达芬奇密码 作者: 美 丹·布朗(英文版)- 第21部分

Inside　the　Salle　des　Etats；　Langdon　stared　in　astonishment　at　the　six　words　glowing　on　the　Plexiglas。　The　text　seemed　to　hover　in　space；　casting　a　jagged　shadow　across　Mona　Lisa's　mysterious　smile。
〃The　Priory；〃　Langdon　whispered。　〃This　proves　your　grandfather　was　a　member！〃
Sophie　looked　at　him　in　confusion。　〃You　understand　this？〃
〃It's　flawless；〃　Langdon　said；　nodding　as　his　thoughts　churned。　〃It's　a　proclamation　of　one　of　the　Priory's　most　fundamental　philosophies！〃
Sophie　looked　baffled　in　the　glow　of　the　message　scrawled　across　the　Mona　Lisa's　face。
SO　DARK　THE　CON　OF　MAN
　
〃Sophie；〃　Langdon　said；　〃the　Priory's　tradition　of　perpetuating　goddess　worship　is　based　on　a　belief　that　powerful　men　in　the　early　Christian　church　'conned'　the　world　by　propagating　lies　that　devalued　the　female　and　tipped　the　scales　in　favor　of　the　masculine。〃
Sophie　remained　silent；　staring　at　the　words。
〃The　Priory　believes　that　Constantine　and　his　male　successors　successfully　converted　the　world　from　matriarchal　paganism　to　patriarchal　Christianity　by　waging　a　campaign　of　propaganda　that　demonized　the　sacred　feminine；　obliterating　the　goddess　from　modern　religion　forever。〃
Sophie's　expression　remained　uncertain。　〃My　grandfather　sent　me　to　this　spot　to　find　this。　He　must　be　trying　to　tell　me　more　than　that。〃
Langdon　understood　her　meaning。　She　thinks　this　is　another　code。　Whether　a　hidden　meaning　existed　here　or　not；　Langdon　could　not　immediately　say。　His　mind　was　still　grappling　with　the　bold　clarity　of　Saunière's　outward　message。
So　dark　the　con　of　man；　he　thought。　So　dark　indeed。
Nobody　could　deny　the　enormous　good　the　modern　Church　did　in　today's　troubled　world；　and　yet　the　Church　had　a　deceitful　and　violent　history。　Their　brutal　crusade　to　〃reeducate〃　the　pagan　and　feminine…worshipping　religions　spanned　three　centuries；　employing　methods　as　inspired　as　they　were　horrific。
The　Catholic　Inquisition　published　the　book　that　arguably　could　be　called　the　most　blood…soaked　publication　in　human　history。　Malleus　Maleficarum—or　The　Witches'　Hammer—indoctrinated　the　world　to　〃the　dangers　of　freethinking　women〃　and　instructed　the　clergy　how　to　locate；　torture；　and　destroy　them。　Those　deemed　〃witches〃　by　the　Church　included　all　female　scholars；　priestesses；　gypsies；　mystics；　nature　lovers；　herb　gatherers；　and　any　women　〃suspiciously　attuned　to　the　natural　world。〃　Midwives　also　were　killed　for　their　heretical　practice　of　using　medical　knowledge　to　ease　the　pain　of　childbirth—a　suffering；　the　Church　claimed；　that　was　God's　rightful　punishment　for　Eve's　partaking　of　the　Apple　of　Knowledge；　thus　giving　birth　to　the　idea　of　Original　Sin。　During　three　hundred　years　of　witch　hunts；　the　Church　burned　at　the　stake　an　astounding　five　million　women。
The　propaganda　and　bloodshed　had　worked。
Today's　world　was　living　proof。
Women；　once　celebrated　as　an　essential　half　of　spiritual　enlightenment；　had　been　banished　from　the　temples　of　the　world。　There　were　no　female　Orthodox　rabbis；　Catholic　priests；　nor　Islamic　clerics。　The　once　hallowed　act　of　Hieros　Gamos—the　natural　sexual　union　between　man　and　woman　through　which　each　became　spiritually　whole—had　been　recast　as　a　shameful　act。　Holy　men　who　had　once　required　sexual　union　with　their　female　counterparts　to　mune　with　God　now　feared　their　natural　sexual　urges　as　the　work　of　the　devil；　collaborating　with　his　favorite　acplice。。。　woman。
Not　even　the　feminine　association　with　the　left…hand　side　could　escape　the　Church's　defamation。　In　France　and　Italy；　the　words　for　〃left〃—gauche　and　sinistra—came　to　have　deeply　negative　overtones；　while　their　right…hand　counterparts　rang　of　righteousness；　dexterity；　and　correctness。　To　this　day；　radical　thought　was　considered　left　wing；　irrational　thought　was　left　brain；　and　anything　evil；　sinister。
The　days　of　the　goddess　were　over。　The　pendulum　had　swung。　Mother　Earth　had　bee　a　man's　world；　and　the　gods　of　destruction　and　war　were　taking　their　toll。　The　male　ego　had　spent　two　millennia　running　unchecked　by　its　female　counterpart。　The　Priory　of　Sion　believed　that　it　was　this　obliteration　of　the　sacred　feminine　in　modern　life　that　had　caused　what　the　Hopi　Native　Americans　called　koyanisquatsi—〃life　out　of　balance〃—an　unstable　situation　marked　by　testosterone…fueled　wars；　a　plethora　of　misogynistic　societies；　and　a　growing　disrespect　for　Mother　Earth。
〃Robert！〃　Sophie　said；　her　whisper　yanking　him　back。　〃Someone's　ing！〃
He　heard　the　approaching　footsteps　out　in　the　hallway。
〃Over　here！〃　Sophie　extinguished　the　black　light　and　seemed　to　evaporate　before　Langdon's　eyes。
For　an　instant　he　felt　totally　blind。　Over　where！　As　his　vision　cleared　he　saw　Sophie's　silhouette　racing　toward　the　center　of　the　room　and　ducking　out　of　sight　behind　the　octagonal　viewing　bench。　He　was　about　to　dash　after　her　when　a　booming　voice　stopped　him　cold。
〃Arrêtez！〃　a　man　manded　from　the　doorway。
The　Louvre　security　agent　advanced　through　the　entrance　to　the　Salle　des　Etats；　his　pistol　outstretched；　taking　deadly　aim　at　Langdon's　chest。
Langdon　felt　his　arms　raise　instinctively　for　the　ceiling。
〃Couchez…vous！〃　the　guard　manded。　〃Lie　down！〃
Langdon　was　face　first　on　the　floor　in　a　matter　of　seconds。　The　guard　hurried　over　and　kicked　his　legs　apart；　spreading　Langdon　out。
〃Mauvaise　idée；　Monsieur　Langdon；〃　he　said；　pressing　the　gun　hard　into　Langdon's　back。　〃Mauvaise　idée。〃
Face　down　on　the　parquet　floor　with　his　arms　and　legs　spread　wide；　Langdon　found　little　humor　in　the　irony　of　his　position。　The　Vitruvian　Man；　he　thought。　Face　down。
　
CHAPTER　29

Inside　Saint…Sulpice；　Silas　carried　the　heavy　iron　votive　candle　holder　from　the　altar　back　toward　the　obelisk。　The　shaft　would　do　nicely　as　a　battering　ram。　Eyeing　the　gray　marble　panel　that　covered　the　apparent　hollow　in　the　floor；　he　realized　he　could　not　possibly　shatter　the　covering　without　making　considerable　noise。
Iron　on　marble。　It　would　echo　off　the　vaulted　ceilings。
Would　the　nun　hear　him？　She　should　be　asleep　by　now。　Even　so；　it　was　a　chance　Silas　preferred　not　to　take。　Looking　around　for　a　cloth　to　wrap　around　the　tip　of　the　iron　pole；　he　saw　nothing　except　the　altar's　linen　mantle；　which　he　refused　to　defile。　My　cloak；　he　thought。　Knowing　he　was　alone　in　the　great　church；　Silas　untied　his　cloak　and　slipped　it　off　his　body。　As　he　removed　it；　he　felt　a　sting　as　the　wool　fibers　stuck　to　the　fresh　wounds　on　his　back。
Naked　now；　except　for　his　loin　swaddle；　Silas　wrapped　his　cloak　over　the　end　of　the　iron　rod。　Then；　aiming　at　the　center　of　the　floor　tile；　he　drove　the　tip　into　it。　A　muffled　thud。　The　stone　did　not　break。　He　drove　the　pole　into　it　again。　Again　a　dull　thud；　but　this　time　acpanied　by　a　crack。　On　the　third　swing；　the　covering　finally　shattered；　and　stone　shards　fell　into　a　hollow　area　beneath　the　floor。
A　partment！
Quickly　pulling　the　remaining　pieces　from　the　opening；　Silas　gazed　into　the　void。　His　blood　pounded　as　he　knelt　down　before　it。　Raising　his　pale　bare　arm；　he　reached　inside。
At　first　he　felt　nothing。　The　floor　of　the　partment　was　bare；　smooth　stone。　Then；　feeling　deeper；　reaching　his　arm　in　under　the　Rose　Line；　he　touched　something！　A　thick　stone　tablet。　Getting　his　fingers　around　the　edge；　he　gripped　it　and　gently　lifted　the　tablet　out。　As　he　stood　and　examined　his　find；　he　realized　he　was　holding　a　rough…hewn　stone　slab　with　engraved　words。　He　felt　for　an　instant　like　a　modern…day　Moses。
As　Silas　read　the　words　on　the　tablet；　he　felt　surprise。　He　had　expected　the　keystone　to　be　a　map；　or　a　plex　series　of　directions；　perhaps　even　encoded。　The　keystone；　however；　bore　the　simplest　of　inscriptions。
Job　38：11
A　Bible　verse？　Silas　was　stunned　with　the　devilish　simplicity。　The　secret　location　of　that　which　they　sought　was　revealed　in　a　Bible　verse？　The　brotherhood　stopped　at　nothing　to　mock　the　righteous！
Job。　Chapter　thirty…eight。　Verse　eleven。
Although　Silas　did　not　recall　the　exact　contents　of　verse　eleven　by　heart；　he　knew　the　Book　of　Job　told　the　story　of　a　man　whose　faith　in　God　survived　repeated　tests。　Appropriate；　he　thought；　barely　able　to　contain　his　excitement。
Looking　over　his　shoulder；　he　gazed　down　the　shimmering　Rose　Line　and　couldn't　help　but　smile。　There　atop　the　main　altar；　propped　open　on　a　gilded　book　stand；　sat　an　enormous　leather…bound　Bible。
　
Up　in　the　balcony；　Sister　Sandrine　was　shaking。　Moments　ago；　she　had　been　about　to　flee　and　carry　out　her　orders；　when　the　man　below　suddenly　removed　his　cloak。　When　she　saw　his　alabaster…white　flesh；　she　was　overe　with　a　horrified　bewilderment。　His　broad；　pale　back　was　soaked　with　blood…red　slashes。　Even　from　here　she　could　see　the　wounds　were　fresh。
This　man　has　been　mercilessly　whipped！
She　also　saw　the　bloody　cilice　around　his　thigh；　the　wound　beneath　it　dripping。　What　kind　of　God　would　want　a　body　punished　this　way？　The　rituals　of　Opus　Dei；　Sister　Sandrine　knew；　were　not　something　she　would　ever　understand。　But　that　was　hardly　her　concern　at　this　instant。　Opus　Dei　is　searching　for　the　keystone。　How　they　knew　of　it；　Sister　Sandrine　could　not　imagine；　although　she　knew　she　did　not　have　time　to　think。
The　bloody　monk　was　now　quietly　donning　his　cloak　again；　clutching　his　prize　as　he　moved　toward　the　altar；　toward　the　Bible。
In　breathless　silence；　Sister　Sandrine　left　the　balcony　and　raced　down　the　hall　to　her　quarters。　Getting　on　her　hands　and　knees；　she　reached　beneath　her　wooden　bed　frame　and　retrieved　the　sealed　envelope　she　had　hidden　there　years　ago。
Tearing　it　open；　she　found　four　Paris　phone　numbers。
Trembling；　she　began　to　dial。
　
Downstairs；　Silas　laid　the　stone　tablet　on　the　altar　and　turned　his　eager　hands　to　the　leather　Bible。　His　long　white　fingers　were　sweating　now　as　he　turned　the　pages。　Flipping　through　the　Old　Testament；　he　found　the　Book　of　Job。　He　located　chapter　thirty…eight。　As　he　ran　his　finger　down　the　column　of　text；　he　anticipated　the　words　he　was　about　to　read。
They　will　lead　the　way！
Finding　verse　number　eleven；　Silas　read　the　text。　It　was　only　seven　words。　Confused；　he　read　it　again；　sensing　something　had　gone　terribly　wrong。　The　verse　simply　read：
HITHERTO　SHALT　THOU　E；　BUT　NO　FURTHER。
　
CHAPTER　30

Security　warden　Claude　Grouard　simmered　with　rage　as　he　stood　over　his　prostrate　captive　in　front　of　the　Mona　Lisa。　This　bastard　killed　Jacques　Saunière！　Saunière　had　been　like　a　well…loved　father　to　Grouard　and　his　security　team。
Grouard　wanted　nothing　more　than　to　pull　the　trigger　and　bury　a　bullet　in　Robert　Langdon's　back。　As　senior　warden；　Grouard　was　one　of　the　few　guards　who　actually　carried　a　loaded　weapon。　He　reminded　himself；　however；　that　killing　Langdon　would　be　a　generous　fate　pared　to　the　misery　about　to　be　municated　by　Bezu　Fache　and　the　French　prison　system。
Grouard　yanked　his　walkie…talkie　off　his　belt　and　attempted　to　radio　for　backup。　All　he　heard　was　static。　The　additional　electronic　security　in　this　chamber　always　wrought　havoc　with　the　guards'　munications。　I　have　to　move　to　the　doorway。　Still　aiming　his　weapon　at　Langdon；　Grouard　began　backing　slowly　toward　the　entrance。　On　his　third　step；　he　spied　something　that　made　him　stop　short。
What　the　hell　is　that！
An　inexplicable　mirage　was　materializing　near　the　center　of　the　room。　A　silhouette。　There　was　someone　else　in　the　room？　A