The shirt collar, cut low in the neck, the big bow of his cravat4, the style of his clothing, from the round hat to the varnished5 shoes, suggested an idea of French elegance6; but otherwise he was the very type of a fair Spanish creole. The fluffy7 moustache and the short, curly, golden beard did not conceal8 his lips, rosy9, fresh, almost pouting10 in expression. His full, round face was of that warm, healthy creole white which is never tanned by its native sunshine. Martin Decoud was seldom exposed to the Costaguana sun under which he was born. His people had been long settled in Paris, where he had studied law, had dabbled11 in literature, had hoped now and then in moments of exaltation to become a poet like that other foreigner of Spanish blood, Jose Maria Heredia. In other moments he had, to pass the time, condescended12 to write articles on European affairs for the Semenario, the principal newspaper in Sta. Marta, which printed them under the heading “From our special correspondent,” though the authorship was an open secret. Everybody in Costaguana, where the tale of compatriots in Europe is jealously kept, knew that it was “the son Decoud,” a talented young man, supposed to be moving in the higher spheres of Society. As a matter of fact, he was an idle boulevardier, in touch with some smart journalists, made free of a few newspaper offices, and welcomed in the pleasure haunts of pressmen. This life, whose dreary14 superficiality is covered by the glitter of universal blague, like the stupid clowning of a harlequin by the spangles of a motley costume, induced in him a Frenchified — but most un-French — cosmopolitanism15, in reality a mere16 barren indifferentism posing as intellectual superiority. Of his own country he used to say to his French associates: “Imagine an atmosphere of opera-bouffe in which all the comic business of stage statesmen, brigands17, etc., etc., all their farcical stealing, intriguing18, and stabbing is done in dead earnest. It is screamingly funny, the blood flows all the time, and the actors believe themselves to be influencing the fate of the universe. Of course, government in general, any government anywhere, is a thing of exquisite19 comicality to a discerning mind; but really we Spanish-Americans do overstep the bounds. No man of ordinary intelligence can take part in the intrigues20 of une farce21 macabre22. However, these Ribierists, of whom we hear so much just now, are really trying in their own comical way to make the country habitable, and even to pay some of its debts. My friends, you had better write up Senor Ribiera all you can in kindness to your own bondholders. Really, if what I am told in my letters is true, there is some chance for them at last.”
And he would explain with railing verve what Don Vincente Ribiera stood for — a mournful little man oppressed by his own good intentions, the significance of battles won, who Montero was (un grotesque23 vaniteux et feroce), and the manner of the new loan connected with railway development, and the colonization24 of vast tracts25 of land in one great financial scheme.
And his French friends would remark that evidently this little fellow Decoud connaissait la question a fond. An important Parisian review asked him for an article on the situation. It was composed in a serious tone and in a spirit of levity26. Afterwards he asked one of his intimates —
“Have you read my thing about the regeneration of Costaguana — une bonne blague, hein?”
He imagined himself Parisian to the tips of his fingers. But far from being that he was in danger of remaining a sort of nondescript dilettante27 all his life. He had pushed the habit of universal raillery to a point where it blinded him to the genuine impulses of his own nature. To be suddenly selected for the executive member of the patriotic28 small-arms committee of Sulaco seemed to him the height of the unexpected, one of those fantastic moves of which only his “dear countrymen” were capable.
“It’s like a tile falling on my head. I— I— executive member! It’s the first I hear of it! What do I know of military rifles? C’est funambulesque!” he had exclaimed to his favourite sister; for the Decoud family — except the old father and mother — used the French language amongst themselves. “And you should see the explanatory and confidential29 letter! Eight pages of it — no less!”
This letter, in Antonia’s handwriting, was signed by Don Jose, who appealed to the “young and gifted Costaguanero” on public grounds, and privately30 opened his heart to his talented god-son, a man of wealth and leisure, with wide relations, and by his parentage and bringing-up worthy31 of all confidence.
“Which means,” Martin commented, cynically32, to his sister, “that I am not likely to misappropriate the funds, or go blabbing to our Charge d’Affaires here.”
The whole thing was being carried out behind the back of the War Minister, Montero, a mistrusted member of the Ribiera Government, but difficult to get rid of at once. He was not to know anything of it till the troops under Barrios’s command had the new rifle in their hands. The President-Dictator, whose position was very difficult, was alone in the secret.
“How funny!” commented Martin’s sister and confidante; to which the brother, with an air of best Parisian blague, had retorted:
“It’s immense! The idea of that Chief of the State engaged, with the help of private citizens, in digging a mine under his own indispensable War Minister. No! We are unapproachable!” And he laughed immoderately.
Afterwards his sister was surprised at the earnestness and ability he displayed in carrying out his mission, which circumstances made delicate, and his want of special knowledge rendered difficult. She had never seen Martin take so much trouble about anything in his whole life.
“It amuses me,” he had explained, briefly33. “I am beset34 by a lot of swindlers trying to sell all sorts of gaspipe weapons. They are charming; they invite me to expensive luncheons35; I keep up their hopes; it’s extremely entertaining. Meanwhile, the real affair is being carried through in quite another quarter.”
When the business was concluded he declared suddenly his intention of seeing the precious consignment36 delivered safely in Sulaco. The whole burlesque37 business, he thought, was worth following up to the end. He mumbled38 his excuses, tugging39 at his golden beard, before the acute young lady who (after the first wide stare of astonishment) looked at him with narrowed eyes, and pronounced slowly —
“I believe you want to see Antonia.”
“What Antonia?” asked the Costaguana boulevardier, in a vexed40 and disdainful tone. He shrugged41 his shoulders, and spun42 round on his heel. His sister called out after him joyously43 —
“The Antonia you used to know when she wore her hair in two plaits down her back.”
He had known her some eight years since, shortly before the Avellanos had left Europe for good, as a tall girl of sixteen, youthfully austere44, and of a character already so formed that she ventured to treat slightingly his pose of disabused45 wisdom. On one occasion, as though she had lost all patience, she flew out at him about the aimlessness of his life and the levity of his opinions. He was twenty then, an only son, spoiled by his adoring family. This attack disconcerted him so greatly that he had faltered46 in his affectation of amused superiority before that insignificant47 chit of a school-girl. But the impression left was so strong that ever since all the girl friends of his sisters recalled to him Antonia Avellanos by some faint resemblance, or by the great force of contrast. It was, he told himself, like a ridiculous fatality48. And, of course, in the news the Decouds received regularly from Costaguana, the name of their friends, the Avellanos, cropped up frequently — the arrest and the abominable49 treatment of the ex-Minister, the dangers and hardships endured by the family, its withdrawal50 in poverty to Sulaco, the death of the mother.
The Monterist pronunciamento had taken place before Martin Decoud reached Costaguana. He came out in a roundabout way, through Magellan’s Straits by the main line and the West Coast Service of the O.S.N. Company. His precious consignment arrived just in time to convert the first feelings of consternation51 into a mood of hope and resolution. Publicly he was made much of by the familias principales. Privately Don Jose, still shaken and weak, embraced him with tears in his eyes.
“You have come out yourself! No less could be expected from a Decoud. Alas52! our worst fears have been realized,” he moaned, affectionately. And again he hugged his god-son. This was indeed the time for men of intellect and conscience to rally round the endangered cause.
It was then that Martin Decoud, the adopted child of Western Europe, felt the absolute change of atmosphere. He submitted to being embraced and talked to without a word. He was moved in spite of himself by that note of passion and sorrow unknown on the more refined stage of European politics. But when the tall Antonia, advancing with her light step in the dimness of the big bare Sala of the Avellanos house, offered him her hand (in her emancipated53 way), and murmured, “I am glad to see you here, Don Martin,” he felt how impossible it would be to tell these two people that he had intended to go away by the next month’s packet. Don Jose, meantime, continued his praises. Every accession added to public confidence, and, besides, what an example to the young men at home from the brilliant defender54 of the country’s regeneration, the worthy expounder55 of the party’s political faith before the world! Everybody had read the magnificent article in the famous Parisian Review. The world was now informed: and the author’s appearance at this moment was like a public act of faith. Young Decoud felt overcome by a feeling of impatient confusion. His plan had been to return by way of the United States through California, visit Yellowstone Park, see Chicago, Niagara, have a look at Canada, perhaps make a short stay in New York, a longer one in Newport, use his letters of introduction. The pressure of Antonia’s hand was so frank, the tone of her voice was so unexpectedly unchanged in its approving warmth, that all he found to say after his low bow was —
“I am inexpressibly grateful for your welcome; but why need a man be thanked for returning to his native country? I am sure Dona Antonia does not think so.”
“Certainly not, senor,” she said, with that perfectly56 calm openness of manner which characterized all her utterances57. “But when he returns, as you return, one may be glad — for the sake of both.”
Martin Decoud said nothing of his plans. He not only never breathed a word of them to any one, but only a fortnight later asked the mistress of the Casa Gould (where he had of course obtained admission at once), leaning forward in his chair with an air of well-bred familiarity, whether she could not detect in him that day a marked change — an air, he explained, of more excellent gravity. At this Mrs. Gould turned her face full towards him with the silent inquiry58 of slightly widened eyes and the merest ghost of a smile, an habitual59 movement with her, which was very fascinating to men by something subtly devoted60, finely self-forgetful in its lively readiness of attention. Because, Decoud continued imperturbably61, he felt no longer an idle cumberer of the earth. She was, he assured her, actually beholding62 at that moment the Journalist of Sulaco. At once Mrs. Gould glanced towards Antonia, posed upright in the corner of a high, straight-backed Spanish sofa, a large black fan waving slowly against the curves of her fine figure, the tips of crossed feet peeping from under the hem13 of the black skirt. Decoud’s eyes also remained fixed63 there, while in an undertone he added that Miss Avellanos was quite aware of his new and unexpected vocation64, which in Costaguana was generally the speciality of half-educated negroes and wholly penniless lawyers. Then, confronting with a sort of urbane65 effrontery66 Mrs. Gould’s gaze, now turned sympathetically upon himself, he breathed out the words, “Pro Patria!”
What had happened was that he had all at once yielded to Don Jose’s pressing entreaties67 to take the direction of a newspaper that would “voice the aspirations68 of the province.” It had been Don Jose’s old and cherished idea. The necessary plant (on a modest scale) and a large consignment of paper had been received from America some time before; the right man alone was wanted. Even Senor Moraga in Sta. Marta had not been able to find one, and the matter was now becoming pressing; some organ was absolutely needed to counteract69 the effect of the lies disseminated70 by the Monterist press: the atrocious calumnies71, the appeals to the people calling upon them to rise with their knives in their hands and put an end once for all to the Blancos, to these Gothic remnants, to these sinister72 mummies, these impotent paraliticos, who plotted with foreigners for the surrender of the lands and the slavery of the people.
The clamour of this Negro Liberalism frightened Senor Avellanos. A newspaper was the only remedy. And now that the right man had been found in Decoud, great black letters appeared painted between the windows above the arcaded73 ground floor of a house on the Plaza74. It was next to Anzani’s great emporium of boots, silks, ironware, muslins, wooden toys, tiny silver arms, legs, heads, hearts (for ex-voto offerings), rosaries, champagne75, women’s hats, patent medicines, even a few dusty books in paper covers and mostly in the French language. The big black letters formed the words, “Offices of the Porvenir.” From these offices a single folded sheet of Martin’s journalism76 issued three times a week; and the sleek77 yellow Anzani prowling in a suit of ample black and carpet slippers78, before the many doors of his establishment, greeted by a deep, side-long inclination79 of his body the Journalist of Sulaco going to and fro on the business of his august calling.
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1
negligently
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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dabbled
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| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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cosmopolitanism
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| n. 世界性,世界主义 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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intriguing
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| adj.有趣的；迷人的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的现在分词)；激起…的好奇心 | |
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19
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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macabre
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| adj.骇人的，可怖的 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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colonization
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| 殖民地的开拓，殖民，殖民地化； 移殖 | |
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tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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luncheons
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| n.午餐，午宴( luncheon的名词复数 ) | |
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consignment
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| n.寄售；发货；委托；交运货物 | |
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burlesque
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| v.嘲弄，戏仿；n.嘲弄，取笑，滑稽模仿 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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40
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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41
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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42
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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43
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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45
disabused
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| v.去除…的错误想法( disabuse的过去式和过去分词 )；使醒悟 | |
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46
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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47
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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48
fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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49
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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50
withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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51
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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52
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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53
emancipated
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| adj.被解放的，不受约束的v.解放某人（尤指摆脱政治、法律或社会的束缚）( emancipate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
defender
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| n.保卫者，拥护者，辩护人 | |
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55
expounder
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| 陈述者，说明者 | |
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56
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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57
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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58
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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61
imperturbably
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| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
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62
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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63
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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64
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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urbane
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| adj.温文尔雅的，懂礼的 | |
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effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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69
counteract
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| vt.对…起反作用，对抗，抵消 | |
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70
disseminated
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| 散布，传播( disseminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
calumnies
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| n.诬蔑，诽谤，中伤（的话）( calumny的名词复数 ) | |
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72
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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73
arcaded
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| adj.成为拱廊街道的，有列拱的 | |
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74
plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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75
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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76
journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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77
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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78
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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