Mark Easterbrook’s Narrative1
I
I came out of the Old Vic, my friend Hermia Redcliffe beside me. We hadbeen to see a performance of Macbeth. It was raining hard. As we ranacross the street to the spot where I had parked the car, Hermia remarkedunjustly that whenever one went to the Old Vic it always rained.
“It’s just one of those things.”
I dissented2 from this view. I said that, unlike sundials, she rememberedonly the rainy hours.
“Now at Glyndebourne,” went on Hermia as I let in the clutch, “I’ve al-ways been lucky. I can’t imagine it other than perfection: the music—theglorious flower borders—the white flower border in particular.”
We discussed Glyndebourne and its music for a while, and then Hermiaremarked:
“We’re not going to Dover for breakfast, are we?”
“Dover? What an extraordinary idea. I thought we’d go to the Fantasie.
One needs some really good food and drink after all the magnificent bloodand gloom of Macbeth, Shakespeare always makes me ravenous3.”
“Yes. So does Wagner. Smoked salmon4 sandwiches at Covent Garden inthe intervals5 are never enough to stay the pangs6. As to why Dover, it’s be-cause you’re driving in that direction.”
“One has to go round,” I explained.
“But you’ve overdone7 going round. You’re well away on the Old (or is itthe New?) Kent Road.”
I took stock of my surroundings and had to admit that Hermia, as usual,was quite right.
“I always get muddled8 here,” I said in apology.
“It is confusing,” Hermia agreed. “Round and round Waterloo Station.”
Having at last successfully negotiated Westminster Bridge we resumedour conversation, discussing the production of Macbeth that we had justbeen viewing. My friend Hermia Redcliffe was a handsome young womanof twenty- eight. Cast in the heroic mould, she had an almost flawlessGreek profile, and a mass of dark chestnut9 hair, coiled on the nape of herneck. My sister always referred to her as “Mark’s girlfriend” with an in-tonation of inverted10 commas about the term that never failed to annoyme.
The Fantasie gave us a pleasant welcome and showed us to a small tableagainst the crimson11 velvet12 wall. The Fantasie is deservedly popular, andthe tables are close together. As we sat down, our neighbors at the nexttable greeted us cheerfully. David Ardingly was a lecturer in History at Ox-ford. He introduced his companion, a very pretty girl, with a fashionablehairdo, all ends, bits and pieces, sticking out at improbable angles on thecrown of her head. Strange to say, it suited her. She had enormous blueeyes and a mouth that was usually half open. She was, as all David’s girlswere known to be, extremely silly. David, who was a remarkably13 cleveryoung man, could only find relaxation14 with girls who were practicallyhalf-witted.
“This is my particular pet, Poppy,” he explained. “Meet Mark and Her-mia. They’re very serious and highbrow and you must try and live up tothem. We’ve just come from Do it for Kicks. Lovely show! I bet you two arestraight from Shakespeare or a revival15 of Ibsen.”
“Macbeth at the Old Vic,” said Hermia.
“Ah, what do you think of Batterson’s production?”
“I liked it,” said Hermia. “The lighting16 was very interesting. And I’venever seen the banquet scene so well managed.”
“Ah, but what about the witches?”
“Awful!” said Hermia. “They always are,” she added.
David agreed.
“A pantomime element seems bound to creep in,” he said. “All of themcapering about and behaving like a threefold Demon17 King. You can’t helpexpecting a Good Fairy to appear in white with spangles to say in a flatvoice:
Your evil shall not triumph. In the end,
It is Macbeth who will be round the bend.”
We all laughed, but David, who was quick on the uptake, gave me asharp glance.
“What gives with you?” he asked.
“Nothing. It was just that I was reflecting only the other day about Eviland Demon Kings in pantomime. Yes—and Good Fairies, too.”
“A propos de what?”
“Oh, in Chelsea at a coffee bar.”
“How smart and up-to-date you are, aren’t you, Mark? All among theChelsea set. Where heiresses in tights marry corner boys on the make.
That’s where Poppy ought to be, isn’t it, duckie?”
Poppy opened her enormous eyes still wider.
“I hate Chelsea,” she protested. “I like the Fantasie much better! Suchlovely, lovely food.”
“Good for you, Poppy. Anyway, you’re not really rich enough forChelsea. Tell us more about Macbeth, Mark, and the awful witches. I knowhow I’d produce the witches if I were doing a production.”
David had been a prominent member of the O.U.D.S. in the past.
“Well, how?”
“I’d make them very ordinary. Just sly quiet old women. Like thewitches in a country village.”
“But there aren’t any witches nowadays?” said Poppy, staring at him.
“You say that because you’re a London girl. There’s still a witch in everyvillage in rural England. Old Mrs. Black, in the third cottage up the hill.
Little boys are told not to annoy her, and she’s given presents of eggs anda home-baked cake now and again. Because,” he wagged a finger impress-ively, “if you get across her, your cows will stop giving milk, your potatocrop will fail, or little Johnnie will twist his ankle. You must keep on theright side of old Mrs. Black. Nobody says so outright—but they all know!”
“You’re joking,” said Poppy, pouting18.
“No, I’m not. I’m right, aren’t I, Mark?”
“Surely all that kind of superstition19 has died out completely with educa-tion,” said Hermia sceptically.
“Not in the rural pockets of the land. What do you say, Mark?”
“I think perhaps you’re right,” I said slowly. “Though I wouldn’t reallyknow. I’ve never lived in the country much.”
“I don’t see how you could produce the witches as ordinary old women,”
said Hermia, reverting20 to David’s earlier remark. “They must have a su-pernatural atmosphere about them, surely.”
“Oh, but just think,” said David. “It’s rather like madness. If you havesomeone who raves21 and staggers about with straws in their hair and looksmad, it’s not frightening at all! But I remember being sent once with amessage to a doctor at a mental home and I was shown into a room towait, and there was a nice elderly lady there, sipping22 a glass of milk. Shemade some conventional remark about the weather and then suddenlyshe leant forward and asked in a low voice:
“‘Is it your poor child who’s buried there behind the fireplace?’ And thenshe nodded her head and said ‘12:10 exactly. It’s always at the same timeevery day. Pretend you don’t notice the blood.’
“It was the matter-of-fact way she said it that was so spine-chilling.”
“Was there really someone buried behind the fireplace?” Poppy wantedto know.
David ignored her and went on:
“Then take mediums. At one moment trances, darkened rooms, knocksand raps. Afterwards the medium sits up, pats her hair and goes home to ameal of fish and chips, just an ordinary quite jolly woman.”
“So your idea of the witches,” I said, “is three old Scottish crones withsecond sight — who practise their arts in secret, muttering their spellsaround a cauldron, conjuring23 up spirits, but remaining themselves just anordinary trio of old women. Yes—it could be impressive.”
“If you could ever get any actors to play it that way,” said Hermia drily.
“You have something there,” admitted David. “Any hint of madness inthe script and an actor is immediately determined24 to go to town on it! Thesame with sudden deaths. No actor can just quietly collapse25 and fall downdead. He has to groan26, stagger, roll his eyes, gasp27, clutch his heart, clutchhis head, and make a terrific performance of it. Talking of performances,what did you think of Fielding’s Macbeth? Great division of opinionamong the critics.”
“I thought it was terrific,” said Hermia. “That scene with the doctor,after the sleepwalking scene. ‘Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas’d.’
He made clear what I’d never thought of before—that he was really order-ing the doctor to kill her. And yet he loved his wife. He brought out thestruggle between his fear and his love. That ‘Thou shouldst have died here-after’ was the most poignant28 thing I’ve ever known.”
“Shakespeare might get a few surprises if he saw his plays actednowadays,” I said drily.
“Burbage and Co. had already quenched29 a good deal of his spirit, I sus-pect,” said David.
Hermia murmured:
“The eternal surprise of the author at what the producer has done tohim.”
“Didn’t somebody called Bacon really write Shakespeare?” asked Poppy.
“That theory is quite out of date nowadays,” said David kindly30. “Andwhat do you know of Bacon?”
“He invented gunpowder,” said Poppy triumphantly31.
“You see why I love this girl?” he said. “The things she knows are alwaysso unexpected. Francis, not Roger, my love.”
“I thought it interesting,” said Hermia, “that Fielding played the part ofThird Murderer. Is there a precedent32 for that?”
“I believe so,” said David. “How convenient it must have been in thosetimes,” he went on, “to be able to call up a handy murderer whenever youwanted a little job done. Fun if one could do it nowadays.”
“But it is done,” protested Hermia. “Gangsters. Hoods—or whatever youcall them. Chicago and all that.”
“Ah,” said David. “But what I meant was not gangsterdom, not racket-eers or Crime Barons33. Just ordinary everyday folk who want to get rid ofsomeone. That business rival; Aunt Emily, so rich and so unfortunatelylong-lived; that awkward husband always in the way. How convenient ifyou could ring up Harrods and say ‘Please send along two good murder-ers, will you?’”
We all laughed.
“But one can do that in a way, can’t one?” said Poppy.
We turned towards her.
“What way, poppet?” asked David.
“Well, I mean, people can do that if they want to…People like us, as yousaid. Only I believe it’s very expensive.”
Poppy’s eyes were wide and ingenuous34, her lips were slightly parted.
“What do you mean?” asked David curiously35.
Poppy looked confused.
“Oh—I expect—I’ve got it mixed. I meant the Pale Horse. All that sort ofthing.”
“A pale horse? What kind of a pale horse?”
Poppy flushed and her eyes dropped.
“I’m being stupid. It’s just something someone mentioned—but I musthave got it all wrong.”
“Have some lovely Coupe Nesselrode,” said David kindly.

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1
narrative
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n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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2
dissented
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不同意,持异议( dissent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3
ravenous
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adj.极饿的,贪婪的 | |
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salmon
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n.鲑,大马哈鱼,橙红色的 | |
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5
intervals
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n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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6
pangs
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突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 ); 悲痛 | |
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overdone
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v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 );太夸张;把…煮得太久;(工作等)过度 | |
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8
muddled
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adj.混乱的;糊涂的;头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱,弄糟( muddle的过去式);使糊涂;对付,混日子 | |
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9
chestnut
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n.栗树,栗子 | |
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inverted
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adj.反向的,倒转的v.使倒置,使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
crimson
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n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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velvet
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n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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remarkably
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ad.不同寻常地,相当地 | |
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14
relaxation
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n.松弛,放松;休息;消遣;娱乐 | |
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revival
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n.复兴,复苏,(精力、活力等的)重振 | |
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lighting
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n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
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17
demon
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n.魔鬼,恶魔 | |
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18
pouting
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v.撅(嘴)( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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19
superstition
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n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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20
reverting
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恢复( revert的现在分词 ); 重提; 回到…上; 归还 | |
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21
raves
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n.狂欢晚会( rave的名词复数 )v.胡言乱语( rave的第三人称单数 );愤怒地说;咆哮;痴心地说 | |
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22
sipping
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v.小口喝,呷,抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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23
conjuring
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n.魔术 | |
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24
determined
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adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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collapse
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vi.累倒;昏倒;倒塌;塌陷 | |
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groan
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vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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gasp
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n.喘息,气喘;v.喘息;气吁吁他说 | |
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poignant
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adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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quenched
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解(渴)( quench的过去式和过去分词 ); 终止(某事物); (用水)扑灭(火焰等); 将(热物体)放入水中急速冷却 | |
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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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triumphantly
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ad.得意洋洋地;得胜地;成功地 | |
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32
precedent
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n.先例,前例;惯例;adj.在前的,在先的 | |
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33
barons
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男爵( baron的名词复数 ); 巨头; 大王; 大亨 | |
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ingenuous
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adj.纯朴的,单纯的;天真的;坦率的 | |
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curiously
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adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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