It was with this feeling strong in his mind, and affecting his temper as nothing else does to such a degree, that he hastened along the street towards the rooms occupied by Captain Underwood, a personage whom the ladies of Sloebury were unanimous in disliking. Nobody knew exactly where it was that he got his military title. He did not belong to any regiment25 in her Majesty’s service. He had not even the humble26 claim of a militia27 officer; yet nobody dared say that there was anything fictitious28 about him, or stigmatise the captain as an impostor. Other captains and colonels and men-at-arms of undoubted character supported his claims; he belonged to one or two well-known clubs. An angry woman would sometimes fling an insult at him when her husband or son came home penniless after an evening in his company, wondering what they could see in an under-bred fellow who was no more a captain (she would say in her wrath) than she was; but of these assertions there was no proof, and the vehemence29 of them naturally made the captain’s partisans30 more and more eager in his favour. He had not been above six months in Sloebury, but everybody knew him. There was scarcely an evening in which half-a-dozen men did not congregate31 in his rooms, drawn32 together by that strange attraction which makes people meet who do not care in the least for each other’s company, nor have anything to say to each other, yet are possibly less vacant in society than when alone, or find the murmur33 of many voices, the smoke of many cigars, exhilarating and agreeable. It was not every evening that the cards were produced. The captain was wary34; he frightened nobody; he did not wish to give occasion to the tremors35 of the ladies, whom he would have conciliated even, if he had been able; but there are men against whom the instinct of all women rises, as there are women from whom all men turn. It was only now and then that he permitted play. He spoke36 indeed strongly against it on many occasions. “What do you want with cards?” he would say. “A good cigar and a friend to talk to ought to be enough for any man.” But twice or thrice in a week his scruples37 would give way. He was a tall, well-formed man, of an uncertain age, with burning hazel eyes, and a scar on his forehead got in that mysterious service to which now and then he made allusion38, and which his friends concluded must have been in some foreign legion, or with Garibaldi, or some other irregular warfare39. There were some who thought him a man, old for his age, of thirty-five, and some who, concluding him young for his age, and well preserved, credited him with twenty years more; but thirty-five or fifty-five, whichever it was, he was erect40 and strong, and well set up, and possessed41 an amount of experience and apparent knowledge of the world, at which the striplings of Sloebury admired and wondered, and which even the older men respected, as men in the country respect the mention of great names and incidents that have become historical. He had a way of recommending himself even to the serious, and would now and then break forth42, as if reluctantly, into an account of some instance of faith or patience on the battlefield or the hospital which made even the rector declare that to consider Underwood as an irreligious man was both unjust and unkind. So strong was the prejudice of the women, however, that Mrs. Wynn, always charitable, and whose silent protest was generally only made when the absent were blamed, shook her head at this testimony43 borne in favour of the Captain. She had no son to be led away, and her husband it need not be said, considering his position, was invulnerable; but with all her charity she could not believe in the religion of Captain Underwood. His rooms were very nice rooms in the best street in Sloebury, and if his society was what is called “mixed,” yet the best people were occasionally to be met there, as well as those who were not the best.
There was a little stir in the company when Walter entered. To tell the truth, notwithstanding the wild mirth and dissipation which the ladies believed to go on in Captain Underwood’s rooms, the society assembled there was at the moment dull and in want of a sensation. There had not been anything said for the course of two minutes at least. There was no play going on, and the solemn puff45 of smoke from one pair of lips after another would have been the height of monotony had it not been the wildest fun and gratification. The men in the room took pipes and cigars out of their mouths to welcome the new-comer. “Hallo, Walter!” they all said in different tones; for in Sloebury the use of Christian46 names was universal, everybody having known everybody else since the moment of their birth.
“Here comes Methven,” said the owner of the rooms (it was one of his charms, in the eyes of the younger men, that he was not addicted47 to this familiarity), “in the odour of sanctity. It will do us all good to have an account of the rector’s party. How did you leave the old ladies, my excellent boy?”
“Stole away like the fox, by Jove,” said the hunting man, who was the pride of Sloebury.
“More like the mouse with the old cats after it,” said another wit.
Now Walter had come in among them strong in his sense of right and in his sense of wrong, feeling himself at the same moment a sorry fool and an injured hero, a sufferer for the rights of man; and it would have been of great use to him in both these respects to have felt himself step into a superior atmosphere, into the heat of a political discussion, or even into noisy amusement, or the passion of play—anything which would rouse the spirits and energies, and show the action of a larger life. But to feel his own arrival a sort of godsend in the dulness, and to hear nothing but the heavy puff of all the smoke, and the very poor wit with which he was received, was sadly disconcerting, and made him more and more angry with himself and the circumstances which would give him no sort of support or comfort.
“The old ladies,” he said, “were rather more lively than you fellows. You look as if you had all been poisoned in your wine, like the men in the opera, and expected the wall to open and the monks48 and the coffins49 to come in.”
“I knew that Methven would bring us some excellent lesson,” said Captain Underwood. “Remember that we have all to die. Think, my friends, upon your latter end.”
“Jump up here and give us a sermon, Wat.”
“Don’t tease him, he’s dangerous.”
“The old ladies have been too much for him.”
This went on till Walter had settled down into his place, and lighted his pipe like the rest. He looked upon them with disenchanted eyes; not that he had ever entertained any very exalted50 opinion of his company; but to-night he was out of sympathy with all his surroundings, and he felt it almost a personal offence that there should be so little to attract and excite in this manly51 circle which thought so much more of itself than of any other, and was so scornful of the old ladies who after all were not old ladies: but the graver members of the community in general, with an ornamental52 adjunct of young womankind. On ordinary occasions no doubt Walter would have chimed in with the rest, but to-night he was dissatisfied and miserable53, not sure of any sensation in particular, but one of scorn and distaste for his surroundings. He would have felt this in almost any conceivable case, but in the midst of this poor jesting and would-be wit, the effect was doubled. Was it worth while for this to waste his time, to offend the opinion of all his friends? Such thoughts must always come in similar circumstances. Even in the most brilliant revelry there will be a pause, a survey of the position, a sense, however unwilling54 that the game is not worth the candle. But here! They were all as dull as ditch water, he said to himself. Separately there was scarcely one whom he would have selected as an agreeable companion, and was it possible by joining many dulnesses together to produce a brilliant result? There was no doubt that Walter’s judgment55 was jaundiced that evening; for he was not by any means so contemptuous of his friends on ordinary occasions; but he had been eager to find an excuse for himself, to be able to say that here was real life and genial56 society in place of the affected57 solemnity of the proper people. When he found himself unable to do this, he was struck as by a personal grievance58, and sat moody59 and abstracted, bringing a chill upon everybody, till one by one the boon60 companions strolled away.
“A pretty set of fellows to talk of dulness,” he cried, with a little burst, “as if they were not dull beyond all description themselves.”
“Come, Methven, you are out of temper,” said Captain Underwood. “They are good fellows enough when you are in the vein61 for them. Something has put you out of joint62.”
“Nothing at all,” cried Walter, “except the sight of you all sitting as solemn as owls63 pretending to enjoy yourselves. At the rectory one yawned indeed, it was the genius of the place—but to hear all those dull dogs laughing at that, as if they were not a few degrees worse! Is there nothing but dulness in life? Is everything the same—one way or another—and nothing to show for it all, when it is over, but tediousness and discontent?”
Underwood looked at him keenly with his fiery64 eyes.
“So you’ve come to that already, have you?” he said. “I thought you were too young and foolish.”
“I am not so young as not to know that I am behaving like an idiot,” Walter said. Perhaps he had a little hope of being contradicted and brought back to his own esteem65.
But instead of this, Captain Underwood only looked at him again and laughed.
“I know,” he said: “the conscience has its tremors, especially after an evening at the rectory. You see how well respectability looks, how comfortable it is.”
“I do nothing of the sort,” Walter cried indignantly. “I see how dull you are, you people who scoff66 at respectability, and I begin to wonder whether it is not better to be dull and thrive than to be dull and perish. They seem much the same thing so far as enjoyment67 goes.”
“You want excitement,” said the other carelessly. “I allow there is not much of that here.”
“I want something,” cried Walter. “Cards even are better than nothing. I want to feel that I have blood in my veins68.”
“My dear boy, all that is easily explained. You want money. Money is the thing that mounts the blood in the veins. With money you can have as much excitement, as much movement as you like. Let people say what they please, there is nothing else that does it,” said the man of experience. He took a choice cigar leisurely69 from his case as he spoke. “A bit of a country town like this, what can you expect from it? There is no go in them. They risk a shilling, and go away frightened if they lose. If they don’t go to church on Sunday they feel all the remorse70 of a villain71 in a play. It’s all petty here—everything’s petty, both the vices72 and the virtues73. I don’t wonder you find it slow. What I find it, I needn’t say.”
“Why do you stop here, then?” said Walter, not unnaturally74, with a momentary75 stare of surprise. Then he resumed, being full of his own subject. “I know I’m an ass,” he said. “I loaf about here doing nothing when I ought to be at work. I don’t know why I do it; but neither do I know how to get out of it. You, that’s quite another thing. You have no call to stay. I wonder you do: why do you? If I were as free as you, I should be off—before another day.”
“Come along then,” said Underwood, good-humouredly. “I’ll go if you’ll go.”
At this Walter shook his head.
“I have no money you know. I ought to be in an office or doing something. I can’t go off to shoot here or fish there, like you.”
“By and by—by and by. You have time enough to wait.”
Walter gave him a look of surprise.
“There is nothing to wait for,” he said. “Is that why you have said so many things to me about seeing life? I have nothing. We’ve got no money in the family. I may wait till doomsday, but it will do nothing for me.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” said Underwood. “Oh, you needn’t devour76 me with your eyes. I know nothing of your family affairs. I suppose of course that by and by, in the course of nature——”
“You mean,” said Walter, turning pale, “when my mother dies. No, I’m not such a wretched cad as that: if I didn’t know I should get next to nothing then, I——” (His conscience nearly tripped this young man up, running into his way so hurriedly that he caught his foot unawares.) Then he stopped and grew red, staring at his companion. “Most of what she has dies with her, if that’s what you’re thinking of. There is nothing in that to build upon. And I’m glad of it,” the young man cried.
“I beg your pardon, Methven,” said the other. “But it needn’t be that; there are other ways of getting rich.”
“I don’t know any of them, unless by work: and how am I to work? It is so easy to speak. What can I work at? and where am I to get it?—there is the question. I hear enough on that subject—as if I were a tailor or a shoemaker that could find something to do at any corner. There is no reason in it,” the young man said, so hotly, and with such a flush of resentful obstinacy77, that the fervour of his speech betrayed him. He was like a man who had outrun himself, and paused, out of breath.
“You’ll see; something will turn up,” said Underwood, with a laugh.
“What can turn up?—nothing. Suppose I go to New Zealand and come back at fifty with my fortune made—Fifty’s just the age, isn’t it, to begin to enjoy yourself,” cried Walter, scornfully; “when you have not a tooth left, nor a faculty perfect?” He was so young that the half-century appeared to him like the age of Methusaleh, and men who lived to that period as having outlived all that is worth living for. His mentor78 laughed a little uneasily, as if he had been touched by this chance shot.
“It is not such a terrible age after all,” he said. “A man can still enjoy himself when he is fifty; but I grant you that at twenty-four it’s a long time to wait for your pleasure. However, let us hope something will turn up before then. Supposing, for the sake of argument, you were to come in to your fortune more speedily, I wonder what you would do with it—eh? you are such a terrible fellow for excitement. The turf?”
“All that is folly,” said Walter, getting up abruptly80. “Nothing more, thanks. I am coming in to no fortune. And you don’t understand me a bit,” he said, turning at the door of the room, to look back upon the scene where he had himself spent so many hours, made piquant81 by a sense of that wrongdoing which supplies excitement when other motives82 fail. The chairs standing44 about as their occupants had thrust them away from the table, the empty glasses upon it, the disorder83 of the room, struck him with a certain sense of disgust. It was a room intended by nature to be orderly and sober, with heavy country-town furniture, and nothing about it that could throw any grace on disarray84. The master of the place stood against the table swaying a somewhat heavy figure over it, and gazing at the young man with his fiery eyes. Walter’s rudeness did not please him, any more than his abrupt79 withdrawal85.
“Don’t be too sure of that,” he said, with an effort to retain his good-humoured aspect. “If I don’t understand you, I should like to know who does? and when that fortune comes, you will remember what I say.”
“Pshaw!” Walter cried, impatiently turning away. A nod of his head was all the good-night he gave. He hurried down as he had hurried up, still as little contented86, as full of dissatisfaction as when he came. This man who thought he understood him, who intended to influence him, revolted the young man’s uneasy sense of independence, as much as did the bond of more lawful87 authority. Did Underwood, too, think him a child not able to guide himself? It was very late by this time, and the streets very silent. He walked quickly home through the wintry darkness of November, with a mind as thoroughly88 out of tune3 as it is possible to imagine. He had gone to Underwood’s in the hot impulse of opposition, with the hope of getting rid temporarily, at least, of the struggle within him; but he had not got rid of it. The dull jokes of the assembled company had only made the raging of the inward storm more sensible, and the jaunty89 and presumptuous90 misconception with which his host received his involuntary confidences afterwards, had aggravated91 instead of soothing92 his mind. Indeed, Underwood’s pretence93 at knowing all about it, his guesses and attempts to sound his companion’s mind, and the blundering interpretation94 of it into which he stumbled, filled Walter with double indignation and disgust. This man too he had thought much of, and expected superior intelligence from—and all that he had to say was an idiotic95 anticipation96 of some miraculous97 coming into a fortune which Walter was aware was as likely to happen to the beggar on the streets as to himself. He had been angry with nature and his mother when he left her door; he was angry with everybody when he returned to it, though his chief anger of all, and the root of all the others, was that anger with himself, which burnt within his veins, and which is the hardest of all others to quench98 out.
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1
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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2
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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3
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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4
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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7
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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8
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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9
justifying
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| 证明…有理( justify的现在分词 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
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10
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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11
inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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13
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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16
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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17
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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18
reminders
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| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
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19
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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22
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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24
hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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26
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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27
militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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28
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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30
partisans
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| 游击队员( partisan的名词复数 )； 党人； 党羽； 帮伙 | |
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31
congregate
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| v.(使)集合，聚集 | |
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32
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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tremors
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| 震颤( tremor的名词复数 )； 战栗； 震颤声； 大地的轻微震动 | |
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36
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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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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40
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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41
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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42
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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43
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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44
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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45
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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46
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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47
addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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48
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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49
coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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50
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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51
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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52
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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53
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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54
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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55
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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56
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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57
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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58
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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59
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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60
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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61
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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62
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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owls
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| n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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mentor
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| n.指导者，良师益友；v.指导 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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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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disarray
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| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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presumptuous
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| adj.胆大妄为的，放肆的，冒昧的，冒失的 | |
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aggravated
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| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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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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quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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