A gentleman of my acquaintance came to me the other day for sympathy.... But first I must describe him:—
He is a man of careful, not neat, dress: I would call it sober rather than neat. He is always clean-shaven and his scanty2 hair is kept short-cut. He is occupied in letters; he is, to put it bluntly, a litteratoor; none the less he is possessed3 of scholarship and is a minor4 authority upon English pottery5.
He is a very good writer of verse; he is not exactly a poet, but still, his verse is remarkable6. Two of his pieces have been publicly praised by political peers and at least half a dozen of them have been praised in private by the ladies of that world. He is a man fifty-four years of age, and, if I may say so without betraying him, a little disappointed.
[Pg 63]
He came to me, I say, for sympathy. I was sitting in my study watching the pouring rain falling upon the already soaked and drenched7 and drowned clay lands of my county. The leafless trees (which are in our part of a low but thick sort) were standing8 against a dead grey sky with a sort of ghost of movement in it, when he came in, opened his umbrella carefully so that it might not drip, and left it in the stone-floored passage—which is, to be accurate, six hundred years old—kicked off his galoshes and begged my hospitality; also (let me say it for the third time) my sympathy.
He said he had suffered greatly and that he desired to tell me the whole tale. I was very willing, and his tale was this:
It seems that my friend (according to his account) found himself recently in a country of a very delightful9 character.
This country lay up and heavenly upon a sort of table-land. One went up a road which led continually higher and higher through the ravines of the mountains, until, passing through[Pg 64] a natural gate of rock, one saw before one a wide plain bounded upon the further side by the highest crests10 of the range. Through this upland plain ran a broad and noble river whose reaches he could see in glimpses for miles, and upon the further bank of it in a direction opposite that which the gate of rock regarded, was a very delightful city.
The walls of this city were old in their texture11, venerable and majestic12 in their lines. Within their circumference13 could be discerned sacred buildings of a similar antiquity14, but also modern and convenient houses of a kind which my friend had not come across before, but which were evidently suited to the genial15, sunlit climate, as also to the habits of leisured men. Their roofs were flat, covered in places by awnings16, in other places by tiled verandas17, and these roofs were often disposed in the form of little gardens.
Trees were numerous in the city and showed their tops above the lower buildings, while the lines of their foliage18 indicated the direction of the streets.
[Pg 65]
My friend was passing down the road which led to this plain—and as it descended19 it took on an ampler and more majestic character—when he came upon a traveller who appeared to be walking in the direction of the town.
This traveller asked him courteously20 in the English tongue whether he were bound for the city. My friend was constrained22 to reply that he could not pretend to any definite plan, but certainly the prospect23 all round him was so pleasant and the aspect of the town so inviting24, that he would rather visit the capital of this delightful land at once than linger in its outskirts25.
"Come with me, then," said the Traveller, "and if I may make so bold upon so short an acquaintance, accept my hospitality. I have a good house upon the wall of the town and my rank among the citizens of it is that of a merchant;—I am glad to say a prosperous one."
He spoke26 without affectation and with so much kindness, that my friend was ravished to discover such a companion, and they proceeded[Pg 66] in leisurely27 company over the few miles that separated them from their goal.
The road was now paved in every part with small square slabs28, quite smooth and apparently29 constructed of some sort of marble. Upon either side there ran canalised in the shining stone a little stream of perfectly30 clear water. From time to time they would pass a lovely shrine31 or statue which the country people had adorned32 with garlands. As they approached the city they discovered a noble bridge in the manner, my friend believed, of the Italian Renaissance33, with strong elliptical arches and built, like all the rest of the way, of marble, while the balustrade upon either side of it was so disposed in short symmetrical columns as to be particularly grateful to the eye. Over this bridge there went to and fro a great concourse of people, all smiling, eager, happy and busy, largely acquainted, apparently, each with the others, nodding, exchanging news, and in a word forming a most blessed company.
As they entered the city my friend's [Pg 67]companion, who had talked of many things upon their way and had seemed to unite the most perfect courtesy and modesty34 with the widest knowledge, asked him whether there was any food or drink to which he was particularly attached.
"For," said he, "I make a point whenever I entertain a guest—and that," he put in with a laugh, "is, I am glad to say, a thing that happens frequently—I make a point, I say, of asking him what he really prefers. It makes such a difference!"
My friend began his reply with those conventional phrases to which we are all accustomed, "That he would be only too happy to take whatever was set before him," "That the prospect of his hospitality was a sufficient guarantee of his satisfaction," and so forth35: but his host would take no denial.
"No, no!" said he. "Do please say just what you prefer! It is so easy to arrange—if you only knew!... Come, I know the place better than you," he added, smiling again; "you[Pg 68] have no conception of its resources. Pray tell me quite simply before we leave this street"—for they were now in a street of sumptuous36 and well-appointed shops—"exactly what shall be commissioned."
Moved by I know not what freedom of expression, and expansive in a degree which he had never yet known, my friend smiled back and said: "Well, to tell you the truth, some such meal as this would appeal to me: First two dozen green-bearded oysters38 of the Arcachon kind, opened upon the deep shell with all their juices preserved, and each exquisitely39 cleaned. These set upon pounded ice and served in that sort of dish which is contrived41 for each oyster37 to repose42 in its own little recess43 with a sort of side arrangement for the reception of the empty shells."
His host nodded gravely, as one who takes in all that is said to him.
"Next," said my friend, in an enthusiastic manner, "real and good Russian caviar, cold but not frozen, and so touched with lemon—only [Pg 69]just so touched—as to be perfect. With this I think a little of the wine called Barsac should be drunk, and that cooled to about thirty-eight degrees—(Fahrenheit). After this a True Bouillon, and by a True Bouillon," said my friend with earnestness, "I mean a Bouillon that has long simmered in the pot and has been properly skimmed, and has been seasoned not only with the customary herbs but also with a suspicion of carrot and of onion, and a mere44 breath of tarragon."
"Right!" said his host. "Right!" nodding with real appreciation45.
"And next," said my friend, halting in the street to continue his list, "I think there should be eggs."
"Right," said his host once more approvingly; "and shall we say——"
"No," interrupted my friend eagerly, "let me speak. Eggs sur-le-plat, frizzled to the exact degree."
"Just what I was about to suggest," answered his delighted entertainer, "and black[Pg 70] pepper, I hope, ground large upon them in fresh granules from a proper wooden mill."
"Yes! Yes!" said my friend, now lyric46, "and with sea salt in large crystals."
On saying which both of them fell into a sort of ecstasy47 which my friend broke by adding:
"Something quite light to follow ... preferably a sugar-cured Ham braised in white wine. Then, I think, spinach48, not with the ham but after it; and that spinach cooked perfectly dry. We will conclude with some of the cheese called Brie. And for wine during all these latter courses we will drink the wine of Chinon: Chinon Grillé. What they call," he added slyly, "the Fausse maigre; for it is a wine thin at sight but full in the drinking of it."
"Good! Excellent!" said his host, clapping his hands together once with a gesture of finality. "And then after the lot you shall have coffee."
"Yes, coffee roasted during the meal and ground immediately before its concoction49. And for liqueur...."
[Pg 71]
My friend was suddenly taken with a little doubt. "I dare not ask," said he, "for the liqueur called Aquebus? Once only did I taste it. A monk50 gave it me on Christmas Eve four years ago and I think it is not known!"
"Oh, ask for it by all means!" said his host. "Why, we know it and love it in this place as though it were a member of the family!"
My friend could hardly believe his ears on hearing such things, and said nothing of cigars. But to his astonishment51 his host, putting his left hand on my friend's shoulder, looked him full in the face and said:
"And now shall I tell you about cigars?"
"I confess they were in my mind," said my friend.
"Why then," said his host with an expression of profound happiness, "there is a cigar in this town which is full of flavour, black in colour, which does not bite the tongue, and which none the less satisfies whatever tobacco does[Pg 72] satisfy in man. When you smoke it you really dream."
"Why," said my friend humbly52, "very well then, let us mention these cigars as the completion of our little feast."
"Little feast, indeed!" said his host, "why it is but a most humble53 meal. Anyhow, I am glad to have had from you a proper schedule of your pleasures of the table. In time to come when we know each other better, we will arrange other large and really satisfactory meals; but this will do very well for our initiatory54 lunch as it were." And he laughed merrily.
"But have I not given you great trouble?" said my friend.
"How little you will easily perceive," said his companion, "for in this town we have but to order and all is at once promptly55 and intelligently done." With that he turned into a small office where a commissary at once took down his order. "And now," said he emerging, "let us be home."
They went together down the turnings of a[Pg 73] couple of broad streets lined with great private palaces and public temples until they came to a garden which had no boundaries to it but which was open, and apparently the property of the city. But the people who wandered here were at once so few, so discreet56 and so courteous21, my friend could not discover whether they were (as their salutes57 seemed to indicate) the dependents of his host, or merely acquaintances who recognized him upon their way.
This garden, as they proceeded, became more private and more domestic; it led by narrowing paths through high, diversified58 trees, until, beyond the screen of a great beech59 hedge, he saw the house ... and it was all that a house should be!
