IVictoria, breathing in hot choking yellow dust, was unfavourably im-pressed by Baghdad. From the Airport to the Tio Hotel, her ears had beenassailed by continuous and incessant1 noise. Horns of cars blaring withmaddening persistence2, voices shouting, whistles blowing, then moredeafening senseless blaring of motor horns. Added to the loud incessantnoises of the street was a small thin trickle3 of continuous sound which wasMrs. Hamilton Clipp talking.
Victoria arrived at the Tio Hotel in a dazed condition.
A small alleyway led back from the fanfare4 of Rashid Street towards theTigris. A short flight of steps to go up and there at the entrance of the hotelthey were greeted by a very stout5 young man with a beaming smile who,metaphorically at least, gathered them to his heart. This, Victoriagathered, was Marcus—or more correctly Mr. Tio, the owner of the TioHotel.
His words of welcome were interrupted by shouted orders to variousunderlings regarding the disposal of their baggage.
“And here you are, once more, Mrs. Clipp—but your arm—why is it inthat funny stuff?—(You fools, do not carry that with the strap6! Imbeciles!
Don’t trail that coat!) — But, my dear — what a day to arrive — never, Ithought, would the plane land. It went round and round and round. Mar-cus, I said to myself—it is not you that will travel by planes—all this hurry,what does it matter?—And you have brought a young lady with you—it isnice always to see a new young lady in Baghdad—why did not Mr. Har-rison come down to meet you—I expected him yesterday—but, my dear,you must have a drink at once.”
Now, somewhat dazed, Victoria, her head reeling slightly under the ef-fect of a double whisky authoritatively7 pressed upon her by Marcus, wasstanding in a high whitewashed8 room containing a large brass9 bedstead, avery sophisticated dressing10 table of newest French design, an aged11 Vic-torian wardrobe, and two vivid plush chairs. Her modest baggage reposedat her feet and a very old man with a yellow face and white whiskers hadgrinned and nodded at her as he placed towels in the bathroom and askedher if she would like the water made hot for a bath.
“How long would it take?”
“Twenty minutes, half an hour. I go and do it now.”
With a fatherly smile he withdrew. Victoria sat down on the bed andpassed an experimental hand over her hair. It felt clogged12 with dust andher face was sore and gritty. She looked at herself in the glass. The dusthad changed her hair from black to a strange reddish brown. She pulledaside a corner of the curtain and looked out on to a wide balcony whichgave on the river. But there was nothing to be seen of the Tigris but a thickyellow haze13. A prey14 to deep depression, Victoria said to herself: “What ahateful place.”
Then rousing herself, she stepped across the landing and tapped on Mrs.
Clipp’s door. Prolonged and active ministrations would be required of herhere before she could attend to her own cleansing15 and rehabilitation16.
II
After a bath, lunch and a prolonged nap, Victoria stepped out from herbedroom onto the balcony and gazed with approval across the Tigris. Thedust storm had subsided17. Instead of a yellow haze, a pale clear light wasappearing. Across the river was a delicate silhouette18 of palm trees and ir-regularly placed houses.
Voices came up to Victoria from the garden below. She stepped to theedge of the balcony and looked over.
Mrs. Hamilton Clipp, that indefatigable19 talker and friendly soul, hadstruck up an acquaintanceship with an Englishwoman — one of thoseweather-beaten Englishwomen of indeterminate age who can always befound in any foreign city.
“—and whatever I’d have done without her, I really don’t know,” Mrs.
Clipp was saying. “She’s just the sweetest girl you can imagine. And verywell connected. A niece of the Bishop20 of Llangow.”
“Bishop of who?”
“Why, Llangow, I think it was.”
“Nonsense, there’s no such person,” said the other.
Victoria frowned. She recognized the type of County Englishwoman whois unlikely to be taken in by the mention of spurious Bishops21.
“Why, then, perhaps I got the name wrong,” Mrs. Clipp said doubtfully.
“But,” she resumed, “she certainly is a very charming and competentgirl.”
The other said “Ha!” in a noncommittal manner.
Victoria resolved to give this lady as wide a berth22 as possible. Somethingtold her that inventing stories to satisfy that kind of woman was no easyjob.
Victoria went back into her room, sat on the bed, and gave herself up tospeculation on her present position.
She was staying at the Tio Hotel, which was, she was fairly sure, not atall inexpensive. She had four pounds seventeen shillings in her posses-sion. She had eaten a hearty23 lunch for which she had not yet paid and forwhich Mrs. Clipp was under no obligation to pay. Travelling expenses toBaghdad were what Mrs. Clipp had offered. The bargain was completed.
Victoria had got to Baghdad. Mrs. Hamilton Clipp had received the skilledattention of a Bishop’s niece, an ex-hospital nurse, and competent secret-ary. All that was over, to the mutual24 satisfaction of both parties. Mrs.
Hamilton Clipp would depart on the evening train to Kirkuk—and thatwas that. Victoria toyed hopefully with the idea that Mrs. Clipp mightpress upon her a parting present in the form of hard cash, but abandonedit reluctantly as unlikely. Mrs. Clipp could have no idea that Victoria wasin really dire25 financial straits.
What then must Victoria do? The answer came immediately. Find Ed-ward, of course.
With a sense of annoyance26 she realized that she was quite unaware27 ofEdward’s last name. Edward—Baghdad. Very much, Victoria reflected, likethe Saracen maid who arrived in En gland28 knowing only the name of herlover “Gilbert” and “England.” A romantic story—but certainly inconveni-ent. True that in En gland at the time of the Crusades, nobody, Victoriathought, had had any surname at all. On the other hand England was lar-ger than Baghdad. Still, En gland was sparsely29 populated then.
Victoria wrenched30 her thoughts away from these interesting specula-tions and returned to hard facts. She must find Edward immediately andEdward must find her a job. Also immediately.
She did not know Edward’s last name, but he had come to Baghdad asthe secretary of a Dr. Rathbone and presumably Dr. Rathbone was a manof importance.
Victoria powdered her nose and patted her hair and started down thestairs in search of information.
The beaming Marcus, passing through the hall of his establishment,hailed her with delight.
“Ah, it is Miss Jones, you will come with me and have a drink, will younot, my dear? I like very much English ladies. All the English ladies inBaghdad, they are my friends. Everyone is very happy in my hotel. Come,we will go into the bar.”
Victoria, not at all averse31 to free hospitality, consented gladly.
III
Sitting on a stool and drinking gin, she began her search for informa-tion.
“Do you know a Dr. Rathbone who has just come to Baghdad?” sheasked.
“I know everyone in Baghdad,” said Marcus Tio joyfully32. “And every-body knows Marcus. That is true, what I am telling you. Oh! I have manymany friends.”
“I’m sure you have,” said Victoria. “Do you know Dr. Rathbone?”
“Last week I have the Air Marshal commanding all Middle East passingthrough. He says to me, ‘Marcus, you villain33, I haven’t seen you since ’46.
You haven’t grown any thinner.’ Oh he is very nice man. I like him verymuch.”
“What about Dr. Rathbone? Is he a nice man?”
“I like, you know, people who can enjoy themselves. I do not like sourfaces. I like people to be gay and young and charming—like you. He saysto me, that Air Marshal, ‘Marcus, you like too much the women.’ But I sayto him: ‘No, my trouble is I like too much Marcus…’” Marcus roared withlaughter, breaking off to call out, “Jesus—Jesus!”
Victoria looked startled, but it appeared that Jesus was the barman’sChristian name. Victoria felt again that the East was an odd place.
“Another gin and orange, and whisky,” Marcus commanded.
“I don’t think I—”
“Yes, yes, you will—they are very very weak.”
“About Dr. Rathbone,” persisted Victoria.
“That Mrs. Hamilton Clipp—what an odd name—with whom you arrive,she is American—is she not? I like also American people but I like Englishbest. American peoples, they look always very worried. But sometimes,yes, they are good sports. Mr. Summers—you know him?—he drink somuch when he come to Baghdad, he go to sleep for three days and notwake up. It is too much that. It is not nice.”
“Please, do help me,” said Victoria.
Marcus looked surprised.
“But of course I help you. I always help my friends. You tell me whatyou want—and at once it shall be done. Special steak—or turkey cookedvery nice with rice and raisins34 and herbs—or little baby chickens.”
“I don’t want baby chickens,” said Victoria. “At least not now,” she ad-ded prudently35. “I want to find this Dr. Rathbone. Dr. Rathbone. He’s justarrived in Baghdad. With a—with a—secretary.”
“I do not know,” said Marcus. “He does not stay at the Tio.”
The implication was clearly that anyone who did not stay at the Tio didnot exist for Marcus.
“But there are other hotels,” persisted Victoria, “or perhaps he has ahouse?”
“Oh yes, there are other hotels. Babylonian Palace, Sennacherib,Zobeide Hotel. They are good hotels, yes, but they are not like the Tio.”
“I’m sure they’re not,” Victoria assured him. “But you don’t know if Dr.
Rathbone is staying at one of them? There is some kind of society he runs—something to do with culture—and books.”
Marcus became quite serious at the mention of culture.
“It is what we need,” he said. “There must be much culture. Art and mu-sic, it is very nice, very nice indeed. I like violin sonatas36 myself if it is notvery long.”
Whilst thoroughly37 agreeing with him, especially in regard to the end ofthe speech, Victoria realized that she was not getting any nearer to her ob-jective. Conversation with Marcus was, she thought, most entertaining,and Marcus was a charming person in his childlike enthusiasm for life,but conversation with him reminded her of Alice in Wonderland’s endeav-ours to find a path that led to the hill. Every topic found them returning tothe point of departure—Marcus!
She refused another drink and rose sadly to her feet. She felt slightlygiddy. The cocktails38 had been anything but weak. She went out from thebar on to the terrace outside and stood by the railing looking across theriver, when somebody spoke39 from behind her.
“Excuse me, but you’d better go and put a coat on. Dare say it seems likesummer to you coming out from England, but it gets very cold about sun-down.”
It was the Englishwoman who had been talking to Mrs. Clipp earlier.
She had the hoarse40 voice of one who is in the habit of training and callingto sporting dogs. She wore a fur coat, had a rug over her knees and wassipping a whisky and soda41.
“Oh thank you,” said Victoria and was about to escape hurriedly whenher intentions were defeated.
“I must introduce myself. I’m Mrs. Cardew Trench42.” (The implicationwas clearly: one of the Cardew Trenches43.) “I believe you arrived with Mrs.
—what’s her name—Hamilton Clipp.”
“Yes,” said Victoria, “I did.”
“She told me you were the niece of the Bishop of Llangow.”
Victoria rallied.
“Did she really?” she inquired with the correct trace of light amusement.
“Got it wrong, I suppose?”
Victoria smiled.
“Americans are bound to get some of our names wrong. It does sound alittle like Llangow. My uncle,” said Victoria improvising44 rapidly, “is theBishop of Languao?”
“Languao?”
“Yes—in the Pacific Archipelago. He’s a Colonial Bishop, of course.”
“Oh, a Colonial Bishop,” said Mrs. Cardew Trench, her voice falling atleast three semitones.
As Victoria had anticipated: Mrs. Cardew Trench was magnificently un-aware of Colonial Bishops.
“That explains it,” she added.
Victoria thought with pride that it explained it very well for a spur ofthe moment plunge45!
“And what are you doing out here?” asked Mrs. Cardew Trench with thatinexorable geniality46 that conceals47 natural curiosity of disposition48.
“Looking for a young man I talked to for a few moments in a publicsquare in London,” was hardly an answer that Victoria could give. Shesaid, remembering the newspaper paragraph she had read, and her state-ment to Mrs. Clipp:
“I’m joining my uncle, Dr. Pauncefoot Jones.”
“Oh, so that’s who you are.” Mrs. Cardew Trench was clearly delightedat having “placed” Victoria. “He’s a charming little man, though a bit ab-sentminded—still I suppose that’s only to be expected. Heard him lecturelast year in London—excellent delivery—couldn’t understand a word ofwhat it was all about, though. Yes, he passed through Baghdad about afortnight ago. I think he mentioned some girls were coming out later inthe season.”
Hurriedly, having established her status, Victoria chipped in with aquestion.
“Do you know if Dr. Rathbone is out here?” she asked.
“Just come out,” said Mrs. Cardew Trench. “I believe they’ve asked himto give a lecture at the Institute next Thursday. On ‘World Relationshipsand Brotherhood’—or something like that. All nonsense if you ask me. Themore you try to get people together, the more suspicious they get of eachother. All this poetry and music and translating Shakespeare andWordsworth into Arabic and Chinese and Hindustani. ‘A primrose49 by theriver’s brim,’ etc…what’s the good of that to people who’ve never seen aprimrose?”
“Where is he staying, do you know?”
“At the Babylonian Palace Hotel, I believe. But his headquarters are upnear the Museum. The Olive Branch—ridiculous name. Full of young wo-men in slacks with unwashed necks and spectacles.”
“I know his secretary slightly,” said Victoria.
“Oh yes, whatshisname Edward Thingummy—nice boy—too good forthat long-haired racket—did well in the war, I hear. Still a job’s a job, Isuppose. Nice- looking boy — those earnest young women are quitefluttered by him, I fancy.”
A pang50 of devastating51 jealousy52 pierced Victoria.
“The Olive Branch,” she said. “Where did you say it was?”
“Up past the turning to the second bridge. One of the turnings off RashidStreet—tucked away rather. Not far from the Copper53 Bazaar54.”
“And how’s Mrs. Pauncefoot Jones?” continued Mrs. Cardew Trench.
“Coming out soon? I hear she’s been in poor health?”
But having got the information she wanted, Victoria was taking no morerisks in invention. She glanced at her wristwatch and uttered an exclama-tion.
“Oh dear—I promised to wake Mrs. Clipp at half past six and help her toprepare for the journey. I must fly.”
The excuse was true enough, though Victoria had substituted half pastsix for seven o’clock. She hurried upstairs quite exhilarated. Tomorrowshe would get in touch with Edward at the Olive Branch. Earnest youngwomen with unwashed necks, indeed! They sounded most unattractive…Still, Victoria reflected uneasily that men are less critical of dingy55 necksthan middle-aged56 hygienic Englishwomen are—especially if the owners ofthe said necks were gazing with large eyes of admiration57 and adoration58 atthe male subject in question.
The evening passed rapidly. Victoria had an early meal in the diningroom with Mrs. Hamilton Clipp, the latter talking nineteen to the dozen onevery subject under the sun. She urged Victoria to come and pay a visitlater—and Victoria noted59 down the address carefully, because, after all,one never knew…She accompanied Mrs. Clipp to Baghdad North Station,saw her safely ensconced in her compartment60 and was introduced to anacquaintance also travelling to Kirkuk who would assist Mrs. Clipp withher toilet on the following morning.
The engine uttered loud melancholy61 screams like a soul in distress62, Mrs.
Clipp thrust a thick envelope into Victoria’s hand, said: “Just a little re-membrance, Miss Jones, of our very pleasant companionship which I hopeyou will accept with my most grateful thanks.”
Victoria said: “But it’s really too kind of you, Mrs. Clipp,” in a delightedvoice, the engine gave a fourth and final supreme63 banshee wail64 of anguishand the train pulled slowly out of the station.
Victoria took a taxi from the station back to the hotel since she had notthe faintest idea how to get back to it any other way and there did notseem anyone about whom she could ask.
On her return to the Tio, she ran up to her room and eagerly opened theenvelope. Inside were a couple of pairs of nylon stockings.
Victoria at any other moment would have been enchanted—nylon stock-ings having been usually beyond the reach of her purse. At the moment,however, hard cash was what she had been hoping for. Mrs. Clipp, how-ever had been far too delicate to think of giving her a five-dinar note. Vic-toria wished heartily65 that she had not been quite so delicate.
However, tomorrow there would be Edward. Victoria undressed, gotinto bed and in five minutes was fast asleep, dreaming that she was wait-ing at an aerodrome for Edward, but that he was held back from joiningher by a spectacled girl who clasped him firmly round the neck while theaeroplane began slowly to move away….
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1
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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fanfare
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| n.喇叭；号角之声；v.热闹地宣布 | |
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strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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authoritatively
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| 命令式地，有权威地，可信地 | |
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whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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cleansing
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| n. 净化(垃圾) adj. 清洁用的 动词cleanse的现在分词 | |
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rehabilitation
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| n.康复，悔过自新，修复，复兴，复职，复位 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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gland
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| n.腺体，(机)密封压盖，填料盖 | |
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sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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raisins
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| n.葡萄干( raisin的名词复数 ) | |
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prudently
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| adv. 谨慎地，慎重地 | |
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sonatas
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| n.奏鸣曲( sonata的名词复数 ) | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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cocktails
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| n.鸡尾酒( cocktail的名词复数 )；餐前开胃菜；混合物 | |
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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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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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improvising
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| 即兴创作（improvise的现在分词形式） | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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geniality
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| n.和蔼，诚恳；愉快 | |
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conceals
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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devastating
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| adj.毁灭性的，令人震惊的，强有力的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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61
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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62
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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63
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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64
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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65
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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