Chapter 39 Lazy Laurence

Laurie went to Nice intending to stay a week, and remained a month. He was tired of wandering about alone, and Amy's familiar presence seemed to give a homelike charm to the foreign scenes in which she bore a part. He rather missed the 'petting' he used to receive, and enjoyed a taste of it again, for no attentions, however flattering, from strangers, were half so pleasant as the sisterly adoration of the girls at home. Amy never would pet him like the others, but she was very glad to see him now, and quite clung to him, feeling that he was the representative of the dear family for whom she longed more than she would confess. They naturally took comfort in each other's society and were much together, riding, walking, dancing, or dawdling, for at Nice no one can be very industrious during the gay season. But, while apparently amusing themselves in the most careless fashion, they were half-consciously making discoveries and forming opinions about each other. Amy rose daily in the estimation of her friend, but he sank in hers, and each felt the truth before a word was spoken. Amy tried to please, and succeeded, for she was grateful for the many pleasures he gave her, and repaid him with the little services to which womanly women know how to lend an indescribable charm. Laurie made no effort of any kind, but just let himself drift along as comfortably as possible, trying to forget, and feeling that all women owed him a kind word because one had been cold to him. It cost him no effort to be generous, and he would have given Amy all the trinkets in Nice if she would have taken them, but at the same time he felt that he could not change the opinion she was forming of him, and he rather dreaded the keen blue eyes that seemed to watch him with such half-sorrowful, half-scornful surprise.

"All the rest have gone to Monaco for the day. I preferred to stay at home and write letters. They are done now, and I am going to Valrosa to sketch, will you come?" said Amy, as she joined Laurie one lovely day when he lounged in as usual, about noon.

"Well, yes, but isn't it rather warm for such a long walk?" he answered slowly, for the shaded salon looked inviting after the glare without.

"I'm going to have the little carriage, and Baptiste can drive, so you'll have nothing to do but hold your umbrella, and keep your gloves nice," returned Amy, with a sarcastic glance at the immaculate kids, which were a weak point with Laurie.

"Then I'll go with pleasure." and he put out his hand for her sketchbook. But she tucked it under her arm with a sharp . . .

"Don't trouble yourself. It's no exertion to me, but you don't look equal to it."

Laurie lifted his eyebrows and followed at a leisurely pace as she ran downstairs, but when they got into the carriage he took the reins himself, and left little Baptiste nothing to do but fold his arms and fall asleep on his perch.

The two never quarreled. Amy was too well-bred, and just now Laurie was too lazy, so in a minute he peeped under her hatbrim with an inquiring air. She answered him with a smile, and they went on together in the most amicable manner.

It was a lovely drive, along winding roads rich in the picturesque scenes that delight beauty-loving eyes. Here an ancient monastery, whence the solemn chanting of the monks came down to them. There a bare-legged shepherd, in wooden shoes, pointed hat, and rough jacket over one shoulder, sat piping on a stone while his goats skipped among the rocks or lay at his feet. Meek, mouse-colored donkeys, laden with panniers of freshly cut grass passed by, with a pretty girl in a capaline sitting between the green piles, or an old woman spinning with a distaff as she went. Brown, soft-eyed children ran out from the quaint stone hovels to offer nosegays, or bunches of oranges still on the bough. Gnarled olive trees covered the hills with their dusky foliage, fruit hung golden in the orchard, and great scarlet anemones fringed the roadside, while beyond green slopes and craggy heights, the Maritime Alps rose sharp and white against the blue Italian sky.

Valrosa well deserved its name, for in that climate of perpetual summer roses blossomed everywhere. They overhung the archway, thrust themselves between the bars of the great gate with a sweet welcome to passers-by, and lined the avenue, winding through lemon trees and feathery palms up to the villa on the hill. Every shadowy nook, where seats invited one to stop and rest, was a mass of bloom, every cool grotto had its marble nymph smiling from a veil of flowers and every fountain reflected crimson, white, or pale pink roses, leaning down to smile at their own beauty. Roses covered the walls of the house, draped the cornices, climbed the pillars, and ran riot over the balustrade of the wide terrace, whence one looked down on the sunny Mediterranean, and the white-walled city on its shore.

"This is a regular honeymoon paradise, isn't it? Did you ever see such roses?" asked Amy, pausing on the terrace to enjoy the view, and a luxurious whiff of perfume that came wandering by.

"No, nor felt such thorns," returned Laurie, with his thumb in his mouth, after a vain attempt to capture a solitary scarlet flower that grew just beyond his reach.

"Try lower down, and pick those that have no thorns," said Amy, gathering three of the tiny cream-colored ones that starred the wall behind her. She put them in his buttonhole as a peace offering, and he stood a minute looking down at them with a curious expression, for in the Italian part of his nature there was a touch of superstition, and he was just then in that state of half-sweet, half-bitter melancholy, when imaginative young men find significance in trifles and food for romance everywhere. He had thought of Jo in reaching after the thorny red rose, for vivid flowers became her, and she had often worn ones like that from the greenhouse at home. The pale roses Amy gave him were the sort that the Italians lay in dead hands, never in bridal wreaths, and for a moment he wondered if the omen was for Jo or for himself, but the next instant his American common sense got the better of sentimentality, and he laughed a heartier laugh than Amy had heard since he came.

"It's good advice, you'd better take it and save your fingers," she said, thinking her speech amused him.

"Thank you, I will," he answered in jest, and a few months later he did it in earnest.

"Laurie, when are you going to your grandfather?" she asked presently, as she settled herself on a rustic seat.

"Very soon."

"You have said that a dozen times within the last three weeks."

"I dare say, short answers save trouble."

"He expects you, and you really ought to go."

"Hospitable creature! I know it."

"Then why don't you do it?"

"Natural depravity, I suppose."

"Natural indolence, you mean. It's really dreadful!" and Amy looked severe.

"Not so bad as it seems, for I should only plague him if I went, so I might as well stay and plague you a little longer, you can bear it better, in fact I think it agrees with you excellently," and Laurie composed himself for a lounge on the broad ledge of the balustrade.

Amy shook her head and opened her sketchbook with an air of resignation, but she had made up her mind to lecture 'that boy' and in a minute she began again.

"What are you doing just now?"

"Watching lizards."

"No, no. I mean what do you intend and wish to do?"

