Tie determin'd afterward2, that Mr. Dimdown, heretofore unacquainted with any confinement4 longer than hiding in the Root-Cellar till the Sher?iff took his leave, had been drinking steadily5 whatever Spirits came to hand, for the three days previous, attempting, as he explains, "to get the Time to pass differently, that's all."
Mr. Knockwood comes from around the Bar whilst Mrs. Knockwood, sorting her Keys, heads for the Musketoon in the China-Cabinet.
"And furthermore," Mr. Dimdown in a fury, "how dare you you fabu-lating little swine pretend to any knowledge of America, having sneak'd onto our Shores 'pon your miserable6 Belly,"— and so on.
"There, there, now, Gentlemen," the Landlord slowing his Address as much as he can afford to, whilst keeping an eye upon his Wife's progress with the Powder Horns, Funnel7, and Shot, "Mr. Dimdown, mind my Chef now, I can't afford to lose him. And you, Frenchie,—
"Filthy8 frog! Deet adyoo!" Mr. Dimdown makes a murderous Lunge with his Blade, straight at the Chef's unprotected Heart. Immediately, Inches short of its target, the Weapon, from no cause visible to anyone, leaves Dimdown's Grasp and sails across the Room in a slow, some might say insolent9 Arc, directly in among the blazing Logs of the Hearth10, where none may reach.
''Twas...Magnetism11 or something," protests Mr. Dimdown, "and withal I stumbl'd,— or was deliberately12 tripp'd up. Look ye,— how am I to retrieve13 my Bleeder now? The heat will ruin the Steel. Damn you, Mon-soor."
"Thus," intones the Frenchman, with a twirl of his Toque, "the very Duck, in action. You have seen for yourselves. You have borne Witness. Her capacity for Flight having increased to ever longer Distances, in the years between then and now, till one day, not even the vast Ocean might deter1 her,— Voilà!— I wake to find her perch'd at the end of the Bed, quacking14 merrily as a Milk-maid. Yes, she has follow'd me even to the New World, whether in affection or hatred15, who can say,— that 'tis Pas?sion, none may dispute,— and once again, I am besieged16, as she contin?ues upon her strange Orbit of Escape from the known World, whilst growing more powerful within it."
To Luise, this is beginning to sound like Peter Redzinger all over again. Upon an Impulse, nevertheless, she places a somewhat larger than Parisian Hand,— a callus'd working Hand, cut and healed in a thousand places, sun-brown, hair-tucking, needle-nimble,— upon his arm. A close observer, did one attend, might see him begin to flicker18 'round the edges. "Oh, Monsieur. An Angel, so?"
"Perhaps, Madame, it is merely the price I must pay for having left France,— yet, to be honest, coming from a place where people starve to death every night, if I must suffer the Duck's inscrutable attendance, in Exchange for this Miracle of Plenty,— then, 'tis a Bargain. On market days in New Castle or Philadelphia, my Heart yet soars as ever it has done,.. .like a dream— Have you ever wanted to cook everything,— the tomatoes, terrapins19, peaches, rockfish, crabs20, Indian Corn, Venison! Bear! Beaver21! To create the Beaver Bourguignon,— who knows, perhaps even the.. .the Beaver soufflé, non?" He is gesturing excitedly.
"Sure, the Indians know how to cook Beaver," she tells him, "there's some Glands22 you have to take out, and much Fat to trim, but when 'tis done right? Ach,.. .as good as anything from a German kitchen, plain or fancy."
"You have actually,"— he gazes at her,— "that is.. .eaten..."
In the days they are to remain snow-bound, a triangle will develop among the incorruptible Pietist, the exil'd Chef, and the infatuated
Duck. Strangely, given her great powers for Mischief23, the Duck does nothing to harm Luise, indeed extends to her the same invisible Protec?tion,— as if sensing a chance to observe "Love" at first hand, invisibly. Thus do Armand and Luise, never knowing when she may be there watching, find one more Obstacle in the way of bodily Desires,— "She's being quite sympathetic about all this, don't you think?"
"I don't know, Armand. Are you sure you've told me ev'rything?"
"My Dearest! How could you even..."
"She seems to know you...so well."
It does not, however, in fact take long for the Duck to grow far less cer?tain than before, that she even wishes an erotick Life. Meanwhile, in their Niveal Confinement, the behavior of the Company grows ever less predictable. "And over my head," relates Squire24 Haligast, "it form'd an E-clipse, an emptiness in the Sky, with a Cloud-shap'd Line drawn25 all about it, wherein words might appear, and it read,— 'No King...''
"Thank you for sharing that with us, Sir," snarls26 the dependably viperous27 Mr. Whitpot, the first upon whom the Squire's oracular charm has begun to lose its grasp. As days of snow and snow-clouds in dark unpromising shades of Blue pass one into another, the readiness of immoderate Sentiment to burst forth28 upon any or no occasion is felt by all to be heightening dangerously. Even young Cherrycoke struggles with it, rosy29 Phiz a-glimmer, seated at a Table of local Dutch Manufac?ture, writing in his Memorandum-Book, as the snow lapses30 in wet silence 'cross the rhombic Panes31 before him, whilst from his Pen, in bright, increasingly bloody32 Tropes, speculation33 upon the Eucharistic Sacrament and the practice of Cannibalism34 comes a-spurting. It had begun in Scholarly Innocence35, as a Commentary upon an earlier Essay by Brook36 Taylor (the Series and Theorem Eponym), "On the Lawfulness37 of Eating Blood."
Mr. Knockwood observes from an upstairs Window a depth of Snow nearly level with its Sill, and worrying about the supply of Air in the Rooms below, rushes to find, and ask, the Astronomers38. And what has happen'd to the Light? are there Snow-Eclipses? Down in the Pantry, Armand and Luise are embracing, outdoing the Sparkishness of even Philadelphia!! Youth (yet again, perhaps that is only what people bring out upon days when gossip is scarce, honoring the rest of the time their manifest Innocence),— whilst Mitzi, out in this taupe daylight, is hang?ing about the stable-hands and Scullery Boys, swinging her Hair, flash?ing her eyes, getting into conversations that she then tries to prolong to some point she can't clearly enough define to herself. She's grown up with murderous Indians in the Woods all 'round, painted bare skins and sharpen'd Blades, she has a different sense of Danger than do these mild estuarial39 Souls, with their diet of fish, like a race of house-cats, so. Yet what she really wishes to prolong, may be the state of never knowing exactly how safe she may be among the English Fisher-Boys, as at first, at each new fall of Snow, she has thrill'd, knowing it means at least one more day of isolation40 with the Inn's resident Adonises,— or, as Armand, feeling increasingly Paterfamilial, prefers, Slack-jaw'd Louts. Lately, however, the Winter has begun to oppress more than encourage her hopes. She actually starts looking about for Chores to do, offering Armand her help in the Kitchen, still a-blush ev'ry time they speak,— Luise, as he is joyous41 to learn, having taught her at least the Fundamen?tals. Soon he is allowing her to prepare salads, and confiding42 minor43 Arcana of French Haute Cuisine,— its historical beginnings among the arts of the Poisoner,— its need to be carried on in an Attitude of unwa?vering Contempt for any who would actually chew, swallow, and attempt to digest it, and come back for more,— the first Thousand Pot-lid set?tings, from Le Gastreau's fam'd article in the Encyclopédie,— the Pot-Lid being indeed a particular Hobby-Horse of Armand's, upon its proper Arrangement often hanging the difference between success and failure. "Off, on, all the way on, partly off, crescents of varying shape, each with its appropriate use,— you must learn to think of the Pot, as you look down upon it, as a sort of Moon, with Phases...tho' keeping in mind Voltaire's remark about Gas- and As-tronomers."
The Revd looks on with interest. The Frenchman fascinates him. With his recent animadversions upon the Lord's Supper, he is attending more to Food, and its preparation. "I thought I had put behind me," he writes, "the questions of whether the Body and Blood of Christ are consubstan-tiate with, or transubstantiated from, the Bread and Wine of the Eucharist,— preferring at last to believe, with Doctors such as Haimo of Halberstadt, that the outward Forms are given to bread and wine as an act of God's Mercy, for otherwise we should be repell'd by the sight of
real human Flesh and Blood, not to mention the prospect44 of eating it. Thus to God's attributes must be added the skills of a master Chef, in so disguising a terrible reality. The question I cannot resolve is whether real Flesh and real Blood are themselves, in turn, further symbolick,— either of some mystickal Body of Christ, in which participants in the Lord's Supper all somehow,— mystickally, to be sure,— become One,— or of a terrible Opposite... some ultimate Carnality, some way of finally belonging to the doom'd World that cannot be undone,— a condition, I now confess, I once roam'd the Earth believing myself to be seeking, all but asphyxiated45 in a darkling innocence which later Generations may no longer fully46 imagine.
"But since those days of young hopes, illusory daybreaks, and the uncanny sureness of Nerve, I have been down into other quarters of the City of Earth, seen and smell'd at village Markets, hung amid the flies and street-dust with the other animal meat, Human Flesh, offer'd for sale.... In America some Indians believe that eating the flesh, and par17?ticularly drinking the blood, of those one has defeated in battle, will transfer the 'Virtues,' as theologians might call 'em, from one's late oppo?nent, to oneself,— a mystickal Union between the Antagonists47, which no one I have consulted is quite able to explain to me. It raises the possi?bility that Savages48 who appear to be Enemies are in fact connected somehow, profoundly, as in a Covenant49 of Blood, with War for them being thus a species of Sacrament. This being so, as a practical matter out here, the Warriors-Paths must be deem'd holy, and transgression50 of them serious, to a degree difficult to imagine in the common British Foot-path dispute. We must either change our notions of the Sacred, or come to terms with these Nations,— and sooner rather than later."
Late in the day after his assault upon Armand, Mr. Dimdown answers a Knock at the door of his Room, to find Mitzi Redzinger, holding out his Hanger51 cautiously by its Strap52. "I clean'd it up as best I could," she mur?murs, gazing at anything but him. "'A bit of Soot53, nothing worse. And I sharpen'd it for you." "You what?”
"Armand has taught me how." She has stepp'd into the room and shut the door behind her, and now stands observing him, surpriz'd at how tat-ter'd seems his Foppery in the Day-time.
"No one sharpens this but me, this is genuine Damascus Steel, for Heaven's sake,— here, then, let us see the Damage." Taking what seems far too long, he peers up and down the newly glitt'ring Edge, and is soon making ornamental54 Lunges and Passes in the Air, presenting each Leg a number of times for her Consideration, adjusting his Cuffs55 and Stock unceasingly. "Hmm. Appears that you may understand something about Blades—" A complicated assault upon a Candle-stick. "Feels a little slow. Us'd to be faster. Is there a fruitful lawsuit56 here? yes perhaps I shall take Knockwood to court, if Spring ever comes,— say, Frowline, your Cap,.. .what d'you think you're doing?"
The Goose. She is untying57 her Cap, then taking it slowly off, unbinding and shaking out her Hair. She is making it ripple58 for him. She is getting it to catch the winter Light thro' the Window. She is so flabber-gasting this Macaroni with it that he seems to fall into a contemplative Daze59 before the deep Undulations, a Dreamer at the Edge of the Sea. Outdoors, the Snow is upon the Glide60 yet again, and soon 'twill be Night. She remembers all the Leagues of Snow-cover'd Terrain61 between here and the Redzinger Farm, all going dark, the City she cannot quite believe in that lies ahead, her Father's Resurrection and Departure, her Mother's visible Change, and lastly her own, which she can as little command as explain,— Breasts, Hips62, Fluxes63, odd Swoons, a sharpening Eye for lapses of Character in young Men. "The Lord provides," her Mother has told her. "Wisdom comes to us, even as it appears to leave Men. You won't need to go all the way to Philadelphia. Nor much further than the Town, upon Market Day, so."
He has begun apologizing for his Assault upon the Frenchman. " 'Twas vile64 of me. I know you are his Friend,— I wish there were some way... ?"
"Simply tell him. Isn't it done among you?"
"Go into that Kitchen? You've seen his Battery,— the Knives, the Cleavers65? Mrs. Dimdown rais'd no Idiots, Frowline."
"Oh, if you knew Armand." She laughs merrily.
"I am become a Target for his Instruments edg'd and pointed66. There, our Relation appears at a Stand-still.”
