His companion had said something, by the time they started, about their taking a turn, their looking out for a few of the night-views of Paris that were so wonderful; and after that, in spite of his constantly prized sense of knowing his enchanted10 city and his way about, he ceased to follow or measure their course, content as he was with the particular exquisite11 assurance it gave him. That was knowing Paris, of a wondrous12 bland13 April night; that was hanging over it from vague consecrated14 lamp-studded heights and taking in, spread below and afar, the great scroll15 of all its irresistible16 story, pricked17 out, across river and bridge and radiant place, and along quays18 and boulevards and avenues, and around monumental circles and squares, in syllables19 of fire, and sketched20 and summarised, further and further, in the dim fire-dust of endless avenues; that was all of the essence of fond and thrilled and throbbing21 recognition, with a thousand things understood and a flood of response conveyed, a whole familiar possessive feeling appealed to and attested22.
“From you, you know, it would be such a pleasure, and I think — in fact I’m sure — it would do so much for the thing in America.” Had she gone on as they went, or had there been pauses of easy and of charmed and of natural silence, breaks and drops from talk, but only into greater confidence and sweetness? — such as her very gesture now seemed a part of; her laying her gloved hand, for emphasis, on the back of his own, which rested on his knee and which took in from the act he scarce knew what melting assurance. The emphasis, it was true — this came to him even while for a minute he held his breath — seemed rather that of Amy Evans; and if her talk, while they rolled, had been in the sense of these words (he had really but felt that they were shut intimately in together, all his consciousness, all his discrimination of meanings and indications being so deeply and so exquisitely23 merged24 in that) the case wasn’t as surely and sublimely25, as extravagantly26, as fabulously27 romantic for him as his excited pulses had been seeming to certify28. Her hand was there on his own, in precious living proof, and splendid Paris hung over them, as a consecrating29 canopy30, her purple night embroidered31 with gold; yet he waited, something stranger still having glimmered32 for him, waited though she left her hand, which expressed emphasis and homage35 and tenderness, and anything else she liked indeed — since it was all then a matter of what he next heard and what he slowly grew cold as he took from her.
“You know they do it here so charmingly — it’s a compliment a clever man is always so glad to pay a literary friend, and sometimes, in the case of a great name like yours, it renders such a service to a poor little book like mine!” She spoke ever so humbly36 and yet ever so gaily37 — and still more than before with this confidence of the sincere admirer and the comrade. That, yes, through his sudden sharpening chill, was what first became distinct for him; she was mentioning somehow her explanation and her conditions — her motive38, in fine, disconcerting, deplorable, dreadful, in respect to the experience, otherwise so boundless39, that he had taken her as having opened to him; and she was doing it, above all, with the clearest coolness of her general privilege. What in particular she was talking about he as yet, still holding his breath, wondered; it was something she wanted him to do for her — which was exactly what he had hoped, but something of what trivial and, heaven forgive them both, of what dismal40 order? Most of all, meanwhile, he felt the dire41 penetration42 of two or three of the words she had used; so that after a painful minute the quaver with which he repeated them resembled his-drawing, slowly, carefully, timidly, some barbed dart44 out of his flesh.
“A ‘literary friend’?” he echoed as he turned his face more to her; so that, as they sat, the whites of her eyes, near to his own, gleamed in the dusk like some silver setting of deep sapphires45.
It made her smile — which in their relation now was like the breaking of a cool air-wave over the conscious sore flush that maintained itself through his general chill. “Ah, of course you don’t allow that I am literary — and of course if you’re awfully46 cruel and critical and incorruptible you won’t let it say for me what I so want it should!”
“Where are we, where, in the name of all that’s damnably, of all that’s grotesquely47 delusive48, are we?” he said, without a sign, to himself; which was the form of his really being quite at sea as to what she was talking about. That uncertainty49 indeed he could but frankly50 betray by taking her up, as he cast about him, on the particular ambiguity51 that his voice perhaps already showed him to find most irritating. “Let it show? ‘It,’ dear Princess ——?”
“Why, my dear man, let your Preface show, the lovely, friendly, irresistible log-rolling Preface that I’ve been asking you if you wouldn’t be an angel and write for me.”
