The taxi, although it was a horse-taxi and incapable12 of moving at more than five miles an hour, reached the Rue13 Cassette, which was on the other side of the river and quite a long way off, in no time. That is to say, Audrey was not aware that any time had passed. She had received the address from Tommy, for it was a new address, Musa having admittedly risen in the world. The house was an old one; it had a curious staircase, with china knobs on the principal banisters of the rail, and crimson-tasselled bell cords at all the doors of the flats. Musa lived at the summit of it. Audrey arrived there short of breath, took the crimson-tasselled cord in her hand to pull, and then hesitated in order to think.
Why had she come? The response was clear. She had come solely14 because she hated to see a job botched, and there was not a moment to lose if it was not to be botched. She had come, not because she had the slightest sympathetic interest in Musa—on the contrary, she was coldly angry with him—but because she had a horror of fiascos. She had found a genius who needed financing, and she, possessing some tons of money, had financed him, and she did not mean to see an ounce of her money wasted if she could help it. Her interest in the affair was artistic15 and impersonal16, and none other. It was the duty of wealthy magnates to foster art, and she was fostering art, and she would have the thing done neatly17 and completely, or she would know the reason. Fancy a rational creature making a scene at a final rehearsal and swearing that he would not play, and then bolting! It was monstrous18! People really did not do such things. Assuredly no artist had ever done such a thing before. Artists who had a concert all to themselves invariably appeared according to advertised promise. An artist who was only one among several in a programme might fall ill and fail to appear, for such artists are liable to the accidents of earthly existence. But an artist who shared the programme with nobody else was above the accidents of earthly existence and magically protected against colds, coughs, influenza19, orange peel, automobiles20, and all the other enemies of mankind. But, of course, Musa was peculiar21, erratic22 and unpredictable beyond even the wide range granted by society to genius. And yet of late he had been behaving himself in a marvellous manner. He had never bothered her. On the voyage back to France he had not bothered her. They had separated with punctilious23 cordiality. Neither of them had written to the other, but she knew that he was working diligently24 and satisfactorily. He was apparently25 cured of her. It was perhaps due to the seeming completeness of his cure that her relations with Mr. Gilman had been what they were. ... And now, suddenly, this!
So with clear conscience she pulled the bell cord.
Musa himself opened the door. He was coatless and in a dressing-gown, under which showed glimpses of a new smartness. As soon as he saw her he went very pale.
“Bon jour,” she said.
He repeated the phrase stiffly.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
He silently signified, with a certain annoying resignation, that she might. For one instant she was under a tremendous impulse to walk grandly and haughtily26 down the stairs. But she conquered the impulse. He was so pale.
“This way, excuse me,” he said, and preceded her along a short, narrow passage which ended in an open door leading into a small room. There was no carpet on the floor of the passage, and only a quite inadequate27 rug on the floor of the room. The furniture was scanty28 and poor. There was a table, a music stand, a cheap imitation of a Louis Quatorze chair, two other chairs, and some piles of music. No curtains to the window! Not a picture on the walls! On the table a dusty disorder29 of small objects, including ash-trays, and towards the back of it a little account book, open, with a pencil on it and a low pile of coppers30 and a silver ten-sou piece on the top of the coppers. Nevertheless this interior represented a novel luxuriousness31 for Musa; for previously32, as Audrey knew, he had lived in one room, and there was no bed here. The flat, indeed, actually comprised three rooms. The account book and the pitiful heap of coins touched her. She had expended33 much on the enterprise of launching him to glory, and those coins seemed to be all that had filtered through to him. The whole dwelling34 was pathetic, and she thought of the splendours of her own daily life, of the absolute unimportance to her of such sums as would keep Musa in content for a year or for ten years, and of the grandiose35, majestic36, dazzling career of herself and Mr. Gilman when their respective fortunes should be joined together. And she mysteriously saw Mr. Gilman’s face again, and that too was pathetic. Everything was pathetic. She alone seemed to be hard, dominating, overbearing. Her conscience waked to fresh activity. Was she losing her soul? Where were her ideals? Could she really work in full honesty for the feminist37 cause as the wife of a man like Mr. Gilman? He was adorable: she felt in that moment that she had a genuine affection for him; but could Mrs. Gilman challenge the police, retort audaciously upon magistrates38, and lie in prison? In a word, could she be a martyr39? Would Mr. Gilman, with all his amenability40, consent? Would she herself consent? Would it not be ridiculous? Thus her flying, shamed thoughts in front of the waiting Musa!
“Then you aren’t ill?” she began.
“Ill!” he exclaimed. “Why do you wish that I should be ill?”
As he answered her he removed his open fiddle41 case, with the violin inside it, from the Louis Quatorze chair, and signed to her to sit down. She sat down.
“I heard that—this morning—at the rehearsal——”
“Ah! You have heard that?”
“And I thought perhaps you were ill. So I came to see.”
“What have you heard?”
“Frankly, Musa, it is said that you said you would not play to-night.”
“Does it concern you?”
“It concerns everyone.... And you have been so good lately.”
“Ah! I have been good lately. You have heard that. And did you expect me to continue to be good when you returned to Paris and passed all your days in public with that antique and grotesque42 Monsieur Gilman? All the world sees you. I myself have seen you. It is horrible.”
She controlled herself. And the fact that she was intensely flattered helped her to do so.
“Now Musa,” she said, firmly and kindly43, as on previous occasions she had spoken to him. “Do be reasonable. I refuse to be angry, and it is impossible for you to insult me, however much you try. But do be reasonable. Do think of the future. We are all wishing for your success. We shall all be there. And now you say you aren’t going to play. It is really too much.”
“You have perhaps bought tickets,” said Musa, and a flush gradually spread over his cheeks. “You have perhaps bought tickets, and you are afraid lest you have been robbed. Tranquillise yourself, Madame. If you have the least fear, I will instruct my agent to reimburse44 you. And why should I not play? Naturally I shall play. Accept my word, if you can.” He spoke10 with an icy and convincing decision.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” Audrey murmured.
“What right have you to be glad, Madame? If you are glad it is your own affair. Have I troubled you since we last met? I need the sympathy of nobody. I am assured of a large audience. My impresario45 is excessively optimistic. And if this is so, I owe it to none but myself. You speak of insults. Permit me to say that I regard your patronage46 as an insult. I have done nothing, I imagine, to deserve it. I crack my head to divine what I have done to deserve it. You hear some silly talk about a rehearsal and you precipitate47 yourself chez moi—”
Without a word Audrey rose and departed. He followed her to the door and held it open.
“Bon jour, Madame.”
She descended48 the stairs. Perhaps it was his sudden illogical change of tone; perhaps it was the memory of his phrase, “assured of a large audience,” coupled with a picture of the sinister49 Mr. Cowl unsuccessfully trying to give away tickets—but whatever was the origin of the sob50, she did give a sob. As she walked downcast through the courtyard she heard clearly the sounds of Musa’s violin, played with savage51 vigour52.
点击收听单词发音
1 stammering | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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2 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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3 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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4 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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5 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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6 outraged | |
a.震惊的,义愤填膺的 | |
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7 grievance | |
n.怨愤,气恼,委屈 | |
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8 rehearsal | |
n.排练,排演;练习 | |
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9 expenditure | |
n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出;使用,消耗 | |
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10 spoke | |
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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11 passionately | |
ad.热烈地,激烈地 | |
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12 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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13 rue | |
n.懊悔,芸香,后悔;v.后悔,悲伤,懊悔 | |
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14 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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15 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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16 impersonal | |
adj.无个人感情的,与个人无关的,非人称的 | |
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17 neatly | |
adv.整洁地,干净地,灵巧地,熟练地 | |
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18 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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19 influenza | |
n.流行性感冒,流感 | |
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20 automobiles | |
n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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21 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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22 erratic | |
adj.古怪的,反复无常的,不稳定的 | |
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23 punctilious | |
adj.谨慎的,谨小慎微的 | |
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24 diligently | |
ad.industriously;carefully | |
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25 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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26 haughtily | |
adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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27 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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28 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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29 disorder | |
n.紊乱,混乱;骚动,骚乱;疾病,失调 | |
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30 coppers | |
铜( copper的名词复数 ); 铜币 | |
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31 luxuriousness | |
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32 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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33 expended | |
v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 );使用(钱等)做某事;用光;耗尽 | |
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34 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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35 grandiose | |
adj.宏伟的,宏大的,堂皇的,铺张的 | |
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36 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
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37 feminist | |
adj.主张男女平等的,女权主义的 | |
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38 magistrates | |
地方法官,治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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39 martyr | |
n.烈士,殉难者;vt.杀害,折磨,牺牲 | |
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40 amenability | |
n.服从的义务 | |
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41 fiddle | |
n.小提琴;vi.拉提琴;不停拨弄,乱动 | |
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42 grotesque | |
adj.怪诞的,丑陋的;n.怪诞的图案,怪人(物) | |
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43 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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44 reimburse | |
v.补偿,付还 | |
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45 impresario | |
n.歌剧团的经理人;乐团指挥 | |
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46 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
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47 precipitate | |
adj.突如其来的;vt.使突然发生;n.沉淀物 | |
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48 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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49 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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50 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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51 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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52 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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