第一部分• 相识
“只要答应我并触摸
你的祸害让克洛伊很不高兴,但别伤害她太多。”
“他应该在这里,”特兰莫尔夫人说着,转身离开了窗户。
玛丽·莱斯特放下了她的工作。这是一件精美的教堂刺绣,因为它是由年轻的伯恩·琼斯先生本人为她设计的,这让她成为拉斐尔前派朋友们羡慕的对象。
“确实是的。你发现有一列火车大约十二点左右。”
“当然。在民意调查结果公布后,他们不可能用一个多小时的时间来发表讲话。我知道威廉打算尽可能赶上那趟火车。”
“今天晚上就坐吗?”
特兰莫尔夫人点点头。她在房间里焦躁不安地走来走去,到处摆弄一本书,显然心里充满了想法。玛丽·莱斯特又看了她一会儿,然后又静静地继续她的工作。她彬彬有礼的同情心、动作的从容自如,与特兰莫尔夫人的不耐烦形成鲜明对比。但事实上,她对外面街上的声音的倾听并不亚于她的同伴。
特兰莫尔夫人走到窗前,站在那里眺望着外面的公园。那是复活节前一周,梧桐树还没有长出叶子。但公园栏杆内的几根荆棘已经绿得繁茂,公园步道旁也绽放着春天的花朵,但并没有像几年后流行的那样绚丽多彩。那是一个温和的下午,车道上挤满了马车。特兰莫尔夫人站在那栋不规则的老房子的弓窗上,可以看到人群来来往往,也可以看到公园巷两边的交通。从这个角度来看,伦敦充满了欢快、友好的气氛。昏暗的阳光,白云的天空,复苏的绿色和花朵的气息,从远处开着的窗户吹进来的柔和的空气,带来了春天、希望和重生的印象,这在不知不觉中影响了特兰莫尔夫人。
“好吧,我想知道威廉这次在议会会做什么!”她一边说,一边重新坐到火边的座位上,开始剪一本新书的书页。
“他肯定会做得非常好,”莱斯特小姐说。
特兰莫尔夫人耸了耸肩。 “亲爱的——你知道威廉自从离开三一学院以来已经八年了——是世上最闲的年轻人之一吗?”
“他有一份简报!”
“是的——在乡下的某个地方,所有的晚辈都轮流得到一份,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “那一年他非常热衷于巡回演出,从未缺席过任何一场比赛。明年,没有什么会促使他离开这座城市。这八年来,他到底对自己做了什么?我无法想象。”
“他长大了——异常英俊,”玛丽·莱斯特说,她重新穿针时犹豫了一下。
“我再也记不起他了,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “所有来到这里和纳罗威斯的艺术家都想画他。我曾经以为这会让他变成一只被宠坏的小猿猴。但没有什么能宠坏他。”
莱斯特小姐笑了。 “你知道,伊丽莎白表弟——你不妨立刻承认!——你认为他是最能干、最英俊、最迷人的男人!”
“我当然知道,”特兰莫尔夫人平静地说。 “此外,我现在确信他将成为首相。至于懒惰,那当然只是一种 Façonde Parler。他已经为自己喜欢的事情付出了足够的努力。”
“那儿——你瞧!”玛丽·莱斯特笑着说道。
“无论如何,这不是政治,”老太太若有所思地说。 “他走进议院是为了取悦我,因为我是个傻瓜,想在那里见他。但我必须说,当他的选民去年把他赶下台时,我想如果他们不这样做的话,他们就会是一群心胸狭窄的人。他们非常清楚他从来没有为他们做过中风。出勤率——分组——完全是可耻的!”
“好吧,他在这里,胜利地前往其他地方——带着各种令人愉快的前景!”
特兰莫尔夫人叹了口气。她白皙的手指停下了手中的工作。
“那当然是因为——现在——他是一个人物。现在一切对他来说都会变得容易。我亲爱的玛丽,他们谈论英国是一个民主国家!”
说话的人抬起了她英俊的肩膀;然后,似乎是为了摆脱突然袭击她的失落和悲伤的想法,她突然改变了话题。
“好吧,不管有没有工作,我们要做的第一件事就是嫁给他。”
她猛地抬起头。但她在玛丽·莱斯特轻轻移动的手上却察觉不到一丝一毫的颤抖。不过,她的言论并未得到回应。
“你不同意吗,波莉?”特兰莫尔夫人微笑着说道。
当她观察她的同伴时,她的微笑——仍然给她的脸带来了极大的美丽——是迷人的,但有点狡猾。
“当然,”莱斯特小姐说,她把头偏向一侧,以便判断她刚刚涂上的一些绿色阴影的效果。“但这对他来说肯定也会变得容易。”
“好吧,毕竟女孩子是不能求婚的!我还从未见过他对一个女孩感兴趣——当然,除了他自己的家庭之外,”特兰莫尔夫人急忙补充道。
“不——他确实把自己奉献给了已婚妇女,”莱斯特小姐回答道,她的语气有点心不在焉,更像是对她的刺绣比对谈话更感兴趣。
“他宁愿和埃斯特雷夫人待上一个小时,也不愿和伦敦最漂亮的小姐待上一周。确实如此,但我发誓这是女孩们自己的错!他们应该维护自己的尊严——更加冷落这些生物!在我年轻的时候——”
“啊,那时我们还没有过剩,”玛丽平静地说。 “听着!”——她举起了手。
“是的,”特兰莫尔夫人跳了起来。 “他在那。”
她站在那儿等着。门猛地打开,进来一个身材高大的年轻人。
“威廉,你怎么这么晚啊!”特兰莫尔夫人飞进他怀里说道。
“嗯,妈妈,你满意吗?”
儿子与她保持一臂距离,对她慈祥地微笑。
“我当然是,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “那你——你累得厉害吗?”
“一点也没有。啊,玛丽!——你好吗?”
莱斯特小姐站了起来,表兄弟俩握了握手。
“但我不否认,从那些残酷的混战中回来是非常令人高兴的,”新成员说道,他双手枕在火边的扶手椅上,而特兰莫尔夫人则在准备。给他倒了一杯茶。
“我希望你会喜欢它,”莱斯特小姐说,同时也朝火边走去。
“好吧,当你身处其中时,你会很兴奋地想知道你将如何摆脱它!但当然,有人可能会说,地狱地区。”
“不完全是,”玛丽·莱斯特严肃地微笑着说道。
“波莉!你 ,那恭喜你, 保守党。其他人的地狱都变了——但你的地狱却没有!谢谢你,母亲。”特兰莫尔夫人给他倒茶。然后,他懒洋洋地满足地伸展着巨大的身躯,将棕色的眼睛从一位女士转向另一位女士。 “我说,妈妈,我已经好几个星期没见过像你或波莉那样好看的东西了,如果她能原谅我的话。”
“管住你的舌头,鹅,”他的母亲一边给茶壶添水一边说道。 “什么——没有漂亮女孩——一个也没有?”
“好吧,他们没有来找我,”威廉心满意足地嚼着面包和黄油说道。 “我经历了所有常见的骗局——并以所有常见的方式背叛了我的灵魂——没有任何值得一提的安慰。”
“别胡说,先生,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “你知道你喜欢说话,也喜欢别人的赞美,而这两方面你都得到过很多。”
“你没有读懂我的话,妈妈!”
“我没有吗?”她微笑着说道。他呻吟了一声,又拿了一块茶饼。
“你不觉得,至少我自己的家人可能会忽略这一点吗?”
“嗯,先生——那么您自己说的话一个字都不相信吗?”特兰莫尔夫人站在他身后,把他的头发从前额向后抚平,说道。
“嗯,谁呢?”他愉快地抬起头,吻住了她的指尖。
“你就是本着这种精神回到众议院的?”玛丽·莱斯特(Mary Lyster)继续她的工作,微微抿起嘴唇,向他提出了这个问题。
“精神?你什么意思,波莉?当然,有人玩这个游戏——它有它的时刻——可以这么说,它的热门角落——或者我想没有人会玩它!”
“那目标呢?”她轻轻地抬起一张不以为然的脸,这个动作再次显示出头和脖子的美丽。
“为什么——当然是为了把其他家伙拒之门外!”他抬起一只手臂,将母亲拉到椅子边上坐下。
“威廉,你不能这样说话,”特兰莫尔夫人坚决地说,同时把脸颊贴在他的手上。 “当你还是一名自由职业者时,一切都很好——但现在——哦!别介意玛丽——她很谨慎——而且她知道这一切。”
“什么——他们想把希克森的位置让给我?帕勒姆刚刚写信给我——我在楼下找到了那封信——要我去见他。”
“哦!来了?特兰莫尔夫人一脸高兴地说。帕勒姆勋爵担任首相。 “现在别再骗人了,威廉,假装你不高兴。但你必须工作,介意!”她竖起一根手指警告。 “注意,你必须回信!——注意,你必须遵守约会!”
“我可以吗?……啊!——哈德森——”
他转过身来。管家就在房间里。
“阁下,夫人,如果方便的话,希望在晚饭前见见威廉先生。”
“当然,哈德森,当然,”年轻人说。 “告诉大人,我十分钟后就去见他。”
然后,当管家离开时——“爸爸,妈妈怎么样?”
“哦!和往常一样,”特兰莫尔夫人悲伤地说。
“你呢?”
他男孩般地用手臂搂住她的腰,抬头看着她,英俊的脸上充满了爱意和活力。玛丽·莱斯特观察着他们,认为他们是非凡的一对——他正值青春年华的全盛时期,而她尽管已步入中年,但仍然如此美丽——事实上,他们此刻的气质有些柔和,她穿着深沉的哀悼、宽大的黑纱和暗淡的丝绸,掩盖了这一点。
“我很好,亲爱的,”她把手放在他的肩上,轻声说道。 “现在,继续喝茶吧。玛丽——喂他!我去和父亲谈谈,直到你来为止。”
她消失了,威廉·阿什走近他的表弟。
“她 is 更好的?”他说道,语气里带着一种与他一样的焦虑。
“哦是的!你的当选对她来说就是一切——还有你的信。你知道她有多崇拜你,威廉。”
艾希长长地吸了一口气。
“是啊——这不是运气不好吗?”
“威廉!”
“我是说,对于她来说。因为,你知道——我无法辜负它。我知道是她干的——上帝保佑她!——那个老帕勒姆会给我这个东西。这是一个完美的丑闻!”
“威廉,胡说八道!”
“这是!”他坚持着,跳了起来,站在她面前,双手插在口袋里。 “他们将任命我为外交部副部长,我想我会接受这个职位,并且心存感激。你知道吗?”——他强调地删掉了这句话——“我一句德语都不懂——而且我不能和一个法国人交谈半个小时而不让自己丢脸。就是这样——这就是我们的统治方式!”
他站在那里,用明亮的大眼睛盯着她——有趣,但奇怪的是超然——仿佛他与自己正在谈论的事情无关。
玛丽·莱斯特有些困惑地看着他的目光,她一直意识到他的邻居非常令人愉快和激动人心。
“但每个人都说——你在外国话题上说得很好。”
“好吧,任何傻瓜都可以写一本蓝皮书。只是——对我来说幸运的是——所有的傻瓜都不会。我有时就是这样得分的。哦!我不否认——我进球了!”他把手插进口袋里,整个高大的身躯充满活力,在她看来,充满了意志和幽默感。
“你会再次得分,”她微笑着说。 “你有一个绝佳的机会,威廉。主教是这么说的。”
“非常感谢他!”
艾希用一种很奇怪的方式瞧不起她。
“他告诉我,他从来不相信你像其他人认为的那样是个闲人——他确信你拥有巨大的天赋,并且你会利用它们来为你的国家谋福利,而且”——她略微犹豫了——“教堂。我希望你有时能和他谈谈,威廉。他看得太清楚了。”
“哦!他是吗?艾什说。
玛丽放下手中的工作,她的脸——有点太宽了,五官也太明显了——抬起来面对着他。它的苍白颜色已经变成了轻微的红晕。但更用力的表情却不知为何并没有增加她的魅力,声音也带着些许鼻音。
当威廉·阿什站着俯视着她时,他的脑海中掠过许多飞逝的印象。他非常清楚玛丽·莱斯特是他可以娶的少女之一。他的母亲从来没有强迫过他,但她肯定会默许。如果他没有猜到玛丽可能不会拒绝他,那就只是假装谦虚了。而且她很英俊,衣食无忧,人脉广泛——确实如此,令人难以忍受。男人在她的亲戚面前可能会有点畏缩。而且,她和他一直都是好朋友,即使是小时候,他也忍不住嘲笑她是个慢吞吞的教练。在他在该国的选举周期间,“波利”的想法经常善意地偷走他难得的平静时刻。他当然必须结婚。没有什么特别的兴奋或浪漫。现在哥哥死了,自己成为了继承人,那就是必须要做的事情。波莉人很好——脾气很好,也很聪明。她看起来很好,动作也很好,非常适合这个职位。
然后,突然,当这些半个想法冲过他的大脑时,一股寒冷而令人分心的气息——来自大地的风。 无聊——似乎向他们吹来,将他们吹散。是提到了主教——令人厌烦、自大的家伙——还是她略显迂腐的语气——还是她讲话中暗示的“管理”的微不足道的暗示?谁知道?但在那一刻,也许生活的天平发生了倾斜。
“非常感谢主教,”他一边走来走去,一边重复道。 “不过,恐怕我不像他那样认真对待事情。哦,我希望我能表现得体一些——但是,上帝啊,这真是一部喜剧啊!你知道那种文章”——他转向她——“我们的论文将在明天我的约会时写出。他们会让我成为一个好人——你会看到的!当然,真正的事实是,正如你和我都清楚地知道的那样,如果没有可怜的弗雷迪的死——还有母亲——和她的晚餐——以及来到这里的小伙子——我可能会吹口哨寻求任何东西之类的。然后我去莱德曼纳姆,以自由党的身份站立,让所有虔诚的激进分子为我工作!这是一个充满欺骗的世界——不是吗?”
他回到壁炉旁,站在那儿俯视着她——咧着嘴笑。
玛丽又继续刺绣了。她也隐约意识到有什么令人失望的事情。
“当然,如果你选择这样接受,也可以,”她相当尖刻地说。 “当然,一切都可以变得荒谬。”
“嗯,无论如何,这也是一种祝福!”艾什笑着说。 “但是,玛丽,请听我介绍一下你自己。你一直在做什么?——跳舞——骑马,嗯?”
他倒在她身边,开始像哥哥一样的盘问,一直持续到特兰莫尔夫人回来并恳求他立即去见他的父亲。
当他回到客厅时,艾什发现母亲独自一人。天渐渐黑了,她无所事事地坐着,双手放在腿上,等着他。
“我得走了,亲爱的,”他对她说。 “你不肯下来看我入座吗?”
她摇了摇头。
“我想不是。你觉得你父亲怎么样?”
“我没有看到太大的变化,”他犹豫着说道。
“不,他和以前一样。”
“你呢?”他滑到她旁边的沙发上,用手臂搂住她。 “你有没有烦恼过?”
特兰莫尔夫人没有回答。她是一个自持的女人,不轻易落泪。但当他按下时,他感觉到她的手在颤抖。
“我现在不担心了,”过了一会儿她说道,“既然你已经回来了。”
艾什的脸上呈现出一种非常温柔的表情。
“妈妈,你知道吗——你对我想得太高了——你对我来说太有野心了。”
她发出一种介于笑声和抽泣之间的声音,然后举起双手,抚平他的卷发,把他的脸捧在双手之间。
“你什么时候见帕勒姆勋爵?”她问。
“八点钟——在众议院他的房间里。我会给你寄一张纸条。”
“你会早点回家吗?”
“不——别等我。”
她在他脸颊上亲了一下后,放下了手。
“我知道你要去哪里!今天是艾斯特夫人之夜。”
“嗯——你不反对吗?”
“目的?”她耸耸肩。 “只要它能让你开心——你不会发现 一种 今晚就在那儿的女人。”
“上次有两个,”他从沙发上站起来,微笑着说道。
“我认识——匡托克夫人——还有马洛里夫人。我听说现在他们抛弃了她。我不知道又出现了什么新鲜的八卦。当然,”她叹了口气,“我已经脱离了这个世界。但我相信已经有了进展。”
“好吧,我对此一无所知——而且我想我也不想知道。她非常和蔼可亲,在那里我们可以见到每个人。”
“每个人。没礼貌的生物!”她说着,轻轻拉了一下他的衣领,这一套让她不高兴。
“对不起!妈妈!”——他那双笑眯眯的眼睛追着她——“你想直接把我嫁出去吗?——我知道你想的!”
“我什么都不想要,只是你自己想要的。当然,你必须结婚。”
“年轻女人根本不在乎我!”
“威廉!——如果你愿意的话,可以当一只熊,但不要当个白痴!”
“完全正确,”他宣称。 “不管怎样,不是那些令人眼花缭乱的人和那些雄心勃勃的人——只有那些让人兴奋的人才能带走。”
“你很清楚,”她慢慢地说,“现在你可能会嫁给任何人。”
他相当傲慢地把头向后仰去。
“哦!我没有考虑钱之类的事情。好吧,给我时间,妈妈——别催我!现在我最好别再废话了,换好衣服,走吧。再见,亲爱的——工作完成后你就会听到的!”
“威廉,真的!——不要说这些话——至少对除了我之外的任何人。你很清楚”——她把自己摆得相当漂亮——“如果我不知道,尽管你表面上很懒惰,但你会做任何他们想要的工作。 集 为了你自己和国家的荣誉,我绝不会为你动一根手指头!”
威廉·阿什笑了。
“哦!有趣的妈妈!”他说着,再次弯下腰去吻她。 “所以你承认是你干的?”
他高高兴兴地走了,她听见他一步三步飞上楼的声音,仿佛他还是个野性十足的伊顿公学男孩,身后没有三周艰苦的政治斗争,也没有可能决定他一生的采访。在他之前。
他走进二楼自己的起居室,关上门,高兴地环顾四周。这是一间大房间,面朝一条小街,斜对着公园。墙上挂满了书——这些书几乎乍一看就暴露出它们是学生熟悉的同伴。几乎每一卷里面都有长长的纸条,打开后会发现里面有大量的注释和下划线,有些鲁莽和具有破坏性。房间中央有一张大桌子,上面也凌乱地堆满了书籍和文件。其中许多是笔记本,储存着最辛苦、最耐心的工作的证据。一本剑桥书正面朝下放在他们旁边,就像他离开时留下的那样。他母亲的管家是他从小就最好的朋友之一,她是唯一被允许打扫他房间的人,但条件很严格,她必须把发现的所有东西都放回原样。
他拿起书本,一头扎进映入眼帘的希腊合唱部分。 “快活!”他说着,遗憾地叹了口气,把它放下了。 “这些野兽般的政治!”
他一边咕哝着走进更衣室,一边几乎带着脾气地叫来了他的贴身男仆。然而,他的图书馆有一半是政治家的图书馆,精心挑选并详尽阅读。
接听他电话的男仆一眼就理解了他的心情,为他服务。艾什对自己礼服的刷洗行为大发牢骚,并因打领带而变得狂热。尽管如此,在他离开之前,他还是设法从年轻人那里得知了他与女仆订婚的整个故事,并随后给了他一些建议,幽默而尖锐,詹姆斯欣然接受了这些建议,这与他平时的行为截然不同。他班级的圈子。
阿什坐下来,用餐,并见到了首相。这些事情需要时间,直到十一点多,他才出现在圣詹姆斯广场的埃斯特雷夫人家的大厅里。她的大多数客人已经聚集在一起,但他和一位老朋友、一位老熟人一起走上楼梯,菲利普·达雷尔是当时最有才华的作家之一,路易斯·哈曼是艺术家和时尚人士,公爵夫人和公爵夫人的朋友。肖像画家,在许多世界中都受到广泛欢迎的人。
“真是 纯情 他们有,这些房子!”哈曼环顾四周说道。 “英石。詹姆斯之家是最棒的!”
“你还能在哪里找到埃斯特雷夫人呢?”达雷尔微笑着问道。
“是啊——她的品味真好!不过,确实是我建议她把房子拿走的。”
“当然,”达雷尔说。
哈曼疑惑地看了他一眼,然后停了下来,带着一种得意的专有神情摆正了楼梯墙上的一个雕刻。
“我想亲爱的女士像往常一样有一百个灯的奴隶,”艾什说。 “你为她的房子提供建议——其他人帮她买酒——”
“一点也不,我亲爱的朋友,”哈曼生气地说,“好像我不能那样做!”
“哈喽!”当他们靠近客厅门时,达雷尔说道。 “那里有多少人啊!”
因为当管家宣布他们的消息时,门外传来喧闹的谈话声,这意味着确实有很多人——他们很悠闲。
他们艰难地走进去,朝着房间里的那个角落走去,他们知道他们应该在那里找到女主人。阿什受到了来自四面八方的友好言语和祝贺的欢迎,并为他打开了通往著名的“蓝色沙发”的通道,埃斯特雷夫人就坐在那里。
她兴奋地抬起头,打断了与两位似乎占据了她的老年外交官的谈话,示意艾什坐在她旁边。
“那你就进去了?这场战斗很艰难吗?”
“一场硬仗?不好了!一个人如果不进去的话,那他就是个大傻瓜。”
“他们说你说得很好。我想你答应了他们想要的一切——从王冠到下?”
“是的——所有通常无害的东西,”艾什说。
埃斯特雷夫人笑了。然后隔着扇子的顶端看着他。
“嗯!——还有什么?”
“你等不及看报纸了吗?”停顿了一会儿,他微笑着说道。
她好笑地耸耸肩。
“哦! 一世 知道-我当然知道。真有你想象的那么好吗?”
“简直——”年轻人惊讶地张大了嘴。 “我有什么权利期待什么?”
“多么谦虚啊!尽管如此,他们想要你——而且他们很高兴得到你。但你无法拯救他们。”
“人们普遍不希望副部长这么做,不是吗?”
“预计会有一笔不错的交易 您。昨晚我和帕勒姆勋爵谈起过你。”
威廉·阿什脸红了一点。
“你是否?你是个好人。”
“一点也不。我一点也没有奉承你。他也没有。但他们会给你机会!”
她向前倾身,用非常纤细的手指轻轻拍了拍他的衣袖。从这一令人同情的方面来看,埃斯特雷夫人无疑是极具吸引力的。当然,也有很多人不为所动。对他们来说,这是一个大伪装者的变戏法。但这些人通常是女性。无论如何,男人让自己陷入了这种幻想。当然,艾什一直都是这样做的。今晚这个咒语仍然有效;不过,当她的动作引起他特别注意她的脸和表情时,他意识到她身上的细微变化,这让他想起了下午他母亲说的话。眼睛很累;最后,他在它们身上发现了一些岁月和劳累的轻微痕迹。到目前为止,她的主要魅力一直是一种永恒的柔软和感性,这种魅力来自她的整个个性——她白皙的皮肤和头发,她那双带着微笑的大眼睛。可以说,她把年龄问题放在一边。很难想象她还是个孩子。很难想象她是一个老妇人。
“嗯,这一切都非常令人惊讶,”阿什说,“考虑到四个月前我对任何人来说都不在乎一双旧鞋。”
“那是你自己的错。你没有遇到麻烦。而且——还有你可怜的弟弟挡着你的路。”
艾希的眉头皱了起来。
“不,他从来都不是,”他充满活力地说。 “弗雷迪从来不妨碍任何人——尤其是我的。”
“你知道我的意思,”她急忙说道。 “你知道他和我是多么好的朋友——可怜的弗雷迪!但毕竟,世界就是世界。”
“是的——我们都是在某人的坟墓上长大的,”阿什说。然后,正当她意识到自己惹恼了他,必须寻找新的突破口时,他自己找到了。 “告诉我!”他说着,突然警觉地向前倾身——“那位女士是谁?”
他指着第二间客厅门口坐着一个身穿白衣的小身影。显然是一个非常年轻的女孩,周围有一群男人。
“啊!”埃斯特雷夫人说——“我正要说——那是我的女儿凯蒂——”
“凯蒂小姐!”艾什惊讶地说。 “她已经退学了?我还以为她是个小东西呢。”
“她十八岁了。她不是亲爱的吗?你不觉得她很漂亮吗?”
艾希看了一会儿。
“异常迷人!——与其他人不同?”他转向母亲说道。
埃斯特雷夫人微微扬起了眉毛,显然很有趣。
“我不会描述基蒂。她是难以形容的。另外——你必须找到她。一定要去和她谈谈。她一半和我在一起,一半和她的姨妈——格罗斯维尔夫人在一起。”
艾什礼貌地评论了一番。
“哦!我们不要墨守成规!” ” 埃斯特雷夫人说道,带着一点疲倦的神情摆弄着她的扇子——“这是一个令人厌恶的安排。你可能知道,格罗斯维尔夫人和我关系不睦。她说我的坏话——而我——”金发碧眼的头向后仰了一点,雪白的肩膀耸了起来,带着一丝慵懒的轻蔑神情——“好吧,请让我作证,我不会报复!这不值得。但我知道格罗斯维尔之家可以帮助基蒂。那么!——”她半是讽刺、半是无奈的手势完成了这句话。
“凯蒂小姐喜欢社交吗?”
“凯蒂喜欢任何让她高兴或兴奋的事情。”
“那她当然喜欢社交。任何像那样漂亮的人——”
“啊!你太好了!”埃斯特雷夫人轻声说道——“你真可爱!我喜欢你认为她漂亮。我喜欢你这么说。”
艾什感觉和看起来都有些不知所措,但他的同伴弯下腰补充道——“我不知道我是否想让你和她调情!你必须小心。基蒂是最神奇的生物。哦!我现在的生活将会非常不同。我发现她占据了我所有的想法和大部分时间!”
笑容的甜蜜中有一种奢侈的味道,强调了演讲的效果,总而言之,德斯特雷夫人在这种新的母性方面并不像平常那样令人愉快。她的部分魅力也许一直在于这样一个事实:她没有自己的家庭话题,因此总是为别人的话题做好准备。事实上,那些经常到她家来的人习惯于热情地谈论她的“无私”——他们的意思是指她能够轻松地倾听、微笑和奉承。
或许艾什对她提出的这种心照不宣的要求,并不亚于其他人。无论如何,当她轻声细语地谈论她的女儿时,如果不是那个身材矮小、疏远的人物身上有某种引人注目的品质,他会觉得她这一次很烦人。事实上,他全神贯注地听着她说的话,当她被不耐烦的意大利大使重新抓住时,他就走开了,打算慢慢走向基蒂夫人。但他在路上收到了许多祝贺,不久他就看到他的朋友达雷尔被房子里的老常客沃林顿上校介绍给她,沃林顿上校通常与女主人分享这些社交晚会的“主导权”。
基蒂女士漫不经心地向达雷尔先生点点头,他在她旁边坐下。
“对于一个十八岁的女孩来说,这真是一双很酷的手!”艾什想。 “她有一种公主的气质——除了喋喋不休。”
确实是喋喋不休!无论他走到哪里,那轻快而匆忙的声音总是在男性谈话的嗡嗡声中响起。
然而有一次,艾什环顾四周,看看是否可以把达雷尔赶走,却发现那个喋喋不休的人沉默了,然后他发现自己突然感到一阵轻微的颤抖或震惊。
女孩的表情是什么意思?——她在想什么?她专注地看着拥挤的房间,艾什觉得达雷尔的话虽然他的嘴唇动得很快,但她根本没有听懂。黑色的眉毛皱在一起,眉毛下面的眼睛显得痛苦。娇嫩的嘴唇可怜兮兮地微微张开,整个少女般年轻美丽的身躯在他的注视下似乎都缩在一起了。突然,女孩的目光如此宽广而敏锐,捕捉到了艾什的目光。他冲动地向前走去。
“请把我介绍给凯蒂女士,”他抓住沃林顿的手臂说道。
“可怜的孩子!”一个低沉的声音在他耳边说道。
艾什转身看到了路易斯·哈曼。然而,哈曼说话的语气——暗示的、亲密的、居高临下的——让他很恼火,他没有理会就走了。
“凯蒂女士,”沃林顿说,“凯蒂先生。”阿什希望向您介绍。他是你母亲的老朋友。祝贺他——他刚刚进入议会。”
凯蒂女士挺直了身子,阿什所观察到的所有表情都消失了。她鞠了一躬,不像向达雷尔鞠躬那样漫不经心,而是带着一种夸张的庄严,但又不失少女感。
“我从不祝贺任何人,”她摇着头说,“直到我认识他们。”
艾希稍微睁开了眼睛。
“我要等多久?”他微笑着说道,拉了一把椅子到她旁边。
“那要看。你很难认识吗?”她大胆地抬头看着他,而他这边的目光却无法从她身上移开,那张闪闪发光的小脸是如此奇特。头发和皮肤都很白皙,就像她母亲一样,眼睛漆黑而充满火光,脖子洁白纤细,身材不发达,脚和手都非常小。但可以说,吸引他的是性格中的矛盾——比如眼睛里的狂野智慧和其余部分的极端年轻、近乎孩子气之间的矛盾。
他问她是否认识任何人承认自己很容易了解。
“嗯,我很容易知道,”她向后靠了靠,漫不经心地说。 “但是,那么,我不值得认识。”
“可以让人知道吗?”
“哦,是的,当然!你知道吗——当你在那儿的时候,我 愿意的 你应该来跟我谈谈,你就来了。只是,”她兴奋地坐了起来,开始在手指上勾画出自己的句子——“别问我来城里多久了。别问我在巴黎哪里。别问我喜不喜欢球!你看,我立刻警告你”——她坦率地抬起头——“我们不能浪费时间。”
“那么,我不知道怎样才能找到答案。”艾什坚定地说。
“我值得认识吗?”她想了想,然后急切地向前倾身。 “看这里!我就把所有事情一次性告诉你,然后就可以了——不是吗?听。我才十八岁。我十三岁时,也就是爸爸去世的那一年,被送到了白色兄弟会。我 没有做 就像爸爸一样——我很抱歉,但我没有!不过,那也是顺便说一下。这些年来我只见过妈妈一次——她不喜欢孩子。但我姨妈格罗斯维尔有一些法国亲戚——非常、 非常“comme il faut”,你懂的——我过去常常去和他们一起过节。告诉我!——你在法国打猎过吗?”
“从来没有。”艾什说,他的脸上突然闪现出热情的表情,并在紧握的双手中表达出来,这让他既惊讶又好笑。
“哦!真是天堂啊,”她一边说,一边以一种夸张的姿势抬起肩膀——“真是天堂啊。 天堂!首先是旧衣服——男人们看起来真可爱!——然后是角,还有他们的旧方式——si 高贵!—si 杰出!——不像你们那愚蠢的英国狩猎。然后是狗!啊!这 狗狗“——肩膀更高了; “你知道吗,我的表弟亨利实际上给了我一只优秀品种的小狗——此 品种,你知道的——圣休伯特的狗。或者至少他 将 如果妈妈能让我把它带过来就好了。但她不会!想想看!当法国有成千上万的人愿意为其中之一而献出自己的眼睛时。我哭了一整晚——阿伦斯!——faut pa y penser!”——她用一种不耐烦的姿势甩开了眼睛上的头发。 “你知道,我的表兄弟在塞纳-瓦兹省有一座城堡。他们答应明年保罗大公到来时会问我是否会遵守规矩。你看,我一点也不像法国女孩——我有过很多外遇!”
她的眼睛里闪烁着笑意。
艾希也笑了。
“你也要告诉我他们的事吗?”
她挺直身子。
“不!我总是公平竞争——问任何人!哦,我 do 非常想回法国!”她再一次充满了吸引力和孩子气。 “无论如何,我不会留在英国!我已经决定了!”
“花了多长时间?”
“两周,”她慢慢地说——“就两周。”
“看来时间还不够——是吗?”艾什说。 “再给我们一点时间。”
“不——我——我恨你!”基蒂女士说,声音奇怪地低沉了。她的小手指开始敲击她附近的桌子,让艾什非常惊讶的是,他看到她的眼睛里充满了泪水。
突然,他们周围响起了向另一个房间移动的声音。可以听到埃斯特雷夫人在指路。大客厅里腾出了一个空间——里面出现了一张小桌子,一个男仆在上面放了一杯水。
凯蒂女士抬起头来。
“哦这个 可恨 男人!”她说着,向后退了一步。 “不——我不能,我无法忍受。跟我来!”她向艾什招手,迅速逃进内客厅的较远地方,避开了母亲的视线。艾什跟着她,她气喘吁吁地倒在椅子上。
与此同时,外屋聚集在一起,聆听一些人的朗诵。 社会的版本,他们的作者深信它是非常漂亮和普拉迪安风格的。他们确实逗乐了全公司,当每个整洁的个性出现时,大家都笑了起来,鼓起掌来。凯蒂女士要么通过对朗诵者的连续评论来打发时间,这有时会让她的同伴抽搐,要么用她的小手捂住耳朵。
说完,她长长地吸了一口气。
“妈妈怎么样? 能够! 哦!如何 贝特 你们英国人要为这样的人鼓掌!你只有 一种 诗人,你不是吗——一位活着的诗人?啊!如果是他的话我就不该笑!”
“我想你指的是杰弗里·克利夫?”艾什觉得好笑。 “国外似乎没有人听说过其他人。”
“嗯,当然,我只是想认识他!人人都说他好危险!——他让所有女人都爱上他。那是 美味!他不应该逼迫我!你认识他吗?”
“我在伊顿公学就认识他了。我们‘嗖嗖’地在一起,”阿什说。
她询问这句话的意思,当得知后,她脸红了,谴责英国的学校制度非常不适合绅士和有荣誉的人。她的法国表兄弟宁愿死也不愿遭受这样的事情。然后,在她的长篇大论中,她突然停了下来,用她那双明亮的眼睛注视着艾什,用一种变化而稳定的声音问了他一个令人惊讶的问题:
“特兰莫尔女士身体不舒服吗?”
艾希相当吃惊。
“谢谢你,我很好地离开了她。你-”
“妈妈邀请她今晚来吗?”
这下轮到阿什脸红了。
“我不知道。但是——你看,我们正在为我的兄弟哀悼。”
她的脸色瞬间就变了,变得柔和起来。
“你是?我很抱歉。我——我总是说些蠢话。然后——特兰莫尔夫人常常来参加妈妈的聚会——之前——”
她的脸色变得非常苍白。他觉得她的手在颤抖。艾什感到一种非同寻常的怜悯和担忧。
“你看,你母亲对我很好,”他温柔地说。 “我们是一个独立的家庭;我们每个人都交自己的朋友。”
“不——”她深吸了一口气说道。 “不,不是那样的。看看那个房间。”
艾希顺着她轻微的手势看去。这是一间古老的、低矮的房间,镶着白色和金色的镶板,到处展示着一幅意大利的照片——圣人或神圣的家庭,令人愉快的学业——从中可以推断出品味,如果不是 专门知识 埃斯特雷夫人的第一任丈夫黑水勋爵。地板上有很多座位,既不太舒服也不太僵硬。由一个完美地理解谈话“伟大艺术”的物理条件的人安排的。此刻,每个座位都坐满了。远处的楼梯平台上堆满了黑色外套,透过敞开的门可以看到几个站着的人。在内屋里,他们坐的地方,边缘和他们之间几乎没有空间。这是一个非凡的景象。在过去参观这座房子的时候,阿什经常对自己说,这座房子的组成元素更加引人注目。部长和反对党;大使、旅行者、记者;时尚人士和改革人士;这里是一位法国共和官员,除此之外,或许还有一位祖先已经是最古老的人了。 贵族 在圣西门时代;艺术家有大有小,文人有善有淡。所有这些都是埃斯特雷夫人的客人,他们每个人都被带到了家里,为了某种品质,某种维持社交游戏的力量。
但现在,当他看着这个房间时,不是为了取悦自己,而是为了服从凯蒂女士,艾什开始意识到一种新的印象。从数量上看,人群并不比他在初冬时看到的少。但在他看来,它似乎不太显眼,由更粗糙、更普通的物品组成。他看到了一位阴暗的金融家的面孔,这位金融家早已被特兰莫尔夫人的派对驱逐了。在他身后是一位红脸上校,同样因可疑的金钱问题和婚姻问题而引人注目。在更远的角落里,有一位作家的蜡黄侧影,他的书甚至容易引起世人的健康和轻蔑的厌恶。当然,这些人从前从未到过那里。他不记得其中之一了。
他又看了一遍,看得更仔细。这是奇特的感觉,还是聚会本身意识到了它身上发生的变化?总的来说,这里确实比以前更吵闹了。叫喊声和笑声不断。但在一片喧闹声中,某些群体已经与其他群体分开,并在一种刻意的安静中交谈。大多数常客都还在那里。但他们与邻居保持距离。旧有的亲密和团结是否开始瓦解?——以及这些“夜晚”的独特魅力,这种魅力到目前为止还没有抵制从一开始就活跃的社会抵制?
他不确定地回头看了一眼凯蒂女士,她也看着他。
“怎么没有女士?”她突然说道。
他整理思绪。
“它——它一直都是男人的聚会。也许对于这里的一些男人来说——我很抱歉有这样的野蛮人,基蒂女士!——这就是它的魅力。看看那边那个老家伙!他是最有名的老男孩。每个人都邀请他——但他从来没有离开过他的巢穴,而是来到这里。我妈妈就是找不到他——尽管她经常尝试。”
他指着一位头发蓬乱、头发花白的绅士,他身材矮小,身材圆润,总之,就像一个活生生的鸡蛋,他正在向不远处的一群人讲话。
凯蒂小姐的脸上露出了各种各样的表情。
“伦敦有很多这样的派对吗?女士们被邀请了,却不来吗?我——我不——明白!”
阿什善意地看着她。
“伦敦没有其他女主人像你母亲一样聪明,”他宣称,然后试图改变话题。但她没有理睬。
“有一天,在格罗斯维尔阿姨家,”她慢慢地说,“我问我的两个表兄弟今晚是否可以来,他们看着我,好像我生气了!哦, do 跟我说话!”她冲动地走近,艾什注意到达雷尔站在通讯门口,饶有兴趣地转头看着他们。 “我喜欢你的脸——当我看到你穿过房间的第一刻。你知道吗——你——你很帅!”她向后退了一步,目光严肃而专注地盯着他。
艾什第一次意识到自己很恼火。
“我希望你不会介意我这么说”——他的语气有点短——“但在这个国家我们不说这些话。他们不太——很有礼貌。”
“不是吗?”她的眉毛拱起,嘴唇垂下,露出悔恨的表情。 “我总是称呼我的法国表弟亨利·拉·弗雷奈 (Henri la Fresnay), 亲爱的! 我确信他喜欢它!”口音近乎哀怨。
艾什本能地想说,如果是这样的话,那个法国表弟一定是个混蛋。但就在那一瞬间,他发现自己有一种渴望,想把她的小手握在自己的手里,按着它们——她看起来像个孩子,那么精致,又那么孤独。事实上,他确实偷偷地弯下腰,忘记了达雷尔。
“我想让你来看我妈妈?”他对她微笑着说道。 “请格罗斯维尔夫人带你来。”
“我可以?但是——”她审视着他的脸,仍然渴望倾诉心中冲动的、不受控制的秘密。但他的表情阻止了她,她不满地叹了口气。
“是的——我会来。 We——你和我——也有点堂兄弟关系——不是吗?我们在格罗斯维尔谈论过你。”
“我们的‘曾祖父’是同一个人吗?”他笑着说道。 “希望这是一个像样的‘伟人’。”我的一些人并没有什么值得夸耀的。好吧,无论如何,让我们 be 表兄弟——不管我们是不是,不是吗?
她答应了,整个脸都红了。
“我们会见面——下周!”她得意地说:“在乡下。”
“是吗?——在格罗斯维尔公园。这真是令人高兴。”
“和 然后 我会征求你的建议——我会让你告诉我——一百件事!这是一笔划算的交易——介意!”
“猫咪!快来帮我倒茶——有宝贝!”
凯蒂女士转过身来。一条路在人群中打开,埃斯特雷夫人在众人的护送下出现,出现了钻石和淡粉色缎子的幻象,引领着通往晚餐室的路,灯光“反射”,伴随着大量的香槟,这些晚上总是关门的。
女孩站了起来,她的同伴也站了起来。埃斯特夫人迅速地、半讽刺地看了艾什一眼,但他的目光只集中在基蒂女士身上,以及她在母亲声音的触动下发生的转变。她带着一种独特而自觉的尊严跟在埃斯特雷夫人身后,她的白色裙子扫过,精致的头向后靠在她瘦弱的脖子和肩膀上。黑色的人群围住了她;艾希的目光追随着那道纤细的身影,直到消失。
极致的青春——天真——抗议——痛苦——他与基蒂·布里斯托尔的第一次谈话到底是不是就是因为这些感人而恳求的印象而给他留下的?然而又怎样一点点 埃图尔迪!有教养的英国女孩多么缺乏储备、本能和胆怯啊!
达雷尔和艾什一起走回家,穿过一个有风的夜晚,连伦敦的草地和丁香丛都散发着四月的香味。
“好吧,”当他们走进格林公园时,达雷尔说道,“所以你安全了。恭喜你,老伙计。还要别的吗?”
“是的。他们给了我希克森的位置。他们更蠢,你不觉得吗?
“好的!比尔,我敢说,你现在已经踏上马镫了!希望你能继续对像我这样的可怜虫保持礼貌。”
说话的人微笑着抬头,但语气和笑容都不是很亲切。艾什感到了之前在告诉达雷尔好运的消息时曾经历过的一两次的尴尬。达雷尔身上似乎有某种东西对此感到不满——表面上却表现出庆幸。
然而,他们继续谈论政治时刻及其前景,以及阿什的个人事务。至于最后一个,达雷尔问道,艾希则有些不情愿地回答道。看来他的津贴要大幅增加,事实上,他瘫痪的父亲急于让他在庄园收入中占有很大一部分,其中一栋乡间别墅将移交给他。他,等等。
“这当然意味着他们希望你结婚,”达雷尔说。 “好吧,你只要扔掉手帕就可以了。”
他说话时,他们正经过一盏灯,灯光照在他苍白的长脸上——一张不满的脸——凹陷的大眼睛和凹陷的脸颊。
阿什认为这句话是“废话”,并试图通过讨论他们刚刚离开的聚会来摆脱自己的事情。
“她是怎么把这么多人聚集在一起的?太惊人了!”
“嗯,我一直很喜欢埃斯特雷夫人,”达雷尔说,“但是,据我所知,她把那个女孩带过来是一件非常卑鄙的事。”
“你的意思是?”——艾什犹豫了——“她自己的立场太可疑了?”
“值得怀疑,我亲爱的朋友!”达雷尔不悦地笑了。 “我从来没有真正理解这一切意味着什么,直到有一天晚上,格罗斯维尔老夫人告诉了我——至少比我以前知道的要多。格罗斯维尔一家正走上战争道路,他们把这个可怜的孩子的到来视为最后一根稻草。”
“为什么?”艾什说。
达雷尔耸耸肩。 “嗯,你知道埃斯特雷夫人的继女——老黑水的女儿的故事吗?”
“啊!他的第一次婚姻?我知道这与继女有关。”阿什含糊地说。
达雷尔开始重复他与格罗斯维尔夫人的谈话。这个故事很快就会变成一个黑色的故事。最后,艾什站在穿过格林公园的宽阔人行道上。
“听着,”他坚决地说,“别再告诉我了。我不想再听了。”
“为什么?”达雷尔惊讶地问道。
“因为”——艾希犹豫了一下。 “好吧,我不想再去埃斯特雷夫人那里了。再说了,我们刚刚吃了她的盐。”
“你是一个好朋友!”达雷尔不无冷笑地说。
艾什被这语气激怒了,但试图不表现出来。他只是坚称他知道格罗斯维尔夫人有点老了。当然有事情发生了;但对于那些至少接受了埃斯特雷夫人热情款待的人来说,相信最坏的情况似乎是一种耻辱。他的言语中夹杂着一种粗心和谨慎的奇怪情绪,这是这个人的典型特征。看来他既太懒惰,不愿介入此事,又太侠义,不愿谈论这件事。
达雷尔目前保持着相当愤怒的沉默。没有人喜欢在自己的故事中受到检查,尤其是当检查暗示着他最好的朋友的冷落时。突然,记忆在他面前浮现出艾什和基蒂女士在一起的小照片——他俯身在她身上,以他巨大而英俊的和蔼可亲,而她则抬起头来。达雷尔感到一阵嫉妒,然后是厌恶。确实,像阿什这样的人太容易以自己的方式统治世界了。此外,他们还要摆姿势,这也太过分了。
埃斯特雷夫人之夜过去两周多后,威廉·阿什发现自己乘坐了一列米德兰火车,前往剑桥郡格罗斯维尔夫人的家。当四月的乡村从他身边溜走时——就像一张苍白的脸恢复了生机和色彩——阿什把他的时间花在闲逛周六报纸和同样闲逛的基蒂·布里斯托尔的梦想上。自从第一次认识她以来,他已经见过她两三次了——一次是在格罗斯维尔夫人带她去参加的舞会上,还有一次是在下议院的露台上,他和她一起在那里漫步了很长时间。有趣而刺激的时刻,而她的母亲则招待了一群上了年纪的政治家。第二天,在特兰莫尔夫人的邀请下,在她儿子的推动下,她独自一人来——她自己的选择——与特兰莫尔夫人一起喝茶。艾什本人在访问即将结束时到达,发现了一位时尚的凯蒂女士,举止僵硬,她自己意识到自己不可能给人留下好印象,脸涨得通红。一看到他,她就放松下来,说了很多话,但并不明智。当她离开后,阿什几乎无法从母亲那里得到任何意见,但母亲却表示希望她能来乡下看望他们。
从那时起,他坦白地对自己承认,在他新的官方和行政工作的间隙,他一直被这个奇怪的孩子、她的眼睛、她的优雅——甚至在她骄傲的害羞时——以及她的方式的记忆所困扰。拜访特兰莫尔夫人后,当他把她送进出租车时,她的小手一直在他的手中徘徊,一种无声的、令人惊讶的恳求。他也被她的命运和周围环境的消息所困扰。埃斯特雷夫人的真实情况到底是什么?在之前的几周里,阿什听到了一些丑陋的谣言,称该季度财务陷入困境,债务攀升至高位,危机甚至可能消失。随后,其他人也听到了这些谣言,大意是说,德斯特雷家族的老朋友和支持者沃林顿上校已经出手相救,危机已经避免,每周三个晚上的活动非常顺利。众所周知,并受到如此多的关注,将会继续下去;阿什很清楚,在故事的这一阶段中,没有丝毫丑闻的气息,可以说,一切都是丑闻。
与此同时,关于她母亲的历史和她母亲的地位,凯蒂女士了解到了哪些新的、令人悲伤的事实呢?天哪!它 是 对那个女孩很严厉。达雷尔是对的。为什么不把她留给她的法国朋友和亲戚呢?或者把她交给格罗斯维尔夫人?埃斯特雷夫人多年来很少见到她,甚至根本没有见过她。因此,她对她母亲的幸福来说不可能是必要的,在她进入社会的那一刻,如此要求她确实是残酷的,而埃斯特雷夫人只能挡在她的路上。因为,尽管女孩母亲的客人中可以找到许多与女孩结婚有利的男人,但埃斯特雷夫人的“夜晚”的影响肯定不是婚姻的。然而,就凯蒂女士的情况而言,不可预见的情况肯定是有可能发生的。在那个母亲的背景下,她应该嫁给什么样的男人——什么样的男人可以安全地冒险嫁给她?
他在指定的路边站下车,环顾四周寻找其他客人——就像打牌的人检查他的手一样。玛丽·莱斯特(Mary Lyster),一位内阁部长——担任着一个装饰性的办公室,并作为一种必要的附属品从一个部委调到另一个部委,公众永远不知道为什么——部长的第二任妻子、奥地利大使馆的一名随员、两名议会议员和一名知名记者——阿什轻率地自言自语,到目前为止,王牌并不多。但他总是很高兴见到玛丽,他走向她,照顾她的包,并让她穿上斗篷,以表弟的礼貌。在去房子的路上,他和玛丽在公共汽车的一个角落里闲聊,而内阁部长和编辑则去睡觉了,两位议员对奥地利武官勇敢地练习了一些法语。
“这是一个大型聚会吗?”他问他的同伴。
“哦!他们总是挤满了房子。昨天有很多人下来了。”
“嗯,我并不好奇,”艾什说,“除了一个人。”
“谁?”
“基蒂·布里斯托尔女士。”
玛丽·莱斯特笑了。
“是的,可怜的孩子,我从格罗斯维尔女孩那里听说她要来这里。”
“为什么叫‘可怜的孩子’?”
“我不知道。我承认这是完全错误的表达方式。应该是‘可怜的女主人’。”
“哦!——格罗斯维尔一家在抱怨?”
“不。他们只是提心吊胆。他们永远不知道她下一步会做什么。”
“这对格罗斯维尔一家来说多好啊!”
“你认为社会因冲击而变得更好吗?”
“无论如何,格罗斯维尔夫人可以用它们。多么高明的女人啊!但我会支持凯蒂女士。”
“我还没见过她,”玛丽说。 “我听说她是个长相很奇怪的小东西。”
“非常漂亮,”阿什说。
“真的吗?”玛丽难以置信地扬起了眉毛。 “好吧,现在我就知道你欣赏什么了。”
“哦,我的品味非常广泛——我钦佩这么多人,”阿什说道,瞥了一眼身旁穿着考究的优雅人士。玛丽的脸色有点红,但没被发现;马车驶入格罗斯维尔公园有顶棚的门廊时发出的嘎嘎声打断了他们的谈话。
“嗯,我很高兴你能进来,”格罗斯维尔夫人用她饱满而响亮的声音说道,“因为我们是有联系的。但我当然认为我们这边刚才失去一个席位是一场巨大的灾难。”
“你真是太有把握了!”艾什说。 “最近你已经完全按照自己的方式生活了。想想朴茨茅斯吧!”
然而,当格罗斯维尔夫人看到他戏谑的表情时,她发现自己根本没有想到朴茨茅斯。她更倾向于想到威廉·阿什。他长得多么英俊啊!她向特兰莫尔夫人心中夹杂着羡慕和欣赏的叹息。
可怜的苏珊确实因大儿子的去世而遭受了极大的痛苦。但两兄弟中更英俊、更能干的一个仍然属于她——而且庄园也很安全。格罗斯维尔夫人想起了她自己的三个女儿,她们相貌平平,几乎没有遗产。还有那个自以为是的年轻人,她的继承人,她很难说服她的丈夫为了面子而每年邀请他一次。
“我们怎么这么早?”艾什看着手表说道。 “我想我应该不光彩地迟到。”
因为他和格罗斯维尔夫人拥有这间图书馆。这是一间精致的房间,四周都是书墙,有古色古香的柱子和亚当装饰。在色彩丰富、灯光明亮的空间里,坐着格罗斯维尔夫人的身影——僵硬地挺立着——她的侧面,有人说她像一匹马,有人说她像萨沃纳罗拉,她花白的头发上戴着一顶古老的威尼斯尖顶帽子她的黑色天鹅绒连衣裙,以及放在腿上的那双手指长、丑陋却又杰出的手,都说明了这一点;尤其是与她同伴的漫不经心的轻松和清新的青春形成鲜明对比。
格罗斯维尔公园盛产二流古董。书柜上方有一个希腊罗马头像,阿什经常被拿来与它相比较。当他现在靠着壁炉站着时,半身像上密密麻麻的卷发和眼睛——有点“tête”——无疑在活生生的人身上以某种亲密的方式重复了出来。那些因社交疏忽或其他原因而被他冒犯的人,当他们想贬低他时,就会说他“英俊”。这话有一定道理。
“你没有收到关于晚餐的消息吗?”格罗斯维尔夫人说。然后,他摇摇头:“帕金非常疏忽。我总是告诉他,当派对达到两位数时,他就会失去理智。由于基蒂·布里斯托尔错过了圣潘克拉斯的火车,半小时前才到达,我们不得不推迟了一刻钟吃晚饭。顺便说一句,我想你已经见过她了——在那个女人家里?”
“我一两周前在Madame d'Estrées'见过她,”阿什说道,显然他正全神贯注于他那套白色背心的问题。
“你觉得她怎么样?”
“一位迷人的年轻女士,”艾什微笑着说道。 “我还应该想什么?”
“一只被扔进狼里的羔羊,”格罗斯维尔夫人冷酷地说。 “那个女人怎么 可以 做这种事!”
“我在凯蒂女士身上没有看到任何羔羊的影子,”阿什说。 “那你把我也算进狼群里了吗?”
格罗斯维尔夫人犹豫了一会儿,然后坚持她的颜色。
“你不应该去这样的房子,”她大胆地说,“我想我这么说并没有冒犯的意思,威廉,因为我从小就认识你。”
“你爱说什么就说什么吧,我亲爱的格罗斯维尔夫人!那么你——相信埃斯特雷夫人的邪恶之事吗?
他的语气很轻,但目光却在向远方的门外看去,仿佛在召唤同客出现,保护自己。
格罗斯维尔夫人没有回答。艾什的目光又回到了她身上,他被她脸上的表情吓了一跳。他一直认识并不情愿地钦佩她是一位出色的《旧约》基督徒,从她那里,有关她的敌人(无论是个人的还是政治的)的咒骂诗篇的语言,可能比他认识的任何其他人更自然地流露出来。阶级和育种。但这种厌恶——这种蔑视的热情——这种记忆的热度!——这些确实是新的,它们的火焰改变了那张苍老、灰色的脸。
“我认识不少坏人,”格罗斯维尔夫人低声说道,“还有不少邪恶的女人。但就卑鄙和卑鄙而言,我所知道的黑水妻子的女人在我的经历中是无与伦比的!”
停顿了一会儿。然后艾希用和她自己一样严肃的声音说道:
“我很遗憾听到你这么说,部分是因为我喜欢德斯特雷夫人,部分是因为——我特别被凯蒂夫人所吸引。”
格罗斯维尔夫人猛地抬起头来。 “别娶她,威廉!——别娶她!”她出身不好。”
艾什恢复了他的快乐。
“她是你自己的侄女。难道一个人就不敢——基于这样的保证吗?”
“一点也不,”格罗斯维尔夫人不高兴地说。 “我是一个失亲者。此外,一位卫理公会家庭女教师救了我;她在我十八岁时改变了我,我欠她一切。但是我的兄弟们——以及我们所有其他人!”她举起眼睛和双手。 “说这些话有什么好处呢?全世界都知道。我们很多人都疯了——有时我想我在基蒂身上看到的不仅仅是古怪。”
“埃斯特雷夫人是谁?”艾什说。为什么他一听到那个女孩的名字就皱起眉头?——用那张坚硬的嘴?
格罗斯维尔夫人微笑着。
“好吧,我可以告诉你很多关于这一点的事情,”她说。 “啊!——再来一次!”
门开了,进来了一群客人,七嘴八舌,绸缎簌簌作响。
每个人都聚集在一起;晚餐已经宣布了;白发、患有痛风的格罗斯维尔勋爵正处于一种极度不耐烦的状态,就连邻座大教堂声音温和的院长在教区会议上对他的演讲表示赞赏时也无法抑制。
“艾德丽娜,我们还需要再等吗?”房子的主人愤怒地看着他的妻子说道。
“当然不是——她已经有足够的时间了。”格罗斯维尔夫人说着,按响了身边的门铃。
大厅里突然一阵喧哗,小狗愤怒的吠叫声,女孩子的笑骂声,丝裙的沙沙声。一位感到震惊的管家听从了格罗斯维尔夫人的召唤,把门打开,凯蒂夫人冲了进来。
“哦!非常抱歉。”新来者语气绝望地说。 “但我不能把他留在楼上,莉娜阿姨!他吃了我的一只鞋子,又开始吃另一只。朱莉害怕他。上周他咬了她。 XNUMX年XNUMX月XNUMX日 他坐在我的膝盖上?我知道我可以让他安静!”
图书馆里的所有谈话都停止了。二十人惊讶的转头看去。他们看到大房间的尽头有一个身材苗条的白衣女孩,她左臂夹着一只灰色的小猎犬,正在与她搏斗,她用迷人的目光转向格罗斯维尔夫人。那条狗半是害怕,半是凶猛,狂吠着。喧闹声中几乎听不见凯蒂女士的声音,她因为努力控制自己的冲锋而脸色涨红。她的嘴唇笑了;她的眼神恳求着。为了增加幻影的效果,所有英国人的目光都集中在她身上,立刻发现她的着装明显奇怪。基蒂夫人的长袍是法国时尚的极致,当时流行的是荷叶边。她很 肩部; 她那一头浓密的金发,高高地举起,在她的小脸周围显得有一种精心设计的野性,上面有一只猩红色的大蝴蝶,在书本的暗色背景下闪闪发亮。
“猫咪!” ”格罗斯维尔夫人愤怒地走上前说道,“多么可怕的噪音!请立即将狗交给帕金。”
凯蒂女士只是将这只挣扎的动物抱得更紧。
“ ,莉娜阿姨!——我担心他会咬人!但他会对我很好。”
“为什么 做了 你带他来了吗,基蒂?我们晚餐不能吃这样的生物!”格罗斯维尔夫人愤怒地说。
格罗斯维尔勋爵走在他妻子身后。
“你好吗,基蒂?你最好把狗放下来,介绍给兰金先生,他要带你去吃晚饭吗?
基蒂女士摇了摇头,但还是走上前来,仍然紧紧抓住狗,向阿什微笑并点了点头,并向出现在她面前的年轻保守党成员鞠了一躬。
“你不介意他吗?”她说道,黑眸中闪过一丝笑意。 “我们会共同管理他,不是吗?”
年轻人被她的美丽和陌生所迷惑,满怀希望地低声答应了。格罗斯维尔勋爵带着一种尽管天塌下来仍决定吃晚饭的男人的神情,向内阁大臣的妻子伊迪丝·曼利夫人伸出手臂,然后朝餐厅走去。宾客川流不息。突然,小狗发现地板上有一个从格罗斯维尔夫人的工作台上滚下来的羊毛球,它在恶作剧的狂喜中从情妇的手臂上逃脱,飞到了球上。基蒂追了上去。羊毛先展开,然后抓住;桌子翻倒了,里面的东西都乱七八糟地扔到了格罗斯维尔夫人的路上,格罗斯维尔夫人挽着这位既有趣又惊讶的牧师的手臂,克制着愤怒,等待着她的客人们过去。
“我永远无法克服这一点,”凯蒂女士说,她靠在椅子上,仍然气喘吁吁,完全无法吃掉快速连续提供给她的任何食物。
“我不知道你值得这么做,”艾什说,把脸转向她,脸上表情极其严肃。事实上,房间里其他人的注意力也集中在他的同伴身上。确实,大家议论纷纷,普遍假装基蒂夫人的诉讼现在可能会被忽视。但事实上,每一位客人,无论男女,都在偷偷地注视着那只红蝴蝶和它下面闪闪发光的脸;艾什很清楚这一点。
“我发誓这不是我的错,”基蒂尊严地说。 “我不被允许拥有我应该拥有的狗。你永远不会发现一只圣休伯特的狗居高临下地穿着卧室拖鞋!但由于我必须养一只狗——沃灵顿上校三天前给了我一只——而且它已经毁坏了妈妈一半的东西,除了我之外没有人能管理它,所以我只能带它来,并相信上帝。 ”
“我来过这里很多次了,”阿什说,“但我从来没有在保护区里见过狗。你知道皮特曾经在图书馆写过一篇演讲吗?”
“是吗?我确信它从未像 Ponto 那样引起如此轰动。”凯蒂的脸上突然笑了起来,她把笑藏在手里。
“你厚颜无耻,”艾什说。 “但是你要怎么安抚格罗斯维尔夫人呢?”
凯蒂不再笑了。她挺直身子,严肃而敏锐地看着姨妈。
“我不知道。但我必须以某种方式去做。我不想再有任何担心了。”
她的语气和面貌发生了如此大的变化,以至于艾什对她投以友好审视的目光。
“你担心过吗?”他压低声音说道。
她耸耸肩,没有回答。但很快她就迫不及待地重新引起了他的注意,毫无顾忌地将他从他带去吃饭的那位女士身边抢了过来。
“明天早上你愿意和我一起散步吗?”
“自豪,”阿什说。 “什么时候?”
“一旦我们能摆脱这些人,”她说,她的眼睛扫视着桌子。然后,当它停了下来,停留在对面玛丽·莱斯特的脸上时,她突然问他那位女士可能是谁。
阿什通知了她。
“你的表亲?”她说,微微皱眉看着他。 “你的表亲?我不——呃,我想我不会喜欢她。”
“这真是太可惜了,”阿什说。
“为我?”她怀疑地说。
“当然是为了双方!我母亲非常喜欢莱斯特小姐。她经常和我们在一起。”
“哦!”基蒂说道,又看了看对面的脸。然后他听到她在扇子后面一半对自己一半对他说:
“她对我一点兴趣都没有!她没有想法!我确信她没有任何想法。她有吗?
她突然转向艾希。
“每个人都说她很聪明。”
凯蒂一脸轻蔑。
“这与此无关。并不是聪明人有想法。”
艾什取笑了她话中的意思,直到他很快发现她还太年轻,缺乏经验,无法平静地接受他的抽插并予以回应。她可以大胆地出击或回应;但它仍然是谈话的原材料;它需要轻松和优雅。她自己显然也意识到了这一点,因为很快她的脸颊就红了,态度也动摇了。
“我想你们——每个人——都认为她很讨人喜欢吧?”她尖锐地说,眼睛又转向莱斯特小姐。
“她是一位非常出色的八卦人士,”阿什说。 “我总是去找她了解消息。”
凯蒂又看了一眼。
“我看得出来,她已经讨厌我了。”
“在半小时内?”
女孩点点头。
“她看了我两次——大约。但她已经下定决心,并且永远不会改变。”然后她突然改变了语气,环顾房间。 “我想你们的英式餐厅都是这样的吧?一个人可能坐在灵车里。还有照片——不! 恐怖之物”
她再次急躁地抬起肩膀,皱着眉头看着格罗斯维尔勋爵扮演的MFH的巨大全身像,这确实是维多利亚早期粗俗的杰作。
然后,她突然、匆忙地转向他,带着那种时常改变她表情的温柔,她转向他,试图做出弥补。
“但是图书馆——那是 良好-啊! tr-rès, tr-rès bien”
说话时,她的r音微微滚动,带着一种迷人的效果,她容光焕发地看着他,仿佛攻击和弥补同样是她的特权,她不要求任何人的允许。
“你还没有看到这里有什么可看的,”艾什微笑着说道。 “看你后面。”
少女扭动纤细的脖子,惊呼道。因为艾什的椅子后面是家里的宝贝。这是十八世纪最著名的大师之一的《儿童之舞》。从黑暗的墙壁上,它散发出花朵般的光彩,一种色彩斑斓、优雅的景象。孩子们在金色的空气中翩翩起舞,他们的身体随着一种“闻所未闻的艺术旋律”而摇摆,比所有凡人的曲调都甜美;他们精致的脸上洋溢着喜悦。天空、草地和树木似乎在抚摸他们;柔和的阳光覆盖着他们;花朵拂过他们的脚。
凯蒂再次转过身去,沉默了。是艾希的幻想,还是她的脸色变得苍白?
“你喜欢它吗?”他问她。她转向他,这是他们相识以来他第二次看到她的眼里闪烁着泪水。
“太漂亮了!”她用力说道——几乎是愤怒的努力。 “我不想再看到它了。”
“我以为这会给你带来快乐,”艾什温柔地说,突然意识到她希望自己没有意识到玛丽·莱斯特看着他们俩时脸上带着一丝有趣的表情。
“确实如此,”基蒂说着,偷偷地用蕾丝手帕擦眼泪。 “但是”——她的声音压低了——“当一个人不高兴的时候——非常不高兴的时候——诸如此类的事情——诸如此类的事情 天堂-伤害!哦,什么啊 傻瓜 我是!”她坐直了身子,环顾四周。
一阵停顿。然后艾什用另一种声音说道:
“看这里,你知道这是不行的。我以为我们会成为表兄弟。”
“出色地?”基蒂没有看他,冷漠地说。
“我知道我应该接受值得尊敬的堂兄弟的劝告?”
“出色地?”基蒂又说道,一边揉碎了面包。 “我不能在这里做,不是吗?”
艾希笑了。
“好吧,无论如何,明天早上我们要去花园里品尝一下,不是吗?”
“我想是的,”基蒂说。过了一会儿,她看着右手边的邻居,那位年轻的政治家,她还没有向他说过一句话。
“他叫什么名字?”她低声问道。艾希重复了一遍。
“也许我应该和他谈谈?”
“你当然应该这么做,”艾什微笑着说道,然后转向他带进来的那位女士,让她自由了。
当女士们起身时,格罗斯维尔夫人领着我们来到大客厅,这个房间就像图书馆一样,有一些特色,风格淡雅,然而,并没有因为书籍的令人愉快的存在而温暖和和谐。墙壁为蓝色和白色,镶有灰泥浮雕。几张全家福、对僵硬人物的僵硬处理,都被放置在各自面板的正中央。有几箱瓷器和几张擦得锃亮的桌子。地板上铺着格罗斯维尔夫人因其“欢乐”而选择的深红色布鲁塞尔地毯,壁炉前有一块白色的大羊皮地毯。在女士们到来之前,花盆里放着几朵风信子,明亮的火光发出了唯一欢快而活泼的音符。
不过,对于英国人来说,这个房间有一种冷酷的魅力,而且充满了 历史。无论如何,基蒂·布里斯托环顾四周时,它根本不值得颤抖。
但她几乎没有时间细想这个房间及其意义,因为格罗斯维尔夫人接近她的方式仍然显示出晚餐前灾难的迹象。
“基蒂,我想你还不认识莱斯特小姐——玛丽·莱斯特——她想被介绍给你认识。”
玛丽微笑着走上前来。凯蒂伸出一只无力的手,他们站在地板中央交谈了几句,而其他客人则找到了座位。
“多么迷人的对比啊!”伊迪丝·曼利夫人在格罗斯维尔夫人耳边说道。她向站着的两人点点头——被玛丽缎子连衣裙的优美笔直线条、她圆润的身材、她椭圆形的头和脸所震惊,然后被她身边那个小小、颤抖、暴躁的生物所震惊,如此杰出,尽管有翻滚的荷叶边和丝带,在所有的精心设计中却如此直接和重要。
“基蒂穿得太过分了,”格罗斯维尔夫人说。 “我希望我们很快就能改变这一点。我的女儿们会把她带到她们的女人身边。”
伊迪丝夫人慢慢地抬起镜片,看着格罗斯维尔的两个女孩。然后回到基蒂。
与此同时,莱斯特小姐和她的同伴之间正在敷衍地提问和回答。玛丽说话时的表情非常和蔼可亲。人们可能会称其为放纵,甚至可能用一个形容词来暗示更微妙的优越感。基蒂以同样的“庄严举止”来迎接它,阿什曾多次在她身上观察到这种举止,这种举止可能是从某个法国模特那里学来的,并在拍摄时被讽刺了。与此同时,她的眼睛注意到玛丽的脸和衣服,听着的时候,她的小牙齿咬着下唇,仿佛她在抑制不耐烦。就在莱斯特小姐清晰地讲述着一些信息的过程中,基蒂突然急躁地转过身来。她听到房间另一边传来一些话;她热切地看着说话的人。
“那是谁?”她询问道。
玛丽·莱斯特带着一种强烈的打断感回答说,她相信这位女士是格罗斯维尔的法国家庭女教师。但就在她说话的时候,基蒂抛弃了她,让她站在客厅中央,逃兵则逃过客厅,在惊讶的小姐身旁倒下,猛烈地抓住法国女人的手,用双手握住。自己的。
“Vous parlez Français?——vous êtes Française?啊!我已经习惯了!沃永斯! voons!——causons un peu!”
她弯下身子,开始说法语,她奇异的、娇小的美感中的所有元素都在快速的声音和节奏下涌入火焰和动作,就像一个被音乐点燃的舞者。事情的起因是微不足道的。这位法国女人很可能表现出一种天生的困惑。但在这个微小的时刻,女孩却表现出了一种生气勃勃、一种激情,从而美化了它。就像山上狂暴的雨流奔涌而出,注入第一个出现的通道。
“多么美丽的法语啊!”伊迪丝夫人轻声对玛丽·莱斯特说道,她在她旁边找到了座位。
玛丽·莱斯特笑了。
“当然,她一直在法国修道院上学。”不知何故,语气暗示解释消除了表演中的所有优点。
“恐怕这些法国修道院学校根本不符合其应有的样子,”格罗斯维尔夫人说。
上升到金字塔的高度,她宽大的云纹连衣裙在她身后膨胀,她灰色的头顶上华丽的蕾丝帽子和黑色天鹅绒 抹胸她扫过房间,来到院长的妻子温斯顿夫人面前,她正坐在那儿,出神地沉默着,注视着基蒂夫人。这种沉默和关注让女主人很恼火。在格罗斯维尔夫人看来,对这种类型的女孩要做的第一件事就是向她们证明她们会 不能 允许垄断社会。
然而,存在自然垄断,而且它们并不容易对付。
先生们一回来,晚餐时被她粗暴对待的兰金先生、庄园的年轻代理人、教区的牧师、奥地利随员、内阁部长和院长,都表现出了强烈的倾向。房间的那一侧似乎被基蒂女士用力控制着。院长尤其不容否认。他害羞地坐在法国家庭女教师让出的座位上,交叉着穿着丝袜的瘦腿,一副悠闲自在的样子。他和基蒂之间甚至有某种奇怪的相似之处,艾什从远处就注意到了这一点。院长是一位很有见识的人,出身于一个历史悠久的家庭,在他的男性化程度中,他的计划与十八岁的女孩一样微型,一样精致。他穿着及膝马裤,系着围裙,精致的白头散发着与她相似的自然魅力和活力——尽管随着时间的流逝而变得柔和,由于办公室的缘故而显得庄严。他开始急切地和她谈论巴黎。他的父亲曾在路易·菲利普手下担任过一段时间的大使,他对圣奥诺雷郊区的大宅以及奥尔良派的部长和文人有着孩童般的回忆。瞧!基蒂立刻就遇见了他,她的光芒和光芒让老人着迷。而且,这位盛气凌人的小姐似乎很会说话。她听说过院长提到的名人和伟大事件;她确实对这类事情有着与生俱来的、令人惊讶的兴趣;最重要的是,她的举止与旧时的一样,时而温柔,时而大胆,经过深思熟虑,正如格罗斯维尔夫人无疑会说的那样,只是为了愚弄他们。
在她表兄弟的家里,她似乎与老人、奥尔良主义和波旁政权——甚至是帝国的幸存者交谈过;坐在他们的脚边,是一个身材矮小的、兴奋的英雄崇拜者。然后盲目地冲进与他们有关的回忆录和书籍。那么,在这个法国世界里,这个孩子除了打猎和听她表弟亨利的奉承之外,还有时间做其他事情吗?艾什本来应该全心全意地照顾院长的妻子;但他和她大部分时间都在听凯蒂主持的圈子里的俏皮话和笑声。
“我亲爱的年轻女士,”迪恩高兴地喊道,“我从来没有找到任何人能够谈论这些事情——这真是令人惊讶。啊, 现在,我们英国人对法国一无所知——他们也不了解我们。哎呀,那时我只是个小学生,我对他们的社会、他们的书、他们的书充满热情。 扮演——我敢承认吗?”——他压低声音,看了一眼女主人——“最重要的是他们的戏剧!”
基蒂拍了拍手。院长看了她一眼,继续说道:
“我妈妈分享了它。当我来伊顿公学度假时,我和她住在法兰西剧院。啊,那些日子啊! I 还记得《埃尔纳尼》中的马尔斯小姐吗?”
凯蒂在座位上蹦蹦跳跳。于是,就在她离开巴黎之前,一位朋友带她去看了法兰西喜剧院的当红偶像、年轻而令人惊叹的女演员莎拉·伯恩哈特(Sarah Bernhardt)饰演的多娜·索尔(Doña Sol)。她和院长之间立即开始了一场激动人心的二重唱。新旧的比较,女主角的竞争,一场激烈而批判性的辩论,立刻让房间里的所有其他谈话都安静下来,格罗斯维尔勋爵站在院长身后,目瞪口呆,震惊不已,毫无疑问地反映出这并不完全是院长教区会议的会议。
老人确实忘记了自己的年龄,女孩确实忘记了青春;他们平等地相遇,在诗意的基础上,直到凯蒂突然跳出来,为了证明自己的观点,开始模仿最后一幕伟大的爱情场景中的莎拉,然后以唐·鲁伊的身份抓住命运,打破了这一局面。陷入恋人的狂喜之中。她完全忘记了格罗斯维尔的客厅,那些瞪着眼睛的格罗斯维尔女孩,其他的面孔,或惊讶或严厉,或中立或友好。悲剧诗篇、优美诗篇和热情洋溢的浪潮涌现出来;虽然没什么可说的,但至少必须说,以前在格罗斯维尔公园的围墙内从未听到过这样的法语朗诵。也没有哪个英国女孩曾用过如此不拘一格、毫无羞耻的诗意措辞。格罗斯维尔夫人很可能会感觉到她周围事物的坚固框架正在融化和破裂。
基蒂停了下来。她靠在椅子上,突然被一种突如其来的感觉所震撼。
“你使我!”她责备地对院长说。
院长又说了一声“太棒了!”并再次鼓掌。然后,意识到格罗斯维尔勋爵张开的嘴和眼睛,他坐了起来,捕捉到妻子的表情,然后又回到散文和现在。
“我亲爱的年轻女士,”他开始说道,“你拥有最非凡的才能——”格罗斯维尔夫人向他走来。她站在他面前,隔着他娇小的身躯,威严地向他的丈夫示意。
“威廉,请订购威尔逊夫人的马车。”
格罗斯维尔勋爵猛地从昏迷中醒来,按照吩咐做了。威尔逊夫人,这位特工胆怯的妻子,根本没有意识到她已经要求了她的马车,顺从地站了起来。然后女主人转向凯蒂夫人。
“你背诵得很好,基蒂,”她冷冷而庄严地强调,“但下次我会要求你只念拉辛和高乃依。在英国,我们必须非常小心法国作家。不过,如果我没记错的话,《阿塔莉》中有一些精彩的段落。”
基蒂什么也没说。一直密切关注这起小事件的奥地利专员退下来仔细检查瓷器。但脾气急躁、侠义的院长却被激怒了。
“她背诵得很棒!女士,维克多·雨果和其他人一样都是经典。啊,好吧,毫无疑问,毫无疑问,也许还有更合适的。”老人摇摇晃晃地落地,基蒂注入他体内的热情就像气球里的气体一样消失了。 “但是,你知道吗,基蒂女士”——他急切地进入了一个新话题,部分是为了掩护那个女孩,部分是为了让格罗斯维尔女士安静——”你总是如此引人注目地提醒我——在你的声音中——某些语调——你的妹妹——你的继妹,不是吗?——爱丽丝女士?当然,你知道,她今天和索尔比一家就在公园的另一边,离你很近?”
院长的妻子绝望地站了起来。一般来说,她的丈夫没有八卦的记忆,在这种事情上像孩子一样天真和危险,这对她来说是一件很自满的事情。但这太过分了。与此同时,阿什也快步走了过来。
“我的姐妹?”基蒂说。 “我的姐妹?”
她低声而不确定地说话,眼睛盯着院长。
他看着她,突然有一种不寻常的感觉,然后继续说道:
“我们在下山的路上在圣潘克拉斯遇见了她。如果我知道我们有幸见到你就好了——你知道吗,我觉得她看起来明显好多了?
当他起身时,他的表情和蔼可亲,期待着他得到姐妹般的同意。与此同时,就连格罗斯维尔夫人也愣住了,她本想插嘴的话却没能说出口。
基蒂也站了起来,环顾四周寻找什么东西,她似乎在威廉·阿什的脸上找到了这个东西,因为她的眼睛紧盯着那里。
“我的妹妹,”她用同样低沉、紧张的声音重复道。 “我的妹妹爱丽丝?我——我不知道。我从来没有见过她。”
阿什事后记不清事件是如何结束的。客人们纷纷离去,凯蒂女士从人群中溜走了。但十分钟后,当他穿着吸烟装下楼时,他无意中听到受伤的迪恩正在与他的妻子摔跤,而她正在楼梯平台上为他点燃蜡烛。
“亲爱的,你用这样的眼神看着我做什么?孩子说的是什么意思?还有什么 地球 有什么事吗?
女士们上床睡觉后,在基蒂夫人朗诵的那天晚上,威廉·阿什和老格罗斯维尔勋爵聊天直到午夜过后。当摆脱了他的女性的存在时,格罗斯维尔勋爵无论如何都没有失去作为谈话者的价值,因为她们要么以他的妻子的身份压迫他,要么以他的女儿的身份使他困惑。 。他拥有有限但仍然最有用的人类经验基础,而英国土地所有者虽然我们的英国传统仍然存在,但如果他愿意的话,几乎无法逃脱。作为卫兵、志愿者、地方法官、中尉、各种重要委员会的成员(为了他的名字和他的土地)、作为军事人员 附甚至,在短暂的时间里,在一个重要的大使馆,他仅仅通过生活就获得了他的知识分子常常羡慕他的东西——对人和事的某种精明,某种本能,这些往往是为他提供更多的服务,胜过为其他人提供更聪明的头脑。但是,就像大多数成就一样,这些成就也带来了自己的自负。格罗斯维尔勋爵自己认为,自己没有受过多少书本教育就表现得非常好,但对其他人却知之甚少。
尽管如此,他很少错过与威廉·阿什交谈的机会,这并不是因为这位年轻人尽管过去懒惰,但通常被认为既能干又多才多艺,而是因为年长的人发现他对男人和女人有一种不可战胜的品味,他们的命运、怪事、灾难——尤其是后者——与他自己的相似。
和玛丽·莱斯特一样,两人都是八卦人士。但比她更加无私。确实,女人作为八卦者太容易追求要么诅咒别人要么神化自己。但在这里,愚蠢的人不亚于聪明的男人,表现出了某种广泛的超然态度,这在女性中并不常见——被人类喜剧本身所逗乐,无论是为了他们自己还是为了道德,都没有从中获利,但只要求戏剧应该继续下去。
这一事件,或者更确切地说是当晚的女主角,给格罗斯维尔勋爵带来了一个话题,而在威廉·阿什的案例中,他认为没有理由回避这个话题。在安静的吸烟室里,当他不再饿着晚餐,也不再担心自己作为主人的责任时,他就转向了妻子的家人,就像他是一个木偶剧的经理一样,打开整个盒子,供艾什娱乐。
一个又一个的人物出现了,一个比另一个污迹更严重,直到最后最有斑点的一个被摇出来并展示出来——格罗斯维尔夫人的兄弟和基蒂的父亲,已故的黑水勋爵。这一次,艾什并没有试图逃避这个故事,这个故事是他第二次遇到的。格罗斯维尔勋爵,如果他愿意的话,有权讲述这件事,现在艾什心里有一种以前完全不存在的奇怪感觉,他在某种程度上有权听到这件事。
简而言之,它的轮廓大致如下:亨利,第五代黑水伯爵,开始了爱尔兰贵族的生活,比他的阶级中的大多数人更有钱;最初的优势很快就被疯狂和肆无忌惮的铺张浪费所抵消。然而,他是一位优雅、英俊、贪婪的绅士,生来就是为了掠夺同类,当他寻找女继承人时,很快就找到了。他的第一任妻子是一位非常富有的女人,为他生了一个女儿。在女儿三岁之前,黑水勋爵就对她的母亲产生了强烈的仇恨,主要是因为她未能为他生下一个儿子。他甚至无法通过随意花她的钱来安抚自己,就首都而言,她的钱受到贝尔法斯特制造商和长老会这两位受托人的严厉照顾,黑水类型的人对他们一点也不友好。 。
这些限制很快耗尽了黑水勋爵的耐心。他留给妻子一小笔零用钱,让她的女儿在他的一所爱尔兰房子里抚养长大,而他则慷慨地把她剩下的大笔收入、他自己的收入以及大量收入花在伦敦和欧洲大陆上。
然而,不久之后,黑水夫人就以死来履行他的义务。她的女儿当时十二岁,曾与她母亲的一位受托人住在一起。但当她十七岁时,她的父亲突然命令她去巴黎,以便她结识他的第二任妻子。
新的黑水夫人是一位极其美丽的爱尔兰女人,和第一位夫人一样,但在其他方面与她没有什么不同。玛格丽特·菲茨杰拉德是一对国际化夫妇的女儿,为了谋生,她经过多次轮班,最终定居在巴黎,父亲在那里担任多家英文报纸的通讯员。她的美丽、她的任性、她的“风流韵事”在巴黎都是众所周知的。至于在妻子去世之前她和布莱克沃特勋爵之间的关系可能是什么,格罗斯维尔勋爵坦率地采取了不仁慈的观点。但当那件事发生时,黑水开始变老,菲茨杰拉德小姐对他来说变得很重要。她发挥了自己所有的优势,最终他娶了她。新任黑水夫人给他生了一个孩子,一个女儿。孩子出生大约两年后,他派人把他的大女儿爱丽丝夫人接到他们在旺多姆广场的豪华公寓里,这是他不顾英国和爱尔兰债权人为新婚妻子布置的。
爱丽丝夫人来了——一个美丽的女孩,很明显,她的父亲和继母都感到神经质的恐惧。但黑水夫人热情地接待了她,在公共场合爱抚她,把她打扮得很完美,并尽一切可能利用这个女孩在家里的存在来提高她自己的社会地位。不到一年,贝尔法斯特的董事们在远处不安地注视着,收到了黑水勋爵的一封信,宣布爱丽丝夫人与一位前掷弹兵近卫队成员温斯利代尔上校私奔结婚。黑水勋爵声称自己非常恼火和不满。然而,这对热恋中的年轻人却以一种出乎意料的技巧处理了这件事。他们结婚了,没有任何解决方案,温斯利代尔上校没有什么可以解决的,而爱丽丝夫人像个小傻瓜一样,只想把她所拥有的一切都倒在她心爱的人的腿上。父亲完全依靠受托人的怜悯,提醒他们,在三年多一点的时间里,爱丽丝女士将成为自己财产的无拘无束的女主人,同时恳求他们为这对鲁莽但幸福的夫妇提供适当的照顾。毕竟,哈利·温斯利代尔是一个令人震惊的好人,所有的年轻女子都爱上了他。这件事虽然顽皮,但却很自然。上校会成为一个优秀的丈夫。
一位长老会受托人离开了贝尔法斯特的生意,来到了巴黎的令人厌恶的地方冒险。他被愚弄了很多,也被愚弄了很多。他发现一位腼腆的年轻妻子正在热恋中。一个英俊的丈夫;和蔼可亲的继母他在巴黎不认识任何人可以启发他,而且也不够聪明,无法发明为自己获取信息的方法。他被诱使代表自己和共同受托人承诺暂时获得足够的收入;至于其他人,则只能满足于温斯利代尔上校含糊其辞的保证,即一旦他的妻子搬入她的财产,就应进行适当的解决。
四年过去了。年轻人与黑水家族住在一起,他们的收入维持着这个机构的运转。爱丽丝夫人有了一个孩子,一开始并不完全不高兴。她自己只不过是一个胆怯的孩子。毫无疑问,她一开始就恋爱了。然后是她的多数。她不顾所有受托人的反对,将全部财产交给了丈夫,没有任何权力可以阻止她这样做。
黑水家族突然变得光彩夺目。黑水夫人的马车和黑水夫人的珠宝从来没有这么精美过。在经常光顾这所房子的人群中,继女纤细的身材、蜡黄的脸和茫然的眼神很少引起人们的注意。据说爱丽丝·温斯利代尔夫人娇弱而内向。她没有交朋友,也不向任何人解释自己。据说她正忙着照顾她的小男孩。
然后一年十二月,她从旺多姆广场的公寓里失踪了。据说,她和男孩发现巴黎冬天的气候太冷,曾去过意大利一段时间。温斯利代尔上校继续和黑水一家住在一起,他们的公寓同样豪华,他们的晚餐同样被人们谈论,他们的奢侈也同样吵闹。但爱丽丝女士并没有带着弹簧回来。一些丑陋的谣言开始蔓延。然而,布莱克沃特勋爵在他女儿离开后一年内去世,这一切都受到了阻碍。他留下的巨额债务;通过出售著名公寓中的物品,所有这些事情本身就足够丑陋或令人反感,足以让名人的舌头忙个不停。布莱克沃特夫人离开了巴黎,当她再次出现时,她是在罗马,化身为埃斯特雷伯爵夫人,她是另一位老人的妻子,老人的健康状况迫使他们在南方过冬,在游艇上度过夏天。她 沙龙 皮奥·诺诺(Pio Nono)领导下的罗马会议成为英国人和美国人的一次盛会,他被埃斯特雷先生与黑人贵族之间的联系、他的财富以及他对罗马几家天主教银行的兴趣所吸引的历史名称和头衔所吸引那不勒斯让他的妻子指挥。
温斯利代尔上校没有出现。埃斯特雷夫人表示,她的继女脾气不好,现在大部分时间都在爱尔兰度过。她自己的女儿,她的“亲爱的凯蒂”,正在巴黎接受布兰奇兄弟学校的教育,她渴望有一天“小可爱”能加入她的行列,准备在这个伟大的世界里展开翅膀。但妈妈们千万不能不耐烦,凯蒂必须具备适合她地位的一切优势;最焦虑的母亲还能把她托付给那些迷人的、高贵的、多才多艺的布兰奇修女们呢?
然后一月的一天,M. d'Estrées 驱车前往 San Paolo fuori le Mura,迎面而来的是白雪皑皑的萨宾人。三天后他就去世了,他衣食无忧的遗孀从他贫困而痛苦的亲属手中夺走了他的大部分财产。
在他去世后六个月内,她在圣詹姆斯广场买了一套房子,她的伦敦职业生涯开始了。
“我们就是在这里进来的,”格罗斯维尔勋爵说,当他用更多的题外话和更直白的言辞谈到他的前嫂子时,他把自己的故事讲到了这里。 “黑水——那个老痞子——临死的时候有过一段悔恨的时刻。他写信给我的妻子,请她照顾他的女儿们,“看在上帝的份上,莉娜,看看你能不能帮助爱丽丝——温斯利代尔是个完美的畜生。”这是我们对情况的第一印象,因为阿德琳娜早已与他撇清了关系。我们知道 她 讨厌我们。好吧,我们尝试过;我们当然尝试过。但只要她丈夫还活着,爱丽丝就对我们任何人都无话可说。我想她认为为了她儿子的缘故,她最好尽量把坏事留给自己——”
“温斯利代尔——温斯利代尔?”艾什说,他一直在主人身边默默地抽烟。 “你是指那个在克里米亚表现出色的人吗?他去年去世了——在那不勒斯,不是吗?”
格罗斯维尔勋爵同意了。
看来,在他生命的最后一年,爱丽丝女士忠实地照顾了她的丈夫,度过了疾病和贫困。因为她的财产几乎所剩无几,而温斯利代尔向德斯特雷夫人提出的要钱申请却被断然拒绝,而他的妻子对此并不知情。上校去世了,在他死后三个月内,爱丽丝夫人也失去了她的儿子,也是唯一的孩子,死于那不勒斯的血液中毒,他被从学校召唤到那里,以便他的父亲最后一次见到他。
然后,十七年后,爱丽丝女士回到了她的亲人身边,她的亲人最后一次见到她还是一个年轻的女孩——温柔、不成熟、容易被引导,而且相当愚蠢。她回来时是一个三十四岁、白发苍苍的女人,她失去了青春、财富、孩子和丈夫。此外,它的外观表明损失更深、更惨重。起初,她把自己包裹在一种对某些人来说似乎是沉闷的、对另一些人来说似乎是悲惨的沉默之中。但突然,她的体内燃起了一团火焰。她开始意识到埃斯特雷夫人在伦敦的地位。有一天,在学院的私人视野中,她的前继母微笑着向她伸出了手。爱丽丝女士的脸色变得非常苍白。手放下了,爱丽丝·温斯利代尔快步走开。但那天晚上,在格罗斯维尔的房子里,她说出了自己的想法。
“她告诉了莉娜和我整个故事。你可能会认为这个女人被附身了。我的妻子——她不是那种爱哭的人,我也不是。但她哭了,我相信——好吧,我可以告诉你,这足以搬动一块石头。说完,她就走开了,锁上门,不让任何人对她说一句话。她已经告诉了一两个其他亲戚和朋友,而且——”
“亲戚朋友都告诉别人了吗?”
“好吧,我可以自己回答,”格罗斯维尔停顿了一下后说道。 “这件事发生在三个月前。我从来没有告诉过,也永远不会告诉我们她告诉我们的所有细节。但我们已经让足够多的人知道了——”
“够了吗?——足以让埃斯特雷夫人该死吗?”
“哦,好吧,就女性而言,她基本上已经是这样了。还有其他的故事。我希望你认识他们。”
“不,我不认识他们,”阿什说。
格罗斯维尔勋爵脸上露出惊讶之色。 “好吧,这件事就这样结束了,”他说。
“可怜的孩子!”艾什慢慢地说,放下香烟,若有所思地看着地毯。
“爱丽丝?”格罗斯维尔勋爵说。
“没有。”
“哦!你是说基蒂吗?是的,我暂时忘记了她。是的,可怜的孩子。”
一阵沉默,然后格罗斯维尔勋爵问道:
“你觉得她怎么样?”
“我?”艾什笑着说。 “我不知道。她显然非常漂亮——”
“还有一把!”格罗斯维尔勋爵说。
“哦,显然是一把,”艾什心不在焉地说。然后他们俩又想起了基蒂进来的情景,然后他们都笑了。
“那个年轻女人已经没有多少害羞了——嗯?”老人说道。 “她给我的女儿们讲述了她在法国所做的事情——我妻子不得不阻止。她似乎已经有过各种各样的恋爱经历了。当然,她这里肯定有任何电话号码。一些不道德的人会抓住她,因为合适的人自然不会娶她。我不知道我们能做什么。阿德琳娜主动提出要带她一起去。但那个女人根本不听。她给莉娜写了一封相当不错的信——关于她的尊严——诸如此类的事情。我们给了她一个机会,天啊!她拿走了它。”
“与此同时,凯蒂女士和她的继姐妹没有任何来往?”
“你听到她说的话了。非凡的女孩!让东西像这样丰满地出来。就像血液一样。他们想到什么就说什么。如果我们知道爱丽丝这个周末要和索尔比一家在一起,我妻子肯定会推迟基蒂的。如果他们见面的话——比如在这里——会非常尴尬。哈喽!是不是已经很晚了?”
因为图书馆尽头的惠斯特牌手已经把椅子往后推,男人们正从台球室漫步回来。
“恐怕基蒂女士知道她母亲的立场有问题,”他们站起来时艾什说道。
“我敢说。你看,我是在巴黎长大的。”白发英国人耸耸肩说道。 “当然,她不该知道的事情她都知道。”
“拜托,我是在修道院长大的,”艾什微笑着说道。 “我以为法国人 女孩 是世上最天真的、最无知的东西。”
格罗斯维尔勋爵对这句话嗤之以鼻。
“你问我妻子她对法国修道院的看法。她知道——她有很多天主教徒关系。她会给你讲故事。”
然而,艾什认为他可以相信自己,她不会做任何这样的事。
吸烟室很晚才散去,但新任副部长却更晚才起床,在卧室里看书、抽烟。他的桌子上放着一盒外交部文件。他怀着强烈的愉悦感经历了这些过程,享受着他的新工作和他自己的能力,尽管他对玛丽·莱斯特说了这样的话,但他对此一点也不怀疑。然后,当他的评论完成,文件按照现在送交国务卿的顺序更换时,他感到春夜令人压抑地温和,走到窗前,他把窗户打开。
他眺望着一座荷兰花园,春天的花朵盛开。中间有一个小喷泉,整夜都在潺潺流水。一座橘园或温室,采用迷人的十八世纪设计,围着花园呈半圆形,平坦的壁柱和黄色石雕在月光下呈现出象牙般的色彩和精致。越过与花园接壤的露台,地面延伸到一条河流,河流的河段时而令人眼花缭乱,时而阴郁,时而隐藏在树林下,时而银光闪闪地通向公园的缓坡,给这里带来了野性和浪漫。原本平静的场景。河对岸的一块高地上有一座带有尖顶的乡村教堂。规整的花园、乔治亚风格的温室、公园、河流、教堂——它们都散发着英格兰和传统的英国生活的气息。它们所暗示的一切,关于习俗和继承,关于力量和狭隘,关于狭隘的偏见和顽固的力量,对艾什来说都是非常熟悉的,而且总体上来说是非常融洽的。他很高兴成为一名英国人和英国政府的成员。他身上持续存在的讽刺情绪丝毫没有妨碍他正常享受正常的物品。他常常把自己视为影子中的影子,演员中的演员。但这部戏还是不错的。在他看来,一个人应该知道自己是个傻瓜,正如墨尔本勋爵的看法一样,这是首要的必要条件。但无论是傻瓜还是不傻,让他找到适合他的职业并追求它们。就这些而言,生活还是很值得过的,姜也还很辣。
这是他一贯的哲学。在宗教方面,他是一个怀疑论者,对宗教非常感兴趣。如果他成为首相,正如特兰莫尔夫人所预言的那样,他将比他可能被要求任命的主教了解更多的神学知识。同时在政治上,他是一位贵族,对自由非常感兴趣。对他来说,他自己阶级的荒谬也许比大众的荒谬更明显。但如果他活得早几代人,他就会满怀天主教解放的热情,并对改革法案感到困惑。如果命运早年把他抛在了一边,他就不会像福克兰那样,在缔造和平的过程中死去;他会战斗;但到目前为止,他的任何一个朋友都无法确定是哪一边。享有懒惰者的名声,实际上却是一个勤奋、不知疲倦的学生;无论如何,这让他很高兴。在他看来,表白自己的热情或感情通常是一种不礼貌的行为。世界上只有两三个人知道他内心的真实品质。然而,没有人在某种程度上学会了逃避,就假装逃避。艾什身上确实有一些真正的懒惰和奢侈行为,他完全而轻蔑地意识到了这些,但他既不希望也不觉得自己能够打破它们的束缚。
然而此时此刻,他却明显感觉到人格的异常激动和亢奋。当他站着眺望英国的夜色时,他的血液自由而快速地流动。他从来没有感受到自己对生活的自然渴望如此强烈,同时似乎又对即将到来的变化做出了预兆,并对它产生了渴望。这仅仅是他的命运的进步——还是更微妙、更甜蜜的事情?仿佛一股柔软和渴望的浪潮从某个未知的源头涌出,寻找一个对象和一个出口。
当他站在那里做梦时,他突然意识到头顶房间里有声音。或者更确切地说,在房子的其他部分现在绝对静止的情况下,他意识到,自从他进入房间以来,他上方的运动和声音一直在持续,而当其他一切都消失时,这些运动和声音仍然持续存在。
两个人正在说话;或者更确切地说,一个声音永远在继续,时不时被另一个声音打断。他开始怀疑这声音是谁的。当他这样做时,他上面的窗户被打开了。他不由自主地向后退了一步,但在此之前他听到了几句法语,显然是基蒂女士说的。
“夏尔!多么美好的夜晚啊!——还有花儿的香味!还有星星——我喜欢星星!小姐——过来!小姐!回答我——我不会讲故事——现在你——确实地-相信上帝?”
艾什全身发出一阵笑声,那是一种快乐的笑声,他赶紧关掉了灯。
“折磨者!”他对自己说:“你必须在深夜这个时候让一个女人接受她的神学训练吗?你就不能去睡觉吗,你这个小旋风?——该怎么办?如果我关上窗户,噪音就会吓到她。但我无法忍受在这里偷听。”
他轻轻地从窗边退出,开始脱衣服。但凯蒂女士探出了身子,她的声音令人惊奇。如此听来,也脱离了形体和面容,成为了一个独立的生物。艾什站在那里,手里拿着正在上发条的手表。到目前为止,他已经知道这个声音尖锐而轻快,肯定是喋喋不休和调情的标志。今晚,当基蒂利用它向法国家庭女教师阐述她自己独特的神学时——其中的一些片段时不时地飘到阿什的耳中——没有什么比这更音乐、更忧郁、更令人爱抚了。充满性的声音,以及性的魅力。
这些个小时她都在跟小姐说些什么呢?一位在这次访问之前她从未见过的女士。他想起了客厅里她的脸,就像她谈到她姐姐时那样——想起了她的眼睛,充满了明亮的、狂热的痛苦,而这双眼睛一直挂在他的眼睛上。
她真的向这个陌生人吐露了她所有的家庭秘密吗?艾什感到一阵厌恶,几乎是厌恶。但他记得,正是由于她的不落俗套,她没有任何适当的沉默寡言,或者像许多人所说的那样,没有任何微妙的感情,她给他留下了第一印象。哎,那是一个印象——确实是一个印象!他深深地意识到了这个事实,他站在黑暗中徘徊,努力不去听那让他激动的声音。
终于!——她要去睡觉了吗?
“啊!——可我是头猪,就这么养着你!”睡觉吧!” (亲吻的声音。) “我?不好了!人为什么要上床睡觉?人的生命是在夜晚开始的。”
她开始哼起一首法国小调,然后停了下来。
“你记得?你保证?你有信吗?”
显然是小姐的断言,并提到了八点钟,随后基蒂表示悔恨。
“八点钟!我让你保持这样。我是一头残暴的野兽! Allez——allez vite!快速的脚步声穿过楼上的地板,然后关上了门。
然而基蒂又回到了窗边,艾什仍然能听到她叹息和自言自语。
她到底图谋着什么?一封信?是小姐转达的吗?给谁?
上面所有的声音都停止了很久之后,艾什仍然醒着,想着他从格罗斯维尔勋爵那里听到的故事。当然,如果他知道的话,他绝不会熟门熟路地去埃斯特雷夫人家。对于他这种类型的人来说,松懈是一回事;撒谎、卑鄙和残忍是另一回事。对于这个处境奇怪而险恶的可怜孩子,我们能做些什么呢?具有讽刺意味的是,他突然意识到传教士的热情。因为,如果被拯救的生物没有这样一双眼睛、这样细长的脖子、这样令人难以忘怀、捉弄人的性格,那又怎样呢?
这个问题很快就让他陷入了梦乡。但当他醒来时,他并没有忘记这件事。
第二天早上,他刚穿好衣服,就从自己房间的前窗偶然看到了一条小路上有一位女士的身影,他的房间俯瞰着公园的主要区域。她似乎是从一条长长的大道的尽头回来的,而且显然是急着要到那所房子。然而,当她走近时,她转向了一条灌木丛,很快就消失在人们的视野中。但艾什认出了D小姐。他又想起了那封信的事。他猜她已经送过来了。但是哪里?
早餐时,凯蒂女士没有出现。艾什询问了年轻的格罗斯维尔小姐,格罗斯维尔小姐尖刻地回答说,她认为基蒂感冒了,然后赶紧穿好衣服去上主日学校。周日在格罗斯维尔公园,年轻女士们根本不习惯在床上吃早餐,格罗斯维尔夫人的眉头阴沉起来。阿什觉得告诉她他不去教堂是一种积极的努力,当她召集羊群并将他们带走时,那些留下来的人确实知道自己是异教徒和税吏。
艾什带着一些官方文件和一根烟斗走出去,沐浴在春天的阳光下。编辑克肖先生很乐意找他进行政治演讲。但艾什不会被抓住。至于英国在波斯湾的利益,他们和克肖先生可能暂时都悬而未决。基蒂女士会在十一点三十分在旧花园里见到他吗?这是唯一重要的事情。
然而,距离所说的时间还有一个多小时。艾什在长满报春花和海葵的树林里漫步了一会儿,然后漫步回到古老而著名的花园。
突然,当他来到一个被浓密的紫杉树篱包围的露台上,并沿着台阶下降到一个较低的露台时,他听到了一种奇怪的音调和基调的声音——声音不大,但可以说,强度远远超过了音符。普通谈话的。艾什一动不动地站着;因为他认出了凯蒂女士的声音。但在他决定要做什么之前,一位女士开始登上连接上层和下层露台的台阶。她径直朝他走来,艾什惊讶地看着她。她不是格罗斯维尔家庭聚会的成员,艾什以前也从未见过她。然而,在她苍白、不高兴的脸上,却有一种让人想起另一个人的感觉。她的步态和充满激情的运动能量也体现了这一点。她从他身边掠过,他看到她又高又瘦,穿着深丧的衣服。她的目光注视着内心的某种愿景;他觉得她几乎没看见他。她的离去就像一种悲伤的化身——威胁而可悲。
类似哭声的声音追着她走上台阶。但她没有转身。她快步前行,很快就消失在树林里。
艾希犹豫了一下,然后快步下了台阶。
基蒂·布里斯托尔俯卧在紫杉树篱下的一张石凳上。他听到她的抽泣声,这声音非常奇怪地穿过他的心。
“凯蒂小姐!”他站在她身边,弯下腰说道。
她抬起头,没有表现出任何惊讶。她的脸上满是泪水,但她的手可怜兮兮地寻找着他,把他拉向自己。
“我见过我姐姐,”她说,“她恨我。我做了什么?我想我会绝望而死!”
基蒂·布里斯托尔用几句哭泣的话语来迎接他在她身边,这对威廉·阿什的感觉既尖锐又深刻,因为它们似乎已经暗示了他们之间的一种特殊关系,一种特殊的联系。确实,这一切难道不是从他在圣詹姆斯广场第一次见到她时开始的吗?她孤苦伶仃地坐在她的白色裙子里?——当她“愿意”他来找她,而他也来了的时候?当然——虽然对此他有疑虑——她不可能如此放任地与她的其他英国新朋友交谈吗?例如达雷尔,他预计那天晚上会出现在格罗斯维尔公园。不!从一开始她就转向了他,威廉·阿什。她也意识到了他自己所感受到的同样的相互理解、同样的差异中的同情。
无论如何,他在她身边坐下时,有一种命运最奇怪、最出乎意料地降临到他身上的感觉。他自己的脉搏跳得很快。但她却没有任何迹象。事实上,他试图用他很容易掌握的那种令人愉快的力量和活力来让她平静下来。 “你为什么要绝望?”他朝她弯下身子说道。 “告诉我。让我尝试帮助你。你姐姐对你不好吗?”
凯蒂立刻没有回答。她的大眼睛里充满了泪水,顺着脸颊滑落,却没有毁掉她的容貌。她心不在焉地全神贯注地望着黑暗的树林深处,仿佛在那里寻找着某种她未能察觉的真相——过去或现在的真相。
“我不知道,”她最后摇着头说道,“我不知道这是否不友善。也许这就是我们应得的,妈妈和我。”
“你!”艾什叫道。
“是的,”她热情地说。 “谁来分开我和妈妈?如果她做了卑鄙、令人震惊的事情,她所针对的人也会恨我。他们 将 恨我!这是正确的。”
她猛烈地转向他。她脸色很白,坐在他面前,骄傲地直立着,她的小手捻着一块很快就会破烂的花边手帕。不知怎的,艾什在手帕的残骸面前畏缩了。有什么必要去毁掉这个美丽又脆弱的东西呢?
“我很确定没有人会因为你没有做过的事而恨你,”他坚定地说。 “这将是极其不公平的。但是,你看,我不明白——而且我不喜欢——我不想——问问题。”
“Do 问问题!”她喊道,几乎是责备地看着他。 “这正是我希望你做的——只是,”她沮丧地低下头补充道,“我不知道该回答什么。我被当成小孩子一样被人玩弄!这件事很可怕——没有人相信我——每个人都把我蒙在鼓里。没有人想过我是否痛苦。”
她举起双手捂住眼睛,用破烂的蕾丝手帕使劲擦着眼泪。然而,她的这些言行举止却显得优雅动人,因为她很自然。她没有摆姿势,也没有意识,她没有隐藏任何东西。然而阿什确信她可以出色地扮演这个角色。只是这不是为了谎言,而是为了某种浪漫的冲动或想象。
“你为什么要这么折磨自己?”他亲切地问她。她的手垂了下来,放在她旁边的长凳上。令他自己惊讶的是,他发现自己紧紧抓住了它。 “忘掉旧日的悲伤不是更好吗?你无法改变多年前发生的事情——你无法挽回它。你必须过你自己的生活——愉快地!我只是希望你能着手去做。”
他对她微笑,当他毫无讽刺地展现自然的温柔时,很少有面孔比他更有吸引力。她的目光被他的目光所吸引,当他们相遇时,他看到她清澈的皮肤上泛起红晕,并蔓延到她淡金色的头发上。他内心深处的男人对这种红晕感到非常高兴——确实是着迷。但她只给了他很少的时间来观察。她不耐烦地走开。
“当然,你一个字也听不懂,”她说,“否则你就不能那样说话。但我会告诉你。”她的眼神一半悲惨,一半大胆,又回到了他身上。 “我姐姐——来到这里——因为我派人去叫她。我让小姐带着一封信走了。当然,我知道其中有一个谜——我知道格罗斯维尔一家不想让我们见面——我知道她和妈妈互相憎恨。但妈妈不会告诉我任何事——而且我有一个 右 要知道。”
“不,你没有权利知道,”艾什严肃地说。
她疯狂地看着他。
“我有——我有!”她热情地重复道。 “好吧,我告诉我姐姐在这里见我——我已经忘记了,你看,关于你的一切!我的脑子里充满了爱丽丝。当她到来时,我感觉这就像一场梦——一场可怕的、悲剧性的梦。你知道——她是 so 像我一样——我想这意味着我们都像爸爸。只有她的脸——不英俊,哦不——但是很严肃——而且——是的,高贵!我为她感到骄傲。我真想跪下来亲吻她的裙子。但她不肯拉我的手——她几乎不跟我说话。她说她来了,因为现在我在英国,我们应该见面一次,并了解我们之间的关系是最好的。 不能 相遇——我们永远永远不可能成为朋友。她说她恨我母亲——多年来她一直保持沉默,但现在她想惩罚妈妈——把她赶出伦敦。然后”——女孩的嘴唇在回忆中颤抖——”她靠近我,看着我的眼睛,她说,‘是的,我们很像彼此——我们就像我们的父亲——而且如果我们从未出生过,对我们俩都会更好——”
“啊,残忍!”艾什不由自主地喊道,他的手再次找到基蒂的小手指,将它们按在自己的手指上。
凯蒂用一种奇怪而崇高的眼神看着他。
“不。我认为这是真的。我常常认为我生来就不是为了快乐的。我永远不可能快乐——它不在我之内。”
“那你就该说些蠢话了!”艾什轻声说道,双臂交叉,他试图表现出一种务实的哥哥气质,他觉得这很适合现在的情况——如果有什么适合的话。事实上,他觉得这显得异常混乱和丑陋。他们的谈话漂浮在悲剧的深处,他猜到了,但她完全不知道。然而她的青春却不知为何而畏缩——“就像动物在暮色中畏惧阴影一样”。在他看来,她似乎笼罩在一片模糊的耻辱之中,怨恨和憎恨它,但却无法摆脱对它的思考和谈论。但她绝对不能谈论这件事。
她好一会儿没有回答他的最后一句话。她坐在那里,看着前方,似乎被内心涌动的图像和感觉所淹没。直到她猛然转身,用平常的声音微笑着说道:
“你知道为什么我永远不会幸福吗?因为我的脾气实在是太差了。”
“你?”艾什微笑着说道。
她好奇地看了他一眼。
“你不相信吗?如果你在修道院里,你就会相信这一点。我有时会生气——非常生气;我想是因为骄傲和虚荣。苏尔夫妇说是这样的。”
“他们必须以某种方式解释它,”阿什说。 “但我很确定,如果我住在修道院里,我的脾气一定会很暴躁。”
“你!”她半带着轻蔑地说。 “你在任何地方都不能发脾气。这是我不喜欢你的一件事——你太冷静——太——太满足了。很好!你对我说了一句尖锐的话,所以我不明白为什么我不应该对你说一句。你不应该看起来那么享受你的生活。它是 资产阶级!真的是。”她对他皱起了眉头,带着一点奢侈的神情,这让他觉得好笑。
凭着某种先见之明,那天早上,她穿上了一件薄料制成的黑色连衣裙,制作极其简单。没有荷叶边,没有扇形。一件充满少女气息的小裙子,让少女般的身材看起来比他前一天晚上穿着华丽的巴黎礼服时更加脆弱和轻盈。她的大黑帽子突显了她白皙的眉毛和她最美丽的眼睛的光彩。然后剩下的一切都变得虚无缥缈,虚无飘渺,可以用一只手捏碎。然而,它却散发出一种难以驯服、不屈不挠的气息——一个比他所认识的任何人都更加自我、更加强烈、更加顽强地活着的自我。
她的攻击让他的脸颊不由自主地流血,这让他很恼火。但他邀请她说出为什么快乐是一种恶习。她回答说,没有人应该像他一样看起来很成功。
“你蔑视成功吗?”
“鄙视它!”她长长地吸了口气,双手抱过头顶,然后又缓缓放下那条瘦弱的手臂。 “鄙视它!胡说些什么!但每个没有得到它的人都会讨厌那些拥有它的人。”
“别恨我!”艾什很快说道。
“是的,”她固执地说,“我必须这么做。你知道我为什么在学校里如此野猫吗?因为其他一些女孩比我更重要——更重要——更富有——也更美丽——人们对她们更加关注。这似乎 燃烧 我的心。”她双手按在胸前,做出充满激情的动作。 “你知道法语单词 鹭?嗯,这就是我所关心的——这就是我所关心的 崇拜!成为第一、最好、最杰出的。当我举起手指的时候,就会被羡慕——被指指点点——服从——然后会迎来一些伟大、光荣、悲惨的结局!”
阿什不耐烦地动了动。
“凯蒂女士,我不喜欢听你这样说话。它很狂野,而且——请原谅——”
“品味不好?”她气喘吁吁地扶住了他。 “这就是你的意思,不是吗?以前我夸你帅的时候你也这么对我说过。”
“噗!”他懊恼地说。她看着他向后仰去,摸索着他的烟盒。她挥手示意他离开。她微笑着等待着,直到他吸了几口能让她平静下来的气息。然后她轻轻地走向他。
“别生我的气!”她用甜美、低沉的声音说道。 “你难道不明白这是多么困难吗——拥有这样的本性——然后从修道院来到这里——一个人靠梦想生活的地方——并找到自己——”
她把头转开。艾什放下了新点燃的香烟。
“找到你自己?”他重复道。
“大家都瞧不起我!”她低垂着眉头说道。
艾希惊呼道。
“你知道这是真的。我妈妈没有收到。你能否认吗?”
“她有很多朋友,”阿什说。
“她是 没收到。当我谈到她时,没有人回答我。格罗斯维尔夫人在这里问我——me——出于慈善。嫁给我会被认为是一种耻辱——”
“看这里,凯蒂女士!——”
“而我”——她绞着小手,仿佛掐住了敌人的脖子——“我永远不会 看 对一个不认为赢得我一生荣耀的人。所以你看,我永远不会结婚。但可怕的是——”
她让他看到一张苍白、暴风雨般的脸。
“我对妈妈没有忠诚——我——我想我什至不爱她。”
艾什严肃地审视着她。
“你不是这个意思,”他说。
“我想我愿意,”她坚持道。 “我有一个可怕的童年。我不会讲故事;但是,你看,我不 知道 妈妈。我更了解索尔夫妇。然后为了某个你不认识的人——不得不——不得不承受——这可怕的事情——”
她把脸埋在双手里。阿什疑惑地看着她。
“你不能承受任何可怕的事情,”他充满活力地说。 “有很多人会处理这个问题。你介意告诉我——最近有什么特别困难吗?”
“哦,是的,”她抬起头,平静地说,“太糟糕了!妈妈的债务是——嗯——荒谬的。仅此一点,我认为她无法留在伦敦——除了——爱丽丝。”
这个名字让她回想起刚刚经历的一切,脸色颤抖起来。 “她会做什么?”她低声说道。 “她将如何惩罚我们?——为什么?——为什么?”
她的恐惧,她的无知,她强烈的、受伤的虚荣心,她挣扎的骄傲,她的无助,对她身边的男人有着惊人的吸引力。他开始非常温柔而明智地与她交谈,恳求她不要去管过去,只考虑可以做些什么来帮助现在。首先,她不会让他母亲对她有用吗?
他可以为特兰莫尔夫人负责。为什么凯蒂夫人不应该和她一起去苏格兰过夏天呢?毫无疑问,埃斯特雷夫人会出国。
“那我必须和她一起去,”基蒂说。
犹豫了一下。
“当然,如果她愿意的话。”
“但我不知道她会希望如此。她不太喜欢我。”基蒂疑惑地说。 “是的,我想和特兰莫尔夫人住在一起。不过你表弟会去吗?”
“莱斯特小姐?”
基蒂点点头。
“我怎么知道?当然,她经常在那里。”
“真奇怪,”基蒂想了想后说道,“我们多么不喜欢对方。这太奇怪了。你知道大多数人都像我一样!”
她抬头看着他,没有一丝卖弄的意思,反而有些胆怯,生怕遭到拒绝。 “这一直是我的困难,”她继续说道,“直到现在。每个人都宠坏我。我总是按自己的方式行事。在修道院里,我受到了纵容和奉承,然后他们就奇怪我做了各种各样的蠢事。我需要一个向导——这是肯定的——有人告诉我该怎么做。”
“我愿意担任这个职位,”阿什说,“但我完全确信你永远不会在任何事情上听从任何人的建议。”
“是的,我愿意,”她若有所思地说。 “我会-”
艾希脸色一变。
“啊,如果你愿意——”
她跳了起来。 “你看到了吗?”——她指着远处小路上的一些人影——“他们正从教堂回来。你明白?-没有人 一定知道我姐姐的事。当然,莉娜姨妈会想到这一点。但我希望当我离开的时候。如果她现在知道了,我今天就该回伦敦了。”
阿什向她明确表示,他会谨慎行事。他们离开了长凳,但是,当他们开始登上台阶时,基蒂又转了回来。
“我希望我没有看到她,”她用悲惨的语气说道,泪水再次涌入眼眶。
艾什非常友善地看着她,但没有说话。剧烈的疼痛瞬间过去,她在他身边慵懒地走着。但他坚强英俊的存在感染了她,她的笑容很快又回来了。确实,当他们接近房子时,她似乎又精神抖擞了。
她问他,他知道吗,那天下午还会来三位客人——先生。达雷尔,路易斯·哈曼先生, 和-先生。杰弗里·克里夫?她强调了姓氏,这让艾什漫不经心地说道:
“你这么想见他?”
“当然。全世界不都是这样吗?”
阿什回答说,他只能为自己负责,就他而言,即使没有克利夫的陪伴,他也能一直做得很好。
于是基蒂愤怒地抗议说,其他男人嫉妒这样一个名人,因为女人喜欢他——因为——
“因为这个男人是个花花公子,女人都宠着他?”
“花花公子!”
基蒂很激动。
“请问,他不是一位伟大的旅行家吗?——一个非常 伟大的旅行者?”她愤怒地问道。
“当然,根据他自己的说法。”
“那么一位最杰出的作家呢?”
“澳门人,”阿什反常地说,“而且不太擅长这个。”
基蒂一开始愣住了,然后开始大声抗议如此可怕的不公平现象。难道所有聪明人不都读过并钦佩过吗?她重复道,否认这位先生的说法只是出于嫉妒。
艾什让她说话、引述并让自己兴奋起来,时不时地用一点狡猾的方式刺激她,让她继续奔跑,从而忘记笼罩在她身上的悲惨时刻。与此同时,他所关心的只是看着她的脸和眼睛闪闪发光,风吹过她的头发,以及她移动时的跳跃优雅。可怜的孩子!——一切又回到了——可怜的孩子!——她该怎么办?
午餐时——周日的午餐——仍然是在格罗斯维尔公园,就像格罗斯维尔勋爵母亲维多利亚时代早期那样,包括一块巨大的贵族牛腰肉,各种桌子上的所有其他东西都显得像是附属物和附属物,阿什让自己内心的反思格罗斯维尔公园的周日正在堕落。格罗斯维尔勋爵和夫人在他们那个时代都是好主人。妻子的直率和丈夫的八卦一样合乎许多人的口味。但这一次,两人都沉默了,心不在焉。格罗斯维尔夫人在安排客人方面并没有表现出什么才干。错误的人坐在一起,整个聚会拖拖拉拉——没有一个领导者。
当然,基蒂·布里斯托尔也没有采取任何行动来让它变得活跃起来。她静静地坐着,她的黑色连衣裙让她发生了很大的变化,在艾什看来,让他想起了那个苍白的修道院女孩,就像他选择想象的那样。是不是这样她就完成了虔诚的练习?——顺便说一句,她当然是天主教徒?——说完功课,然后去找她的忏悔神父?和她一起骑马去猎鹿的法国表弟见过她这个样子吗?不;阿什确信“亨利”从未见过她,除了作为时装模特,或者 亚马逊。他不可能对这个黑衣鬼魂——这个高贵的、可怜的小鬼魂——不以为然。
午餐后,艾什逐渐清楚格罗斯维尔夫人的专注是有原因的。不久,她在图书馆里遇见了他独自一人,他已经带着一些官方文件退休了,她小心翼翼地关上门,站在他面前。
“我看你对Kitty很感兴趣,我觉得我必须告诉你,并询问你的意见。威廉,你知道那个孩子最近在做什么吗?”
他从写字的地方抬起头来。
“啊!——你发现了什么?”
“格罗斯维尔昨晚告诉你这个故事了。”
灰烬地点了点头。
“好吧——基蒂今天早上写信给爱丽丝——然后他们就见面了。索尔比一家告诉我,从那时起,爱丽丝就一直保留着她的房间——趴在地上。我刚刚收到索尔比夫人的来信。这难道不是一件很不寻常、很不雅的事吗?”
艾什审视了这位皱着眉头的女士——穿着黑色丝绸和白色蕾丝,身材高大、令人生畏。她似乎暗示了英国星期日的所有那些他最秘密不喜欢的方面——法利赛主义、沉闷和大餐。他彻底地感觉到自己是凯蒂夫人的冠军。
“我应该认为这是很自然的,”他回答道。
格罗斯维尔夫人举起双手。
“自然!——当她知道——”
“她怎么知道?”艾什激动地喊道。 “这样的孩子怎么可能知道或猜出任何事情?她只知道,她的母亲受到了某种黑色的指控,但没有人会揭穿她。他们怎么能?但与此同时,她的母亲受到了排斥,她觉得自己被拖入了耻辱之中,不明白为什么或为什么。还有什么比这更可悲、更感人的吗?”
他情绪激动地站了起来,开始来回踱步。格罗斯维尔夫人的表情先是惊讶,然后又动摇了。
“哦——当然,这非常悲伤,”她说——“非常悲伤。”但我应该认为基蒂足够聪明,至少明白爱丽丝一定有什么严重的理由与她母亲决裂——”
“你们别忘了她还是个孩子,”艾什愤怒地说——“还不到十九岁!”
“是的,确实如此,”格罗斯维尔夫人不情愿地说。 “我必须承认,我发现很难公正地评判她。她和我自己的女儿们太不一样了。”
艾希连忙答应。然后他感到很奇怪,他竟然这么快就陷入了基蒂与她父亲的家人的保护者的地位;他把角收了起来。他继续工作,格罗斯维尔夫人坐了一会儿,双手放在腿上,静静地观察着他。
最后她说:
“所以你认为,威廉,我最好别管凯蒂?”
“关于什么?”艾希笑着抬起了卷发的头。 “别给我太多的责任。我对年轻女士一无所知。”
“我不知道我知道——很多,”格罗斯维尔夫人坦白地说。 “我自己的女儿们非常出色。”
艾什保持沉默。尽管格罗斯维尔姐妹是远房表兄弟,但他几乎不了解格罗斯维尔的女孩们,而且也从来不明白自己有什么理由应该了解她们。
“无论如何,我清楚地看到,”格罗斯维尔夫人又停顿了一下后说道,“你对基蒂感到非常抱歉。当然,你人很好,我发现大多数人都是这么想的。”
“挂起来!亲爱的格罗斯维尔夫人,他们为什么不应该呢?艾什说,在椅子上转过身来。 “如果地球上有一个孤独的小人,我想今天午餐时的那个人就是凯蒂女士。”
“昨晚那场荒唐的展览之后!”格罗斯维尔夫人耸耸肩说道。 “你永远不知道她在哪里。你觉得她看起来病了?”
“我确信她头痛欲裂,”阿什大胆地说。 “我无法想象为什么你和格罗斯维尔不应该像爱丽丝女士那样为她感到难过。 她是 什么也没做。”
“不,确实如此,”格罗斯维尔夫人站起身来说道。然后她补充道:“我去看看她是否头痛。威廉,你必须咨询我们;你真是太了解妈妈了。”
“唉,我不好啊!”艾什充满活力地说。 “但我确信凯蒂女士的善意会得到回报。”
他对她微笑,希望她能去天堂。
格罗斯维尔夫人凝视着。
“我希望我们永远善待她,”她带着一丝傲慢说道。然后图书馆的门在她身后关上了。
那天下午,“仁慈”确实是当天的惯例,从格罗斯维尔夫妇到凯蒂夫人都是如此。艾什想知道她是否喜欢它。女孩们披着披肩跟着她。格罗斯维尔夫人把她安置在后客厅的沙发上。一瓶盐挥发物出现了,卡罗琳·格罗斯维尔没有去两次主日学校,而是全身心地为凯蒂扇风,尽管天气——阳光明媚,东风凛冽——在阿什看来,是火灾而不是粉丝。
他本人也被带走,按照惯例进行周日散步,克肖先生现在决心维护新闻界的神圣权利。步行者从花园门离开房子,要穿过更远的客厅才能到达花园门。沙发上的基蒂,一个风景如画的人物,向艾什点头道别,然后,坐在她身后的卡罗琳·格罗斯维尔没有看到,向他看了最后一眼,这迫使他匆忙离开,以免内心的笑声传出去。
穿过平坦的剑桥郡乡村的步行既漫长又费力。尽管至少有一半的时间里,阿什的同伴、活跃的记者对这位新部长的看法最差。艾什什么都不知道;没有意见;他什么都不关心,除了时不时地跟踪一只陌生的鸟,或者狗的滑稽动作,或者赛马的故事,他满怀热情地谈论这些故事,完全不关心那些克肖热心的政治话题。满的。
记者一次又一次地以最有吸引力的姿态将她们放在眼皮子底下。徒然;艾什不会拥有其中任何一个。直到突然,一个偶然的词引发了印度边境问题,这一问题非常重要,但英国公众却完全不知道。艾什漫不经心地开始说话;细流变成了溪流,不久他就以一种冲动、一种知识、一种成熟而谨慎的判断力说出了这句话,这让他旁边的人感到相当惊讶。
漫长的道路,平坦的沼泽草地,广阔的银色天空,逐渐延长的白天,一切都在不知不觉中过去了。记者发现自己陷入了困境 介意——坚强、活跃、富有。他温顺地投降了,但越来越惊讶,当他们再次站在房子的台阶上时,他对他的同伴说:
“你肯定关注这些事情很多年了。为什么你从未在众议院发言或写过任何东西?”
艾希的脸色顿时变了。
“那有什么好处呢?”他带着轻松的微笑说道。 “不知道的人不会相信我;而那些知道的人却不想告诉。”
克肖的脸上流露出一丝不耐烦。
“我认为,”他说,“我们的政府是通过讨论来治理的。”
艾什笑了,转身走上台阶,指着美丽的花园和树木繁茂的公园。
“或者是乡间别墅政府——哪一个?如果你在这方面支持我们——我猜你会的——这次步行将值得辩论——现在不是吗?”
受宠若惊的记者笑了笑,然后他们进了屋。格罗斯维尔勋爵从内厅看到了他们。
“杰弗里·克利夫来了,”当他们到达他身边时,他对艾什说道。
“他有吗?”艾什说着,转身上楼。
但克肖表现出了浓厚的兴趣。 “你是说那个旅行者?”他问他的主人。
“我愿意。像往常一样生气。”老人说道。 “他和我的侄女凯蒂是一对。”
当艾什回到客厅时,他发现客厅里充满了谈笑声。但这是一场谈笑风生,格罗斯维尔家族似乎只参与其中。格罗斯维尔夫人僵硬地坐在维多利亚早期的沙发上,眼镜架在鼻梁上,阅读着报纸。 时 前一天的内容,或者看起来正在阅读。大女儿艾米·格罗斯维尔(Amy Grosville)正在角落里忙着为一件灯饰做最后的润色。卡罗琳坐在地板上,正在向邻居的小孩展示如何拼拼图。格罗斯维尔勋爵自称正在更远的房间里与奥地利伯爵交谈。但每隔一分钟,他就焦躁不安地走进大客厅,站在谈话和笑声的边缘,然后又转身回到伯爵身边——与此同时,伯爵出现在两个房间之间的开口处,他双手叉腰,热切地注视着基蒂·布里斯托尔和她的同伴,同时按照礼貌要求等待主人的归来。
艾什立刻推测格罗斯维尔家族正在叛乱。他也不用走很远就能找到原因。
那个令人惊叹的少女真的和早上沉思的身影一模一样吗?基蒂脱掉了黑色的衣服,穿上了一件极其优雅的“半盥洗”礼服,毫无疑问,它的昂贵已经深深地融入了格罗斯维尔夫人的灵魂。在格罗斯维尔公园,“茶袍”这一新时尚并没有受到欢迎。它被认为只是愚蠢而奢侈的女性的一种装饰,而“下午礼服”虽然比晨礼服更自命不凡,但仍然是一件清醒的事情,无论如何都不能与自然和自然的装饰效果相混淆。声音感觉保留给晚上。
但基蒂的裙子是某种白色丝绸材质的;它展示了她细长的喉咙和她瘦白的手臂的一部分。院长夫人温斯顿夫人偷偷地研究着,心里感到一种满足。因为终于有了一件她曾在和平街的商店橱窗里怀着贪婪和敬畏的心情凝视过一两次的礼服,它被带到了现实世界,穿在一个简单的凡人身上。那时它们是真实的,真正的女人可以佩戴它们;直到现在,院长的妻子还几乎不相信这一点。
缺乏!这些混合物对于金发碧眼、身材娇美的风流女子来说是多么合适啊!基蒂容光焕发,得意洋洋。艾什确信格罗斯维尔夫人知道这一点,尽管她可能会把自己挡在后面 时。女孩纤细的手指比划着帮助她的舌头;一只小脚轻轻地踩在另一只脚上;闪闪发光的丝绸褶皱将她包裹在一层闪闪发光的白色之中,上面那颗美丽的头——不经意地向后仰——在她坐的天鹅绒椅子的红色背景下闪闪发光。
院长就坐在她身边,显然玩得很开心。而在她面前,站着刚刚到来的伟人,全神贯注于她,并与她进行着激烈而激烈的辩论。
“你好吗,克里夫?”当他走近时,艾什说道。
杰弗里·克利夫猛地转过身,两人之间打了个敷衍的寒暄。
“你什么时候到达?”艾什一边说,一边坐进扶手椅。
“上个星期二。但这并不重要,”克利夫不耐烦地说,“没什么重要的,除了我必须想办法打败凯蒂女士!”
他站了起来,双手叉在身体两侧,俯视着面前的女孩,他那张古怪的脸因压抑的笑声而抽搐。这是一个奇怪的人物,身材高大,瘦削,关节松散,脸上是一张苍白的羊皮纸脸,下巴有些突出,鼻子又长又精致,一头奇怪的金发下垂着细眉毛。他有着某些范戴克骑士般的颓废、疲惫不堪的外表,当然也没有任何公认的英俊。但正如阿什所熟知的那样,杰弗里·克里夫的外表和个性对英国“社会”内外的无数男女来说,是一种更容易被嘲笑而不是被解释的迷恋。
凯蒂女士的目光肯定没有其他人。当他谈到“击败”她时,她笑着表示蔑视,她和克利夫之间掠过一抹战斗的目光。克利夫仍然用眼神看着她,考虑着要开辟什么新天地。
“主题是什么?”艾什说。
“男人比女人更虚荣,”基蒂说。 “这是千真万确的事实,简直不值一提——不是吗?克利夫先生对我们对衣服的热爱以及对被钦佩的热爱胡说八道。好像那是虚荣!当然这只是我们的责任感。”
“责任?”克利夫扭着胡子喊道。 “给谁?”
“当然是对男人们!如果我们不喜欢衣服,如果我们不喜欢被人钦佩——你会在哪里?”
“就我个人而言,我可以继续下去,”克利夫说。 “你期望我们太过屈服。”
“好像如果你不高兴的话我们就应该带你去那里!”基蒂说。 “伪君子!如果我们不为你穿衣、绘画、闲聊、撒谎,你就不会看我们——如果我们这样做——”
“当然,这一切都取决于它做得有多好,”克利夫插话道。
基蒂笑了。
“这是根据结果来判断的。我看看动机。我再说一遍,如果我撒粉、画画,那不是因为我虚荣,而是因为给你带来快乐是我痛苦的责任。”
“如果这不能给我带来快乐呢?”
她耸了耸肩。
“那你就说我傻吧——不是虚荣。我应该做得更好。”
“无论如何,”艾什说,“取悦我们是你的责任吗?”
“是的——”基蒂叹了口气。 “运气更差!”
她轻轻地靠回椅子上,周围的笑声刺激着她的眼睛闪闪发亮。院长不安地加入了进来,毫无疑问,他意识到远处格罗斯维尔夫人正在通过尖锐的、噼啪作响的动作来愚蠢地表达自己的意思——通过 时。克利夫看了那小小的身影一会儿,然后抓起一把椅子,跨坐在她面前。
“我想知道你为什么要取悦我们?”他突然说道,他那双美丽的蓝眼睛注视着她。
“啊!”基蒂举起双手说道,“要是我们知道就好了!”
“你在你的性别悲剧中发现了这一点吗?”
“或者喜剧,”院长站起来说道。 “我相信你的话,基蒂女士。今晚你有责任取悦 me。记住,你答应过我们要多说一些法语。”他竖起了一根警告的手指。
“我不认识‘阿塔莉’,”基蒂端庄地说,双手交叉放在膝盖上。
当院长穿过房间走向格罗斯维尔夫人时,院长暗自微笑,并试图通过对新牧师的态度和声音的公正批评来分散她对侄女的注意力,就像那天早上他们在教堂里所表现的那样。
这是一项无望的任务——因为基蒂的个性就是那种吸引人、吞噬注意力、做旁观者想做的事的性格。眼睛和耳朵被迫被卷入她制造的小漩涡中,它们的主人让它们屈服,时而欣喜,时而厌恶。
例如,玛丽·莱斯特不久就进来了,刚刚与伊迪丝·曼利夫人散步。她也换了衣服。但这是一个谨慎而合理的改变,格罗斯维尔夫人看着她柔软的灰色长袍,领子和袖口都是细棉布的——刺绣精致,但剪裁和风格却像修女一样——充满了赞许的热情,这完全是由基蒂的大胆行为激发的。与此同时,玛丽看到凯蒂,轻轻地扬起了眉毛。她扫过人群,冷冷地向杰弗里·克利夫打了个招呼,然后就在更远的房间里坐了下来,路易斯·哈曼和达雷尔也跟着他们,他们刚刚乘下午的火车到达。显然,她观察着凯蒂,并且不喜欢地观察着她。同伴们的态度可没那么简单。
“多么了不起的年轻女子啊!”不久,哈曼张着嘴小声说道。 “我想她和克利夫是老朋友了。”
“我相信他们以前从未见过面,”玛丽说。
达雷尔笑了。
“基蒂女士的预赛很快就结束了,”他说。 “她告诉我,其他夜生活还不够长,不足以从谈论天气开始。”
“天气?”哈曼说。 “目前她和克利夫似乎正在讨论‘茶花夫人’。从什么时候开始,巴黎开始带年轻女孩去看这种东西了?”
莱斯特小姐轻轻咳嗽了一声,弯下腰对哈曼说道:“特兰莫尔女士给我看了你的照片。这是一个可爱的、美味的东西!我从来没有见过比天使更神圣的东西。”
哈曼露出受宠若惊的笑容。玛丽·莱斯特提到了一份《菲利波·里皮报喜》,这是他刚刚为他所热爱的特兰莫尔夫人用水彩画创作的。然而,他却热衷于许多贵族女性,与她们一起喝茶,并为她们提供许多无害而优雅的服务。他按照拉斐尔前派的模特画了他们的小尺寸肖像,他偶尔会给他们展示他们最喜欢的意大利画作的副本——虽然有点弱,但很迷人。他和玛丽现在开始以极大的热情和许多爱抚的形容词谈论佛罗伦萨。对于哈曼来说,大多数事情都是“甜蜜的”;对于玛丽来说,“有趣”或“有启发性”。她说话又快又流利;细心的观察者可能会猜到,她希望人们看到,对于她的基蒂·布里斯托尔夫人来说,调情,无论是否合乎品味,根本不存在。
达雷尔断断续续地听着,看着克利夫和凯蒂夫人,想了很多。那个非凡的女孩肯定对克利夫“继续”,就像她在圣詹姆斯广场第一次认识艾什的那天晚上对他“继续”一样。阿什显然平静地接受了这一切,因为他仍然坐在两人旁边,捻着裁纸刀,微笑着,有时会说一句话,但更多时候是沉默的,显然对基蒂和克利夫来说根本不重要。
达雷尔知道新任部长不喜欢并鄙视杰弗里·克利夫。他也意识到克利夫也回应了这些情绪,并且不久之后他不太可能被发现在外交政策的某些问题上公开攻击阿什,而克利夫认为自己是外交政策的大师。这两个人在格罗斯维尔家的屋檐下相遇,让达雷尔感到好奇。为什么克利夫会受到格罗斯维尔这些非常受人尊敬而又拘谨的人的邀请?达雷尔只能想到,旅行者的母亲埃莉诺·克利夫夫人可能与他们有着无数的、不断延伸的联系,这些联系将一大群英国家庭联系在一起;此外,格罗斯维尔夫人尽管热衷于慈善事业和福音派,但她总是对“狮子”表现出相当明显的品味——男性的那种。在格罗斯维尔公园会见的女性中,可以肯定的是。格罗斯维尔夫人没有为自己的性别找任何借口。但她是一位雄心勃勃的女主人,知道愉快的聚会并不是仅由圣徒组成的。因此,男人必须供养罪人。对于当时最流行的一些人物,她小心翼翼地不知道太多。因为,对于社会来说,一个人必须生活;既然如此,今天的严格随时可能会被明天的宽松所取代。无论如何,这就是达雷尔对形势的分析。
然而,当一切都说完时,他仍然感到惊讶。去年冬天,克利夫从波斯的一些非凡旅行回来后,在里维埃拉停留,在戛纳与法国子爵夫人的风流韵事登上了英国报纸。没有人知道这件事的确切真相。随后立即出版的克利夫的一小本诗集——非常杰出、热情而又晦涩的诗集——提供了许多线索,但没有任何解决方案。然而,没有人认为这个故事绝不是一个糟糕的故事。此外,最后一本获得巨大成功的游记包含了达雷尔记忆中对外国使团最恶意的攻击之一。如果说传教士在英国有支持者的话,那就是格罗斯维尔夫人。她是否代表艾米小姐或卡罗琳小姐进行设计(材料设计)?达雷尔对这个想法笑了。克利夫当然必须嫁给金钱,并且不能被任何艾米小姐或基蒂夫人所俘获。
但是?——达雷尔看了一眼身边的女士,忙碌的思绪又转了转。他看到了莱斯特小姐和克利夫之间的问候。天很冷;但尽管如此,全世界都知道他们曾经是朋友。大约五年前,莱斯特小姐在特兰莫尔夫人的羽翼下度过了一个辉煌的赛季,与杰弗里·克利夫一起多次出现在公共场合?然后他向东出发,探索湄公河上游水域,兴奋的流言蜚语逐渐平息。最近,她的名字与威廉·阿什的名字紧密相连。
好吧,就世界而言,她可能会与其中任何一个交配——与臭名昭著的克利夫或年轻的阿什交配。当达雷尔想到,只有对他和像他这样的人来说,只有中等能力、中等收入的人民人才是玛丽·莱斯特的嫁妆和血统遥不可及的少女时,达雷尔的痛苦之心收缩了。与此同时,他通过成为她的好朋友来报复自己,并且在与她的谈话中有时允许自己采取非常尖刻的直言不讳的言辞。
“你们三个在闲聊什么?”艾什说,不久从另一个房间走进来加入他们。
“像往常一样,”达雷尔说。 “我正在聆听完美。莱斯特小姐和哈曼正在讨论照片。”
阿什忍住了一个小哈欠。他在玛丽身边倒下,发誓既然人们试图对照片有如此多的了解,那么从照片中消失就不再有乐趣了。与此同时,玛丽不由自主地站了起来,朝远处的房间看去,那里克利夫和凯蒂女士的喧闹声越来越大。
“他们会唱歌,”艾什懒洋洋地说——“而且不会是赞美诗。”
事实上,凯蒂夫人已经打开了钢琴,并开始演奏法国和歌剧的第一小节。然而,当基蒂的音乐响起时,格罗斯维尔夫人就挺直了身子。她合上福音派布道卷,这是她用圣经换来的。 时;她把眼镜猛地放在旁边的桌子上。
“艾米!——卡罗琳!”
那些年轻女士站了起来。格罗斯维尔夫人也是如此。与此同时,凯蒂坐在那儿,手指悬空,眼睛里含着笑意,等待着姨妈的动作。
“基蒂,请不要让我干扰你的演奏,”格罗斯维尔夫人非常有礼貌地说,“但也许你可以推迟半个小时。我现在要给仆人们念书——”
“亲切!”基蒂跳了起来说道。 “我本来打算给克利夫先生演奏一些奥芬巴赫的曲子。”
“啊,但是图书馆里可以听到钢琴声,你的表弟艾米会吹风琴——”
“上帝!”基蒂说。 “我们会像老鼠一样安静。或者”——她快步追赶她的姨妈——“我要来唱歌吗,莉娜姨妈?”
艾什躲在玛丽·莱斯特身后,无声地笑了起来。
“不,谢谢!”格罗斯维尔夫人急忙说道。她窸窸窣窣地走开了,她的女儿们跟在后面。
基蒂飞进内室,克里夫跟在后面。
“我做了什么?”她气喘吁吁地对哈曼说道,哈曼站起来迎接她。 “周日可以在这里弹钢琴吗?”
“这取决于你玩什么,”哈曼说。
“谁创造了你的英语星期天?”凯蒂急躁地说。 “我的要求——谁?“
她向天堂的所有风发起了挑战——踮起脚尖,双手放在椅背上,这是最小、最微妙的愤怒。
克利夫说:“呼吸可以消除一切,就像呼吸可以造成一切一样。” “来打台球吧,凯蒂女士。你刚才说你打球了。”
“台球!”哈曼举起双手说道。 “在星期天-点击此处?“
“他们能听到球声吗?”基蒂指着图书馆急切地说。
玛丽·莱斯特一直在漫不经心地看着一本书,现在她把它放下了。
“这肯定会让格罗斯维尔夫人非常痛苦,”她说,声音刻意柔和,但正因为如此,也许就更重要了。
基蒂看了一眼玛丽,艾什看到她脸颊突然泛红。她挑衅地转向克利夫。 “还有半个小时,不是吗,在你需要穿衣服之前——”
“更多,”克利夫说。 “一起来。”
他向门走去,并为她打开了门。现在轮到玛丽·莱斯特脸红了——她的拒绝是那么赤裸裸、朴实无华。当凯蒂经过他身边时,艾什站了起来。
“你怎么也不来?”她停顿了一下说道。一双任性的眉毛下,深邃漆黑的眸子里闪过一丝光芒。 “莉娜阿姨永远不会生气 您”
“谢谢你!我应该很高兴能起到缓冲作用,但不幸的是我在晚饭前还有一些工作必须做。”
“你必须吗?”她不确定地看着他,然后又看看克利夫。在昏暗的灯光下,在这间陈设丰富的大房间里,她浅金色的头发、白色的裙子、苗条的活力和优雅吸引了所有人的目光——甚至包括玛丽·莱斯特。
“我必须,”艾什微笑着重复道。 “我很高兴你的头痛好多了。”
“一点也好不到哪儿去!”
“那你就伪装成女主角吧。”
他站在她身边,居高临下地看着她,他的身高和力量与她的娇小形成鲜明对比。显然,他那令人愉快的超然态度和他那略带干涩的语气让她很恼火。她尖刻地回答了一句,然后就消失在克利夫为她打开的门里。
阿什回到自己的房间,处理了一些外交部的工作,然后让自己抽烟冥想。在他开始写论文大约十分钟后,台球的咔嗒声突然停止了。大厅里有人说话,他认为格罗斯维尔勋爵也在其中。现在一切都寂静无声了。
他想起下午发生的事,既好笑又恼火。克利夫是个不择手段的家伙,孩子的头可能会转过来。将来应该保护她免受他的侵害——他发誓她应该这样做。特兰莫尔女士应该把它拿在手里。在此之前,她在其他各个方面都可以与克利夫相媲美。
是什么让这个性格臭名昭著、前身臭名昭著的人来到了格罗斯维尔公园——英格兰为数不多的乡间别墅之一,那里仍然保留着旧清教徒的限制?据说他正在寻找一个职位——事实上,阿什碰巧正式知道了这一点;格罗斯维尔勋爵有很大的影响力。此外,由于未能获得任命,人们认为他的目标是议会和公职。格罗斯维尔范围内有两个安全的县城。
“然而,即使他想要某样东西,他也无法通过自己的行为来得到它,”阿什想。 “换做其他人,都会第一次守安息日,不再与格罗斯维尔夫妇的侄女调情。但这就是克里夫的全部——也许也是他最好的一点。”
他可能会补充说,由于克利夫应该希望得到外交部或殖民地办公室的任命,因此他可能会认为表现出比他那天下午向新任副部长实际上表现出的更加文雅的态度。外交部长。但阿什很少或从不沉迷于这种思考。此外,他和克利夫太熟了,不适合摆姿势。曾经有一段时间,他们的关系非常友好,克利夫经常呆在他母亲的客厅里。特兰莫尔夫人有一个弱点,就是“影响”有家庭、有能力的年轻男子。事实上,克利夫欠她很多。然后她就有理由对他产生不好的看法了。而且,他的旅行把他带到了世界的另一边。艾什现在很清楚克里夫把他视为敌对势力,不会试图欺骗或安抚他。
他认为克里夫那天下午见到他时感到非常惊讶。也许正是这个男人易激动的本性突然产生了敌意,才让他陷入了与凯蒂夫人的胡言乱语之中。
从那时起,艾什的思想就只剩下基蒂了——基蒂的两个方面,上午和下午。他若有所思地穿好衣服,下了楼,还在做梦。
晚餐时,他发现自己负责照顾玛丽·莱斯特。基蒂坐在桌子的另一边,与他自己和克里夫相距甚远。她穿着一件蓝色和银色的帝国小礼服,极其简单,就像她下午穿的礼服极其精致一样。
阿什观察着格罗斯维尔女孩情不自禁地对她进行的秘密研究——她的肩带和裸露的长臂,她的高腰和她头发上的蓝色和银色发带。基蒂本人坐在一旁,陷入沉思或自豪的沉默中。院长就在她身边,但她几乎不跟他说话,至于那个收留她的邻居年轻人,他对她就像不是一样。
“吵架了吗?”艾什低声询问他的同伴。
玛丽静静地看着他。
“格罗斯维尔勋爵要求他们不要玩——因为仆人们。”
“好的!”艾什说。 “当然,仆人们正在管家的房间里打牌。”
“一点也不。他们正在和格罗斯维尔夫人一起唱赞美诗。”
艾什一脸难以置信。
“只有那些无法自拔的奴隶和女佣。没关系。凯蒂女士愿意吗?
“她似乎让格罗斯维尔勋爵非常生气。格罗斯维尔夫人和我平息了他的情绪。”
“你是否?”艾什说。 “你真是太好了。”
玛丽脸色微红,没有回答。不久,艾什又恢复了。
“你不也像我一样对不起她吗?”
“为了凯蒂女士?我想她一定能很好地自娱自乐。”
“在我看来,她是最可悲的悲惨小人物,”艾什慢慢地说。
莱斯特小姐笑了。
“我真的不明白,”她说。
“哦,是的,你会的,”他坚持道——“如果你想一下。善待她——好吗?”
她挺起身子,带着冷酷的尊严。
“我承认她从来没有丝毫吸引过我。”
艾什回到他的晚餐,模模糊糊地意识到他说得像个傻瓜。
当女士们退出后,谈话转向了杰弗里·克利夫(Geoffrey Cliffe)带下的周日报纸中包含的来自远东的一些重要消息,并且推测这些消息构成了住在房子里的两位部长当天下午收到的电报的一部分。外交部信使。德黑兰政府正周期性地对英国发脾气。他一直在干涉阿富汗事务,与俄罗斯调情,并对英国部长提出荒谬的指控。人们谈论着对布什郡的远征,激进派媒体也走上了战争道路。内阁部长很少说话。枢密院勋爵因在私人事务中为皇室提供建议而受到尊敬,但他不需要对波斯湾有任何看法。但阿什很受吸引并且谈得很好。德黑兰的部长是他的老朋友,他以幽默的方式描述了国王和他的部长们出于政治原因对他进行的人身攻击,这让餐桌上充满了乐趣。
突然克利夫插话了。他一直焦躁不安地听着,尽管艾什出于尖锐的礼貌曾有一两次把他纳入谈话中。不久之后,在一个有些戏剧性的时刻,他遇到了艾什的一句直接而激烈的矛盾声明。艾什脸红了,两人之间开始了一场决斗,大家很快就成为了沉默的旁观者。阿什拥有官方知识资源;克利夫最近就在现场,他以一种隐蔽的傲慢来充分发挥目击者的优势,而阿什则以令人惊讶的粗心和好脾气来忍受。最后克利夫说了一些离谱的话,艾什笑了;格罗斯维尔勋爵突然解散了该党。
艾什微笑着走出餐厅,抚摸着一只漂亮的白色西班牙猎犬,好像什么也没发生过一样。穿过大厅时,哈曼发现自己和院长在一起,院长看上去很严肃,全神贯注。
“这是一个奇怪的景象,”哈曼说。 “阿什的平静令人惊叹。”
“我宁愿看到他更生气,”院长慢慢地说。
“他一直是一个非常宽容、随和的人。”
院长摇了摇头。
“一抹 愤怒 时不时地会让他变得完整。”
“他有这个能力吗?”
“也许不是,”小院长说道,他的表情一闪而过,让他这个脆弱的人显得更加庄重。 “但没有它,他很难成为一个伟人。”
与此同时,杰弗里·克利夫朝客厅里基蒂·布里斯托尔的角落走去,他那张奇怪的、扭曲的脸仍然带着报复性的红光。玛丽·莱斯特意识到了这一点,也意识到基蒂向艾什进来时投来的某种眼神,而克里夫正在打开一堆杂乱无章的赞美和赞美,这些一开始对她没有多大影响。但威廉·阿什却投入到与伊迪丝·曼利夫人的谈话中,从表面上看,他很快就愉快地陷入了八卦之中,他高大的人完全放松地坐在一张深扶手椅上,而伊迪丝夫人微笑着俯身在他身上。与此同时,女士们对基蒂有些遗弃。格罗斯维尔夫人几乎不跟她说话,女孩们也明显避开她。有一瞬间,凯蒂环顾四周,突然摇晃着她小小的肩膀,就像一匹挣脱马具的小马驹一样,狂暴起来。她和克利夫玩得那么开心,那么吵闹,以至于整个客厅的人都不安地注意到了他们。格罗斯维尔夫人怒目而视,一下子猛地站起来,又坐下来。她的女儿们与彬彬有礼地侍候她们的绅士们交谈得比以往任何时候都更加杂乱无章。另一方面,莱斯特小姐与路易斯·哈曼的谈话比平常更加温和、丰富。最后,院长的妻子看了院长一眼,露出善意的痛苦信号,院长走了上前。
“基蒂女士,”他在两人旁边坐下说道,“你忘了你答应过我一些法语吗?”
基蒂向他露出一张火辣而叛逆的脸。
“是吗?我应该说什么?阿尔弗雷德·德·缪塞吗?
“不,”院长说,“我想不是。”
“一些——一些”——她努力回忆——“一些泰奥菲尔·戈蒂埃?”
“不,当然不是!”院长急忙说道。
“好吧,因为我对他一无所知——”基蒂笑道。
“这太淘气了,”院长举起一根手指说道。 “让我推荐拉马丁。”
凯蒂固执地摇摇头。 “我一句台词都没学过。”
“然后是一些老家伙,”院长很有说服力地说。 “我渴望听到你在高乃依或拉辛的表演。我们应该 所有 请享用。”
突然,他布满皱纹的手温柔地落在女孩冰冷的小指上,拍了拍。他们的目光相遇,基蒂狂野而富有挑战性,院长则充满了空灵的仁慈,这与他作为朝臣和世人的性格非常吻合。他们身上有一种明亮的甜蜜,似乎在说:“可怜的孩子!我明白。但要成为一个 小 善良——而且聪明——一切都会好起来的。”
突然,凯蒂的神情动摇了。所有的严厉都从她瘦弱的年轻美貌中消失了。她转身离开克利夫,院长看到她因屈服而颤抖。
“我想我可以说一些‘Polyeucte’,”她温柔地说。
院长拍了拍手,站了起来。
“格罗斯维尔夫人,”他提高了声音说——“女士们先生们,基蒂夫人答应给我们讲更多的法国诗歌。你记得她昨晚背诵得多么令人钦佩。但这是周日,她会给我们一些不同的东西。”
格罗斯维尔夫人不耐烦地站了起来,又坐下了。一阵普遍的动静。椅子被转动或向前拉,直到形成一个圆圈。与此同时,院长与基蒂商量后继续说道:
“基蒂夫人将背诵高乃依美丽的悲剧《Polyeucte》中的一个场景——宝琳在目睹了因拒绝向众神献祭而被斩首的丈夫的殉难后,从刑场返回时,她的心融化了通过她所看到的爱和牺牲,她当时地向同样庄严的信仰敞开心扉,并恳求同样的死亡。”
院长坐下来,凯蒂走到了圆圈的中心。她想了一会儿,嘴唇动了动,仿佛想起了台词。然后她低头看了看自己裸露的手臂和衣服,皱起眉头,突然走近伊迪丝·曼利夫人。
“我可以要那个吗?”她指着伊迪丝夫人膝盖上的一件蕾丝斗篷说道。 “我有点冷。”
伊迪丝夫人把它递给她,她把它扔到身边。
“演员!”克利夫低声说道,脸上带着有趣的笑容。
无论如何,她的冲动对她很有帮助。她的身形和衣服消失在一片白色之中。可以说,她一瞬间就被传福音了——一个最天真的、最属灵的幽灵。她美丽的头颅,她容光焕发、容光焕发的脸庞,她放在白色褶皱上的小手,仅凭这些就留下了她的印象,与她嘴唇所吟诵的严峻而动人的悲剧融为一体。她的观众一开始带着尴尬或敌对的神情观看,这是英国人对伟大的艺术作品的自然保护。然后,对于那些懂法语的人来说,热情高涨的诗句和高贵的诗句开始讲述。而那些无法跟上的人则逐渐被这个纤细、颤抖的生物的手势和语气所吸引,十分钟前,他们中的大多数人还认为它只是喧闹的调情,暗示并传达了最美好、最引人注目的爱情色彩,信仰、牺牲。
当她停下来时,现场陷入了片刻的沉寂。然后伊迪丝夫人长长地吸了一口气,表达了欢迎的平常心,恢复了日常生活的气氛。
“怎么样 可以 你都记得了吗?
凯蒂坐下来,嘴唇轻蔑地颤抖着。
“我每周都必须在修道院里说这句话。”
“我明白,”克利夫在达雷尔耳边说道——“昨晚她就是多娜·索尔。一个热情好客的年轻女子。”
与此同时,凯蒂抬起头,发现艾什就在她身边。他说:“太棒了!”——但他说什么对她来说并不重要。他的表情告诉她,她已经感动了他,而他不能对此进行任何愚蠢的喋喋不休。她的眼里绽放出异常甜蜜的笑容;当格罗斯维尔夫人走过来向她表示感谢时,女孩急忙站起来,以一种外国人的方式,礼貌地吻了她的手。格罗斯维尔勋爵由衷地说:“我保证,基蒂,你应该上台!”晚餐前,她也怀着激动的心情对他微笑,忘记了他的责骂和她自己的无礼。事实上,整个公司——除了两个例外——都彻底反感了。整个晚上,基蒂都沐浴在阳光和奉承之中。她以一种欢乐的温柔迎接它,而那个仍然披着白色床单的小身影,成了房间里友善的中心。
院长得意洋洋。
“我亲爱的莱斯特小姐,”不久,他发现自己靠近那位女士,说道,“你听说过有什么更好的做法吗?真是一位了不起的天才!”
玛丽笑了。
“我想知道,”她说,“法国修道院里的人教你什么——以及为什么!这一切都是如此奇特,不是吗?”
那天深夜,艾什走进了他的房间——不过,比他平常的时间早了一些。他甚至厌倦了格罗斯维尔勋爵的闲聊,离开吸烟室时仍然在说话。事实上,他希望一个人呆着,而他的血管里的那种感觉告诉他,一种新的动机已经占据了他的生活。
他坐在开着的窗户旁,回顾当天的场景和感受——早上与基蒂的采访——下午的调情风骚——晚上充满灵感的诗意孩子。他很快就下定了决心,但仍然坚定而坚定。他会向凯蒂·布里斯托尔求婚,而且他会立即向她求婚。
为什么?他几乎不认识她。他的母亲、他的家人会认为这很疯狂。毫无疑问,这是疯狂的。然而,就他自己而言,这取决于他本性中的某些基本事实——这符合他最深层的性格。他对生活中的困难和非传统事物有着与生俱来的热爱,热爱一切能够激起和刺激他自己对资源和权力的过剩意识的事物。他有一种温柔的感觉,一种侠义怜悯的天赋,只有少数人知道,事实上,这种天赋总是饥肠辘辘地守候着,就像一些饥饿的能力找不到发泄的出口。想到这个美丽的孩子,落在埃斯特雷夫人这样一位母亲的手中,并冒着杰弗里·克利夫半嘲弄的关注所说明的危险,确实让他心碎。他怀着一种奇怪的、富有想象力的清晰预见到了她的未来,他看到她立即成为某个坏人和她自己的性情的猎物。她会陷入悲伤;他已经在她身上看到了这种先见之明。那将是多么浪费啊!
不!——他会介入——在这些方式和突发奇想之前抓住她,现在它们只是怪异或愚蠢的,僵化成可能真正摧毁她的东西。当他想到这种美丽的发展、这种智慧的成熟时,他的脉搏加快了。他还从未见过一个他非常想娶的女孩。他很容易被愚蠢所排斥,更被单纯的和蔼可亲所排斥。水果中的某种酸味和粗糙感——这在政治、思想和爱情上吸引了他。如果她嫁给他,他自豪地向自己发誓,她不会发现他是暴君。许多男人可能会娶她,然后他们会攻击她并试图击垮她。艾什身上最挑剔、最有特色的一切都与这种观念背道而驰。和他在一起,她应该 自由——无论付出什么代价。他刻意地问自己,婚后是否可以看到她和其他男人调情,就像那天她和克利夫调情一样,却仍然克制住不去胁迫她。他的问题得到了回答,或者更确切地说,被搁置一旁,首先是因为对初生爱情的信心——他会如此深爱她,如此忠诚,以至于她会自然地向他寻求建议;他会向他寻求建议。然后,她清楚地认识到,她是一个心灵的生物,而不是理智的生物,主要受到人们的反复无常和好奇心的支配。 智能化,再加上一种相当冷漠、淡漠的气质。前一刻疯狂地投入一种危险或令人兴奋的亲密关系,下一刻,他笑着告别,毫无遗憾——这就是他在未来看到的她,即使是作为妻子。 “她可能会令半个世界感到震惊,”他固执地对自己说——“我会理解她的!”
但他的母亲?——他的朋友?——他的同事?他深知母亲对他的抱负,也深知他在母亲心中的地位。他能不残忍地强加给她一个像凯蒂·布里斯托尔这样的女儿吗?嗯!——他的母亲有着非常丰富的生活经验,并且具有非常自然的思想独立性。他相信她会在这个未驯服且有天赋的生物身上看到希望。他指望特兰莫尔夫人所拥有的力量感,这种力量在驯服凯蒂时只会找到新的发挥空间。
但是凯蒂的妈妈呢?当然,基蒂必须从埃斯特雷夫人手中救出来——必须在特兰莫尔夫人身上找到一个新的、更真实的母亲。但钱可以做到这一点;金钱必须被挥霍。
然后,几乎是第一次,阿什有意识地感受到了财富和出身的喜悦。 鹭?他可以给她——这个小而狂野的可爱的东西!奢华、社交、崇拜——一切都应该是她的。她应该如此被爱、被珍惜,她必然也同样需要爱。
他的梦想是美妙的;最后他突然陷入恐惧,担心凯蒂会嘲笑他并离开他,这实际上只是另一种乐趣。不耽误!情况随时可能发生,让她离开他。现在,或者永远,他必须把她从困难和耻辱中救出来——让敌对的舌头随心所欲地摇摆吧——让她成为他的。
他的政治前途?他很清楚,在当今普遍公开的时代,一个人的私人事务可能对其公共事业产生影响。事实上,他的心全在那个职业上,一想到危及这个职业,他就感到受伤。当然,这不会向任何人推荐他娶埃斯特雷夫人的女儿。另一方面,他想要别人帮忙什么?除了什么工作和“比其他人知道更多”可能会迫使你做什么?他内心的愤世嫉俗很清楚,他已经拥有了其他男人为之奋斗的东西——家庭、金钱和地位。社会必须接受他的妻子;凯蒂一旦因幸福和赞美而变得成熟,就可以随心所欲地生活、欢笑和玩耍。
至于新奇和反复无常,现代世界却乐此不疲。 “暴力者以武力夺取它。”确实有一条分界线;但这段爱情婚姻应该让基蒂保持安全。
他站在那儿,沉浸在一种非常狂喜的决心中,突然外面有一阵剧烈的动静,从他的窗户望去,在与正规花园接壤的紫杉树篱中闪现出一道白色的光。外面的夜色寂静而朦胧,但他确信白色的闪光——以及碎石路上的脚步声。
有东西从外面扔到他身边。他把它捡起来,发现一朵用石头压着的花,绑在一条丝带上。
“疯子!”他对自己说,他的心快要窒息了。
然后他偷偷溜出房间,走下一段蜿蜒的小楼梯,直通花园和橘园旁边的一扇门。他不得不打开门,当他打开门时,地下室的一个房间里的一只狗开始吠叫。但他不能退缩,尽管整件事都是轻率的,这刺痛了他的良心。沿着橘园的阴影一侧滑行,穿过远处云雾缭绕的光线空间,进入远处冬青大道的黑暗,很快就完成了。然后他听到一声轻笑,一个小小的身影从他面前逃走。他紧随其后并追上。
基蒂·布里斯托尔转向他。
“我不是直接扔了吗?”她得意地说。 “他们说女孩不能投掷。”
“但是你为什么要扔呢?”他说,抓住了她的手。
“因为我想和你谈谈。而我却心神不宁,无法入睡。你今天下午怎么没来跟我说话?为什么”——她生气地捶着脚——“你让我去和克利夫先生单独打台球吗?”
“让你!”艾什叫道。 “好像任何人都可以阻止你一样!”
“当然,人们看出你讨厌克利夫先生,”他旁边的白人说道。
“我来这里不是为了谈论杰弗里·克利夫。我 不会 谈论他!不过,当然,你必须知道——”
“我整个下午都在令人厌恶地和他调情? 这就是现实——这就是绝对解决方案! 我将永远想和他调情,无论我在哪里,无论我在做什么。”
“随你便吧,”艾什干巴巴地说,“但我想你会累的。”
“不,不——他让我兴奋!他很坏、虚伪、自私,但他让我兴奋。他只和很少的女性交谈——这一点是可以看出来的。所有的女人都想和他说话。他曾经很欣赏莱斯特小姐,现在却讨厌她了。但她并不讨厌他。不!如果他向她求婚,她明天就会嫁给他。”
“你非常积极,”阿什说。 “请允许我说,我完全不同意你的观点。”
“你对她一无所知,”那个戏弄的声音说道。
“她是我的表弟,小姐。”
“那有什么关系?我知道的比你多,虽然我只见过她两天。我知道——好吧,我害怕她!”
“怕她吗?请问,你出来之后是不是决心要胡说八道?”
“我出来了——没关系!我 am 害怕她。她恨我。我想——他感到空气中一阵颤抖——如果她可以的话,她会伤害我。”
“没有人会伤害你,”艾什说,他的语气发生了变化,“只要你相信自己——”
她开心地笑了。
“给你?哦!你很快就会把它扔掉。”
“试试我吧!”他一边说,一边走近她。 “凯蒂小姐,我有话要对你说。”
突然,她从他身边退缩了。他看不到她的脸,也没有什么可以指引他。
“我认识你还不到三个星期,”他说,被某种热情而深刻的东西所控制。 “我不知道你会说什么——你能否忍受我。但我知道我自己的想法——我不会改变。我我爱你。我向你求婚。”
一阵沉默。夜似乎变得更黑了。然后一只小手握住了他的手,两片柔软的嘴唇压在了上面。他试图抓住她,但她却躲开了他。
“你——你真的——想嫁给我吗?”
“我愿意,凯蒂,我全心全意。”
“你还记得我母亲——关于爱丽丝吗?”
“我记得一切。我们会一起面对。”
“而且——你知道我告诉你我的坏脾气是什么吗?”
“有些废话,不是吗?但我应该对家养的鸽子感到无聊。我想要鹰,凯蒂,有它敏捷的翅膀和大胆明亮的眼睛。”
她哭着挣脱了他。
“你必须听。我 已可以选用——邪恶、可憎、难以控制的脾气。我应该让你痛苦。”
“一点也不,”艾什说。 “我应该非常冷静地对待这件事。我就是这样被造的。”
“然后——我不知道该怎么说——但我有幻想——压倒性的幻想——而且我必须遵循它们。我现在为杰弗里·克利夫准备了一份。”
艾希笑了。
“哦,这不会持续太久。”
“然后其他人就会追随它。我也无能为力。是我的头”——她轻轻拍了拍额头——“好像着火了。”
艾什终于用手臂搂住了她。
“但这是你的心——你会给我。”
她把他推开,与他保持一臂距离。
“你很有钱,不是吗?”她低声说道。
“我过得很好。你想要的一切美好的东西我都可以给你。”
“有一天你会成为特兰莫尔勋爵吗?”
“是的,当我可怜的父亲去世时,”他叹了口气说。他感觉到她的手指再次抚摸着他的手。这是一种精神上的接触,轻盈而温柔。
“每个人都说你很聪明——你有这样的前景。也许你会成为首相。”
“好吧,没办法,”他笑着说道,“如果你愿意过来帮忙的话。”
他听到一声抽泣。
“帮助!我应该是你的毁灭者。我应该破坏一切。你不知道我能做出多大的恶作剧。我无法控制它,它就在我的血液里。”
“你太喜欢政治游戏了,所以不能破坏它,基蒂。”他的声音哽咽,停留在这个名字上。 “你会想成为一位伟大的女士并领导政党。”
“我是不是该?你能教我如何做人吗?”
“你会自然而然地学习。凯蒂,你知道你有多聪明吗?”
“是的,”她叹了口气。 “我很聪明。但总有一些阻碍——带来失败。”
“你今年多大?”他笑着说道。 “十八——还是八十?”
突然,他伸出双臂,将她搂在怀里。她仍然抽泣着,举起双手,搂住他的脖子,像个孩子一样紧紧地抱住他。
“哦!当我第一次看到你的脸时,我就知道了。我一整天都很痛苦——然后你看着我——我想告诉你一切。噢,我崇拜你——我崇拜你!”他们的脸相遇了。艾什尝到了一阵狂喜的滋味。他知道自己终于摆脱了诗人和恋人的陪伴。
他们溜回了房子,艾什看到她消失在橘园另一边的一扇门前——无声无息,没有任何声音。只是最后她把他拉到了身边,在他耳边发出了神圣的低语。
“哦!特兰莫尔夫人会说什么?
然后她逃跑了。但她把问题抛在了脑后,当黎明到来时,艾什发现他已经花了半夜的时间重新尝试寻找某种答案。
第二部分•三年后
“这个世界是一个古老的杀人犯。”
“她的女士将在六点前到达,我的女士。如果你先来的话,我一定要请你稍等一下,并告诉你,夫人已经去找范切特夫人询问她的舞会礼服了。”
凯蒂夫人的女仆如此说道。特兰莫尔夫人犹豫了一下,然后说她会等,并要求可以把亨利少爷带下来。
女仆去接孩子,特兰莫尔夫人走进了客厅。自从他们结婚以来,灰烬夫妇就定居在希尔街的一所房子里——凯蒂对这所房子一见钟情。它古老而高贵,到处都覆盖着十八世纪的装饰,毫无疑问,与当时的精美作品相比,曾经有点华丽和粗糙,但现在随着时间的推移,变得越来越钝化和柔和。基蒂在布置这间房子时表现出了她的急躁和果断。尽管特兰莫尔夫人声称很欣赏它,但实际上,结果对她来说太法国化、太异教了。她自己的房间反映了人们对莫里斯和布尔斯-琼斯日益高涨的崇拜,事实上,她从一开始就是这方面的行家。她的墙壁上覆盖着著名的石榴、茉莉或向日葵图案;她的帷幔是神秘的蓝绿色。她的画要么来自意大利原始人,要么来自他们的现代追随者。凯尔特浪漫主义、基督教象征主义,所有这些感人至深、超凡脱俗、晦涩难懂的东西——实际上是伟大的浪漫主义反应的晚期英国形式——正是在这种影响下,特兰莫尔夫人生活并滋养了她自己的想象力。暗淡的、暗示性的、可悲的;黄昏而不是黎明,秋天而不是春天;渴望而非实现; “微光”而不是正午:正是在这个半明半暗、色彩丰富的球体中,她和她的大多数朋友看到了美丽的帐篷。
但基蒂对此一无所知。她引用了法国人对伯恩琼斯骑士的腿部和关节的怀疑言论;她宣称这么多的模式让她头晕。法国人是世界上唯一懂得 沙龙,无论是作为室内装饰还是谈话。因此,在这些东西很少见的日子里,十八岁的女孩让她的新丈夫为她提供白色镶板的墙壁,轻微镀金,并铺上波斯地毯,地毯的质量是朴素的,黑灰色的,只有边缘被允许开花。墙上挂着几件路易·昆兹(Louis-Quinze)风格的吉朗多勒,一个维尼斯·马丁(Vernis-Martin)屏风,一个古老的法国钟,两三个镶嵌的橱柜,以及一系列轻型的法国风格的椅子和长沙发——这就是她所允许的一切;特兰莫尔夫人的房间总是很拥挤,而基蒂的房间小得多,却总是给人一种宽敞的感觉。法语书籍散落各处。并且只承认一张照片。那是华托为《赛瑟尔登船》中的一组人画的草图。基蒂很喜欢它;特兰莫尔夫人认为这既荒谬又令人不快。
五月的这个下午,当她走进房间时,她带着一如既往的厌恶环顾四周。几张椅子上放着大本带插图的书。其中包含 17 世纪和 18 世纪服装的图片,其中一张展示了鲍彻 (Boucher) 创作的辉煌的蓬巴杜夫人的彩色版画。
跟着她进屋的女仆开始搬书。
“夫人,女士,她正在选择她的服装,”她一边合上几本书一边解释道。
“事情解决了吗?”特兰莫尔夫人说。
女仆回答说她相信这一点,然后拿来一本放在一边、上面有记号的书,打开一盘精美的德隆格维尔夫人的盘子,扮演戴安娜,穿着华丽的狩猎服。
特兰莫尔夫人默默地看着它。她认为它不合时宜,因为它光着脚踝,脚上穿着凉鞋,而且可能非常昂贵。对于这个投石党戴安娜从头到脚都闪闪发光的珠宝,特兰莫尔夫人确信基蒂已经让威廉答应她与女神发型中闪闪发光的华丽钻石新月的对应物。
“看来只有这才适合小姐了。”侍女不满的说道。
“我敢说它看起来会非常好,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “范切特会成功吗?”
“如果夫人还不算太晚的话。”侍女微笑着说道。 “但她花了这么长时间才下定决心——”
“当然,范切特是被逼死的。整个世界似乎都为这个球而疯狂。”
特兰莫尔夫人有些厌恶地耸了耸肩。她不去。自从她的大儿子死后,她就不再喜欢这种场面了。但她很清楚,时尚的伦敦除了谈论和思考别的事情之外,别无其他。她听说大英博物馆的印刷室每天都被一群热切的淑女围困,从早到晚要求博物馆官员的服务。历史悠久的服装和著名的珠宝将在这次活动中大量使用;那些没有被邀请的人甚至没有蔑视的资源,因此毫无疑问和不容置疑的是,一场真正壮丽的奇观的前景;巴黎和伦敦的裁缝师如果能熬过这次努力,将会获得惊人的收获。
“还有阿什先生——你知道他是否会去吗?”见侍女退去,她向侍女问道。
“先生。艾什说他会的,只要他可以只穿宫廷服装。”女仆微笑着说道。 “除非。”夫人恐怕不被允许。”
“她会让他穿上戏服,”特兰莫尔夫人想。 “他会这么做,或者做任何事,以避免发生场面。”
女仆退了下去,只剩下特兰莫尔夫人独自一人。当她坐着等待时,她突然想到了一个想法。她按铃叫管家。
“哪里是 时?”当他出现时,她问道。那人回答说,毫无疑问是在阿什先生的房间里,他会带来的。
“基蒂可能没有看过它,”来访者想。当报纸到达时,她立即转向议会报告。其中包含阿什前一天晚上在众议院发表的重要讲话。特兰莫尔夫人那天早上读这本书时感到很不安,还有几句话需要读完。她自豪地读完这些文章,然后又看了一眼关于这场辩论的主要文章,以及其中对外交部副部长的知识、礼貌和辩论能力的奉承性提及。
“先生。阿什,”说 时,“他理所当然地获得了晋升,不久之后他肯定会得到晋升。在一些不能长期拖延的高级职位的重要重新安排中,阿什先生显然被指定在内阁中占有一席之地。他虽然年轻,但已经做出了令人钦佩的贡献;毫无疑问,他有着美好的未来。”
特兰莫尔夫人放下报纸,陷入了沉思。美好的未来?是的——如果基蒂允许的话——如果基蒂可以被管理。目前,威廉的母亲认为,妻子的反复无常正在危及他事业的整个发展。轮子套着轮子,报纸对它们知之甚少。
结婚已经三年了吧?当威廉给她带来这个消息时,她回想起自己的沮丧,尽管在她看来,从他第一次提到基蒂·布里斯托尔的那一刻起,她似乎就在某种程度上预见到了这一点——这对她的善良产生了强烈的吸引力,而新的和难以定义的声音和态度让她立刻警觉起来。
她是否应该更强烈地反对?事实上,她曾反对过。在整个悲惨的一周里,她从来没有在任何事情上反对过他,她一直在与她的儿子争论和恳求,同时试图把他的叔叔们带进来和他摔跤,因为她看到他可怜的瘫痪的父亲已经无足轻重了。所以要让一个顽固的家庭为此奋斗。但她只是被威廉的温柔、耐心和幽默打垮了。他从未如此坚定,也从未如此可爱。
她已经非常清楚地表明,任何妻子,无论多么严格和可爱,都不能剥夺她,他的母亲,他旧有的感情的一点点——不,她会只接受基蒂,只接受这个被遗弃的小生物吗?她母亲般的臂膀的庇护,甚至她儿子比以前更加温柔和专注的关注,都肯定是她的。此外,他对他所求婚的新娘也用了合理的语言。显而易见,他恋爱了,热烈地恋爱了。但有时候,他可以以同样冷静的敏锐度和同样的超然态度来讨论基蒂、她的家庭、她的成长、她的天赋和缺陷,显然,他可能会考虑埃及或巴尔干问题。特兰莫尔夫人没有被邀请向神灵鞠躬。她被要求接受一个非常有天赋和可爱的孩子,这个孩子常常令人烦恼和挑衅,但充满了光荣的承诺,只有像她和阿什这样有洞察力的人才能完全实现。他笑着告诉她,她对一个愚蠢的儿媳妇是绝对不能容忍的。然而,让伦敦和社会以及几年的爱情和生活发挥作用,基蒂将成为她那个时代的杰出女性之一,就像她之前的特兰莫尔夫人一样。 “你会帮助她,你会训练她,你会妨碍她,”他一边说,一边亲吻母亲的手。 “你会发现,到最后我们都会如此自负,认为是她造就了我们,没有人能阻止我们。”
好吧,她屈服了——当然她屈服了。她已经尽可能地向她瘫痪的丈夫解释了这件事。她安抚了双方家庭;她把基蒂带过来和她住在一起,并为将埃斯特雷夫人驱逐出伦敦和不列颠群岛的谈判提供了建议,以换取丰厚的津贴和偿还她的债务;最后,她好不容易才允许格罗斯维尔一家提供嫁妆,并在格罗斯维尔公园安排婚礼,因为她在接受的任务中成长得如此渴望。
并且有很多个小时的高回报。基蒂一开始竭尽全力扑向威廉的母亲。她温顺、温柔、才华横溢。特兰莫尔夫人几乎和艾什本人一样,为自己的天赋、社会影响和迅速崛起的美貌感到自豪。凯蒂的奇思怪想和幽默感;她对这个人的热情,以及她对那个人的仇恨;她热爱辉煌,对债务漠不关心;她对意见的蔑视和克制,在她和艾什看来,都不过是青春的粗暴成长。当艾什的母亲看到艾什如此英俊、和蔼可亲、忠诚、在世界上的地位和威望、他的高智商和他的个人魅力时,她一定会想到基蒂的聪明才智很快就会向她展示她非凡的好运。 ;虽然他现在在她的脚下,但她很快就会在他的脚下。
三年了!特兰莫尔夫人回望着他们,心情就像风吹过的烟雾一样摇曳。一年的兴奋,一年的疾病,一年的奢侈,而且还受到许多奇怪的脾气和任性的冲击,她可以这样概括它们。首先是在伦敦最有希望的首演。基蒂热情地欢迎所有人,就像阿什的妻子和她自己的儿媳妇一样,她受到了极大的欢迎,在宫廷里微笑着,对乡村别墅感到受宠若惊,总是穿着考究,微笑着,热切地,显然充满了热情。对阿什的野心不亚于对她自己的野心,她是一个快乐、臭名昭著、忙碌的小人物,带着一丝野性,但这种野性却增强了她的魅力,让世界议论纷纷。
然后,男孩的出生,以及基蒂对他出生后几乎立即显现出来的畸形的强烈、难以控制的退缩——一种小儿麻痹症,涉及轻微但无法治愈的跛行。特兰莫尔夫人可以回忆起数周的悔恨抚摸,以及数周的忽视。凯蒂的病情持续恶化,情绪低落,一段时间后,她陷入了任性的忧郁之中,而婴儿的缺陷似乎不足以成为造成这种情绪的原因。艾什温柔的焦虑,他愿意放弃议会、办公室和一切,以便基蒂可以旅行和康复;她和他在家里最好的朋友们付出的巨大努力阻止了他——而基蒂似乎很少或根本不关心他是否牺牲了自己的未来。最后,她自己在凯蒂的一个新朋友的帮助下,成为了凯蒂的护士,在阿什无法幸免的时候把她带到了国外,照顾她,迁就她,最后把她带了回来——所以医生们说——恢复了。
真的康复了吗?无论如何,特兰莫尔夫人常常倾向于认为,自从回到伦敦之后——现在已经过去了大约十二个月——她和威廉都不得不和另一只基蒂打交道。尽管她还很年轻,但生命扩张时最初那种精致的柔软已经消失了。那些比那些最了解她的人所感知到的更困难、更奇怪、更莫名其妙的事情似乎时不时地浮出水面,就像夏日大海中的残骸。
打开的门打乱了这些思考。护士抱着小男孩出现了。特兰莫尔夫人把他抱在膝盖上,爱抚着他。他是一个可怜的、可爱的孩子,一般都很温顺,但有时容易发脾气,与他娇小的脆弱性完全不成比例。他的祖母倾向于将他的激情视为某种外在的、强加的东西——黑水恶魔的进入来折磨一个通常具有神圣而粘人的甜蜜的小生物。她会教他宗教,作为他抵御自己的唯一盾牌;但他的父亲和母亲都不信教。哈利长大后很可能是一个异教徒。
他现在靠在她的胸前,而她,本质上是母性,对这个小小的身体的压力感到高兴,当他们独自一人时,她为他低声吟唱,时不时停下来怜悯并亲吻那只挂着的萎缩的小脚。在另一个旁边。
她被一阵轻柔的入场声和裙子的沙沙声打断了。
“啊,玛格丽特!”她环顾四周,微笑着说道。
进来的女孩走近她,与她握手,低头看着婴儿。她有一头金发,戴着眼镜。她的脸圆圆的,稚气十足,眼睛又圆又蓝,但眼睛周围有一些皱纹,这表明她已经不再是年轻时了。
“我今天来是想看看能否为基蒂做点什么。我知道她很忙于舞会——”
“显然是捂着耳朵,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “每个人都失去了理智。我看到凯蒂已经选好了她的衣服。”
“是的,如果范切特能解决问题的话。可怜的基蒂!她一直处于这样的心态。我想我会继续发出这些邀请。”
玛格丽特·弗伦奇脱下手套和帽子,像一个熟悉这个房间及其事务的人一样走到写字台前,拿起上面的一堆卡片和信封,把它们带到特兰莫尔夫人身边,开始对它们进行研究。
“我昨天做了大约一半,”她解释道。 “但我看到基蒂还没有碰它们,现在真的是它们该出去的时候了。”
“下周参加他们的聚会吗?”
“是的。希望小猫不要太累了。最近实在是太忙了。”
“她休息过吗?”
“据我所知,从来没有。而且我担心她已经非常担心了。”
“关于和斯蒂芬王子那段愚蠢的恋情?”特兰莫尔夫人说。
玛格丽特·弗伦奇点点头。 “她发誓,她没有恶意,也没有造成伤害,这一切都是恶意和夸张的。但可以看出她受到了伤害。”
“好吧,如果你问我,”特兰莫尔夫人低声说道,“我认为她活该。”
他们的目光相遇,女孩脸上充满了半微笑、半柔和的关怀。另一方面,特兰莫尔夫人骄傲地涨红了脸,仿佛只要提到她提到的事情就让她感到恼火。事实上,基蒂刚刚犯下了一件让镇上议论纷纷的越轨行为,甚至还上了报纸。这位欧洲君主国的继承人最近访问了伦敦。他周围充满了浪漫的情趣。因为一位女士的地位不够高,无法与他相配,最近因为爱他而投河自尽,而这个年轻人忧郁的英俊外表,加上他的举止令人惊叹的冷漠,在他身后引起了一系列的流言蜚语。基蒂没能在社交场合见到他;她曾经渴望的某些邀请却没有到达;她一气之下宣布,她将以自己的方式结识他。有一次,太子党在看戏时,他的注意力被他对面包厢里的一个小而耀眼的生物所吸引。然而此时,包厢内却传来一阵骚动。那个令人眼花缭乱的生物已经晕倒了;基蒂·阿什女士的名字也随之流传开来。王子派了一名侍从前去询问,当晚又在希尔街重复询问。康复很快,王子表示他希望见到这位女士。凯蒂收到来自高层的邀请。她表现出一种令人着迷的粗心,这位忧郁的年轻人很快就在她身上花费了比他所知的在任何其他向他介绍的英国美女上花费的更多的痛苦。艾什和基蒂的朋友们笑了。掌管太子党的老将军大惊失色。不幸的是,不久之后,基蒂的大胆行为就失去了她的判断力。此外,她还开始吹嘘自己的诡计。窃窃私语悄然蔓延;将军的耳朵是敞开的。几天之内,基蒂的胜利就成为世间一切事情的标志。在一次宫廷舞会上,她的虚荣心毫无征兆地期待着一场舞会,王子目光呆滞地从她身边走过,对她微笑着礼貌地回以最简单的鞠躬。她没有背叛任何事情;但不知怎的,这件事传了出去,引发了一场完美的谈话飓风。据传,老首相帕勒姆勋爵亲自对基蒂夫人说了一句尖酸刻薄的话,王室成员很恼火,威廉·阿什也曾认真地责骂过他的妻子。
特兰莫尔夫人很清楚,无论如何,上次的报告并不真实。但她也知道,伦敦的谈话中有一种尖锐的语气,这对于基蒂来说是新鲜的。就好像某种放纵正在消失,曾经的娱乐变成了批评。
她和玛格丽特·弗伦奇讨论了这个问题, voc声玛格丽特继续发出邀请,特兰莫尔夫人则用法国玩具跳舞和旋转来逗宝贝开心。他们的语气是一种亲密而友好的亲密关系,这种亲密关系显然基于一个共同的兴趣——他们与基蒂的关系。玛格丽特·弗伦奇就是这样的人之一,为了拯救我们,我们这个停滞不前、匆忙的世界总体上仍然是丰富的。她三十五岁,未婚,而且很穷。她和她的哥哥住在一起,她的哥哥是一位苦苦挣扎的医生,在基蒂结婚后的头几个月,她在一些时髦的士兵援助委员会遇到了基蒂,玛格丽特在那里完成了工作,基蒂和其他伟大的女士一起获得了名声。 。基蒂对她产生了好感,而且很快就离不开她了。但是玛格丽特,尽管很快就发现她已经把基蒂和孩子——就此而言,也包括了阿什——深深地留在了她慷慨的心中,但她在友谊中保留了一种迷人的程度。无论是在社会上还是在经济上,她都不欠基蒂任何东西。当凯蒂的聪明朋友出现时,她就消失了。在她自己的世界里,没有人听她提起过基蒂·阿什女士的名字,很大程度上是因为这个名字开始出现在当时的八卦中。但是,关于希尔街家族的事情几乎没有什么是特兰莫尔夫人不能安全而正确地与她讨论的。甚至阿什本人也向她寻求建议。
“恐怕帕勒姆一家的情况比以往任何时候都更糟,”特兰莫尔夫人很快说道。
玛格丽特焦急地摇摇头。
“我希望基蒂下周不要扔掉他们的晚餐。”
“她正在谈论这个!”
“昨天她几乎已经下定决心了,”玛格丽特不情愿地说。 “也许你会说服她。但她对帕勒姆勋爵以及 P 夫人非常生气。”
“在她和帕勒姆夫人之间的那些老废话之后,这将是一次和解晚宴,”特兰莫尔夫人叹了口气。 “这完全是为基蒂计划的。她要和大使馆里那个年轻的德拉里维埃尔一起表演一些东西,不是吗?我相信公主会来——特意来见她。我从四面八方都听说过这件事。她 不能 扔过去!”
玛格丽特耸耸肩。 “我相信她会的。”
老太太的脸上顿时浮现出一抹愤怒之色。
“威廉必须真正坚定自己的立场,”她低声而坚决地说。 “当然,最重要的是——现在——”
她没有再说什么,但玛格丽特·弗兰奇抬起头来,他们交换了一个眼神。
“我们希望,”玛格丽特说,“阿什先生能够安抚她。啊,她在那儿。”
因为前门重重地关上了,立刻整个房子从头到脚都传来一阵议论声和裙子的飘动声。基蒂跑上楼梯,走进客厅,显然还在跟她身后的男仆说话,看到特兰莫尔夫人和玛格丽特就停了下来。一道阴影瞬间掠过她的脸庞。然后她满面笑容地走上前来。
“为什么,他们从来没有在楼下告诉过我!”她一边说,一边爱抚地握住两人的手,然后坐到他们中间的座位上。 “我已经失去你很多了吗?”
“好吧,我得赶紧走了,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “哈利一直在逗我开心。”
哦,哈利;他在那儿吗?”基蒂用另一种声音说道,她看到孩子坐在祖母裙子后面,坐在地板上,特兰莫尔夫人刚刚把他放在那里。
婴儿转向他美丽的母亲,当他看到她时,一丝飘忽不定的微笑开始从他不确定的嘴唇蔓延到他深棕色的眼睛,直到他的整张脸闪闪发光,像磁铁一样紧贴着她的脸,一动不动。魅力。
“来!”凯蒂伸出双手说道。
孩子费力地把自己拉向她,沿着地板侧向移动,拖着无助的脚跟在他身后。阴影再次掠过基蒂的脸。她抓住他,吻了他,然后去按门铃。
“要我带他上楼吗?”玛格丽特说。
“怎么,他好像才刚下来啊!”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “他必须走吗?”
“他之后可以再下来,”基蒂说。 “我想跟你说话。带着他吧,玛格丽特。”
婴儿没有呜咽,眼睛仍然追随着母亲。
“他看起来相当虚弱,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “我希望你很快就能送他去乡下,基蒂。”
“他很好,”基蒂说。然后她摘下帽子,看着玛格丽特写的请柬。
“天啊,我竟然把他们全忘了!玛格丽特真是一位天使啊!这些事情我实在记不清了。他们应该按时工作。现在范切特和这个球足以让人疯狂。”
她举起双手捂住脸,把散落在脸上的金色头发按到脑后,一副疲倦的样子。
“范切特可以为你做裙子吗?”
“她说她会的,但我无法让她明白我想要的任何东西。她疯了!他们都是。顺便说一句,你听说过玛德琳·阿尔科特的吗?给沃斯发电报?”
“没有。”
基蒂笑了——笑声富有音乐感,但充满恶意。阿尔科特夫人与她同月结婚,从一开始就是她的伴侣和竞争对手。他们互相称呼对方为“基蒂”和“玛德琳”,并且经常见面。为什么,特兰莫尔夫人永远无法发现,除非原则上最好是让你的敌人处于监视之下。
“邀请函一到,她就给沃斯发电报,‘维纳斯特使’。回复。晚餐时得到了答案——她举办了一场晚宴——她大声朗读:“回忆录”。 Il n'y en a pas.'是不是很令人愉快?”
“非常整洁,”特兰莫尔夫人微笑着说。 “你什么时候发明的?我听说你会成为戴安娜?”
凯蒂做了一个绝望的手势。
“问问范切特——这取决于她。除了她之外,伦敦没有人能做到这一点。哦,顺便问一下,玛丽会是什么样子?我想是某种麦当娜。”
“一点也不,”特兰莫尔夫人干巴巴地说。 “她选择了我为她找到的约书亚爵士服装。”
“错过了一次职业,”基蒂摇着头说道。 “她至少应该是‘维斯塔贞女’……”你知道你看起来 这样 今天下午一只鸭子!”说话的人伸出两只小手,拉了拍特兰莫尔夫人帽子上的黑色蕾丝带,帽子系在她那精致、皱巴巴的白色下巴下面。
“这顶帽子太适合你了——你真是个 贵妇人 在里面。啊!我爱你!”
基蒂轻轻地用手捧住了她的下巴,在特兰莫尔夫人的脸颊上落下了一个吻,她的脸颊在突然的爱抚下微微泛红。
“别像鹅一样,基蒂。”但伊丽莎白·特兰莫尔仍然向前倾身,热情地回吻。 “现在告诉我你去帕勒姆百货要穿什么。”
基蒂故意站起来,走到门铃前按响了门铃。
“现在应该是喝茶的时间了。”
“你还没有回答我的问题,基蒂。”
“我没有吗?”管家进来了。 “威尔逊,请马上喝茶。”
“猫咪!-”
凯蒂女士挑衅地坐在离婆婆不远的地方,双手交叉放在腿上。
“我不会去帕勒姆家。”
“基蒂!——你什么意思?”
“我不会去帕勒姆家,”基蒂慢慢地重复道。 “如果他们想让我为他们逗乐他们的客人,他们应该对我表现得更体贴一点。”
这时,玛格丽特·弗伦奇重新走进了房间。特兰莫尔夫人转向她,做出了一个痛苦的手势。
“哦,玛格丽特知道,”基蒂说。 “我昨天就告诉她了。”
“帕勒姆一家?”玛格丽特说。
基蒂点点头。玛格丽特停了下来,她的手放在特兰莫尔夫人的椅背上,一阵短暂的沉默。然后特兰莫尔夫人开始说话,语气尽量不那么严肃:
“我不知道你要如何摆脱困境,亲爱的。帕勒姆夫人向公主提出请求,首先是因为她想来,其次是想向您伸出橄榄枝。她为这顿晚餐煞费苦心。之后会有一个晚会来听你的演讲,规模合适,人员也合适。”
“Cela m'est égal,”基蒂说,“par-faite-ment égal!我不打算。”
“你能发明什么借口?”
“我要感冒了,可以想象到的最严重的感冒。距离穿衣时间还有两小时,我就上床睡觉了。我的信是在八点敲响时送达帕勒姆夫人的。”
“基蒂,你会做一件完全闻所未闻的事情——最粗鲁——最不友善!”
那僵硬、瘦弱的身影,就像一根拉紧的魔杖,在老妇人的严重愤慨面前没有一刻动摇。
“我应该第一次还清拖了太久的分数。”
“你和帕勒姆夫人已经同意交朋友了,过去的就让它过去吧。”
“那是上周之前的事了。”
“在帕勒姆勋爵说之前——什么让你恼火?”
基蒂的眼睛冒出火来。
“在帕勒姆勋爵公开羞辱我之前——或者试图羞辱我。”
“亲爱的基蒂,他很生气,说了一句尖刻的话;但他是个老人了,看在威廉的份上,你当然可以原谅。帕勒姆夫人与这件事无关。”
“她没有写信给我道歉,”基蒂平静地说。 “别说这个了,妈妈。这会伤害你,我已经下定决心了。自从我结婚以来,帕勒姆夫人一直居高临下或冷落我——当时她并没有让我最好的朋友反对我。她是假的,假的, false!”凯蒂双手合十,做了一个强调的动作。 “帕勒姆勋爵上周对我说了一件我永远不会原谅的事情。瞧!现在我的意思是结束它了!”
“而你选择完全忘记帕勒姆勋爵是威廉的政治领袖——威廉的事务正处于关键状态,一切都取决于帕勒姆勋爵——威廉的妻子公开轻视帕勒姆夫人是不合适的,也不可能的,而且通过她成为首相——在这一刻。”
特兰莫尔夫人呼吸急促。
“威廉不会指望我会忍受侮辱,”基蒂说道,她也开始表现出情绪。
“但是你难道看不出来吗——尤其是现在——你什么都不应该想——没什么——但是威廉的未来和威廉的职业生涯呢?”
“威廉永远不会以牺牲我的利益来换取他的事业。”
“基蒂,亲爱的,听着,”特兰莫尔夫人绝望地喊道,她投入到争论和呼吁中,基蒂听了大约二十分钟,毫无动静。玛格丽特·弗伦奇感到自己是一个不舒服的第三者,多次试图偷偷溜走。徒然。凯蒂用专横的手拉住了她。尽管她很希望如此,但她却无法逃脱两个女人之间的角力——一方面是母亲,高贵,已经年事已高,充满了尊严和抗议的感情;另一方面,母亲是高贵的,她已经受到了岁月的影响,充满了尊严和抗议的感情;而另一方面,母亲是高贵的,她已经受到了岁月的影响,充满了尊严和抗议的感情;另一边的妻子,年纪还小,纤细的身躯充满了激情和傲慢,她比平常更加美丽,因为她身上充满了火焰——一个陷入困境的女妖。
特兰莫尔夫人刚刚在最后的绝望中开始动摇,门就打开了,威廉·阿什走了进来。
他惊讶地看着他的母亲和妻子。然后他突然明白了,不由自主地做出了疲倦的姿势,转身要走。
“威廉!”他的母亲急忙追赶着他,喊道:“别走。凯蒂和我在争论;但这没什么,亲爱的!别走,你看起来很累。可以留下来吃晚饭吗?”
“嗯,这就是我的意图,”艾什微笑着说道,然后让自己被带了回来。 “但基蒂似乎在云端。”
因为基蒂没有移动一英寸来迎接他。她坐在高背椅上,一只脚交叉在另一只脚上,一只手撑着脸颊,眼睛直视着前方。
特兰莫尔夫人将一只手放在她的肩膀上。
“我们现在不再谈论这件事了,基蒂,好吗?”
凯蒂紧闭的嘴唇张开,说出了这句话:
“也许威廉最好明白——”
“天啊!”艾什叫道。 “是帕勒姆家族吗?凯蒂,如果你愿意的话,把它们寄给一万个 diables!你不去参加他们的晚餐吗?好吧,别走!取悦你自己——并节省开支!来给我吃晚饭吧——有一个亲爱的。”
他弯下腰亲吻她的头发。
特兰莫尔夫人开始讲话。然后,我费了很大的力气才克制住自己,开始寻找她的阳伞。凯蒂没有动。特兰莫尔夫人低声说了声再见就走了。而这一次,玛格丽特·弗伦奇坚持要和她一起去。
当阿什回到客厅时,他发现妻子仍保持着同样的姿势,脸色苍白,非常狂野。
“我已经告诉你的母亲,威廉,我打算对帕勒姆一家做些什么。”
“很好,亲爱的。现在她知道了。”
“她说这会毁掉你的职业生涯。”
“是吗?我们很快就会讨论这个问题。我们在众议院与爱尔兰人发生了一场令人厌恶的场面,我饿极了。去换衣服吧,有亲爱的。晚饭刚送上来。”
凯蒂不情愿地走了。她下来时穿着一件飘逸的白色衣服,头发上戴着一个绿色的小花环,再加上仍然包裹着她的暴风雨的空气,使她比以往任何时候都更像女巫。艾什没有在意,笑着给她讲述了房子里发生的事情,然后吃了晚饭。
后来,当他们只剩下他们时,他正要回屋,她飞快地冲过餐厅,用双手抓住了他的外套。
“威廉,我不能去参加那个晚宴——那会杀了我的!”
“你又重复了一遍,亲爱的!”他微笑着说道。 “我想你会给帕勒姆夫人适当的通知。你会做什么?拿个医生证明就走?”
凯蒂气喘吁吁。 “一点也不。直到一个小时前我才会告诉她。”
艾希吹了声口哨。
“战争?我懂了。开战。很好。然后我们就去威尼斯过复活节。”
基蒂向后倒去。
“你什么意思?”
“很简单,不是吗?但这有什么关系呢?威尼斯会很令人愉快,而且有很多好人可以接替我的位置。”
“帕勒姆大人会放过你吗?”
“一点也不。但我不能在公共场合与一个我必须私下切割的人一起工作。这不会让我觉得好笑。所以,如果你决定了,基蒂,就写信给达涅利酒店要房间。”
他点燃了香烟,带着一种完美的若无其事和好脾气走了出去。
基蒂本来要去参加一个舞会。她取消了女仆的准备,让女仆上床睡觉。到了时间,所有仆人都上床睡觉了,前门像往常一样关着门闩,等待艾什迟到。午夜时分,一个小身影溜进了孩子的育婴室。护士已经睡得很熟了。基蒂一动不动地在孩子旁边坐了一个小时,大约两点钟左右,当艾什走进屋子时,他听到大厅里有轻微的沙沙声,基蒂站在那里等他。
“凯蒂,你在做什么?”他假装惊讶地说。但实际上他一点也不惊讶。过去几个月,他的生活充满了奢侈和混乱。他几乎确信自己会在大厅里找到基蒂。
他带着极大的温柔,一半牵着一半抱着她上了楼。她热情地依偎着他,就像晚饭前她拒绝他一样。当他们到达自己的房间时,疲惫不堪的男人在一场议会角力之后睡着了,在这场角力中,所有的能力都被消耗到了极限,他把他的妻子抱在怀里。基蒂在那里抽泣着,说服自己在完全精疲力尽的情况下平静下来。在这种状态下,她是人类中最精致的人之一,言语、语气和手势都充满了天堂般的柔软和慵懒。邪灵从她身上消失了,她充满了空灵的温柔、悲伤和悔恨。两年多来,这样的场景,对于艾什来说,已经融入了最终的喜悦和陶醉,完全抹去了之前发生的事情的记忆。几个月来,他一直害怕危机问题,就像害怕危机本身一样。这让他感到不安,仿佛某种病态的热风从他身上掠过。
当基蒂终于睡着时,艾什在更衣室的窗边站了一会儿,心不在焉地看着阴沉的夜色,累得连脱衣服的力气都没有。一阵西北风刮过街道,吹打着窗户。这种不安并没有增加他身心的紧张。和特兰莫尔夫人一样,他可以说是从自己的生活中退了一步,从整体上审视自己的生活——尤其是最后三年。那些年的最终结果是什么?他在哪儿?他和凯蒂要去哪里?一种奇怪的剧痛传遍全身。仅仅问这个问题就如同普赛克的灯被举起一样。
那天晚上下议院的场景对他来说是一个冲突的场景;主要也是胜利。他的男子气概、能力和野心都达到了顶峰。他感受到了英国政治生活的全部魔力,以及其中所有的艰苦奋斗的乐趣,从它所涉及的广泛利益中流露出的兴奋,以及它对像他这样的人所产生的复杂的吸引力,一百种继承下来的才能、品味和传统。
他站在黑暗中,想知道自己一生中最美好的时光是否还没有结束——他的预感就像外面的狂风一样强烈而飘忽不定。
夜里的鸟儿!他强迫自己上床睡觉,睡得很沉。当他醒来的时候,五月的阳光已经照进了他的房间。基蒂穿着最新鲜的晨礼服,像一只栖息的小鸟一样坐在他的床上,不耐烦地等待着他睁开眼睛,然后她就可以向他询问对她参加舞会的着装的意见。生活的滋味和欢乐如潮水般涌向他。基蒂是见过的最漂亮的东西。前一天晚上,他击败了那些保守党人。帕勒姆一家的晚餐还不错。生活再次变得友善、易于管理,并且充满了最令人愉快的可能性。仅仅回想起前一天晚上的事,他心里就有一种慵懒的不耐烦感。忧虑结束了;为什么又想起来了?
与此同时,特兰莫尔夫人已经到家了,在她丈夫的房间里度过了一段可怜的时光,这为她的日常生活奠定了秘密和神圣的基础,她期待着玛丽·莱斯特,她将在两位女士出现在特兰莫尔宫之前在特兰莫尔宫吃饭。法国大使夫人举办的音乐派对。在她的客人到来之前,特兰莫尔夫人在她的房间里徘徊,无法休息,甚至无法阅读有关艾什演讲的晚报,她仍然沉浸在与基蒂的争吵以及对其中含义的不祥预感中。威廉的未来受到威胁;多年来,这位母亲全心全意地投入到儿子的每一次成功努力和每一次向上的进步中,她感到非常激动。
玛丽·莱斯特准时赶到。她走进来,是一位身材高挑、飘逸的女人,她的头发在脸的两侧呈波纹状垂落,其美丽和平静让意大利特兰莫尔夫人想起了她在早期锡耶纳或佛罗伦萨艺术中熟悉的许多面孔。玛丽今晚穿的裙子是高贵的红色,她那闪亮的棕色头发与她的裙子和脖子的白色相得益彰,满足了她同伴挑剔的眼光。 “波莉”现在已经三十岁了,正值美丽的黄金时期。特兰莫尔夫人对她的感情,一度甚至包括她可能成为威廉·阿什的妻子的想法,但这丝毫不影响人们对她的局限性的精明理解。但她自己却没有女儿。她的家庭感情很强烈;与玛丽交往是一种古老而愉快的习惯,人们很难放弃。此外,在她的陪伴下,玛丽处于最佳状态。
伊丽莎白·特兰莫尔从未与她的表弟谈论过她的儿媳妇。对威廉的忠诚禁止这样做,就像强烈的家庭尊严感一样。因为玛丽曾说过一次话——订婚后立即——充满活力——不,充满激情;预言祸患和灾难。从那时起,他们就默契地认为,对凯蒂及其行为方式的一切彻底批评都是禁忌。事实上,玛丽和她表弟的妻子关系显然很好。她偶尔在灰烬餐厅吃饭,她和基蒂经常在特兰莫尔夫人的庇护下见面。他们之间并不存在友好关系,基蒂常常尖锐或阴沉地确信玛丽将被视为那些敌对势力之一,在她的某些情绪下,世界似乎为之勃然大怒。但事实上,如果玛丽在凯蒂这个话题上对她的许多密友保持着非常尖刻的态度,那么特兰莫尔夫人至少决心对此一无所知。
然而,在这个特殊的夜晚,特兰莫尔夫人三年来第一次失去了自制力。她和客人交谈不到五分钟,就发现玛丽的脑子里实际上充满了八卦——许多客厅的八卦——关于基蒂与王子的越轨行为,基蒂与帕瑟姆夫人的关系,基蒂的聚会,以及基蒂的奇思妙想。诱惑太大了;她自己的戒心崩溃了。
“我听说基蒂对帕勒姆夫妇很生气,”玛丽说,当时两位女士在快速吃完晚餐后坐在一起。那是一个雨夜,他们生起的火很受欢迎。
特兰莫尔夫人悲伤地摇摇头。
“我不知道它会在哪里结束,”她慢慢地说。
“帕勒姆夫人昨天告诉我了——你不介意我重复一遍吗?”——玛丽微笑着抬起头来——“她仍然非常害怕基蒂下周五会跟她玩什么把戏。她知道凯蒂讨厌她。”
“哦,不,”特兰莫尔夫人用含糊的声音说道,“基蒂不能——不可能!”
玛丽仔细观察了同伴神情清醒、不安的神情,得出的结论与事实相差不远。
“而且这一切都很尴尬,不是吗?”她同情地说,“显然帕勒姆夫人和他一样是首相。”
因为在那些日子里,某些大家族和政治贵妇,虽然还没有达到权力的顶峰,但相对衰落来说,仍然是非常值得重视的。当帕勒姆夫人与法国大使交谈的时间比平时更长时,他的奥地利和德国同事给各自的政府写了焦急的信件;当必须安排前往东方的一项非常重要的特别任务时,没有人想到帕勒姆勋爵与专员的任命有很大关系,而专员恰好刚刚与帕勒姆夫人的第二个女儿订婚。政府方面的年轻成员,如果他想获得职位,就不会忽视帕勒姆夫人的邀请,而参加她更亲密的晚宴仍然几乎和上一代或更早的泽西夫人的情况一样令人垂涎,在荷兰夫人那里。她是个身材矮小的老妇人,脸色泼辣,肤色蜡黄,戴着棕色假发。尽管她视力很短,但她却看到了大多数人看不到的东西。她的舌头很少不知所措。总的来说,她是一位好朋友,尽管她从来都不是一个不反思的人。她所原谅的事情可以被认为不值得怨恨。
伊丽莎白·特兰莫尔勉强同意了玛丽的说法。从英国贵族的角度来看,帕勒姆夫人出身并不出名。她是一位时尚音乐大师的女儿,他的血统肯定不是基督徒。除了特兰莫尔夫人之外,还有很多人对她的统治感到不满。
“到了发明某种借口来搁置威廉的主张的时候,这将是非常容易的,”阿什的母亲叹息道。 “谁都不是不可或缺的,那个老太婆若是被激怒了,她就会做出什么坏事来。”
“你想要威廉什么?”玛丽微笑着说道。
“他当然应该拥有内政部!”特兰莫尔夫人用火回答道。
玛丽发誓他一定会得到它。 “凯蒂很聪明,在事情变得太过分之前,她会明白谨慎的重要性。”
特兰莫尔夫人没有回答。她凝视着火,莱斯特小姐认为她很沮丧。
“威廉有没有干涉过?”她小心翼翼地问道。
特兰莫尔夫人犹豫了。
“据我所知,没有,”她最后说道。 “他也永远不会——从任何普通丈夫都会干涉的意义上来说。”
“我知道!就好像他对此有一种迷信一样。不是有一个童话故事吗,一个精灵嫁给了一个凡人,条件是如果他虐待她,她的人民就会把她带回仙境?有一天,丈夫发脾气,说话很粗暴。立刻,一声雷响,精灵妻子就消失了。”
“我不记得这个故事了。但确实是这样的。他有一次对我说,如果他不能下定决心让她为所欲为,永远不会强迫她,他就永远不会向她求婚。”
但话虽如此,特兰莫尔夫人却后悔了。在她看来,她似乎背叛了威廉的事情。她把椅子从火边拉开,按铃询问马车是否已经到了。玛丽明白了这个暗示。她穿上斗篷,愉快地聊着其他事情,直到他们离开的时刻到来。
当他们开车穿过街道时,特兰莫尔夫人偷偷看了她的同伴一眼。
“她真的很漂亮,”她想——“比二十岁时好看多了。”男人们为什么不娶她呢?”
这确实是一个谜题。随着岁月的流逝,玛丽变得越来越讨人喜欢,现在她在伦敦拥有了自己的地位,作为一个迷人的女人,没有棱角,也没有明显的自私心。除此之外,任何晚宴聚会都可能会很高兴见到他。她的亲戚,无论远近,在英国公共生活中占据着如此多的有利地位,因此她的话不可避免地具有分量。她谈论政治,就像她这个阶级的女性必须说服她们才能保持自己的地位一样。她支持教会;她非常慈善,从流行的意义上来说,这意味着你可以捐款给朋友的慈善机构,而不需要建立自己的慈善机构。她也很富有——已经拥有从母亲那里继承的一大笔财产,并且是她父亲老理查德·莱斯特爵士(Richard Lyster)的未来继承人,至少同样多的财产,她还设法完善了父亲在萨默塞特郡的房子。在这个季节,她和各种各样的朋友住在一起,或者和特兰莫尔夫人住在一起,理查德爵士现在体弱多病,更喜欢乡村。据了解,她有一个妹妹,大约五六年前,她违背父亲的意愿,轻率地结婚了。凯瑟琳很穷,是一位牧师的妻子,带着年幼的孩子。特兰莫尔夫人有时想知道玛丽对她是否像她可能的那样好。她本人在这一年里给凯瑟琳送了各种各样的礼物给孩子们。
——是的,玛丽没有结婚确实令人惊讶。特兰莫尔夫人正想着这个问题,突然她的目光被一份晚报的标语吸引住了。
“采访克利夫先生。平安有保障。”其中一条线路就是这样运行的。
“杰弗里·克利夫又回家了!”特兰莫尔夫人的语气里流露出一丝轻蔑的笑意。
“我们将不得不在没有每日电报的情况下继续前进。可怜的伦敦!”
如果在那一刻她想起看她的同伴,她就会看到玛丽的脸颊迅速变红。
“不过,他的电报取得了巨大成功!”莱斯特小姐回答道。 “我本以为人们无法否认这一点。”
“成功!只和无关紧要的人在一起,”特兰莫尔夫人耸耸肩说道。 “杰弗里·克利夫每天早上向英国公众传达他的所作所为和观点,这对任何人来说有什么重要性呢?”
我们正处于与美国的分歧之中。一股旋风袭来,杰弗里·克利夫恰巧乘风破浪。因为那位绅士在格罗斯维尔家的乡间别墅里第一次认识基蒂时所设想的计划并没有成功。他本来想在埃及有个约会;但他并没有得到它,在家里经历了一番愤怒的不安之后,他再次拿起朝圣者的手杖,开始了新的旅行,这次是前往帕米尔高原和西藏。近三年来,他从未停止过通过报纸和期刊向公众展示他的观点和他的个性,他在中国和美国都得到了关注。他到达旧金山时,争端刚刚爆发,立即被一家英国报纸抓获,并被送往纽约,并带着 全权委托。他很快就适应了这种情况。此后大约三周的时间里,英格兰每天早上都会在早餐桌上发现一系列令人惊奇的大字体电报,署名“杰弗里·克利夫”。
“‘总统和我今天早上会面’——‘总统认为,我同意他的观点’——‘我告诉总统’——等等——‘总统今天早上签署并密封了一份令人难忘的信件。后来他对我说‘”——等等。
这些程序似乎产生了两种不同的效果。激进观点的某个部分,喜欢看到事务得到管理 无仪式,不明白当记者需要鼓掌时,世界想要外交官做什么;老派笑道。
据说克利夫马上就要进宫了。执政党的年轻血液享受着美好的前景,并已积蓄了力量。 自我与霸王我 他的信件的详细信息以供将来使用。
“一个人怎么可以做出这样的蠢事!”特兰莫尔夫人继续说道,她声音中的恶意不仅表达了古老的贵族对媒体的厌恶,而且还表达了一个官宦儿子的母亲自然而然的嫉妒。
“好吧,我们拭目以待吧,”玛丽停顿了一下说。 “我不太同意你的观点,伊丽莎白表弟——事实上,我知道有很多人认为他确实做得很好。”
特兰莫尔夫人惊讶地转过身来。她原以为玛丽会理所当然地同意她原来的话。玛丽以前与杰弗里·克利夫的调情,以及随之而来的他们之间长期的裂痕,都是她熟知的事情。而且,他们恰逢她抛弃了这个男人,由于种种原因,她开始认为这个男人是不道德和不安全的。
“好的!”她附和着——”非常好?——带着这样的夸耀,还有 扇子舞曲。波莉!”
但莱斯特小姐坚持自己的立场。
“我们必须允许每个人都有自己的做事方式,不是吗?我很确定他自始至终都是出于好意。”
特兰莫尔夫人耸了耸肩。 “帕勒姆勋爵告诉我,他收到了他写来的最怪诞的信件!——并且打算从今以后把它们扔进火里。”
“帕勒姆勋爵太愚蠢了,”玛丽立即说道。 “我本以为首相会欢迎来自各方的信息。当然,克利夫先生认为政府一直在 非常 服务很糟糕。”
特兰莫尔夫人的惊奇爆发了。 “你的意思是说——你收到了他的来信?”
她转过身,仔细地看着她的同伴。玛丽的脸色仍然涨红,但除此之外她并没有表现出任何尴尬。
“是的,亲爱的伊丽莎白表弟。在过去的六个月里,我经常收到他的来信。我常常想告诉你,但又怕你误会,而且——我的勇气失败了!”说话的人微笑着将手放在特兰莫尔夫人的手上。 “事实是,他去年秋天从日本写信给我。你还记得我在东京去世的那个可怜的表弟吗?克利夫先生见过他一些,后来他非常友善地写信给他的母亲和我。然后-”
“你还没有原谅他!”特兰莫尔夫人喊道。
玛丽笑了。
“有什么值得原谅的吗?我们都曾年轻过,也曾愚昧过。不管怎样,我对他很感兴趣——他的信也很棒。”
“你告诉过威廉你和他有通信吗?”
“不,确实如此!但我非常想让他们更好地了解彼此。为什么政府不应该利用他呢?他根本不想投入对方的怀抱。但他们对他如此恶劣——”
“我亲爱的玛丽!我们是由适当的人统治的吗?”
“无视媒体报道是没有好处的,”玛丽优雅地挺直身子说道。 “主教也非常同意我的观点。”
特兰莫尔夫人坐回座位上。
“你和主教讨论过这件事吗?”自从玛丽上次带着毕肖普家族——她的表弟和特兰莫尔夫人的表弟——来讨论他们之间的争吵以来,已经有一段时间了。但伊丽莎白知道他出现在谈话中总是意味着 既成事实 某种形式。
“我给他读了一些克利夫先生的信,”玛丽谦虚地说。 “他认为它们最了不起。”
“即使他嘲笑传教士?”
“哦!但他不再嘲笑他们了。他已经学会了智慧——我向你保证他已经学会了!”
特兰莫尔夫人的耐心几乎消失了,玛丽的表情充满了对一位亲爱但不合理的亲戚的偏见的纵容。但她设法保存了它。
“你知道他要回家吗?”
“哦是的!”玛丽说。 “我本来想在晚餐时告诉你的。但有件事让我忘记了——当然是基蒂!我不应该怀疑他今晚是否在大使馆。”
“波莉!告诉我——”——特兰莫尔夫人用力握住莱斯特小姐的手——“你要嫁给他吗?
“据我所知,没有,”微笑着回答。 “你不觉得我已经到了可以交男朋友的年龄了吗?”
“你还指望我对他客客气气!”
“好吧,亲爱的伊丽莎白表弟——你知道——你从来没有和他决裂过。”
特兰莫尔夫人感到困惑,她想,每当她和克利夫先生再次见面时,她就一定要完成这个过程。她只能相当生硬地大声说道:
“我不能忘记威廉强烈反对他。”
“哦,不——对不起——我想他不会!”玛丽很快说道。 “有一天,他对我说,他回家后应该很高兴能思考一下。然后他笑着说他是一个“非常聪明的家伙”——请原谅这个形容词——“像那个家伙一样自由”是一件很棒的事情——“没有各种无聊的同事和责任。”这不是像威廉吗?”
特兰莫尔夫人叹了口气。
“威廉不应该说那些话。”
“当然,亲爱的,他只是为了好玩。但我跟你打个小赌,伊丽莎白表姐,基蒂一知道克利夫先生在城里,就会请他吃午饭。”
特兰莫尔夫人转过身去。
“我敢说。没有人能回答凯蒂会做什么。但杰弗里·克利夫曾说过威廉的诽谤性言论。”
“他不会再说了,”玛丽安慰道。 “此外,威廉从不介意受到一点虐待——是吗?”
“他应该介意,”特兰莫尔夫人说,挺起身子。 “在我年轻的时候,我们的敌人是我们的敌人,我们的朋友是我们的朋友。如今看来一切都不重要了。你可能有一天称一个人为无赖,第二天请他吃饭。我们似乎以一种新的意义使用词语——我承认我不喜欢这种改变。好吧,玛丽,我当然不会对你的任何朋友无礼。但别指望我会热情洋溢。请记住,我与杰弗里·克利夫的相识比你的年龄还要大。”
玛丽爱抚地回答道,在接下来的路程中,她全神贯注地抚平特兰莫尔夫人褶皱的羽毛。但这并不容易。当这位女士走上法国大使馆拥挤的楼梯时,她那张漂亮的脸仍然缺席,而且有点严肃。
玛丽只能想,她至少已经完成了第一个必然要做的解释。接下来的几分钟里,她的思绪完全陷入了这个问题:“他会在这里吗?”
法国大使馆的房间里已经挤满了人。一位大使,身材矮小,粗壮,有点忧郁,他的相貌朴素,鼻子很短,从他浓密的金发、大量的胡须和胡须中很难看出——还有一位优雅而微笑的大使夫人,在英国人群中成为巴黎的化身。她每一根纤维都感到自己是一个憔悴的流放者——在接待客人。现场到处都是制服,因为议长正在举办晚宴,王室成员也在期待之中。但是,正如特兰莫尔夫人立即意识到的那样,出席的下议院议员很少。部长们就海军预算的一些细节展开了激烈的辩论,双方的鞭子都专横地控制着自己的军队。
“我既没有看到威廉,也没有看到基蒂,”玛丽仔细观察后说道,事实上,她的目的并不是为了发现灰烬。
“不。我想威廉被留下了,基蒂不想一个人来。”
玛丽什么也没说。但她很清楚,凯蒂从来不会因为丈夫不在而限制她走向社会。与此同时,特兰莫尔夫人陷入了秘密的焦虑之中,担心希尔街可能会发生什么。有没有发生过争吵?肯定出了什么问题,否则基蒂就会在这里。
“凯蒂小姐还没来吗?”她旁边有一个像金刚鹦鹉一样的声音说道。
伊丽莎白转身与帕勒姆夫人握手。这位非凡的女人,到处都受到人群的细心观察,她在衣着、举止和发型上从来没有像这个特别的夜晚那样鲜明地表现过自己——至少在特兰莫尔夫人看来是这样。她丰满的身材穿着新娘的白色缎子长袍,皱纹的脖子在珠宝的重压下消失了,明亮的栗色假发上系着钻石王冠,正面地攻击着观众,如此明显,毫无羞耻。同样无耻的是那双大胆而专横的眼睛,双颊上的胭脂斑点,下巴的力量,嘴巴的紧闭能力。伊丽莎白·特兰莫尔用一种不喜欢的秘密热情看着她。她对英国种族的自豪感,不亚于她的品味和训练的偏见,几乎无法忍受这样一个事实:为了威廉的缘故,她必须让自己讨好帕勒姆夫人。
然而,她试图表现得和蔼可亲。她觉得基蒂下午很累,毫无疑问已经上床睡觉了——她断言是这样。
帕勒姆夫人笑了。
“好吧,下周我聚会的那个晚上她一定不能太累——否则天就要塌下来了。在我的一生中,我从来没有为任何事情如此费心。”
“不,她必须小心,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “可惜,她实力不强,而且做得太过分了。”
帕勒姆夫人锐利地看了她一眼。
“不强?我应该以为凯蒂夫人是用电线做的。好吧,如果她让我失望了,我就去睡觉了——带着天花。没有其他事情可做。公主实际上已经推迟了另一场婚约——她已经听过太多凯蒂女士的朗诵了。但你会帮我渡过难关的,不是吗?”
