Never before had he felt less at home, never more ill at ease in the homely10 solitude11 of his workshop and lodgings12.
As for his work.... He found page 6 of that promising13 young first act in the typewriter carriage, precisely14 as it had been left on his receipt of Helena's peremptory15 telegram. Removing the sheet, he turned back to the first page, and read what had been written with such high and eager hope; and looked his dashed bewilderment. Knitting portentous16 brows, sedulously17 he reconsidered the manuscript at length; then with a groan18 put it aside, ran fingers through his hair till it rose rampant19, and sat scowling20 darkly at the wall, groping blindly and vainly for the lost ends of that snapped thread of enthusiasm.
The first flush of confidence vanished, what he had written owned heart-rending incoherence in his understanding.
However (he assured himself) it would come back to him in time. Indeed, it was bound to. It wasn't the first time this sort of thing had happened to him, nor yet the second: he was no raw novice22 to cry despair over such an everyday set-back.
But what the devil was the matter with him? All the way to Town he had been full of his theme, as keen-set for work as a schoolboy for a holiday, and hardly less for the well-worn comforts of his abode23. And, lo! here sat he with his head as empty as his hands, and that misfit feeling badgering him to exasperation24.
Instinctively25 he consulted a pipe and, through its atmosphere, the view from his windows: the never-failing, tried and true, enheartening monotony of that sun-scorched area of back-yards, grim and unlovely in the happiest weather, cat-haunted and melancholy27 in all its phases.... But today he essayed vainly to distil28 from contemplation of it any of the rare glamour29 of yesterday's zeal30 and faith. It was all gone, all! and the erratic31 mind of him would persist in trailing off after errant thoughts of Venetia Tankerville.
Surpassing inconsistency of the human heart! Three hours ago, in her company, he had been able to control and to behave himself, to anticipate with pleasure the prospect32 of returning to his desk after escorting her from the Pennsylvania to the Grand Central Station and putting her aboard the train for Greenwich, whither she was bound for a fortnight's visit. But now—he could think of nothing but Venetia: Venetia's eyes, her scarlet33 lips, her exquisite34 hands, her hair of bronze; her moods and whims35, her laughter and her pensiveness36, alike adorable; Venetia in evening dress on the moon-drenched terrace of Tanglewood; Venetia on the tennis-courts, all in white, glorified37 by sunlight, an amazingly spirited, victorious38 figure; Venetia with her hair blown across her eyes, at the wheel of one of Tankerville's racing39 motor-craft; Venetia in the gloom of the Grand Central Station, lingering to say good-bye to her betrothed40....
It required several days for this stupid gentleman to awaken41 to the fact that the name of his trouble was merely love; that an acknowledged lover is a person vastly different from a diffident and distant worshipper; that, in short, the muse42 of the creative fancy is a jealous mistress, prone43 to sulk and deny the light of her countenance44 to a suitor who thinks to share his addresses with another.
But this illuminating45 discovery did little to allay46 his discontent: progress with his work alone could accomplish that; and the work dragged dolefully; he scored only dismal47 failures in his efforts to produce something to satisfy himself. And he had only six months to prove his worth. The date of their marriage had been fixed48 for February; every detail of their plans had been worked out under the masterful guidance of Helena; even the steamer upon which they were to sail for Egypt had been selected and their suite49 reserved.
In short he positively50 had to win out within the allotted51 period of grace, who seemed able only to sit there, day in and out, beside his typewriter, with idle hands, or, with a vacant mind, to pace his trail of torment1 from door to window: getting nowhere, stripped of every vestige52 of his arduously53 acquired craftsmanship54.... It was maddening.
None the less, doggedly55, savagely56 determined57 to overcome this sentimental58 handicap, he worked long hours: only to review the outcome of his labours with a sinking heart. For all his knowledge of the stage, for all that a long career of failures and half-hearted successes had taught him, the play that slowly took shape under his modelling lacked vitality—the living fire of drama. Technically59 he could find no disastrous60 fault with it; but in his soul he knew it to be as passionless as a proposition in Euclid.
He was a dreamer, but not even the stuff of dreams could dull the clear perceptions of his critical intelligence....
Meantime, the superficial routine of work-a-day life went on much as it had ever since he had set up shop in the establishment of Madame Duprat. His breakfasts were served him in his rooms; for his other meals he foraged61 in neighbouring restaurants. A definite amount of exercise was required to keep him in working trim. In short, he was in and out of the house several times each day. Inevitably62, then, he encountered fellow lodgers63, either on the stoop or in the hallway; among them, and perhaps more often and less adventitiously64 than in other instances, one wistful young woman, shabbily dressed, in whose brown eyes lurked65 a hesitant appeal for recognition. He grew acquainted with the sight of her, but he was generally in haste and preoccupied66, looked over her head if not through her, stepped civilly out of her way and went absently his own, and never once dreamed of identifying her with that dreary67 and damp creature of the rain-swept night whose necessity had turned him out of his lodgings for a single night.
One day—the second Thursday following his return to Town—he found himself waiting in the lobby of the Knickerbocker, a trifle early for a luncheon68 engagement with Rideout and his producing manager, Wilbrow: a meeting arranged for the purpose of discussing the forthcoming production of "The Jade70 God." The day was seasonably insufferable with heat, but there was here a grateful drift of air through open doors and windows. Lounging in an arm-chair, he lazily consumed a cigarette and reviewed the listless ebb71 and flow of guests with a desultory72 interest which was presently, suddenly, and rudely quickened.
Marbridge, accompanied by a woman, was leaving the eastern dining-room. They passed so near to Matthias that by stretching forth69 his foot he could have touched the woman's skirt. But she did not see him; her face was averted73 as she looked up, faintly smiling, to the face of her companion. Marbridge, on his part, was attending her with that slightly exaggerated attitude of solicitude74 and devotion which was peculiarly his with all women. If he saw Matthias he made no sign. His dark and boyish eyes ogled75 his companion; his tone was pitched low to a key of intimacy76; he rolled a trifle in his walk, with the insuppressible swagger of the amateur of gallantry.
They passed on and out of the hotel; and Matthias saw the carriage-porter, at a sign from Marbridge, whistle in a taxicab.
He turned away in disgust.
A moment or so later he looked up to find Marbridge standing21 over him and grinning impudently77 as he offered a hand.
"Why, how do you do, Matthias, my boy?"
His voice, by no means subdued78, echoed through the lobby and attracted curious glances.
Matthias, ignoring the hand, lifted one of his own in a gesture deprecatory.
"Softly!" he begged. "Somebody might hear you."
Unabashed, Marbridge dropped into the chair beside him. "How's that? Why shouldn't they?"
"They might make the mistake of inferring that I liked you," returned Matthias.
Marbridge, on the point of settling back, sat up with a start. A dull colour flushed his plump, dark cheeks. For an instant his hands twitched79 nervously80 and his full lips tightened81 on a retort which he presumably deemed inadvisable; for mastering his impulse, he sank back again, and put a period to the display with a brief but not uneasy chuckle82.
"You're all there with the acidulated repartee," he observed appreciatively. "Some class to your work, my boy!" To which, Matthias making no comment, he added with at least some effort toward an appearance of sincerity83: "Sorry you feel that way about me."
"Unfortunately, I do."
"Because I wouldn't act on your suggestion about that time-table, eh?"
"Because of the circumstances which moved me to drop that hint."
A brief silence prefaced Marbridge's next remark:
"But damn it! I couldn't. It would've made talk if I'd pulled out when you wanted me to."
"There would have been no occasion for any talk whatever if you'd known how to comport84 yourself as the guest of decent people."
And still Marbridge husbanded his resentment85.
"Oh well!" he said, aggrieved—"women!"
Matthias threw away his cigarette and prepared to rise.
"Hold on a bit," Marbridge checked him. "I want to ask a favour of you.... Of course, you're right; I am a bad actor, and all that. I'm sorry I forgot myself at Tanglewood—word of honour, I am!"
"Well?" Matthias suggested with an unmoved face.
"Look here...." Marbridge sat up eagerly. "I think you're a mighty86 good sort—"
"Thanks!"
"You didn't blow about that business down there—"
"I couldn't very well—could I?—with a woman involved!"
"Oh, you did the white thing: I'm not disputing that. But what I'm worried about now is whether you're as good a sport as you seem."
"Meaning—?"
Marbridge nodded significantly toward the sidewalk, where he had put his late companion into the cab. "About today: you won't find it necessary to—?"
"By God!" Matthias's indignation brimmed over. "If you're so solicitous87 of the woman's good name, why the devil do you allow her to be seen in your company?"
"It isn't that," Marbridge persisted, keeping himself well in hand. "After all, what's a lunch at the Knick?"
"Well—?"
"The trouble is, she's supposed to be at Newport. Majendie doesn't know—"
"You just can't help being a blackguard, can you, Marbridge?" Matthias enquired88 curiously89. "You ought to have bitten off your tongue before you named a name in a public place like this." He rose, meeting with steady eyes the vicious glare of the other. "One word more: if I hear of your accepting another invitation to Tanglewood, I'll forget to be what you call 'a good sport'."
Marbridge jumped up hotly. "Look here!" he said in accents that, though guarded, trembled, "I've been mighty patient with your insolence90, and I'm certainly not going to forget myself here. But if you want to make a book on it, I'll lay you any odds91 you like that I'll be received at Tanglewood within the year, and you won't say one single damn' word. Do you make me?"
Matthias looked him up and down, smiled quietly, swung on his heel, and moved across the lobby to greet Rideout and Wilbrow.
His instinctive26 inclination92 to dismiss altogether from his mind a subject so distasteful was helped out by a conference which outlasted93 luncheon, involved dinner with the two men of the theatre, and was only concluded in Matthias's rooms shortly after midnight.
