第26部分 (第1/7頁)
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The third showed the pinnacle of an iceberg piercing a polar winter sky: a muster of northern lights reared their dim lances; close serried; along the horizon。 Throwing these into distance; rose; in the foreground; a head;—a colossal head; inclined towards the iceberg; and resting against it。 Two thin hands; joined under the forehead; and supporting it; drew up before the lower features a sable veil; a brow quite bloodless; white as bone; and an eye hollow and fixed; blank of meaning but for the glassiness of despair; alone were visible。 Above the temples; amidst wreathed turban folds of black drapery; vague in its character and consistency as cloud; gleamed a ring of white flame; gemmed with sparkles of a more lurid tinge。 This pale crescent was “the likeness of a kingly crown;” what it diademed was “the shape which shape had none。”
“Were you happy when you painted these pictures?” asked Mr。 Rochester presently。
“I was absorbed; sir: yes; and I was happy。 To paint them; in short; was to enjoy one of the keenest pleasures I have ever known。”
“That is not saying much。 Your pleasures; by your own account; have been few; but I daresay you did exist in a kind of artist’s dreamland while you blent and arranged these strange tints。 Did you sit at them long each day?”
“I had nothing else to do; because it was the vacation; and I sat at them from morning till noon; and from noon till night: the length of the midsummer days favoured my inclination to apply。”
“And you felt self…satisfied with the result of your ardent labours?”
“Far from it。 I was tormented by the contrast between my idea and my handiwork: in each case I had imagined something which I was quite powerless to realise。”
“Not quite: you have secured the shadow of y
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