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Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, CHAPTER XXIII

CHAPTER XXIII

A splendid Midsummer shone over England: skies so pure, suns so radiant as were then seen in long succession, seldom favour even singly, our wave-girt land. It was as if a band of Italian days had come from the South, like a flock of glorious passenger birds, and lighted to rest them on the cliffs of Albion. The hay was all got in; the fields round Thornfield were green and shorn; the roads white and baked; the trees were in their dark prime; hedge and wood, full-leaved and deeply tinted, contrasted well with the sunny hue of the cleared meadows between. On Midsummer-eve, Adèle, weary with gathering wild strawberries in Hay Lane half the day, had gone to bed with the sun. I watched her drop asleep, and when I left her, I sought the garden. It was now the sweetest hour of the twenty-four:—“Day its fervid fires had wasted,” and dew fell cool on panting plain and scorched summit. Where the sun had gone down in simple state—pure of the pomp of clouds—spread a solemn purple, burning with the light of red jewel and furnace flame at one point, on one hill-peak, and extending high and wide, soft and still softer, over half heaven. The east had its own charm or fine deep blue, and its own modest gem, a casino and solitary star: soon it would boast the moon; but she was yet beneath the horizon. I walked a while on the pavement; but a subtle, well-known scent—that of a cigar—stole from some window; I saw the library casement open a handbreadth; I knew I might be watched thence; so I went apart into the orchard. No nook in the grounds more sheltered and more Eden-like; it was full of trees, it bloomed with flowers: a very high wall shut it out from the court, on one side; on the other, a beech avenue screened it from the lawn. At the bottom was a sunk fence; its sole separation from lonely fields: a winding walk, bordered with laurels and terminating in a giant horse-chestnut, circled at the base by a seat, led down to the fence. Here one could wander unseen. While such honey-dew fell, such silence reigned, such gloaming gathered, I felt as if I could haunt such shade for ever; but in threading the flower and fruit parterres at the upper part of the enclosure, enticed there by the light the now rising moon cast on this more open quarter, my step is stayed—not by sound, not by sight, but once more by a warning fragrance. Sweet-briar and southernwood, jasmine, pink, and rose have long been yielding their evening sacrifice of incense: this new scent is neither of shrub nor flower; it is—I know it well—it is Mr. Rochester's cigar. I look round and I listen. I see trees laden with ripening fruit. I hear a nightingale warbling in a wood half a mile off; no moving form is visible, no coming step audible; but that perfume increases: I must flee. I make for the wicket leading to the shrubbery, and I see Mr. Rochester entering. I step aside into the ivy recess; he will not stay long: he will soon return whence he came, and if I sit still he will never see me. But no—eventide is as pleasant to him as to me, and this antique garden as attractive; and he strolls on, now lifting the gooseberry-tree branches to look at the fruit, large as plums, with which they are laden; now taking a ripe cherry from the wall; now stooping towards a knot of flowers, either to inhale their fragrance or to admire the dew-beads on their petals. A great moth goes humming by me; it alights on a plant at Mr. Rochester's foot: he sees it, and bends to examine it. “Now, he has his back towards me,” thought I, “and he is occupied too; perhaps, if I walk softly, I can slip away unnoticed.” I trode on an edging of turf that the crackle of the pebbly gravel might not betray me: he was standing among the beds at a yard or two distant from where I had to pass; the moth apparently engaged him. “I shall get by very well,” I meditated. As I crossed his shadow, thrown long over the garden by the moon, not yet risen high, he said quietly, without turning— “Jane, come and look at this fellow.”

I had made no noise: he had not eyes behind—could his shadow feel? I started at first, and then I approached him. “Look at his wings,” said he, “he reminds me rather of a West Indian insect; one does not often see so large and gay a night-rover in England; there! he is flown.” The moth roamed away.

I was sheepishly retreating also; but Mr. Rochester followed me, and when we reached the wicket, he said— “Turn back: on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the house; and surely no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus at meeting with moonrise.” It is one of my faults, that though my tongue is sometimes prompt enough at an answer, there are times when it sadly fails me in framing an excuse; and always the lapse occurs at some crisis, when a facile word or plausible pretext is specially wanted to get me out of painful embarrassment. I did not like to walk at this hour alone with Mr. Rochester in the shadowy orchard; but I could not find a reason to allege for leaving him. I followed with lagging step, and thoughts busily bent on discovering a means of extrication; but he himself looked so composed and so grave also, I became ashamed of feeling any confusion: the evil—if evil existent or prospective there was—seemed to lie with me only; his mind was unconscious and quiet. “Jane,” he recommenced, as we entered the laurel walk, and slowly strayed down in the direction of the sunk fence and the horse-chestnut, “Thornfield is a pleasant place in summer, is it not?” “Yes, sir.”

“You must have become in some degree attached to the house,—you, who have an eye for natural beauties, and a good deal of the organ of Adhesiveness?” “I am attached to it, indeed.”

“And though I don't comprehend how it is, I perceive you have acquired a degree of regard for that foolish little child Adèle, too; and even for simple dame Fairfax?” “Yes, sir; in different ways, I have an affection for both.” “And would be sorry to part with them?”

“Yes.”

“Pity!” he said, and sighed and paused.

“It is always the way of events in this life,” he continued presently: “no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired.” “Must I move on, sir?” I asked.

“Must I leave Thornfield?” “I believe you must, Jane.

I am sorry, Janet, but I believe indeed you must.” This was a blow: but I did not let it prostrate me.

“Well, sir, I shall be ready when the order to march comes.” “It is come now—I must give it to-night.” “Then you are going to be married, sir?” “Ex-act-ly—pre-cise-ly: with your usual acuteness, you have hit the nail straight on the head.”

“Soon, sir?”

“Very soon, my—that is, Miss Eyre: and you'll remember, Jane, the first time I, or Rumour, plainly intimated to you that it was my intention to put my old bachelor's neck into the sacred noose, to enter into the holy estate of matrimony—to take Miss Ingram to my bosom, in short (she's an extensive armful: but that's not to the point—one can't have too much of such a very excellent thing as my beautiful Blanche): well, as I was saying—listen to me, Jane! You're not turning your head to look after more moths, are you? That was only a lady-clock, child, ‘flying away home. ' I wish to remind you that it was you who first said to me, with that discretion I respect in you—with that foresight, prudence, and humility which befit your responsible and dependent position—that in case I married Miss Ingram, both you and little Adèle had better trot forthwith. I pass over the sort of slur conveyed in this suggestion on the character of my beloved; indeed, when you are far away, Janet, I'll try to forget it: I shall notice only its wisdom; which is such that I have made it my law of action. Adèle must go to school; and you, Miss Eyre, must get a new situation.” “Yes, sir, I will advertise immediately: and meantime, I suppose—” I was going to say, “I suppose I may stay here, till I find another shelter to betake myself to:” but I stopped, feeling it would not do to risk a long sentence, for my voice was not quite under command. “In about a month I hope to be a bridegroom,” continued Mr. Rochester; “and in the interim, I shall myself look out for employment and an asylum for you.” “Thank you, sir; I am sorry to give—”

“Oh, no need to apologise!

I consider that when a dependent does her duty as well as you have done yours, she has a sort of claim upon her employer for any little assistance he can conveniently render her; indeed I have already, through my future mother-in-law, heard of a place that I think will suit: it is to undertake the education of the five daughters of Mrs. Dionysius O'Gall of Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland. You'll like Ireland, I think: they're such warm-hearted people there, they say.” “It is a long way off, sir.”

“No matter—a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage or the distance.”

“Not the voyage, but the distance: and then the sea is a barrier—”

“From what, Jane?”

“From England and from Thornfield: and—”

“Well?”

“From you , sir.” I said this almost involuntarily, and, with as little sanction of free will, my tears gushed out.

I did not cry so as to be heard, however; I avoided sobbing. The thought of Mrs. O'Gall and Bitternutt Lodge struck cold to my heart; and colder the thought of all the brine and foam, destined, as it seemed, to rush between me and the master at whose side I now walked, and coldest the remembrance of the wider ocean—wealth, caste, custom intervened between me and what I naturally and inevitably loved. “It is a long way,” I again said.

“It is, to be sure; and when you get to Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland, I shall never see you again, Jane: that's morally certain. I never go over to Ireland, not having myself much of a fancy for the country. We have been good friends, Jane; have we not?” “Yes, sir.”

“And when friends are on the eve of separation, they like to spend the little time that remains to them close to each other. Come! we'll talk over the voyage and the parting quietly half-an-hour or so, while the stars enter into their shining life up in heaven yonder: here is the chestnut tree: here is the bench at its old roots. Come, we will sit there in peace to-night, though we should never more be destined to sit there together.” He seated me and himself. “It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little friend on such weary travels: but if I can't do better, how is it to be helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?” I could risk no sort of answer by this time: my heart was still. “Because,” he said, “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you—especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you,—you'd forget me.” “That I never should, sir: you know—” Impossible to proceed. “Jane, do you hear that nightingale singing in the wood? Listen!” In listening, I sobbed convulsively; for I could repress what I endured no longer; I was obliged to yield, and I was shaken from head to foot with acute distress. When I did speak, it was only to express an impetuous wish that I had never been born, or never come to Thornfield. “Because you are sorry to leave it?”

The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway, and asserting a right to predominate, to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last: yes,—and to speak. “I grieve to leave Thornfield: I love Thornfield:—I love it, because I have lived in it a full and delightful life,—momentarily at least. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have not been buried with inferior minds, and excluded from every glimpse of communion with what is bright and energetic and high. I have talked, face to face, with what I reverence, with what I delight in,—with an original, a vigorous, an expanded mind. I have known you, Mr. Rochester; and it strikes me with terror and anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from you for ever. I see the necessity of departure; and it is like looking on the necessity of death.” “Where do you see the necessity?” he asked suddenly. “Where?

You, sir, have placed it before me.” “In what shape?”

“In the shape of Miss Ingram; a noble and beautiful woman,—your bride.” “My bride!

What bride? I have no bride!” “But you will have.”

“Yes;—I will!—I will!” He set his teeth. “Then I must go:—you have said it yourself.” “No: you must stay!

I swear it—and the oath shall be kept.” “I tell you I must go!” I retorted, roused to something like passion. “Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton?—a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!—I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;—it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal,—as we are!” “As we are!” repeated Mr. Rochester—“so,” he added, enclosing me in his arms. Gathering me to his breast, pressing his lips on my lips: “so, Jane!” “Yes, so, sir,” I rejoined: “and yet not so; for you are a married man—or as good as a married man, and wed to one inferior to you—to one with whom you have no sympathy—whom I do not believe you truly love; for I have seen and heard you sneer at her. I would scorn such a union: therefore I am better than you—let me go!” “Where, Jane?

To Ireland?” “Yes—to Ireland.

I have spoken my mind, and can go anywhere now.” “Jane, be still; don't struggle so, like a wild frantic bird that is rending its own plumage in its desperation.” “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you.” Another effort set me at liberty, and I stood erect before him. “And your will shall decide your destiny,” he said: “I offer you my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions.” “You play a farce, which I merely laugh at.”

“I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.” “For that fate you have already made your choice, and must abide by it.” “Jane, be still a few moments: you are over-excited: I will be still too.” A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away—away—to an indefinite distance—it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr. Rochester sat quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. Some time passed before he spoke; he at last said— “Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another.” “I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot return.” “But, Jane, I summon you as my wife: it is you only I intend to marry.” I was silent: I thought he mocked me.

“Come, Jane—come hither.”

“Your bride stands between us.”

He rose, and with a stride reached me.

“My bride is here,” he said, again drawing me to him, “because my equal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me?” Still I did not answer, and still I writhed myself from his grasp: for I was still incredulous. “Do you doubt me, Jane?”

“Entirely.”

“You have no faith in me?”

“Not a whit.”

“Am I a liar in your eyes?” he asked passionately. “Little sceptic, you shall be convinced. What love have I for Miss Ingram? None: and that you know. What love has she for me? None: as I have taken pains to prove: I caused a rumour to reach her that my fortune was not a third of what was supposed, and after that I presented myself to see the result; it was coldness both from her and her mother. I would not—I could not—marry Miss Ingram. You—you strange, you almost unearthly thing!—I love as my own flesh. You—poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are—I entreat to accept me as a husband.” “What, me!” I ejaculated, beginning in his earnestness—and especially in his incivility—to credit his sincerity: “me who have not a friend in the world but you—if you are my friend: not a shilling but what you have given me?” “You, Jane, I must have you for my own—entirely my own.

Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly.” “Mr.

Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight.” “Why?”

“Because I want to read your countenance—turn!” “There!

you will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled, scratched page. Read on: only make haste, for I suffer.” His face was very much agitated and very much flushed, and there were strong workings in the features, and strange gleams in the eyes. “Oh, Jane, you torture me!” he exclaimed.

“With that searching and yet faithful and generous look, you torture me!” “How can I do that?

If you are true, and your offer real, my only feelings to you must be gratitude and devotion—they cannot torture.” “Gratitude!” he ejaculated; and added wildly—“Jane accept me quickly. Say, Edward—give me my name—Edward—I will marry you.” “Are you in earnest?

Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wish me to be your wife?” “I do; and if an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it.” “Then, sir, I will marry you.”

“Edward—my little wife!”

“Dear Edward!”

“Come to me—come to me entirely now,” said he; and added, in his deepest tone, speaking in my ear as his cheek was laid on mine, “Make my happiness—I will make yours.” “God pardon me!” he subjoined ere long; “and man meddle not with me: I have her, and will hold her.”

“There is no one to meddle, sir.

I have no kindred to interfere.” “No—that is the best of it,” he said.

And if I had loved him less I should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage; but, sitting by him, roused from the nightmare of parting—called to the paradise of union—I thought only of the bliss given me to drink in so abundant a flow. Again and again he said, “Are you happy, Jane?” And again and again I answered, “Yes.” After which he murmured, “It will atone—it will atone. Have I not found her friendless, and cold, and comfortless? Will I not guard, and cherish, and solace her? Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgment—I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion—I defy it.” But what had befallen the night?

The moon was not yet set, and we were all in shadow: I could scarcely see my master's face, near as I was. And what ailed the chestnut tree? it writhed and groaned; while wind roared in the laurel walk, and came sweeping over us. “We must go in,” said Mr. Rochester: “the weather changes. I could have sat with thee till morning, Jane.” “And so,” thought I, “could I with you.” I should have said so, perhaps, but a livid, vivid spark leapt out of a cloud at which I was looking, and there was a crack, a crash, and a close rattling peal; and I thought only of hiding my dazzled eyes against Mr. Rochester's shoulder. The rain rushed down.

He hurried me up the walk, through the grounds, and into the house; but we were quite wet before we could pass the threshold. He was taking off my shawl in the hall, and shaking the water out of my loosened hair, when Mrs. Fairfax emerged from her room. I did not observe her at first, nor did Mr. Rochester. The lamp was lit. The clock was on the stroke of twelve. “Hasten to take off your wet things,” said he; “and before you go, good-night—good-night, my darling!” He kissed me repeatedly.

When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed. I only smiled at her, and ran upstairs. “Explanation will do for another time,” thought I. Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen. But joy soon effaced every other feeling; and loud as the wind blew, near and deep as the thunder crashed, fierce and frequent as the lightning gleamed, cataract-like as the rain fell during a storm of two hours' duration, I experienced no fear and little awe. Mr. Rochester came thrice to my door in the course of it, to ask if I was safe and tranquil: and that was comfort, that was strength for anything. Before I left my bed in the morning, little Adèle came running in to tell me that the great horse-chestnut at the bottom of the orchard had been struck by lightning in the night, and half of it split away.

CHAPTER XXIII CAPÍTULO XXIII ГЛАВА XXIII BÖLÜM XXIII

A splendid Midsummer shone over England: skies so pure, suns so radiant as were then seen in long succession, seldom favour even singly, our wave-girt land. A splendid Midsummer shone over England: skies so pure, suns so radiant as were then seen in long succession, seldom favour even singly, our wave-girt land. Un beau milieu d'été brillait sur l'Angleterre: des cieux si purs, des soleils si radieux qu'on les voyait alors en longue succession, favorisent rarement, même seuls, notre terre ondulée. It was as if a band of Italian days had come from the South, like a flock of glorious passenger birds, and lighted to rest them on the cliffs of Albion. It was as if a band of Italian days had come from the South, like a flock of glorious passenger birds, and lighted to rest them on the cliffs of Albion. C'était comme si une bande de jours italiens était venue du sud, comme une volée de glorieux oiseaux passagers, et allumée pour les reposer sur les falaises d'Albion. The hay was all got in; the fields round Thornfield were green and shorn; the roads white and baked; the trees were in their dark prime; hedge and wood, full-leaved and deeply tinted, contrasted well with the sunny hue of the cleared meadows between. The hay was all got in; the fields round Thornfield were green and shorn; the roads white and baked; the trees were in their dark prime; hedge and wood, full-leaved and deeply tinted, contrasted well with the sunny hue of the cleared meadows between. Le foin était tout rentré; les champs autour de Thornfield étaient verts et tondus; les routes blanches et cuites; les arbres étaient à leur apogée sombre; la haie et le bois, pleins et profondément teintés, contrastaient bien avec la teinte ensoleillée des prairies dégagées entre elles. On Midsummer-eve, Adèle, weary with gathering wild strawberries in Hay Lane half the day, had gone to bed with the sun. Le soir de la Saint-Jean, Adèle, fatiguée de cueillir des fraises des bois à Hay Lane une demi-journée, s'était couchée avec le soleil. I watched her drop asleep, and when I left her, I sought the garden. Je l'ai regardée s'endormir, et quand je l'ai quittée, j'ai cherché le jardin. It was now the sweetest hour of the twenty-four:—“Day its fervid fires had wasted,” and dew fell cool on panting plain and scorched summit. C'était maintenant l'heure la plus douce des vingt-quatre: - «Jour perdu ses feux ardents», et la rosée se refroidit sur un sommet plat et brûlé haletant. Where the sun had gone down in simple state—pure of the pomp of clouds—spread a solemn purple, burning with the light of red jewel and furnace flame at one point, on one hill-peak, and extending high and wide, soft and still softer, over half heaven. Là où le soleil s'était couché à l'état simple - pur de la pompe des nuages - répandait un violet solennel, brûlant de la lumière du joyau rouge et de la flamme du four en un point, sur un sommet de la colline, et s'étendant haut et large, doux et encore plus doux, plus de la moitié du ciel. The east had its own charm or fine deep blue, and its own modest gem, a casino and solitary star: soon it would boast the moon; but she was yet beneath the horizon. L'Orient avait son propre charme ou un beau bleu profond, et son propre joyau modeste, un casino et une étoile solitaire: bientôt il se vanterait de la lune; mais elle était encore sous l'horizon. I walked a while on the pavement; but a subtle, well-known scent—that of a cigar—stole from some window; I saw the library casement open a handbreadth; I knew I might be watched thence; so I went apart into the orchard. J'ai marché un moment sur le trottoir; mais un parfum subtil et bien connu, celui d'un cigare, volait à quelque fenêtre; J'ai vu le battant de la bibliothèque ouvrir une largeur de main; Je savais que je pourrais être surveillé de là; alors je me suis séparé dans le verger. No nook in the grounds more sheltered and more Eden-like; it was full of trees, it bloomed with flowers: a very high wall shut it out from the court, on one side; on the other, a beech avenue screened it from the lawn. No nook in the grounds more sheltered and more Eden-like; it was full of trees, it bloomed with flowers: a very high wall shut it out from the court, on one side; on the other, a beech avenue screened it from the lawn. Aucun recoin dans le parc plus abrité et plus Eden; elle était pleine d'arbres, elle fleurissait de fleurs: un mur très haut la cachait d'un côté de la cour; de l'autre, une allée de hêtres le masquait de la pelouse. At the bottom was a sunk fence; its sole separation from lonely fields: a winding walk, bordered with laurels and terminating in a giant horse-chestnut, circled at the base by a seat, led down to the fence. Au fond, une clôture coulée; sa seule séparation d'avec les champs solitaires: un chemin sinueux, bordé de lauriers et se terminant par un marronnier géant, entouré à la base par un siège, conduit à la clôture. Here one could wander unseen. While such honey-dew fell, such silence reigned, such gloaming gathered, I felt as if I could haunt such shade for ever; but in threading the flower and fruit parterres at the upper part of the enclosure, enticed there by the light the now rising moon cast on this more open quarter, my step is stayed—not by sound, not by sight, but once more by a warning fragrance. Tandis qu'une telle rosée de miel tombait, un tel silence régnait, une telle joie se rassemblait, je me sentais comme si je pouvais hanter une telle ombre pour toujours; mais en enfilant les parterres de fleurs et de fruits à la partie supérieure de l'enceinte, attirés là par la lumière que la lune maintenant montante jetait sur ce quartier plus ouvert, mon pas est arrêté - non par le son, non par la vue, mais encore par un parfum d'avertissement. Sweet-briar and southernwood, jasmine, pink, and rose have long been yielding their evening sacrifice of incense: this new scent is neither of shrub nor flower; it is—I know it well—it is Mr. Rochester’s cigar. Sweet-briar and southernwood, jasmine, pink, and rose have long been yielding their evening sacrifice of incense: this new scent is neither of shrub nor flower; it is—I know it well—it is Mr. Rochester's cigar. La bruyère et le bois du sud, le jasmin, le rose et la rose ont depuis longtemps offert leur sacrifice d'encens du soir: ce nouveau parfum n'est ni arbuste ni fleur; c'est - je le sais bien - c'est le cigare de M. Rochester. I look round and I listen. I see trees laden with ripening fruit. I hear a nightingale warbling in a wood half a mile off; no moving form is visible, no coming step audible; but that perfume increases: I must flee. I hear a nightingale warbling in a wood half a mile off; no moving form is visible, no coming step audible; but that perfume increases: I must flee. I make for the wicket leading to the shrubbery, and I see Mr. Rochester entering. Je me dirige vers le guichet menant aux buissons, et je vois entrer M. Rochester. I step aside into the ivy recess; he will not stay long: he will soon return whence he came, and if I sit still he will never see me. Je m'écarte dans le renfoncement de lierre; il ne restera pas longtemps: il reviendra bientôt d'où il est venu, et si je reste immobile, il ne me verra jamais. But no—eventide is as pleasant to him as to me, and this antique garden as attractive; and he strolls on, now lifting the gooseberry-tree branches to look at the fruit, large as plums, with which they are laden; now taking a ripe cherry from the wall; now stooping towards a knot of flowers, either to inhale their fragrance or to admire the dew-beads on their petals. A great moth goes humming by me; it alights on a plant at Mr. Rochester’s foot: he sees it, and bends to examine it. Un grand papillon de nuit fredonne à côté de moi; il se pose sur une plante au pied de M. Rochester: il la voit et se penche pour l'examiner. “Now, he has his back towards me,” thought I, “and he is occupied too; perhaps, if I walk softly, I can slip away unnoticed.” I trode on an edging of turf that the crackle of the pebbly gravel might not betray me: he was standing among the beds at a yard or two distant from where I had to pass; the moth apparently engaged him. J'ai marché sur une bordure de gazon que le crépitement du gravier caillouteux ne pouvait pas me trahir: il se tenait parmi les lits à un mètre ou deux de là où je devais passer; le papillon de nuit l'a apparemment engagé. “I shall get by very well,” I meditated. «Je m'en sortirai très bien», ai-je médité. As I crossed his shadow, thrown long over the garden by the moon, not yet risen high, he said quietly, without turning— Alors que je traversais son ombre, projeté depuis longtemps sur le jardin par la lune, pas encore levé haut, dit-il doucement, sans se retourner - “Jane, come and look at this fellow.”

I had made no noise: he had not eyes behind—could his shadow feel? Je n'avais fait aucun bruit: il n'avait pas d'yeux derrière - son ombre pouvait-elle sentir? I started at first, and then I approached him. J'ai commencé au début, puis je l'ai approché. “Look at his wings,” said he, “he reminds me rather of a West Indian insect; one does not often see so large and gay a night-rover in England; there! «Regardez ses ailes», dit-il, «il me rappelle plutôt un insecte antillais; on ne voit pas souvent un vagabond aussi grand et gai en Angleterre; Là! he is flown.” il est piloté. The moth roamed away. Le papillon s'est éloigné.

I was sheepishly retreating also; but Mr. Rochester followed me, and when we reached the wicket, he said— Je me retirais aussi penaudement; mais M. Rochester m'a suivi, et quand nous sommes arrivés au guichet, il a dit: “Turn back: on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the house; and surely no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus at meeting with moonrise.” «Faites demi-tour: par une si belle nuit, c'est dommage de s'asseoir dans la maison; et sûrement personne ne peut souhaiter aller se coucher alors que le coucher du soleil est donc à la rencontre du lever de la lune. It is one of my faults, that though my tongue is sometimes prompt enough at an answer, there are times when it sadly fails me in framing an excuse; and always the lapse occurs at some crisis, when a facile word or plausible pretext is specially wanted to get me out of painful embarrassment. C'est un de mes défauts, que bien que ma langue soit parfois assez prompt à une réponse, il y a des moments où je ne parviens malheureusement pas à formuler une excuse; et toujours la faute se produit lors d'une crise, quand un mot facile ou un prétexte plausible est spécialement voulu pour me sortir d'un embarras douloureux. I did not like to walk at this hour alone with Mr. Rochester in the shadowy orchard; but I could not find a reason to allege for leaving him. Je n'aimais pas marcher à cette heure seul avec M. Rochester dans le verger ombragé; mais je n'ai pas trouvé de raison d'alléguer son départ. I followed with lagging step, and thoughts busily bent on discovering a means of extrication; but he himself looked so composed and so grave also, I became ashamed of feeling any confusion: the evil—if evil existent or prospective there was—seemed to lie with me only; his mind was unconscious and quiet. J'ai suivi avec un pas en retard, et des pensées occupées à découvrir un moyen de dégagement; mais lui-même avait l'air si calme et si grave aussi, j'ai eu honte de ressentir la moindre confusion: le mal - s'il y avait du mal ou du futur - semblait n'être que de moi; son esprit était inconscient et calme. “Jane,” he recommenced, as we entered the laurel walk, and slowly strayed down in the direction of the sunk fence and the horse-chestnut, “Thornfield is a pleasant place in summer, is it not?” «Jane», recommença-t-il, alors que nous entrions dans la promenade des lauriers et nous nous éloignions lentement en direction de la clôture coulée et du marronnier, «Thornfield est un endroit agréable en été, n'est-ce pas? “Yes, sir.”

“You must have become in some degree attached to the house,—you, who have an eye for natural beauties, and a good deal of the organ of Adhesiveness?” "Vous avez dû vous attacher à la maison dans une certaine mesure, vous qui avez l'œil pour les beautés naturelles et une bonne dose de l'organe de l'adhésivité ? “I am attached to it, indeed.”

“And though I don’t comprehend how it is, I perceive you have acquired a degree of regard for that foolish little child Adèle, too; and even for simple dame Fairfax?” «Et même si je ne comprends pas comment c'est, je vois que vous avez aussi acquis une certaine considération pour cette petite enfant insensée Adèle; et même pour la simple dame Fairfax? “Yes, sir; in different ways, I have an affection for both.” “And would be sorry to part with them?”

“Yes.”

“Pity!” he said, and sighed and paused.

“It is always the way of events in this life,” he continued presently: “no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired.” «C'est toujours le chemin des événements dans cette vie», continua-t-il tout à l'heure: «à peine vous êtes-vous installés dans un lieu de repos agréable, qu'une voix vous appelle à vous lever et à avancer, car l'heure du repos est expiré." “Must I move on, sir?” I asked.

“Must I leave Thornfield?” “I believe you must, Jane.

I am sorry, Janet, but I believe indeed you must.” This was a blow: but I did not let it prostrate me. C'était un coup dur: mais je ne l'ai pas laissé me prosterner.

“Well, sir, I shall be ready when the order to march comes.” "Eh bien, monsieur, je serai prêt lorsque l'ordre de marche sera donné." “It is come now—I must give it to-night.” «Il est venu maintenant - je dois le donner ce soir. “Then you are going to be married, sir?” “Ex-act-ly—pre-cise-ly: with your usual acuteness, you have hit the nail straight on the head.” «Exactement, précisement: avec votre acuité habituelle, vous avez frappé le clou droit sur la tête.

“Soon, sir?”

“Very soon, my—that is, Miss Eyre: and you’ll remember, Jane, the first time I, or Rumour, plainly intimated to you that it was my intention to put my old bachelor’s neck into the sacred noose, to enter into the holy estate of matrimony—to take Miss Ingram to my bosom, in short (she’s an extensive armful: but that’s not to the point—one can’t have too much of such a very excellent thing as my beautiful Blanche): well, as I was saying—listen to me, Jane! «Très bientôt, ma… c'est-à-dire Miss Eyre: et vous vous souviendrez, Jane, de la première fois que moi, ou Rumor, vous ai clairement indiqué que j'avais l'intention de mettre le cou de mon vieux célibataire dans l'étau sacré, dans le domaine sacré du mariage - pour emmener Miss Ingram dans mon sein, en bref (elle est une brassée étendue: mais ce n'est pas au point - on ne peut pas avoir trop d'une chose aussi excellente que ma belle Blanche): eh bien , comme je le disais, écoutez-moi, Jane! You’re not turning your head to look after more moths, are you? Vous ne tournez pas la tête pour vous occuper de plus de mites, n'est-ce pas? That was only a lady-clock, child, ‘flying away home. Ce n'était qu'une horloge de dame, enfant, «s'envolant chez elle. '  I wish to remind you that it was you who first said to me, with that discretion I respect in you—with that foresight, prudence, and humility which befit your responsible and dependent position—that in case I married Miss Ingram, both you and little Adèle had better trot forthwith. `` Je tiens à vous rappeler que c'est vous qui m'avez dit le premier, avec cette discrétion que je respecte en vous - avec cette prévoyance, cette prudence et cette humilité qui sied à votre position responsable et dépendante - que dans le cas où j'épouserais Miss Ingram, vous et la petite Adèle ferait mieux de trotter aussitôt. I pass over the sort of slur conveyed in this suggestion on the character of my beloved; indeed, when you are far away, Janet, I’ll try to forget it: I shall notice only its wisdom; which is such that I have made it my law of action. Je passe sur le genre d'insulte véhiculé dans cette suggestion sur le caractère de ma bien-aimée; en effet, quand tu seras loin, Janet, j'essaierai de l'oublier: je ne remarquerai que sa sagesse; ce qui est tel que j'en ai fait ma loi d'action. Adèle must go to school; and you, Miss Eyre, must get a new situation.” “Yes, sir, I will advertise immediately: and meantime, I suppose—” I was going to say, “I suppose I may stay here, till I find another shelter to betake myself to:” but I stopped, feeling it would not do to risk a long sentence, for my voice was not quite under command. "J'allais dire : " Je suppose que je peux rester ici, jusqu'à ce que je trouve un autre abri où me réfugier ", mais je m'arrêtai, sentant qu'il ne fallait pas risquer une longue phrase, car ma voix n'était pas tout à fait maîtrisée. “In about a month I hope to be a bridegroom,” continued Mr. Rochester; “and in the interim, I shall myself look out for employment and an asylum for you.” «Dans environ un mois, j'espère être marié», a poursuivi M. Rochester; «Et en attendant, je chercherai moi-même un emploi et un asile pour vous.» “Thank you, sir; I am sorry to give—”

“Oh, no need to apologise!

I consider that when a dependent does her duty as well as you have done yours, she has a sort of claim upon her employer for any little assistance he can conveniently render her; indeed I have already, through my future mother-in-law, heard of a place that I think will suit: it is to undertake the education of the five daughters of Mrs. Dionysius O’Gall of Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland. Je considère que lorsqu'une personne à charge fait son devoir aussi bien que vous avez fait le vôtre, elle a une sorte de réclamation sur son employeur pour le peu d'aide qu'il peut commodément lui rendre; en effet, j'ai déjà, par l'intermédiaire de ma future belle-mère, entendu parler d'un endroit qui, je pense, conviendra: c'est pour entreprendre l'éducation des cinq filles de Mme Dionysius O'Gall de Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Irlande. You’ll like Ireland, I think: they’re such warm-hearted people there, they say.” Vous aimerez l'Irlande, je pense: ce sont des gens tellement chaleureux là-bas, disent-ils. “It is a long way off, sir.” «C'est loin, monsieur.

“No matter—a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage or the distance.” «Peu importe, une fille de votre sens ne s'opposera pas au voyage ou à la distance.

“Not the voyage, but the distance: and then the sea is a barrier—”

“From what, Jane?”

“From England and from Thornfield: and—”

“Well?”

“From you , sir.” I said this almost involuntarily, and, with as little sanction of free will, my tears gushed out. Je l'ai dit presque involontairement, et, avec aussi peu de sanction du libre arbitre, mes larmes ont jailli.

I did not cry so as to be heard, however; I avoided sobbing. Je n'ai pas pleuré pour être entendu, cependant; J'ai évité de sangloter. The thought of Mrs. O’Gall and Bitternutt Lodge struck cold to my heart; and colder the thought of all the brine and foam, destined, as it seemed, to rush between me and the master at whose side I now walked, and coldest the remembrance of the wider ocean—wealth, caste, custom intervened between me and what I naturally and inevitably loved. La pensée de Mme O'Gall et de Bitternutt Lodge m'a frappé le cœur; et plus froide la pensée de toute la saumure et de la mousse, destinée, comme il semblait, à se précipiter entre moi et le maître au côté duquel je marchais maintenant, et le plus froid le souvenir de l'océan plus large - la richesse, la caste, la coutume intervenaient entre moi et ce J'ai aimé naturellement et inévitablement. “It is a long way,” I again said.

“It is, to be sure; and when you get to Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland, I shall never see you again, Jane: that’s morally certain. I never go over to Ireland, not having myself much of a fancy for the country. Je ne vais jamais en Irlande, n'ayant pas vraiment envie du pays. We have been good friends, Jane; have we not?” “Yes, sir.”

“And when friends are on the eve of separation, they like to spend the little time that remains to them close to each other. Come! we’ll talk over the voyage and the parting quietly half-an-hour or so, while the stars enter into their shining life up in heaven yonder: here is the chestnut tree: here is the bench at its old roots. nous parlerons du voyage et de la séparation tranquillement une demi-heure environ, pendant que les étoiles entrent dans leur vie brillante là-haut dans le ciel: voici le marronnier: voici le banc à ses vieilles racines. Come, we will sit there in peace to-night, though we should never more be destined to sit there together.”  He seated me and himself. Venez, nous nous asseyons là en paix ce soir, même si nous ne devrions plus jamais être destinés à nous asseoir ensemble. Il s'est assis moi et lui-même. “It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little friend on such weary travels: but if I can’t do better, how is it to be helped? «C'est un long chemin vers l'Irlande, Janet, et je suis désolé d'envoyer mon petit ami faire des voyages aussi fatigués: mais si je ne peux pas faire mieux, comment l'aider? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?” Êtes-vous quelque chose qui me ressemble, pensez-vous, Jane? I could risk no sort of answer by this time: my heart was still. Je ne pouvais risquer aucune sorte de réponse à ce moment-là: mon cœur était immobile. “Because,” he said, “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you—especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. «Parce que, dit-il, j'ai parfois un sentiment étrange à votre égard, surtout quand vous êtes près de moi, comme maintenant: c'est comme si j'avais une corde quelque part sous mes côtes gauches, étroitement et inextricablement nouée à un semblable string situé dans le quart correspondant de votre petit cadre. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. Et si ce canal tumultueux et environ deux cents milles de terre s'étendent entre nous, je crains que la corde de la communion ne se rompe; et puis j'ai une idée nerveuse que je devrais prendre pour saigner intérieurement. As for you,—you’d forget me.” “That I never should, sir: you know—”  Impossible to proceed. “Jane, do you hear that nightingale singing in the wood? "Jane, entends-tu le rossignol qui chante dans la forêt ? Listen!” In listening, I sobbed convulsively; for I could repress what I endured no longer; I was obliged to yield, and I was shaken from head to foot with acute distress. En écoutant, j'ai sangloté convulsivement; car je pouvais réprimer ce que je n'endurais plus; Je fus obligé de céder, et je fus secoué des pieds à la tête avec une détresse aiguë. When I did speak, it was only to express an impetuous wish that I had never been born, or never come to Thornfield. Lorsque je parlais, c'était seulement pour exprimer le souhait impétueux de n'être jamais née, ou de ne jamais être venue à Thornfield. “Because you are sorry to leave it?”

The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway, and asserting a right to predominate, to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last: yes,—and to speak. La véhémence de l'émotion, agitée par le chagrin et l'amour en moi, revendiquait la maîtrise, luttait pour l'emporter pleinement, affirmait le droit de prédominer, de vaincre, de vivre, de s'élever et de régner enfin: oui, - et de parler. “I grieve to leave Thornfield: I love Thornfield:—I love it, because I have lived in it a full and delightful life,—momentarily at least. «Je pleure de quitter Thornfield: j'aime Thornfield: - je l'aime, parce que j'y ai vécu une vie pleine et délicieuse, - du moins momentanément. I have not been trampled on. Je n'ai pas été piétiné. I have not been petrified. Je n'ai pas été pétrifié. I have not been buried with inferior minds, and excluded from every glimpse of communion with what is bright and energetic and high. Je n'ai pas été enterré avec des esprits inférieurs, et exclu de tout aperçu de communion avec ce qui est brillant, énergique et élevé. I have talked, face to face, with what I reverence, with what I delight in,—with an original, a vigorous, an expanded mind. J'ai parlé, face à face, avec ce que je vénère, avec quoi je prends plaisir, - avec un esprit original, vigoureux, élargi. I have known you, Mr. Rochester; and it strikes me with terror and anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from you for ever. Je vous ai connu, monsieur Rochester; et cela me frappe de terreur et d'angoisse de sentir que je dois absolument être arraché à vous pour toujours. I see the necessity of departure; and it is like looking on the necessity of death.” “Where do you see the necessity?” he asked suddenly. “Where?

You, sir, have placed it before me.” Vous, monsieur, l'avez placé devant moi. “In what shape?” «Sous quelle forme?»

“In the shape of Miss Ingram; a noble and beautiful woman,—your bride.” "En la personne de Mlle Ingram, une femme noble et belle, votre épouse." “My bride!

What bride? I have no bride!” “But you will have.”

“Yes;—I will!—I will!”  He set his teeth. "Oui, je le ferai, je le ferai. Il serra les dents. “Then I must go:—you have said it yourself.” "Alors je dois partir : tu l'as dit toi-même." “No: you must stay!

I swear it—and the oath shall be kept.” Je le jure - et le serment sera tenu. “I tell you I must go!” I retorted, roused to something like passion. «Je vous dis que je dois y aller!» J'ai rétorqué, excité par quelque chose comme la passion. “Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? «Pensez-vous que je puisse rester pour ne rien devenir pour vous? Do you think I am an automaton?—a machine without feelings? Pensez-vous que je suis un automate? - une machine sans sentiments? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? et peut supporter d'avoir mon morceau de pain arraché de mes lèvres, et ma goutte d'eau vive jaillit de ma coupe? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? Pensez-vous que, parce que je suis pauvre, obscur, simple et petit, je suis sans âme et sans cœur? You think wrong!—I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. Et si Dieu m'avait donné une certaine beauté et beaucoup de richesses, j'aurais dû vous empêcher de me quitter, comme c'est maintenant pour moi de vous quitter. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;—it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet, equal,—as we are!” Je ne vous parle pas maintenant par le biais de la coutume, des conventions, ni même de la chair mortelle: c'est mon esprit qui s'adresse à votre esprit; comme si les deux avaient traversé la tombe, et que nous nous tenions aux pieds de Dieu, égaux, comme nous le sommes! “As we are!” repeated Mr. Rochester—“so,” he added, enclosing me in his arms. Gathering me to his breast, pressing his lips on my lips: “so, Jane!” “Yes, so, sir,” I rejoined: “and yet not so; for you are a married man—or as good as a married man, and wed to one inferior to you—to one with whom you have no sympathy—whom I do not believe you truly love; for I have seen and heard you sneer at her. «Oui, donc, monsieur,» je répondis: «et pourtant pas ainsi; car vous êtes un homme marié - ou aussi bon qu'un homme marié, et marié à un inférieur à vous - à un homme avec lequel vous n'avez aucune sympathie - que je ne crois pas que vous aimez vraiment; car je vous ai vu et entendu vous moquer d'elle. I would scorn such a union: therefore I am better than you—let me go!” Je mépriserais une telle union: donc je suis meilleur que vous - laissez-moi partir! “Where, Jane?

To Ireland?” “Yes—to Ireland.

I have spoken my mind, and can go anywhere now.” J'ai dit ce que je pensais et je peux aller n'importe où maintenant". “Jane, be still; don’t struggle so, like a wild frantic bird that is rending its own plumage in its desperation.” «Jane, sois tranquille; ne lutte pas ainsi, comme un oiseau sauvage et effréné qui déchire son propre plumage dans son désespoir. “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you.” «Je ne suis pas un oiseau; et aucun filet ne me prend au piège; Je suis un être humain libre avec une volonté indépendante, que je m'efforce maintenant de vous quitter. Another effort set me at liberty, and I stood erect before him. Un autre effort m'a mis en liberté et je me suis tenu debout devant lui. “And your will shall decide your destiny,” he said: “I offer you my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions.” «Et ta volonté décidera de ton destin», dit-il: «Je t'offre ma main, mon cœur et une part de tous mes biens.» “You play a farce, which I merely laugh at.” «Vous jouez une farce dont je ris simplement.

“I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.” «Je vous demande de passer la vie à mes côtés - d'être mon second moi et mon meilleur compagnon terrestre.» “For that fate you have already made your choice, and must abide by it.” «Pour ce destin, vous avez déjà fait votre choix et vous devez le respecter.» “Jane, be still a few moments: you are over-excited: I will be still too.” "Jane, reste tranquille quelques instants : tu es trop excitée : Je vais me calmer aussi." A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away—away—to an indefinite distance—it died. Une vague de vent vint balayer le chemin des lauriers et trembla à travers les branches du châtaignier: il s'éloigna - loin - à une distance indéfinie - il mourut. The nightingale’s song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr. Rochester sat quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. Some time passed before he spoke; he at last said— “Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another.” "Venez à mes côtés, Jane, et laissez-nous nous expliquer et nous comprendre." “I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot return.” «Je ne reviendrai plus jamais à vos côtés: je suis déchiré maintenant et je ne peux plus revenir. “But, Jane, I summon you as my wife: it is you only I intend to marry.” «Mais, Jane, je t'appelle comme ma femme: c'est toi seule que j'ai l'intention de me marier. I was silent: I thought he mocked me.

“Come, Jane—come hither.” "Viens, Jane, viens ici."

“Your bride stands between us.” "Votre épouse se tient entre nous."

He rose, and with a stride reached me. Il se leva et me rejoignit d'un pas.

“My bride is here,” he said, again drawing me to him, “because my equal is here, and my likeness. «Mon épouse est ici», dit-il, m'attirant de nouveau vers lui, «parce que mon égal est ici, et ma ressemblance. Jane, will you marry me?” Still I did not answer, and still I writhed myself from his grasp: for I was still incredulous. Je ne répondis toujours pas, et je me tordais encore de sa prise: car j'étais encore incrédule. “Do you doubt me, Jane?”

“Entirely.”

“You have no faith in me?” «Tu n'as pas confiance en moi?»

“Not a whit.” "Pas du tout."

“Am I a liar in your eyes?” he asked passionately. “Little sceptic, you shall be convinced. «Petit sceptique, vous serez convaincu. What love have I for Miss Ingram? Quel amour ai-je pour Miss Ingram? None: and that you know. What love has she for me? None: as I have taken pains to prove: I caused a rumour to reach her that my fortune was not a third of what was supposed, and after that I presented myself to see the result; it was coldness both from her and her mother. Aucun: comme j'ai pris soin de le prouver: je lui ai fait parvenir une rumeur selon laquelle ma fortune n'était pas un tiers de ce qui était supposé, et après cela je me suis présenté pour voir le résultat; c'était la froideur d'elle et de sa mère. I would not—I could not—marry Miss Ingram. You—you strange, you almost unearthly thing!—I love as my own flesh. Toi - étrange, espèce de chose presque surnaturelle! - j'aime comme ma propre chair. You—poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are—I entreat to accept me as a husband.” Toi, pauvre et obscur, petit et simple comme tu es, je te supplie de m'accepter comme mari. “What, me!” I ejaculated, beginning in his earnestness—and especially in his incivility—to credit his sincerity: “me who have not a friend in the world but you—if you are my friend: not a shilling but what you have given me?” "Quoi, moi!" J'ai éjaculé, commençant dans son sérieux - et surtout dans son incivilité - à créditer sa sincérité: «moi qui n'ai pas d'ami au monde mais toi - si tu es mon ami: pas un shilling mais ce que tu m'as donné? “You, Jane, I must have you for my own—entirely my own. «Toi, Jane, je dois t'avoir pour moi - entièrement pour moi.

Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly.” “Mr.

Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight.” “Why?”

“Because I want to read your countenance—turn!” "Parce que je veux lire le tour de votre visage !" “There!

you will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled, scratched page. vous la trouverez à peine plus lisible qu'une page froissée et rayée. Read on: only make haste, for I suffer.” Lisez la suite : dépêchez-vous, car je souffre". His face was very much agitated and very much flushed, and there were strong workings in the features, and strange gleams in the eyes. Son visage était très agité et très rougi, et il y avait un fort fonctionnement dans les traits et d'étranges lueurs dans les yeux. “Oh, Jane, you torture me!” he exclaimed.

“With that searching and yet faithful and generous look, you torture me!” «Avec ce regard chercheur mais fidèle et généreux, vous me torturez!» “How can I do that?

If you are true, and your offer real, my only feelings to you must be gratitude and devotion—they cannot torture.” Si vous êtes sincère et que votre offre est réelle, mes seuls sentiments à votre égard doivent être la gratitude et la dévotion - ils ne peuvent pas torturer". “Gratitude!” he ejaculated; and added wildly—“Jane accept me quickly. "Gratitude !" s'écria-t-il, et il ajouta sauvagement : "Jane m'accepte rapidement. Say, Edward—give me my name—Edward—I will marry you.” “Are you in earnest?

Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wish me to be your wife?” “I do; and if an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it.” "Je fais; et si un serment est nécessaire pour vous satisfaire, je le jure. “Then, sir, I will marry you.”

“Edward—my little wife!”

“Dear Edward!”

“Come to me—come to me entirely now,” said he; and added, in his deepest tone, speaking in my ear as his cheek was laid on mine, “Make my happiness—I will make yours.” "Et il ajouta, de son ton le plus grave, en me parlant à l'oreille, tandis que sa joue se posait sur la mienne : "Faites mon bonheur, je ferai le vôtre". “God pardon me!” he subjoined ere long; “and man meddle not with me: I have her, and will hold her.” «Dieu me pardonne!» il a rejoint bientôt; "Et l'homme ne se mêle pas de moi: je l'ai et je la tiendrai."

“There is no one to meddle, sir. «Il n'y a personne à qui se mêler, monsieur.

I have no kindred to interfere.” Je n'ai aucune parenté pour interférer. “No—that is the best of it,” he said.

And if I had loved him less I should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage; but, sitting by him, roused from the nightmare of parting—called to the paradise of union—I thought only of the bliss given me to drink in so abundant a flow. Et si je l'avais moins aimé, j'aurais cru son accent et son air d'exultation sauvages; mais, assis à côté de lui, réveillé du cauchemar de la séparation - appelé au paradis de l'union - je ne pensais qu'à la béatitude qui m'était donnée à boire dans un flux si abondant. Again and again he said, “Are you happy, Jane?”  And again and again I answered, “Yes.”  After which he murmured, “It will atone—it will atone. Encore et encore, il a dit: «Êtes-vous heureuse, Jane?» Et encore et encore, j'ai répondu: "Oui." Après quoi il murmura: «Cela expiera - cela expiera. Have I not found her friendless, and cold, and comfortless? Ne l'ai-je pas trouvée sans amis, froide et sans confort? Will I not guard, and cherish, and solace her? Ne vais-je pas la garder, la chérir et la réconforter Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? N'y a-t-il pas de l'amour dans mon cœur et de la constance dans mes résolutions? It will expiate at God’s tribunal. Il expiera au tribunal de Dieu. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. Je sais que mon Maker sanctionne ce que je fais. For the world’s judgment—I wash my hands thereof. Pour le jugement du monde - je m'en lave les mains. For man’s opinion—I defy it.” Pour ce qui est de l'opinion des hommes, je la défie." But what had befallen the night? Mais qu'était-il arrivé cette nuit?

The moon was not yet set, and we were all in shadow: I could scarcely see my master’s face, near as I was. La lune n'était pas encore couchée, et nous étions tous dans l'ombre : je pouvais à peine voir le visage de mon maître, tout près de moi. And what ailed the chestnut tree? Et qu'est-ce qui a affecté le châtaignier? it writhed and groaned; while wind roared in the laurel walk, and came sweeping over us. il se tordit et gémit; tandis que le vent rugissait dans la marche des lauriers, et venait nous balayer. “We must go in,” said Mr. Rochester: “the weather changes. I could have sat with thee till morning, Jane.” J'aurais pu m'asseoir avec toi jusqu'au matin, Jane." “And so,” thought I, “could I with you.”  I should have said so, perhaps, but a livid, vivid spark leapt out of a cloud at which I was looking, and there was a crack, a crash, and a close rattling peal; and I thought only of hiding my dazzled eyes against Mr. Rochester’s shoulder. «Et ainsi, pensai-je, je pourrais avec toi. J'aurais peut-être dû le dire, mais une étincelle livide et vive jaillit d'un nuage que je regardais, et il y eut une fissure, un fracas et un grincement serré; et je ne pensais qu'à cacher mes yeux éblouis contre l'épaule de M. Rochester. The rain rushed down.

He hurried me up the walk, through the grounds, and into the house; but we were quite wet before we could pass the threshold. He was taking off my shawl in the hall, and shaking the water out of my loosened hair, when Mrs. Fairfax emerged from her room. Il enlevait mon châle dans le couloir et secouait l'eau de mes cheveux déchaussés, quand Mme Fairfax sortit de sa chambre. I did not observe her at first, nor did Mr. Rochester. The lamp was lit. La lampe était allumée. The clock was on the stroke of twelve. L'horloge était sur le coup de midi. “Hasten to take off your wet things,” said he; “and before you go, good-night—good-night, my darling!” "Dépêche-toi d'enlever tes affaires mouillées, dit-il, et avant de partir, bonne nuit, bonne nuit, ma chérie ! He kissed me repeatedly.

When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed. Quand je levai les yeux, en quittant ses bras, se tenait la veuve, pâle, grave et étonnée. I only smiled at her, and ran upstairs. “Explanation will do for another time,” thought I.  Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen. "Pourtant, lorsque j'atteignis ma chambre, je ressentis une douleur à l'idée qu'elle puisse, même temporairement, se méprendre sur ce qu'elle avait vu. But joy soon effaced every other feeling; and loud as the wind blew, near and deep as the thunder crashed, fierce and frequent as the lightning gleamed, cataract-like as the rain fell during a storm of two hours' duration, I experienced no fear and little awe. Mais la joie effaça bientôt tout autre sentiment; et fort comme le vent soufflait, proche et profond lorsque le tonnerre se brisait, féroce et fréquent comme l'éclair luisait, semblable à une cataracte alors que la pluie tombait pendant une tempête de deux heures, je n'éprouvais aucune peur et peu de respect. Mr. Rochester came thrice to my door in the course of it, to ask if I was safe and tranquil: and that was comfort, that was strength for anything. M. Rochester est venu trois fois à ma porte au cours de cela, pour me demander si j'étais en sécurité et tranquille: et c'était le confort, c'était la force de tout. Before I left my bed in the morning, little Adèle came running in to tell me that the great horse-chestnut at the bottom of the orchard had been struck by lightning in the night, and half of it split away. Avant de quitter mon lit le matin, la petite Adèle accourut pour me dire que le grand marronnier d'Inde au fond du verger avait été frappé par la foudre dans la nuit, et la moitié se séparait.