To-day the Louvre recruits its visitors chiefly from provincial9 folk and foreigners. Cook's tourists, open-mouthed, heavy-booted, and breathless, rush headlong through the rooms, their feet resounding10 noisily on the highly polished parquet11 floors, slippery as ice and shining like mirrors, rudely disturbing the almost religious silence of the deserted12 galleries. Like a flock of stupid sheep driven by a hoarse-voiced shepherd who acts as official guide, they stumble from room to room, following the long, puzzling labyrinth13 of corridors, understanding nothing of the stereotyped15 explanations shouted at them, merely glancing at and quite indifferent to, the art wealth of the centuries which looks disdainfully down upon them from every side. Attendants in uniform, a cocked hat worn jauntily18 over their left ear, an expression of utter weariness on their stolid19, soldier-like faces, walk listlessly up and down with measured tread, secretly despising these foreign barbarians20 who display so little interest in the great masters, watching with eagleeye that one of the vandals does not stick his umbrella through a priceless Rembrandt or Correggio.
Here and there, secluded21 in distant corners, sitting or standing14 near favorite pictures, which they have come to love as though they were their own, are the true art lovers, the copyists, who spend weeks, months, sometimes years in futile22 attempts to transfer to modern canvas the wonderful transparent23 coloring of a Tintoretto, a da Vinci or a Raphael. They are of both sexes. Some are old and others are young. One is a venerable old man, with long, snow-white hair and patriarchal beard, who for half a century has earned a scant24 living copying the masters. Others are neatly25 dressed, slim-looking girls—art students of all nations—timidly trying to reproduce works whose fame has rung around the world. Monday is the copyists' favorite day, for then the great Museum is closed to the general public, and by special permission the artists have the huge palace and its precious contents all to themselves. They are not annoyed by the crowding and rude staring of thoughtless strangers. Bent26 over their easels, they are alone in the great palace, amid silence as heavy and impressive as that in a church.
Perched on top of a high stool, her fingers skillfully, yet delicately plying27 the brush, a young woman sat copying one of Raphael's Madonnas. The picture showed the Virgin28, radiant and beatified, holding the chubby29 Infant Jesus, while Joseph, slightly in the background, looks benignly30 on. The coloring in the original was wonderful. The transparent blue of Mary's gown, the living flesh tints31 of both mother and Child were well-nigh unattainable with modern pigments32, and the young artist, descending33 from the stool to get a better perspective, made a gesture of discouragement as she realized how far her own work fell short.
She was a tall, striking-looking brunette with large dark eyes and classic features crowned by a mass of black hair, carelessly yet not unbecomingly arranged. Her girlish, slender figure suggested youth, while the delicate features and a broad intellectual forehead indicated refinement34 and more than average intelligence. Dressed in deep mourning, the sombre garments emphasized still more sharply the extreme pallor of her face. Her eyes were red as if from recent weeping. Just now, however, her thoughts were concentrated on the important work on hand, and so engrossed35 was she in her painting that she did not hear a man's approaching footsteps. He was close up to her before she was aware of his proximity36.[Pg 40]
"Well, Paula," he called out in stentorian37 tones, "how is it going?"
Startled, the young girl turned quickly. When she saw who it was, her face broke into a smile.
"Oh, Mr. Ricaby, how you frightened me! I did not hear you coming. These galleries are so lonely that even one's friends scare one." Pointing to the canvas resting on the easel in front of her, she exclaimed gleefully: "See how hard I've been working!"
The newcomer, a smooth-faced man of forty with whitening hair and kind gray eyes, smiled indulgently as he silently noted38 the morning's progress. Yet his attention was not given exclusively to the picture. By the glance he gave the canvas and the way he looked at the artist, a keen observer might have guessed which he admired most. That he was in love with the girl was plain enough on the circumstantial evidence alone, nor was it less clear that either she was ignorant of his feelings, or did not care. True, he was old enough to be her father. To her, he was a good friend, nothing more. Long ago he had realized this, and the love words on his lips had always died away before they were spoken. He suffered in silence. When a man of forty loves for the first time—it hurts.
