“‘Gilles,’” said Adrian, resting one leg; “that strikes me as about the best picture yet, Dinny. It’s queer — when a genre3 painter of the decorative4 school gets hold of a subject or a type that grips him, how thoroughly5 he’ll stir you up. Look at the pierrot’s face — what a brooding, fateful, hiding-up expression! There’s the public performer, with the private life, incarnate6!”
Dinny remained silent.
“Well, young woman?”
“I was wondering whether art was so conscious. Don’t you think he just wanted to paint that white dress, and his model did the rest? It’s a marvellous expression, but perhaps he had it. People do.”
Adrian noted7 her face with the tail of his eye. Yes! People did. Paint her in repose8, render her when she wasn’t aware of how she was looking, of keeping her end up, or whatever you might call it, and wouldn’t you have a face that stirred you with all that lay behind it? Art was unsatisfactory. When it gave you the spirit, distilled10 the essence, it didn’t seem real; and when it gave you the gross, cross-currented, contradictory11 surface, it didn’t seem worth while. Attitudes, fleeting12 expressions, tricks of light — all by way of being ‘real,’ and nothing revealed! He said suddenly:
“Great books and portraits are so dashed rare, because artists won’t high-light the essential, or if they do, they overdo13 it.”
“I don’t see how that applies to this picture, Uncle. It’s not a portrait, it’s a dramatic moment and a white dress.”
“Perhaps! All the same, if I could paint you, Dinny, as you truly are, people would say you weren’t real.”
“How fortunate!”
“Most people can’t even imagine you.”
“Forgive imperence, Uncle, but — can YOU?”
Adrian wrinkled up his goatee.
“I like to think so.”
“Oh, look! There’s the Boucher Pompadour!”
After two minutes in front of its expanse Adrian continued:
“Well, for a man who preferred it nude14, he could paint what covers the female body pretty well, couldn’t he?”
“Maintenon and Pompadour. I always get them mixed.”
“The Maintenon wore blue stockings, and ministered to Louis the XIVth.”
“Oh, yes! Let’s go straight from here to the Manets, Uncle.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think I shall last much longer.”
Adrian, glancing round, suddenly saw why. In front of the Gilles were standing15 Clare and a young man whom he did not know. He put his arm through Dinny’s and they passed into the next room but one.
“I noticed your discretion16,” he murmured, in front of the ‘Boy Blowing Bubbles.’ “Is that young man a snake in the grass, or a worm in the bud, or —?”
“A very nice boy.”
“What’s his name?”
“Tony Croom.”
“Oh! the young man on the ship? Does Clare see much of him?”
“I don’t ask her, Uncle. She is guaranteed to behave for a year”; and, at the cock of Adrian’s eyebrow17, added: “She promised Aunt Em.”
“And after the year?”
“I don’t know, nor does she. Aren’t these Manets good?”
They passed slowly through the room and came to the last.
“To think that Gauguin struck me as the cream of eccentricity18 in 1910,” murmured Adrian; “it shows how things move. I went to that post-impressionist exhibition straight from looking at the Chinese pictures in the B. M. Cézanne, Matisse, Gauguin, Van Gogh — the last word then, hoary19 now. Gauguin certainly IS a colourist. But give me the Chinese still. I fear I’m fundamentally of the old order, Dinny.”
“I can see these are good — most of them; but I couldn’t live with them.”
“The French have their uses; no other country can show you the transitions of art so dearly. From the Primitives to Clouet, from Clouet to Poussin and Claude, from them to Watteau and his school, thence to Boucher and Greuze, on to Ingres and Delacroix, to the Barbizon lot, to the Impressionists, to the Post-Impressionists; and always some bloke — Chardin, Lépicié, Fragonard, Manet, Degas, Monet, Cezanne — breaking away or breaking through towards the next.”
“Has there ever before been such a violent break as just lately?”
“There’s never before been such a violent break in the way people look at life; nor such complete confusion in the minds of artists as to what they exist for.”
“And what DO they exist for, Uncle?”
“To give pleasure or reveal truth, or both.”
“I can’t imagine myself enjoying what they enjoy, and — what is truth?”
Adrian turned up his thumbs.
“Dinny, I’m tired as a dog. Let’s slip out.”
Dinny saw her sister and young Croom passing through the archway. She was not sure whether Clare had noticed them, and young Croom was clearly noticing nothing but Clare. She followed Adrian out, in her turn admiring his discretion. But neither of them would admit uneasiness. With whom one went about was now so entirely20 one’s own business.
They had walked up the Burlington Arcade21, when Adrian was suddenly startled by the pallor of her face.
“What’s the matter, Dinny? You look like a ghost!”
“If you don’t mind, Uncle, I’d like a cup of coffee.”
“There’s a place in Bond Street.” Scared by the bloodlessness of her smiling lips, he held her arm firmly till they were seated at a little table round the corner.
“Two coffees — extra strong,” said Adrian, and with that instinctive22 consideration which caused women and children to confide23 in him, he made no attempt to gain her confidence.
“Nothing so tiring as picture-gazing. I’m sorry to emulate24 Em and suspect you of not eating enough, my dear. That sort of sparrow-pecking we did before going in doesn’t really count.” But colour had come back to her lips.
“I’m very tough, Uncle; but food IS rather a bore.”
“You and I must go a little tour in France. Their grub can move one’s senses if their pictures can’t move one’s spirit.”
“Did you feel THAT?”
“Compared with the Italian — emphatically. It’s all so beautifully thought out. They make their pictures like watches. Perfectly25 art-conscious and thorough workmen. Unreasonable26 to ask for more, and yet — perhaps fundamentally unpoetic. And that reminds me, Dinny, I do hope Clare can be kept out of the Divorce Court, for of all unpoetic places that is IT.”
Dinny shook her head.
“I’d rather she got it over. I even think she was wrong to promise. She’s not going to change her mind about Jerry. She’ll be like a bird with one leg. Besides, who thinks the worse of you nowadays!”
Adrian moved uncomfortably.
“I dislike the thought of those hard-boiled fellows playing battledore with my kith and kin9. If they were like Dornford — but they aren’t. Seen anything more of him?”
“He was down with us for one night when he had to speak.”
He noticed that she spoke27 without ‘batting an eyelid,’ as the young men called it nowadays. And, soon after, they parted, Dinny assuring him that she had “come over quite well again.”
He had said that she looked like a ghost; he might better have said she looked as if she had seen one. For, coming out of that Arcade, all her past in Cork28 Street had come fluttering like some lonely magpie29 towards her, beaten wings in her face and swerved30 away. And now, alone, she turned and walked back there. Resolutely31 she went to the door, climbed the stairs to Wilfrid’s rooms, and rang the bell. Leaning against the window-sill on the landing, she waited with elapsed hands, thinking: ‘I wish I had a muff!” Her hands felt so cold. In old pictures they stood with veils down and their hands in muffs; but ‘the old order changeth,’ and she had none. She was just going away when the door was opened. Stack! In slippers32! His glance, dark and prominent as ever, fell to those slippers and his demeanour seemed to stammer33.
“Pardon me, miss, I was just going to change ’em.”
Dinny held out her hand, and he took it with his old air, as if about to ‘confess’ her.
“I was passing, and thought I’d like to ask how you were.”
“Fine, thank you, miss! Hope you’ve been keeping well, and the dog?”
“Quite well, both of us. Foch likes the country.”
“Ah! Mr. Desert always thought he was a country dog.”
“Have you any news?”
“Not to say news, miss. I understand from his bank that he’s still in Siam. They forward his letters to their branch in Bangkok. His lordship was here not long ago, and I understood him to say that Mr. Desert was up a river somewhere.”
“A river!”
“The name escapes me, something with a ‘Yi’ in it, and a ‘sang’— was it? I believe it’s very ‘ot there. If I may say so, miss, you haven’t much colour considering the country. I was down home in Barnstaple at Christmas, and it did me a power of good.”
Dinny took his hand again.
“I’m very glad to have seen you, Stack.”
“Come in, miss. You’ll see I keep the room just as it was.”
Dinny followed to the doorway34 of the sitting-room35.
“Exactly the same, Stack; he might almost be there.”
“I like to think so, miss.”
“Perhaps he is,” said Dinny. “They say we have astral bodies. Thank you.” She touched his arm, passed him, and went down the stairs. Her face quivered and was still, and she walked rapidly away.
A river! Her dream! ‘One more river!’
In Bond Street a voice said: “Dinny!” and she turned to see Fleur.
“Whither away, my dear? Haven’t seen you for an age. I’ve just been to the French pictures. Aren’t they divine? I saw Clare there with a young man in tow. Who is he?”
“A shipmate — Tony Croom.”
“More to come?”
Dinny shrugged36, and, looking at her trim companion, thought: ‘I wish Fleur didn’t always go so straight to the point.’
“Any money?”
“No. He’s got a job, but it’s very slender — Mr. Muskham’s Arab mares.”
“Oh! Three hundred a year — five at the outside. That’s no good at all. You know, really, she’s making a great mistake. Jerry Corven will go far.”
Dinny said drily: “Further than Clare, anyway.”
“You mean it’s a complete breach38?”
Dinny nodded. She had never been so near disliking Fleur.
“Well, Clare’s not like you. She belongs to the new order, or disorder39. That’s why it’s a mistake. She’d have a much better time if she stuck to Jerry, nominally40 at least. I can’t see her poor.”
“She doesn’t care about money,” said Dinny coldly.
“Oh, nonsense! Money’s only being able to do what you want to do. Clare certainly cares about that.”
Dinny, who knew that this was true, said, still more coldly:
“It’s no good to try and explain.”
“My dear, there’s nothing to explain. He’s hurt her in some way, as, of course, he would. That’s no reason in the long run. That perfectly lovely Renoir — the man and woman in the box! Those people lived lives of their own — together. Why shouldn’t Clare?”
“Would you?”
Fleur gave a little shrug37 of her beautifully fitted shoulders.
“If Michael wasn’t such a dear. Besides — children.” Again she gave that little shrug.
Dinny thawed41. “You’re a fraud, Fleur. You don’t practise what you preach.”
“My dear, my case is exceptional.”
“So is everybody’s.”
“Well, don’t let’s squabble. Michael says your new Member, Dornford, is after his own heart. They’re working together on pigs, poultry42, and potatoes. A great stunt43, and the right end of the stick, for once.”
“Yes, we’re going all out for pigs at Condaford. Is Uncle Lawrence doing anything at Lippinghall?”
“No. He invented the plan, so he thinks he’s done his bit. Michael will make him do more when he’s got time. Em is screamingly funny about it. How do you like Dornford?”
Asked this question twice in one morning, Dinny looked her cousin by marriage full in the face.
“He seems to me almost a paragon44.”
She felt Fleur’s hand slip suddenly under her arm.
“I wish you’d marry him, Dinny dear. One doesn’t marry paragons45, but I fancy one could ‘fault’ him if one tried.”
It was Dinny’s turn to give a little shrug, looking straight before her.
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收听单词发音
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1
primitives
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| 原始人（primitive的复数形式） | |
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emulating
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| v.与…竞争( emulate的现在分词 )；努力赶上；计算机程序等仿真；模仿 | |
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genre
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| n.(文学、艺术等的)类型，体裁，风格 | |
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decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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incarnate
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| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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distilled
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| adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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overdo
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| vt.把...做得过头，演得过火 | |
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nude
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| adj.裸体的；n.裸体者，裸体艺术品 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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arcade
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| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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24
emulate
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| v.努力赶上或超越，与…竞争；效仿 | |
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25
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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spoke
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| 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 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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magpie
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| n.喜欢收藏物品的人，喜鹊，饶舌者 | |
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swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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32
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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36
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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38
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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nominally
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| 在名义上，表面地； 应名儿 | |
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41
thawed
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| 解冻 | |
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42
poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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43
stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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44
paragon
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| n.模范，典型 | |
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paragons
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| n.模范( paragon的名词复数 )；典型；十全十美的人；完美无缺的人 | |
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