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【分类】双语小说
-[作者: 霍桑]
阅读：[9933]
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我们迄今尚未谈及那个婴儿；那个小家伙是秉承着高深莫测的天意而诞生的一个清白无辜的生命，是在一次罪恶的情欲泛滥中开放的一株可爱而不谢的花朵。当那个凄惨的女人眼睁睁看着她长大，看着她日益增辉添色的娇美，看着她那如颤抖的阳光般笼罩在她小小脸蛋上的智慧的时候，做母亲的感到多么惊诧啊！这是她的珠儿！海丝待这么叫她，并非出于她的外表，因为她绝无珍珠的涵义所包含的那种柔和、洁白和平静的光泽。她给她的婴儿取名“珠儿”，是因为这孩子极其昂贵，是花费了她全部所有才得至的，是她这做母亲的唯一财富！真是太奇妙了！人们用一个红字来标明这女人的罪孽，其潜在的灾难性的功效之深远，佼她得不到任何人间的同情，除非那同情和她本人一样罪孽深重。作为她因之受惩的罪孽的直接后果，上帝却赐予了她一个可爱的孩子，令其在同一个不光彩的怀抱中成长，成为母亲同人类世代繁衍的永恒联系，最后居然要让这孩子的灵魂在天国中受到祝福！然而，这种种想法给海丝特·白兰带来的影响，主要还是忧虑而不是希望。她知道她有过罪孽的行为，因此她不相信会有好的结果。她日复一日地心怀悸惧地观察着孩子逐渐成长的天性，唯恐发现什么阴郁狂野的特征，与带来孩子生命的罪孽相应。
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诚然，孩子身上没有生理缺陷。达婴儿体形完美、精力旺盛，在她稚嫩的四肢的动作中具有天生的灵活，称得起是出生在伊甸园中的；可说是在世上第一对父母被逐出之后，留在园中当作天使们的玩物的。达孩子有一种天然的优雅，这可不是无瑕的丽质所一定具备的；她的衣服无论怎样简朴，见到的人总会认为只有这样穿着才能极尽其美。当然，小珠儿穿的并不是破衣烂衫。她的母亲怀着一种病态的动机——这一点我们以后会看得更加清楚，尽其所能购买最昂贵的衣料，并殚精竭虑来装点孩子的衣裙，供人们去观赏。这个小家伙经这么一打扮，实在漂亮动人，在那晦暗的茅屋的地面上，简直象有一轮圣洁的光环围绕着她——当然，这也是珠儿自身有恰到好处的美丽的光彩，若是把这身灿烂的袍子穿到一个不那么可爱的孩子身上，反例会骤然失色的。不过，珠儿即使身穿土布袍子，满地打滚地玩，弄得衣服破烂、硬梆，她的姿质仍是照样完美。珠儿的外貌中蕴含着万千变化之美：在她这一个孩子身上，综合着从农家婴儿野花似的美到小公主的典雅高贵的气质的无所不包的独到之处。不过，透过这一切，有一种热情的特性和浓重的色调是她永远不会失去的；而这种特性和色调如果在她的任何变化中变得黯淡或苍白，她也就不再是她自己，不再是珠儿了。
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外表上的千变万化说明——其实是恰到好处地表现出；她内在生命的多方面的特性。看来除去多方面的特性之外，她也具备深沉之处，只是对她所降临的这个世界还缺乏了解和适应的能力——也许只是由于海丝特忧心钟仲才误以为如此。这孩子根本不懂得循规蹈矩。随着她的诞生，就破坏了一条重大法律；其结果便是：构成这小家伙的素质或许可以说是美艳照人的，但都错了位，或许是本有其独特的次序，只是其安排和变化的要点，实在难以或不可能发现。海丝特只能靠回忆自己当时的情况来分析这孩子的性格：在珠儿从精神世界汲取自己的灵魂、从世上购物质中形成自己的躯体曲关键内期，她本人如何如何；但这样推断出来的孩子的性格，仍然是十分模糊不全的。做母亲的激动心态始终是将道德生活的光束传送给孕育着的胎儿的媒介；不管这些光束原先是多么洁白，总要深深地染上中问体的排红和金黄、火焰般的光辉、漆黑曲阴影和飘忽不定的光彩。而最主要的是，当时海丝特的好斗精神也永远注入了珠儿的身心。她能够看到当时笼罩着自己心灵的那种狂野、绝望和挑战的情绪，任性的脾气，甚至还有某种阴郁和沮丧的愁云。如今，这一切都在这小孩子的气质中略见端倪，眼下犹如晨曦照射，在今后的人生岁月中将会充满面骤风狂。
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当年的家规可耍比现在严厉得多。怒目瞪视、厉声呵斥和始手就打，全都有《圣经》可依，这些手段不仅是对错误言行的处罚，而且是作为培养儿童品德的有益措施。然而，海丝特·白兰和珠儿是寡母孤儿，她绝不会对孩子失之苛责。她多少出于自己的失足和不幸，早早便想对她受权负责的婴儿施以慈爱而严格的管教。但这一职责非她所能胜任。海丝特对珠儿试过用笑脸相劝或厉声训斥，但两种办法都不能奏效，最后只好被迫站在一旁，听凭孩子随心所欲了。当然，体罚和管柬在施行的当时还是有效的。至于对孩子思想或感情的任何其它教育开导，小珠儿也可能听，也可能不听，全看她当时是否高兴了。还在珠儿是婴儿的时候，她母亲就渐渐熟悉了她的一种特别的神情，那是在告诉母亲，此时对她的一切强制、劝说或请求都将无济于事。那一种神情极其聪慧，又极其费解，极其刚健，有时又极其凶狠，但总是伴随着一种奔放的情绪，令海丝特在此时无法盘洁，珠儿到底是不是一个凡人的子嗣。她更象是—个飘忽的精灵，在茅屋的地面上作过一阵奇思异想的游戏之后，使要面带嘲笑地飞走了。每逢她那狂野、明亮、漆黑的眼暗中出现那种神情时，她便蒙上一层远不可及的神秘色彩，仿佛正在空中翱翔，随时都可能消失，就象不知来自何处、去往何方的闪光似的。海丝特一看到这情景，就要象追逐逃跑的小精灵那样向孩子扑去，而珠儿也一定要开始逃跑；母亲抓住孩子，把她紧紧贴在胸前，热切地亲吻着，这样做倒不是出自爱的洋溢，而是使自己确信，珠儿是个血肉之躯，并非虚幻之物。但珠儿被抓住的时候，她咯咯的笑声中虽然充满欢乐和鸣，却使母亲较前益发困惑。
