“Oh no; it is always best to begin school with a vacation. To Longchamps—we!”
I should say at once that through this young man I soon became an amateur of the remarkable5 North-American idioms, of humour and incomparable brevities often more interesting than those evolved by the thirteen or more dialects of my own Naples. Even at our first breakfast I began to catch lucid6 glimpses of the intention in many of his almost incomprehensible statements. I was able, even, to penetrate7 his meaning when he said that although he was “strong for aged8 parent,” he himself had suffered much anguish9 from overwork of the “earnest youth racquette” in his late travels, and now desired to “create considerable trouble for Paris.”
Naturally, I did not wish to begin by antagonizing my pupil—an estrangement10 at the commencement would only lead to his deceiving me, or a continued quarrel, in which case I should be of no service to my kind patron, so that after a strained interval11 I considered it best to surrender.
We went to Longchamps.
That was my first mistake; the second was to yield to him concerning the latter part of his programme; but opposition12 to Mr. Poor, Jr. had a curious effect of inutility. He had not in the least the air of obstinacy,—nothing could have been less like rudeness; he neither frowned not smiled; no, he did not seem even to be insisting; on the contrary, never have I beheld13 a milder countenance14, nor heard a pleasanter voice; yet the young man was so completely baffling in his mysterious way that I considered him unique to my experience.
Thus, when I urged him not to place large wagers15 in the pesage, his whispered reply was strange and simple—“Watch me!” This he conclusively16 said as he deposited another thousand-franc note, which, within a few moments, accrued17 to the French government.
Longchamps was but the beginning of a series of days and nights which wore upon my constitution—not indeed with the intensity18 of mortification which my former conspicuosity had engendered19, yet my sorrows were stringent20. It is true that I had been, since the age of seventeen, no stranger to the gaieties and dissipations afforded by the capitals of Europe; I may say I had exhausted21 these, yet always with some degree of quiet, including intervals22 of repose23. I was tired of all the great foolishnesses of youth, and had thought myself done with them. Now I found myself plunged24 into more uproarious waters than I had ever known I, who had hoped to begin a life of usefulness and peace, was forced to dwell in the midst of a riot, pursuing my extraordinary charge.
There is no need that I should describe those days and nights. They remain in my memory as a confusion of bad music, crowds, motor-cars and champagne25 of which Poor Jr. was a distributing centre. He could never be persuaded to the Louvre, the Carnavalet, or the Luxembourg; in truth, he seldom rose in time to reach the museums, for they usually close at four in the afternoon. Always with the same inscrutable meekness26 of countenance, each night he methodically danced the cake-walk at Maxim’s or one of the Montemarte restaurants, to the cheers of acquaintances of many nationalities, to whom he offered libations with prodigal27 enormity. He carried with him, about the boulevards at night, in the highly powerful car he had hired, large parties of strange people, who would loudly sing airs from the Folie-Rouge28 (to my unhappy shudderings) all the way from the fatiguing29 Bal Bullier to the Cafe’ de Paris, where the waiters soon became affluent30.
And how many of those gaily31 dressed and smiling ladies whose bright eyes meet yours on the veranda32 of the Theatre Marigny were provided with excessive suppers and souvenir fans by the inexhaustible Poor Jr.! He left a trail of pink hundred-franc notes behind him, like a running boy dropping paper in the English game; and he kept showers of gold louis dancing in the air about him, so that when we entered the various cafes or “American bars” a cheer (not vocal33 but to me of perfect audibility) went up from the hungry and thirsty and borrowing, and from the attendants. Ah, how tired I was of it, and how I endeavoured to discover a means to draw him to the museums, and to Notre Dame34 and the Pantheon!
And how many times did I unwillingly35 find myself in the too enlivening company of those pretty supper-girls, and what jokings upon his head-top did the poor bald gentleman not undergo from those same demoiselles with the bright eyes, the wonderful hats, and the fluffy36 dresses!
How often among those gay people did I find myself sadly dreaming of that grey pongee skirt and the beautiful heart that had understood! Should I ever see that lady? Not, I knew, alas37! in the whirl about Poor Jr.! As soon look for a nun38 at the Cafe’ Blanche!
For some reason I came to be persuaded that she had left Paris, that she had gone away; and I pictured her—a little despairingly—on the borders of Lucerne, with the white Alps in the sky above her,—or perhaps listening to the evening songs on the Grand Canal, and I would try to feel the little rocking of her gondola39, making myself dream that I sat at her feet. Or I could see the grey flicker40 of the pongee skirt in the twilight41 distance of cathedral aisles42 with a chant sounding from a chapel43; and, so dreaming, I would start spasmodically, to hear the red-coated orchestra of a cafe’ blare out into “Bedelia,” and awake to the laughter and rouge and blague which that dear pongee had helped me for a moment to forget!
To all places, Poor Jr., though never unkindly, dragged me with him, even to make the balloon ascent44 at the Porte Maillot on a windy evening. Without embarrassment45 I confess that I was terrified, that I clung to the ropes with a clutch which frayed46 my gloves, while Poor Jr. leaned back against the side of the basket and gazed upward at the great swaying ball, with his hands in his pockets, humming the strange ballad47 that was his favourite musical composition:
“The prettiest girl I ever saw
In that horrifying49 basket, scrambling50 for a foothold while it swung through arcs that were gulfs, I believed that my sorrows approached a sudden conclusion, but finding myself again upon the secure earth, I decided51 to come to an understanding with the young man.
Accordingly, on the following morning, I entered his apartment and addresses myself to Poor Jr. as severely52 as I could (for, truthfully, in all his follies53 I had found no ugliness in his spirit—only a good-natured and inscrutable desire of wild amusement) reminding him of the authority his father had deputed to me, and having the venturesomeness to hint that the son should show some respect to my superior age.
To my consternation54 he replied by inquiring if I had shaved my head as yet that morning. I could only drop in a chair, stammering55 to know what he meant.
“Didn’t you suppose I knew?” he asked, elevating himself slightly on his elbow from the pillow. “Three weeks ago I left my aged parent in London and ran over here for a day. I saw you at the Cafe’ de la Paix, and even then I knew that it was shaved, not naturally bald. When you came here I recognized you like a shot, and that was why I was glad to accept you as a guardian56. I’ve enjoyed myself considerably57 of late, and you’ve been the best part of it,—I think you are a wonderation! I wouldn’t have any other governess for the world, but you surpass the orchestra when you beg me to respect your years! I will bet you four dollars to a lead franc piece that you are younger than I am!”
Imagine the completeness of my dismay! Although he spoke58 in tones the most genial59, and without unkindness, I felt myself a man of tatters before him, ashamed to have him know my sorry secret, hopeless to see all chance of authority over him gone at once, and with it my opportunity to earn a salary so generous, for if I could continue to be but an amusement to him and only part of his deception60 of Lambert R. Poor, my sense of honour must be fit for the guillotine indeed.
I had a little struggle with myself, and I think I must have wiped some amounts of the cold perspiration61 from my absurd head before I was able to make an answer. It may be seen what a coward I was, and how I feared to begin again that search for employment. At last, however, I was in self-control, so that I might speak without being afraid that my voice would shake.
“I am sorry,” I said. “It seemed to me that my deception would not cause any harm, and that I might be useful in spite of it—enough to earn my living. It was on account of my being very poor; and there are two little children I must take care of.—Well, at least, it is over now. I have had great shame, but I must not have greater.”
“What do you mean?” he asked me rather sharply.
“I will leave immediately,” I said, going to the door. “Since I am no more than a joke, I can be of no service to your father or to you; but you must not think that I am so unreasonable62 as to be angry with you. A man whom you have beheld reduced to what I was, at the Cafe’ de la Paix, is surely a joke to the whole world! I will write to your father before I leave the hotel and explain that I feel myself unqualified—”
“You’re going to write to him why you give it up!” he exclaimed.
“I shall make no report of espionage,” I answered, with, perhaps, some bitterness, “and I will leave the letter for you to read and to send, of yourself. It shall only tell him that as a man of honour I cannot keep a position for which I have no qualification.”
I was going to open the door, bidding him adieu, when he called out to me.
“Look here!” he said, and he jumped out of bed in his pajamas63 and came quickly, and held out his hand. “Look here, Ansolini, don’t take it that way. I know you’ve had pretty hard times, and if you’ll stay, I’ll get good. I’ll go to the Louvre with you this afternoon; we’ll dine at one of the Duval restaurants, and go to that new religious tragedy afterwards. If you like, we’ll leave Paris to-morrow. There’s a little too much movement here, maybe. For God’s sake, let your hair grow, and we’ll go down to Italy and study bones and ruins and delight the aged parent!—It’s all right, isn’t it?”
I shook the hand of that kind Poor Jr. with a feeling in my heart that kept me from saying how greatly I thanked him—and I was sure that I could do anything for him in the world!
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1
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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honourably
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| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
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inciting
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| 刺激的，煽动的 | |
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cascade
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| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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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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lucid
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| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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estrangement
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| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
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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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12
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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wagers
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| n.赌注，用钱打赌( wager的名词复数 )v.在（某物）上赌钱，打赌( wager的第三人称单数 )；保证，担保 | |
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16
conclusively
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| adv.令人信服地，确凿地 | |
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accrued
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| adj.权责已发生的v.增加( accrue的过去式和过去分词 )；（通过自然增长）产生；获得；（使钱款、债务）积累 | |
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18
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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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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20
stringent
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| adj.严厉的；令人信服的；银根紧的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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23
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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affluent
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| adj.富裕的，富有的，丰富的，富饶的 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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gondola
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| n.威尼斯的平底轻舟；飞船的吊船 | |
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40
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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41
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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42
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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43
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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44
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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45
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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46
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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48
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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49
horrifying
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| a.令人震惊的，使人毛骨悚然的 | |
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50
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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51
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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52
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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53
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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54
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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55
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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56
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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57
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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58
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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59
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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60
deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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61
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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62
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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pajamas
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| n.睡衣裤 | |
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