When Shelton arrived the stream had only just begun, but every day brought fresh, or rather jaded9, people to occupy the old, dark, sweet-smelling bedrooms. Individually, he liked his fellow-guests, but he found himself observing them. He knew that, if a man judged people singly, almost all were better than himself; only when judged in bulk were they worthy10 of the sweeping11 criticisms he felt inclined to pass on them. He knew this just as he knew that the conventions, having been invented to prevent man following his natural desires, were merely the disapproving12 sums of innumerable individual approvals.
It was in the bulk; then, that he found himself observing. But with his amiability13 and dread14 of notoriety he remained to all appearance a well-bred, docile15 creature, and he kept his judgments17 to himself.
In the matter of intellect he made a rough division of the guests—those who accepted things without a murmur, those who accepted them with carping jocularity; in the matter of morals he found they all accepted things without the semblance18 of a kick. To show sign of private moral judgment16 was to have lost your soul, and, worse, to be a bit of an outsider. He gathered this by intuition rather than from conversation; for conversation naturally tabooed such questions, and was carried on in the loud and cheerful tones peculiar19 to people of good breeding. Shelton had never been able to acquire this tone, and he could not help feeling that the inability made him more or less an object of suspicion. The atmosphere struck him as it never had before, causing him to feel a doubt of his gentility. Could a man suffer from passion, heart-searchings, or misgivings20, and remain a gentleman? It seemed improbable. One of his fellow-guests, a man called Edgbaston, small-eyed and semi-bald, with a dark moustache and a distinguished21 air of meanness, disconcerted him one day by remarking of an unknown person, “A half-bred lookin' chap; did n't seem to know his mind.” Shelton was harassed22 by a horrid23 doubt.
Everything seemed divided into classes, carefully docketed and valued. For instance, a Briton was of more value than a man, and wives than women. Those things or phases of life with which people had no personal acquaintance were regarded with a faint amusement and a certain disapproval24. The principles of the upper class, in fact, were strictly25 followed.
He was in that hypersenstive and nervous state favourable26 for recording27 currents foreign to itself. Things he had never before noticed now had profound effect on him, such as the tone in which men spoke28 of women—not precisely29 with hostility30, nor exactly with contempt best, perhaps, described as cultured jeering31; never, of course, when men spoke of their own wives, mothers, sisters, or immediate32 friends, but merely when they spoke of any other women. He reflected upon this, and came to the conclusion that, among the upper classes, each man's own property was holy, while other women were created to supply him with gossip, jests, and spice. Another thing that struck him was the way in which the war then going on was made into an affair of class. In their view it was a baddish business, because poor hack33 Blank and Peter Blank-Blank had lost their lives, and poor Teddy Blank had now one arm instead of two. Humanity in general was omitted, but not the upper classes, nor, incidentally, the country which belonged to them. For there they were, all seated in a row, with eyes fixed34 on the horizon of their lawns.
Late one evening, billiards35 and music being over and the ladies gone, Shelton returned from changing to his smoking-suit, and dropped into one of the great arm-chairs that even in summer made a semicircle round the fendered hearth36. Fresh from his good-night parting with Antonia, he sat perhaps ten minutes before he began to take in all the figures in their parti-coloured smoking jackets, cross-legged, with glasses in their hands, and cigars between their teeth.
The man in the next chair roused him by putting down his tumbler with a tap, and seating himself upon the cushioned fender. Through the mist of smoke, with shoulders hunched37, elbows and knees crooked38 out, cigar protruding39, beak-ways, below his nose, and the crimson40 collar of his smoking jacket buttoned close as plumage on his breast, he looked a little like a gorgeous bird.
A voice from the chair on Shelton's right replied,
“They do you better at Verado's.”
“The Veau d'.r 's the best place; they give you Turkish baths for nothing!” drawled a fat man with a tiny mouth.
The suavity42 of this pronouncement enfolded all as with a blessing43. And at once, as if by magic, in the old, oak-panelled room, the world fell naturally into its three departments: that where they do you well; that where they do you better; and that where they give you Turkish baths for nothing.
“If you want Turkish baths,” said a tall youth with clean red face, who had come into the room, and stood, his mouth a little open, and long feet jutting44 with sweet helplessness in front of him, “you should go, you know, to Buda Pesth; most awfully rippin' there.”
Shelton saw an indescribable appreciation45 rise on every face, as though they had been offered truffles or something equally delicious.
“Oh no, Poodles,” said the man perched on the fender. “A Johnny I know tells me they 're nothing to Sofia.” His face was transfigured by the subtle gloating of a man enjoying vice46 by proxy47.
“Ah!” drawled the small-mouthed man, “there 's nothing fit to hold a candle to Baghda-ad.”
Once again his utterance48 enfolded all as with a blessing, and once again the world fell into its three departments: that where they do you well; that where they do you better; and—Baghdad.
Shelton thought to himself: “Why don't I know a place that's better than Baghdad?”
He felt so insignificant49. It seemed that he knew none of these delightful6 spots; that he was of no use to any of his fellow-men; though privately50 he was convinced that all these speakers were as ignorant as himself, and merely found it warming to recall such things as they had heard, with that peculiar gloating look. Alas51! his anecdotes52 would never earn for him that prize of persons in society, the label of a “good chap” and “sportsman.”
“Have you ever been in Baghdad?” he feebly asked.
The fat man did not answer; he had begun an anecdote53, and in his broad expanse of face his tiny mouth writhed54 like a caterpillar55. The anecdote was humorous.
With the exception of Antonia, Shelton saw but little of the ladies, for, following the well-known custom of the country house, men and women avoided each other as much as might be. They met at meals, and occasionally joined in tennis and in croquet; otherwise it seemed—almost Orientally—agreed that they were better kept apart.
Chancing one day to enter the withdrawing room, while searching for Antonia, he found that he had lighted on a feminine discussion; he would have beaten a retreat, of course, but it seemed too obvious that he was merely looking for his fiancee, so, sitting down, he listened.
The Honourable56 Charlotte Penguin57, still knitting a silk tie—the sixth since that she had been knitting at Hyeres—sat on the low window-seat close to a hydrangea, the petals58 of whose round flowers almost kissed her sanguine59 cheek. Her eyes were fixed with languid aspiration60 on the lady who was speaking. This was a square woman of medium height, with grey hair brushed from her low forehead, the expression of whose face was brisk and rather cross. She was standing61 with a book, as if delivering a sermon. Had she been a man she might have been described as a bright young man of business; for, though grey, she never could be old, nor ever lose the power of forming quick decisions. Her features and her eyes were prompt and slightly hard, tinged62 with faith fanatical in the justice of her judgments, and she had that fussy63 simpleness of dress which indicates the right to meddle64. Not red, not white, neither yellow nor quite blue, her complexion65 was suffused66 with a certain mixture of these colours, adapted to the climate; and her smile had a strange sour sweetness, like nothing but the flavour of an apple on the turn.
“I don't care what they tell you,” she was saying—not offensively, though her voice seemed to imply that she had no time to waste in pleasing—“in all my dealings with them I've found it best to treat them quite like children.”
A lady, behind the Times, smiled; her mouth—indeed, her whole hard, handsome face—was reminiscent of dappled rocking-horses found in the Soho Bazaar67. She crossed her feet, and some rich and silk stuff rustled68. Her whole personality seemed to creak as, without looking, she answered in harsh tones:
“I find the poor are most delightful persons.”
Sybil Dennant, seated on the sofa, with a feathery laugh shot a barking terrier dog at Shelton.
“Here's Dick,” she said. “Well, Dick, what's your opinion?”
Shelton looked around him, scared. The elder ladies who had spoken had fixed their eyes on him, and in their gaze he read his utter insignificance69.
“Oh, that young man!” they seemed to say. “Expect a practical remark from him? Now, come!”
The person on her feet, whose name was Mrs. Mattock, directing her peculiar sweet-sour smile at the distinguished lady with the Times, said:
“Perhaps you 've not had experience of them in London, Lady Bonington?”
Lady Bonington, in answer, rustled.
“Oh, do tell us about the slums, Mrs. Mattock!” cried Sybil.
“The poor, my dear,” began Mrs. Mattock, “are not the least bit what you think them—”
“Oh, d' you know, I think they're rather nice!” broke in Aunt Charlotte close to the hydrangea.
“They don't grumble at me: they are delightful persons”, and Lady Bonington gave Shelton a grim smile.
