“A dog turn,” he answered, and thereby2 explained; for it was his practice to leave a theatre during the period of the performance of an animal-act.
“Of course,” she said, then added: “But it’s a singing dog. A dog Caruso. And it points out that there is no one on the stage with the dog. Let us stay for once, and see how he compares with Jerry.”
“But it has the stage to itself,” Villa urged. “Besides, if it is painful, then we can go out. I’ll go out with you. But I just would like to see how much better Jerry sings than does he. And it says an Irish terrier, too.”
So Harley Kennan remained. The two burnt-cork comedians7 finished their turn and their three encores, and the curtain behind them went up on a full set of an empty stage. A rough-coated Irish terrier entered at a sedate8 walk, sedately9 walked forward to the centre, nearly to the footlights, and faced the leader of the orchestra. As the programme had stated, he had the stage to himself.
The orchestra played the opening strains of “Sweet Bye and Bye.” The dog yawned and sat down. But the orchestra was thoroughly10 instructed to play the opening strains over and over, until the dog responded, and then to follow on with him. By the third time, the dog opened his mouth and began. It was not a mere11 howling. For that matter, it was too mellow12 to be classified as a howl at all. Nor was it merely rhythmic13. The notes the dog sang were of the air, and they were correct.
But Villa Kennan scarcely heard.
“He has Jerry beaten a mile,” Harley muttered to her.
“Listen,” she replied, in tense whispers. “Did you ever see that dog before?”
Harley shook his head.
“You have seen him before,” she insisted. “Look at that crinkled ear. Think! Think back! Remember!”
Still her husband shook his head.
“Remember the Solomons,” she pressed. “Remember the Ariel. Remember when we came back from Malaita, where we picked Jerry up, to Tulagi, that he had a brother there, a nigger-chaser on a schooner14.”
“And his name was Michael—go on.”
“And he had that self-same crinkled ear,” she hurried. “And he was rough-coated. And he was full brother to Jerry. And their father and mother were Terrence and Biddy of Meringe. And Jerry is our Sing Song Silly. And this dog sings. And he has a crinkled ear. And his name is Michael.”
“Impossible,” said Harley.
“It is when the impossible comes true that life proves worth while,” she retorted. “And this is one of those worth-whiles of impossibles. I know it.”
Still the man of him said impossible, and still the woman of her insisted that this was an impossible come true. By this time the dog on the stage was singing “God Save the King.”
“That shows I am right,” Villa contended. “No American, in America, would teach a dog ‘God Save the King.’ An Englishman originally owned that dog and taught it. The Solomons are British.”
“That’s a far cry,” he smiled. “But what gets me is that ear. I remember it now. I remember the day when we were on the beach at Tulagi with Jerry, and when his brother came ashore15 from the Eugénie in a whaleboat. And his brother had that self-same, loppy, crinkled ear.”
“And more,” Villa argued. “How many singing dogs have we ever known! Only one—Jerry. Evidently such a type occurs rarely. The same family would more likely produce similar types than different families. The family of Terrence and Biddy produced Jerry. And this is Michael.”
“He was rough-coated, along with a crinkly ear,” Harley meditated16 back. “I see him distinctly as he stood up in the bow of the whaleboat and as he ran along the beach side by side with Jerry.”
“It was their trick, and the trick of Terrence and Biddy before them,” he agreed. “But it’s a far cry from the Solomons to the United States.”
“Jerry is such a far cry,” she replied. “And if Jerry won from the Solomons to California, then is there anything more remarkable18 in Michael so winning?—Oh, listen!”
For the dog on the stage, now responding to its one encore, was singing “Home, Sweet Home.” This finished, Jacob Henderson, to tumultuous applause, came on the stage from the wings and joined the dog in bowing. Villa and Harley sat in silence for a moment. Then Villa said, apropos20 of nothing:
“I have been sitting here and feeling very grateful for one particular thing.”
He waited.
“It is that we are so abominably21 wealthy,” she concluded.
“Which means that you want the dog, must have him, and are going to got him, just because I can afford to do it for you,” he teased.
“Because you can’t afford not to,” she answered. “You must know he is Jerry’s brother. At least, you must have a sneaking22 suspicion . . . ?”
“I have,” he nodded. “The thing that can’t sometimes does, and there is a chance that this may be one of those times. Of course, it isn’t Michael; but, on the other hand, what’s to prevent it from being Michael? Let us go behind and find out.”
* * * * *
“More agents of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” was Jacob Henderson’s thought, as the man and woman, accompanied by the manager of the theatre, were shown into his tiny dressing-room. Michael, on a chair and half asleep, took no notice of them. While Harley talked with Henderson, Villa investigated Michael; and Michael scarcely opened his eyes ere he closed them again. Too sour on the human world, and too glum23 in his own soured nature, he was anything save his old courtly self to chance humans who broke in upon him to pat his head, and say silly things, and go their way never to be seen by him again.
Villa Kennan, with a pang24 of disappointment at such rebuff, forwent25 her overtures26 for the moment, and listened to what tale Jacob Henderson could tell of his dog. Harry27 Del Mar19, a trained-animal man, had picked the dog up somewhere on the Pacific Coast, most probably in San Francisco, she learned; but, having taken the dog east with him, Harry Del Mar had died by accident in New York before telling anybody anything about the animal. That was all, except that Henderson had paid two thousand dollars to one Harris Collins, and had found the investment the finest he had ever made.
Villa turned back to the dog.
“Michael,” she called, caressingly28, almost in a whisper.
“Michael,” she repeated.
This time raising his head, the eyes open and the ears stiffly erect30, Michael looked at her. Not since on the beach at Tulagi had he heard that name uttered. Across the years and the seas the word came to him out of the past. Its effect was electrical, for on the instant all the connotations of “Michael” flooded his consciousness. He saw again Captain Kellar, of the Eugénie, who had last called him it, and Mister Haggin, and Derby, and Bob of Meringe Plantation31, and Biddy and Terrence, and, not least among these shades of the vanished past, his brother Jerry.
But was it the vanished past? The name which had ceased for years, had come back. It had entered the room along with this man and woman. All this he did not reason; but indubitably, as if he had so reasoned, he acted upon it.
He jumped from the chair and ran to the woman. He smelled her hand, and smelled her as she patted him. Then, as he recognized her, he went wild. He sprang away, dashing around and around the room, sniffing32 under the washstand and smelling out the corners. As in a frenzy33 he was back to the woman, whimpering eagerly as she strove to pet him. The next moment, stiff in a frenzy, he was away again, scurrying34 about the room and still whimpering.
Jacob Henderson looked on with mild disapproval35.
“He never cuts up that way,” he said. “He is a very quiet dog. Maybe it is a fit he is going to have, though he never has fits.”
No one understood, not even Villa Kennan. But Michael understood. He was looking for that vanished world which had rushed back upon him at sound of his old-time name. If this name could come to him out of the Nothingness, as this woman had whom once he had seen treading the beach at Tulagi, then could all other things of Tulagi and the Nothingness come to him. As she was there, before him in the living flesh, uttering his name, so might Captain Kellar, and Mister Haggin, and Jerry be there, somewhere in the very room or just outside the door.
He ran to the door, whimpering as he scratched at it.
“Maybe he thinks there is something outside,” said Jacob Henderson, opening the door for him.
And Michael did so think. As a matter of course, through that open door, he was prepared to have the South-Pacific Ocean flow in, bearing on its bosom36 schooners37 and ships, islands and reefs, and all men and animals and things he once had known and still remembered.
But no past flowed in through the door. Outside was the usual present. He came back dejectedly to the woman, who still called him Michael as she petted him. She, at any rate, was real. Next he carefully smelled and identified the man with the beach of Tulagi and the deck of the Ariel, and again his excitement began to mount.
“Oh, Harley, I know it is he!” Villa cried. “Can’t you test him? Can’t you prove him?”
“But how?” Harley pondered. “He seems to recognize his name. It excites him. And though he never knew us very well, he seems to remember us and to be excited by us, too. If only he could talk . . . ”
“Oh, talk! Talk!” Villa pleaded with Michael, catching38 both sides of his head and jaws39 in her hands and swaying him back and forth40.
“Be careful, madam,” Jacob Henderson warned. “He is a very sour dog; and he don’t let people take such liberties.”
“He does me,” she laughed, half-hysterically. “Because he knows me. . . . Harley!” She broke off as the great idea dawned on her. “I have a test. Listen! Remember, Jerry was a nigger-chaser before we got him. And Michael was a nigger-chaser. You talk in bêche-de-mer. Appear angry with some black boy, and see how it will affect him.”
“I’ll have to remember hard to resurrect any bêche-de-mer,” Harley said, nodding approval of the suggestion.
“At the same time I’ll distract him,” she rushed on.
Sitting down and bending forward to Michael so that his head was buried in her arms and breast, she began swaying him and crooning to him as was her wont41 with Jerry. Nor did he resent the liberty she took, and, like Jerry, he yielded to her crooning and softly began to croon with her. She signalled Harley with her eyes.
“My word!” he began in tones of wrath42. “What name you fella boy stop ’m along this fella place? You make ’m me cross along you any amount!”
And at the words Michael bristled43, dragged himself clear of the woman’s detaining hands, and, with a snarl44, whirled about to get a look at the black boy who must have just then entered the room and aroused the white god’s ire. But there was no black boy. He looked on, still bristling45, to the door. Harley transferred his own gaze to the door, and Michael knew, beyond all doubt, that outside the door was standing46 a Solomons nigger.
“Hey! Michael!” Harley shouted. “Chase ’m that black fella boy overside!”
With a roaring snarl, Michael flung himself at the door. Such was the fury and weight of his onslaught that the latch47 flew loose and the door swung open. The emptiness of the space which he had expected to see occupied, was appalling48, and he shrank down, sick and dizzy with the baffling apparitional49 past that thus vexed50 his consciousness.
“And now,” said Harley to Jacob Henderson, “we will talk business . . . ”
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1
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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7
comedians
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| n.喜剧演员，丑角( comedian的名词复数 ) | |
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8
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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9
sedately
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| adv.镇静地，安详地 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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11
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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13
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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14
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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16
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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17
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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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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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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apropos
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| adv.恰好地；adj.恰当的；关于 | |
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21
abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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glum
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| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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25
forwent
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| v.没有也行，放弃( forgo的过去式 ) | |
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overtures
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| n.主动的表示，提议；（向某人做出的）友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 )；（歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的）序曲，前奏曲 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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29
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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32
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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33
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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34
scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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schooners
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| n.（有两个以上桅杆的）纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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40
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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41
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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42
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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43
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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44
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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45
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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46
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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47
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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48
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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49
apparitional
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50
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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