That evening after supper, Carl and Alexandra were sitting by the clump3 of castor beans in the middle of the flower garden. The gravel4 paths glittered in the moonlight, and below them the fields lay white and still.
“Do you know, Alexandra,” he was saying, “I’ve been thinking how strangely things work out. I’ve been away engraving5 other men’s pictures, and you’ve stayed at home and made your own.” He pointed6 with his cigar toward the sleeping landscape. “How in the world have you done it? How have your neighbors done it?”
“We hadn’t any of us much to do with it, Carl. The land did it. It had its little joke. It pretended to be poor because nobody knew how to work it right; and then, all at once, it worked itself. It woke up out of its sleep and stretched itself, and it was so big, so rich, that we suddenly found we were rich, just from sitting still. As for me, you remember when I began to buy land. For years after that I was always squeezing and borrowing until I was ashamed to show my face in the banks. And then, all at once, men began to come to me offering to lend me money — and I didn’t need it! Then I went ahead and built this house. I really built it for Emil. I want you to see Emil, Carl. He is so different from the rest of us!”
“How different?”
“Oh, you’ll see! I’m sure it was to have sons like Emil, and to give them a chance, that father left the old country. It’s curious, too; on the outside Emil is just like an American boy, — he graduated from the State University in June, you know, — but underneath7 he is more Swedish than any of us. Sometimes he is so like father that he frightens me; he is so violent in his feelings like that.”
“Is he going to farm here with you?”
“He shall do whatever he wants to,” Alexandra declared warmly. “He is going to have a chance, a whole chance; that’s what I’ve worked for. Sometimes he talks about studying law, and sometimes, just lately, he’s been talking about going out into the sand hills and taking up more land. He has his sad times, like father. But I hope he won’t do that. We have land enough, at last!” Alexandra laughed.
“How about Lou and Oscar? They’ve done well, haven’t they?”
“Yes, very well; but they are different, and now that they have farms of their own I do not see so much of them. We divided the land equally when Lou married. They have their own way of doing things, and they do not altogether like my way, I am afraid. Perhaps they think me too independent. But I have had to think for myself a good many years and am not likely to change. On the whole, though, we take as much comfort in each other as most brothers and sisters do. And I am very fond of Lou’s oldest daughter.”
“I think I liked the old Lou and Oscar better, and they probably feel the same about me. I even, if you can keep a secret,” — Carl leaned forward and touched her arm, smiling, — “I even think I liked the old country better. This is all very splendid in its way, but there was something about this country when it was a wild old beast that has haunted me all these years. Now, when I come back to all this milk and honey, I feel like the old German song, ‘Wo bist du, wo bist du, mein geliebtest Land?’ — Do you ever feel like that, I wonder?”
“Yes, sometimes, when I think about father and mother and those who are gone; so many of our old neighbors.” Alexandra paused and looked up thoughtfully at the stars. “We can remember the graveyard8 when it was wild prairie, Carl, and now — ”
“And now the old story has begun to write itself over there,” said Carl softly. “Isn’t it queer: there are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before; like the larks9 in this country, that have been singing the same five notes over for thousands of years.”
“Oh, yes! The young people, they live so hard. And yet I sometimes envy them. There is my little neighbor, now; the people who bought your old place. I wouldn’t have sold it to any one else, but I was always fond of that girl. You must remember her, little Marie Tovesky, from Omaha, who used to visit here? When she was eighteen she ran away from the convent school and got married, crazy child! She came out here a bride, with her father and husband. He had nothing, and the old man was willing to buy them a place and set them up. Your farm took her fancy, and I was glad to have her so near me. I’ve never been sorry, either. I even try to get along with Frank on her account.”
“Is Frank her husband?”
“Yes. He’s one of these wild fellows. Most Bohemians are good-natured, but Frank thinks we don’t appreciate him here, I guess. He’s jealous about everything, his farm and his horses and his pretty wife. Everybody likes her, just the same as when she was little. Sometimes I go up to the Catholic church with Emil, and it’s funny to see Marie standing10 there laughing and shaking hands with people, looking so excited and gay, with Frank sulking behind her as if he could eat everybody alive. Frank’s not a bad neighbor, but to get on with him you’ve got to make a fuss over him and act as if you thought he was a very important person all the time, and different from other people. I find it hard to keep that up from one year’s end to another.”
“I shouldn’t think you’d be very successful at that kind of thing, Alexandra.” Carl seemed to find the idea amusing.
“Well,” said Alexandra firmly, “I do the best I can, on Marie’s account. She has it hard enough, anyway. She’s too young and pretty for this sort of life. We’re all ever so much older and slower. But she’s the kind that won’t be downed easily. She’ll work all day and go to a Bohemian wedding and dance all night, and drive the hay wagon11 for a cross man next morning. I could stay by a job, but I never had the go in me that she has, when I was going my best. I’ll have to take you over to see her tomorrow.”
Carl dropped the end of his cigar softly among the castor beans and sighed. “Yes, I suppose I must see the old place. I’m cowardly about things that remind me of myself. It took courage to come at all, Alexandra. I wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t wanted to see you very, very much.”
Alexandra looked at him with her calm, deliberate eyes. “Why do you dread12 things like that, Carl?” she asked earnestly. “Why are you dissatisfied with yourself?”
Her visitor winced13. “How direct you are, Alexandra! Just like you used to be. Do I give myself away so quickly? Well, you see, for one thing, there’s nothing to look forward to in my profession. Wood-engraving is the only thing I care about, and that had gone out before I began. Everything’s cheap metal work nowadays, touching14 up miserable15 photographs, forcing up poor drawings, and spoiling good ones. I’m absolutely sick of it all.” Carl frowned. “Alexandra, all the way out from New York I’ve been planning how I could deceive you and make you think me a very enviable fellow, and here I am telling you the truth the first night. I waste a lot of time pretending to people, and the joke of it is, I don’t think I ever deceive any one. There are too many of my kind; people know us on sight.”
Carl paused. Alexandra pushed her hair back from her brow with a puzzled, thoughtful gesture. “You see,” he went on calmly, “measured by your standards here, I’m a failure. I couldn’t buy even one of your cornfields. I’ve enjoyed a great many things, but I’ve got nothing to show for it all.”
“But you show for it yourself, Carl. I’d rather have had your freedom than my land.”
Carl shook his head mournfully. “Freedom so often means that one isn’t needed anywhere. Here you are an individual, you have a background of your own, you would be missed. But off there in the cities there are thousands of rolling stones like me. We are all alike; we have no ties, we know nobody, we own nothing. When one of us dies, they scarcely know where to bury him. Our landlady16 and the delicatessen man are our mourners, and we leave nothing behind us but a frock-coat and a fiddle17, or an easel, or a typewriter, or whatever tool we got our living by. All we have ever managed to do is to pay our rent, the exorbitant18 rent that one has to pay for a few square feet of space near the heart of things. We have no house, no place, no people of our own. We live in the streets, in the parks, in the theatres. We sit in restaurants and concert halls and look about at the hundreds of our own kind and shudder19.”
Alexandra was silent. She sat looking at the silver spot the moon made on the surface of the pond down in the pasture. He knew that she understood what he meant. At last she said slowly, “And yet I would rather have Emil grow up like that than like his two brothers. We pay a high rent, too, though we pay differently. We grow hard and heavy here. We don’t move lightly and easily as you do, and our minds get stiff. If the world were no wider than my cornfields, if there were not something beside this, I wouldn’t feel that it was much worth while to work. No, I would rather have Emil like you than like them. I felt that as soon as you came.”
“I wonder why you feel like that?” Carl mused20.
“I don’t know. Perhaps I am like Carrie Jensen, the sister of one of my hired men. She had never been out of the cornfields, and a few years ago she got despondent21 and said life was just the same thing over and over, and she didn’t see the use of it. After she had tried to kill herself once or twice, her folks got worried and sent her over to Iowa to visit some relations. Ever since she’s come back she’s been perfectly22 cheerful, and she says she’s contented23 to live and work in a world that’s so big and interesting. She said that anything as big as the bridges over the Platte and the Missouri reconciled her. And it’s what goes on in the world that reconciles me.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
relentless
|
|
| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
clump
|
|
| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
gravel
|
|
| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
engraving
|
|
| n.版画；雕刻（作品）；雕刻艺术；镌版术v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的现在分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
underneath
|
|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
graveyard
|
|
| n.坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
larks
|
|
| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
wagon
|
|
| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
winced
|
|
| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
landlady
|
|
| n.女房东，女地主 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
fiddle
|
|
| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
exorbitant
|
|
| adj.过分的；过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
mused
|
|
| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
despondent
|
|
| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |