s of brown…quelled sedge on the adjacent marshland； and a solitary kingfisher breaks with magic electric streaks the dark enclosures under the alders that span the narrowest water。 But something； and for long periods； there is no life and no sound at all。 The water is slowly stilled after the last fish have broken it； the coot are silent； the leaves cease their shaking and falling in the dead October air。 The crimson float es to rest on water that seems to have on it a skin of oil。
On such still clear days the color is wonderful。 From the south bank of the water poplar and alder and ash and horse…chestnut let fall high liquid curtains of lemon and bronze。 Orchards of cherry and pear shoulder with drooping orange flames beyond the light wall of almost naked willows。 The oaks are still green； but the beeches in the distances stand like red mountains。 And on the lake itself unexpected color springs up： an island of quince trees； still green； but hung with many ripe lanterns of bright fruit that no one gathers。
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玫 瑰（1）
＇美国＇洛根·皮尔索尔·史密斯
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洛根·皮尔索尔·史密斯（1865—1946），生于美国费城，但大半生在英国度过，主要致力于英国语言的研究。主要作品有《亨利·沃顿爵士传记》《读莎士比亚》《弥尔顿和他的现代评论家》《难忘的年代》等。本文是一篇围绕玫瑰展开的一个触动人心的爱情故事。
这位老太太总以她花园中那棵巨大的玫瑰树为荣。她会津津有味地告诉你她头一次结婚时，从意大利带回来的一根插条，是怎么样长成参天大树的。回想当年她和丈夫乘马车从罗马旅行归来（那时还未通铁路），途经锡耶纳南部的一段路时，道路很难走以至于马车都坏了，没有办法他们只好夜宿于路边的一间小店。住宿条件的恶劣使她彻夜无眠，很早就起身穿好衣服，站在窗前等待黎明。凉风不时从窗外袭来。事隔多年，她依然记得一轮明月挂在那蓝色的群山上，远山上的小城一点一点地变白，直到月亮渐渐落下，初升的太阳为群山抹上一层淡淡的粉色。突然，小城像是被一盏明灯照亮了，一扇扇窗户明亮地反射出耀眼的光芒，最后，小城如满天繁星般在天空中熠熠生光。
那天上午，得知必须等一段时间马车才能修好，他们便乘当地的交通车上了那个山顶小城，听说在那儿可以找到好一点的住处。之后，他们在山上逗留了两三天。那是个意大利小城，有一个高高的教堂，一个不是很繁华的市场，一些窄窄的街道，几座小小的宫殿，稠密而完美地立于山顶。被城墙围着的城区并不比英国人的菜园子大多少，但这里生机勃勃，喧闹嘈杂，昼夜回荡着脚步声和话语声。
他们居住在当地一个名流云集的小酒店里，有市长、律师、医生，还有其他一些人。其中一位英俊、高个儿而又健谈的老人引起了他们的注意。他乌黑的眼睛，雪白的头发，腰板挺直，像年轻人一样。但是酒店的侍者却自豪地告诉他们实际上这位伯爵已届高龄，明年是他的八十寿辰。侍者还说到伯爵是这个家族的最后一员，他们家曾是豪门大户，但其一生无子嗣。但事实上，这个侍者还甚是得意地说，伯爵情场失意，终生未娶，似乎这是一件本地值得炫耀的事情。
不过幸好，这位老先生看起来活得还挺开心；显然他对陌生人很感兴趣，愿意与之结交。很快这位好心的侍者促成了他们之间的认识。刚聊一会儿，老人就邀请他们参观他郊外的别墅和花园。因此，第二天下午，日落之时，当他们从门口和窗口瞥见蓝色的阴影覆盖了褐色的山峦时，就动身去造访这位老伯爵了。其实别墅比较一般，只是一座用灰泥粉饰过的现代小别墅，铺有石子的花园里有些热，石盆中的鱼儿无精打采，狄安娜和猎犬的雕像倚墙而立。然而，一棵巨大的玫瑰树为这个花园增色不少，它高过房顶，几乎盖住了窗户，散发出诱人的花香。嗯！确实是棵美丽的玫瑰树，在人们的赞美声中老先生很自豪地说，而且他很乐意为这位女士讲述玫瑰树的故事。当大家坐在那儿，喝着老人拿出的葡萄酒时，老伯爵忘却了自己已届高龄，向大家娓娓道来自己当年的爱情故事，就好像他们早已经听说过似的。
“多年以前，当我还是个年轻人时，那个小姐住在那座山背后的山谷对面。我常骑马去与她约会；虽然路很长，但年轻人性子急——这位女士无疑是知道的，所以我骑得很快。但那位小姐很不友善，总是让我等啊等，一等就是几个小时吧。一天，久候不来之后，我勃然大怒。在我们约会的那个花园里不停地踱步，借着怒火折断她的一棵玫瑰树，把上面的一根树枝折走了。清醒之后，我立马将它藏进外套。事情就是这样。回家之后我把它种到花园里，它现在的情形这位女士已经看到了。当然这位女士要是喜欢的话，我愿意送根插条让她种在她家的花园里。听说英国人的花园很漂亮，到处绿油油的，不像我们的园子都被太阳烤焦了。”txt电子书分享平台
玫 瑰（2）
翌日，马车已修好，上山来接他们。正要乘车离开小酒店时，伯爵的老仆人来了。送给他们一根包扎好的玫瑰插条，并转达了老伯爵的问候与祝福，祝他们旅途愉快。全城人都出来目送他们离去，孩童们追随马车一直到小城门外。开始还能听到身后阵阵的脚步声，但不久马车就驶入山谷，喧闹的小城依然在他们上面高高立于山巅。
她将玫瑰插条种在家里，长势良好，枝繁叶茂。每年的六月，枝繁叶茂的玫瑰树都会开出深红的花儿，花香四溢。就好像它的根须中依然燃烧着那个意大利爱人的愤怒和爱情中没有实现的愿望一样。当然，老伯爵肯定已经辞世多年；她也忘记了老伯爵的名字，连曾经住过的小城的名字也遗忘了。只记得初见时，它犹如满天的繁星在黎明的薄幕中熠熠生光。
The Rose
Logan Pearsall Smith
The old lady had always been proud of the great rose…tree in her garden； and was fond of telling how it had grown from a cutting she had brought years before from Italy； when she was first married。 She and her husband had been travelling back in their carriage from Rome （it was before the time of railways）； and on a bad piece of road south of Siena they had broken down； and had been forced to pass the night in a little house by the road…side。 The acmodation1 was wretched of course； she had spent a sleepless night； and rising early had stood； wrapped up； at her window； with the cool air blowing on her face； to watch the dawn。 She could still； after all these years； remember the blue mountains with the bright moon above them； and how a far…off town on one of the peaks had gradually grown whiter and whiter； till the moon faded； the mountains were touched with the pink of the rising sun； and suddenly the town was lit as by an illumination2； one window after another catching and reflecting the sun’s beams； till at last the whole little city twinkled and sparkled up in the sky like a nest of stars。
That morning； finding they would have to wait while their carriage was being repaired； they had driven in a local conveyance up to the city on the mountain； where they had been told they would find better quarters； and there they had stayed two or three days。 It was one of the miniature Italian cities with a high church； a pretentious piazza； a few narrow streets and little palaces； perched； all pact and plete； on the top of a mountain； within an enclosure of walls hardly larger than an English kitchen garden。 But it was full of life and noise echoing all day and all night with the sounds of feet and voices。
The Cafe of the simple inn where they stayed was the meeting place of the notabilities of the little city； the Sindaco； the avvocato； the doctor； and a few others； and among them they noticed a beautiful； slim； talkative old man； with bright black eyes and snow…white hair—tall and straight and still with the figure of a youth； although the waiter told them with pride that the Conte was molto vecchio—would in fact be eighty in the following year。 He was the last of his family； the waiter added—they had once been great and rich people—but he had no descendants； in fact the waiter mentioned with placency； as if it were a story on which the locality3 prided itself； that the Conte had been unfortunate in love； and had never married。书包 网 。 想看书来
玫 瑰（3）
The old gentleman； however； seemed cheerful enough； and it was plain that he took an interest in the strangers； and wished to make their acquaintance。 This was soon effected by the friendly waiter； and after a little talk the old man invited them to visit his villa and garden which were just outside the walls of the town。 So the next afternoon； when the sun began to descend； and they saw in glimpses through doorways and windows； blue shadows beginning to spread over the brown mountains； they went to pay their visit。 It was not much of a place； a small； modernized； stucco villa4； with a hot pebbly garden； and in it a stone basin with torpid gold fish； and a statue of Diana and her hounds against the wall。 But what gave a glory to it was a gigantic rose…tree which clambered over the house； almost smothering the windows； and filling the air with the perfume of its sweetness。 Yet； it was a fine rose； the Conte said proudly when they praised it； and he would tell the Signora about it。 And as they sat there； drinking the wine he offered them； he alluded with the cheerful indifference of old age to his love affair； as though he took for granted that they had heard of it already。
“The lady lived across the valley there beyond that hill。 I was a young man then； for it was many years ago。 I used to ride over to see her； it was a long way； but I rode fast； for young men； as no doubt the Signora knows； are impatient。 But the lady was not kind； she would keep me waiting ； oh； for hours； and one day when I had waited very long I grew very angry； and as I walked up and down in the garden where she had told me she would see me； I broke one of her roses； broke a branch from it； and when I saw what I had done； I hid it inside my coat so； and when I came home I planted it； and the Signora sees how it has grown。 If the Signora admires it； I must give her a cutting to plant also in her garden； I am told the English have beautiful gardens that are green； and not burnt with the sun like ours。”
The next day； when their mended carriage had e up to fetch them； and they were ju