Mr. Polly’s intercourse1 with all his fellow tradesmen was tarnished2 sooner or later by some such adverse3 incident, until not a friend remained to him, and loneliness made even the shop door terrible. Shops bankrupted all about him and fresh people came and new acquaintances sprang up, but sooner or later a discord4 was inevitable5, the tension under which these badly fed, poorly housed, bored and bothered neighbours lived, made it inevitable. The mere6 fact that Mr. Polly had to see them every day, that there was no getting away from them, was in itself sufficient to make them almost unendurable to his frettingly active mind.
Among other shopkeepers in the High Street there was Chuffles, the grocer, a small, hairy, silently intent polygamist, who was given rough music by the youth of the neighbourhood because of a scandal about his wife’s sister, and who was nevertheless totally uninteresting, and Tonks, the second grocer, an old man with an older, very enfeebled wife, both submerged by piety7. Tonks went bankrupt, and was succeeded by a branch of the National Provision Company, with a young manager exactly like a fox, except that he barked. The toy and sweetstuff shop was kept by an old woman of repellent manners, and so was the little fish shop at the end of the street. The Berlin-wool shop having gone bankrupt, became a newspaper shop, then fell to a haberdasher in consumption, and finally to a stationer; the three shops at the end of the street wallowed in and out of insolvency8 in the hands of a bicycle repairer and dealer9, a gramaphone dealer, a tobacconist, a sixpenny-halfpenny bazaar-keeper, a shoemaker, a greengrocer, and the exploiter of a cinematograph peep-show — but none of them supplied friendship to Mr. Polly. These adventurers in commerce were all more or less distraught souls, driving without intelligible11 comment before the gale12 of fate. The two milkmen of Fishbourne were brothers who had quarrelled about their father’s will, and started in opposition13 to each other; one was stone deaf and no use to Mr. Polly, and the other was a sporting man with a natural dread14 of epithet15 who sided with Hinks. So it was all about him, on every hand it seemed were uncongenial people, uninteresting people, or people who conceived the deepest distrust and hostility16 towards him, a magic circle of suspicious, preoccupied17 and dehumanised humanity. So the poison in his system poisoned the world without.
(But Boomer, the wine merchant, and Tashingford, the chemist, be it noted18, were fraught19 with pride, and held themselves to be a cut above Mr. Polly. They never quarrelled with him, preferring to bear themselves from the outset as though they had already done so.)
As his internal malady20 grew upon Mr. Polly and he became more and more a battle-ground of fermenting21 foods and warring juices, he came to hate the very sight, as people say, of every one of these neighbours. There they were, every day and all the days, just the same, echoing his own stagnation22. They pained him all round the top and back of his head; they made his legs and arms weary and spiritless. The air was tasteless by reason of them. He lost his human kindliness23.
In the afternoons he would hover24 in the shop bored to death with his business and his home and Miriam, and yet afraid to go out because of his inflamed25 and magnified dislike and dread of these neighbours. He could not bring himself to go out and run the gauntlet of the observant windows and the cold estranged26 eyes.
One of his last friendships was with Rusper, the ironmonger. Rusper took over Worthington’s shop about three years after Mr. Polly opened. He was a tall, lean, nervous, convulsive man with an upturned, back-thrown, oval head, who read newspapers and the Review of Reviews assiduously, had belonged to a Literary Society somewhere once, and had some defect of the palate that at first gave his lightest word a charm and interest for Mr. Polly. It caused a peculiar27 clicking sound, as though he had something between a giggle28 and a gas-meter at work in his neck.
His literary admirations were not precisely29 Mr. Polly’s literary admirations; he thought books were written to enshrine Great Thoughts, and that art was pedagogy in fancy dress, he had no sense of phrase or epithet or richness of texture30, but still he knew there were books, he did know there were books and he was full of large windy ideas of the sort he called “Modern (kik) Thought,” and seemed needlessly and helplessly concerned about “(kik) the Welfare of the Race.”
Mr. Polly would dream about that (kik) at nights.
It seemed to that undesirable31 mind of his that Rusper’s head was the most egg-shaped head he had ever seen; the similarity weighed upon him; and when he found an argument growing warm with Rusper he would say: “Boil it some more, O’ Man; boil it harder!” or “Six minutes at least,” allusions32 Rusper could never make head or tail of, and got at last to disregard as a part of Mr. Polly’s general eccentricity33. For a long time that little tendency threw no shadow over their intercourse, but it contained within it the seeds of an ultimate disruption.
Often during the days of this friendship Mr. Polly would leave his shop and walk over to Mr. Rusper’s establishment, and stand in his doorway34 and enquire35: “Well, O’ Man, how’s the Mind of the Age working?” and get quite an hour of it, and sometimes Mr. Rusper would come into the outfitter’s shop with “Heard the (kik) latest?” and spend the rest of the morning.
Then Mr. Rusper married, and he married very inconsiderately a woman who was totally uninteresting to Mr. Polly. A coolness grew between them from the first intimation of her advent10. Mr. Polly couldn’t help thinking when he saw her that she drew her hair back from her forehead a great deal too tightly, and that her elbows were angular. His desire not to mention these things in the apt terms that welled up so richly in his mind, made him awkward in her presence, and that gave her an impression that he was hiding some guilty secret from her. She decided36 he must have a bad influence upon her husband, and she made it a point to appear whenever she heard him talking to Rusper.
One day they became a little heated about the German peril37.
“I lay (kik) they’ll invade us,” said Rusper.
“Not a bit of it. William’s not the Zerxiacious sort.”
“You’ll see, O’ Man.”
“Just what I shan’t do.”
“Before (kik) five years are out.”
“Not it.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Oh! Boil it hard!” said Mr. Polly.
Then he looked up and saw Mrs. Rusper standing38 behind the counter half hidden by a trophy39 of spades and garden shears40 and a knife-cleaning machine, and by her expression he knew instantly that she understood.
The conversation paled and presently Mr. Polly withdrew.
After that, estrangement41 increased steadily42.
Mr. Rusper ceased altogether to come over to the outfitter’s, and Mr. Polly called upon the ironmonger only with the completest air of casuality. And everything they said to each other led now to flat contradiction and raised voices. Rusper had been warned in vague and alarming terms that Mr. Polly insulted and made game of him; he couldn’t discover exactly where; and so it appeared to him now that every word of Mr. Polly’s might be an insult meriting his resentment43, meriting it none the less because it was masked and cloaked.
Soon Mr. Polly’s calls upon Mr. Rusper ceased also, and then Mr. Rusper, pursuing incomprehensible lines of thought, became afflicted44 with a specialised shortsightedness that applied45 only to Mr. Polly. He would look in other directions when Mr. Polly appeared, and his large oval face assumed an expression of conscious serenity46 and deliberate happy unawareness47 that would have maddened a far less irritable48 person than Mr. Polly. It evoked49 a strong desire to mock and ape, and produced in his throat a cough of singular scornfulness, more particularly when Mr. Rusper also assisted, with an assumed unconsciousness that was all his own.
Then one day Mr. Polly had a bicycle accident.
His bicycle was now very old, and it is one of the concomitants of a bicycle’s senility that its free wheel should one day obstinately50 cease to be free. It corresponds to that epoch51 in human decay when an old gentleman loses an incisor tooth. It happened just as Mr. Polly was approaching Mr. Rusper’s shop, and the untoward52 chance of a motor car trying to pass a waggon53 on the wrong side gave Mr. Polly no choice but to get on to the pavement and dismount. He was always accustomed to take his time and step off his left pedal at its lowest point, but the jamming of the free wheel gear made that lowest moment a transitory one, and the pedal was lifting his foot for another revolution before he realised what had happened. Before he could dismount according to his habit the pedal had to make a revolution, and before it could make a revolution Mr. Polly found himself among the various sonorous54 things with which Mr. Rusper adorned55 the front of his shop, zinc56 dustbins, household pails, lawn mowers, rakes, spades and all manner of clattering57 things. Before he got among them he had one of those agonising moments of helpless wrath58 and suspense59 that seem to last ages, in which one seems to perceive everything and think of nothing but words that are better forgotten. He sent a column of pails thundering across the doorway and dismounted with one foot in a sanitary60 dustbin amidst an enormous uproar61 of falling ironmongery.
“Put all over the place!” he cried, and found Mr. Rusper emerging from his shop with the large tranquillities of his countenance62 puckered63 to anger, like the frowns in the brow of a reefing sail. He gesticulated speechlessly for a moment.
“Kik — jer doing?” he said at last.
“Tin mantraps!” said Mr. Polly.
“Jer (kik) doing?”
“Dressing all over the pavement as though the blessed town belonged to you! Ugh!”
And Mr. Polly in attempting a dignified64 movement realised his entanglement65 with the dustbin for the first time. With a low embittering66 expression he kicked his foot about in it for a moment very noisily, and finally sent it thundering to the curb67. On its way it struck a pail or so. Then Mr. Polly picked up his bicycle and proposed to resume his homeward way. But the hand of Mr. Rusper arrested him.
“Put it (kik) all (kik kik) back (kik).”
“Put it (kik) back yourself.”
“You got (kik) put it back.”
“Get out of the (kik) way.”
Mr. Rusper laid one hand on the bicycle handle, and the other gripped Mr. Polly’s collar urgently. Whereupon Mr. Polly said: “Leggo!” and again, “D’you hear! Leggo!” and then drove his elbow with considerable force into the region of Mr. Rusper’s midriff. Whereupon Mr. Rusper, with a loud impassioned cry, resembling “Woo kik” more than any other combination of letters, released the bicycle handle, seized Mr. Polly by the cap and hair and bore his head and shoulders downward. Thereat Mr. Polly, emitting such words as everyone knows and nobody prints, butted68 his utmost into the concavity of Mr. Rusper, entwined a leg about him and after terrific moments of swaying instability, fell headlong beneath him amidst the bicycles and pails. There on the pavement these inexpert children of a pacific age, untrained in arms and uninured to violence, abandoned themselves to amateurish69 and absurd efforts to hurt and injure one another — of which the most palpable consequences were dusty backs, ruffled70 hair and torn and twisted collars. Mr. Polly, by accident, got his finger into Mr. Rusper’s mouth, and strove earnestly for some time to prolong that aperture71 in the direction of Mr. Rusper’s ear before it occurred to Mr. Rusper to bite him (and even then he didn’t bite very hard), while Mr. Rusper concentrated his mind almost entirely72 on an effort to rub Mr. Polly’s face on the pavement. (And their positions bristled73 with chances of the deadliest sort!) They didn’t from first to last draw blood.
Then it seemed to each of them that the other had become endowed with many hands and several voices and great accessions of strength. They submitted to fate and ceased to struggle. They found themselves torn apart and held up by outwardly scandalised and inwardly delighted neighbours, and invited to explain what it was all about.
“Got to (kik) puttem all back!” panted Mr. Rusper in the expert grasp of Hinks. “Merely asked him to (kik) puttem all back.”
Mr. Polly was under restraint of little Clamp, of the toy shop, who was holding his hands in a complex and uncomfortable manner that he afterwards explained to Wintershed was a combination of something romantic called “Ju-jitsu” and something else still more romantic called the “Police Grip.”
“Pails,” explained Mr. Polly in breathless fragments. “All over the road. Pails. Bungs up the street with his pails. Look at them!”
“Deliber (kik) lib (kik) liberately rode into my goods (kik). Constantly (kik) annoying me (kik)!” said Mr. Rusper. . . .
They were both tremendously earnest and reasonable in their manner. They wished everyone to regard them as responsible and intellectual men acting74 for the love of right and the enduring good of the world. They felt they must treat this business as a profound and publicly significant affair. They wanted to explain and orate and show the entire necessity of everything they had done. Mr. Polly was convinced he had never been so absolutely correct in all his life as when he planted his foot in the sanitary dustbin, and Mr. Rusper considered his clutch at Mr. Polly’s hair as the one faultless impulse in an otherwise undistinguished career. But it was clear in their minds they might easily become ridiculous if they were not careful, if for a second they stepped over the edge of the high spirit and pitiless dignity they had hitherto maintained. At any cost they perceived they must not become ridiculous.
Mr. Chuffles, the scandalous grocer, joined the throng75 about the principal combatants, mutely as became an outcast, and with a sad, distressed76 helpful expression picked up Mr. Polly’s bicycle. Gambell’s summer errand boy, moved by example, restored the dustbin and pails to their self-respect.
“’E ought —’e ought (kik) pick them up,” protested Mr. Rusper.
“What’s it all about?” said Mr. Hinks for the third time, shaking Mr. Rusper gently. ‘“As ‘e been calling you names?”
“Simply ran into his pails — as anyone might,” said Mr. Polly, “and out he comes and scrags me!”
“(Kik) Assault!” said Mr. Rusper.
“He assaulted me,” said Mr. Polly.
“Jumped (kik) into my dus’bin!” said Mr. Rusper. “That assault? Or isn’t it?”
“You better drop it,” said Mr. Hinks.
“Great pity they can’t be’ave better, both of ’em,” said Mr. Chuffles, glad for once to find himself morally unassailable.
“Anyone see it begin?” said Mr. Wintershed.
“I was in the shop,” said Mrs. Rusper suddenly from the doorstep, piercing the little group of men and boys with the sharp horror of an unexpected woman’s voice. “If a witness is wanted I suppose I’ve got a tongue. I suppose I got a voice in seeing my own ‘usband injured. My husband went out and spoke77 to Mr. Polly, who was jumping off his bicycle all among our pails and things, and immediately ‘e butted him in the stomach — immediately — most savagely78 — butted him. Just after his dinner too and him far from strong. I could have screamed. But Rusper caught hold of him right away, I will say that for Rusper. . . . ”
“I’m going,” said Mr. Polly suddenly, releasing himself from the Anglo-Japanese grip and holding out his hands for his bicycle.
“Teach you (kik) to leave things alone,” said Mr. Rusper with an air of one who has given a lesson.
The testimony79 of Mrs. Rusper continued relentlessly80 in the background.
“You’ll hear of me through a summons,” said Mr. Polly, preparing to wheel his bicycle.
“(Kik) Me too,” said Mr. Rusper.
Someone handed Mr. Polly a collar. “This yours?”
Mr. Polly investigated his neck. “I suppose it is. Anyone seen a tie?”
A small boy produced a grimy strip of spotted82 blue silk.
“Human life isn’t safe with you,” said Mr. Polly as a parting shot.
“(Kik) Yours isn’t,” said Mr. Rusper. . . .
And they got small satisfaction out of the Bench, which refused altogether to perceive the relentless81 correctitude of the behaviour of either party, and reproved the eagerness of Mrs. Rusper — speaking to her gently, firmly but exasperatingly83 as “My Good Woman” and telling her to “Answer the Question! Answer the Question!”
“Seems a Pity,” said the chairman, when binding84 them over to keep the peace, “you can’t behave like Respectable Tradesmen. Seems a Great Pity. Bad Example to the Young and all that. Don’t do any Good to the town, don’t do any Good to yourselves, don’t do any manner of Good, to have all the Tradesmen in the Place scrapping85 about the Pavement of an Afternoon. Think we’re letting you off very easily this time, and hope it will be a Warning to you. Don’t expect Men of your Position to come up before us. Very Regrettable Affair. Eh?”
He addressed the latter enquiry to his two colleagues.
“Exactly, exactly,” said the colleague to the right.
“Er —(kik),” said Mr. Rusper.
收听单词发音 |
1
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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2
tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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3
adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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4
discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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5
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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7
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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insolvency
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| n.无力偿付，破产 | |
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9
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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13
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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14
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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16
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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18
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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19
fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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21
fermenting
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| v.（使）发酵( ferment的现在分词 )；（使）激动；骚动；骚扰 | |
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22
stagnation
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| n. 停滞 | |
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kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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24
hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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25
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
estranged
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| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
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27
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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28
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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29
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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30
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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31
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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32
allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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33
eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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34
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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35
enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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36
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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trophy
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| n.优胜旗，奖品，奖杯，战胜品，纪念品 | |
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40
shears
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| n.大剪刀 | |
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estrangement
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| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
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42
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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43
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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46
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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47
unawareness
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| 不知觉；不察觉；不意；不留神 | |
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48
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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49
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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50
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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51
epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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52
untoward
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| adj.不利的，不幸的，困难重重的 | |
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53
waggon
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| n.运货马车，运货车；敞篷车箱 | |
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54
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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55
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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56
zinc
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| n.锌；vt.在...上镀锌 | |
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57
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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58
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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59
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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60
sanitary
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| adj.卫生方面的，卫生的，清洁的，卫生的 | |
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61
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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62
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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entanglement
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| n.纠缠，牵累 | |
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embittering
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的现在分词 ) | |
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67
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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68
butted
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| 对接的 | |
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amateurish
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| n.业余爱好的，不熟练的 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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71
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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72
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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74
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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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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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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relentlessly
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| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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82
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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83
exasperatingly
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84
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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85
scrapping
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| 刮，切除坯体余泥 | |
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