I had rented, last summer, a little country house on the banks of the Seine a few miles from Paris, and I used to go down there every night to sleep. In a few days I made the acquaintance of one of my neighbours, a man between thirty and forty, who was certainly the most curious type that I had ever met. He was an old rowing man, crazy about rowing, always near the water, always on the water, always in the water. He must have been born in a boot, and he would certainly die in a boot at last.

One night, while we were walking together along the Seine, I asked him to tell some stories about his life upon the river; and at that the good man suddenly became animated, transfigured, eloquent, almost poetical! In his heart there was one great passion, devouring and irresistible—the river.

“Ah!” said he to me, “how many memories I have of that river which is flowing there beside us. You people who live in streets, you don't know what the river is. But just listen to a fisherman simply pronouncing the word. For him it is the thing mysterious, the thing profound, unknown, the country of mirage and of phantasmagoria, where one sees, at night, things which do not exist, where one hears strange noises, where one trembles causelessly, as though crossing a graveyard. And it is, indeed, the most sinister of graveyards—a graveyard where are no tombstones.

“To the fisherman the land seems limited, but of dark nights, when there is no moon, the river seems limitless. Sailors have no such feeling for the sea. Hard she often is and wicked, the great Sea; but she cries, she shouts, she deals with you fairly, while the river is silent and treacherous. It never even mutters, it flows ever noiselessly, and this eternal flowing movement of water terrifies me far more than the high seas of ocean.

“Dreamers pretend that the Sea hides in her breast great blue regions where drowned men roll to and fro among the huge fish, in the midst of strange forests and in crystal grottos. The river has only black depths, where one rots in the slime. For all that it is beautiful when it glitters in the rising sun or swashes softly along between its banks where the reeds murmur.

“The poet says of the ocean:

“‘O seas, you know sad stories! Deep seas, feared by kneeling mothers, you tell the stories to one another at flood tides! And that is why you have such despairing voices when at night you come towards us nearer and nearer.’

“Well, I think that the stories murmured by the slender reeds with their little soft voices must be yet more sinister than the gloomy dramas told by the howling of the high seas.

“But, since you ask for some of my recollections, I will tell you a curious adventure which I had here about ten years ago.

“I then lived, as I still do, in the house of the old lady Lafon, and one of my best chums, Louis Bernet, who has now given up for the Civil Service his oars, his low shoes, and his sleeveless jersey, lived in the village of C—, two leagues farther down. We dined together every day—sometimes at his place, sometimes at mine.

“One evening as I was returning home alone and rather tired, wearily pulling my heavy boat, a twelve-footer, which I always used at night, I stopped a few seconds to take breath near the point where so many reeds grow, down that way, about two hundred meters before you come to the railroad bridge. It was a beautiful night; the moon was resplendent, the river glittered, the air was calm and soft. The tranquility of it all tempted me; I said to myself that to smoke a pipe just here would be extremely nice. Action followed upon the thought; I seized my anchor and threw it into the stream.

“The boat, which floated down again with the current, pulled the chain out to its full length, then stopped; and I seated myself in the stern on a sheepskin, as comfortable as possible. One heard no sound—no sound; only sometimes I thought I was aware of a low, almost insensible lapping of the water along the bank, and I made out some groups of reeds which, taller than their fellows, took on surprising shapes, and seemed from time to time to stir.

“The river was perfectly still, but I felt myself moved by the extraordinary silence which surrounded me. All the animals—the frogs and toads, those nocturnal singers of the marshes—were silent. Suddenly on my right, near me, a frog croaked; I started; it was silent; I heard nothing more, and I resolved to smoke a little by way of a distraction. But though I am, so to speak, a regular blackener of pipes, I could not smoke that night; after the second puff I sickened of it, and I stopped. I began to hum a tune; the sound of my voice was painful to me; so I stretched myself out in the bottom of the boat and contemplated the sky. For some time I remained quiet, but soon the slight movements of the boat began to make me uneasy. I thought that it was yawing tremendously, striking now this bank of the stream, and now that; then I thought that some Being or some invisible force was dragging it down gently to the bottom of the water, and then was lifting it up simply to let it fall again. I was tossed about as though in the midst of a storm; I heard noises all around me; with a sudden a sudden start I sat upright; the water sparkled, everything was calm.

“I saw that my nerves were unsettled, and I decided to go. I pulled in the chain; the boat moved; then I was conscious of resistance; I pulled harder; the anchor did not come up, it had caught on something at the bottom of the river and I could not lift it. I pulled again—in vain. With my oars I got the boat round up-stream in order to change the position of the anchor. It was no use; the anchor was still held. I grew angry, and in a rage I shook the chain. Nothing moved. There was no hope of breaking the chain, or of getting it loose from my craft, because it was very heavy, and riveted at the bow into a bar of wood thicker than my arm; but since the weather continued fine, I reflected that I should not have to wait long before meeting some fisherman, who would come to my rescue. My mishap had calmed me; I sat down, and I was now able to smoke my pipe. I had a flask of brandy with me;I drank two or three glasses, and my situation made me laugh. It was very hot, so that, if needs must, I could pass the night under the stars without inconvenience.

“Suddenly a little knock sounded against the side. I started, and a cold perspiration froze me from head to foot. The noise came, no doubt, from some bit of wood drawn along by the current, but it was enough, and I felt myself again overpowered by a strange nervous agitation. I seized the chain, and I stiffened myself in a desperate effort. The anchor held. I sat down exhausted.

“But, little by little, the river had covered itself with a very thick white mist, which crept low over the water, so that, standing up, I could no longer see either the stream or my feet or my boat, and saw only the tips of the reeds, and then, beyond them, the plain, all pale in the moonlight, and with great black stains which rose towards heaven, and which were made by clumps of Italian poplars. I was as though wrapped to the waist in a cotton sheet of a strange whiteness, and there began to come to me weird imaginations. I imagined that some one was trying to climb into my boat, since I could no longer see it, and that the river, hidden by this opaque mist, must be full of strange creatures swimming about me. I experienced a horrible uneasiness, I had a tightening at the temples, my heart beat to suffocation; and, losing my head, I thought of escaping by swimming; then in an instant the very idea made me shiver with fright. I saw myself lost, drifting hither and thither in this impenetrable mist, struggling among the long grass and the reeds which I should not be able to avoid, with a rattle in my throat from fear, not seeing the shore, not finding my boat. And it seemed to me as though I felt myself being drawn by the feet down to the bottom of this black water.

“In fact, since I should have had to swim up stream at least five hundred meters before finding a point clear of rushes and reeds, where I could get a footing, there were nine chances to one that, however good a swimmer I might be, I should lose my bearings in the fog and drown.

“I tried to reason with myself. I realized that my will was firmly enough resolved against fear; but there was something in me beside my will, and it was this which felt afraid. I asked myself what it could be that I dreaded; that part of me which was courageous railed at that part of me which was cowardly; and I never had comprehended so well before the opposition between those two beings which exist within us, the one willing, the other resisting, and each in turn getting the mastery.

“This stupid and inexplicable fear grew until it became terror. I remained motionless, my eyes wide open, with a strained and expectant ear. Expecting—what? I did not know save that it would be something terrible. I believe that if a fish, as often happens, had taken it into his head to jump out of the water, it would have needed only that to make me fall stark on my back into a faint.

“And yet, finally, by a violent effort, I very nearly recovered the reason which had been escaping me. I again took my brandy-flask, and out of it I drank great draughts. Then an idea struck me, and I began to shout with all my might, turning in succession towards all four quarters of the horizon. When my throat was completely paralyzed, I listened. A dog howled, a long way off.

“Again I drank; and I lay down on my back in the bottom of the boat. So I remained for one hour, perhaps for two, sleepless, my eyes wide-open, with nightmares all about me. I did not dare to sit up, and yet I had a wild desire to do so; I kept putting it off from minute to minute. I would say to myself: ‘Come! Get up! ' and I was afraid to make a movement. At last I raised myself with infinite precaution, as if life depended on my making not the slightest sound, and I peered over the edge of the boat.

“I was dazzled by the most marvelous, the most astonishing spectacle that it can be possible to see. It was one of those phantasmagoria from fairy-land; it was one of those visions described by travelers returned out of far countries, and which we hear without believing.

“The mist, which two hours before was floating over the water, had gradually withdrawn and piled itself upon the banks. Leaving the river absolutely clear, it had formed, along each shore, long low hills about six or seven meters high, which glittered under the moon with the brilliancy of snow, so that one saw nothing except this river of fire coming down these two white mountains; and there, high above my head, a great, luminous moon, full and large, displayed herself upon a blue and milky sky.

“All the denizens of the water had awaked; the bullfrogs croaked furiously, while, from instant to instant, now on my right, now on my left, I heard those short, mournful, monotonous notes which the brassy voices of the marsh-frogs give forth to the stars. Strangely enough, I was no longer afraid; I was in the midst of such an extraordinary landscape that the most curious things could not have astonished me.

“How long the sight lasted I do not know, because at last I had grown drowsy. When I again opened my eyes the moon had set, the heaven was full of clouds. The water lashed mournfully, the wind whispered, it grew cold, the darkness was profound.

“I drank all the brandy I had left; then I listened shiveringly to the rustling of the reeds and to the sinister noise of the river. I tried to see, but I could not make out the boat nor even my own hands, though I raised them close to my eyes.

“However, little by little the density of the blackness diminished. Suddenly I thought I felt a shadow slipping along near by me; I uttered a cry; a voice replied—it was a fisherman. I hailed him; he approached, and I told him of my mishap. He pulled his boat alongside, and both together we heaved at the chain. The anchor did not budge. The day came on—somber, gray, rainy, cold—one of those days which bring always a sorrow and a misfortune. I made out another craft; we hailed it. The man aboard of it joined his efforts to ours, then, little by little, the anchor yielded. It came up, but slowly, slowly, and weighted down by something very heavy. At last we perceived a black mass, and we pulled it alongside.

“It was the corpse of an old woman with a great stone round her neck.”

去年夏天，我租了一間鄉下小房子—房子位于距離巴黎幾英里的塞納河的河岸上。我常常每天夜里去那里睡覺，不到幾天就結識了一個鄰居——一個三四十歲的男子，他無疑是我見過的最好奇的那種人。他是一名老船工，對劃船非常癡迷，始終是不在水邊，就在水上，要么是在水里。他一定是出生在一條船里，而且最終必定是死在一條船里。

一天夜里，當我們沿著塞納河一起散步時，我請他告訴我他在河上生活的一些故事。聽了我的話，這個不錯的人頓時來了精神，像變了一個人似的，口若懸河，滔滔不絕，簡直具有詩人的氣質！他心中有一股巨大的熱情，一股吞沒一切、無法抗拒的激情——那就是這條河。

“啊！”他對我說，“我對在我們身邊流淌的這條河有多少回憶啊！你們這些生活在城市的人，不知道河是什么。請聽一個打魚人簡單說說這個詞吧。對他來說，它就是神秘的事物，這東西深奧莫測，不為人知，是虛幻縹緲、變化無常的地方。在那里，一個人夜里會看到不存在的東西；在那里，一個人會聽到奇怪的聲音；在那里，一個人會無緣無故地顫抖，就像穿過一座墳墓那樣。而它的確是最兇險的墳墓——一個沒有墓碑的墳墓。

“對打魚人來說，陸地好像是有限的。但是，在沒有月亮的黑夜，河流似乎是無限的。水手們對大海沒有這樣的感覺。大海，盡管她常常冷酷無情又邪惡，但她叫，她喊，她公平待你；而這河卻寂靜無聲，充滿了危險，甚至從不喃喃自語，流淌起來也從來是無聲無息。永遠流淌不息的河水要比激情澎湃的海洋使我恐懼得多。

“空想家們佯稱大海將巨大的藍色區域藏在她的懷里，那里淹死的男人們在巨大的魚中、在奇異的森林里和水晶宮里中翻來滾去。河流反而有兇惡的深淵，一個人會在那里的淤泥里漚爛。雖然如此，但它在升起的陽光下波光粼粼，或者輕輕地蕩漾在沙沙作響的蘆葦岸之間，漂亮極了。

“詩人贊揚大海說：

“‘噢，大海，你經歷了如此多憂傷的故事！深沉的大海啊，你讓下跪的母親們畏懼，每逢漲潮，你就對另一個人述說這些故事！這就是夜晚你走向我們靠得越來越近時你會有那樣絕望聲音的原因。’

“噢，我想，河岸上那些纖細修長的蘆葦，用細小輕柔的喃喃聲娓娓道出的故事，一定比公海咆哮著演講的悲傷故事險惡得多。

“不過，既然你要求聽我的一些回憶，我將告訴你一次稀罕的冒險經歷，那是大約十年前我經歷的事兒。

“那時，像現在一樣，我住在拉芳老太太的房子里。我最要好的朋友路易斯·伯內特——他現在已經放棄給國民服務社提供船槳、短幫膠鞋和無袖運動衫了——當時住兩里格遠一個叫C的村子里。我們每天都在一起吃飯——有時在他那里，有時在我這里。

“一天傍晚，我獨自回家，相當累，疲憊地拖著我那條沉重的船，那是一條十二英尺長的船，我夜里總是用它。我停了幾秒鐘，歇了口氣。那附近長著許許多多蘆葦，沿著那條路走到鐵路橋大約有兩百米。那是一個美麗的夜晚；月光如華，河水閃閃發亮，空氣平靜柔和。河的那種寧靜完全吸引了我；我對自己說，在這里抽袋煙必定非常愜意。一想到就立馬行動；我抓起錨，將它拋進了水流里。

“那條船再次順流而下，將錨鏈拉到最大長度，停了下來。我盡可能舒服地在船尾的一張羊皮上坐下來。什么聲音也聽不到——一點聲音都沒有；只是偶爾我想我能感覺到河水拍打河岸那種幾乎察覺不到的微弱聲響，能辨認出幾叢形態怪異的蘆葦，好像在不時地搖曳擺動，這些蘆葦要比其他蘆葦高。

“河一片寂靜，但我感到自己被這種包圍在自己四周的異常寂靜打動了。所有動物——青蛙和蟾蜍，沼澤里的夜間歌手——都悄無聲息。突然，在我右邊不遠處，一只青蛙呱地叫了一聲；我嚇了一跳；它靜下來；我再也沒有聽到什么聲音。我決定抽點煙，分散一下自己的注意力。盡管可以說我是一個十足的煙鬼，但那天夜里，我抽不進去；抽過第二口，我就感到惡心，便停住，哼起了曲子；嗓音使我厭煩；于是，我舒展身體躺在船底，凝望起天空。我靜靜地躺了一段時間，但很快船微微晃動，使我心神不安起來。我以為那是船在顫動，現在不時地拍打河岸；接著，我想某個人或某種看不見的力量在把它向下拉著，輕輕地把它拉到水底，然后又把它托起，再讓它落下。我被顛來顛去，就像在暴風雨中那樣；我聽到四周到處都是聲音，猛地一驚，坐直身體；河水閃動，一切都靜了下來。

“我看到自己心神不寧，就決定離開。我慢慢地收進錨鏈；船動了；隨后，我意識到了阻力，就加把勁拉。錨沒有上來，掛在了河底的某個東西上，我拽不起來，又拉了一次還是無濟于事。我用船槳讓船轉向上游，以便改變錨的位置。那也不頂用；錨仍緊緊地卡在那里。我氣憤不已，狂怒地搖晃錨鏈，它依然紋絲不動。我沒有希望掙斷錨鏈，也沒有希望把它從我的船上松開，因為它很沉，并鉚接在船頭一根比我的胳膊還粗的木杠上；不過，既然天氣仍然很好，我想不會等很久，就會有某個打魚人來救我。這個不幸事故使我鎮靜了下來；我坐下來，此刻也能抽進煙了。我隨身帶有一瓶白蘭地，喝了兩三杯，當時的處境使我發笑。天很熱，如有必要，我就可以在星空下過夜，沒有什么不便。

“突然，船舷側面響起了一小聲敲擊。我吃了一驚，從頭到腳出了一身冷汗。響聲毫無疑問來自某塊被水流沖來的木頭，但那已足夠了，我感到自己再次被一種莫名其妙的焦慮不安牢牢占據了。我飛快地抓起錨鏈，拼盡全力，繃直身體。還是一動不動。我筋疲力盡，坐了下來。

“但是，漸漸地，河上鋪起了一層厚厚的白霧，慢慢地向水面漂浮下來。即使我站起來，無論水流，還是我的兩只腳或船都已不可見，只能看到蘆葦梢；再往蘆葦那邊，平展的水面在月光下一片慘白，只有幾大塊黑色顏料般的東西向天空聳立著——那是意大利白楊樹叢的身影。我好像被裹在一個齊腰深、格外白的棉布單里。由此，奇異的想象襲上了我的心頭。我想象到某個人正在設法爬進我的船，因為我不再能看得到船，我還想象到，被混沌的霧遮蓋的河中一定在我身邊游滿了好多奇怪的動物。我體驗到了一種可怕的不安，太陽穴發緊，跳得幾近窒息；我不知所措，想到了游著逃開。隨即，這個特別的想法嚇得我不由顫抖。我看到自己迷了路，在這濃不可透的霧中隨波逐流，在深草和蘆葦中掙扎，就是難以脫身，恐懼得喉嚨發出了咯咯聲，看不到河岸，也找不到自己的船，感覺自己好像被拽住腳拽向了漆黑的河底。

“事實上，既然我必須得向上游游至少五百米，然后才能擺脫燈心草和蘆葦，找到一個落腳點，那我只有九分之一的希望，無論我可能游得多么好，我都會在霧水茫茫中迷失方向，最后被淹死。

“我盡力說服自己。我了解自己意志堅定，足以抵制恐懼；但是，我內心的這種東西與意志無關，而正是那個讓人感到害怕。我問自己害怕的可能是什么；我的勇敢嚴厲責罵我的懦弱；之前，我對人的兩面性從來沒有理解得這樣透徹：一邊心甘情愿，一邊又去對抗，輪番占據上風。

“這種難以名狀的愚蠢恐懼漸漸地變成了恐怖。我保持一動不動，兩只眼睛瞪得溜圓，滿含期待地緊張傾聽。期待——什么呢？我不知道，只知道會是可怕的東西。我相信，即使一條魚突發奇想從水里跳出來，這種情況雖然時有發生，也必定會讓我仰面倒地暈過去。

“然而，最后我猛一使勁，好不容易才算恢復了被遺忘的理智。我又一次拿出白蘭地酒瓶，大口大口地喝了一通。我突然有了主意，開始拼命大聲喊叫，相繼朝著地平線的四個方向，直喊得喉嚨完全喊不聲來，我側耳傾聽。有一條狗叫，離得好遠好遠。

“我又喝了一口，隨后在船底仰躺下來，就那樣躺了一個小時，也許兩個小時，沒有睡覺，眼睛瞪得大大的，四周到處都是可怕的東西。我不敢坐起來。可是，我非常想坐起來；我拖了一分鐘又一分鐘，一直都沒有坐起來。我總是在對自己說：‘快點！起來！’不過，我就是不敢動。最后，我小心翼翼地抬起身體，好像發出哪怕最細微的聲響就會喪命似的。隔著船的邊緣，我小心窺探，越過船邊望出去。

“眼前出現的可能是我見過的最神奇、最驚人的景象，我眼花繚亂。那是童話王國里才有的虛幻東西；那是旅行者從遙遠的國度回來后描述的景象，我們只聽不信的情景。

“兩小時前漂浮在水面上的霧已經漸漸退去，聚積在了河岸上。河面已經完全清晰明朗，霧沿河兩岸形成了大約六七米高的連綿小山，在月光下閃著雪一般的光輝，人只看到這條順著兩座白山而來的亮閃閃的河；一輪又圓又大的明月懸在我的頭上，呈現在乳藍色的天空上。

“水中所有的居民都已經蘇醒了；牛蛙呱呱狂叫著；與此同時，我聽到沼澤里青蛙迎著繁星發出的銅管樂般的叫聲，那叫聲忽左忽右，旋律短促、哀婉、單調。奇怪得很，我不再害怕了；置身于這般奇特的美景，再稀奇古怪的事兒也難以讓我驚訝。

“那景象持續了多長時間我不知道，因為最后我漸漸昏昏欲睡。當我再次睜開眼睛時，月亮已經落下，天空烏云密布。河水嗚咽翻滾，風兒颯颯作響，天冷了起來，黑沉沉的。

“我把剩下的白蘭地一飲而盡；我瑟瑟發抖，聆聽著蘆葦的沙沙聲和河水洶涌的咆哮聲。我努力去看，卻分辨不出自己的船，即使我將手舉到眼前，甚至也看不清自己的雙手。

“不過，漸漸地，黑得不是那么濃了。突然，我感到一個陰影悄悄地向我滑近；我發出了一聲叫喊；一個聲音做出了回答——是一個打魚人。我招呼他；他靠上前來，我把自己的不幸遭遇告訴了他。他將自己的船劃過來和我的船并排，我們倆一起拽那根錨鏈。錨還是一動不動。天空漸漸變得昏沉沉、灰蒙蒙、雨淋淋、冷颼颼——這種天氣總是給人帶來悲哀和不幸。我又看到了一條船；我們趕忙招呼。船上的男子也加入進來，跟我們一起用勁；漸漸地，錨松動了。錨被拽得升了上來，但很慢很慢，而且被某種的東西往下墜著。最后，我們發覺是一團黑黑的東西，我們把它拽到跟前。

“是一個老女人的尸體，脖子上綁著一塊大石頭。”