Exactly a week passed, and Easter had come, before Rachel could set out upon an enterprise which she both longed and hated to perform. In the meantime the situation in the house remained stationary1, except that after a relapse Louis' condition had gradually improved. She nursed him; he permitted himself to be nursed; she slept near him every night; no scene of irritation2 passed between them. But nothing was explained; even the fact that Rachel on the Saturday morning had overtaken Louis instead of meeting him—a detail which in secret considerably3 puzzled Louis, since it implied that his wife had been in the house when he left it—even this was not explained; as for the motor-car, Louis, absorbed, had scarcely noticed it, and Rachel did not mention it. She went on from one day into the next, proud, self-satisfied, sure of her strength and her position, indifferently scornful of Louis, and yet fatally stricken; she knew not in the least what was to be done, and so she waited for Destiny. Louis had to stop in bed for five days. His relapse worried Dr. Yardley, who, however, like many doctors, was kept in complete ignorance of the truth; Rachel was ashamed to confess that her husband had monstrously4 taken advantage of her absence to rise up and dress and go out; and Louis had said no word. On the Friday he was permitted to sit in a chair in the bedroom, and on Saturday he had the freedom of the house. It surprised Rachel that on the Saturday he had not dashed for the street, for after the exploit of the previous Saturday she was ready to expect anything. Had he done so she would not have interfered5; he was really convalescent, and also the number of white stripes over his face and hair had diminished. In the afternoon he reclined on the Chesterfield to read, and fell asleep. Then it was that Rachel set out upon her enterprise. She said not a word to Louis, but instructed Mrs. Tams to inform the master, if he inquired, that she had gone over to Knype to see Mr. Maldon.
"Are you a friend of Mester Maldon's?" asked the grey-haired slattern who answered her summons at the door of Julian's lodgings6 in Granville Street, Knype. There was a challenge in the woman's voice. Rachel accepted it at once.
"Yes, I am," she said, with decision.
"Well, I don't know as I want any o' Mester Maldon's friends here," said the landlady7 loudly. "Mester Maldon's done a flit from here, Mester Maldon has; and," coming out on to the pavement and pointing upward to a broken pane8 in the first-floor window, "that's a bit o' his fancy work afore he flitted!"
Rachel put her lips together.
"Can you give me his new address?"
"Can I give yer his new address? Pr'aps I can and pr'aps I canna, but I dunna see why I should waste my breath on Mester Maldon's friends—that I dunna! And I wunna!"
Rachel walked away. Before she reached the end of the frowsy street, whose meanness and monotony of tiny-bow-windows exemplified intensely the most deplorable characteristics of a district where brutish licence is decreasing, she was overtaken by a lanky9 girl in a pinafore.
"If ye please, miss, Mester Maldon's gone to live at 29 Birches Street, 'anbridge."
Rachel, had to walk half a mile to reach the tram-route. This re-visiting of her native town, which she had quitted only a few weeks earlier, seemed to her like the sad resumption of an existence long forgotten. She was self-conscious and hoped that she would not encounter the curiosity of any of her Knype acquaintances. She felt easier when she was within the sheltering car and rumbling11 and jerking through the gloomy carnival12 of Easter Saturday afternoon in Knype and Cauldon on the way to Hanbridge.
After leaving the car in Crown Square, she had to climb through all the western quarter of Hanbridge to the very edge of the town, on the hummock13 that separates it from the Axe14 Moorlands. Birches Street, as she had guessed, was in the suburb known as Birches Pike. It ran right to the top of the hill, and the upper portion consisted of new cottage-houses in groups of two or three, with vacant lots between. Why should Julian have chosen Birches Street for residence, seeing that his business was in Knype? It was a repellent street; it was out even of the little world where sordidness15 is at any rate dignified16 by tradition and anaemic ideals can support each other in close companionship. It had neither a past nor a future. The steep end of it was an horizon of cloud. The April east wind blew the smoke of Hanbridge right across it.
In this east wind men in shirt-sleeves, and women with aprons17 over their heads, stood nonchalantly at cottage gates contemplating18 the vacuum of leisure. On two different parcels of land teams of shrieking19 boys were playing football, with piles of caps and jackets to serve as goal-posts. To the left, in a clough, was an enormous yellow marlpit, with pools of water in its depths, and gangways of planks20 along them, and a few overturned wheelbarrows lying here and there. A group of men drove at full speed up the street in a dogcart behind a sweating cob, stopped violently at the summit, and, taking watches from pockets, began to let pigeons out of baskets. The pigeons rose in wide circles and were lost in the vast dome21 of melancholy22 that hung over the district.
II
No. 29 was the second house from the top, new, and already in decay. It and its attached twin were named "Prospect23 Villas24" in vermilion tiles on the yellowish-red bricks of the façade. Hot, and yet chilled by the wind, Rachel hesitated a moment at the gate, suddenly realizing the perils25 of her mission. And then she saw Julian Maldon standing26 in the bay-window of the ground floor; he was eating. Simultaneously27 he recognized her.
She thought, "I can't go back now."
He came sheepishly to the front door and asked her to walk in.
"Who'd have thought of seeing you?" he exclaimed. "You must take me as I am. I've only just moved in."
"A rare row I had there!" he murmured.
She understood, with a pang29 of compassion30 and yet with feminine disdain31, the horrible thing that his daily existence was. No wonder he would never allow Mrs. Maldon to go and see him! The spectacle of his secret squalor would have desolated32 the old lady.
"Don't take any notice of all this," he said apologetically, as he preceded her into the room where she had seen him standing. "I'm not straight yet.... Not that it matters. By the way, take a seat, will you?"
Rachel courageously33 sat down.
Just as there were no curtains to the windows, so there was no carpet on the planked floor. A few pieces of new, cheap, ignoble34 furniture half filled the room. In one corner was a sofa-bedstead covered with an army blanket, in the middle a crimson-legged deal table, partly covered with a dirty cloth, and on the cloth were several apples, an orange, and a hunk of brown bread—his meal. Although he had only just "moved in," dust had had time to settle thickly on all the furniture. No pictures of any kind hid the huge sunflower that made the pattern of the wall-paper. In the hearth35, which lacked a fender, a small fire was expiring.
"Ye see," said Julian, "I only eat when I'm hungry. It's a good plan. So I'm eating now. I've turned vegetarian36. There's naught37 like it. I've chucked all that guzzling38 an swilling39 business. It's no good. I never touch a drop of liquor, nor a morsel40 of fleshmeat. Nor smoke, either. When you come to think of it, smoking's a disgusting habit."
Rachel said, pleasantly, "But you were smoking last week, surely?"
"Ah! But it's since then. I don't mind telling you. In fact, I meant to tell you, anyhow. I've turned over a new leaf. And it wasn't too soon. I've joined the Knype Ethical41 Society. So there you are!" His voice grew defiant42 and fierce, as in the past, and he proceeded with his meal.
Rachel knew nothing of the Knype Ethical Society, except that in spite of its name it was regarded with unfriendly suspicion by the respectable as an illicit43 rival of churches and chapels44 and a haunt of dubious45 characters who, under high-sounding mottoes, were engaged in the wicked scheme of setting class against class. She had accepted the general verdict on the Knype Ethical Society. And now she was confirmed in it. As she gazed at Julian Maldon in that dreadful interior, chewing apples and brown bread and sucking oranges, only when he felt hungry, she loathed46 the Knype Ethical Society. It was nothing to her that the Knype Ethical Society was responsible for a religious and majestic47 act in Julian Maldon—the act of turning over a new leaf.
"And why did you come up here?"
"Oh, various reasons!" said Julian, with a certain fictitious48 nonchalance49, beneath which was all his old ferocious50 domination. "You see, I didn't get enough exercise before. Lived too close to the works. In fact, a silly existence. I saw it all plain enough as soon as I got back from South Africa.... Exercise! What you want is for your skin to act at least once every day. Don't you think so?" He seemed to be appealing to her for moral support in some revolutionary theory.
"Well—I'm sure I don't know."
Julian continued—
"If you ask me, I believe there are some people who never perspire51 from one year's end to another. Never! How can they expect to be well? How can they expect even to be clean? The pores, you know. I've been reading a lot about it. Well, I walk up here from Knype full speed every day. Everybody ought to do it. Then I have a bath."
"Oh! Is there a bathroom?"
"No, there isn't," he answered curtly52. Then in a tone of apology: "But I manage. You see, I'm going to save. I was spending too much down there—furnished rooms. Here I took two rooms—this one and a kitchen—unfurnished; very much cheaper, of course. I've just fixed53 them up temporarily. Little by little they'll be improved. The woman upstairs comes in for half an hour in the morning and just cleans up when I'm gone."
"And does your cooking?"
"Not much!" said Julian bravely. "I do that myself. In the first place, I want very little cooking. Cooking's not natural. And what bit I do want—well, I have my own ideas about it, I've got a little pamphlet about rational eating and cooking. You might read it. Everybody ought to read it."
"I suppose all that sort of thing's very interesting," Rachel remarked at large, with politeness.
"It is," Julian said emphatically.
Neither of them felt the necessity of defining what was meant by "all that sort of thing." The phrase had been used with intention and was perfectly54 understood.
"But if you want to know what I really came up here for," Julian resumed, "I'll show you."
"Where?"
"Outside." And he repeated, "I'll show you."
III
She followed him as, bareheaded, he hurried out of the room into the street.
"Shan't you take cold without anything on your head in this wind?" she suggested mildly.
He would have snapped off the entire head of any other person who had ventured to make the suggestion. But he treated Rachel more gently because he happened to think that she was the only truly sensible and kind woman he had ever met in his life.
"No fear!" he muttered.
At the front gate he stopped and looked back at his bay-window.
"Now—curtains!" he said. "I won't have curtains. Blinds, at night, yes, if you like. But curtains! I never could see any use in curtains. Fallals! Keep the light out! Dust-traps!"
Rachel gazed at him. Despite his beard, he appeared to her as a big schoolboy, blundering about in the world, a sort of leviathan puppy in earnest. She liked him, on account of an occasional wistful expression in his eyes, and because she had been kind to him during his fearful visit to Bycars. She even admired him, for his cruel honesty and force. At the same time, he excited her compassion to an acute degree. As she gazed at him the tears were ready to start from her eyes. What she had seen, and what she had heard of the new existence which he was organizing for himself made her feel sick with pity. But mingled55 with her pity was a sharp disdain. The idea of Julian talking about cleanliness, dust-traps, and rationality gave her a desire to laugh and cry at once. All the stolid56 and yet wary57 conservatism of her character revolted against meals at odd hours, brown bread, apples, orange-sucking, action of the skin, male cooking, camp-beds, the frowsiness of casual charwomen, bare heads, and especially bare windows. If Rachel had been absolutely free to civilize58 Julian's life, she would have begun by measuring the bay-window.
She said firmly—
"I must say I don't agree with you about curtains."
"Don't ye?"
"No."
"Straight?"
She nodded.
He drew breath. "Well, I'll get some—if it'll satisfy you."
His surrender was intensely dramatic to her. It filled her with happiness, with a consciousness of immense power. She thought: "I can influence him. I alone can influence him. Unless I look after him his existence will be dreadful—dreadful."
"You'd much better let me buy them for you." She smiled persuasively61.
"Have it your own way!" he said gloomily. "Just come along up here."
He led her up to the top of the street.
"Ye'll see what I live up here for," he muttered as they approached the summit.
The other half of the world lay suddenly at their feet as they capped the brow, but it was obscured by mist and cloud. The ragged62 downward road was lost in the middle distance amid vaporous grey-greens and earthy browns.
"No go!" he exclaimed crossly. "Not clear enough! But on a fine day ye can see Axe and Axe Edge.... Finest view in the Five Towns."
"What a pity!" she sympathized eagerly. "I'm sure it must be splendid." His situation seemed extraordinarily64 tragic65 to her. His short hair, ruffled66 by the keen wind, was just like a boy's hair and somehow the sight of it touched her deeply.
He put his hands far into his pockets and drummed one foot on the ground.
"What brought ye up here?" he demanded, with his eyes on an invisible town of Axe.
She opened her hand-bag.
"I came to bring you this," she said, and offered him an envelope, which he took, wonderingly.
Then, when he had it in his hands, he said abruptly67, angrily, "If it's that money, I won't take it."
"Yes you will."
"Has Louis sent ye?" This was the first mention of Louis, though he was well aware of the accident.
She shook her head.
"Well, let him keep his half, and you can keep mine."
"It's all there."
"How—all there?"
"All that you left the other night."
"But—but—" He seemed to be furious as he faced her.
Rachel went on—
"The other part of the missing money's been found ... Louis had it. So all this belongs to you. If some one hadn't told you it wouldn't have been fair."
She flushed slowly, trembling, but looking at him.
"Well!" Julian burst out with savage68 solemnity, "there's not many of your sort knocking about. By G—— there isn't!"
"Here!" he shouted, fingering the envelope.
But she kept on at a swift pace towards Hanbridge. About a quarter of a mile down the road the pigeon-flyer's dogcart stood empty outside a public-house.
《How to Live on 24 Hours a Day》
《How to Live on 24 Hours a Day》
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stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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monstrously
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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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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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lanky
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| adj.瘦长的 | |
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giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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hummock
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| n.小丘 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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sordidness
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| n.肮脏；污秽；卑鄙；可耻 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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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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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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desolated
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| adj.荒凉的，荒废的 | |
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courageously
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| ad.勇敢地，无畏地 | |
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ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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vegetarian
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| n.素食者；adj.素食的 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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guzzling
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| v.狂吃暴饮，大吃大喝( guzzle的现在分词 ) | |
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swilling
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| v.冲洗( swill的现在分词 )；猛喝；大口喝；（使）液体流动 | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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ethical
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| adj.伦理的，道德的，合乎道德的 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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illicit
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chapels
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| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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loathed
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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perspire
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| vi.出汗，流汗 | |
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curtly
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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civilize
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| vt.使文明，使开化 (=civilise) | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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