“Hole!” said Mr. Polly, and then for a change, and with greatly increased emphasis: “Ole!” He paused, and then broke out with one of his private and peculiar1 idioms. “Oh! Beastly Silly Wheeze2 of a Hole!”
He was sitting on a stile between two threadbare looking fields, and suffering acutely from indigestion.
He suffered from indigestion now nearly every afternoon in his life, but as he lacked introspection he projected the associated discomfort3 upon the world. Every afternoon he discovered afresh that life as a whole and every aspect of life that presented itself was “beastly.” And this afternoon, lured4 by the delusive5 blueness of a sky that was blue because the wind was in the east, he had come out in the hope of snatching something of the joyousness6 of spring. The mysterious alchemy of mind and body refused, however, to permit any joyousness whatever in the spring.
He had had a little difficulty in finding his cap before he came out. He wanted his cap — the new golf cap — and Mrs. Polly must needs fish out his old soft brown felt hat. “’Ere’s your ‘at,” she said in a tone of insincere encouragement.
He had been routing among the piled newspapers under the kitchen dresser, and had turned quite hopefully and taken the thing. He put it on. But it didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right. He put a trembling hand upon the crown of the thing and pressed it on his head, and tried it askew7 to the right and then askew to the left.
Then the full sense of the indignity8 offered him came home to him. The hat masked the upper sinister9 quarter of his face, and he spoke10 with a wrathful eye regarding his wife from under the brim. In a voice thick with fury he said: “I s’pose you’d like me to wear that silly Mud Pie for ever, eh? I tell you I won’t. I’m sick of it. I’m pretty near sick of everything, comes to that. . . . Hat!”
He clutched it with quivering fingers. “Hat!” he repeated. Then he flung it to the ground, and kicked it with extraordinary fury across the kitchen. It flew up against the door and dropped to the ground with its ribbon band half off.
“Shan’t go out!” he said, and sticking his hands into his jacket pockets discovered the missing cap in the right one.
There was nothing for it but to go straight upstairs without a word, and out, slamming the shop door hard.
“Beauty!” said Mrs. Polly at last to a tremendous silence, picking up and dusting the rejected headdress. “Tantrums,” she added. “I ‘aven’t patience.” And moving with the slow reluctance11 of a deeply offended woman, she began to pile together the simple apparatus12 of their recent meal, for transportation to the scullery sink.
The repast she had prepared for him did not seem to her to justify13 his ingratitude14. There had been the cold pork from Sunday and some nice cold potatoes, and Rashdall’s Mixed Pickles15, of which he was inordinately16 fond. He had eaten three gherkins, two onions, a small cauliflower head and several capers17 with every appearance of appetite, and indeed with avidity; and then there had been cold suet pudding to follow, with treacle18, and then a nice bit of cheese. It was the pale, hard sort of cheese he liked; red cheese he declared was indigestible. He had also had three big slices of greyish baker’s bread, and had drunk the best part of the jugful19 of beer. . . . But there seems to be no pleasing some people.
“Tantrums!” said Mrs. Polly at the sink, struggling with the mustard on his plate and expressing the only solution of the problem that occurred to her.
And Mr. Polly sat on the stile and hated the whole scheme of life — which was at once excessive and inadequate20 as a solution. He hated Foxbourne, he hated Foxbourne High Street, he hated his shop and his wife and his neighbours — every blessed neighbour — and with indescribable bitterness he hated himself.
“Why did I ever get in this silly Hole?” he said. “Why did I ever?”
He sat on the stile, and looked with eyes that seemed blurred21 with impalpable flaws at a world in which even the spring buds were wilted22, the sunlight metallic23 and the shadows mixed with blue-black ink.
To the moralist I know he might have served as a figure of sinful discontent, but that is because it is the habit of moralists to ignore material circumstances,— if indeed one may speak of a recent meal as a circumstance,— with Mr. Polly circum. Drink, indeed, our teachers will criticise24 nowadays both as regards quantity and quality, but neither church nor state nor school will raise a warning finger between a man and his hunger and his wife’s catering25. So on nearly every day in his life Mr. Polly fell into a violent rage and hatred26 against the outer world in the afternoon, and never suspected that it was this inner world to which I am with such masterly delicacy27 alluding28, that was thus reflecting its sinister disorder29 upon the things without. It is a pity that some human beings are not more transparent30. If Mr. Polly, for example, had been transparent or even passably translucent31, then perhaps he might have realised from the Laocoon struggle he would have glimpsed, that indeed he was not so much a human being as a civil war.
Wonderful things must have been going on inside Mr. Polly. Oh! wonderful things. It must have been like a badly managed industrial city during a period of depression; agitators32, acts of violence, strikes, the forces of law and order doing their best, rushings to and fro, upheavals33, the Marseillaise, tumbrils, the rumble34 and the thunder of the tumbrils. . . .
I do not know why the east wind aggravates35 life to unhealthy people. It made Mr. Polly’s teeth seem loose in his head, and his skin feel like a misfit, and his hair a dry, stringy exasperation36. . . .
Why cannot doctors give us an antidote37 to the east wind?
“Never have the sense to get your hair cut till it’s too long,” said Mr. Polly catching38 sight of his shadow, “you blighted39, degenerated40 Paintbrush! Ugh!” and he flattened41 down the projecting tails with an urgent hand.
1 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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2 wheeze | |
n.喘息声,气喘声;v.喘息着说 | |
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3 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
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4 lured | |
吸引,引诱(lure的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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5 delusive | |
adj.欺骗的,妄想的 | |
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6 joyousness | |
快乐,使人喜悦 | |
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7 askew | |
adv.斜地;adj.歪斜的 | |
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8 indignity | |
n.侮辱,伤害尊严,轻蔑 | |
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9 sinister | |
adj.不吉利的,凶恶的,左边的 | |
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10 spoke | |
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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11 reluctance | |
n.厌恶,讨厌,勉强,不情愿 | |
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12 apparatus | |
n.装置,器械;器具,设备 | |
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13 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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14 ingratitude | |
n.忘恩负义 | |
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15 pickles | |
n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 );处于困境;遇到麻烦;菜酱 | |
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16 inordinately | |
adv.无度地,非常地 | |
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17 capers | |
n.开玩笑( caper的名词复数 );刺山柑v.跳跃,雀跃( caper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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18 treacle | |
n.糖蜜 | |
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19 jugful | |
一壶的份量 | |
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20 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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21 blurred | |
v.(使)变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 );(使)难以区分;模模糊糊;迷离 | |
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22 wilted | |
(使)凋谢,枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23 metallic | |
adj.金属的;金属制的;含金属的;产金属的;像金属的 | |
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24 criticise | |
v.批评,评论;非难 | |
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25 catering | |
n. 给养 | |
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26 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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27 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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28 alluding | |
提及,暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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29 disorder | |
n.紊乱,混乱;骚动,骚乱;疾病,失调 | |
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30 transparent | |
adj.明显的,无疑的;透明的 | |
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31 translucent | |
adj.半透明的;透明的 | |
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32 agitators | |
n.(尤指政治变革的)鼓动者( agitator的名词复数 );煽动者;搅拌器;搅拌机 | |
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33 upheavals | |
突然的巨变( upheaval的名词复数 ); 大动荡; 大变动; 胀起 | |
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34 rumble | |
n.隆隆声;吵嚷;v.隆隆响;低沉地说 | |
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35 aggravates | |
使恶化( aggravate的第三人称单数 ); 使更严重; 激怒; 使恼火 | |
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36 exasperation | |
n.愤慨 | |
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37 antidote | |
n.解毒药,解毒剂 | |
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38 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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39 blighted | |
adj.枯萎的,摧毁的 | |
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40 degenerated | |
衰退,堕落,退化( degenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41 flattened | |
[医](水)平扁的,弄平的 | |
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