“By God! if I have that young feller in de hayfield once, I show him someting. Listen here what he do wit his money.” And Frank began the catalogue of the young man’s reputed extravagances.
Marie sighed. She thought it hard that the Goulds, for whom she had nothing but good will, should make her so much trouble. She hated to see the Sunday newspapers come into the house. Frank was always reading about the doings of rich people and feeling outraged4. He had an inexhaustible stock of stories about their crimes and follies5, how they bribed6 the courts and shot down their butlers with impunity7 whenever they chose. Frank and Lou Bergson had very similar ideas, and they were two of the political agitators8 of the county.
The next morning broke clear and brilliant, but Frank said the ground was too wet to plough, so he took the cart and drove over to Sainte–Agnes to spend the day at Moses Marcel’s saloon. After he was gone, Marie went out to the back porch to begin her butter-making. A brisk wind had come up and was driving puffy white clouds across the sky. The orchard9 was sparkling and rippling10 in the sun. Marie stood looking toward it wistfully, her hand on the lid of the churn, when she heard a sharp ring in the air, the merry sound of the whetstone on the scythe11. That invitation decided12 her. She ran into the house, put on a short skirt and a pair of her husband’s boots, caught up a tin pail and started for the orchard. Emil had already begun work and was mowing14 vigorously. When he saw her coming, he stopped and wiped his brow. His yellow canvas leggings and khaki trousers were splashed to the knees.
“Don’t let me disturb you, Emil. I’m going to pick cherries. Isn’t everything beautiful after the rain? Oh, but I’m glad to get this place mowed15! When I heard it raining in the night, I thought maybe you would come and do it for me today. The wind wakened me. Didn’t it blow dreadfully? Just smell the wild roses! They are always so spicy16 after a rain. We never had so many of them in here before. I suppose it’s the wet season. Will you have to cut them, too?”
“If I cut the grass, I will,” Emil said teasingly. “What’s the matter with you? What makes you so flighty?”
“Am I flighty? I suppose that’s the wet season, too, then. It’s exciting to see everything growing so fast, — and to get the grass cut! Please leave the roses till last, if you must cut them. Oh, I don’t mean all of them, I mean that low place down by my tree, where there are so many. Aren’t you splashed! Look at the spider-webs all over the grass. Good-bye. I’ll call you if I see a snake.”
She tripped away and Emil stood looking after her. In a few moments he heard the cherries dropping smartly into the pail, and he began to swing his scythe with that long, even stroke that few American boys ever learn. Marie picked cherries and sang softly to herself, stripping one glittering branch after another, shivering when she caught a shower of raindrops on her neck and hair. And Emil mowed his way slowly down toward the cherry trees.
That summer the rains had been so many and opportune17 that it was almost more than Shabata and his man could do to keep up with the corn; the orchard was a neglected wilderness18. All sorts of weeds and herbs and flowers had grown up there; splotches of wild larkspur, pale green-and-white spikes19 of hoarhound, plantations20 of wild cotton, tangles21 of foxtail and wild wheat. South of the apricot trees, cornering on the wheatfield, was Frank’s alfalfa, where myriads22 of white and yellow butterflies were always fluttering above the purple blossoms. When Emil reached the lower corner by the hedge, Marie was sitting under her white mulberry tree, the pailful of cherries beside her, looking off at the gentle, tireless swelling23 of the wheat.
“Emil,” she said suddenly — he was mowing quietly about under the tree so as not to disturb her — “what religion did the Swedes have away back, before they were Christians24?”
Emil paused and straightened his back. “I don’t know. About like the Germans’, wasn’t it?”
Marie went on as if she had not heard him. “The Bohemians, you know, were tree worshipers before the missionaries25 came. Father says the people in the mountains still do queer things, sometimes, — they believe that trees bring good or bad luck.”
Emil looked superior. “Do they? Well, which are the lucky trees? I’d like to know.”
“I don’t know all of them, but I know lindens are. The old people in the mountains plant lindens to purify the forest, and to do away with the spells that come from the old trees they say have lasted from heathen times. I’m a good Catholic, but I think I could get along with caring for trees, if I hadn’t anything else.”
“That’s a poor saying,” said Emil, stooping over to wipe his hands in the wet grass.
“Why is it? If I feel that way, I feel that way. I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do. I feel as if this tree knows everything I ever think of when I sit here. When I come back to it, I never have to remind it of anything; I begin just where I left off.”
Emil had nothing to say to this. He reached up among the branches and began to pick the sweet, insipid26 fruit, — long ivory-colored berries, tipped with faint pink, like white coral, that fall to the ground unheeded all summer through. He dropped a handful into her lap.
“Do you like Mr. Linstrum?” Marie asked suddenly.
“Yes. Don’t you?”
“Oh, ever so much; only he seems kind of staid and school-teachery. But, of course, he is older than Frank, even. I’m sure I don’t want to live to be more than thirty, do you? Do you think Alexandra likes him very much?”
“I suppose so. They were old friends.”
“Oh, Emil, you know what I mean!” Marie tossed her head impatiently. “Does she really care about him? When she used to tell me about him, I always wondered whether she wasn’t a little in love with him.”
“Who, Alexandra?” Emil laughed and thrust his hands into his trousers pockets. “Alexandra’s never been in love, you crazy!” He laughed again. “She wouldn’t know how to go about it. The idea!”
Marie shrugged27 her shoulders. “Oh, you don’t know Alexandra as well as you think you do! If you had any eyes, you would see that she is very fond of him. It would serve you all right if she walked off with Carl. I like him because he appreciates her more than you do.”
Emil frowned. “What are you talking about, Marie? Alexandra’s all right. She and I have always been good friends. What more do you want? I like to talk to Carl about New York and what a fellow can do there.”
“Oh, Emil! Surely you are not thinking of going off there?”
“Why not? I must go somewhere, mustn’t I?” The young man took up his scythe and leaned on it. “Would you rather I went off in the sand hills and lived like Ivar?”
Marie’s face fell under his brooding gaze. She looked down at his wet leggings. “I’m sure Alexandra hopes you will stay on here,” she murmured.
“Then Alexandra will be disappointed,” the young man said roughly. “What do I want to hang around here for? Alexandra can run the farm all right, without me. I don’t want to stand around and look on. I want to be doing something on my own account.”
“That’s so,” Marie sighed. “There are so many, many things you can do. Almost anything you choose.”
“And there are so many, many things I can’t do.” Emil echoed her tone sarcastically28. “Sometimes I don’t want to do anything at all, and sometimes I want to pull the four corners of the Divide together,” — he threw out his arm and brought it back with a jerk, — “so, like a table-cloth. I get tired of seeing men and horses going up and down, up and down.”
Marie looked up at his defiant29 figure and her face clouded. “I wish you weren’t so restless, and didn’t get so worked up over things,” she said sadly.
“Thank you,” he returned shortly.
She sighed despondently30. “Everything I say makes you cross, don’t it? And you never used to be cross to me.”
Emil took a step nearer and stood frowning down at her bent31 head. He stood in an attitude of self-defense, his feet well apart, his hands clenched32 and drawn33 up at his sides, so that the cords stood out on his bare arms. “I can’t play with you like a little boy any more,” he said slowly. “That’s what you miss, Marie. You’ll have to get some other little boy to play with.” He stopped and took a deep breath. Then he went on in a low tone, so intense that it was almost threatening: “Sometimes you seem to understand perfectly34, and then sometimes you pretend you don’t. You don’t help things any by pretending. It’s then that I want to pull the corners of the Divide together. If you WON’T understand, you know, I could make you!”
Marie clasped her hands and started up from her seat. She had grown very pale and her eyes were shining with excitement and distress35. “But, Emil, if I understand, then all our good times are over, we can never do nice things together any more. We shall have to behave like Mr. Linstrum. And, anyhow, there’s nothing to understand!” She struck the ground with her little foot fiercely. “That won’t last. It will go away, and things will be just as they used to. I wish you were a Catholic. The Church helps people, indeed it does. I pray for you, but that’s not the same as if you prayed yourself.”
She spoke36 rapidly and pleadingly, looked entreatingly37 into his face. Emil stood defiant, gazing down at her.
“I can’t pray to have the things I want,” he said slowly, “and I won’t pray not to have them, not if I’m damned for it.”
Marie turned away, wringing38 her hands. “Oh, Emil, you won’t try! Then all our good times are over.”
“Yes; over. I never expect to have any more.”
Emil gripped the hand-holds of his scythe and began to mow13. Marie took up her cherries and went slowly toward the house, crying bitterly.
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1
affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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marital
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| adj.婚姻的，夫妻的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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7
impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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agitators
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| n.（尤指政治变革的）鼓动者( agitator的名词复数 )；煽动者；搅拌器；搅拌机 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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scythe
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| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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12
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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13
mow
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| v.割（草、麦等），扫射，皱眉；n.草堆，谷物堆 | |
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14
mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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15
mowed
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| v.刈，割( mow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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opportune
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| adj.合适的，适当的 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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plantations
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| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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tangles
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| （使）缠结， （使）乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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25
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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26
insipid
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| adj.无味的，枯燥乏味的，单调的 | |
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27
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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29
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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despondently
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| adv.沮丧地，意志消沉地 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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35
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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36
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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entreatingly
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| 哀求地，乞求地 | |
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wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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