Young Levine smiled, and rose to go.
“You are wrong, my pessimistic brother,” he said, fondly laying his hand upon the old man’s shoulder. “You are wrong. Some day the sun of wisdom may shine upon you and you will learn the truth.”
Salvin had been the friend of Levine’s father, and, despite the inequality of their ages, a firm friendship existed between him and the son. He now blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling, and with a smile of amusement gazed at the young man.
218“And what, O Solomon,” he asked, “may the sun of wisdom have taught you?”
Levine’s face lit up.
“The object of life,” he said, speaking swiftly and earnestly, “is love. It begins with love; it ends with love. Without love life has no object. It is, then, mere6 aimless, wondering, puzzling existence during which the mind—like yours—struggles vainly to solve the riddle7 of why and wherefore. But those who have once had the truth pointed8 out to them are never in doubt. To them love explains all. Without love you cannot know life.”
Salvin smiled, and then, as the young man departed, his face grew serious. He sat for a long time plunged9 in deepest thought. Strange memories must have crowded upon him, for his eyes softened10, and the lines of his face relaxed their tension.
But at the end of it he only sighed and shook his head gently and muttered, “It is toil! Not love! Toil!”
Levine, meanwhile, was walking back to his work. He was a compositor in the printing-shop of the 219Jewish Workingman, and it had been his custom, for years, to meet his friend Salvin at the noonday meal in Weiss’s café, where they discussed those problems of life that perplex the minds of thinking men. One problem, Levine felt, had been solved—had been finally and definitely made clear. And the magic had all been worked by Miriam’s eyes—coal-black eyes that now seemed the alpha and omega of all his existence. For Levine, the object of life was Miriam. The sun rose in order that he might look upon her. It set in order that night might bring her sweet repose11.
The seasons—what were they but a varying background against which the panorama12 of love could unfold itself? He toiled—for Miriam. He lived—for Miriam. He thought—always of Miriam. Could there be a simpler explanation of the mysteries of existence? Poor old Salvin! Poor, blind pessimist4! After so much pondering to achieve nothing better than that hopeless creed13! Toil? Yes, but only as a step toward love—as a means toward the higher end. If man were created for toil, then man were doomed14 to everlasting15 animal existence. Whereas love raised him to 220higher planes, transformed him into a higher, nobler being. Could life desire a sublimer16 object?
Levine trod on air. In his workshop the walls, the lights, the papers—all that surrounded him—sang to him of love. The presses chanted the melody of Miriam’s eyes all the livelong day. The very stones in the street seemed to him to sing it: “She is fair! She is fair! She is fair!” and “Love is all! Love is all! Love is all!”
One day they were married. Salvin was there, with a hearty17 clasp of the hand for his friend, and a kiss and a blessing18 for the bride. And laughingly Levine whispered into his ear, “It is love!” But Salvin was stubborn. He smiled and shook his head playfully. But what he whispered in return was, “It is toil!”
They were married, and the universe joined with them in their p?an of love—love that, like the wind, “bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth.”
Do you know that kind of woman whose temperament19 221is like the smiling sunshine? Miriam was one of these. A light, happy heart—a nature that gloried in the joy of existence—ever ready to sing, to smile, to frolic—sympathetic to all woe20, yet realising sorrow only as an external affliction, whose sting she could see, but had never felt—the soul of merriment was Miriam. Her lot in life was an humble21 one; her task had been severe; but through it all that sunshiny nature had served as a shield to ward5 off the blows of life. Once—there was a man. For a few hours Miriam’s brow had puckered22 in deep thought. But the man had been foolish enough to ask for a capitulation—for unconditional23 surrender—ere the battle had been half fought, and Miriam had shaken her head and had passed him by. Then Levine had come. There was a delicate, poetic24 strain in his nature that had immediately appealed to her, and his soft words fell upon willing ears. He had wooed her gently, tenderly, caressingly—in marked contrast to the tempestuous25 courtship that had failed—and he had won. It “bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth!”
222Love’s eyes are keen, and Levine was quick to see the change that slowly came over his wife. He could not have explained it; there was no name for it; it baffled analysis. The first time he spoke26 to her about it she laughed and threw her arms around his neck, saying, “Can’t you see that I am growing older? You cannot expect your wife to remain a silly, giggling27 girl all her life.”
The second time he spoke to her about it she gave the same answer. She did not embrace him, however. And when she had answered him her face became thoughtful. He spoke to her about it a third time. She looked at him a long time before speaking. Then she said, slowly:
“Yes. I feel like a different woman. But I don’t understand it.” He did not offer to kiss her that night, as was his custom, but waited for her to make the first advance. She did not seem to notice the omission28.
He never spoke to her about the matter again. He never kissed her again.
The marvels30 of a woman’s mind, the leaps and bounds of the emotions, the gamut31 of passion upon which her fancy plays and lingers—all these are 223the despair of psychology32. Yet their manifestation33 is sufficiently34 clear. How it came or whence it came, or why it came, even Miriam herself could not tell. But as a flash of lightning on an inky night reveals with vivid clearness what the darkness conceals35, so the sudden revelation that she adored the man whom she had rejected lit up, for a brief moment, the gloom that had fallen upon her heart and laid bare the terrible dreary36 prospect37 of her life. It came like a thunderbolt. She loved him. She had always loved him. He was the lord and master whom her heart craved38. The fire had been smouldering in her heart. Now it leaped into devouring39 flame. He loved her! He had fallen upon his knees and had tried to drag her toward him. He had sworn that his life would be wretched without her. And now that she was married he had thrown all the energies of his heart and soul into incessant40 toil in order that he might forget her. Married? She, the wife of Levine? A cry of despair broke from her lips.
Ah, yes. The lightning flash had passed. But she remembered what its brightness had revealed. She knew now!
224For a long time—for many weeks—she often felt an almost irresistible41 impulse to scream aloud, so that her husband—so that all the world might hear: “I love him! Him only! No one but him.” But the heart learns to bear even agony in silence. Miriam settled down into the monotonous42 groove43 that fate had marked out for her. The revelation that had come to her so suddenly developed into a wall that rose between her and her husband. An invisible wall, yet each felt its presence, and after many ineffectual attempts to surmount44 this barrier, to woo and win her heart anew, Levine abandoned the effort and yielded to despair. She never told him, and he never knew—never even suspected. But after that they lived in different worlds—each equally wretched. For there is only one other lingering misery45 on earth that can compare with the lot of a woman who is married to one man with her heart and soul bound up in another. It is the lot of her husband.
For Miriam there was no consolation46. Her secret was buried in her inmost soul; she was doomed to live out her life brooding over it. During the day she often cried. When her husband 225came home she met him with a calm face—often with a smile—and then they would sit and talk over trivial matters the while that her agony was eating into her heart.
And Levine—the torments47 that he endured were beyond all description! Of a sensitive temperament, yet endowed with a clear, critical, philosophic48 intellect, he sought for an explanation and a remedy in a scrutiny49 of every incident of their married life, in self-analysis, in the keenest introspection, and found nothing but that insurmountable wall. Nothing seemed credible50 or tangible51 save that dull gnawing52 pain in his heart. Once or twice the thought of self-destruction entered his head. Why he thrust it aside he could not say. He was not a coward. The prospect of fighting his way through life with that burden of misery upon his soul possessed53 infinitely54 more terrors for him than the thought of suicide. Nor did he pursue the suggestion sufficiently to come to the conclusion that it was unworthy. It was an alien thought, foreign to his nature, and could find no lodgment. That was all. He lived on and suffered.
226Have you ever heard of Levine, the poet? He is a compositor in the printing-shop of the Jewish Workingman by day—he writes poetry, and, occasionally, short prose articles at night. He is not a genius. He is not a born singer. But his work is strong in its sincerity55, and through it all runs a strain—that world-old strain of pleading—of weakness pleading for strength, of the oppressed pleading for justice. He is not a great poet, but among the readers of the Jewish Workingman, and among the loiterers in the East Side cafés, he is looked upon as a “friend of the masses.” And what they all marvel29 at is his prodigious56 industry. A day’s work in the composing-room of the Jewish Workingman is a task calculated to sap a man’s vitality57 to its last drop. Yet, this task completed, Levine throws himself with feverish58 activity into the composition of verse, and writes, and writes, and writes, until the lamp burns low. Sometimes, when he tires, he pauses to listen to the gentle breathing of his wife, who sleeps in the next room. It acts like a spur upon him; with renewed energy he plunges59 into his work.
The poem which the readers of the Jewish 227Workingman like best of all Levine’s writings is “Phantoms60.” It ends—roughly translated from the Yiddish—like this:
And when the deepening gloom of night descends61
Upon the perilous62 path and towering heights,
And wild storm phantoms crowd each rocky pass—
Love sinks exhausted63, but grim Toil climbs on!
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
pessimist
|
|
| n.悲观者；悲观主义者；厌世 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
ward
|
|
| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
riddle
|
|
| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
panorama
|
|
| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
creed
|
|
| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
sublimer
|
|
| 使高尚者，纯化器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
17
hearty
|
|
| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
blessing
|
|
| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
woe
|
|
| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
puckered
|
|
| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
unconditional
|
|
| adj.无条件的，无限制的，绝对的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
poetic
|
|
| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
tempestuous
|
|
| adj.狂暴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
giggling
|
|
| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
omission
|
|
| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
marvel
|
|
| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
marvels
|
|
| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
gamut
|
|
| n.全音阶，(一领域的)全部知识 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
psychology
|
|
| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
manifestation
|
|
| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
conceals
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
craved
|
|
| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
devouring
|
|
| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
irresistible
|
|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
monotonous
|
|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
groove
|
|
| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
surmount
|
|
| vt.克服；置于…顶上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
torments
|
|
| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
philosophic
|
|
| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
scrutiny
|
|
| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
credible
|
|
| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
tangible
|
|
| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
gnawing
|
|
| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
prodigious
|
|
| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
vitality
|
|
| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
plunges
|
|
| n.跳进，投入vt.使投入，使插入，使陷入vi.投入，跳进，陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
phantoms
|
|
| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
descends
|
|
| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
perilous
|
|
| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |