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Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, CHAPTER XXXIV-b

CHAPTER XXXIV-b

One day I had come to my studies in lower spirits than usual; the ebb was occasioned by a poignantly felt disappointment. Hannah had told me in the morning there was a letter for me, and when I went down to take it, almost certain that the long-looked for tidings were vouchsafed me at last, I found only an unimportant note from Mr. Briggs on business. The bitter check had wrung from me some tears; and now, as I sat poring over the crabbed characters and flourishing tropes of an Indian scribe, my eyes filled again. St.

John called me to his side to read; in attempting to do this my voice failed me: words were lost in sobs. He and I were the only occupants of the parlour: Diana was practising her music in the drawing-room, Mary was gardening—it was a very fine May day, clear, sunny, and breezy. My companion expressed no surprise at this emotion, nor did he question me as to its cause; he only said— “We will wait a few minutes, Jane, till you are more composed.” And while I smothered the paroxysm with all haste, he sat calm and patient, leaning on his desk, and looking like a physician watching with the eye of science an expected and fully understood crisis in a patient's malady. Having stifled my sobs, wiped my eyes, and muttered something about not being very well that morning, I resumed my task, and succeeded in completing it. St.

John put away my books and his, locked his desk, and said— “Now, Jane, you shall take a walk; and with me.” “I will call Diana and Mary.”

“No; I want only one companion this morning, and that must be you. Put on your things; go out by the kitchen-door: take the road towards the head of Marsh Glen: I will join you in a moment.” I know no medium: I never in my life have known any medium in my dealings with positive, hard characters, antagonistic to my own, between absolute submission and determined revolt. I have always faithfully observed the one, up to the very moment of bursting, sometimes with volcanic vehemence, into the other; and as neither present circumstances warranted, nor my present mood inclined me to mutiny, I observed careful obedience to St. John's directions; and in ten minutes I was treading the wild track of the glen, side by side with him. The breeze was from the west: it came over the hills, sweet with scents of heath and rush; the sky was of stainless blue; the stream descending the ravine, swelled with past spring rains, poured along plentiful and clear, catching golden gleams from the sun, and sapphire tints from the firmament. As we advanced and left the track, we trod a soft turf, mossy fine and emerald green, minutely enamelled with a tiny white flower, and spangled with a star-like yellow blossom: the hills, meantime, shut us quite in; for the glen, towards its head, wound to their very core. “Let us rest here,” said St.

John, as we reached the first stragglers of a battalion of rocks, guarding a sort of pass, beyond which the beck rushed down a waterfall; and where, still a little farther, the mountain shook off turf and flower, had only heath for raiment and crag for gem—where it exaggerated the wild to the savage, and exchanged the fresh for the frowning—where it guarded the forlorn hope of solitude, and a last refuge for silence. I took a seat: St.

John stood near me. He looked up the pass and down the hollow; his glance wandered away with the stream, and returned to traverse the unclouded heaven which coloured it: he removed his hat, let the breeze stir his hair and kiss his brow. He seemed in communion with the genius of the haunt: with his eye he bade farewell to something. “And I shall see it again,” he said aloud, “in dreams when I sleep by the Ganges: and again in a more remote hour—when another slumber overcomes me—on the shore of a darker stream!” Strange words of a strange love!

An austere patriot's passion for his fatherland! He sat down; for half-an-hour we never spoke; neither he to me nor I to him: that interval past, he recommenced— “Jane, I go in six weeks; I have taken my berth in an East Indiaman which sails on the 20th of June.” “God will protect you; for you have undertaken His work,” I answered. “Yes,” said he, “there is my glory and joy. I am the servant of an infallible Master. I am not going out under human guidance, subject to the defective laws and erring control of my feeble fellow-worms: my king, my lawgiver, my captain, is the All-perfect. It seems strange to me that all round me do not burn to enlist under the same banner,—to join in the same enterprise.” “All have not your powers, and it would be folly for the feeble to wish to march with the strong.”

“I do not speak to the feeble, or think of them: I address only such as are worthy of the work, and competent to accomplish it.” “Those are few in number, and difficult to discover.” “You say truly; but when found, it is right to stir them up—to urge and exhort them to the effort—to show them what their gifts are, and why they were given—to speak Heaven's message in their ear,—to offer them, direct from God, a place in the ranks of His chosen.” “If they are really qualified for the task, will not their own hearts be the first to inform them of it?” I felt as if an awful charm was framing round and gathering over me: I trembled to hear some fatal word spoken which would at once declare and rivet the spell. “And what does your heart say?” demanded St. John. “My heart is mute,—my heart is mute,” I answered, struck and thrilled. “Then I must speak for it,” continued the deep, relentless voice. “Jane, come with me to India: come as my helpmeet and fellow-labourer.” The glen and sky spun round: the hills heaved!

It was as if I had heard a summons from Heaven—as if a visionary messenger, like him of Macedonia, had enounced, “Come over and help us!” But I was no apostle,—I could not behold the herald,—I could not receive his call. “Oh, St.

John!” I cried, “have some mercy!” I appealed to one who, in the discharge of what he believed his duty, knew neither mercy nor remorse. He continued— “God and nature intended you for a missionary's wife. It is not personal, but mental endowments they have given you: you are formed for labour, not for love. A missionary's wife you must—shall be. You shall be mine: I claim you—not for my pleasure, but for my Sovereign's service.” “I am not fit for it: I have no vocation,” I said. He had calculated on these first objections: he was not irritated by them. Indeed, as he leaned back against the crag behind him, folded his arms on his chest, and fixed his countenance, I saw he was prepared for a long and trying opposition, and had taken in a stock of patience to last him to its close—resolved, however, that that close should be conquest for him. “Humility, Jane,” said he, “is the groundwork of Christian virtues: you say right that you are not fit for the work. Who is fit for it? Or who, that ever was truly called, believed himself worthy of the summons? I, for instance, am but dust and ashes. With St. Paul, I acknowledge myself the chiefest of sinners; but I do not suffer this sense of my personal vileness to daunt me. I know my Leader: that He is just as well as mighty; and while He has chosen a feeble instrument to perform a great task, He will, from the boundless stores of His providence, supply the inadequacy of the means to the end. Think like me, Jane—trust like me. It is the Rock of Ages I ask you to lean on: do not doubt but it will bear the weight of your human weakness.” “I do not understand a missionary life: I have never studied missionary labours.” “There I, humble as I am, can give you the aid you want: I can set you your task from hour to hour; stand by you always; help you from moment to moment. This I could do in the beginning: soon (for I know your powers) you would be as strong and apt as myself, and would not require my help.” “But my powers—where are they for this undertaking? I do not feel them. Nothing speaks or stirs in me while you talk. I am sensible of no light kindling—no life quickening—no voice counselling or cheering. Oh, I wish I could make you see how much my mind is at this moment like a rayless dungeon, with one shrinking fear fettered in its depths—the fear of being persuaded by you to attempt what I cannot accomplish!” “I have an answer for you—hear it.

I have watched you ever since we first met: I have made you my study for ten months. I have proved you in that time by sundry tests: and what have I seen and elicited? In the village school I found you could perform well, punctually, uprightly, labour uncongenial to your habits and inclinations; I saw you could perform it with capacity and tact: you could win while you controlled. In the calm with which you learnt you had become suddenly rich, I read a mind clear of the vice of Demas:—lucre had no undue power over you. In the resolute readiness with which you cut your wealth into four shares, keeping but one to yourself, and relinquishing the three others to the claim of abstract justice, I recognised a soul that revelled in the flame and excitement of sacrifice. In the tractability with which, at my wish, you forsook a study in which you were interested, and adopted another because it interested me; in the untiring assiduity with which you have since persevered in it—in the unflagging energy and unshaken temper with which you have met its difficulties—I acknowledge the complement of the qualities I seek. Jane, you are docile, diligent, disinterested, faithful, constant, and courageous; very gentle, and very heroic: cease to mistrust yourself—I can trust you unreservedly. As a conductress of Indian schools, and a helper amongst Indian women, your assistance will be to me invaluable.” My iron shroud contracted round me; persuasion advanced with slow sure step. Shut my eyes as I would, these last words of his succeeded in making the way, which had seemed blocked up, comparatively clear. My work, which had appeared so vague, so hopelessly diffuse, condensed itself as he proceeded, and assumed a definite form under his shaping hand. He waited for an answer. I demanded a quarter of an hour to think, before I again hazarded a reply. “Very willingly,” he rejoined; and rising, he strode a little distance up the pass, threw himself down on a swell of heath, and there lay still. “I can do what he wants me to do: I am forced to see and acknowledge that,” I meditated,—“that is, if life be spared me. But I feel mine is not the existence to be long protracted under an Indian sun. What then? He does not care for that: when my time came to die, he would resign me, in all serenity and sanctity, to the God who gave me. The case is very plain before me. In leaving England, I should leave a loved but empty land—Mr. Rochester is not there; and if he were, what is, what can that ever be to me? My business is to live without him now: nothing so absurd, so weak as to drag on from day to day, as if I were waiting some impossible change in circumstances, which might reunite me to him. Of course (as St. John once said) I must seek another interest in life to replace the one lost: is not the occupation he now offers me truly the most glorious man can adopt or God assign? Is it not, by its noble cares and sublime results, the one best calculated to fill the void left by uptorn affections and demolished hopes? I believe I must say, Yes—and yet I shudder. Alas! If I join St. John, I abandon half myself: if I go to India, I go to premature death. And how will the interval between leaving England for India, and India for the grave, be filled? Oh, I know well! That, too, is very clear to my vision. By straining to satisfy St. John till my sinews ache, I shall satisfy him—to the finest central point and farthest outward circle of his expectations. If I do go with him—if I do make the sacrifice he urges, I will make it absolutely: I will throw all on the altar—heart, vitals, the entire victim. He will never love me; but he shall approve me; I will show him energies he has not yet seen, resources he has never suspected. Yes, I can work as hard as he can, and with as little grudging. “Consent, then, to his demand is possible: but for one item—one dreadful item. It is—that he asks me to be his wife, and has no more of a husband's heart for me than that frowning giant of a rock, down which the stream is foaming in yonder gorge. He prizes me as a soldier would a good weapon; and that is all. Unmarried to him, this would never grieve me; but can I let him complete his calculations—coolly put into practice his plans—go through the wedding ceremony? Can I receive from him the bridal ring, endure all the forms of love (which I doubt not he would scrupulously observe) and know that the spirit was quite absent? Can I bear the consciousness that every endearment he bestows is a sacrifice made on principle? No: such a martyrdom would be monstrous. I will never undergo it. As his sister, I might accompany him—not as his wife: I will tell him so.” I looked towards the knoll: there he lay, still as a prostrate column; his face turned to me: his eye beaming watchful and keen. He started to his feet and approached me. “I am ready to go to India, if I may go free.”

“Your answer requires a commentary,” he said; “it is not clear.” “You have hitherto been my adopted brother—I, your adopted sister: let us continue as such: you and I had better not marry.”

He shook his head.

“Adopted fraternity will not do in this case. If you were my real sister it would be different: I should take you, and seek no wife. But as it is, either our union must be consecrated and sealed by marriage, or it cannot exist: practical obstacles oppose themselves to any other plan. Do you not see it, Jane? Consider a moment—your strong sense will guide you.” I did consider; and still my sense, such as it was, directed me only to the fact that we did not love each other as man and wife should: and therefore it inferred we ought not to marry. I said so. “St.

John,” I returned, “I regard you as a brother—you, me as a sister: so let us continue.” “We cannot—we cannot,” he answered, with short, sharp determination: “it would not do. You have said you will go with me to India: remember—you have said that.” “Conditionally.”

“Well—well.

To the main point—the departure with me from England, the co-operation with me in my future labours—you do not object. You have already as good as put your hand to the plough: you are too consistent to withdraw it. You have but one end to keep in view—how the work you have undertaken can best be done. Simplify your complicated interests, feelings, thoughts, wishes, aims; merge all considerations in one purpose: that of fulfilling with effect—with power—the mission of your great Master. To do so, you must have a coadjutor: not a brother—that is a loose tie—but a husband. I, too, do not want a sister: a sister might any day be taken from me. I want a wife: the sole helpmeet I can influence efficiently in life, and retain absolutely till death.” I shuddered as he spoke: I felt his influence in my marrow—his hold on my limbs. “Seek one elsewhere than in me, St.

John: seek one fitted to you.” “One fitted to my purpose, you mean—fitted to my vocation. Again I tell you it is not the insignificant private individual—the mere man, with the man's selfish senses—I wish to mate: it is the missionary.” “And I will give the missionary my energies—it is all he wants—but not myself: that would be only adding the husk and shell to the kernel. For them he has no use: I retain them.” “You cannot—you ought not.

Do you think God will be satisfied with half an oblation? Will He accept a mutilated sacrifice? It is the cause of God I advocate: it is under His standard I enlist you. I cannot accept on His behalf a divided allegiance: it must be entire.” “Oh!

I will give my heart to God,” I said. “ You do not want it.” I will not swear, reader, that there was not something of repressed sarcasm both in the tone in which I uttered this sentence, and in the feeling that accompanied it. I had silently feared St. John till now, because I had not understood him. He had held me in awe, because he had held me in doubt. How much of him was saint, how much mortal, I could not heretofore tell: but revelations were being made in this conference: the analysis of his nature was proceeding before my eyes. I saw his fallibilities: I comprehended them. I understood that, sitting there where I did, on the bank of heath, and with that handsome form before me, I sat at the feet of a man, caring as I. The veil fell from his hardness and despotism. Having felt in him the presence of these qualities, I felt his imperfection and took courage. I was with an equal—one with whom I might argue—one whom, if I saw good, I might resist. He was silent after I had uttered the last sentence, and I presently risked an upward glance at his countenance. His eye, bent on me, expressed at once stern surprise and keen inquiry.

“Is she sarcastic, and sarcastic to me !” it seemed to say. “What does this signify?” “Do not let us forget that this is a solemn matter,” he said ere long; “one of which we may neither think nor talk lightly without sin. I trust, Jane, you are in earnest when you say you will serve your heart to God: it is all I want. Once wrench your heart from man, and fix it on your Maker, the advancement of that Maker's spiritual kingdom on earth will be your chief delight and endeavour; you will be ready to do at once whatever furthers that end. You will see what impetus would be given to your efforts and mine by our physical and mental union in marriage: the only union that gives a character of permanent conformity to the destinies and designs of human beings; and, passing over all minor caprices—all trivial difficulties and delicacies of feeling—all scruple about the degree, kind, strength or tenderness of mere personal inclination—you will hasten to enter into that union at once.” “Shall I?” I said briefly; and I looked at his features, beautiful in their harmony, but strangely formidable in their still severity; at his brow, commanding but not open; at his eyes, bright and deep and searching, but never soft; at his tall imposing figure; and fancied myself in idea his wife . Oh!

it would never do! As his curate, his comrade, all would be right: I would cross oceans with him in that capacity; toil under Eastern suns, in Asian deserts with him in that office; admire and emulate his courage and devotion and vigour; accommodate quietly to his masterhood; smile undisturbed at his ineradicable ambition; discriminate the Christian from the man: profoundly esteem the one, and freely forgive the other. I should suffer often, no doubt, attached to him only in this capacity: my body would be under rather a stringent yoke, but my heart and mind would be free. I should still have my unblighted self to turn to: my natural unenslaved feelings with which to communicate in moments of loneliness. There would be recesses in my mind which would be only mine, to which he never came, and sentiments growing there fresh and sheltered which his austerity could never blight, nor his measured warrior-march trample down: but as his wife—at his side always, and always restrained, and always checked—forced to keep the fire of my nature continually low, to compel it to burn inwardly and never utter a cry, though the imprisoned flame consumed vital after vital— this would be unendurable. “St.

John!” I exclaimed, when I had got so far in my meditation. “Well?” he answered icily.

“I repeat I freely consent to go with you as your fellow-missionary, but not as your wife; I cannot marry you and become part of you.” “A part of me you must become,” he answered steadily; “otherwise the whole bargain is void. How can I, a man not yet thirty, take out with me to India a girl of nineteen, unless she be married to me? How can we be for ever together—sometimes in solitudes, sometimes amidst savage tribes—and unwed?” “Very well,” I said shortly; “under the circumstances, quite as well as if I were either your real sister, or a man and a clergyman like yourself.” “It is known that you are not my sister; I cannot introduce you as such: to attempt it would be to fasten injurious suspicions on us both. And for the rest, though you have a man's vigorous brain, you have a woman's heart and—it would not do.” “It would do,” I affirmed with some disdain, “perfectly well. I have a woman's heart, but not where you are concerned; for you I have only a comrade's constancy; a fellow-soldier's frankness, fidelity, fraternity, if you like; a neophyte's respect and submission to his hierophant: nothing more—don't fear.” “It is what I want,” he said, speaking to himself; “it is just what I want.

And there are obstacles in the way: they must be hewn down. Jane, you would not repent marrying me—be certain of that; we must be married. I repeat it: there is no other way; and undoubtedly enough of love would follow upon marriage to render the union right even in your eyes.” “I scorn your idea of love,” I could not help saying, as I rose up and stood before him, leaning my back against the rock. “I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer: yes, St. John, and I scorn you when you offer it.” He looked at me fixedly, compressing his well-cut lips while he did so. Whether he was incensed or surprised, or what, it was not easy to tell: he could command his countenance thoroughly. “I scarcely expected to hear that expression from you,” he said: “I think I have done and uttered nothing to deserve scorn.” I was touched by his gentle tone, and overawed by his high, calm mien. “Forgive me the words, St.

John; but it is your own fault that I have been roused to speak so unguardedly. You have introduced a topic on which our natures are at variance—a topic we should never discuss: the very name of love is an apple of discord between us. If the reality were required, what should we do? How should we feel? My dear cousin, abandon your scheme of marriage—forget it.” “No,” said he; “it is a long-cherished scheme, and the only one which can secure my great end: but I shall urge you no further at present. To-morrow, I leave home for Cambridge: I have many friends there to whom I should wish to say farewell. I shall be absent a fortnight—take that space of time to consider my offer: and do not forget that if you reject it, it is not me you deny, but God. Through my means, He opens to you a noble career; as my wife only can you enter upon it. Refuse to be my wife, and you limit yourself for ever to a track of selfish ease and barren obscurity. Tremble lest in that case you should be numbered with those who have denied the faith, and are worse than infidels!” He had done.

Turning from me, he once more “Looked to river, looked to hill.”

But this time his feelings were all pent in his heart: I was not worthy to hear them uttered. As I walked by his side homeward, I read well in his iron silence all he felt towards me: the disappointment of an austere and despotic nature, which has met resistance where it expected submission—the disapprobation of a cool, inflexible judgment, which has detected in another feelings and views in which it has no power to sympathise: in short, as a man, he would have wished to coerce me into obedience: it was only as a sincere Christian he bore so patiently with my perversity, and allowed so long a space for reflection and repentance. That night, after he had kissed his sisters, he thought proper to forget even to shake hands with me, but left the room in silence. I—who, though I had no love, had much friendship for him—was hurt by the marked omission: so much hurt that tears started to my eyes. “I see you and St.

John have been quarrelling, Jane,” said Diana, “during your walk on the moor. But go after him; he is now lingering in the passage expecting you—he will make it up.” I have not much pride under such circumstances: I would always rather be happy than dignified; and I ran after him—he stood at the foot of the stairs. “Good-night, St.

John,” said I. “Good-night, Jane,” he replied calmly.

“Then shake hands,” I added.

What a cold, loose touch, he impressed on my fingers!

He was deeply displeased by what had occurred that day; cordiality would not warm, nor tears move him. No happy reconciliation was to be had with him—no cheering smile or generous word: but still the Christian was patient and placid; and when I asked him if he forgave me, he answered that he was not in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation; that he had nothing to forgive, not having been offended. And with that answer he left me.

I would much rather he had knocked me down.

CHAPTER XXXIV-b ГЛАВА XXXIV-б BÖLÜM XXXIV-b

One day I had come to my studies in lower spirits than usual; the ebb was occasioned by a poignantly felt disappointment. Un jour, j'étais venu à mes études avec un moral plus bas que d'habitude; le reflux a été occasionné par une déception poignante. Hannah had told me in the morning there was a letter for me, and when I went down to take it, almost certain that the long-looked for tidings were vouchsafed me at last, I found only an unimportant note from Mr. Briggs on business. Hannah m'avait dit le matin qu'il y avait une lettre pour moi, et quand je suis descendu pour la prendre, presque certain que les nouvelles longtemps recherchées m'avaient enfin été garanties, je n'ai trouvé qu'une note sans importance de M. Briggs pour affaires. . The bitter check had wrung from me some tears; and now, as I sat poring over the crabbed characters and flourishing tropes of an Indian scribe, my eyes filled again. The bitter check had wrung from me some tears; and now, as I sat poring over the crabbed characters and flourishing tropes of an Indian scribe, my eyes filled again. Le chèque amer m'avait arraché quelques larmes; et maintenant, alors que je m'assis en train de regarder les personnages en crabe et les tropes florissants d'un scribe indien, mes yeux se sont à nouveau remplis. St.

John called me to his side to read; in attempting to do this my voice failed me: words were lost in sobs. He and I were the only occupants of the parlour: Diana was practising her music in the drawing-room, Mary was gardening—it was a very fine May day, clear, sunny, and breezy. He and I were the only occupants of the parlour: Diana was practising her music in the drawing-room, Mary was gardening—it was a very fine May day, clear, sunny, and breezy. My companion expressed no surprise at this emotion, nor did he question me as to its cause; he only said— My companion expressed no surprise at this emotion, nor did he question me as to its cause; he only said— “We will wait a few minutes, Jane, till you are more composed.”  And while I smothered the paroxysm with all haste, he sat calm and patient, leaning on his desk, and looking like a physician watching with the eye of science an expected and fully understood crisis in a patient’s malady. “We will wait a few minutes, Jane, till you are more composed.” And while I smothered the paroxysm with all haste, he sat calm and patient, leaning on his desk, and looking like a physician watching with the eye of science an expected and fully understood crisis in a patient's malady. «Nous attendrons quelques minutes, Jane, jusqu'à ce que vous soyez plus calme. Et tandis que j'étouffais le paroxysme avec toute la hâte, il était assis calme et patient, appuyé sur son bureau, et ressemblant à un médecin observant avec l'œil de la science une crise attendue et parfaitement comprise dans la maladie d'un patient. Having stifled my sobs, wiped my eyes, and muttered something about not being very well that morning, I resumed my task, and succeeded in completing it. Having stifled my sobs, wiped my eyes, and muttered something about not being very well that morning, I resumed my task, and succeeded in completing it. Après avoir étouffé mes sanglots, essuyé mes yeux et murmuré quelque chose de ne pas aller très bien ce matin-là, j'ai repris ma tâche et j'ai réussi à l'achever. St.

John put away my books and his, locked his desk, and said— “Now, Jane, you shall take a walk; and with me.” “I will call Diana and Mary.”

“No; I want only one companion this morning, and that must be you. Put on your things; go out by the kitchen-door: take the road towards the head of Marsh Glen: I will join you in a moment.” Put on your things; go out by the kitchen-door: take the road towards the head of Marsh Glen: I will join you in a moment.” Mettez vos affaires; sortez par la porte de la cuisine: prenez la route vers la tête de Marsh Glen: je vous rejoindrai dans un instant. I know no medium: I never in my life have known any medium in my dealings with positive, hard characters, antagonistic to my own, between absolute submission and determined revolt. I know no medium: I never in my life have known any medium in my dealings with positive, hard characters, antagonistic to my own, between absolute submission and determined revolt. Je ne connais aucun médium: je n'ai jamais connu de ma vie de médium dans mes relations avec des personnages positifs, durs, antagonistes aux miens, entre soumission absolue et révolte déterminée. I have always faithfully observed the one, up to the very moment of bursting, sometimes with volcanic vehemence, into the other; and as neither present circumstances warranted, nor my present mood inclined me to mutiny, I observed careful obedience to St. I have always faithfully observed the one, up to the very moment of bursting, sometimes with volcanic vehemence, into the other; and as neither present circumstances warranted, nor my present mood inclined me to mutiny, I observed careful obedience to St. J'ai toujours observé fidèlement l'un, jusqu'au moment même de l'éclatement, parfois avec une véhémence volcanique, dans l'autre; et comme ni les circonstances présentes ne le justifiaient, ni mon humeur actuelle ne m'inclinant à la mutinerie, j'ai observé une obéissance prudente à St. John’s directions; and in ten minutes I was treading the wild track of the glen, side by side with him. John's directions; and in ten minutes I was treading the wild track of the glen, side by side with him. Les instructions de John; et en dix minutes je foulais la piste sauvage du vallon, côte à côte avec lui. The breeze was from the west: it came over the hills, sweet with scents of heath and rush; the sky was of stainless blue; the stream descending the ravine, swelled with past spring rains, poured along plentiful and clear, catching golden gleams from the sun, and sapphire tints from the firmament. La brise venait de l'ouest: elle traversait les collines, douce avec des senteurs de bruyère et de jonc; le ciel était d'un bleu inoxydable; le ruisseau descendant le ravin, gonflé des pluies printanières passées, se déversait abondamment et clair, capturant les reflets dorés du soleil et les teintes saphir du firmament. As we advanced and left the track, we trod a soft turf, mossy fine and emerald green, minutely enamelled with a tiny white flower, and spangled with a star-like yellow blossom: the hills, meantime, shut us quite in; for the glen, towards its head, wound to their very core. As we advanced and left the track, we trod a soft turf, mossy fine and emerald green, minutely enamelled with a tiny white flower, and spangled with a star-like yellow blossom: the hills, meantime, shut us quite in; for the glen, towards its head, wound to their very core. Au fur et à mesure que nous avançions et quittions la piste, nous foulions un gazon mou, moussu fin et vert émeraude, minutieusement émaillé d'une minuscule fleur blanche, et étoilé d'une fleur jaune en forme d'étoile: les collines, quant à elles, nous enfermaient tout à fait; pour le vallon, vers sa tête, enroulé jusqu'au cœur. “Let us rest here,” said St.

John, as we reached the first stragglers of a battalion of rocks, guarding a sort of pass, beyond which the beck rushed down a waterfall; and where, still a little farther, the mountain shook off turf and flower, had only heath for raiment and crag for gem—where it exaggerated the wild to the savage, and exchanged the fresh for the frowning—where it guarded the forlorn hope of solitude, and a last refuge for silence. John, alors que nous atteignions les premiers traînards d'un bataillon de roches, gardant une sorte de col, au-delà duquel le pont se précipita vers une cascade; et où, encore un peu plus loin, la montagne secouait le gazon et la fleur, n'avait que la bruyère pour le vêtement et le rocher pour la gemme - où elle exagéra le sauvage au sauvage, et échangeait le frais contre le froncement des sourcils - où elle gardait l'espoir désespéré de la solitude et un dernier refuge pour le silence. I took a seat: St.

John stood near me. He looked up the pass and down the hollow; his glance wandered away with the stream, and returned to traverse the unclouded heaven which coloured it: he removed his hat, let the breeze stir his hair and kiss his brow. Il regarda le col et le creux; son regard s'éloigna avec le ruisseau, et revint traverser le ciel dégagé qui le colorait: il ôta son chapeau, laissa la brise remuer ses cheveux et lui baiser le front. He seemed in communion with the genius of the haunt: with his eye he bade farewell to something. He seemed in communion with the genius of the haunt: with his eye he bade farewell to something. Il semblait en communion avec le génie de la hantise: de son œil il fit ses adieux à quelque chose. “And I shall see it again,” he said aloud, “in dreams when I sleep by the Ganges: and again in a more remote hour—when another slumber overcomes me—on the shore of a darker stream!” “And I shall see it again,” he said aloud, “in dreams when I sleep by the Ganges: and again in a more remote hour—when another slumber overcomes me—on the shore of a darker stream!” «Et je le reverrai,» dit-il à haute voix, «dans les rêves quand je dors au bord du Gange: et de nouveau à une heure plus reculée - quand un autre sommeil me vaincra - au bord d'un ruisseau plus sombre! Strange words of a strange love! Etranges paroles d'un étrange amour !

An austere patriot’s passion for his fatherland! La passion d'un patriote austère pour sa patrie! He sat down; for half-an-hour we never spoke; neither he to me nor I to him: that interval past, he recommenced— “Jane, I go in six weeks; I have taken my berth in an East Indiaman which sails on the 20th of June.” "Jane, je pars dans six semaines ; j'ai pris ma place dans un East Indiaman qui part le 20 juin. “God will protect you; for you have undertaken His work,” I answered. «Dieu vous protégera; car vous avez entrepris son œuvre », répondis-je. “Yes,” said he, “there is my glory and joy. I am the servant of an infallible Master. I am not going out under human guidance, subject to the defective laws and erring control of my feeble fellow-worms: my king, my lawgiver, my captain, is the All-perfect. Je ne sors pas sous la direction humaine, soumis aux lois défectueuses et au contrôle erroné de mes faibles compagnons-vers: mon roi, mon législateur, mon capitaine, est le Tout-parfait. It seems strange to me that all round me do not burn to enlist under the same banner,—to join in the same enterprise.” Il me semble étrange que tout autour de moi ne brûle pas de s'enrôler sous la même bannière, de se joindre à la même entreprise. “All have not your powers, and it would be folly for the feeble to wish to march with the strong.” “All have not your powers, and it would be folly for the feeble to wish to march with the strong.” "Tous n'ont pas vos pouvoirs, et ce serait de la folie pour les faibles de vouloir marcher avec les forts.

“I do not speak to the feeble, or think of them: I address only such as are worthy of the work, and competent to accomplish it.” “I do not speak to the feeble, or think of them: I address only such as are worthy of the work, and competent to accomplish it.” «Je ne parle pas aux faibles, ni ne pense à eux: je m'adresse uniquement à ceux qui sont dignes du travail et compétents pour l'accomplir. “Those are few in number, and difficult to discover.” “You say truly; but when found, it is right to stir them up—to urge and exhort them to the effort—to show them what their gifts are, and why they were given—to speak Heaven’s message in their ear,—to offer them, direct from God, a place in the ranks of His chosen.” «Vous dites vraiment; mais une fois trouvé, il est juste de les exciter - de les pousser et de les exhorter à l'effort - de leur montrer quels sont leurs dons, et pourquoi ils ont été donnés - de dire le message du Ciel à leur oreille, - de les offrir, directement de Dieu, une place dans les rangs de ses élus. “If they are really qualified for the task, will not their own hearts be the first to inform them of it?” “If they are really qualified for the task, will not their own hearts be the first to inform them of it?” "S'ils sont vraiment qualifiés pour cette tâche, leur propre cœur ne sera-t-il pas le premier à les en informer ? I felt as if an awful charm was framing round and gathering over me: I trembled to hear some fatal word spoken which would at once declare and rivet the spell. J'avais l'impression qu'un affreux charme se profilait et se rassemblait sur moi: je tremblais d'entendre quelque mot fatal prononcé qui déclarerait et rivaliserait à la fois du sort. “And what does your heart say?” demanded St. John. “My heart is mute,—my heart is mute,” I answered, struck and thrilled. «Mon cœur est muet, mon cœur est muet», répondis-je, frappé et ravi. “Then I must speak for it,” continued the deep, relentless voice. “Jane, come with me to India: come as my helpmeet and fellow-labourer.” «Jane, viens avec moi en Inde: viens comme ma compagne et ma collègue. The glen and sky spun round: the hills heaved! Le vallon et le ciel tournoyaient: les collines se soulevaient!

It was as if I had heard a summons from Heaven—as if a visionary messenger, like him of Macedonia, had enounced, “Come over and help us!”  But I was no apostle,—I could not behold the herald,—I could not receive his call. C'était comme si j'avais entendu une convocation du Ciel - comme si un messager visionnaire, comme lui de Macédoine, avait prononcé: «Venez nous aider! Mais je n'étais pas apôtre, je ne pouvais pas voir le héraut, je ne pouvais pas recevoir son appel. “Oh, St.

John!” I cried, “have some mercy!” John!" J'ai pleuré, "ayez pitié!" I appealed to one who, in the discharge of what he believed his duty, knew neither mercy nor remorse. J'ai fait appel à celui qui, dans l'accomplissement de ce qu'il croyait son devoir, ne connaissait ni pitié ni remords. He continued— “God and nature intended you for a missionary’s wife. It is not personal, but mental endowments they have given you: you are formed for labour, not for love. Ce n'est pas des dotations personnelles, mais mentales qu'ils vous ont données: vous êtes formé pour le travail, non pour l'amour. A missionary’s wife you must—shall be. You shall be mine: I claim you—not for my pleasure, but for my Sovereign’s service.” Tu seras à moi : Je vous réclame, non pas pour mon plaisir, mais pour le service de mon souverain." “I am not fit for it: I have no vocation,” I said. He had calculated on these first objections: he was not irritated by them. Il avait calculé sur ces premières objections: il n'en était pas irrité. Indeed, as he leaned back against the crag behind him, folded his arms on his chest, and fixed his countenance, I saw he was prepared for a long and trying opposition, and had taken in a stock of patience to last him to its close—resolved, however, that that close should be conquest for him. Indeed, as he leaned back against the crag behind him, folded his arms on his chest, and fixed his countenance, I saw he was prepared for a long and trying opposition, and had taken in a stock of patience to last him to its close—resolved, however, that that close should be conquest for him. En effet, alors qu'il s'adossait contre le rocher derrière lui, croisait les bras sur sa poitrine et fixait son visage, j'ai vu qu'il était préparé pour une longue et éprouvante opposition, et avait pris un stock de patience pour le durer jusqu'à sa fin. - résolu, cependant, que cette proximité devait être une conquête pour lui. “Humility, Jane,” said he, “is the groundwork of Christian virtues: you say right that you are not fit for the work. “Humility, Jane,” said he, “is the groundwork of Christian virtues: you say right that you are not fit for the work. «L'humilité, Jane, dit-il, est le fondement des vertus chrétiennes: vous dites juste que vous n'êtes pas apte au travail. Who is fit for it? Or who, that ever was truly called, believed himself worthy of the summons? Ou qui, qui a jamais été vraiment appelé, s'est cru digne de la convocation? I, for instance, am but dust and ashes. Moi, par exemple, je ne suis que poussière et cendre. With St. Paul, I acknowledge myself the chiefest of sinners; but I do not suffer this sense of my personal vileness to daunt me. Paul, je me reconnais le plus grand des pécheurs; mais je ne souffre pas que ce sentiment de méchanceté personnelle me décourage. I know my Leader: that He is just as well as mighty; and while He has chosen a feeble instrument to perform a great task, He will, from the boundless stores of His providence, supply the inadequacy of the means to the end. Je connais mon chef: qu'il est aussi bien que puissant; et tandis qu'il a choisi un instrument faible pour accomplir une grande tâche, il fournira, des réserves illimitées de sa providence, l'insuffisance des moyens à la fin. Think like me, Jane—trust like me. It is the Rock of Ages I ask you to lean on: do not doubt but it will bear the weight of your human weakness.” C'est le Rocher des Âges sur lequel je vous demande de vous appuyer: ne doutez pas mais il supportera le poids de votre faiblesse humaine. “I do not understand a missionary life: I have never studied missionary labours.” “There I, humble as I am, can give you the aid you want: I can set you your task from hour to hour; stand by you always; help you from moment to moment. «Là, humble comme je suis, je peux vous donner l'aide que vous voulez: je peux vous fixer votre tâche d'heure en heure; restez toujours à vos côtés; vous aider d’instant en instant. This I could do in the beginning: soon (for I know your powers) you would be as strong and apt as myself, and would not require my help.” Je pourrais le faire au début : bientôt (car je connais vos pouvoirs) vous seriez aussi forts et capables que moi, et vous n'auriez plus besoin de mon aide". “But my powers—where are they for this undertaking? «Mais mes pouvoirs - où sont-ils pour cette entreprise? I do not feel them. Nothing speaks or stirs in me while you talk. Rien ne parle ou ne remue en moi pendant que vous parlez. I am sensible of no light kindling—no life quickening—no voice counselling or cheering. Je ne sens pas d'allumage léger - pas de vie vivifiante - pas de conseils vocaux ou d'acclamations. Oh, I wish I could make you see how much my mind is at this moment like a rayless dungeon, with one shrinking fear fettered in its depths—the fear of being persuaded by you to attempt what I cannot accomplish!” Oh, j'aimerais pouvoir vous faire voir à quel point mon esprit est en ce moment comme un donjon sans rayons, avec une peur qui rétrécit dans ses profondeurs - la peur d'être persuadé par vous d'essayer ce que je ne peux pas accomplir! “I have an answer for you—hear it. "J'ai une réponse pour vous - écoutez-la.

I have watched you ever since we first met: I have made you my study for ten months. Je vous ai observé depuis notre première rencontre: je vous ai fait mon étude pendant dix mois. I have proved you in that time by sundry tests: and what have I seen and elicited? Je vous ai prouvé en ce temps-là par divers tests: et qu'ai-je vu et suscité? In the village school I found you could perform well, punctually, uprightly, labour uncongenial to your habits and inclinations; I saw you could perform it with capacity and tact: you could win while you controlled. À l'école du village, j'ai trouvé que vous pouviez bien faire, ponctuellement, correctement, un travail peu compatible avec vos habitudes et vos inclinations; J'ai vu que vous pouviez l'exécuter avec capacité et tact: vous pouviez gagner tout en contrôlant. In the calm with which you learnt you had become suddenly rich, I read a mind clear of the vice of Demas:—lucre had no undue power over you. Dans le calme avec lequel vous avez appris que vous étiez devenu soudainement riche, j'ai lu un esprit clair du vice de Démas: - Lucre n'avait aucun pouvoir indu sur vous. In the resolute readiness with which you cut your wealth into four shares, keeping but one to yourself, and relinquishing the three others to the claim of abstract justice, I recognised a soul that revelled in the flame and excitement of sacrifice. Dans la volonté résolue avec laquelle vous coupez votre richesse en quatre parts, n'en gardant qu'une pour vous et abandonnant les trois autres à la revendication de la justice abstraite, j'ai reconnu une âme qui se délectait de la flamme et de l'excitation du sacrifice. In the tractability with which, at my wish, you forsook a study in which you were interested, and adopted another because it interested me; in the untiring assiduity with which you have since persevered in it—in the unflagging energy and unshaken temper with which you have met its difficulties—I acknowledge the complement of the qualities I seek. Dans la traitabilité avec laquelle, à mon gré, vous avez abandonné une étude qui vous intéressait, et en avez adopté une autre parce qu'elle m'intéressait; dans l'assiduité infatigable avec laquelle vous y avez persévéré depuis, dans l'énergie inébranlable et le tempérament inébranlable avec lesquels vous avez rencontré ses difficultés, je reconnais le complément des qualités que je recherche. Jane, you are docile, diligent, disinterested, faithful, constant, and courageous; very gentle, and very heroic: cease to mistrust yourself—I can trust you unreservedly. Jane, vous êtes docile, diligente, désintéressée, fidèle, constante et courageuse; très doux et très héroïque: cessez de vous méfier, je peux vous faire confiance sans réserve. As a conductress of Indian schools, and a helper amongst Indian women, your assistance will be to me invaluable.” En tant que directrice d'écoles indiennes et assistante parmi les femmes indiennes, votre aide me sera inestimable. My iron shroud contracted round me; persuasion advanced with slow sure step. My iron shroud contracted round me; persuasion advanced with slow sure step. Mon linceul de fer se contracta autour de moi; la persuasion avançait d'un pas lent et sûr. Shut my eyes as I would, these last words of his succeeded in making the way, which had seemed blocked up, comparatively clear. Shut my eyes as I would, these last words of his succeeded in making the way, which had seemed blocked up, comparatively clear. Fermez les yeux comme je le ferais, ces derniers mots de lui ont réussi à tracer le chemin, qui avait semblé bouché, comparativement clair. My work, which had appeared so vague, so hopelessly diffuse, condensed itself as he proceeded, and assumed a definite form under his shaping hand. My work, which had appeared so vague, so hopelessly diffuse, condensed itself as he proceeded, and assumed a definite form under his shaping hand. Mon travail, qui m'avait paru si vague, si désespérément diffus, se condensa à mesure qu'il avançait et prit une forme définie sous sa main façonneuse. He waited for an answer. I demanded a quarter of an hour to think, before I again hazarded a reply. J'ai demandé un quart d'heure de réflexion avant de me risquer à nouveau à répondre. “Very willingly,” he rejoined; and rising, he strode a little distance up the pass, threw himself down on a swell of heath, and there lay still. «Très volontiers», répondit-il; et se levant, il remonta un peu le col, se jeta sur une houle de bruyère et resta là. “I can do what he wants me to do: I am forced to see and acknowledge that,” I meditated,—“that is, if life be spared me. «Je peux faire ce qu'il veut que je fasse: je suis obligé de voir et de reconnaître cela, méditai-je, c'est-à-dire si la vie m'était épargnée. But I feel mine is not the existence to be long protracted under an Indian sun. Mais je sens que la mienne n'est pas l'existence d'être longtemps prolongée sous un soleil indien. What then? He does not care for that: when my time came to die, he would resign me, in all serenity and sanctity, to the God who gave me. Il s'en fiche: quand mon heure viendrait de mourir, il me résignait, en toute sérénité et sainteté, au Dieu qui m'a donné. The case is very plain before me. L'affaire est très claire devant moi. In leaving England, I should leave a loved but empty land—Mr. En quittant l'Angleterre, je devrais quitter une terre aimée mais vide - M. Rochester is not there; and if he were, what is, what can that ever be to me? My business is to live without him now: nothing so absurd, so weak as to drag on from day to day, as if I were waiting some impossible change in circumstances, which might reunite me to him. My business is to live without him now: nothing so absurd, so weak as to drag on from day to day, as if I were waiting some impossible change in circumstances, which might reunite me to him. Mon affaire est de vivre sans lui maintenant: rien d'aussi absurde, d'aussi faible que de s'éterniser de jour en jour, comme si j'attendais un changement impossible de circonstances, qui pourrait me réunir à lui. Of course (as St. John once said) I must seek another interest in life to replace the one lost: is not the occupation he now offers me truly the most glorious man can adopt or God assign? Jean a dit un jour) Je dois chercher un autre intérêt dans la vie pour remplacer celui perdu: l'occupation qu'il m'offre maintenant n'est-elle pas vraiment l'homme le plus glorieux que Dieu puisse adopter ou assigner? Is it not, by its noble cares and sublime results, the one best calculated to fill the void left by uptorn affections and demolished hopes? N'est-ce pas, par ses nobles soins et ses résultats sublimes, celui qui est le mieux à même de combler le vide laissé par les affections renflées et les espérances démolies? I believe I must say, Yes—and yet I shudder. I believe I must say, Yes—and yet I shudder. Je crois devoir répondre par l'affirmative, et pourtant je frémis. Alas! If I join St. John, I abandon half myself: if I go to India, I go to premature death. John, I abandon half myself: if I go to India, I go to premature death. And how will the interval between leaving England for India, and India for the grave, be filled? And how will the interval between leaving England for India, and India for the grave, be filled? Et comment sera comblé l'intervalle entre le départ de l'Angleterre pour l'Inde et l'Inde pour la tombe? Oh, I know well! That, too, is very clear to my vision. By straining to satisfy St. En s'efforçant de satisfaire St. John till my sinews ache, I shall satisfy him—to the finest central point and farthest outward circle of his expectations. John till my sinews ache, I shall satisfy him—to the finest central point and farthest outward circle of his expectations. John jusqu'à ce que mes tendons me font mal, je le satisferai - jusqu'au point central le plus fin et au cercle extérieur le plus éloigné de ses attentes. If I do go with him—if I do make the sacrifice he urges, I will make it absolutely: I will throw all on the altar—heart, vitals, the entire victim. If I do go with him—if I do make the sacrifice he urges, I will make it absolutely: I will throw all on the altar—heart, vitals, the entire victim. Si je l'accompagne - si je fais le sacrifice qu'il demande, je le ferai absolument: je jetterai tout sur l'autel - le cœur, les éléments vitaux, la victime entière. He will never love me; but he shall approve me; I will show him energies he has not yet seen, resources he has never suspected. He will never love me; but he shall approve me; I will show him energies he has not yet seen, resources he has never suspected. Il ne m'aimera jamais, mais il m'approuvera ; je lui montrerai des énergies qu'il n'a pas encore vues, des ressources qu'il n'a jamais soupçonnées. Yes, I can work as hard as he can, and with as little grudging. Yes, I can work as hard as he can, and with as little grudging. Oui, je peux travailler aussi dur que possible et avec le moins de rancune. “Consent, then, to his demand is possible: but for one item—one dreadful item. “Consent, then, to his demand is possible: but for one item—one dreadful item. «Il est donc possible de consentir à sa demande: mais pour un seul élément - un élément terrible. It is—that he asks me to be his wife, and has no more of a husband’s heart for me than that frowning giant of a rock, down which the stream is foaming in yonder gorge. It is—that he asks me to be his wife, and has no more of a husband's heart for me than that frowning giant of a rock, down which the stream is foaming in yonder gorge. C'est - qu'il me demande d'être sa femme, et n'a pas plus de cœur de mari pour moi que ce géant de rocher fronçant les sourcils, en bas duquel le ruisseau écume dans cette gorge. He prizes me as a soldier would a good weapon; and that is all. He prizes me as a soldier would a good weapon; and that is all. Il me valorise comme un soldat serait une bonne arme; et c'est tout. Unmarried to him, this would never grieve me; but can I let him complete his calculations—coolly put into practice his plans—go through the wedding ceremony? Unmarried to him, this would never grieve me; but can I let him complete his calculations—coolly put into practice his plans—go through the wedding ceremony? Célibataire avec lui, cela ne me ferait jamais de peine; mais puis-je le laisser terminer ses calculs - mettre calmement ses plans en pratique - passer la cérémonie de mariage? Can I receive from him the bridal ring, endure all the forms of love (which I doubt not he would scrupulously observe) and know that the spirit was quite absent? Can I receive from him the bridal ring, endure all the forms of love (which I doubt not he would scrupulously observe) and know that the spirit was quite absent? Puis-je recevoir de lui la bague nuptiale, endurer toutes les formes d'amour (dont je ne doute pas qu'il observerait scrupuleusement) et savoir que l'esprit était bien absent? Can I bear the consciousness that every endearment he bestows is a sacrifice made on principle? Can I bear the consciousness that every endearment he bestows is a sacrifice made on principle? Puis-je supporter la conscience que chaque affection qu'il accorde est un sacrifice fait par principe? No: such a martyrdom would be monstrous. Non : un tel martyre serait monstrueux. I will never undergo it. Je ne le subirai jamais. As his sister, I might accompany him—not as his wife: I will tell him so.” As his sister, I might accompany him—not as his wife: I will tell him so.” En tant que sœur, je pourrais l'accompagner, mais pas en tant qu'épouse : Je le lui dirai". I looked towards the knoll: there he lay, still as a prostrate column; his face turned to me: his eye beaming watchful and keen. I looked towards the knoll: there he lay, still as a prostrate column; his face turned to me: his eye beaming watchful and keen. J'ai regardé vers le monticule : il était là, immobile comme une colonne prostrée ; son visage était tourné vers moi : son œil était vigilant et vif. He started to his feet and approached me. “I am ready to go to India, if I may go free.” "Je suis prêt à aller en Inde, si je peux y aller librement."

