Beach, the butler, solicitously21 scooping22 them out of the car at the front door, announced that her ladyship and Miss Peavey were taking their after-dinner coffee in the arbour by the bowling-green; and presently Psmith, conducted by his lordship, found himself shaking hands with a strikingly handsome woman in whom, though her manner was friendliness23 itself, he could detect a marked suggestion of the formidable. ?sthetically, he admired Lady Constance’s appearance, but he could not conceal24 from himself that in the peculiar25 circumstances he would have preferred something rather more fragile and drooping26. Lady Constance[p. 128] conveyed the impression that anybody who had the choice between stealing anything from her and stirring up a nest of hornets with a short walking-stick would do well to choose the hornets.
“How do you do, Mr. McTodd?” said Lady Constance with great amiability28. “I am so glad you were able to come after all.”
Psmith wondered what she meant by “after all,” but there were so many things about his present situation calculated to tax the mind that he had no desire to probe slight verbal ambiguities29. He shook her hand and replied that it was very kind of her to say so.
“We are quite a small party at present,” continued Lady Constance, “but we are expecting a number of people quite soon. For the moment Aileen and you are our only guests. Oh, I am sorry, I should have . . . Miss Peavey, Mr. McTodd.”
The slim and willowy female who during this brief conversation had been waiting in an attitude of suspended animation30, gazing at Psmith with large, wistful eyes, stepped forward. She clasped Psmith’s hand in hers, held it, and in a low, soft voice, like thick cream made audible, uttered one reverent31 word.
“Ma?tre!”
“I beg your pardon?” said Psmith. A young man capable of bearing himself with calm and dignity in most circumstances, however trying, he found his poise32 wobbling under the impact of Miss Aileen Peavey.
Miss Peavey often had this effect on the less soulful type of man, especially in the mornings, when such men are not at their strongest and best. When she came into the breakfast-room of a country house, brave men who had been up a bit late the night before quailed33 and tried to hide behind newspapers. She was the sort of woman who tells a man who is propping34 his[p. 129] eyes open with his fingers and endeavouring to correct a headache with strong tea, that she was up at six watching the dew fade off the grass, and didn’t he think that those wisps of morning mist were the elves’ bridal-veils. She had large, fine, melancholy35 eyes, and was apt to droop27 dreamily.
“Master!” said Miss Peavey, obligingly translating.
There did not seem to be any immediate come-back to a remark like this, so Psmith contented36 himself with beaming genially37 at her through his monocle: and Miss Peavey came to bat again.
“How wonderful that you were able to come—after all!”
“You know Miss Peavey’s work, of course?” said Lady Constance, smiling pleasantly on her two celebrities39.
“Who does not?” said Psmith courteously40.
“Oh, do you?” said Miss Peavey, gratification causing her slender body to perform a sort of ladylike shimmy down its whole length. “I scarcely hoped that you would know my name. My Canadian sales have not been large.”
“Quite large enough,” said Psmith. “I mean, of course,” he added with a paternal41 smile, “that, while your delicate art may not have a universal appeal in a young country, it is intensely appreciated by a small and select body of the intelligentsia.”
And if that was not the stuff to give them, he reflected with not a little complacency, he was dashed.
“Your own wonderful poems,” replied Miss Peavey, “are, of course, known the whole world over. Oh, Mr. McTodd, you can hardly appreciate how I feel, meeting you. It is like the realisation of some golden dream of childhood. It is like . . .”
Here the Hon. Freddie Threepwood remarked[p. 130] suddenly that he was going to pop into the house for a whisky and soda42. As he had not previously43 spoken, his observation had something of the effect of a voice from the tomb. The daylight was ebbing44 fast now, and in the shadows he had contrived45 to pass out of sight as well as out of mind. Miss Peavey started like an abruptly46 awakened47 somnambulist, and Psmith was at last able to release his hand, which he had begun to look on as gone beyond his control for ever. Until this fortunate interruption there had seemed no reason why Miss Peavey should not have continued to hold it till bedtime.
Freddie’s departure had the effect of breaking a spell. Lord Emsworth, who had been standing48 perfectly49 still with vacant eyes, like a dog listening to a noise a long way off, came to life with a jerk.
“I’m going to have a look at my flowers,” he announced.
“Don’t be silly, Clarence,” said his sister. “It’s much too dark to see flowers.”
“I could smell ’em,” retorted his lordship argumentatively.
It seemed as if the party must break up, for already his lordship had begun to potter off, when a new-comer arrived to solidify50 it again.
“Ah, Baxter, my dear fellow,” said Lord Emsworth. “Here we are, you see.”
“Mr. Baxter,” said Lady Constance, “I want you to meet Mr. McTodd.”
“Mr. McTodd!” said the new arrival, on a note of surprise.
“Yes, he found himself able to come after all.”
“Ah!” said the Efficient Baxter.
It occurred to Psmith as a passing thought, to which he gave no more than a momentary51 attention, that[p. 131] this spectacled and capable-looking man was gazing at him, as they shook hands, with a curious intensity52. But possibly, he reflected, this was merely a species of optical illusion due to the other’s spectacles. Baxter, staring through his spectacles, often gave people the impression of possessing an eye that could pierce six inches of harveyised steel and stick out on the other side. Having registered in his consciousness the fact that he had been stared at keenly by this stranger, Psmith thought no more of the matter.
In thus lightly dismissing the Baxterian stare, Psmith had acted injudiciously. He should have examined it more closely and made an effort to analyse it, for it was by no means without its message. It was a stare of suspicion. Vague suspicion as yet, but nevertheless suspicion. Rupert Baxter was one of those men whose chief characteristic is a disposition53 to suspect their fellows. He did not suspect them of this or that definite crime: he simply suspected them. He had not yet definitely accused Psmith in his mind of any specific tort or malfeasance. He merely had a nebulous feeling that he would bear watching.
Miss Peavey now fluttered again into the centre of things. On the arrival of Baxter she had withdrawn54 for a moment into the background, but she was not the woman to stay there long. She came forward holding out a small oblong book, which, with a languishing55 firmness, she pressed into Psmith’s hands.
“Could I persuade you, Mr. McTodd,” said Miss Peavey pleadingly, “to write some little thought in my autograph-book and sign it? I have a fountain-pen.”
Light flooded the arbour. The Efficient Baxter, who knew where everything was, had found and pressed the switch. He did this not so much to oblige[p. 132] Miss Peavey as to enable him to obtain a clearer view of the visitor. With each minute that passed the Efficient Baxter was finding himself more and more doubtful in his mind about this visitor.
“There!” said Miss Peavey, welcoming the illumination.
Psmith tapped his chin thoughtfully with the fountain-pen. He felt that he should have foreseen this emergency earlier. If ever there was a woman who was bound to have an autograph-book, that woman was Miss Peavey.
“Just some little thought . . .”
Psmith hesitated no longer. In a firm hand he wrote the words “Across the pale parabola of Joy . . .” added an unfaltering “Ralston McTodd,” and handed the book back.
“How strange,” sighed Miss Peavey.
“May I look?” said Baxter, moving quickly to her side.
“How strange!” repeated Miss Peavey. “To think that you should have chosen that line! There are several of your more mystic passages that I meant to ask you to explain, but particularly ‘Across the pale parabola of Joy’ . . .”
“You find it difficult to understand?”
“A little, I confess.”
“Well, well,” said Psmith indulgently, “perhaps I did put a bit of top-spin on that one.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I say, perhaps it is a little obscure. We must have a long chat about it—later on.”
“Why not now?” demanded the Efficient Baxter, flashing his spectacles.
“I am rather tired,” said Psmith with gentle reproach, “after my journey. Fatigued56. We artists . . .”
“Of course,” said Miss Peavey, with an indignant[p. 133] glance at the secretary. “Mr. Baxter does not understand the sensitive poetic57 temperament58.”
“A bit unspiritual, eh?” said Psmith tolerantly. “A trifle earthy? So I thought, so I thought. One of these strong, hard men of affairs, I shouldn’t wonder.”
“Shall we go and find Lord Emsworth, Mr. McTodd?” said Miss Peavey, dismissing the fermenting59 Baxter with a scornful look. “He wandered off just now. I suppose he is among his flowers. Flowers are very beautiful by night.”
“Indeed, yes,” said Psmith. “And also by day. When I am surrounded by flowers, a sort of divine peace floods over me, and the rough, harsh world seems far away. I feel soothed60, tranquil61. I sometimes think, Miss Peavey, that flowers must be the souls of little children who have died in their innocence62.”
“What a beautiful thought, Mr. McTodd!” exclaimed Miss Peavey rapturously.
“Yes,” agreed Psmith. “Don’t pinch it. It’s copyright.”
The darkness swallowed them up. Lady Constance turned to the Efficient Baxter, who was brooding with furrowed63 brow.
“Charming, is he not?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said I thought Mr. McTodd was charming.”
“Oh, quite.”
“Completely unspoiled.”
“Oh, decidedly.”
“I am so glad that he was able to come after all. That telegram he sent this afternoon cancelling his visit seemed so curt65 and final.”
“So I thought it.”
[p. 134]“Quite.”
Lady Constance shivered delicately. A cool breeze had sprung up. She drew her wrap more closely about her shapely shoulders, and began to walk to the house. Baxter did not accompany her. The moment she had gone he switched off the light and sat down, chin in hand. That massive brain was working hard.
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1
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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2
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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3
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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4
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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5
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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6
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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7
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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8
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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9
tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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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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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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13
fluting
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| 有沟槽的衣料； 吹笛子； 笛声； 刻凹槽 | |
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14
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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15
stimulant
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| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
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16
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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17
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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18
anthem
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| n.圣歌，赞美诗，颂歌 | |
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19
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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20
opprobrious
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| adj.可耻的，辱骂的 | |
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21
solicitously
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| adv.热心地，热切地 | |
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22
scooping
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| n.捞球v.抢先报道( scoop的现在分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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23
friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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24
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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25
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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26
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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27
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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28
amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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29
ambiguities
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| n.歧义( ambiguity的名词复数 )；意义不明确；模棱两可的意思；模棱两可的话 | |
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30
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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31
reverent
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| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
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32
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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33
quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
propping
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| 支撑 | |
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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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36
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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38
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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40
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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41
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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42
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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43
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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44
ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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45
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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46
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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47
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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48
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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49
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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50
solidify
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| v.(使)凝固，(使)固化，(使)团结 | |
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51
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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52
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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53
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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54
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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55
languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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56
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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57
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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58
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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59
fermenting
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| v.（使）发酵( ferment的现在分词 )；（使）激动；骚动；骚扰 | |
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60
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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61
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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62
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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63
furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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65
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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