As the young man was about to be parted for an indefinite period from the girl whom he was ready to swear that he adored, it is clear that he ought to have been equally ready to swear that she was the fairest of her species. In point of fact, however, it was no less vivid to him than it had been before that he loved Dora Temperly for qualities which had nothing to do with straightness of nose or pinkness of complexion2. Her figure was straight, and so was her character, but her nose was not, and Philistines3 and other vulgar people would have committed themselves, without a blush on their own flat faces, to the assertion that she was decidedly plain. In his artistic4 imagination he had analogies for her, drawn5 from legend and literature; he was perfectly6 aware that she struck many persons as silent, shy and angular, while his own version of her peculiarities7 was that she was like a figure on the predella of an early Italian painting or a medi?val maiden9 wandering about a lonely castle, with her lover gone to the Crusades. To his sense, Dora had but one defect — her admiration10 for her mother was too undiscriminating. An ardent12 young man may well be slightly vexed13 when he finds that a young lady will probably never care for him so much as she cares for her parent; and Raymond Bestwick had this added ground for chagrin14, that Dora had — if she chose to take it — so good a pretext15 for discriminating11. For she had nothing whatever in common with the others; she was not of the same stuff as Mrs. Temperly and Effie and Tishy.
She was original and generous and uncalculating, besides being full of perception and taste in regard to the things he cared about. She knew nothing of conventional signs or estimates, but understood everything that might be said to her from an artistic point of view. She was formed to live in a studio, and not in a stiff drawing-room, amid upholstery horribly new; and moreover her eyes and her voice were both charming. It was only a pity she was so gentle; that is, he liked it for himself, but he deplored16 it for her mother. He considered that he had virtually given that lady his word that he would not make love to her; but his spirits had risen since his visit of three or four hours before. It seemed to him, after thinking things over more intently, that a way would be opened for him to return to Paris. It was not probable that in the interval17 Dora would be married off to a prince; for in the first place the foolish race of princes would be sure not to appreciate her, and in the second she would not, in this matter, simply do her mother’s bidding — her gentleness would not go so far as that. She might remain single by the maternal18 decree, but she would not take a husband who was disagreeable to her. In this reasoning Raymond was obliged to shut his eyes very tight to the danger that some particular prince might not be disagreeable to her, as well as to the attraction proceeding19 from what her mother might announce that she would ‘do.’ He was perfectly aware that it was in Cousin Maria’s power, and would probably be in her pleasure, to settle a handsome marriage-fee upon each of her daughters. He was equally certain that this had nothing to do with the nature of his own interest in the eldest20, both because it was clear that Mrs. Temperly would do very little for him, and because he didn’t care how little she did.
Effie and Tishy sat in the circle, on the edge of rather high chairs, while Mademoiselle Bourde surveyed in them with complacency the results of her own superiority. Tishy was a child, but Effie was fifteen, and they were both very nice little girls, arrayed in fresh travelling dresses and deriving21 a quaintness22 from the fact that Tishy was already armed, for foreign adventures, with a smart new reticule, from which she could not be induced to part, and that Effie had her finger in her ‘place’ in a fat red volume of Murray. Raymond knew that in a general way their mother would not have allowed them to appear in the drawing-room with these adjuncts, but something was to be allowed to the fever of anticipation23. They were both pretty, with delicate features and blue eyes, and would grow up into worldly, conventional young ladies, just as Dora had not done. They looked at Mademoiselle Bourde for approval whenever they spoke24, and, in addressing their mother alternately with that accomplished25 woman, kept their two languages neatly26 distinct.
Raymond had but a vague idea of who the people were who had come to bid Cousin Maria farewell, and he had no wish for a sharper one, though she introduced him, very definitely, to the whole group. She might make light of him in her secret soul, but she would never put herself in the wrong by omitting the smallest form. Fortunately, however, he was not obliged to like all her forms, and he foresaw the day when she would abandon this particular one. She was not so well made up in advance about Paris but that it would be in reserve for her to detest27 the period when she had thought it proper to ‘introduce all round.’ Raymond detested28 it already, and tried to make Dora understand that he wished her to take a walk with him in the corridors. There was a gentleman with a curl on his forehead who especially displeased29 him; he made childish jokes, at which the others laughed all at once, as if they had rehearsed for it — jokes à la portée of Effie and Tishy and mainly about them. These two joined in the merriment, as if they followed perfectly, as indeed they might, and gave a small sigh afterward30, with a little factitious air. Dora remained grave, almost sad; it was when she was different, in this way, that he felt how much he liked her. He hated, in general, a large ring of people who had drawn up chairs in the public room of an hotel: some one was sure to undertake to be funny.
He succeeded at last in drawing Dora away; he endeavoured to give the movement a casual air. There was nothing peculiar8, after all, in their walking a little in the passage; a dozen other persons were doing the same. The girl had the air of not suspecting in the least that he could have anything particular to say to her — of responding to his appeal simply out of her general gentleness. It was not in her companion’s interest that her mind should be such a blank; nevertheless his conviction that in spite of the ministrations of Mademoiselle Bourde she was not falsely ingenuous31 made him repeat to himself that he would still make her his own. They took several turns in the hall, during which it might still have appeared to Dora Temperly that her cousin Raymond had nothing particular to say to her. He remarked several times that he should certainly turn up in Paris in the spring; but when once she had replied that she was very glad that subject seemed exhausted32. The young man cared little, however; it was not a question now of making any declaration: he only wanted to be with her. Suddenly, when they were at the end of the corridor furthest removed from the room they had left, he said to her: ‘Your mother is very strange. Why has she got such an idea about Paris?’
‘How do you mean, such an idea?’ He had stopped, making the girl stand there before him.
‘Well, she thinks so much of it without having ever seen it, or really knowing anything. She appears to have planned out such a great life there.’
‘She thinks it’s the best place,’ Dora rejoined, with the dim smile that always charmed our young man.
‘The best place for what?’
‘Well, to learn French.’ The girl continued to smile.
‘Do you mean for her? She’ll never learn it; she can’t.’
‘No; for us. And other things.’
‘You know it already. And you know other things,’ said Raymond.
‘She wants us to know them better — better than any girls know them.’
‘I don’t know what things you mean,’ exclaimed the young man, rather impatiently.
‘Well, we shall see,’ Dora returned, laughing.
He said nothing for a minute, at the end of which he resumed: ‘I hope you won’t be offended if I say that it seems curious your mother should have such aspirations33 — such Napoleonic plans. I mean being just a quiet little lady from California, who has never seen any of the kind of thing that she has in her head.’
‘That’s just why she wants to see it, I suppose; and I don’t know why her being from California should prevent. At any rate she wants us to have the best. Isn’t the best taste in Paris?’
‘Yes; and the worst.’ It made him gloomy when she defended the old lady, and to change the subject he asked: ‘Aren’t you sorry, this last night, to leave your own country for such an indefinite time?’
It didn’t cheer him up that the girl should answer: ‘Oh, I would go anywhere with mother!’
‘And with her?’ Raymond demanded, sarcastically34, as Mademoiselle Bourde came in sight, emerging from the drawing-room. She approached them; they met her in a moment, and she informed Dora that Mrs. Temperly wished her to come back and play a part of that composition of Saint–Saens — the last one she had been learning — for Mr. and Mrs. Parminter: they wanted to judge whether their daughter could manage it.
‘I don’t believe she can,’ said Dora, smiling; but she was moving away to comply when her companion detained her a moment.
Are you going to bid me good-bye?’
‘Won’t you come back to the drawing-room?’
‘I think not; I don’t like it.’
‘And to mamma — you’ll say nothing?’ the girl went on.
‘Oh, we have made our farewell; we had a special interview this afternoon.’
‘And you won’t come to the ship in the morning?’
Raymond hesitated a moment. ‘Will Mr. and Mrs. Parminter be there?’
‘Oh, surely they will!’ Mademoiselle Bourde declared, surveying the young couple with a certain tactful serenity35, but standing36 very close to them, as if it might be her duty to interpose.
‘Well then, I won’t come.’
‘Well, good-bye then,’ said the girl gently, holding out her hand.
‘Good-bye, Dora.’ He took it, while she smiled at him, but he said nothing more — he was so annoyed at the way Mademoiselle Bourde watched them. He only looked at Dora; she seemed to him beautiful.
‘My dear child — that poor Madame Parminter,’ the governess murmured.
‘I shall come over very soon,’ said Raymond, as his companion turned away.
‘That will be charming.’ And she left him quickly, without looking back.
Mademoiselle Bourde lingered — he didn’t know why, unless it was to make him feel, with her smooth, finished French assurance, which had the manner of extreme benignity37, that she was following him up. He sometimes wondered whether she copied Mrs. Temperly or whether Mrs. Temperly tried to copy her. Presently she said, slowly rubbing her hands and smiling at him:
‘You will have plenty of time. We shall be long in Paris.’
‘Perhaps you will be disappointed,’ Raymond suggested.
‘How can we be — unless you disappoint us?’ asked the governess, sweetly.
He left her without ceremony: the imitation was probably on the part of Cousin Maria.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
besought
|
|
| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
philistines
|
|
| n.市侩，庸人( philistine的名词复数 )；庸夫俗子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
peculiarities
|
|
| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
discriminating
|
|
| a.有辨别能力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
vexed
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
chagrin
|
|
| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
pretext
|
|
| n.借口，托词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
deplored
|
|
| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
maternal
|
|
| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
deriving
|
|
| v.得到( derive的现在分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
quaintness
|
|
| n.离奇有趣，古怪的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
anticipation
|
|
| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
detest
|
|
| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
detested
|
|
| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
displeased
|
|
| a.不快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
ingenuous
|
|
| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
aspirations
|
|
| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
sarcastically
|
|
| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
serenity
|
|
| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
benignity
|
|
| n.仁慈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |