He turned out the gas still burning in the passage outside their room. Pausing, with his hand on the knob of the door, he tried to shape his apology, for he had no intention of letting her see that he was nervous.
But the door did not open, nor when he pulled it and turned the handle firmly. She must have locked it for some reason, and forgotten.
Entering his dressing-room where the gas was also light and burning low, he went quickly to the other door. That too was locked. Then he noticed that the camp bed which he occasionally used was prepared, and his sleeping-suit laid out upon it. He put his hand up to his forehead, and brought it away wet. It dawned on him that he was barred out.
He went back to the door, and rattling1 the handle stealthily, called: “Unlock the door, do you hear? Unlock the door!”
There was a faint rustling2, but no answer.
“Do you hear? Let me in at once — I insist on being let in!”
He could catch the sound of her breathing close to the door, like the breathing of a creature threatened by danger.
There was something terrifying in this inexorable silence, in the impossibility of getting at her. He went back to the other door, and putting his whole weight against it, tried to burst it open. The door was a new one — he had had them renewed himself, in readiness for their coming in after the honeymoon3. In a rage he lifted his foot to kick in the panel; the thought of the servants restrained him, and he felt suddenly that he was beaten.
Flinging himself down in the dressing-room, he took up a book.
But instead of the print he seemed to see his wife — with her yellow hair flowing over her bare shoulders, and her great dark eyes — standing4 like an animal at bay. And the whole meaning of her act of revolt came to him. She meant it to be for good.
He could not sit still, and went to the door again. He could still hear her, and he called: “Irene! Irene!”
He did not mean to make his voice pathetic.
In ominous5 answer, the faint sounds ceased. He stood with clenched6 hands, thinking.
Presently he stole round on tiptoe, and running suddenly at the other door, made a supreme7 effort to break it open. It creaked, but did not yield. He sat down on the stairs and buried his face in his hands.
For a long time he sat there in the dark, the moon through the skylight above laying a pale smear8 which lengthened9 slowly towards him down the stairway. He tried to be philosophical10.
Since she had locked her doors she had no further claim as a wife, and he would console himself with other women.
It was but a spectral11 journey he made among such delights — he had no appetite for these exploits. He had never had much, and he had lost the habit. He felt that he could never recover it. His hunger could only be appeased12 by his wife, inexorable and frightened, behind these shut doors. No other woman could help him.
This conviction came to him with terrible force out there in the dark.
His philosophy left him; and surly anger took its place. Her conduct was immoral13, inexcusable, worthy14 of any punishment within his power. He desired no one but her, and she refused him!
She must really hate him, then! He had never believed it yet. He did not believe it now. It seemed to him incredible. He felt as though he had lost for ever his power of judgment15. If she, so soft and yielding as he had always judged her, could take this decided16 step — what could not happen?
Then he asked himself again if she were carrying on an intrigue17 with Bosinney. He did not believe that she was; he could not afford to believe such a reason for her conduct — the thought was not to be faced.
It would be unbearable18 to contemplate19 the necessity of making his marital20 relations public property. Short of the most convincing proofs he must still refuse to believe, for he did not wish to punish himself. And all the time at heart — he did believe.
The moonlight cast a greyish tinge21 over his figure, hunched22 against the staircase wall.
Bosinney was in love with her! He hated the fellow, and would not spare him now. He could and would refuse to pay a penny piece over twelve thousand and fifty pounds — the extreme limit fixed23 in the correspondence; or rather he would pay, he would pay and sue him for damages. He would go to Jobling and Boulter and put the matter in their hands. He would ruin the impecunious24 beggar! And suddenly — though what connection between the thoughts? — he reflected that Irene had no money either. They were both beggars. This gave him a strange satisfaction.
The silence was broken by a faint creaking through the wall. She was going to bed at last. Ah! Joy and pleasant dreams! If she threw the door open wide he would not go in now!
But his lips, that were twisted in a bitter smile, twitched25; he covered his eyes with his hands. . . .
It was late the following afternoon when Soames stood in the dining-room window gazing gloomily into the Square.
The sunlight still showered on the plane-trees, and in the breeze their gay broad leaves shone and swung in rhyme to a barrel organ at the corner. It was playing a waltz, an old waltz that was out of fashion, with a fateful rhythm in the notes; and it went on and on, though nothing indeed but leaves danced to the tune26.
The woman did not look too gay, for she was tired; and from the tall houses no one threw her down coppers27. She moved the organ on, and three doors off began again.
It was the waltz they had played at Roger’s when Irene had danced with Bosinney; and the perfume of the gardenias28 she had worn came back to Soames, drifted by the malicious29 music, as it had been drifted to him then, when she passed, her hair glistening30, her eyes so soft, drawing Bosinney on and on down an endless ballroom31.
The organ woman plied32 her handle slowly; she had been grinding her tune all day-grinding it in Sloane Street hard by, grinding it perhaps to Bosinney himself.
Soames turned, took a cigarette from the carven box, and walked back to the window. The tune had mesmerized33 him, and there came into his view Irene, her sunshade furled, hastening homewards down the Square, in a soft, rose-coloured blouse with drooping34 sleeves, that he did not know. She stopped before the organ, took out her purse, and gave the woman money.
Soames shrank back and stood where he could see into the hall.
She came in with her latch-key, put down her sunshade, and stood looking at herself in the glass. Her cheeks were flushed as if the sun had burned them; her lips were parted in a smile. She stretched her arms out as though to embrace herself, with a laugh that for all the world was like a sob35.
Soames stepped forward.
“Very-pretty!” he said.
But as though shot she spun36 round, and would have passed him up the stairs. He barred the way.
“Why such a hurry?” he said, and his eyes fastened on a curl of hair fallen loose across her ear. . . .
He hardly recognised her. She seemed on fire, so deep and rich the colour of her cheeks, her eyes, her lips, and of the unusual blouse she wore.
She put up her hand and smoothed back the curl. She was breathing fast and deep, as though she had been running, and with every breath perfume seemed to come from her hair, and from her body, like perfume from an opening flower.
“I don’t like that blouse,” he said slowly, “it’s a soft, shapeless thing!”
He lifted his finger towards her breast, but she dashed his hand aside.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried.
He caught her wrist; she wrenched37 it away.
“And where may you have been?” he asked.
“In heaven — out of this house!” With those words she fled upstairs.
Outside — in thanksgiving — at the very door, the organ-grinder was playing the waltz.
And Soames stood motionless. What prevented him from following her?
Was it that, with the eyes of faith, he saw Bosinney looking down from that high window in Sloane Street, straining his eyes for yet another glimpse of Irene’s vanished figure, cooling his flushed face, dreaming of the moment when she flung herself on his breast — the scent38 of her still in the air around, and the sound of her laugh that was like a sob?
点击收听单词发音
1 rattling | |
adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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2 rustling | |
n. 瑟瑟声,沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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3 honeymoon | |
n.蜜月(假期);vi.度蜜月 | |
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4 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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5 ominous | |
adj.不祥的,不吉的,预兆的,预示的 | |
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6 clenched | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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8 smear | |
v.涂抹;诽谤,玷污;n.污点;诽谤,污蔑 | |
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9 lengthened | |
(时间或空间)延长,伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10 philosophical | |
adj.哲学家的,哲学上的,达观的 | |
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11 spectral | |
adj.幽灵的,鬼魂的 | |
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12 appeased | |
安抚,抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 ); 绥靖(满足另一国的要求以避免战争) | |
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13 immoral | |
adj.不道德的,淫荡的,荒淫的,有伤风化的 | |
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14 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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15 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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16 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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17 intrigue | |
vt.激起兴趣,迷住;vi.耍阴谋;n.阴谋,密谋 | |
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18 unbearable | |
adj.不能容忍的;忍受不住的 | |
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19 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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20 marital | |
adj.婚姻的,夫妻的 | |
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21 tinge | |
vt.(较淡)着色于,染色;使带有…气息;n.淡淡色彩,些微的气息 | |
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22 hunched | |
(常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦)耸肩弓身的,伏首前倾的 | |
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23 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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24 impecunious | |
adj.不名一文的,贫穷的 | |
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25 twitched | |
vt.& vi.(使)抽动,(使)颤动(twitch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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26 tune | |
n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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27 coppers | |
铜( copper的名词复数 ); 铜币 | |
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28 gardenias | |
n.栀子属植物,栀子花( gardenia的名词复数 ) | |
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29 malicious | |
adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
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30 glistening | |
adj.闪耀的,反光的v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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31 ballroom | |
n.舞厅 | |
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32 plied | |
v.使用(工具)( ply的过去式和过去分词 );经常供应(食物、饮料);固定往来;经营生意 | |
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33 mesmerized | |
v.使入迷( mesmerize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34 drooping | |
adj. 下垂的,无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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35 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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36 spun | |
v.纺,杜撰,急转身 | |
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37 wrenched | |
v.(猛力地)扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 );扭伤;使感到痛苦;使悲痛 | |
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38 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
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