"But recall, that no one here has ever seen Armand cut anything. That's why he's teaching me how to,— so that I can do what he can no longer bear. Perhaps it is my Mother's doing,— he has forsworn Violence in the Kitchen,— not only toward Meat, but the Vegetables as well, for as little now can he bring himself to chop an Onion, as to slice a Turnip67, or even scrub a Mushroom."
"Perhaps you oughtn't to be telling me. A man needs his Reputation."
"But as a veteran Bladesman, you would never take advantage of him, I'm sure?"
His face grows pink and swollen68, a sign she knows,— she has been blurted69 at by young men. Feeling behind her for the Door-knob, she is surpriz'd to find herself several steps from it, well within the Room. "Mr. Dimdown, I trust you are well?"
"Philip," he mumbles70, "actually," putting his Hanger back in its Scabbard. "As you have confided71 in me, so may I admit to you, that I have never, well that is not yet, been obliged to, uh in fact,..."
"Oh, I can see you've never been in a Duel72." She pushes aside some hair that may be screening the full effect of the Sparkle in her eyes.
"Ruin!— Ah! You must despise me."
She shrugs73, abruptly74 enough to allow him to read it, if he wishes, as a sympathetick Shiver. "We have had enough of fighting, out where we live,— it is not to me the Novel Thrill, that some Philadelphia Girl might think it." Taking up hair that has fallen forward over her right Shoulder, she shifts the Locks back, and slowly leftward, tossing her head from time to time.
Ignoring this opening, all a-fidget, "Are you the only one that can see it, or does ev'ryone know that I've never been out? as if, engrav'd upon my Head, or something?"
"Calm...Philip. I'll tell no one."
In lurches the Landlord. "Your mother's looking for you, Miss." Flour?ishing his Eyebrows75 at them both.
"Trouble," mutters young Dimdown.
"He wishes to apologize to Monsieur Allègre," Mitzi quickly sings out, "isn't that it, Sir?"
"Uhm, that is,— "
"Excellent, I can arrange that," and Mr. Knockwood dashes off again.
"I'm putting my life in your hands, here," says Philip Dimdown. "No one else is what they seem,— why should you be?"
'Tis only now that Mitzi, at last, finds herself a-blush, this being her very first Compliment, and a roguish one at that. He seems at once con3?siderably wiser, if no older.
And presently, in the afternoon Lull76 between meals, the peace is made, the two men shaking hands at the kitchen door, and commencing to chatter77 away like two Daws upon a Roof-top. Luise comes by with a Tray-ful of Dutch Kisses, provoking witty78 requests, most of which, though not all, she avoids gracefully79.
"Damme for a Bun-brain, Mounseer,— as if I'd actually impale80 the greatest Cook in the Colonies,—
"But your movement with the Blade,— so elegant, so professionel."
"Not exactly the great Figg, I regret to say,— indeed, never closer to the real thing, than private Lessons, at an establishment in New-York, from a Professor Tisonnier.—
"But I knew him! in France!— Oui, he once commented upon my brais'd Pork Liver with Aubergines,— offer'd to teach me the St. George Parry if I'd give him the Receipt."
"He was esteem'd for that, indeed, and for his Hanging Guard,— I'd show you it, but I wouldn't want to nick up the old Spadroon."
"Damascus steel, 's it not? Fascinating. How is that Moire effect done?"
"By twisting together two different sorts of Steel, or so I am told,— then welding the Whole."
"A time-honor'd Technique in Pastry81 as well. The Armorers of the Japanese Islands are said to have a way of working carbon-dust into the steel of their Swords, not much different from how one must work the Butter into the Croissant Dough82. Spread, fold, beat flat, spread, again and again, eh? till one has created hundreds of these prodi?giously thin layers."
"Gold-beating as well, now you come to it," puts in Mr. Knockwood,
- 'tis flatten83 and fold, isn't it, and flatten again, among the thicknesses of Hide, till presently you've these very thin Sheets of Gold-Leaf."
"Lamination," Mason observes.
"Lo, Lamination abounding," contributes Squire Haligast, momentar?ily visible, "its purposes how dark, yet have we ever sought to produce
these thin Sheets innumerable, to spread a given Volume as close to pure Surface as possible, whilst on route discovering various new forms, the Leyden Pile, decks of Playing-Cards, Contrivances which, like the Lever or Pulley, quite multiply the apparent forces, often unto disproportionate results...."
"The printed Book," suggests the Revd, "— thin layers of pattern'd Ink, alternating with other thin layers of compress'd Paper, stack'd often by the Hundreds."
"Or an unbound Heap of Broadsides," adds Mr. Dimdown, "dispers'd one by one, and multiplying their effect as they go."
The Macaroni is of course not what he seems, as which of us is?— the truth comes out weeks later, when he is discover'd running a clandestine84 printing Press, in a Cellar in Elkton. He looks up from the fragrant85 Sheets, so new that one might yet smell the Apprentices86' Urine in which the Ink-Swabs were left to soften87, bearing, to sensitiz'd Nasalia, sub-Messages of youth and Longing,— all about him the word repeated in large Type, LIBERTY.
One Civilian88 leads in a small band of Soldiers. "Last time you'll be seeing that word."
"Don't bet your Wife's Reputation on it," the Quarrelsome Fop might have replied. Philip Dimdown, return'd to himself, keeps his Silence.
"If we choose to take the Romantic approach,—
"We must," appeals Tenebras. "Of course he was thinking about her. How did they part?"
"Honorably. He kept up the Fop Disguise till the end."
"Impossible, Uncle. He must have let her see.. .somehow,. .at the last moment, so that then she might ciy, bid him farewell, and the rest."
"The rest?" Ives alarm'd.
"After she meets someone else."
"Aaahhgghh!" groans89 Ethelmer.
"Never ends!" adds Cousin DePugh.
收听单词发音 |
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deter
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| vt.阻止，使不敢，吓住 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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retrieve
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| vt.重新得到，收回；挽回，补救；检索 | |
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quacking
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| v.（鸭子）发出嘎嘎声( quack的现在分词 ) | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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terrapins
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| n.（北美的）淡水龟( terrapin的名词复数 ) | |
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crabs
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| n.蟹( crab的名词复数 )；阴虱寄生病；蟹肉v.捕蟹( crab的第三人称单数 ) | |
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beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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glands
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| n.腺( gland的名词复数 ) | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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squire
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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snarls
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| n.（动物的）龇牙低吼( snarl的名词复数 )；愤怒叫嚷（声）；咆哮（声）；疼痛叫声v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的第三人称单数 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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viperous
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| adj.有毒的，阴险的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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lapses
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| n.失误，过失( lapse的名词复数 )；小毛病；行为失检；偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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panes
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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cannibalism
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| n.同类相食；吃人肉 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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brook
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lawfulness
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| 法制，合法 | |
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astronomers
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| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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estuarial
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isolation
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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asphyxiated
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| v.渴望的，有抱负的，追求名誉或地位的( aspirant的过去式和过去分词 )；有志向或渴望获得…的人 | |
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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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antagonists
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| 对立[对抗] 者，对手，敌手( antagonist的名词复数 )； 对抗肌； 对抗药 | |
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48
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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49
covenant
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| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
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transgression
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| n.违背；犯规；罪过 | |
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hanger
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| n.吊架，吊轴承；挂钩 | |
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strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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soot
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| n.煤烟，烟尘；vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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54
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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lawsuit
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| n.诉讼，控诉 | |
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untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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58
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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daze
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| v.(使)茫然，(使)发昏 | |
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glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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terrain
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| n.地面，地形，地图 | |
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hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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fluxes
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| 连续的改变( flux的名词复数 )； 不稳定的状态； 不停的变化； 通量 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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cleavers
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| n.猪殃殃（其茎、实均有钩刺）；砍肉刀，剁肉刀( cleaver的名词复数 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mumbles
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| 含糊的话或声音，咕哝( mumble的名词复数 ) | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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76
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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impale
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| v.用尖物刺某人、某物 | |
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pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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83
flatten
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| v.把．．．弄平，使倒伏；使(漆等)失去光泽 | |
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clandestine
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| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
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85
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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apprentices
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| 学徒，徒弟( apprentice的名词复数 ) | |
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soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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