There was a big difference between the convict with his close-cropped hair and disreputable clothes, and this young man in orthodox evening dress, whose hair was brushed in a heavy, shining mass from his forehead, to hang over his ears and neck in the approved musician's style. Nigel had been unable to resist this rather primitive6 piece of swank—besides, it was symbolical7, it marked the contrast between what he had been in the days of his shame, and what he was now in the days of regeneration. The girl who had just come off the stage stared at him half amused, half envying.
"Do you come on soon?"
"Yes—after this next thing."
"Just a little bit nervous?"
He nodded.
[Pg 253]
As a matter of fact, he was in a mortal funk. He would not have believed it possible that he could be afraid of a crowd of strangers, who were nothing to him and to whom he was nothing. But infinite things were at stake. If he failed, if he made an ass5 of himself, he pushed further away, if not altogether out of sight, the dream in which for the last six months he had worked and lived. On the other hand, if he succeeded, if to-morrow's papers took his name out of the gutter8, just as four years ago they had helped to kick it in, his dream would be transmuted9 into hope. The violin he clutched so desperately10 was no mere11 instrument of music, but an instrument of redemption, the token of that dear salvation12 which if a man but see truly he must grasp.
Six months had gone by since he left Sparrow Hall, and during them he had worked desperately with scanty13 rest. He had flung his proud self-will and undisciplined love of prettiness into mechanical exercises for fingers and bow, he had subjected his taste for the tuneful and sentimental15 to Herr von Gleichroeder's dissonantal preferences. But he had been happy—his dream had always been with him, and had breathed all the sentimentality of hope into the dry bones of Chabrier, Chausson and Strauss. He had found it everywhere—even in his bow exercises.
He was happy, too, in his environment—the companionship of his fellow-students with their young, clear spirits and enthusiasm. Most of them knew his story, but in their careless code it did not tell much against him, for every one[Pg 254] admired him for his originality16 and liked him for his desperate pluck. So Nigel found a new form of gratification for that strange part of him born in prison. The companionship of an unripe17 little school-girl with her slang, the sight of children dancing in the dusk, had been succeeded by many a racket with young men and women of his own age—Bohemian supper-parties, followed by impromptu18 concerts or startling variety turns; expeditions in rowdy throngs19 to a theatre or music-hall; small, friendly meals with some fellow-enthusiast, who confessed in private an admiration for Gounod.... It was a draught20 of new life to him; he loved it all—down to the constant musical jargon21, the endless "shop." Much of his bitterness was leaving him, his sullen22 bouts23 were rarer, even the lines of his face were growing rounded and more boyish.
Chausson's "Chanson Perpetuelle" drawled and wailed24 its way towards a close. Nigel's muscles tightened25 to prevent a shudder26. To-night the hall would be full of the friends and relations of the students; they had come out to encourage their respective prodigies27, and his item on the programme would belong, so to speak, to no one. He almost wished he had not forbidden Len and Janey to come—at least they would have made a noise.
The thought of Len and Janey brought an additional stake into the game. He must succeed for their sakes too. He must justify28 to them his departure from Sparrow Hall. If he failed, they would look upon it as a mere piece of obstinate[Pg 255] cruelty, they would plague him to return, and he, in all the sickness of failure, would find it hard to resist them.
Another round of applause ... the "Chanson Perpetuelle" had ended, and the singer, a self-confident little contralto, came off, with the string quartet which had accompanied her. Herr von Gleichroeder bustled29 up, and there was some talk of an encore, which was in the end refused. Then he turned to Nigel.
"You'd better go on at once. Here are two telegrams for you—but you mustn't wait."
Nigel stuffed the two yellow envelopes into his pocket, and moved mechanically towards the stage. Two telegrams—a sick hope was in his heart—one was from Len, he knew; but the other ... Tony knew the date of his concert; perhaps.... He dared not think it, yet that "perhaps" made him hold his head high as he walked on the stage.
He bowed stiffly. Von Gleichroeder had spent a long time trying to teach him a graceful30 bow. He remembered his last public appearance, and it made him not only stiff but a trifle hard. There was no applause at first—no one in the hall knew him; then a kind-hearted old lady felt sorry for the poor young man who had no one to encourage him, and gave a feeble clap, which was more disconcerting than silence.
The accompanist struck the chord—his fiddle was soon in tune14 and he lifted it to his shoulder. A cold chill ran down his back—he had entirely31 forgotten the first bars of the Prelude32.
[Pg 256]
The accompanist had some preliminary business. Nigel listened to him in detached horror, as if he were the spectator of some dreadful scene with which he had absolutely no connection. He heard the music crashing through familiar phrases—only five bars more—only three—only one—
Then there was a pause-bar—a very long pause.
Then suddenly he realised that he had been playing for some time. The violin was warm under his chin, the bow warm between his fingers. He knew that if he stopped to think about it all, he was lost. It was always fatal for him to think of his music as so many little black signs on paper, and it was nearly as fatal for him to think of it as so many movements of his bow or positions of his fingers. Von Gleichroeder had always had to combat his pupil's tendency to play almost entirely by ear, lost meanwhile in a kind of sentimental dream—in the transports of which he swayed violently from side to side and generally looked ridiculous.
To-night he slapped into the Scriabin with tremendous vigour—the infinite pains he had spent during the last six months showing clearly in the ease with which he surmounted33 its technical difficulties. But the watchful34 ear of von Gleichroeder told him that his pupil was playing subconsciously35, so to speak—from his heart, rather than his head. If anything—the slipping of a peg36 or a sudden noise in the hall—were to interrupt him, to wake him up, all would be lost.
But luckily nothing happened. Nigel was[Pg 257] roused only by the last crash of his bow on the strings37. The Prelude was finished, and at the same time a desperate panic seized him. He forgot to bow, and bolted headlong from the stage.
The audience applauded heartily38, and his fellow-students crowded round him with congratulations.
"Well done, old man!—pulled it off splendidly," and his back was vigorously thumped39.
"Worked up beautifully over the climax40."
"But played G instead of B in the last bar but one," added a precise youth.
"Muddled41 your runs in that chromatic42 bit," put in some one else, encouraged.
"Go on and bow—go on and bow," blustered43 von Gleichroeder, hurrying up.
Nigel bowed perfunctorily and came back. The clapping did not subside44.
"I don't allow encores," said the German, "but you're in luck, my friend, in luck."
The colour was darkening on Nigel's face. It was his hour of triumph. He wished Tony was there, and Janey and Leonard—he would let them come to his next concert.
He went on and bowed again—he had to appear several times before the demand for an encore was given up as hopeless, and the applause gradually died away.
He went to the back of the stage and sat down, holding his head in his hands. He wanted to be alone, and to read his telegrams. The future was now a flaming promise—his feet at last were set on the honourable45 way. He let his mind lose[Pg 258] itself in its dream, and for a moment he was conscious of nothing but infinite hope. From the stage a plaintive46, bizarre air of Moussorgski's came to him. To be Russian was to von Gleichroeder synonymous with to be modern, and Moussorgski and Rimsky Korsakov were encouraged where their French or Italian contemporaries were banned. Every now and then a little slow ripple47 brought an end to strange wailing48 dissonances; it was played without much fire—without much feeling—but it haunted.
Nigel opened his first telegram. It read—
"Go it, old chap—laurels is cheap."
That was from Leonard, and a half tender, half humorous smile crept over Furlonger's grim mouth. Dear old Len!—dear old Janey! How he wished they were there! He would wire to them the first thing to-morrow and tell them of his success.
Then suddenly the smile passed away, and his hands shook a little. Who had sent the second telegram?
He tore nervously49 at the envelope. Had Tony remembered him? one word of encouragement from her was worth all the clappings and stampings of the audience, all the eulogies50 of the press....
"And I also dreamed, which pleased me most,
That you loved me still the same...."
He took out the telegram and unfolded it. It ran—
"Come at once. Leonard is ill. Janey."
点击
收听单词发音
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1
auditorium
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| n.观众席，听众席；会堂，礼堂 | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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3
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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4
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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6
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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7
symbolical
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| a.象征性的 | |
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8
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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transmuted
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| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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11
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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12
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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13
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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14
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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15
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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16
originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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17
unripe
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| adj.未成熟的；n.未成熟 | |
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18
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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19
throngs
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| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
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20
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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21
jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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22
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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23
bouts
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| n.拳击（或摔跤）比赛( bout的名词复数 )；一段（工作）；（尤指坏事的）一通；（疾病的）发作 | |
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24
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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26
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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27
prodigies
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| n.奇才，天才（尤指神童）( prodigy的名词复数 ) | |
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28
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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29
bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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30
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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31
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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32
prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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33
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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34
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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35
subconsciously
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| ad.下意识地，潜意识地 | |
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36
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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37
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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38
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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39
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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41
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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42
chromatic
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| adj.色彩的，颜色的 | |
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43
blustered
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| v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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44
subside
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| vi.平静，平息；下沉，塌陷，沉降 | |
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45
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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46
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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47
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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48
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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49
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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50
eulogies
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| n.颂词，颂文( eulogy的名词复数 ) | |
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