Lady Pomphrey paused for breath, and the intimate friend-they had met at Bad Smellstein a fortnight previously2 while taking little early morning walks, and drinking little glasses of excessively nauseous waters warranted to correct the most aristocratic acidity—the intimate friend murmured something sympathetic.
“Of course, I might have known one could look to you for comprehension and all that sort of thing,” said Lady Pomphrey, graciously bending her head, which was enveloped3 318in a large mushroom hat of blue straw tied down all round with a drab silk veil, and patting the intimate friend upon the knee with the stick of her celebrated4 green silk sunshade. “One of those delightful5 literary creatures-was it Algernon Meredith or George Swinburne?—has termed friendship ‘the marriage of true minds.’ Ever since the Hambridge-Osts introduced us—in a thunderstorm—at the firework display in the Park in honor of the Grand Duke’s birthday—and being Sunday, I will own that the nerve-shattering meteorological demonstrations7 that drove us to shelter in that extremely leaky Chinese pavilion seemed to me but a judgment8 upon German Sabbath-breakers—ours has been such a union. Cemented by your helpfulness in the matter of sandbags for a rattling9 window—Lord Pomphrey is completely impervious10 to all such nerve-shattering tortures, and will sleep happily in his cabin on the yacht in Cowes Roads through a Royal Naval11 Review—and your timely ministrations with soda-mint lozenges when acute indigestion virtually prostrated12 me after a homicidal plat of eels13 with cranberry-sauce, of which I foolishly partook at the table d’h?te. The mysteriousness of it allured14 me. I wished for once to feel like a German. Now I feel assured their extraordinary diet accounts for much that is abstruse15 and metaphysical in the national character. For you cannot possibly be normal if you are fed upon abnormal things. And I am grateful that Rustleton has never shown himself in the least susceptible16 to the attractions of their women. I know—almost quite intimately—a Grand Duchess who has brought up every one of her nine young daughters upon red-cabbage soup, with sausage-meat balls and dumplings; and somehow it is suggested in the girls’ complexions17 and figures—especially the dumplings.”
The friend tittered. Lady Pomphrey placed upon the seat beside her a straw handbag containing a Tauchnitz 319edition of the last new Mudie novel, a black fan, a large bottle of frightfully strong salts, several spare pocket-handkerchiefs, several indelible-ink pencils, and a quantity of obsolete18 railway tickets, and became more confidential19 than ever.
“Had I been consulted by destiny when the arrangement of Rustleton’s matrimonial future came sur le tapis I could not—with my expiring breath I would repeat this—could not be more completely satisfied. It began by his hating her.... She hit him on the nose with a diabolo in June at Ranelagh, and, ‘Mother,’ he said afterwards to me—his upper lip perfectly20 rigid21 with wounded dignity—‘I should have greatly preferred to have been born in the days of “Coningsby,” or “Lothair.” Muscular young women create in me a feeling of positive aversion!’ He found her agitating22 even at that early stage of affairs? How subtle of you to see that!”
The flattered friend murmured an interrogation.
“Who is she?” repeated Lady Pomphrey. “But surely the newspapers?... You suffer too acutely from dancing spots in the field of vision ever to read when undergoing a cure?... Poor dear, I can feel for you. She is the Hon. Céline Twissing—will be Baroness23 Twissing of Hopsacks in her own right when old Lord Twissing dies. He insisted upon that arrangement in the interests of his only child; when the intimation was conveyed from a Certain Quarter that the Jubilee25 Baronetcy he already enjoyed would be changed into a Peerage did he encourage the idea. Quite a bluff26 old English type, and I must say in hospitality Imperial. ‘Twissing’s Bonded27 Breweries28.’... A colossal29 fortune, and that sweet girl is to inherit nearly the whole. Shall I say that my heart went out to her from the first instant I saw her? As a mother yourself, you will understand! Here comes the young woman with the tray 320for our glasses. Ja, bitte, Ich danke Sie.... You don’t mean to tell me the creature is a Cockney?... How distressing30! I may be fanciful, possibly I am,” said Lady Pomphrey, “but I do prefer my surroundings to be congruous and in tone. I’m sure you feel what I convey? You do? How nice that is!...”
The friend smiled and inaudibly murmured something.
“Of course,” cried Lady Pomphrey, “you’re on thorns to hear all about Rustleton’s love-match. As I told you, Céline Twissing—the Christian31 name has been Gallicized from Selina—and why on earth not? Céline is an expert at diabolo. It’s a knack32, sending these little black and red demons6 as high as a house, or into your neighbor’s eye; and she is a talented as well as a charming girl. With three languages, several sciences, a system of physical-culture exercises, golf, tennis, and the laws of hockey at her finger-ends, she would have gone far in these days of violent recreations and brusque manners, even without a dot. Masculine? Oh dear no! Perhaps deficient33 in reverence34 for what we were taught to believe in as the superior sex. Perhaps lacking in feminine finesse35. I have heard it said that the girl of the twentieth century cannot cajole, and is ignorant how to be alluring36. Perhaps it is a pity. The woman who has a gift of managing difficult people, smoothing absurd people down, and being perfectly amiable37 to the absolutely objectionable is practically priceless as a greaser of the social cog-wheels. Now Céline calls that sort of woman, plumply and plainly, a hypocrite.... But is it not a woman’s duty to be a hypocrite, if telling the truth to everybody makes the world a place of gnashing?” demanded Lady Pomphrey, making her eyebrows38 climb up out of sight under the shadow of her mushroom hat.
“You understand, then, how dissonant41 was the chord 321Céline Twissing struck in Rustleton. With his Plantagenet dash in the blood, his hereditary42 intolerance of anything smacking43 of vulgarity, his medieval attitude of chivalry44 towards Woman, his Early Victorian dislike of the outré and the bizarre, he frankly45 found her intolerable. ‘In a drawing-room,’ he said to me in confidence, ‘that girl reminds me of a Polar bear in a hothouse.’ Where the boy could have seen one I cannot imagine—probably it was only a young man’s daring figure of speech. Shall we walk about a little? I think I felt a twinge.”
The friend agreed, and, gently ambling46 up and down the Kreuzbrunnen Promenade47, Lady Pomphrey continued her narrative48.
“Rustleton said she was a New Girl of the worst type. Then came the diabolo affair, which, considering Céline’s remarkable49 knack, I cannot think accidental. The bridge of Rustleton’s nose was seriously contused, and his monocle was shattered—fortunately without danger to the eye. He took no revenge beyond an epigram, quite worthy50 of La Rochefou—what’s his name?... She is keen on dancing, unlike other muscular girls; and said so in my boy’s near vicinity. ‘Why not? She has hops24 in her blood,’ he uttered. Of course, a little bird carried it to her ear.... How d’ye do, Lady Frederica? How d’ye do, Count Pyffer? I quite agree with you.... Piercing winds, varied52 by muggy53 airlessness and a distressingly54 relaxing warmth, have made the last eight days intolerable.... My dear, where was I when I left off?” The suffering friend indicated the point. Lady Pomphrey continued:
“And after all they have come together. Quite a romance. If a mother’s prayers have any influence, ... and I am old-fashioned enough to believe they have.... But I knew Rustleton too well to breathe a hint of my hopes. I did not stoop to intrigue55, as some mothers 322would, to bring the young people together. But dearest Jane, who is always my right hand, conceived a devoted56 friendship for Céline just at the psychological moment, and owing to that she and Rustleton were constantly thrown in each other’s way. Céline quite exerted herself to be overwhelmingly unpleasant. Jane says that during a bicycling excursion in the neighborhood of our place at Cluckham-Pomphrey, she offered to help him to lift his machine over a stile, and would have done it unaided and alone if Rustleton had not peremptorily57 seized the frame-bar, gripping both her hands in his. On Jane’s authority, she crimsoned59 to the hat, throwing him off like a feather, and, mounting her machine, was out of sight in an instant. He was icily sarcastic60 on the subject of muscular young women all the way home, and limited his dinner to clear soup and a single cutlet with dry toast, while Céline went through all the courses in her usual thoroughgoing way. They are not in the least ashamed to eat, do you notice?—these golfing, hockey-playing, open-air young people.... Now you and I can recall placing a solid barrier of five o’clock cake and muffins between undue61 appetite and the eight o’clock dinner, at which we merely toyed with our knives and forks, trusting to our maids to have a tray of cold eatables ready in the bedroom for consumption while our hair was being brushed. Of course! ‘but these girls devour62 at tea, wolf at dinner’—I quote Rustleton—‘and probably stodge sandwiches and cold chicken and chocolate-wafers before they plunge63 into their beds. When there, how they must snore!’
“His eye gleamed with such feverish64 malignancy as he said this, that I involuntarily dropped a quantity of stitches in the silk necktie I was knitting for him—a soothing65 neutral shade not calculated to call attention to the tinge66 of bile in his complexion—and exclaimed, ‘Good Heavens!’ He immediately begged my pardon 323and bade me ‘good-night,’ whispering that he had arranged to shoot over the lower sixty acres with Stubbins, the head keeper—purely as a filial duty, Pomphrey not feeling robust67 enough to undertake it this year....
“Whether it was my having breathed a hint of this to Jane—who is, as a rule, a grave for chance confidence—or whether Miss Twissing had overheard, how can I say? But she and Stubbins were waiting for my boy on the following morning, Stubbins—who loathes68 sporting women—in a state of complacency that only a five-pound note could have brought about. Her beautiful Bond-street self-ejecting breechloader, her cap, tweeds, and gaiters were the dernier cri, and with the coolest self-possession she wiped my poor boy’s eye over and over again. Out of thirty brace69 of birds before luncheon70 only three and a half fell to his gun, and those were of the red-legged French description, ‘bred for duffers to blaze at,’ according to Lord Pomphrey. Rustleton went up to town that night, charging Jane with all sorts of civil messages for Miss Twissing, and slept at his Club, which was being painted and disagreed with him excessively.”
The friend sighed sympathy.
“Even with every door and window open and a flat dish full of milk upon the washstand,” said Lady Pomphrey, taking the friend’s arm and emphasizing her utterances71 with the green sunshade, “white paint permeates72 my whole being in a way that is perfectly indescribable. My son inherits my receptiveness—perhaps my weakness-indeed, he came into the world at Cluckham-Pomphrey during an early visit of ours, subsequent to spring-cleaning, where, owing to an unhappy facility possessed73 by Lord Pomphrey of being easily persuaded by self-interested persons, the hall screen, grand staircase, and all the Jacobean paneling had been covered by the local decorator with a creamy-hued, turpentiny and 324glutinous mixture known as ‘Eggster’s Exquisite74 Enamel75.’ It cost a fortune to get off again, and some of it still lingers in the crevices76 of the carving77. My basket.... It is a little cumbrous, but I really couldn’t think of letting you.... Well then, dear friend, if you insist.... Now for the really remarkable ending of my boy’s story.
“He flew to his cousin for consolation78. Now, Wendoleth Caer-Brydglingbury is extremely sympathetic. Only for the color of her hair-a violent Boadicean red, almost purple in some lights—Rustleton and she—but I am devoutly79 thankful things have turned out as they have.
“‘A sea cruise,’ said Wendoleth promptly80, ‘will get the white paint out of your system quicker than anything I know; and your morbid81 feeling of vexation with this girl, impatience82 of her persistency83 in continuing to exist, and so forth84, will vanish with other things. Mr. Mudge,’—the person she has since married,—‘has kindly85 asked Papa and myself to join his party on board the steam-yacht Fifi for a trip to Lisbon, Madeira, and the Canaries; join us. I assure you a complete welcome and at least half a cabin.’ Rustleton recognized the cousinly kindness in Wendoleth’s proposal, accepted, and went with her and Todmoxen—the Earl is still robust, but not what he was in the ’seventies, nor is it to be expected—down to Southampton to join the Fifi. Mudge is Liberal member for the North Clogger Division of Mudderpool. But for a crimson58 necktie—the Party badge—and a habit of hanging on to his own coat-lapels when conversing86, he is almost quite presentable, and, like all those people who begin by not having twopence, he is astonishingly rich. His welcome to Rustleton was cordial in the extreme. But when Rustleton found Lord Twissing and his daughter already on board, discovered that he was to share Twissing’s cabin, and that Céline 325slept in the one next door, he was dismayed. He would have excused himself and left the Fifi only that she was already on her way. Fate, like one of those curious jelly-like creatures which wave their tentacles87 to attract their prey88 and then clutch it and gradually absorb it, had wrapped its feelers around my poor boy. He is now resigned, calm, content, even happy; but when I think how he must have suffered.... My salts. In the basket. So kind of you, and so reviving.”
Lady Pomphrey inhaled89 with drooping90 eyelids91 and sniffed92 at the salts-flagon from time to time as she embarked93 once more upon her narrative way.
“The Fifi anchored for the night, which promised to be squally, in Southampton Water, about a quarter of a mile from Hythe Pier51. Depressed94 and discouraged, my boy retired95 to his cabin, leaving the entire party screaming over ‘Bridge’ at a number of little tables in the saloon. He had just put on his nightalines,—pink with a green stripe, the jacket ornamented96 with green braid in loops, to match—and was attending to his teeth with a palm-stick, when, with a terrific crash, all the electric lights went out and the Fifi was plunged97 in darkness. I shudder98 when I realize the awfulness of all that. Don’t you?”
The friend supplied a shudder expressly manufactured for the purpose.
“A Welsh collier steamer, the Rattletrap, from Penwryg, had run down Mr. Mudge’s yacht, becoming firmly embedded99 in the hull100 of the craft—the details are graven on my memory,” said Lady Pomphrey impressively—“immediately forward of the engine-room. The crew turned out—not into the sea, but out of their hammocks—the ‘Bridge’ players rushed in confusion upon deck. In their evening dresses, without being even able to save a bag from below, Mr. Mudge’s party were dragged over the grimy bows of the collier. The crew scrambled101 after. The captain of the Rattletrap, having 326ascertained that the Fifi was rapidly filling, and that all her passengers, as he thought, were safe on board his vessel102, was about to give the signal from the bridge to reverse engines when, with an appalling103 scream a lithe104 young girl in a crêpe de Chine evening wrap embroidered105 with roses and turtle-doves—quite symbolic106 when you think of it—leaped back upon the deck of the Fifi and disappeared below. Guess who she was, and whither she had gone? You can? You do? What romance in real life, isn’t it? Céline Twissing had missed Rustleton, and, knowing that he occupied the cabin next to her own, had rushed below to save him.
“He had rung for his man and was waiting calmly to be dressed, when she burst in the door with her shoulder—have you ever noticed her shoulders?—and shrieked107 to him to come on deck and be saved. Wrapped in a Scotch108 plaid which he had hastily thrown over his pyjamas109 at the moment of her entrance, he defied her, rebuked110 her immodesty in entering a gentleman’s dressing-room unannounced, ordered her to quit the cabin and go back to her father. When properly attired111 to appear before ladies, my boy, ever chivalrous112 and delicate-minded, said he would board the Rattletrap. ‘Don’t you feel that this yacht is water-logged?’ screamed Céline Twissing. ‘Don’t you know she’ll sink under our feet in another minute? Come on deck at once, you duffing little precisian, unless you want me to carry you!’ He retorted with contempt. She instantly seized him in her muscular arms—have you ever noticed her arms?—threw him, Scotch plaid and all, over her shoulder, carried him up the yacht’s companion-ladder, and amidst the cheers of the united crews of the Fifi and the Rattletrap, handed him over the bulwarks113 to the men of the collier. Then she followed, the captain gave the order to go astern, the collier reversed her engines, the water rushed into the yacht, and she sank instantly. All that can be seen of 327her to-day is her masts. And Céline Twissing and my boy are to be made one at St. George’s, Hanover Square, in the first week of the Winter Season. Céline will be married in white satin and mousseline trimmed with silver embroidery114, and she goes away in a gown of putty-colored velvelise—the new stuff. I believe she secretly adored Rustleton from the very beginning, and he, I feel, is reconciled to the inscrutable appointments of Providence115. How we have been chattering116, haven’t we? Time for luncheon now. Oh, I pray, no carp in beer, or eels with currant jelly. But one never knows. Au revoir, dear! Au revoir!” And Lady Pomphrey put up her green sunshade and sailed away.
THE END
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reset
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| v.重新安排，复位；n.重新放置；重放之物 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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celebrated
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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eels
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| abbr. 电子发射器定位系统（=electronic emitter location system） | |
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allured
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| 诱引，吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abstruse
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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susceptible
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complexions
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| 肤色( complexion的名词复数 )； 面色； 局面； 性质 | |
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obsolete
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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perfectly
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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agitating
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| 搅动( agitate的现在分词 )； 激怒； 使焦虑不安； （尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而）激烈争论 | |
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baroness
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hops
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| 跳上[下]( hop的第三人称单数 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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bonded
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| n.有担保的，保税的，粘合的 | |
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breweries
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| 酿造厂，啤酒厂( brewery的名词复数 ) | |
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colossal
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distressing
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Christian
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knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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deficient
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reverence
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finesse
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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compliant
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| adj.服从的，顺从的 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dissonant
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| adj.不和谐的；不悦耳的 | |
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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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smacking
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| 活泼的，发出响声的，精力充沛的 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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ambling
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| v.（马）缓行( amble的现在分词 )；从容地走，漫步 | |
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promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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muggy
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| adj.闷热的；adv.（天气）闷热而潮湿地；n.（天气）闷热而潮湿 | |
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distressingly
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| adv. 令人苦恼地；悲惨地 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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peremptorily
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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59
crimsoned
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| 变为深红色（crimson的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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loathes
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的第三人称单数 )；极不喜欢 | |
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69
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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70
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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71
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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72
permeates
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| 弥漫( permeate的第三人称单数 )； 遍布； 渗入； 渗透 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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75
enamel
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| n.珐琅，搪瓷，瓷釉；(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
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76
crevices
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| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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77
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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82
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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83
persistency
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| n. 坚持(余辉, 时间常数) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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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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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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87
tentacles
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| n.触手( tentacle的名词复数 )；触角；触须；触毛 | |
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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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inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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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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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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embedded
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| a.扎牢的 | |
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100
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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101
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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103
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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104
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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105
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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106
symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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107
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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109
pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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110
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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113
bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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114
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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115
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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116
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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