One day in the course of the following June there was ushered1 into my studio a gentleman whom I had not yet seen but with whom I had been very briefly2 in correspondence. A letter from him had expressed to me some days before his regret on learning that my “splendid portrait” of Titras Flora3 Louisa Saunt, whose full name figured by her own wish in the catalogue of the exhibition of the Academy, had found a purchaser before the close of the private view. He took the liberty of inquiring whether I might have at his service some other memorial of the same lovely head, some preliminary sketch4, some study for the picture. I had replied that I had indeed painted Miss Saunt more than once and that if he were interested in my work I should be happy to show him what I had done. Mr. Geoffrey Dawling, the person thus introduced to me, stumbled into my room with awkward movements and equivocal sounds — a long, lean, confused, confusing young man, with a bad complexion5 and large, protrusive6 teeth. He bore in its most indelible pressure the postmark, as it were, of Oxford7, and as soon as he opened his mouth I perceived, in addition to a remarkable8 revelation of gums, that the text of the queer communication matched the registered envelope. He was full of refinements9 and angles, of dreary10 and distinguished11 knowledge. Of his unconscious drollery12 his dress freely partook; it seemed, from the gold ring into which his red necktie was passed to the square toe-caps of his boots, to conform with a high sense of modernness to the fashion before the last. There were moments when his overdone13 urbanity, all suggestive stammers14 and interrogative quavers, made him scarcely intelligible15; but I felt him to be a gentleman and I liked the honesty of his errand and the expression of his good green eyes.
As a worshipper at the shrine16 of beauty however he needed explaining, especially when I found he had no acquaintance with my brilliant model; had on the mere17 evidence of my picture taken, as he said, a tremendous fancy to her face. I ought doubtless to have been humiliated18 by the simplicity19 of his judgment20 of it, a judgment for which the rendering21 was lost in the subject, quite leaving out the element of art. He was like the innocent reader for whom the story is “really true” and the author a negligible quantity. He had come to me only because he wanted to purchase, and I remember being so amused at his attitude, which I had never seen equally marked in a person of education, that I asked him why, for the sort of enjoyment22 he desired, it wouldn’t be more to the point to deal directly with the lady. He stared and blushed at this: it was plain the idea frightened him. He was an extraordinary case — personally so modest that I could see it had never occurred to him. He had fallen in love with a painted sign and seemed content just to dream of what it stood for. He was the young prince in the legend or the comedy who loses his heart to the miniature of the out-land princess. Until I knew him better this puzzled me much — the link was so missing between his sensibility and his type. He was of course bewildered by my sketches23, which implied in the beholder24 some sense of intention and quality; but for one of them, a comparative failure, he ended by conceiving a preference so arbitrary and so lively that, taking no second look at the others, he expressed the wish to possess it and fell into the extremity25 of confusion over the question of the price. I simplified that problem, and he went off without having asked me a direct question about Miss Saunt, yet with his acquisition under his arm. His delicacy26 was such that he evidently considered his rights to be limited; he had acquired none at all in regard to the original of the picture. There were others — for I was curious about him — that I wanted him to feel I conceded: I should have been glad of his carrying away a sense of ground acquired for coming back. To insure this I had probably only to invite him, and I perfectly27 recall the impulse that made me forbear. It operated suddenly from within while he hung about the door and in spite of the diffident appeal that blinked in his gentle grin. If he was smitten28 with Flora’s ghost what mightn’t be the direct force of the luminary29 that could cast such a shadow? This source of radiance, flooding my poor place, might very well happen to be present the next time he should turn up. The idea was sharp within me that there were complications it was no mission of mine to bring about. If they were to occur they might occur by a logic30 of their own.
Let me say at once that they did occur and that I perhaps after all had something to do with it. If Mr. Dawling had departed without a fresh appointment he was to reappear six months later under protection no less adequate than that of our young lady herself. I had seen her repeatedly for months: she had grown to regard my studio as the tabernacle of her face. This prodigy31 was frankly32 there the sole object of interest; in other places there were occasionally other objects. The freedom of her manners continued to be stupefying; there was nothing so extraordinary save the absence in connection with it of any catastrophe33. She was kept innocent by her egotism, but she was helped also, though she had now put off her mourning, by the attitude of the lone34 orphan35 who had to be a law unto herself. It was as a lone orphan that she came and went, as a lone orphan that she was the centre of a crush. The neglect of the Hammond Synges gave relief to this character, and she paid them handsomely to be, as every one said, shocking. Lord Iffield had gone to India to shoot tigers, but he returned in time for the private view: it was he who had snapped up, as Flora called it, the gem36 of the exhibition.
My hope for the girl’s future had slipped ignominiously37 off his back, but after his purchase of the portrait I tried to cultivate a new faith. The girl’s own faith was wonderful. It couldn’t however be contagious38: too great was the limit of her sense of what painters call values. Her colours were laid on like blankets on a cold night. How indeed could a person speak the truth who was always posturing39 and bragging40? She was after all vulgar enough, and by the time I had mastered her profile and could almost with my eyes shut do it in a single line I was decidedly tired of her perfection. There grew to be something silly in its eternal smoothness. One moved with her moreover among phenomena41 mismated and unrelated; nothing in her talk ever matched with anything out of it. Lord Iffield was dying of love for her, but his family was leading him a life. His mother, horrid42 woman, had told some one that she would rather he should be swallowed by a tiger than marry a girl not absolutely one of themselves. He had given his young friend unmistakable signs, but he was lying low, gaining time: it was in his father’s power to be, both in personal and in pecuniary43 ways, excessively nasty to him. His father wouldn’t last for ever — quite the contrary; and he knew how thoroughly44, in spite of her youth, her beauty and the swarm45 of her admirers, some of them positively46 threatening in their passion, he could trust her to hold out. There were richer, cleverer men, there were greater personages too, but she liked her “little viscount” just as he was, and liked to think that, bullied47 and persecuted48, he had her there so luxuriously49 to rest upon. She came back to me with tale upon tale, and it all might be or mightn’t. I never met my pretty model in the world — she moved, it appeared, in exalted50 circles — and could only admire, in her wealth of illustration, the grandeur51 of her life and the freedom of her hand.
I had on the first opportunity spoken to her of Geoffrey Dawling, and she had listened to my story so far as she had the art of such patience, asking me indeed more questions about him than I could answer; then she had capped my anecdote52 with others much more striking, revelations of effects produced in the most extraordinary quarters: on people who had followed her into railway-carriages; guards and porters even who had literally53 stuck there; others who had spoken to her in shops and hung about her house-door; cabmen, upon her honour, in London, who, to gaze their fill at her, had found excuses to thrust their petrifaction54 through the very glasses of four-wheelers. She lost herself in these reminiscences, the moral of which was that poor Mr. Dawling was only one of a million. When therefore the next autumn she flourished into my studio with her odd companion at her heels her first care was to make clear to me that if he was now in servitude it wasn’t because she had run after him. Dawling hilariously55 explained that when one wished very much to get anything one usually ended by doing so — a proposition which led me wholly to dissent56 and our young lady to asseverate57 that she hadn’t in the least wished to get Mr. Dawling. She mightn’t have wished to get him, but she wished to show him, and I seemed to read that if she could treat him as a trophy58 her affairs were rather at the ebb59. True there always hung from her belt a promiscuous60 fringe of scalps. Much at any rate would have come and gone since our separation in July. She had spent four months abroad, where, on Swiss and Italian lakes, in German cities, in Paris, many accidents might have happened.
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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protrusive
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| adj.伸出的，突出的 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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refinements
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| n.（生活）风雅；精炼( refinement的名词复数 )；改良品；细微的改良；优雅或高贵的动作 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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drollery
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| n.开玩笑，说笑话；滑稽可笑的图画（或故事、小戏等） | |
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overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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stammers
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| n.口吃，结巴( stammer的名词复数 )v.结巴地说出( stammer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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beholder
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| n.观看者，旁观者 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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luminary
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| n.名人，天体 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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prodigy
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| n.惊人的事物，奇迹，神童，天才，预兆 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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ignominiously
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| adv.耻辱地，屈辱地，丢脸地 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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posturing
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| 做出某种姿势( posture的现在分词 ) | |
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bragging
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的现在分词 )；大话 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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45
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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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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bullied
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| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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50
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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51
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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52
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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54
petrifaction
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| n.石化，化石；吓呆；惊呆 | |
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hilariously
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56
dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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asseverate
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| v.断言 | |
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trophy
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| n.优胜旗，奖品，奖杯，战胜品，纪念品 | |
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59
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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promiscuous
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| adj.杂乱的，随便的 | |
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