“Marianna!”
It was the austere1 voice of Carolina, and a love scene behind the second-cabin smoking room came to an abrupt2 close. Though it was not the first stolen meeting with Armando that she had broken up during the voyage, Carolina had never told the girl that she must shun3 other suitors because of a husband already chosen for her in New York. Profiting by her experience as a meddler4 in the love affairs of others, she had deemed best to conceal5 her matrimonial plans for Casa Di Bello until it should be too late for Marianna to defy her wishes. Not until the final day of the passage, therefore, did she let out the cat. Then she pictured[Pg 229] to the girl the splendid future prepared for her as the wife of Signor Di Bello, the merchant prince of Mulberry.
“But I am promised to Armando,” said Marianna. “How can I marry any one else?”
“Bah! A poor devil whom you would have to feed. You will never see him again. In America he will soon forget you and find another amorosa. With my brother for a husband you will be a signora—as fine a lady as any in America. We have many pigs in Mulberry. With this good-for-naught sculptor6 you would soon be one of them.”
“He is as good as any one else—even your brother. Anyhow, I love him.”
The hour had come for Carolina to assert her power. “Love him!” she snapped. “What if you do? Will love put meat in your soup? You are matta [crazy]. Perhaps I shall find a way to give you reason. Do you think you would like to be homeless in that?”
[Pg 230]
The ship was nearing the Battery, and Carolina pointed7 toward the New York shore. With deep satisfaction she perceived that the girl’s spirit quailed8 before the awful vastness of the city. Presently Marianna caught sight of Armando coming from the companion way with his poor little valise, which she knew contained all his worldly goods. What if she defied her aunt, and cast her fortunes at once with him? No. She could not add to his burden. But need she do so? Could she not rather be a help? Toil9 had been ever her lot. She could not remember when she had not worked away her days—until, until Aunt Carolina had taken her up, had provided her with fine clothes, and made her live like a signora. No matter; she would rather be poor and work for Armando. But New York! That great monster crouching10 there in its Sunday nap, and sending lazy curls of steaming breath from its thousands of snouts! It was that they would have to dare—to fight that!
[Pg 231]
“You are a ninny to stand there in doubt—to think of doing anything but what I say,” Carolina went on. “See the clothes I have bought you. Do you know what I paid in Genova for that dress, that hat, those shoes? Well, I paid sixty lire, not counting the buttons and lining11. But what can one expect from a silly girl? I buy you fine clothes, I bring you to America in second class like a signora. I offer you a signore for a husband, with a beautiful house to live in. But you, the goose, say you like better to dress in rags, to have a beggar for a husband, to starve, to live in the streets; for into the streets you go, remember, if you continue to play the fool.”
Carolina was no stranger to the lotus that gives languor12 of conscience toward means when the end cries for attainment13. Moreover, her present mood was bordering desperation. The mishap14 that laid her low for so many months had worn off her veneer15 of placidity16, and she returned to America much the same galvanic Italian that she was [Pg 232]the day she first set foot in Castle Garden—the Carolina of pre-churchly days, who flared17 up and left her brother’s roof after a quarrel over watermelons, and put herself under holy orders. Unluckily for her peace of mind, while she lay a prisoner in the mountains waiting for broken bones to knit, she had received advices regularly concerning affairs at Casa Di Bello—especially affairs matrimonial. The letters were in the fine hand of the public writer of Mulberry, but the message they bore came from Carolina’s faithful ally, Angelica. In her zeal19 to serve, the cook only added wormwood to her mistress’s cup of gall20, for her missives always told darkly of some would-be wife threatening the castle. The last letter had spoken with maddening vagueness of a crisis surely at hand, and Carolina’s instinct told her that the crisis was Juno. For this reason she had sailed a week before the day given her brother as the one of her intended departure. How could she remain supine in Genoa when Casa Di Bello stood menaced [Pg 233]with an invasion that meant ruin to her fond designs? With Juno driven back, Carolina saw the battle won, for she had no doubt at all of her power to mould the will of a lovelorn maid. She was guilefully21 confident that there would arise no balk22 to her plans through Marianna’s refusal to be wived by Di Bello, for, with a subtilty deep set in her nature, she had counted from the outset, other arguments failing, that she should persuade the damsel in the end by the homely23 device of threatening to turn her adrift. Wherefore, having begun the assault, and observing that this line of tactics had melted Marianna to a thoughtful silence, she followed it up while they crossed the ferry from Hoboken, seated in a cab, their luggage on top. As they rolled over the cobbles of the lower East Side and the warm breath of May entered the window, Carolina gave her picture of a girl homeless and starving in the big city many a convincing touch. At Broadway, chance came to her aid with an object lesson. There was a [Pg 234]cable-car blockade, and while the cab waited, a haggard woman, young but aged24 by vice18 and want, put her open hand into the window. Carolina drove her away with an angry word and a contemptuous stare.