Its clear, well set stone walls were in such perfect harmony with the climate and with the sky, its roof garden from which a child was greeting them upon their approach, so unexpected and so suitable, its arched open gallery was of so august a sort, and yet the domestic ornaments60 of its colonnade61 so familiar, that[Pg 74] nothing could be conceived more appropriate for the residence of man.
The mere passage into this Home out of the warm morning daylight into the inner domestic cool, was a benediction62, and in the courtyard which they thus entered a lazy fountain leaped and babbled63 to itself in a manner that filled the heart with ease.
"I do not know," said his host in a gentle whisper as they crossed the courtyard, "whether it is your custom to bathe before the morning meal or in the middle of the afternoon?"
"Why, sir," said my friend, "if I may tell the whole truth, I have no custom in the matter; but perhaps the middle of the afternoon would suit me best."
"By all means," said his host in a satisfied tone. "And I think you have chosen wisely, for the meal you have ordered will very shortly be prepared. But, for your refreshment64 at least, one of my friends shall put you in order, cool your hands and forehead, see to your face[Pg 75] and hair, put comfortable sandals upon your feet and give you a change of raiment."
All of this was done. My friend's host did well to call the servant who attended upon his guest a "friend," for there was in this man's manner no trace of servility or of dependence65, and yet an eager willingness for service coupled with a perfect reticence66 which was admirable to behold67 and feel.
When my friend had been thus refreshed he was conducted to a most exceptional little room. Four pictures were set in the walls of it, mosaics68, they seemed—but he did not examine their medium closely. The room itself in its perfect lightness and harmony, with its view out through a large round arch upon the countryside beyond the walls (the old turrets69 of which made a framework for the view), exactly prepared him for the meal that was prepared.
While the oysters (delightful things!) were entering upon their tray and were being put upon the table, the host, taking my friend aside with an exquisite40 gesture of courteous[Pg 76] privacy, led him through the window-arch on to a balcony without, and said, as they gazed upon the wall and the plain and the mountains beyond (and what a sight they were!):
"There is one thing, my dear sir, that I should like to say to you before you eat ... it is rather a delicate matter.... You will not mind my being perfectly frank?"
"Speak on, speak on," said my friend, who by this time would have confided70 any interests whatsoever71 into the hands of such a host.
"Well," said that host, continuing a little carefully, "it is this: as you can see we are very careful in this city to make men as happy as may be. We are happy ourselves, and we love to confer happiness upon others, strangers and travellers who honour us with their presence. But we find—I am very sorry to say we find ... that is, we find from time to time that their complete happiness, no matter with what we may provide them, is dashed by certain forms of anxiety, the chief of which is anxiety with regard to their future receipts of money."
[Pg 77]
My friend started.
"Nay," said his host hastily, "do not misunderstand me. I do not mean that preoccupations of business are alone so alarming. What I mean is that sometimes, yes, and I may say often (horrible as it seems to us!), our guests are in an active preoccupation about the petty business of finance. Some few have debts, it seems, in the wretched society from which they come, and of which, frankly72, I know nothing. Others, though not indebted, feel insecure about the future. Others though wealthy are oppressed by their responsibilities. Now," he continued firmly, "I must tell you once and for all that we have a custom here upon which we take no denial: no denial whatsoever. Every man who enters this city, who honours us by entering this city, is made free of that sort of nonsense, thank God!" And as he said this, my friend's host breathed a great sigh of relief. "It would be intolerable to us to think," he continued, "that our welcome and dear companions were suffering from such a tawdry thing[Pg 78] as money-worry in our presence. So the matter is plainly this: whether you like it or whether you do not, the sum of £10,000 is already set down to your credit in the public bank of the city; whether you use it or not is your business; if you do not it is our custom to melt down an equivalent sum of gold and to cast it into the depths of the river, for we have of this metal an unfailing supply, and I confess we do not find it easy to understand the exaggerated value which other men place upon it."
"I do not know that I shall have occasion to use so magnificent a custom," said my friend with an extraordinary relief in his heart, "but I certainly thank you very kindly73 for its intention, and I shall not hesitate to use any sum that may be necessary for my continuing the great happiness which this city appears to afford."
"You have spoken well," said his host, seizing both his hands, "and your frankness compels me to another confession74: We have at our disposal a means of discovering exactly how any one of our guests may stand: the responsibilities[Pg 79] of the rich, the indebtedness of the embarrassed, the anxiety of those whose future may be precarious75. May I tell you without discourtesy, that your own case is known to me and to two trustees, who are public officials—absolutely reliable—and whom, for that matter, you will not meet."
My friend must have looked incredulous, but his host continued firmly: "It is so, we have settled your whole matter, I am glad to say, on terms that settle all your liabilities and leave a further £50,000 to your credit in the public bank. But the size of the sum is in this city really of no importance. You may demand whatever you will, and enjoy, I hope, a complete security during your habitation here. And that habitation, both the Town Council and the National Government, beg you, through me, to extend to the whole of your life."
* * * * *
"Imagine," said my friend, "how I felt.... The oysters were now upon the table, and[Pg 80] before them, ready for consumption, the caviar. The Barsac in its original bottle, cooled (need I say!) to exactly thirty-eight degrees, stood ready...."
At this point he stopped and gazed into the fire.
"But, my dear fellow," said I, "if you are coming to me for sympathy and simply succeed in making me hungry and cross...."
"No," said my friend with a sob1, "you don't understand!" And he continued to gaze at the fire.
"Well, go on," said I angrily.
"There isn't any on," he said; "I woke!"
We both looked into the fire together for perhaps three minutes before I spoke and said:
"Will you have some wine?"
"No thank you," he answered sadly, "not that wine." Then he got up uneasily and moved for his umbrella and his galoshes, and the passage and the door. I thought he muttered, "You might have helped me."
[Pg 81]
"How could I help you?" I said savagely76.
"Well," he sighed, "I thought you could ... it was a bitter disappointment. Good night!" And he went out again into the rain and over the clay.
点击收听单词发音
1 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 pottery | |
n.陶器,陶器场 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 drenched | |
adj.湿透的;充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 );在某人(某物)上大量使用(某液体) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 crests | |
v.到达山顶(或浪峰)( crest的第三人称单数 );到达洪峰,达到顶点 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 texture | |
n.(织物)质地;(材料)构造;结构;肌理 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 circumference | |
n.圆周,周长,圆周线 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 awnings | |
篷帐布 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 verandas | |
阳台,走廊( veranda的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 courteously | |
adv.有礼貌地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 constrained | |
adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 inviting | |
adj.诱人的,引人注目的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 outskirts | |
n.郊外,郊区 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 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: |
|
|
27 leisurely | |
adj.悠闲的;从容的,慢慢的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 slabs | |
n.厚板,平板,厚片( slab的名词复数 );厚胶片 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 renaissance | |
n.复活,复兴,文艺复兴 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 modesty | |
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 sumptuous | |
adj.豪华的,奢侈的,华丽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 oyster | |
n.牡蛎;沉默寡言的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 oysters | |
牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 exquisitely | |
adv.精致地;强烈地;剧烈地;异常地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 recess | |
n.短期休息,壁凹(墙上装架子,柜子等凹处) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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 lyric | |
n.抒情诗,歌词;adj.抒情的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 ecstasy | |
n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 spinach | |
n.菠菜 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 concoction | |
n.调配(物);谎言 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 humbly | |
adv. 恭顺地,谦卑地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 initiatory | |
adj.开始的;创始的;入会的;入社的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 discreet | |
adj.(言行)谨慎的;慎重的;有判断力的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 salutes | |
n.致敬,欢迎,敬礼( salute的名词复数 )v.欢迎,致敬( salute的第三人称单数 );赞扬,赞颂 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 diversified | |
adj.多样化的,多种经营的v.使多样化,多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 );进入新的商业领域 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 beech | |
n.山毛榉;adj.山毛榉的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 ornaments | |
n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 );点缀;装饰品;首饰v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 colonnade | |
n.柱廊 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 benediction | |
n.祝福;恩赐 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 babbled | |
v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 );作潺潺声(如流水);含糊不清地说话;泄漏秘密 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 refreshment | |
n.恢复,精神爽快,提神之事物;(复数)refreshments:点心,茶点 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 dependence | |
n.依靠,依赖;信任,信赖;隶属 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 reticence | |
n.沉默,含蓄 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 mosaics | |
n.马赛克( mosaic的名词复数 );镶嵌;镶嵌工艺;镶嵌图案 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 turrets | |
(六角)转台( turret的名词复数 ); (战舰和坦克等上的)转动炮塔; (摄影机等上的)镜头转台; (旧时攻城用的)塔车 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 confided | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的过去式和过去分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 whatsoever | |
adv.(用于否定句中以加强语气)任何;pron.无论什么 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 confession | |
n.自白,供认,承认 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 precarious | |
adj.不安定的,靠不住的;根据不足的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 savagely | |
adv. 野蛮地,残酷地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |