One afternoon when Bowers came in from lunch Thea handed him a card on which he read the name, “Mr. Philip Frederick Ottenburg.”
“He said he would be in again to-morrow and that he wanted some time. Who is he? I like him better than the others.”
Bowers nodded. “So do I. He’s not a singer. He’s a beer prince: son of the big brewer7 in St. Louis. He’s been in Germany with his mother. I didn’t know he was back.”
“Does he take lessons?”
“Now and again. He sings rather well. He’s at the head of the Chicago branch of the Ottenburg business, but he can’t stick to work and is always running away. He has great ideas in beer, people tell me. He’s what they call an imaginative business man; goes over to Bayreuth and seems to do nothing but give parties and spend money, and brings back more good notions for the brewery8 than the fellows who sit tight dig out in five years. I was born too long ago to be much taken in by these chesty boys with flowered vests, but I like Fred, all the same.”
“So do I,” said Thea positively9.
Bowers made a sound between a cough and a laugh. “Oh, he’s a lady-killer, all right! The girls in here are always making eyes at him. You won’t be the first.” He threw some sheets of music on the piano. “Better look that over; accompaniment’s a little tricky10. It’s for that new woman from Detroit. And Mrs. Priest will be in this afternoon.”
Thea sighed. “‘I Know that my Redeemer Liveth’?”
“The same. She starts on her concert tour next week, and we’ll have a rest. Until then, I suppose we’ll have to be going over her programme.”
The next day Thea hurried through her luncheon11 at a German bakery and got back to the studio at ten minutes past one. She felt sure that the young brewer would come early, before it was time for Bowers to arrive. He had not said he would, but yesterday, when he opened the door to go, he had glanced about the room and at her, and something in his eye had conveyed that suggestion.
Sure enough, at twenty minutes past one the door of the reception-room opened, and a tall, robust12 young man with a cane13 and an English hat and ulster looked in expectantly. “Ah—ha!” he exclaimed, “I thought if I came early I might have good luck. And how are you to-day, Miss Kronborg?”
Thea was sitting in the window chair. At her left elbow there was a table, and upon this table the young man sat down, holding his hat and cane in his hand, loosening his long coat so that it fell back from his shoulders. He was a gleaming, florid young fellow. His hair, thick and yellow, was cut very short, and he wore a closely trimmed beard, long enough on the chin to curl a little. Even his eyebrows14 were thick and yellow, like fleece. He had lively blue eyes—Thea looked up at them with great interest as he sat chatting and swinging his foot rhythmically15. He was easily familiar, and frankly16 so. Wherever people met young Ottenburg, in his office, on shipboard, in a foreign hotel or railway compartment17, they always felt (and usually liked) that artless presumption18 which seemed to say, “In this case we may waive19 formalities. We really haven’t time. This is to-day, but it will soon be to-morrow, and then we may be very different people, and in some other country.” He had a way of floating people out of dull or awkward situations, out of their own torpor20 or constraint21 or discouragement. It was a marked personal talent, of almost incalculable value in the representative of a great business founded on social amenities22. Thea had liked him yesterday for the way in which he had picked her up out of herself and her German grammar for a few exciting moments.
“By the way, will you tell me your first name, please? Thea? Oh, then you are a Swede, sure enough! I thought so. Let me call you Miss Thea, after the German fashion. You won’t mind? Of course not!” He usually made his assumption of a special understanding seem a tribute to the other person and not to himself.
“How long have you been with Bowers here? Do you like the old grouch23? So do I. I’ve come to tell him about a new soprano I heard at Bayreuth. He’ll pretend not to care, but he does. Do you warble with him? Have you anything of a voice? Honest? You look it, you know. What are you going in for, something big? Opera?”
Thea blushed crimson24. “Oh, I’m not going in for anything. I’m trying to learn to sing at funerals.”
Ottenburg leaned forward. His eyes twinkled. “I’ll engage you to sing at mine. You can’t fool me, Miss Thea. May I hear you take your lesson this afternoon?”
“No, you may not. I took it this morning.”
He picked up a roll of music that lay behind him on the table. “Is this yours? Let me see what you are doing.”
He snapped back the clasp and began turning over the songs. “All very fine, but tame. What’s he got you at this Mozart stuff for? I shouldn’t think it would suit your voice. Oh, I can make a pretty good guess at what will suit you! This from ‘Gioconda’ is more in your line. What’s this Grieg? It looks interesting. Tak for Ditt Råd. What does that mean?”
