In the dense1 sun-flooded noon of next day a spot in the sea before them resolved casually2 into a green-and-gray islet, apparently3 composed of a great granite4 cliff at its northern end which slanted5 south through a mile of vivid coppice and grass to a sandy beach melting lazily into the surf. When Ardita, reading in her favorite seat, came to the last page of The Revolt of the Angels, and slamming the book shut looked up and saw it, she gave a little cry of delight, and called to Carlyle, who was standing6 moodily7 by the rail.
“Is this it? Is this where you’re going?”
Carlyle shrugged8 his shoulders carelessly.
“You’ve got me.” He raised his voice and called up to the acting9 skipper: “Oh, Babe, is this your island?”
The mulatto’s miniature head appeared from round the corner of the deck-house.
“Yas-suh! This yeah’s it.”
Carlyle joined Ardita.
“Looks sort of sporting, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” she agreed; “but it doesn’t look big enough to be much of a hiding-place.”
“You still putting your faith in those wirelesses10 your uncle was going to have zigzagging11 round?”
“No,” said Ardita frankly12. “I’m all for you. I’d really like to see you make a get-away.”
He laughed.
“You’re our Lady Luck. Guess we’ll have to keep you with us as a mascot13 — for the present anyway.”
“You couldn’t very well ask me to swim back,” she said coolly. “If you do I’m going to start writing dime14 novels founded on that interminable history of your life you gave me last night.”
He flushed and stiffened15 slightly.
“I’m very sorry I bored you.”
“Oh, you didn’t — until just at the end with some story about how furious you were because you couldn’t dance with the ladies you played music for.”
He rose angrily.
“You have got a darn mean little tongue.”
“Excuse me,” she said melting into laughter, “but I’m not used to having men regale16 me with the story of their life ambitions — especially if they’ve lived such deathly platonic17 lives.”
“Why? What do men usually regale you with?”
“Oh, they talk about me,” she yawned. “They tell me I’m the spirit of youth and beauty.”
“What do you tell them?”
“Oh, I agree quietly.”
“Does every man you meet tell you he loves you?”
Ardita nodded.
“Why shouldn’t he? All life is just a progression toward, and then a recession from, one phrase —‘I love you.’”
Carlyle laughed and sat down.
“That’s very true. That’s — that’s not bad. Did you make that up?”
“Yes — or rather I found it out. It doesn’t mean anything especially. It’s just clever.”
“It’s the sort of remark,” he said gravely, “that’s typical of your class.”
“Oh,” she interrupted impatiently, “don’t start that lecture on aristocracy again! I distrust people who can be intense at this hour in the morning. It’s a mild form of insanity18 — a sort of breakfast-food jag. Morning’s the time to sleep, swim, and be careless.”
Ten minutes later they had swung round in a wide circle as if to approach the island from the north.
“There’s a trick somewhere,” commented Ardita thoughtfully. “He can’t mean just to anchor up against this cliff.”
They were heading straight in now toward the solid rock, which must have been well over a hundred feet tall, and not until they were within fifty yards of it did Ardita see their objective. Then she clapped her hands in delight. There was a break in the cliff entirely19 hidden by a curious overlapping20 of rock, and through this break the yacht entered and very slowly traversed a narrow channel of crystal-clear water between high gray walls. Then they were riding at anchor in a miniature world of green and gold, a gilded21 bay smooth as glass and set round with tiny palms, the whole resembling the mirror lakes and twig22 trees that children set up in sand piles.
“Not so darned bad!” cried Carlyle excitedly.
“I guess that little coon knows his way round this corner of the Atlantic.”
His exuberance23 was contagious24, and Ardita became quite jubilant.
“It’s an absolutely sure-fire hiding-place!”
“Lordy, yes! It’s the sort of island you read about.”
The rowboat was lowered into the golden lake and they pulled to shore.
“Come on,” said Carlyle as they landed in the slushy sand, “we’ll go exploring.”
The fringe of palms was in turn ringed in by a round mile of flat, sandy country. They followed it south and brushing through a farther rim25 of tropical vegetation came out on a pearl-gray virgin26 beach where Ardita kicked of her brown golf shoes — she seemed to have permanently27 abandoned stockings — and went wading28. Then they sauntered back to the yacht, where the indefatigable29 Babe had luncheon30 ready for them. He had posted a lookout31 on the high cliff to the north to watch the sea on both sides, though he doubted if the entrance to the cliff was generally known — he had never even seen a map on which the island was marked.
“What’s its name,” asked Ardita —“the island, I mean?”
“No name ‘tall,” chuckled32 Babe. “Reckin she jus’ island, ‘at’s all.”
In the late afternoon they sat with their backs against great boulders33 on the highest part of the cliff and Carlyle sketched34 for her his vague plans. He was sure they were hot after him by this time. The total proceeds of the coup35 he had pulled off and concerning which he still refused to enlighten her, he estimated as just under a million dollars. He counted on lying up here several weeks and then setting off southward, keeping well outside the usual channels of travel rounding the Horn and heading for Callao, in Peru. The details of coaling and provisioning he was leaving entirely to Babe who, it seemed, had sailed these seas in every capacity from cabin-boy aboard a coffee trader to virtual first mate on a Brazillian pirate craft, whose skipper had long since been hung.
“If he’d been white he’d have been king of South America long ago,” said Carlyle emphatically. “When it comes to intelligence he makes Booker T. Washington look like a moron36. He’s got the guile37 of every race and nationality whose blood is in his veins38, and that’s half a dozen or I’m a liar39. He worships me because I’m the only man in the world who can play better ragtime40 than he can. We used to sit together on the wharfs41 down on the New York water-front, he with a bassoon and me with an oboe, and we’d blend minor42 keys in African harmonics a thousand years old until the rats would crawl up the posts and sit round groaning43 and squeaking44 like dogs will in front of a phonograph.”
Ardita roared.
“How you can tell ’em!”
Carlyle grinned.
“I swear that’s the gos ——”
“What you going to do when you get to Callao?” she interrupted.
“Take ship for India. I want to be a rajah. I mean it. My idea is to go up into Afghanistan somewhere, buy up a palace and a reputation, and then after about five years appear in England with a foreign accent and a mysterious past. But India first. Do you know, they say that all the gold in the world drifts very gradually back to India. Something fascinating about that to me. And I want leisure to read — an immense amount.”
“How about after that?”
“Then,” he answered defiantly45, “comes aristocracy. Laugh if you want to — but at least you’ll have to admit that I know what I want — which I imagine is more than you do.”
“On the contrary,” contradicted Ardita, reaching in her pocket for her cigarette case, “when I met you I was in the midst of a great uproar46 of all my friends and relatives because I did know what I wanted.”
“What was it?”
“A man.”
He started.
“You mean you were engaged?”
“After a fashion. If you hadn’t come aboard I had every intention of slipping ashore47 yesterday evening — how long ago it seems — and meeting him in Palm Beach. He’s waiting there for me with a bracelet48 that once belonged to Catherine of Russia. Now don’t mutter anything about aristocracy,” she put in quickly. “I liked him simply because he had had an imagination and the utter courage of his convictions.”
“But your family disapproved49, eh?”
“What there is of it — only a silly uncle and a sillier aunt. It seems he got into some scandal with a red-haired woman name Mimi something — it was frightfully exaggerated, he said, and men don’t lie to me — and anyway I didn’t care what he’d done; it was the future that counted. And I’d see to that. When a man’s in love with me he doesn’t care for other amusements. I told him to drop her like a hot cake, and he did.”
“I feel rather jealous,” said Carlyle, frowning — and then he laughed. “I guess I’ll just keep you along with us until we get to Callao. Then I’ll lend you enough money to get back to the States. By that time you’ll have had a chance to think that gentleman over a little more.”
“Don’t talk to me like that!” fired up Ardita. “I won’t tolerate the parental50 attitude from anybody! Do you understand me?” He chuckled and then stopped, rather abashed51, as her cold anger seemed to fold him about and chill him.
“I’m sorry,” he offered uncertainly.
“Oh, don’t apologize! I can’t stand men who say ‘I’m sorry’ in that manly52, reserved tone. Just shut up!”
A pause ensued, a pause which Carlyle found rather awkward, but which Ardita seemed not to notice at all as she sat contentedly53 enjoying her cigarette and gazing out at the shining sea. After a minute she crawled out on the rock and lay with her face over the edge looking down. Carlyle, watching her, reflected how it seemed impossible for her to assume an ungraceful attitude.
“Oh, look,” she cried. “There’s a lot of sort of ledges54 down there. Wide ones of all different heights.”
“We’ll go swimming to-night!” she said excitedly. “By moonlight.”
“Wouldn’t you rather go in at the beach on the other end?”
“Not a chance. I like to dive. You can use my uncle’s bathing suit, only it’ll fit you like a gunny sack, because he’s a very flabby man. I’ve got a one-piece that’s shocked the natives all along the Atlantic coast from Biddeford Pool to St. Augustine.”
“I suppose you’re a shark.”
“Yes, I’m pretty good. And I look cute too. A sculptor55 up at Rye last summer told me my calves56 are worth five hundred dollars.”
There didn’t seem to be any answer to this, so Carlyle was silent, permitting himself only a discreet57 interior smile.
收听单词发音 |
1
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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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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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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wirelesses
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| n.无线电，收音机( wireless的名词复数 )；无线电接收机或发射机 | |
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zigzagging
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| v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的现在分词 )；盘陀 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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mascot
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| n.福神，吉祥的东西 | |
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dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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platonic
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| adj.精神的；柏拉图（哲学）的 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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overlapping
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| adj./n.交迭（的） | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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exuberance
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| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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32
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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coup
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| n.政变；突然而成功的行动 | |
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moron
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| n.极蠢之人，低能儿 | |
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guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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ragtime
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| n.拉格泰姆音乐 | |
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wharfs
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| 码头，停泊处 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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squeaking
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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parental
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| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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51
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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ledges
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| n.（墙壁，悬崖等）突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 )；（平窄的）壁架；横档；（尤指）窗台 | |
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55
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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56
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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57
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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