They had just alighted from a Halsted Street car and had entered the maze1 of booths, carts, rough board counters, and wagons2. “This is Maxwell Street on a bright Sunday afternoon in late autumn,” replied Merry with a smile.
They were on their way, Petite Jeanne and Merry, to the promised party at which many mysterious bags and trunks were to be opened. Florence was with them; so, too, was Angelo. Dan Baker3 also had agreed to come at the last moment. So they were quite a party, five in all.
133
About these portable stores swarmed4 a motley throng5. Some were white, some brown, some black. All, stall keepers and prospective6 purchasers alike were poor, if one were to judge by attire7.
“Don’t be afraid,” Merry smiled at the little French girl. “These are harmless, kindly8 people. They are poor, to be sure. But in this world, ninety out of every hundred are poor and probably always will be.
“Some of these people have a few poor things to sell. The others hope to purchase them at a bargain; which indeed they often do.
“So you see,” she ended, “like other places in the world, Maxwell Street deserves its place in the sun, for it serves the poor of this great city. What could be nobler?”
“Ah, yes, What could be nobler?” the little French girl echoed.
“How strange!” she murmured as they walked along. “There is no order here. See! There are shoes. Here are cabbages. And here are more shoes. There are chickens. Here are more shoes. And yonder are stockings to go with the shoes. How very queer.”
134
“Yes,” Florence sighed, “there is no order in the minds of the very poor. Perhaps that is why they are poor.”
“Come!” Merry cried impatiently. “We must find the shops of our friends. They are on Peoria Street. Two blocks up.”
“Lead the way.” Petite Jeanne motioned her friends to follow.
As they wedged their way through the throng, Petite Jeanne found her spirits drooping9. “How sad it all seems!” she thought to herself. “There is a little dried up old lady. She must be eighty. She’s trying to sell a few lemons. And here is a slip of a girl. How pinched her face is! She’s watching over a few wretched stockings. If you whistled through them they’d go into rags.
“And yet,” she was ready to smile again, “they all seem cheerful.”
She had said this last aloud. “Yes,” Merry answered, “cheerful and kind. Very considerate of one another. It is as if suffering, hunger, rags, disease, brought friends who cannot be bought with gold.”
135
“It is true. And such a beautiful truth. I—”
Petite Jeanne broke short off, then dodged10 quickly to one side. She had barely escaped being run down by an automobile11. Coming in from behind, the driver had not honked12 his horn.
The man was large. The companion at his side was large. The bright blue car was large. The whole outfit13 fairly oozed14 comfort, riches and self-satisfaction.
“Stand gawking around and you’ll get a leg taken off!” The driver’s voice was harsh, unkind. He spoke15 to the little French girl.
The hot fire that smouldered behind Angelo’s dark eyes blazed forth16.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” he demanded in a fury. “Running people down! Crowding them about! You with your big car! If you want to gaze, why don’t you walk as we do?”
136
The car came to a halt. A deep flush had spread over the driver’s face. Springing from the car, he launched a blow that sent the slight Italian youth spinning into the crowd behind him.
But what was this? Hardly had the man swayed back, a leer of satisfaction on his face, than a whirling catapult launched itself upon him. A circle of steel closed about his neck. He found himself whirling through space. He landed with a mighty17 clatter18 atop a pile of frying pans and stew19 kettles.
Quickly scrambling20 to his feet, he glowered21 at the gathering22 throng as he demanded,
“Who did that?”
For the count of ten, no one answered. Then a scrawny little Irishman, who wore a Cross of Honor on his ragged23 jacket, pushed Florence forward as he whispered hoarsely24,
“Tell ’im, Miss. I’m wid y’. Me, as never lost a battle yet.”
“I did!” The girl’s words were clear and quite distinct.
A hush25 fell over the thickening crowd. A fight on Maxwell Street is always an occasion. But a fight between a prosperous man and a good looking girl! Who had seen this before?
137
Florence, as you will recall, was not one of those weaklings who subsist26 on pickles27 and ice-cream in order to develop a slender figure. She weighed one hundred and sixty, was an athletic28 instructor29, knew a few tricks and was hard as a rock.
There was no fight. The man looked her up and down. Then he called her a name. It was a nasty name, seldom heard on Maxwell Street. For the people there, though poor, are a gentle folk.
Then Maxwell Street, slow going, gentle, kindly, poverty-stricken Maxwell Street, went mad. Who threw the first ripe tomato that struck this prosperous insulter squarely on the jaw30? No one will ever know. Enough that it was thrown. It was followed quickly by a bushel more, and after that by a cart load of over-ripe fish.
When at last the irate31 but badly beaten man of importance turned his car southward and fled from Maxwell Street, his beautiful car was no longer blue. It was tomato-pink and fish-yellow. And his costume matched the car.
138
Then Maxwell Street indulged in a good laugh. In this laugh Angelo did not join. He divided his attention between the business of nursing his swollen32 jaw and paying the poor venders of tomatoes and fish for their missing wares33.
“Some people,” he might have been heard to grumble34 to himself, “talk too much.”
“The battle of Maxwell Street!” exclaimed Merry at his elbow. Her eyes shone. “And we won!”
“I am sure of it!” Angelo agreed heartily35. “However, I am out four dollars and sixty-five cents for fish and tomatoes.”
“But look!” Merry pointed36 to the battered37 little Irishman with the Cross of Honor. “He is taking up a collection. You will be paid.”
“No, no! That cannot be!” True distress38 was in the Italian boy’s eyes. “Stop him.”
“No. We must not!” Merry’s tone was tense with emotion. “You are their hero. You stood up for their rights. Would you be so mean as to rob them of the right to do homage39 to their hero?”
139
“Ah, me!” Angelo rubbed his eyes. “This is a very strange world.”
In the end he departed with a heavy sack of nickels and pennies, while the crowd shouted their approval of the “brave little Dago.” And for once Angelo did not hate this name they had given his people.
They had gone another block before Angelo spoke again. What he said both puzzled and troubled the little French girl. “That whole affair,” he said quietly, “was a faux pas.”
“How could it be!” she exclaimed. “I thought it quite wonderful. What right have those big, bluffing40 bullies41 to run down poor people on Maxwell Street?”
“None at all,” Angelo replied soberly. “But after all, the battle of Maxwell Street is not our battle. This is a large city. Yet it is strange the way we meet the same people again and again. If that man really comes upon me in some other place, if he finds out what I do and where I live, he will do his best to ruin me. That is the way of his kind.”
140
Little did Angelo guess the manner in which his prophecy was to come true, much less the manner of vengeance42 that would be employed.
Petite Jeanne remained silent for a moment. Then she gave Angelo’s arm an affectionate squeeze as she answered: “I shall pray every night that he may never see you even once again.”
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1
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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2
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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3
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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5
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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6
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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7
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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8
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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9
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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10
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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12
honked
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| v.（使）发出雁叫似的声音，鸣（喇叭），按（喇叭）( honk的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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14
oozed
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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15
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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16
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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glowered
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| v.怒视( glower的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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25
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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subsist
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| vi.生存，存在，供养 | |
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27
pickles
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| n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 )；处于困境；遇到麻烦；菜酱 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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29
instructor
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| n.指导者，教员，教练 | |
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30
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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31
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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32
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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33
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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34
grumble
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| vi.抱怨；咕哝；n.抱怨，牢骚；咕哝，隆隆声 | |
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35
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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36
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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37
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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38
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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39
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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40
bluffing
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| n. 威吓，唬人 动词bluff的现在分词形式 | |
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41
bullies
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| n.欺凌弱小者, 开球 vt.恐吓, 威胁, 欺负 | |
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42
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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