“Hello, Lillian! Going in to see the Professor? So am I. I want him to go swimming with me — I’m cutting work. Shall we drop in and hear the end of his lecture, or sit down here on the bench in the sun?”
“We can go quietly to the door and listen. If it’s not interesting, we can come back and sit down for a chat.”
“Good! I came early to overhear a bit. This is the hour he’s with his seniors, isn’t it?”
They entered and went along the hall until they came to number 17; the door was afar, and at the moment one of the students was speaking. When he finished, they heard the Professor reply to him. “No, Miller1, I don’t myself think much of science as a phase of human development. It has given us a lot of ingenious toys; they take our attention away from the real problems, of course, and since the problems are insoluble, I suppose we ought to be grateful for distraction2. But the fact is, the human mind, the individual mind, has always been made more interesting by dwelling3 on the old riddles4, even if it makes nothing of them. Science hasn’t given us any new amazements, except of the superficial kind we get from witnessing dexterity5 and sleight-of-hand. It hasn’t given us any richer pleasures, as the Renaissance6 did, nor any new sins — not one! Indeed, it takes our old ones away. It’s the laboratory, not the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world. You’ll agree there is not much thrill about a physiological7 sin. We were better off when even the prosaic8 matter of taking nourishment9 could have the magnificence of a sin. I don’t think you help people by making their conduct of no importance — you impoverish10 them. As long as every man and woman who crowded into the cathedrals on Easter Sunday was a principal in a gorgeous drama with God, glittering angels on one side and the shadows of evil coming and going on the other, life was a rich thing. The king and the beggar had the same chance at miracles and great temptations and revelations. And that’s what makes men happy, believing in the mystery and importance of their own individual lives. It makes us happy to surround our creature needs and bodily instincts with as much pomp and circumstance as possible. Art and religion (they are the same thing, in the end, of course) have given man the only happiness he has ever had.
“Moses learned the importance of that in the Egyptian court, and when he wanted to make a population of slaves into an independent people in the shortest possible time, he invented elaborate ceremonials to give them a feeling of dignity and purpose. Every act had some imaginative end. The cutting of the finger nails was a religious observance. The Christian11 theologians went over the books of the Law, like great artists, getting splendid effects by excision12. They reset13 the stage with more space and mystery, throwing all the light upon a few sins of great dramatic value — only seven, you remember, and of those only three that are perpetually enthralling14. With the theologians came the cathedral-builders; the sculptors15 and glass-workers and painters. They might, without sacrilege, have changed the prayer a little and said, Thy will be done in art, as it is in heaven. How can it be done anywhere else as it is in heaven? But I think the hour is up. You might tell me next week, Miller, what you think science has done for us, besides making us very comfortable.”
As the young men filed out of the room, Mrs. St. Peter and McGregor went in.
“I came over to get you to go to the electrician’s with me, Godfrey, but I won’t make you. Scott wants you to run out to the lake, and it’s such a fine day, you really should go.”
“Car’s outside. We’ll just drop Lillian at the house, Doctor, and you can pick up your bathing-suit. We heard part of your lecture, by the way. How you get by the Methodists is still a mystery to me.”
“I wish he would get into trouble, Scott,” said Lillian as they left the building. “I wish he wouldn’t talk to those fat-faced boys as if they were intelligent beings. You cheapen yourself, Godfrey. It makes me a little ashamed.”
“I was rather rambling16 on today. I’m sorry you happened along. There’s a fellow in that lot, Tod Miller, who isn’t slow, and he excites me to controversy17.”
“All the same,” murmured his wife, “it’s hardly dignified18 to think aloud in such company. It’s in rather bad taste.”
“Thank you for the tip, Lillian. I won’t do it again.”
It took Scott only twenty minutes to get out to the lake. He drew up at the bit of beach of St. Peter had bought for himself years before; a little triangle of sand running out into the water, with a bath-house and seven shaggy pine-trees on it. Scott had to fuss with the car, and the Professor was undressed and in the water before him.
When McGregor was ready to go in, his father-inlaw was some distance out, swimming with an over-arm stroke, his head and shoulders well out of the water. He wore on his head a rubber visor of a kind he always brought home from France in great numbers. This one was vermilion, and was like a continuation of his flesh — his arms and back were burned a deep terra-cotta from a summer in the lake. His head and powerful reaching arms made a strong red pattern against the purple blue of the water. The visor was picturesque19 — his head looked sheathed20 and small and intensely alive, like the heads of the warriors21 on the Parthenon frieze22 in their tight, archaic23 helmets.
By five o’clock St. Peter and McGregor were dressed and lying on the sand, their overcoats wrapped about them, smoking. Suddenly Scott began to chuckle24.
“Oh, Professor, you know your English friend, Sir Edgar Spilling? The day after I met him at your house, he came up to my office at the Herald25 to get some facts you’d been too modest to give him. When he was leaving he stood and looked at one of these motto cards I have over my desk, DON’T KNOCK, and said: ‘May I ask why you don’t have that notice on the outside of your door? I didn’t observe any other way of getting in.’ They never get wise, do they? He really went out to see Marsellus’ place — seemed interested. Doctor, are you going to let them call that place after Tom?”
“My dear boy, how can I prevent it?”
“Well, you surely don’t like the idea, do you?”
The Professor lit another cigarette and was a long while about it. When he had got it going, he turned on his elbow and looked at McGregor. “Scott, you must see that I can’t make suggestions to Louie. He’s perfectly26 consistent. He’s a great deal more generous and public-spirited than I am, and my preferences would be enigmatical to him. I can’t, either, very gracefully27 express myself to you about his affairs.”
“I get you. Sorry he riles me so. I always say it shan’t occur next time, but it does.” Scott took out his pipe and lay silent for a time, looking at the gold glow burning on the water and on the wings of the gulls28 as they flew by. His expression was wistful, rather mournful. He was a good-looking fellow, with sunburned blond hair, splendid teeth, attractive eyes that usually frowned a little unless he was laughing outright29, a small, prettily30 cut mouth, restless at the corners. There was something moody31 and discontented about his face. The Professor had a great deal of sympathy for him; Scott was too good for his work. He had been delighted when his daily poem and his “uplift” editorials first proved successful, because that enabled him to marry. Now he could sell as many good-cheer articles as he had time to write, on any subject, and he loathed32 doing them. Scott had early picked himself out to do something very fine, and he felt that the was wasting his life and his talents. The new group of poets made him angry. When a new novel was discussed seriously by his friends, he was perfectly miserable33. St. Peter knew that the poor boy had seasons of desperate unhappiness. His disappointed vanity ate away at his vitals like the Spartan34 boy’s wolf, and only the deep lines in his young forehead and the twitching35 at the corners of his mouth showed that he suffered.
Not long ago, when the students were giving an historical pageant36 to commemorate37 the deeds of an early French explorer among the Great Lakes, they asked St. Peter to do a picture for them, and he had arranged one which amused him very much, though it had nothing to do with the subject. He posed his two sons-inlaw in a tapestry-hung tent, for a conference between Richard Plantagenet and the Saladin, before the walls of Jerusalem. Marsellus, in a green dressing-gown and turban, was seated at a table with a chart, his hands extended in reasonable, patient argument. The Plantagenet was standing38, his plumed39 helmet is his hand, his square yellow head haughtily40 erect41, his unthoughtful brows fiercely frowning, his lips curled and his fresh face full of arrogance42. The tableau43 had received no special notice, and Mrs. St. Peter had said dryly that she was afraid nobody saw his little joke. But the Professor liked his picture, and he thought it quite fair to both the young men.
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1
miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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riddles
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| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
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dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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physiological
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| adj.生理学的，生理学上的 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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impoverish
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| vt.使穷困，使贫困 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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excision
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| n.删掉；除去 | |
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reset
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| v.重新安排，复位；n.重新放置；重放之物 | |
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enthralling
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| 迷人的 | |
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sculptors
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| 雕刻家，雕塑家( sculptor的名词复数 )； [天]玉夫座 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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sheathed
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| adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的；覆盖的；铠装的；装鞘了的v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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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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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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commemorate
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| vt.纪念，庆祝 | |
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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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plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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41
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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42
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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43
tableau
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| n.画面，活人画（舞台上活人扮的静态画面） | |
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