达芬奇密码 作者: 美 丹·布朗(英文版)-第28部分

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The　Rose　Line；　Silas　thought。　The　brotherhood　hid　the　keystone　at　the　Rose　Line。
Earlier　tonight；　when　Silas　told　the　Teacher　that　the　Priory　keystone　was　hidden　inside　Saint…Sulpice；　the　Teacher　had　sounded　doubtful。　But　when　Silas　added　that　the　brothers　had　all　given　him　a　precise　location；　with　relation　to　a　brass　line　running　through　Saint…Sulpice；　the　Teacher　had　gasped　with　revelation。　〃You　speak　of　the　Rose　Line！〃
The　Teacher　quickly　told　Silas　of　Saint…Sulpice's　famed　architectural　oddity—a　strip　of　brass　that　segmented　the　sanctuary　on　a　perfect　north…south　axis。　It　was　an　ancient　sundial　of　sorts；　a　vestige　of　the　pagan　temple　that　had　once　stood　on　this　very　spot。　The　sun's　rays；　shining　through　the　oculus　on　the　south　wall；　moved　farther　down　the　line　every　day；　indicating　the　passage　of　time；　from　solstice　to　solstice。
The　north…south　stripe　had　been　known　as　the　Rose　Line。　For　centuries；　the　symbol　of　the　Rose　had　been　associated　with　maps　and　guiding　souls　in　the　proper　direction。　The　pass　Rose—drawn　on　almost　every　map—indicated　North；　East；　South；　and　West。　Originally　known　as　the　Wind　Rose；　it　denoted　the　directions　of　the　thirty…two　winds；　blowing　from　the　directions　of　eight　major　winds；　eight　half…winds；　and　sixteen　quarter…winds。　When　diagrammed　inside　a　circle；　these　thirty…two　points　of　the　pass　perfectly　resembled　a　traditional　thirty…two　petal　rose　bloom。　To　this　day；　the　fundamental　navigational　tool　was　still　known　as　a　pass　Rose；　its　northernmost　direction　still　marked　by　an　arrowhead。。。　or；　more　monly；　the　symbol　of　the　fleur…de…lis。
On　a　globe；　a　Rose　Line—also　called　a　meridian　or　longitude—was　any　imaginary　line　drawn　from　the　North　Pole　to　the　South　Pole。　There　were；　of　course；　an　infinite　number　of　Rose　Lines　because　every　point　on　the　globe　could　have　a　longitude　drawn　through　it　connecting　north　and　south　poles。　The　question　for　early　navigators　was　which　of　these　lines　would　be　called　the　Rose　Line—the　zero　longitude—the　line　from　which　all　other　longitudes　on　earth　would　be　measured。
Today　that　line　was　in　Greenwich；　England。
But　it　had　not　always　been。
Long　before　the　establishment　of　Greenwich　as　the　prime　meridian；　the　zero　longitude　of　the　entire　world　had　passed　directly　through　Paris；　and　through　the　Church　of　Saint…Sulpice。　The　brass　marker　in　Saint…Sulpice　was　a　memorial　to　the　world's　first　prime　meridian；　and　although　Greenwich　had　stripped　Paris　of　the　honor　in　1888；　the　original　Rose　Line　was　still　visible　today。
〃And　so　the　legend　is　true；〃　the　Teacher　had　told　Silas。　〃The　Priory　keystone　has　been　said　to　lie　'beneath　the　Sign　of　the　Rose。'　〃
Now；　still　on　his　knees　in　a　pew；　Silas　glanced　around　the　church　and　listened　to　make　sure　no　one　was　there。　For　a　moment；　he　thought　he　heard　a　rustling　in　the　choir　balcony。　He　turned　and　gazed　up　for　several　seconds。　Nothing。
I　am　alone。
Standing　now；　he　faced　the　altar　and　genuflected　three　times。　Then　he　turned　left　and　followed　the　brass　line　due　north　toward　the　obelisk。
　
At　that　moment；　at　Leonardo　da　Vinci　International　Airport　in　Rome；　the　jolt　of　tires　hitting　the　runway　startled　Bishop　Aringarosa　from　his　slumber。
I　drifted　off；　he　thought；　impressed　he　was　relaxed　enough　to　sleep。
〃Benvenuto　a　Roma；〃　the　inter　announced。
Sitting　up；　Aringarosa　straightened　his　black　cassock　and　allowed　himself　a　rare　smile。　This　was　one　trip　he　had　been　happy　to　make。　I　have　been　on　the　defensive　for　too　long。　Tonight；　however；　the　rules　had　changed。　Only　five　months　ago；　Aringarosa　had　feared　for　the　future　of　the　Faith。　Now；　as　if　by　the　will　of　God；　the　solution　had　presented　itself。
