It was in her dressing2-room at the theatre—the marvellous dressing-room which Belloc had engaged Herté to re-decorate as a tribute and a surprise to the star. The stage curtain had rung down on the last act, after eighteen recalls and a little laughing, hysterical3 speech from Dolores. Sheridan and Belloc had both kissed her; and everyone had cried, and her mother had torn her from clinging arms, to shut the dressing-room door upon a dozen faces.
Sudden peace followed clamour. There was not a sound. The air was sweet with the breath of a thousand flowers. Céline moved softly about, with stolid4 face. Mrs. Sorel beamed.
"Well, yes, dear; I do think you may be happy now," she vouchsafed5.
Marise caught the "second meaning"—the little more than met the ear—hiding in her mother's words. Mums hadn't been easy about Severance6. She'd thought he had "something on his mind." She had even been afraid that, although he was following the girl he loved from London to New York, he didn't mean marriage. She had feared, and almost expected, that he might break to Marise the news of his engagement to another woman—a very different woman from the pretty actress. But that time of Mum's depression had been on shipboard. Severance had "broken" no news. He had been more devoted7 than ever before. He had curtailed8 his official business in Washington, and rushed back to New York for the first night of "The Song," so now Mrs. Sorel began to hope that for once her "instinct" had been a deceiving Voice.
"Yes, happy about everything," she added, so that Marise might understand without the maid sharing her enlightenment.
"I am, just that!" agreed Marise, stealing time to breathe before Céline should take off Dolores' "bedroom-scene" dress.
She looked round the room. It had been decorated by the Russian-French artist, Herté (who had never seen her), to suit Sargent's portrait which Belloc had lent him to study. In the girl's opinion it did not suit her at all, unless she were in reality a tigress camouflaged9 to represent a sheaf of lilies. But evidently that was what Herté thought she was, and his conception of her temperament10 made the girl feel subtle and mysterious. She adored feeling like that, and she adored Herté's tawny11 orange splashes on violent blues12, and his sombre blacks and dazzling whites and lemon yellows, which somehow did not fade her sunlight fairness. People knew about this room, for descriptions and photographs of it had appeared in all the papers since she and Mums landed; consequently everyone had sent flowers to match Herté's famous colourings.
There were silver azaleas, black tulips, queer scarlet13 roses, Japanese tiger lilies, weird14 magenta15 orchids16, and purple pinks. Severance had sent blue lilies—the blue that Marise loved, and called "the colour of her soul." The lilies had been the best of the huge collection, until the Exciting Thing came—the thing accompanied by no letter, no card. Towards this object the eyes of Marise travelled. She had been "intrigued17" by it the whole evening, whenever she had time to think, and puzzle over its charm and mystery.
"It" was a table; a small, round tea-table of rich red mahogany with a well in its centre for flowers, and small holes in a line circling its edge for the same purpose. These receptacles were filled and hidden with the largest, purplest, and most fragrant18 violets Marise had ever seen, and their amethyst19 tones, massed against the dark, rose-brown wood, produced an exquisite20 effect. Marise believed herself an up-to-date young woman, and her Persian dressing-room in London had rivalled Lily Brayton's Chinese room during the run of "Chu Chin Chow." But she had never heard of such a design as this in tables. It must be the newest of the new, and invented by a great artist, she thought. In fear of seeming ignorant, she had asked no questions of anyone, hoping to glean21 information by luck: and vanity, as usual with her, had its own reward.
"By George, who sent you Herté's latest?" Belloc had exclaimed, when he bounced into her room before the first act to see if his star were "going strong."
Marise had to admit that she didn't know. But she put on an air of awareness22 as to Herté. This was the sort of thing her mother taught her: to seem innocent, but never ignorant—especially of anything "smart." Mrs. Sorel had suggested that Herté himself might have contributed the lovely specimen23 of his work, to complete the decoration of the room. Belloc, however, had vetoed this idea. If there were no accompanying poem, or at least a card, Herté wasn't guilty. He was not a young man who bothered to blush unseen. So that hypothesis was "off"; and Marise could think of no one among her acquaintances likely to spend so much cash without getting credit.
Belloc was giving a supper for her after the theatre, and Herté was there; a dark, haggardly beautiful young man who looked as if he had detached himself from one of his own wall decorations. Belloc had placed him next the star, not knowing whether Marise were really engaged to Lord Severance or not; and the first question the girl asked was about the table.
"Ah, you have my beloved violet-table!" he said, looking at her in the way he had with beautiful young women: stripping her with his eyes and dressing her all over again in a gown of his own creation. "I am glad—glad."
"You didn't know?"
He shook his head until a black lock fell over his pale forehead. "I did not. It was finished by the glorified24 cabinet-maker I employ: it appeared in the window of my place. You must see my place, now your rehearsals25 are over! You will want beauty to rest your mind—and you will want Me to design your dresses! An hour later the table was snapped up—gone from me forever."
"Ah, but who snapped it?"
Herté looked blank. "Your admiring friend, who knew it belonged, by right of beauty, to you."
"Thanks! But I want you to tell me his—or her—name."
"Are you not acquainted with so much of him?"
"I'm not. And I'm dying to be, because the gentleman is anonymous26—a great unknown!"
"I am sure he is great, as a judge of art and ladies. But that is all I am sure of, beautiful Dolores."
"Monsieur Herté, you are hiding his secret!"
"I could hide no secret from you. I will tell you all I know. A boy messenger bought the table. A millionaire's boy messenger, perhaps! My manager informed me what had happened. We guessed at once there was a mystery."
"Couldn't you find out?" Marise persisted.
Herté shrugged27 his sloping shoulders. "Beyond a boy messenger no man can go. He keeps the gate with a flaming sword. But you will find out some day. Meanwhile, be content. You have the latest creation of my brain—of my heart. At present it is the one thing of its kind in existence."
Mrs. Sorel asked Severance if he had sent the table, which, she explained, Marise had found in her dressing-room on arriving there. It had been brought to the theatre by two boy messengers, full of flowers (not the boys, but the table), and no word had been left whence it came. Severance, bitterly jealous of the secret gift (which had, so to speak, taken all the blue paint off his Persian lilies), would gladly have claimed credit had he dared. But the real giver might announce himself at any moment, and be able to prove his bona fides: so Severance made a virtue28 of necessity. Belloc's supper-party was a "frost" for him, though he sat by the second prettiest girl. He hated Herté and the others, especially a millionaire member of New York's "Four Hundred," who was financially interested in Belloc's schemes—and in his leading ladies.
Severance would have given anything—short of his title and estates, and such money as came with them—to snatch the girl from all the men, who would go on admiring and making love to her when he was far away. He did not know how he could bear to turn his back and leave her to these Americans, who had so much money and so much "cheek." He felt as if he were throwing her to the lions—this exquisite morsel29 which he coveted30 for himself, but was unlikely to get on the terms he could offer. Almost, he wished that he had told her the truth in London, and said good-bye to her then. Almost, but not quite; for he simply had not been able to let her go like that. He had to be with her: he had to see the sort of men she would gather round her on the other side of the world.
Well, he had come; and he had seen; and he had made things harder for himself instead of easier. He did not know what he should do next. An arrangement, a compromise, must be thought of. When he spoke31, he must have something to propose—some alternative or other. But what under heaven, or in hell, it could be, he had no clear inspiration yet.
Marise ordered the violet-table to be taken from the theatre to the Plaza32 Hotel, where she and her mother had a suite33. She thought it would give her more pleasure there, where much of her time was passed, and the wonderful violets had not lost their freshness: they were so firm and vital that they looked as if they would never fade. But on the second night of "The Song," when Marise arrived in her dressing-room, another anonymous gift awaited her.
It was smaller than the table, but not less original; a black bowl, half full of water bright and pale green as aquamarines, on the surface of which floated three pink pond-lilies. The bowl stood on the star's dressing-table, and, switching on the electric lights, a gleam as of drowned emeralds sparkled under the lilies. Marise cried out in delight, and ran to look for a card. This time he would reveal himself! (She knew it was "he," and that it was the same man who had sent the table.) But no. There was neither card nor note. Messenger boys had brought the bowl. They had driven up in a taxi. If only Marise had dreamed of receiving a second gift from the same source, she would have watched—or even employed a detective. She was so excited and curious that she feared for her acting34 that night.
With the bowl and the lilies had come a large jar of crystals for tinting35 the water: green, glittering lumps, like precious stones from Aladdin's Cave, and that was precisely36 the label on the jar of jewels: "Aladdin's Cave." Marise was childishly thrilled. When Belloc peeped in, she showed her treasures, and learned that "Aladdin's Cave" was the name chosen by a queer artist, new, but famous already for his exhibition-shop in a cellar of that Bohemian haunt known as Greenwich Village.
Next morning the girl went there in a taxi: and when she had bought exotic enamels37, and transparent38 vases filled with synthetic39 sapphires40, she told "Aladdin" about the bowl. Like Herté, he shook his head. He was but another man who "could not go beyond a District messenger boy."
The stage door-keeper was now warned to find out what he could, if another anonymous gift appeared. Also, Céline was sent early to the theatre. Marise could not, however, quite bring herself to engage a detective. She was tempted41 to do so, and urged by her mother, who had visions of a mysterious millionaire ready to take the place of Severance if the Englishman failed after all. But the girl felt that to set sleuth-hounds on its track would kill romance. It would, she told Mums, be like deliberately42 rubbing the bloom off hothouse grapes before you ate them. And as it turned out, she was glad she had listened to sentiment; for on the third night her only offerings were chocolates and flowers ticketed conspicuously43 with their givers' names.
This was like a too abrupt44 ending to a fairy tale. But, after all, it was only the end of a chapter. On the fourth night a long blue-and-silver box lay across two chairs in the dressing-room. It looked like a box from a smart dressmaker, though no dressmaker's name was visible. "Has Mademoiselle ordered anything?" Céline inquired, as she untied45 the ribbon-fastenings.
No, Mademoiselle had ordered nothing that day—at least nothing for the theatre. She gave a little gasp46 as the Frenchwoman removed the box cover and a layer of silver-stencilled blue tissue paper. Underneath47 filmed a pale blue cloud which Marise snatched up and pronounced to be a "boudoir gown." It was made from a material which fashion names mousseline de soie one year and something else another. It was the blue of bluebells48, banded with swansdown and embroidered49 with silver thistles. Altogether, it might have been created expressly for Miss Sorel by an admiring genius.
"From Herté!" exclaimed Mums.
But Marise knew better, and would pit her own "instinct" against her mother's any day. "No, from Him," she pronounced. "If this goes on much longer without my finding out who He is, I shall simply perish."
And it did go on: not night after night, but stopping, and beginning again just as she thought the giver's invention exhausted50 or his pockets empty. It went on for ten days, until Marise had received, in addition to the three first gifts, an ancient Italian mirror in a carved silver frame; an exquisite wax doll, modelled and dressed to represent herself as "Dolores" in the third act of "The Spring Song," and an old Sèvres box filled with crystallised violets—evidently his favoured flower.
"He must be rich, or else he's poor, and so in love that he's absolutely beggaring himself for you," said Mrs. Sorel.
Marise volunteered no opinion. But secretly she preferred the second hypothesis. She was used to rich men; but no girl is ever really used to Romance. The mystery thrilled and delighted her, and bored Severance to distraction51. He realised that, if he said to the girl what he had to say while this spell was upon her, she might let him go with hardly a pang52, instead of clinging to him at almost any price. So he did not say it. He waited, and sent several cables to his mother's half-brother, Constantine Ionides, one of the richest bankers in Europe. In the first of these telegrams he stated that he had influenza53, and might not be allowed to travel for several weeks, but, as soon as he could, he would return to London. This, because he had come to a certain understanding with his half-uncle before undertaking54 the American "mission," and because Mr. Ionides unluckily knew that the unimportant mission was now wound up.
At the end of ten days the girl decided55 upon a desperate step, for she felt that "Dolores" as well as Marise Sorel was beginning to suffer from curiosity deferred56. She forgot to take a cue on the night of the doll; and at home, after she had been in bed an hour, she suddenly sat up and switched on the light. On a table within reach of her hand were paper and envelopes, and a gold fountain-pen given her by Severance. Quickly she wrote out a paragraph which she had composed in the sleepless57 hours; and without a word to Mums (sure to disapprove) she gave it very early next morning to Céline with instructions.
That evening, in some of the New York papers, and the following day in all those which had "personal" columns, her paragraph appeared. "Dolores thanks the anonymous friend who has sent her six charming gifts in ten days, and begs that he or she will make an appointment to call at her hotel as soon as possible, in order that Dolores may express her pleasure and gratitude58 by word of mouth."
When Marise read this appeal in print her heart beat in her throat, and she was dreadfully afraid that her mother or Severance might happen to glance down that column. But she was even more afraid that the person to whom it was addressed might not.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
physically
|
|
| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
hysterical
|
|
| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
stolid
|
|
| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
vouchsafed
|
|
| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
severance
|
|
| n.离职金；切断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
curtailed
|
|
| v.截断，缩短( curtail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
camouflaged
|
|
| v.隐蔽( camouflage的过去式和过去分词 )；掩盖；伪装，掩饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
tawny
|
|
| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
blues
|
|
| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
weird
|
|
| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
magenta
|
|
| n..紫红色（的染料）；adj.紫红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
orchids
|
|
| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
intrigued
|
|
| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
fragrant
|
|
| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
amethyst
|
|
| n.紫水晶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
glean
|
|
| v.收集(消息、资料、情报等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
awareness
|
|
| n.意识，觉悟，懂事，明智 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
specimen
|
|
| n.样本，标本 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
glorified
|
|
| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
rehearsals
|
|
| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
anonymous
|
|
| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
morsel
|
|
| n.一口，一点点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
coveted
|
|
| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
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： |
|
|
|
|
32
plaza
|
|
| n.广场，市场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
suite
|
|
| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
tinting
|
|
| 着色，染色（的阶段或过程） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
enamels
|
|
| 搪瓷( enamel的名词复数 )； 珐琅； 釉药； 瓷漆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
transparent
|
|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
synthetic
|
|
| adj.合成的，人工的；综合的；n.人工制品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
sapphires
|
|
| n.蓝宝石，钢玉宝石( sapphire的名词复数 )；蔚蓝色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
conspicuously
|
|
| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
abrupt
|
|
| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
untied
|
|
| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
underneath
|
|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
bluebells
|
|
| n.圆叶风铃草( bluebell的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
embroidered
|
|
| adj．绣花的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
distraction
|
|
| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
pang
|
|
| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
influenza
|
|
| n.流行性感冒，流感 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
undertaking
|
|
| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
deferred
|
|
| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
sleepless
|
|
| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |