There was balm to Elaine in this reflection, yet it did not wholly suffice to drive out the feeling of pique which Comus had called into being by his slighting view of her as a convenient cash supply in moments of emergency. She found a certain satisfaction in scrupulously13 observing her promise, made earlier on that eventful day, and sent off a messenger with the stipulated14 loan. Then a reaction of compunction set in, and she reminded herself that in fairness she ought to write and tell her news in as friendly a fashion as possible to her dismissed suitor before it burst upon him from some other quarter. They had parted on more or less quarrelling terms it was true, but neither of them had foreseen the finality of the parting nor the permanence of the breach15 between them; Comus might even now be thinking himself half-forgiven, and the awakening16 would be rather cruel. The letter, however, did not prove an easy one to write; not only did it present difficulties of its own but it suffered from the competing urgency of a desire to be doing something far pleasanter than writing explanatory and valedictory17 phrases. Elaine was possessed18 with an unusual but quite overmastering hankering to visit her cousin Suzette Brankley. They met but rarely at each other’s houses and very seldom anywhere else, and Elaine for her part was never conscious of feeling that their opportunities for intercourse19 lacked anything in the way of adequacy. Suzette accorded her just that touch of patronage20 which a moderately well-off and immoderately dull girl will usually try to mete21 out to an acquaintance who is known to be wealthy and suspected of possessing brains. In return Elaine armed herself with that particular brand of mock humility22 which can be so terribly disconcerting if properly wielded23. No quarrel of any description stood between them and one could not legitimately24 have described them as enemies, but they never disarmed25 in one another’s presence. A misfortune of any magnitude falling on one of them would have been sincerely regretted by the other, but any minor26 discomfiture27 would have produced a feeling very much akin28 to satisfaction. Human nature knows millions of these inconsequent little feuds29, springing up and flourishing apart from any basis of racial, political, religious or economic causes, as a hint perhaps to crass30 unseeing altruists that enmity has its place and purpose in the world as well as benevolence31.
Elaine had not personally congratulated Suzette since the formal announcement of her engagement to the young man with the dissentient tailoring effects. The impulse to go and do so now, overmastered her sense of what was due to Comus in the way of explanation. The letter was still in its blank unwritten stage, an unmarshalled sequence of sentences forming in her brain, when she ordered her car and made a hurried but well-thought-out change into her most sumptuously32 sober afternoon toilette. Suzette, she felt tolerably sure, would still be in the costume that she had worn in the Park that morning, a costume that aimed at elaboration of detail, and was damned with overmuch success.
Suzette’s mother welcomed her unexpected visitor with obvious satisfaction. Her daughter’s engagement, she explained, was not so brilliant from the social point of view as a girl of Suzette’s attractions and advantages might have legitimately aspired33 to, but Egbert was a thoroughly34 commendable35 and dependable young man, who would very probably win his way before long to membership of the County Council.
“From there, of course, the road would be open to him to higher things.”
“Yes,” said Elaine, “he might become an alderman.”
“Have you seen their photographs, taken together?” asked Mrs. Brankley, abandoning the subject of Egbert’s prospective36 career.
“No, do show me,” said Elaine, with a flattering show of interest; “I’ve never seen that sort of thing before. It used to be the fashion once for engaged couples to be photographed together, didn’t it?”
“It’s VERY much the fashion now,” said Mrs. Brankley assertively37, but some of the complacency had filtered out of her voice. Suzette came into the room, wearing the dress that she had worn in the Park that morning.
“Of course, you’ve been hearing all about THE engagement from mother,” she cried, and then set to work conscientiously38 to cover the same ground.
“We met at Grindelwald, you know. He always calls me his Ice Maiden39 because we first got to know each other on the skating rink. Quite romantic, wasn’t it? Then we asked him to tea one day, and we got to be quite friendly. Then he proposed.”
“He wasn’t the only one who was smitten40 with Suzette,” Mrs. Brankley hastened to put in, fearful lest Elaine might suppose that Egbert had had things all his own way. “There was an American millionaire who was quite taken with her, and a Polish count of a very old family. I assure you I felt quite nervous at some of our tea-parties.”
Mrs. Brankley had given Grindelwald a sinister41 but rather alluring42 reputation among a large circle of untravelled friends as a place where the insolence43 of birth and wealth was held in precarious44 check from breaking forth45 into scenes of savage46 violence.
“My marriage with Egbert will, of course, enlarge the sphere of my life enormously,” pursued Suzette.
“Yes,” said Elaine; her eyes were rather remorselessly taking in the details of her cousin’s toilette. It is said that nothing is sadder than victory except defeat. Suzette began to feel that the tragedy of both was concentrated in the creation which had given her such unalloyed gratification, till Elaine had come on the scene.
“A woman can be so immensely helpful in the social way to a man who is making a career for himself. And I’m so glad to find that we’ve a great many ideas in common. We each made out a list of our idea of the hundred best books, and quite a number of them were the same.”
