Was it the difference in their ages after all? He was not old, but his youthfulness belonged to another period, when youth was more unsophisticated and had a healthier creed4. Perhaps she was na?ve too—with her aims and opinions—but it was in a quite different way. Words change their meanings after twenty years—was that the reason?
The gravel glittered red and purple, and the paint on the station building was blistered5 by the scorching6 sun. As she looked up everything went dark before her eyes for a moment; it was a peculiar7 sensation, but probably the effect of the heat, which she seemed to feel more than usual this summer.
The haze8 hung trembling over fields and meadows, reaching right out to where the forest lay, a dark green line under the deep blue summer sky. The foliage9 of the birches had already changed its colour to a darker green.
Cesca was reading a letter from her husband. Her linen10 dress was strikingly white against the dark gravel of the platform.
Gunnar Heggen’s luggage had been put on the pony11 cart, and he stood stroking the horse’s head and talking to it while he waited for the ladies. Cesca put her letter in her pocket, shaking her head as if trying to drive away a thought.
“Sorry to keep you so long, boy—now let us start.” Jenny and Cesca took the front seat; she was taking the reins12 herself. “I am so pleased, Gunnar, that you could come. Won’t it be nice to be together again for a few days, we three? Lennart sends his love to both of you.”
“Thanks—is he all right?”
“Oh yes—first-rate, thanks. Brilliant idea of father,[212] wasn’t it, to go away with Borghild and leave the house to me and Jenny? Old Gina looks after us, and is ready to stand on her head for us. I call it perfectly13 lovely.”
“It is delightful14 to see you again, you two.”
He laughed and chatted with them, but Jenny imagined she noticed a touch of sadness behind his merry talk. She knew that she looked worn and tired herself, and Cesca in her cheap, ready-made costume looked like a tomboy beginning to get old without having been properly grown up. Cesca seemed to have shrunk very much in the one year they had been separated, but she chatted on as before, telling them what they were going to have for dinner, that they would have coffee in the garden, and that she had bought liqueurs and whisky and soda15 to celebrate the occasion of their visit.
That night, when Jenny came into her bedroom, she sat down on the window-seat to cool her face in the fresh breeze made by the fluttering curtain. She was not sober; it was an extraordinary thing, but it was a fact. She could not understand how it had happened; all she had had was one glass and a half of toddy and a couple of small liqueurs after supper. True, she had not eaten much, but she had no appetite lately. She had had strong coffee, so perhaps it was that and the cigarettes which affected16 her, although she smoked much less now than she used to.
Her heart beat irregularly, and hot waves were rushing over her till she felt moist all over. The landscape she was looking at from the window, the greyish fields, the soft coloured flower-beds in the garden, and the dark trees against the pale summer sky turned and twisted before her eyes, and the room seemed turning round. A taste of whisky and liqueur rose to her throat. How horrid17!
She spilt the water when she poured some in the basin, and she felt unsteady on her feet. Jenny mia, this is scandalous. You will soon be done for, my girl, if you cannot stand that[213] much. In the olden days you could have taken twice as much.
She bathed her face and her hands for a while, keeping her wrists under water; then she pulled off her clothes and squeezed the full sponge over her body. She was wondering if Cesca and Gunnar had noticed it; she had not realized it herself till she got to her room; a good thing the Colonel and Borghild had not been there.
She felt better after her wash, got into her nightdress, and went to sit by the window again. Her thoughts were wandering about confusedly, calling up fragments of conversation between Cesca and Gunnar, but all of a sudden she felt wide awake, realizing with vivid surprise that she had been drunk. Never before had she had such an experience; she used scarcely to feel it at all, even if she took quite a lot of wine.
Anyhow, it had passed off now, and, feeling limp and cold and sleepy, she went to lie down in the big bed. Fancy if she were to wake up tomorrow with a “head”—that would be a new experience.
She had scarcely settled down in the bed and closed her eyes when the disagreeable heat again stole over her, plunging18 her whole body in a bath of perspiration19. The bed seemed to rock under her like a ship in a storm, and she felt sea-sick. Lying perfectly still, she tried to overcome the nausea20, telling herself: I will not, I will not, but it was no good. Her mouth filled with water, and she had scarcely time to get up before she was overcome with sickness.
Heavens! Was she really as drunk as that? It became most embarrassing, but it ought to be over now. She tidied up, drank some water, and went to bed again, hoping to sleep it away, but after a brief moment of rest, with her eyes shut, the rocking began again and with it the heat and the nausea. It was astonishing, for her head was now quite clear—yet she had to get up once more.
Stepping back into bed, a thought suddenly struck her.[214] Nonsense! She lay down again, pressing her neck deep into the pillows. It was impossible. She did not want to think of it, but, unable to dismiss the thought from her mind, she began a review of recent events. She had not felt quite well lately, had been tired and worn out, worried and nervous generally; that was probably why the little she had taken last night had been too much for her. She could quite understand now that people become abstemious21 after a few nights of the kind she had just experienced. The other matter she would not consider; if things had gone wrong she would know it in due time—it was no good worrying unnecessarily. She was going to sleep; she was so tired—but she could not keep her thoughts away from that awful subject—ugh!
At the beginning of their relations the possibility of consequences had quite naturally presented itself to her mind, and once or twice she had been in the throes of anxiety, but she had been able to master it and had forced herself to look reasonably at the matter. What if it were true? The dread22 of having a child is really a senseless superstition23; it happens every day. Why should it be worse for her than for any poor working girl, who was able to provide for herself and her child? The anxiety was a remnant from the times when an unmarried woman in similar circumstances had to go to the father or her relations and confess that she had had a good time, and that they had to pay the expenses—with the sad prospect24 of never afterwards having her provided for by somebody else—a quite sufficient reason for their anger.
Nobody had any right to be angry with her. Her mother would, of course, be sorry, but when a grown-up person tried to live according to his conscience the parents had nothing to say. She had tried to help her mother as much as possible, she had never worried her with her own troubles, her reputation had never been spoilt by any tales of levity25, flirtation26, or revelling27, but where her own opinions about right and wrong differed[215] from that of other people, she meant to follow them, even if it would be painful to her mother to hear disagreeable things said about her.
If her relations with Gert were a sin, it did not mean that she had given too much, but too little, and whatever the consequences would be, she had to bear them without complaint.
She could provide for a child just as well as many a girl who had not a tenth part of her knowledge. There was still some money left of her inheritance—enough for her to go abroad. If the profession she had chosen was a poor one, she knew that several of her fellow-artists were able to keep wife and children with it, and she had been used to helping28 others from the time she was almost a child. She would, of course, prefer not to have to do it; so far everything had been all right—she would not think of it.
Gert would be in despair.
If it was true, how dreadful that it should happen now. If it had happened when she loved him, or thought she did, and she could have gone away in good faith, but now, when everything that had been between them had crumbled29 to pieces, torn asunder30 by her own thinking and pondering....
During these weeks at Tegneby she had made up her mind not to go on any longer. She was longing31 to go away to new conditions, new work. Yes, the longing for work had come back; she had had enough of this sickly desire of clinging to somebody, to be cuddled and petted and called little girl.
At the thought of breaking with him her heart winced32 with pain. She shrank from causing him sorrow, but she had kept it up as long as possible. Gert had been happy while it lasted, and he was free from the degrading slavery with his wife.
She was perfectly resigned to the thought that her life henceforth would be work and solitude33 only. She knew she could not obliterate34 the past months from her life; she would always remember them and the bitter lessons they had taught her.[216] The love that others found enough was not enough for her—it was better for her to dispense35 with it altogether than to be contented36.
Yes, she would remember, but as years went by the memory of the short happiness mixed with so much pain and bitter repentance37 would perhaps be less poignant38, and she would be able partly to wipe out the memory of the man to whom she had done a deadly wrong—and whose child perhaps she bore.
No; it was impossible. Why lie here brooding over it?
But if it were true....
When Jenny at last sank into a heavy and dreamless sleep it was almost daylight, but when she awoke again with a shock, it was not much lighter39. The sky was a little more yellow above the garden trees, and the birds were chirping40 sleepily. She was instantly wide awake, and the same thoughts returned; she would hardly get any more sleep that night, and she resigned herself to thinking them over and over again.
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1
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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2
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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3
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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4
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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5
blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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6
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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7
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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8
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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10
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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11
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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12
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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13
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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14
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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15
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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16
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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17
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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18
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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19
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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20
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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21
abstemious
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| adj.有节制的，节俭的 | |
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22
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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23
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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24
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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25
levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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26
flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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27
revelling
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| v.作乐( revel的现在分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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28
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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29
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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30
asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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31
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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32
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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34
obliterate
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| v.擦去，涂抹，去掉...痕迹，消失，除去 | |
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35
dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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36
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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37
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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38
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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39
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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40
chirping
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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