He avoided Sheila, and she, feeling repulsed2, turned her attention from him. Friends of her father and mother and friends of her school days besieged3 her with entertainment. People who took pride in saying they knew somebody on the stage sought introductions. Rich or handsome young men were presented to her at every turn. They poured their praises and their prayers into her pretty ears, but got no receipt for them nor any merchandise of favor. She was not quite out of the hilarious4 stage of girlhood. She said with more philosophy than she realized that she “had no use for men.” But they were all the more excited by her evasive charms. Her prettiness was ripening5 into beauty and the glow of youth from within gave her a more shining aureole than even the ingenuities6 of stage make-up and lighting7. Homes of wealth were open to her and her growing clientèle frequented the theater. Miss Griffen was voted common, and left to the adulation of the fast young men.
The traveling-manager of the company was not slow to notice this. He saw that Sheila had not only the rare gifts of dramatic instinct and appeal, but that she had the power of attracting the approval of distinguished8 people as well as of the general. Men of all ages delighted in her; and this was still more important—women of all ages liked her, paid to see her. Women who gave great receptions in brand-new palaces bought up all the boxes or several rows in the orchestra in honor of Sheila Kemble. School-girls clambered to the balcony and shop-girls to the gallery to see Sheila Kemble.
The listening manager heard the outgoing voices again and again saying such things as, “It’s the third time I’ve seen this. It’s not much of a play, but Sheila Kemble—isn’t she sweet?”
The company-manager and the house-manager and the press agent all wrote to Reben, the manager-in-chief:
And Reben, who had made himself a plutocrat with twenty companies on the road, and a dozen theaters, owned or leased—Reben who had grown rich by studying his public, planned to make another fortune by exploiting Sheila Kemble. He kept the secret to himself, but he set on foot a still hunt for the play that should make her while she seemed to be making it. He schemed how to get her signature to a five-year contract without exciting her cupidity10 to a duel11 with his own. He gave orders to play her up gradually in the publicity12. The thoughts of managers are long, long thoughts.
He gave out an interview to the effect that what the public wanted was “Youth—youth, that beautiful flower which is the dearest memory of the old, and the golden delight of the young.”
His chief publicity man, Starr Coleman, a reformed dramatic critic, wrote the interview for Reben, explained it to him, and was proud of it with the vicarious pride of those strange scribes whose lives are devoted13 to getting for others what they deny to themselves.
Reben had told Coleman to play up strong his belief in the American dramatist, particularly the young dramatist. Reben always did this just before he set out on his annual European shopping-tour among the foreign play-bazars. Over there he could inspect the finished products of expert craftsmen14; he could see their machines in operation, in lieu of buying pigs in pokes15 from ambitious Yankees who learned their trade at the managers’ expense.
This widely copied “Youth” interview brought down on Reben’s play-bureau a deluge16 of American manuscripts, almost all of them devoid17 of theme or novelty, redolent of no passion except the passion for writing a play, and all of them crude in workmanship. Reben kept a play-reader—or at least a play-rejector, and paid him a moderate salary to glance over submitted manuscripts so that Reben could make a bluff18 at having read them before he returned them. This timid person surprised Reben one day by saying:
“There’s a play here with a kind of an idea in it. It’s hopeless as it stands, of course, but it might be worked over a little. It’s written by a man named Vicksburg, or Vickery, or something like that. Funny thing—he suggests that Sheila Kemble would be the ideal woman for the principal part. And, do you know, I’ve been thinking she has the makings of a star some day. Had you ever thought of that?”
“Well, I believe she’ll bear watching.”
In after-years this play-returner used to say, “I put Reben on to the idea that there was star material in Kemble, before he ever thought of it himself.”
But long before either of them thought of Sheila Kemble as a star, that destiny had been dreamed and planned for her by Sheila Kemble.
Frivolous20 as she appeared on the stage and off, her pretty head was full of sonorous21 ambitions. That head was not turned by the whirlwinds of adulation, or drugged by the bouquets22 of flattery, because it was full of self-criticism. She was struggling for expressions that she could not get; she was groping, listening, studying, trying, discarding, replacing.
She thought she was free from any nonsense of love. Nonsense should not thwart23 her progress and make a fool of her, as it had of so many others. It should not interrupt her career or ruin it as it had so many others. She would make friends with men, oh yes. They were so much more sensible, as a rule, than women, except when they grew sentimental24. And that was a mere25 form of preliminary sparring with most of them. Once a girl made a fellow understand that she was not interested in spoony nonsense, he became himself and gave his mind a chance. And all the while nature was rendering26 her more ready to command love from without, less ready to withstand love from within. She was becoming more and more of an actress. But still faster and still more was she becoming a woman.
While Sheila was drafting herself a future, Eldon was gnashing his teeth in a pillory27 of inaction. He could make no step forward and he could not back out. He had taken cheap and nasty lodgings28 in the same boarding-house with Vincent Tuell, who added to his depression by his constant distress29. Tuell could not sleep nights or days; he filled Eldon’s ears with endless denunciations of the stage and with cynical30 advice to chuck it while he could. Eldon would probably have taken Tuell’s advice if Tuell had not urged it so tyrannically. In self-defense Eldon would protest:
“Why don’t you leave it yourself, man? You ought to be in the hospital or at home being nursed.”
And Tuell would snarl31: “Oh, I’d chuck it quick enough if I could. But I’ve got no other trade, and there’s the pair of kiddies in school—and the wife. She’s sick, too, and I’m here. God! what a business! It wouldn’t be so bad if I were getting anywhere except older. But I’ve got a rotten part and I’m rotten in it. Every night I have to breeze in and breeze out and fight like the devil to keep from dying on the job. And never a laugh do I get. It’s one of those parts that reads funny and rehearses the company into convulsions and then plays like a column from the telephone-book. I’ve done everything I could. I put in all the old sure-fire business. I never lie down. I trip over rugs, I make funny faces, I wear funny clothes, but does anybody smile?—nagh! I can’t even fool the critics. I haven’t had a clipping I could send home to the wife since I left the big town.”
Eldon had been as puzzled as Tuell was. He had watched the expert actor using an encyclopedia32 of tricks, and never achieving success. Tuell usually came off dripping with sweat. The moment he reached the wings his grin fell from him like a cheap comic mask over a tragic33 grimace34 of real pain and despair. In addition to his mental distress, his physical torment35 was incessant36. In his boarding-house Tuell gave himself up to lamentations without end. Eldon begged him to see a doctor, but Tuell did not believe in doctors.
“They always want to get their knives into you,” he would growl37. “They’re worse than the critics.”
One day Eldon made the acquaintance of a young physician named Edie, who had recently hung a sign in the front window and used the parlor38 as an office during certain morning hours. Patients came rarely, and the physician berated39 his profession as violently as Tuell his. Eldon persuaded the doctor to employ some of his leisure in examining Tuell. He persuaded Tuell to submit, and the doctor’s verdict came without hesitation40 or delicacy41:
“Appendicitis, old man. The quicker you’re operated on the better for you.”
“What did I tell you?” Tuell snarled42. “Didn’t I say they were like critics? Their only interest in you is to knife you.”
The young doctor laughed. “Perhaps the critics turn up the truth now and then, too.”
But Tuell answered, bitterly: “Well, I’ve got to stand them. I haven’t got to stand for you other butchers.”
Eldon apologized for his friend’s rudeness, but the doctor took no offense43: “It’s his pain that’s talking,” he said. “He’s a sick man. He doesn’t know how sick he is.”
One matinée day Tuell was like a hyena44 in the wings. He swore even at Batterson. On the stage he was more violently merry than ever. After the performance Eldon looked into his dressing-room and asked him to go to dinner with him. Tuell refused gruffly. He would not eat to-day. He would not take off his make-up. The sweat was everywhere about his greasy45 face. His jaw46 hung down and he panted like a sick dog. Eldon offered to bring him in some food—sandwiches or something. Tuell winced47 with nausea48 at the mention. Then an anguish49 twisted through him like a great steel gimlet. He groaned50, unashamed. Eldon could only watch in ignorant helplessness. When the spasm51 was over he said:
“You’ve got to have a doctor, old man.”
“I guess so,” Tuell sighed. “Get that young fellow, Edie. He won’t rob me much. And he’ll wait for his fee.”
Eldon made all haste to fetch Edie from the boarding-house. They returned to find Tuell on the floor of his room, writhing52 and moaning, unheeded in the deserted53 theater. The doctor gave Eldon a telephone number and told him to demand an ambulance at once.
Tuell heard the word, and broke out in such fierce protest that the doctor countermanded54 the order.
“I can’t go to any hospital now,” Tuell raged. “Haven’t you any sense? You know there’s an evening performance. Get me through to-night, and I can rest all day to-morrow. I’ve got to play to-night. I’ve got to! There’s no understudy ready.”
He played. They set a chair for him in the wings and the physician waited there for him, piercing his skin with pain-deadening drugs every time he left the stage. There was sympathy enough from the company. Even Batterson was gentle, his fierce eyes fiercer with the cruelty of the situation. The house was packed, and “ringing down on capacity” is not done.
Tuell sat in a stupor55, breathing hard like a groggy56 prize-fighter. But whenever his cue came it woke him as if a ringside gong had shrilled57. He flung off his suffering and marched out to his punishment. Only, to-night, somehow, he lacked his usual speed. The suffering and the bromides dulled him so that in place of dashing on the stage he sauntered on; in place of slamming his lines back he just uttered them.
And somehow the laughter came that had never come before—the laughter the author had imagined and had won from the company at the first reading from the script.
From the wings they could see Tuell’s knuckles58 whiten where he clung to a chair to keep from falling.
The audience loved Tuell to-night, never suspected his anguishes59, and waited for him, laughed when he appeared. For his final exit he had always stumbled off, whooping60 with stage laughter. It had always resounded61 unaccompanied. To-night he was so spent that he was capable only of a dry little chuckle62. To his ears it was the old uproar63. To the audience it was the delicious giggle64 of this spring’s wind in last year’s leaves. It tickled65 the multitude and all those united titters made a thunder.
Tuell staggered past the dead-line of the wings and fell forward into Eldon’s arms, whispering:
“I got ’em that time. Damn ’em, I got ’em at last.”
Eldon helped him to his chair, helped lift him in his chair and carry him to the ambulance. Tuell didn’t know whither they were taking him. He clawed at Eldon’s arm and muttered:
“I must write to the wife and tell her how I killed ’em to-night. And I’ve got the trick now. I’ve just found the secret—just to-night. Of course there wouldn’t be a critic there. Oh no, of course not.”
But there was a Critic there.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
repulsed
|
|
| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
besieged
|
|
| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
hilarious
|
|
| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
ripening
|
|
| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
ingenuities
|
|
| 足智多谋，心灵手巧( ingenuity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
7
lighting
|
|
| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
cupidity
|
|
| n.贪心，贪财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
duel
|
|
| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
publicity
|
|
| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
craftsmen
|
|
| n. 技工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
pokes
|
|
| v.伸出( poke的第三人称单数 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
deluge
|
|
| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
devoid
|
|
| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
bluff
|
|
| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
craftily
|
|
| 狡猾地，狡诈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
frivolous
|
|
| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
sonorous
|
|
| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
bouquets
|
|
| n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 )；（酒的）芳香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
thwart
|
|
| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
rendering
|
|
| n.表现，描写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
pillory
|
|
| n.嘲弄；v.使受公众嘲笑；将…示众 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
lodgings
|
|
| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
cynical
|
|
| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
snarl
|
|
| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
encyclopedia
|
|
| n.百科全书 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
tragic
|
|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
grimace
|
|
| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
torment
|
|
| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
growl
|
|
| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
parlor
|
|
| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
berated
|
|
| v.严厉责备，痛斥( berate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
snarled
|
|
| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
offense
|
|
| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
hyena
|
|
| n.土狼，鬣狗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
greasy
|
|
| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
jaw
|
|
| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
winced
|
|
| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
nausea
|
|
| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
spasm
|
|
| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
writhing
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
countermanded
|
|
| v.取消（命令），撤回( countermand的过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
55
stupor
|
|
| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
groggy
|
|
| adj.体弱的；不稳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
shrilled
|
|
| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
knuckles
|
|
| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
anguishes
|
|
| v.（尤指心理上的）极度的痛苦( anguish的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
60
whooping
|
|
| 发嗬嗬声的，发咳声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
resounded
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
chuckle
|
|
| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
uproar
|
|
| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
giggle
|
|
| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
tickled
|
|
| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |