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恶魔麦诺克(英文原著 Memnoch the Devil)

时间:2013-11-11 13:19:18  来源:  作者:Anne Rice  
简介:  安妮·赖斯是美国当代著名的小说家之一,有“吸血鬼之母”之称,她1941年出生在美国新奥尔良,1961年与诗人斯坦·赖斯结为伉俪,1964年获旧金山州立大学学士学位,1971年获加州大学硕士学位。她在成名之前做过多种工作:女招待、厨师、引座员等等,经历十分丰富,为她的写作奠定了充实的基础。
  赖斯的作品以生动描写恐怖情节而著称,小说的主题多为历史背景下人的离群索居及对自我的追求,小说中的人物总是现实社会或非现实社会中孤立的群体。
  安妮赖斯的的主要作品有十二部,共称为《吸血鬼编年史》,它们分别是...
  "If you could have seen his face when he saw that eye on the step,"I said.
  "What was it in his face?" Dora asked.
  "Horror, horror that such a thing had happened. You see, whenhe reached for me, I think that his two fingers, like this, went into theeye socket, overshooting the mark. He had merely meant to grab meby the hair. But when his fingers plunged into the socket, he tried inhorror to draw them out, and out came the eye, spilling down myface, and he was horror-stricken!""You love him," said Armand in a hushed voice.
  "I love him. Yes, I think he's right about everything. But I don'tbelieve in anything!""Why didn't you accept?" asked Armand. "Why didn't you givehim your soul?"Oh, how innocent he sounded, how it came from his heart, ancientand childlike, a heart so preternaturally strong that it had takenhundreds of years to render it safe to beat in the company of mortalhearts.
  Little Devil, Armand!
  "Why didn't you accept!" he implored.
  "They let you escape, and they had a purpose," said David. "Itwas like the vision I saw in the cafe.""Yes, and they had a purpose," I said. "But did I defeat theirpurpose?" I looked to him for the answer, he the wise one, the old one inhuman years. "David, did I defeat them when I took you out of life?
  Did I defeat them somehow some other way? Oh, if only I couldremember, their voices in the beginning. Vengeance. Someone saidthat it wasn't simple vengeance. But it was those fragments. I can'tremember now. What's happened! Will they come back for me?"I fell to crying again. Stupid. I fell to describing Memnoch again,in all his forms, even the Ordinary Man, who had been soextraordinary in his proportions, the haunting footsteps, the wings, the smoke,the glory of Heaven, the singing of angels ... "Sapphiric ..." I whispered.
  "Those surfaces, all the things the prophets saw and sprinkledthroughout their books with words like topaz and beryl and fire andgold and ice and snow, and it was all there ... and He said, 'Drink myBlood!' I did it!"They drew close to me. I'd scared them. I'd been too loud, toocrazed, too possessed. They stood around me, their arms against me,her fiery white human arms, the warmest, the sweetest of all, andDavid's dark brow pushed against my face.
  "If you let me," said Armand, his fingers slipping up to my collar,"if you let me drink, then I'll know. . . .""No, all you'll know is that I believe what 1 saw, that's all  Ii said..
  "No," he said, shaking his head. "I'll know the blood of Christ if Itaste it."I shook my head. "Back away from me. I don't even know whatthe veil will look like. Will it look like something with which I wipedmy blood sweat in my sleep as I dreamt? Back away."They obeyed. They were a loose triangle. I had my back to theinner wall so that I could see the snow on my left side, though I hadto turn my head to the left now to do it. I looked at them. My righthand fumbled inside my vest, it drew out the thick wad, and I feltsomething, something tiny and strange which I could not explain tothem, or put into words even for myself, I felt the weave, that weaveof cloth, that ancient weave!
  I drew out the veil, not looking myself, and held it up as if I wereVeronica showing it to the crowd.
  A silence gripped the room. A motionlessness.
  Then I saw Armand go down on his knees. And Dora let out herlong, keening cry.
  "Dear God," said David.
  Shivering, I lowered the veil, still held wide open with bothhands, and turned it so I could see the reflection of the veil in thedark glass against the snow, as if it was the Gorgon and was goingto kill me.
  His Face! His Face blasted into the veil. I looked down. GodIncarnate staring at me from the most minute detail, burnt into thecloth, not painted or stained, or sewn or drawn, but blasted into thevery fibers, His Face, the Face of God in that instant, dripping withblood from His Crown of Thorns.
  "Yes," I whispered. "Yes, yes." I fell on my knees. "Oh, yes, sovery complete, down to the last detail."I felt her take the veil. I would have snatched it back if either ofthem had tried. But into her small hand, I entrusted it, and she held itup now turning round and round, so that all of us could see His darkeyes shining from the cloth!
  "It's God!" she screamed. "It's Veronica's Veil!" Her cry grewtriumphant and then filled with joy. "Father, you've done it! Youhave given me the Veil!"And she began to laugh, as one who had seen all the visions onecan endure to see, dancing round and round, with the veil held high,singing one syllable over and over again.
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