At the close of Howland Wade3’s discourse4, Bernald, charged with his prodigious5 secret, had felt the need to escape for an instant from the liberated6 rush of talk. The interest of watching Pellerin was so perilously7 great that the watcher felt it might, at any moment, betray him. He lingered in the crowded drawing-room long enough to see his friend enclosed in a mounting tide, above which Mrs. Beecher Bain and Miss Fosdick actively8 waved their conversational9 tridents; then he took refuge, at the back of the house, in a small dim library where, in his younger days, he had discussed personal immortality10 and the problem of consciousness with beautiful girls whose names he could not remember.
In this retreat he surprised Mr. Beecher Bain, a quiet man with a mild brow, who was smoking a surreptitious cigar over the last number of the Strand11. Mr. Bain, at Bernald’s approach, dissembled the Strand under a copy of the Hibbert Journal, but tendered his cigar-case with the remark that stocks were heavy again; and Bernald blissfully abandoned himself to this unexpected contact with reality.
On his return to the drawing-room he found that the tide had set toward the supper-table, and when it finally carried him thither12 it was to land him in the welcoming arms of Bob Wade.
“Hullo, old man! Where have you been all this time? — Winterman? Oh, he’s talking to Howland: yes, I managed it finally. I believe Mrs. Bain has steered13 them into the library, so that they shan’t be disturbed. I gave her an idea of the situation, and she was awfully14 kind. We’d better leave them alone, don’t you think? I’m trying to get a croquette for Miss Fosdick.”
Bernald’s secret leapt in his bosom15, and he devoted16 himself to the task of distributing sandwiches and champagne17 while his pulses danced to the tune18 of the cosmic laughter. The vision of Pellerin and his Interpreter, face to face at last, had a Cyclopean grandeur19 that dwarfed20 all other comedy. “And I shall hear of it presently; in an hour or two he’ll be telling me about it. And that hour will be all mine — mine and his!” The dizziness of the thought made it difficult for Bernald to preserve the balance of the supper-plates he was distributing. Life had for him at that moment the completeness which seems to defy disintegration21.
The throng22 in the dining-room was thickening, and Bernald’s efforts as purveyor23 were interrupted by frequent appeals, from ladies who had reached repleteness, that he should sit down a moment and tell them all about his interesting friend. Winterman’s fame, trumpeted24 abroad by Miss Fosdick, had reached the four corners of the Uplift Club, and Bernald found himself fabricating de toutes pieces a Winterman legend which should in some degree respond to the Club’s demand for the human document. When at length he had acquitted25 himself of this obligation, and was free to work his way back through the lessening26 groups into the drawing-room, he was at last rewarded by a glimpse of his friend, who, still densely27 encompassed28, towered in the centre of the room in all his sovran ugliness.
Their eyes met across the crowd; but Bernald gathered only perplexity from the encounter. What were Pellerin’s eyes saying to him? What orders, what confidences, what indefinable apprehension29 did their long look impart? The young man was still trying to decipher their complex message when he felt a tap on the arm, and turned to encounter the rueful gaze of Bob Wade, whose meaning lay clearly enough on the surface of his good blue stare.
“Well, it won’t work — it won’t work,” the doctor groaned30.
“What won’t?”
“I mean with Howland. Winterman won’t. Howland doesn’t take to him. Says he’s crude — frightfully crude. And you know how Howland hates crudeness.”
“Oh, I know,” Bernald exulted31. It was the word he had waited for — he saw it now! Once more he was lost in wonder at Howland’s miraculous32 faculty33 for always, as the naturalists34 said, being true to type.
“So I’m afraid it’s all up with his chance of writing. At least I can do no more,” said Wade, discouraged.
Bernald pressed him for farther details. “Does Winterman seem to mind much? Did you hear his version?”
“His version?”
“I mean what he said to Howland.”
“Why no. What the deuce was there for him to say?”
“What indeed? I think I’ll take him home,” said Bernald gaily35.
He turned away to join the circle from which, a few minutes before, Pellerin’s eyes had vainly and enigmatically signalled to him; but the circle had dispersed36, and Pellerin himself was not in sight.
Bernald, looking about him, saw that during his brief aside with Wade the party had passed into the final phase of dissolution. People still delayed, in diminishing groups, but the current had set toward the doors, and every moment or two it bore away a few more lingerers. Bernald, from his post, commanded the clearing perspective of the two drawing-rooms, and a rapid survey of their length sufficed to assure him that Pellerin was not in either. Taking leave of Wade, the young man made his way back to the drawing-room, where only a few hardened feasters remained, and then passed on to the library which had been the scene of the late momentous37 colloquy38. But the library too was empty, and drifting back uncertainly to the inner drawing-room Bernald found Mrs. Beecher Bain domestically putting out the wax candles on the mantel-piece.
“Dear Mr. Bernald! Do sit down and have a little chat. What a wonderful privilege it has been! I don’t know when I’ve had such an intense impression.”
She made way for him, hospitably39, in a corner of the sofa to which she had sunk; and he echoed her vaguely40: “You were impressed, then?”
“I can’t express to you how it affected41 me! As Alice said, it was a resurrection — it was as if John Pellerin were actually here in the room with us!”
Bernald turned on her with a half-audible gasp42. “You felt that, dear Mrs. Bain?”
“We all felt it — every one of us! I don’t wonder the Greeks — it was the Greeks? — regarded eloquence43 as a supernatural power. As Alice says, when one looked at Howland Wade one understood what they meant by the Afflatus44.”
Bernald rose and held out his hand. “Oh, I see — it was Howland who made you feel as if Pellerin were in the room? And he made Miss Fosdick feel so too?”
“Why, of course. But why are you rushing off?”
“Because I must hunt up my friend, who’s not used to such late hours.”
“Your friend?” Mrs. Bain had to collect her thoughts. “Oh, Mr. Winterman, you mean? But he’s gone already.”
“Gone?” Bernald exclaimed, with an odd twinge of foreboding. Remembering Pellerin’s signal across the crowd, he reproached himself for not having answered it more promptly45. Yet it was certainly strange that his friend should have left the house without him.
“Are you quite sure?” he asked, with a startled glance at the clock.
“Oh, perfectly46. He went half an hour ago. But you needn’t hurry home on his account, for Alice Fosdick carried him off with her. I saw them leave together.”
“Carried him off? She took him home with her, you mean?”
“Yes. You know what strange hours she keeps. She told me she was going to give him a Welsh rabbit, and explain Pellerinism to him.”
“Oh, if she’s going to explain — ” Bernald murmured. But his amazement47 at the news struggled with a confused impatience48 to reach his rooms in time to be there for his friend’s arrival. There could be no stranger spectacle beneath the stars than that of John Pellerin carried off by Miss Fosdick, and listening, in the small hours, to her elucidation49 of his doctrines50; but Bernald knew enough of his sex to be aware that such an experiment may present a less humorous side to its subject than to an impartial51 observer. Even the Uplift Club and its connotations might benefit by the attraction of the unknown; and it was conceivable that to a traveller from Mesopotamia Miss Fosdick might present elements of interest which she had lost for the frequenters of Fifth Avenue. There was, at any rate, no denying that the affair had become unexpectedly complex, and that its farther development promised to be rich in comedy.
In the charmed contemplation of these possibilities Bernald sat over his fire, listening for Pellerin’s ring. He had arranged his modest quarters with the reverent53 care of a celebrant awaiting the descent of his deity54. He guessed Pellerin to be unconscious of visual detail, but sensitive to the happy blending of sensuous55 impressions: to the intimate spell of lamplight on books, and of a deep chair placed where one could watch the fire. The chair was there, and Bernald, facing it across the hearth56, already saw it filled by Pellerin’s lounging figure. The autumn dawn came late, and even now they had before them the promise of some untroubled hours. Bernald, sitting there alone in the warm stillness of his room, and in the profounder hush57 of his expectancy58, was conscious of gathering59 up all his sensibilities and perceptions into one exquisitely-adjusted instrument of notation52. Until now he had tasted Pellerin’s society only in unpremeditated snatches, and had always left him with a sense, on his own part, of waste and shortcoming. Now, in the lull60 of this dedicated61 hour, he felt that he should miss nothing, and forget nothing, of the initiation62 that awaited him. And catching63 sight of Pellerin’s pipe, he rose and laid it carefully on a table by the arm-chair.
“No. I’ve never had any news of him,” Bernald heard himself repeating. He spoke64 in a low tone, and with the automatic utterance65 that alone made it possible to say the words.
They were addressed to Miss Fosdick, into whose neighbourhood chance had thrown him at a dinner, a year or so later than their encounter at the Uplift Club. Hitherto he had successfully, and intentionally66, avoided Miss Fosdick, not from any animosity toward that unconscious instrument of fate, but from an intense reluctance67 to pronounce the words which he knew he should have to speak if they met.
Now, as it turned out, his chief surprise was that she should wait so long to make him speak them. All through the dinner she had swept him along on a rapid current of talk which showed no tendency to linger or turn back upon the past. At first he ascribed her reserve to a sense of delicacy68 with which he reproached himself for not having previously69 credited her; then he saw that she had been carried so far beyond the point at which they had last faced each other, that it was by the merest hazard of associated ideas that she was now finally borne back to it. For it appeared that the very next evening, at Mrs. Beecher Bain’s, a Hindu Mahatma was to lecture to the Uplift Club on the Limits of the Subliminal70; and it was owing to no less a person than Howland Wade that this exceptional privilege had been obtained.
“Of course Howland’s known all over the world as the interpreter of Pellerinism, and the Aga Gautch, who had absolutely declined to speak anywhere in public, wrote to Isabella that he could not refuse anything that Mr. Wade asked. Did you know that Howland’s lecture, ‘What Pellerinism Means,’ has been translated into twenty-two languages, and gone into a fifth edition in Icelandic? Why, that reminds me,” Miss Fosdick broke off — “I’ve never heard what became of your queer friend — what was his name? — whom you and Bob Wade accused me of spiriting away after that very lecture. And I’ve never seen you since you rushed into the house the next morning, and dragged me out of bed to know what I’d done with him!”
With a sharp effort Bernald gathered himself together to have it out. “Well, what did you do with him?” he retorted.
She laughed her appreciation71 of his humour. “Just what I told you, of course. I said good-bye to him on Isabella’s door-step.”
Bernald looked at her. “It’s really true, then, that he didn’t go home with you?”
She bantered72 back: “Have you suspected me, all this time, of hiding his remains73 in the cellar?” And with a droop74 of her fine lids she added: “I wish he had come home with me, for he was rather interesting, and there were things I think I could have explained to him.”
Bernald helped himself to a nectarine, and Miss Fosdick continued on a note of amused curiosity: “So you’ve really never had any news of him since that night?”
“No — I’ve never had any news of him.”
“Not the least little message?”
“Not the least little message.”
“Or a rumour75 or report of any kind?”
“Or a rumour or report of any kind.”
Miss Fosdick’s interest seemed to be revived by the strangeness of the case. “It’s rather creepy, isn’t it? What could have happened? You don’t suppose he could have been waylaid76 and murdered?” she asked with brightening eyes.
Bernald shook his head serenely77. “No. I’m sure he’s safe — quite safe.”
“But if you’re sure, you must know something.”
“No. I know nothing,” he repeated.
She scanned him incredulously. “But what’s your theory — for you must have a theory? What in the world can have become of him?”
Bernald returned her look and hesitated. “Do you happen to remember the last thing he said to you — the very last, on the door-step, when he left you?”
“The last thing?” She poised78 her fork above the peach on her plate. “I don’t think he said anything. Oh, yes — when I reminded him that he’d solemnly promised to come back with me and have a little talk he said he couldn’t because he was going home.”
“Well, then, I suppose,” said Bernald, “he went home.”
She glanced at him as if suspecting a trap. “Dear me, how flat! I always inclined to a mysterious murder. But of course you know more of him than you say.”
She began to cut her peach, but paused above a lifted bit to ask, with a renewal79 of animation80 in her expressive81 eyes: “By the way, had you heard that Howland Wade has been gradually getting farther and farther away from Pellerinism? It seems he’s begun to feel that there’s a Positivist element in it which is narrowing to any one who has gone at all deeply into the Wisdom of the East. He was intensely interesting about it the other day, and of course I do see what he feels. . . . Oh, it’s too long to tell you now; but if you could manage to come in to tea some afternoon soon — any day but Wednesday — I should so like to explain — ”
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1
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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docility
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| n.容易教，易驾驶，驯服 | |
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wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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liberated
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| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
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perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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disintegration
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| n.分散，解体 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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purveyor
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| n.承办商，伙食承办商 | |
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trumpeted
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| 大声说出或宣告（trumpet的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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lessening
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| 减轻，减少，变小 | |
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densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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encompassed
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| v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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naturalists
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| n.博物学家( naturalist的名词复数 )；（文学艺术的）自然主义者 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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afflatus
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| n.灵感，神感 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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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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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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elucidation
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| n.说明，阐明 | |
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doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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notation
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| n.记号法，表示法，注释；[计算机]记法 | |
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reverent
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| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
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deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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initiation
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| n.开始 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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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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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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subliminal
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| adj.下意识的，潜意识的；太弱或太快以至于难以觉察的 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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bantered
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| v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的过去式和过去分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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73
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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75
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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76
waylaid
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| v.拦截，拦路( waylay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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78
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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79
renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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80
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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81
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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