Leon Ricaby was intended for the church. His personality as well as his training made that his natural vocation40. His pale, ascetic-looking face, with its spiritual, thoughtful expression gave him an appearance quite clerical, while his rich and resonant41 voice, and grave, deliberate enunciation42 constantly suggested pulpit eloquence43. Even as a boy he was serious and studious, and as he approached manhood his mind became filled with noble ideas regarding the uplifting of mankind. He became an idealist, and, not content with mere16 words, carried his theories into the New York slums, doing more than his share in the work of rescuing the degraded and unfortunate. He felt within a call to the ministry44, and, on taking holy orders, had entered upon his duties with all the impassioned fervor45 of a zealot. To established dogmas he paid little heed46. Christ was his Church. He tried to model his own life after that of the humble47 Nazarene. But he soon realized the impossibility of leading a consistent Christ-like life amid twentieth-century conditions. He found no trace of Christ anywhere. Within the Church itself there was not only an unholy traffic in preferments, but he found his fellow clergy48, curates, rectors, bishops49 at war among themselves, self-seeking, greedy for power and money. The men and women in his congregations were envious50, selfish, malicious51, hypocritical.[Pg 42] It made him sick at heart, and when he found that he could no longer reconcile the inconsistencies of spiritual truths to his intellectual point of view, he left the Church and took up the study of law. Admitted to the Bar, he began to practice in New York, but only with indifferent success. In this career, also, his conscience proved a stumbling block. He soon discovered that men employed him not to teach them how to obey the law, but how to evade52 it. Again he rebelled. He refused cases that did violence to his principles no matter how profitable they might be. He declined to defend law breakers whom he knew to be guilty. Those persons of whose innocence53 he was assured, he would defend with all the energy and skill at his command, giving his services gratuitously54 to those who could not afford to pay, and in the court-room his outbursts of eloquence seldom failed to convince the jury. Thus for years he plodded55 on according to his conscience. He was not rich. Such rare triumphs as he scored in the courts could not make him wealthy. A long spell of hard work had caused a breakdown56 in his health, and on his physician's advice he had taken a trip to Europe. In Paris he had run across Paula Marsh57 whose acquaintance he had made in America.
He had first met her when she was doing Settlement[Pg 43] work in New York's Ghetto58. A consistent altruist59, even after he began to practice law, he did not lose his interest in the splendid organizations which seek to improve the conditions of the poor. He found Paula the leader of a group of ardent60 young women—all girls of easy circumstances, yet willing to forego social pleasures, and spend their days in congested districts, visiting filthy61 tenements62 reeking63 with disease-laden air, in order to alleviate64 human suffering and bring a ray of comfort to unfortunates who had almost abandoned hope. This, mused65 the lawyer, was true Christianity. He found that Paula had convictions and ideas which were in sympathy with his own views and this naturally drew them together. As the intimacy66 grew Leon Ricaby began to nourish in his heart the hope that one day he could make Paula his wife, but the wish thus far, at least, had found no response in his companion. She enjoyed the society of this man who had struggled and suffered, whose ideals had been shattered. She admired him for his moral courage in living up to his principles, but that he expected she might ever be more to him than a friend had never for an instant entered her thoughts. A good friend he certainly had been. When her mother died he alone consoled her in her sorrow, and now that this new crisis had arisen in her life—the sudden death of her father, necessitating67 her immediate68 return to America—he stood ready to assist her again with his advice and protection.
"Well—where have you been all morning?" she asked lightly.
"Running all over Paris," he answered. "I've seen the house agent and arranged for the cancellation69 of the lease of your apartment. I've been to the steamship70 office and booked our passages. We sail on the Touraine next Saturday."
Paula dropped her palette and looked up in consternation71.
"Next Saturday—the day after to-morrow?" she exclaimed. "It's impossible! It will take another fortnight to finish this picture."
Mr. Ricaby shook his head.
"Then the picture must remain unfinished," he said impatiently. "We must sail Saturday." Changing his tone, he went on almost coaxingly72: "Surely, Paula, you realize what is at stake! There is no time to be lost. The cable announcing your father's death reached you five days ago. According to his instructions the old will was not to be opened until three weeks after his demise73. That will give us just time to reach New York before the old will is offered for probate. Don't you see the danger of delay? A large fortune awaits you. If you don't go to America and claim it, you may lose it all. Can't you be ready?"
The girl's pale face flushed with anger. Hotly she said:
"I can't go until my work is done. You lawyers are all alike—only the material, sordid74 things of life have any weight with you. I think more of my work than of all the money in the world—you know that. Why must I go to America? To be compelled to meet and be pleasant to relatives who at this moment are unaware75 of my very existence, and who will have every reason to detest76 me and consider me an interloper. I hate America. What has America ever done for me? It robbed me all these years of a father who, had he seen more of his only child, might have learned to love me. Its severe climate killed my mother, and, when she went, I was alone—without even a friend."
"Have you forgotten me?" he interrupted quietly.
Quick to remark the note of reproach in his voice, she held out her hand:
"Forgive me," she murmured. "It is most ungrateful of me to talk like that. Yes—you are indeed my friend. I shall never be able to repay all that you have done for me. Forgive me. This sudden terrible news from America has unnerved me. I'm all unstrung. Don't mind what I say. I'll go to New York if you think it necessary, but my work—what of my work?"
"Your work?" he echoed gravely. "Haven't you other work left undone77 in New York? Work more important than that you are now doing?"
"What work?"
"Your Settlement work—have you forgotten those poor people in the slums who each day looked forward to your coming as if you were an angel sent from Heaven to dry their tears and bid them not despair? Has it not occurred to you during these past few days what God might wish you to do with the large fortune your father has left you? You are so different to most women. You are not vain, selfish, preoccupied78 only with foolish, trivial pleasures. At least I think you are not. I like to imagine that you are one of those noble women who would not hesitate to devote her life, her fortune, to the cause of suffering humanity. Think what good you might do with your inheritance. Paula—surely you realize that this is the opportunity of your life!"
He spoke39 eloquently79, pleadingly, his resonant voice resounding rich and mellow80 through the empty corridors. As the girl listened, her face grew thoughtful. She clasped and unclasped her hands nervously81. Her large, luminous82 eyes shone with a new light. Rapidly, spasmodically, with growing exaltation, she replied:
"Yes—yes—you are right. I had not thought of that. My work is there—not here. We will go at once—at once. I'll start packing immediately."
Mr. Ricaby smiled.
"That's the way to talk," he said cheerily. "You see I knew you better than you knew yourself. Of course, it won't be altogether plane sailing. You must be prepared for——"
He hesitated.
"Prepared for what?" she demanded, looking at him curiously.
"Well, you see, you'll have to meet your relatives, and, as they are totally ignorant of your very existence, your sudden appearance will be a shock to them, especially to your Uncle James who, during all these years, has come to look upon the money as his own."
"Poor Uncle James!" she murmured. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't waste any sympathy on him. He isn't worth it," smiled the lawyer. "Your uncle, I'm sorry to say, does not enjoy a very good reputation in New York. His brother knew his character and would have nothing to do with him. Your father kept his marriage a secret from him and rather than destroy the old will, in which he had left James everything, he made a new one leaving everything to you."
Paula turned away in order to hide the tears that filled her eyes.
"Poor father," she murmured. "I would rather have had his love than his money."
A lump rose in the lawyer's throat, and, the better to conceal83 his feelings, he suddenly became interested in the surrounding paintings. His heart went out to this orphaned84 girl. Practically she stood alone in the world to fight her battles. He realized the probability of the later will being fiercely contested. He thought with forebodings of the impending85 and long drawn-out legal battle, of all the insults that the disappointed James Marsh and his family would heap upon this defenceless girl—their hints of illegitimacy and other unscrupulous methods of attack, all of which would distress87 and humiliate88 a delicate and sensitive girl. If she knew what was in store for her, perhaps she would hesitate. But she would not fight the battle alone as long as he was able to champion her cause. He would see that her rights were fully17 protected.
Taking up her palette and brushes Paula went on with her painting. Quietly she said:
"Very well, Mr. Ricaby. You know best. We will sail on Saturday."
"I have still a little to finish. Then I'm done for the day. I can't work in the afternoon—the light is not good. Couldn't you make it half an hour later?"
"Certainly. That will give me time to go to the American Express office. I must see them about shipping90 your baggage. I'll come back for you in half an hour."
He lifted his hat and went away.
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1
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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3
suffocation
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| n.窒息 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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antiquities
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| n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 )；古迹；古人们；古代的风俗习惯 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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10
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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parquet
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| n.镶木地板 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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13
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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14
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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15
stereotyped
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| adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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16
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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17
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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jauntily
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| adv.心满意足地；洋洋得意地；高兴地；活泼地 | |
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19
stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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20
barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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21
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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22
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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23
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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24
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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26
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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27
plying
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的现在分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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28
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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29
chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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benignly
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| adv.仁慈地，亲切地 | |
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31
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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32
pigments
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| n.（粉状）颜料( pigment的名词复数 )；天然色素 | |
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33
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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34
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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stentorian
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| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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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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40
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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41
resonant
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| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
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42
enunciation
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| n.清晰的发音；表明，宣言；口齿 | |
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43
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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44
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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45
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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46
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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47
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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49
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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50
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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51
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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52
evade
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| vt.逃避，回避；避开，躲避 | |
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53
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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54
gratuitously
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| 平白 | |
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55
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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56
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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57
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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58
ghetto
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| n.少数民族聚居区，贫民区 | |
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59
altruist
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| n.利他主义者，爱他主义者 | |
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60
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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61
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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tenements
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| n.房屋，住户，租房子( tenement的名词复数 ) | |
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63
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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64
alleviate
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| v.减轻，缓和，缓解(痛苦等) | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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66
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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67
necessitating
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的现在分词 ) | |
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68
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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69
cancellation
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| n.删除，取消 | |
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70
steamship
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| n.汽船，轮船 | |
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71
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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72
coaxingly
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| adv. 以巧言诱哄，以甘言哄骗 | |
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73
demise
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| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
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74
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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78
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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79
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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orphaned
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| [计][修]孤立 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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