Manuel returned to Alex’s studio. That worthy1, displeased2 with the boy because he had left the place without so much as saying good-bye, refused to allow him to stay there again.
The bohemians who forgathered at the studio asked how Bernardo was getting along, and uttered a string of humorous commentaries upon the lot that Fate held in store for the photographer.
“So Roberto developed his plates?” asked one.
“Yes.”
“He retouched his plates and his wife,” added another.
“Not at all. He’s a philosopher of Candide’s school. Be a cuckold and cultivate your garden. There lies true happiness.”
“And what are you going to do now?” asked Alex sarcastically4 of Manuel.
“I don’t know. I’ll look for employment.”
“See here, do you fellows know a man by the name of Se?or Don Bonifacio Mingote, who lives on the third floor of this house?” asked Don[39] Servando Arzubiaga, the thin, indifferent gentleman.
“No.”
“He’s an employment agent. He can’t have very good jobs on his list, or he’d have got himself one. I know him through the newspaper; he was formerly5 the representative for certain mineral waters and used to bring advertisements. He was telling me the other day that he needed a young fellow.”
“Better go see him,” advised Alex.
“You don’t aspire6 to be a grandee7 of Spain, do you?” asked Don Servando of Manuel, with a smile blended of irony8 and kindliness9.
“No, nor you, either,” retorted Manuel, ill-humouredly.
Don Servando burst into laughter.
“If you’re willing, we’ll see this Mingote. Shall we go this very moment?”
“Come along, if you wish.”
They went down to the third floor, knocked at a door, and were bidden into a narrow dining-room. They asked for the agent and a slovenly10 servant-girl pointed11 to a door. Don Servando rapped with his knuckles12, and in response to a “Come in!” from some one inside, they both entered the room.
A corpulent man with thick, dyed moustaches, wrapped in a woman’s cloak, was pacing up and down, declaiming and gesticulating with a cane13 in his right hand. He stopped, and opening wide his arms, in theatrical14 tones exclaimed: “Ah, my dear Se?or Don Servando! Welcome, welcome!” Then he gazed at the ceiling, and in the same affected15 manner, added: “What brings to this poor[40] habitation at such an early hour the illustrious writer, the inveterate16 night-owl?”
Don Servando related to the corpulent gentleman, who was none other than Don Bonifacio Mingote himself, the reasons for his visit.
In the meantime an ugly creature, filthy17 and sickly, with arms like a doll’s and the head of a Chinaman, stuck his pen behind his ear and began to rub his palms with an air of satisfaction.
The room was ill-smelling, cluttered18 with torn posters, large and small, which were pasted to the wall; in a corner stood a narrow bed, in disarray19; there were three disembowelled chairs with the horse-hair stuffing exposed; in the middle, a brazier protected by a wire-netting, on which two dirty socks were drying.
“For the present I can promise nothing,” said the employment agent to Don Servando, after hearing his story. “Tomorrow I can tell better; but I have something good under way.”
“You understand what this gentleman is saying,” said Don Servando to Manuel. “Come here tomorrow.”
“Can you write?” Se?or Mingote asked the boy.
“Yes, sir.”
“With correct spelling?”
“There may be some words that I don’t know....”
“Oh, it’s the same with me. We really great men despise those truly petty matters. Sit down here and get to work.” He placed a chair at the other side of the table where the yellow man was[41] writing. “This work,” he added, “will serve as payment for the favour I’m going to do you,—finding you a first-class situation.”
“Se?or Mingote,” exclaimed Don Servando, “my infinite thanks for everything.”
“Se?or Don Servando! Always at your service!” replied the business and employment agent, refocussing one of his cross eyes and making a solemn bow.
Manuel sat down before the table, took the pen, dipped it into the ink-well and waited for further orders.
“Write one of these names on each circular,” instructed Mingote, handing him a list of names and a package of circulars. The agent’s handwriting was bad, defective,—that of a man who scarcely knows how to write. The circular was headed as follows:
LA EUROPEA
Business and Employment Agency
Bonifacio Mingote, Director
In it were offered to the various social classes all manner of articles, opportunities and positions.
One might purchase at bottom prices medicinal remedies, meats, oilskins, fruits, shell fish, funeral wreaths, false teeth, ladies’ hats; sputum and urine were analyzed20; the agency hunted up guaranteed governesses; it procured21 notes from the courses in Law, Medicine and special professions; it offered capital, loans, mortgages; it arranged for sensational22, monstrous23 advertisements. And all these[42] services, plus a multitude of others, were supplied at a minimum fee so tiny as to appear ridiculous.
Manuel set to work copying the names in his best hand on to the circulars and the envelopes.
Se?or Mingote inspected Manuel’s handwriting, and after congratulating him, wrapped himself up in his cloak, took two or three strides about the room and asked his secretary:
“Where were we?”
“We were saying,” replied the amanuensis with sinister24 gravity, “that the Estrellado Fernández brand of Anis is salvation25.”
“Ah, yes; I remember.”
And all at once Se?or Mingote began to shout, in a thunderous voice:
“What is Estrellado Fernández Anis? It is salvation, it is life, it is energy, it is power.”
Manuel raised his eyes in astonishment26, and beheld27 the agent’s distracted gaze fixed28 upon the ceiling; he was gesticulating wildly, as if threatening some one with his right hand which was armed with the cane, while his secretary scribbled29 rapidly over the sheet.
“It is a fact, universally recognized by Science,” continued Mingote in his melodramatic tones, “that neurasthenia, asthenia, impotency, hysteria and many other disorders31 of the nervous system.... What other ailments32 does it cure?” Mingote paused to ask, in his natural voice.
“ ... That rickets, scrofula, chorea and many other disorders of the nervous system....”
[43]
“Pardon,” interrupted the amanuensis. “I believe that rickets is not a disorder30 of the nervous system.”
“Very well. Scratch it out. Let’s see; we were at the nervous system, weren’t we?”
“Yes, sir.”
“ ... And other disorders of the nervous system come solely34 and exclusively from atony,—exhaustion of the nerve-cells. Well, then,—” and Mingote increased the volume of his voice with a new fervour,—“Estrellado Fernández Anis corrects this atony; Estrellado Fernández Anis, exciting the secretion35 of the gastric36 juices, routs37 these ailments which age and destroy mankind.”
After this paragraph, delivered with the greatest enthusiasm and oratorical38 fire, Mingote brushed his trousers with his cane and muttered, in his natural voice.
“You mark my word. That Se?or Fernández won’t pay. And if only the anisette were good! Haven’t they sent some more bottles from the pharmacy39?”
“Yes, yesterday they sent two.”
“And where are they?”
“I took them home.”
“Eh?”
“Yes. They promised them to me. And since you made off with the whole first consignment40, I took the liberty of carrying these home with me.”
“Lord in heaven! Excellent! First rate!... Have folks send you some bottles of magnificent anisette so that some other fellow with long fingers[44] may come along and.... Good God above!” And Mingote paused to stare at the ceiling with one of his cross eyes.
“Haven’t you any left?” asked his secretary.
“Yes, but they’ll run out at any moment.”
Then he began another eloquent41 paragraph, pacing up and down the room, brandishing42 his cane, and frequently interrupting his discourse43 to utter some violent apostrophe or humorous reflection.
At noon the amanuensis arose, clapped his hat down upon his head, and went off without a word or a salute44.
Mingote placed his hand upon Manuel’s shoulder and said to him, in fatherly fashion:
“Well, you can go home now to eat, and be back at about two.”
Manuel climbed up to the studio; neither Roberto nor Alejo was there; nor was a crumb45 to be found in the entire establishment. He rummaged46 through all the corners, returning by half-past one, to Don Bonifacio’s where, between one yawn and another, he continued to address the circulars.
Mingote was highly pleased with Manuel’s proficiency47, and either because of this, or because at his meal he had devoted48 himself excessively to Estrellado Fernández’ Anis, he surrendered himself to the most incoherent and picturesque49 verbosity50, his gaze as ever fixed upon the ceiling. Manuel laughed loud guffaws51 at Don Bonifacio’s comical, extravagant52 witticisms53.
“You’re not like my secretary,” said the agent to him, flattered by the boy’s manifestations54 of[45] pleasure. “He doesn’t crack a smile at my jokes, but then he steals them from me and repeats them, all garbled55, in those cheap little funereal56 pieces he writes. And that’s not the worst. Read this.” And Mingote handed Manuel a printed announcement.
This, too, was a circular in Don Bonifacio’s style. It read:
LA BENEFACTORA
Medico-Pharmaceutical Agency
Don Pelayo Huesca, Director
No one makes good his promises so well as he. The Administrative57 Council of La Benefactora is composed of the wealthiest bankers of Madrid. La Benefactora runs an account with the Bank of Spain. There is no admission fee to La Benefactora.
It proffers58 services as lawyer, relator, procurator, physician, apothecary59; it provides aid for births, dietary regimen, burials, lactation, and so forth60.
Monthly fee: one, two, two-and-a-half, three, four and five pesetas.
(Actions speak louder than words)
General Director: Pelayo Huesca, Misericordia, 6.
“Eh?” cried Mingote when Manuel had finished reading. “What do you think of that? Here he is making his living in La Europa, and then he goes and plagiarizes61 me and runs La Benefactora. That man is the same way in everything. As treacherous62 as the waves. But ah, Se?or Don Pelayo, I’ll get even with you yet. If you’re a[46] perfidious63 bat, I’ll nail you to my door; if you’re a miserable64 tortoise, I’ll smash your shell for you. Do you see, my son? What can you expect of a country where they don’t respect intellectual property, which is not only the most sacred, but the only legitimate65 form of all property?”
Mingote did not point out to Manuel a note that was printed on the margin66 of his circular. This was one of Don Pelayo’s ideas. In it the Agency offered itself for certain intimate investigations67 and services. This note, very tactfully drawn68 up, was addressed to those who wished to form the acquaintance of an agreeable woman so as to complete their education; to those who were eager to consummate69 a good match; to those who harboured doubts as to their other half; and to others, to whom the Agency offered probing and confidential70 investigations, at a low price, and vigilance by day and by night, accomplishing all these assignments with the utmost delicacy71.
Mingote did not like to confess that this idea had escaped him.
“Do you understand? It’s impossible to live,” he concluded. “Folks are nothing but beasts. I see, however, that you make distinctions, and I’ll take you under my wing.”
And, indeed, through Mingote’s protection, Manuel was able to eat that night.
“Tomorrow, when you arrive,” instructed Bonifacio, “you’ll take a package of these circulars and go around distributing them from house to house, without missing a single one. I don’t want you to[47] slip them in under the doors, either. At every house you are to knock and ask. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In the meantime, I’ll be looking after your position.”
On the following day Manuel distributed a package of circulars and returned at meal time with his task accomplished72.
He was getting tired of waiting when Mingote appeared in his room; he stopped in front of Manuel, swept his cane rapidly through the air, struck the boy’s arms, stood still, recoiled73, and shouted:
“What’s the trouble?” asked Manuel in fright.
“The trouble? You knave76! The trouble? Wretch, you! You’re the luckiest fellow on two feet; your future is assured; you’ve landed a job.”
“As what?”
“As a son.”
“As a son? I don’t understand.”
Mingote planted himself squarely, gazed at the ceiling, saluted77 with his cane as a fencing-master would with his foil, and added:
“Who? I?”
“Yes. You’ve no cause for complaint, you rogue! You rise out of the gutter80 to the heights of aristocracy. You may even manage to acquire a title.”
“But is all this true?”
“As true as I’m the most talented man in all Europe. So get a move on, my future Baron78;[48] spruce up, scratch off your dirt, brush your hair, scrape the mud off those filthy sandals of yours, and accompany me to the home of the baroness.”
