Seen through the haze2 of our cigars, and by the drowsy3 gleam of a coal fire, Culwin’s library, with its oak walls and dark old bindings, made a good setting for such evocations; and ghostly experiences at first hand being, after Murchard’s brilliant opening, the only kind acceptable to us, we proceeded to take stock of our group and tax each member for a contribution. There were eight of us, and seven contrived4, in a manner more or less adequate, to fulfil the condition imposed. It surprised us all to find that we could muster5 such a show of supernatural impressions, for none of us, excepting Murchard himself and young Phil Frenham — whose story was the slightest of the lot — had the habit of sending our souls into the invisible. So that, on the whole, we had every reason to be proud of our seven “exhibits,” and none of us would have dreamed of expecting an eighth from our host.
Our old friend, Mr. Andrew Culwin, who had sat back in his arm-chair, listening and blinking through the smoke circles with the cheerful tolerance6 of a wise old idol7, was not the kind of man likely to be favoured with such contacts, though he had imagination enough to enjoy, without envying, the superior privileges of his guests. By age and by education he belonged to the stout8 Positivist tradition, and his habit of thought had been formed in the days of the epic9 struggle between physics and metaphysics. But he had been, then and always, essentially10 a spectator, a humorous detached observer of the immense muddled11 variety show of life, slipping out of his seat now and then for a brief dip into the convivialities at the back of the house, but never, as far as one knew, showing the least desire to jump on the stage and do a “turn.”
Among his contemporaries there lingered a vague tradition of his having, at a remote period, and in a romantic clime, been wounded in a duel12; but this legend no more tallied13 with what we younger men knew of his character than my mother’s assertion that he had once been “a charming little man with nice eyes” corresponded to any possible reconstitution of his dry thwarted14 physiognomy.
“He never can have looked like anything but a bundle of sticks,” Murchard had once said of him. “Or a phosphorescent log, rather,” some one else amended15; and we recognized the happiness of this description of his small squat16 trunk, with the red blink of the eyes in a face like mottled bark. He had always been possessed17 of a leisure which he had nursed and protected, instead of squandering18 it in vain activities. His carefully guarded hours had been devoted19 to the cultivation20 of a fine intelligence and a few judiciously21 chosen habits; and none of the disturbances22 common to human experience seemed to have crossed his sky. Nevertheless, his dispassionate survey of the universe had not raised his opinion of that costly23 experiment, and his study of the human race seemed to have resulted in the conclusion that all men were superfluous24, and women necessary only because some one had to do the cooking. On the importance of this point his convictions were absolute, and gastronomy25 was the only science which he revered26 as dogma. It must be owned that his little dinners were a strong argument in favour of this view, besides being a reason — though not the main one — for the fidelity27 of his friends.
Mentally he exercised a hospitality less seductive but no less stimulating28. His mind was like a forum29, or some open meeting-place for the exchange of ideas: somewhat cold and draughty, but light, spacious30 and orderly — a kind of academic grove31 from which all the leaves had fallen. In this privileged area a dozen of us were wont32 to stretch our muscles and expand our lungs; and, as if to prolong as much as possible the tradition of what we felt to be a vanishing institution, one or two neophytes were now and then added to our band.
Young Phil Frenham was the last, and the most interesting, of these recruits, and a good example of Murchard’s somewhat morbid33 assertion that our old friend “liked ’em juicy.” It was indeed a fact that Culwin, for all his mental dryness, specially34 tasted the lyric35 qualities in youth. As he was far too good an Epicurean to nip the flowers of soul which he gathered for his garden, his friendship was not a disintegrating36 influence: on the contrary, it forced the young idea to robuster bloom. And in Phil Frenham he had a fine subject for experimentation37. The boy was really intelligent, and the soundness of his nature was like the pure paste under a delicate glaze38. Culwin had fished him out of a thick fog of family dulness, and pulled him up to a peak in Darien; and the adventure hadn’t hurt him a bit. Indeed, the skill with which Culwin had contrived to stimulate39 his curiosities without robbing them of their young bloom of awe40 seemed to me a sufficient answer to Murchard’s ogreish metaphor41. There was nothing hectic42 in Frenham’s efflorescence, and his old friend had not laid even a finger-tip on the sacred stupidities. One wanted no better proof of that than the fact that Frenham still reverenced43 them in Culwin.
“There’s a side of him you fellows don’t see. I believe that story about the duel!” he declared; and it was of the very essence of this belief that it should impel44 him — just as our little party was dispersing45 — to turn back to our host with the absurd demand: “And now you’ve got to tell us about your ghost!”
The outer door had closed on Murchard and the others; only Frenham and I remained; and the vigilant46 servant who presided over Culwin’s destinies, having brought a fresh supply of soda-water, had been laconically47 ordered to bed.
Culwin’s sociability48 was a night-blooming flower, and we knew that he expected the nucleus49 of his group to tighten50 around him after midnight. But Frenham’s appeal seemed to disconcert him comically, and he rose from the chair in which he had just reseated himself after his farewells in the hall.
“My ghost? Do you suppose I’m fool enough to go to the expense of keeping one of my own, when there are so many charming ones in my friends’ closets? — Take another cigar,” he said, revolving51 toward me with a laugh.
Frenham laughed too, pulling up his slender height before the chimney-piece as he turned to face his short bristling52 friend.
“Oh,” he said, “you’d never be content to share if you met one you really liked.”
Culwin had dropped back into his armchair, his shock head embedded53 in its habitual54 hollow, his little eyes glimmering55 over a fresh cigar.
“Liked — liked? Good Lord!” he growled56.
“Ah, you have, then!” Frenham pounced57 on him in the same instant, with a sidewise glance of victory at me; but Culwin cowered58 gnomelike among his cushions, dissembling himself in a protective cloud of smoke.
“What’s the use of denying it? You’ve seen everything, so of course you’ve seen a ghost!” his young friend persisted, talking intrepidly59 into the cloud. “Or, if you haven’t seen one, it’s only because you’ve seen two!”
The form of the challenge seemed to strike our host. He shot his head out of the mist with a queer tortoise-like motion he sometimes had, and blinked approvingly at Frenham.
“Yes,” he suddenly flung at us on a shrill60 jerk of laughter; “it’s only because I’ve seen two!”
The words were so unexpected that they dropped down and down into a fathomless61 silence, while we continued to stare at each other over Culwin’s head, and Culwin stared at his ghosts. At length Frenham, without speaking, threw himself into the chair on the other side of the hearth62, and leaned forward with his listening smile . . .
点击收听单词发音
1 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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2 haze | |
n.霾,烟雾;懵懂,迷糊;vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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3 drowsy | |
adj.昏昏欲睡的,令人发困的 | |
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4 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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5 muster | |
v.集合,收集,鼓起,激起;n.集合,检阅,集合人员,点名册 | |
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6 tolerance | |
n.宽容;容忍,忍受;耐药力;公差 | |
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7 idol | |
n.偶像,红人,宠儿 | |
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9 epic | |
n.史诗,叙事诗;adj.史诗般的,壮丽的 | |
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10 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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11 muddled | |
adj.混乱的;糊涂的;头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱,弄糟( muddle的过去式);使糊涂;对付,混日子 | |
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12 duel | |
n./v.决斗;(双方的)斗争 | |
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13 tallied | |
v.计算,清点( tally的过去式和过去分词 );加标签(或标记)于;(使)符合;(使)吻合 | |
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14 thwarted | |
阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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15 Amended | |
adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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16 squat | |
v.蹲坐,蹲下;n.蹲下;adj.矮胖的,粗矮的 | |
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17 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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18 squandering | |
v.(指钱,财产等)浪费,乱花( squander的现在分词 ) | |
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19 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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20 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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21 judiciously | |
adv.明断地,明智而审慎地 | |
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22 disturbances | |
n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 );打扰;困扰;障碍 | |
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23 costly | |
adj.昂贵的,价值高的,豪华的 | |
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24 superfluous | |
adj.过多的,过剩的,多余的 | |
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25 gastronomy | |
n.美食法;美食学 | |
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26 revered | |
v.崇敬,尊崇,敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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28 stimulating | |
adj.有启发性的,能激发人思考的 | |
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29 forum | |
n.论坛,讨论会 | |
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30 spacious | |
adj.广阔的,宽敞的 | |
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31 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
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32 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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33 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
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34 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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35 lyric | |
n.抒情诗,歌词;adj.抒情的 | |
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36 disintegrating | |
v.(使)破裂[分裂,粉碎],(使)崩溃( disintegrate的现在分词 ) | |
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37 experimentation | |
n.实验,试验,实验法 | |
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38 glaze | |
v.因疲倦、疲劳等指眼睛变得呆滞,毫无表情 | |
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39 stimulate | |
vt.刺激,使兴奋;激励,使…振奋 | |
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40 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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41 metaphor | |
n.隐喻,暗喻 | |
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42 hectic | |
adj.肺病的;消耗热的;发热的;闹哄哄的 | |
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43 reverenced | |
v.尊敬,崇敬( reverence的过去式和过去分词 );敬礼 | |
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44 impel | |
v.推动;激励,迫使 | |
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45 dispersing | |
adj. 分散的 动词disperse的现在分词形式 | |
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46 vigilant | |
adj.警觉的,警戒的,警惕的 | |
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47 laconically | |
adv.简短地,简洁地 | |
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48 sociability | |
n.好交际,社交性,善于交际 | |
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49 nucleus | |
n.核,核心,原子核 | |
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50 tighten | |
v.(使)变紧;(使)绷紧 | |
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51 revolving | |
adj.旋转的,轮转式的;循环的v.(使)旋转( revolve的现在分词 );细想 | |
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52 bristling | |
a.竖立的 | |
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53 embedded | |
a.扎牢的 | |
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54 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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55 glimmering | |
n.微光,隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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56 growled | |
v.(动物)发狺狺声, (雷)作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 );低声咆哮着说 | |
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57 pounced | |
v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 );猛扑;一眼看出;抓住机会(进行抨击) | |
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58 cowered | |
v.畏缩,抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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59 intrepidly | |
adv.无畏地,勇猛地 | |
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60 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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61 fathomless | |
a.深不可测的 | |
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62 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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