The finest of all was now Anne’s bed. Sir Julius, son to Sir Ferdinando, had had it made in Venice against his wife’s first lying-in. Early seicento Venice had expended5 all its extravagant6 art in the making of it. The body of the bed was like a great square sarcophagus. Clustering roses were carved in high relief on its wooden panels, and luscious7 putti wallowed among the roses. On the black ground-work of the panels the carved reliefs were gilded and burnished8. The golden roses twined in spirals up the four pillar-like posts, and cherubs9, seated at the top of each column, supported a wooden canopy10 fretted11 with the same carved flowers.
Anne was reading in bed. Two candles stood on the little table beside her, in their rich light her face, her bare arm and shoulder took on warm hues12 and a sort of peach-like quality of surface. Here and there in the canopy above her carved golden petals13 shone brightly among profound shadows, and the soft light, falling on the sculptured panel of the bed, broke restlessly among the intricate roses, lingered in a broad caress14 on the blown cheeks, the dimpled bellies15, the tight, absurd little posteriors of the sprawling16 putti.
There was a discreet17 tap at the door. She looked up. “Come in, come in.” A face, round and childish, within its sleek18 bell of golden hair, peered round the opening door. More childish-looking still, a suit of mauve pyjamas19 made its entrance.
It was Mary. “I thought I’d just look in for a moment to say good-night,” she said, and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Anne closed her book. “That was very sweet of you.”
“What are you reading?” She looked at the book. “Rather second-rate, isn’t it?” The tone in which Mary pronounced the word “second-rate” implied an almost infinite denigration20. She was accustomed in London to associate only with first-rate people who liked first-rate things, and she knew that there were very, very few first-rate things in the world, and that those were mostly French.
“Well, I’m afraid I like it,” said Anne. There was nothing more to be said. The silence that followed was a rather uncomfortable one. Mary fiddled21 uneasily with the bottom button of her pyjama jacket. Leaning back on her mound22 of heaped-up pillows, Anne waited and wondered what was coming.
“I’m so awfully23 afraid of repressions24,” said Mary at last, bursting suddenly and surprisingly into speech. She pronounced the words on the tail-end of an expiring breath, and had to gasp25 for new air almost before the phrase was finished.
“I said repressions, not depressions.”
“Oh, repressions; I see,” said Anne. “But repressions of what?”
Mary had to explain. “The natural instincts of sex...” she began didactically. But Anne cut her short.
“Yes, yes. Perfectly27. I understand. Repressions! old maids and all the rest. But what about them?”
“That’s just it,” said Mary. “I’m afraid of them. It’s always dangerous to repress one’s instincts. I’m beginning to detect in myself symptoms like the ones you read of in the books. I constantly dream that I’m falling down wells; and sometimes I even dream that I’m climbing up ladders. It’s most disquieting28. The symptoms are only too clear.”
“Are they?”
“One may become a nymphomaniac if one’s not careful. You’ve no idea how serious these repressions are if you don’t get rid of them in time.”
“It sounds too awful,” said Anne. “But I don’t see that I can do anything to help you.”
“I thought I’d just like to talk it over with you.”
“Why, of course; I’m only too happy, Mary darling.”
Mary coughed and drew a deep breath. “I presume,” she began sententiously, “I presume we may take for granted that an intelligent young woman of twenty-three who has lived in civilised society in the twentieth century has no prejudices.”
“Well, I confess I still have a few.”
“But not about repressions.”
“No, not many about repressions; that’s true.”
“Or, rather, about getting rid of repressions.”
“Exactly.”
“So much for our fundamental postulate,” said Mary. Solemnity was expressed in every feature of her round young face, radiated from her large blue eyes. “We come next to the desirability of possessing experience. I hope we are agreed that knowledge is desirable and that ignorance is undesirable29.”
Obedient as one of those complaisant30 disciples31 from whom Socrates could get whatever answer he chose, Anne gave her assent32 to this proposition.
“And we are equally agreed, I hope, that marriage is what it is.”
“It is.”
“Good!” said Mary. “And repressions being what they are...”
“Exactly.”
“There would therefore seem to be only one conclusion.”
“But I knew that,” Anne exclaimed, “before you began.”
“Yes, but now it’s been proved,” said Mary. “One must do things logically. The question is now...”
“But where does the question come in? You’ve reached your only possible conclusion—logically, which is more than I could have done. All that remains33 is to impart the information to someone you like—someone you like really rather a lot, someone you’re in love with, if I may express myself so baldly.”
“But that’s just where the question comes in,” Mary exclaimed. “I’m not in love with anybody.”
“Then, if I were you, I should wait till you are.”
“But I can’t go on dreaming night after night that I’m falling down a well. It’s too dangerous.”
“Well, if it really is TOO dangerous, then of course you must do something about it; you must find somebody else.”
“But who?” A thoughtful frown puckered34 Mary’s brow. “It must be somebody intelligent, somebody with intellectual interests that I can share. And it must be somebody with a proper respect for women, somebody who’s prepared to talk seriously about his work and his ideas and about my work and my ideas. It isn’t, as you see, at all easy to find the right person.”
“Well” said Anne, “there are three unattached and intelligent men in the house at the present time. There’s Mr. Scogan, to begin with; but perhaps he’s rather too much of a genuine antique. And there are Gombauld and Denis. Shall we say that the choice is limited to the last two?”
Mary nodded. “I think we had better,” she said, and then hesitated, with a certain air of embarrassment35.
“What is it?”
“I was wondering,” said Mary, with a gasp, “whether they really were unattached. I thought that perhaps you might...you might...”
“It was very nice of you to think of me, Mary darling,” said Anne, smiling the tight cat’s smile. “But as far as I’m concerned, they are both entirely36 unattached.”
“I’m very glad of that,” said Mary, looking relieved. “We are now confronted with the question: Which of the two?”
“I can give no advice. It’s a matter for your taste.”
“It’s not a matter of my taste,” Mary pronounced, “but of their merits. We must weigh them and consider them carefully and dispassionately.”
“You must do the weighing yourself,” said Anne; there was still the trace of a smile at the corners of her mouth and round the half-closed eyes. “I won’t run the risk of advising you wrongly.”
“Gombauld has more talent,” Mary began, “but he is less civilised than Denis.” Mary’s pronunciation of “civilised” gave the word a special and additional significance. She uttered it meticulously37, in the very front of her mouth, hissing38 delicately on the opening sibilant. So few people were civilised, and they, like the first-rate works of art, were mostly French. “Civilisation is most important, don’t you think?”
Anne held up her hand. “I won’t advise,” she said. “You must make the decision.”
“Gombauld’s family,” Mary went on reflectively, “comes from Marseilles. Rather a dangerous heredity, when one thinks of the Latin attitude towards women. But then, I sometimes wonder whether Denis is altogether serious-minded, whether he isn’t rather a dilettante39. It’s very difficult. What do you think?”
“I’m not listening,” said Anne. “I refuse to take any responsibility.”
Mary sighed. “Well,” she said, “I think I had better go to bed and think about it.”
“Carefully and dispassionately,” said Anne.
At the door Mary turned round. “Good-night,” she said, and wondered as she said the words why Anne was smiling in that curious way. It was probably nothing, she reflected. Anne often smiled for no apparent reason; it was probably just a habit. “I hope I shan’t dream of falling down wells again to-night,” she added.
“Ladders are worse,” said Anne.
Mary nodded. “Yes, ladders are much graver.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
hereditary
|
|
| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
gilded
|
|
| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
walnut
|
|
| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
grandiose
|
|
| adj.宏伟的，宏大的，堂皇的，铺张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
expended
|
|
| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
extravagant
|
|
| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
luscious
|
|
| adj.美味的；芬芳的；肉感的，引与性欲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
burnished
|
|
| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
cherubs
|
|
| 小天使，胖娃娃( cherub的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
canopy
|
|
| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
fretted
|
|
| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
hues
|
|
| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
petals
|
|
| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
caress
|
|
| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
bellies
|
|
| n.肚子( belly的名词复数 )；腹部；（物体的）圆形或凸起部份；腹部…形的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
sprawling
|
|
| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
discreet
|
|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
sleek
|
|
| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
pyjamas
|
|
| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
denigration
|
|
| n.弄黑；诋毁；贬低；抹黑[医] 涂黑，变黑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
fiddled
|
|
| v.伪造( fiddle的过去式和过去分词 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
mound
|
|
| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
repressions
|
|
| n.压抑( repression的名词复数 )；约束；抑制；镇压 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
25
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
disquieting
|
|
| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
undesirable
|
|
| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
complaisant
|
|
| adj.顺从的，讨好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
disciples
|
|
| n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 )；门徒；耶稣的信徒；（尤指）耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
assent
|
|
| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
puckered
|
|
| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
meticulously
|
|
| adv.过细地，异常细致地；无微不至；精心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
hissing
|
|
| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
dilettante
|
|
| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |