In which Two Comrades are Tete-A-Tete in Their Old Quarters, and Doctor Sturk’s Cue is Cut Off, and a Consultation1 Commences.
The buzz of a village, like the hum of a city, represents a very wonderful variety of human accent and feeling. It is marvellous how few families thrown together will suffice to furnish forth2 this dubia coena of sweets and bitters.
The roar of many waters — the ululatus of many-voiced humanity — marvellously monotonous3, considering the infinite variety of its ingredients, booms on through the dark. The story-teller alone can take up the score of the mighty4 medley5, and read at a glance what every fife and fiddle-stick is doing. That pompous6 thrum-thrum is the talk of the great white Marseilles paunch, pietate gravis; the whine7 comes from Lazarus, at the area rails; and the bass8 is old Dives, roaring at his butler; the piccolo is contributed by the studious school-boy, whistling over his Latin Grammar; that wild, long note is poor Mrs. Fondle’s farewell of her dead boy; the ugly barytone, rising from the tap-room, is what Wandering Willie calls a sculduddery song — shut your ears, and pass on; and that clear soprano, in nursery, rings out a shower of innocent idiotisms over the half-stripped baby, and suspends the bawl9 upon its lips.
So, on this night, as usual, there rose up toward the stars a throbbing10 murmur11 from our village — a wild chaos12 of sound, which we must strive to analyse, extracting from the hurly-burly each separate tune13 it may concern us to hear.
Captain Devereux was in his lodging14. He was comparatively tranquil15 now; but a savage16 and impious despair possessed17 him. Serene18 outwardly — he would not let the vulgar see his scars and sores; and was one of those proud spirits who build to themselves desolate19 places.
Little Puddock was the man with whom he had least reserve. Puddock was so kindly20, and so true and secret, and cherished beside, so great an admiration21 for him, that he greeted him rather kindly at a moment when another visitor would have fared scurvily22 enough. Puddock was painfully struck with his pallor, his wild and haggard eye, and something stern and brooding in his handsome face, which was altogether new and shocking to him.
‘I’ve been thinking, Puddock,’ he said; ‘and thought with me has grown strangely like despair — and that’s all. Why, man, think — what is there for me?— all my best stakes I’ve lost already; and I’m fast losing myself. How different, Sir, is my fate from others? Worse men than I— every way incomparably worse — and d —— them, they prosper23, while I go down the tide. ‘Tisn’t just!’ And he swore a great oath. ‘’Tis enough to make a man blaspheme. I’ve done with life — I hate it. I’ll volunteer. ’Tis my first thought in the morning, and my last at night, how well I’d like a bullet through my brain or heart. D—— the world, d —— feeling, d —— memory. I’m not a man that can always be putting prudential restraints upon myself. I’ve none of those plodding24 ways. The cursed fools that spoiled me in my childhood, and forsake25 me now, have all to answer for — I charge them with my ruin.’ And he launched a curse at them (meaning his aunt) which startled the plump soul of honest little Puddock.
‘You must not talk that way, Devereux,’ he said, still a good deal more dismayed by his looks than his words. ‘Why are you so troubled with vapours and blue devils?’
‘Nowhy!’ said Devereux, with a grim smile.
‘My dear Devereux, I say, you mustn’t talk in that wild way. You — you talk like a ruined man!’
‘And I so comfortable!’
‘Why, to be sure, Dick, you have had some little rubs, and, maybe, your follies26 and your vexations; but, hang it, you are young; you can’t get experience — at least, so I’ve found it — without paying for it. You mayn’t like it just now; but it’s well worth the cost. Your worries and miscarriages27, dear Richard, will make you steady.’
‘Steady!’ echoed Devereux, like a man thinking of something far away.
‘Ay, Dick — you’ve sown your wild oats.’
On a sudden, says the captain, ‘My dear little Puddock,’ and he took him by the hand, with a sort of sarcastic28 flicker29 of a smile, and looked in his face almost contemptuously; but his eyes and his voice softened30 before the unconscious bonhomie of the true little gentleman. ‘Puddock, Puddock, did it never strike you, my boy, that Hamlet never strives to speak a word of comfort to the forlorn old Dane? He felt it would not do. Every man that’s worth a button knows his own case best; and I know the secrets of my own prison-house. Sown my wild oats! To be sure I have, Puddock, my boy; and the new leaf I’ve turned over is just this; I’ve begun to reap them; and they’ll grow, my boy, and grow as long as grass grows; and — Macbeth has his dagger31, you know, and I’ve my sickle32 — the handle towards my hand, that you can’t see; and in the sweat of my brow, I must cut down and garner33 my sheaves; and as I sowed, so must I reap, and grind, and bake, the black and bitter grist of my curse. Don’t talk nonsense, little Puddock. Wasn’t it Gay that wrote the “Beggar’s Opera?” Ay! Why don’t you play Macheath? Gay!— Ay — a pleasant fellow, and his poems too. He writes — don’t you remember — he writes,
‘So comes a reckoning when the banquet’s o’er — The dreadful reckoning, and men smile no more.’
‘Puddock, throw up that window, the room’s too hot — or stay never mind; read a book, Puddock, you like it, and I’ll stroll a little along the path, and find you when I come back.’
‘Why it’s dark,’ remonstrated34 his visitor.
‘Dark? I dare say — yes, of course — very dark — but cool; the air is cool.’
He talked like a man who was thinking of something else; and Puddock thought how strangely handsome he looked, with that pale dash of horror, like King Saul when the evil spirit was upon him; and there was a terrible misgiving35 in his mind. The lines of the old ballad36 that Devereux used to sing with a sort of pathetic comicality were humming in his ear,—
‘He walked by the river, the river so clear — The river that runs through Kilkenny; His name was Captain Wade37, And he died for that fair maid.’
and so following. What could he mean by walking, at that hour, alone, by the river’s brink38? Puddock, with a sinking and flutter at his heart, unperceived, followed him down stairs, and was beside him in the street.
‘The path by the river?’ said Puddock.
‘The river — the path? Yes, Sir, the path by the river. I thought I left you up stairs,’ said Devereux, with an odd sort of sulky shrinking.
‘Why, Devereux, I may as well walk with you, if you don’t object,’ lisped Puddock.
‘But I do object, Sir,’ cried Devereux, suddenly, in a fierce high key, turning upon his little comrade. ‘What d’ye mean, Sir? You think I mean to — to drown myself — ha, ha, ha! or what the devil’s running in your head? I’m not a madman, Sir, nor you a mad-doctor. Go home, Sir — or go to — to where you will, Sir; only go your own way, and leave me mine.’
‘Ah, Devereux, you’re very quick with me,’ said Puddock, placing his plump little hand on Devereux’s arm, and looking very gently and gravely in his face.
Devereux laid his hand upon Puddock’s collar with an agitated39 sort of sneer40. But he recollected41 himself, and that diabolical42 gloom faded from his face, and he looked more like himself, and slid his cold hand silently into little Puddock’s; and so they stood for a while, by the door-step, to the admiration of Mrs. Irons — whom Devereux’s high tones had called to her window.
‘Puddock, I don’t think I’m well, and I don’t know quite what I’ve been saying. I ask your pardon. You’ve always been very good to me, Puddock. I believe — I believe you’re the only friend I have, and — Puddock, you won’t leave me.’
So up stairs they went together; and Mrs. Irons, from what she had overheard, considered herself justified43 in saying, that ‘Captain Devereux was for drowning himself in the Liffey, and would have done so only for Lieutenant44 Puddock.’ And so the report was set a-going round the garrulous45 town of Chapelizod.
As Mr. Dangerfield glided46 rapidly along the silent road towards the Brass47 Castle, the little gate of his now leafless flower-garden being already in sight, he saw a dark figure awaiting him under the bushes which overhung it. It was Mr. Irons, who came forward, without speaking, and lifted his hat respectfully, perhaps abjectly48, and paused for recognition.
‘Hey! Irons?’ said Mr. Dangerfield.
‘At your service, Sir.’
‘Well, and what says his worship?’ asked the gentleman, playfully.
‘I wanted to tell your honour that it won’t make no odds49, and I’ll do it.’
‘Of course. You’re right. It does make no odds. He’ll hang whatever you do; and I tell you ’tis well he should, and only right you should speak the truth, too —’twill make assurance doubly sure.’
‘At eight o’clock in the morning, Sir, I’ll attend you,’ said Irons, with a sort of shiver.
‘Good! and I’ll jot50 down your evidence, and we’ll drive over to Mr. Lowe’s, to Lucan, and you shall swear before him. And, you understand — I don’t forget what I promised — you’ll be a happier man every way for having done your duty; and here’s half-a-crown to spend in the Salmon51 House.’
Irons only moaned, and then said —
‘That’s all, Sir. But I couldn’t feel easy till it was off my mind.’
‘At eight o’clock I shall expect you. Good-night, Irons.’
And with his hands in his pockets he watched Irons off the ground. His visage darkened as for a while his steady gaze was turned toward Dublin. He was not quite so comfortable as he might have been.
Meanwhile Black Dillon, at Mrs. Sturk’s request, had stalked up stairs to the patient’s bed-side.
‘Had not I best send at once for Mr. Dangerfield?’ she enquired52.
‘No occasion, Ma’am,’ replied the eminent53 but slightly fuddled ‘Saw-bones,’ spitting beside him on the floor ‘until I see whether I’ll operate to-night. What’s in that jug54, Ma’am? Chicken-broth? That’ll do. Give him a spoonful. See — he swallows free enough;’ and then Black Dillon plucked up his eyelids55 with a roughness that terrified the reverential and loving Mrs. Sturk, and examined the distorted pupils.
‘You see the cast in that eye, Ma’am; there’s the pressure on the brain.’
Dillon was lecturing her upon the case as he proceeded, from habit, just as he did the students in the hospital.
‘No convulsions, Ma’am?’
‘Oh, no, Sir, thank Heaven; nothing in the least — only quiet sleep, Sir; just like that.’
‘Sleep, indeed — that’s no sleep, Ma’am. Boo-hooh! I couldn’t bawl that way in his face, Ma’am, without disturbing him, Ma’am, if it was. Now we’ll get him up a bit — there, that’s right — aisy. He was lying, Ma’am, I understand, on his back, when they found him in the park, Ma’am — so Mr. Dangerfield says — ay. Well, slip the cap off — backward — backward, you fool; that’ll do. Who plastered his head, Ma’am?’
‘Doctor Toole, Sir.’
‘Toole — Toole — h’m — I see — hey — hi — tut! ’tis the devil’s pair of fractures, Ma’am. See — nearer — d’ye see, there’s two converging56 lines — d’ye see, Ma’am?’ and he indicated their directions with the silver handle of an instrument he held in his hand, ‘and serrated at the edges, I’ll be bound.’
And he plucked off two or three strips of plaster with a quick whisk, which made poor little Mrs. Sturk wince57 and cry, ‘Oh, dear, Sir!’
‘Threpan, indeed!’ murmured Black Dillon, with a coarse sneer, ‘did they run the scalpel anywhere over the occiput, Ma’am?’
‘I— I— truly, Sir — I’m not sure,’ answered Mrs. Sturk, who did not perfectly58 understand a word he said.
The doctor’s hair had not been cut behind. Poor Mrs. Sturk, expecting his recovery every day, would not have permitted the sacrilege, and his dishevelled cue lay upon his shoulders. With his straight surgical59 scissors Black Dillon snipped60 off this sacred appendage61 before the good lady knew what he was about, and cropped the back of his head down to the closest stubble.
‘Will you send, if you please, Ma’am, for Doctor — Doctor — Thingumee?’
‘Doctor Toole?’ enquired Mrs. Sturk.
‘Doctor Toole, Ma’am; yes,’ answered the surgeon.
He himself went down to the coach at the hall-door, and in a few minutes returned with a case, and something in a cloth. From the cloth he took an apparatus62, like the cushioned back of a chair, with straps63 and buckles64 attached to it, and a sort of socket65, the back of which was open, being intended to receive the head in.
‘Now, Ma’am, we’ll prop66 him up comfortable with this, if you please.’
And having got it into place, and lowered by a screw, the cushions intended to receive his head, and got the lethargic67 trunk and skull68 of the Artillery69 doctor well-placed for his purpose, he took out a roll of sticking-plaster and a great piece of lint70, and laid them on the table, and unlocked his box, which was a large one, and took out several instruments, silver-mounted, straight and crooked71, with awful adaptations to unknown butcheries and tortures, and then out came another — the veritable trepan — resembling the homely72 bit-and-brace, but slender, sinister73, and quaint74, with a murderous sort of elegance75.
‘You may as well order in half-a-dozen clean towels, if you please, Ma’am.’
‘Oh! Doctor, you’re not going to have an operation to-night, gasped76 Mrs. Sturk, her face quite white and damp, and her clasped hands trembling.
‘Twenty to one, Ma’am,’ he replied with a slight hiccup77, ‘we’ll have nothing of the kind; but have them here, Ma’am, and some warm water for fear of accidents — though maybe ’tis only for a dhrop of punch we’ll be wanting it,’ and his huge, thirsty mouth grinned facetiously78; and just then Dr. Toole entered the room. He was confoundedly surprised when he found Black Dillon there. Though bent79 on meeting him with hauteur80 and proper reserve, on account of his damnable character, he was yet cowed by his superior knowledge, so that Tom Toole’s address was strangely chequered with pomposity81 and alarm.
Dillon’s credentials82 there was, indeed, no disputing, so they sent for Moore, the barber; and, while he was coming, they put the women out of the room, and sat in consultation.
收听单词发音 |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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medley
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| n.混合 | |
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pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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bawl
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| v.大喊大叫，大声地喊，咆哮 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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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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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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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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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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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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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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scurvily
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| 下流地，粗鄙地，无礼地 | |
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prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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miscarriages
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| 流产( miscarriage的名词复数 ) | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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sickle
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| n.镰刀 | |
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garner
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| v.收藏；取得 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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garrulous
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| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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abjectly
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| 凄惨地； 绝望地； 糟透地； 悲惨地 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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converging
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| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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wince
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| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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snipped
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| v.剪( snip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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appendage
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| n.附加物 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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lethargic
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| adj.昏睡的，懒洋洋的 | |
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68
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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69
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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70
lint
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| n.线头；绷带用麻布，皮棉 | |
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71
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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72
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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73
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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74
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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75
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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76
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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77
hiccup
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| n.打嗝 | |
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78
facetiously
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| adv.爱开玩笑地；滑稽地，爱开玩笑地 | |
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79
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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80
hauteur
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| n.傲慢 | |
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81
pomposity
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| n.浮华；虚夸；炫耀；自负 | |
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82
credentials
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| n.证明，资格，证明书，证件 | |
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