布满皱纹的脸和粗糙的嘴唇扭曲成一种秘密的微笑。透过它,所有的眼睛,完全独立地,仔细地、怀疑地研究着她旁边的脸,直到这张脸的主人在她的不适中几乎可以大声重复她脑海中响起的话语——“我将 不能 去帕勒姆夫人家吧!我的字条将在八点敲响时到达她手中。”
“当然——我会留意她的!”她轻声说道。 “但是你知道——自从她生病之后——”
“不好了!”帕勒姆夫人不耐烦地说,“她很好——确实很好。我从未见过她如此容光焕发。顺便问一下,那天晚上你听到你儿子的讲话了吗?我在画廊里没有看到你。如果错过了就太可惜了。真是令人钦佩。”
特兰莫尔夫人遗憾地回答说,她当时不在场,而且从那以后她就再也没有能够与他谈论这件事。
“哦,他知道他做得很好,”帕勒姆夫人漫不经心地说。 “他们都这么做。帕勒姆勋爵很高兴。他无能为力,只能在晚餐时谈论这件事。他说他们的处境非常紧张,阿什先生把他们救了出来。”
特兰莫尔夫人用她能控制的所有尊严表达了她的满足,同时意识到她的同伴没有在听一个字,她正通过一副金边眼镜像鹰一样全神贯注地审视着房间。
突然,眼镜哗啦一声掉了下来。
“我的妈呀!”帕勒姆夫人喊道。 “你看到谁在和洛兰先生说话吗?”
特兰莫尔夫人一看,立刻发现杰弗里·克利夫正在与反对派领袖密切交谈。旁边的女士发出一声愤怒的笑声。
“如果克利夫先生认为他这些可笑的电报对自己有任何好处,他就会发现自己错了!人们对他们非常愤怒。”
“当然,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “只是可惜把他当真了。”
“哦,我不知道。他有他的追随者;不幸的是,我们自己的一些人倾向于认为帕勒姆应该安抚他。别理他,我说。表现得好像他不存在一样。啊!顺便说一句,”说话的人踮起脚尖,用大胆的声音说道,“他真的可能会娶你的表弟莱斯特小姐吗?”
特兰莫尔夫人保持着微笑的镇静。 “帕勒姆勋爵真的可能会给他预约吗?”
帕勒姆夫人恼怒地转过身去。 “这就是其中一项发明吗?”
“有很多,”特兰莫尔夫人说。
然而,就在那一刻,令她无比欣慰的是,她的同伴突然抛弃了她。她可以自由地观察远处谈话中的两个人影——杰弗里·克利夫和洛兰先生,洛兰先生现在已经年近古稀,头发花白,满脸皱纹,但他的每一个容貌和每一个动作仍然散发着几乎没有减弱的活力。壮丽的盛世。他低着头站着,聚精会神地听着,但正如特兰莫尔夫人冷冷地想的那样,他听着克利夫向他倾诉的论点。有一次,他猛地抬起头来,一只以威严或热情斥责的力量着称的眼睛里闪过一丝光芒。然而克利夫没有在意,继续说话,洛兰仍在听。
“看他们!”帕勒姆夫人在她的一位密友耳边恶毒地说。 “我们明天将在众议院讨论所有这些问题。反对派打算充分利用这个人的价值。洛兰先生也是——他的清教徒作风!我知道他对克里夫的看法。他不会 触摸 私下里的他。但在公共场合——你会看到——他会把他整个吞掉——只是为了惹恼帕勒姆。这就是你们的政客。”
帕勒姆夫人对“内派”的愤怒美德感到僵硬,谴责“外派”派系,然后继续前行。
与此同时,伊丽莎白·特兰莫尔转身寻找玛丽·莱斯特。她发现她紧随其后,正在进行一场敷衍的谈话,这显然让她可以自由地关注更令人兴奋的事情。她也在注视着。不久,特兰莫尔夫人似乎与克利夫的目光相遇了。克利夫停了下来;他突然失去了与洛兰先生谈话的线索,开始穿过拥挤的房间。特兰莫尔夫人饶有兴趣地注视着他的进展。显然,这是公众眼中和口中一个人的进步。这些房间里围绕着他的气氛是更敌对还是更有利,特兰莫尔夫人不太确定。当然,女人们对他微笑。他那张奇怪的脸,更瘦,更棕色,比以往任何时候都更饱经风霜,饱经沧桑,在灰白的头发顶下,有着古老的傲慢和风景如画的力量,但是,在她看来,加上了一些东西——一些更微妙的东西,是不是比以前更浪漫了?这吸引了观众。他真的爱上了那个法国女人吗?特兰莫尔夫人听到有传言说她已经死了。
伊丽莎白很快发现,他的移动主要不是朝着玛丽·莱斯特。这是对着她自己的。她做好了迎接这次邂逅的准备。
问候很快就结束了。在她自己说了适当的话之后,特兰莫尔夫人有时间注意到接下来轮到的玛丽·莱斯特并没有试图说这些话。事实上,她看起来异常英俊、活泼。特兰莫尔夫人确信克利夫在第一眼看到她时也注意到了这一点。但她省略的言论表明,他们对彼此的行动了解得多么细致和最新。克利夫本人给人的第一印象是精神抖擞。他宣称伦敦比他所知道的更令人愉快,而且在他离开三年后,没有人看起来老了一天。然后他询问了艾希的情况。
特兰莫尔夫人回答说,威廉身体很好,但工作很努力。她希望说服他在圣灵降临节到国外待几天。她的态度很平静,没有一丝失礼或流露出的情绪。克利夫开始扭动他的小胡子,这是她很熟悉的标志。这意味着他确实既烦躁又紧张。
“你认为它们会持续到圣灵降临节吗?”
“政府?”她微笑着说道。 “当然——甚至不止。”
“我给他们三个星期的时间,”克利夫说,她又扭动着身子,充满活力,这让她对饱受折磨的小胡子产生了积极的身体同情。 “明天将会有一些报纸发表,这将是一个重磅炸弹。”
“关于美国?哦,他们经常被炸毁!例如,你几个月来一直在尽力而为。”
他敷衍的笑声回应着她迷人眸子的嘲讽。
“嗯——我希望我能让威廉听听道理。”
特兰莫尔夫人僵硬地保持着自己的姿势。在她看来,这个教名是一种冒犯。确实,过去他和克里夫就曾有过这样的约定。现在——这是一种糟糕的品味。
“也许对你来说合理的东西对他来说却是愚蠢的,”她干巴巴地说。
“不,不!——他 知道”克利夫不耐烦地说。 “其他人则不然。帕勒姆更不可能——更粗鲁、更无知!”他举起双手和眼睛表示抗议。 “但当然,艾什完全是另一回事。”
“好吧,去看看他——去和他谈谈!”特兰莫尔夫人说道,仍然在嘲笑。 “路上没有狮子。”
“没有,”克利夫说。 “事实上,凯蒂女士邀请我共进午餐。但人们会在中午发现艾什本人吗?”
一提到儿媳妇,伊丽莎白就不由自主地动了动。玛丽站在她旁边,转身对她微笑。
“不经常。”语气冰冷。 “但你总能在众议院找到他。”特兰莫尔夫人搬走了。
“有安静的角落吗?”克利夫对玛丽说。 “我有一大堆话要告诉你。”
因此,当主客厅里有一位波兰绅士时,他的名字以 滑雪向他的小提琴发起了不可能的挑战,克利夫和玛丽退出观察,进入一间与套房其他部分敞开的小房间,这实际上是大使夫人的起居室。
当他们发现只剩下自己时,他们的谈话就暂停了。两人都不由自主地看了对方一眼。玛丽当然认识到,这些年的缺席给她面前的男人带来了明显的变化。他已经老了。艰苦的生活和艰苦的旅行留下了痕迹。但是,和特兰莫尔夫人一样,她也察觉到了另一个差异。那双注视着她的眼睛确实和以前一样,是一个以自我为中心、只顾自己的男人的眼睛。他们身上没有侠义的温柔,没有体贴。拥有它们的人完全将它们用于自己的目的;他们没有背叛与他们范围内的人类(任何人类)不断变化的本能关系,这使得许多面孔具有魅力。但他们更加悲伤、更加忧郁、更加不安。它们让她激动不已,比她年轻时的那一次更让她激动。
他要说什么?从他从日本给她写第一封信的那一刻起,玛丽就完全明白他心里有一些新的目标。然而,她并不急于促成解释的时刻。她不再是那个年轻女孩,她的平衡仅仅因为她感兴趣的男人的接近而被打破。而且,她和克利夫之间也有过往,回忆起这段往事或许确实会让她警惕。毕竟,他现在想娶她吗——因为她很富有,而他相对贫穷,只能以牺牲一个富裕的妻子为代价来获得英国的职业生涯?好吧,所有这些都应该考虑一下;她自己不亚于他。与此同时,她的虚荣心在她心里燃烧起来,因为她就这样把他单独留在那里,让其他比她更美丽、地位更高的女人感到沮丧。当她想起他在家里书桌上的信时;以及她想象中他告诉她的秘密。然后,她再次感到一阵突如其来的不安,这是由这个新的方面引起的——摇摆不定且遥远——仿佛某种隐藏的悲伤出现并消失了。他有一种几乎不睡觉的人的憔悴神情。她所听说的关于法国事件的所有事情都在她的脑海中闪过,激起了她愤怒的好奇心。
然而,这些印象只持续了几分钟,同时他们交换了一些惯例。然后克利夫说道,他专注地审视着他身边的面孔和身材,这对他来说更多的是被视为恭维而不是冒犯:
“你能原谅我的言论吗?没有哪个女人能像英国女人那样保持最初的新鲜感。”
“谢谢。如果我们感觉新鲜,我想我们会看看。至于你,显然是想休息一下。”
“那就没时间想了;我回家是为了战斗——据我所知;让自己变得尽可能可憎。”
玛丽笑了。
“你这么做已经很久了。为什么不尝试相反的做法呢?”
克利夫目光锐利地看着她。
“你认为我失败了?”
“一点也不。你让每个人都感到非常不舒服,你看,甚至激进派报纸对你也是多么客气。”
“是的。真是一群傻瓜!克利夫简短地说。 “他们很快就会放弃这一点。现在我是一根用来打败政府的棍子。但你不相信我会表达我的观点吗?”
这一点涉及与美国悬而未决的谈判中的一个特定细节。克利夫一直在谴责政府,他认为政府将在美国提出要求之前撤退。据他说,美国一直在欺凌弱小。英国的利益被出卖了。
玛丽想了想。
“我认为你必须改变策略。”
“那就指挥他们吧。”
他向前倾身,态度突然转变,语气和手势彬彬有礼,甜美,很少有女人能抗拒。玛丽的心虽然老练,却感到一阵迷人的颤动。她说话了,而且说得很好。她没有独立的思想,也没有什么真正的知识。但她却有着出色的记者能力;她知道要记住什么,以及如何讲述。克利夫聚精会神地听她说话,心里承认她确实赢得了这段时间。与他上次认识她时相比,她的性格更加明确。她的镇定和训练有素的举止让他感到放松。感谢上帝,她不是一个聪明的女人——他多么讨厌这个品种!但她是一个有用的人。她经常表现出的微笑是他非常欢迎的。他知道追求一个在思想和热情上都比他更优秀的女人是什么感觉。这让他痛苦又心碎。
“嗯,这一切都是最有启发性的,”他最后说道。 “我非常感谢你。”他伸出一双手,瘦削,棕色,和他的脸一样饱经风霜,握住了她的一只手。 “我们是很老的朋友了,不是吗?”
“我们是吗?”玛丽向后退了一步说道。
“就任何人都可以成为像我这样的人的朋友而言,”他急忙说道。 “告诉我,你和特兰莫尔夫人在一起吗?”
“不。几天后我就去找她——直到我离开伦敦。”
“别走开,”他突然而坚持地说。 “别走开。”
玛丽在与他对视的目光中不禁出现了轻微的动摇。然后,当她站起来时,他突然说道:
“顺便说一句,他们告诉我艾什是一个伟大的人。”
她听出了他语气中难以置信的轻蔑,笑了起来。
“他们说他将直接进入内阁。”
“据我所知,凯蒂女士是众神和人类的丑闻,也是镇上最时尚的人物?”
“哦,现在不行,”玛丽说。 “那是去年的事了。”
“你的意思是人们厌倦了她?”
“好吧,过了一段时间,你知道,一个顽皮的孩子——”
“变得令人厌烦。她是个无聊人吗?我怀疑;我非常怀疑。”
“去看看吧,”玛丽说。 “你什么时候在那里吃午饭?”
“我想明天。我要去找你吗?”
“不好了。我和凯蒂女士一点也不亲密。”
当克利夫跟着她走进大客厅时,他脸上的微笑消失在他的小胡子之下。他立刻猜出了两者之间的关系,或者说他自以为猜到了。
至于玛丽,她最后一次见到克利夫,他光着头站在大使馆的台阶上,他瘦削的外表和丑陋的英俊外表使他从周围的男人中脱颖而出。然后,当他们开车离开时,她很高兴黑暗将她隐藏在特兰莫尔夫人身边。突然间她笑不出来了。她心里充满了这样的感觉:如果杰弗里·克利夫现在不向她求婚,生活就会完全失去它的味道,它精心珍惜和增强的味道,青春就会抛弃她。与此同时,她意识到她必须使用她能使用的一切武器来与之战斗。
“这不是我预料到的吗?”达雷尔冷冷地笑着说道。
“噢,是的,先生——是的,先生!”灰烬酒店的管家心烦意乱地环视客厅,说道。 “我相信夫人会直接来的。请坐吗?
这个男人的辞职神情让达雷尔确信基蒂夫人可能没有对仆人下任何命令就出去了,现在已经忘记了她的午餐会——毫无疑问,希尔街一家人已经习惯了这种情况。
“我要吃午饭,”他心里想,“无论发生什么。这些年轻人希望留在自己的位置上。啊!”
因为他观察到,放置在一个小画架上的是德隆格维尔夫人穿着戏服的照片,他举起眼镜来观看它。他立刻猜到它的出现与现在在伦敦名声大噪的花哨舞会有关,他仔细地检查了它。 “凯蒂女士会在其中引起轰动——毫无疑问!”他转身离开时对自己说。 “她有最敏锐的 风骚 所有这些都是为了产生效果。其他人都不能碰她——夫人。阿尔科特——没有一个!”
他想到了当时伦敦社会中众所周知的某个群体的其他成员——这个群体的主要特征是女性的美丽、奢侈和大胆。这绝不是一群单纯的时尚人士。它包含了大量的能力和成就;一些出身名门望族的人,也是品格高尚、前途远大的人。一些来自文学或艺术界的人,除了他们的文学或艺术天赋外,还拥有某种愉快的生活艺术,而其他一些人——尤其是年轻女孩——普遍承认他们有某种特殊的美貌或举止,超出了普通的标准。金钱实际上是作为一个团体的团体的前提。他们所属的生活是有钱人的生活,他们遇到的房子都是有钱人家。但金钱本身并没有任何力量购买进入他们的行列。该团体的成员对纯粹财富的要求至少和他们对纯粹美德的要求一样不耐烦。
总体而言,该群体是产生该群体的社会中发酵和成长的一个因素。它对传统和限制的不耐烦,对知识或艺术力量的推崇,甚至是因其自命不凡和排他性而激起的愤怒反对,在我们社会历史的那个时刻,也许都是有利而不是有害的。旧的习俗受到很大的动摇;新人正在塑造自己,这群勇敢的年轻人和才华横溢的人住在彼此的房子里,用教名互相称呼,制定了一系列社会规则,讨论书籍,使艺术家成名,并且,时不时地影响政治,无疑有助于新世界的诞生。他们的敌人称他们为“大天使”,而他们自己也沾沾自喜地接受了这个名字。
当然,基蒂是一位大天使,阿尔科特夫人也是。克里夫在旅行开始之前就属于他们。路易斯·哈曼或多或少是他们的部落的人,而特兰莫尔夫人虽然自己不是大天使,但在伦敦和乡村招待了人们。就像与该团体有联系的其他年长妇女一样,她不属于他们,但她“庇护”了他们。
达雷尔很清楚他不属于他们,尽管他个人认识该组织的几乎所有成员。他对自己的排斥并不是完全无动于衷。这个事实比排斥本身更让他恼火。
他刚检查完印刷品,门又开了,杰弗里·克利夫走了进来。自从他回来之后,达雷尔就再也没有见过他,因为他对政府的攻击使他成为了当时的英雄。对于报纸上的成功,达雷尔的嫉妒和轻蔑并不亚于特兰莫尔夫人,尽管原因完全不同。但他比她更了解这个人的智力品质,他对这位记者的蔑视被他对这位文学家相当但不情愿的尊重所缓和。
他们冷冷地互相打招呼,而克利夫没有看到女主人,恼怒地环顾四周。
“好吧,我们可能会互相招待,”达雷尔在他们坐下时说道。 “凯蒂女士经常忘记她的约会。”
“她是否?”克利夫假装翻阅身边的一本书,冷冷地说。他的女主人不在场,这触动了他的虚荣心,更何况达雷尔认为他是一个被遗忘的人。然而,达雷尔不介意任何可能避免的不适,灵巧地向前推进了几下,克利夫的眉毛放松了,他们很快就开始交谈了。
该部门的立场自然成为一个话题。两三个人即将退休,整个职位岌岌可危。是否会在不解散的情况下重组内阁,还是必须向国家提出上诉?
克利夫非常赞成后一种做法。如果不进行全面的洗牌,并且没有机会进行一些涉及新鲜血液的全新组合,那么政党的财富就不可能恢复。
“无论如何,”克利夫说,“我想我们的朋友肯定知道其中一个重要的帖子吧?”
“威廉·阿什?哦,我想是的,除非有什么阴谋妨碍。”达雷尔压低了声音。 “事实上,帕勒姆与他合得不太好。阿什太聪明了,而帕勒姆不明白他的悖论。”
“而且我猜,”克利夫微笑着说道,“帕勒姆夫人有话要说吗?”
达雷尔耸耸肩。
“在一天中的这个时候,人们仍然需要考虑这种事情,这听起来令人难以置信。但我敢说这是真的。”
“不过,我想凯蒂女士——顺便说一句,我们还要给她多长时间?”——克利夫皱着眉头看了看手表——“可以放心地处理这件事。”
达雷尔只是扬起眉毛,没有回答。 “什么,不是帕勒姆夫人的对手吗?”克利夫笑着说。 “我应该想到——根据我对她的旧记忆——她会是二十岁的对手?”
“哦,如果她愿意尝试的话。”
“她没有野心吗?”
“当然;但并不总是为了同一件事。”
“她试图让太多的马并排行驶?”
“哦,我不是一个好朋友,”达雷尔微笑着说。 “我永远不应该梦想去分析凯蒂女士。啊!”——他转过头——“我们是不是被遗忘了,或者只是被记住了——哪一个?”
脚步急促地走近,门开了,一位女士出现在门槛上。然而,那不是基蒂。新来的人上前,戴上一副时髦的眼镜,用一种慵懒而困惑的眼神看着这两个人,正如达雷尔立即对自己说的那样,她的目的只是为了延长她进来的时间和效果。阿尔科特夫人很高,而且异常瘦弱。她那细长的喉咙上的深色脑袋、眉间富有诗意的线条、半闭着的眼睛、闪闪发光的白牙,以及她衣服上所有精致的细节,甚至可以说,她的举止,都给人一种美丽的印象,尽管她实际上并不美丽。但她有优雅,也有勇气——这是大天使的两个必备品质;她也是一位杰出的艺术家,也是一位不小的评论家。
“先生。克利夫,”她说,一开始显然是令人愉快的惊喜,“基蒂从来没有告诉过我。你什么时候来?”
“我几天前就到了。昨晚你怎么没去大使馆?”
“因为我的工作更好了。我已经放弃暗恋了。但我本来会来——为了见你。啊,达雷尔先生!”她用另一种语气补充道,伸出了一只漠然的手。 “基蒂在哪儿?”她环顾四周。
“我们去订午餐吧?”达雷尔说,他像她自己一样漫不经心地向她打招呼。
“Kitty实在是太坏了; “她迟到的时间从来不会少于一个小时。”阿尔科特夫人边说边坐下。 “上次她和我们一起吃饭时,我向她要了七点三十分。她认为肯定发生了一些非常特别的事情,于是她气喘吁吁地在八点半到达。然后她对我很生气,因为她不是最后一个。但一个人不能做两次。好吧”——她对克利夫说——“你回家留下来吗?”
“这取决于,”克利夫说,“取决于英格兰是否同意我的要求。”
“你的沙漠是什么?英格兰为什么要同意你呢?”她带着尖锐的微笑回答道。 “你除了喋喋不休地谈论英格兰之外什么也没做。”
面对这样的挑战,克利夫在她旁边坐下,他们开始开玩笑。达雷尔虽然因为他们为把他纳入其中而付出的小麻烦而受到了内心的伤害,但他什么也没有出现,时不时地说一句话,或者翻阅插图书。
五分钟后,一位新客人到来。走进来的是小迪安,温斯顿博士,他最初是在格罗斯维尔公园认识凯蒂夫人的。他带着满腔的干劲和热情进来了。他在威斯敏斯特教堂度过了一个上午,与另一位比他更有名但不比他更有魅力的院长在一起,还有另一位志趣相投的年轻历史学家,他们都是过去丰富的人类细节的热情爱好者,真实的历史学家。男人和女人,国王,王后,主教,刽子手,以及他们剩下的所有碎片。他们一起打开了一座皇家陵墓,院长的眼睛闪闪发光,仿佛他一直在处理骨灰的王后的鬼魂仍在与他行走和交谈。
他以自己的光明、无私的方式走遍了英国社会的大部分阶层,尽管没有一个阶层是他的奴隶。他把达雷尔和阿尔科特夫人当作熟人来打招呼。阿尔科特夫人把克利夫介绍给他,身材矮小的迪恩相当僵硬地鞠了一躬。他是政府的支持者,他认为克利夫针对他们的竞选活动粗俗且不公平。
“基蒂女士没有希望了吗?”他对阿尔科特夫人说。
“不多。我们下去吃午饭吧?”
“没有我们的女主人吗?”院长睁开了眼睛。
“哦,基蒂预料到了,”阿尔科特夫人假装听天由命地说,“仆人们也已经做好了准备。基蒂邀请大家共进午餐,然后有人邀请她,但她忘记了。这很简单。”
“确实如此,”克利夫说,扣上外套的扣子,“但我想我应该去俱乐部。”
他正在寻找帽子,这时楼梯上又传来一阵骚动——一个高亢的声音在发号施令——凯蒂突然冲了出来。她一看到客人就站住了,语速很快,借口滔天,没人能插上一句话。然后她依次飞到每位客人面前,握住他们的双手——只有达雷尔除外——表现得那么悔罪、有趣和迷人,每个人都感到安抚。当然是范切特——罪犯范切特,无与伦比的人。她的舞会礼服。基蒂举起眼睛和双手向天——这将是一个奇迹,一个奇迹。确实,除非在戴上它之前,她已经寒冷而安静地躺在她的小坟墓里了。但范切特的脾气——范切特的反复无常——不!基蒂开始模仿被一群时髦女士撕成碎片的伟大裁缝,中间突然停下来对克利夫说:
“你要走吗?我看到你拿起了帽子。”
“我对女主人感到绝望了,”克利夫微笑着说道。然后,当他意识到阿尔科特夫人已经开始讨论这个主题并让其他人参与其中时,他低声补充道,“我没有心情做第二好。”
基蒂的眼睛闪烁了一下,转向玛德琳·阿尔科特。
“啊, I 还记得——在格罗斯维尔公园——你的脾气有多坏吗?你一定会愤怒地走开。”
“失望——是的,”克利夫说,他看着她,脸上流露出难以掩饰的钦佩之情。基蒂穿着黑色衣服,但一顶白色薄纱大帽子,以当时最奢华的时尚风格,为她的头发和眼睛做了一个框架,增加了她外表的整体轻盈感和幻想感。克利夫试图回忆起他在格罗斯维尔公园第一次见到她时的情景,但他对这个年轻女孩的记忆无法与眼前辉煌而强烈的现实相抗衡。
午餐时,他因为必须把她和院长分开而感到恼火。然而,她对这位老人很着迷,老人与她谈论历史、艺术和巴黎,带着一种令人愉快的天真和无知,使凯蒂·阿什夫人成为镇上的话题,此外还有一种老式的尊重,不知不觉地抑制了她的兴趣。她回答他时的态度和措辞。然而,当院长让她自由时,她又回到了克利夫身边,就好像在某种程度上,他们两个真的一直在说话,通过与其他人的所有明显的对话。
“我已经阅读了你们所有的电报,”她说。 “你为何对威廉发起如此猛烈的攻击?”
克利夫吃了一惊,但他并没有感到尴尬——她的语气不像怀里的妻子。
“我攻击的是官员,而不是那个人。威廉知道这一点。”
“如果可能的话,他今天就会来。他想见你。”
“好消息!威廉知道,如果他处在我的位置,也会同样狠狠地打击。”
“我认为他不会,”基蒂平静地说。 “他真是太慷慨了。”
克利夫的脸色顿时涨红。
“得分不错!我希望我有一个妻子为我打这些击球。我认为,一个敏锐的政治家没有权利慷慨大方。他正处于战争状态。”
基蒂没有注意到。她用手撑着小下巴,目光仔细地审视着同伴的脸。
“在来美国之前,你一直都在哪里?”
“在沙漠里——与恶魔战斗,”克利夫过了一会儿说道。
“这意味着什么?”她疑惑地问道。
“读我的新书。这会告诉你关于沙漠的事。”
“那魔鬼呢?”
“啊,我自己留着。”
“你?”她轻声说道。 “我刚刚又读了一遍你的诗。”
克利夫微微一愣,然后神情漠然。
“你?但它们是三年前写的。老天爷,人们会遇到新的魔鬼,就像遇到新的熟人一样。”
她摇了摇头。
“你是什么意思?”他问她,一半是好笑,一半是拘谨。
“他们总是老的,”她低声说道。他们的目光相遇了。她的心里也有和他一样的隐秘的、不安的忧郁。再加上她周围耀眼的青春气息,她和她的房子所暗示的珍惜、受宠若惊、奢华的生活,这些都给他留下了奇怪的印象。 “她是想让我明白她不高兴吗?”他心想。但下一刻她就和院长愉快地闲聊起来,她一时表现出的所有情绪都消失了。
午宴进行到一半时,艾什进来了。他出现了,神气十足,面带微笑,衣着无可挑剔,丝毫没有表现出他刚刚经历过的一个早上的正式工作的辛苦,也没有表现出众所周知的许多尴尬。 ,正在向外交部施加压力。院长对戏剧性有着敏锐的感觉,他密切地注视着他和克利夫之间的会面,考虑到这两个人之间几乎是个人的决斗——一场最近进行的信件、电报或演讲的决斗。在欧洲和美洲的视野中。因为阿什现在在下议院代表外交部,并受到跟随克利夫的保守党极端分子的困扰。
自然,作为英国人,他们见面时就好像什么也没发生过一样,前一天在蓓尔美尔分别了。 “你好,艾什!”和“你好,克里夫!很高兴再次见到你”,事情就这样结束了。院长把它视为英国“粘液”的一个样本,他有趣地回忆起他上次访问第二帝国的巴黎——巴黎在政府和反对派之间左右为难, 沙龙 的一除以 沙龙 除非某个当时的拉撒路、某个著名的小说家或诗人,在亚伯拉罕的自由主义怀抱中,在胜利的尖叫声或叛国的嚎叫声中进入官方的地狱。
在这个英语案例中,并不是有任何回避话题的情况。阿什一坐到座位上,就开始拿那天早上报纸上出现的一封支持者的来信取笑克利夫。 时。这本书的作者是S勋爵,他在半代人的时间里一直扮演着公众“傻瓜”的角色。受到他的赞扬简直是一场灾难,克利夫的脸红了,立刻就表明这封信让他非常恼火。他和阿什向这位作家发起了攻击,互相争斗轶事,而这些轶事让他很快就陷入了困境。
“这一切都很好,”基蒂在迎接最后一个故事的笑声中说道,“但他从来没有告诉过 您 他是如何向第二任Lady S求婚的。”
她举起一颗红草莓,放在她那张红红的、笑着的嘴唇上,等了一会儿——环顾四周。 “继续吧,基蒂。”艾什赞许地说。 “继续。”
在得到允许后,基蒂给出了其中一个小“场景”,这些小“场景”是根据她自己的一些经历安排的,这些场景在她的密友中非常有名。阿什称这些为她的“客厅戏法”,并且乐此不疲地让她展示它们。现在,就像在格罗斯维尔公园一样,她吸引了观众。她说话不停顿,她那小小的五官完美地回应了她才华的每一次冲动,每一个角色的触动或对话都像恶意的喜剧一样讲述着故事。胳膊、手、肩膀都在帮助最终的结果——一张桌子被一阵笑声席卷而过,在笑声中凯蒂静静地吃完了她的草莓。
“干得好,基蒂!”坐在她对面的艾什伸出手,拍了拍她的手。
“她爱他吗?”克利夫一边自问,一边试图仔细观察他们的关系,却拿不定主意。他越来越意识到她对自己产生的令人兴奋的影响,事实上,由于突然的忧郁袭来,她像伦勃朗的影子一样,使她平常心情的快乐和轻浮变得更加突出。
不管是什么刺激,都利用了他的虚荣心。他也寻找机会并找到了。很快,他就占据了谈话的主导地位,讲述了在萨多瓦之后的冬季胜利的日子里,他与俾斯麦在普鲁士乡间别墅里度过的两天。这个故事讲得很精彩,而且具有一定的政治意义。但被傲慢和做作毁容了,艾希的眼神开始有些跳动。与此同时,克利夫无法忘记他面对的是一位竞争对手和一名官员,过了一会儿,他忍不住时不时地发出挑战的声音。谈话从故事转向当前的外交政治问题。艾什懒洋洋地躺着,抽烟,一开始像往常一样什么也不知道,什么也没有听到。然后评论或更正就被删除了;克利夫激烈地重复了一遍——只是为了激怒另一个人。此刻,谁也不知道,这两个人是如何互相衡量的 军团对军团——部长的广博知识和训练有素的经验与作家的独创性、力量和奇妙的想象力形成鲜明对比。
院长高兴地看着这一幕。他非常喜欢艾什,喜欢看到他战胜“报社人”。基蒂可爱的棕色眼睛从一只眼睛移到另一只眼睛。现在,在院长看来,她为艾什感到骄傲,现在她同情克利夫。然而不久,她就像腓立比的神一样,席卷了诗人,把他带离了田野。
“别再说政治了!”她举起手,专横地对艾什说道。 “I 我想和克利夫先生谈谈舞会的事情。”
克利夫还没有准备好服从。他有一种被认为处于劣势的愤怒感觉,并想再次挑战他的主人。但凯蒂却给他的伤口注入了香膏。她把他拉开了一点,只用她美丽的眼睛注视着他,并用一种新的尊重的声音与他交谈。
“你当然要去吗? Lady M. 有一天告诉我她 必须 你。”
克利夫仍然有点郁闷,他回答说,他的邀请函已经在他伦敦的房间里等着他了。他漫不经心地给出了这些信息,就好像这对他来说无关紧要。事实上,当他还在美国时,当他在纽约的一份报纸上看到舞会的消息时,他立即写信给即将举行舞会的侯爵夫人——他的一位老熟人——实际上要求一个邀请。确实是很快就寄出了,克利夫没等它到达,就在巴黎订购了他的衣服。凯蒂询问那是什么。
“我告诉我的人复制阿尔瓦的肖像。”
“啊,没错,”基蒂点点头说——“没错。只是如果是托尔克马达那就更好了。”
克利夫相当恼怒,询问他身上到底有什么东西如此强烈地暗示了大审判官。基蒂手里拿着烟,半闭着眼睛,没有立即回答。她似乎在艰难地审视他的脸。
“我想是力量,”她最后慢慢地说。克利夫等待着,然后突然大笑起来。
“那么残忍呢?”她点点头。
“谁是我的受害者?”
她什么也没说。
“凯蒂女士,你听谁的故事?”
她提到了一位法国女士的名字。克里夫脸色一变。
“啊,好吧,如果你一直在和她说话,”他傲慢地说,“你很可能会看到我以迪亚波罗斯的身份出现。”
“不。但从那时起,我又重新读了这些诗。你看,你告诉公众这么多——”
“你认为你有权利猜出剩下的部分吗?”他停顿了一下,然后不耐烦地补充道:“别猜,凯蒂女士。你拥有生活能给你的一切。就让我的秘密独自一人吧。”
一片寂静。凯蒂环顾四周,发现玛德琳·阿尔科特正在招待其他客人,而她和克利夫却没有被注意到。忽然克利夫俯身向她,表情粗暴地说道:
“你听说——并且相信——我折磨了她——我杀了她?”
他眼中的痛苦似乎激起了凯蒂眼中的某种回应之火。
“对,但是-”
“但是呢?”
“我并不觉得这很奇怪——”
克利夫仔细地看着她。
“——一个人应该是——一个非人的野兽——如果他嫉妒的话——并且绝望。你能同情这些事情吗?
她长长地吸了一口气,扔掉了小手指上夹着的香烟。
“我对他们一无所知。”
“因为,”他犹豫道,“你自己的生活如此幸福?”
她躲开了他。 “你不认为嫉妒很快就会消失吗——就像祈祷和去教堂一样?我从来没有遇到过一个足够关心、嫉妒的人。”
她先是充满激情地说话,然后带着轻蔑的目光,扫视房间另一边的玛德琳·阿尔科特。克利夫看到了她的表情,想起阿尔科特夫人的丈夫是一位杰出的财政部官员,多年来一直是一位非常高贵而美丽的女人的亲密朋友,而她自己的婚姻并不幸福。尽管议论很多,但这件事并没有什么丑闻。与此同时,奥尔科特夫人也有自己的事情。她和她丈夫的关系显然很友好;只是两人都没有谈论过对方。他们的关系仍然是个谜。
克利夫向基蒂弯下腰。
“你却说你能理解?——这样的事情对你来说并不奇怪。”
她轻蔑地笑了笑。
“是吗?就像那些认为只要有机会就可以表演或唱歌的人一样。我选择认为我能感觉到。当然我不能。我们失去了力量。所有古老的、可怕的、辉煌的事物都已死了。”
“你是说旧时的激情?”
“还有古诗! 你会 以后再也不这样写了。”
“上帝禁止!”克利夫低声说道。然后,当基蒂站起来时,他的目光追随着她。 “凯蒂女士,你向我提出了一个你很难理解的挑战。总有一天我必须回答这个问题。”
“别回答,”基蒂急忙说道。
“是的,如果我能把话说完的话,”他阴沉地说。她怀着一种着迷的心情看着他的眼神,兴奋不已,因为她对所讲故事的记忆,她自己大胆讲述的故事,以及她预感到的死寂的激情,笼罩在那个人的心中,笼罩在可怕的阴影中。她身边的男人。即使他被指责的丑陋的事情,也只会增加他的个性对她这样的性格的兴趣,贪婪的经验,对现实的不满。
当他这边对她对他的态度感到议论和惊讶时,作为艾什的妻子,她肯定会不喜欢他,并试图践踏他。这正是他所期望的。
“我听说你是一位大天使,基蒂女士,”院长说,他固执地比其他所有客人都待得更久,现在把他的小个子和细腿放在女主人旁边的一把椅子上,等待着愉快的五分钟。他是最无害的社交享乐主义者,是院长,他觉得基蒂夫人在午餐时欺骗了他,而选择了那个伟大的、令人生气的、拜伦式的克利夫家伙,他应该有比与灰烬一起吃午餐更好的品味。
“我是吗?”基蒂说,她把自己扔到了沙发的角落里,蜷缩着坐在那里,院长认为这种姿势很迷人,尽管他知道,“这不会成为温斯顿夫人。”
“好吧,你最清楚,”院长说。 “但是,无论如何,请乖乖地给我解释一下什么是大天使。”
“大多数男人和所有女人都不喜欢的人,”基蒂立即说道。
“但他们似乎很多,”院长评论道。
“一点也不!”基蒂带着一种冒犯的神情喊道。 “一点也不!如果他们人数众多,当然会很受欢迎。”
“事实上,它们很罕见——而且令人厌恶?他们还有什么特点?”
“勇气,”基蒂抬起头说道。
“有勇气打破规则吗?我听说他们都用教名互相称呼,住在彼此的房间里,互相借钱,鄙视世俗。抱歉,你是大天使,基蒂女士。”
“我不承认我是,”基蒂说,“但如果我是,你为什么感到抱歉?”
“因为,”院长微笑着说,“我认为你太聪明了,不会藐视传统。”
凯蒂恢复了体力,坐了起来,加入了战斗。她长篇大论地指责英国人生活的乏味和例行公事、好人的愚蠢以及英国人的虚伪专制。院长听着很有趣,然后又带着一丝别的想法。最后他起身要走。
“嗯,你知道,我们以前都听过这些。我的观点更有趣——微妙——浪漫!任何人都可以攻击格伦迪夫人,但只有有创意的人才能崇拜她。尝试一下,凯蒂女士。这真的值得你花时间。”
凯蒂一边嘲笑一边惊呼。
“你知道那个词——那个可憎的名字——总是让我想起什么吗?”追赶着老人。
“连猜测都让我厌烦。”基蒂暴躁地回答道。
“可以?我想起了我所认识的一些最崇高的人——勇敢的男人——美丽的女人——他们与格伦迪夫人作战并丧生。
院长站在那里,俯视着她,表情热切而敏感。当他第一次听到这些故事时,他几乎没有注意到这些故事,这些故事在他的脑海中闪过。他以为凯蒂夫人是亲密的 座谈沟通,特特 与媒体上攻击她丈夫的人相处不愉快且不体面;至于阿尔科特夫人,他特别不喜欢她。
凯蒂抬起头,表情不平静。
”“最好是战斗并失败
总比从来没有打过仗要好——”
她引述道,脸上带着她最灿烂、最挑衅的微笑之一。
“不可救药!”院长喊道,抓起帽子。 “我懂了!曾经是大天使,永远是大天使。”
“不好了!”基蒂说。 “可能会有‘天堂之战’。”
“好吧,别把阿尔科特夫人当成领导者,仅此而已。”院长一边说,一边伸出了手告别。
“现在我明白了!”基蒂得意地叫道。 “你讨厌我最好的朋友。”
院长笑着抗议,然后就走了。凯蒂和院长谈话时,艾什一直在写信,他护送老人到门口。
当他回来时,他发现凯蒂双手放在腿上坐着,显然陷入了沉思。
“亲爱的,”他看了看表,“我得直接走了,但我想见见那个男孩。”
基蒂开始了。她按了铃,孩子被抱了下来。他坐在凯蒂的膝盖上,艾什走到沙发边,用一只手臂搂住了他们俩。
“你们这对看起来并不难看,”他说,先吻了凯蒂,然后又吻了婴儿。 “但是他的脸色相当苍白,基蒂。我认为他想要这个国家。”
凯蒂什么也没说,只是掀起那件白色绣花小裙子,看着那只扭曲的脚。然后艾什感到浑身颤抖。
“亲爱的,别病态!”他怨恨地叫道。 “他的头脑如此丰富,以至于没有人会记得这一点。想想拜伦。”
凯蒂似乎没有听见。
“我记得很清楚,当我第一次看到他的脚时——在你母亲告诉我之后——他们把他带到了我身边,”她慢慢地说。 “在我看来,这就是结局——”
“什么结束了?”
“我的梦想。”
“ do 你是说,基蒂!”
“你还记得《暴风雨》中的面具吗?第一个鸢尾花,长着藏红花翅膀,还有丰富的谷神星,还有伟大的朱诺——”
她半闭上了眼睛。
“然后,仙女和收割者——在‘短草绿地’上一起跳舞,这是最甜蜜、最快乐的表演——”
她轻轻吐出这几个字。 “然后突然间-”
她僵硬地坐了起来,小手握在一起:
“普洛斯彼罗开始说话。就在一瞬间——毫无预兆——伴随着‘一种奇怪的、空洞的、混乱的噪音’”——她沉闷地拖着话——”他们严重消失。那”——她颤抖着指着孩子的脚——“对我来说就是普洛斯彼罗的标志。”
艾希不安地看着她,实在是笑不出来。
她脸色非常苍白,呼吸困难,浑身颤抖。他想要将她拉进怀里,却被她拉开了。
“第一年我非常高兴,”她用同样的声音继续说道。 “一切都是那么完美,那么辉煌。生活就像宫殿里的一场盛大的盛会。所有旧日的恐惧都消失了。当我还是个孩子的时候,我经常感到恐惧——我无法用语言表达的恐惧,但这给我带来了阴影。然后当我看到爱丽丝时——影子就靠近了。但那一切都消失了。我以为上帝已经与我和解了,并且现在会一直对我仁慈。然后我看到那只脚,我知道他仍然恨我。他已将他的印记烙进了我孩子的肉里。我再也没有快乐过,而是始终处于恐惧之中,害怕痛苦——还有死亡——还有悲伤——”
她停了下来。她的大眼睛空洞地注视着,整个瘦弱的身躯显示出某种神秘而可怜的痛苦。
一阵尖锐的惊恐席卷了艾希的脑海,同时还夹杂着一种预知某些事情的好奇感。他以前从未在她身上看到过这种情绪。但现在事情被揭露了,他突然意识到“类似的东西长期以来一直在她生活的表面下默默地移动。他抱起孩子,把他放在地板上,他在地上轻松地打滚,咕咕地叫着。然后他回到基蒂身边,以非凡的温柔和技巧安抚她。不久,她看着他,仿佛她所遭受的某种隐秘的麻烦已经释放了她,她又恢复了原来的样子。
“先别走开,”她说道,声音仍然低沉而颤抖。他靠近她,再次用双臂搂住她,默默地将她抱在胸前。
“那是天堂!”过了一会儿,他听见她低声自言自语。
“猫咪!”他的眼神变得暗淡,弯下腰去吻她。
“天哪——”她继续说道,似乎仍然是在遵循自己的想法,而不是对他说话,“因为一个人 产量 - 产量!生活总是如此紧张。”
她迅速闭上眼睛,他看着美丽的睫毛静止在她的脸颊上。带着一种他无法解释的情感——因为这不是感官的情感,正如她的屈服不是感官的屈服而是灵魂的屈服——他继续将她拥入怀中,她的生命,她的生命。他心里叹息着,将一切都赐给了他。
然后她逐渐恢复了平衡。正常的小猫又回来了。她伸出手,摸了摸他的脸。
“你必须回议院去,威廉。”
“是的,如果你没事的话。”
她坐起来,开始重新整理一些掉落的头发。
“亲爱的,你已经把我们带到了如此的高度和深度!”艾什沉默地看了她一会儿,说道:“我忘了告诉你今天早上我从母亲那里带回来的八卦了。”
凯蒂停了下来,疑惑地说道。她的脸色依然苍白。
“你知道母亲确信玛丽·莱斯特已经决定嫁给克利夫吗?”
停顿了一下,然后基蒂带着难以置信的轻蔑说道:“他永远不会 梦想 娶她为妻!”
“不太确定!她有很多钱,而克利夫非常想要钱。”
艾什开始整理他的文件。基蒂断断续续地又问了他一些关于他母亲所说的话。当他离开她时,她在沙发上坐了很长时间,玩弄着从衣服上取下的一些花,或者阴沉地看着躺在她旁边地板上的孩子。
“我的女士!来了!”
女仆探出头来传达这个好消息。凯蒂在卧室里愤怒地走来走去,现在几乎说不出话来。
女仆正在楼梯上等候。管家已经在大厅等候了。直到前门传来急促的敲门声,威尔逊费了好大劲才冲过去打开门,房子里一直笼罩着一种暴风雨般的寂静。舞会当晚十点钟。凯蒂服装的一半摊在她的床上。另一半——尽管从七点钟起,基蒂的所有仆人都被雇来乘坐最快的双轮马车,每隔半小时赶往位于新邦德街的凡切特店——还没有出现。
然而,绝望终于结束了。一个气喘吁吁的男孩把盒子拖进大厅,管家和男仆把它搬上楼,走进女主人的房间,穿着白色长袍的基蒂站在那儿等着,她的眉毛像美狄亚。
“带来它的男孩看起来正好可以掉下来,我的女士!”女仆边说边打开盒子。她是一个热心的仆人,但有时她很高兴通过坚持他们的快乐的阴暗面来惩罚这些伟大的人。
基蒂在急切的监督任务中停下来,转向站在旁边的女佣,她张大了嘴,凝视着从盒子里出来的辉煌。
“跑下去告诉威尔逊,给他一些酒和蛋糕!”她断然说道。 “这全都是范切特的错——可恶的生物!——在她做出了所有的承诺之后,还是这样坚持到了最后!”
女仆去了,很快又飞回来了。因为世界上没有哪个男孩会长期欺骗她看到夫人完成的礼服。
“威尔逊喂他了吗?”基蒂向她提出了这个问题,她俯下身子,时而皱眉,时而欣喜,看着眼前的创造物。
“好的,夫人。这是一个相当小的家伙。他说他的腿刚刚从脚上滑下来。”女孩说道,随着月袍的展开,她变得越来越困惑。
“穷光蛋!”凯蒂漫不经心地说。 “我很高兴我不是跑腿的——布兰奇!你知道范切特可能是个老恶魔,但她 具有 有味道!看看这些褶皱,还有她戴珍珠的样子!那么现在——赶紧吧!”
佩尼瓦飞走了,在兴奋的女仆的帮助下,凯蒂穿上了衣服。她不止一次地宣称,这件衣服毫无希望,一点也不合身,这件衣服根本不是她所订购的,她不能也不会穿着它出去,这件衣服根本不适合她。这简直就是丑闻,范切特永远不应该得到一分钱。她的女仆们明白了她的意思,只是用她们熟练的手指尽可能快地继续拉、拍、系紧,直到最后一个折痕落到原来的位置,女仆退后一步,双手合十,说道:“哦,我的女士。” !”充满了无法抑制的狂喜。
“出色地?”基蒂说道,仍然皱着眉头——“呃,布兰奇?”
真正的女仆是不屑于表露感情的。但她点头表示同意。 “如果你问我,我的女士,我想你从来没有穿得这么好看过。”
凯蒂的眉毛终于放松了,她站在那里凝视着面前大玻璃中的倒影。她把自己想象成阿尔忒弥斯——朗格维尔夫人——穿着白色丝绸狩猎服,长及脚踝,从头到脚绣有珍珠和银的新月形图案,腰间系着一条银腰带。她的喉咙上镶满了华丽的珍珠,这些珍珠是特兰莫尔家族的财产,是特兰莫尔夫人特意借给她的。纤细的脚踝和双脚裹着白色丝绸,交叉着银色吊袜带,脚上穿着银色凉鞋。她的腰带上装有白翼箭;她的肩上挂着镶银的象牙弓,胸前挂着一条苹果绿的围巾,围巾是白色整体和谐中唯一的颜色,上面挂着角,也是象牙和银的,就像腰带和蝴蝶结是在巴黎德隆格维尔夫人为她设计的。
但她和她的模特最终都不会满足于如此精致、奇特和精致的装饰。基蒂和投石党女神都知道,她们必须在人群中保持自己的立场。为此必须有钻石。因此,白色手臂上的袖子从钻石扣处向后垂落。她右手中的象牙长矛,顶端是一个长着闪闪发光翅膀的小天才。她一头束着珍珠辫子的金发,闪耀着特兰莫尔夫人所预见的大钻石新月形,两侧各有一颗小星星。
“好吧,我保证,基蒂!”她丈夫的更衣室里传来一个声音。
基蒂气急败坏地转身。
“你喜欢它?”她哭了。艾希走近。她把角举到嘴边,踮起脚尖。这个动作令人着迷。它充满了春天树林的青春和新鲜感。它暗示着山脉的距离和高山谷的孤独。艾什的脉搏中充满了陶醉。他希望女仆们远离他,这样他就可以将女神抱在自己的人类怀里。相反,他只是懒洋洋地微笑着站着。
“你叫什么恩底弥翁?”他问她。 “凯蒂,你是一个梦想!”
凯蒂旋转了一下,然后突然停了下来,伸出了一只脚。
“看看那些丝绸制品,先生。除了范切特,没有人能让他们看起来很糟糕。但他们破坏了这件衣服。一切都是为了取悦母亲和格伦迪夫人!”
“我喜欢他们。我想——你能到最近的布斯金斯吗?你会更喜欢脚踝 自然?我认为你不会被录取,基蒂。”
“我不应该吗?而且能露出脚的人太少了!”凯蒂遗憾地叹了口气。
艾什的目光与女仆的目光相遇,女仆试图掩饰自己的笑容,他和她都笑了。
“你觉得怎么样,呃,布兰奇?”
“我觉得夫人现在的样子要好得多。”女仆斩钉截铁地说。 “当她到达那里时,她会感觉很奇怪。”
基蒂像一阵旋风一样转向她。 “睡觉!”她一边说着,一边将双手搭在女仆的肩膀上。 “赶紧去睡觉吧!艾丝特可以把我的斗篷给我。你知道吗,威廉,她昨晚彻夜未眠,想着她的哥哥?”
“那个动过手术的兄弟?但我以为有好消息呢?”艾什和蔼地说。
“他好多了,”基蒂插嘴道。 “她今天下午听说的。我希望她今晚不会像鹅一样睡不着觉。我回来的时候别让我在这儿发现你!”她一边说着,一边松开了眼里充满泪水的女孩。 “先生。艾什会帮助我,如果他把绳子拉成结,我就会把它们剪断——就这样!走开,吃晚饭,然后上床睡觉。今天我让他们过着这样的生活!”她举起双手,敷衍地忏悔。
女仆被迫离开,女仆也带着基蒂的歌剧斗篷和扇子回到大厅,直到她的女主人高兴才下来。他们俩都累得要命,但他们对基蒂的美丽和她精美的连衣裙感到真正的无私的快乐。无论如何,她并不总是体贴他们。但是,由于穷人每天向富人表现出的那种奇妙的慷慨,他们还是喜欢她。家里的每一个仆人都对阿什忠诚。
与此同时,基蒂开车送艾什去他自己的卫生间,在房间里走来走去,时而对着镜子打量自己,时而透过开着的门与他聊天。
“你听说过有关星期二的更多消息吗?”她马上问他。
“噢,是的!——无数的赞美。当我离开众议院时,老帕勒姆追上了我,说了各种客气话。”
“我在马歇尔店遇见了帕勒姆夫人,”基蒂说。 “她真是太感谢了!我想向她展示如何做到这一点。亲爱的我!”基蒂叹了口气。 “从此以后我的生死都要靠帕勒姆夫人丰满的胸膛吗?”
她坐着,一只脚踩在地板上,陷入沉思。
“我要告诉你妈妈说的话吗?”艾什隔着门喊道。
“是的。”
他重复了一遍——只要穿着能让他说出一些迷人而深思熟虑的短语,特兰莫尔夫人在这些短语中充满了宽慰、快乐和秘密的自责,向他表达了她对自己和选定的公众产生的影响。基蒂在帕勒姆音乐节的表演。基蒂确实表现得像个天使——天使 巴尔的盥洗室,背诵阿尔弗雷德·德·缪塞的一个场景。对帕勒姆夫人如此彬彬有礼,对首相如此微笑,有时甚至带有一丝恶意,而首相则竭尽全力从这位迷人的客人的脑海中抹去他上周演讲的所有记忆;来自公主的微笑,来自观众的掌声;事实上,这是一个充满泡沫和甜食的夜晚,帕勒姆夫人从这个夜晚中露出了冷酷的满足感,同时意识到她从此以后非常明确地、相当不愉快地欠了灰烬家族的债。伊丽莎白·特兰莫尔带着喜悦的颤抖回到家,高兴地相信阿什的道路现在已经畅通无阻了。
基蒂听着,有时很高兴,有时倾向于批评或蔑视婆婆的赞美。但她确实爱特兰莫尔夫人,总的来说,她微笑着。事实上,自从那天晚上的奇怪情绪以来,微笑就一直是基蒂的一部分,当时她发现自己在威廉的怀里哭泣,原因完全超出了她自己的定义。就像童话里的王子一样,她心上的铁箍松了。她似乎在房子里跳舞;她用亲吻吞噬了她的孩子;有时她甚至愿意让威廉告诉她他的母亲对玛丽与杰弗里·克利夫的风流韵事的进展有何怀疑,尽管她小心翼翼地避免直接与特兰莫尔夫人谈论这件事。至于克利夫本人,她似乎已经把他抛在了脑后。她从未提起过他,艾什只能猜测她对他不再抱有幻想。
“好吧,亲爱的!我希望我已经做出了足够的傻事来取悦你!”
艾什把门打开,站在门槛上,穿着威尼斯贵族的锦缎和皮毛。他是一个有点宏伟的幽灵,基蒂,哄他或强迫他穿上这件衣服,发出了一声喜悦的尖叫。她在自己的镜子前看到了他,当他们胜利地摆出姿势时,深红色的参议员看着白色的女神。
“你知道,基蒂,你是一位非常洛可可式的女神!”艾什说。 “你不太懂希腊语!”
“正是我想要的,谢谢你。”基蒂对着玻璃上自己的倒影表示礼貌。 “范切特本可以教他们一两件事!现在就来吧!啊!等待!”
然后,她收拾好自己的东西,离开了房间。艾什跟着她,看到她要去育婴室,那是后楼梯上的一个大房间。到了门口,她转过身来,把手指放在嘴唇上。然后她溜了进去,过了一会儿又出现,小声地说:“护士不在床上。你可以进来了。”护士确实比躺在床上更清楚。她一直坐着欣赏夫人的辉煌,当艾什走进房间时,她微笑着站起来。
“一群白痴,护士,不是吗?”他说道,他也表现出了自己的样子,然后他跟着基蒂来到了孩子的床边。她俯下身子,掀开婴儿毯的一角,可能会逗弄他的脸颊,轻轻碰触那只斑驳的手,移开一盏在她看来太近的灯——但仍然站在那里看着。
“我们必须走了,基蒂。”
“我希望他再大一点,”她不满地低声说道,“这样他就能醒来看到我们俩了!我希望他能这样记住我。”
“王后和女猎手,走吧!”艾什拉着她的手说道。
楼梯平台外灯光昏暗。仆人们都在下面的大厅里等待着。
“基蒂,”艾什热情地说,“吻我一下。今晚你真可爱——真可爱!”
她转身。
“照顾好我的衣服!”她微笑着,然后将自己的脸伸出闪闪发光的新月形,小心翼翼地握住它,让她的嘴唇贴在他的嘴唇上。
艾什和基蒂很快就挤进了无休无止的马车队伍中,这些马车封锁了通往圣詹姆斯广场的所有通道。舞会早在人们的预料之中,街道上挤满了人群,被警察挡住了。马车以一英尺的速度行驶,有足够的时间沉思或交谈。凯蒂不停地向外张望,当她看到服装或熟人时就会惊呼。阿什有时间思考与美国谈判的最新阶段,并在脑海中回顾了他写给美国的一封信中的句子。 时 这是对杰弗里·克里夫(Geoffrey Cliffe)的一项严重暴力行为的回应。那天早上他自己的信就出现了。阿什为此感到自豪。他大胆地认为,这巧妙地、也许是决定性地暴露了克利夫的夸张和不真诚。无论如何,他一边想着,一边哼起了欢快的曲子。
然后他突然不协调地想起了一件事情。
“基蒂,你知道今天早上我收到了你妈妈的来信吗?”
“你有吗?”基蒂不情愿地转向他说道。 “我猜她想要一些钱。”
“她做过。她说她很辛苦。如果我想使用它,我可以很容易地得到答复。”
“你什么意思?”
“我可能会说,‘D——嗯,我们也是!’”
凯蒂不安地笑了。
“现在不要开始谈论金钱问题,威廉, 请设立的区域办事处外,我们在美国也开设了办事处,以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“
“不,亲爱的,我不会。但我们确实必须参与进来。”
“您 将 还这么多债!”基蒂皱着眉头说道。
艾什哈哈大笑起来。
“这就是我的奢侈,不是吗?我向你保证我会遵循最受认可的原则。我将我们的可用资金分配给尽可能多的饥饿索赔者。但归根结底,这是一条极其短暂的道路。”
“我知道妈妈会认为我的钻石新月是一种可怕的奢侈,”基蒂撅起嘴说道。 “但是你是唯一的儿子,威廉,我们必须像其他人一样行事。”
“亲爱的,别为你的小脑袋烦恼,”他说。 “我会以某种方式处理它。”
确实,他很清楚,在这种事情上,他绝不能以自己懒散随和的脾气来面对与凯蒂真正的金钱斗争。他必须去找他的母亲,现在他的父亲是一个无药可救的病人,他的母亲在他自己和代理人的帮助下管理着庄园。当然,她应该向基蒂说教一下,这是正确的。但她会理智地帮助他们。毕竟钱有的是。为什么凯蒂不应该花掉它?
任何熟悉他的人都可能会注意到他私下在这些问题上的松懈和他在公开场合的严格做法之间存在着一种奇怪的对比。他在涉及他的公共生活的所有财务事务上——董事职位、投资等等——都非常谨慎和谨慎,正如在所有涉及利益和赞助的事务上一样。他将是一个大胆的人,敢于向威廉·阿什提出任何权宜之计,只要他的公共场所可以为他的私人利益服务。事实上,他的骄傲和挑剔的正直是他权力不断增长的源泉之一。但至于私人债务——以及欠下这些债务的商人——他的标准本质上仍然是他的后裔辉格党、负债累累的福克斯或墨尔本的标准,后者在艺术上留下了一篇有趣的论文。将一些面包和鱼以钞票的形式分给众多债权人。
这并不是说事情还很糟糕。离得很远。但埃斯特雷夫人已经没有什么多余的了,事实上,她应该什么都不缺。艾什正模模糊糊地思考着要如何回答那位女士,这时他们附近一辆试图排队的马车上的一张脸引起了他的注意。
“玛丽!”他说:“像约书亚爵士和母亲一样。他们看不到我们。请问,克利夫今晚会采取行动吗?母亲报告说,他的热情明显增加了。抱歉,亲爱的,你不同意!”
“这就像点燃一盏灯然后把它熄灭一样——仅此而已!”基蒂活泼地说。 “娶了玛丽的男人就完蛋了。”
“一点也不。玛丽的钱将为他提供他想要的基座,并相信克里夫之后会照顾好自己的个性!现在,如果您将闹钟转移到 玛丽, 我和你在一起!”
“哦!的 课程 他会对她不友善。她可能会为此负责。但这是 结婚 她!”凯蒂的上唇慢慢地翘起,露出轻蔑的神色。
威廉笑了出来。
“基蒂,真的!——请你让我想起简·泰勒小姐:
“‘我没想到能找到——一颗小小的心这么硬!’
玛丽三十岁了;她想结婚。那么为何不?她会尽力而为。”
“好吧,她不会得到——任何东西。杰弗里·克利夫只考虑他自己。”
艾希的眉毛扬了起来。
“哦,好吧,所有的男人都是自私的——而女人并不介意。”
“这取决于如何完成,”基蒂说。
阿什宣称克利夫只是一个普通人,“l'homme sensuel moyen”——带有一丝天才。除此之外,不比其他人更好,也不比其他人差。那么呢?这个世界并不是由像奥尔索普勋爵和格莱斯顿先生那样具有巨大美德的人组成的。如果玛丽想要他做丈夫,并且能够抓住他,那么在他看来,两人都几乎得到了他们的应得。
然而基蒂却陷入了沉思,之后她让他看到了一张与她近来多次向他展示过的同样惊人的甜蜜的脸。
“你想让我对她好一点吗?”她依偎在他身边。
“夫人,把她绑在你的车轮上!你可以!”艾什说,伸出一只手握住她的手。
凯蒂沉思着。
“好吧,那我就不告诉她我 知道 他仍然爱着那个法国女人。但它就在我的舌尖上。”
“天!”艾什叫道。 “D子爵夫人——诗中的女士?但她已经死了!我以为这件事很久以前就结束了。”
凯蒂沉默了片刻,低声强调道:
“任何人都可以写出这些诗,然后 认为 玛丽!”
“是的,这些诗很好,”阿什说,“但都是虚构的!”
凯蒂愤怒地抗议。阿什开玩笑说她是塑造克利夫的女性之一。
“你爱说什么就说吧!”她说,急促地吸了一口气。 “但是,他经常说一些神圣的话——神圣的!我感觉到它们就在那里!”她冲动地把双手举到胸前。
“女神!”艾什一边说,一边亲吻她的手,因为她的热情让她浑身充满了热情。 “想到我居然敢把神圣的人放在一 时 今天早上的信!”
当艾什和凯蒂到达时,约克郡别墅的大厅和楼梯上已经挤满了形形色色、气势磅礴的人群。凯蒂仍然裹在斗篷里,挤了过去,与朋友们互相问候,为了弓箭和箭袋的安全,她时不时地尖叫一声,她的脸因高兴和兴奋而涨得通红。然后她消失在衣帽间里,艾什想知道他将如何忍受晚上炎热的天气,并与海军部议会秘书交换了一两句笑声,他加入了他的陪伴。已经跌倒了。
“我们这样做是为了什么?”他问年轻人,他瘦弱的身材被一件都铎王朝的裙子衬托得很好。
“哎哟,别逞强啊!”另一个说。 “我要像个小学生一样享受生活!”
事实上,这似乎是在场大多数人的态度。不仅仅是这家令人眼花缭乱的公司的年轻成员。当艾什混入人群时,最令他印象深刻的是年长者的敏捷。这是一位年近七十的著名律师,穿着大法官的高祖装束。这里是一位前爱尔兰总督,他的儿子在政府任职,他穿着伊丽莎白时代的礼服,华丽的浓密头发和红色胡须在上衣上闪闪发光,上衣上闪闪发光的珠宝是伊丽莎白亲手送给他的家族创始人的。他旁边是一位穿着加斯科因法官长袍的白发法官。一个同辈,不年轻,在他身边,穿着马扎林的红蓝相间的衣服:每个人都表现出快乐而自满的样子,这显然是以前男性对华丽衣服的喜悦的复兴,这种喜悦在那个古老的世界中奇怪地结束了在拿破仑崛起的废墟上。对于年长的妇女来说也是如此。这一夜,他们又年轻了。他们可以自由地从各个年龄段选择适合自己的衣服;在许多情况下,这种长期放弃的渴望的更新的结果是唤起过去的自我,以及那些以美丽为主要关注的岁月的语气和姿态。
而男青年、女青年、少女们,他们的眼神和动作中都闪烁着表演的热情和愉悦,并蔓延到大厅和拥挤的楼梯上,就像一种温暖而富有感染力的气氛。事实上,古今中外,贵族阶层都能够因自己的辉煌、财富、美貌和积累的财富而获得这种纯粹的快乐。是否在彼特拉克参观过的威尼斯;或者在文艺复兴时期教皇的罗马;在大君主的凡尔赛宫;或者在今天的佛罗伦萨,仍然时不时地 党 在其中再现了五世纪的所有服装。
在这个英国案例中,尊严比拉丁国家少了一些,而个人美感却多了一些。也许少了一些优雅,但却更丰富、更浪漫。
楼梯顶上站着一位侯爵,穿着意大利文艺复兴时期的礼服,是一位曾为提香坐过的冈萨加人。在他旁边是亨利埃塔·玛丽亚的金发妻子,穿着白色缎子和珍珠首饰。走上大理石楼梯,上方一群人大笑起来,熙熙攘攘的庚斯博罗女孩和雷诺兹妇女,来自伊丽莎白宫廷的妇女,或亨利·夸特,玛丽亚·特蕾莎,或玛丽·安托瓦内特,荷尔拜因和范戴克的人物,文艺复兴时期的佛罗伦萨人,卡帕乔的青春,提香和委罗内塞的美人。
“小猫,快点!”当凯蒂开始上楼梯时,前面有一个声音喊道。 “你的方格舞刚刚叫到了。”
凯蒂微笑着点点头,但脚步却没有加快一秒。楼梯不像以前那么拥挤,当她爬上楼梯时,她很清楚,她苗条的身材被拉到了最高点,她的眼睛闪烁着对画廊里的人的问候和挑战,她长矛上的钻石天才在她上方闪闪发光,她主持了舞台,没有她,戏剧就不会开始。
事实上,她的衣着、她的才华和她的美丽让人议论纷纷——但并不总是友好的。
“她是什么?” “哦,神话般的东西!她在下一个四方舞中。” “亲爱的,她是戴安娜!看看她的弓和箭袋,还有她头发上的月亮。” “非常不正确!——她应该拥有那顶高耸的王冠!” “荒唐,这么小事就去尝试戴安娜!我会支持阿克泰翁!”
后一句话是在路易斯·哈曼耳边说的,他站在旁听席上,低头看着。但哈曼摇了摇头。
“你不明白。当然,她不是希腊人;她是希腊人。但她是仙境。文艺复兴时期的孩子在树林里做梦时,会看到阿尔忒弥斯盛装打扮、闪闪发光、梦幻般,就像佛罗伦萨人看到维纳斯一样。也很小,像仙女一样!——从树叶中溜走;带着宝石项圈的小猎犬,跟着她!”
他对自己的幻想微笑,仍然用画家的眼睛看着凯蒂。
“她在某处看到了一幅法国版画,”站在附近的克利夫说。 “我想,这里更像是凡尔赛宫而不是仙境!”
“它是 她 那是仙境。”哈曼说道,他仍然着迷。
克利夫的表情流露出他内心的讽刺。也许是仙女!——带着所有传统都归因于小人物的恶意和非人性的恶作剧。为什么在第一次见面之后,几分钟的谈话几乎让他们陷入了最亲密的深渊,她却在其他客厅和其他场合如此轻视他?她居然敢对他说出自己的秘密,竟然忽视了他,避开了他!而现在艾什早上的信,又重新燃起了他对这对太富裕、太嚣张的人的怨恨。中风在 时 他知道,他已经回家了;他的虚荣心在它的底下翻滚,当他看到阿什爬到他妻子身后时,他的反击欲望折磨着他,她是如此英俊、漫不经心、彬彬有礼,手里拿着镶满宝石的帽子。
众神和女神的方阵结束了。基蒂一直在和笨手笨脚的马尔斯跳舞,在日常生活中,马尔斯是一个诚实的士兵和猎鹿人,苏格兰公国的继承人。像她一样 面对面的人 玛德琳·阿尔科特(Madeleine Alcot)——饰演波提切利《春天》中的植物群——身着梦幻般的文艺复兴盔甲,苗条如水星。事实上,万神殿的所有神灵都在那里,但以法国化或意大利化的形式存在。几乎没有一点真正的古董,除了一个美丽的女孩,她穿着一件白色的朱诺连衣裙,裙子上的褶皱是由当时刚定居在这个国家的年轻荷兰画家阿尔玛·塔德玛先生为她安排的。基蒂一开始很羡慕她;然后认为她自己穿这样的礼服不会产生任何效果,并对她表示冷漠的赞扬。
令基蒂非常遗憾的是,当音乐停止,闪闪发光的神仙们融入人群时,她发现她身后有一排舞者正在等待接下来的卡德里尔舞。这将完全由复活的英国画组成——雷诺兹、盖恩斯伯勒和罗姆尼——并由那些最初为他们的家庭画这些画的人跳舞。当她后退一步,急切地左右张望时,她遇到了玛丽·莱斯特。玛丽把头发高高地扎着,扑了粉——白色缎子外面围着一条黑色丝巾,系着一条蓝色腰带。
“太棒了!”基蒂说道,向她点点头。 “你是谁?”
“我的曾曾姨妈!”玛丽礼貌地说。 “看来你还往前走。”
“这不是很有趣吗?”基蒂在她身边停下来说道。 “你看到威廉了吗?好可怜!他太热了。你好吗?”这最后一次漫不经心的问候是对克利夫说的,她现在看到克利夫站在玛丽身后。
克利夫僵硬地鞠了一躬。
“打扰一下。我没有看到你。我全神贯注于你的衣服。我明白了,你就是阿尔忒弥斯——还有一些补充。”
“哦!我是‘巴黎文章’,”基蒂说。 “但有些人竟然把我当成圣女贞德,这似乎很奇怪。”然后她转向玛丽。 “我觉得你这件衣服很漂亮!”她用那种温暖、害羞的声音说道,除了几个亲密的人之外,她很少使用这种声音,而且从来没有人知道她在玛丽身上浪费了时间。 “克利夫先生,你不觉得非常钦佩吗?”
“非常大,”克利夫说,拉着他的小胡子。 “但现在我的赞美已经过时了。”
“他对威廉的信生气了吗?”基蒂想。 “好吧,让他们自己处理吧。”
然后,当她经过他身边时,这个男人沉默寡言的性格中的某种东西吸引了她。她忍不住回头看了他一眼。 “你是——哦!当然,我记得——”因为她认出了这位西班牙贵族的衣服和帽子。
克利夫有一会儿没有回答,但他脸上的严厉意味又让她恢复了那天他在希尔街吃午饭时对他产生的令人兴奋的兴趣。从那一天起,在她身上笼罩着的平静和家庭的和平的影响下,这种兴趣被抹去了并消失了。
“毫无疑问,我应该为没有采纳你的建议而道歉,”他看着她的眼睛说道。他们的表情一半痛苦,一半傲慢,提醒着她。
“我给过你什么建议吗?”凯蒂皱起了白皙的眉毛。 “我不记得了。”
玛丽怀疑地敏锐地看着她。基蒂很清楚这种表情,立刻被一种精灵般的好奇心所刺痛。她能把他带走——当场给玛丽的财产带来麻烦吗?她相信她可以。她很清楚自己和克利夫之间存在某种关系,如果她至少选择发展这种关系的话。她应该吗?她的虚荣心坚持认为玛丽无法阻止它。
不过,她还是克制住了自己,继续前行。不久她回头一看,发现他们还在一起,克利夫靠在半身像的基座上,玛丽在他身边。她的眼睛里充满了活力,脸颊上浮现出一朵快乐的玫瑰花,这让基蒂突然产生了一种奇怪的同情心。 “我 am 一只小野兽!”她对自己说。 “她为什么不应该高兴呢?”
然后,她看到特兰莫尔夫人在舞厅的尽头,便在一群形形色色的朋友的簇拥下朝那里走去。她走路就像在空中一样,“影响力如雨”。当特兰莫尔夫人看到钻石新月的光芒,看到它下面的小神性时,她也像基蒂游行中的其他观众一样高兴地微笑着。这件衣服非常昂贵。她知道这一点。但她忘记了威廉的口袋受到的侵犯,只记得为威廉的妻子感到骄傲。事实上,自从帕勒姆夫妇的聚会、基蒂出人意料的屈服以及威廉的前景明朗以来,特兰莫尔夫人本身就对她的儿媳妇很贴心。
但她精致的脸庞和眉宇却依然皱着眉头。她本人作为阿拉贡的凯瑟琳,在任何场景中都会表现出尊严,但她对自己所看到的并不表示同情。
“我们很快就会为这种事情感到羞耻,”她向基蒂宣称。 “就像人们现在开始为巨大的房屋和大批仆人感到羞耻一样。”
“不谢谢!只是对他们感到无聊而已!”基蒂说。 “现在有很多其他自娱自乐的方式——仅此而已。”
“好吧,这种方式将会消失,”特兰莫尔夫人说。 “它的代价太可耻了——人们的良心刺痛着他们。”
基蒂发誓她不相信房间里有良心。然后,当音乐响起时,她带着她的同伴走到了一些台阶上,俯瞰着巨大的大理石画廊,在那里他们可以更好地看到两排舞者。
据说,作为一个民族,英国人没有选美的天赋。然而,时不时地——毫无疑问,在伊丽莎白时代的面具中——它们在艺术中表现出一种奇怪的幸福感。当然,即使在成熟的时代和盛大的祖国,接下来的舞蹈也很难被超越。左边,排着长队,主要由刚绽放的年轻女孩组成,她们打扮成盖恩斯伯勒和他伟大的同时代人高兴地画出这些英格兰的花朵——纯白色平纹细布的褶皱穿过年轻的胸部,黑色天鹅绒在年轻的胸前。脖子上的玫瑰花,头发上的一朵玫瑰花,简单的裙子露出小尖脚,有时还有一条宽腰带,勾勒出纤细的腰部。这里有斯坦利、霍华德、珀西、维利尔斯、巴特勒、奥斯本——这些女孩的名字都带有英格兰粗犷而动荡的青年的名字,今晚她们带着羞涩或笑意的尊严,仿佛历史和浪漫的气息正在显现。他们。面对他们的是同一个家庭的年轻人,他们的英俊不亚于他们的姐妹和新娘——穿着罗姆尼的蓝色外套,或者雷诺兹和庚斯博罗的绚丽红色。
舞厅的拱形屋顶和上墙充满了无数的蜡烛,舞者们在舞厅里来回摇摆。每当线条分开时,他们就会在另一端展现出另一场盛会,而舞蹈实际上是从属于这场盛会的——一座悬挂着蓝色和银色的讲台,上面有一位皇家女士,她的美丽,当时正值首次绽放,令人惊叹不已。它是国家财产,因为作为“海王的女儿”,她把它作为嫁妆带到了她的第二故国。今晚,她就像一位瓦卢瓦女王,身着珠宝,周围环绕着她的宫廷,当舞者退去时,每个青年和少女似乎都本能地转向她,就像玫瑰转向太阳一样。
“哦,美丽的世界,美丽的世界!”基蒂双手合十,欣喜若狂地自言自语道。 “我如何爱你!-爱 您!”
与此同时,达雷尔和哈曼并排站在舞厅门口附近,在人群允许的情况下向里看。
“景象很奇怪,”哈曼说。 “也许他们把这件事看得太认真了。”
“啊!那是我们英国的上层阶级。”达雷尔冷笑着说道。 “有什么是他们轻视的吗?——举例来说! 在我看来,他们比大多数人都更擅长这种娱乐。他们可能很蠢,但他们长得好看。我说,艾什”——他转向刚刚向他们走来的新来者——“在这个特殊的场合,可以祝贺你获得凯蒂女士的礼服吗?”
因为凯蒂站在她的台阶上,此刻就在众目睽睽之下。
艾什做了一些轻微的回应,哪怕是最轻微的回应,也确实让脸皮薄、病态、时刻警惕着冒犯的达雷尔感到恼火。但路易斯·哈曼碰巧看到副国务卿看向他妻子的眼神,自言自语道:“乔治!毕竟,酷儿婚姻的结果很好。”
人们跳了都铎王朝和玛丽·安托瓦内特的四方舞。空气中流传着要吃晚饭的谣言。
“威廉!”基蒂在一间客厅里遇见他时,在他耳边说道:“休伯特勋爵带我去吃晚饭。可怜的我!”她做出一副夸张自怜的表情,然后继续往前走。休伯特勋爵是这个家族的儿子之一,是一个愚蠢又不善言辞的守卫,是基蒂的屁股和憎恶。艾什对自己的命运笑了笑,然后回到舞厅寻找自己的女士。
与此同时,基蒂在隔壁的客厅里停了下来,打发走了她的追随者。
“我答应在这里等休伯特勋爵,”她说。 “你继续吧,不然就没有桌子了。”
她强行挥手让他们走开。客厅是一间面向花园的套房,暂时变得稀疏起来。基蒂在一种快乐的疲惫中,迷迷糊糊地靠在一扇开着的窗户的窗台上,看着下面明亮的空间。彩灯之中,梦想与幻想的身影来来往往。中间闪烁着火焰色的喷泉。空中飘荡着施特劳斯华尔兹的声音。花园和树木的另一边传来伦敦沉闷的喧嚣声。
丝绸窗帘在西风的吹拂下飘进房间,然后又回来,把凯蒂包裹在窗帘的褶皱里。她躲在那里,像个孩子一样自娱自乐,想着要惊吓那只大鹅,休伯特勋爵。
突然,一道熟悉的声音传入了她的耳中。有两个人路过,徘徊不去,没有发现她。凯蒂在第一次自我表露之后,听到了自己的名字,一动不动地站着。
“嗯,你当然听说过我们成功了,”帕勒姆夫人说。 “凯蒂女士这一次表现得规矩了!”
“你真幸运!”玛丽·莱斯特说。 “特兰莫尔女士非常焦虑——”
“免得她最后把我们砍了?”帕勒姆夫人喊道。 “嗯,当然,凯蒂女士‘很有能力’。”她笑道。 “但也许作为你的表弟,我不应该说这些话。”
“哦,你爱怎么说就怎么说吧,”玛丽说。 “我不是基蒂的朋友,也从未假装是。”
帕勒姆夫人显然走近了一些,秘密地说:“到底是什么让那个男人娶了她?他可能已经和任何人结婚了。她没有钱,比没有职位更糟糕。”
“当然,她对他的怜悯起了很大作用。我早些时候在格罗斯维尔公园见过他们。她的牌打得很巧妙。然后,这正是正确的时刻。特兰莫尔夫人一直在催促他结婚。”
“嗯,当然,”帕勒姆夫人说,“不可否认它的美丽。”
“你这么认为吗?”玛丽似乎很惊讶地说道。 “好吧,我从来没有看到过。现在她已经发生了很多事情。”
“我不同意你的观点。许多人认为她是今晚的明星。据我所知,克利夫先生很欣赏她。”
基蒂看不到说话者戴着约书亚爵士头巾,在说出这句话时,她的眼睛是如何审视莱斯特小姐的面容的。
玛丽笑了。
“可怜的基蒂!很久以前,她就试图和他调情——就在她刚从修道院出来到达伦敦之后。太搞笑了!他后来告诉我,他一生中从未如此尴尬过——这个婴儿向他眨眼!而现在——哦不!”
“为什么不是现在?凯蒂女士非常风靡,而克利夫先生则喜欢出名。
“但是臭名昭著——嗯,有某种风格,某种区别!凯蒂这种人真是廉价又愚蠢。”
“啊,好吧,她不应该被鄙视,”帕勒姆夫人说。 “她非常聪明。但她的丈夫必须让她保持秩序。”
“他可以?”玛丽说。 “她不会一直妨碍他吗?”
“我总是应该思考。但他一定知道自己在做什么。为什么他的母亲不干涉?这样的家庭!——这样的历史!”
“她确实干涉了,”玛丽说。 “我们都尽力了”——她压低了声音——“我知道我做到了。但没有用。我想,如果男人喜欢被宠坏的孩子,他们就一定要养孩子。希望他能学会如何管理她。我们继续吧?我答应在图书馆和我的晚餐伙伴见面。”
他们搬走了。
有几分钟,凯蒂站在那里,一动不动地向外张望,但她的心跳使她窒息。奇怪的祖先事物——邪恶的事物——激情的事物——仿佛突然从她生命深处的沉睡中苏醒,冲向她生命的堡垒。她从头到脚都发生了变化。她的血管在燃烧。
就在这时,她转过身来,看见杰弗里·克利夫走进了她所站的房间。她以一个急躁的动作向他走近。
“带我下去吃晚饭吧,克利夫先生。我不能再等休伯特勋爵了,我 so 饥饿的!”
“着迷了!”克利夫低头看着女神,晒黑的脸上泛起红晕。 “但我来发现——”
“莱斯特小姐?哦,她和达雷尔先生一起去了。跟我来。我有一张预订帐篷的票。我们将拥有属于自己的美味角落。”
她从手套里拿出那块令人垂涎的小纸板,秘密地交给了家里的几个密友,让她可以进入当晚的至圣所。
克里夫动摇了。然后他的虚荣心屈服了。几分钟后,晚餐的客人在帐篷里。 精英 看见一位肤色黝黑、光彩照人的阿尔瓦公爵带着一位穿着凉鞋的小女神进来了。他的手臂上似乎全是象牙色和火焰的紧凑形状。
伦敦的春天气息早已远去。拥挤的季节;议会中充满了活力,令政府自己惊讶的是,议会中的阵地非但没有失利,反而取得了进展。国内有产业困难,国外有外交风波;在伦敦,新的富豪统治正在稳步增长,这是迄今为止美国财富和美国新娘的结果。七月的第一周,任何细心的观察者都可能对当时的外在事物做出这样的总结。
某周二晚上,一项私人议员法案的辩论意外失败,众议院早早起床。艾什和他的秘书离开了房子,但在鸟笼路的拐角处与他分开,独自穿过公园。他打算和基蒂一起参加皮卡迪利的一个聚会;正好有时间回家穿衣服;他走得很快。
与他坐在众议院同一侧的两名议员也准备回家。其中一人注意到了副部长。
“艾什今晚发表的声明非常无效——你不这么认为吗?”他对他的同伴说道。
“非常!事实上,如果政府不能采取更强硬的路线,公众就会开始认为其中有问题。”
“哦,只要你在英格兰尖叫得足够长、足够尖锐,就一定会有结果。克利夫和他的团队一直在玩一场非常精明的游戏。政府肯定会批准他们的协议,但克利夫确实让我们这边的一些人感到不安。然而-”
“但是,什么?”过了一会儿,另一个人说道。
“我希望我认为这是艾什改变语气的唯一原因,”第一位发言者缓慢地说。
“你什么意思?”
两人是亲密的私人朋友,而且属于英国生活中众所周知的一群福音派家庭。但即便如此,答案还是不情愿地传来:
“好吧,你看,在公共场合与这个聪明的伦敦人打架并不容易,他的名字恰好与你妻子的名字连在一起!”
“我说”——另一个人一动不动地站着,带着真正的惊愕和痛苦——“你该不会是说里面有那个吧!”
“你注意到差异不在于 什么 阿什说,但是在 形成一种 他这么说。他避免与克利夫发生任何人身冲突。政府坚持他们的观点,但阿什提到了除了克利夫之外的所有人,并反驳了除他之外的所有论点。当然,与此同时,事实是克利夫是竞选活动的领导者和前线,如果他明天呕吐,一切都会平静下来。”
“凯蒂女士在这个特殊时刻正在和他调情?至少可以说,该死的品味和感觉都很糟糕!”
“你不会发现布里斯托尔的任何一个人在热血沸腾的时候都会考虑这种事情!”另一个说。 “你还记得老黑水勋爵的故事吗?”
“但这真的有道理吗?还是只是闲言碎语?”
“好吧,我听说他们俩上周在格罗斯维尔公园的行为如此恶劣,以至于格罗斯维尔夫人发誓她再也不会问他们中的任何一个了。在阿斯科特,在洛德剧院,在歌剧中,基蒂夫人一直和他坐在一起,和他说话,和他一起散步,不看任何其他人。他们必须一起被邀请,否则谁都不会来——据我所知,‘社会’认为这是一个很好的笑话,并且总是制定计划将他们放在一起。”
“特兰莫尔夫人就不能做点什么吗?”
“我不知道。他们说她对此非常不满。当然,她看起来病了,而且很沮丧。”
“艾希呢?”
他的同伴犹豫了。 “我不想这么说,但是,当然,你知道有很多人会告诉你,阿什不在乎他的妻子做什么,只要她对他好,他可以读懂他的想法。”读书并随心所欲地继续他的政治!”
“阿什总是给我留下荣誉的灵魂,”另一个人愤怒地说。
“当然——为了他自己。但比阿什更相信自由的宿命论者并不存在——尤其是诅咒自己的自由——如果你必须并且愿意的话。”
“很难把这个教义推广到妻子身上,”另一个人说道,脸上带着严肃、不舒服的笑声。
与此同时,他们一直在讨论事务的那个男人走回家,沉浸在孤独和令人不愉快的想法中。当他接近马尔伯勒庄园街角时,一辆马车从他身边驶过。车被其他马车耽搁了一会儿,当车停在他身边时,艾什认出了M女士——,舞会的女主人,也是他父母的老朋友。他摘下帽子。里面的女士认出了他,并微微倾斜——非常轻微且僵硬。艾什稍微吃了一惊,然后继续往前走。
会议生动地回忆起那场舞会, 总站 事实上,他自从进入公园以来一直陷入的冥想就是从这里开始的。六到七周前,是吗?这可能已经是一个世纪了。他想起了那天晚上的凯蒂——穿着闪闪发光的裙子的凯蒂旋转着,或者俯身在男孩身上,或者当他在楼梯上亲吻她时,把脸贴在他的脸上。从那以后,她再也没有向他展示过这样的心情。她和他自己到底出了什么问题?自五月以来,有些事情让他们的生活发生了翻天覆地的变化,在艾什看来,在这些无利可图的忙碌中,他从来没有时间停下来问自己这可能是什么。
无论如何,为什么 he 在这种擦伤的刺激和不适中?为什么他不能以应有的方式对待克利夫那个家伙?还有,到底是什么原因让M女士这样的老朋友开始冷漠地看着他,并回避他的谈话呢?
他的母亲也是!他推测最近她和基蒂之间发生了一些不愉快的事情。基蒂对她的一些抗议感到不满,所以他们已经好几天没有见面了。艾什也没有单独见过他的母亲。她是否也回避他,不敢向他说出自己的真实想法?
嗯,这一切都太荒谬了!——就主要事实而言,这完全是无稽之谈,尽管这件事的烦恼和担忧确实变得严重了。毫无疑问,基蒂非常喜欢杰弗里·克里夫——
“还有,乔治!”艾什停下脚步说道,“她警告过我。”
他的记忆中浮现出格罗斯维尔公园的规整花园、他身边的小身影,以及基蒂的坦率——“我会对人们抱有疯狂的幻想。我无能为力。我现在有一个,献给杰弗里·克利夫。”
他笑了。困难就来了!如果现在那些羡慕不已的人能够看到基蒂的本来面目,能够理解她和普通“快”女人之间的鸿沟,这种愚蠢、恶意的谈话就会结束。其他女人可能是土质的。基蒂是一个精灵,具有这种无法估量的生物的所有不负责任。那些男人和女人——尤其是女人——他们对她八卦和撒谎,他们向下流的报纸发送令人厌恶的段落——他现在口袋里有一封是从一位匿名记者那里从众议院传到他的——说出了他们自己的卑鄙经历,用他们自己的标准来评价她。无论如何,他自豪地想,他的母亲应该知道自己不能被他们误导。
与此同时,必须做点什么。不可否认的是,基蒂在这个肆无忌惮的男人面前表现得像个浪漫而易激动的孩子,她可能完全不知道这个男人对女人的记录,无论她多么愚蠢地将男人理想化。 联络 并在他的诗中予以纪念。这六个星期里,基蒂到底做了什么?艾什试图回忆起它们的细节。阿斯科特、勋爵、伦敦和乡村的无数聚会,由于议会和官方工作的压力,他未能陪同她参加其中一些聚会。例如,格罗斯维尔公园——由于一些重要的外国新闻的到来,他在最后一刻被阻止去那里,基蒂独自一人去了。周一,她再次出现,脸色苍白,愤怒不已,她说她和姨妈吵架了,她再也不会去城里或乡村靠近格罗斯维尔一家了。她没有主动提出任何进一步的解释,艾什也没有询问。他身上有某种厌恶和蔑视,属于他普遍的享乐主义的存在观念,甚至连他对基蒂的爱也无法克服。一是对女人吵架的不屑。他认为这是不可避免的。顺便说一句,他看到基蒂和帕勒姆夫人再次剑拔弩张。基蒂似乎很享受这样的感觉。好吧,这是她自己的事。但是,当有希腊戏剧、莎士比亚十四行诗、甚至蓝皮书可供阅读时,谁能指望他会听呢?
老格罗斯维尔夫人到底在做什么?他知道克利夫是其中一员。基蒂肯定做了什么事情,激怒了清教徒家里的女主人。
那么,他该怎么办呢?现在是七月。会议肯定会持续到八月中旬,虽然美国的生意会直接处理掉,但巴尔干半岛又出现了新的麻烦,埃及局势也焦灼不安。他不可能想到离开他的职位。至于解散的可能性,政府现在比复活节前强大得多——更糟糕的是!
他当然应该把Kitty带走。但如果不辞职,该怎么办呢?甚至,辞职会做什么——假设, 每个不可能,可以这样想——但是给啃咬八卦一块更大的骨头,可能会激怒凯蒂到叛逆的地步?但如何诱使她跟别人在一起呢?特兰莫尔夫人是不可能的。也许是玛格丽特·弗伦奇?
然后,突然,艾什内心发出一阵笑声,空洞而令人不安。事情进展得很顺利,他甚至梦想着辞职,因为一个他所鄙视的男人会出没在他的房子里,并吸收他妻子的陪伴。而且,他甚至想不出解决这种情况的办法,而不会对基蒂的脾气——基蒂狂野而愤怒的脾气——感到沮丧。
因为在艾什看来,过去两周里,所有的暴风雨都吹过他的房子。他自己,仆人们,甚至玛格丽特,甚至那个孩子,都遭受了痛苦。他还发过好几次脾气,这样的事他从小到大都很少发生过。他认为这是一种身体上的污点或弱点。保持一颗平静、坚忍的心,在无法征服的地方笑一笑——在他看来,这始终是体面存在的首要条件。现在却为了一笔开支、一份订婚、一封信,甚至微不足道的事情而争吵——无论今天是好天气还是坏天气——还有什么比这更琐碎、有辱人格、更难以忍受的事情呢?
他发誓这应该停止。不管发生什么,他和基蒂都不应该沦为一对骂人的人——用丑陋又愚蠢的争吵来玷污他们的生活。他会和她摔跤,他心爱的、不讲理的、愚蠢的凯蒂。当然,他以前就应该这样做。但直到最近一周左右,地平线才突然变暗——事情变得严重了。现在这个可怕的段落!但归根结底,这些垃圾有什么关系呢?殴打编辑当然是一种安慰。但我们的现代生活孕育了这样的生物,而且必须忍受它们。
他走进一间寂静的房子。他的信放在大厅的桌子上。其中有一个字迹吸引了他。他记得,但无法说出它的名字。然后他翻转了信封。 “嗯。格罗斯维尔夫人!”他站在那里读了一遍,然后把它塞进口袋,愤怒地想,这个世界上似乎有很多傻瓜只顾别人的事。夸张当然是可恶的 人民党!她什么时候见过基蒂,除了带着黄疸的眼睛? “真奇怪基蒂竟然屈尊去那个女人家!她一定知道她所做的一切都在那里被看到 黑色。法利赛人,心胸狭隘的庸人!”
这封信起到了补药的作用。艾什非常感谢写这本书的“老戈尔贡”。他跑上楼,心跳加速,为凯蒂辩护。他要向格罗斯维尔夫人表明,无论如何,她不能以这种语气给他写信而不受惩罚。
他从楼梯平台拿了一支蜡烛,打开妻子的门,穿过她的房间回到自己的房间。当他这么做的时候,他撞上了凯蒂的女仆布兰奇,后者正从里面出来。当她看到他时,她退缩了,但在他的烛光完全照在她身上之前,她就退缩了。她的脸因泪水而毁容,事实上,泪水仍在从她的脸颊上流下来。
“为什么,布兰奇!”他一动不动地站着说——然后用仆人们喜欢的和蔼的声音说道——“恐怕你的兄弟更糟?”
因为住院的可怜弟弟自从动手术以来,经历了许多沧桑,小丫鬟的精神也随之起伏不定。
“噢,不,先生——不,先生!”布兰奇擦干眼睛说道,然后退到房间的阴影里,那里只燃烧着微弱的煤气火焰。 “不是这样的,先生,谢谢你。我只是在收拾女士夫人的东西。”她环视房间,语无伦次地说。
“这并不是导致眼泪的原因,是吗?”艾什微笑着说道。 “有什么需要我和凯蒂女士帮忙的吗?”
这个在他看来一直和基蒂关系很好的女孩突然抽泣起来。
“谢谢你,先生;我刚刚向她发出了女士警告。”
“的确!”艾什严肃地说。 “对此我感到很抱歉。我以为你在这里相处得很好。”
“我以前是这样的,先生,但是最近几周,没有什么能让夫人高兴的事情。你什么都做不了。我确信我已经把手放开了。但我不能再做更多的事情了。也许夫人会找到更适合她的人。”
“夫人没有劝你留下来吗?”
“是的——但是——我之前警告过一次,然后我就留下来了。而且这样也不好。看来你一定做错了。我不睡觉,先生。这会让你很紧张。但我并没有抱怨的意思。晚安先生。”
“晚安。别为你的情妇坐立不安。你看起来很累。我会帮助她的。”
“谢谢先生。”女仆低声说道,然后就走了。
半小时后,阿什登上了皮卡迪利一栋著名住宅的楼梯。晚会开始变得稀疏,但在侧客厅里,一支优秀的奥地利乐队正在演奏施特劳斯的作品,家里的一些密友也在跳舞。
阿什立刻认出了他的妻子。她正在和一位聪明的剑桥小伙子跳舞,他是玛德琳·阿尔科特的表弟,也是她长期以来的崇拜者之一。场面如此迷人,两人的青春和美丽如此令人兴奋,阿什立即怀疑事实真相,聚集在房间里的大多数人都是为了看凯蒂跳舞,而不是自己跳舞。他自己也看着她,尽管他自称是在和女主人说话,女主人是一位中年妇女,眼神诚实,眉毛威严。
“很高兴看到凯蒂女士跳舞,”她微笑着对他说。 “但她累了。我确信她想要这个国家。”
“就像我的儿子一样,”阿什说。 “我希望他们都能走。”
“哦,我知道丢下丈夫在城里辛苦劳作是很难受的!”他的同伴说,她是政治家的女儿、妻子和母亲,有着长期的官场生活经历。
艾什看了她一眼——看着她那张因善良而严谨的生活而塑造的脸——突然从紧张中解脱出来。显然她没有听到任何流言蜚语。他在她身边徘徊,纯粹是为了与她交谈的乐趣。但他们的 座谈沟通,特特 很快,帕勒姆夫人的到来就打断了她的到来,她带着一个女儿——一个苗条、沉默寡言的女孩,有人低声说,她的母亲在这个季节给了她“最后一次机会”,然后把她送进了乡下,认为她是个失败者。把她的妹妹带了出来。
帕勒姆夫人热情洋溢地向女主人打招呼。那是一所富裕的房子,据说这些小型、非正式的舞蹈比大型事务更有利于婚姻的发展。然后她看到了艾什,整个人的态度都变了。有一种很明显的毛骨悚然,她故意漫不经心地向他打了招呼。
“欺负这女人了!”艾什想道,他的自豪感油然而生。
“和平常一样努力工作吗,帕勒姆女士?”他微笑着问她。
“如果你愿意这么说的话,”他生硬地回答道。 “当然,还有很多外出活动。”
“如果可以的话,我希望您不要让帕勒姆勋爵做得太过分。”
“帕勒姆勋爵一生中从来没有这么好过,”帕勒姆勋爵的妻子说道,语气中带着平息无礼的神情。
“那是好消息。我必须说,当我今天下午见到他时,我认为他似乎对自己的工作很有感觉。”
“哦,他很担心,”帕勒姆夫人尖锐地说。 “担心很多事情。”她突然转过身来,看着自己的同伴——一种傲慢而刻意的眼神。
“啊,这就是妻子们进来的地方!”艾希泰然自若地回答道。 “看看洛兰夫人。她拥有完美的艺术——不是吗?她给 Loraine 垫枕头的方式真是太棒了。”
帕勒姆夫人气得满脸通红。她把自己和她拖着丈夫经历的不断喧嚣的社会事件进行了比较——从而进行了一场她自己的粗俗运动,与他一样艰巨,而且更加雄心勃勃——与温柔的洛兰夫人的方式和性格之间的比较,全神贯注于她所崇拜的男人,对世界其他地方心不在焉、心不在焉,但对他来说,他是一个庇护和保护的天使——这并不是第一次传到首相的妻子那里。 。但即使她已经准备好了,她也没有机会反驳,因为音乐停止了,舞者的浪潮涌向门口。这让基蒂突然与帕勒姆夫人面对面。
“哦!你怎么样?基蒂的语气已经是一种冒犯,她伸出一只小手,带着一种难以形容的帝王气派。
帕勒姆女士只是碰了一下它,从头到脚扫了一眼主人,然后走开了。基蒂溜到艾什身边一会儿,背靠墙,气喘吁吁地笑着。
“我说,基蒂,”艾什弯下身子对着她的小耳朵说话,“我以为帕勒姆夫人永远感激我们。她怎么了?
“只是我无法忍受她,”基蒂说。 “尝试有什么好处?”她抬起头,脸颊上燃起叛逆的火焰。
“什么?”艾什说,感觉自己和她一样鲁莽。 “她的举止超出了界限。但是看这里,基蒂,你不认为你会回家吗?你知道你看起来确实很累。”
基蒂皱起了眉头。
“家?为什么,我才刚刚开始享受自己!请带我到凉爽的地方,”她对那个一直在和她跳舞的男孩说,男孩仍在附近徘徊,以防他的神性允许他再多呆几分钟。但当她伸出手去挽住他的手臂时,艾什看到她在犹豫,突然看向房间的另一边。
一群人聚集在远处的一扇门周围分开,艾什看到了克里夫,他双臂交叉靠在门口。他周围都是漂亮的女人,他似乎正在和她们进行一场戏谑的战争。艾什不由自主地注视着他和基蒂之间的认出。凯蒂的嘴唇动了吗?有信号吗?如果是这样,那一切就像一闪而过;基蒂匆匆离去,留下艾什,他对自己感到傲慢地愤怒,因为他生平第一次扮演了间谍。
他在不安中转身离开了舞厅。他本人也很坦率地享受社会。尤其是自从他结婚以来,他发现和蔼可亲的女人的陪伴是令人愉快的。他本能地去寻找它,并将这种胡言乱语从他的脑海中驱逐出去。然而,就在更大的客厅里,他遇到了玛丽·莱斯特,她显然独自一人坐在角落里。玛丽向他打招呼,但语气明显很冷淡。她的举止让他想起了从房子里走出来时所有的心事。尽管她表现得不太热情,他还是在她旁边坐下,心生愧疚地想知道她的命运到什么时候会怎样,以及基蒂的行为可能已经对他们产生了怎样的影响。但他还没有成功地让她解冻,身后就传来一个声音:
“我想,这是我的舞蹈,莱斯特小姐。我们该坐在哪里呢?”
艾希立刻动了。玛丽抬起头,明显犹豫了一下,然后起身握住杰弗里·克利夫的手臂。
“今晚请读一下你的言论,”克利夫对阿什说。 “好吧,现在,我想明天你的船就会停泊在港口了?”
因为可以合理地预期,美国的协议明天就会得到部长级多数的批准。
“当然。但你至少可以反思一下,你浪费了我们很多时间。”
“现在你杀了我们,”克里夫说。 “呃,好吧-'dulce et dedecum est,'等等。”
“别以为你会获得许多殉难的荣誉,”阿什笑着说。在克利夫眼中,他漫不经心地靠在一个大理石基座上,基座上有霍勒斯·沃波尔的半身像。
“为什么?”克利夫的手本能地伸到了他的小胡子上。玛丽放下了他的手臂,静静地站在他身边,脸色苍白,有些疲惫,她那双漂亮的眼睛在扬声器之间扫视。
“为什么?因为异端没有殉道者。光环是属于真正的教会的!”
“嗯!”克利夫说道,带着沉思的冷笑。 “我想你指的是成功者?”
“我是吗?”艾什满不在乎地说。 “真正的教会不就是那些因事件而称义的人吗?”
“正统派喜欢这样认为,”克利夫说。 “但异教徒有办法脱颖而出。”
“这是否意味着你们会在下次选举中获胜?我衷心希望你能——we都像沟里的水一样陈腐——至于地方,欢迎任何人来我的!”说完,艾什就懒洋洋地走开了,被一位漂亮法国女人的鞠躬和微笑所吸引,与她聊天总是很愉快。
“艾什像往常一样玩弄它,”克利夫说,他和玛丽强行闯入一间较小的房间。 “这世上还有他真正在乎的东西吗?”
玛丽吃惊地看着他。她几乎要说:“是啊!他的老婆。”她才刚刚成功将这句话逼了回来。
“他的漠不关心只是一种假装,”她说。 “至少,特兰莫尔女士是这么认为的。她相信他正在热衷于政治——比她想象的更加雄心勃勃。”
“这就是母亲的方式,”克利夫带着讽刺的口吻说道。 “他们必须充分利用自己的儿子。告诉我这个夏天你打算做什么。”
他用一只手臂搂住椅背,坐在那里俯视着她,无色的金发浓密地垂在额头上,与下面那双漆黑奇特的眼睛形成一种奇怪的非人力量形成鲜明对比。他有办法通过一闪而过的粗俗来吸引女人的注意力,当他选择向一个古老的世界致敬时,这个世界就融化了,这个世界仍然有闲暇、激情和精致,一个仍然在眼前的世界另一个产生了 民事诉讼。也许正是这一点,再加上他外貌上不容置疑的阳刚之气,被沙漠烈日晒伤的脸庞上显示出的顽强的体力耐力,以及对于客厅来说过于瘦削和憔悴的身材的暗示,这使得他把他的咒语保留了下来。
玛丽与他的谈话一开始只是冷冰冰的剑术,后来,正如他所希望的那样,逐渐又回到了一些亲密的语气中。与此同时,每个人都意识到一系列秘密的想法——她关心的是过去六周的努力和挣扎、痛苦的失望和幻灭;她关心的是过去六周的努力和挣扎、痛苦的失望和幻灭;她关心的是过去六周的努力和挣扎、痛苦的失望和幻灭;她关心的是过去六周的努力和挣扎、痛苦的失望和幻灭;她关心的是过去六周的努力和挣扎、痛苦的失望和幻灭;她的关心是她的努力和奋斗、过去六周的痛苦失望和幻灭;她的关心是她的努力和斗争、过去六周的痛苦失望和幻灭;她的关心是她的努力和斗争、过去六周的痛苦失望和幻灭。他的计划是他在东方和回家途中所珍视的计划,与玛丽·莱斯特结婚,或者更准确地说,是玛丽·莱斯特的钱,因此屈服于英国生活中不可避免的无聊。对她来说,精神世界里充满了凯蒂——傲慢的凯蒂,得意洋洋的凯蒂。对他来说,基蒂也构成了思想的背景——然而,周围充满了优柔寡断和抵抗的阴云,如果玛丽能预见到这些,她就会感到幸福。
因为他现在不容易被抓住。他一生中的女人已经够多了,而且绰绰有余。政治游戏从今以后必须以某种方式取代它们,如果确实还有什么值得的,除了马鞍上的漫长一天和人迹罕至的土地上新的早晨的黎明。
所有这些都混杂在一起,夹杂着对艾什的强烈厌恶,对基蒂的迷恋,以及他对她的追求所产生的骚动所带来的一种恶毒的快感。此外,他还彻底地渗透到了对他唯一的真实感受的记忆中,以及那个死去的、疏远他、鄙视他的女人的记忆中。他和玛丽毫无收获地度过了半个小时。他很想安抚她,但他不知道如果安抚达到了,他应该做什么。他想要她的钱,但他开始不安地感到自己付不起费用。他身上的诗人气质依然坚强,尽管它被冒险家所困扰。
他带她回到舞厅。玛丽走在他身边,带着一种迟钝而强烈的错误感。当然,是基蒂干的——基蒂把他从她身边带走了。
“完了,”克利夫自言自语地说,一边长长地松了一口气,一边把她交到了她搭档的手中。 “现在来说另一个!”
从那以后,没有人见过凯蒂,也没有人与她跳舞。她和杰弗里·克利夫一起在开满鲜花的角落或偏僻的客厅里度过了时光。艾什在远处听到过一两次她的声音,回应着他厌恶的声音。他向晚餐室望去,手臂上挽着一位女士,隔着房间,他看到了基蒂,她白皙的手肘撑在桌子上,她的手撑着一张脸,半是嘲弄,但全神贯注地看着克利夫。他看到她掠过远景或消失在远处的门口,但总是伴随着那个邪恶的身影。
他的心分为两种:一种隐秘的愤怒——由一个出身高贵、地位显赫的人的骄傲所激起,他一直掌控着整个世界,而现在却看到了他不知道如何惩罚的无礼行为——和一种讽刺的情绪。克利夫对基蒂的迫害是一种令人困惑的无礼行为。但用这些人用圆圆的、虚伪的眼光来看,实在是太过分了!让他们看看自己的事情吧——他们需要它。
最后聚会散了。当他站在楼梯上时,基蒂碰了碰他的肩膀,显然在她的第一季里,她正沉浸在与一个迷人的孩子的一场戏弄中,孩子认为他是最可爱的男人。
“我准备好了,威廉。”
他猛地回头,发现只有她一个人。
“那就一起来吧!再过五分钟我就应该在楼梯上睡着了。”
他们下降了。凯蒂去拿她的斗篷。艾什派人去叫马车。当他站在台阶上时,克利夫从他身边挤过去,叫了一辆双轮马车。它位于门廊下的两三节车厢的后面。他沿着人行道跑了进去,车门刚刚被联络员关上,一个穿着白斗篷的小身影从房子的台阶上飞了下来,向马车司机伸出了一只手。
“你看到了吗?”帕勒姆夫人转向与她一起开车回家的玛丽·莱斯特,声音中带着压抑而又轻蔑的惊奇。 “请叫我的马车!”她专横地对门口的一名仆人说道。碰巧,她的马车就停在马车后面。但马车无法动弹,因为那个小个子女士跳上了台阶,急切地向前倾身。
一阵喧闹的叫喊声传来:“走吧,出租车司机!继续前行!” “请站开,女士,”司机说道,而克利夫打开了出租车门,似乎又要跳下去了。
“是谁?”帕勒姆夫人身后一位不耐烦的法官说道。 “怎么了?”
帕勒姆夫人耸了耸肩。
“是凯蒂·阿什女士,”那个人低声说道。 见过世面,法官的女儿,“与克利夫先生交谈。她不漂亮吗?”
门廊里的人群突然鸦雀无声。基蒂高亢而清晰的笑声似乎又回响在屋子里。然后艾什跑下台阶。
“凯蒂,别挡路。”他强行将她拉了回来。
克利夫举起帽子,坐回马车上,那人猛地策马。
凯蒂带着艾希回到了外厅。她的脸颊泛着玫瑰色的红晕,她狂野的眼睛嘲笑着台阶上的人群,但并没有真正看到他们。
“你要和帕勒姆夫人一起去吗?”她心不在焉地对玛丽·莱斯特说道。
“是的。”
基蒂抬起头来,艾什看到了她和玛丽对峙时的两张脸——玛丽的轻蔑,基蒂的震惊的愤怒。
“来吧,莱斯特小姐!”帕勒姆夫人说着,推开灰烬店,没有道一声晚安,就匆匆走向马车,尽管夜色温暖,她还是匆匆忙忙地拉起玻璃杯。
有那么一会儿,留在台阶上的人都没有说话,只是低声担心一辆不见踪影的马车。然后艾什看到了自己的新郎,冲他发起进攻,要求他拖延时间。又过了一分钟,他和基蒂就上了马车,门廊下的人影也消失在了视线里。
“我想最好不要再这样做了,基蒂,”阿什说。
基蒂看了他一眼。但无论是语气还是神态,都一如往常。 “我为什么不应该呢?”她傲慢地说;他看到她已经变得很白了。 “我告诉杰弗里去洛德医院哪里可以找到我。”
艾什对教名中的“大天使主义”感到畏缩。
“你让帕勒姆夫人久等了。”
“那有什么关系?”基蒂愤怒地笑道。
“你给了克利夫太多的荣誉,”阿什说。 “应该是男人站在台阶上,而不是女人!”
凯蒂坐直了身子。 “你是什么意思?”她低声威胁地说。
“就是我说的,”笑着回答。
基蒂倒在角落里,在他们回到家之前,她无法张开嘴唇或看她的同伴。
然而,在卧室外的楼梯平台上,她转身说道:“请不要再对我说无礼的话了!”她挺起身子,像最幼稚、最顽固的悲剧女王一样,冲进了自己的房间。
艾什走进他的更衣室。几乎就在那之后,他听到钥匙在将他的房间和基蒂的房间隔开的锁中转动的声音。
结婚以来第一次!他倒在床上,度过了几个小时的不眠之夜。然后疲劳就出现了。当他醒来时,房间里一片灰色的黎明,他意识到有什么东西压在他的床上。他半睡半醒地站起来,看到基蒂穿着一件长长的白色晨衣,蜷缩在地板上,或者更确切地说,坐在枕头上,头靠在床沿上。在对面的一面镜子里,他看到了她那瘦弱的身躯和她那乌云密布的头发,慵懒而优雅。
“基蒂”——他试图让自己清醒过来——“去睡觉吧!”
“躺下,”凯蒂说着,抬起手臂把他压下去,“什么也别说。我要睡觉了。”
他乖乖地躺了下来。不久,他感觉到她的脸颊搁在他的一只手上,半意识中他把另一只手放在她的头发上。然后他们俩都睡着了。
他的梦想是华丽的舞会和一些盛大的场景的混合体,其中艾里斯和谷神星出现,还有少女和牧羊人的乡村舞蹈。然后一阵雷鸣般的低语声传遍了现场,随后一片黑暗。他半梦半醒,浑身热气腾腾,但柔软的脸颊还在那里,他的手仍然摸着丝滑的卷发,睡意又夺回了他的心。
当艾什认真地醒来时,他独自一人。他从床上跳起来,环顾黑暗的房间,为自己睡得太久感到羞愧。但没有看到基蒂的踪迹。
穿好衣服后,他像往常一样敲了敲凯蒂的门。
“哦,进来吧,”基蒂用最轻的声音喊道。 “玛格丽特在这里;但如果你不介意她,她也不会介意你。”
艾希进来了。凯蒂一如往常,七天之中有四天在床上吃早餐。玛格丽特·弗伦奇在她身边,手里拿着一堆纸条,大部分是账单和未回复的邀请,她试图用这些来让基蒂应对。
“对不起,阿什先生,”玛格丽特扬起了笑容。 “我整天要为我哥哥出差,所以我想我应该早点来,提醒凯蒂一些这些令人厌烦的事情,同时还有机会找到她。”
“我不知道守护天使为什么要原谅自己,”艾什在握手时说道。
“哦,天哪,他们的数量真多啊!”基蒂说道,无聊地把纸条扔了过去。 “全部拒绝,玛格丽特;我厌倦了出去吃饭。”
“我想并不是全部,”玛格丽特恳求道。 “这是那个好女人——你记得吗——她想感谢阿什先生为她儿子所做的一切。你答应过要和她一起吃饭的。”
“是吗?”凯蒂恼怒地扭动着身体。 “那么,我想我们必须这样做。威廉为她做了什么?当我要求他为世界上最好的男孩做点什么时,他连一根指头都不会动。”
“我在柏林给他做了一些介绍,”阿什笑着说。 “基蒂,你通常希望我做的就是在公共服务中塞满漂亮的白痴。对此,我实在无法答应你。”
“每个人都知道腐败能招来最优秀的人才,”基蒂说。 “喂,那是什么?”她举起一张餐卡,奇怪地看着它。
“我亲爱的基蒂!什么时候来的?玛格丽特·弗伦奇惊愕地喊道。
这是一张晚宴卡,帕勒姆勋爵和夫人请求基蒂·阿什先生和夫人在七月第一周内的某个日期共进晚餐。
艾希弯下腰去看它。
“我想那是十天前的事,”他平静地说。 “我想凯蒂接受了。”
“从那天到现在我从来没有想过这个问题,”凯蒂说道,她双手抱在脑后,盯着天花板。 “请说,”——她故意间隔开几个词——“先生。”和基蒂·阿什夫人——无法接受——帕勒姆勋爵和夫人的邀请——等等——”
“猫咪!” ”玛格丽特坚定地说,“一定有一种‘遗憾’和一种‘善意’。思考!十天!聚会就在下周!”
“没有‘遗憾’,更没有‘善意’!”基蒂说道,仍然盯着头顶。 “玛格丽特,这完全是我的事。我会在寄出去之前先看看这张纸条,否则你就太客气了。”
玛格丽特绝望地望着艾希。在此之前,他和她经常密谋以减轻基蒂的暴行。但他什么也没说——没有做出哪怕是最小的手势。
玛格丽特费了好大劲才从基蒂那里得到了更多的指示,基蒂现在变得阴郁沉默。然后,她说她会在楼下写下这些字条然后回来,然后收拾起她的篮子信就离开了。
当凯蒂和艾什独处时,她就拿起身边的一本小说,假装全神贯注地读起来。
他犹豫了一会儿,然后弯下腰,握住了她的手。
“凯蒂,你为什么来看我?”他低声说道。
“我不知道。”她冷漠地回答,然后她的手抽回了,尽管不是用暴力。
“我希望我能理解你,基蒂。”他的语气不太平稳。
“唉,我自己都搞不懂了!”基蒂简短地说,伸手去拿玛格丽特刚给她带来的一束玫瑰花,把脸埋在其中。
“也许,如果你把这个问题交给我,”艾什笑着说,“我们也许可以一起解决这个问题!”
他抱起双臂,靠在床脚上,看到她在平纹细布和蕾丝的褶皱中,以及她在这个时刻喜欢用的所有昂贵的枕头和床单包围着自己的景象,让他的眼睛感到高兴。早晨。她可能是一位旧政权的法国公主,正在接待她的宫廷。
基蒂摇摇头。玫瑰从她手中漫不经心地飘落,在她身上留下了一片片明亮的粉红色。阿什继续说道:
“无论如何,亲爱的,别说傻话 也有 好把柄!”
他用一种同志般的眼神看着她,仿佛在说他们都知道世界的愚蠢,但他也许更好,因为他是长辈。
“你的意思是,”基蒂平静地说,“我不应该和杰弗里·克利夫说那么多话?”
“他值得吗?”艾什说。 “这就是我想知道的——值得一些人大惊小怪吗?”
“正是人们的喧闹和人们的推动,”基蒂低声说道。
“你太恭维他们了,亲爱的!你觉得你昨晚对我很好吗?——这么说吧。你知道,我站在那些台阶上,看起来真是个傻瓜,而你却让老帕勒姆妈妈和整个演出都在等着!”
她沉默地看了他一会儿,看着他涨红的脸色和坚定的眼神。
“我想不出是什么让你嫁给了我,”她慢慢地说。
艾希笑了笑,走近了一些。
“我想不出,”他低声说道,“昨晚,如果你没有一点歉意的话,是什么让你来到这里,把你亲爱的头靠在我身上。”
“我并不抱歉——我睡不着,”她快速回答道,同时她的眼睛努力与他的目光交战。
门外传来敲门声。阿什赶紧走开。凯蒂的女仆进来了。
“我是要告诉您,先生,您的早餐已经准备好了。特兰莫尔夫人的仆人带来了这张纸条。”
阿什接过它,塞进口袋里。
“请把我的东西准备好,”基蒂对她的女仆说。阿什觉得自己被解雇了,就走了。
他一走,基蒂就从床上跳起来,披上一件晨衣,跑到布兰奇身边,布兰奇正俯身在一个五斗柜前。 “你昨天为什么对我说那些蠢话?”她急忙抓住女孩的手臂,问道,把她吓了一跳,手里的衣服差点掉下来。
“他们并不傻,我的女士,”布兰奇阴沉地说,目光别开。
“他们是!”凯蒂叫道。 “当然,我是个泼妇——我一直都是。但你知道,布兰奇,我并不总是像最近那么糟糕。很快我就会再次变得迷人——你会看到的!”
“我敢说,我的女士。”布兰奇继续分类和排列 贴身内衣 她从抽屉里拿出来。
基蒂在她旁边坐下,赤脚交叉在另一只脚上。
“你知道我是如何因为我的头发而虐待你的吗,布兰奇?好吧,阿尔科特夫人说,就在那天晚上,她从来没有见过做得这么好的。她想这一定是皮埃尔菲特的伴郎。我这不是很惨吗?我很清楚你做得很漂亮。”
女仆什么也没说,但一滴眼泪落在基蒂的睡衣上。
“你还记得上周的绿色加里波第吗?我只是讨厌它——因为你忘记了那个黑色的小玫瑰花结。”
“不!”布兰奇抬起头说道。 “夫人从来没有吩咐过。”
“我做到了——我做到了!但是不要紧。我的两个朋友想复制它,布兰奇。他们不相信这是一个女仆做的。他们说有这样的风格。如果你真的想去的话,他们明天就会邀请你——”
一个沉默。
“但是你不会去,布兰奇,是吗?”凯蒂银色的声音说道。 “我是一个可怕的恶魔,但我确实让艾什先生帮助了你的年轻人——而且我确实关心你可怜的兄弟——而且——而且——”她抚摸着女孩的手臂——“当我”时,我确实看起来相当不错。我穿好衣服了,不是吗?你不会喜欢穿着一身呆呆的衣服吧?”
“我确信我不想离开夫人,”女孩哽咽地说。 “但我不能再没有了——”
“不再有骚动了吗?”基蒂沉思着说道。 “嗯,这当然是严肃的,因为我生来就是如此。好吧,现在,听着,布兰奇,两周内你不会再给我警告了,无论我做什么,介意。如果到那时我已经不再祈祷了,你可以。我会引进一个俄罗斯人——或者乔克托人——当我叫她的名字时她听不懂。这是便宜货吗,布兰奇?”
女仆犹豫了。
“只要两周!”基蒂用她最迷人的语气说道。
“很好,女士。”
基蒂跳起来,在房间里跳着华尔兹,晨衣的白色丝绸裙摆飘得很远,然后把脚伸进拖鞋,开始穿衣服,好像什么也没发生过一样。
但当她梳洗完毕后,凯蒂打发走了她的女仆,在棕色书房里的镜子前坐了一会儿。
“ is 跟我有什么事吗?”她想。 “威廉是天使,我爱他。而我却不能做他想做的事——我 不能!”她不安地长长地吸了一口气。玻璃里映出的脸庞干燥无色,眼睛里有一种奇怪的、萎缩的表情。 “人们 ,那恭喜你, 着魔了——我知道他们是着魔了。他们无法自拔。我开始这样做是为了惩罚玛丽——而现在——当我看不到杰弗里时,一切都是令人厌恶和沉闷的。我什么也顾不上当然,我应该关心威廉的政治。我预计我伤害了他——我知道我伤害了他。我怎么了?
但突然间,就在她自我反省的时候,她最近在与克利夫的长谈中所感受到的情感和兴奋又回到了她的身上,立刻让她充满了痛苦的回忆和一种强烈的期望,她屈服于这种渴望。一只野生海鸟在大海的摇晃中。他们——那些谈话——从她试图洞察这个男人的秘密历史开始,这个男人的诗让她充满了超出她认知的令人兴奋的感情和激情——未踏足的区域,毫无疑问,充满了阴影和毒药,但是对于一个人来说,好奇心和大胆这两个词可以很好地概括他的本性。她发现这并不容易。据我们所知,克利夫对她第一次尝试的轻率感到不满。但当她更认真、更甜蜜地更新它时,结合了一些微妙的奉承,对她的美貌和地位的奉承,对她的私人利益的奉承,她情不自禁地在她丈夫的公开对手的男人身上表现出来对他的诗歌的钦佩,这不仅仅是赞美,而是真正渴望分享它们,将它们的思想和音乐变成她自己的——克利夫最终无法抗拒她。毕竟,到目前为止,她只是让他谈论自己,而对于他这种类型的男人来说,这个过程就是他存在的气息,是他所有力量的激发和解放。
因此,在他们意识到之前,他们就处于人类讨论中最热门的话题之中——起初是以一种相对隐晦和笼统的方式,然后随着他们之间的亲密关系的增长,对克利夫自己的故事进行了最尖锐的个人参考。嫉妒、痛苦、激情的“难题”——为什么男人自私和苛求,为什么女人误导和折磨——丑陋的浪费和死亡的残酷——这些都是他们发现自己的伟大主题。死亡高于一切——在基蒂眼中,克利夫那张冷酷的脸或许主要归功于对死亡的思考。一个女人为他的爱而死,被他的嫉妒和她自己的自嘲所压垮。有人告诉基蒂:克利夫饱受虚荣心的折磨,也不会否认这一点。她怎么会这么关心?这就是谜题。
但这种替代关系现在已经变成了她自己的关系。克利夫对基蒂来说是一个问题——而且是一个在某种程度上超越了她的问题。当然,性的元素也加入其中,但只是为了强化想象的对比和神秘感。他让她感受到了这些对比和神秘,因为她以前从未感受到过它们。因此,他为她扩大了世界,他让她(哪怕只是通过接触他自己痛苦而易怒的天才)进入情感和情感的新领域。因为尽管他身上有粗俗的成分,但也有天才的成分。这个人是一位诗人和思想家,尽管在某种意义上他同时也是一位冒险家。他的脑子里储存着雄辩而美丽的意象、别人的诗和他自己的诗。他可以不择手段地追求最卑鄙的个人目标;但他仍然经历了许多悲惨的境遇。他曾在大地的荒野中与自己的灵魂面对面。他蔑视一切身体上的危险。他傲慢、专横的脾气吸引了许多女人,尤其是像基蒂这样身材娇小、智力无所畏惧的女人,她们觉得这是对自己权力和魅力的挑战。
对于基蒂来说,他的社交在这六个星期里已经变成了一种激情——一种想象力的激情。对于这个男人本人来说,她大概会说,比什么都感到厌恶吧。但她却对这种强烈的排斥感感到厌恶,因为她内心不断地对急速的生活产生反应,而这种感觉在她身上引起了兴奋。
除此之外,还有在这种情况下的恶作剧和蔑视的因素,把他从玛丽——她的敌人和诽谤者手中夺走,格罗斯维尔夫人和所有其他虚伪的暴君的蔑视,拖着她的战车车轮的骄傲,甚至大多数人都在追求的男人当他们厌恶他时,他在国外享有惊人的声誉,特别是在基蒂崇拜的法国,作为一种现代拜伦,唯一一个仍能在公共场合展示“流血的心的盛会”的英国人,而不用担心。他本人很可笑,也许已经有足够的证据来解释现在的迷恋,就像波光粼粼的湖面上一阵狂野的春风,威胁要把基蒂的浅色树皮带入危险的水域。
“我不在乎他,”她独自坐着思考时对自己说,“但我必须见他——我 将!我会随心所欲地与他交谈!”
她娇小的身躯因她的决心而变得僵硬。在这种时刻,基蒂的意志是致命的——它是如此强烈,又如此不理智。
与此同时,在楼下,阿什本人正在努力应对同一情况的另一个阶段。特兰莫尔夫人的便条上写着:“在您收到此信后,我几乎会立即与您在一起,因为我想在您去外交部之前抓住您。”
因此,他们在图书馆里,艾什处于守势,特兰莫尔夫人紧张、尴尬,并被声音吓了一跳。两人都看向门口。两人都期待着凯蒂的出现,同时又害怕凯蒂的出现。
“亲爱的威廉,”他的母亲最后说道,她把手伸过他们之间的一张小桌子,放在她儿子的桌子上,“你会原谅我的,不是吗?——即使我在你看来确实很拘谨。”和荒谬的。但我怕你 应该告诉凯蒂人们所说的一些不友善的话!你知道我已经尽力了,但她不听我的。你应该求她——是的,威廉,你确实应该!——不要再给他们任何机会了。”
她焦急地看着他,充满了萦绕在最深、最温柔的感情中的胆怯。她刚刚让他读一封格罗斯维尔夫人写给自己的信。艾什跑过它,然后做出轻蔑的姿势把它放下。
“基蒂显然很喜欢和克利夫一起在月光下散步。她为什么不应该呢?格罗斯维尔夫人认为月亮是让月亮沉睡的——而其他人则不这么认为。”
“但是,威廉!——晚上——每个人都上床睡觉了——逃离了房子——只有他们两个!”
特兰莫尔夫人恳求地看着他,似乎想抗议,但又讨厌自己说的话。
艾希笑了。他抽烟的神情如此漫不经心,让他母亲的心沉了下去。因为她预见到了她周围的社会中从未允许她听到的批评。难道他天生的懒惰甚至无法唤醒自己,甚至无法捍卫年轻妻子的名誉吗?
“都是格罗斯维尔夫妇的错,”过了一会儿,艾什又点了一根烟,“他们关上了他们又大又重的房子,在五月的夜晚拉上厚重的窗帘,当时所有理智的人都想出去。 -门。我亲爱的妈妈,关注格罗斯维尔夫人这样的人对基蒂这样的人的评价有什么好处呢?你不妨期待黛博拉会和爱丽儿一拍即合!”
“威廉,别笑!”母亲苦恼地说。 “杰弗里·克利夫不是一个值得信任的人。你我都知道这一点。他是个自夸者,而且——”
“还有一个骗子!”艾什轻声说道。 “哦!我知道。”
“然而他对女人却拥有这种力量——人们应该正视这一点。威廉,最亲爱的威廉!”她倾身过去,紧紧握住他的手,“一定要劝凯蒂离开伦敦——立刻!”
“基蒂不会去,”艾什平静地说,“对不起,亲爱的妈妈。我讨厌你应该担心。但事实是这样的。小猫不肯走!”
“那就使用你的权威吧,”特兰莫尔夫人说道。
“我没有。”
“威廉!”艾什从座位上站起来,开始走来走去。他的能力和尊严,就像一个已经习惯了指挥并注定拥有丰富经验的人一样,在这无助的话语的那一刻更加明显。母亲看着他,眼神中夹杂着钦佩和惊讶。
不久,他在她身边停了下来。
“我希望你能理解我,妈妈。我不能和凯蒂战斗。在向她求婚之前,我就已经下定决心了。我当时就知道,现在也知道,这只会带来灾难。她必须自由,我不会试图强迫她。”
“或者是为了保护她!”他的母亲喊道。
“至于这一点,我会尽力而为。但我清楚地预见到,当我们结婚时,我们会令很多软弱的弟兄感到震惊。”
他笑了,但是,在他母亲看来,他笑得很努力。
“威廉!作为一个公众人物——”
他打断了她。
“如果我既能成为基蒂的丈夫,又能成为一名公众人物,那就太好了。如果没有的话,那么我就会——”
“基蒂的丈夫?”特兰莫尔夫人喊道,语气里带着苦涩,几乎是讽刺,但她立刻就后悔了。她改变了语气。
“当然,基蒂,首先关心的是你的公共地位,”她语气更加温和地说。 “最亲爱的威廉——她还那么年轻——尽管她很聪明,但她可能不太明白。不过她 不 关心——她 必须 关心——她应该知道哪些细微的事情有时可能会影响一个人在这个国家的前途和未来。”
阿什什么也没说。他转过身来,继续踱步。特兰莫尔夫人困惑地看着他。
“威廉,我昨晚听到一个谣言——”
他悬着香烟。
“克拉肖勋爵告诉我,辞职消息肯定会在本周登上报纸,并且在重新安排职位后,该部将继续下去。是真的吗?”
阿什又继续抽烟。
“据我所知,确实如此——就事实而言。至于日期,我想,克拉肖勋爵和我一样知道。可能是这周,也可能是下个月。”
“然后我听说——谢天谢地我从来没有见过她,”伊丽莎白不情愿地继续说道——“那个可怕的女人,帕勒姆夫人,比以往任何时候都更加愤怒——”
“和基蒂一起?让她去吧!无论对凯蒂还是我来说,一双旧鞋真的并不重要。”
“她可能是最死敌,威廉。她确实影响了帕勒姆勋爵。”
阿什一边抽烟一边微笑。特兰莫尔夫人看出他的自尊心也被激起了,而且在这里他很可能会像凯蒂一样顽固。
“我希望我能把她从我的脑海里抹掉!”她叹了口气。
艾希善意地看了她一眼。
“我敢说我们会坚持自己的立场。赞西佩不受爱戴,我不相信帕勒姆会让她干涉他认为对党最有利的事情。让我进入内阁是否值得?——这就是他会问的问题。我也将得到我们大多数论文的大力支持。”
特兰莫尔夫人的脑子里闪过许多念头。凭借在伦敦的长期经历,她深知一个男人在关键时刻突然降低“考虑度”(法语单词)可能意味着什么。普遍关注的冷淡——一股没人知道从何而来的干扰气息——新的主张很快就会出现,昨天不可或缺的东西变成了今天可以忽略不计的东西!
但即使她可以把这些焦虑用语言表达出来,她也没有机会。大厅里传来凯蒂的声音。把手转动了,她跑了进去。
“威廉!啊!——我不知道妈妈在这里。”
她走到伊丽莎白身边,轻轻吻了一下那位女士的脸颊。
“早上好。威廉,我只是来告诉你我可能会迟到吃晚饭,所以也许你最好在家里吃饭。我要去河边。”
“你是?”艾什一边说,一边收起他的文件。 “但愿我是。”
“你要跟克拉肖的队伍一起去吗?”伊丽莎白问。 “我知道他们有一个。”
“哦,亲爱的,不!”基蒂说。 “我讨厌河边的人群。我要和杰弗里·克利夫一起去。”
艾什弯下腰坐在办公桌前。特兰莫尔夫人眉毛一扬,忍不住说出了一句话:
“独自的?”
“自然!”基蒂笑道。 “他给我读法语诗歌,我们聊法语。我们让玛德琳·阿尔科特来过一次,但她的口音太令人震惊了,杰弗里不会再接纳她了!”
特兰莫尔夫人的脸涨得通红。 “杰弗里”对她来说似乎无法忍受。凯蒂穿着最干净的白色礼服,走到图书馆的另一端去咨询 布拉德肖。伊丽莎白抬起头,看到了她儿子的目光——以及眼中混合着幽默和烦恼的目光,他仿佛在呼吁她像他自己一样看待这整件愚蠢的事情。特兰莫尔夫人感到一阵强烈的反应。她真的是无事生非吗?
然而,那天晚上痛苦的沉思所留下的印象仍然很深,足以让她说——只是用眼睛和嘴唇发出信号,所以基蒂既没有看到也没有听到——“别让她走!”
艾希摇摇头。他向门口走去,手里拿着快递箱站在那里,最后看了他的妻子一眼。
“别迟到,基蒂——不然我会紧张的。我不相信河牌圈的 Cliffe。请制定一条规则,在锁中,他不再引用法国诗歌。”
凯蒂转过身来,对他的语气感到惊讶和恼火。
“他是一位出色的桨手,”她简短地说。
“是他?在牛津,我们尝试让他参加托皮德队——”阿什耸耸肩结束了他的话。然后,他仍然无视特兰莫尔夫人再次恳求的目光,离开了房间。
凯蒂气得满脸通红。艾什态度中的轻蔑和恶意已经很明显了。她做好了抵抗的准备,特兰莫尔夫人失去了机会。因为,当伊丽莎白鼓起全部勇气,不确定儿子会赞成还是责备她时,深情地接近她的儿媳妇,试图用胆怯和歉意的话语来卸下自己的负担,到达基蒂的心,基蒂用一个人来迎接她。像伊丽莎白·特兰莫尔这样的女人无法应对那些爆发的脾气。他们的道德反感太大了。这是精神贵族的反感;他们和激情之子之间的联系很少,对抗却是永恒的。
她离开家,脸色苍白,神色凝重,眼里含着泪水。基蒂跑上楼,哼着一首《浮士德》,仿佛要把它撕成碎片,戴上一顶火焰色的帽子,让她的服装更加奢华,订购了一辆双轮马车,然后开车离开。
基蒂是否在接下来的三周里得到了很多快乐,仍然不确定。如果这能带来最终的满足的话,她肯定已经击败了玛丽·莱斯特。玛丽很早就离开了小镇,现在在萨默塞特郡帮助她的父亲招待,恶意者说,为了尽可能地以最好的面貌面对这次严重的失败。克利夫并没有致力于拉拢北部选区,在那里他被选为新保守党团体的候选人,而是顽固地在城里徘徊,危及他的机会并激怒了他的支持者。基蒂对他行为的影响确实是显而易见的、不可否认的,无论人们普遍认为她对他的心灵产生的影响如何。无论如何,基蒂的一些密友相信,至少可以说,他现在对这件事的专注程度不亚于她的热切和坚持。在这一点上,基蒂方面已不再是一种奉承关系,而他方面则不再是一种愉悦的自爱关系。它已经成为两种性格的决斗,或者更确切地说是两种想象力的决斗。事实上,随着基蒂了解了他的性格,更加自豪地成为自己和他的情妇,他对她的兴趣明显增加了。几乎可以说,她开始有所保留,而他却第一次追了上来。
有一两次,他有幸问自己这一切的终点在哪里。他爱她吗?一个荒谬的问题!他对激情表示了极大的敬意,如果有的话,他已经将他的牌位和因海难而湿透的衣服挂在神的神庙里。但归根结底,与一个年轻、美丽、任性的女人交往,似乎仍然是这一天——无论如何,伦敦日——所带来的最好的事情。在基蒂的建议下,他正在收集和修改一本新诗集。他和她为这些事争吵不休。有时,没有一句台词令她满意;然后,她会再一次用她棕色的眼睛里突然流下泪水的敬意来取悦他,她的赞美如此热烈和优雅,几乎可以与死者的赞美相比较——正如基蒂所说的那样。在阴暗的客厅里,每一个细节都符合他的品味,克利夫刺耳的声音雷鸣般地或低声吟诵着毫无争议的诗人的诗句,因而感性而充满激情。表面上这节经文是关于另一个女人的。事实上,那个坐在鲜花盛开的壁炉另一边的纤细可爱的身影,精致的头低着,指尖轻轻地并拢,一天天更直接地进入诗人的意识。有什么害处?他所要求的只是情报和回应。至于她的心,他却没有任何要求。顺便说一句,艾什显然并不嫉妒——考虑到凯蒂女士的意志力,这是一种明智的态度。
事实上,克利夫对艾什的感情中融入了许多邪恶的东西,这些东西是由两个人之间完全不同的关系决定的——一个想要的人与一个拥有的人的关系,一个被不安的野心打败的人与一个拥有的人的关系。拥有对方所渴望的一切,却假装对此漠不关心的人——从愤怒地战斗的战斗者到微笑着战斗的战斗者。克利夫经常会因为想到艾什的机会和艾什的未来,再加上艾什对自己的态度要么轻蔑,要么居高临下而勃然大怒。正是在这样的时刻,他才会投入最大的资源来建立自己对基蒂的统治地位。
这两个人见面时(这种情况很少见)是以完全文明的方式见面的。如果阿什在下午晚些时候从众议院出人意料地到达,发现克利夫在客厅里大声朗读给基蒂听,那么当时的政治就提供了足够的话题,直到克利夫可以体面地离开。他从不单独和他们一起吃饭,基蒂根本不介意这样的聚会带来的不舒服。晚上,当他和基蒂在少数房子里见面时,人们每晚都在观看调情,人们越来越兴奋,阿什的职责使他留在威斯敏斯特,没有什么可以阻止小而重要的事件的发生。出现这种情况。
艾什咬紧牙关。他最终下定决心,这是一场瘟疫和暴政,总会过去的,只有反对才能放大。但他的脾气却受到了影响。这几个星期里,他和基蒂之间发生了很多小争吵,这些争吵暴露了他本质上是钢铁般的自制力所造成的紧张。但他们把日常生活变成了肮脏、不可爱的事情,他们给基蒂一个借口,说威廉和她一样暴力,并在克利夫的陪伴所带来的情感或幻想的兴奋中寻求庇护。
也许在剧中的所有人物中,特兰莫尔夫人是最值得怜悯的。她坐在家里,无心去希尔街,丈夫病得无助,让她比平时更加束缚。这些天来,艾什从来没有错过每天去看望父亲的机会。他会进来,显然是他英俊、幽默的样子,准备大声朗读二十分钟,或者只是静静地坐在病人旁边,他的眼睛时不时地对特兰莫尔勋爵的呆滞表情做出深情的回应。只有他的母亲寻找并发现了眉毛习惯性的轻微收缩,这证明了内心同样持续的不安。但他在基蒂的问题上与她保持一定的距离。她不敢告诉他任何她听到的流言蜚语。
与此同时,这几周对她来说不仅意味着对耻辱的恐惧,而且意味着正义雄心的失望,以及母亲骄傲的羞辱。政治危机迅速逼近,阿什的名字越来越少。据说帕勒姆夫人积极参与了围绕她丈夫的协商和阴谋,现在核心圈子都知道她对灰烬的敌意,以及她坚持内阁部长必须超越这一事实。责备,以及他们的妻子,他们的聚会可以去他们的房子而不贬低自己,可能很重要。此外,阿什在下议院的成功不再像本届会议早些时候那样。党的报纸已经冷却了。伊丽莎白·特兰莫尔感到空气中弥漫着一股枯萎的气息。而威廉,以他在国家的地位,高超的能力,以及特兰莫尔贵族和庄园继承人的社会地位,绝对不是一个可以轻易忽视的人!帕勒姆勋爵会冒险吗?
最后两位部长辞职了 时;女王和首相之间进行了沟通,伦敦在七月下旬以尽可能高的热情陷入了内阁组建的阵痛之中。基蒂脾气暴躁地坚持说,当然一切都会好起来的。威廉的贡献实在是太伟大了,不容忽视。不过,如果帕勒姆勋爵敢的话,他无疑会轻视他。但党和公众会监督这一点。像帕勒姆夫人这样的粗俗老妇人能够对政治任命产生真正影响力的日子已经一去不复返了。不然谁会屈尊于政治呢?
阿什给她带来了来自众议院或俱乐部的关于正在发生的各种阴谋的有趣报告,而至于他自己的机会,拒绝认真讨论它们。有一两次,基蒂当着他的面,坚持要向某个政治密友谈论这些事情,结果却引起了明显的尴尬,阿什遭受了骄傲的人都知道的折磨。但他从未失去他那种轻松超然的语气,他的朋友们的结论是,像往常一样,“阿什不关心任何按钮。”
然而几个小时过去了,总理没有任何迹象。一切都还不确定;但艾什意识到,至少他不应该被纳入党内的阴谋之中。这种情况下的希望和恐惧、心痛和竞争是众所周知的。艾什不耐烦地想知道这件可怕的事情什么时候才能结束,他可以去苏格兰呼吸他急需的空气和运动。
那是八月第一周的一个星期五。阿什正和另一位众议院议员离开雅典娜博物馆,这时一个报童拿着一捆新报纸冲过他们身边,大声喊道:“新内阁完成了!正式名单!”他们抓住了他,抓起一张纸,开始阅读。两名中年男子在议会中很引人注目,但迄今为止尚未担任公职,其中一名作为律师非常重要,另一名作为军事评论家,被任命为内政部,另一名到陆军部;小办公室里发生了一些变动,新的枢密院已经出现在世人面前。其余的一切都和以前一样,在正式名单中,威廉·特拉弗斯·阿什阁下的名字仍然保留在外交部副部长的名字后面。
艾什的朋友耸了耸肩,避免看他的同伴。 “首先,这是一个炸弹,”他说; “否则就是最平淡的事情了。”
“恰恰相反,”阿什笑道。 “帕勒姆表现出了惊人的原创性。如果你我都感到惊讶,公众会怎样?他们会更喜欢他——你会看到的。他表现出了勇气并开始寻找新人——他们会这么说。 生活 帕勒姆!那再见吧;好吧再见。现在,上帝保佑,我们该下车了——本周的这一天我可能会成为松鸡之一。”
他在离开俱乐部的路上停下来与进来的人讨论名单。他意识到有些人会避开他。但他无意回避,他尖酸刻薄、幽默风趣的谈话使局面平息下来。不久,他正走在回家的路上,像一个等待假期的小学生一样快乐地挥舞着他的手杖。
当他登上圣詹姆斯街时,一辆马车缓缓驶来。阿什机械地脱下帽子,对着里面那张半认不出来的脸,当他这样做时,他看到了帕勒姆夫人冰冷的鞠躬和胜利的眼睛。
他快步走去,努力抗拒一种奇怪的感觉,比如身体上的瘀伤和殴打。街上满是新闻,他多次被熟人拦住谈论此事。在萨维尔街,他加入了一个小型文学俱乐部(他是其中的成员),并给他的母亲写了一封信。它用非常深情和有趣的语言恳求她不要太认真地对待失望。 “我想我今晚不会来了。不过明天第一件事就是等我。”
他通过信使寄了字条,然后步行回家。当他到达希尔街时,已经接近八点了。在屋外,他突然问自己,他打算对基蒂采取什么立场。
然而,基蒂并不在家。据他所知,她曾随阿尔科特队前往萨里执教,当然,杰弗里·克利夫也在其中。事实上,不久之后,他就在他的学习桌上发现了她匆忙的一行字,说他们要在里士满吃饭,而“玛德琳”估计他们会在十点到十一点之间回家。不再多说一句话。和所有强者一样,艾什鄙视自怜的冥想。但不由自主地想到,在这个羞辱的夜晚,基蒂没有和他在一起——显然她对他的事务和与他在一起的野心不够关心——带来了一种必须忍受的痛苦。
下一刻,他似乎为她的缺席而感到高兴。此类事情,尤其是在第一次发生时,最好独自面对。如果这件事确实有什么令人震惊的话。一段时间以来,他已经有了自己精明的预见,他意识到自己内心有一种强烈的信念,认为自己的失败只是暂时的。
大概,当她有时间回忆这些琐事的时候,基蒂会比他更感到震惊。帕勒姆夫人无疑赢得了这一轮的比赛!
他安顿下来独自吃晚饭,但在吃到一半的时候,他放下了基蒂的阿伯丁梗犬,因为没有其他陪伴,他正在吃得很饱,然后跑向育婴室。护士正在吃晚饭,哈利睡得很熟,他是一个漂亮的小家伙,脸色通红,看起来很健康,带着凯蒂的坚强表情。
艾什弯下腰,将长着胡须的脸颊贴在男孩的脸颊上。 “别介意,老头子!”他低声说道:“祝你下次好运!”
然后他微笑着站起来,深情地看着孩子,满意地注意到他明亮的肤色和均匀的呼吸,然后偷偷地走开了。
他翻阅了晚报对新内阁名单的评论,只发现其中有两三篇提到了自己,然后就把它们扔到一边,抓起了桌上的一堆书籍和评论。他把它们带到客厅,在神学评论和新版贺拉斯的书之间犹豫不决,最后满怀热情地投入到神学评论中。
他坐了大约两个小时,对图宾根主要立场的精辟总结着迷。然后突然向后仰去,伸了个懒腰,大笑起来。
“想知道这个家伙在做什么,抢到了我的职位!不读神学,我就会受到束缚。”
随之而来的反思是,如果他当时担任内政大臣和内阁成员,他可能也不会阅读这本书——也不会留到一个孤独的夜晚。朋友们会过来祝贺——这相当于古老的“turba clientium”的现代形式。
正当他胡思乱想时,客厅的钟敲响了十一点。他站了起来,既惊讶又不耐烦。基蒂在哪里?
到了半夜,她还没有到。艾希听到管家在大厅里走动,便将他召唤了出来。
“教练威尔逊可能出了一些意外。也许他们一直留在里士满。无论如何,去睡觉吧。我会等夫人的。”
他回到扶手椅和书本上,但很快就画出了凯蒂的书本。 紫红色 越过他就睡着了。
当他醒来时,房间里已经亮了。 “他们怎么了?”他突然焦虑地问自己。
在黎明的寂静中,他来回踱步,第一次成为黑色抑郁症的牺牲品。他被过去两个月的记忆所包围,他们的焦虑和争吵——浪费时间和机会——对感情和自尊的刺痛。有一次他发现自己大声呻吟:“凯蒂!猫咪!”
