Sonia found herself, after that meeting, in a state of helpless irresolution1. She could take no action. She could not even make plans. She could only drift. There was only one solace—work; and she was now generally the last person at the atelier, staying there until the light failed. She had got over all her timidity about being there after the others. The old concierge2 was apt to put her head in now and then, to nod to her, and give her a sense of protection; and sometimes she would come in and chat with her, while she was doing such sketchy3 sort of tidying up as an atelier admits of.
A few days had gone by without her having seen or heard of Harold. Martha seemed to divine that the princess wanted to talk only of her work and her atelier interests, and had tacitly adapted herself to her friend. They often worked together now, after regular hours,{144} but Martha generally found it necessary to go before her friend was ready.
One afternoon Martha had left rather earlier than usual, in order to keep an appointment with her brother, and Sonia was at work all alone, save for the companionship of her little terrier Inkling—a tiny, jet-black creature that wore a collar of little silver bells, which, Sonia had amused Martha by saying, had caused some one to give him the name of “Tinkling Inkling.” She did not often bring her pet to the atelier, for fear he might be troublesome. This afternoon, however, she knew that Etienne would not be there; and when the little fellow, palpitating with eagerness, had looked at her beseechingly4 from the seat of the carriage where she had just shut him in, she had suddenly snapped her fingers and twisted her lips into a sound of encouragement, and he had leaped out of the carriage window, and followed her with an air of perfect understanding that this unusual privilege made a demand on him to be on his best behavior.
He had been propriety6 itself all the afternoon, and Sonia had seen and appreciated his heroic self-control in not barking at the model, whom he had looked at with inveterate7 disap{145}proval, only expressed by one little whispered growl8. The class of society to which the model belonged were Inkling’s natural enemies; and whether, in spite of nudeness, he recognized this man as a member of that class, or whether the nudeness itself outraged9 his sense of propriety, certain it was that, during all the hours in which his mistress was painting, Inkling lay at her feet, with his eyes fixed10 unwinkingly upon his enemy, ready to take advantage of the first excuse to fly at him.
No such occasion had arisen, however; and now the model was gone, and Inkling, off duty at last, was enjoying the reaction of a sound nap at his mistress’s feet.
The room was so profoundly still that Sonia was startled by a rap at the door, gently though it was given. Even Inkling did not wake at it. She looked up from her easel, expecting to see her footman come to announce the carriage, or some workman delivering supplies for the atelier, and saw, instead, Harold Keene standing5 only a few feet from her. She knew that the swing-door had closed behind him, and that they were alone together. Her heart shook, and for a moment she could not speak. He came forward a little, and said in French:{146}
“I beg your pardon, princess. I came for my sister to fill an engagement. Is she not here?”
“She has just gone,” answered Sonia, also in French. “She expected to meet you at the apartment.”
“I have just been there. Not finding her, I came on here. I suppose I passed her on the way.”
Inkling had opened his eyes at the sound of voices, but, seeing that the model-throne was empty and his enemy gone, he had not troubled himself further. As Harold ceased speaking, a look of sudden interest came over the dog, and he got up, his little bells a-tinkle, and trotted11 across to where Harold stood.
No sooner had he looked at him than he uttered a gruff bark of surprise, and no sooner had he snuffed once at the legs of his trousers than he grew frantic12 with excitement. He barked and yelped13, and jumped up on him with such evidences of wild delight that no man with a kind heart in his bosom14 could have refused some recognition of such a welcome.
Harold stooped and patted him, speaking to him in English.{147}
Somehow, to have him treat a dog like that, and to address her in cold formality, in a foreign language, by a pompous15 title which did not belong to her, seemed to Sonia wilfully16 cruel.
Inkling, still frantic with delight, left Harold, and rushed over to her, yelping17 and barking, and shaking his tail violently, looking up in her face with eloquent18 insistency19. Then he ran back to Harold, and again back to her, with fluttering agitation20.
“Why do you speak to Inkling in English, and to me in French?”
“Because Inkling and I are old friends, who have a common language, while the Princess Mannernorff is a stranger and a foreigner.”
“I thought it was your wish.”
