"You're cozy5 here"—he put it as an excuse for lingering, for I hadn't asked him to have a chair—"you hardly feel the wind. On my side there's a trail of snow half across the room where the wind whips it in between the casings."
Though he had come ostensibly to offer me a neighbourly attention, he was plainly in need of it himself; it was his last night at the Varieté and, between the storm and the depression of having nothing to turn to, he was coming down with a cold. I had him into my one easy chair and suggested tea.
"I hardly slept any last night," he apologized over his second cup, "the shutter3 clacks so." I could hear it now like the stroke of desolation.
That night when I heard him stamping off the snow in the hall, I had a hot drink for him, but when I saw him, by the rakish light of the hall lamp, wringing6 his hands with the cold before taking it, I insisted he should come on into my still warm room. I had to turn back first to light my own lamp and, in respect to my being in my dressing7 gown with my hair in two braids, to slip into my bedroom and experience, as I looked back at him through the crack in the door, the kind of softening8 a woman has toward a man she has made comfortable. The light of my lamp, which was shaded for reading, like a miniature calcium9, brought out for me the frayed10 edge of his overcoat and all the waste and misuse11 of him, the kind of faded appeal that sort of man has for a woman; forlorn as he was, as he put the bowl back on the table, I was so much more forlorn myself that I was glad to have been femininely of use to him.
Pauline wrote me to come out and stay with her during the protracted12 cold spell, but owing to the difficulty in delivery, the invitation failed to reach me until the severity of the weather was abated13. In any case I was still too sore at what seemed to me the betrayal of my long confidence, to have been willing to have subjected myself to any reminders14 of it. And whatever kindness Pauline meant, it could hardly have done so much for me as Leon Griffin did by just needing me. It transpired15 that he had no stove in his room, and the heat from the register for which we were definitely charged in the rent, scarcely modified the edge of the cold. For the next two or three days we spent much of the time huddled16 over my stove. Snow ceased to fall on the second day, and nothing moved in our view except now and then the surface of it was flung up by the wind, falling again fountain-Pwise into the waste of the untrampled housetops that stretched from my window to the icy flat of the lake darkening under a dour17 horizon. Somehow, though I had never been willing to confess to my friends how poor I was, I made no bones of it with Griff, as I had heard Cecelia call him, a name that seemed somehow to suit the inconsequential nature of our relation better than his proper title. We frankly18 pooled our funds in the matter of food, which one or another of us slipped out to buy, and cooked on my stove. I took an interest in preparing it, such as I hadn't since the times when I imagined I was helping19 Tommy on the way to growing rich, and when the room was full of a warm savoury smell and the table pulled out from the wall to make it serve for two, we felt, for the time, restored to the graciousness of living. We fell back on the uses of domesticity, by association providing us with a sense of life going on in orderliness and stability. It came out for me in these moments that it is after all life, that Art needs rather than feeling, and that, to a woman of my capacity, was to be supplied not by innocuous intrigues20 like Jerry's but by the normal procedure of living. I believe I felt myself rather of a better stripe, to find it so in the domestic proceeding21, though I do not really know that my necessity was any whit22 superior to Miss Filette's, except in offering the minimum possibility of making anybody unhappy by it. But because I knew my friends would think it ridiculous that I could lay hold of power again by so inconsiderable a handle as Leon Griffin, I suffered a corroding23 resentment24. Griffin was getting up a new act for himself, and evenings as I helped him with it, I felt a faint stirring of creative power. When he had finished, I would take the shade off the lamp and render scenes for him from my favourite Elizabethan drama; and in the face of his unqualified admiration25 for me, I could almost act.
Toward the end of the week as the cold abated, Mr. Griffin asked me to see a play in which some of his friends were playing; and Jerry being prodigal26 of favours, I responded with an invitation to "The Futurist." I hadn't mentioned Griff to Sarah, I never more than mentioned him to any of my friends, but I saw no reason why I should not speak of them to him, especially when they were so much upon the public tongue as Sarah was just then.
"Croyden?" he said; "isn't that an unusual name?" He appeared to be puzzling over it. "I seem to remember a town somewhere by that name."
"In New York," I told him. I was on the point of telling him how Sarah came by it, but an impulse of discretion27 saved me. I had seen "The Futurist" so many times now, that, once at the theatre, I occupied myself with looking at the audience and took no sort of notice of my escort until after Sarah's entrance near the close of the first act.
"Well?" I laid myself open to compliments for my friend. I was startled by what I saw when I looked at him. He had shrunk away into the corner of his seat farthest from me, like a man whose garment had fallen from him unawares. The stark28 naked soul of him fed visibly upon her bodily perfection; Sarah's beauty took men like that sometimes when they were able to see it—there were those who thought her merely nice-looking. I could see his tongue moving about stealthily to wet his dry lips. I couldn't bear to look at him like that; it seemed a pitiful thing for a man to ache so with the beauty of a woman he had long ceased to deserve; it was as though he had laid bare some secret ache in me.
Coming out of the theatre he surprised me with a knowledge of Sarah's affairs. He knew that she had begun with O'Farrell.
"I played with him myself," he admitted; "that was before Miss—Miss——"
"Croyden," I supplied; "that was the town she came from; I shouldn't have told you except that you seem to know."
"I was expecting another name. Wasn't she—wasn't she married once? A fellow by the name of Lawrence."
"Oh, well, you may call it married. He was a cur."
"You can't tell me anything about him worse than I know myself." From the earnestness of his tone I judged that he had suffered something at the hands of Lawrence. "But I'll say this for him, he didn't stay with the other woman; she followed him and found him, but he wouldn't stay with her."
"I don't see that that proves anything except that he was the greater scoundrel. The other woman was his wife."
"It proves that he loved Miss Croyden best—that he couldn't bear the other woman after her." I thought it was no use matching ethical29 ideals with him and I let the matter drop. It came back to me next day that if he had been with O'Farrell in Lawrence's time, he might have known something of the other Shamrocks. I meant to ask him about it in the morning, but put it off as I observed that the recollection of it seemed to have stirred him past the point of being able to sleep. He was pale in the morning, and the rings under his eyes stood out plainly; he had the whipped look of a man who has been so long accused of misdemeanour that he comes at last to believe he has done it. I could see the impulse to confess hovering30 over him, and the hope that I might find in his misbehaviours the excusing clue which he was vaguely31 aware must be there, but couldn't himself lay hands on. I suppose souls in the Pit must have movements like that—seeking in one another the extenuations they can't admit to themselves.
We didn't, however, strike the note of confidence until it was evening. Griffin kept up the form of looking for an engagement, which occupied his morning hours, and in the afternoon Jerry came in to see how I had come through the cold spell, and to win my interest with his wife to consent to his going as far as St. Louis with "The Futurist." I forget what reasons he had for thinking it advisable, except that they were all more or less complicated with Miss Filette.
"But, heavens, Jerry, haven't you ever heard of the freemasonry of women? How can you think my sympathies wouldn't be with your wife? Especially in her condition."
"It's only for a week; and, you know, except for her fussing, she is perfectly32 well. And look here, Olivia, you know exactly why I have to have—other things; why I can't just settle down to being—the plain head of the family." His tone was accusing.
"I know why you think you have to. Honest, Jerry, is it so imperative33 as all that?"
"Honest to God, Olivia, unless I'm ... interested ... I can't write a word." His glance travelling over my dull little room and makeshift furniture, the cheap kerosene34 lamp, the broken hinge of the stove. "You ought to know," he drove it home to me. I felt myself involved by my toleration of Griffin in a queer kind of complicity.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Tell her you think it is to the advantage of the play for me to be there in St. Louis for the opening. It's always good for an interview, and that's advertising35." After all I suppose I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't found his wife in a wrapper at four o'clock in the afternoon, when I went out there. If she wouldn't make any better fight for herself, who was I to fight for her? And as Jerry said, for him to be with the play, meant advertising.
I talked it over with Griffin that evening, as we sat humped over my tiny stove before the lamps were lighted. Outside we could see the roofs huddling36 together with the cold, and far beyond, the thin line of the lake beaten white with the wind in a fury of self-tormenting. It made me think of poor little Mrs. Gerald under the lash37 of her husband's vagaries38.
"I can't help think that she'd feel it less if she made less fuss about it," I protested. Griffin shook his head.
"It's a mercy she can do that; it's when you can't do anything it eats into you."
I reflected. "There was a woman I knew who looked like that. O'Farrell's leading lady; she was jealous and there was nothing she could do. She looked gnawed39 upon!"
"Miss Dean, you mean?"
"I forgot you said that you knew her." I wanted immensely to know how he came to be mixed up with her. "She was jealous of me, but there was no cause. How well did you know her?"
"I ... she ... I was married to her." His face was mottled with embarrassment40; it occurred to me that his confusion must have been for his complicity in the fact of their not being married now, but he set me right. "I oughtn't to have told it on her, I suppose. She married me to go on the stage. I was boarding at her mother's and I couldn't have afforded to marry unless she had. You don't know how handsome she was. I knew she couldn't act.... I can't myself, but I know it when I see it. Her father had been an actor of a sort; he had taught her things, and I thought I could pull her along."
"She has got on." I let the fact stand for all it was worth.
"She had O'Farrell. Was it on his account you separated?"
"Long before that. You see she could handle the managers in her own interest, but she didn't know what to do with me. So I—I got out of her way." Griffin's clothes were too loose for him, and his hair, which wanted trimming, disposed itself in what came perilously43 near to being ringlets, accentuating44 the effect of his having been shrivelled, and shrunk within the mark of his capacity. There was a certain shame about him as he made this admission, that made me feel that though to leave his wife free to seek her own sort of success had been a generous thing to do, it was all he could do; his moral nature had suffered an incurable45 strain.
"Griff, did they tell you when you were young, that love was all bound up with what you should do in the world and what you could get for it?"
"They never told me anything; I had to find it out."
"Jerry too; he thought he was going to have a graceful46, docile47 creature to keep him in a perpetual state of maleness. I should have thought you'd have left the stage after that," I said, reverting48 to the personal instance.
"I ought to have, but somehow I kept feeling her; even when I wasn't thinking of her I could feel her somewhere pulling me. It was like living in the house where some one has died, and you keep thinking they're just in the next room and you don't want to go away for fear you'll lose them altogether."
"I understand."
The afternoon light had withdrawn49 into the bleak50 sky without illuminating51 it. I threw open the stove for the sake of the ruddy light, and the intimacy52 of our sitting there drew me on to counter confession53.
"It's like that with me all the time," I said, "only there hasn't really been anybody. Sarah says there doesn't have to be anybody; that we only think so because we have felt it that way once. She thinks it is just ... Personality ... whatever there is that we act to."
"Well, I know you have to have it, anyway you can get it."
"O'Farrell used to call it feeling your job. I wonder where he is now." So the talk drifted off to the perpetual professionalism of the unsuccessful, to incidents of rehearsals54 and engagements. I believe it would have been good for me to have run my mind in new pastures, but there was nobody to open the gates for me.
I said as much to Sarah the very next time I saw her; it seemed a way of getting at what I hadn't yet told her, that I was within a week or two of the end of my means. I had the best of reasons for not calling my case to her attention, in the readiness with which she offered herself to my necessity.
"You must go to New York of course; I've three hundred dollars, and I could send you something every month——" I cut her off absolutely.
"I'd rather try Cecelia Brune's plan first," I assured her.
"Not while you have me;" she was firm with me. "Besides, you don't really know that Cecelia——"
"Didn't buy her diamond sunburst on thirty-five a week!" I told her all that Griffin had said. Sarah looked worried.
"I'll tell you about the diamonds. About a year ago, while you were with the Hardings, she got into trouble. Oh, she loved him as much as she was able! He gave her the diamonds; but Cecelia cared. And then when the trouble came, he deserted55 her. That's what Cecelia couldn't understand. She had never given anything before, and she didn't realize that that had been her chief advantage. It gave her a scare."
But in spite of Sarah's confidence in Cecelia's bitter experience keeping her straight, I could see that she had taken what Griffin had told me to heart. A day or two later she referred to the matter again.
"If she goes over the line once, and doesn't have to pay for it, she is lost." She was standing56 at my window looking out over the roofs and chimneys cased in ice, and she might, for all the mark her profession has left on her, been looking across the pasture bars. I was irritated at her detachment, and her interest, in the face of my own problem, in an affair so unrelated as Cecelia Brune's.
"Why do you care so much?"
"You'd care too, if you had seen as much of her; it's like watching a drowning man: you don't stop to ask if he's worth it before you plunge57 in!"
"I can't swim myself," I protested.
I didn't want to be dragged in, rescuing Cecelia; I had myself to save and wasn't sure I could do it. It was after this talk, however, that Griff, who still hung about the Varieté from habit, told me that Sarah had fallen into the way of stopping to pick up Cecelia on her way home from her own theatre. He thought it a futile58 performance.
"Nothing can stop that kind; they don't always know it, but that's what draws them to the stage in the first place. It's a kind of what-do-you-call-it, going back to the thing they were a long time ago."
"Atavism," I supplied; I thought it very likely. All the centuries of bringing women up to be toys must have had its fruit somehow. Cecelia was made to be played with; she wasn't serviceable for anything else. And what was more, I didn't care to be identified with her even in the Christian59 attitude of a rescuer. I said as much to Sarah one evening about a week later, when I had gone with Jerry to give my opinion of some changes in the cast, preparatory to going on the road with his play, and in the overflow60 of his satisfaction at the way the audience rose to them, he had asked me to go to supper with him. Then as Sarah joined us and the spirit of the crowd caught him, pouring along the street, bright almost as by day and with the added brightness of evening garments, Jerry, always open to the infection of the holiday mood, proposed that for once we stretch a point by going to supper at Reeves's. Sarah and I demurred61 as women will at such a proposal from a man whose family exigencies62 are known to them, but Sarah found a prohibitory objection in a promise she professed63 to have made, to go around for Cecelia on her way home, which Jerry promptly64 quashed by including her in the invitation. I protested.
"Supper at Reeves's is quite enough of an adventure for one time. Cecelia paints."
"Not really," Sarah protested. "It's only that she uses so little make-up that she doesn't think it necessary to take it off."
"All the better," insisted Jerry. "I never did take supper at Reeves's with a painted lady, and I'm told it is quite one of the things to do."
I let it pass rather than spoil his high mood. It was not more than three blocks to the Varieté, and at the stage door Sarah insisted on getting out herself.
"Why did you let her?" I protested to Jerry.
"Because it will please her, and Miss Brune will be gone; Sarah doesn't realize how late we are." I could see her returning through the fogged glass of the stage door.
"Cecelia's gone! The man said she was going to Reeves's too; we can pick her up there."
"Oh," I objected, "I can stand Cecelia, but I draw the line at her gentleman friends. She didn't go there alone, I fancy."
"We'll have a look at him, anyway, before we give him the glad hand," Jerry temporized65.
The cab discharged us into the press of black-coated men and bright-gowned women that at that hour poured steadily66 into the anteroom of Reeves's, which was level with the pavement, divided from it by a screen of plate glass and palms. Beyond that and raised by a few steps, was the palm room, flanked on either side by dressing rooms; and opening out back, the great revolving67 doors, muffled68 with crimson69 curtains, that received the guests and sorted them like a hopper, according to the degree of their resistance to the particular allurements70 of Reeves's. There was a sleek71, satin-suited attendant who swung the leaves of the door at just the right angle that inducted you to the public café, or to the corridor that led to private rooms, and was famed never to have made a mistake. Jerry dared us hilariously72 as we went up the steps, to put his discrimination to the test.
"You and I alone then; Olivia's black dress would give us away," Sarah insisted.
"I want you to stay here and watch for Cecelia," she whispered to me; "I must see her; I must."
Her going on with Jerry would give her an opportunity to look through the café; if Cecelia hadn't already arrived, I would be sure to see her come in with the crowd that broke against the bank of palms into two streams of bright and dark, proceeding to the dressing rooms, and returning by twos and threes to be swallowed up by the hopper turning half unseen behind its velvet73 curtains. I slipped behind a group of bright-gowned women waiting for their escorts under the palms. I was hypnotized by the movement and the glitter; I believe I forgot what I was looking for; and all at once she was before me.
The theatrical74 quality of Cecelia's prettiness and the length of her plumes75 would have picked her out anywhere even without the blackened rim42 of the eyelids76 and the air she had always of having just stepped into the spot light.
She had stationed herself, with her professional instinct for effect, just under the Australian fern tree, waiting for her escort, and in the moment it took me to gather myself together he joined her. I had come up behind Cecelia and was brought face to face with him; it wasn't until he had wheeled into step with her that he saw me and his face went mottled all at once and settled to a slow purple. Cecelia was magnificent.
"Oh, you here! How de do!" She slipped her hand under her escort's arm and sailed out with him. I caught the glint of the brass-bound door under the curtains. I don't know how long I stood staring before I started after her, to be met by the leaves of the revolving door which, reversing its motion, projected Sarah and Jerry into the palm room beside me.
"I have been all over the café——" Sarah began.
"Didn't you meet her?"
"In the café? I was just telling you ..."
"No, no. In the corridor, just now; they went through."
"But they couldn't," urged Sarah. "I was standing at the door of the café with Jerry ..." The truth of the situation began to dawn on her.
"There's such a crowd, of course you missed her." Jerry began to build up a probability by which we could sustain Sarah through the supper which followed. We all of us talked a great deal as people will when they are anxious not to talk of a particular thing. When we were in the dressing room again, putting on our wraps, Sarah turned on me.
"She wasn't in the café at all," she declared.
"I never said she was. I said she went through into the corridor." In the silence I could feel Cecelia dropping into the pit.
"Did you know the man?"
I nodded. "It was Henry Mills!"
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收听单词发音
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1
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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shutter
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| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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calcium
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| n.钙(化学符号Ca) | |
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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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misuse
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| n.误用，滥用；vt.误用，滥用 | |
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protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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reminders
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| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
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transpired
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| （事实，秘密等）被人知道( transpire的过去式和过去分词 )； 泄露； 显露； 发生 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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dour
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| adj.冷酷的，严厉的；（岩石）嶙峋的；顽强不屈 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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corroding
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| 使腐蚀，侵蚀( corrode的现在分词 ) | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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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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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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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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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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huddling
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| n. 杂乱一团, 混乱, 拥挤 v. 推挤, 乱堆, 草率了事 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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accentuating
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| v.重读( accentuate的现在分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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reverting
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| 恢复( revert的现在分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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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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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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demurred
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| v.表示异议，反对( demur的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exigencies
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| n.急切需要 | |
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professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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temporized
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| v.敷衍( temporize的过去式和过去分词 )；拖延；顺应时势；暂时同意 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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allurements
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| n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 )；吸引；诱惑物；有诱惑力的事物 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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hilariously
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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