He had chosen “View of the Cathedral of Notre-Dame Paris, from the Pont des Arts.” It pleased him by the coloration of the old houses in front of Notre-Dame, and the reflections in the water of the Seine, and the elusive15 blueness of the twin towers amid the pale grey clouds of a Parisian sky. A romantic scene! He wanted to copy it exactly, to recreate it from beginning to end, to feel the thrill of producing each wonderful effect himself. Yet he sat inactive. He sat and vaguely16 gazed at the slope of Trafalgar Road with its double row of yellow jewels, beautifully ascending17 in fire to the ridge11 of the horizon and there losing itself in the deep and solemn purple of the summer night; and he thought how ugly and commonplace all that was, and how different from all that were the noble capitals of Europe. Scarcely a sound came through the open window; song doubtless still gushed18 forth19 at the Dragon, and revellers would not for hours awake the street on their way to the exacerbating20 atmosphere of home.
Two.
He had no resolution to take up the pencil. Yet after the Male Glee Party had sung “Loud Ocean’s Roar,” he remembered that he had had a most clear and distinct impulse to begin drawing architecture at once, and to do something grand and fine, as grand and fine as the singing, something that would thrill people as the singing thrilled. If he had not rushed home instantly it was solely21 because he had been held back by the stronger desire to hear more music and by the hope of further novel and exciting sensations. But Florence the clog-dancer had easily diverted the seeming-powerful current of his mind. He wanted as much as ever to do wondrous22 things, and to do them soon, but it appeared to him that he must think out first the enigmatic subject of Florence. Never had he seen any female creature as he saw her, and ephemeral images of her were continually forming and dissolving before him. He could come to no conclusion at all about the subject of Florence. Only his boyish pride was gradually being beaten back by an oncoming idea that up to that very evening he had been a sort of rather silly kid with no eyes in his head.
It was in order to ignore for a time this unsettling and humiliating idea that, finally, he began to copy the outlines of the Parisian scene on his cartridge-paper. He was in no way a skilled draughtsman, but he had dabbled23 in pencils and colours, and he had lately picked up from a handbook the hint that in blocking out a drawing the first thing to do was to observe what points were vertically24 under what points, and what points horizontal with what points. He seemed to see the whole secret of draughtsmanship in this priceless counsel, which, indeed, with an elementary knowledge of geometry acquired at school, and the familiarity of his fingers with a pencil, constituted the whole of his technical equipment. All the rest was mere25 desire. Happily the architectural nature of the subject made it more amenable26 than, say, a rural landscape to the use of a T-square and common sense. And Edwin considered that he was doing rather well until, quitting measurements and rulings, he arrived at the stage of drawing the detail of the towers. Then at once the dream of perfect accomplishment27 began to fade at the edges, and the crust of faith to yield ominously28. Each stroke was a falling-away from the ideal, a blow to hope.
And suddenly a yawn surprised him, and recalled him to the existence of his body. He thought: “I can’t really be tired. It would be absurd to go to bed.” For his theory had long been that the notions of parents about bedtime were indeed absurd, and that he would be just as thoroughly29 reposed30 after three hours sleep as after ten. And now that he was a man he meant to practise his theory so far as circumstances allowed. He looked at his watch. It was turned half-past eleven. A delicious wave of joy and of satisfaction animated31 him. He had never been up so late, within his recollection, save on a few occasions when even infants were allowed to be up late. He was alone, secreted32, master of his time and his activity, his mind charged with novel impressions, and a congenial work in progress. Alone? ... It was as if he was spiritually alone in the vast solitude33 of the night. It was as if he could behold34 the unconscious forms of all humanity, sleeping. This feeling that only he had preserved consciousness and energy, that he was the sole active possessor of the mysterious night, affected35 him in the most exquisite36 manner. He had not been so nobly happy in his life. And at the same time he was proud, in a childlike way, of being up so late.
Three.
He heard the door being pushed open, and he gave a jump and turned his head. His father stood in the entrance to the attic.
“Hello, father!” he said weakly, ingratiatingly.
“What art doing at this time o’ night, lad?” Darius Clayhanger demanded.
Strange to say, the autocrat37 was not angered by the remarkable38 sight in front of him. Edwin knew that his father would probably come home from Manchester on the mail train, which would stop to set down a passenger at Shawport by suitable arrangement. And he had expected that his father would go to bed, as usual on such evenings, after having eaten the supper left for him in the sitting-room39. His father’s bedroom was next door to the sitting-room. Save for Mrs Nixon in a distant nook, Edwin had the attic floor to himself. He ought to have been as safe from intrusion there as in the farthest capital of Europe. His father did not climb the attic stairs once in six months. So that he had regarded himself as secure. Still, he must have positively40 forgotten the very existence of his father; he must have been ‘lost,’ otherwise he could not but have heard the footsteps on the stairs.
“I was just drawing,” said Edwin, with a little more confidence.
He looked at his father and saw an old man, a man who for him had always been old, generally harsh, often truculent41, and seldom indulgent. He saw an ugly, undistinguished, and somewhat vulgar man (far less dignified42, for instance, than Big James); a man who had his way by force and scarcely ever by argument; a man whose arguments for or against a given course were simply pitiable, if not despicable. He sometimes indeed thought that there must be a peculiar43 twist in his father’s brain which prevented him from appreciating an adverse44 point in a debate; he had ceased to expect that his father would listen to reason. Latterly he was always surprised when, as to-night, he caught a glance of mild benevolence45 on that face; yet he would never fail to respond to such a mood eagerly, without resentment46. It might be said that he regarded his father as he regarded the weather, fatalistically. No more than against the weather would he have dreamed of bearing malice47 against his father, even had such a plan not been unwise and dangerous. He was convinced that his father’s interest in him was about the same as the sun’s interest in him. His father was nearly always wrapped in business affairs, and seemed to come to the trifling48 affairs of Edwin with difficulty, as out of an absorbing engrossment.
Assuredly he would have been amazed to know that his father had been thinking of him all the afternoon and evening. But it was so. Darius Clayhanger had been nervous as to the manner in which the boy would acquit49 himself in the bit of business which had been confided50 to him. It was the boy’s first bit of business. Straightforward51 as it was, the boy might muddle52 it, might omit a portion of it, might say the wrong thing, might forget. Darius hoped for the best, but he was afraid. He saw in his son an amiable53 irresponsible fool. He compared Edwin at sixteen with himself at the same age. Edwin had never had a care, never suffered a privation, never been forced to think for himself. (Darius might more justly have put it—never been allowed to think for himself.) Edwin had lived in cotton-wool, and knew less of the world than his father had known at half his years; much less. Darius was sure that Edwin had never even come near suspecting the miracles which his father had accomplished54: this was true, and not merely was Edwin stupendously ignorant, and even pettily scornful, of realities, but he was ignorant of his own ignorance. Education! ... Darius snorted. To Darius it seemed that Edwin’s education was like lying down in an orchard55 in lovely summer and having ripe fruit dropped into your mouth... A cocky infant! A girl! And yet there was something about Edwin that his father admired, even respected and envied ... an occasional gesture, an attitude in walking, an intonation56, a smile. Edwin, his own son, had a personal distinction that he himself could never compass. Edwin talked more correctly than his father. He thought differently from his father. He had an original grace. In the essence of his being he was superior to both his father and his sisters. Sometimes when his father saw him walking along the street, or coming into a room, or uttering some simple phrase, or shrugging his shoulders, Darius was aware of a faint thrill. Pride? Perhaps; but he would never have admitted it. An agreeable perplexity rather—a state of being puzzled how he, so common, had begotten57 a creature so subtly aristocratic ... aristocratic was the word. And Edwin seemed so young, fragile, innocent, and defenceless!
Four.
Darius advanced into the attic.
“What about that matter of Enoch Peake’s?” he asked, hoping and fearing, really anxious for his son. He defended himself against probable disappointment by preparing to lapse58 into savage59 paternal60 pessimism61 and disgust at the futility62 of an offspring nursed in luxury.
“Oh! It’s all right,” said Edwin eagerly. “Mr Peake sent word he couldn’t come, and he wanted you to go across to the Dragon this evening. So I went instead.” It sounded dashingly capable.
He finished the recital63, and added that of course Big James had not been able to proceed with the job.
“And where’s the proof?” demanded Darius. His relief expressed itself in a superficial surliness; but Edwin was not deceived. As his father gazed mechanically at the proof that Edwin produced hurriedly from his pocket, he added with a negligent64 air—
“There was a free-and-easy on at the Dragon, father.”
“Was there?” muttered Darius.
Edwin saw that whatever danger had existed was now over.
“And I suppose,” said Darius, with assumed grimness, “if I hadn’t happened to ha’ seen a light from th’ bottom o’ th’ attic stairs I should never have known aught about all this here?” He indicated the cleansed65 attic, the table, the lamp, and the apparatus66 of art.
Darius came nearer. They were close together, Edwin twisted on the cane-chair, and his father almost over him. The lamp smelt68, and gave off a stuffy69 warmth; the open window, through which came a wandering air, was a black oblong; the triangular70 side walls of the dormer shut them intimately in; the house slept.
“What art up to?”
The tone was benignant. Edwin had not been ordered abruptly71 off to bed, with a reprimand for late hours and silly proceedings72 generally. He sought the reason in vain. One reason was that Darius Clayhanger had made a grand bargain at Manchester in the purchase of a second-hand73 printing machine.
“I’m copying this,” he replied slowly, and then all the details tumbled rashly out of his mouth, one after the other. “Oh, father! I found this book in the shop, packed away on a top shelf, and I want to borrow it. I only want to borrow it. And I’ve bought this paint-box, out of auntie’s half-sovereign. I paid Miss Ingamells the full price... I thought I’d have a go at some of these architecture things.”
Darius glared at the copy.
“Humph!”
“It’s only just started, you know.”
“Them prize books—have ye done all that?”
“Yes, father.”
“And put all the prices down, as I told ye?”
“Yes, father.”
Then a pause. Edwin’s heart was beating hard.
“I want to do some of these architecture things,” he repeated. No remark from his father. Then he said, fastening his gaze intensely on the table: “You know, father, what I should really like to be—I should like to be an architect.”
It was out. He had said it.
“Should ye?” said his father, who attached no importance of any kind to this avowal74 of a preference. “Well, what you want is a bit o’ business training for a start, I’m thinking.”
“Oh, of course!” Edwin concurred75, with pathetic eagerness, and added a piece of information for his father: “I’m only sixteen, aren’t I?”
“Sixteen ought to ha’ been in bed this two hours and more. Off with ye!”
Edwin retired76 in an extraordinary state of relief and happiness.
该作者的其它作品
《老妇人的故事 The Old Wives' Tale》
《Hilda Lessways》
该作者的其它作品
《老妇人的故事 The Old Wives' Tale》
《Hilda Lessways》
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
attic
|
|
| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
rendezvous
|
|
| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
giggling
|
|
| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
annex
|
|
| vt.兼并，吞并；n.附属建筑物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
lumber
|
|
| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
loft
|
|
| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
enchantment
|
|
| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
fortified
|
|
| adj. 加强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
gulps
|
|
| n.一大口（尤指液体）( gulp的名词复数 )v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的第三人称单数 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
chapel
|
|
| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
elusive
|
|
| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
ascending
|
|
| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
gushed
|
|
| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
exacerbating
|
|
| v.使恶化，使加重( exacerbate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
wondrous
|
|
| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
dabbled
|
|
| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
vertically
|
|
| adv.垂直地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
amenable
|
|
| adj.经得起检验的；顺从的；对负有义务的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
accomplishment
|
|
| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
ominously
|
|
| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
reposed
|
|
| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
secreted
|
|
| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的过去式和过去分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
behold
|
|
| v.看，注视，看到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
autocrat
|
|
| n.独裁者；专横的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
truculent
|
|
| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
adverse
|
|
| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
benevolence
|
|
| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
malice
|
|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
acquit
|
|
| vt.宣判无罪；(oneself)使(自己)表现出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
confided
|
|
| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
straightforward
|
|
| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
muddle
|
|
| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
orchard
|
|
| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
intonation
|
|
| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
begotten
|
|
| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
lapse
|
|
| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
pessimism
|
|
| n.悲观者，悲观主义者，厌世者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
futility
|
|
| n.无用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
recital
|
|
| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
negligent
|
|
| adj.疏忽的；玩忽的；粗心大意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
cleansed
|
|
| 弄干净，清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
apparatus
|
|
| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
reassured
|
|
| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
smelt
|
|
| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
stuffy
|
|
| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
triangular
|
|
| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
second-hand
|
|
| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
avowal
|
|
| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
concurred
|
|
| 同意（concur的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |