part03- 第6部分

reigned　there　in　splendor。　As　I　passed　beneath　the　fated　halls　of

the　Tower　of　Comares　on　the　way　to　my　chamber；　I　called　to　mind　a

quotation；　that　used　to　thrill　me　in　the　days　of　boyhood：



　　　　　　　　　Fate　sits　on　these　dark　battlements　and　frowns；

　　　　　　　　　And；　as　the　portal　opens　to　receive　me；

　　　　　　　　　A　voice　in　sullen　echoes　through　the　courts

　　　　　　　　　Tells　of　a　nameless　deed！



　　The　whole　family　escorted　me　to　my　chamber；　and　took　leave　of　me

as　of　one　engaged　on　a　perilous　enterprise；　and　when　I　heard　their

retreating　steps　die　away　along　the　waste　antechambers　and　echoing

galleries；　and　turned　the　key　of　my　door；　I　was　reminded　of　those

hobgoblin　stories；　where　the　hero　is　left　to　accomplish　the

adventure　of　an　enchanted　house。

　　Even　the　thoughts　of　the　fair　Elizabetta　and　the　beauties　of　her

court；　who　had　once　graced　these　chambers；　now；　by　a　perversion　of

fancy；　added　to　the　gloom。　Here　was　the　scene　of　their　transient

gayety　and　loveliness；　here　were　the　very　traces　of　their　elegance　and

enjoyment；　but　what　and　where　were　they？…　Dust　and　ashes！　tenants　of

the　tomb！　phantoms　of　the　memory！

　　A　vague　and　indescribable　awe　was　creeping　over　me。　I　would　fain

have　ascribed　it　to　the　thoughts　of　robbers　awakened　by　the

evening's　conversation；　but　I　felt　it　was　something　more　unreal　and

absurd。　The　long…buried　superstitions　of　the　nursery　were　reviving；

and　asserting　their　power　over　my　imagination。　Every　thing　began　to　be

affected　by　the　working　of　my　mind。　The　whispering　of　the　wind；

among　the　citron…trees　beneath　my　window；　had　something　sinister。　I

cast　my　eyes　into　the　garden　of　Lindaraxa；　the　groves　presented　a　gulf

of　shadows；　the　thickets；　indistinct　and　ghastly　shapes。　I　was　glad　to

close　the　window；　but　my　chamber　itself　became　infected。　There　was　a

slight　rustling　noise　overhead；　a　bat　suddenly　emerged　from　a　broken

panel　of　the　ceiling；　flitting　about　the　room　and　athwart　my

solitary　lamp；　and　as　the　fateful　bird　almost　flouted　my　face　with　his

noiseless　wing；　the　grotesque　faces　carved　in　high　relief　in　the　cedar

ceiling；　whence　he　had　emerged；　seemed　to　mope　and　mow　at　me。

　　Rousing　myself；　and　half　smiling　at　this　temporary　weakness；　I

resolved　to　brave　it　out　in　the　true　spirit　of　the　hero　of　the

enchanted　house；　so；　taking　lamp　in　hand；　I　sallied　forth　to　make　a

tour　of　the　palace。　Notwithstanding　every　mental　exertion　the　task　was

a　severe　one。　I　had　to　traverse　waste　halls　and　mysterious

galleries；　where　the　rays　of　the　lamp　extended　but　a　short　distance

around　me。　I　walked；　as　it　were；　in　a　mere　halo　of　light；　walled　in　by

impenetrable　darkness。　The　vaulted　corridors　were　as　caverns；　the

ceilings　of　the　halls　were　lost　in　gloom。　I　recalled　all　that　had　been

said　of　the　danger　from　interlopers　in　these　remote　and　ruined

apartments。　Might　not　some　vagrant　foe　be　lurking　before　or　behind　me；

in　the　outer　darkness？　My　own　shadow；　cast　upon　the　wall；　began　to

disturb　me。　The　echoes　of　my　own　footsteps　along　the　corridors　made　me

pause　and　look　round。　I　was　traversing　scenes　fraught　with　dismal

recollections。　One　dark　passage　led　down　to　the　mosque　where　Yusef；

the　Moorish　monarch；　the　finisher　of　the　Alhambra；　had　been　basely

murdered。　In　another　place；　I　trod　the　gallery　where　another　monarch

had　been　struck　down　by　the　poniard　of　a　relative　whom　he　had　thwarted

in　his　love。

　　A　low　murmuring　sound；　as　of　stifled　voices　and　clanking　chains；　now

reached　me。　It　seemed　to　come　from　the　Hall　of　the　Abencerrages。　I

knew　it　to　be　the　rush　of　water　through　subterranean　channels；　but

it　sounded　strangely　in　the　night；　and　reminded　me　of　the　dismal

stories　to　which　it　had　given　rise。

　　Soon；　however；　my　ear　was　assailed　by　sounds　too　fearfully　real　to

be　the　work　of　fancy。　As　I　was　crossing　the　Hall　of　Ambassadors；　low

moans　and　broken　ejaculations　rose；　as　it　were；　from　beneath　my

feet。　I　paused　and　listened。　They　then　appeared　to　be　outside　of　the

tower…　then　again　within。　Then　broke　forth　howlings　as　of　an　animal…

then　stifled　shrieks　and　inarticulate　ravings。　Heard　in　that　dead　hour

and　singular　place；　the　effect　was　thrilling。　I　had　no　desire　for

further　perambulation；　but　returned　to　my　chamber　with　infinitely　more

alacrity　than　I　had　sallied　forth；　and　drew　my　breath　more　freely　when

once　more　within　its　walls　and　the　door　bolted　behind　me。　When　I　awoke

in　the　morning；　with　the　sun　shining　in　at　my　window　and　lighting　up

every　part　of　the　building　with　his　cheerful　and　truth…telling

beams；　I　could　scarcely　recall　the　shadows　and　fancies　conjured　up

by　the　gloom　of　the　preceding　night；　or　believe　that　the　scenes　around

me；　so　naked　and　apparent；　could　have　been　clothed　with　such　imaginary

horrors。

　　Still；　the　dismal　howlings　and　ejaculations　I　had　heard　were　not

ideal；　they　were　soon　accounted　for；　however；　by　my　handmaid

Dolores：　being　the　ravings　of　a　poor　maniac；　a　brother　of　her　aunt；

who　was　subject　to　violent　paroxysms；　during　which　he　was　confined

in　a　vaulted　room　beneath　the　Hall　of　Ambassadors。

　　In　the　course　of　a　few　evenings　a　thorough　change　took　place　in

the　scene　and　its　associations。　The　moon；　which　when　I　took　possession

of　my　new　apartments　was　invisible；　gradually　gained　each　evening　upon

the　darkness　of　the　night；　and　at　length　rolled　in　full　splendor　above

the　towers；　pouring　a　flood　of　tempered　light　into　every　court　and

hall。　The　garden　beneath　my　window；　before　wrapped　in　gloom；　was

gently　lighted　up；　the　orange　and　citron　trees　were　tipped　with

silver；　the　fountain　sparkled　in　the　moonbeams；　and　even　the　blush

of　the　rose　was　faintly　visible。

　　I　now　felt　the　poetic　merit　of　the　Arabic　inscription　on　the

walls：　〃How　beauteous　is　this　garden；　where　the　flowers　of　the　earth

vie　with　the　stars　of　the　heaven！　What　can　compare　with　the　vase　of

yon　alabaster　fountain　filled　with　crystal　water？　Nothing　but　the　moon

in　her　fulness；　shining　in　the　midst　of　an　unclouded　sky！〃

　　On　such　heavenly　nights　I　would　sit　for　hours　at　my　window

inhaling　the　sweetness　of　the　garden；　and　musing　on　the　checkered

fortunes　of　those　whose　history　was　dimly　shadowed　out　in　the

elegant　memorials　around。　Sometimes；　when　all　was　quiet；　and　the　clock

from　the　distant　cathedral　of　Granada　struck　the　midnight　hour；　I　have

sallied　out　on　another　tour　and　wandered　over　the　whole　building；

but　how　different　from　my　first　tour！　No　longer　dark　and　mysterious；

no　longer　peopled　with　shadowy　foes；　no　longer　recalling　scenes　of

violence　and　murder；　all　was　open；　spacious；　beautiful；　every　thing

called　up　pleasing　and　romantic　fancies；　Lindaraxa　once　more　walked　in

her　garden；　the　gay　chivalry　of　Moslem　Granada　once　more　glittered

about　the　Court　of　Lions！　Who　can　do　justice　to　a　moonlight　night　in

such　a　climate　and　such　a　place？　The　temperature　of　a　summer

midnight　in　Andalusia　is　perfectly　ethereal。　We　seem　lifted　up　into

a　purer　atmosphere；　we　feel　a　serenity　of　soul；　a　buoyancy　of　spirits；

an　elasticity　of　frame；　which　render　mere　existence　happiness。　But

when　moonlight　is　added　to　all　this；　the　effect　is　like　enchantment。

Under　its　plastic　sway　the　Alhambra　seems　to　regain　its　pristine

glories。　Every　rent　and　chasm　of　time；　every　mouldering　tint　and

weather…stain　is　gone；　the　marble　resumes　its　original　whiteness；

the　long　colonnades　brighten　in　the　moonbeams；　the　halls　are

illuminated　with　a　softened　radiance…　we　tread　the　enchanted　palace　of

an　Arabian　tale！

　　What　a　delight；　at　such　a　time；　to　ascend　to　the　little　airy

pavilion　of　the　queen's　toilet　（el　tocador　de　la　Reyna）；　which；　like　a

bird…cage；　overhangs　the　valley　of　the　Darro；　and　gaze　from　its

light　arcades　upon　the　moonlight　prospect！　To　the　right；　the

swelling　mountains　of　the　Sierra　Nevada；　robbed　of　their　ruggedness

and　softened　into　a　fairy　land；　with　their　snowy　summits　gleaming　like

silver　clouds　against　the　deep　blue　sky。　And　then　to　lean　over　the

parapet　of　the　Tocador　and　gaze　down　upon　Granada　and　the　Albaycin

spread　out　like　a　map　below；　all　buried　in　deep　repose；　the　white

palaces　and　convents　sleeping　in　the　moonshine；　and　beyond　all　these

the　vapory　Vega　fading　away　like　a　dream…land　in　the　distance。

　　Sometimes　the　faint　click　of　castanets　rises　from　the　Alameda；　where

some　gay　Andalusians　are　dancing　away　the　summer　night。　Sometimes

the　dubious　tones　of　a　guitar　and　the　notes　of　an　amorous　voice；

tell　perchance　the　whereabout　of　some　moon…struck　lover　serenading　his

lady's　window。

　　Such　is　a　faint　picture　of　the　moonlight　nights　I　have　passed

loitering　about　the　courts　and　halls　and　balconies　of　this　most

suggestive　pile；　〃feeding　my　fancy　with　sugared　suppositions；〃　and

enjoying　that　mixture　of　reverie　and　sensation　which　steal　away

existence　in　a　southern　climate；　so　that　it　has　been　almost　morning

before　I　have　retired　to　bed；　and　been　lulled　to　sleep　by　the

falling　waters　of　the　fountain　of　Lindaraxa。