Mercedes suggested, and Saxon carried out and even bettered, the dainty things of thread and texture4. She made ruffled5 chemises of sheer linen6, with her own fine edgings and French embroidery7 on breast and shoulders; linen hand-made combination undersuits; and nightgowns, fairy and cobwebby, embroidered8, trimmed with Irish lace. On Mercedes' instigation she executed an ambitious and wonderful breakfast cap for which the old woman returned her twelve dollars after deducting9 commission.
She was happy and busy every waking moment, nor was preparation for the little one neglected. The only ready made garments she bought were three fine little knit shirts. As for the rest, every bit was made by her own hands—featherstitched pinning blankets, a crocheted10 jacket and cap, knitted mittens11, embroidered bonnets12; slim little princess slips of sensible length; underskirts on absurd Lilliputian yokes13; silk-embroidered white flannel14 petticoats; stockings and crocheted boots, seeming to burgeon15 before her eyes with wriggly16 pink toes and plump little calves17; and last, but not least, many deliciously soft squares of bird's-eye linen. A little later, as a crowning masterpiece, she was guilty of a dress coat of white silk, embroidered. And into all the tiny garments, with every stitch, she sewed love. Yet this love, so unceasingly sewn, she knew when she came to consider and marvel19, was more of Billy than of the nebulous, ungraspable new bit of life that eluded20 her fondest attempts at visioning.
“Huh,” was Billy's comment, as he went over the mite21's wardrobe and came back to center on the little knit shirts, “they look more like a real kid than the whole kit22 an' caboodle. Why, I can see him in them regular manshirts.”
Saxon, with a sudden rush of happy, unshed tears, held one of the little shirts up to his lips. He kissed it solemnly, his eyes resting on Saxon's.
“That's some for the boy,” he said, “but a whole lot for you.”
But Saxon's money-earning was doomed23 to cease ignominiously24 and tragically25. One day, to take advantage of a department store bargain sale, she crossed the bay to San Francisco. Passing along Sutter Street, her eye was attracted by a display in the small window of a small shop. At first she could not believe it; yet there, in the honored place of the window, was the wonderful breakfast cap for which she had received twelve dollars from Mercedes. It was marked twenty-eight dollars. Saxon went in and interviewed the shopkeeper, an emaciated26, shrewd-eyed and aged28" target="_blank">middle-aged27 woman of foreign extraction.
“Oh, I don't want to buy anything,” Saxon said. “I make nice things like you have here, and I wanted to know what you pay for them—for that breakfast cap in the window, for instance.”
The woman darted29 a keen glance to Saxon's left hand, noted30 the innumerable tiny punctures31 in the ends of the first and second fingers, then appraised32 her clothing and her face.
“Can you do work like that?”
Saxon nodded.
“I paid twenty dollars to the woman that made that.” Saxon repressed an almost spasmodic gasp33, and thought coolly for a space. Mercedes had given her twelve. Then Mercedes had pocketed eight, while she, Saxon, had furnished the material and labor34.
“Would you please show me other hand-made things -- nightgowns, chemises, and such things, and tell me the prices you pay?”
“Can you do such work?”
“Yes.”
“And will you sell to me?”
“Certainly,” Saxon answered. “That is why I am here.”
“We add only a small amount when we sell,” the woman went on; “you see, light and rent and such things, as well as a profit or else we could not be here.”
“It's only fair,” Saxon agreed.
Amongst the beautiful stuff Saxon went over, she found a nightgown and a combination undersuit of her own manufacture. For the former she had received eight dollars from Mercedes, it was marked eighteen, and the woman had paid fourteen; for the latter Saxon received six, it was marked fifteen, and the woman had paid eleven.
“Thank you,” Saxon said, as she drew on her gloves. “I should like to bring you some of my work at those prices.”
“And I shall be glad to buy it... if it is up to the mark.” The woman looked at her severely35. “Mind you, it must be as good as this. And if it is, I often get special orders, and I'll give you a chance at them.”
“You told me you took only a commission,” was Saxon's accusation37.
“So I did; and so I have.”
“But I did all the work and bought all the materials, yet you actually cleared more out of it than I did. You got the lion's share.”
“And why shouldn't I, my dear? I was the middleman. It's the way of the world. 'Tis the middlemen that get the lion's share.”
“It seems to me most unfair,” Saxon reflected, more in sadness than anger.
“That is your quarrel with the world, not with me,” Mercedes rejoined sharply, then immediately softened38 with one of her quick changes. “We mustn't quarrel, my dear. I like you so much. La la, it is nothing to you, who are young and strong with a man young and strong. Listen, I am an old woman. And old Barry can do little for me. He is on his last legs. His kidneys are 'most gone. Remember, 'tis I must bury him. And I do him honor, for beside me he'll have his last long sleep. A stupid, dull old man, heavy, an ox, 'tis true; but a good old fool with no trace of evil in him. The plot is bought and paid for—the final installment39 was made up, in part, out of my commissions from you. Then there are the funeral expenses. It must be done nicely. I have still much to save. And Barry may turn up his toes any day.”
“Come, my dear, let me show you.” Leading Saxon to a large sea chest in the bedroom, Mercedes lifted the lid. A faint perfume, as of rose-petals, floated up. “Behold, my burial trousseau. Thus I shall wed18 the dust.”
Saxon's amazement41 increased, as, article by article, the old woman displayed the airiest, the daintiest, the most delicious and most complete of bridal outfits42. Mercedes held up an ivory fan.
“In Venice 'twas given me, my dear.—See, this comb, turtle shell; Bruce Anstey made it for me the week before he drank his last bottle and scattered43 his brave mad brains with a Colt's 44.—This scarf. La la, a Liberty scarf—”
Mercedes laughed.
“Why not? I shall die as I have lived. It is my pleasure. I go to the dust as a bride. No cold and narrow bed for me. I would it were a coach, covered with the soft things of the East, and pillows, pillows, without end.”
“It would buy you twenty funerals and twenty plots,” Saxon protested, shocked by this blasphemy45 of conventional death. “It is downright wicked.”
“'Twill be as I have lived,” Mercedes said complacently46. “And it's a fine bride old Barry'll have to come and lie beside him.” She closed the lid and sighed. “Though I wish it were Bruce Anstey, or any of the pick of my young men to lie with me in the great dark and to crumble47 with me to the dust that is the real death.”
She gazed at Saxon with eyes heated by alcohol and at the same time cool with the coolness of content.
“In the old days the great of earth were buried with their live slaves with them. I but take my flimsies, my dear.”
“Then you aren't afraid of death?... in the least?”
Mercedes shook her head emphatically.
“Death is brave, and good, and kind. I do not fear death. 'Tis of men I am afraid when I am dead. So I prepare. They shall not have me when I am dead.”
Saxon was puzzled.
“They would not want you then,” she said.
“Many are wanted,” was the answer. “Do you know what becomes of the aged poor who have no money for burial? They are not buried. Let me tell you. We stood before great doors. He was a queer man, a professor who ought to have been a pirate, a man who lectured in class rooms when he ought to have been storming walled cities or robbing banks. He was slender, like Don Juan. His hands were strong as steel. So was his spirit. And he was mad, a bit mad, as all my young men have been. 'Come, Mercedes,' he said; 'we will inspect our brethren and become humble48, and glad that we are not as they—as yet not yet. And afterward49, to-night, we will dine with a more devilish taste, and we will drink to them in golden wine that will be the more golden for having seen them. Come, Mercedes.'
“He thrust the great doors open, and by the hand led me in. It was a sad company. Twenty-four, that lay on marble slabs50, or sat, half erect51 and propped52, while many young men, bright of eye, bright little knives in their hands, glanced curiously53 at me from their work.”
“They were dead?” Saxon interrupted to gasp.
“They were the pauper54 dead, my dear. 'Come, Mercedes,' said he. 'There is more to show you that will make us glad we are alive.' And he took me down, down to the vats56. The salt vats, my dear. I was not afraid. But it was in my mind, then, as I looked, how it would be with me when I was dead. And there they were, so many lumps of pork. And the order came, 'A woman; an old woman.' And the man who worked there fished in the vats. The first was a man he drew to see. Again he fished and stirred. Again a man. He was impatient, and grumbled57 at his luck. And then, up through the brine, he drew a woman, and by the face of her she was old, and he was satisfied.”
“It is not true!” Saxon cried out.
“I have seen, my dear, I know. And I tell you fear not the wrath58 of God when you are dead. Fear only the salt vats. And as I stood and looked, and as he who led me there looked at me and smiled and questioned and bedeviled me with those mad, black, tired-scholar's eyes of his, I knew that that was no way for my dear clay. Dear it is, my clay to me; dear it has been to others. La la, the salt vat55 is no place for my kissed lips and love-lavished body.” Mercedes lifted the lid of the chest and gazed fondly at her burial pretties. “So I have made my bed. So I shall lie in it. Some old philosopher said we know we must die; we do not believe it. But the old do believe. I believe.
“My dear, remember the salt vats, and do not be angry with me because my commissions have been heavy. To escape the vats I would stop at nothing -- steal the widow's mite, the orphan's crust, and pennies from a dead man's eyes.”
“Who knows? I shall rest well.”
“And punishment?” Saxon probed, remembering the unthinkable tale of the other's life.
“Impossible, my dear. As some old poet said, 'God's a good fellow.' Some time I shall talk to you about God. Never be afraid of him. Be afraid only of the salt vats and the things men may do with your pretty flesh after you are dead.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
pricked
|
|
| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
earnings
|
|
| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
texture
|
|
| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
ruffled
|
|
| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
embroidery
|
|
| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
embroidered
|
|
| adj．绣花的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
deducting
|
|
| v.扣除，减去( deduct的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
crocheted
|
|
| v.用钩针编织( crochet的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
mittens
|
|
| 不分指手套 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
bonnets
|
|
| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
yokes
|
|
| 轭( yoke的名词复数 )； 奴役； 轭形扁担； 上衣抵肩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
flannel
|
|
| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
burgeon
|
|
| v.萌芽，发芽；迅速发展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
wriggly
|
|
| adj.蠕动的，回避的；蜿蜒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
calves
|
|
| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
wed
|
|
| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
marvel
|
|
| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
eluded
|
|
| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
mite
|
|
| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
kit
|
|
| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
ignominiously
|
|
| adv.耻辱地，屈辱地，丢脸地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
tragically
|
|
| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
emaciated
|
|
| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
punctures
|
|
| n.（尖物刺成的）小孔( puncture的名词复数 )；（尤指）轮胎穿孔；（尤指皮肤上被刺破的）扎孔；刺伤v.在（某物）上穿孔( puncture的第三人称单数 )；刺穿（某物）；削弱（某人的傲气、信心等）；泄某人的气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
appraised
|
|
| v.估价( appraise的过去式和过去分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
labor
|
|
| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
severely
|
|
| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
candid
|
|
| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
accusation
|
|
| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
installment
|
|
| n.(instalment)分期付款；(连载的)一期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
sniffed
|
|
| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
outfits
|
|
| n.全套装备( outfit的名词复数 )；一套服装；集体；组织v.装备，配置设备，供给服装( outfit的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
mused
|
|
| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
blasphemy
|
|
| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
complacently
|
|
| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
crumble
|
|
| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
slabs
|
|
| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
propped
|
|
| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
pauper
|
|
| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
vat
|
|
| n.(=value added tax)增值税，大桶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
vats
|
|
| varieties 变化，多样性，种类 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
grumbled
|
|
| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |