NICK LANSING, in the Milan express, was roused by the same barof sunshine lying across his knees. He yawned, looked withdisgust at his stolidly1 sleeping neighbours, and wondered why hehad decided2 to go to Milan, and what on earth he should do whenhe got there. The difficulty about trenchant3 decisions was thatthe next morning they generally left one facing a void ....
When the train drew into the station at Milan, he scrambled4 out,got some coffee, and having drunk it decided to continue hisjourney to Genoa. The state of being carried passively onwardpostponed action and dulled thought; and after twelve hours offurious mental activity that was exactly what he wanted.
He fell into a doze5 again, waking now and then to haggardintervals of more thinking, and then dropping off to the clankand rattle6 of the train. Inside his head, in his wakingintervals, the same clanking and grinding of wheels and chainswent on unremittingly. He had done all his lucid7 thinkingwithin an hour of leaving the Palazzo Vanderlyn the nightbefore; since then, his brain had simply continued to revolveindefatigably about the same old problem. His cup of coffee,instead of clearing his thoughts, had merely accelerated theirpace.
At Genoa he wandered about in the hot streets, bought a cheapsuit-case and some underclothes, and then went down to the portin search of a little hotel he remembered there. An hour laterhe was sitting in the coffee-room, smoking and glancing vacantlyover the papers while he waited for dinner, when he became awareof being timidly but intently examined by a small round-facedgentleman with eyeglasses who sat alone at the adjoining table.
"Hullo--Buttles!" Lansing exclaimed, recognising with surprisethe recalcitrant8 secretary who had resisted Miss Hicks'sendeavour to convert him to Tiepolo.
Mr. Buttles, blushing to the roots of his scant9 hair, half roseand bowed ceremoniously.
Nick Lansing's first feeling was of annoyance10 at being disturbedin his solitary11 broodings; his next, of relief at having topostpone them even to converse12 with Mr. Buttles.
"No idea you were here: is the yacht in harbour?" he asked,remembering that the Ibis must be just about to spread herwings.
Mr. Buttles, at salute13 behind his chair, signed a mute negation14:
for the moment he seemed too embarrassed to speak.
"Ah--you're here as an advance guard? I remember now--I sawMiss Hicks in Venice the day before yesterday," Lansingcontinued, dazed at the thought that hardly forty-eight hourshad passed since his encounter with Coral in the Scalzi.
Mr. Buttles, instead of speaking, had tentatively approached histable. "May I take this seat for a moment, Mr. Lansing? Thankyou. No, I am not here as an advance guard--though I believethe Ibis is due some time to-morrow." He cleared his throat,wiped his eyeglasses on a silk handkerchief, replaced them onhis nose, and went on solemnly: "Perhaps, to clear up anypossible misunderstanding, I ought to say that I am no longer inthe employ of Mr. Hicks."Lansing glanced at him sympathetically. It was clear that hesuffered horribly in imparting this information, though hiscompact face did not lend itself to any dramatic display ofemotion.
"Really," Nick smiled, and then ventured: "I hope it's notowing to conscientious16 objections to Tiepolo?"Mr. Buttles's blush became a smouldering agony. "Ah, Miss Hicksmentioned to you ... told you ...? No, Mr. Lansing. I amprincipled against the effete17 art of Tiepolo, and of all hiscontemporaries, I confess; but if Miss Hicks chooses tosurrender herself momentarily to the unwholesome spell of theItalian decadence18 it is not for me to protest or to criticize.
Her intellectual and aesthetic19 range so far exceeds my humblecapacity that it would be ridiculous, unbecoming ...."He broke off, and once more wiped a faint moisture from hiseyeglasses. It was evident that he was suffering from adistress which he longed and yet dreaded20 to communicate. ButNick made no farther effort to bridge the gulf21 of his ownpreoccupations; and Mr. Buttles, after an expectant pause, wenton: "If you see me here to-day it is only because, after asomewhat abrupt22 departure, I find myself unable to take leave ofour friends without a last look at the Ibis--the scene of somany stimulating23 hours. But I must beg you," he addedearnestly, "should you see Miss Hicks--or any other member ofthe party--to make no allusion24 to my presence in Genoa. Iwish," said Mr. Buttles with simplicity25, "to preserve thestrictest incognito26."Lansing glanced at him kindly27. "Oh, but--isn't that a littleunfriendly?""No other course is possible, Mr. Lansing," said the ex-secretary, "and I commit myself to your discretion28. The truthis, if I am here it is not to look once more at the Ibis, but atMiss Hicks: once only. You will understand me, and appreciatewhat I am suffering."He bowed again, and trotted29 away on his small, tightly-bootedfeet; pausing on the threshold to say: "From the first it washopeless," before he disappeared through the glass doors.
A gleam of commiseration30 flashed through Nick's mind: there wassomething quaintly31 poignant32 in the sight of the brisk andefficient Mr. Buttles reduced to a limp image of unrequitedpassion. And what a painful surprise to the Hickses to be thussuddenly deprived of the secretary who possessed33 "the foreignlanguages"! Mr. Beck kept the accounts and settled with thehotel-keepers; but it was Mr. Buttles's loftier task toentertain in their own tongues the unknown geniuses who flockedabout the Hickses, and Nick could imagine how disconcerting hisdeparture must be on the eve of their Grecian cruise which Mrs.
Hicks would certainly call an Odyssey34.
The next moment the vision of Coral's hopeless suitor had faded,and Nick was once more spinning around on the wheel of his ownwoes. The night before, when he had sent his note to Susy, froma little restaurant close to Palazzo Vanderlyn that they oftenpatronized, he had done so with the firm intention of going awayfor a day or two in order to collect his wits and think over thesituation. But after his letter had been entrusted35 to thelandlord's little son, who was a particular friend of Susy's,Nick had decided to await the lad's return. The messenger hadnot been bidden to ask for an answer; but Nick, knowing thefriendly and inquisitive36 Italian mind, was almost sure that theboy, in the hope of catching37 a glimpse of Susy, would lingerabout while the letter was carried up. And he pictured the maidknocking at his wife's darkened room, and Susy dashing somepowder on her tear-stained face before she turned on the light--poor foolish child!
The boy had returned rather sooner than Nick expected, and hehad brought no answer, but merely the statement that thesignora was out: that everybody was out.
"Everybody?""The signora and the four gentlemen who were dining at thepalace. They all went out together on foot soon after dinner.
There was no one to whom I could give the note but the gondolieron the landing, for the signora had said she would be very late,and had sent the maid to bed; and the maid had, of course, goneout immediately with her innamorato.""Ah--" said Nick, slipping his reward into the boy's hand, andwalking out of the restaurant.
Susy had gone out--gone out with their usual band, as she didevery night in these sultry summer weeks, gone out after hertalk with Nick, as if nothing had happened, as if his wholeworld and hers had not crashed in ruins at their feet. Ah, poorSusy! After all, she had merely obeyed the instinct of selfpreservation, the old hard habit of keeping up, going ahead andhiding her troubles; unless indeed the habit had alreadyengendered indifference38, and it had become as easy for her asfor most of her friends to pass from drama to dancing, fromsorrow to the cinema. What of soul was left, he wondered--?
His train did not start till midnight, and after leaving therestaurant Nick tramped the sultry by-ways till his tired legsbrought him to a standstill under the vine-covered pergola of agondolier's wine-shop at a landing close to the Piazzetta.
There he could absorb cooling drinks until it was time to go tothe station.
It was after eleven, and he was beginning to look about for aboat, when a black prow39 pushed up to the steps, and with muchchaff and laughter a party of young people in evening dressjumped out. Nick, from under the darkness of the vine, saw thatthere was only one lady among them, and it did not need the lampabove the landing to reveal her identity. Susy, bareheaded andlaughing, a light scarf slipping from her bare shoulders, acigarette between her fingers, took Strefford's arm and turnedin the direction of Florian's, with Gillow, the Prince and youngBreckenridge in her wake ....
Nick had relived this rapid scene hundreds of times during hishours in the train and his aimless trampings through the streetsof Genoa. In that squirrel-wheel of a world of his and Susy'syou had to keep going or drop out--and Susy, it was evident, hadchosen to keep going. Under the lamp-flare on the landing hehad had a good look at her face, and had seen that the mask ofpaint and powder was carefully enough adjusted to hide anyravages the scene between them might have left. He even fanciedthat she had dropped a little atropine into her eyes ....
There was no time to spare if he meant to catch the midnighttrain, and no gondola41 in sight but that which his wife had justleft. He sprang into it, and bade the gondolier carry him tothe station. The cushions, as he leaned back, gave out a breathof her scent42; and in the glare of electric light at the stationhe saw at his feet a rose which had fallen from her dress. Heground his heel into it as he got out.
There it was, then; that was the last picture he was to have ofher. For he knew now that he was not going back; at least notto take up their life together. He supposed he should have tosee her once, to talk things over, settle something for theirfuture. He had been sincere in saying that he bore her no ill-will; only he could never go back into that slough43 again. If hedid, he knew he would inevitably44 be drawn45 under, slippingdownward from concession46 to concession ....
The noises of a hot summer night in the port of Genoa would havekept the most care-free from slumber47; but though Nick lay awakehe did not notice them, for the tumult48 in his brain was moredeafening. Dawn brought a negative relief, and out of sheerweariness he dropped into a heavy sleep. When he woke it wasnearly noon, and from his window he saw the well-known outlineof the Ibis standing15 up dark against the glitter of the harbour.
He had no fear of meeting her owners, who had doubtless longsince landed and betaken themselves to cooler and morefashionable regions: oddly enough, the fact seemed toaccentuate his loneliness, his sense of having no one on earthto turn to. He dressed, and wandered out disconsolately49 to pickup50 a cup of coffee in some shady corner.
As he drank his coffee his thoughts gradually cleared. Itbecame obvious to him that he had behaved like a madman or apetulant child--he preferred to think it was like a madman. Ifhe and Susy were to separate there was no reason why it shouldnot be done decently and quietly, as such transactions werehabitually managed among people of their kind. It seemedgrotesque to introduce melodrama51 into their little world ofunruffled Sybarites, and he felt inclined, now, to smile at theincongruity of his gesture .... But suddenly his eyes filledwith tears. The future without Susy was unbearable,inconceivable. Why, after all, should they separate? At thequestion, her soft face seemed close to his, and that slightlift of the upper lip that made her smile so exquisite52. Well-he would go back. But not with any presence of going to talkthings over, come to an agreement, wind up their joint53 life likea business association. No--if he went back he would go withoutconditions, for good, forever ....
Only, what about the future? What about the not far-distant daywhen the wedding cheques would have been spent, and Granny'spearls sold, and nothing left except unconcealed andunconditional dependence54 on rich friends, the role of theacknowledged hangers-on? Was there no other possible solution,no new way of ordering their lives? No--there was none: hecould not picture Susy out of her setting of luxury and leisure,could not picture either of them living such a life as the NatFulmers, for instance! He remembered the shabby untidy bungalowin New Hampshire, the slatternly servants, uneatable food andubiquitous children. How could he ask Susy to share such a lifewith him? If he did, she would probably have the sense torefuse. Their alliance had been based on a moment's midsummermadness; now the score must be paid ....
He decided to write. If they were to part he could not trusthimself to see her. He called a waiter, asked for pen andpaper, and pushed aside a pile of unread newspapers on thecorner of the table where his coffee had been served. As he didso, his eye lit on a Daily Mail of two days before. As apretext for postponing55 his letter, he took up the paper andglanced down the first page. He read:
"Tragic Yachting Accident in the Solent. The Earl of Altringhamand his son Viscount d'Amblay drowned in midnight collision.
Both bodies recovered."He read on. He grasped the fact that the disaster had happenedthe night before he had left Venice and that, as the result of afog in the Solent, their old friend Strefford was now Earl ofAltringham, and possessor of one of the largest private fortunesin England. It was vertiginous56 to think of their oldimpecunious Streff as the hero of such an adventure. And whatirony in that double turn of the wheel which, in one day, hadplunged him, Nick Lansing, into nethermost58 misery59, while ittossed the other to the stars!
With an intenser precision he saw again Susy's descent from thegondola at the calle steps, the sound of her laughter and ofStrefford's chaff40, the way she had caught his arm and clung toit, sweeping60 the other men on in her train. Strefford--Susy andStrefford! ... More than once, Nick had noticed the softerinflections of his friend's voice when he spoke61 to Susy, thebrooding look in his lazy eyes when they rested on her. In thesecurity of his wedded62 bliss63 Nick had made light of those signs.
The only real jealousy64 he had felt had been of Fred Gillow,because of his unlimited65 power to satisfy a woman's whims66. YetNick knew that such material advantages would never againsuffice for Susy. With Strefford it was different. She haddelighted in his society while he was notoriously ineligible;might not she find him irresistible67 now?
The forgotten terms of their bridal compact came back to Nick:
the absurd agreement on which he and Susy had solemnly pledgedtheir faith. But was it so absurd, after all? It had beenSusy's suggestion (not his, thank God!); and perhaps in makingit she had been more serious than he imagined. Perhaps, even iftheir rupture68 had not occurred, Strefford's sudden honours mighthave caused her to ask for her freedom ....
Money, luxury, fashion, pleasure: those were the fourcornerstones of her existence. He had always known it--sheherself had always acknowledged it, even in their last dreadfultalk together; and once he had gloried in her frankness. Howcould he ever have imagined that, to have her fill of thesethings, she would not in time stoop lower than she had yetstooped? Perhaps in giving her up to Strefford he might besaving her. At any rate, the taste of the past was now sobitter to him that he was moved to thank whatever gods therewere for pushing that mortuary paragraph under his eye ....
"Susy, dear [he wrote], the fates seem to have taken our futurein hand, and spared us the trouble of unravelling69 it. If I havesometimes been selfish enough to forget the conditions on whichyou agreed to marry me, they have come back to me during thesetwo days of solitude70. You've given me the best a man can have,and nothing else will ever be worth much to me. But since Ihaven't the ability to provide you with what you want, Irecognize that I've no right to stand in your way. We must oweno more Venetian palaces to underhand services. I see by thenewspapers that Streff can now give you as many palaces as youwant. Let him have the chance--I fancy he'll jump at it, andhe's the best man in sight. I wish I were in his shoes.
"I'll write again in a day or two, when I've collected my wits,and can give you an address. NICK."He added a line on the subject of their modest funds, put theletter into an envelope, and addressed it to Mrs. NicholasLansing. As he did so, he reflected that it was the first timehe had ever written his wife's married name.
"Well--by God, no other woman shall have it after her," hevowed, as he groped in his pocketbook for a stamp.
He stood up with a stretch of weariness--the heat was stifling71!
--and put the letter in his pocket.
"I'll post it myself, it's safer," he thought; "and then what inthe name of goodness shall I do next, I wonder?" He jammed hishat down on his head and walked out into the sun-blaze.
As he was turning away from the square by the general PostOffice, a white parasol waved from a passing cab, and CoralHicks leaned forward with outstretched hand. "I knew I'd findyou," she triumphed. "I've been driving up and down in thisbroiling sun for hours, shopping and watching for you at thesame time."He stared at her blankly, too bewildered even to wonder how sheknew he was in Genoa; and she continued, with the kind of shyimperiousness that always made him feel, in her presence, like amember of an orchestra under a masterful baton72; "Now please getright into this carriage, and don't keep me roasting hereanother minute." To the cabdriver she called out: Al porto."Nick Lansing sank down beside her. As he did so he noticed aheap of bundles at her feet, and felt that he had simply addedone more to the number. He supposed that she was taking herspoils to the Ibis, and that he would be carried up to the deck-house to be displayed with the others. Well, it would all helpto pass the day--and by night he would have reached some kind ofa decision about his future.
On the third day after Nick's departure the post brought to thePalazzo Vanderlyn three letters for Mrs. Lansing.
The first to arrive was a word from Strefford, scribbled73 in thetrain and posted at Turin. In it he briefly74 said that he hadbeen called home by the dreadful accident of which Susy hadprobably read in the daily papers. He added that he would writeagain from England, and then--in a blotted75 postscript--: "Iwanted uncommonly76 badly to see you for good-bye, but the hourwas impossible. Regards to Nick. Do write me just a word toAltringham."The other two letters, which came together in the afternoon,were both from Genoa. Susy scanned the addresses and fell uponthe one in her husband's writing. Her hand trembled so muchthat for a moment she could not open the envelope. When she haddone so, she devoured77 the letter in a flash, and then sat andbrooded over the outspread page as it lay on her knee. It mightmean so many things--she could read into it so many harrowingalternatives of indifference and despair, of irony57 andtenderness! Was he suffering tortures when he wrote it, orseeking only to inflict78 them upon her? Or did the wordsrepresent his actual feelings, no more and no less, and did hereally intend her to understand that he considered it his dutyto abide79 by the letter of their preposterous80 compact? He hadleft her in wrath81 and indignation, yet, as a closer scrutinyrevealed, there was not a word of reproach in his brief lines.
Perhaps that was why, in the last issue, they seemed so cold toher .... She shivered and turned to the other envelope.
The large stilted82 characters, though half-familiar, called up nodefinite image. She opened the envelope and discovered a post-card of the Ibis, canvas spread, bounding over a rippled83 sea.
On the back was written:
"So awfully84 dear of you to lend us Mr. Lansing for a littlecruise. You may count on our taking the best of care of him.
CORAL"
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stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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trenchant
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| adj.尖刻的，清晰的 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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rattle
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lucid
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recalcitrant
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scant
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annoyance
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solitary
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converse
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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negation
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| n.否定；否认 | |
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standing
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conscientious
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effete
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decadence
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aesthetic
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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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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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abrupt
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stimulating
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allusion
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simplicity
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incognito
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kindly
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discretion
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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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commiseration
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quaintly
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poignant
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possessed
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odyssey
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entrusted
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inquisitive
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catching
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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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prow
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chaff
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gondola
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| n.威尼斯的平底轻舟；飞船的吊船 | |
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scent
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slough
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inevitably
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drawn
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concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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disconsolately
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pickup
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| n.拾起，获得 | |
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melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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postponing
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| v.延期，推迟( postpone的现在分词 ) | |
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vertiginous
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| adj.回旋的；引起头晕的 | |
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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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nethermost
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| adj.最下面的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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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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wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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66
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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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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rupture
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| n.破裂；(关系的)决裂；v.(使)破裂 | |
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unravelling
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| 解开，拆散，散开( unravel的现在分词 )； 阐明； 澄清； 弄清楚 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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baton
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| n.乐队用指挥杖 | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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78
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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81
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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82
stilted
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| adj.虚饰的；夸张的 | |
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83
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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