“You see how one treats beggars in New York,” she said to Marianna, whose colour had all gone. “You would be like that if I shut the door on you. Who do you think would feed you if I turned you out?”
Marianna looked upon the strange faces that passed by, and something she saw there—or the lack of something—in the eyes of her fellow-beings struck fresh terror to her soul, and the tears came. “Oh, where is Armando?” she asked herself, sobbing25. Why had he left the ship without her? It was all his fault. He should have taken her with him. He did not love her, and would not care if she did marry Signor Di Bello. If they had only stayed in Italy—in the mountains, where she had been so happy! She would have remained if Armando had. [Pg 235]She knew she would, in spite of Carolina. But he, too, was a fool. All was lost now—their love, their happiness. But for the bust26 he would have stayed at home, perhaps—yes, it was the bust! Maledictions upon it and the First Lady of the Land!
The cab dashed under the roar of an Elevated train. Carolina lay back in the seat and regarded her charge complacently27, with drooping28 eyelids29. As they turned into Mulberry her face was a symbol of smug content. She felt certain now of a manageable wife for Casa Di Bello. But the imperious tug30 she gave the brass31 bell handle of Casa Di Bello sounded the knell32 of her vivid hopes. The door opened, and she looked into the awe-struck face of Angelica. With difficulty the cook found speech for the terrible news: Signor Di Bello gone to church to be married—and to Juno the Superb! Yes, yes; the Neapolitan pig! At that very moment they must be standing33 at the altar of San Patrizio! Oh, the [Pg 236]grand feast that awaited them! See, there was the table all laid! Ah, such wine, such fruit! All there under the fine white cloth! Soon they would be back from the church, and the house would be full of guests eating and drinking, for he had invited the first families of the Torinesi, Milanesi, and Genovesi, besides many swine from the south. And all for a Neapolitan pig! Santissima Vergine!
Marianna felt that she would like to throw herself at this pig’s feet and kiss them in the joy of her deliverance, while Carolina gave play to her rage in a storm of anathema34 against her brother and the singer. In the thick of her onset—all rituals of conduct torn to shreds—the door bell jingled35 tragically36. With bated breath, Angelica turned the knob, and Carolina struck a pose of disdain37 in the hallway. As the door opened a chorus of greetings and happy auguries38 came from a group of men and women at the threshold, all in their sprucest Sunday array. They were the first lot of invited [Pg 237]guests, and would have swarmed39 in, but Carolina ordered them back.
“We have come to the wedding feast,” they protested. “Signor Di Bello has bidden us.”
“Begone, you ragabash and bobtail!” said Carolina, and she slammed the door in their faces.
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1
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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2
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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3
shun
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| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
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4
meddler
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| n.爱管闲事的人，干涉者 | |
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5
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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6
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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7
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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8
quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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10
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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11
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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12
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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13
attainment
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| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
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14
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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15
veneer
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| n.(墙上的)饰面，虚饰 | |
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16
placidity
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| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
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17
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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18
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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19
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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20
gall
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| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
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21
guilefully
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| adj.狡诈的，诡计多端的 | |
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22
balk
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| n.大方木料；v.妨碍；不愿前进或从事某事 | |
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23
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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24
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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25
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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26
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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27
complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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28
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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29
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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30
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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31
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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32
knell
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| n.丧钟声；v.敲丧钟 | |
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33
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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34
anathema
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| n.诅咒；被诅咒的人(物)，十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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35
jingled
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| 喝醉的 | |
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36
tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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37
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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38
auguries
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| n.（古罗马）占卜术，占卜仪式( augury的名词复数 )；预兆 | |
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39
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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