She made announcement that her spell of insomnia6 was over and that she was ripe for all gaieties and excursions Dick had to offer her. Further, she threatened, in case Dick grudged7 these personal diversions, to fill the house with guests and teach him what liveliness was. It was at this time that her Aunt Martha—Mrs. Tully— returned for a several days’ visit, and that Paula resumed the driving of Duddy and Fuddy in the high, one-seated Stude-baker trap. Duddy and Fuddy were spirited trotters, but Mrs. Tully, despite her elderliness and avoirdupois, was without timidity when Paula held the reins8.
As Mrs. Tully told Graham: “And that is a concession9 I make to no woman save Paula. She is the only woman I can trust myself to with horses. She has the horse-way about her. When she was a child she was wild over horses. It’s a wonder she didn’t become a circus rider.”
More, much more, Graham learned about Paula in various chats with her aunt. Of Philip Desten, Paula’s father, Mrs. Tully could never say enough. Her eldest10 brother, and older by many years, he had been her childhood prince. His ways had been big ways, princely ways—ways that to commoner folk had betokened11 a streak12 of madness. He was continually guilty of the wildest things and the most chivalrous13 things. It was this streak that had enabled him to win various fortunes, and with equal facility to lose them, in the great gold adventure of Forty-nine. Himself of old New England stock, he had had for great grandfather a Frenchman—a trifle of flotsam from a mid-ocean wreck14 and landed to grow up among the farmer-sailormen of the coast of Maine.
“And once, and once only, in each generation, that French Desten crops out,” Mrs. Tully assured Graham. “Philip was that Frenchman in his generation, and who but Paula, and in full measure, received that same inheritance in her generation. Though Lute3 and Ernestine are her half-sisters, no one would imagine one drop of the common blood was shared. That’s why Paula, instead of going circus-riding, drifted inevitably15 to France. It was that old original Desten that drew her over.”
And of the adventure in France, Graham learned much. Philip Desten’s luck had been to die when the wheel of his fortune had turned over and down. Ernestine and Lute, little tots, had been easy enough for Desten’s sisters to manage. But Paula, who had fallen to Mrs. Tully, had been the problem—"because of that Frenchman.”
“Oh, she is rigid16 New England,” Mrs. Tully insisted, “the solidest of creatures as to honor and rectitude, dependableness and faithfulness. As a girl she really couldn’t bring herself to lie, except to save others. In which case all her New England ancestry17 took flight and she would lie as magnificently as her father before her. And he had the same charm of manner, the same daring, the same ready laughter, the same vivacity18. But what is lightsome and blithe19 in her, was debonaire in him. He won men’s hearts always, or, failing that, their bitterest enmity. No one was left cold by him in passing. Contact with him quickened them to love or hate. Therein Paula differs, being a woman, I suppose, and not enjoying man’s prerogative20 of tilting21 at windmills. I don’t know that she has an enemy in the world. All love her, unless, it may well be, there are cat-women who envy her her nice husband.”
And as Graham listened, Paula’s singing came through the open window from somewhere down the long arcades22, and there was that ever-haunting thrill in her voice that he could not escape remembering afterward23. She burst into laughter, and Mrs. Tully beamed to him and nodded at the sound.
“There laughs Philip Desten,” she murmured, “and all the Frenchwomen behind the original Frenchman who was brought into Penobscot, dressed in homespun, and sent to meeting. Have you noticed how Paula’s laugh invariably makes everybody look up and smile? Philip’s laugh did the same thing.”
“Paula had always been passionately25 fond of music, painting, drawing. As a little girl she could be traced around the house and grounds by the trail she left behind her of images and shapes, made in whatever medium she chanced upon—drawn on scraps26 of paper, scratched on bits of wood, modeled in mud and sand.
“She loved everything, and everything loved her,” said Mrs. Tully. “She was never timid of animals. And yet she always stood in awe27 of them; but she was born sense-struck, and her awe was beauty-awe. Yes, she was an incorrigible28 hero-worshiper, whether the person was merely beautiful or did things. And she never will outgrow29 that beauty—awe of anything she loves, whether it is a grand piano, a great painting, a beautiful mare30, or a bit of landscape.
“And Paula had wanted to do, to make beauty herself. But she was sorely puzzled whether she should devote herself to music or painting. In the full swing of work under the best masters in Boston, she could not refrain from straying back to her drawing. From her easel she was lured31 to modeling.
“And so, with her love of the best, her soul and heart full of beauty, she grew quite puzzled and worried over herself, as to which talent was the greater and if she had genius at all. I suggested a complete rest from work and took her abroad for a year. And of all things, she developed a talent for dancing. But always she harked back to her music and painting. No, she was not flighty. Her trouble was that she was too talented—”
“Yes, that is better,” Mrs. Tully nodded. “But from talent to genius is a far cry, and to save my life, at this late day, I don’t know whether the child ever had a trace of genius in her. She has certainly not done anything big in any of her chosen things.”
“Except to be herself,” Graham added.
“Which is the big thing,” Mrs. Tully accepted with a smile of enthusiasm. “She is a splendid, unusual woman, very unspoiled, very natural. And after all, what does doing things amount to? I’d give more for one of Paula’s madcap escapades—oh, I heard all about swimming the big stallion—than for all her pictures if every one was a masterpiece. But she was hard for me to understand at first. Dick often calls her the girl that never grew up. But gracious, she can put on the grand air when she needs to. I call her the most mature child I have ever seen. Dick was the finest thing that ever happened to her. It was then that she really seemed for the first time to find herself. It was this way.”
And Mrs. Tully went on to sketch33 the year of travel in Europe, the resumption of Paula’s painting in Paris, and the conviction she finally reached that success could be achieved only by struggle and that her aunt’s money was a handicap.
“And she had her way,” Mrs. Tully sighed. “She—why, she dismissed me, sent me home. She would accept no more than the meagerest allowance, and went down into the Latin Quarter on her own, batching with two other American girls. And she met Dick. Dick was a rare one. You couldn’t guess what he was doing then. Running a cabaret—oh, not these modern cabarets, but a real students’ cabaret of sorts. It was very select. They were a lot of madmen. You see, he was just back from some of his wild adventuring at the ends of the earth, and, as he stated it, he wanted to stop living life for a while and to talk about life instead.
“Paula took me there once. Oh, they were engaged—the day before, and he had called on me and all that. I had known ‘Lucky’ Richard Forrest, and I knew all about his son. From a worldly standpoint, Paula couldn’t have made a finer marriage. It was quite a romance. Paula had seen him captain the University of California eleven to victory over Stanford. And the next time she saw him was in the studio she shared with the two girls. She didn’t know whether Dick was worth millions or whether he was running a cabaret because he was hard up, and she cared less. She always followed her heart. Fancy the situation: Dick the uncatchable, and Paula who never flirted34. They must have sprung forthright35 into each other’s arms, for inside the week it was all arranged, and Dick made his call on me, as if my decision meant anything one way or the other.
“But Dick’s cabaret. It was the Cabaret of the Philosophers—a small pokey place, down in a cellar, in the heart of the Quarter, and it had only one table. Fancy that for a cabaret! But such a table! A big round one, of plain boards, without even an oil-cloth, the wood stained with the countless36 drinks spilled by the table-pounding of the philosophers, and it could seat thirty. Women were not permitted. An exception was made for Paula and me.
“You’ve met Aaron Hancock here. He was one of the philosophers, and to this day he swaggers that he owed Dick a bigger bill that never was paid than any of his customers. And there they used to meet, all those wild young thinkers, and pound the table, and talk philosophy in all the tongues of Europe. Dick always had a penchant37 for philosophers.
“But Paula spoiled that little adventure. No sooner were they married than Dick fitted out his schooner38, the All Away, and away the blessed pair of them went, honeymooning39 from Bordeaux to Hongkong.”
“And the cabaret was closed, and the philosophers left homeless and discussionless,” Graham remarked.
“He endowed it for them,” she gasped41, her hand to her side. “Or partially42 endowed it, or something. I don’t know what the arrangement was. And within the month it was raided by the police for an anarchist43 club.”
After having learned the wide scope of her interests and talents, Graham was nevertheless surprised one day at finding Paula all by herself in a corner of a window-seat, completely absorbed in her work on a piece of fine embroidery44.
“I love it,” she explained. “All the costly45 needlework of the shops means nothing to me alongside of my own work on my own designs. Dick used to fret46 at my sewing. He’s all for efficiency, you know, elimination47 of waste energy and such things. He thought sewing was a wasting of time. Peasants could be hired for a song to do what I was doing. But I succeeded in making my viewpoint clear to him.
“It’s like the music one makes oneself. Of course I can buy better music than I make; but to sit down at an instrument and evoke48 the music oneself, with one’s own fingers and brain, is an entirely49 different and dearer satisfaction. Whether one tries to emulate50 another’s performance, or infuses the performance with one’s own personality and interpretation51, it’s all the same. It is soul-joy and fulfilment.
“Take this little embroidered52 crust of lilies on the edge of this flounce—there is nothing like it in the world. Mine the idea, all mine, and mine the delight of giving form and being to the idea. There are better ideas and better workmanship in the shops; but this is different. It is mine. I visioned it, and I made it. And who is to say that embroidery is not art?”
She ceased speaking and with her eyes laughed the insistence53 of her question.
“And who is to say,” Graham agreed, “that the adorning54 of beautiful womankind is not the worthiest55 of all the arts as well as the sweetest?”
“I rather stand in awe of a good milliner or modiste,” she nodded gravely. “They really are artists, and important ones, as Dick would phrase it, in the world’s economy.”
Another time, seeking the library for Andean reference, Graham came upon Paula, sprawled56 gracefully57 over a sheet of paper on a big table and flanked by ponderous59 architectural portfolios60, engaged in drawing plans of a log bungalow61 or camp for the sages62 of the madroño grove63.
“It’s a problem,” she sighed. “Dick says that if I build it I must build it for seven. We’ve got four sages now, and his heart is set on seven. He says never mind showers and such things, because what philosopher ever bathes? And he has suggested seriously seven stoves and seven kitchens, because it is just over such mundane64 things that philosophers always quarrel.”
“Wasn’t it Voltaire who quarreled with a king over candle-ends?” Graham queried65, pleasuring in the sight of her graceful58 abandon. Thirty-eight! It was impossible. She seemed almost a girl, petulant66 and flushed over some school task. Then he remembered Mrs. Tully’s remark that Paula was the most mature child she had ever known.
It made him wonder. Was she the one, who, under the oaks at the hitching67 rails, with two brief sentences had cut to the heart of an impending68 situation? “So I apprehend69,” she had said. What had she apprehended70? Had she used the phrase glibly71, without meaning? Yet she it was who had thrilled and fluttered to him and with him when they had sung the “Gypsy Trail.” That he knew. But again, had he not seen her warm and glow to the playing of Donald Ware72? But here Graham’s ego73 had its will of him, for he told himself that with Donald Ware it was different. And he smiled to himself and at himself at the thought.
“What amuses you?” Paula was asking.
“Heaven knows I am no architect. And I challenge you to house seven philosophers according to all the absurd stipulations laid down by Dick.”
Back in his tower room with his Andean books unopened before him, Graham gnawed74 his lip and meditated75. The woman was no woman. She was the veriest child. Or—and he hesitated at the thought—was this naturalness that was overdone76? Did she in truth apprehend? It must be. It had to be. She was of the world. She knew the world. She was very wise. No remembered look of her gray eyes but gave the impression of poise77 and power. That was it—strength! He recalled her that first night when she had seemed at times to glint an impression of steel, of thin and jewel-like steel. In his fancy, at the time, he remembered likening her strength to ivory, to carven pearl shell, to sennit twisted of maidens’ hair.
And he knew, now, ever since the brief words at the hitching rails and the singing of the “Gypsy Trail,” that whenever their eyes looked into each other’s it was with a mutual78 knowledge of unsaid things.
In vain he turned the pages of the books for the information he sought. He tried to continue his chapter without the information, but no words flowed from his pen. A maddening restlessness was upon him. He seized a time table and pondered the departure of trains, changed his mind, switched the room telephone to the house barn, and asked to have Altadena saddled.
It was a perfect morning of California early summer. No breath of wind stirred over the drowsing fields, from which arose the calls of quail79 and the notes of meadowlarks. The air was heavy with lilac fragrance80, and from the distance, as he rode between the lilac hedges, Graham heard the throaty nicker of Mountain Lad and the silvery answering whinney of the Fotherington Princess.
Why was he here astride Dick Forrest’s horse? Graham asked himself. Why was he not even then on the way to the station to catch that first train he had noted81 on the time table? This unaccustomed weakness of decision and action was a new rôle for him, he considered bitterly. But—and he was on fire with the thought of it—this was his one life, and this was the one woman in the world.
He reined82 aside to let a herd83 of Angora goats go by. Each was a doe, and there were several hundred of them; and they were moved slowly by the Basque herdsmen, with frequent pauses, for each doe was accompanied by a young kid. In the paddock were many mares with new-born colts; and once, receiving warning in time, Graham raced into a crossroad to escape a drove of thirty yearling stallions being moved somewhere across the ranch84. Their excitement was communicated to that entire portion of the ranch, so that the air was filled with shrill85 nickerings and squealings and answering whinneys, while Mountain Lad, beside himself at sight and sound of so many rivals, raged up and down his paddock, and again and again trumpeted86 his challenging conviction that he was the most amazing and mightiest87 thing that had ever occurred on earth in the way of horse flesh.
Dick Forrest pranced88 and sidled into the cross road on the Outlaw89, his face beaming with delight at the little tempest among his many creatures.
“Fecundity90! Fecundity!"—he chanted in greeting, as he reined in to a halt, if halt it might be called, with his tan-golden sorrel mare a-fret and a-froth, wickedly reaching with her teeth now for his leg and next for Graham’s, one moment pawing the roadway, the next moment, in sheer impotence of resentfulness, kicking the empty air with one hind24 leg and kicking the air repeatedly, a dozen times.
“Those youngsters certainly put Mountain Lad on his mettle,” Dick laughed. “Listen to his song:
“’Hear me! I am Eros. I stamp upon the hills. I fill the wide valleys. The mares hear me, and startle, in quiet pastures; for they know me. The land is filled with fatness, and the sap is in the trees. It is the spring. The spring is mine. I am monarch91 of my kingdom of the spring. The mares remember my voice. They knew me aforetime through their mothers before them. Hear me! I am Eros. I stamp upon the hills, and the wide valleys are my heralds92, echoing the sound of my approach.’”
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1
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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lute
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| n.琵琶，鲁特琴 | |
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patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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insomnia
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| n.失眠，失眠症 | |
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7
grudged
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| 怀恨（grudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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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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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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prerogative
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| n.特权 | |
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tilting
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| 倾斜，倾卸 | |
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arcades
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| n.商场( arcade的名词复数 )；拱形走道（两旁有商店或娱乐设施）；连拱廊；拱形建筑物 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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outgrow
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| vt.长大得使…不再适用；成长得不再要 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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amplified
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| 放大，扩大( amplify的过去式和过去分词 )； 增强； 详述 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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flirted
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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forthright
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| adj.直率的，直截了当的 [同]frank | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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penchant
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| n.爱好，嗜好；（强烈的）倾向 | |
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schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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honeymooning
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| 度蜜月（honeymoon的现在分词形式） | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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anarchist
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| n.无政府主义者 | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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elimination
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| n.排除，消除，消灭 | |
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evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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49
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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50
emulate
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| v.努力赶上或超越，与…竞争；效仿 | |
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51
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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53
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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54
adorning
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| 修饰，装饰物 | |
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worthiest
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| 应得某事物( worthy的最高级 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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56
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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portfolios
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| n.投资组合( portfolio的名词复数 )；（保险）业务量；（公司或机构提供的）系列产品；纸夹 | |
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61
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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sages
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| n.圣人( sage的名词复数 )；智者；哲人；鼠尾草（可用作调料） | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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mundane
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| adj.平凡的；尘世的；宇宙的 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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66
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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67
hitching
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| 搭乘； （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的现在分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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68
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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69
apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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71
glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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72
ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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73
ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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74
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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75
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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76
overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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78
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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79
quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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80
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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81
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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82
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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83
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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84
ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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85
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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86
trumpeted
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| 大声说出或宣告（trumpet的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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87
mightiest
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| adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 )；巨大的；强有力的；浩瀚的 | |
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88
pranced
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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90
fecundity
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| n.生产力；丰富 | |
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91
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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92
heralds
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| n.使者( herald的名词复数 )；预报者；预兆；传令官v.预示( herald的第三人称单数 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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