WELL, perhaps Dexter would understand now the need of hushing up the Grant Lindons... The picture might be a libel, of course—such things, Pauline knew, could be patched up out of quite unrelated photographs. The dancing circle might have been skilfully1 fitted into the Dawnside patio2, and goodness knew what shameless creatures have supplied the bodies of the dancers. Dexter had often told her that it was a common blackmailing3 trick.
Even if the photograph were genuine, Pauline could understand and make allowances. She had never seen anything of the kind herself at Dawnside—heaven forbid!—but whenever she had gone there for a lecture, or a new course of exercises, she had suspected that the bare whitewashed4 room, with its throned Buddha5, which received her and other like-minded ladies of her age, all active, earnest and eager for self-improvement, had not let them very far into the mystery. Beyond, perhaps, were other rites6, other settings: why not? Wasn't everybody talking about "the return to Nature," and ridiculing7 the American prudery in which the minds and bodies of her generation had been swaddled? The Mahatma was one of the leaders of the new movement: the Return to Purity, he called it. He was always celebrating the nobility of the human body, and praising the ease of the loose Oriental dress compared with the constricting8 western garb9: but Pauline had supposed the draperies he advocated to be longer and less transparent10; above all, she had not expected familiar faces above those insufficient11 scarves...
But here she was at her own door. There was just time to be ready for the Mothers; none in which to telephone to Dexter, or buy up the whole edition of the "Looker-on" (fantastic vision!), or try and get hold of its editor, who had once dined with her, and was rather a friend of Lita's. All these possibilities and impossibilities raced through her brain to the maddening tune12 of "too late" while she slipped off her street-dress and sat twitching13 with impatience14 under the maid's readjustment of her ruffled15 head. The gown prepared for the meeting, rich, matronly and just the least bit old-fashioned—very different from the one designed for the Birth Control committee—lay spread out beside the copy of her speech, and Maisie Bruss, who had been hovering16 within call, dashed back breathless from a peep over the stairs.
"They're arriving—"
"Oh, Maisie, rush down! Say I'm telephoning—"
Her incurable17 sincerity18 made her unhook the receiver and call out Manford's office number. Almost instantly she heard him. "Dexter, this Mahatma investigation19 must be stopped! Don't ask me why—there isn't time. Only promise—"
She heard his impatient laugh.
"No?"
"Impossible," came back.
She supposed she had hung up the receiver, fastened on her jewelled "Motherhood" badge, slipped on rings and bracelets20 as usual. But she remembered nothing clearly until she found herself on the platform at the end of the packed ball-room, looking across rows and rows of earnest confiding21 faces, with lips and eyes prepared for the admiring reception of her "message." She was considered a very good speaker: she knew how to reach the type of woman represented by this imposing22 assemblage—delegates from small towns all over the country, united by a common faith in the infinite extent of human benevolence23 and the incalculable resources of American hygiene24. Something of the moral simplicity25 of her own bringing-up brought her close to these women, who had flocked to the great perfidious26 city serenely27 unaware28 of its being anything more, or other, than the gigantic setting of a Mothers' Meeting. Pauline, at such times, saw the world through their eyes, and was animated29 by a genuine ardour for the cause of motherhood and domesticity.
As she turned toward her audience a factitious serenity30 descended31 on her. She felt in control of herself and of the situation. She spoke32.
"Personality—first and last, and at all costs. I've begun my talk to you with that one word because it seems to me to sum up our whole case. Personality—room to develop in: not only elbow-room but body-room and soul-room, and plenty of both. That's what every human being has a right to. No more effaced33 wives, no more drudging mothers, no more human slaves crushed by the eternal round of housekeeping and child-bearing—"
She stopped, drew a quick breath, met Nona's astonished gaze over rows of bewildered eye-glasses, and felt herself plunging34 into an abyss. But she caught at the edge, and saved herself from the plunge—
"That's what our antagonists35 say—the women who are afraid to be mothers, ashamed to be mothers, the women who put their enjoyment36 and their convenience and what they call their happiness before the mysterious heaven-sent joy, the glorious privilege, of bringing children into the world—"
A round of applause from the reassured37 mothers. She had done it! She had pulled off her effect from the very jaws38 of disaster. Only the swift instinct of recovery had enabled her, before it was too late, to pass off the first sentences of her other address, her Birth Control speech, as the bold exordium of her hymn39 to motherhood! She paused a moment, still inwardly breathless, yet already sure enough of herself to smile back at Nona across her unsuspecting audience—sure enough to note that her paradoxical opening had had a much greater effect than she could have hoped to produce by the phrases with which she had meant to begin.
Only—the inward nervousness subsisted41. The discovery that she could lose not only her self-control but her memory, the very sense of what she was saying, was like a hand of ice pointing to an undecipherable warning.
Nervousness, fatigue42, brain-exhaustion ... had her fight against them been vain? What was the use of all the months and years of patient Taylorized effort against the natural human fate: against anxiety, sorrow, old age—if their menace was to reappear whenever events slipped from her control?
The address ended in applause and admiring exclamations43. She had won her way straight to those trustful hearts, still full of personal memories of a rude laborious44 life, or in which its stout tradition lingered on in spite of motors, money and the final word in plumbing45.
Pauline, after the dispersal of the Mothers, had gone up to her room still dazed by the narrowness of her escape. Thank heaven she had a free hour! She threw herself on her lounge and turned her gaze inward upon herself: an exercise for which she seldom had the leisure.
Now that she knew she was safe, and had done nothing to discredit46 herself or the cause, she could penetrate47 an inch or two farther into the motive48 power of her activities; and what she saw there frightened her. To be Chairman of the Mothers' Day Association, and a speaker at the Birth Control banquet! It did not need her daughter's derisive49 chuckle50 to give her the measure of her inconsequence. Yet to reconcile these contradictions had seemed as simple as to invite the Chief Rabbi and the Bishop51 of New York to meet Amalasuntha's Cardinal52. Did not the Mahatma teach that, to the initiated53, all discords54 were resolved into a higher harmony? When her hurried attention had been turned for a moment on the seeming inconsistency of encouraging natality and teaching how to restrict it, she had felt it was sufficient answer to say that the two categories of people appealed to were entirely55 different, and could not be "reached" in the same way. In ethics56, as in advertising57, the main thing was to get at your public. Hitherto this argument had satisfied her. Feeling there was much to be said on both sides, she had thrown herself with equal zeal58 into the propagation of both doctrines59; but now, surveying her attempt with a chastened eye, she doubted its expediency60.
Maisie Bruss, appearing with notes and telephone messages, seemed to reflect this doubt in her small buttoned-up face.
"Oh, Maisie! Is there anything important? I'm dead tired." It was an admission she did not often make.
"Nothing much. Three or four papers have 'phoned for copies of your address. It was a great success."
A faint glow of satisfaction wavered through Pauline's perplexities. She did not pretend to eloquence61; she knew her children smiled at her syntax. Yet she had reached the hearts of her audience, and who could deny that that was success?
"Oh, Maisie—I don't think it's good enough to appear in print ..."
The secretary smiled, made a short-hand memorandum62, and went on: "The Marchesa telephoned that her son is sailing on Wednesday—and I've sent off her cable about the Cardinal, answer paid."
"Sailing on Wednesday? But it can't be—the day after tomorrow!" Pauline raised herself on an anxious elbow. She had warned her husband, and he wouldn't listen. "Telephone downstairs, please, Maisie—find out if Mr. Manford has come in." But she knew well enough what the answer would be. Nowadays, whenever there was anything serious to be talked over, Dexter found some excuse for avoiding her. She lay back, her lids dropped over her tired eyes, and waited for the answer: "Mr. Manford isn't in yet."
Something had come over Dexter lately: no closing of her eyes would shut that out! She supposed it was over-work—the usual reason. Rich men's doctors always said they were over-worked when they became cross and trying at home.
"Dinner at the Toys' at 8.30." Miss Bruss continued her recital63; and Pauline drew in her lips on a faintly bitter smile. At the Toys'—he wouldn't forget that! Whenever there was a woman who attracted him ... why, Lita even ... she'd seen him in a flutter once when he was going to the cinema with Lita, and thought she had forgotten to call for him! He had stamped up and down, watch in hand... Well, she supposed it was one of the symptoms of middle age: a passing phase. She could afford to be generous, after twenty years of his devotion; and she meant to be. Men didn't grow old as gracefully64 as women—she knew enough not to nag65 him about his little flirtations, and was really rather grateful to that silly Gladys Toy for making a fuss over him.
But when it came to serious matters, like this of the Mahatma, it was different, Dexter owed it to her to treat her opinions with more consideration—a woman whose oratory was sought for by a dozen newspapers! And that tiresome66 business of Michelangelo; another problem he had obstinately67 shirked. Discouragement closed in on Pauline. Of what use were eurythmics, cold douches, mental deep-breathings and all the other panaceas68?
If things went on like this she would have to have her face lifted.
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1
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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blackmailing
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| 胁迫，尤指以透露他人不体面行为相威胁以勒索钱财( blackmail的现在分词 ) | |
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whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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Buddha
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| n.佛；佛像；佛陀 | |
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rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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ridiculing
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的现在分词 ) | |
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constricting
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| 压缩，压紧，使收缩( constrict的现在分词 ) | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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16
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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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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18
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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20
bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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22
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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hygiene
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| n.健康法，卫生学 （a.hygienic） | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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perfidious
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| adj.不忠的，背信弃义的 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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28
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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31
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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32
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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33
effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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35
antagonists
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| 对立[对抗] 者，对手，敌手( antagonist的名词复数 )； 对抗肌； 对抗药 | |
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36
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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38
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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40
oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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41
subsisted
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| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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43
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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44
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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45
plumbing
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| n.水管装置；水暖工的工作；管道工程v.用铅锤测量（plumb的现在分词）；探究 | |
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46
discredit
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| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
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47
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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48
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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49
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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50
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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51
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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52
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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53
initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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54
discords
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| 不和（discord的复数形式） | |
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55
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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56
ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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57
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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58
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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expediency
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| n.适宜；方便；合算；利己 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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64
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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65
nag
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| v.(对…)不停地唠叨；n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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66
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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panaceas
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| n.治百病的药，万灵药( panacea的名词复数 ) | |
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