Manuel was dumfounded; he could not understand what it was all about. But he knew that the agent would not have taken the trouble to run all over town simply for the pleasure of perpetrating a joke upon him.
At once he made ready to accompany Mingote. Together they entered the Calle Ancha de San Bernardo, strode down Los Reyes to the Calle Princesa, and continued along this street until they paused before a wide entrance, into which they disappeared.
A series of galleries with symmetrical rows of chocolate-hued doors surrounded the patio.
Mingote knocked at one of the doors of the gallery on the second floor.
“Who is it?” asked a woman’s voice from within.
“It’s me,” replied Mingote.
“I’m coming. I’m coming.”
The door was opened and there appeared a mulattress in battered82 shoes, followed by three poodle dogs, who barked furiously.
Manuel and Mingote walked into a stifling84 room, which had a window that looked upon the patio. The walls of the room, from a certain height, were[49] almost covered with women’s clothes that formed a sort of wainscoting all around it. From the shutter-bolt of the window was suspended a low cut sleeveless chemise with lace edging and bows of faded blue, which displayed cynically85 a dark blood-stain.
“Wait a moment. The lady is dressing,” requested the mulattress.
Within a short while she reappeared and asked them to step into the study.
The baroness, a blonde woman attired86 in a bright gown, was reclining upon a sofa in an attitude of intense languor87 and desolation.
“Here again, Mingote?”
“Yes, madame. Again.”
“Have a seat, gentlemen.”
The place was a cramped88, ill-lighted room crowded with far more furniture than it could easily accommodate. Within a short space were heaped together an old console with a mantle-clock upon it; several crumpled89 armchairs, upon which the silk, once upon a time red, had turned violet through the action of the sun; two large oil portraits, and a bevelled mirror with a cracked surface.
“I bring to you, dear Baroness,” said Mingote, “the youngster of whom we have spoken.”
“Is this the one?”
“Yes.”
“It seems to me I know this boy.”
“Yes. And I know you, too,” spoke90 up Manuel. “I was in a boarding-house on the Calle de Mesonero Romanos; the landlady’s name was Do?a Casiana;[50] my mother was the maid-of-all-work there.”
“Indeed. That’s so. And your mother,—how is she getting along?” asked the baroness of Manuel.
“She’s dead.”
“He’s an orphan,” interjected Mingote. “As free as the forest bird,—free to sing and to die of hunger. It was in just such circumstances that I myself arrived in Madrid some time back, and queerly, strangely enough, strangely indeed, I’d like to go back to those good old days.”
“And how old are you?” asked the baroness of the boy, unheedful of the agent’s reflections.
“Eighteen.”
“But see here, Mingote,” exclaimed the baroness, “this youngster is not the age you said he was.”
“That doesn’t matter at all. Nobody would say that he was a day over fourteen or fifteen. Hunger does not permit the products of nature to grow. If you cease watering a tree, or cease feeding a human being....”
“Tell me,”—and the baroness interrupted Mingote impatiently as she lowered her voice, “have you told him what he’s wanted for?”
“Yes; he would have guessed it at once, anyway. You can’t fool a kid like this, who’s knocked about the town, as if he were a respectable child. Poverty is a great teacher, Baroness.”
“And you tell that to me?” replied the lady. “When I think of the life I’ve led and am leading now, my hair stands on end. Without a doubt the good Lord endowed me with a privileged nature, for I accustom91 myself quite easily to everything.”
[51]
“You can always lead an easy life if you wish,” answered Mingote. “Oh! If I had only been born a woman! What a career I’d have led!”
“Let’s not talk of that.”
“You’re right. What’s the use? Now we’ll plan our new stratagem92. I’ll get to work preparing the proofs of the boy’s civil status. And do you wish to take charge of him?”
“Very well.”
“He can run your errands for you. He’s a pretty good hand at writing.”
“Never mind. Let him remain here.”
