Then they would tap their foreheads significantly and shake their heads. He had come from a hamlet in Bessarabia—a hamlet so small that you would not find it on any map, even if you could pronounce the name. The whole population of the hamlet did not exceed three hundred souls, of whom all but three or four families were Christians1. And these Christians had risen, one day, and had fallen upon the Jews. Scharenstein’s wife was stabbed through the heart, and his son, his brown-eyed little boy, was burned with the house. Upon Scharenstein’s breast, as a reminder2 of an old historical episode, they hacked3 a crude sign of a cross; then they let him go, and Scharenstein in some way—no one ever knew how—found his way to this country. When the ship came into the harbour 260he asked a sailor what that majestic4 figure was that held aloft the shining light whose rays lit up the wide stretch of the bay. They told him it was the statue of Liberty Enlightening the World.
“It is good,” he said.
He found work in a sweatshop. An immigrant from a neighbouring hamlet came over later and told the story, but when they came to Scharenstein with sympathy he only laughed.
“He is queer,” they said.
In all that shop none other worked as diligently5 as Scharenstein. He was the first to arrive, and the last to leave, and through all the day he worked cheerfully, almost merrily, often humming old airs that his fellow-workers had not heard for many years. And a man who worked harder than his fellows in a sweatshop must surely have been queer, for in those days the sweatshop was a place where the bodies and souls of men and women writhed7 through hour after hour of torment8 and misery9, until, in sheer exhaustion10, they became numb11. Scharenstein went through all this with a smile on his lips, and even on the hottest day, when 261there came a few moments’ respite12, he would keep treading away at his machine and sing while the others were gasping14 for breath. And at night, when the work was done, and the weary toilers dragged themselves home and flung themselves upon their dreary15 beds, Scharenstein would trudge16 all the way down to the Battery and stand for hours gazing at the statue of Liberty Enlightening the World. And as he gazed, the tense lines of his face would relax, and a bright light would come into his eyes, perhaps a tear would trickle17 down his cheek. Then, after holding out both arms in a yearning18 farewell, he would turn and walk slowly homeward.
There was one day—it was in summer, when the thermometer stood at ninety-five in the shade—that the burden of life seemed too heavy to be borne. The air of the sweatshop was damp from the wet cloth, and hot from the big stove upon which the irons were heating. The machines were roaring and clicking in a deafening19 din13, above which, every now and then, rose a loud hissing20 sound as a red-hot goose was plunged21 into a tub of water. The dampness and heat seemed to permeate22 262everything; the machines were hot to the touch. Men sat stripped to their undershirts, the perspiration23 pouring from them. The sweater sat as far from the stove as he could get, figuring his accounts and frowning. The cost of labour was too high. Suddenly Marna, the pale, fat old woman who sat at a machine close by the ironers, spat24 upon the floor and cried:
“A curse on a world like this!”
Some looked up in surprise, for Marna rarely spoke25, but the most of them went on without heeding26 her until they heard the voice of Scharenstein with an intonation27 that was new to them.
“Right, Marna,” he said. “A terrible world. A terrible world it is. Ho! ho! ho!”
They all looked at him. He was smiling, and turning around to look from face to face. Then, still smiling and speaking slowly and hesitatingly, as if he found it hard to select the right word, he went on:
“An awful world. They come and take the woman—hold her down under their knees—hold her throat tight in their fingers—like I hold this cloth—tight—and stick a dagger28 into her heart. 263And they set fire to the house—to the big house—all the smoke comes out of the windows—and flames—bigger and hotter than in the stove there—oh, terrible flames!—and the little boy’s face comes to the window—and they all laugh. Ho! ho! ho! Then the whole house falls in—and the little boy’s face disappears—and oh, how high the flames go up!”
He looked around him, smiling. A chill struck the heart of every one of his hearers. He shook his head slowly and said to Marna:
“Right, Marna! It is a terrible world.”
The sweater was busy with his accounts and had not heard. But the sudden cessation of work made him look up, and hearing Scharenstein address the woman, and seeing others looking at her, he turned upon Marna.
“Confound it! Is this a time to be idling? Stop your chattering29 and back to work. We must finish everything before——”
There was something harsh and grating in his voice that seemed to electrify30 Scharenstein. Dropping his work, he sprang between the sweater and Marna and held out his arms beseechingly31.
264“Oh, spare her! For God’s sake spare her! She is an innocent woman! She has done you no harm!”
And as he stood with outstretched arms, his shirt fell open, and every eye saw plainly upon his breast the red sign of a crude cross. The sweater fell back in amazement32. Then a sudden light dawned upon him, and, in an altered tone, he said: “Very well. I will do her no harm. Sit down, my friend. You need not work to-day if you are not feeling well. I will get someone to take your place, and—and—” (it required a heroic effort) “you will not lose the day’s pay. You had better go home.”
Scharenstein smiled and thanked the sweater. Then he started down the stairs. Marna followed him, and with her arm around him helped him down the steps.
“My little boy is playing in the street,” she said. “Why don’t you take him for a walk to the park where you took him before? It will do you good, and he will be company for you.”
Scharenstein’s face lit up with pleasure. Marna’s little boy had frequently accompanied 265him on his walks to the Battery, and to see the little fellow romping33 about and hear him screaming with delight at the harbour sights had filled Scharenstein’s heart with exquisite34 pleasure. He now sought the boy. He found him playing with his companions, all of them running like mad through all that fierce heat.
“Boy!” cried Scharenstein. “Look!” The boy turned and saw Scharenstein standing35 erect36 with one arm held straight over his head, the other clasped against his breast as though he were hugging something—the attitude of the statue of Liberty Enlightening the World. With a shout of delight he ran toward his friend, crying, “Take me with you!” And hand in hand they walked down to the sea-wall.
The boy watched the ships. Scharenstein, seated in the shade of a tree, feasted his eyes upon that graceful37 bronze figure that stood so lonely, so pensive38, yet held aloft so joyfully39 its hopeful emblem40.
He sat like one entranced, and now and then his lips would move as though he were struggling to utter some of the vague thoughts that were floating 266in his brain. His face, however, was serene41, and his whole frame was relaxed in a delightful42, restful abandon.
The boy played and ran about, and asked Scharenstein for pennies to buy fruit, and slowly the hours slipped by. As the sun sank, and the coolness of night succeeded the painful heat of the afternoon, Scharenstein moved from his seat and stood as close to the water’s edge as he could. Then it grew dark, and the boy came and leaned wearily against him.
“I am tired,” he said. “Let us go home now.”
Scharenstein took the little fellow in his arms and perched him upon one of the stone posts.
“Soon, boy,” he said. “Soon we will go. But let us wait to see the statue light her torch.”
They gazed out into the gathering43 darkness. Scharenstein’s hand caressed44 the boy’s curly hair; the little head rested peacefully against his breast,—against the livid cross that throbbed45 under his shirt,—and the pressure stirred tumultuous memories within him.
“You are a fine boy,” he said. “But you are not my boy.”
267“I’m mamma’s boy,” murmured the lad, drowsily46.
“Yes. Very true. Very true. You are mamma’s boy. But I have a little boy, and—dear me!—I forgot all about him.”
“Where is he?” asked the boy.
“Out there,” answered Scharenstein, pointing to the dim outlines of the statue of Liberty Enlightening the World. “She is keeping him for me! But listen!” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “When I see him again I will ask him to come and play with you. He often used to play with me. He can run and sing, and he plays just like a sweet little angel. Oh, look!”
The bright electric light flashed from the statue’s torch, lighting47 up the vast harbour with all its shipping48, lighting up the little head that rested against Scharenstein’s breast, and lighting up Scharenstein’s face, now drawn49 and twitching50 convulsively.
“Do you see him?” he whispered hoarsely51. “Boy! Do you see my little boy out there? He has big brown eyes. Do you see him? He is my only boy. He wants me. He is calling me. 268Wait here, boy. I will go out and bring him to you. He will play with you. He loves to play.”
Gently he lowered his little companion from the post and carried him to a bench.
“Wait here, boy,” he said. “I will soon be back.”
In sleepy wonderment the little fellow watched Scharenstein take off his hat and coat and climb over the chain. The moment he disappeared from view the little fellow became thoroughly52 awake and ran forward to the sea-wall. Scharenstein was swimming clumsily, fiercely out into the bay.
“Come back!” cried the boy. “Come back!”
He heard Scharenstein’s voice faintly, “I am coming.” Then again, more faintly still, “I am coming.” Then all became silent except the lapping of the waves against the sea-wall, and the boy began to cry.
It was fully6 an hour before the alarm was given and a boat lowered, but of Scharenstein they found no trace. The harbour waters are swift, and the currents sweep twistingly in many directions. 269The harbour clings tenaciously53 to its dead—gives them up only with reluctance54 and after many days. And the statue of Liberty Enlightening the World looks down upon the search and holds out hope. But it gives no help.
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1
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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hacked
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| 生气 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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trudge
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| v.步履艰难地走；n.跋涉，费力艰难的步行 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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20
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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permeate
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| v.弥漫，遍布，散布；渗入，渗透 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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25
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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26
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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28
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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29
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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30
electrify
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| v.使充电；使电气化；使触电；使震惊；使兴奋 | |
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beseechingly
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| adv. 恳求地 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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romping
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| adj.嬉戏喧闹的，乱蹦乱闹的v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的现在分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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34
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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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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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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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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41
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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42
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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43
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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44
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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46
drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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47
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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48
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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49
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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50
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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51
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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52
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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53
tenaciously
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| 坚持地 | |
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54
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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