“‘Thanks for your Advice.’ Don’t you know it?”
“No; not at all. Let’s try it.” He rose, pushed open the door into the music-room, and motioned Thea to enter before him. She hung back.
“I couldn’t give you much of an idea of it. It’s a big song.”
Ottenburg took her gently by the elbow and pushed her into the other room. He sat down carelessly at the piano and looked over the music for a moment. “I think I can get you through it. But how stupid not to have the German words. Can you really sing the Norwegian? What an infernal language to sing. Translate the text for me.” He handed her the music.
Thea looked at it, then at him, and shook her head. “I can’t. The truth is I don’t know either English or Swedish very well, and Norwegian’s still worse,” she said confidentially25. She not infrequently refused to do what she was asked to do, but it was not like her to explain her refusal, even when she had a good reason.
“I understand. We immigrants never speak any language well. But you know what it means, don’t you?”
“Of course I do!”
“Then don’t frown at me like that, but tell me.”
Thea continued to frown, but she also smiled. She was confused, but not embarrassed. She was not afraid of Ottenburg. He was not one of those people who made her spine26 like a steel rail. On the contrary, he made one venturesome.
“Well, it goes something like this: Thanks for your advice! But I prefer to steer27 my boat into the din5 of roaring breakers. Even if the journey is my last, I may find what I have never found before. Onward28 must I go, for I yearn29 for the wild sea. I long to fight my way through the angry waves, and to see how far, and how long I can make them carry me.”
Ottenburg took the music and began: “Wait a moment. Is that too fast? How do you take it? That right?” He pulled up his cuffs30 and began the accompaniment again. He had become entirely31 serious, and he played with fine enthusiasm and with understanding.
Fred’s talent was worth almost as much to old Otto Ottenburg as the steady industry of his older sons. When Fred sang the Prize Song at an interstate meet of the Turnverein, ten thousand Turners went forth32 pledged to Ottenburg beer.
As Thea finished the song Fred turned back to the first page, without looking up from the music. “Now, once more,” he called. They began again, and did not hear Bowers when he came in and stood in the doorway33. He stood still, blinking like an owl34 at their two heads shining in the sun. He could not see their faces, but there was something about his girl’s back that he had not noticed before: a very slight and yet very free motion, from the toes up. Her whole back seemed plastic, seemed to be moulding itself to the galloping35 rhythm of the song. Bowers perceived such things sometimes—unwillingly. He had known to-day that there was something afoot. The river of sound which had its source in his pupil had caught him two flights down. He had stopped and listened with a kind of sneering36 admiration37. From the door he watched her with a half-incredulous, half-malicious smile.
When he had struck the keys for the last time, Ottenburg dropped his hands on his knees and looked up with a quick breath. “I got you through. What a stunning38 song! Did I play it right?”
Thea studied his excited face. There was a good deal of meaning in it, and there was a good deal in her own as she answered him. “You suited me,” she said ungrudgingly.
After Ottenburg was gone, Thea noticed that Bowers was more agreeable than usual. She had heard the young brewer ask Bowers to dine with him at his club that evening, and she saw that he looked forward to the dinner with pleasure. He dropped a remark to the effect that Fred knew as much about food and wines as any man in Chicago. He said this boastfully.
“If he’s such a grand business man, how does he have time to run around listening to singing-lessons?” Thea asked suspiciously.
As she went home to her boarding-house through the February slush, she wished she were going to dine with them. At nine o’clock she looked up from her grammar to wonder what Bowers and Ottenburg were having to eat. At that moment they were talking of her.
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1
bowers
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| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
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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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3
uncertainties
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| 无把握( uncertainty的名词复数 )； 不确定； 变化不定； 无把握、不确定的事物 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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brewer
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| n. 啤酒制造者 | |
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brewery
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| n.啤酒厂 | |
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9
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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tricky
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| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
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11
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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14
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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15
rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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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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presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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19
waive
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| vt.放弃，不坚持(规定、要求、权力等) | |
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torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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amenities
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| n.令人愉快的事物；礼仪；礼节；便利设施；礼仪( amenity的名词复数 )；便利设施；（环境等的）舒适；（性情等的）愉快 | |
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23
grouch
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| n.牢骚，不满；v.抱怨 | |
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24
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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27
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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30
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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31
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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35
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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36
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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37
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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38
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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