He was seated on the front porch, working out a somewhat difficult point in his new book, when it had first occurred to him that this particular terrace would be an inspiring and appropriate place in which to think the matter over, undisturbed, he said. And it was impossible he should have known that anyone was there, as the seventh terrace happens to be the only one that, being planted with beech-trees, is completely screened from observation. From the house, you cannot see anything that happens there.
It was a curious accident, though. It really seemed, now that Patricia had put an ending to their meetings in the maple-grove, Fate was conspiring4 to bring them together.
However, as Mr. Charteris pointed5 out, there could be no possible objection to this conspiracy6, since they had decided7 that their friendship was to be of a purely8 platonic9 nature. It was a severe trial to him, he confessed, to be forced to put aside certain dreams he had had of the future—mad dreams, perhaps, but such as had seemed very dear and very plausible10 to his impractical11 artistic12 temperament13.
Still, it heartened him to hope that their friendship—since it was to be no more—might prove a survival, or rather a veritable renaissance14, of the beautiful old Greek spirit in such matters. And, though the blind chance that mismanaged the world had chained them to uncongenial, though certainly well-meaning, persons, this was no logical reason why he and Patricia should be deprived of the pleasures of intellectual intercourse15. Their souls were too closely akin3.
For Mr. Charteris admitted that his soul was Grecian to the core, and out of place and puzzled and very lonely in a sordid16, bustling17 world; and he assured Patricia—she did not object if he called her Patricia?—that her own soul possessed18 all the beauty and purity and calm of an Aphrodite sculptured by Phidias. It was such a soul as Horace might have loved, as Theocritus might have hymned in glad Greek song. Patricia flushed, and dissented19 somewhat.
"Frankly20, mon ami," she said, "you are far too attractive for your company to be quite safe. You are such an adept21 in the nameless little attentions that women love—so profuse22 with lesser23 sugar-plums of speech and action—that after two weeks one's husband is really necessary as an antidote24. Sugar-plums are good, but, like all palatable25 things, unwholesome. So I shall prescribe Rudolph's company for myself, to ward27 off an attack of moral indigestion. I am very glad he has come back—really glad," she added, conscientiously28. "Poor old Rudolph! what between his interminable antiquities29 and those demented sections of the alphabet—What are those things, mon ami, that are always going up and down in Wall Street?"
"Elevators?" Mr. Charteris suggested.
"Oh, you jay-bird! I mean those N.P.'s and N.Y.C.'s and those other letters that are always having flurries and panics and passed dividends30. They keep him incredibly busy."
And she sighed, tolerantly. Patricia had come within the last two weeks to believe that she was neglected, if not positively31 ill-treated, by her husband; and she had no earthly objection to Mr. Charteris thinking likewise. Her face expressed patient resignation now, as they walked under the close-matted foliage32 of the beech-trees, which made a pleasant, sun-flecked gloom about them.
Patricia removed her hat—the morning really was rather close—and paused where a sunbeam fell upon her copper-colored hair, and glorified33 her wistful countenance34. She sighed once more, and added a finishing touch to the portrait of a femme incomprise.
"Pray, don't think, mon ami," she said very earnestly, "that I am blaming Rudolph! I suppose no wife can ever hope to have any part in her husband's inner life."
"Not in her own husband's, of course," said Charteris, cryptically35.
"No, for while a woman gives her heart all at once, men crumble36 theirs away, as one feeds bread to birds—a crumb37 to this woman, a crumb to that—and such a little crumb, sometimes! And his wife gets what is left over."
"Pray, where did you read that?" said Charteris.
"I didn't read it anywhere. It was simply a thought that came to me," Patricia lied, gently. "But don't let's try to be clever. Cleverness is always a tax, but before luncheon38 it is an extortion. Personally, it makes me feel as if I had attended a welsh-rabbit supper the night before. Your wife must be very patient."
"My wife," cried Charteris, in turn resolved to screen an unappreciative mate, "is the most dear and most kind-hearted among the Philistines39. And yet, at times, I grant you—"
"Oh, but, of course!" Patricia said impatiently. "I don't for a moment question that your wife is an angel."
"Why, wasn't it an angel," Patricia queried41, all impishness now, "who kept the first man and woman out of paradise?"
"If—if I thought you meant that——!" he cried; and then he shrugged42 his shoulders. "My wife's virtues43 merit a better husband than Fate has accorded her. Anne is the best woman I have ever known."
Patricia was not unnaturally44 irritated. After all, one does not take the trouble to meet a man accidentally in a plantation45 of young beech-trees in order to hear him discourse46 of his wife's good qualities; and besides, Mr. Charteris was speaking in a disagreeably solemn manner, rather as if he fancied himself in a cathedral.
Therefore Patricia cast down her eyes again, and said:
"Men of genius are so rarely understood by their wives."
"We will waive47 the question of genius." Mr. Charteris laughed heartily48, but he had flushed with pleasure.
"I suppose," he continued, pacing up and down with cat-like fervor49, "that matrimony is always more or less of a compromise—like two convicts chained together trying to catch each other's gait. After a while, they succeed to a certain extent; the chain is still heavy, of course, but it does not gall50 them as poignantly51 as it used to do. And I fear the artistic temperament is not suited to marriage; its capacity for suffering is too great."
Mr. Charteris caught his breath in shuddering52 fashion, and he paused before Patricia. After a moment he grasped her by both wrists.
"We are chained fast enough, my lady," he cried, bitterly, "and our sentence is for life! There are green fields yonder, but our allotted53 place is here in the prison-yard. There is laughter yonder in the fields, and the scent54 of wild flowers floats in to us at times when we are weary, and the whispering trees sway their branches over the prison-wall, and their fruit is good to look on, and they hang within reach—ah, we might reach them very easily! But this is forbidden fruit, my lady; and it is not included in our wholesome26 prison-fare. And so don't think of it! We have been happy, you and I, for a little. We might—don't think of it! Don't dare think of it! Go back and help your husband drag his chain; it galls55 him as sorely as it does you. It galls us all. It is the heaviest chain was ever forged; but we do not dare shake it off!"
"I—oh, Jack56, Jack, don't you dare to talk to me like that! We must be brave. We must be sensible." Patricia, regardless of her skirts, sat down upon the ground, and produced a pocket-handkerchief. "I—oh, what do you mean by making me so unhappy?" she demanded, indignantly.
"Ah, Patricia," he murmured, as he knelt beside her, "how can you hope to have a man ever talk to you in a sane57 fashion? You shouldn't have such eyes, Patricia! They are purple and fathomless58 like the ocean, and when a man looks into them too long his sanity59 grows weak, and sinks and drowns in their cool depths, and the man must babble60 out his foolish heart to you. Oh, but indeed, you shouldn't have such eyes, Patricia! They are dangerous, and to ask anybody to believe in their splendor61 is an insult to his intelligence, and besides, they are much too bright to wear in the morning. They are bad form, Patricia."
"We must be sensible," she babbled62. "Your wife is here; my husband is here. And we—we aren't children or madmen, Jack dear. So we really must be sensible, I suppose. Oh, Jack," she cried, upon a sudden; "this isn't honorable!"
"Why, no! Poor little Anne!"
Mr. Charteris's eyes grew tender for a moment, because his wife, in a fashion, was dear to him. Then he laughed, very musically.
"And how can a man remember honor, Patricia, when the choice lies between honor and you? You shouldn't have such hair, Patricia! It is a net spun63 out of the raw stuff of fire and blood and of portentous64 sunsets; and its tendrils have curled around what little honor I ever boasted, and they hold it fast, Patricia. It is dishonorable to love you, but I cannot think of that when I am with you and hear you speak. And when I am not with you, just to remember that dear voice is enough to set my pulses beating faster. Oh, Patricia, you shouldn't have such a voice!"
Charteris broke off in speech. "'Scuse me for interruptin'," the old mulattress Virginia was saying, "but Mis' Pilkins sen' me say lunch raydy, Miss Patrisy."
Virginia seemed to notice nothing out-of-the-way. Having delivered her message, she went away quietly, her pleasant yellow face as imperturbable65 as an idol's. But Patricia shivered.
"She frightens me, mon ami. Yes, that old woman always gives me gooseflesh, and I don't know why—because she is as deaf as a post—and I simply can't get rid of her. She is a sort of symbol—she, and how many others, I wonder!… Oh, well, let's hurry."
So Mr. Charteris was never permitted to finish his complaint against
Patricia's voice.
It was absolutely imperative66 they should be on time for luncheon; for, as Patricia pointed out, the majority of people are censorious and lose no opportunity for saying nasty things. They are even capable of sneering67 at a purely platonic friendship which is attempting to preserve the beautiful old Greek spirit.
* * * * *
She was chattering68 either of her plans for the autumn, or of Dante and the discovery of his missing cantos, or else of how abominably69 Bob Townsend had treated Rosalind Jemmett, and they had almost reached the upper terrace—little Roger, indeed, his red head blazing in the sunlight, was already sidling by shy instalments toward them—when Patricia moaned inconsequently and for no ascertainable70 cause fainted.
It was the first time for four years she had been guilty of such an indiscretion, she was shortly afterward71 explaining to various members of the Musgraves' house-party. It was the heat, no doubt. But since everybody insisted upon it, she would very willingly toast them in another bumper72 of aromatic73 spirits of ammonia.
"Just look at that, Rudolph! you've spilt it all over your coat sleeve. I do wish you would try to be a little less clumsy. Oh, well, I'm spruce as a new penny now. So let's all go to luncheon."
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1
boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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conspiring
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| 密谋( conspire的现在分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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platonic
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| adj.精神的；柏拉图（哲学）的 | |
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plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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impractical
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| adj.不现实的，不实用的，不切实际的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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dissented
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| 不同意，持异议( dissent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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antidote
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| n.解毒药，解毒剂 | |
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palatable
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| adj.可口的，美味的；惬意的 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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antiquities
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| n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 )；古迹；古人们；古代的风俗习惯 | |
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30
dividends
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| 红利( dividend的名词复数 )； 股息； 被除数； （足球彩票的）彩金 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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cryptically
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crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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philistines
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| n.市侩，庸人( philistine的名词复数 )；庸夫俗子 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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41
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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42
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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45
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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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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47
waive
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| vt.放弃，不坚持(规定、要求、权力等) | |
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48
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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gall
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| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
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poignantly
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52
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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53
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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galls
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| v.使…擦痛( gall的第三人称单数 )；擦伤；烦扰；侮辱 | |
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56
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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fathomless
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| a.深不可测的 | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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60
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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babbled
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| 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 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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68
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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69
abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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70
ascertainable
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| adj.可确定（探知），可发现的 | |
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71
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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72
bumper
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| n.(汽车上的)保险杠；adj.特大的，丰盛的 | |
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aromatic
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| adj.芳香的，有香味的 | |
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