It was close upon midnight, and in the big parlour at Sheba the courant, having run through its normal stages of high punctilio, artificial ease, zest1, profuse2 perspiration3, and supper, had reached the exact point when Modesty4 Prowse could be surprised under the kissing-bush, and Old Zeb wiped his spectacles, thrust his chair back, and pushed out his elbows to make sure of room for the rendering5 of “Scarlet’s my Colour.” These were tokens to be trusted by an observer who might go astray in taking any chance guest as a standard of the average conviviality7. Mr. and Mrs. Jim Lewarne, for example, were accustomed on such occasions to represent the van and rear-guard respectively in the march of gaiety; and in this instance Jim had already imbibed8 too much hot “shenachrum,” while his wife, still in the stage of artificial ease, and wearing a lace cap, which was none the less dignified9 for having been smuggled10, was perpending what to say when she should get him home. The dancers, pale and dusty, leant back in rows against the wall, and with their handkerchiefs went through the motions of fanning or polishing, according to sex. In their midst circulated Farmer Tresidder, with a three-handled mug of shenachrum, hot from the embers, and furred with wood-ash.
“Take an’ drink, thirsty souls. Niver do I mind the Letterpooch so footed i’ my born days.”
“’Twas conspirator—very conspirator,” assented11 Old Zeb, screwing up his A string a trifle, and turning con6 spirito into a dark saying.
“What’s that?”
“Greek for elbow-grease. Phew!” He rubbed his fore-finger round between neck and shirt-collar. “I be vady as the inside of a winder.”
“Such a man as you be to sweat, crowder!” exclaimed Calvin Oke. “Set you to play six-eight time an’ ’tis beads12 right away.”
“A slice o’ saffern-cake, crowder, to stay ye. Don’t say no. Hi, Mary Jane!”
“Thank ‘ee, Farmer. A man might say you was in sperrits to-night, makin’ so bold.”
“I be; I be.”
“Might a man ax wherefore, beyond the nat’ral hail-fellow-well-met of the season?”
“You may, an’ yet you mayn’t,” answered the host, passing on with the mug.
“Uncle Issy,” asked Jim Lewarne, lurching up, “I durstn’ g-glint over my shoulder—but wud ‘ee mind tellin’ me if th’ old woman’s lookin’ this way—afore I squench my thirst?”
“Iss, she be.”
Jim groaned13. “Then wud ‘ee mind a-hofferin’ me a taste out o’ your pannikin? an’ I’ll make b’lieve to say ‘Norronany’ count.’ Amazin’ ‘ot t’ night,” he added, tilting14 back on his heels, and then dipping forward with a vague smile.
Uncle Issy did as he was required, and the henpecked one played his part of the comedy with elaborate slyness. “I don’t like that strange chap,” he announced, irrelevantly15.
“Nor I nuther,” agreed Elias Sweetland, “tho’ to be sure, I’ve a-kept my eye ‘pon en, an’ the wonders he accomplishes in an old pair o’ Tresidder’s high-lows must be seen to be believed. But that’s no call for Ruby16’s dancin’ wi’ he a’most so much as wi’ her proper man.”
“The gel’s takin’ her fling afore wedlock17. I heard Sarah Ann Nanjulian, just now, sayin’ she ought to be clawed.”
“A jealous woman is a scourge19 shaken to an’ fro,” said Old Zeb; “but I’ve a mind, friends, to strike up ‘Randy my dandy,’ for that son o’ mine is lookin’ blacker than the horned man, an’ may be ’twill comfort ‘en to dance afore the public eye; for there’s none can take his wind in a hornpipe.”
In fact, it was high time that somebody comforted Young Zeb, for his heart was hot. He had brought home the chest of drawers in his cart, and spent an hour fixing on the best position for it in the bedroom, before dressing20 for the dance. Also he had purchased, in Mr. Pennyway’s shop, an armchair, in the worst taste, to be a pleasant surprise for Ruby when the happy day came for installing her. Finding he had still twenty minutes to spare after giving the last twitch21 to his neckerchief, and the last brush to his anointed locks, he had sat down facing this chair, and had striven to imagine her in it, darning his stockings. Zeb was not, as a rule, imaginative, but love drew this delicious picture for him. He picked up his hat, and set out for Sheba in the best of tempers.
But at Sheba all had gone badly. Ruby’s frock of white muslin and Ruby’s small sandal shoes were bewitching, but Ruby’s mood passed his intelligence. It was true she gave him half the dances, but then she gave the other half to that accursed stranger, and the stranger had all her smiles, which was carrying hospitality too far. Not a word had she uttered to Zeb beyond the merest commonplaces; on the purchase of the chest of drawers she had breathed no question; she hung listlessly on his arm, and spoke22 only of the music, the other girls’ frocks, the arrangement of the supper-table. And at supper the stranger had not only sat on the other side of her, but had talked all the time, and on books, a subject entirely23 uninteresting to Zeb. Worst of all, Ruby had listened. No; the worst of all was a remark of Modesty Prowse’s that he chanced to overhear afterwards.
So when the fiddles24 struck up the air of “Randy my dandy,” Zeb, knowing that the company would call upon him, at first felt his heart turn sick with loathing25. He glanced across the room at Ruby, who, with heightened colour, was listening to the stranger, and looking up at his handsome face. Already one or two voices were calling “Zeb!” “Young Zeb for a hornpipe!” “Now then, Young Zeb!”
He had a mind to refuse. For years after he remembered every small detail of the room as he looked down it and then across to Ruby again: the motion of the fiddle-bows; the variegated26 dresses of the women; the kissing-bush that some tall dancer’s head had set swaying from the low rafter; the light of a sconce gleaming on Tresidder’s bald scalp. Years after, he could recall the exact poise27 of Ruby’s head as she answered some question of her companion. The stranger left her, and strolled slowly down the room to the fireplace, when he faced round, throwing an arm negligently28 along the mantel-shelf, and leant with legs crossed, waiting.
Then Young Zeb made up his mind, and stepped out into the middle of the floor. The musicians were sawing with might and main at high speed. He crossed his arms, and, fixing his eyes on the stranger’s, began the hornpipe.
When it ceased, he had danced his best. It was only when the applause broke out that he knew he had fastened, from start to finish, on the man by the fireplace a pair of eyes blazing with hate. The other had stared back quietly, as if he noted29 only the performance. As the music ended sharply with the click of Young Zeb’s two heels, the stranger bent30, took up a pair of tongs31, and rearranged the fire before lifting his head.
“Yes,” he said, slowly, but in tones that were extremely distinct as the clapping died away, “that was wonderfully danced. In some ways I should almost say you were inspired. A slight want of airiness in the double-shuffle, perhaps—”
“Could you do’t better?” asked Zeb, sulkily.
“That isn’t the fair way to treat criticism, my friend; but yes—oh, yes, certainly I could do it better—in your shoes.”
“Then try, i’ my shoes.” And Zeb kicked them off.
“I’ve a notion they’ll fit me,” was all the stranger answered, dropping on one knee and beginning to unfasten the cumbrous boots he had borrowed of Farmer Tresidder.
Indeed, the curious likeness32 in build of these two men—a likeness accentuated33, rather than slurred34, by their contrast in colour and face, was now seen to extend even to their feet. When the stranger stood up at length in Zeb’s shoes, they fitted him to a nicety, the broad steel buckles35 lying comfortably over the instep, the back of the uppers closing round the hollow of his ankle like a skin.
Young Zeb, by this, had crossed shoeless to the fireplace, and now stood in the position lately occupied by his rival: only, whereas the stranger had lolled easily, Zeb stood squarely, with his legs wide apart and his hands deep in his pockets. He had no eyes for the intent faces around, no ears for their whispering, nor for the preliminary scrape of the instruments; but stood like an image, with the firelight flickering36 out between his calves37, and watched the other man grimly.
“Ready?” asked his father’s voice. “Then one—two—three, an’ let fly!”
The fiddle-bows hung for an instant on the first note, and in a twinkling scampered38 along into “Randy my dandy.” As the quick air caught at the listeners’ pulses, the stranger crossed his arms, drew his right heel up along the inner side of his left ankle, and with a light nod towards the chimney-place began.
To the casual eye there was for awhile little to choose between the two dancers, the stranger’s style being accurate, restrained, even a trifle dull. But of all the onlookers39, Zeb knew best what hornpipe-dancing really was; and knew surely, after the first dozen steps, that he was going to be mastered. So far, the performance was academic only. Zeb, unacquainted with the word, recognised the fact, and was quite aware of the inspiration—the personal gift—held in reserve to transfigure this precise art in a minute or so, and give it life. He saw the force gathering40 in the steady rhythmical41 twinkle of the steel buckles, and heard it speak in the light recurrent tap with which the stranger’s heels kissed the floor. It was doubly bitter that he and his enemy alone should know what was coming; trebly bitter that his enemy should be aware that he knew.
The crowder slackened speed for a second, to give warning, and dashed into the heel-and-toe. Zeb caught the light in the dancer’s eyes, and still frowning, drew a long breath.
“Faster,” nodded the stranger to the musicians’ corner.
Then came the moment for which, by this time, Zeb was longing42. The stranger rested with heels together while a man might count eight rapidly, and suddenly began a step the like of which none present had ever witnessed, Above the hips43 his body swayed steadily44, softly, to the measure; his eyes never took their pleasant smile off Zeb’s face, but his feet—
The steel buckles had become two sparkling moths45, spinning, poising46, darting47. They no longer belonged to the man, but had taken separate life: and merely the absolute symmetry of their loops and circles, and the click-click-click on boards, regular as ever, told of the art that informed them.
“Faster!”
They crossed and recrossed now like small flashes of lightning, or as if the boards were flints giving out a score of sparks at every touch of the man’s heel.
“Faster!”
They seemed suddenly to catch the light out of every sconce, and knead it into a ball of fire, that spun48 and yet was motionless, in the very middle of the floor, while all the rest of the room grew suddenly dimmed.
Zeb with a gasp49 drew his eyes away for a second and glanced around. Fiddlers and guests seemed ghostly after the fierce light he had been gazing on. He looked along the pale faces to the place where Ruby stood. She, too, glanced up, and their eyes met.
What he saw fetched a sob50 from his throat. Then something on the floor caught his attention: something bright, close by his feet.
Between his out-spread legs, as it seemed, a thin streak51 of silver was creeping along the flooring. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again.
He was straddling across a stream of molten metal.
As Zeb caught sight of this, the stranger twirled, leapt a foot in the air, and came down smartly on the final note, with a click of his heels. The music ceased abruptly52.
A storm of clapping broke out, but stopped almost on the instant: for the stranger had flung an arm out towards the hearth-stone.
“A mine—a mine!”
The white streak ran hissing53 from the heart of the fire, where a clod of earth rested among the ashen54 sticks.
“Witchcraft!” muttered one or two of the guests, peering forward with round eyes.
“Fiddlestick-end! I put the clod there myself. ’Tis lead!”
“Lead?”
“Ay, naybours all,” broke in Farmer Tresidder, his bald head bedewed with sweat, “I don’t want to abash56 ‘ee, Lord knows; but ’tis trew as doom57 that I be a passing well-to-do chap. I shudn’ wonder now”—and here he embraced the company with a smile, half pompous58 and half timid— “I shudn’ wonder if ye was to see me trottin’ to Parlyment House in a gilded59 coach afore Michaelmas—I be so tremenjous rich, by all accounts.”
“You’ll excoose my sayin’ it, Farmer,” spoke up Old Zeb out of the awed18 silence that followed, “for doubtless I may be thick o’ hearin’, but did I, or did I not, catch ‘ee alludin’ to a windfall o’ wealth?”
“You did.”
“You’ll excoose me sayin’ it, Farmer; but was it soberly or pleasantly, honest creed60 or light lips, down-right or random61, ‘out o’ the heart the mouth speaketh’ or wantonly and in round figgers, as it might happen to a man filled with meat and wine?”
“’Twas the cold trewth.”
“By what slice o’ fortune?”
“By a mine, as you might put it: or, as between man an’ man, by a mine o’ lead.”
“Farmer, you’re either a born liar62 or the darlin’ o’ luck.”
“Aye: I feel it. I feel that overpowerin’ly.”
“For my part,” put in Mrs. Jim Lewarne, “I’ve given over follerin’ the freaks o’ Fortune. They be so very undiscernin’.”
And this sentence probably summed up the opinion of the majority.
In the midst of the excitement Young Zeb strode up to the stranger, who stood a little behind the throng63.
“Give me back my shoes,” he said.
The other kicked them off and looked at him oddly.
“With pleasure. You’ll find them a bit worn, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll chance that. Man, I’m not all sorry, either.”
“Hey, why?”
“‘Cause they’ll not be worn agen, arter this night. Gentleman or devil, whichever you may be, I bain’t fit to dance i’ the same parish with ‘ee—no, nor to tread the shoeleather you’ve worn.”
“By the powers!” cried the stranger suddenly, “two minutes ago I’d have agreed with you. But, looking in your eyes, I’m not so sure of it.”
“Of what?”
“That you won’t wear the shoes again.”
Then Zeb went after Ruby.
“I want to speak a word with ‘ee,” he said quietly, stepping up to her.
“Where?”
“I’ the hall.”
“But I can’t come, just now.”
“But you must.”
She followed him out.
“Zeb, what’s the matter with you?”
“Look here”—and he faced round sharply—“I loved you passing well.”
“Well?” she asked, like a faint echo.
“I saw your eyes, just now. Don’t lie.”
“I won’t.”
“That’s right. And now listen: if you marry me, I’ll treat ‘ee like a span’el dog. Fetch you shall, an’ carry, for my pleasure. You shall be slave, an’ I your taskmaster; an’ the sweetness o’ your love shall come by crushin’, like trodden thyme. Shall I suit you?”
“I don’t think you will.”
“Then good-night to you.”
“Good-night, Zeb. I don’t fancy you’ll suit me; but I’m not so sure as before you began to speak.”.
There was no answer to this but the slamming of the front door.
At half-past seven that morning, Parson Babbage, who had risen early, after his wont64, was standing65 on the Vicarage doorstep to respire the first breath of the pale day, when he heard the garden gate unlatched and saw Young Zeb coming up the path.
The young man still wore his festival dress; but his best stockings and buckled66 shoes were stained and splashed, as from much walking in miry ways. Also he came unsteadily, and his face was white as ashes. The parson stared and asked—
“Young Zeb, have you been drinking?”
“No.”
“Then ’tis trouble, my son, an’ I ask your pardon.”
“A man might call it so. I’m come to forbid my banns.”
The elder man cocked his head on one side, much as a thrush contemplates67 a worm.
“I smell a wise wit, somewhere. Young man, who taught you so capital a notion?”
“Ruby did.”
“Pack o’ stuff! Ruby hadn’t the—stop a minute! ’twas that clever fellow you fetched ashore68, on Monday. Of course—of course! How came it to slip my mind?”
Young Zeb turned away; but the old man was after him, quick as thought, and had laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Is it bitter, my son?”
“It is bitter as death, Pa’son.”
“My poor lad. Step in an’ break your fast with me—poor lad, poor lad! Nay55, but you shall. There’s a bitch pup i’ the stables that I want your judgment69 on. Bitter, eh? I dessay. I dessay. I’m thinking of walking her—lemon spot on the left ear—Rattler strain, of course. Dear me, this makes six generations I can count back that spot—an’ game every one. Step in, poor lad, step in: she’s a picture.”
收听单词发音 |
1
zest
|
|
| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
profuse
|
|
| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
perspiration
|
|
| n.汗水；出汗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
modesty
|
|
| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
rendering
|
|
| n.表现，描写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
con
|
|
| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
conviviality
|
|
| n.欢宴，高兴，欢乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
imbibed
|
|
| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
smuggled
|
|
| 水货 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
beads
|
|
| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
tilting
|
|
| 倾斜，倾卸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
irrelevantly
|
|
| adv.不恰当地，不合适地；不相关地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
ruby
|
|
| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
wedlock
|
|
| n.婚姻，已婚状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
awed
|
|
| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
scourge
|
|
| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
twitch
|
|
| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
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： |
|
|
|
|
23
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
fiddles
|
|
| n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 )；欺诈；（需要运用手指功夫的）细巧活动；当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
loathing
|
|
| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
variegated
|
|
| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
poise
|
|
| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
negligently
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
tongs
|
|
| n.钳；夹子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
accentuated
|
|
| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
slurred
|
|
| 含糊地说出( slur的过去式和过去分词 )； 含糊地发…的声； 侮辱； 连唱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
buckles
|
|
| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
flickering
|
|
| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
calves
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
scampered
|
|
| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
onlookers
|
|
| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
rhythmical
|
|
| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
hips
|
|
| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
moths
|
|
| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
poising
|
|
| 使平衡( poise的现在分词 )； 保持（某种姿势）； 抓紧； 使稳定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
darting
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
spun
|
|
| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
sob
|
|
| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
streak
|
|
| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
hissing
|
|
| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
ashen
|
|
| adj.灰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
nay
|
|
| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
abash
|
|
| v.使窘迫，使局促不安 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
doom
|
|
| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
gilded
|
|
| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
creed
|
|
| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
liar
|
|
| n.说谎的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
throng
|
|
| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
buckled
|
|
| a. 有带扣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
contemplates
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的第三人称单数 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |