Exactly when the ball began Leila would have found it hard to say. Perhaps her first real partner was the cab. It did not matter that she shared the cab with the Sheridan girls and their brother. She sat back in her own little corner of it, and the bolster1 on which her hand rested felt like the sleeve of an unknown young man’s dress suit; and away they bowled, past waltzing lamp-posts and houses and fences and trees.
“Have you really never been to a ball before, Leila? But, my child, how too weird2 —” cried the Sheridan girls.
“Our nearest neighbour was fifteen miles,” said Leila softly, gently opening and shutting her fan.
Oh dear, how hard it was to be indifferent like the others! She tried not to smile too much; she tried not to care. But every single thing was so new and exciting . . . Meg’s tuberoses, Jose’s long loop of amber3, Laura’s little dark head, pushing above her white fur like a flower through snow. She would remember for ever. It even gave her a pang4 to see her cousin Laurie throw away the wisps of tissue paper he pulled from the fastenings of his new gloves. She would like to have kept those wisps as a keepsake, as a remembrance. Laurie leaned forward and put his hand on Laura’s knee.
“Look here, darling,” he said. “The third and the ninth as usual. Twig5?”
Oh, how marvellous to have a brother! In her excitement Leila felt that if there had been time, if it hadn’t been impossible, she couldn’t have helped crying because she was an only child, and no brother had ever said “Twig?” to her; no sister would ever say, as Meg said to Jose that moment, “I’ve never known your hair go up more successfully than it has to-night!”
But, of course, there was no time. They were at the drill hall already; there were cabs in front of them and cabs behind. The road was bright on either side with moving fan-like lights, and on the pavement gay couples seemed to float through the air; little satin shoes chased each other like birds.
“Hold on to me, Leila; you’ll get lost,” said Laura.
“Come on, girls, let’s make a dash for it,” said Laurie.
Leila put two fingers on Laura’s pink velvet6 cloak, and they were somehow lifted past the big golden lantern, carried along the passage, and pushed into the little room marked “Ladies.” Here the crowd was so great there was hardly space to take off their things; the noise was deafening7. Two benches on either side were stacked high with wraps. Two old women in white aprons8 ran up and down tossing fresh armfuls. And everybody was pressing forward trying to get at the little dressing9-table and mirror at the far end.
A great quivering jet of gas lighted the ladies’ room. It couldn’t wait; it was dancing already. When the door opened again and there came a burst of tuning10 from the drill hall, it leaped almost to the ceiling.
Dark girls, fair girls were patting their hair, tying ribbons again, tucking handkerchiefs down the fronts of their bodices, smoothing marble-white gloves. And because they were all laughing it seemed to Leila that they were all lovely.
“Aren’t there any invisible hair-pins?” cried a voice. “How most extraordinary! I can’t see a single invisible hair-pin.”
“Powder my back, there’s a darling,” cried some one else.
“But I must have a needle and cotton. I’ve torn simply miles and miles of the frill,” wailed11 a third.
Then, “Pass them along, pass them along!” The straw basket of programmes was tossed from arm to arm. Darling little pink-and-silver programmes, with pink pencils and fluffy12 tassels13. Leila’s fingers shook as she took one out of the basket. She wanted to ask some one, “Am I meant to have one too?” but she had just time to read: “Waltz 3. ‘Two, Two in a Canoe.’ Polka 4. ‘Making the Feathers Fly,’” when Meg cried, “Ready, Leila?” and they pressed their way through the crush in the passage towards the big double doors of the drill hall.
Dancing had not begun yet, but the band had stopped tuning, and the noise was so great it seemed that when it did begin to play it would never be heard. Leila, pressing close to Meg, looking over Meg’s shoulder, felt that even the little quivering coloured flags strung across the ceiling were talking. She quite forgot to be shy; she forgot how in the middle of dressing she had sat down on the bed with one shoe off and one shoe on and begged her mother to ring up her cousins and say she couldn’t go after all. And the rush of longing14 she had had to be sitting on the veranda15 of their forsaken16 up-country home, listening to the baby owls17 crying “More pork” in the moonlight, was changed to a rush of joy so sweet that it was hard to bear alone. She clutched her fan, and, gazing at the gleaming, golden floor, the azaleas, the lanterns, the stage at one end with its red carpet and gilt18 chairs and the band in a corner, she thought breathlessly, “How heavenly; how simply heavenly!”
All the girls stood grouped together at one side of the doors, the men at the other, and the chaperones in dark dresses, smiling rather foolishly, walked with little careful steps over the polished floor towards the stage.
“This is my little country cousin Leila. Be nice to her. Find her partners; she’s under my wing,” said Meg, going up to one girl after another.
Strange faces smiled at Leila — sweetly, vaguely19. Strange voices answered, “Of course, my dear.” But Leila felt the girls didn’t really see her. They were looking towards the men. Why didn’t the men begin? What were they waiting for? There they stood, smoothing their gloves, patting their glossy20 hair and smiling among themselves. Then, quite suddenly, as if they had only just made up their minds that that was what they had to do, the men came gliding21 over the parquet22. There was a joyful23 flutter among the girls. A tall, fair man flew up to Meg, seized her programme, scribbled24 something; Meg passed him on to Leila. “May I have the pleasure?” He ducked and smiled. There came a dark man wearing an eyeglass, then cousin Laurie with a friend, and Laura with a little freckled25 fellow whose tie was crooked26. Then quite an old man — fat, with a big bald patch on his head — took her programme and murmured, “Let me see, let me see!” And he was a long time comparing his programme, which looked black with names, with hers. It seemed to give him so much trouble that Leila was ashamed. “Oh, please don’t bother,” she said eagerly. But instead of replying the fat man wrote something, glanced at her again. “Do I remember this bright little face?” he said softly. “Is it known to me of yore?” At that moment the band began playing; the fat man disappeared. He was tossed away on a great wave of music that came flying over the gleaming floor, breaking the groups up into couples, scattering27 them, sending them spinning . . .
Leila had learned to dance at boarding school. Every Saturday afternoon the boarders were hurried off to a little corrugated28 iron mission hall where Miss Eccles (of London) held her “select” classes. But the difference between that dusty-smelling hall — with calico texts on the walls, the poor terrified little woman in a brown velvet toque with rabbit’s ears thumping29 the cold piano, Miss Eccles poking30 the girls’ feet with her long white wand — and this was so tremendous that Leila was sure if her partner didn’t come and she had to listen to that marvellous music and to watch the others sliding, gliding over the golden floor, she would die at least, or faint, or lift her arms and fly out of one of those dark windows that showed the stars.
“Ours, I think —” Some one bowed, smiled, and offered her his arm; she hadn’t to die after all. Some one’s hand pressed her waist, and she floated away like a flower that is tossed into a pool.
“Quite a good floor, isn’t it?” drawled a faint voice close to her ear.
“I think it’s most beautifully slippery,” said Leila.
“Pardon!” The faint voice sounded surprised. Leila said it again. And there was a tiny pause before the voice echoed, “Oh, quite!” and she was swung round again.
He steered31 so beautifully. That was the great difference between dancing with girls and men, Leila decided32. Girls banged into each other, and stamped on each other’s feet; the girl who was gentleman always clutched you so.
The azaleas were separate flowers no longer; they were pink and white flags streaming by.
“Were you at the Bells’ last week?” the voice came again. It sounded tired. Leila wondered whether she ought to ask him if he would like to stop.
“No, this is my first dance,” said she.
Her partner gave a little gasping33 laugh. “Oh, I say,” he protested.
“Yes, it is really the first dance I’ve ever been to.” Leila was most fervent34. It was such a relief to be able to tell somebody. “You see, I’ve lived in the country all my life up till now . . . ”
At that moment the music stopped, and they went to sit on two chairs against the wall. Leila tucked her pink satin feet under and fanned herself, while she blissfully watched the other couples passing and disappearing through the swing doors.
“Enjoying yourself, Leila?” asked Jose, nodding her golden head.
Laura passed and gave her the faintest little wink35; it made Leila wonder for a moment whether she was quite grown up after all. Certainly her partner did not say very much. He coughed, tucked his handkerchief away, pulled down his waistcoat, took a minute thread off his sleeve. But it didn’t matter. Almost immediately the band started and her second partner seemed to spring from the ceiling.
“Floor’s not bad,” said the new voice. Did one always begin with the floor? And then, “Were you at the Neaves’ on Tuesday?” And again Leila explained. Perhaps it was a little strange that her partners were not more interested. For it was thrilling. Her first ball! She was only at the beginning of everything. It seemed to her that she had never known what the night was like before. Up till now it had been dark, silent, beautiful very often — oh yes — but mournful somehow. Solemn. And now it would never be like that again — it had opened dazzling bright.
“Care for an ice?” said her partner. And they went through the swing doors, down the passage, to the supper room. Her cheeks burned, she was fearfully thirsty. How sweet the ices looked on little glass plates and how cold the frosted spoon was, iced too! And when they came back to the hall there was the fat man waiting for her by the door. It gave her quite a shock again to see how old he was; he ought to have been on the stage with the fathers and mothers. And when Leila compared him with her other partners he looked shabby. His waistcoat was creased36, there was a button off his glove, his coat looked as if it was dusty with French chalk.
“Come along, little lady,” said the fat man. He scarcely troubled to clasp her, and they moved away so gently, it was more like walking than dancing. But he said not a word about the floor. “Your first dance, isn’t it?” he murmured.
“How did you know?”
“Ah,” said the fat man, “that’s what it is to be old!” He wheezed37 faintly as he steered her past an awkward couple. “You see, I’ve been doing this kind of thing for the last thirty years.”
“Thirty years?” cried Leila. Twelve years before she was born!
“It hardly bears thinking about, does it?” said the fat man gloomily. Leila looked at his bald head, and she felt quite sorry for him.
“I think it’s marvellous to be still going on,” she said kindly38.
“Kind little lady,” said the fat man, and he pressed her a little closer, and hummed a bar of the waltz. “Of course,” he said, “you can’t hope to last anything like as long as that. No-o,” said the fat man, “long before that you’ll be sitting up there on the stage, looking on, in your nice black velvet. And these pretty arms will have turned into little short fat ones, and you’ll beat time with such a different kind of fan — a black bony one.” The fat man seemed to shudder39. “And you’ll smile away like the poor old dears up there, and point to your daughter, and tell the elderly lady next to you how some dreadful man tried to kiss her at the club ball. And your heart will ache, ache”— the fat man squeezed her closer still, as if he really was sorry for that poor heart —“because no one wants to kiss you now. And you’ll say how unpleasant these polished floors are to walk on, how dangerous they are. Eh, Mademoiselle Twinkletoes?” said the fat man softly.
Leila gave a light little laugh, but she did not feel like laughing. Was it — could it all be true? It sounded terribly true. Was this first ball only the beginning of her last ball, after all? At that the music seemed to change; it sounded sad, sad; it rose upon a great sigh. Oh, how quickly things changed! Why didn’t happiness last for ever? For ever wasn’t a bit too long.
“I want to stop,” she said in a breathless voice. The fat man led her to the door.
“No,” she said, “I won’t go outside. I won’t sit down. I’ll just stand here, thank you.” She leaned against the wall, tapping with her foot, pulling up her gloves and trying to smile. But deep inside her a little girl threw her pinafore over her head and sobbed40. Why had he spoiled it all?
“I say, you know,” said the fat man, “you mustn’t take me seriously, little lady.”
“As if I should!” said Leila, tossing her small dark head and sucking her underlip . . .
Again the couples paraded. The swing doors opened and shut. Now new music was given out by the bandmaster. But Leila didn’t want to dance any more. She wanted to be home, or sitting on the veranda listening to those baby owls. When she looked through the dark windows at the stars, they had long beams like wings . . .
But presently a soft, melting, ravishing tune41 began, and a young man with curly hair bowed before her. She would have to dance, out of politeness, until she could find Meg. Very stiffly she walked into the middle; very haughtily42 she put her hand on his sleeve. But in one minute, in one turn, her feet glided43, glided. The lights, the azaleas, the dresses, the pink faces, the velvet chairs, all became one beautiful flying wheel. And when her next partner bumped her into the fat man and he said, “Pardon,” she smiled at him more radiantly than ever. She didn’t even recognise him again.
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1
bolster
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| n.枕垫；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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tuning
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| n.调谐，调整，调音v.调音( tune的现在分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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owls
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| n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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parquet
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| n.镶木地板 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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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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freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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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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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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wheezed
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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40
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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41
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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42
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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