"Smoke a cigarette, if you'll allow me."

"How provoking you are! I don't approve of cigars and I will only allow it on condition that you let me put you into my sketch. I need a figure."

"With all the pleasure in life. How will you have me, full length or three-quarters, on my head or my heels? I should respectfully suggest a recumbent posture, then put yourself in also and call it 'Dolce far niente'."

"Stay as you are, and go to sleep if you like. I intend to work hard," said Amy in her most energetic tone.

"What delightful enthusiasm!" and he leaned against a tall urn with an air of entire satisfaction.

"What would Jo say if she saw you now?" asked Amy impatiently, hoping to stir him up by the mention of her still more energetic sister's name.

"As usual, 'Go away, Teddy. I'm busy!'" He laughed as he spoke, but the laugh was not natural, and a shade passed over his face, for the utterance of the familiar name touched the wound that was not healed yet. Both tone and shadow struck Amy, for she had seen and heard them before, and now she looked up in time to catch a new expression on Laurie's face--a hard bitter look, full of pain, dissatisfaction, and regret. It was gone before she could study it and the listless expression back again. She watched him for a moment with artistic pleasure, thinking how like an Italian he looked, as he lay basking in the sun with uncovered head and eyes full of southern dreaminess, for he seemed to have forgotten her and fallen into a reverie.

"You look like the effigy of a young knight asleep on his tomb," she said, carefully tracing the well-cut profile defined against the dark stone.

"Wish I was!"

"That's a foolish wish, unless you have spoiled your life. You are so changed, I sometimes think--" there Amy stopped, with a half-timid, half-wistful look, more significant than her unfinished speech.

Laurie saw and understood the affectionate anxiety which she hesitated to express, and looking straight into her eyes, said, just as he used to say it to her mother, "It's all right, ma'am."

That satisfied her and set at rest the doubts that had begun to worry her lately. It also touched her, and she showed that it did, by the cordial tone in which she said . . .

"I'm glad of that! I didn't think you'd been a very bad boy, but I fancied you might have wasted money at that wicked Baden-Baden, lost your heart to some charming Frenchwoman with a husband, or got into some of the scrapes that young men seem to consider a necessary part of a foreign tour. Don't stay out there in the sun, come and lie on the grass here and 'let us be friendly', as Jo used to say when we got in the sofa corner and told secrets."

Laurie obediently threw himself down on the turf, and began to amuse himself by sticking daisies into the ribbons of Amy's hat, that lay there.

"I'm all ready for the secrets." and he glanced up with a decided expression of interest in his eyes.

"I've none to tell. You may begin."

"Haven't one to bless myself with. I thought perhaps you'd had some news from home.."

"You have heard all that has come lately. Don't you hear often? I fancied Jo would send you volumes."

"She's very busy. I'm roving about so, it's impossible to be regular, you know. When do you begin your great work of art, Raphaella?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly after another pause, in which he had been wondering if Amy knew his secret and wanted to talk about it.

"Never," she answered, with a despondent but decided air. "Rome took all the vanity out of me, for after seeing the wonders there, I felt too insignificant to live and gave up all my foolish hopes in despair."

"Why should you, with so much energy and talent?"

"That's just why, because talent isn't genius, and no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing. I won't be a common-place dauber, so I don't intend to try any more."

"And what are you going to do with yourself now, if I may ask?"

"Polish up my other talents, and be an ornament to society, if I get the chance."

It was a characteristic speech, and sounded daring, but audacity becomes young people, and Amy's ambition had a good foundation. Laurie smiled, but he liked the spirit with which she took up a new purpose when a long-cherished one died, and spent no time lamenting.

"Good! And here is where Fred Vaughn comes in, I fancy."

Amy preserved a discreet silence, but there was a conscious look in her downcast face that made Laurie sit up and say gravely, "Now I'm going to play brother, and ask questions. May I?"

"I don't promise to answer."

"Your face will, if your tongue won't. You aren't woman of the world enough yet to hide your feelings, my dear. I heard rumors about Fred and you last year, and it's my private opinion that if he had not been called home so suddenly and detained so long, something would have come of it, hey?"

"That's not for me to say," was Amy's grim reply, but her lips would smile, and there was a traitorous sparkle of the eye which betrayed that she knew her power and enjoyed the knowledge.

"You are not engaged, I hope?" and Laurie looked very elder-brotherly and grave all of a sudden.

"No."

"But you will be, if he comes back and goes properly down on his knees, won't you?"

"Very likely."

"Then you are fond of old Fred?"

"I could be, if I tried."

"But you don't intend to try till the proper moment? Bless my soul, what unearthly prudence! He's a good fellow, Amy, but not the man I fancied you'd like."

"He is rich, a gentleman, and has delightful manners," began Amy, trying to be quite cool and dignified, but feeling a little ashamed of herself, in spite of the sincerity of her intentions.

"I understand. Queens of society can't get on without money, so you mean to make a good match, and start in that way? Quite right and proper, as the world goes, but it sounds odd from the lips of one of your mother's girls."

"True, nevertheless."

A short speech, but the quiet decision with which it was uttered contrasted curiously with the young speaker. Laurie felt this instinctively and laid himself down again, with a sense of disappointment which he could not explain. His look and silence, as well as a certain inward self-disapproval, ruffled Amy, and made her resolve to deliver her lecture without delay.

"I wish you'd do me the favor to rouse yourself a little," she said sharply.

"Do it for me, there's a dear girl."

"I could, if I tried." and she looked as if she would like doing it in the most summary style.

"Try, then. I give you leave," returned Laurie, who enjoyed having someone to tease, after his long abstinence from his favorite pastime.

"You'd be angry in five minutes."

"I'm never angry with you. It takes two flints to make a fire. You are as cool and soft as snow."

"You don't know what I can do. Snow produces a glow and a tingle, if applied rightly. Your indifference is half affectation, and a good stirring up would prove it."

"Stir away, it won't hurt me and it may amuse you, as the big man said when his little wife beat him. Regard me in the light of a husband or a carpet, and beat till you are tired, if that sort of exercise agrees with you."

Being decidedly nettled herself, and longing to see him shake off the apathy that so altered him, Amy sharpened both tongue and pencil, and began.

"Flo and I have got a new name for you. It's Lazy Laurence. How do you like it?"

She thought it would annoy him, but he only folded his arms under his head, with an imperturbable, "That's not bad. Thank you, ladies."

"Do you want to know what I honestly think of you?"

"Pining to be told."

"Well, I despise you."

If she had even said 'I hate you' in a petulant or coquettish tone, he would have laughed and rather liked it, but the grave, almost sad, accent in her voice made him open his eyes, and ask quickly . . .

"Why, if you please?"

"Because, with every chance for being good, useful, and happy, you are faulty, lazy, and miserable."

"Strong language, mademoiselle."

"If you like it, I'll go on."

"Pray do, it's quite interesting."

"I thought you'd find it so. Selfish people always like to talk about themselves."

"Am I selfish?" the question slipped out involuntarily and in a tone of surprise, for the one virtue on which he prided himself was generosity.

"Yes, very selfish," continued Amy, in a calm, cool voice, twice as effective just then as an angry one. "I'll show you how, for I've studied you while we were frolicking, and I'm not at all satisfied with you. Here you have been abroad nearly six months, and done nothing but waste time and money and disappoint your friends."

"Isn't a fellow to have any pleasure after a four-year grind?"

"You don't look as if you'd had much. At any rate, you are none the better for it, as far as I can see. I said when we first met that you had improved. Now I take it all back, for I don't think you half so nice as when I left you at home. You have grown abominably lazy, you like gossip, and waste time on frivolous things, you are contented to be petted and admired by silly people, instead of being loved and respected by wise ones. With money, talent, position, health, and beauty, ah you like that old Vanity! But it's the truth, so I can't help saying it, with all these splendid things to use and enjoy, you can find nothing to do but dawdle, and instead of being the man you ought to be, you are only . . ." there she stopped, with a look that had both pain and pity in it.

"Saint Laurence on a gridiron," added Laurie, blandly finishing the sentence. But the lecture began to take effect, for there was a wide-awake sparkle in his eyes now and a half-angry, half-injured expression replaced the former indifference.

"I supposed you'd take it so. You men tell us we are angels, and say we can make you what we will, but the instant we honestly try to do you good, you laugh at us and won't listen, which proves how much your flattery is worth." Amy spoke bitterly, and turned her back on the exasperating martyr at her feet.

In a minute a hand came down over the page, so that she could not draw, and Laurie's voice said, with a droll imitation of a penitent child, "I will be good, oh, I will be good!"

But Amy did not laugh, for she was in earnest, and tapping on the outspread hand with her pencil, said soberly, "Aren't you ashamed of a hand like that? It's as soft and white as a woman's, and looks as if it never did anything but wear Jouvin's best gloves and pick flowers for ladies. You are not a dandy, thank Heaven, so I'm glad to see there are no diamonds or big seal rings on it, only the little old one Jo gave you so long ago. Dear soul, I wish she was here to help me!"

"So do I!"

The hand vanished as suddenly as it came, and there was energy enough in the echo of her wish to suit even Amy. She glanced down at him with a new thought in her mind, but he was lying with his hat half over his face, as if for shade, and his mustache hid his mouth. She only saw his chest rise and fall, with a long breath that might have been a sigh, and the hand that wore the ring nestled down into the grass, as if to hide something too precious or too tender to be spoken of. All in a minute various hints and trifles assumed shape and significance in Amy's mind, and told her what her sister never had confided to her. She remembered that Laurie never spoke voluntarily of Jo, she recalled the shadow on his face just now, the change in his character, and the wearing of the little old ring which was no ornament to a handsome hand. Girls are quick to read such signs and feel their eloquence. Amy had fancied that perhaps a love trouble was at the bottom of the alteration, and now she was sure of it. Her keen eyes filled, and when she spoke again, it was in a voice that could be beautifully soft and kind when she chose to make it so.

"I know I have no right to talk so to you, Laurie, and if you weren't the sweetest-tempered fellow in the world, you'd be very angry with me. But we are all so fond and proud of you, I couldn't bear to think they should be disappointed in you at home as I have been, though, perhaps they would understand the change better than I do."

"I think they would," came from under the hat, in a grim tone, quite as touching as a broken one.

"They ought to have told me, and not let me go blundering and scolding, when I should have been more kind and patient than ever. I never did like that Miss Randal and now I hate her!" said artful Amy, wishing to be sure of her facts this time.

"Hang Miss Randal!" and Laurie knocked the hat off his face with a look that left no doubt of his sentiments toward that young lady.

"I beg pardon, I thought . . ." and there she paused diplomatically.

"No, you didn't, you knew perfectly well I never cared for anyone but Jo," Laurie said that in his old, impetuous tone, and turned his face away as he spoke.

"I did think so, but as they never said anything about it, and you came away, I supposed I was mistaken. And Jo wouldn't be kind to you? Why, I was sure she loved you dearly."

"She was kind, but not in the right way, and it's lucky for her she didn't love me, if I'm the good-for-nothing fellow you think me. It's her fault though, and you may tell her so."

The hard, bitter look came back again as he said that, and it troubled Amy, for she did not know what balm to apply.

"I was wrong, I didn't know. I'm very sorry I was so cross, but I can't help wishing you'd bear it better, Teddy, dear."

"Don't, that's her name for me!" and Laurie put up his hand with a quick gesture to stop the words spoken in Jo's half-kind, half-reproachful tone. "Wait till you've tried it yourself," he added in a low voice, as he pulled up the grass by the handful.

"I'd take it manfully, and be respected if I couldn't be loved," said Amy, with the decision of one who knew nothing about it.

Now, Laurie flattered himself that he had borne it remarkably well, making no moan, asking no sympathy, and taking his trouble away to live it down alone. Amy's lecture put the matter in a new light, and for the first time it did look weak and selfish to lose heart at the first failure, and shut himself up in moody indifference. He felt as if suddenly shaken out of a pensive dream and found it impossible to go to sleep again. Presently he sat up and asked slowly, "Do you think Jo would despise me as you do?"

"Yes, if she saw you now. She hates lazy people. Why don't you do something splendid, and make her love you?"

"I did my best, but it was no use."

"Graduating well, you mean? That was no more than you ought to have done, for your grandfather's sake. It would have been shameful to fail after spending so much time and money, when everyone knew that you could do well."

"I did fail, say what you will, for Jo wouldn't love me," began Laurie, leaning his head on his hand in a despondent attitude.

"No, you didn't, and you'll say so in the end, for it did you good, and proved that you could do something if you tried. If you'd only set about another task of some sort, you'd soon be your hearty, happy self again, and forget your trouble."

"That's impossible."

"Try it and see. You needn't shrug your shoulders, and think, 'Much she knows about such things'. I don't pretend to be wise, but I am observing, and I see a great deal more than you'd imagine. I'm interested in other people's experiences and inconsistencies, and though I can't explain, I remember and use them for my own benefit. Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can't have the one you want. There, I won't lecture any more, for I know you'll wake up and be a man in spite of that hardhearted girl."

Neither spoke for several minutes. Laurie sat turning the little ring on his finger, and Amy put the last touches to the hasty sketch she had been working at while she talked. Presently she put it on his knee, merely saying, "How do you like that?"

He looked and then he smiled, as he could not well help doing, for it was capitally done, the long, lazy figure on the grass, with listless face, half-shut eyes, and one hand holding a cigar, from which came the little wreath of smoke that encircled the dreamer's head.

"How well you draw!" he said, with a genuine surprise and pleasure at her skill, adding, with a half-laugh, "Yes, that's me."

"As you are. This is as you were." and Amy laid another sketch beside the one he held.

It was not nearly so well done, but there was a life and spirit in it which atoned for many faults, and it recalled the past so vividly that a sudden change swept over the young man's face as he looked. Only a rough sketch of Laurie taming a horse. Hat and coat were off, and every line of the active figure, resolute face, and commanding attitude was full of energy and meaning. The handsome brute, just subdued, stood arching his neck under the tightly drawn rein, with one foot impatiently pawing the ground, and ears pricked up as if listening for the voice that had mastered him. In the ruffled mane, the rider's breezy hair and erect attitude, there was a suggestion of suddenly arrested motion, of strength, courage, and youthful buoyancy that contrasted sharply with the supine grace of the '_Dolce far Niente_' sketch. Laurie said nothing but as his eye went from one to the other, Amy saw him flush up and fold his lips together as if he read and accepted the little lesson she had given him. That satisfied her, and without waiting for him to speak, she said, in her sprightly way . . .

"Don't you remember the day you played Rarey with Puck, and we all looked on? Meg and Beth were frightened, but Jo clapped and pranced, and I sat on the fence and drew you. I found that sketch in my portfolio the other day, touched it up, and kept it to show you."

"Much obliged. You've improved immensely since then, and I congratulate you. May I venture to suggest in 'a honeymoon paradise' that five o'clock is the dinner hour at your hotel?"

Laurie rose as he spoke, returned the pictures with a smile and a bow and looked at his watch, as if to remind her that even moral lectures should have an end. He tried to resume his former easy, indifferent air, but it was an affectation now, for the rousing had been more effacious than he would confess. Amy felt the shade of coldness in his manner, and said to herself . . .

"Now, I've offended him. Well, if it does him good, I'm glad, if it makes him hate me, I'm sorry, but it's true, and I can't take back a word of it."

They laughed and chatted all the way home, and little Baptiste, up behind, thought that monsieur and madamoiselle were in charming spirits. But both felt ill at ease. The friendly frankness was disturbed, the sunshine had a shadow over it, and despite their apparent gaiety, there was a secret discontent in the heart of each.

"Shall we see you this evening, mon frere?" asked Amy, as they parted at her aunt's door.

"Unfortunately I have an engagement. Au revoir, madamoiselle," and Laurie bent as if to kiss her hand, in the foreign fashion, which became him better than many men. Something in his face made Amy say quickly and warmly . . .

"No, be yourself with me, Laurie, and part in the good old way. I'd rather have a hearty English handshake than all the sentimental salutations in France."

"Goodbye, dear," and with these words, uttered in the tone she liked, Laurie left her, after a handshake almost painful in its heartiness.

Next morning, instead of the usual call, Amy received a note which made her smile at the beginning and sigh at the end.

My Dear Mentor, Please make my adieux to your aunt, and exult within yourself, for 'Lazy Laurence' has gone to his grandpa, like the best of boys. A pleasant winter to you, and may the gods grant you a blissful honeymoon at Valrosa! I think Fred would be benefited by a rouser. Tell him so, with my congratulations.

Yours gratefully, Telemachus

"Good boy! I'm glad he's gone," said Amy, with an approving smile. The next minute her face fell as she glanced about the empty room, adding, with an involuntary sigh, "Yes, I am glad, but how I shall miss him."

 

劳里到尼斯市来时，原打算呆一个星期的，结果逗留了一个月。他厌倦了独自游荡、艾美熟悉的身影似乎为异国风景增添了令人感到亲切的魅力。他十分怀念以前常受到的"宠爱"，并很高兴能再次品味到它。因为，陌生人给予的关注，无论怎样讨人欢喜，一半都赶不上家里那几个姑娘给予的姐妹般的赞赏。艾美从不像几个姐姐那样宠爱他，但是她现在见到他很高兴，而且相当依恋他，她感到他代表着亲爱的家人，她嘴上不说，心里却渴盼见到他们。他们两人自然地相互为伴，寻求安慰。他们很多时候在一起，骑马，散步，跳舞或者打发时光。在尼斯市欢乐的季节，没有谁能非常勤恳地工作。然而，他们明显地是在无忧无虑地消遣着，他们隐隐约约地对对方作出了发现，得出了看法。在她朋友的估量下，艾美的形象日渐高大，而他却低矮下去。没用只言片语，两人都悟到了那个事实。艾美试图取悦于他，她也成功了。她感激他给予了她许多快乐，她以小小的照顾报答他，温柔的妇人们懂得如何给那种照顾加上描述不出的迷人成份。

劳里没做任何努力，只是尽可能舒服地随心而为。他试图忘却，他感到所有的女人都欠着他一个亲切的字眼，因为一个女人曾经对他冷淡过。慷慨在他来说并不费力，要是艾美愿意接受，他会送给艾美尼斯市所有的小饰物。可是，他同时又感到改变不了艾美对他产生的看法，他十分害怕那双敏锐的蓝眼睛，它们注视着他，流露出那种半是痛苦、半是轻蔑的惊奇神色。

“别的人都去摩纳哥消闲了，我宁愿呆在家里写信。现在信已写好了。我打算去玫瑰谷作画，你愿意去吗？”这一天天气不错，中午时分劳里像往常一样闲逛进来，艾美迎上去这样问道。

“唔，好的。可是走这么长路是不是太热了？”他慢慢地回答道。外面的骄阳使有树荫遮蔽的客厅显得诱人。

“我打算坐那小车去。巴普蒂斯特能驾车，所以没你干的事，你只要打着你的阳伞，让你的手套一尘不染，”艾美讥讽地答道。她扫视了一眼那干干净净的小伙子，这可是劳里的一个弱点。

“那么，我很乐意去。”他伸出手替她拿速写簿，可是她却把它夹到了胳膊下，尖刻地说 “别自找麻烦了，我不费力，可你不一定拿得了。”艾美跑下楼去，劳里皱起了眉头，他从容不迫地跟了下去。然而进了车厢，他便接过缰绳，小巴普蒂斯特反倒无事可做，只好在车架上袖起双手睡觉。

他们两个人从来不争吵 艾美十分有教养，而此刻劳里也太懒散，因此，一会儿后，他带着探究的神情从她的帽边下看她，她便报以微笑。两人又非常和睦地相处了。

驾车沿着蜿蜒的马路行驶使人赏心悦目，马路两旁如画的风景愉悦着艾美的眼睛。这里经过的是一座古寺，寺里传来僧侣们肃穆的颂经声。那里有个光腿穿木鞋的牧羊人，他头戴尖角帽，肩搭着粗布夹克衫，坐在石头上吹着笛子。他的羊儿们有的在石头间蹦跳，有的躺在他的脚下，逆来顺受的鼠灰色毛驴们驮着刚刚割下来的青草走过来了，青草堆中间要么坐着一个漂亮的戴着遮阳阔边软帽的女孩子，要么便坐着一位织着针线活的老妇人。目光柔和、皮肤棕色的孩子们从那古雅的石头小屋里跑出来，为路人提供花束，或者是还连在枝上的一串串柑橘。疙疙瘩瘩的橄榄树带着浓荫覆盖群山，果园里金黄的水果挂在枝头，大片红色的银莲花缀满路边。而绿色山坡和多石的山丘那边，近海的阿尔卑斯山映衬着意大利的蓝色晴空，银装素裹，直插云霄。

玫瑰谷名符其实。在那永恒的夏日气候里，到处盛开着玫瑰。它们悬垂在拱道上，从大门栅栏中伸出头来快乐地欢迎着路人。它们布满道旁，蜿蜒着穿过柠檬树和轻软的棕榈树直达山上的别墅。在每一处有荫凉的角落，座位吸引着路人驻足歇息，这里也有着满捧的玫瑰。在每一个凉爽的洞穴里，都有大理石的美女像，隔着玫瑰面纱展露笑容。每一眼泉都映出红色、白色、粉色的玫瑰花，它们俯身笑看自己美丽的身影。玫瑰花布满了房屋四壁，装饰着飞檐，攀上了柱子，蔓延到那宽阔气台的扶栏上。在那平台上，人们可以俯视阳光下的地中海，以及海岸边那座白墙环绕的城市。

“这真是个度蜜月的天堂，是不是？你可见到过这样的玫瑰？”艾美问。她在平台上驻足欣赏景致，惬意地吸着随风飘来的沁人花香。

“没见过，也没给这样的刺扎过，”劳里回答。他的大拇指放在嘴里，刚才他徒劳地去摘他够不着的那朵孤零零的红玫瑰。

“把枝子弯下来，摘那些不带刺的，”艾美说着，从她身后点缀在墙上的那些花儿中采下三朵乳白色的小玫瑰，然后插进劳里的钮扣眼，作为和平的礼物。劳里站了一会儿，带着古怪的神情看着小白花，因为，在他性格里的意大利部分有点迷信色彩。此刻他正处于一种半是甜蜜半是痛苦的忧郁心境中。想像力丰富的年轻人能从琐碎小事发现意义，无论从哪儿都能找到浪漫题材。当他伸手去摘那朵带刺的红玫瑰时，心里想到了乔，因为颜色鲜艳的花适合她，在家里她常佩戴从温室采来的那种红玫瑰，而意大利人放置死者手中的正是艾美给他的那种白玫瑰，这种白玫瑰从不见于新娘的花环上。有好一会儿，他想着这个预兆是乔的还是他自己的。可是转瞬间，他的美国人常识占了多愁善感心绪的上风。他开怀大笑，这种笑声从他来后艾美就没有听到过。

“这是个好建议，你最好接受以保全你的手指，”艾美说。

她以为是她的话逗乐了他。

“谢谢，我会接受的，”他开玩笑地回答。几个月后，他果然认真地接受了她的建议。

“劳里，你什么时候到你爷爷那儿去？”过了一会儿，她坐到一张粗木椅上问道。

“很快就去。”

“前三个星期里，你这样说了十几遍了。”“我敢说，简短的回答省掉麻烦。““他盼着你，你真的该去了。”“好一个好客的人儿！我知道。”“那你为什么不去呢？”“出乎本性的堕落，我想。”“你是说出乎本性的懒惰。这真可怕！”艾美看上去严厉了。

“并不像看上去那么糟糕。我要是去了只会烦他的，所以，我不妨呆下来再烦你一些时候，你能更好地忍受，我想这样也非常合你的胃口。”劳里准备靠在扶栏宽大的壁架上。

艾美摇摇头，带着听任他的神气打开了速写簿，但是，她打定了主意，要训导"那个男孩"。一会儿她又开了口。

“你在干什么？”

“看蜥蜴。”

“不，不，我是问你打算或者希望做什么。”“抽支烟，要是你允许的话。”“你真气人！我反对抽烟，只有在你让我画下你的情况下，才能允许你抽。我需要一个人体模型。”“万分乐意。你要画我什么 -全身还是四分之三？头还是脚？我倒想敬提建议，采用横卧姿势，然后画上你，把它叫做'Ｄｏｌｃｅeａｒｎｉｅｎｔｅ'。”“就这样呆着，想睡就睡罢。我可要努力工作了，”艾美精力充沛地说。

“正中下怀！”劳里带着心满意足的神态靠在一个高坛子上。

“要是乔现在看到你，她会怎么说？”艾美不耐烦地说。她想通过提及她精力更加旺盛的姐姐的大名，使他振作起来。

“老调子：'走开，特迪，我忙着呢！'"他边说边笑着，但是笑声不自然，一道阴影掠过他的脸庞，因为说出的那个名字触及了他那还未愈合的伤口。那语调和阴影都打动了艾美，她以前听过也见过。现在她抬头看着他，及时捕捉到了劳里脸上一种新的表情--一种不容置疑的酸楚表情，充满痛苦、不满与悔恨。她还没来得及研究，它便消失了，那种无精打采的表情重又恢复。她带着艺术的情趣注视了他一会儿，觉得他看上去多像一个意大利人。他光着头躺在那里，沐浴在阳光中，眼里充满了南国的梦幻神色。此刻他似乎已经忘记了艾美，正在想得出神。

“你看上去就像一个年轻骑士的雕像，睡在自己的坟墓上，”艾美一边说，一边仔细地描着衬在黑色石头上轮廓分明的侧面像。

“但愿我真的是！”

“那可是个愚蠢的愿望，除非你毁了你的生命。你变了这么多，有时我想- “艾美说到这儿打住了，她的神情半是羞怯，半是愁闷，这比她没说完的话更有意味。

她犹豫着表达出的充满爱意的焦虑，劳里既看出来了，也懂得了。他直盯着她的眼睛，像过去常对她母亲说的那样说道：“没事的，夫人。”这使她满意，并打消了最近开始使她担心的疑虑。这也使她感动。她表露出这些，用热诚的语调说 “那样我很高兴。我想你不会是一个非常坏的男孩。不过，我想象你在那邪恶的巴当 巴当丢了钱，爱上了某个有丈夫的法国女人，或者陷入了某种困境，那种困境年轻人似乎都认为是旅外生活的一个必要部分。别呆在太阳底下，过来躺到草地上，就像我们以前坐在沙发的角落里倾诉秘密时乔常说的那样：'让我们友好相处吧。'"劳里顺从地躺到了草地上，开始往近旁艾美帽子的丝带上贴雏菊，以此消遣。

“我准备好听秘密了。”他向上瞥了一眼艾美，眼神里流露出明显的兴趣。

“我没有秘密可说，你可以开始说了。”

“幸而我一个也没有。我以为你也许有一些家里的消息呢。”“最近发生的事你都听说了。你不也常收到信？乔会给你寄来很多信的。”“她很忙。而我这样到处游荡，你知道，不可能有规律。

你什么时候开始你那伟大的艺术工作，拉斐尔娜？”又停了一会他突然转变了话题。停顿时，他猜度着艾美是否已经知道了他的秘密，并且想和他谈这个问题。

“根本不会了，”她带着心灰意懒但是决然的神情回答，”罗马去掉了我所有的虚荣心，因为看过了那里的奇迹，我感到自己太微不足道了，也就绝望地放弃了所有愚蠢的愿望。”“你为什么放弃呢？你有那么富有的精力和天赋。”“那正是原因--天赋不是天才。再多的精力也不能使天赋产生天才。我要么当伟人，要么什么也不当。我不要做那种平庸的拙劣画家。因此，我不打算再试了。”“我可以问一下，你现在打算怎么办吗？”“如果有机会的话，完善我其他的天赋，为社会增添光彩。”这话很有个性，听起来不乏进取心。勇敢属于青年人，艾美的抱负有着良好的基矗劳里笑了。艾美很早就怀有的希望消亡了，她不花时间悲叹，马上又确立新的目标，劳里喜欢这种精神。

“好！我猜想这里有弗雷德·沃恩插进来了。”艾美用心深远地保持了沉默，但是阴郁的脸上有一种感觉得到的神色，使劳里坐了起来，严肃地说：“现在我来扮哥哥，向你提问，可以吗？”“我不保证回答。”“你舌头不回答，脸会回答的。你不是那种精通世故的女人，不能隐瞒感情，亲爱的。我听到过去年有关你和弗雷德的传闻，我私下认为，要不是他那样突然被召回家，又耽搁这么长时间，可能会发生什么事的- 嘿！”“那可不好，”艾美一本正经地回答，可是她的嘴唇绽出笑意，眼睛里放射出亮光。这泄露了她内心的秘密：她知道自己有魅力，并且对此感觉很不错。

“你还没有订婚吧，我想？”劳里突然严肃起来，看上去很像个兄长。

“还没有。”

“可是你会订婚的，要是他回来了，得体地下跪向你求婚，你会答应的，是不是？”“极有可能。”“那么你喜欢弗雷德？”“要是我那样做，我就是喜欢他了。”“但是，不到恰当的时候你是不会那么做的，是吧？天呀！

多么谨小慎微！艾美，他是个好小伙子，但是我想他不是你会喜欢的那种。“他有钱，有教养，风度悦人，”艾美开口说道。她试图保持冷静与尊严，虽然这出自诚意，但还是为自己感到有点不好意思。

“我懂。社交王后没钱不能过活。所以你打算嫁个好人家。

那样开始，就世事而言，相当正确，也很妥当。但这话听起来奇怪，不像出自你妈妈的几个女儿们口中。”“不过，也的确如此。”回答简短，但是说出这话时的平静与断然神态和年轻的说话者形成了奇妙的反差。劳里本能地感到了这一点，他带着一种他自己无法解释的失望感又躺了下去。他的神态、沉默以及某种内心的自我否定使艾美着急，也促使她决心赶快进行她的讲座。

“我希望你能让我刺激刺激你，”她尖刻地说。

“那么来吧，乖女孩。”

“真的吗，我可说到做到。”她看上去像是想即刻就这么做。

“那就试试吧，我答应你了，”劳里回答。他喜欢有人和他逗乐，那么长时间他都没有过这种他最喜欢的娱乐了。

“五分钟内你就会生气了。”

“我从来不和你生气。一个巴掌拍不响，你像白雪一样又冷又软。”“你不知道我能做什么。如果使用得当，白雪能发光，也能刺痛人。你的不在乎神情一半是装出来的，好好激一激就可以证明出来。”“来吧，那伤不了我，也许能逗乐你，就像那个大个子男人在他的小女人打他时说的那样。你把我看成一个丈夫或一块地毯吧，假如那种运动适合你，你就打到累了为止。”艾美十分恼火，她也渴盼他能摆脱那种使他产生这种变化的冷淡。她磨快了舌锋，也削尖了铅笔。她开了口：“我和弗洛给你取了个新名字，叫'懒劳伦斯'，喜欢吗？”她以为这会惹恼他，可他只是支票手枕到头下，冷静地说：“这不坏。谢谢，女士们。”“你想知道我对你的坦率看法吗？”“非常想知道。”“好吧，我看不起你。”要是她带着闹气或者是调情的语调说"我恨你"，他可能会笑起来，并十分欣赏。可是，她那严肃、几近悲哀的语气使他睁开了眼，赶忙问道- “为什么，请问？”“因为，你有各种机会成为善良、有用、幸福的人，却在这样犯错误、懒散、痛苦着。”“言辞激烈，小姐。”“你要是喜欢，我就继续说。” “请吧，相当有趣。”“我就知道你会这样认为的，自私的人总喜欢谈论自己。”“我自私了？”问题脱口而出，语调充满惊奇，因为劳里引以为豪的一大美德便是慷慨。

“是的，非常自私，”艾美以沉着冷静的语调接着说，这比愤怒的语调效果强似两倍，”我指给你看，我们一起嬉戏时我研究过你，我对你一点儿都不满意。你已经到国外来了近六个月了，啥事不干，只是浪费时间和金钱，使你的朋友们失望。”“人家苦学了四年后，就不能稍稍放纵一下？”“看上去你不像是享受了许多乐趣。依我看，无论如何，你的感觉一点也不好。我们初次见面时，我说你有了长进，现在我收回原话，我认为你不如我离开家前的一半好。你变得令人可恶地懒散起来，你喜欢闲聊，在毫无意义的事情上浪费光阴。你满足于让一些愚蠢的人宠爱你，赞赏你，而不要聪明人爱你，尊重你。你有金钱、天赋、地位、健康，还有相貌 -噢，你就像那个老虚荣鬼！这是真话，我忍不住要说出来 -你有那么多美好的东西享用，却游手好闲。你不去做一个你可能做也应该做的人，你只是- "说到这儿，她住了口，表情里既有痛苦，也有同情。

“烤肉架上的圣徒劳伦斯，”劳里接过话头，无动于衷地结束了这句话。但是，演讲开始生效了。现在劳里的眼睛里发出了十分清醒的光亮。那半是愤怒、半是受伤的表情代替了以前的冷淡神情。

“我就猜到你会这样说的。你们男人说我们是天使，还说我们想把你们变成什么样都行，可是我们一旦诚挚地为你们着想，你们便嘲笑我们、不愿听我们的，这就是你们奉承的价值，”艾美尖刻地说，然后她转过身背对脚下那个使人恼怒的受难者。

过了一会儿，一只手放到她的画页上，她没法画了，只听见劳里的声音滑稽地模仿着一个悔过的孩子：“我会听话的，哦，我会听话的。”可是艾美没笑，她是认真的。她用铅笔敲着那只伸开的手，严肃地说：“你不为这样的手感到羞愧吗？它就像妇人的手一样柔软白皙，看着就像从不干事，只是戴着最好的手套，为女人们采花。谢天谢地，你还不是个花花公子，我很高兴，这手上没有钻戒或大图章戒指，只有乔很早以前给你的那又小又旧的指环。天哪！真希望她在这帮帮我！“我也希望！”那只手消失了，像伸过来时同样突然。在对她愿望的附和声里，那种生气是一种共鸣。她怀着新的想法低头注视着他。他躺在那，帽子半遮着脸，像是用来遮阳。他的小胡子盖住了嘴。只见他的胸膛起伏着，长长地喘着气，像是叹息。

戴着指环的手贴在草地里，像是要藏起什么太宝贵、太温柔、连提都不能提的东西。顷刻间，各种各样的线索与琐事都在艾美的脑中成了型，有了意义，并且告诉了她姐姐从未向她吐露的心事。她回想起来，劳里从来没有主动提起过乔。她记起了刚才劳里脸上的阴影、他性情的变化，以及他手上戴着的那又小又旧的指环。那个指环并不配装饰那只漂亮的手。

女孩子们能很快察觉到这种迹象，并感到它们能说明问题。艾美曾推想，在劳里变化的背后，也许有着爱情方面的麻烦。现在她确信了。泪水充盈了她敏锐的双眼。她再开口时，声音温柔动听、亲切悦人，就像她以前有意为之的那样。

“我知道我没有权利对你那样说话，劳里。要不是你是世上脾气最好的人，你就会非常生我的气了。可是，我们都那么喜欢你，为你骄傲，想到家里的人会对你失望我便受不了，虽然也许他们比我更理解你的变化。”“我想他们会理解的，“帽子下传来了回答，声音冷冷的，但和唉声叹气同样打动人。

“他们本来应该告诉我的，以免我乱说话责备你。这时候我本应对你更亲切、更耐心的。我从来就不喜欢那个兰德尔小姐，现在我恨她了！”机灵的艾美说，这次她希望把事情弄确实。

“去他的兰德尔小姐！”劳里打掉了脸上的帽子，他的神情明白无疑地表露出他对那位年轻女士的看法。

“对不起，我还以为 "艾美很有外交手段地打住了话。

“不，别以为了。你十分清楚，除了乔我谁也不在乎，”劳里用他以前那种激动的语气说，一边将脸转了过去。

“我真的这样以为。可是他们从来没说起过这事，你又离开了。我猜想我弄错了。乔不愿对你表示亲切？怎么回事？我肯定她深爱着你。”“她确实亲切，可是方式不对头。要是我像你认为的那样一无是处，她不爱我是她的运气。可我现在这样是她的过错，你可以这么告诉她。”说着他脸上又恢复了那种不容置疑的酸楚表情。艾美急了，她不知道用什么来安慰他。

“我错了。我不知道，非常抱歉我那样焦躁，可是，我希望你能承受得起，特迪，亲爱的。”“别这样叫我，那是她对我的称呼！”他急速做了个手势，阻止她用乔那种半是亲切半是责备的语调说话。”等到你自己尝试过这滋味再说吧，”他低声补充道，一边成把地拔着青草。

“我会像男子汉似地接受它，要是不能被人爱，也要被人尊重，”艾美决然说道，对这种事一无所知的人们常有她这种决心。

劳里本来自以为十分出色地接受了他的失恋。他没有悲叹，没有要求同情，他将烦恼带走了，独自化解。可艾美的讲座使他对这件事有了新的认识。他第一次看清楚了，首次失败便灰心丧气，将自己封闭在郁闷、冷漠的心境中，真的是意志薄弱，而且自私。他感到仿佛突然从忧愁的梦境中挣脱出来，不可能再睡了。他很快坐了起来，慢慢地问道：“你认为乔会像你那样看不起我吗？”“要是她看到你这个样子，会的。她讨厌懒散的人。你为什么不去做些出色的事，使她爱上你呢？”“我尽力了，可是没用。”“你是指以优异的成绩毕业？这没什么了不起。为了你爷爷，你本来就应该这样做。花了那么多时间、金钱，每个人都认为你能学好，要是失败那真是耻辱了。”“你爱怎么说就怎么说，我真的失败了，因为乔不肯爱我，”劳里说。他手托着头摆出一副心灰意懒的样子。

“不，你还没有，到最后你才能这么说。学业这件事对你有好处，它证明只要你去做，就能做出成绩。只要你着手去干一件事，不久你就又会回归到以前那个幸福愉快的自我。你会忘掉烦恼的。”“那不可能。”“试试看吧。你不必耸肩，想着：‘她对这种事知道得还不少。'我不是自作聪明，但是我在观察着，我看到的要比你想象的多得多。尽管我无法解释原因，我对别人的经历以及自相矛盾的言行感兴趣，我记住这些，作为自己的借鉴。你愿意的话，始终爱着乔吧，但别让它毁了你。因为得不到你所要的便仍掉那么多优良天赋，这样做不道德。好了，我不再教训你了，我知道，尽管那女孩无情，但你会清醒过来，做个男子汉的。“有几分钟时间两人都没说话。劳里坐在那儿，转动着手指上的那个小指环，艾美为刚才一边说一边匆匆勾勒的草图做最后的润色。过了一会儿，她把画放在他膝上，问道：“你觉得怎么样？”他看着便笑了起来，也由不得他不笑。画画得极好- 草地上躺着个长长的、懒洋洋的身影，无精打采的面孔，半闭的双眼，一只手捏着支香烟，发出的小小烟圈在做梦者的头顶上缭绕着。

“你画得多好啊！”他说，对她的技艺由衷地感到惊奇和高兴。然后他又似笑非笑地补充道：“对，那就是我。”“是你现在的样子。这是以前的你。”艾美把另一张画放到了他手中这一张的旁边。

这一张没有刚才那一张画得那么好，但是画面有活力，有生气，弥补了许多不足。它那样生动，使人回忆起过去。年轻人看看画，脸上突然掠过一丝变化。这只是一张劳里驯马的草图：他的帽子和外衣都脱下了，活跃的身段，坚定的脸孔，威风凛凛的姿势，每一根线条都充满精力与意义。那匹漂亮的马儿刚被驯服，它立在那儿，在拽得很紧的缰绳下弓着脖颈，一只蹄子不耐烦地在地上刨着，竖着的耳朵仿佛在倾听它的征服者的声音。马被弄乱了的鬃毛，骑士飘拂的头发以及直立的姿势，这些都暗示着引人注目的突然运动，那种运动具有力量、勇气与青春的活力。这和那张"无所事事乐悠悠"画像中懒洋洋的优雅姿态形成了鲜明的对照。劳里什么也没说，但是他的目光从一张画扫到另一张。艾美看到他脸红了，他抿住嘴唇，好像在读着艾美给他的小小功课，并加以接受了。这使艾美满意。她不等他开口，便轻快地说 “你可记得那天你装扮成带顽皮小妖的牧马人，我们都在旁观看？梅格和贝恩吓坏了，乔却拍着手欢跳。我坐在篱笆上画下了你。前些天我在画夹里发现了那张草图，润了色，留着给你看呢。”“非常感谢。从那时起你的画技有了很大的长进，恭贺你。

在这'蜜月天堂'，我得冒昧提醒你，你们旅馆晚饭时间是五点？”劳里说着站了起来，他笑着鞠了个躬，归还了画像。他看着表，仿佛在提醒她，即使是道德教育也应有结束的时候。

他试图恢复他先前那种懒散、冷淡的神气，但现在却是做作出来的了，因为那个刺激比他愿意承认的还要有效。艾美感觉到了他态度里的一丝冷淡。她自言自语道- “我冒犯了他。好吧，要是对他有好处，我感到高兴。要是使他恨我，我感到遗憾。但是，我说的是实情，我一个字也不能收回。”回家的一路上，他们谈笑风生，令站在车后的小巴普蒂斯特以为先生和小姐处于愉快的情绪中。但是两个人都感到不安：友好的坦率被搅和了，阳光中有了一道阴影，而且，尽管表面上十分欢快，两个人内心都暗自不满。

“今天晚上我们能见到你吗，ｍｏｎeｒèｒｅ？”他们在艾美婶娘屋门边分手时，艾美问。

“不巧我有个约会。Ａｕｒｅｖｏｉｒ，ｍａｄｅｍｏｉｓｅｌｌｅ。”劳里弯下腰，像是要去吻她的手，这种异国的道别方式对他比对许多人更适合。他脸上的某种神情使艾美赶忙热情地说 “不，劳里，对我和平常一样吧。用那以前的好方式道别。

我宁愿要英国式热诚的握手，也不要法国式感情用事的问候道别。”“再见，亲爱的，”劳里用艾美喜欢的语调说出这几个字，热烈地握了握她的手，几乎弄疼了她，然后离开了。

第二天早晨，他没有像往常那样来访，艾美接到一张便条，开始读时笑了，看完却叹了口气。

我亲爱的良师门将：

请代我向婶婶道别。你自己也不妨得意，因为，“懒劳伦斯"像个最好的男孩，到他爷爷那儿去了。

祝你冬日愉快！愿上帝赐给你幸福的玫瑰谷蜜月！我想弗雷德会从一个唤醒者那里得到好处的。告诉他这点。恭喜恭喜！

感谢你的，忒勒马科斯

“好小伙子！他走了我感到高兴，”艾美赞许地笑着说。可是转眼间，她环顾空空的屋子，脸拉了下来，不由叹道：“是的，我是高兴，可是我会想念他的！”