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Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, CHAPTER XXXVI

CHAPTER XXXVI

The daylight came.

I rose at dawn. I busied myself for an hour or two with arranging my things in my chamber, drawers, and wardrobe, in the order wherein I should wish to leave them during a brief absence. Meantime, I heard St. John quit his room. He stopped at my door: I feared he would knock—no, but a slip of paper was passed under the door. I took it up. It bore these words— “You left me too suddenly last night.

Had you stayed but a little longer, you would have laid your hand on the Christian's cross and the angel's crown. I shall expect your clear decision when I return this day fortnight. Meantime, watch and pray that you enter not into temptation: the spirit, I trust, is willing, but the flesh, I see, is weak. I shall pray for you hourly.—Yours, St. John.” “My spirit,” I answered mentally, “is willing to do what is right; and my flesh, I hope, is strong enough to accomplish the will of Heaven, when once that will is distinctly known to me. At any rate, it shall be strong enough to search—inquire—to grope an outlet from this cloud of doubt, and find the open day of certainty.” It was the first of June; yet the morning was overcast and chilly: rain beat fast on my casement. I heard the front-door open, and St. John pass out. Looking through the window, I saw him traverse the garden. He took the way over the misty moors in the direction of Whitcross—there he would meet the coach. “In a few more hours I shall succeed you in that track, cousin,” thought I: “I too have a coach to meet at Whitcross. I too have some to see and ask after in England, before I depart for ever.” It wanted yet two hours of breakfast-time.

I filled the interval in walking softly about my room, and pondering the visitation which had given my plans their present bent. I recalled that inward sensation I had experienced: for I could recall it, with all its unspeakable strangeness. I recalled the voice I had heard; again I questioned whence it came, as vainly as before: it seemed in me —not in the external world. I asked was it a mere nervous impression—a delusion? I could not conceive or believe: it was more like an inspiration. The wondrous shock of feeling had come like the earthquake which shook the foundations of Paul and Silas's prison; it had opened the doors of the soul's cell and loosed its bands—it had wakened it out of its sleep, whence it sprang trembling, listening, aghast; then vibrated thrice a cry on my startled ear, and in my quaking heart and through my spirit, which neither feared nor shook, but exulted as if in joy over the success of one effort it had been privileged to make, independent of the cumbrous body. “Ere many days,” I said, as I terminated my musings, “I will know something of him whose voice seemed last night to summon me. Letters have proved of no avail—personal inquiry shall replace them.” At breakfast I announced to Diana and Mary that I was going a journey, and should be absent at least four days. “Alone, Jane?” they asked.

“Yes; it was to see or hear news of a friend about whom I had for some time been uneasy.” They might have said, as I have no doubt they thought, that they had believed me to be without any friends save them: for, indeed, I had often said so; but, with their true natural delicacy, they abstained from comment, except that Diana asked me if I was sure I was well enough to travel. I looked very pale, she observed. I replied, that nothing ailed me save anxiety of mind, which I hoped soon to alleviate. It was easy to make my further arrangements; for I was troubled with no inquiries—no surmises. Having once explained to them that I could not now be explicit about my plans, they kindly and wisely acquiesced in the silence with which I pursued them, according to me the privilege of free action I should under similar circumstances have accorded them. I left Moor House at three o'clock p.m., and soon after four I stood at the foot of the sign-post of Whitcross, waiting the arrival of the coach which was to take me to distant Thornfield. Amidst the silence of those solitary roads and desert hills, I heard it approach from a great distance. It was the same vehicle whence, a year ago, I had alighted one summer evening on this very spot—how desolate, and hopeless, and objectless! It stopped as I beckoned. I entered—not now obliged to part with my whole fortune as the price of its accommodation. Once more on the road to Thornfield, I felt like the messenger-pigeon flying home. It was a journey of six-and-thirty hours.

I had set out from Whitcross on a Tuesday afternoon, and early on the succeeding Thursday morning the coach stopped to water the horses at a wayside inn, situated in the midst of scenery whose green hedges and large fields and low pastoral hills (how mild of feature and verdant of hue compared with the stern North-Midland moors of Morton!) met my eye like the lineaments of a once familiar face. Yes, I knew the character of this landscape: I was sure we were near my bourne. “How far is Thornfield Hall from here?” I asked of the ostler.

“Just two miles, ma'am, across the fields.” “My journey is closed,” I thought to myself.

I got out of the coach, gave a box I had into the ostler's charge, to be kept till I called for it; paid my fare; satisfied the coachman, and was going: the brightening day gleamed on the sign of the inn, and I read in gilt letters, “The Rochester Arms.” My heart leapt up: I was already on my master's very lands. It fell again: the thought struck it:— “Your master himself may be beyond the British Channel, for aught you know: and then, if he is at Thornfield Hall, towards which you hasten, who besides him is there? His lunatic wife: and you have nothing to do with him: you dare not speak to him or seek his presence. You have lost your labour—you had better go no farther,” urged the monitor. “Ask information of the people at the inn; they can give you all you seek: they can solve your doubts at once. Go up to that man, and inquire if Mr. Rochester be at home.” The suggestion was sensible, and yet I could not force myself to act on it. I so dreaded a reply that would crush me with despair. To prolong doubt was to prolong hope. I might yet once more see the Hall under the ray of her star. There was the stile before me—the very fields through which I had hurried, blind, deaf, distracted with a revengeful fury tracking and scourging me, on the morning I fled from Thornfield: ere I well knew what course I had resolved to take, I was in the midst of them. How fast I walked! How I ran sometimes! How I looked forward to catch the first view of the well-known woods! With what feelings I welcomed single trees I knew, and familiar glimpses of meadow and hill between them! At last the woods rose; the rookery clustered dark; a loud cawing broke the morning stillness. Strange delight inspired me: on I hastened. Another field crossed—a lane threaded—and there were the courtyard walls—the back offices: the house itself, the rookery still hid. “My first view of it shall be in front,” I determined, “where its bold battlements will strike the eye nobly at once, and where I can single out my master's very window: perhaps he will be standing at it—he rises early: perhaps he is now walking in the orchard, or on the pavement in front. Could I but see him!—but a moment! Surely, in that case, I should not be so mad as to run to him? I cannot tell—I am not certain. And if I did—what then? God bless him! What then? Who would be hurt by my once more tasting the life his glance can give me? I rave: perhaps at this moment he is watching the sun rise over the Pyrenees, or on the tideless sea of the south.” I had coasted along the lower wall of the orchard—turned its angle: there was a gate just there, opening into the meadow, between two stone pillars crowned by stone balls. From behind one pillar I could peep round quietly at the full front of the mansion. I advanced my head with precaution, desirous to ascertain if any bedroom window-blinds were yet drawn up: battlements, windows, long front—all from this sheltered station were at my command. The crows sailing overhead perhaps watched me while I took this survey. I wonder what they thought. They must have considered I was very careful and timid at first, and that gradually I grew very bold and reckless. A peep, and then a long stare; and then a departure from my niche and a straying out into the meadow; and a sudden stop full in front of the great mansion, and a protracted, hardy gaze towards it. “What affectation of diffidence was this at first?” they might have demanded; “what stupid regardlessness now?” Hear an illustration, reader.

A lover finds his mistress asleep on a mossy bank; he wishes to catch a glimpse of her fair face without waking her. He steals softly over the grass, careful to make no sound; he pauses—fancying she has stirred: he withdraws: not for worlds would he be seen. All is still: he again advances: he bends above her; a light veil rests on her features: he lifts it, bends lower; now his eyes anticipate the vision of beauty—warm, and blooming, and lovely, in rest. How hurried was their first glance! But how they fix! How he starts! How he suddenly and vehemently clasps in both arms the form he dared not, a moment since, touch with his finger! How he calls aloud a name, and drops his burden, and gazes on it wildly! He thus grasps and cries, and gazes, because he no longer fears to waken by any sound he can utter—by any movement he can make. He thought his love slept sweetly: he finds she is stone dead. I looked with timorous joy towards a stately house: I saw a blackened ruin. No need to cower behind a gate-post, indeed!—to peep up at chamber lattices, fearing life was astir behind them! No need to listen for doors opening—to fancy steps on the pavement or the gravel-walk! The lawn, the grounds were trodden and waste: the portal yawned void. The front was, as I had once seen it in a dream, but a well-like wall, very high and very fragile-looking, perforated with paneless windows: no roof, no battlements, no chimneys—all had crashed in. And there was the silence of death about it: the solitude of a lonesome wild.

No wonder that letters addressed to people here had never received an answer: as well despatch epistles to a vault in a church aisle. The grim blackness of the stones told by what fate the Hall had fallen—by conflagration: but how kindled? What story belonged to this disaster? What loss, besides mortar and marble and wood-work had followed upon it? Had life been wrecked as well as property? If so, whose? Dreadful question: there was no one here to answer it—not even dumb sign, mute token. In wandering round the shattered walls and through the devastated interior, I gathered evidence that the calamity was not of late occurrence. Winter snows, I thought, had drifted through that void arch, winter rains beaten in at those hollow casements; for, amidst the drenched piles of rubbish, spring had cherished vegetation: grass and weed grew here and there between the stones and fallen rafters. And oh! where meantime was the hapless owner of this wreck? In what land? Under what auspices? My eye involuntarily wandered to the grey church tower near the gates, and I asked, “Is he with Damer de Rochester, sharing the shelter of his narrow marble house?” Some answer must be had to these questions.

I could find it nowhere but at the inn, and thither, ere long, I returned. The host himself brought my breakfast into the parlour. I requested him to shut the door and sit down: I had some questions to ask him. But when he complied, I scarcely knew how to begin; such horror had I of the possible answers. And yet the spectacle of desolation I had just left prepared me in a measure for a tale of misery. The host was a respectable-looking, middle-aged man. “You know Thornfield Hall, of course?” I managed to say at last. “Yes, ma'am; I lived there once.”

“Did you?” Not in my time, I thought: you are a stranger to me. “I was the late Mr. Rochester's butler,” he added. The late!

I seem to have received, with full force, the blow I had been trying to evade. “The late!” I gasped.

“Is he dead?” “I mean the present gentleman, Mr. Edward's father,” he explained. I breathed again: my blood resumed its flow. Fully assured by these words that Mr. Edward— my Mr. Rochester (God bless him, wherever he was! )—was at least alive: was, in short, “the present gentleman.” Gladdening words! It seemed I could hear all that was to come—whatever the disclosures might be—with comparative tranquillity. Since he was not in the grave, I could bear, I thought, to learn that he was at the Antipodes. “Is Mr. Rochester living at Thornfield Hall now?” I asked, knowing, of course, what the answer would be, but yet desirous of deferring the direct question as to where he really was. “No, ma'am—oh, no!

No one is living there. I suppose you are a stranger in these parts, or you would have heard what happened last autumn,—Thornfield Hall is quite a ruin: it was burnt down just about harvest-time. A dreadful calamity! such an immense quantity of valuable property destroyed: hardly any of the furniture could be saved. The fire broke out at dead of night, and before the engines arrived from Millcote, the building was one mass of flame. It was a terrible spectacle: I witnessed it myself.” “At dead of night!” I muttered.

Yes, that was ever the hour of fatality at Thornfield. “Was it known how it originated?” I demanded. “They guessed, ma'am: they guessed.

Indeed, I should say it was ascertained beyond a doubt. You are not perhaps aware,” he continued, edging his chair a little nearer the table, and speaking low, “that there was a lady—a—a lunatic, kept in the house?” “I have heard something of it.”

“She was kept in very close confinement, ma'am: people even for some years was not absolutely certain of her existence. No one saw her: they only knew by rumour that such a person was at the Hall; and who or what she was it was difficult to conjecture. They said Mr. Edward had brought her from abroad, and some believed she had been his mistress. But a queer thing happened a year since—a very queer thing.” I feared now to hear my own story.

I endeavoured to recall him to the main fact. “And this lady?”

“This lady, ma'am,” he answered, “turned out to be Mr. Rochester's wife! The discovery was brought about in the strangest way. There was a young lady, a governess at the Hall, that Mr. Rochester fell in—” “But the fire,” I suggested.

“I'm coming to that, ma'am—that Mr. Edward fell in love with. The servants say they never saw anybody so much in love as he was: he was after her continually. They used to watch him—servants will, you know, ma'am—and he set store on her past everything: for all, nobody but him thought her so very handsome. She was a little small thing, they say, almost like a child. I never saw her myself; but I've heard Leah, the house-maid, tell of her. Leah liked her well enough. Mr. Rochester was about forty, and this governess not twenty; and you see, when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls, they are often like as if they were bewitched. Well, he would marry her.” “You shall tell me this part of the story another time,” I said; “but now I have a particular reason for wishing to hear all about the fire. Was it suspected that this lunatic, Mrs. Rochester, had any hand in it?” “You've hit it, ma'am: it's quite certain that it was her, and nobody but her, that set it going. She had a woman to take care of her called Mrs. Poole—an able woman in her line, and very trustworthy, but for one fault—a fault common to a deal of them nurses and matrons—she kept a private bottle of gin by her , and now and then took a drop over-much. It is excusable, for she had a hard life of it: but still it was dangerous; for when Mrs. Poole was fast asleep after the gin and water, the mad lady, who was as cunning as a witch, would take the keys out of her pocket, let herself out of her chamber, and go roaming about the house, doing any wild mischief that came into her head. They say she had nearly burnt her husband in his bed once: but I don't know about that. However, on this night, she set fire first to the hangings of the room next her own, and then she got down to a lower storey, and made her way to the chamber that had been the governess's—(she was like as if she knew somehow how matters had gone on, and had a spite at her)—and she kindled the bed there; but there was nobody sleeping in it, fortunately. The governess had run away two months before; and for all Mr. Rochester sought her as if she had been the most precious thing he had in the world, he never could hear a word of her; and he grew savage—quite savage on his disappointment: he never was a wild man, but he got dangerous after he lost her. He would be alone, too. He sent Mrs. Fairfax, the housekeeper, away to her friends at a distance; but he did it handsomely, for he settled an annuity on her for life: and she deserved it—she was a very good woman. Miss Adèle, a ward he had, was put to school. He broke off acquaintance with all the gentry, and shut himself up like a hermit at the Hall.” “What!

did he not leave England?” “Leave England?

Bless you, no! He would not cross the door-stones of the house, except at night, when he walked just like a ghost about the grounds and in the orchard as if he had lost his senses—which it is my opinion he had; for a more spirited, bolder, keener gentleman than he was before that midge of a governess crossed him, you never saw, ma'am. He was not a man given to wine, or cards, or racing, as some are, and he was not so very handsome; but he had a courage and a will of his own, if ever man had. I knew him from a boy, you see: and for my part, I have often wished that Miss Eyre had been sunk in the sea before she came to Thornfield Hall.” “Then Mr. Rochester was at home when the fire broke out?” “Yes, indeed was he; and he went up to the attics when all was burning above and below, and got the servants out of their beds and helped them down himself, and went back to get his mad wife out of her cell. And then they called out to him that she was on the roof, where she was standing, waving her arms, above the battlements, and shouting out till they could hear her a mile off: I saw her and heard her with my own eyes. She was a big woman, and had long black hair: we could see it streaming against the flames as she stood. I witnessed, and several more witnessed, Mr. Rochester ascend through the sky-light on to the roof; we heard him call ‘Bertha! ' We saw him approach her; and then, ma'am, she yelled and gave a spring, and the next minute she lay smashed on the pavement.” “Dead?”

“Dead!

Ay, dead as the stones on which her brains and blood were scattered.” “Good God!”

“You may well say so, ma'am: it was frightful!” He shuddered.

“And afterwards?” I urged.

“Well, ma'am, afterwards the house was burnt to the ground: there are only some bits of walls standing now.” “Were any other lives lost?”

“No—perhaps it would have been better if there had.” “What do you mean?”

“Poor Mr. Edward!” he ejaculated, “I little thought ever to have seen it! Some say it was a just judgment on him for keeping his first marriage secret, and wanting to take another wife while he had one living: but I pity him, for my part.” “You said he was alive?” I exclaimed.

“Yes, yes: he is alive; but many think he had better be dead.” “Why?

How?” My blood was again running cold. “Where is he?” I demanded. “Is he in England?” “Ay—ay—he's in England; he can't get out of England, I fancy—he's a fixture now.” What agony was this!

And the man seemed resolved to protract it. “He is stone-blind,” he said at last.

“Yes, he is stone-blind, is Mr. Edward.” I had dreaded worse.

I had dreaded he was mad. I summoned strength to ask what had caused this calamity. “It was all his own courage, and a body may say, his kindness, in a way, ma'am: he wouldn't leave the house till every one else was out before him. As he came down the great staircase at last, after Mrs. Rochester had flung herself from the battlements, there was a great crash—all fell. He was taken out from under the ruins, alive, but sadly hurt: a beam had fallen in such a way as to protect him partly; but one eye was knocked out, and one hand so crushed that Mr. Carter, the surgeon, had to amputate it directly. The other eye inflamed: he lost the sight of that also. He is now helpless, indeed—blind and a cripple.” “Where is he?

Where does he now live?” “At Ferndean, a manor-house on a farm he has, about thirty miles off: quite a desolate spot.” “Who is with him?”

“Old John and his wife: he would have none else.

He is quite broken down, they say.” “Have you any sort of conveyance?”

“We have a chaise, ma'am, a very handsome chaise.” “Let it be got ready instantly; and if your post-boy can drive me to Ferndean before dark this day, I'll pay both you and him twice the hire you usually demand.”

CHAPTER XXXVI |Chapter 36 CAPÍTULO XXXVI CAPÍTULO XXXVI BÖLÜM XXXVI

The daylight came. La lumière du jour est venue.

I rose at dawn. I busied myself for an hour or two with arranging my things in my chamber, drawers, and wardrobe, in the order wherein I should wish to leave them during a brief absence. I busied myself for an hour or two with arranging my things in my chamber, drawers, and wardrobe, in the order wherein I should wish to leave them during a brief absence. Meantime, I heard St. John quit his room. He stopped at my door: I feared he would knock—no, but a slip of paper was passed under the door. Il s'arrêta à ma porte: je craignais qu'il ne frappe - non, mais un bout de papier passa sous la porte. I took it up. It bore these words— Il portait ces mots - “You left me too suddenly last night. "Tu m'as quittée trop brusquement hier soir.

Had you stayed but a little longer, you would have laid your hand on the Christian’s cross and the angel’s crown. |||||||||||||||follower of Christ||||heavenly being's| Si vous étiez resté un peu plus longtemps, vous auriez posé la main sur la croix du chrétien et la couronne de l'ange. I shall expect your clear decision when I return this day fortnight. J'attendrai votre décision claire à mon retour cette quinzaine. Meantime, watch and pray that you enter not into temptation: the spirit, I trust, is willing, but the flesh, I see, is weak. En attendant, veillez et priez pour ne pas entrer en tentation : l'esprit, j'en suis sûr, est bien disposé, mais la chair, je le vois, est faible. I shall pray for you hourly.—Yours, St. John.” “My spirit,” I answered mentally, “is willing to do what is right; and my flesh, I hope, is strong enough to accomplish the will of Heaven, when once that will is distinctly known to me. «Mon esprit», répondis-je mentalement, «est prêt à faire ce qui est juste; et ma chair, j'espère, est assez forte pour accomplir la volonté du ciel, lorsqu'une fois cette volonté m'est distinctement connue. At any rate, it shall be strong enough to search—inquire—to grope an outlet from this cloud of doubt, and find the open day of certainty.” ||||||||||||search blindly|||||||||||||| En tout cas, il sera assez fort pour chercher - s'informer - pour tâtonner un exutoire de ce nuage de doute et trouver le jour ouvert de la certitude. It was the first of June; yet the morning was overcast and chilly: rain beat fast on my casement. C'était le premier juin; pourtant le matin était couvert et frais: la pluie battait vite sur ma croisée. I heard the front-door open, and St. John pass out. Looking through the window, I saw him traverse the garden. He took the way over the misty moors in the direction of Whitcross—there he would meet the coach. Il prit le chemin sur les landes brumeuses en direction de Whitcross - là, il rencontrait l'entraîneur. “In a few more hours I shall succeed you in that track, cousin,” thought I: “I too have a coach to meet at Whitcross. «Dans quelques heures je te succéderai sur cette piste, cousin,» pensai-je: «Moi aussi, j'ai un entraîneur à rencontrer à Whitcross. I too have some to see and ask after in England, before I depart for ever.” Moi aussi, j'ai des choses à voir et à demander en Angleterre, avant de partir pour toujours." It wanted yet two hours of breakfast-time. Il voulait encore deux heures de petit-déjeuner.

I filled the interval in walking softly about my room, and pondering the visitation which had given my plans their present bent. Je remplis l'intervalle en marchant doucement dans ma chambre et en méditant sur la visite qui avait donné à mes projets leur courbure actuelle. I recalled that inward sensation I had experienced: for I could recall it, with all its unspeakable strangeness. |||||||||||||||||oddity Je me suis souvenu de cette sensation intérieure que j'avais éprouvée: car je pouvais la rappeler, avec toute son indescriptible étrangeté. I recalled the voice I had heard; again I questioned whence it came, as vainly as before: it seemed in me —not in the external world. I asked was it a mere nervous impression—a delusion? J'ai demandé était-ce une simple impression nerveuse - une illusion? I could not conceive or believe: it was more like an inspiration. Je ne pouvais ni concevoir ni croire: c'était plutôt une inspiration. The wondrous shock of feeling had come like the earthquake which shook the foundations of Paul and Silas’s prison; it had opened the doors of the soul’s cell and loosed its bands—it had wakened it out of its sleep, whence it sprang trembling, listening, aghast; then vibrated thrice a cry on my startled ear, and in my quaking heart and through my spirit, which neither feared nor shook, but exulted as if in joy over the success of one effort it had been privileged to make, independent of the cumbrous body. |||||||||||||||||Silas's|||||||||spirit's|||released|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||trembling, shaking||||||||||||rejoiced greatly||||||||||||||||||||| Le merveilleux choc du sentiment était venu comme le tremblement de terre qui a ébranlé les fondations de la prison de Paul et Silas; elle avait ouvert les portes de la cellule de l'âme et desserré ses liens - elle l'avait réveillée de son sommeil, d'où elle jaillissait tremblante, écoutant, consternée; puis a vibré trois fois un cri sur mon oreille effrayée, et dans mon cœur tremblant et à travers mon esprit, qui ne craignait ni ne tremblait, mais exultait comme si dans la joie du succès d'un effort qu'il avait eu le privilège de faire, indépendamment du corps encombrant . “Ere many days,” I said, as I terminated my musings, “I will know something of him whose voice seemed last night to summon me. «Il y a plusieurs jours», dis-je, en mettant fin à mes réflexions, «je saurai quelque chose de lui dont la voix a semblé la nuit dernière m'appeler. Letters have proved of no avail—personal inquiry shall replace them.” Les lettres se sont avérées vaines, une enquête personnelle les remplacera. At breakfast I announced to Diana and Mary that I was going a journey, and should be absent at least four days. “Alone, Jane?” they asked.

“Yes; it was to see or hear news of a friend about whom I had for some time been uneasy.” "Oui; c'était pour voir ou entendre des nouvelles d'un ami dont je m'inquiétais depuis un certain temps. They might have said, as I have no doubt they thought, that they had believed me to be without any friends save them: for, indeed, I had often said so; but, with their true natural delicacy, they abstained from comment, except that Diana asked me if I was sure I was well enough to travel. Ils auraient pu dire, comme je ne doute pas qu'ils l'aient pensé, qu'ils m'avaient cru sans autres amis qu'eux, car, en effet, je l'avais souvent dit ; mais, avec leur vraie délicatesse naturelle, ils s'abstinrent de tout commentaire, sauf que Diana me demanda si j'étais sûr d'être assez bien portant pour voyager. I looked very pale, she observed. I replied, that nothing ailed me save anxiety of mind, which I hoped soon to alleviate. Je lui répondis que rien ne me faisait souffrir que l'inquiétude de l'esprit, que j'espérais bientôt apaiser. It was easy to make my further arrangements; for I was troubled with no inquiries—no surmises. ||||||||||||||||guesses Il était facile de faire mes autres arrangements; car j'étais troublé par aucune enquête, aucune hypothèse. Having once explained to them that I could not now be explicit about my plans, they kindly and wisely acquiesced in the silence with which I pursued them, according to me the privilege of free action I should under similar circumstances have accorded them. |||||||||||||||||||agreed quietly|||||||||||||||||||||||| Après leur avoir expliqué une fois que je ne pouvais pas maintenant être explicite sur mes projets, ils ont bien voulu et sagement acquiescé au silence avec lequel je les poursuivais, selon moi le privilège de la libre action que j'aurais dû leur accorder dans des circonstances similaires. I left Moor House at three o’clock p.m., and soon after four I stood at the foot of the sign-post of Whitcross, waiting the arrival of the coach which was to take me to distant Thornfield. Je quittai Moor House à trois heures de l'après-midi et, peu après quatre heures, je me trouvais au pied du poteau indicateur de Whitcross, attendant l'arrivée de la diligence qui devait m'emmener dans le lointain Thornfield. Amidst the silence of those solitary roads and desert hills, I heard it approach from a great distance. It was the same vehicle whence, a year ago, I had alighted one summer evening on this very spot—how desolate, and hopeless, and objectless! |||||||||||got off||||||||||||| C'était le même véhicule d'où, il y a un an, j'étais descendu un soir d'été à cet endroit même - que c'est désolé, sans espoir et sans objet! It stopped as I beckoned. I entered—not now obliged to part with my whole fortune as the price of its accommodation. J'entrai - pas maintenant obligé de me séparer de toute ma fortune comme prix de son logement. Once more on the road to Thornfield, I felt like the messenger-pigeon flying home. ||||||||||||messenger pigeon|| Une fois de plus sur la route de Thornfield, je me sentais comme le messager-pigeon rentrant chez lui. It was a journey of six-and-thirty hours. Ce fut un voyage de six et trente heures.

I had set out from Whitcross on a Tuesday afternoon, and early on the succeeding Thursday morning the coach stopped to water the horses at a wayside inn, situated in the midst of scenery whose green hedges and large fields and low pastoral hills (how mild of feature and verdant of hue compared with the stern North-Midland moors of Morton!) |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||green in color||||||||||| J'étais parti de Whitcross un mardi après-midi, et tôt le jeudi matin suivant, l'entraîneur s'est arrêté pour abreuver les chevaux dans une auberge au bord de la route, située au milieu d'un paysage dont les haies vertes, les grands champs et les basses collines pastorales (quelle douceur de caractéristique et verdoyante de teinte par rapport aux landes sévères du North-Midland de Morton!) met my eye like the lineaments of a once familiar face. a rencontré mon œil comme les linéaments d'un visage autrefois familier. Yes, I knew the character of this landscape: I was sure we were near my bourne. Oui, je connaissais le caractère de ce paysage: j'étais sûr que nous étions près de ma bourne. “How far is Thornfield Hall from here?” I asked of the ostler. |||||||||||stable worker «À quelle distance se trouve Thornfield Hall d'ici?» Ai-je demandé à l'ostler.

“Just two miles, ma’am, across the fields.” “My journey is closed,” I thought to myself.

I got out of the coach, gave a box I had into the ostler’s charge, to be kept till I called for it; paid my fare; satisfied the coachman, and was going: the brightening day gleamed on the sign of the inn, and I read in gilt letters, “The Rochester Arms.”  My heart leapt up: I was already on my master’s very lands. |||||||||||||||||||||||||fee|||||||||||||||||||||golden-colored|||||||||||||||| Je suis sorti de la voiture, j'ai donné une boîte que j'avais à la charge de l'ostler, à garder jusqu'à ce que je l'ai appelé; payé mon tarif; satisfait le cocher et s'en alla: le jour éclairant brillait sur l'enseigne de l'auberge, et je lisais en lettres dorées: «Les armoiries de Rochester». Mon cœur bondit: j'étais déjà sur les terres mêmes de mon maître. It fell again: the thought struck it:— Il retomba: la pensée le frappa: - “Your master himself may be beyond the British Channel, for aught you know: and then, if he is at Thornfield Hall, towards which you hasten, who besides him is there? «Votre maître lui-même est peut-être au-delà de la Manche britannique, pour ce que vous savez: et puis, s'il est à Thornfield Hall, vers lequel vous vous précipitez, qui est là à part lui? His lunatic wife: and you have nothing to do with him: you dare not speak to him or seek his presence. Sa femme folle: et vous n'avez rien à voir avec lui: vous n'osez pas lui parler ni chercher sa présence. You have lost your labour—you had better go no farther,” urged the monitor. Vous avez perdu votre travail - il vaut mieux ne pas aller plus loin », a insisté le moniteur. “Ask information of the people at the inn; they can give you all you seek: they can solve your doubts at once. Go up to that man, and inquire if Mr. Rochester be at home.” Allez voir cet homme et demandez si M. Rochester est à la maison. The suggestion was sensible, and yet I could not force myself to act on it. La suggestion était sensée, et pourtant je ne pouvais pas me forcer à y donner suite. I so dreaded a reply that would crush me with despair. J'avais tellement peur d'une réponse qui m'écraserait de désespoir. To prolong doubt was to prolong hope. I might yet once more see the Hall under the ray of her star. Je pourrais encore une fois revoir la salle sous le rayon de son étoile. There was the stile before me—the very fields through which I had hurried, blind, deaf, distracted with a revengeful fury tracking and scourging me, on the morning I fled from Thornfield: ere I well knew what course I had resolved to take, I was in the midst of them. |||||||||||||||||||vengeful||||whipping|||||||||||||||||||||||||| Il y avait le stile devant moi - les champs mêmes à travers lesquels je m'étais précipité, aveugle, sourd, distrait par une fureur vengeresse qui me traquait et me flagellait, le matin je me suis enfui de Thornfield: avant de bien savoir quel cours j'avais décidé de prendre, J'étais au milieu d'eux. How fast I walked! How I ran sometimes! Comme j'ai couru parfois! How I looked forward to catch the first view of the well-known woods! Comme j'avais hâte de voir la première vue des bois bien connus! With what feelings I welcomed single trees I knew, and familiar glimpses of meadow and hill between them! Avec quels sentiments j'ai accueilli des arbres isolés que je connaissais, et des aperçus familiers de prairie et de colline entre eux! At last the woods rose; the rookery clustered dark; a loud cawing broke the morning stillness. Enfin les bois se levèrent; la colonie s'est regroupée dans l'obscurité; un grand croassement rompit l'immobilité du matin. Strange delight inspired me: on I hastened. Another field crossed—a lane threaded—and there were the courtyard walls—the back offices: the house itself, the rookery still hid. Un autre champ traversait - une ruelle filetée - et il y avait les murs de la cour - les arrière-bureaux: la maison elle-même, la colonie se cachait encore. “My first view of it shall be in front,” I determined, “where its bold battlements will strike the eye nobly at once, and where I can single out my master’s very window: perhaps he will be standing at it—he rises early: perhaps he is now walking in the orchard, or on the pavement in front. «Ma première vue de celui-ci sera en face,» j'ai déterminé, «où ses créneaux audacieux frappera noblement l'œil à la fois, et où je peux distinguer la fenêtre même de mon maître: peut-être qu'il se tiendra à elle - il se lève tôt : peut-être marche-t-il maintenant dans le verger, ou sur le trottoir devant. Could I but see him!—but a moment! Ne pourrais-je que le voir! - mais un instant! Surely, in that case, I should not be so mad as to run to him? Sûrement, dans ce cas, je ne devrais pas être assez fou pour courir vers lui? I cannot tell—I am not certain. And if I did—what then? God bless him! Que Dieu le bénisse! What then? Who would be hurt by my once more tasting the life his glance can give me? ||||||||sampling||||||| Qui serait blessé si je goûte une fois de plus la vie que son regard peut me donner? I rave: perhaps at this moment he is watching the sun rise over the Pyrenees, or on the tideless sea of the south.” ||||||||||||||mountain range||||without tides|||| Je suis ravi: peut-être en ce moment regarde-t-il le soleil se lever sur les Pyrénées, ou sur la mer sans marée du sud. I had coasted along the lower wall of the orchard—turned its angle: there was a gate just there, opening into the meadow, between two stone pillars crowned by stone balls. ||glided, moved smoothly|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| J'avais longé le mur inférieur du verger - tourné son angle: il y avait juste là une porte, ouvrant sur le pré, entre deux piliers de pierre couronnés de boules de pierre. From behind one pillar I could peep round quietly at the full front of the mansion. I advanced my head with precaution, desirous to ascertain if any bedroom window-blinds were yet drawn up: battlements, windows, long front—all from this sheltered station were at my command. J'avançai la tête avec précaution, désireux de vérifier si des stores de chambre à coucher n'étaient pas encore dressés: créneaux, fenêtres, longue façade, tout de cette station abritée était à ma disposition. The crows sailing overhead perhaps watched me while I took this survey. ||flying|||||||||study Les corbeaux qui naviguaient au-dessus de ma tête m'ont peut-être regardé pendant que je participais à cette enquête. I wonder what they thought. They must have considered I was very careful and timid at first, and that gradually I grew very bold and reckless. They must have considered I was very careful and timid at first, and that gradually I grew very bold and reckless. Ils ont dû considérer que j'étais très prudent et timide au début, et que progressivement je suis devenu très audacieux et imprudent. A peep, and then a long stare; and then a departure from my niche and a straying out into the meadow; and a sudden stop full in front of the great mansion, and a protracted, hardy gaze towards it. Un coup d'œil, puis un long regard; puis un départ de ma niche et une fuite dans la prairie; et un arrêt soudain plein devant le grand manoir, et un regard prolongé et dur vers lui. “What affectation of diffidence was this at first?” they might have demanded; “what stupid regardlessness now?” ||||||||||||||indifference| «Quelle affectation de la méfiance était-ce au début?» ils auraient pu exiger; "Quelle stupide indifférence maintenant?" Hear an illustration, reader.

A lover finds his mistress asleep on a mossy bank; he wishes to catch a glimpse of her fair face without waking her. Un amant trouve sa maîtresse endormie sur une rive moussue; il souhaite apercevoir son beau visage sans la réveiller. He steals softly over the grass, careful to make no sound; he pauses—fancying she has stirred: he withdraws: not for worlds would he be seen. |takes without permission|||||||||||||||||retreats quietly||||||| Il vole doucement sur l'herbe, prenant soin de ne faire aucun bruit; il s'arrête - croyant qu'elle a remué: il se retire: on ne le verrait pas pour des mondes. All is still: he again advances: he bends above her; a light veil rests on her features: he lifts it, bends lower; now his eyes anticipate the vision of beauty—warm, and blooming, and lovely, in rest. |||||||||||||lies gently||||||||||||||||||||||| Tout est encore: il avance de nouveau: il se penche au-dessus d'elle; un léger voile repose sur ses traits: il le soulève, se penche plus bas; maintenant ses yeux anticipent la vision de la beauté - chaude, épanouie et belle, au repos. How hurried was their first glance! Comme leur premier regard était pressé! But how they fix! How he starts! How he suddenly and vehemently clasps in both arms the form he dared not, a moment since, touch with his finger! ||||intensely passionate|embraces tightly||||||||||||||| Comme il serre brusquement et avec véhémence dans ses deux bras la forme qu'il n'osait pas, un instant depuis, toucher avec son doigt! How he calls aloud a name, and drops his burden, and gazes on it wildly! |||||||||||stares at||| Comme il appelle à haute voix un nom, laisse tomber son fardeau et le regarde follement! He thus grasps and cries, and gazes, because he no longer fears to waken by any sound he can utter—by any movement he can make. ||understands or comprehends||||||||||||||||||||||| Il saisit ainsi, pleure et regarde, parce qu'il ne craint plus de se réveiller par aucun son qu'il peut prononcer - par aucun mouvement qu'il peut faire. He thought his love slept sweetly: he finds she is stone dead. Il pensait que son amour dormait doucement: il découvre qu'elle est morte de pierre. I looked with timorous joy towards a stately house: I saw a blackened ruin. |||fearful, hesitant|||||||||| J'ai regardé avec une joie timide vers une maison majestueuse: j'ai vu une ruine noircie. No need to cower behind a gate-post, indeed!—to peep up at chamber lattices, fearing life was astir behind them! |||shrink back|||||||||||windows|||||| Inutile de se recroqueviller derrière un poteau de porte, en effet! - de regarder les treillis des chambres, craignant que la vie ne bouge derrière eux! No need to listen for doors opening—to fancy steps on the pavement or the gravel-walk! Inutile d'écouter l'ouverture des portes - les marches fantaisistes sur le trottoir ou le chemin de gravier! The lawn, the grounds were trodden and waste: the portal yawned void. La pelouse, le terrain étaient foulés et dévastés: le portail bâillait de vide. The front was, as I had once seen it in a dream, but a well-like wall, very high and very fragile-looking, perforated with paneless windows: no roof, no battlements, no chimneys—all had crashed in. |||||||||||||||||||||||punctured by||without panels||||||||||| La façade était, comme je l'avais vu une fois dans un rêve, mais un mur en forme de puits, très haut et d'apparence très fragile, percé de fenêtres sans vitre: pas de toit, pas de créneaux, pas de cheminées - tout s'était écrasé. And there was the silence of death about it: the solitude of a lonesome wild. Et il y avait le silence de la mort à ce sujet: la solitude d'un sauvage solitaire.

No wonder that letters addressed to people here had never received an answer: as well despatch epistles to a vault in a church aisle. ||||||||||||||||letters||||||| Il n'est pas étonnant que les lettres adressées aux gens d'ici n'aient jamais reçu de réponse: expédiez également des épîtres dans un caveau dans l'allée d'une église. The grim blackness of the stones told by what fate the Hall had fallen—by conflagration: but how kindled? L'obscurité sombre des pierres racontait par quel sort la salle était tombée - par incendie: mais comment allumée? What story belonged to this disaster? What loss, besides mortar and marble and wood-work had followed upon it? |||masonry||||||||| Quelle perte, outre le mortier, le marbre et le travail du bois, s'en est suivi? Had life been wrecked as well as property? |||destroyed|||| La vie avait-elle été détruite ainsi que la propriété? If so, whose? Dreadful question: there was no one here to answer it—not even dumb sign, mute token. Question épouvantable: il n'y avait personne ici pour y répondre - pas même un signe muet, un signe muet. In wandering round the shattered walls and through the devastated interior, I gathered evidence that the calamity was not of late occurrence. |||||||||ruined|||||||disaster||||| En errant autour des murs brisés et à travers l'intérieur dévasté, j'ai recueilli des preuves que la calamité n'était pas tardive. Winter snows, I thought, had drifted through that void arch, winter rains beaten in at those hollow casements; for, amidst the drenched piles of rubbish, spring had cherished vegetation: grass and weed grew here and there between the stones and fallen rafters. Les neiges hivernales, pensai-je, avaient dérivé à travers cette voûte vide, les pluies hivernales frappaient ces vantaux creux; car, au milieu des tas de détritus trempés, le printemps avait caressé la végétation: l'herbe et l'herbe poussaient çà et là entre les pierres et les chevrons tombés. And oh! where meantime was the hapless owner of this wreck? ||||unfortunate|||| où était en attendant l'infortuné propriétaire de cette épave? In what land? Under what auspices? ||sponsorship or support My eye involuntarily wandered to the grey church tower near the gates, and I asked, “Is he with Damer de Rochester, sharing the shelter of his narrow marble house?” Mon œil a erré involontairement vers le clocher gris de l'église près des portes, et j'ai demandé: «Est-il avec Damer de Rochester, partageant l'abri de sa petite maison de marbre? Some answer must be had to these questions.

I could find it nowhere but at the inn, and thither, ere long, I returned. Je ne pouvais le trouver nulle part sauf à l'auberge, et là, bientôt, j'y suis retourné. The host himself brought my breakfast into the parlour. L'hôte lui-même a apporté mon petit déjeuner dans le salon. I requested him to shut the door and sit down: I had some questions to ask him. But when he complied, I scarcely knew how to begin; such horror had I of the possible answers. Mais quand il s'exécuta, je savais à peine par où commencer; une telle horreur avais-je des réponses possibles. And yet the spectacle of desolation I had just left prepared me in a measure for a tale of misery. Et pourtant le spectacle de désolation que je venais de quitter me préparait en quelque sorte à un conte de misère. The host was a respectable-looking, middle-aged man. “You know Thornfield Hall, of course?” I managed to say at last. “Yes, ma’am; I lived there once.”

“Did you?”  Not in my time, I thought: you are a stranger to me. “I was the late Mr. Rochester’s butler,” he added. The late!

I seem to have received, with full force, the blow I had been trying to evade. |||||||||||||||avoid Il me semble avoir reçu de plein fouet le coup que j'essayais d'échapper. “The late!” I gasped.

“Is he dead?” “I mean the present gentleman, Mr. Edward’s father,” he explained. ||||||Edward's||| "Je veux parler du monsieur actuel, le père de M. Edward", explique-t-il. I breathed again: my blood resumed its flow. Fully assured by these words that Mr. Edward— my Mr. Rochester (God bless him, wherever he was! Pleinement assurée par ces mots que M. Edward - mon M. Rochester (que Dieu le bénisse, où qu'il soit ! )—was at least alive: was, in short, “the present gentleman.”  Gladdening words! ||||||||||joyful| It seemed I could hear all that was to come—whatever the disclosures might be—with comparative tranquillity. Il me semblait que je pouvais entendre tout ce qui allait venir - quelles qu'en soient les révélations - avec une relative tranquillité. Since he was not in the grave, I could bear, I thought, to learn that he was at the Antipodes. Comme il n'était pas dans la tombe, je pourrais supporter, pensai-je, d'apprendre qu'il était aux Antipodes. “Is Mr. Rochester living at Thornfield Hall now?” I asked, knowing, of course, what the answer would be, but yet desirous of deferring the direct question as to where he really was. ||||||||||||||||||||||postponing||||||||| “No, ma’am—oh, no!

No one is living there. I suppose you are a stranger in these parts, or you would have heard what happened last autumn,—Thornfield Hall is quite a ruin: it was burnt down just about harvest-time. Je suppose que vous êtes étranger à ces régions, sinon vous auriez entendu parler de ce qui s'est passé l'automne dernier : Thornfield Hall n'est plus qu'une ruine : il a été incendié juste au moment de la récolte. A dreadful calamity! such an immense quantity of valuable property destroyed: hardly any of the furniture could be saved. The fire broke out at dead of night, and before the engines arrived from Millcote, the building was one mass of flame. |||||||||||fire trucks|||||||||| L'incendie a éclaté à la nuit tombée, et avant l'arrivée des moteurs de Millcote, le bâtiment était une masse de flammes. It was a terrible spectacle: I witnessed it myself.” “At dead of night!” I muttered.

Yes, that was ever the hour of fatality at Thornfield. |||||||fatal|| Oui, ce fut toujours l'heure de la fatalité à Thornfield. “Was it known how it originated?” I demanded. «Était-il connu comment il est né?» Ai-je demandé. “They guessed, ma’am: they guessed.

Indeed, I should say it was ascertained beyond a doubt. En fait, je devrais dire qu'il a été établi sans aucun doute. You are not perhaps aware,” he continued, edging his chair a little nearer the table, and speaking low, “that there was a lady—a—a lunatic, kept in the house?” “I have heard something of it.”

“She was kept in very close confinement, ma’am: people even for some years was not absolutely certain of her existence. ||||||isolation||||||||||||| «Elle a été maintenue dans un confinement très étroit, madame: les gens, même pendant quelques années, n'étaient pas absolument certains de son existence. No one saw her: they only knew by rumour that such a person was at the Hall; and who or what she was it was difficult to conjecture. Personne ne l'a vue: ils savaient seulement par la rumeur qu'une telle personne était à la salle; et qui ou quoi elle était il était difficile de conjecturer. They said Mr. Edward had brought her from abroad, and some believed she had been his mistress. But a queer thing happened a year since—a very queer thing.” I feared now to hear my own story. J'avais peur maintenant d'entendre ma propre histoire.

I endeavoured to recall him to the main fact. “And this lady?”

“This lady, ma’am,” he answered, “turned out to be Mr. Rochester’s wife! «Cette dame, madame,» répondit-il, «s'est avérée être la femme de M. Rochester! The discovery was brought about in the strangest way. La découverte s'est faite de la manière la plus étrange. There was a young lady, a governess at the Hall, that Mr. Rochester fell in—” “But the fire,” I suggested.

“I’m coming to that, ma’am—that Mr. Edward fell in love with. The servants say they never saw anybody so much in love as he was: he was after her continually. They used to watch him—servants will, you know, ma’am—and he set store on her past everything: for all, nobody but him thought her so very handsome. Ils avaient l'habitude de le surveiller - les serviteurs le feront, vous savez, madame - et il mettait en valeur son passé: pour tous, personne d'autre que lui ne la trouvait si belle. She was a little small thing, they say, almost like a child. I never saw her myself; but I’ve heard Leah, the house-maid, tell of her. Je ne l'ai jamais vue moi-même, mais j'ai entendu Leah, la femme de ménage, parler d'elle. Leah liked her well enough. Mr. Rochester was about forty, and this governess not twenty; and you see, when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls, they are often like as if they were bewitched. M. Rochester avait environ quarante ans, et cette gouvernante pas vingt; et vous voyez, quand des messieurs de son âge tombent amoureux des filles, elles sont souvent comme si elles étaient ensorcelées. Well, he would marry her.” “You shall tell me this part of the story another time,” I said; “but now I have a particular reason for wishing to hear all about the fire. Was it suspected that this lunatic, Mrs. Rochester, had any hand in it?” A-t-on soupçonné cette folle, Mme Rochester, d'y être pour quelque chose ?" “You’ve hit it, ma’am: it’s quite certain that it was her, and nobody but her, that set it going. «Vous l'avez frappé, madame: il est tout à fait certain que c'est elle, et personne d'autre qu'elle, qui l'a mis en marche. She had a woman to take care of her called Mrs. Poole—an able woman in her line, and very trustworthy, but for one fault—a fault common to a deal of them nurses and matrons—she kept a private bottle of gin by her , and now and then took a drop over-much. |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||nursing staff|||||||||alcoholic beverage||||||||||| Elle avait une femme pour s'occuper d'elle appelée Mme Poole - une femme compétente dans sa lignée, et très digne de confiance, mais pour une faute - une faute commune à beaucoup d'infirmières et de matrones - elle gardait une bouteille de gin privée par elle, et de temps en temps pris une goutte de trop. It is excusable, for she had a hard life of it: but still it was dangerous; for when Mrs. Poole was fast asleep after the gin and water, the mad lady, who was as cunning as a witch, would take the keys out of her pocket, let herself out of her chamber, and go roaming about the house, doing any wild mischief that came into her head. ||justifiable|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| C'est excusable, car elle en a eu une dure vie: mais c'était toujours dangereux; car lorsque Mme Poole dormait profondément après le gin et l'eau, la folle, qui était aussi rusée qu'une sorcière, sortait les clés de sa poche, se laissait sortir de sa chambre et se promenait dans la maison, faisant tout méfait sauvage qui lui est venu à l'esprit. They say she had nearly burnt her husband in his bed once: but I don’t know about that. However, on this night, she set fire first to the hangings of the room next her own, and then she got down to a lower storey, and made her way to the chamber that had been the governess’s—(she was like as if she knew somehow how matters had gone on, and had a spite at her)—and she kindled the bed there; but there was nobody sleeping in it, fortunately. Cependant, cette nuit-là, elle a mis le feu d'abord aux tentures de la pièce voisine de la sienne, puis elle est descendue à un étage inférieur et s'est dirigée vers la chambre qui avait appartenu à la gouvernante - (elle était comme si elle savait d'une manière ou d'une autre comment les choses s'étaient déroulées et lui en voulait) - et elle y alluma le lit; mais il n'y avait personne qui dormait dedans, heureusement. The governess had run away two months before; and for all Mr. Rochester sought her as if she had been the most precious thing he had in the world, he never could hear a word of her; and he grew savage—quite savage on his disappointment: he never was a wild man, but he got dangerous after he lost her. La gouvernante s'était enfuie deux mois auparavant; et pour tout M. Rochester l'a recherchée comme si elle avait été la chose la plus précieuse qu'il avait dans le monde, il n'a jamais pu entendre un mot d'elle; et il est devenu sauvage - tout à fait sauvage sur sa déception: il n'a jamais été un homme sauvage, mais il est devenu dangereux après l'avoir perdue. He would be alone, too. Il serait aussi seul. He sent Mrs. Fairfax, the housekeeper, away to her friends at a distance; but he did it handsomely, for he settled an annuity on her for life: and she deserved it—she was a very good woman. |||||||||||||||||generously|||||yearly payment|||||||||||||| Il envoya Mme Fairfax, la femme de ménage, chez ses amis à distance; mais il le fit généreusement, car il lui paya une rente à vie: et elle le méritait, c'était une très bonne femme. Miss Adèle, a ward he had, was put to school. Mlle Adèle, une salle qu'il avait, a été mise à l'école. He broke off acquaintance with all the gentry, and shut himself up like a hermit at the Hall.” ||||||||||||||recluse||| Il a rompu la connaissance de toute la noblesse et s'est enfermé comme un ermite dans la salle. “What!

did he not leave England?” “Leave England?

Bless you, no! He would not cross the door-stones of the house, except at night, when he walked just like a ghost about the grounds and in the orchard as if he had lost his senses—which it is my opinion he had; for a more spirited, bolder, keener gentleman than he was before that midge of a governess crossed him, you never saw, ma’am. |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||small insect||||||||| Il ne franchirait pas les pierres des portes de la maison, sauf la nuit, quand il marchait comme un fantôme sur les terres et dans le verger comme s'il avait perdu la raison - ce qu'il avait à mon avis; pour un gentleman plus fougueux, plus audacieux, plus vif qu'il ne l'était avant que ce moucheron d'une gouvernante ne le traverse, vous ne l'avez jamais vu, madame. He was not a man given to wine, or cards, or racing, as some are, and he was not so very handsome; but he had a courage and a will of his own, if ever man had. Ce n'était pas un homme passionné de vin, de cartes ou de courses, comme certains le sont, et il n'était pas si beau; mais il avait un courage et une volonté propres, si jamais l'homme en avait. I knew him from a boy, you see: and for my part, I have often wished that Miss Eyre had been sunk in the sea before she came to Thornfield Hall.” Je l'ai connu enfant, voyez-vous, et pour ma part, j'ai souvent souhaité que Miss Eyre soit engloutie dans la mer avant de venir à Thornfield Hall." “Then Mr. Rochester was at home when the fire broke out?” "M. Rochester était donc chez lui lorsque l'incendie s'est déclaré ?" “Yes, indeed was he; and he went up to the attics when all was burning above and below, and got the servants out of their beds and helped them down himself, and went back to get his mad wife out of her cell. «Oui, en effet l'était-il; et il monta aux greniers quand tout brûlait en haut et en bas, et fit sortir les serviteurs de leurs lits et les aida à descendre lui-même, et il retourna chercher sa femme folle hors de sa cellule. And then they called out to him that she was on the roof, where she was standing, waving her arms, above the battlements, and shouting out till they could hear her a mile off: I saw her and heard her with my own eyes. Et puis ils lui ont crié qu'elle était sur le toit, là où elle se tenait, agitant ses bras, au-dessus des créneaux, et criant jusqu'à ce qu'ils puissent l'entendre à un mille de distance: je l'ai vue et l'ai entendue de mes propres yeux. She was a big woman, and had long black hair: we could see it streaming against the flames as she stood. She was a big woman, and had long black hair: we could see it streaming against the flames as she stood. C'était une grande femme, et elle avait de longs cheveux noirs: on pouvait les voir couler contre les flammes alors qu'elle se tenait debout. I witnessed, and several more witnessed, Mr. Rochester ascend through the sky-light on to the roof; we heard him call ‘Bertha! J'ai vu, et plusieurs autres témoins, M. Rochester monter à travers la lumière du ciel sur le toit; nous l'avons entendu appeler «Bertha! '  We saw him approach her; and then, ma’am, she yelled and gave a spring, and the next minute she lay smashed on the pavement.” «Nous l'avons vu s'approcher d'elle; et puis, madame, elle a crié et a donné un ressort, et la minute suivante, elle s'est étendue brisée sur le trottoir. “Dead?”

“Dead!

Ay, dead as the stones on which her brains and blood were scattered.” Oui, morte comme les pierres sur lesquelles sa cervelle et son sang ont été dispersés. “Good God!”

“You may well say so, ma’am: it was frightful!” «Vous pouvez bien le dire, madame: c'était affreux! He shuddered.

“And afterwards?” I urged.

“Well, ma’am, afterwards the house was burnt to the ground: there are only some bits of walls standing now.” «Eh bien, madame, après, la maison a été incendiée: il n'y a plus que quelques morceaux de murs debout maintenant. “Were any other lives lost?”

“No—perhaps it would have been better if there had.” «Non, peut-être que ça aurait été mieux s'il y en avait eu. “What do you mean?”

“Poor Mr. Edward!” he ejaculated, “I little thought ever to have seen it! «Pauvre M. Edward! il a éjaculé: «Je n'ai pas pensé l'avoir jamais vu! Some say it was a just judgment on him for keeping his first marriage secret, and wanting to take another wife while he had one living: but I pity him, for my part.” Certains disent que c'était un juste jugement sur lui pour avoir gardé secret son premier mariage et avoir voulu prendre une autre femme alors qu'il en avait une en vie: mais j'ai pitié de lui, pour ma part. “You said he was alive?” I exclaimed.

“Yes, yes: he is alive; but many think he had better be dead.” «Oui, oui: il est vivant; mais beaucoup pensent qu'il ferait mieux d'être mort. “Why?

How?”  My blood was again running cold. “Where is he?” I demanded. “Is he in England?” “Ay—ay—he’s in England; he can’t get out of England, I fancy—he’s a fixture now.” «Oui, oui, il est en Angleterre; il ne peut pas sortir d'Angleterre, j'imagine - c'est un incontournable maintenant. What agony was this! Quelle agonie était-ce!

And the man seemed resolved to protract it. Et l'homme semblait résolu à le prolonger. “He is stone-blind,” he said at last. ||blind|||||

“Yes, he is stone-blind, is Mr. Edward.” «Oui, il est aveugle, c'est M. Edward. I had dreaded worse. J'avais redouté pire.

I had dreaded he was mad. I summoned strength to ask what had caused this calamity. J'ai rassemblé la force pour demander ce qui avait causé cette calamité. “It was all his own courage, and a body may say, his kindness, in a way, ma’am: he wouldn’t leave the house till every one else was out before him. «C'était tout son courage, et un corps peut dire, sa gentillesse, d'une certaine manière, madame: il ne quitterait pas la maison tant que tout le monde ne serait pas sorti avant lui. As he came down the great staircase at last, after Mrs. Rochester had flung herself from the battlements, there was a great crash—all fell. Lorsqu'il descendit enfin le grand escalier, après que Mme Rochester se fut jetée du haut des remparts, il y eut un grand fracas - tout tomba. He was taken out from under the ruins, alive, but sadly hurt: a beam had fallen in such a way as to protect him partly; but one eye was knocked out, and one hand so crushed that Mr. Carter, the surgeon, had to amputate it directly. |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||remove limb|| Il fut sorti de sous les ruines, vivant, mais tristement blessé: une poutre était tombée de manière à le protéger en partie; mais un œil a été assommé et une main tellement écrasée que M. Carter, le chirurgien, a dû l'amputer directement. The other eye inflamed: he lost the sight of that also. He is now helpless, indeed—blind and a cripple.” |||unable to act|||||disabled person Il est maintenant sans défense, en effet - aveugle et infirme. “Where is he?

Where does he now live?” “At Ferndean, a manor-house on a farm he has, about thirty miles off: quite a desolate spot.” «A Ferndean, un manoir dans une ferme qu'il possède, à une trentaine de kilomètres de là: un endroit assez désolé. “Who is with him?”

“Old John and his wife: he would have none else. «Le vieux John et sa femme: il n'en voudrait pas d'autre.

He is quite broken down, they say.” Il est assez en panne, disent-ils. “Have you any sort of conveyance?” «Avez-vous une sorte de moyen de transport?»

“We have a chaise, ma’am, a very handsome chaise.” «Nous avons une chaise, madame, une très belle chaise longue. “Let it be got ready instantly; and if your post-boy can drive me to Ferndean before dark this day, I’ll pay both you and him twice the hire you usually demand.” ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||fare or fee||| «Qu'il soit prêt instantanément; et si votre post-garçon peut me conduire à Ferndean avant la tombée de la nuit ce jour-là, je vous paierai à vous et à lui deux fois le prix que vous exigez habituellement.