A little pile of letters lay on the table beside him, also a small silver paper-knife. Ten minutes previously5 he had cut the envelopes with careful precision and glanced through the contents. Apparently6 he had found in them little of interest, and now his attention was entirely7 absorbed by a couple of frizzled rolls of bacon on the plate before him.
The door opened noiselessly and the butler entered. He carried a tray on which was a plate, and on the plate was a small brown egg in a silver egg-cup. General Carden was somewhat particular as to the size and colour of the eggs of which he partook. The butler placed the plate on the table, then stood in an attitude suggestive of military attention.
“Any orders for the car, sir? Alcott is here, sir.”
“The car at eleven,” said General Carden, still busy with the bacon. “And, Goring8, see that those library books are put in.”
“Very good, sir. Is that all, sir?”
“Yes; nothing else.”
The butler withdrew, and General Carden continued his breakfast. Marmalade and a second cup of coffee followed the egg. General Carden made a good deal of the fact that he [Pg 54]enjoyed his breakfast. It was to him a sign that old age was not yet encroaching.
Breakfast over, he crossed the hall to a small study, where he took a cigarette from a silver box and lighted it. Then he sat down in a chair near the window with the morning paper. It seldom afforded him much satisfaction, however. England, in his opinion, was going to the dogs, and it only annoyed him to see the printed record of its progress towards that deplorable end.
After a few moments he threw the paper from him with a faintly muttered “Damn it, sir!” He had seen that in a by-election a seat had been won by one of the Labour party.
“Going to the dogs, sir; entirely to the dogs!” he muttered. And then he looked out of the window at the people in the street, which street was bathed in May sunshine.
The gardens opposite looked extraordinarily9 green and spring-like, and nurses with perambulators and children of various sizes were passing along the pavement by the iron railings. They and the sunshine struck a very definite note of buoyancy and youth, and for a moment General Carden felt not entirely as young as he could wish. [Pg 55]The room seemed a little lonely, and the house rather large for one occupant—servants, naturally, did not count. General Carden did not exactly express this thought to his mind in words. He was not a man given to sentimentality either in thought or speech. It was merely represented by a little indefinite and not very pleasant impression. He wheeled his chair round to his writing-desk, which he unlocked, and began looking through various letters with a show of businesslike energy.
Some half-hour or so later he appeared in the hall. The butler was there already with an overcoat, a silk hat, and an air of reserved dignity. He put General Carden into the overcoat and handed him the hat.
“Have you put the books in the car?” asked General Carden.
“Ah! yes, of course, of course; I mentioned it at breakfast.” General Carden took up his gloves and passed into the sunshine down the steps, an upright figure in grey overcoat, white spats11, and hat shining glossily12 in the light.
“Good morning, Alcott; the car running well?”
“First rate, sir.”
“That’s right; that’s right. You can take a turn in the Park and afterwards go to Mudie’s.”
“Very good, sir.”
General Carden got in, and the car purred gently up the street.
He settled himself comfortably into a corner, and glanced at the books on the seat opposite to him. He had a subscription13 at Mudie’s, and kept himself thoroughly14 up in the present-day novel. He did not care to hear a new book mentioned and have to allow that he had not read it. Of course, the present-day literature could not compare with that of the older novelists—that was hardly to be expected. Scott, Dickens, Thackeray—he ran through them in his mind—where was the writer of the moment who could compare with them? Who could touch the romance of Scott, the humour of Dickens, the courtliness of Thackeray? Where was there a man in present fiction able to stand beside the fine old figure of General Newcome? No; romance, humour, courtliness, had vanished, and in their place were divorce accounts, ragging—an appalling15 [Pg 57]word,—and suffragettes. The world was not what it had been in his young days. He did not, however, express this opinion blatantly16; to do so would have savoured of old-fogyism. Oh, no; he flattered himself he kept abreast17 of the times, and only deplored18 certain modern innovations, as they were deplored by all those who still held to the fragments of refinement19 and courtliness that remained in the world.
As the car turned into the Park, General Carden sat rather more upright. He watched the carriages and their occupants with attention, his old eyes keen to observe and note any of them he knew. And when he did, off came that glossy20 silk hat with a bow and a gesture worthy21 of a courtier. However much abreast of the times he might choose to consider himself, in his heart he knew he was of the old school, and one even older than that of his own youth. He belonged, this courtly old man, to the delightful22 old school where men treated women with chivalry23 and protection, and where women in their turn accepted these things with delicate grace and charm; where conversation had meant a pretty display of wit, a keen fencing of words, where brusquerie was a thing unknown; and where a fine and subtle irony24 had stood in the place of a certain curt25 rudeness noticeable in the present day. Yet all that was of the past. It would be as out of place now as would be one of those dainty ladies of old years, in powder and brocade, among the tight-skirted women in Bond Street. But very deep down in his heart General Carden knew it was the school which he loved, and of which he allowed himself occasionally to dream. Those dreams were dreamt mainly on winter evenings in a chair before the study fire. And then, very surreptitiously, General Carden would bring a tiny gold box from his pocket—a dainty octagon box with an exquisite26 bit of old enamel27, blue as a sapphire28, let into the lid—and, opening it, he would take an infinitesimal pinch of brown powder between his first finger and thumb. He was always most extremely careful that no single grain of it should fall on his white shirt-front. Goring’s eyes were at times unaccountably sharp. He was not going to be caught snuff-taking by a man who might look upon it as a sign of old age advancing. The little gold box, when not on his own person, was kept locked in a small antique cabinet in his dressing-room.
Apparently there were many people in the Park that morning whom General Carden knew. A big car hummed past with a small woman in it, a woman who looked almost tiny in the car’s capacious depths. She had a pointed29 little face and masses of fair hair. Off came General Carden’s hat. This was Muriel Lancing. He had known her as Muriel Grey, when she was a small girl in short skirts. She had married a certain Tommy Lancing a refreshing30 young man with red hair and freckles31 and a comfortable private income. General Carden’s eyes smiled at the girl. In spite of a certain airy up-to-dateness, he liked her. She was so dainty, so piquante, and such an inscrutable mixture of child, woman of the world, and elfin. One never knew which of the three might not appear on the surface. Also he liked Tommy, who always contrived32 to put a certain air of deference33 into his manner towards the General, which secretly pleased that critical white-haired, old veteran immensely.
After a few moments he saw another of his friends, and again the hat came off, this time with perhaps even something more of courtliness. The woman in the victoria was very nearly a contemporary [Pg 60]his. Quite a contemporary, General Carden reflected—ignoring the fifteen years which lay between them, and which were, it must be stated, to the advantage of Mrs. Cresswell. She was a woman with white hair rolled high, somewhat after the style of a Gainsborough portrait, and a clear-cut aristocratic face. She belonged unquestionably to his school, and their conversations were an invariable delicate sword-play of words. Even if she were generally the victor—and in the art of conversation he was willing to concede her the palm—yet he flattered himself he was no mean opponent, and he had a pleasurable memory of some very pretty turns of repartee34 on his own part. She was a friend of long standing35, and one he valued.
Next came a much younger woman in a car, with a small boy beside her. This was Millicent Sheldon; the boy was her nephew. General Carden’s blue eyes were a little hard as he observed her, and there was just a suspicion of stiffness in his arm as he raised his hat. She responded with a slightly frigid36 bow, her face entirely immovable. There were reasons—most excellently good reasons—why there was a certain chilliness37 between these [Pg 61]two. They need not, however, be recorded at the moment.
Many other carriages and cars passed whose occupants General Carden knew, also a few foot-passengers, grey-haired veterans like himself, who walked upright and rather stiff, or younger men slightly insouciant38 of manner.
As his car was turning out of the Park another carriage turned in. In it was a young woman and an older one—much older; in fact, rather dried up and weather-beaten. This time General Carden did not raise his hat, though he observed the two women with interest. He had frequently noticed the carriage and its occupants during his morning drives in the Park. The younger woman attracted him. It was not merely the fact that she was beautiful, but there was an air of distinction about her, a well-bred distinguished39 air, that appealed to this old critic of women and manners. The men on the box wore cockades in their hats and plum-coloured livery. There was also a tiny coronet on the panel of the carriage door. In spite of the fact that General Carden’s sight was not entirely what it once had been, he noticed the coronet. He noticed, too, that the woman’s hair was black with [Pg 62]blue lights in it, that her skin was a pale cream, and her mouth a delicious and quite natural scarlet40; also that her small well-bred head was exquisitely41 set on a slender but young and rounded throat, and that it, in its turn, was set quite delightfully42 between her shoulders. There is no gainsaying43 the fact that General Carden was a very distinct connoisseur44 in matters feminine. He wondered who she was, and even after the carriage had passed he thought of her very finished appearance with pleasure. And it was by no means the first time that he had wondered, nor the first that he had experienced the feeling of pleasure at the sight of her.
In two or three minutes, so swift are the ways of cars, he was stopping opposite Mudie’s in Kensington High Street. A carriage with a pair of bay horses was waiting beyond the broad pavement outside the shop. General Carden recognized it as belonging to Mrs. Cresswell. Evidently she had left the Park before him.
He got out of the car and crossed the pavement to the shop. Mrs. Cresswell was also changing library books. She saw him approaching and gave him a smile—a smile at once brilliant, gay, and charmingly intimate, as was the privilege of an old friend.
“So we meet again,” she said in her crisp, pleasantly decided voice, and she held out her hand. “And how are you this fine May morning?”
“In most excellent health, thank you,” replied General Carden, taking the hand held out to him. “There is no need for me to ask how you are. You look, as you always do, radiant.” He accompanied the words with a gesture almost suggestive of a bow.
“How charming of you!” sighed Mrs. Cresswell, a little laugh in her eyes. “I always feel at least ten years younger when I meet you. And you are on the same errand bent45 as I. Well, here is one book I can certainly recommend. I am just returning it myself. It is by a new author, and is quite delightful—finished, light, and with a style all its own.” She held up a green-covered book as she spoke46, and General Carden read the gold-lettered title, Under the Span of the Rainbow.
Now, to be perfectly47 candid48, the title did not appeal to him who read it. In General Carden’s mind it suggested fairy-tales—light, airy, soap-bubbly things, iridescent49 and pretty enough for the moment, but quite unable to withstand the finger of criticism he would inevitably50 lay upon them. Yet the book was recommended by a woman, and that woman Mrs. Cresswell.
“Any recommendation of yours!” said General Carden gallantly51. And he put the book aside while he looked for a second one.
A young shopman made various deferential52 suggestions, and presently Mrs. Cresswell and General Carden were out again in the sunshine, General Carden bearing four library books.
“I shall expect to hear what you think of my recommendation,” said Mrs. Cresswell, as he handed her to her carriage and placed two of the books on the seat beside her. Her voice held perhaps the faintest intonation53 of significance. “Come and see me next Tuesday; I am at home, you know.”
“With all the pleasure in the world,” replied General Carden.
And then she gave him another of her gracious smiles as the bays moved off down the sunny street.
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1
aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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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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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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8
goring
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| v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破( gore的现在分词 ) | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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11
spats
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| n.口角( spat的名词复数 )；小争吵；鞋罩；鞋套v.spit的过去式和过去分词( spat的第三人称单数 )；口角；小争吵；鞋罩 | |
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12
glossily
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| 光滑地 | |
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subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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blatantly
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| ad.公开地 | |
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17
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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deplored
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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21
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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enamel
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| n.珐琅，搪瓷，瓷釉；(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
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28
sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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32
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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repartee
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| n.机敏的应答 | |
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35
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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frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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chilliness
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| n.寒冷，寒意，严寒 | |
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insouciant
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| adj.不在意的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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40
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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41
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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42
delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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43
gainsaying
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| v.否认，反驳( gainsay的现在分词 ) | |
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44
connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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45
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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46
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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47
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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48
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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49
iridescent
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| adj.彩虹色的，闪色的 | |
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50
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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51
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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52
deferential
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| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
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53
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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