He took it in with a deep long gulp52 — he had never, it seemed to him, had to swallow anything so bitter. “You’ve been asking me if I wouldn’t write you a Preface?”
“To ‘The Velvet53 Glove’ — after I’ve sent it to you and you’ve judged if you really can. Of course I don’t want you to perjure54 yourself; but” — and she fairly brushed him again, at their close quarters, with her fresh fragrant55 smile — “I do want you so to like me, and to say it all out beautifully and publicly.” “You want me to like you, Princess?” “But, heaven help us, haven’t you understood?” Nothing stranger could conceivably have been, it struck him — if he was right now — than this exquisite intimacy56 of her manner of setting him down on the other side of an abyss. It was as if she had lifted him first in her beautiful arms, had raised him up high, high, high, to do it, pressing him to her immortal57 young breast while he let himself go, and then, by some extraordinary effect of her native force and her alien quality, setting him down exactly where she wanted him to be — which was a thousand miles away from her. Once more, so preposterously58 face to face with her for these base issues, he took it all in; after which he felt his eyes close, for amazement59, despair and shame, and his head, which he had some time before, baring his brow to the mild night, eased of its crush-hat, sink to confounded rest on the upholstered back of the seat. The act, the ceasing to see, and if possible to hear, was for the moment a retreat, an escape from a state that he felt himself fairly flatter by thinking of it as “awkward”; the state of really wishing that his humiliation60 might end, and of wondering in fact if the most decent course open to him mightn’t be to ask her to stop the motor and let him down.
He spoke no word for a long minute, or for considerably61 more than that; during which time the motor went and went, now even somewhat faster, and he knew, through his closed eyes, that the outer lights had begun to multiply and that they were getting back somewhere into the spacious62 and decorative63 quarters. He knew this, and also that his retreat, for all his attitude as of accommodating thought, his air — that presently and quickly came to him — of having perhaps gathered himself in, for an instant, at her behest, to turn over, in his high ingenuity64, some humbugging “rotten” phrase or formula that he might place at her service and make the note of such an effort; he became aware, I say, that his lapse65 was but a half-retreat, with her strenuous66 presence and her earnest pressure and the close cool respiration67 of her good faith absolutely timing68 the moments of his stillness and the progress of the car. Yes, it was wondrous well, he had all but made the biggest of all fools of himself, almost as big a one as she was still, to every appearance, in her perfect serenity69, trying to make of him; and the one straight answer to it would be that he should reach forward and touch the footman’s shoulder and demand that the vehicle itself should make an end.
That would be an answer, however, he continued intensely to see, only to inanely70 importunate71, to utterly72 superfluous73 Amy Evans — not a bit to his at last exquisitely patient companion, who was clearly now quite taking it from him that what kept him in his attitude was the spring of the quick desire to oblige her, the charming loyal impulse to consider a little what he could do for her, say “handsomely yet conscientiously” (oh the loveliness!) before he should commit himself. She was enchanted — that seemed to breathe upon him; she waited, she hung there, she quite bent75 over him, as Diana over the sleeping Endymion, while all the conscientious74 man of letters in him, as she might so supremely76 have phrased it, struggled with the more peccable, the more muddled77 and “squared,” though, for her own ideal, the so much more banal78 comrade. Yes, he could keep it up now — that is he could hold out for his real reply, could meet the rather marked tension of the rest of their passage as well as she; he should be able somehow or other to make his wordless detachment, the tribute of his ostensibly deep consideration of her request, a retreat in good order. She was, for herself, to the last point of her guileless fatuity79, Amy Evans and an asker for “lifts,” a conceiver of twaddle both in herself and in him; or at least, so far as she fell short of all this platitude80, it was no fault of the really affecting folly81 of her attempt to become a mere34 magazine mortal after the only fashion she had made out, to the intensification82 of her self-complacency, that she might.
