Among his various amiable1 capacities, Ely Ives included that of ceremonial arranger. Festivities were his delight; he was ever on the lookout2 for occasions of celebration: any excuse for a gratulatory function sufficed him. Before leaving on his chase to Manzanita, he had conceived the festal notion of a dinner in honor of Banneker, not that he cherished any love for him since the episode of the bet with Delavan Eyre, but because his shrewd foresight3 perceived in it a closer binding4 of the editor to the wheels of the victorious5 Patriot6. Also it might indirectly7 redound8 to the political advantage of Marrineal. Put thus to that astute9 and aspiring10 public servant, it enlisted11 his prompt support. He himself would give the feast: no, on better thought, The Patriot should give it. It would be choice rather than large: a hundred guests or so; mainly journalistic, the flower of Park Row, with a sprinkling of important politicians and financiers. The occasion? Why, the occasion was pat to hand! The thousandth Banneker editorial to be published in The Patriot, the date of which came early in the following month.
Had Ives himself come to Banneker with any such project, it would have been curtly12 rejected. Ives kept in the background. The proposal came from Marrineal, and in such form that for the recipient13 of the honor to refuse it would have appeared impossibly churlish. Little though he desired or liked such a function, Banneker accepted with a good grace, and set himself to write an editorial, special to the event. Its title was, "What Does Your Newspaper Mean to You?" headed with the quotation14 from the Areopagitica: and he compressed into a single column all his dreams and idealities of what a newspaper might be and mean to the public which it sincerely served. Specially15 typed and embossed, it was arranged as the dinner souvenir.
As the day drew near, Banneker had less and less taste for the ovation16. Forebodings had laid hold on his mind. Enderby had been back for five days, and had taken no part whatever in the current political activity. Conflicting rumors17 were in the air. The anti-Marrineal group was obviously in a state of confusion and doubt: Marrineal's friends were excited, uncertain, expectant.
For three days Banneker had had no letter from Io.
The first intimation of what had actually occurred came to him just before he left the office to dress for the dinner in his honor. Willis Enderby had formally withdrawn18 from the governorship contest. His statement given out for publication in next morning's papers, was in the office. Banneker sent for it. The reason given was formal and brief; nervous breakdown20; imperative21 orders from his physician. The whole thing was grisly plain to Banneker, but he must have confirmation22. He went to the city editor. Had any reporter been sent to see Judge Enderby?
Yes: Dilson, one of the men frequently assigned to do Marrineal's and Ives's special work had been sent to Enderby's on the previous day with specific instructions to ask a single question: "When was the Judge going to issue his formal withdrawal": Yes: that was the precise form of the question: not, "Was he going to withdraw," but "When was he," and so on.
The Judge would not answer, except to say that he might have a statement to make within twenty-four hours. This afternoon (continued the city editor) Enderby, it was understood, had telephoned to The Sphere and asked that Russell Edmonds come to his house between four and five. No one else would do. Edmonds had gone, had been closeted with Enderby for an hour, and had emerged with the brief typed statement for distribution to all the papers. He would not say a word as to the interview. Judge Enderby absolutely denied himself to all callers. Physician's orders again.
Banneker reflected that if the talk between Edmonds and Enderby had been what he could surmise23, the veteran would hardly attend the dinner in his (Banneker's) honor. Honor and Banneker would be irreconcilable24 terms, to the stern judgment25 of Pop Edmonds. Had they, indeed, become irreconcilable terms? It was a question which Banneker, in the turmoil26 of his mind, could not face. On his way along Park Row he stopped and had a drink. It seemed to produce no effect, so presently he had another. After the fourth, he clarified and enlarged his outlook upon the whole question, which he now saw in its entirety. He perceived himself as the victim of unique circumstances, forced by the demands of honor into what might seem, to unenlightened minds, dubious27 if not dishonorable positions, each one of them in reality justified28: yes, necessitated29! Perhaps he was at fault in his very first judgment; perhaps, had he even then, in his inexperience, seen what he now saw so clearly in the light of experience, the deadly pitfalls30 into which journalism31, undertaken with any other purpose than the simple setting forth32 of truth, beguiles33 its practitioners--perhaps he might have drawn19 back from the first step of passive deception34 and have resigned rather than been a party to the suppression of the facts about the Veridian killings35. Resigned? And forfeited36 all his force for education, for enlightenment, for progress of thought and belief, exerted upon millions of minds through The Patriot?... Would that not have been the way of cowardice37?... He longed to be left to himself. To think it all out. What would Io say, if she knew everything? Io whose silence was surrounding him with a cold terror.... He had to get home and dress for that cursed dinner!
Marrineal had done the thing quite royally. The room was superb with flowers; the menu the best devisable; the wines not wide of range, but choice of vintage. The music was by professionals of the first grade, willing to give their favors to these powerful men of the press. The platform table was arranged for Marrineal in the presiding chair, flanked by Banneker and the mayor: Horace Vanney, Gaines, a judge of the Supreme38 Court, two city commissioners39, and an eminent40 political boss. The Masters, senior and junior, had been invited, but declined, the latter politely, the former quite otherwise. Below were the small group tables, to be occupied by Banneker's friends and contemporaries of local newspaperdom, and a few outsiders, literary, theatrical41, and political. When Banneker appeared in the reception-room where the crowd awaited, smiling, graceful42, vigorous, and splendid as a Greek athlete, the whole assemblage rose in acclaim--all but one. Russell Edmonds, somber43 and thoughtful, kept his seat. His leonine head drooped44 over his broad shirt-bosom.
Said Mallory of The Ledger45, bending over him:
"Look at Ban, Pop!"
"I'm looking," gloomed Edmonds.
"What's behind that smile? Something frozen. What's the matter with him?" queried46 the observant Mallory.
"Too much success."
"It'll be too much dinner if he doesn't look out," remarked the other. "He's trying to match cocktails47 with every one that comes up."
"Won't make a bit of difference," muttered the veteran. "He's all steel. Cold steel. Can't touch him."
Marrineal led the way out of the ante-room to the banquet, escorting Banneker. Never had the editor of The Patriot seemed to be more completely master of himself. The drink had brightened his eyes, brought a warm flush to the sun-bronze of his cheek, lent swiftness to his tongue. He was talking brilliantly, matching epigrams with the Great Gaines, shrewdly poking48 good-natured fun at the stolid49 and stupid mayor, holding his and the near-by tables in spell with reminiscences in which so many of them shared. Some wondered how he would have anything left for his speech.
While the game course was being served, Ely Ives was summoned outside. Banneker, whose faculties50 had taken on a preternatural acuteness, saw, when he returned, that his face had whitened and sharpened; watched him write a note which he folded and pinned before sending it to Marrineal. In the midst of a story, which he carried without interruption, the guest of honor perceived a sort of glaze51 settle over his chief's immobile visage; the next moment he had very slightly shaken his head at Ives. Banneker concluded his story. Marrineal capped it with another. Ives, usually abstemious52 as befits one who practices sleight-of-hand and brain, poured his empty goblet53 full of champagne54 and emptied it in long, eager draughts55. The dinner went on.
The ices were being cleared away when a newspaper man, not in evening clothes, slipped in and talked for a moment with Mr. Gordon of The Ledger. Presently another quietly appropriated a seat next to Van Cleve of The Sphere. The tidings, whatever they were, spread. Then, the important men of the different papers gathered about Russell Edmonds. They seemed to be putting to him brief inquiries56, to which he answered with set face and confirming nods. With his quickened faculties, Banneker surmised57 one of those inside secrets of journalism so often sacredly kept, though a hundred men know them, of which the public reads only the obvious facts, the empty shell. Now and again he caught a quick and veiled glance of incomprehension of doubt, of incredulity, cast at him.
He chattered58 on. Never did he talk more brilliantly.
Coffee. Presently there would be cigars. Then Marrineal would introduce him, and he would say to these men, this high and inner circle of journalism, the things which he could not write for his public, which he could present to them alone, since they alone would understand. It was to be his _magnum opus_, that speech. For a moment he had lost physical visualization59 in mental vision. When again he let his eyes rest on the scene before him, he perceived that a strange thing had happened. The table at which Van Cleve had sat, with seven others, was empty. In the same glance he saw Mr. Gordon rise and quietly walk out, followed by the other newspaper men in the group. Two politicians were left. They moved close to each other and spoke60 in whispers, looking curiously61 at Banneker.
What manner of news could that have been, brought in by the working newspaper man, thus to depopulate a late-hour dining-table? Had the world turned upside down?
Below him, and but a few paces distant, Tommy Burt was seated. When he, too, got slowly to his feet, Banneker leaned across the strewn, white napery toward him.
"What's up, Tommy?"
For an instant the star reporter stopped, seemed to turn an answer over in his mind, then shook his head, and, with an unfathomable look of incredulity and shrinking, went his way. Bunny Fitch followed; Fitch, the slave of his paper's conventions, the man without standards other than those which were made for him by the terms of his employment, who would go only because his proprietors62 would have him go: and the grin which he turned up to Banneker was malignant63 and scornful. Already the circle about Ely Ives, who was still drinking eagerly, had melted away. Glidden, Mallory, Gale64, Andreas, and a dozen others of his oldest associates were at the door, not talking as they would have done had some "big story" broken at that hour, but moving in a chill silence and purposefully like men seeking relief from an unendurable atmosphere. The deadly suspicion of the truth struck in upon the guest of honor; they, his friends, were going because they could no longer take part in honoring him. His mind groped, terrified and blind, among black shadows.
Marrineal, for once allowing discomposure to ruffle65 his imperturbability66, rose to check the exodus67.
"Gentlemen! One moment, if you please. As soon as--"
The rest was lost to Banneker as he beheld68 Edmonds rear his spare form up from his chair a few paces away. Reckless of ceremony now, the central figure of the feast rose.
"Edmonds! Pop!"
The veteran stopped, turning the slow, sad judgment of his eyes upon the other.
"What is it?" appealed Banneker. "What's happened? Tell me."
"Willis Enderby is dead."
The query69, which forced itself from Banneker's lips, was a self-accusation. "By his own hand?"
"By yours," answered Edmonds, and strode from the place.
Groping, Banneker's fingers encountered a bottle, closed about it, drew it in. He poured and drank. He thought it wine. Not until the reeking70 stab of brandy struck to his brain did he realize the error.... All right. Brandy. He needed it. He was going to make a speech. What speech? How did it begin.... What was this that Marrineal was saying? "In view of the tragic71 news.... Call off the speech-making?" Not at all! He, Banneker, must have his chance. He could explain everything.
Brilliantly, convincingly to his own mind, he began. It was all right; only the words in their eagerness to set forth the purity of his motives72, the unimpeachable73 rectitude of his standards, became confused. Somebody was plucking at his arm. Ives? All right? Ives was a good fellow, after all.... Yes: he'd go home--with Ives. Ives would understand.
All the way back to The House With Three Eyes he explained himself; any fair-minded man would see that he had done his best. Ives was fair-minded; he saw it. Ives was a man of judgment. Therefore, when he suggested bed, he must be right. Very weary, Banneker was. He felt very, very wretched about Enderby. He'd explain it all to Enderby in the morning--no: couldn't do that, though. Enderby was dead. Queer idea, that! What was it that violent-minded idiot, Pop Edmonds, had said? He'd settle with Pop in the morning. Now he'd go to sleep....
He woke to utter misery74. In the first mail came the letter, now expected, from Io. It completed the catastrophe75 in which his every hope was swept away.
I have tried to make myself believe (she wrote) that you could not have Betrayed him; that you would not, at least, have let me, who loved you, be, unknowingly, the agent of his destruction. But the black record comes back to me. The Harvey Wheelwright editorial, which seemed so light a thing, then. The lie that beat Robert Laird. The editorial that you dared not print, after promising76. All of one piece. How could I ever have trusted you!
Oh, Ban, Ban! When I think of what we have been to each other; how gladly, how proudly, I gave myself to you, to find you unfaithful! Is that the price of success? And unfaithful in such a way! If you had been untrue to me in the conventional sense, I think it would have been a small matter compared to this betrayal. That would have been a thing of the senses, a wound to the lesser77 part of our love. But this--Couldn't you see that our relation demanded more of faith, of fidelity78, than marriage, to justify79 it and sustain it; more idealism, more truth, more loyalty80 to what we were to each other? And now this!
If it were I alone that you have betrayed, I could bear my own remorse81; perhaps even think it retribution for what I have done. But how can I--and how can you--bear the remorse of the disaster that will fall upon Camilla Van Arsdale, your truest friend? What is there left to her, now that the man she loves is to be hounded out of public life by blackmailers? I have not told her. I have not been able to tell her. Perhaps he will write her, himself. How can she bear it! I am going away, leaving a companion in charge of her.
Camilla Van Arsdale! One last drop of bitterness in the cup of suffering. Neither she nor Io had, of course, learned of Enderby's death, and could not for several days, until the newspapers reached them. Banneker perceived clearly the thing that was laid upon him to do. He must go out to Manzanita and take the news to her. That was part of his punishment. He sent a telegram to Mindle, his factotum82 on the ground.
Hold all newspapers from Miss C. until I get there, if you have to rob mails. E.B.
Without packing his things, without closing his house, without resigning his editorship, he took the next train for Manzanita. Io, coming East, and still unaware83 of the final tragedy, passed him, halfway84.
While the choir85 was chanting, over the body of Willis Enderby, the solemn glory of Royce Melvin's funeral hymn86, the script of which had been found attached to his last statement, Banneker, speeding westward87, was working out, in agony of soul, a great and patient penance88, for his own long observance, planning the secret and tireless ritual through which Camilla Van Arsdale should keep intact her pure and long delayed happiness while her life endured.
收听单词发音 |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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redound
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| v.有助于；提；报应 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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aspiring
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| adj.有志气的；有抱负的；高耸的v.渴望；追求 | |
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enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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ovation
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| n.欢呼，热烈欢迎，热烈鼓掌 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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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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breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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irreconcilable
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| adj.（指人）难和解的，势不两立的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pitfalls
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| （捕猎野兽用的）陷阱( pitfall的名词复数 )； 意想不到的困难，易犯的错误 | |
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journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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beguiles
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| v.欺骗( beguile的第三人称单数 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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killings
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| 谋杀( killing的名词复数 )； 突然发大财，暴发 | |
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forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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cocktails
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| n.鸡尾酒( cocktail的名词复数 )；餐前开胃菜；混合物 | |
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poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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glaze
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| v.因疲倦、疲劳等指眼睛变得呆滞，毫无表情 | |
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abstemious
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| adj.有节制的，节俭的 | |
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goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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visualization
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| n.想像，设想 | |
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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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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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65
ruffle
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| v.弄皱，弄乱；激怒，扰乱；n.褶裥饰边 | |
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66
imperturbability
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| n.冷静；沉着 | |
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67
exodus
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| v.大批离去，成群外出 | |
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68
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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69
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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70
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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71
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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72
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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73
unimpeachable
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| adj.无可指责的；adv.无可怀疑地 | |
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74
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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75
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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76
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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77
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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78
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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79
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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80
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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81
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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82
factotum
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| n.杂役；听差 | |
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83
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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84
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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85
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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86
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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87
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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88
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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