Divine　intervention。
If　all　went　as　planned　tonight　in　Paris；　Aringarosa　would　soon　be　in　possession　of　something　that　would　make　him　the　most　powerful　man　in　Christendom。
　
CHAPTER　23

Sophie　arrived　breathless　outside　the　large　wooden　doors　of　the　Salle　des　Etats—the　room　that　housed　the　Mona　Lisa。　Before　entering；　she　gazed　reluctantly　farther　down　the　hall；　twenty　yards　or　so；　to　the　spot　where　her　grandfather's　body　still　lay　under　the　spotlight。
The　remorse　that　gripped　her　was　powerful　and　sudden；　a　deep　sadness　laced　with　guilt。　The　man　had　reached　out　to　her　so　many　times　over　the　past　ten　years；　and　yet　Sophie　had　remained　immovable—leaving　his　letters　and　packages　unopened　in　a　bottom　drawer　and　denying　his　efforts　to　see　her。　He　lied　to　me！　Kept　appalling　secrets！　What　was　I　supposed　to　do？　And　so　she　had　blocked　him　out。　pletely。
Now　her　grandfather　was　dead；　and　he　was　talking　to　her　from　the　grave。
The　Mona　Lisa。
She　reached　for　the　huge　wooden　doors；　and　pushed。　The　entryway　yawned　open。　Sophie　stood　on　the　threshold　a　moment；　scanning　the　large　rectangular　chamber　beyond。　It　too　was　bathed　in　a　soft　red　light。　The　Salle　des　Etats　was　one　of　this　museum's　rare　culs…de…sac—a　dead　end　and　the　only　room　off　the　middle　of　the　Grand　Gallery。　This　door；　the　chamber's　sole　point　of　entry；　faced　a　dominating　fifteen…foot　Botticelli　on　the　far　wall。　Beneath　it；　centered　on　the　parquet　floor；　an　immense　octagonal　viewing　divan　served　as　a　wele　respite　for　thousands　of　visitors　to　rest　their　legs　while　they　admired　the　Louvre's　most　valuable　asset。
Even　before　Sophie　entered；　though；　she　knew　she　was　missing　something。　A　black　light。　She　gazed　down　the　hall　at　her　grandfather　under　the　lights　in　the　distance；　surrounded　by　electronic　gear。　If　he　had　written　anything　in　here；　he　almost　certainly　would　have　written　it　with　the　watermark　stylus。
Taking　a　deep　breath；　Sophie　hurried　down　to　the　well…lit　crime　scene。　Unable　to　look　at　her　grandfather；　she　focused　solely　on　the　PTS　tools。　Finding　a　small　ultraviolet　penlight；　she　slipped　it　in　the　pocket　of　her　sweater　and　hurried　back　up　the　hallway　toward　the　open　doors　of　the　Salle　des　Etats。
Sophie　turned　the　corner　and　stepped　over　the　threshold。　Her　entrance；　however；　was　met　by　an　unexpected　sound　of　muffled　footsteps　racing　toward　her　from　inside　the　chamber。　There's　someone　in　here！　A　ghostly　figure　emerged　suddenly　from　out　of　the　reddish　haze。　Sophie　jumped　back。
〃There　you　are！〃　Langdon's　hoarse　whisper　cut　the　air　as　his　silhouette　slid　to　a　stop　in　front　of　her。
Her　relief　was　only　momentary。　〃Robert；　I　told　you　to　get　out　of　here！　If　Fache—〃
〃Where　were　you？〃
〃I　had　to　get　the　black　light；〃　she　whispered；　holding　it　up。　〃If　my　grandfather　left　me　a　message—〃
〃Sophie；　listen。〃　Langdon　caught　his　breath　as　his　blue　eyes　held　her　firmly。　〃The　letters　P。S。。。。　do　they　mean　anything　else　to　you？　Anything　at　all？〃
Afraid　their　voices　might　echo　down　the　hall；　Sophie　pulled　him　into　the　Salle　des　Etats　and　closed　the　enormous　twin　doors　silently；　sealing　them　inside。　〃I　told　you；　the　initials　mean　Princess　Sophie。〃
〃I　know；　but　did　you　ever　see　them　anywhere　else？　Did　your　grandfather　ever　use　P。S。　in　any　other　way？　As　a　monogram；　or　maybe　on　stationery　or　a　personal　item？〃
The　question　startled　her。　How　would　Robert　know　that？　Sophie　had　indeed　seen　the　initials　P。S。　once　before；　in　a　kind　of　monogram。　It　was　the　day　before　her　ninth　birthday。　She　was　secretly　bing　the　house；　searching　for　hidden　birthday　presents。　Even　then；　she　could　not　bear　secrets　ke