Saxon strove to maintain that sweetness and coolness of flesh and spirit that Billy had praised in the old days. Once, only, she lost control. He had been in a particularly ugly mood, and a final harshness and unfairness cut her to the quick.
“Who are you speaking to?” she flamed out at him.
“Don't you ever speak to me like that again, Billy,” she commanded.
“Aw, can't you put up with a piece of bad temper?” he muttered, half apologetically, yet half defiantly15. “God knows I got enough to make me cranky.”
After he left the house she flung herself on the bed and cried heart-brokenly. For she, who knew so thoroughly16 the humility17 of love, was a proud woman. Only the proud can be truly humble18, as only the strong may know the fullness of gentleness. But what was the use, she demanded, of being proud and game, when the only person in the world who mattered to her lost his own pride and gameness and fairness and gave her the worse share of their mutual19 trouble?
And now, as she had faced alone the deeper, organic hurt of the loss of her baby, she faced alone another, and, in a way, an even greater personal trouble. Perhaps she loved Billy none the less, but her love was changing into something less proud, less confident, less trusting; it was becoming shot through with pity—with the pity that is parent to contempt. Her own loyalty20 was threatening to weaken, and she shuddered21 and shrank from the contempt she could see creeping in.
She struggled to steel herself to face the situation. Forgiveness stole into her heart, and she knew relief until the thought came that in the truest, highest love forgiveness should have no place. And again she cried, and continued her battle. After all, one thing was incontestable: THIS BILLY WAS NOT THE BILLY SHE HAD LOVED. This Billy was another man, a sick man, and no more to be held responsible than a fever-patient in the ravings of delirium22. She must be Billy's nurse, without pride, without contempt, with nothing to forgive. Besides, he was really bearing the brunt of the fight, was in the thick of it, dizzy with the striking of blows and the blows he received. If fault there was, it lay elsewhere, somewhere in the tangled23 scheme of things that made men snarl24 over jobs like dogs over bones.
So Saxon arose and buckled25 on her armor again for the hardest fight of all in the world's arena—the woman's fight. She ejected from her thought all doubting and distrust. She forgave nothing, for there was nothing requiring forgiveness. She pledged herself to an absoluteness of belief that her love and Billy's was unsullied, unperturbed—severe as it had always been, as it would be when it came back again after the world settled down once more to rational ways.
That night, when he came home, she proposed, as an emergency measure, that she should resume her needlework and help keep the pot boiling until the strike was over. But Billy would hear nothing of it.
“It's all right,” he assured her repeatedly. “They ain't no call for you to work. I'm goin' to get some money before the week is out. An' I'll turn it over to you. An' Saturday night we'll go to the show—a real show, no movin' pictures. Harvey's nigger minstrels is comin' to town. We'll go Saturday night. I'll have the money before that, as sure as beans is beans.”
Friday evening he did not come home to supper, which Saxon regretted, for Maggie Donahue had returned a pan of potatoes and two quarts of flour (borrowed the week before), and it was a hearty26 meal that awaited him. Saxon kept the stove going till nine o'clock, when, despite her reluctance27, she went to bed. Her preference would have been to wait up, but she did not dare, knowing full well what the effect would be on him did he come home in liquor.
The clock had just struck one, when she heard the click of the gate. Slowly, heavily, ominously28, she heard him come up the steps and fumble29 with his key at the door. He entered the bedroom, and she heard him sigh as he sat down. She remained quiet, for she had learned the hypersensitiveness induced by drink and was fastidiously careful not to hurt him even with the knowledge that she had lain awake for him. It was not easy. Her hands were clenched31 till the nails dented32 the palms, and her body was rigid33 in her passionate34 effort for control. Never had he come home as bad as this.
“Saxon,” he called thickly. “Saxon.”
She stired and yawned.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Won't you strike a light? My fingers is all thumbs.”
Without looking at him, she complied; but so violent was the nervous trembling of her hands that the glass chimney tinkled35 against the globe and the match went out.
“I ain't drunk, Saxon,” he said in the darkness, a hint of amusement in his thick voice. “I've only had two or three jolts36 ... of that sort.”
On her second attempt with the lamp she succeeded. When she turned to look at him she screamed with fright. Though she had heard his voice and knew him to be Billy, for the instant she did not recognize him. His face was a face she had never known. Swollen37, bruised38, discolored, every feature had been beaten out of all semblance39 of familiarity. One eye was entirely40 closed, the other showed through a narrow slit41 of blood-congested flesh. One ear seemed to have lost most of its skin. The whole face was a swollen pulp42. His right jaw43, in particular, was twice the size of the left. No wonder his speech had been thick, was her thought, as she regarded the fearfully cut and swollen lips that still bled. She was sickened by the sight, and her heart went out to him in a great wave of tenderness. She wanted to put her arms around him, and cuddle and soothe44 him; but her practical judgment45 bade otherwise.
“You poor, poor boy,” she cried. “Tell me what you want me to do first. I don't know about such things.”
“If you could help me get my clothes off,” he suggested meekly46 and thickly. “I got 'em on before I stiffened47 up.”
“And then hot water—that will be good,” she said, as she began gently drawing his coat sleeve over a puffed48 and helpless hand.
“I told you they was all thumbs,” he grimaced49, holding up his hand and squinting50 at it with the fraction of sight remaining to him.
“You sit and wait,” she said, “till I start the fire and get the hot water going. I won't be a minute. Then I'll finish getting your clothes off.”
From the kitchen she could hear him mumbling51 to himself, and when she returned he was repeating over and over:
“We needed the money, Saxon. We needed the money.”
“He was a surprise box,” he wandered on, while she proceeded to undress him; and bit by bit she was able to piece together what had happened. “He was an unknown from Chicago. They sprang him on me. The secretary of the Acme54 Club warned me I'd have my hands full. An' I'd a-won if I'd been in condition. But fifteen pounds off without trainin' ain't condition. Then I'd been drinkin' pretty regular, an' I didn't have my wind.”
But Saxon, stripping his undershirt, no longer heard him. As with his face, she could not recognize his splendidly muscled back. The white sheath of silken skin was torn and bloody55. The lacerations occurred oftenest in horizontal lines, though there were perpendicular56 lines as well.
“How did you get all that?” she asked.
“The ropes. I was up against 'em more times than I like to remember. Gee57! He certainly gave me mine. But I fooled 'm. He couldn't put me out. I lasted the twenty rounds, an' I wanta tell you he's got some marks to remember me by. If he ain't got a couple of knuckles58 broke in the left hand I'm a geezer.—Here, feel my head here. Swollen, eh? Sure thing. He hit that more times than he's wishin' he had right now. But, oh, what a lacin'! What a lacin'! I never had anything like it before. The Chicago Terror, they call 'm. I take my hat off to 'm. He's some bear. But I could a-made 'm take the count if I'd ben in condition an' had my wind.—Oh! Ouch! Watch out! It's like a boil!”
Fumbling59 at his waistband, Saxon's hand had come in contact with a brightly inflamed60 surface larger than a soup plate.
“That's from the kidney blows,” Billy explained. “He was a regular devil at it. 'Most every clench30, like clock work, down he'd chop one on me. It got so sore I was wincin'... until I got groggy61 an' didn't know much of anything. It ain't a knockout blow, you know, but it's awful wearin' in a long fight. It takes the starch62 out of you.”
When his knees were bared, Saxon could see the skin across the knee-caps was broken and gone.
“The skin ain't made to stand a heavy fellow like me on the knees,” he volunteered. “An' the rosin in the canvas cuts like Sam Hill.”
The tears were in Saxon's eyes, and she could have cried over the manhandled body of her beautiful sick boy.
As she carried his pants across the room to hang them up, a jingle63 of money came from them. He called her back, and from the pocket drew forth64 a handful of silver.
“We needed the money, we needed the money,” he kept muttering, as he vainly tried to count the coins; and Saxon knew that his mind was wandering again.
It cut her to the heart, for she could not but remember the harsh thoughts that had threatened her loyalty during the week past. After all, Billy, the splendid physical man, was only a boy, her boy. And he had faced and endured all this terrible punishment for her, for the house and the furniture that were their house and furniture. He said so, now, when he scarcely knew what he said. He said “WE needed the money.” She was not so absent from his thoughts as she had fancied. Here, down to the naked tie-ribs of his soul, when he was half unconscious, the thought of her persisted, was uppermost. We needed the money. WE!
The tears were trickling65 down her checks as she bent66 over him, and it seemed she had never loved him so much as now.
“Here; you count,” he said, abandoning the effort and handing the money to her. “... How much do you make it?”
“Nineteen dollars and thirty-five cents.”
“That's right... the loser's end... twenty dollars. I had some drinks, an' treated a couple of the boys, an' then there was carfare. If I'd a-won, I'd a-got a hundred. That's what I fought for. It'd a-put us on Easy street for a while. You take it an' keep it. It's better 'n nothin'.”
In bed, he could not sleep because of his pain, and hour by hour she worked over him, renewing the hot compresses over his bruises67, soothing68 the lacerations with witch hazel and cold cream and the tenderest of finger tips. And all the while, with broken intervals69 of groaning70, he babbled71 on, living over the fight, seeking relief in telling her his trouble, voicing regret at loss of the money, and crying out the hurt to his pride. Far worse than the sum of his physical hurts was his hurt pride.
“He couldn't put me out, anyway. He had full swing at me in the times when I was too much in to get my hands up. The crowd was crazy. I showed 'em some stamina72. They was times when he only rocked me, for I'd evaporated plenty of his steam for him in the openin' rounds. I don't know how many times he dropped me. Things was gettin' too dreamy....
“Sometimes, toward the end, I could see three of him in the ring at once, an' I wouldn't know which to hit an' which to duck....
“But I fooled 'm. When I couldn't see, or feel, an' when my knees was shakin an my head goin' like a merry-go-round, I'd fall safe into clenches73 just the same. I bet the referee74's arms is tired from draggin' us apart....
“But what a lacin'! What a lacin'! Say, Saxon... where are you? Oh, there, eh? I guess I was dreamin'. But, say, let this be a lesson to you. I broke my word an' went fightin', an' see what I got. Look at me, an' take warnin' so you won't make the same mistake an' go to makin' an' sellin' fancy work again....
“But I fooled 'em—everybody. At the beginnin' the bettin' was even. By the sixth round the wise gazabos was offerin' two to one against me. I was licked from the first drop outa the box—anybody could see that; but he couldn't put me down for the count. By the tenth round they was offerin' even that I wouldn't last the round. At the eleventh they was offerin' I wouldn't last the fifteenth. An' I lasted the whole twenty. But some punishment, I want to tell you, some punishment.
“Why, they was four rounds I was in dreamland all the time... only I kept on my feet an' fought, or took the count to eight an' got up, an' stalled an' covered an' whanged away. I don't know what I done, except I must a-done like that, because I wasn't there. I don't know a thing from the thirteenth, when he sent me to the mat on my head, till the eighteenth.
“Where was I? Oh, yes. I opened my eyes, or one eye, because I had only one that would open. An' there I was, in my corner, with the towels goin' an' ammonia in my nose an' Bill Murphy with a chunk75 of ice at the back of my neck. An' there, across the ring, I could see the Chicago Terror, an' I had to do some thinkin' to remember I was fightin' him. It was like I'd been away somewhere an' just got back. 'What round's this comin'?' I ask Bill. 'The eighteenth,' says he. 'The hell,' I says. 'What's come of all the other rounds? The last I was fightin' in was the thirteenth.' 'You're a wonder,' says Bill. 'You've ben out four rounds, only nobody knows it except me. I've ben tryin' to get you to quit all the time.' Just then the gong sounds, an' I can see the Terror startin' for me. 'Quit,' says Bill, makin' a move to throw in the towel. 'Not on your life,' I says. 'drop it, Bill.' But he went on wantin' me to quit. By that time the Terror had come across to my corner an' was standin' with his hands down, lookin' at me. The referee was lookin', too, an' the house was that quiet, lookin', you could hear a pin drop. An' my head was gettin' some clearer, but not much.
“'You can't win,' Bill says.
“'Watch me,' says I. An' with that I make a rush for the Terror, catchin' him unexpected. I'm that groggy I can't stand, but I just keep a-goin', wallopin' the Terror clear across the ring to his corner, where he slips an' falls, an' I fall on top of 'm. Say, that crowd goes crazy.
“You'd just fallen on top of him in his corner,” Saxon prompted.
“Oh, yes. Well, no sooner are we on our feet—an' I can't stand—I rush 'm the same way back across to my corner an' fall on 'm. That was luck. We got up, an' I'd a-fallen, only I clenched an' held myself up by him. 'I got your goat,' I says to him. 'An' now I'm goin' to eat you up.'
“I hadn't his goat, but I was playin' to get a piece of it, an' I got it, rushin' 'm as soon as the referee drags us apart an' fetchin' 'm a lucky wallop in the stomach that steadied 'm an' made him almighty77 careful. Too almighty careful. He was afraid to chance a mix with me. He thought I had more fight left in me than I had. So you see I got that much of his goat anyway.
“An' he couldn't get me. He didn't get me. An' in the twentieth we stood in the middle of the ring an' exchanged wallops even. Of course, I'd made a fine showin' for a licked man, but he got the decision, which was right. But I fooled 'm. He couldn't get me. An' I fooled the gazabos that was bettin' he would on short order.”
At last, as dawn came on, Billy slept. He groaned78 and moaned, his face twisting with pain, his body vainly moving and tossing in quest of easement.
So this was prizefighting, Saxon thought. It was much worse than she had dreamed. She had had no idea that such damage could be wrought79 with padded gloves. He must never fight again. Street rioting was preferable. She was wondering how much of his silk had been lost, when he mumbled80 and opened his eyes.
“What is it?” she asked, ere it came to her that his eyes were unseeing and that he was in delirium.
“Saxon!... Saxon!” he called.
“Yes, Billy. What is it?”
Again he called her, and she cried her presence loudly in his ear. He sighed with relief and muttered brokenly:
“I had to do it.... We needed the money.”
His eyes closed, and he slept more soundly, though his muttering continued. She had heard of congestion82 of the brain, and was frightened. Then she remembered his telling her of the ice Billy Murphy had held against his head.
Throwing a shawl over her head, she ran to the Pile Drivers' Home on Seventh street. The barkeeper had just opened, and was sweeping83 out. From the refrigerator he gave her all the ice she wished to carry, breaking it into convenient pieces for her. Back in the house, she applied84 the ice to the base of Billy's brain, placed hot irons to his feet, and bathed his head with witch hazel made cold by resting on the ice.
He slept in the darkened room until late afternoon, when, to Saxon's dismay, he insisted on getting up.
“Gotta make a showin',” he explained. “They ain't goin' to have the laugh on me.”
In torment85 he was helped by her to dress, and in torment he went forth from the house so that his world should have ocular evidence that the beating he had received did not keep him in bed.
It was another kind of pride, different from a woman's, and Saxon wondered if it were the less admirable for that.
该作者的其它作品
野性的呼唤 The Call of the WildThe Iron Heel 铁蹄
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bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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irrational
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| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
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flux
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| n.流动；不断的改变 | |
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prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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protagonist
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| n.(思想观念的)倡导者；主角，主人公 | |
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rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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sabotage
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| n.怠工，破坏活动，破坏；v.从事破坏活动，妨害，破坏 | |
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abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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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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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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buckled
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hearty
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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clench
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| vt.捏紧（拳头等），咬紧（牙齿等），紧紧握住 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dented
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| v.使产生凹痕( dent的过去式和过去分词 )；损害；伤害；挫伤（信心、名誉等） | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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jolts
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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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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slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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pulp
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| n.果肉，纸浆；v.化成纸浆，除去...果肉，制成纸浆 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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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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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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acme
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| n.顶点，极点 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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56
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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58
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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59
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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60
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
groggy
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| adj.体弱的；不稳的 | |
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62
starch
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| n.淀粉；vt.给...上浆 | |
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63
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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65
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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66
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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67
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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68
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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69
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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70
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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71
babbled
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| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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72
stamina
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| n.体力；精力；耐力 | |
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73
clenches
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的第三人称单数 ) | |
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74
referee
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| n.裁判员．仲裁人，代表人，鉴定人 | |
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75
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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76
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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78
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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79
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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80
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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82
congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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83
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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84
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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85
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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