Bret seized his right hand, Eldon his left. Bret was horrified4 at the ghostly visage of his friend. Already it had a post-mortem look.
Vickery saw the shock in Bret’s eyes. He dropped into a seat.
“Don’t tell me how bad I look. I know it. But I don’t care. I’ve finished my play! Incidentally my play has finished me. But what does that matter? I put into it
all there was of me. That’s what I’m here for. That’s why there’s nothing much left. But I’m glad. I’ve done all I can. J’ai fait mon possible. It’s glorious
to do that. And it’s a good play. It’s a great play—though I do say it that shouldn’t. Floyd, I’ve got it!” He turned back to Bret. “Poor Floyd here has heard
me read it a dozen times, and he’s suggested a thousand changes. I was in the vein5 this morning. I worked all day yesterday, and all night till sunrise. Then I was up
at seven. When you called me I was writing like a madman. And when the lunch hour came I was going so fast I didn’t dare stop then even to telephone. I apologize.”
“Please don’t,” said Bret.
He rang for a waiter and ordered a substantial meal and then returned to Bret.
“How’s Sheila?”
“She—she’s not well.”
“What a shame! She ought to be at work and I wish to the Lord she were. I may as well tell you, Bret, that I took the liberty of imagining Sheila as the principal
woman of my play. And now that it’s finished, I can’t think of anybody who fills the bill except your wife. There are thousands of actresses starving to death, but
none of them suits my character. None of them could play it but your Sheila.”
“Then for God’s sake let her play it!” Bret groaned9. Vickery, astonished beyond surprise, mumbled10, “What did you say?”
Bret repeated his prayer, explained the situation to the incredulous Vickery, apologized for himself and his plight11. Vickery’s joy came slowly with belief. The red
When he understood, he murmured: “Bret, you’re a better man than I thought you were. Whether or not you’ve saved Sheila’s life, you’ve certainly saved mine.” A
torment13 of coughing broke down his boast, and he amended14, “Artistically, I mean. You’ve saved my play, and that’s all that counts. The one sorrow of mine was that
when I had finished it there was no one to give it life. But what if Sheila doesn’t like it? What if she refuses!”
His woe15 was so profound that Bret reached across the table and squeezed his arm—it was hardly more than a bone. Bret said, “I’ll make her like it!”
“She’s sure to,” Eldon said.
Vickery broke in: “You ought to hear him read it. Sometimes he reads a doubtful scene to me. Then it sounds greater to me than I ever dreamed. A manuscript is like an
electric-light bulb, all glass and brass16 and little loops of thread that don’t mean anything. When the right actor reads it it fills with light like a bowl of fire
and shines into dark places.” His mood was so grave that it influenced his language.
Bret said, “Let me take the manuscript to Sheila.”
Vickery frowned. “It’s not in shape for her eyes. It ought to be read to her.”
“Come read it to her, then.”
“My voice is gone and I cough all the time, but if—”
He paused. He did not dare suggest that Eldon read it for him. Eldon did not dare to volunteer. Bret did not dare to ask him. But at length, after a silence of crucial
“Perhaps Mr. Eldon would be—would be willing to read it.”
“I should be very glad to,” said Eldon in a low tone.
It was strange how solemn and tremulous they were all three over so small a matter. A razor edge is a small thing, but a most uncomfortable place to balance.
Vickery broke out with a revulsion to hope. “Great!” he exclaimed. “When?”
“This afternoon would please me best,” said Bret, rather sickly, now that the business had gone so far. “If Mr. Eldon—”
“I am free till seven,” said Eldon.
“I’ll go back and ask Mrs. Winfield, if she hasn’t gone out,” said Bret, rising.
“I’ll go fasten the manuscript together,” said Vickery, rising.
“I’ll go along and glance over the new scenes,” said Eldon, rising.
“Telephone me at my place,” said Vickery, “and let me know one way or the other as soon as you can. The suspense18 is killing19.”
They walked out on the steps of the club, and Bret hailed a passing taxicab. As he turned round he saw Eldon lifting Vickery into a car that was evidently his own, for
he took the wheel.
The nearer he got to the hotel the more Bret repented20 of his rash venture, the uglier it looked from various angles. He hoped that Sheila would be at the
dressmaker’s, contenting herself with rhapsodies in silk.
But she was sitting at the window. She was dressed, but her eyes were dull as she turned to greet him.
“How are you, honey?” he asked.
“I’m all right,” she sighed. The old phrase!
Then he knew he had crossed the Rubicon and must go forward. “Why didn’t you go to your fitting?”
“I tried to, but I was too weak. I don’t need any new clothes. How was your business talk?”
“I can’t tell yet,” he said, and, after a battle with his stage-fright, broached21 the most serious business of his life. He had a right to be a bad actor and he read
wretchedly the lines he improvised22 on his own scenario23. “By the way, I stumbled across Eugene Vickery this afternoon.”
“Oh, did you? How is he?”
“Pretty sick. He’s just finished a new play.”
“Oh, has he?”
“He says it’s the work of his life.”
“Poor boy!”
“I don’t think he’ll write another.”
“Great heavens! Is he so bad?”
“Terribly weak. I told him you were in town and he was anxious to see you.”
“Why didn’t you invite him up?”
“I did. He said he’d like to come this afternoon if you were willing.”
“By all means. Better call him up at once.”
Bret went to the telephone, but turned to say, trying to be casual, “He asked if you’d be interested in hearing his play.”
Bret cleared his throat guiltily. “I told him I was sure you’d be dying to hear it, and he said he wondered if you would mind if he—er—brought along a friend to
read it. Vick’s voice is so weak, you know.”
“I’m not in the mood for strangers, but if Vickery wants it, why—of course. Did he say who it was?”
“Floyd Eldon.”
That name had a way of dropping into the air like a meteor. When two lovers have fought over an outsider’s name that name always recurs25 with all its battle clamor. It
is as hard to mention idly as “Gettysburg” or “Waterloo.”
Sheila knew what Bret had said of Eldon, what he had thought of him and done to him. She was amazed, and it is hard not to look guilty when old accusations26 of guilt
are remembered. Bret saw the sudden tensity in her hands where they held the arms of her chair. He felt a miserable27 return of the old nausea28, the incurable29 regret of
love that it can never count on complete possession of its love, past, present, and future. But he was committed now to the conviction that he could not keep Sheila
behind bars, and had no right to try. He had given her back to herself and the world, as one uncages a bird, hoping that it will hover30 about the house and return, but
never sure what will draw it, or whither, once it has climbed into the sky.
To escape the ordeal31 of watching Sheila, and the ordeal of being questioned, he called up Vickery’s’ number and told him to come over at once, and added, “Both of
you.”
Then he hung up the receiver and went forward to face Sheila’s eyes. He told her all that had happened except his appeal to Eldon and their conspiracy32 to get her back
on the stage.
She was agitated33 immensely, and risked his further suspicion by setting to work to primp and to change her gown to one that her nature found more appropriate to such
Eldon and Vickery arrived while she was in the dressing-room, and Bret whispered to them:
“I haven’t told her that the play is for her. Don’t let her know.”
This threw Eldon and Vickery into confusion, and they greeted Sheila with helpless insincerity.
She saw how feeble Vickery was and how well Eldon was, and both saw that she was not the Sheila that had left the stage. Eldon felt a resentment35 against Winfield for
what time and discontent had wrought36 to Sheila, but he knew what the theater can do for impaired37 beauty with make-up and artifice38 of lights.
After a certain amount of small talk and fuss about chairs the reading began. To Bret it was like a death-warrant; to Vickery and Eldon it was a writ6 of habeas corpus;
to Sheila it was like the single copy of a great romance that she could never own.
Eldon read without action or gesticulation and with almost no attempt to indicate dialect or characterization. But he gave hint enough of each to set the hearers’
Outside in the far-below streets was a muffled40 hubbub41 of motors and street-cars. And within there was only the heavy elegance42 of hotel furniture. But the listeners
felt themselves peering into the lives of living people in a conflict of interests.
The light in the room grew dimmer and dimmer as Eldon read, till the air was thick with the deep crimson43 of sunset straining across the roofs. It served as the very
rose-light of daybreak in which the play ended, calling the husband and wife to their separate tasks in the new manhood and the new womanhood, outside the new home to
Bret hated the play because he loved it, because he felt that it had a right to be and it needed his wife to give it being; because it seemed to command him to
sacrifice his old-fashioned home for the sake of the ever-demanding world.
Sheila made no comment at all during the reading. She might have been an allegory of attention.
Even when Eldon closed the manuscript and the play with the quiet word “Curtain” Sheila did not speak. The three men watched her for a long hushed moment, and then
She murmured, feebly: “Who is the lucky woman that is to—to create it?”
“You!” said Bret.
Woman-like, Sheila’s first emotion at the vision of her husband urging her to go back on the stage was one of pain and terror. She stared at Bret through the tears
“Oh, my God!” said Bret.
But when he collapsed48 Vickery took the floor and harangued49 her till she yielded, to be rid of him and of Eldon, that she might question her husband.
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收听单词发音
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1
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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famished
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| adj.饥饿的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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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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plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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Amended
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| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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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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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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scenario
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| n.剧本，脚本；概要 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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recurs
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| 再发生，复发( recur的第三人称单数 ) | |
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accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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27
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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30
hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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32
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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audition
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| n.(对志愿艺人等的)面试(指试读、试唱等) | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
artifice
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| n.妙计，高明的手段；狡诈，诡计 | |
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hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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40
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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41
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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42
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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43
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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44
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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45
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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47
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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48
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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49
harangued
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| v.高谈阔论( harangue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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