“He looks bookish,” said Elaine, with a critical glance at the photograph.
“Oh, he’s not at all a bookworm,” said Suzette quickly, “though he’s tremendously well-read. He’s quite the man of action.”
“Does he hunt?” asked Elaine.
“No, he doesn’t get much time or opportunity for riding.”
“What a pity,” commented Elaine; “I don’t think I could marry a man who wasn’t fond of riding.”
“Of course that’s a matter of taste,” said Suzette, stiffly; “horsey men are not usually gifted with overmuch brains, are they?”
“There is as much difference between a horseman and a horsey man as there is between a well-dressed man and a dressy one,” said Elaine, judicially47; “and you may have noticed how seldom a dressy woman really knows how to dress. As an old lady of my acquaintance observed the other day, some people are born with a sense of how to clothe themselves, others acquire it, others look as if their clothes had been thrust upon them.”
She gave Lady Caroline her due quotation48 marks, but the sudden tactfulness with which she looked away from her cousin’s frock was entirely49 her own idea.
A young man entering the room at this moment caused a diversion that was rather welcome to Suzette.
“Here comes Egbert,” she announced, with an air of subdued50 triumph; it was at least a satisfaction to be able to produce the captive of her charms, alive and in good condition, on the scene. Elaine might be as critical as she pleased, but a live lover outweighed51 any number of well-dressed straight-riding cavaliers who existed only as a distant vision of the delectable52 husband.
Egbert was one of those men who have no small talk, but possess an inexhaustible supply of the larger variety. In whatever society he happened to be, and particularly in the immediate53 neighbourhood of an afternoon-tea table, with a limited audience of womenfolk, he gave the impression of someone who was addressing a public meeting, and would be happy to answer questions afterwards. A suggestion of gas-lit mission-halls, wet umbrellas, and discreet54 applause seemed to accompany him everywhere. He was an exponent55, among other things, of what he called New Thought, which seemed to lend itself conveniently to the employment of a good deal of rather stale phraseology. Probably in the course of some thirty odd years of existence he had never been of any notable use to man, woman, child or animal, but it was his firmly-announced intention to leave the world a better, happier, purer place than he had found it; against the danger of any relapse to earlier conditions after his disappearance56 from the scene, he was, of course, powerless to guard. ’Tis not in mortals to insure succession, and Egbert was admittedly mortal.
Elaine found him immensely entertaining, and would certainly have exerted herself to draw him out if such a proceeding57 had been at all necessary. She listened to his conversation with the complacent58 appreciation59 that one bestows60 on a stage tragedy, from whose calamities61 one can escape at any moment by the simple process of leaving one’s seat. When at last he checked the flow of his opinions by a hurried reference to his watch, and declared that he must be moving on elsewhere, Elaine almost expected a vote of thanks to be accorded him, or to be asked to signify herself in favour of some resolution by holding up her hand.
When the young man had bidden the company a rapid business-like farewell, tempered in Suzette’s case by the exact degree of tender intimacy62 that it would have been considered improper63 to omit or overstep, Elaine turned to her expectant cousin with an air of cordial congratulation.
“He is exactly the husband I should have chosen for you, Suzette.”
For the second time that afternoon Suzette felt a sense of waning64 enthusiasm for one of her possessions.
Mrs. Brankley detected the note of ironical65 congratulation in her visitor’s verdict.
“I suppose she means he’s not her idea of a husband, but, he’s good enough for Suzette,” she observed to herself, with a snort that expressed itself somewhere in the nostrils66 of the brain. Then with a smiling air of heavy patronage she delivered herself of her one idea of a damaging counter-stroke.
“And when are we to hear of your engagement, my dear?”
“Now,” said Elaine quietly, but with electrical effect; “I came to announce it to you but I wanted to hear all about Suzette first. It will be formally announced in the papers in a day or two.”
“But who is it? Is it the young man who was with you in the Park this morning?” asked Suzette.
“Let me see, who was I with in the Park this morning? A very good-looking dark boy? Oh no, not Comus Bassington. Someone you know by name, anyway, and I expect you’ve seen his portrait in the papers.”
“A flying-man?” asked Mrs. Brankley.
“Courtenay Youghal,” said Elaine.
Mrs. Brankley and Suzette had often rehearsed in the privacy of their minds the occasion when Elaine should come to pay her personal congratulations to her engaged cousin. It had never been in the least like this.
On her return from her enjoyable afternoon visit Elaine found an express messenger letter waiting for her. It was from Comus, thanking her for her loan — and returning it.
“I suppose I ought never to have asked you for it,” he wrote, “but you are always so deliciously solemn about money matters that I couldn’t resist. Just heard the news of your engagement to Courtenay. Congrats. to you both. I’m far too stoney broke to buy you a wedding present so I’m going to give you back the bread-and-butter dish. Luckily it still has your crest67 on it. I shall love to think of you and Courtenay eating bread-and-butter out of it for the rest of your lives.”