“Then, my dear Baroness, good-bye until one of these days when I’ll bring you the documents. Dear lady ... at your feet.”
“Ay, how ceremonious! Good-bye, Mingote! See him out, Manuel.”
The two men walked to the door together. There the agent placed his hands upon the youth’s shoulders.
“Good-bye, my lad,” he said. “And don’t forget, if ever you should become a baron in real earnest, that you owe it all to me.”
“I’ll not forget. You needn’t worry on that score,” answered Manuel.
“You’ll always remember your protector?”
“Always.”
“My son, preserve that filial piety93. For a protector such as I is almost like a father. He is ... I was about to say, the arm of Providence94. I feel deeply moved.... I am no longer young. Have you, by any chance, a few coins in your pocket?”
[52]
“No.”
“That’s too bad,” and Mingote, after a sweep with his cane, left the house.
Manuel closed the door and returned to the room on tip-toe.
“Chucha! Chucha!” called the baroness. And when the mulattress appeared who had opened the door to Mingote and Manuel, the baroness said to her:
“See. This is the boy.”
“Jesu! Jesu!” shrieked95 the servant. “He’s a ragamuffin! Whatever put it into madame’s head to bring such a tramp into the house?”
Before such an outburst as this, although it was spoken in the most mellifluous96 and languid of tones, Manuel stood paralyzed.
“You’ve terrified the lad,” exclaimed the baroness, bursting into loud laughter.
“But Your Grace must be mad,” muttered the servant.
“Hush! Hush! Not so much noise. Get some soap and water ready for him and have him wash up.”
The mulattress left, and the baroness scrutinized97 Manuel closely.
“So the man told you what you’ve come here for?”
“Yes, he told me something.”
“And are you willing?”
“Yes, I am, Se?ora.”
“Good. You’re a philosopher. I’m quite satisfied. And what have you done up to now?”
[53]
Manuel recounted his adventures, drawing a little upon his imagination, and entertained the baroness for a while.
“Fine. Don’t say a word to anybody, understand?... And now go and wash yourself.”
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收听单词发音
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1
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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aspire
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| vi.(to，after)渴望，追求，有志于 | |
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grandee
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| n.贵族；大公 | |
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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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kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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slovenly
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| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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cluttered
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| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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disarray
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| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
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analyzed
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| v.分析( analyze的过去式和过去分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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disorders
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| n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 )；凌乱；骚乱；（身心、机能）失调 | |
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ailments
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| 疾病（尤指慢性病），不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
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rickets
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| n.软骨病，佝偻病，驼背 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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secretion
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gastric
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| adj.胃的 | |
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routs
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| n.打垮，赶跑( rout的名词复数 )；（体育）打败对方v.打垮，赶跑( rout的第三人称单数 )；（体育）打败对方 | |
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oratorical
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| adj.演说的，雄辩的 | |
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pharmacy
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| n.药房，药剂学，制药业，配药业，一批备用药品 | |
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consignment
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| n.寄售；发货；委托；交运货物 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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rummaged
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
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proficiency
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| n.精通，熟练，精练 | |
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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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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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verbosity
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| n.冗长，赘言 | |
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51
guffaws
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| n.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的名词复数 )v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的第三人称单数 ) | |
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52
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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witticisms
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| n.妙语，俏皮话( witticism的名词复数 ) | |
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manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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garbled
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| adj.（指信息）混乱的，引起误解的v.对（事实）歪曲，对（文章等）断章取义，窜改( garble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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administrative
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| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
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proffers
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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apothecary
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| n.药剂师 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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plagiarizes
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| v.剽窃，抄袭( plagiarize的第三人称单数 ) | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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perfidious
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| adj.不忠的，背信弃义的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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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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consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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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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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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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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recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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mountebank
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| n.江湖郎中；骗子 | |
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knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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baroness
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| n.男爵夫人，女男爵 | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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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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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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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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accustom
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| vt.使适应，使习惯 | |
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stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mellifluous
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| adj.（音乐等）柔美流畅的 | |
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scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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