71 The tinge of passion that had colored Beatrice’s manner vanished，she becamegay，and appeared to derive a pure delight from her munion with the youth，not unlike what the maiden of a lonely island might have felt，conversing with a voyager from the civilized world。Evidently her experience of life had been confined within the limits of that garden。She talked now about matters as simple asthe day-light or summer-clouds，and now asked questions in reference to the city，or Giovanni’s distant home，his friends，his mother，and his sistersquestions indicating such seclusion，and such lack of familiarity with modes and forms，that Giovanni responded as if to an infant。Her spirit gushed out before him like a fresh rill，that was just catching its first glimpse of the sunlight，and wondering at the reflections of earth and sky which were flung into its bosom。There came thoughts，too，from a deep source，and fantasies of a gem-like brilliancy，as if diamonds and rubies sparkled upward among the bubbles of the fountain。Ever and anon，there gleamed across the young man’s mind a sense of wonder，that he should be walking side by side with the being who had so wrought upon his imagination—whom he had idealized in such hues of terror—in whom he had positively witnessed such manifestations of dreadful attributes—that he should be conversing with Beatrice like a brother，and should find her so human and so maiden-like。But such reflections were only momentarythe effect of her character was too real，not to make itself familiar at once。
72 In this free intercourse，they had strayed through the garden，and now，after many turns among its avenues，were e to the shattered fountain，beside which grew the magnificent shrub with its treasury of glowing blossoms。A fragrance was diffused from it，which Giovanni recognized as identical with that which he had attributed to Beatrice’s breath，but inparably more powerful。As her eyesfell upon it，Giovanni beheld her press her hand to her bosom，as if her heart were throbbing suddenly and painfully。
73 “For the first time in my life，”murmured she，addressing the shrub，“I had forgotten thee！”
74 “I remember，Signora，”said Giovanni，“that you once promised to reward me with one of these living gems for the bouquet，which I had the happy boldness to fling to your feet。Permit me now to pluck it as a memorial of this interview。”
75 He made a step towards the shrub，with extended hand。But Beatrice darted forward，uttering a shriek that went through his heart like a dagger。She caught his hand，and drew it back with the whole force of her slender figure。Giovanni felt her touch thrilling through his fingers。
76 “Touch it not！”exclaimed she，in a voice of agony。“Not for thy life！It is fatal！”
77 Then，hiding her face，she fled from him，and vanished beneath the sculptured portal。As Giovanni followed her with his eyes，he beheld the emaciated figureand pale intelligence of Doctor Rappaccini，who had been watching the scene，heknew not how long，within the shadow of the entrance。
tinge：n。氣息，風味
seclusion：n。隔離
rill：n。小河，小溪
ruby：n。紅寶石
momentary：adj。瞬間的，刹那間的
inparably：adv。無比地，無敵地
fling：v。直衝，急行
finger：n。手指
portal：n。入口78No sooner was Guasconti alone in his chamber，than the image of Beatrice came back to his passionate musings，invested with all the witcherythat had been gathering around it ever since his first glimpse of her，and now likewise imbued with a tender warmth of girlish womanhood。She was human：her nature was endowedwith all gentle and feminine qualitiesshe was worthiest to be worshippedshewas capable，surely，on her part，of the height and heroism of love。Those tokens，which he had hitherto considered as proofs of a frightful peculiarity in herphysical and moral system，were now either forgotten，or，by the subtle sophistry of passion，transmuted into a golden crown of enchantment，rendering Beatricethe more admirable，by so much as she was the more unique。Whatever had looked ugly，was now beautifulor，if incapable of such a change，it stole away and hid itself among those shapeless half-ideas，which throng the dimregion beyond the daylight of our perfect consciousness。Thus did Giovanni spend the night，nor fell asleep，until the dawn had begun to awake the slumbering flowers in Doctor Rappaccini’s garden，whither his dreams doubtless led him。
Up rose the sun in his due season，and flinging his beams upon the young man’s eyelids，awoke him toa sense of pain。When thoroughly aroused，he became sensible of a burning and tingling agony in his hand—in his right hand—the very hand which Beatrice had grasped in her own，when he was on the point of plucking one of the gem-like flowers。On the back of that hand there was now a purple print，like that of four small fingers，and the likeness of a slender thumb upon his wrist。
79 Oh，how stubbornly does love—or even that cunning semblance oflove which flourishes in the imagination，but strikes no depth of root into the heart—howstubbornly does it hold its faith，until the moment e，when it is doomed to vanish into thin mist！Giovanni wrapt a handkerchief about his hand，and wondered what evil thing had stung him，and soon forgot his pain in a reverie of Beatrice。
80 After the first interview，a second was in the inevitable course of what we call fate。A third，a fourth，and a meeting with Beatrice in the garden was no longer an incident in Giovanni’s daily life，but the whole space in which he might be said to livefor the anticipation and memory of that ecstatic hour made upthe remainder。Nor was it otherwise with the daughter of Rappaccini。She watched for the youth’s appearance，and flew to his side with confidence as unreserved as if they had been playmates from early infancy—as if they were such playmates still。If，by any unwonted chance，he failed to e at the appointed moment，she stood beneath the window，and sent up the rich sweetness of her tones to float around him in his chamber，and echo and reverberate throughout his heart—“Giovanni！Giovanni！Why tarriest thou？Come down！”—And down he hastened into thatEden of poisonous flowers。
81 But，with all this intimate familiarity，there was still a reserve in Beatrice’s demeanor，so rigidly and invariably sustained，that the idea of infringingit scarcely occurred to his imagination。By all appreciable signs，they lovedthey had looked love，with eyes that conveyed the holy secret from the depths of one soul into the depths of the other，as if it were too sacred to be whispered by the waythey had even spoken love，in those gushes of passion when their spirits darted forth in articulated breath，like tongues of long-hidden flameandyet there had been no seal of lips，no clasp of hands，nor any slightest caress，suchas love claims and hallows。He had never touched one of the gleaming ringlets of her hairher garment—so marked was the physical barrier between them—had never been waved against him by a breeze。On the few occasions when Giovanni had seemed tempted to overstep the limit，Beatrice grew so sad，so stern，and withal wore such a look of desolate separation，shuddering at itself，that not a spoken word was requisite to repel him。At such times，he was startled at the horrible suspicions that rose，monster-like，out of the caverns of his heart，and stared him in the facehis love grew thin and faint as the morning-misthis doubts alone had substance。But when Beatrice’s face brightened again，after the momentary shadow，she was transformed at once from the mysterious，questionable being，whom he had watched with so much awe and horrorshe was now the beautiful and unsophisticated girl，whom he felt that his spirit knew with a certainty beyond all other knowledge。
witchery：n。巫術，魅力
sophistry：n。詭辯
transmute：v。改變
enchantment：n。迷惑，著迷
throng：v。群集
slumber：v。睡眠
reverie：n。幻想
ecstatic：adj。狂喜的，心醉神迷的
reverberate：v。反響
demeanor：n。行為，風度
infringe：v。破壞，侵犯
clasp：n。緊握，握手
stern：adj。嚴厲的，苛刻的
requisite：adj。必不可少的，必備的82A considerable time had now passed since Giovanni’s last meeting with Baglioni。One morning，however，he was disagreeably surprised by a visit from the Professor，whom he had scarcely thought of for whole weeks，and would willingly haveforgotten still longer。Given up，as he had long been，to a pervading excitement，he could tolerate no panions，except upon condition of their perfect sympathy with his present state of feeling。Such sympathy was not to be expected fromProfessor Baglioni。
83 The visitor chatted carelessly，for a few moments，about the gossip of the city and the University，and then took up another topic。
84 “I have been reading an old classic author lately，”said he，“andmet with astory that strangely interested me。Possibly you may remember it。It is of an Indian prince，who sent a beautiful woman as a present to Alexander the Great。She was as lovely as the dawn，and gorgeous as the sunsetbut what especially distinguished her was a certain rich perfume in her breath—richer than a garden ofPersian roses。Alexander，as was natural to a youthful conqueror，fell in love at first sight with this magnificent stranger。But a certain sage physician，happening to be present，discovered a terrible secret in regard to her。”
85 “And what was that？”asked Giovanni，turning his eyes downward toavoid those of the Professor。
86 “That this lovely woman，”continued Baglioni，with emphasis，“hadbeen nourished with poisons from her birth upward，until her whole nature was so imbued with them，that she herself had bee the deadliest poison in existence。Poison was her element of life。With that rich perfume of her breath，she blasted the very air。Her love would have been poison！—Her embrace death！Is not this a marvellous tale？”
87 “A childish fable，”answered Giovanni，nervously starting from his chair。“Imarvel how your worship finds time to read such nonsense，among your graver studies。”
88 “By the by，”said the Professor，looking uneasily about him，“what singularfragrance is this in your apartment？Is it the perfume of your gloves？It is faint，but delicious，and yet，after all，by no means agreeable。Were I to breatheit long，methinks it would make me ill。It is like the breath of a flower—but I see no flowers in the chamber。”
89 “Nor are there any，”replied Giovanni，who had turned pale as theProfessor spoke，“nor，I think，is there any fragrance，except in your worship’s imagination。Odors，being a sort of element bined of the sensual and the spiritual，are apt to deceive us in this manner。The recollection of a perfume—the bare idea of it—may easily be mistaken for a present reality。”