Wilbrow, considering the play from the point of view of him upon whom devolved all responsibility for the manner of its presentation (the scene painting alone excepted) and gifted with that intuitive sense du théatre singular to men of his vocation94, who very nearly monopolize95 the intelligence concerned with the American stage today—Wilbrow had uncovered a slight, by no means damning, flaw in the construction of the third act, and had a remedy to suggest. This, adopted without opposition96 from the playwright97, suggested further alterations98 which Matthias could not deny were calculated to strengthen the piece. In consequence, when at length they left him, he found himself committed to a virtual rewriting of the last two acts entire.
Groaning99 in resignation, he resolved to accomplish the revision in one week of solid, uninterrupted labour, and went to bed, rising the next morning to deny himself his correspondence and the newspapers and to make arrangements with Madame Duprat to furnish all his meals until his task was finished. These matters settled, and his telephone temporarily silenced, he began work and, forgetful of the world, plodded100 faithfully on by day and night until late Thursday afternoon, when he drew the final page from his typewriter, thrust it with its forerunners101 into an envelope addressed to Rideout, entrusted102 this last to a messenger, and threw himself upon the couch to drop off instantly into profound slumbers103 of exhaustion104.
At ten o'clock that night he was awakened105 and sat up, dazed and blinking in a sudden glare of gas-light.
Stupidly, bemused with the slowly settling dust of dreams, he stared, incredulous of the company in which he found himself.
Madame Duprat, having shown his callers in and made a light for them, was discreetly106 departing. George Tankerville, whose vigorous methods had roused Matthias, stood over him, with a look of deep and sympathetic anxiety clouding his round, commonplace, friendly countenance. Wearing a dinner jacket together with linen107 motor-cap and duster, oil-stained gauntlets on his hands, with an implacable impatience108 betrayed in his very pose, he cut a figure sufficiently109 striking instantly to engage attention—the unexpectedness of his call aside. Furthermore, he was accompanied by his wife: Helena, in a costume as unconventional as her husband's, stood at a little distance, regarding Matthias with much the same look of consternation110 and care.
"Great Scott!" Matthias exclaimed, pulling his wits together. "You are a sudden pair of people!" With a shrug111 and a sour smile he deprecated his clothing, which consisted solely112 of a shirt, linen trousers, and a pair of antiquated113 slippers114. "If you'd only given me some warning, I'd've tried to dress up to your elegance," he went on.
"Damn your clothes!" Tankerville exploded. He dropped a hand on Matthias's shoulder and swung him round to the light. "Tell us you're all right—that's all we want to know!"
"All right?" Matthias looked from one to the other, deeply perplexed115. "Why, of course I'm all right. Why not?"
With a little gasp116 of relief, Helena dropped into a chair. Tankerville removed his hand and leaned against the table, smiling foolishly.
"That's all right, then," he said. "We tried to get you on the telephone all afternoon, failed, were afraid you'd done something foolish, and took a run in to town to make sure."
"What the dickens are you driving at?" Matthias demanded. "I had my telephone cut off the other day because I was working and didn't want to be interrupted. I do that frequently. Why not? What's got into you two, anyway? Have you gone dotty?"
"No," Helena replied with a grim, pale smile; "We're sane117 enough—and thank Heaven you are! But Venetia—"
"Venetia!" Matthias cried. "What about Venetia?"
Tankerville avoiding his eye, it devolved upon Helena to respond to Matthias's frantic118 and imperative119 look.
"Venetia," she said reluctantly—"Venetia eloped with Marbridge day before yesterday—Tuesday. She came in town in the morning to do some shopping, met him and was married to him at the City Hall. They sailed on the Mauretania yesterday. The papers didn't get hold of it—we knew nothing!—till this afternoon. I was afraid she might have written you and you—in despair—"
Her voice broke.
After a little, Matthias turned to a heap of unopened correspondence on a side table and ran rapidly through it, examining only the addresses.
"No," he said presently, in a level tone: "no—she didn't trouble to write me."
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1
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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trespasser
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| n.侵犯者；违反者 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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16
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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sedulously
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| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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distil
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| vt.蒸馏；提取…的精华，精选出 | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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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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WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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pensiveness
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| n.pensive（沉思的）的变形 | |
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glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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45
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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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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48
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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49
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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50
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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51
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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53
arduously
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| adv.费力地，严酷地 | |
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54
craftsmanship
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| n.手艺 | |
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55
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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56
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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57
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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58
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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59
technically
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| adv.专门地，技术上地 | |
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60
disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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61
foraged
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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62
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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63
lodgers
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| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
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64
adventitiously
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| adj.偶然的；外来的；偶生的；后天的 | |
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65
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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66
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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67
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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68
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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69
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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70
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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71
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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ogled
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| v.（向…）抛媚眼，送秋波( ogle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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impudently
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subdued
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| 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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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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82
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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83
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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comport
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| vi.相称，适合 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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outlasted
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| v.比…长久，比…活得长( outlast的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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monopolize
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| v.垄断，独占，专营 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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playwright
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| n.剧作家，编写剧本的人 | |
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alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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forerunners
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| n.先驱( forerunner的名词复数 )；开路人；先兆；前兆 | |
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102
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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104
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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107
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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108
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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109
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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111
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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112
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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113
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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114
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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115
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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116
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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118
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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119
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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