rip van winkle-第3章

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coils　or　tendrils　from　tree　to　tree；　and　spread　a　kind　of　network　in

his　path。

　　At　length　he　reached　to　where　the　ravine　had　opened　through　the

cliffs　to　the　amphitheatre；　but　no　traces　of　such　opening　remained。

The　rocks　presented　a　high　impenetrable　wall　over　which　the　torrent

came　tumbling　in　a　sheet　of　feathery　foam；　and　fell　into　a　broad

deep　basin；　black　from　the　shadows　of　the　surrounding　forest。　Here；

then；　poor　Rip　was　brought　to　a　stand。　He　again　called　and　whistled

after　his　dog；　he　was　only　answered　by　the　cawing　of　a　flock　of　idle

crows；　sporting　high　in　air　about　a　dry　tree　that　overhung　a　sunny

precipice；　and　who；　secure　in　their　elevation；　seemed　to　look　down　and

scoff　at　the　poor　man's　perplexities。　What　was　to　be　done？　the　morning

was　passing　away；　and　Rip　felt　famished　for　want　of　his　breakfast。

He　grieved　to　give　up　his　dog　and　gun；　he　dreaded　to　meet　his　wife；

but　it　would　not　do　to　starve　among　the　mountains。　He　shook　his

head；　shouldered　the　rusty　firelock；　and；　with　a　heart　full　of　trouble

and　anxiety；　turned　his　steps　homeward。

　　As　he　approached　the　village　he　met　a　number　of　people；　but　none

whom　he　knew；　which　somewhat　surprised　him；　for　he　had　thought　himself

acquainted　with　every　one　in　the　country　round。　Their　dress；　too；

was　of　a　different　fashion　from　that　to　which　he　was　accustomed。

They　all　stared　at　him　with　equal　marks　of　surprise；　and　whenever　they

cast　their　eyes　upon　him；　invariably　stroked　their　chins。　The　constant

recurrence　of　this　gesture　induced　Rip；　involuntarily；　to　do　the　same；

when；　to　his　astonishment；　he　found　his　beard　had　grown　a　foot　long！

　　He　had　now　entered　the　skirts　of　the　village。　A　troop　of　strange

children　ran　at　his　heels；　hooting　after　him；　and　pointing　at　his　gray

beard。　The　dogs；　too；　not　one　of　which　he　recognized　for　an　old

acquaintance；　barked　at　him　as　he　passed。　The　very　village　was

altered；　it　was　larger　and　more　populous。　There　were　rows　of　houses

which　he　had　never　seen　before；　and　those　which　had　been　his

familiar　haunts　had　disappeared。　Strange　names　were　over　the　doors…

strange　faces　at　the　windows…　every　thing　was　strange。　His　mind　now

misgave　him；　he　began　to　doubt　whether　both　he　and　the　world　around

him　were　not　bewitched。　Surely　this　was　his　native　village；　which　he

had　left　but　the　day　before。　There　stood　the　Kaatskill　mountains…

there　ran　the　silver　Hudson　at　a　distance…　there　was　every　hill　and

dale　precisely　as　it　had　always　been…　Rip　was　sorely　perplexed…

〃That　flagon　last　night；〃　thought　he；　〃has　addled　my　poor　head　sadly！〃

　　It　was　with　some　difficulty　that　he　found　the　way　to　his　own

house；　which　he　approached　with　silent　awe；　expecting　every　moment

to　hear　the　shrill　voice　of　Dame　Van　Winkle。　He　found　the　house　gone

to　decay…　the　roof　fallen　in；　the　windows　shattered；　and　the　doors　off

the　hinges。　A　half…starved　dog　that　looked　like　Wolf　was　skulking

about　it。　Rip　called　him　by　name；　but　the　cur　snarled；　showed　his

teeth；　and　passed　on。　This　was　an　unkind　cut　indeed…　〃My　very　dog；〃

sighed　poor　Rip；　〃has　forgotten　me！〃

　　He　entered　the　house；　which；　to　tell　the　truth；　Dame　Van　Winkle

had　always　kept　in　neat　order。　It　was　empty；　forlorn；　and　apparently

abandoned。　This　desolateness　overcame　all　his　connubial　fears…　he

called　loudly　for　his　wife　and　children…　the　lonely　chambers　rang

for　a　moment　with　his　voice；　and　then　all　again　was　silence。

　　He　now　hurried　forth；　and　hastened　to　his　old　resort；　the　village

inn…　but　it　too　was　gone。　A　large　rickety　wooden　building　stood　in　its

place；　with　great　gaping　windows；　some　of　them　broken　and　mended

with　old　hats　and　petticoats；　and　over　the　door　was　painted；　〃The

Union　Hotel；　by　Jonathan　Doolittle。〃　Instead　of　the　great　tree　that

used　to　shelter　the　quiet　little　Dutch　inn　of　yore；　there　now　was

reared　a　tall　naked　pole；　with　something　on　the　top　that　looked　like　a

red　night…cap；　and　from　it　was　fluttering　a　flag；　on　which　was　a

singular　assemblage　of　stars　and　stripes…　all　this　was　strange　and

incomprehensible。　He　recognized　on　the　sign；　however；　the　ruby　face　of

King　George；　under　which　he　had　smoked　so　many　a　peaceful　pipe；　but

even　this　was　singularly　metamorphosed。　The　red　coat　was　changed　for

one　of　blue　and　buff；　a　sword　was　held　in　the　hand　instead　of　a

sceptre；　the　head　was　decorated　with　a　cocked　hat；　and　underneath

was　painted　in　large　characters；　GENERAL　WASHINGTON。

　　There　was；　as　usual；　a　crowd　of　folk　about　the　door；　but　none　that

Rip　recollected。　The　very　character　of　the　people　seemed　changed。

There　was　a　busy；　bustling；　disputatious　tone　about　it；　instead　of　the

accustomed　phlegm　and　drowsy　tranquillity。　He　looked　in　vain　for　the

sage　Nicholas　Vedder；　with　his　broad　face；　double　chin；　and　fair

long　pipe；　uttering　clouds　of　tobacco…smoke　instead　of　idle

speeches；　or　Van　Bummel；　the　schoolmaster；　doling　forth　the　contents

of　an　ancient　newspaper。　In　place　of　these；　a　lean；　bilious…looking

fellow；　with　his　pockets　full　of　handbills；　was　haranguing

vehemently　about　rights　of　citizens…　elections…　members　of　congress…

liberty…　Bunker's　Hill…　heroes　of　seventy…six…　and　other　words；

which　were　a　perfect　Babylonish　jargon　to　the　bewildered　Van　Winkle。

　　The　appearance　of　Rip；　with　his　long　grizzled　beard；　his　rusty

fowling…piece；　his　uncouth　dress；　and　an　army　of　women　and　children　at

his　heels；　soon　attracted　the　attention　of　the　tavern　politicians。

They　crowded　round　him；　eyeing　him　from　head　to　foot　with　great

curiosity。　The　orator　bustled　up　to　him；　and；　drawing　him　partly

aside；　inquired　〃on　which　side　he　voted？〃　Rip　stared　in　vacant

stupidity。　Another　short　but　busy　little　fellow　pulled　him　by　the　arm；

and；　rising　on　tiptoe；　inquired　in　his　ear；　〃Whether　he　was　Federal　or

Democrat？〃　Rip　was　equally　at　a　loss　to　comprehend　the　question；

when　a　knowing；　self…important　old　gentleman；　in　a　sharp　cocked　hat；

made　his　way　through　the　crowd；　putting　them　to　the　right　and　left

with　his　elbows　as　he　passed；　and　planting　himself　before　Van

Winkle；　with　one　arm　akimbo；　the　other　resting　on　his　cane；　his　keen

eyes　and　sharp　hat　penetrating；　as　it　were；　into　his　very　soul；

demanded　in　an　austere　tone；　〃what　brought　him　to　the　election　with

a　gun　on　his　shoulder；　and　a　mob　at　his　heels；　and　whether　he　meant　to

breed　a　riot　in　the　village？〃…　〃Alas！　gentlemen；〃　cried　Rip；

somewhat　dismayed；　〃I　am　a　poor　quiet　man；　a　native　of　the　place；

and　a　loyal　subject　of　the　king；　God　bless　him！〃

　　Here　a　general　shout　burst　from　the　bystanders…　〃A　tory！　a　tory！　a

spy！　a　refugee！　hustle　him！　away　with　him！〃　It　was　with　great

difficulty　that　the　self…important　man　in　the　cocked　hat　restored

order；　and；　having　assumed　a　ten…fold　austerity　of　brow；　demanded

again　of　the　unknown　culprit；　what　he　came　there　for；　and　whom　he

was　seeking？　The　poor　man　humbly　assured　him　that　he　meant　no　harm；

but　merely　came　there　in　search　of　some　of　his　neighbors；　who　used

to　keep　about　the　tavern。

　　〃Well…　who　are　they？…　name　them。〃

　　Rip　bethought　himself　a　moment；　and　inquired；　〃Where's　Nicholas

Vedder？〃

　　There　was　a　silence　for　a　little　while；　when　an　old　man　replied；

in　a　thin　piping　voice；　〃Nicholas　Vedder！　why；　he　is　dead　and　gone

these　eighteen　years！　There　was　a　wooden　tombstone　in　the

church…yard　that　used　to　tell　all　about　him；　but　that's　rotten　and

gone　too。〃

　　〃Where's　Brom　Dutcher？〃

　　〃Oh；　he　went　off　to　the　army　in　the　beginning　of　the　war；　some　say

he　was　killed　at　the　storming　of　Stony　Point…　others　say　he　was

drowned　in　a　squall　at　the　foot　of　Antony's　Nose。　I　don't　know…　he

never　came　back　again。〃

　　〃Where's　Van　Bummel；　the　schoolmaster？〃

　　〃He　went　off　to　the　wars　too；　was　a　great　militia　general；　and　is

now　in　congress。〃

　　Rip's　heart　died　away　at　hearing　of　these　sad　changes　in　his　home

and　friends；　and　finding　himself　thus　alone　in　the　world。　Every　answer

puzzled　him　too；　by　treating　of　such　enormous　lapses　of　time；　and　of

matters　which　he　could　not　understand：　war…　congress…　Stony　Point；…　he

had　no　courage　to　ask　after　any　more　friends；　but　cried　out　in

despair；　〃Does　nobody　here　know　Rip　Van　Winkle？〃

　　〃Oh；　Rip　Van　Winkle！〃　exclaimed　two　or　three；　〃Oh；　to　be　sure！

that's　Rip　Van　Winkle　yonder；　leaning　against　the　tree。〃

　　Rip　looked；　and　beheld　a　precise　counterpart　of　himself；　as　he

went　up　the　mountain：　apparently　as　lazy；　and　certainly　as　ragged。　The

poor　fellow　was　now　completely　confounded。　He　doubted　his　own

identity；　and　whether　he　was　himself　or　another　man。　In　the　midst　of

his　bewilderment；　the　man　in　the　cocked　hat　demanded　who　he　was；　and

what　was　his　name？

　　〃God　knows；〃　exclaimed　he；　at　his　wit's　end；　〃I'm　not　myself…　I'm

somebody　else…　that's　me　yonder…　no…　that's　somebody　else　got　into

my　shoes…　I　was　myself　last　night；　but　I　fell　asleep　on　the

mountain；　and　they've　changed　my　gun；　and　every　thing's　changed；　and

I'm　changed；　and　I　can't　tell　what's　my　name；　or　who　I　am！〃

　　The　bystanders　began　now　to　look　at　each　other；　nod；　wink

significantly；　and　tap　their　fingers　against　their　foreheads。　There

was　a　whisper；　also；　about　securing　the　gun；　and　keeping　the　old

fellow　from　doing　mischief；　at　the　very　suggestion　of　which　the

self…important　man　in　the　cocked　hat　retired　with　some

precipitation。　At　this　critical　moment　a　fresh　comely　woman　pressed

through　the　throng　to　get　a　peep　at　the　gray…bearded　man。　She　had　a

chubby　child　in　her　arms；　which；　frightened　at　his　looks；　began　to

cry。　〃Hush；　Rip；〃　cried　she；　〃hush；　you　little　fool；　the　old　man　won't

hurt　you。〃　The　name　of　the　child；　the　air　of　the　mother；　the　tone　of

her　voice；　all　awakened　a　train　of　recollections　in　his　mind。　〃What　is

your　name；　my　good　woman？〃　asked　he。

　　〃Judith　Gardenier。〃

　　〃And　your　father's　name？〃

　　〃Ah；　poor　man；　Rip　Van　Winkle　was　his　name；　but　it's　twenty　years

since　he　went　away　from　home　with　his　gun；　and　never　has　been　heard　of

since…　his　dog　came　home　without　him；　but　whether　he　shot　himself；

or　was　carried　away　by　the　Indians；　nobody　can　tell。　I　was　then　but

a　little　girl。〃

　　Rip　had　but　one　question　more　to　ask；　but　he　put　it　with　a　faltering

voice：

　　〃Where's　your　mother？〃

　　〃Oh；　she　too　had　died　but　a　short　time　since；　she　broke　a

blood…vessel　in　a　fit　of　passion　at　a　New…England　peddler。〃

　　There　was　a　drop　of　comfort；　at　least；　in　this　intelligence。　The

honest　man　could　contain　himself　no　longer。　He　caught　his　daughter　and

her　child　in　his　arms。　〃I　am　your　father！〃　cried　he　〃Young　Rip　Van

Winkle　once…　old　Rip　Van　Winkle　now！…　Does　nobody　know　poor　Rip　Van

Winkle？〃

　　All　stood　amazed；　until　an　old　woman；　tottering　out　from　among　the

crowd；　put　her　hand　to　her　brow；　and　peering　under　it　in　his　face

for　a　moment；　exclaimed；　〃Sure　enough！　it　is　Rip　Van　Winkle…　it　is

himself！　Welcome　home　again；　old　neighbor…　Why；　where　have　you　been

these　twenty　long　years？〃

　　Rip's　story　was　soon　told；　for　the　whole　twenty　years　had　been　to

him　but　as　one　night。　The　neighbors　stared　when　they　heard　it；　some

were　seen　to　wink　at　each　other；　and　put　their　tongues　in　their

cheeks：　and　the　self…import