“I expect probably her mother told her the same thing,” the nurse suggested.
“Of course she did. My grandmother——”
“Oh, I guess your GRANDmother thought so, Mr. Adams! That was when all this flat central country was swampish and hadn't been drained off yet. I guess the truth must been the swamp mosquitoes bit people and gave 'em malaria4, especially before they began to put screens in their windows. Well, we got screens in these windows, and no mosquitoes are goin' to bite us; so just you be a good boy and rest your mind and go to sleep like you need to.”
“Sleep?” he said. “Likely!”
He thought the night air worst of all in April; he hadn't a doubt it would kill him, he declared. “It's miraculous5 what the human frame WILL survive,” he admitted on the last evening of that month. “But you and the doctor ought to both be taught it won't stand too dang much! You poison a man and poison and poison him with this April night air——”
“Can't poison you with much more of it,” Miss Perry interrupted him, indulgently. “To-morrow it'll be May night air, and I expect that'll be a lot better for you, don't you? Now let's just sober down and be a good boy and get some nice sound sleep.”
She gave him his medicine, and, having set the glass upon the center table, returned to her cot, where, after a still interval6, she snored faintly. Upon this, his expression became that of a man goaded7 out of overpowering weariness into irony8.
“Sleep? Oh, CERTAINLY, thank you!”
However, he did sleep intermittently9, drowsed between times, and even dreamed; but, forgetting his dreams before he opened his eyes, and having some part of him all the while aware of his discomfort10, he believed, as usual, that he lay awake the whole night long. He was conscious of the city as of some single great creature resting fitfully in the dark outside his windows. It lay all round about, in the damp cover of its night cloud of smoke, and tried to keep quiet for a few hours after midnight, but was too powerful a growing thing ever to lie altogether still. Even while it strove to sleep it muttered with digestions11 of the day before, and these already merged12 with rumblings of the morrow. “Owl” cars, bringing in last passengers over distant trolley-lines, now and then howled on a curve; faraway metallic13 stirrings could be heard from factories in the sooty suburbs on the plain outside the city; east, west, and south, switch-engines chugged and snorted on sidings; and everywhere in the air there seemed to be a faint, voluminous hum as of innumerable wires trembling overhead to vibration14 of machinery15 underground.
In his youth Adams might have been less resentful of sounds such as these when they interfered16 with his night's sleep: even during an illness he might have taken some pride in them as proof of his citizenship17 in a “live town”; but at fifty-five he merely hated them because they kept him awake. They “pressed on his nerves,” as he put it; and so did almost everything else, for that matter.
He heard the milk-wagon drive into the cross-street beneath his windows and stop at each house. The milkman carried his jars round to the “back porch,” while the horse moved slowly ahead to the gate of the next customer and waited there. “He's gone into Pollocks',” Adams thought, following this progress. “I hope it'll sour on 'em before breakfast. Delivered the Andersons'. Now he's getting out ours. Listen to the darn brute18! What's HE care who wants to sleep!” His complaint was of the horse, who casually19 shifted weight with a clink of steel shoes on the worn brick pavement of the street, and then heartily20 shook himself in his harness, perhaps to dislodge a fly far ahead of its season. Light had just filmed the windows; and with that the first sparrow woke, chirped21 instantly, and roused neighbours in the trees of the small yard, including a loud-voiced robin22. Vociferations began irregularly, but were soon unanimous.
“Sleep? Dang likely now, ain't it!”
Night sounds were becoming day sounds; the far-away hooting23 of freight-engines seemed brisker than an hour ago in the dark. A cheerful whistler passed the house, even more careless of sleepers24 than the milkman's horse had been; then a group of coloured workmen came by, and although it was impossible to be sure whether they were homeward bound from night-work or on their way to day-work, at least it was certain that they were jocose25. Loose, aboriginal26 laughter preceded them afar, and beat on the air long after they had gone by.
The sick-room night-light, shielded from his eyes by a newspaper propped27 against a water-pitcher, still showed a thin glimmering28 that had grown offensive to Adams. In his wandering and enfeebled thoughts, which were much more often imaginings than reasonings, the attempt of the night-light to resist the dawn reminded him of something unpleasant, though he could not discover just what the unpleasant thing was. Here was a puzzle that irritated him the more because he could not solve it, yet always seemed just on the point of a solution. However, he may have lost nothing cheerful by remaining in the dark upon the matter; for if he had been a little sharper in this introspection he might have concluded that the squalor of the night-light, in its seeming effort to show against the forerunning of the sun itself, had stimulated29 some half-buried perception within him to sketch30 the painful little synopsis31 of an autobiography32.
In spite of noises without, he drowsed again, not knowing that he did; and when he opened his eyes the nurse was just rising from her cot. He took no pleasure in the sight, it may be said. She exhibited to him a face mismodelled by sleep, and set like a clay face left on its cheek in a hot and dry studio. She was still only in part awake, however, and by the time she had extinguished the night-light and given her patient his tonic33, she had recovered enough plasticity. “Well, isn't that grand! We've had another good night,” she said as she departed to dress in the bathroom.
“Yes, you had another!” he retorted, though not until after she had closed the door.
Presently he heard his daughter moving about in her room across the narrow hall, and so knew that she had risen. He hoped she would come in to see him soon, for she was the one thing that didn't press on his nerves, he felt; though the thought of her hurt him, as, indeed, every thought hurt him. But it was his wife who came first.
She wore a lank34 cotton wrapper, and a crescent of gray hair escaped to one temple from beneath the handkerchief she had worn upon her head for the night and still retained; but she did everything possible to make her expression cheering.
“Oh, you're better again! I can see that, as soon as I look at you,” she said. “Miss Perry tells me you've had another splendid night.”
He made a sound of irony, which seemed to dispose unfavourably of Miss Perry, and then, in order to be more certainly intelligible35, he added, “She slept well, as usual!”
But his wife's smile persisted. “It's a good sign to be cross; it means you're practically convalescent right now.”
“Oh, I am, am I?”
“No doubt in the world!” she exclaimed. “Why, you're practically a well man, Virgil—all except getting your strength back, of course, and that isn't going to take long. You'll be right on your feet in a couple of weeks from now.”
“Oh, I will?”
“Of course you will!” She laughed briskly, and, going to the table in the center of the room, moved his glass of medicine an inch or two, turned a book over so that it lay upon its other side, and for a few moments occupied herself with similar futilities, having taken on the air of a person who makes things neat, though she produced no such actual effect upon them. “Of course you will,” she repeated, absently. “You'll be as strong as you ever were; maybe stronger.” She paused for a moment, not looking at him, then added, cheerfully, “So that you can fly around and find something really good to get into.”
Something important between them came near the surface here, for though she spoke36 with what seemed but a casual cheerfulness, there was a little betraying break in her voice, a trembling just perceptible in the utterance37 of the final word. And she still kept up the affectation of being helpfully preoccupied38 with the table, and did not look at her husband—perhaps because they had been married so many years that without looking she knew just what his expression would be, and preferred to avoid the actual sight of it as long as possible. Meanwhile, he stared hard at her, his lips beginning to move with little distortions not lacking in the pathos39 of a sick man's agitation40.
“So that's it,” he said. “That's what you're hinting at.”
“'Hinting?'” Mrs. Adams looked surprised and indulgent. “Why, I'm not doing any hinting, Virgil.”
“What did you say about my finding 'something good to get into?'” he asked, sharply. “Don't you call that hinting?”
Mrs. Adams turned toward him now; she came to the bedside and would have taken his hand, but he quickly moved it away from her.
“You mustn't let yourself get nervous,” she said. “But of course when you get well there's only one thing to do. You mustn't go back to that old hole again.”
“'Old hole?' That's what you call it, is it?” In spite of his weakness, anger made his voice strident, and upon this stimulation41 she spoke more urgently.
“You just mustn't go back to it, Virgil. It's not fair to any of us, and you know it isn't.”
“Don't tell me what I know, please!”
She clasped her hands, suddenly carrying her urgency to plaintive42 entreaty43. “Virgil, you WON'T go back to that hole?”
“That's a nice word to use to me!” he said. “Call a man's business a hole!”
“Virgil, if you don't owe it to me to look for something different, don't you owe it to your children? Don't tell me you won't do what we all want you to, and what you know in your heart you ought to! And if you HAVE got into one of your stubborn fits and are bound to go back there for no other reason except to have your own way, don't tell me so, for I can't bear it!”
He looked up at her fiercely. “You've got a fine way to cure a sick man!” he said; but she had concluded her appeal—for that time—and instead of making any more words in the matter, let him see that there were tears in her eyes, shook her head, and left the room.
Alone, he lay breathing rapidly, his emaciated44 chest proving itself equal to the demands his emotion put upon it. “Fine!” he repeated, with husky indignation. “Fine way to cure a sick man! Fine!” Then, after a silence, he gave forth45 whispering sounds as of laughter, his expression the while remaining sore and far from humour.
“And give us our daily bread!” he added, meaning that his wife's little performance was no novelty.
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1
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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gumption
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| n.才干 | |
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malaria
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| n.疟疾 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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6
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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7
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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intermittently
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| adv.间歇地；断断续续 | |
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10
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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digestions
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| n.消化能力( digestion的名词复数 )；消化，领悟 | |
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12
merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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13
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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14
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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15
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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16
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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17
citizenship
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| n.市民权，公民权，国民的义务(身份) | |
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18
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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21
chirped
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的过去式 ) | |
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22
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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23
hooting
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 )； 倒好儿； 倒彩 | |
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24
sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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25
jocose
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| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
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aboriginal
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| adj.（指动植物）土生的，原产地的，土著的 | |
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27
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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29
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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30
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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synopsis
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| n.提要，梗概 | |
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32
autobiography
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| n.自传 | |
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33
tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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34
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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35
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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36
spoke
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| 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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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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38
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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39
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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40
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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41
stimulation
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| n.刺激，激励，鼓舞 | |
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42
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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43
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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44
emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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45
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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