There had been mist in the Rhone valley at dawn and wisps of it still hung about the entrance to the Simplon. Weather prophets detected a good omen3 here, and stood before the porch of the hotel to peer down into that unsurpassable ravine and to say that the cluster of black dots immediately below them stood for the church and streets of Sierre. To the right and left were the great clefts4 of the mighty5 chasm6, a vast pit digged by the waters that flowed before man was, and were now sown with towns and villages and the iron links of civilisation7.
The hotel at Andana stands upon the brink8 of the valley at a height of five thousand feet. Immediately facing it upon the farther side are the twin peaks of the Weisshorn with its sheer and glistening9 precipices10, and a little to the right of that, the Rothhorn and the shining glaciers11 which are the windows to that supreme12 escarpment. Look farther to the right across the vast abyss, and you have Sion in the hollow and for your heights the Becs de Bosson—or farther yet, the Aiguilles Rouges13 and all their story of hazard and achievement. These stand up amid countless14 peaks, while from the lesser15 mountains of the Simplon upon the one hand, right away to Mont Blanc upon the other, the eye is spellbound both by the number and the grandeur16 of these dominating summits.
Deep in the valley lies the Rhone, but a thread of silver to those upon the heights. Andana stands high above its right bank, and the mountains behind it, lacking something in variety, are yet incomparable in the delights they afford to the winter sportsman. Here the climber seeks the wider fields of untrodden snows, the gentler valleys and the vanquished17 summits. And here in the woods there is a solitude18 of winter whose charm is not readily to be forgotten.
The "little widow" had slept well after her long journey, and she awoke to the delights of this unfamiliar19 scene just when the clocks were striking nine. Lying a little while to speculate upon the events of the long journey from Egypt and to wonder if any in the hotel would know her, presently her ears became aware of an unusual clatter20 below her window. When she looked out she discovered a party on skis about to set out for a paper chase, and announcing the fact with the boisterous21 spirit of the mountains.
There they were, fathers of families and their sons; generals who had cast off the shackles22 of Whitehall; colonels from India; merchants waxed fat; boys from the universities—all dressed in the once-white sweaters, the short knee-breeches and the regulation boots. Troops of girls and of ladies of uncertain age accompanied them—gliding, sliding, staggering upon the ungainly runners; and thus, in splendid disorder24, the motley march began.
When they were gone, the two young gentlemen who had come up with the party from Sierre yesterday appeared upon the plateau with Miss Bessie Bethune, and having bestowed25 upon her the gift of a few buckets of snow applied26 chiefly to the nape of her neck, began to ask ironically when the "show" would begin.
"Rivers said nine o'clock. I put my three-and-six-penny watch down the back of the customs' man at Pontarlier, so I don't know, but I'll bet it's nearly ten. Beastly shame to keep the cracks waiting. Snagg ought to ask a question in Parliament about it."
To which Dick Fenton replied that Rivers was certainly "a nut" and that they had better go up and crack him—which suggestion, adopted nem. con27., left Miss Bessie to herself for an instant and then to a duologue with the "little widow," whom she espied28 at the window.
"Aren't you coming down to see the races, Mrs. Kennaird?"
"Oh, I hope so; what time do they begin?"
"That's what I want to know. If they don't come down soon, I shall race by myself, and then they'll have to give me a prize. Do come and help me. I'm in a dreadful minority."
"Then I must certainly come to your assistance. Is Mr. Clavering down yet?"
"I haven't seen him; but, of course, we don't want the Church until Sunday. There's no one on the run at all but Benny, and he doesn't count. Have you seen Benny? Then it's a thing to dream about. He lives all by himself in the chalet up there—such a wonderful man, and always going about as though he were looking for his own soul. You'll see him in a minute, for he's just gone up—but I don't suppose he'll come down on the luge—I really can't believe that Benny would be faithful to anything for more than five minutes. And, oh! here's Mr. Kavanagh—I would like to introduce you, for he is such a dear!"
A tall, fair-haired man emerged from the hotel door at the moment, and Miss Bessie immediately took possession of him, to his apparent satisfaction, for they were gossiping like two old women when next the "little widow" saw them. Immediately afterwards, someone shouted "Achtung!" and a figure came flying down the ice-run which finishes at the very door of the hotel. Roughly clad in a grey sweater and check breeches, wearing no hat, and showing a thick crop of black hair, Mr. Benjamin Benson, for it was he, clung to his toboggan wildly, his teeth set and his eyes staring. When at last it flung him violently to the snow, he got up with the smile of a child, and looked at it for many minutes almost reproachfully. Then, patiently and laboriously29 he set out to climb the hill again to have another try.
When he had gone, the "little widow" dressed herself without further delay, and by a quarter to ten she also joined the throng30 before the hotel door, and was immediately recognised by Harry31 Clavering, who told her that the races were about to begin.
"Perhaps you would like to go up with me," he suggested a little nervously32. "I am time-keeper to-day, and I can show you just how it is done. Everyone toboggans here, and you will like to begin as soon as possible. Shall we go now?"
She offered no objection, and they set out at once, climbing steep steps cut in the snow to a little bridge above the final straight of the course. To his question whether she had discovered any friends at Andana, she replied in the negative; but added that Mrs. Allwater and her daughter Pansy were coming on from Caux in a few days' time—"and they," she said, "are very old friends of mine."
When they arrived at the bridge they found quite a concourse of people, that very self-conscious person, Ian Kavanagh, among the number. Hardly had he set eyes on the "little widow" when he begged the parson to introduce him.
"Do you do this sort of thing, Mrs. Kennaird?" he asked her, as he took his stand near by. She answered with a smile that she was quite unaccomplished on the ice.
"Prefer hunting, I suppose? Well, so do I, though what my twenty nags33 are doing just now I won't ask. Eating their heads off, I suppose. Let me get you a seat; this sun takes it out of one, and some of the girls are staggering. You'll want all your courage, I can tell you."
He brought a cane34 chair, and set it upon the high bank so that she could see the toboggans as they passed under the little bridge. Harry Clavering watched all this ceremony with some impatience35, and hastened to cut in before the thing went any farther.
"I think they are wanting you, Mr. Kavanagh, at the starting-post," he said with a smile of entreaty36. "There's no flag there, and we must have one. Would you very much object?"
"I should indeed, but, of course, if you command—" And the man, with a look at the "little widow" which he meant to be unutterable, set out for the unwelcome duty. Then the parson spoke37.
"I don't understand Kavanagh," he said; "no energy at all—so listless—and he is only twenty-seven, I believe. They say he has a large fortune; it really is a great pity if it is true. Young men with much money are dreadfully handicapped in the race for happiness—but there, it is not my business after all, and I have no right to mention it. Can you see quite well, Mrs. Kennaird?—the start is up there, you know, by the little white cottage. I take the time directly the red flag is lowered, and the man at the finish signals to me with his flag when the course is finished. This is what we call an ice-run. They flood the surface every night, and that makes it very fast. These high banks are to guard the corners. If it were flat, they could not get round at all. Some of them are very clever—Mr. Rivers, for instance. He is standing38 over there, just by Lady Coral-Smith—the thin man in the sweater with our Trinity colours."
He babbled39 on as though she had been a child; nor could her ignorance quarrel with the lesson. Not for many a month had she felt so much alive as out here upon the mountain-side, with the valley at her feet and the whited woods above. The sense of vast space and dominion40 delighted her—the merry people; the skaters upon the rink to the right of her; the curlers upon the rink to the left; the sunshine, the feeling that all the men and women in the world had suddenly become children and were at play, combined to suggest an ecstasy41 of repose42 and forgetfulness.
"Tell me, for I am very ignorant," she said, "do two people come down the slide together?"
Harry Clavering was startled.
"We don't call it a slide—an 'ice-run' is the proper name," he said almost apologetically. "There is only room for one runner at a time, as you will see presently. They go so very fast. Why, it's more than a mile from the cottage up there to the door of the hotel, and they do it in a minute and a half! You must watch them as they take the corners; that's the real fun—that's where they generally fall off."
"So we are here to support their miseries43. How very noble of us! And the man with the red flag up on the hillside?"
"He is the starter. Now see, there is young Bob Otway just about to come down."
He was very excited, and watched the starting-box with restless eyes, while she tried to follow him and to trace the serpentine44 course of the run which might have been just a wide stretch of the ice extending from the pine-woods above to the door of the hotel upon the plateau. Half-way down, the track swept suddenly to the right, and then to the left again—and here were the high banks of snow to ease the corners and make them possible at high speeds. The "little widow" had just fallen to a memory of her own girlhood and of the joy such a game would have afforded her before the dark days, when Harry Clavering waved his red flag violently and there was a general shout:
"He's off!"
"Only Bob Otway," said some kindly45 friend in the crowd who was an optimist46. "He's sure to take a toss." And it was a true saying, for Master Bob came at the corner like a bull and was clean up and over it before many realised that he started at all.
"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" exclaimed the old parson, quite as excited as any boy about it. "He should not have taken the bank so high. Poor boy, I hope he has not hurt himself." A comment which provoked a muttered "D——d fool!" from a choleric47 colonel, who had seen the thing done in Canada, and did not believe it possible to do it better in Switzerland. Then a second competitor, Dick Fenton, started, and he came down prettily48 enough, riding low at the banks and getting a splendid course in the final straight. It was quite thrilling to see him, the "little widow" declared; and when Harry Clavering announced the time as one minute thirty-one seconds, she believed that Fenton must have won. Not so the others. "Wait until Rivers has been down," they said. That splendid personage obviously was their pièce de resistance.
Meanwhile, there were "heats" for the ladies, and these found the men a little nearer to the edge of the bank and frankly49 enjoying themselves. Some of the girls rode very well—and, significantly, Marjory Rider, whose name suggested proficiency50, acquitted51 herself with hardly less aplomb52 than her sister Nellie. Tall girls, and excessively thin, it remained for an artist in the background to suggest that they never would have got their living as "models." But they flashed down the ice-run with a bravado53 that was incontestable, and their corners were, in Bob Otway's words, "divine." They were followed by a pretty little girl with a superb figure, who considerately parted company with her toboggan on the second bank and went half-way down the straight with her face to the heights and her back toward the winning post. Even this, however, was capped by a mature lady of forty-three, who rolled over and over at the first turn and had to be helped up the slope with a curler's besom. In no way daunted54, she set out immediately for the summit to repeat a performance so diverting to the company.
The "little widow" found all this new enough to be pleasing, and there was a curious fascination55 in watching this whirring from the heights; while the prone56 figures, the drone of the runners, the leap at the corners, the hard set faces, suggested that conquest of space and time which never fails to be exciting. When they told her that Keith Rivers was about to perform, she craned forward in her chair to see that dashing youth, with his curly brown hair and his frank open face and his contempt of other rivals. He had just left Eton and was going into the army, they told her. And none at Andana could keep pace with him, whether upon skis or skates. To be sure, he rode magnificently, taking the corners with unerring judgment57, and making a sweep into the straight which dazzled the company. When the time was announced—one minute twenty-nine seconds—it seemed that there was nothing for his friends to do but to throw their caps into the air and claim the stakes. None was left in now but Benny, and to think of Mr. Benjamin Benson as the winner of the Grand Prix at Andana was too ridiculous.
Benny had just gone up to the starting-post, a well-made figure of a man enough, with the kindliest eyes in all Switzerland. He walked with the lurch58 of the sailor ashore59; and the chaff60 that followed him was like hail upon a pent-house roof. To Bess Bethune, who asked him if he were going to beat record, he shouted back over his shoulder that he meant to try. It was evident that he had little skill in repartee61; and when anyone wished him luck he took the words as he found them and missed the irony62. To Bob Otway, who recommended him to tie himself on with a rope, he retorted that he would be the better for the loan of a monkey's tail; and quite satisfied with the shot, he went plodding63 on up the hill to the amusement of every superior person in the company.
There was a little delay at the post, for Benny would fall off his toboggan before he got on to it, as the starter declared; and when they did get him going, he leaped high into the air and fell with such a thud upon the cushion of the machine that any other man's bones would have been broken. From that moment his performance became entirely64 astonishing. No one at Andana had ever taken the earlier bends of the course so fast and so furiously, and it seemed quite impossible that he could remain upon the course at all. Benny, however, was a sticker. "Where I drop, there I lie," was one of the maxims65 of his life, and so he lay very close to his toboggan, hugging it as though it were a pretty girl, and never lifting his eyes from a form so attractive. Approaching the corner he began to attain66 a speed which delighted the cognoscenti. Uproarious applause mingled67 with mocking laughter. All said and done, the world likes a butt—and what other role could such a man have filled?
"Stick to it, old chap!" "Hang on, Benjamin!" "Give him his head!" "Now we're jumping!" "Benny's a nut!" "Oh, my hat, see that!" "Hard to starboard, Benjamin!"—such were the cries that were to be heard above the din23 as the rider approached the corner. Here, surely, the gallery believed that this meteoric68 display must terminate. The leap from the second bank to a long straight run carried Benny to the first of the monstrous69 corners, and here he must be unshipped. As the flash of a blackbird against a curtain of the snow, he rushed the straight and struck the great mound70 which defended the bend. People saw him shoot high into the air, then fall again with hands gripping the bars of the runners, and eyes which stared from his head. A great "Oh!" went up, a murmur71 of wonder and amazement72. Someone said that he was round the second bank, but no one believed it until a cry from the final straight turned all eyes thither73, and Benny was espied leaping to the goal. Then the red flag fell. The race was over—and more wonderful to tell, Benny had won it!
No one believed the thing at first. Even Harry Clavering felt very dubious74 about it, and looked at his watch a good many times before daring to announce the result. "One minute twenty-seven and four-fifth seconds," the chronograph said, and, to be sure, it was no good disputing that. So the kindly little man admitted almost apologetically at last that he really believed Mr. Benson had won. Upon which a curious, half-mocking silence fell upon the company. In a way its pride of judgment was hurt, and it had not the manliness75 to say so. That the Grand Prix, the race of the year, should be won by a half-savage sailor-man, who knew no more of the science of the game than a heathen Chinee, was surely an insult to the elect of Andana! And then all the fine talk on the part of men like Ian Kavanagh and Keith Rivers, the attitudes and devotions of the Rider girls, were those to count for nothing? An unspoken resentment76 against the dark horse, who certainly had gone down, left Benny without a cheer. There was only one person in the crowd who spoke an honest word to him, and she was the "little widow."
"I'm so glad you won," she said, meeting him in the veranda77 of the hotel, and quite regardless of the formalities. Benny's eyes lighted up like lamps when he heard her.
"Do you really mean that, Mrs. Kennaird?"
"I mean every word of it. Pride has had many falls to-day. I am not at all sorry."
"Thank you very much," he said; and then, as simply as a boy, he added: "I knew I should do it if I could stick on."
"That's why you won," she rejoined; "because you knew you would," and with a smile that he would never forget she passed on into the hall.
The "little widow" had awarded Benny his prize. He fell there and then to wondering if it were the last he would ever win from her.
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1
broiling
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| adj.酷热的，炽热的，似烧的v.（用火）烤（焙、炙等）( broil的现在分词 )；使卷入争吵；使混乱；被烤（或炙） | |
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bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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4
clefts
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| n.裂缝( cleft的名词复数 )；裂口；cleave的过去式和过去分词；进退维谷 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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8
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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9
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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10
precipices
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| n.悬崖，峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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11
glaciers
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| 冰河，冰川( glacier的名词复数 ) | |
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12
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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13
rouges
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| 胭脂，口红( rouge的名词复数 ) | |
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14
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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15
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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16
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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17
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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18
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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19
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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20
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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21
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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23
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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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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25
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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27
con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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28
espied
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| v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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30
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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31
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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32
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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33
nags
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| n.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的名词复数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的第三人称单数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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34
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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35
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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36
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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37
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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38
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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39
babbled
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| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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40
dominion
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| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
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41
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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42
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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43
miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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44
serpentine
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| adj.蜿蜒的，弯曲的 | |
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45
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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46
optimist
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| n.乐观的人，乐观主义者 | |
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47
choleric
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| adj.易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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48
prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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49
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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50
proficiency
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| n.精通，熟练，精练 | |
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51
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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52
aplomb
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| n.沉着，镇静 | |
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53
bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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54
daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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repartee
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| n.机敏的应答 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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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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maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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meteoric
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| adj.流星的，转瞬即逝的，突然的 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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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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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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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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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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manliness
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| 刚毅 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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