The orchestra had just finished playing a piece that everyone in Paris was singing that year. It was a gay jigging8 little tune9 that Mistinguette had made famous; its name was “Ca, c’est Paris,” and one heard it everywhere. One heard lonely wayfarers10 whistling it as they walked home late at night through the silent narrow streets of the Latin Quarter, and one heard it hummed by taxi-drivers, waiters, and by women in cafés. It was played constantly to the tune of flutes11 and violins by dance orchestras in the night-clubs of Montmartre and Montparnasse. And, accompanied by the swelling12 rhythms of the accordion13, one heard it at big dance-halls like the Bal Bullier, and in the little dives and stews14 and café-brothel-dancing places along noisome15 alleyways near the markets and the Boulevard de Sébastopol.
In spite of its gay jigging lilt, that tune had a kind of mournful fatality16. It was one of those songs which seem to evoke17 perfectly18 — it is impossible to know why — the whole colour, life, and fragrance of a place and time as nothing else on earth can do. For the boy, that song would haunt him ever after with the image of Paris and of his life that year, with the memory of Starwick, Elinor, and Ann.
The song had for him the fatality of something priceless, irrecoverably lost, full of that bitter joy and anguish19 we can feel at twenty-four, when the knowledge of man’s brevity first comes to us, when we first know ruin and defeat, when we first understand what we have never known before: that for us, as for every other man alive, all passes, all is lost, all melts before our grasp like smoke; when we know that the moment of beauty carries in it the seeds of its own instant death, that love is gone almost before we have it, that youth is gone before we know it, and that, like every other man, we must grow old and die.
The orchestra had finished playing this tune and the dancers were going to their tables from the polished little square of floor; in a moment Starwick called the leader of the orchestra over to the table and asked him to play Starwick’s favourite song. This was a piece called “My Chile Bon Bon”; it was not new, Starwick had first heard it several years before in Boston, but like the other piece this tune was pregnant with the mournful fatality of a place and period; in its grotesque20 words and haunting melody there was the sense of something irrevocable, an utter surrender and a deliberate loss, a consciousness of doom21. These two pieces together evoked22 the whole image and quality of that year, and of the life of these four people: for Starwick, in fact, this “Chile Bon Bon” song somehow perfectly expressed the complete fatality that had now seized his life, the sensual inertia23 of his will.
The orchestra leader nodded smilingly when Starwick asked him to play the song, went back and conferred with his musicians for a moment, and, himself taking up a violin, began to play. As the orchestra played, the leader walked toward their table, and, bending and swaying with the infinite ductile24 grace which a violin seems to give to all its performers, he stood facing the two women, seeming to offer up the wailing25, hauntingly mournful and exciting music as a kind of devotion to their loveliness.
Elinor, tapping the tune out with her fingers on the table-cloth, hummed the words lightly, absently, under her breath; Ann sat quietly, darkly, sullenly27 attentive28; Starwick, at one end of the table, sat turned away, his legs indolently crossed, his ruddy face flushed with emotion, his eyes fixed29 in a blind stare, and a little wet.
Once, while the piece was being played, Starwick’s pleasant ruddy face was contorted again by the old bestial30 grimace31 of nameless anguish and bewilderment which Eugene had seen so many times before, and in which the sense of tragic32 defeat, frustration33, the premonition of impending34 ruin was legible.
When the orchestra leader had finished with the tune, Starwick turned wearily, thrust his arm indolently across the table towards Ann and wiggling his fingers languidly and a trifle impatiently, said quietly:
“Give me some money.”
She flushed a little, opened her purse, and said sullenly:
“How much do you want?”
The weary impatience35 of his manner became more evident, he wiggled his languid fingers in a more peremptory36 command, and, burbling a little with laughter at sight of her sullen26 face, he said in a low tone of avaricious37 humour:
“Give, give, give. . . . Money, money, money,” he said in a low gloating tone, and burbled again, with a rich welling of humour, as he looked at her.
Red in the face, she flung a wad of banknotes down upon the table with almost vicious force; he accepted them languidly, stripped off 300 franc notes and handed them indolently to the orchestra leader, who responded with a bow eloquent38 with adoration39; and then, without pausing to count them, Starwick thrust the remainder carelessly in his pocket.
“Ann!” he said reproachfully. “I am VERY hurt!” He paused a moment; the flow and burble of soft laughter came quickly, flushing his ruddy face, and he continued as before, with a mock gravity of reproachful humour.
“I had hoped —” his shoulders trembled slightly —“that by this time your FINER nature —” he trembled again with secret merriment —“your FINER nature would be ready to reveal itself.”
“My finer nature be damned!” Ann said angrily. “Whether you like it or not, I think it’s disgraceful the way you fling money around! Three hundred francs to a man for playing that damned song! And you’ve done the same thing at least a dozen times! God, I’m sick of hearing about your ‘Chile Bon Bon’!” she concluded bitterly. “I wish the damned thing had never been written.”
“Ann!” again the soft mockery of sounded reproach. “And this is the way you repay us, after all we’ve done for you! It’s not that I’m angry but I’m VERY, VERY hurt,” he said gently. “I really am, you know.”
“Ah-h!” She made a sudden exasperated40 movement as if she was going to push the table away from her and get up, and then said with angry warning: “Now, look here, Frank, don’t you start that again about how much you’ve done for me. Done for me!” she said furiously. “Done for me!” She laughed, short and hard, with angry exasperation41, and was unable to find words to continue.
Starwick’s burble of soft laughter answered her:
“I KNOW!” he said, his face reddening a little as he spoke42 —“But, after all, you ARE a little TIGHT, Ann”— his shoulders trembled slightly, and his ruddy face grew deeper with its hue of humour. “I think,” he said gently, and paused again, trembling with quiet laughter —“I think it may be what is known as the Beacon43 Hill influence. And really,” he continued seriously, looking at her with grave eyes, “you really ought to try to get it out of you.”
“Now, Frank,” cried Ann angrily, half rising from the table, “if you start that again about my being stingy —” She sat down again abruptly44, and burst out with bitter resentment45, “I’m not stingy and you know it! . . . It’s not that I mind spending the money, giving it to you when I’ve got it. . . . It’s only that I think everyone ought to try to bear his own share. . . . If you think that’s my New England stinginess you’re welcome to your opinion. . . . But I’ve always felt that way and always will! . . . Stingy!” she muttered, “I’m not. . . . I’m just tired of being the goat all the time. . . . It seems to me the rest of you ought to share in the expense some time!”
“But not at ALL!” cried Starwick in a tone of astonished protest. “I can’t see that that makes the SLIGHTEST difference,” he went on gently. “After all, Ann, it’s not as if we were four old maids from Boston doing the grand tour and putting down every cent we spend in a mutual46 account-book,” he said a trifle sarcastically47. “It’s not that kind of thing at all. When four people know each other the way we do, the last thing in the world that could POSSIBLY be of value is money. What belongs to one belongs to all. Really,” he said a trifle impatiently, “I should think you’d understand that. It’s QUITE astonishing to see a person of your quality with such a material — rather GRASPING— view of money. I shouldn’t think it would make the SLIGHTEST difference to you. You really ought to get it out of your system, Ann,” he said quietly. “You really must. Because you ARE a GRAND person — you really are, you know.”
She flushed, and then muttered sullenly:
“Ah! Grand person my eye! I’ve heard all that before! You can’t get around it that way!”
“But you ARE!” he said, with earnest insistence48. “You are a VERY grand person — that’s what makes the whole thing such a pity.”
She flushed again, and then sat staring at the table in sullen embarrassment49.
“And, Ann,” said Starwick gently, beginning to burble with his soft flow of wicked laughter, “you are really VERY beautiful in that red dress —” his sensuous50 mannered tone trembled again with its burble of wicked humour —“and VERY seductive — and VERY,” his shoulders trembled and his face trembled as he spoke —“You are really QUITE voluptuous,” he said with sensual relish51, and suddenly choked with laughter. When he had composed himself, he turned his still laughter-reddened face towards Eugene, and said earnestly: “It’s QUITE astonishing! She really is, you know! She’s GLORIOUSLY beautiful!”
“Frank!” she looked at him for a moment with an expression of baffled exasperation. Then, suddenly she laughed her short and angry laugh: “God!” she cried sarcastically. “It’s a high price to pay for compliments, isn’t it?”
But that laugh, short and angry as it was, had made radiant, as it always did, her dark and noble beauty. Instantly her face had been lifted, transfigured from its customary expression of dark and almost heavy sullenness52, her cheeks, which in repose53 had the pendulous54 sagging55 quality of a plump child, were suffused56 with rose, her sweet red mouth and white teeth suddenly shone with a radiant and lovely smile, and Eugene noticed now, as he had begun to notice, that her grey eyes when she looked at Starwick were no longer hard and angry, but smoky, luminous57 with a depthless tenderness.
“You ARE,” Starwick concluded quietly, seriously, his pleasant face still a trifle flushed with laughter. “You are one of the most GLORIOUSLY beautiful creatures that ever lived.”
What he said was the simple truth. The girl’s beauty that night was almost unbelievable. She had put on a new evening dress which had been made for her by a famous designer. The dress was a glorious red, that seemed almost to float with an aerial buoyancy of filmy gauze; no dress in the world could have suited her dark beauty or revealed the noble proportions of her figure half so well. Her hair, which was black, coarse, and fragrant58, was parted simply in the middle: Eugene noted59 that there were already a few streaks60 of coarse grey in it, but her face had the dignity of her grand and honest character — the sullen plumpness of a child and the radiant sudden sweetness and happiness of her smile, combined.
And in every other respect Ann showed this strange and lovely union of delicacy61 and grandeur62, of the child and the woman. Her hands were long, brown, and narrow, the fingers long and delicate, the bones as fine and small as a bird’s, and yet they were strong, sensitive, able-looking hands as well. Her arms were long and slender, as firm and delicate as a young girl’s, but Eugene noted that her breasts were not round and firm, but the long heavy sloping breasts of a big woman. When she got up to dance with Starwick she topped him by a head, and yet, radiant with a joy and happiness she had never known before, she seemed to float there in his arms, an Amazonian figure, great of thigh63 and limb and breast, and a creature of a loveliness as delicate and radiant as a child’s.
They danced superbly together: in deference64 to Starwick, the orchestra played his “Chile Bon Bon” song again; when they returned to the table Starwick’s ruddy face was flushed with the emotion the song always aroused in him, his eyes looked wet, and in a high, passionate65, almost womanish tone, he cried to Eugene:
“God! Isn’t it grand! Isn’t it simply superb! It’s one of the great songs of the world; it really is, you know! The thing has the same quality as a great primitive66 — the same quality as a primitive Apollo or Cimabue’s Madonna, in the Louvre. Christ!” he cried in a high womanish tone, “the whole thing’s there — it really is! I think it’s the greatest song that was ever written!”
He poured out a glass of champagne67, cold and sparkling, and drank it thirstily, his eyes wet, his face flushed deeply with his feeling.
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1
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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4
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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jigging
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| n.跳汰选，簸选v.（使）上下急动( jig的现在分词 ) | |
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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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wayfarers
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| n.旅人，（尤指）徒步旅行者( wayfarer的名词复数 ) | |
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11
flutes
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| 长笛( flute的名词复数 )； 细长香槟杯（形似长笛） | |
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12
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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accordion
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| n.手风琴；adj.可折叠的 | |
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14
stews
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| n.炖煮的菜肴( stew的名词复数 )；烦恼，焦虑v.炖( stew的第三人称单数 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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15
noisome
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| adj.有害的，可厌的 | |
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fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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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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19
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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20
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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22
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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23
inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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24
ductile
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| adj.易延展的，柔软的 | |
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25
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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26
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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28
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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30
bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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31
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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32
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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34
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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avaricious
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| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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40
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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42
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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43
beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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44
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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45
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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46
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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47
sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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48
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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49
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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50
sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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51
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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52
sullenness
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| n. 愠怒, 沉闷, 情绪消沉 | |
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53
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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54
pendulous
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| adj.下垂的；摆动的 | |
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55
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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56
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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58
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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59
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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60
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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61
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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62
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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64
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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65
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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66
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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