Young Trivett had tossed off “A Friend in Need” and had won from it the highest praise as a craftsman2. He had worked five years on his drama, only to be accused of being “so spoiled by success as to think that the public would endure anything he tossed off.”
But the miserable3 collapse4 of his chef-d’?uvre did not even check the triumph of his hors-d’?uvre. “A Friend in Need” ran on “to capacity” until the summer weather turned the theater into a chafing-dish. Then the company was disbanded.
In the early autumn following it was reorganized for a road tour. Of the original company only four or five members were re-engaged—Sheila, Mrs. Vining, Miss Griffen, and Tuell.
During the rehearsals5 Sheila had paid little attention to the new people. She was doomed6 to be in their company for thirty or forty weeks and she was in no hurry to know them. She was gracious enough to those she met, but she made no advances to the others, nor they to her. She had noticed that a new man played the taxicab-driver, but she neither knew nor cared about his name, his aim, or his previous condition of servitude.
The Freshmen7 of Leroy University brought him to her attention with a spectacular suddenness in the guise8 of a hero. The blow he struck in her supposed defense9 served as an ideal letter of introduction.
As soon as the curtain had fallen on the riot, cutting off the view of the battle between the police and the students, Sheila looked about for the hero who had rescued her from Heaven alone knew what outrage10.
The neglected member of the troupe11 had leaped into the star r?le, the superstar r?le of a man who wages a battle in a woman’s defense. She ran to him and, seizing his hands, cried:
“How can I ever, ever, ever thank you, Mr.—Mr.—I’m so excited I can’t remember your name.”
“Eldon—Floyd Eldon, Miss Kemble.”
“You were wonderful, wonderful!”
“Why, thank you, Miss Kemble. I’m glad if you—if—To have been of service to you is—is—”
The stage-manager broke up the exchange of compliments with a “Clear! clear! Damn it, the curtain’s going up.” They ran for opposite wings.
When the play was over Eldon was not to be found, and Sheila went with her aunt to the train. At the hour when Winfield was being released from his cell the special sleeping-car that carried the “Friend in Need” company was three hundred miles or more away and fleeing farther.
When Sheila raised the curtain of her berth12 and looked out upon the reeling landscape the morning was nearly noon. Yet when she hobbled down the aisle13 in unbuttoned shoes and the costume of a woman making a hasty exit from a burning building, there were not many of the troupe awake to observe her. Her aunt, however, was among these, for old age was robbing Mrs. Vining of her lifelong habit of forenoon slumber14. Like many another of her age, she berated15 as weak or shiftless what she could no longer enjoy.
But Sheila was used to her and her rubber-stamp approval of the past and rubber-stamp reproval of the present. They went into the dining-car together, Sheila making the usual theatrical16 combination of breakfast and lunch. As she took her place at a table she caught sight of her rescuer of the night before.
He was gouging17 an orange when Sheila surprised him with one of her best smiles. His startled spoon shot a geyser of juice into his eye, but he smiled back in spite of that, and made a desperate effort not to wink18. Sheila noted19 the stoicism and thought to herself, “A hero, on and off.”
Later in the afternoon when she had read such morning papers as were brought aboard the train, and found them deadly dull since there was nothing about her in them, and when she had read into her novel till she discovered the familiar framework of it, and when from sheer boredom20 she was wishing that it were a matinée day so that she might be at her work, she saw Floyd Eldon coming down the aisle of the car.
He had sat in the smoking-room until he had wearied of the amusing reminiscences of old Jaffer, who was always reminiscent, and of the grim silence of Crumb21, who was always taciturn, and of the half-smothered groans22 of Tuell, who was always aching somewhere. At length Eldon had resolved to be alone, that he might ride herd23 about the drove of his own thoughts. He made his face ready for a restrained smile that should not betray to Sheila in one passing glance all that she meant to him.
To his ecstatic horror she stopped him with a gesture and overwhelmed him by the delightful24 observation that it was a beautiful day. He freely admitted that it was and would have moved on, but she checked him again to present him to Mrs. Vining.
Mrs. Vining was pleased with the distinguished25 bow he gave her. It was a sort of old-comedy bow. She studied him freely as he turned in response to Sheila’s next confusing words:
Eldon looked as guilty as if she had accused him of being himself the brute he had saved her from. He threw off his disgusting embarrassment27 with an effort at a careless shrug28:
“It was nothing—nothing at all, I am sure.”
“It was wonderful,” Sheila insisted. “How powerful you must be to have lifted that monster clear over the apron29 of the stage into the lap of the orchestra!”
A man never likes to deny his infinite strength, but Eldon was honest enough to protest: “I caught him off his balance, I am afraid. And, besides, it comes rather natural to me to slug a man from Leroy.”
“Yes? Why?”
“I am a Grantham man myself. I was on our ’varsity eleven a couple of years.”
“Oh!” said Sheila. “Sit down, won’t you?”
She felt that she had managed this rather crassly30. It would have been more delicate to express less surprise and to delay the invitation to a later point. But it was too late now. He had already dropped into the place beside her, not noticing until too late that he sat upon a novel and a magazine or two and an embroidery31 hoop32 on which she had intended to work. But he was on so many pins and needles that he hardly heeded33 one more.
College men are increasingly frequent on the stage, but not yet frequent enough to escape a little prestige or a little prejudice, according to the point of view. In Sheila’s case Eldon gained prestige and a touch of majesty34 that put her wits to some embarrassment for conversation. It was one thing to be gracious to a starveling actor with a two-line r?le; it was quite another to be gracious to a football hero full of fame and learning.
Mrs. Vining, however, had played grandes dames35 too long to look up to anybody. She felt at ease even in the presence of this big third-baseman, or coxswain, or whatever he had been on his football nine. She said, “Been on the stage long, Mr. Eldon?”
Eldon grinned meekly36, looked up and down the aisle with mock anxiety, and answered: “The stage-manager isn’t listening? This is my first engagement.”
“Really?” was the only comment Sheila could think of.
After his long silence in the company, and under the warming influence of Sheila’s presence, the snows of pent-up reminiscence came down in a flood of confession37:
“I don’t really belong on the stage, you know. I haven38’t a big enough part to show how bad an actor I really could be if I had the chance. But I set my mind on going on the stage, and go I went.”
“Did you find it hard to get a position?”
“Well, when I left college and the question of my profession came up, dad and I had several hot-and-heavies. Finally he swore that if I didn’t accept a job in his office I need never darken his door again. Business of turning out of house. Father shaking fist. Son exit center, swearing he will never come back again. Sound of door slamming heard off.”
Sheila still loved life in theatrical terms. “But what did your poor mother do?” she said.
A film seemed to veil Eldon’s eyes as he mumbled39: “She wasn’t there. She was spared that.” Then he gulped40 down his private grief and went on with his more congenial self-derision: “I left home, feeling like Columbus going to discover America. I didn’t expect to star the first year, but I thought I could get some kind of a job. I went to New York and called on all the managers. I was such an ignoramus that I hadn’t heard of the agencies. I got to know several office-boys very well before one of them told me about the employment bureaus. Well, you know all about that agency game.”
Sheila had been spared the passage through this Inferno41 on her way to the Purgatory42 of apprenticeship43. But she had heard enough about it to feel sad for him, and she spared him any allusions44 to her superior luck. Still, she encouraged him to describe his own adventures.
He told of the hardships he encountered and the siege he laid to the theater before he found a breach45 in its walls to crawl through. Constantly he paused to apologize for his garrulity46, but Sheila urged him on. She had been born within the walls and she knew almost nothing of the struggles that others met except from hearsay47. And she had never heard say from just such a man with just such a determination. So she coaxed48 him on and on with his history, as Desdemona persuaded Othello to talk. With a greedy ear she devoured49 up his discourse50 and made him dilate51 all his pilgrimage. Only, Eldon was not a Blackmoor, and it was of his defeats and not his victories that he told. Which made him perhaps all the more attractive, seeing that he was well born and well made.
He laughed at his own ignorance, and felt none of the pity for himself that Sheila felt for him. When she praised his determination, he sneered52 at himself:
“It was just bull-headed stubbornness. I was ashamed to go back to my dad and eat veal53, and so I didn’t eat much of anything for a long while. The only jobs I could get were off the stage, and I held them just long enough to save up for another try. How these actors keep alive I can’t imagine. I nearly starved to death. It wouldn’t have been much of a loss to the stage if I had, but it wasn’t much fun for me. I wore out my clothes and wore out my shoes and my overcoat and my hat. I wore out everything but my common sense. If I’d had any of that I’d have given up.”
Mrs. Vining moved uneasily. “If you’d had common sense you wouldn’t have tried to get on the stage.”
“And if you have common sense you’ll never succeed, now that you’re here.”
When this bewildered Eldon, she added, with the dignity of a priestess: “Acting is an art, not a business; and people come to see artists, not business men. Half of the actors are just drummers traveling about; but the real successes are made by geniuses who have charm and individuality and insight and uncommon55 sense. I think you’re probably just fool enough to succeed. But go on.”
Eldon felt both flattered and dismayed by this pronouncement. He began to talk to hide his confusion.
“I’m a fool, all right. Whether I’m just the right sort of a fool—Well, anyway—my money didn’t last long, and I owed everybody that would trust me for a meal or a room. The office-boys gave me impudence56 until I wore that out too, and then they treated me like any old bench-warmer in the park. The agents grew sick of the sight of me. They sent me to the managers until they had instructions not to send me again. But still I stuck at it, the Lord knows why.
“One day I went the rounds of the agencies as usual. When I came to the last one I was so nauseated57 with the idiocy58 of asking the same old grocery-boy’s question, ‘Anything to-day?’ I just put my head in at the door, gave one hungry look around, and started away again. The agent—Mrs. Sanchez, it was—beckoned to me, but I didn’t see; she called after me, but I didn’t hear; she sent an office-boy to bring me back.
“When I squeezed through the crowd in the office it was like being called out of my place in the bread-line to get the last loaf of the day. I felt ashamed of my success and I was afraid that I was going to be asked to take the place of some Broadway star who had suddenly fallen ill.
“Mrs. Sanchez swung open the gate in the rail and said: ‘Young man, can you sing?’
“My heart fell to the floor and I stepped on it. I heard myself saying, ‘Is Caruso sick?’
“I told her that I used to growl60 as loud a bass61 as the rest of them when we sang on the college fence.
“?‘That’s enough,’ said Mrs. Sanchez. ‘They’re putting on a Civil War play and they want a man to be one of a crowd of soldiers who sing at the camp-fire in one of the acts. The part isn’t big enough to pay a singer and there is nothing else to do but get shot and play dead in the battle scene.’
“I told her I thought I could play dead to the satisfaction of any reasonable manager and she gave me a card to the producer.
“Then she said, ‘You’ve never been on the stage, have you?’
“I shook my head. She told me to tell the producer that I had just come in from the road with a play that had closed after a six months’ run. I took the card and dashed out of the office so fast I nearly knocked over a poor old thing with a head of hair like a bushel of excelsior. It took me two days to get to the producer, and then he told me that it had been decided62 not to send the play out, since the theatrical conditions were so bad.”
Mrs. Vining interpolated, “Theatrical conditions are like the weather—always dangerous for people with poor circulation.”
“I went back to the office,” said Eldon, “and told Mrs. Sanchez the situation. The other members of the company had beaten me there. The poor old soul was broken-hearted, and I don’t believe she regretted her lost commissions as much as the disappointment of the actors.
“A lot of people have told me she was heartless. She was always good to me, and if she was a little hard in her manner it was because she would have died if she hadn’t been. Agents are like doctors, they’ve got to grow callous63 or quit. Her office was a shop where she bought and sold hopes and heartbreaks, and if she had squandered64 her sympathy on everybody she wouldn’t have lasted a week. But for some reason or other she made a kind of pet of me.”
Mrs. Vining murmured, “I rather fancy that she was not the first, and won’t be the last, woman to do that.”
Eldon flushed like a young boy who has been told that he is pretty. He realized also that he had been talking about himself to a most unusual extent with most unusual frankness, and he relapsed into silence until Sheila urged him on.
It was a stupid Sunday afternoon in the train and he was like a traveler telling of strange lands, under the insatiable expectancy66 of a fair listener. There are few industries easier to persuade a human being toward than the industry of autobiography67. Eldon described the dreary68 Sahara of idleness that he crossed before his next opportunity appeared.
As a castaway sits in the cabin of a ship that has rescued him and smiles while he recounts the straits he has escaped from, and never dreams of the storms that are gathering69 in his future skies, so Eldon in the Pullman car chuckled70 over the history of his past and fretted71 not a whit72 over the miseries73 he was hurrying to.
The only thing that could have completed his luxury was added to him when he saw that Sheila, instead of laughing with him, was staring at him through half-closed eyelids74 on whose lashes75 there was more than a suspicion of dew. There was pity in her eyes, but in her words only admiration76:
“And you didn’t give up even then!”
“No,” said Eldon; “it is mighty77 hard knocking intelligence into as thick a skull78 as mine. I went back to the garage where I had worked as a helper. I had learned something about automobiles79 when I ran the one my father bought me. But I kept nagging80 the agencies. Awful idiot, eh?”
“We are always reading about the splendid perseverance82 of men who become leading dry-goods merchants of their towns or prominent politicians or great painters, but the actors know as well as anybody what real perseverance is. And nobody gives them credit for being anything but a lot of dissipated loafers.”
Sheila was not interested in generalizations83. She wanted to know about the immediate84 young man before her. She was still child enough to feel tremendous suspense85 over a situation, however well she knew that it must have a happy ending. When she had been littler the story of Jack86 the Giant-killer had enjoyed an unbroken run of forty nights in the bedtime repertoire87 of her mother. And never once had she failed to shiver with delicious fright and suffer anguishes88 of anxiety for poor Jack whenever she heard the ogre’s voice. At the first sound of his leit motiv, “Fee, fi, fo, fum—” her little hands would clutch her mother’s arm and her eyes would pop with terror. Yet, without losing at all the thrill of the drama, she would correct the least deviation89 from the sacred text and rebuke90 the least effort at interpolation.
It was this weird91 combination of childish credulity, fierce imagination, and exact intelligence that made up her gift of pretending. So long as she could keep that without outgrowing92 it, as the vast majority do, she would be set apart from the herd as one who could dream with the eyes wide open.
When she looked at Eldon she saw him as the ragged93, hungry beggar at the stage door. She saw him turned away and she feared that he might die, though she knew that he still lived. There was genuine anxiety in her voice when she demanded, “How on earth did you ever manage to succeed?”
“I haven’t succeeded yet,” said Eldon, “or even begun to, but I am still alive. It’s hard to get food and employment in New York, but somehow it’s harder still to starve there. One way or another I kept at work and hounded the managers. And one day I happened in at a manager’s office just as he was firing an actor who thought he had some rights in the world. He snapped me up with an offer of twenty-five dollars a week. If he had offered me a million it wouldn’t have seemed any bigger.”
Mrs. Vining had listened with unwonted interest and with some difficulty, for sleep had been tugging94 at her heavy old eyelids. As soon as she heard that Eldon had arrived in haven at last she felt no further necessity of attention and fell asleep on the instant.
Sheila sighed with relief, too. And the train had purred along contentedly95 for half a mile before she realized that after all Eldon was not with that company, but with this. Seeing that her aunt was no longer with them in spirit, she lowered her voice to comment:
“But if you went with the other troupe, what are you doing here?”
“Well, you see, I thought I ought to tell Mrs. Sanchez the good news. I thought she would be glad to hear it, and I was going to offer her the commission for all the work she had done and all the time she had spent on me. She looked disappointed when I told her, and she warned me that the manager was unreliable and the play a gamble. She had just found me a position with a company taking an assured success to the road. It was this play of yours. The part was small and the pay was smaller still, but it was good for forty weeks.
“But I was ambitious, and I told her I would take the other. I wanted to create—that was the big word I used—I wanted to ‘create’ a new part. She told me that the first thing for an actor to do was to connect with a steady job, but I wouldn’t listen to her till finally she happened to mention something that changed my mind.”
He flushed with an excitement that roused Sheila’s curiosity. When he did not go on, she said:
“But what was it that changed your mind?”
Eldon smiled comfortably, and, emboldened96 by the long attention of his audience, ventured to murmur65 the truth: “I had seen you act—in New York—in this play, and I—I thought that you were a wonderful actress, and more than that—the most—the most—Well, anyway, Mrs. Sanchez happened to mention that you would be with this company, so I took the part of the taxicab-driver. But I found I was farther away from you than ever—till—till last night.”
And then Eldon was as startled at the sound of his words and their immense import as Sheila was. The little word “you” resounded97 softly like warning torpedoes98 on a railroad track signaling: “Down brakes! Danger ahead!”
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1
elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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craftsman
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| n.技工，精于一门工艺的匠人 | |
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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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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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6
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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freshmen
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| n.（中学或大学的）一年级学生( freshman的名词复数 ) | |
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guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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troupe
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| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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berated
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| v.严厉责备，痛斥( berate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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gouging
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| n.刨削[槽]v.凿( gouge的现在分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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crassly
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| adv.粗鲁地，愚钝地 | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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inferno
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| n.火海；地狱般的场所 | |
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purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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45
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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46
garrulity
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| n.饶舌，多嘴 | |
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hearsay
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| n.谣传，风闻 | |
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48
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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49
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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50
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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51
dilate
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| vt.使膨胀，使扩大 | |
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52
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
veal
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| n.小牛肉 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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56
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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nauseated
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| adj.作呕的，厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
idiocy
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| n.愚蠢 | |
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59
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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61
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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squandered
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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autobiography
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| n.自传 | |
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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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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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80
nagging
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| adj.唠叨的，挑剔的；使人不得安宁的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的现在分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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perseverance
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| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
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generalizations
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| 一般化( generalization的名词复数 )； 普通化； 归纳； 概论 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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86
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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repertoire
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| n.(准备好演出的)节目，保留剧目；(计算机的)指令表，指令系统， <美>(某个人的)全部技能；清单，指令表 | |
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anguishes
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| v.（尤指心理上的）极度的痛苦( anguish的第三人称单数 ) | |
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deviation
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| n.背离，偏离；偏差，偏向；离题 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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outgrowing
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的现在分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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94
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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96
emboldened
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| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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98
torpedoes
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| 鱼雷( torpedo的名词复数 )； 油井爆破筒； 刺客； 掼炮 | |
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