A number of people looked at him curiously1, for it was known to some that he and the bride had formerly2 been engaged; but they found nothing in Stacey’s face or bearing to reward them. There was general interest in the wedding, since Ames Price and Marian Latimer were both prominent; there were no excited whispered comments. No gossip linked Stacey’s name with Marian’s. And, indeed, it is an odd fact that it was difficult for a man and still more difficult for a woman to get talked about adversely3 in Vernon. This was particularly true if they were socially prominent. In that case they must do something almost publicly scandalous, must literally4 be “asking for it.” Which unfortunately does not signify that morals were any higher in Vernon than elsewhere.
Stacey’s sensations were as mixed as ever. He was able to perceive the smooth elegance5 of the show, made up of the flowers, the soft light creeping through the stained glass windows of the handsome church, the rustling6 of costly7 dresses, the low murmur8 of fashionable voices, the smiles, the easy greetings, the ushers9, and the discreet10 music of the organ. And he was even able to note that, though Marian was fetching enough to arouse at her appearance on her father’s arm a sudden hum of admiration11 before silence fell softly, she was not really at her best in that trailing lace-and-satin wedding gown. No, she was more beautiful in a plain tailor-made suit with a short skirt. She would have looked best of all with her fair hair drawn12 back simply and bound with a ribbon, bare armed, and with a kirtle falling only to her knees. But beneath the surface calm of Stacey’s mind fire smoldered13. He was angrily stirred, angrily jealous; for he had not freed himself completely from desire of Marian. Had he, after all, been a fool to renounce14 her? he wondered. He might have stood there by her side in Ames’s place. But at this he caught himself up scornfully. What? he thought brutally15. Deliberately16 chain himself and her to a life of hopeless incompatibility17 because he desired to possess this girl’s beautiful body? Was the craving18 of his whole soul for freedom less passionate19 than the mere20 craving of his senses for satisfaction?
Poor Stacey! Contradictory21, stormy, inharmonious! Made up of dissonances. Repelled22 by Marian, yet desiring her; avid23 of freedom, but avid, too, of hate—an enslaving bond if ever there was one; more passionately24 and truly in love with beauty than ever before, yet destructive of it in himself; full of power with nowhere to direct it; hard and bitter, yet honestly anguished25 by the pain in the world.
The ceremony over, he made his way out of the church as quickly as possible, but paused for a moment on the sidewalk to glance at the interminable line of handsome waiting motor cars. The irony26 in their expensive patronage27 of one of Christ’s churches made him suddenly smile. Then he set off on foot for the Latimer house, where the reception would be held.
It was very well done, he thought,—adequate, handsome,—er—elegant, without being vulgarly lavish28; roses enough, but not “bowers” of roses—though “bowers” was what the paper next morning would say there had been; champagne29 punch, but not tubs and pools of it; decent air of gaiety, but no riot. Well, you could count on Mr. Latimer to carry the thing off in the right way. It was what he was for. Fifty-odd years of careful training, with never a moment wasted, had fitted him for the task.
Stacey wondered what Mrs. Latimer thought about it all. Oh, she would probably be as detached as always, humorously but not unkindly amused by it. However, he had no chance to find out. Mrs. Latimer was much too busy receiving.
His one real curiosity was to know how Marian would look at him when, in the line, he shook her hand and Ames’s. He decided30 that she would be candid31, simple and virginal, as became a bride, with no hint of anything in her greeting. But he was wrong. He was unfair to Marian, fancying her far more deliberate than she really was. The swift look she gave him was strange and enigmatic, and stirred him. There was a touch of defiance32 in it, as though she had said: “Well, you would have it this way! Do you like what you’ve done?” And he could not blame her if the words she spoke33 were merely the proper words. There were people all about.
Later he came upon his sister, Julie.
“Oh, Stacey,” she said, “why couldn’t you be nice and go with me to the wedding? Jimmy’s out of town, so I went all alone. I saw you across the church from me and thought I’d pick you up afterward34, but when I came out I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
He smiled at the protective solicitude35 in her tone. “Oh, well,” he returned, “I’ll drive back with you to your house for a little chat when you’re ready to go.”
“I’m ready now,” she said quickly, and they went out to her electric.
No one else had ventured to make any comment to Stacey when Marian’s engagement to Ames Price had been announced; even Mr. Carroll had only looked at his son in an odd puzzled way. But Julie had ventured. She had asserted loyally that Stacey was much too good for Marian, and that Marian didn’t care whom she married so long as he had money. He had reflected at the time that, though Julie simplified things down to bare essentials, it was essentials that she selected. She was not unlike their father in this, he thought. She returned to the subject now, as they glided36 along the city streets.
“I don’t care!” she broke out hotly. “I think she’s horrid37! Of course I know it must have been you who broke off the engagement—now wasn’t it, Stacey? Why won’t you admit it? Why, anybody would be proud to marry you!—but then for her to go and marry a stupid person like Ames Price, old enough to be her father, too, less than three months later,—why, I think it’s cheap! That’s what Marian is—cheap!”
Stacey laughed, amused at her desire to comfort him. He enjoyed being with his sister; nor was there anything patronizing in his feeling for her. He was not doing so admirably with a complex mind that he could afford to look comfortably down upon Julie for having a simple mind. And she was not stupid. He thought she did rather well with life.
“Oh,” he observed, “Ames isn’t as old as all that! He’s only forty or thereabouts. I’m almost thirty-five.”
“Well, he looks hundreds of years older—”
“Here! Take care!” Stacey interrupted, stretching out his hand toward the lever, as the car barely grazed by a heavily laden38 motor-van. “Julie, you’re a public menace!”
“—than you, and he can’t do a thing except play golf.”
Stacey laughed again, this time at Julie’s imperturbable39 calm. “Everything’s all right, old girl,” he said, “and you needn’t try to apply balm to my bruised40 heart, though it’s nice of you to want to.”
And they got out, having reached the Prouts’ handsome brick residence, the plans for which Stacey had drawn.
But the maid who opened the door for them followed them into the living-room. “Mis’ Prout,” she announced tragically41, “Annie’s going to leave!”
“Is she?” said Julie, drawing off her gloves. “Well, that’s a nuisance. Excuse me a minute, Stacey dear, while I telephone. Go mix yourself a high-ball. You’ll find everything on the sideboard in the dining-room.” And she sat down at a small mahogany desk and opened a tiny cupboard that concealed42 a telephone.
Stacey obeyed and presently returned with his glass to the living-room, where he listened to his sister call up two employment agencies to make application for a cook, and telephone an advertisement to two newspapers.
“You really are a wonder, Jule!” he said, when she had closed the desk. “Calm and efficient as they make ’em.”
“Oh,” she returned, opening her eyes wide in surprise, “that’s nothing! It happens so often that I should be a silly if I were upset by it now. Perhaps you noticed that I didn’t even have to look the telephone numbers up in the book. Now we can talk.”
But just at this moment the maid returned to announce the visit of a Miss Loeffler, who followed close upon the maid’s heels.
“Hello, Irene,” said Julie pleasantly. “Glad you dropped in. You don’t know my brother, Stacey, do you?”
Miss Loeffler gave Stacey a nod and a brief firm shake of the hand, then threw herself down on the davenport, crossed her legs, and swung the right one vigorously. She looked about twenty-four years old, had dark bobbed hair, a small pretty face with restless dark eyes and a petulant43 mouth, and wore a brown street suit with a very short skirt.
“Of course I don’t approve of you, Captain Carroll,” she said crisply, “because you are Captain Carroll, a tool of militarism in the late capitalistic war. No, I’m glad to meet you, but I don’t approve of you.”
“Oh, well,” said Stacey, “even pity from you’s more dear than that from another.”
“Naturally, if you quoted any one at me, it would have to be some one hopelessly old-fashioned, like Shelley. Can I have a high-ball, Julie?” she asked, jumping up. All her movements were abrupt45, like her voice.
“Of course,” said Julie. “Oh, no, Stacey, don’t try to get it for her. Irene will be cross if you do.”
Nevertheless, he followed Miss Loeffler into the dining-room and at least stood by while she mixed her high-ball.
Suddenly, in the midst of the operation, she turned to him and gazed into his eyes. “What are you really like, Mr. Carroll?” she demanded intensely.
“Awfully orderly,” he replied, reaching out to restrain her hand that held the silver water-bottle. “Can’t bear to see things spilled.”
“Huh!” she said disdainfully.
They went back to the living-room and sat down again.
“See you’ve both been to the wedding,” remarked Miss Loeffler. “You look it. Have a lingering odor of ceremony about you. All very smooth and elegant, I suppose?” And she lighted a cigarette.
Julie was crocheting46. “No, Irene,” she said, “you needn’t go around pretending to despise weddings and then come here and try to worm a description of this one out of me. If you wanted to know what it was like you ought to have gone to it and seen for yourself.”
Stacey laughed, as much at his sister’s keenness as at her guest’s eccentricity47. But Miss Loeffler was vexed48.
“I don’t pretend!” she asserted hotly. “I do dislike weddings. And if I ever want to go and live with a man I shall, without making a silly fuss about it, and then when either he or I get bored we’ll simply break off.”
Julie sighed. “I’m afraid you’ll find it a very nervous wearing life,” she remarked calmly. “I shouldn’t care for it myself, but then I’m—”
“Oh, perfectly49 hopeless, Julie! You belong back in the eighteen-eighties. What do you think about it, Mr. Carroll?”
“About marriage?” Stacey asked. “Nothing at all. Doesn’t interest me. But I should say you people were at least as Victorian as Julie. You’re quite as excited about the necessity of not having a ceremony as old-fashioned people are about having one.”
Miss Loeffler insisted angrily that this was not true, but presently grew calmer.
“Anyway, you’re right about one thing,” she said, finishing her high-ball, then setting the glass down on the floor and dropping her cigarette end into it. “The whole question’s overstressed. We’ve got other bigger things to think about. Well, I must go. Just dropped in for a minute. See you again soon, Julie. You going, Mr. Carroll? Give you a lift if you are.”
“Thanks,” said Stacey, getting up. He found the girl physically50 attractive, and he was glad of anything that would keep his thoughts from Marian. He followed her to her handsome run-about, and they set off swiftly.
“Of course,” she said, “I don’t expect to have a car much longer.”
“No?”
“No. When we have Soviets51 in America I suppose such cars as remain will all be in the service of the public. Of course they may put me to driving one, but more likely I’ll have to cobble shoes or something.”
“And a very good thing, too,” said Stacey. “Pleasant occupation, nice leathery smell, and lots of time to reflect on universal subjects.”
She frowned. “You don’t believe in me at all, do you?” she demanded, looking at him petulantly52. “You think we’re all—”
But in her excitement she had pressed her foot on the accelerator instead of the brake, so that they dashed past a policeman who had raised his hand to stop them, swerved53 madly around the front of a trolley-car that was approaching on the cross street, sent pedestrians54 flying to left and right, and returned to a normal speed only a hundred yards farther along the avenue, fortunately not crowded, that they were following.
Stacey sighed. “There’s not a pin to choose between you and Julie,” he remarked patiently. “You both try to kill me the same afternoon.”
Miss Loeffler laughed girlishly. “That was stupid of me,” she admitted. “And you were quite the calmest thing I’ve ever seen. But truly,” she went on earnestly, keeping the car, however, at a discreet twelve miles an hour, “it’s serious. You’d be surprised to know how much is stirring deep, deep down right here in Vernon, that you’d think was a positive stronghold of capitalism55. Come with me now, will you?” she said eagerly, “and let me show you?”
“Show me what?”
“People who are really thinking, people who get together and see things straight—the social revolution, Bolshevism.”
“Dear me!” said Stacey. “I knew Vernon was no longer provincial56, but I had no idea it was so metropolitan57 as all that.”
“Oh, you can laugh!” she returned darkly, “but you’ll see. Of course you understand we trust your discretion58.”
“Of course.”
She turned off from the avenue and stopped the car before an office building. “We meet here,” she announced, “in an ordinary office-room, because it’s so conspicuous59 that it’s perfectly safe.” And they went up in the elevator.
The large room which they presently entered had been given the semblance60 of a club. There were numerous easy chairs around the floor, chintz curtains at the windows, and across one end of the room a huge oak table with a vase of flowers and many books and periodicals. Fifteen or twenty people were in the room, some standing61, some sprawling62 in the chairs, two or three perched on the edge of the table. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke.
“Comrade Loeffler!” several voices shouted, as Irene and Stacey entered.
“And with a new comrade in tow!” cried some one.
“Well, he isn’t exactly a comrade,” said Irene. “I just brought him along because he’s so aggravating63 and skeptical64. But he’s perfectly safe. Stacey Carroll, comrades.” And with a proprietary65 air she drew him over to one end of the room. He rather liked Miss Loeffler. There was something so girlish beneath her pose.
Stacey looked about him idly. All but five of the persons in the room were women. He knew a few of them by sight, and the faces of others were vaguely66 familiar to him; but he had been away from Vernon for so long and so utterly67 cut off from it mentally that it was hard for him to remember old acquaintances. Doubtless he had met nearly all these people formerly—he didn’t know. Anyway, they were of a younger generation than he—in the twenties, most of them. He observed that the majority of the women wore their hair bobbed.
“Why so much bobbing of hair, Miss Loeffler? Is it a symbol of freedom?”
“I suppose you might call it that,” she replied, sitting on the arm of his leather chair. “If you were unlucky enough to be a woman you’d appreciate the advantages of wearing your hair short.”
“It’s rather becoming to you,” he observed. “Can’t say I think it is to all of them.”
“It’s stupid and old-fashioned to pay compliments,” she returned coldly. “They don’t interest me at all.”
“Sorry,” said Stacey, “but it’s difficult not to, with all this air of freedom about, and you sitting so close to me.”
She jumped up angrily, but then after a moment defiantly68 resumed her seat on the arm of his chair.
One of the young men, Comrade Leslie Vane, approached them. He wore a flowing black tie beneath a very low soft collar. Stacey knew him. He was a poet—published things occasionally in the “Pagan” and the “Touchstone”—and the son of John Vane, the big flour man. People in Vernon were very nice about it, but naturally at heart they felt sorry for Mr. Vane, Senior, who was extremely well liked, and rejoiced that at any rate his other son, John, Junior, was normal. Stacey was rather inclined to share Vernon’s point of view in this.
“Hello, Stacey,” said Vane languidly. “Glad to see a militarist with an open mind, anyhow. First example I’ve met with.”
Stacey reflected, as he acknowledged the greeting, that when the Middle-West turned esthetic69 it became mournfully old-fashioned. Positively70 Leslie Vane was going back all of twenty-five years in search of a style.
“Sure!” he said. “I’m open to conviction, but what do you want to convince me of?”
“Oh,” drawled Vane, “the papers have all been read; you’re late. There’s only just general talk going on now, but it may do you some good if you’ll listen.”
A little group had gathered around them, and the smoky air became full of words, among which “Soviets,” “proletariat,” and “Bolshevism” predominated.
Stacey, too bored to listen, fell to wondering for a moment about real Bolshevism. He shook his head. No use, that either. He didn’t care if change did come. In a way he would be furiously delighted if order was upset,—things were so silly. But he didn’t believe in any millennium71 or even in improvement through change. What had the war accomplished72?
“—and so that, most of all,” some woman was saying, “is the true lesson of Holy Russia. What do you think of it, Mr. Carroll? I won’t call you Captain.”
He started. “Of Bolshevism? The—er—coming social revolution. Oh, you’ll all be raped73, then cut in little pieces, and Comrade Leslie will have his throat cut. Not because Bolshevism is so especially worse than anything else, but because that’s what always happens when any kind of violence gets loose. And, do you know? I don’t care a damn whether it comes or not!”
He meant what he said, as much as he meant anything at all in respect to these futile74 idiots, but, since there was no passion in his words and his face remained expressionless, his remarks were delightedly deemed a skilful75 evasion76 of the question (“My dear, how could he say what he really thought—he a captain and a Carroll?”) and an amusing pleasantry. His bold use of the word “rape,” too, was much appreciated.
But such comments were made after his departure. For neither Miss Loeffler’s physical attractiveness nor conversation with the fashionable followers77 of Lenin could any longer distract his mind from Marian. She and Ames would be sitting close together now in the drawing-room of a Pullman car. . . .
He escaped from the club and went home.
However, he felt an amused curiosity to know what his sister’s attitude had been toward her impetuous visitor, so he called Julie up on the telephone.
“What do you think about that wild creature that broke in on us to-day?” he asked.
“Irene?” said Julie’s calm voice. “Oh, she’s just a goose, but she’s really quite nice and sweet and young at heart.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought,” he assented78. “Occurred to me, though, that I’d better call you up and let you know that she hadn’t eloped with me or done me any real harm—though she nearly ran us into a street-car. Quite a good time.”
“Now, Stacey, listen!” said Julie anxiously. “You won’t go and fall in love with Irene, will you?”
He laughed. “I won’t do anything without asking you about it first, Jule. I lean on you, you know.”
And the odd thing about it was that in a way he did.
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1
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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adversely
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| ad.有害地 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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ushers
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| n.引座员( usher的名词复数 )；招待员；门房；助理教员v.引，领，陪同( usher的第三人称单数 ) | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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smoldered
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的过去式 ) | |
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renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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incompatibility
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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mere
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contradictory
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repelled
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avid
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passionately
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anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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lavish
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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spoke
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| 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 | |
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afterward
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solicitude
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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laden
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imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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crocheting
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| v.用钩针编织( crochet的现在分词 )；钩编 | |
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eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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soviets
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| 苏维埃（Soviet的复数形式） | |
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petulantly
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pedestrians
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| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
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capitalism
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| n.资本主义 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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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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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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skeptical
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| adj.怀疑的，多疑的 | |
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proprietary
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| n.所有权，所有的；独占的；业主 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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esthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的；悦目的，雅致的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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millennium
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| n.一千年，千禧年；太平盛世 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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raped
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| v.以暴力夺取，强夺( rape的过去式和过去分词 )；强奸 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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evasion
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| n.逃避，偷漏(税) | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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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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