Nothing might thus have touched him more — if to be touched, beyond a certain point, hadn’t been to be squared — than the way she failed to divine the bearing of his thoughts; so that she had probably at no one small crisis of her life felt so much a promise in the flutter of her own as on the occasion of the beautiful act she indulged in at the very moment, he was afterward83 to recognise, of their sweeping84 into her great smooth, empty, costly85 street — a desert, at that hour, of lavish86 lamplight and sculptured stone. She raised to her lips the hand she had never yet released and kept it there a moment pressed close against them; he himself closing his eyes to the deepest detachment he was capable of while he took in with a smothered sound of pain that this was the conferred bounty87 by which Amy Evans sought most expressively88 to encourage, to sustain and to reward. The motor had slackened and in a moment would stop; and meanwhile even after lowering his hand again she hadn’t let it go. This enabled it, while he after a further moment roused himself to a more confessed consciousness, to form with his friend’s a more active relation, to possess him of hers, in turn, and with an intention the straighter that her glove had by this time somehow come off. Bending over it without hinderance, he returned as firmly and fully43 as the application of all his recovered wholeness of feeling, under his moustache, might express, the consecration89 the bareness of his own knuckles90 had received; only after which it was that, still thus drawing out his grasp of her, and having let down their front glass by his free hand, he signified to the footman his view of their stopping short.
They had arrived; the high, closed porte-cochere, in its crested91 stretch of wall, awaited their approach; but his gesture took effect, the car pulled up at the edge of the pavement, the man, in an instant, was at the door and had opened it; quickly moving across the walk, the next moment, to press the bell at the gate. Berridge, as his hand now broke away, felt he had cut his cable; with which, after he had stepped out, he raised again the glass he had lowered and closed, its own being already down, the door that had released him. During these motions he had the sense of his companion, still radiant and splendid, but somehow momentarily suppressed, suspended, silvered over and celestially92 blurred93, even as a summer moon by the loose veil of a cloud. So it was he saw her while he leaned for farewell on the open window-ledge; he took her in as her visible intensity94 of bright vagueness filled the circle that the interior of the car made for her. It was such a state as she would have been reduced to — he felt this, was certain of it — for the first time in her life; and it was he, poor John Berridge, after all, who would have created the condition.
“Good-night, Princess. I sha’n’t see you again.”
Vague was indeed no word for it — shine though she might, in her screened narrow niche95, as with the liquefaction of her pearls, the glimmer33 of her tears, the freshness of her surprise. “You won’t come in — when you’ve had no supper?”
He smiled at her with a purpose of kindness that could never in his life have been greater; and at first but smiled without a word. He presently shook his head, however — doubtless also with as great a sadness. “I seem to have supped to my fill, Princess. Thank you, I won’t come in.”
It drew from her, while she looked at him, a long low anxious wail96. “And you won’t do my Preface?”
“No, Princess, I won’t do your Preface. Nothing would induce me to say a word in print about you. I’m in fact not sure I shall ever mention you in any manner at all as long as ever I live.”
He had felt for an instant as if he were speaking to some miraculously97 humanised idol98, all sacred, all jewelled, all votively hung about, but made mysterious, in the recess99 of its shrine100, by the very thickness of the accumulated lustre101. And “Then you don’t like me —?” was the marvellous sound from the image.
“Princess,” was in response the sound of the worshipper, “Princess, I adore you. But I’m ashamed for you.”
“Ashamed ——?”
“You are Romance — as everything, and by what I make out every one, about you is; so what more do you want? Your Preface — the only one worth speaking of — was written long ages ago by the most beautiful imagination of man.”
Humanised at least for these moments, she could understand enough to declare that she didn’t. “I don’t, I don’t!”
“You don’t need to understand. Don’t attempt such base things. Leave those to us. Only live. Only be. We’ll do the rest.”
She moved over — she had come close to the window. “Ah, but Mr. Berridge ——!”
He raised both hands; he shook them at her gently, in deep and soft deprecation. “Don’t sound my dreadful name. Fortunately, however, you can’t help yourself.”
“Ah, voyons! I so want ———!”
He repeated his gesture, and when he brought down his hands they closed together on both of hers, which now quite convulsively grasped the window-ledge. “Don’t speak, because when you speak you really say things —!” “You are Romance,” he pronounced afresh and with the last intensity of conviction and persuasion102. “That’s all you have to do with it,” he continued while his hands, for emphasis, pressed hard on her own.
Their faces, in this way, were nearer together than ever, but with the effect of only adding to the vividness of that dire non-intelligence from which, all perversely103 and incalculably, her very beauty now appeared to gain relief. This made for him a pang and almost an anguish104; the fear of her saying something yet again that would wretchedly prove how little he moved her perception. So his eyes, of remonstrant, of suppliant105 intention, met hers close, at the same time that these, so far from shrinking, but with their quite other swimming plea all bedimmed now, seemed almost to wash him with the tears of her failure. He soothed106, he stroked, he reassured107 her hands, for tender conveyance108 of his meaning, quite as she had just before dealt with his own for brave demonstration109 of hers. It was during these instants as if the question had been which of them could most candidly110 and fraternally plead. Full but of that she kept it up. “Ah, if you’d only think, if you’d only try ——!”
He couldn’t stand it — she was capable of believing he had edged away, excusing himself and trumping111 up a factitious theory, because he hadn’t the wit, hadn’t the hand, to knock off the few pleasant pages she asked him for and that any proper Frenchman, master of the metier, would so easily and gallantly112 have promised. Should she so begin to commit herself he’d, by the immortal gods, anticipate it in the manner most admirably effective — in fact he’d even thus make her further derogation impossible. Their faces were so close that he could practise any rich freedom — even though for an instant, while the back of the chauffeur113 guarded them on that side and his own presented breadth, amplified114 by his loose mantle115, filled the whole window-space, leaving him no observation from any quarter to heed116, he uttered, in a deep-drawn final groan117, an irrepressible echo of his pang for what might have been, the muffled118 cry of his insistence119. “You are Romance!” — he drove it intimately, inordinately120 home, his lips, for a long moment, sealing it, with the fullest force of authority, on her own; after which, as he broke away and the car, starting again, turned powerfully across the pavement, he had no further sound from her than if, all divinely indulgent but all humanly defeated, she had given the question up, falling back to infinite wonder. He too fell back, but could still wave his hat for her as she passed to disappearance121 in the great floridly framed aperture122 whose wings at once came together behind her.
The End
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1
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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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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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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quays
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| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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attested
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| adj.经检验证明无病的，经检验证明无菌的v.证明( attest的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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sublimely
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| 高尚地，卓越地 | |
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extravagantly
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| adv.挥霍无度地 | |
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fabulously
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| 难以置信地，惊人地 | |
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certify
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| vt.证明，证实；发证书(或执照)给 | |
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consecrating
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| v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的现在分词 )；奉献 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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sapphires
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| n.蓝宝石，钢玉宝石( sapphire的名词复数 )；蔚蓝色 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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delusive
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| adj.欺骗的，妄想的 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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ambiguity
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| n.模棱两可；意义不明确 | |
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52
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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54
perjure
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| v.作伪证；使发假誓 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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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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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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preposterously
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| adv.反常地；荒谬地；荒谬可笑地；不合理地 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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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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62
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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63
decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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64
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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65
lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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66
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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67
respiration
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| n.呼吸作用；一次呼吸；植物光合作用 | |
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68
timing
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| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
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69
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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70
inanely
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71
importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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72
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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73
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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74
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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75
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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76
supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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77
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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78
banal
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| adj.陈腐的，平庸的 | |
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79
fatuity
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| n.愚蠢，愚昧 | |
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80
platitude
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| n.老生常谈，陈词滥调 | |
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81
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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82
intensification
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| n.激烈化，增强明暗度；加厚 | |
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83
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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84
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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85
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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86
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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87
bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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88
expressively
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| ad.表示(某事物)地；表达地 | |
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89
consecration
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| n.供献，奉献，献祭仪式 | |
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90
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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91
crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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celestially
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| adv.神地，神圣地 | |
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blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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95
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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98
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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99
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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100
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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101
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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102
persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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103
perversely
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| adv. 倔强地 | |
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104
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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105
suppliant
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| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
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106
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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107
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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108
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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109
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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110
candidly
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| adv.坦率地，直率而诚恳地 | |
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111
trumping
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| v.（牌戏）出王牌赢（一牌或一墩）( trump的现在分词 )；吹号公告，吹号庆祝；吹喇叭；捏造 | |
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112
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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113
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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114
amplified
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| 放大，扩大( amplify的过去式和过去分词 )； 增强； 详述 | |
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115
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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116
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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117
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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118
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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119
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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120
inordinately
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| adv.无度地，非常地 | |
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121
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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122
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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