‘By George, Sprats!’ he said, standing12 still and staring at her as if he had never seen her before, ‘what an awful thing poverty must be! Did that ever strike you?’
‘Often,’ answered Sprats, with laconic13 alacrity14, ‘as{127} it might have struck you, too, if you’d kept your eyes open.’
‘I am supposed to have excellent powers of observation,’ he said musingly15, ‘but somehow I don’t think I ever quite realised what poverty meant until to-night. I wonder what it would be like to try it for a while—to go without money and food and have no hope?—but, of course, one couldn’t do it—one would always know that one could go back to one’s usual habits, and so on. It would only be playing at being poor. I wonder, now, where the exact line would be drawn16 between the end of hope and the beginning of despair?—that’s an awfully17 interesting subject, and one that I should like to follow up. Don’t you think——’
‘Lucian,’ said Sprats, interrupting him without ceremony, ‘are we going to stand here at the street corner all night while you moon about abstract questions? Because if you are, I’m not.’
Lucian came out of his reverie and examined his surroundings. He had come to a halt at a point where the Essex Road is transected by the New North Road, and he gazed about him with the expression of a traveller who has wandered into strange regions.
‘This is a quarter of the town which I do not know,’ he said. ‘Not very attractive, is it? Let us walk on to those lights—I suppose we can find a hansom there, and then we can get back to civilisation18.’
They walked forward in the direction of Islington High Street: round about the Angel there was life and animation19 and a plenitude of bright light; Lucian grew interested, and finally asked a policeman what part of the town he found himself in. On hearing that that was Islington he was immediately reminded of the ‘Bailiff’s Daughter’ and began to recall lines of it. But Islington and old ballads20 were suddenly driven quite out of his thoughts by an object which had no apparent connection with poetry.
Sprats, keeping her eyes open for a hansom, suddenly missed Lucian from her side, and turned to find him{128} gazing at the windows of a little café-restaurant with an Italian name over its door and a suspicion of Continental21 cookery about it. She turned back to him: he looked at her as a boy might look whose elder sister catches him gazing into the pastry-cook’s window.
‘I say, Sprats,’ he said coaxingly22, ‘let’s go in there and have supper. It’s clean, and I’ve suddenly turned faint—I’ve had nothing since lunch. Dinner will be all over now at home, and besides, we’re miles away. I’ve been in these places before—they’re all right, really, something like the ristoranti in Italy, you know.’
Sprats was hungry too. She glanced at the little café—it appeared to be clean enough to warrant one in eating, at any rate, a chop in it.
‘I think I should like some food,’ she said.
‘Come on, then,’ said Lucian gaily23. ‘Let’s see what sort of place it is.’
He pushed open the swinging doors and entered. It was a small place, newly established, and the proprietor24 and his wife, two Italians, and their Swiss waiter were glad to see customers who looked as if they would need something more than a cup of coffee and a roll and butter. The proprietor bowed himself double and ushered25 them to the most comfortable corner in his establishment: he produced a lengthy26 menu and handed it to Lucian with great empressement; the waiter stood near, deeply interested; the proprietor’s wife, gracious of figure and round of face, leaned over the counter thinking of the coins which she would eventually deposit in her cash drawer. Lucian addressed the proprietor in Italian and discussed the menu with him; while they talked, Sprats looked about her, wondering at the red plush seats, the great mirrors in their gilded27 frames, and the jars of various fruits and conserves28 arranged on the counter. Every table was adorned29 with a flowering plant fashioned out of crinkled paper; the ceiling was picked out in white and gold; the Swiss waiter’s apron30 and napkin were very stiffly starched31; the proprietor wore a frock coat, which fitted very tightly at the waist,{129} and his wife’s gown was of a great smartness. Sprats decided32 that they were early customers in the history of the establishment—besides themselves there were only three people in the place: an old gentleman with a napkin tucked into his neckband, who was eating his dinner and reading a newspaper propped33 up against a bottle, and a pair of obvious lovers who were drinking café-au-lait in a quiet corner to the accompaniment of their own murmurs34.
‘I had no idea that I was so hungry,’ said Lucian when he and the proprietor had finally settled upon what was best to eat and drink. ‘I am glad I saw this place: it reminds me in some ways of Italy. I say, I don’t believe those poor people had had much to eat to-day, Sprats—it is a most fortunate thing that I happened to hear of them. My God! I wouldn’t like to get down to that stage—it must be dreadful, especially when there are children.’
Sprats leaned her elbows on the little table, propped her chin in her hands, and looked at him with a curious expression which he did not understand. A half-dreamy, half-speculative35 look came into her eyes.
‘I wonder what you would do if you did get down to that stage?’ she said, with a rather quizzical smile.
Lucian stared at her.
‘I? Why, what do you mean?’ he said. ‘I suppose I should do as other men do.’
‘It would be for the first time in your life, then,’ she answered. ‘I fancy seeing you do as other men do in any circumstances.’
‘But I don’t think I could conceive myself at such a low ebb36 as that,’ he said.
Sprats still stared at him with a speculative expression.
‘Lucian,’ she said suddenly, ‘do you ever think about the future? Everything has been made easy for you so far; does it ever strike you that fortune is in very truth a fickle37 jade38, and that she might desert you?’{130}
He looked at her as a child looks who is requested to face an unpleasant contingency39.
‘I don’t think of unpleasant things,’ he answered. ‘What’s the good? And why imagine possibilities which aren’t probabilities? There is no indication that fortune is going to desert me.’
‘No,’ said Sprats, ‘but she might, and very suddenly too. Look here, Lucian; I’ve the right to play grandmother always, haven’t I, and there’s something I want to put before you plainly. Don’t you think you are living rather carelessly and extravagantly40?’
Lucian knitted his brows and stared at her.
‘Explain,’ he said.
‘Well,’ she continued, ‘I don’t think it wants much explanation. You don’t bother much about money matters, do you?’
He looked at her somewhat pityingly.
‘How can I do that and attend to my work?’ he asked. ‘I could not possibly be pestered41 with things of that sort.’
‘Very well,’ said Sprats, ‘and Haidee doesn’t bother about them either. Therefore, no one bothers. I know your plan, Lucian—it’s charmingly simple. When Lord Simonstower left you that ten thousand pounds you paid it into a bank, didn’t you, and to it you afterwards added Haidee’s two thousand when you were married. Twice a year Mr. Robertson pays your royalties42 into your account, and the royalties from your tragedy go to swell43 it as well. That’s one side of the ledger44. On the other side you and Haidee each have a cheque-book, and you draw cheques as you please and for what you please. That’s all so, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ answered Lucian, regarding her with amazement45, ‘of course it is; but just think what a very simple arrangement it is.’
‘Admirably simple,’ Sprats replied, laughing, ‘so long as there is an inexhaustible fund to draw upon. But seriously, Lucian, haven’t you been drawing on{131} your capital? Do you know, at this moment, what you are worth?—do you know how you stand?’
‘I don’t suppose that I do,’ he answered. ‘But why all this questioning? I know that Robertson pays a good deal into my account twice a year, and the royalties from the tragedy were big, you know.’
‘But still, Lucian, you’ve drawn off your capital,’ she urged. ‘You have spent just what you pleased ever since you left Oxford46, and Haidee spends what she pleases. You must have spent a lot on your Italian tour last year, and you are continually running over to Paris. You keep up an expensive establishment; you indulge expensive tastes; you were born, my dear Lucian, with the instincts of an epicure47 in everything.’
‘And yet I am enjoying a supper in an obscure little café!’ he exclaimed laughingly. ‘There’s not much extravagance here.’
‘You may gratify epicurean tastes by a sudden whim48 to be Spartan-like,’ answered Sprats. ‘I say that you have the instincts of an epicure, and you have so far gratified them. You’ve never known what it was, Lucian, to be refused anything, have you? No: well, that naturally inclines you to the opinion that everything will always be made easy for you. Now supposing you lost your vogue49 as a poet—oh, there’s nothing impossible about it, my dear boy!—the public are as fickle as fortune herself—and supposing your next tragedy does not catch the popular taste—ah, and that’s not impossible either—what are you going to do? Because, Lucian, you must have dipped pretty heavily into your capital, and if you want some plain truths from your faithful Sprats, you spend a great deal more than you earn. Now give me another potato, and tell me plainly if you know how much your royalties amounted to last year and how much you and Haidee spent.’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Lucian. ‘I could tell by asking my bankers. Of course I have spent a good deal of money in travel, and in books, and in pictures, and in furnishing a house—could I have laid out Lord{132} Simonstower’s legacy50 in better fashion? And I do earn large sums—I had a small fortune out of Domitia, you know.’
‘There is no doubt,’ she replied, ‘that you have had enough money to last you for all the rest of your life if it had been wisely invested.’
‘Do you mean to say that I have no investments?’ he said, half angrily. ‘Why, I have thousands of pounds invested in pictures, books, furniture, and china—my china alone is worth two thousand.’
‘Dear boy, I don’t doubt it,’ she answered soothingly51, ‘but you know it doesn’t produce any interest. I like you to have pretty things about you, but you have precious little modesty52 in your mighty53 brain, and you sometimes indulge tastes which only a millionaire ought to possess.’
‘Well,’ he said, sighing, ‘I suppose there’s a moral at the end of the sermon. What is it, Sprats? You are a brick, of course—in your way there’s nobody like you, but when you are like this you make me think of mustard-plaisters.’
‘The moral is this,’ she answered: ‘come down from the clouds and cultivate a commercial mind for ten minutes. Find out exactly what you have in the way of income, and keep within it. Tell Haidee exactly how much she has to spend.’
‘You forget,’ he said, ‘that Haidee has two thousand pounds of her own. It’s a very small fortune, but it’s hers.’
‘Had, you mean, not has,’ replied Sprats. ‘Haidee must have spent her small fortune twice over, if not thrice over.’
‘It would be an unkind thing to be mean with her,’ said Lucian, with an air of wise reflection. ‘If Haidee had married Darlington she would have had unlimited54 wealth at her disposal; as she preferred to throw it all aside and marry me, I can’t find it in me to deny her anything. No, Sprats—poor little Haidee must have{133} her simple pleasures even if I have to deny myself of my own.’
‘Oh, did you ever hear such utter rot!’ Sprats exclaimed. ‘Catch you denying yourself of anything! Dear boy, don’t be an ass—it’s bad form. And Haidee’s pleasures are not simple.’
‘They are simple in comparison with what they might have been if she had married Darlington,’ he said.
‘Then why didn’t she marry Darlington?’ inquired Sprats.
‘Because she married me,’ answered Lucian. ‘She gave up the millionaire for the struggling poet, as you might put it if you were writing a penny-dreadful. No; seriously, Sprats, I think there’s a good deal due to Haidee in that respect. I think she is really easily contented55. When you come to think of it, we are not extravagant—we like pretty things and comfortable surroundings, but when you think of what some people do——’
‘Oh, you’re hopeless, Lucian!’ she said. ‘I wish you’d been sent out to earn your living at fifteen. Honour bright—you’re living in a world of dreams, and you’ll have a nasty awakening56 some day.’
‘I have given the outer world something of value from my world of dreams,’ he said, smiling at her.
‘You have written some very beautiful poetry, and you are a marvellously gifted man who ought to feel the responsibility of your gifts,’ she said gravely. ‘And all I want is to keep you, if I can, from the rocks on which you might come to grief. I’m sure that if you took my advice about business matters you would avoid trouble in the future. You’re too cock-sure, too easy-going, too thoughtless, Lucian, and this is a hard and a cruel world.’
‘It’s been a very pleasant world to me so far,’ he said. ‘I’ve never had a care or a trouble; I’ve heaps of friends, and I’ve always got everything that I wanted. Why, it’s a very pleasant world! You, Sprats, have found it so, too.’{134}
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I have found it pleasant, but it is hard and cruel nevertheless, and one realises it sometimes when one least expects to. One may wake out of a dream to a very cruel reality.’
‘You speak as of a personal experience,’ he said smiling. ‘And yet I swear you never had one.’
‘I don’t want you to have one,’ she answered.
‘Is sermonising a cruel reality?’ he asked with a mock grimace57.
‘No, it’s a necessary thing; and that reminds me that I have not quite finished mine. Look here, Lucian, here’s a straight question to you. Do you think it a good thing to be so very friendly with Mr. Darlington?’
Lucian dropped his knife and fork and stared at her in amazement.
‘Why on earth not?’ he said. ‘Darlington is an awfully good fellow. Of course, I know that he must have felt it when Haidee ran away with me, but he has been most kind to both of us—we have had jolly times on his yacht and at his Scotch58 place; and you know, Sprats, when you can’t afford things yourself it’s rather nice to have friends who can give them to you.’
‘Lucian, that’s a piece of worldliness that’s unworthy of you,’ she said. ‘Well, I can’t say anything against Mr. Darlington. He seems kind, and he is certainly generous and hospitable59, but it is well known that he was very, very much in love with Haidee, and that he felt her loss a good deal.’
‘Yes, it was awfully hard on him,’ said Lucian, stroking his chin with a thoughtful air; ‘and of course that’s just why one feels that one ought to be nice to him. He and Haidee are great friends, and that’s far better than that he should cherish any bitter feelings against her because she preferred me to him.’
Sprats looked at him with the half-curious, half-speculative expression which had filled her eyes in the earlier stages of their conversation. They had now finished their repast, and she drew on her gloves.
‘I want to go home to my children,’ she said. ‘One{135} of the babies has croup, and it was rather bad when I left. Pay the bill, Lucian, and get them to call a hansom.’
Lucian put his hands in his pockets, and uttered a sudden exclamation of dismay.
‘I haven’t any money,’ he said. ‘I left it all with poor Watson. Have you any?’
‘No,’ she answered, ‘of course I haven’t. You dragged me away in my dinner-dress, and it hasn’t even a pocket in it. What are you going to do?’
‘What an awkward predicament!’ said Lucian, searching every pocket. ‘I don’t know what to do—I haven’t a penny.’
‘Well, you must walk back to Mr. Watson’s and get some money there,’ said Sprats. ‘You will be back in ten minutes.’
‘What! borrow money from a man to whom I have just given it?’ he cried. ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that!’
Sprats uttered an impatient exclamation.
‘Well, do something!’ she said. ‘We can’t sit here all night.’
Lucian summoned the proprietor and explained the predicament. The situation ended in a procession of two hansom cabs, in one of which rode Sprats and Lucian, in the other the Swiss waiter, who enjoyed a long drive westward60 and finally returned to the heights of Islington with the amount of the bill and a substantial gratuity61 in his pocket. As Sprats pointed62 out with force and unction, Lucian’s foolish pride in not returning to the Watsons and borrowing half a sovereign had increased the cost of their supper fourfold. But Lucian only laughed, and Sprats knew that the shillings thrown away were to him as things of no importance.
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1
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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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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conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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8
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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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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10
ruminated
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| v.沉思( ruminate的过去式和过去分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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12
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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laconic
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| adj.简洁的；精练的 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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15
musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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16
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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coaxingly
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| adv. 以巧言诱哄，以甘言哄骗 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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conserves
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| n.（含有大块或整块水果的）果酱，蜜饯( conserve的名词复数 )v.保护，保藏，保存( conserve的第三人称单数 ) | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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fickle
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| adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的，不坚定的 | |
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jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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extravagantly
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| adv.挥霍无度地 | |
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41
pestered
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| 使烦恼，纠缠( pester的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
royalties
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| 特许权使用费 | |
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43
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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44
ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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45
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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46
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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47
epicure
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| n.行家，美食家 | |
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48
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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49
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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50
legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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51
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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52
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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53
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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54
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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55
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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56
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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57
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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58
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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59
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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60
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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61
gratuity
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| n.赏钱，小费 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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