What ailed4 her? he asked himself again and again. What an extraordinarily7 queer girl she had grown of late! he next reflected, thinking over the scene of their quarrel. What queer eyes she had!—‘’Tis as if the devil himself was sitting at the bottom of them, and staring at you—the devil himself, no better—enough to scare a man, so they are! quite enough to scare a man!’ he repeated several times to himself, as he recalled the look of concentrated rage with which she had sprung upon him and swept him, as it were, out of her path in her fury. ‘’Twasn’t safe she looked, so she didn’t then—not safe at all. And what did I do to make her so mad? Only laughed at her about Teige O’Shaughnessy! My God, and who wouldn’t laugh at her about Teige O’Shaughnessy? Teige O’Shaughnessy, wisha!{193}’
That Grania would seriously dream of marrying Teige he did not for a moment believe, but that, even in anger, she should throw such a rival in his teeth was an insult very difficult to stomach. Murdough had never asked himself for a moment whether he cared for Grania or not, the question would probably have seemed to him utterly8 superfluous9. Of course he cared for her. Had she not always been there; always, in a fashion, belonged to him? Why in the world wouldn’t he care for her?
That he had liked her better in the old days when she was still the little Grania of the hooker, before she had shot up into this rather formidable woman she had so suddenly become, there is no denying. The little Grania had admired him without criticism; the little Grania had no sombre moods; the little Grania never gazed at him with those big, menacing eyes—eyes such as{194} a lioness might turn upon someone whom she loves, but who displeases10 her—the little Grania was natural, was comprehensible, was just like any other little girsha in the place, not at all like this new Grania, who was quite out of his range and ken6; an unaccountable product, one that made him feel vaguely11 uneasy; who seemed to belong to a region in which he had never travelled; who was ‘queer,’ in short; the last word summing up concisely12 the worst and most damning thing that could be said of anyone in Inishmaan.
He brooded over all this a good deal, sitting and swinging his legs upon the steps of the old villa13, which, since his grandmother’s death, he had taken pretty constantly to inhabit, it being preferable, in his mind, despite its bareness, to the overcrowded family cabin up at Alleenageeragh. That there was a sense of relief in being free from Grania and{195} her ‘queerness’ he was aware, but, on the other hand, there was a yet greater sense of failure and of defeat. His vanity was badly hurt by it, likewise his pocket, and the two together acted as a powerful counter-poise. He was ‘used,’ moreover, to Grania. His future had always held her as a matter of course, just as hers had always held him, and use, more than all the other ingredients of existence, possesses a tremendous leverage14 upon beings of Murdough’s type. The end of his brooding was that one evening, about a fortnight after their quarrel, and a couple of days after the scene between Grania and Shan Daly, he waylaid15 her as she was coming back from the kelp fire, hiding for that purpose in an old clump16 of hawthorn17 bushes till she should pass by.
This clump stood upon the flattest bit of land in the whole island, so that from it, as from a post of vantage, he could see a long{196} way, miles it seemed, over the dim, still faintly-gleaming surface. Where he had hidden himself was the only spot that broke this flatness, a flatness sloping imperceptibly till it merged18 into the sea at high-water mark. It was a fine warm evening, though there had been heavy rain in the daytime. A quantity of small brown moths19 flew round his head, other and much larger white ones kept emerging one after the other from the nettles20 and brambles that covered the fallen stones, for, like almost every clump on the islands, this too held a well and a scrap21 of old ruined church hidden somewhere away at the bottom of it.
After waiting half an hour, he saw Grania coming towards him, the only living thing far as the eye could reach, everything else being either stone, or else vegetation hardly less grey and arid22. As she came near an unexpected qualm seized Murdough, a sudden alarm{197} as to what she might be going to say or to do; how she would behave when she saw him there. It was quite a new idea for him to dream of being afraid of Grania, or to doubt his own unquestionable superiority over her; but since their quarrel she had assumed rather a different aspect in his eyes, and this evening she looked, he thought, bigger and more imposing, somehow, than usual, as she came walking slowly towards him, solitary23 and empty-handed, her eyes staring straight in front of her as if she were seeking something that was not there. The impression was so strong that it even occurred to him for a moment that he would let her pass, as he easily could do, and stay hidden away in his lair24 until she had gone by.
‘Arrah, great King of Glory, ’tis the mortal queer-looking girl she has grown to be, sure and certain!’ he muttered uneasily. ‘My soul from the devil, what ails25 her these{198} times, at all at all? She that used to be the nice, easy, little girsha.’
Whether he would have called to her or have let her pass unchallenged, it is impossible to say, but it happened that as she drew near to the clump she slackened her already slow pace, and looked directly towards him; her eyes, as it seemed to him, piercing right down to where he stood hidden in the centre of the thorny26 thicket27. Concluding, therefore, that he was discovered, he got up and in rather a quavering voice, called to her, and asked her to stop.
She started violently, and stopped dead short, then looked again, not directly towards him, but a little farther on, as if doubtful whether she had really heard a voice, or only imagined that she had done so. Murdough’s head and shoulders rising out of the clump was a piece of evidence not to be mistaken. Still she stood rooted to the same spot, staring{199} at him, not speaking; staring as if he had been his own ghost.
What were they going to say to one another? What, after their stormy parting, after that fortnight of silence and alienation28, was the footing upon which they were to meet? Neither of them knew, and it was probably accident that decided29 that point. Murdough’s inspiration was at any rate a happier one than his last had been.
‘Then it was waiting to walk back to the house with you I was—yes, indeed—just waiting to walk back with you, that was all, Grania O’Malley,’ he said, with a decided quaver in his voice, and an air of mild deprecation.
The tone and look, more even than the words, disarmed30 the girl utterly; further than this, they filled her with a sudden, a delicious sense of happiness. She said nothing, but when he had stepped over the mass of{200} branches, and through an outer circumvallation of nettles, and had come up to her, she was trembling violently, and it was silently and still tremblingly that she turned and walked back beside him through the dusk, as they had so often walked before.
It was the only explanation between them, but it seemed to suffice. The first awkwardness of the meeting over, Murdough’s tongue soon regained31 its nimbleness, and he began telling her a long tale about a curragh which he had bought or proposed to buy, if so be, God willing, he could find the money. It was Malachy O’Flaherty’s own curragh, and the best in the islands, barring one, and that was Phil Garry’s father’s big curragh which had gone to the bottom in the great storm on the twenty-eighth of January last. Poor old Mick Garry’s heart would have broken to lose it, so it would, honest man, only, thank{201} God, he hadn’t long to fret32 about it, for he was drowned himself at the same time, and only that Phil Garry and his brother Teddy had stayed at home and hidden themselves, they would have been drowned too, as the little bouchaleen Pat was, who had been the only one of the family the old man could get hold of when he went out in such a hurry to save the nets. But Malachy O’Flaherty’s curragh was a picture, fit for a king, and had been the first in of seven that had started at the Ballyvaughan races last March; at least seven would have started only that two never got off, for one of them broke her rudder the day before, and the other had a big hole stove in her side, through Thaddeus Doonan, that owned her, leaping into her in a hurry, the fool, with his boots on. She was the handsomest boat on the whole bay, and had been newly caulked33 and canvassed34 by Malachy himself only that very year. There was no{202} curragh like her in Galway or out of it, and it was raging mad the Claddagh men were about it, for whoever owned her would be sure to win the big race that was coming on next month, with twenty boats starting and three shillings down to every boat. Twenty times three shillings would be sixty shillings, that was three pounds, and if he had to sell the coat off his back, and the shirt too, he’d do it rather than not have her to race in, for it was a sin and a shame letting her go to those who didn’t know how to row no more than black crabs35 down at the bottom of the sea. That was what Malachy O’Flaherty had said, and he had said, too, that he would give it to him dirt cheap, because he’d like to see her coming in first at the big race, and not let everything good go to strangers. What was the good, Malachy had said, of stinting36 and saving for ever? Was it when a man was old that he wanted the money most? No, it was{203} not, it was when he was young, for how did he know he would ever live to be old at all, at all? Could you take the money into the grave with you? No, you could not, for money was of no use there, nor anything else either, when you would be dead and buried! That was what Malachy O’Flaherty had said, and it was quite true, so it was, quite true. It is not in the grave, nor in heaven either, with all the grandeur37 and glory you’d find there, you would be wanting money, whether it was much or whether it was little.
To all this Grania listened silently, as usual, turning her eyes upon him from time to time with a curiously38 lingering expression. There was a look of inquiry39 in her glance, a look of entreaty40 and expectation, a look of impatience41, too, only it was impatience curbed42 and restrained by something stronger than itself. So they walked on side by side until they had reached the cabin. Here Murdough, whose{204} tale was finished, was turning away, but she made a quick sign to him to stop; went in with resolute43 steps, came out again and thrust something hurriedly into his hands. It was a bank-note, and all the money that she had at that moment in the world with the exception of a few shillings, and what must be kept absolutely sacred for the expenses of Honor’s funeral.
Murdough’s astonishment44 and delight burst out then and there like a fountain; burst into a torrent45 of words—vague, iridescent46, incoherent. Projects of every sort—races to be won, victories over rivals, money, much money, to be earned in the future—they all poured forth47; flew and hurtled through the air; one golden scheme jostling against another in its hurry to express itself. Grania listened, but her eyes never lost that oddly intent, wistful expression. She stood perfectly48 still while he capered49 about the rocks, waving his{205} hands and snapping his fingers as he descanted first on one project then on another. Suddenly she turned, and, leaving him to finish his flights by himself, went in, closing the door behind her; not this time, however, with a bang, but slowly, with a gradual and, as it seemed, a reluctant pressure from within.
It was with a more conscious strut50 than usual that, after waiting a minute to see if she would return, Murdough marched off towards the old villa, the note she had given him making sweet music against his pocket as he did so. Money! Not a few paltry51 shillings, but a whole large sum at once. He was a king! There were no possibilities that were not open to him, no dream that might not be fulfilled, no hopes that might not suddenly bloom into life. Where was Teige O’Shaughnessy now? he asked himself with derision. How long would it be before anyone gave{206} him money like that?—the poor, mean, scraping, saving little boccach.
Through all this satisfaction there returned, however, from time to time the same vague uneasiness about Grania. She had only done what she ought; had given him the money right off in a lump, without any lecturings or bargains; that was all quite natural and proper, but, upon the other hand, what sort of wife would she be, this Grania, for a quiet, easy-going boy, who only wanted to live in peace and quietness? Wasn’t she queer? Mother of Moses! she was queer! the queerest girl in the whole world! That was the burden, refrain, summing-up of all his meditations52 about her.
Once in the course of these meditations he chanced to look up and catch Shan Daly’s ferrety eyes peering at him from their red-rimmed sockets53 as if he were trying to make out what he was thinking of, for Shan, too, had{207} got into the habit of creeping into the old villa, preferring its shelter to the mud-banks and sides of walls which of late had been his habitual54 resting-places. The relative standing55 of these two had become exactly reversed since Murdough had grown to be a man, and a strong one. Formerly56, Shan, we know, had bullied57 him unmercifully whenever he got the chance; now, Shan was his henchman, his jackal, the patient partaker of all his moods. It spoke58 a good deal for Murdough’s good temper and inherently unresentful way of looking at things, that he never showed the slightest inclination59 to avenge60 himself upon Shan, or to pay back his old wrongs as he easily might have done. On the contrary, though he despised him, as everyone did, he seemed rather to enjoy his society than otherwise. He was ‘used’ to him, you see, and that counted for so much. Have we not seen that he was also{208} ‘used’ to Grania O’Malley? Between a man with no scruples61 whatever, no character to lose, no qualms62 of any sort save fear for his own skin, and a mere63 convivial64 young gentleman who has never done anything worse than get drunk and run into debt, the sense, too, of superiority is perhaps never wholly upon one side. Murdough knew nothing of Shan’s latest adventure, but he had long had cause to suspect that Shan, for some reason, hated Grania. Several times he had been aware that it was Shan who had prevented him from going to see her, or who had egged him on to doing things she disliked. This, and a slight feeling of embarrassment65 upon the subject, kept him from telling him of her recent donation. All the same he was genuinely grateful for it, and in the first flush of his gratitude66 laid out a variety of schemes which he would, could, or might carry out in the course of the next few weeks to gratify{209} her. ‘Queer’ she undoubtedly67 was, mysteriously, unaccountably queer, but at least her queerness had, this time, taken a right instead of a wrong direction!
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1
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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2
jaunty
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| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
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3
entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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ailed
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| v.生病( ail的过去式和过去分词 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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displeases
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| 冒犯，使生气，使不愉快( displease的第三人称单数 ) | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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concisely
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| adv.简明地 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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leverage
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| n.力量，影响；杠杆作用，杠杆的力量 | |
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15
waylaid
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| v.拦截，拦路( waylay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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hawthorn
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| 山楂 | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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alienation
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| n.疏远；离间；异化 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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33
caulked
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| v.堵（船的）缝( caulk的过去式和过去分词 )；泥…的缝；填塞；使不漏水 | |
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34
canvassed
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| v.（在政治方面）游说( canvass的过去式和过去分词 )；调查（如选举前选民的）意见；为讨论而提出（意见等）；详细检查 | |
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crabs
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| n.蟹( crab的名词复数 )；阴虱寄生病；蟹肉v.捕蟹( crab的第三人称单数 ) | |
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36
stinting
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| v.限制，节省（stint的现在分词形式） | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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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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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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41
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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42
curbed
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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45
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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46
iridescent
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| adj.彩虹色的，闪色的 | |
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47
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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48
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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49
capered
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| v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
strut
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| v.肿胀，鼓起；大摇大摆地走；炫耀；支撑；撑开；n.高视阔步；支柱，撑杆 | |
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51
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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52
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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53
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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54
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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55
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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56
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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57
bullied
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| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
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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59
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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60
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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61
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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62
qualms
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| n.不安；内疚 | |
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63
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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convivial
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| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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66
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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67
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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