“At last.”
“It was a good while. How are you feeling?”
Barth felt a shock of surprise. Did American girls have no reservations?
“A good deal the worse for wear,” the Frenchman was replying, with equal frankness.
Nancy laughed.
“Any particular spot?” she inquired.
“Yes, my head. There’s nothing much to show; but it feels swollen3 to twice its usual size, to-day.”
“I am so sorry,” she answered sympathetically. “Can I do anything for it?”
St. Jacques laughed, as his face lighted with the expression Nancy liked so well.
“Does your pity go a long way?” he asked.
“At your service.”
“To the extent of a walk, after dinner?”
“Yes, if you feel up to it,” she answered. “It is a delightful4 day, and you know I want to hear all about it.”
Towards the middle of the morning, Barth sought the Lady.
“Really, it is none of my affair; but what is the girl thinking of?” he demanded.
The Lady’s mind chanced to be upon the problem involved in a departing waitress.
“What girl?” she asked blankly.
“Miss Howard.”
“What is the matter with Miss Howard now?”
“I don’t know. What can she be thinking of, to go for a walk with a man in his condition?” he expostulated.
“Whose condition?”
“That French Catholic, Mr. St. Jacques.”
“But there’s nothing wrong with his condition. It is only his head,” the Lady explained.
“Oh, yes. That is what I mean. She knows it, too.”
“Of course. We all know it, and we all are so sorry.”
“Naturally. One is always sorry for such things. Sometimes even good fellows get caught. Still, that is no reason a girl should speak of it, to say nothing of going to walk with the fellow. Really, Miss Howard’s father ought to put a stop to it.”
This time, even the Lady lost her patience.
“Really, Mr. Barth, I don’t see why. On your own showing, you asked Miss Howard to let you walk home from the library with her, two days ago.”
“Yes. But that was different.”
“I don’t see how. M. St. Jacques is as much a gentleman as you are.”
“Oh. Do you think so? But what about his head?”
For the instant, the Lady questioned the stability of Barth’s own head.
“I really can’t see how that enters into the question at all. Even a gentleman is liable to be hit on the head, when he is playing lacrosse.”
“Lacrosse?”
“Yes. M. St. Jacques spent yesterday at Three Rivers with the lacrosse team from Laval.”
“Oh.” In his mortification6 at his own blunder, Barth’s oh was more dissyllabic even than usual. “I didn’t understand. I thought it was only the result of the banquet.”
The haunt of tourists and the prey11 of every artist, be his tools brushes or mere12 words, Sous-le-Cap remains13 the crowning joy of ancient Quebec. The inconsequent bends in its course, the wood flooring of its roadway, the criss-cross network of galleries and verandas14 which join the two rows of houses and throw the street into a shadow still deeper than that cast by the overhanging cape15, the wall of naked rock that juts16 out here and there between the houses piled helter-skelter against the base of the cliff: these details have endured for generations, and succeeding generations well may pray for their continued endurance. Quebec could far better afford to lose the whole ornate length of the Grand Allée than even one half the flying galleries and fluttering clothes-lines of little Sous-le-Cap.
“And yet,” St. Jacques said thoughtfully; “this hardly makes me proud of my countrymen.”
From the many-colored garments flapping on the clothes-lines, Nancy glanced down at a scarlet-coated child playing in the open doorway17 of a shop at her side.
“Don’t think of the sociological aspect of the case,” she advised him. “Once in a while, it is better to be simply picturesque18 than it is to be hygienic. I have seen a good deal of America; I know nothing to compare with this.”
St. Jacques picked his way daintily among the rubbish.
“I hope not. I also hope there’s not much in France.”
“You have been there?” Nancy questioned.
“Not yet. After two more years at Laval.”
“To live there?”
“Only to study. My home is here.”
“Not in Quebec?”
“No. In Rimouski. I am a countryman,” he added, with a smile.
“And shall you go back there?”
“It is impossible to tell. I hope not; but my father is growing older, and there are little children. In a case like that, one can never choose for himself,” he said, with a little accent of regret.
“But your profession,” Nancy reminded him. “Will there be any opening for it there?”
“There is always an opening. It is only a question whether one feels too large to try to enter it. If I were as free as Mr. Brock, I would come back here, or go to The States. As it is, I am not free.”
“Tell me about Rimouski,” Nancy urged him.
“What do you care to know? It is a little place. The ocean-going steamers stop there; there is a cathedral and a seminary.”
“Is it pretty?”
His eyes lighted.
“I was born there, Miss Howard. It is impossible for me to say. Perhaps sometime you may see it for yourself.”
The next minute, she felt herself blushing, as she met the eager look on the face of her companion, and she hurried away from the dangerous subject.
“How long shall you be abroad?” she asked hastily.
“Two years.”
“Nearly five years before you go into your professional work.”
“Yes.” His accent dropped a little. “It is long to wait.”
“It depends on the way the time goes,” Nancy suggested, with a fresh determination to drive the minor21 key from his voice. “Between banquets and lacrosse matches and broken heads, your days ought not to drag. Was it really so bad a bump you had?”
Pushing his cap still farther to the back of his head, St. Jacques lifted the dark hair from his forehead.
“So much,” he said coolly, as he displayed a short, deep cut.
Nancy exclaimed in horror.
“M. St. Jacques! And you take it without a word of complaint.”
This time, he laughed.
“Complaint never mends a split head, Miss Howard. We Frenchmen take our knocks and say nothing.”
“Is that aimed at Mr. Barth?” Nancy asked.
“Really,” she urged; “he didn’t complain.”
“No; but he talked about it more than I cared to listen.”
“Aren’t you a little hard on him, M. St. Jacques?”
The Frenchman looked up in surprise.
“Is he your friend, then?” he queried gravely.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Nancy was vainly struggling to frame her reply according to the strictest truth. “I think he thought so; but now we don’t know.”
“I am afraid I do not understand,” St. Jacques said, with slow formality. “As your friend, I shall treat him with respect. Otherwise—”
“Oh, he isn’t my friend,” Nancy explained hurriedly. “We have had an awful fight; at least, not exactly a fight, but I was rude to him.”
St. Jacques interrupted her.
“Then it will make up for some of the times he has been rude to me, and I shall be still more in your debt.”
Nancy shook her head ruefully.
“No; we can’t square our accounts that way, M. St. Jacques. I have seen Mr. Barth detestably rude to you, and it never once has dawned upon him that he wasn’t the very pink of courtesy. With me, it was different. I did my very best, not only to be rude to him; but to have him know that I meant it.”
Again came the answering flash over the Frenchman’s face.
“I’m not, then,” Nancy said flatly. “I hate making apologies.”
“Then let him apologize to you,” St. Jacques suggested, laughing. “He has no right to put himself in the wrong so far as to make you feel it worth your while to be rude to him.”
Nancy laughed in her turn.
“M. St. Jacques, you do not like Mr. Barth,” she said merrily.
“No, Miss Howard; I do not. It will be a happy day for me, when he takes himself out to his ranch24.”
“But I shall have gone, long before that,” she said thoughtfully.
St. Jacques turned upon her with a suddenness which startled her.
“So soon as that?”
“Sooner. Three or four weeks more here will see the end of our stay.”
The blood rolled hotly upward across his swarthy face. Then it rolled back again, leaving behind it a pallor that brought his thin lips and resolute25 chin into strong relief.
“I am sorry,” he said slowly. “I thought you had come to stay.”
“Only till my father has ransacked26 every book in your Laval library,” she said, with intentional27 lightness.
He declined to answer her tone. The words of his reply dropped, clear, distinct, slow, upon her ears.
“No matter. Perhaps some day you may come back to Canada, Miss Howard, come back, I mean, to stay.”
Nancy drew two or three short, quick breaths. Then she laughed with a forced mirth.
St. Jacques faced her.
His dark eyes held hers for a moment. Then she found herself repeating his words,—
“Yes, and the Canadians.”
A moment later, she gave a sudden start of surprise and relief. Rounding a sharp angle in the winding30 street, they had found themselves directly upon the heels of Mr. Cecil Barth who was sauntering slowly along just ahead of them. Turning at the sound of their feet on the board roadway, he bowed to Nancy with deprecating courtesy, to her companion with studied carelessness.
Nancy’s quick eye caught the veiled hostility31 of the salute32 exchanged by the two men. Her own poise33 was shaken by the little scene through which she had just been passing, but she made a desperate effort to regain34 control of the situation.
“Mr. Barth,” she said impetuously.
Barth had resumed his stroll. At her words, he turned back instantly.
“Why not wait for us?” she suggested, as she held out her hand with frank cordiality. “M. St. Jacques deserves congratulations from us all, for his record at lacrosse, yesterday; and I know you’ll like to add your voice to the general chorus. And, besides that, I owe you an apology. I was very rude to you, yesterday; but, at least, I have the saving grace to be thoroughly35 ashamed of myself, to-day.”
And Barth, as he took her hand, felt that that minute atoned36 for many a bad half-hour she had given him in the past.
Together, they came out from under the hanging balconies, strayed on through Sault-au-Matelot and, coming up Mountain Hill Street, wandered out along the Battery. There they lingered to lean on the wall and stare across the river at the heights of Lévis bathed in its sunset light which is neither purple, nor yet altogether of gold. To Nancy, the light was typical of the hour. The girl was no egotist; yet all at once she instinctively37 realized that one or the other of these men was holding the key to her life. Which it should be, as yet she could not know. The hour had come, unsought, unexpected. For the present, it was better to drift. The mood of St. Jacques was kindred to her own. As for Barth, he was supremely38 content, without in the least knowing why his recent dissatisfaction should have fallen from him.
While they lingered by the wall, to watch the fading glow, Dr. Howard suddenly stepped out into the road behind them. As he came through the gate in the old stone wall, his glance rested upon the trio of familiar figures, and his voice rang out in hearty39 greeting.
“Well, Nancy,” he called. “Are you watching for a hostile fleet?”
With the eagerness which never failed to welcome him, she turned to face her father; but, midway in her turning, she was stopped by Barth’s voice.
“Nancy!” he echoed. “Are you another Nancy Howard?”
“No,” she said, with fearless directness. “So far as I know, Mr. Barth, I am the only one.”
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收听单词发音
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1
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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3
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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8
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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12
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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verandas
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| 阳台，走廊( veranda的名词复数 ) | |
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15
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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16
juts
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| v.（使）突出( jut的第三人称单数 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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17
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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18
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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19
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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20
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
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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22
negation
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| n.否定；否认 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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ransacked
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| v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
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27
intentional
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| adj.故意的，有意（识）的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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29
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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30
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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31
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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32
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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33
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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34
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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35
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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36
atoned
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| v.补偿，赎（罪）( atone的过去式和过去分词 )；补偿，弥补，赎回 | |
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37
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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39
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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40
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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