Francesca mentally compared her son with hundreds of other young men whom she saw around her, steadily5, and no doubt happily, engaged in the process of transforming themselves from nice boys into useful citizens. Most of them had occupations, or were industriously6 engaged in qualifying for such; in their leisure moments they smoked reasonably-priced cigarettes, went to the cheaper seats at music-halls, watched an occasional cricket match at Lord’s with apparent interest, saw most of the world’s spectacular events through the medium of the cinematograph, and were wont7 to exchange at parting seemingly superfluous8 injunctions to “be good.” The whole of Bond Street and many of the tributary9 thoroughfares of Piccadilly might have been swept off the face of modern London without in any way interfering10 with the supply of their daily wants. They were doubtless dull as acquaintances, but as sons they would have been eminently11 restful. With a growing sense of irritation12 Francesca compared these deserving young men with her own intractable offspring, and wondered why Fate should have singled her out to be the parent of such a vexatious variant13 from a comfortable and desirable type. As far as remunerative14 achievement was concerned, Comus copied the insouciance15 of the field lily with a dangerous fidelity16. Like his mother he looked round with wistful irritation at the example afforded by contemporary youth, but he concentrated his attention exclusively on the richer circles of his acquaintance, young men who bought cars and polo ponies17 as unconcernedly as he might purchase a carnation18 for his buttonhole, and went for trips to Cairo or the Tigris valley with less difficulty and finance-stretching than he encountered in contriving19 a week-end at Brighton.
Gaiety and good-looks had carried Comus successfully and, on the whole, pleasantly, through schooldays and a recurring20 succession of holidays; the same desirable assets were still at his service to advance him along his road, but it was a disconcerting experience to find that they could not be relied on to go all distances at all times. In an animal world, and a fiercely competitive animal world at that, something more was needed than the decorative21 ABANDON of the field lily, and it was just that something more which Comus seemed unable or unwilling22 to provide on his own account; it was just the lack of that something more which left him sulking with Fate over the numerous breakdowns23 and stumbling-blocks that held him up on what he expected to be a triumphal or, at any rate, unimpeded progress.
Francesca was, in her own way, fonder of Comus than of anyone else in the world, and if he had been browning his skin somewhere east of Suez she would probably have kissed his photograph with genuine fervour every night before going to bed; the appearance of a cholera24 scare or rumour25 of native rising in the columns of her daily news-sheet would have caused her a flutter of anxiety, and she would have mentally likened herself to a Spartan26 mother sacrificing her best-beloved on the altar of State necessities. But with the best-beloved installed under her roof, occupying an unreasonable27 amount of cubic space, and demanding daily sacrifices instead of providing the raw material for one, her feelings were tinged29 with irritation rather than affection. She might have forgiven Comus generously for misdeeds of some gravity committed in another continent, but she could never overlook the fact that out of a dish of five plovers’ eggs he was certain to take three. The absent may be always wrong, but they are seldom in a position to be inconsiderate.
Thus a wall of ice had grown up gradually between mother and son, a barrier across which they could hold converse30, but which gave a wintry chill even to the sparkle of their lightest words. The boy had the gift of being irresistibly31 amusing when he chose to exert himself in that direction, and after a long series of moody32 or jangling meal-sittings he would break forth33 into a torrential flow of small talk, scandal and malicious34 anecdote35, true or more generally invented, to which Francesca listened with a relish36 and appreciation37, that was all the more flattering from being so unwillingly38 bestowed39.
“If you chose your friends from a rather more reputable set you would be doubtless less amusing, but there would be compensating40 advantages.”
Francesca snapped the remark out at lunch one day when she had been betrayed into a broader smile than she considered the circumstances of her attitude towards Comus warranted.
“I’m going to move in quite decent society to-night,” replied Comus with a pleased chuckle41; “I’m going to meet you and Uncle Henry and heaps of nice dull God-fearing people at dinner.”
Francesca gave a little gasp42 of surprise and annoyance43.
“You don’t mean to say Caroline has asked you to dinner to-night?” she said; “and of course without telling me. How exceedingly like her!”
Lady Caroline Benaresq had reached that age when you can say and do what you like in defiance44 of people’s most sensitive feelings and most cherished antipathies45. Not that she had waited to attain46 her present age before pursuing that line of conduct; she came of a family whose individual members went through life, from the nursery to the grave, with as much tact47 and consideration as a cactus-hedge might show in going through a crowded bathing tent. It was a compensating mercy that they disagreed rather more among themselves than they did with the outside world; every known variety and shade of religion and politics had been pressed into the family service to avoid the possibility of any agreement on the larger essentials of life, and such unlooked-for happenings as the Home Rule schism48, the Tariff–Reform upheaval49 and the Suffragette crusade were thankfully seized on as furnishing occasion for further differences and sub-divisions. Lady Caroline’s favourite scheme of entertaining was to bring jarring and antagonistic50 elements into close contact and play them remorselessly one against the other. “One gets much better results under those circumstances” she used to observe, “than by asking people who wish to meet each other. Few people talk as brilliantly to impress a friend as they do to depress an enemy.”
She admitted that her theory broke down rather badly if you applied51 it to Parliamentary debates. At her own dinner table its success was usually triumphantly52 vindicated53.
“Who else is to be there?” Francesca asked, with some pardonable misgiving54.
“Courtenay Youghal. He’ll probably sit next to you, so you’d better think out a lot of annihilating55 remarks in readiness. And Elaine de Frey.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of her. Who is she?”
“Nobody in particular, but rather nice-looking in a solemn sort of way, and almost indecently rich.”
“Marry her” was the advice which sprang to Francesca’s lips, but she choked it back with a salted almond, having a rare perception of the fact that words are sometimes given to us to defeat our purposes.
“Caroline has probably marked her down for Toby or one of the grand-nephews,” she said, carelessly; “a little money would be rather useful in that quarter, I imagine.”
Comus tucked in his underlip with just the shade of pugnacity56 that she wanted to see.
An advantageous57 marriage was so obviously the most sensible course for him to embark58 on that she scarcely dared to hope that he would seriously entertain it; yet there was just a chance that if he got as far as the flirtation59 stage with an attractive (and attracted) girl who was also an heiress, the sheer perversity60 of his nature might carry him on to more definite courtship, if only from the desire to thrust other more genuinely enamoured suitors into the background. It was a forlorn hope; so forlorn that the idea even crossed her mind of throwing herself on the mercy of her bete noire, Courtenay Youghal, and trying to enlist61 the influence which he seemed to possess over Comus for the purpose of furthering her hurriedly conceived project. Anyhow, the dinner promised to be more interesting than she had originally anticipated.
Lady Caroline was a professed62 Socialist63 in politics, chiefly, it was believed, because she was thus enabled to disagree with most of the Liberals and Conservatives, and all the Socialists64 of the day. She did not permit her Socialism, however, to penetrate65 below stairs; her cook and butler had every encouragement to be Individualists. Francesca, who was a keen and intelligent food critic, harboured no misgivings66 as to her hostess’s kitchen and cellar departments; some of the human side-dishes at the feast gave her more ground for uneasiness. Courtenay Youghal, for instance, would probably be brilliantly silent; her brother Henry would almost certainly be the reverse.
The dinner party was a large one and Francesca arrived late with little time to take preliminary stock of the guests; a card with the name, “Miss de Frey,” immediately opposite her own place at the other side of the table, indicated, however, the whereabouts of the heiress. It was characteristic of Francesca that she first carefully read the menu from end to end, and then indulged in an equally careful though less open scrutiny67 of the girl who sat opposite her, the girl who was nobody in particular, but whose income was everything that could be desired. She was pretty in a restrained nut-brown fashion, and had a look of grave reflective calm that probably masked a speculative68 unsettled temperament69. Her pose, if one wished to be critical, was just a little too elaborately careless. She wore some excellently set rubies70 with that indefinable air of having more at home that is so difficult to improvise71. Francesca was distinctly pleased with her survey.
“You seem interested in your vis-a-vis,” said Courtenay Youghal.
“I almost think I’ve seen her before,” said Francesca; “her face seems familiar to me.”
“The narrow gallery at the Louvre; attributed to Leonardo da Vinci,” said Youghal.
“Of course,” said Francesca, her feelings divided between satisfaction at capturing an elusive72 impression and annoyance that Youghal should have been her helper. A stronger tinge28 of annoyance possessed73 her when she heard the voice of Henry Greech raised in painful prominence74 at Lady Caroline’s end of the table.
“I called on the Trudhams yesterday,” he announced; “it was their Silver Wedding, you know, at least the day before was. Such lots of silver presents, quite a show. Of course there were a great many duplicates, but still, very nice to have. I think they were very pleased to get so many.”
“We must not grudge75 them their show of presents after their twenty-five years of married life,” said Lady Caroline, gently; “it is the silver lining76 to their cloud.”
A third of the guests present were related to the Trudhams.
“Lady Caroline is beginning well,” murmured Courtenay Youghal.
“I should hardly call twenty-five years of married life a cloud,” said Henry Greech, lamely77.
“Don’t let’s talk about married life,” said a tall handsome woman, who looked like some modern painter’s conception of the goddess Bellona; “it’s my misfortune to write eternally about husbands and wives and their variants78. My public expects it of me. I do so envy journalists who can write about plagues and strikes and Anarchist79 plots, and other pleasing things, instead of being tied down to one stale old topic.”
“Who is that woman and what has she written?” Francesca asked Youghal; she dimly remembered having seen her at one of Serena Golackly’s gatherings80, surrounded by a little Court of admirers.
“I forget her name; she has a villa81 at San Remo or Mentone, or somewhere where one does have villas82, and plays an extraordinary good game of bridge. Also she has the reputation, rather rare in your sex, of being a wonderfully sound judge of wine.”
“But what has she written?”
“Oh, several novels of the thinnish ice order. Her last one, ‘The Woman who wished it was Wednesday,’ has been banned at all the libraries. I expect you’ve read it.”
“I don’t see why you should think so,” said Francesca, coldly.
“Only because Comus lent me your copy yesterday,” said Youghal. He threw back his handsome head and gave her a sidelong glance of quizzical amusement. He knew that she hated his intimacy83 with Comus, and he was secretly rather proud of his influence over the boy, shallow and negative though he knew it to be. It had been, on his part, an unsought intimacy, and it would probably fall to pieces the moment he tried seriously to take up the role of mentor84. The fact that Comus’s mother openly disapproved85 of the friendship gave it perhaps its chief interest in the young politician’s eyes.
Francesca turned her attention to her brother’s end of the table. Henry Greech had willingly availed himself of the invitation to leave the subject of married life, and had launched forthwith into the equally well-worn theme of current politics. He was not a person who was in much demand for public meetings, and the House showed no great impatience86 to hear his views on the topics of the moment; its impatience, indeed, was manifested rather in the opposite direction. Hence he was prone87 to unburden himself of accumulated political wisdom as occasion presented itself — sometimes, indeed, to assume an occasion that was hardly visible to the naked intelligence.
“Our opponents are engaged in a hopelessly uphill struggle, and they know it,” he chirruped, defiantly88; “they’ve become possessed, like the Gadarene swine, with a whole legion of —”
“Surely the Gadarene swine went downhill,” put in Lady Caroline in a gently enquiring89 voice.
Henry Greech hastily abandoned simile90 and fell back on platitude91 and the safer kinds of fact.
Francesca did not regard her brother’s views on statecraft either in the light of gospel or revelation; as Comus once remarked, they more usually suggested exodus92. In the present instance she found distraction93 in a renewed scrutiny of the girl opposite her, who seemed to be only moderately interested in the conversational94 efforts of the diners on either side of her. Comus who was looking and talking his best, was sitting at the further end of the table, and Francesca was quick to notice in which direction the girl’s glances were continually straying. Once or twice the eyes of the young people met and a swift flush of pleasure and a half-smile that spoke95 of good understanding came to the heiress’s face. It did not need the gift of the traditional intuition of her sex to enable Francesca to guess that the girl with the desirable banking96 account was already considerably97 attracted by the lively young Pagan who had, when he cared to practise it, such an art of winning admiration98. For the first time for many, many months Francesca saw her son’s prospects99 in a rose-coloured setting, and she began, unconsciously, to wonder exactly how much wealth was summed up in the expressive100 label “almost indecently rich.” A wife with a really large fortune and a correspondingly big dower of character and ambition, might, perhaps, succeed in turning Comus’s latent energies into a groove101 which would provide him, if not with a career, at least with an occupation, and the young serious face opposite looked as if its owner lacked neither character or ambition. Francesca’s speculations102 took a more personal turn. Out of the well-filled coffers with which her imagination was toying, an inconsiderable sum might eventually be devoted103 to the leasing, or even perhaps the purchase of, the house in Blue Street when the present convenient arrangement should have come to an end, and Francesca and the Van der Meulen would not be obliged to seek fresh quarters.
A woman’s voice, talking in a discreet104 undertone on the other side of Courtenay Youghal, broke in on her bridge-building.
“Tons of money and really very presentable. Just the wife for a rising young politician. Go in and win her before she’s snapped up by some fortune hunter.”
Youghal and his instructress in worldly wisdom were looking straight across the table at the Leonardo da Vinci girl with the grave reflective eyes and the over-emphasised air of repose105. Francesca felt a quick throb106 of anger against her match-making neighbour; why, she asked herself, must some women, with no end or purpose of their own to serve, except the sheer love of meddling107 in the affairs of others, plunge108 their hands into plots and schemings of this sort, in which the happiness of more than one person was concerned? And more clearly than ever she realised how thoroughly109 she detested110 Courtenay Youghal. She had disliked him as an evil influence, setting before her son an example of showy ambition that he was not in the least likely to follow, and providing him with a model of extravagant111 dandyism that he was only too certain to copy. In her heart she knew that Comus would have embarked112 just as surely on his present course of idle self-indulgence if he had never known of the existence of Youghal, but she chose to regard that young man as her son’s evil genius, and now he seemed likely to justify113 more than ever the character she had fastened on to him. For once in his life Comus appeared to have an idea of behaving sensibly and making some use of his opportunities, and almost at the same moment Courtenay Youghal arrived on the scene as a possible and very dangerous rival. Against the good looks and fitful powers of fascination114 that Comus could bring into the field, the young politician could match half-a-dozen dazzling qualities which would go far to recommend him in the eyes of a woman of the world, still more in those of a young girl in search of an ideal. Good-looking in his own way, if not on such showy lines as Comus, always well turned-out, witty115, self-confident without being bumptious116, with a conspicuous117 Parliamentary career alongside him, and heaven knew what else in front of him, Courtenay Youghal certainly was not a rival whose chances could be held very lightly. Francesca laughed bitterly to herself as she remembered that a few hours ago she had entertained the idea of begging for his good offices in helping118 on Comus’s wooing. One consolation119, at least, she found for herself: if Youghal really meant to step in and try and cut out his young friend, the latter at any rate had snatched a useful start. Comus had mentioned Miss de Frey at luncheon120 that day, casually121 and dispassionately; if the subject of the dinner guests had not come up he would probably not have mentioned her at all. But they were obviously already very good friends. It was part and parcel of the state of domestic tension at Blue Street that Francesca should only have come to know of this highly interesting heiress by an accidental sorting of guests at a dinner party.
Lady Caroline’s voice broke in on her reflections; it was a gentle purring voice, that possessed an uncanny quality of being able to make itself heard down the longest dinner table.
“The dear Archdeacon is getting so absent-minded. He read a list of box-holders for the opera as the First Lesson the other Sunday, instead of the families and lots of the tribes of Israel that entered Canaan. Fortunately no one noticed the mistake.”
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1
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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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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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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industriously
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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tributary
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| n.支流；纳贡国；adj.附庸的；辅助的；支流的 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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variant
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| adj.不同的，变异的；n.变体，异体 | |
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remunerative
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| adj.有报酬的 | |
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insouciance
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| n.漠不关心 | |
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fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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carnation
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| n.康乃馨（一种花） | |
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contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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breakdowns
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| n.分解( breakdown的名词复数 )；衰竭；（车辆或机器的）损坏；统计分析 | |
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cholera
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| n.霍乱 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
compensating
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| 补偿，补助，修正 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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43
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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45
antipathies
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| 反感( antipathy的名词复数 )； 引起反感的事物； 憎恶的对象； （在本性、倾向等方面的）不相容 | |
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46
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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47
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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48
schism
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| n.分派，派系，分裂 | |
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49
upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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50
antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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51
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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52
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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53
vindicated
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| v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的过去式和过去分词 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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54
misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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55
annihilating
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的现在分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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56
pugnacity
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| n.好斗，好战 | |
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57
advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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58
embark
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| vi.乘船，着手，从事，上飞机 | |
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59
flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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60
perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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61
enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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socialists
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| 社会主义者( socialist的名词复数 ) | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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improvise
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| v.即兴创作；临时准备，临时凑成 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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variants
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| n.变体( variant的名词复数 )；变种；变型；（词等的）变体 | |
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anarchist
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| n.无政府主义者 | |
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gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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mentor
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| n.指导者，良师益友；v.指导 | |
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disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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enquiring
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| a.爱打听的，显得好奇的 | |
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simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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platitude
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| n.老生常谈，陈词滥调 | |
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exodus
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| v.大批离去，成群外出 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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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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banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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groove
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| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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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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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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112
embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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113
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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114
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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115
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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116
bumptious
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| adj.傲慢的 | |
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117
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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118
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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119
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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120
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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