The next morning Mr. Prohack had a unique shock, for he was awakened1 by his wife coming into the bedroom. She held a big piece of cake in her hand. Never before had Mrs. Prohack been known to rise earlier than her husband. Also, the hour was eight-twenty, whereas never before had Mr. Prohack been known, on a working-day, to rise later than eight o'clock. He realised with horror that it would be necessary for him to hurry. Still, he did not jump up. He was not a brilliant sleeper2, and he had had a bad night, which had only begun to be good at the time when as a rule he woke finally for the day. He did not feel very well, despite the fine sensation of riches which rushed reassuringly4 into his arms the moment consciousness returned.
"Arthur," said Mrs. Prohack, who was in her Chinese robe, "do you know that girl hasn't been home all night. Her bed hasn't been slept in!"
"Neither has mine," answered Mr. Prohack. "What girl?"
"Sissie, of course."
"Ah! Sissie!" murmured Mr. Prohack as if he had temporarily forgotten that such a girl existed. "Didn't I tell you last night she mightn't be back?"
"No, you didn't! And you know very well you didn't!"
"Honestly," said Mr. Prohack (meaning "dishonestly" as most people do in similar circumstances), "I thought I did."
"Yes, I do. The death of Nelson wouldn't keep you awake. And now either I shall be late at the office, or else I shall go without my breakfast. I think you might have wakened me."
"What does it matter if you are late for the office?"
Mr. Prohack reflected that all women were alike in a lack of conscience where the public welfare was concerned. He was rich: therefore he was entitled to neglect his duty to the nation! A pleasing argument! Mr. Prohack sat up, and Mrs. Prohack had a full view of his face for the first time that morning.
"Arthur," she exclaimed, absolutely and in an instant forgetting both cake and daughter. "You're ill!"
He thought how agreeable it was to have a wife who was so marvellously absorbed in his being. There was something uncanny, something terrible, in it.
"Oh, no I'm not," he said. "I swear I'm not. I'm very tired, but I'm not ill. Get out of my way."
"But your face is as yellow as a cheese," protested Eve, frightened.
"It may be," said Mr. Prohack.
"You won't get up."
"I shall get up."
Eve snatched her hand-mirror from the dressing-table, and gave it to him with a menacing gesture. He admitted to himself that the appearance of his face was perhaps rather alarming at first sight; but really he did not feel ill; he only felt tired.
"It's nothing. Liver." He made a move to emerge from the bed. "Exercise is all I want."
He saw Eve's lips tremble; he saw tears hanging in her eyes; these phenomena8 induced in him the sensation of having somehow committed a solecism or a murder. He withdrew the move to emerge. She was hurt and desperate. He at once knew himself defeated. He thought how annoying it was to have a woman in the house who was so marvellously absorbed in his being. She was wrong; but her unreasoning desperation triumphed over his calm sagacity.
"Telephone for Dr. Veiga," said Mrs. Prohack to Machin, for whom she had rung. "V-e-i-g-a. Bruton Street. He's in the book. And ask him to come along as soon as he can to see Mr. Prohack."
Now Mr. Prohack had heard of, but never seen, Dr. Veiga. He had more than once listened to the Portuguese9 name on Eve's lips, and the man had been mentioned more than once at the club. Mr. Prohack knew that he was, if not a foreigner, of foreign descent, and hence he did not like him. Mr. Prohack took kindly10 to foreign singers and cooks, but not to foreign doctors. Moreover he had doubts about the fellow's professional qualifications. Therefore he strongly resented his wife's most singular and startling order to Machin, and as soon as Machin had gone he expressed himself:
"Anyway," he said curtly11, after several exchanges, "I shall see my own doctor, if I see any doctor at all—which is doubtful."
Eve's response was to kiss her husband—a sisterly rather than a wifely kiss. And she said, in a sweet, noble voice:
"It's I that want Dr. Veiga's opinion about you, and I must insist on having it. And what's more, you know I've never cared for your friend Dr. Plott. He never seems to be interested. He scarcely listens to what you have to say. He scarcely examines you. He just makes you think your health is of no importance at all, and it doesn't really matter whether you're ill or well, and that you may get better or you mayn't, and that he'll humour you by sending you a bottle of something."
"Stuff!" said Mr. Prohack. "He's a first-rate fellow. No infernal nonsense about him! And what do you know about Veiga? I should like to be informed."
"I met him at Mrs. Cunliff's. He cured her of cancer."
"You told me Mrs. Cunliff hadn't got cancer at all."
"Well, it was Dr. Veiga who found out she hadn't, and stopped the operation just in time. She says he saved her life, and she's quite right. He's wonderful."
Mrs. Prohack was now sitting on the bed. She gazed at her husband's features with acute apprehension12 and yet with persuasive13 grace.
"Oh! Arthur!" she murmured, "you are a worry to me!"
Mr. Prohack, not being an ordinary Englishman, knew himself beaten—for the second time that morning. He dared not trifle with his wife in her earnest, lofty mood.
"I bet you Veiga won't come," said Mr. Prohack.
"How do you know?"
"Because he told me he'd come at once if ever I asked him. He's a perfect dear."
"Oh! I know the sort!" Mr. Prohack said sarcastically16. "And you'll see the fee he'll charge!"
"When it's a question of health money doesn't matter."
"It doesn't matter when you've got the money. You'd never have dreamed of having Veiga this time yesterday. You wouldn't even have sent for old Plott."
Mrs. Prohack merely kissed her husband again, with a kind of ineffable17 resignation. Then Machin came in with her breakfast, and said that Dr. Veiga would be round shortly, and was told to telephone to the Treasury18 that her master was ill in bed.
"No, dearest, egg is the very last thing you should have with that colour."
"Well, if you'd like to know, I don't want any breakfast. Couldn't eat any."
"There you are!" Mrs. Prohack exclaimed triumphantly21. "And yet you swear you aren't ill! That just shows.... It will be quite the best thing for you not to take anything until Dr. Veiga's been."
Mr. Prohack, helpless, examined the ceiling, and decided22 to go to the office in the afternoon. He tried to be unhappy but couldn't. Eve was too funny, too delicious, too exquisitely23 and ingenuously24 "firm," too blissful in having him at her mercy, for him to be unhappy.... To say nothing of the hundred thousand pounds! And he knew that Eve also was secretly revelling25 in the hundred thousand pounds. Dr. Veiga was her first bite at it.
II
Considering that he was well on the way to being a fashionable physician, Dr. Veiga arrived with surprising promptitude. Mr. Prohack wondered what hold Eve had upon him and how she had acquired it. He was prejudiced against the fellow before he came into the bedroom, simply because Eve, on hearing the noise of a car and a doorbell, had hurried downstairs, and a considerable interval26 had elapsed between the doctor's entrance into the house and his appearance at the bedside. Mr. Prohack guessed easily that those two had been plotting against him. Strange how Eve could be passionately27 loyal and basely deceitful simultaneously28! The two-faced creature led the doctor forward with a candid30 smile that partook equally of the smile of a guardian31 angel and the smile of a cherub32. She was an unparalleled comedian33.
Dr. Veiga was fattish and rather shabby; about sixty years of age. He spoke34 perfectly35 correct English with a marked foreign accent. His demeanour was bland15, slightly familiar, philosophical36 and sympathetic. Dr. Plott's eyes would have said: "This is my thirteenth visit this morning, and I've eighteen more to do, and it's all very tedious. Why do you people let yourselves get ill—if it's a fact that you really are ill? I don't think you are, but I'll see." Dr. Veiga's eyes said: "How interesting your case is! You've had no luck this time. We must make the best of things; but also we must face the truth. God knows I don't want to boast, but I expect I can put you right, with the help of your own strong commonsense37."
Mr. Prohack, a connoisseur38 in human nature, noted39 the significances of the Veiga glance, but he suspected that there might also be something histrionic in it. Dr. Veiga examined heart, pulse, tongue. He tapped the torso. He asked many questions. Then he took an instrument out of a leather case which he carried, and fastened a strap40 round Mr. Prohack's forearm and attached it to the instrument, and presently Mr. Prohack could feel the strong pulsations of the blood current in his arm.
"Dear, dear!" said Dr. Veiga. "175. Blood pressure too high. Much too high! Must get that down."
Eve looked as though the end of the world had been announced, and even Mr. Prohack had qualms41. Ten minutes earlier Mr. Prohack had been a strong, healthy man a trifle unwell in a bedroom. He was suddenly transformed into a patient in a nursing-home.
"A little catarrh," said Dr. Veiga.
"I've got no catarrh," said Mr. Prohack, with conviction.
"Yes, yes. Catarrh of the stomach. Probably had it for years. The duodenum is obstructed42. A little accident that easily happens."
He addressed himself as it were privately43 to Mrs. Prohack. "The duodenum is no thicker than that." He indicated the pencil with which he was already writing in a pocket-book. "We'll get it right."
"What is the duodenum?" Mr. Prohack wanted to cry out. But he was too ashamed to ask. It was hardly conceivable that he, so wise, so prudent44, had allowed over forty years to pass in total ignorance of this important item of his own body. He felt himself to be a bag full of disconcerting and dangerous mysteries. Or he might have expressed it that he had been smoking in criminal nonchalance45 for nearly half a century on the top of a powder magazine. He was deeply impressed by the rapidity and assurance of the doctor's diagnosis46. It was wonderful that the queer fellow could in a few minutes single out an obscure organ no bigger than a pencil and say: "There is the ill." The fellow might be a quack47, but sometimes quacks48 were men of genius. His shame and his alarm quickly vanished under the doctor's reassuring3 and bland manner. So much so that when Dr. Veiga had written out a prescription49, Mr. Prohack said lightly:
"I suppose I can get up, though."
"I shall leave that to you. Perhaps if I tell you you'll be lucky if you don't have jaundice...! But I think you will be lucky. I'll try to look in again this afternoon."
These last words staggered both Mr. and Mrs. Prohack.
"I've been expecting this for years. I knew it would come." Mrs. Prohack breathed tragically51.
And even Mr. Prohack reflected aghast:
"My God! Doctor calling twice a day!"
True, "duodenum" was a terrible word.
Mrs. Prohack gazed at Dr. Veiga as at a high priest, and waited to be vouchsafed52 a further message.
"Anyhow, if I find it impossible to call, I'll telephone in any case," said Dr. Veiga.
Mrs. Prohack, like an acolyte54, personally attended the high priest as far as the street, listening with acute attention to his recommendations. When she returned she had put on a carefully bright face. Evidently she had decided, or had been told, that cheerfulness was essential to ward29 off jaundice.
"Now that's what I call a doctor," said she. "To think of your friend Plott...! I've telephoned for a messenger boy to go to the chemist's."
"You're at liberty to call the man a doctor," answered Mr. Prohack. "And I'm at liberty to call him a fine character actor."
"I knew the moment you sat up it was jaundice," said Mrs. Prohack.
"Well," said Mr. Prohack. "I lay you five to one I don't have jaundice. Not that you'd ever pay me if you lost."
Mrs. Prohack said:
"When I saw you were asleep at after eight o'clock this morning I knew there must be something serious. I felt it. However, as the doctor says, if we take it seriously it will soon cease to be serious."
"He's not a bad phrase-maker," said Mr. Prohack.
In the late afternoon Dr. Veiga returned like an old and familiar acquaintance, with his confident air of saying: "We can manage this affair between us—I am almost sure." Mr. Prohack felt worse; and the room, lighted by one shaded lamp, had begun to look rather like a real sick-room. Mr. Prohack, though he mistrusted the foreign accent, the unprofessional appearance, and the adventurous55 manner, was positively56 glad to see his new doctor, and indeed felt that he had need of succour.
"Yes," said Dr. Veiga, after investigation57. "My opinion is that you'll escape jaundice. In four or five days you ought to be as well as you were before the attack. I don't say how well you were before."
Mr. Prohack instantly felt better.
"It will be very awkward if I can't get back to the office early next week," said he.
"I'm sure it will," Dr. Veiga agreed. "And it might be still more awkward if you went back to the office early next week, and then never went any more."
"What do you mean?"
Dr. Veiga smiled understandingly at Mrs. Prohack, as though he and she were the only grown-up persons in the room.
"Look here," he addressed the patient. "I see I shall have to charge you a fee for telling you what you know as well as I do. The fact is I get my living by doing that. How old are you?"
"Forty-six."
"Every year of the war counts double. So you're over fifty. A difficult age. You can run an engine ten hours a day for fifty years. But it's worn; it's second-hand59. And if you keep on running it ten hours a day you'll soon discover how worn it is. But you can run it five hours a day for another twenty years with reasonable safety and efficiency. That's what I wanted to tell you. You aren't the man you were, Mr. Prohack. You've lost the trick of getting rid of your waste products. You say you feel tired. Why do you feel tired? Being tired simply means being clogged60. The moment you feel tired your waste products are beginning to pile up. Look at those finger joints61! Waste products! Friction62! Why don't you sleep well? You say the more tired you are the worse you sleep: and you seem surprised. But you're only surprised because you haven't thought it out. Morpheus himself wouldn't sleep if his body was a mass of friction-producing waste products from top to toe. You aren't a body and soul, Mr. Prohack. You're an engine—I wish you'd remember that and treat yourself like one. The moment you feel tired, stop the engine. If you don't, it'll stop itself. It pretty nearly stopped to-day. You need lubrication too. The best lubricant is a tumbler of hot water four times a day. And don't take coffee, or any salt except what your cook puts into the dishes. Don't try to be cleverer than nature. Don't think the clock is standing58 still. It isn't. If you treat yourself as well as you treat your watch, you'll bury me. If you don't, I shall bury you. All that I've told you I know by heart, because I'm saying it to men of your age every day of my life."
"Don't you think my husband ought to take a long holiday?" Eve put in.
"Well, of course he ought," said Dr. Veiga, opening both mouth and eyes in protest against such a silly question.
"Six months?"
"At least."
"Where ought he to go?"
"Doesn't matter. Portugal, the Riviera, Switzerland. But it's not the season yet for any of these places. If he wants to keep on pleasant terms with nature he'll get out his car and motor about his own country for a month or two. After that he might go to the Continent. But of course he won't. I know these official gentlemen. If you ask them to disturb their routine they'll die first. They really would sooner die. Very natural of course. Routine is their drug."
"My husband will take six months holiday," said Eve quietly. "I suppose you could give the proper certificate? You see in these Government departments...."
"I'll give you the certificate to-morrow."
Mr. Prohack was pretending to be asleep, or at least to be too fatigued64 and indifferent to take notice of this remarkable65 conversation. But as soon as Dr. Veiga had blandly departed under the escort of Eve, he slipped out of bed and cautiously padded to the landing where there was a bookcase.
"Duodenum. Duodenum. Must be something to do with twelve." Then he found a dictionary and brought it back into the bedroom and consulted it. "So it's twelve inches long, is it?" he murmured. He had just time to plunge66 into bed and pitch the dictionary under the bed before his wife returned.
III
She was bending over him.
"Darling!"
He opened his deceiving eyes. Her face was within a foot of his.
"How do you feel now?"
"I feel," said he, "that this is the darnedest swindle that ever was. If I hadn't come into a fortune I should have been back at the office the day after to-morrow. In about eight hours, with the help of that Portuguese mountebank67, you've changed me from a sane68 normal man into a blooming valetudinarian69 who must run all over the earth in search of health. I've got to 'winter' somewhere, have I? You'll see. It's absolutely incredible. It's more like Maskelyne and Cook's than anything I ever came across." He yawned. He knew that it was the disturbed duodenum that caused him to yawn, and that also gave him a dry mouth and a peculiar taste therein.
"Yes, darling," Eve smiled above him the smile of her impenetrable angelicism. "Yes, darling. You're better."
The worst was that she had beaten him on the primary point. He had asserted that he was not ill. She had asserted that he was. She had been right; he wrong. He could not deny, even to himself, that he was ill. Not gravely, only somewhat. But supposing that he was gravely ill! Supposing that old Plott would agree with all that Veiga had said! It was conceivable. Misgivings70 shot through him.
And Eve had him at her sweet mercy. He was helpless. She was easily the stronger. He perceived then, what many a husband dies without having perceived, that his wife had a genuine individual existence and volition71 of her own, that she was more than his complement72, his companion, the mother of his children.
She lowered her head further and gave him a long, fresh, damp kiss. They were very intimate, with an intimacy73 that her enigmatic quality could not impair74. He was annoyed, aggrieved75, rebellious76, but extremely happy in a weak sort of way. He hated and loved her, he despised and adored her, he reprehended77 and admired her—all at once. What specially78 satisfied him was that he had her to himself. The always-impinging children were not there. He liked this novel solitude79 of two.
"Darling, where is Charlie staying in Glasgow?"
"Why?"
"I want to write to him."
"Post's gone, my poor child."
"Then I shall telegraph."
"What about?"
"Never mind."
"I shan't tell you the address unless you promise to show me the telegram. I intend to be master in my own house even if I am dying."
Thus he saw the telegram, which ran: "Father ill in bed what is the best motor car to buy. Love. Mother." The telegram astounded80 Mr. Prohack.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" he cried. Then he laughed. What else was there to do? What else but the philosopher's laugh was adequate to the occasion?
While Eve with her own unrivalled hand was preparing the bedroom for the night, Machin came in with a telegram. Without being asked to do so Eve showed it to the sufferer: "Tell him to buck81 up. Eagle six cylinder82. Everything fine here. Charles."
"I think he might have sent his love," said Eve.
Mr. Prohack no longer attempted to fight against the situation, which was like a net winding83 itself round him.
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收听单词发音
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1
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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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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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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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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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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ingenuously
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| adv.率直地，正直地 | |
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revelling
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| v.作乐( revel的现在分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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comedian
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| n.喜剧演员；滑稽演员 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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commonsense
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| adj.有常识的；明白事理的；注重实际的 | |
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connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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41
qualms
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| n.不安；内疚 | |
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42
obstructed
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| 阻塞( obstruct的过去式和过去分词 )； 堵塞； 阻碍； 阻止 | |
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43
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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46
diagnosis
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| n.诊断，诊断结果，调查分析，判断 | |
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47
quack
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| n.庸医；江湖医生；冒充内行的人；骗子 | |
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48
quacks
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| abbr.quacksalvers 庸医，骗子(16世纪习惯用水银或汞治疗梅毒的人)n.江湖医生( quack的名词复数 )；江湖郎中；（鸭子的）呱呱声v.（鸭子）发出嘎嘎声( quack的第三人称单数 ) | |
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49
prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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52
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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53
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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54
acolyte
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| n.助手，侍僧 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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57
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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58
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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59
second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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60
clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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61
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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62
friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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66
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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mountebank
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| n.江湖郎中；骗子 | |
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68
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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valetudinarian
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| n.病人；健康不佳者 | |
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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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volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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72
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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73
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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impair
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| v.损害，损伤；削弱，减少 | |
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75
aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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reprehended
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| v.斥责，指摘，责备( reprehend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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79
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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80
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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81
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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82
cylinder
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| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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