“Your answer requires a commentary,” he said; “it is not clear.” “You have hitherto been my adopted brother—I, your adopted sister: let us continue as such: you and I had better not marry.”

He shook his head.

“Adopted fraternity will not do in this case. «La fraternité adoptée ne fera pas l'affaire dans ce cas. If you were my real sister it would be different: I should take you, and seek no wife. Si vous étiez ma vraie sœur, ce serait différent: je devrais vous prendre et ne chercher aucune épouse. But as it is, either our union must be consecrated and sealed by marriage, or it cannot exist: practical obstacles oppose themselves to any other plan. Mais tel quel, soit notre union doit être consacrée et scellée par le mariage, soit elle ne peut exister: des obstacles pratiques s'opposent à tout autre projet. Do you not see it, Jane? Consider a moment—your strong sense will guide you.” Pensez à un moment - votre sens aigu vous guidera. I did consider; and still my sense, such as it was, directed me only to the fact that we did not love each other as man and wife should: and therefore it inferred we ought not to marry. J'ai pensé; et pourtant mon sens, tel qu'il était, ne me dirigeait que vers le fait que nous ne nous aimions pas comme l'homme et la femme devraient le faire: c'est pourquoi il a déduit que nous ne devrions pas nous marier. I said so. “St.

John,” I returned, “I regard you as a brother—you, me as a sister: so let us continue.” “We cannot—we cannot,” he answered, with short, sharp determination: “it would not do. "Nous ne pouvons pas, nous ne pouvons pas", répondit-il avec une détermination brève et nette : "Ce n'est pas possible. You have said you will go with me to India: remember—you have said that.” “Conditionally.”

“Well—well.

To the main point—the departure with me from England, the co-operation with me in my future labours—you do not object. Au point principal - le départ avec moi d'Angleterre, la coopération avec moi dans mes travaux futurs - vous ne vous opposez pas. You have already as good as put your hand to the plough: you are too consistent to withdraw it. Vous avez déjà mis la main à la charrue: vous êtes trop cohérent pour la retirer. You have but one end to keep in view—how the work you have undertaken can best be done. Vous n’avez qu’une seule fin à garder en vue: la meilleure façon de faire le travail que vous avez entrepris. Simplify your complicated interests, feelings, thoughts, wishes, aims; merge all considerations in one purpose: that of fulfilling with effect—with power—the mission of your great Master. Simplifiez vos intérêts, sentiments, pensées, souhaits, objectifs complexes; fusionnez toutes les considérations dans un seul but: celui d'accomplir avec effet - avec puissance - la mission de votre grand Maître. To do so, you must have a coadjutor: not a brother—that is a loose tie—but a husband. Pour ce faire, vous devez avoir un coadjuteur: pas un frère - c'est une cravate lâche - mais un mari. I, too, do not want a sister: a sister might any day be taken from me. I want a wife: the sole helpmeet I can influence efficiently in life, and retain absolutely till death.” Je veux une femme: la seule aide que je puisse influencer efficacement dans la vie et la conserver absolument jusqu'à la mort. I shuddered as he spoke: I felt his influence in my marrow—his hold on my limbs. Je frissonnai en parlant: je sentis son influence dans ma moelle, sa prise sur mes membres. “Seek one elsewhere than in me, St. "Cherchez-vous ailleurs qu'en moi, St.

John: seek one fitted to you.” “One fitted to my purpose, you mean—fitted to my vocation. "Une personne adaptée à mon objectif, vous voulez dire, adaptée à ma vocation. Again I tell you it is not the insignificant private individual—the mere man, with the man’s selfish senses—I wish to mate: it is the missionary.” Encore une fois, je vous dis que ce n'est pas l'individu insignifiant - le simple homme, avec les sens égoïstes de l'homme - que je souhaite s'accoupler: c'est le missionnaire. “And I will give the missionary my energies—it is all he wants—but not myself: that would be only adding the husk and shell to the kernel. «Et je donnerai au missionnaire mes énergies - c'est tout ce qu'il veut - mais pas moi-même: ce serait seulement ajouter la coque et la coquille au noyau. For them he has no use: I retain them.” Pour eux, il ne sert à rien: je les garde. “You cannot—you ought not.

Do you think God will be satisfied with half an oblation? Pensez-vous que Dieu se contentera d'une demi-oblation? Will He accept a mutilated sacrifice? It is the cause of God I advocate: it is under His standard I enlist you. C'est la cause de Dieu que je préconise: c'est sous Son étendard que je vous enrôle. I cannot accept on His behalf a divided allegiance: it must be entire.” Je ne peux pas accepter en son nom une allégeance divisée: elle doit être entière. “Oh!

I will give my heart to God,” I said. Je vais donner mon cœur à Dieu", ai-je dit. “ You do not want it.” " Vous n'en voulez pas". I will not swear, reader, that there was not something of repressed sarcasm both in the tone in which I uttered this sentence, and in the feeling that accompanied it. Je ne jure pas, lecteur, qu'il n'y avait pas quelque chose de sarcastique refoulé dans le ton avec lequel j'ai prononcé cette phrase et dans le sentiment qui l'accompagnait. I had silently feared St. J'avais silencieusement craint St. John till now, because I had not understood him. John jusqu'à présent, parce que je ne l'avais pas compris. He had held me in awe, because he had held me in doubt. Il m'avait tenu en admiration, car il m'avait tenu dans le doute. How much of him was saint, how much mortal, I could not heretofore tell: but revelations were being made in this conference: the analysis of his nature was proceeding before my eyes. Combien de lui était saint, combien mortel, je ne pouvais pas dire jusqu'ici: mais des révélations se faisaient dans cette conférence: l'analyse de sa nature se déroulait sous mes yeux. I saw his fallibilities: I comprehended them. J'ai vu ses faiblesses : Je les ai comprises. I understood that, sitting there where I did, on the bank of heath, and with that handsome form before me, I sat at the feet of a man, caring as I.  The veil fell from his hardness and despotism. Je compris que, assis là où je faisais, sur le bord de la bruyère, et avec cette belle forme devant moi, je m'assis aux pieds d'un homme, attentionné comme moi. Le voile tombait de sa dureté et de son despotisme. Having felt in him the presence of these qualities, I felt his imperfection and took courage. Ayant senti en lui la présence de ces qualités, j'ai senti son imperfection et j'ai pris courage. I was with an equal—one with whom I might argue—one whom, if I saw good, I might resist. J'étais avec un égal - avec qui je pourrais discuter - un à qui, si je voyais bien, je pourrais résister. He was silent after I had uttered the last sentence, and I presently risked an upward glance at his countenance. Il se tut après que j'eus prononcé la dernière phrase, et je risquai actuellement de jeter un coup d'œil sur son visage. His eye, bent on me, expressed at once stern surprise and keen inquiry. Son œil, penché sur moi, exprimait à la fois une vive surprise et une vive interrogation.

“Is she sarcastic, and sarcastic to me !” it seemed to say. "Est-elle sarcastique, et sarcastique avec moi ?" semblait-il dire. “What does this signify?” “Do not let us forget that this is a solemn matter,” he said ere long; “one of which we may neither think nor talk lightly without sin. «N'oublions pas que c'est une question solennelle», dit-il tout à l'heure; «Un dont nous ne pouvons ni penser ni parler légèrement sans péché. I trust, Jane, you are in earnest when you say you will serve your heart to God: it is all I want. J'espère, Jane, que tu es sincère quand tu dis que tu serviras ton cœur à Dieu: c'est tout ce que je veux. Once wrench your heart from man, and fix it on your Maker, the advancement of that Maker’s spiritual kingdom on earth will be your chief delight and endeavour; you will be ready to do at once whatever furthers that end. Une fois arraché votre cœur à l'homme et le fixer sur votre Créateur, l'avancement du royaume spirituel de ce Créateur sur terre sera votre plus grand plaisir et effort; vous serez prêt à faire immédiatement tout ce qui contribuera à cette fin. You will see what impetus would be given to your efforts and mine by our physical and mental union in marriage: the only union that gives a character of permanent conformity to the destinies and designs of human beings; and, passing over all minor caprices—all trivial difficulties and delicacies of feeling—all scruple about the degree, kind, strength or tenderness of mere personal inclination—you will hasten to enter into that union at once.” Vous verrez quelle impulsion serait donnée à vos efforts et aux miens par notre union physique et mentale dans le mariage: la seule union qui donne un caractère de conformité permanente aux destinées et aux desseins des êtres humains; et, passant par-dessus tous les caprices mineurs - toutes les difficultés insignifiantes et les délices du sentiment - tous scrupules sur le degré, la gentillesse, la force ou la tendresse de la simple inclination personnelle - vous vous empresserez d'entrer dans cette union à la fois. “Shall I?” I said briefly; and I looked at his features, beautiful in their harmony, but strangely formidable in their still severity; at his brow, commanding but not open; at his eyes, bright and deep and searching, but never soft; at his tall imposing figure; and fancied myself in idea his wife . "Devrais-je?" J'ai dit brièvement; et je regardais ses traits, beaux dans leur harmonie, mais étrangement formidables dans leur encore sévérité; à son front, commandant mais pas ouvert; à ses yeux, brillants et profonds et recherchant, mais jamais doux; à sa grande silhouette imposante; et je me suis imaginé dans l'idée de sa femme. Oh!

it would never do! ça ne marchera jamais ! As his curate, his comrade, all would be right: I would cross oceans with him in that capacity; toil under Eastern suns, in Asian deserts with him in that office; admire and emulate his courage and devotion and vigour; accommodate quietly to his masterhood; smile undisturbed at his ineradicable ambition; discriminate the Christian from the man: profoundly esteem the one, and freely forgive the other. Comme son vicaire, son camarade, tout irait bien: je traverserais les océans avec lui en cette qualité; labeur sous les soleils orientaux, dans les déserts asiatiques avec lui dans ce bureau; admirez et imitez son courage, son dévouement et sa vigueur; accueillir tranquillement à sa maîtrise; sourire sans être dérangé par son ambition indéracinable; discriminer le chrétien de l'homme: estime profondément l'un et pardonne librement à l'autre. I should suffer often, no doubt, attached to him only in this capacity: my body would be under rather a stringent yoke, but my heart and mind would be free. Je souffrirais souvent, sans doute, attaché à lui uniquement à ce titre: mon corps serait sous un joug assez sévère, mais mon cœur et mon esprit seraient libres. I should still have my unblighted self to turn to: my natural unenslaved feelings with which to communicate in moments of loneliness. Je devrais toujours avoir mon moi inchangé vers qui me tourner: mes sentiments naturels non esclaves avec lesquels communiquer dans les moments de solitude. There would be recesses in my mind which would be only mine, to which he never came, and sentiments growing there fresh and sheltered which his austerity could never blight, nor his measured warrior-march trample down: but as his wife—at his side always, and always restrained, and always checked—forced to keep the fire of my nature continually low, to compel it to burn inwardly and never utter a cry, though the imprisoned flame consumed vital after vital— this would be unendurable. Il y aurait des recoins dans mon esprit qui ne seraient que le mien, auxquels il n'est jamais venu, et des sentiments y croissant frais et à l'abri que son austérité ne pourrait jamais gâcher, ni sa mesure de marche guerrière piétiner: mais comme sa femme - à ses côtés toujours, et toujours retenu, et toujours arrêté - forcé de maintenir le feu de ma nature continuellement bas, de le contraindre à brûler intérieurement et à ne jamais pousser un cri, bien que la flamme emprisonnée consomme vital après vital - ce serait insupportable. “St.

John!” I exclaimed, when I had got so far in my meditation. John!" M'écriai-je, alors que j'étais arrivé si loin dans ma méditation. “Well?” he answered icily.

“I repeat I freely consent to go with you as your fellow-missionary, but not as your wife; I cannot marry you and become part of you.” “A part of me you must become,” he answered steadily; “otherwise the whole bargain is void. «Vous devez devenir une partie de moi», répondit-il régulièrement; «Sinon, tout le marché est nul. How can I, a man not yet thirty, take out with me to India a girl of nineteen, unless she be married to me? Comment pourrais-je, moi qui n'ai pas encore trente ans, emmener avec moi en Inde une fille de dix-neuf ans, à moins qu'elle ne m'épouse? How can we be for ever together—sometimes in solitudes, sometimes amidst savage tribes—and unwed?” Comment pouvons-nous être pour toujours ensemble - parfois dans la solitude, parfois au milieu de tribus sauvages - et célibataires? “Very well,” I said shortly; “under the circumstances, quite as well as if I were either your real sister, or a man and a clergyman like yourself.” «Très bien,» dis-je brièvement; «Dans les circonstances, tout aussi bien que si j'étais soit votre vraie sœur, soit un homme et un ecclésiastique comme vous. “It is known that you are not my sister; I cannot introduce you as such: to attempt it would be to fasten injurious suspicions on us both. «On sait que tu n'es pas ma sœur; Je ne peux pas vous présenter en tant que tel: tenter cela reviendrait à attacher à nous deux des soupçons préjudiciables. And for the rest, though you have a man’s vigorous brain, you have a woman’s heart and—it would not do.” Et pour le reste, bien que vous ayez le cerveau vigoureux d'un homme, vous avez un cœur de femme et - ça ne ferait pas l'affaire. “It would do,” I affirmed with some disdain, “perfectly well. «Cela ferait l'affaire, affirmai-je avec un certain dédain, parfaitement bien. I have a woman’s heart, but not where you are concerned; for you I have only a comrade’s constancy; a fellow-soldier’s frankness, fidelity, fraternity, if you like; a neophyte’s respect and submission to his hierophant: nothing more—don’t fear.” J'ai un cœur de femme, mais pas pour vous; pour toi je n'ai qu'une constance de camarade; la franchise, la fidélité, la fraternité d'un camarade, si vous voulez; le respect et la soumission d'un néophyte à son hiérophante: rien de plus, n'ayez crainte. “It is what I want,” he said, speaking to himself; “it is just what I want.

And there are obstacles in the way: they must be hewn down. Et il y a des obstacles sur le chemin: ils doivent être abattus. Jane, you would not repent marrying me—be certain of that; we must be married. Jane, vous ne vous repentiriez pas de m'épouser - soyez-en certain; nous devons être mariés. I repeat it: there is no other way; and undoubtedly enough of love would follow upon marriage to render the union right even in your eyes.” Je le répète: il n'y a pas d'autre moyen; et sans aucun doute assez d'amour suivrait le mariage pour rendre l'union juste à vos yeux. “I scorn your idea of love,” I could not help saying, as I rose up and stood before him, leaning my back against the rock. «Je méprise votre idée de l'amour», je ne pus m'empêcher de dire, alors que je me levais et me tenais devant lui, appuyée contre le rocher. “I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer: yes, St. "Je dédaigne le sentiment contrefait que vous offrez : oui, St. John, and I scorn you when you offer it.” John, et je vous méprise quand vous le proposez". He looked at me fixedly, compressing his well-cut lips while he did so. Il me regarda fixement, comprimant ses lèvres bien coupées pendant qu'il le faisait. Whether he was incensed or surprised, or what, it was not easy to tell: he could command his countenance thoroughly. Qu'il soit furieux ou surpris, ou quoi, ce n'était pas facile à dire: il pouvait commander sa physionomie à fond. “I scarcely expected to hear that expression from you,” he said: “I think I have done and uttered nothing to deserve scorn.” «Je ne m'attendais guère à entendre cette expression de votre part», dit-il: «Je pense que je n'ai rien fait ni prononcé pour mériter le mépris. I was touched by his gentle tone, and overawed by his high, calm mien. J'ai été touché par son ton doux et impressionné par son air haut et calme. “Forgive me the words, St.

John; but it is your own fault that I have been roused to speak so unguardedly. John; mais c'est de votre faute si j'ai été poussé à parler si imprudemment. You have introduced a topic on which our natures are at variance—a topic we should never discuss: the very name of love is an apple of discord between us. Vous avez introduit un sujet sur lequel nos natures sont en désaccord - un sujet dont nous ne devrions jamais discuter: le nom même de l'amour est une pomme de discorde entre nous. If the reality were required, what should we do? Si la réalité était requise, que devrions-nous faire? How should we feel? My dear cousin, abandon your scheme of marriage—forget it.” “No,” said he; “it is a long-cherished scheme, and the only one which can secure my great end: but I shall urge you no further at present. «Non», dit-il; «C'est un projet chéri depuis longtemps, et le seul qui puisse assurer ma grande fin: mais je ne vous exhorterai pas plus pour le moment. To-morrow, I leave home for Cambridge: I have many friends there to whom I should wish to say farewell. Demain, je pars pour Cambridge: j'y ai beaucoup d'amis à qui je voudrais dire adieu. I shall be absent a fortnight—take that space of time to consider my offer: and do not forget that if you reject it, it is not me you deny, but God. Through my means, He opens to you a noble career; as my wife only can you enter upon it. Par mes moyens, Il vous ouvre une noble carrière; comme ma femme seule pouvez-vous y entrer. Refuse to be my wife, and you limit yourself for ever to a track of selfish ease and barren obscurity. Refusez d'être ma femme, et vous vous limitez pour toujours à une trace d'aisance égoïste et d'obscurité stérile. Tremble lest in that case you should be numbered with those who have denied the faith, and are worse than infidels!” Tremblez de peur que dans ce cas vous ne soyez compté parmi ceux qui ont nié la foi et qui sont pires que des infidèles! He had done.

Turning from me, he once more “Looked to river, looked to hill.”

But this time his feelings were all pent in his heart: I was not worthy to hear them uttered. Mais cette fois, ses sentiments étaient tous enfoncés dans son cœur: je n'étais pas digne de les entendre. As I walked by his side homeward, I read well in his iron silence all he felt towards me: the disappointment of an austere and despotic nature, which has met resistance where it expected submission—the disapprobation of a cool, inflexible judgment, which has detected in another feelings and views in which it has no power to sympathise: in short, as a man, he would have wished to coerce me into obedience: it was only as a sincere Christian he bore so patiently with my perversity, and allowed so long a space for reflection and repentance. En marchant à ses côtés pour rentrer chez moi, j'ai bien lu dans son silence de fer tout ce qu'il ressentait à mon égard: la déception d'une nature austère et despotique, qui a rencontré une résistance là où elle attendait la soumission - la désapprobation d'un jugement froid et inflexible, qui a décelé dans d'autres sentiments et vues dans lesquels il n'a pas le pouvoir de sympathiser: bref, en tant qu'homme, il aurait voulu me contraindre à l'obéissance: ce n'est qu'en chrétien sincère qu'il a supporté si patiemment ma perversité, et l'a permis longtemps un espace de réflexion et de repentir. That night, after he had kissed his sisters, he thought proper to forget even to shake hands with me, but left the room in silence. Cette nuit-là, après avoir embrassé ses sœurs, il jugea bon d'oublier même de me serrer la main, mais quitta la pièce en silence. I—who, though I had no love, had much friendship for him—was hurt by the marked omission: so much hurt that tears started to my eyes. Moi - qui, bien que je n'avais pas d'amour, j'avais beaucoup d'amitié pour lui - j'ai été blessé par cette omission marquée: tant de douleur que les larmes me sont montées aux yeux. “I see you and St.

John have been quarrelling, Jane,” said Diana, “during your walk on the moor. But go after him; he is now lingering in the passage expecting you—he will make it up.” Mais allez après lui; il s'attarde maintenant dans le passage qui t'attend - il le rattrapera. I have not much pride under such circumstances: I would always rather be happy than dignified; and I ran after him—he stood at the foot of the stairs. Je n'ai pas beaucoup de fierté dans de telles circonstances: je préférerais toujours être heureux que digne; et j'ai couru après lui - il se tenait au pied de l'escalier. “Good-night, St.

John,” said I. “Good-night, Jane,” he replied calmly.

“Then shake hands,” I added.

What a cold, loose touch, he impressed on my fingers! Quel toucher froid et lâche, il a impressionné mes doigts!

He was deeply displeased by what had occurred that day; cordiality would not warm, nor tears move him. Il était profondément mécontent de ce qui s'était passé ce jour-là; la cordialité ne le réchaufferait pas, ni les larmes ne l’émouvoir. No happy reconciliation was to be had with him—no cheering smile or generous word: but still the Christian was patient and placid; and when I asked him if he forgave me, he answered that he was not in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation; that he had nothing to forgive, not having been offended. Aucune réconciliation heureuse ne devait être faite avec lui, pas de sourire enthousiaste ni de parole généreuse: mais le chrétien restait patient et placide; et quand je lui ai demandé s'il me pardonnait, il a répondu qu'il n'avait pas l'habitude de chérir le souvenir de la vexation; qu'il n'avait rien à pardonner, n'ayant pas été offensé. And with that answer he left me.

I would much rather he had knocked me down. J'aurais préféré qu'il m'ait assommé.