Lady Guy Plunder1 said that if you wanted to hear Octavius talk you went to Charlie’s; but if you wanted to talk yourself you came, sooner or later, to her.
There was a good deal of truth in it. Her little house in Mayfair — even smaller than Charlie’s, and mouse-coloured instead of dove — was packed to the doorstep for her cocktail2 suppers. Lady Guy (one of the rich Blessoms of Birmingham) had started her married career in a big house with tessellated floors and caryatid mantelpieces; but when taxes and overproduction had contracted the Blessom millions she had moved light-heartedly into the compactest habitation to be found, and Lord Guy had abandoned lawn-tennis championships for a job in the city.
Lady Guy, Vance had learned, headed one of the numerous groups within groups that made London such a labyrinthine3 adventure. Lady Pevensey commanded the big omnivorous4 throng5 of the rich, the idle and nomadic6. Her name was known round the world to the echoes of palace-hotels, and was a sure key to sensational7 first-nights, theatrical8 or pugilistic. She was the woman who could always get you a seat for a coronation, a prizefight, a murder trial or a show proscribed9 by the censorship; who juggled10 with movie-stars, millionaires and musicians, and to whom all were interchangeable values in the social market. Lady Guy said that Imp11 had a social ticker, and could quote prices in celebrities12 at any hour. That she could float them and boost them there was no denying; but could she also manufacture them? No; it took Charlie and Lady Guy to do that, and at times the rivalry13 was hot between them. Lady Guy, a small woman with quick eyes and a tranquil14 manner, had, it was true, failed to capture Octavius, who was admittedly the biggest haul of post-war London. Charlie said it was because her atmosphere was too restless; she retorted that she wasn’t going to be stagnant15 to oblige anybody. But the two remained on fairly good terms, Charlie because he needed Lady Guy’s finds to entertain Octavius, and Lady Guy because she did not despair of luring16 Octavius away from him.
It was at Charlie’s that she had discovered Vance, and immediately she had guessed his value. To the people in Imp Pevensey’s set he was merely the clever new American novelist who had written “The Puritan in Spain”, which was modern enough to make one feel in the movement, yet full of lovely scenery and rather sticky love-making. But that would not do for Lady Guy. She found out about “Colossus” from Derek Fane, and instantly, whenever Vance was mentioned, the Plunder set said: “Oh, ‘The Puritan in Spain’? Y-yes — that belongs to his pretty-pretty period. But of course you know about ‘Colossus’? Hasn’t Gwen Plunder asked you for next Friday? He’s promised to read us some fragments . . .” and Vance was immediately known as the author of “Colossus”, that unfinished masterpiece of which the elect were already cognizant, and which was perhaps to surpass Octavius’s gigantic creation, and probably to appear before it.
That this was clever of Gwen even her detractors had to admit. If she should succeed in deflating Octavius he might have to become one of her habitués, if only in order to be reinflated. And meanwhile there was Vance at her disposal, young, good-looking, fresh, a novelty to the London palate — while Octavius was already a staple19 diet. Instantly Vance became the most sought-after figure in literary and artistic20 London, and certain disdainful personages who had affected21 indifference22 to Lady Guy’s previous celebrities now overwhelmed her with attentions and invitations, all of which she smilingly accepted without committing herself with regard to the Friday reading.
Lady Pevensey used her artists and writers as bait for millionaires, and her millionaires (and especially their females) as baits for Bohemia. If a budding society novelist wanted to know what sort of gowns and jewels were being worn at small dinners that year, or what young Lord Easterbridge and the Duke of Branksome really talked about when they were with their own little crowd, Lady Pevensey instantly arranged a meeting between best-sellers and best-dressers. For her parties women put on their emeralds, and the budding novelist had to come in a white tie. Lady Guy’s policy was the reverse. The first inducement she offered you was that you needn’t dress; in fact she besought23 you not to. There were few idlers at her parties, and people were urged to drop in “just as they were”. The men could wear city clothes, or sweaters and plus~fours, the women come straight from their studios, old-furniture shops, manicuring establishments, dress-makers’ salons24 or typists’ desks. She had thus captured some of Bloomsbury’s wildest birds, and maddened the wearers of tiaras with the unappeased longing25 to be invited.
Vance, as he took off his overcoat, and straightened the dark brown tie which had been carefully chosen to set off his gray striped flannel26, examined his reflection curiously27 in the glass at the foot of Lady Guy’s stairs. His selves, as he had long since discovered, were innumerable, and there were times when each in turn had something interesting to say to him. But at the moment only two were audible: the ironic28 spectator who stood aside and chuckled29, and the hero of the evening, whose breast was bursting with triumph. Lady Guy had run over, carelessly, the names of some of the people who had asked to be asked; among them were a few for whose approbation30 and understanding Vance would have given every facile success he had ever enjoyed. And they were awaiting him now, they wanted to hear what he had to tell them, they believed in him and in his future. The ironic spectator shrank into the background as the laughing hero, besieged31 by smiles and invitations, sprang upstairs to greet his hostess.
With the unfolding of the manuscript both these light puppets were brushed aside, and Vance was the instrument to which the goddess laid her lips. He forgot where he was, who was listening, what judgment32 this or that oracle33 was preparing to pronounce on him, and remembered only that each syllable34 he spoke35 had been fed with his life, and was a part of him. At first he was aware of reading too fast, of slurring36 his words in the way that Halo reproved; then his voice freed itself and spread wings, and he seemed to hang above his creation, and to see that it was good.
For the most part he was listened to in silence, but he thought he felt a subtle current of understanding flowing between him and his audience, and now and then it escaped in a murmur37 of approbation that was like wind in his sails. Thus urged, he sped on. The pages seemed to take life, his figures arose and walked, and he felt that dizzy sense of power which eternally divides the creator from the rest of mankind.
As he laid his manuscript down Lady Guy’s guests gathered around him. Every one had something to say, and at once he divined that for all of them the important thing was not what he had written but the epithets38 they had found to apply to it. The disenchantment was immediate17. “It’s the same everywhere,” he thought, recalling the literary evenings at the Tarrants’, where the flower of New York culture had praised him for the wrong reasons. He had learned then how short a way into an artist’s motives39 the discernment of the cleverest ever penetrated40. How his visions had dwindled41 under their touch — how he had hated them for admiring him for the wrong reasons, and despised himself for imagining that their admiration42 was worth having!
Now it was just the same. These brilliant sophisticated people, who had seemed so stimulating43 and discriminating44 when they talked of other people’s books — how wide of the mark they went in dealing45 with his! He felt ashamed of his dissatisfaction, which resembled a voracious46 appetite for praise, though it was only a timid craving47 for such flashes of insight as Frenside and Tolby had once and again shed on his work. One or two men — not more; and not one woman. Not even Halo, he thought ungratefully. . .
Awkwardly he gathered up his pages. The cessation of the reading restored him to self-consciousness, and he wished he could have escaped at once, like an actor slipping behind the wings. But his audience was clustering about him, showering compliments, putting foolish questions, increasing his longing to be back among the inarticulate and the unself-conscious. And suddenly, as he stood there, accepting invitations and stammering48 thanks, the door opened and Floss Delaney came in.
He had met her only once since their chance encounter at Charlie Tarlton’s. She had urged him, then, to come and see her, and had named the day and hour; but when he presented himself at the hotel where she and her father were staying he found her absent-minded and indifferent, distracted by telephone-calls, by notes to be answered, and dress-makers to be interviewed, and abandoning him to the society of her father and Alders49. He swore then that it should be the end, and assured himself that he was thankful to have had his lesson. But when Floss appeared in Lady Guy’s drawing-room he felt a difference in her before which all his resolutions crumbled50; for he knew at once that she had come for him, and him only.
She glanced about her in the cool critical way which always made it seem as if any entertainment at which she appeared had been planned in her honour; and to Lady Guy’s expression of regret that she should have missed the reading, she replied lightly: “Oh, I’m glad it’s over. I never was much on books.”
Her hostess gave a slightly acid laugh. “That’s why I hadn’t meant to invite you, my dear.”
“Oh, I know; but it’s the reason why I wanted to come. I mean, your not wanting me,” said Miss Delaney, with her grave explicitness51. “I always like to see what’s going on. Besides,” she added, “I’ve known Vance a good while longer than any of you people, and it would have been no use pretending to him that I understood a word of what he was reading.” She went toward him, and held out her hand. “You’ll have to make the best of it, Vanny. I came to see you and not your book.”
It was as if the crowded room had been magically emptied, and she and Vance were alone. He looked at her with enchanted52 eyes. Who else in the world would have known exactly what he longed to have said to him at that particular moment? Ah, this was what women were for — to feel the way to one’s heart just when the Preacher’s vanity weighed on it most heavily!
Lady Guy’s guests were pouring down the stairs to the dining-room; as Floss turned to follow she threw a smile at Vance and caught his hand. “We’ll go down together. I’m ravenous53, aren’t you? Get me something to eat as quick as you can, darling.”
Vance had never seen her so radiant, so sure of herself. Her very quietness testified to her added sense of power. Her dark hair, parted in a new fashion, clasped her low forehead in dense54 folds which a thread of diamonds held in place, and she wore something light and shining, that seemed an accident of her own effulgence55. In the crowded little dining-room the mere18 force of that inner shining — he didn’t know how else to describe it — drew the men from the other women, who were so much quicker and cleverer, and knew so much what to say. Vance found himself speedily separated from her by eager competitors; but he had no feeling of unrest. For this one evening he knew she belonged to him, she was not going to forget him or desert him.
And when the party broke up he found himself again at her side, found that, as a matter of course, he had her cloak on his arm, and was following her out into the thin summer night. He got into the motor beside her, and the chauffeur56 looked back for orders.
“Oh, how hot it was in there! I’m suffocating57, aren’t you?” She lowered the front window. “We’ll drive straight down to Brambles,” she commanded, and the chauffeur nodded, apparently58 unsurprised. They sped away.
“Brambles? Where’s that?” Vance asked, not in the least caring to know, but merely wanting to fit the new name into his dream.
“It’s a little place father’s hired for week-ends; somewhere under Hindhead, I think they call it. You go over the top of everything. Don’t you think it would be lovely to see the sunrise from the top of a big hill? I believe we can make it; there’s not much traffic at this hour. I’m dead sick of crowds, aren’t you?” Her head sank back against the cushioned seat. “I wasn’t going to have all those people think you and I’d never done anything together but talk high~brow!” she exclaimed, with her low unexpected laugh. She turned and kissed him, and then shook him off to light a cigarette. “Don’t bother me — I just want to doze59 and dream.”
收听单词发音 |
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plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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labyrinthine
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| adj.如迷宫的；复杂的 | |
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omnivorous
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| adj.杂食的 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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nomadic
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| adj.流浪的；游牧的 | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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proscribed
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| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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juggled
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| v.歪曲( juggle的过去式和过去分词 )；耍弄；有效地组织；尽力同时应付（两个或两个以上的重要工作或活动） | |
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imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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celebrities
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| n.（尤指娱乐界的）名人( celebrity的名词复数 )；名流；名声；名誉 | |
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rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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luring
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的现在分词形式） | |
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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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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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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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besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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salons
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| n.（营业性质的）店( salon的名词复数 )；厅；沙龙（旧时在上流社会女主人家的例行聚会或聚会场所）；（大宅中的）客厅 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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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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ironic
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| adj.讽刺的，有讽刺意味的，出乎意料的 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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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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slurring
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| 含糊地说出( slur的现在分词 )； 含糊地发…的声； 侮辱； 连唱 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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epithets
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| n.（表示性质、特征等的）词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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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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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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discriminating
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| a.有辨别能力的 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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voracious
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| adj.狼吞虎咽的，贪婪的 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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alders
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| n.桤木( alder的名词复数 ) | |
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50
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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51
explicitness
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52
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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effulgence
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| n.光辉 | |
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56
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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