“What are we doing?” he asked the clerk.
“Signing the certificates, sir. They want this lot before 2 o’clock.”
“Yes, but what does it mean?”
“What does it mean?” the clerk repeated. “I don’t know, sir. What do you mean?”
“I don’t know either,” said John. He threw the pen away, got up, reached for his hat.
“You’re not going now, sir? They are waiting for these certificates.”
“Let them wait.”
“What shall I say when they call for them?”
“Anything you like. Ask them what it means.”
Up and down the money canyon7 people moved with absent gestures, some in haste, some running, some loitering, all with one look in their eyes. Bulls were bellowing8 on the Stock Exchange. Steel shares were rising. Sabath was in his highest form. To the strumming[350] of his lyre men of all shapes and conditions turned from their ways and came hither and wildly importuned9 brokers10 to exchange their money for bits of paper believed to represent steel mills they had never seen, would never see, had never heard of before. What did it mean?
As John gazed at the scene it became unreal and detached. He was alone, as one is in some dreams, there and not there, somehow concerned in the action but invisible to the actors and to oneself. It was like a dream of anxiety, full of confusion and grotesque11 matter.
He was lonely and very wretched and accused Agnes. He would accuse her to her face. That was what he was on his way to do, perhaps because there was no other excuse for seeing her in the middle of the day. He would tell her how selfish and unreasonable12 she was. They were two solitary13 beings in one world together. Their hours were running away. He loved her. He had always loved her. And at least she loved nobody else. Then why should they not join their lives?
Three times he had asked her that question. Each time she had said: “Let’s go on being friends. That’s very nice, isn’t it?”
A year had passed since the last time. He had watched for some sign of change. But she was always the same, except that after having been gently though firmly unwilling14 to say either yes or no she seemed to come nearer in friendship and baffled him all the more. If she had any feeling for him whatever beyond friendship[351] he had been unable to detect or surprise it, and fate would bear witness that the possibility was one he had stalked with all patience and subtlety15. In fact, he really believed that if he pressed her to the point she would say no,—that she had not said it already only because she hated to hurt him. This notion tormented16 him exceedingly. It would be a relief to know.
She had been for some weeks in town, at the Savoy, where he detained her on the pretext17 that her presence was necessary in her own interest. It was only a little past twelve when he arrived there and called her on the telephone, from the desk, asking her down to lunch. She was surprised and pleased and answered him in a voice that had a ring of youth.
The sound of it echoing in his ears evoked18 memories and caused the years to fall away. He waited, not there in the hotel lobby, but in a boxwood hedge, surreptitiously, and saw her as a girl again, plucking flowers, pretending not to know he was there, yet coming nearer, always nearer, with a thoughtful air; and for a moment he forgot that anything had happened since.
“Business or pleasure at this time of day?” she asked, coming up behind him.
Instantly, at the provocation19 of her voice, an impish, youth-time impulse took possession of him. It provided its own idea complete and he did not stop to examine it. His mood seized it.
“Personal,” he said.
“But you look so serious.”
“It is serious—for me.”
[352]
They sat at a table in the far corner of the dining room.
“Out with it. Lucky it isn’t murder. You’d be suspected at first glance.”
“What shall we eat? Pompano. That ought to be good.... Don’t look at me like that. I’m so happy I can’t stand it. That’s all that’s the matter with me.... Filet20 of sole. How about that?”
“Anything to cure such happiness. Sole, salad and iced tea for me, please. Now then.”
“A sweet? Or shall we decide about that later?”
“Later. I may be too much surprised by that time to want a sweet.”
She was regarding him intently, with a very curious expression. He avoided her eyes.
“Yes, it may surprise you,” he said. “Here, waiter!... Of course you know—(Sole, hearts of lettuce21 and tomato salad, French dressing22, iced tea for one, large coffee, sweets later)—what an emotional animal I am.—(Two salads, yes.)—Or romantic. Whatever you like to call it. (Sole for two.) After all, I don’t know why—(No, hot coffee for one.)—Why I should be so self-conscious about it. The fact is simple enough. I’m going to be married.”
“Oh! How exciting. When?”
“When? When, did you say? Why, right away. This evening perhaps.”
“Who is the lady?”
“I’d rather not tell you yet.”
“Yet? But it’s to be this evening, you say.”
“You would know her name at once and you might[353] be prejudiced in spite of yourself. I can’t very well explain it. But I want you to meet her first.”
“This afternoon?”
“Or this evening. I’m coming to that. I very much need your help. It’s an extraordinary thing to ask. I’m anxious to keep it very quiet, both on her account and my own. Not the fact afterward23. That must come out. But its taking place, when and where. Then of course we can go away, for a year, two years; live permanently24 abroad perhaps.”
“Yes?”
“I say I can’t explain it very clearly. You’ll just have to take a good deal of it for granted. The newspapers are so curious and impertinent. I’d like this to happen without anyone knowing it until the notice is published and we are gone. She has no home. I mean, she lives at a hotel. I have no home either. At a church or any public place like that we’d be noticed at once.”
“Will you ask the waiter to bring some more butter, please. Yes, go on. What can I do to help?”
“Take mine. I hoped you’d guess by this time. There’s no one else I can ask.”
“Thanks. No, I can’t guess.”
“Well, if you would let the ceremony take place in your apartment here and sort of manage the fussy25 part I’d never know how much to thank you.”
“Yes, indeed. I’d love to do it. Why did you make such a bother of asking? I’ll have some decorations sent in. What will she wear? What colors does she like?”
[354]
“I’ll have to find out.”
“And the time?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“As soon as you can. And that’s what you were so glum26 about? Now cheer up. Men are such lumps when they are happy.”
“You are very sweet about it.”
“Don’t mind me. Only go as fast as you can and get the details. You don’t know how important they are. I’ll expect to hear from you within an hour. You will call me up?”
“Yes.”
The next he knew he was in the Central Park Zoo looking at the monkeys and wondering why they were so mystified. What had they to be puzzled about? Then there was a little brown bear that precisely27 expressed the absurdity28 he felt in himself. He did not mind feeling absurd. No, that was even comforting. A pain in the ego29 counteracting30 one in the heart. Clumsy as the device was it had served his purpose. He had found out. But it was no relief whatever. In the way he hoped she might she cared less than not at all—less than a foster sister or an old maid aunt. He could not be mistaken. He had watched her closely. She had betrayed not the slightest sign of self-concern. He had that same diminished, ignominious31 feeling with which he retired32 from the boxwood hedge on the evening of their first youth-time encounter.
When he called her on the telephone two hours[355] later, as he had promised to do, this conversation occurred:
“This is John.”
“Yes. Now tell me all about it. You’ve been a long time.”
“Hello.”
“Yes. What time?”
“Hello.”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Agnes, it’s too much of an imposition altogether. I can’t imagine how I could have asked you to do it. Thanks all the same, but we’ll call it off.”
“Nonsense. You’re not telling me the truth. Something has happened.”
“Maybe so. Anyhow, I withdraw the request.”
“Where are you?”
“Near by. Not very far.”
“Meet me in the tea room downstairs. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Not waiting for him to answer she closed the wire. She was there waiting when he arrived.
“I’m sorry if anything has happened,” she said, most sympathetically. “Can you tell me about it?”
“Oh, that can’t be,” she said. “Suppose I talk to her. I shan’t be modest about you. I’ll not promise to be even truthful35.”
“No use,” he said. “I’ve said everything there is to say for myself. She knows me well enough—too well, perhaps. That may be it.”
[356]
“Tell me about her. What is she like?”
“Cold. You wouldn’t think so, but she is. The fact that a man loves her means nothing—not a thing.”
“Is she so used to it?”
“I don’t know. No. That isn’t it....”
“What?”
“I was going to say selfish. I ought not to say that. I’m selfish to want her. She wants to keep her life to herself. It’s her own life.”
“Worse than that. She says—”
“Yes. What does she say?”
“She says it’s nicer as it is. We shall go on being friends. Friendship is all right. It blooms in the next world.”
“Let me talk to her, please.”
“No. It’s hopeless.”
“I’d not urge you if I weren’t so sure I could change her mind. The fact is, I think I know her.”
John started and became rigid37 with astonishment38. He regarded her fixedly39 with a groping, incredulous expression. She stirred her tea very thoughtfully and kept her eyes down.
“If she’s the person I think she is,” Agnes continued, still looking down, “what you say about her is probably true. And yet—”
“Agnes! Be careful what you say.”
“I’ll be as careful as I know how to be. Trust me.”
“How long have you known her?”
[357]
“In one way, of course, you deserve to be wretched. It isn’t all on one side. Do you think it’s nice—?”
“How long have you known her, I ask?”
“A long time. Longer than you have,” she said.
Note from the society column of the New York Times, November 6, 1901:
Mr. and Mrs. Breakspeare are passing their honeymoon40 in Mediterranean41 waters on Mr. Breakspeare’s yacht, the “Damascene.”
THE END
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1
automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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2
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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3
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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4
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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5
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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6
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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7
canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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8
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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9
importuned
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| v.纠缠，向（某人）不断要求( importune的过去式和过去分词 )；（妓女）拉（客） | |
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10
brokers
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| n.（股票、外币等）经纪人( broker的名词复数 )；中间人；代理商；（订合同的）中人v.做掮客（或中人等）( broker的第三人称单数 )；作为权力经纪人进行谈判；以中间人等身份安排… | |
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11
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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12
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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13
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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14
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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15
subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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16
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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17
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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18
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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19
provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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20
filet
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| n.肉片；鱼片 | |
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21
lettuce
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| n.莴苣；生菜 | |
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22
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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23
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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24
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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25
fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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26
glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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27
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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28
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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29
ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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30
counteracting
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| 对抗，抵消( counteract的现在分词 ) | |
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31
ignominious
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| adj.可鄙的，不光彩的，耻辱的 | |
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32
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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33
asinine
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| adj.愚蠢的 | |
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34
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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35
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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36
postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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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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38
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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39
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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40
honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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41
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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