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海丝特把她花了极其高昂的代价才得到的珠儿，看作她唯一的财富和全部的天地，但她看到在自己和孩子之间十分经常地插入这令她困惑的魔障，则痛心不已，有时还流下热泪。此时，珠儿或许就会——因为无法预见那魔障可能对她有何影响——攥起小手，紧皱眉头，板起面孔，在小肠上露出不满的冷冷表情。也有不少时候，她会再次咯咯大笑，比前一次笑得还响，就象是个对人类的哀伤无从知晓的东西。还有更罕见的，她会因一阵悲恸而全身抽搐，还会抽抽噎噎地说出几个不连贯的词语来表达她对母亲的爱，似乎要用心碎证明她确实有一颗心。不过，海丝特毫无把握使自己相信这种来得快、去得疾助旋风般的柔情。这位母亲将这一切情况前思后想之后，觉得自己象是一个呼唤精灵的人，但是由于没有按照魔法的步骤行事，尚把握不住制服这个还闹不清底细的新精灵的咒语。只有在孩子躺下安然入睡时，她才感到真正的宽心；这时她才能确定她的存在，体陈上几小时的沁人肺腑的恬静和幸福，直到小珠儿一觉醒来——也许就在孩子刚刚睁眼的时候，那种倔劲又表现出来了！
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好快啊，真是迅速得出奇呢！珠儿已经长到不满足于母亲脸上常挂着的微笑和嘴里唠叨的闲言碎语，能够与社会交往的年纪了！若是海丝特·白兰能够在别的孩子高声叫嚷的童声中，听到珠儿那莺啼燕啭般的清脆嗓音，能够从一群嬉戏的儿童的喧哗之中辨明她自己的宝贝儿的腔调．她该有多么幸福啊！但这是绝不可能的。珠儿生来便是那婴孩天地的弃儿。她是一个邪恶的小妖精，是罪孽的标志和产物，无极脐身于受洗的婴孩之列。最值得注意的是，这孩子仿佛有一种理解自己孤独处境的本能；懂得自己周围有一条命中注定不可逾越的鸿沟；简言之，她知道自己与其他孩子迥然不同的特殊地位。自从海丝特出狱以来，她从来都带着珠儿出现在人们面前。她在镇上四处走动，珠儿也始终都在她身边；起初是她怀中的婴儿，后来又成了她的小伙伴，满把握着她的一根食指，得蹦蹦跳跳地用三四步才赶上海丝特的一步。珠儿看到过这块殖民地上的小孩子们，在路边的草地上或是在自家门前，做着请教徒童规所允许的种种怪里怪气的游戏：有时装作一起去教堂，或是拷问教友派的教徒，或是玩同印第安人打仗和剥头皮的把戏，或是模仿巫术的怪样互相吓唬。珠儿在一劳瞅着，注视着，但从来没打算和他们结识。如果这时和勉说话，她也不会咬声。如果孩子们有时围起她来，她就发起小脾气，变得非常凶狠，她会抄起石于向他们扔去，同时发出连续的尖声怪叫，跟巫婆用没入能懂的咒语喊叫极其相似，吓得她母亲浑身直抖。
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事实上，这伙小清教徒们是世上最不容人的，他们早就在这对母女身上模模糊糊地看出点名堂，觉得她们不象是人世间的人，古里古怪地与众不同；于是便从心里蔑视她们，嘴里时常不干不净地诅咒她们。珠儿觉察出这种情绪，便以一个孩子心胸中所能激起的最刻毒的仇恨反唇相讥，这种大发脾气对她母亲颇有价值，甚至是一种慰藉，因为在这种气氛中，她至少表现出一种显而易见的真诚，替代了那种刺痛她母亲的一阵阵的任性发作。然而，海丝特吃惊地从中又辨出了曾存在她自己身上的那种邪恶的阴影的反射。这一切仇恨和热情，都是珠儿理所当然地从海丝特心中承袭下来的。母女二人一起被摒弃在人间社会之外，在珠儿降生之前折磨着海丝特·白兰，在孩子出生后随母性的温柔而渐渐平息下去的那些不安定成分，似乎都植根于珠儿的天性之中了。
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珠儿在家中，并不想在母亲茅屋的里里外外结识很多各种各样的伙伴。她那永不停歇的创造精神会进发出生命的魔力，并同丰万种物体交流，犹如一个火炬可以点燃一切。那些最不值一玩的东西——一根棍子、一块破布、一朵小花——都是珠儿巫术的玩偶，而且无需经过任何外部变化，便可以在她内心世界的舞台上的任何戏剧中，派上想象中的用场。她用自己一人的童音扮作想象中的形形色色、老老少少的角色相互交谈。在风中哼哼唧唧或是发出其它忧郁呻吟的苍劲肃穆的松树，无需变形，就可充当清教徒的长者，面园中最丑陋的杂草便权充他们的子孙，珠儿会毫不留情地将这些“儿童”踩倒，再连根拔起。真是绝妙之极！她开动脑筋幻化出来的备色各样的形体，虽然缺乏连续性，但确实活脱跳跃，始终充满超越自然的活力——这种活力很快便消沉下去，仿佛在生命之潮的急剧而热烈的进发之中衰竭了，继之而来的又是另一种有狂野精力的形象。这和北极光的变幻不定极其相似。然而，单从一个正在成长着的头脑喜欢想象和活泼好动来说，珠儿比起其他聪慧的儿童并没有什么明显的长处，只不过是由于缺乏玩伴，她同自己创造出来的幻想中的人群更加接近而己。她的独特之处在于她对自己心灵和头脑中幻化出来的所有的人都怀着敌对情绪。她从来没有创造过一个朋友，却总象是在大面积地播种龙牙①，从而收获到一支敌军，她便与之厮杀。看到孩子还这么年幼，居然对一个同自己作对的世界有如此坚定的认识，而且猛烈地训练自己的实力，以便在肯定会有的争斗中确保自己获胜，是多么让人心酸得难以形容啊！而当一个母亲在内心中体会到这一切都是由她才引起的，又是多么深切地哀伤啊！
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海丝特·白兰眼望着珠儿，常常把手里的活计放到膝上，由于强忍不下的痛苦而哭出声来，那泪泪涌出的声音，半似说话，半似鸣咽：“噢，天上的圣父啊——如果您还是我的圣父的话——我带到这人世上来的是一个什么样的生命啊！”珠儿呢，在一旁听到了这迸射而出的语言，或是通过某种更微妙的渠道感受到了那痛苦的悸动，便会把她那美丽动人的小脸转向她母亲，露着精灵般聪慧的笑容，然后继续玩起她的游戏。
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这孩子的举止上还有一个特点也要说一说。她降生以来所注意到的头一件事情是——什么呢？不是母亲的微笑——别的孩子会学着用自己的小嘴浅浅一笑来呼应，事后会记忆模糊，以致热烈地争论那到底是不是真的在笑。珠儿意识到的第一个目标绝不是母亲的微笑！似乎是——我们要不要说出来呢？是海丝特胸前的红字！一天，当她母亲脑身在摇篮上的时候，婴儿的眼睛被那字母四周绣着的金钱的闪光吸引住了；接着便伸出小手朝那字母抓去，脸上还带着确定无疑的笑容，闪出果断的光彩，使她的表情象个大得多的孩子。当时，海丝特·白兰喘着粗气，紧紧抓住那致命的标记，本能地试图把它扯下来；珠儿那小手这莫测的一触，纷她带来了多么无穷无尽的熬煎啊。此时，小珠几以为她母亲那痛苦的动作只不过是在和她逗着玩，便盯着母亲的眼睛，微微一笑。从那时起，除非这孩子在睡觉，海丝特没有过片刻的安全感，也没有过片刻的宁静和由孩子带来的欢乐。确实，有时一连几个星期过去了，其间珠儿再没有注视过一次红字；之后，又会冷不丁地象瘁死地一抖似的看上一眼，而且脸上总要露出那特有的微笑，眼睛也总要带着那古怪的表情。
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一次，当海斯特象做母亲的喜欢做的那样，在孩子的眼睛中看着自己的影象时，珠儿的眼睛巾又出现了那种不可捉摸的精灵似的目光；由于内心烦闷的妇女常常为莫名其妙的幻象所萦绕，她突然幻想着，她在珠儿的眼睛那面小镜子中看到的不是她自己的小小的肖像，而是另外一张面孔。那张魔鬼似的面孔上堆满恶狠狠的微笑，可是长的容貌象她极其熟悉的面孔，不过她熟悉的那面容很少有笑脸，更从来不会是恶狠狠的。刚才就象有一个邪恶精灵附在了孩子身上，并且探出头来嘲弄地望着她。事后，海丝特曾多次受到同一幻觉的折磨，不过那幻觉没有那么活生生地强烈了。
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一个夏日的午后，那时珠儿已经长大，能够到处跑了。孩子采集了一把野花自己玩着，她把野花一朵接一朵地掷到母亲胸口上；每当花朵打中红字，她就象个小精灵似的蹦蹦跳跳。海丝特的第一个动作就是想用合着的双手来捂住胸膛。可是，不知是出于自尊自豪还是出于容忍顺从，抑或是感到她只有靠这种难言的痛苦才能最好地完成自己赎罪的苦行，她压抑下了这一冲动，坐得挺挺的，脸色变得死一般地苍白，只是伤心地盯着珠儿的狂野的眼睛。此时，花朵仍接二连三地抛来，几乎每一下都未中那标记，使母亲曲胸口布满伤痛，不但在这个世界上她找不到止痛药膏，就是在另一个世界上，她也不知道如何去找这种灵丹妙药。终于，孩子的弹药全都耗尽了，她一动不动地站在那里瞪着海丝特，从她那深不可测的黑眼睛中，那小小的笑眯眯的魔鬼形象又在探出头来望着她了——或者，根本没那么国事，只是她母亲这么想象罢了。
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“孩子，你到底是个什么呀？”母亲叫着。
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“噢，我是你的小珠儿！”孩子回答。
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珠儿边说边放声笑着，并且用小妖精的那种调皮样子蹦蹦跳跳着，她的下一步想入非非的行动可能是从烟囱中飞出去。
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“你真一点不假是我的孩子吗？”海丝特问。
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她提出这样一个问题绝不是漫不经心的，就当时而论，她确实带着几分诚心诚意；因为珠儿这么鬼精鬼灵的，她母亲吃不大准，她未必还不清楚自己的身世之谜，现在只不过还不打算亲口说出来。
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“是啊！我是小珠儿！”孩子又说了一遍，同时继续着她的调皮动作。
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“你不是我的孩子！你不是我的珠儿！”母亲半开玩笑地说；因为就在她最为痛苦的时候，往往会涌来一阵寻开心的冲动。“那就告诉我吧，你是什么？是推把你打发到这儿来的？”
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“告诉我吧，妈妈！”孩子走到海丝特跟前，紧紧靠着她膝头，一本正经地说。“一定跟我说说吧！”
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“是你的天父把你送来的！”海丝特·白兰回答说。
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但她说话时有点犹豫，这没有逃过孩子犀利的目光。不知孩于和往常一样想要调皮，还是受到一个邪恶的精灵的指使，她举起她小小的食指，去摸那红字。
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“不是他把我送来的！”她明确地说。“我没有天父！”
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“嘘，珠儿，嘘！你不许这么说！”母亲咽下一声哀叹，回答说。“我们所有的人都是他送到这世上来的。连我——你妈妈，都是他送来的。就更不用说你了！要不是这样，你这个怪里怪气的小妖精似的孩子是从哪儿来的？”
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“告诉我！告诉我！”珠儿一再喊着，这次不再板着面孔，而是笑出了声，还在地上跳着脚。“你非告诉我不可！”
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对这一逼问，海丝特可没法作答了，因为连她自己也尚在阴暗的迷宫中徘徊呢。她面带微笑、周身战栗地想起了镇上邻居的说法，他们遍寻这孩子的父亲没有结果，又观察到珠儿的古怪作为，就声称可怜的小珠儿是一个妖魔助产物。自从古天主教时代以来，世上常见这种孩子，都是由于做母亲的有罪孽，才生下来以助长肮脏恶毒的目的。按照路德②在教会中那些敌人的谣言，他本人就是那种恶魔的孽种；而在新英格兰的请教徒中闯，有这种可疑血缘的，可不仅仅珠儿一个孩子。
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①希腊种话中说，腓尼基王子卡德马斯杀一龙后种其齿，遂长出一支军队，相互征战，最后余下五人，与卡德马斯建立底比斯国。
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②马丁．路德(1482一1546)，德国神学家，家教改革的领袖。
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WE have as yet hardly spoken of the infant; that little creature, whose innocent life had sprung, by the inscrutable decree of Providence, a lovely and immortal flower, out of the rank luxuriance of a passion. How strange it seemed to the sad woman, as she watched the growth, and the beauty that became every day more brilliant, and the intelligence that threw its quivering sunshine over the tiny features of this child! Her Pearl!- For so had Hester called her; not as a name expressive of her aspect, which had nothing of the calm, white, unimpassioned lustre that would be indicated by the comparison. But she named the infant "Pearl," as being of great price- purchased with all she had- her mother’s only treasure! How strange, indeed! Man had marked this woman’s sin by a scarlet letter, which had such potent and disastrous efficacy that no human sympathy could reach her, save it were sinful like herself. God, as a direct consequence of the sin which man thus punished, had given her a lovely child, whose place was on that same dishonoured bosom, to connect her parent for ever with the race and descent of mortals, and to be finally a blessed soul in heaven! Yet these thoughts affected Hester Prynne less with hope than apprehension. She knew that her deed had been evil; she could have no faith, therefore, that its result would be good. Day after day, she looked fearfully into the child’s expanding nature; ever dreading to detect some dark and wild peculiarity, that should correspond with the guiltiness to which she owed her being.
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Certainly, there was no physical defect. By its perfect shape, its vigour, and its natural dexterity in the use of all its untried limbs, the infant was worthy to have been brought forth in Eden; worthy to have been left there, to be the plaything of the angels after theworld’s first parents were driven out. The child had a native grace which does not invariably coexist with faultless beauty; its attire, however simple, always impressed the beholder as if it were the very garb that precisely became it best. But little Pearl was not clad in rustic weeds. Her mother, with a morbid purpose that may be better understood hereafter, had bought the richest tissues that could be procured, and allowed her imaginative faculty its full play in the arrangement and decoration of the dresses which the child wore, before the public eye. So magnificent was the small figure, when thus arrayed, and such was the splendour of Pearl’s own proper beauty, shining through the gorgeous robes which might have extinguished a paler loveliness, that there was an absolute circle of radiance around her, on the darksome cottage floor. And yet a russet gown, torn and soiled with the child’s rude play, made a picture of her just as perfect. Pearl’s aspect was imbued with a spell of infinite variety; in this one child there were many children, comprehending the full scope between the wild-flower prettiness of a peasant-baby, and the pomp, in little, of an infant princess. Throughout all, however, there was a trait of passion, a certain depth of hue, which she never lost; and if, in any of her changes, she had grown fainter or paler, she would have ceased to be herself- it would have been no longer Pearl!
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This outward mutability indicated, and did not more than fairly express, the various properties of her inner life. Her nature appeared to possess depth, too, as well as variety; but- or else Hester’s fears deceived her- it lacked reference and adaptation to the world into which she was born. The child could not be made amenable to rules. In giving her existence, a great law had been broken; and the result was a being whose elements were perhaps beautiful and brilliant, but all in disorder; or with an order peculiar to themselves, amidst which the point of variety and arrangement was difficult or impossible to be discovered. Hester could only account for the child’s character- and even then most vaguely and imperfectly- by recalling what she herself had been, during that momentous period while Pearl was imbibing her soul from the spiritual world, and her bodily frame from its material of earth. The mother’s impassioned state had been the medium through which were transmitted to the unborn infant the rays of its moral Life; and, however white and clear originally, they had taken the deep stains of crimson and gold, the fiery lustre, the black shadow, and the untempered light, of the intervening substance. Above all, the warfare of Hester’s spirit, at that epoch, was perpetuated in Pearl. She could recognise her wild, desperate, defiant mood, the flightiness of her temper, and even some of the very cloud-shapes of gloom and despondency that had brooded in her heart. They were now illuminated by the morning radiance of a young child’s disposition, but, later in the day of earthly existence, might be prolific of the storm and whirlwind.
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The discipline of the family, in those days, was of a far more rigid kind than now. The frown, the harsh rebuke, the frequent application of the rod, enjoined by Scriptural authority, were used, not merely in the way of punishment for actual offences, but as a wholesome regimen for the growth and promotion of all childish virtues. Hester Prynne, nevertheless, the lonely mother of this one child, ran little risk of erring on the side of undue severity. Mindful, however, of her own errors and misfortunes, she early sought to impose a tender, but strict control over the infant immortality that was committed to her charge. But the task was beyond her skill. After testing both smiles and frowns, and proving that neither mode of treatment possessed any calculable influence, Hester was ultimately compelled to stand aside, and permit the child to be swayed by her own impulses. Physical compulsion or restraint was effectual, of course, while it lasted. As to any other kind of discipline, whether addressed to her mind or heart, little Pearl might or might not be within its reach, in accordance with the caprice that ruled the moment. Her mother, while Pearl was yet an infant, grew acquainted with a certain peculiar look, that warned her when it would be labour thrown away to insist, persuade, or plead. It was a look so intelligent, yet inexplicable, so perverse, sometimes so malicious, but generally accompanied by a wild flow of spirits, that Hester could not help questioning, at such moments, whether Pearl was a human child. She seemed rather an airy sprite, which, after playing its fantastic sports for a little while upon the cottage-floor, would flit away with a mocking smile. Whenever that look appeared in her wild, bright, deeply black eyes, it invested her with a strange remoteness and intangibility; it was as if she were hovering in the air and might vanish, like a glimmering light, that comes we know not whence, and goes we know not whither. Beholding it, Hester was constrained to rush towards the child- to pursue the ittle elf in the flight which she invariably began- to snatch her to her bosom, with a close pressure and earnest kisses- not so much from overflowing love, as to assure herself that Pearl was flesh and blood, and not tterly delusive. But Pearl’s laugh, when she was caught, though full of merriment and music, made her mother more doubtful than before.
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Heart-smitten at this bewildering and baffling spell, that so often came between herself and her sole treasure, whom she had bought so dear, and who was all her world, Hester sometimes burst into passionate tears. Then, perhaps- for there was no foreseeing how it might affect her- Pearl would frown, and clench her little fist, and harden her small features into a stern, unsympathising look of discontent. Not seldom, she would laugh anew, and louder than before, like a thing incapable and unintelligent of human sorrow. Or- but this more rarely happened- she would be convulsed with a rage of grief, and sob out her love for her mother, in broken words, and seem intent on proving that she had a heart, by breaking it. Yet Hester was hardly safe in confiding herself to that gusty tenderness; it passed, as suddenly as it came. Brooding over all these matters, the mother felt like one who has evoked a spirit, but, by some irregularity in the process of conjuration, has failed to win the master-word that should control this new and incomprehensible intelligence. Her only real comfort was when the child lay in the placidity of sleep. Then she was sure of her, and tasted hours of quiet, sad, delicious happiness; until- perhaps with that perverse expression glimmering from beneath her opening lids- little Pearl awoke!
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How soon- with what strange rapidity, indeed!- did Pearl arrive at an age that was capable of social intercourse, beyond the mother’s ever-ready smile and nonsense-words! And then what a happiness would it have been, could Hester Prynne have heard her clear, birdlike voice mingling with the uproar of other childish voices, and have distinguished and unravelled her own darling’s tones, amid all the entangled outcry of a group of sportive children! But this could never be. Pearl was a born outcast of the infantile world. An imp of evil, emblem and product of sin, she had no right among christened infants. Nothing was more remarkable than the instinct, as it seemed, with which the child comprehended her loneliness; the destiny that had drawn an inviolable circle round about her; the whole peculiarity, in short, of her position in respect to other children. Never, since her release from prison, had Hester met the public gaze without her. In all her walks about the town, Pearl, too, was there; first as the babe in arms, and afterwards as the little girl, small companion of her mother, holding a forefinger with her whole grasp, and tripping along at the rate of three or four footsteps to one of Hester’s. She saw the children of the settlement, on the grassy margin of the street, or at the domestic thresholds, disporting themselves in such grim fashion as the Puritanic nurture would permit; playing at going to church, perchance; or at scourging Quakers; or taking scalps in a sham-fight with the Indians; or scaring one another with freaks of imitative witchcraft. Pearl saw, and gazed intently, but never sought to make acquaintance. If spoken to, she would not speak again. If the children gathered about her, as they sometimes did, Pearl would grow positively terrible in her puny wrath, snatching up stones to fling at them, with shrill, incoherent exclamations, that made her mother tremble, because they had so much the sound of a witch’s anathemas in some unknown tongue.
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The truth was, that the little Puritans, being of the most intolerant brood that ever lived, had a vague idea of something outlandish, unearthly, or at variance with ordinary fashions, in the mother and child; and therefore scorned them in their hearts, and not unfrequently reviled them with their tongues. Pearl felt the sentiment, and requited it with the bitterest hatred that can be supposed to rankle in a childish bosom. These outbreaks of a fierce temper had a kind of value, and even comfort, for her mother; because there was at least an intelligible earnestness in the mood, instead of the fitful caprice that so often thwarted her in the child’s manifestations. It appalled her, nevertheless, to discern here again, a shadowy reflection of the evil that had existed in herself. All this enmity and passion had Pearl inherited, by inalienable right, out of Hester’s heart. Mother and daughter stood together in the same circle of seclusion from human society; and in the nature of the child seemed to be perpetuated those unquiet elements that had distracted Hester Prynne before Pearl’s birth, but had since begun to be soothed away by the softening influences of maternity.
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At home, within and around her mother’s cottage, Pearl wanted not a wide and various circle of acquaintance. The spell of life went forth from her ever creative spirit, and communicated itself to a thousand objects, as a torch kindles a flame wherever it may be applied. The unlikeliest materials- a stick, a bunch of rags, a flower- were the puppets of Pearl’s witchcraft, and, without undergoing any outward change, became spiritually adapted to whatever drama occupied the stage of her inner world. Her one baby-voice served a multitude of imaginary personages, old and young, to talk withal. The pine-trees, aged, black and solemn, and flinging groans and other melancholy utterances on the breeze, needed little transformation to figure as Puritan elders; the ugliest weeds of the garden were their children, whom Pearl smote down and uprooted, most unmercifully. It was wonderful, the vast variety of forms into which she threw her intellect, with no continuity, indeed, but darting up and dancing, always in a state of preternatural activity- soon sinking down, as if exhausted by so rapid and feverish a tide of life- and succeeded by other shapes of a similar wild energy. It was like nothing so much as the phantasmagoric play of the northern lights. In the mere exercise of the fancy, however, and the sportiveness of a growing mind, there might be little more than was observable in other children of bright faculties; except as Pearl, in the dearth of human playmates, was thrown more upon the visionary throng which she created. The singularity lay in the hostile feelings with which the child regarded all these offspring of her own heart and mind. She never created a friend, but seemed always to be sowing broadcast the dragon’s teeth, whence sprung a harvest of armed enemies, against whom she rushed to battle. It was inexpressibly sad- then what depth of sorrow to a mother, who felt in her own heart the cause!- to observe, in one so young, this constant recognition of an adverse world, and so fierce a training of the energies that were to make good her cause, in the contest that must ensue.
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Gazing at Pearl, Hester Prynne often dropped her work upon her knees, and cried out with an agony which she would fain have hidden, but which made utterance for itself, betwixt speech and a groan, "O Father in heaven- if Thou art still my Father- what is this being which I have brought into the world!" And Pearl, overbearing the ejaculation, or aware, through some more subtile channel, of those throbs of anguish, would turn her vivid and beautiful little face upon her mother, smile with sprite-like intelligence, and resume her play.
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One peculiarity of the child’s deportment remains yet to be told. The very first thing which she had noticed, in her life, was- what?- not the mother’s smile, responding to it, as other babies do, by that faint, embryo smile of the little mouth, remembered so doubtfully afterwards, and with such fond discussion whether it were indeed a smile. By no means! But that first object of which Pearl seemed to become aware was- shall we say it?- the scarlet letter on Hester’s bosom! One day, as her mother stooped over the cradle, the infant’s eyes had been caught by the glimmering of the gold embroidery about the letter; and, putting up her little hand, she grasped at it, smiling, not doubtfully, but with a decided gleam, that gave her face the look of a much older child. Then, gasping for breath, did Hester Prynne clutch the fatal token, instinctively endeavouring to tear it away; so infinite was the torture inflicted by the intelligent touch of Pearl’s baby hand. Again, as if her mother’s agonised gesture were meant only to make sport for her, did little Pearl look into her eyes, and smile! From that epoch, except when the child was asleep, Hester had never felt a moment’s safety; not a moment’s calm enjoyment of her. Weeks, it is true, would sometimes elapse, during which Pearl’s gaze might never once be fixed upon the scarlet letter; but then, again, it would come at unawares, like the stroke of sudden death, and always with that peculiar smile, and odd expression of the eyes.
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Once, this freakish, elvish cast came into the child’s eyes, while Hester was looking at her own image in them, as mothers are fond of doing; and, suddenly- for women in solitude, and with troubled hearts, are pestered with unaccountable delusions- she fancied that she beheld, not her own miniature portrait, but another face, in the small black mirror of Pearl’s eye. It was a face fiend-like, full of smiling malice, yet bearing the semblance of features that she had known full well, though seldom with a smile, and never with malice in them. It was as if an evil spirit possessed the child, and had just then peeped forth in mockery. Many a time afterwards had Hester been tortured, though less vividly, by the same illusion.
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In the afternoon of a certain summer’s day, after Pearl grew big enough to run about, she amused herself with gathering handfuls of wild-flowers, and flinging them, one by one, at her mother’s bosom; dancing up and down, like a little elf, whenever she hit the scarlet letter. Hester’s first motion had been to cover her bosom with her clasped hands. But, whether from pride or resignation, or a feeling that her penance might best be wrought out by this unutterable pain, she resisted the impulse, and sat erect, pale as death, looking sadly into little Pearl’s wild eyes. Still came the battery of flowers, almost invariably hitting the mark, and covering the mother’s breast with hurts for which she could find no balm in this world, nor knew how to seek it in another. At last, her shot being all expended, the child stood still and gazed at Hester, with that little laughing image of a fiend peeping out- or, whether it peeped or no, her mother so imagined it- from the unsearchable abyss of her black eyes.
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"Child, what art thou?" cried the mother.
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"Oh, I am your little Pearl!" answered the child.
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But, while she said it, Pearl laughed, and began to dance up and down, with the humorsome gesticulation of a little imp, whose next freak might be to fly up the chimney.
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"Art thou my child, in very truth?" asked Hester.
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Nor did she put the question altogether idly, but, for the moment, with a portion of genuine earnestness; for, such was Pearl’s wonderful intelligence, that her mother half doubted whether she were not acquainted with the secret spell of her existence, and might not now reveal herself.
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"Yes; I am little Pearl!" repeated the child, continuing her antics.
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"Thou art not my child! Thou art no Pearl of mine!" said the mother, half playfully; for it was often the case that a sportive impulse came over her, in the midst of her deepest suffering. "Tell me, then, what thou art, and who sent thee hither?"
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"Tell me, mother!" said the child seriously, coming up to Hester, and pressing herself close to her knees. "Do thou tell me!"
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"Thy Heavenly Father sent thee!" answered Hester Prynne.
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But she said it with a hesitation that did not escape the acuteness of the child. Whether moved only by her ordinary freakishness, or because an evil spirit prompted her, she put up her small forefinger, and touched the scarlet letter.
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"He did not send me!" cried she positively. "I have no Heavenly Father!"
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"hush, Pearl, hush! Thou must not talk so!" answered the mother, suppressing a groan. "He sent us all into this world. He sent even me, thy mother. Then, much more, thee! Or, if not, thou strange and elfish child, whence didst thou come?"
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"Tell me! Tell me!" repeated Pearl, no longer seriously, but laughing, and capering about the floor. "It is thou that must tell me!"
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But Hester could not resolve the query, being herself in a dismal labyrinth of doubt. She remembered- betwixt a smile and a shudder- the talk of the neighbouring townspeople; who, seeking vainly elsewhere for the child’s paternity, and observing some of her old attributes, had given out that poor little Pearl was a demon ffspring; such as, ever since old Catholic times, had occasionally been seer, on earth, through the agency of their mother’s sin, and to promote some foul and wicked purpose. Luther, according to the scandal of his monkish enemies, was a brat of that hellish breed; nor was Pearl the only child to whom this inauspicious origin was assigned among the New England Puritans.
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