‘He is not such a lad,’ said Miss Jane, ‘and his beard has been come this twelvemonth at least; but I never thought it would last very long. I hate amateurs.’ For all that, however, she would look up and nod at Laurie, when she came home early and the young man appeared at his window. As the days went on old Miss Hadley found her life quite bright{283}ened up by the new neighbour, whose proceedings37 she watched with so good-humoured an interest.
‘He had Shaw the Guardsman to sit to him to-day,’ was her next report; ‘and dreadfully bored the poor boy did look to be sure. I saw the warrior38 go away, and then our friend stepped out on his balcony and yawned as if his head would have come off.’ Next time the report was of a different character. ‘The boy is getting used to us,’ the old lady said; ‘he has been buying some plants for his window. He stood a long time to-day and watched the Jenkinses getting into their dog-cart. He took off his hat, my dear, when he was going out, when he saw me come to the window. He knows I am your sister, I suppose.’
‘I do not admire his taste watching the Jenkinses,’ said Miss Jane, with a momentary39 frown of jealousy40. She would have been very indignant had any one called her a match-maker, and yet almost without knowing it there had come into her head a little plan about Laurie and ‘the child.’
‘Bless you, he was only amusing himself,’ said the elder sister. ‘I have no doubt it looked very funny to him,—and the fuss and the cloaks, and the bottles sticking out of the basket. They were going to see their married sister at Battersea, my dear. Her husband is a coal-merchant, and I believe they are very well to do. But I am very glad, I must say, that Mr. Renton went opposite to live, and not{284} at the Jenkinses. So many girls in a house when people let lodgings41 is not nice; a young man may be inveigled42 before he knows; and Mrs. Robinson is a very respectable sort of a person; I am very glad he has gone there.’
‘I daresay he thinks it miserable43 enough,’ said the governess. These little talks occurred every evening; and though Miss Hadley did not confide44 all the vicissitudes45 of Laurie’s life to Mrs. Severn, yet the main incidents became generally known ‘in the Square.’ They knew that Shaw had been sitting to him, and that he had been bored, and the incident afforded no small amusement to a circle of admiring friends.
‘It must be Miss Hadley who has betrayed me,’ said Laurie; ‘the fellow has such heaps of talk. I declare I know everything about his family, from the first of his name down to his sister’s little Polly. Little Polly it was. And if a man may not be permitted to yawn after two hours of that——’
‘A man might be permitted to yawn in the midst of it,’ said the padrona, ‘which I am sure you didn’t. But it was droll46 to rush out into your balcony, and relieve yourself as soon as he was gone.’
‘There is no air in that little hole of a place,’ said Laurie; and then he bethought himself that the other people about him were all of them inmates47 of similar holes. ‘I mean it’s very nice, you know,’ he added, ‘and close to everything,—schools, and{285} British Museum, and everything a man can desire. But I am very fond of as much air as I can get.’
‘I always thought this was a very airy neighbourhood,’ said little Mrs. Suffolk, who lived in another of the streets near Fitzroy Square, ‘and so handy for the children, in five minutes they can be in the Park.’
‘One gets never to listen to those fellows,’ said her husband; ‘if you take an interest in them they go and make money of you. Their wives are always ill, and their children dying, and that sort of thing. Glossop’s got your old rooms over at Kensington, do you know, Renton? And come out no end of a swell48. I don’t know why, I am sure, unless that he has a friend on the “Sword.”’
‘Not so bad as that,’ said Laurie. ‘Those were two very pretty pictures of his this year.’
‘Oh, ah, pretty enough,’ said the other; ‘if that is all you want in a picture. British taste! But I’d like to know what sort of people they must be who like to hang these eternal simperings on their walls. I believe there are heaps of men who don’t care twopence for art. But to choose bad art where good is to be had, out of mere49 perverseness50!—I don’t believe in that. They pin their faith on the “Sword,” and the “Sword” lies and cheats right and left, and looks after its own friends; and the British public pays the piper. When one thinks of Glossop, that{286} one has known all over the world, in Laurie Renton’s pretty rooms at Kensington Gore!’
‘And Laurie here!’ said the padrona, ‘which is great luck for us. But, my friend, you are mistaken. There are heaps of people, as you say, who prefer bad art to good. It is of no use pretending to deny it;—and,’ Mrs. Severn added with a little sigh, ‘we all trade upon it, I fear, if the truth were told.’
‘No, indeed, I am sure not that,’ said the painter’s wife. ‘There stands one who never does, I say to him a hundred times, “Reginald dear, do think of a popular subject; do paint something for common sort of folks!”—but he never will. They say it is only the nouveaux riches that buy now-a-days,’ Mrs. Suffolk continued in injured tones, ‘or dealers; and we know nobody who writes on the “Sword.” You do, of course, Mr. Renton,—you have been so much in the world.’
‘I met Slasher the other day at the club,’ said Laurie, with a laugh which he could only half restrain. ‘He is not such a bad fellow. If you will let Suffolk bring you to my little place some time, I will show him to you. He does not bite in private life.’
‘Oh, I don’t know that I should like to meet such a man,’ the little woman said, with an anxious glance at her husband; and then she took Laurie a step aside, and became confidential51. ‘If you would but make Reginald and him friends, Mr. Renton! I don’t mind speaking to you. Nobody knows what talent{287} Reginald has; and I am so afraid he will get soured with never finding an opening; and he can’t afford to keep up a club like you young men, and we have been so much out of the world. What does it matter studying nature and studying the great masters, and staying out of London till everybody forgets you?’ the poor young woman continued, with tears in her eyes. She was young, and it was hard upon her to keep from crying when she met Laurie’s sympathetic look. ‘It is not so much the money I am thinking of,’ she said; ‘but if Reginald were to get soured——’
‘I’ll get Slasher to meet him directly,’ said Laurie, with eager promptitude; ‘and you may be sure everything I can do——’
‘Oh, thanks!’ said the painter’s wife. ‘It is not that he wants any favour, Mr. Renton, but only an opening; and we have been so much out of the world.’
‘I wonder you don’t get up a Trades-union, and make a stand,’ said Mrs. Thurston, who was literary. ‘How anything can keep alive that is so badly written as the “Sword,” I don’t know. It is because you are all so eager to see what it says about you, even though you hate it. Just like the articles in all the papers about women! If women were not so curious to see “what’s next,” do you think any one would take the trouble to write all that? Don’t mind it, and you take away its power.’
‘Ah, it is so easy for you,’ cried Mrs. Suffolk;{288}—‘you have nothing to do but to go to your publisher; but what with the Hanging Committee putting all their friends on the line, and those wicked papers that never think of merit, but only of some one the writers know——’
‘That’s enough, Helen,’ said her husband, with an attempt at a smile; ‘you talk as if we minded. But what is the criticism of an ignorant fellow, who does not know a picture when he sees it, to me,—or any one?’ he added, with the slightest half-perceptible quiver of his lip. ‘Constable52 has just come back from Italy, Renton;—one of our old set;’ and so the talk ran on.
This little party was assembled as before in the great drawing-room. There was a fire now which made it brighter and took away something of its quaintness53, and the padrona and her guests had drawn54 near it, carrying the light and the circle of faces into the centre of the room. Now and then somebody would sing, or play,—but talk was what they all loved best, and music as an interruption of the latter was not greatly cultivated. The padrona herself was always working at something with her swift, dextrous fingers; and the ladies who formed her court had generally brought her work in their pockets, to add to their comfort while they talked. Laurie spent the next half-hour standing55 with Suffolk before the fire, talking of Italy, where they had met, and of the old set, with all that curious mingling56 of{289} laughter and sadness which accompanies such recollections. Of ‘the old set’ so many had already dropped by the way, as the passengers dropped through the trapdoors in Mirza’s Vision, while yet the fun of their jokes and their adventures lasted vividly57 in their comrades’ minds. ‘You remember poor old So-and-so,’ the young men said to each other, looking down with their brown faces on the soft glow of the fire; ‘what fun he was! what scrapes he was always getting into! There was not a painter in Rome who did not turn out the day of his funeral!—and poor Untell, with his bad Italian. What nights those were in the Condotti! There never was a better fellow. Did you hear what an end his was?’ This was how the talk went on,—without any moral in it as of the vanity of human joys; nothing but pure fact, the laughter and the tragedy interlaced and woven together; while the ladies round the lamp with the light on their faces, talked too, but not with such historical calm, of the injustices59 of the ‘Sword,’ and of the Academy, and of the public; of the advantages of other professions,—literature, for example,—at which its representative shook her head; of the children’s education and their health, and, perhaps, a little of the ills of housekeeping,—subject sacred to feminine discussion. Women do not meet, I suppose, nor do women die, as men do. They had no such melancholy60, jovial61 records behind them to go over,—their talk was of the present and the future,—a{290} curious distinction,—and the padrona’s society numbered always more women than men.
Next day, perhaps, it would be at Suffolk’s house that Laurie spent his evening, which was a house not unlike the one in which he himself lived,—a thin, tall strip of building in which two rooms were piled upward upon two rooms to the fourth storey. The two parlours on the ground-floor were domestic, and there Mrs. Suffolk sat, very glad to see her husband’s friends when they came in, but not so entirely62 one of the party as when the padrona was the hostess. Her little room, though it was as prettily63 furnished as humble means would allow, was not calculated for the reception of a crowd, and after they had paid her their devoirs, the men streamed up-stairs to the corresponding but larger room above, which was the studio,—a place in which there were no hangings to be poisoned with their tobacco, nor much furniture to impede64 their movements. Perhaps the wife of one would come with him and take off her bonnet65 and stay with Mrs. Suffolk, bringing her work with her, and resuming those endless, unfailing talks about the children, and the housekeeping, and the injustice58 of the world. For it must be understood that the artist-life I am attempting to describe is not that of the highly-placed, successful painter, against whom the Academy has no power,—who is perhaps himself on the Hanging Committee, and has the ‘Sword’ at his feet in abject66 adoration;—but of the younger{291} brotherhood67, in a chronic68 state of resistance to the powers that be, and profoundly conscious of all the opposing forces that beset69 their path. Little Mrs. Suffolk had care on her brow, as she sat with her sister in art and war, in the little drawing-room down-stairs, discussing the inexpediency of those wanderings to and fro over the earth, which probably both had gone through and enjoyed, but which ofttimes made the public and the picture-dealers oblivious70 of a young painter’s name. Up-stairs, however, there would probably be five or six young fellows, of a Bohemian race, bearded, and bronzed, and full of talk, who had not yet taken the responsibilities of life on their shoulders, and laughed at the wolf when he approached their door. Two or three of them would collect round Suffolk’s picture, which he had been working at all day, to give him the benefit of their counsel, in the midst of the wreath of smoke which filled the room. Most of them were picturesque71 young fellows enough,—thanks to the relaxed laws of costume and hair-dressing prevalent among them. And to see Suffolk with the lamp, raising it in one hand to show his work, shading it with the other that the light might fall just where it ought to fall, tenderly gazing at the canvas on which hung so many hopes, with the eager heads round him studying it judicially72, would have made such a picture as Rembrandt loved to paint.
‘I don’t quite like that perspective,’ said one.{292} ‘Look here, Suffolk, your light is coming round a corner,—the sun is there, isn’t he?—or ought to be at that time of the day.’
‘What time of the day do you call it?’ said a second.
‘Why, afternoon, to be sure,’ cried the first critic; ‘don’t you see the shadows fall to the left hand, and the look in that woman’s eyes? It’s afternoon, or I’m an ass3! Did you ever see a woman look like that except in the afternoon?—sleepiest time, I tell you, of the whole day.’
‘She’s weary of watching, don’t you see?’ said his neighbour. ‘Matter-of-fact soul! But I’d get that light straight if I were you, Suffolk. He’s wrong about the sentiment, but he’s right about the light.’
‘Give us the chalk here,’ said Constable, who had just come back from Italy; ‘there’s just a touch wanted about the arm, if you don’t mind.’
‘The colour’s good, my dear fellow,’ said Spyer, who was older than any of them, and a kind of authority in his way, ‘and the sentiment is good. I like that wistful look in her eye. She’s turned off her lover, but she can’t help that gaze after him. Poor thing!—just like women. And I like that saffron robe; but I think you might mend the drawing. I don’t quite see how she’s got her shoulder. It’s not out of joint73, is it? You had better send for the surgeon before it goes down to Trafalgar Square.{293}’
All these blasts of criticism poor Suffolk received, tant bien que mal, doing his best to seem unmoved. He even suffered the chalk which ‘that beggar, Constable—a tree-painter, by Jove!—a landscape man,’ he said afterwards, with the fervour of indignation, permitted himself to mark the dimpled elbow of his Saxon maiden74. The mists of smoke and the laughter that came out of the room from cheery companions who were lost in these mists, and the system of give and take, which made him prescient of the moment when Spyer and Constable too would be at his mercy, as he was now at theirs, made their comments quite bearable, when one word from the ‘Sword’ would have driven the painter frantic75. And to do them justice, it was only the pictures which were in the course of painting on which they were critical. Groups now and then would collect before that picture of the English captive boys in the Forum76, which the Academy had hung at the roof, and which had come home accordingly unapplauded and unsold, though later;—but I need not anticipate the course of events. Suffolk’s visitors gathered before it, and looked at it with their heads on one side, and pointed77 out its special qualities to each other, not with the finger, as do the ignorant, but with that peculiar78 caressing79 movement of the hand which is common to the craft. ‘What colour! by Jove, that’s a bit of Italian air brought bodily into our fogs;—and the cross light is perfect, sir!’ Spyer{294} said, who had just been so hard on his friend’s drawing. If they found out faults which the uninstructed eye was slow to see, they discovered beauties too; and then gathered round the fire, and fell into twos and threes, and went back to that same talk of the past and the ‘old set,’ in which Laurie had indulged on the previous night. The ‘old set’ varied80 according to the speakers; with some it was only the fellows at Clipstone Street; but with all the moral was the same; the cheery days and nights, the wild sallies of youthful freedom, the great hopes dwindled81 into nothing, the many, many fallen by the way, not one-half of the crowd seeming to have come safely through the struggles of the beginning. ‘Poor So-and-so! If ever there was a man who had a real feeling for art, it was he; and as good a fellow’—they added, puffing82 forth meditative83 clouds; and there would be a laugh the next moment over some remembered pranks84. Laurie had formed one of many such parties ere now. He, too, had been of the ‘old set:’ he had his stories to contribute, his momentary sigh to breathe forth along with the fumes85 of his cigar. But, perhaps, he had never in his amateur days felt so completely belonging to the society in which he found himself. Sometimes, perhaps, he had laughed a little, and given himself a little shake of half-conscious superiority when he left them, and set out to Kensington Gore as to another world; but Charlotte Street was emphatically the{295} same world, and the esprit de corps86 was strong in Laurie’s heart. ‘Anch’io pittore,’ he said to himself as he stood indignant before Suffolk’s beautiful picture which had been hung up at the roof. It was a beautiful picture; and one of these days the Hanging Committee might treat himself in the same way; and if by chance criticism should really be so effectual as everybody said, why should not something be done for Suffolk—using the devil’s tools, as it were, to do a good action—by means of Slasher and the ‘Sword?’
The majority of the young men went away after an hour’s talk and smoke unlimited87; but Laurie was one of those who remained and went down to supper, along with Spyer and Constable, to the back room down-stairs, which was the little dining-room. Mrs. Suffolk was very careful to keep the folding-doors shut, and to make two rooms, though it certainly would have been larger and might have been more comfortable had they been thrown into one. It was Mrs. Spyer who was her companion that evening, who was older than she, and commented a little sharply on this poor little bit of pretension88, as Laurie walked part of the way home with the pair. ‘I like nice dining and drawing-rooms as well as any one,’ Mrs. Spyer said, ‘but if I were Helen, I would be comfortable, and never mind.’ ‘All the same she is a good little woman,’ her husband had said, irrelevantly;—for, to be sure, nobody doubted that she was a good little woman. They had cold beef and celery and cheese on the table, and refreshed themselves with copious89 draughts90 of beer. I do not say it was a very refined conclusion to the evening, but I think Laurie was better amused and more interested than after many a fine party. He walked home with Spyer, talking of Suffolk’s picture, and the injustice that had been done him, jettant feu et flamme, as they mentioned the Academy, yet hoping that band of tyrants91 could not be so foolish two years running. ‘The thing is, to have him written up in the papers,’ Spyer said; ‘a fellow of his talent cannot be long kept in the background; but if the papers were to take him up, it would shorten his probation92.’ ‘I hate the papers,’ said Mrs. Spyer. ‘Why don’t we have private patrons, as we used to have, and never mind the public? To think of a wretched newspaper deciding a man’s fate! I would not give in to it for a day.’
‘But we must give in to it, or else be left behind in the race,’ said her husband. And Laurie thought more and more, as he listened to all this talk, of the influence he himself might exercise at the club and elsewhere upon Slasher and the ‘Sword. ’
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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gore
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| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
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lodger
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| n.寄宿人，房客 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(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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dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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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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prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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meekest
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| adj.温顺的，驯服的( meek的最高级 ) | |
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expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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barricaded
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| 设路障于，以障碍物阻塞( barricade的过去式和过去分词 )； 设路障[防御工事]保卫或固守 | |
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spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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wane
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| n.衰微，亏缺，变弱；v.变小，亏缺，呈下弦 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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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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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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inveigled
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| v.诱骗，引诱( inveigle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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45
vicissitudes
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| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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perverseness
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| n. 乖张, 倔强, 顽固 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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quaintness
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| n.离奇有趣，古怪的事物 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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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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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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injustices
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| 不公平( injustice的名词复数 )； 非正义； 待…不公正； 冤枉 | |
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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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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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impede
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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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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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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forum
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| n.论坛，讨论会 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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pretension
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| n.要求；自命，自称；自负 | |
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copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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tyrants
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| 专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 )； 暴君似的人； （古希腊的）僭主； 严酷的事物 | |
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probation
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| n.缓刑(期)，(以观后效的)察看；试用(期) | |
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