Odd was putting into practice his brotherly principles. He had spent the morning with Katherine—the fifth morning since their engagement—and time hanging unemployed3 and heavy on his hands this afternoon, a visit to Hilda seemed altogether desirable. It really behoved him to solve Hilda’s dubious4 position and, if possible, help her to a more normal outlook; he felt the task far more feasible since that glimpse of gayety and confidence. Indeed he was quite unconscious of Madame Prinet’s suspicious observation as he crossed the court, and the absorption in his pleasant duty held his mind while he wound up the interminable staircase.
His knock at Hilda’s door—there was no mistaking it, for a card bearing her name was neatly5 nailed thereon—was promptly6 answered, and Odd found himself face to face with a middle-aged7 maiden8 of the artistic9 type with which Paris swarms10; thin, gray-haired, energetic eyes behind eyeglasses, and a huge palette on her arm, so huge that it gave Odd the impression of a misshapen table and blocked the distance out with its brave array of color. Over the lady’s shoulder, Odd caught sight of a canvas of heroic proportions.
“Oh! I thought it was the concièrge,” said the artist, evidently disappointed; “have you come to the right door? I don’t think I know you.”
“No; I don’t know you,” Odd replied, smiling and casting a futile11 glance around the studio, now fully12 revealed by the shifting of the palette to a horizontal position.
“I expected to find Miss Archinard. Are you working with her? Will she be back presently?”
The gray-haired lady smiled an answering and explanatory smile.
“Miss Archinard rents me her studio in the afternoon. She only uses it in the morning; she is never here in the afternoon.”
Odd felt a huge astonishment13.
“Never here?”
“No; can I give her any message? I shall probably see her tomorrow if I come early enough.”
“Oh no, thanks. Thanks very much.” He realized that to reveal his dismay would stamp Hilda with an unpleasantly mysterious character.
“I shall see her this evening—at her mother’s. I am sorry to have interrupted you.”
“Oh! Don’t mention it!” The gray-haired lady still smiled kindly14; Peter touched his hat and descended15 the stairs. Perhaps she worked in a large atelier in the afternoon; strange that she had never mentioned it.
Madame Prinet, who had followed the visitor to the foot of the staircase and had located his errand, now stood in her door and surveyed his retreat with a fine air of impartiality16; people who consulted her need not mount staircases for nothing.
“Monsieur did not find Mademoiselle.”
Odd paused; he certainly would ask no questions of the concièrge, but she might, of her own accord, throw some light on Hilda’s devious17 ways.
“No; I had hoped to find her. Mademoiselle was in when I last called with her sister. I did not know that she went out every afternoon.”
Odd thought this tactful, implying, as it did, that Miss Archinard’s friends were not in ignorance of her habits.
“Every afternoon, monsieur; elle et son chien.”
“Ah, indeed!” Odd wished her good day and walked off. He had stumbled upon a mystery only Hilda herself might divulge18: it might be very simple, and yet a sense of anxiety weighed upon him.
At five he went to call on a pleasant and pretty woman, an American, who lived in the Boulevard Haussmann. He was to dine with the Archinards, and Katherine had said she might meet him at Mrs. Pope’s; if she were not there by five he need not wait for her. She was not there, and Mr. Pope took possession of him on his entrance and led him into the library to show him some new acquisitions in bindings. Mrs. Pope was not a grass widow, and her husband, a desultory19 dilettante20, was always in evidence in her graceful21, crowded salon22. He was a very tall, thin man, with white hair and a mild, almost timid manner, dashed with the collector’s eagerness.
“Now, Mr. Odd, I have a treasure here; really a perfect treasure. A genuine Grolier; I captured it at the La Hire sale. Just look here, please; come to the light. Isn’t that a beauty?”
Mrs. Pope, after a time, came and captured Peter; she did not approve of the hiding of her lion in the library. She took him into the drawing-room, where a great many people were drinking tea and talking, and he was passed dexterously23 from group to group; Mrs. Pope, gay and stout24, shuffling25 the pack and generously giving every one a glimpse of her trump26. It was a fatiguing27 process, and he was glad to find himself at last in Mrs. Pope’s undivided possession. He was sitting on a sofa beside her, talking and drinking a well-concocted cup of tea, when a picture on the opposite wall attracted his attention. He put down the cup of tea and put up his eyeglasses to look at it. A woman in a dress of Japanese blue, holding a paper fan; pink azaleas in the foreground. The decorative28 outline and the peculiar29 tonality made it unmistakable. He got up to look more closely. Yes, there was the delicate flowing signature: “Hilda Archinard.”
He turned to Mrs. Pope in pleased surprise.
“I didn’t know that Hilda had reached this degree of popularity. You are very lucky. Did she give it to you?”
Katherine’s engagement was generally known, and Mrs. Pope reproached herself for having failed to draw Mr. Odd’s attention before this to the work of his future sister.
“Oh no; she is altogether too distinguished30 a little person to give away her pictures. That was in the Champs de Mars last year. I bought it. The two others sold as well. I believe she sells most of her things; for high prices, too. Always the way, you know; a starving genius is allowed to starve, but material success comes to a pretty girl who doesn’t need it. Katherine is so well known in Paris that Hilda’s public was already made for her; there was no waiting for the appreciation31 that is her due. Her work is certainly charming.”
Peter felt a growing sense of anxiety. He could not share Mrs. Pope’s feeling of easy pleasantness. Hilda did need it. Certainly there was nothing pathetic in doing what she liked best and making money at it. Yet he wondered just how far Hilda’s earnings32 helped the family; kept the butcher and baker33 at bay. With a new keenness of conjecture34 he thought of the black serge dress; somewhere about Hilda’s artistic indifference35 there might well lurk36 a tragic37 element. Did she not really care to wear the amethyst38 velvets that her earnings perhaps went to provide? The vague distress39 that had never left him since his first disappointment at the Embassy dinner, that the afternoon’s discovery at the atelier had sharpened, now became acute.
“I always think it such a pretty compensation of Providence,” said Mrs. Pope, gracefully40 anxious to please, “that all the talent that Hilda Archinard expresses, puts on her canvas, is more personal in Katherine; is part of herself as it were, like a perfume about her.”
“Yes,” said Odd rather dully, not particularly pleased with the comparison.
“She is such a brilliant girl,” Mrs. Pope added, “such a splendid character. I can’t tell you how it delighted me to hear that Katherine had at last found the rare some one who could really appreciate her. It strengthened my pet theory of the fundamental fitness of things.”
“Yes,” Odd repeated, so vaguely41 that Mrs. Pope hurriedly wondered if she had been guilty of bad taste, and changed the subject.
When Peter reached the Archinards’ at half-past six that evening, he found the Captain and Mrs. Archinard alone in the drawing-room.
“Hilda not in yet?” he asked. His anxiety was so oppressive that he really could not forbear opening the old subject of grievance42. Indeed, Odd fancied that in Mrs. Archinard’s jeremiads there was an element of maternal43 solicitude44. That Hilda should voluntarily immolate45 herself, have no pretty dresses, show herself nowhere—these facts perhaps moved Mrs. Archinard as much as her own neglected condition. At least, so Peter charitably hoped, feeling almost cruel as he deliberately46 broached47 the painful subject.
Mrs. Archinard now gave a dismal48 sigh, and the Captain shook his head impatiently as he put down Le Temps.
Odd went on quite doggedly—
“I didn’t know that Hilda sold her pictures. I saw one of them at Mrs. Pope’s this afternoon.”
There could certainly be no indiscretion in the statement, for Mrs. Pope herself had mentioned the fact of Hilda’s success as well known. Indeed, although the Captain’s face showed an uneasy little change, Mrs. Archinard’s retained its undisturbed pathos49.
“Yes,” she said, “oh yes, Hilda has sold several things, I believe. She certainly needs the money. We are not rich people, Peter.” Mrs. Archinard had immediately adopted the affectionate intimacy50 of the Christian51 name. “And we could hardly indulge Hilda in her artistic career if, to some extent, she did not help herself. I fancy that Hilda makes few demands on her papa’s purse, and she must have many expenses. Models are expensive things, I hear. I cannot say that I rejoice in her success. It seems to justify52 her obstinacy—makes her independent of our desires—our requests.”
Odd felt that there was a depth of selfish ignorance in these remarks. The Captain’s purse he knew by experience to be very nearly mythical53, and the Captain’s expression at this moment showed to Peter’s sharpened apprehension54 an uncomfortable consciousness. Peter was convinced that, far from making demands on papa’s purse, Hilda had replenished55 it, and further conjectures56 as to Hilda’s egotistic one-sidedness began to shape themselves.
“And a very lucky girl she is to be able to make money so easily,” the Captain remarked, after a pause. “By Jove! I wish that doing what pleased me most would give me a large income!” and the Captain, who certainly had made most conscientious57 efforts to fulfil his nature, and had, at least, tried to do what most pleased him all his life long, and with the utmost energy, looked resentfully at his narrow well-kept finger-nails.
“Does she work all day long at her studio?” Peter asked, conscious of a certain hesitation58 in his voice. The mystery of Hilda’s afternoon absences would now be either solved or determined59. It was determined—definitely. There was no shade of suspicion in Mrs. Archinard’s sighing, “Dear me, yes!” or in the Captain’s, “From morning till night. Wears herself out.”
Hilda, all too evidently, had a secret.
“She ought to go to two studios, it would tire her less. Her own half the day, and a large atelier the other.” Assurance might as well be made doubly sure.
“Hilda left Julian’s a long time ago. She has lived in her own place since then, really lived there. I haven’t seen it; of course I could not attempt the stairs. Katherine tells me there are terrible stairs. Most shockingly unhealthy life she leads, I think, and most, most inconsiderate.”
At the dinner-table Odd knew that Hilda had only him to thank for the thorough “heckling” she received at the hands of both her parents. Her silence, with its element of vacant dulness, now admitted many interpretations60. It hedged round a secret unknown to either father or mother. Unknown to Katherine? Her grave air of aloofness61 might imply as much, or might mean only a natural disapproval62 of the scolding process carried on before her lover, a loyalty63 to Hilda that would ask no question and make no reproach.
“Any one would tell you, Hilda, that it is positively64 not decent in Paris for a young girl to be out alone after dusk,” said the Captain. “Odd will tell you so; he was speaking about it only this evening. You must come home earlier; I insist upon it.”
Odd sat opposite to her, and Hilda raised her eyes and met his.
He smiled gravely at her, and shook his head.
“Naughty little Hilda!” but his voice expressed all the tender sympathy the very sight of her roused in him, and Hilda smiled back faintly.
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1
spaciously
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| adv.宽敞地；广博地 | |
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slur
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| v.含糊地说；诋毁；连唱；n.诋毁；含糊的发音 | |
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3
unemployed
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| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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9
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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10
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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11
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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12
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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13
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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14
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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15
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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16
impartiality
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| n. 公平, 无私, 不偏 | |
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17
devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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18
divulge
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| v.泄漏(秘密等)；宣布，公布 | |
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19
desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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20
dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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22
salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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23
dexterously
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| adv.巧妙地，敏捷地 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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26
trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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27
fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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28
decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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29
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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30
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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31
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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32
earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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34
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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35
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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36
lurk
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| n.潜伏，潜行；v.潜藏，潜伏，埋伏 | |
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37
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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38
amethyst
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| n.紫水晶 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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40
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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41
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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42
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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43
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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44
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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45
immolate
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| v.牺牲 | |
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46
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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47
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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48
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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49
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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50
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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51
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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52
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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53
mythical
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| adj.神话的；虚构的；想像的 | |
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54
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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55
replenished
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| 补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 )； 重新装满 | |
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56
conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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57
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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58
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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60
interpretations
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| n.解释( interpretation的名词复数 )；表演；演绎；理解 | |
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61
aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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62
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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63
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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64
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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