“Whathasbefallenme？”murmuredBeatrice，withalowmoanoutof
　　herheart。“HolyVirginpityme，apoorheartbrokenchild！”
　　“Thou！Dostthoupray？”criedGiovanni，stillwiththesame
　　fiendishscorn。“Thyveryprayers，astheycomefromthylips，taint
　　theatmospherewithdeath。Yes，yes；letuspray！Letustochurch，
　　anddipourfingersintheholywaterattheportal！Theythatcome
　　afteruswillperishasbyapestilence。Letussigncrossesinthe
　　air！Itwillbescatteringcursesabroadinthelikenessofholy
　　symbols！”
　　“Giovanni。”saidBeatricecalmly，forhergriefwasbeyondpassion，
　　“Whydostthoujointhyselfwithmethusinthoseterriblewords？I，
　　itistrue，amthehorriblethingthounamestme。Butthou！what
　　hastthoutodo，savewithoneothershudderatmyhideousmisery，
　　togoforthoutofthegardenandminglewiththyrace，andforget
　　thatthereevercrawledonearthsuchamonsteraspoorBeatrice？”
　　“Dostthoupretendignorance？”askedGiovanni，scowlinguponher。
　　“Behold！ThispowerhaveIgainedfromthepuredaughterof
　　Rappaccini！”
　　Therewasaswarmofsummer-insectsflittingthroughtheair，in
　　searchofthefoodpromisedbytheflower-odorsofthefatalgarden。
　　TheycircledroundGiovanni’shead，andwereevidentlyattracted
　　towardshimbythesameinfluencewhichhaddrawnthem，foran
　　instant，withinthesphereofseveraloftheshrubs。Hesentfortha
　　breathamongthem，andsmiledbitterlyatBeatrice，asatleasta
　　scoreoftheinsectsfelldeadupontheground。
　　“Iseeit！Iseeit！”shriekedBeatrice。“Itismyfather’sfatal
　　science？No，no，Giovanni；itwasnotI！Never，never！Idreamed
　　onlytolovethee，andbewiththeealittletime，andsotolet
　　theepassaway，leavingbutthineimageinmineheart。For，
　　Giovanni-believeit-thoughmybodybenourishedwithpoison，my
　　spiritisGod’screature，andcravesloveasitsdailyfood。Butmy
　　father！hehasunitedusinthisfearfulsympathy。Yes；spurnme！
　　treaduponme！killme！Oh，whatisdeath，aftersuchwordsas
　　thine？ButitwasnotI！NotforaworldofblisswouldIhavedone
　　it！”
　　Giovanni’spassionhadexhausteditselfinitsoutburstfromhis
　　lips。Therenowcameacrosshimasense，mournful，andnotwithout
　　tenderness，oftheintimateandpeculiarrelationshipbetweenBeatrice
　　andhimself。Theystood，asitwere，inanuttersolitude，whichwould
　　bemadenonethelesssolitarybythedensestthrongofhumanlife。
　　Oughtnot，then，thedesertofhumanityaroundthemtopressthis
　　insulatedpairclosertogether？Iftheyshouldbecrueltoone
　　another，whowastheretobekindtothem？Besides，thought
　　Giovanni，mighttherenotstillbeahopeofhisreturningwithin
　　thelimitsofordinarynature，andleadingBeatrice-theredeemed
　　Beatrice-bythehand？Oh，weak，andselfish，andunworthyspirit，
　　thatcoulddreamofanearthlyunionandearthlyhappinessas
　　possible，aftersuchdeeplovehadbeensobitterlywrongedaswas
　　Beatrice’slovebyGiovanni’sblightingwords！No，no；therecould
　　benosuchhope。Shemustpassheavily，withthatbrokenheart，across
　　theborders-shemustbatheherhurtsinsomefountofParadise，and
　　forgethergriefinthelightofimmortality-andtherebewell！
　　ButGiovannididnotknowit。
　　“DearBeatrice，saidhe，approachingher，whilesheshrankaway，as
　　alwaysathisapproach，butnowwithadifferentimpulse-“dearest
　　Beatrice，ourfateisnotyetsodesperate。Behold！Thereisa
　　medicine，potent，asawisephysicianhasassuredme，andalmost
　　divineinitsefficacy。Itiscomposedofingredientsthemost
　　oppositetothosebywhichthyawfulfatherhasbroughtthis
　　calamityupontheeandme。Itisdistilledofblessedherbs。Shall
　　wenotquaffittogether，andthusbepurifiedfromevil？”
　　“Giveitme！”saidBeatrice，extendingherhandtoreceivethe
　　littlesilverphialwhichGiovannitookfromhisbosom。Sheadded，
　　withapeculiaremphasis：“Iwilldrink-butdothouawaitthe
　　result。”
　　SheputBaglioni’santidotetoherlips；and，atthesamemoment，
　　thefigureofRappacciniemergedfromtheportal，andcameslowly
　　towardsthemarblefountain。Ashedrewnear，thepalemanof
　　scienceseemedtogazewithatriumphantexpressionatthebeautiful
　　youthandmaiden，asmightanartistwhoshouldspendhislifein
　　achievingapictureoragroupofstatuary，andfinallybesatisfied
　　withhissuccess。Hepaused-hisbentformgrewerectwithconscious
　　power，hespreadouthishandoverthem，intheattitudeofafather
　　imploringablessinguponhischildren。Butthosewerethesame
　　handsthathadthrownpoisonintothestreamoftheirlives！
　　Giovannitrembled。Beatriceshudderedverynervously，andpressed
　　herhanduponherheart。
　　“Mydaughter。”saidRappaccini，“thouartnolongerlonelyinthe
　　world！Pluckoneofthosepreciousgemsfromthysistershrub，andbid
　　thybridegroomwearitinhisbosom。Itwillnotharmhimnow！My
　　science，andthesympathybetweentheeandhim，havesowroughtwithin
　　hissystem，thathenowstandsapartfromcommonmen，asthoudost，
　　daughterofmyprideandtriumph，fromordinarywomen。Passon，
　　then，throughtheworld，mostdeartooneanother，anddreadfultoall
　　besides！”
　　“Myfather。”saidBeatrice，feebly-andstill，asshespoke，she
　　keptherhanduponherheart-“whereforedidstthouinflictthis
　　miserabledoomuponthychild？”
　　“Miserable！”exclaimedRappaccini。“Whatmeanyou，foolishgirl？
　　Dostthoudeemitmiserytobeendowedwithmarvellousgifts，
　　againstwhichnopowernorstrengthcouldavailanenemy？Misery，to
　　beabletoquellthemightiestwithabreath？Misery，tobeas
　　terribleasthouartbeautiful？Wouldstthou，then，havepreferredthe
　　conditionofaweakwoman，exposedtoallevil，andcapableofnone？”
　　“Iwouldfainhavebeenloved，notfeared，murmuredBeatrice，
　　sinkingdownupontheground。“Butnowitmattersnot；Iamgoing，
　　father，wheretheevil，whichthouhaststriventominglewithmy
　　being，willpassawaylikeadream-likethefragranceofthese
　　poisonousflowers，whichwillnolongertaintmybreathamongthe
　　flowersofEden。Farewell，Giovanni！Thywordsofhatredarelikelead
　　withinmyheart-butthey，too，willfallawayasIascend。Oh，was
　　therenot，fromthefirst，morepoisoninthynaturethaninmine？”
　　ToBeatrice-soradicallyhadherearthlypartbeenwroughtuponby
　　Rappaccini’sskill-aspoisonhadbeenlife，sothepowerful
　　antidotewasdeath。Andthusthepoorvictimofman’singenuityandof
　　thwartednature，andofthefatalitythatattendsallsuchefforts
　　ofpervertedwisdom，perishedthere，atthefeetofherfatherand
　　Giovanni。Justatthatmoment，ProfessorPietroBaglionilooked
　　forthfromthewindow，andcalledloudly，inatoneoftriumphmixed
　　withhorror，tothethunder-strickenmanofscience：“Rappaccini！
　　Rappaccini！Andisthistheupshotofyourexperiment？”
　　byNathanielHawthorne
　　ONESEPTEMBERNIGHTafamilyhadgatheredroundtheirhearth，and
　　piledithighwiththedriftwoodofmountainstreams，thedryconesof
　　thepine，andthesplinteredruinsofgreattreesthathadcome
　　crashingdowntheprecipice。Upthechimneyroaredthefire，and
　　brightenedtheroomwithitsbroadblaze。Thefacesofthefather
　　andmotherhadasobergladness；thechildrenlaughed；theeldest
　　daughterwastheimageofHappinessatseventeen；andtheaged
　　grandmother，whosatknittinginthewarmestplace，wastheimageof
　　Happinessgrownold。Theyhadfoundthe“herb，heart’s-ease。”inthe
　　bleakestspotofallNewEngland。Thisfamilyweresituatedinthe
　　NotchoftheWhiteHills，wherethewindwassharpthroughoutthe
　　year，andpitilesslycoldinthewinter-givingtheircottageall
　　itsfreshinclemencybeforeitdescendedonthevalleyoftheSaco。
　　Theydweltinacoldspotandadangerousone；foramountain
　　toweredabovetheirheads，sosteep，thatthestoneswouldoften
　　rumbledownitssidesandstartlethematmidnight。
　　Thedaughterhadjustutteredsomesimplejestthatfilledthemall
　　withmirth，whenthewindcamethroughtheNotchandseemedtopause
　　beforetheircottage-rattlingthedoor，withasoundofwailingand
　　lamentation，beforeitpassedintothevalley。Foramomentit
　　saddenedthem，thoughtherewasnothingunusualinthetones。But
　　thefamilyweregladagainwhentheyperceivedthatthelatchwas
　　liftedbysometraveller，whosefootstepshadbeenunheardamidthe
　　drearyblastwhichheraldedhisapproach，andwailedashewas
　　entering，andwentmoaningawayfromthedoor。
　　Thoughtheydweltinsuchasolitude，thesepeoplehelddaily
　　conversewiththeworld。TheromanticpassoftheNotchisagreat
　　artery，throughwhichthelife-bloodofinternalcommerceis
　　continuallythrobbingbetweenMaine，ononeside，andtheGreen
　　MountainsandtheshoresoftheSt。Lawrence，ontheother。The
　　stage-coachalwaysdrewupbeforethedoorofthecottage。The
　　way-farer，withnocompanionbuthisstaff，pausedheretoexchange
　　aword，thatthesenseoflonelinessmightnotutterlyovercomehim
　　erehecouldpassthroughthecleftofthemountain，orreachthe
　　firsthouseinthevalley。Andheretheteamster，onhiswayto
　　Portlandmarket，wouldputupforthenight；and，ifabachelor，might
　　sitanhourbeyondtheusualbedtime，andstealakissfromthe
　　mountainmaidatparting。Itwasoneofthoseprimitivetaverns
　　wherethetravellerpaysonlyforfoodandlodging，butmeetswitha
　　homelykindnessbeyondallprice。Whenthefootstepswereheard，
　　therefore，betweentheouterdoorandtheinnerone，thewhole
　　familyroseup，grandmother，children，andall，asifabouttowelcome
　　someonewhobelongedtothem，andwhosefatewaslinkedwiththeirs。
　　Thedoorwasopenedbyayoungman。Hisfaceatfirstworethe
　　melancholyexpression，almostdespondency，ofonewhotravelsawild
　　andbleakroad，atnightfallandalone，butsoonbrightenedupwhenhe
　　sawthekindlywarmthofhisreception。Hefelthisheartspring
　　forwardtomeetthemall，fromtheoldwoman，whowipedachairwith
　　herapron，tothelittlechildthatheldoutitsarmstohim。One
　　glanceandsmileplacedthestrangeronafootingofinnocent
　　familiaritywiththeeldestdaughter。
　　“Ah，thisfireistherightthing！”criedhe；“especiallywhen
　　thereissuchapleasantcircleroundit。Iamquitebenumbed；forthe
　　Notchisjustlikethepipeofagreatpairofbellows；ithasblowna
　　terribleblastinmyfaceallthewayfromBartlett。”
　　“ThenyouaregoingtowardsVermont？”saidthemasterofthehouse，
　　ashehelpedtotakealightknapsackofftheyoungman’sshoulders。
　　“Yes；toBurlington，andfarenoughbeyond。”repliedhe。“Imeant
　　tohavebeenatEthanCrawford’stonight；butapedestrianlingers
　　alongsucharoadasthis。Itisnomatter；for，whenIsawthis
　　goodfire，andallyourcheerfulfaces，Ifeltasifyouhadkindled
　　itonpurposeforme，andwerewaitingmyarrival。SoIshallsitdown
　　amongyou，andmakemyselfathome。”
　　Thefrank-heartedstrangerhadjustdrawnhischairtothefire
　　whensomethinglikeaheavyfootstepwasheardwithout，rushingdown
　　thesteepsideofthemountain，aswithlongandrapidstrides，and
　　takingsuchaleapinpassingthecottageastostriketheopposite
　　precipice。Thefamilyheldtheirbreath，becausetheyknewthe
　　sound，andtheirguestheldhisbyinstinct。
　　“Theoldmountainhasthrownastoneatus，forfearweshould
　　forgethim。”saidthelandlord，recoveringhimself。“Hesometimesnods
　　hisheadandthreatenstocomedown；butweareoldneighbors，and
　　agreetogetherprettywelluponthewhole。Besideswehaveasure
　　placeofrefugehardbyifheshouldbecomingingoodearnest。”
　　Letusnowsupposethestrangertohavefinishedhissupperof
　　bear’smeat；and，byhisnaturalfelicityofmanner，tohaveplaced
　　himselfonafootingofkindnesswiththewholefamily，sothatthey
　　talkedasfreelytogetherasifhebelongedtotheirmountainbrood。
　　Hewasofaproud，yetgentlespirit-haughtyandreservedamongthe
　　richandgreat；buteverreadytostoophisheadtothelowly
　　cottagedoor，andbelikeabrotherorasonatthepoorman’s
　　fireside。InthehouseholdoftheNotchhefoundwarmthandsimplicity
　　offeeling，thepervadingintelligenceofNewEngland，andapoetryof
　　nativegrowth，whichtheyhadgatheredwhentheylittlethoughtof
　　itfromthemountainpeaksandchasms，andattheverythresholdof
　　theirromanticanddangerousabode。Hehadtravelledfarandalone；
　　hiswholelife，indeed，hadbeenasolitarypath；for，withthe
　　loftycautionofhisnature，hehadkepthimselfapartfromthose
　　whomightotherwisehavebeenhiscompanions。Thefamily，too，
　　thoughsokindandhospitable，hadthatconsciousnessofunityamong
　　themselves，andseparationfromtheworldatlarge，which，inevery
　　domesticcircle，shouldstillkeepaholyplacewherenostranger
　　mayintrude。Butthiseveningapropheticsympathyimpelledthe
　　refinedandeducatedyouthtopourouthisheartbeforethesimple
　　mountaineers，andconstrainedthemtoanswerhimwiththesamefree
　　confidence。Andthusitshouldhavebeen。Isnotthekindredofa
　　commonfateaclosertiethanthatofbirth？
　　Thesecretoftheyoungman’scharacterwasahighandabstracted
　　ambition。Hecouldhavebornetoliveanundistinguishedlife，butnot
　　tobeforgotteninthegrave。Yearningdesirehadbeentransformed
　　tohope；andhope，longcherished，hadbecomelikecertainty，that，
　　obscurelyashejourneyednow，aglorywastobeamonallhispathway-
　　thoughnot，perhaps，whilehewastreadingit。Butwhenposterity
　　shouldgazebackintothegloomofwhatwasnowthepresent，they
　　wouldtracethebrightnessofhisfootsteps，brighteningasmeaner
　　gloriesfaded，andconfessthatagiftedonehadpassedfromhis
　　cradletohistombwithnonetorecognizehim。
　　“Asyet。”criedthestranger-hischeekglowingandhiseye
　　flashingwithenthusiasm-“asyet，Ihavedonenothing。WereIto
　　vanishfromtheearthtomorrow，nonewouldknowsomuchofmeas
　　you：thatanamelessyouthcameupatnightfallfromthevalleyofthe
　　Saco，andopenedhishearttoyouintheevening，andpassedthrough
　　theNotchbysunrise，andwasseennomore。Notasoulwouldask，’Who
　　washe？Whitherdidthewanderergo？’ButIcannotdietillIhave
　　achievedmydestiny。Then，letDeathcome！Ishallhavebuiltmy
　　monument！”