That was all he had to say on the matter about which Elaine had been preparing to write a long and kindly-expressed letter, closing a rather momentous chapter in her life and his. There was not a trace of regret or upbraiding68 in his note; he had walked out of their mutual69 fairyland as abruptly70 as she had, and to all appearances far more unconcernedly. Reading the letter again and again Elaine could come to no decision as to whether this was merely a courageous71 gibe72 at defeat, or whether it represented the real value that Comus set on the thing that he had lost.
And she would never know. If Comus possessed one useless gift to perfection it was the gift of laughing at Fate even when it had struck him hardest. One day, perhaps, the laughter and mockery would be silent on his lips, and Fate would have the advantage of laughing last.
点击收听单词发音
1 momentous | |
adj.重要的,重大的 | |
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2 tangle | |
n.纠缠;缠结;混乱;v.(使)缠绕;变乱 | |
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3 dominant | |
adj.支配的,统治的;占优势的;显性的;n.主因,要素,主要的人(或物);显性基因 | |
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4 pique | |
v.伤害…的自尊心,使生气 n.不满,生气 | |
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5 justification | |
n.正当的理由;辩解的理由 | |
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6 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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7 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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8 glamour | |
n.魔力,魅力;vt.迷住 | |
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9 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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10 sterling | |
adj.英币的(纯粹的,货真价实的);n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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11 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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12 herds | |
兽群( herd的名词复数 ); 牧群; 人群; 群众 | |
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13 scrupulously | |
adv.一丝不苟地;小心翼翼地,多顾虑地 | |
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14 stipulated | |
vt.& vi.规定;约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
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15 breach | |
n.违反,不履行;破裂;vt.冲破,攻破 | |
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16 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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17 valedictory | |
adj.告别的;n.告别演说 | |
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18 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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19 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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20 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
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21 mete | |
v.分配;给予 | |
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22 humility | |
n.谦逊,谦恭 | |
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23 wielded | |
手持着使用(武器、工具等)( wield的过去式和过去分词 ); 具有; 运用(权力); 施加(影响) | |
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24 legitimately | |
ad.合法地;正当地,合理地 | |
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25 disarmed | |
v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 );使息怒 | |
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26 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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27 discomfiture | |
n.崩溃;大败;挫败;困惑 | |
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28 akin | |
adj.同族的,类似的 | |
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29 feuds | |
n.长期不和,世仇( feud的名词复数 ) | |
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30 crass | |
adj.愚钝的,粗糙的;彻底的 | |
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31 benevolence | |
n.慈悲,捐助 | |
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32 sumptuously | |
奢侈地,豪华地 | |
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33 aspired | |
v.渴望,追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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35 commendable | |
adj.值得称赞的 | |
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36 prospective | |
adj.预期的,未来的,前瞻性的 | |
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37 assertively | |
断言地,独断地 | |
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38 conscientiously | |
adv.凭良心地;认真地,负责尽职地;老老实实 | |
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39 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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40 smitten | |
猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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41 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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42 alluring | |
adj.吸引人的,迷人的 | |
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43 insolence | |
n.傲慢;无礼;厚颜;傲慢的态度 | |
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44 precarious | |
adj.不安定的,靠不住的;根据不足的 | |
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45 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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46 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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47 judicially | |
依法判决地,公平地 | |
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48 quotation | |
n.引文,引语,语录;报价,牌价,行情 | |
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49 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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50 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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51 outweighed | |
v.在重量上超过( outweigh的过去式和过去分词 );在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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52 delectable | |
adj.使人愉快的;美味的 | |
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53 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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54 discreet | |
adj.(言行)谨慎的;慎重的;有判断力的 | |
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55 exponent | |
n.倡导者,拥护者;代表人物;指数,幂 | |
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56 disappearance | |
n.消失,消散,失踪 | |
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57 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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58 complacent | |
adj.自满的;自鸣得意的 | |
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59 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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60 bestows | |
赠给,授予( bestow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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61 calamities | |
n.灾祸,灾难( calamity的名词复数 );不幸之事 | |
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62 intimacy | |
n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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63 improper | |
adj.不适当的,不合适的,不正确的,不合礼仪的 | |
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64 waning | |
adj.(月亮)渐亏的,逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 );(月)亏;变小;变暗淡 | |
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65 ironical | |
adj.讽刺的,冷嘲的 | |
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66 nostrils | |
鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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67 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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68 upbraiding | |
adj.& n.谴责(的)v.责备,申斥,谴责( upbraid的现在分词 ) | |
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69 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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70 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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71 courageous | |
adj.勇敢的,有胆量的 | |
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72 gibe | |
n.讥笑;嘲弄 | |
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