Every single thing he had prophesied1 came so true that it was after all no more than fair to expect quite as much for what he had as good as promised. His pledges they could verify to the letter, down to his very guarantee that a way would be found with Miss Ash. Roused in the summer dawn and vehemently3 squeezed by that interesting exile, Maisie fell back upon her couch with a renewed appreciation4 of his policy, a memento5 of which, when she rose later on to dress, glittered at her from the carpet in the shape of a sixpence that had overflowed6 from Susan's pride of possession. Sixpences really, for the forty-eight hours that followed, seemed to abound7 in her life; she fancifully computed8 the number of them represented by such a period of "larks9." The number was not kept down, she presently noticed, by any scheme of revenge for Sir Claude's flight which should take on Mrs. Wix's part the form of a refusal to avail herself of the facilities he had so bravely ordered. It was in fact impossible to escape them; it was in the good lady's own phrase ridiculous to go on foot when you had a carriage prancing10 at the door. Everything about them pranced11: the very waiters even as they presented the dishes to which, from a similar sense of the absurdity12 of perversity13, Mrs. Wix helped herself with a freedom that spoke14 to Maisie quite as much of her depletion15 as of her logic16. Her appetite was a sign to her companion of a great many things and testified no less on the whole to her general than to her particular condition. She had arrears17 of dinner to make up, and it was touching18 that in a dinnerless state her moral passion should have burned so clear. She partook largely as a refuge from depression, and yet the opportunity to partake was just a mark of the sinister19 symptoms that depressed20 her. The affair was in short a combat, in which the baser element triumphed, between her refusal to be bought off and her consent to be clothed and fed. It was not at any rate to be gainsaid21 that there was comfort for her in the developments of France; comfort so great as to leave Maisie free to take with her all the security for granted and brush all the danger aside. That was the way to carry out in detail Sir Claude's injunction to be "nice"; that was the way, as well, to look, with her, in a survey of the pleasures of life abroad, straight over the head of any doubt.
They shrank at last, all doubts, as the weather cleared up: it had an immense effect on them and became quite as lovely as Sir Claude had engaged. This seemed to have put him so into the secret of things, and the joy of the world so waylaid22 the steps of his friends, that little by little the spirit of hope filled the air and finally took possession of the scene. To drive on the long cliff was splendid, but it was perhaps better still to creep in the shade—for the sun was strong—along the many-coloured and many-odoured port and through the streets in which, to English eyes, everything that was the same was a mystery and everything that was different a joke. Best of all was to continue the creep up the long Grand' Rue2 to the gate of the haute ville and, passing beneath it, mount to the quaint23 and crooked24 rampart, with its rows of trees, its quiet corners and friendly benches where brown old women in such white-frilled caps and such long gold earrings25 sat and knitted or snoozed, its little yellow-faced houses that looked like the homes of misers26 or of priests and its dark château where small soldiers lounged on the bridge that stretched across an empty moat and military washing hung from the windows of towers. This was a part of the place that could lead Maisie to enquire27 if it didn't just meet one's idea of the middle ages; and since it was rather a satisfaction than a shock to perceive, and not for the first time, the limits in Mrs. Wix's mind of the historic imagination, that only added one more to the variety of kinds of insight that she felt it her own present mission to show. They sat together on the old grey bastion; they looked down on the little new town which seemed to them quite as old, and across at the great dome28 and the high gilt29 Virgin30 of the church that, as they gathered, was famous and that pleased them by its unlikeness to any place in which they had worshipped. They wandered in this temple afterwards and Mrs. Wix confessed that for herself she had probably made a fatal mistake early in life in not being a Catholic. Her confession31 in its turn caused Maisie to wonder rather interestedly what degree of lateness it was that shut the door against an escape from such an error. They went back to the rampart on the second morning—the spot on which they appeared to have come furthest in the journey that was to separate them from everything objectionable in the past: it gave them afresh the impression that had most to do with their having worked round to a confidence that on Maisie's part was determined32 and that she could see to be on her companion's desperate. She had had for many hours the sense of showing Mrs. Wix so much that she was comparatively slow to become conscious of being at the same time the subject of a like aim. The business went the faster, however, from the moment she got her glimpse of it; it then fell into its place in her general, her habitual33 view of the particular phenomenon that, had she felt the need of words for it, she might have called her personal relation to her knowledge. This relation had never been so lively as during the time she waited with her old governess for Sir Claude's reappearance, and what made it so was exactly that Mrs. Wix struck her as having a new suspicion of it. Mrs. Wix had never yet had a suspicion—this was certain—so calculated to throw her pupil, in spite of the closer union of such adventurous34 hours, upon the deep defensive35. Her pupil made out indeed as many marvels36 as she had made out on the rush to Folkestone; and if in Sir Claude's company on that occasion Mrs. Wix was the constant implication, so in Mrs. Wix's, during these hours, Sir Claude was—and most of all through long pauses—the perpetual, the insurmountable theme. It all took them back to the first flush of his marriage and to the place he held in the schoolroom at that crisis of love and pain; only he had himself blown to a much bigger balloon the large consciousness he then filled out.
They went through it all again, and indeed while the interval37 dragged by the very weight of its charm they went, in spite of defences and suspicions, through everything. Their intensified38 clutch of the future throbbed39 like a clock ticking seconds; but this was a timepiece that inevitably40, as well, at the best, rang occasionally a portentous41 hour. Oh there were several of these, and two or three of the worst on the old city-wall where everything else so made for peace. There was nothing in the world Maisie more wanted than to be as nice to Mrs. Wix as Sir Claude had desired; but it was exactly because this fell in with her inveterate42 instinct of keeping the peace that the instinct itself was quickened. From the moment it was quickened, however, it found other work, and that was how, to begin with, she produced the very complication she most sought to avert43. What she had essentially44 done, these days, had been to read the unspoken into the spoken; so that thus, with accumulations, it had become more definite to her that the unspoken was, unspeakably, the completeness of the sacrifice of Mrs. Beale. There were times when every minute that Sir Claude stayed away was like a nail in Mrs. Beale's coffin45. That brought back to Maisie—it was a roundabout way—the beauty and antiquity46 of her connexion with the flower of the Overmores as well as that lady's own grace and charm, her peculiar47 prettiness and cleverness and even her peculiar tribulations48. A hundred things hummed at the back of her head, but two of these were simple enough. Mrs. Beale was by the way, after all, just her stepmother and her relative. She was just—and partly for that very reason—Sir Claude's greatest intimate ("lady-intimate" was Maisie's term) so that what together they were on Mrs. Wix's prescription49 to give up and break short off with was for one of them his particular favourite and for the other her father's wife. Strangely, indescribably her perception of reasons kept pace with her sense of trouble; but there was something in her that, without a supreme50 effort not to be shabby, couldn't take the reasons for granted. What it comes to perhaps for ourselves is that, disinherited and denuded51 as we have seen her, there still lingered in her life an echo of parental52 influence—she was still reminiscent of one of the sacred lessons of home. It was the only one she retained, but luckily she retained it with force. She enjoyed in a word an ineffaceable view of the fact that there were things papa called mamma and mamma called papa a low sneak53 for doing or for not doing. Now this rich memory gave her a name that she dreaded54 to invite to the lips of Mrs. Beale: she should personally wince55 so just to hear it. The very sweetness of the foreign life she was steeped in added with each hour of Sir Claude's absence to the possibility of such pangs56. She watched beside Mrs. Wix the great golden Madonna, and one of the ear-ringed old women who had been sitting at the end of their bench got up and pottered away. "Adieu mesdames!" said the old woman in a little cracked civil voice—a demonstration57 by which our friends were so affected58 that they bobbed up and almost curtseyed to her. They subsided59 again, and it was shortly after, in a summer hum of French insects and a phase of almost somnolent60 reverie, that Maisie most had the vision of what it was to shut out from such a perspective so appealing a participant. It had not yet appeared so vast as at that moment, this prospect61 of statues shining in the blue and of courtesy in romantic forms.
"Why after all should we have to choose between you? Why shouldn't we be four?" she finally demanded.
Mrs. Wix gave the jerk of a sleeper62 awakened63 or the start even of one who hears a bullet whiz at the flag of truce64. Her stupefaction at such a breach65 of the peace delayed for a moment her answer. "Four improprieties, do you mean? Because two of us happen to be decent people! Do I gather you to wish that I should stay on with you even if that woman is capable—?"
Maisie took her up before she could further phrase Mrs. Beale's capability66. "Stay on as my companion—yes. Stay on as just what you were at mamma's. Mrs. Beale would let you!" the child said.
Mrs. Wix had by this time fairly sprung to her arms. "And who, I'd like to know, would let Mrs. Beale? Do you mean, little unfortunate, that you would?"
"Why not, if now she's free?"
"Free? Are you imitating him? Well, if Sir Claude's old enough to know better, upon my word I think it's right to treat you as if you also were. You'll have to, at any rate—to know better—if that's the line you're proposing to take." Mrs. Wix had never been so harsh; but on the other hand Maisie could guess that she herself had never appeared so wanton. What was underlying67, however, rather overawed than angered her; she felt she could still insist—not for contradiction, but for ultimate calm. Her wantonness meanwhile continued to work upon her friend, who caught again, on the rebound68, the sound of deepest provocation69. "Free, free, free? If she's as free as you are, my dear, she's free enough, to be sure!"
"As I am?"—Maisie, after reflexion and despite whatever of portentous this seemed to convey, risked a critical echo.
"Well," said Mrs. Wix, "nobody, you know, is free to commit a crime."
"A crime!" The word had come out in a way that made the child sound it again.
"You'd commit as great a one as their own—and so should I—if we were to condone70 their immorality71 by our presence."
Maisie waited a little; this seemed so fiercely conclusive72. "Why is it immorality?" she nevertheless presently enquired73.
Her companion now turned upon her with a reproach softer because it was somehow deeper. "You're too unspeakable! Do you know what we're talking about?"
In the interest of ultimate calm Maisie felt that she must be above all clear. "Certainly; about their taking advantage of their freedom."
"Well, to do what?"
"Why, to live with us."
"Then to live with me."
The words made her friend jump. "You give me up? You break with me for ever? You turn me into the street?"
Maisie, though gasping75 a little, bore up under the rain of challenges. "Those, it seems to me, are the things you do to me."
Mrs. Wix made little of her valour. "I can promise you that, whatever I do, I shall never let you out of my sight! You ask me why it's immorality when you've seen with your own eyes that Sir Claude has felt it to be so to that dire76 extent that, rather than make you face the shame of it, he has for months kept away from you altogether? Is it any more difficult to see that the first time he tries to do his duty he washes his hands of her—takes you straight away from her?"
Maisie turned this over, but more for apparent consideration than from any impulse to yield too easily. "Yes, I see what you mean. But at that time they weren't free." She felt Mrs. Wix rear up again at the offensive word, but she succeeded in touching her with a remonstrant hand. "I don't think you know how free they've become."
"I know, I believe, at least as much as you do!"
"Oh does she?" At this the child's countenance80 fell: it seemed to give a reason for papa's behaviour and place it in a more favourable81 light. She wished to be just. "I don't say she's not generous. She was so to me."
"How, to you?"
"She gave me a lot of money."
Mrs. Wix stared. "And pray what did you do with a lot of money?"
"I gave it to Mrs. Beale."
"And what did Mrs. Beale do with it?"
"She sent it back."
"To the Countess? Gammon!" said Mrs. Wix. She disposed of that plea as effectually as Susan Ash.
"Well, I don't care!" Maisie replied. "What I mean is that you don't know about the rest."
"The rest? What rest?"
Maisie wondered how she could best put it. "Papa kept me there an hour."
"I do know—Sir Claude told me. Mrs. Beale had told him."
Maisie looked incredulity. "How could she—when I didn't speak of it?"
Mrs. Wix was mystified. "Speak of what?"
"The Countess? Of course she's frightful!" Mrs. Wix returned. After a moment she added: "That's why she pays him."
Maisie pondered. "It's the best thing about her then—if she gives him as much as she gave me!"
"Well, it's not the best thing about him! Or rather perhaps it is too!" Mrs. Wix subjoined.
"But she's awful—really and truly," Maisie went on.
Mrs. Wix arrested her. "You needn't go into details!" It was visibly at variance83 with this injunction that she yet enquired: "How does that make it any better?"
"Their living with me? Why for the Countess—and for her whiskers!—he has put me off on them. I understood him," Maisie profoundly said.
"I hope then he understood you. It's more than I do!" Mrs. Wix admitted.
This was a real challenge to be plainer, and our young lady immediately became so. "I mean it isn't a crime."
"Why then did Sir Claude steal you away?"
"You must allow me to reply to that," cried Mrs. Wix, "that you knew nothing of the sort, and that you rather basely failed to back me up last night when you pretended so plump that you did! You hoped in fact, exactly as much as I did and as in my senseless passion I even hope now, that this may be the beginning of better things."
Oh yes, Mrs. Wix was indeed, for the first time, sharp; so that there at last stirred in our heroine the sense not so much of being proved disingenuous85 as of being precisely86 accused of the meanness that had brought everything down on her through her very desire to shake herself clear of it. She suddenly felt herself swell87 with a passion of protest. "I never, never hoped I wasn't going again to see Mrs. Beale! I didn't, I didn't, I didn't!" she repeated. Mrs. Wix bounced about with a force of rejoinder of which she also felt that she must anticipate the concussion88 and which, though the good lady was evidently charged to the brim, hung fire long enough to give time for an aggravation89. "She's beautiful and I love her! I love her and she's beautiful!"
"And I'm hideous90 and you hate me?" Mrs. Wix fixed91 her a moment, then caught herself up. "I won't embitter92 you by absolutely accusing you of that; though, as for my being hideous, it's hardly the first time I've been told so! I know it so well that even if I haven't whiskers—have I?—I dare say there are other ways in which the Countess is a Venus to me! My pretensions93 must therefore seem to you monstrous—which comes to the same thing as your not liking94 me. But do you mean to go so far as to tell me that you want to live with them in their sin?"
"Yes, I do; you want me to be as bad as yourself! Well, I won't. There! Mrs. Beale's as bad as your father!" Mrs. Wix went on.
"You mean because Sir Claude at least has beauty and wit and grace? But he pays just as the Countess pays!" Mrs. Wix, who now rose as she spoke, fairly revealed a latent cynicism.
It raised Maisie also to her feet; her companion had walked off a few steps and paused. The two looked at each other as they had never looked, and Mrs. Wix seemed to flaunt97 there in her finery. "Then doesn't he pay you too?" her unhappy charge demanded.
At this she bounded in her place. "Oh you incredible little waif!" She brought it out with a wail98 of violence; after which, with another convulsion, she marched straight away.
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收听单词发音
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1
prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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memento
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| n.纪念品，令人回忆的东西 | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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abound
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| vi.大量存在；(in，with)充满，富于 | |
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computed
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| adj.[医]计算的，使用计算机的v.计算，估算( compute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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pranced
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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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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depletion
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| n.耗尽，枯竭 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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arrears
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| n.到期未付之债，拖欠的款项；待做的工作 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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gainsaid
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| v.否认，反驳( gainsay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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waylaid
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| v.拦截，拦路( waylay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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misers
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| 守财奴，吝啬鬼( miser的名词复数 ) | |
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enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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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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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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38
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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40
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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41
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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43
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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44
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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45
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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46
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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47
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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48
tribulations
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| n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 )；艰难；苦难的缘由；痛苦 | |
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49
prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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50
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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51
denuded
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| adj.[医]变光的，裸露的v.使赤裸( denude的过去式和过去分词 )；剥光覆盖物 | |
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52
parental
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| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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53
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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54
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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55
wince
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| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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56
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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57
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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somnolent
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| adj.想睡的，催眠的；adv.瞌睡地；昏昏欲睡地；使人瞌睡地 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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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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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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capability
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| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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rebound
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| v.弹回；n.弹回，跳回 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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condone
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| v.宽恕；原谅 | |
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immorality
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| n. 不道德, 无道义 | |
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conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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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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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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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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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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variance
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| n.矛盾，不同 | |
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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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disingenuous
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| adj.不诚恳的，虚伪的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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concussion
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| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
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aggravation
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| n.烦恼，恼火 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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embitter
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| v.使苦；激怒 | |
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pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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flaunt
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| vt.夸耀，夸饰 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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