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'No need to go to any great trouble for me,' she protested, when I had seated her in Wolf Larsen's armchair, which I had dragged hastily from his cabin. 'The men were looking for land at any moment this morning, and the vessel should be in by night, don't you think so?' ¡¡¡¡Her simple faith in the immediate future took me aback. How could I explain to her the situation, the strange man who stalked the sea like Destiny, all that it had taken me months to learn? But I answered honestly: ¡¡¡¡'If it were any other captain except ours, I should say you would be ashore in Yokohama tomorrow. But our captain is a strange man, and I beg of you to be prepared for anything- understand?- for anything.' ¡¡¡¡'I- I confess I hardly do understand,' she hesitated, a perturbed but not frightened expression in her eyes. 'Or is it a misconception of mine that shipwrecked people are always shown every consideration? This is such a little thing, you know, we are so close to land.'

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¡¡¡¡'Will you take the lady below and see to her comfort? Make up that spare port cabin. Put Cooky to work on it. And see what you can do for that face. It's burned badly.' ¡¡¡¡He turned brusquely away from us and began to question the new men. The boat was cast adrift, though one of them called it a 'bloody shame,' with Yokohama so near. ¡¡¡¡I found myself strangely afraid of this woman I was escorting aft. Also, I was awkward. It seemed to me that I was realizing for the first time what a delicate, fragile creature a woman is, and as I caught her arm to help her down the companion-stairs, I was startled by its smallness and softness. Indeed, she was a slender, delicate woman, as women go, but to me she was so ethereally slender and delicate that I was quite prepared for her arm to crumble in my grasp. All this in frankness, to show my first impression, after long deprivation, of women in general and of Maud Brewster in particular.

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'Candidly, I do not know,' I strove to reassure her. 'I wished merely to prepare you for the worst, if the worst is to come. This man, this captain, is a brute, a demon, and one can never tell what will be his next fantastic act.' ¡¡¡¡I was growing excited, but she interrupted me with an 'Oh, I see,' and her voice sounded weary. To think was patently an effort. She was clearly on the verge of physical collapse. ¡¡¡¡She asked no further questions, and I vouchsafed no remarks, devoting myself to Wolf Larsen's command, which was to make her comfortable. I bustled about in quite housewifely fashion, procuring soothing lotions for her sunburn, raiding Wolf Larsen's private stores for a bottle of port I knew to be there, and directing Thomas Mugridge in the preparation of the spare state-room.

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rapidly, the Ghost heeling over more and more, and by the time the state-room was ready she was dashing through the water at a lively clip. I had quite forgotten the existence of Leach and Johnson, when suddenly, like a thunder-clap, 'Boat ho!' came down the open companionway. It was Smoke's unmistakable voice, crying from the masthead. I shot a glance at the woman, but she was leaning back in the armchair, her eyes closed, unutterably tired. I doubted that she had heard, and I resolved to prevent her seeing the brutality I knew would follow the capture of the deserters. She was tired. Very good. She should sleep. ¡¡¡¡There were swift commands on deck, a stamping of feet and a slapping of reefpoints, as the Ghost shot into the wind and about on the other tack. As she filled away and heeled, the armchair began to slide across the cabin floor, and I sprang for it just in time to prevent the rescued woman from being spilled o

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of the sleepy surprise that perplexed her as she looked up at me, and she half stumbled, half tottered as I led her to her cabin. Mugridge grinned insinuatingly in my face as I shoved him out and ordered him back to his galley work, and he won his revenge by spreading glowing reports among the hunters as to what an excellent 'Lydy's-myde' I was proving myself to be. ¡¡¡¡She leaned heavily against me, and I do believe that she had fallen asleep again between the armchair and the state-room. This I discovered when she nearly fell into the bunk during a sudden lurch of the schooner. She aroused, smiled drowsily, and was off to sleep again; and asleep I left her, under a heavy pair of sailor's blankets, her head resting on a pillow I had appropriated from Wolf Larsen's bunk.

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¡¡¡¡The spar could not have missed me by many inches, while it spurred me to action. Perhaps the situation was not hopeless. I remembered Wolf Larsen's caution. He had expected 'all hell to break loose,' and here it was. And where was he? I caught sight of him toiling at the mainsheet, heaving it in and flat with his tremendous muscles, the stern of the schooner lifted high in the air, and his body outlined against a white surge of sea sweeping past. All this and more- a whole world of chaos and wreck- in possibly fifteen seconds I had seen and heard and grasped. ¡¡¡¡I did not stop to see what had become of the small boat, but sprang to the jibsheet. The jib itself was beginning to slap, partly filling and emptying with sharp reports; but with a turn of the sheet, and the application of my whole strength each time it slapped, I slowly backed it. This I know: I did my best. Either the downh

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else the pins carried away, for, while I pulled till I burst open the ends of all my fingers, the flying jib and staysail filled and fluttered with the wind, split their cloths apart, and thundered into nothingness. ¡¡¡¡Still I pulled, holding what I gained each time with a double turn until the next slap gave me more. Then the sheet gave with greater ease, and Wolf Larsen was beside me, heaving in alone while I was busied taking up the slack. ¡¡¡¡'Make fast,' he shouted, 'and come on!' ¡¡¡¡As I followed him, I noted that, in spite of wrack and ruin, a rough order obtained. The Ghost was hove to. She was still in working order, and she was still working. Though the rest of her sails were gone, the jib, backed to windward, and the mainsail, hauled down flat, were themselves holding, and holding her bow to the furious sea as well. ¡¡¡¡I looked for the boat, and, while Wolf Larsen cleared the boat-tackles, saw it lift to leeward on a big sea and not a score of feet away. And, so nicely had he made his calculation, we drifted fairly down upon it, so that nothing remained to do but hook the tackles to each end and hoist it aboard. But this was not done so easily as it is written.

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¡¡¡¡In the bow was Kerfoot, Oofty-Oofty in the stern, and Kelly amidships. As we drifted closer, the boat would rise on a wave while we sank in the trough, till, almost straight above me, I could see the heads of the three men craned overside and looking down. Then, the next moment, we would lift and soar upward while they sank far down beneath us. It seemed incredible that the next surge should not crush the Ghost down upon the tiny eggshell. ¡¡¡¡But, at the right moment, I passed the tackle to the Kanaka, while Wolf Larsen did the same thing forward to Kerfoot. Both tackles were hooked in a trice, and the three men, deftly timing the roll, made a simultaneous leap aboard the schooner. As the Ghost rolled her side out of water, the boat was lifted snugly against her, and before the return roll came we had heaved it in over the side and turned it bottom up on the deck. I noticed blood spouting from Kerfoot's left hand. In some way the third finger had been crushed to a pulp. But he gave no sign of pain, and with his single right hand helped us lash the boat in its place.

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'Stand by to let that jib over, you Oofty,' Wolf Larsen commanded, the very second we had finished with the boat. 'Kelly, come aft and slack off the mainsheet. You, Kerfoot, go for'ard and see what's become of Cooky. Mr. Van Weyden, run aloft again, and cut away any stray stuff in your way.' ¡¡¡¡And having commanded, he went aft, with his peculiar tigerish leaps, to the wheel. While I toiled up the fore-shrouds the Ghost slowly paid off. This time, as we went into the trough of the sea and were swept, there were no sails to carry away. And halfway to the crosstrees, and flattened against the rigging by the full force of the wind, so that it would have been impossible for me to have fallen, with the Ghost almost on her beam-ends, and the masts parallel with the water, I looked, not down, but at right angles from the perpendicular, to the deck of the Ghost. But I saw not the deck, but where the deck should have been, for it was buried beneath a wild tumbling of water. Out of this water I could see the two masts rising, and that was all. The Ghost, for the moment, was buried beneath the sea. As she squared off more and more, escaping from the side pressure, she righted herself and broke her deck, like a whale's back, through the ocean surface.

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Then we raced, and wildly, across the wild sea, the while I hung like a fly in the crosstrees and searched for the other boats. In half an hour I sighted the second one, swamped and bottom up, to which were desperately clinging Jock Horner, fat Louis, and Johnson. This time I remained aloft, and Wolf Larsen succeeded in heaving to without being swept. As before, we drifted down upon the boat. Tackles were made fast and lines flung to the men, who scrambled aboard like monkeys. The boat itself was crushed and splintered against the schooner's side as it came inboard; but the wreck was securely lashed, for it could be patched and made whole again. ¡¡¡¡Once more the Ghost bore away before the storm, this time so submerging herself that for some seconds I thought she would never reappear. Even the wheel, quite a deal higher than the waist, was covered and swept again and again. At such moments I felt strangely alone with God, and watching the chaos of his wrath. And

A Greek Beauty

Your hand is clutching my arm; lightly it feels as a butterfly resting there. Your chest is heaving, your tongue protruding, your skin turning dark, your eyes swimming. "To live! To live! To live!" you are crying; and you are crying to live here and now, not hereafter. You doubt your immortality, eh? Ha! ha! You are not sure of it. You won't chance it. This life only you are certain is real. Ah, it is growing dark and darker. It is the darkness of death, the ceasing to be, the ceasing to feel, the ceasing to move, that is gathering about you, descending upon you, rising around you. Your eyes are becoming set. They are glazing. My voice sounds faint and far. You cannot see my face. And still you struggle in my grip. You kick with your legs. Your body draws itself up in knots like a snake's. Your chest heaves and strains. To live! To live! To live- ' ¡¡¡¡I heard no more. Consciousness was blotted out by the darkness he had so graphically described, and when I came to myself I was lying on the floor, and he was smoking a cigar and regarding me thoughtfully with that old, familiar light of curiosity in his eyes. ¡¡¡¡'Well, have I convinced you?' he demanded. 'Here, take a drink of this. I want to ask you some questions.'

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I rolled my head negatively on the floor. 'Your arguments are too- er- forcible,' I managed to articulate, at cost of great pain to my aching throat. ¡¡¡¡'You'll be all right in half an hour,' he assured me. 'And I promise I won't use any more physical demonstrations. Get up now. You can sit on a chair.' ¡¡¡¡And, toy that I was of this CHAPTER TWELVE. ¡¡¡¡THE LAST TWENTY-FOUR HOURS have witnessed a carnival of brutality. From cabin to forecastle it seems to have broken out like a contagion. I scarcely know where to begin. Wolf Larsen was really the cause of it. The relations among the men, strained and made tense by feuds, quarrels, and grudges, were in a state of unstable equilibrium. Wolf Larsen disturbed the equilibrium, and evil passions flared up like flame in prairie-grass. ¡¡¡¡Thomas Mugridge was proving himself a sneak, a spy, an informer. He attempted to curry favor and reinstate himself in the good graces of the captain by carrying tales of the men forward. He it was, I know, that carried some of Johnson's hasty talk to Wolf Larsen. Johnson, it seems, had bought a suit of oilskins from the slop-

Dance Me to the End of Love

chest and found them to be of greatly inferior quality. Nor was he slow in advertising the fact. The slop-chest is a sort of miniature dry-goods store which is carried by all sealing-schooners and which is stocked with articles peculiar to the needs of the sailors. Whatever a sailor purchases is taken from his subsequent earnings on the sealing-grounds; for, as it is with the hunters, so it is with the boat-pullers and steerers: in the place of wages, they receive a 'lay,' a rate of so much per skin for every skin captured in their particular boat. ¡¡¡¡But of Johnson's grumbling at the slop-chest I knew nothing, so that what I witnessed came with the shock of sudden surprise. I had just finished sweeping the cabin, and had been inveigled by Wolf Larsen into a discussion of Hamlet, his favorite Shakespearean character, when Johansen descended the companion-stairs, followed by Johnson. The latter's cap came off, after the custom of the sea, and he stood respectfully in the middle of the cabin, swaying heavily and uneasily to the roll of the schooner, and facing the captain.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

'Shut the doors and draw the slide,' Wolf Larsen said to me. ¡¡¡¡I noticed an anxious light in Johnson's eyes, but mistook it for the native shyness and embarrassment of the man. The mate, Johansen, stood away several feet to the side of him, and fully three yards in front of him sat Wolf Larsen on one of the revolving cabin chairs. An appreciable pause fell after I had closed the doors and drawn the slide- a pause that must have lasted fully a minute. It was broken by Wolf Larsen. ¡¡¡¡'Yonson,' he began. ¡¡¡¡'My name is Johnson, sir,' the sailor boldly corrected. ¡¡¡¡'Well, Johnson, then,- you! Can you guess why I have sent for you?' ¡¡¡¡'Yes, and no, sir,' was the slow reply. 'My work is done well. The mate knows that, and you know it, sir. So there cannot be any complaint.' ¡¡¡¡'And is that all?' Wolf Larsen queried, his voice soft and low and purring. ¡¡¡¡'I know you have it in for me,' Johnson continued with his unalterable and ponderous slowness. 'You do not like me. You- you-' ¡¡¡¡'Go on,' Wolf Larsen prompted. 'Don't be afraid of my feelings.'

Hylas and the Nymphs

am not afraid,' the sailor retorted, a slight angry flush rising through his sunburn. 'You do not like me because I am too much of a man, that is why, sir.' ¡¡¡¡'You are too much of a man for ship discipline, if that is what you mean, and if you know what I mean,' was Wolf Larsen's retort. ¡¡¡¡'I know English, and I know what you mean, sir,' Johnson answered, his flush deepening at the slur on his knowledge of the English language. ¡¡¡¡'Johnson,' Wolf Larsen said, with an air of dismissing all that had gone before as introductory to the main business in hand, 'I understand you're not quite satisfied with those oilskins.' ¡¡¡¡'No, I am not. They are no good, sir.' ¡¡¡¡'And you've been shooting off your mouth about them.' ¡¡¡¡'I say what I think, sir,' the sailor answered courageously, not failing at the same time in ship courtesy, which demanded that 'sir' be appended to each speech he made.

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¡¡¡¡MY INTIMACY WITH Wolf Larsen increased, if by intimacy may be denoted those relations which exist between master and man, or, better yet, between king and jester. I was to him no more than a toy, and he valued me no more than a child values a toy. My function was to amuse, and so long as I amused all went well; but let him become bored, or let him have one of his black moods come upon him, and at once I was relegated from cabin table to galley, while, at the same time, I was fortunate to escape with my life and a whole body. ¡¡¡¡The loneliness of the man was slowly being borne in upon me. There was not a man aboard but hated or feared him, nor was there a man whom he did not despise. He seemed consuming with the tremendous power that was in him and that seemed never to have found adequate expression in works. He was as Lucifer would be, were that proud spirit banished to a society of soulless, Tomlinsonian ghosts.

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This loneliness was bad enough in itself, but, to make it worse, he was oppressed by the primal melancholy of the race. Knowing him, I reviewed the old Scandinavian myths with clearer understanding. The white-skinned, fair-haired savages who created that terrible pantheon were of the same fiber as he. The frivolity of the laughter-loving Latins was no part of him. When he laughed it was from a humor that was nothing else than ferocious. But he laughed rarely; he was too often sad. And it was a sadness as deep-reaching as the roots of the race. It was the race heritage, the sadness which had made the race sober-minded, clean-lived, and fanatically moral. ¡¡¡¡In point of fact, the chief vent to this primal melancholy has been religion in its more agonizing forms. But the compensations of such religion were denied Wolf Larsen. His brutal materialism would not permit it. So, when his blue moods came on, nothing remained for him but to be devilish. Had he not been so terrible a man, I

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could sometimes have felt sorry for him, as, for instance, one morning when I went into his state-room to fill his water-bottle and came unexpectedly upon him. He did not see me. His head was buried in his hands, and his shoulders were heaving convulsively as with sobs. He seemed torn by some mighty grief. As I softly withdrew, I could hear him groaning, 'God! God! God!' Not that he was calling upon God; it was a mere expletive, but it came from his soul. ¡¡¡¡At dinner he asked the hunters for a remedy for headache, and by evening, strong man that he was, he was half blind, and reeling about the cabin. ¡¡¡¡'I've never been sick in my life, Hump,' he said, as I guided him to his room. 'Nor did I ever have a headache except the time my head was healing after having been laid open for six inches by a capstan-bar.' ¡¡¡¡For three days this blinding headache lasted, and he suffered as wild animals suffer, as it seemed the way on ship to suffer, without plaint, without sympathy, utterly alone.

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There was a ring of triumph in his voice, and his eyes, clear blue this morning as the sea, were sparkling with light. ¡¡¡¡'You must be well up in mathematics,' I said. 'Where did you go to school?' 'Never saw the inside of one, worse luck,' was the answer. 'I had to dig it out for myself. ¡¡¡¡'And why do you think I have made this thing?' he demanded abruptly. 'Dreaming to leave footprints on the sands of time?' He laughed one of his horrible mocking laughs. 'Not at all. To get it patented, to make money from it, to revel in piggishness, with all night in while other men do the work. That's my purpose. Also, I have enjoyed working it out.' ¡¡¡¡'The creative joy,' I murmured. ¡¡¡¡'I guess that's what it ought to be called. Which is another way of expressing the joy of life in that it is alive, the triumph of movement over matter, of the quick over the dead, the pride of the yeast because it is yeast and crawls.'

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¡¡¡¡This morning, however, on entering his state-room to make the bed and put things in order, I found him well and hard at work. Table and bunk were littered with designs and calculations. On a large transparent sheet, compass and square in hand, he was copying what appeared to be a scale of some sort or other. ¡¡¡¡'Hello, Hump!' he greeted me genially. 'I'm just finished the finishing touches. Want to see it work?' ¡¡¡¡'But what is it?' I asked. ¡¡¡¡'A labor-saving device for mariners, navigation reduced to kindergarten simplicity,' he answered gaily. 'From today a child will be able to navigate a ship. No more long-winded calculations. All you need is one star in the sky on dirty night to know instantly where you are. Look. I place the transparent scale on this star-map, revolving the scale on the North Pole. On the scale I've worked out the circles of altitude and the lines of bearing. All I do is put it on a star, revolve the scale till it is opposite those figures on the map underneath, and presto, there you are, the ship's precise location!'

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At this Larsen sprang from the sitting posture like a wild animal, a tiger, and like a tiger covered the intervening space in an avalanche of fury that Johnson strove vainly to fend off. He threw one arm down to protect the stomach, the other arm up to protect the head; but Wolf Larsen's fist drove midway between, on the chest, with a crushing, resounding impact. Johnson's breath, suddenly expelled, shot from his mouth, and as suddenly checked, with the forced, audible expiration of a man wielding an ax. He almost fell backward, and swayed from side to side in an effort to recover his balance. ¡¡¡¡Johnson fought bravely enough, but he was no match for Wolf Larsen, much less for Wolf Larsen and the mate. It was frightful. I had not imagined a human being could endure so much and still live and struggle on. And struggle on Johnson did. Of course there was no hope for him, not the slightest, and he knew it as well as I, but by the manhood that was in him he could not cease from fighting for that manhood.

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¡¡¡¡It was too much for me to witness. I felt that I should lose my mind, and I ran up the companion-stairs to open the doors and escape on deck. But Wolf Larsen, leaving his victim for the moment, and with one of his tremendous springs, gained my side, and flung me into the far corner of the cabin. ¡¡¡¡'The phenomenon of life, Hump,' he girded at me. 'Stay and watch it. You may gather data on the immortality of the soul. Besides, you know, we can't hurt Johnson's soul. It's only the fleeting form we may demolish.' ¡¡¡¡It seemed centuries, possibly it was no more than ten minutes, that the beating continued. And when Johnson could no longer rise, they still continued to beat and kick him where he lay. ¡¡¡¡'Easy, Johansen; easy as she goes,' Wolf Larsen finally said. ¡¡¡¡But the beast in the mate was up and rampant, and Wolf Larsen was compelled to brush him away with a back-handed sweep of the arm, gentle enough, apparently, but which hurled Johansen back like a cork, driving his head against the wall with a crash. He fell to the floor, half stunned for the moment, breathing heavily and blinking his eyes in a stupid sort of way.

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'Jerk open the doors, Hump,' Larsen commanded. ¡¡¡¡I obeyed, and the two brutes picked up the senseless man like a sack of rubbish and hove him clear up the companion-stairs, through the narrow doors, and out on deck. Louis, his boat-mate, gave a turn of the wheel and gazed imperturbably into the binnacle. ¡¡¡¡Not so George Leach, the erstwhile cabin-boy. Fore and aft there was nothing that could have surprised us more than his consequent behavior. He it was that came up on the poop, without orders, and dragged Johnson forward, where he set about dressing his wounds as well as he could and making him comfortable. ¡¡¡¡I had come up on deck for a breath of fresh air and to try to get some repose for my overwrought nerves. Wolf Larsen was smoking a cigar and examining the patent log which the Ghost usually towed astern, but which had been hauled in for some purpose. Suddenly Leach's voice came to my ears. It was tense and hoarse

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with an overmastering rage. I turned and saw him standing just beneath the break of the poop on the port side of the galley. His face was convulsed and white, his eyes were flashing, his clenched fists raised overhead, as the boy hurled his imprecations recklessly full in the face of the captain, who had sauntered slowly forward to the break of the poop, and leaning his elbow on the corner of the cabin, gazed down thoughtfully and curiously at the excited boy. ¡¡¡¡Leach went on, indicting Wolf Larsen as he had never been indicted before. The sailors assembled in a fearful group just outside the forecastle scuttle, and watched and listened. The hunters piled pell-mell out of the steerage, but as Leach's tirade continued I saw that there was no levity in their faces. Even they were frightened, not at the boy's terrible words, but at his terrible audacity. It did not seem possible that any living creature could thus beard Wolf Larsen to his teeth. I know for myself that I was shocked into admiration of the boy, and I saw in him the splendid invincibleness of immortality rising above the flesh and the fears of the flesh, as in the prophets of old, to condemn unrighteousness.

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And such condemnation! He haled forth Wolf Larsen's soul naked to the scorn of men. He rained upon it curses from God and high heaven, and withered it with a heat of invective that savored of a medieval excommunication of the Catholic Church. He ran the gamut of denunciation, rising to heights of wrath, and from sheer exhaustion sinking to the most indecent abuse. ¡¡¡¡Everybody looked for Larsen to leap upon the boy and destroy him. But it was not his whim. His cigar went out, and he continued to gaze silently and curiously. ¡¡¡¡Leach had worked himself into an ecstasy of impotent rage. ¡¡¡¡'Pig! Pig! Pig!' he was reiterating at the top of his lungs. 'Why don't you come down and kill me, you murderer? You can do it. I ain't afraid. There's no one to stop you! Come on, you coward! Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!'

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¡¡¡¡'But history tells of slaves who rose to the purple,' I chided. ¡¡¡¡'And history tells of opportunities that came to the slaves who rose to the purple,' he answered grimly. 'No man makes opportunity. All the great men ever did was to know it when it came to them. The Corsican knew. I have dreamed as greatly as the Corsican. I should have known the opportunity, but it never came. The thorns sprung up and choked me. And, Hump, I can tell you that you know more about me than any living man except my own brother.' ¡¡¡¡'And what is he? And where is he?' ¡¡¡¡'Master of the steamship Macedonia, seal-hunter,' was the answer. 'We will meet him most probably on the Japan coast. Men call him "Death" Larsen.' ¡¡¡¡'Death Larsen!' I involuntarily cried. 'Is he like you?' ¡¡¡¡'Hardly. He is a lump of an animal without any head. He has all my- my-'

The Sacrifice of Abraham painting

¡¡¡¡'Hump, if you will look on the west coast of the map of Norway you will see an indentation called Romsdal Fiord. I was born within a hundred miles of that stretch of water. But I was not born Norwegian. I am a Dane. My father and mother were Danes, and how they ever came to that bleak bight of land on the west coast I do not know. I never heard. Outside of that, there is nothing mysterious. They were poor people and unlettered. They came of generations of poor, unlettered people- peasants of the sea who sowed their sons on the waves as has been their custom since time began. There is no more to tell.' ¡¡¡¡'But there is,' I objected. 'It is still obscure to me.' ¡¡¡¡'What can I tell you,' he demanded, with a recrudescence of fierceness, 'of the meagerness of a child's life- of fish diet and coarse living; of going out with the boats from the time I could crawl; of my brothers, who went away one by one to the deep-sea farming and never came back; of myself, unable to read or write, cabin-boy at

the Night Watch

his eyes to me at the beginning of my outburst and followed me complacently until I had done and stood before him breathless and dismayed. He waited a moment, as though seeing where to begin, and then said: ¡¡¡¡'Hump, do you know the parable of the sower who went forth to sow? If you will remember, some of the seed fell upon stony places, where there was not much earth, and forthwith they sprung up because they had no deepness of earth. And when the sun was up, they were scorched; and because they had no root they withered away. And some fell among thorns, and the thorns sprung up and choked them.' ¡¡¡¡'Well?' I said. ¡¡¡¡'Well?' he queried half petulantly. 'It was not well. I was one of those seeds.' ¡¡¡¡He dropped his head to the scale and resumed the copying. I finished my work, and had opened the door to leave, when he spoke to me.

Venus and Cupid

'Hump, if you will look on the west coast of the map of Norway you will see an indentation called Romsdal Fiord. I was born within a hundred miles of that stretch of water. But I was not born Norwegian. I am a Dane. My father and mother were Danes, and how they ever came to that bleak bight of land on the west coast I do not know. I never heard. Outside of that, there is nothing mysterious. They were poor people and unlettered. They came of generations of poor, unlettered people- peasants of the sea who sowed their sons on the waves as has been their custom since time began. There is no more to tell.' ¡¡¡¡'But there is,' I objected. 'It is still obscure to me.' ¡¡¡¡'What can I tell you,' he demanded, with a recrudescence of fierceness, 'of the meagerness of a child's life- of fish diet and coarse living; of going out with the boats from the time I could crawl; of my brothers, who went away one by one to the deep-sea farming and never came back; of myself, unable to read or write, cabin-boy at the mature age of ten on the coastwise, old-country ships; of the rough fare and rougher usage, where kicks and blows were bed and breakfast and took the place of

A Greek Beauty

speech, and fear and hatred and pain were my only soul-experiences? I do not care to remember. A madness comes up in my brain even now as I think of it. But there were coastwise skippers I would have sought and killed when a man's strength came to me, only the lines of my life were cast at the time in other places. I did return, not long ago, but unfortunately the skippers were dead, all but one, a mate in the old days, a skipper when I met him, and when I left him, a cripple who would never walk again.' ¡¡¡¡'But you who read Spencer and Darwin and have never seen the inside of a school, how did you learn to read and write?' I queried. ¡¡¡¡'In the English merchant service. Cabin-boy at twelve, ship's boy at fourteen, ordinary seaman at sixteen, able seaman at seventeen and cock of the fo'c's'le; infinite ambition and infinite loneliness, receiving neither help nor sympathy, I did it all for myself- navigation, mathematics, science, literature, and what not. And of what use has it been? Master and owner of a ship at the top of my life, as you say, when I am beginning to diminish and die. Paltry, isn't it? And when the sun was up I was scorched, and because I had no root I withered away.'

My Sweet Rose painting

His eyes were closed, and he was apparently unconscious; but his mouth was wide open, his breast heaving as though from suffocation as he labored noisily for breath. A sailor, from time to time and quite methodically, as a matter of routine, dropped a canvas bucket into the ocean at the end of a rope, hauled it in hand under hand, and sluiced its contents over the prostrate man. ¡¡¡¡Pacing back and forth the length of the hatchway, and savagely chewing the end of a cigar, was the man whose casual glance had rescued me from the sea. His height was probably five feet ten inches, or ten and a half; but my first impression or feel of the man was not of this, but of his strength. And yet, while he was of massive build, with broad shoulders and deep chest, I could not characterize his strength as massive. It was what might be termed a sinewy, knotty strength, of the kind we ascribe to lean and wiry men, but which, in him, because of his heavy build, partook more of the enlarged gorilla order. Not that in appearance he seemed in the

One Moment in Time

least gorilla-like. What I am striving to express is this strength itself, more as a thing apart from his physical semblance. It was a strength we are wont to associate with things primitive, with wild animals and the creatures we imagine our tree-dwelling prototypes to have been- a strength savage, ferocious, alive in itself, the essence of life in that it is the potency of motion, the elemental stuff itself out of which the many forms of life have been molded. ¡¡¡¡Such was the impression of strength I gathered from this man who paced up and down. He was firmly planted on his legs; his feet struck the deck squarely and with surety: every movement of a muscle, from the heave of the shoulders to the tightening of the lips about the cigar, was decisive and seemed to come out of a strength that was excessive and overwhelming. In fact, though this strength pervaded every action of his, it seemed but the advertisement of a greater strength that lurked within, that lay dormant and no more than stirred from time to time, but which might arouse at any moment, terrible and compelling, like the rage of a lion or the wrath of a storm.

flaming june painting

1897年2月12日，马吉芬用手枪自杀，这个日子正好是两年前丁汝昌自杀的时间，丁汝昌是马吉芬非常尊敬的人，有学者认为马吉芬之所以选择这个日子自杀，是在追随他的战友，按美国海军的传统，棺椁上应覆盖美国国旗。但马吉芬下葬的时候身着的是北洋海军军服，棺椁上覆盖着一面黄龙旗，这面旗曾在黄海海战正悬挂于镇远舰上；

[ 转自铁血社区 http://bbs.tiexue.net/ ]
美国学者如此评价马吉芬：“他非常渴望进入海军，但他的祖国没有给他这样的机会。于是，他把生命献给了另外一面国旗下的人们。” ；

我想我们不应该忘记这个白种人对北洋海军和中国的的忠诚。

另外再补充三个资料:

1、与马吉芬共同参加黄海大战的八位洋员,二死七伤,伤亡率高得惊人,大家还是愿意用看待雇佣兵的眼花看待他们吗?

2、马吉芬在镇远遭围攻时,命令放慢速度,偏向而行,待日旗舰松岛靠近突发巨炮射击,二弹击中,加上定远一炮,松岛要害被三炮击中,顿时死伤惨重失去战力.

3、由于其他原因，镇远后来的战斗其实都是马吉芬在指挥，包括击伤西京丸等三艘日舰，而这场海战是以日军首先撤退我军无力再追的形势下结束的.

Head of Christ

Precisely in the way that the door slid back, he slid aside, and I stepped out on deck. I was still weak from my prolonged immersion. A puff of wind caught me, and I staggered across the moving deck to a corner of the cabin, to which I clung for support. The schooner, heeled over far out from the perpendicular, was bowing and plunging into the long Pacific roll. If she were heading southwest, as Johnson had said, the wind, then, I calculated, was blowing nearly from the south. The fog was gone, and in its place the sun sparkled crisply on the surface of the water. I turned to the east, where I knew California must lie, but could see nothing save low-lying fog-banks- the same fog, doubtless, that had brought about the disaster to the Martinez and placed me in my present situation. To the north, not far away, a group of naked rocks thrust above the sea, on one of which I could distinguish a lighthouse. In the southwest, and almost in our course, I saw the pyramidal loom of some vessel's sails.

leonardo da vinci self portrait

my survey of the horizon, I turned to my more immediate surroundings. My first thought was that a man who had come through a collision and rubbed shoulders with death merited more attention than I received. Beyond a sailor at the wheel, who stared curiously across the top of the cabin, I attracted no notice whatever. ¡¡¡¡Everybody seemed interested in what was going on amidships. There, on a hatch, a large man was lying on his back. He was fully clothed, though his shirt was ripped open in front. Nothing was to be seen of his chest, however, for it was covered with a mass of black hair, in appearance like the furry coat of a dog. His face and neck were hidden beneath a black beard, intershot with gray, which would have been stiff and bushy had it not been limp and draggled and dripping with water.

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I SCARCELY KNOW WHERE to begin, though I sometimes facetiously place the cause of it all to Charley Furuseth's credit. He kept a summer cottage in Mill Valley, under the shadow of Mount Tamalpais, and never occupied it except when he loafed through the winter months and read Nietzsche and Schopenhauer to rest his brain. When summer came on, he elected to sweat out a hot and dusty existence in the city and to toil incessantly. Had it not been my custom to run up to see him every Saturday afternoon and to stop over till Monday morning, this particular January Monday morning would not have found me afloat on San Francisco Bay. ¡¡¡¡Not but that I was afloat in a safe craft, for the Martinez was a new ferry-steamer, making her fourth or fifth trip on the run between Sausalito and San Francisco. The danger lay in the heavy fog which blanketed the bay, and of which, as a landsman, I had little apprehension. In fact, I remember the placid exaltation with which

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I SCARCELY KNOW WHERE to begin, though I sometimes facetiously place the cause of it all to Charley Furuseth's credit. He kept a summer cottage in Mill Valley, under the shadow of Mount Tamalpais, and never occupied it except when he loafed through the winter months and read Nietzsche and Schopenhauer to rest his brain. When summer came on, he elected to sweat out a hot and dusty existence in the city and to toil incessantly. Had it not been my custom to run up to see him every Saturday afternoon and to stop over till Monday morning, this particular January Monday morning would not have found me afloat on San Francisco Bay. ¡¡¡¡Not but that I was afloat in a safe craft, for the Martinez was a new ferry-steamer, making her fourth or fifth trip on the run between Sausalito and San Francisco. The danger lay in the heavy fog which blanketed the bay, and of which, as a landsman, I had little apprehension. In fact, I remember the placid exaltation with which

contemporary landscape painting

took up my position on the forward upper deck, directly beneath the pilot-house, and allowed the mystery of the fog to lay hold of my imagination. A fresh breeze was blowing, and for a time I was alone in the moist obscurity; yet not alone, for I was dimly conscious of the presence of the pilot, and of what I took to be the captain, in the glass house above my head. ¡¡¡¡I remember thinking how comfortable it was, this division of labor which made it unnecessary for me to study fogs, winds, tides, and navigation in order to visit my friend who lived across an arm of the sea. It was good that men should be specialists, I mused. The peculiar knowledge of the pilot and captain sufficed for many thousands of people who knew no more of the sea and navigation than I knew. On the other hand, instead of having to devote my energy to the learning of a multitude

famous landscape painting

of things, I concentrated it upon a few particular things, such as, for instance, the analysis of Poe's place in American literature, an essay of mine, by the way, in the current 'Atlantic.' Coming aboard, as I passed through the cabin, I had noticed with greedy eyes a stout gentleman reading the 'Atlantic,' which was open at my very essay. And there it was again, the division of labor, the special knowledge of the pilot and captain which permitted the stout gentleman to read my special knowledge on Poe while they carried him safely from Sausalito to San Francisco. ¡¡¡¡A red-faced man, slamming the cabin door behind him and stumping out on the deck, interrupted my reflections, though I made a mental note of the topic for use in a projected essay which I had thought of calling 'The Necessity for Freedom: A Plea for the Artist.' The red-faced man shot a glance up at the pilot-house, gazed around at the fog, stumped across the deck and back (he evidently had artificial legs), and stood still by my side, legs wide apart and with an expression of keen enjoyment on his face. I was not wrong when I decided that his days had been spent on the sea.

modern landscape painting

由于周方国在西部行征伐之权，国势迅速强大，自周侯季历至西伯姬昌仅仅两代，周方国开辟的领土已“三分天下有其二”，只不过文王曾与纣王在山西黎城恶一场，被打得大败，如果不是来自东夷的军师姜子牙在商王国东部策反东夷作乱，恐怕文王的统一大业将就此完结，而文王被俘、囚于羑里很可能就发生在这场战争中，最终姬昌很可能被纣王处死，而不是像史书上所说的那样被释放回家?

自此，武王姬发韬光养晦、励精图治，而纣王则变生肘腋、两面受敌。击败周军以后，纣王略作休整，便兵发东夷，无暇西顾，使周方国得以重整旗鼓。


在对付东夷的战争中，纣王一方占尽优势。为了永绝后患，纣王甚至建起了一条通往东夷的大道，以便迅速调兵镇压夷人的反抗。

modern landscape painting

一部《封神演义》让商纣王成了世人心目中的一代暴君，可是真实的商纣王又是什么样的呢？


首先，"纣王"并不是正式的帝号，是后人硬加在他头上的恶谥，意思是"残又损善"。再莫名其妙的人，也不会如此不堪地往自己的脸上抹灰吧！他正确的名称应该是商代的第三十二位帝王子辛，也叫"帝辛"。


据正史所载，商纣王博闻广见、思维敏捷、身材高大、膂力过人。他曾经攻克东夷，把疆土开拓到我国东南一带，开发了长江流域。殷商末年，它有两个主要的敌手：西部的周方国及东部的夷人部族（甲骨文里被称作人方）。

african art painting

'That's a ferryboat of some sort,' the newcomer said, indicating a whistle off to the right. 'And there! D'ye hear that? Blown by mouth. Some scow schooner, most likely. Better watch out, Mr. Schooner-man. Ah, I thought so.' ¡¡¡¡The unseen ferryboat was blowing blast after blast, and the mouth-blown horn was tooting in terror-stricken fashion. ¡¡¡¡'And now they're payin' their respects to each other and tryin' to get clear,' the red-faced man went on, as the hurried whistling ceased. ¡¡¡¡His face was shining, his eyes flashing with excitement, as he translated into articulate language the speech of the horns and sirens. 'That's a steam-siren a-goin' it over there to the left. And you hear that fellow with a frog in his throat- a steam-schooner, as near as I can judge, crawlin' in from the Heads against the tide.' ¡¡¡¡A shrill little whistle, piping as if gone mad, came from directly ahead and from very near at hand. Gongs sounded on the Martinez. Our paddlewheels stopped, their pulsing beat died away, and then they started again. The shrill little whistle, like the chirping of a cricket amid the cries of great beasts, shot through the fog from more to the side and swiftly grew faint and fainter. I looked to my companion for enlightenment.

A Greek Beauty

observed the comer, but Tess, who was occupied, did not perceive him till her companion directed her attention to his approach. ¡¡¡¡It was not her hard taskmaster, Farmer Groby; it was one in a semi-clerical costume, who now represented what had once been the free-and-easy Alec d'Urberville. Not being hot at his preaching there was less enthusiasm about him now, and the presence of the grinder seemed to embarrass him. A pale distress was already on Tess's face, and she pulled her curtained hood further over it. ¡¡¡¡D'Urberville came up and said quietly-- ¡¡¡¡`I want to speak to you, Tess.' ¡¡¡¡`You have refused my last request, not to come near me!' said she. ¡¡¡¡`Yes, but I have a good reason.' ¡¡¡¡`Well, tell it.' ¡¡¡¡`It is more serious than you may think.' He glanced round to see if he were overheard. They were at some distance from the man who turned the slicer, and the movement of the machine, too, sufficiently prevented Alec's words reaching other ears. D'Urberville placed himself so as to screen Tess from the labourer, turning his back to the latter.

Biblis painting

It is this,' he continued, with capricious compunction. `In thinking of your soul and mine when we last met, I neglected to inquire as to your worldly condition. You were well dressed, and I did not think of it. But I see now that it is hard - harder than it used to be when I - knew you - harder than you deserve. Perhaps a good deal of it is owing to me!' ¡¡¡¡She did not answer, and he watched her inquiringly, as, with bent head, her face completely screened by the hood, she resumed her trimming of the swedes. By going on with her work she felt better able to keep him outside her emotions. ¡¡¡¡`Tess,' he added, with a sigh of discontent,--'yours was the very worst case I ever was concerned in! I had no idea of what had resulted till you told me. Scamp that I was to foul that innocent life! The whole blame was mine - the whole unconventional business of our time at Trantridge. You, too, the real blood of which I am but

Evening Mood painting

the base imitation, what a blind young thing you were as to possibilities! I say in all earnestness that it is a shame for parents to bring up their girls in such dangerous ignorance of the gins and nets that the wicked may set for them, whether their motive be a good one or the result of simple indifference.' ¡¡¡¡Tess still did no more than listen, throwing down one globular root and taking up another with automatic regularity, the pensive contour of the mere fieldwoman alone marking her. ¡¡¡¡`But it is not that I came to say,' d'Urberville went on. `My circumstances are these. I have lost my mother since you were at Trantridge, and the place is my own. But I intend to sell it, and devote myself to missionary work in Africa. A devil of a poor hand I shall make at the trade, no doubt. However, what I want to ask you is, will you put it in my power to do my duty - to make the only reparation I can make for the trick played you: that is, will you be my wife, and go with me?... I have

Johannes Vermeer Girl with a Pearl Earring Painting

a piece of parchment from his pocket, with a slight fumbling of embarrassment. ¡¡¡¡`What is it?' said she. ¡¡¡¡`A marriage licence.' ¡¡¡¡`O no, sir - no!' she said quickly, starting back. ¡¡¡¡`You will not? Why is that?' ¡¡¡¡And as he asked the question a disappointment which was not entirely the disappointment of thwarted duty crossed d'Urberville face. It was unmistakably a symptom that something of his old passion for her had been revived; duty and desire ran hand-in-hand. ¡¡¡¡`Surely,' he began again, in more impetuous tones, and then looked round at the labourer who turned the slicer. ¡¡¡¡Tess, too, felt that the argument could not be ended there. Informing the man that a gentleman had come to see her, with whom she wished to walk a little way, she moved off with d'Urberville across the zebra-striped field. When they reached the first newly-sloughed section he held out his hand to help her over it; but she stepped forward on the summits of the earth-rolls as if she did not see him.

jesus christ on the cross

You will not marry me, Tess, and make me a self-respecting man?' he repeated, as soon as they were over the furrows. ¡¡¡¡`I cannot.' ¡¡¡¡`But why?' ¡¡¡¡`You know I have no affection for you.' ¡¡¡¡`But you would get to feel that in time, perhaps - as soon as you really could forgive me?' ¡¡¡¡`Never!' ¡¡¡¡`Why so positive?' ¡¡¡¡`I love somebody else.' ¡¡¡¡The words seemed to astonish him. ¡¡¡¡`You do?' he cried. `Somebody else? But has not a sense of what is morally right and proper any weight with you?' ¡¡¡¡`No, no, no - don't say that!' ¡¡¡¡`Anyhow, then, your love for this other man may be only a passing feeling which you will overcome------' ¡¡¡¡`No - no.' ¡¡¡¡`Yes, yes! Why not?' I cannot tell you.' ¡¡¡¡`You must in honour!' ¡¡¡¡`Well then - I have married him.' ¡¡¡¡`Ah!' he exclaimed; and he stopped dead and gazed at her. ¡¡¡¡`I did not wish to tell - I did not mean to!' she pleaded. `It is a secret here, or at any rate but dimly known. So will you, please will you, keep from questioning me? You must remember that we are now strangers.' ¡¡¡¡`Strangers - are we? Strangers!' ¡¡¡¡For a moment a flash of his old irony marked his face; but he determinedly chastened it down. ¡¡¡¡`Is that man your husband?' he asked mechanically, denoting by a sign the labourer who turned the machine.

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from d'Urberville since her departure from Trantridge. ¡¡¡¡The rencounter came at a heavy moment, one of all moments calculated to permit its impact with the least emotional shock. But such was unreasoning memory that, though he stood there openly and palpably a converted man, who was sorrowing for his past irregularities, a fear overcame her, paralyzing her movement so that she neither retreated nor advanced. ¡¡¡¡To think of what emanated from that countenance when she saw it last, and to behold it now! There was the same handsome unpleasantness of mien, but now he wore neatly trimmed, old-fashioned whiskers, the sable moustache having disappeared; and his dress was half-clerical, a modification which had changed his expression sufficiently to abstract the dandyism from his features, and to hinder for a second her belief in his identity.

contemporary landscape painting

To Tess's sense there was, just at first, a ghastly bizarrerie, a grim incongruity, in the march of these solemn words of Scripture out of such a mouth. This too familiar intonation, less than four years earlier, had brought to her ears expressions of such divergent purpose that her heart became quite sick at the irony of the contrast. ¡¡¡¡It was less a reform than a transfiguration. The former curves of sensuousness were now modulated to lines of devotional passion. The lip-shapes that had meant seductiveness were now made to express supplication; the glow on the cheek that yesterday could be translated as riotousness was evangelized to-day into the splendour of pious rhetoric; animalism had become fanaticism; Paganism Paulinism; the bold rolling eye that had flashed upon her form in the old time with such mastery now beamed with the rude energy of a theolatry that was almost ferocious. Those black angularities which his face had used to put on when his wishes were thwarted now did duty in picturing the incorrigible backslider who would insist upon turning again to his wallowing in the

famous landscape painting

¡¡¡¡The lineaments, as such, seemed to complain. They had been diverted from their hereditary connotation to signify impressions for which Nature did not intend them. Strange that their very elevation was a misapplication, that to raise seemed to falsify. ¡¡¡¡Yet could it be so? She would admit the ungenerous sentiment no longer. D'Urberville was not the first wicked man who had turned away from his wickedness to save his soul alive, and why should she deem it unnatural to him? It was but the usage of thought which had been jarred in her at hearing good new words in bad old notes. The greater the sinner the greater the saint; it was not necessary to dive far into Christian history to discover that. ¡¡¡¡Such impressions as these moved her vaguely, and without strict definiteness. As soon as the nerveless pause of her surprise would allow her to stir, her impulse was to pass on out of his sight. He had obviously not discerned her yet in her position against the sun.

african art painting

¡¡¡¡She went on without turning her head. Her back seemed to be endowed with a sensitiveness to ocular beams - even her clothing - so alive was she to a fancied gaze which might be resting upon her from the outside of that barn. All the way along to this point her heart had been heavy with an inactive sorrow; now there was a change in the quality of its trouble. That hunger for affection too long withheld was for the time displaced by an almost physical sense of an implacable past which still engirdled her. It intensified her consciousness of error to a practical despair; the break of continuity between her earlier and present existence, which she had hoped for, had not, after all, taken place. Bygones would never be complete bygones till she was a bygone herself. ¡¡¡¡Thus absorbed she recrossed the northern part of Long-Ash Lane at right angles, and presently saw before her the road ascending whitely to the upland along whose margin the remainder of her journey lay. Its dry pale surface stretched severely onward, unbroken by a single figure, vehicle, or mark, save some occasional

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¡¡¡¡But the moment that she moved again he recognized her. The effect upon her old lover was electric, far stronger than the effect of his presence upon her. His fire, the tumultuous ring of his eloquence, seemed to go out of him. His lip struggled and trembled under the words that lay upon it; but deliver them it could not as long as she faced him. His eyes, after their first glance upon her face, hung confusedly in every other direction but hers, but came back in a desperate leap every few seconds. This paralysis lasted, however, but a short time; for Tess's energies returned with the atrophy of his, and she walked as fast as she was able past the barn and onward. ¡¡¡¡As soon as she could reflect it appalled her, this change in their relative platforms. He who had wrought her undoing was now on the side of the Spirit, while she remained unregenerate. And, as in the legend, it had resulted that her Cyprian image had suddenly appeared upon his altar, whereby the fire of the priest had been wellnigh extinguished.

A Greek Beauty

back to the carriage, and handed her in. The coachman was paid and told where to drive her. Taking next his own bag and umbrella - the sole articles he had brought with him hitherwards - he bade her good-bye; and they parted there and then. ¡¡¡¡The fly moved creepingly up a hill, and Clare watched it go with an unpremeditated hope that Tess would look out of the window for one moment. But that she never thought of doing, would not have ventured to do, lying in a half-dead faint inside. Thus he beheld her recede, and in the anguish of his heart quoted a line from a poet, with peculiar emendations of his own--
God's not in his heaven: all's wrong with the world!When Tess had passed over the crest of the hill he turned to go his own way, and hardly knew that he loved her

Biblis painting

open around her, Tess aroused herself from her stupor. Her first thought was how would she be able to face her parents? ¡¡¡¡She reached a turnpike-gate which stood upon the highway to the village. It was thrown open by a stranger, not by the old man who had kept it for many years, and to whom she had been known; he had probably left on New Year's Day, the date when such changes were made. Having received no intelligence lately from her home, she asked the turnpike-keeper for news. ¡¡¡¡`Oh - nothing, miss,' he answered. Marlott is Marlott still. Folks have died and that. John Durbeyfield, too, hev had a daughter married this week to a gentleman-farmer; not from John's own house, you know; they was married elsewhere; the gentleman being of that high standing that John's own folk was not considered well

Dance Me to the End of Love

family skillentons in their own vaults to this day, but done out of his property in the time o' the Romans. However, Sir John, as we call 'n now, kept up the wedding-day as well as he could, and stood treat to everybody in the parish; and John's wife sung songs at the Pure Drop till past eleven o'clock.' ¡¡¡¡Hearing this, Tess felt so sick at heart that she could not decide to go home publicly in the fly with her luggage and belongings. She asked the turnpike-keeper if she might deposit her things at his house for a while, and, on his offering no objection, she dismissed her carriage, and went on to the village alone by a back lane. ¡¡¡¡At sight of her father's chimney she asked herself how she could possibly enter the house? Inside that cottage her relations were calmly supposing her far away on a wedding-tour with a comparatively rich man, who was to conduct her to bouncing prosperity; while here she was, friendless, creeping up to the old door quite by herself, with no better place to go to in the world.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

She did not reach the house unobserved. just by the garden hedge she was met by a girl who knew her - one of the two or three with whom she had been intimate at school. After making a few inquiries as to how Tess came there, her friend, unheeding her tragic look, interrupted with-- ¡¡¡¡`But where's thy gentleman, Tess?' ¡¡¡¡Tess hastily explained that he had been called away on business, and, leaving her interlocutor, clambered over the garden-hedge, and thus made her way to the house. ¡¡¡¡As she went up the garden-path she heard her mother singing by the back door, coming in sight of which she perceived Mrs Durbeyfield on the doorstep in the act of wringing a sheet. Having performed this without observing Tess, she went indoors, and her daughter followed her. ¡¡¡¡The washing-tub stood in the same old place on the same old quarter-hogshead, and her mother, having thrown the sheet aside, was about to plunge her arms in anew. ¡¡¡¡`Why - Tess! - my chil' - I thought you was married! - married really and truly this time - we sent the cider--'

Hylas and the Nymphs

Yes, mother; so I am.' ¡¡¡¡`Going to be?' ¡¡¡¡`No - I am married.' ¡¡¡¡`Married! Then where's thy husband?' ¡¡¡¡`Oh, he's gone away for a time.' ¡¡¡¡`Gone away! When was you married, then? The day you said?' ¡¡¡¡`Yes, Tuesday, mother.' ¡¡¡¡`And now 'tis on'y Saturday, and he gone away?' ¡¡¡¡`Yes; he's gone.' ¡¡¡¡`What's the meaning o' that? `Nation seize such husbands as you seem to get, say I!' ¡¡¡¡`Mother!' Tess went across to Joan Durbeyfield, laid her face upon the matron's bosom, and burst into sobs. `I don't know how to tell 'ee, mother! You said to me, and wrote to me, that I was not to tell him. But I did tell him - I couldn't help it - and he went away!' ¡¡¡¡`O you little fool - you little fool!' burst out Mrs Durbeyfield, splashing Tess and herself in her agitation. `My good God! that ever I should ha' lived to say it, but I say it again, you little fool!'

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That day he began to pack up, and she went upstairs and began to pack also. Both knew that it was in their two minds that they might part the next morning for ever, despite the gloss of assuaging conjectures thrown over their proceeding because they were of the sort to whom any parting which has an air of finality is a torture. He knew, and she knew, that, though the fascination which each had exercised over the other - on her part independently of accomplishments - would probably in the first days of their separation be even more potent than ever, time must attenuate that effect; the practical arguments against accepting her as a housemate might pronounce themselves more strongly in the boreal light of a remoter view. Moreover, when two people are once parted have abandoned a common domicile and a common environment - new growths insensibly bud upward to fill each vacated place; unforeseen accidents hinder intentions, and old plans are forgotten

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¡¡¡¡`And I shall not stay here. Though I didn't like to initiate it, I have seen that it was advisable we should part - at least for a while, till I can better see the shape that things have taken, and can write to you.' ¡¡¡¡Tess stole a glance at her husband. He was pale, even tremulous; but, as before, she was appalled by the determination revealed in the depths of this gentle being she had married - the will to subdue the grosser to the subtler emotion, the substance to the conception, the flesh to the spirit. Propensities, tendencies, habits, were as dead leaves upon the tyrannous wind of his imaginative ascendency. ¡¡¡¡He may have observed her look, for he explained-- ¡¡¡¡`I think of people more kindly when I am away from them'; adding cynically, `God knows; perhaps we shall shake down together some day, for weariness; thousands have done it!'

famous landscape painting

夷人尽管善弓，但商军的箭镞以青铜打造，精巧而锋利，其射程远、杀伤力大，而且商军作战部队中甚至出现了“象队”，古书上说：“商人服象为虐于东夷。”大象象牙轻易地戳穿了东夷人的胸膛然后把尸体抛向空中，东夷的军队一批批倒了下去。被纣王指挥的商军一阵冲杀，层层包围，东夷人的部队大部分做了俘虏?




据说，商军如秋风扫落叶一样，一直打到长江下游，降服了大多数东夷部落，俘虏了成千上万的东夷人，取得大胜。从此以后，中原和东南一带的交通得到开发，中部和东南部的关系密切了。中原地区的文化逐渐传播到了东南地区，使当地人民利用优越的自然地理条件发展了生产。

modern landscape painting

their return from market just before their marriage, when he re-enacted in his bedroom his combat with the man who had insulted her. Tess saw that continued mental distress had wrought him into that somnambulistic state now. ¡¡¡¡Her loyal confidence in him lay so deep down in her heart that, awake or asleep, he inspired her with no sort of personal fear. If he had entered with a pistol in his hand he would scarcely have disturbed her trust in his protectiveness. ¡¡¡¡Clare came close, and bent over her. `Dead, dead, dead!' he murmured. ¡¡¡¡After fixedly regarding her for some moments with the same gaze of unmeasurable woe he bent lower, enclosed her in his arms, and rolled her in the sheet as in a shroud. Then lifting her from the bed with as much respect as one would show to a dead body, he carried her across the room, murmuring-- ¡¡¡¡`My poor, poor Tess - my dearest, darling Tess! So sweet, so good, so true!'

african art painting

, withheld so severely in his waking hours, were inexpressibly sweet to her forlorn and hungry heart. If it had been to save her weary life she would not, by moving or struggling, have put an end to the position she found herself in. Thus she lay in absolute stillness, scarcely venturing to breathe, and, wondering what he was going to do with her, suffered herself to be borne out upon the landing. ¡¡¡¡`My wife - dead, dead!' he said. ¡¡¡¡He paused in his labours for a moment to lean with her against the banister. Was he going to throw her down? Self-solicitude was near extinction in her, and in the knowledge that he had planned to depart on the morrow, possibly for always, she lay in his arms in this precarious position with a sense rather of luxury than of terror. If they could only fall together, and both be dashed to pieces, how fit, how desirable.

Biblis painting

Yes. Six or seven went to the straw-barton yesterday, and three the day before, making nearly twenty in the straw already. Ah - is it that the farmer don't want my help for the calving? O, I am not wanted here any more! And I have tried so hard to--' ¡¡¡¡`Crick didn't exactly say that he would no longer require you. But, knowing what our relations were, he said in the most good-natured and respectful manner possible that he supposed on my leaving at Christmas I should take you with me, and on my asking what he would do without you he merely observed that, as a matter of fact, it was a time of year when he could do with a very little female help. I am afraid I was sinner enough to feel rather glad that he was in this way forcing your hand.' ¡¡¡¡`I don't think you ought to have felt glad, Angel. Because 'tis always mournful not to be wanted, even if at the same time 'tis convenient.' ¡¡¡¡`Well, it is convenient - you have admitted that.' He put his finger upon her cheek. `Ah!' he said. ¡¡¡¡`What?' ¡¡¡¡`I feel the red rising up at her having been caught! But why should I trifle so! We will not trifle - life is too serious.'

A Greek Beauty

and listened. The water was now high in the streams, squirting through the weirs, and tinkling under culverts; the smallest gullies were all full; there was no taking short cuts anywhere, and foot-passengers were compelled to follow the permanent ways. From the whole extent of the invisible vale came a multitudinous intonation; it forced upon their fancy that a great city lay below them, and that the murmur was the vociferation of its populace. ¡¡¡¡`It seems like tens of thousands of them,' said Tess; `holding public-meetings in their market-places, arguing, preaching, quarrelling, sobbing, groaning, praying, and cursing.' ¡¡¡¡Clare was not particularly heeding. ¡¡¡¡`Did Crick speak to you to-day, dear, about his not wanting much assistance during the winter months?' ¡¡¡¡`No.' ¡¡¡¡`The cows are going dry rapidly.'

Dance Me to the End of Love

It is. Perhaps I saw that before you did.' ¡¡¡¡She was seeing it then. To decline to marry him after all - in obedience to her emotion of last night - and leave the dairy, meant to go to some strange place, not a dairy; for milkmaids were not in request now calving-time was coming on; to go to some arable farm where no divine being like Angel Clare was. She hated the thought, and she hated more the thought of going home. ¡¡¡¡`So that, seriously, dearest Tess,' he continued, `since you will probably have to leave at Christmas, it is in every way desirable and convenient that I should carry you off then as my property. Besides, if you were not the most uncalculating girl in the world you would know that we could not go on like this for ever.' ¡¡¡¡`I wish we could. That it would always be summer and autumn, and you always courting me, and always thinking as much of me as you have done through the past summer-time!' ¡¡¡¡`I always shall.' ¡¡¡¡`O, I know you will!' she cried, with a sudden fervour of faith in him. `Angel, I will fix the day when I will become yours for always!' ¡¡¡¡Thus at last it was arranged between them, during that dark walk home, amid the myriads of liquid voices on the right and left.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

Mr and Mrs Crick were promptly told - with injunctions to secrecy; for each of the lovers was desirous that the marriage should be kept as private as possible. The dairyman, though he had thought of dismissing her soon, now made a great concern about losing her. What should he do about his skimming? Who would make the ornamental butterpats for the Anglebury and Sandbourne ladies? Mrs Crick congratulated Tess on the shilly-shallying having at last come to an end, and said that directly she set eyes on Tess she divined that she was to be the chosen one of somebody who was no common outdoor man; Tess had looked so superior as she walked across the barton on that afternoon of her arrival; that she was of a good family she could have sworn. In point of fact Mrs Crick did remember thinking that Tess was graceful and good-looking as she approached; but the superiority might have been a growth of the imagination aided by subsequent knowledge.

Hylas and the Nymphs

Tess was now carried along upon the wings of the hours, without the sense of a will. The word had been given; the number of the day written down. Her naturally bright intelligence had begun to admit the fatalistic convictions common to field-folk and those who associate more extensively with natural phenomena than with their fellow-creatures; and she accordingly drifted into that passive responsiveness to all things her lover suggested, characteristic of the frame of mind. ¡¡¡¡But she wrote anew to her mother, ostensibly to notify the wedding-day; really to again implore her advice. It was a gentleman who had chosen her, which perhaps her mother had not sufficiently considered. A post-nuptial explanation, which might be accepted with a light heart by a rougher man, might not be received with the same feeling by him. But this communication brought no reply from Mrs Durbeyfield.

art painting reproduction

DEAR TESS, - I write these few lines Hoping they will find you well, as they leave me at Present, thank God for it. Dear Tess, we are all glad to Hear that you are going really to be married soon. But with respect to your question, Tess, I say between ourselves, quite private but very strong, that on no account do you say a word of your Bygone Trouble to him. I did not tell everything to your Father, he being so Proud on account of his Respectability, which, perhaps, your Intended is the same. Many a woman - some of the Highest in the Land - have had a Trouble in their time; and why should you Trumpet yours when others don't Trumpet theirs? No girl would be such a Fool, specially as it is so long ago, and not your Fault at all. I shall answer the same if you ask me fifty times. Besides, you must bear in mind that, knowing it to be your Childish Nature to tell all that's in your heart - so simple! - I made you promise me never to let it out by Word or Deed, having your Welfare in my Mind; and you most solemnly did promise it going from this Door. I have not named either that Question or your coming marriage to your Father, as he would blab it everywhere, poor Simple Man.

contemporary landscape painting

Dear Tess, keep up your Spirits, and we mean to send you a Hogshead of Cyder for your Wedding, knowing there is not much in your parts, and thin Sour Stuff what there is. So no more at present, and with kind love to your Young Man. - From your affectte. Mother, ¡¡¡¡J. DURBEYFIELD.`O mother, mother!' murmured Tess. ¡¡¡¡She was recognizing how light was the touch of events the most oppressive upon Mrs Durbeyfield's elastic spirit. Her mother did not see life as Tess saw it. That haunting episode of bygone days was to her mother but a passing accident. But perhaps her mother was right as to the course to be followed, whatever she might be in her reasons. Silence seemed, on the face of it, best for her adored one's happiness: silence it should be. Tess wrote a most touching and urgent letter to her mother the very next day, and by the end of the week a response to her communication arrived in Joan Durbeyfield's wandering last-century hand.

famous landscape painting

Thus steadied by a command from the only person in the world who had any shadow of right to control her action, Tess grew calmer. The responsibility was shifted, and her heart was lighter than it had been for weeks. The days of declining autumn which followed her assent, beginning with the month of October, formed a season through which she lived in spiritual altitudes more nearly approaching ecstasy than any other period of her life. ¡¡¡¡There was hardly a touch of earth in her love for Clare. To her sublime trustfulness he was all that goodness could be - knew all that a guide, philosopher, and friend should know. She thought every line in the contour of his person the perfection of masculine beauty, his soul the soul of a saint, his intellect that of a seer. The wisdom of her love for him, as love, sustained her dignity; she seemed to be wearing a crown. The compassion of his love for her, as she saw it, made her lift up her heart to him in devotion. He would sometimes catch her large, worshipful eyes, that had no bottom to them, looking at him from their depths, as if she saw something immortal before her.

modern landscape painting

She dismissed the past - trod upon it and put it out, as one treads on a coal that is smouldering and dangerous. ¡¡¡¡She had not known that men could be so disinterested, chivalrous, protective, in their love for women as he. Angel Clare was far from all that she thought him in this respect; absurdly far, indeed; but he was, in truth, more spiritual than animal; he had himself well in hand, and was singularly free from grossness. Though not cold-natured, he was rather bright than hot - less Byronic than Shelleyan; could love desperately, but with a love more especially inclined to the imaginative and ethereal; it was a fastidious emotion which could jealously guard the loved one against his very self. This amazed and enraptured Tess, whose slight experiences had been so infelicitous till now; and in her reaction from indignation against the male sex she swerved to excess of honour for Clare.

african art painting

of her instincts on this matter, if clearly stated, would have been that the elusive quality in her sex which attracts men in general might be distasteful to so perfect a man after an avowal of love, since it must in its very nature carry with it a suspicion of art. ¡¡¡¡The country custom of unreserved comradeship out of doors during betrothal was the only custom she knew, and to her it had no strangeness; though it seemed oddly anticipative to Clare till he saw how normal a thing she, in common with all the other dairy-folk, regarded it. Thus, during this October month of wonderful afternoons they roved along the meads by creeping paths which followed the brinks of trickling tributary brooks, hopping across by little wooden bridges to the other side, and back again. They were never out of the sound of some purling weir, whose buzz accompanied their own murmuring, while the beams of the sun, almost as

A Greek Beauty

these early days of her residence here Tess did not skim, but went out of doors at once after rising, where he was generally awaiting her. The spectral, half-compounded, aqueous light which pervaded the open mead, impressed them with a feeling of isolation, as if they were Adam and Eve. At this dim inceptive stage of the day Tess seemed to Clare to exhibit a dignified largeness both of disposition and physique, an almost regnant power, possibly because he knew that at that preternatural time hardly any woman so well endowed in person as she was likely to be walking in the open air within the boundaries of his horizon; very few in all England. Fair women are usually asleep at midsummer dawns. She was close at hand, and the rest were nowhere. ¡¡¡¡The mixed, singular, luminous gloom in which they walked along together to the spot where the cows lay, often made him think of the Resurrection hour. He little thought that the Magdalen might be at his side. Whilst all the landscape was in neutral shade his companion's face, which was the focus of his eyes, rising above

Boulevard des Capucines

mist stratum, seemed to have a sort of phosphorescence upon it. She looked ghostly, as if she were merely a soul at large. In reality her face, without appearing to do so, had caught the cold gleam of day from the north-east; his own face, though he did not think of it, wore the same aspect to her. ¡¡¡¡It was then, as has been said, that she impressed him most deeply. She was no longer the milkmaid, but a visionary essence of woman - a whole sex condensed into one typical form. He called her Artemis, Demeter, and other fanciful names half teasingly, which she did not like because she did not understand them. ¡¡¡¡`Call me Tess,' she would say askance; and he did. ¡¡¡¡Then it would grow lighter, and her features would become simply feminine; they had changed from those of a divinity who could confer bliss to those of a being who craved it.

female nude reclining

¡¡At these non-human hours they could get quite close to the waterfowl. Herons came, with a great bold noise as of opening doors and shutters, out of the boughs of a plantation which they frequented at the side of the mead; or, if already on the spot, hardily maintained their standing in the water as the pair walked by, watching them by moving their heads round in a slow, horizontal, passionless wheel, like the turn of puppets by clockwork. ¡¡¡¡They could then see the faint summer fogs in layers, woolly, level, and apparently no thicker than counterpanes, spread about the meadows in detached remnants of small extent. On the gray moisture of the grass were marks where the cows had lain through the night - dark-green islands of dry herbage the size of their carcases, in the general sea of dew. From each island proceeded a serpentine trail, by which the cow had rambled away to feed after getting up, at the end of which trail they found her; the snoring puff from her nostrils, when she recognized them, making an intenser little fog of her own amid the prevailing one. Then they drove the animals back to the barton, or sat down to milk them on the spot, as the case might require.

Gustav Klimt Kiss painting

¡¡¡¡Or perhaps the summer fog was more general, and the meadows lay like a white sea, out of which the scattered trees rose like dangerous rocks. Birds would soar through it into the upper radiance, and hang on the wing sunning themselves, or alight on the wet rails subdividing the mead, which now shone like glass rods. Minute diamonds of moisture from the mist hung, too, upon Tess's eyelashes, and drops upon her hair, like seed pearls. When the day grew quite strong and commonplace these dried off her; moreover, Tess then lost her strange and ethereal beauty; her teeth, lips, and eyes scintillated in the sunbeams, and she was again the dazzlingly fair dairymaid only, who had to hold her own against the other women of the world. ¡¡¡¡About this time they would hear Dairyman Crick's voice, lecturing the non-resident milkers for arriving late, and speaking sharply to old Deborah Fyander for not washing her hands.

klimt painting the kiss

For Heaven's sake, pop thy hands under the pump, Deb! Upon my soul if the London folk only knowed of thee and thy slovenly my ways, they'd swaller their milk and butter more mincing, than they do a'ready; and that's saying a good deal.' ¡¡¡¡The milking progressed, till towards the end Tess and Clare, in common with the rest, could hear the heavy breakfast table dragged out from the wall in the kitchen by Mrs Crick, this being the invariable preliminary to each meal; the same horrible scrape accompanying its return journey when the table had been cleared. 21¡¡¡¡ There was a great stir in the milk-house just after breakfast. The churn revolved as usual, but the butter would not come. Whenever this happened the dairy was paralyzed. Squish, squash, echoed the milk in the great cylinder, but never arose the sound they waited for.

Mother and Child

his wife, the milkmaids Tess, Marian, Retty Priddle, Izz Huett, and the married ones from the cottages; also Mr Clare, Jonathan Kail, old Deborah, and the rest, stood gazing hopelessly at the churn; and the boy who kept the horse going outside put on moon-like eyes to show his sense of the situation. Even the melancholy horse himself seemed to look in at the window in inquiring despair at each walk round. ¡¡¡¡`'Tis years since I went to Conjuror Trendle's son in Egdon - years!' said the dairyman bitterly. `And he was nothing to what his father had been. I have said fifty times, if I have said once, that I don't believe in en; though a' do cast folks' waters very true. But I shall have to go to 'n if he's alive. O yes, I shall have to go to 'n, if this sort of thing continnys!' ¡¡¡¡Even Mr Clare began to feel tragical at the dairyman's desperation. ¡¡¡¡`Conjuror Fall, t'other side of Casterbridge that they used to call Wide-O he's rotten as touchwood by now.'

contemporary painting

The general attention being drawn to her, including that of the dairyman's pupil, Tess flushed, and remarking evasively that it was only a fancy, resumed her breakfast. ¡¡¡¡Clare continued to observe her. She soon finished her eating, and having a consciousness that Clare was regarding her, began to trace imaginary patterns on the tablecloth with her forefinger with the constraint of a domestic animal that perceives itself to be watched. ¡¡¡¡`What a fresh and virginal daughter of Nature that milkmaid is!' he said to himself. ¡¡¡¡And then he seemed to discern in her something that was familiar, something which carried him back into a joyous and unforeseeing past, before the necessity of taking thought had made the heavens gray. He concluded that he had beheld her before; where he could not tell. A casual encounter during some country ramble it certainly had been, and he was not greatly curious about it. But the circumstance was sufficient to lead him to select Tess in preference to the other pretty milkmaids when he wished to contemplate contiguous womankind.

landscape art painting

牧野之战是我国古代史上规模空前的一场战争。周武王在《尚书》中开列了纣王六条罪状： 第一是酗酒；第二是不用贵戚旧臣；第三是重用小人；第四是听信妇言；第五是信有命在天；第六是不留心祭祀。其实很多在我们现在对历史商所有帝王看来，这六条根本不算什么，甚至有些可以并不认为是罪状。




公元前1046年正月，周武王统率兵车300乘，虎贲3000人，甲士4万5千人，浩浩荡荡东进伐商。同月下旬，周军进抵孟津，在那里与反商的庸、卢、彭、 濮、蜀（均居今汉水流）、羌、微（均居今渭水流域）、髳（居今山西省平陆南）等部落的部队会合。武王利用商地人心归周的有利形势，率本部及协同自己作战的部落军队，于正月二十八日由孟津（今河南孟县南）冒雨迅速东进。从汜地（今河南荥阳汜水镇）渡过黄河后，兼程北上，至百泉（今河

landscape art painting

实事求是地说，这个历史贡献，应该记到纣王身上。从《左传》记载的时间看，他很可能是在这次征伐东夷的战争中，路过有苏氏部落掳获了妲己。




但这场旷日持久的征战却几乎拖垮了大商王朝。西陲的周武王得知纣王大军尽出，指向东方，都城内防御力甚弱，便在一部分叛商部族的带领之下，奇兵突袭，于牧野一战功成，而这时商王的大军远在东南，无力援手，牧野之战的商军，并非商王朝的精锐之师，而是临时武装起来的奴隶和囚徒。




即便如此，牧野之战也打得惨烈非常，而不是像史书上所说的那样，奴隶与囚徒们临阵倒戈，周武王几乎是兵不血刃地赢得了胜利。

landscape painting sale

this respect. Out of the whole ninety-five there were eight in particular - Dumpling, Fancy, lofty, Mist, Old Pretty, Young Pretty, Tidy, and Loud - who, though the teats of one or two were as hard as carrots, gave down to her with a readiness that made her work on them a mere touch of the fingers. Knowing, however, the dairyman's wish, she endeavoured conscientiously to take the animals `just as they came, excepting the very hard yielders which she could not yet manage. ¡¡¡¡But she soon found a curious correspondence between the ostensibly chance position of the cows and her wishes in this matter, till she felt that their order could not be the result of accident. The dairyman's pupil had lent a hand in getting the cows together of late, and at the fifth or sixth time she turned her eyes, as she rested against the cow, full of sly inquiry upon him. ¡¡¡¡`Mr Clare, you have ranged the cows!' she said, blushing; and in making the accusation symptoms of a smile gently lifted her upper lip in spite of her, so as to show the tips of her teeth, the lower lip remaining severely still.

impressionist landscape painting

Well, it makes no difference,' said he. `You will always be here to milk them.' ¡¡¡¡`Do you think so? I hope I shall! But I don't know.' ¡¡¡¡She was angry with herself afterwards, thinking that he, unaware of her grave reasons for liking this seclusion, might have mistaken her meaning. She had spoken so earnestly to him, as if his presence were somehow a factor in her wish. Her misgiving was such that at dusk, when the milking was over, she walked in the garden alone, to continue her regrets that she had disclosed to him her discovery of his considerateness. It was a typical summer evening in June, the atmosphere being in such delicate equilibrium and so transmissive that inanimate objects seemed endowed with two or three senses, if not five. There was no distinction between the near and the far, and an auditor felt close to everything within the horizon. The soundlessness impressed her as a positive entity rather than as the mere negation of noise. It was broken by the strumming of strings.

fine art oil painting

Tess had heard those notes in the attic above her head. Dim, flattened, constrained by their confinement, they had never appealed to her as now, when they wandered in the still air with a stark quality like that of nudity. To speak absolutely, both instrument and execution were poor, but the relative is all, and as she listened Tess, like a fascinated bird, could not leave the spot. Far from leaving she drew up towards the performer, keeping behind the hedge that he might not guess her presence. ¡¡¡¡The outskirt of the garden in which Tess found herself had been left uncultivated for some years, and was now damp and rank with juicy grass which sent up mists of pollen at a touch; and with tall blooming weeds emitting offensive smells - weeds whose red and yellow and purple hues formed a polychrome as dazzling as that of cultivated flowers. She went stealthily as a cat through this profusion of growth, gathering cuckoo-spittle on her skirts, cracking snails that were underfoot, staining her hands with thistlemilk and slug-slime, and rubbing off upon her naked arms sticky blights which, though snow-white on the apple-tree trunks, made madder stains on her skin; thus she drew quite near to Clare, still unobserved of him.

painting flower pot

¡¡¡¡The only exercise that Tess took at this time was after dark; and it was then, when out in the woods, that she seemed least solitary. She knew how to hit to a hair's-breadth that moment of evening when the light and the darkness are so evenly balanced that the constraint of day and the suspense of night neutralize each other, leaving absolute mental liberty. It is then that the plight of being alive becomes attenuated to its least possible dimensions. She had no fear of the shadows; her sole idea seemed to be to shun mankind - or rather that cold accretion called the world, which, so terrible in the mass, is so unformidable, even pitiable, in its units. ¡¡¡¡On these lonely hills and dales her quiescent glide was of a piece with the element she moved in. Her flexuous and stealthy figure became an integral part of the scene. At times her whimsical fancy would intensify natural processes around her till they seemed a part of her own story. Rather they became a part of it; for the

lotus flower painting

winter twigs, were formulae of bitter reproach. A wet day was the expression of irremediable grief at her weakness in the mind of some vague ethical being whom she could not class definitely as the God of her childhood, and could not comprehend as any other. ¡¡¡¡But this encompassment of her own characterization, based on shreds of convention, peopled by phantoms and voices antipathetic to her, was a sorry and mistaken creation of Tess's fancy - a cloud of moral hobgoblins by which she was terrified without reason. It was they that were out of harmony with the actual world, not she. Walking among the sleeping birds in the hedges, watching the skipping rabbits on a moonlit warren, or standing under a pheasant-laden bough, she looked upon herself as a figure of Guilt intruding into the haunts of Innocence. But all the while she was making a distinction where there was no difference. Feeling herself in antagonism she was quite in accord. She had been made to break an accepted social law, but no law known to the environment in which she fancied herself such an anomaly.

flower vase painting

in August. The denser nocturnal vapours, attacked by the warm beams, were dividing and shrinking into isolated fleeces within hollows and coverts, where they waited till they should be dried away to nothing. ¡¡¡¡The sun, on account of the mist, had a curious sentient, personal look, demanding the masculine pronoun for its adequate expression. His present aspect, coupled with the lack of all human forms in the scene, explained the old-time heliolatries in a moment. One could feel that a saner religion had never prevailed under the sky. The luminary was a golden-haired, beaming, mild-eyed, God-like creature, gazing down in the vigour and intentness of youth upon an earth that was brimming with interest for him.
His light, a little later, broke through chinks of cottage shutters, throwing stripes like red-hot pokers upon cupboards, chests of drawers, and other furniture within; and awakening harvesters who were not already astir.

contemporary painting

¡¡¡¡But of all ruddy things that morning the brightest were two broad arms of painted wood, which rose from the margin of a yellow cornfield hard by Marlott village. They, with two others below, formed the revolving Maltese cross of the reaping-machine, which had been brought to the field on the previous evening to be ready for operations this day. The paint with which they were smeared, intensified in hue by the sunlight, imparted to them a look of having been dipped in liquid fire. ¡¡¡¡The field had already been `opened'; that is to say, a lane a few feet wide had been hand-cut through the wheat along the whole circumference of the field, for the first passage of the horses and machine. ¡¡¡¡Two groups, one of men and lads, the other of women, had come down the lane just at the hour when the shadows of the eastern hedge-top struck the west hedge midway, so that the heads of the groups were enjoying sunrise while their feet were still in the dawn. They disappeared from the lane between the two stone posts which flanked the nearest field-gate.

landscape art painting

Presently there arose from within a ticking like the love-making of the grasshopper. The machine had begun, and a moving concatenation of three horses and the aforesaid long rickety machine was visible over the gate, a driver sitting upon one of the hauling horses, and an attendant on the seat of the implement. Along one side of the field the whole wain went, the arms of the mechanical reaper revolving slowly, till it passed down the hill quite out of sight. In a minute it came up on the other side of the field at the same equable pace; the glistening brass star in the forehead of the fore horse first catching the eye as it rose into view over the stubble, then the bright arms, and then the whole machine. ¡¡¡¡The narrow lane of stubble encompassing the field grew wider with each circuit, and the standing corn was reduced to smaller area as the morning wore on. Rabbits, hares, snakes, rats, mice, retreated inwards as into a fastness, unaware of the ephemeral nature of their refuge, and of the doom that awaited them later in the

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）。周公姓姬名旦，是周文王第四子，因封地在周，称周公，后封鲁国，但未到鲁即封。他辅佐武王伐纣曾两次东征，并为西周奴隶制国家制定了各种典章制度，制礼作乐，是我国西周初年著名的政治家。公元前1041年，武庚联合了管、蔡二叔以及商的属国奄、徐、楚等十几个国家一同向西进军，反周阵营声势浩大。如《尚书大传》云：“管叔、蔡叔疑周公，流言于国曰：‘公将不利于王’，奄君、薄姑谓禄父曰：‘武王既死矣，今王尚幼矣，周公见疑矣，此百世之时也，请举事！’然后禄父及三监叛也。”（管叔鲜，文王三子；蔡叔度，文王五子；霍叔处，文王八子。事监视商朝遗民，故谓三监）周公旦在千钧一发之际，于公元前1040年举兵东征，平定叛乱。公元前1039年，周公杀武庚，灭东方50国；管叔鲜被杀，将蔡叔放逐，霍叔被废为庶人。把微子（纣王兄）封于殷地，以代殷后，爵为宋公，以后为宋国，都于商丘。武庚的后人便以他字中的禄为姓氏，称为禄氏。武庚战死，叛乱平定，殷人见复国无望，只好纷纷出逃

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牧野之战是我国古代车战初期的著名战例，它终止了殷商王朝的六百年统治，确立了周王朝对中原地区的统治秩序，为西周奴隶制礼乐文明的全面兴盛开辟了道路，对后世历史的发展产生了深远的影响。而其所体现的谋略和作战艺术，也对古代军事思想的发展具有不可低估的意义。




公元前1046年，商朝灭亡后，周武王封纣王的儿子武庚于殷地（今河南商丘）以祀殷后，留在殷墟管理商朝遗民，武庚却不甘心做周的臣子。周初，武王死后（公元前1043年），其子成王年幼（13岁），周公摄政（称咸

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The incline was the same down which d'Urberville had driven with her so wildly on that day in June. Tess went up the remainder of its length without stopping, and on reaching the edge of the escarpment gazed over the familiar green world beyond, now half-veiled in mist. It was always beautiful from here; it was terribly beautiful to Tess to day, for since her eyes last fell upon it she had learnt that the serpent hisses where the sweet birds sing, and her views of life had been totally changed for her by the lesson. Verily another girl than the simple one she had been at home was she who, bowed by thought, stood still here, and turned to look behind her. She could not bear to look forward into the Vale. ¡¡¡¡Ascending by the long white road that Tess herself had just laboured up, she saw a two-wheeled vehicle, beside which walked a man, who held up his hand to attract her attention.

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She obeyed the signal to wait for him with unspeculative repose, and in a few minutes man and horse stopped beside her. ¡¡¡¡`Why did you slip away by stealth like this?' said d'Urberville, with upbraiding breathlessness; `on a Sunday morning, too, when people were all in bed! I only discovered it by accident, and I have been driving like the deuce to overtake you. Just look at the mare. Why go off like this? You know that nobody wished to hinder your going. And how unnecessary it has been for you to toll along on foot, and encumber yourself with this heavy load! I have followed like a madman, simply to drive you the rest of the distance, if you won't come back.' ¡¡¡¡`I shan't come back,' said she. thought you wouldn't - I said so! Well, then, put up your baskets, and let me help you on.' ¡¡¡¡She listlessly placed her basket and bundle within the dog-cart, and stepped up, and they sat side by side. She had no fear of him now, and in the cause of her confidence her sorrow lay.

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the journey was continued with broken unemotional conversation on the commonplace objects by the wayside. He had quite forgotten his struggle to kiss her when, in the early summer, they had driven in the opposite direction along the same road. But she had not, and she sat now, like a puppet, replying to his remarks in monosyllables. After some miles they came in view of the clump of trees beyond which the village of Marlott stood. It was only then that her still face showed the least emotion, a tear or two beginning to trickle down. ¡¡¡¡`What are you crying for?' he coldly asked. ¡¡¡¡`I was only thinking that I was born over there,' murmured Tess. ¡¡¡¡`Well - we must all be born somewhere.' ¡¡¡¡`I wish I had never been born - there or anywhere else!' `Pooh! Well, if you didn't wish to come to Trantridge why did you come,'

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、七次，也要停止取齐，以稳住阵脚。严申不准杀害降者，以瓦解商军。誓师后，武王下令向商军发起总攻击。他先使“师尚父与百夫致师”，即让吕尚率领一部分精锐突击部队向商军挑战，以牵制迷惑敌人，并打乱其阵脚。商军中的奴隶和战俘心向武王，这时便纷纷起义，掉转戈矛，帮助周帅作战。“皆倒兵以战，以开武王”。武王乘势以“大卒（主力）冲驰帝纣师”，猛烈冲杀敌军。于是商军十几万之众顷刻土崩瓦解。纣王见大势尽去，于当天晚上仓惶逃回朝歌，登上鹿台我爱昆仑而死。周军乘胜进击，攻占朝歌，灭亡商朝。尔后，武王分兵四出，征伐商朝各地诸侯，肃清殷商残余势力。从此，站立了数百年的商朝灭亡。

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辉县西北）折而东行，直指朝歌。周师沿途没有遇 到商军的抵抗，故开进顺利，仅经过6天的行程，便于二月初四拂晓抵达牧野。 周军进攻的消息传至朝歌，商朝廷上下一片惊恐。商纣王无奈之中只好仓促部署防御。但此时商军主力还远在东南地区，无法立即调回。于是只好武装大批奴隶，连同守卫国都的商军共约17万人（一说70万，殊难相信），由自己率领，开赴牧野迎战周师。




二月初五凌晨，周军布阵完毕，庄严誓师，史称“牧誓”。武王在阵前声讨纣王听信宠姬谗言，不祭祀祖宗，招诱四方的罪人和逃亡的奴隶，暴虐地残害百姓等诸多罪行，从而激发起从征将士的敌忾心与斗志。接着，武王又郑重宣布了作战中的行动要求和军事纪律：每前进六步、七步，就要停止取齐，以保持队形；每击刺四、五次或

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returned to the yard, and the process was repeated till all the pet cocks and hens had been submitted to the old woman - Hamburghs, Bantams, Cochins, Brahmas, Dorkings, and such other sorts as were in fashion just then - her perception of each visitor being seldom at fault as she received the bird upon her knees. ¡¡¡¡It reminded Tess of a Confirmation, in which Mrs d'Urberville was the bishop, the fowls the young people presented, and herself and the maidservant the parson and curate of the parish bringing them up. At the end of the ceremony Mrs d'Urberville abruptly asked Tess, wrinkling and twitching her face into undulations, `Can you whistle?' ¡¡¡¡`Whistle, Ma'am?' Yes, whistle tunes.' ¡¡¡¡Tess could whistle like most other country girls, though the accomplishment was one which she did not care to profess in genteel company. However, she blandly admitted that such was the fact.

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Then you will have to practise it every day. I had a lad who did it very well, but he has left. I want you to whistle to my bullfinches; as I cannot see them I like to hear them, and we teach `em airs that way. Tell her where the cages are, Elizabeth. You must begin tomorrow, or they will go back in their piping. They have been neglected these several days.' ¡¡¡¡`Mr d'Urberville whistled to 'em this morning, ma'am,' said Elizabeth. ¡¡¡¡`He! Pooh!' ¡¡¡¡The old lady's face creased into furrows of repugnance, and she made no further reply. ¡¡¡¡Thus the reception of Tess by her fancied kinswoman terminated, and the birds were taken back to their quarters. The girl's surprise at Mrs d'Urberville's manner was not great; for since seeing the size of the house she had expected no more. But she was far from being aware that the old lady had never heard a word of the so-called kinship. She gathered that no great affection flowed between the blind woman and her son. But in that, too, she was mistaken. Mrs d'Urberville was not the first mother compelled to love her offspring resentfully, and to be bitterly fond.

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before, Tess inclined to the freedom and novelty of her new position in the morning when the sun shone, now that she was once installed there; and she was curious to test her powers in the unexpected direction asked of her, so as to ascertain her chance of retaining her post. As soon as she was alone within the walled garden she sat herself down on a coop, and seriously screwed up her mouth for the long neglected practice. She found her former ability to have degenerated to the production of a hollow rush of wind through the lips, and no clear note at all. ¡¡¡¡She remained fruitlessly blowing and blowing, wondering how she could have so grown out of the art which had come by nature, till she became aware of a movement among the ivy-boughs which cloaked the garden-wall no less than the cottage. Looking that way she beheld a form springing from the coping to the plot. It was Alec d'Urberville, whom she had not set eves on since he had conducted her the day before to the door of the gardener's cottage where she had lodgings.

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¡¡¡¡`Upon my honour!' cried he, `there was never before such a beautiful thing in Nature or Art as you look, "Cousin" Tess ["Cousin" had a faint ring of mockery]. I have been watching you from over the wall sitting - like Im-patience on a monument, and pouting up that pretty red mouth to whistling shape, and `whoaing and whoaing, and privately swearing, and never being able to produce a note. Why, you are quite cross because you can't do it.' ¡¡¡¡`I may be cross, but I didn't swear.' ¡¡¡¡`Ah! I understand why you are trying - those bullies! My mother wants you to carry on their musical education. How selfish of her! As if attending to these curst cocks and hens here were not enough work for any girl. I would flatly refuse, if I were you.' But she wants me particularly to do it, and to be ready by to-morrow morning.' ¡¡¡¡`Does she? Well then - I'll give you a lesson or two.' ¡¡¡¡`Oh no, you won't!' said Tess, withdrawing towards the door. ¡¡¡¡`Nonsense; I don't want to touch you. See - I'll stand on this side of the wire netting, and you can keep on the other; so you may feel quite safe. Now, look here; you screw up your lips too harshly. There 'tis - so.'

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a line of `Take, O take those lips away'. But the allusion was lost upon Tess. ¡¡¡¡`Now try,' said d'Urberville. ¡¡¡¡She attempted to look reserved; her face put on a sculptural severity. But he persisted in his demand, and at last, to get rid of him, she did put up her lips as directed for producing a clear note; laughing distressfully, however, and then blushing with vexation that she had laughed. ¡¡¡¡He encouraged her with `Try again!' ¡¡¡¡Tess was quite serious, painfully serious by this time; and she tried - ultimately and unexpectedly emitting a real round sound. The momentary pleasure of success got the better of her; her eyes enlarged, and she involuntarily smiled in his face. ¡¡¡¡`That's it! Now I have started you - you'll go on beautifully. There - I said I would not come near you; and, in spite of such temptation as never before fell to mortal man, I'll keep my word... Tess, do you think my mother a queer old soul?'

The Jewel Casket

I declare there's a holes in your stockings-heel!' said Tess. ¡¡¡¡`Never mind holes in your stockings - they don't speak! When I was a maid, so long as I had a pretty bonnet the devil might ha' found me in heels. ¡¡¡¡Her mother's pride in the girl's appearance led her to step back, like a painter from his easel, and survey her work as a whole. ¡¡¡¡`You must zee yourself!' she cried. `It is much better than you was t'other day.' ¡¡¡¡As the looking-glass was only large enough to reflect a very small portion of Tess's person at one time, Mrs Durbeyfield hung a black cloak outside the casement, and so made a large reflector of the panes, as it is the wont of bedecking cottagers to do. After this she went downstairs to her husband, who was sitting in the lower room. ¡¡¡¡`I'll tell 'ee what 'tis, Durbeyfield,' said she exultingly; `he'll never have the heart not to love her. But whatever you do, don't zay too much to Tess of his fancy for her, and this chance she has got. She is such an odd maid that it mid zet her against him, or against going there, even now. If all goes well, I shall certainly be for making some return to that pa'son at Stagfoot Lane for telling us - dear, good man!'

the Night Watch

However, as the moment for the girl's setting out drew nigh, when the first excitement of the dressing had passed off, a slight misgiving found place in Joan Durbeyfield's mind. It prompted the matron to say that she would walk a little way - as far as to the point where the acclivity from the valley began its first steep ascent to the outer world. At the top Tess was going to be met with the spring-cart sent by the Stoke-d'Urbervilles, and her box had already been wheeled ahead towards this summit by a lad with trucks, to be in readiness. ¡¡¡¡Seeing their mother put on her bonnet the younger children clamoured to go with her. ¡¡¡¡`I do want to walk a little ways wi' Sissy, now she's going to marry our gentleman-cousin, and wear fine cloze!' ¡¡¡¡`Now,' said Tess, flushing and turning quickly, `I'll hear no more o' that! Mother, how could you ever put such stuff into their heads

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Going to work, my dears, for our rich relation, and help get enough money for a new horse,' said Mrs Durbeyfield pacifically. ¡¡¡¡`Good-bye, father,' said Tess, with a lumpy throat. ¡¡¡¡`Good-bye, my maid,' said Sir John, raising his head from his breast as he suspended his nap, induced by a slight excess this morning in honour of the occasion. `Well, I hope my young friend will like such a comely sample of his own blood. And tell'n, Tess, that being sunk, quite, from our former grandeur, I'll sell him the title - yes, sell it - and at no onreasonable figure.' ¡¡¡¡`Not for less than a thousand pound!' cried Lady Durbeyfield. ¡¡¡¡`Tell'n - I'll take a thousand pound. Well, I'll take less, when I come to think o't. He'll adorn it better than a poor lammicken feller like myself can. Tell'n he shall hae it for a hundred. But I won't stand upon trifles - tell'n he shall hae it for fifty-for twenty pound! Yes, twenty pound - that's the lowest. Dammy, family honour is family honour, and I won't take a penny less!'

Venus and Cupid

Tess's eyes were too full and her voice too choked to utter the sentiments that were in her. She turned quickly, and went out. ¡¡¡¡So the girls and their mother all walked together, a child on each side of Tess, holding her hand, and looking at her meditatively from time to time, as at one who was about to do great things; her mother just behind with the smallest; the group forming a picture of honest beauty flanked by innocence, and backed by simple souled vanity. They followed the way till they reached the beginning of the ascent, on the crest of which the vehicle from Trantridge was to receive her, this limit having been fixed to save the horse the labour of the last slope. Far away behind the first hills the cliff-like dwellings of Shaston broke the line of the ridge. Nobody was visible in the elevated road which skirted the ascent save the lad whom they had sent on before them, sitting on the handle of the barrow that contained all Tess's worldly possessions.

A Greek Beauty

Bide here a bit, and the cart will soon come, no doubt,' said Mrs Durbeyfield. `Yes, I see it yonder!' ¡¡¡¡It had come - appearing suddenly from behind the forehead of the nearest upland, and stopping beside the boy with the barrow. Her mother and the children thereupon decided to go no farther, and bidding them a hasty goodbye Tess bent her steps up the hill. ¡¡¡¡They saw her white shape draw near to the spring-cart, on which her box was already placed. But before she had quite reached it another vehicle shot out from a clump of trees on the summit, came round the bend of the road there, passed the luggage-cart, and halted beside Tess, who looked up as if in great surprise. ¡¡¡¡Her mother perceived, for the first time, that the second vehicle was not a humble conveyance like the first, but a spick-and-span gig or dogcart, highly varnished and equipped. The driver was a young man of three or four-and-twenty, with a cigar between his teeth; wearing a dandy cap, drab Jacket, breeches of the same hue, white 'neckcloth, stickup collar, and brown driving - gloves - in short, he was the handsome, horsey young buck who had visited Joan a week or two before to get her answer about Tess.