“And you despise me, probably, for the deception23 I have practised in passing myself off for the Princess Mannernorff! I did not do it deliberately,” she said, with an almost childlike air of contrition24 and confession25. “It has{148} hurt me all along to be deceiving Martha; but some one told her I was a Russian princess, and as my mother had been one before her marriage, and my aunt, with whom I live, is the Princess Mannernorff, I let the false impression remain, and even took advantage of it. It was wrong, I know; but I did want to hold on to Martha’s friendship a little longer. However,” she said, her face and voice hardening, “it is simply a question of time; and a few weeks sooner or later, what does it matter?”
“Why is it a question of time?” said Harold. “Why should you not keep that friendship always, if you care for it? Martha shall know nothing from me.”
There was a moment’s silence. Then Sonia said:
“I thought it possible that you might disapprove26 of our friendship.”
“Why should I? It is a thing absolutely between Martha and yourself.”
“She would cast me off immediately if she knew the truth, and any moment an accident may reveal it to her.”
“Such an accident is most unlikely. It could, as things are now, come about only through me, and I shall be on my guard.{149}”
How confident and strong he was! It roused all the pride in her. The sense of weakness which had overcome her at their last meeting, and which for a moment had threatened her in this one, was utterly27 gone.
“Besides,” went on Harold, quickly, “I believe you are wholly wrong in thinking that she would give you up if, by chance, she should discover what you have so carefully guarded from her. I see no reason why she should.”
He had spoken in English, since she had criticized his using French, and Inkling seemed at least partly satisfied, as he stood midway between the two, with his front legs wide apart, as if to keep his body firm, while his tail wriggled28 wildly, and his head turned from one to the other with a quickness which was enough to make him dizzy. He was alertly aware of them, but they had both forgotten him, in the keen absorption in each other which underlay29 their outward composure.
“Have you, then, told her nothing?” said Sonia, in answer to his last words.
“Only the simple fact.”
“That the woman whom I had loved no longer loved me; that she had repudiated31 my name and every connection with me, and had asked for a divorce, which I was taking all possible steps to give her as soon as it could be done.”
“And do you think that Martha, feeling as she does, would continue the acquaintance of a woman who had cast off her brother with no stronger reason than that?”
“It was sufficient for me. There could not be a stronger reason for divorce than absence of love on either side.”
“The world does not agree with you,” she said.
“Yet I fancy Martha would. If it came to remarriage on either side, her verdict would perhaps be condemnation32; but I think she would consider separation a higher thing than a loveless marriage.”
Somehow, there was a spirit in these words that touched her heart. Her voice, for the first time, was a little unsteady as she said:
“You do believe that, at least! You do feel that I could never think of another marriage!”
“I have always felt it. Indeed, I may say{151} I have known it. I know that you see the inevitableness of all this as clearly as I do. I have often wished, for your sake, that I had never seen you, to put this blight33 upon your life.”
“It need not trouble you, if you do. In my case there was a compensation, and a sufficient one. In your case there is none.”
She knew what he meant; that his love for her, and that happy month of marriage, had been enough to pay him for having afterward35 lost her; and she knew that he held the fact that she had never really loved him to have barred her from any compensation at all. Why did she so resent his assuming this? Had she not told him, in language of such emphatic36 decision that it rang even now in her ears, that she had found out that she had made a great mistake, and that she had never loved him? He had simply taken her at her word.
She wilfully ignored the true meaning of his last words, as she went on:
“It is a mistake to think that my life has no compensations. My work, whether it ever{152} amounts to anything or not, is a great compensation. The friendship of Martha is another. You are very good to wish not to take that from me; but the present sham37 conditions cannot be kept up after we separate. Fortune has favored us almost miraculously38 as it is. She heard that there was a Russian princess studying here, and some one mistakenly pointed39 me out for her. I had already seen her name on her canvases, and knowing that your mother and sisters were in Paris, of course I knew exactly who she was. Independent of this, her face and manner had strongly attracted me, so I saw no reason why we might not be friends, provided I could keep from her who I was. As soon as I saw that she believed me to be the princess, the fact that my aunt was a Russian and had Russian servants opened the way to my carrying on the idea; and so far there has been no trouble. My little Russian name for Sophia helped me, too. If she had known me as Sophia or Sophie, she would probably have recoiled40 from me, even if she had had no suspicion as to my identity.”
“I beg you not to have that thought,” said Harold. “If the time ever comes when the{153} truth must be declared to Martha, let me be the one to tell her; and I promise you there shall be no recoil—no lessening41 of her friendship for you.”
“Thank you,” said Sonia, coldly. “You were always a generous man.”
Her tone smote42 discordantly43 upon Harold. It seemed a sort of compulsory44 tribute to him, which he had no fancy for from her.
“I am thinking of Martha, too,” he said. “She is very lonely in her life, and rarely goes out to any one, in spite of her ardent45 nature. This friendship with you is very valuable to her, and I am anxious that nothing shall disturb it.”
“Thank you for correcting me,” returned the other, quickly; “though I did not really suppose that it was for my sake that you were willing to take so much trouble.”
She knew that this speech was silly, petulant46, and unworthy of her, but she wished him to understand that she asked and expected nothing of him. He could not be so cool and steady during this interview unless he had ceased to care for her. She quite realized that he had, and she wished him to know that she accepted it as a matter of course.{154}
Inkling, meantime, had grown very uneasy. He felt that things were not going well, and he now began to show symptoms of distress47, instead of the wild delight of the moment before. He ran whimpering from one to the other; and when they took no notice of him, he sprang upon the lap of his mistress, and, uttering the most expressive48 plaints and beseechings, tried to lick her face. Sonia, in a fit of irritation49 very characteristic of her, gave him a hard little slap, which sent him out of her lap, whining50, and running to Harold for pity. He was not really hurt; and she felt cross with the clever little brute51 for posing as a victim so successfully.
“Don’t touch him!” she cried imperatively52 to Harold. “He’s only pretending to get your pity. You sha’n’t pat him or speak to him. If you do, I’ll be very angry.”
The effect which these words had upon Harold would have surprised her, could she have known it. They were so like her, so absolutely herself, that they brought back the past with a rush; and it seemed such a hollow pretense53 to suppose that they were separated, and compelled to be as strangers to each other, that he came nearer to losing his head than he had done yet.{155}
Ignoring Inkling’s fawnings and plaints, he said suddenly:
“I am forgetting that Martha is waiting for me”; and then, changing his tone, and speaking in French, he added:
“May I take you to your carriage, princess?”
She answered him in French, as prompt and easy as himself. She thanked him for his offer, but declined it, saying that her servant would let her know when her carriage arrived. She added that she was not ready to leave the atelier yet, as she had lost time, which she must now make up.
He bowed in silence, turned, and walked away. Inkling made a weak effort to follow him, but was scared into a sudden and humiliated54 return by the imperious command of his mistress. The little creature looked so ridiculously distressed55, as he sat on his haunches near her, with his ears dropped and his tail nerveless and still beneath him, that Sonia’s irritation deepened as she put up her brushes and paints; and when she had washed her hands and was emptying the basin, she yielded to a sudden impulse and dashed half the meager56 supply of water over him.{156}
“There, you little idiot!” she said crossly. “That’s for your ridiculous nonsense in trying to make out that I care one pin for him, or anything about him. I’ll very soon convince him that I don’t; and if ever you dare to act in such a way again, I’ll sell you to the concierge on the spot!”
Inkling gave every indication of a complete understanding of this threat, which had the effect of bringing him at once to a state of cowed dejection.
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1
irresolution
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| n.不决断，优柔寡断，犹豫不定 | |
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concierge
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| n.管理员；门房 | |
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sketchy
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| adj.写生的，写生风格的，概略的 | |
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beseechingly
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| adv. 恳求地 | |
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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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6
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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inveterate
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| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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8
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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9
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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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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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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13
yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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15
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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wilfully
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| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
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yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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insistency
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| 强迫，坚决要求 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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disapprove
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| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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28
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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29
underlay
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| v.位于或存在于（某物）之下( underlie的过去式 )；构成…的基础（或起因），引起n.衬垫物 | |
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30
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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31
repudiated
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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33
blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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36
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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40
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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41
lessening
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| 减轻，减少，变小 | |
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42
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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43
discordantly
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| adv.不一致地，不和谐地 | |
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44
compulsory
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| n.强制的，必修的；规定的，义务的 | |
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45
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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46
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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47
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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49
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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50
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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51
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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52
imperatively
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| adv.命令式地 | |
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53
pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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54
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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55
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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meager
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| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
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