He could not help thinking that to grumble in the presence of that rich, despotic personality would require a superhuman courage.
“They're the most ungrateful people in the world,” said Mrs. Mattock.
“Why, then,” thought Shelton, “do you go amongst them?”
She continued, “One must do them good, one, must do one's duty, but as to getting thanks—”
Lady Bonington sardonically73 said,
“Poor things! they have a lot to bear.”
“The little children!” murmured Aunt Charlotte, with a flushing cheek and shining eyes; “it 's rather pathetic.”
“Children indeed!” said Mrs. Mattock. “It puts me out of all patience to see the way that they neglect them. People are so sentimental74 about the poor.”
Lady Bonington creaked again. Her splendid shoulders were wedged into her chair; her fine dark hair, gleaming with silver, sprang back upon her brow; a ruby75 bracelet76 glowed on the powerful wrist that held the journal; she rocked her copper-slippered foot. She did not appear to be too sentimental.
“I know they often have a very easy time,” said Mrs. Mattock, as if some one had injured her severely77. And Shelton saw, not without pity, that Fate had scored her kind and squashed-up face with wrinkles, whose tiny furrows78 were eloquent79 of good intentions frustrated80 by the unpractical and discontented poor. “Do what you will, they are never satisfied; they only resent one's help, or else they take the help and never thank you for it!”
“Oh!” murmured Aunt Charlotte, “that's rather hard.”
“I should do the same if I were they.”
Mrs. Mattock's brown eyes flew at him; Lady Bonington spoke to the Times; her ruby bracelet and a bangle jingled82.
“We ought to put ourselves in their places.”
Shelton could not help a smile; Lady Bonington in the places of the poor!
“Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Mattock, “I put myself entirely83 in their place. I quite understand their feelings. But ingratitude84 is a repulsive85 quality.”
“They seem unable to put themselves in your place,” murmured Shelton; and in a fit of courage he took the room in with a sweeping glance.
Yes, that room was wonderfully consistent, with its air of perfect second-handedness, as if each picture, and each piece of furniture, each book, each lady present, had been made from patterns. They were all widely different, yet all (like works of art seen in some exhibitions) had the look of being after the designs of some original spirit. The whole room was chaste86, restrained, derived87, practical, and comfortable; neither in virtue88 nor in work, neither in manner, speech, appearance, nor in theory, could it give itself away.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
luncheon
|
|
| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
ferment
|
|
| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
delightfully
|
|
| 大喜，欣然 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
radical
|
|
| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
jaded
|
|
| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
disapproving
|
|
| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
amiability
|
|
| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
docile
|
|
| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
judgments
|
|
| 判断( judgment的名词复数 )； 鉴定； 评价； 审判 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
semblance
|
|
| n.外貌，外表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
misgivings
|
|
| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
harassed
|
|
| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
disapproval
|
|
| n.反对，不赞成 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
recording
|
|
| n.录音，记录 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
precisely
|
|
| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
hostility
|
|
| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
jeering
|
|
| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
hack
|
|
| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
billiards
|
|
| n.台球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
hunched
|
|
| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
protruding
|
|
| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
suavity
|
|
| n.温和；殷勤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
blessing
|
|
| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
jutting
|
|
| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
vice
|
|
| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
proxy
|
|
| n.代理权，代表权；（对代理人的）委托书；代理人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
insignificant
|
|
| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
anecdotes
|
|
| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
anecdote
|
|
| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
writhed
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
caterpillar
|
|
| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
penguin
|
|
| n.企鹅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
petals
|
|
| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
sanguine
|
|
| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
aspiration
|
|
| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
tinged
|
|
| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
fussy
|
|
| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
meddle
|
|
| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
suffused
|
|
| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
bazaar
|
|
| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
rustled
|
|
| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
insignificance
|
|
| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
flannel
|
|
| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
grumble
|
|
| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
sardonically
|
|
| adv.讽刺地，冷嘲地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
ruby
|
|
| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
bracelet
|
|
| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
severely
|
|
| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
furrows
|
|
| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
eloquent
|
|
| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
frustrated
|
|
| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
jingled
|
|
| 喝醉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
ingratitude
|
|
| n.忘恩负义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
repulsive
|
|
| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
chaste
|
|
| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
derived
|
|
| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |