mais tarde se tornou parte de seu caráter. Lembrava dos caminhos da montanha, do rio e das planícies distantes. Quando finalmente deixou o mundo, veio para cá para tornar seu sonho realidade.

Original English

To this spot he had been attached from his infancy. He had often made excursions to it when a boy, and the impressions of delight given to his mind by the homely kindness of the grey-headed peasant, to whom it was intrusted, and whose fruit and cream never failed, had not been obliterated by succeeding circumstances. The green pastures along which he had so often bounded in the exultation of health, and youthful freedom - the woods, under whose refreshing shade he had first indulged that pensive melancholy, which afterwards made a strong feature of his character - the wild walks of the mountains, the river, on whose waves he had floated, and the distant plains, which seemed boundless as his early hopes - were never after remembered by St. Aubert but with enthusiasm and regret. At length he disengaged himself from the world, and retired hither, to realize the wishes of many years.

Original Português

A esse lugar estivera afeiçoado desde a infância. Fizera para lá frequentes excursões quando menino, e as impressões de deleite dadas à sua mente pela singela bondade do camponês de cabelos grisalhos, a quem fora confiado, e cuja fruta e creme nunca faltavam, não haviam sido apagadas pelas circunstâncias que se seguiram. Os verdes pastos ao longo dos quais tantas vezes saltara na exultação da saúde e da liberdade juvenil - os bosques, sob cuja sombra revigorante primeiro se entregara àquela pensativa melancolia, que depois se tornou um traço marcante de seu caráter - os caminhos selvagens das montanhas, o rio, sobre cujas ondas flutuara, e as planícies distantes, que pareciam ilimitadas como suas primeiras esperanças - nunca mais foram lembrados por St. Aubert senão com entusiasmo e pesar. Por fim, desligou-se do mundo e retirou-se para cá, a fim de realizar os desejos de muitos anos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

O prédio era apenas uma casa de verão. Era interessante para os estranhos por causa de sua beleza simples e da bela vista ao redor. St. Aubert tinha carinho por cada parte da casa desde a juventude. Ele não deixava tirar nem uma pedra do lugar. Assim, o novo prédio combinava com o estilo antigo, e juntos formavam um lar simples e elegante. O bom gosto de Madame St. Aubert aparecia por dentro. Os móveis e as decorações eram tão simples e puros quanto as pessoas que ali viviam.

Original English

The building, as it then stood, was merely a summer cottage, rendered interesting to a stranger by its neat simplicity, or the beauty of the surrounding scene; and considerable additions were necessary to make it a comfortable family residence. St. Aubert felt a kind of affection for every part of the fabric, which he remembered in his youth, and would not suffer a stone of it to be removed, so that the new building, adapted to the style of the old one, formed with it only a simple and elegant residence. The taste of Madame St. Aubert was conspicuous in its internal finishing, where the same chaste simplicity was observable in the furniture, and in the few ornaments of the apartments, that characterized the manners of its inhabitants.

Original Português

O edifício, tal como então se achava, não passava de uma casa de veraneio, tornada interessante a um forasteiro por sua asseada simplicidade, ou pela beleza da cena circundante; e consideráveis acréscimos eram necessários para fazer dela uma confortável residência de família. St. Aubert nutria uma espécie de afeição por cada parte da construção, que recordava da juventude, e não permitiria que uma só pedra dela fosse removida, de sorte que o novo edifício, adaptado ao estilo do antigo, formava com ele apenas uma residência simples e elegante. O gosto de Madame St. Aubert transparecia no acabamento interior, onde a mesma casta simplicidade se observava nos móveis, e nos poucos ornamentos dos aposentos, que caracterizavam os modos de seus habitantes.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A biblioteca ficava do lado oeste do castelo. Tinha muitos bons livros em línguas antigas e modernas. A biblioteca dava para um bosque numa suave descida até o rio. Árvores altas criavam uma sombra triste, mas agradável. Das janelas, dava para ver a paisagem larga a oeste e os Pirineus à esquerda. Perto da biblioteca havia uma estufa com plantas raras e bonitas. St. Aubert amava a botânica. Ele passava dias inteiros nas montanhas próximas, estudando plantas. Às vezes sua esposa e sua filha iam com ele. Levavam uma cesta para as plantas e outra com comida. Caminhavam entre as paisagens mais bonitas e selvagens. Quando ficavam cansados de andar por penhascos íngremes, encontravam um lugar verde na montanha. Ali, debaixo de altos larícios ou cedros, comiam sua refeição simples. O riacho fresco e o cheiro das flores e ervas silvestres tornavam tudo ainda mais agradável.

Original English

The library occupied the west side of the chateau, and was enriched by a collection of the best books in the ancient and modern languages. This room opened upon a grove, which stood on the brow of a gentle declivity, that fell towards the river, and the tall trees gave it a melancholy and pleasing shade; while from the windows the eye caught, beneath the spreading branches, the gay and luxuriant landscape stretching to the west, and overlooked on the left by the bold precipices of the Pyrenees. Adjoining the library was a green-house, stored with scarce and beautiful plants; for one of the amusements of St. Aubert was the study of botany, and among the neighbouring mountains, which afforded a luxurious feast to the mind of the naturalist, he often passed the day in the pursuit of his favourite science. He was sometimes accompanied in these little excursions by Madame St. Aubert, and frequently by his daughter; when, with a small osier basket to receive plants, and another filled with cold refreshments, such as the cabin of the shepherd did not afford, they wandered away among the most romantic and magnificent scenes, nor suffered the charms of Nature's lowly children to abstract them from the observance of her stupendous works. When weary of sauntering among cliffs that seemed scarcely accessible but to the steps of the enthusiast, and where no track appeared on the vegetation, but what the foot of the izard had left; they would seek one of those green recesses, which so beautifully adorn the bosom of these mountains, where, under the shade of the lofty larch, or cedar, they enjoyed their simple repast, made sweeter by the waters of the cool stream, that crept along the turf, and by the breath of wild flowers and aromatic plants, that fringed the rocks, and inlaid the grass.

Original Português

A biblioteca ocupava o lado oeste do castelo, e era enriquecida por uma coleção dos melhores livros nas línguas antigas e modernas. Esse aposento abria-se para um bosque, que se erguia na crista de um suave declive, que descia em direção ao rio, e as altas árvores davam-lhe uma sombra melancólica e agradável; enquanto das janelas o olhar colhia, sob os ramos que se espalhavam, a alegre e luxuriante paisagem que se estendia para o oeste, dominada à esquerda pelos audazes precipícios dos Pirineus. Contígua à biblioteca havia uma estufa, provida de plantas raras e belas; pois um dos passatempos de St. Aubert era o estudo da botânica, e entre as montanhas vizinhas, que ofereciam um festim luxuriante à mente do naturalista, ele muitas vezes passava o dia na busca de sua ciência predileta. Era por vezes acompanhado nessas pequenas excursões por Madame St. Aubert, e frequentemente por sua filha; quando, com um pequeno cesto de vime para receber as plantas, e outro cheio de refrescos frios, tais como o casebre do pastor não podia oferecer, vagavam para longe entre as cenas mais românticas e magníficas, nem deixavam que os encantos dos humildes filhos da Natureza os desviassem da contemplação de suas obras estupendas. Quando cansados de perambular entre rochedos que pareciam mal acessíveis senão aos passos do entusiasta, e onde nenhum rastro aparecia na vegetação, salvo o que a pata da camurça deixara, buscavam um daqueles verdes recantos, que tão belamente adornam o seio dessas montanhas, onde, à sombra do alto lariço, ou do cedro, desfrutavam de sua simples refeição, tornada mais doce pelas águas do fresco regato, que rastejava pela relva, e pelo hálito das flores silvestres e das plantas aromáticas, que orlavam as rochas e incrustavam a relva.

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B1 Português (simplified)

No lado leste da estufa, voltado para as planícies de Languedoc, havia um quarto que Emily chamava de seu. Nele estavam seus livros, desenhos, instrumentos musicais e alguns pássaros e plantas favoritos. Ali ela praticava suas artes elegantes. Ela aprendia porque amava aquilo. Com a ajuda dos pais, tornou-se habilidosa desde cedo. As janelas desse quarto eram muito bonitas. Iam até o chão e se abriam para um pequeno gramado ao redor da casa. Dali, o olhar seguia entre bosquetes de amêndoa, palmeiras, freixos floridos e murtas até a vista distante, onde o rio Garonne serpenteava.

Original English

Adjoining the eastern side of the green-house, looking towards the plains of Languedoc, was a room, which Emily called hers, and which contained her books, her drawings, her musical instruments, with some favourite birds and plants. Here she usually exercised herself in elegant arts, cultivated only because they were congenial to her taste, and in which native genius, assisted by the instructions of Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert, made her an early proficient. The windows of this room were particularly pleasant; they descended to the floor, and, opening upon the little lawn that surrounded the house, the eye was led between groves of almond, palm-trees, flowering-ash, and myrtle, to the distant landscape, where the Garonne wandered.

Original Português

Contíguo ao lado oriental da estufa, voltado para as planícies do Languedoc, havia um aposento, a que Emily chamava seu, e que continha seus livros, seus desenhos, seus instrumentos musicais, com alguns pássaros e plantas prediletos. Ali costumava exercitar-se nas artes elegantes, cultivadas apenas por serem afins ao seu gosto, e nas quais o gênio inato, auxiliado pelas instruções de Monsieur e Madame St. Aubert, cedo a tornara proficiente. As janelas desse aposento eram particularmente aprazíveis; desciam até o chão e, abrindo-se para o pequeno gramado que rodeava a casa, o olhar era conduzido por entre bosques de amendoeiras, palmeiras, freixos floridos e murtas, até a paisagem distante, por onde o Garonne serpenteava.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Nas noites, depois do trabalho do dia terminado, os camponeses daquela terra alegre eram vistos com frequência dançando em grupos perto do rio. Suas canções animadas, os passos fáceis, os padrões de dança divertidos e o jeito como as moças arrumavam suas roupas simples davam à cena um caráter bem francês.

Original English

The peasants of this gay climate were often seen on an evening, when the day's labour was done, dancing in groups on the margin of the river. Their sprightly melodies, debonnaire steps, the fanciful figure of their dances, with the tasteful and capricious manner in which the girls adjusted their simple dress, gave a character to the scene entirely French.

Original Português

Os camponeses desse clima alegre eram muitas vezes vistos, ao anoitecer, terminada a labuta do dia, dançando em grupos à margem do rio. Suas melodias vivas, seus passos garbosos, a fantasiosa figura de suas danças, com a maneira graciosa e caprichosa com que as moças ajeitavam suas simples vestes, davam à cena um caráter inteiramente francês.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A frente do castelo ficava voltada para o sul, na direção das montanhas. No térreo, havia um salão simples e duas salas de estar agradáveis. No primeiro andar havia quartos e um cômodo que se abria para uma varanda. Esse cômodo era normalmente usado para o café da manhã.

Original English

The front of the chateau, which, having a southern aspect, opened upon the grandeur of the mountains, was occupied on the ground floor by a rustic hall, and two excellent sitting rooms. The first floor, for the cottage had no second story, was laid out in bed-chambers, except one apartment that opened to a balcony, and which was generally used for a breakfast-room.

Original Português

A fachada do castelo, que, tendo exposição meridional, se abria para a grandeza das montanhas, era ocupada no pavimento térreo por um salão rústico e dois excelentes salões de estar. O primeiro andar, pois a casa não tinha segundo pavimento, distribuía-se em quartos de dormir, exceto um aposento que dava para uma sacada, e que geralmente servia de sala de café da manhã.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert deixava as terras ao redor de sua casa muito bonitas. Mas ele amava coisas antigas de sua infância, então às vezes as mantinha mesmo que não fossem as mais bonitas. Havia dois larícios velhos que bloqueavam a vista, mas ele não quis cortá-los. Também plantou uma pequena floresta de faias, pinheiros e sorveiras. Em um terraço alto perto do rio, plantou laranjeiras, limoeiros e palmeiras. O cheiro das frutas era maravilhoso nas noites frescas. Havia também algumas outras árvores. Debaixo de um grande plátano perto do rio, St. Aubert gostava de sentar-se com a esposa e os filhos nas noites de verão. Eles observavam o pôr do sol e as sombras enquanto a noite chegava. Ele também adorava ler e conversar com a esposa, ou brincar com os filhos. Sentia-se muito feliz e não desejava mais nada. Sabia que estava agindo corretamente, e isso o deixava calmo e grato.

Original English

In the surrounding ground, St. Aubert had made very tasteful improvements; yet, such was his attachment to objects he had remembered from his boyish days, that he had in some instances sacrificed taste to sentiment. There were two old larches that shaded the building, and interrupted the prospect; St. Aubert had sometimes declared that he believed he should have been weak enough to have wept at their fall. In addition to these larches he planted a little grove of beech, pine, and mountain-ash. On a lofty terrace, formed by the swelling bank of the river, rose a plantation of orange, lemon, and palm-trees, whose fruit, in the coolness of evening, breathed delicious fragrance. With these were mingled a few trees of other species. Here, under the ample shade of a plane-tree, that spread its majestic canopy towards the river, St. Aubert loved to sit in the fine evenings of summer, with his wife and children, watching, beneath its foliage, the setting sun, the mild splendour of its light fading from the distant landscape, till the shadows of twilight melted its various features into one tint of sober grey. Here, too, he loved to read, and to converse with Madame St. Aubert; or to play with his children, resigning himself to the influence of those sweet affections, which are ever attendant on simplicity and nature. He has often said, while tears of pleasure trembled in his eyes, that these were moments infinitely more delightful than any passed amid the brilliant and tumultuous scenes that are courted by the world. His heart was occupied; it had, what can be so rarely said, no wish for a happiness beyond what it experienced. The consciousness of acting right diffused a serenity over his manners, which nothing else could impart to a man of moral perceptions like his, and which refined his sense of every surrounding blessing.

Original Português

Nos terrenos ao redor, St. Aubert fizera melhorias de muito bom gosto; contudo, tamanho era seu apego a objetos que recordava dos dias de menino, que em alguns casos sacrificara o gosto ao sentimento. Havia dois velhos lariços que sombreavam o edifício e interrompiam a vista; St. Aubert às vezes declarara acreditar que teria sido fraco o bastante para chorar com a queda deles. Além desses lariços, plantou um pequeno bosque de faias, pinheiros e sorveiras-bravas. Sobre um alto terraço, formado pela margem elevada do rio, erguia-se uma plantação de laranjeiras, limoeiros e palmeiras, cujos frutos, no frescor da tarde, exalavam deliciosa fragrância. A estas se misturavam algumas árvores de outras espécies. Ali, sob a ampla sombra de um plátano, que estendia sua majestosa copa em direção ao rio, St. Aubert gostava de sentar-se nas belas tardes de verão, com sua esposa e seus filhos, observando, sob a folhagem, o sol poente, o suave esplendor de sua luz esmaecendo da paisagem distante, até que as sombras do crepúsculo fundissem seus vários contornos num único tom de cinza sóbrio. Ali, também, gostava de ler, e de conversar com Madame St. Aubert; ou de brincar com os filhos, entregando-se à influência daquelas doces afeições, que sempre acompanham a simplicidade e a natureza. Muitas vezes dizia, enquanto lágrimas de prazer tremiam em seus olhos, que aqueles eram momentos infinitamente mais deliciosos do que quaisquer passados em meio às cenas brilhantes e tumultuosas que o mundo corteja. Seu coração estava ocupado; não tinha, o que tão raramente se pode dizer, desejo algum de felicidade além daquela que experimentava. A consciência de agir com retidão difundia uma serenidade sobre seus modos, que nada mais poderia conferir a um homem de percepções morais como as suas, e que apurava seu senso de cada bênção circundante.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Mesmo no crepúsculo mais profundo, St. Aubert ficava debaixo de seu plátano favorito. Ele amava a hora tranquila em que a última luz desaparece, as estrelas aparecem e a água as reflete. Esse momento o deixava pensativo e, às vezes, elevado. Quando o luar brilhava entre as folhas, ele ficava mais tempo e comia uma ceia simples de creme e frutas debaixo da árvore. Depois, na noite silenciosa, ouvia o canto do rouxinol, que trazia uma doce tristeza.

Original English

The deepest shade of twilight did not send him from his favourite plane-tree. He loved the soothing hour, when the last tints of light die away; when the stars, one by one, tremble through aether, and are reflected on the dark mirror of the waters; that hour, which, of all others, inspires the mind with pensive tenderness, and often elevates it to sublime contemplation. When the moon shed her soft rays among the foliage, he still lingered, and his pastoral supper of cream and fruits was often spread beneath it. Then, on the stillness of night, came the song of the nightingale, breathing sweetness, and awakening melancholy.

Original Português

A mais profunda sombra do crepúsculo não o afastava de seu plátano predileto. Amava aquela hora suave, quando os últimos tons de luz se extinguem; quando as estrelas, uma a uma, tremulam pelo éter, e se refletem no escuro espelho das águas; aquela hora que, mais do que todas as outras, inspira à mente uma pensativa ternura, e muitas vezes a eleva à contemplação sublime. Quando a lua derramava seus suaves raios por entre a folhagem, ele ainda se demorava, e sua ceia pastoril de creme e frutas era muitas vezes servida sob ela. Então, no silêncio da noite, vinha o canto do rouxinol, exalando doçura e despertando a melancolia.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Os primeiros acontecimentos tristes depois de sua aposentadoria foram as mortes de seus dois filhos. Eles morreram ainda jovens e encantadores. St. Aubert tentou esconder sua tristeza por causa da esposa, mas não conseguia ficar calmo diante de perdas assim. Restou apenas uma filha. Ele a viu crescer com amor e tentou ajudá-la a evitar a infelicidade. Ela era muito sensível e gentil, mas delicada demais para estar sempre em paz. Conforme crescia, sua sensibilidade a tornava pensativa e delicada, o que dava graça à sua beleza. Mas St. Aubert sabia que essa qualidade podia ser perigosa. Ele tentou fortalecer a mente dela e ensiná-la a controlar seus sentimentos. Às vezes lhe dava pequenas decepções para que ela aprendesse a pensar antes de reagir. Ensinou-a a ser calma e forte. Isso também era difícil para ele, pois precisava vê-la lutar sem mostrar seus próprios sentimentos.

Original English

The first interruptions to the happiness he had known since his retirement, were occasioned by the death of his two sons. He lost them at that age when infantine simplicity is so fascinating; and though, in consideration of Madame St. Aubert's distress, he restrained the expression of his own, and endeavoured to bear it, as he meant, with philosophy, he had, in truth, no philosophy that could render him calm to such losses. One daughter was now his only surviving child; and, while he watched the unfolding of her infant character, with anxious fondness, he endeavoured, with unremitting effort, to counteract those traits in her disposition, which might hereafter lead her from happiness. She had discovered in her early years uncommon delicacy of mind, warm affections, and ready benevolence; but with these was observable a degree of susceptibility too exquisite to admit of lasting peace. As she advanced in youth, this sensibility gave a pensive tone to her spirits, and a softness to her manner, which added grace to beauty, and rendered her a very interesting object to persons of a congenial disposition. But St. Aubert had too much good sense to prefer a charm to a virtue; and had penetration enough to see, that this charm was too dangerous to its possessor to be allowed the character of a blessing. He endeavoured, therefore, to strengthen her mind; to enure her to habits of self-command; to teach her to reject the first impulse of her feelings, and to look, with cool examination, upon the disappointments he sometimes threw in her way. While he instructed her to resist first impressions, and to acquire that steady dignity of mind, that can alone counterbalance the passions, and bear us, as far as is compatible with our nature, above the reach of circumstances, he taught himself a lesson of fortitude; for he was often obliged to witness, with seeming indifference, the tears and struggles which his caution occasioned her.

Original Português

As primeiras interrupções à felicidade que conhecera desde seu retiro foram ocasionadas pela morte de seus dois filhos. Perdeu-os naquela idade em que a simplicidade infantil é tão fascinante; e, embora, em consideração ao desgosto de Madame St. Aubert, contivesse a expressão do próprio, e se esforçasse por suportá-lo, como pretendia, com filosofia, não tinha, na verdade, filosofia alguma que pudesse torná-lo sereno diante de tais perdas. Uma filha era agora seu único filho sobrevivente; e, enquanto observava o desabrochar de seu caráter infantil, com ansiosa afeição, esforçava-se, com incessante empenho, por contrariar aqueles traços de sua índole que pudessem no futuro afastá-la da felicidade. Ela revelara, nos primeiros anos, uma incomum delicadeza de espírito, afetos calorosos e pronta benevolência; mas com estes observava-se um grau de suscetibilidade demasiado requintado para admitir uma paz duradoura. À medida que avançava na juventude, essa sensibilidade dava um tom pensativo ao seu ânimo, e uma doçura aos seus modos, que acrescentavam graça à beleza, e a tornavam um objeto muito interessante para pessoas de índole afim. Mas St. Aubert tinha bom senso demais para preferir um encanto a uma virtude; e tinha perspicácia bastante para ver que esse encanto era demasiado perigoso para quem o possuía para lhe ser permitido o caráter de bênção. Esforçava-se, pois, por fortalecer-lhe o espírito; por habituá-la a hábitos de autodomínio; por ensiná-la a rejeitar o primeiro impulso de seus sentimentos, e a olhar, com fria análise, para as decepções que às vezes lhe punha no caminho. Enquanto a instruía a resistir às primeiras impressões, e a adquirir aquela firme dignidade de espírito, que sozinha pode contrabalançar as paixões, e nos elevar, tanto quanto é compatível com a nossa natureza, acima do alcance das circunstâncias, ele próprio aprendia uma lição de fortaleza; pois era muitas vezes obrigado a testemunhar, com aparente indiferença, as lágrimas e os debates que sua cautela lhe ocasionava.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily se parecia com a mãe. Tinha a mesma bela silhueta, traços delicados e olhos azuis cheios de doçura. Mas seu rosto adorável ficava ainda mais encantador quando ela mostrava seus sentimentos na conversa.

Original English

In person, Emily resembled her mother; having the same elegant symmetry of form, the same delicacy of features, and the same blue eyes, full of tender sweetness. But, lovely as was her person, it was the varied expression of her countenance, as conversation awakened the nicer emotions of her mind, that threw such a captivating grace around her:

Original Português

Na aparência, Emily assemelhava-se à mãe; tinha a mesma elegante simetria de formas, a mesma delicadeza de feições, e os mesmos olhos azuis, cheios de terna doçura. Mas, por mais encantadora que fosse sua pessoa, era a variada expressão de seu semblante, à medida que a conversa despertava as mais sutis emoções de seu espírito, que lançava em torno dela uma graça tão cativante:

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B1 Português (simplified)

Aquelas cores mais suaves que se escondem de olhos descuidados, e desaparecem na companhia agitada e prejudicial do mundo.

Original English

Those tend'rer tints, that shun the careless eye, And, in the world's contagious circle, die.

Original Português

Aqueles matizes mais ternos, que fogem ao olhar descuidado, E, no círculo contagioso do mundo, fenecem.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert cuidava muito da educação de Emily. Ele lhe deu um amplo conhecimento de ciências e uma compreensão completa da boa literatura. Ensinou-lhe latim e inglês, principalmente para que ela pudesse ler a grandeza dos melhores poetas. Mesmo quando criança, ela amava obras de gênio. St. Aubert acreditava, e também sentia, que toda fonte inofensiva de felicidade deveria ser incentivada. Ele dizia com frequência: "Uma mente bem informada é a melhor proteção contra a tolice e o vício. Uma mente vazia está sempre buscando alívio e pronta para cometer erros só para escapar do tédio. Encha-a de ideias e ensine-a o prazer de pensar. Assim, as tentações de fora serão equilibradas pelos prazeres de dentro. O pensamento e o aprendizado são necessários tanto para a vida no campo quanto na cidade. No campo, eles nos ajudam a evitar o desconforto da preguiça e nos dão uma alegria profunda com a beleza e a grandeza. Na cidade, tornam a busca constante por prazer menos necessária, e por isso menos tentadora."

Original English

St. Aubert cultivated her understanding with the most scrupulous care. He gave her a general view of the sciences, and an exact acquaintance with every part of elegant literature. He taught her Latin and English, chiefly that she might understand the sublimity of their best poets. She discovered in her early years a taste for works of genius; and it was St. Aubert's principle, as well as his inclination, to promote every innocent means of happiness. 'A well-informed mind,'he would say, 'is the best security against the contagion of folly and of vice. The vacant mind is ever on the watch for relief, and ready to plunge into error, to escape from the languor of idleness. Store it with ideas, teach it the pleasure of thinking; and the temptations of the world without, will be counteracted by the gratifications derived from the world within. Thought, and cultivation, are necessary equally to the happiness of a country and a city life; in the first they prevent the uneasy sensations of indolence, and afford a sublime pleasure in the taste they create for the beautiful, and the grand; in the latter, they make dissipation less an object of necessity, and consequently of interest.'

Original Português

St. Aubert cultivava-lhe o entendimento com o mais escrupuloso cuidado. Deu-lhe uma visão geral das ciências, e um exato conhecimento de cada parte da literatura elegante. Ensinou-lhe latim e inglês, principalmente para que pudesse compreender a sublimidade de seus melhores poetas. Ela revelou, nos primeiros anos, um gosto pelas obras de gênio; e era princípio de St. Aubert, tanto quanto sua inclinação, promover todo meio inocente de felicidade. 'Uma mente bem informada', costumava dizer, 'é a melhor salvaguarda contra o contágio da tolice e do vício. A mente vazia está sempre à espreita de alívio, e pronta a lançar-se no erro, para escapar ao langor da ociosidade. Abastece-a de ideias, ensina-lhe o prazer de pensar; e as tentações do mundo exterior serão contrabalançadas pelas gratificações extraídas do mundo interior. O pensamento e o cultivo são igualmente necessários à felicidade da vida no campo e na cidade; na primeira, previnem as inquietas sensações da indolência, e proporcionam um prazer sublime no gosto que criam pelo belo e pelo grandioso; na segunda, tornam a dissipação menos objeto de necessidade e, por conseguinte, de interesse.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Um dos primeiros prazeres de Emily era caminhar entre as paisagens da natureza. O que mais lhe agradava não era a paisagem suave e brilhante. Ela amava ainda mais as caminhadas selvagens pelos bosques ao lado da montanha. Acima de tudo, amava os grandes recantos escondidos da montanha. Ali, o silêncio e a grandeza da solidão enchiam seu coração de um temor sagrado. Eles elevavam seus pensamentos ao DEUS DO CÉU E DA TERRA. Nesses lugares, ela muitas vezes ficava, envolta em um encanto melancólico, até que o último brilho do dia desaparecesse a oeste. Então só um sino solitário de ovelha ou o latido distante de um cão de guarda quebrava a quietude da noite. A escuridão dos bosques, as folhas que tremiam de vez em quando na brisa, o morcego que esvoaçava no crepúsculo, e as luzes das casinhas que apareciam e desapareciam - tudo isso agitava sua mente e a levava ao entusiasmo e à poesia.

Original English

It was one of Emily's earliest pleasures to ramble among the scenes of nature; nor was it in the soft and glowing landscape that she most delighted; she loved more the wild wood-walks, that skirted the mountain; and still more the mountain's stupendous recesses, where the silence and grandeur of solitude impressed a sacred awe upon her heart, and lifted her thoughts to the GOD OF HEAVEN AND EARTH. In scenes like these she would often linger along, wrapt in a melancholy charm, till the last gleam of day faded from the west; till the lonely sound of a sheep-bell, or the distant bark of a watch-dog, were all that broke on the stillness of the evening. Then, the gloom of the woods; the trembling of their leaves, at intervals, in the breeze; the bat, flitting on the twilight; the cottage-lights, now seen, and now lost - were circumstances that awakened her mind into effort, and led to enthusiasm and poetry.

Original Português

Um dos primeiros prazeres de Emily era vaguear pelas cenas da natureza; nem era na paisagem suave e resplandecente que mais se deleitava; amava mais os caminhos silvestres do bosque, que orlavam a montanha; e mais ainda os estupendos recantos da montanha, onde o silêncio e a grandeza da solidão imprimiam um sagrado temor em seu coração, e elevavam seus pensamentos ao DEUS DO CÉU E DA TERRA. Em cenas como essas, ela muitas vezes se demorava, envolta num encanto melancólico, até que o último clarão do dia se apagasse a oeste; até que o solitário som de um chocalho de ovelha, ou o distante latido de um cão de guarda, fossem tudo o que rompia a quietude da tarde. Então, a penumbra dos bosques; o tremular de suas folhas, a intervalos, na brisa; o morcego, esvoaçando no crepúsculo; as luzes dos casebres, ora vistas, ora perdidas - eram circunstâncias que despertavam sua mente ao esforço, e a conduziam ao entusiasmo e à poesia.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Sua caminhada favorita era até uma pequena casa de pesca em um vale arborizado perto de um riacho. O riacho vinha dos Pirineus, formava espuma entre as pedras e depois corria calmamente por baixo das árvores. Acima dos bosques ficavam os picos altos dos Pirineus, às vezes vistos por entre as árvores. Ela conseguia ver uma face de rocha quebrada com arbustos selvagens, ou a cabana de um pastor num penhasco, sob ciprestes escuros ou freixos. Dos bosques profundos, a vista se abria para a paisagem distante. Ali, os campos ricos e as encostas cobertas de videiras da Gasconha desciam até as planícies. Nas margens sinuosas do rio Garonne havia bosques, vilarejos e casas de campo. Tudo parecia suave e se misturava em uma rica harmonia.

Original English

Her favourite walk was to a little fishing-house, belonging to St. Aubert, in a woody glen, on the margin of a rivulet that descended from the Pyrenees, and, after foaming among their rocks, wound its silent way beneath the shades it reflected. Above the woods, that screened this glen, rose the lofty summits of the Pyrenees, which often burst boldly on the eye through the glades below. Sometimes the shattered face of a rock only was seen, crowned with wild shrubs; or a shepherd's cabin seated on a cliff, overshadowed by dark cypress, or waving ash. Emerging from the deep recesses of the woods, the glade opened to the distant landscape, where the rich pastures and vine-covered slopes of Gascony gradually declined to the plains; and there, on the winding shores of the Garonne, groves, and hamlets, and villas - their outlines softened by distance, melted from the eye into one rich harmonious tint.

Original Português

Seu passeio predileto era até uma pequena casa de pesca, pertencente a St. Aubert, num vale arborizado, à margem de um riacho que descia dos Pirineus e, depois de espumar entre suas rochas, seguia seu silencioso caminho sob as sombras que refletia. Acima dos bosques, que resguardavam esse vale, erguiam-se os altos cumes dos Pirineus, que muitas vezes irrompiam audazes à vista por entre as clareiras abaixo. Às vezes via-se apenas a face despedaçada de uma rocha, coroada de arbustos silvestres; ou a cabana de um pastor assentada num rochedo, ensombrada por escuro cipreste, ou por freixo ondulante. Emergindo dos profundos recessos dos bosques, a clareira abria-se para a paisagem distante, onde os ricos pastos e as encostas cobertas de vinhas da Gasconha declinavam gradualmente para as planícies; e ali, nas sinuosas margens do Garonne, bosques, e aldeolas, e vilas - seus contornos suavizados pela distância, dissolviam-se ao olhar num único e rico tom harmonioso.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Esse era também o refúgio favorito de St. Aubert. Ele costumava ir para lá no calor do dia com a esposa, a filha e seus livros. Também vinha ao entardecer suave para aproveitar o crepúsculo tranquilo ou escutar o canto do rouxinol. Às vezes trazia sua própria música e tocava seu oboé, despertando pequenos ecos com seu som terno. Muitas vezes a voz de Emily também dava doçura às ondas, flutuando sobre elas.

Original English

This, too, was the favourite retreat of St. Aubert, to which he frequently withdrew from the fervour of noon, with his wife, his daughter, and his books; or came at the sweet evening hour to welcome the silent dusk, or to listen for the music of the nightingale. Sometimes, too, he brought music of his own, and awakened every fairy echo with the tender accents of his oboe; and often have the tones of Emily's voice drawn sweetness from the waves, over which they trembled.

Original Português

Este, também, era o retiro predileto de St. Aubert, para o qual frequentemente se recolhia do ardor do meio-dia, com sua esposa, sua filha e seus livros; ou vinha à doce hora da tarde para acolher o silencioso crepúsculo, ou para escutar a música do rouxinol. Às vezes, também, trazia música própria, e despertava cada eco feérico com os ternos acentos de seu oboé; e muitas vezes os tons da voz de Emily arrancaram doçura das ondas, sobre as quais tremulavam.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Em uma dessas caminhadas até aquele lugar, ela notou estes versos escritos a lápis em parte dos painéis da parede:

Original English

It was in one of these excursions to this spot, that she observed the following lines written with a pencil on a part of the wainscot:

Original Português

Foi numa dessas excursões a esse lugar que ela observou os seguintes versos escritos a lápis numa parte do lambril:

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B1 Português (simplified)

Vai, lápis, e sê fiel aos sentimentos do teu dono! Vai contar à deusa fada, quando ela voltar a caminhar por estes bosques verdes, de onde vêm todas as suas lágrimas e sua doce tristeza. Mostra o rosto dela, seus olhos brilhantes, seu olhar doce e pensativo, e seu sorriso rápido e vivo. A voz de um amante pode dizer tudo o que este coração sente e deseja falar. Mas nem tudo o que o coração sente é alegria. Quantas vezes pétalas macias de flores escondem um veneno capaz de roubar a vida! E quem, olhando aquele sorriso de anjo, temeria seu encanto ou pensaria que ele pudesse enganar?

Original English

SONNET Go, pencil! faithful to thy master's sighs! Go - tell the Goddess of the fairy scene, When next her light steps wind these wood-walks green, Whence all his tears, his tender sorrows, rise; Ah! paint her form, her soul-illumin'd eyes, The sweet expression of her pensive face, The light'ning smile, the animated grace - The portrait well the lover's voice supplies; Speaks all his heart must feel, his tongue would say: Yet ah! not all his heart must sadly feel! How oft the flow'ret's silken leaves conceal The drug that steals the vital spark away! And who that gazes on that angel-smile, Would fear its charm, or think it could beguile!

Original Português

SONETO Vai, lápis! fiel aos suspiros de teu senhor! Vai - dize à Deusa da cena encantada, Quando outra vez seus passos leves percorrerem estas verdes veredas do bosque, De onde brotam todas as suas lágrimas, seus ternos pesares; Ah! retrata sua forma, seus olhos iluminados pela alma, A doce expressão de seu rosto pensativo, O sorriso fulgurante, a graça animada - Bem supre o retrato a voz do amante; Diz tudo o que seu coração há de sentir, o que sua língua diria: Mas ah! nem tudo o que seu coração há de tristemente sentir! Quão amiúde as sedosas pétalas da florzinha ocultam A droga que furta a centelha vital! E quem, ao contemplar aquele sorriso angelical, Temeria seu encanto, ou pensaria que pudesse enganar!

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B1 Português (simplified)

Esses versos não foram escritos para nenhuma pessoa em especial. Emily não conseguia pensar que fossem para ela, embora fosse sem dúvida a ninfa daquelas sombras. Ela olhou para os amigos, mas não sabia para quem os versos eram destinados. Ficou incerta. Mas não teve tempo de pensar sobre isso. A pequena excitação passou. Ela esqueceu o assunto entre seus livros, estudos e a ajuda aos outros.

Original English

These lines were not inscribed to any person; Emily therefore could not apply them to herself, though she was undoubtedly the nymph of these shades. Having glanced round the little circle of her acquaintance without being detained by a suspicion as to whom they could be addressed, she was compelled to rest in uncertainty; an uncertainty which would have been more painful to an idle mind than it was to hers. She had no leisure to suffer this circumstance, trifling at first, to swell into importance by frequent remembrance. The little vanity it had excited (for the incertitude which forbade her to presume upon having inspired the sonnet, forbade her also to disbelieve it) passed away, and the incident was dismissed from her thoughts amid her books, her studies, and the exercise of social charities.

Original Português

Esses versos não eram dirigidos a pessoa alguma; Emily, portanto, não podia aplicá-los a si mesma, embora fosse, sem dúvida, a ninfa dessas sombras. Tendo percorrido com o olhar o pequeno círculo de seus conhecidos sem ser detida por qualquer suspeita quanto a quem pudessem endereçar-se, viu-se compelida a repousar na incerteza; uma incerteza que teria sido mais penosa a uma mente ociosa do que foi à sua. Não tinha lazer para deixar que essa circunstância, a princípio insignificante, se avolumasse em importância pela frequente lembrança. A pequena vaidade que despertara (pois a incerteza que lhe proibia presumir haver inspirado o soneto, proibia-a também de descrê-lo) passou, e o incidente foi banido de seus pensamentos em meio a seus livros, seus estudos, e o exercício das caridades sociais.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Pouco depois disso, Emily ficou preocupada quando seu pai adoeceu com febre. Não se pensava que fosse perigoso, mas isso o deixou muito enfraquecido. Madame St. Aubert e Emily cuidaram dele o tempo todo. Ainda assim, ele melhorou muito devagar. E, à medida que ele ficava mais forte, Madame St. Aubert parecia ficar mais fraca.

Original English

Soon after this period, her anxiety was awakened by the indisposition of her father, who was attacked with a fever; which, though not thought to be of a dangerous kind, gave a severe shock to his constitution. Madame St. Aubert and Emily attended him with unremitting care; but his recovery was very slow, and, as he advanced towards health, Madame seemed to decline.

Original Português

Pouco depois desse período, sua ansiedade foi despertada pela indisposição de seu pai, acometido de uma febre; que, embora não julgada de espécie perigosa, deu um severo abalo à sua constituição. Madame St. Aubert e Emily cuidaram dele com incessante desvelo; mas sua recuperação foi muito lenta, e, à medida que ele avançava rumo à saúde, Madame parecia declinar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando já estava bem o suficiente para sair, o primeiro lugar que visitou foi sua casa de pesca favorita. Comida foi enviada para lá, junto com livros e o alaúde de Emily. Ele não precisava de equipamentos de pesca, porque nunca gostou de machucar ou matar seres vivos por diversão.

Original English

The first scene he visited, after he was well enough to take the air, was his favourite fishing-house. A basket of provisions was sent thither, with books, and Emily's lute; for fishing-tackle he had no use, for he never could find amusement in torturing or destroying.

Original Português

A primeira cena que visitou, depois de estar bem o bastante para tomar ar, foi sua predileta casa de pesca. Um cesto de provisões foi enviado para lá, com livros, e o alaúde de Emily; pois de apetrechos de pesca não tinha uso, já que nunca conseguira encontrar divertimento em torturar ou destruir.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de cerca de uma hora estudando plantas, eles jantaram. Estavam felizes por estar ali novamente. Monsieur St. Aubert conversava alegremente. Tudo parecia lindo. A alegria de ver a natureza depois de estar doente é difícil de descrever para quem tem saúde. Os bosques verdes, as flores, o céu, o ar, o riacho e os insetos tornam a vida maravilhosa.

Original English

After employing himself, for about an hour, in botanizing, dinner was served. It was a repast, to which gratitude, for being again permitted to visit this spot, gave sweetness; and family happiness once more smiled beneath these shades. Monsieur St. Aubert conversed with unusual cheerfulness; every object delighted his senses. The refreshing pleasure from the first view of nature, after the pain of illness, and the confinement of a sick-chamber, is above the conceptions, as well as the descriptions, of those in health. The green woods and pastures; the flowery turf; the blue concave of the heavens; the balmy air; the murmur of the limpid stream; and even the hum of every little insect of the shade, seem to revivify the soul, and make mere existence bliss.

Original Português

Depois de ocupar-se, por cerca de uma hora, colhendo plantas, o jantar foi servido. Era um repasto ao qual a gratidão, por lhe ser de novo permitido visitar esse lugar, dava doçura; e a felicidade familiar mais uma vez sorria sob essas sombras. Monsieur St. Aubert conversava com incomum alegria; cada objeto deleitava seus sentidos. O prazer revigorante da primeira visão da natureza, após a dor da doença, e o confinamento de um quarto de enfermo, está acima das concepções, bem como das descrições, dos que gozam de saúde. Os verdes bosques e pastos; a relva florida; a abóbada azul dos céus; o ar balsâmico; o murmúrio do límpido regato; e até o zumbido de cada pequeno inseto da sombra, parecem reavivar a alma, e fazer da mera existência uma ventura.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Madame St. Aubert se sentia melhor por ver o marido feliz e saudável. Ela caminhava com eles e os olhava com amor, chorando. St. Aubert percebeu isso e disse para ela não se emocionar tanto. Ela sorriu e chorou ainda mais. Ele ficou triste ao pensar que talvez um dia olhasse para trás, para aqueles tempos felizes, com pesar. Mas tentou não pensar nisso.

Original English

Madame St. Aubert, reanimated by the cheerfulness and recovery of her husband, was no longer sensible of the indisposition which had lately oppressed her; and, as she sauntered along the wood-walks of this romantic glen, and conversed with him, and with her daughter, she often looked at them alternately with a degree of tenderness, that filled her eyes with tears. St. Aubert observed this more than once, and gently reproved her for the emotion; but she could only smile, clasp his hand, and that of Emily, and weep the more. He felt the tender enthusiasm stealing upon himself in a degree that became almost painful; his features assumed a serious air, and he could not forbear secretly sighing - 'Perhaps I shall some time look back to these moments, as to the summit of my happiness, with hopeless regret. But let me not misuse them by useless anticipation; let me hope I shall not live to mourn the loss of those who are dearer to me than life.'

Original Português

Madame St. Aubert, reanimada pela alegria e pela recuperação do marido, já não sentia a indisposição que ultimamente a oprimira; e, enquanto passeava pelos caminhos arborizados desse romântico vale, e conversava com ele, e com sua filha, olhava-os muitas vezes alternadamente com um grau de ternura, que lhe enchia os olhos de lágrimas. St. Aubert observou isso mais de uma vez, e gentilmente a repreendeu pela emoção; mas ela só conseguia sorrir, apertar-lhe a mão, e a de Emily, e chorar ainda mais. Ele sentiu o terno enlevo apoderar-se dele próprio a um grau que se tornava quase doloroso; suas feições assumiram um ar grave, e não pôde deixar de suspirar secretamente - 'Talvez algum dia eu venha a olhar para estes momentos, como para o cume da minha felicidade, com irremediável pesar. Mas que eu não os desperdice com inútil antecipação; que eu possa esperar não viver para lamentar a perda daqueles que me são mais caros do que a vida.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Para mudar de humor, ele pediu que Emily tocasse o alaúde. Quando ela se aproximou da casa de pesca, ouviu música. Ficou escutando em silêncio, com medo de se mexer. Tudo estava quieto. Ela não via ninguém. Sentiu-se surpresa, depois encantada, depois assustada, porque se lembrou dos versos escritos que tinha visto antes. Não sabia se devia seguir em frente ou voltar.

Original English

To relieve, or perhaps to indulge, the pensive temper of his mind, he bade Emily fetch the lute she knew how to touch with such sweet pathos. As she drew near the fishing-house, she was surprised to hear the tones of the instrument, which were awakened by the hand of taste, and uttered a plaintive air, whose exquisite melody engaged all her attention. She listened in profound silence, afraid to move from the spot, lest the sound of her steps should occasion her to lose a note of the music, or should disturb the musician. Every thing without the building was still, and no person appeared. She continued to listen, till timidity succeeded to surprise and delight; a timidity, increased by a remembrance of the pencilled lines she had formerly seen, and she hesitated whether to proceed, or to return.

Original Português

Para aliviar, ou talvez para condescender com o temperamento pensativo de seu espírito, pediu a Emily que fosse buscar o alaúde que ela sabia tanger com tão doce pathos. Ao aproximar-se da casa de pesca, surpreendeu-se ao ouvir os tons do instrumento, que eram despertados por uma mão de bom gosto, e emitiam uma ária lamentosa, cuja requintada melodia lhe prendeu toda a atenção. Ela escutou em profundo silêncio, temendo mover-se do lugar, para que o som de seus passos não a fizesse perder uma nota da música, ou não perturbasse o músico. Tudo fora do edifício estava imóvel, e ninguém aparecia. Continuou a escutar, até que a timidez sucedeu à surpresa e ao deleite; uma timidez, aumentada pela lembrança dos versos a lápis que antes vira, e hesitou entre prosseguir ou voltar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto esperava, a música parou. Ela entrou devagar na casa de pesca e a encontrou vazia. Seu alaúde estava sobre a mesa. Ela pensou ter ouvido outro instrumento, mas lembrou que tinha deixado seu alaúde no banco da janela. Sentiu medo. O entardecer e o silêncio a deixaram ainda mais assustada. Ela quis ir embora, mas se sentiu fraca. Sentou-se. Viu de novo os versos na parede e ficou chocada. Tentou se acalmar e foi até a janela. Viu mais versos com o seu nome.

Original English

While she paused, the music ceased; and, after a momentary hesitation, she re-collected courage to advance to the fishing-house, which she entered with faltering steps, and found unoccupied! Her lute lay on the table; every thing seemed undisturbed, and she began to believe it was another instrument she had heard, till she remembered, that, when she followed M. and Madame St. Aubert from this spot, her lute was left on a window seat. She felt alarmed, yet knew not wherefore; the melancholy gloom of evening, and the profound stillness of the place, interrupted only by the light trembling of leaves, heightened her fanciful apprehensions, and she was desirous of quitting the building, but perceived herself grow faint, and sat down. As she tried to recover herself, the pencilled lines on the wainscot met her eye; she started, as if she had seen a stranger; but, endeavouring to conquer the tremor of her spirits, rose, and went to the window. To the lines before noticed she now perceived that others were added, in which her name appeared.

Original Português

Enquanto se detinha, a música cessou; e, após um momentâneo titubeio, reuniu coragem para avançar até a casa de pesca, na qual entrou com passos vacilantes, e a encontrou desocupada! Seu alaúde jazia sobre a mesa; tudo parecia intacto, e ela começou a crer que fora outro instrumento que ouvira, até que se lembrou de que, quando seguira M. e Madame St. Aubert para longe desse lugar, seu alaúde fora deixado num banco de janela. Sentiu-se alarmada, embora não soubesse por quê; a melancólica penumbra da tarde, e a profunda quietude do lugar, interrompida apenas pelo leve tremular das folhas, aumentaram-lhe os fantasiosos receios, e ela desejava deixar o edifício, mas percebeu-se a desfalecer, e sentou-se. Enquanto tentava recobrar-se, os versos a lápis no lambril lhe saltaram aos olhos; ela sobressaltou-se, como se tivesse visto um estranho; mas, esforçando-se por vencer o tremor de seu ânimo, ergueu-se, e foi até a janela. Aos versos antes notados percebeu agora que outros haviam sido acrescentados, nos quais aparecia o seu nome.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Agora ela já não duvidava que os versos eram para ela, mas ainda não sabia quem os tinha escrito. Enquanto pensava nisso, achou que tinha ouvido passos lá fora. Assustada de novo, pegou o alaúde e saiu depressa. Encontrou Monsieur e Madame St. Aubert em um caminho estreito na lateral do vale.

Original English

Though no longer suffered to doubt that they were addressed to herself, she was as ignorant, as before, by whom they could be written. While she mused, she thought she heard the sound of a step without the building, and again alarmed, she caught up her lute, and hurried away. Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert she found in a little path that wound along the sides of the glen.

Original Português

Embora já não lhe fosse permitido duvidar de que eram dirigidos a ela mesma, permanecia tão ignorante como antes de por quem pudessem ter sido escritos. Enquanto meditava, julgou ouvir o som de um passo fora do edifício e, novamente alarmada, apanhou o alaúde e apressou-se a partir. Monsieur e Madame St. Aubert encontrou-os num pequeno atalho que serpenteava pelas encostas do vale.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Eles chegaram ao topo verde de uma colina, sombreado por palmeiras, com vista para os vales e as planícies da Gasconha. Sentaram-se na grama e contemplaram a bela paisagem, respirando o doce perfume das flores e ervas que cresciam no gramado. Emily então tocou e cantou várias de suas canções favoritas, com o sentimento suave e cuidadoso no qual era tão habilidosa.

Original English

Having reached a green summit, shadowed by palm-trees, and overlooking the vallies and plains of Gascony, they seated themselves on the turf; and while their eyes wandered over the glorious scene, and they inhaled the sweet breath of flowers and herbs that enriched the grass, Emily played and sung several of their favourite airs, with the delicacy of expression in which she so much excelled.

Original Português

Tendo alcançado um verde cume, sombreado por palmeiras, e que dava para os vales e planícies da Gasconha, sentaram-se sobre a relva; e enquanto seus olhos vagavam pela gloriosa cena, e inalavam o doce hálito das flores e ervas que enriqueciam a relva, Emily tocou e cantou várias de suas árias prediletas, com a delicadeza de expressão em que tanto se sobressaía.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A música e a conversa os mantiveram naquele lugar encantador até que a última luz do sol repousasse sobre as planícies. As velas brancas abaixo das montanhas, no Garonne, foram ficando fracas, e as sombras da noite cobriram a terra. A cena era triste, mas ainda assim agradável. St. Aubert e sua família se levantaram e partiram com pesar. Tristemente, Madame St. Aubert não sabia que estava deixando aquele lugar para sempre.

Original English

Music and conversation detained them in this enchanting spot, till the sun's last light slept upon the plains; till the white sails that glided beneath the mountains, where the Garonne wandered, became dim, and the gloom of evening stole over the landscape. It was a melancholy but not unpleasing gloom. St. Aubert and his family rose, and left the place with regret; alas! Madame St. Aubert knew not that she left it for ever.

Original Português

A música e a conversa detiveram-nos nesse encantador lugar, até que a última luz do sol adormeceu sobre as planícies; até que as brancas velas que deslizavam sob as montanhas, por onde o Garonne serpenteava, se tornaram indistintas, e a penumbra da tarde se insinuou sobre a paisagem. Era uma penumbra melancólica, mas não desagradável. St. Aubert e sua família ergueram-se, e deixaram o lugar com pesar; ai! Madame St. Aubert não sabia que o deixava para sempre.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando chegaram à casa de pesca, ela percebeu que sua pulseira estava faltando. Lembrou-se de tê-la tirado depois do jantar e deixado sobre a mesa. Procuraram por muito tempo, e Emily ajudou bastante, mas por fim ela aceitou que estava perdida. A pulseira era valiosa porque tinha um pequeno retrato de sua filha, muito parecido com ela, pintado alguns meses antes. Quando Emily teve certeza de que a pulseira tinha sumido, corou e ficou pensativa. Ela já tinha percebido que alguém estivera na casa de pesca durante sua ausência, porque seu alaúde e alguns versos a lápis estavam ali. Os versos sugeriam que a mesma pessoa tinha escrito o poema, tocado a música e levado a pulseira. Embora todos esses acontecimentos fossem muito estranhos, ela não quis falar sobre eles. Decidiu que nunca mais iria à casa de pesca sem os pais.

Original English

When they reached the fishing-house she missed her bracelet, and recollected that she had taken it from her arm after dinner, and had left it on the table when she went to walk. After a long search, in which Emily was very active, she was compelled to resign herself to the loss of it. What made this bracelet valuable to her was a miniature of her daughter to which it was attached, esteemed a striking resemblance, and which had been painted only a few months before. When Emily was convinced that the bracelet was really gone, she blushed, and became thoughtful. That some stranger had been in the fishing-house, during her absence, her lute, and the additional lines of a pencil, had already informed her: from the purport of these lines it was not unreasonable to believe, that the poet, the musician, and the thief were the same person. But though the music she had heard, the written lines she had seen, and the disappearance of the picture, formed a combination of circumstances very remarkable, she was irresistibly restrained from mentioning them; secretly determining, however, never again to visit the fishing-house without Monsieur or Madame St. Aubert.

Original Português

Ao chegarem à casa de pesca, ela deu pela falta de sua pulseira, e lembrou-se de que a tirara do braço depois do jantar, e a deixara sobre a mesa quando fora passear. Após uma longa busca, na qual Emily foi muito ativa, viu-se forçada a resignar-se à perda. O que tornava essa pulseira preciosa para ela era uma miniatura de sua filha à qual estava presa, tida por notável semelhança, e que fora pintada apenas alguns meses antes. Quando Emily se convenceu de que a pulseira realmente desaparecera, corou, e ficou pensativa. Que algum estranho estivera na casa de pesca, durante sua ausência, o seu alaúde, e os versos acrescentados a lápis, já lhe haviam revelado: pelo teor desses versos não era descabido crer que o poeta, o músico e o ladrão fossem a mesma pessoa. Mas, embora a música que ouvira, os versos escritos que vira, e o desaparecimento do retrato formassem uma combinação de circunstâncias muito notável, viu-se irresistivelmente impedida de mencioná-los; determinando, contudo, secretamente, nunca mais visitar a casa de pesca sem Monsieur ou Madame St. Aubert.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Voltaram pensativos ao castelo. Emily pensava no que tinha acontecido. St. Aubert se sentia grato por suas bênçãos. Madame St. Aubert estava chateada por ter perdido o retrato. Ao se aproximarem da casa, viram muita movimentação. Ouviram vozes, viram criados e cavalos, e depois uma carruagem. Um landau com cavalos cansados estava no gramado. St. Aubert reconheceu os criados de seu cunhado. Na sala, encontraram Monsieur e Madame Quesnel já ali. Eles tinham saído de Paris havia poucos dias e iam para sua propriedade, que ficava a apenas dez léguas de La Vallée. Monsieur Quesnel tinha comprado aquelas terras de St. Aubert. Ele era o único irmão de Madame St. Aubert, mas não eram próximos, pois tinham personalidades muito diferentes. M. Quesnel gostava da vida social e queria ser importante. Ele achava St. Aubert fraco e de mente estreita. Tinha desejado que a irmã se casasse com alguém rico e importante que pudesse ajudá-lo. Mas a irmã se casou com St. Aubert. Monsieur Quesnel deixava claro que não respeitava esse casamento. Madame St. Aubert sentia raiva, mas escondia, e depois disso sempre foi um pouco fria com ele.

Original English

They returned pensively to the chateau, Emily musing on the incident which had just occurred; St. Aubert reflecting, with placid gratitude, on the blessings he possessed; and Madame St. Aubert somewhat disturbed, and perplexed, by the loss of her daughter's picture. As they drew near the house, they observed an unusual bustle about it; the sound of voices was distinctly heard, servants and horses were seen passing between the trees, and, at length, the wheels of a carriage rolled along. Having come within view of the front of the chateau, a landau, with smoking horses, appeared on the little lawn before it. St. Aubert perceived the liveries of his brother-in-law, and in the parlour he found Monsieur and Madame Quesnel already entered. They had left Paris some days before, and were on the way to their estate, only ten leagues distant from La Vallee, and which Monsieur Quesnel had purchased several years before of St. Aubert. This gentleman was the only brother of Madame St. Aubert; but the ties of relationship having never been strengthened by congeniality of character, the intercourse between them had not been frequent. M. Quesnel had lived altogether in the world; his aim had been consequence; splendour was the object of his taste; and his address and knowledge of character had carried him forward to the attainment of almost all that he had courted. By a man of such a disposition, it is not surprising that the virtues of St. Aubert should be overlooked; or that his pure taste, simplicity, and moderated wishes, were considered as marks of a weak intellect, and of confined views. The marriage of his sister with St. Aubert had been mortifying to his ambition, for he had designed that the matrimonial connection she formed should assist him to attain the consequence which he so much desired; and some offers were made her by persons whose rank and fortune flattered his warmest hope. But his sister, who was then addressed also by St. Aubert, perceived, or thought she perceived, that happiness and splendour were not the same, and she did not hesitate to forego the last for the attainment of the former. Whether Monsieur Quesnel thought them the same, or not, he would readily have sacrificed his sister's peace to the gratification of his own ambition; and, on her marriage with St. Aubert, expressed in private his contempt of her spiritless conduct, and of the connection which it permitted. Madame St. Aubert, though she concealed this insult from her husband, felt, perhaps, for the first time, resentment lighted in her heart; and, though a regard for her own dignity, united with considerations of prudence, restrained her expression of this resentment, there was ever after a mild reserve in her manner towards M. Quesnel, which he both understood and felt.

Original Português

Voltaram pensativos ao castelo, Emily a cismar sobre o incidente que acabara de ocorrer; St. Aubert a refletir, com plácida gratidão, sobre as bênçãos que possuía; e Madame St. Aubert algo perturbada, e perplexa, pela perda do retrato de sua filha. À medida que se aproximavam da casa, notaram um insólito alvoroço em torno dela; o som de vozes ouvia-se distintamente, viam-se criados e cavalos passando por entre as árvores, e, por fim, as rodas de uma carruagem rolaram adiante. Tendo chegado à vista da fachada do castelo, um landau, com cavalos fumegantes, apareceu no pequeno gramado à sua frente. St. Aubert reconheceu as librés de seu cunhado, e na sala encontrou Monsieur e Madame Quesnel já entrados. Haviam deixado Paris alguns dias antes, e estavam a caminho de sua propriedade, a apenas dez léguas de distância de La Vallée, e que Monsieur Quesnel comprara vários anos antes de St. Aubert. Este cavalheiro era o único irmão de Madame St. Aubert; mas, como os laços de parentesco nunca haviam sido fortalecidos por afinidade de caráter, o convívio entre eles não fora frequente. M. Quesnel vivera inteiramente no mundo; seu objetivo fora a importância; o esplendor era o objeto de seu gosto; e sua desenvoltura e conhecimento do caráter alheio o haviam levado à obtenção de quase tudo o que cortejara. Por um homem de tal índole, não é de surpreender que as virtudes de St. Aubert fossem menosprezadas; ou que seu puro gosto, sua simplicidade, e seus desejos moderados fossem considerados marcas de um intelecto fraco, e de visões estreitas. O casamento de sua irmã com St. Aubert fora mortificante para a sua ambição, pois planejara que a ligação matrimonial que ela formasse o ajudasse a atingir a importância que tanto desejava; e algumas propostas lhe foram feitas por pessoas cuja posição e fortuna lisonjeavam suas mais ardentes esperanças. Mas sua irmã, que era então também cortejada por St. Aubert, percebeu, ou julgou perceber, que a felicidade e o esplendor não eram a mesma coisa, e não hesitou em renunciar ao último para a obtenção da primeira. Quer Monsieur Quesnel os julgasse a mesma coisa, quer não, ele teria de bom grado sacrificado a paz da irmã à gratificação de sua própria ambição; e, por ocasião do casamento dela com St. Aubert, exprimiu em particular seu desprezo pela conduta pusilânime dela, e pela ligação que ela permitia. Madame St. Aubert, embora ocultasse essa injúria do marido, sentiu, talvez pela primeira vez, o ressentimento acender-se em seu coração; e, embora o respeito pela própria dignidade, unido a considerações de prudência, refreasse a expressão desse ressentimento, houve daí por diante sempre uma branda reserva em seus modos para com M. Quesnel, que ele tanto compreendia quanto sentia.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Em seu próprio casamento, ele não seguiu o exemplo da irmã. Sua esposa era uma herdeira italiana, e, por natureza e educação, era vaidosa e tola.

Original English

In his own marriage he did not follow his sister's example. His lady was an Italian, and an heiress by birth; and, by nature and education, was a vain and frivolous woman.

Original Português

Em seu próprio casamento, ele não seguiu o exemplo da irmã. Sua dama era italiana, e herdeira por nascimento; e, por natureza e educação, era uma mulher vaidosa e frívola.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Decidiram passar a noite na casa de St. Aubert. O castelo não era grande o bastante para todos os criados, então eles foram enviados a um vilarejo próximo. Depois de se cumprimentarem e fazer planos para a noite, Monsieur Quesnel começou a falar sobre seus conhecimentos e amigos importantes. St. Aubert escutava educadamente, e Quesnel achava que o tinha impressionado. Quesnel descreveu as festas na corte de Henrique III e depois falou sobre o Duque de Joyeuse e um tratado secreto. Mas St. Aubert sabia, por experiência própria, que Quesnel não era de fato um político tão importante. Ele não respondeu, porque sabia que Quesnel não era gentil nem sábio.

Original English

They now determined to pass the night with St. Aubert; and as the chateau was not large enough to accommodate their servants, the latter were dismissed to the neighbouring village. When the first compliments were over, and the arrangements for the night made M. Quesnel began the display of his intelligence and his connections; while St. Aubert, who had been long enough in retirement to find these topics recommended by their novelty, listened, with a degree of patience and attention, which his guest mistook for the humility of wonder. The latter, indeed, described the few festivities which the turbulence of that period permitted to the court of Henry the Third, with a minuteness, that somewhat recompensed for his ostentation; but, when he came to speak of the character of the Duke de Joyeuse, of a secret treaty, which he knew to be negotiating with the Porte, and of the light in which Henry of Navarre was received, M. St. Aubert recollected enough of his former experience to be assured, that his guest could be only of an inferior class of politicians; and that, from the importance of the subjects upon which he committed himself, he could not be of the rank to which he pretended to belong. The opinions delivered by M. Quesnel, were such as St. Aubert forebore to reply to, for he knew that his guest had neither humanity to feel, nor discernment to perceive, what is just.

Original Português

Resolveram agora passar a noite com St. Aubert; e, como o castelo não era grande o bastante para acomodar seus criados, estes foram despedidos para a aldeia vizinha. Terminados os primeiros cumprimentos, e feitos os arranjos para a noite, M. Quesnel deu início à exibição de sua sagacidade e de suas relações; enquanto St. Aubert, que estivera afastado tempo suficiente para achar esses temas recomendáveis por sua novidade, escutava, com um grau de paciência e atenção, que seu hóspede tomou pela humildade do assombro. Este, na verdade, descreveu as poucas festividades que a turbulência daquele período permitia à corte de Henrique Terceiro, com uma minúcia que de algum modo compensava sua ostentação; mas, quando passou a falar do caráter do Duque de Joyeuse, de um tratado secreto, que sabia estar sendo negociado com a Sublime Porta, e da luz em que Henrique de Navarra era recebido, M. St. Aubert recordou o bastante de sua antiga experiência para assegurar-se de que seu hóspede só poderia ser de uma classe inferior de políticos; e que, pela importância dos assuntos sobre os quais se comprometia, não podia ser da posição a que pretendia pertencer. As opiniões proferidas por M. Quesnel eram tais que St. Aubert se absteve de responder, pois sabia que seu hóspede não tinha nem humanidade para sentir, nem discernimento para perceber, o que é justo.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto isso, Madame Quesnel dizia a Madame St. Aubert como estava surpresa por ela conseguir viver em um lugar tão distante. Descreveu os belos bailes e festas na corte pelo casamento do Duque de Joyeuse. Emily escutava com grande curiosidade, e sua imaginação tornava as cenas ainda mais maravilhosas. Mas Madame St. Aubert sentiu uma lágrima surgir em seus olhos e pensou que, embora o luxo possa tornar a felicidade mais agradável, só a bondade pode realmente trazer felicidade.

Original English

Madame Quesnel, meanwhile, was expressing to Madame St. Aubert her astonishment, that she could bear to pass her life in this remote corner of the world, as she called it, and describing, from a wish, probably, of exciting envy, the splendour of the balls, banquets, and processions which had just been given by the court, in honour of the nuptials of the Duke de Joyeuse with Margaretta of Lorrain, the sister of the Queen. She described with equal minuteness the magnificence she had seen, and that from which she had been excluded; while Emily's vivid fancy, as she listened with the ardent curiosity of youth, heightened the scenes she heard of; and Madame St. Aubert, looking on her family, felt, as a tear stole to her eye, that though splendour may grace happiness, virtue only can bestow it.

Original Português

Madame Quesnel, entretanto, exprimia a Madame St. Aubert seu espanto por poder ela suportar passar a vida naquele remoto canto do mundo, como o chamava, e descrevia, movida provavelmente por um desejo de excitar inveja, o esplendor dos bailes, banquetes e cortejos que a corte acabara de oferecer, em honra das núpcias do Duque de Joyeuse com Margaretta de Lorena, a irmã da Rainha. Descrevia com igual minúcia a magnificência que vira, e aquela da qual fora excluída; enquanto a viva imaginação de Emily, ao escutar com a ardente curiosidade da juventude, exaltava as cenas de que ouvia falar; e Madame St. Aubert, olhando para sua família, sentiu, ao deslizar-lhe uma lágrima aos olhos, que, embora o esplendor possa adornar a felicidade, só a virtude pode concedê-la.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Já faz doze anos que comprei as terras da sua família", disse Monsieur Quesnel. "Mais ou menos isso", respondeu St. Aubert com um suspiro discreto. "Não vou lá há quase cinco anos", disse Quesnel. "Paris é o único lugar para se viver. Estou muito ocupado com política e assuntos importantes, então é difícil para mim me afastar mesmo por um mês ou dois." St. Aubert ficou calado. Quesnel continuou: "Muitas vezes me pergunto como você, que já viveu em Paris e conviveu com pessoas, consegue viver num lugar tão distante. Você não vê nem ouve nada. Mal consegue se sentir vivo."

Original English

'It is now twelve years, St. Aubert,'said M. Quesnel, 'since I purchased your family estate.' - 'Somewhere thereabout,'replied St. Aubert, suppressing a sigh. 'It is near five years since I have been there,'resumed Quesnel; 'for Paris and its neighbourhood is the only place in the world to live in, and I am so immersed in politics, and have so many affairs of moment on my hands, that I find it difficult to steal away even for a month or two.'St. Aubert remaining silent, M. Quesnel proceeded: 'I have sometimes wondered how you, who have lived in the capital, and have been accustomed to company, can exist elsewhere; - especially in so remote a country as this, where you can neither hear nor see any thing, and can in short be scarcely conscious of life.'

Original Português

'Faz agora doze anos, St. Aubert', disse M. Quesnel, 'desde que comprei a propriedade de sua família.' - 'Por aí, mais ou menos', respondeu St. Aubert, sufocando um suspiro. 'Faz perto de cinco anos que não vou lá', retomou Quesnel; 'pois Paris e seus arredores são o único lugar do mundo onde se pode viver, e estou tão imerso na política, e tenho tantos assuntos de monta em mãos, que acho difícil furtar-me nem que seja por um mês ou dois.' Como St. Aubert permanecesse em silêncio, M. Quesnel prosseguiu: 'Às vezes me pergunto como você, que viveu na capital, e esteve acostumado à sociedade, pode existir em outro lugar; - sobretudo num campo tão remoto como este, onde não se pode ouvir nem ver coisa alguma, e onde, em suma, mal se pode ter consciência de estar vivo.'

Back to B1    Original English

B1 Português (simplified)

"Eu vivo para minha família e para mim mesmo", disse St. Aubert. "Agora me contento em conhecer a felicidade. No passado, eu conheci a vida."

Original English

'I live for my family and myself,'said St. Aubert; 'I am now contented to know only happiness; - formerly I knew life.'

Original Português

'Vivo para minha família e para mim mesmo', disse St. Aubert; 'contento-me agora em conhecer apenas a felicidade; - outrora conheci a vida.'

Back to B1    Original English

B1 Português (simplified)

"Pretendo gastar trinta ou quarenta mil libras em reformas", disse Monsieur Quesnel, ignorando as palavras de St. Aubert. "No próximo verão quero trazer meus amigos, o Duque de Durefort e o Marquês Ramont, para ficarem comigo por um mês ou dois." Quando St. Aubert perguntou sobre as reformas, Quesnel disse que iria derrubar a ala leste e construir estábulos ali. Depois construiria uma sala de jantar, uma sala de estar, um salão comum e muitos quartos para os criados. "No momento não há espaço nem para um terço do meu pessoal."

Original English

'I mean to expend thirty or forty thousand livres on improvements,'said M. Quesnel, without seeming to notice the words of St. Aubert; 'for I design, next summer, to bring here my friends, the Duke de Durefort and the Marquis Ramont, to pass a month or two with me.'To St. Aubert's enquiry, as to these intended improvements, he replied, that he should take down the whole east wing of the chateau, and raise upon the site a set of stables. 'Then I shall build,'said he, 'a SALLE A MANGER, a SALON, a SALLE AU COMMUNE, and a number of rooms for servants; for at present there is not accommodation for a third part of my own people.'

Original Português

'Pretendo gastar trinta ou quarenta mil livres em melhorias', disse M. Quesnel, sem parecer notar as palavras de St. Aubert; 'pois tenciono, no próximo verão, trazer para cá meus amigos, o Duque de Durefort e o Marquês Ramont, para passarem um mês ou dois comigo.' À pergunta de St. Aubert sobre essas pretendidas melhorias, respondeu que iria demolir toda a ala leste do castelo, e erguer sobre o sítio um conjunto de estábulos. 'Depois construirei', disse ele, 'uma SALLE À MANGER, um SALON, uma SALLE AU COMMUNE, e uma porção de aposentos para criados; pois no momento não há acomodação nem para a terça parte da minha própria gente.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Ela abrigava a casa de nosso pai", disse St. Aubert com tristeza, "e essa não era pequena."

Original English

'It accommodated our father's household,'said St. Aubert, grieved that the old mansion was to be thus improved, 'and that was not a small one.'

Original Português

'Ela acomodava a criadagem de nosso pai', disse St. Aubert, magoado por a velha mansão ir assim ser melhorada, 'e essa não era pequena.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Nossas ideias cresceram desde aquela época", disse M. Quesnel. "O que antes se chamava de um jeito adequado de viver não seria mais aceito hoje." Até o calmo St. Aubert corou com isso, mas sua raiva logo se transformou em desdém. "O terreno ao redor do castelo está cheio de árvores demais. Pretendo cortar algumas."

Original English

'Our notions are somewhat enlarged since those days,'said M. Quesnel; - 'what was then thought a decent style of living would not now be endured.'Even the calm St. Aubert blushed at these words, but his anger soon yielded to contempt. 'The ground about the chateau is encumbered with trees; I mean to cut some of them down.'

Original Português

'Nossas noções alargaram-se um tanto desde aqueles dias', disse M. Quesnel; - 'o que então se julgava um estilo de vida decente não seria hoje tolerado.' Até o calmo St. Aubert corou a essas palavras, mas sua cólera logo cedeu ao desprezo. 'O terreno em torno do castelo está atravancado de árvores; pretendo derrubar algumas delas.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Cortar as árvores também!" disse St. Aubert.

Original English

'Cut down the trees too!'said St. Aubert.

Original Português

'Derrubar as árvores também!' disse St. Aubert.

Back to B1    Original English

B1 Português (simplified)

"Claro. Por que não? Elas bloqueiam minha vista. Há um castanheiro que espalha seus galhos por todo o lado sul do castelo. É tão velho que dizem que seu tronco oco pode abrigar uma dúzia de homens. Seu amor por coisas antigas dificilmente vai defender que essa árvore velha e seca tenha alguma utilidade ou beleza."

Original English

'Certainly. Why should I not? they interrupt my prospects. There is a chesnut which spreads its branches before the whole south side of the chateau, and which is so ancient that they tell me the hollow of its trunk will hold a dozen men. Your enthusiasm will scarcely contend that there can be either use, or beauty, in such a sapless old tree as this.'

Original Português

'Certamente. Por que não? Elas interrompem minhas vistas. Há um castanheiro que espalha seus ramos diante de todo o lado sul do castelo, e que é tão antigo que me dizem que o oco de seu tronco comportaria uma dúzia de homens. Seu entusiasmo dificilmente sustentará que possa haver ou utilidade, ou beleza, numa velha árvore tão seca como esta.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Meu Deus!" exclamou St. Aubert. "Certamente você não vai destruir esse nobre castanheiro! Ele floresce há séculos e é a glória da propriedade. Já estava totalmente crescido quando a mansão atual foi construída. Na minha juventude, quantas vezes subi entre seus galhos largos! Eu ficava escondido em um mundo de folhas enquanto a chuva forte batia lá em cima, e nenhuma gota me atingia. Quantas vezes fiquei ali sentado com um livro na mão. Às vezes lia, e às vezes olhava por entre os galhos para a paisagem larga e o pôr do sol. Ficava até o crepúsculo chegar e trazer os pássaros de volta a seus ninhinhos entre as folhas. Quantas vezes... mas me perdoe", acrescentou St. Aubert, lembrando que falava com um homem que não conseguia entender nem aceitar seus sentimentos. "Estou falando de tempos e sentimentos tão antiquados quanto o gosto que pouparia essa árvore venerável."

Original English

'Good God!'exclaimed St. Aubert, 'you surely will not destroy that noble chesnut, which has flourished for centuries, the glory of the estate! It was in its maturity when the present mansion was built. How often, in my youth, have I climbed among its broad branches, and sat embowered amidst a world of leaves, while the heavy shower has pattered above, and not a rain drop reached me! How often I have sat with a book in my hand, sometimes reading, and sometimes looking out between the branches upon the wide landscape, and the setting sun, till twilight came, and brought the birds home to their little nests among the leaves! How often - but pardon me,'added St. Aubert, recollecting that he was speaking to a man who could neither comprehend, nor allow his feelings, 'I am talking of times and feelings as old-fashioned as the taste that would spare that venerable tree.'

Original Português

'Santo Deus!' exclamou St. Aubert, 'com certeza você não destruirá aquele nobre castanheiro, que floresceu por séculos, a glória da propriedade! Já estava em plena madureza quando a atual mansão foi construída. Quantas vezes, em minha juventude, trepei por entre seus largos ramos, e me sentei aninhado em meio a um mundo de folhas, enquanto o pesado aguaceiro tamborilava lá em cima, e nenhuma gota de chuva me alcançava! Quantas vezes me sentei com um livro na mão, ora lendo, ora olhando por entre os ramos para a ampla paisagem, e para o sol poente, até que o crepúsculo chegava, e trazia os pássaros de volta a seus ninhos entre as folhas! Quantas vezes - mas perdoe-me', acrescentou St. Aubert, lembrando-se de que falava a um homem que não podia nem compreender, nem admitir seus sentimentos, 'estou falando de tempos e de sentimentos tão fora de moda quanto o gosto que pouparia aquela venerável árvore.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Ela certamente vai cair", disse M. Quesnel. "Acho que vou plantar choupos-da-lombardia entre as castanheiras que deixarei na alameda. Madame Quesnel gosta muito do choupo e diz que ele deixa a vila de seu tio perto de Veneza muito bonita."

Original English

'It will certainly come down,'said M. Quesnel; 'I believe I shall plant some Lombardy poplars among the clumps of chesnut, that I shall leave of the avenue; Madame Quesnel is partial to the poplar, and tells me how much it adorns a villa of her uncle, not far from Venice.'

Original Português

'Ela virá abaixo, com certeza', disse M. Quesnel; 'creio que plantarei alguns choupos-da-Lombardia entre os grupos de castanheiros que deixarei da alameda; Madame Quesnel tem predileção pelo choupo, e diz-me quanto ele adorna uma vila de seu tio, não longe de Veneza.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Nas margens do Brenta, de fato", continuou St. Aubert, "sua forma alta e pontuda se mistura com o pinheiro e o cipreste. Ali ele se destaca sobre pórticos e colunatas leves e elegantes, e certamente enfeita a paisagem. Mas entre os gigantes da floresta, e perto de uma pesada mansão gótica..."

Original English

'On the banks of the Brenta, indeed,'continued St. Aubert, 'where its spiry form is intermingled with the pine, and the cypress, and where it plays over light and elegant porticos and colonnades, it, unquestionably, adorns the scene; but among the giants of the forest, and near a heavy gothic mansion - '

Original Português

'Nas margens do Brenta, de fato', continuou St. Aubert, 'onde sua forma esguia se entremeia ao pinheiro, e ao cipreste, e onde brinca sobre leves e elegantes pórticos e colunatas, ele, sem dúvida, adorna a cena; mas entre os gigantes da floresta, e junto a uma pesada mansão gótica - '

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Bem, meu caro senhor", disse M. Quesnel, "não vou discutir com você. Você precisaria voltar a Paris para que nossas ideias pudessem concordar em algo. Mas falando em Veneza, estou pensando em ir para lá no próximo verão. Os acontecimentos podem me levar a tomar posse dessa mesma vila, que dizem ser a mais encantadora que se possa imaginar. Nesse caso, vou deixar as reformas que mencionei para outro ano, e posso ficar tentado a passar um tempo na Itália."

Original English

'Well, my good sir,'said M. Quesnel, 'I will not dispute with you. You must return to Paris before our ideas can at all agree. But A-PROPOS of Venice, I have some thoughts of going thither, next summer; events may call me to take possession of that same villa, too, which they tell me is the most charming that can be imagined. In that case I shall leave the improvements I mention to another year, and I may, perhaps, be tempted to stay some time in Italy.'

Original Português

'Pois bem, meu bom senhor', disse M. Quesnel, 'não vou discutir com o senhor. Terá de voltar a Paris antes que nossas ideias possam de algum modo concordar. Mas A PROPÓSITO de Veneza, tenho algumas ideias de ir para lá no próximo verão; acontecimentos podem chamar-me a tomar posse daquela mesma vila, também, que me dizem ser a mais encantadora que se possa imaginar. Nesse caso, deixarei as melhorias que menciono para outro ano, e talvez me sinta tentado a demorar-me algum tempo na Itália.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily ficou um pouco surpresa ao ouvi-lo falar em ficar tentado a se demorar no exterior. Antes ele tinha dito que sua presença em Paris era tão necessária que mal conseguia se afastar por um mês ou dois. Mas St. Aubert conhecia bem demais a vaidade daquele homem para se surpreender com essa característica. E a chance de que essas reformas planejadas fossem adiadas lhe dava esperança de que talvez nunca acontecessem.

Original English

Emily was somewhat surprised to hear him talk of being tempted to remain abroad, after he had mentioned his presence to be so necessary at Paris, that it was with difficulty he could steal away for a month or two; but St. Aubert understood the self-importance of the man too well to wonder at this trait; and the possibility, that these projected improvements might be deferred, gave him a hope, that they might never take place.

Original Português

Emily ficou algo surpresa ao ouvi-lo falar em ser tentado a permanecer no estrangeiro, depois de ter mencionado que sua presença era tão necessária em Paris que era com dificuldade que conseguia furtar-se por um mês ou dois; mas St. Aubert compreendia bem demais a presunção do homem para admirar-se desse traço; e a possibilidade de que essas projetadas melhorias pudessem ser adiadas deu-lhe a esperança de que talvez nunca se realizassem.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Antes de se separarem para dormir, M. Quesnel pediu para falar com St. Aubert a sós. Foram para outra sala e ficaram lá por muito tempo. Ninguém sabia sobre o que conversaram. Mas quando St. Aubert voltou para a sala de jantar, parecia muito perturbado. Uma sombra de tristeza às vezes passava por seu rosto e alarmava Madame St. Aubert. Quando ficaram a sós, ela ficou tentada a perguntar o motivo. Mas uma delicadeza de espírito, como sempre se via em seu comportamento, a conteve. Ela pensou que, se St. Aubert quisesse que ela soubesse de seu problema, não esperaria que ela perguntasse.

Original English

Before they separated for the night, M. Quesnel desired to speak with St. Aubert alone, and they retired to another room, where they remained a considerable time. The subject of this conversation was not known; but, whatever it might be, St. Aubert, when he returned to the supper-room, seemed much disturbed, and a shade of sorrow sometimes fell upon his features that alarmed Madame St. Aubert. When they were alone she was tempted to enquire the occasion of it, but the delicacy of mind, which had ever appeared in his conduct, restrained her: she considered that, if St. Aubert wished her to be acquainted with the subject of his concern, he would not wait on her enquiries.

Original Português

Antes de se separarem para a noite, M. Quesnel pediu para falar a sós com St. Aubert, e retiraram-se para outro aposento, onde permaneceram por tempo considerável. O assunto dessa conversa não se soube; mas, fosse ele qual fosse, St. Aubert, ao voltar à sala de ceia, parecia muito perturbado, e uma sombra de pesar por vezes lhe caía sobre as feições, o que alarmava Madame St. Aubert. Quando estavam a sós, ela sentiu-se tentada a indagar o motivo, mas a delicadeza de espírito, que sempre transparecera em sua conduta, refreou-a: considerou que, se St. Aubert desejasse que ela tomasse conhecimento do assunto de sua preocupação, não esperaria pelas suas perguntas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

No dia seguinte, antes de M. Quesnel partir, ele falou com St. Aubert uma segunda vez.

Original English

On the following day, before M. Quesnel departed, he had a second conference with St. Aubert.

Original Português

No dia seguinte, antes de M. Quesnel partir, teve uma segunda conferência com St. Aubert.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de jantar no castelo, os convidados partiram no frescor do dia para Epourville. Insistiram para que St. Aubert e Madame St. Aubert os visitassem, mas isso vinha mais do orgulho por suas riquezas e coisas finas do que de uma bondade verdadeira.

Original English

The guests, after dining at the chateau, set out in the cool of the day for Epourville, whither they gave him and Madame St. Aubert a pressing invitation, prompted rather by the vanity of displaying their splendour, than by a wish to make their friends happy.

Original Português

Os hóspedes, depois de jantar no castelo, partiram no frescor do dia para Epourville, para onde deram a ele e a Madame St. Aubert um insistente convite, movido antes pela vaidade de ostentar seu esplendor do que por um desejo de fazer felizes os amigos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily ficou feliz em voltar à sua liberdade depois que a visita terminou. Ela retomou seus livros, suas caminhadas e as conversas sábias de M. e Madame St. Aubert. Eles também se sentiram aliviados por estarem livres das restrições que o orgulho e a tolice tinham imposto a eles.

Original English

Emily returned, with delight, to the liberty which their presence had restrained, to her books, her walks, and the rational conversation of M. and Madame St. Aubert, who seemed to rejoice, no less, that they were delivered from the shackles, which arrogance and frivolity had imposed.

Original Português

Emily voltou, com deleite, à liberdade que a presença deles refreara, aos seus livros, aos seus passeios, e à racional conversa de M. e Madame St. Aubert, que pareciam rejubilar-se, não menos, por se verem livres dos grilhões que a arrogância e a frivolidade lhes haviam imposto.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Madame St. Aubert disse que não estava se sentindo bem e não foi na caminhada noturna de costume. Então St. Aubert e Emily saíram juntos.

Original English

Madame St. Aubert excused herself from sharing their usual evening walk, complaining that she was not quite well, and St. Aubert and Emily went out together.

Original Português

Madame St. Aubert desculpou-se de partilhar o costumeiro passeio da tarde, queixando-se de não estar de todo bem, e St. Aubert e Emily saíram juntos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Caminharam em direção às montanhas, com o plano de visitar alguns velhos pensionistas que St. Aubert sustentava com sua pequena renda. É provável que M. Quesnel, com muito mais dinheiro, não faria o mesmo.

Original English

They chose a walk towards the mountains, intending to visit some old pensioners of St. Aubert, which, from his very moderate income, he contrived to support, though it is probable M. Quesnel, with his very large one, could not have afforded this.

Original Português

Escolheram um passeio em direção às montanhas, tencionando visitar alguns velhos pensionistas de St. Aubert, os quais, com sua muito moderada renda, ele conseguia sustentar, embora seja provável que M. Quesnel, com a sua muito grande, não pudesse ter arcado com isso.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert entregou aos seus pensionistas o dinheiro da semana. Ouviu com paciência algumas reclamações, ajudou a resolver outros problemas e acalmou a todos com seu rosto gentil e sorriso suave. Depois voltou para casa pelo bosque.

Original English

After distributing to his pensioners their weekly stipends, listening patiently to the complaints of some, redressing the grievances of others, and softening the discontents of all, by the look of sympathy, and the smile of benevolence, St. Aubert returned home through the woods,

Original Português

Depois de distribuir aos seus pensionistas seus estipêndios semanais, escutando com paciência as queixas de alguns, reparando os agravos de outros, e abrandando os descontentamentos de todos, com o olhar de simpatia, e o sorriso de benevolência, St. Aubert voltou para casa pelos bosques,

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B1 Português (simplified)

À noite, muitas fadas vêm aos bosques para brincar e dançar durante a noite de verão, como dizem as histórias do vilarejo.

Original English

where At fall of eve the fairy-people throng, In various games and revelry to pass The summer night, as village stories tell.* *Thomson

Original Português

onde Ao cair da tarde as gentes feéricas se acotovelam, Em vários jogos e folguedos a passar A noite de verão, como contam as histórias da aldeia.* *Thomson

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert disse: 'Sempre amei a escuridão da noite nos bosques. Quando eu era jovem, isso me fazia imaginar fadas e cenas românticas. Mesmo agora, sinto essa animação. Consigo caminhar devagar por baixo das árvores, olhar para a escuridão e escutar os sons estranhos do bosque.'

Original English

'The evening gloom of woods was always delightful to me,'said St. Aubert, whose mind now experienced the sweet calm, which results from the consciousness of having done a beneficent action, and which disposes it to receive pleasure from every surrounding object. 'I remember that in my youth this gloom used to call forth to my fancy a thousand fairy visions, and romantic images; and, I own, I am not yet wholly insensible of that high enthusiasm, which wakes the poet's dream: I can linger, with solemn steps, under the deep shades, send forward a transforming eye into the distant obscurity, and listen with thrilling delight to the mystic murmuring of the woods.'

Original Português

'A penumbra vespertina dos bosques sempre me foi deliciosa', disse St. Aubert, cujo espírito experimentava agora a doce calma que resulta da consciência de haver praticado uma ação benéfica, e que o dispõe a receber prazer de cada objeto circundante. 'Lembro-me de que, em minha juventude, esta penumbra costumava evocar à minha fantasia mil visões feéricas, e imagens românticas; e, confesso, ainda não estou de todo insensível àquele elevado entusiasmo que desperta o sonho do poeta: posso demorar-me, com passos solenes, sob as sombras profundas, lançar adiante um olhar transformador para a distante obscuridade, e escutar com estremecido deleite o místico murmúrio dos bosques.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily disse: 'Querido pai, o senhor descreve exatamente o que eu sinto muitas vezes. Eu achava que ninguém mais sentia isso. Escute! Há um som acima das árvores. Agora está quieto. Agora o vento sopra de novo. Parece um ser sobrenatural - o espírito do bosque. Olhe! Uma luz aparece perto daquele castanheiro!' Ela apontou.

Original English

'O my dear father,'said Emily, while a sudden tear started to her eye, 'how exactly you describe what I have felt so often, and which I thought nobody had ever felt but myself! But hark! here comes the sweeping sound over the wood-tops; - now it dies away; - how solemn the stillness that succeeds! Now the breeze swells again. It is like the voice of some supernatural being - the voice of the spirit of the woods, that watches over them by night. Ah! what light is yonder? But it is gone. And now it gleams again, near the root of that large chestnut: look, sir!'

Original Português

'Ó meu querido pai', disse Emily, enquanto uma súbita lágrima lhe saltava aos olhos, 'como o senhor descreve com exatidão o que tantas vezes senti, e que eu julgava jamais ninguém haver sentido a não ser eu mesma! Mas escute! Ali vem o som varrendo por sobre as copas dos bosques; - agora ele se extingue; - quão solene a quietude que se segue! Agora a brisa se avoluma de novo. É como a voz de algum ser sobrenatural - a voz do espírito dos bosques, que os guarda de noite. Ah! que luz é aquela além? Mas sumiu. E agora reluz outra vez, junto à raiz daquele grande castanheiro: olhe, senhor!'

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert disse: 'Você ama a natureza, mas não conhece um vaga-lume? Venha, vamos caminhar mais um pouco. Talvez vejamos fadas. O vaga-lume dá a luz, e as fadas dançam e tocam música. Você vê alguma coisa se movendo ali?'

Original English

'Are you such an admirer of nature,'said St. Aubert, 'and so little acquainted with her appearances as not to know that for the glow-worm? But come,'added he gaily, 'step a little further, and we shall see fairies, perhaps; they are often companions. The glow-worm lends his light, and they in return charm him with music, and the dance. Do you see nothing tripping yonder?'

Original Português

'És tão grande admiradora da natureza', disse St. Aubert, 'e tão pouco familiarizada com as suas aparências a ponto de não reconhecer aquilo como o pirilampo? Mas vem', acrescentou alegremente, 'dá mais alguns passos, e talvez vejamos fadas; elas amiúde são suas companheiras. O pirilampo empresta a sua luz, e elas, em troca, o encantam com música, e com a dança. Não vês nada a saltitar ali além?'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily riu. Ela disse: 'Bem, já que o senhor admite essas coisas, posso lhe contar que escrevi alguns poemas nestes bosques. Quase tenho coragem de mostrá-los.'

Original English

Emily laughed. 'Well, my dear sir,'said she, 'since you allow of this alliance, I may venture to own I have anticipated you; and almost dare venture to repeat some verses I made one evening in these very woods.'

Original Português

Emily riu. 'Pois bem, meu querido senhor', disse ela, 'já que o senhor admite essa aliança, ouso confessar que me antecipei ao senhor; e quase me atrevo a repetir alguns versos que fiz numa tarde nestes mesmos bosques.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Não', respondeu St. Aubert. 'Deixe de lado o quase, e prossiga com coragem. Vamos ouvir que ideias estranhas passaram pela sua cabeça. Se ela lhe deu um de seus encantamentos, você não precisa invejar as fadas.'

Original English

'Nay,'replied St. Aubert, 'dismiss the ALMOST, and venture quite; let us hear what vagaries fancy has been playing in your mind. If she has given you one of her spells, you need not envy those of the fairies.'

Original Português

'Ora', respondeu St. Aubert, 'dispensa o QUASE, e atreve-te de todo; ouçamos que caprichos a fantasia andou brincando em tua mente. Se ela te concedeu um de seus encantamentos, não precisas invejar os das fadas.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Se for forte o bastante para encantar o julgamento do senhor', disse Emily, 'então, enquanto explico suas imagens, não preciso invejá-las. Os versos se movem em um ritmo leve e dançante, que achei adequado ao tema, mas temo que sejam muito irregulares.'

Original English

'If it is strong enough to enchant your judgment, sir,'said Emily, 'while I disclose her images, I need NOT envy them. The lines go in a sort of tripping measure, which I thought might suit the subject well enough, but I fear they are too irregular.'

Original Português

'Se ele for forte o bastante para enfeitiçar o vosso juízo, senhor', disse Emily, 'enquanto revelo as imagens dela, NÃO precisarei invejá-las. Os versos vão numa espécie de metro saltitante, que julguei poder convir bem ao assunto, mas receio que sejam demasiado irregulares.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

O vaga-lume fala: 'Como é agradável a floresta verde numa noite de verão depois da chuva! Mas ainda mais doce quando o sol se põe e o crepúsculo chega com as fadas dançando pelos bosques. Elas dançam ao som de uma música suave até a lua aparecer e guiá-las a um caramanchão onde um rouxinol canta tristemente. Então param de dançar e escutam seu canto. Juram proteger os lugares dela dos humanos. Quando a estrela da noite se põe e a lua muda, as fadas ficariam sem alegria sem a minha luz pálida. Ainda assim, elas são ingratas! Muitas vezes, quando um viajante se perde à noite, tento guiá-lo, mas as fadas usam magia para desviá-lo do caminho e deixá-lo na lama. Fico com medo e me escondo. Mas então vejo os elfos dançando em roda ao som de música. Dois amantes fogem escondidos para escapar da rainha das fadas, que está com ciúmes porque os ajudei ontem. Para me punir, ela para a música e a dança se eu me aproximo. Se eu tivesse a flor roxa que pode quebrar seus feitiços, eu não seria mais sua escrava. Mas logo o vapor da floresta vai vagar, a lua vai desaparecer, e as fadas ficarão sem alegria sem a minha luz.'

Original English

THE GLOW-WORM How pleasant is the green-wood's deep-matted shade On a mid-summer's eve, when the fresh rain is o'er; When the yellow beams slope, and sparkle thro'the glade, And swiftly in the thin air the light swallows soar! But sweeter, sweeter still, when the sun sinks to rest, And twilight comes on, with the fairies so gay Tripping through the forest-walk, where flow'rs, unprest, Bow not their tall heads beneath their frolic play. To music's softest sounds they dance away the hour, Till moon-light steals down among the trembling leaves, And checquers all the ground, and guides them to the bow'r, The long haunted bow'r, where the nightingale grieves. Then no more they dance, till her sad song is done, But, silent as the night, to her mourning attend; And often as her dying notes their pity have won, They vow all her sacred haunts from mortals to defend. When, down among the mountains, sinks the ev'ning star, And the changing moon forsakes this shadowy sphere, How cheerless would they be, tho'they fairies are, If I, with my pale light, came not near! Yet cheerless tho'they'd be, they're ungrateful to my love! For, often when the traveller's benighted on his way, And I glimmer in his path, and would guide him thro'the grove, They bind me in their magic spells to lead him far astray; And in the mire to leave him, till the stars are all burnt out, While, in strange-looking shapes, they frisk about the ground, And, afar in the woods, they raise a dismal shout, Till I shrink into my cell again for terror of the sound! But, see where all the tiny elves come dancing in a ring, With the merry, merry pipe, and the tabor, and the horn, And the timbrel so clear, and the lute with dulcet string; Then round about the oak they go till peeping of the morn. Down yonder glade two lovers steal, to shun the fairy-queen, Who frowns upon their plighted vows, and jealous is of me, That yester-eve I lighted them, along the dewy green, To seek the purple flow'r, whose juice from all her spells can free. And now, to punish me, she keeps afar her jocund band, With the merry, merry pipe, and the tabor, and the lute; If I creep near yonder oak she will wave her fairy wand, And to me the dance will cease, and the music all be mute. O! had I but that purple flow'r whose leaves her charms can foil, And knew like fays to draw the juice, and throw it on the wind, I'd be her slave no longer, nor the traveller beguile, And help all faithful lovers, nor fear the fairy kind! But soon the VAPOUR OF THE WOODS will wander afar, And the fickle moon will fade, and the stars disappear, Then, cheerless will they be, tho'they fairies are, If I, with my pale light, come not near!

Original Português

O PIRILAMPO Quão aprazível é a sombra espessa e entretecida do bosque verde Numa tarde de pleno verão, quando a chuva fresca já passou; Quando os raios amarelos se inclinam, e cintilam pela clareira, E velozes no ar rarefeito as leves andorinhas se elevam! Mas mais doce, mais doce ainda, quando o sol se recolhe ao repouso, E o crepúsculo se aproxima, com as fadas tão alegres Saltitando pela vereda da floresta, onde as flores, não pisadas, Não curvam suas altas cabeças sob seu folguedo travesso. Aos mais suaves sons da música dançam a hora inteira, Até que o luar desce furtivo por entre as folhas trêmulas, E xadreza todo o chão, e as guia até o caramanchão, O caramanchão há muito assombrado, onde o rouxinol pranteia. Então não mais dançam, até que sua triste canção termine, Mas, silenciosas como a noite, ao seu pranto atendem; E tantas vezes quantas suas notas moribundas lhes ganharam a piedade, Juram defender dos mortais todos os seus sagrados refúgios. Quando, lá entre as montanhas, se põe a estrela vespertina, E a lua inconstante abandona esta esfera sombria, Quão desalentadas estariam elas, embora sejam fadas, Se eu, com minha pálida luz, não me chegasse perto! Contudo, por mais desalentadas que estivessem, são ingratas ao meu amor! Pois, muitas vezes quando o viajante é surpreendido pela noite em seu caminho, E eu bruxuleio em sua trilha, e o guiaria através do bosque, Elas me prendem em seus feitiços mágicos para conduzi-lo bem longe do rumo; E a deixá-lo no lodaçal, até que as estrelas todas se apaguem, Enquanto, em formas de estranha aparência, saltitam pelo chão, E, ao longe nos bosques, erguem um clamor lúgubre, Até que eu me encolho de novo em minha cela, apavorado com o som! Mas, vede onde todos os minúsculos elfos vêm dançando em roda, Com a alegre, alegre flauta, e o tamboril, e a trompa, E o adufe tão claro, e o alaúde de doces cordas; Então em torno do carvalho vão eles até o despontar da manhã. Naquela clareira além, dois amantes se esgueiram, para fugir da rainha das fadas, Que franze o cenho às suas juras trocadas, e tem ciúmes de mim, Porque ontem à tarde os iluminei, pela relva orvalhada, Em busca da flor purpúrea, cujo suco de todos os seus feitiços liberta. E agora, para me punir, ela mantém ao longe o seu jovial séquito, Com a alegre, alegre flauta, e o tamboril, e o alaúde; Se eu me arrasto para perto daquele carvalho, ela agitará sua varinha de fada, E para mim a dança cessará, e a música toda emudecerá. Ó! tivesse eu apenas aquela flor purpúrea cujas folhas podem frustrar seus encantos, E soubesse, como as fadas, extrair o suco, e lançá-lo ao vento, Não mais seria seu escravo, nem enganaria o viajante, E ajudaria todos os amantes fiéis, nem temeria a gente feérica! Mas em breve o VAPOR DOS BOSQUES vagará para longe, E a lua inconstante empalidecerá, e as estrelas desaparecerão, Então, desalentadas estarão elas, embora sejam fadas, Se eu, com minha pálida luz, não me chegar perto!

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B1 Português (simplified)

Fosse o que fosse que St. Aubert pensasse dos versos, ele não iria estragar o prazer da filha se recusando a parecer satisfeito. Depois de elogiá-los, ele ficou pensativo, e eles seguiram caminhando em silêncio.

Original English

Whatever St. Aubert might think of the stanzas, he would not deny his daughter the pleasure of believing that he approved them; and, having given his commendation, he sunk into a reverie, and they walked on in silence.

Original Português

Fosse o que fosse que St. Aubert pensasse das estrofes, não negaria à filha o prazer de crer que as aprovava; e, tendo-lhe dado seu louvor, mergulhou num devaneio, e caminharam adiante em silêncio.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Uma luz fraca e imperfeita dava uma imagem parcial aos olhos que se esforçavam para ver. Bosques, vilarejos, riachos, rochas e topos de montanhas que ainda guardavam a luz pareciam formar uma única cena tremeluzente, sem certeza se realmente estavam sendo vistos.

Original English

A faint erroneous ray Glanc'd from th'imperfect surfaces of things, Flung half an image on the straining eye; While waving woods, and villages, and streams, And rocks, and mountain-tops, that long retain The ascending gleam, are all one swimming scene, Uncertain if beheld.* *Thomson.

Original Português

Um raio débil e enganoso Refletiu-se das superfícies imperfeitas das coisas, Lançou meia imagem ao olhar que se esforça; Enquanto bosques ondulantes, e aldeias, e riachos, E rochas, e cimos de montanhas, que longamente retêm O clarão ascendente, são todos uma cena flutuante, Incerta, se de fato contemplada.* *Thomson.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert continuou calado até chegar ao castelo, onde sua esposa tinha ido para o quarto. A fraqueza e a tristeza que a incomodavam recentemente voltaram ainda mais fortes no dia seguinte. Ela desenvolveu febre, e o médico disse que era a mesma febre da qual St. Aubert tinha acabado de se recuperar. Ela tinha pegado a doença ao cuidar dele. Seu corpo estava fraco demais para combatê-la, então a doença ficou escondida e causou o cansaço que ela sentia. St. Aubert ficou muito preocupado e manteve o médico na casa. Ele se lembrou de um sentimento triste que tivera na última vez que visitara a casa de pesca com a esposa, e agora sentia que aquela doença seria fatal. Mas escondeu isso dela e de sua filha, Emily. Tentou lhe dar esperança. O médico disse que não podia ter certeza do que aconteceria. Madame St. Aubert parecia saber que ia morrer. Ela olhava muitas vezes para a família com pena e ternura, como se lamentasse a tristeza que esperava por eles. No sétimo dia, ela chegou à crise. O rosto do médico ficou sério. Ela lhe disse: 'Não tente me enganar. Sinto que vou morrer em breve. Estou preparada para isso. Não dê à minha família uma falsa esperança. Isso só vai piorar a dor deles. Vou tentar ensiná-los a aceitar isso com o meu exemplo.'

Original English

St. Aubert continued silent till he reached the chateau, where his wife had retired to her chamber. The languor and dejection, that had lately oppressed her, and which the exertion called forth by the arrival of her guests had suspended, now returned with increased effect. On the following day, symptoms of fever appeared, and St. Aubert, having sent for medical advice, learned, that her disorder was a fever of the same nature as that, from which he had lately recovered. She had, indeed, taken the infection, during her attendance upon him, and, her constitution being too weak to throw out the disease immediately, it had lurked in her veins, and occasioned the heavy languor of which she had complained. St. Aubert, whose anxiety for his wife overcame every other consideration, detained the physician in his house. He remembered the feelings and the reflections that had called a momentary gloom upon his mind, on the day when he had last visited the fishing-house, in company with Madame St. Aubert, and he now admitted a presentiment, that this illness would be a fatal one. But he effectually concealed this from her, and from his daughter, whom he endeavoured to re-animate with hopes that her constant assiduities would not be unavailing. The physician, when asked by St. Aubert for his opinion of the disorder, replied, that the event of it depended upon circumstances which he could not ascertain. Madame St. Aubert seemed to have formed a more decided one; but her eyes only gave hints of this. She frequently fixed them upon her anxious friends with an expression of pity, and of tenderness, as if she anticipated the sorrow that awaited them, and that seemed to say, it was for their sakes only, for their sufferings, that she regretted life. On the seventh day, the disorder was at its crisis. The physician assumed a graver manner, which she observed, and took occasion, when her family had once quitted the chamber, to tell him, that she perceived her death was approaching. 'Do not attempt to deceive me,'said she, 'I feel that I cannot long survive. I am prepared for the event, I have long, I hope, been preparing for it. Since I have not long to live, do not suffer a mistaken compassion to induce you to flatter my family with false hopes. If you do, their affliction will only be the heavier when it arrives: I will endeavour to teach them resignation by my example.'

Original Português

St. Aubert permaneceu em silêncio até alcançar o castelo, onde sua esposa se retirara para o quarto. O langor e o abatimento, que ultimamente a haviam oprimido, e que o esforço exigido pela chegada dos hóspedes suspendera, voltavam agora com efeito redobrado. No dia seguinte, apareceram sintomas de febre, e St. Aubert, tendo mandado chamar um parecer médico, soube que a moléstia dela era uma febre da mesma natureza daquela de que ele próprio recentemente se recuperara. De fato, ela contraíra o contágio, durante os cuidados que lhe dispensara, e, sendo sua constituição demasiado fraca para expelir a doença de imediato, esta se ocultara em suas veias, e ocasionara o pesado langor de que ela se queixara. St. Aubert, cuja ansiedade pela esposa sobrepujava toda outra consideração, reteve o médico em sua casa. Recordou os sentimentos e as reflexões que haviam lançado uma momentânea sombra sobre seu espírito, no dia em que visitara pela última vez a casa de pesca, na companhia de Madame St. Aubert, e admitiu agora um pressentimento de que esta doença seria fatal. Mas ocultou isso eficazmente dela, e de sua filha, a quem se esforçava por reanimar com a esperança de que seus constantes desvelos não seriam vãos. O médico, quando indagado por St. Aubert sobre sua opinião a respeito da moléstia, respondeu que o desfecho dela dependia de circunstâncias que não podia averiguar. Madame St. Aubert parecia ter formado uma opinião mais decidida; mas seus olhos apenas davam indícios disso. Fixava-os frequentemente em seus aflitos entes queridos com uma expressão de piedade, e de ternura, como se antecipasse o pesar que os aguardava, e que parecia dizer que era apenas por eles, por seus sofrimentos, que lamentava a vida. No sétimo dia, a moléstia chegou à sua crise. O médico assumiu um ar mais grave, o que ela notou, e aproveitou a ocasião, quando sua família certa vez deixou o quarto, para dizer-lhe que percebia que a sua morte se aproximava. 'Não tente enganar-me', disse ela, 'sinto que não posso sobreviver por muito tempo. Estou preparada para o desenlace, há muito, espero, venho me preparando para ele. Já que não me resta muito de vida, não deixe que uma compaixão equivocada o induza a alimentar minha família com falsas esperanças. Se o fizer, a aflição deles só será mais pesada quando chegar: procurarei ensiná-los à resignação pelo meu exemplo.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

O médico se comoveu. Prometeu obedecê-la e disse a St. Aubert, de forma bastante abrupta, que não havia mais esperança. St. Aubert não era filósofo o bastante para esconder seus sentimentos diante dessa notícia. Mas pensou que sua dor visível só aumentaria o sofrimento da esposa. Assim, depois de algum tempo, conseguiu se controlar na presença dela. Emily ficou a princípio dominada pela notícia. Depois, enganada pela força de seus próprios desejos, uma esperança surgiu em sua mente de que a mãe ainda poderia se recuperar. Ela se apegou a essa esperança teimosamente, quase até a última hora.

Original English

The physician was affected; he promised to obey her, and told St. Aubert, somewhat abruptly, that there was nothing to expect. The latter was not philosopher enough to restrain his feelings when he received this information; but a consideration of the increased affliction which the observance of his grief would occasion his wife, enabled him, after some time, to command himself in her presence. Emily was at first overwhelmed with the intelligence; then, deluded by the strength of her wishes, a hope sprung up in her mind that her mother would yet recover, and to this she pertinaciously adhered almost to the last hour.

Original Português

O médico ficou comovido; prometeu obedecer-lhe, e disse a St. Aubert, de modo algo brusco, que não havia nada a esperar. Este não era filósofo o bastante para refrear seus sentimentos ao receber essa informação; mas a consideração da aflição acrescida que a observância de seu pesar ocasionaria à esposa capacitou-o, ao cabo de algum tempo, a dominar-se na presença dela. Emily a princípio ficou aniquilada com a notícia; depois, iludida pela força de seus próprios desejos, brotou-lhe no espírito a esperança de que sua mãe ainda se recuperaria, e a esta se apegou pertinazmente quase até a última hora.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Durante a doença, Madame St. Aubert sofreu com paciência e aceitou que seus desejos não se realizariam. Ela estava em paz com a morte, porque tinha vivido uma vida consciente da presença de Deus e tinha esperança de um mundo melhor. Mas ainda assim ficava triste por deixar as pessoas que amava. Em suas últimas horas, conversou com o marido e com Emily sobre o futuro e a religião. Mostrou aceitação e esperança de que se encontrariam novamente. Às vezes tentava esconder sua tristeza, e isso deixava St. Aubert tão abalado que precisava sair do quarto. Ele chorava por um tempo, depois secava as lágrimas e voltava com um rosto calmo que só tornava sua tristeza mais profunda.

Original English

The progress of this disorder was marked, on the side of Madame St. Aubert, by patient suffering, and subjected wishes. The composure, with which she awaited her death, could be derived only from the retrospect of a life governed, as far as human frailty permits, by a consciousness of being always in the presence of the Deity, and by the hope of a higher world. But her piety could not entirely subdue the grief of parting from those whom she so dearly loved. During these her last hours, she conversed much with St. Aubert and Emily, on the prospect of futurity, and on other religious topics. The resignation she expressed, with the firm hope of meeting in a future world the friends she left in this, and the effort which sometimes appeared to conceal her sorrow at this temporary separation, frequently affected St. Aubert so much as to oblige him to leave the room. Having indulged his tears awhile, he would dry them and return to the chamber with a countenance composed by an endeavour which did but increase his grief.

Original Português

O progresso dessa moléstia foi marcado, da parte de Madame St. Aubert, por um sofrimento paciente, e por desejos submissos. A serenidade com que ela aguardava a morte só podia derivar da retrospecção de uma vida governada, tanto quanto a fragilidade humana permite, pela consciência de estar sempre na presença da Divindade, e pela esperança de um mundo superior. Mas sua piedade não podia subjugar inteiramente a dor de partir daqueles a quem tão ternamente amava. Durante estas suas últimas horas, conversou muito com St. Aubert e Emily, sobre a perspectiva do porvir, e sobre outros temas religiosos. A resignação que exprimia, com a firme esperança de reencontrar num mundo futuro os amigos que deixava neste, e o esforço que às vezes parecia esconder seu pesar por esta separação temporária, muitas vezes comovia St. Aubert a tal ponto que o obrigava a deixar o aposento. Depois de dar vazão por um instante às lágrimas, enxugava-as e voltava ao quarto com um semblante composto por um esforço que apenas lhe aumentava o pesar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily nunca tinha sentido de forma tão forte a importância de controlar suas emoções, e conseguiu fazer isso completamente. Mas quando a mãe morreu, ela sentiu de repente toda a sua tristeza e percebeu que tinham sido a esperança e a força que a mantiveram firme. St. Aubert estava triste demais para consolá-la.

Original English

Never had Emily felt the importance of the lessons, which had taught her to restrain her sensibility, so much as in these moments, and never had she practised them with a triumph so complete. But when the last was over, she sunk at once under the pressure of her sorrow, and then perceived that it was hope, as well as fortitude, which had hitherto supported her. St. Aubert was for a time too devoid of comfort himself to bestow any on his daughter.

Original Português

Nunca Emily sentira a importância das lições, que a haviam ensinado a refrear sua sensibilidade, tanto como nesses momentos, e nunca as praticara com um triunfo tão completo. Mas, quando o último instante passou, ela sucumbiu de uma vez sob o peso de seu pesar, e então percebeu que fora a esperança, tanto quanto a fortaleza, que até então a sustentara. St. Aubert estava, por algum tempo, demasiado desprovido de conforto ele próprio para dispensar algum à filha.

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I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul. SHAKESPEARE

B1 Português (simplified)

Madame St. Aubert foi enterrada na igreja de um vilarejo próximo. O marido e a filha a acompanharam até o túmulo, junto com uma longa fileira de moradores do vilarejo que sinceramente choravam por aquela boa mulher.

Original English

Madame St. Aubert was interred in the neighbouring village church; her husband and daughter attended her to the grave, followed by a long train of the peasantry, who were sincere mourners of this excellent woman.

Original Português

Madame St. Aubert foi sepultada na igreja da aldeia vizinha; seu marido e sua filha acompanharam-na até a sepultura, seguidos por um longo cortejo de camponeses, que eram sinceros pranteadores dessa excelente mulher.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de voltar do funeral, St. Aubert se trancou no quarto. Quando saiu, parecia calmo, embora estivesse pálido de tristeza. Pediu que a família fosse até ele. Emily estava faltando, pois tinha ido para o quarto chorar sozinha depois da cena triste que tinha presenciado. St. Aubert foi até ela, segurou sua mão em silêncio e esperou até conseguir falar. Sua voz tremia quando disse: 'Minha Emily, vou rezar com minha família; você vai se juntar a nós. Precisamos pedir apoio lá do alto. Onde mais devemos procurá-lo... onde mais podemos encontrá-lo?'

Original English

On his return from the funeral, St. Aubert shut himself in his chamber. When he came forth, it was with a serene countenance, though pale in sorrow. He gave orders that his family should attend him. Emily only was absent; who, overcome with the scene she had just witnessed, had retired to her closet to weep alone. St. Aubert followed her thither: he took her hand in silence, while she continued to weep; and it was some moments before he could so far command his voice as to speak. It trembled while he said, 'My Emily, I am going to prayers with my family; you will join us. We must ask support from above. Where else ought we to seek it - where else can we find it?'

Original Português

Ao voltar do funeral, St. Aubert fechou-se em seu quarto. Quando saiu, foi com um semblante sereno, embora pálido de pesar. Deu ordem para que sua família o assistisse. Só Emily estava ausente; a qual, vencida pela cena que acabara de presenciar, se recolhera ao seu gabinete para chorar a sós. St. Aubert seguiu-a até lá: tomou-lhe a mão em silêncio, enquanto ela continuava a chorar; e passaram-se alguns momentos antes que ele pudesse dominar a voz o bastante para falar. Ela tremia enquanto ele dizia: 'Minha Emily, vou rezar com a família; tu te unirás a nós. Devemos pedir amparo lá do alto. Onde mais deveríamos buscá-lo - onde mais poderíamos encontrá-lo?'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily parou de chorar e seguiu o pai até a sala. Os criados estavam ali, e St. Aubert leu o ofício da noite em voz baixa e séria. Também disse uma oração pela pessoa falecida. Enquanto lia, sua voz falhava muitas vezes, e lágrimas caíam sobre o livro. Por fim, ele parou. Mas sua devoção profunda e pura foi aos poucos elevando seus pensamentos acima deste mundo e trouxe conforto ao seu coração.

Original English

Emily checked her tears, and followed her father to the parlour, where, the servants being assembled, St. Aubert read, in a low and solemn voice, the evening service, and added a prayer for the soul of the departed. During this, his voice often faltered, his tears fell upon the book, and at length he paused. But the sublime emotions of pure devotion gradually elevated his views above this world, and finally brought comfort to his heart.

Original Português

Emily conteve as lágrimas, e seguiu o pai até a sala, onde, reunidos os criados, St. Aubert leu, em voz baixa e solene, o ofício vespertino, e acrescentou uma prece pela alma da falecida. Durante isso, sua voz muitas vezes vacilava, suas lágrimas caíam sobre o livro, e por fim ele fez uma pausa. Mas as sublimes emoções da pura devoção gradualmente elevaram suas vistas acima deste mundo, e por fim trouxeram conforto ao seu coração.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois do ofício, os criados saíram. St. Aubert beijou Emily com ternura e disse: 'Desde que você era pequena, tentei lhe ensinar a se controlar. Isso é muito importante na vida. Nos protege de más tentações. Também limita prazeres que parecem bons, mas se tornam ruins se exagerarmos. Todo excesso é ruim. Até a tristeza que começa como algo bom pode se tornar egoísta se nos impede de cumprir nossos deveres. Nossos deveres são o que devemos a nós mesmos e aos outros. Uma dor excessiva enfraquece a mente. Torna difícil aproveitar os prazeres simples que Deus nos deu. Lembre-se e pratique o que lhe ensinei. Você sabe, por experiência própria, que essas lições são sábias.'

Original English

When the service was ended, and the servants were withdrawn, he tenderly kissed Emily, and said, 'I have endeavoured to teach you, from your earliest youth, the duty of self-command; I have pointed out to you the great importance of it through life, not only as it preserves us in the various and dangerous temptations that call us from rectitude and virtue, but as it limits the indulgences which are termed virtuous, yet which, extended beyond a certain boundary, are vicious, for their consequence is evil. All excess is vicious; even that sorrow, which is amiable in its origin, becomes a selfish and unjust passion, if indulged at the expence of our duties - by our duties I mean what we owe to ourselves, as well as to others. The indulgence of excessive grief enervates the mind, and almost incapacitates it for again partaking of those various innocent enjoyments which a benevolent God designed to be the sun-shine of our lives. My dear Emily, recollect and practise the precepts I have so often given you, and which your own experience has so often shewn you to be wise.

Original Português

Terminado o ofício, e retirados os criados, ele beijou ternamente Emily, e disse: 'Esforcei-me por ensinar-te, desde tua mais tenra juventude, o dever do autodomínio; apontei-te a grande importância dele ao longo da vida, não só por nos preservar nas várias e perigosas tentações que nos afastam da retidão e da virtude, mas por limitar as indulgências que se chamam virtuosas, e que, no entanto, estendidas além de certo limite, tornam-se viciosas, pois sua consequência é o mal. Todo excesso é vicioso; até esse pesar, que é amável em sua origem, torna-se uma paixão egoísta e injusta, se cultivado à custa de nossos deveres - por deveres entendo o que devemos a nós mesmos, tanto quanto aos outros. A indulgência de um pesar excessivo enfraquece o espírito, e quase o incapacita de participar de novo daqueles vários e inocentes gozos que um Deus benevolente destinou a ser o sol de nossas vidas. Minha querida Emily, recorda e pratica os preceitos que tantas vezes te dei, e que a tua própria experiência tantas vezes te mostrou serem sábios.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Sua tristeza é inútil. Não pense que isso é apenas um ditado comum. Use a razão para controlar sua dor. Eu não quero destruir seus sentimentos, minha filha. Só quero lhe ensinar a controlá-los. Um coração sensível demais pode causar problemas, mas um coração que não sente nada é completamente ruim. Você sabe que eu já sofri, então sabe que não estou dizendo palavras vazias. Não suporto ver você definhar em uma tristeza inútil. Houve um tempo em que o luto natural era certo, mas esse tempo já passou. Se você continuar cedendo à tristeza, ela se tornará um hábito muito difícil de quebrar. Você, minha Emily, vai mostrar que está disposta a evitar isso.'

Original English

'Your sorrow is useless. Do not receive this as merely a commonplace remark, but let reason THEREFORE restrain sorrow. I would not annihilate your feelings, my child, I would only teach you to command them; for whatever may be the evils resulting from a too susceptible heart, nothing can be hoped from an insensible one; that, on the other hand, is all vice - vice, of which the deformity is not softened, or the effect consoled for, by any semblance or possibility of good. You know my sufferings, and are, therefore, convinced that mine are not the light words which, on these occasions, are so often repeated to destroy even the sources of honest emotion, or which merely display the selfish ostentation of a false philosophy. I will shew my Emily, that I can practise what I advise. I have said thus much, because I cannot bear to see you wasting in useless sorrow, for want of that resistance which is due from mind; and I have not said it till now, because there is a period when all reasoning must yield to nature; that is past: and another, when excessive indulgence, having sunk into habit, weighs down the elasticity of the spirits so as to render conquest nearly impossible; this is to come. You, my Emily, will shew that you are willing to avoid it.'

Original Português

'Teu pesar é inútil. Não recebas isto como mera observação corriqueira, mas deixa que a razão, POR ISSO, refreie o pesar. Não aniquilaria teus sentimentos, minha filha, apenas te ensinaria a dominá-los; pois, quaisquer que sejam os males resultantes de um coração demasiado suscetível, nada há a esperar de um coração insensível; este, por outro lado, é todo vício - vício cuja deformidade não é abrandada, nem cujo efeito é consolado, por qualquer aparência ou possibilidade de bem. Conheces os meus sofrimentos e estás, portanto, convencida de que os meus não são as palavras frívolas que, em tais ocasiões, tão amiúde se repetem para destruir até as próprias fontes da emoção honesta, ou que apenas exibem a egoísta ostentação de uma falsa filosofia. Mostrarei à minha Emily que sei praticar o que aconselho. Disse tudo isto porque não suporto ver-te definhar em pesar inútil, por falta daquela resistência que é devida da parte do espírito; e não o disse até agora, porque há um período em que todo raciocínio deve ceder à natureza; esse passou: e outro, em que a indulgência excessiva, tendo-se afundado em hábito, oprime de tal modo a elasticidade do ânimo a ponto de tornar a vitória quase impossível; este está por vir. Tu, minha Emily, mostrarás que estás disposta a evitá-lo.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily sorriu para o pai por entre as lágrimas. 'Querido pai', disse ela, com a voz trêmula. Ela quis acrescentar: 'Vou me mostrar digna de ser sua filha', mas gratidão, amor e tristeza a invadiram todos de uma vez. St. Aubert a deixou chorar sem interrompê-la, e depois começou a falar sobre assuntos do dia a dia.

Original English

Emily smiled through her tears upon her father: 'Dear sir,'said she, and her voice trembled; she would have added, 'I will shew myself worthy of being your daughter;'but a mingled emotion of gratitude, affection, and grief overcame her. St. Aubert suffered her to weep without interruption, and then began to talk on common topics.

Original Português

Emily sorriu por entre as lágrimas para o pai: 'Querido senhor', disse ela, e a voz lhe tremia; teria acrescentado: 'Mostrarei ser digna de ser vossa filha'; mas uma emoção mesclada de gratidão, afeto e pesar a venceu. St. Aubert deixou-a chorar sem interrupção, e depois começou a falar sobre assuntos comuns.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A primeira pessoa a ir consolar St. Aubert foi M. Barreaux, um homem severo que parecia frio e insensível. Eles tinham se conhecido porque ambos gostavam de botânica, e se encontravam com frequência em caminhadas pelas montanhas. M. Barreaux tinha deixado a vida pública e quase todo o convívio social para viver em um castelo agradável perto dos bosques, próximo de La Vallée. Ele também tinha se decepcionado com as pessoas, mas, diferente de St. Aubert, não sentia pena nem tristeza por elas. Sentia mais raiva das más ações delas do que bondade por suas fraquezas.

Original English

The first person who came to condole with St. Aubert was a M. Barreaux, an austere and seemingly unfeeling man. A taste for botany had introduced them to each other, for they had frequently met in their wanderings among the mountains. M. Barreaux had retired from the world, and almost from society, to live in a pleasant chateau, on the skirts of the woods, near La Vallee. He also had been disappointed in his opinion of mankind; but he did not, like St. Aubert, pity and mourn for them; he felt more indignation at their vices, than compassion for their weaknesses.

Original Português

A primeira pessoa que veio dar os pêsames a St. Aubert foi um M. Barreaux, homem austero e ao que parecia insensível. Um gosto pela botânica os apresentara um ao outro, pois muitas vezes se haviam encontrado em suas perambulações pelas montanhas. M. Barreaux retirara-se do mundo, e quase da sociedade, para viver num aprazível castelo, à orla dos bosques, perto de La Vallée. Também ele fora decepcionado em sua opinião a respeito da humanidade; mas não, como St. Aubert, se compadecia e lamentava por ela; sentia mais indignação por seus vícios do que compaixão por suas fraquezas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert ficou surpreso ao vê-lo. Ele o tinha convidado muitas vezes para visitá-lo, mas ele nunca vinha. Agora chegava sem formalidades, entrando na sala como um velho amigo. Parecia que o sofrimento tinha suavizado sua natureza áspera. Ele pensava apenas na infelicidade de St. Aubert. Mostrava sua compaixão mais por meio de ações do que de palavras. Não falava muito sobre o luto deles, mas sua atenção cuidadosa, sua voz gentil e seu olhar bondoso vinham do coração e tocavam o coração deles.

Original English

St. Aubert was somewhat surprised to see him; for, though he had often pressed him to come to the chateau, he had never till now accepted the invitation; and now he came without ceremony or reserve, entering the parlour as an old friend. The claims of misfortune appeared to have softened down all the ruggedness and prejudices of his heart. St. Aubert unhappy, seemed to be the sole idea that occupied his mind. It was in manners, more than in words, that he appeared to sympathize with his friends: he spoke little on the subject of their grief; but the minute attention he gave them, and the modulated voice, and softened look that accompanied it, came from his heart, and spoke to theirs.

Original Português

St. Aubert ficou algo surpreso ao vê-lo; pois, embora muitas vezes o houvesse instado a vir ao castelo, ele nunca até então aceitara o convite; e agora vinha sem cerimônia ou reserva, entrando na sala como um velho amigo. As reivindicações da desventura pareciam ter abrandado toda a rudeza e os preconceitos de seu coração. St. Aubert infeliz parecia ser a única ideia que lhe ocupava a mente. Era nos modos, mais do que nas palavras, que ele parecia solidarizar-se com os amigos: falava pouco sobre o assunto de seu pesar; mas a minuciosa atenção que lhes dispensava, e a voz comedida, e o olhar suavizado que a acompanhavam, vinham de seu coração, e falavam ao deles.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Durante esse período triste, St. Aubert também recebeu a visita de Madame Cheron, sua única irmã viva. Ela era viúva havia muitos anos e vivia em suas próprias terras perto de Tholouse. Eles não se viam com frequência. Ao oferecer suas condolências, ela usou muitas palavras. Não entendia o poder de um olhar ou de uma voz gentil. Mas disse a St. Aubert que sentia verdadeiramente por ele, elogiou sua falecida esposa e depois ofereceu o que achava ser consolo. Emily chorou o tempo todo enquanto ela falava. St. Aubert ficou calmo, escutou em silêncio e depois mudou de assunto.

Original English

At this melancholy period St. Aubert was likewise visited by Madame Cheron, his only surviving sister, who had been some years a widow, and now resided on her own estate near Tholouse. The intercourse between them had not been very frequent. In her condolements, words were not wanting; she understood not the magic of the look that speaks at once to the soul, or the voice that sinks like balm to the heart: but she assured St. Aubert that she sincerely sympathized with him, praised the virtues of his late wife, and then offered what she considered to be consolation. Emily wept unceasingly while she spoke; St. Aubert was tranquil, listened to what she said in silence, and then turned the discourse upon another subject.

Original Português

Nesse melancólico período, St. Aubert foi igualmente visitado por Madame Cheron, sua única irmã sobrevivente, que havia alguns anos era viúva, e residia agora em sua própria propriedade perto de Tolosa. O convívio entre eles não fora muito frequente. Em seus pêsames, não faltaram palavras; ela não entendia a magia do olhar que fala de uma vez à alma, ou da voz que desce como bálsamo ao coração: mas assegurou a St. Aubert que sinceramente se solidarizava com ele, louvou as virtudes de sua falecida esposa, e depois ofereceu o que considerava ser consolo. Emily chorava incessantemente enquanto ela falava; St. Aubert estava tranquilo, escutou o que ela dizia em silêncio, e depois desviou o discurso para outro assunto.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ao partir, ela pediu que ele e Emily a visitassem em breve. Disse: 'Uma mudança de ares vai animá-los. Vocês não devem ceder à tristeza.' St. Aubert concordou com as palavras dela, mas sentia ainda menos vontade de deixar o lugar onde tinha sido feliz com a esposa. A presença dela tinha tornado cada cena especial. A cada dia, à medida que sua dor diminuía devagar, seu amor pelo lar crescia mais forte.

Original English

At parting she pressed him and her niece to make her an early visit. 'Change of place will amuse you,'said she, 'and it is wrong to give way to grief.'St. Aubert acknowledged the truth of these words of course; but, at the same time, felt more reluctant than ever to quit the spot which his past happiness had consecrated. The presence of his wife had sanctified every surrounding scene, and, each day, as it gradually softened the acuteness of his suffering, assisted the tender enchantment that bound him to home.

Original Português

Ao partir, ela insistiu com ele e com a sobrinha para que lhe fizessem uma visita em breve. 'A mudança de lugar vos distrairá', disse ela, 'e é errado entregar-se ao pesar.' St. Aubert reconheceu a verdade dessas palavras, como convinha; mas, ao mesmo tempo, sentia-se mais relutante do que nunca em deixar o lugar que sua passada felicidade consagrara. A presença de sua esposa santificara cada cena circundante e, a cada dia, à medida que gradualmente abrandava a agudeza de seu sofrimento, favorecia o terno encantamento que o prendia ao lar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Mas havia visitas que ele precisava fazer. Uma delas era ao cunhado, M. Quesnel. Algo importante tornava necessário ir logo. Ele também queria ajudar Emily a se sentir melhor, então a levou consigo até Epourville.

Original English

But there were calls which must be complied with, and of this kind was the visit he paid to his brother-in-law M. Quesnel. An affair of an interesting nature made it necessary that he should delay this visit no longer, and, wishing to rouse Emily from her dejection, he took her with him to Epourville.

Original Português

Mas havia chamados que precisavam ser atendidos, e desta espécie era a visita que fez a seu cunhado M. Quesnel. Um assunto de natureza importante tornava necessário que ele não mais adiasse essa visita, e, desejando arrancar Emily de seu abatimento, levou-a consigo a Epourville.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando a carruagem entrou na floresta ao lado das terras de sua família, ele viu o castelo novamente. Ficou triste ao pensar no que tinha acontecido desde a última vez que estivera ali. Agora pertencia a um homem que não se importava com o lugar. Ele entrou na alameda de árvores que o tinham deixado feliz quando menino. A sombra escura agora combinava com seus sentimentos tristes. Ele conseguia ver partes do prédio entre as árvores: a torre larga, o portão em arco para os pátios, a ponte levadiça e o fosso seco ao redor.

Original English

As the carriage entered upon the forest that adjoined his paternal domain, his eyes once more caught, between the chesnut avenue, the turreted corners of the chateau. He sighed to think of what had passed since he was last there, and that it was now the property of a man who neither revered nor valued it. At length he entered the avenue, whose lofty trees had so often delighted him when a boy, and whose melancholy shade was now so congenial with the tone of his spirits. Every feature of the edifice, distinguished by an air of heavy grandeur, appeared successively between the branches of the trees - the broad turret, the arched gate-way that led into the courts, the drawbridge, and the dry fosse which surrounded the whole.

Original Português

Quando a carruagem entrou na floresta que confinava com seu domínio paterno, seus olhos mais uma vez colheram, por entre a alameda de castanheiros, os cantos torreados do castelo. Suspirou ao pensar no que se passara desde que estivera ali pela última vez, e em que agora era propriedade de um homem que nem o reverenciava nem o valorizava. Por fim entrou na alameda, cujas altas árvores tantas vezes o haviam deleitado quando menino, e cuja melancólica sombra era agora tão afim ao tom de seu ânimo. Cada traço do edifício, distinguido por um ar de pesada grandeza, aparecia sucessivamente por entre os ramos das árvores - a larga torre, o portão em arco que conduzia aos pátios, a ponte levadiça, e o fosso seco que cercava o conjunto.

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B1 Português (simplified)

O barulho da carruagem trouxe muitos criados até o grande portão. Ali St. Aubert desceu e levou Emily para o salão gótico. Ele já não estava decorado com o brasão da família e as antigas bandeiras. Elas tinham sido retiradas, e as paredes de carvalho e as vigas do teto foram pintadas de branco. A longa mesa que antes ficava na parte superior do salão tinha desaparecido, assim como os bancos. As paredes estavam cobertas de decorações chamativas, e tudo mostrava o mau gosto e os valores questionáveis do atual dono.

Original English

The sound of carriage wheels brought a troop of servants to the great gate, where St. Aubert alighted, and from which he led Emily into the gothic hall, now no longer hung with the arms and ancient banners of the family. These were displaced, and the oak wainscotting, and beams that crossed the roof, were painted white. The large table, too, that used to stretch along the upper end of the hall, where the master of the mansion loved to display his hospitality, and whence the peal of laughter, and the song of conviviality, had so often resounded, was now removed; even the benches that had surrounded the hall were no longer there. The heavy walls were hung with frivolous ornaments, and every thing that appeared denoted the false taste and corrupted sentiments of the present owner.

Original Português

O som das rodas da carruagem trouxe um bando de criados ao grande portão, onde St. Aubert apeou, e de onde conduziu Emily ao salão gótico, agora já não ornado com as armas e os antigos estandartes da família. Estes haviam sido retirados, e o lambril de carvalho, e as vigas que cruzavam o teto, estavam pintados de branco. A grande mesa, também, que costumava estender-se ao longo da extremidade superior do salão, onde o senhor da mansão gostava de exibir sua hospitalidade, e de onde a gargalhada, e a canção da folia, tantas vezes haviam ressoado, fora agora removida; até os bancos que haviam rodeado o salão já não estavam ali. As pesadas paredes estavam ornadas com frívolos enfeites, e tudo o que aparecia denotava o falso gosto e os sentimentos corrompidos do atual proprietário.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert seguiu um criado parisiense animado até uma sala de estar, onde Mons. e Madame Quesnel esperavam. Eles o receberam com uma cortesia formal. Depois de algumas palavras de condolência, pareciam ter esquecido que um dia tiveram uma irmã.

Original English

St. Aubert followed a gay Parisian servant to a parlour, where sat Mons. and Madame Quesnel, who received him with a stately politeness, and, after a few formal words of condolement, seemed to have forgotten that they ever had a sister.

Original Português

St. Aubert seguiu um garboso criado parisiense até uma sala, onde estavam sentados Mons. e Madame Quesnel, que o receberam com uma cortesia altiva, e, depois de algumas formais palavras de pêsames, pareceram ter esquecido que algum dia haviam tido uma irmã.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily sentiu lágrimas surgirem em seus olhos, mas a raiva as conteve. St. Aubert permaneceu calmo e cuidadoso. Ele manteve sua dignidade sem tentar parecer importante, e Quesnel se sentia incomodado em sua presença, embora não soubesse por quê.

Original English

Emily felt tears swell into her eyes, and then resentment checked them. St. Aubert, calm and deliberate, preserved his dignity without assuming importance, and Quesnel was depressed by his presence without exactly knowing wherefore.

Original Português

Emily sentiu as lágrimas avolumarem-se em seus olhos, e então o ressentimento as conteve. St. Aubert, calmo e ponderado, preservou sua dignidade sem assumir ares de importância, e Quesnel viu-se abatido por sua presença sem saber exatamente por quê.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de uma conversa geral, St. Aubert pediu para falar com ele a sós. Emily ficou com Madame Quesnel e logo soube que um grande grupo estava convidado para jantar no castelo. Também teve que ouvir a afirmação de que nada do passado, e que não pode ser mudado, deveria estragar a alegria da noite presente.

Original English

After some general conversation, St. Aubert requested to speak with him alone; and Emily, being left with Madame Quesnel, soon learned that a large party was invited to dine at the chateau, and was compelled to hear that nothing which was past and irremediable ought to prevent the festivity of the present hour.

Original Português

Após alguma conversa geral, St. Aubert pediu para falar-lhe a sós; e Emily, deixada com Madame Quesnel, logo soube que uma numerosa companhia fora convidada a jantar no castelo, e foi forçada a ouvir que nada do que era passado e irremediável deveria impedir a festividade da hora presente.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando St. Aubert soube da festa, sentiu raiva e repugnância. Quis ir para casa. Mas lhe disseram que Madame Cheron tinha sido convidada para vê-lo. Ele olhou para Emily e pensou que um dia o tio dela poderia prejudicá-la. Então decidiu não irritá-lo indo embora.

Original English

St. Aubert, when he was told that company were expected, felt a mixed emotion of disgust and indignation against the insensibility of Quesnel, which prompted him to return home immediately. But he was informed, that Madame Cheron had been asked to meet him; and, when he looked at Emily, and considered that a time might come when the enmity of her uncle would be prejudicial to her, he determined not to incur it himself, by conduct which would be resented as indecorous, by the very persons who now showed so little sense of decorum.

Original Português

St. Aubert, quando lhe disseram que se esperava companhia, sentiu uma emoção mesclada de repugnância e indignação contra a insensibilidade de Quesnel, que o impeliu a voltar imediatamente para casa. Mas foi informado de que Madame Cheron fora convidada para encontrá-lo; e, quando olhou para Emily, e considerou que poderia chegar um tempo em que a inimizade de seu tio lhe seria prejudicial, resolveu não incorrer nela ele próprio, por uma conduta que seria ressentida como indecorosa, pelas próprias pessoas que agora mostravam tão pouco senso de decoro.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Entre os convidados do jantar estavam dois cavalheiros italianos. Um deles era Montoni, um parente distante de Madame Quesnel. Ele tinha cerca de quarenta anos, era muito bonito e tinha traços fortes e expressivos. Seu rosto mostrava, acima de tudo, o orgulho de um comandante e a mente rápida de um homem que julga as coisas depressa.

Original English

Among the visitors assembled at dinner were two Italian gentlemen, of whom one was named Montoni, a distant relation of Madame Quesnel, a man about forty, of an uncommonly handsome person, with features manly and expressive, but whose countenance exhibited, upon the whole, more of the haughtiness of command, and the quickness of discernment, than of any other character.

Original Português

Entre os visitantes reunidos para o jantar havia dois cavalheiros italianos, um dos quais se chamava Montoni, um parente distante de Madame Quesnel, homem de cerca de quarenta anos, de porte extraordinariamente belo, com feições viris e expressivas, mas cujo semblante exibia, no conjunto, mais da altivez do mando, e da vivacidade do discernimento, do que de qualquer outro caráter.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Signor Cavigni, seu amigo, parecia ter cerca de trinta anos. Era menos imponente que Montoni, mas seu rosto era igualmente perspicaz, e seu jeito era ainda mais suave e charmoso.

Original English

Signor Cavigni, his friend, appeared to be about thirty - inferior in dignity, but equal to him in penetration of countenance, and superior in insinuation of manner.

Original Português

O Signor Cavigni, seu amigo, parecia ter cerca de trinta anos - inferior em dignidade, mas igual a ele na penetração do semblante, e superior na insinuação dos modos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily ficou chocada com o jeito que Madame Cheron cumprimentou seu pai: 'Querido irmão', disse ela. 'Lamento ver que você parece tão doente. Por favor, procure um conselho médico!' St. Aubert respondeu com um sorriso triste que se sentia mais ou menos como sempre. Mas o medo de Emily agora a fazia pensar que o pai parecia pior do que realmente estava.

Original English

Emily was shocked by the salutation with which Madame Cheron met her father - 'Dear brother,'said she, 'I am concerned to see you look so very ill; do, pray, have advice!'St. Aubert answered, with a melancholy smile, that he felt himself much as usual; but Emily's fears made her now fancy that her father looked worse than he really did.

Original Português

Emily ficou chocada com a saudação com que Madame Cheron recebeu seu pai - 'Querido irmão', disse ela, 'aflige-me vê-lo com um aspecto tão adoentado; por favor, consulte um médico!' St. Aubert respondeu, com um melancólico sorriso, que se sentia mais ou menos como de costume; mas os temores de Emily fizeram-na agora imaginar que o pai parecia pior do que realmente estava.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily poderia ter gostado das pessoas novas que viu e da conversa animada durante o jantar, servido com grande esplendor, se não estivesse tão perturbada. Signor Montoni tinha acabado de chegar da Itália. Ele falou com veemência sobre a agitação por lá, discutiu com paixão as diferenças políticas e depois falou com tristeza sobre os prováveis resultados dos conflitos. Seu amigo também falou com paixão sobre política. Elogiou o governo e a riqueza de Veneza e disse que ela era melhor do que todos os outros estados italianos. Depois se voltou para as damas e falou com igual habilidade sobre a moda de Paris, a ópera francesa e os costumes franceses. Também misturou o tipo de elogio bajulador que o gosto francês mais aprecia. As mulheres não perceberam, embora ele visse que isso as fazia escutar com atenção. Quando conseguia se afastar das outras damas, às vezes falava com Emily. Mas ela não sabia nada sobre a moda de Paris ou sobre ópera, e seus modos modestos, simples e corretos eram muito diferentes dos das outras mulheres.

Original English

Emily would have been amused by the new characters she saw, and the varied conversation that passed during dinner, which was served in a style of splendour she had seldom seen before, had her spirits been less oppressed. Of the guests, Signor Montoni was lately come from Italy, and he spoke of the commotions which at that period agitated the country; talked of party differences with warmth, and then lamented the probable consequences of the tumults. His friend spoke with equal ardour, of the politics of his country; praised the government and prosperity of Venice, and boasted of its decided superiority over all the other Italian states. He then turned to the ladies, and talked with the same eloquence, of Parisian fashions, the French opera, and French manners; and on the latter subject he did not fail to mingle what is so particularly agreeable to French taste. The flattery was not detected by those to whom it was addressed, though its effect, in producing submissive attention, did not escape his observation. When he could disengage himself from the assiduities of the other ladies, he sometimes addressed Emily: but she knew nothing of Parisian fashions, or Parisian operas; and her modesty, simplicity, and correct manners formed a decided contrast to those of her female companions.

Original Português

Emily ter-se-ia divertido com os novos caracteres que via, e com a variada conversa que se passou durante o jantar, servido num estilo de esplendor que ela raras vezes vira antes, tivesse seu ânimo estado menos oprimido. Dentre os hóspedes, o Signor Montoni chegara havia pouco da Itália, e falava das comoções que naquele período agitavam o país; discorria com ardor sobre as divergências entre os partidos, e então lamentava as prováveis consequências dos tumultos. Seu amigo falava com igual ardor sobre a política de seu país; louvava o governo e a prosperidade de Veneza, e vangloriava-se de sua decidida superioridade sobre todos os demais estados italianos. Depois voltou-se para as damas, e discorreu com a mesma eloquência sobre as modas parisienses, a ópera francesa, e as maneiras francesas; e sobre este último assunto não deixou de mesclar o que é tão particularmente agradável ao gosto francês. A lisonja não foi percebida por aqueles a quem se dirigia, embora o seu efeito, em produzir uma atenção submissa, não escapasse à sua observação. Quando conseguia livrar-se dos assédios das outras damas, dirigia-se por vezes a Emily: mas ela nada sabia de modas parisienses, ou de óperas parisienses; e sua modéstia, simplicidade, e corretos modos formavam um decidido contraste com os de suas companheiras.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois do jantar, St. Aubert saiu da sala para olhar novamente o velho castanheiro que Quesnel queria cortar. Ficou parado em sua sombra e olhou para cima, através de seus galhos frondosos, onde pedaços de céu azul apareciam entre eles. Enquanto fazia isso, lembranças de sua vida passada voltaram à sua mente. Pensou em amigos que já tinham morrido há muito tempo. Agora se sentia quase sozinho no mundo, com apenas Emily para quem podia voltar seu coração.

Original English

After dinner, St. Aubert stole from the room to view once more the old chesnut which Quesnel talked of cutting down. As he stood under its shade, and looked up among its branches, still luxuriant, and saw here and there the blue sky trembling between them; the pursuits and events of his early days crowded fast to his mind, with the figures and characters of friends - long since gone from the earth; and he now felt himself to be almost an insulated being, with nobody but his Emily for his heart to turn to.

Original Português

Depois do jantar, St. Aubert esgueirou-se da sala para contemplar mais uma vez o velho castanheiro que Quesnel falava em derrubar. Enquanto estava sob sua sombra, e erguia o olhar por entre seus ramos, ainda luxuriantes, e via aqui e ali o céu azul tremulando por entre eles, as ocupações e os acontecimentos de seus primeiros dias acorreram-lhe velozes à mente, com as figuras e os caracteres de amigos - há muito partidos deste mundo; e sentiu-se agora quase um ser isolado, sem ninguém a não ser sua Emily para quem seu coração pudesse voltar-se.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ele ficou ali, perdido em pensamentos sobre anos passados, até que a lembrança terminou com a imagem de sua esposa morrendo. Então se afastou depressa, esperando esquecer aquilo à mesa do jantar.

Original English

He stood lost amid the scenes of years which fancy called up, till the succession closed with the picture of his dying wife, and he started away, to forget it, if possible, at the social board.

Original Português

Ficou perdido em meio às cenas de anos que a fantasia evocava, até que a sucessão se encerrou com o quadro de sua esposa moribunda, e afastou-se de um salto, para esquecê-lo, se possível, à mesa social.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert partiu cedo em sua carruagem, e Emily percebeu que ele estava mais calado e triste do que o normal no caminho de volta para casa. Ela pensou que isso era apenas por causa da visita a um lugar que trazia lembranças antigas. Ela não sabia que ele tinha uma tristeza escondida.

Original English

St. Aubert ordered his carriage at an early hour, and Emily observed, that he was more than usually silent and dejected on the way home; but she considered this to be the effect of his visit to a place which spoke so eloquently of former times, nor suspected that he had a cause of grief which he concealed from her.

Original Português

St. Aubert mandou aprontar a carruagem cedo, e Emily observou que ele estava mais silencioso e abatido do que de costume no caminho para casa; mas atribuiu isso ao efeito de sua visita a um lugar que falava tão eloquentemente de tempos passados, e não suspeitou que ele tivesse um motivo de pesar que lhe ocultava.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando ela entrou no castelo, sentiu-se ainda mais infeliz. Sentia falta de sua querida mãe mais do que nunca. Quando voltava para casa antes, a mãe sempre a recebia com sorrisos e amor. Agora tudo estava quieto e vazio.

Original English

On entering the chateau she felt more depressed than ever, for she more than ever missed the presence of that dear parent, who, whenever she had been from home, used to welcome her return with smiles and fondness; now, all was silent and forsaken.

Original Português

Ao entrar no castelo, ela sentiu-se mais deprimida do que nunca, pois mais do que nunca sentia falta da presença daquela querida mãe que, sempre que ela estivera fora de casa, costumava acolher seu regresso com sorrisos e carinho; agora, tudo estava silencioso e desamparado.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Mas o tempo pode fazer o que a razão e o esforço não conseguem. Semana após semana se passou, e cada uma diminuía um pouco sua dor, até que ela se tornou a tristeza suave que um coração amoroso guarda como algo sagrado. St. Aubert, porém, foi ficando mais fraco de saúde. Emily, que estava sempre com ele, foi quase a última a perceber isso. O corpo dele nunca tinha se recuperado totalmente da febre, e o choque da morte de Madame St. Aubert o tinha deixado pior. Agora o médico lhe disse para viajar, porque o luto tinha afetado seus nervos, já enfraquecidos pela doença. Uma mudança de cenário poderia ajudar, distraindo sua mente e restaurando suas forças.

Original English

But what reason and effort may fail to do, time effects. Week after week passed away, and each, as it passed, stole something from the harshness of her affliction, till it was mellowed to that tenderness which the feeling heart cherishes as sacred. St. Aubert, on the contrary, visibly declined in health; though Emily, who had been so constantly with him, was almost the last person who observed it. His constitution had never recovered from the late attack of the fever, and the succeeding shock it received from Madame St. Aubert's death had produced its present infirmity. His physician now ordered him to travel; for it was perceptible that sorrow had seized upon his nerves, weakened as they had been by the preceding illness; and variety of scene, it was probable, would, by amusing his mind, restore them to their proper tone.

Original Português

Mas o que a razão e o esforço podem não conseguir, o tempo o realiza. Semana após semana se passou, e cada uma, ao passar, furtava algo à aspereza de sua aflição, até que esta se abrandou naquela ternura que o coração sensível acalenta como sagrada. St. Aubert, ao contrário, declinava visivelmente na saúde; embora Emily, que estivera tão constantemente com ele, fosse quase a última pessoa a notá-lo. Sua constituição jamais se recuperara do recente ataque da febre, e o abalo subsequente que recebera com a morte de Madame St. Aubert produzira sua atual debilidade. Seu médico ordenou-lhe agora que viajasse; pois era perceptível que o pesar se apoderara de seus nervos, enfraquecidos como estavam pela doença anterior; e a variedade de cenas, era provável, ao distrair-lhe a mente, os restauraria ao seu devido tom.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Por alguns dias, Emily ficou ocupada se preparando para viajar com ele. St. Aubert também tentou reduzir o custo da viagem e, por fim, decidiu dispensar os criados. Emily normalmente não questionava os desejos do pai, senão teria perguntado por que ele não levaria nenhum criado, já que sua saúde fraca tornava isso quase necessário. Mas na noite antes de partirem, ela descobriu que ele tinha mandado embora Jacques, Francis e Mary, e tinha mantido apenas Theresa, a velha governanta. Ela ficou muito surpresa e perguntou por que ele tinha feito isso. 'Para economizar dinheiro, minha querida', disse ele. 'Vamos fazer uma viagem cara.'

Original English

For some days Emily was occupied in preparations to attend him; and he, by endeavours to diminish his expences at home during the journey - a purpose which determined him at length to dismiss his domestics. Emily seldom opposed her father's wishes by questions or remonstrances, or she would now have asked why he did not take a servant, and have represented that his infirm health made one almost necessary. But when, on the eve of their departure, she found that he had dismissed Jacques, Francis, and Mary, and detained only Theresa the old housekeeper, she was extremely surprised, and ventured to ask his reason for having done so. 'To save expences, my dear,'he replied - 'we are going on an expensive excursion.'

Original Português

Por alguns dias, Emily ocupou-se em preparativos para acompanhá-lo; e ele, em esforços para diminuir suas despesas em casa durante a viagem - propósito que por fim o levou a dispensar seus criados. Emily raras vezes se opunha aos desejos do pai com perguntas ou objeções, ou teria agora perguntado por que ele não levava um criado, e observado que sua débil saúde tornava um quase necessário. Mas quando, na véspera da partida, descobriu que ele dispensara Jacques, Francis e Mary, e retivera apenas Theresa, a velha governanta, ficou extremamente surpresa, e aventurou-se a perguntar-lhe a razão de o ter feito. 'Para poupar despesas, minha querida', respondeu ele - 'estamos indo numa excursão dispendiosa.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

O médico tinha dito para ele viajar pelos ares de Languedoc e da Provença. Então St. Aubert decidiu seguir devagar pela costa do Mediterrâneo em direção à Provença.

Original English

The physician had prescribed the air of Languedoc and Provence; and St. Aubert determined, therefore, to travel leisurely along the shores of the Mediterranean, towards Provence.

Original Português

O médico prescrevera o ar do Languedoc e da Provença; e St. Aubert resolveu, portanto, viajar sem pressa ao longo das costas do Mediterrâneo, rumo à Provença.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Foram dormir cedo na noite anterior à partida. Mas Emily ainda tinha alguns livros e outras coisas para arrumar, e já passava da meia-noite quando ela terminou. Então se lembrou de que alguns de seus materiais de desenho, que pretendia levar, estavam lá embaixo, na sala. Ao ir buscá-los, passou pelo quarto do pai. A porta estava entreaberta, então ela pensou que ele estivesse em seu escritório. Desde a morte de Madame St. Aubert, tinha sido comum ele deixar a cama agitada e ir para lá para acalmar a mente. Emily olhou lá embaixo, mas ele não estava. Quando voltou ao seu quarto, bateu na porta dele. Sem obter resposta, entrou devagar para ver se ele estava lá dentro.

Original English

They retired early to their chamber on the night before their departure; but Emily had a few books and other things to collect, and the clock had struck twelve before she had finished, or had remembered that some of her drawing instruments, which she meant to take with her, were in the parlour below. As she went to fetch these, she passed her father's room, and, perceiving the door half open, concluded that he was in his study - for, since the death of Madame St. Aubert, it had been frequently his custom to rise from his restless bed, and go thither to compose his mind. When she was below stairs she looked into this room, but without finding him; and as she returned to her chamber, she tapped at his door, and receiving no answer, stepped softly in, to be certain whether he was there.

Original Português

Recolheram-se cedo ao quarto na noite anterior à partida; mas Emily tinha alguns livros e outras coisas a reunir, e o relógio dera meia-noite antes que ela terminasse, ou se lembrasse de que alguns de seus instrumentos de desenho, que pretendia levar consigo, estavam na sala lá embaixo. Ao ir buscá-los, passou pelo quarto do pai e, notando a porta entreaberta, concluiu que ele estava em seu gabinete de estudo - pois, desde a morte de Madame St. Aubert, fora frequentemente seu costume erguer-se de seu leito inquieto, e ir para lá acalmar o espírito. Quando estava lá embaixo, olhou dentro desse aposento, mas sem encontrá-lo; e, ao voltar para o seu quarto, bateu de leve à porta dele, e, não recebendo resposta, entrou de mansinho, para certificar-se de se ele ali estava.

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B1 Português (simplified)

O quarto estava escuro, mas um pouco de luz passava pelos vidros na parte superior da porta de um closet. Emily pensou que o pai devia estar no closet. Ficou surpresa por ele estar acordado tão tarde e achou que ele pudesse estar doente. Ela quis perguntar, mas não quis assustá-lo aparecendo de repente. Então deixou sua luz na escada e foi devagar até o closet. Olhando pelo vidro, ela o viu sentado a uma mesinha, com papéis à sua frente. Ele os lia com muito cuidado e chorava e soluçava em voz alta com frequência. Emily tinha ido verificar se ele estava doente, mas agora ficou ali, curiosa e ao mesmo tempo comovida. Ela pensou que os papéis pudessem ser cartas de sua mãe falecida. Logo ele se ajoelhou e rezou em silêncio por muito tempo. Seu rosto parecia solene, e Emily raramente o tinha visto com uma expressão tão intensa e assustada.

Original English

The room was dark, but a light glimmered through some panes of glass that were placed in the upper part of a closet-door. Emily believed her father to be in the closet, and, surprised that he was up at so late an hour, apprehended he was unwell, and was going to enquire; but, considering that her sudden appearance at this hour might alarm him, she removed her light to the stair-case, and then stepped softly to the closet. On looking through the panes of glass, she saw him seated at a small table, with papers before him, some of which he was reading with deep attention and interest, during which he often wept and sobbed aloud. Emily, who had come to the door to learn whether her father was ill, was now detained there by a mixture of curiosity and tenderness. She could not witness his sorrow, without being anxious to know the subject of; and she therefore continued to observe him in silence, concluding that those papers were letters of her late mother. Presently he knelt down, and with a look so solemn as she had seldom seen him assume, and which was mingled with a certain wild expression, that partook more of horror than of any other character, he prayed silently for a considerable time.

Original Português

O aposento estava escuro, mas uma luz bruxuleava através de alguns vidros que estavam colocados na parte superior da porta de um gabinete. Emily julgou que o pai estivesse no gabinete e, surpresa por ele estar de pé a hora tão tardia, receou que estivesse indisposto, e ia indagar; mas, considerando que seu súbito aparecimento a essa hora poderia alarmá-lo, afastou a sua luz para a escada, e então avançou de mansinho até o gabinete. Ao olhar através dos vidros, viu-o sentado a uma pequena mesa, com papéis diante de si, alguns dos quais lia com profunda atenção e interesse, durante o que muitas vezes chorava e soluçava alto. Emily, que viera à porta para saber se o pai estava doente, viu-se agora ali retida por uma mistura de curiosidade e ternura. Não podia testemunhar o pesar dele sem ansiar por saber o motivo; e por isso continuou a observá-lo em silêncio, concluindo que aqueles papéis eram cartas de sua falecida mãe. Em seguida ele ajoelhou-se e, com um ar tão solene como raras vezes o vira assumir, e que se mesclava a uma certa expressão desvairada, que participava mais do horror do que de qualquer outro caráter, rezou em silêncio por tempo considerável.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando ele se levantou, seu rosto estava muito pálido. Emily estava prestes a sair depressa, mas então o viu voltar aos papéis, então parou. Ele pegou um pequeno estojo entre eles e, de dentro dele, um retrato em miniatura. A luz caiu sobre ele, e ela viu que era o retrato de uma dama, mas não de sua mãe.

Original English

When he rose, a ghastly paleness was on his countenance. Emily was hastily retiring; but she saw him turn again to the papers, and she stopped. He took from among them a small case, and from thence a miniature picture. The rays of light fell strongly upon it, and she perceived it to be that of a lady, but not of her mother.

Original Português

Quando se ergueu, uma palidez lívida cobria-lhe o semblante. Emily retirava-se às pressas; mas viu-o voltar-se de novo para os papéis, e deteve-se. Ele tirou dentre eles um pequeno estojo, e de lá uma miniatura. Os raios de luz caíam fortes sobre ela, e ela percebeu tratar-se de uma dama, mas não de sua mãe.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert olhou para o retrato com grande emoção. Ele o beijou, depois o apertou contra o peito e suspirou fundo. Emily mal podia acreditar no que via. Até aquele momento, ela nunca soubera que ele tinha o retrato de outra mulher além de sua mãe. Ficou ainda mais surpresa ao ver o quanto ele valorizava aquele retrato. Depois de olhar para ele várias vezes, para ter certeza de que não era Madame St. Aubert, ela ficou totalmente certa de que era o retrato de outra pessoa.

Original English

St. Aubert gazed earnestly and tenderly upon his portrait, put it to his lips, and then to his heart, and sighed with a convulsive force. Emily could scarcely believe what she saw to be real. She never knew till now that he had a picture of any other lady than her mother, much less that he had one which he evidently valued so highly; but having looked repeatedly, to be certain that it was not the resemblance of Madame St. Aubert, she became entirely convinced that it was designed for that of some other person.

Original Português

St. Aubert contemplou o retrato com fervor e ternura, levou-o aos lábios e, em seguida, ao coração, e suspirou com força convulsiva. Emily mal podia crer que fosse real o que via. Até então nunca soubera que ele guardasse o retrato de qualquer outra dama que não sua mãe, e muito menos que possuísse um a que evidentemente atribuía tão alto valor; mas, tendo olhado repetidas vezes, para certificar-se de que não era a imagem de Madame St. Aubert, convenceu-se por completo de que fora destinado a representar alguma outra pessoa.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Por fim, St. Aubert guardou o retrato de volta na caixa. Emily então se lembrou de que estava perturbando a dor íntima dele, então saiu do quarto em silêncio.

Original English

At length St. Aubert returned the picture to its case; and Emily, recollecting that she was intruding upon his private sorrows, softly withdrew from the chamber.

Original Português

Por fim, St. Aubert recolocou o retrato em seu estojo; e Emily, lembrando-se de que se intrometia em seus pesares íntimos, retirou-se suavemente do aposento.

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Chapter III

B1 Português (simplified)

Como você pode abrir mão do tesouro infinito de encantos que a natureza oferece a quem a ama? Pense na floresta que canta e na praia que ecoa. Pense no esplendor dos bosques e na beleza dos campos. Pense em tudo que o raio da manhã ilumina, e em tudo que responde ao canto da noite. Pense em tudo que a montanha guarda em seu peito, e em toda a grandiosa magnificência do céu. Como você pode abrir mão disso tudo e ainda esperar ser perdoado? Esses encantos trarão saúde eterna à sua alma. Eles lhe darão amor, doçura e alegria. O MENESTREL

Original English

O how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which nature to her vot'ry yields! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even; All that the mountain's shelt'ring bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven; O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven!..... These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy, impart. THE MINSTREL

Original Português

Oh, como podes renunciar ao infinito tesouro De encantos que a natureza concede a quem a venera! O bosque canoro, a praia ressoante, A pompa dos arvoredos e o adorno dos campos; Tudo o que o raio benigno da manhã doura, E tudo o que ecoa à canção do entardecer; Tudo o que o seio abrigador da montanha protege, E toda a temível magnificência do céu; Oh, como podes renunciar a isto, e esperar o perdão!..... Estes encantos hão de obrar a eterna saúde de tua alma, E infundir amor, e brandura, e alegria. O MENESTREL

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert não seguiu o caminho mais curto pela base dos Pireneus até Languedoc. Em vez disso, escolheu uma estrada que subia pelas alturas e oferecia vistas mais amplas e uma paisagem de montanha mais bonita. Ele também se desviou um pouco do caminho para visitar M. Barreaux. Encontrou-o no bosque perto de seu castelo, observando plantas. Quando M. Barreaux ouviu o motivo da visita de St. Aubert, mostrou mais preocupação do que St. Aubert esperava. Eles se despediram com verdadeira tristeza.

Original English

St. Aubert, instead of taking the more direct road, that ran along the feet of the Pyrenees to Languedoc, chose one that, winding over the heights, afforded more extensive views and greater variety of romantic scenery. He turned a little out of his way to take leave of M. Barreaux, whom he found botanizing in the wood near his chateau, and who, when he was told the purpose of St. Aubert's visit, expressed a degree of concern, such as his friend had thought it was scarcely possible for him to feel on any similar occasion. They parted with mutual regret.

Original Português

St. Aubert, em vez de tomar a estrada mais direta, que corria ao pé dos Pireneus até o Languedoc, escolheu uma que, serpenteando pelas alturas, oferecia vistas mais amplas e maior variedade de cenários românticos. Desviou-se um pouco de seu caminho para despedir-se de M. Barreaux, a quem encontrou herborizando no bosque próximo a seu castelo, e que, quando lhe contaram o propósito da visita de St. Aubert, manifestou um grau de pesar que seu amigo julgara ser-lhe quase impossível sentir em ocasião semelhante. Separaram-se com mútuo pesar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Se alguma coisa pudesse me fazer deixar minha vida tranquila", disse M. Barreaux, "seria o prazer de acompanhá-lo nesta pequena viagem. Eu não costumo elogiar as pessoas, então pode acreditar em mim quando digo que esperarei sua volta com grande impaciência."

Original English

'If any thing could have tempted me from my retirement,'said M. Barreaux, 'it would have been the pleasure of accompanying you on this little tour. I do not often offer compliments; you may, therefore, believe me, when I say, that I shall look for your return with impatience.'

Original Português

'Se algo pudesse tentar-me a deixar meu retiro', disse M. Barreaux, 'seria o prazer de vos acompanhar nesta pequena excursão. Não costumo fazer elogios; podeis, pois, acreditar-me quando digo que esperarei vosso regresso com impaciência.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Os viajantes continuaram sua jornada. Enquanto subiam as alturas, St. Aubert olhava várias vezes para trás, para o castelo no vale abaixo. Muitas lembranças ternas encheram sua mente. Em sua imaginação triste, ele pensou que talvez nunca mais voltasse. Tentou afastar esse pensamento, mas continuou olhando para trás, até que a distância ficou embaçada e sua casa se misturou com toda a paisagem, e St. Aubert parecia

Original English

The travellers proceeded on their journey. As they ascended the heights, St. Aubert often looked back upon the chateau, in the plain below; tender images crowded to his mind; his melancholy imagination suggested that he should return no more; and though he checked this wandering thought, still he continued to look, till the haziness of distance blended his home with the general landscape, and St. Aubert seemed to

Original Português

Os viajantes prosseguiram sua jornada. À medida que subiam as alturas, St. Aubert olhava com frequência para trás, na direção do castelo, na planície abaixo; ternas imagens acorriam-lhe à mente; sua imaginação melancólica sugeria-lhe que jamais retornaria; e, embora refreasse esse pensamento errante, continuava a olhar, até que a bruma da distância fundiu seu lar à paisagem geral, e St. Aubert parecia

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B1 Português (simplified)

ser puxado cada vez mais para longe a cada passo, como uma corrente que ia ficando cada vez mais comprida.

Original English

Drag at each remove a lengthening chain.

Original Português

Arrastar, a cada passo que o afasta, uma corrente que se alonga.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ele e Emily ficaram perdidos em pensamentos silenciosos por vários quilômetros. Emily foi a primeira a despertar de seu triste devaneio, e as vistas grandiosas ao redor aos poucos lhe trouxeram prazer. A estrada descia por vales profundos, fechados por enormes paredes de rocha, cinzentas e nuas, exceto por arbustos no topo e plantas rasteiras nas partes mais baixas, onde cabras selvagens costumavam se alimentar. Depois a estrada levava a penhascos altos, de onde se podia ver toda a paisagem em sua grandeza.

Original English

He and Emily continued sunk in musing silence for some leagues, from which melancholy reverie Emily first awoke, and her young fancy, struck with the grandeur of the objects around, gradually yielded to delightful impressions. The road now descended into glens, confined by stupendous walls of rock, grey and barren, except where shrubs fringed their summits, or patches of meagre vegetation tinted their recesses, in which the wild goat was frequently browsing. And now, the way led to the lofty cliffs, from whence the landscape was seen extending in all its magnificence.

Original Português

Ele e Emily permaneceram mergulhados em silêncio pensativo por algumas léguas, devaneio melancólico do qual Emily foi a primeira a despertar; e sua jovem fantasia, tocada pela grandeza dos objetos ao redor, cedeu aos poucos a impressões deliciosas. A estrada descia agora por desfiladeiros, cercados por estupendas muralhas de rocha, cinzentas e áridas, exceto onde arbustos orlavam seus cumes, ou onde retalhos de escassa vegetação matizavam seus recessos, nos quais a cabra selvagem pastava frequentemente. E agora o caminho conduzia às altas escarpas, de onde se via a paisagem estender-se em toda a sua magnificência.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily não conseguia conter sua alegria ao olhar das florestas de pinheiros nas montanhas para as vastas planícies abaixo. Havia bosques, cidades, vinhedos avermelhados e plantações de amêndoas, palmeiras e oliveiras. Suas cores se misturavam ao longe em um único tom suave, como se a terra e o céu estivessem unidos. Através dessa paisagem maravilhosa corria o grande rio Garonne, descendo dos Pireneus e serpenteando suas águas azuis em direção à Baía de Biscaia.

Original English

Emily could not restrain her transport as she looked over the pine forests of the mountains upon the vast plains, that, enriched with woods, towns, blushing vines, and plantations of almonds, palms, and olives, stretched along, till their various colours melted in distance into one harmonious hue, that seemed to unite earth with heaven. Through the whole of this glorious scene the majestic Garonne wandered; descending from its source among the Pyrenees, and winding its blue waves towards the Bay of Biscay.

Original Português

Emily não pôde conter seu arrebatamento ao contemplar, para além das florestas de pinheiros das montanhas, as vastas planícies que, enriquecidas de bosques, vilas, vinhas ruborizadas e plantações de amendoeiras, palmeiras e oliveiras, se estendiam ao longe, até que suas várias cores se dissolviam na distância em um único matiz harmonioso, que parecia unir a terra ao céu. Por toda essa gloriosa cena vagava o majestoso Garonne, descendo de sua nascente entre os Pireneus e serpenteando suas ondas azuis rumo à Baía de Biscaia.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A estrada acidentada, usada por pouca gente, obrigava com frequência os viajantes a descer de sua pequena carruagem. Mas eles sentiam que as vistas grandiosas compensavam totalmente esse incômodo. Enquanto o condutor de mulas guiava lentamente os animais pelo terreno irregular, eles tinham tempo de parar naqueles lugares solitários e refletir profundamente. Pensamentos assim podem acalmar o coração ao mesmo tempo em que o elevam, dando-lhe a forte sensação de que Deus está presente ali. Ainda assim, St. Aubert sentia uma triste ternura que dava a tudo uma cor mais suave e fazia com que tudo ao seu redor parecesse mais sagrado.

Original English

The ruggedness of the unfrequented road often obliged the wanderers to alight from their little carriage, but they thought themselves amply repaid for this inconvenience by the grandeur of the scenes; and, while the muleteer led his animals slowly over the broken ground, the travellers had leisure to linger amid these solitudes, and to indulge the sublime reflections, which soften, while they elevate, the heart, and fill it with the certainty of a present God! Still the enjoyment of St. Aubert was touched with that pensive melancholy, which gives to every object a mellower tint, and breathes a sacred charm over all around.

Original Português

A aspereza da estrada pouco frequentada obrigava amiúde os viajantes a apearem de sua pequena carruagem, mas julgavam-se amplamente recompensados por esse incômodo pela grandeza das cenas; e, enquanto o arrieiro conduzia lentamente seus animais pelo terreno acidentado, os viajantes tinham lazer para demorar-se em meio a essas solidões e entregar-se às sublimes reflexões que abrandam, ao mesmo tempo que elevam, o coração, e o enchem da certeza de um Deus presente! Ainda assim, o deleite de St. Aubert estava tocado por aquela pensativa melancolia que confere a cada objeto uma tonalidade mais suave e exala um encanto sagrado sobre tudo ao redor.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Eles já haviam se preparado para parte dos problemas causados pela falta de boas pousadas. Levavam comida na carruagem, para poder descansar e comer ao ar livre em um lugar agradável, e dormir em qualquer casa de campo confortável que encontrassem. Também levavam algo para a mente: um livro de botânica de M. Barreaux e vários poetas latinos e italianos. Emily também tinha seu lápis, que lhe permitia guardar algumas das formas e cenas que a agradavam a cada passo do caminho.

Original English

They had provided against part of the evil to be encountered from a want of convenient inns, by carrying a stock of provisions in the carriage, so that they might take refreshment on any pleasant spot, in the open air, and pass the nights wherever they should happen to meet with a comfortable cottage. For the mind, also, they had provided, by a work on botany, written by M. Barreaux, and by several of the Latin and Italian poets; while Emily's pencil enabled her to preserve some of those combinations of forms, which charmed her at every step.

Original Português

Haviam-se precavido contra parte do inconveniente que decorreria da falta de estalagens cômodas, levando na carruagem uma provisão de mantimentos, de modo que pudessem refazer-se em qualquer lugar aprazível, ao ar livre, e passar as noites onde quer que viessem a encontrar uma cabana confortável. Também para o espírito haviam provido, com uma obra de botânica escrita por M. Barreaux e com vários dos poetas latinos e italianos; enquanto o lápis de Emily lhe permitia preservar algumas daquelas combinações de formas que a encantavam a cada passo.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A estrada era solitária. De vez em quando viam apenas um camponês guiando uma mula, ou crianças da montanha brincando entre as rochas. Isso fazia a paisagem parecer ainda mais bonita. St. Aubert ficou tão impressionado que decidiu ir mais fundo nas montanhas, se encontrasse uma estrada. Ele queria virar mais para o sul e depois sair em Rousillon, viajando pela parte mediterrânea do país em direção a Languedoc.

Original English

The loneliness of the road, where, only now and then, a peasant was seen driving his mule, or some mountaineer-children at play among the rocks, heightened the effect of the scenery. St. Aubert was so much struck with it, that he determined, if he could hear of a road, to penetrate further among the mountains, and, bending his way rather more to the south, to emerge into Rousillon, and coast the Mediterranean along part of that country to Languedoc.

Original Português

A solidão da estrada, onde apenas de quando em quando se via um camponês tocando sua mula, ou algumas crianças montanhesas a brincar entre as rochas, realçava o efeito do cenário. St. Aubert ficou tão impressionado com isso que resolveu, se pudesse ter notícia de uma estrada, penetrar mais fundo entre as montanhas e, inclinando um pouco mais seu caminho para o sul, emergir no Rossilhão e costear o Mediterrâneo ao longo de parte daquela região até o Languedoc.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Pouco depois do meio-dia, chegaram ao topo de um penhasco. Palmeiras cresciam ali e deixavam o lugar verde e brilhante, como joias sobre as grandes paredes de rocha. Dali podiam ver quase toda a Gasconha e parte de Languedoc. Havia sombra e água fresca de uma nascente, que corria pela grama sob as árvores e depois caía de pedra em pedra, até que seu som se perdia no vale profundo abaixo. Ainda assim, sua espuma branca podia ser vista por muito tempo entre os pinheiros escuros.

Original English

Soon after mid-day, they reached the summit of one of those cliffs, which, bright with the verdure of palm-trees, adorn, like gems, the tremendous walls of the rocks, and which overlooked the greater part of Gascony, and part of Languedoc. Here was shade, and the fresh water of a spring, that, gliding among the turf, under the trees, thence precipitated itself from rock to rock, till its dashing murmurs were lost in the abyss, though its white foam was long seen amid the darkness of the pines below.

Original Português

Pouco depois do meio-dia, alcançaram o cume de um daqueles penhascos que, resplandecentes com o verdor das palmeiras, adornam como gemas as tremendas muralhas de rocha, e que dominavam a maior parte da Gasconha e parte do Languedoc. Havia ali sombra, e a água fresca de uma fonte que, deslizando pela relva, sob as árvores, dali se precipitava de rocha em rocha, até que seus murmúrios estrondosos se perdiam no abismo, embora sua branca espuma se avistasse por muito tempo em meio à escuridão dos pinheiros abaixo.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Era um bom lugar para descansar, então os viajantes desceram da carruagem para almoçar. As mulas foram desatreladas para que pudessem comer as ervas que cresciam no topo do penhasco.

Original English

This was a spot well suited for rest, and the travellers alighted to dine, while the mules were unharnessed to browse on the savoury herbs that enriched this summit.

Original Português

Era um lugar bem apropriado ao repouso, e os viajantes apearam para jantar, enquanto se desatrelavam as mulas para que pastassem as ervas saborosas que enriqueciam aquele cume.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Levou algum tempo até que St. Aubert e Emily conseguissem parar de olhar para a paisagem ao redor e começar a comer. Sentado à sombra das palmeiras, St. Aubert mostrou a Emily o curso dos rios, a localização das grandes cidades e as fronteiras das províncias. Ele conhecia essas coisas mais por estudo do que por tê-las visto. Depois de falar por um tempo, ficou calado e pensativo. Lágrimas frequentemente enchiam seus olhos, e Emily as via e entendia o motivo. Aquele lugar os lembrava de uma vista favorita da falecida Madame St. Aubert perto da casa de pesca, embora esta fosse muito mais grandiosa. Os dois pensaram em como ela teria sido feliz ali, e também em como seus olhos nunca mais se abririam para este mundo. St. Aubert se lembrou da última vez que estivera ali com ela, e dos pensamentos tristes que tivera naquele momento. Agora, esses pensamentos haviam se tornado realidade muito rapidamente. A lembrança o dominou, e ele de repente se levantou e se afastou para que ninguém visse sua tristeza.

Original English

It was some time before St. Aubert or Emily could withdraw their attention from the surrounding objects, so as to partake of their little repast. Seated in the shade of the palms, St. Aubert pointed out to her observation the course of the rivers, the situation of great towns, and the boundaries of provinces, which science, rather than the eye, enabled him to describe. Notwithstanding this occupation, when he had talked awhile he suddenly became silent, thoughtful, and tears often swelled to his eyes, which Emily observed, and the sympathy of her own heart told her their cause. The scene before them bore some resemblance, though it was on a much grander scale, to a favourite one of the late Madame St. Aubert, within view of the fishing-house. They both observed this, and thought how delighted she would have been with the present landscape, while they knew that her eyes must never, never more open upon this world. St. Aubert remembered the last time of his visiting that spot in company with her, and also the mournfully presaging thoughts which had then arisen in his mind, and were now, even thus soon, realized! The recollections subdued him, and he abruptly rose from his seat, and walked away to where no eye could observe his grief.

Original Português

Passou-se algum tempo antes que St. Aubert ou Emily pudessem desviar a atenção dos objetos que os cercavam para partilhar de sua modesta refeição. Sentado à sombra das palmeiras, St. Aubert indicava à observação dela o curso dos rios, a situação das grandes cidades e os limites das províncias, que a ciência, mais do que a vista, lhe permitia descrever. Não obstante essa ocupação, depois de falar por algum tempo, tornou-se de repente silencioso, pensativo, e lágrimas amiúde lhe afluíam aos olhos, o que Emily notou, e a compaixão de seu próprio coração lhe revelou a causa. A cena diante deles guardava certa semelhança, embora em escala muito mais grandiosa, com uma predileta da falecida Madame St. Aubert, à vista da casa de pesca. Ambos o notaram, e pensaram em como ela se teria deleitado com a presente paisagem, ao mesmo tempo que sabiam que seus olhos nunca, nunca mais se abririam para este mundo. St. Aubert recordou a última vez em que visitara aquele lugar em companhia dela, e também os pensamentos tristemente pressagos que então lhe haviam surgido na mente e que agora, tão cedo, se realizavam! As recordações o dominaram, e ergueu-se bruscamente de seu assento e afastou-se para onde olho nenhum pudesse observar seu pesar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando voltou, seu rosto já estava calmo outra vez. Ele pegou a mão de Emily e a apertou com carinho, sem dizer nada. Depois chamou o condutor de mulas, que estava sentado um pouco mais adiante, e perguntou sobre uma estrada pelas montanhas em direção a Rousillon. Michael disse que havia várias estradas naquela direção, mas não sabia até onde iam nem se eram seguras. St. Aubert não queria viajar depois do pôr do sol, então perguntou a que vilarejo poderiam chegar até aquela hora. O condutor disse que podiam facilmente chegar a Mateau, que ficava na estrada em que estavam. Mas, se tomassem uma estrada mais ao sul em direção a Rousillon, havia um pequeno povoado que talvez pudessem alcançar antes de anoitecer.

Original English

When he returned, his countenance had recovered its usual serenity; he took Emily's hand, pressed it affectionately, without speaking, and soon after called to the muleteer, who sat at a little distance, concerning a road among the mountains towards Rousillon. Michael said, there were several that way, but he did not know how far they extended, or even whether they were passable; and St. Aubert, who did not intend to travel after sun-set, asked what village they could reach about that time. The muleteer calculated that they could easily reach Mateau, which was in their present road; but that, if they took a road that sloped more to the south, towards Rousillon, there was a hamlet, which he thought they could gain before the evening shut in.

Original Português

Quando voltou, seu semblante recuperara a serenidade habitual; tomou a mão de Emily, apertou-a afetuosamente, sem falar, e logo depois chamou o arrieiro, que estava sentado a pouca distância, para perguntar-lhe sobre uma estrada entre as montanhas rumo ao Rossilhão. Michael disse que havia várias por aquele lado, mas não sabia até onde se estendiam, nem mesmo se eram transitáveis; e St. Aubert, que não pretendia viajar depois do pôr do sol, perguntou que aldeia poderiam alcançar por volta dessa hora. O arrieiro calculou que poderiam facilmente chegar a Mateau, que ficava em sua estrada atual; mas que, se tomassem uma estrada que descia mais para o sul, rumo ao Rossilhão, havia um povoado que ele achava que poderiam alcançar antes de a noite fechar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de alguma hesitação, St. Aubert escolheu a segunda estrada. Michael terminou sua refeição, atrelou as mulas novamente e partiu. Logo parou, e St. Aubert o viu se curvando diante de uma cruz sobre uma rocha acima do caminho. Depois de rezar, ele estalou o chicote e seguiu em disparada, apesar da estrada acidentada e da dor de suas pobres mulas, das quais ele mesmo tinha acabado de sentir pena. Ele correu pela beira de um penhasco tão íngreme que deu tontura em Emily só de olhar para baixo. Ela ficou tão assustada que quase desmaiou. St. Aubert temia que parar o condutor de repente fosse ainda mais perigoso, então teve que ficar quieto e confiar nas mulas, cujo bom senso parecia melhor que o do dono. Elas levaram os viajantes em segurança até o vale e pararam perto do riacho que o regava.

Original English

St. Aubert, after some hesitation, determined to take the latter course, and Michael, having finished his meal, and harnessed his mules, again set forward, but soon stopped; and St. Aubert saw him doing homage to a cross, that stood on a rock impending over their way. Having concluded his devotions, he smacked his whip in the air, and, in spite of the rough road, and the pain of his poor mules, which he had been lately lamenting, rattled, in a full gallop, along the edge of a precipice, which it made the eye dizzy to look down. Emily was terrified almost to fainting; and St. Aubert, apprehending still greater danger from suddenly stopping the driver, was compelled to sit quietly, and trust his fate to the strength and discretion of the mules, who seemed to possess a greater portion of the latter quality than their master; for they carried the travellers safely into the valley, and there stopped upon the brink of the rivulet that watered it.

Original Português

St. Aubert, após alguma hesitação, resolveu tomar o segundo caminho, e Michael, tendo terminado sua refeição e atrelado as mulas, pôs-se novamente a caminho, mas logo parou; e St. Aubert viu-o prestar homenagem a uma cruz que se erguia sobre uma rocha suspensa sobre o caminho. Concluídas suas devoções, estalou o chicote no ar e, apesar da estrada acidentada e da dor de suas pobres mulas, de que havia pouco se lamentara, disparou a galope pela beira de um precipício cujo fundo dava vertigem só de olhar. Emily ficou aterrorizada quase a ponto de desmaiar; e St. Aubert, receando perigo ainda maior em deter subitamente o condutor, viu-se obrigado a permanecer quieto e a confiar seu destino à força e à discrição das mulas, que pareciam possuir maior porção desta última qualidade do que seu dono; pois levaram os viajantes em segurança até o vale, e ali pararam à margem do riacho que o regava.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Deixando para trás as vistas amplas, entraram agora em um vale estreito, escondido por

Rochas empilhadas sobre rochas como que por mágica, algumas queimadas por relâmpagos, outras cobertas de hera verde.

Original English

Leaving the splendour of extensive prospects, they now entered this narrow valley screened by

Rocks on rocks piled, as if by magic spell, Here scorch'd by lightnings, there with ivy green.

Original Português

Deixando o esplendor das vistas amplas, entravam agora naquele estreito vale resguardado por

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Original Português

Rochas sobre rochas amontoadas, como que por magia, Aqui crestadas por raios, ali de verde hera revestidas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A paisagem nua era quebrada aqui e ali por grandes galhos de larícios e cedros, que lançavam escuridão sobre o penhasco ou sobre a torrente no vale. Nenhuma criatura viva podia ser vista, exceto a camurça selvagem, que subia entre as rochas e muitas vezes ficava em pontos tão perigosos que até a imaginação recuava diante deles. Era o tipo de lugar que SALVATOR teria escolhido para uma pintura, se estivesse vivo. St. Aubert sentiu a beleza selvagem do lugar com tanta força que quase esperava ver bandidos saltarem de trás de alguma rocha. Ele manteve a mão sobre as armas que sempre carregava consigo.

Original English

The scene of barrenness was here and there interrupted by the spreading branches of the larch and cedar, which threw their gloom over the cliff, or athwart the torrent that rolled in the vale. No living creature appeared, except the izard, scrambling among the rocks, and often hanging upon points so dangerous, that fancy shrunk from the view of them. This was such a scene as SALVATOR would have chosen, had he then existed, for his canvas; St. Aubert, impressed by the romantic character of the place, almost expected to see banditti start from behind some projecting rock, and he kept his hand upon the arms with which he always travelled.

Original Português

A cena de aridez era interrompida aqui e ali pelos ramos espalhados do lariço e do cedro, que lançavam sua sombra sobre a escarpa, ou de través sobre a torrente que rolava no vale. Nenhuma criatura viva aparecia, exceto a camurça, a trepar entre as rochas, e amiúde suspensa em pontos tão perigosos que a imaginação recuava só de contemplá-los. Era esta uma cena que SALVATOR teria escolhido para sua tela, se então existisse; St. Aubert, impressionado pelo caráter romântico do lugar, quase esperava ver bandidos surgirem por trás de alguma rocha saliente, e mantinha a mão sobre as armas com que sempre viajava.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto seguiam, o vale foi se abrindo aos poucos. Seu aspecto selvagem tornou-se mais suave. Ao anoitecer, estavam entre montanhas cobertas de urze bem à frente. Ouviram o sino solitário de uma ovelha e o pastor chamando seu rebanho para o cercado noturno. A cabana dele estava parcialmente escondida por um sobreiro e uma azinheira. St. Aubert notou que essas árvores cresciam mais alto do que quaisquer outras, exceto o abeto. Era a única moradia humana que conseguiam ver. No fundo do vale, a grama era muito verde. Nas pequenas depressões entre as montanhas, sob carvalhos e castanheiras, o gado pastava. Muitos animais também descansavam perto do riacho, ou refrescavam o corpo na água e bebiam dela.

Original English

As they advanced, the valley opened; its savage features gradually softened, and, towards evening, they were among heathy mountains, stretched in far perspective, along which the solitary sheep-bell was heard, and the voice of the shepherd calling his wandering flocks to the nightly fold. His cabin, partly shadowed by the cork-tree and the ilex, which St. Aubert observed to flourish in higher regions of the air than any other trees, except the fir, was all the human habitation that yet appeared. Along the bottom of this valley the most vivid verdure was spread; and, in the little hollow recesses of the mountains, under the shade of the oak and chestnut, herds of cattle were grazing. Groups of them, too, were often seen reposing on the banks of the rivulet, or laving their sides in the cool stream, and sipping its wave.

Original Português

À medida que avançavam, o vale se abria; suas feições selvagens abrandavam-se aos poucos e, ao entardecer, achavam-se entre montanhas cobertas de urze, estendidas em ampla perspectiva, ao longo das quais se ouvia o solitário sino das ovelhas e a voz do pastor chamando seus rebanhos dispersos ao aprisco noturno. Sua cabana, em parte sombreada pelo sobreiro e pela azinheira, que St. Aubert observou medrarem em regiões mais altas do ar do que quaisquer outras árvores, exceto o abeto, era a única habitação humana que ainda aparecia. Pelo fundo daquele vale espraiava-se o mais vívido verdor; e, nos pequenos recessos das montanhas, à sombra do carvalho e do castanheiro, pastavam manadas de gado. Grupos deles também eram vistos amiúde repousando às margens do riacho, ou banhando os flancos na corrente fresca e sorvendo-lhe as águas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

O sol estava se pondo sobre o vale. Sua última luz brilhava na água e deixava as cores amarelas e roxas da urze e da giesta ainda mais vivas. St. Aubert perguntou a Michael quanto faltava para o povoado que ele havia mencionado, mas o homem não sabia dizer ao certo. Emily começou a temer que ele tivesse tomado a estrada errada. Não havia ninguém ali para ajudá-los ou guiá-los. Já haviam deixado o pastor e sua cabana bem para trás. A escuridão ia caindo, e eles já não conseguiam enxergar longe pelo vale para procurar uma casa ou um povoado. O céu a oeste ainda brilhava um pouco, e isso ajudava um pouco. Michael parecia tentar manter a coragem cantando. Mas sua canção era muito triste. Ele a cantava como se fosse um cântico, e St. Aubert por fim percebeu que era um hino noturno dedicado ao santo favorito de Michael.

Original English

The sun was now setting upon the valley; its last light gleamed upon the water, and heightened the rich yellow and purple tints of the heath and broom, that overspread the mountains. St. Aubert enquired of Michael the distance to the hamlet he had mentioned, but the man could not with certainty tell; and Emily began to fear that he had mistaken the road. Here was no human being to assist, or direct them; they had left the shepherd and his cabin far behind, and the scene became so obscured in twilight, that the eye could not follow the distant perspective of the valley in search of a cottage, or a hamlet. A glow of the horizon still marked the west, and this was of some little use to the travellers. Michael seemed endeavouring to keep up his courage by singing; his music, however, was not of a kind to disperse melancholy; he sung, in a sort of chant, one of the most dismal ditties his present auditors had ever heard, and St. Aubert at length discovered it to be a vesper-hymn to his favourite saint.

Original Português

O sol punha-se agora sobre o vale; sua última luz cintilava sobre a água e realçava os ricos tons amarelos e púrpura da urze e da giesta que recobriam as montanhas. St. Aubert perguntou a Michael a distância até o povoado que mencionara, mas o homem não soube dizer com certeza; e Emily começou a temer que ele houvesse errado o caminho. Não havia ali ser humano algum para socorrê-los ou orientá-los; haviam deixado o pastor e sua cabana muito para trás, e a cena tornou-se tão obscurecida no crepúsculo que o olho não podia acompanhar a distante perspectiva do vale em busca de uma choupana ou de um povoado. Um resplendor no horizonte ainda marcava o poente, e isso era de alguma pequena utilidade aos viajantes. Michael parecia esforçar-se por manter a coragem cantando; sua música, porém, não era do tipo que dispersa a melancolia; entoava, numa espécie de cantochão, uma das mais lúgubres cantilenas que seus atuais ouvintes já haviam escutado, e St. Aubert por fim descobriu tratar-se de um hino de vésperas a seu santo predileto.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Seguiram viagem na tristeza silenciosa que o crepúsculo e a solidão trazem. Michael havia terminado sua canção, e agora ouviam apenas o som suave da brisa na floresta e seu leve farfalhar ao entrar na carruagem. Por fim, foram sobressaltados pelo som de um tiro. St. Aubert pediu ao condutor que parasse, e ficaram escutando. O som não se repetiu. Pouco depois, ouviram um movimento nos arbustos. St. Aubert pegou uma pistola e disse a Michael para seguir o mais rápido possível. Não muito depois, uma corneta soou e ecoou pelas montanhas. St. Aubert olhou para fora de novo e viu um jovem saltar dos arbustos para a estrada, seguido por dois cães. O estranho usava roupas de caçador. Sua espingarda pendia sobre os ombros, sua corneta estava presa ao cinto, e ele carregava uma pequena lança na mão. Ele parecia forte e ágil, e se movia rapidamente.

Original English

They travelled on, sunk in that thoughtful melancholy, with which twilight and solitude impress the mind. Michael had now ended his ditty, and nothing was heard but the drowsy murmur of the breeze among the woods, and its light flutter, as it blew freshly into the carriage. They were at length roused by the sound of fire-arms. St. Aubert called to the muleteer to stop, and they listened. The noise was not repeated; but presently they heard a rustling among the brakes. St. Aubert drew forth a pistol, and ordered Michael to proceed as fast as possible; who had not long obeyed, before a horn sounded, that made the mountains ring. He looked again from the window, and then saw a young man spring from the bushes into the road, followed by a couple of dogs. The stranger was in a hunter's dress. His gun was slung across his shoulders, the hunter's horn hung from his belt, and in his hand was a small pike, which, as he held it, added to the manly grace of his figure, and assisted the agility of his steps.

Original Português

Prosseguiram viagem, mergulhados naquela pensativa melancolia com que o crepúsculo e a solidão impressionam a mente. Michael já encerrara sua cantilena, e nada se ouvia senão o sonolento murmúrio da brisa entre os bosques e seu leve frêmito ao soprar fresca para dentro da carruagem. Por fim, foram sobressaltados pelo som de armas de fogo. St. Aubert ordenou ao arrieiro que parasse, e escutaram. O ruído não se repetiu; mas logo ouviram um farfalhar entre a folhagem. St. Aubert sacou uma pistola e ordenou a Michael que seguisse o mais depressa possível; e não fazia muito que este obedecera quando soou uma trompa que fez ressoar as montanhas. St. Aubert olhou novamente pela janela e então viu um jovem saltar dos arbustos para a estrada, seguido por dois cães. O desconhecido trajava roupa de caçador. A espingarda pendia-lhe atravessada nos ombros, a trompa de caça pendia-lhe do cinto, e na mão levava uma pequena pica que, ao segurá-la, acrescentava graça viril à sua figura e favorecia a agilidade de seus passos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de uma breve hesitação, St. Aubert parou a carruagem outra vez e esperou o homem se aproximar, para perguntar sobre o povoado que procuravam. O estranho disse que ficava a apenas meia légua dali. Ele mesmo estava indo para lá e mostraria o caminho com prazer. St. Aubert agradeceu e, agradado pelo rosto franco e pelos modos nobres do rapaz, convidou-o a sentar-se na carruagem. O estranho recusou educadamente e disse que acompanharia as mulas a pé. Depois acrescentou: "Mas temo que encontrem pouco conforto por lá. As pessoas destas montanhas vivem de forma simples. Não têm os luxos da vida, e lhes falta quase até mesmo o que os outros consideram necessário."

Original English

After a moment's hesitation, St. Aubert again stopped the carriage, and waited till he came up, that they might enquire concerning the hamlet they were in search of. The stranger informed him, that it was only half a league distant, that he was going thither himself, and would readily shew the way. St. Aubert thanked him for the offer, and, pleased with his chevalier-like air and open countenance, asked him to take a seat in the carriage; which the stranger, with an acknowledgment, declined, adding that he would keep pace with the mules. 'But I fear you will be wretchedly accommodated,'said he: 'the inhabitants of these mountains are a simple people, who are not only without the luxuries of life, but almost destitute of what in other places are held to be its necessaries.'

Original Português

Após um instante de hesitação, St. Aubert deteve novamente a carruagem e esperou que ele se aproximasse, para que pudessem indagar sobre o povoado que procuravam. O desconhecido informou-lhe que ficava a apenas meia légua de distância, que ele próprio se dirigia para lá e mostraria de bom grado o caminho. St. Aubert agradeceu-lhe o oferecimento e, agradado com seu ar cavalheiresco e seu semblante franco, convidou-o a tomar assento na carruagem; o que o desconhecido, com um agradecimento, recusou, acrescentando que acompanharia o passo das mulas. 'Mas receio que sereis miseravelmente acomodados', disse ele: 'os habitantes destas montanhas são gente simples, que não só carece dos luxos da vida, mas está quase destituída daquilo que em outros lugares se tem por suas necessidades.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Vejo que o senhor não é uma das pessoas que vivem aqui", disse St. Aubert.

"Não, senhor. Sou apenas um viajante por aqui."

Original English

'I perceive you are not one of its inhabitants, sir,'said St. Aubert.

'No, sir, I am only a wanderer here.'

Original Português

'Percebo que não sois um de seus habitantes, senhor', disse St. Aubert.

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Original Português

'Não, senhor, sou apenas um viandante por aqui.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

A carruagem seguiu em frente, e a escuridão crescente fez os viajantes ficarem felizes por ter um guia. Os muitos vales entre as montanhas também tornavam o caminho mais difícil de seguir. Olhando para um desses vales, Emily viu algo distante que parecia uma nuvem brilhante no céu. "Que luz é aquela, senhor?" ela perguntou.

Original English

The carriage drove on, and the increasing dusk made the travellers very thankful that they had a guide; the frequent glens, too, that now opened among the mountains, would likewise have added to their perplexity. Emily, as she looked up one of these, saw something at a great distance like a bright cloud in the air. 'What light is yonder, sir?'said she.

Original Português

A carruagem seguiu adiante, e a crescente penumbra fez os viajantes muito gratos por terem um guia; os frequentes desfiladeiros, também, que agora se abriam entre as montanhas, teriam igualmente aumentado sua perplexidade. Emily, ao erguer os olhos por um deles, viu algo a grande distância, semelhante a uma nuvem brilhante no ar. 'Que luz é aquela ali, senhor?', perguntou ela.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert olhou e viu que era o topo nevado de uma montanha. Ela era muito mais alta do que as outras ao redor, por isso ainda captava os raios do sol, enquanto as montanhas mais baixas já estavam na sombra profunda.

Original English

St. Aubert looked, and perceived that it was the snowy summit of a mountain, so much higher than any around it, that it still reflected the sun's rays, while those below lay in deep shade.

Original Português

St. Aubert olhou e percebeu que era o cume nevado de uma montanha, tão mais alta do que todas ao redor que ainda refletia os raios do sol, enquanto as que ficavam abaixo jaziam em sombra profunda.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Por fim, luzes de um povoado começaram a brilhar através do crepúsculo. Logo depois, viram casas no vale. Na verdade, perceberam-nas primeiro pelo reflexo no riacho ao lado do qual ficavam, e a luz do entardecer ainda brilhava na água.

Original English

At length, the village lights were seen to twinkle through the dusk, and, soon after, some cottages were discovered in the valley, or rather were seen by reflection in the stream, on whose margin they stood, and which still gleamed with the evening light.

Original Português

Por fim, viram-se as luzes da aldeia cintilar através da penumbra e, logo depois, descobriram-se algumas choupanas no vale, ou antes, foram vistas por reflexo no riacho a cuja margem se erguiam, e que ainda reluzia com a luz do entardecer.

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B1 Português (simplified)

O estranho se aproximou deles, e depois de fazer mais perguntas, St. Aubert soube que não havia apenas nenhuma pousada no povoado, mas nenhum estabelecimento público de espécie alguma. Ainda assim, o estranho se ofereceu para ir na frente e pedir uma casa onde pudessem ficar. St. Aubert agradeceu novamente. Como o povoado estava tão perto, disse que desceria e caminharia com ele. Emily seguiu devagar na carruagem.

Original English

The stranger now came up, and St. Aubert, on further enquiry, found not only that there was no inn in the place, but not any sort of house of public reception. The stranger, however, offered to walk on, and enquire for a cottage to accommodate them; for which further civility St. Aubert returned his thanks, and said, that, as the village was so near, he would alight, and walk with him. Emily followed slowly in the carriage.

Original Português

O desconhecido aproximou-se então, e St. Aubert, indagando mais, descobriu não só que não havia estalagem no lugar, mas tampouco qualquer espécie de casa de acolhimento público. O desconhecido, contudo, ofereceu-se para adiantar-se e procurar uma cabana que os acomodasse; por essa nova gentileza St. Aubert lhe rendeu agradecimentos e disse que, estando a aldeia tão próxima, apearia e caminharia com ele. Emily seguiu lentamente na carruagem.

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B1 Português (simplified)

No caminho, St. Aubert perguntou ao companheiro sobre seu sucesso na caçada. "Não muito, senhor", ele respondeu. "Não é isso que eu busco. Gosto do campo e quero passar algumas semanas caminhando por suas paisagens. Levo meus cães por companhia, não para caçar. Além disso, essas roupas me dão um motivo para estar aqui e fazem as pessoas me respeitarem. Um estranho solitário sem motivo aparente não receberia esse respeito."

Original English

On the way, St. Aubert asked his companion what success he had had in the chase. 'Not much, sir,'he replied, 'nor do I aim at it. I am pleased with the country, and mean to saunter away a few weeks among its scenes. My dogs I take with me more for companionship than for game. This dress, too, gives me an ostensible business, and procures me that respect from the people, which would, perhaps, be refused to a lonely stranger, who had no visible motive for coming among them.'

Original Português

Pelo caminho, St. Aubert perguntou a seu companheiro que sorte tivera na caça. 'Não muita, senhor', respondeu ele, 'nem é isso o que busco. Agrada-me esta região, e pretendo passear algumas semanas por seus cenários. Trago meus cães comigo mais por companhia do que pela caça. Este traje, também, dá-me uma ocupação aparente e me granjeia dos habitantes aquele respeito que talvez fosse negado a um forasteiro solitário sem motivo visível para vir entre eles.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert disse: "Admiro seu gosto. Se eu fosse mais jovem, adoraria passar algumas semanas como o senhor. Eu também sou um viajante, mas meu plano e meus interesses são diferentes. Viajo tanto pela saúde quanto pelo prazer." Ele suspirou e fez uma pausa, depois continuou: "Se eu encontrar uma boa estrada com lugares decentes para ficar, pretendo ir até Rousillon e seguir pela costa até Languedoc. O senhor parece conhecer bem esta região. Pode me dar informações?"

Original English

'I admire your taste,'said St. Aubert, 'and, if I was a younger man, should like to pass a few weeks in your way exceedingly. I, too, am a wanderer, but neither my plan nor pursuits are exactly like yours - I go in search of health, as much as of amusement.'St. Aubert sighed, and paused; and then, seeming to recollect himself, he resumed: 'If I can hear of a tolerable road, that shall afford decent accommodation, it is my intention to pass into Rousillon, and along the sea-shore to Languedoc. You, sir, seem to be acquainted with the country, and can, perhaps, give me information on the subject.'

Original Português

'Admiro vosso gosto', disse St. Aubert, 'e, se eu fosse mais moço, gostaria imensamente de passar algumas semanas à vossa maneira. Também eu sou um viandante, mas nem meu plano nem meus intentos são exatamente como os vossos - vou em busca de saúde, tanto quanto de distração.' St. Aubert suspirou e fez uma pausa; e então, parecendo recompor-se, prosseguiu: 'Se eu puder ter notícia de uma estrada tolerável, que ofereça acomodações decentes, é minha intenção passar ao Rossilhão e, ao longo da costa, até o Languedoc. Vós, senhor, pareceis conhecer a região e talvez possais dar-me informações a respeito.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

O estranho disse que ficava feliz em ajudar. Em seguida, contou a St. Aubert sobre uma estrada mais a leste que levava a uma cidade. De lá, seria fácil continuar até Rousillon.

Original English

The stranger said, that what information he could give was entirely at his service; and then mentioned a road rather more to the east, which led to a town, whence it would be easy to proceed into Rousillon.

Original Português

O desconhecido disse que toda a informação que pudesse dar estava inteiramente ao seu dispor; e então mencionou uma estrada um pouco mais para leste, que conduzia a uma cidade de onde seria fácil prosseguir para o Rossilhão.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Chegaram ao povoado e começaram a procurar uma casa onde pudessem passar a noite. Em várias casas onde entraram, encontraram pessoas pobres que pareciam ao mesmo tempo alegres e ignorantes. Os donos olhavam para St. Aubert com curiosidade e medo. Não conseguiam encontrar uma cama, e ele já quase tinha desistido de perguntar quando Emily se aproximou dele. Ela viu como seu pai parecia cansado e lamentou que ele tivesse escolhido uma estrada com tão poucos confortos para um homem doente. Outras casas eram um pouco melhores, mas ainda muito rústicas. Tinham apenas dois cômodos, se é que podiam ser chamados de cômodos. Em um ficavam as mulas e os porcos. No outro morava a família, muitas vezes seis ou oito filhos com os pais, dormindo sobre peles e folhas secas de faia num chão de barro batido. A luz e a fumaça entravam por um buraco no teto, e o cheiro de aguardente costumava pairar no ar, porque os contrabandistas haviam ensinado aquela gente a beber. Emily desviou o olhar dessas cenas e olhou para o pai com preocupação e amor. O jovem estranho percebeu isso. Ele chamou St. Aubert de lado e ofereceu-lhe sua própria cama. Disse que era decente em comparação com o que tinham acabado de ver, embora em outras circunstâncias tivesse vergonha de oferecê-la. St. Aubert agradeceu calorosamente, mas recusou a princípio. O estranho não aceitou a recusa. Implorou que ele não deixasse um homem doente dormir sobre peles duras enquanto ele mesmo dormia em uma cama. Disse também que a recusa feria seu orgulho, pois o fazia pensar que sua oferta não era boa o suficiente. Ofereceu-se para mostrar o caminho e disse que sua anfitriã certamente poderia arranjar lugar também para Emily.

Original English

They now arrived at the village, and commenced their search for a cottage, that would afford a night's lodging. In several, which they entered, ignorance, poverty, and mirth seemed equally to prevail; and the owners eyed St. Aubert with a mixture of curiosity and timidity. Nothing like a bed could be found, and he had ceased to enquire for one, when Emily joined him, who observed the languor of her father's countenance, and lamented, that he had taken a road so ill provided with the comforts necessary for an invalid. Other cottages, which they examined, seemed somewhat less savage than the former, consisting of two rooms, if such they could be called; the first of these occupied by mules and pigs, the second by the family, which generally consisted of six or eight children, with their parents, who slept on beds of skins and dried beech leaves, spread upon a mud floor. Here, light was admitted, and smoke discharged, through an aperture in the roof; and here the scent of spirits (for the travelling smugglers, who haunted the Pyrenees, had made this rude people familiar with the use of liquors) was generally perceptible enough. Emily turned from such scenes, and looked at her father with anxious tenderness, which the young stranger seemed to observe; for, drawing St. Aubert aside, he made him an offer of his own bed. 'It is a decent one,'said he, 'when compared with what we have just seen, yet such as in other circumstances I should be ashamed to offer you.'St. Aubert acknowledged how much he felt himself obliged by this kindness, but refused to accept it, till the young stranger would take no denial. 'Do not give me the pain of knowing, sir,'said he, 'that an invalid, like you, lies on hard skins, while I sleep in a bed. Besides, sir, your refusal wounds my pride; I must believe you think my offer unworthy your acceptance. Let me shew you the way. I have no doubt my landlady can accommodate this young lady also.'

Original Português

Chegaram então à aldeia e iniciaram sua busca por uma cabana que lhes oferecesse abrigo por uma noite. Em várias em que entraram, a ignorância, a pobreza e a jovialidade pareciam prevalecer por igual; e os donos fitavam St. Aubert com uma mistura de curiosidade e timidez. Nada que se assemelhasse a uma cama pôde ser encontrado, e ele já cessara de indagar por uma quando Emily se juntou a ele; esta, observando o abatimento no semblante do pai, lamentou que ele houvesse tomado uma estrada tão mal provida das comodidades necessárias a um enfermo. Outras cabanas que examinaram pareciam algo menos rudes do que as anteriores, compondo-se de dois cômodos, se assim se podiam chamar; o primeiro deles ocupado por mulas e porcos, o segundo pela família, que em geral se compunha de seis ou oito crianças, com seus pais, que dormiam em camas de peles e folhas secas de faia, estendidas sobre um chão de barro. Ali, a luz entrava, e a fumaça se escoava, por uma abertura no teto; e ali o cheiro de aguardente (pois os contrabandistas viajantes, que assombravam os Pireneus, haviam familiarizado essa gente rude com o uso de bebidas) era em geral bastante perceptível. Emily desviava-se de tais cenas e olhava para o pai com ansiosa ternura, o que o jovem desconhecido pareceu notar; pois, chamando St. Aubert à parte, ofereceu-lhe sua própria cama. 'É uma cama decente', disse ele, 'quando comparada com o que acabamos de ver, mas de tal sorte que, em outras circunstâncias, eu me envergonharia de vo-la oferecer.' St. Aubert reconheceu quão obrigado se sentia por essa bondade, mas recusou aceitá-la, até que o jovem desconhecido não admitiu recusa alguma. 'Não me deis a dor de saber, senhor', disse ele, 'que um enfermo como vós repouse sobre peles duras, enquanto eu durmo numa cama. Além disso, senhor, vossa recusa fere meu orgulho; hei de crer que julgais minha oferta indigna de vossa aceitação. Permiti que vos mostre o caminho. Não tenho dúvida de que minha senhoria poderá acomodar também esta jovem dama.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Por fim, St. Aubert concordou em aceitar a gentileza do estranho, se isso pudesse ser arranjado. Ficou surpreso, no entanto, que o estranho parecesse tão pouco romântico, já que havia oferecido o quarto a um homem doente em vez de a uma bela jovem. Ele não tinha oferecido nem uma vez para Emily. Mas Emily não pensava em si mesma. Seu sorriso radiante mostrava o quanto estava grata por seu pai ter sido escolhido primeiro.

Original English

St. Aubert at length consented, that, if this could be done, he would accept his kindness, though he felt rather surprised, that the stranger had proved himself so deficient in gallantry, as to administer to the repose of an infirm man, rather than to that of a very lovely young woman, for he had not once offered the room for Emily. But she thought not of herself, and the animated smile she gave him, told how much she felt herself obliged for the preference of her father.

Original Português

St. Aubert por fim consentiu que, se isso pudesse ser feito, aceitaria sua bondade, embora se sentisse um tanto surpreso de que o desconhecido se houvesse mostrado tão desprovido de galanteria a ponto de zelar pelo repouso de um homem enfermo, em vez do de uma jovem tão encantadora, pois nem uma só vez oferecera o quarto para Emily. Mas ela não pensava em si mesma, e o sorriso animado que lhe dirigiu revelou o quanto se sentia grata pela preferência dada ao pai.

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B1 Português (simplified)

No caminho, o estranho, cujo nome era Valancourt, foi na frente falar com a anfitriã. Ela saiu e recebeu St. Aubert em uma casa muito melhor do que qualquer outra que ele tinha visto. A gentil mulher ficou feliz em hospedar os viajantes, e logo tiveram que ocupar as duas únicas camas do lugar. Ovos e leite eram a única comida que ela tinha, mas St. Aubert havia trazido outros alimentos para casos assim. Ele convidou Valancourt para ficar e compartilhar com ele uma refeição melhor, e Valancourt aceitou na hora. Passaram então uma hora em uma conversa pensativa. St. Aubert ficou muito satisfeito com a honestidade franca de Valancourt, seus modos simples e seu forte sentimento pela beleza da natureza. Ele costumava dizer que o verdadeiro amor pela natureza não podia existir com força sem um coração simples.

Original English

On their way, the stranger, whose name was Valancourt, stepped on first to speak to his hostess, and she came out to welcome St. Aubert into a cottage, much superior to any he had seen. This good woman seemed very willing to accommodate the strangers, who were soon compelled to accept the only two beds in the place. Eggs and milk were the only food the cottage afforded; but against scarcity of provisions St. Aubert had provided, and he requested Valancourt to stay, and partake with him of less homely fare; an invitation, which was readily accepted, and they passed an hour in intelligent conversation. St. Aubert was much pleased with the manly frankness, simplicity, and keen susceptibility to the grandeur of nature, which his new acquaintance discovered; and, indeed, he had often been heard to say, that, without a certain simplicity of heart, this taste could not exist in any strong degree.

Original Português

A caminho, o desconhecido, cujo nome era Valancourt, adiantou-se primeiro para falar com sua hospedeira, e ela saiu a dar as boas-vindas a St. Aubert numa cabana muito superior a qualquer que ele houvesse visto. Essa boa mulher pareceu muito disposta a acomodar os forasteiros, que logo se viram compelidos a aceitar as duas únicas camas do lugar. Ovos e leite eram o único alimento que a cabana oferecia; mas contra a escassez de mantimentos St. Aubert se precavera, e pediu a Valancourt que ficasse e partilhasse com ele de comida menos rústica; convite que foi prontamente aceito, e passaram uma hora em conversa inteligente. St. Aubert ficou muito agradado com a franqueza viril, a simplicidade e a viva sensibilidade à grandeza da natureza que seu novo conhecido revelava; e, de fato, já se lhe ouvira dizer amiúde que, sem certa simplicidade de coração, esse gosto não poderia existir em grau algum acentuado.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A conversa foi interrompida por uma briga barulhenta lá fora, e a voz do condutor de mulas se destacava acima das outras. Valancourt se levantou de um salto e foi ver o que estava acontecendo, mas a discussão durou tanto que o próprio St. Aubert saiu para ver. Encontrou Michael discutindo com a anfitriã porque ela tinha se recusado a deixar as mulas dele dormirem em um quartinho onde ele e três dos filhos dela passariam a noite. O quarto era muito pobre, mas não havia outro lugar para dormirem. Mesmo assim, a mulher se recusava a deixar os animais dividirem o mesmo quarto com seus filhos. Isso ofendeu profundamente o condutor de mulas. Ele sentiu que sua honra tinha sido ferida, porque suas mulas não estavam sendo tratadas com respeito. Disse que seus animais eram tão honestos e bons quanto quaisquer outros da província e tinham direito a bom tratamento onde quer que fossem. Disse que eram inofensivos como cordeiros, a menos que alguém os insultasse. Contou que só se comportaram mal uma ou duas vezes em toda a sua vida, e mesmo assim tinham bons motivos. Uma vez tinham dado um coice em um menino que dormia no estábulo e quebrado sua perna. Ele lhes disse que estavam errados e, por Santo Antônio, acreditava que tinham entendido, porque nunca mais fizeram aquilo.

Original English

The conversation was interrupted by a violent uproar without, in which the voice of the muleteer was heard above every other sound. Valancourt started from his seat, and went to enquire the occasion; but the dispute continued so long afterwards, that St. Aubert went himself, and found Michael quarrelling with the hostess, because she had refused to let his mules lie in a little room where he and three of her sons were to pass the night. The place was wretched enough, but there was no other for these people to sleep in; and, with somewhat more of delicacy than was usual among the inhabitants of this wild tract of country, she persisted in refusing to let the animals have the same BED-CHAMBER with her children. This was a tender point with the muleteer; his honour was wounded when his mules were treated with disrespect, and he would have received a blow, perhaps, with more meekness. He declared that his beasts were as honest beasts, and as good beasts, as any in the whole province; and that they had a right to be well treated wherever they went. 'They are as harmless as lambs,'said he, 'if people don't affront them. I never knew them behave themselves amiss above once or twice in my life, and then they had good reason for doing so. Once, indeed, they kicked at a boy's leg that lay asleep in the stable, and broke it; but I told them they were out there, and by St. Anthony! I believe they understood me, for they never did so again.'

Original Português

A conversa foi interrompida por um violento alvoroço lá fora, no qual a voz do arrieiro se ouvia acima de qualquer outro som. Valancourt ergueu-se de seu assento e foi indagar o motivo; mas a disputa continuou por tanto tempo depois que o próprio St. Aubert foi ver, e encontrou Michael a discutir com a hospedeira, porque ela se recusara a deixar que suas mulas se deitassem num pequeno cômodo onde ele e três dos filhos dela iriam passar a noite. O lugar era bastante miserável, mas não havia outro em que essa gente pudesse dormir; e, com um pouco mais de melindre do que era usual entre os habitantes daquela agreste região, ela persistia em recusar que os animais tivessem o mesmo DORMITÓRIO que seus filhos. Este era um ponto delicado para o arrieiro; sua honra ficava ferida quando suas mulas eram tratadas com desrespeito, e talvez recebesse um golpe com mais mansidão. Declarou que suas bestas eram bestas tão honestas, e tão boas bestas, quanto quaisquer outras de toda a província; e que tinham direito a ser bem tratadas onde quer que fossem. 'São inofensivas como cordeiros', disse ele, 'se as pessoas não as ofendem. Nunca as vi comportar-se mal senão uma ou duas vezes na vida, e então tiveram boa razão para isso. Uma vez, é verdade, escoicearam a perna de um menino que dormia no estábulo e a quebraram; mas eu lhes disse que haviam errado, e, por Santo Antônio! creio que me entenderam, pois nunca mais o fizeram.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ele encerrou seu longo discurso dizendo que suas mulas deveriam dividir o abrigo com ele onde quer que fosse.

Original English

He concluded this eloquent harangue with protesting, that they should share with him, go where he would.

Original Português

Concluiu essa eloquente arenga protestando que elas partilhariam com ele, fosse para onde fosse.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Por fim, Valancourt resolveu a discussão. Ele chamou a anfitriã de lado e pediu que deixasse o condutor de mulas e seus animais ficarem sozinhos no quarto. Disse que os filhos dela poderiam usar a cama de peles destinada a ele, e que ele se enrolaria em sua capa e dormiria no banco perto da porta da casa. Ela quis recusar, tanto porque achava que era seu dever quanto porque não gostava do condutor de mulas. Mas Valancourt manteve-se firme, e no fim aquele assunto cansativo foi resolvido.

Original English

The dispute was at length settled by Valancourt, who drew the hostess aside, and desired she would let the muleteer and his beasts have the place in question to themselves, while her sons should have the bed of skins designed for him, for that he would wrap himself in his cloak, and sleep on the bench by the cottage door. But this she thought it her duty to oppose, and she felt it to be her inclination to disappoint the muleteer. Valancourt, however, was positive, and the tedious affair was at length settled.

Original Português

A disputa foi por fim resolvida por Valancourt, que chamou a hospedeira à parte e pediu-lhe que deixasse o arrieiro e suas bestas terem o cômodo em questão só para si, enquanto seus filhos teriam a cama de peles destinada a ele, pois ele se enrolaria em sua capa e dormiria no banco junto à porta da cabana. Mas isso ela julgou seu dever opor-se, e sentia ser de sua inclinação contrariar o arrieiro. Valancourt, contudo, mostrou-se firme, e o enfadonho caso ficou por fim resolvido.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Já era tarde quando St. Aubert e Emily foram para seus quartos, e Valancourt ocupou seu lugar junto à porta. Com o tempo ameno, ele preferia isso a uma cabana fechada e uma cama de peles. St. Aubert ficou surpreso ao encontrar livros de Homero, Horácio e Petrarca em seu quarto. O nome Valancourt escrito neles mostrava que eram dele.

Original English

It was late when St. Aubert and Emily retired to their rooms, and Valancourt to his station at the door, which, at this mild season, he preferred to a close cabin and a bed of skins. St. Aubert was somewhat surprised to find in his room volumes of Homer, Horace, and Petrarch; but the name of Valancourt, written in them, told him to whom they belonged.

Original Português

Era tarde quando St. Aubert e Emily se recolheram a seus quartos, e Valancourt a seu posto junto à porta, que, naquela estação amena, ele preferia a uma cabana fechada e a uma cama de peles. St. Aubert ficou um tanto surpreso ao encontrar em seu quarto volumes de Homero, Horácio e Petrarca; mas o nome de Valancourt, neles escrito, revelou-lhe a quem pertenciam.

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Chapter IV

B1 Português (simplified)

Ele era uma pessoa estranha e mutável. Gostava tanto de cenas suaves quanto de cenas assustadoras. Apreciava a escuridão e as tempestades. Também gostava dos mares calmos sob o sol. As mudanças tristes o divertiam. Se vinha um suspiro ou uma lágrima, era tão doce que ele não queria contê-lo. O MENESTREL

Original English

In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene, In darkness, and in storm he found delight; Nor less than when on ocean-wave serene The southern sun diffus'd his dazzling sheen. Even sad vicissitude amus'd his soul; And if a sigh would sometimes intervene, And down his cheek a tear of pity roll, A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wish'd not to controul. THE MINSTREL

Original Português

Na verdade, era ele um ser estranho e caprichoso, Afeito a cada cena branda e a cada cena terrível, Nas trevas e na tempestade encontrava deleite; Não menos do que quando, sobre a onda serena do oceano, O sol do sul difundia seu fulgor deslumbrante. Até a triste vicissitude divertia-lhe a alma; E, se às vezes um suspiro se interpunha, E pela face lhe rolava uma lágrima de piedade, Um suspiro, uma lágrima tão doces, que não desejava reprimir. O MENESTREL

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert acordou cedo, sentindo-se descansado e pronto para seguir viagem. Convidou o estranho para tomar café da manhã com ele. Voltaram a falar sobre a estrada. Valancourt disse que, alguns meses antes, tinha ido até Beaujeu, uma cidade bastante importante no caminho para Rousillon. Ele aconselhou St. Aubert a seguir essa rota, e St. Aubert decidiu fazer isso.

Original English

St. Aubert awoke at an early hour, refreshed by sleep, and desirous to set forward. He invited the stranger to breakfast with him; and, talking again of the road, Valancourt said, that, some months past, he had travelled as far as Beaujeu, which was a town of some consequence on the way to Rousillon. He recommended it to St. Aubert to take that route, and the latter determined to do so.

Original Português

St. Aubert despertou em hora matutina, revigorado pelo sono e desejoso de partir. Convidou o desconhecido para tomar o desjejum com ele; e, falando novamente da estrada, Valancourt disse que, alguns meses antes, viajara até Beaujeu, que era uma cidade de certa importância no caminho para o Rossilhão. Recomendou a St. Aubert que tomasse aquela rota, e este resolveu fazê-lo.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Valancourt disse: "A estrada que sai deste povoado e a estrada para Beaujeu se separam a cerca de uma légua e meia daqui. Se me permitir, guiarei seu condutor até lá. Preciso caminhar para algum lugar mesmo, e a companhia de vocês tornaria essa caminhada mais agradável do que qualquer outra que eu pudesse fazer."

Original English

'The road from this hamlet,'said Valancourt, 'and that to Beaujeu, part at the distance of about a league and a half from hence; if you will give me leave, I will direct your muleteer so far. I must wander somewhere, and your company would make this a pleasanter ramble than any other I could take.'

Original Português

'A estrada que parte deste povoado', disse Valancourt, 'e a que leva a Beaujeu separam-se à distância de cerca de légua e meia daqui; se me permitirdes, guiarei vosso arrieiro até lá. Hei de vaguear por algum lugar, e vossa companhia tornaria este passeio mais agradável do que qualquer outro que eu pudesse fazer.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert agradeceu e aceitou. Partiram juntos, com o jovem estranho caminhando a pé, pois recusou o convite de St. Aubert para andar na pequena carruagem.

Original English

St. Aubert thankfully accepted his offer, and they set out together, the young stranger on foot, for he refused the invitation of St. Aubert to take a seat in his little carriage.

Original Português

St. Aubert aceitou agradecido seu oferecimento, e partiram juntos, o jovem desconhecido a pé, pois recusou o convite de St. Aubert para tomar assento em sua pequena carruagem.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A estrada serpenteava ao pé das montanhas, atravessando um vale tranquilo cheio de plantas verdes. Era um lugar bonito, com pequenos grupos de carvalhos, faias e plátanos, sob cujos galhos o gado descansava. Sorveiras e bétulas-chorão também espalhavam suas folhas pendentes pelas encostas acima, onde o solo fino mal cobria suas raízes e seus galhos leves se moviam a cada brisa da montanha.

Original English

The road wound along the feet of the mountains through a pastoral valley, bright with verdure, and varied with groves of dwarf oak, beech and sycamore, under whose branches herds of cattle reposed. The mountain-ash too, and the weeping birch, often threw their pendant foliage over the steeps above, where the scanty soil scarcely concealed their roots, and where their light branches waved to every breeze that fluttered from the mountains.

Original Português

A estrada serpenteava ao pé das montanhas por um vale pastoril, luminoso de verdor e variado por bosques de carvalho anão, faia e sicômoro, sob cujos ramos repousavam manadas de gado. A sorveira-brava, também, e a bétula-chorona lançavam amiúde sua folhagem pendente sobre as encostas acima, onde o solo escasso mal ocultava suas raízes, e onde seus ramos leves ondulavam a cada brisa que fremia vinda das montanhas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Os viajantes encontravam com frequência pastores àquela hora tão cedo, antes de o sol nascer sobre o vale, conduzindo grandes rebanhos para fora dos currais, a fim de pastarem nas colinas. St. Aubert tinha partido tão cedo não só para ver o nascer do sol, mas também para respirar o ar fresco da manhã, que faz muito bem a uma pessoa doente. Isso era ainda mais verdadeiro naqueles lugares, onde muitas flores silvestres e ervas perfumadas enchiam o ar com seu aroma.

Original English

The travellers were frequently met at this early hour, for the sun had not yet risen upon the valley, by shepherds driving immense flocks from their folds to feed upon the hills. St. Aubert had set out thus early, not only that he might enjoy the first appearance of sunrise, but that he might inhale the first pure breath of morning, which above all things is refreshing to the spirits of the invalid. In these regions it was particularly so, where an abundance of wild flowers and aromatic herbs breathed forth their essence on the air.

Original Português

Os viajantes eram frequentemente encontrados a essa hora matutina, pois o sol ainda não se erguera sobre o vale, por pastores que conduziam imensos rebanhos de seus apriscos a pastar pelas colinas. St. Aubert partira assim tão cedo, não só para desfrutar do primeiro despontar do sol, mas também para inalar o primeiro hálito puro da manhã, que acima de tudo é revigorante para o ânimo do enfermo. Nessas regiões era-o particularmente, onde uma abundância de flores silvestres e ervas aromáticas exalava sua essência no ar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

O amanhecer havia suavizado a paisagem com sua luz cinzenta, mas agora essa luz desaparecia. Emily observou o dia começar, primeiro tremeluzindo nos topos dos penhascos mais altos, depois brilhando forte sobre eles, enquanto as encostas e o vale abaixo ainda estavam cobertos de névoa. As nuvens a leste mudavam de um cinza opaco para o vermelho, depois para um brilho intenso, até que uma luz dourada se espalhou pelo ar, tocou as encostas mais baixas das montanhas e caiu em longos feixes inclinados sobre o vale e seu riacho. Parecia que toda a natureza tinha voltado à vida. St. Aubert se sentiu renovado. Seu coração estava cheio, ele chorou, e seus pensamentos se elevaram até o Grande Criador.

Original English

The dawn, which softened the scenery with its peculiar grey tint, now dispersed, and Emily watched the progress of the day, first trembling on the tops of the highest cliffs, then touching them with splendid light, while their sides and the vale below were still wrapt in dewy mist. Meanwhile, the sullen grey of the eastern clouds began to blush, then to redden, and then to glow with a thousand colours, till the golden light darted over all the air, touched the lower points of the mountain's brow, and glanced in long sloping beams upon the valley and its stream. All nature seemed to have awakened from death into life; the spirit of St. Aubert was renovated. His heart was full; he wept, and his thoughts ascended to the Great Creator.

Original Português

A alvorada, que suavizava o cenário com seu peculiar tom acinzentado, dissipou-se agora, e Emily observou o avanço do dia, primeiro a tremular nos cimos das mais altas escarpas, depois tocando-as com luz esplêndida, enquanto seus flancos e o vale abaixo ainda se envolviam em névoa orvalhada. Nesse ínterim, o cinza soturno das nuvens do oriente começou a ruborizar-se, depois a avermelhar-se, e então a resplandecer com mil cores, até que a luz dourada se lançou por todo o ar, tocou os pontos mais baixos da fronte da montanha e reluziu em longos raios oblíquos sobre o vale e seu riacho. Toda a natureza parecia ter despertado da morte para a vida; o espírito de St. Aubert renovou-se. Seu coração transbordava; chorou, e seus pensamentos ascenderam ao Grande Criador.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily queria correr pela grama, tão verde e brilhante de orvalho, e sentir a mesma liberdade que a camurça parecia sentir ao saltar pela beira do penhasco. Valancourt parava com frequência para conversar com os viajantes e apontar as coisas que admirava. St. Aubert gostava dele e pensava: "Esta é a verdadeira franqueza e o verdadeiro fogo da juventude. Este rapaz nunca esteve em Paris."

Original English

Emily wished to trip along the turf, so green and bright with dew, and to taste the full delight of that liberty, which the izard seemed to enjoy as he bounded along the brow of the cliffs; while Valancourt often stopped to speak with the travellers, and with social feeling to point out to them the peculiar objects of his admiration. St. Aubert was pleased with him: 'Here is the real ingenuousness and ardour of youth,'said he to himself; 'this young man has never been at Paris.'

Original Português

Emily desejava correr sobre a relva, tão verde e brilhante de orvalho, e saborear todo o deleite daquela liberdade de que a camurça parecia gozar ao saltar pela crista das escarpas; enquanto Valancourt parava amiúde para conversar com os viajantes e, com sentimento afável, apontar-lhes os objetos peculiares de sua admiração. St. Aubert estava agradado com ele: 'Eis aqui a verdadeira ingenuidade e o ardor da juventude', dizia consigo; 'este jovem nunca esteve em Paris.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert ficou triste quando chegaram ao lugar onde as estradas se separavam. Depois de um encontro tão breve, ele sentia por Valancourt um carinho maior do que o normal. Valancourt conversou por muito tempo ao lado da carruagem. Mais de uma vez pareceu prestes a partir, mas continuava ali, como se procurasse mais alguma coisa para dizer, a fim de demorar um pouco mais. Por fim, despediu-se. Ao se afastar, St. Aubert o viu olhar para Emily de forma séria e triste. Ela fez uma reverência para ele, com uma expressão tímida e doce, enquanto a carruagem seguia. Pouco depois, St. Aubert olhou pela janela e viu Valancourt parado à beira da estrada, apoiado em sua lança, com os braços cruzados, observando a carruagem. St. Aubert acenou. Valancourt pareceu despertar de seus pensamentos, retribuiu o cumprimento e se afastou depressa.

Original English

He was sorry when they came to the spot where the roads parted, and his heart took a more affectionate leave of him than is usual after so short an acquaintance. Valancourt talked long by the side of the carriage; seemed more than once to be going, but still lingered, and appeared to search anxiously for topics of conversation to account for his delay. At length he took leave. As he went, St. Aubert observed him look with an earnest and pensive eye at Emily, who bowed to him with a countenance full of timid sweetness, while the carriage drove on. St. Aubert, for whatever reason, soon after looked from the window, and saw Valancourt standing upon the bank of the road, resting on his pike with folded arms, and following the carriage with his eyes. He waved his hand, and Valancourt, seeming to awake from his reverie, returned the salute, and started away.

Original Português

Ficou pesaroso quando chegaram ao ponto em que as estradas se separavam, e seu coração despediu-se dele com mais afeto do que é usual após tão breve convívio. Valancourt conversou longamente ao lado da carruagem; pareceu mais de uma vez estar a partir, mas ainda assim se demorava, e dava mostras de buscar ansiosamente assuntos de conversa que justificassem sua demora. Por fim, despediu-se. Ao afastar-se, St. Aubert observou-o lançar um olhar fervoroso e pensativo a Emily, que se inclinou para ele com um semblante cheio de tímida doçura, enquanto a carruagem seguia adiante. St. Aubert, por qualquer razão que fosse, olhou logo depois pela janela e viu Valancourt de pé na margem da estrada, apoiado em sua pica, de braços cruzados, e a acompanhar a carruagem com os olhos. Acenou-lhe com a mão, e Valancourt, parecendo despertar de seu devaneio, retribuiu a saudação e partiu apressado.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A paisagem começou a mudar. Logo os viajantes estavam entre montanhas cobertas quase da base ao topo por escuras florestas de pinheiros, exceto onde uma rocha de granito se erguia do vale e perdia seu topo nevado entre as nuvens. O riacho que os tinha acompanhado até então se transformou em um rio, que corria fundo e silencioso, refletindo as sombras escuras acima como um espelho. De vez em quando, um penhasco se erguia ousadamente acima da floresta e da névoa que pairava na metade das montanhas. Em outros momentos, uma parede íngreme de mármore se erguia da água, e sobre ela o larício espalhava seus enormes galhos, às vezes marcados por relâmpagos, às vezes cheios de folhas densas.

Original English

The aspect of the country now began to change, and the travellers soon found themselves among mountains covered from their base nearly to their summits with forests of gloomy pine, except where a rock of granite shot up from the vale, and lost its snowy top in the clouds. The rivulet, which had hitherto accompanied them, now expanded into a river; and, flowing deeply and silently along, reflected, as in a mirror, the blackness of the impending shades. Sometimes a cliff was seen lifting its bold head above the woods and the vapours, that floated mid-way down the mountains; and sometimes a face of perpendicular marble rose from the water's edge, over which the larch threw his gigantic arms, here scathed with lightning, and there floating in luxuriant foliage.

Original Português

O aspecto da região começou então a mudar, e os viajantes logo se acharam entre montanhas cobertas, desde a base quase até os cumes, por florestas de sombrio pinheiro, exceto onde uma rocha de granito irrompia do vale e perdia seu cimo nevado nas nuvens. O riacho que até então os acompanhara alargava-se agora em rio; e, correndo profundo e silencioso, refletia, como num espelho, a negrura das sombras suspensas. Às vezes via-se uma escarpa erguendo sua fronte ousada acima dos bosques e dos vapores que flutuavam a meia altura das montanhas; e às vezes uma face de mármore perpendicular alçava-se da beira da água, sobre a qual o lariço estendia seus braços gigantescos, aqui fustigado pelo raio, ali flutuando em folhagem luxuriante.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Continuaram viajando por uma estrada acidentada, usada por pouca gente. De vez em quando viam um pastor solitário com seu cão caminhando pelo vale. Ouviam apenas o som forte de torrentes escondidas, o longo e triste som do vento nos pinheiros, e os gritos de águias e abutres voando em círculos ao redor do penhasco íngreme.

Original English

They continued to travel over a rough and unfrequented road, seeing now and then at a distance the solitary shepherd, with his dog, stalking along the valley, and hearing only the dashing of torrents, which the woods concealed from the eye, the long sullen murmur of the breeze, as it swept over the pines, or the notes of the eagle and the vulture, which were seen towering round the beetling cliff.

Original Português

Continuaram a viajar por uma estrada áspera e pouco frequentada, avistando de quando em quando, ao longe, o pastor solitário, com seu cão, a caminhar pelo vale, e ouvindo apenas o estrondo das torrentes, que os bosques ocultavam à vista, o longo murmúrio soturno da brisa ao varrer os pinheiros, ou os gritos da águia e do abutre, vistos a pairar em torno da escarpa saliente.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Muitas vezes, quando a carruagem avançava devagar pela estrada irregular, St. Aubert descia. Ele gostava de observar as plantas estranhas que cresciam à beira da estrada, já que essa região tinha muitas delas. Emily, tomada por forte emoção, se afastava sob as árvores e escutava em silêncio os sons solitários da floresta.

Original English

Often, as the carriage moved slowly over uneven ground, St. Aubert alighted, and amused himself with examining the curious plants that grew on the banks of the road, and with which these regions abound; while Emily, wrapt in high enthusiasm, wandered away under the shades, listening in deep silence to the lonely murmur of the woods.

Original Português

Amiúde, enquanto a carruagem avançava lentamente por terreno irregular, St. Aubert apeava e distraía-se examinando as curiosas plantas que cresciam às margens da estrada, e de que essas regiões abundam; enquanto Emily, tomada de vivo entusiasmo, afastava-se a vagar sob as sombras, escutando em profundo silêncio o solitário murmúrio dos bosques.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Por muitos quilômetros, não viram nenhuma vila nem povoado. As únicas moradias que encontraram foram as cabanas de cabreiros ou caçadores, no alto, entre os penhascos rochosos.

Original English

Neither village nor hamlet was seen for many leagues; the goat-herd's or the hunter's cabin, perched among the cliffs of the rocks, were the only human habitations that appeared.

Original Português

Nem aldeia nem povoado se via por muitas léguas; a cabana do cabreiro ou do caçador, empoleirada entre as escarpas das rochas, era a única habitação humana que aparecia.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Os viajantes almoçaram novamente ao ar livre, em um lugar agradável do vale, sob a ampla sombra de cedros. Depois seguiram viagem em direção a Beaujeu.

Original English

The travellers again took their dinner in the open air, on a pleasant spot in the valley, under the spreading shade of cedars; and then set forward towards Beaujeu.

Original Português

Os viajantes tornaram a jantar ao ar livre, num lugar aprazível do vale, sob a ampla sombra dos cedros; e então puseram-se a caminho rumo a Beaujeu.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A estrada começou a descer, e as florestas de pinheiros ficaram para trás enquanto ela serpenteava entre penhascos rochosos. A noite chegou novamente, e os viajantes não sabiam a que distância ainda estavam de Beaujeu. St. Aubert achava que não podia ser muito longe, e se consolava com a ideia de chegar, depois da cidade, a uma estrada mais movimentada, onde planejava passar a noite. No crepúsculo, mal conseguiam distinguir florestas, rochas e montanhas cobertas de urze, e logo até essas formas desapareceram na escuridão. Michael conduzia com cuidado, pois quase não conseguia ver a estrada, mas suas mulas pareciam mais sábias e mantinham os passos firmes.

Original English

The road now began to descend, and, leaving the pine forests behind, wound among rocky precipices. The evening twilight again fell over the scene, and the travellers were ignorant how far they might yet be from Beaujeu. St. Aubert, however, conjectured that the distance could not be very great, and comforted himself with the prospect of travelling on a more frequented road after reaching that town, where he designed to pass the night. Mingled woods, and rocks, and heathy mountains were now seen obscurely through the dusk; but soon even these imperfect images faded in darkness. Michael proceeded with caution, for he could scarcely distinguish the road; his mules, however, seemed to have more sagacity, and their steps were sure.

Original Português

A estrada começou então a descer e, deixando para trás as florestas de pinheiros, serpenteava por precipícios rochosos. O crepúsculo vespertino caiu novamente sobre a cena, e os viajantes ignoravam quão longe ainda poderiam estar de Beaujeu. St. Aubert, contudo, conjeturou que a distância não podia ser muito grande, e consolou-se com a perspectiva de viajar por uma estrada mais frequentada depois de chegar àquela cidade, onde tencionava passar a noite. Bosques mesclados, e rochas, e montanhas cobertas de urze eram agora vistos obscuramente através da penumbra; mas logo até essas imagens imperfeitas se apagaram na escuridão. Michael prosseguia com cautela, pois mal conseguia distinguir a estrada; suas mulas, no entanto, pareciam ter mais sagacidade, e seus passos eram firmes.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando contornaram uma montanha, viram uma luz distante que iluminava as rochas e boa parte do céu. Era claramente um grande fogo, mas não sabiam dizer se tinha sido acidental. St. Aubert pensou que poderia ter sido causado por bandidos que perturbavam os Pireneus, então ficou alerta e preocupado se a estrada passaria perto dali. Ele levava armas consigo, mas elas ofereceriam pouca proteção contra ladrões tão desesperados. Então ouviu uma voz atrás deles gritando para o condutor parar. St. Aubert disse a ele para seguir o mais rápido possível, mas nem Michael nem as mulas aceleraram o passo. Depois ouviu o som de cascos de cavalo. Um homem se aproximou cavalgando e continuava ordenando ao condutor que parasse. St. Aubert compreendeu a intenção do homem e conseguiu, com dificuldade, preparar uma pistola. Quando o homem chegou perto da porta da carruagem, St. Aubert atirou. O homem cambaleou sobre o cavalo, e depois do tiro houve um gemido. St. Aubert ficou horrorizado ao achar que reconhecia a voz fraca de Valancourt. Disse ao condutor para parar e chamou pelo nome de Valancourt. Uma voz respondeu, e ele então soube que era realmente ele. St. Aubert desceu na hora e foi ajudá-lo. Valancourt ainda estava sobre o cavalo, sangrando muito e com muita dor, embora tentasse acalmar St. Aubert dizendo que o ferimento era apenas no braço. Com a ajuda do condutor, St. Aubert o ajudou a descer do cavalo. Ele sentou-se na beira da estrada enquanto St. Aubert tentava enfaixar o braço, mas suas mãos tremiam demais. Michael tinha ido atrás do cavalo, que havia fugido, então St. Aubert chamou Emily para ajudar. Como ela não respondeu, ele foi até a carruagem e a encontrou desmaiada no banco. Ele ficou tão perturbado tanto pelo estado dela quanto pelo ferimento de Valancourt que mal sabia o que fazer. Tentou erguê-la e chamou Michael para trazer água do riacho ao lado da estrada, mas Michael estava longe demais para ouvir. Valancourt ouviu os gritos e o nome de Emily, e entendeu na hora o que tinha acontecido. Esquecendo sua própria dor, correu para ajudá-la. Ela estava despertando quando ele chegou à carruagem, e ao saber que a preocupação com ele tinha causado seu desmaio, disse a ela, com voz trêmula, que seu ferimento não era grave. Então St. Aubert viu que Valancourt ainda sangrava, então fez rapidamente uma bandagem com lenços. Isso estancou o sangue, mas St. Aubert ainda temia os efeitos do ferimento e continuava perguntando a que distância estavam de Beaujeu. Quando soube que ficava a duas léguas, ficou ainda mais preocupado, pois não sabia como Valancourt suportaria o percurso na carruagem, e via que ele já estava fraco pela perda de sangue. Valancourt implorou que ele não se preocupasse tanto, dizendo que tinha certeza de que aguentaria bem, e tentou falar do acidente como se fosse algo pequeno. O condutor de mulas voltou com o cavalo de Valancourt e o ajudou a entrar na carruagem. Emily já tinha se recuperado, e seguiram devagar em direção a Beaujeu.

Original English

On turning the angle of a mountain, a light appeared at a distance, that illumined the rocks, and the horizon to a great extent. It was evidently a large fire, but whether accidental, or otherwise, there were no means of knowing. St. Aubert thought it was probably kindled by some of the numerous banditti, that infested the Pyrenees, and he became watchful and anxious to know whether the road passed near this fire. He had arms with him, which, on an emergency, might afford some protection, though certainly a very unequal one, against a band of robbers, so desperate too as those usually were who haunted these wild regions. While many reflections rose upon his mind, he heard a voice shouting from the road behind, and ordering the muleteer to stop. St. Aubert bade him proceed as fast as possible; but either Michael, or his mules were obstinate, for they did not quit the old pace. Horses'feet were now heard; a man rode up to the carriage, still ordering the driver to stop; and St. Aubert, who could no longer doubt his purpose, was with difficulty able to prepare a pistol for his defence, when his hand was upon the door of the chaise. The man staggered on his horse, the report of the pistol was followed by a groan, and St. Aubert's horror may be imagined, when in the next instant he thought he heard the faint voice of Valancourt. He now himself bade the muleteer stop; and, pronouncing the name of Valancourt, was answered in a voice, that no longer suffered him to doubt. St. Aubert, who instantly alighted and went to his assistance, found him still sitting on his horse, but bleeding profusely, and appearing to be in great pain, though he endeavoured to soften the terror of St. Aubert by assurances that he was not materially hurt, the wound being only in his arm. St. Aubert, with the muleteer, assisted him to dismount, and he sat down on the bank of the road, where St. Aubert tried to bind up his arm, but his hands trembled so excessively that he could not accomplish it; and, Michael being now gone in pursuit of the horse, which, on being disengaged from his rider, had galloped off, he called Emily to his assistance. Receiving no answer, he went to the carriage, and found her sunk on the seat in a fainting fit. Between the distress of this circumstance and that of leaving Valancourt bleeding, he scarcely knew what he did; he endeavoured, however, to raise her, and called to Michael to fetch water from the rivulet that flowed by the road, but Michael was gone beyond the reach of his voice. Valancourt, who heard these calls, and also the repeated name of Emily, instantly understood the subject of his distress; and, almost forgetting his own condition, he hastened to her relief. She was reviving when he reached the carriage; and then, understanding that anxiety for him had occasioned her indisposition, he assured her, in a voice that trembled, but not from anguish, that his wound was of no consequence. While he said this St. Aubert turned round, and perceiving that he was still bleeding, the subject of his alarm changed again, and he hastily formed some handkerchiefs into a bandage. This stopped the effusion of the blood; but St. Aubert, dreading the consequence of the wound, enquired repeatedly how far they were from Beaujeu; when, learning that it was at two leagues'distance, his distress increased, since he knew not how Valancourt, in his present state, would bear the motion of the carriage, and perceived that he was already faint from loss of blood. When he mentioned the subject of his anxiety, Valancourt entreated that he would not suffer himself to be thus alarmed on his account, for that he had no doubt he should be able to support himself very well; and then he talked of the accident as a slight one. The muleteer being now returned with Valancourt's horse, assisted him into the chaise; and, as Emily was now revived, they moved slowly on towards Beaujeu.

Original Português

Ao contornar o ângulo de uma montanha, uma luz apareceu ao longe, que iluminava as rochas e o horizonte por grande extensão. Era evidentemente uma grande fogueira, mas se acidental ou não, não havia meio de saber. St. Aubert pensou que fora provavelmente acesa por alguns dos numerosos bandidos que infestavam os Pireneus, e tornou-se vigilante e ansioso por saber se a estrada passava perto daquela fogueira. Trazia armas consigo, que, numa emergência, poderiam oferecer alguma proteção, embora certamente muito desigual, contra um bando de salteadores, tão desesperados também como costumavam ser os que assombravam essas agrestes regiões. Enquanto muitas reflexões lhe surgiam na mente, ouviu uma voz gritando da estrada atrás e ordenando ao arrieiro que parasse. St. Aubert mandou-o seguir o mais depressa possível; mas ou Michael, ou suas mulas, eram teimosos, pois não abandonaram o velho passo. Ouviram-se então cascos de cavalo; um homem cavalgou até a carruagem, ainda ordenando ao condutor que parasse; e St. Aubert, que já não podia duvidar de seu propósito, com dificuldade conseguiu preparar uma pistola para sua defesa, quando a mão do homem já estava sobre a porta da sege. O homem cambaleou sobre o cavalo, ao estampido da pistola seguiu-se um gemido, e pode-se imaginar o horror de St. Aubert quando, no instante seguinte, julgou ouvir a débil voz de Valancourt. Agora ele próprio ordenou ao arrieiro que parasse; e, pronunciando o nome de Valancourt, foi-lhe respondido numa voz que já não lhe permitia duvidar. St. Aubert, que apeou no mesmo instante e correu a socorrê-lo, encontrou-o ainda sentado sobre o cavalo, mas sangrando profusamente e aparentando grande dor, embora se esforçasse por atenuar o terror de St. Aubert com garantias de que não estava seriamente ferido, sendo a ferida apenas no braço. St. Aubert, com o arrieiro, ajudou-o a desmontar, e ele sentou-se na margem da estrada, onde St. Aubert tentou atar-lhe o braço, mas suas mãos tremiam tão excessivamente que não o conseguia realizar; e, tendo Michael ido agora em busca do cavalo, que, ao livrar-se de seu cavaleiro, disparara a galope, chamou Emily em seu auxílio. Não recebendo resposta, foi até a carruagem e encontrou-a desfalecida no assento, num acesso de desmaio. Entre a aflição dessa circunstância e a de deixar Valancourt sangrando, mal sabia o que fazia; esforçou-se, contudo, por erguê-la, e chamou Michael para trazer água do riacho que corria à beira da estrada, mas Michael estava fora do alcance de sua voz. Valancourt, que ouviu esses chamados, e também o nome repetido de Emily, compreendeu no mesmo instante o motivo de sua aflição; e, quase esquecendo sua própria condição, apressou-se em socorrê-la. Ela recobrava os sentidos quando ele alcançou a carruagem; e então, ao compreender que a ansiedade por ele lhe causara a indisposição, garantiu-lhe, numa voz que tremia, mas não de angústia, que sua ferida não tinha importância. Enquanto dizia isso, St. Aubert voltou-se e, percebendo que ele ainda sangrava, mudou-se de novo o objeto de seu alarme, e ele apressadamente transformou alguns lenços numa atadura. Isso estancou o fluxo de sangue; mas St. Aubert, temendo as consequências da ferida, perguntou repetidamente a que distância estavam de Beaujeu; e, ao saber que ficava a duas léguas, sua aflição aumentou, pois não sabia como Valancourt, em seu estado atual, suportaria o movimento da carruagem, e percebia que ele já estava fraco pela perda de sangue. Quando mencionou o motivo de sua ansiedade, Valancourt suplicou-lhe que não se deixasse alarmar assim por sua causa, pois não tinha dúvida de que poderia muito bem manter-se firme; e então falou do acidente como coisa de somenos. Estando Michael agora de volta com o cavalo de Valancourt, ajudou-o a subir à sege; e, como Emily agora se recobrara, seguiram lentamente rumo a Beaujeu.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois que St. Aubert se recuperou do choque, ficou surpreso ao ver Valancourt. Valancourt explicou: "Senhor, o senhor me fez querer companhia outra vez. Depois que vocês partiram do povoado, ele pareceu muito solitário. Então decidi ir para outro lugar em busca de diversão. Tomei esta estrada porque atravessa montanhas mais bonitas. E" - ele parou por um momento - "eu vou contar, por que não? Eu esperava alcançá-los."

Original English

St. Aubert, when he had recovered from the terror occasioned him by this accident, expressed surprise on seeing Valancourt, who explained his unexpected appearance by saying, 'You, sir, renewed my taste for society; when you had left the hamlet, it did indeed appear a solitude. I determined, therefore, since my object was merely amusement, to change the scene; and I took this road, because I knew it led through a more romantic tract of mountains than the spot I have left. Besides,'added he, hesitating for an instant, 'I will own, and why should I not? that I had some hope of overtaking you.'

Original Português

St. Aubert, quando se recobrou do terror que aquele acidente lhe causara, manifestou surpresa ao ver Valancourt, que explicou sua inesperada aparição dizendo: 'Vós, senhor, renovastes meu gosto pela sociedade; quando deixastes o povoado, ele de fato pareceu uma solidão. Resolvi, portanto, já que meu objetivo era apenas a distração, mudar de cenário; e tomei esta estrada, porque sabia que atravessava um trecho de montanhas mais romântico do que o lugar que deixei. Além disso', acrescentou, hesitando por um instante, 'confesso, e por que não haveria de fazê-lo? que nutria alguma esperança de vos alcançar.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

"E eu retribuí esse elogio de uma forma bem inesperada", disse St. Aubert. Ele lamentou novamente o gesto precipitado que tinha causado o acidente e explicou por que tinha ficado tão alarmado. Mas Valancourt parecia se importar apenas em aliviar os sentimentos dos outros. Ele continuava lutando contra a dor e tentava falar com bom humor. Emily permaneceu calada, exceto quando Valancourt falava diretamente com ela, e então sua voz tinha um tom trêmulo que dizia muito.

Original English

'And I have made you a very unexpected return for the compliment,'said St. Aubert, who lamented again the rashness which had produced the accident, and explained the cause of his late alarm. But Valancourt seemed anxious only to remove from the minds of his companions every unpleasant feeling relative to himself; and, for that purpose, still struggled against a sense of pain, and tried to converse with gaiety. Emily meanwhile was silent, except when Valancourt particularly addressed her, and there was at those times a tremulous tone in his voice that spoke much.

Original Português

'E eu vos retribuí o cumprimento de modo bem inesperado', disse St. Aubert, que lamentou de novo a imprudência que provocara o acidente, e explicou a causa de seu recente alarme. Mas Valancourt parecia ansioso apenas por afastar da mente de seus companheiros todo sentimento desagradável a seu respeito; e, para tanto, ainda lutava contra a sensação de dor e procurava conversar com alegria. Emily, entretanto, permanecia calada, exceto quando Valancourt se dirigia particularmente a ela, e havia nesses momentos um tom trêmulo em sua voz que dizia muito.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Agora estavam tão perto do fogo, que já brilhava havia muito tempo contra a noite escura, que ele iluminava a estrada e conseguiam ver figuras se movendo ao redor dele. Enquanto o caminho serpenteava cada vez mais perto, viram no vale um dos muitos grupos de ciganos que naquela época viviam nos Pireneus e sobreviviam em parte roubando viajantes. Emily sentiu um certo medo ao ver seus rostos selvagens junto ao fogo. As chamas davam às rochas e às árvores uma luz vermelha e fraca, enquanto permaneciam sombras profundas e lugares escuros onde os olhos não queriam entrar.

Original English

They were now so near the fire, which had long flamed at a distance on the blackness of night, that it gleamed upon the road, and they could distinguish figures moving about the blaze. The way winding still nearer, they perceived in the valley one of those numerous bands of gipsies, which at that period particularly haunted the wilds of the Pyrenees, and lived partly by plundering the traveller. Emily looked with some degree of terror on the savage countenances of these people, shewn by the fire, which heightened the romantic effects of the scenery, as it threw a red dusky gleam upon the rocks and on the foliage of the trees, leaving heavy masses of shade and regions of obscurity, which the eye feared to penetrate.

Original Português

Estavam agora tão perto da fogueira, que por muito tempo ardera à distância na negrura da noite, que ela reluzia sobre a estrada, e podiam distinguir vultos movendo-se em torno das chamas. Serpenteando o caminho ainda mais para perto, perceberam no vale um daqueles numerosos bandos de ciganos que naquele período assombravam particularmente os ermos dos Pireneus e viviam em parte de saquear o viajante. Emily olhou com certo grau de terror para os semblantes selvagens dessa gente, revelados pela fogueira, que realçava os efeitos românticos do cenário, ao lançar um clarão avermelhado e sombrio sobre as rochas e sobre a folhagem das árvores, deixando pesadas massas de sombra e regiões de obscuridade que o olho temia penetrar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Eles estavam preparando o jantar. Uma grande panela ficava junto ao fogo, e várias pessoas se ocupavam ao seu redor. O fogo também mostrava uma barraca rústica, com muitas crianças e cães brincando por perto, e toda a cena parecia estranha e selvagem. Os viajantes perceberam que estavam em perigo. Valancourt não disse nada, mas pôs a mão em uma das pistolas de St. Aubert. St. Aubert pegou a outra, e disseram a Michael para seguir o mais rápido que pudesse. Mas passaram pelo local sem serem atacados, provavelmente porque o grupo não estava preparado e estava ocupado demais com o jantar para se importar com qualquer outra coisa naquele momento.

Original English

They were preparing their supper; a large pot stood by the fire, over which several figures were busy. The blaze discovered a rude kind of tent, round which many children and dogs were playing, and the whole formed a picture highly grotesque. The travellers saw plainly their danger. Valancourt was silent, but laid his hand on one of St. Aubert's pistols; St. Aubert drew forth another, and Michael was ordered to proceed as fast as possible. They passed the place, however, without being attacked; the rovers being probably unprepared for the opportunity, and too busy about their supper to feel much interest, at the moment, in any thing besides.

Original Português

Preparavam a ceia; um grande caldeirão estava junto à fogueira, sobre o qual várias figuras se afadigavam. O clarão revelava uma espécie de tenda rústica, em torno da qual muitas crianças e cães brincavam, e o conjunto formava um quadro altamente grotesco. Os viajantes viam claramente seu perigo. Valancourt calou-se, mas pôs a mão sobre uma das pistolas de St. Aubert; St. Aubert sacou a outra, e Michael recebeu ordem de seguir o mais depressa possível. Passaram pelo lugar, contudo, sem serem atacados; estando os vagabundos provavelmente despreparados para a oportunidade, e ocupados demais com a ceia para sentir, naquele momento, muito interesse por qualquer outra coisa.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de mais uma légua e meia na escuridão, os viajantes chegaram a Beaujeu e foram até a única pousada da cidade. Era melhor do que qualquer lugar que tinham visto desde que entraram nas montanhas, mas ainda era pobre.

Original English

After a league and a half more, passed in darkness, the travellers arrived at Beaujeu, and drove up to the only inn the place afforded; which, though superior to any they had seen since they entered the mountains, was bad enough.

Original Português

Após mais légua e meia, percorrida na escuridão, os viajantes chegaram a Beaujeu e dirigiram-se à única estalagem que o lugar oferecia; a qual, embora superior a qualquer uma que houvessem visto desde que entraram nas montanhas, era bastante ruim.

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B1 Português (simplified)

O cirurgião da cidade foi chamado imediatamente, se é que podia ser chamado de cirurgião. Ele tratava cavalos e pessoas, e fazia a barba quase tão bem quanto engessava ossos. Depois de examinar o braço de Valancourt, viu que a bala tinha atravessado a carne sem atingir o osso. Ele enfaixou o ferimento e mandou o rapaz descansar, mas o paciente não queria fazer isso. Valancourt se sentia muito melhor agora que a dor tinha diminuído. Ele queria se juntar a St. Aubert e Emily, que estavam alegres porque seus medos tinham passado. Mas St. Aubert precisou sair com o dono da pousada para comprar carne para o jantar. Durante esse tempo, Emily ficou afastada o máximo que pôde, cuidando do quarto deles, que era melhor do que ela esperava. No fim, teve que voltar e conversar com Valancourt a sós. Falaram sobre a região por onde tinham passado, sua história natural, poesia, e St. Aubert, um assunto de que Emily sempre gostava muito.

Original English

The surgeon of the town was immediately sent for, if a surgeon he could be called, who prescribed for horses as well as for men, and shaved faces at least as dexterously as he set bones. After examining Valancourt's arm, and perceiving that the bullet had passed through the flesh without touching the bone, he dressed it, and left him with a solemn prescription of quiet, which his patient was not inclined to obey. The delight of ease had now succeeded to pain; for ease may be allowed to assume a positive quality when contrasted with anguish; and, his spirits thus re-animated, he wished to partake of the conversation of St. Aubert and Emily, who, released from so many apprehensions, were uncommonly cheerful. Late as it was, however, St. Aubert was obliged to go out with the landlord to buy meat for supper; and Emily, who, during this interval, had been absent as long as she could, upon excuses of looking to their accommodation, which she found rather better than she expected, was compelled to return, and converse with Valancourt alone. They talked of the character of the scenes they had passed, of the natural history of the country, of poetry, and of St. Aubert; a subject on which Emily always spoke and listened to with peculiar pleasure.

Original Português

Mandou-se chamar imediatamente o cirurgião da cidade, se é que assim se podia chamar quem tanto receitava para cavalos como para homens, e barbeava rostos ao menos com tanta destreza quanto ajeitava ossos. Depois de examinar o braço de Valancourt e perceber que a bala atravessara a carne sem tocar o osso, fez-lhe o curativo e deixou-o com uma solene prescrição de repouso, que seu paciente não estava disposto a obedecer. O deleite do alívio sucedera agora à dor; pois pode-se conceder ao alívio uma qualidade positiva quando contrastado com a angústia; e, assim reanimado seu ânimo, ele desejava partilhar da conversa de St. Aubert e Emily, que, livres de tantos receios, estavam extraordinariamente alegres. Por mais tarde que fosse, contudo, St. Aubert viu-se obrigado a sair com o estalajadeiro para comprar carne para a ceia; e Emily, que, durante esse intervalo, se ausentara o mais que pôde, a pretexto de zelar por suas acomodações, que achou um tanto melhores do que esperava, viu-se compelida a voltar e a conversar a sós com Valancourt. Falaram do caráter das cenas por que haviam passado, da história natural da região, de poesia e de St. Aubert; assunto sobre o qual Emily sempre falava, e que sempre escutava, com peculiar prazer.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Os viajantes tiveram uma noite agradável. Mas St. Aubert estava cansado da viagem, e Valancourt parecia sentir dor novamente, então se separaram logo depois do jantar.

Original English

The travellers passed an agreeable evening; but St. Aubert was fatigued with his journey; and, as Valancourt seemed again sensible of pain, they separated soon after supper.

Original Português

Os viajantes passaram uma noite agradável; mas St. Aubert estava fatigado da jornada; e, como Valancourt parecia novamente sensível à dor, separaram-se pouco depois da ceia.

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B1 Português (simplified)

De manhã, St. Aubert soube que Valancourt tinha passado uma noite ruim. Ele estava com febre, e o ferimento doía muito. Quando o cirurgião trocou o curativo, aconselhou Valancourt a ficar tranquilamente em Beaujeu. Esse conselho era sensato, então foi aceito. St. Aubert não confiava no cirurgião e queria melhores cuidados para Valancourt. Mas, depois de perguntar por ali, descobriu que não havia nenhuma cidade a várias léguas de distância que parecesse ter um médico melhor. Então mudou seus planos de viagem e decidiu esperar até que Valancourt se recuperasse. Valancourt fez muitas objeções a esse atraso, embora não parecesse totalmente sincero.

Original English

In the morning St. Aubert found that Valancourt had passed a restless night; that he was feverish, and his wound very painful. The surgeon, when he dressed it, advised him to remain quietly at Beaujeu; advice which was too reasonable to be rejected. St. Aubert, however, had no favourable opinion of this practitioner, and was anxious to commit Valancourt into more skilful hands; but learning, upon enquiry, that there was no town within several leagues which seemed more likely to afford better advice, he altered the plan of his journey, and determined to await the recovery of Valancourt, who, with somewhat more ceremony than sincerity, made many objections to this delay.

Original Português

Pela manhã, St. Aubert soube que Valancourt passara uma noite agitada; que estava febril, e sua ferida muito dolorida. O cirurgião, ao fazer-lhe o curativo, aconselhou-o a permanecer tranquilo em Beaujeu; conselho por demais sensato para ser rejeitado. St. Aubert, contudo, não tinha boa opinião desse prático e estava ansioso por confiar Valancourt a mãos mais hábeis; mas, sabendo, ao indagar, que não havia cidade alguma a algumas léguas de distância que parecesse mais capaz de oferecer melhores conselhos, alterou o plano de sua viagem e resolveu esperar a recuperação de Valancourt, que, com um pouco mais de cerimônia do que de sinceridade, fez muitas objeções a essa demora.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Por ordem do cirurgião, Valancourt ficou na casa naquele dia. Mas St. Aubert e Emily caminharam pela cidade e apreciaram a paisagem ao redor. A cidade ficava ao pé dos Alpes pirenaicos. Algumas montanhas se erguiam em penhascos íngremes, e outras eram cobertas por florestas de cedro, abeto e cipreste quase até o topo. O verde vivo das faias e das sorveiras às vezes brilhava através da floresta escura, como luz. Em outros momentos, um riacho impetuoso reluzia no alto, entre as árvores.

Original English

By order of his surgeon, Valancourt did not go out of the house that day; but St. Aubert and Emily surveyed with delight the environs of the town, situated at the feet of the Pyrenean Alps, that rose, some in abrupt precipices, and others swelling with woods of cedar, fir, and cypress, which stretched nearly to their highest summits. The cheerful green of the beech and mountain-ash was sometimes seen, like a gleam of light, amidst the dark verdure of the forest; and sometimes a torrent poured its sparkling flood, high among the woods.

Original Português

Por ordem de seu cirurgião, Valancourt não saiu de casa naquele dia; mas St. Aubert e Emily contemplaram com deleite os arredores da cidade, situada ao pé dos Alpes pireneus, que se erguiam, uns em precipícios abruptos, e outros avolumando-se com bosques de cedro, abeto e cipreste, que se estendiam quase até seus mais altos cumes. O verde alegre da faia e da sorveira-brava via-se às vezes, como um lampejo de luz, em meio ao verdor escuro da floresta; e às vezes uma torrente despejava sua vaga cintilante, alto entre os bosques.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A doença de Valancourt manteve os viajantes em Beaujeu por vários dias. Durante esse tempo, St. Aubert estudou com atenção seu caráter e seus talentos. Ele viu que Valancourt era franco e generoso, cheio de energia, e profundamente tocado pelo que era grandioso e belo. Mas também era impulsivo, selvagem e um tanto romântico. Sabia pouco sobre o mundo. Compreendia as coisas com clareza e sentia profundamente. Falava com grande emoção quando odiava uma ação vergonhosa ou admirava uma ação nobre. St. Aubert às vezes sorria diante de sua paixão, mas raramente o continha. Pensava com frequência: "Este rapaz nunca esteve em Paris." Depois suspirava. Decidiu não deixar Valancourt até que estivesse totalmente recuperado. Como Valancourt já podia viajar, mas ainda não podia montar seu cavalo, St. Aubert o convidou para ir com eles na carruagem por alguns dias. Ele concordou com ainda mais facilidade ao saber que Valancourt pertencia a uma família do mesmo nome na Gasconha, e que sabia que eram pessoas respeitáveis. Valancourt aceitou com grande satisfação, e partiram novamente pela região selvagem perto de Rousillon.

Original English

Valancourt's indisposition detained the travellers at Beaujeu several days, during which interval St. Aubert had observed his disposition and his talents with the philosophic inquiry so natural to him. He saw a frank and generous nature, full of ardour, highly susceptible of whatever is grand and beautiful, but impetuous, wild, and somewhat romantic. Valancourt had known little of the world. His perceptions were clear, and his feelings just; his indignation of an unworthy, or his admiration of a generous action, were expressed in terms of equal vehemence. St. Aubert sometimes smiled at his warmth, but seldom checked it, and often repeated to himself, 'This young man has never been at Paris.'A sigh sometimes followed this silent ejaculation. He determined not to leave Valancourt till he should be perfectly recovered; and, as he was now well enough to travel, though not able to manage his horse, St. Aubert invited him to accompany him for a few days in the carriage. This he the more readily did, since he had discovered that Valancourt was of a family of the same name in Gascony, with whose respectability he was well acquainted. The latter accepted the offer with great pleasure, and they again set forward among these romantic wilds about Rousillon.

Original Português

A indisposição de Valancourt reteve os viajantes em Beaujeu por vários dias, durante cujo intervalo St. Aubert observara seu temperamento e seus talentos com a indagação filosófica que lhe era tão natural. Via uma natureza franca e generosa, cheia de ardor, sumamente sensível a tudo o que é grandioso e belo, mas impetuosa, selvagem e um tanto romântica. Valancourt conhecia pouco do mundo. Suas percepções eram claras, e seus sentimentos justos; sua indignação diante de uma ação indigna, ou sua admiração por uma ação generosa, exprimiam-se em termos de igual veemência. St. Aubert às vezes sorria de seu calor, mas raramente o refreava, e amiúde repetia consigo: 'Este jovem nunca esteve em Paris.' Um suspiro seguia-se às vezes a essa silenciosa exclamação. Resolveu não deixar Valancourt até que estivesse perfeitamente restabelecido; e, como agora já estava bem o bastante para viajar, embora incapaz de conduzir seu cavalo, St. Aubert convidou-o a acompanhá-lo por alguns dias na carruagem. Fê-lo tanto mais de bom grado quanto descobrira que Valancourt pertencia a uma família de mesmo nome na Gasconha, com cuja respeitabilidade estava bem familiarizado. O jovem aceitou o oferecimento com grande prazer, e puseram-se novamente a caminho por aqueles românticos ermos em torno do Rossilhão.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Viajavam devagar e paravam sempre que viam uma cena especialmente grandiosa. Muitas vezes desciam e subiam até um lugar alto onde as mulas não podiam ir, e a vista se tornava ainda mais magnífica. Também caminhavam por colinas cobertas de lavanda, tomilho selvagem, zimbro e tamargueira, e sob bosques onde podiam ver longas vistas das montanhas entre os troncos das árvores. Essas paisagens pareciam ainda mais maravilhosas do que Emily jamais tinha imaginado.

Original English

They travelled leisurely; stopping wherever a scene uncommonly grand appeared; frequently alighting to walk to an eminence, whither the mules could not go, from which the prospect opened in greater magnificence; and often sauntering over hillocks covered with lavender, wild thyme, juniper, and tamarisc; and under the shades of woods, between those boles they caught the long mountain-vista, sublime beyond any thing that Emily had ever imagined.

Original Português

Viajavam sem pressa; parando onde quer que surgisse uma cena excepcionalmente grandiosa; apeando com frequência para caminhar até alguma eminência aonde as mulas não podiam ir, e de onde a perspectiva se abria em maior magnificência; e amiúde perambulando por outeiros cobertos de alfazema, tomilho silvestre, junípero e tamargueira; e sob as sombras dos bosques, entre cujos troncos avistavam a longa vista das montanhas, sublime além de tudo o que Emily jamais imaginara.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert às vezes se divertia colhendo plantas enquanto Valancourt e Emily seguiam caminhando. Valancourt apontava coisas de que gostava especialmente e recitava belos versos de poetas latinos e italianos que ele sabia que Emily admirava. Quando ficavam em silêncio, e ele achava que ela não percebia, ele frequentemente olhava para o rosto dela com profunda atenção. O rosto dela mostrava a vivacidade e a força de sua mente. Quando voltava a falar, sua voz ficava especialmente suave, e era difícil esconder seus sentimentos. Pouco a pouco, essas pausas silenciosas se tornaram mais frequentes. Só Emily parecia ansiosa para quebrá-las. Ela, que até então tinha ficado calada, agora falava sem parar sobre os bosques, os vales e as montanhas, para que não houvesse o perigo de cumplicidade e silêncio.

Original English

St. Aubert sometimes amused himself with botanizing, while Valancourt and Emily strolled on; he pointing out to her notice the objects that particularly charmed him, and reciting beautiful passages from such of the Latin and Italian poets as he had heard her admire. In the pauses of conversation, when he thought himself not observed, he frequently fixed his eyes pensively on her countenance, which expressed with so much animation the taste and energy of her mind; and when he spoke again, there was a peculiar tenderness in the tone of his voice, that defeated any attempt to conceal his sentiments. By degrees these silent pauses became more frequent; till Emily, only, betrayed an anxiety to interrupt them; and she; who had been hitherto reserved, would now talk again, and again, of the woods and the vallies and the mountains, to avoid the danger of sympathy and silence.

Original Português

St. Aubert às vezes se distraía herborizando, enquanto Valancourt e Emily passeavam adiante; ele apontando à atenção dela os objetos que particularmente o encantavam, e recitando belas passagens dos poetas latinos e italianos que a ouvira admirar. Nas pausas da conversa, quando se julgava não observado, ele fixava amiúde os olhos, pensativo, no semblante dela, que exprimia com tanta animação o gosto e a energia de seu espírito; e, quando tornava a falar, havia uma peculiar ternura no tom de sua voz, que frustrava qualquer tentativa de ocultar seus sentimentos. Aos poucos, essas pausas silenciosas tornaram-se mais frequentes; até que apenas Emily traía uma ansiedade por interrompê-las; e ela, que até então fora reservada, punha-se agora a falar, uma e outra vez, dos bosques, dos vales e das montanhas, para evitar o perigo da simpatia e do silêncio.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A partir de Beaujeu, a estrada continuava subindo e levava os viajantes a alturas cada vez maiores. Ali viram enormes geleiras e neve que nunca derretia nos topos das montanhas. Paravam com frequência para observar essas cenas grandiosas. Sentados em penhascos selvagens, onde só a azinheira ou o larício conseguiam crescer, olhavam para florestas escuras de abetos e rochas íngremes onde nenhum pé humano jamais tinha pisado, e para um vale tão profundo que o ruído do riacho no fundo mal podia ser ouvido. Acima daqueles penhascos erguiam-se outros, enormes e de formas estranhas, alguns em forma de cone e outros inclinados bem além de sua base, em grandes massas de granito. Em suas cristas quebradas havia neve pesada, que tremia ao menor som e parecia prestes a despencar no vale. Ao redor deles, até onde a vista alcançava, só havia grandiosidade: longas fileiras de picos tingidos de azul pelo ar ou de branco pela neve, vales gelados e escuras florestas de abetos. O ar limpo e calmo era muito agradável para os viajantes. Parecia elevar seus espíritos e enchê-los de uma alegria tranquila. Eles não tinham palavras para os sentimentos intensos que sentiam. St. Aubert parecia sério, muitas vezes tinha lágrimas nos olhos, e frequentemente se afastava dos outros. Valancourt às vezes apontava detalhes da paisagem para Emily. O ar rarefeito fazia tudo parecer muito nítido, e Emily mal conseguia acreditar que coisas que pareciam tão próximas estavam, na verdade, muito longe. O silêncio profundo era quebrado apenas de vez em quando pelo grito de abutres perto de um penhasco abaixo, ou por uma águia bem no alto do céu, exceto quando ouviam o trovão surdo que às vezes soava sob seus pés. Acima deles, o céu era de um azul profundo, sem nuvens, enquanto na metade das montanhas longas ondas de névoa costumavam passar, escondendo a terra abaixo e depois se abrindo novamente para mostrá-la em parte. Emily adorava observar essas nuvens mudando de forma e cor, e via como elas transformavam o mundo lá embaixo, cujos traços meio escondidos iam ganhando novas formas de grandiosidade.

Original English

From Beaujeu the road had constantly ascended, conducting the travellers into the higher regions of the air, where immense glaciers exhibited their frozen horrors, and eternal snow whitened the summits of the mountains. They often paused to contemplate these stupendous scenes, and, seated on some wild cliff, where only the ilex or the larch could flourish, looked over dark forests of fir, and precipices where human foot had never wandered, into the glen - so deep, that the thunder of the torrent, which was seen to foam along the bottom, was scarcely heard to murmur. Over these crags rose others of stupendous height, and fantastic shape; some shooting into cones; others impending far over their base, in huge masses of granite, along whose broken ridges was often lodged a weight of snow, that, trembling even to the vibration of a sound, threatened to bear destruction in its course to the vale. Around, on every side, far as the eye could penetrate, were seen only forms of grandeur - the long perspective of mountain-tops, tinged with ethereal blue, or white with snow; vallies of ice, and forests of gloomy fir. The serenity and clearness of the air in these high regions were particularly delightful to the travellers; it seemed to inspire them with a finer spirit, and diffused an indescribable complacency over their minds. They had no words to express the sublime emotions they felt. A solemn expression characterized the feelings of St. Aubert; tears often came to his eyes, and he frequently walked away from his companions. Valancourt now and then spoke, to point to Emily's notice some feature of the scene. The thinness of the atmosphere, through which every object came so distinctly to the eye, surprised and deluded her; who could scarcely believe that objects, which appeared so near, were, in reality, so distant. The deep silence of these solitudes was broken only at intervals by the scream of the vultures, seen cowering round some cliff below, or by the cry of the eagle sailing high in the air; except when the travellers listened to the hollow thunder that sometimes muttered at their feet. While, above, the deep blue of the heavens was unobscured by the lightest cloud, half way down the mountains, long billows of vapour were frequently seen rolling, now wholly excluding the country below, and now opening, and partially revealing its features. Emily delighted to observe the grandeur of these clouds as they changed in shape and tints, and to watch their various effect on the lower world, whose features, partly veiled, were continually assuming new forms of sublimity.

Original Português

De Beaujeu a estrada subira constantemente, conduzindo os viajantes às mais altas regiões do ar, onde imensas geleiras exibiam seus horrores gelados, e a neve eterna alvejava os cumes das montanhas. Paravam amiúde para contemplar essas cenas estupendas e, sentados em alguma escarpa agreste, onde só a azinheira ou o lariço podiam medrar, contemplavam, para além de escuras florestas de abeto e de precipícios aonde pé humano jamais vagara, o vale - tão profundo que o estrondo da torrente, que se via espumar ao fundo, mal se ouvia murmurar. Sobre esses rochedos erguiam-se outros de altura estupenda e forma fantástica; uns aguçando-se em cones; outros pendendo muito além de sua base, em enormes massas de granito, ao longo de cujas cristas quebradas amiúde repousava um peso de neve que, estremecendo à mera vibração de um som, ameaçava levar destruição em seu curso até o vale. Ao redor, por todos os lados, tão longe quanto o olho podia penetrar, viam-se apenas formas de grandeza - a longa perspectiva de cumes de montanhas, tingidos de azul etéreo, ou brancos de neve; vales de gelo e florestas de sombrio abeto. A serenidade e a limpidez do ar nessas altas regiões eram particularmente deliciosas aos viajantes; parecia inspirar-lhes um espírito mais fino e difundir uma indescritível complacência sobre suas mentes. Não tinham palavras para exprimir as sublimes emoções que sentiam. Uma expressão solene caracterizava os sentimentos de St. Aubert; lágrimas amiúde lhe vinham aos olhos, e ele frequentemente se afastava de seus companheiros. Valancourt de quando em quando falava, para apontar à atenção de Emily algum aspecto da cena. A rarefação da atmosfera, através da qual cada objeto chegava tão nitidamente ao olho, surpreendia-a e iludia-a; ela mal podia crer que objetos que pareciam tão próximos estivessem, na realidade, tão distantes. O profundo silêncio dessas solidões só era rompido, a intervalos, pelo grito dos abutres, vistos a acuar-se em torno de alguma escarpa abaixo, ou pelo clamor da águia navegando alto no ar; exceto quando os viajantes escutavam o surdo trovão que às vezes rosnava a seus pés. Enquanto, acima, o profundo azul dos céus não era obscurecido pela mais leve nuvem, a meia altura das montanhas viam-se amiúde longas vagas de vapor rolando, ora excluindo por completo a região abaixo, ora abrindo-se e revelando em parte suas feições. Emily deleitava-se em observar a grandeza dessas nuvens à medida que mudavam de forma e de matizes, e em acompanhar seu vário efeito sobre o mundo inferior, cujas feições, em parte veladas, assumiam continuamente novas formas de sublimidade.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de muitas léguas por essas regiões, começaram a descer em direção a Rousillon, e a beleza passou a fazer parte da paisagem. Ainda assim, os viajantes olhavam para trás com certa tristeza, para as vistas grandiosas que tinham deixado para trás. No entanto, seus olhos, cansados de olhar tão longe, ficavam felizes em descansar sobre os bosques verdes e os prados junto ao rio lá embaixo, sobre a simples casa sombreada por cedros, sobre as crianças da montanha brincando, e sobre os cantos cheios de flores entre as colinas.

Original English

After traversing these regions for many leagues, they began to descend towards Rousillon, and features of beauty then mingled with the scene. Yet the travellers did not look back without some regret to the sublime objects they had quitted; though the eye, fatigued with the extension of its powers, was glad to repose on the verdure of woods and pastures, that now hung on the margin of the river below; to view again the humble cottage shaded by cedars, the playful group of mountaineer-children, and the flowery nooks that appeared among the hills.

Original Português

Depois de atravessar essas regiões por muitas léguas, começaram a descer rumo ao Rossilhão, e traços de beleza mesclaram-se então à cena. Contudo, os viajantes não olhavam para trás sem certo pesar dos sublimes objetos que haviam deixado; embora o olho, fatigado da extensão de suas faculdades, se alegrasse por repousar no verdor de bosques e pastagens que agora pendiam à margem do rio abaixo; por rever a humilde cabana sombreada por cedros, o grupo brincalhão de crianças montanhesas e os floridos recantos que apareciam entre as colinas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto desciam, avistaram, bem à direita, uma das grandes passagens dos Pireneus para a Espanha. Suas torres e muralhas brilhavam à luz do sol poente. Os topos amarelados das florestas coloriam as encostas abaixo, enquanto, bem no alto, os picos nevados das montanhas ainda mostravam uma suave luz rosada.

Original English

As they descended, they saw at a distance, on the right, one of the grand passes of the Pyrenees into Spain, gleaming with its battlements and towers to the splendour of the setting rays, yellow tops of woods colouring the steeps below, while far above aspired the snowy points of the mountains, still reflecting a rosy hue.

Original Português

Ao descerem, avistaram ao longe, à direita, uma das grandes passagens dos Pireneus para a Espanha, reluzindo com suas ameias e torres ao esplendor dos raios poentes, cimos amarelos de bosques colorindo as encostas abaixo, enquanto muito acima se alteavam os picos nevados das montanhas, ainda refletindo um tom róseo.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert começou a procurar a pequena cidade de que as pessoas de Beaujeu tinham lhe falado, onde pretendia passar a noite. Mas nenhuma casa ainda era visível. Valancourt não conseguia ajudá-lo a calcular a distância, pois nunca tinha viajado tão longe por aquela parte dos Alpes. Ainda assim, havia apenas uma estrada a seguir, e era provável que fosse a certa, já que nenhum outro caminho tinha aparecido para confundi-los desde que saíram de Beaujeu.

Original English

St. Aubert began to look out for the little town he had been directed to by the people of Beaujeu, and where he meant to pass the night; but no habitation yet appeared. Of its distance Valancourt could not assist him to judge, for he had never been so far along this chain of Alps before. There was, however, a road to guide them; and there could be little doubt that it was the right one; for, since they had left Beaujeu, there had been no variety of tracks to perplex or mislead.

Original Português

St. Aubert começou a procurar a pequena cidade a que fora encaminhado pelo pessoal de Beaujeu, e onde tencionava passar a noite; mas nenhuma habitação ainda aparecia. Quanto à sua distância, Valancourt não pôde ajudá-lo a avaliar, pois nunca antes estivera tão longe ao longo dessa cordilheira dos Alpes. Havia, contudo, uma estrada para guiá-los; e pouca dúvida podia haver de que era a certa; pois, desde que haviam deixado Beaujeu, não houvera variedade de trilhas que os confundisse ou desencaminhasse.

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B1 Português (simplified)

O sol dava sua última luz, e St. Aubert disse ao condutor de mulas para seguir o mais rápido possível. Ele sentiu voltar a fraqueza e o cansaço, depois de um dia que tinha esgotado tanto seu corpo quanto sua mente, e desejava descansar. Também ficou perturbado ao ver uma longa fila de homens, cavalos e mulas carregadas descendo a montanha do outro lado, aparecendo e desaparecendo repetidamente entre as árvores, de modo que ninguém conseguia dizer quantos eram. Algo brilhante, como armas, reluziu ao pôr do sol, e os homens da frente, assim como outros no grupo atrás, usavam trajes militares. Enquanto desciam para o vale, a retaguarda do grupo saiu do bosque e revelou um pelotão de soldados. St. Aubert então se sentiu mais tranquilo. Tinha certeza de que a fila à sua frente era formada por contrabandistas que estavam levando mercadorias proibidas pelos Pireneus e tinham sido encontrados e derrotados por tropas.

Original English

The sun now gave his last light, and St. Aubert bade the muleteer proceed with all possible dispatch. He found, indeed, the lassitude of illness return upon him, after a day of uncommon fatigue, both of body and mind, and he longed for repose. His anxiety was not soothed by observing a numerous train, consisting of men, horses, and loaded mules, winding down the steeps of an opposite mountain, appearing and disappearing at intervals among the woods, so that its numbers could not be judged of. Something bright, like arms, glanced in the setting ray, and the military dress was distinguishable upon the men who were in the van, and on others scattered among the troop that followed. As these wound into the vale, the rear of the party emerged from the woods, and exhibited a band of soldiers. St. Aubert's apprehensions now subsided; he had no doubt that the train before him consisted of smugglers, who, in conveying prohibited goods over the Pyrenees, had been encountered, and conquered by a party of troops.

Original Português

O sol dava agora sua última luz, e St. Aubert mandou o arrieiro prosseguir com toda a presteza possível. Sentia, de fato, retornar-lhe a lassidão da doença, após um dia de incomum fadiga, tanto de corpo quanto de espírito, e ansiava por repouso. Sua ansiedade não foi aplacada ao observar um numeroso séquito, composto de homens, cavalos e mulas carregadas, a descer serpenteando pelas encostas de uma montanha oposta, aparecendo e desaparecendo a intervalos entre os bosques, de sorte que não se podia avaliar seu número. Algo brilhante, como armas, cintilava ao raio poente, e distinguia-se o traje militar nos homens que iam à frente, e em outros espalhados pela tropa que os seguia. À medida que estes serpenteavam para dentro do vale, a retaguarda do grupo emergiu dos bosques e exibiu um bando de soldados. Os receios de St. Aubert então se aplacaram; não tinha dúvida de que o séquito diante dele se compunha de contrabandistas que, ao transportar mercadorias proibidas pelos Pireneus, haviam sido interceptados e vencidos por um destacamento de tropas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Os viajantes tinham demorado tanto entre as vistas grandiosas das montanhas que estavam enganados ao pensar que poderiam chegar a Montigny antes do pôr do sol. Enquanto seguiam o vale, viram, sobre uma rústica ponte alpina que unia duas rochas altas, um grupo de crianças da montanha. Elas jogavam pedrinhas no rio abaixo e observavam as pedras caírem na água. A água levantava borrifos brancos e produzia um som surdo que ecoava pelas montanhas. Sob a ponte, podiam ver o vale se estendendo ao longe, com uma cachoeira entre as rochas e uma casa em um penhasco sob pinheiros. Parecia que não podiam estar longe de uma pequena cidade. St. Aubert pediu ao condutor que parasse e chamou as crianças para perguntar se estavam perto de Montigny. Mas a distância e o barulho da água impediram que sua voz fosse ouvida. As rochas junto à ponte eram tão altas e íngremes que escalá-las teria sido quase impossível para quem não conhecesse o caminho. Por isso, St. Aubert não perdeu mais tempo. Continuaram viajando muito depois de o crepúsculo esconder a estrada, e, como o caminho estava tão acidentado, desceram e seguiram a pé. A lua estava nascendo, mas sua luz ainda era fraca demais para ajudá-los. Enquanto avançavam com cuidado, ouviram o sino noturno de um convento. Na escuridão, não conseguiam ver nenhum prédio, mas o som parecia vir de um bosque em uma encosta à direita. Valancourt sugeriu que ele mesmo fosse procurar o convento. "Se não quiserem nos dar um lugar para passar a noite", disse ele, "com certeza podem nos dizer a que distância estamos de Montigny e nos mostrar o caminho." Ele começou a avançar sem esperar a resposta de St. Aubert, mas St. Aubert o deteve. "Estou muito cansado", disse ele, "e quero descansar mais do que tudo. Vamos todos juntos ao convento. Sua boa aparência pode atrapalhar nosso plano, mas quando virem meu rosto e o cansaço de Emily, dificilmente vão nos recusar abrigo."

Original English

The travellers had lingered so long among the sublimer scenes of these mountains, that they found themselves entirely mistaken in their calculation that they could reach Montigny at sun-set; but, as they wound along the valley, the saw, on a rude Alpine bridge, that united two lofty crags of the glen, a group of mountaineer-children, amusing themselves with dropping pebbles into a torrent below, and watching the stones plunge into the water, that threw up its white spray high in the air as it received them, and returned a sullen sound, which the echoes of the mountains prolonged. Under the bridge was seen a perspective of the valley, with its cataract descending among the rocks, and a cottage on a cliff, overshadowed with pines. It appeared, that they could not be far from some small town. St. Aubert bade the muleteer stop, and then called to the children to enquire if he was near Montigny; but the distance, and the roaring of the waters, would not suffer his voice to be heard; and the crags, adjoining the bridge, were of such tremendous height and steepness, that to have climbed either would have been scarcely practicable to a person unacquainted with the ascent. St. Aubert, therefore, did not waste more moments in delay. They continued to travel long after twilight had obscured the road, which was so broken, that, now thinking it safer to walk than to ride, they all alighted. The moon was rising, but her light was yet too feeble to assist them. While they stepped carefully on, they heard the vesper-bell of a convent. The twilight would not permit them to distinguish anything like a building, but the sounds seemed to come from some woods, that overhung an acclivity to the right. Valancourt proposed to go in search of this convent. 'If they will not accommodate us with a night's lodging,'said he, 'they may certainly inform us how far we are from Montigny, and direct us towards it.'He was bounding forward, without waiting St. Aubert's reply, when the latter stopped him. 'I am very weary,'said St. Aubert, 'and wish for nothing so much as for immediate rest. We will all go to the convent; your good looks would defeat our purpose; but when they see mine and Emily's exhausted countenances, they will scarcely deny us repose.'

Original Português

Os viajantes haviam-se demorado tanto entre as cenas mais sublimes dessas montanhas que se acharam inteiramente equivocados em seu cálculo de que poderiam chegar a Montigny ao pôr do sol; mas, ao serpentearem pelo vale, viram, sobre uma rústica ponte alpina que unia dois altos rochedos do desfiladeiro, um grupo de crianças montanhesas a divertir-se deixando cair seixos numa torrente abaixo, e observando as pedras mergulharem na água que, ao recebê-las, lançava alto no ar sua branca espuma e devolvia um som soturno, que os ecos das montanhas prolongavam. Sob a ponte via-se uma perspectiva do vale, com sua cascata descendo entre as rochas, e uma cabana numa escarpa, ensombrada por pinheiros. Parecia que não podiam estar longe de alguma pequena cidade. St. Aubert mandou o arrieiro parar e então chamou as crianças para indagar se estava perto de Montigny; mas a distância, e o bramido das águas, não permitiram que sua voz fosse ouvida; e os rochedos junto à ponte eram de altura e escarpamento tão tremendos que escalar qualquer um deles seria dificilmente praticável a uma pessoa desconhecedora da subida. St. Aubert, portanto, não desperdiçou mais momentos em demora. Continuaram a viajar muito depois que o crepúsculo obscurecera a estrada, que estava tão esburacada que, julgando agora mais seguro caminhar do que ir montados, todos apearam. A lua nascia, mas sua luz era ainda demasiado débil para ajudá-los. Enquanto pisavam com cuidado, ouviram o sino de vésperas de um convento. O crepúsculo não lhes permitia distinguir coisa alguma parecida com um edifício, mas os sons pareciam vir de uns bosques que pendiam sobre um aclive à direita. Valancourt propôs ir em busca desse convento. 'Se não nos quiserem acomodar com um pouso por uma noite', disse ele, 'poderão certamente informar-nos a que distância estamos de Montigny, e encaminhar-nos para lá.' Já se lançava adiante, sem esperar a resposta de St. Aubert, quando este o deteve. 'Estou muito cansado', disse St. Aubert, 'e nada desejo tanto quanto repouso imediato. Iremos todos ao convento; vosso bom aspecto frustraria nosso intento; mas, quando virem os semblantes exaustos meu e de Emily, dificilmente nos negarão descanso.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ao dizer isso, ele segurou o braço de Emily e disse a Michael para esperar na estrada com a carruagem. Depois começaram a subir em direção ao bosque, guiados pelo som do sino do convento. Os passos de St. Aubert estavam fracos, e Valancourt ofereceu seu braço, que ele aceitou. A lua agora dava uma luz fraca, e logo puderam ver torres se erguendo acima do topo das árvores. Ainda seguindo o sino, entraram na sombra das árvores. Apenas a luz da lua passava pelas folhas, dando uma luz trêmula e incerta ao caminho íngreme. A escuridão, o silêncio e a paisagem selvagem assustaram um pouco Emily, embora a voz e a conversa de Valancourt ajudassem a acalmá-la. Depois de subir por algum tempo, St. Aubert disse que estava cansado, e pararam para descansar em um pequeno morro verde, onde as árvores se abriam e deixavam entrar a luz da lua. Ele se sentou na grama entre Emily e Valancourt. O sino tinha parado, e a cena estava muito quieta. Só se ouvia o som baixo de cachoeiras distantes, que parecia somar-se à paz, em vez de quebrá-la.

Original English

As he said this, he took Emily's arm within his, and, telling Michael to wait awhile in the road with the carriage, they began to ascend towards the woods, guided by the bell of the convent. His steps were feeble, and Valancourt offered him his arm, which he accepted. The moon now threw a faint light over their path, and, soon after, enabled them to distinguish some towers rising above the tops of the woods. Still following the note of the bell, they entered the shade of those woods, lighted only by the moonbeams, that glided down between the leaves, and threw a tremulous uncertain gleam upon the steep track they were winding. The gloom and the silence that prevailed, except when the bell returned upon the air, together with the wildness of the surrounding scene, struck Emily with a degree of fear, which, however, the voice and conversation of Valancourt somewhat repressed. When they had been some time ascending, St. Aubert complained of weariness, and they stopped to rest upon a little green summit, where the trees opened, and admitted the moon-light. He sat down upon the turf, between Emily and Valancourt. The bell had now ceased, and the deep repose of the scene was undisturbed by any sound, for the low dull murmur of some distant torrents might be said to sooth, rather than to interrupt, the silence.

Original Português

Ao dizer isto, tomou o braço de Emily sob o seu e, dizendo a Michael que esperasse um pouco na estrada com a carruagem, começaram a subir rumo aos bosques, guiados pelo sino do convento. Seus passos eram débeis, e Valancourt ofereceu-lhe o braço, que ele aceitou. A lua lançava agora uma luz tênue sobre seu caminho e, logo depois, permitiu-lhes distinguir algumas torres erguendo-se acima dos cimos dos bosques. Seguindo ainda o toque do sino, entraram na sombra daqueles bosques, iluminados apenas pelos raios da lua, que deslizavam por entre as folhas e lançavam um clarão trêmulo e incerto sobre a íngreme trilha que iam galgando. A escuridão e o silêncio que ali reinavam, exceto quando o sino retornava pelo ar, juntamente com a agreste solidão da cena ao redor, incutiram em Emily certo grau de medo que, contudo, a voz e a conversa de Valancourt de algum modo reprimiam. Depois de subirem por algum tempo, St. Aubert queixou-se de cansaço, e pararam para descansar sobre um pequeno cume verdejante, onde as árvores se abriam e admitiam o luar. Sentou-se sobre a relva, entre Emily e Valancourt. O sino cessara agora, e o profundo repouso da cena não era perturbado por som algum, pois o baixo e surdo murmúrio de algumas torrentes distantes bem se poderia dizer que aplacava, mais do que interrompia, o silêncio.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Diante deles se estendia o vale que tinham deixado para trás. Suas rochas e bosques à esquerda eram tocados pela luz prateada da lua, enquanto os penhascos do outro lado estavam em sombra profunda, com apenas os topos iluminados. Ao longe, o vale desaparecia na névoa amarelada da lua. Os viajantes ficaram sentados por um tempo, tomados pelo prazer tranquilo que cenas assim proporcionam.

Original English

Before them, extended the valley they had quitted; its rocks, and woods to the left, just silvered by the rays, formed a contrast to the deep shadow, that involved the opposite cliffs, whose fringed summits only were tipped with light; while the distant perspective of the valley was lost in the yellow mist of moon-light. The travellers sat for some time wrapt in the complacency which such scenes inspire.

Original Português

Diante deles estendia-se o vale que haviam deixado; suas rochas e bosques à esquerda, apenas prateados pelos raios, formavam um contraste com a sombra profunda que envolvia as escarpas opostas, cujos cumes orlados só de leve se tocavam de luz; enquanto a distante perspectiva do vale se perdia na amarela bruma do luar. Os viajantes permaneceram sentados por algum tempo, absortos na complacência que tais cenas inspiram.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Essas paisagens", disse Valancourt por fim, "suavizam o coração como uma música doce, e trazem uma tristeza maravilhosa que ninguém que já a sentiu trocaria pelos prazeres mais felizes. Elas despertam nossos melhores e mais puros sentimentos e nos tornam mais gentis, mais suaves e mais amigáveis. As pessoas que eu amo... sempre pareço amá-las mais em um momento como este." Sua voz tremeu, e ele parou de falar.

Original English

'These scenes,'said Valancourt, at length, 'soften the heart, like the notes of sweet music, and inspire that delicious melancholy which no person, who had felt it once, would resign for the gayest pleasures. They waken our best and purest feelings, disposing us to benevolence, pity, and friendship. Those whom I love - I always seem to love more in such an hour as this.'His voice trembled, and he paused.

Original Português

'Estas cenas', disse Valancourt, por fim, 'abrandam o coração, como as notas de uma doce música, e inspiram aquela deliciosa melancolia que ninguém, tendo-a sentido uma vez, trocaria pelos mais alegres prazeres. Despertam nossos sentimentos melhores e mais puros, dispondo-nos à benevolência, à piedade e à amizade. Aqueles a quem amo - sempre me parece amá-los mais numa hora como esta.' Sua voz tremeu, e ele fez uma pausa.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert não disse nada. Emily viu uma lágrima quente cair sobre a mão que ele segurava. Ela sabia em quem ele estava pensando, e ela mesma também vinha pensando em sua mãe havia algum tempo. Ele pareceu fazer um esforço para se controlar. "Sim", disse ele com um suspiro quase contido, "a lembrança daqueles que amamos, e dos tempos já passados, vem à mente numa hora como esta, como uma música distante na quietude da noite... suave e em harmonia com esta paisagem, repousando sob a luz macia da lua." Depois de um momento, St. Aubert acrescentou: "Sempre achei que entendo as coisas com mais clareza numa hora assim do que em qualquer outra, e qualquer coração que não se suavize sob essa influência deve ser frio. Mas existem muitos corações assim."

Original English

St. Aubert was silent; Emily perceived a warm tear fall upon the hand he held; she knew the object of his thoughts; hers too had, for some time, been occupied by the remembrance of her mother. He seemed by an effort to rouse himself. 'Yes,'said he, with an half-suppressed sigh, 'the memory of those we love - of times for ever past! in such an hour as this steals upon the mind, like a strain of distant music in the stillness of night; - all tender and harmonious as this landscape, sleeping in the mellow moon-light.'After the pause of a moment, St. Aubert added, 'I have always fancied, that I thought with more clearness, and precision, at such an hour than at any other, and that heart must be insensible in a great degree, that does not soften to its influence. But many such there are.'

Original Português

St. Aubert calou-se; Emily percebeu uma lágrima quente cair sobre a mão que ele lhe segurava; ela sabia o objeto de seus pensamentos; os dela também, havia algum tempo, estavam ocupados com a lembrança de sua mãe. Ele pareceu, por um esforço, reanimar-se. 'Sim', disse ele, com um suspiro meio contido, 'a memória daqueles que amamos - de tempos para sempre passados! - numa hora como esta insinua-se na mente, como uma melodia de música distante na quietude da noite; - toda terna e harmoniosa como esta paisagem, adormecida no suave luar.' Após a pausa de um instante, St. Aubert acrescentou: 'Sempre imaginei que pensava com mais clareza e precisão numa hora dessas do que em qualquer outra, e que insensível em grande medida há de ser o coração que não se abranda sob sua influência. Mas muitos há assim.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Valancourt suspirou.

"Existem mesmo muitos assim?" disse Emily.

Original English

Valancourt sighed.

'Are there, indeed, many such?'said Emily.

Original Português

Valancourt suspirou.

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Original Português

'Há, de fato, muitos assim?', disse Emily.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Em poucos anos, minha Emily", respondeu St. Aubert, "você talvez sorria ao se lembrar dessa pergunta, se não chorar por causa dela. Mas venha, já me sinto um pouco melhor agora. Vamos continuar."

Original English

'A few years hence, my Emily,'replied St. Aubert, 'and you may smile at the recollection of that question - if you do not weep to it. But come, I am somewhat refreshed, let us proceed.'

Original Português

'Daqui a alguns anos, minha Emily', respondeu St. Aubert, 'e talvez sorrias à lembrança dessa pergunta - se por ela não chorares. Mas vamos, sinto-me um tanto revigorado, prossigamos.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de saírem do bosque, viram o convento que procuravam em uma colina gramada acima deles. Um muro alto o cercava, e chegaram a um antigo portão e bateram. Um humilde monge o abriu e os levou a uma pequena sala ali perto, onde pediu que esperassem enquanto avisava o superior sobre o pedido deles. Enquanto esperavam, vários frades vieram, um a um, olhar para eles. Por fim o primeiro monge voltou, e foram com ele até a sala onde o superior estava sentado em uma poltrona. Um grande livro antigo estava aberto diante dele. Ele os cumprimentou com educação, embora não tenha se levantado, e depois de fazer algumas perguntas, atendeu ao pedido deles. Depois de uma breve conversa, formal e solene da parte do superior, foram até a sala onde iriam jantar. Valancourt, depois que um dos frades mais jovens gentilmente o convidou, foi procurar Michael e as mulas. Antes de terem descido metade do caminho pelos penhascos, ouviram a voz do condutor de mulas ecoando por toda parte. Às vezes ele chamava por St. Aubert, às vezes por Valancourt. Depois de convencê-lo de que nem ele nem seu patrão estavam em perigo, deixaram-no para passar a noite em uma casa na beira do bosque. Depois voltaram para jantar com seus amigos, com uma comida simples que os monges julgavam segura o bastante para oferecer. St. Aubert estava fraco demais para comer com eles, e Emily, preocupada com o pai, esquecia-se de si mesma. Valancourt ficou quieto e pensativo, mas os observava com cuidado e fazia tudo o que podia para ajudar St. Aubert. Emily insistia para que o pai comesse e ajeitava a almofada atrás da poltrona dele, e St. Aubert percebeu que Valancourt frequentemente olhava para ela com uma ternura triste, o que ele não lamentava compreender.

Original English

Having emerged from the woods, they saw, upon a turfy hillock above, the convent of which they were in search. A high wall, that surrounded it, led them to an ancient gate, at which they knocked; and the poor monk, who opened it, conducted them into a small adjoining room, where he desired they would wait while he informed the superior of their request. In this interval, several friars came in separately to look at them; and at length the first monk returned, and they followed him to a room, where the superior was sitting in an arm-chair, with a large folio volume, printed in black letter, open on a desk before him. He received them with courtesy, though he did not rise from his seat; and, having asked them a few questions, granted their request. After a short conversation, formal and solemn on the part of the superior, they withdrew to the apartment where they were to sup, and Valancourt, whom one of the inferior friars civilly desired to accompany, went to seek Michael and his mules. They had not descended half way down the cliffs, before they heard the voice of the muleteer echoing far and wide. Sometimes he called on St. Aubert, and sometimes on Valancourt; who having, at length, convinced him that he had nothing to fear either for himself, or his master; and having disposed of him, for the night, in a cottage on the skirts of the woods, returned to sup with his friends, on such sober fare as the monks thought it prudent to set before them. While St. Aubert was too much indisposed to share it, Emily, in her anxiety for her father, forgot herself; and Valancourt, silent and thoughtful, yet never inattentive to them, appeared particularly solicitous to accommodate and relieve St. Aubert, who often observed, while his daughter was pressing him to eat, or adjusting the pillow she had placed in the back of his arm-chair, that Valancourt fixed on her a look of pensive tenderness, which he was not displeased to understand.

Original Português

Tendo saído dos bosques, viram, sobre um outeiro relvado acima, o convento que procuravam. Um alto muro que o cercava conduziu-os a um antigo portão, ao qual bateram; e o pobre monge que o abriu conduziu-os a um pequeno cômodo adjacente, onde pediu que aguardassem enquanto informava o superior de seu pedido. Nesse ínterim, vários frades entraram, um a um, para vê-los; e por fim o primeiro monge voltou, e eles o seguiram até uma sala onde o superior estava sentado numa poltrona, com um grande volume in-fólio, impresso em letra gótica, aberto numa escrivaninha diante dele. Recebeu-os com cortesia, embora não se levantasse de seu assento; e, tendo-lhes feito algumas perguntas, atendeu a seu pedido. Após breve conversa, formal e solene da parte do superior, retiraram-se para o aposento onde iriam cear, e Valancourt, a quem um dos frades inferiores gentilmente pediu que o acompanhasse, foi buscar Michael e suas mulas. Não haviam descido metade das escarpas quando ouviram a voz do arrieiro ecoando por toda parte. Ora chamava por St. Aubert, ora por Valancourt; o qual, tendo por fim convencido-o de que nada tinha a temer, nem por si, nem por seu amo; e tendo-o acomodado, pela noite, numa cabana nas orlas dos bosques, voltou para cear com seus amigos, da parca comida que os monges julgaram prudente pôr-lhes diante. Enquanto St. Aubert estava por demais indisposto para partilhá-la, Emily, em sua ansiedade pelo pai, esquecia-se de si mesma; e Valancourt, silencioso e pensativo, mas nunca desatento para com eles, mostrava-se particularmente solícito em acomodar e aliviar St. Aubert, que amiúde observava, enquanto a filha o instava a comer, ou ajeitava o travesseiro que lhe pusera no encosto da poltrona, que Valancourt fixava nela um olhar de pensativa ternura, o qual não lhe desagradava compreender.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Logo se separaram e foram para seus quartos. Uma freira do convento acompanhou Emily até o dela, e Emily ficou aliviada quando ela se retirou, pois se sentia triste e não suportava conversar com uma estranha. Ela achava que seu pai estava ficando mais fraco a cada dia, e acreditava que o cansaço dele vinha mais de seu corpo debilitado do que da viagem difícil. Pensamentos sombrios ficaram com ela até que ela adormeceu.

Original English

They separated at an early hour, and retired to their respective apartments. Emily was shown to hers by a nun of the convent, whom she was glad to dismiss, for her heart was melancholy, and her attention so much abstracted, that conversation with a stranger was painful. She thought her father daily declining, and attributed his present fatigue more to the feeble state of his frame, than to the difficulty of the journey. A train of gloomy ideas haunted her mind, till she fell asleep.

Original Português

Separaram-se cedo e retiraram-se cada qual a seus respectivos aposentos. Emily foi conduzida ao seu por uma freira do convento, de quem ficou contente por despedir-se, pois seu coração estava melancólico, e sua atenção tão distraída que conversar com uma estranha lhe era penoso. Julgava o pai a declinar dia a dia, e atribuía sua fadiga atual mais ao estado débil de sua constituição do que à dificuldade da jornada. Uma sucessão de ideias sombrias assombrou-lhe a mente, até que adormeceu.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Cerca de duas horas depois, ela acordou com o som de um sino e ouviu passos rápidos no corredor fora do quarto. Como não estava acostumada à vida no convento, isso a assustou. Ela sempre temia pelo pai, então pensou que ele pudesse estar muito doente e se levantou depressa para ir até ele. Mas antes de abrir a porta, esperou para deixar as pessoas do corredor passarem. Nesse tempo, sua mente clareou depois do sono, e ela entendeu que o sino tinha chamado os monges para as orações. Tudo ficou quieto de novo, então ela não foi até o quarto de St. Aubert. Ela ainda não estava pronta para dormir de novo, e a luz da lua em seu quarto a fez abrir a janela e olhar para a paisagem lá fora.

Original English

In about two hours after, she was awakened by the chiming of a bell, and then heard quick steps pass along the gallery, into which her chamber opened. She was so little accustomed to the manners of a convent, as to be alarmed by this circumstance; her fears, ever alive for her father, suggested that he was very ill, and she rose in haste to go to him. Having paused, however, to let the persons in the gallery pass before she opened her door, her thoughts, in the mean time, recovered from the confusion of sleep, and she understood that the bell was the call of the monks to prayers. It had now ceased, and, all being again still, she forbore to go to St. Aubert's room. Her mind was not disposed for immediate sleep, and the moon-light, that shone into her chamber, invited her to open the casement, and look out upon the country.

Original Português

Cerca de duas horas depois, foi despertada pelo repicar de um sino, e então ouviu passos rápidos percorrerem a galeria para a qual dava seu quarto. Estava tão pouco acostumada aos costumes de um convento que se alarmou com essa circunstância; seus temores, sempre vívidos pelo pai, sugeriram-lhe que ele estava muito mal, e ela se levantou às pressas para ir ter com ele. Tendo feito uma pausa, contudo, para deixar passar as pessoas na galeria antes de abrir a porta, seus pensamentos, nesse ínterim, recobraram-se da confusão do sono, e ela compreendeu que o sino era o chamado dos monges à oração. Cessara agora e, tornando tudo de novo ao silêncio, absteve-se de ir ao quarto de St. Aubert. Seu espírito não estava disposto ao sono imediato, e o luar, que penetrava em seu quarto, convidou-a a abrir a janela e a olhar para fora, sobre a região.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Era uma noite calma e bonita. O céu estava limpo, e quase nenhuma folha se movia no ar, nos bosques lá embaixo. Enquanto ela escutava, o hino da meia-noite dos monges se elevava suavemente de uma capela em um dos penhascos mais baixos. Era um som sagrado, que parecia subir através da noite até o céu, e os pensamentos dela se elevaram junto com ele. Pensando nas obras de Deus, ela passou a adorar Sua bondade e Seu poder. Onde quer que olhasse, fosse para a terra adormecida ou para o vasto espaço cheio de mundos além da compreensão humana, ela sentia a grandeza e a presença de Deus. Seus olhos se encheram de lágrimas de admiração e amor reverente. Ela sentiu uma devoção pura, acima de todas as crenças humanas, uma devoção que eleva a alma acima deste mundo e parece dar-lhe uma natureza mais nobre. Essa devoção só pode ser sentida quando a mente se liberta por um instante das preocupações terrenas e se volta para o poder de Deus na grandeza de Suas obras e para Sua bondade em Seus inúmeros dons.

Original English

It was a still and beautiful night, the sky was unobscured by any cloud, and scarce a leaf of the woods beneath trembled in the air. As she listened, the mid-night hymn of the monks rose softly from a chapel, that stood on one of the lower cliffs, an holy strain, that seemed to ascend through the silence of night to heaven, and her thoughts ascended with it. From the consideration of His works, her mind arose to the adoration of the Deity, in His goodness and power; wherever she turned her view, whether on the sleeping earth, or to the vast regions of space, glowing with worlds beyond the reach of human thought, the sublimity of God, and the majesty of His presence appeared. Her eyes were filled with tears of awful love and admiration; and she felt that pure devotion, superior to all the distinctions of human system, which lifts the soul above this world, and seems to expand it into a nobler nature; such devotion as can, perhaps, only be experienced, when the mind, rescued, for a moment, from the humbleness of earthly considerations, aspires to contemplate His power in the sublimity of His works, and His goodness in the infinity of His blessings.

Original Português

Era uma noite serena e bela, o céu não estava obscurecido por nuvem alguma, e mal uma folha dos bosques abaixo tremia no ar. Enquanto escutava, o hino da meia-noite dos monges elevou-se suavemente de uma capela que se erguia numa das escarpas mais baixas, um cântico sagrado que parecia ascender, através do silêncio da noite, até o céu, e seus pensamentos ascenderam com ele. Da consideração de Suas obras, sua mente ergueu-se à adoração da Divindade, em Sua bondade e poder; para onde quer que voltasse o olhar, fosse para a terra adormecida, fosse para as vastas regiões do espaço, resplandecentes de mundos além do alcance do pensamento humano, apareciam a sublimidade de Deus e a majestade de Sua presença. Seus olhos encheram-se de lágrimas de temível amor e admiração; e ela sentiu aquela devoção pura, superior a todas as distinções dos sistemas humanos, que ergue a alma acima deste mundo e parece dilatá-la numa natureza mais nobre; tal devoção como talvez só se possa experimentar quando a mente, resgatada, por um instante, da baixeza das considerações terrenas, aspira a contemplar Seu poder na sublimidade de Suas obras, e Sua bondade na infinitude de Suas bênçãos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Não é esta agora a hora, a hora sagrada, em que a lua cheia sobe pelo céu estrelado e dá um sinal a este mundo silencioso de que a religião deve falar ao ouvido atento do céu? Até um bebê sabe disso. Se despertado por acaso, ele ergue suas mãozinhas para os deuses e pede uma bênção sobre seu leito inocente.* *Caractacus

Original English

Is it not now the hour, The holy hour, when to the cloudless height Of yon starred concave climbs the full-orbed moon, And to this nether world in solemn stillness, Gives sign, that, to the list'ning ear of Heaven Religion's voice should plead? The very babe Knows this, and, chance awak'd, his little hands Lifts to the gods, and on his innocent couch Calls down a blessing.* *Caractacus

Original Português

Não é esta agora a hora, A hora sagrada, em que, à altura sem nuvens Daquela abóbada estrelada, ascende a lua em seu pleno orbe, E a este mundo inferior, em solene quietude, Dá sinal de que, ao ouvido atento do Céu, Deve suplicar a voz da Religião? Até o menino O sabe e, por acaso desperto, ergue as pequeninas mãos Aos deuses, e sobre seu leito inocente Invoca uma bênção.* *Caractacus

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B1 Português (simplified)

Pouco depois, o cântico da meia-noite dos monges terminou em silêncio. Mas Emily continuou junto à janela, observando a lua se pôr e o vale escurecer, desejando manter aquele estado de paz por mais um pouco. Por fim, voltou para seu colchão e caiu num sono tranquilo.

Original English

The midnight chant of the monks soon after dropped into silence; but Emily remained at the casement, watching the setting moon, and the valley sinking into deep shade, and willing to prolong her present state of mind. At length she retired to her mattress, and sunk into tranquil slumber.

Original Português

O cântico da meia-noite dos monges logo depois esvaiu-se em silêncio; mas Emily permaneceu à janela, observando a lua a poente, e o vale a afundar em sombra profunda, desejosa de prolongar seu presente estado de espírito. Por fim, recolheu-se ao seu colchão e mergulhou num sono tranquilo.

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While in the rosy vale Love breath'd his infant sighs, from anguish free. Thomson

B1 Português (simplified)

Depois que uma noite de descanso o deixou bem o suficiente para viajar, St. Aubert partiu de manhã com sua família e Valancourt em direção a Rousillon, aonde esperava chegar antes de anoitecer. A região por onde passavam era tão selvagem e romântica quanto qualquer outra que já tinham visto, mas a beleza muitas vezes a suavizava. Pequenos trechos arborizados apareciam entre as montanhas, verdes e floridos. Ou um vale pastoril se abria entre os penhascos, com rebanhos descansando junto a um riacho que o mantinha fresco e verde. St. Aubert não se arrependeu de ter escolhido aquela estrada difícil, embora naquele dia tivesse muitas vezes que descer e caminhar por rochas íngremes e subir montanhas escarpadas. A beleza e a variedade maravilhosas das paisagens o recompensavam. O entusiasmo de seus jovens companheiros também aumentava seus próprios sentimentos e trazia de volta a alegria de sua juventude, quando a beleza sublime da natureza se revelou a ele pela primeira vez. Ele gostava de conversar com Valancourt e de ouvir seus comentários sinceros. O entusiasmo e os modos simples de Valancourt faziam com que ele se encaixasse bem nas paisagens ao redor, e St. Aubert via em seus pensamentos o bom senso e a dignidade de uma mente nobre, ainda não corrompida pelo mundo. Ele percebia que as opiniões de Valancourt eram formadas por reflexão própria, não por imitação dos outros nem por muito estudo. Valancourt parecia saber pouco sobre o mundo, pois pensava bem de todo mundo, e essa crença refletia a bondade de seu próprio coração.

Original English

St. Aubert, sufficiently restored by a night's repose to pursue his journey, set out in the morning, with his family and Valancourt, for Rousillon, which he hoped to reach before night-fall. The scenes, through which they now passed, were as wild and romantic, as any they had yet observed, with this difference, that beauty, every now and then, softened the landscape into smiles. Little woody recesses appeared among the mountains, covered with bright verdure and flowers; or a pastoral valley opened its grassy bosom in the shade of the cliffs, with flocks and herds loitering along the banks of a rivulet, that refreshed it with perpetual green. St. Aubert could not repent the having taken this fatiguing road, though he was this day, also, frequently obliged to alight, to walk along the rugged precipice, and to climb the steep and flinty mountain. The wonderful sublimity and variety of the prospects repaid him for all this, and the enthusiasm, with which they were viewed by his young companions, heightened his own, and awakened a remembrance of all the delightful emotions of his early days, when the sublime charms of nature were first unveiled to him. He found great pleasure in conversing with Valancourt, and in listening to his ingenuous remarks. The fire and simplicity of his manners seemed to render him a characteristic figure in the scenes around them; and St. Aubert discovered in his sentiments the justness and the dignity of an elevated mind, unbiased by intercourse with the world. He perceived, that his opinions were formed, rather than imbibed; were more the result of thought, than of learning. Of the world he seemed to know nothing; for he believed well of all mankind, and this opinion gave him the reflected image of his own heart.

Original Português

St. Aubert, suficientemente restabelecido por uma noite de repouso para prosseguir viagem, partiu pela manhã, com sua família e Valancourt, rumo ao Rossilhão, que esperava alcançar antes do anoitecer. As cenas por que passavam agora eram tão agrestes e românticas quanto quaisquer que houvessem observado até então, com esta diferença: que a beleza, vez por outra, abrandava a paisagem em sorrisos. Pequenos recantos arborizados apareciam entre as montanhas, cobertos de vívido verdor e flores; ou um vale pastoril abria seu seio relvado à sombra das escarpas, com rebanhos e manadas a vaguear pelas margens de um riacho que o refrescava com perpétuo verde. St. Aubert não podia arrepender-se de haver tomado essa fatigante estrada, embora também nesse dia se visse frequentemente obrigado a apear, a caminhar ao longo do acidentado precipício e a escalar a íngreme e pedregosa montanha. A maravilhosa sublimidade e variedade das paisagens recompensavam-no de tudo isso, e o entusiasmo com que eram contempladas por seus jovens companheiros realçava o seu próprio e despertava a lembrança de todas as deliciosas emoções de seus primeiros anos, quando os sublimes encantos da natureza pela primeira vez se lhe descortinaram. Encontrava grande prazer em conversar com Valancourt e em escutar suas ingênuas observações. O fogo e a simplicidade de suas maneiras pareciam torná-lo uma figura característica das cenas ao redor deles; e St. Aubert descobria em seus sentimentos a justeza e a dignidade de um espírito elevado, não enviesado pelo trato com o mundo. Percebia que suas opiniões eram formadas, mais do que assimiladas; eram mais o resultado do pensamento do que do estudo. Do mundo parecia nada saber; pois tinha boa opinião de toda a humanidade, e essa opinião dava-lhe a imagem refletida de seu próprio coração.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Às vezes St. Aubert parava para observar as plantas selvagens à beira do caminho, e depois olhava à frente, com prazer, para Emily e Valancourt caminhando juntos. Valancourt, cheio de energia e alegria, apontava para ela alguma parte grandiosa da paisagem. Emily escutava e olhava com uma seriedade suave, mostrando a grandeza de sua mente. Pareciam dois namorados que nunca tivessem ido além daquelas montanhas onde tinham nascido. Suas vidas os haviam mantido longe das tolices da sociedade comum. Seus pensamentos eram simples e grandiosos, como as paisagens ao redor, e eles não conheciam outra felicidade além da união de corações puros e afetuosos. St. Aubert sorria e suspirava diante do quadro encantador que sua imaginação criava, e suspirava de novo porque o mundo conhecia tão pouco a natureza e a simplicidade que chamava as alegrias deles de românticas.

Original English

St. Aubert, as he sometimes lingered to examine the wild plants in his path, often looked forward with pleasure to Emily and Valancourt, as they strolled on together; he, with a countenance of animated delight, pointing to her attention some grand feature of the scene; and she, listening and observing with a look of tender seriousness, that spoke the elevation of her mind. They appeared like two lovers who had never strayed beyond these their native mountains; whose situation had secluded them from the frivolities of common life, whose ideas were simple and grand, like the landscapes among which they moved, and who knew no other happiness, than in the union of pure and affectionate hearts. St. Aubert smiled, and sighed at the romantic picture of felicity his fancy drew; and sighed again to think, that nature and simplicity were so little known to the world, as that their pleasures were thought romantic.

Original Português

St. Aubert, enquanto às vezes se demorava a examinar as plantas silvestres em seu caminho, olhava amiúde com prazer para Emily e Valancourt, que passeavam juntos adiante; ele, com um semblante de animado deleite, apontando à atenção dela algum grandioso aspecto da cena; e ela, escutando e observando com um ar de terna seriedade que revelava a elevação de seu espírito. Pareciam dois enamorados que nunca haviam vagado além daquelas suas montanhas natais; cuja situação os apartara das frivolidades da vida comum, cujas ideias eram simples e grandiosas, como as paisagens em meio às quais se moviam, e que não conheciam outra felicidade senão na união de corações puros e afetuosos. St. Aubert sorriu, e suspirou, ante o romântico quadro de felicidade que sua fantasia traçava; e suspirou de novo ao pensar que a natureza e a simplicidade eram tão pouco conhecidas do mundo que seus prazeres eram tidos por românticos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"O mundo", disse ele, continuando seus pensamentos, "ri de um sentimento que raramente tem. Suas cenas e seus interesses perturbam a mente, estragam o bom gosto e corrompem o coração. O amor não pode viver num coração que perdeu a suave dignidade da inocência. Virtude e bom gosto são quase a mesma coisa, pois a virtude é, em grande parte, o bom gosto em ação, e os sentimentos mais nobres de ambos se unem no verdadeiro amor. Então, como podemos esperar encontrar amor nas grandes cidades, onde o egoísmo, a busca pelo prazer e a falsidade tomam o lugar da ternura, da simplicidade e da verdade?"

Original English

'The world,'said he, pursuing this train of thought, 'ridicules a passion which it seldom feels; its scenes, and its interests, distract the mind, deprave the taste, corrupt the heart, and love cannot exist in a heart that has lost the meek dignity of innocence. Virtue and taste are nearly the same, for virtue is little more than active taste, and the most delicate affections of each combine in real love. How then are we to look for love in great cities, where selfishness, dissipation, and insincerity supply the place of tenderness, simplicity and truth?'

Original Português

'O mundo', disse ele, prosseguindo nessa linha de pensamento, 'ridiculariza uma paixão que raramente sente; suas cenas, e seus interesses, distraem a mente, depravam o gosto, corrompem o coração, e o amor não pode existir num coração que perdeu a mansa dignidade da inocência. A virtude e o gosto são quase a mesma coisa, pois a virtude é pouco mais do que um gosto ativo, e os mais delicados afetos de cada um se combinam no amor verdadeiro. Como, então, havemos de buscar o amor nas grandes cidades, onde o egoísmo, a dissipação e a falsidade tomam o lugar da ternura, da simplicidade e da verdade?'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Era quase meio-dia quando os viajantes chegaram a uma estrada íngreme e perigosa, e desceram para caminhar. A estrada subia uma colina arborizada, e, em vez de seguir a carruagem, eles entraram na sombra fresca. O ar estava fresco e úmido. Uma grama verde e brilhante crescia sob as árvores, e flores, erva-cidreira, tomilho e lavanda enchiam o ar com um cheiro doce. Pinheiros altos, faias e castanheiras se erguiam acima deles e tornavam o lugar muito encantador. Às vezes, a folhagem densa bloqueava toda a vista da região. Em outros momentos, deixavam ver rapidamente a paisagem distante, o que fazia os viajantes imaginar cenas ainda mais bonitas do que aquelas que conseguiam ver. Eles paravam com frequência para aproveitar esses devaneios.

Original English

It was near noon, when the travellers, having arrived at a piece of steep and dangerous road, alighted to walk. The road wound up an ascent, that was clothed with wood, and, instead of following the carriage, they entered the refreshing shade. A dewy coolness was diffused upon the air, which, with the bright verdure of turf, that grew under the trees, the mingled fragrance of flowers and of balm, thyme, and lavender, that enriched it, and the grandeur of the pines, beech, and chestnuts, that overshadowed them, rendered this a most delicious retreat. Sometimes, the thick foliage excluded all view of the country; at others, it admitted some partial catches of the distant scenery, which gave hints to the imagination to picture landscapes more interesting, more impressive, than any that had been presented to the eye. The wanderers often lingered to indulge in these reveries of fancy.

Original Português

Era quase meio-dia quando os viajantes, tendo chegado a um trecho de estrada íngreme e perigoso, apearam para caminhar. A estrada subia serpenteando por um aclive revestido de mata e, em vez de seguir a carruagem, entraram na sombra refrescante. Uma frescura orvalhada difundia-se pelo ar, o que, com o vívido verdor da relva que crescia sob as árvores, a mesclada fragrância de flores e de melissa, tomilho e alfazema que o enriquecia, e a grandeza dos pinheiros, faias e castanheiros que os sombreavam, tornava aquele um retiro deliciosíssimo. Às vezes, a densa folhagem excluía toda vista da região; outras, admitia alguns vislumbres parciais do cenário distante, que davam à imaginação sugestões para pintar paisagens mais interessantes, mais impressionantes do que quaisquer que se houvessem apresentado ao olho. Os viandantes demoravam-se amiúde a entregar-se a esses devaneios da fantasia.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Havia mais pausas silenciosas do que nunca, naquele dia, nas conversas entre Valancourt e Emily. Valancourt muitas vezes mudava de repente de uma conversa animada para um pensamento profundo. Às vezes, seu sorriso mostrava uma tristeza verdadeira. Emily não conseguia deixar de entender isso, pois seu coração era tocado pelo que aquele sorriso dizia.

Original English

The pauses of silence, such as had formerly interrupted the conversations of Valancourt and Emily, were more frequent today than ever. Valancourt often dropped suddenly from the most animating vivacity into fits of deep musing, and there was, sometimes, an unaffected melancholy in his smile, which Emily could not avoid understanding, for her heart was interested in the sentiment it spoke.

Original Português

As pausas de silêncio, tais como as que outrora haviam interrompido as conversas de Valancourt e Emily, eram hoje mais frequentes do que nunca. Valancourt amiúde despencava subitamente da mais animadora vivacidade para acessos de profunda cismação, e havia, às vezes, uma melancolia despretensiosa em seu sorriso, que Emily não podia deixar de compreender, pois seu coração se interessava pelo sentimento que ele exprimia.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert se sentiu revigorado pela sombra, e continuaram caminhando sob as árvores, seguindo a estrada da melhor forma que conseguiam adivinhar. Logo perceberam que a tinham perdido por completo. Tinham ficado perto da beira de um penhasco, porque a vista era tão bonita, enquanto a estrada tinha ficado bem longe, acima deles. Valancourt chamou Michael em voz alta, mas só ouviu o eco da própria voz entre as rochas. Tentou várias vezes encontrar a estrada, mas não conseguiu. Então avistaram, a certa distância, a cabana de um pastor entre os troncos das árvores, e Valancourt correu na frente para pedir ajuda. Quando chegou lá, encontrou apenas duas crianças pequenas brincando do lado de fora. Ele olhou para dentro, mas não havia ninguém. O menino mais velho disse que o pai estava com as ovelhas, e a mãe tinha descido até o vale, mas logo voltaria. Enquanto Valancourt pensava no que fazer, de repente ouviu a voz forte de Michael chamando lá do alto dos penhascos. Respondeu na hora e abriu caminho pelos arbustos e pelo terreno íngreme em direção ao som. Depois de uma dura luta contra espinheiros e pedras, chegou até Michael e finalmente conseguiu fazê-lo parar e escutar. A estrada ficava longe de onde estavam St. Aubert e Emily. A carruagem não podia voltar facilmente até a beira do bosque, e St. Aubert estava cansado demais para subir a estrada longa e íngreme até lá. Por isso, Valancourt queria encontrar um caminho mais fácil para subir, pelo mesmo trajeto que ele tinha percorrido.

Original English

St. Aubert was refreshed by the shades, and they continued to saunter under them, following, as nearly as they could guess, the direction of the road, till they perceived that they had totally lost it. They had continued near the brow of the precipice, allured by the scenery it exhibited, while the road wound far away over the cliff above. Valancourt called loudly to Michael, but heard no voice, except his own, echoing among the rocks, and his various efforts to regain the road were equally unsuccessful. While they were thus circumstanced, they perceived a shepherd's cabin, between the boles of the trees at some distance, and Valancourt bounded on first to ask assistance. When he reached it, he saw only two little children, at play, on the turf before the door. He looked into the hut, but no person was there, and the eldest of the boys told him that their father was with his flocks, and their mother was gone down into the vale, but would be back presently. As he stood, considering what was further to be done, on a sudden he heard Michael's voice roaring forth most manfully among the cliffs above, till he made their echoes ring. Valancourt immediately answered the call, and endeavoured to make his way through the thicket that clothed the steeps, following the direction of the sound. After much struggle over brambles and precipices, he reached Michael, and at length prevailed with him to be silent, and to listen to him. The road was at a considerable distance from the spot where St. Aubert and Emily were; the carriage could not easily return to the entrance of the wood, and, since it would be very fatiguing for St. Aubert to climb the long and steep road to the place where it now stood, Valancourt was anxious to find a more easy ascent, by the way he had himself passed.

Original Português

St. Aubert estava revigorado pelas sombras, e continuaram a passear sob elas, seguindo, tão de perto quanto podiam adivinhar, a direção da estrada, até que perceberam tê-la perdido por completo. Haviam permanecido perto da borda do precipício, atraídos pelo cenário que ela exibia, enquanto a estrada serpenteava muito ao longe, sobre a escarpa acima. Valancourt chamou Michael em altos brados, mas não ouviu voz alguma, exceto a sua própria, ecoando entre as rochas, e seus vários esforços por reencontrar a estrada foram igualmente infrutíferos. Enquanto assim se achavam, avistaram a cabana de um pastor, entre os troncos das árvores a certa distância, e Valancourt lançou-se adiante primeiro para pedir auxílio. Ao alcançá-la, viu apenas duas criancinhas a brincar na relva diante da porta. Olhou para dentro da choça, mas não havia ninguém ali, e o mais velho dos meninos disse-lhe que o pai estava com os rebanhos, e a mãe descera ao vale, mas voltaria em breve. Enquanto estava ali, ponderando o que mais se deveria fazer, de súbito ouviu a voz de Michael a bramir com toda a virilidade entre as escarpas acima, até fazer ressoar seus ecos. Valancourt respondeu de imediato ao chamado e procurou abrir caminho pelo matagal que revestia as encostas, seguindo a direção do som. Depois de muito lutar por entre silvados e precipícios, alcançou Michael e por fim conseguiu que ele se calasse e o escutasse. A estrada ficava a considerável distância do ponto onde estavam St. Aubert e Emily; a carruagem não podia facilmente retornar à entrada do bosque e, uma vez que seria muito fatigante para St. Aubert galgar a longa e íngreme estrada até o lugar onde ela agora se achava, Valancourt estava ansioso por encontrar uma subida mais fácil, pelo caminho que ele próprio percorrera.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto isso, St. Aubert e Emily foram até a cabana e descansaram em um banco simples, fixado entre dois pinheiros que o sombreavam, enquanto esperavam Valancourt voltar.

Original English

Meanwhile St. Aubert and Emily approached the cottage, and rested themselves on a rustic bench, fastened between two pines, which overshadowed it, till Valancourt, whose steps they had observed, should return.

Original Português

Nesse meio-tempo, St. Aubert e Emily aproximaram-se da cabana e descansaram num banco rústico, preso entre dois pinheiros que a sombreavam, até que Valancourt, cujos passos haviam observado, voltasse.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A criança mais velha parou de brincar e ficou observando os estranhos, enquanto a mais nova continuava pulando e tentava fazer o irmão se juntar a ela. St. Aubert sorriu diante daquela cena de inocência infantil, mas ela o fez lembrar de seus próprios filhos, que tinha perdido mais ou menos naquela idade, e da mãe deles, que também já tinha partido. Ele ficou quieto e triste. Emily percebeu isso e, na hora, começou a cantar uma das canções simples e alegres de que ele gostava. Cantou de forma muito doce. St. Aubert sorriu em meio às lágrimas, pegou a mão dela e a apertou com carinho. Depois tentou afastar os pensamentos tristes.

Original English

The eldest of the children desisted from his play, and stood still to observe the strangers, while the younger continued his little gambols, and teased his brother to join in them. St. Aubert looked with pleasure upon this picture of infantine simplicity, till it brought to his remembrance his own boys, whom he had lost about the age of these, and their lamented mother; and he sunk into a thoughtfulness, which Emily observing, she immediately began to sing one of those simple and lively airs he was so fond of, and which she knew how to give with the most captivating sweetness. St. Aubert smiled on her through his tears, took her hand and pressed it affectionately, and then tried to dissipate the melancholy reflections that lingered in his mind.

Original Português

O mais velho das crianças desistiu de sua brincadeira e ficou parado a observar os forasteiros, enquanto o mais novo continuava suas pequenas cabriolas e importunava o irmão para que se juntasse a elas. St. Aubert olhou com prazer para aquele quadro de infantil simplicidade, até que ele lhe trouxe à lembrança seus próprios meninos, que perdera por volta da idade destes, e sua pranteada mãe; e mergulhou numa cisma que Emily, observando, começou imediatamente a cantar uma daquelas árias simples e vivas de que ele tanto gostava, e que ela sabia entoar com a mais cativante doçura. St. Aubert sorriu-lhe através das lágrimas, tomou-lhe a mão e apertou-a afetuosamente, e então procurou dissipar as melancólicas reflexões que se demoravam em sua mente.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto ela cantava, Valancourt se aproximou. Ele não quis interrompê-la, então parou a uma certa distância e escutou. Quando ela terminou, ele se juntou a eles e disse que tinha encontrado Michael e também um caminho para subir o penhasco até a carruagem. Ele apontou para a encosta arborizada acima, e St. Aubert olhou para ela com preocupação. Já estava cansado de caminhar, e a subida parecia difícil. Ainda assim, achou que seria mais fácil do que a longa estrada acidentada, então decidiu tentar. Mas Emily sempre se preocupava com o conforto dele, então sugeriu que ele descansasse e comesse primeiro. Então Valancourt foi até a carruagem buscar a comida.

Original English

While she sung, Valancourt approached, who was unwilling to interrupt her, and paused at a little distance to listen. When she had concluded, he joined the party, and told them, that he had found Michael, as well as a way, by which he thought they could ascend the cliff to the carriage. He pointed to the woody steeps above, which St. Aubert surveyed with an anxious eye. He was already wearied by his walk, and this ascent was formidable to him. He thought, however, it would be less toilsome than the long and broken road, and he determined to attempt it; but Emily, ever watchful of his ease, proposing that he should rest, and dine before they proceeded further, Valancourt went to the carriage for the refreshments deposited there.

Original Português

Enquanto ela cantava, Valancourt aproximou-se, e, não querendo interrompê-la, deteve-se a pouca distância para escutar. Quando ela concluiu, juntou-se ao grupo e disse-lhes que encontrara Michael, bem como um caminho pelo qual julgava que poderiam subir a escarpa até a carruagem. Apontou para as arborizadas encostas acima, que St. Aubert examinou com olhar apreensivo. Já estava fatigado de sua caminhada, e aquela subida afigurava-se-lhe formidável. Julgou, contudo, que seria menos penosa do que a longa e acidentada estrada, e resolveu tentá-la; mas Emily, sempre atenta ao seu conforto, propondo que ele descansasse e jantasse antes de prosseguirem, Valancourt foi até a carruagem buscar as provisões ali guardadas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando voltou, sugeriu que subissem um pouco mais na montanha, onde o bosque se abria para uma vista ampla e bonita. Estavam prontos para ir até lá quando viram uma jovem mulher se juntar às crianças e abraçá-las com força, chorando sobre elas.

Original English

On his return, he proposed removing a little higher up the mountain, to where the woods opened upon a grand and extensive prospect; and thither they were preparing to go, when they saw a young woman join the children, and caress and weep over them.

Original Português

Ao voltar, propôs subir um pouco mais pela montanha, até onde os bosques se abriam sobre uma grandiosa e extensa perspectiva; e para lá se preparavam para ir quando viram uma jovem mulher juntar-se às crianças, acariciá-las e chorar sobre elas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Comovidos com o sofrimento dela, os viajantes pararam para observá-la. Ela pegou a criança mais nova no colo e, ao perceber os estranhos, enxugou depressa as lágrimas e voltou para a cabana. St. Aubert perguntou sobre sua tristeza e soube que o marido dela era um pastor que morava ali no verão para cuidar das ovelhas nessas montanhas. Na noite anterior, ele tinha perdido tudo o que possuíam. Um grupo de ciganos vinha perturbando a região havia algum tempo e tinha levado várias ovelhas do patrão dele. A esposa do pastor disse: "Jacques tinha guardado um pouco de dinheiro e comprado algumas ovelhas com ele. Agora vai ter que responder ao patrão pelas que foram roubadas. Pior ainda, quando o patrão souber disso, não vai mais confiar as ovelhas a ele, porque é um homem duro. O que vai ser das nossas crianças então?"

Original English

The travellers, interested by her distress, stopped to observe her. She took the youngest of the children in her arms, and, perceiving the strangers, hastily dried her tears, and proceeded to the cottage. St. Aubert, on enquiring the occasion of her sorrow, learned that her husband, who was a shepherd, and lived here in the summer months to watch over the flocks he led to feed upon these mountains, had lost, on the preceding night, his little all. A gang of gipsies, who had for some time infested the neighbourhood, had driven away several of his master's sheep. 'Jacques,'added the shepherd's wife, 'had saved a little money, and had bought a few sheep with it, and now they must go to his master for those that are stolen; and what is worse than all, his master, when he comes to know how it is, will trust him no longer with the care of his flocks, for he is a hard man! and then what is to become of our children!'

Original Português

Os viajantes, interessados por sua aflição, detiveram-se a observá-la. Ela tomou o mais novo das crianças nos braços e, ao perceber os forasteiros, enxugou apressadamente as lágrimas e dirigiu-se à cabana. St. Aubert, ao indagar o motivo de seu pesar, soube que seu marido, que era pastor e vivia ali nos meses de verão para vigiar os rebanhos que levava a pastar nessas montanhas, perdera, na noite anterior, seu pouco de tudo. Um bando de ciganos, que havia algum tempo infestava as redondezas, levara várias das ovelhas de seu amo. 'Jacques', acrescentou a mulher do pastor, 'havia poupado um pouco de dinheiro, e com ele comprara algumas ovelhas, e agora elas hão de ir para seu amo em lugar das que foram roubadas; e o que é pior de tudo, seu amo, quando vier a saber como é, não mais lhe confiará o cuidado de seus rebanhos, pois é um homem duro! e então, que será de nossos filhos!'

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B1 Português (simplified)

O rosto sincero da mulher e sua forma simples de falar fizeram St. Aubert acreditar em sua história. Valancourt tinha certeza de que era verdade, e perguntou depressa quanto valiam as ovelhas roubadas. Ao ouvir a resposta, virou-se, com um ar de decepção. St. Aubert deu-lhe algum dinheiro, e Emily também deu o que pôde de sua pequena bolsa. Depois seguiram em direção ao penhasco, mas Valancourt ficou para trás e falou com a esposa do pastor, que agora chorava de gratidão e surpresa. Ele perguntou quanto dinheiro ainda faltava para repor as ovelhas, e descobriu que era quase todo o dinheiro que tinha consigo. Sentiu-se perturbado e dividido. Aquele dinheiro poderia deixar a pobre família totalmente feliz, e ele tinha o poder de dá-lo. Mas o que aconteceria com ele? Como terminaria sua viagem com tão pouco dinheiro restante? Por um momento, ficou ali parado, sem querer perder a alegria de salvar uma família da ruína, mas preocupado com o resto de sua viagem.

Original English

The innocent countenance of the woman, and the simplicity of her manner in relating her grievance, inclined St. Aubert to believe her story; and Valancourt, convinced that it was true, asked eagerly what was the value of the stolen sheep; on hearing which he turned away with a look of disappointment. St. Aubert put some money into her hand, Emily too gave something from her little purse, and they walked towards the cliff; but Valancourt lingered behind, and spoke to the shepherd's wife, who was now weeping with gratitude and surprise. He enquired how much money was yet wanting to replace the stolen sheep, and found, that it was a sum very little short of all he had about him. He was perplexed and distressed. 'This sum then,'said he to himself, 'would make this poor family completely happy - it is in my power to give it - to make them completely happy! But what is to become of me? - how shall I contrive to reach home with the little money that will remain?'For a moment he stood, unwilling to forego the luxury of raising a family from ruin to happiness, yet considering the difficulties of pursuing his journey with so small a sum as would be left.

Original Português

O inocente semblante da mulher, e a simplicidade de suas maneiras ao relatar sua desgraça, inclinaram St. Aubert a acreditar em sua história; e Valancourt, convencido de que era verdadeira, perguntou avidamente qual era o valor das ovelhas roubadas; ao ouvir o qual, virou-se com um ar de desapontamento. St. Aubert pôs algum dinheiro na mão dela, Emily também deu algo de sua pequena bolsa, e caminharam em direção à escarpa; mas Valancourt ficou para trás e falou com a mulher do pastor, que chorava agora de gratidão e surpresa. Perguntou-lhe quanto dinheiro ainda faltava para repor as ovelhas roubadas, e descobriu que era uma soma muito pouco inferior a tudo o que trazia consigo. Ficou perplexo e aflito. 'Esta soma, então', disse consigo, 'tornaria esta pobre família completamente feliz - está em meu poder dá-la - torná-los completamente felizes! Mas que será de mim? - como hei de arranjar-me para chegar a casa com o pouco dinheiro que restará?' Por um momento ficou de pé, relutante em renunciar ao luxo de erguer uma família da ruína à felicidade, e ao mesmo tempo ponderando as dificuldades de prosseguir sua jornada com soma tão pequena quanto a que restaria.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto ele ainda estava nesse dilema, o próprio pastor apareceu. Seus filhos correram ao seu encontro. Ele pegou uma criança nos braços, e a outra se agarrou ao seu casaco, enquanto ele avançava devagar e triste. Seu rosto infeliz fez Valancourt decidir na hora. Ele entregou todo o seu dinheiro, exceto uns poucos luíses, e correu atrás de St. Aubert e Emily, que subiam devagar o caminho íngreme. Valancourt raramente se sentira tão leve de coração. Estava cheio de alegria, e tudo ao seu redor parecia mais bonito do que antes. St. Aubert notou seu rosto radiante e perguntou: "O que te deixou tão feliz?" Valancourt respondeu: "Que dia tão lindo. Como o sol brilha, como o ar está fresco, e que paisagem tão bonita!" "É realmente muito bonita", disse St. Aubert, que entendia o que Valancourt estava sentindo. "É uma pena que as pessoas ricas, que podem aproveitar esse sol, passem suas vidas na tristeza e no egoísmo. Quanto a você, meu jovem amigo, que o sol sempre brilhe tão forte para você como brilha agora, e que suas ações sempre lhe deem a luz da bondade e do bom senso juntas!"

Original English

While he was in this state of perplexity, the shepherd himself appeared: his children ran to meet him; he took one of them in his arms, and, with the other clinging to his coat, came forward with a loitering step. His forlorn and melancholy look determined Valancourt at once; he threw down all the money he had, except a very few louis, and bounded away after St. Aubert and Emily, who were proceeding slowly up the steep. Valancourt had seldom felt his heart so light as at this moment; his gay spirits danced with pleasure; every object around him appeared more interesting, or beautiful, than before. St. Aubert observed the uncommon vivacity of his countenance: 'What has pleased you so much?'said he. 'O what a lovely day,'replied Valancourt, 'how brightly the sun shines, how pure is this air, what enchanting scenery!''It is indeed enchanting,'said St. Aubert, whom early experience had taught to understand the nature of Valancourt's present feelings. 'What pity that the wealthy, who can command such sunshine, should ever pass their days in gloom - in the cold shade of selfishness! For you, my young friend, may the sun always shine as brightly as at this moment; may your own conduct always give you the sunshine of benevolence and reason united!'

Original Português

Enquanto se achava nesse estado de perplexidade, o próprio pastor apareceu: seus filhos correram ao seu encontro; ele tomou um deles nos braços e, com o outro agarrado à sua casaca, avançou com passo vagaroso. Seu ar desolado e melancólico decidiu Valancourt de imediato; atirou ao chão todo o dinheiro que tinha, exceto uns pouquíssimos luíses, e disparou atrás de St. Aubert e Emily, que subiam lentamente a encosta. Valancourt raramente sentira o coração tão leve quanto naquele momento; seu ânimo alegre dançava de prazer; cada objeto ao redor lhe parecia mais interessante, ou mais belo, do que antes. St. Aubert observou a incomum vivacidade de seu semblante: 'Que tanto vos agradou?', perguntou. 'Oh, que dia adorável', respondeu Valancourt, 'como brilha radiante o sol, como é puro este ar, que cenário encantador!' 'É de fato encantador', disse St. Aubert, a quem a experiência precoce ensinara a compreender a natureza dos sentimentos que Valancourt então nutria. 'Que pena que os ricos, que podem dispor de tal sol, hajam de passar seus dias na tristeza - na fria sombra do egoísmo! Para vós, meu jovem amigo, que o sol brilhe sempre tão radiante como neste momento; que vossa própria conduta vos dê sempre o sol da benevolência e da razão unidas!'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Valancourt ficou muito feliz com esse elogio, mas só conseguiu responder com um sorriso de gratidão.

Original English

Valancourt, highly flattered by this compliment, could make no reply but by a smile of gratitude.

Original Português

Valancourt, sumamente lisonjeado por esse elogio, não pôde responder senão com um sorriso de gratidão.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Eles continuaram andando por caminhos que serpenteavam sob os bosques, entre as colinas verdes da montanha. Quando chegaram ao pico sombreado que ele havia mostrado a eles, todos gritaram de admiração. Atrás deles, a rocha se erguia reta como um muro enorme, e depois se abria em penhascos suspensos. A cor cinza da rocha se destacava contra as plantas coloridas e as flores silvestres que cresciam nas fendas da pedra, e contra os pinheiros e cedros escuros mais acima. Abaixo, encostas íngremes desciam bruscamente até o vale, cobertas por arbustos alpinos densos. Mais abaixo ainda estavam as copas dos bosques de castanheiras, e entre elas dava para ver a cabana do pastor que tinham acabado de deixar, com fumaça azul subindo no ar. Ao redor deles estavam os grandes picos dos Pirineus. Alguns mostravam enormes penhascos de mármore, que mudavam de aparência conforme a luz mudava. Outros se erguiam ainda mais alto, mostrando apenas topos cobertos de neve, enquanto suas encostas mais baixas estavam cobertas por florestas de pinheiros, larícios e carvalhos que desciam até o vale. Este era um dos vales estreitos que se abrem dos Pirineus para o Rousillon. Seus campos verdes e sua beleza tranquila eram muito diferentes da paisagem selvagem das montanhas ao redor. Por uma abertura entre as montanhas, dava para ver as terras baixas do Rousillon, azuladas pela distância, unindo-se ao mar Mediterrâneo. Em um promontório na costa havia um farol solitário, com aves marinhas voando ao redor. Mais longe, de vez em quando aparecia uma vela, brilhando branca ao sol e se movendo em direção ao farol. Às vezes um navio estava tão distante que parecia apenas marcar a linha entre o céu e o mar.

Original English

They continued to wind under the woods, between the grassy knolls of the mountain, and, as they reached the shady summit, which he had pointed out, the whole party burst into an exclamation. Behind the spot where they stood, the rock rose perpendicularly in a massy wall to a considerable height, and then branched out into overhanging crags. Their grey tints were well contrasted by the bright hues of the plants and wild flowers, that grew in their fractured sides, and were deepened by the gloom of the pines and cedars, that waved above. The steeps below, over which the eye passed abruptly to the valley, were fringed with thickets of alpine shrubs; and, lower still, appeared the tufted tops of the chesnut woods, that clothed their base, among which peeped forth the shepherd's cottage, just left by the travellers, with its blueish smoke curling high in the air. On every side appeared the majestic summits of the Pyrenees, some exhibiting tremendous crags of marble, whose appearance was changing every instant, as the varying lights fell upon their surface; others, still higher, displaying only snowy points, while their lower steeps were covered almost invariably with forests of pine, larch, and oak, that stretched down to the vale. This was one of the narrow vallies, that open from the Pyrenees into the country of Rousillon, and whose green pastures, and cultivated beauty, form a decided and wonderful contrast to the romantic grandeur that environs it. Through a vista of the mountains appeared the lowlands of Rousillon, tinted with the blue haze of distance, as they united with the waters of the Mediterranean; where, on a promontory, which marked the boundary of the shore, stood a lonely beacon, over which were seen circling flights of sea-fowl. Beyond, appeared, now and then, a stealing sail, white with the sun-beam, and whose progress was perceivable by its approach to the light-house. Sometimes, too, was seen a sail so distant, that it served only to mark the line of separation between the sky and the waves.

Original Português

Continuaram a serpentear por sob os bosques, entre os montículos relvados da montanha, e, ao alcançarem o cimo umbroso que ele indicara, todo o grupo prorrompeu numa exclamação. Atrás do lugar onde se achavam, a rocha erguia-se a prumo, qual maciça muralha, até considerável altura, e depois se ramificava em penhascos suspensos. As suas tintas cinzentas contrastavam belamente com as cores vivas das plantas e das flores silvestres que cresciam em suas fendas, e eram aprofundadas pela penumbra dos pinheiros e dos cedros que se agitavam no alto. As escarpas abaixo, sobre as quais o olhar passava abruptamente para o vale, achavam-se orladas de touceiras de arbustos alpinos; e, mais abaixo ainda, surgiam os copados cimos dos castanhais que revestiam a sua base, entre os quais espreitava a cabana do pastor, que os viajantes acabavam de deixar, com o seu fumo azulado a encaracolar-se alto no ar. Por toda a parte apareciam os majestosos cumes dos Pirineus, alguns exibindo tremendos rochedos de mármore, cujo aspecto mudava a cada instante, à medida que as luzes cambiantes lhes tocavam a superfície; outros, ainda mais altos, mostrando apenas pontas nevadas, enquanto as suas encostas inferiores se cobriam quase invariavelmente de florestas de pinheiro, lariço e carvalho, que desciam até o vale. Era este um dos estreitos vales que se abrem dos Pirineus para as terras do Rossilhão, e cujos pastos verdejantes e beleza cultivada formam um contraste decidido e admirável com a grandeza romântica que o cerca. Por entre uma perspectiva das montanhas apareciam as baixadas do Rossilhão, tingidas da névoa azul da distância, ao unirem-se às águas do Mediterrâneo; onde, sobre um promontório que marcava o limite da costa, se erguia um farol solitário, sobre o qual se viam voos circulantes de aves marinhas. Além, surgia, de quando em quando, uma vela furtiva, branca ao raio de sol, e cujo avanço se percebia pela sua aproximação do farol. Às vezes, também, avistava-se uma vela tão distante que servia apenas para marcar a linha de separação entre o céu e as ondas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Do outro lado do vale, em frente ao lugar onde os viajantes descansavam, abria-se um caminho rochoso em direção à Gasconha. Não havia sinal de cultivo nem de vida. As rochas de granito se erguiam abruptamente e estendiam seus topos nus até as nuvens. Não havia bosques, nem sequer a cabana de um caçador. De vez em quando, um enorme larício lançava sua longa sombra sobre o penhasco, e aqui e ali havia uma cruz no topo de um penhasco, para avisar os viajantes sobre o destino daqueles que tinham passado por ali antes. O lugar parecia o esconderijo de bandidos. Emily olhou para baixo e quase esperava vê-los saindo de uma caverna escondida para caçar vítimas. Logo ela viu algo ainda mais assustador: uma forca em um ponto rochoso perto da entrada do desfiladeiro, bem acima de uma das cruzes que ela tinha notado antes. Esses sinais contavam uma história clara e terrível. Ela não os mostrou a St. Aubert, mas eles a deixaram inquieta e ansiosa para seguir em frente, para que pudessem chegar a Rousillon antes da noite. Ainda assim, St. Aubert precisava comer alguma coisa, então eles se sentaram na grama curta e seca e abriram a cesta de provisões, enquanto

Original English

On the other side of the valley, immediately opposite to the spot where the travellers rested, a rocky pass opened toward Gascony. Here no sign of cultivation appeared. The rocks of granite, that screened the glen, rose abruptly from their base, and stretched their barren points to the clouds, unvaried with woods, and uncheered even by a hunter's cabin. Sometimes, indeed, a gigantic larch threw its long shade over the precipice, and here and there a cliff reared on its brow a monumental cross, to tell the traveller the fate of him who had ventured thither before. This spot seemed the very haunt of banditti; and Emily, as she looked down upon it, almost expected to see them stealing out from some hollow cave to look for their prey. Soon after an object not less terrific struck her, - a gibbet standing on a point of rock near the entrance of the pass, and immediately over one of the crosses she had before observed. These were hieroglyphics that told a plain and dreadful story. She forbore to point it out to St. Aubert, but it threw a gloom over her spirits, and made her anxious to hasten forward, that they might with certainty reach Rousillon before night-fall. It was necessary, however, that St. Aubert should take some refreshment, and, seating themselves on the short dry turf, they opened the basket of provisions, while

Original Português

Do outro lado do vale, imediatamente defronte do lugar onde os viajantes repousavam, um desfiladeiro rochoso abria-se em direção à Gasconha. Ali nenhum sinal de cultivo aparecia. As rochas de granito, que resguardavam a garganta, erguiam-se abruptamente de sua base e estendiam as suas pontas estéreis até as nuvens, sem variação de bosques, e sem sequer o alento de uma cabana de caçador. Às vezes, na verdade, um lariço gigantesco lançava a sua longa sombra sobre o precipício, e aqui e ali um rochedo erguia na fronte uma cruz monumental, para contar ao viajante o destino daquele que ali se aventurara antes. Aquele sítio parecia o próprio covil de bandoleiros; e Emily, ao contemplá-lo lá embaixo, quase esperava vê-los saírem sorrateiramente de alguma caverna oca à procura de sua presa. Logo depois, um objeto não menos terrível a impressionou - uma forca erguida sobre um ponto de rocha junto à entrada do desfiladeiro, e imediatamente por cima de uma das cruzes que ela antes observara. Eram estes hieróglifos que contavam uma história clara e medonha. Absteve-se de o indicar a St. Aubert, mas isso lançou uma sombra sobre o seu ânimo, e fê-la ansiosa por apressar-se adiante, para que pudessem com certeza alcançar o Rossilhão antes de anoitecer. Era necessário, porém, que St. Aubert tomasse algum refrigério, e, sentando-se sobre a relva curta e seca, abriram o cesto das provisões, enquanto

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B1 Português (simplified)

Brisas frescas passavam sobre eles, e cedros verdes balançavam acima de suas cabeças. Altas palmeiras erguiam sua sombra graciosa. Ali eles respiravam nova vida e bebiam o ar curativo vindo dos pinheirais e dos vales perfumados. Ao longe, podiam ouvir rios e cachoeiras correndo.

Original English

by breezy murmurs cool'd, Broad o'er THEIR heads the verdant cedars wave, And high palmetos lift their graceful shade. - - -THEY draw Ethereal soul, there drink reviving gales Profusely breathing from the piney groves, And vales of fragrance; there at a distance hear The roaring floods, and cataracts.* *Thomson

Original Português

por murmúrios de brisa refrescados, largos sobre AS SUAS cabeças ondulam os verdes cedros, e altos palmitos erguem a sua graciosa sombra. - - - ELES sorvem alma etérea, ali bebem auras revivificantes que copiosamente exalam dos pinhais, e dos vales de fragrância; ali ao longe escutam as torrentes rugidoras, e as cataratas.* *Thomson

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B1 Português (simplified)

O descanso e o ar calmo no topo reanimaram St. Aubert. Valancourt estava tão contente com tudo ao seu redor, e com a conversa de seus companheiros, que parecia esquecer que a viagem ainda não tinha terminado. Depois da refeição simples, eles deram uma última e longa olhada na paisagem e voltaram a subir. St. Aubert ficou feliz quando chegaram à carruagem, onde Emily se juntou a ele. Mas Valancourt queria uma vista mais ampla da bela região abaixo, então soltou seus cães e correu ao lado da estrada. Muitas vezes ele saía da estrada para ir a lugares que prometiam uma vista melhor, e como as mulas andavam devagar, ele conseguia alcançá-las facilmente. Quando via uma paisagem de grande beleza, corria para contar a St. Aubert. St. Aubert estava cansado demais para caminhar, mas às vezes mandava parar a carruagem enquanto Emily ia até o penhasco próximo.

Original English

St. Aubert was revived by rest, and by the serene air of this summit; and Valancourt was so charmed with all around, and with the conversation of his companions, that he seemed to have forgotten he had any further to go. Having concluded their simple repast, they gave a long farewell look to the scene, and again began to ascend. St. Aubert rejoiced when he reached the carriage, which Emily entered with him; but Valancourt, willing to take a more extensive view of the enchanting country, into which they were about to descend, than he could do from a carriage, loosened his dogs, and once more bounded with them along the banks of the road. He often quitted it for points that promised a wider prospect, and the slow pace, at which the mules travelled, allowed him to overtake them with ease. Whenever a scene of uncommon magnificence appeared, he hastened to inform St. Aubert, who, though he was too much tired to walk himself, sometimes made the chaise wait, while Emily went to the neighbouring cliff.

Original Português

St. Aubert reanimou-se com o repouso e com o ar sereno daquele cimo; e Valancourt estava tão encantado com tudo à sua volta, e com a conversa de seus companheiros, que parecia haver esquecido que ainda tinha caminho a percorrer. Concluída a sua simples refeição, lançaram um longo olhar de despedida à paisagem, e novamente começaram a subir. St. Aubert regozijou-se ao alcançar a carruagem, na qual Emily entrou com ele; mas Valancourt, desejoso de ter uma vista mais ampla da região encantadora para onde estavam prestes a descer do que a que podia obter de uma carruagem, soltou os seus cães, e mais uma vez saltou com eles ao longo das margens da estrada. Frequentemente a deixava por pontos que prometiam uma perspectiva mais vasta, e o passo lento a que as mulas viajavam permitia-lhe alcançá-los com facilidade. Sempre que surgia uma cena de rara magnificência, apressava-se a informar St. Aubert, o qual, embora estivesse demasiado cansado para caminhar ele próprio, às vezes fazia a sege esperar, enquanto Emily ia ao rochedo vizinho.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Era noite quando desceram dos Alpes menores que cercam Rousillon. Essas montanhas formam um grande muro ao redor dessa terra encantadora, deixando-a aberta apenas a leste, em direção ao Mediterrâneo. As cores vivas das fazendas tornavam a terra bonita outra vez. As terras baixas tinham as cores mais ricas, possíveis graças ao clima quente e ao trabalho duro das pessoas. Bosques de laranjeiras e limoeiros exalavam um cheiro doce, com frutas maduras brilhando entre as folhas. Vinhedos espalhavam seus tesouros pelas encostas. Além disso, bosques, campos, cidades e vilas se estendiam em direção ao mar. No mar brilhante, muitas velas reluziam ao longe. Sobre tudo isso havia uma luz roxa de entardecer. Essa vista, com os Alpes ao redor, era uma imagem perfeita do belo e do grandioso, da 'beleza adormecida no colo do horror.'

Original English

It was evening when they descended the lower alps, that bind Rousillon, and form a majestic barrier round that charming country, leaving it open only on the east to the Mediterranean. The gay tints of cultivation once more beautified the landscape; for the lowlands were coloured with the richest hues, which a luxuriant climate, and an industrious people can awaken into life. Groves of orange and lemon perfumed the air, their ripe fruit glowing among the foliage; while, sloping to the plains, extensive vineyards spread their treasures. Beyond these, woods and pastures, and mingled towns and hamlets stretched towards the sea, on whose bright surface gleamed many a distant sail; while, over the whole scene, was diffused the purple glow of evening. This landscape with the surrounding alps did, indeed, present a perfect picture of the lovely and the sublime, of 'beauty sleeping in the lap of horror.'

Original Português

Era já noitinha quando desceram os Alpes inferiores que cingem o Rossilhão e formam uma barreira majestosa em torno daquela encantadora região, deixando-a aberta apenas a leste para o Mediterrâneo. As alegres tintas do cultivo mais uma vez embelezavam a paisagem; pois as baixadas achavam-se coloridas dos mais ricos matizes que um clima exuberante e um povo laborioso podem despertar à vida. Bosques de laranjeiras e limoeiros perfumavam o ar, os seus frutos maduros a resplandecer entre a folhagem; enquanto, descendo em declive para as planícies, extensas vinhas espalhavam os seus tesouros. Além destas, bosques e pastagens, e povoações e aldeolas de mescla, estendiam-se para o mar, em cuja superfície luminosa reluzia mais de uma vela distante; ao passo que, sobre toda a cena, difundia-se o fulgor purpúreo da tarde. Esta paisagem, com os Alpes circundantes, apresentava, de fato, um perfeito quadro do belo e do sublime, da «beleza adormecida no regaço do horror».

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de chegarem às planícies, os viajantes passaram entre cercas vivas de murta florida e romãzeiras até a cidade de Arles, onde planejavam passar a noite. Encontraram quartos simples, mas arrumados, e teriam aproveitado uma noite feliz depois de um dia de viagem cansativa e prazerosa, se a separação que se aproximava não os tivesse deixado tristes. St. Aubert planejava ir no dia seguinte até a beira do Mediterrâneo e viajar ao longo da costa até o Languedoc. Valancourt, já quase recuperado e sem mais desculpa para continuar com seus novos amigos, decidiu se despedir deles ali. St. Aubert, que gostava muito dele, o convidou para ir mais longe, mas não insistiu de novo. Valancourt teve força de vontade suficiente para recusar o convite, para não parecer aceitar um favor sem merecê-lo. Na manhã seguinte eles se separariam: St. Aubert seguiria para o Languedoc, e Valancourt voltaria pelas montanhas, vendo novos lugares no caminho de casa. Naquela noite, ele ficou muitas vezes calado e pensativo. St. Aubert foi caloroso, mas sério com ele, e Emily estava triste, embora tentasse várias vezes parecer alegre. Depois de uma das noites mais tristes que tinham passado juntos, eles se despediram e se separaram.

Original English

The travellers, having reached the plains, proceeded, between hedges of flowering myrtle and pomegranate, to the town of Arles, where they proposed to rest for the night. They met with simple, but neat accommodation, and would have passed a happy evening, after the toils and the delights of this day, had not the approaching separation thrown a gloom over their spirit. It was St. Aubert's plan to proceed, on the morrow, to the borders of the Mediterranean, and travel along its shores into Languedoc; and Valancourt, since he was now nearly recovered, and had no longer a pretence for continuing with his new friends, resolved to leave them here. St. Aubert, who was much pleased with him, invited him to go further, but did not repeat the invitation, and Valancourt had resolution enough to forego the temptation of accepting it, that he might prove himself not unworthy of the favour. On the following morning, therefore, they were to part, St. Aubert to pursue his way to Languedoc, and Valancourt to explore new scenes among the mountains, on his return home. During this evening he was often silent and thoughtful; St. Aubert's manner towards him was affectionate, though grave, and Emily was serious, though she made frequent efforts to appear cheerful. After one of the most melancholy evenings they had yet passed together, they separated for the night.

Original Português

Os viajantes, tendo alcançado as planícies, prosseguiram, por entre sebes de murta e romãzeira em flor, até a cidade de Arles, onde se propunham repousar durante a noite. Encontraram acomodações simples, mas asseadas, e teriam passado uma noite feliz, depois dos labores e dos deleites deste dia, se a separação iminente não houvesse lançado uma sombra sobre o seu ânimo. Era plano de St. Aubert prosseguir, no dia seguinte, até as bordas do Mediterrâneo, e viajar ao longo de suas costas para o Languedoc; e Valancourt, já que agora estava quase restabelecido e não tinha mais pretexto para continuar com os seus novos amigos, resolveu deixá-los ali. St. Aubert, que muito se agradara dele, convidou-o a ir mais longe, mas não repetiu o convite, e Valancourt teve resolução bastante para renunciar à tentação de aceitá-lo, a fim de mostrar-se não indigno do favor. Na manhã seguinte, portanto, haviam de separar-se: St. Aubert para seguir o seu caminho até o Languedoc, e Valancourt para explorar novas cenas entre as montanhas, no seu regresso a casa. Durante aquela noite ele esteve amiúde silencioso e pensativo; a maneira de St. Aubert para com ele era afetuosa, embora grave, e Emily estava séria, ainda que fizesse frequentes esforços para parecer alegre. Depois de uma das mais melancólicas noites que até então haviam passado juntos, separaram-se para dormir.

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Chapter VI

B1 Português (simplified)

Não me importa, Fortuna, o que você me negar. Você não pode tirar a beleza da natureza livre. Você não pode fechar o céu, por onde o amanhecer mostra seu rosto luminoso. Você não pode impedir meus pés firmes de caminhar pelos bosques e campos, à beira do riacho vivo, ao entardecer. Que a saúde fortaleça meu corpo, e eu deixarei os prazeres vazios para os outros. A Fortuna não pode me tirar a imaginação, a razão ou a virtude.

Original English

I care not, Fortune! what you me deny; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shews her brightening face; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve: Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave: Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave. THOMSON

Original Português

Não me importo, ó Fortuna! com o que me negas; não podes roubar-me a graça da natureza livre; não podes fechar as janelas do céu, por onde a Aurora mostra o seu rosto que se aclara; não podes vedar aos meus pés constantes que percorram os bosques e as campinas, junto à corrente viva, ao entardecer: que a saúde me revigore os nervos e as fibras mais delicadas, e deixo os seus brinquedos aos grandes meninos: da fantasia, da razão, da virtude, nada me pode privar. THOMSON

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B1 Português (simplified)

Pela manhã, Valancourt tomou café da manhã com St. Aubert e Emily, mas nenhum dos dois parecia bem descansado. St. Aubert ainda se sentia fraco por causa da doença, e Emily temia que ele estivesse piorando rapidamente. Ela observava o rosto dele com uma preocupação carinhosa, e seu próprio rosto sempre mostrava os mesmos sentimentos.

Original English

In the morning, Valancourt breakfasted with St. Aubert and Emily, neither of whom seemed much refreshed by sleep. The languor of illness still hung over St. Aubert, and to Emily's fears his disorder appeared to be increasing fast upon him. She watched his looks with anxious affection, and their expression was always faithfully reflected in her own.

Original Português

De manhã, Valancourt tomou o desjejum com St. Aubert e Emily, nenhum dos quais parecia muito reconfortado pelo sono. O langor da doença ainda pairava sobre St. Aubert, e, aos temores de Emily, o seu mal parecia agravar-se rapidamente sobre ele. Ela observava-lhe o semblante com afeto ansioso, e a expressão deste sempre se refletia fielmente no seu próprio.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando se conheceram, Valancourt tinha contado a eles seu nome e sua família. St. Aubert conhecia os dois, porque as terras da família de Valancourt ficavam a apenas cerca de vinte milhas de La Vallee, e ele já tinha encontrado o irmão mais velho de Valancourt algumas vezes em visitas por perto. Isso fez com que St. Aubert ficasse mais disposto a receber bem seu novo companheiro. De qualquer forma, a aparência e os modos de Valancourt já teriam agradado a ele, pois St. Aubert confiava em seu próprio julgamento sobre os rostos das pessoas. Mas ele não teria achado isso suficiente, sozinho, como apresentação para sua filha.

Original English

At the commencement of their acquaintance, Valancourt had made known his name and family. St. Aubert was not a stranger to either, for the family estates, which were now in the possession of an elder brother of Valancourt, were little more than twenty miles distant from La Vallee, and he had sometimes met the elder Valancourt on visits in the neighbourhood. This knowledge had made him more willingly receive his present companion; for, though his countenance and manners would have won him the acquaintance of St. Aubert, who was very apt to trust to the intelligence of his own eyes, with respect to countenances, he would not have accepted these, as sufficient introductions to that of his daughter.

Original Português

No começo do seu conhecimento, Valancourt dera a conhecer o seu nome e a sua família. St. Aubert não era estranho a nenhum dos dois, pois as propriedades da família, que agora estavam na posse de um irmão mais velho de Valancourt, ficavam a pouco mais de vinte milhas de La Vallée, e ele às vezes encontrara o Valancourt mais velho em visitas pela vizinhança. Esse conhecimento fizera-o receber de melhor grado o seu presente companheiro; pois, embora o semblante e as maneiras deste lhe houvessem granjeado o convívio de St. Aubert, que era muito propenso a fiar-se na inteligência dos próprios olhos no tocante aos semblantes, ele não teria aceitado tais coisas como introduções suficientes ao convívio de sua filha.

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B1 Português (simplified)

O café da manhã foi quase tão silencioso quanto o jantar da noite anterior. Mas os pensamentos deles foram interrompidos pelo som das rodas de uma carruagem. A carruagem estava ali para levar St. Aubert e Emily embora. Valancourt se levantou na hora e foi até a janela. Ele viu que era verdade e se sentou novamente sem dizer nada. Havia chegado a hora de se separarem. St. Aubert disse a Valancourt que esperava que ele nunca passasse por La Vallee sem visitá-lo. Valancourt agradeceu com carinho e prometeu que nunca faria isso. Ao dizer isso, olhou nervosamente para Emily, que tentava esconder sua tristeza com um sorriso. Eles conversaram por mais alguns minutos, e então St. Aubert seguiu na frente até a carruagem. Emily e Valancourt o seguiram em silêncio. Valancourt ficou parado na porta por vários minutos depois que eles se sentaram, e nenhum deles conseguia se despedir. Por fim, St. Aubert disse a triste palavra, Emily a repetiu para Valancourt, e ele respondeu com um sorriso triste. Então a carruagem partiu.

Original English

The breakfast was almost as silent as the supper of the preceding night; but their musing was at length interrupted by the sound of the carriage wheels, which were to bear away St. Aubert and Emily. Valancourt started from his chair, and went to the window; it was indeed the carriage, and he returned to his seat without speaking. The moment was now come when they must part. St. Aubert told Valancourt, that he hoped he would never pass La Vallee without favouring him with a visit; and Valancourt, eagerly thanking him, assured him that he never would; as he said which he looked timidly at Emily, who tried to smile away the seriousness of her spirits. They passed a few minutes in interesting conversation, and St. Aubert then led the way to the carriage, Emily and Valancourt following in silence. The latter lingered at the door several minutes after they were seated, and none of the party seemed to have courage enough to say - Farewell. At length, St. Aubert pronounced the melancholy word, which Emily passed to Valancourt, who returned it, with a dejected smile, and the carriage drove on.

Original Português

O desjejum foi quase tão silencioso quanto a ceia da noite anterior; mas o seu cismar foi por fim interrompido pelo som das rodas da carruagem, que haviam de levar embora St. Aubert e Emily. Valancourt ergueu-se de um salto da cadeira e foi até a janela; era de fato a carruagem, e voltou ao seu lugar sem falar. Chegara agora o momento em que deviam separar-se. St. Aubert disse a Valancourt que esperava que ele nunca passasse por La Vallée sem honrá-lo com uma visita; e Valancourt, agradecendo-lhe efusivamente, assegurou-lhe que nunca o faria; e, ao dizer isto, olhou timidamente para Emily, que tentava desvanecer com um sorriso a seriedade do seu ânimo. Passaram alguns minutos em interessante conversa, e St. Aubert então tomou a dianteira até a carruagem, seguindo-o Emily e Valancourt em silêncio. Este demorou-se à porta por vários minutos depois de eles se haverem sentado, e nenhum do grupo parecia ter coragem bastante para dizer - Adeus. Por fim, St. Aubert pronunciou a palavra melancólica, que Emily transmitiu a Valancourt, o qual a devolveu com um sorriso abatido, e a carruagem partiu.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Os viajantes ficaram um tempo em silêncio, pensativos, e isso não era desagradável. St. Aubert quebrou o silêncio e disse: 'Este é um jovem muito promissor. Faz muitos anos que não fico tão satisfeito com alguém depois de um encontro tão curto. Ele me faz lembrar da minha juventude, quando tudo era novo e maravilhoso!' St. Aubert suspirou e voltou a ficar pensativo. Emily olhou para trás, na estrada que tinham percorrido, e viu Valancourt na porta da pequena estalagem, observando-os. Ele também a viu e acenou. Ela acenou de volta até que a curva da estrada o escondesse de sua vista.

Original English

The travellers remained, for some time, in a state of tranquil pensiveness, which is not unpleasing. St. Aubert interrupted it by observing, 'This is a very promising young man; it is many years since I have been so much pleased with any person, on so short an acquaintance. He brings back to my memory the days of my youth, when every scene was new and delightful!'St. Aubert sighed, and sunk again into a reverie; and, as Emily looked back upon the road they had passed, Valancourt was seen, at the door of the little inn, following them with his eyes. Her perceived her, and waved his hand; and she returned the adieu, till the winding road shut her from his sight.

Original Português

Os viajantes permaneceram, por algum tempo, num estado de tranquila melancolia, que não é desagradável. St. Aubert interrompeu-o, observando: «Este é um jovem muito promissor; faz muitos anos que não me agradava tanto de pessoa alguma em tão breve conhecimento. Ele traz de volta à minha memória os dias da minha juventude, quando toda cena era nova e deleitosa!» St. Aubert suspirou e afundou-se novamente em devaneio; e, quando Emily olhou para trás, para a estrada que haviam percorrido, avistou-se Valancourt, à porta da pequena estalagem, seguindo-os com os olhos. Ele percebeu-a e acenou com a mão; e ela retribuiu o adeus, até que a estrada sinuosa a subtraiu à vista dele.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Eu me lembro de quando eu tinha mais ou menos a idade dele,' disse St. Aubert novamente. 'Eu pensava e sentia exatamente como ele. Naquela época, o mundo estava se abrindo para mim. Agora está se fechando.'

Original English

'I remember when I was about his age,'resumed St. Aubert, 'and I thought, and felt exactly as he does. The world was opening upon me then, now - it is closing.'

Original Português

«Lembro-me de quando tinha mais ou menos a idade dele», retomou St. Aubert, «e pensava e sentia exatamente como ele. O mundo abria-se então diante de mim; agora - vai fechando-se.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Meu caro senhor, não pense de forma tão triste,' disse Emily com a voz trêmula. 'Espero que o senhor viva muitos e muitos anos, pelo seu próprio bem, e pelo meu.'

Original English

'My dear sir, do not think so gloomily,'said Emily in a trembling voice, 'I hope you have many, many years to live - for your own sake - for MY sake.'

Original Português

«Meu querido senhor, não pense de modo tão sombrio», disse Emily com voz trêmula. «Espero que tenha muitos, muitos anos de vida - pelo seu próprio bem - pelo MEU bem.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Ah, minha Emily!' respondeu St. Aubert. 'Pelo seu bem! Bom, espero que sim.' Ele enxugou uma lágrima do rosto, sorriu e disse com carinho: 'Há algo muito agradável na energia e na honestidade da juventude, quando um homem velho ainda não foi endurecido pelo mundo. É algo alegre e renovador, como ver a primavera depois de uma doença. A mente sente um pouco do espírito dessa estação, e os olhos ganham um pouco de sol. Valancourt é essa primavera para mim.'

Original English

'Ah, my Emily!'replied St. Aubert, 'for thy sake! Well - I hope it is so.'He wiped away a tear, that was stealing down his cheek, threw a smile upon his countenance, and said in a cheering voice, 'there is something in the ardour and ingenuousness of youth, which is particularly pleasing to the contemplation of an old man, if his feelings have not been entirely corroded by the world. It is cheering and reviving, like the view of spring to a sick person; his mind catches somewhat of the spirit of the season, and his eyes are lighted up with a transient sunshine. Valancourt is this spring to me.'

Original Português

«Ah, minha Emily!», respondeu St. Aubert, «pelo teu bem! Pois bem - espero que assim seja.» Enxugou uma lágrima que lhe escorria pela face, deixou vir um sorriso ao semblante, e disse com voz animadora: «Há algo no ardor e na ingenuidade da juventude que é particularmente agradável à contemplação de um velho, se os sentimentos deste não foram inteiramente corroídos pelo mundo. É reconfortante e revivificante, como a vista da primavera para um enfermo; a mente dele capta algo do espírito da estação, e os seus olhos iluminam-se com um sol passageiro. Valancourt é essa primavera para mim.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily apertou a mão do pai com carinho. Ela nunca tinha gostado tanto de ouvi-lo elogiar alguém, nem mesmo quando ele a elogiava.

Original English

Emily, who pressed her father's hand affectionately, had never before listened with so much pleasure to the praises he bestowed; no, not even when he had bestowed them on herself.

Original Português

Emily, que apertava afetuosamente a mão do pai, nunca antes escutara com tanto prazer os elogios que ele fazia; não, nem mesmo quando os fizera a ela própria.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Eles seguiram viagem por vinhedos, bosques e campos, aproveitando a bela e romântica paisagem. De um lado ficavam os Pirineus, e do outro, o oceano. Pouco depois do meio-dia, chegaram a Colioure, uma cidade no Mediterrâneo. Almoçaram ali e descansaram até mais tarde, quando o dia esfriou um pouco. Depois continuaram pela costa em direção ao Languedoc. Emily olhava o mar imenso com grande entusiasmo, observando como sua superfície mudava com a luz e a sombra, e como as margens arborizadas ficavam mais suaves com as cores do outono.

Original English

They travelled on, among vineyards, woods, and pastures, delighted with the romantic beauty of the landscape, which was bounded, on one side, by the grandeur of the Pyrenees, and, on the other, by the ocean; and, soon after noon, they reached the town of Colioure, situated on the Mediterranean. Here they dined, and rested till towards the cool of day, when they pursued their way along the shores - those enchanting shores! - which extend to Languedoc. Emily gazed with enthusiasm on the vastness of the sea, its surface varying, as the lights and shadows fell, and on its woody banks, mellowed with autumnal tints.

Original Português

Viajaram adiante, por entre vinhas, bosques e pastagens, deliciados com a beleza romântica da paisagem, que era limitada, de um lado, pela grandeza dos Pirineus, e, do outro, pelo oceano; e, pouco depois do meio-dia, alcançaram a cidade de Colioure, situada no Mediterrâneo. Ali jantaram e repousaram até o frescor do dia, quando prosseguiram o seu caminho ao longo das costas - aquelas costas encantadoras! - que se estendem até o Languedoc. Emily contemplava com entusiasmo a vastidão do mar, cuja superfície variava à medida que as luzes e as sombras caíam, e as suas margens arborizadas, suavizadas pelas tintas outonais.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert estava ansioso para chegar a Perpignan, onde esperava receber cartas de M. Quesnel. Essa esperança o fez deixar Colioure, mesmo que seu corpo fraco precisasse descansar imediatamente. Depois de percorrerem algumas milhas, ele adormeceu. Emily tinha colocado dois ou três livros na carruagem quando saíram de La Vallee, então agora tinha tempo para lê-los. Ela procurou o livro que Valancourt estivera lendo no dia anterior, na esperança de ler as páginas que os olhos dele tinham acabado de percorrer, de pensar nas linhas que ele tinha admirado, e de sentir como se os pensamentos dele estivessem falando com ela através delas. Mas ela não conseguiu encontrar esse livro. Em vez disso, viu um volume de poemas de Petrarca que tinha pertencido a Valancourt. O nome dele estava escrito ali, e ele tinha lido trechos daquele livro para ela várias vezes, com muito sentimento. No início, ela não acreditou que ele tivesse deixado esse livro de propósito, no lugar do que ela havia perdido, como se o amor tivesse guiado a troca. Mas quando o abriu ansiosamente e viu as marcas de lápis ao lado das passagens que ele tinha lido em voz alta, e de outras que mostravam uma ternura que ele não tinha ousado dizer abertamente, ela entendeu. Por um momento, ela soube apenas que era amada. Depois se lembrou das muitas formas como ele falava e olhava ao ler aqueles sonetos, e do sentimento forte em sua voz. Ela chorou diante desse sinal do amor dele.

Original English

St. Aubert was impatient to reach Perpignan, where he expected letters from M. Quesnel; and it was the expectation of these letters, that had induced him to leave Colioure, for his feeble frame had required immediate rest. After travelling a few miles, he fell asleep; and Emily, who had put two or three books into the carriage, on leaving La Vallee, had now the leisure for looking into them. She sought for one, in which Valancourt had been reading the day before, and hoped for the pleasure of re-tracing a page, over which the eyes of a beloved friend had lately passed, of dwelling on the passages, which he had admired, and of permitting them to speak to her in the language of his own mind, and to bring himself to her presence. On searching for the book, she could find it no where, but in its stead perceived a volume of Petrarch's poems, that had belonged to Valancourt, whose name was written in it, and from which he had frequently read passages to her, with all the pathetic expression, that characterized the feelings of the author. She hesitated in believing, what would have been sufficiently apparent to almost any other person, that he had purposely left this book, instead of the one she had lost, and that love had prompted the exchange; but, having opened it with impatient pleasure, and observed the lines of his pencil drawn along the various passages he had read aloud, and under others more descriptive of delicate tenderness than he had dared to trust his voice with, the conviction came, at length, to her mind. For some moments she was conscious only of being beloved; then, a recollection of all the variations of tone and countenance, with which he had recited these sonnets, and of the soul, which spoke in their expression, pressed to her memory, and she wept over the memorial of his affection.

Original Português

St. Aubert estava impaciente por alcançar Perpignan, onde esperava cartas do sr. Quesnel; e foi a expectativa dessas cartas que o induzira a deixar Colioure, pois a sua frágil constituição exigia repouso imediato. Depois de viajarem algumas milhas, ele adormeceu; e Emily, que pusera dois ou três livros na carruagem ao partir de La Vallée, tinha agora o lazer de examiná-los. Procurou por um em que Valancourt estivera lendo no dia anterior, e esperava o prazer de percorrer de novo uma página sobre a qual os olhos de um amigo querido havia pouco haviam passado, de deter-se nas passagens que ele admirara, e de permitir que lhe falassem na linguagem do próprio pensamento dele, e trouxessem a presença dele diante dela. Ao procurar o livro, não o pôde encontrar em parte alguma, mas em seu lugar deparou com um volume de poemas de Petrarca, que pertencera a Valancourt, cujo nome nele estava escrito, e do qual ele frequentemente lera passagens para ela, com toda a expressão comovente que caracterizava os sentimentos do autor. Ela hesitava em acreditar, no que teria sido suficientemente evidente para quase qualquer outra pessoa, que ele deixara de propósito aquele livro, em vez do que ela perdera, e que o amor motivara a troca; mas, tendo-o aberto com impaciente prazer, e observado os traços do lápis dele desenhados ao longo das várias passagens que ele lera em voz alta, e sob outras mais descritivas de delicada ternura do que ele ousara confiar à voz, a convicção veio, por fim, ao seu espírito. Por alguns momentos teve consciência apenas de ser amada; depois, a recordação de todas as variações de tom e de semblante com que ele recitara aqueles sonetos, e da alma que falava em sua expressão, apertou-lhe a memória, e ela chorou sobre aquele memorial do afeto dele.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Eles chegaram a Perpignan pouco depois do pôr do sol. Lá, St. Aubert encontrou as cartas de M. Quesnel que esperava. O conteúdo delas claramente o perturbou tão profundamente que Emily ficou assustada. Ela perguntou a ele, com delicadeza, o que estava errado, tanto quanto conseguia fazer sem parecer atrevida. Mas ele só respondeu com lágrimas e mudou de assunto rapidamente. Emily não insistiu mais, embora estivesse muito perturbada com o jeito dele, e passou a noite acordada e ansiosa.

Original English

They arrived at Perpignan soon after sunset, where St. Aubert found, as he had expected, letters from M. Quesnel, the contents of which so evidently and grievously affected him, that Emily was alarmed, and pressed him, as far as her delicacy would permit, to disclose the occasion of his concern; but he answered her only by tears, and immediately began to talk on other topics. Emily, though she forbore to press the one most interesting to her, was greatly affected by her father's manner, and passed a night of sleepless solicitude.

Original Português

Chegaram a Perpignan pouco depois do pôr do sol, onde St. Aubert encontrou, como esperara, cartas do sr. Quesnel, cujo conteúdo tão evidente e dolorosamente o afetou que Emily se alarmou, e o instou, tanto quanto a sua delicadeza o permitia, a revelar o motivo de sua aflição; mas ele lhe respondeu apenas com lágrimas, e imediatamente começou a falar de outros assuntos. Emily, embora se abstivesse de insistir naquele que mais lhe interessava, ficou grandemente comovida pela maneira do pai, e passou uma noite de desvelada inquietação.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Pela manhã, continuaram viajando pela costa em direção a Leucate, outra cidade no Mediterrâneo, perto da fronteira entre o Languedoc e Rousillon. No caminho, Emily voltou a falar sobre a noite anterior e ficou tão perturbada com o silêncio e a tristeza de St. Aubert que ele finalmente cedeu. 'Minha querida Emily,' disse ele, 'eu não queria estragar o seu prazer com essas belas paisagens. Por isso pretendia esconder algumas coisas por enquanto, embora você precise sabê-las com o tempo. Mas a sua preocupação mudou esse plano. Você sofre quase tanto esperando quanto sofreria ouvindo a verdade. A visita de M. Quesnel trouxe más notícias. Ele veio me contar parte do que agora já foi confirmado. Você deve ter me ouvido mencionar M. Motteville, de Paris, mas não sabia que a maior parte dos meus bens estava sob os cuidados dele. Eu confiava muito nele, e ainda quero acreditar que ele não é totalmente indigno do meu respeito. Muitas coisas aconteceram que o arruinaram, e junto com ele, eu também estou arruinado.'

Original English

In the morning they pursued their journey along the coast towards Leucate, another town on the Mediterranean, situated on the borders of Languedoc and Rousillon. On the way, Emily renewed the subject of the preceding night, and appeared so deeply affected by St. Aubert's silence and dejection, that he relaxed from his reserve. 'I was unwilling, my dear Emily,'said he, 'to throw a cloud over the pleasure you receive from these scenes, and meant, therefore, to conceal, for the present, some circumstances, with which, however, you must at length have been made acquainted. But your anxiety has defeated my purpose; you suffer as much from this, perhaps, as you will do from a knowledge of the facts I have to relate. M. Quesnel's visit proved an unhappy one to me; he came to tell me part of the news he has now confirmed. You may have heard me mention a M. Motteville, of Paris, but you did not know that the chief of my personal property was invested in his hands. I had great confidence in him, and I am yet willing to believe, that he is not wholly unworthy of my esteem. A variety of circumstances have concurred to ruin him, and - I am ruined with him.'

Original Português

De manhã prosseguiram a sua jornada ao longo da costa em direção a Leucate, outra cidade do Mediterrâneo, situada nas fronteiras do Languedoc e do Rossilhão. Pelo caminho, Emily retomou o assunto da noite anterior, e mostrou-se tão profundamente afetada pelo silêncio e pelo abatimento de St. Aubert que ele relaxou de sua reserva. «Eu não queria, minha querida Emily», disse ele, «lançar uma nuvem sobre o prazer que recebes destas cenas, e tencionava, portanto, ocultar, por ora, certas circunstâncias das quais, contudo, terias por fim de tomar conhecimento. Mas a tua ansiedade frustrou o meu propósito; sofres tanto com isto, talvez, quanto sofrerás com o conhecimento dos fatos que tenho a relatar. A visita do sr. Quesnel revelou-se infeliz para mim; ele veio contar-me parte da notícia que agora confirmou. Podes ter-me ouvido mencionar um sr. Motteville, de Paris, mas não sabias que o grosso dos meus bens pessoais estava investido em suas mãos. Eu tinha grande confiança nele, e ainda estou disposto a crer que ele não é de todo indigno da minha estima. Uma variedade de circunstâncias concorreu para arruiná-lo, e - estou arruinado com ele.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert parou por um momento para conseguir esconder seus sentimentos.

Original English

St. Aubert paused to conceal his emotion.

Original Português

St. Aubert fez uma pausa para ocultar a sua emoção.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"As cartas que acabei de receber de M. Quesnel," ele disse, tentando falar com calma, "continham outras cartas de Motteville, e elas confirmaram todos os meus temores."

Original English

'The letters I have just received from M. Quesnel,'resumed he, struggling to speak with firmness, 'enclosed others from Motteville, which confirmed all I dreaded.'

Original Português

«As cartas que acabo de receber do sr. Quesnel», retomou ele, esforçando-se por falar com firmeza, «traziam outras de Motteville, que confirmaram tudo o que eu temia.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Então precisamos deixar La Vallee?" perguntou Emily depois de um longo silêncio. "Isso ainda não é certo," respondeu St. Aubert. "Vai depender do acordo que Motteville conseguir fazer com seus credores. Você sabe que minha renda nunca foi grande, e agora vai ser muito pequena. Sinto muito por você, Emily, minha filha." Sua voz tremeu. Emily sorriu para ele através das lágrimas. Depois tentou controlar seus sentimentos e disse: "Meu querido pai, não sofra por mim nem por si mesmo. Ainda podemos ser felizes. Se La Vallee continuar sendo nossa, temos que ser felizes. Vamos manter apenas um criado, e o senhor quase não vai notar a mudança na sua renda. Fique tranquilo, meu caro senhor. Não vamos sentir falta dos luxos que os outros tanto valorizam, porque nunca nos importamos com eles. E a pobreza não pode nos tirar muitas coisas. Ela não pode tirar o amor que sentimos um pelo outro, nem nos diminuir aos nossos próprios olhos, nem aos olhos de quem realmente importa."

Original English

'Must we then quit La Vallee?'said Emily, after a long pause of silence. 'That is yet uncertain,'replied St. Aubert, 'it will depend upon the compromise Motteville is able to make with his creditors. My income, you know, was never large, and now it will be reduced to little indeed! It is for you, Emily, for you, my child, that I am most afflicted.'His last words faltered; Emily smiled tenderly upon him through her tears, and then, endeavouring to overcome her emotion, 'My dear father,'said she, 'do not grieve for me, or for yourself; we may yet be happy; - if La Vallee remains for us, we must be happy. We will retain only one servant, and you shall scarcely perceive the change in your income. Be comforted, my dear sir; we shall not feel the want of those luxuries, which others value so highly, since we never had a taste for them; and poverty cannot deprive us of many consolations. It cannot rob us of the affection we have for each other, or degrade us in our own opinion, or in that of any person, whose opinion we ought to value.'

Original Português

«Devemos então deixar La Vallée?», disse Emily, após uma longa pausa de silêncio. «Isso ainda é incerto», respondeu St. Aubert, «dependerá do acordo que Motteville consiga fazer com os seus credores. Os meus rendimentos, bem sabes, nunca foram avultados, e agora ficarão reduzidos a bem pouco, na verdade! É por ti, Emily, por ti, minha filha, que mais me aflijo.» As suas últimas palavras vacilaram; Emily sorriu-lhe ternamente através das lágrimas, e então, procurando dominar a sua emoção, disse: «Meu querido pai, não te aflijas por mim, nem por ti mesmo; podemos ainda ser felizes; - se La Vallée nos restar, havemos de ser felizes. Ficaremos apenas com um criado, e mal notarás a mudança nos teus rendimentos. Consola-te, meu querido senhor; não sentiremos a falta daqueles luxos que outros tanto prezam, pois nunca tivemos gosto por eles; e a pobreza não pode privar-nos de muitos consolos. Não pode roubar-nos o afeto que temos um pelo outro, nem rebaixar-nos em nosso próprio conceito, nem no de qualquer pessoa cuja opinião devêssemos prezar.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert escondeu o rosto com o lenço e não conseguiu falar. Mas Emily continuou lembrando o pai das verdades que ele mesmo tinha lhe ensinado.

Original English

St. Aubert concealed his face with his handkerchief, and was unable to speak; but Emily continued to urge to her father the truths, which himself had impressed upon her mind.

Original Português

St. Aubert ocultou o rosto com o lenço, e não conseguiu falar; mas Emily continuou a instar ao pai as verdades que ele próprio lhe imprimira no espírito.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Além disso, meu caro senhor, a pobreza não pode tirar os prazeres da mente. Ela não pode impedir que o senhor me dê exemplos de força e bondade. Não pode me impedir de confortar um pai querido. Não pode destruir nosso amor pelas coisas grandiosas e belas da natureza. Essas vistas maravilhosas são gratuitas para todos, ricos ou pobres. Então do que temos que reclamar, enquanto tivermos o que precisamos? Os prazeres que o dinheiro não pode comprar ainda serão nossos. Continuamos com as grandes alegrias da natureza e perdemos apenas as sem importância, criadas pelos seres humanos.'

Original English

'Besides, my dear sir, poverty cannot deprive us of intellectual delights. It cannot deprive you of the comfort of affording me examples of fortitude and benevolence; nor me of the delight of consoling a beloved parent. It cannot deaden our taste for the grand, and the beautiful, or deny us the means of indulging it; for the scenes of nature - those sublime spectacles, so infinitely superior to all artificial luxuries! are open for the enjoyment of the poor, as well as of the rich. Of what, then, have we to complain, so long as we are not in want of necessaries? Pleasures, such as wealth cannot buy, will still be ours. We retain, then, the sublime luxuries of nature, and lose only the frivolous ones of art.'

Original Português

«Além disso, meu querido senhor, a pobreza não pode privar-nos dos deleites intelectuais. Não pode privar-te do conforto de me dares exemplos de fortaleza e de benevolência; nem a mim do deleite de consolar um pai querido. Não pode embotar o nosso gosto pelo grandioso e pelo belo, nem negar-nos os meios de o satisfazer; pois as cenas da natureza - aqueles espetáculos sublimes, tão infinitamente superiores a todos os luxos artificiais! - estão abertas ao desfrute do pobre tanto quanto do rico. De que, então, temos de queixar-nos, enquanto não nos falta o necessário? Prazeres que a riqueza não pode comprar continuarão a ser nossos. Conservamos, pois, os sublimes luxos da natureza, e perdemos apenas os frívolos da arte.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert não conseguiu responder. Ele abraçou Emily, e as lágrimas dos dois caíram juntas, mas não eram lágrimas de tristeza. Depois de palavras tão sinceras, qualquer outra coisa pareceria fraca demais, então ficaram em silêncio por um tempo. Depois St. Aubert voltou a falar como antes. Sua mente ainda não tinha recuperado toda a paz, mas ao menos ele parecia calmo.

Original English

St. Aubert could not reply: he caught Emily to his bosom, their tears flowed together, but - they were not tears of sorrow. After this language of the heart, all other would have been feeble, and they remained silent for some time. Then, St. Aubert conversed as before; for, if his mind had not recovered its natural tranquillity, it at least assumed the appearance of it.

Original Português

St. Aubert não pôde responder: estreitou Emily contra o peito, as lágrimas de ambos correram juntas, mas - não eram lágrimas de dor. Depois desta linguagem do coração, toda outra teria sido débil, e permaneceram silenciosos por algum tempo. Então, St. Aubert conversou como antes; pois, se o seu espírito não recobrara a sua tranquilidade natural, ao menos assumia a aparência dela.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Chegaram à bela cidade de Leucate cedo, mas St. Aubert estava cansado, então decidiram passar a noite ali. À noite, ele fez um esforço para caminhar com Emily e observar a paisagem ao redor, que dava vista para o lago de Leucate, o Mediterrâneo, parte de Rousillon, os Pirineus, e uma grande extensão do rico Languedoc, agora vermelho com uvas maduras que os camponeses começavam a colher. St. Aubert e Emily observavam os trabalhadores ocupados, ouviam as canções alegres levadas pelo vento, e aguardavam com prazer a viagem do dia seguinte por essa terra animada. Mesmo assim, ele planejava continuar viajando ao longo da costa. Em parte, ele queria voltar para casa logo, mas escolheu continuar para dar mais prazer a Emily e ver se o ar do mar ajudaria sua doença.

Original English

They reached the romantic town of Leucate early in the day, but St. Aubert was weary, and they determined to pass the night there. In the evening, he exerted himself so far as to walk with his daughter to view the environs that overlook the lake of Leucate, the Mediterranean, part of Rousillon, with the Pyrenees, and a wide extent of the luxuriant province of Languedoc, now blushing with the ripened vintage, which the peasants were beginning to gather. St. Aubert and Emily saw the busy groups, caught the joyous song, that was wafted on the breeze, and anticipated, with apparent pleasure, their next day's journey over this gay region. He designed, however, still to wind along the sea-shore. To return home immediately was partly his wish, but from this he was withheld by a desire to lengthen the pleasure, which the journey gave his daughter, and to try the effect of the sea air on his own disorder.

Original Português

Alcançaram a romântica cidade de Leucate cedo no dia, mas St. Aubert estava fatigado, e resolveram passar ali a noite. Ao entardecer, ele fez um esforço tal que caminhou com a filha para contemplar os arredores que dominam o lago de Leucate, o Mediterrâneo, parte do Rossilhão, com os Pirineus, e uma vasta extensão da exuberante província do Languedoc, agora ruborizada pela vindima madura, que os camponeses começavam a colher. St. Aubert e Emily viram os grupos atarefados, captaram a canção jubilosa que era trazida pela brisa, e anteciparam, com aparente prazer, a jornada do dia seguinte por aquela alegre região. Ele tencionava, porém, contornar ainda a beira-mar. Regressar imediatamente a casa era em parte o seu desejo, mas disso o retinha a vontade de prolongar o prazer que a jornada dava à filha, e de experimentar o efeito do ar do mar sobre o seu próprio mal.

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B1 Português (simplified)

No dia seguinte, continuaram a viagem pelo Languedoc, ao longo da costa do Mediterrâneo. Os Pirineus ainda se erguiam atrás deles numa vista grandiosa, enquanto o oceano ficava à direita e amplas planícies se estendiam à esquerda, até desaparecerem na distância azulada. St. Aubert estava satisfeito e conversava bastante com Emily. Mas às vezes sua alegria parecia forçada, e às vezes a tristeza aparecia em seu rosto. O sorriso de Emily logo a afastava, mas o coração dela mesma doía, porque ela via que os problemas do pai estavam prejudicando tanto sua mente quanto seu corpo fraco.

Original English

On the following day, therefore, they recommenced their journey through Languedoc, winding the shores of the Mediterranean; the Pyrenees still forming the magnificent back-ground of their prospects, while on their right was the ocean, and, on their left, wide extended plains melting into the blue horizon. St. Aubert was pleased, and conversed much with Emily, yet his cheerfulness was sometimes artificial, and sometimes a shade of melancholy would steal upon his countenance, and betray him. This was soon chased away by Emily's smile; who smiled, however, with an aching heart, for she saw that his misfortunes preyed upon his mind, and upon his enfeebled frame.

Original Português

No dia seguinte, portanto, recomeçaram a sua jornada pelo Languedoc, contornando as costas do Mediterrâneo; os Pirineus formavam ainda o magnífico fundo de suas perspectivas, enquanto à sua direita estava o oceano, e, à esquerda, vastas planícies que se fundiam no horizonte azul. St. Aubert estava contente e conversava muito com Emily, contudo a sua alegria era às vezes artificial, e às vezes uma sombra de melancolia lhe furtava o semblante e o traía. Esta era logo enxotada pelo sorriso de Emily; que sorria, todavia, com o coração dorido, pois via que os infortúnios lhe roíam o espírito e a constituição já enfraquecida.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Era noite quando chegaram a uma pequena vila no alto Languedoc, onde pretendiam passar a noite. Mas não havia camas disponíveis para eles, porque também era a época da colheita. Por isso tiveram que seguir até a próxima estação de parada. St. Aubert se sentia fraco e cansado e precisava descansar imediatamente, mas já era tarde, e não havia escolha. Ele disse a Michael para continuar.

Original English

It was evening when they reached a small village of Upper Languedoc, where they meant to pass the night, but the place could not afford them beds; for here, too, it was the time of the vintage, and they were obliged to proceed to the next post. The languor of illness and of fatigue, which returned upon St. Aubert, required immediate repose, and the evening was now far advanced; but from necessity there was no appeal, and he ordered Michael to proceed.

Original Português

Era noitinha quando alcançaram uma pequena aldeia do Alto Languedoc, onde tencionavam passar a noite, mas o lugar não pôde oferecer-lhes leitos; pois ali também era o tempo da vindima, e viram-se obrigados a prosseguir até a próxima parada. O langor da doença e da fadiga, que retornava sobre St. Aubert, exigia repouso imediato, e a noite já ia adiantada; mas da necessidade não havia apelo, e ele ordenou a Michael que prosseguisse.

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B1 Português (simplified)

As ricas planícies do Languedoc, cheias da alegria da colheita e da animação de uma festa francesa, já não davam mais prazer a St. Aubert. Sua condição triste contrastava dolorosamente com a felicidade e a beleza jovem ao seu redor. Enquanto seus olhos cansados observavam a paisagem, ele pensou que em breve talvez se fechassem para sempre para este mundo. "Aquelas montanhas distantes e nobres," disse a si mesmo, olhando para a linha dos Pirineus a oeste, "estas planícies ricas, este céu azul, esta luz clara do dia, tudo isso vai desaparecer dos meus olhos! A canção do camponês, a voz alegre dos seres humanos, não vão mais soar para mim!"

Original English

The rich plains of Languedoc, which exhibited all the glories of the vintage, with the gaieties of a French festival, no longer awakened St. Aubert to pleasure, whose condition formed a mournful contrast to the hilarity and youthful beauty which surrounded him. As his languid eyes moved over the scene, he considered, that they would soon, perhaps, be closed for ever on this world. 'Those distant and sublime mountains,'said he secretly, as he gazed on a chain of the Pyrenees that stretched towards the west, 'these luxuriant plains, this blue vault, the cheerful light of day, will be shut from my eyes! The song of the peasant, the cheering voice of man - will no longer sound for me!'

Original Português

As ricas planícies do Languedoc, que exibiam todas as glórias da vindima com a alegria de uma festa francesa, já não despertavam St. Aubert para o prazer, cuja condição formava um contraste doloroso com a hilaridade e a beleza juvenil que o cercavam. À medida que os seus olhos lânguidos percorriam a cena, considerava que em breve, talvez, se fechariam para sempre sobre este mundo. «Aquelas montanhas distantes e sublimes», disse ele consigo, ao fitar uma cadeia dos Pirineus que se estendia para o poente, «estas planícies exuberantes, esta abóbada azul, a luz alegre do dia, ficarão vedadas aos meus olhos! A canção do camponês, a voz reconfortante do homem - já não soarão para mim!»

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily parecia entender os pensamentos do pai pelos olhos dele. Ela olhou para ele com tanta piedade e ternura que ele esqueceu seu próprio pesar e pensou apenas em deixar a filha desprotegida. Isso tornou sua dor ainda mais forte. Ele suspirou profundamente e não disse nada. Ela pareceu entender o suspiro. Apertou a mão dele com carinho, depois se virou para a janela para esconder as lágrimas. O sol lançou uma última luz amarela sobre as ondas do Mediterrâneo, e a escuridão da noite logo cobriu a paisagem. Só restava um brilho triste no horizonte a oeste, mostrando onde o sol tinha se posto por trás da névoa de outono. Uma brisa fresca vinha da costa, e Emily abaixou a janela. Mas o ar fresco era bom para a saúde e ruim para a doença, então St. Aubert pediu que a janela fosse fechada de novo. Sua doença estava piorando, e ele estava mais ansioso do que nunca para terminar a viagem do dia. Ele parou o condutor das mulas e perguntou quanto faltava até a próxima parada. A resposta foi nove milhas. St. Aubert disse que não conseguiria ir muito mais longe e pediu a Michael que procurasse alguma casa na estrada onde pudessem passar a noite. Ele se recostou na carruagem, e Michael estalou o chicote e seguiu em disparada, até que St. Aubert, quase desmaiando, mandou que parasse. Emily olhou pela janela, ansiosa, e viu um camponês a certa distância na estrada. Eles o esperaram e perguntaram se havia alguma casa por perto para viajantes. Ele disse que não conhecia nenhuma. Mencionou um castelo nos bosques à direita, mas disse que provavelmente não recebia hóspedes e que ele não podia guiá-los, pois quase não conhecia aquele lugar. St. Aubert quis perguntar mais sobre o castelo, mas o homem seguiu rapidamente seu caminho. Depois de pensar um momento, St. Aubert disse a Michael para seguir devagar em direção aos bosques. O crepúsculo escurecia a cada minuto, e ficava cada vez mais difícil encontrar a estrada. Logo outro camponês passou. Michael gritou, perguntando o caminho para o castelo nos bosques.

Original English

The intelligent eyes of Emily seemed to read what passed in the mind of her father, and she fixed them on his face, with an expression of such tender pity, as recalled his thoughts from every desultory object of regret, and he remembered only, that he must leave his daughter without protection. This reflection changed regret to agony; he sighed deeply, and remained silent, while she seemed to understand that sigh, for she pressed his hand affectionately, and then turned to the window to conceal her tears. The sun now threw a last yellow gleam on the waves of the Mediterranean, and the gloom of twilight spread fast over the scene, till only a melancholy ray appeared on the western horizon, marking the point where the sun had set amid the vapours of an autumnal evening. A cool breeze now came from the shore, and Emily let down the glass; but the air, which was refreshing to health, was as chilling to sickness, and St. Aubert desired, that the window might be drawn up. Increasing illness made him now more anxious than ever to finish the day's journey, and he stopped the muleteer to enquire how far they had yet to go to the next post. He replied, 'Nine miles.''I feel I am unable to proceed much further,'said St. Aubert; 'enquire, as you go, if there is any house on the road that would accommodate us for the night.'He sunk back in the carriage, and Michael, cracking his whip in the air, set off, and continued on the full gallop, till St. Aubert, almost fainting, called to him to stop. Emily looked anxiously from the window, and saw a peasant walking at some little distance on the road, for whom they waited, till he came up, when he was asked, if there was any house in the neighbourhood that accommodated travellers. He replied, that he knew of none. 'There is a chateau, indeed, among those woods on the right,'added he, 'but I believe it receives nobody, and I cannot show you the way, for I am almost a stranger here.'St. Aubert was going to ask him some further question concerning the chateau, but the man abruptly passed on. After some consideration, he ordered Michael to proceed slowly to the woods. Every moment now deepened the twilight, and increased the difficulty of finding the road. Another peasant soon after passed. 'Which is the way to the chateau in the woods?'cried Michael.

Original Português

Os olhos inteligentes de Emily pareciam ler o que se passava no espírito do pai, e ela os fixou no rosto dele com uma expressão de tão terna piedade que recolheu os pensamentos dele de todo objeto desconexo de pesar, e ele lembrou-se apenas de que deveria deixar a filha sem proteção. Esta reflexão mudou o pesar em agonia; ele suspirou profundamente e permaneceu em silêncio, enquanto ela parecia compreender aquele suspiro, pois lhe apertou a mão afetuosamente, e depois voltou-se para a janela a fim de ocultar as lágrimas. O sol lançava agora um último clarão amarelo sobre as ondas do Mediterrâneo, e a penumbra do crepúsculo espalhava-se depressa sobre a cena, até que apenas um raio melancólico surgia no horizonte ocidental, marcando o ponto onde o sol se pusera em meio aos vapores de uma tarde de outono. Uma brisa fresca vinha agora da costa, e Emily abaixou o vidro; mas o ar, que era revigorante para a saúde, era tão gélido para a doença, que St. Aubert pediu que a janela fosse subida. A doença crescente tornava-o agora mais ansioso do que nunca por concluir a jornada do dia, e ele deteve o almocreve para perguntar quanto faltava ainda para a próxima parada. Este respondeu: «Nove milhas.» «Sinto que não sou capaz de prosseguir muito mais além», disse St. Aubert; «pergunta, pelo caminho, se há alguma casa na estrada que nos possa acomodar para a noite.» Recostou-se na carruagem, e Michael, estalando o chicote no ar, partiu, e continuou a todo galope, até que St. Aubert, quase desfalecido, lhe bradou que parasse. Emily olhou ansiosamente pela janela, e viu um camponês a caminhar a alguma distância na estrada, por quem esperaram até que ele se aproximasse, quando lhe perguntaram se havia alguma casa na vizinhança que acolhesse viajantes. Ele respondeu que não conhecia nenhuma. «Há, na verdade, um castelo entre aqueles bosques à direita», acrescentou, «mas creio que não recebe ninguém, e não vos posso indicar o caminho, pois sou quase um estranho por aqui.» St. Aubert ia fazer-lhe alguma outra pergunta acerca do castelo, mas o homem passou abruptamente adiante. Após alguma reflexão, ordenou a Michael que avançasse devagar em direção aos bosques. A cada momento agora aprofundava-se o crepúsculo, e aumentava a dificuldade de encontrar a estrada. Outro camponês logo depois passou. «Qual é o caminho para o castelo nos bosques?», bradou Michael.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'O castelo nos bosques!' exclamou o camponês. 'Você quer dizer aquele com a torre lá longe?'

Original English

'The chateau in the woods!'exclaimed the peasant - 'Do you mean that with the turret, yonder?'

Original Português

«O castelo nos bosques!», exclamou o camponês. «Quereis dizer aquele com a torre, ali adiante?»

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Não sei nada sobre essa torre que você diz,' respondeu Michael. 'Estou falando daquele prédio branco que a gente vê ao longe, entre as árvores.'

Original English

'I don't know as for the turret, as you call it,'said Michael, 'I mean that white piece of a building, that we see at a distance there, among the trees.'

Original Português

«Não sei quanto à torre, como lhe chamais», disse Michael, «refiro-me àquele pedaço de construção branca que vemos ao longe ali, entre as árvores.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Sim, essa é a torre. Mas quem são vocês, e por que estão indo para lá?' perguntou o homem, surpreso.

Original English

'Yes, that is the turret; why, who are you, that you are going thither?'said the man with surprise.

Original Português

«Sim, aquela é a torre; ora, quem sois vós, que ides para lá?», disse o homem com surpresa.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ao ouvir essa pergunta estranha, dita de um jeito esquisito, St. Aubert olhou para fora da carruagem. 'Somos viajantes,' disse ele. 'Estamos procurando um lugar para passar a noite. Há algum por aqui?'

Original English

St. Aubert, on hearing this odd question, and observing the peculiar tone in which it was delivered, looked out from the carriage. 'We are travellers,'said he, 'who are in search of a house of accommodation for the night; is there any hereabout?'

Original Português

St. Aubert, ao ouvir esta estranha pergunta, e observando o tom peculiar em que foi proferida, olhou de dentro da carruagem. «Somos viajantes», disse ele, «que buscam uma casa de acolhimento para a noite; há alguma por aqui perto?»

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Nenhum, Monsieur, a não ser que queiram tentar a sorte lá,' respondeu o camponês, apontando para os bosques. 'Mas eu não aconselharia vocês a ir.'

Original English

'None, Monsieur, unless you have a mind to try your luck yonder,'replied the peasant, pointing to the woods, 'but I would not advise you to go there.'

Original Português

«Nenhuma, monsieur, a não ser que tenhais vontade de tentar a sorte ali adiante», respondeu o camponês, apontando para os bosques, «mas eu não vos aconselharia a ir lá.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

'A quem pertence o castelo?'

'Eu mesmo quase não sei, Monsieur.'

'Então está vazio?' 'Não, não está vazio. Acredito que o administrador e a governanta estão lá.'

Original English

'To whom does the chateau belong?'

'I scarcely know myself, Monsieur.'

'It is uninhabited, then?''No, not uninhabited; the steward and housekeeper are there, I believe.'

Original Português

«A quem pertence o castelo?»

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Original Português

«Eu próprio mal o sei, monsieur.»

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Original Português

«Está desabitado, então?» «Não, não desabitado; o feitor e a governanta estão lá, creio eu.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ao ouvir isso, St. Aubert decidiu ir até o castelo e arriscar ser recusado como hóspede para a noite. Pediu ao camponês que mostrasse o caminho a Michael e prometeu uma recompensa pelo trabalho. Por um momento, o homem não disse nada. Depois disse que tinha outros afazeres, mas que não teriam como errar o caminho se pegassem a alameda à direita, que ele apontou. St. Aubert estava prestes a falar, mas o camponês desejou boa noite e foi embora.

Original English

On hearing this, St. Aubert determined to proceed to the chateau, and risque the refusal of being accommodated for the night; he therefore desired the countryman would shew Michael the way, and bade him expect reward for his trouble. The man was for a moment silent, and then said, that he was going on other business, but that the road could not be missed, if they went up an avenue to the right, to which he pointed. St. Aubert was going to speak, but the peasant wished him good night, and walked on.

Original Português

Ao ouvir isto, St. Aubert resolveu seguir até o castelo, arriscando a recusa de ser acolhido para a noite; pediu, pois, que o camponês indicasse a Michael o caminho, e disse-lhe que esperasse recompensa pelo seu incômodo. O homem ficou um momento silencioso, e depois disse que ia tratar de outro assunto, mas que o caminho não podia errar-se, se subissem por uma alameda à direita, que apontou. St. Aubert ia falar, mas o camponês desejou-lhe boa noite e seguiu adiante.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A carruagem seguiu em direção à alameda. Um portão a guardava. Michael desceu para abri-lo. Depois entraram entre velhos carvalhos e castanheiras. Os galhos formavam um arco alto por cima. A alameda parecia sombria e abandonada. Estava muito silenciosa. Emily quase tremeu enquanto avançavam. Ela se lembrou do que o camponês tinha dito sobre o castelo. Deu às palavras dele um sentido misterioso, algo que não tinha pensado quando ele falou. Ela tentou controlar seus medos. Achava que vinham de sua imaginação abatida. A situação de seu pai, e a dela própria, faziam com que sentisse cada impressão com muita força.

Original English

The carriage now moved towards the avenue, which was guarded by a gate, and Michael having dismounted to open it, they entered between rows of ancient oak and chesnut, whose intermingled branches formed a lofty arch above. There was something so gloomy and desolate in the appearance of this avenue, and its lonely silence, that Emily almost shuddered as she passed along; and, recollecting the manner in which the peasant had mentioned the chateau, she gave a mysterious meaning to his words, such as she had not suspected when he uttered them. These apprehensions, however, she tried to check, considering that they were probably the effect of a melancholy imagination, which her father's situation, and a consideration of her own circumstances, had made sensible to every impression.

Original Português

A carruagem moveu-se então em direção à alameda, que era guardada por um portão, e Michael, tendo desmontado para abri-lo, entraram por entre fileiras de antigos carvalhos e castanheiros, cujos ramos entrelaçados formavam um alto arco por cima. Havia algo de tão lúgubre e desolado no aspecto daquela alameda, e no seu solitário silêncio, que Emily quase estremeceu ao passar por ela; e, recordando a maneira como o camponês mencionara o castelo, atribuiu às palavras dele um sentido misterioso que não suspeitara quando ele as proferira. Estas apreensões, contudo, ela procurou reprimir, considerando que eram provavelmente o efeito de uma imaginação melancólica, que a situação do pai, e a consideração das suas próprias circunstâncias, haviam tornado sensível a toda impressão.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Eles seguiram devagar, pois já estava quase escuro. O chão era irregular, e raízes velhas de árvores saíam da terra, então precisavam ter cuidado. De repente, Michael parou a carruagem. St. Aubert olhou pela janela para perguntar por quê e viu uma figura se movendo pela alameda, a certa distância. A luz era fraca demais para saber quem era, mas ele disse a Michael para continuar.

Original English

They passed slowly on, for they were now almost in darkness, which, together with the unevenness of the ground, and the frequent roots of old trees, that shot up above the soil, made it necessary to proceed with caution. On a sudden Michael stopped the carriage; and, as St. Aubert looked from the window to enquire the cause, he perceived a figure at some distance moving up the avenue. The dusk would not permit him to distinguish what it was, but he bade Michael go on.

Original Português

Avançaram lentamente, pois estavam agora quase na escuridão, a qual, juntamente com a irregularidade do terreno, e as frequentes raízes de árvores velhas que brotavam acima do solo, tornava necessário prosseguir com cautela. De súbito Michael deteve a carruagem; e, ao olhar St. Aubert pela janela para indagar a causa, percebeu um vulto a certa distância movendo-se alameda acima. A penumbra não lhe permitia distinguir o que era, mas mandou Michael prosseguir.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Este lugar parece bem selvagem," disse Michael. "Não há casa nenhuma por perto. Sua excelência não acha melhor voltarmos?"

Original English

'This seems a wild place,'said Michael; 'there is no house hereabout, don't your honour think we had better turn back?'

Original Português

«Isto parece um lugar ermo», disse Michael; «não há casa nenhuma por aqui; vossa senhoria não acha que faríamos melhor em voltar?»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Vá um pouco mais adiante, e se ainda assim não virmos nenhuma casa, voltaremos para a estrada," respondeu St. Aubert.

Original English

'Go a little farther, and if we see no house then, we will return to the road,'replied St. Aubert.

Original Português

«Vai um pouco mais adiante, e, se então não virmos casa alguma, voltaremos à estrada», respondeu St. Aubert.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Michael continuou a contragosto, e foi tão devagar que St. Aubert olhou de novo pela janela e viu a mesma figura. Ficou um pouco assustado, talvez porque o lugar fosse tão sombrio. Então mandou Michael parar e gritar para a pessoa na alameda.

Original English

Michael proceeded with reluctance, and the extreme slowness of his pace made St. Aubert look again from the window to hasten him, when again he saw the same figure. He was somewhat startled: probably the gloominess of the spot made him more liable to alarm than usual; however this might be, he now stopped Michael, and bade him call to the person in the avenue.

Original Português

Michael prosseguiu a contragosto, e a extrema lentidão do seu passo fez St. Aubert olhar de novo pela janela para apressá-lo, quando de novo viu o mesmo vulto. Ficou algo sobressaltado: provavelmente a lugubridade do sítio tornava-o mais sujeito ao alarme do que de costume; fosse como fosse, deteve então Michael, e mandou-o chamar a pessoa na alameda.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Com todo respeito, sua excelência, ele pode ser um ladrão," disse Michael. "Isso não me agrada nada," respondeu St. Aubert, sorrindo com as palavras simples de Michael. "Então vamos voltar para a estrada, porque há pouca chance de encontrarmos aqui o que procuramos."

Original English

'Please your honour, he may be a robber,'said Michael. 'It does not please me,'replied St. Aubert, who could not forbear smiling at the simplicity of his phrase, 'and we will, therefore, return to the road, for I see no probability of meeting here with what we seek.'

Original Português

«Com licença de vossa senhoria, pode ser um salteador», disse Michael. «Não me apraz isso», respondeu St. Aubert, que não pôde conter um sorriso diante da simplicidade da frase, «e, portanto, voltaremos à estrada, pois não vejo probabilidade de encontrar aqui o que buscamos.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

Michael virou a carruagem na hora e apressou-se para voltar, quando uma voz foi ouvida entre as árvores à esquerda. Não era uma voz de comando nem de sofrimento, mas um som profundo e oco, que parecia quase não humano. Michael chicoteou as mulas e as fez correr o mais rápido que pôde, sem se importar com a escuridão, o terreno irregular, ou a segurança dos outros. Só parou quando chegaram ao portão que ligava a alameda à estrada principal, onde diminuiu a velocidade.

Original English

Michael turned about immediately, and was retracing his way with alacrity, when a voice was heard from among the trees on the left. It was not the voice of command, or distress, but a deep hollow tone, which seemed to be scarcely human. The man whipped his mules till they went as fast as possible, regardless of the darkness, the broken ground, and the necks of the whole party, nor once stopped till he reached the gate, which opened from the avenue into the high-road, where he went into a more moderate pace.

Original Português

Michael deu volta imediatamente, e refazia o seu caminho com presteza, quando uma voz se ouviu por entre as árvores à esquerda. Não era voz de comando, nem de aflição, mas um tom profundo e cavo, que parecia mal ser humano. O homem fustigou as mulas até que fossem o mais depressa possível, sem se importar com a escuridão, o terreno acidentado, nem os pescoços de todo o grupo, e não parou uma só vez até alcançar o portão, que se abria da alameda para a estrada real, onde tomou um passo mais moderado.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Estou muito mal," disse St. Aubert, segurando a mão de Emily. "Então o senhor está pior!" gritou Emily, muito assustada com o jeito dele. "O senhor está pior, e não há ajuda aqui. O que vamos fazer?" Ele apoiou a cabeça no ombro dela, e ela tentou sustentá-lo com o braço. Michael foi mandado parar de novo. Quando o som das rodas cessou, ouviu-se música no ar. Para Emily, aquilo soou como esperança. "Ah, estamos perto de alguma casa!" disse ela. "Podemos encontrar ajuda logo."

Original English

'I am very ill,'said St. Aubert, taking his daughter's hand. 'You are worse, then, sir!'said Emily, extremely alarmed by his manner, 'you are worse, and here is no assistance. Good God! what is to be done!'He leaned his head on her shoulder, while she endeavoured to support him with her arm, and Michael was again ordered to stop. When the rattling of the wheels had ceased, music was heard on their air; it was to Emily the voice of Hope. 'Oh! we are near some human habitation!'said she, 'help may soon be had.'

Original Português

«Estou muito mal», disse St. Aubert, tomando a mão da filha. «Estais pior, então, senhor!», disse Emily, extremamente alarmada com a maneira dele, «estais pior, e aqui não há socorro. Santo Deus! que se há de fazer!» Ele reclinou a cabeça sobre o ombro dela, enquanto ela procurava ampará-lo com o braço, e Michael foi de novo mandado parar. Quando o chocalhar das rodas cessou, ouviu-se música no ar; era para Emily a voz da Esperança. «Oh! estamos perto de alguma habitação humana!», disse ela, «socorro pode chegar em breve.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ela escutou, ansiosa. A música vinha de longe e parecia sair de dentro dos bosques, perto da estrada. Olhando naquela direção, ela viu algo parecido com um castelo sob o luar pálido. Mas era difícil chegar até lá. St. Aubert estava mal demais para suportar o movimento da carruagem, Michael não podia deixar as mulas, e Emily não ousava deixar o pai sozinho, nem ir sozinha a um lugar desconhecido. Ela precisava decidir rápido. St. Aubert disse a Michael para seguir devagar, mas depois de pouca distância ele desmaiou, e a carruagem parou de novo. Ele ficou desacordado. "Meu querido pai!" gritou Emily, com um medo terrível. "Fale, nem que seja só uma palavra!" Mas não houve resposta. Ela mandou Michael buscar água num riacho perto da estrada. Usando o chapéu dele, jogou água no rosto do pai, que agora parecia pálido como a morte sob o luar. Seu medo por si mesma desapareceu, e ela deixou St. Aubert com Michael, que não se afastaria muito das mulas. Depois desceu da carruagem para procurar o castelo que tinha visto. A noite estava parada, e a música a guiou da estrada por uma trilha escura, para dentro dos bosques. No começo, ela só pensava no pai, mas quando as árvores ficaram mais densas e bloquearam o luar, e o lugar pareceu mais selvagem, ela entendeu o quanto sua situação era perigosa. A música tinha parado, e ela não tinha guia nenhum. Parou, com medo, mas seguiu em frente por causa do estado do pai. A trilha terminava nos bosques, mas ela não via casa nem pessoa alguma, e não ouvia nada que a guiasse. Continuou andando, evitando as partes mais fechadas da floresta e ficando perto da borda, até que uma alameda rústica, que se abria para um lugar iluminado pela lua, chamou sua atenção. O aspecto selvagem lembrou a ela a alameda que levava ao castelo com a torre, e ela achou que aquilo podia fazer parte da mesma propriedade. Enquanto se perguntava se deveria segui-la, vozes altas e risadas alegres explodiram no ar. Não pareciam felizes, mas selvagens e barulhentas, e ela ficou parada, alarmada. Então ouviu uma voz chamando, vinda do caminho por onde tinha vindo. Pensando que fosse Michael, quis correr de volta. Mas então lembrou que Michael não deixaria as mulas a não ser que fosse forçado a isso, e, temendo que o pai estivesse morrendo, correu para frente, na esperança de conseguir ajuda das pessoas nos bosques. Seu coração batia forte enquanto se aproximava das vozes, e ela se assustava com o som das folhas sob seus pés. As vozes a levaram até uma clareira iluminada pela lua. Ali, entre os troncos das árvores, ela viu um pequeno espaço redondo de grama verde, cercado por bosques, com um grupo de pessoas nele. Ao se aproximar, viu que eram camponeses, e notou várias cabanas ao redor da borda da floresta. Enquanto ainda estava assustada e insegura, algumas moças camponesas saíram de uma cabana. A música começou na hora, e a dança teve início. Era a mesma música alegre da colheita que ela tinha ouvido antes. Mas Emily estava preocupada demais com o pai para notar o contraste entre essa cena feliz e sua própria dor. Correu até um grupo de camponeses mais velhos sentados perto da porta de uma cabana, explicou seu problema e pediu ajuda. Vários deles se levantaram rapidamente, ofereceram a ajuda que podiam e seguiram Emily o mais rápido possível de volta para a estrada.

Original English

She listened anxiously; the sounds were distant, and seemed to come from a remote part of the woods that bordered the road; and, as she looked towards the spot whence they issued, she perceived in the faint moon-light something like a chateau. It was difficult, however, to reach this; St. Aubert was now too ill to bear the motion of the carriage; Michael could not quit his mules; and Emily, who still supported her father, feared to leave him, and also feared to venture alone to such a distance, she knew not whither, or to whom. Something, however, it was necessary to determine upon immediately; St. Aubert, therefore, told Michael to proceed slowly; but they had not gone far, when he fainted, and the carriage was again stopped. He lay quite senseless. - 'My dear, dear father!'cried Emily in great agony, who began to fear that he was dying, 'speak, if it is only one word to let me hear the sound of your voice!'But no voice spoke in reply. In the agony of terror she bade Michael bring water from the rivulet, that flowed along the road; and, having received some in the man's hat, with trembling hands she sprinkled it over her father's face, which, as the moon's rays now fell upon it, seemed to bear the impression of death. Every emotion of selfish fear now gave way to a stronger influence, and, committing St. Aubert to the care of Michael, who refused to go far from his mules, she stepped from the carriage in search of the chateau she had seen at a distance. It was a still moon-light night, and the music, which yet sounded on the air, directed her steps from the high road, up a shadowy lane, that led to the woods. Her mind was for some time so entirely occupied by anxiety and terror for her father, that she felt none for herself, till the deepening gloom of the overhanging foliage, which now wholly excluded the moon-light, and the wildness of the place, recalled her to a sense of her adventurous situation. The music had ceased, and she had no guide but chance. For a moment she paused in terrified perplexity, till a sense of her father's condition again overcoming every consideration for herself, she proceeded. The lane terminated in the woods, but she looked round in vain for a house, or a human being, and as vainly listened for a sound to guide her. She hurried on, however, not knowing whither, avoiding the recesses of the woods, and endeavouring to keep along their margin, till a rude kind of avenue, which opened upon a moon-light spot, arrested her attention. The wildness of this avenue brought to her recollection the one leading to the turreted chateau, and she was inclined to believe, that this was a part of the same domain, and probably led to the same point. While she hesitated, whether to follow it or not, a sound of many voices in loud merriment burst upon her ear. It seemed not the laugh of cheerfulness, but of riot, and she stood appalled. While she paused, she heard a distant voice, calling from the way she had come, and not doubting but it was that of Michael, her first impulse was to hasten back; but a second thought changed her purpose; she believed that nothing less than the last extremity could have prevailed with Michael to quit his mules, and fearing that her father was now dying, she rushed forward, with a feeble hope of obtaining assistance from the people in the woods. Her heart beat with fearful expectation, as she drew near the spot whence the voices issued, and she often startled when her steps disturbed the fallen leaves. The sounds led her towards the moon-light glade she had before noticed; at a little distance from which she stopped, and saw, between the boles of the trees, a small circular level of green turf, surrounded by the woods, on which appeared a group of figures. On drawing nearer, she distinguished these, by their dress, to be peasants, and perceived several cottages scattered round the edge of the woods, which waved loftily over this spot. While she gazed, and endeavoured to overcome the apprehensions that withheld her steps, several peasant girls came out of a cottage; music instantly struck up, and the dance began. It was the joyous music of the vintage! the same she had before heard upon the air. Her heart, occupied with terror for her father, could not feel the contrast, which this gay scene offered to her own distress; she stepped hastily forward towards a group of elder peasants, who were seated at the door of a cottage, and, having explained her situation, entreated their assistance. Several of them rose with alacrity, and, offering any service in their power, followed Emily, who seemed to move on the wind, as fast as they could towards the road.

Original Português

Ela escutou ansiosamente; os sons eram distantes, e pareciam vir de uma parte remota dos bosques que ladeavam a estrada; e, ao olhar para o lugar de onde provinham, percebeu à tênue luz do luar algo semelhante a um castelo. Era difícil, contudo, alcançá-lo; St. Aubert estava agora doente demais para suportar o movimento da carruagem; Michael não podia deixar as suas mulas; e Emily, que ainda amparava o pai, temia deixá-lo, e temia também aventurar-se sozinha a tamanha distância, não sabia para onde, nem a quem. Algo, porém, era necessário resolver imediatamente; St. Aubert, portanto, disse a Michael que prosseguisse devagar; mas não haviam ido longe quando ele desfaleceu, e a carruagem foi de novo detida. Jazia inteiramente sem sentidos. - «Meu querido, querido pai!», bradou Emily em grande agonia, começando a temer que ele estivesse morrendo, «fala, ainda que seja uma só palavra, para que eu ouça o som da tua voz!» Mas nenhuma voz respondeu. Na agonia do terror, mandou Michael trazer água do regato que corria ao longo da estrada; e, tendo recebido um pouco no chapéu do homem, com mãos trêmulas aspergiu-a sobre o rosto do pai, o qual, à medida que os raios da lua agora caíam sobre ele, parecia trazer o cunho da morte. Todo impulso de temor egoísta cedeu então a uma influência mais forte, e, confiando St. Aubert aos cuidados de Michael, que se recusava a afastar-se muito de suas mulas, ela desceu da carruagem em busca do castelo que avistara à distância. Era uma noite serena de luar, e a música, que ainda soava no ar, dirigia-lhe os passos da estrada real para cima, por uma vereda sombreada que conduzia aos bosques. O seu espírito esteve por algum tempo tão inteiramente ocupado pela ansiedade e pelo terror pelo pai que não sentiu nenhum por si mesma, até que a penumbra cada vez mais densa da folhagem suspensa, que agora excluía por completo o luar, e a agreste solidão do lugar, a chamaram à consciência da sua situação temerária. A música cessara, e ela não tinha outro guia senão o acaso. Por um momento deteve-se em aterrada perplexidade, até que o pensamento da condição do pai novamente sobrepujando toda consideração por si mesma, prosseguiu. A vereda terminava nos bosques, mas ela olhou em vão à sua volta em busca de uma casa, ou de um ser humano, e em vão escutou por algum som que a guiasse. Apressou-se, contudo, sem saber para onde, evitando os recessos dos bosques, e procurando manter-se ao longo de sua orla, até que uma espécie de alameda rústica, que se abria sobre um sítio banhado de luar, lhe prendeu a atenção. A agrestidade daquela alameda trouxe-lhe à lembrança a que conduzia ao castelo torreado, e ela ficou inclinada a crer que aquela era parte do mesmo domínio, e provavelmente conduzia ao mesmo ponto. Enquanto hesitava se a seguiria ou não, um som de muitas vozes em ruidosa folia irrompeu-lhe aos ouvidos. Não parecia o riso da alegria, mas o da orgia, e ela ficou aterrada. Enquanto se detinha, ouviu uma voz distante, chamando da direção por onde viera, e, não duvidando de que fosse a de Michael, o seu primeiro impulso foi correr de volta; mas um segundo pensamento mudou-lhe a intenção; acreditou que nada menos que a última extremidade poderia ter levado Michael a deixar as suas mulas, e, temendo que o pai estivesse agora morrendo, precipitou-se adiante, com uma débil esperança de obter socorro das pessoas nos bosques. O seu coração batia com temerosa expectativa à medida que se aproximava do lugar de onde as vozes provinham, e sobressaltava-se amiúde quando os seus passos revolviam as folhas caídas. Os sons a conduziram para a clareira enluarada que antes notara; a pouca distância desta ela parou, e viu, por entre os troncos das árvores, um pequeno nível circular de relva verde, cercado pelos bosques, sobre o qual aparecia um grupo de figuras. Ao aproximar-se mais, distinguiu-as, pelas suas vestes, como camponeses, e percebeu várias cabanas espalhadas pela orla dos bosques, que ondulavam altaneiros sobre aquele sítio. Enquanto olhava, e procurava vencer as apreensões que lhe retinham os passos, várias moças camponesas saíram de uma cabana; a música instantaneamente rompeu, e a dança começou. Era a jubilosa música da vindima! a mesma que antes ouvira no ar. O seu coração, ocupado pelo terror pelo pai, não pôde sentir o contraste que aquela cena alegre oferecia à sua própria aflição; adiantou-se apressada em direção a um grupo de camponeses mais idosos, que estavam sentados à porta de uma cabana, e, tendo-lhes explicado a sua situação, implorou-lhes auxílio. Vários deles ergueram-se com presteza, e, oferecendo todo serviço em seu poder, seguiram Emily, que parecia mover-se sobre o vento, tão depressa quanto podiam em direção à estrada.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando ela voltou para a carruagem, encontrou St. Aubert acordado de novo. Depois de se recuperar, ele soube por Michael para onde Emily tinha ido, e sua preocupação com ela ficou mais forte do que a preocupação com ele mesmo. Ele tinha mandado Michael procurá-la. Ainda estava fraco e sabia que não podia viajar muito mais longe. Então voltou a perguntar sobre uma estalagem e sobre o castelo nos bosques. "O castelo não pode recebê-lo, senhor," disse um camponês idoso que tinha seguido Emily desde os bosques. "Quase ninguém mora lá. Mas se o senhor me der a honra de vir até minha cabana, será bem-vindo à melhor cama que eu tenho."

Original English

When she reached the carriage she found St. Aubert restored to animation. On the recovery of his senses, having heard from Michael whither his daughter was gone, anxiety for her overcame every regard for himself, and he had sent him in search of her. He was, however, still languid, and, perceiving himself unable to travel much farther, he renewed his enquiries for an inn, and concerning the chateau in the woods. 'The chateau cannot accommodate you, sir,'said a venerable peasant who had followed Emily from the woods, 'it is scarcely inhabited; but, if you will do me the honour to visit my cottage, you shall be welcome to the best bed it affords.'

Original Português

Quando alcançou a carruagem, encontrou St. Aubert restituído à animação. Ao recobrar os sentidos, e tendo sabido de Michael para onde a filha fora, a ansiedade por ela sobrepujou toda consideração por si mesmo, e ele o mandara em busca dela. Estava, porém, ainda lânguido, e, percebendo-se incapaz de viajar muito mais além, renovou as suas indagações por uma estalagem, e a respeito do castelo nos bosques. «O castelo não pode acomodar-vos, senhor», disse um venerável camponês que seguira Emily desde os bosques, «mal está habitado; mas, se me quiserdes dar a honra de visitar a minha cabana, sereis bem-vindo ao melhor leito que ela oferece.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert era francês, então a cortesia francesa não o surpreendia. Mas ele estava doente, e se sentiu ainda mais grato pelo jeito gentil com que a oferta foi feita. Era educado demais para se desculpar ou fingir hesitação, então aceitou a hospitalidade do camponês na hora, com a mesma sinceridade com que ela foi oferecida.

Original English

St. Aubert was himself a Frenchman; he therefore was not surprised at French courtesy; but, ill as he was, he felt the value of the offer enhanced by the manner which accompanied it. He had too much delicacy to apologize, or to appear to hesitate about availing himself of the peasant's hospitality, but immediately accepted it with the same frankness with which it was offered.

Original Português

St. Aubert era ele próprio francês; não se surpreendeu, portanto, com a cortesia francesa; mas, doente como estava, sentiu o valor da oferta realçado pela maneira que a acompanhava. Tinha demasiada delicadeza para desculpar-se, ou para parecer hesitar em valer-se da hospitalidade do camponês, mas aceitou-a imediatamente com a mesma franqueza com que fora oferecida.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A carruagem seguiu devagar de novo. Michael acompanhou os camponeses pela trilha que Emily tinha acabado de deixar, até chegarem a uma clareira iluminada pela lua. St. Aubert se sentia muito melhor por causa da gentileza de seu anfitrião e da esperança de descansar. Ele observava com prazer tranquilo os bosques ao luar, onde aberturas entre as árvores deixavam entrar luz clara e mostravam uma cabana ou um riacho brilhante. Ouvia sem incômodo o violão animado e o pandeiro. Quando viu a dança alegre dos camponeses, lágrimas vieram a seus olhos, mas não eram só lágrimas de tristeza. Emily sentia algo diferente. Seu primeiro medo pelo pai já tinha passado, e agora ela sentia apenas uma tristeza suave, que ficava mais forte a cada som alegre ao redor.

Original English

The carriage again moved slowly on; Michael following the peasants up the lane, which Emily had just quitted, till they came to the moon-light glade. St. Aubert's spirits were so far restored by the courtesy of his host, and the near prospect of repose, that he looked with a sweet complacency upon the moon-light scene, surrounded by the shadowy woods, through which, here and there, an opening admitted the streaming splendour, discovering a cottage, or a sparkling rivulet. He listened, with no painful emotion, to the merry notes of the guitar and tamborine; and, though tears came to his eyes, when he saw the debonnaire dance of the peasants, they were not merely tears of mournful regret. With Emily it was otherwise; immediate terror for her father had now subsided into a gentle melancholy, which every note of joy, by awakening comparison, served to heighten.

Original Português

A carruagem novamente moveu-se devagar; Michael seguindo os camponeses pela vereda que Emily acabava de deixar, até chegarem à clareira enluarada. O ânimo de St. Aubert estava até tal ponto restaurado pela cortesia do seu anfitrião, e pela próxima perspectiva de repouso, que ele contemplava com doce complacência a cena banhada de luar, cercada pelos sombrios bosques, através dos quais, aqui e ali, uma clareira admitia o esplendor que se derramava, revelando uma cabana, ou um regato cintilante. Escutava, sem dolorosa emoção, as alegres notas da guitarra e do pandeiro; e, embora as lágrimas lhe viessem aos olhos ao ver a garbosa dança dos camponeses, não eram meramente lágrimas de triste pesar. Com Emily era diferente; o terror imediato pelo pai havia agora baixado a uma suave melancolia, que cada nota de alegria, ao despertar a comparação, servia para aprofundar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A dança parou quando a carruagem se aproximou, o que era incomum naqueles bosques tranquilos, e os moradores se reuniram ao redor dela com grande curiosidade. Quando souberam que ela trazia um estranho doente, várias moças correram pela grama e voltaram com vinho e cestas de uvas. Deram tudo aos viajantes, cada uma querendo ser a mais gentil. Por fim, a carruagem parou numa cabana arrumada. O homem idoso que os guiava ajudou St. Aubert a descer e depois o levou, junto com Emily, a um pequeno cômodo interno iluminado apenas pelo luar que entrava pela janela aberta. St. Aubert se sentou, feliz por descansar, respirando o ar fresco e doce e o cheiro de madressilva. O anfitrião deles, chamado La Voisin, saiu do cômodo e logo voltou com frutas, creme, e a melhor comida do campo que sua cabana podia oferecer. Colocou tudo na mesa com um sorriso caloroso e ficou de pé atrás da cadeira do convidado. St. Aubert o convidou para se sentar à mesa, e depois que as frutas aliviaram sua febre e ele se sentiu melhor, começou a conversar com ele. La Voisin falou abertamente sobre si mesmo e sua família, e suas palavras mostravam verdadeiro amor e bondade familiar. Emily se sentou ao lado do pai, segurando sua mão, e enquanto ouvia, sentia o coração se encher de compaixão. Ela também chorou, porque pensava que a morte logo levaria embora a bênção mais querida que tinha. O luar suave da noite de outono e a música triste ao longe a deixavam ainda mais melancólica. La Voisin continuou falando sobre a família, enquanto St. Aubert ficava em silêncio. Ele disse que só uma filha ainda estava viva, mas que ela era feliz no casamento e significava tudo para ele. Depois que a esposa morreu, ele foi morar com Agnes e a família dela. Ela tinha vários filhos, e todos estavam dançando no gramado ali perto. Ele esperava que continuassem felizes, e esperava morrer entre eles. Sabia que era velho e não viveria muito, mas encontrava consolo na ideia de morrer cercado pelos filhos.

Original English

The dance ceased on the approach of the carriage, which was a phenomenon in these sequestered woods, and the peasantry flocked round it with eager curiosity. On learning that it brought a sick stranger, several girls ran across the turf, and returned with wine and baskets of grapes, which they presented to the travellers, each with kind contention pressing for a preference. At length, the carriage stopped at a neat cottage, and his venerable conductor, having assisted St. Aubert to alight, led him and Emily to a small inner room, illuminated only by moon-beams, which the open casement admitted. St. Aubert, rejoicing in rest, seated himself in an arm-chair, and his senses were refreshed by the cool and balmy air, that lightly waved the embowering honeysuckles, and wafted their sweet breath into the apartment. His host, who was called La Voisin, quitted the room, but soon returned with fruits, cream, and all the pastoral luxury his cottage afforded; having set down which, with a smile of unfeigned welcome, he retired behind the chair of his guest. St. Aubert insisted on his taking a seat at the table, and, when the fruit had allayed the fever of his palate, and he found himself somewhat revived, he began to converse with his host, who communicated several particulars concerning himself and his family, which were interesting, because they were spoken from the heart, and delineated a picture of the sweet courtesies of family kindness. Emily sat by her father, holding his hand, and, while she listened to the old man, her heart swelled with the affectionate sympathy he described, and her tears fell to the mournful consideration, that death would probably soon deprive her of the dearest blessing she then possessed. The soft moon-light of an autumnal evening, and the distant music, which now sounded a plaintive strain, aided the melancholy of her mind. The old man continued to talk of his family, and St. Aubert remained silent. 'I have only one daughter living,'said La Voisin, 'but she is happily married, and is every thing to me. When I lost my wife,'he added with a sigh, 'I came to live with Agnes, and her family; she has several children, who are all dancing on the green yonder, as merry as grasshoppers - and long may they be so! I hope to die among them, monsieur. I am old now, and cannot expect to live long, but there is some comfort in dying surrounded by one's children.'

Original Português

A dança cessou à aproximação da carruagem, que era um fenômeno naqueles bosques recônditos, e a camponesada acorreu em torno dela com ávida curiosidade. Ao saberem que trazia um forasteiro doente, várias moças correram pela relva, e voltaram com vinho e cestos de uvas, que apresentaram aos viajantes, cada uma em amável disputa insistindo por uma preferência. Por fim, a carruagem deteve-se junto a uma asseada cabana, e o seu venerável guia, tendo ajudado St. Aubert a apear-se, conduziu-o, com Emily, a um pequeno aposento interior, iluminado apenas pelos raios da lua, que a janela aberta admitia. St. Aubert, regozijando-se com o repouso, sentou-se numa poltrona, e os seus sentidos foram refrescados pelo ar fresco e balsâmico, que agitava levemente as madressilvas que emolduravam a janela, e trazia o seu doce hálito para dentro do aposento. O seu anfitrião, que se chamava La Voisin, saiu do aposento, mas logo voltou com frutos, creme, e todo o luxo pastoril que a sua cabana oferecia; tendo-os posto sobre a mesa, com um sorriso de sincero acolhimento, retirou-se para trás da cadeira de seu hóspede. St. Aubert insistiu em que ele tomasse assento à mesa, e, quando os frutos aplacaram a febre do seu paladar, e ele se sentiu um tanto revigorado, começou a conversar com o seu anfitrião, que lhe comunicou vários pormenores acerca de si mesmo e de sua família, os quais eram interessantes porque eram ditos do coração, e delineavam um quadro das doces cortesias da bondade familiar. Emily estava sentada junto ao pai, segurando-lhe a mão, e, enquanto escutava o velho, o seu coração intumescia com a afetuosa simpatia que ele descrevia, e as suas lágrimas caíam à dolorosa consideração de que a morte em breve, provavelmente, a privaria da mais querida bênção que então possuía. O suave luar de uma tarde de outono, e a música distante, que agora entoava um lamento, ajudavam a melancolia do seu espírito. O velho continuou a falar de sua família, e St. Aubert permaneceu silencioso. «Só tenho uma filha viva», disse La Voisin, «mas ela está felizmente casada, e é tudo para mim. Quando perdi a minha mulher», acrescentou com um suspiro, «vim viver com Agnes e a sua família; ela tem vários filhos, que estão todos dançando ali na relva, alegres como gafanhotos - e assim permaneçam por muito tempo! Espero morrer entre eles, monsieur. Sou velho agora, e não posso esperar viver muito, mas há algum conforto em morrer cercado dos próprios filhos.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Meu bom amigo,' disse St. Aubert com a voz trêmula, 'espero que o senhor viva muito tempo com eles.'

Original English

'My good friend,'said St. Aubert, while his voice trembled, 'I hope you will long live surrounded by them.'

Original Português

«Meu bom amigo», disse St. Aubert, enquanto a sua voz tremia, «espero que vivais por muito tempo cercado deles.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Ah, senhor! Na minha idade, não devo ter essa esperança,' respondeu o velho. Ele fez uma pausa. 'Mal posso desejar isso. Confio que vou para o céu, onde está minha esposa. Às vezes acho que a vejo numa noite tranquila de luar, andando por esses bosques que ela amava. O senhor acredita que podemos voltar à terra depois de morrer?'

Original English

'Ah, sir! at my age I must not expect that!'replied the old man, and he paused: 'I can scarcely wish it,'he resumed, 'for I trust that whenever I die I shall go to heaven, where my poor wife is gone before me. I can sometimes almost fancy I see her of a still moon-light night, walking among these shades she loved so well. Do you believe, monsieur, that we shall be permitted to revisit the earth, after we have quitted the body?'

Original Português

«Ah, senhor! na minha idade não devo esperar isso!», respondeu o velho, e fez uma pausa: «Mal o posso desejar», retomou, «pois confio que, sempre que morrer, irei para o céu, para onde a minha pobre mulher se foi antes de mim. Às vezes quase posso imaginar que a vejo numa serena noite de luar, caminhando entre estas sombras que ela tanto amava. Credes, monsieur, que nos será permitido revisitar a terra, depois de havermos deixado o corpo?»

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily não conseguiu mais segurar o choro. As lágrimas caíam rápido sobre a mão do pai, que ela ainda segurava. Ele tentou falar e por fim disse, baixinho: "Espero que possamos olhar para os que deixamos na terra, mas só posso ter essa esperança. O futuro é escondido de nós, e a fé e a esperança são nossos únicos guias. Não nos foi dito que os espíritos cuidam dos amigos que amaram, mas podemos ter essa esperança com segurança. Eu nunca vou abandoná-la," disse ele, enxugando as lágrimas dos olhos de Emily. "Isso vai suavizar os momentos amargos da morte." Lágrimas escorriam devagar pelo rosto dele. La Voisin também chorou, e houve um silêncio. Depois La Voisin disse de novo: "Mas o senhor acredita, então, que vamos encontrar em outro mundo a família que amamos neste? Eu preciso acreditar nisso." "Então acredite," respondeu St. Aubert. "A dor da separação seria enorme se achássemos que ela dura para sempre. Olhe para cima, minha querida Emily, vamos nos encontrar de novo!" Ele levantou os olhos para o céu, e o luar em seu rosto mostrava paz e calma tomando conta de sua tristeza.

Original English

Emily could no longer stifle the anguish of her heart; her tears fell fast upon her father's hand, which she yet held. He made an effort to speak, and at length said in a low voice, 'I hope we shall be permitted to look down on those we have left on the earth, but I can only hope it. Futurity is much veiled from our eyes, and faith and hope are our only guides concerning it. We are not enjoined to believe, that disembodied spirits watch over the friends they have loved, but we may innocently hope it. It is a hope which I will never resign,'continued he, while he wiped the tears from his daughter's eyes, 'it will sweeten the bitter moments of death!'Tears fell slowly on his cheeks; La Voisin wept too, and there was a pause of silence. Then, La Voisin, renewing the subject, said, 'But you believe, sir, that we shall meet in another world the relations we have loved in this; I must believe this.''Then do believe it,'replied St. Aubert, 'severe, indeed, would be the pangs of separation, if we believed it to be eternal. Look up, my dear Emily, we shall meet again!'He lifted his eyes towards heaven, and a gleam of moon-light, which fell upon his countenance, discovered peace and resignation, stealing on the lines of sorrow.

Original Português

Emily já não pôde sufocar a angústia do seu coração; as suas lágrimas caíam depressa sobre a mão do pai, que ela ainda segurava. Ele fez um esforço para falar, e por fim disse em voz baixa: «Espero que nos seja permitido olhar para baixo, para aqueles que deixamos na terra, mas só o posso esperar. O futuro está muito velado aos nossos olhos, e a fé e a esperança são os nossos únicos guias a seu respeito. Não nos é ordenado crer que os espíritos desencarnados velem sobre os amigos que amaram, mas podemos inocentemente esperá-lo. É uma esperança à qual jamais renunciarei», continuou ele, enquanto enxugava as lágrimas dos olhos da filha, «ela adoçará os amargos momentos da morte!» Lágrimas caíam-lhe lentamente pelas faces; La Voisin também chorou, e houve uma pausa de silêncio. Então, La Voisin, retomando o assunto, disse: «Mas credes, senhor, que reencontraremos em outro mundo os parentes que amamos neste; hei de crer nisto.» «Então crê nisto», respondeu St. Aubert, «severas, na verdade, seriam as dores da separação, se acreditássemos que ela é eterna. Ergue os olhos, minha querida Emily, havemos de nos reencontrar!» Ergueu os olhos para o céu, e um clarão de luar, que lhe caiu sobre o semblante, revelou paz e resignação a insinuarem-se pelos traços da dor.

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B1 Português (simplified)

La Voisin sentiu que tinha falado demais sobre aquilo, então mudou de assunto e disse: "Está escuro. Esqueci de trazer uma luz."

Original English

La Voisin felt that he had pursued the subject too far, and he dropped it, saying, 'We are in darkness, I forgot to bring a light.'

Original Português

La Voisin sentiu que levara o assunto longe demais, e deixou-o cair, dizendo: «Estamos na escuridão, esqueci-me de trazer uma luz.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Não,' disse St. Aubert, 'eu gosto dessa luz. Sente-se, meu amigo. Emily, minha querida, estou me sentindo melhor do que o dia todo. Esse ar me revigora. Estou gostando dessa hora tranquila e da música que flutua tão bem ao longe. Deixe-me ver você sorrir. Quem toca o violão tão bem? São dois instrumentos, ou é um eco?'

Original English

'No,'said St. Aubert, 'this is a light I love. Sit down, my good friend. Emily, my love, I find myself better than I have been all day; this air refreshes me. I can enjoy this tranquil hour, and that music, which floats so sweetly at a distance. Let me see you smile. Who touches that guitar so tastefully? are there two instruments, or is it an echo I hear?'

Original Português

«Não», disse St. Aubert, «esta é uma luz que eu amo. Sentai-vos, meu bom amigo. Emily, meu amor, sinto-me melhor do que estive o dia inteiro; este ar me refresca. Posso desfrutar desta hora tranquila, e daquela música que flutua tão docemente ao longe. Deixa-me ver-te sorrir. Quem toca aquela guitarra com tanto gosto? há dois instrumentos, ou é um eco o que ouço?»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Acho que é um eco, monsieur. Esse violão é ouvido com frequência à noite, quando tudo está parado, mas ninguém sabe quem toca. Às vezes uma voz se junta a ele, tão doce e triste que a gente pensaria que os bosques são mal-assombrados." "Com certeza são mal-assombrados," disse St. Aubert com um sorriso. "Mas acredito que por gente viva." "Já ouvi isso à meia-noite, quando não conseguia dormir," disse La Voisin, como se não tivesse percebido a piada. "Chegou quase debaixo da minha janela, e nunca ouvi música assim. Muitas vezes me lembrou da minha pobre esposa, a ponto de eu chorar. Fui até a janela para ver se conseguia encontrar alguém, mas assim que abri, tudo ficou em silêncio e não havia ninguém. Já escutei tanto tempo que até o farfalhar das folhas ao vento me assustou. Dizem que essa música avisa sobre a morte, mas eu a ouço há muitos anos e já vivi além do aviso."

Original English

'It is an echo, monsieur, I fancy. That guitar is often heard at night, when all is still, but nobody knows who touches it, and it is sometimes accompanied by a voice so sweet, and so sad, one would almost think the woods were haunted.''They certainly are haunted,'said St. Aubert with a smile, 'but I believe it is by mortals.''I have sometimes heard it at midnight, when I could not sleep,'rejoined La Voisin, not seeming to notice this remark, 'almost under my window, and I never heard any music like it. It has often made me think of my poor wife till I cried. I have sometimes got up to the window to look if I could see anybody, but as soon as I opened the casement all was hushed, and nobody to be seen; and I have listened, and listened till I have been so timorous, that even the trembling of the leaves in the breeze has made me start. They say it often comes to warn people of their death, but I have heard it these many years, and outlived the warning.'

Original Português

«É um eco, monsieur, suponho eu. Aquela guitarra ouve-se amiúde de noite, quando tudo está quieto, mas ninguém sabe quem a toca, e às vezes é acompanhada por uma voz tão doce e tão triste, que quase se pensaria que os bosques são assombrados.» «Certamente são assombrados», disse St. Aubert com um sorriso, «mas creio que por mortais.» «Já a ouvi às vezes à meia-noite, quando não conseguia dormir», replicou La Voisin, sem parecer notar esta observação, «quase debaixo da minha janela, e nunca ouvi música semelhante. Muitas vezes me fez pensar na minha pobre mulher até chorar. Às vezes levantei-me até a janela para ver se conseguia avistar alguém, mas, assim que abria a vidraça, tudo se aquietava, e não se via ninguém; e escutava, e escutava, até ficar tão medroso que até o tremor das folhas na brisa me fazia sobressaltar. Dizem que ela vem amiúde advertir as pessoas de sua morte, mas eu a ouço há muitos anos, e sobrevivi ao aviso.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily sorriu com essa superstição boba, mas, como já estava triste, não conseguiu se livrar totalmente do medo que aquilo trazia.

Original English

Emily, though she smiled at the mention of this ridiculous superstition, could not, in the present tone of her spirits, wholly resist its contagion.

Original Português

Emily, embora sorrisse à menção desta ridícula superstição, não pôde, no presente estado do seu ânimo, resistir de todo ao seu contágio.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Bem, meu bom amigo," disse St. Aubert, "ninguém teve coragem de seguir os sons? Se tivessem seguido, talvez tivessem encontrado o músico." "Sim, senhor, seguiram um pouco pelos bosques. Mas a música continuava se afastando e soava tão distante quanto antes. No fim, as pessoas tiveram medo de que aquilo as levasse a algum perigo, então não foram mais longe. É muito raro eu ouvir esses sons tão cedo à noite. Normalmente eles vêm à meia-noite, quando aquele planeta brilhante acima da torre ali se põe atrás dos bosques à esquerda."

Original English

'Well, but, my good friend,'said St. Aubert, 'has nobody had courage to follow the sounds? If they had, they would probably have discovered who is the musician.''Yes, sir, they have followed them some way into the woods, but the music has still retreated, and seemed as distant as ever, and the people have at last been afraid of being led into harm, and would go no further. It is very seldom that I have heard these sounds so early in the evening. They usually come about midnight, when that bright planet, which is rising above the turret yonder, sets below the woods on the left.'

Original Português

«Pois bem, meu bom amigo», disse St. Aubert, «ninguém teve coragem de seguir os sons? Se tivessem, provavelmente teriam descoberto quem é o músico.» «Sim, senhor, seguiram-nos por certo trecho dentro dos bosques, mas a música sempre recuava, e parecia tão distante como sempre, e as pessoas por fim tiveram medo de serem levadas a algum mal, e não iam mais adiante. É muito raro que eu tenha ouvido estes sons tão cedo na noitinha. Costumam vir por volta da meia-noite, quando aquele planeta brilhante, que se ergue acima da torre ali adiante, se põe abaixo dos bosques à esquerda.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Que torre?" perguntou St. Aubert rapidamente. "Não vejo nenhuma."

Original English

'What turret?'asked St. Aubert with quickness, 'I see none.'

Original Português

«Que torre?», perguntou St. Aubert com vivacidade, «não vejo nenhuma.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Perdão, monsieur, mas o senhor vê sim. A lua brilha bem em cima dela. Fica lá em cima da alameda, bem longe. O castelo a que ela pertence está escondido entre as árvores."

Original English

'Your pardon, monsieur, you do see one indeed, for the moon shines full upon it; - up the avenue yonder, a long way off; the chateau it belongs to is hid among the trees.'

Original Português

«Perdão, monsieur, vedes uma sim, pois a lua brilha em cheio sobre ela; - alameda acima ali adiante, bem longe; o castelo a que pertence está escondido entre as árvores.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Sim, meu caro senhor," disse Emily, apontando, "o senhor não vê algo brilhando acima dos bosques escuros? Acho que é um templo tocado pelo luar."

Original English

'Yes, my dear sir,'said Emily, pointing, 'don't you see something glitter above the dark woods? It is a fane, I fancy, which the rays fall upon.'

Original Português

«Sim, meu querido senhor», disse Emily, apontando, «não vedes algo que reluz acima dos bosques escuros? É um pináculo, suponho, sobre o qual os raios caem.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Ah sim, entendo o que você quer dizer. E a quem pertence o castelo?"

"O Marquês de Villeroi era o dono," respondeu La Voisin com firmeza.

"Ah!" disse St. Aubert com um suspiro profundo. "Então estamos tão perto de Le-Blanc!" Ele parecia muito perturbado.

Original English

'O yes, I see what you mean; and who does the chateau belong to?'

'The Marquis de Villeroi was its owner,'replied La Voisin, emphatically.

'Ah!'said St. Aubert, with a deep sigh, 'are we then so near Le-Blanc!'He appeared much agitated.

Original Português

«Ó sim, vejo o que quereis dizer; e a quem pertence o castelo?»

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Original Português

«O marquês de Villeroi era o seu dono», respondeu La Voisin, enfaticamente.

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Original Português

«Ah!», disse St. Aubert, com um profundo suspiro, «estamos então tão perto de Le-Blanc!» Parecia muito agitado.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Costumava ser o lugar favorito do Marquês," disse La Voisin. "Mas ele passou a não gostar mais do lugar e não vem aqui há muitos anos. Soubemos recentemente que ele morreu, e que o castelo passou para outras mãos." St. Aubert estava sentado, perdido em pensamentos, mas as últimas palavras o despertaram. "Morreu!" exclamou ele. "Meu Deus! Quando ele morreu?"

Original English

'It used to be the Marquis's favourite residence,'resumed La Voisin, 'but he took a dislike to the place, and has not been there for many years. We have heard lately that he is dead, and that it is fallen into other hands.'St. Aubert, who had sat in deep musing, was roused by the last words. 'Dead!'he exclaimed, 'Good God! when did he die?'

Original Português

«Costumava ser a residência predileta do marquês», retomou La Voisin, «mas ele tomou aversão ao lugar, e não vem cá há muitos anos. Ouvimos dizer ultimamente que ele morreu, e que o castelo caiu em outras mãos.» St. Aubert, que estivera sentado em profundo cismar, foi despertado pelas últimas palavras. «Morreu!», exclamou, «Santo Deus! quando morreu ele?»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Dizem que ele morreu há cerca de cinco semanas," respondeu La Voisin. "O senhor conhecia o Marquês?"

Original English

'He is reported to have died about five weeks since,'replied La Voisin. 'Did you know the Marquis, sir?'

Original Português

«Consta que morreu há umas cinco semanas», respondeu La Voisin. «Conhecíeis o marquês, senhor?»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Isso é muito estranho!" disse St. Aubert, e não respondeu à pergunta. "Por que isso, meu caro senhor?" perguntou Emily com a voz suave, tomada por um medo curioso. Ele não respondeu, e voltou a ficar pensativo. Alguns instantes depois, quando parecia mais calmo, perguntou quem tinha recebido as propriedades. "Esqueci o título dele, monsieur," disse La Voisin, "mas meu senhor vive principalmente em Paris. Não ouvi dizer que ele pretenda vir para cá."

Original English

'This is very extraordinary!'said St. Aubert without attending to the question. 'Why is it so, my dear sir?'said Emily, in a voice of timid curiosity. He made no reply, but sunk again into a reverie; and in a few moments, when he seemed to have recovered himself, asked who had succeeded to the estates. 'I have forgot his title, monsieur,'said La Voisin; 'but my lord resides at Paris chiefly; I hear no talk of his coming hither.'

Original Português

«Isto é muito extraordinário!», disse St. Aubert sem atender à pergunta. «Por que assim, meu querido senhor?», disse Emily, numa voz de tímida curiosidade. Ele não respondeu, mas afundou-se de novo em devaneio; e, em poucos momentos, quando parecia haver-se recomposto, perguntou quem sucedera nas propriedades. «Esqueci-me do título dele, monsieur», disse La Voisin; «mas o meu senhor reside principalmente em Paris; não ouço falar de que venha para cá.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Então o castelo continua fechado?"

Original English

'The chateau is shut up then, still?'

Original Português

«O castelo está fechado, então, ainda?»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Sim, senhor, mais ou menos. A governanta idosa e o marido dela, o administrador, cuidam dele, mas normalmente vivem numa cabana perto dali."

Original English

'Why, little better, sir; the old housekeeper, and her husband the steward, have the care of it, but they live generally in a cottage hard by.'

Original Português

«Ora, pouco melhor, senhor; a velha governanta, e o seu marido, o feitor, têm-no a seu cuidado, mas geralmente vivem numa cabana ali perto.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"O castelo deve ser grande," disse Emily, "e deve ser bem solitário quando só duas pessoas moram nele."

Original English

'The chateau is spacious, I suppose,'said Emily, 'and must be desolate for the residence of only two persons.'

Original Português

«O castelo é espaçoso, suponho», disse Emily, «e deve ser desolado para a residência de apenas duas pessoas.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Solitário o bastante, mademoiselle," respondeu La Voisin. "Eu não passaria uma única noite no castelo nem por todas as terras ao redor."

Original English

'Desolate enough, mademoiselle,'replied La Voisin, 'I would not pass one night in the chateau, for the value of the whole domain.'

Original Português

«Desolado que baste, mademoiselle», respondeu La Voisin, «eu não passaria uma só noite no castelo pelo valor de todo o domínio.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"O que foi isso?" disse St. Aubert, saindo de novo de seus pensamentos. Quando o anfitrião repetiu as últimas palavras, St. Aubert soltou um gemido. Depois, como se não quisesse que percebessem, perguntou rapidamente a La Voisin há quanto tempo ele morava naquela região. "Quase desde criança, senhor," respondeu o anfitrião.

Original English

'What is that?'said St. Aubert, roused again from thoughtfulness. As his host repeated his last sentence, a groan escaped from St. Aubert, and then, as if anxious to prevent it from being noticed, he hastily asked La Voisin how long he had lived in this neighbourhood. 'Almost from my childhood, sir,'replied his host.

Original Português

«Que é isso?», disse St. Aubert, despertado de novo do seu cismar. Quando o seu anfitrião repetiu a última frase, um gemido escapou de St. Aubert, e então, como que ansioso por impedir que fosse notado, perguntou apressadamente a La Voisin há quanto tempo vivia naquela vizinhança. «Quase desde a minha infância, senhor», respondeu o seu anfitrião.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Então o senhor se lembra da falecida marquesa?" disse St. Aubert, com a voz mudada.

"Ah, monsieur, lembro sim. Muitos outros também se lembram dela."

"Sim," disse St. Aubert, "e eu sou um deles."

"Ah, senhor! Então o senhor se lembra de uma dama belíssima e muito boa. Ela merecia um destino melhor."

Original English

'You remember the late marchioness, then?'said St. Aubert in an altered voice.

'Ah, monsieur! - that I do well. There are many besides me who remember her.'

'Yes - 'said St. Aubert, 'and I am one of those.'

'Alas, sir! you remember, then, a most beautiful and excellent lady. She deserved a better fate.'

Original Português

«Lembrai-vos da falecida marquesa, então?», disse St. Aubert com voz alterada.

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Original Português

«Ah, monsieur! - isso lembro bem. Há muitos, além de mim, que se lembram dela.»

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Original Português

«Sim - », disse St. Aubert, «e eu sou um desses.»

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Original Português

«Ai, senhor! lembrais-vos, então, de uma dama belíssima e excelentíssima. Ela merecia melhor sorte.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

Lágrimas vieram aos olhos de St. Aubert. "Basta," disse ele, com a voz quase sufocada pela emoção. "Já chega, meu amigo."

Original English

Tears stood in St. Aubert's eyes; 'Enough,'said he, in a voice almost stifled by the violence of his emotions, - 'it is enough, my friend.'

Original Português

Lágrimas assomaram aos olhos de St. Aubert; «Basta», disse ele, numa voz quase sufocada pela violência das suas emoções, «basta, meu amigo.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily ficou muito surpresa com o jeito do pai, mas não fez perguntas. La Voisin começou a se desculpar, mas St. Aubert o interrompeu. "Não precisa se desculpar," disse ele. "Vamos mudar de assunto. Você estava falando sobre a música que acabamos de ouvir."

Original English

Emily, though extremely surprised by her father's manner, forbore to express her feelings by any question. La Voisin began to apologize, but St. Aubert interrupted him; 'Apology is quite unnecessary,'said he, 'let us change the topic. You was speaking of the music we just now heard.'

Original Português

Emily, embora extremamente surpresa com a maneira do pai, absteve-se de exprimir os seus sentimentos por qualquer pergunta. La Voisin começou a desculpar-se, mas St. Aubert interrompeu-o; «A desculpa é de todo desnecessária», disse ele, «mudemos de assunto. Estáveis a falar da música que há pouco ouvimos.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Estava sim, monsieur. Mas escute! Ela está voltando de novo. Escutem essa voz!" Todos ficaram em silêncio.

Original English

'I was, monsieur - but hark! - it comes again; listen to that voice!'They were all silent;

Original Português

«Estava, monsieur - mas escutai! - ela volta; ouvi aquela voz!» Ficaram todos silenciosos;

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B1 Português (simplified)

Por fim, um som suave e solene se ergueu no ar. Era como uma corrente de perfume rico. Movia-se pelo silêncio de forma tão delicada que o próprio Silêncio parecia sentir que seu lugar tinha sido tomado.

Original English

At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound Rose, like a stream of rich distilled perfumes, And stole upon the air, that even Silence Was took ere she was 'ware, and wished she might Deny her nature, and be never more Still, to be so displaced.* *Milton.

Original Português

Por fim um som de sopro suave e solene ergueu-se, como um regato de ricos perfumes destilados, e furtou-se sobre o ar, de tal modo que até o Silêncio foi apanhado antes que se apercebesse, e desejou poder negar a sua natureza, e nunca mais ficar quieto, por se ver assim despojado.* *Milton.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de alguns instantes, a voz se apagou, e o instrumento que tinham ouvido antes soou em uma harmonia baixa. St. Aubert disse que o som era mais cheio e mais bonito do que o de um violão, e ainda mais triste e suave do que o de um alaúde. Eles escutaram, mas os sons não voltaram. "Isso é estranho!" disse St. Aubert por fim. "Muito estranho!" disse Emily. "É mesmo," respondeu La Voisin. Depois ficaram em silêncio de novo.

Original English

In a few moments the voice died into air, and the instrument, which had been heard before, sounded in low symphony. St. Aubert now observed, that it produced a tone much more full and melodious than that of a guitar, and still more melancholy and soft than the lute. They continued to listen, but the sounds returned no more. 'This is strange!'said St. Aubert, at length interrupting the silence. 'Very strange!'said Emily. 'It is so,'rejoined La Voisin, and they were again silent.

Original Português

Em poucos momentos a voz esvaiu-se no ar, e o instrumento, que se ouvira antes, soou em baixa sinfonia. St. Aubert observou então que ele produzia um tom muito mais pleno e melodioso do que o de uma guitarra, e ainda mais melancólico e suave do que o do alaúde. Continuaram a escutar, mas os sons não mais tornaram. «Isto é estranho!», disse St. Aubert, por fim interrompendo o silêncio. «Muito estranho!», disse Emily. «É sim», replicou La Voisin, e ficaram de novo silenciosos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de uma longa pausa, La Voisin disse: "Faz uns dezoito anos que ouvi essa música pela primeira vez. Lembro que era uma bela noite de verão, como esta, mas mais tarde. Eu estava andando pelos bosques, sozinho. Estava muito triste porque um dos meus meninos estava doente. Eu tinha ficado cuidando dele a noite toda enquanto a mãe dormia. Saí para tomar um ar fresco. Enquanto andava, ouvi música ao longe. Pensei que fosse Claude tocando sua flauta. Mas quando cheguei a um lugar aberto e olhei para a aurora boreal, de repente ouvi uns sons desses! Não consigo descrevê-los. Era como música de anjos. Olhei para cima, quase esperando ver anjos no céu. Quando cheguei em casa, contei a todos, mas riram de mim. Disseram que devia ser pastores tocando flauta. Não consegui convencê-los do contrário. Algumas noites depois, minha esposa ouviu os mesmos sons e ficou muito surpresa. O Padre Denis a assustou dizendo que a música avisava sobre a morte do nosso filho, e que essa música costuma aparecer em casas onde alguém está morrendo."

Original English

After a long pause, 'It is now about eighteen years since I first heard that music,'said La Voisin; 'I remember it was on a fine summer's night, much like this, but later, that I was walking in the woods, and alone. I remember, too, that my spirits were very low, for one of my boys was ill, and we feared we should lose him. I had been watching at his bed-side all the evening while his mother slept; for she had sat up with him the night before. I had been watching, and went out for a little fresh air, the day had been very sultry. As I walked under the shades and mused, I heard music at a distance, and thought it was Claude playing upon his flute, as he often did of a fine evening, at the cottage door. But, when I came to a place where the trees opened, (I shall never forget it!) and stood looking up at the north-lights, which shot up the heaven to a great height, I heard all of a sudden such sounds! - they came so as I cannot describe. It was like the music of angels, and I looked up again almost expecting to see them in the sky. When I came home, I told what I had heard, but they laughed at me, and said it must be some of the shepherds playing on their pipes, and I could not persuade them to the contrary. A few nights after, however, my wife herself heard the same sounds, and was as much surprised as I was, and Father Denis frightened her sadly by saying, that it was music come to warn her of her child's death, and that music often came to houses where there was a dying person.'

Original Português

Após uma longa pausa, «Faz agora uns dezoito anos desde que ouvi pela primeira vez aquela música», disse La Voisin; «lembro-me de que foi numa bela noite de verão, muito parecida com esta, mas mais tarde, que eu caminhava pelos bosques, e sozinho. Lembro-me, também, de que o meu ânimo estava muito abatido, pois um dos meus meninos estava doente, e temíamos perdê-lo. Eu estivera a velar à sua cabeceira toda a tardinha enquanto a sua mãe dormia; pois ela passara a noite anterior a seu lado. Estivera a velar, e saí para tomar um pouco de ar fresco, o dia estivera muito abafado. Enquanto caminhava sob as sombras e cismava, ouvi música ao longe, e pensei que fosse Claude a tocar a sua flauta, como amiúde fazia numa bela noitinha, à porta da cabana. Mas, quando cheguei a um lugar onde as árvores se abriam (nunca o esquecerei!) e me detive olhando para as luzes do norte, que disparavam pelo céu a grande altura, ouvi de repente tais sons! - vieram de um modo que não sei descrever. Era como a música dos anjos, e ergui de novo o olhar, quase esperando vê-los no céu. Quando cheguei a casa, contei o que ouvira, mas riram-se de mim, e disseram que devia ser algum dos pastores tocando as suas gaitas, e não os consegui persuadir do contrário. Poucas noites depois, contudo, a minha própria mulher ouviu os mesmos sons, e ficou tão surpresa quanto eu, e o padre Denis assustou-a tristemente ao dizer que era música que vinha adverti-la da morte do filho, e que a música vinha amiúde às casas onde havia uma pessoa moribunda.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ao ouvir isso, Emily sentiu um medo supersticioso como nunca tinha sentido antes. Ela mal conseguia esconder de St. Aubert o quanto estava perturbada.

Original English

Emily, on hearing this, shrunk with a superstitious dread entirely new to her, and could scarcely conceal her agitation from St. Aubert.

Original Português

Emily, ao ouvir isto, encolheu-se com um pavor supersticioso inteiramente novo para ela, e mal pôde ocultar a sua agitação de St. Aubert.

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Mas o menino sobreviveu, monsieur, apesar do Padre Denis."

Original English

'But the boy lived, monsieur, in spite of Father Denis.'

Original Português

«Mas o menino sobreviveu, monsieur, a despeito do padre Denis.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Padre Denis!" disse St. Aubert, que tinha escutado pacientemente a história do velho. "Então estamos perto de um convento?"

Original English

'Father Denis!'said St. Aubert, who had listened to 'narrative old age'with patient attention, 'are we near a convent, then?'

Original Português

«Padre Denis!», disse St. Aubert, que escutara a «narrativa da velhice» com paciente atenção, «estamos perto de um convento, então?»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Sim, senhor. O convento de St. Clair não fica longe, na beira do mar, ali."

Original English

'Yes, sir; the convent of St. Clair stands at no great distance, on the sea shore yonder.'

Original Português

«Sim, senhor; o convento de Santa Clara fica não muito longe, ali na beira-mar.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

"Ah!" disse St. Aubert, como se tivesse se lembrado de repente de algo. "O convento de St. Clair!" Emily viu a tristeza e um pouco de medo se juntarem no rosto dele. Sua expressão ficou imóvel, e ao luar ele parecia uma daquelas estátuas de mármore sobre um túmulo, curvada em dor sem esperança sobre as cinzas dos mortos.

Original English

'Ah!'said St. Aubert, as if struck with some sudden remembrance, 'the convent of St. Clair!'Emily observed the clouds of grief, mingled with a faint expression of horror, gathering on his brow; his countenance became fixed, and, touched as it now was by the silver whiteness of the moon-light, he resembled one of those marble statues of a monument, which seem to bend, in hopeless sorrow, over the ashes of the dead, shewn

Original Português

«Ah!», disse St. Aubert, como que ferido por alguma súbita lembrança, «o convento de Santa Clara!» Emily observou as nuvens de dor, mescladas com uma leve expressão de horror, a acumularem-se-lhe na fronte; o seu semblante ficou imóvel, e, tocado como estava agora pela alva prateada do luar, ele assemelhava-se a uma daquelas estátuas de mármore de um túmulo, que parecem inclinar-se, em desesperada tristeza, sobre as cinzas dos mortos, mostradas

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B1 Português (simplified)

na luz suave que a lua fraca lança através das janelas pintadas. *The Emigrants.

Original English

by the blunted light That the dim moon through painted casements lends.* * The Emigrants.

Original Português

à luz embaçada que a pálida lua empresta por vitrais pintados.* * Os Emigrantes.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily disse: 'Mas, meu caro senhor, o senhor precisa descansar. Se nosso anfitrião permitir, eu mesma vou arrumar sua cama. Sei como o senhor gosta.' St. Aubert sorriu e disse que ela não devia se cansar. La Voisin tinha ficado pensando em sua própria história, mas agora se levantou e pediu desculpas por não ter chamado Agnes. Depois saiu apressado.

Original English

'But, my dear sir,'said Emily, anxious to dissipate his thoughts, 'you forget that repose is necessary to you. If our kind host will give me leave, I will prepare your bed, for I know how you like it to be made.'St. Aubert, recollecting himself, and smiling affectionately, desired she would not add to her fatigue by that attention; and La Voisin, whose consideration for his guest had been suspended by the interests which his own narrative had recalled, now started from his seat, and, apologizing for not having called Agnes from the green, hurried out of the room.

Original Português

«Mas, meu querido senhor», disse Emily, ansiosa por dissipar-lhe os pensamentos, «esqueceis-vos de que o repouso vos é necessário. Se o nosso amável anfitrião me der licença, prepararei o vosso leito, pois sei como gostais que ele seja feito.» St. Aubert, recobrando-se, e sorrindo afetuosamente, pediu-lhe que não acrescentasse à sua fadiga com aquela atenção; e La Voisin, cuja consideração pelo hóspede fora suspensa pelos interesses que a sua própria narrativa recordara, ergueu-se então de um salto do assento, e, desculpando-se por não haver chamado Agnes da relva, saiu apressado do aposento.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Poucos instantes depois, ele voltou com sua filha, uma jovem de rosto agradável. Emily então soube de algo que não sabia antes. Para abrir espaço para eles, parte da família de La Voisin teve que abrir mão de suas camas. Ela ficou incomodada com isso, mas Agnes mostrou, pela resposta que deu, que tinha ao menos um pouco da hospitalidade gentil e educada do pai. Ficou combinado que alguns dos filhos dela e Michael dormiriam na cabana vizinha.

Original English

In a few moments he returned with his daughter, a young woman of pleasing countenance, and Emily learned from her, what she had not before suspected, that, for their accommodation, it was necessary part of La Voisin's family should leave their beds; she lamented this circumstance, but Agnes, by her reply, fully proved that she inherited, at least, a share of her father's courteous hospitality. It was settled, that some of her children and Michael should sleep in the neighbouring cottage.

Original Português

Em poucos momentos voltou com a filha, uma jovem de agradável semblante, e Emily soube dela o que antes não suspeitara, que, para a acomodação deles, era necessário que parte da família de La Voisin deixasse os seus leitos; ela lamentou esta circunstância, mas Agnes, pela sua resposta, provou plenamente que herdara, ao menos, uma parte da cortês hospitalidade do pai. Ficou combinado que alguns dos filhos dela e Michael dormiriam na cabana vizinha.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert disse: 'Se eu me sentir melhor amanhã, quero sair cedo. Vamos descansar durante a parte mais quente do dia e viajar para casa. Não consigo aproveitar uma viagem mais longa agora, e quero chegar a La Vallee.' Emily também queria ir para casa, mas ficou triste porque o pai queria voltar tão de repente. Ela achou que ele estava mais doente do que dizia. St. Aubert foi deitar, e Emily foi para seu pequeno quarto, mas não conseguiu dormir. Ficou pensando na conversa sobre espíritos depois da morte. Temia que o pai morresse em breve. Encostou-se na janela e olhou para o céu cheio de estrelas. Pensou em Deus e no futuro. Tudo estava quieto. A dança tinha parado, e todos já estavam em casa. O ar estava parado. Ela só ouvia o sino de uma ovelha ou uma janela se fechando. Depois até esses sons pararam. Ficou na janela, tomada de emoção, até a meia-noite. O planeta que La Voisin tinha apontado desapareceu atrás das árvores. Ela se lembrou do que ele tinha dito sobre o planeta e a música misteriosa. Esperava e ao mesmo tempo temia que a música voltasse. Pensou em como o pai tinha reagido com tanta força à morte do Marquês La Villeroi e ao destino da Marquesa. Ficou muito curiosa, porque nunca o tinha ouvido mencionar o nome Villeroi antes.

Original English

'If I am better, to-morrow, my dear,'said St. Aubert when Emily returned to him, 'I mean to set out at an early hour, that we may rest, during the heat of the day, and will travel towards home. In the present state of my health and spirits I cannot look on a longer journey with pleasure, and I am also very anxious to reach La Vallee.'Emily, though she also desired to return, was grieved at her father's sudden wish to do so, which she thought indicated a greater degree of indisposition than he would acknowledge. St. Aubert now retired to rest, and Emily to her little chamber, but not to immediate repose. Her thoughts returned to the late conversation, concerning the state of departed spirits; a subject, at this time, particularly affecting to her, when she had every reason to believe that her dear father would ere long be numbered with them. She leaned pensively on the little open casement, and in deep thought fixed her eyes on the heaven, whose blue unclouded concave was studded thick with stars, the worlds, perhaps, of spirits, unsphered of mortal mould. As her eyes wandered along the boundless aether, her thoughts rose, as before, towards the sublimity of the Deity, and to the contemplation of futurity. No busy note of this world interrupted the course of her mind; the merry dance had ceased, and every cottager had retired to his home. The still air seemed scarcely to breathe upon the woods, and, now and then, the distant sound of a solitary sheep-bell, or of a closing casement, was all that broke on silence. At length, even this hint of human being was heard no more. Elevated and enwrapt, while her eyes were often wet with tears of sublime devotion and solemn awe, she continued at the casement, till the gloom of mid-night hung over the earth, and the planet, which La Voisin had pointed out, sunk below the woods. She then recollected what he had said concerning this planet, and the mysterious music; and, as she lingered at the window, half hoping and half fearing that it would return, her mind was led to the remembrance of the extreme emotion her father had shewn on mention of the Marquis La Villeroi's death, and of the fate of the Marchioness, and she felt strongly interested concerning the remote cause of this emotion. Her surprise and curiosity were indeed the greater, because she did not recollect ever to have heard him mention the name of Villeroi.

Original Português

«Se estiver melhor amanhã, minha querida», disse St. Aubert quando Emily voltou até ele, «tenciono partir a uma hora cedo, para que possamos repousar durante o calor do dia, e viajaremos em direção a casa. No presente estado da minha saúde e do meu ânimo não posso contemplar com prazer uma jornada mais longa, e estou também muito ansioso por alcançar La Vallée.» Emily, embora também desejasse regressar, entristeceu-se com o súbito desejo do pai de o fazer, o qual ela julgava indicar um grau maior de indisposição do que ele reconheceria. St. Aubert retirou-se então para descansar, e Emily para o seu pequeno quarto, mas não para repouso imediato. Os seus pensamentos voltaram à recente conversa acerca do estado dos espíritos que partiram; assunto, neste momento, particularmente comovente para ela, quando tinha toda razão para crer que o seu querido pai em breve seria contado entre eles. Debruçou-se pensativa sobre a pequena janela aberta, e, em profundo pensamento, fixou os olhos no céu, cuja abóbada azul sem nuvens estava densamente cravejada de estrelas, os mundos, talvez, de espíritos, desprendidos do molde mortal. À medida que os seus olhos vagueavam pelo éter sem limites, os seus pensamentos ergueram-se, como antes, para a sublimidade da Divindade, e para a contemplação do futuro. Nenhuma nota atarefada deste mundo interrompia o curso do seu espírito; a alegre dança cessara, e cada aldeão se recolhera ao seu lar. O ar sereno parecia mal alentar sobre os bosques, e, de quando em quando, o som distante de um solitário chocalho de ovelha, ou de uma janela que se fechava, era tudo o que rompia o silêncio. Por fim, até este indício de ser humano já não se ouviu. Exaltada e arrebatada, enquanto os seus olhos se molhavam amiúde de lágrimas de sublime devoção e solene pasmo, permaneceu à janela, até que a penumbra da meia-noite pendeu sobre a terra, e o planeta que La Voisin indicara se pôs abaixo dos bosques. Recordou então o que ele dissera acerca deste planeta, e da misteriosa música; e, enquanto se demorava à janela, entre esperar e recear que ela tornasse, o seu espírito foi conduzido à lembrança da extrema emoção que o pai mostrara à menção da morte do marquês de Villeroi, e do destino da marquesa, e sentiu-se fortemente interessada acerca da remota causa daquela emoção. A sua surpresa e curiosidade eram, na verdade, tanto maiores porque não se recordava de jamais o haver ouvido mencionar o nome de Villeroi.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Nenhuma música atravessou a noite silenciosa. Emily percebeu como estava tarde, lembrou que precisava se levantar cedo, e deixou a janela para descansar depois de um dia tão longo.

Original English

No music, however, stole on the silence of the night, and Emily, perceiving the lateness of the hour, returned to a scene of fatigue, remembered that she was to rise early in the morning, and withdrew from the window to repose.

Original Português

Nenhuma música, contudo, furtou-se ao silêncio da noite, e Emily, percebendo o adiantado da hora, voltou a uma cena de fadiga, lembrou-se de que devia erguer-se cedo pela manhã, e afastou-se da janela para repousar.

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Chapter VII

B1 Português (simplified)

Que lamentem seu destino aqueles cuja esperança permanece baixa nesta vida sombria. Mas os corações nobres podem olhar além da sepultura, podem sorrir para o destino e se perguntar por que os outros choram. A Primavera nunca vai voltar a esses lugares tristes? Será que aquela onda é o último lugar de descanso do sol? Logo o leste vai brilhar de novo com luz nova, e a Primavera logo vai dar vida outra vez, encher o bosque de som e vestir o prado de beleza! BEATTIE

Original English

Let those deplore their doom, Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn. But lofty souls can look beyond the tomb, Can smile at fate, and wonder how they mourn. Shall Spring to these sad scenes no more return? Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed? - Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, And Spring shall soon her vital influence shed, Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead! BEATTIE

Original Português

Que deplorem o seu destino aqueles cuja esperança ainda rasteja nesta sombria morada. Mas as almas nobres podem olhar além do túmulo, podem sorrir ao fado, e admirar-se de que se afligam. Não tornará a Primavera a estas tristes cenas? Será aquela onda o leito eterno do sol? - Em breve o oriente arderá com novo lustre, e a Primavera em breve verterá a sua vital influência, de novo afinará o bosque, de novo ornará o prado! BEATTIE

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily acordou cedo, como tinha pedido para ser chamada. O sono não a tinha revigorado, porque sonhos perturbadores a haviam incomodado. Mas quando abriu a janela e viu os bosques brilhando sob o sol da manhã, e respirou o ar fresco, sentiu-se mais calma. A manhã estava cheia de uma frescura luminosa que parecia a própria saúde. Ela só ouvia sons agradáveis e bonitos: o sino matinal de um convento distante, o som suave do mar, pássaros cantando, e o gado se movendo devagar entre as árvores. A cena a deixou pensativa e tranquila. Ela ficou encostada na janela, esperando St. Aubert descer para o café da manhã, e seus pensamentos formaram estes versos:

Original English

Emily, called, as she had requested, at an early hour, awoke, little refreshed by sleep, for uneasy dreams had pursued her, and marred the kindest blessing of the unhappy. But, when she opened her casement, looked out upon the woods, bright with the morning sun, and inspired the pure air, her mind was soothed. The scene was filled with that cheering freshness, which seems to breathe the very spirit of health, and she heard only sweet and PICTURESQUE sounds, if such an expression may be allowed - the matin-bell of a distant convent, the faint murmur of the sea-waves, the song of birds, and the far-off low of cattle, which she saw coming slowly on between the trunks of trees. Struck with the circumstances of imagery around her, she indulged the pensive tranquillity which they inspired; and while she leaned on her window, waiting till St. Aubert should descend to breakfast, her ideas arranged themselves in the following lines:

Original Português

Emily, chamada, como pedira, a uma hora cedo, despertou, pouco reconfortada pelo sono, pois sonhos inquietos a haviam perseguido, e estragado a mais benigna bênção dos infelizes. Mas, quando abriu a janela, olhou para os bosques, radiantes com o sol da manhã, e inspirou o ar puro, o seu espírito serenou-se. A cena achava-se repleta daquela reconfortante frescura que parece exalar o próprio espírito da saúde, e ela ouvia apenas sons doces e PITORESCOS, se tal expressão for permitida - o sino matinal de um convento distante, o débil murmúrio das ondas do mar, o canto dos pássaros, e o longínquo mugido do gado, que ela via vir lentamente por entre os troncos das árvores. Impressionada com as circunstâncias da imagística à sua volta, entregou-se à pensativa tranquilidade que elas inspiravam; e, enquanto se debruçava sobre a janela, esperando que St. Aubert descesse para o desjejum, as suas ideias ordenaram-se nos seguintes versos:

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B1 Português (simplified)

Como é bom caminhar na floresta bem cedo pela manhã, quando a primeira luz vem do leste e a paisagem desperta. As flores que choraram durante a noite agora erguem a cabeça, ainda com lágrimas, abrem as pétalas para a luz e soltam seu perfume no ar. A brisa traz o perfume e o canto dos pássaros, o zumbido das abelhas, a canção do lenhador e o som distante das vacas. O topo da montanha brilha por entre as árvores, e mais longe, o mar com navios que capturam a luz do sol. Mas a floresta, a brisa da primavera, a música e a beleza da manhã de nada servem se a saúde não deixa o coração feliz. Ó manhã! Você traz saúde, espalha seu rubor, e faz o pai viver!

Original English

How sweet to wind the forest's tangled shade, When early twilight, from the eastern bound, Dawns on the sleeping landscape in the glade, And fades as morning spreads her blush around! When ev'ry infant flower, that wept in night, Lifts its chill head soft glowing with a tear, Expands its tender blossom to the light, And gives its incense to the genial air. How fresh the breeze that wafts the rich perfume, And swells the melody of waking birds; The hum of bees, beneath the verdant gloom, And woodman's song, and low of distant herds! Then, doubtful gleams the mountain's hoary head, Seen through the parting foliage from afar; And, farther still, the ocean's misty bed, With flitting sails, that partial sun-beams share. But, vain the sylvan shade - the breath of May, The voice of music floating on the gale, And forms, that beam through morning's dewy veil, If health no longer bid the heart be gay! O balmy hour! 'tis thine her wealth to give, Here spread her blush, and bid the parent live!

Original Português

Que doce é serpentear pela sombra emaranhada da floresta, quando o crepúsculo matinal, do limite oriental, desponta sobre a paisagem adormecida na clareira, e se esvai à medida que a manhã espalha em volta o seu rubor! Quando cada flor infante, que chorara na noite, ergue a fria cabeça, mansa a luzir com uma lágrima, abre o seu tenro botão para a luz, e dá o seu incenso ao ar aprazível. Que fresca a brisa que espalha o rico perfume, e avoluma a melodia dos pássaros que despertam; o zumbido das abelhas, sob a verde penumbra, e o canto do lenhador, e o mugido de longínquos rebanhos! Então, incerto, cintila o cume grisalho da montanha, visto ao longe por entre a folhagem que se abre; e, mais além ainda, o leito enevoado do oceano, com velas fugidias, que partilham raios de sol dispersos. Mas, vã é a sombra silvestre - o hálito de maio, a voz da música a flutuar na aragem, e as formas que fulgem através do véu orvalhado da manhã, se a saúde já não manda que o coração seja alegre! Ó hora balsâmica! é tua a dádiva da sua riqueza, aqui espalha o seu rubor, e manda que o pai viva!

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily ouviu pessoas se movendo lá embaixo, na cabana. Logo ouviu Michael falando com as mulas enquanto as tirava de um pequeno galpão perto dali. Quando saiu do quarto, St. Aubert, que já estava de pé, a encontrou na porta. Ele não parecia mais descansado do que ela. Ela o guiou escada abaixo até a pequena sala onde tinham jantado na noite anterior. Ali encontraram um café da manhã arrumado e pronto, enquanto o anfitrião e a filha esperavam de pé para recebê-los naquela manhã.

Original English

Emily now heard persons moving below in the cottage, and presently the voice of Michael, who was talking to his mules, as he led them forth from a hut adjoining. As she left her room, St. Aubert, who was now risen, met her at the door, apparently as little restored by sleep as herself. She led him down stairs to the little parlour, in which they had supped on the preceding night, where they found a neat breakfast set out, while the host and his daughter waited to bid them good-morrow.

Original Português

Emily ouviu então pessoas movendo-se lá embaixo na cabana, e logo a voz de Michael, que falava com as suas mulas, ao conduzi-las para fora de uma choça contígua. Ao deixar o seu quarto, St. Aubert, que já se havia erguido, encontrou-a à porta, aparentemente tão pouco restaurado pelo sono quanto ela própria. Ela conduziu-o pelas escadas abaixo até a pequena saleta em que haviam ceado na noite anterior, onde encontraram um asseado desjejum posto, enquanto o anfitrião e a sua filha esperavam para lhes dar os bons-dias.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert disse a eles: "Eu invejo vocês por esta cabana, meus bons amigos. Ela é tão agradável, tão tranquila e tão limpa. E este ar que respiramos... se alguma coisa pudesse trazer de volta a saúde perdida, com certeza seria este ar."

Original English

'I envy you this cottage, my good friends,'said St. Aubert, as he met them, 'it is so pleasant, so quiet, and so neat; and this air, that one breathes - if any thing could restore lost health, it would surely be this air.'

Original Português

«Invejo-vos esta cabana, meus bons amigos», disse St. Aubert, ao encontrá-los, «é tão aprazível, tão quieta, e tão asseada; e este ar que se respira - se alguma coisa pudesse restaurar a saúde perdida, seria por certo este ar.»

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B1 Português (simplified)

La Voisin fez uma reverência de agradecimento e disse, educadamente, como um francês faria, que a casa deles estava honrada com a visita. St. Aubert sorriu com as palavras gentis e sentou-se para tomar café da manhã com creme, frutas, queijo fresco, manteiga e café. Emily viu que seu pai parecia muito doente, então tentou convencê-lo a esperar até a tarde antes de viajar. Mas ele estava ansioso para chegar em casa e repetiu isso várias vezes. Disse que se sentia tão bem quanto nos últimos dias e que viajaria melhor no fresco da manhã. Enquanto falava com seu anfitrião e agradecia a ele, Emily viu o rosto dele mudar. Antes que ela pudesse alcançá-lo, ele caiu para trás na cadeira. Ele logo se recuperou do desmaio repentino, mas se sentiu tão mal que soube que não poderia viajar. Depois de lutar por um curto momento, pediu ajuda para subir e deitar-se. Emily ficou apavorada de novo, como estivera na noite anterior. Mesmo mal conseguindo ficar em pé, ela tentou esconder seu medo de St. Aubert e deu-lhe o braço trêmulo para ajudá-lo até o quarto.

Original English

La Voisin bowed gratefully, and replied, with the gallantry of a Frenchman, 'Our cottage may be envied, sir, since you and Mademoiselle have honoured it with your presence.'St. Aubert gave him a friendly smile for his compliment, and sat down to a table, spread with cream, fruit, new cheese, butter, and coffee. Emily, who had observed her father with attention and thought he looked very ill, endeavoured to persuade him to defer travelling till the afternoon; but he seemed very anxious to be at home, and his anxiety he expressed repeatedly, and with an earnestness that was unusual with him. He now said, he found himself as well as he had been of late, and that he could bear travelling better in the cool hour of the morning, than at any other time. But, while he was talking with his venerable host, and thanking him for his kind attentions, Emily observed his countenance change, and, before she could reach him, he fell back in his chair. In a few moments he recovered from the sudden faintness that had come over him, but felt so ill, that he perceived himself unable to set out, and, having remained a little while, struggling against the pressure of indisposition, he begged he might be helped up stairs to bed. This request renewed all the terror which Emily had suffered on the preceding evening; but, though scarcely able to support herself, under the sudden shock it gave her, she tried to conceal her apprehensions from St. Aubert, and gave her trembling arm to assist him to the door of his chamber.

Original Português

La Voisin inclinou-se com gratidão e respondeu, com a galanteria de um francês: 'Nossa cabana bem pode ser invejada, senhor, já que o senhor e a senhorita a honraram com a sua presença.' St. Aubert deu-lhe um sorriso amistoso pelo cumprimento e sentou-se a uma mesa posta com creme, frutas, queijo fresco, manteiga e café. Emily, que observara o pai com atenção e o achara muito adoentado, esforçou-se por persuadi-lo a adiar a viagem até a tarde; mas ele parecia muito ansioso por chegar em casa, e essa ansiedade exprimiu-a repetidas vezes, e com uma veemência que não lhe era habitual. Disse então que se sentia tão bem quanto se sentira ultimamente, e que poderia suportar a viagem melhor na hora fresca da manhã do que em qualquer outra. Mas, enquanto conversava com o venerável anfitrião e lhe agradecia as amáveis atenções, Emily observou-lhe o semblante mudar e, antes que pudesse alcançá-lo, ele tombou para trás na cadeira. Em poucos instantes recuperou-se do súbito desfalecimento que o acometera, mas sentiu-se tão mal que percebeu ser incapaz de partir e, tendo permanecido algum tempo lutando contra o peso da indisposição, pediu que o ajudassem a subir as escadas até a cama. Esse pedido renovou todo o terror que Emily sofrera na noite anterior; mas, embora mal se pudesse suster sob o súbito choque que aquilo lhe causou, ela tentou ocultar de St. Aubert os seus receios e ofereceu o braço trêmulo para auxiliá-lo até a porta do quarto.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando ele voltou para a cama, pediu para ver Emily, que estava chorando em seu próprio quarto. Assim que ela entrou, ele mandou todos os outros saírem. Quando ficaram sozinhos, ele estendeu a mão e olhou para ela com tanto amor e tristeza que ela desabou e chorou muito. St. Aubert parecia reunir forças, mas ainda não conseguia falar. Ele apenas apertou a mão dela e lutou contra as próprias lágrimas. Por fim, encontrou sua voz. 'Minha querida filha,' disse ele, tentando sorrir apesar da dor, 'minha querida Emily!' Ele parou de novo. Depois olhou para o céu, como se estivesse rezando, e disse, com mais firmeza, com o amor de um pai e a calma séria de um santo, que tinha uma triste verdade para contar, mas não podia escondê-la. Disse que não faltava muito para que tivessem que se separar, e que deviam falar sobre isso para que seus pensamentos e orações pudessem prepará-los. Sua voz tremia. Emily, ainda chorando, segurou a mão dele contra o peito e só conseguiu baixar a cabeça.

Original English

When he was once more in bed, he desired that Emily, who was then weeping in her own room, might be called; and, as she came, he waved his hand for every other person to quit the apartment. When they were alone, he held out his hand to her, and fixed his eyes upon her countenance, with an expression so full of tenderness and grief, that all her fortitude forsook her, and she burst into an agony of tears. St. Aubert seemed struggling to acquire firmness, but was still unable to speak; he could only press her hand, and check the tears that stood trembling in his eyes. At length he commanded his voice, 'My dear child,'said he, trying to smile through his anguish, 'my dear Emily!' - and paused again. He raised his eyes to heaven, as if in prayer, and then, in a firmer tone, and with a look, in which the tenderness of the father was dignified by the pious solemnity of the saint, he said, 'My dear child, I would soften the painful truth I have to tell you, but I find myself quite unequal to the art. Alas! I would, at this moment, conceal it from you, but that it would be most cruel to deceive you. It cannot be long before we must part; let us talk of it, that our thoughts and our prayers may prepare us to bear it.'His voice faltered, while Emily, still weeping, pressed his hand close to her heart, which swelled with a convulsive sigh, but she could not look up.

Original Português

Quando ele estava de novo no leito, desejou que se chamasse Emily, que então chorava no próprio quarto; e, ao vê-la chegar, fez um gesto com a mão para que todas as demais pessoas deixassem o aposento. Quando ficaram a sós, ele estendeu-lhe a mão e fixou os olhos no rosto dela, com uma expressão tão cheia de ternura e de dor, que toda a fortaleza a abandonou, e ela irrompeu numa agonia de lágrimas. St. Aubert parecia esforçar-se por adquirir firmeza, mas ainda não conseguia falar; podia apenas apertar-lhe a mão e conter as lágrimas que lhe tremiam nos olhos. Por fim dominou a voz: 'Minha querida filha', disse ele, tentando sorrir por entre a angústia, 'minha querida Emily!' - e calou-se outra vez. Ergueu os olhos ao céu, como em prece, e então, num tom mais firme e com um olhar em que a ternura do pai era dignificada pela piedosa solenidade do santo, disse: 'Minha querida filha, eu abrandaria a dolorosa verdade que tenho de te dizer, mas vejo-me de todo incapaz dessa arte. Ai! neste momento eu a ocultaria de ti, não fosse crueldade das maiores enganar-te. Não pode faltar muito para que nos separemos; falemos disso, para que os nossos pensamentos e as nossas orações nos preparem a suportá-lo.' A voz vacilou-lhe, enquanto Emily, ainda a chorar, apertava-lhe a mão contra o coração, que se inchava num suspiro convulsivo, mas ela não conseguia erguer os olhos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Não deixe que eu desperdice estes momentos,' disse St. Aubert, recompondo-se. 'Tenho muito a dizer. Preciso te contar algo muito sério, e também preciso que me faça uma promessa solene. Depois disso, vou me sentir mais calmo. Você viu como estou ansioso para chegar em casa, mas não sabe todos os meus motivos. Escute-me. Mas antes de eu dizer mais, faça-me essa promessa, uma promessa ao seu pai moribundo!' Ele foi interrompido. Emily ouviu suas últimas palavras e entendeu, pela primeira vez, que ele estava em perigo imediato. Ela levantou a cabeça, parou de chorar e olhou para ele com uma dor insuportável. Então foi tomada por uma leve convulsão e caiu sem sentidos na cadeira. Os gritos de St. Aubert trouxeram La Voisin e sua filha para o quarto, e eles fizeram tudo o que podiam para reanimá-la, mas por muito tempo nada funcionou. Quando ela se recuperou, St. Aubert estava tão enfraquecido pelo que tinha visto que não conseguiu falar por vários minutos. Um licor tônico dado por Emily ajudou a reanimá-lo. Depois, sozinho com ela de novo, ele tentou acalmá-la e consolá-la. Ela se jogou nos braços dele e chorou em seu pescoço. Sua dor a impedia de ouvir o que ele dizia, então ele parou de tentar consolá-la e chorou em silêncio com ela. Por fim, lembrando-se de seu dever, ela tentou poupá-lo de mais sofrimento. Saiu dos braços dele, secou as lágrimas e disse algumas palavras para confortá-lo. St. Aubert respondeu que deviam confiar humildemente em Deus, que sempre os havia protegido e confortado. Disse que Deus não os abandonaria agora, e que sentia esse conforto no coração. Contou a ela que, mesmo se deixasse este mundo, ainda estaria na presença de Deus. Pediu que ela não chorasse mais. Disse que a morte não era estranha, porque todas as pessoas nascem para morrer, e que não era terrível para quem confia em um Deus todo-poderoso. Se tivesse vivido, logo enfrentaria a velhice, a fraqueza, a perda e a tristeza, e mesmo assim a morte chegaria depois. Ela deveria antes se alegrar por ele não sofrer isso, e por poder morrer com a mente clara, fortalecido pela fé e pela resignação. Ele parou, cansado de falar. Emily tentou de novo parecer calma e respondeu de um jeito que esperava que o confortasse.

Original English

'Let me not waste these moments,'said St. Aubert, recovering himself, 'I have much to say. There is a circumstance of solemn consequence, which I have to mention, and a solemn promise to obtain from you; when this is done I shall be easier. You have observed, my dear, how anxious I am to reach home, but know not all my reasons for this. Listen to what I am going to say. - Yet stay - before I say more give me this promise, a promise made to your dying father!' - St. Aubert was interrupted; Emily, struck by his last words, as if for the first time, with a conviction of his immediate danger, raised her head; her tears stopped, and, gazing at him for a moment with an expression of unutterable anguish, a slight convulsion seized her, and she sunk senseless in her chair. St. Aubert's cries brought La Voisin and his daughter to the room, and they administered every means in their power to restore her, but, for a considerable time, without effect. When she recovered, St. Aubert was so exhausted by the scene he had witnessed, that it was many minutes before he had strength to speak; he was, however, somewhat revived by a cordial, which Emily gave him; and, being again alone with her, he exerted himself to tranquilize her spirits, and to offer her all the comfort of which her situation admitted. She threw herself into his arms, wept on his neck, and grief made her so insensible to all he said, that he ceased to offer the alleviations, which he himself could not, at this moment, feel, and mingled his silent tears with hers. Recalled, at length, to a sense of duty, she tried to spare her father from a farther view of her suffering; and, quitting his embrace, dried her tears, and said something, which she meant for consolation. 'My dear Emily,'replied St. Aubert, 'my dear child, we must look up with humble confidence to that Being, who has protected and comforted us in every danger, and in every affliction we have known; to whose eye every moment of our lives has been exposed; he will not, he does not, forsake us now; I feel his consolations in my heart. I shall leave you, my child, still in his care; and, though I depart from this world, I shall be still in his presence. Nay, weep not again, my Emily. In death there is nothing new, or surprising, since we all know, that we are born to die; and nothing terrible to those, who can confide in an all-powerful God. Had my life been spared now, after a very few years, in the course of nature, I must have resigned it; old age, with all its train of infirmity, its privations and its sorrows, would have been mine; and then, at last, death would have come, and called forth the tears you now shed. Rather, my child, rejoice, that I am saved from such suffering, and that I am permitted to die with a mind unimpaired, and sensible of the comforts of faith and resignation.'St. Aubert paused, fatigued with speaking. Emily again endeavoured to assume an air of composure; and, in replying to what he had said, tried to sooth him with a belief, that he had not spoken in vain.

Original Português

'Não me deixes desperdiçar estes momentos', disse St. Aubert, recobrando-se, 'tenho muito a dizer. Há uma circunstância de solene importância que devo mencionar, e uma solene promessa que devo obter de ti; quando isso estiver feito, ficarei mais aliviado. Observaste, minha querida, quão ansioso estou por chegar em casa, mas não conheces todas as minhas razões para isso. Ouve o que vou dizer. - Mas espera - antes que eu diga mais, faz-me esta promessa, uma promessa feita a teu pai moribundo!' - St. Aubert foi interrompido; Emily, atingida por suas últimas palavras, como se pela primeira vez se convencesse do perigo imediato dele, ergueu a cabeça; as lágrimas estancaram e, fitando-o por um momento com uma expressão de indizível angústia, uma leve convulsão a acometeu, e ela caiu sem sentidos na cadeira. Os gritos de St. Aubert trouxeram La Voisin e sua filha ao quarto, e eles empregaram todos os meios ao seu alcance para reanimá-la, mas, por um tempo considerável, sem efeito. Quando ela se recuperou, St. Aubert estava tão exausto pela cena que presenciara, que se passaram muitos minutos antes que tivesse forças para falar; foi, contudo, um tanto revigorado por um cordial que Emily lhe deu; e, estando de novo a sós com ela, esforçou-se por tranquilizar-lhe o ânimo e por oferecer-lhe todo o conforto que a sua situação admitia. Ela atirou-se-lhe nos braços, chorou-lhe no pescoço, e a dor tornou-a tão insensível a tudo o que ele dizia, que ele deixou de oferecer os alívios que ele próprio, naquele momento, não conseguia sentir, e misturou as suas lágrimas silenciosas às dela. Chamada, enfim, ao senso do dever, ela tentou poupar o pai de uma visão mais prolongada do seu sofrimento; e, deixando o abraço dele, enxugou as lágrimas e disse algo que pretendia ser um consolo. 'Minha querida Emily', respondeu St. Aubert, 'minha querida filha, devemos erguer o olhar com humilde confiança para aquele Ser que nos protegeu e nos confortou em todo perigo e em toda aflição que conhecemos; a cujos olhos cada momento das nossas vidas esteve exposto; ele não nos abandonará, ele não nos abandona agora; sinto os seus consolos no coração. Deixar-te-ei, minha filha, ainda sob os seus cuidados; e, embora eu parta deste mundo, permanecerei na sua presença. Ora, não chores de novo, minha Emily. Na morte não há nada de novo, ou de surpreendente, pois todos sabemos que nascemos para morrer; e nada de terrível para aqueles que podem confiar num Deus todo-poderoso. Fosse minha vida poupada agora, ao cabo de pouquíssimos anos, no curso da natureza, eu teria de resigná-la; a velhice, com todo o seu cortejo de enfermidades, as suas privações e as suas dores, seria minha; e então, por fim, a morte viria, e provocaria as lágrimas que agora derramas. Antes, minha filha, rejubila-te por eu ser poupado de tal sofrimento, e por me ser permitido morrer com a mente incólume, e sensível aos confortos da fé e da resignação.' St. Aubert calou-se, fatigado de falar. Emily de novo procurou assumir um ar de compostura; e, ao responder ao que ele dissera, tentou consolá-lo com a crença de que ele não falara em vão.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de descansar um pouco, ele continuou a conversa. 'Deixe-me voltar,' disse ele, 'a um assunto que é muito querido ao meu coração. Eu disse que preciso de uma promessa solene sua. Deixe-me tê-la agora, antes de explicar o assunto principal a que ela se refere. Há outras coisas que você não precisa saber, porque sua paz depende disso. Prometa-me, então, que fará exatamente o que eu pedir.'

Original English

When he had reposed a while, he resumed the conversation. 'Let me return,'said he, 'to a subject, which is very near my heart. I said I had a solemn promise to receive from you; let me receive it now, before I explain the chief circumstance which it concerns; there are others, of which your peace requires that you should rest in ignorance. Promise, then, that you will perform exactly what I shall enjoin.'

Original Português

Depois de repousar um pouco, ele retomou a conversa. 'Deixa-me voltar', disse, 'a um assunto que me é muito caro ao coração. Disse que tinha uma solene promessa a receber de ti; deixa-me recebê-la agora, antes que eu explique a principal circunstância a que ela diz respeito; há outras, das quais a tua paz exige que permaneças na ignorância. Promete, então, que cumprirás exatamente o que eu te ordenar.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily ficou comovida com a maneira séria como ele falava. Secou as lágrimas, que tinham começado a cair de novo, e olhou para St. Aubert com profundo sentimento. Então prometeu fazer o que ele pedisse. Fez o juramento com medo, embora não soubesse por que se sentia assim.

Original English

Emily, awed by the earnest solemnity of his manner, dried her tears, that had begun again to flow, in spite of her efforts to suppress them; and, looking eloquently at St. Aubert, bound herself to do whatever he should require by a vow, at which she shuddered, yet knew not why.

Original Português

Emily, sobrecogida pela grave solenidade da atitude dele, enxugou as lágrimas, que de novo tinham começado a correr, a despeito de seus esforços por contê-las; e, olhando eloquentemente para St. Aubert, comprometeu-se a fazer tudo o que ele exigisse por meio de um voto, ante o qual estremeceu, sem saber por quê.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ele continuou: 'Eu te conheço bem demais, minha Emily, para pensar que você quebraria alguma promessa, especialmente uma feita tão solenemente. Sua promessa me traz paz, e cumpri-la é muito importante para sua felicidade. Agora escute. O closet ao lado do meu quarto em La Vallee tem uma tábua deslizante no chão. Você vai reconhecê-la por um nó especial na madeira, e pelo fato de que é a próxima tábua, com exceção de uma, ao lambril de frente para a porta. A cerca de um metro daquela ponta, mais perto da janela, você verá uma linha atravessada, como se a tábua tivesse sido unida. Para abri-la, pressione o pé sobre a linha. A ponta vai afundar, e você poderá deslizá-la facilmente sob a outra tábua. Debaixo dela, você vai encontrar um espaço oco.' St. Aubert parou para respirar, e Emily escutava com atenção completa. 'Você entendeu, minha querida?' perguntou ele. Emily mal conseguia falar, mas disse que sim.

Original English

He proceeded: 'I know you too well, my Emily, to believe, that you would break any promise, much less one thus solemnly given; your assurance gives me peace, and the observance of it is of the utmost importance to your tranquillity. Hear, then, what I am going to tell you. The closet, which adjoins my chamber at La Vallee, has a sliding board in the floor. You will know it by a remarkable knot in the wood, and by its being the next board, except one, to the wainscot, which fronts the door. At the distance of about a yard from that end, nearer the window, you will perceive a line across it, as if the plank had been joined; - the way to open it is this: - Press your foot upon the line; the end of the board will then sink, and you may slide it with ease beneath the other. Below, you will see a hollow place.'St. Aubert paused for breath, and Emily sat fixed in deep attention. 'Do you understand these directions, my dear?'said he. Emily, though scarcely able to speak, assured him that she did.

Original Português

Ele prosseguiu: 'Conheço-te bem demais, minha Emily, para crer que quebrarias qualquer promessa, muito menos uma feita tão solenemente; a tua garantia dá-me paz, e a sua observância é da máxima importância para a tua tranquilidade. Ouve, então, o que vou dizer-te. O gabinete que se junta ao meu quarto em La Vallée tem uma tábua corrediça no soalho. Reconhecê-la-ás por um nó notável na madeira, e por ser a segunda tábua, à exceção de uma, junto ao lambril que fica de frente para a porta. À distância de cerca de uma jarda daquela ponta, mais para junto da janela, perceberás uma linha atravessada, como se a prancha tivesse sido emendada; - o modo de abri-la é este: - Pressiona o pé sobre a linha; a ponta da tábua então descerá, e poderás deslizá-la com facilidade por baixo da outra. Embaixo, verás um espaço vazio.' St. Aubert calou-se para tomar fôlego, e Emily permaneceu imóvel em profunda atenção. 'Compreendes estas instruções, minha querida?', disse ele. Emily, embora mal pudesse falar, assegurou-lhe que sim.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Quando você voltar para casa, então,' acrescentou ele, com um suspiro profundo -

Original English

'When you return home, then,'he added with a deep sigh -

Original Português

'Quando voltares para casa, então', acrescentou ele com um profundo suspiro -

Back to B1    Original English

B1 Português (simplified)

Ao ouvi-lo falar em voltar para casa, ela pensou em todas as coisas tristes que viriam com isso. Desabou em um choro doloroso, e St. Aubert, que vinha tentando se manter forte, também chorou com ela. Depois de alguns instantes, ele se recompôs. 'Minha querida filha,' disse ele, 'conforte-se. Quando eu me for, você não estará sozinha. Deixo você aos cuidados mais próximos da Providência, que nunca me abandonou. Não me machuque com uma tristeza tão grande. Em vez disso, ensine-me, com seu exemplo, a suportar a minha.' Ele parou de novo, e Emily achou ainda mais difícil controlar seus sentimentos.

Original English

At the mention of her return home, all the melancholy circumstances, that must attend this return, rushed upon her fancy; she burst into convulsive grief, and St. Aubert himself, affected beyond the resistance of the fortitude which he had, at first, summoned, wept with her. After some moments, he composed himself. 'My dear child,'said he, 'be comforted. When I am gone, you will not be forsaken - I leave you only in the more immediate care of that Providence, which has never yet forsaken me. Do not afflict me with this excess of grief; rather teach me by your example to bear my own.'He stopped again, and Emily, the more she endeavoured to restrain her emotion, found it the less possible to do so.

Original Português

À menção do seu regresso a casa, todas as melancólicas circunstâncias que deviam acompanhar esse regresso precipitaram-se sobre a sua imaginação; ela irrompeu numa dor convulsiva, e o próprio St. Aubert, comovido para além da resistência da fortaleza que, a princípio, invocara, chorou com ela. Passados alguns momentos, recompôs-se. 'Minha querida filha', disse ele, 'consola-te. Quando eu me for, não ficarás abandonada - deixo-te apenas sob os cuidados mais imediatos daquela Providência que nunca ainda me abandonou. Não me aflijas com este excesso de dor; antes ensina-me com o teu exemplo a suportar a minha.' Deteve-se de novo, e Emily, quanto mais se esforçava por refrear a emoção, tanto menos o conseguia.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert, agora falando com esforço, voltou ao assunto. 'Aquele closet, minha querida, quando você voltar para casa, vá até ele. Debaixo da tábua que descrevi, você vai encontrar um pacote de papéis. Escute com atenção, porque sua promessa se aplica especialmente a isso. Você deve queimar esses papéis, e eu lhe ordeno, solenemente, que não os leia antes.'

Original English

St. Aubert, who now spoke with pain, resumed the subject. 'That closet, my dear, - when you return home, go to it; and, beneath the board I have described, you will find a packet of written papers. Attend to me now, for the promise you have given particularly relates to what I shall direct. These papers you must burn - and, solemnly I command you, WITHOUT EXAMINING THEM.'

Original Português

St. Aubert, que agora falava com dor, retomou o assunto. 'Aquele gabinete, minha querida, - quando voltares para casa, vai até ele; e, por baixo da tábua que descrevi, encontrarás um maço de papéis manuscritos. Presta-me agora atenção, pois a promessa que fizeste diz respeito particularmente ao que vou determinar. Esses papéis deverás queimá-los - e, solenemente, ordeno-te, SEM OS EXAMINAR.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily ficou tão surpresa que, por um momento, esqueceu sua dor e perguntou por que isso devia ser assim. St. Aubert disse que, se fosse certo para ele explicar, não teria pedido uma promessa tão rígida. 'Basta, meu amor, que você sinta o quanto é importante me obedecer nisso.' Depois continuou. 'Debaixo daquela tábua você também vai encontrar cerca de duzentos luíses de ouro em uma bolsa de seda. Aquele esconderijo foi feito para proteger qualquer dinheiro no castelo quando a província estava cheia de soldados que aproveitavam a confusão para virar ladrões.'

Original English

Emily's surprise, for a moment, overcame her grief, and she ventured to ask, why this must be? St. Aubert replied, that, if it had been right for him to explain his reasons, her late promise would have been unnecessarily exacted. 'It is sufficient for you, my love, to have a deep sense of the importance of observing me in this instance.'St. Aubert proceeded. 'Under that board you will also find about two hundred louis d'ors, wrapped in a silk purse; indeed, it was to secure whatever money might be in the chateau, that this secret place was contrived, at a time when the province was over-run by troops of men, who took advantage of the tumults, and became plunderers.

Original Português

A surpresa de Emily, por um momento, sobrepujou-lhe a dor, e ela ousou perguntar por que aquilo devia ser assim. St. Aubert respondeu que, se lhe fosse próprio explicar as suas razões, a promessa que ela acabara de fazer teria sido exigida desnecessariamente. 'Basta-te, meu amor, ter um profundo senso da importância de me obedeceres neste caso.' St. Aubert prosseguiu. 'Sob aquela tábua encontrarás também cerca de duzentos luíses de ouro, embrulhados numa bolsa de seda; na verdade, foi para pôr a salvo qualquer dinheiro que houvesse no castelo que este esconderijo foi engendrado, numa época em que a província era assolada por bandos de homens que se aproveitavam dos tumultos e se tornavam saqueadores.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Mas St. Aubert pediu mais uma promessa: não importava o que acontecesse no futuro, ela nunca deveria VENDER o castelo. Ele também disse que, se ela se casasse, deveria incluir no contrato de casamento que o castelo seria sempre dela. Depois explicou sua situação financeira com mais detalhes. Os duzentos luíses, junto com o dinheiro em sua bolsa, era todo o dinheiro pronto que tinha para deixar a ela. Disse que já tinha contado a ela sobre seus negócios com o Sr. Motteville em Paris. 'Minha filha,' disse ele depois de uma longa pausa, 'deixo você pobre, mas não desamparada.' Emily não conseguiu responder. Ajoelhou-se ao lado da cama dele, encostou o rosto na colcha e chorou segurando sua mão.

Original English

'But I have yet another promise to receive from you, which is - that you will never, whatever may be your future circumstances, SELL the chateau.'St. Aubert even enjoined her, whenever she might marry, to make it an article in the contract, that the chateau should always be hers. He then gave her a more minute account of his present circumstances than he had yet done, adding, 'The two hundred louis, with what money you will now find in my purse, is all the ready money I have to leave you. I have told you how I am circumstanced with M. Motteville, at Paris. Ah, my child! I leave you poor - but not destitute,'he added, after a long pause. Emily could make no reply to any thing he now said, but knelt at the bed-side, with her face upon the quilt, weeping over the hand she held there.

Original Português

'Mas tenho ainda outra promessa a receber de ti, que é - a de que nunca, quaisquer que venham a ser as tuas futuras circunstâncias, VENDERÁS o castelo.' St. Aubert chegou mesmo a recomendar-lhe que, sempre que viesse a casar, fizesse constar do contrato uma cláusula segundo a qual o castelo seria sempre dela. Deu-lhe então um relato mais minucioso das suas atuais circunstâncias do que ainda dera, acrescentando: 'Os duzentos luíses, com o dinheiro que agora encontrarás na minha bolsa, é todo o dinheiro em espécie que tenho a deixar-te. Já te disse em que termos me acho com o senhor Motteville, em Paris. Ah, minha filha! deixo-te pobre - mas não desamparada', acrescentou, após longa pausa. Emily nada podia responder ao que ele agora dizia, mas ajoelhou-se à cabeceira do leito, com o rosto sobre a colcha, chorando sobre a mão que ali segurava.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois dessa conversa, St. Aubert pareceu mais calmo. Mas estava muito cansado e logo caiu em um sono leve. Emily ficou ao lado dele, observando e chorando, até que uma batida suave na porta a acordou. Era La Voisin, que disse que um confessor do convento próximo esperava lá embaixo para ver St. Aubert. Emily não queria que seu pai fosse incomodado, então pediu que o padre não saísse da casa. Quando St. Aubert acordou, ficou confuso por um tempo e não reconheceu Emily de imediato. Depois moveu os lábios e estendeu a mão. Quando ela a segurou, afundou-se na cadeira, chocada com o olhar de morte no rosto dele. Alguns minutos depois, ele conseguiu falar de novo. Emily perguntou se ele queria ver o confessor. Ele disse que sim, e quando o santo padre entrou, ela saiu do quarto. Ficaram sozinhos juntos por mais de meia hora. Quando Emily foi chamada de volta, encontrou St. Aubert mais perturbado do que antes. Olhou para o frade com um pouco de raiva, pensando que ele tinha causado isso. Mas ele olhou para ela com bondade e tristeza, e desviou o olhar. Com voz fraca, St. Aubert pediu que ela rezasse com ele e também perguntou se La Voisin poderia se juntar a eles. O velho e sua filha entraram. Os dois choraram e se ajoelharam com Emily ao redor da cama enquanto o santo padre lia as orações dos moribundos. St. Aubert ficou quieto e parecia rezar de todo o coração. Lágrimas frequentemente vinham sob suas pálpebras fechadas, e os soluços de Emily interromperam o serviço várias vezes.

Original English

After this conversation, the mind of St. Aubert appeared to be much more at ease; but, exhausted by the effort of speaking, he sunk into a kind of doze, and Emily continued to watch and weep beside him, till a gentle tap at the chamber-door roused her. It was La Voisin, come to say, that a confessor from the neighbouring convent was below, ready to attend St. Aubert. Emily would not suffer her father to be disturbed, but desired, that the priest might not leave the cottage. When St. Aubert awoke from this doze, his senses were confused, and it was some moments before he recovered them sufficiently to know, that it was Emily who sat beside him. He then moved his lips, and stretched forth his hand to her; as she received which, she sunk back in her chair, overcome by the impression of death on his countenance. In a few minutes he recovered his voice, and Emily then asked, if he wished to see the confessor; he replied, that he did; and, when the holy father appeared, she withdrew. They remained alone together above half an hour; when Emily was called in, she found St. Aubert more agitated than when she had left him, and she gazed, with a slight degree of resentment, at the friar, as the cause of this; who, however, looked mildly and mournfully at her, and turned away. St. Aubert, in a tremulous voice, said, he wished her to join in prayer with him, and asked if La Voisin would do so too. The old man and his daughter came; they both wept, and knelt with Emily round the bed, while the holy father read in a solemn voice the service for the dying. St. Aubert lay with a serene countenance, and seemed to join fervently in the devotion, while tears often stole from beneath his closed eyelids, and Emily's sobs more than once interrupted the service.

Original Português

Depois dessa conversa, o espírito de St. Aubert pareceu ficar muito mais sossegado; mas, exausto pelo esforço de falar, mergulhou numa espécie de sonolência, e Emily continuou a velar e a chorar a seu lado, até que uma leve batida à porta do quarto a despertou. Era La Voisin, que vinha dizer que um confessor do convento vizinho estava embaixo, pronto para atender St. Aubert. Emily não permitiria que o pai fosse perturbado, mas pediu que o padre não deixasse a cabana. Quando St. Aubert despertou dessa sonolência, os seus sentidos estavam confusos, e passaram-se alguns momentos antes que os recobrasse o suficiente para saber que era Emily quem se sentava a seu lado. Moveu então os lábios e estendeu-lhe a mão; ao recebê-la, ela recaiu na cadeira, vencida pela impressão da morte no semblante dele. Em poucos minutos ele recobrou a voz, e Emily então perguntou se ele desejava ver o confessor; ele respondeu que sim; e, quando o santo padre apareceu, ela retirou-se. Ficaram a sós juntos por mais de meia hora; quando Emily foi chamada, encontrou St. Aubert mais agitado do que quando o deixara, e ela olhou, com um leve grau de ressentimento, para o frade, como causa daquilo; este, contudo, olhou-a com brandura e tristeza, e desviou o rosto. St. Aubert, com voz trêmula, disse que desejava que ela se unisse a ele em oração, e perguntou se La Voisin também o faria. O velho e a filha vieram; ambos choraram e ajoelharam-se com Emily em torno do leito, enquanto o santo padre lia em voz solene o ofício dos moribundos. St. Aubert jazia com o semblante sereno e parecia unir-se fervorosamente à devoção, enquanto lágrimas muitas vezes escapavam por baixo das pálpebras cerradas, e os soluços de Emily mais de uma vez interromperam o ofício.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando o serviço terminou e a extrema-unção foi dada, o frade saiu. St. Aubert então chamou La Voisin para mais perto. Deu-lhe a mão e ficou em silêncio por um momento. Por fim disse, com a voz trêmula, que a amizade deles tinha sido curta, mas suficiente para que La Voisin mostrasse muita bondade com ele. Confiava que essa bondade seria mostrada a Emily depois que ele partisse, porque ela precisaria dela. Pediu que cuidasse dela durante os poucos dias em que ela ficaria ali. Disse que nada mais precisava ser dito, porque La Voisin conhecia os sentimentos de um pai e tinha filhos próprios. Seu próprio coração seria muito duro se tivesse menos confiança nele. La Voisin prometeu, com lágrimas que mostravam que falava sério, que faria tudo o que pudesse para aliviar a dor de Emily. Se St. Aubert quisesse, iria até com ela para a Gasconha. Essa oferta agradou tanto a St. Aubert que ele mal conseguiu encontrar palavras para agradecer ou dizer que aceitava. O que aconteceu depois entre St. Aubert e Emily comoveu profundamente La Voisin, e ele saiu do quarto. Emily ficou de novo sozinha com o pai. As forças dele pareciam se esvair rapidamente, mas sua mente e sua voz ainda estavam claras. Nesses últimos momentos solenes, ele frequentemente lhe dava conselhos para sua vida futura. Talvez nunca tenha pensado com mais sabedoria nem falado com mais clareza do que naquele momento.

Original English

When it was concluded, and extreme unction had been administered, the friar withdrew. St. Aubert then made a sign for La Voisin to come nearer. He gave him his hand, and was, for a moment, silent. At length, he said, in a trembling voice, 'My good friend, our acquaintance has been short, but long enough to give you an opportunity of shewing me much kind attention. I cannot doubt, that you will extend this kindness to my daughter, when I am gone; she will have need of it. I entrust her to your care during the few days she will remain here. I need say no more - you know the feelings of a father, for you have children; mine would be, indeed, severe if I had less confidence in you.'He paused. La Voisin assured him, and his tears bore testimony to his sincerity, that he would do all he could to soften her affliction, and that, if St. Aubert wished it, he would even attend her into Gascony; an offer so pleasing to St. Aubert, that he had scarcely words to acknowledge his sense of the old man's kindness, or to tell him, that he accepted it. The scene, that followed between St. Aubert and Emily, affected La Voisin so much, that he quitted the chamber, and she was again left alone with her father, whose spirits seemed fainting fast, but neither his senses, or his voice, yet failed him; and, at intervals, he employed much of these last awful moments in advising his daughter, as to her future conduct. Perhaps, he never had thought more justly, or expressed himself more clearly, than he did now.

Original Português

Quando ele se concluiu, e depois de administrada a extrema-unção, o frade retirou-se. St. Aubert fez então um sinal para que La Voisin se aproximasse. Deu-lhe a mão e ficou, por um momento, em silêncio. Por fim, disse, com voz trêmula: 'Meu bom amigo, o nosso conhecimento foi breve, mas suficientemente longo para vos dar ocasião de me mostrar muitas amáveis atenções. Não posso duvidar de que estendereis essa bondade à minha filha quando eu me for; ela precisará dela. Confio-a aos vossos cuidados durante os poucos dias em que ela aqui permanecer. Não preciso dizer mais - conheceis os sentimentos de um pai, pois tendes filhos; os meus seriam, na verdade, penosos se eu tivesse menos confiança em vós.' Deteve-se. La Voisin assegurou-lhe, e as suas lágrimas davam testemunho da sua sinceridade, que faria tudo o que pudesse para abrandar-lhe a aflição, e que, se St. Aubert o desejasse, chegaria até a acompanhá-la à Gasconha; oferta tão grata a St. Aubert, que ele mal encontrava palavras para reconhecer o quanto sentia a bondade do velho, ou para lhe dizer que a aceitava. A cena que se seguiu entre St. Aubert e Emily comoveu tanto La Voisin, que ele deixou o quarto, e ela ficou de novo a sós com o pai, cujo ânimo parecia esvair-se depressa, mas nem os seus sentidos nem a sua voz o abandonaram ainda; e, a intervalos, ele empregou boa parte desses últimos momentos solenes em aconselhar a filha quanto à sua conduta futura. Talvez nunca ele tivesse pensado com mais justeza, ou se exprimido com mais clareza, do que agora.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Acima de tudo, minha querida Emily,' disse ele, 'não se orgulhe de sentimentos profundos, o engano romântico dos corações bondosos. As pessoas que realmente sentem profundamente devem aprender cedo que isso pode ser perigoso. Isso as faz tirar tristeza ou alegria demais de tudo ao seu redor. Na vida, coisas dolorosas acontecem mais do que coisas agradáveis, e temo que sintamos o mal com mais força do que o bem. Assim, nos tornamos escravos de nossas emoções, a menos que aprendamos a controlá-las um pouco. Sei que você pode dizer, por ser jovem, que às vezes prefere sofrer a abrir mão de sua ideia refinada de felicidade. Mas depois de muito sofrimento e mudança, você vai querer descanso, e então verá que estava enganada. Vai entender que o sonho de felicidade é substituído pela felicidade real. A verdadeira felicidade vem da paz, não da agitação. Ela é calma e constante, e não pode existir em um coração que se emociona com cada pequeno acontecimento, assim como não pode existir em um coração que não sente nada. Você vê, então, que quero protegê-la do perigo de sentir demais, mas não estou defendendo a frieza. Na sua idade, eu teria dito que a frieza é pior do que qualquer erro de sentimento, e ainda penso assim. Chamo isso de vício porque leva a um dano real. Mas o sentimento descontrolado também pode ser chamado de vício pelo mesmo motivo. Ainda assim, a frieza é pior para todos. Eu me cansei,' disse St. Aubert fracamente, 'e cansei você também, minha Emily. Mas esse assunto é tão importante para sua paz futura que quero ser bem entendido.'

Original English

'Above all, my dear Emily,'said he, 'do not indulge in the pride of fine feeling, the romantic error of amiable minds. Those, who really possess sensibility, ought early to be taught, that it is a dangerous quality, which is continually extracting the excess of misery, or delight, from every surrounding circumstance. And, since, in our passage through this world, painful circumstances occur more frequently than pleasing ones, and since our sense of evil is, I fear, more acute than our sense of good, we become the victims of our feelings, unless we can in some degree command them. I know you will say, (for you are young, my Emily) I know you will say, that you are contented sometimes to suffer, rather than to give up your refined sense of happiness, at others; but, when your mind has been long harassed by vicissitude, you will be content to rest, and you will then recover from your delusion. You will perceive, that the phantom of happiness is exchanged for the substance; for happiness arises in a state of peace, not of tumult. It is of a temperate and uniform nature, and can no more exist in a heart, that is continually alive to minute circumstances, than in one that is dead to feeling. You see, my dear, that, though I would guard you against the dangers of sensibility, I am not an advocate for apathy. At your age I should have said THAT is a vice more hateful than all the errors of sensibility, and I say so still. I call it a VICE, because it leads to positive evil; in this, however, it does no more than an ill-governed sensibility, which, by such a rule, might also be called a vice; but the evil of the former is of more general consequence. I have exhausted myself,'said St. Aubert, feebly, 'and have wearied you, my Emily; but, on a subject so important to your future comfort, I am anxious to be perfectly understood.'

Original Português

'Acima de tudo, minha querida Emily', disse ele, 'não te entregues ao orgulho da fina sensibilidade, o romântico engano das almas amáveis. Aqueles que realmente possuem a sensibilidade deveriam ser ensinados, desde cedo, de que ela é uma qualidade perigosa, que continuamente extrai o excesso de miséria, ou de deleite, de cada circunstância que a rodeia. E, já que, na nossa passagem por este mundo, circunstâncias dolorosas ocorrem com mais frequência do que aprazíveis, e já que o nosso senso do mal é, receio, mais agudo do que o nosso senso do bem, tornamo-nos vítimas dos nossos sentimentos, a menos que possamos, em certa medida, dominá-los. Sei que dirás (pois és jovem, minha Emily) - sei que dirás que preferes por vezes sofrer a renunciar ao teu refinado senso de felicidade, noutras ocasiões; mas, quando o teu espírito tiver sido por longo tempo atormentado pela vicissitude, contentar-te-ás com o repouso, e então recobrarás da tua ilusão. Perceberás que o fantasma da felicidade se troca pela substância; pois a felicidade nasce num estado de paz, não de tumulto. É de natureza temperada e uniforme, e não pode existir num coração que está continuamente sensível às mais ínfimas circunstâncias, tão pouco quanto num que está morto para o sentimento. Vês, minha querida, que, embora eu te queira resguardar dos perigos da sensibilidade, não sou advogado da apatia. Na tua idade, eu teria dito que ESSA é um vício mais odioso do que todos os erros da sensibilidade, e continuo a dizê-lo. Chamo-lhe VÍCIO, porque conduz ao mal positivo; nisto, contudo, não faz mais do que uma sensibilidade mal governada, a qual, por tal regra, também poderia ser chamada de vício; mas o mal da primeira é de consequência mais geral. Esgotei-me', disse St. Aubert, debilmente, 'e cansei-te, minha Emily; mas, num assunto tão importante para o teu conforto futuro, estou ansioso por ser perfeitamente compreendido.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily disse a ele que seus conselhos eram preciosos para ela e que nunca os esqueceria nem deixaria de tentar segui-los. St. Aubert sorriu para ela com amor e tristeza. Disse de novo que não queria que ela ficasse sem sentimentos, se pudesse evitar. Só queria alertá-la sobre o dano causado por se emocionar com facilidade demais, e mostrar como evitar isso. 'Cuidado,' disse ele, 'com o falso orgulho que já arruinou a paz de muitas pessoas. Não se orgulhe de ser sensível. Se você ceder a essa vaidade, vai perder sua felicidade para sempre. Lembre-se sempre de que a força e a coragem valem mais do que a graça do sentimento. Mas não confunda coragem com frieza; a frieza não pode conhecer a virtude. Lembre-se também de que um único ato de bondade, uma única boa ação de verdade, vale mais do que todos os sentimentos do mundo. O sentimento é uma vergonha, não um adorno, a menos que nos leve a boas ações. O avarento que se acha digno porque tem dinheiro, e confunde o poder de fazer o bem com realmente fazê-lo, não é mais culpado do que a pessoa que tem sentimento sem virtude ativa. Você já deve ter visto pessoas que gostam tanto desse tipo de sentimento que ignoram o dever prático. Elas se afastam dos que sofrem, e porque a visão do sofrimento as machuca, não fazem nada para ajudar. Que pobre é a humanidade que se contenta em ter pena quando poderia aliviar!'

Original English

Emily assured him, that his advice was most precious to her, and that she would never forget it, or cease from endeavouring to profit by it. St. Aubert smiled affectionately and sorrowfully upon her. 'I repeat it,'said he, 'I would not teach you to become insensible, if I could; I would only warn you of the evils of susceptibility, and point out how you may avoid them. Beware, my love, I conjure you, of that self-delusion, which has been fatal to the peace of so many persons; beware of priding yourself on the gracefulness of sensibility; if you yield to this vanity, your happiness is lost for ever. Always remember how much more valuable is the strength of fortitude, than the grace of sensibility. Do not, however, confound fortitude with apathy; apathy cannot know the virtue. Remember, too, that one act of beneficence, one act of real usefulness, is worth all the abstract sentiment in the world. Sentiment is a disgrace, instead of an ornament, unless it lead us to good actions. The miser, who thinks himself respectable, merely because he possesses wealth, and thus mistakes the means of doing good, for the actual accomplishment of it, is not more blameable than the man of sentiment, without active virtue. You may have observed persons, who delight so much in this sort of sensibility to sentiment, which excludes that to the calls of any practical virtue, that they turn from the distressed, and, because their sufferings are painful to be contemplated, do not endeavour to relieve them. How despicable is that humanity, which can be contented to pity, where it might assuage!'

Original Português

Emily assegurou-lhe que o seu conselho lhe era muito precioso, e que ela jamais o esqueceria, nem cessaria de se esforçar por dele tirar proveito. St. Aubert sorriu-lhe com afeto e tristeza. 'Repito', disse ele, 'não te ensinaria a tornares-te insensível, ainda que pudesse; apenas te advertiria dos males da suscetibilidade, e te indicaria como poderás evitá-los. Guarda-te, meu amor, imploro-te, daquela ilusão de si mesmo que tem sido fatal à paz de tantas pessoas; guarda-te de te vangloriares da graciosidade da sensibilidade; se cederes a essa vaidade, a tua felicidade estará perdida para sempre. Lembra sempre quanto mais valiosa é a força da fortaleza do que a graça da sensibilidade. Não confundas, porém, a fortaleza com a apatia; a apatia não pode conhecer a virtude. Lembra, ainda, que um ato de beneficência, um ato de real utilidade, vale mais do que todo o sentimento abstrato do mundo. O sentimento é uma desgraça, em vez de um ornamento, a menos que nos conduza a boas ações. O avaro, que se julga respeitável meramente por possuir riqueza, e assim toma os meios de fazer o bem pela sua efetiva realização, não é mais censurável do que o homem de sentimento sem virtude ativa. Talvez tenhas observado pessoas que de tal modo se deleitam nessa espécie de sensibilidade ao sentimento, a qual exclui a sensibilidade aos apelos de qualquer virtude prática, que se desviam do aflito e, porque os seus sofrimentos são penosos de contemplar, não se esforçam por aliviá-los. Quão desprezível é essa humanidade que se pode contentar em ter piedade, quando poderia mitigar!'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Mais tarde, St. Aubert falou sobre Madame Cheron, sua irmã. 'Deixe-me contar algo que importa muito para o seu futuro,' disse ele. 'Como você sabe, tivemos pouco contato nos últimos anos. Mas agora ela é sua única parente mulher, então, no meu testamento, deixei você aos cuidados dela até que você atinja a maioridade. Depois disso, pedi que ela continuasse a protegê-la. Ela não é a pessoa que eu teria escolhido para minha Emily, mas eu não tinha outra opção, e acredito que, no geral, ela é uma mulher boa e gentil. Não preciso dizer que você deve tentar conquistar a simpatia dela, meu amor. Você fará isso por causa do pai que muitas vezes desejou fazer o mesmo por você.'

Original English

St. Aubert, some time after, spoke of Madame Cheron, his sister. 'Let me inform you of a circumstance, that nearly affects your welfare,'he added. 'We have, you know, had little intercourse for some years, but, as she is now your only female relation, I have thought it proper to consign you to her care, as you will see in my will, till you are of age, and to recommend you to her protection afterwards. She is not exactly the person, to whom I would have committed my Emily, but I had no alternative, and I believe her to be upon the whole - a good kind of woman. I need not recommend it to your prudence, my love, to endeavour to conciliate her kindness; you will do this for his sake, who has often wished to do so for yours.'

Original Português

St. Aubert, algum tempo depois, falou de Madame Cheron, sua irmã. 'Deixa-me informar-te de uma circunstância que de perto afeta o teu bem-estar', acrescentou. 'Há anos, como sabes, temos tido pouco convívio, mas, sendo ela agora a tua única parenta do sexo feminino, julguei próprio confiar-te aos seus cuidados, como verás no meu testamento, até que atinjas a maioridade, e recomendar-te à sua proteção depois disso. Ela não é exatamente a pessoa a quem eu teria entregue a minha Emily, mas não tinha alternativa, e creio que ela seja, no conjunto - uma boa mulher. Não preciso recomendar à tua prudência, meu amor, que te esforces por conciliar a bondade dela; fá-lo-ás pelo bem daquele que muitas vezes desejou fazê-lo pelo teu.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily prometeu que faria fielmente tudo o que ele pedisse, o melhor que pudesse. Depois chorou: 'Ai de mim! Em breve isso será tudo o que me resta fazer. Será quase meu único consolo cumprir os seus desejos.'

Original English

Emily assured him, that, whatever he requested she would religiously perform to the utmost of her ability. 'Alas!'added she, in a voice interrupted by sighs, 'that will soon be all which remains for me; it will be almost my only consolation to fulfil your wishes.'

Original Português

Emily assegurou-lhe que, fosse o que fosse que ele pedisse, ela o cumpriria religiosamente até o limite das suas forças. 'Ai!', acrescentou, com a voz entrecortada de suspiros, 'em breve será isso tudo o que me restará; será quase o meu único consolo cumprir os teus desejos.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert olhou para ela sem falar, como se quisesse dizer mais, mas suas forças falharam, e seus olhos ficaram pesados e sem brilho. Aquele olhar tocou Emily profundamente. 'Meu querido pai!' ela gritou, e depois se conteve, apertou a mão dele com mais força e escondeu o rosto no lenço. Tentou esconder as lágrimas, mas St. Aubert ouviu seus soluços trêmulos. Suas forças voltaram por um momento. 'Ó minha filha,' disse ele fracamente, 'que meu consolo seja o seu. Eu morro em paz, porque sei que vou voltar para o meu Pai, que continuará sendo o seu Pai depois que eu me for. Confie sempre nele, meu amor, e ele vai te sustentar agora, como me sustenta.'

Original English

St. Aubert looked up silently in her face, as if would have spoken, but his spirit sunk a while, and his eyes became heavy and dull. She felt that look at her heart. 'My dear father!'she exclaimed; and then, checking herself, pressed his hand closer, and hid her face with her handkerchief. Her tears were concealed, but St. Aubert heard her convulsive sobs. His spirits returned. 'O my child!'said he, faintly, 'let my consolations be yours. I die in peace; for I know, that I am about to return to the bosom of my Father, who will still be your Father, when I am gone. Always trust in him, my love, and he will support you in these moments, as he supports me.'

Original Português

St. Aubert ergueu os olhos em silêncio para o rosto dela, como se fosse falar, mas o seu ânimo abateu-se por um instante, e os seus olhos tornaram-se pesados e baços. Ela sentiu aquele olhar no coração. 'Meu querido pai!', exclamou; e então, contendo-se, apertou-lhe a mão com mais força e ocultou o rosto no lenço. As suas lágrimas estavam escondidas, mas St. Aubert ouviu-lhe os soluços convulsivos. O ânimo voltou-lhe. 'Ó minha filha!', disse ele, debilmente, 'que os meus consolos sejam os teus. Morro em paz; pois sei que estou prestes a regressar ao seio de meu Pai, que continuará a ser teu Pai quando eu me for. Confia sempre nele, meu amor, e ele te amparará nestes momentos, assim como me ampara a mim.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily só conseguia escutar e chorar. Mas sua calma, e a fé e esperança que ele demonstrava, aliviaram um pouco a dor dela. Ainda assim, sempre que olhava para o rosto magro dele e via a morte se fortalecendo ali, sempre que via seus olhos fundos ainda fixos nela e suas pálpebras pesadas se fechando, sentia uma dor no coração que não pode ser descrita. Mas uma filha tão boa quanto Emily precisava de grande autocontrole para não demonstrar isso.

Original English

Emily could only listen, and weep; but the extreme composure of his manner, and the faith and hope he expressed, somewhat soothed her anguish. Yet, whenever she looked upon his emaciated countenance, and saw the lines of death beginning to prevail over it - saw his sunk eyes, still bent on her, and their heavy lids pressing to a close, there was a pang in her heart, such as defied expression, though it required filial virtue, like hers, to forbear the attempt.

Original Português

Emily podia apenas ouvir e chorar; mas a extrema compostura das maneiras dele, e a fé e a esperança que exprimia, de algum modo lhe abrandaram a angústia. Contudo, sempre que olhava para o semblante emaciado dele, e via os traços da morte começarem a prevalecer sobre ele - via os olhos fundos, ainda voltados para ela, e as pálpebras pesadas cerrando-se - havia no seu coração uma pontada tal que desafiava toda expressão, embora fosse preciso uma virtude filial como a dela para se abster de tentá-la.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ele pediu mais uma vez sua bênção. 'Onde você está, minha querida?' disse ele, estendendo as mãos. Emily tinha virado para a janela para que ele não visse o quanto ela estava sofrendo. Agora ela entendeu que ele já não conseguia vê-la. Depois de dar a bênção a ela, e depois que esse último esforço de vida pareceu terminar, ele afundou de volta no travesseiro. Ela beijou a testa dele. O suor frio da morte já estava ali, e por um momento ela esqueceu sua coragem, e as lágrimas caíram junto. St. Aubert levantou os olhos. O sentimento de pai voltou a eles por um instante, mas logo se foi, e ele não disse mais nada.

Original English

He desired once more to bless her; 'Where are you, my dear?'said he, as he stretched forth his hands. Emily had turned to the window, that he might not perceive her anguish; she now understood, that his sight had failed him. When he had given her his blessing, and it seemed to be the last effort of expiring life, he sunk back on his pillow. She kissed his forehead; the damps of death had settled there, and, forgetting her fortitude for a moment, her tears mingled with them. St. Aubert lifted up his eyes; the spirit of a father returned to them, but it quickly vanished, and he spoke no more.

Original Português

Ele desejou abençoá-la mais uma vez; 'Onde estás, minha querida?', disse, enquanto estendia as mãos. Emily voltara-se para a janela, para que ele não lhe percebesse a angústia; ela compreendeu então que a vista dele falhara. Depois de lhe dar a bênção, e isto pareceu ser o último esforço da vida que se extinguia, ele recaiu sobre o travesseiro. Ela beijou-lhe a fronte; o suor da morte ali se assentara e, esquecendo por um momento a sua fortaleza, as suas lágrimas misturaram-se a ele. St. Aubert ergueu os olhos; o espírito de um pai voltou-lhes, mas depressa se desvaneceu, e ele não falou mais.

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B1 Português (simplified)

St. Aubert viveu até cerca das três da tarde. Foi afundando lentamente na morte e morreu sem luta nem suspiro.

Original English

St. Aubert lingered till about three o'clock in the afternoon, and, thus gradually sinking into death, he expired without a struggle, or a sigh.

Original Português

St. Aubert prolongou-se até por volta das três horas da tarde e, assim se afundando gradualmente na morte, expirou sem uma luta, ou um suspiro.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily foi tirada do quarto por La Voisin e sua filha, que tentaram consolá-la. O velho sentou-se com ela e chorou. Agnes ajudava mais de forma errada do que gentil.

Original English

Emily was led from the chamber by La Voisin and his daughter, who did what they could to comfort her. The old man sat and wept with her. Agnes was more erroneously officious.

Original Português

Emily foi conduzida para fora do quarto por La Voisin e sua filha, que fizeram o que puderam para confortá-la. O velho sentou-se e chorou com ela. Agnes foi mais equivocadamente solícita.

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Chapter VIII

B1 Português (simplified)

Sobre o homem cujo triste destino suas virtudes lamentam, formas etéreas hão de sentar-se ao entardecer e curvar suas cabeças pensativas. COLLINS

Original English

O'er him, whose doom thy virtues grieve, Aerial forms shall sit at eve, and bend the pensive head. COLLINS

Original Português

Sobre aquele cujo destino as tuas virtudes lamentam, Formas aéreas hão de pousar ao entardecer, e inclinar a fronte pensativa. COLLINS

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B1 Português (simplified)

O monge que tinha vindo antes voltou naquela noite para consolar Emily. Trouxe uma mensagem gentil da madre abadessa, convidando-a para o convento. Emily não aceitou, mas mandou uma resposta cheia de agradecimentos. O frade falou com gentileza, e sua bondade calma se parecia muito com a de St. Aubert. Suas palavras aliviaram a grande dor dela e elevaram seus pensamentos a Deus, que vê todos os lugares e todos os tempos. Ele vê este pequeno mundo como se fosse apenas a sombra de um instante. Ele vê ao mesmo tempo a alma que deixou o corpo e a alma que ainda permanece nele. 'Aos olhos de Deus,' disse Emily, 'meu querido pai ainda vive tão verdadeiramente quanto vivia ontem para mim. Só para mim ele está morto; para Deus e para si mesmo, ele ainda vive!'

Original English

The monk, who had before appeared, returned in the evening to offer consolation to Emily, and brought a kind message from the lady abbess, inviting her to the convent. Emily, though she did not accept the offer, returned an answer expressive of her gratitude. The holy conversation of the friar, whose mild benevolence of manners bore some resemblance to those of St. Aubert, soothed the violence of her grief, and lifted her heart to the Being, who, extending through all place and all eternity, looks on the events of this little world as on the shadows of a moment, and beholds equally, and in the same instant, the soul that has passed the gates of death, and that, which still lingers in the body. 'In the sight of God,'said Emily, 'my dear father now exists, as truly as he yesterday existed to me; it is to me only that he is dead; to God and to himself he yet lives!'

Original Português

O monge, que antes aparecera, voltou ao anoitecer para oferecer consolo a Emily, e trouxe uma amável mensagem da senhora abadessa, convidando-a ao convento. Emily, embora não aceitasse a oferta, retribuiu com uma resposta expressiva da sua gratidão. A santa conversa do frade, cuja branda benevolência de maneiras guardava certa semelhança com a de St. Aubert, abrandou a violência da sua dor e elevou-lhe o coração ao Ser que, estendendo-se por todo lugar e toda a eternidade, contempla os acontecimentos deste pequeno mundo como sombras de um instante, e vê igualmente, e no mesmo momento, a alma que transpôs os portais da morte e aquela que ainda se demora no corpo. 'Aos olhos de Deus', disse Emily, 'o meu querido pai agora existe tão verdadeiramente como ontem existia para mim; é só para mim que ele está morto; para Deus e para si mesmo ele ainda vive!'

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B1 Português (simplified)

O bom monge a deixou mais calma do que ela estivera desde a morte de St. Aubert. Antes de ir para sua pequena cabana passar a noite, ela teve coragem de visitar o corpo. Ficou ao lado dele em silêncio e não chorou. O rosto calmo mostrava como tinham sido os últimos momentos de vida naquele corpo agora vazio. Por um instante, ela virou o rosto com medo diante da imobilidade daquele rosto, que nunca tinha visto senão vivo. Depois olhou de novo, dividida entre a dúvida e uma surpresa terrível. Mal conseguia acreditar que aquele rosto amado já não sentia nada. Continuou olhando de forma desesperada, segurou a mão fria, falou com ele, olhou de novo, e então caiu em profunda dor. La Voisin ouviu seus soluços e entrou para levá-la dali, mas ela não escutava nada e só pediu que a deixasse sozinha.

Original English

The good monk left her more tranquil than she had been since St. Aubert died; and, before she retired to her little cabin for the night, she trusted herself so far as to visit the corpse. Silent, and without weeping, she stood by its side. The features, placid and serene, told the nature of the last sensations, that had lingered in the now deserted frame. For a moment she turned away, in horror of the stillness in which death had fixed that countenance, never till now seen otherwise than animated; then gazed on it with a mixture of doubt and awful astonishment. Her reason could scarcely overcome an involuntary and unaccountable expectation of seeing that beloved countenance still susceptible. She continued to gaze wildly; took up the cold hand; spoke; still gazed, and then burst into a transport of grief. La Voisin, hearing her sobs, came into the room to lead her away, but she heard nothing, and only begged that he would leave her.

Original Português

O bom monge deixou-a mais tranquila do que estivera desde a morte de St. Aubert; e, antes de recolher-se à sua pequena cabana para a noite, ela teve a coragem de visitar o cadáver. Silenciosa, e sem chorar, permaneceu a seu lado. As feições, plácidas e serenas, revelavam a natureza das últimas sensações que se demoraram no corpo agora desabitado. Por um momento desviou-se, horrorizada com a imobilidade em que a morte fixara aquele semblante, nunca até então visto senão animado; depois fitou-o com uma mistura de dúvida e assombro terrível. A sua razão mal podia vencer uma involuntária e inexplicável expectativa de ver aquele semblante querido ainda sensível. Continuou a fitá-lo com desvario; tomou a mão fria; falou; ainda fitou, e então irrompeu num transporte de dor. La Voisin, ouvindo-lhe os soluços, entrou no quarto para levá-la dali, mas ela não ouvia nada, e apenas suplicou que a deixasse.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Sozinha de novo, ela chorou por muito tempo. Quando o entardecer escureceu o quarto e quase escondeu o corpo de vista, ela ainda se debruçava sobre ele. Por fim suas forças acabaram, e ela ficou mais calma. La Voisin bateu de novo e pediu que ela fosse para a sala comum. Antes de sair, ela beijou os lábios de St. Aubert, como costumava fazer quando lhe desejava boa noite. Beijou-os de novo. Seu coração parecia prestes a se partir. Algumas lágrimas vieram aos seus olhos. Ela olhou para o céu, depois para St. Aubert, e saiu do quarto.

Original English

Again alone, she indulged her tears, and, when the gloom of evening obscured the chamber, and almost veiled from her eyes the object of her distress, she still hung over the body; till her spirits, at length, were exhausted, and she became tranquil. La Voisin again knocked at the door, and entreated that she would come to the common apartment. Before she went, she kissed the lips of St. Aubert, as she was wont to do when she bade him good night. Again she kissed them; her heart felt as if it would break, a few tears of agony started to her eyes, she looked up to heaven, then at St. Aubert, and left the room.

Original Português

De novo a sós, entregou-se às lágrimas e, quando a penumbra do anoitecer escureceu o quarto e quase velou aos seus olhos o objeto do seu pesar, ela ainda se debruçava sobre o corpo; até que o seu ânimo, por fim, se esgotou, e ela ficou tranquila. La Voisin bateu de novo à porta, e rogou que ela fosse ao aposento comum. Antes de ir, beijou os lábios de St. Aubert, como costumava fazer quando lhe dava boa-noite. Beijou-os de novo; o coração sentia-se como se fosse partir-se, algumas lágrimas de agonia lhe brotaram aos olhos, ela ergueu o olhar ao céu, depois para St. Aubert, e deixou o quarto.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando voltou para sua cabana solitária, seus pensamentos tristes ainda ficavam perto do pai morto. Mesmo em um meio-sono, as coisas que tinha pensado acordada continuavam a encher sua mente. Sonhou que o pai vinha em sua direção com um rosto gentil. Depois ele sorriu com tristeza e apontou para cima. Seus lábios se moveram, mas em vez de palavras ela ouviu uma música doce ao longe. Logo o rosto dele pareceu brilhar com a alegria suave de um ser superior. A música ficou mais alta, e ela acordou. A visão tinha desaparecido, mas a música ainda chegava aos seus ouvidos como sons de anjos. Ela ficou incerta, escutou, sentou-se e escutou de novo. Era música de verdade, não uma ilusão. Depois de uma harmonia solene, parou, depois começou de novo com uma doçura triste, e então se apagou em uma nota final que parecia elevar a alma que escutava até o céu. Ela se lembrou da música da noite anterior e da história estranha de La Voisin, e da conversa triste sobre espíritos que tinham partido. Agora tudo o que St. Aubert tinha dito sobre esse assunto voltava à sua mente e a dominava. Que mudança em apenas algumas horas! Ele, que antes só tinha suposto, agora sabia a verdade e ele mesmo se tornara um dos que partiram. Enquanto escutava, sentiu um frio de temor reverente, e suas lágrimas pararam. Levantou-se e foi até a janela. Lá fora estava tudo escuro, mas quando desviou o olhar dos bosques escuros no horizonte, viu à esquerda o planeta brilhante que St. Aubert tinha apontado, se pondo atrás dos bosques. Lembrou-se do que ele tinha dito sobre aquilo. A música agora vinha em intervalos, então ela abriu a janela para escutar e tentou descobrir de onde vinha. A escuridão a impedia de ver qualquer coisa no terreno verde abaixo, e os sons foram ficando cada vez mais fracos até ficarem em silêncio. Ela escutou, mas eles não voltaram. Pouco depois, viu o planeta tremer entre as folhas mais altas dos bosques, e depois afundar atrás delas. Cheia de temor triste, voltou para a cama e finalmente esqueceu sua dor por um tempo no sono.

Original English

Retired to her lonely cabin, her melancholy thoughts still hovered round the body of her deceased parent; and, when she sunk into a kind of slumber, the images of her waking mind still haunted her fancy. She thought she saw her father approaching her with a benign countenance; then, smiling mournfully and pointing upwards, his lips moved, but, instead of words, she heard sweet music borne on the distant air, and presently saw his features glow with the mild rapture of a superior being. The strain seemed to swell louder, and she awoke. The vision was gone, but music yet came to her ear in strains such as angels might breathe. She doubted, listened, raised herself in the bed, and again listened. It was music, and not an illusion of her imagination. After a solemn steady harmony, it paused; then rose again, in mournful sweetness, and then died, in a cadence, that seemed to bear away the listening soul to heaven. She instantly remembered the music of the preceding night, with the strange circumstances, related by La Voisin, and the affecting conversation it had led to, concerning the state of departed spirits. All that St. Aubert had said, on that subject, now pressed upon her heart, and overwhelmed it. What a change in a few hours! He, who then could only conjecture, was now made acquainted with truth; was himself become one of the departed! As she listened, she was chilled with superstitious awe, her tears stopped; and she rose, and went to the window. All without was obscured in shade; but Emily, turning her eyes from the massy darkness of the woods, whose waving outline appeared on the horizon, saw, on the left, that effulgent planet, which the old man had pointed out, setting over the woods. She remembered what he had said concerning it, and, the music now coming at intervals on the air, she unclosed the casement to listen to the strains, that soon gradually sunk to a greater distance, and tried to discover whence they came. The obscurity prevented her from distinguishing any object on the green platform below; and the sounds became fainter and fainter, till they softened into silence. She listened, but they returned no more. Soon after, she observed the planet trembling between the fringed tops of the woods, and, in the next moment, sink behind them. Chilled with a melancholy awe, she retired once more to her bed, and, at length, forgot for a while her sorrows in sleep.

Original Português

Recolhida à sua cabana solitária, os seus pensamentos melancólicos ainda pairavam em torno do corpo do pai falecido; e, quando mergulhou numa espécie de sono, as imagens da sua mente desperta ainda lhe assombravam a imaginação. Pareceu-lhe ver o pai aproximar-se dela com um semblante benigno; então, sorrindo tristemente e apontando para o alto, os lábios dele moveram-se, mas, em vez de palavras, ela ouviu uma doce música trazida pelo ar distante, e logo viu as feições dele resplandecerem com o brando arrebatamento de um ser superior. A melodia pareceu avolumar-se mais alto, e ela despertou. A visão desaparecera, mas a música ainda lhe chegava aos ouvidos em toadas como as que os anjos poderiam exalar. Duvidou, escutou, ergueu-se no leito e escutou de novo. Era música, e não uma ilusão da sua imaginação. Após uma harmonia solene e constante, calou-se; então ergueu-se de novo, numa doçura pesarosa, e então morreu numa cadência que parecia arrebatar ao céu a alma que a escutava. Lembrou-se de imediato da música da noite anterior, com as estranhas circunstâncias narradas por La Voisin, e a comovente conversa a que dera ensejo, acerca do estado dos espíritos dos que partiram. Tudo o que St. Aubert dissera sobre esse tema agora lhe oprimia o coração e o dominava. Que mudança em poucas horas! Ele, que então só podia conjeturar, agora fora feito conhecedor da verdade; ele próprio se tornara um dos que partiram! Enquanto escutava, foi tomada de um temor supersticioso, as suas lágrimas estancaram; e ela ergueu-se e foi até a janela. Tudo lá fora estava obscurecido pela sombra; mas Emily, desviando os olhos da densa escuridão dos bosques, cuja ondulante silhueta se recortava no horizonte, viu, à esquerda, aquele planeta fulgurante que o velho lhe apontara, pondo-se sobre os bosques. Lembrou-se do que ele dissera a seu respeito e, chegando-lhe agora a música a intervalos pelo ar, abriu a vidraça para escutar as toadas que logo gradualmente se afastaram para maior distância, e tentou descobrir de onde vinham. A obscuridade impedia-a de distinguir qualquer objeto no relvado abaixo; e os sons tornaram-se cada vez mais tênues, até se amaciarem em silêncio. Escutou, mas eles não voltaram mais. Pouco depois, observou o planeta tremular entre os cimos franjados dos bosques e, no momento seguinte, afundar-se por trás deles. Enregelada por um melancólico temor, recolheu-se mais uma vez ao leito e, por fim, esqueceu por algum tempo as suas mágoas no sono.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Na manhã seguinte, uma freira do convento a visitou com ajuda gentil e outro convite da madre abadessa. Emily não podia deixar a casa enquanto os restos mortais de seu pai ainda estivessem ali, mas concordou em visitar a abadessa à noite, mesmo que isso fosse doloroso para ela em seu estado triste.

Original English

On the following morning, she was visited by a sister of the convent, who came, with kind offices and a second invitation from the lady abbess; and Emily, though she could not forsake the cottage, while the remains of her father were in it, consented, however painful such a visit must be, in the present state of her spirits, to pay her respects to the abbess, in the evening.

Original Português

Na manhã seguinte, foi visitada por uma irmã do convento, que veio com amáveis serviços e um segundo convite da senhora abadessa; e Emily, embora não pudesse abandonar a cabana enquanto os restos mortais do pai ali estivessem, consentiu, por mais penosa que tal visita houvesse de ser, no atual estado do seu ânimo, em apresentar os seus respeitos à abadessa, ao anoitecer.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Cerca de uma hora antes do pôr do sol, La Voisin lhe mostrou o caminho pelos bosques até o convento. Ele ficava em uma pequena baía do Mediterrâneo, cercado por árvores. Se Emily estivesse menos infeliz, teria admirado a ampla vista do mar da encosta verde em frente ao prédio, e a terra rica dos dois lados com bosques e campos. Mas agora um único pensamento triste enchia sua mente, e a natureza parecia não ter cor nem forma. O sino da oração noturna tocou quando ela passou pelo antigo portão do convento, e soou para ela como um sino fúnebre por St. Aubert. Coisas pequenas podem afetar uma mente enfraquecida pela dor. Emily lutou contra uma fraqueza enjoativa, e foi levada até a abadessa, que a recebeu com ternura de mãe. Seu cuidado gentil tocou Emily de imediato, e lágrimas encheram seus olhos. Ela tentou falar, mas não conseguiu. A abadessa a levou até um assento, sentou-se ao lado dela, segurou sua mão e esperou em silêncio enquanto Emily secava as lágrimas. 'Fique calma, minha filha,' disse a abadessa suavemente. 'Não fale ainda. Sei tudo o que você diria. Seu ânimo precisa se acalmar. Vamos às orações. Você vai se juntar ao nosso serviço noturno? É reconfortante, minha filha, olhar para cima em nossa dor, para um pai que vê e tem pena de nós, e que nos corrige com misericórdia.'

Original English

About an hour before sun-set, La Voisin shewed her the way through the woods to the convent, which stood in a small bay of the Mediterranean, crowned by a woody amphitheatre; and Emily, had she been less unhappy, would have admired the extensive sea view, that appeared from the green slope, in front of the edifice, and the rich shores, hung with woods and pastures, that extended on either hand. But her thoughts were now occupied by one sad idea, and the features of nature were to her colourless and without form. The bell for vespers struck, as she passed the ancient gate of the convent, and seemed the funereal note for St. Aubert. Little incidents affect a mind, enervated by sorrow; Emily struggled against the sickening faintness, that came over her, and was led into the presence of the abbess, who received her with an air of maternal tenderness; an air of such gentle solicitude and consideration, as touched her with an instantaneous gratitude; her eyes were filled with tears, and the words she would have spoken faltered on her lips. The abbess led her to a seat, and sat down beside her, still holding her hand and regarding her in silence, as Emily dried her tears and attempted to speak. 'Be composed, my daughter,'said the abbess in a soothing voice, 'do not speak yet; I know all you would say. Your spirits must be soothed. We are going to prayers; - will you attend our evening service? It is comfortable, my child, to look up in our afflictions to a father, who sees and pities us, and who chastens in his mercy.'

Original Português

Cerca de uma hora antes do pôr do sol, La Voisin mostrou-lhe o caminho pelos bosques até o convento, que se erguia numa pequena enseada do Mediterrâneo, coroada por um arvorejado anfiteatro; e Emily, fosse ela menos infeliz, teria admirado a extensa vista do mar que se descortinava do verde declive, diante do edifício, e as ricas margens, revestidas de bosques e pastagens, que se estendiam de ambos os lados. Mas os seus pensamentos estavam agora ocupados por uma única e triste ideia, e as feições da natureza eram para ela incolores e sem forma. O sino das vésperas soou quando ela passou pelo antigo portão do convento, e pareceu a nota fúnebre por St. Aubert. Pequenos incidentes afetam um espírito enervado pela dor; Emily lutou contra o abatimento nauseante que a acometeu, e foi conduzida à presença da abadessa, que a recebeu com um ar de ternura maternal; um ar de tão suave solicitude e consideração, que a tocou com uma gratidão instantânea; os seus olhos encheram-se de lágrimas, e as palavras que teria dito faltaram-lhe nos lábios. A abadessa conduziu-a a um assento e sentou-se ao seu lado, ainda a segurar-lhe a mão e a contemplá-la em silêncio, enquanto Emily enxugava as lágrimas e tentava falar. 'Serena-te, minha filha', disse a abadessa com voz consoladora, 'não fales ainda; sei tudo o que dirias. O teu ânimo precisa de alívio. Vamos às preces; - queres assistir ao nosso ofício da noite? É reconfortante, minha filha, erguer o olhar, nas nossas aflições, para um pai que nos vê e se compadece de nós, e que castiga na sua misericórdia.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily chorou de novo, mas muitos sentimentos doces vieram com suas lágrimas. A abadessa a deixou chorar sem interrupção e a observou com um olhar de bondade que parecia um anjo da guarda. Quando Emily ficou mais calma, foi incentivada a falar livremente e explicar por que não queria deixar a casa. A abadessa nem sugeriu que ela devesse ir. Em vez disso, elogiou seu devotado dever para com o pai e esperava que ela ficasse alguns dias no convento antes de voltar para La Vallee. 'Você deve se dar um pouco de tempo para se recuperar do primeiro choque, minha filha, antes de enfrentar um segundo,' disse ela. 'Não vou esconder de você o quanto seu coração deve sofrer quando voltar ao lugar da sua antiga felicidade. Aqui você terá descanso, compreensão e a religião para ajudar a restaurar seu ânimo. Mas venha,' acrescentou, vendo os olhos de Emily se encherem de lágrimas de novo, 'vamos até a capela.'

Original English

Emily's tears flowed again, but a thousand sweet emotions mingled with them. The abbess suffered her to weep without interruption, and watched over her with a look of benignity, that might have characterized the countenance of a guardian angel. Emily, when she became tranquil, was encouraged to speak without reserve, and to mention the motive, that made her unwilling to quit the cottage, which the abbess did not oppose even by a hint; but praised the filial piety of her conduct, and added a hope, that she would pass a few days at the convent, before she returned to La Vallee. 'You must allow yourself a little time to recover from your first shock, my daughter, before you encounter a second; I will not affect to conceal from you how much I know your heart must suffer, on returning to the scene of your former happiness. Here, you will have all, that quiet and sympathy and religion can give, to restore your spirits. But come,'added she, observing the tears swell in Emily's eyes, 'we will go to the chapel.'

Original Português

As lágrimas de Emily correram de novo, mas mil doces emoções se lhes mesclaram. A abadessa deixou-a chorar sem interrupção e velou por ela com um olhar de benignidade que bem poderia caracterizar o semblante de um anjo da guarda. Emily, quando se acalmou, foi encorajada a falar sem reserva, e a mencionar o motivo que a fazia relutar em deixar a cabana, ao que a abadessa não se opôs nem sequer com uma insinuação; antes, louvou a piedade filial da sua conduta e acrescentou a esperança de que ela passasse alguns dias no convento, antes de regressar a La Vallée. 'Deves conceder-te um pouco de tempo para te recobrares do primeiro choque, minha filha, antes de enfrentares um segundo; não fingirei ocultar-te quanto sei que o teu coração há de sofrer ao regressar ao cenário da tua antiga felicidade. Aqui terás tudo o que o sossego, a compaixão e a religião podem dar, para te restaurar o ânimo. Mas vem', acrescentou, observando as lágrimas avolumarem-se nos olhos de Emily, 'iremos à capela.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily a seguiu até o salão, onde as freiras estavam reunidas. A abadessa deixou Emily aos cuidados delas e disse: 'Esta é uma filha que respeito muito; sejam irmãs para ela.'

Original English

Emily followed to the parlour, where the nuns were assembled, to whom the abbess committed her, saying, 'This is a daughter, for whom I have much esteem; be sisters to her.'

Original Português

Emily seguiu-a até o locutório, onde as freiras estavam reunidas, às quais a abadessa a confiou, dizendo: 'Esta é uma filha por quem tenho muita estima; sede irmãs para ela.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Foram em fila até a capela. A forma séria como o serviço foi conduzido elevou o espírito de Emily e lhe trouxe conforto e paz.

Original English

They passed on in a train to the chapel, where the solemn devotion, with which the service was performed, elevated her mind, and brought to it the comforts of faith and resignation.

Original Português

Seguiram em cortejo até a capela, onde a solene devoção com que o ofício foi celebrado lhe elevou o espírito e lhe trouxe os confortos da fé e da resignação.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A noite chegou antes que a abadessa deixasse Emily partir. Ela saiu do convento com o coração muito mais leve do que quando tinha entrado. La Voisin a levou de volta pelos bosques, cuja escuridão triste combinava com seu próprio estado de espírito. Emily seguiu pelo pequeno caminho selvagem em silêncio, pensativa. Então seu guia parou de repente, olhou ao redor e virou para a grama alta, dizendo que tinha pegado o caminho errado. Ele seguiu andando depressa, e Emily teve dificuldade para segui-lo pelo terreno escuro e desigual. Ele logo ficou bem à frente. Emily o chamou, mas ele parecia relutante em parar e continuou se apressando. 'Se você não tem certeza do caminho,' disse Emily, 'não deveríamos perguntar naquele castelo ali, entre as árvores?'

Original English

Twilight came on, before the abbess's kindness would suffer Emily to depart, when she left the convent, with a heart much lighter than she had entered it, and was reconducted by La Voisin through the woods, the pensive gloom of which was in unison with the temper of her mind; and she pursued the little wild path, in musing silence, till her guide suddenly stopped, looked round, and then struck out of the path into the high grass, saying he had mistaken the road. He now walked on quickly, and Emily, proceeding with difficulty over the obscured and uneven ground, was left at some distance, till her voice arrested him, who seemed unwilling to stop, and still hurried on. 'If you are in doubt about the way,'said Emily, 'had we not better enquire it at the chateau yonder, between the trees?'

Original Português

O crepúsculo caiu, antes que a bondade da abadessa consentisse que Emily partisse, quando ela deixou o convento com o coração muito mais leve do que aquele com que nele entrara, e foi reconduzida por La Voisin pelos bosques, cuja pensativa penumbra estava em harmonia com a têmpera do seu espírito; e ela seguiu a pequena e agreste vereda, num cismar silencioso, até que o seu guia de súbito parou, olhou em torno, e então saiu da vereda para a relva alta, dizendo que se enganara no caminho. Agora caminhava depressa, e Emily, avançando com dificuldade sobre o terreno obscurecido e irregular, ficou a alguma distância, até que a sua voz o deteve, ele que parecia relutante em parar, e ainda apressava o passo. 'Se estais em dúvida quanto ao caminho', disse Emily, 'não seria melhor perguntá-lo naquele castelo além, entre as árvores?'

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Não,' respondeu La Voisin. 'Não é preciso. Quando chegarmos àquele riacho, mademoiselle' - ele apontou para a luz na água além dos bosques - 'estaremos em casa logo. Não sei como cometi esse erro. Raramente venho por este caminho depois do pôr do sol.'

Original English

'No,'replied La Voisin, 'there is no occasion. When we reach that brook, ma'amselle, (you see the light upon the water there, beyond the woods) when we reach that brook, we shall be at home presently. I don't know how I happened to mistake the path; I seldom come this way after sun-set.'

Original Português

'Não', respondeu La Voisin, 'não há necessidade. Quando chegarmos àquele riacho, mademoiselle (vede a luz sobre a água ali, para lá dos bosques) - quando chegarmos àquele riacho, estaremos em casa num instante. Não sei como fui enganar-me na vereda; raramente venho por aqui depois do pôr do sol.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

'É bem solitário aqui,' disse Emily, 'mas vocês não têm bandidos por aqui.'

'Não, mademoiselle - nenhum bandido.'

Original English

'It is solitary enough,'said Emily, 'but you have no banditti here.'

'No, ma'amselle - no banditti.'

Original Português

'É bastante solitário', disse Emily, 'mas não tendes salteadores por aqui.'

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Original Português

'Não, mademoiselle - não há salteadores.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Do que você tem medo, então, meu bom amigo? Você não é supersticioso, é?' 'Não, não supersticioso; mas, para dizer a verdade, senhora, ninguém gosta de se aproximar daquele castelo depois de escurecer.' 'Quem mora lá,' perguntou Emily, 'que o faz parecer tão assustador?' 'Ora, mademoiselle, quase ninguém mora lá agora. Nosso senhor, o Marquês, dono destes belos bosques também, morreu. Ele não vinha aqui havia muitos anos, e as pessoas que cuidam do lugar moram em uma casa perto dali.' Emily então entendeu que aquele era o castelo que La Voisin já tinha apontado como pertencente ao Marquês Villeroi, e que seu pai parecera profundamente comovido quando ele foi mencionado.

Original English

'What are you afraid of then, my good friend? you are not superstitious?''No, not superstitious; but, to tell you the truth, lady, nobody likes to go near that chateau, after dusk.''By whom is it inhabited,'said Emily, 'that it is so formidable?''Why, ma'amselle, it is scarcely inhabited, for our lord the Marquis, and the lord of all these find woods, too, is dead. He had not once been in it, for these many years, and his people, who have the care of it, live in a cottage close by.'Emily now understood this to be the chateau, which La Voisin had formerly pointed out, as having belonged to the Marquis Villeroi, on the mention of which her father had appeared so much affected.

Original Português

'De que tendes medo, então, meu bom amigo? não sois supersticioso?' 'Não, não sou supersticioso; mas, para vos dizer a verdade, senhora, ninguém gosta de aproximar-se daquele castelo depois do anoitecer.' 'Por quem é habitado', disse Emily, 'para que seja tão temível?' 'Ora, mademoiselle, mal é habitado, pois o nosso senhor, o Marquês, e senhor também de todos estes belos bosques, está morto. Não estivera nele uma única vez, por todos estes muitos anos, e a sua gente, que dele cuida, vive numa cabana ali perto.' Emily compreendeu então tratar-se do castelo que La Voisin outrora lhe apontara como tendo pertencido ao Marquês de Villeroi, à menção do qual o pai parecera tão comovido.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Ah! É um lugar solitário agora,' continuou La Voisin, 'e era um lugar tão grandioso, como eu me lembro.' Emily perguntou o que tinha causado essa mudança triste, mas o velho não disse nada. Emily ficou interessada pelo medo que ele tinha demonstrado, e ainda mais pela lembrança da aflição do pai, então perguntou de novo: 'Se você não tem medo das pessoas que moram lá, meu bom amigo, e não é supersticioso, por que teme passar perto daquele castelo no escuro?'

Original English

'Ah! it is a desolate place now,'continued La Voisin, 'and such a grand, fine place, as I remember it!'Emily enquired what had occasioned this lamentable change; but the old man was silent, and Emily, whose interest was awakened by the fear he had expressed, and above all by a recollection of her father's agitation, repeated the question, and added, 'If you are neither afraid of the inhabitants, my good friend, nor are superstitious, how happens it, that you dread to pass near that chateau in the dark?'

Original Português

'Ah! é agora um lugar desolado', continuou La Voisin, 'e um lugar tão grandioso e belo como eu o recordo!' Emily perguntou o que ocasionara essa lamentável mudança; mas o velho ficou em silêncio, e Emily, cujo interesse fora despertado pelo receio que ele exprimira, e sobretudo pela lembrança da agitação do pai, repetiu a pergunta e acrescentou: 'Se não temeis nem os moradores, meu bom amigo, nem sois supersticioso, como se explica que receeis passar perto daquele castelo no escuro?'

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Talvez eu seja um pouco supersticioso, mademoiselle. E se você soubesse o que eu sei, talvez você também fosse. Coisas estranhas aconteceram ali. O senhor, seu bom pai, parecia conhecer a falecida marquesa.' 'Por favor, me conte o que aconteceu,' disse Emily, profundamente comovida.

Original English

'Perhaps, then, I am a little superstitious, ma'amselle; and, if you knew what I do, you might be so too. Strange things have happened there. Monsieur, your good father, appeared to have known the late Marchioness.''Pray inform me what did happen?'said Emily, with much emotion.

Original Português

'Talvez, então, eu seja um pouco supersticioso, mademoiselle; e, se soubésseis o que eu sei, talvez o fôsseis também. Coisas estranhas ali aconteceram. O senhor, vosso bom pai, dava mostras de ter conhecido a falecida Marquesa.' 'Peço-vos, informai-me do que aconteceu', disse Emily, com muita emoção.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Ai, mademoiselle,' respondeu La Voisin, 'não pergunte mais. Não cabe a mim revelar os segredos de família do meu senhor.' Emily ficou surpresa com suas palavras e com o jeito como ele falou, então não perguntou de novo. Em vez disso, seus pensamentos voltaram para St. Aubert. Depois se lembrou da música que tinha ouvido na noite anterior e contou a La Voisin sobre isso. 'Você não foi a única a ouvi-la, mademoiselle,' respondeu ele. 'Eu também a ouvi, mas já a ouvi tantas vezes na mesma hora que quase não me surpreendi.'

Original English

'Alas! ma'amselle,'answered La Voisin, 'enquire no further; it is not for me to lay open the domestic secrets of my lord.' - Emily, surprised by the old man's words, and his manner of delivering them, forbore to repeat her question; a nearer interest, the remembrance of St. Aubert, occupied her thoughts, and she was led to recollect the music she heard on the preceding night, which she mentioned to La Voisin. 'You was not alone, ma'amselle, in this,'he replied, 'I heard it too; but I have so often heard it, at the same hour, that I was scarcely surprised.'

Original Português

'Ai! mademoiselle', respondeu La Voisin, 'não indagueis mais; não me cabe expor os segredos domésticos do meu senhor.' - Emily, surpreendida pelas palavras do velho, e pelo modo como as proferiu, absteve-se de repetir a pergunta; um interesse mais próximo, a lembrança de St. Aubert, ocupava-lhe os pensamentos, e ela foi levada a recordar a música que ouvira na noite anterior, o que mencionou a La Voisin. 'Não fostes a única, mademoiselle, nisso', respondeu ele, 'eu também a ouvi; mas tantas vezes a ouvi, à mesma hora, que mal me surpreendi.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily disse de repente: 'Você certamente acha que essa música está ligada ao castelo, e por isso você é supersticioso.' 'Pode ser, mademoiselle,' respondeu ele, 'mas há outras coisas sobre aquele castelo de que me lembro, e infelizmente também.' Ele suspirou fundo. Emily era cuidadosa demais para insistir mais com perguntas, então não disse mais nada.

Original English

'You doubtless believe this music to have some connection with the chateau,'said Emily suddenly, 'and are, therefore, superstitious.''It may be so, ma'amselle, but there are other circumstances, belonging to that chateau, which I remember, and sadly too.'A heavy sigh followed: but Emily's delicacy restrained the curiosity these words revived, and she enquired no further.

Original Português

'Sem dúvida acreditais que essa música tenha alguma ligação com o castelo', disse Emily de súbito, 'e sois, portanto, supersticioso.' 'Pode ser, mademoiselle, mas há outras circunstâncias, relativas àquele castelo, de que me recordo, e bem tristemente também.' Seguiu-se um pesado suspiro; mas a delicadeza de Emily refreou a curiosidade que essas palavras reavivaram, e ela não indagou mais.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando ela chegou à casa, sua dor voltou com toda a força. Era como se ela só tivesse escapado dela enquanto estava longe da coisa que a causava. Foi imediatamente para o quarto onde o corpo do pai estava e se entregou a uma dor dolorosa. Por fim, La Voisin conseguiu convencê-la a sair do quarto. Ela foi para seu próprio quarto e, exausta pelo sofrimento do dia, logo caiu em um sono profundo. Quando acordou, se sentia muito melhor.

Original English

On reaching the cottage, all the violence of her grief returned; it seemed as if she had escaped its heavy pressure only while she was removed from the object of it. She passed immediately to the chamber, where the remains of her father were laid, and yielded to all the anguish of hopeless grief. La Voisin, at length, persuaded her to leave the room, and she returned to her own, where, exhausted by the sufferings of the day, she soon fell into deep sleep, and awoke considerably refreshed.

Original Português

Ao chegar à cabana, toda a violência da sua dor retornou; parecia como se ela tivesse escapado ao seu pesado jugo apenas enquanto se achava afastada do objeto que a causava. Passou imediatamente ao quarto onde os restos mortais do pai estavam depositados e entregou-se a toda a angústia de uma dor sem esperança. La Voisin, por fim, persuadiu-a a deixar o quarto, e ela regressou ao seu, onde, exausta pelos sofrimentos do dia, logo mergulhou num sono profundo, e despertou consideravelmente revigorada.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Quando chegou a hora triste de os restos mortais de St. Aubert serem levados para sempre, Emily foi sozinha até o quarto para olhar o rosto dele uma última vez. La Voisin tinha esperado lá embaixo até que o desespero dela diminuísse, mas quando a espera ficou longa demais, ele se preocupou e foi buscá-la. Bateu suavemente e não obteve resposta. Escutou, mas tudo estava quieto. Então abriu a porta e encontrou Emily desacordada no chão perto da cama, ao lado do caixão. Depois de pedir ajuda, ela foi levada para o quarto, e remédios e cuidados finalmente a trouxeram de volta.

Original English

When the dreadful hour arrived, in which the remains of St. Aubert were to be taken from her for ever, she went alone to the chamber to look upon his countenance yet once again, and La Voisin, who had waited patiently below stairs, till her despair should subside, with the respect due to grief, forbore to interrupt the indulgence of it, till surprise, at the length of her stay, and then apprehension overcame his delicacy, and he went to lead her from the chamber. Having tapped gently at the door, without receiving an answer, he listened attentively, but all was still; no sigh, no sob of anguish was heard. Yet more alarmed by this silence, he opened the door, and found Emily lying senseless across the foot of the bed, near which stood the coffin. His calls procured assistance, and she was carried to her room, where proper applications, at length, restored her.

Original Português

Quando chegou a hora terrível em que os restos mortais de St. Aubert lhe seriam tomados para sempre, ela foi sozinha ao quarto para contemplar-lhe o semblante mais uma vez, e La Voisin, que esperara pacientemente lá embaixo, até que o seu desespero abrandasse, com o respeito devido à dor, absteve-se de interromper aquela indulgência, até que a surpresa, ante a duração da sua demora, e depois a apreensão, venceram a sua delicadeza, e ele foi conduzi-la para fora do quarto. Tendo batido de leve à porta, sem receber resposta, escutou com atenção, mas tudo estava quieto; nenhum suspiro, nenhum soluço de angústia se ouvia. Ainda mais alarmado por esse silêncio, abriu a porta e encontrou Emily jazendo sem sentidos atravessada aos pés do leito, junto ao qual estava o caixão. Os seus chamados trouxeram auxílio, e ela foi levada ao seu quarto, onde os cuidados adequados, por fim, a reanimaram.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto Emily ainda estava fraca, La Voisin ordenou que o caixão fosse fechado. Também a convenceu a não voltar ao quarto. Ela sabia que estava fraca demais para isso, e também percebeu que precisava guardar suas forças para o funeral que se aproximava. St. Aubert tinha pedido para ser enterrado na igreja do convento de St. Clair, perto do antigo túmulo dos Villerois, e tinha indicado o lugar exato. A superiora permitiu, e o triste cortejo fúnebre se dirigiu para lá. Nos portões, um padre respeitado e um grupo de frades os receberam. O hino solene e o órgão comoveram todos os que os ouviram, e os passos fracos de Emily e seu rosto calmo tiraram lágrimas de muitos olhos. Ela mesma não chorou. Caminhou entre duas pessoas que a apoiavam, com um véu preto fino sobre parte do rosto. A abadessa caminhava à sua frente, e as freiras a seguiam, cantando com tristeza. Quando chegaram ao túmulo, a música parou. Emily puxou o véu completamente sobre o rosto, e seus soluços puderam ser ouvidos durante uma pausa no serviço. Controlou-se de novo até que o caixão foi baixado e ela ouviu a terra cair sobre a tampa. Então estremeceu e gritou de dor, apoiando-se na pessoa ao lado. Logo se acalmou um pouco, e quando ouviu as palavras 'Seu corpo é sepultado em paz, e sua alma retorna a Ele que a deu', sua tristeza se suavizou em lágrimas.

Original English

During her state of insensibility, La Voisin had given directions for the coffin to be closed, and he succeeded in persuading Emily to forbear revisiting the chamber. She, indeed, felt herself unequal to this, and also perceived the necessity of sparing her spirits, and recollecting fortitude sufficient to bear her through the approaching scene. St. Aubert had given a particular injunction, that his remains should be interred in the church of the convent of St. Clair, and, in mentioning the north chancel, near the ancient tomb of the Villerois, had pointed out the exact spot, where he wished to be laid. The superior had granted this place for the interment, and thither, therefore, the sad procession now moved, which was met, at the gates, by the venerable priest, followed by a train of friars. Every person, who heard the solemn chant of the anthem, and the peal of the organ, that struck up, when the body entered the church, and saw also the feeble steps, and the assumed tranquillity of Emily, gave her involuntary tears. She shed none, but walked, her face partly shaded by a thin black veil, between two persons, who supported her, preceded by the abbess, and followed by nuns, whose plaintive voices mellowed the swelling harmony of the dirge. When the procession came to the grave the music ceased. Emily drew the veil entirely over her face, and, in a momentary pause, between the anthem and the rest of the service, her sobs were distinctly audible. The holy father began the service, and Emily again commanded her feelings, till the coffin was let down, and she heard the earth rattle on its lid. Then, as she shuddered, a groan burst from her heart, and she leaned for support on the person who stood next to her. In a few moments she recovered; and, when she heard those affecting and sublime words: 'His body is buried in peace, and his soul returns to Him that gave it,'her anguish softened into tears.

Original Português

Durante o seu estado de inconsciência, La Voisin dera instruções para que o caixão fosse fechado, e conseguiu persuadir Emily a abster-se de revisitar o quarto. Ela, na verdade, sentia-se incapaz disso, e percebia também a necessidade de poupar o ânimo e de reunir fortaleza suficiente para atravessar a cena que se aproximava. St. Aubert dera uma injunção particular de que os seus restos mortais fossem sepultados na igreja do convento de St. Clair e, ao mencionar o coro do norte, junto ao antigo túmulo dos Villeroi, indicara o lugar exato onde desejava jazer. A superiora concedera esse lugar para o sepultamento, e para lá, portanto, moveu-se agora o triste cortejo, que foi recebido, aos portões, pelo venerável padre, seguido por um séquito de frades. Toda pessoa que ouvia o solene cântico do hino e o retumbar do órgão, que rompeu quando o corpo entrou na igreja, e via também os passos débeis e a assumida tranquilidade de Emily, derramava lágrimas involuntárias. Ela não derramou nenhuma, mas caminhou, o rosto em parte sombreado por um fino véu negro, entre duas pessoas que a amparavam, precedida pela abadessa e seguida pelas freiras, cujas vozes plangentes suavizavam a avolumante harmonia do treno. Quando o cortejo chegou à sepultura, a música cessou. Emily puxou o véu inteiramente sobre o rosto e, numa pausa momentânea entre o hino e o resto do ofício, os seus soluços eram distintamente audíveis. O santo padre iniciou o ofício, e Emily de novo dominou os seus sentimentos, até que o caixão foi descido, e ela ouviu a terra ressoar sobre a tampa. Então, ao estremecer, um gemido irrompeu-lhe do coração, e ela apoiou-se, buscando amparo, na pessoa que estava a seu lado. Em poucos momentos recobrou-se; e, quando ouviu aquelas comoventes e sublimes palavras: 'O seu corpo é sepultado em paz, e a sua alma regressa Àquele que a deu', a sua angústia abrandou-se em lágrimas.

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B1 Português (simplified)

A abadessa levou Emily da igreja para seu próprio quarto e lhe deu todo o conforto que a religião e a compaixão gentil podiam oferecer. Emily lutou contra sua dor, mas a abadessa a observava com cuidado e mandou preparar uma cama. Insistiu para que Emily descansasse. Também gentilmente lembrou a ela de sua promessa de ficar no convento por alguns dias. Emily não queria voltar para a casa, onde tinha sofrido tanto, e agora que nenhum dever urgente restava, sentiu o quanto estava fraca e mal, e soube que não podia viajar de imediato.

Original English

The abbess led her from the church into her own parlour, and there administered all the consolations, that religion and gentle sympathy can give. Emily struggled against the pressure of grief; but the abbess, observing her attentively, ordered a bed to be prepared, and recommended her to retire to repose. She also kindly claimed her promise to remain a few days at the convent; and Emily, who had no wish to return to the cottage, the scene of all her sufferings, had leisure, now that no immediate care pressed upon her attention, to feel the indisposition, which disabled her from immediately travelling.

Original Português

A abadessa conduziu-a da igreja até o seu próprio locutório, e ali lhe ministrou todos os consolos que a religião e a terna compaixão podem dar. Emily lutou contra o peso da dor; mas a abadessa, observando-a atentamente, mandou preparar um leito e recomendou-lhe que se recolhesse ao repouso. Reclamou também, com bondade, o cumprimento da promessa de permanecer alguns dias no convento; e Emily, que não tinha desejo algum de regressar à cabana, cenário de todos os seus sofrimentos, teve agora vagar, já que nenhum cuidado imediato lhe premia a atenção, para sentir a indisposição que a impedia de viajar de imediato.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto isso, os cuidados maternais da abadessa e a atenção gentil das freiras fizeram tudo o que era possível para acalmar Emily e ajudar sua saúde a voltar. Mas sua saúde tinha sido profundamente ferida através da mente, então ela não conseguia se recuperar rapidamente. Ficou no convento por algumas semanas com uma febre lenta. Queria ir para casa, mas não podia. Às vezes, chegava até a odiar a ideia de deixar o lugar onde os restos mortais de seu pai estavam depositados. Às vezes se consolava pensando que, se morresse ali, descansaria ao lado de St. Aubert. Escreveu para Madame Cheron e para a velha governanta para contar sobre o triste acontecimento e sua própria condição. Sua tia respondeu com palavras comuns de simpatia, mas com pouco sentimento verdadeiro. Disse que mandaria um criado para levar Emily até La Vallee, porque estava ocupada demais com convidados para fazer a longa viagem ela mesma. Emily talvez preferisse La Vallee a Tholouse, mas não pôde deixar de perceber o quanto era rude e cruel mandá-la de volta para lá sem nenhum parente para protegê-la ou confortá-la. Isso era ainda pior porque St. Aubert tinha tornado Madame Cheron a tutora de sua filha órfã.

Original English

Meanwhile, the maternal kindness of the abbess, and the gentle attentions of the nuns did all, that was possible, towards soothing her spirits and restoring her health. But the latter was too deeply wounded, through the medium of her mind, to be quickly revived. She lingered for some weeks at the convent, under the influence of a slow fever, wishing to return home, yet unable to go thither; often even reluctant to leave the spot where her father's relics were deposited, and sometimes soothing herself with the consideration, that, if she died here, her remains would repose beside those of St. Aubert. In the meanwhile, she sent letters to Madame Cheron and to the old housekeeper, informing them of the sad event, that had taken place, and of her own situation. From her aunt she received an answer, abounding more in common-place condolement, than in traits of real sorrow, which assured her, that a servant should be sent to conduct her to La Vallee, for that her own time was so much occupied by company, that she had no leisure to undertake so long a journey. However Emily might prefer La Vallee to Tholouse, she could not be insensible to the indecorous and unkind conduct of her aunt, in suffering her to return thither, where she had no longer a relation to console and protect her; a conduct, which was the more culpable, since St. Aubert had appointed Madame Cheron the guardian of his orphan daughter.

Original Português

Entretanto, a bondade maternal da abadessa e as ternas atenções das freiras fizeram tudo o que era possível para lhe abrandar o ânimo e lhe restaurar a saúde. Mas esta última fora ferida fundo demais, por intermédio do espírito, para ser depressa reavivada. Ela demorou-se algumas semanas no convento, sob a influência de uma febre lenta, desejando regressar a casa, e contudo incapaz de para lá ir; muitas vezes até relutante em deixar o lugar onde as relíquias do pai estavam depositadas, e por vezes consolando-se com a consideração de que, se ali morresse, os seus restos repousariam ao lado dos de St. Aubert. Nesse ínterim, enviou cartas a Madame Cheron e à velha governanta, informando-as do triste acontecimento que se dera, e da sua própria situação. Da tia recebeu uma resposta mais farta em condolências banais do que em traços de real pesar, a qual lhe assegurava que um criado seria enviado para conduzi-la a La Vallée, pois o seu próprio tempo estava tão ocupado por visitas que ela não tinha vagar para empreender viagem tão longa. Por mais que Emily preferisse La Vallée a Toulouse, ela não podia ficar insensível à conduta indecorosa e cruel da tia, ao deixá-la regressar para lá, onde já não tinha parente algum para consolá-la e protegê-la; conduta tanto mais culpável quanto St. Aubert nomeara Madame Cheron tutora da sua filha órfã.

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B1 Português (simplified)

O criado de Madame Cheron tornou desnecessária a ajuda de La Voisin. Emily sentiu-se grata a ele por todo o cuidado gentil que teve com seu pai e com ela mesma, e ficou contente por poupá-lo de uma longa viagem, que teria sido difícil para um homem da sua idade.

Original English

Madame Cheron's servant made the attendance of the good La Voisin unnecessary; and Emily, who felt sensibly her obligations to him, for all his kind attention to her late father, as well as to herself, was glad to spare him a long, and what, at his time of life, must have been a troublesome journey.

Original Português

O criado de Madame Cheron tornou desnecessária a companhia do bom La Voisin; e Emily, que sentia vivamente as suas obrigações para com ele, por toda a sua amável atenção ao falecido pai, bem como a ela própria, alegrou-se de poupá-lo de uma longa viagem que, na sua idade, teria sido penosa.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Durante sua estadia no convento, a paz de dentro, a beleza tranquila de fora, e o cuidado gentil da abadessa e das freiras confortaram Emily tanto que ela quase desejou deixar o mundo que tinha tirado seus amigos mais queridos e viver no convento ao lado do túmulo de St. Aubert. Sua natureza pensativa e sonhadora também lhe dava uma bela visão do retiro sagrado de uma freira, o que escondia dela o lado egoísta dessa segurança. Mas esses sentimentos tristes e um pouco supersticiosos começaram a desaparecer conforme seu ânimo melhorava, e seu coração acolheu de novo uma lembrança que só tinha sido afastada por um curto tempo. Essa lembrança trazia esperança, conforto e sentimentos de carinho. Ao longe, ela quase podia ver a felicidade, e embora soubesse que essas esperanças pudessem ser falsas, não conseguia se decidir a afastá-las para sempre. Talvez tenha sido a lembrança de Valancourt, seu bom gosto, seu talento, e o rosto que mostrava os dois, que finalmente a fez escolher voltar ao mundo. A grandeza e a beleza dos lugares onde eles se conheceram tinham despertado sua imaginação e feito Valancourt parecer mais interessante, como se parte dessa beleza também pertencesse a ele. Os elogios repetidos de St. Aubert a ele também aprovavam esse sentimento. Ainda assim, embora o rosto e as maneiras dele mostrassem claramente admiração por ela, ele nunca tinha falado abertamente. Até mesmo a esperança de vê-lo de novo era tão distante que ela quase não a notava, e muito menos sentia que ela guiava suas ações agora.

Original English

During her stay at the convent, the peace and sanctity that reigned within, the tranquil beauty of the scenery without, and the delicate attentions of the abbess and the nuns, were circumstances so soothing to her mind, that they almost tempted her to leave a world, where she had lost her dearest friends, and devote herself to the cloister, in a spot, rendered sacred to her by containing the tomb of St. Aubert. The pensive enthusiasm, too, so natural to her temper, had spread a beautiful illusion over the sanctified retirement of a nun, that almost hid from her view the selfishness of its security. But the touches, which a melancholy fancy, slightly tinctured with superstition, gave to the monastic scene, began to fade, as her spirits revived, and brought once more to her heart an image, which had only transiently been banished thence. By this she was silently awakened to hope and comfort and sweet affections; visions of happiness gleamed faintly at a distance, and, though she knew them to be illusions, she could not resolve to shut them out for ever. It was the remembrance of Valancourt, of his taste, his genius, and of the countenance which glowed with both, that, perhaps, alone determined her to return to the world. The grandeur and sublimity of the scenes, amidst which they had first met, had fascinated her fancy, and had imperceptibly contributed to render Valancourt more interesting by seeming to communicate to him somewhat of their own character. The esteem, too, which St. Aubert had repeatedly expressed for him, sanctioned this kindness; but, though his countenance and manner had continually expressed his admiration of her, he had not otherwise declared it; and even the hope of seeing him again was so distant, that she was scarcely conscious of it, still less that it influenced her conduct on this occasion.

Original Português

Durante a sua estada no convento, a paz e a santidade que reinavam lá dentro, a tranquila beleza da paisagem lá fora, e as delicadas atenções da abadessa e das freiras eram circunstâncias tão consoladoras para o seu espírito, que quase a tentaram a deixar um mundo onde perdera os seus mais caros amigos, e a consagrar-se ao claustro, num lugar tornado sagrado para ela por conter o túmulo de St. Aubert. O pensativo entusiasmo, também, tão natural à sua têmpera, espalhara uma bela ilusão sobre o santificado retiro de uma freira, que quase lhe ocultava a visão do egoísmo da sua segurança. Mas os toques que uma imaginação melancólica, levemente tingida de superstição, dava à cena monástica começaram a esmaecer, à medida que o seu ânimo se reavivava, e trouxeram mais uma vez ao seu coração uma imagem que dele só transitoriamente fora banida. Por ela foi silenciosamente despertada para a esperança, o conforto e as doces afeições; visões de felicidade cintilavam debilmente à distância e, embora soubesse serem ilusões, não conseguia resolver-se a excluí-las para sempre. Foi a lembrança de Valancourt, do seu gosto, do seu gênio, e do semblante que resplandecia com ambos, que, talvez, sozinha, a determinou a regressar ao mundo. A grandeza e a sublimidade dos cenários em meio aos quais se tinham encontrado pela primeira vez lhe haviam fascinado a imaginação e imperceptivelmente contribuído para tornar Valancourt mais interessante, ao parecerem comunicar-lhe algo do seu próprio caráter. A estima, também, que St. Aubert repetidas vezes exprimira por ele, sancionava esse afeto; mas, embora o semblante e as maneiras dele continuamente exprimissem a sua admiração por ela, ele não a declarara de outro modo; e até a esperança de tornar a vê-lo era tão remota, que ela mal tinha consciência dela, muito menos de que influísse na sua conduta nesta ocasião.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Vários dias se passaram depois que o criado de Madame Cheron chegou, antes que Emily estivesse bem o bastante para viajar até La Vallee. Na noite anterior à sua partida, ela foi até a casa para se despedir de La Voisin e sua família e para agradecer a eles. Encontrou o velho sentado em um banco na porta, entre a filha e o genro, que tinha acabado de voltar do trabalho e tocava um pequeno instrumento de sopro que soava um pouco como um oboé. Uma garrafa de vinho estava ao lado do velho, e diante dele havia uma pequena mesa com frutas e pão. Ao redor dela estavam vários de seus netos, criancinhas coradas, tomando a ceia enquanto a mãe a servia. Na beira do pequeno gramado perto da casa, o gado e algumas ovelhas descansavam sob as árvores. O sol da tarde dava à cena uma luz suave, e longos raios brilhavam através dos bosques e iluminavam as torres distantes do castelo. Emily parou antes de sair da sombra e olhou para o grupo feliz da família, para a velhice calma e saudável de La Voisin, para o cuidado carinhoso de Agnes com seus filhos, e para as próprias crianças, cujos sorrisos mostravam sua alegria simples. Depois olhou de novo para o velho e para a casa, e a lembrança do pai voltou com força. Com medo de parar por mais tempo, ela avançou rapidamente. Despediu-se de La Voisin e de sua família com emoção. Ele parecia amá-la como uma filha e chorou, e Emily também chorou muitas lágrimas. Não entrou na casa, porque sabia que isso despertaria sentimentos que não conseguiria suportar.

Original English

It was several days after the arrival of Madame Cheron's servant before Emily was sufficiently recovered to undertake the journey to La Vallee. On the evening preceding her departure, she went to the cottage to take leave of La Voisin and his family, and to make them a return for their kindness. The old man she found sitting on a bench at his door, between his daughter, and his son-in-law, who was just returned from his daily labour, and who was playing upon a pipe, that, in tone, resembled an oboe. A flask of wine stood beside the old man, and, before him, a small table with fruit and bread, round which stood several of his grandsons, fine rosy children, who were taking their supper, as their mother distributed it. On the edge of the little green, that spread before the cottage, were cattle and a few sheep reposing under the trees. The landscape was touched with the mellow light of the evening sun, whose long slanting beams played through a vista of the woods, and lighted up the distant turrets of the chateau. She paused a moment, before she emerged from the shade, to gaze upon the happy group before her - on the complacency and ease of healthy age, depictured on the countenance of La Voisin; the maternal tenderness of Agnes, as she looked upon her children, and the innocency of infantine pleasures, reflected in their smiles. Emily looked again at the venerable old man, and at the cottage; the memory of her father rose with full force upon her mind, and she hastily stepped forward, afraid to trust herself with a longer pause. She took an affectionate and affecting leave of La Voisin and his family; he seemed to love her as his daughter, and shed tears; Emily shed many. She avoided going into the cottage, since she knew it would revive emotions, such as she could not now endure.

Original Português

Passaram-se vários dias após a chegada do criado de Madame Cheron antes que Emily estivesse suficientemente restabelecida para empreender a viagem a La Vallée. Na tarde que precedeu a sua partida, foi à cabana despedir-se de La Voisin e da sua família, e retribuir-lhes a bondade. O velho encontrou-o sentado num banco à porta, entre a filha e o genro, que acabara de regressar do seu labor diário, e que tocava uma flauta que, no timbre, lembrava um oboé. Um frasco de vinho estava ao lado do velho e, diante dele, uma pequena mesa com frutas e pão, em torno da qual estavam vários dos seus netos, belas crianças coradas, que ceavam à medida que a mãe lhes distribuía a comida. À beira do pequeno relvado que se estendia diante da cabana, havia gado e algumas ovelhas repousando sob as árvores. A paisagem estava tocada pela suave luz do sol poente, cujos longos raios oblíquos brincavam através de um vão entre os bosques, e iluminavam as distantes torres do castelo. Ela deteve-se um momento, antes de emergir da sombra, para contemplar o feliz grupo diante dela - a complacência e a serenidade de uma velhice sadia, retratadas no semblante de La Voisin; a ternura maternal de Agnes, ao olhar para os filhos, e a inocência dos prazeres infantis, refletida nos seus sorrisos. Emily olhou de novo para o venerável velho, e para a cabana; a memória do pai ergueu-se com toda a força no seu espírito, e ela deu um passo apressado à frente, receosa de confiar em si mesma numa pausa mais longa. Despediu-se de La Voisin e da sua família de maneira afetuosa e comovente; ele parecia amá-la como a uma filha, e derramou lágrimas; Emily derramou muitas. Evitou entrar na cabana, pois sabia que isso reavivaria emoções que ela agora não podia suportar.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ainda restava uma tarefa dolorosa para Emily. Ela decidiu visitar o túmulo do pai mais uma vez. Para evitar ser incomodada ou observada enquanto se entregava à sua dor, esperou até que todos no convento estivessem dormindo, exceto a freira que tinha prometido lhe trazer a chave da igreja. Emily ficou em seu quarto até o sino do convento bater meia-noite. Então a freira veio com a chave de uma porta privada que dava para a igreja, e desceram juntas a escada estreita e em espiral. A freira se ofereceu para ir com Emily até o túmulo, dizendo: 'É triste ir sozinha a esta hora.' Mas Emily agradeceu e não deixou que ninguém visse sua dor. A irmã destrancou a porta e lhe deu a lamparina. Lembrou Emily de que havia uma sepultura recém-aberta na nave leste, e disse para manter a luz baixa para não tropeçar na terra solta. Emily agradeceu de novo, pegou a lamparina e entrou na igreja. A irmã Mariette então se foi. Mas Emily parou na porta. O medo tomou conta dela de repente, e ela voltou até o pé da escada. Ao ouvir os passos da freira subindo e ver seu véu preto se mover sobre o corrimão em espiral, quase a chamou de volta. Depois o véu desapareceu, e envergonhada de seu medo, ela voltou para a igreja. O ar frio das naves a gelou, e o grande espaço escuro, iluminado apenas um pouco pela luz da lua vinda de uma janela gótica distante, teria em outra ocasião a assustado com pensamentos supersticiosos. Mas agora a dor enchia sua mente. Ela quase não notou os ecos suaves de seus próprios passos nem pensou na sepultura aberta até estar quase na beira dela. Um frade tinha sido enterrado ali na noite anterior, e enquanto ela estava sentada sozinha em seu quarto ao entardecer, tinha ouvido os monges cantando a oração pela alma dele. Isso trouxe de volta os detalhes da morte de seu pai. As vozes, com o som baixo do órgão, uma vez a tinham enchido de pensamentos sombrios e comoventes. Agora ela se lembrava deles, e enquanto se desviava para evitar o chão remexido, apressou-se em direção ao túmulo de St. Aubert. Na luz da lua que atravessava parte da nave, achou que via uma sombra se movendo entre os pilares. Parou para escutar, não ouviu passos, e acreditou que sua imaginação a tinha enganado. Sem mais medo de ser vista, seguiu em frente. St. Aubert estava sob uma simples pedra de mármore, com pouco mais do que seu nome e as datas de nascimento e morte, perto do pé do grande monumento dos Villerois. Emily ficou junto ao túmulo até que o sino das orações da madrugada avisou os monges para saírem. Então ela chorou ali um último adeus e se forçou a ir embora. Depois desse triste consolo, dormiu mais profundamente do que havia dormido em muito tempo, e quando acordou, se sentiu mais calma e resignada do que estivera desde a morte de St. Aubert.

Original English

One painful scene yet awaited her, for she determined to visit again her father's grave; and that she might not be interrupted, or observed in the indulgence of her melancholy tenderness, she deferred her visit, till every inhabitant of the convent, except the nun who promised to bring her the key of the church, should be retired to rest. Emily remained in her chamber, till she heard the convent bell strike twelve, when the nun came, as she had appointed, with the key of a private door, that opened into the church, and they descended together the narrow winding stair-case, that led thither. The nun offered to accompany Emily to the grave, adding, 'It is melancholy to go alone at this hour;'but the former, thanking her for the consideration, could not consent to have any witness of her sorrow; and the sister, having unlocked the door, gave her the lamp. 'You will remember, sister,'said she, 'that in the east aisle, which you must pass, is a newly opened grave; hold the light to the ground, that you may not stumble over the loose earth.'Emily, thanking her again, took the lamp, and, stepping into the church, sister Mariette departed. But Emily paused a moment at the door; a sudden fear came over her, and she returned to the foot of the stair-case, where, as she heard the steps of the nun ascending, and, while she held up the lamp, saw her black veil waving over the spiral balusters, she was tempted to call her back. While she hesitated, the veil disappeared, and, in the next moment, ashamed of her fears, she returned to the church. The cold air of the aisles chilled her, and their deep silence and extent, feebly shone upon by the moon-light, that streamed through a distant gothic window, would at any other time have awed her into superstition; now, grief occupied all her attention. She scarcely heard the whispering echoes of her own steps, or thought of the open grave, till she found herself almost on its brink. A friar of the convent had been buried there on the preceding evening, and, as she had sat alone in her chamber at twilight, she heard, at distance, the monks chanting the requiem for his soul. This brought freshly to her memory the circumstances of her father's death; and, as the voices, mingling with a low querulous peal of the organ, swelled faintly, gloomy and affecting visions had arisen upon her mind. Now she remembered them, and, turning aside to avoid the broken ground, these recollections made her pass on with quicker steps to the grave of St. Aubert, when in the moon-light, that fell athwart a remote part of the aisle, she thought she saw a shadow gliding between the pillars. She stopped to listen, and, not hearing any footstep, believed that her fancy had deceived her, and, no longer apprehensive of being observed, proceeded. St. Aubert was buried beneath a plain marble, bearing little more than his name and the date of his birth and death, near the foot of the stately monument of the Villerois. Emily remained at his grave, till a chime, that called the monks to early prayers, warned her to retire; then, she wept over it a last farewel, and forced herself from the spot. After this hour of melancholy indulgence, she was refreshed by a deeper sleep, than she had experienced for a long time, and, on awakening, her mind was more tranquil and resigned, than it had been since St. Aubert's death.

Original Português

Uma cena penosa ainda a aguardava, pois resolvera visitar de novo o túmulo do pai; e, para que não fosse interrompida, ou observada na indulgência da sua melancólica ternura, adiou a visita até que todos os moradores do convento, à exceção da freira que prometera trazer-lhe a chave da igreja, se tivessem recolhido para o repouso. Emily permaneceu no seu quarto, até ouvir o sino do convento bater meia-noite, quando a freira veio, conforme combinara, com a chave de uma porta reservada que dava para a igreja, e desceram juntas a estreita escada em caracol que para lá conduzia. A freira ofereceu-se para acompanhar Emily até o túmulo, acrescentando: 'É melancólico ir sozinha a esta hora'; mas a primeira, agradecendo-lhe a consideração, não podia consentir em ter qualquer testemunha do seu pesar; e a irmã, tendo destrancado a porta, deu-lhe a lâmpada. 'Lembrai-vos, irmã', disse ela, 'de que na ala leste, por onde deveis passar, há um túmulo recém-aberto; mantende a luz junto ao chão, para não tropeçardes na terra solta.' Emily, agradecendo-lhe de novo, tomou a lâmpada e, ao entrar na igreja, a irmã Mariette partiu. Mas Emily deteve-se um momento à porta; um súbito temor a acometeu, e ela voltou ao pé da escada, onde, ao ouvir os passos da freira que subia e, enquanto erguia a lâmpada, ver o seu véu negro ondulando sobre os balaústres em espiral, foi tentada a chamá-la de volta. Enquanto hesitava, o véu desapareceu e, no momento seguinte, envergonhada dos seus temores, voltou à igreja. O ar frio das alas gelou-a, e o seu profundo silêncio e a sua extensão, debilmente iluminados pelo luar que se derramava por uma distante janela gótica, em qualquer outra ocasião a teriam sobrecogido de superstição; agora, a dor lhe ocupava toda a atenção. Ela mal ouvia os ecos sussurrantes dos próprios passos, ou pensava no túmulo aberto, até se ver quase à sua borda. Um frade do convento fora ali sepultado na tarde anterior e, quando ela estava sentada sozinha no seu quarto ao crepúsculo, ouvira, ao longe, os monges entoando o réquiem pela sua alma. Isso trouxe de novo, viva, à sua memória, as circunstâncias da morte do pai; e, à medida que as vozes, mesclando-se a um baixo e queixoso retinir do órgão, se avolumavam debilmente, visões lúgubres e comoventes tinham surgido no seu espírito. Agora ela as recordava e, desviando-se para evitar o terreno revolvido, essas lembranças a fizeram avançar com passos mais rápidos até o túmulo de St. Aubert, quando, no luar que caía obliquamente sobre uma parte remota da ala, julgou ver uma sombra deslizar entre os pilares. Deteve-se para escutar e, não ouvindo passo algum, acreditou que a sua imaginação a enganara e, já não receosa de ser observada, prosseguiu. St. Aubert fora sepultado sob um mármore simples, que trazia pouco mais do que o seu nome e as datas do seu nascimento e da sua morte, junto ao pé do imponente monumento dos Villeroi. Emily permaneceu junto ao túmulo, até que um repique, que chamava os monges às primeiras orações, a advertiu de que se retirasse; então, chorou sobre ele um último adeus e forçou-se a deixar o lugar. Após aquela hora de melancólica indulgência, foi revigorada por um sono mais profundo do que experimentara havia muito tempo, e, ao despertar, o seu espírito estava mais tranquilo e resignado do que estivera desde a morte de St. Aubert.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Mas quando chegou a hora de deixar o convento, sua dor voltou. Ela se sentia ligada ao lugar por causa dos mortos e da bondade dos vivos. O lugar onde os restos mortais de seu pai estavam enterrados parecia para ela um lar. A abadessa lhe disse muitas palavras gentis e pediu que voltasse se fosse infeliz em outro lugar. Muitas das freiras também sentiram verdadeira pena de vê-la partir. Emily deixou o convento em lágrimas, com sinceros desejos de felicidade.

Original English

But, when the moment of her departure from the convent arrived, all her grief returned; the memory of the dead, and the kindness of the living attached her to the place; and for the sacred spot, where her father's remains were interred, she seemed to feel all those tender affections which we conceive for home. The abbess repeated many kind assurances of regard at their parting, and pressed her to return, if ever she should find her condition elsewhere unpleasant; many of the nuns also expressed unaffected regret at her departure, and Emily left the convent with many tears, and followed by sincere wishes for her happiness.

Original Português

Mas, quando chegou o momento da sua partida do convento, toda a sua dor retornou; a memória dos mortos e a bondade dos vivos prendiam-na àquele lugar; e pelo sagrado recinto onde os restos do pai jaziam sepultados ela parecia sentir todas aquelas ternas afeições que concebemos pelo lar. A abadessa repetiu muitas amáveis garantias de estima ao despedirem-se, e instou-a a regressar, se alguma vez viesse a achar a sua condição, em outro lugar, desagradável; muitas das freiras também exprimiram um pesar sincero pela sua partida, e Emily deixou o convento com muitas lágrimas, seguida por sinceros votos de felicidade.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ela viajou várias léguas antes que a paisagem ao redor conseguisse tirá-la de sua profunda tristeza, mesmo que por um momento. Quando conseguiu, isso só a lembrou de que St. Aubert tinha estado ao seu lado da última vez que vira aqueles lugares, e das coisas que ele tinha dito sobre paisagens parecidas. Assim o dia passou tranquilamente, sem nenhum acontecimento especial, em tristeza e fraqueza. Ela dormiu naquela noite em uma cidade perto da fronteira do Languedoc, e na manhã seguinte entrou na Gasconha.

Original English

She had travelled several leagues, before the scenes of the country, through which she passed, had power to rouse her for a moment from the deep melancholy, into which she was sunk, and, when they did, it was only to remind her, that, on her last view of them, St. Aubert was at her side, and to call up to her remembrance the remarks he had delivered on similar scenery. Thus, without any particular occurrence, passed the day in languor and dejection. She slept that night in a town on the skirts of Languedoc, and, on the following morning, entered Gascony.

Original Português

Ela viajara várias léguas, antes que os cenários da região por que passava tivessem o poder de despertá-la, por um momento, da profunda melancolia em que estava mergulhada, e, quando o tinham, era apenas para lembrar-lhe que, na última vez que os vira, St. Aubert estava a seu lado, e para trazer-lhe à memória as observações que ele fizera acerca de cenários semelhantes. Assim, sem nenhum acontecimento particular, passou o dia em languidez e abatimento. Naquela noite dormiu numa cidade nos confins do Languedoc, e, na manhã seguinte, entrou na Gasconha.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Perto do fim do dia, Emily avistou as planícies perto de La Vallee, e velhas paisagens do passado começaram a chamar sua atenção. Com elas vieram lembranças que a encheram de ternura e dor. Enquanto olhava, através das lágrimas, para a beleza selvagem dos Pirineus, agora brilhantes com a luz e as sombras do entardecer, ela se lembrou de como o pai tinha compartilhado esse prazer com ela na última vez que os vira. Depois algum lugar que ele tinha lhe mostrado especialmente aparecia diante dela, e o desespero afundava em seu coração. 'Ali!' ela exclamava. 'Ali estão os penhascos, e ali está o pinheiral que ele amava quando passamos por aqui pela última vez. Ali, debaixo daquela montanha, está a casinha entre os cedros que ele me disse para lembrar e desenhar. Ó meu pai, será que nunca mais vou te ver!'

Original English

Towards the close of this day, Emily came within view of the plains in the neighbourhood of La Vallee, and the well-known objects of former times began to press upon her notice, and with them recollections, that awakened all her tenderness and grief. Often, while she looked through her tears upon the wild grandeur of the Pyrenees, now varied with the rich lights and shadows of evening, she remembered, that, when last she saw them, her father partook with her of the pleasure they inspired. Suddenly some scene, which he had particularly pointed out to her, would present itself, and the sick languor of despair would steal upon her heart. 'There!'she would exclaim, 'there are the very cliffs, there the wood of pines, which he looked at with such delight, as we passed this road together for the last time. There, too, under the crag of that mountain, is the cottage, peeping from among the cedars, which he bade me remember, and copy with my pencil. O my father, shall I never see you more!'

Original Português

Ao fim daquele dia, Emily avistou as planícies das cercanias de La Vallée, e os objetos bem conhecidos de outros tempos começaram a impor-se à sua atenção, e com eles lembranças que despertavam toda a sua ternura e o seu pesar. Muitas vezes, enquanto olhava por entre as lágrimas para a agreste grandeza dos Pirineus, agora matizada pelas ricas luzes e sombras do entardecer, lembrava-se de que, quando os vira pela última vez, o pai partilhara com ela o prazer que eles inspiravam. De súbito, algum cenário que ele lhe apontara em particular se lhe apresentava, e a doente languidez do desespero lhe insinuava-se no coração. 'Ali!', exclamava, 'ali estão os próprios rochedos, ali o bosque de pinheiros, que ele contemplou com tanto deleite, quando percorremos juntos este caminho pela última vez. Ali, também, sob o penhasco daquela montanha, está a cabana, a espreitar por entre os cedros, que ele me pediu para lembrar e copiar com o meu lápis. Ó meu pai, será que nunca mais te verei!'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Conforme se aproximava do castelo, as lembranças tristes do passado ficavam cada vez mais fortes. Por fim o castelo em si apareceu na beleza brilhante da paisagem favorita de St. Aubert. Aquela era uma visão que exigia força, não lágrimas. Emily secou os olhos e se preparou para enfrentar o momento doloroso de voltar a um lar onde nenhum dos pais estaria para recebê-la. 'Sim,' disse ela, 'que eu não esqueça as lições que ele me ensinou! Ele muitas vezes me mostrou que até a tristeza justa deve ser resistida. Nós sempre admiramos a grandeza de uma mente que pode sofrer e ainda assim raciocinar. Ó meu pai! se você puder olhar para sua filha lá de cima, vai ficar feliz de ver que ela se lembra de seus ensinamentos e tenta segui-los.'

Original English

As she drew near the chateau, these melancholy memorials of past times multiplied. At length, the chateau itself appeared, amid the glowing beauty of St. Aubert's favourite landscape. This was an object, which called for fortitude, not for tears; Emily dried hers, and prepared to meet with calmness the trying moment of her return to that home, where there was no longer a parent to welcome her. 'Yes,'said she, 'let me not forget the lessons he has taught me! How often he has pointed out the necessity of resisting even virtuous sorrow; how often we have admired together the greatness of a mind, that can at once suffer and reason! O my father! if you are permitted to look down upon your child, it will please you to see, that she remembers, and endeavours to practise, the precepts you have given her.'

Original Português

À medida que se aproximava do castelo, esses melancólicos memoriais de tempos idos se multiplicavam. Por fim, o próprio castelo apareceu, em meio à radiante beleza da paisagem predileta de St. Aubert. Este era um objeto que reclamava fortaleza, não lágrimas; Emily enxugou as suas e preparou-se para enfrentar com serenidade o momento penoso do seu regresso àquele lar, onde já não havia um pai para recebê-la. 'Sim', disse ela, 'que eu não esqueça as lições que ele me ensinou! Quantas vezes ele apontou a necessidade de resistir mesmo a uma dor virtuosa; quantas vezes admiramos juntos a grandeza de um espírito que pode, a um só tempo, sofrer e raciocinar! Ó meu pai! se te for permitido olhar de cima para a tua filha, há de agradar-te ver que ela se lembra, e se esforça por pôr em prática, os preceitos que lhe deste.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Uma curva na estrada lhe deu uma visão mais próxima do castelo. Suas chaminés, iluminadas pela luz do entardecer, erguiam-se por trás dos carvalhos favoritos de St. Aubert, cujas folhas escondiam parte da casa. Emily não conseguiu conter um suspiro pesado. 'Esta também era sua hora favorita,' disse ela, olhando para as longas sombras do entardecer sobre a terra. 'Como é tranquilo, como é bonito! Bonito e calmo, como era no passado.'

Original English

A turn on the road now allowed a nearer view of the chateau, the chimneys, tipped with light, rising from behind St. Aubert's favourite oaks, whose foliage partly concealed the lower part of the building. Emily could not suppress a heavy sigh. 'This, too, was his favourite hour,'said she, as she gazed upon the long evening shadows, stretched athwart the landscape. 'How deep the repose, how lovely the scene! lovely and tranquil as in former days!'

Original Português

Uma curva na estrada permitia agora uma vista mais próxima do castelo, com as chaminés, tingidas de luz, erguendo-se por trás dos carvalhos prediletos de St. Aubert, cuja folhagem em parte ocultava a porção inferior do edifício. Emily não pôde reprimir um pesado suspiro. 'Esta, também, era a sua hora predileta', disse ela, enquanto contemplava as longas sombras do entardecer, estendidas obliquamente sobre a paisagem. 'Que profundo repouso, que cenário adorável! adorável e tranquilo como nos dias de outrora!'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ela lutou contra sua tristeza de novo, até que o som de uma dança animada chegou até ela. Tinha ouvido aquilo tantas vezes enquanto caminhava com St. Aubert à beira do Garona que sua coragem se quebrou. Continuou chorando até que a carruagem parou no pequeno portão que dava para o que agora era sua própria terra. Quando a carruagem parou de repente, ela olhou para cima e viu a velha governanta de seu pai vindo abrir o portão. Manchon também correu latindo. Quando sua jovem dona desceu, ele se aninhou nela e dançou ao seu redor, respirando rápido de alegria.

Original English

Again she resisted the pressure of sorrow, till her ear caught the gay melody of the dance, which she had so often listened to, as she walked with St. Aubert, on the margin of the Garonne, when all her fortitude forsook her, and she continued to weep, till the carriage stopped at the little gate, that opened upon what was now her own territory. She raised her eyes on the sudden stopping of the carriage, and saw her father's old housekeeper coming to open the gate. Manchon also came running, and barking before her; and when his young mistress alighted, fawned, and played round her, gasping with joy.

Original Português

De novo resistiu ao peso do pesar, até que o seu ouvido captou a alegre melodia da dança, que tantas vezes escutara, ao passear com St. Aubert, à margem do Garona, quando toda a sua fortaleza a abandonou, e ela continuou a chorar, até que a carruagem parou junto ao pequeno portão que dava para o que era agora o seu próprio território. Ergueu os olhos à súbita parada da carruagem e viu a velha governanta do pai vindo abrir o portão. Manchon também veio correndo e ladrando à frente dela; e, quando a sua jovem senhora desceu, fez-lhe festas e brincou à sua volta, ofegante de alegria.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Querida mademoiselle!' disse Theresa. Ela parou, como se quisesse consolar Emily, mas Emily estava perturbada demais para responder. O cão ainda se aninhava e corria ao redor dela, depois se lançou até a carruagem com latidos curtos e rápidos. 'Ah, mademoiselle! Meu pobre patrão!' disse Theresa, cujos sentimentos eram mais fortes que sua timidez. 'Manchon foi procurar por ele.' Emily gritou. Olhando para a porta aberta da carruagem, viu o cão pular para dentro, depois pular para fora de imediato, e correr ao redor dos cavalos com o focinho no chão.

Original English

'Dear ma'amselle!'said Theresa, and paused, and looked as if she would have offered something of condolement to Emily, whose tears now prevented reply. The dog still fawned and ran round her, and then flew towards the carriage, with a short quick bark. 'Ah, ma'amselle! - my poor master!'said Theresa, whose feelings were more awakened than her delicacy, 'Manchon's gone to look for him.'Emily sobbed aloud; and, on looking towards the carriage, which still stood with the door open, saw the animal spring into it, and instantly leap out, and then with his nose on the ground run round the horses.

Original Português

'Querida mademoiselle!', disse Theresa, e deteve-se, e olhou como se fosse oferecer algum consolo a Emily, cujas lágrimas agora impediam qualquer resposta. O cão ainda fazia festas e corria à sua volta, e então voou em direção à carruagem, com um latido curto e agudo. 'Ah, mademoiselle! - meu pobre amo!', disse Theresa, cujos sentimentos estavam mais despertos do que a sua delicadeza, 'Manchon foi procurá-lo.' Emily soluçou em voz alta; e, ao olhar para a carruagem, que ainda estava com a porta aberta, viu o animal saltar para dentro dela, e no mesmo instante saltar para fora, e então, com o focinho no chão, correr em torno dos cavalos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Não chore assim, mademoiselle,' disse Theresa. 'Isso parte meu coração ver a senhorita assim.' O cão correu até Emily, depois voltou para a carruagem, depois voltou para ela de novo, choramingando tristemente. 'Pobre criatura!' disse Theresa. 'Você perdeu seu patrão, então bem pode chorar. Mas venha, minha querida jovem senhorita, seja corajosa. O que posso lhe trazer para fazê-la se sentir melhor?' Emily deu a mão à velha criada e tentou conter sua dor, enquanto perguntava gentilmente sobre a saúde de Theresa. Mas ainda ficou parada no caminho até o castelo, porque não havia ninguém lá dentro para recebê-la com carinho. Seu coração não pulava mais de esperança feliz diante de um sorriso familiar, e ela temia as coisas lá dentro que trariam de volta lembranças completas de sua antiga felicidade. Caminhou devagar em direção à porta, parou, seguiu, e parou de novo. O castelo parecia silencioso, abandonado e solitário. Com medo de entrar, mas se culpando por demorar, finalmente entrou no salão. Atravessou-o rapidamente, como se tivesse medo de olhar ao redor, e abriu a porta do quarto que costumava chamar de seu. A escuridão do entardecer fazia o quarto quieto e vazio parecer ainda mais solene. As cadeiras, as mesas, e cada móvel, tão familiares em dias mais felizes, falavam profundamente ao seu coração. Sem perceber a princípio, sentou-se junto a uma janela que dava para o jardim, onde St. Aubert tinha se sentado com ela muitas vezes, observando o sol se pôr sobre a ampla vista além das árvores.

Original English

'Don't cry so, ma'amselle,'said Theresa, 'it breaks my heart to see you.'The dog now came running to Emily, then returned to the carriage, and then back again to her, whining and discontented. 'Poor rogue!'said Theresa, 'thou hast lost thy master, thou mayst well cry! But come, my dear young lady, be comforted. What shall I get to refresh you?'Emily gave her hand to the old servant, and tried to restrain her grief, while she made some kind enquiries concerning her health. But she still lingered in the walk which led to the chateau, for within was no person to meet her with the kiss of affection; her own heart no longer palpitated with impatient joy to meet again the well-known smile, and she dreaded to see objects, which would recall the full remembrance of her former happiness. She moved slowly towards the door, paused, went on, and paused again. How silent, how forsaken, how forlorn did the chateau appear! Trembling to enter it, yet blaming herself for delaying what she could not avoid, she, at length, passed into the hall; crossed it with a hurried step, as if afraid to look round, and opened the door of that room, which she was wont to call her own. The gloom of evening gave solemnity to its silent and deserted air. The chairs, the tables, every article of furniture, so familiar to her in happier times, spoke eloquently to her heart. She seated herself, without immediately observing it, in a window, which opened upon the garden, and where St. Aubert had often sat with her, watching the sun retire from the rich and extensive prospect, that appeared beyond the groves.

Original Português

'Não choreis assim, mademoiselle', disse Theresa, 'parte-me o coração ver-vos.' O cão veio agora correndo até Emily, depois voltou à carruagem, e então de novo até ela, ganindo e descontente. 'Pobre malandro!', disse Theresa, 'perdeste o teu amo, bem podes chorar! Mas vinde, minha querida jovem senhora, consolai-vos. Que hei de trazer-vos para vos reanimar?' Emily deu a mão à velha criada e tentou refrear o pesar, enquanto fazia algumas amáveis perguntas acerca da sua saúde. Mas ainda se demorava na alameda que conduzia ao castelo, pois lá dentro não havia ninguém para recebê-la com o beijo do afeto; o seu próprio coração já não palpitava de impaciente alegria por reencontrar o sorriso bem conhecido, e ela temia ver objetos que lhe recordassem por inteiro a lembrança da sua antiga felicidade. Moveu-se lentamente em direção à porta, deteve-se, prosseguiu, e deteve-se de novo. Quão silencioso, quão abandonado, quão desolado parecia o castelo! Trêmula ao entrar nele, e contudo censurando-se por adiar o que não podia evitar, ela, por fim, passou ao vestíbulo; atravessou-o com passo apressado, como se temesse olhar em torno, e abriu a porta daquele aposento que costumava chamar de seu. A penumbra do entardecer dava solenidade ao seu ar silencioso e deserto. As cadeiras, as mesas, cada peça de mobiliário, tão familiares a ela em tempos mais felizes, falavam eloquentemente ao seu coração. Sentou-se, sem de imediato o notar, numa janela que dava para o jardim, e onde St. Aubert tantas vezes se sentara com ela, a ver o sol retirar-se da rica e extensa paisagem que se descortinava para além dos arvoredos.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de chorar por algum tempo, ela ficou mais calma. Quando Theresa voltou depois de levar a bagagem para o quarto de sua senhorita, Emily já tinha se recuperado o bastante para falar com ela.

Original English

Having indulged her tears for some time, she became more composed; and, when Theresa, after seeing the baggage deposited in her lady's room, again appeared, she had so far recovered her spirits, as to be able to converse with her.

Original Português

Tendo-se entregue às lágrimas por algum tempo, ficou mais serena; e, quando Theresa, depois de ver a bagagem depositada no quarto da sua senhora, reapareceu, ela já recobrara o ânimo o bastante para poder conversar com ela.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Preparei a cama verde para a senhorita,' disse Theresa, colocando o café sobre a mesa. 'Pensei que gostaria mais dela do que da sua por enquanto. Mas nunca pensei, há um mês, que voltaria sozinha. Ah, a notícia quase partiu meu coração quando chegou. Quem acreditaria que meu pobre patrão, quando saiu de casa, nunca mais voltaria?' Emily escondeu o rosto com o lenço e acenou com a mão.

Original English

'I have made up the green bed for you, ma'amselle,'said Theresa, as she set the coffee upon the table. 'I thought you would like it better than your own now; but I little thought this day month, that you would come back alone. A-well-a-day! the news almost broke my heart, when it did come. Who would have believed, that my poor master, when he went from home, would never return again!'Emily hid her face with her handkerchief, and waved her hand.

Original Português

'Preparei-vos a cama verde, mademoiselle', disse Theresa, ao pôr o café sobre a mesa. 'Achei que a preferiríeis agora à vossa própria; mas bem pouco imaginei, faz hoje um mês, que voltaríeis sozinha. Ai de mim! a notícia quase me partiu o coração, quando afinal chegou. Quem haveria de crer que o meu pobre amo, quando partiu de casa, nunca mais regressaria!' Emily ocultou o rosto no lenço e agitou a mão.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Por favor, prove o café,' disse Theresa. 'Querida senhorita, tenha consolo. Todos nós temos que morrer. Meu querido patrão é um santo lá em cima.' Emily tirou o lenço do rosto e olhou para o céu com lágrimas nos olhos. Logo depois secou-as e, com voz calma mas trêmula, começou a perguntar sobre alguns dos pensionistas de seu falecido pai.

Original English

'Do taste the coffee,'said Theresa. 'My dear young lady, be comforted - we must all die. My dear master is a saint above.'Emily took the handkerchief from her face, and raised her eyes full of tears towards heaven; soon after she dried them, and, in a calm, but tremulous voice, began to enquire concerning some of her late father's pensioners.

Original Português

'Provai o café', disse Theresa. 'Minha querida jovem senhora, consolai-vos - todos havemos de morrer. O meu querido amo é um santo lá em cima.' Emily afastou o lenço do rosto e ergueu os olhos rasos de lágrimas para o céu; pouco depois enxugou-os e, com voz calma, mas trêmula, começou a indagar acerca de alguns dos pensionistas do falecido pai.

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Ai de mim!' disse Theresa, enquanto servia o café e o dava à sua senhora. 'Todos que puderam vieram aqui todos os dias perguntar por você e por meu patrão.' Depois contou que algumas pessoas que estavam bem quando eles saíram agora estavam mortas, enquanto outras que estavam doentes tinham se recuperado. 'E olhe, senhorita,' acrescentou, 'a velha Mary está vindo pelo jardim agora. Há três anos ela parece que vai morrer, mas ainda está viva. Ela viu a carruagem na porta e sabe que a senhorita voltou.'

Original English

'Alas-a-day!'said Theresa, as she poured out the coffee, and handed it to her mistress, 'all that could come, have been here every day to enquire after you and my master.'She then proceeded to tell, that some were dead whom they had left well; and others, who were ill, had recovered. 'And see, ma'amselle,'added Theresa, 'there is old Mary coming up the garden now; she has looked every day these three years as if she would die, yet she is alive still. She has seen the chaise at the door, and knows you are come home.'

Original Português

'Ai de nós!', disse Theresa, enquanto servia o café e o entregava à sua senhora, 'todos os que puderam vir estiveram aqui todos os dias a perguntar por vós e pelo meu amo.' Passou então a contar que alguns tinham morrido, os quais eles haviam deixado bem de saúde; e outros, que estavam doentes, se tinham recuperado. 'E vede, mademoiselle', acrescentou Theresa, 'lá vem a velha Mary subindo o jardim agora; há três anos que tem cara, todos os dias, de quem vai morrer, e contudo ainda está viva. Viu a caleche à porta, e sabe que voltastes para casa.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

A visão dessa pobre velha teria sido demais para Emily, então ela pediu a Theresa que fosse dizer a ela que estava doente demais para ver alguém naquela noite. 'Amanhã talvez eu esteja melhor; mas dê a ela este sinal de que me lembro dela.'

Original English

The sight of this poor old woman would have been too much for Emily, and she begged Theresa would go and tell her, that she was too ill to see any person that night. 'To-morrow I shall be better, perhaps; but give her this token of my remembrance.'

Original Português

A visão daquela pobre velha teria sido demais para Emily, e ela rogou a Theresa que fosse dizer-lhe que estava adoentada demais para ver qualquer pessoa naquela noite. 'Amanhã estarei melhor, talvez; mas dai-lhe esta lembrança da minha parte.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily ficou sentada por um tempo, cheia de tristeza. Tudo o que via trazia de volta uma lembrança, e cada lembrança levava à sua dor. Suas plantas favoritas, que St. Aubert tinha lhe ensinado a cuidar; os pequenos desenhos no quarto, que o bom gosto dele tinha lhe ensinado a fazer; os livros que ele tinha escolhido para ela e que tinham lido juntos; seus instrumentos musicais, cujos sons ele amava e às vezes tocava ele mesmo - tudo isso tornava sua tristeza mais forte. Por fim ela se forçou a se levantar. Reuniu toda a sua coragem e foi em direção àqueles quartos tristes. Tinha medo de entrar neles, mas sabia que a afetariam ainda mais se ela esperasse mais tempo.

Original English

Emily sat for some time, given up to sorrow. Not an object, on which her eye glanced, but awakened some remembrance, that led immediately to the subject of her grief. Her favourite plants, which St. Aubert had taught her to nurse; the little drawings, that adorned the room, which his taste had instructed her to execute; the books, that he had selected for her use, and which they had read together; her musical instruments, whose sounds he loved so well, and which he sometimes awakened himself - every object gave new force to sorrow. At length, she roused herself from this melancholy indulgence, and, summoning all her resolution, stepped forward to go into those forlorn rooms, which, though she dreaded to enter, she knew would yet more powerfully affect her, if she delayed to visit them.

Original Português

Emily permaneceu sentada por algum tempo, entregue ao pesar. Não havia objeto sobre o qual o seu olhar deslizasse que não despertasse alguma lembrança, a qual conduzia imediatamente ao motivo do seu pesar. As suas plantas prediletas, que St. Aubert lhe ensinara a cultivar; os pequenos desenhos que adornavam o quarto, e que o gosto dele a instruíra a executar; os livros que ele selecionara para o seu uso, e que tinham lido juntos; os seus instrumentos musicais, cujos sons ele tanto amava, e que ele próprio por vezes despertava - cada objeto dava nova força ao pesar. Por fim, arrancou-se a essa melancólica indulgência e, reunindo toda a sua resolução, deu um passo à frente para entrar naqueles aposentos desolados que, embora receasse penetrar, sabia que a afetariam ainda mais poderosamente se adiasse visitá-los.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois de passar pela estufa, ela perdeu a coragem por um momento quando abriu a porta da biblioteca. A luz do entardecer e as folhas perto das janelas tornavam o quarto ainda mais sério, e tudo nele lhe lembrava do pai. Ali estava a poltrona dele, e ela estremeceu ao vê-la, porque tinha visto tantas vezes ele sentado ali. A imagem dele veio tão clara à sua mente que quase pensou que ele estava diante dela. Ela controlou esses pensamentos assustadores, embora ainda sentisse um temor reverente. Caminhou devagar até a cadeira e se sentou nela. Uma escrivaninha de leitura estava diante dela, e um livro aberto estava sobre ela, exatamente como o pai o tinha deixado. Ela demorou algum tempo antes de ousar olhar para ele. Quando o fez, se lembrou de como St. Aubert tinha lido trechos daquele autor favorito para ela na noite anterior a deixar o castelo. Isso a comoveu profundamente. Olhou para a página, chorou, e olhou de novo. O livro parecia sagrado e precioso para ela. Não o teria movido nem fechado a página por todas as riquezas da Índia. Ficou ali, incapaz de sair, mesmo com o quarto ficando mais escuro e silencioso. Seus pensamentos voltaram-se para o estado dos mortos, e ela se lembrou da triste conversa entre St. Aubert e La Voisin na noite antes de ele morrer.

Original English

Having passed through the green-house, her courage for a moment forsook her, when she opened the door of the library; and, perhaps, the shade, which evening and the foliage of the trees near the windows threw across the room, heightened the solemnity of her feelings on entering that apartment, where every thing spoke of her father. There was an arm chair, in which he used to sit; she shrunk when she observed it, for she had so often seen him seated there, and the idea of him rose so distinctly to her mind, that she almost fancied she saw him before her. But she checked the illusions of a distempered imagination, though she could not subdue a certain degree of awe, which now mingled with her emotions. She walked slowly to the chair, and seated herself in it; there was a reading-desk before it, on which lay a book open, as it had been left by her father. It was some moments before she recovered courage enough to examine it; and, when she looked at the open page, she immediately recollected, that St. Aubert, on the evening before his departure from the chateau, had read to her some passages from this his favourite author. The circumstance now affected her extremely; she looked at the page, wept, and looked again. To her the book appeared sacred and invaluable, and she would not have moved it, or closed the page, which he had left open, for the treasures of the Indies. Still she sat before the desk, and could not resolve to quit it, though the increasing gloom, and the profound silence of the apartment, revived a degree of painful awe. Her thoughts dwelt on the probable state of departed spirits, and she remembered the affecting conversation, which had passed between St. Aubert and La Voisin, on the night preceding his death.

Original Português

Tendo atravessado a estufa, a coragem por um momento a abandonou, quando abriu a porta da biblioteca; e, talvez, a sombra que o entardecer e a folhagem das árvores junto às janelas lançavam sobre o aposento realçava a solenidade dos seus sentimentos ao entrar naquele recinto, onde tudo falava do pai. Havia uma poltrona em que ele costumava sentar-se; ela encolheu-se ao repará-la, pois tantas vezes o vira ali sentado, e a ideia dele lhe surgiu tão distintamente ao espírito, que quase imaginou vê-lo diante de si. Mas conteve as ilusões de uma imaginação alterada, embora não conseguisse subjugar certo grau de reverente temor que agora se mesclava às suas emoções. Caminhou lentamente até a poltrona e sentou-se nela; havia diante dela uma estante de leitura, sobre a qual jazia um livro aberto, tal como fora deixado pelo pai. Passaram-se alguns momentos antes que ela recobrasse coragem suficiente para examiná-lo; e, quando olhou para a página aberta, lembrou-se imediatamente de que St. Aubert, na tarde anterior à sua partida do castelo, lhe lera algumas passagens deste seu autor predileto. A circunstância agora a afetou extremamente; olhou para a página, chorou, e olhou de novo. Para ela o livro parecia sagrado e inestimável, e ela não o teria movido, nem fechado a página que ele deixara aberta, por todos os tesouros das Índias. Ainda permanecia sentada diante da estante, e não conseguia resolver-se a deixá-la, embora a penumbra crescente e o profundo silêncio do aposento reavivassem um grau de penoso temor. Os seus pensamentos detiveram-se no provável estado dos espíritos dos que partiram, e ela lembrou-se da comovente conversa que se dera entre St. Aubert e La Voisin, na noite que precedeu a sua morte.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto estava sentada pensando, viu a porta se abrir devagar, e um som de sussurro em uma parte distante do quarto a assustou. Na luz fraca, achou que via algo se mover. Seus pensamentos anteriores e seu estado infeliz fizeram sua imaginação aceitar cada pequeno sinal, e de repente ela temeu algo sobrenatural. Ficou parada por um momento. Depois sua razão mais calma voltou, e ela disse: 'Do que devo temer? Se os espíritos daqueles que amamos voltam para nós, é por bondade.'

Original English

As she mused she saw the door slowly open, and a rustling sound in a remote part of the room startled her. Through the dusk she thought she perceived something move. The subject she had been considering, and the present tone of her spirits, which made her imagination respond to every impression of her senses, gave her a sudden terror of something supernatural. She sat for a moment motionless, and then, her dissipated reason returning, 'What should I fear?'said she. 'If the spirits of those we love ever return to us, it is in kindness.'

Original Português

Enquanto cismava, viu a porta abrir-se lentamente, e um ruído farfalhante numa parte remota do aposento a sobressaltou. Através da penumbra, julgou perceber algo mover-se. O tema que estivera considerando, e o atual estado do seu ânimo, que fazia a sua imaginação responder a cada impressão dos seus sentidos, deram-lhe um súbito terror de algo sobrenatural. Ficou sentada, por um momento, imóvel, e então, retornando-lhe a razão dispersa: 'Que deveria eu temer?', disse. 'Se os espíritos daqueles que amamos alguma vez regressam a nós, é por bondade.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

O silêncio a fez se envergonhar de seu medo, e ela pensou que sua imaginação a tinha enganado, ou que tinha ouvido um daqueles ruídos estranhos que às vezes acontecem em casas antigas. Mas o mesmo som veio de novo. Ela viu algo se movendo em sua direção, e depois ao seu lado na cadeira. Gritou, mas seu medo desapareceu na hora quando viu que era Manchon. Ele se sentou perto dela e lambeu suas mãos com carinho.

Original English

The silence, which again reigned, made her ashamed of her late fears, and she believed, that her imagination had deluded her, or that she had heard one of those unaccountable noises, which sometimes occur in old houses. The same sound, however, returned; and, distinguishing something moving towards her, and in the next instant press beside her into the chair, she shrieked; but her fleeting senses were instantly recalled, on perceiving that it was Manchon who sat by her, and who now licked her hands affectionately.

Original Português

O silêncio, que de novo reinou, a envergonhou dos seus temores recentes, e ela acreditou que a imaginação a iludira, ou que ouvira um daqueles ruídos inexplicáveis que por vezes ocorrem em casas antigas. O mesmo som, porém, retornou; e, distinguindo algo que se movia em sua direção e, no instante seguinte, se comprimia ao seu lado na poltrona, ela deu um grito; mas os seus sentidos fugidios foram de imediato recobrados, ao perceber que era Manchon quem se sentava junto a ela, e que agora lhe lambia as mãos com afeto.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ao ver que estava perturbada demais para visitar os quartos vazios do castelo naquela noite, ela saiu da biblioteca e caminhou até o jardim, depois desceu até o terraço acima do rio. O sol tinha se posto, mas sob as amendoeiras escuras ela ainda podia ver o brilho amarelo do oeste, além do crepúsculo que se apagava. Um morcego voou silenciosamente por perto, e de vez em quando ela ouvia o canto triste de um rouxinol. A hora a fez lembrar de alguns versos que uma vez tinha ouvido St. Aubert recitar naquele mesmo lugar, e agora encontrava um triste tipo de conforto em repeti-los.

Original English

Perceiving her spirits unequal to the task she had assigned herself of visiting the deserted rooms of the chateau this night, when she left the library, she walked into the garden, and down to the terrace, that overhung the river. The sun was now set; but, under the dark branches of the almond trees, was seen the saffron glow of the west, spreading beyond the twilight of middle air. The bat flitted silently by; and, now and then, the mourning note of the nightingale was heard. The circumstances of the hour brought to her recollection some lines, which she had once heard St. Aubert recite on this very spot, and she had now a melancholy pleasure in repeating them.

Original Português

Percebendo que o seu ânimo não estava à altura da tarefa que se atribuíra, de visitar naquela noite os aposentos desertos do castelo, quando deixou a biblioteca, ela saiu para o jardim e desceu até o terraço que se debruçava sobre o rio. O sol já se pusera; mas, sob os ramos escuros das amendoeiras, via-se o brilho açafroado do ocidente, espalhando-se para além do crepúsculo do ar intermédio. O morcego adejava silencioso; e, de quando em quando, ouvia-se a nota pesarosa do rouxinol. As circunstâncias da hora trouxeram-lhe à lembrança alguns versos que certa vez ouvira St. Aubert recitar neste mesmo lugar, e ela sentiu agora um melancólico prazer em repeti-los.

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B1 Português (simplified)

SONETO Agora o morcego voa em círculos na brisa da noite. A brisa se insinua tremendo em rajadas ao longo da onda. Ela treme pelos bosques e pela caverna, cujos suspiros solitários enganam o viajante. Pois muitas vezes, quando a tristeza encanta sua mente, ele pensa ouvir o Espírito da rocha. Ele escuta, com um medo doce e emocionante, os murmúrios baixos e místicos do vento. Agora o morcego voa em círculos, e o orvalho do crepúsculo cai em silêncio ao redor. Sobre o penhasco da montanha, a onda brilhante, e o barco distante, ele espalha um véu cinza de tom suave e harmonioso. Assim o orvalho da lágrima de piedade cai sobre a Dor e escurece suas visões solitárias de desespero.

Original English

SONNET Now the bat circles on the breeze of eve, That creeps, in shudd'ring fits, along the wave, And trembles 'mid the woods, and through the cave Whose lonely sighs the wanderer deceive; For oft, when melancholy charms his mind, He thinks the Spirit of the rock he hears, Nor listens, but with sweetly-thrilling fears, To the low, mystic murmurs of the wind! Now the bat circles, and the twilight-dew Falls silent round, and, o'er the mountain-cliff, The gleaming wave, and far-discover'd skiff, Spreads the gray veil of soft, harmonious hue. So falls o'er Grief the dew of pity's tear Dimming her lonely visions of despair.

Original Português

SONETO Agora o morcego gira na brisa da tarde, Que rasteja, em trêmulos arrepios, ao longo da vaga, E estremece por entre os bosques, e através da caverna Cujos suspiros solitários iludem o viandante; Pois muitas vezes, quando a melancolia lhe encanta a mente, Julga ouvir o Espírito do rochedo, E não escuta senão com temores docemente arrepiantes, Os baixos e místicos murmúrios do vento! Agora o morcego gira, e o orvalho do crepúsculo Cai silencioso em derredor, e, sobre o penhasco da montanha, A vaga reluzente, e o esquife avistado ao longe, Espalha o véu cinzento de brando e harmonioso matiz. Assim cai sobre a Dor o orvalho da lágrima da compaixão, Enevoando as suas solitárias visões de desespero.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Emily continuou andando e chegou à árvore de plátano favorita de St. Aubert, onde muitas vezes tinham se sentado juntos à sombra, a essa mesma hora. Ela e sua querida mãe também tinham falado ali, muitas vezes, sobre a vida depois da morte. O pai frequentemente dizia o quanto de conforto sentia ao acreditar que se encontrariam de novo em outro mundo. Essas lembranças dominaram Emily, e ela deixou o plátano. Apoiou-se com tristeza no muro do terraço e viu um grupo de camponeses dançando alegremente nas margens do Garona lá embaixo. O rio era largo e refletia a luz do entardecer. Eram uma visão alegre, ao contrário da solitária e infeliz Emily. Estavam animados e amigáveis, como muitas vezes tinham estado quando ela também era feliz, e quando St. Aubert escutava sua música animada com um rosto cheio de prazer e bondade. Emily olhou para eles por um momento, depois se virou porque a lembrança era dolorosa demais. Mas para onde ela poderia se virar sem encontrar algo mais que aprofundasse sua tristeza?

Original English

Emily, wandering on, came to St. Aubert's favourite plane-tree, where so often, at this hour, they had sat beneath the shade together, and with her dear mother so often had conversed on the subject of a future state. How often, too, had her father expressed the comfort he derived from believing, that they should meet in another world! Emily, overcome by these recollections, left the plane-tree, and, as she leaned pensively on the wall of the terrace, she observed a group of peasants dancing gaily on the banks of the Garonne, which spread in broad expanse below, and reflected the evening light. What a contrast they formed to the desolate, unhappy Emily! They were gay and debonnaire, as they were wont to be when she, too, was gay - when St. Aubert used to listen to their merry music, with a countenance beaming pleasure and benevolence. Emily, having looked for a moment on this sprightly band, turned away, unable to bear the remembrances it excited; but where, alas! could she turn, and not meet new objects to give acuteness to grief?

Original Português

Emily, prosseguindo na sua caminhada, chegou ao plátano predileto de St. Aubert, onde tantas vezes, a esta hora, se tinham sentado juntos sob a sombra, e com a sua querida mãe tantas vezes conversara sobre o tema de um estado futuro. Quantas vezes, também, o pai exprimira o conforto que extraía de crer que se reencontrariam em outro mundo! Emily, vencida por essas lembranças, deixou o plátano e, enquanto se debruçava, pensativa, sobre o muro do terraço, observou um grupo de camponeses dançando alegremente às margens do Garona, que se estendia em larga amplidão lá embaixo, e refletia a luz do entardecer. Que contraste eles formavam com a desolada e infeliz Emily! Estavam alegres e desenvoltos, como costumavam estar quando ela, também, era alegre - quando St. Aubert costumava escutar-lhes a música jovial, com um semblante a irradiar prazer e benevolência. Emily, tendo olhado por um momento para aquele viçoso bando, desviou-se, incapaz de suportar as lembranças que ele suscitava; mas para onde, ai! poderia voltar-se, sem deparar com novos objetos que aguçassem o pesar?

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B1 Português (simplified)

Enquanto caminhava devagar em direção à casa, Theresa a encontrou. 'Querida mademoiselle,' disse ela, 'estou procurando pela senhorita há meia hora, e temi que algo tivesse acontecido. Como pode gostar de andar por aí no ar da noite? Por favor, entre na casa. Pense no que meu pobre patrão diria se pudesse ver a senhorita. Tenho certeza de que ele sentiu muito a morte da minha querida senhora, embora a senhorita saiba que ele quase nunca chorava.'

Original English

As she walked slowly towards the house, she was met by Theresa. 'Dear ma'amselle,'said she, 'I have been seeking you up and down this half hour, and was afraid some accident had happened to you. How can you like to wander about so in this night air! Do come into the house. Think what my poor master would have said, if he could see you. I am sure, when my dear lady died, no gentleman could take it more to heart than he did, yet you know he seldom shed a tear.'

Original Português

Enquanto caminhava lentamente em direção à casa, foi encontrada por Theresa. 'Querida mademoiselle', disse ela, 'faz meia hora que vos procuro de um lado para outro, e receei que algum acidente vos tivesse acontecido. Como podeis gostar de vagar assim neste ar noturno! Entrai em casa. Pensai no que o meu pobre amo teria dito, se vos pudesse ver. Estou certa de que, quando a minha querida senhora morreu, nenhum cavalheiro poderia tê-lo sentido mais fundo do que ele, e contudo, sabeis, ele raramente derramava uma lágrima.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Por favor, Theresa, pare,' disse Emily, querendo interromper esse discurso pouco sensato, mas bem-intencionado. Mas Theresa não era fácil de silenciar. 'E quando a senhorita costumava sofrer tanto,' disse ela, 'ele muitas vezes lhe dizia que estava errada, porque minha senhora era feliz. E se ela era feliz, tenho certeza de que ele também é, pois dizem que as orações dos pobres chegam ao céu.' Enquanto falava, Emily já tinha entrado silenciosamente no castelo, e Theresa a guiou com a luz pelo salão até a sala de estar comum, onde tinha posto a mesa para o jantar com apenas uma faca e um garfo. Emily já estava no quarto antes de perceber que não era o seu. Mesmo assim, conteve seus sentimentos e se sentou quieta junto à pequena mesa de jantar. O chapéu do pai estava pendurado na parede à sua frente. Quando olhou para ele, sentiu-se fraca e quase desmaiou. Theresa viu que ela olhava para o chapéu e se moveu para tirá-lo, mas Emily fez sinal com a mão. 'Não,' disse ela, 'deixe ficar. Vou para o meu quarto.' 'Mas, mademoiselle, o jantar está pronto.' 'Não consigo comer,' respondeu Emily. 'Vou para o meu quarto e tentar dormir. Amanhã vou me sentir melhor.'

Original English

'Pray, Theresa, cease,'said Emily, wishing to interrupt this ill-judged, but well-meaning harangue; Theresa's loquacity, however, was not to be silenced so easily. 'And when you used to grieve so,'she added, 'he often told you how wrong it was - for that my mistress was happy. And, if she was happy, I am sure he is so too; for the prayers of the poor, they say, reach heaven.'During this speech, Emily had walked silently into the chateau, and Theresa lighted her across the hall into the common sitting parlour, where she had laid the cloth, with one solitary knife and fork, for supper. Emily was in the room before she perceived that it was not her own apartment, but she checked the emotion which inclined her to leave it, and seated herself quietly by the little supper table. Her father's hat hung upon the opposite wall; while she gazed at it, a faintness came over her. Theresa looked at her, and then at the object, on which her eyes were settled, and went to remove it; but Emily waved her hand - 'No,'said she, 'let it remain. I am going to my chamber.''Nay, ma'amselle, supper is ready.''I cannot take it,'replied Emily, 'I will go to my room, and try to sleep. Tomorrow I shall be better.'

Original Português

'Peço-te, Theresa, cala-te', disse Emily, desejando interromper aquela arenga malaconselhada, mas bem-intencionada; a loquacidade de Theresa, contudo, não se deixava silenciar tão facilmente. 'E quando vós vos afligíeis assim', acrescentou ela, 'ele muitas vezes vos dizia quão errado era - pois a minha senhora estava feliz. E, se ela estava feliz, tenho certeza de que ele também está; pois as orações dos pobres, dizem, alcançam o céu.' Durante esse discurso, Emily entrara em silêncio no castelo, e Theresa iluminou-lhe o caminho através do vestíbulo até a sala de estar comum, onde pusera a mesa, com um solitário garfo e uma faca, para a ceia. Emily estava já no aposento antes de perceber que não era o seu próprio, mas conteve a emoção que a inclinava a deixá-lo, e sentou-se calmamente junto à pequena mesa da ceia. O chapéu do pai pendia da parede oposta; enquanto o fitava, um desfalecimento a acometeu. Theresa olhou para ela, e depois para o objeto em que os seus olhos se detinham, e foi retirá-lo; mas Emily agitou a mão - 'Não', disse ela, 'deixa-o ficar. Vou para o meu quarto.' 'Ora, mademoiselle, a ceia está pronta.' 'Não posso ceiar', respondeu Emily, 'vou para o meu quarto, e tentarei dormir. Amanhã estarei melhor.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Isso é triste,' disse Theresa. 'Querida senhorita, por favor coma alguma coisa! Cozinhei um faisão, e é um bem bonito. O velho senhor Barreaux o mandou hoje de manhã, porque o vi ontem e disse a ele que a senhorita estava chegando. E não conheço ninguém que pareceu mais triste ao ouvir a notícia triste do que ele.'

Original English

'This is poor doings!'said Theresa. 'Dear lady! do take some food! I have dressed a pheasant, and a fine one it is. Old Monsieur Barreaux sent it this morning, for I saw him yesterday, and told him you were coming. And I know nobody that seemed more concerned, when he heard the sad news, then he.'

Original Português

'Que triste coisa!', disse Theresa. 'Querida senhora! comei alguma coisa! Preparei um faisão, e é um belo faisão. O velho monsieur Barreaux mandou-o esta manhã, pois eu o vi ontem, e lhe disse que vós vínheis. E não conheço ninguém que parecesse mais consternado, quando ouviu a triste notícia, do que ele.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

'Ele ficou?' disse Emily, com voz terna, e por um momento seu pobre coração se sentiu mais aquecido por causa desse pequeno sinal de simpatia.

Original English

'Did he?'said Emily, in a tender voice, while she felt her poor heart warmed for a moment by a ray of sympathy.

Original Português

'Ele ficou?', disse Emily, com voz terna, enquanto sentia o pobre coração aquecer-se por um momento com um raio de compaixão.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Por fim, ela foi completamente dominada pela dor e foi para o seu quarto.

Original English

At length, her spirits were entirely overcome, and she retired to her room.

Original Português

Por fim, o seu ânimo foi de todo vencido, e ela recolheu-se ao seu quarto.

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Chapter IX

B1 Português (simplified)

Pode a voz da Música, o olho da Beleza, ou a mão radiante da Pintura dar um encanto tão adequado à minha mente quanto esta rajada oca de vento? Podem elas igualar este pequeno riacho chorão, tilintando suavemente pela colina coberta de musgo? No oeste, o dia carmesim se põe. Ali o Crepúsculo manso navega devagar e acena com suas bandeiras cinzentas. MASON

Original English

Can Music's voice, can Beauty's eye, Can Painting's glowing hand supply A charm so suited to my mind, As blows this hollow gust of wind? As drops this little weeping rill, Soft tinkling down the moss-grown hill; While, through the west, where sinks the crimson day, Meek Twilight slowly sails, and waves her banners gray? MASON

Original Português

Poderá a voz da Música, poderá o olhar da Beleza, Poderá a mão resplandecente da Pintura ofertar Um encanto tão afeito ao meu espírito Como sopra esta oca rajada de vento? Como pinga este pequeno regato lacrimoso, Tinindo suave colina abaixo, coberta de musgo; Enquanto, pelo poente, onde mergulha o dia carmesim, O manso Crepúsculo lentamente singra, e ondeia os seus estandartes cinzentos? MASON

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B1 Português (simplified)

Algum tempo depois de Emily voltar para La Vallee, ela recebeu cartas de sua tia, Madame Cheron. Depois de algumas palavras comuns de simpatia e conselho, Madame Cheron a convidou para Tholouse e acrescentou que, já que seu falecido irmão tinha confiado a educação de Emily a ela, precisava vigiar o comportamento de Emily. Nessa época, Emily só queria ficar em La Vallee, entre os lugares onde uma vez fora feliz e que agora lhe eram mais queridos por terem sido o lar daqueles que tinha perdido para sempre. Ali podia chorar sem ser vista, caminhar de novo em memória pelos caminhos deles e se lembrar de cada pequena parte de suas vidas. Mas também temia deixar Madame Cheron zangada.

Original English

Emily, some time after her return to La Vallee, received letters from her aunt, Madame Cheron, in which, after some common-place condolement and advice, she invited her to Tholouse, and added, that, as her late brother had entrusted Emily's EDUCATION to her, she should consider herself bound to overlook her conduct. Emily, at this time, wished only to remain at La Vallee, in the scenes of her early happiness, now rendered infinitely dear to her, as the late residence of those, whom she had lost for ever, where she could weep unobserved, retrace their steps, and remember each minute particular of their manners. But she was equally anxious to avoid the displeasure of Madame Cheron.

Original Português

Emily, algum tempo após o seu regresso a La Vallée, recebeu cartas da sua tia, Madame Cheron, nas quais, após algumas condolências e conselhos banais, ela a convidava a Toulouse, e acrescentava que, tendo o seu falecido irmão confiado a ela a EDUCAÇÃO de Emily, ela se julgaria obrigada a fiscalizar-lhe a conduta. Emily, nesse momento, desejava apenas permanecer em La Vallée, nos cenários da sua primeira felicidade, agora infinitamente caros a ela, como a última residência daqueles que perdera para sempre, onde podia chorar sem ser observada, refazer-lhes os passos, e recordar cada minúcia das suas maneiras. Mas estava igualmente ansiosa por evitar o desagrado de Madame Cheron.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Embora seu amor por St. Aubert a fizesse ter certeza de que ele tinha escolhido Madame Cheron com sabedoria como sua tutora, ela ainda sabia que essa escolha significava que sua felicidade dependia muito do humor da tia. Em sua resposta, pediu para ficar por enquanto em La Vallee. Disse que estava profundamente triste e precisava de paz e sossego para se recuperar. Sabia que não encontraria isso na casa de Madame Cheron, onde a vida era cheia de prazer e gastos, e sua grande fortuna incentivava esse estilo de vida. Depois de enviar sua resposta, sentiu-se um pouco mais calma.

Original English

Though her affection would not suffer her to question, even a moment, the propriety of St. Aubert's conduct in appointing Madame Cheron for her guardian, she was sensible, that this step had made her happiness depend, in a great degree, on the humour of her aunt. In her reply, she begged permission to remain, at present, at La Vallee, mentioning the extreme dejection of her spirits, and the necessity she felt for quiet and retirement to restore them. These she knew were not to be found at Madame Cheron's, whose inclinations led her into a life of dissipation, which her ample fortune encouraged; and, having given her answer, she felt somewhat more at ease.

Original Português

Embora a sua afeição não lhe permitisse questionar, nem por um momento, a conveniência da conduta de St. Aubert em nomear Madame Cheron sua tutora, ela tinha consciência de que esse passo tornara a sua felicidade dependente, em grande medida, do humor da tia. Na sua resposta, rogou permissão para permanecer, por ora, em La Vallée, mencionando o extremo abatimento do seu ânimo e a necessidade que sentia de sossego e recolhimento para restaurá-lo. Estes, ela sabia, não haviam de encontrar-se em casa de Madame Cheron, cujas inclinações a arrastavam a uma vida de dissipação, que a sua ampla fortuna favorecia; e, tendo dado a sua resposta, sentiu-se um tanto mais aliviada.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Nos primeiros dias de sua dor, o senhor Barreaux veio visitá-la. Ele era um verdadeiro enlutado por St. Aubert. 'Tenho todos os motivos para sentir falta do meu amigo,' disse ele, 'pois nunca vou encontrar outro como ele. Se eu tivesse encontrado um homem assim na sociedade, nunca a teria deixado.'

Original English

In the first days of her affliction, she was visited by Monsieur Barreaux, a sincere mourner for St. Aubert. 'I may well lament my friend,'said he, 'for I shall never meet with his resemblance. If I could have found such a man in what is called society, I should not have left it.'

Original Português

Nos primeiros dias da sua aflição, foi visitada por Monsieur Barreaux, um sincero pranteador de St. Aubert. 'Bem posso lamentar o meu amigo', disse ele, 'pois nunca encontrarei seu igual. Se eu pudesse ter encontrado tal homem no que se chama sociedade, não a teria deixado.'

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B1 Português (simplified)

A admiração do senhor Barreaux pelo seu pai fez Emily gostar muito dele. Conversar com um homem que respeitava tanto lhe deu um dos primeiros consolos que sentiu. Podia falar sobre seus pais com ele, e ele tinha um coração tão bom e uma mente tão gentil, mesmo que não parecesse simpático à primeira vista.

Original English

M. Barreaux's admiration of her father endeared him extremely to Emily, whose heart found almost its first relief in conversing of her parents, with a man, whom she so much revered, and who, though with such an ungracious appearance, possessed to much goodness of heart and delicacy of mind.

Original Português

A admiração de M. Barreaux pelo pai tornou-o extremamente querido a Emily, cujo coração encontrou quase o seu primeiro alívio ao conversar sobre os pais com um homem que ela tanto reverenciava, e que, embora de aparência tão pouco amável, possuía tanta bondade de coração e delicadeza de espírito.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Várias semanas se passaram em vida tranquila, e a dor de Emily se transformou em uma tristeza profunda. Ela conseguia de novo ler os livros que tinha lido com o pai, sentar-se na cadeira dele na biblioteca, observar as flores que ele tinha plantado, e tocar o instrumento que ele tinha tocado. Às vezes até tocava a música favorita dele.

Original English

Several weeks passed away in quiet retirement, and Emily's affliction began to soften into melancholy. She could bear to read the books she had before read with her father; to sit in his chair in the library - to watch the flowers his hand had planted - to awaken the tones of that instrument his fingers had pressed, and sometimes even to play his favourite air.

Original Português

Várias semanas se passaram em sereno recolhimento, e a aflição de Emily começou a abrandar-se em melancolia. Ela conseguia suportar a leitura dos livros que antes lera com o pai; sentar-se na poltrona dele na biblioteca - velar pelas flores que a mão dele plantara - despertar as notas daquele instrumento que os dedos dele tinham premido, e por vezes até tocar a sua ária predileta.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Depois que o primeiro choque da dor passou, Emily viu o perigo da preguiça. Sabia que só a atividade poderia ajudá-la a se recuperar, então tentava passar cada hora fazendo algo útil. Agora entendia o quanto era valiosa a educação de St. Aubert. Ele tinha treinado sua mente para que ela pudesse evitar a ociosidade sem precisar de uma vida social agitada. Também tinha lhe dado interesses e conhecimentos ricos, mesmo que ela estivesse afastada das pessoas. Seu ensinamento fez mais do que ajudá-la a si mesma. Ele tinha cultivado todos os bons sentimentos no coração dela, então agora ela sentia bondade por todos ao seu redor. Quando não podia remover os problemas dos outros, podia ao menos aliviá-los com simpatia e gentileza. Aprendeu a se importar com todos os que sofriam.

Original English

When her mind had recovered from the first shock of affliction, perceiving the danger of yielding to indolence, and that activity alone could restore its tone, she scrupulously endeavoured to pass all her hours in employment. And it was now that she understood the full value of the education she had received from St. Aubert, for in cultivating her understanding he had secured her an asylum from indolence, without recourse to dissipation, and rich and varied amusement and information, independent of the society, from which her situation secluded her. Nor were the good effects of this education confined to selfish advantages, since, St. Aubert having nourished every amiable qualify of her heart, it now expanded in benevolence to all around her, and taught her, when she could not remove the misfortunes of others, at least to soften them by sympathy and tenderness; - a benevolence that taught her to feel for all, that could suffer.

Original Português

Quando o seu espírito se recobrou do primeiro choque da aflição, percebendo o perigo de ceder à indolência, e que só a atividade poderia restaurar-lhe o tônus, ela escrupulosamente se esforçou por passar todas as suas horas em ocupação. E foi então que compreendeu todo o valor da educação que recebera de St. Aubert, pois, ao cultivar-lhe o entendimento, ele lhe assegurara um asilo contra a indolência, sem recurso à dissipação, e um passatempo e uma informação ricos e variados, independentes da sociedade da qual a sua situação a apartava. Nem os bons efeitos dessa educação se limitavam a vantagens egoístas, pois, tendo St. Aubert nutrido cada amável qualidade do seu coração, ele agora se expandia em benevolência para com todos ao seu redor, e a ensinava, quando não podia remover os infortúnios alheios, ao menos a suavizá-los pela compaixão e pela ternura; - uma benevolência que a ensinava a sentir por tudo o que pudesse sofrer.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Madame Cheron não respondeu à carta de Emily, e Emily começou a ter esperança de que pudesse ficar em seu retiro tranquilo por mais um tempo. Sua mente tinha se recuperado o bastante para lhe permitir visitar lugares que traziam lembranças fortes. Um deles era a casa de pesca. Para aprofundar o prazer triste da visita, ela levou seu alaúde para poder ouvir de novo os sons que St. Aubert e sua mãe tinham amado. Foi sozinha no entardecer calmo, uma hora que acalma tanto a mente quanto a dor. Da última vez que estivera ali, tinha estado com o senhor e a senhora St. Aubert, apenas alguns dias antes de a senhora St. Aubert adoecer e morrer. Agora, quando Emily entrou nos bosques ao redor do prédio, as lembranças voltaram com tanta força que ela desabou de imediato. Parou, apoiou-se em uma árvore e chorou por vários minutos antes de conseguir continuar. O caminho até o prédio estava coberto de grama, e as flores que St. Aubert tinha espalhado ao longo da borda estavam quase escondidas pelo mato. Ela parava frequentemente para olhar aquele lugar triste e abandonado. Quando abriu a porta com a mão trêmula, disse: 'Ah! tudo continua como quando o deixei pela última vez, deixei com aqueles que nunca mais devem voltar!' Foi até uma janela acima do riacho e olhou para a água, perdida em pensamentos tristes. O alaúde ao seu lado foi esquecido. O suspiro do vento nos pinheiros altos e seus sons suaves entre os salgueiros na margem combinavam com seus sentimentos. Isso a confortava como a própria piedade. Continuou pensando, sem notar o entardecer escurecendo nem o último raio de sol nas colinas, até que um passo repentino do lado de fora a assustou. De imediato se lembrou de que estava sozinha e desprotegida. Então uma porta se abriu e um estranho apareceu. Ele parou ao ver Emily e começou a se desculpar por ter entrado. Mas Emily ouviu sua voz e seu medo se transformou em um sentimento mais forte. A voz era familiar, e embora a luz estivesse fraca demais para ver o rosto dele com clareza, ela se sentiu segura o bastante para confiar na memória.

Original English

Madame Cheron returned no answer to Emily's letter, who began to hope, that she should be permitted to remain some time longer in her retirement, and her mind had now so far recovered its strength, that she ventured to view the scenes, which most powerfully recalled the images of past times. Among these was the fishing-house; and, to indulge still more the affectionate melancholy of the visit, she took thither her lute, that she might again hear there the tones, to which St. Aubert and her mother had so often delighted to listen. She went alone, and at that still hour of the evening which is so soothing to fancy and to grief. The last time she had been here she was in company with Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert, a few days preceding that, on which the latter was seized with a fatal illness. Now, when Emily again entered the woods, that surrounded the building, they awakened so forcibly the memory of former times, that her resolution yielded for a moment to excess of grief. She stopped, leaned for support against a tree, and wept for some minutes, before she had recovered herself sufficiently to proceed. The little path, that led to the building, was overgrown with grass and the flowers which St. Aubert had scattered carelessly along the border were almost choked with weeds - the tall thistle - the fox-glove, and the nettle. She often paused to look on the desolate spot, now so silent and forsaken, and when, with a trembling hand, she opened the door of the fishing-house, 'Ah!'said she, 'every thing - every thing remains as when I left it last - left it with those who never must return!'She went to a window, that overhung the rivulet, and, leaning over it, with her eyes fixed on the current, was soon lost in melancholy reverie. The lute she had brought lay forgotten beside her; the mournful sighing of the breeze, as it waved the high pines above, and its softer whispers among the osiers, that bowed upon the banks below, was a kind of music more in unison with her feelings. It did not vibrate on the chords of unhappy memory, but was soothing to the heart as the voice of Pity. She continued to muse, unconscious of the gloom of evening, and that the sun's last light trembled on the heights above, and would probably have remained so much longer, if a sudden footstep, without the building, had not alarmed her attention, and first made her recollect that she was unprotected. In the next moment, a door opened, and a stranger appeared, who stopped on perceiving Emily, and then began to apologize for his intrusion. But Emily, at the sound of his voice, lost her fear in a stronger emotion: its tones were familiar to her ear, and, though she could not readily distinguish through the dusk the features of the person who spoke, she felt a remembrance too strong to be distrusted.

Original Português

Madame Cheron não deu resposta alguma à carta de Emily, que começou a esperar que lhe fosse permitido permanecer mais algum tempo no seu retiro, e o seu espírito já recobrara de tal modo as forças, que ela se aventurou a rever os cenários que mais poderosamente lhe recordavam as imagens de tempos idos. Entre estes estava a casa de pesca; e, para ainda mais se entregar à afetuosa melancolia da visita, levou para lá o seu alaúde, a fim de ali ouvir de novo as notas que St. Aubert e a mãe tanto se tinham deleitado em escutar. Foi sozinha, e naquela hora tranquila do entardecer que é tão consoladora à imaginação e à dor. A última vez que ali estivera fora em companhia de Monsieur e Madame St. Aubert, poucos dias antes daquele em que esta última foi acometida de uma doença fatal. Agora, quando Emily de novo penetrou nos bosques que rodeavam o edifício, eles despertaram tão fortemente a memória dos tempos idos, que a sua resolução cedeu por um momento a um excesso de dor. Deteve-se, apoiou-se, em busca de amparo, contra uma árvore, e chorou por alguns minutos, antes de se ter recobrado o suficiente para prosseguir. A pequena vereda que conduzia ao edifício estava coberta de erva, e as flores que St. Aubert espalhara descuidadamente ao longo da borda estavam quase sufocadas pelo mato - o alto cardo - a dedaleira e a urtiga. Ela deteve-se muitas vezes a contemplar o lugar desolado, agora tão silencioso e abandonado, e quando, com mão trêmula, abriu a porta da casa de pesca: 'Ah!', disse ela, 'tudo - tudo permanece como quando o deixei pela última vez - deixei-o com aqueles que nunca mais hão de voltar!' Foi até uma janela que se debruçava sobre o riacho e, apoiando-se nela, com os olhos fixos na correnteza, logo se perdeu num melancólico devaneio. O alaúde que trouxera jazia esquecido a seu lado; o pesaroso sussurrar da brisa, ao ondear os altos pinheiros no alto, e os seus mais brandos murmúrios entre os salgueiros que se curvavam sobre as margens abaixo, era uma espécie de música mais em uníssono com os seus sentimentos. Não vibrava nas cordas da memória infeliz, mas era consolador ao coração como a voz da Compaixão. Ela continuou a cismar, inconsciente da penumbra do entardecer, e de que a última luz do sol tremulava nas alturas acima, e provavelmente ali teria permanecido muito mais tempo, não tivesse um súbito passo, fora do edifício, alarmado a sua atenção, e a feito, pela primeira vez, lembrar-se de que estava desprotegida. No momento seguinte, uma porta se abriu, e um estranho apareceu, que se deteve ao perceber Emily, e então começou a desculpar-se pela sua intrusão. Mas Emily, ao som da voz dele, perdeu o medo numa emoção mais forte: os seus tons eram familiares ao seu ouvido e, embora não pudesse distinguir prontamente, através da penumbra, as feições da pessoa que falava, sentiu uma lembrança forte demais para ser desconfiada.

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B1 Português (simplified)

Ele repetiu suas desculpas, e Emily respondeu. Então o estranho avançou ansiosamente e disse: 'Meu Deus! Pode ser - com certeza não estou enganado - mademoiselle St. Aubert? Não é?'

Original English

He repeated his apology, and Emily then said something in reply, when the stranger eagerly advancing, exclaimed, 'Good God! can it be - surely I am not mistaken - ma'amselle St. Aubert? - is it not?'

Original Português

Ele repetiu a sua desculpa, e Emily então disse algo em resposta, quando o estranho, avançando com ardor, exclamou: 'Deus do céu! será possível - decerto não me engano - mademoiselle St. Aubert? - não é?'

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B1 Português (simplified)

'É sim,' disse Emily. Ela agora via que era Valancourt, e seu rosto mostrava ainda mais vida do que o normal. Muitas lembranças dolorosas correram para sua mente, e o esforço para se manter calma só a deixou mais perturbada. Valancourt perguntou gentilmente sobre a saúde dela e disse que esperava que a viagem tivesse ajudado o senhor St. Aubert. Mas as lágrimas de Emily logo lhe contaram a terrível verdade. Ele a levou até um assento e se sentou ao lado dela. Emily continuou chorando, e Valancourt segurou sua mão, sem sequer perceber que a tinha pegado, até que ela ficou molhada de lágrimas, de dor por St. Aubert e de pena por ela.

Original English

'It is indeed,'said Emily, who was confirmed in her first conjecture, for she now distinguished the countenance of Valancourt, lighted up with still more than its usual animation. A thousand painful recollections crowded to her mind, and the effort, which she made to support herself, only served to increase her agitation. Valancourt, meanwhile, having enquired anxiously after her health, and expressed his hopes, that M. St. Aubert had found benefit from travelling, learned from the flood of tears, which she could no longer repress, the fatal truth. He led her to a seat, and sat down by her, while Emily continued to weep, and Valancourt to hold the hand, which she was unconscious he had taken, till it was wet with the tears, which grief for St. Aubert and sympathy for herself had called forth.

Original Português

'Sou, de fato', disse Emily, que se confirmou na sua primeira conjetura, pois agora distinguia o semblante de Valancourt, iluminado com ainda mais do que a sua habitual animação. Mil dolorosas lembranças acorreram-lhe ao espírito, e o esforço que fez para se suster apenas serviu para aumentar-lhe a agitação. Valancourt, entretanto, tendo perguntado com solicitude pela saúde dela, e exprimido as suas esperanças de que M. St. Aubert tivesse encontrado proveito na viagem, apreendeu, pela torrente de lágrimas que ela já não podia reprimir, a fatal verdade. Conduziu-a a um assento e sentou-se junto dela, enquanto Emily continuava a chorar, e Valancourt a segurar a mão que ela não tinha consciência de que ele tomara, até que ela se molhou das lágrimas que o pesar por St. Aubert e a compaixão por si mesma tinham feito brotar.

Back to B1    Original English

B1 Português (simplified)

'Sinto,' disse ele por fim, 'que não posso consolá-la nisso. Só posso sofrer com você, porque não posso duvidar do que suas lágrimas significam. Quisera a Deus estar enganado!'

Original English

'I feel,'said he at length, 'I feel how insufficient all attempt at consolation must be on this subject. I can only mourn with you, for I cannot doubt the source of your tears. Would to God I were mistaken!'

Original Português

'Sinto', disse ele por fim, 'sinto quão insuficiente toda tentativa de consolo há de ser sobre este assunto. Só posso pranteá-lo convosco, pois não posso duvidar da origem das vossas lágrimas. Prouvera a Deus que eu me enganasse!'

Back to B1    Original English

Glossary: New Words

Priority words from the simplified reading, selected by CEFR level, rarity and editorial usefulness. Each entry shows up to six real sentences from this book; every Back to B1 link opens the exact sentence in the simplified version.

abandon /əˈbændən/ (4)

Português: abandonar; abandono

Simple English: To leave someone with no intention of returning.

Example: He chose to abandon his project because it was too difficult.

Uses in this book:

1. The chateau seemed silent, abandoned, and lonely. Back to B1

actual /ˈæktʃuəl/ (1)

Português: real; efectiva; verdadeiro

Simple English: Existing in reality rather than being imagined or theoretical.

Example: The actual results of the experiment surprised the entire research team greatly.

Uses in this book:

1. The miser who thinks himself worthy because he has money, and mistakes the power to do good for actually doing good, is no more blameworthy than the person who has sentiment without active virtue. Back to B1

approve /əˈpruːv/ (6)

Português: aprovar; autorizar

Simple English: To officially agree or accept a plan or proposal after review.

Example: The committee will approve the project's budget during their next meeting.

Uses in this book:

1. St. Aubert's repeated praise of him also approved this feeling. Back to B1

beat /biːt/ (7)

Português: bater; vencer; batida

Simple English: The main rhythm or pulse of a musical piece or poem.

Example: The beat of the song made everyone want to dance immediately.

Uses in this book:

1. Her heart beat hard as she came nearer the voices, and she startled at the sound of leaves under her feet. Back to B1

bitter /ˈbɪtər/ (10)

Português: amargo; ressentido; azedo

Simple English: Having a sharp unpleasant taste.

Example: The coffee was bitter.

Uses in this book:

1. "It will soften the bitter moments of death." Tears fell slowly down his cheeks. Back to B1

broad /brɔːd/ (6)

Português: ampla; largo; vasto

Simple English: Having a large distance between one side and another.

Example: The river is broad enough for several boats to cross at once.

Uses in this book:

1. He gave her a broad knowledge of science and a full understanding of fine literature. Back to B1

2. In my youth, how often I climbed among its broad branches! Back to B1

bullet /ˈbʊlɪt/ (2)

Português: bala; marcador; tiro

Simple English: Small cylindrical metal projectile fired from a gun.

Example: The bullet missed the target and hit the wall instead.

Uses in this book:

1. After looking at Valancourt's arm, he saw that the bullet had gone through the flesh without hitting the bone. Back to B1

circumstance (7)

Português: circunstância; condição; situação

Simple English: a fact or condition that affects a situation

Example: Under these circumstances, we must wait.

Uses in this book:

1. He said it was decent compared with what they had just seen, though in other circumstances he would have been ashamed to offer it. Back to B1

command /kəˈmænd/ (12)

Português: comando; comandar; ordem

Simple English: A specific instruction for a computer to execute a task.

Example: You need to enter the right command to run the program successfully.

Uses in this book:

1. His face showed, above all, the pride of a commander and the quick mind of a man who judges things fast. Back to B1

2. It was not a voice of command or of distress, but a deep, hollow sound that seemed almost not human. Back to B1

3. You must burn those papers, and I command you, solemnly, not to read them first.' Back to B1

constant /ˈkɒnstənt/ (9)

Português: constante; permanente; contínua

Simple English: Happening all the time; not changing; persistent.

Example: He had a constant smile on his face throughout the entire event.

Uses in this book:

1. In the city, they make constant pleasure-seeking less necessary, and therefore less tempting.” Back to B1

contract /ˈkɒntrækt/ (1)

Português: contrato

Simple English: An official agreement specifying duties of each involved side.

Example: They signed a contract that outlines the project deadlines and responsibilities.

Uses in this book:

1. He also told her that, if she married, she should make it part of the marriage contract that the chateau would always be hers. Back to B1

convinced /kənˈvɪnst/ (8)

Português: convencido; convenceu; convicto

Simple English: Having a strong belief in something.

Example: He is convinced that he will win the competition next week.

Uses in this book:

1. After they convinced him that neither he nor his master was in danger, they left him for the night in a cottage at the edge of the woods. Back to B1

crash /kræʃ/ (8)

Português: acidente; bater; queda

Simple English: Accident in which a vehicle collides with something.

Example: The crash caused a major traffic jam on the highway this morning.

Uses in this book:

1. On their broken ridges lay heavy snow that trembled at the smallest sound and seemed ready to crash down into the valley. Back to B1

creature /ˈkriːtʃər/ (5)

Português: criatura

Simple English: Any living being that can move on its own.

Example: The forest is full of strange creatures at night.

Uses in this book:

1. No living creature could be seen except the izard, which climbed among the rocks and often stood on such dangerous points that even the imagination drew back from them. Back to B1

2. 'Poor creature!' said Theresa. Back to B1

Crisis /ˈkraɪsɪs/ (1)

Português: crise

Simple English: Serious or dangerous situation needing immediate attention.

Example: The country faced a financial crisis that required urgent intervention.

Uses in this book:

1. On the seventh day, she was at the crisis. Back to B1

curved /kɜːrvd/ (6)

Português: curvo; curva

Simple English: Having a shape that is rounded rather than straight.

Example: The curved path led us through the beautiful forest.

Uses in this book:

1. The road curved along the foot of the mountains through a peaceful valley full of green plants. Back to B1

Date /deɪt/ (2)

Português: data; encontro; namorar

Simple English: A day of the month or year.

Example: What is today’s date?

Uses in this book:

1. St. Aubert lay under a plain marble stone with little more than his name and the dates of his birth and death, near the foot of the grand monument of the Villerois. Back to B1

decent /ˈdiːsənt/ (2)

Português: decente; digno; aceitável

Simple English: Treating others with respect and honesty consistently in behavior.

Example: It’s important to be decent and fair in all your dealings.

Uses in this book:

1. I travel for health as well as for fun.' He sighed and paused, then continued: 'If I can find a good road with decent places to stay, I plan to go into Rousillon and along the coast to Languedoc. Back to B1

2. He said it was decent compared with what they had just seen, though in other circumstances he would have been ashamed to offer it. Back to B1

Decoration /ˌdɛkəˈreɪʃən/ (7)

Português: decoração; enfeite

Simple English: Adding design and beauty to something for visual appeal.

Example: We chose colorful decoration for the party to make it festive.

Uses in this book:

1. The furniture and decorations were as simple and pure as the people who lived there. Back to B1

2. The walls were covered with showy decorations, and everything showed the poor taste and bad values of the present owner. Back to B1

defeat /dɪˈfiːt/ (11)

Português: derrota; derrotar; vencer

Simple English: To win against someone in a war, game, or contest.

Example: Our team managed to defeat the rivals in the championship match last week.

Uses in this book:

1. He was sure the line before him was made up of smugglers who had been carrying banned goods over the Pyrenees and had been met and defeated by troops. Back to B1

defend /dɪˈfɛnd/ (18)

Português: defender; defesa

Simple English: To prevent harm or protect someone or something from danger.

Example: The knights were ready to defend the castle from the invading army.

Uses in this book:

1. You see, then, that I want to protect you from the danger of too much feeling, but I do not defend coldness. Back to B1

delighted /dɪˈlaɪtɪd/ (3)

Português: encantado; deleitado; deliciar

Simple English: Experiencing great joy or pleasure from something positive.

Example: I was delighted to receive an award for my hard work and dedication.

Uses in this book:

1. She felt surprised, then delighted, then scared because she remembered the written lines she saw before. Back to B1

desert /dɪˈzɜːrt/ (5)

Português: deserto; desertar; sobremesa

Simple English: A dry area with little rain.

Example: The Sahara is a desert.

Uses in this book:

1. She often stopped to look at the sad, deserted place. Back to B1

desperate /ˈdɛspərət/ (9)

Português: desesperado

Simple English: Being in a dangerous situation and acting without care.

Example: In a desperate attempt, he jumped into the water to save her.

Uses in this book:

1. He had guns with him, but they would be poor protection against such desperate robbers. Back to B1

dismiss /dɪsˈmɪs/ (5)

Português: demitir; dispensar; descartar

Simple English: To remove someone from their job or position.

Example: The company decided to dismiss the employee due to poor performance.

Uses in this book:

1. St. Aubert also tried to cut down the cost of the journey, and at last he decided to dismiss his servants. Back to B1

Dozen /ˈdʌzən/ (2)

Português: dúzia; dezenas; doze

Simple English: A group of twelve items or units together.

Example: I bought a dozen eggs for the cake I am baking.

Uses in this book:

1. It is so old that they tell me its hollow trunk can hold a dozen men. Back to B1

elsewhere /ˈɛlsweər/ (4)

Português: noutro lugar; alhures

Simple English: At, in, or to another place, not here.

Example: I decided to look for a job elsewhere, outside my city.

Uses in this book:

1. The abbess gave her many kind words and asked her to come back if she was unhappy elsewhere. Back to B1

emotional /ɪˈmoʊʃənəl/ (8)

Português: emocional; emotivo; sentimental

Simple English: Showing strong feelings; easily affected by emotions.

Example: She was emotional during the farewell party and cried quite a bit.

Uses in this book:

1. St. Aubert saw this and told her not to be emotional. Back to B1

enthusiasm /ɪnˈθjuːziæzəm/ (3)

Português: entusiasmo

Simple English: A feeling of great excitement, passion, or eagerness toward something.

Example: Her enthusiasm for the project inspired everyone on the team to work harder.

Uses in this book:

1. The gloom of the woods, the leaves trembling now and then in the breeze, the bat flitting in the twilight, and the cottage-lights now seen and now lost - all these stirred her mind into effort and led her to enthusiasm and poetry. Back to B1

entirely /ɪnˈtaɪərli/ (2)

Português: inteiramente; totalmente; completamente

Simple English: Completely; to the fullest degree possible.

Example: She was entirely focused on finishing her project before the deadline.

Uses in this book:

1. I trusted him greatly, and I still want to believe he is not entirely unworthy of my respect. Back to B1

extreme /ɪkˈstriːm/ (3)

Português: extrema; radicais; exagerado

Simple English: Very high in intensity or degree of conditions.

Example: We experienced extreme temperatures this summer, leading to heat advisories everywhere.

Uses in this book:

1. When the service ended and extreme unction had been given, the friar left. Back to B1

Faith /feɪθ/ (6)

Português: fé; farias; confiança

Simple English: Strong belief in a god, religion, or spiritual principle.

Example: Her faith helped her through many difficult times in her life.

Uses in this book:

1. The future is hidden from us, and faith and hope are our only guides. Back to B1

2. She should rather be glad that he would not suffer that, and that he could die with a clear mind, strengthened by faith and resignation. Back to B1

3. But his calm manner, and the faith and hope he showed, eased her pain a little. Back to B1

finding /ˈfaɪndɪŋ/ (11)

Português: encontrar; achando; achar

Simple English: A piece of information discovered from research.

Example: The key finding of the study suggests that diet greatly affects mental health.

Uses in this book:

1. "So we will go back to the road, because there is little chance of finding what we are looking for here." Back to B1

2. But where could she turn without finding something else to deepen her sorrow? Back to B1

float /floʊt/ (10)

Português: flutuar; flutuador; bóia

Simple English: To move slowly on water or in the air.

Example: The boat began to float gently on the calm lake.

Uses in this book:

1. Often Emily’s voice, too, gave sweetness to the waves as it floated over them. Back to B1

2. I enjoy this quiet hour and the music that floats nicely in the distance. Back to B1

former /ˈfɔːrmər/ (10)

Português: antigo; ex; anterior

Simple English: Referring to the first of two mentioned people or things.

Example: The former president gave a speech at the ceremony yesterday.

Uses in this book:

1. 'I will not hide from you how deeply your heart must suffer when you return to the place of your former happiness. Back to B1

2. Her heart no longer leapt with happy hope at a familiar smile, and she feared the things inside that would bring back full memories of her former happiness. Back to B1

grant /ɡrænt/ (5)

Português: Grant; conceder; concessão

Simple English: Money given by government organization for a purpose.

Example: She received a grant to study abroad for a year.

Uses in this book:

1. He greeted them politely, though he did not stand up, and after asking a few questions, he granted their request. Back to B1

harmful /ˈhɑːrmfəl/ (3)

Português: prejudicial; nocivos; danosas

Simple English: Causing damage or negative effects to others or the environment.

Example: Smoking is harmful to your health and can lead to severe diseases.

Uses in this book:

1. Those softer colors that shy away from careless eyes, and fade away in the world’s busy and harmful company. Back to B1

household /ˈhaʊshoʊld/ (4)

Português: agregado familiar; domésticos; uso doméstico

Simple English: All people living together considered a social unit.

Example: In our household, we all share chores to keep things tidy.

Uses in this book:

1. "It held our father's household," said St. Aubert sadly, "and that was not a small one." Back to B1

impressed /ɪmˈprɛst/ (3)

Português: impressionado; impressionou

Simple English: Admiring or respecting someone for excellent achievements or qualities.

Example: I was impressed by his ability to solve complex problems so quickly and easily.

Uses in this book:

1. St. Aubert listened politely, and Quesnel thought he was impressed. Back to B1

2. St. Aubert was so impressed that he decided to go farther into the mountains if he could find a road. Back to B1

impression /ɪmˈprɛʃən/ (1)

Português: impressão; imitação

Simple English: An opinion formed about someone or something.

Example: She made a great impression during her job interview.

Uses in this book:

1. Her father's situation and her own made her feel every impression. Back to B1

income /ˈɪnkʌm/ (7)

Português: renda; rendimento; receitas

Simple English: Money received regularly from work or investments.

Example: Her monthly income allowed her to save money for a vacation.

Uses in this book:

1. They walked toward the mountains, planning to visit some old pensioners whom St. Aubert supported from his small income. Back to B1

2. You know my income was never large, and now it will be very small. Back to B1

3. We will keep only one servant, and you will hardly notice the change in your income. Back to B1

inform /ɪnˈfɔːrm/ (3)

Português: informar; avisar; comunicar

Simple English: To give information about someone or something officially.

Example: The manager will inform the staff about the new policies tomorrow.

Uses in this book:

1. He often said, “A well-informed mind is the best protection against foolishness and vice. Back to B1

judgement (1)

Português: julgamento; juízo; avaliação

Simple English: the ability to make decisions or an opinion

Example: Her judgement was correct.

Uses in this book:

1. St. Aubert feared that stopping the driver suddenly would be even more dangerous, so he had to sit still and trust the mules, whose judgement seemed better than their master's. Back to B1

load /loʊd/ (3)

Português: carga; carregar; carregamento

Simple English: To fill a space with items in an efficient way.

Example: They need to load the boxes onto the truck for delivery today.

Uses in this book:

1. He was also troubled by seeing a long line of men, horses, and loaded mules coming down the opposite mountain, again and again hidden and shown by the woods, so that no one could tell how many there were. Back to B1

mass /mæs/ (4)

Português: massa; missa; maciça

Simple English: Affecting a large number of people or things together.

Example: The mass protest gathered thousands of people in the city center.

Uses in this book:

1. Above those cliffs rose others, huge and strangely shaped, some like cones and others leaning far over their base in great masses of granite. Back to B1

melt /mɛlt/ (3)

Português: derreter; derretimento; degelo

Simple English: To turn from solid into liquid because of heat exposure.

Example: The ice will melt quickly when exposed to the warm sun.

Uses in this book:

1. There they saw huge glaciers and snow that never melted on the mountain tops. Back to B1

military /ˈmɪlɪˌtɛri/ (7)

Português: militar; exército; armadas

Simple English: Armed forces of a nation responsible for defense and war.

Example: The military protects our country from external threats every day.

Uses in this book:

1. Something bright, like weapons, flashed in the sunset, and the men in front, and others among the group behind, wore military dress. Back to B1

mysterious /mɪˈstɪriəs/ (22)

Português: misterioso

Simple English: Having puzzling qualities suggesting hidden motives or secrets.

Example: The old house had a mysterious aura that intrigued the children.

Uses in this book:

1. She gave his words a mysterious meaning. Back to B1

2. She remembered what he said about the planet and the mysterious music. Back to B1

neat /niːt/ (5)

Português: arrumado; puro; pura

Simple English: Well-organized and tidy in appearance or arrangement.

Example: She keeps her office neat, with everything in its proper place.

Uses in this book:

1. They found simple but neat rooms, and they might have enjoyed a happy evening after the day's hard travel and pleasure, if the coming separation had not made them sad. Back to B1

2. At last the carriage stopped at a neat cottage. Back to B1

3. There they found a neat breakfast ready, while the host and his daughter stood waiting to greet them in the morning. Back to B1

nerve /nɜːrv/ (3)

Português: nervo; coragem; descaramento

Simple English: Long thread-like structure transmitting messages between brain, body.

Example: The nerve sends signals from the hand to the brain quickly.

Uses in this book:

1. Now his doctor told him to travel, because sorrow had affected his nerves, already weakened by illness. Back to B1

offend /əˈfɛnd/ (10)

Português: ofender

Simple English: To cause someone to feel disrespected or upset.

Example: His comment might offend people who take the issue seriously.

Uses in this book:

1. This greatly offended the muleteer. Back to B1

organ /ˈɔːrɡən/ (3)

Português: órgão

Simple English: A vital body part with a specific biological function.

Example: The heart is an organ that pumps blood throughout the body.

Uses in this book:

1. The solemn hymn and the organ moved all who heard them, and Emily's weak steps and calm face drew tears from many eyes. Back to B1

2. The voices, with the low sound of the organ, had once filled her with dark and moving thoughts. Back to B1

pace /peɪs/ (3)

Português: ritmo; passo; palma

Simple English: The speed at which someone moves or runs.

Example: She maintained a steady pace during the long marathon run.

Uses in this book:

1. The stranger politely refused and said he would keep pace with the mules. Back to B1

2. St. Aubert told him to go on as fast as possible, but Michael or the mules would not quicken their pace. Back to B1

panel /ˈpænəl/ (5)

Português: painel

Simple English: Group of experts gathered to discuss or advise on issues.

Example: A panel of experts discussed climate change solutions last night.

Uses in this book:

1. On one of these walks to that place, she noticed these lines written in pencil on part of the wall panels: Back to B1

Pile /paɪl/ (3)

Português: pilha; monte; empilhar

Simple English: A large amount or number of similar things together.

Example: There was a pile of leaves in the yard after the fall.

Uses in this book:

1. Rocks piled on rocks as if by magic, some scorched by lightning, others covered with green ivy. Back to B1

protection /prəˈtɛkʃən/ (15)

Português: proteção; defesa

Simple English: The act of keeping people or things safe from harm.

Example: Wearing a helmet is essential for your protection while cycling.

Uses in this book:

1. He often said, “A well-informed mind is the best protection against foolishness and vice. Back to B1

2. He had guns with him, but they would be poor protection against such desperate robbers. Back to B1

pure /pjʊər/ (12)

Português: puro; pura; puros

Simple English: Not combined or mixed with anything else; clean or unmixed.

Example: She prefers pure water without any additives or flavors in it.

Uses in this book:

1. The furniture and decorations were as simple and pure as the people who lived there. Back to B1

2. But his deep, pure devotion slowly lifted his thoughts above this world and gave comfort to his heart. Back to B1

3. They awaken our best and purest feelings and make us more kind, gentle, and friendly. Back to B1

4. She felt a pure devotion above all human beliefs, a devotion that lifts the soul above this world and seems to give it a nobler nature. Back to B1

5. Their thoughts were simple and grand, like the landscapes around them, and they knew no happiness except the joining of pure and loving hearts. Back to B1

relief /rɪˈliːf/ (8)

Português: alívio; relevo; socorro

Simple English: Comfort after something upsetting or worrying finishes or improves.

Example: The relief I felt when the exam was over was incredible.

Uses in this book:

1. An empty mind is always looking for relief, and is ready to make mistakes just to escape boredom. Back to B1

rhythm /ˈrɪðəm/ (1)

Português: ritmo

Simple English: A pattern of sounds creating timing in music.

Example: The dancer moved to the rhythm of the upbeat music perfectly.

Uses in this book:

1. The lines move in a light, dancing rhythm, which I thought suited the subject, but I fear they are too uneven.' Back to B1

root /ruːt/ (6)

Português: raiz; radicular; torcer

Simple English: The part of a plant that grows underground to get nutrients.

Example: The root of the plant spreads deep into the soil for stability.

Uses in this book:

1. Rowans and weeping birches also spread their hanging leaves over the slopes above, where the thin soil barely covered their roots and their light branches moved in every mountain breeze. Back to B1

2. The ground was uneven, and old tree roots rose out of the soil, so they had to go carefully. Back to B1

saving /ˈseɪvɪŋ/ (4)

Português: salvar; poupança; economia

Simple English: Money set aside and not spent.

Example: I started saving money for a vacation to the beach next year.

Uses in this book:

1. For a moment he stood there, unwilling to lose the joy of saving a family from ruin, yet worried about the rest of his trip. Back to B1

seek /siːk/ (5)

Português: procurar; buscar; busco

Simple English: To attempt to find or obtain a particular object or information.

Example: They will seek help from experts to solve the complicated problem.

Uses in this book:

1. In the city, they make constant pleasure-seeking less necessary, and therefore less tempting.” Back to B1

2. So how can we expect love in big cities, where selfishness, pleasure-seeking, and falsehood take the place of tenderness, simplicity, and truth?” Back to B1

sensitive /ˈsɛnsɪtɪv/ (10)

Português: sensível; confidenciais; minúsculas

Simple English: Aware of others' feelings and responsive with care emotionally.

Example: She is sensitive to how her friends feel during difficult times.

Uses in this book:

1. She was very sensitive and kind, but too delicate to be always peaceful. Back to B1

2. A heart that is too sensitive can cause problems, but a heart that feels nothing is all bad. Back to B1

3. Do not be proud of being sensitive. Back to B1

shelter /ˈʃɛltər/ (21)

Português: abrigo; refúgio

Simple English: A place providing food and housing to very poor people.

Example: The local shelter offers meals and beds for homeless individuals each night.

Uses in this book:

1. Think of all that the mountain shelters in its bosom, and all the dread magnificence of heaven. Back to B1

2. He ended his long speech by saying that they should share his shelter wherever he went. Back to B1

3. Your good looks might spoil our plan, but when they see my face and Emily's tired looks, they will hardly refuse us shelter.' Back to B1

sincere /sɪnˈsɪər/ (11)

Português: sincero

Simple English: Genuine honest and expressing true feelings or beliefs openly.

Example: His sincere apology made her feel much better after the argument.

Uses in this book:

1. Valancourt made many objections to this delay, though he did not seem fully sincere. Back to B1

2. Emily left the convent in tears, with sincere wishes for her happiness. Back to B1

slave (3)

Português: escravo; cativo; pessoa escravizada

Simple English: a person forced to work without freedom

Example: The law ended the sale of slaves.

Uses in this book:

1. If I had the purple flower that can break her spells, I would no longer be her slave. Back to B1

2. So we become slaves to our emotions unless we learn to control them somewhat. Back to B1

slide (2)

Português: deslizar; escorregar; slide

Simple English: to move smoothly over a surface

Example: The glass began to slide off the table.

Uses in this book:

1. The closet beside my room at La Vallee has a sliding board in the floor. Back to B1

2. The end will sink, and you can slide it easily under the other board. Back to B1

slight /slaɪt/ (1)

Português: ligeira; leve; pequena

Simple English: Small in amount, degree, or extent; not significant.

Example: There was a slight chance of rain during our picnic last weekend.

Uses in this book:

1. Then she was seized by a slight convulsion and fell senseless in her chair. Back to B1

somewhat /ˈsʌmwʌt/ (11)

Português: algo; ligeiramente

Simple English: To a limited extent; moderately so.

Example: I am somewhat tired after all the work we did today.

Uses in this book:

1. Emily was somewhat surprised to hear him talk of being tempted to stay abroad. Back to B1

2. The west still glowed a little, and that helped them somewhat. Back to B1

3. So we become slaves to our emotions unless we learn to control them somewhat. Back to B1

4. After sending her answer, she felt somewhat calmer. Back to B1

speed (2)

Português: velocidade; ritmo; rapidez

Simple English: the rate at which something moves

Example: The car reduced speed near the school.

Uses in this book:

1. After his prayer, he cracked his whip and drove on at full speed, despite the rough road and the pain of his poor mules, which he had just been pitying. Back to B1

2. He lay back in the carriage, and Michael cracked his whip and went on at full speed until St. Aubert, nearly fainting, told him to stop. Back to B1

split /splɪt/ (2)

Português: dividir; divisão; rachar

Simple English: To divide into parts or separate sections or groups.

Example: We need to split the group into smaller teams for the project.

Uses in this book:

1. St. Aubert was sad when they reached the place where the roads split. Back to B1

Stable /ˈsteɪbəl/ (5)

Português: estável; estábulo; estabilidade

Simple English: Farm building designed to house horses or livestock.

Example: The horses live in a stable near the big red barn.

Uses in this book:

1. “Next summer I want to bring my friends the Duke de Durefort and the Marquis Ramont to stay with me for a month or two.” When St. Aubert asked about the improvements, Quesnel said he would tear down the east wing and build stables there. Back to B1

2. Once they had kicked a sleeping boy in the stable and broken his leg. Back to B1

steady /ˈstɛdi/ (11)

Português: constante; firme; estável

Simple English: Not changing significantly over time.

Example: She maintained a steady pace while running during the marathon event.

Uses in this book:

1. You cannot stop my steady feet from walking in the woods and fields beside the living stream in the evening. Back to B1

2. It is calm and steady, and it cannot live in a heart that is always moved by every small event, any more than in a heart that feels nothing. Back to B1

stretch /strɛtʃ/ (25)

Português: esticar; estiramento; trecho

Simple English: To extend body or body parts to full length.

Example: Before running, it is important to stretch your muscles properly.

Uses in this book:

1. Under the bridge, they could see the valley stretching away, with a waterfall among the rocks and a cottage on a cliff under pine trees. Back to B1

2. The granite rocks rose sharply and stretched their bare tops to the clouds. Back to B1

3. Beyond that, woods, fields, and towns and villages stretched toward the sea. Back to B1

4. In the evening, he made an effort to walk with Emily and look at the country around them, which overlooked the lake of Leucate, the Mediterranean, part of Rousillon, the Pyrenees, and a wide stretch of rich Languedoc, now red with ripe grapes that the peasants were beginning to gather. Back to B1

5. The Pyrenees still rose behind them in a grand view, while the ocean lay on their right and wide plains stretched on their left until they faded into the blue distance. Back to B1

strict /strɪkt/ (11)

Português: estrita; rigoroso; rígidas

Simple English: Absolute rules that must always be obeyed.

Example: The school has strict rules about student behavior during classes.

Uses in this book:

1. St. Aubert said that if it had been right for him to explain, he would not have asked for such a strict promise. Back to B1

struggle /ˈstrʌɡəl/ (21)

Português: luta; lutar; esforço

Simple English: A great effort to fight back or break free.

Example: He had to struggle against the strong current to swim back to the shore.

Uses in this book:

1. This was hard for him too, because he had to watch her struggle without showing his own feelings. Back to B1

2. After a hard struggle over brambles and rocks, he reached Michael and finally got him to stop and listen. Back to B1

3. After struggling for a short time, he asked to be helped upstairs to bed. Back to B1

4. He slowly sank into death and died without a struggle or a sigh. Back to B1

surround /səˈraʊnd/ (17)

Português: surround; cercam; rodeiam

Simple English: To be all around something or someone on every side.

Example: The garden is surrounded by a tall stone wall for privacy.

Uses in this book:

1. A high wall surrounded it, and they came to an old gate and knocked. Back to B1

2. It was evening when they came down from the lower Alps that surround Rousillon. Back to B1

3. There, between the tree trunks, she saw a small round space of green grass, surrounded by woods, with a group of figures on it. Back to B1

4. It stood in a small bay of the Mediterranean, surrounded by trees. Back to B1

title /ˈtaɪtəl/ (2)

Português: título; denominação

Simple English: Name given to a book, movie, or other work.

Example: The title of the book was intriguing and made me curious to read it.

Uses in this book:

1. “I have forgotten his title, monsieur,” said La Voisin, “but my lord lives mostly in Paris. Back to B1

unconscious /ʌnˈkɒnʃəs/ (4)

Português: inconsciente; desmaiado; subconsciente

Simple English: Unresponsive and unaware of surroundings, usually from an injury.

Example: He was unconscious after the fall and required immediate medical attention.

Uses in this book:

1. He lay unconscious. Back to B1

unexpected (5)

Português: inesperado; surpreendente; imprevisto

Simple English: not expected

Example: The meeting had an unexpected result.

Uses in this book:

1. 'And I have made you a very unexpected return for the compliment,' said St. Aubert. Back to B1

vast /væst/ (4)

Português: vasta; vasto; grande

Simple English: Extremely large in size, area, or extent.

Example: The ocean covers a vast area of the Earth's surface.

Uses in this book:

1. Wherever she looked, whether at the sleeping earth or the vast space filled with worlds beyond human thought, she felt God’s greatness and presence. Back to B1

volume /ˈvɒljuːm/ (6)

Português: volume; Fascículo

Simple English: The level of loudness in audio produced by a device.

Example: He turned up the volume to enjoy the music at its best.

Uses in this book:

1. Instead, she saw a volume of Petrarch's poems that had belonged to Valancourt. Back to B1

weakness /ˈwiːknəs/ (17)

Português: fraqueza; debilidade; ponto fraco

Simple English: Lack of ability, power, or effectiveness; flaw present.

Example: Understanding your weakness can help you improve in your personal and professional life.

Uses in this book:

1. The weakness and sadness that had troubled her recently returned even stronger the next day. Back to B1

2. He felt his weakness and tiredness return after a day that had worn out both his body and mind, and he longed for rest. Back to B1

3. If he had lived, he would soon have faced old age, weakness, loss, and sorrow, and then death would still have come. Back to B1

4. So the day passed quietly, with no special event, in sadness and weakness. Back to B1

wherever (10)

Português: onde quer que; em qualquer lugar; onde quer

Simple English: in any place or to any place

Example: Sit wherever you like.

Uses in this book:

1. They carried food in the carriage, so they could rest and eat outdoors in a pleasant place and sleep wherever they found a comfortable cottage. Back to B1

2. He said his beasts were as honest and as good as any in the province and had a right to good treatment wherever they went. Back to B1

3. He ended his long speech by saying that they should share his shelter wherever he went. Back to B1

4. Wherever she looked, whether at the sleeping earth or the vast space filled with worlds beyond human thought, she felt God’s greatness and presence. Back to B1

wrap /ræp/ (5)

Português: envoltório; embrulhar; enrole

Simple English: To cover an object in paper, fabric, or material.

Example: I will wrap the gift carefully before the party starts.

Uses in this book:

1. In such places she often lingered, wrapped in a melancholy charm, until the last gleam of day faded in the west. Back to B1

2. He said her sons could use the bed of skins meant for him, and he would wrap himself in his cloak and sleep on the bench by the cottage door. Back to B1