The portraits for the most part had every quality save that of sincerity3. They were transcendantly adroit4 and they reeked5 of talent. They were luxurious6, refined, sensual, titillating7, exquisite8, tender, compact, of striking poses and subtle new tones. And while the heads were well finished and instantly recognisable as likenesses, the impressionism of the hands and of the provocative9 draperies showed that the artists had fully10 realised the necessity of being modern. The mischief11 and the damnation were that the sitters liked them because they produced in the sitters the illusion that the sitters were really what the sitters wanted to be, and what indeed nearly every woman in the galleries wanted to be; and the ideal of the sitters was a low ideal. The portraits flattered; but only a few guessed that they flattered ignobly12; scarcely any even of the artists guessed that.
The portraits were a success; the exhibition was a success; and all the people at the private view justly felt that they were part of and contributing to the success. And though seemingly the aim of everybody was to prove to everybody else that no war, not the greatest war, could disturb the appearances of social life in London, yet many were properly serious and proud in their seriousness. It was the autumn of 1915. British troops were triumphantly13 on the road to Kut, and British forces were approaching decisive victory in Gallipoli. The Russians had turned on their pursuers. The French had initiated14 in Champagne15 an offensive so dramatic that it was regarded as the beginning of the end. And the British on their left, in the taking of Loos and Hill 70, had achieved what might have been regarded as the greatest success on the Western Front, had it not been for the rumour16, current among the informed personages at the Reynolds Galleries, that recent bulletins had been reticent17 to the point of deception18 and that, in fact, Hill 70 had ceased to be ours a week earlier. Further, Zeppelins had raided London and killed and wounded numerous Londoners, and all present in the Reynolds Galleries were aware, from positive statements in the newspapers, that whereas German morale19 was crumbling20, all Londoners, including themselves, had behaved with the most marvellous stoic22 calm in the ordeal23 of the Zeppelins.
The assembly had a further and particular reason for serious pride. It was getting on with the war, and in a most novel way. Private views are customarily views gratis24. But the entry to this private view cost a guinea, and there was absolutely no free list. The guineas were going to the support of the Lechford Hospitals in France. The happy idea was G.J.'s own, and Lady Queenie Paulle and her mother had taken the right influential25 measures to ensure its grandiose26 execution. A queen had visited the private view for half an hour. Thus all the very well-dressed and very expensively-dressed women, and all the men who admired and desired them as they moved, in voluptuous27 perfection, amid dazzling pictures with the soft illumination of screened skylights above and the reflections in polished parquet28 below—all of both sexes were comfortably conscious of virtue29 in the undoubted fact that they were helping30 to support two renowned31 hospitals where at that very moment dissevered legs and arms were being thrown into buckets.
In a little room at the end of the galleries was a small but choice collection of the etchings of Félicien Rops: a collection for connoisseurs32, as the critics were to point out in the newspapers the next morning. For Rops, though he had an undeniable partiality for subjects in which ugly and prurient33 women displayed themselves in nothing but the inessentials of costume, was a [151] classic before whom it was necessary to bow the head in homage34.
G.J. was in this room in company with a young and handsome Staff officer, Lieutenant35 Molder, home on convalescent leave from Suvla Bay. Mr. Molder had left Oxford36 in order to join the army; he had behaved admirably, and well earned the red shoulder-ornaments which pure accident had given him. He was a youth of artistic37 and literary tastes, with genuine ambitions quite other than military, and after a year of horrible existence in which he had hungered for the arts more than for anything, he was solacing38 and renewing himself in the contemplation of all the masterpieces that London could show. He greatly esteemed40 G.J.'s connoisseurship41, and G.J. had taken him in hand. At the close of a conscientious42 and highly critical round of the galleries they had at length reached the Rops room, and they were discussing every aspect of Rops except his lubricity, when Lady Queenie Paulle approached them from behind. Molder was the first to notice her and turn. He blushed.
"Well, Queen," said G.J., who had already had several conversations with her in the galleries that day and on the previous days of preparation.
She replied:
"Well, I hope you're satisfied with the results of your beautiful idea."
The young woman, slim and pale, had long since gone out of mourning. She was most brilliantly attired43, and no detail lacked to the perfection of her modish44 outfit45. Indeed, just as she was, she would have made a marvellous mannequin, except for the fact that mannequins are not usually allowed to perfume themselves in business hours. Her thin, rather high voice, which somehow matched her complexion46 and carriage, had its customary tone of amiable47 insolence48, and her tired, drooping49 eyes their equivocal glance, as she faced the bearded and grave middle-aged50 bachelor and the handsome, muscular boy; even the boy was older than Queen, yet she seemed to condescend51 to them as if she were an immortal52 from everlasting53 to everlasting and could teach both of them all sorts of useful things about life. Nobody could have guessed from that serene54 demeanour that her self-satisfaction was marred55 by any untoward56 detail whatever. Yet it was. All her frocks were designed to conceal57 a serious defect which seriously disturbed her: she was low-breasted.
G.J. said bluntly:
"May I present Mr. Molder?—Lady Queenie Paulle."
And he said to himself, secretly annoyed:
"Dash the infernal chit. That's what she's come for. Now she's got it."
She gave the slightest, dubious58 nod to Molder, who, having faced fighting Turks with an equanimity59 equal to Queenie's own, was yet considerably60 flurried by the presence and the gaze of this legendary61 girl. Queenie, enjoying his agitation62, but affecting to ignore him, began to talk quickly in the vein63 of exclusive gossip; she mentioned in a few seconds the topics of the imminent64 entry of Bulgaria into the war, the maturing Salonika expedition, the confidential65 terrible utterances66 of [153] K. on recruiting, and, of course, the misfortune (due to causes which Queenie had at her finger-ends) round about Loos. Then in regard to the last she suddenly added, quite unjustifiably implying that the two phenomena67 were connected: "You know, mother's hospitals are frightfully full just now.... But, of course, you do know. That's why I'm so specially68 glad to-day's such a success."
Thus in a moment, and with no more than ten phrases, she had conveyed the suggestion that while mere69 soldiers, ageing men-about-town, and the ingenuous70 mass of the public might and did foolishly imagine the war to be a simple affair, she herself, by reason of her intelligence and her private sources of knowledge, had a full, unique apprehension71 of its extremely complex and various formidableness. G.J. resented the familiar attitude, and he resented Queenie's very appearance and the appearance of the entire opulent scene. In his head at that precise instant were not only the statistics of mortality and major operations at the Lechford Hospitals, but also the astounding72 desolating73 tales of the handsome boy about folly74, ignorance, stupidity and martyrdoms at Suvla.
"Yes, I'm glad it's a success. But the machinery76 of it is perhaps just slightly out of proportion to the results. If people had given to the hospitals what they have spent on clothes to come here and what they've paid painters so that they could see themselves on the walls, we should have made twenty times as much as we have made—a hundred times as much. Why, good god! Queen, the whole afternoon's takings wouldn't buy what you're wearing now, to say nothing of the five hundred other women here." His eye rested on the badge of her half-brother's regiment77 which she had had reproduced in diamonds.
At this juncture78 he heard himself addressed in a hearty79, heavy voice as "G.J., old soul." An officer with the solitary80 crown on his sleeve, bald, stoutish81, but probably not more than forty-five, touched him—much gentler than he spoke—on the shoulder.
"Craive, my son! You back! Well, it's startling to see you at a picture-show, anyhow."
"Morally, you owe me a guinea, my dear G.J. I called at the flat, and the young woman there told me you'd surely be here."
While they were talking G.J. could hear Queenie Paulle and Molder:
"Where are you back from?"
"Suvla, Lady Queenie."
"You must be oozing83 with interest and actuality. Tell G.J. to bring you to tea one day, quite, quite soon, will you? I'll tell him." And Molder murmured something fatuously84 conventional. G.J. showed decorously that he had caught his own name. Whereupon Lady Queenie, instead of naming a day for tea, addressed him almost bitterly:
"G.J., what's come over you? What in the name of Pan do you suppose all you males are fighting each other for?" She paused effectively. "Good god! If I began to dress like a housemaid the Germans would be in London in a month. Our job as women is quite delicate enough without you making it worse by any damned sentimental86 superficiality.... I want you to bring Mr. Molder to tea to-morrow, and if you can't come he must come alone...."
"She been driving any fresh men to suicide lately?" Major Craive demanded acidly under his breath.
Then: "That's not you, Frankie!" said the Major with a start of recognition towards the Staff lieutenant.
"Yes, sir," said Molder.
They shook hands. At the previous Christmas they had lain out together on the cliffs of the east coast in wild weather, waiting to repel89 a phantom90 army of thirty thousand Germans.
"It was the red hat put me off," the Major explained.
"Not my fault, sir," Molder smiled.
"Devilish glad to see you, my boy."
G.J. murmured to Molder:
"You don't want to go and have tea with her, do you?"
And Molder answered, with the somewhat fatuous85, self-conscious grin that no amount of intelligence can keep out of the face of a good-looking fellow who knows that he has made an impression:
"Well, I don't know—"
The Major shut his lips tight, then stood with his mouth open for a second or two in the attitude of a man suddenly receiving the onset92 of a great and original idea.
"She's right, hang it all!" he exclaimed. "She's right! Of course she is! Why, what's all this"—he waved an arm at the whole scene—"what's all this but sex? Look at 'em! And look at their portraits! You aren't going to tell me! What's the good of pretending? Hang it all, when my own aunt comes down to breakfast in a low-cut blouse that would have given her fits even in the evening ten years ago!... And jolly fine too. I'm all for it. The more of it the merrier—that's what I say. And don't any of you high-brows go trying to alter it. If you do I retire, and you can defend your own bally Front."
"Craive," said G.J. affectionately, "until you and Queen came along Molder and I really thought we were at a picture exhibition, and we still think so, don't we, Molder?" The Lieutenant nodded. "Now, as you're here, just let me show you one or two things."
"Oh!" breathed the Major, "have pity. It's not any canvas woman that I want—By Jove!" He caught sight of an invention of Félicien Rops, a pig on the end of a string, leading, or being driven by, a woman who wore nothing but stockings, boots and a hat. "What do you call that?"
"My dear fellow, that's one of the most famous etchings in the world."
"Is it?" the Major said. "Well, I'm not surprised. There's more in this business than I imagined." He set himself to examine all the exhibits by Rops, and when he had finished he turned to G.J.
"Sorry, dear heart," said G.J. "I'm engaged with Molder to-night. We shall have some private chamber-music at my rooms—just for ourselves. You ought to come. Much better for your health."
"About eleven."
"Now I say again—listen here. Let's talk business. I'll come to your chamber-music. I've been before, and survived, and I'll come again. But afterwards you'll come with me to the Guinea-Fowl."
"But, my dear chap, I can't throw Molder out into Vigo Street at eleven o'clock," G.J. protested, startled by the blunt mention of the notorious night-club in the young man's presence.
"Naturally you can't. He'll come along with us. Frankie and I have nearly fallen into the North Sea or German Ocean together, haven't we, Frankie? It'll be my show. And I'll turn up with the stuff—one, two or three pretty ladies according as your worship wishes."
G.J. was now more than startled; he was shocked; he felt his cheeks reddening. It was the presence of Molder that confused him. Never had he talked to Molder on any subjects but the arts, and if they had once or twice lighted on the topic of women it was only in connection with the arts. He was really interested in and admired Molder's unusual aesthetic94 intelligence, and he had done what he could to foster it, and he immensely appreciated Molder's youthful esteem39 for himself. Moreover, he was easily old enough to be Molder's father. It seemed to him that though two generations might properly mingle95 in anything else, they ought not to mingle in licence. Craive's crudity96 was extraordinary.
"See here!" Craive went on, serious and determined97. "You know the sort of thing I've come from. I got four days unexpected. I had to run down to my uncle's. The old things would have died if I hadn't. To-morrow I go back. This is my last night. I haven't had a scratch up to now. But my turn's coming, you bet. Next week I may be in heaven or hell or anywhere, or blind for life or without my legs or any damn thing you please. But I'm going to have to-night, and you're going to join in."
G.J. saw the look of simple, half-worshipful appeal that sometimes came into Craive's rather ingenuous face. He well knew that look, and it always touched him. He remembered certain descriptive letters which he had received from Craive at the Front,—they corresponded faithfully. He could not have explained the intimacy98 of his relations with Craive. They had begun at a club, over cards. The two had little in common—Craive was a stockbroker99 when world-wars did not happen to be in progress—but G.J. greatly liked him because, with all his crudity, he was such a decent, natural fellow, so kind-hearted, so fresh and unassuming. And Craive on his part had developed an admiration100 for G.J. which G.J. was quite at a loss to account for. The one clue to the origin of the mysterious attachment101 between them had been a naive102 phrase which he had once overheard Craive utter to a mutual103 acquaintance: "Old G.J.'s so subtle, isn't he?"
G.J. said to himself, reconsidering the proposal:
"And why on earth not?"
And then aloud, soothingly104, to Craive:
"All right! All right!"
The Major brightened and said to Molder:
"You'll come, of course?"
"Oh, rather!" answered Molder, quite simply.
And G.J., again to himself, said:
"I am a simpleton."
The Major's pleading, and the spectacle of the two officers with their precarious105 hold on life, humiliated106 G.J. as well as touched him. And, if only in order to avoid the momentary107 humiliation108, he would have been well content to be able to roll back his existence and to have had a military training and to be with them in the sacred and proud uniform.
"Now listen here!" said the Major. "About the aforesaid pretty ladies—"
There they stood together in the corner, hiding several of Rops's eccentricities109, ostensibly discussing art, charity, world-politics, the strategy of war, the casualty lists.
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1
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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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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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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adroit
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| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
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reeked
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的过去式和过去分词 )；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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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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7
titillating
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| adj.使人痒痒的； 使人激动的，令人兴奋的v.使觉得痒( titillate的现在分词 )；逗引；激发；使高兴 | |
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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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provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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ignobly
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| 卑贱地，下流地 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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15
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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morale
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| n.道德准则，士气，斗志 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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stoic
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| n.坚忍克己之人，禁欲主义者 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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gratis
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| adj.免费的 | |
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influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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grandiose
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| adj.宏伟的，宏大的，堂皇的，铺张的 | |
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voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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parquet
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| n.镶木地板 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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connoisseurs
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| n.鉴赏家，鉴定家，行家( connoisseur的名词复数 ) | |
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prurient
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| adj.好色的，淫乱的 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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solacing
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| v.安慰，慰藉( solace的现在分词 ) | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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connoisseurship
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| n.鉴赏家（或鉴定家、行家）身份，鉴赏（或鉴定）力 | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
modish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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48
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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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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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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51
condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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53
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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54
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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55
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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56
untoward
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| adj.不利的，不幸的，困难重重的 | |
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57
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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58
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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66
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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67
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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68
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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69
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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71
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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72
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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73
desolating
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| 毁坏( desolate的现在分词 )； 极大地破坏； 使沮丧； 使痛苦 | |
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74
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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75
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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76
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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78
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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79
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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80
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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81
stoutish
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| 略胖的 | |
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82
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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83
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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84
fatuously
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| adv.愚昧地，昏庸地，蠢地 | |
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85
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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86
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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87
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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88
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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89
repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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90
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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91
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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onset
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| n.进攻，袭击，开始，突然开始 | |
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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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aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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95
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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96
crudity
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| n.粗糙，生硬；adj.粗略的 | |
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97
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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98
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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99
stockbroker
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| n.股票（或证券），经纪人（或机构） | |
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100
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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101
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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102
naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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103
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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104
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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105
precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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106
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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107
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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108
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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109
eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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