The light of the October afternoon lay on an old high-roofedhouse which enclosed in its long expanse of brick andyellowish stone the breadth of a grassy1 court filled withthe shadow and sound of limes.
From the escutcheoned piers2 at the entrance of the court alevel drive, also shaded by limes, extended to a white-barred gate beyond which an equally level avenue of grass,cut through a wood, dwindled3 to a blue-green blur4 against asky banked with still white slopes of cloud.
In the court, half-way between house and drive, a ladystood. She held a parasol above her head, and looked now atthe house-front, with its double flight of steps meetingbefore a glazed5 door under sculptured trophies6, now down thedrive toward the grassy cutting through the wood. Her airwas less of expectancy7 than of contemplation: she seemed notso much to be watching for any one, or listening for anapproaching sound, as letting the whole aspect of the placesink into her while she held herself open to its influence.
Yet it was no less apparent that the scene was not new toher. There was no eagerness of investigation8 in her survey:
she seemed rather to be looking about her with eyes towhich, for some intimate inward reason, details long sincefamiliar had suddenly acquired an unwonted freshness.
This was in fact the exact sensation of which Mrs. Leath wasconscious as she came forth9 from the house and descendedinto the sunlit court. She had come to meet her step-son,who was likely to be returning at that hour from anafternoon's shooting in one of the more distant plantations,and she carried in her hand the letter which had sent her insearch of him; but with her first step out of the house allthought of him had been effaced10 by another series ofimpressions.
The scene about her was known to satiety11. She had seenGivre at all seasons of the year, and for the greater partof every year, since the far-off day of her marriage; theday when, ostensibly driving through its gates at herhusband's side, she had actually been carried there on acloud of iris-winged visions.
The possibilities which the place had then represented werestill vividly12 present to her. The mere13 phrase "a Frenchchateau" had called up to her youthful fancy a throng14 ofromantic associations, poetic15, pictorial16 and emotional; andthe serene17 face of the old house seated in its park amongthe poplar-bordered meadows of middle France, had seemed, onher first sight of it, to hold out to her a fate as nobleand dignified18 as its own mien19.
Though she could still call up that phase of feeling it hadlong since passed, and the house had for a time become toher the very symbol of narrowness and monotony. Then, withthe passing of years, it had gradually acquired a lessinimical character, had become, not again a castle ofdreams, evoker20 of fair images and romantic legend, but theshell of a life slowly adjusted to its dwelling21: the placeone came back to, the place where one had one's duties,one's habits and one's books, the place one would naturallylive in till one died: a dull house, an inconvenient22 house,of which one knew all the defects, the shabbinesses, thediscomforts, but to which one was so used that one couldhardly, after so long a time, think one's self away from itwithout suffering a certain loss of identity.
Now, as it lay before her in the autumn mildness, itsmistress was surprised at her own insensibility. She hadbeen trying to see the house through the eyes of an oldfriend who, the next morning, would be driving up to it forthe first time; and in so doing she seemed to be opening herown eyes upon it after a long interval23 of blindness.
The court was very still, yet full of a latent life: thewheeling and rustling24 of pigeons about the rectangular yewsand across the sunny gravel25; the sweep of rooks above thelustrous greyish-purple slates26 of the roof, and the stir ofthe tree-tops as they met the breeze which every day, atthat hour, came punctually up from the river.
Just such a latent animation27 glowed in Anna Leath. In everynerve and vein28 she was conscious of that equipoise of blisswhich the fearful human heart scarce dares acknowledge. Shewas not used to strong or full emotions; but she had alwaysknown that she should not be afraid of them. She was notafraid now; but she felt a deep inward stillness.
The immediate29 effect of the feeling had been to send herforth in quest of her step-son. She wanted to stroll backwith him and have a quiet talk before they re-entered thehouse. It was always easy to talk to him, and at thismoment he was the one person to whom she could have spokenwithout fear of disturbing her inner stillness. She wasglad, for all sorts of reasons, that Madame de Chantelle andEffie were still at Ouchy with the governess, and that sheand Owen had the house to themselves. And she was glad thateven he was not yet in sight. She wanted to be alone alittle longer; not to think, but to let the long slow wavesof joy break over her one by one.
She walked out of the court and sat down on one of thebenches that bordered the drive. From her seat she had adiagonal view of the long house-front and of the domedchapel terminating one of the wings. Beyond a gate in thecourt-yard wall the flower-garden drew its dark-greensquares and raised its statues against the yellowingbackground of the park. In the borders only a few latepinks and crimsons31 smouldered, but a peacock strutting32 inthe sun seemed to have gathered into his out-spread fan allthe summer glories of the place.
In Mrs. Leath's hand was the letter which had opened hereyes to these things, and a smile rose to her lips at themere feeling of the paper between her fingers. The thrill itsent through her gave a keener edge to every sense. Shefelt, saw, breathed the shining world as though a thinimpenetrable veil had suddenly been removed from it.
Just such a veil, she now perceived, had always hung betweenherself and life. It had been like the stage gauze whichgives an illusive33 air of reality to the painted scene behindit, yet proves it, after all, to be no more than a paintedscene.
She had been hardly aware, in her girlhood, of differingfrom others in this respect. In the well-regulated well-fedSummers world the unusual was regarded as either immoral34 orill-bred, and people with emotions were not visited.
Sometimes, with a sense of groping in a topsy-turvyuniverse, Anna had wondered why everybody about her seemedto ignore all the passions and sensations which formed thestuff of great poetry and memorable35 action. In a communitycomposed entirely36 of people like her parents and herparents' friends she did not see how the magnificent thingsone read about could ever have happened. She was sure thatif anything of the kind had occurred in her immediate circleher mother would have consulted the family clergyman, andher father perhaps even have rung up the police; and hersense of humour compelled her to own that, in the givenconditions, these precautions might not have beenunjustified.
Little by little the conditions conquered her, and shelearned to regard the substance of life as a mere canvas forthe embroideries37 of poet and painter, and its little sweptand fenced and tended surface as its actual substance. Itwas in the visioned region of action and emotion that herfullest hours were spent; but it hardly occurred to her thatthey might be translated into experience, or connected withanything likely to happen to a young lady living in WestFifty- fifth Street.
She perceived, indeed, that other girls, leading outwardlythe same life as herself, and seemingly unaware38 of her worldof hidden beauty, were yet possessed39 of some vital secretwhich escaped her. There seemed to be a kind of freemasonrybetween them; they were wider awake than she, more alert,and surer of their wants if not of their opinions. Shesupposed they were "cleverer", and accepted her inferioritygood-humouredly, half aware, within herself, of a reserve ofunused power which the others gave no sign of possessing.
This partly consoled her for missing so much of what madetheir "good time"; but the resulting sense of exclusion40, ofbeing somehow laughingly but firmly debarred from a share oftheir privileges, threw her back on herself and deepened thereserve which made envious41 mothers cite her as a model ofladylike repression42.
Love, she told herself, would one day release her from thisspell of unreality. She was persuaded that the sublimepassion was the key to the enigma43; but it was difficult torelate her conception of love to the forms it wore in herexperience. Two or three of the girls she had envied fortheir superior acquaintance with the arts of life hadcontracted, in the course of time, what were variouslydescribed as "romantic" or "foolish" marriages; one evenmade a runaway44 match, and languished45 for a while under acloud of social reprobation46. Here, then, was passion inaction, romance converted to reality; yet the heroines ofthese exploits returned from them untransfigured, and theirhusbands were as dull as ever when one had to sit next tothem at dinner.
Her own case, of course, would be different. Some day shewould find the magic bridge between West Fifty-fifth Streetand life; once or twice she had even fancied that the cluewas in her hand. The first time was when she had met youngDarrow. She recalled even now the stir of the encounter.
But his passion swept over her like a wind that shakes theroof of the forest without reaching its still glades47 orrippling its hidden pools. He was extraordinarilyintelligent and agreeable, and her heart beat faster when hewas with her. He had a tall fair easy presence and a mindin which the lights of irony48 played pleasantly through theshades of feeling. She liked to hear his voice almost asmuch as to listen to what he was saying, and to listen towhat he was saying almost as much as to feel that he waslooking at her; but he wanted to kiss her, and she wanted totalk to him about books and pictures, and have him insinuatethe eternal theme of their love into every subject theydiscussed.
Whenever they were apart a reaction set in. She wonderedhow she could have been so cold, called herself a prude andan idiot, questioned if any man could really care for her,and got up in the dead of night to try new ways of doing herhair. But as soon as he reappeared her head straighteneditself on her slim neck and she sped her little shafts49 ofirony, or flew her little kites of erudition, while hot andcold waves swept over her, and the things she really wantedto say choked in her throat and burned the palms of herhands.
Often she told herself that any silly girl who had waltzedthrough a season would know better than she how to attract aman and hold him; but when she said "a man" she did notreally mean George Darrow.
Then one day, at a dinner, she saw him sitting next to oneof the silly girls in question: the heroine of the elopementwhich had shaken West Fifty-fifth Street to its base. Theyoung lady had come back from her adventure no less sillythan when she went; and across the table the partner of herflight, a fat young man with eye-glasses, sat stolidlyeating terrapin50 and talking about polo and investments.
The young woman was undoubtedly52 as silly as ever; yet afterwatching her for a few minutes Miss Summers perceived thatshe had somehow grown luminous53, perilous54, obscurely menacingto nice girls and the young men they intended eventually toaccept. Suddenly, at the sight, a rage of possessorshipawoke in her. She must save Darrow, assert her right to himat any price. Pride and reticence55 went down in a hurricaneof jealousy56. She heard him laugh, and there was somethingnew in his laugh...She watched him talking, talking...He satslightly sideways, a faint smile beneath his lids, loweringhis voice as he lowered it when he talked to her. Shecaught the same inflections, but his eyes were different.
It would have offended her once if he had looked at her likethat. Now her one thought was that none but she had a rightto be so looked at. And that girl of all others! Whatillusions could he have about a girl who, hardly a year ago,had made a fool of herself over the fat young man stolidlyeating terrapin across the table? If that was where romanceand passion ended, it was better to take to districtvisiting or algebra57!
All night she lay awake and wondered: "What was she sayingto him? How shall I learn to say such things?" and shedecided that her heart would tell her--that the next timethey were alone together the irresistible58 word would springto her lips. He came the next day, and they were alone, andall she found was: "I didn't know that you and Kitty Maynewere such friends."He answered with indifference59 that he didn't know it either,and in the reaction of relief she declared: "She's certainlyever so much prettier than she was...""She's rather good fun," he admitted, as though he had notnoticed her other advantages; and suddenly Anna saw in hiseyes the look she had seen there the previous evening.
She felt as if he were leagues and leagues away from her.
All her hopes dissolved, and she was conscious of sittingrigidly, with high head and straight lips, while theirresistible word fled with a last wing-beat into the goldenmist of her illusions...
She was still quivering with the pain and bewilderment ofthis adventure when Fraser Leath appeared. She met himfirst in Italy, where she was travelling with her parents;and the following winter he came to New York. In Italy hehad seemed interesting: in New York he became remarkable61.
He seldom spoke30 of his life in Europe, and let drop but themost incidental allusions62 to the friends, the tastes, thepursuits which filled his cosmopolitan64 days; but in theatmosphere of West Fifty-fifth Street he seemed theembodiment of a storied past. He presented Miss Summerswith a prettily-bound anthology of the old French poets and,when she showed a discriminating65 pleasure in the gift,observed with his grave smile: "I didn't suppose I shouldfind any one here who would feel about these things as Ido." On another occasion he asked her acceptance of a half-effaced eighteenth century pastel which he had surprisinglypicked up in a New York auction-room. "I know no one but youwho would really appreciate it," he explained.
He permitted himself no other comments, but these conveyedwith sufficient directness that he thought her worthy66 of adifferent setting. That she should be so regarded by a manliving in an atmosphere of art and beauty, and esteemingthem the vital elements of life, made her feel for the firsttime that she was understood. Here was some one whose scaleof values was the same as hers, and who thought her opinionworth hearing on the very matters which they both consideredof supreme67 importance. The discovery restored her self-confidence, and she revealed herself to Mr. Leath as she hadnever known how to reveal herself to Darrow.
As the courtship progressed, and they grew moreconfidential, her suitor surprised and delighted her bylittle explosions of revolutionary sentiment. He said:
"Shall you mind, I wonder, if I tell you that you live in adread-fully conventional atmosphere?" and, seeing that shemanifestly did not mind: "Of course I shall say things nowand then that will horrify68 your dear delightful69 parents--Ishall shock them awfully70, I warn you."In confirmation71 of this warning he permitted himself anoccasional playful fling at the regular church-going of Mr.
and Mrs. Summers, at the innocuous character of theliterature in their library, and at their guilelessappreciations in art. He even ventured to banter72 Mrs.
Summers on her refusal to receive the irrepressible KittyMayne who, after a rapid passage with George Darrow, was nowinvolved in another and more flagrant adventure.
"In Europe, you know, the husband is regarded as the onlyjudge in such matters. As long as he accepts the situation--" Mr. Leath explained to Anna, who took his view the moreemphatically in order to convince herself that, personally,she had none but the most tolerant sentiments toward thelady.
The subversiveness73 of Mr. Leath's opinions was enhanced bythe distinction of his appearance and the reserve of hismanners. He was like the anarchist74 with a gardenia75 in hisbuttonhole who figures in the higher melodrama76. Every word,every allusion63, every note of his agreeably-modulated voice,gave Anna a glimpse of a society at once freer and finer,which observed the traditional forms but had discarded theunderlying prejudices; whereas the world she knew haddiscarded many of the forms and kept almost all theprejudices.
In such an atmosphere as his an eager young woman, curiousas to all the manifestations77 of life, yet instinctivelydesiring that they should come to her in terms of beauty andfine feeling, must surely find the largest scope for self-expression. Study, travel, the contact of the world, thecomradeship of a polished and enlightened mind, wouldcombine to enrich her days and form her character; and itwas only in the rare moments when Mr. Leath's symmetricalblond mask bent78 over hers, and his kiss dropped on her likea cold smooth pebble79, that she questioned the completenessof the joys he offered.
There had been a time when the walls on which her gaze nowrested had shed a glare of irony on these early dreams. Inthe first years of her marriage the sober symmetry of Givrehad suggested only her husband's neatly-balanced mind. Itwas a mind, she soon learned, contentedly80 absorbed informulating the conventions of the unconventional. WestFifty-fifth Street was no more conscientiously81 concernedthan Givre with the momentous82 question of "what people did";it was only the type of deed investigated that wasdifferent. Mr. Leath collected his social instances withthe same seriousness and patience as his snuff-boxes. Heexacted a rigid60 conformity83 to his rules of non-conformityand his scepticism had the absolute accent of a dogma. Heeven cherished certain exceptions to his rules as the book-collector prizes a "defective84" first edition. TheProtestant church-going of Anna's parents had provoked hisgentle sarcasm85; but he prided himself on his mother'sdevoutness, because Madame de Chantelle, in embracing hersecond husband's creed86, had become part of a society whichstill observes the outward rites87 of piety88.
Anna, in fact, had discovered in her amiable89 and elegantmother-in-law an unexpected embodiment of the West Fifty-fifth Street ideal. Mrs. Summers and Madame de Chantelle,however strongly they would have disagreed as to theauthorized source of Christian90 dogma, would have foundthemselves completely in accord on all the momentousminutiae of drawing-room conduct; yet Mr. Leath treated hismother's foibles with a respect which Anna's experience ofhim forbade her to attribute wholly to filial affection.
In the early days, when she was still questioning the Sphinxinstead of trying to find an answer to it, she ventured totax her husband with his inconsistency.
"You say your mother won't like it if I call on that amusinglittle woman who came here the other day, and was let in bymistake; but Madame de Chantelle tells me she lives with herhusband, and when mother refused to visit Kitty Mayne yousaid----"Mr. Leath's smile arrested her. "My dear child, I don'tpretend to apply the principles of logic91 to my poor mother'sprejudices.""But if you admit that they ARE prejudices----?""There are prejudices and prejudices. My mother, of course,got hers from Monsieur de Chantelle, and they seem to me asmuch in their place in this house as the pot-pourri in yourhawthorn jar. They preserve a social tradition of which Ishould be sorry to lose the least perfume. Of course Idon't expect you, just at first, to feel the difference, tosee the nuance92. In the case of little Madame deVireville, for instance: you point out that she's stillunder her husband's roof. Very true; and if she were merelya Paris acquaintance--especially if you had met her, as onestill might, in the RIGHT KIND of house in Paris--Ishould be the last to object to your visiting her. But inthe country it's different. Even the best provincialsociety is what you would call narrow: I don't deny it; andif some of our friends met Madame de Vireville at Givre--well, it would produce a bad impression. You're inclined toridicule such considerations, but gradually you'll come tosee their importance; and meanwhile, do trust me when I askyou to be guided by my mother. It is always well for astranger in an old society to err51 a little on the side ofwhat you call its prejudices but I should rather describe asits traditions."After that she no longer tried to laugh or argue her husbandout of his convictions. They WERE convictions, andtherefore unassailable. Nor was any insincerity implied inthe fact that they sometimes seemed to coincide with hers.
There were occasions when he really did look at things asshe did; but for reasons so different as to make thedistance between them all the greater. Life, to Mr. Leath,was like a walk through a carefully classified museum,where, in moments of doubt, one had only to look at thenumber and refer to one's catalogue; to his wife it was likegroping about in a huge dark lumber-room where the exploringray of curiosity lit up now some shape of breathing beautyand now a mummy's grin.
In the first bewilderment of her new state these discoverieshad had the effect of dropping another layer of gauzebetween herself and reality. She seemed farther than everremoved from the strong joys and pangs93 for which she feltherself made. She did not adopt her husband's views, butinsensibly she began to live his life. She tried to throw acompensating ardour into the secret excursions of herspirit, and thus the old vicious distinction between romanceand reality was re-established for her, and she resignedherself again to the belief that "real life" was neitherreal nor alive.
The birth of her little girl swept away this delusion94. Atlast she felt herself in contact with the actual business ofliving: but even this impression was not enduring.
Everything but the irreducible crude fact of child-bearingassumed, in the Leath household, the same ghostly tinge95 ofunreality. Her husband, at the time, was all that his ownideal of a husband required. He was attentive96, and evensuitably moved: but as he sat by her bedside, andthoughtfully proffered97 to her the list of people who had"called to enquire98", she looked first at him, and then atthe child between them, and wondered at the blunderingalchemy of Nature...
With the exception of the little girl herself, everythingconnected with that time had grown curiously99 remote andunimportant. The days that had moved so slowly as theypassed seemed now to have plunged100 down head-long steeps oftime; and as she sat in the autumn sun, with Darrow's letterin her hand, the history of Anna Leath appeared to itsheroine like some grey shadowy tale that she might have readin an old book, one night as she was falling asleep...
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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piers
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| n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 )；（常设有娱乐场所的）突堤；柱子；墙墩 | |
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dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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forth
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effaced
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satiety
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| n.饱和；(市场的)充分供应 | |
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vividly
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mere
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throng
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poetic
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pictorial
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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evoker
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| 产生，引起； 唤起 | |
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dwelling
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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interval
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rustling
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gravel
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slates
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| （旧时学生用以写字的）石板( slate的名词复数 )； 板岩； 石板瓦； 石板色 | |
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animation
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vein
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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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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crimsons
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| 变为深红色（crimson的第三人称单数形式） | |
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strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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illusive
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immoral
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memorable
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entirely
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embroideries
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| 刺绣( embroidery的名词复数 )； 刺绣品； 刺绣法 | |
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unaware
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possessed
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exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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languished
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| 长期受苦( languish的过去式和过去分词 )； 受折磨； 变得（越来越）衰弱； 因渴望而变得憔悴或闷闷不乐 | |
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reprobation
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| n.斥责 | |
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glades
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| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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terrapin
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| n.泥龟；鳖 | |
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err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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algebra
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| n.代数学 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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discriminating
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| a.有辨别能力的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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horrify
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| vt.使恐怖，使恐惧，使惊骇 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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subversiveness
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| 颠覆；破坏 | |
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anarchist
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| n.无政府主义者 | |
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gardenia
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| n.栀子花 | |
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melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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conformity
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| n.一致，遵从，顺从 | |
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defective
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| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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nuance
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| n.(意义、意见、颜色)细微差别 | |
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pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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