He was a little bit of a fellow, with long dark hair and dark glowing eyes, and he swayed on the music-stool, as he played and sang, in a manner most new to the young men of Taroomba. He had not much voice, but the sensitive lips took such pains with each word, and the long, nervous fingers fell so lightly upon the old piano, that every one of the egregious3 lines travelled whole and unmistakable to the farthest corner of the room. And that was an additional pity, because the piano was so placed that the performer was forced to turn his back upon his audience; and behind it the young men of Taroomba were making great game of him all the time.
In the moderate light of two kerosene4 lamps, the room seemed full of cord breeches and leather belts and flannel5 collars and sunburnt throats. It was not a large room, however, and there were only four men present, not counting the singer. They were young fellows, in the main, though the one leaning his elbow on the piano had a bushy red beard, and his yellow hair was beginning to thin. Another was reading The Australasian on the sofa; and a sort of twist to his mustache, a certain rigor6 about his unshaven chin, if they betrayed no sympathy with the singer, suggested a measure of contempt for the dumb clownery going on behind the singer's back. Over his very head, indeed, the red-bearded man was signalling maliciously8 to a youth who with coarse fat face and hands was mimicking10 the performer in the middle of the room; while the youngest man of the lot, who wore spectacles and a Home-bred look, giggled11 in a half-ashamed, half-anxious way, as though not a little concerned lest they should all be caught. And when the song ended, and the singer spun12 round on the stool, they had certainly a narrow escape.
"Great song!" cried the mimic9, pulling himself together in an instant, and clapping out a brutal13 burlesque14 of applause.
"Shut up, Sandy," said the man with the beard, dropping a yellow-fringed eyelid15 over a very blue eye. "Don't you mind Mr. Sanderson, sir," he added to the musician; "he's not a bad chap, only he thinks he's funny. We'll show him what funniment really is in a minute or two. I've just found the very song! But what's the price of the last pretty thing?"
"Of 'Love Flees before the Dawn?'" said the musician, simply.
"Yes."
"It's the same as all the rest; you see——"
Here the mimic broke in with a bright, congenial joke.
The sally was greeted with a roar, in which the musician joined timidly, while the man on the sofa smiled faintly without looking up from his paper.
"Never mind him," said the red-bearded man, who was for keeping up the fun as long as possible; "he's too witty17 to live. What did you say the price was?"
"Most of the songs are half a crown."
"Come, I say, that's a stiffish price, isn't it?"
The musician flushed, but tossed back his head of hair, and held out his hand for the song.
"I can't help it, gentlemen. I can't afford to charge less. Every one of these songs has been sent out from Home, and I get them from a man in Melbourne, who makes me pay for them. You're five hundred miles up country, where you can't expect town prices."
"Keep your hair on, old man!" said the wit, soothingly20.
"My what? My hair is my own business!"
The little musician had turned upon his tormentor21 like a knife. His dark eyes were glaring indignantly, and his nervous fingers had twitched22 themselves into a pair of absurdly unserviceable white fists. But now a freckled23 hand was laid upon his shoulder, and the man with the beard was saying,"Come, come, my good fellow, you've made a mistake; my friend Sanderson meant nothing personal. It's our way up here, you know, to chi-ak each other and our visitors too."
"Well, Sandy meant no offence, I'll swear to that."
"Of course I didn't," said Sanderson.
The musician looked from one to the other, and the anger went out of him, making way for shame.
"Then the offence is on my side," said he, awkwardly, "and I beg your pardon."
He took a pile of new music from the piano, and was about to go.
"No, no, we're not going to let you off so easily," said the bearded man, laughing.
"You'll have to sing us one more song to show there's no ill feeling," put in Sanderson.
"And here's the song," added the other. "The very thing. I found it just now. There you are—'The World's Creation!'"
"Not that thing!" said the musician.
"Why not?"
"It's a comic song."
"The very thing we want."
"We'll buy up your whole stock of comic songs," said Sanderson.
"Hear, hear," cried the silent youth who wore spectacles.
"I wish you would," the musician said, smiling.
"But we must hear them first."
"I hate singing them."
"Well, give us this one as a favor! Only this one. Do."
The musician wavered. He was a very sensitive young man, with a constitutional desire to please, and an acute horror of making a fool of himself. Now the whole soul of him was aching with the conviction that he had done this already, in showing his teeth at what had evidently been meant as harmless and inoffensive badinage25. And it was this feeling that engendered26 the desperate desire at once to expiate27 his late display of temper, and to win the good opinion of these men by fairly amusing them after all. Certainly the song in demand did not amuse himself, but then it was equally certain that his taste in humor differed from theirs. He could not decide in his mind. He longed to make these men laugh. To get on with older and rougher men was[Pg 7] his great difficulty, and one of his ambitions.
"We must have this," said the man with the beard, who had been looking over the song. "The words are first chop!"
"I can't stand them," the musician confessed.
"They are too silly."
"Well, they ain't for us. Climb down to our level, and fire away."
With a sigh and a smile, and a full complement29 of those misgivings30 which were a part of his temperament31, the little visitor sat down and played with much vivacity32 a banjo accompaniment which sounded far better than anything else had done on the antiquated33, weather-beaten bush piano. The jingle34 struck fire with the audience, and the performer knew it, as he went on to describe himself as "straight from Old Virginia," with his head "stuffed full of knowledge," in spite of the fact that he had "never been to 'Frisco or any other college;" the entertaining information that "this world it was created in the twinkling of two cracks" bringing the first verse to a conclusion. Then came the chorus—of which there can scarcely be two opinions. The young men[Pg 8] caught it up with a howl, with the exception of the reader on the sofa, who put his fingers in his ears. This is how it went:
Oh, walk up, Mr. Pompey, oh, walk up while I say,
Will you walk into the parlor and hear the banjo ring?
Oh, listen to de darkies how merrily dey sing!
The chorus ended with a whoop36 which assured the soloist37 that he was amusing his men; and having himself one of those susceptible38, excitable natures which can enter into almost anything, given the fair wind of appreciation39 to fill their sails, the little musician began actually to enjoy the nonsense himself. His long fingers rang out the tinkling40 accompaniment with a crisp, confident touch. He sang the second verse, which built up the universe in numbers calculated to shock a religious or even a reasonably cultivated order of mind, as though he were by no means ashamed of it. And so far as culture and religion were concerned he was tolerably safe—each fresh peal41 of laughter reassured42 him of this. That the laugh was with him he never doubted until the end of the third verse. Then it was that the roars of merriment rose louder than ever, and that their note suddenly struck the musician's trained ear as false. He sang through the next verse with an overwhelming sense of its inanity43, and with the life gone out of his voice and fingers alike. Still they roared with laughter, but he who made them knew now that the laugh was at his expense. He turned hot all over, then cold, then hotter than ever. A shadow was dancing on the music in front of him; he could hear a suppressed titter at the back of the boisterous44 laughter; something brushed against his hair, and he could bear it all no longer. Snatching his fingers from the keys, he wheeled round on the music-stool in time to catch the heavy youth Sanderson in the mimic act of braining him with a chair; his tongue was out like a brat's, his eyes shone with a baleful mirth, while the red-bearded man was rolling about the room in an ecstasy45 of malicious7 merriment.
The singer sprang to his feet in a palsy of indignation. His dark eyes glared with the dumb rage of a wounded animal; then they ranged round the room for something with which to strike, and before Sanderson had time to drop the chair he had been brandishing46 over the other's head, the musician had snatched up the kerosene lamp from the top of the piano, and was poising47 it in the air with murderous intent. Yet his anger had not blinded him utterly48. His flashing eyes were fixed49 upon the fat mocking face which he longed to mark for life, but he could also see beyond it, and what he saw made him put down the lamp without a word.
At the other side of the room was a door leading out upon the veranda50; it had been open all the evening, and now it was the frame of an unlooked-for picture, for a tall, strong girl was standing51 upon the threshold.
"Well, I never!" said she, calmly, as she came into their midst with a slow, commanding stride. "So this is the way you play when I'm away, is it? What poor little mice they are, to be sure!"
Sanderson had put down the chair, and was looking indescribably foolish. The boy in the spectacles, though he had been a merely passive party to the late proceedings52, seemed only a little less uncomfortable. The man on the sofa and the little trembling musician were devouring53 the girl with their eyes. It was the personage with the beard who swaggered forward into the breach54.
"Good-evening, Naomi," said he, holding out a hand which she refused to see. "This is Mr. Engelhardt, who has come to tune55 your piano for you. Mr. Engelhardt—Miss Pryse."
The hand which had been refused to the man who was in a position to address Miss Pryse as Naomi, was held out frankly56 to the stranger. It was a firm, cool hand, which left him a stronger and a saner57 man for its touch.
"I am delighted to see you, Mr. Engelhardt. I congratulate you on your songs, and on your spirit, too. It was about time that Mr. Sanderson met somebody who objected to his peculiar58 form of fun. He has been spoiling for this ever since I have known him!"
"Come, I say, Naomi," said the man who was on familiar terms with her, "it was all meant in good part, you know. You're rather rough upon poor Sandy."
"Not so rough as both you and he have been upon a visitor. I am ashamed of you all!"
Her scornful eyes looked black in the lamplight; her eyebrows59 were black. This with her splendid coloring was all the musician could be sure of; though his gaze never shifted from her face. Now she turned to him and said, kindly60:
"I have been enjoying your songs immensely—especially the comic one. I came in some time ago, and have been listening to everything. You sing splendidly."
"These gentlemen will hardly agree with you."
"These gentlemen," said Miss Pryse, laying an unpleasant stress on the word, "disagree with me horribly at times. They make me ill. What a lot of songs you have brought!"
"I brought them to sell," said the young fellow, blushing. "I have just started business—set up shop at Deniliquin—a music-shop, you know. I am making a round to tune the pianos at the stations."
"What a capital idea! You will find ours in a terrible state, I'm afraid."
"Yes, it is rather bad; I was talking about it to the boss before I started to make a fool of myself."
"To the boss, do you say?"
"Yes."
"And pray which is he?"
"Why, bless your life," cried Naomi Pryse, as the red beard split across and showed its teeth, "he's not the boss! Don't you believe it. If you've anything to say to the boss, you'd better come outside and say it."
"But which is he, Miss Pryse?"
"He's a she, and you're talking to her now, Mr. Engelhardt!"
该作者其它作品
《Mr. Justice Raffles》
《A Thief in the Night》
该作者其它作品
《Mr. Justice Raffles》
《A Thief in the Night》
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1
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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egregious
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| adj.非常的，过分的 | |
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kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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rigor
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| n.严酷，严格，严厉 | |
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7
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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mimic
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| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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mimicking
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的现在分词 )；酷似 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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burlesque
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| v.嘲弄，戏仿；n.嘲弄，取笑，滑稽模仿 | |
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15
eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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17
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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18
plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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19
fleas
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| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
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20
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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21
tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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23
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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badinage
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| n.开玩笑，打趣 | |
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engendered
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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expiate
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| v.抵补，赎罪 | |
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28
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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29
complement
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| n.补足物，船上的定员；补语；vt.补充，补足 | |
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30
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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31
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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32
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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35
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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36
whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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soloist
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| n.独奏者，独唱者 | |
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38
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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40
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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41
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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42
reassured
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| 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) | |
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43
inanity
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| n.无意义，无聊 | |
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44
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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45
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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46
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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47
poising
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| 使平衡( poise的现在分词 )； 保持（某种姿势）； 抓紧； 使稳定 | |
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48
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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49
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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50
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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51
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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52
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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53
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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54
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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55
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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56
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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57
saner
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| adj.心智健全的( sane的比较级 )；神志正常的；明智的；稳健的 | |
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58
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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59
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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60
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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