当这个巨大的、令人分心的伦敦被抛在身后,当他在苏格兰石南花和桦树丛中拥有她时,他是否应该再次找到她——再次征服她——就像在他们结婚后的美妙日子里一样?他带着一种骄傲的痛苦想起克利夫,不屑于嫉妒或害怕。基蒂自娱自乐——最大限度地考验了她的自由度和他的耐心。也许她现在会感到满足,并奖励他一点自制力,一种哲学,这并不容易!
基蒂小桌子上的一本法国小说引起了他的注意。他不无幽默地想到法国丈夫在类似情况下会做出什么反应——回想起一位法国熟人在某个案例中对英国妻子自由的评论。 “Il ya un élément turc dans le mari français, qui nous rendrait ces moeurs-là 不可能!”
都是好时光!让法国人随心所欲地保持他的后宫标准吧。一个英国人既信任他的妻子又信任他的女儿——事实上,考虑他是否信任她们是一种蔑视!谁的处境最糟?不是英国人——至少,如果我们相信关于法国人的法国小说 家族!
他就这样来回踱步了一个小时,无视那些看不见的批评者——他的母亲——他自己的内心。
然后他上床睡了一会儿。但第二天早上发邮件后,却没有收到凯蒂的来信。对此可能有一百种解释。但他突然觉得需要小心谨慎。
“夫人今天早上乘火车来了,”他对威尔逊说道,仿佛在读一张纸条。 “好像出了什么意外。”
然后他乘坐一辆双轮马车前往阿尔科茨。
“奥尔科特夫人在家吗?”他问管家。 “我可以回复这张纸条吗?”
“太太。先生,阿尔科特从昨天早上起就一直在她的房间里。就在马车即将到来之前,她病倒了,马匹不得不被送回去。但昨晚医生希望情况不会太严重。”
阿什转身回家了。然后基蒂就没有和玛德琳·阿尔科特在一起——没有在马车上!她在哪里,和谁在一起?
他把自己关在书房里,困惑地思考自己最好做什么。一股愤怒和痛苦的浪潮在他内心涌动。如何掌握它并保持大脑清醒!
当门打开又关上时,他坐在写字台前,双手垂在身前,盯着地板。他转过身来。基蒂背对着门站在那里。她的样子让他惊呆了。她颤抖着看着他——她的小脸憔悴而苍白,带着一丝模糊了青春的色彩。
“威廉!”她双手放在胸前,仿佛要支撑自己。然后她向前飞去。 “威廉!我没有做错任何事——没有——没有!威廉——看着我!”
他严厉地伸出手,保护自己。
“你去哪儿了?”他低声说道——“和谁一起?”
凯蒂跌坐在椅子上,放声大哭。
一阵寂静,只剩下凯蒂的哭声。艾什仍然站在写字台旁,手放在上面,眼睛看着凯蒂。有一两次他开始说话,然后就停了下来。最后他明显困难地说:
“让我等太残忍了,凯蒂。”
“今天早上我第一件事就是给你发了一封电报。”声音哽咽而充满激情。
“我从来没有得到过。”
“可怕的小恶魔!”基蒂叫道,她坐了起来,把头发从沾满泪水的脸颊上拨开。 “今天早上我给了一个男孩半克朗,让他在八点钟之前带着它到达车站。昨晚我不可能写信或打电报——太晚了。”
“当时你在哪里?”艾什缓缓说道。 “我今天早上去了奥尔科特一家,然后——”
“——管家告诉你玛德琳已经上床睡觉了?她也是。昨天早上她病了。没有教练,也没有聚会。我和杰弗里一起去了。”
凯蒂挺直了身子。她的眼睛,不由自主地流下泪水,定定地看着她的丈夫。
“我当然猜到了,”阿什说。
“杰弗里给我带来了这个消息——就在我正准备去阿尔科特家的时候。然后他说他有东西要读给我——去潘伯恩——在河上度过一天——然后晚上——乘火车从温莎回来,会很美味。我头疼得很厉害——天气太热了——而你在办公室”——她的嘴唇颤抖着——“我想听杰弗里的诗——所以——”
她打断了自己的话,再次崩溃了——把脸埋在椅子上。但下一刻,当艾什跪在她身边时,她感觉自己被粗暴地向前拉了过去。
“基蒂!——看着我!那个人对你来说就像个小人一样?”
她抬起头,看到那张英俊、幽默的脸发生了变化,然后挣脱了身子。
“他确实这么做了,”她痛苦地说——“就像个恶棍一样。”她开始扭动并折磨她的手帕,就像艾什以前见过她做的那样,白色的小牙齿压在下唇上——然后突然她转向他——
“我想你想让我给你讲这个故事?”
一切尽在Kitty之言!她的坦率,她的大胆,还有她容易在情感上强加的不耐烦、现实的语气——这些都在那里。
艾什站起来,开始走来走去。
“告诉我你在这件事中所扮演的角色,”他最后说道——“尽可能少地提及那个家伙。”
基蒂沉默了。艾什看着她,看到一种奇怪的遐想,一种梦幻般的兴奋掠过她的脸。
“继续吧,基蒂!”他尖锐地说。然后,他克制住自己,以他自然的礼貌补充道:“请原谅,基蒂,但是我们越早解决这个问题越好。”
一时笼罩着她表情的雾气消散了。她脸红得很厉害。
“我说过我没做过什么伤天害理的事!”她热情地说。 “你相信我吗?”
他们的眼神交汇在一起,充满了挑战和回答,令人震惊。
“这些事情不应该在你我之间问。”他语气激烈地说,并伸出了手。她只是自豪地触摸了它。然后她长长地吸了一口气。
“那天——就像其他日子一样。他给我读了他的诗——在我们在银行下面找到的一个凉爽的地方。我有时觉得他很荒唐,与以前不同。他谈到我们的离开——以及他没有见到我——以及他是多么孤独。当然,我对他感到非常抱歉。但一切都很好,直到——”
她停了下来,看着艾希。
“你还记得哈梅尔威尔附近的旅馆——距离温莎几英里——那个孤独的小地方。”
灰烬地点了点头。
“我们在那里吃饭。然后我们划船去温莎,十点左右乘火车回家。我们很早就吃完了晚饭。顺便说一句,那里还有另外两个人——伊迪丝·曼利夫人和她的儿子。他们是从什么地方划下来的——”
“伊迪丝女士是不是——”
“是的——她跟我说话了。她要回城去——参加荷兰屋派对——”
“她可能是在哪里认识妈妈的?”
“她确实遇见了她!”凯蒂叫道。她指着她进来时扔下的一封信。 “你妈妈今天早上给我寄了这张纸条——询问我什么时候应该在家。威尔逊传话——那里!我当然知道她认为我有能力做任何事。”
她看着他,眼神挑衅,但表情非常痛苦,脸色苍白。
“请继续,”艾什说。
“我们很早就吃完了晚饭。客栈后面有一片田野,然后是一片树林。我们漫步走进树林,然后杰弗里——好吧,他疯了!他-”
她狠狠咬着嘴唇,努力保持镇静——也努力说不出话来。
“他向你提议把我扔下去?”艾什说,她的肤色和她一样白。
她突然伸出双臂——就像一个可怜的孩子。
“哦!别站在那里——用那样的眼神看着我——我受不了。”
艾什来了——不情愿。她察觉到了他的不情愿,脸色火红地示意他回去,同时她控制住自己,把自己的故事讲了出来。不久之后,艾什就能够相当清晰地回忆起所发生的事情了。克里夫陶醉在漫长的一天的亲密和孤独中,陶醉在基蒂的美丽和基蒂的愚蠢之中,意识到离别即将来临,并相信基蒂的狂野性情,突然采取了爱人的语言——一个爱人的语言。他的最终答案毫无疑问。只要他们能够互相理解——事实上,目前,这就是他所要求的。但她必须知道,她已经断绝了他与玛丽·莱斯特的婚姻,并在他的本性中重新开启了激情和风暴的所有旧源泉。他爱她是她的至高无上的意志。它已经实现了。为了她——为了阿什的缘故——他知道自己是一个焦灼而犯罪的人——为了艾什——他试图抵抗她的咒语。徒然。他们的两种本性——想象力——同情心——发生了致命的融合。每一个都互相渗透;撤退是不可能的。
事实上,一种阴郁的力量——诗人和梦想家的力量——似乎从克利夫奇怪的求爱中流露出来。他并没有特意去奉承她,也没有刻意掩饰自己原本的犹豫。他用一种严厉、近乎残酷的眼光来看待她自己的行为。显然,他认为她对她丈夫不好;他警告她未来充满背叛和悔恨。同时他让她看到他不能怀疑,但她会面对它。他们手里还握着最后一张正当的牌——激情,以及勇往直前的勇气。当这些比赛进行时,他们可能会面对面地看着对方和世界。在那之前,他们只是些微不足道的人——卑鄙的灵魂——既不适合天堂,也不适合地狱。
这份报告的刺痛让艾什的整个人很快就陷入了愤怒之中,因为他从凯蒂那里听出了这一点。但他保持了自制力,凭借这种自制力,他很快就对她自己在现场的份额有了一些了解。恐惧、退缩、否认——对加在她身上的指控、对从那些严厉的嘴唇中爆发出来的对她行为的无情解释的愤怒、对克利夫忍受她的愤怒并接受她的抗议时的怀疑转变为类似蔑视的愤怒——然后,她盲目地穿过田野,来到路边的小车站,希望能在那里赶上末班车。当她距离线路还有半英里时,火车的到达和离开,以及她在一间小屋里过夜的情况;这些事情显而易见,而其他的一切仍然模糊不清。她在多大程度上挑衅了自己的命运,甚至现在她在多大程度上摆脱了克利夫性格的病态魔咒,艾什不允许自己问。当她的故事接近尾声时,她一直在其中挣扎的巨大风暴似乎逐渐平息,仁慈地冲向了他,把他带到了解救的彼岸。她就在他身边;而她仍然是他自己的。
当她讲述她的故事时,他一直靠在椅子的一侧,手托着下巴,眼睛盯着她。当她想起自己在小屋里的倒塌、在它所组成的小村庄里找不到任何马车、夜晚的微弱疲倦时,一切都以一阵自怜结束了——
“我从来没有睡觉,”她可怜兮兮地说。 “我八点起床赶第一班火车,现在我感觉”——她靠在椅子上,闭着眼睛凄凉地低声说——“好像我想死!”
阿什在她身边跪下。
“这也是我的错,基蒂。我应该用更强的手握住你。我讨厌和你吵架。但是——哦,亲爱的,亲爱的——”
她默默地迎接着哭声,泪水从她的脸颊上流下来。他粗暴地、冲动地把她抱在怀里,亲吻她,仿佛他要再次重新编织和神圣化他们之间的纽带。她被动地靠在他身上,一头乱糟糟的金发披在他的肩上——她太虚弱了,太疲惫了,无法做出反应。
“这不行,”他说道,随即挣脱了束缚。 “你必须吃点东西,休息一下。然后我们再想想该怎么办。”
当他走到门口时,她突然惊醒。
“你怎么不在外交部?”
“我很早就发消息了。劳森来了”——劳森是他的私人秘书——“但我必须在一小时内下去。”
“威廉!”
基蒂站了起来,她的大眼睛在那张布满泪痕的小脸上闪闪发亮,充满惊愕。
“是的。”他停顿了一下。
“威廉,名单出来了吗?”
“是的。”
基蒂摇摇晃晃地站了起来。
“没关系?”
“我想是的,”他慢慢地说。 “这对我没有影响。”
然后,他也不等,走进大厅,关上了身后的门。他给外交部写了一张便条,说他要到下午才到办公室,重要文件将交给他。然后他让威尔逊把酒和三明治带进图书馆,送给前一天晚上在河里因事故滞留的基蒂女士,她已经筋疲力尽了。当然,除了特兰莫尔夫人或弗伦奇小姐之外,任何访客都不得进入。
当他回到图书馆时,发现凯蒂脸颊绯红,双手背在身后,走来走去。她一看到他,就霸道地向他示意。
“关上门,威廉。我有很重要的事情要对你说。”
他听从了她的吩咐,她故意走到他面前。他看到她白色裙子下的心在跳动——这件被压扁、脏兮兮的裙子,仍然保持着柔和的优雅和小小的创意,从头到脚都在讲述着基蒂的心声。但她的态度却十分平静和镇定。
“威廉,我们必须分开!你必须送我走。”
他开始。
“你什么意思?”
“我说的。我就这样毁了你的生活,这真是——令人无法忍受。”
“请不要夸大其词,凯蒂!不存在毁掉的问题。到时候我就会走了,帕勒姆夫人对此无话可说!”
“不!当我在场的时候,没有什么比你脖子上挂着磨石更顺利的了。威廉”——她走近了他——“听从我的建议——去做吧!你跟我结婚的时候我就警告过你了。现在你看——这是真的。”
“你这个傻孩子,”他慢慢地回答,“你认为我能在一个小时内忘记你,无论你在哪里吗?”
“哦,是的,”她坚定地说,“我知道你会忘记我——如果我不在这里的话。我敢肯定。你非常有野心,威廉——比你想象的还要雄心勃勃。你很快就会关心——”
“更多的是为了政治而不是为了你?你的另一个错觉,基蒂。根本不是这样的。此外,如果你只听我的建议——稍微相信你的丈夫——为他和你自己考虑一下。我认为无论是在政治上还是在我们的共同生活中,没有什么是无法挽回的。”
他说话充满男子气概、仁慈和通情达理。没有一丝他一贯的懒惰或冷漠。基蒂听着,意识到最强烈的情感混合体——爱、悔恨、羞耻和一种奇怪的、令人痛苦的荒凉。还有什么,什么更好 可以 她有问过他吗?然而,当她看着他时,她突然想起了格罗斯维尔公园的月光花园,想起了他拜倒在她脚下的那种年轻的、轻率的骑士精神。眼前这个男人,年纪大了很多,成熟了很多,用经验计算着与她结婚的代价,并慷慨、坚决地付出——基蒂瞬间认识到了他从未有过的个性,他的道德。她的独立性,他作为一个人的独立性。她强烈的自爱本能地、无意识地把他的生命变成了她的附属品。现在-?他的奉献从未如此明显、如此得到证实。与此同时,痛苦的、可怕的声音在内心深处响起,命运的声音,模糊而不可挽回。
她跌坐在他桌子旁边的椅子上,浑身发抖,脸色惨白。
“不,不,”她用手帕遮住眼睛,做出一种孩子气的痛苦姿态,“这一切都是——一个可怕的错误。你妈妈说得很对。当然,她讨厌你嫁给我——现在——现在她会看到我所做的一切。我完全猜到她今天对我的想法!我无法控制——我会继续——如果你让我和你在一起。有一种扭曲——我体内有一滴黑色的水滴。我和其他人不一样。”
她的声音很轻,却让艾希感到难以忍受的痛苦。
“你这个可怜、疲惫、饥饿的孩子,”他说,跪在她身边。 “用你的手臂搂住我的脖子。我抱你上楼吧。”
她抽泣着按照吩咐做了。阿什的图书馆是这栋杂乱的老式房子的较晚扩建项目,通过后面的一个小楼梯与上面的更衣室相连。他轻而易举地抱起了小小的身影,上楼的半路上,他急躁地亲吻着那娇嫩的脸颊。
“我很高兴你不是波莉·莱斯特,亲爱的!”
凯蒂含着泪笑了。不一会儿,他把她放在自己房间的大沙发上,站在她身边,有些气喘吁吁。
“一切都很好,”基蒂说,她窝在枕头里,“但我们 没有 我们的羽毛!”
她的眼睛开始恢复一点神采。她专注地看着他。
“你看上去非常疲惫。你——你昨晚做了什么?”她转身背对着他。
“我坐起来看书,然后就下楼睡觉了。我以为教练已经不幸了,而你却在阿尔科特队的某个地方。”
“如果我知道的话,”她低声说道,“I 可能已经睡着了。哦,太可怕了——闷热的小房间,还有脏兮兮的毯子。”她厌恶地打了个寒颤。 “还有一个可怜的婴儿,患有百日咳。幸运的是我有一些钱。我给了那个女人一个主权。但她一点也不友善——她从来没有笑过一次。我知道她认为我是个坏人。”
然后她跳了起来。
“坐那儿吧!”她指着沙发脚。阿什服从了她。
“你什么时候知道的?”
“关于部委?六到七之间。后来我看到帕勒姆夫人在圣詹姆斯街开车。她一生中从来没有像向我鞠躬那样享受过任何事情。”
基蒂呻吟了一声,又平静下来,在她的垫子里显得有点皱巴巴的。
“告诉我名字。”
艾什给了她事工名单。她对此发表了一两句精明或尖刻的评论。他完全明白,在她内心深处,她正在发誓要向帕勒姆家族报仇。但她没有发出任何口头威胁。与此同时,在每个人的内心深处都存在着一个更黑暗、更羞辱的事实,他们都不愿再面对这个事实,但他们都知道必须面对它。
有人敲门,布兰奇端着楼下订的托盘出现了。她惊讶地看着她的女主人。
“布兰奇,我们昨晚在河上发生了事故。”基蒂说。 “半小时后回来。我太累了,还没有时间去改变。”
她向女仆隐藏着自己的脸,但当布兰奇离开时,艾什看到她的脸颊在燃烧。
“我讨厌撒谎!”她带着一种身体上的厌恶说道——“现在我想这将是我接下来几周的主要工作。”
确实,她讨厌说谎,艾希也很清楚这一点。事实上,正如她在舞会上所表现的那样,当她迅速的谎言将克利夫从玛丽·莱斯特手中夺走时,她总是有能力的。但总的来说,她的骄傲、她的自负和急躁的脾气使她保持了真实。
也许这个事实代表了阿什温柔的深层源泉之一。无论如何,无论有意无意,此刻他的主要动机之一就是不让过去变得难以忍受,让未来变得没有希望。他从托盘里拿出一些酒和一个三明治,开始喂她。说到一半,她推开了他的手,眼里又盈满了泪水。
“把它放下,”她命令道。当他这样做时,她故意举起他的双手,一只接一只,亲吻着他的手,哭着说:
“威廉!——我对你来说是个糟糕的妻子!”
“别像鹅一样,基蒂。你很清楚——直到最后这件事——也别以为我觉得自己是一个模特!”
“不,”她长长地叹了口气说。 “当然,你应该打败我。”
他微笑着,嘴唇颤抖着。
“也许我还是可以尝试一下。”
她摇了摇头。
“为时已晚。我不再是个孩子了。”
然后她用柔软的手臂搂住他的脖子,紧紧地抱住他,说着最可爱、最令人心酸的话,事实上,她却陷入了低声悔恨的痛苦之中。直到她像以前一样出乎意料地再次脱离了自己——催促、坚持要他送她走。
“让我去哈格特住吧,我和宝贝。” (哈加特是特兰莫尔“地方”之一,最近移交给了年轻人。)“你有时可以来看我。我会园艺——还会写书。我认识的聪明女性中有一半会写故事或戏剧。我为什么不应该呢?
“为什么?确实如此?与此同时,女士,下周我带您去苏格兰。”
“苏格兰?”她用手捂住眼睛。 “‘世界上任何地方——任何地方!’”
“猫咪!”艾希被她的话吓了一跳,抓住了她的手,握住了它们。 “基蒂!——你后悔了——”
“那个人?我是吗?她睁开眼睛,皱起眉头。 “我讨厌他!一想起昨天,我就差点淹死自己了。如果我能把整个世界堆在他和我之间——我会的。但是”——她颤抖着——“但是——如果他坐在那里——”
“你会再次中咒吗?”艾什苦涩地说。
“拼写!”她轻蔑地重复道。然后她从他手中夺过双手,疯狂地把太阳穴的头发甩到脑后。 “我警告过你,”她说——“我警告过你。”
“一个人不会太在意这些警告,基蒂。”
“那就不是我的错了。我不知道自己出了什么问题,”她阴郁地说。 “但我记得对你说过,有时我的大脑着火了。我似乎总是很匆忙——一种绝望、绝望的匆忙!——在人死之前——趁还有时间——去了解或感受某件事。永远有激情——永远有努力。更多生活——更多生活!——即使它会导致痛苦——痛苦——和眼泪。”
她抬起那双奇异而美丽的眼睛,那双眼睛此刻几乎带着一种痴迷的神情,定格在他的脸上。但艾什的印象是她没有看到他。
他意识到了同样的痛苦,同样突然的恐惧,就像在那个永远难忘的夜晚,当她和他谈论《暴风雨》中的面具时,他感受到了同样的痛苦和突然的恐惧。他想起了从格罗斯维尔勋爵那里听到的黑水公司的故事。 “疯了,我亲爱的朋友,疯了!” ——老者频频的评语在他的记忆中闪过。基蒂身上确实有什么不健全的地方吗?
他一言不发、瘫痪了一会儿。然后,他恢复了平静,重新握住了那双冰冷的小手,说道:
“'更多的 光“基蒂,”这是歌德在临终时说的话。更好的祈祷,你不觉得吗?”
他的态度中有一种强烈的、甚至是严厉的坚持,这让基蒂安静了下来。当她完全恢复意识时,她的脸显得极其甜美而悲伤。
“这是人们的祈祷 平静”她低声说道,“我的天性就是饥饿和风暴。杰弗里·克利夫也是如此。这就是为什么我情不自禁地——”
她跳了起来。
“威廉,别废话了。我再也见不到那个人了。该怎么办呢?”
她上下移动——充满了实际的精力和不耐烦——她的情绪完全改变了。他自己的适应了她的。
“目前,不要害怕,”他干巴巴地说。 “为了自己的利益,克利夫将闭嘴并离开伦敦。至于未来——我可以通过一个他不会忽视的人向他传达一些信息。交给我。”
“你不能给他写信,威廉!”凯蒂热情地喊道。
“交给我吧,”他重复道。 “那么假设你带这个男孩——还有玛格丽特·弗伦奇——去哈格特,直到我可以加入你?”
“那你妈妈呢?”她胆怯地说道,走到他身边,将一只手放在他的肩膀上。
“这个也交给我吧。”
“她会多么讨厌看到我,”她低声说道。然后,用另一种语气——“威廉,你给政府多久?”
“也许是六个月——也许更短。我不知道他们如何能坚持到二月之后。”
“然后——我们会 战斗!”基蒂长长地吸了一口气,一边说,一边把额头上的头发抚平。
“请允许我指挥部队!好吧,既然如此,那我就该走了!”他试图站起来,但她仍然抱着他。
“威廉,你吃早餐了吗?”
“我不记得了。”
“坐下来,吃我的一个三明治。”她把一根切成条,站在他身边开始喂他。一阵敲门声惊醒了她。
“别动!”她断然说道,然后跑去开门。
“拜托,夫人,”布兰奇说,“特兰莫尔夫人想见您。”
基蒂吃了一惊,脸红了。她不确定地环顾艾什。
“请夫人上来。”艾什轻声说道。
女仆离开了。
“如果你想的话,请喂我,基蒂,”艾什仍然坐着说。
凯蒂回来了,呼吸急促,脚步颤抖。她疑惑地看着艾什——然后她的眼睛闪闪发光——她明白了。她跪在他身边,亲吻他的外套袖子,脸颊贴在他的袖子上——带着悔恨的激情。
他弯下腰,抚摸她的头发,对她低语。与此同时,他的心灵被各种感觉撕裂,可以说,这些感觉是相互观察的。发生的这件事非常严重——非常重要。它可能轻易地毁掉了两个人的生命。他是否以应有的方式处理了这件事——让基蒂感受到了事情的严重性?
然后,他心中的乐观主义者不耐烦地问道,“夸大这该死的事情有什么好处”?那家伙已经得到了教训——今后可能会被彻底赶出他和凯蒂的生活。又怎么可能 he 怀疑这种执着的忏悔和这些温柔的吻中所表现出的爱吗?请问,土耳其人的婚姻理论会做得更好吗?基蒂有她自己的疯狂方式。没有任何来自外界的命令束缚了她;但爱情让她站了起来。他身上有一种东西,既能战胜她的反抗,又能战胜她的屈服。
与此同时,在凉爽的客厅里,绿色的 人 特兰莫尔夫人露出愉快的外国表情,她一直在等待女仆回来。她对屋子里的每一个声音都畏缩不前。来自凯蒂法国镜子中她自己的倒影;主要来自她自己的想法。
荷兰宫的伊迪丝·曼利夫人是最无辜的八卦者。一位小女士,她自己没有做错事,也没有想到别人有错;像修道院的孩子一样心胸开阔、毫无疑心。 “可怜的凯蒂女士!阿尔科特队的教练似乎出了什么问题,他们不知何故与他们的队伍产生了分歧。我记不清他们到底说了什么,但克利夫先生相信他们会赶上火车。虽然我的孩子——你还记得我的孩子吗?他们刚刚把他排进了八强!——以为他们正在运行它 宁 精细。”
五分钟后,在晚餐室里,特兰莫尔夫人遇到了玛德琳·阿尔科特的丈夫,他顺便向她讲述了这次失败的探险的整个故事——特兰莫尔夫人。阿尔科特的寒冷,以及克里夫被派往希尔街的消息。 “不得不推迟它真是太无聊了!希望他能及时赶到阻止凯蒂女士的准备。哦,谢谢,玛德琳没事。”
然后就没有了,因为人群的涌动将他们冲散了。
此后,特兰莫尔夫人彻底睡意全无——如果,事实上,在下午公布内阁名单以及随后威廉的信之后,任何事情仍然是可能的。清晨,她给基蒂寄了一张纸条——一封 埃塞气球,在极大的恐惧中被派遣。
“夫人还没回来呢。”从希尔街传来的消息,从男仆冷漠的嘴里传达出来,让特兰莫尔夫人浑身颤抖。
“威廉在哪儿?”她痛苦地对自己说。 “我必须找到他——但是——我该对他说什么呢?”然后她上了楼,没有叫女仆,就用颤抖的双手穿上了走路的衣服。
她在家人没有发现的情况下溜了出去,从格罗夫纳街的拐角处乘坐了一辆双轮马车。在马车上,她小心翼翼地拉下面纱,因为耻辱——长久以来的追求,长久以来的期盼——终于降临到了她身上。所有关于基蒂行为的各种事实、陈述和迹象,在过去的几周里一直通过最多样化的渠道源源不断地涌向她,现在却在她的脑海和记忆中涌动——一个悲伤的、该死的主人。时不时地,当她看到街上的标语牌时,她的心就会重新收缩。她的儿子,她的威廉,在他的天赋和力量本应处于全盛时期,却被他自己的妻子所困惑、绊倒、打败了!慷慨而不懈的爱。她不仅会阻止或毁掉他的事业吗——他也会因此而蒙羞、受到打击吗?
当她按响希尔街的门铃时,她几乎站不住了,费了很大的劲才问出自己的问题:
“阿什先生在家吗?”
“先生。我相信阿什,我的女士,刚刚出去,”威尔逊说。 “她的夫人大约一个小时前才到达,所以耽搁了他。”
伊丽莎白没有背叛任何事情。她班的训练进行得很好。
“他们在图书馆吗?”她问——“还是在楼上?”
威尔逊回答说,他相信夫人在她的房间里,阿什先生也在她身边。
“请询问阿什先生我是否可以见他几分钟。”
威尔逊消失了,特兰莫尔夫人一动不动地站着,环顾着威廉的书本和桌子。她喜欢他的手触摸过的一切,他性格的每一个标志——他大学时代的获奖书籍,墙上的照片,其中许多来自他的伊顿公学,他最喜欢的猎人的照片,她自己的画作为他制作了他的第一匹小马。
他的写字台上放着外交部的一个信箱。特兰莫尔夫人转过身去。这让她难以忍受地想起前一天的震惊和失败。在过去的六个月里,她比以往任何时候都更加高兴地意识到他秘密的、不断加深的野心,而她自己的心也因为他的失望而感到灼烧。然而,任何人都不应该通过她来猜测这一点。她一收到俱乐部的来信,在脱离社会许多周之后,她就强迫自己去参加荷兰屋的聚会,这样就没有人会说她隐藏了自己,没有人会立刻认为她像帕勒姆勋爵这样的男人的任何敌对行为,或者那个低俗女人的任何恶意,都可能羞辱她的儿子或她自己。
突然,她看到基蒂的手套——基蒂那只又破又脏的手套——躺在地板上。她紧握着颤抖的双手,试图让自己稳定下来。丈夫和妻子在一起。他们之间到底发生了什么悲剧?
当然有 可能 发生过事故;她的想法可能全是错误和幻觉。但特兰莫尔夫人几乎不允许自己鼓励另一种希望。凯蒂回来就像是大胆的举动。难以置信!——深不可测!——就像她所做的一切一样。
“小姐说,小姐,请您到她的房间去一下好吗?”
布兰奇用胆怯的声音传达了这个信息。特兰莫尔夫人吃了一惊,看着女孩,很想问她,但没有勇气。她机械地、沉默地跟在后面。她能、必须面对吗?是的——为了她儿子的缘故。她在心里祈祷,希望自己能够以基督徒的力量和勇气来应对眼前的考验。
门开了。她看到漂亮、色彩鲜艳的房间里有两个人影,威廉跨坐在基蒂面前的椅子上,基蒂就像一只小母鸟,盘旋在他上方,手里拿着似乎是一小块面包和——她小心翼翼地把黄油滴进他嘴里。尽管眼睛又红又肿,她的脸上却充满了乐趣,艾什的笑声也反映了她的笑声。家庭生活,场景中的亲密感情——伊丽莎白·特兰莫尔站在这些东西面前喘息着。
“最亲爱的妈妈!”艾什惊叫道,站了起来。
基蒂转过身来。一看到特兰莫尔夫人,她就退缩了。她的笑容消失了。她的嘴唇颤抖着。
“威廉!”——她追上他并拍拍他的肩膀。 “我——我不能——我害怕。如果妈妈想再跟我说话——就来告诉我吧。”
然后,凯蒂掩起脸,旋风般地逃走了。更衣室的门在她身后关上,只剩下母子俩。
“母亲!”艾什说着,高高兴兴地向她走来,伸出双手。 “别问我,亲爱的。基蒂一直是个傻孩子,但现在一切都会好起来的。至于帕勒姆一家——这有什么关系?——来帮我把他们送去平局吧!”
特兰莫尔夫人退缩了。这一次,那张英俊的脸——尽管脸色苍白——的幽默感在她看来是一种冒犯——不,是一种耻辱。所发生的事情不仅仅是 逆转不仅仅是火车和长途汽车的事故,从基蒂的眼中——从威廉所做的一切来看,这已经足够明显了 不能 说,不亚于他所说的。而且还是这么轻浮!——这难以置信的轻浮!正如她所知道的那样,威廉真的没有高度的荣誉感,他在文雅和尊严方面都失败了吗?
事实上,这和院长的哭声是一样的——在另一个较小的场合。但在这种情况下,这是无声的。特兰莫尔夫人跌坐在椅子上,一只手交给儿子,另一只手遮住脸。他语速又快又温柔,请求她的帮助——他们俩都不知道是为了什么——她对搬到哈格特的建议——等等。特兰莫尔夫人没说什么。但这是一种痛苦的沉默。如果阿什本人因愤怒而失败,那么他母亲的抗议之心则足以满足这一点。
第三部分•发展
”Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille,
Sich ein Character in dem Strom, der Welt”。
“凯蒂女士在这里做什么?”达雷尔环顾四周说道。他刚从城里来到灰烬庄园,发现哈格特的房子和花园完全荒废了,除了阿尔科特太太,她独自一人在房子周围的宽阔草坪上闲逛,手里拿着香烟和一本小说。在三个侧面。
他一边说话,一边举起一把椅子放在她旁边,一棵雪松树下,这棵雪松树在草地上留下了深深的阴影。
“她在 Lady Bountiful 演奏,”奥尔科特夫人说。 “她做得不太好,但是——”
“——用约翰逊的话来说,令人惊奇的是她竟然应该这么做。还要别的吗?”
“我明白——她正在写一本书——一本小说。”
达雷尔仰起头,无声地笑了很久。
“Il ne manquait que cela,”他说——“凯蒂女士应该喜欢文学!”
奥尔科特夫人目光锐利地看着他。
“为什么不?我们这些轻浮的人比你想象的要聪明得多。”
这位女士慵懒傲慢的态度一点也不失体面。达雷尔做出了一个倾向。
“夫人不用提醒!”最近在艺术俱乐部举办的阿尔科特夫人素描展览引起了相当大的轰动。 “很快你就会让我们这些可怜的专业人士没有生存的空间。”
他微笑中的轻微不敬让他的同伴感到恼火,但天气很热,她没有准备好妙语连珠。她扔掉香烟,只是低声说道:
“基蒂对这个村庄非常失望。”
“他们比她想象的更野蛮?”
“恰恰相反。没有偷猎者,也没有谋杀。女孩们更愿意结婚,而特兰莫尔一家则付出了如此之多,以至于没有人有哪怕一丁点的理由去挨饿。基蒂从他们身上什么也得不到。”
“以文学材料的方式?”
奥尔科特夫人点点头。
“上周她非常沮丧,以至于想放弃小说而转向新闻业。”
“天!政治的?”
“哦, 高级政治, 当然。”
“嗯。内阁部长的妻子经常激发文章的灵感。我不记得他们写过这些文章。”
“嗯,基蒂愿意尝试一下。”
“经过艾希的许可?”
“天啊,不!但是基蒂,如你所知”——凯蒂夫人阿尔科特谨慎地左右看了一眼——“我行我素。”她相信她可以为丈夫的政策做出巨大贡献。”
达雷尔的嘴唇抽动着。
“如果你处于阿什的位置,你会宁愿你的妻子忽视还是支持你的政治利益?”
阿尔科特夫人耸了耸肩。
“基蒂去年把它们搞得一团糟。”
“毫无疑问。她忘记了他们的存在。但我想如果我是艾什,我应该更害怕她记得。顺便说一句——这里的玻璃好像是‘Set Fair’?”
他那疑惑的笑容并不完全是善意的。但世人对菲利普·达雷尔的要求并不是仅仅仁慈——即使是对他的老朋友也是如此。
“惊人!”奥尔科特夫人扬起眉毛说道。 “基蒂为他感到无比自豪,而且雄心勃勃。当然,这就是帕勒姆勋爵来访的原因。”
“帕勒姆大人!”达雷尔在座位上跳来跳去,叫道。 “帕勒姆大人!——来这里吗?”
“他明天就到了。正在从苏格兰前往温莎的途中。”
阿尔科特夫人很享受她与同伴的交流所产生的效果。他张大了嘴坐着,显然被吓得失去了自制力。
“为什么,我以为凯蒂女士——”
“发誓要报仇吗?所以,从某种意义上说,她做到了。据了解,她和帕勒姆夫人并没有见过面,除了——”
“在正式场合,还有接待下属,”达雷尔说道,他太不耐烦了,不让她把话说完。 “是的,我收集的。但你的意思是 主 帕勒姆能被允许讲和吗?
玛德琳·阿尔科特躺下,笑了起来。
“基蒂想尝试一下管理他。”
达雷尔也跟着她一起欢笑。那个白发、子弹头、精明、精明的男人当时掌握着由基蒂或夏娃的任何其他女儿(总是除了他的妻子)管理的英格兰英超联赛的概念,一定需要震惊那些有过哪怕一丁点的人。认识帕勒姆勋爵是一件美妙的荒唐事。
突然,达雷尔控制住自己,向前倾身。
“请问——诗人在哪里?”
“杰弗里?在巴尔干的某个地方,不是吗?——正在进行一场革命。”
达雷尔点点头。
“我记得。他们说他是马里尼察革命委员会的成员。与此同时,今天有一本新诗集出版了,”达雷尔说,瞥了一眼扔在他身边的报纸。
“我已经看过了。最后的‘肖像’——”
“是凯蒂女士。”他们低声说话。
“我想,这是毫无疑问的,”基蒂最好的朋友说。 “作为诗歌,在我看来,这是书中最好的东西,但它的大胆!”她扬起了眉毛,半是不情愿,半是轻蔑的钦佩。
“她看到了吗?”
阿尔科特夫人回答说,她没有注意到屋子里有任何副本,基蒂也没有说过这件事,考虑到基蒂的天性,如果她收到的话,她可能会这么做。
然后他们俩都陷入了沉思,达雷尔从沉思中走了出来,说道:
“我猜去年有某个非常重要的人物插手了?”
这又引发了另一条流言蜚语,不过,阿尔科特夫人在其中也表现出同样消息灵通。无论如何,人们普遍报道说,老莫克姆公爵,埃莉诺·克利夫夫人家族的一家之主,北方伟大的托利党福音派人士,英国政治和贵族生活中的一位家长,受到了一些人的诱导。一种无形的压力,要求他向亲戚坦白地谈论基蒂·阿什女士的问题。克利夫对公爵抱有不可忽视的期望。因此,他吞下了这次演讲,并在竞选失败后,再次带着一个重要的报纸委员会离开英国,去观察巴尔干地区的事件。
“愿他留在那里!”达雷尔说。 “当然,整件事都被夸大得荒谬了。”
“是吗?”奥尔科特夫人冷静地说。 “基蒂所说的大部分内容都是当之无愧的。”然后——在他开始时——“当然,不要误解我。如果对基蒂提出二十个离婚诉讼,我什么也不会相信——没什么!”这些话的语气和手势尽其所能地强调。 “但至于那些讨厌她的人讲述她的故事,并将继续讲述她——”
“这只是她播种的收获?”
“自然。可怜的基蒂!”
玛德琳·阿尔科特把她瘦弱的脸颊放在一只更加虚弱的手上,若有所思地望着外面雪松的黑暗。她的语气既不居高临下,也不刻薄。相反,它所表达的讽刺温柔的阴影适合这个主题,以及最近在她和达雷尔之间涌现的奇怪的亲密关系。正如我们所见,她开始治疗他 向下。他也以同样的方式回报了她。从这方面来说,他可以与任何大天使相媲美。然后发生了一些意外——也许是这个男人出版了一本散文集,完美地表达了他尖酸刻薄的才华——也许是在北方乡村别墅的一次偶然的聚会,那位女士在那里发现了这位文人,她在困境中唯一的资源。一群性格不合的无足轻重的人——已经显示出他们天生的兼容性。两人都在秘密反抗环境和自己的生活。然而,虽然男人的态度的原因——他的嫉妒、失败和野心——女人相当清楚,但他对她的了解几乎和他们的友谊开始时一样。
他稍微了解她的丈夫——一个热心、有天赋的小伙子,近年来成为一名强大的高级牧师,在某个团体中以阿马夫人的朋友而闻名,这位缪斯女神——脆弱、严肃而美丽——是几位伟人的缪斯,老一代人中还有伟大的基督徒。阿尔科特夫人有自己的密友,一般都是男性。但她厌倦了它们并经常更换它们。阿尔科特先生每年都会有部分时间在阿马夫人位于康沃尔郡的家中度过。在那段时间,他的妻子四处拜访。
与此同时,她的薄唇却闭口不谈自己的事情。当然,她给人的印象是一个不快乐的女人,达雷尔确信有一些悲惨的并发症。但他和他询问过的任何人都不知道这可能是什么。
“顺便问一下——凯蒂女士在哪里?——这里人多吗?”
达雷尔一边说话,一边转过身来仔细检查房子及其通道。哈加特庄园是一座大而普通的宅邸,矗立在广阔的“土地”和枯燥的种植园中间,有时可以看到邻近煤矿的高大烟囱。它带着一种中产阶级保守党的舒适气息,达雷尔审视它时,脸上露出了微笑。
“基蒂正在参加农业展——还有一个聚会。”
“扮演大小姐? 是什么 一个房子!”
“是的。基蒂讨厌它。但这对明天的聚会来说将会非常有利。”
“半个县——那种事?”
“所有类型 县——一些版税——还有帕勒姆勋爵。” *
“帕勒姆勋爵是终点和目标吗?我以为我听到了轮子的声音。”
奥尔科特夫人站了起来,他们漫步朝屋子走去。
“那聚会呢?”达雷尔继续说道。
“不是特别令人兴奋。格罗斯维尔勋爵——”
“此外,我认为, 加尔松设立的区域办事处外,我们在美国也开设了办事处,以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“
奥尔科特夫人笑了。
“——曼利夫妇、特兰莫尔夫人、弗伦奇小姐、米尔福德院长和他的妻子埃迪·赫尔斯顿——”
“据我所知,那是凯蒂女士的本科生崇拜者?”
“和你说话是没有用的——你知道所有的八卦。还有一些县里的大人物,我不记得他们的名字了——今晚来吃晚饭。”奥尔科特夫人忍住了哈欠。
“我很好奇阿什如何取得胜利,”达雷尔在他们中途停了下来时说道。
“他还是一样。不!”马德琳·阿尔科特纠正自己说:“不,不完全是。”他 意思 去取得胜利,而他 知道 他已经这样做了。”
“我亲爱的女士!”达雷尔喊道——“一个相当 巨大 不同之处!阿什以前从未评估过自己或自己的人生前景。”
“好吧,现在——你会发现他盘点了很多东西。”
“包括凯蒂女士吗?”
他的同伴笑了。
“他不会再让她插手了。”
“人类提议,”达雷尔说。 “你的意思是他变得野心勃勃了?”
阿尔科特夫人似乎觉得应付这些高尚的事情很困难。她一边给自己扇风,一边懒洋洋地想,英国贵族家庭中的政治热情如此强烈且尚未消散,最终已经严重地控制了威廉·阿什。他有伟大的改革计划,并且尽其所能地掩盖它,他的心全在这些计划上。因此,他的妻子不再是他的职业,而是——
阿尔科特夫人犹豫了一句话。
“他几乎没有休息吗?”达雷尔笑道。
“我真的不会再讨论基蒂了,”奥尔科特夫人不耐烦地说。 “他们来了!哈喽!基蒂现在掌握了什么?
三辆马车一前一后地驶上长长的道路。第一个座位上坐着凯蒂,她身旁穿着护士服,两人对面有一个难以辨认的包袱,很快就露出了一个头。马车停在台阶前。凯蒂跳了下来,她和护士把包裹搬了出来。步兵出现了;下一节车厢的一些客人也去帮忙。一阵骚动和骚动,凯蒂和她的同伴们就消失在屋子里了。
伊迪丝·曼利夫人和格罗斯维尔勋爵开始穿过草坪。
“什么事?”当他们聚集在一起时,奥尔科特夫人问道。
“基蒂撞倒了一个男孩,”格罗斯维尔勋爵显然很恼火地说。 “这个流氓没有受伤,但基蒂必须把他抱起来,然后和护士一起开车送他回家。 “我没有受伤,妈妈,”男孩说。 '哦!但你一定是,”基蒂说。我提出带他去见他母亲,并给他半克朗。 “照顾他是我的责任,”基蒂说。她亲自把他举了起来——这个肮脏的小流浪汉!——然后把他放进了马车里。附近站着一些工人和马夫,其中一人唱道:“为基蒂·阿什女士欢呼三声!”如此荒唐的场面,你绝对没见过!”
老者轻蔑地耸了耸肩。
“基蒂女士总是那么友善,”和蔼可亲的伊迪丝女士说道。 “但是她漂亮的裙子——我 是 抱歉!”
“哦,不——只是买新的借口,”奥尔科特夫人说。
特兰莫尔院长和夫人走近了——在他们身后又是阿什和温斯顿夫人。
“嗯,老家伙!”艾什一边说,一边拍着达雷尔的肩膀。 “很高兴见到你。你看起来好像那个该死的伦敦一直在榨干你的生命。晚饭前过来散步吗?”
两人于是把谈话者留在草坪上,走进公园。艾什戴着草帽,穿着浅色西装,给人一种一贯的坚强和幽默的印象。他一如既往地快乐、友善、风趣。但达雷尔很快就发现或想象出变化的迹象。任何其他人都会认为艾什的谈话本身是坦率的——不,是轻率的。达雷尔立即猜测或想象其中有官方保留的影子,沉默的大片,就像一个老朋友有权怨恨的那样。
“可见他本人是一个怎样的人物!”
然而达雷尔可能是第一个承认阿什有权利认为自己是一个人物的人。他的全部智力力量和他在国家的影响力的突然暴露,去年冬天的大选为他提供了机会,这仍然是记者和政治家们激动人心的记忆。他参加选举时的名誉略有下降,没有人花太多功夫去猜测他的未来。在一系列制定原则并证明其政党行动正确的演讲之后,他已经成为英国最重要的人物之一,帕勒姆勋爵本人今后必须以准平等的条件对待他。阿什现在是内政大臣,如果帕勒姆勋爵的痛风恶化,那么命运很快就会把他带到什么高度。
意志——钢铁般的目标——这一切都是通过它完成的——这就是其中令人惊奇的部分。而且完全独立。达雷尔猜想,帕勒姆勋爵一定常常对在夏季危机中阻止阿什晋升的小阴谋感到遗憾。它唤醒了一个懒惰的人采取行动,并使他摆脱了对虐待他的领导人的任何特殊义务。阿什的竞选活动在各方面都不是很方便。但帕勒姆勋爵不得不忍受。
当两个男人在一条挂着黄色旗帜的小溪旁漫步穿过公园时,夏日的夜晚变得更加广阔。就连昏暗的米德兰风景,以及被烟熏黑的树林和死气沉沉的草丛,也呈现出灿烂的光芒。柔软、交错的云层在夕阳西下前散开。水里泛起了金色的光芒,每只白顶鹤和水母鸡都在火焰中闪闪发亮。几声鸟叫,远处收割机的叫喊声,溪边水旗的沙沙声,这些是唯一的声音——英国和平的传统声音。
“乔利,不是吗?”艾什环顾四周说道——“即使是这个被宠坏的国家!为什么我们要去扼杀那场野兽般的表演!”
他的心情愉悦和放松也传达给了达雷尔。他们的谈话比几个月来更加亲密、更加自由。与他的校友辉煌且不断发展的职业生涯形成鲜明对比,达雷尔对自己的命运微薄的痛苦意识变得柔和和放松。他几乎原谅了阿什冬天的成功,以及那微妙地增强的权威和自信的语气,这在牧师的举止或谈话中时不时地见证着他们。然而,他们几乎没有触及政治。两人都累了,谈话渐渐变成了典型的男性八卦——“现在——在做什么?” “你见过某某吗?” “你还记得大学里的那个家伙吗?”之类的话,伴随着阿什最好的雪茄。
这半个小时是如此令人愉快,大学里的亲密关系又如此强烈地重新出现,达雷尔的脑海里突然浮现出一个想法。他来到哈格特并不是纯粹为了闲暇度假——远非如此。此刻,他厌倦了以文学为职业,并敏锐地意识到,抱有模糊野心的时代已经过去了。在内政部的礼物中,一个职位出现了,一个重要的职位。毫无疑问,这意味着放弃更辉煌的事物。达雷尔很乐意抛弃他们。事实上,他决定申请这个职位对他自己来说似乎是一种谦虚的行为——几乎是一种牺牲。至于所需的技术资格,他很清楚可能还有比他更优秀的人。但是,毕竟,什么可能不是一般能力所追求的——一般能力因兴趣而适当僵化?
至于兴趣,如果不是现在的话,什么时候才能为他服务——通过他与艾什的旧友谊?对一个备受恳求的凡人,还有你的朋友,即使是更微妙的自爱,也可能会建议保持沉默,或者至少更加渐进。事实上,如此迅速地讲话远非他的目的。但时间和人都在这里了!在那里,在一个遥远的乡村小镇上,一个女人——达雷尔乡间别墅里的熟人根本没有怀疑过她的存在——正等待着,在她眼中,这个职位似乎是一个条件——也许是不可或缺的。达雷尔内心深处的渴望无法抵挡诱惑。
于是,一开始就紧张起来——“顺便说一下,我想咨询你一件私人事情。当然,回答也好,不回答也好,随你的便。当然,我理解其中的困难!”——他决定冒险一试,不久之后,请愿者就开始了自己的职业生涯。
在第一次惊愕之后——惊讶地扬起眉毛——艾希陷入了令人不安的沉默——直到达雷尔雄辩的停顿中,他的脸色突然变了,带着他过去那种漫不经心的自由和感情,他用一只手臂搭住了达雷尔的肩膀。 ,带着一股冲动——
“我说,老伙计——别——别再犯傻了!”
听到这句话的男人面色苍白。他的嘴唇抽动着。他默默地走着。艾希看着他,结结巴巴地说:
“哎呀,我亲爱的菲利普,这就是你的灭亡!”
达雷尔什么也没说。阿什仍然扣押着他的朋友,匆匆地谈到了这个职位的缺点,“对于一个像你这样有天赋的人来说”,然后——更加谨慎地——谈到了它的特殊要求,而达雷尔不具备其中一项——暗示了申请这个职位的人。 ,科学和专业对他自己的影响,他强烈的责任感——“太糟糕了,不是吗,像我这样的笨蛋必须决定这些事情”——等等。
徒然。达雷尔笑了,恢复了平静,改变了话题。但当他们快步走回屋子时,艾什知道,也许他失去了一位朋友。达雷尔痛苦的灵魂又对未来的一天进行了清算。
当他们靠近房子时,他们发现一大群人仍然在草坪上徘徊,基蒂刚刚从花园门口出现。她在一位英俊的剑桥小伙子的陪同下出来了,他曾是她在克拉肖夫人舞会上的舞伴。他显然全神贯注于她的社交,他们兴高采烈地走近,互相笑着、互相调侃。
“嗯,凯蒂,受伤的怎么样了?”艾什一边说,一边坐到了阿尔科特夫人旁边的椅子上。
“干得很好,”基蒂说。 “今晚我就送他回家。”
“同时,你把他安置在我的更衣室里了吗?我只是询问信息而已。”
“没有另一个角落了,”基蒂说。
“那里!”艾什向众神和人类发出呼吁。 “你觉得我去晚饭时穿什么衣服?”
“哦,现在,威廉,别累了!”基蒂不耐烦地说。 “他遍体鳞伤”——(格罗斯维尔勋爵抱怨道,“他碍事了,就该好好惩罚他)——“护士和我用山金车把他包起来了。”
她走到艾什身边,用尽可能快的语气低声说话。小迪安总是情不自禁地看着她,认为她比以往任何时候都更美丽,也更狂野。她的眼睛——很难说它们在她精致的脸上闪闪发光——它们闪闪发光;她的动作比他记忆中的更加夸张。她的动作本身就焦躁不安。
艾什耐心地听着——然后说道:
“我没办法,基蒂——你真的必须把他移走。”
“不可能的!”她说,脸颊发红。
“我去和威尔逊谈谈; “他会处理好的,”艾什站起身来说道。
基蒂追着他,不停地争吵。
他懒洋洋地走着,时不时地转过身来看着她,微笑着,提出异议,帽子戴在脑后。
“你看到区别了,”阿尔科特夫人在达雷尔耳边说道。 “去年基蒂就会如愿以偿。今年她不会了。”
达雷尔耸耸肩。
“这些家庭生活应该远离人们的视线,你不觉得吗?”
玛德琳·阿尔科特好奇地看着他。
“散步愉快吗?”她说。
达雷尔做了个小鬼脸。
“这位伟人居高临下。”
玛德琳·阿尔科特的脸上仍然带着疑惑。
“触摸 伟大的福利?=
“那么,谁能逃脱呢?”达雷尔痛苦地说。
聚会的大部分人都散了。草坪上只有特兰莫尔夫人和玛格丽特·弗兰奇。玛格丽特正在为基蒂写一些家庭笔记;特兰莫尔夫人坐在一旁沉思,面前摆着一本书,但她并没有在读。弗伦奇小姐时不时地看她一眼。阿什的母亲开始比她以前更明显地表现出岁月的重量。在过去的三年里,他的脸发生了明显的变化。头发也是如此。长时间的护理工作,以及丈夫的可悲的变化,丈夫一直是女人的骄傲,庇护着她半意识的依赖者,毫无疑问,在这位长期抵抗时间的美人身上留下了深深的印记。然而玛格丽特·弗伦奇认为,特兰莫尔夫人生活中持续不断的、令人疲惫不堪的焦虑应该与她的儿子而不是她的丈夫有关。所有对她丈夫失望的野心、种族和历史的自豪感都倾注在她对儿子的热爱上。她现在为他的幸福和成功而活。两人都不断受到基蒂的个性和存在的威胁。
至少,玛格丽特·弗伦奇清楚地知道,这就是阿什母亲内心深处的说服——很快就变成了狂热。事实上,威廉暂时可能已经克服了基蒂过去行为的后果。但那个鲁莽、不驯服的性格仍然在他身边,为天知道会发生什么陷阱和灾难做好准备。特兰莫尔夫人生活在恐惧之中。在她外表的甜蜜和尊严的举止之下,难道没有发展出比恐惧更糟糕的东西——仇恨,它是爱的奇怪诞生之一?
如果是这样,那只是吗?很多时候玛格丽特都会愤怒地否认这一点。
确实,随着时间的推移,基蒂的怪癖似乎越来越严重。前一个冬天的特点是,首先是一次疯狂的愚蠢的扭转局面——涉及到追求一种特定的媒介,而该媒介的诉讼最终使他上了被告席;然后是对狩猎的狂热热情,伴随着一系列新的调情,在特兰莫尔夫人看来,每一次都比前一次更不体面。之后——大选期间——政治阶段!基蒂最不幸地发现她可以在公共场合讲话,并且爱上了自己的声音。在阿什自己的竞争中,当特兰莫尔夫人用法国人的诱饵成功地将她引诱到伦敦时,她的俏皮话和轻率行为已经开始造成危害。 千里眼,基蒂每晚都与他一起诱惑守护命运秘密的众神,直到威廉的民意调查结果公布。
这一切都是令人悲哀的真实。然而,没有人能说基蒂在这波折的一年里对她的丈夫造成了多大的伤害。艾什不再是她盲目的奴隶;他的事业把他带到了连他母亲都会满意的高度。有时,玛格丽特倾向于认为基蒂现在对他和他母亲的影响力比他们各自应得的影响力要小。她——年轻的女人——感受到了艾什新的、不断发展的解放的悲剧。私下里——经常——她站在凯蒂一边!
“玛格丽特!”
那声音是凯蒂的。她跑了出来,淡粉色的裙子在她周围飘扬。 “你看到宝贝了吗?”
玛格丽特回答说他和他的护士就在眼前。
基蒂逃过草坪去见孩子的婴儿车。她把他抱起来,抱在怀里走向玛格丽特和特兰莫尔夫人。
“这不是很可怜吗?”当母子走近时,玛格丽特低声说道。特兰莫尔夫人给了她一个悲伤而同意的表情。
在过去的六个月里,这孩子表现出了大脑作怪的迹象——一种奇怪的冷漠,时不时地因脾气暴躁而打破。医生们并不鼓励。基蒂有时会最热情地尝试唤醒孩子迟钝的智力,有时甚至是几周,她几乎无法让自己去看他。
现在她把他带到了特兰莫尔夫人旁边的座位上。她一直试图让他注意到一个新玩具。但孩子用茫然而呆滞的眼神看着她,玩具从他手里掉了下来。
“他几乎不认识我,”基蒂用低沉的声音说道,她痛苦地用双手抱住这个三岁的婴儿,看着他的脸,仿佛她会从他的脸上看出一些理智和认可的迹象。
但蓝色的眼睛没有流露出任何反应,直到突然间,孩子以一种无限疲倦的姿态,向后靠在她身上,长长地叹了口气,把白皙的头靠在她的胸前。
基蒂抽泣了一声,弯下腰去吻他——一直吻他。
“亲爱的小猫!”特兰莫尔夫人非常感动地说。 “我认为——部分是——他厌倦了炎热。”
基蒂摇摇头。
“带他!”她对护士说——“带他走吧!我无法忍受。”
护士把他从她身边带走,基蒂用一种凶猛的态度擦干了眼泪。
“帖子来了!”她说着,跳了起来,似乎决心尽快摆脱悲伤,而护士则把孩子抱走了。
男仆把信送过草坪。其中一些是给特兰莫尔夫人和玛格丽特·弗伦奇的。在随后的一般开场和朗读中,两位女士有一段时间都没有注意到基蒂。突然,玛格丽特·弗伦奇抬起头来。她看到基蒂一动不动地坐着,腿上放着一本书,书的包装纸放在她身旁的草地上。她的手指上翻着一页;她的眼睛注视着公园远处的地平线,充满了兴奋。薄薄的紧身衣下,急促的呼吸声清晰可见。
“基蒂——该穿衣服了!”玛格丽特摸着她说道。
基蒂站了起来,没有对他们任何一个说一句话,然后快步走开,她的双手仍然拿着书,垂在身前,眼睛盯着地面。
“哦,基蒂!”玛格丽特笑着抗议,她弯腰捡起了基蒂的信,其中一些还没有打开,散落在草地上,因为它们从她的腿上掉落下来。
但拖着裙子的小身影已经听不见了。
晚餐时,基蒂精神抖擞——钻石和蕾丝闪闪发光,格罗斯维尔勋爵认为这远远超出了场合的需要。 “打扮得像集市上的喜剧女王!”这是他内心的评论,他已经向妻子说出了他应该用来描述整个聚会的短语。正如人们所期待的帕勒姆勋爵一样,他的到来也显示出了半和解的迹象。没有什么可以促使基蒂邀请她的姨妈;某个周日的记忆太强烈了。格罗斯维尔夫人则坚称,没有任何事情可以促使她加入基蒂的董事会。对此,她的丈夫持一定的怀疑态度。然而,她的决定并没有被尝试。事实上,是阿什邀请了格罗斯维尔勋爵,格罗斯维尔勋爵是自己家里的主人,无意与威廉·阿什决裂,正当这位绅士的陪伴变得比平常更值得拥有时,他接受了这个邀请。邀请。
但基蒂极大地考验了他的耐心。晚饭后,她坚持要翻桌子,格罗斯维尔勋爵被气喘吁吁地拖进客厅的窗户,追逐一张桌子,打破了一把椅子,最后在花坛上跳舞。他的神学受到这些诉讼的困扰,他的消化也受到了困扰。院长微笑着接过它。但院长是一位自由主义者。
随后,基蒂和剑桥男孩埃迪·赫尔斯顿用法语表演了一场二白,以供大家娱乐。无论其中能理解什么,最好还是不要理解——至少格罗斯维尔勋爵的印象是这样。他想知道笑得无节制的阿什怎么会允许他的妻子做这样的事情;他唯一的安慰是,这一次,院长——他对基蒂的幻想是荒谬的!——似乎感到不安。无论如何,他在这首曲子进行到一半的时候就走到了图书馆。当然,基蒂自始至终都在愚弄这个男孩。任谁都看得出来,他对她爱得神魂颠倒。而她,似乎与他有着种种神秘的默契。格罗斯维尔勋爵确信他们互相传递了笔记,并做了分配。一天晚上,当他很晚才上床睡觉时,他竟然遇见了那对在午夜过后在长长的过道上来回踱步的情侣!——凯蒂穿着这样的衣服。 便服 只有女演员才该穿的衣服,头发垂在耳朵上——谁都看得出来,男孩失去了理智,失去了平衡。基蒂确实毫不掩饰——甚至尝试着画画 他 他们不合时宜地谈论一些戏剧性的废话或其他;那些脸红完全留给了男孩。
他认为这没有什么坏处。这个小伙子不是杰弗里·克里夫那样的人,毫无疑问,基蒂对刺激的疯狂热爱促使她做出了这些对传统的蔑视。但阿什应该坚定立场;对于一个如此狂野又如此可爱的生物来说,我们不知道这些事情会在哪里结束。在去年的丑闻之后——
对于这一丑闻,格罗斯维尔勋爵作为一个有见识的人,决不赞同他妻子的耸人听闻的想象。基蒂和克利夫在格罗斯维尔公园的表现肯定很糟糕——也就是说,以任何普通标准来判断。这一季的八卦显然聚集在一些比其他事件更严重的事件上,并达到了高潮——尽管没有人确切知道它可能是什么。但艾什似乎终于表明了自己的立场。如果说基蒂突然远赴乡下,以及她和克利夫之间的亲密关系突然瓦解,那些不爱她的人已经读到了他们所喜欢的黑暗事物,那么她的姻亲叔叔就很乐意看到这仅仅是一种纪律行为就丈夫而言。
格罗斯维尔勋爵相信,有关克利夫个人性格的一些谣言已经导致这位绅士在投票中遭到决定性的失败——在一个主要是非国教徒的选区。可怜的特兰莫尔夫人!他看到了她脸上的焦急,心里真的很为她难过。与此同时,他又是一个顽固的流言蜚语者,他以一种饥渴的目光看着她。如果她只 将 有事就跟他商量吧!然而到目前为止,她几乎没有给他任何机会。如果她真的这么做了,他肯定会建议她向儿子施加暂时分居之类的压力。为什么下次治疗开始时凯蒂女士不应该留在哈格特?格罗斯维尔勋爵是墨尔本的朋友,他回忆了这位伟人的早期历史。当卡罗琳·兰姆女士对政治丈夫来说太麻烦时,她被送到布罗克特。当时兰姆先生只是爱尔兰国务卿,在内阁中没有席位。怎么可能一边掌舵国家的大船,一边还要照顾一个轻浮的妻子呢?
艾什和他的客人在楼下逗留至深夜。大约一点钟左右,当他走进更衣室时,他突然被一股烧焦的气味惊醒。好像是从Kitty的房间里传来的。他急忙敲响了她的门。
“猫咪!”
没有答案。他打开门,站了起来。
房间里一片漆黑,只有中央有一个奇怪的物体,上面正在燃烧,冒出浓烟,弥漫在房间里。阿什认出了一个古老的西班牙火盆,用打过的铜制成,立在铁脚上,这是他在几天前玩弄时自己购买的。 金砖四国。上面有一堆轻质材料,燃烧时颤动着,噼啪作响,熊熊燃烧,冒着浓烟,而在它旁边——她的侧影在烟雾中凝固,蜡状的,她金色的头发在奇怪的灯光下变成了白色。基蒂站在下面,她那纤细的身躯在火光和阴影的映衬下,形成了一条警惕、报复和专注的曲线。
“看在运气的份上,你在做什么,基蒂?”艾什叫道。
她没有回答,他走近了。然后他看到在这堆东西的中央,靠着一些小木片,一张杰弗里·克利夫的照片正在慢慢地、令人沮丧地消耗着。火刚刚在他的脸颊上划出了一条线。下肢已被烧焦,右手也枯萎了。
周围都是信件,大部分已被消耗掉;而在罪魁祸首头顶上方的那堆东西的顶部,卡在一根裂开的棍子里,刚刚开始被火焰舔舐,有一个似乎是从书上撕下来的叶子的东西。这本书显然是被撬出来的,它摊开在附近的一把椅子上。
当艾什靠近时,凯蒂长长地吸了一口气。
“挡住!”她说——“别碰它!”
“你这个小鹅!”艾什喊道——“你到底想干什么?”
“烧死一个懦夫的肖像。”基蒂咬牙切齿地说。
阿什把手插进口袋里。
“我希望上帝能忘记这个生物,而不是用这些关注来奉承他!”
基蒂没有回答,但当她把火聚集起来时,艾什抓住了她的手。
“他现在在做什么,基蒂?”
“这是他的诗,”基蒂指着椅子说。 “最后一张是关于我的。”
“可以让我看看吗?”
“它不在那里。”
“啊!我懂了。你已经在这堆东西上名列前茅了。有你的离开,我就能延缓它的毁灭。”他从棍子上抓起叶子,弯下腰,借着燃烧的纸的光亮读起来。基蒂皱着眉头看着他,她的手放在臀部上,睡裙外罩着的白色围巾紧紧地缠绕在她身上,一个苗条、沉思的女巫,有点像卡尼迪娅或西迈萨,打断了她的仇恨仪式。
但阿什没有心情回忆文学。当他把叶子放回裂开的棍子上时,他的嘴唇轻蔑,眉毛愤怒,火焰立即追赶它。
“可恶的东西,该死的无礼!——这就是我要说的一切。看在上帝的份上,基蒂,不要让任何人认为你介意这件事——哪怕只是一瞬间!”
她用奇怪的眼神看着他。 “但是如果我介意的话呢?”
他的脸色变得和她的一样阴沉。 “这是否意味着——你仍然想着他——仍然希望见到他?”
“我不知道,”基蒂慢慢地说。火已经熄灭了。火盆里只剩下一些烧焦的残渣。艾什点燃了煤气灯,露出了悲惨的凯蒂,她因最后一句话的大胆而涨红了脸。他熟练地将她揽入怀中。
“那是虚张声势,”他一边说,一边亲吻她。 “你爱 me!我可能是一根可怜的棍子,但我值得很多悬崖。反抗我——我也会给你写一首更好的诗!”
基蒂脸颊上的颜色再次跃动。她把他推开,抱着他,仔细端详着他英俊而轻蔑的脸,以及他所有的男子气概的外表和态度。她自己的眼皮也动摇了。
“多么愚蠢的场景啊!”她说着,倒在了他的怀里——身体有点软,很屈服。
哈加特村教堂的钟刚刚敲响了六点半。阳光明媚的白色薄雾笼罩着公园和花园。声音和叫喊声在雾气中回响;几乎什么也看不见,但草坪和公园似乎充满了忙碌和准备,随着薄雾飘过,时不时地可以辨认出一群群工人,帐篷出现,旗帜飘扬,推车上满载着长凳和栈桥-桌子在公园的道路和轨道上缓慢地隆隆作响。
房子里挤满了园丁,他们在大厅和客厅里布置一排排华丽的鲜花,园长负责管理,园长比阿什本人尊严得多,他对任何发出噪音的下属咒骂,好像头顶大房子里“品质”的沉睡以及打扰它们的危险是负担重的生活中最重要的利益。
至于女主人,无论如何,都无需谨慎。房子里的钟刚刚跟着教堂的钟敲响了半点,一楼的工人就看到凯蒂夫人下了楼,从客厅的窗户走进花园。在那里,她对准备工作提出了自己的意见,然后继续进入公园,她在这样的时刻出现,以及她的命令的活力和决定令各个承包商和他们的工人感到惊讶。最后,当公园宽阔、烧焦的表面开始散去薄雾时,她终于离开了公园,进入了附近的一片树林。
她胳膊上挎着一个篮子,当她在一棵大橡树的根部里找到了一个长满青苔的座位时,她把篮子打开了。里面有大量写好的书页、一些新的涂鸦纸、墨水和钢笔,以及一个小文件夹。当他们都躺在她身边的苔藓上时,基蒂用一只充满爱意的手翻动床单,到处读着。
“这很好!”她对自己说。 “我发誓一定是这样!”
她把笔浸入墨水中,开始修改。阳光透过头顶茂密的树叶,照在她的白色裙子、小鞋子和浓密的头发上。她戴着一顶来亨亨园帽,下巴下系着粉红色的丝带,早晨清新而精致,她看起来大约十七岁。几个小时的睡眠使那双棕色大眼睛的焦躁平静下来。他们现在充满了温柔和欢乐。
“不知道他会来吗?”
她抬起头来听着。当她这样做的时候,她的眼睛和感觉都被木头的美丽所吸引。清晨孤独时光的神秘似乎仍然存在。无论是阳光还是阴影,都有一种后来人不知道的魔力。在她面前的一块空地上,有一片柳树湖,呈纯亮的粉红色,周围环绕着金色的狗舌草岸。绚丽的色彩给基蒂带来了热烈的喜悦。
“亲爱的,亲爱的世界!”她向它伸出双手,做出孩子气的问候。
然后她眼中的喜悦突然消失了。 “在一个人死去之前——或者一个人的心死去之前,还剩下多少年——可以享受它?”
现在,她感官上的愉悦时刻总是以这种对超越的事物的恐惧而结束——对美丽和欢乐的突然淹没——对未知而残酷的未来来迎接她,就像狭窄道路上的武装刺客一样。
威廉!到时候威廉能救她吗? “威廉是一个 宠儿!”她自言自语地说,脸上写满了向往。
至于另一张——想到火焰爬上照片的形状和表面,她感到非常高兴。或许,一两周后,她是否会听说他得了某种神秘的疾病,就像古代的女巫受害者一样?她浑身颤抖,悔恨之情油然而生——直到这首诗中苦涩的诗行又回到了记忆中——这些诗句描述了一个既没有犯罪的勇气,也没有美德的力量的女人,一个真正的“轻薄的女人”,她的伟大激情永远地与他擦肩而过,向他求爱是一种耻辱,而后悔只是一种软弱。然后她笑了,又开始对她面前的床单充满热情。
林间小道上传来脚步声逼近。她半站起来,微笑着。
树枝分开,达雷尔出现了。他停下来审视凯蒂女士的视野。
“我还没赶上吗?”他把手表举到她面前。
“那你收到我的字条了吗?”
“当然。我感到非常受宠若惊。”他倒在她身旁的苔藓上,他那张蜡黄的、长下巴的脸和黑眼睛的色调充满了早晨的快乐,他的衣服比平常干净得多。 “但他是那些穿着旧衣服看起来好多了的男人之一!”基蒂想。
“那么,凯蒂女士,我能为您做点什么吗?”他微笑着继续说道。
“我想要你的建议,”基蒂说——现在他就在她身边,她不太确定她确实需要这些建议。
“关于你的文学作品?”
她飞快地瞥了他一眼。
“你知道吗?你怎么知道?我一直在写书!”
“所以我想象——”
“而且——而且——”她现在变得急切起来,向前倾身,“我希望你能帮我出版它。这是一个致命的秘密。没人知道-”
“连威廉也不行吗?”
“没有人,”她重复道。 “我不能告诉你这件事,也不能给你看其中的一行字,除非你向我发誓——”
“哦!我发誓,”达雷尔平静地说——“我发誓。”
基蒂疑惑地看了他一会儿,然后继续说道:
“我在各种时候写过这本书——威廉不在的时候——半夜里——在树林里。 没人 知道。你看”——她的小手指拨弄着苔藓——“我有很多优点。如果人们想要带有大S的《社会》,我可以给他们!”
“当然,”达雷尔说。
“而且它总是能让人们感到有趣——不是吗?”
基蒂双手抱住膝盖,坦诚地看着他。
“可以?”达雷尔说。 “这件事已经做得很好了。”
“哦,当然,”基蒂不耐烦地说,“我的东西不合适。你不认为我应该尝试像萨克雷那样写作,是吗?我的 真实 人们-真实 发生的事情——只是名字改变了。”
“啊!”达雷尔坐起来说道——“这听起来令人兴奋。是诽谤吗?”
“嗯,这正是我想知道的,”基蒂慢慢地说。 “当然,我用它编了一个故事。但你必须是个大傻瓜才能不去猜测。我已经把自己放进去了,而且——”
“艾希呢?”
基蒂点点头。 “现在所有关于政治的小说——除了迪兹的小说——都是无稽之谈,不是吗?我只是想从内心描述一个真正的政治家”——她自豪地抬起头——“如何生活,以及他所做的事情。”
“非常棒的主题,”达雷尔说。 “嗯——还有其他人吗?”
凯蒂脸红了。 “你会看到的,”她不确定地说。
达雷尔正嗅着的一束金银花掩盖了他不自觉的微笑。 “我可以看一下吗?”他问道,伸出一只手去拿床单。
她一半不情愿、一半渴望地把它们推向他,他开始把它们翻过来。显然它有一个故事线索——既纤细又奢华。在线上——哈啰!——这是一个奇特的球;他扑向它。帕勒姆夫人的肖像——你们的力量!他边读边笑。下一页是塌鼻子的财政大臣 帕尔文 和清教徒——令人钦佩地抓住了。接下来是艾什在众议院的演讲——右边是漫画,左边是漫画……啊!诗人!——终于!他弯下腰翻阅这页纸,直到凯蒂咳嗽起来,坐立不安,他认为最好快点继续。但他认为这是战争——公开的、有损尊严的、女性化的战争。下一页是坎特伯雷大主教——以及凯蒂夫人对亚他那修信条的看法!天!多好的一本书啊!接下来,皇室本身,并没有受到太尊重的对待。然后又是阿什——阿什颂扬,阿什解释,阿什阴谋反对,阿什胜利——到处都是舞台的中心,当然,到处都是作者,这个作品的傻瓜所不知道的。政治上的轻率行为也是最令人震惊的,出自一位内阁部长的妻子之手。此外,零散的广播中还提到了当时的丑闻——据他所知,这些内容与十几起诽谤行为有关。除此之外,许多奇妙的能力、闪烁的智慧和浪漫,足以让这本书超越它的第一批个人读者——事实上,足以确保它所有的丑闻都有尽可能广泛的成名机会。
“好!”
他用胳膊肘翻了个身,躺在床上,盯着面前的床单——呆呆的。他该说什么?
他突然想到一个念头。据他所知,有一个空的壁龛。
“帕勒姆勋爵呢?”
基蒂的嘴角绽开了一抹恶作剧的微笑。
“那会来的,”她说——然后检查了一下自己。达雷尔低下头,双手捂着脸,笑了,没人看见。就在那一刻,昏迷不醒的受害者正赶着那天下午将在哈格特车站降落的特快列车,参加什么祭祀仪式?
“出色地!”基蒂不耐烦地说——“你觉得怎么样?你能帮助我吗?”
达雷尔抬起头。
“你知道,凯蒂女士,那本书不能这样出版。没有人愿意冒险。”
“嗯,我想他们会告诉我要删掉什么。”
“是的,”达雷尔慢慢地说,心里有许多倒影——“毫无疑问,一些聪明的家伙会知道可以在多近风的地方航行。但无论如何,你想怎么剪就怎么剪,这本书会引起丑闻的。”
“会吗?”凯蒂的眼睛闪闪发亮。她容光焕发地坐了起来,呼吸急促而挑衅。
“我不明白,”他继续说道,“你怎么能在不咨询阿什的情况下发表它。”
基蒂发出抗议的叫声。
“不,不, 没有!他当然会不同意。但随后——他很快就会原谅一件事,如果他认为这很聪明的话。这很聪明,不是吗?——其中一些。他会笑——然后就没事了。 他会 他从不付钱给他的敌人,但如果别人付钱给他,他就会情不自禁地享受——不是吗?她像个孩子一样恳求。
“‘没必要原谅他们,’”达雷尔低声说道,他翻了个身,用帽子遮住了眼睛——“因为你会‘把他们全部枪杀’。”
在帽子的庇护下,他试图让自己清醒一些。什么 真 她的动机是什么?毫无疑问,部分是出于孩子气的对刺激的热爱——部分是报复?每一页都清楚地表达了对帕勒姆家族的敌意。克利夫的处境也很糟糕——他是拜伦式的浪荡子和流氓的完美结合体。凯蒂小姐可要小心了!据他所知,克利夫还没有被击中过,而且前锋也没有受到惩罚。
如果这些珍贵的纸张出现,艾希的地位肯定会受到动摇。可怜的家伙!——努力追求严肃的存在,却被这样一个顽皮的精灵束缚住了!毕竟是他自己的错。在埃斯特雷夫人的第一个晚上,她的疯狂不就写在她的眼睛里了吗?
“现在告诉我,凯蒂女士”——他清醒过来,目光集中地看着她——“你想让我做什么?”
“给我找一个出版商,并且”——她羞涩地笑着向他弯腰——“给我弄点钱。”
“钱!”
“我最近真是太奢侈了,”基蒂坦白地说。 “确实必须做点什么。而且这本书也值钱,不是吗?”
“很划算,”达雷尔说。然后他又强调道:“我真的不能为此负责,凯蒂女士。”
“当然不是。我永远不会, 决不要 说我告诉过你吧!但是,你看,我不懂文学——我根本不知道如何着手。如果你愿意让我沟通一下吗?
达雷尔沉思着。当然,没有一家知名出版商会看它。但也有很多人愿意——并且为此给了凯蒂夫人一大笔钱。
然而,他——达雷尔——能在这样的交易中扮演什么角色呢?
“我必须警告你,”他最后抬起头说道,“你的丈夫可能会强烈反对这本书,这可能会对他造成伤害。”
凯蒂咬着嘴唇。
“但是如果我告诉任何人是谁写的——而你也告诉任何人呢?”
“艾什立刻就会知道。每个人都会知道。”
“威廉会知道的,”他的同伴不情愿地承认。 “但我不明白为什么其他人应该这样做。你看,我已经把自己放进去了——我说了最令人震惊的话!”
达雷尔回答说,她不会发现那个装置对她有多大帮助。
「不过——我无疑可以为你征求意见。」
基蒂非常高兴,连声感谢他。
“在你走之前,你会得到全部的——周五,不是吗?”她一边说,一边急切地把它捡起来。
达雷尔当然意识到不想让自己承受这种可怕的事情的负担。但他很少能够拒绝一位漂亮而时尚的女人的要求,这让他的自负得到了满足,因为他是唯一一个很可能成为某种重要政治秘密的接受者。并不是说他打算让自己在这件事上受到任何公正的指责。他会把它拿给某个合适的人看——以安抚凯蒂女士——然后给她写一封强烈抗议的信——然后再把手洗掉。到时候会发生什么,就不关他的事了。
与此同时,他的内心充满了激烈的争论,这场争论完全取决于他前一天与艾什的采访。毫无疑问,作为一个老朋友,意识到基蒂女士易激动的性格,他可能觉得有责任直接去找阿什, 不惜代价,并警告他发生了什么事。但是什么鼓励他扮演如此堂吉诃德式的角色呢?他为什么要特别考虑艾什的家庭和平或艾什的公共场所?阿什出于什么考虑 他? “Tu l'as voulu,乔治·丹丁!”
所以他最终承诺攻读硕士学位。和他一起去伦敦,并让凯蒂夫人知道他询问的结果。他们回到家时,基蒂的舞步暴露了她的兴致。
中午时分,房子里流传着一个谣言,说小继承人哈利的情况更糟。午餐时基蒂没有出现,于是请来了医生。在他来之前,只有玛格丽特·弗伦奇才知道基蒂独自从房子里逃了出来,而且没有被发现。阿什和特兰莫尔夫人去看了医生,医生开了处方,但不承认有任何值得惊慌的地方。炎热已经考验了这个孩子,而基蒂女士——他有些困惑地环顾着托儿所寻找她——可能会很放心。
玛格丽特发现了她,她正在公园里闲逛——她非常狂野,脸色苍白——告诉了她医生的结论,然后把她带回家。基蒂几乎什么也没说,很快就被说服为帕勒姆勋爵的到来换了衣服。手术结束时,她像往常一样充满了微笑和喋喋不休,显然没有一丝以前的情绪。
帕勒姆勋爵发现家庭聚会在草坪上举行,凯蒂戴着一顶三角帽子,旁边装饰着一缕白色的公鸡羽毛,在茶几上主持。
“啊!”总理一边走近,一边想——“现在去摘阿什小麦里的稗子吧!”
然而,没有什么比基蒂对他的接待更加亲切,或者比他的回应更加热情洋溢的了。他坐在她旁边,身材魁梧,令人印象深刻,碰巧在场的政治乡间别墅的常客,以及基蒂正在招待的当地神职人员和乡村邻居,都密切关注着他。茶。帕勒姆勋爵虽然已经担任首相第四年,但对他的同胞来说仍然是个谜。而对于核心圈子来说,他在没有妻子的情况下出现是一种娱乐和事件。
有一段时间一切都很顺利。基蒂的举止和话题都无可非议。不久,当她礼貌地询问他的苏格兰之行是否成功时,帕勒姆勋爵希望他没有完全丢脸。但是,谢天谢地,事情已经完成了。与此同时,他猜想,艾什一直在享受学者和绅士的追求?——幸运的家伙!
“他一直在读圣经。”基蒂一边递蛋糕,一边漫不经心地说。 “现在他在使徒行传里。我想这就是为什么他没有听到马车声。约翰!”她叫了一个男仆。 “告诉阿什先生,帕勒姆勋爵已经到了!”
总理睁大了惊讶的眼睛。
“艾什通常会花一个下午的时间来研究圣经吗?”
凯蒂点点头——带着最信任的微笑。 “当他可以的时候。他说,”——她压低了声音,变成了戏剧性的低语——“《圣经》真是一本‘有趣’的书!”
帕勒姆勋爵在座位上站了起来。阿什和他的一些朋友仍然依稀记得,在他们太熟悉和公开使用这个特别顽皮的词时,皮尔和墨尔本一代的耸人听闻的词汇。但在一位女士的嘴里,效果是惊人的。格罗斯维尔勋爵皱起眉头,走开了。埃迪·赫尔斯顿强忍住笑声。院长大吃一惊,中断了与一群考古牧师的谈话,过来看看他能做些什么来让凯蒂夫人保持秩序。特兰莫尔夫人的脸涨得通红,并开始与伊迪丝·曼利夫人匆忙交谈。与此同时,基蒂完全没有意识,“继续切割”——或者更确切地说,分发“面包和黄油”;帕勒姆勋爵改变了话题。
“多么迷人的房子啊!”他漫不经心地说道,并向哈格特宅邸挥了挥手。他目光短浅,实际上只看到它很大。
基蒂惊奇地看着他——一种友好而和蔼可亲的惊奇。她说他很友善,尽量不伤害她的感情,但是,实际上,任何人都可以说出他们对哈格特的看法。她和威廉没有责任。
帕勒姆勋爵相当恼火,戴上眼镜,作为一个固执的人,他仍然坚持认为,从审美的角度来看,他没有理由对哈格特不满意。基蒂什么也没说,但她不断变化的神情中第一次流露出一丝嘲讽的光芒。
总是紧张地注视着的特兰莫尔夫人此时向前走去,而帕勒姆勋爵则以明显而傲慢的温文尔雅把他的谈话转移给了她。
帕勒姆勋爵盘起双腿,开始轻松自在地讲话,他认为,这样一来,他就确信自己是一个好的倾听者,也摆脱了不自在的女主人的束缚。各色茶桌周围的客人有的站着,有的坐着,围着这位伟人围成一圈。还有基蒂,她坐在那里,同样显眼,把一块饼干浸在牛奶里,并用它逗弄她的小狗。与此同时,帕勒姆勋爵向特兰莫尔夫人描述了他南下旅途中发生的示威活动、火车站的人群、地址等等——用了令人厌烦的篇幅。他以一种幽默谦逊的语气处理这个话题,但稍微掩盖了内心的巨大自满。基蒂的嘴唇抽动着。她匆忙地给庞托喂了所有可能的蛋糕。
“当然,没有人能够准确地统计出他在这些场合所说的话,”帕勒姆勋爵带着亲切的微笑继续说道。 “我希望我说的是有道理的——”
“哦,但是为什么呢?”基蒂抬起头说道,她那双小鹿般的大眼睛盯着扬声器。
“为什么?”帕勒姆勋爵重复道,他的身体突然变得僵硬。 “我不跟着你,凯蒂女士。”
“任何人都可以讲道理!”基蒂说着,把一大块松饼扔到了庞托的鼻子上。 “这是另一件困难的事情——不是吗?”
“基蒂女士,”院长举起一根手指说道,“你抄袭了皮特先生的作品。”
“我是吗?”基蒂说。 “我不知道。”
“我想皮特先生有时说得有道理,”帕勒姆勋爵简短地说。
“啊,当时他喝醉了!”基蒂说。 “那么他就没有责任。”
帕勒姆勋爵和周围的人都笑了——尽管总理的笑声有点干涩和敷衍。
“所以你崇拜胡言乱语,基蒂女士?”
凯蒂甜甜地点点头。
“威廉也是如此。啊,他来了!”
阿什出现了,匆匆穿过草坪,帕勒姆勋爵起身迎接他的主人。
“老实说,艾什,你看起来多漂亮啊! 完全 已经放假了!”
“这对你来说是无法形容的,”艾什带着同情的微笑说道。 “好了!——演讲怎么样了?你还剩下什么吗?爱丁堡太棒了!”
当他在客人旁边坐下时,他显得最容光焕发。基蒂看着他,已经意识到对她的客人重新产生了一种令人兴奋的厌恶,认为威廉做得太过分了,而且变得更加不安。
总理重新坐回座位上,手指轻轻并拢。
“哦!我亲爱的朋友,人们非常友善——太友善了!是的——我认为它做得很好——它做得很好。我现在应该休息并心存感激——如果不是主教们的话!”
“主教们!”站在附近的教区牧师说道。 “大人,主教们最近在做什么?”
“快死了,”基蒂说道,她的态度对威廉和帕勒姆勋爵来说都是如此。 “他们是故意的。”
“今天早上还有一个!”艾什举起双手说道。
“哦!他们的死是为了折磨我。”首相说道,语气中透着宇宙的沉重。 “从来没有这样的阴谋!”
“你应该让威廉任命他们,”基蒂说,她把下巴靠在双手上,用眼睛打量帕勒姆勋爵,因为疲劳或其他什么原因在他们周围画出了黑眼圈。
“啊,确实如此!”帕勒姆勋爵和蔼可亲地说。 “我忘记了阿什是我们的神学家。晚饭前带我去散步吧!”他对东道主补充道。
“但你不会接受他的建议,”基蒂微笑着说。
总理突然转身。
“你怎么知道的,凯蒂女士?”
基蒂犹豫了一下——然后带着最美丽、最轻微的笑声说道:
“帕勒姆夫人在教会问题上有如此强烈的观点——不是吗?”
帕勒姆勋爵的感觉是,从来没有人向他提出过比这更阴险无礼的问题。他挺直身子。
“如果有的话,凯蒂女士,我只能说我对他们了解甚少!她非常明智地把它们留给自己。”
“啊!”凯蒂扬起可爱的眉毛说道,“这表明人们所知甚少。”
“我不太明白,”帕勒姆勋爵说。 “你指的是什么,凯蒂女士?”
基蒂笑了。她抬起眼睛看着牧师,一位闲暇的高级牧师,他不自在地退到了特兰莫尔夫人身后。
“有人——上周对我说——帕勒姆夫人拯救了教会!”
首相站了起来。 “晚饭前我必须做点运动。你的花园,艾什——有时间吗?
艾什因不舒服和烦恼而涨红了脸,把他的客人带走了。当他这样做时,他从他的妻子身边经过。凯蒂转过她的小头,半害羞半挑衅地看着他。院长看到了他的表情;还看到艾希故意回避。
一行人很快就开始散去。院长发现自己站在女主人身边——穿过草坪朝房子走去。他用心地观察着她——为她烦恼,为她烦恼!她肯定比他见过的任何时候都要瘦。再多一点,她的美貌就会受到严重损害。他不知从何而来,突然感到一种痛苦的感觉,某种东西被破坏了,某种东西从内部被消耗掉了。
“凯蒂小姐,你休息吗?”他出乎意料地问她。
“休息!”她笑了。 “我为什么要?”
“因为你已经把自己累坏了。”
她耸了耸肩。
“你曾经独自躺下看书吗?”院长坚持说。
“是的。我刚刚读完雷南的 耶稣的生平”
即使对着他,她的目光仍然充满了大胆,但又因为一种渴望而柔和了许多。
“啊!我亲爱的凯蒂女士,别打扰雷南,”院长喊道,然后语气改变了,“但是你说的是真话还是顽皮?”
“说实话,”基蒂说。 “但是——当然——我脾气不好。”
院长笑了。
“我看帕勒姆勋爵不是你的最爱。”
基蒂抿紧了她的小嘴唇。
“没想到威廉竟然要听从那个人的命令!”她低声说道。
“忍受吧——看在威廉的份上,”院长轻声说道,“同时——听听我的建议——不要再读《雷南》了!”
凯蒂好奇地看着他。
“我更喜欢看到事物本来的样子。”
院长叹了口气。
“这是我们谁都做不到的,我亲爱的凯蒂女士。没有人能满足他的 智能化。但宗教却诉说着 将——这是我们和虚空之间唯一的东西。不要乱动它!很快就没有了。”
同伴的脸上掠过一丝讽刺的表情。
“我们结婚一个月前,我的就不见了。威廉杀了它。”
院长感叹道:
“我总是听说他对宗教事务很感兴趣!”
“他什么都不在乎——而且他不相信任何事的一个字!你知道,我是在修道院长大的——但威廉却一笑置之。”
“亲爱的凯蒂女士!”
基蒂点点头。 “当然,现在我知道里面什么也没有了。哦!我 do 请您再说一遍!”她急切地说。 “我从来没想过要对 你。 而且我必须走!”她抬头看着房子二楼的一扇开着的窗户。院长以为是托儿所,便开始询问男孩的情况。但他还没来得及提出问题,她就已经消失了,飞过草地,一只脚似乎几乎没有碰到草地。
“可怜的孩子,可怜的孩子!”院长低声说道,语气中充满了真正的痛苦。但这不是他想到的那个男孩。
然而不久,他就被弗伦奇小姐追上了,他向她询问孩子的情况。
玛格丽特犹豫了。 “他似乎失去了力量,”她悲伤地说。 “医生宣称没有危险,除非——”
“除非什么?”
“哦!但这种可能性太小了!”她仓促地回答道。 “我们别想了。”
当艾什闯入凯蒂时,她正对着房间一侧的大镜子最后看了一眼自己。她斜睨了他一眼,待女仆走后,凯蒂连忙拿起手套和扇子,准备跟着她走。
“基蒂——一句话!”
他将她搂在怀里,低头看着她闪闪发光的裙子和半不情愿的脸。 “基蒂,今晚对那个老家伙好一点!只住两晚。以正确的方式对待他,并永远征服他。在我们散步的过程中,他对我非常得体——尽管你今天下午确实对他说了如此非同寻常的话。我相信他真的想弥补。”
“我真的很讨厌他的白睫毛,”基蒂慢慢地说。
“这有什么关系,”阿什愤怒地叫道,“他是不是一只蓝脸狒狒!——住两个晚上?只要听他说一点,基蒂——这就是他想要的。还有——别生气!——但是管住自己的小舌头——就一点点!”
凯蒂把自己拉开。
“我相信我会做一些可怕的事情,”她平静地说。
艾什那张和蔼可亲的脸几乎完全陌生,但他的表情却呈现出一种严肃的表情。
“请问你为什么要做一些可怕的事情呢?帕勒姆勋爵是您的客人,也是我的政治领袖。在这种情况下,英国有哪个女人不尽力对他客气一点呢?”
“我想不会,”基蒂若有所思地说。 “不,我认为不可能有。”
“猫咪!”
艾什第一次意识到真正的愤怒。这样的脾气和脾气,该怎么办呢?
“你难道不认为你有能力帮助我或毁掉我吗?”他语气激烈地说。
“哦,是的——经常。我的意思是——以我自己的方式帮助你。”
艾什的笑声中带着纯粹的恼怒。
“但是请理解,这将是 无限 如果你能帮助我就更好了 my 方式——以自然的、可接受的方式——每个人都能理解的方式。”
“帕勒姆勋爵推荐的方式?”凯蒂静静地看着他。 “没关系,威廉。我 am 试图帮助你。”
她的眼睛闪烁着最奇怪的光芒。阿什意识到她又突然感到一阵焦虑,这种焦虑在前一年里他时不时地感受到过。他的脸色软了下来。
“亲爱的,别废话了!有时在晚餐时看着我,并对自己说,‘威廉请我——为了他——对帕勒姆勋爵好一点。”
他再次将她拉近,但她几乎用暴力拒绝了他。
“他为什么在这里?为什么我们这些人吃饭?我们应该独自一人——在黑暗中!”
她的脸变成了白色的面具。她的胸部上下起伏,仿佛在与抽泣作斗争。
“基蒂——你这是什么意思?”他沮丧地退缩了。
“哈利!”——她只是在紧闭的嘴唇之间吐出了这个词。
“我的宝贝!”阿什喊道:“今天下午我亲自见到了罗瑟勒姆医生。他给出了最令人满意的叙述,玛格丽特告诉我她已经向你重复了一切。孩子很快就会恢复正常。”
“他是 垂死!”基蒂用同样低沉、遥远的声音说道,她的目光仍然盯着艾什。
“猫咪!不要说这种话——不要想这些!”艾什的脸色变得苍白。 “无论如何”——他责备地转向她——“告诉我 为什么 你认为他们。相信我,凯蒂。来跟我谈谈那个男孩吧。但四分之三的时间里,你表现得好像他没什么问题——你甚至不会去看医生——然后你却说出这样的话!”
她沉默了一会儿。然后,她的头和肩膀做出了一个狂野的动作,就像摆脱了重担一样,她走开了——戴上长手套——走到梳妆台前,在脸颊上抹了一抹胭脂。
“小蒂,你为什么这么说?”艾希哀求地跟在她身后。
“我不知道。至少,我无法解释。现在,我们下去吧?”
艾希长长地吸了一口气。柔弱的儿子牵动着他的心。
“你让这个派对让我感到厌恶!”他充满活力地说。
“那就别相信我——相信医生。”基蒂脸色变了变。 “至于帕勒姆勋爵,我会尽力的,威廉——我会尽力的。”
她从他身边经过——最美丽的幻象——向他伸出一只手去吻——然后就走了。
毫无疑问,在所有外部事务上,帕勒姆勋爵那天晚上都受到了内政大臣和基蒂·阿什夫人的盛情款待。厨师非常出色。酒、鲜花和服务的奢华程度让阿什和特兰莫尔夫人都暗暗感到不舒服。特兰莫尔夫人尤其厌恶“表演”,这既受到贵族本能的影响,也受到道德疑虑的影响。在她看来,哈格特的招待有一点粗俗,这对于金融家和金融家来说可能是可以容忍的。 新财富然而,对于她的威廉和他的妻子来说,他们不需要任何东西来贿赂社会,这是不恰当和有损尊严的。此外,这个冬天还爆发了完全由基蒂的奢侈浪费引发的金融危机。特兰莫尔庄园必须筹集一大笔资金;土地利益集团的日子不太好过,首席代理人的表情也开始变得严肃起来。
要是威廉能够控制他的妻子就好了!但哈格特拥有一座精美的、缓慢聚集的图书馆,这些图书馆使许多英国乡村别墅与众不同。在他的公务工作间隙,即使在假期里,阿什的工作时间也很长,阿什无法从他心爱的书籍陪伴中去帮助基蒂签署支票,或者责骂她的开支。
于是Kitty签了又签;艾什的余额越少,基蒂花的钱似乎就越多。当然,每隔几个月就会出现必须弥补的赤字。至于累积起来的债务,特兰莫尔夫人宁愿不去想它们。这一切都意味着威廉未来的麻烦和翅膀的折断。这一切都融入了伊丽莎白·特兰莫尔对阿什妻子的那种深深而隐秘的怨恨,一半是焦虑的爱,一半是陌生的气质。
然而——再说一遍——帕勒姆勋爵,就肉罐子而言,受到了很好的对待。凯蒂精力充沛,穿着闪闪发光的裙子,她那令人眼花缭乱的脸和脖子,还有她堆积如山的头发,在餐厅的镶板墙上轻松地散开,光彩夺目,可能会吸引现代伦勃朗的目光。画一个英国萨斯基亚。埃迪·赫尔斯顿(Eddie Helston)坐在她左边,目光无法从她身上移开。就连帕勒姆勋爵,尽管他很不喜欢她,但在早期课程中也承认她很英俊,而且以她自己的方式——感谢上帝!这不是任何属于他的女人的方式——好伙伴。
他也看到了,或者说他以为他看到了,她急于让他弥补下午的行为。她克制自己,谈论政治。帕勒姆勋爵在与女性交谈时总是遵守的台词是由与生俱来且根深蒂固的蔑视所决定的台词,他也准备好谈论政治。然后——他突然意识到她正在抽插他,而且动作非常熟练。他知道,阿什希望在会议中尽早就他感兴趣的一项具体措施获得席位。帕勒姆勋爵无意让他享有他想要的优先权。事实上,他的决心完全不同。但他现在很清楚艾什是一个不可忽视的人。到目前为止,他一直在含糊其辞中寻求庇护——这是一种和蔼可亲的含糊不清,晚饭前散步时,艾什被这种含糊其辞所迷惑,毫无疑问是被他自己强烈的愿望误导了。
现在凯蒂女士来了——顺便说一句,接纳她一点也不容易——试图“管理”他,让他拘泥于细节,哄骗他放弃承诺!
帕勒姆勋爵此时用冷漠、微笑的眼睛看着她。
“啊!你对这些东西感兴趣吗,凯蒂女士?好吧——告诉我你的看法。你们女人就有这样的本能——”
——飞蛾就这样一直在火焰周围盘旋。直到,在一刹那间,基蒂醒悟到,虽然她一直在快乐地聆听自己的声音,却没有注意到威廉试图从桌子另一端向她发出的任何信号,而她却在快乐地绊倒。通过一次又一次的轻率行为,背叛了无数关于威廉的意见和威廉的计划,而她最好不要背叛——帕勒姆勋爵什么也没说,什么也没有背叛,什么也没有承诺。一个安静的微笑——一个礼貌的点头——然后嘴唇上立刻出现了一丝嘲讽——它们的含义在一瞬间突然在基蒂的脑海中迸发出来。
她的脸火红了。从此以后,就很难描述那顿晚餐了。谈话结束后,凯蒂引起了一阵骚动。她开始了最狂野的话题,帕勒姆勋爵后来留下了一段伤痕累累的回忆,就像一个人被拖拽或驱赶,像卡利班一样,穿过刹车和灌木丛,被精灵手指捏、戏弄和投掷,没有任何不文明的言语或行为。愤怒的客人可能会指出的公然冒犯。随着每道菜的进行,首相都变得更加僵硬和沉默。他斗志昂扬的脑袋、圆圆的、丑陋的肩膀、蒙着面纱的眼睛和冷漠的嘴巴,每一处线条都写满了忍耐力。当基蒂终于从座位上站起来时,特兰莫尔夫人松了一口气。
晚上的情况也没有好转。帕勒姆勋爵与基蒂、埃迪·赫尔斯顿和格罗斯维尔勋爵一起打牌。在总理看来,格罗斯维尔勋爵,他的搭档,像个白痴一样打球,基蒂夫人和年轻人喋喋不休,争吵不休,因此所有合理的比赛都变得不可能。帕勒姆勋爵失去的东西比他愿意失去的东西还要多,十点半他借口疲劳,拒绝吸烟,然后回到了自己的房间。
艾什完全意识到当晚的失败以及他的客人的不适。但他什么也没说,基蒂也避开了他的邻居。与此同时,他和母亲之间也开始出现了某种默契。他们在角落里轻声谈论明天的演讲和宴会的安排。到目前为止,它们留给基蒂的太多了。阿什答应他的母亲调查他们。他和她联手保护帕勒姆勋爵。
大约一点钟左右,艾什上床睡觉时,基蒂要么正在熟睡,要么假装熟睡。房间里漆黑一片,只有微弱的夜灯亮着,艾什只能看到妻子娇嫩的身影,高高地躺在枕头上,脸颊和额头隐藏在凌乱的头发中。
一扇窗户向夜色敞开着,艾什再次站在窗边陷入“回忆”,就像一年多前在希尔街的那个晚上一样。但是,在以前的情况下,这些想法仍然像悲剧和陌生的客人一样排斥他们,现在却已经失去了陌生感。他们习惯性地、未经事先通知地闯入——频繁、令人恼火、令人遗憾。
事实上,他和基蒂之间的关系是否已经恢复了河上事件的震惊——他不安的夜晚,他痛苦惊慌的早晨,以及他在她回来时听到的故事?它就像某种身体上的打击或伤口,暂时很容易治愈或克服,但随着时间的推移,会揭示出一系列隐藏的后果。
在这种情况下,后果首先与基蒂自己的本性和气质有关。克利夫的声明、她自己的抵抗和戏剧性的立场(在她丈夫和她的情人之间)所带来的兴奋感,从那时起就一直在基蒂的心中发挥作用,就像一剂毒药一样——阿什对此感到沮丧。前一天晚上发生的与照片有关的荒唐事就足以证明这一点。
好吧,他想,事情会及时解决的。与此同时,克利夫被解雇了,这个愚蠢的年轻人埃迪·赫尔斯顿很快就会追随他。到目前为止,阿什以一种有趣的宽容态度看待这件事。如果凯蒂喜欢和美女调情,那是她的事,不是他的事。但他察觉到母亲在将军的指挥下再次变得焦躁起来。 不便 其中;他注意到基蒂最忠实的朋友小迪安的痛苦和不满。
幸运的是,没有什么困难!这个小伙子对他——艾什——几乎就像他对基蒂一样忠诚。他荒唐、做作、虚荣。但他没有任何恶习,一句谏言很可能会让他陷入极度悔恨和自责。阿什打算让他的母亲说出来,当他决定向她寻求帮助时,他第二次感受到了丈夫的强烈屈辱,因为他无法保证自己的家庭和平,而必须依靠别人的帮助。但他自己怎么能去年轻的赫尔斯顿呢?毫无疑问,有些人可以有尊严地处理这样的事件。阿什,具有批判意识,总是拿自己和他人开玩笑;带着属于他内心深处的道德推卸的感觉;最重要的是,他半幽默半苦涩地意识到,无论其他人可能是英雄,他都不是:至少艾什不能也不会做这样的事情。如果他现在开始扮演专制或嫉妒的丈夫,这将使他在自己和其他人眼中变得可笑。
然而基蒂必须以某种方式保护自己免受自己的侵害!……那么——至于政治?有一次,他和母亲谈话时,对她说,他首先是基蒂的丈夫,然后才是公众人物。他现在准备好以同样的简单、同样的全心全意地发表声明了吗?
他不自觉地靠近床边,居高临下地看着凯蒂。小而精致的脸!——在休息时总是带着某种悲伤和焦躁。
他确实一如既往地爱她——啊!是的,他爱她。他的整个本性都渴望她,因为她是他年轻时的妻子,他可怜男孩的母亲。然而,当他想起他向她求婚时的心情,当他让她嫁给他时,他对世界和生活的蔑视时,他感觉自己——几乎是痛苦的——又是一个卑鄙的男人。不!——他是 不能 准备为她失去世界——他现在以征服者的身份进入了这个具有高度影响力和野心的世界。她 必须 她要控制好自己,不要毁了他所有的希望——毕竟那是她的——以及他可能为国家所做的工作。
她对帕勒姆勋爵表现出了多么令人难以置信的任性和任性啊!他该如何应对——他,威廉·阿什,有着讽刺的脾气和简单的标准?除了“爱我,基蒂!——爱你自己!——别犯傻!”他还能对她说什么?如果你能克制住自己的幻想,去玩游戏,生活可能会变得如此有趣!”
至于崇高的东西,“自尊、自知、自控”——责任——以及崇高理想的激情——他有什么资格去喋喋不休呢?也许是小院长!——世俗之人中最有精神的。艾什知道自己既不灵性也不伪善。生活中的某种程度、某种秩序与和谐——欢笑、幽默和感情——以及,为了塑造和焊接一个人的斗争,他发现自己身处其中的那些伟大的政治和社会利益——他不要求更多,有了这些他就已经非常满足了。
他叹了口气,皱起眉头,肌肉不自觉地僵硬。是的,为了他们俩,他必须尝试和基蒂一起扮演主人,尽管这看起来很荒谬。
……他转过身去,想起了他生病的孩子——然后悄无声息地去了育婴室。在那里,沿着黑暗的通道,他发现了一位夜间护士,坐在一盏遮光灯旁边工作。孩子睡着了,报告还不错。艾什屏住呼吸,踮起脚尖偷偷地看着他,然后回到了更衣室。但凯蒂发出微弱的呼唤声追赶着他。他打开门,看到她坐在床上。
“他怎么样?”
她几乎还没醒,但她的表情却让他觉得非常狂野和可怜。他走到她身边,把她抱在怀里。
“安静地睡觉,亲爱的——你也必须如此!”
她靠回枕头上,他的手臂仍然搂着她。
“我一个小时前就在那儿了,”她低声说道。 “我很快就会醒来——”
但此刻她又睡着了,美丽的头靠在他的肩上。他在她身边坐下,扶着她。突然,当他用一种夹杂着激情、温柔和痛苦的目光俯视着她时,一种敏锐的感觉向他袭来。她多么瘦啊——只有羽毛那么重!脸比以前更小了——双手皮包骨!玛格丽特·弗伦奇曾有一两次让他注意这一点,说话时语气焦急。他弯下身子,仔细地观察着妻子。这肯定只是炎热的夏天和持续的神经疲劳的影响?如果他的公务工作允许的话,他会在九月带她出国两周,也许会把她留在意大利北部或瑞士,和玛格丽特·弗伦奇在一起。
伟大的一天已经过去一半,哈格特公园和庭院里的人群达到了最高峰。早上有花展;然后是租户晚宴,阿什发表演讲;现在,帕勒姆勋爵在专门为此搭建的帐篷里向他在县里的支持者发表讲话。在讲台上,他周围坐着辉格党贵族、激进制造商、镇上的幕后操纵者和当地特工,他们是一个伟大政党所依赖的。在他面前展开了一场拥挤的会议,会议的成员几乎相等,来自哈格特北部的煤矿区和南部的农业区……
八月的空气令人窒息。坐在观众席前半部分的农民们,宽阔的眉毛和脸颊上闪烁着汗水。帕勒姆勋爵灰色的脸几乎变成了白色。他刺耳的声音与帐篷里的声学困难相抗衡。拥挤的长椅和总理的短颈大头身上散发着努力和炎热、不适和倦怠的气息。
艾什坐在演讲者的右边,表面上很专注,但内心却为他的党派和他的首领感到羞愧。他本人属于新一代,对他们来说,令父辈满意的公式已经空洞无味。但帕勒姆勋爵对这些公式感到很满足。他是一个具有平均耐人寻味能力的人,他是在一个转变的时刻,通过对妥协和管理的所有卑鄙艺术的完美掌握,以及在旁听席上发挥作用的无价力量而被提升到他所拥有的位置的。 。他所领导的政党鄙视他——而他自满地以为自己就是这个政党。他这次的讲话充满了自己的色彩,事实上,没有其他内容。我像黄蜂一样涌向观众。
阿什心里叹息道:“我们有想法,”他想,“但这些想法对我们来说一点好处都没有——是托利党拥有这些人!你们诸神啊!我们最后都必须这样说话吗?”
突然,在站台的另一边,帕勒姆勋爵身后,他注意到基蒂和埃迪·赫尔斯顿正在交换手势。基蒂拿出一块写字板,在上面写了字,然后靠在坐在她身后的中尉的几个穿白衣的孩子身上,把撕碎的叶子递给赫尔斯顿。但由于有些笨拙,他放弃了。就在这时,站台后面的一扇门打开了,那片叶子被风吹到了,被吹到了基蒂和家庭成员所坐的长凳上,飘落到了一块休息的地方。帕勒姆勋爵站在他的左脚旁边,穿着红色的粗呢呢布。
艾什看到凯蒂开始惊慌失措,她的脸涨得通红,还有她不自觉的动作。但帕勒姆勋爵已经开始了他的结语。乡下人目瞪口呆,绅士们面无表情地坐着,记者们辛苦地追随这位伟人。凯蒂的眼睛始终盯着那张小白纸。阿什也不逊色。在他和帕勒姆勋爵之间,首先是中尉,一个肥胖的男人,双目失明,耳聋极了,然后是一张桌子,后面有一位自由党贵族担任主席。
帕勒姆勋爵已经回到座位上。帐篷里欢呼声震动,微笑的主席站了起来。
“你能请帕勒姆勋爵把地上的那张纸递给我吗?”阿什在中尉耳边说道,“它似乎从我的档案袋里掉了。”
当下一位发言者起身时,中尉在主席身后向后弯腰,试图吸引帕勒姆勋爵的注意。与此同时,埃迪·赫尔斯顿正努力穿过首相身后拥挤的座位。
与此同时,帕勒姆勋爵看到了那张纸,举起它,调整了眼镜。他认为这是来自观众的交流——也许是一个需要他回答的问题。
“帕勒姆大人!”中尉再次喊道,“你愿意——”
“请安静!大声说!”——来自观众,到目前为止,他们还没有听清新演讲者在说什么。
“ is 到底是怎么回事?这里真的过不去!”一位白发苍苍的太后对埃迪·赫尔斯顿生气地说。
帕勒姆勋爵困惑地看着那张纸。里面有这样的话:
“希望你一直在数‘我’。”我把它定为五十七。——K。”
在报纸的一角,有一张他正在演讲的缩略图,他的脖子上戴着一顶大写的花环。
总理的脸变得砖红色,然后又变成灰色。他把纸折起来,放进背心口袋里。
会议结束了。对于普通民众来说,活动结束后将在公园里进行运动,并在大帐篷里享用茶点。对于绅士来说,基蒂夫人举办了一场花园派对,皇室成员也将参加。当客人们从帐篷里涌出来时,帕勒姆勋爵走近了他的女主人。
“我想这是你的,凯蒂女士。”他从口袋里掏出一张折叠好的纸条递给她。
凯蒂看着他。她的肤色很高,眼睛闪闪发光。
“与我无关!”她瞥了一眼,高兴地说。 “不过我会去找失主的。”
“很抱歉给您添麻烦了。”帕勒姆勋爵语气颇有仪式感地说。然后,他转向艾什,说他非常累——事实上,已经精疲力竭了——并且会请求主人离开花园聚会,而自己则去处理一些最重要的信件。阿什主动提出护送他回家。 “相反,照顾好你的客人,”总理干巴巴地说,然后向曾任主席的自由党同僚招手,与他交谈起来,两人很快就从通向露台的窗户消失了。
与此同时,埃迪·赫尔斯顿也加入了基蒂的行列,两人站在一起聊天,红着脸、兴奋不已。阿什追上了他们。
“我可以和你聊一会儿吗,基蒂?”
埃迪·赫尔斯顿看了一眼主人优美的身材和僵硬的举止,明白他的存在在艾什恼怒的表情中起了一定作用,然后羞愧地离开了。
“如果你不介意的话,我想看看那份报纸,基蒂。”
他的皱眉和挺直的嘴唇给基蒂的表情带来了新鲜的野性。
“这是我的财产。”她将一只手放在身后。
“我听说你刚刚否认了这一点。”
基蒂愤怒地笑了。
“是的——这就是帕勒姆勋爵最糟糕的地方——一个人必须为了自己的利益而说这么多谎言。 博约”
“请你一定要把它给我,”艾什平静地说。 “我应该知道我和帕勒姆勋爵在哪里。他显然被某件事严重冒犯了,我必须道歉。”
基蒂呼吸急促。
“好了,别在县里面前吵架了!”她一边说,一边转向一条灌木丛小道,边缘是修剪整齐的紫杉,远离大草坪。她在那里停下来面对他。 “你怎么知道是我写的?”
“我看到你写了然后扔掉了。”
他伸出手。基蒂犹豫了一下,然后慢慢地打开自己的手掌,伸出白色的小手掌,上面放着皱巴巴的纸条。
阿什读了它并把它撕掉了。
“凯蒂,那场比赛简直得不偿失!”
“这完全是无害的话——而且只是针对埃迪说的!除了帕勒姆勋爵之外,任何人都会笑。 然后 我可能会请求他的原谅。”
“这就是你现在应该做的,”阿什说。 “你写的一张小纸条,基蒂——你可以把它写得很完美——”
“当然不是,”基蒂急忙说道,双手反锁在身后。
“你宁愿在热情好客和礼貌方面失败,”他痛苦地说。 “好吧,如果你不觉得这有什么丢脸的话,我恐怕是这样的。帕勒姆勋爵在我们的 客人”
艾什转身准备离开她,这时凯蒂抓住了他的手臂。
“威廉!”
她的脸色变得非常苍白。
“是的。”
“你以前从来没有这样对我说过话,威廉——从来没有!但是——正如我很久以前告诉过你的,如果你愿意的话,你可以立刻停止这一切。”
“我不明白你的意思,基蒂——但我们不能再在这里争论了——”
“不!——但是——你不记得了吗?我告诉过你,你可以随时送我走。那我就不该给你的车轮加辐条。”
“我不否认,”艾什慢慢地说,“明年春天,如果你留在这里,至少在课程的一部分时间里——或者出国,那可能是最明智的。在这种情况下进行政治当然是困难的。当然,我可以前后移动——”
基蒂盯着他脸上的棕色眼睛微微动了动,脸色变得更白了。
“很好。那将是一种分离,不是吗?”
“没有必要用这样的名字来称呼它。哦!猫咪!”艾什喊道,“你为什么不能表现得像个通情达理的女人呢?”
“分手。”她坚定地重复道。 “我知道这就是你妈妈想要的。”
在紫杉的绿色阴影中,一阵声音传到了他们的耳边。皇室的欢呼声开始了。
“来!”基蒂说。
当版税车开过来时,她飞过草地,到达中央帐篷旁的位置。
首相在屋里生闷气。基蒂带着最迷人的微笑向我们道歉。炎热——演讲的疲劳——头痛欲裂,还有医生的命令!——他恳求殿下原谅他。殿下们起初感到惊讶,也许还想生气。但是聚会是如此令人愉快,基蒂夫人是一位如此迷人的女主人,以至于总理的缺席很快就被忘记了,随着白天变冷,变成了一个美妙的夜晚,镇上最昂贵的乐队演奏着融化的音乐,当戴着花环的小船出现在河水邀请着旅客,随着黄昏的到来,烟花开始从一座小山升起。树木在孟加拉的灯光下闪烁着绿色、银色和玫瑰色的光芒,在烟雾缭绕的烟雾中,公园的广阔区域和拥挤的人群,像梦中的乡村和生物一样时隐时现。 ——基蒂夫人的盛宴取得了成功,她的欢乐和美丽声名远扬,空气中弥漫着这种气氛。她穿着绣有野玫瑰的裙子,戴着一顶饰有野玫瑰的帽子,到处闪来闪去——身边总是有埃迪·赫尔斯顿、对她怀有无可救药的依恋的各种牧师,还有一位肥胖的德国大公,他进来了。版税的觉醒。
她的聪明才智、她的资源、她的组织能力都被称赞到了天上,皇室也很仁慈,大公在回家的路上愤恨地问一位副官,为什么他没有被告知有这么一个漂亮的人在等着他。
“我应该事先看看——就像在后面叮叮当当一样,”大公一边说,一边感伤地把自己裹在军斗篷里,凝视着基蒂夫人的棕色眼睛。
与此同时,帕勒姆勋爵和他的秘书仍然待在客厅里。艾什试图获得许可,但没有成功。帕勒姆勋爵以极度疲劳和他的信件为借口。并要求 布拉德肖.
“大人询问今晚有没有火车。”小秘书说道,显然很慌张。
艾希抗议道。事实上,事实证明,没有火车值得乘坐。随后帕勒姆勋爵发来一条消息,表示他希望出席晚宴。
基蒂在穿衣服时锁上了门,而艾什的头脑里混杂着多种情感——愤怒、内疚,以及她在心情愉快时对他的迷恋,不亚于对其他人的迷恋——无法与她交谈。
他们在孩子房间的门口相遇,她出来,他进去。但她从他身边挣脱出来,什么也没说。小男孩的报告很好;他对父亲微笑,艾希在他柔软的双手和嘴唇的触碰中感受到一股清凉的香脂。他下降了——在一个更加哲学的头脑中;无论如何,倾向于“该死的”帕勒姆勋爵。这人一定是个傻子吧!为什么他不能一笑置之,从而扭转局势,对基蒂不利呢?
道歉有什么好处吗?艾什认为他必须在那天晚上找个时间尝试一下。一笔宝贵的尴尬生意!但关系必须以某种方式恢复。
特兰莫尔夫人在下楼的路上追上了他。在下午的新闻报道中,他们几乎没有见过面。
“帕勒姆勋爵究竟出了什么问题,威廉?”她焦急地问他。艾什犹豫了一下,然后在她耳边低声说了一两句话,恳求她今晚让这位伟人继续玩下去。他要收留她,而基蒂则落入教区主教的手中。
“她和神职人员相处得很好,”特兰莫尔夫人不由自主地叹了口气说道。然后,由于两人的幽默感都很强,他们笑了起来。但那笑声却是冰冷而敷衍的。
他们刚走进大厅,凯蒂就跑下楼来,手里拿着一个大包。
“先生。达雷尔!”
“乐意效劳!”达雷尔从一楼一条宽阔走廊的阴影中走出来,说道。
“请拿走它!”基蒂把包裹递到他手里,气喘吁吁地说。 “如果我再看一遍,我 可能 烧了吧!”
“假设你这样做了!”
“不,不!”基蒂一边说着,一边笑着把包裹推开。 “我必须看看会发生什么!”
“这个缺口填补了吗?”
她把手指放在嘴唇上。她的眼睛在跳舞。然后她就快步来到客厅。
无论是否有神职人员在场安慰,基蒂在晚餐时的得意程度肯定不亚于下午。她周围充满了欢乐和快乐,而他自己却又累又无聊地坐在伊迪丝·曼利夫人和特兰莫尔夫人之间,这在帕勒姆勋爵眼中只会让她更加冒犯。到目前为止,他已经把它埋葬在一种完全而壮丽的沉默中。他和女主人在晚餐前的会面是严格遵守所有规则的。基蒂询问过他的头痛情况。帕勒姆勋爵对错过如此精彩的聚会表示遗憾;基蒂向她的粉丝调情,编造了来自皇室成员的信息,正如在场的大多数人都知道的那样,皇室成员已经被逗乐了,无法想象。然后在这之后 首尔在拥挤的客厅里,她被正式处决了,基蒂退到她的主教身边,帕勒姆勋爵带领着特兰莫尔夫人。
“多么可爱的月亮啊!”伊迪丝·曼利夫人对院长说道。 “这甚至让这座房子看起来很浪漫。”
他们正走到客厅窗户外面的露台上,这确实是哈格特外墙唯一具有某种建筑趣味的特征。仿照意大利著名别墅建造的低矮栏杆环绕着它,栏杆周围是大陶罐,现在种满了橘子树。橘子树之间随处可见前特兰莫尔勋爵于 18 世纪末从那不勒斯运来的雕像。谷神星和戴安娜,维斯塔贞女,运动员和安提诺斯,现在在这座丑陋的英国房子的窗户下结成了奇怪的伙伴。尽管它们已经破损、变黑,而且首先仅仅具有装饰性的重要性,但它们仍然给英国的夜晚带来了意大利或希腊的气息,以及可爱和不朽的事物的气息。起居室里的灯光从露台上大开的窗户射出,与大理石人物交相辉映,这些人物时而在光线中清晰地显现出来,时而在昏暗中隐去。有一次,它们清晰地照在一个空荡荡的基座上,院长和他的同伴在基座前停了下来。
院长看着铭文。 “真可惜!这里曾经有一座手持火把的Hebe雕像。五十年前,它被闪电击中了。”
“基蒂女士今晚可能会代表她,”伊迪丝·曼利说。
对于反复无常的基蒂来说,她出现在晚宴上 几乎-希腊服饰,白色,柔软,飘逸,没有任何装饰。院长默许了,但有些悲伤。
“但愿她拥有Hebe的绽放!”我亲爱的伊迪丝女士,我们的女主人看起来 生病”
“她是否?我说不出来——我很佩服她!”他身旁的女人说道,她那双迷人的眼睛里充满了来自摇篮里的仙女的仁慈和乐观。
“呼!“凯蒂喊道,她跳到了他们身后的窗台上。 “他们是 所有 走了!主教希望我成为妇女教区协会的副主席。我已经答应三位牧师开设集市。 啊,亲爱的!她以一种狂野的姿态举起雪白的手臂,然后向靠近她的埃迪·赫尔斯顿招手。
“我们来试试我们的舞蹈吧?”
房子里的年轻人,一群年轻的卫兵和外交官,聚集在一起,笑着鼓掌。基蒂的舞蹈在冬天变得出名,成为她众多奢侈行为之一。她不再念诵;文学让她感到无聊;运动是唯一的诗。所以她受到了一位老师的精心指导。 舞蹈家 热衷于歌剧院的人宣称,在很多方面都比她的指示更好。她现在爱上了吉普赛人教她的狂暴的西班牙舞蹈 小姐 他曾是伦敦赛季的轰动人物之一。它需要一个舞伴,过去几个早上她一直在空荡荡的舞厅里和年轻的赫尔斯顿一起练习。赫尔斯顿的赞誉已传到国外。所有哈格特都希望看到它。
“那里!”凯蒂一边说,一边把她的伙伴指向露台上的一个特定位置。 “我想这样就可以了。我想知道响板在哪里?
“猫咪!”她身后有一个声音说道。艾什从客厅里出来。
“基蒂,拜托了!已近午夜。每个人都累了——你自己也一定累坏了!说声晚安,我们都去睡觉了。”
她转过身来。威廉的声音低沉,但却不容置疑。她把鬓角和脖子上的头发甩到脑后,他的动作让他感到害怕。
“没有人累了,也没有人想睡觉。请让开,威廉。我想要有足够的空间来行走。”
她开始旋转,好像是在尝试这个空间的容量,一边哼着歌。
“赫尔斯顿——请再住一晚,”艾什在年轻人耳边坚决地说。 “凯蒂小姐太累了。”然后对伊迪丝女士和院长——“伊迪丝女士,如果您能说服我的妻子上床睡觉,那就太好了。她永远不知道什么时候完成!”
伊迪丝夫人热情地默许了,然后赶紧走到基蒂身边,试图用温柔、爱抚的话语来说服她。
“我坚持我的权利!”院长跟在她身后说道。 “如果今晚我的女主人已经厌倦了,那么明天就没有女主人来招待我了。”
基蒂静静地看着他们所有人——她的头向前倾,一副好奇的样子。 邪恶 看着微皱的眉毛下闪烁着光芒的眼睛。与此同时,按照她之前的吩咐,一名男仆拿出了两盏银灯,放在了她身后不远的一张小桌子上。无论是出于对深蓝色夜空下、浪漫的露台光影下那身着纤细飘逸长裙的小身材之美的本能感觉,还是出于对重大而隐秘事物的某种占卜,很难说;但那群观众离基蒂稍稍后退了一点,所以她独自站着,一幅画从左边被刚刚带进来的灯照亮。
院长看着她——对她狂野的外表以及她和艾什之间明显的冲突感到不安。然后一个想法闪现在他的脑海里,就像天真的孩子一样,总是充满了诗意和浪漫的意象。
“等一下!”他举起手说道。 “凯蒂小姐,你把我们宠坏了!在逗我们玩了一整天之后,现在你会为我们跳舞一整夜。但你的客人不会让你这么做!我们太爱你了,我们希望你的一部分留到明天。没关系!你为我们提供了一场舞蹈——你给我们带来了一个愿景——和一首诗!——朋友们!”
他转向围在他周围的人,他的白发在灯光下闪闪发光,他那张精致的脸,那么苍老,却那么热切,他慈祥的嘴唇上挂着微笑,还有他迪恩服装的所有细节——围裙和及膝马裤,修长的腿和银扣——在黑暗中显得格外突出……
“朋友们!你看到这个基座了。有一次,众神的侍酒者赫柏就站在那里。然后——忘恩负义的宙斯打了她,她就倒下了!但时辰与美惠们将她安全带离,进入了一片金色的土地,现在又将她带了回来。看她!——Hebe重生了!”
他鞠躬,彬彬有礼的手放在胸前,周围的年轻人顿时爆发出阵阵笑声和掌声,他们的目光从演讲者身上转向了基蒂的精致身材。伊迪丝女士慈祥地微笑着,拍着她柔软的双手。院长的妻子温斯顿夫人的眼里只有院长。在背景中,特兰莫尔夫人注视着凯蒂的每一个表情,格罗斯维尔勋爵走回餐厅,在达雷尔经过时向他咆哮着难以言喻的事情。
凯蒂抬起头来回答。但院长检查了她。他向前迈出一两步,再次向她行了个深深的敬礼。
“亲爱的凯蒂女士!——亲爱的光明与甘露的使者!——休息吧,晚安!你们的客人由我衷心感谢你们。你是他们那个时代的生命,他们欢乐的精神。祝赫比晚安!——为凯蒂女士欢呼三声!”
埃迪·赫尔斯顿带领着他们,他们敲响了老房子的门。凯蒂微笑着吻了吻她的手以示感谢,院长看到她环顾四周——迅速瞥了艾什一眼。他靠着窗框站在阴影中,一动不动,双臂交叉。
然后凯蒂突然向前一跃。
“把那盏灯给我!”她对身后的年轻男仆说道。
转眼间,她就跳上了露台的矮墙和空置的基座。与她说话的那个小伙子失去了理智,听从了她的吩咐。他举起了灯。她弯下腰接过它。艾什此时正站在开着的窗户里,背对着露台,转过身来,看到了,就向前冲了过去。
“基蒂!——把它放下!”
“凯蒂小姐!”院长沮丧地喊道,而他身后的所有人都屏住了呼吸。
“退后!”基蒂说:“不然我就把它扔掉了!”她举起灯,笔直而稳定。艾希顿了顿——痛苦地不知道该怎么办,他的整个灵魂都集中在那条纤细的手臂和那盏明亮的灯上。
“如果你让我演讲,”基蒂说,“我必须回答,不是吗? (退后一步,威廉!——我很好。)赫比谢谢你,拜托——米勒富瓦!她自己并不快乐——而且她担心自己过得不好! 不进口! 一切都完成了——结束了。戏结束了!——灯灭了!”
她把灯举过头顶挥舞。
“猫咪!看在上帝的份上!”艾什喊道,冲向她。
“她疯了!”帕勒姆勋爵站在后面说道。 “我一直都知道!”
其他观众也经历了一瞬间的痛苦。基座上明亮的身影动摇了;有那么一瞬间,那盏灯似乎必须落下来,猛烈地砸在他的头、脖子和下面的白色裙子上。下一刻,它从基蒂手中掉了下来——远离她——又宽又安全——掉进了下面花园的深处。燃烧的油和落在其中的干燥灌木丛中发出一道狂野的光芒。与此同时,基蒂摇摇晃晃,重重地跌倒在威廉·阿什的怀里,失去知觉。
在接下来的一夜里,基蒂几乎恢复了生命和知觉。当她仍然昏迷不醒时,她的儿子去世了。可怜的婴儿完全不知道母亲的处境,黎明时分突然抽搐,把自己脆弱的生命交在了父亲的怀里。
大约十周后,十月底,社会知道内政大臣和基蒂夫人已经启程前往意大利——首先前往威尼斯。据说,凯蒂女士已经彻底崩溃了,她唯一的孩子的突然悲惨死亡令人怀疑她是否还能恢复过来。
第四部分•风暴
“我自己,我自己的大叛徒;
我最空虚的朋友,我最致命的敌人,
无论我走哪条路,我都会遇到阻碍。”
“‘在丁托雷用无数的涂鸦覆盖这座教堂时,令他永远蒙羞的是——’”
“天哪!——这个人是什么意思?——或者他在谈论另一座教堂?”艾什抬起头,困惑地看着面前的宏伟的丁托雷,然后看着他刚刚读到的诗句。
“威廉!”基蒂喊道:“do 放下那个傻瓜,到这里来;一看就很精彩!”
她站在圣乔治马焦雷教堂的一个唱诗班座位上,位置比阿什正在学习他的德语手册的位置高出一些。
“亲爱的,如果这个人不知道,还有谁知道呢!”当他服从她时,艾什大声喊道,在他面前挥舞着他的书。
“‘Dans le royaume des aveugles’,”基蒂轻蔑地说。 “好像任何一个德国人都可以开始理解丁托雷!但是——别说话!”
她双手紧握艾什的手臂,重重地靠在他身上,她的整个灵魂都从她转向照片的眼睛中凝视着,她的嘴唇颤抖着,仿佛由于某种身体虚弱,她只能忍住泪水。果然,脸上带电了。
她和阿什正在看丁托雷的《最后的晚餐》,它挂在威尼斯圣乔治马焦雷合唱团的合唱团里。
这是所有丁托雷爱好者所喜爱的一幅画,每一行和每一组都充满了大师热情而神秘的幻想。
人们会记得,这一幕发生在一家旅馆宽敞的客房里。主和他的门徒聚集在旧约的最后一餐,也是新约的第一餐。左边,一张长桌从观众处一直延伸到画面深处;门徒们排列在它的一侧;另一边坐着犹大,他孤独而被诅咒。年轻的基督复活了;他举起手中的饼,正要把它交给心爱的门徒,而远处的彼得则热切地从座位上站起来,向前迈进,要求在主的身体中得到自己的一份。
基督的行动充满了奉献的狂喜。事实上,弯曲的形式就是爱本身,充满渴望和胜利。这进一步体现在从主的头顶射出的光,照射在长长的面孔上,照亮了彼得的激烈姿态,圣约翰的崇拜和光芒四射的沉默,甚至照射到了圣殿最远的角落。房间里,有一个女人,一个孩子,一只玩耍的狗。与此同时,晚餐派对上方的吊灯发出另一种更尘世的光芒,与烟雾混合在一起,使上层空气变得黑暗。但这就是神圣人物的力量,从这个黑暗中打破了崇拜。烟圈在凝视者的眼睛下变成盘旋的天使,漂浮在救世主的头上,敬畏地俯视着第一件圣体圣事;而灯光,被从主发出的荣耀所渗透,探查每一张脸、每一个褶皱和表面,在背景中展现出男男女女的侍奉形象,照亮家居用品、花瓶和盘子、黑色的餐具。白色的大理石地板,古老的威尼斯天花板的横梁。无处不在的双重光芒,双重魔法!沉浸在这些“威严的光”中,不朽的景象出现在安静的墙上。年复一年,瘦弱、饱受思想折磨的基督举起祝福的双手;门徒们向他努力;天使从黑暗中出来;友好的家庭生活,快乐、自然、无意识,构成了神圣的奥秘。在那些来看望的人中,不时地有男男女女从其中汲取了基蒂现在挂在艾什手臂上凝视着的模糊情感的不安。
因为其中有一种折磨他们的吸引力——就像神秘的号角,在紫色的高地上,由某个正在接近的、看不见的信使所吹响。不可言喻的美,在人类的灵魂中呈现出人类永恒的不和谐:还有什么使艺术的辛酸——诗歌的激情?
“够了!”基蒂终于说道,突然转身走开。
“你喜欢它?”艾什轻声说道,拦住了她,同时将小手按在自己的手臂上。这些天他的心里对妻子充满了极大的怜悯。
“哦,我不知道!”这是基蒂不耐烦的回答。
“它困扰着我。还有另一个值得一看的地方——在一座小教堂里。圣器管理员正在向我们打手势。”
“有没有?”艾希强忍着打了个哈欠。他问提出这些想法的玛格丽特·弗伦奇,基蒂是否游览得不够多。他自己必须去广场,在晚饭前得到消息。作为英国内阁大臣,他曾被接纳为威尼斯居民最好的俱乐部的会员。那里可以看到电报;巴尔干地区传来令人不安的消息。
基蒂只是坚持说,如果没有剩下的丁托雷,她不能也不会去,其他人立刻向她让步,带着一种对生病孩子的任性表现出的宽容温柔。她和玛格丽特跟着圣器管理员。艾什在教堂的一条通道里徘徊,偷偷地读着一份意大利报纸。他对绘画有一种平常的、有教养的乐趣。但基蒂在追求丁托雷——绘画界的瓦格纳——时所投入的热情却让他感到冷淡。他并没有试图跟上她。
两位女士已经和一位绅士一起出现在回廊教堂里。当凯蒂和她的朋友进来时,这些人刚刚检查完祭坛上悬挂的受损但最美丽的“圣母怜子图”,他们的脸朝向入口。
“妈妈!”基蒂惊讶地叫道。
说话的女子一惊,举起金丝眼镜,惊呼一声,快步向前走去。
基蒂和她拥抱在一起,在老太太的一阵大笑和感叹声中,然后基蒂苍白的脸颊变成了猩红色,转向玛格丽特·弗伦奇。
“玛格丽特!——我的母亲,埃斯特雷夫人。”
弗伦奇小姐发现自己受到这位陌生女士热情的欢迎,她看到在她面前的是一位五十岁的女人,保养得非常好。埃斯特雷夫人变得肥胖了。已经占用了这么多时间;但优雅的灰色连衣裙搭配飘逸的雪纺和蕾丝,巧妙地掩盖了这一事实。其余的一切,肤色、眼睛、嘴唇仍然毫无岁月痕迹。如果是艺术实现了这一目标,那么功劳仍然是自然;做得如此精美,让观众只能驻足欣赏。在那顶漂亮的灰色薄纱帽子下,帽子上的绳子以时尚的方式系在丰满的下巴下,从外面看去,确实有一张快乐、快乐、漠不关心的脸,这证明人们可能想到了一段无辜的过去和一颗无亏的良心。
基蒂退后了一点,奇怪地看着妈妈。
“我以为你在巴黎。你的信上说你几周之内都不能动——”
“Ma chère! - 联合国奇迹!然而,在薄薄的白面纱下,埃斯特雷夫人喊道,她的脸红了。 “当我给你写信时,我已濒临死亡——不是吗?”她不等回答就向她的同伴求助。 “然后有人告诉我一位新医生,十天后, 我的声音!他们坚持要我离开——这个亲爱的女人——唐娜·劳拉·韦尔切利——我的女儿基蒂·阿什女士!——她知道这里有一套公寓属于她的一些亲戚。我们在这里——迷人地 已安装!——而且真的 没什么 付钱!”——埃斯特雷夫人微笑着在基蒂耳边低声说道——“与酒店相比,没什么。我非常节省。劳拉照顾每一个苏。啊!我亲爱的威廉!”
因为艾什对里面的声音感到困惑,他走进了教堂,张大了嘴巴站在他的位置。
“哎呀,我们还以为你是个病人呢。”
因为,大约三周前,他在哈格特收到了一封信,信中充满了关于德斯特雷夫人的健康状况和处境的令人忧伤的细节,甚至基蒂也被感动了。钱已经寄出去了;已通过电报进行询问;如果不是在出发前收到了一条更加令人愉快的仓促消息,灰烬号就不会经过布鲁塞尔和科隆,而是会经过巴黎,以便基蒂可以见到她的母亲。他们原本打算在回去的路上在那里停留一下。艾什并不介意基蒂与埃斯特雷夫人见面的次数超出必要范围。但在这种情况下,他会觉得制造困难是非常残酷的。
现在,这位垂死的女士,这位被众神和男人抛弃的女士,在威尼斯尽情狂欢,显然是健康的粉红色,穿着最新鲜的巴黎化妆品!当他冷冷地握手时,艾什内心发誓,德埃斯特雷夫人的信今后应该得到应有的重视。
在她身边的是她在伦敦的时候有点神秘的朋友,沃林顿上校,他在圣詹姆斯广场的聚会上是一个非常熟悉的人物——年纪大了很多,头发几乎白了,而且一如既往的绅士风度。这位女士是谁?艾什被介绍了,他注意到一张有点黑的犹太面孔,注意到了一些精美的珠宝,只能猜测他的岳母挑选了一些珠宝来资助她,并为她提供物质享受以换取埃斯特雷夫人仍然拥有一定的社交才能。他不止一次注意到她在类似装置上的技巧。但事实上,它们是不可或缺的,因为虽然他每年给德斯特雷夫人一千块钱,但她似乎坚决决定至少花三块钱。
他和沃灵顿好奇地互相看了一眼。士兵古铜色的脸和诚实的眼睛没有透露任何信息。 “你最后要娶她吗?”艾什想。 “可怜的家伙!”
与此同时,埃斯特雷夫人喋喋不休,仿佛没有什么比他们的会面更自然,或者比她和女儿女婿之间的关系更完美的了。
当他们沿着教堂漫步时,她敏锐地看着基蒂。
“我亲爱的孩子,你看起来多么病态!——还有你的哀悼!啊,是的,当然!”——她咬着嘴唇——“我记得——那个可怜的、可怜的男孩——”
“谢谢你!”基蒂急忙说道。 “我收到了你的信——非常感谢你。你住在哪里?我们有大运河边的房间。”
“哦,但是,基蒂!”埃斯特雷夫人喊道——“我真为你感到难过!”
“你是吗?”基蒂低声说道。 “那么,请你不要再跟我提起他了!”
埃斯特雷夫人惊讶又生气地看着她的女儿。但她所看到的一切让她放下了戒心。就连她也第一次感受到了母亲般的痛苦。 “你是 可怕地 瘦吧,基蒂!”
凯蒂恼怒地皱起了眉头。
“这不是我的错,”她生气地说。 “我靠奶油过活,但这没什么好处。当然,我知道我是一个物体,一个稻草人;但我宁愿人们不告诉我。”
“胡说些什么, 亲爱的孩子! 你比以前漂亮多了。”
一种狂野而转瞬即逝的光芒掠过她身旁的脸庞。
“我是吗?”基蒂微笑着说道。 “没关系!当然,如果我死了,那也没关系。但-”
“死了!你这是什么意思,基蒂?”埃斯特雷夫人困惑地说。 “当威廉写信给我时,我以为他的意思是你自己太累了。”
“哦,好吧,医生说这是一触即发的,”基蒂漠然地说。 “但是,当然,事实并非如此。我太强硬了。然后他们就对一个人的心大惊小怪。这也是无稽之谈。如果我尝试的话,我就不会死。”
但埃斯特雷夫人沉思起来——明亮、断断续续的颜色、憔悴、空洞的眼睛。到目前为止,效果是增加了基蒂天生的独特性,更确切地说,给她的脸上增添了一丝悲伤,即使在最狂野的欢笑中,也有一些陌生和遥远的东西。但她也反映,再多一点,再多一点,一夜之间,这张脸就会失去它的美丽,就像玫瑰失去花瓣一样。
这群人在教堂外的台阶上站着聊了一会儿。基蒂和她的母亲交换了地址,唐娜·劳拉张开嘴一两次,为了基蒂的利益而露出一些扭曲的微笑,而沃灵顿上校则给圣器保管员小费,找到了船夫,并研究了指南。
当埃斯特雷夫人在他的帮助下走进她的贡多拉时,她拍了拍他的手臂。
“你来吗,马卡姆?”
低沉的声音听起来非常亲密。凯蒂猛地转过身来。
“一个卡萨!”埃斯特雷夫人说,她和她的朋友朝一条穿过扎特尔河的运河走去,而沃灵顿上校则沿着朱代卡河散步。
基蒂和阿什吩咐船夫带他们去广场,不久他们就滑过火焰和银色的水域,圣乔治教堂的白色正面和红色钟楼在夕阳下闪闪发光,倒映在泻湖中。秋天的傍晚清新而愉快。水面上有微风吹过;只有威尼斯知道的灯光闪耀在驶向丽都岛的渔船的黄褐色帆上、英国游艇的白色舷侧、贡多拉锃亮的船头、公爵宫殿温暖的红白色上。从亚得里亚海吹来的空气将大海的力量吹进他们的脸上。远处,在威尼斯市中心的那一排建筑之上,弗留利阿尔卑斯山高耸的幽灵在浩瀚的军团和匆忙的云彩的紫色阴影中闪烁着。
“这对你有好处,亲爱的!”艾什弯下腰看着妻子的脸,她依偎在他身边,坐在贡多拉的柔软垫子上。
凯蒂对他微微一笑,然后皱着眉头说道:
“谁能想到我们会在这里找到妈妈!”
“别把她放在心上!”艾什语气有些尖锐地说。 “我不会有任何事让你担心。”
她把手伸进他的手里。
“那个男人终于要娶她了吗?她称他为“马克姆”。这是新的。”
“看起来很像,”阿什说。 “然后 地狱 还得还债啊!”
他们开始拼凑出他们所知道的沃灵顿上校以及他与埃斯特雷夫人的关系。并不多。但阿什认为,沃林顿原本根本就没有爱过她。当她还是丧偶的黑水夫人时,她和沃林顿的弟弟,一位聪明的炮兵军官之间曾有过一段恋情。在这些事情上,她表现得比一般人更用心、更顾忌,这位年轻军官很崇拜她——确实希望娶她。但他在巴黎被要求为她决斗,结果被杀。在战斗之前,他将黑水夫人托付给他的哥哥(也是一名军人)照顾,他和他之间存在着一种罕见的、热情的忠诚;他的父亲和他的兄弟之间存在着一种罕见的、充满激情的忠诚。自从那个可怜的小伙子去世后,马卡姆·沃林顿就一直是这位女士的朋友和准监护人——经历了她的第二次婚姻,经历了她在伦敦生活的曲折岁月,现在经历了她在欧洲大陆居住的晚年,因与特兰莫尔家族达成协议而强加给她的住处。他一次又一次地把她从破产中拯救出来,或者从一些更糟糕的丑闻中拯救出来,这些丑闻可能会毁掉她仅存的名声。
但自始至终,他都对抚养他长大的姐姐怀有强烈的感激和感情,他和姐姐在苏格兰生活了半年。这位身材魁梧的清教徒女士对埃斯特雷夫人的名字感到厌恶。
“但她死了,”艾什说。 “我记得注意到她的死是在 时 大约三个月前。当然,这可以解释这一点。现在他可以自由结婚了。”
“这样妈妈就会安定下来,从此幸福快乐!”基蒂讽刺地扬起眉毛说道。 “为什么有人要做好人呢?”
她那苦涩的表情让艾什很不舒服。任何孩子都这样谈论母亲是一件悲惨而险恶的事情。但他很清楚其中的原因。
“你小时候很不开心吗,基蒂?”他按下了他握着的手。
“不,”基蒂简短地说。 “我太像妈妈了。我想,说实话,归根结底,我喜欢所有的债务、兴奋和阴暗的人!”
“我们刚认识的时候,你给我的印象可不是这样的!”艾什笑着说道。
“哦,后来我长大了——也有一些缺点。但我和妈妈是一样的,”她固执地说道,“只是我不能撒那么多谎。这就是我们没能走到一起的真正原因。”
她棕色的眼睛里带着一种奇怪的、无声的蔑视,似乎常常超出她的隐藏能力。就像某种被关在笼子里的东西在扑腾,它不知道在渴望什么。然后,当他们看到他脸上那股耐心的好脾气时,他们都融化了。她的小手指捏着他的;而玛格丽特·弗伦奇则将目光锁定在广场的两根柱子上。
“在这里找到她真是太奇怪了!”基蒂低声说道。 “现在,如果是爱丽丝——我的妹妹爱丽丝就好了!”
威廉点点头。他们早就知道,意大利已成为第二个国家的爱丽丝·温斯利代尔夫人定居在特雷维索附近的一栋别墅里,在那里她致力于一所女子花边学校。
一提到她姐姐,基蒂就陷入了一种似乎令人不快的沉思。海风带来的红晕消退了。艾希不安地看着她。
“你做得太多了,基蒂——和往常一样!”
他的声音几乎是愤怒的。
她耸了耸肩。
“有什么关系?你很清楚,如果——”
“如果呢?”
“如果我跟着哈利的话。”话音刚落,她的目光就不敢与他对视。而艾希则转过身来,定定地看着她。
“你确定我不会得到 任何 我的假期很开心吗?”
她不确定地摇摇头。然后,几乎立刻,她就开始用她天生的敏锐和风趣与玛格丽特·弗伦奇谈论泻湖的景色。但她的手藏在黑色斗篷的褶皱下,仍然紧握着威廉的手。
“这是她的病,”他自言自语道,“也是她失去了孩子。”
当他想起自己的小儿子时,他的心中充满了一种痛苦的思念。在心灵深处的职业和兴趣之下,隐藏着这种强烈的悔恨,在任何停顿或沉默的时刻,它的“埋藏的生命”就会出现并抓住他。但他是一位忙碌的政治家,即使在假期的这些日子里,他也全神贯注于当前的问题和问题。基蒂是个娇弱的女人,无法抵御悲伤的折磨。
他想起了孩子死后的最初几天,尽管医生很紧急,但还是无法隐瞒基蒂的消息。它对神经和大脑造成的可怕影响已经受到难以理解的原因的威胁;当康复的日子开始时,她的护士突然飞到孩子的房间,后来飞到他的坟墓。这些回忆中有刺痛的感觉。事实上,他也对妻子最近的状况感到不安。事实上,他不可能像女人或另一种更情绪化的男人那样不断地思考这个问题。或许,此时此刻,他根本就没有 次 即使他的性情使他倾向于内省情感的微妙之处,但事实并非如此。他知道基蒂突然坚决地不再谈论这个男孩,而是带着旧的能量投入到新的追求中,而且,自从她来到威尼斯之后,她表现出了一种狂热的渴望,想要让每一个小时都充满运动和景象——看到。
但事实上,她在身体上还是在灵魂上都好多了?可怜的孩子!医生将她的病解释为神经衰弱,这归因于之前很长一段时间的过度紧张和兴奋。有人怀疑是结核病造成的,但当时还没有进行精确的测试。随着凯蒂在休息和进食后情况有所好转,这个想法就被放弃了。但阿什仍然被它困扰着,尽管她已经准备好——作为一个天生的乐观主义者——只要基蒂本人发出信号,就可以摆脱它以及所有其他无法治愈的焦虑。
至于在哈格特那几个月的道德困境和忧虑,艾什几乎不记得了。事实上,基蒂的病已经从多个方面表现出来,作为一种修正和安抚的事实。就连帕勒姆勋爵也被露台上那可怕场景的直接后果所感动,变得富有同情心和仁慈。第二天早上,他与艾什的告别几乎是亲切的——几乎是亲密的。至于特兰莫尔夫人,每当她能够离开瘫痪的丈夫时,她都会和基蒂在一起,夜以继日地用深情的智慧护理她。而对哈格特党的其他成员来说,对基蒂病情的纯粹怜悯却产生了令人惊讶的力量。格罗斯维尔勋爵实际上让他的妻子为基蒂的康复提供了格罗斯维尔公园——基蒂从这个提议中得到了她的第一个笑声。院长曾多次从遥远的大教堂小镇出发,来看望凯蒂并与她坐在一起。埃迪·赫尔斯顿的花几乎令人讨厌。阿尔科特夫人表现得非常温柔和人性化。
事实上,这种普遍同情对帕勒姆勋爵与其内阁主要成员的关系的影响很小,而且是短暂的。艾什比以往任何时候都更加不喜欢和不信任他。无论总理对某一特定罪行的怨恨发生了什么,毫无疑问,阿什寄予厚望的一次访问以彻底失败告终,帕勒姆准备尽可能地与他强大的追随者作对,而这一阴谋他在内阁中忙于反对以阿什为首的改革党。事实上,阿什感到自己的官方地位虽然表面上如此强大,但其实并不稳固。但政治游戏仍然令人兴奋。
至于基蒂与自己的关系——以及生命中最亲密、最温柔的事物——这些天来,他是否对它们进行了很多探索?可能不会。他是否意识到,归根结底,尽管基蒂犯了错误,尽管他在她生病期间焦急万分,尽管他日常态度充满怜悯和感情,事实上,基蒂所占据的时间更不用说他的思想比她以前占据的还要多?——某种原始的、不可言喻的魔力已经不再在他的思想中描绘她的形象了?
再说一遍——可能不是。因为一个人内心深处的这些缓慢变化就像夏季潮汐在河口沙上的潮起潮落一样。寂静无声,主力悄然进出;当我们做梦的时候,大盆地满了,渔船进来了——或者温和无情的海水退回到海洋的怀抱中,海鸟在宽阔的、无人居住的平地上奔跑。
当灯光点亮时,他们降落在广场上。十月的柔和夜幕正在迅速降临,鸽子已经开始在圣马可教堂和公爵宫的窗台上栖息。广场上一群热闹的人群来来往往,乐队正在演奏。圣马可大教堂的金马上闪烁着苍白而神秘的光芒,这是西方天空最后的反射。柱廊下的珠宝店和玻璃店闪闪发光,温暖的海风吹动了巨大的旗杆上的意大利国旗,而旗杆上不久前还悬挂着奥地利鹰。
阿什仰着头走着,在威尼斯的中心心不在焉地想着英国政治,以及他最近在旅途中读到的一本回忆录中看到的梅特涅的一句话:
“法庭上的今天,我的价值很高,除了伦德曼的面纱。”这就是你的精神。”
这句话让他特别高兴。
他也在与明天搏斗,尽管是在与梅特涅不同的意义上。他的脑子里充满了各种计划。他对自己的能力和机遇充满了自豪感。
“哎呀,你已经过了俱乐部了,威廉!”基蒂说。
艾什猛地惊醒,对她微笑,然后一挥手就消失在右边的楼梯里。
玛格丽特·弗伦奇在一家珠饰店里徘徊,买了一些东西。凯蒂独自走回家,而玛格丽特一直对她充满警惕,她知道她更喜欢这样,于是就让她走自己的路。
灰烬酒店的房间位于大运河的第一个拐弯处,朝南。要从广场通过陆路到达他们,基蒂必须穿过一系列狭窄的街道,或者 街道, 被打破 领域,或小广场,其中矗立着教堂。当她经过其中一座教堂时,她被同性恋音乐和入口处的人群所吸引。推开门上的皮帘,她发现自己身处一座洛可可风格的大中殿,里面灯火通明,装饰华丽。一排排巨大的蜡烛固定在地板上的临时支架上。柱子上覆盖着玫瑰色的锦缎,唱诗班里鲜花盛开,如果可能的话,甚至比教堂的其他部分更明亮。
基蒂所受的天主教训练告诉她,圣体圣事的宣讲正在进行中。她机械地把手指浸入圣水中,向祭坛跪下,然后在后排的一排跪下。
那是多么丰富、闪闪发光——灯光、鲜艳的色彩、舞动的音乐! “亲爱的萨克拉门托!圣萨克拉门托!”这些意大利赞美诗或连祷文的歌词一次又一次地出现,无穷无尽地重复。基蒂感性、易激动的天性被喜悦所搅动。然后,突然,她想起了她的孩子,以及她最后一次在棺材里看到的小脸。她开始轻轻哭泣,把脸埋在黑色面纱里。一种难以忍受的渴望占据了她。 “我再也不会有孩子了,”她想。 “电子邮件和短信 遍。”
然后她的思绪又回到了哈格特的聚会,回到了露台上的场景,回到了控制她的那种兴奋,她几乎不知道是怎么发生的,也不知道为什么。她仍然能听到院长的声音——看到灯在她头顶上摇曳。 “是什么让我着迷了!我根本不在乎灯是否会点燃我——无论我是生还是死。我想死。”
是因为下午和威廉的那次简短的谈话吗?——因为他平静地接受了“分离”这个词,而她只是像个孩子吹嘘和威胁一样向他扔这个词,从来没想到会是这样。言出必行?在哈梅尔威尔的那晚之后,她就曾向他提出过这个建议。她当时是认真的,那是一种悔恨的冲动,而他却嘲笑她。但在哈格特,这是一时的冲动,他认真对待它。整个下午,当她和皇室成员喋喋不休时,伤口一直在疼痛!当她跳上基座,看到他惊恐的脸时,她让他表现出典型的女性胜利。 感觉——会让他有更多的感受。
在她生病的时候,他对她是多么善良、多么温柔啊!然而——还没有?
“他关心政治,关心他的计划,而不是我。他再也不会像以前那样相信我了。他永远不会要求我帮助他——他会想方设法不这么做——尽管他一直对我很友善。”
一想到她在未来对他来说是无效的,她在他的生活中微不足道,就折磨着她。
她为何如此对待帕勒姆勋爵? “只要我愿意,我就可以成为一名女士,”她自嘲地说道。 “我什至都不是一位女士。”
突然,她的记忆中闪现出一张帕勒姆勋爵的小照片,他戴着眼镜,困惑地站着,凝视着她的纸条。她低下头,双手撑地,大笑起来,一种压抑、歇斯底里的笑声,让跪在她身边的女人感到震惊。
但笑声很快又在不安的疼痛中戛然而止。在她刚刚经历的精神和身体痛苦的那几个星期里,威廉的感情是她唯一的避难所。
“但这只是因为他对我感到非常抱歉。一切都完全不同了。我再也不能让他再像以前那样爱我了……这不是我的错。这是我与生俱来的东西——它扼住了我的喉咙。”
而且她还真切地感受到了被附体力量勒死的感觉。
“亲爱的萨克拉门托!圣萨克拉门托!“……音乐在教堂里回荡、回荡。凯蒂睁开眼睛,在光芒中突然感到一阵兴奋。这让她想起了圣乔治画中弯曲的基督。尽管音乐很糟糕,教堂也很俗气,但敬畏和美丽还是涌向了她。如果她尝试宗教怎么办?——回想一下她在修道院里所受的教育?——把自己交给了一位导演?
她颤抖着退缩了。她如何才能坚持反对威廉——威廉,他知道的事情比她多得多?
然后,记忆的不可避免的诱惑就偷进了她内心的空虚。杰弗里在哪里?她深知他是一个暴力而自私的男人;但他对她的理解是威廉永远无法理解的。她怀着一种病态的渴望回忆起在哈梅尔威尔那个疯狂的夜晚之前他们之间的感情戏。多么永恒的兴奋啊——没有时间思考——或者后悔!
在她生病的几个星期里,她完全记不清他的活动了。夏天他还在为派他出去的报纸写稿吗?难道没有传言说他受伤了——或者发烧了?她的记忆依然模糊而微弱,与无法夺回的记忆痛苦地挣扎着。
那天早上的意大利报纸——她在早餐时自己拼出来的——报道了起义部队的失败,以及他们撤退到波斯尼亚高地的消息。战斗将会暂停。他会回家吗?一直以来,他自己只是一个旁观者和记者,还是在战斗?当她想到他带领受压迫的农民对抗土耳其人时,她的脉搏就跳动起来。
但她什么都不知道。毫无疑问,在过去的几个月里,他故意隐瞒了自己的所作所为和行踪。他唯一到达英国的迹象就是那本诗集——还有那些可恨的诗句!她的嘴唇颤抖着。她就像一个弱小的孩子,无法承受任何敌意和不友善的想法。
如果他已经回家了呢?也许他会经过威尼斯来!无论如何,他已经离我们不远了。就在她和玛格丽特第一次访问丽都的前一天。当基蒂站在亚得里亚海的海浪前时,她梦见了在更远的海岸之外的某个地方,是杰弗里度过冬天的波斯尼亚山脉。
然后她开始思考自己的想法,厌恶自己地起身,拉下面纱,朝门口走去。
当她到达门口挂着的皮革窗帘时,前面一位正在经过的女士把窗帘拉到一边,以便基蒂可以跟上。基蒂走到街上,抬起头机械地说“谢谢”。
但话到了嘴边却戛然而止。她发出一声压抑的叫声,面前的女人也跟着附和。
两人都一动不动地站着,互相凝视着。
凯蒂首先恢复了平静。
“我们的相遇不是我的错,”她说,有点气喘吁吁。 “别这样——这么不友善地看着我。我知道你不想见我。为什么——为什么我们要说话?我要走了。”她转身做了一个告别的手势。
艾丽丝·温斯利戴尔将一只手放在基蒂的手臂上。
“不!停留片刻。你是黑色的。你看起来病了。”
基蒂转向她。他们本能地继续前进,进入了一条狭窄街道的庇护所。
“我的儿子死了——两个月前,”她自豪地冷漠地说。
爱丽丝女士开始了。
“我没听说过。我很为你难过。请问他今年多大?”
“三岁。”
“可怜的宝贝!”言语非常低沉、温柔。 “我的儿子——十四岁。但你还有其他孩子吗?”
“不——我不想要它们。他们也可能会死。”
爱丽丝女士停了下来。她仍然挽着她同父异母的妹妹的手臂,高高在上。她和基蒂一样瘦,但更高,体格也更壮。除了基蒂哀悼时的精致优雅之外,爱丽丝的黑色面纱和裙子也有一种严肃、传统的气氛。它们几乎是宗教人士的服装。
“你好吗?”她轻轻地说。 “我经常想起你。你的婚姻幸福吗?”
基蒂笑了。
“我们真是一群幸福的人,不是吗?我们非常理解这一点。噢,别为我烦恼。你知道你说过你不能和我有任何关系。你住在威尼斯吗?”
“我从特雷维索过来一两天,是为了见一个朋友——”
“你最好别留下来。”基蒂急忙说道。 “妈妈来了。至少,如果你不想碰到她的话。”
爱丽丝女士松开了手。
“我明天早上就回家。”
他们默默地向前走了几步,然后爱丽丝停了下来。基蒂精致的脸庞和浓密的头发在黑暗中形成了一个苍白的发光点。 卡莱。爱丽丝一脸感动地看着她。
“我想对你说句话。”
“是?”
“如果你遇到麻烦了——如果你需要我,就派人来找我。地址特雷维索,它总会找到我。”
基蒂没有回答。他们到达了一座横跨运河的桥,她停了下来,靠在栏杆上。
“我说的话你听到了吗?”她的同伴问道。
“是的。我会记住的。我想你认为这是你的职责。你自己做什么?
“我有两个孤儿,我抚养长大。还有我的花边学校。它没什么进展;但它占据了我。”
“你是天主教徒吗?”
“是的。”
“但愿我是!”基蒂说。她静静地悬在大理石栏杆上,看着刚刚在运河东边的宫殿上空凝视的新月。 “你知道,我丈夫从事政界。他是内政大臣。”
“是的,我听说了。你帮他吗?”
“不——只是另一件事。”
凯蒂举起一块小石子,让它掉进水里。
“我不知道你这是什么意思,”爱丽丝·温斯利代尔冷冷地说。 “如果你不帮助他,你就会后悔——后悔的时候已经太晚了。”
“哦,我知道!”基蒂说。然后她不安地动了动。 “我得进去了。晚安。”她伸出了手。
爱丽丝女士接过它。
“晚安。还有记住!”
“我不想要任何人,”基蒂说。 “另外!她挥了挥手,艾丽丝·温斯利代尔朝广场方向走去,看见她消失在高高的、密密麻麻的房屋之间,像一个绊倒的小影子。
基蒂在这次谈话后非常兴奋,当她到达圣毛里齐奥坎波时,她本应突然向左转,但她在坎波上来回徘徊了一会儿,看着特拉盖托河上的吊船,它位于它和学院之间,在圣毛里齐奥教堂,月亮升起,北面小街上一些商店橱窗里闪烁着明亮的灯光。海风依然温暖,狂风大作,大运河里的波浪拍打着宫殿的大理石脚。
最后,她穿过狭窄的通道,经过隐蔽的历史建筑,来到大运河边的宫殿后面,他们的房间就在里面。小庭院的一扇门向她的戒指打开。她发现自己身处黑暗的一楼——空无一人,除了 费尔泽 或者是贡多拉的黑色顶部——其更远的门通向运河。一位兴高采烈的意大利仆人带来了灯,大理石楼梯上有她的女仆在等着她。几分钟后,她就坐在明亮的柴火旁的沙发上,布兰奇围着她转来转去,小心翼翼地照顾着她。
“Have you seen your letters, my lady?” and Blanche handed her a pile. Upon a parcel lying uppermost Kitty pounced at once with avidity. She tore it open—pausing once, with scarlet cheeks, to look round her at the door, as though she were afraid of being seen.
A book—fresh and new—emerged. Politics and the Country Houses; so ran the title on the back. Kitty looked at it frowning. “He might have found a better name!” Then she opened it—looked at a page here and a page there—laughed, shivered—and at last bethought her to read the note from the publisher which accompanied it.
“‘Much pleasure—the first printed copy—three more to follow—sure to make a sensation’—hateful wretch!—’if your ladyship will let us know how many presentation copies—’ Goodness!—not 一种! Oh—well!—Madeleine, perhaps—and, of course, Mr. Darrell.”
She opened a little despatch-box in which she kept her letters, and slipped the book in.
“I won’t show it to William to-night—not—not till next week.” The book was to be out on the 20th, a week ahead—three months from the day when she had given the MS. into Darrell’s hands. She had been spared all the trouble of correcting proofs, which had been done for her by the publisher’s reader, on the plea of her illness. She had received and destroyed various letters from him—almost without reading them—during a short absence of William’s in the north.
Suddenly a start of terror ran through her. “No, no!” she said, wrestling with herself—”he’ll scold me, perhaps—at first; of course I know he’ll do that. And then, I’ll make him laugh! He can’t—he can’t help laughing. I 知道 it’ll amuse him. He’ll see how I meant it, too. And nobody need ever find out.”
She heard his step outside, hastily locked her despatch-box, threw a shawl over it, and lay back languidly on her pillows, awaiting him.
The following morning, early, a note was brought to Kitty from Madame d’Estrées:
“Darling Kitty,—Will you join us to-night in an expedition? You know that Princess Margherita is staying on the Grand Canal?—in one of the Mocenigo palaces. There is to be a serenata in her honor to-night—not one of those vulgar affairs which the hotels get up, but really good music and fine voices—money to be given to some hospital or other. Do come with us. I suppose you have your own gondola, as we have. The gondolas who wish to follow meet at the Piazzetta, weather permitting, eight o’clock. I know, of course, that you are not going out. But this is 仅由 music!—and for a charity. One just sits in one’s gondola, and follows the music up the canal. Send word by bearer. Your fond mother,
“Marguerite d’Estrées.”
Kitty tossed the note over to Ashe. “Aren’t you dining out somewhere to-night?”
Her voice was listless. And as Ashe lifted his head from the cabinet papers which had just reached him by special messenger, his attention was disagreeably recalled from high matters of state to the very evident delicacy of his wife. He replied that he had promised to dine with Prince S—— at Danieli’s, in order to talk Italian politics. “But I can throw it over in a moment, if you want me. I came to Venice for 您, darling,” he said, as he rose and joined her on the balcony which commanded a fine stretch of the canal.
“No, no! Go and dine with your prince. I’ll go with maman—Margaret and I. At least, Margaret must, of course, please herself!”
She shrugged her shoulders, and then added, “Maman’s probably in the pink of society here. Venice doesn’t take its cue from people like Aunt Lina!”
Ashe smiled uncomfortably. He was in truth by this time infinitely better acquainted with the incidents of Madame d’Estrées’s past career than Kitty was. He had no mind whatever that Kitty should become less ignorant, but his knowledge sometimes made conversation difficult.
Kitty was perfectly aware of his embarrassment.
“You never tell me—” she said, abruptly. “Did she really do such dreadful things?”
“My dear Kitty!—why talk about it?”
Kitty flushed, then threw a flower into the water below with a defiant gesture.
“What does it matter? It’s all so long ago. I have nothing to do with what I did ten years ago—nothing!”
“A convenient doctrine!” laughed Ashe. “But it cuts both ways. You get neither the good of your good nor the bad of your bad.”
“I have no good,” said Kitty, bitterly.
“What’s the matter with you, miladi?” said Ashe, half scolding, half tender. “You growl over my remarks as though you were your own small dog with a bone. Come here and let me tell you the news.”
And drawing the sofa up to the open window which commanded the marvellous waterway outside, with its rows of palaces on either hand, he made her lie down while he read her extracts from his letters.
Margaret French, who was writing at the farther side of the room, glanced at them furtively from time to time. She saw that Ashe was trying to charm away the languor of his companion by that talk of his, shrewd, humorous, vehement, well informed, which made him so welcome to the men of his own class and mode of life. And when he talked to a woman as he was accustomed to talk to men, that woman felt it a compliment. Under the stimulus of it, Kitty woke up, laughed, argued, teased, with something of her natural animation.
Presently, indeed, the voices had sunk so much and the heads had drawn so close together that Margaret French slipped away, under the impression that they were discussing matters to which she was not meant to listen.
She had hardly closed the door when Kitty drew herself away from Ashe, and holding his arm with both hands looked strangely into his eyes.
“You’re awfully good to me, William. But, you know—you don’t tell me secrets!”
“What do you mean, darling?”
“You don’t tell me the real secrets—what Lord Palmerston used to tell to Lady Palmerston!”
“How do you know what he used to tell her?” said Ashe, with a laugh. But his forehead had reddened.
“One hears—and one guesses—from the letters that have been published. Oh, I understand quite well! You can’t trust me!”
Ashe turned aside and began to gather up his papers.
“Of course,” said Kitty, a little hoarsely, “I know it’s my own fault, because you used to tell me much more. I suppose it was the way I behaved to Lord Parham?”
She looked at him rather tremulously. It was the first time since her illness began that she had referred to the incidents at Haggart.
“Look here!” said Ashe, in a tone of decision; “I shall 真 give up talking politics to you if it only reminds you of disagreeable things.”
她没有注意到。
“Is Lord Parham behaving well to you—now—William?”
Ashe colored hotly. As a matter of fact, in his own opinion, Lord Parham was behaving vilely. A measure of first-rate importance for which he was responsible was already in danger of being practically shelved, simply, as it seemed to him, from a lack of elementary trustworthiness in Lord Parham. But as to this he had naturally kept his own counsel with Kitty.
“He is not the most agreeable of customers,” he said, gayly. “But I shall get through. Pegging away does it.”
“And then to see how our papers flatter him!” cried Kitty. “How little people know, who think they know! It would be amusing to show the world the real Lord Parham.”
She looked at her husband with an expression that struck him disagreeably. He threw away his cigarette, and his face changed.
“What we have to do, my dear Kitty, is simply to hold our tongues.”
Kitty sat up in some excitement.
“That man never hears the truth!”
Ashe shrugged his shoulders. It seemed to him incredible that she should pursue this particular topic, after the incidents at Haggart.
“That’s not the purpose for which Prime Ministers exist. Anyway, we can’t tell it him.”
Undaunted, however, by his tone, and with what seemed to him extraordinary excitability of manner, Kitty reminded him of an incident in the life of a bygone administration, when the near relative of an English statesman, staying at the time in the statesman’s house, had sent a communication to one of the quarterlies attacking his policy and belittling his character, by means of information obtained in the intimacy of a country-house party.
“One of the most treacherous things ever done!” said Ashe, indignantly. “Fair fight, if you like! But if that kind of thing were to spread, I for one should throw up politics to-morrow.”
“Every one said it did a vast deal of good,” persisted Kitty.
“A precious sort of good! Yes—I believe Parham in particular profited by it—more shame to him! If anybody ever tried to help me in that sort of way—anybody, that is, for whom I felt the smallest responsibility—I know what I should do.”
“What?” Kitty fell back on her cushions, but her eye still held him.
“Send in my resignation by the next post—and damn the fellow that did it! Look here, Kitty!” He came to stand over her—a fine formidable figure, his hands in his pockets. “Don’t you ever try that kind of thing—there’s a darling.”
“Would you damn me?”
She smiled at him—with a tremor of the lip.
He caught up her hand and kissed it. “Blow out my own brains, more like,” he said, laughing. Then he turned away. “What on earth have we got into this beastly conversation for? Let’s get out of it. The Parhams are there—male and female—aren’t they?—and we’ve got to put up with them. Well, I’m going to the Piazza. Any commissions? Oh, by-the-way”—he looked back at a letter in his hands—”mother says Polly Lyster will probably be here before we go—she seems to be touring around with her father.”
“Charming prospect!” said Kitty. “Does mother expect me to chaperon her?”
Ashe laughed and went. As soon as he was gone, Kitty sprang from the sofa, and walked up and down the room in a passionate preoccupation. A tremor of great fear was invading her; an agony of unavailing regret.
“What can I do?” she said to herself, as her upper lip twisted and tortured the lower one.
Presently she caught up her purse, went to her room, where she put on her walking things without summoning Blanche, and stealing down the stairs, so as to be unheard by Margaret, she made her way to the back gate of the Palazzo, and so to the streets leading to the Piazza. William had taken the gondola to the Piazzetta, so she felt herself safe.
She entered the telegraphic office at the western end of the Piazza, and sent a telegram to England that nearly emptied her purse of francs. When she came out she was as pale as she had been flushed before—a little, terror-stricken figure, passing in a miserable abstraction through the intricate backways which took her home.
“It won’t be published for ten days. There’s time. It’s only a question of money,” she said to herself, feverishly—”only a question of money!”
All the rest of the day, Kitty was at once so restless and so languid that to amuse her was difficult. Ashe was quite grateful to his amazing mother-in-law for the plan of the evening.
As night fell, Kitty started at every sound in the old Palazzo. Once or twice she went half-way to the door—eagerly—with hand out-stretched—as though she expected a letter.
“No other English post to-night, Kitty!” said Ashe, at last, raising his head from the finely printed Poetæ Minores he had just purchased at Ongania’s. “You don’t mean to say you’re not thankful!”
The evening arrived—clear and mild, but moonless. Ashe went off to dine with his prince, in the ordinary gondola of commerce, hired at the Traghetto; while Margaret and Kitty followed a little later in one which had already drawn the attention of Venice, owing to the two handsome gondoliers, habited in black from head to foot, who were attached to it. They turned towards the Piazzetta, where they were to meet with Madame d’Estrées’ party.
Kitty, in her deep mourning, sank listlessly into the black cushions of the gondola. Yet almost as they started, as the first strokes carried them past the famous palace which is now the Prefecture, the spell of Venice began to work.
City of rest!—as it seems to our modern senses—how is it possible that so busy, so pitiless, and covetous a life as history shows us should have gone to the making and the fashioning of Venice! The easy passage of the gondola through the soft, imprisoned wave; the silence of wheel and hoof, of all that hurries and clatters; the tide that comes and goes, noiseless, indispensable, bringing in the freshness of the sea, carrying away the defilements of the land; the narrow winding ways, now firm earth, now shifting sea, that bind the city into one social whole, where the industrial and the noble alike are housed in palaces, equal often in beauty as in decay; the marvellous quiet of the nights, save when the northeast wind, Hadria’s stormy leader, drives the furious waves against the palace fronts in the darkness, with the clamor of an attacking host; the languor of the hot afternoons, when life is a dream of light and green water, when the play of mirage drowns the foundations of the 力敌 in the lagoon, so that trees and buildings rise out of the sea as though some strong Amphion-music were but that moment calling them from the deep; and when day departs, that magic of the swiftly falling dusk, and that white foam and flower of St. Mark’s upon the purple intensity of the sky!—through each phase of the hours and the seasons, 其余 is still the message of Venice, rest enriched with endless images, impressions, sensations, that cost no trouble and breed no pain.
It was this spell of rest that descended for a while on Kitty as they glided downward to the Piazzetta. The terror of the day relaxed. Her telegram would be in time; or, if not, she would throw herself into William’s arms, and he 必须forgive her!—because she was so foolish and weak, so tired and sad. She slipped her hand into Margaret’s; they talked in low voices of the child, and Kitty was all appealing melancholy and charm.
At the Piazzetta there was already a crowd of gondolas, and at their head the 巴萨, which carried the musicians.
“You are late, Kitty!” cried Madame d’Estrées, waving to them. “Shall we draw out and come to you?—or will you just join on where you are?”
For the Vercelli gondola was already wedged into a serried line of boats in the wake of the 巴萨.
“Never mind us,” said Kitty. “We’ll tack on somehow.”
And inwardly she was delighted to be thus separated from her mother and the chattering crowd by which Madame d’Estrées seemed to be surrounded. Kitty and Margaret bade their men fall in, and they presently found themselves on the Salute side of the floating audience, their prow pointing to the canal.
巴萨 began to move, and the mass of gondolas followed. Round them, and behind them, other boats were passing and repassing, each with its slim black body, its swanlike motion, its poised oarsman, and its twinkling light. The lagoon towards the Guidecca was alive with these lights; and a magnificent white steamer adorned with flags and lanterns—the yacht, indeed, of a German prince—shone in the mid-channel.
On they floated. Here were the hotels, with other illuminated boats in front of their steps, whence spoiled voices shouted, “Santa Lucia,” till even Venice and the Grand Canal became a vulgarity and a weariness. These were the “serenate publiche,” common and commercial affairs, which the private serenata left behind in contempt, steering past their flaring lights for the dark waters of romance which lay beyond.
Suddenly Kitty’s sadness gave way; her starved senses clamored; she woke to poetry and pleasure. All round her, stretching almost across the canal, the noiseless flock of gondolas—dark, leaning figures impelling them from behind, and in front the high prows and glow-worm lights; in the boats, a multitude of dim, shrouded figures, with not a face visible; and in their midst the 巴萨, temple of light and music, built up of flowers, and fluttering scarves, and many-colored lanterns, a sparkling fantasy of color, rose and gold and green, shining on the bosom of the night. To either side, the long, dark lines of thrice-historic palaces; scarcely a poor light here and there at their water-gates; and now and then the lamps of the Traghetti…. Otherwise, darkness, soundless motion, and, overhead, dim stars.
“Margaret! Look!”
Kitty caught her companion’s arm in a mad delight.
Some one for the amusement of the guests of Venice was experimenting on the top of the campanile of St. Mark’s with those electric lights which were then the toys of science, and are now the eyes and tools of war. A search-light was playing on the basin of St. Mark’s and on the mouth of the canal. Suddenly it caught the Church of the Salute—and the whole vast building, from the Queen of Heaven on its topmost dome down to the water’s brim, the figures of saints and prophets and apostles which crowd its steps and ledges, the white whorls, like huge sea-shells, that make its buttresses, the curves and volutes of its cornices and doorways, rushed upon the eye in a white and blinding splendor, making the very darkness out of which the vision sprang alive and rich. Not a Christian church, surely, but a palace of Poseidon! The bewildered gazer saw naiads and bearded sea-gods in place of angels and saints, and must needs imagine the champing of Poseidon’s horses at the marble steps, straining towards the sea.
The vision wavered, faded, reappeared, and finally died upon the night. Then the wild beams began to play on the canal, following the serenata, lighting up now the palaces on either hand, now some single gondola, revealing every figure and gesture of the laughing English or Americans who filled it, in a hard white flash.
“Oh! listen, Kitty!” said Margaret. “Some one is going to sing ‘Ché faro.'”
Miss French was very musical, and she turned in a trance of pleasure towards the 巴萨 whence came the first bars of the accompaniment.
She did not see meanwhile that Kitty had made a hurried movement, and was now leaning over the side of the gondola, peering with arrested breath into the scattered group of boats on their left hand. The search-light flashed here and there among them. A gondola at the very edge of the serenata contained one figure beside the gondolier, a man in a large cloak and slouch hat, sitting very still with folded arms. As Kitty looked, hearing the beating of her heart, their own boat was suddenly lit up. The light passed in a second, and while it lasted those in the flash could see nothing outside it. When it withdrew all was in darkness. The black mass of boats floated on, soundless again, save for an occasional plash of water or the hoarse cry of a gondolier—and in the distance the wail for Eurydice.
Kitty fell back in her seat. An excitement, from which she shrank in a kind of terror, possessed her. Her thoughts were wholly absorbed by the gondola and the figure she could no longer distinguish—for which, whenever a group of lamps threw their reflections on the water, she searched the canal in vain. If what she madly dreamed were true, had she herself been seen—and recognized?
The serenata in honor of Italy’s beautiful princess duly made its way to the Grand Canal. The princess came to her balcony, while the “Jewel Song” in “Faust” was being sung below, and there was a demonstration which echoed from palace to palace and died away under the arch of the Rialto. Then the gondolas dispersed. That of Lady Kitty Ashe had some difficulty in making its way home against a force of wind and tide coming from the lagoon.
Kitty was apparently asleep when Ashe returned. He had sat late with his hosts—men prominent in the Risorgimento and in the politics of the new kingdom—discussing the latest intricacies of the Roman situation and the prospects of Italian finance. His mind was all alert and vigorous, ranging over great questions and delighting in its own strength. To come in contact with these able foreigners, not as the mere traveller but as an important member of an English government, beginning to be spoken of by the world as one of the two or three men of the future—this was a new experience and a most agreeable one. Doors hitherto closed had opened before him; information no casual Englishman could have commanded had been freely poured out for him; last, but not least, he had at length made himself talk French with some fluency, and he looked back on his performance of the evening with a boy’s complacency.
For the rest, Venice was a mere trial of his patience! As his gondola brought him home, struggling with wind and wave, Ashe had no eye whatever for the beauty of this Venice in storm. His mind was in England, in London, wrestling with a hundred difficulties and possibilities. The old literary and speculative habit was fast disappearing in the stress of action and success. His well-worn Plato or Horace still lay beside his bedside; but when he woke early, and lit a candle carefully shaded from Kitty, it was not to the poets and philosophers that he turned; it was to a heap of official documents and reports, to the letters of political friends, or an unfinished letter of his own, the phrases of which had perhaps been running through his dreams. The measures for which he was wrestling against the intrigues of Lord Parham and Lord Parham’s clique filled all his mind with a lively ardor of battle. They were the children—the darlings—of his thoughts.
Nevertheless, as he entered his wife’s dim-lit room the eager arguments and considerations that were running through his head died away. He stood beside her, overwhelmed by a rush of feeling, alive through all his being to the appeal of her frail sweetness, the helplessness of her sleep, the dumb significance of the thin, blue-veined hand—eloquent at once of character and of physical weakness—which lay beside her. Her face was hidden, but the beautiful hair with its childish curls and ripples drew him to her—touched all the springs of tenderness.
It was a loveliness so full, it seemed, of meaning and of promise. Hand, brow, mouth—they were the signs of no mere empty and insipid beauty. There was not a movement, not a feature, that did not speak of intelligence and mind.
And yet, were he to wake her now and talk to her of the experience of his evening, how little joy would either get out of it.
Was it because she had no intellectual disinterestedness? Well, what woman had! But other women, even if they saw everything in terms of personality, had the power of pursuing an aim, steadily, persistently, for the sake of a person. He thought of Lady Palmerston—of Princess Lieven fighting Guizot’s battles—and sighed.
By Jove! the women could do most things, if they chose. He recalled Kitty’s triumph in the great party gathered to welcome Lord Parham, contrasting it with her wilful and absurd behavior to the man himself. There was something bewildering in such power—combined with such folly. In a sense, it was perfectly true that she had insulted her husband’s chief, and jeopardized her husband’s policy, because she could not put up with Lord Parham’s white eyelashes.
Well, let him make his account with it! How to love her, tend her, make her happy—and yet carry on himself the life of high office—there was the problem! Meanwhile he recognized, fully and humorously, that she had married a political sceptic—and that it was hard for her to know what to do with the enthusiast who had taken his place.
Poor, pretty, incalculable darling! He would coax her to stay abroad part of the Parliamentary season—and then, perhaps, lure her into the country, with the rebuilding and refurnishing of Haggart. She must be managed and kept from harm—and afterwards indulged and spoiled and 宴请 to her heart’s content.
If only the fates would give them another child!—a child brilliant and lovely like herself, then surely this melancholy which overshadowed her would disperse. That look—that tragic look—she had given him on the day of the 盛宴, when she spoke of “separation”! The wild adventure with the lamp had been her revenge—her despair. He shuddered as he thought of it.
He fell asleep, still pondering restlessly over her future and his own. Amid all his anxieties he never stooped to recollect the man who had endangered her name and peace. His optimism, his pride, the sanguine perfunctoriness of much of his character were all shown in the omission.
Kitty, however, was not asleep while Ashe was beside her. And she slept but little through the hours that followed. Between three and four she was finally roused by the sounds of storm in the canal. It was as though a fleet of gigantic steamers—in days when Venice knew but the gondola—were passing outside, sending a mountainous “wash” against the walls of the old palace in which they lodged. In this languid autumnal Venice the sudden noise and crash were startling. Kitty sprang softly out of bed, flung on a dressing-gown and fur cloak, and slipped through the open window to the balcony.
A strange sight! Beneath, livid waves, lashing the marble walls; above, a pale moonlight, obscured by scudding clouds. Not a sign of life on the water or in the dark palaces opposite. Venice looked precisely as she might have looked on some wild sixteenth-century night in the years of her glorious decay, when her palaces were still building and her state tottering. Opposite, at the Traghetto of the Accademia, there were lamps, and a few lights in the gondolas; and through the storm-noises one could hear the tossed boats grinding on their posts.
The riot of the air was not cold; there was still a recollection of summer in the gusts that beat on Kitty’s fair hair and wrestled with her cloak. As she clung to the balcony she pictured to herself the tumbling waves on the Lido; the piled storm-clouds parting like a curtain above a dead Venice; and behind, the gleaming eternal Alps, sending their challenge to the sea—the forces that make the land, to the forces that engulf it.
Her wild fancy went out to meet the tumult of blast and wave. She felt herself, as it were, anchored a moment at sea, in the midst of a war of elements, physical and moral.
Yes, yes!—it was Geoffrey. Once, under the skipping light, she had seen the face distinctly. Paler than of old—gaunt, unhappy, absent. It was the face of one who had suffered—in body and mind. But—she trembled through all her slight frame!—the old harsh power was there unchanged.
Had he seen and recognized her—slipping away afterwards into the mouth of a side canal, or dropping behind in the darkness? Was he ashamed to face her—or angered by the reminder of her existence? No doubt it seemed to him now a monstrous absurdity that he should ever have said he loved her! He despised her—thought her a base and coward soul. Very likely he would make it up with Mary Lyster now, accept her nursing and her money.
Her lip curled in scorn. No, 这 she didn’t believe! Well, then, what would be his future? His name had been but little in the newspapers during the preceding year; the big public seemed to have forgotten him. A cloud had hung for months over the struggle of races and of faiths now passing in the Balkans. Obscure fighting in obscure mountains; massacre here, revolt there; and for some months now hardly an accredited voice from Turk or Christian to tell the world what was going on.
But Geoffrey had now emerged—and at a moment when Europe was beginning perforce to take notice of what she had so far wilfully ignored. À lui la parole! No doubt he was preparing it, the bloody, exciting story which would bring him before the foot-lights again, and make him once more the lion of a day. More social flatteries, more doubtful love-affairs! Fools like herself would feel his spell, would cherish and caress him, only to be stung and scathed as she had been. The bitter lines of his “portrait” rung in her ears—blackening and discrowning her in her own eyes.
She abhorred him!—but the thought that he was in Venice burned deep into senses and imagination. Should she tell William she had seen him? No, no! She would stand by herself, protect herself!
So she stole back to bed, and lay there wakeful, starting guiltily at William’s every movement. If he knew what had happened!—what she was thinking of! Why on earth should he? It would be monstrous to harass him on his holiday—with all these political affairs on his mind.
Then suddenly—by an association of ideas—she sat up shivering, her hands pressed to her breast. The telegram—the book! Oh, but 当然 she had been in time!—当然! Why, she had offered the man two hundred pounds! She lay down laughing at herself—forcing herself to try and sleep.
Sir Richard Lyster unfolded his 时 混蛋
“A beastly rheumatic hole I call this,” he said, looking angrily at the window of his hotel sitting-room, which showed drops from a light shower then passing across the lagoon. “And the dilatoriness of these Italian posts is, upon my soul, beyond bearing! This 时 is 三 days old.”
Mary Lyster looked up from the letter she was writing.
“Why don’t you read the French papers, papa? I saw a 费加罗报“ of yesterday in the Piazza this morning.”
“Because I can’t!” was the indignant reply. “There wasn’t the same amount of money squandered on my education, my dear, that there has been on yours.”
Mary smiled a little, unseen. Her father had been, of course, at Eton. She had been educated by a succession of small and hunted governesses, mostly Swiss, whose remuneration had certainly counted among the frugalities rather than the extravagances of the family budget.
Sir Richard read his 时 for a while. Mary continued to write checks for the board wages of the servants left at home, and to give directions for the beating of carpets and cleaning of curtains. It was dull work, and she detested it.
Presently Sir Richard rose, with a stretch. He was a tall old man, with a shock of white hair and very black eyes. A victim to certain obscure forms of gout, he was in character neither stupid nor inhuman, but he suffered from the usual drawbacks of his class—too much money and too few ideas. He came abroad every year, reluctantly. He did not choose to be left behind by county neighbors whose wives talked nonsense about Botticelli. And Mary would have it. But Sir Richard’s tours were generally one prolonged course of battle between himself and all foreign institutions; and if it was Mary who drove him forth, it was Mary also who generally hurried him home.
“Who was it you saw last night in that ridiculous singing affair?” he asked, as he put the fire together.
“Kitty Ashe—and her mother,” said Mary—after a moment—still writing.
“Her mother!—what, that disreputable woman?”
“They weren’t in the same gondola.”
“Ashe will be a great fool if he lets his wife see much of that woman! By all accounts Lady Kitty is quite enough of a handful already. By-the-way, have you found out where they are?”
“On the Grand Canal. Shall we call this afternoon?”
“I don’t mind. Of course, I think Ashe is doing an immense amount of harm.”
“Well, you can tell him so,” said Mary.
Sir Richard frowned. His daughter’s manners seemed to him at times abrupt.
“Why do you see so little now of Elizabeth Tranmore?” he asked her, with a sharp look. “You used to be always there. And I don’t believe you even write to her much now.”
“Does she see much of anybody?”
“Because, you mean, of Tranmore’s condition? What good can she be to him now? He knows nobody.”
“She doesn’t seem to ask the question,” said Mary, dryly.
A queer, soft look came over Sir Richard’s old face.
“No, the women don’t,” he said, half to himself, and fell into a little reverie. He emerged from it with the remark—accompanied by a smile, a little sly but not unkind:
“I always used to hope, Polly, that you and Ashe would have made it up!”
“I’m sure I don’t know why,” said Mary, fastening up her envelopes. As she did so it crossed her father’s mind that she was still very good-looking. Her dress of dark-blue cloth, the plain fashion of her brown hair, her oval face and well-marked features, her plump and pretty hands, were all pleasant to look upon. She had rather a hard way with her, though, at times. The servants were always giving warning. And, personally, he was much fonder of his younger daughter, whom Mary considered foolish and improvident. But he was well aware that Mary made his life easy.
“Well, you were always on excellent terms,” he said, in answer to her last remark. “I remember his saying to me once that you were very good company. The Bishop, too, used to notice how he liked to talk to you.”
When Mary and her father were together, “the Bishop” was Sir Richard’s property. He only fell to Mary’s share in the old man’s absence.
Mary colored slightly.
“Oh yes, we got on,” she said, counting her letters the while with a quick hand.
“Well, I hope that young woman whom he 做了 marry is now behaving herself. It was that fellow Cliffe with whom the scandal was last year, wasn’t it?”
“There was a good deal of talk,” said Mary.
“A rum fellow, that Cliffe! A man at the club told me last week it is believed he has been fighting for these Bosnian rebels for months. Shocking bad form I call it. If the Turks catch him, they’ll string him up. And quite right, too. What’s he got to do with other people’s quarrels?”
“If the Turks will be such brutes—”
“Nonsense, my dear! Don’t you believe any of this radical stuff. The Turks are awfully fine fellows—fight like bull-dogs. And as for the ‘atrocities,’ they make them up in London. Oh, of course, what Cliffe wants is notoriety—we all know that. Well, I’m going out to see if I can find another English paper. Beastly climate!”
But as Sir Richard turned again to the window, he was met by a burst of sunshine, which hit him gayly in the face like a child’s impertinence. He grumbled something unintelligible as Mary put him into his Inverness cape, took hat and stick, and departed.
Mary sat still beside the writing-table, her hands crossed on her lap, her eyes absently bent upon them.
She was thinking of the serenata. She had followed it with an acquaintance from the hotel, and she had seen not only Kitty and Madame d’Estrées, but also—the solitary man in the heavy cloak. She knew quite well that Cliffe was in Venice; though, true to her secretive temper, she had not mentioned the fact to her father.
Of course he was in Venice on Kitty’s account. It would be too absurd to suppose that he was here by mere coincidence. Mary believed that nothing but the intervention of Cliffe’s mighty kinsman from the north had saved the situation the year before. Kitty would certainly have betrayed her husband but for the 不可抗力 arrayed against her. And now the magnate who had played Providence slumbered in the family vault. He had passed away in the spring, full of years and honors, leaving Cliffe some money. The path was clear. As for the escapade in the Balkans, Geoffrey was, of course, tired of it. A sensational book, hurried out to meet the public appetite for horrors—and the pursuance of his intrigue with Lady Kitty Ashe—Mary was calmly certain that these were now his objects. He was, no doubt, writing his book and meeting Kitty where he could. Ashe would soon have to go home. And then! As if that girl Margaret French could stop it!
Well, William had only got his deserts! But as her thoughts passed from Kitty or Cliffe to William Ashe, their quality changed. Hatred and bitterness, scorn or wounded vanity, passed into something gentler. She fell into recollections of Ashe as he had appeared on that bygone afternoon in May when he came back triumphant from his election, with the world before him. If he had never seen Kitty Bristol!—
“I should have made him a good wife,” she said to herself. “I should have known how to be proud of him.”
And there emerged also the tragic consciousness that if the fates had given him to her she might have been another woman—taught by happiness, by love, by motherhood.
It was that little, heartless creature who had snatched them both from her—William and Geoffrey Cliffe—the higher and the lower—the man who might have ennobled her—and the man, half charlatan, half genius, whom she might have served and raised, by her fortune and her abilities. Her life might have been so full, so interesting! And it was Kitty that had made it flat, and cold, and futureless.
Poor William! Had he really liked her, in those boy-and-girl days? She dreamed over their old cousinly relations—over the presents he had sometimes given her.
Then a thought, like a burning arrow, pierced her. Her hands locked, straining one against the other. If this intrigue were indeed renewed—if Geoffrey succeeded in tempting Kitty from her husband—why then—then—
She shivered before the images that were passing through her mind, and, rising, she put away her letters and rang for the waiter, to order dinner.
“Where shall we go?” said Kitty, languidly, putting down the French novel she was reading.
“Mr. Ashe suggested San Lazzaro.” Margaret looked up from her writing as Kitty moved towards her. “The rain seems to have all cleared off.”
“Well, I’m sure it doesn’t matter where,” said Kitty, and was turning away; but Margaret caught her hand and caressed it.
“Naughty Kitty! why this sea air can’t put some more color into your cheeks I don’t understand.”
“我是 不能 pale!” cried Kitty, pouting. “Margaret, you do croak about me so! If you say any more I’ll go and rouge till you’ll be ashamed to go out with me—there! Where’s William?”
William opened the door as she spoke, the Gazetta di Venezia in one hand and a telegram in the other.
“Something for you, darling,” he said, holding it out to Kitty. “Shall I open it?”
“Oh no!” said Kitty, hastily. “Give it me. It’s from my Paris woman.”
“Ah—ha!” laughed Ashe. “Some extravagance you want to keep to yourself, I’ll be bound. I’ve a good mind to see!”
And he teasingly held it up above her head. But she gave a little jump, caught it, and ran off with it to her room.
“Much regret impossible stop publication. Fifty copies distributed already. Writing.”
She dropped speechless on the edge of her bed, the crumpled telegram in her hand. The minutes passed.
“When will you be ready?” said Ashe, tapping at the door.
“Is the gondola there?”
“Waiting at the steps.”
“Five minutes!” Ashe departed. She rose, tore the telegram into little bits, and began with deliberation to put on her mantle and hat.
“You’ve got to go through with it,” she said to the white face in the glass, and she straightened her small shoulders defiantly.
They were bound for the Armenian convent. It was a misty day, with shafts of light on the lagoon. The storm had passed, but the water was still rough, and the clouds seemed to be withdrawing their forces only to marshal them again with the darkness. A day of sudden bursts of watery light, of bands of purple distance struck into enchanting beauty by the red or orange of a sail, of a wild salt breath in air that seemed to be still suffused with spray. The Alps were hidden; but what sun there was played faintly on the Euganean hills.
“I say, Margaret, at last she does us some credit!” said Ashe, pointing to his wife.
Margaret started. Was it rouge?—or was it the strong air? Kitty’s languor had entirely disappeared; she was more cheerful and more talkative than she had been at any time since their arrival. She chattered about the current scandals of Venice—the mysterious contessa who lived in the palace opposite their own, and only went out, in deep mourning, at night, because she had been the love of a Russian grand-duke, and the grand-duke was dead; of the Carlist pretender and his wife, who had been very popular in Venice until they took it into their heads to require royal honors, and Venice, taking time to think, had lazily decided the game was not worth the candle—so now the sulky pair went about alone in a fine gondola, turning glassy eyes on their former acquaintance; of the needy marchese who had sold a Titian to the Louvre, and had then found himself boycotted by all his kinsfolk in Venice who were not needy and had no Titians to sell—all these tales Kitty reeled out at length till the handsome gondoliers marvelled at the little lady’s vivacity and the queer brightness of her eyes.
“Gracious, Kitty, where do you get all these stories from?” cried Ashe, when the chatter paused for a moment.
He looked at her with delight, rejoicing in her gayety, the slight touches of white which to-day for the first time relieved the sombreness of her dress, the return of her color. And Margaret wondered again how much of it was rouge.
At the Armenian convent a handsome young monk took charge of them. As George Sand and Lamennais had done before them, they looked at the printing-press, the garden, the cloister, the church; they marvelled lazily at the cleanliness and brightness of the place; and finally they climbed to the library and museum, and the room close by where Byron played at grammar-making. In this room Ashe fell suddenly into a political talk with the young monk, who was an ardent and patriotic son of the most unfortunate of nations, and they passed out and down the stairs, followed by Margaret French, not noticing that Kitty had lingered behind.
Kitty stood idly by the window of Byron’s room, thinking restlessly of verses that were not Byron’s, though there was in them, clothed in forms of the new age, the spirit of Byronic passion, and more than a touch of Byronic affectation—thinking also of the morning’s telegram. Supposing Darrell’s prophecy, which had seemed to her so absurd, came true, that the book did William harm, not good—that he ceased to love her—that he cast her off?…
… A plash of water outside, and a voice giving directions. From the lagoon towards Malamocco a gondola approached. A gentleman and lady were seated in it. The lady—a very handsome Italian, with a loud laugh and brilliant eyes—carried a scarlet parasol. Kitty gave a stifled cry as she drew back. She fled out of the room and overtook the other two.
“May we go back into the garden a little?” she said, hurriedly, to the monk who was talking to William. “I should like to see the view towards Venice.”
William held up a watch, to show that there was but just time to get back to the Piazza, for lunch. Kitty persisted, and the monk, understanding what the impetuous young lady wished, good-naturedly turned to obey her.
“We must be 非常 quick!” said Kitty. “Take us please, to the edge, beyond the trees.”
And she herself hurried through the garden to its farther side, where it was bounded by the lagoon.
The others followed her, rather puzzled by her caprice.
“Not much to be seen, darling!” said Ashe, as they reached the water—”and I think this good man wants to get rid of us!”
And, indeed, the monk was looking backward across the intervening trees at a party which had just entered the garden.
“Ah, they have found another brother!” he said, politely, and he began to point out to Kitty the various landmarks visible, the arsenal, the two asylums, San Pietro di Castello.
The new-comers just glanced at the garden apparently, as the Ashes had done on arrival, and promptly followed their guide back into the convent.
Kitty asked a few more questions, then led the way in a hasty return to the garden door, the entrance-hall, and the steps where their gondola was waiting. Nothing was to be seen of the second party. They had passed on into the cloisters.
Animation, oddity, inconsequence, all these things Margaret observed in Kitty during luncheon in a restaurant of the Merceria, and various incidents connected with it; animation above all. The Ashes fell in with acquaintance—a fashionable and harassed mother, on the fringe of the Archangels, accompanied by two daughters, one pretty and one plain, and sore pressed by their demands, real or supposed. The parents were not rich, but the girls had to be dressed, taken abroad, produced at country-houses, at Ascot, and the opera, like all other girls. The eldest girl, a considerable beauty, was an accomplished egotist at nineteen, and regarded her mother as a rather inefficient 圣母院. Kitty understood this young lady perfectly, and after luncheon, over her cigarette, her little, sharp, probing questions gave the beauty twenty minutes’ annoyance. Then appeared a young man, ill-dressed, red-haired, and shy. Carelessly as he greeted the mother and daughters, his entrance, however, transformed them. The mother forgot fatigue; the beauty ceased to yawn; the younger girl, who had been making surreptitious notes of Kitty’s costume in the last leaf of her guide-book, developed a charming gush. He was the owner of the Magellan estates and the historic Magellan Castle; a professed hater of “absurd womankind,” and, in general, a hunted and self-conscious person. Kitty gave him one finger, looked him up and down, asked him whether he was yet engaged, and when he laughed an embarrassed “No,” told him that he would certainly die in the arms of the Magellan housekeeper.
This got a smile out of him. He sat down beside her, and the two laughed and talked with a freedom which presently drew the attention of the neighboring tables, and made Ashe uncomfortable. He rose, paid the bill, and succeeded in carrying the whole party off to the Piazza, in search of coffee. But here again Kitty’s extravagances, the provocation of her light loveliness, as she sat toying with a fresh cigarette and “chaffing” Lord Magellan, drew a disagreeable amount of notice from the Italians passing by.
“Mother, let’s go!” said the angry beauty, imperiously, in her mother’s ear. “I don’t like to be seen with Lady Kitty! She’s impossible!”
And with cold farewells the three ladies departed. Then Kitty sprang up and threw away her cigarette.
“How those girls bully their mother!” she said, with scorn. “However, it serves her right. I’m sure she bullied hers. Well, now we must go and do something. Ta-ta!”
Lord Magellan, to whom she offered another casual finger, wanted to know why he was dismissed. If they were going sight-seeing, might he not come with them?”
“Oh no!” said Kitty, calmly. “Sight—seeing with people you don’t really know is too trying to the temper. Even with one’s best friend it’s risky.”
“Where are you? May I call?” said the young man.
“We’re always out,” was Kitty’s careless reply. “But—”
She considered—
“Would you like to see the Palazzo Vercelli?”
“That magnificent place on the Grand Canal? Very much.”
“Meet me there to-morrow afternoon,” said Kitty. “Four o’clock.”
“Delighted!” said Lord Magellan, making a note on his shirt-cuff. “And who lives there?”
“My mother,” said Kitty, abruptly, and walked away.
Ashe followed her in discomfort. This young man was the son of a certain Lady Magellan, an intimate friend of Lady Tranmore’s—one of the noblest women of her generation, pure, high-minded, spiritual, to whom neither an ugly word nor thought was possible. It annoyed him that either he or Kitty should be introducing 这里 son to Madame d’Estrées.
It was really tiresome of Kitty! Rich young men with characters yet indeterminate were not to be lightly brought in contact with Madame d’Estrées. Kitty could not be ignorant of it—poor child! It had been one of her reckless strokes, and Ashe was conscious of a sharp annoyance.
However, he said nothing. He followed his companions from church to church, till pictures became an abomination to him. Then he pleaded letters, and went to the club.
“Will you call on maman to-morrow?” said Kitty, as he turned away, looking at him a little askance.
She knew that he had disapproved of her invitation to Lord Magellan. Why had she given it? She didn’t know. There seemed to be a kind of revived mischief and fever in the blood, driving her to these foolish and ill-considered things.
Ashe met her question with a shake of the head and the remark, in a decided tone, that he should be too busy.
Privately he thought it a piece of impertinence that Madame d’Estrées should expect either Kitty or himself to appear in her drawing-room at all. That this implied a complete transformation of his earlier attitude he was well aware; he accepted it with a curious philosophy. When he and Kitty first met he had never troubled his head about such things. If a woman amused or interested him in society, so long as his taste was satisfied she might have as much or as little character as she pleased. It stirred his mocking sense of English hypocrisy that the point should be even raised. But now—how can any individual, he asked himself, with political work to do, affect to despise the opinions and prejudices of society? A politician with great reforms to put through will make no friction round him that he can avoid—unless he is a fool. It weighed sorely, therefore, on his present mind that Madame d’Estrées was in Venice—that she was a person of blemished repute—that he must be and was ashamed of her. It would have been altogether out of consonance with his character to put any obstacle in the way of Kitty’s seeing her mother. But he chafed as he had never yet chafed under the humiliation of his relationship to the notorious Margaret Fitzgerald of the forties, who had been old Blackwater’s 亲爱的 before she married him, and, as Lady Blackwater, had sacrificed her innocent and defenceless step-daughter to one of her own lovers, in order to secure for him the step-daughter’s fortune—black and dastardly deed!
Was it all part of the general growth and concentration that any shrewd observer might have read in William Ashe?—the pressure—enormous, unseen—of the traditional English ideals, English standards, asserting itself at last in a brilliant and paradoxical nature? It had been so—conspicuously—in the case of one of his political predecessors. Lord Melbourne had begun his career as a person of idle habits and imprudent adventures, much given to coarse conversation, and unable to say the simplest thing without an oath. He ended it as the man of scrupulous dignity, tact, and delicacy, who moulded the innocent youth of a girl-queen, to his own lasting honor and England’s gratitude. In ways less striking, the same influence of vast responsibilities was perhaps acting upon William Ashe. It had already made him a sterner, tougher, and—no doubt—a greater man.
The defection of William only left Kitty, it seemed, still more greedy of things to see and do. Innumerable sacristans opened all possible doors and unveiled all possible pictures. Bellini succeeded Tintoret, and Carpaccio Bellini. The two sable gondoliers wore themselves out in Kitty’s service, and Margaret’s kind, round face grew more and more puzzled and distressed. And whence this strange impression that the whole experience was a 飞行 on Kitty’s part?—or, rather, that throughout it she was always eagerly expecting, or eagerly escaping from some unknown, unseen pursuer? A glance behind her—a start—a sudden shivering gesture in the shadows of dark churches—these things suggested it, till Margaret herself was caught by the same suppressed excitement that seemed to be alive in Kitty. Did it all point merely to some mental state—to the nervous effects of her illness and her loss?
When they reached home about five o’clock, Kitty was naturally tired out. Margaret put her on the sofa, gave her tea, and tended her, hoping that she might drop asleep before dinner. But just as tea was over, and Kitty was lying curled up, silent and white, with that brooding look which kept Margaret’s anxiety about her constantly alive, there was a sudden sound of voices in the anteroom outside.
“Margaret!” cried Kitty, starting up in dismay—”say I’m not at home.”
Too late! Their smiling Italian housemaid threw the door open, with the air of one bringing good-fortune. And behind her appeared a tall lady, and an old gentleman hat in hand.
“May we come in, Kitty?” said Mary Lyster, advancing. “Cousin Elizabeth told us you were here.”
Kitty had sprung up. The disorder of her fair hair, her white cheeks, and the ghostly thinness of her small, black-robed form drew the curious eyes of Sir Richard. And the oddness of her manner as she greeted them only confirmed the old man’s prejudice against her.
However, greeted they were, in some sort of fashion; and Miss French gave them tea. She kept Sir Richard entertained, while Kitty and Mary conversed. They talked perfunctorily of ordinary topics—Venice, its sights, its hotels, and the people staying in them—of Lady Tranmore and various Ashe relations. Meanwhile the inmost thought of each was busy with the other.
Kitty studied the lines of Mary’s face and the fashion of her dress.
“She looks much older. And she’s not enjoying her life a bit. That’s my fault. I spoiled all her chances with Geoffrey—and she knows it. She 讨厌 me. Quite right, too.”
“Oh, you mean that nonsensical thing last night?” Sir Richard was saying to Margaret French. “Oh no, I didn’t go. But Mary, of course, thought she must go. Somebody invited her.”
Kitty started.
“You were at the serenata?” she said to Mary.
“Yes, I went with a party from the hotel.”
Kitty looked at her. A sudden flush had touched her pale cheeks, and she could not conceal the trembling of her hands.
“That was marvellous, that light on the Salute, wasn’t it?”
“Wonderful!—and on the water, too. I saw two or three people I knew—just caught their faces for a second.”
“Did you?” said Kitty. And thoughts ran fast through her head. “Did she see Geoffrey?—and does she mean me to understand that she did? How she detests me! If she did see him, of course she supposes that I know all about it, and that he’s here for me. Why don’t I ask her, straight out, whether she saw him, and make her understand that I don’t care twopence?—that she’s welcome to him—as far as I’m concerned?”
But some hidden feeling tied her tongue. Mary continued to talk about the serenata, and Kitty was presently conscious that her every word and gesture in reply was closely watched. “Yes, yes, she saw him. Perhaps she’ll tell William—or write home to mother?”
And in her excitement she began to chatter fast and loudly, mostly to Sir Richard—repeating some of the Venice tales she had told in the gondola—with much inconsequence and extravagance. The old man listened, his hands on his stick, his eyes on the ground, the expression on his strong mouth hostile or sarcastic. It was a relief to everybody when Ashe’s step was heard stumbling up the dark stairs, and the door opened on his friendly and courteous presence.
“Why, Polly!—and Cousin Richard! I wondered where you had hidden yourselves.”
Mary’s bright, involuntary smile transformed her. Ashe sat down beside her, and they were soon deep in all sorts of gossip—relations, acquaintance, politics, and what not. All Mary’s stiffness disappeared. She became the elegant, agreeable woman, of whom dinner-parties were glad. Ashe plunged into the pleasant malice of her talk, which ranged through the good and evil fortunes—mostly the latter—of half his acquaintance; discussed the debts, the love-affairs, and the follies of his political colleagues or Parliamentary foes; how the Foreign Secretary had been getting on at Balmoral—how so-and-so had been ruined at the Derby and restored to sanity and solvency by the Oaks—how Lady Parham, at Hatfield, had been made to know her place by the French Ambassador—and the like; passing thereby a charming half-hour.
Meanwhile Kitty, Margaret French, and Sir Richard kept up intermittent remarks, pausing at every other phrase to gather the crumbs that fell from the table of the other two.
Kitty was very weary, and a dead weight had fallen on her spirits. If Sir Richard had thought her bad form ten minutes before, his unspoken mind now declared her stupid. Meanwhile Kitty was saying to herself, as she watched her husband and Mary:
“I used to amuse William just as well—last year!”
When the door closed on them, Kitty fell back on her cushions with an “ouf!” of relief. William came back in a few minutes from showing the visitors the back way to their hotel, and stood beside his wife with an anxious face.
“They were too much for you, darling. They stayed too long.”
“How you and Mary chattered!” said Kitty, with a little pout. But at the same moment she slipped an appealing hand into his.
Ashe clasped the hand, and laughed.
“I always told you she was an excellent gossip.”
Sir Richard and Mary pursued their way through the narrow 街道 that led to the Piazza. Sir Richard was expatiating on Ashe’s folly in marrying such a wife.
“She looks like an actress!—and as to her conversation, she began by telling me outrageous stories and ended by not having a word to say about anything. The bad blood of the Bristols, it seems to me, without their brains.”
“Oh no, papa! Kitty is very clever. You haven’t heard her recite. She was tired to-night.”
“Well, I don’t want to flatter you, my dear!” said the old man, testily, “but I thought it was pathetic—the way in which Ashe enjoyed your conversation. It showed he didn’t get much of it at home.”
Mary smiled uncertainly. Her whole nature was still aglow from that contact with Ashe’s delightful personality. After months of depression and humiliation, her success with him had somehow restored those illusions on which cheerfulness depends.
How ill Kitty looked—and how conscious! Mary was impetuously certain that Kitty had betrayed her knowledge of Cliffe’s presence in Venice; and equally certain that William knew nothing. Poor William!
Well, what can you expect of such a temperament—such a race? Mary’s thoughts travelled confusedly towards—and through—some big and dreadful catastrophe.
And then? After it?
It seemed to her that she was once more in the Park Lane drawing-room; the familiar Morris papers and Burne-Jones drawings surrounded her; and she and Elizabeth Tranmore sat, hand in hand, talking of William—a William once more free, after much folly and suffering, to reconstruct his life….
“Here we are,” said Sir Richard Lyster, moving down a dark passage towards the brightly lit doorway of their hotel.
With a start—as of one taken red-handed—Mary awoke from her dream.
Madame d’Estrées and her friend, Donna Laura, occupied the 夹层 of the vast Vercelli palace. The palace itself belonged to the head of the Vercelli family. It was a magnificent erection of the late seventeenth century, at this moment half furnished, dilapidated, and forsaken. But the 恩特索尔 on the eastern side of the 庭院 was in good condition, and comfortably fitted up for the occasional use of the Principe. As he was wintering in Paris, he had let his rooms at an ordinary commercial rent to his kinswoman, Donna Laura. She, a soured and melancholy woman, unmarried in a Latin society which has small use or kindness for spinsters, had seized on Marguerite d’Estrées—whose acquaintance she had made in a Mont d’Or hotel—and was now keeping her like a caged canary that sings for its food.
Madame d’Estrées was quite willing. So long as she had a sofa on which to sit enthroned, a sufficiency of new gowns, a maid, cigarettes, breakfast in bed, and a supply of French novels, she appeared the most harmless and engaging of mortals. Her youth had been cruel, disorderly, and vicious. It had lasted long; but now, when middle age stood at last confessed, she was lapsing, it seemed, into amiability and good behavior. She was, indeed, fast forgetting her own history, and soon the recital of it would surprise no one so much as herself.
It was five o’clock. Madame d’Estrées had just established herself in the silk-panelled drawing-room of Donna Laura’s apartment, expectant of visitors, and, in particular, of her daughter.
In begging Kitty to come on this particular afternoon, she had not thought fit to mention that it would be Donna Laura’s “day.” Had she done so, Kitty, in consideration of her mourning, would perhaps have cried off. Whereas, really—poor, dear child!—what she wanted was distraction and amusement.
And what Madame d’Estrées wanted was the presence beside her, in public, of Lady Kitty Ashe. Kitty had already visited her mother privately, and had explored the antiquities of the Vercelli palace. But Madame d’Estrées was now intent on something more and different.
For in the four years which had now elapsed since the Ashe’s marriage this lively lady had known adversity. She had been forced to leave London, as we have seen, by the pressure of certain facts in her past history so ancient and far removed when their true punishment began that she no doubt felt it highly unjust that she should be punished for them at all. Her London debts had swallowed up what then remained to her of fortune; and, afterwards, the allowance from the Ashes was all she had to depend on. Banished to Paris, she fell into a lower stratum of life, at a moment when her faithful and mysterious friend, Markham Warington, was held in Scotland by the first painful symptoms of his sister’s last illness, and could do but little for her. She had, in fact, known the sordid shifts and straits of poverty, though the smallest moral effort would have saved her from them. She had kept disreputable company, she had been miserable, and base; and although shame is not easy to persons of her temperament, it may perhaps be said that she was ashamed of this period of her existence. Appeals to the Ashes yielded less and less, and Warington seemed to have forsaken her. She awoke at last to a panic-stricken fear of darker possibilities and more real suffering than any she had yet known, and under the stress of this fear she collapsed physically, writing both to Warington and to the Ashes in a tone of mingled reproach and despair.
The Ashes sent money, and, though Kitty was at the moment not fit to travel, prepared to come. Warington, who had just closed the eyes of his sister, went at once. He was now the last of his family, without any ties that he could not lawfully break. Within two days of his arrival in Paris, Madame d’Estrées had promised to marry him in three months, to break off all her Paris associations, and to give her life henceforward into his somewhat stern hands. The visit to Venice was part of the price that he had had to pay for her decision. Marguerite pleaded, with a shudder, that she must have a little amusement before she went to live in Dumfriesshire; and he had been obliged to acquiesce in her arrangement with Donna Laura—stipulating only that he should be their escort and guardian.
What had moved him to such an act? His reasons can only be guessed at. Warington was a man of religion, a Calvinist by education and inheritance, and of a silent and dreamy temperament. He had been intimate with very few women in his life. His sister had been a second mother to him, and both of them had been the guardians of their younger brother. When this adored brother fell shot through the lungs in the hopeless defence of Lady Blackwater’s reputation, it would have been natural enough that Markham should hate the woman who had been the occasion of such a calamity. The sister, a pious and devoted Christian, had indeed hated her, properly and duly, thenceforward. Markham, on the contrary, accepted his brother’s last commission without reluctance. In this matter at least Lady Blackwater had not been directly to blame; his mind acquitted her; and her soft, distressed beauty touched his heart. Before he knew where he was she had made an impression upon him that was to be life-long.
Then gradually he awoke to a full knowledge of her character. He suffered, but otherwise it made no difference. Finding it was then impossible to persuade her to marry him, he watched over her as best he could for some years, passing through phases of alternate hope and disgust. His sister’s affection for him was clouded by his strange relation to the Jezebel who in her opinion had destroyed their brother. He could not help it; he could only do his best to meet both claims upon him. During her lingering passage to the grave, his sister had nearly severed him from Marguerite d’Estrées. She died, however, just in time, and now here he was in Venice, passing through what seemed to him one of the ante-rooms of life, leading to no very radiant beyond. But, radiant or no, his path lay thither. And at the same time he saw that although Marguerite felt him to be her only refuge from poverty and disgrace, she was painfully afraid of him, and afraid of the life into which he was leading her.
The first guest of the afternoon proved to be Louis Harman, the painter and dilettante, who had been in former days one of the 习惯 of the house in St. James’s Place. This perfectly correct yet tolerant gentleman was wintering in Venice in order to copy the Carpaccios in San Giorgio dei Schiavoni. His copies were not good, but they were all promised to artistic fair ladies, and the days which the painter spent upon them were happy and harmless.
He came in gayly, delighted to see Madame d’Estrées in flourishing circumstances again, delivered apparently from the abyss into which he had found her sliding on the occasion of various chance visits of his own to Paris. Warington’s doing, apparently—queer fellow!
“Well!—I saw Lady Kitty in the Piazza this afternoon,” he said, as he sat down beside his hostess. Donna Laura had not yet appeared. “Very thin and fragile! But, by Jove! how these English beauties hold their own.”
“Irish, if you please,” said Madame d’Estrées, smiling.
Harman bowed to her correction, admiring at the same time both the toilette and the good looks of his companion. Dropping his voice, he asked, with a gingerly and sympathetic air, whether all was now well with the Ashe ménage. He had been sorry to hear certain gossip of the year before.
Madame d’Estrées laughed. Yes, she understood that Kitty had behaved like a little goose with that 姿势 Cliffe. But that was all over—long ago.
“Why, the silly child has everything she wants! William is devoted to her—and it can’t be long before he succeeds.”
“No need to go trifling with poets,” said Harman, smiling. “By-the-way, do you know that Geoffrey Cliffe is in Venice?”
Madame d’Estrées opened her eyes. “Est-il possible? Oh! but Kitty has forgotten all about him.”
“Of course,” said Harman. “I am told he has been seen with the Ricci.”
Madame d’Estrées raised her shoulders this time in addition to her eyes. Then her face clouded.
“I believe,” she said, slowly, “that woman may come here this afternoon.”
“Is she a friend of yours?” Harman’s tone expressed his surprise.
“I knew her in Paris,” said Madame d’Estrées, with some hesitation, “when she was a student at the Conservatoire. She and I had some common acquaintance. And now—frankly, I daren’t offend her. She has the most appalling temper!—and she sticks at nothing.”
Harman wondered what the exact truth of this might be, but did not inquire. And as guests—including Colonel Warington—began to arrive, and Donna Laura appeared and began to dispense tea, the 座谈沟通,特特 被打断了。
Donna Laura’s 沙龙 was soon well filled, and Harman watched the gathering with curiosity. As far as it concerned Madame d’Estrées—and she was clearly the main attraction which had brought it together—it represented, he saw, a phase of social recovery. A few prominent Englishmen, passing through Venice, came in without their wives, making perfunctory excuse for the absence of these ladies. But the cosmopolitans of all kinds, who crowded in—Anglo-Italians, foreign diplomats, travellers of many sorts, and a few restless Venetians, bearing the great names of old, to whom their own Venice was little more than a place of occasional sojourn—made satisfactory amends for these persons of too long memories. In all these travellers’ towns, Venice, Rome, and Florence, there is indeed a society, and a very agreeable society, which is wholly irresponsible, and asks few or no questions. The elements of it meet as strangers, and as strangers they mostly part. But between the meeting and the parting there lies a moment, all the gayer, perhaps, because of its social uncertainty and freedom.
Madame d’Estrées was profiting by it to the full. She was in excellent spirits and talk; bright-rose carnations shone in the bosom of her dress; one white arm, bared to the elbow, lay stretched carelessly on the fine cut-velvet which covered the gilt sofa—part of a suite of Venetian Louis Quinze, clumsily gorgeous—on which she sat; the other hand pulled the ears of a toy spaniel. On the ceiling above her, Tiepolo had painted a headlong group of sensuous forms, alive with vulgar movement and passion; the 丘比特 and the goddesses, peering through aërial balustrades, looked down complacently on Madame d’Estrées.
Meanwhile there stood behind her—a silent, distinguished figure—the man of whom Harman saw that she was always nervously and sometimes timidly conscious. Harman had been reading Molière’s “唐璜”. The sentinel figure of Warington mingled in his imagination with the statue of the Commander.
Or, again, he was tickled by a vision of Madame d’Estrées grown old, living in a Scotch house, turreted and severe, tended by servants of the “Auld Licht,” or shivering under a faithful minister on Sundays. Had she any idea of the sort of fold towards which Warington—at once Covenanter and man of the world—was carrying his lost sheep?
The sheep, however, was still gambolling at large. Occasionally a guest appeared who proved it. For instance, at a certain tumultuous entrance, billowing skirts, vast hat, and high-pitched voice all combining in the effect, Madame d’Estrées flushed violently, and Warington’s stiffness redoubled. On the threshold stood the young actress, Mademoiselle Ricci, a Marseillaise, half French, half Italian, who was at the moment the talk of Venice. Why, would take too long to tell. It was by no means mostly due to her talent, which, however, was displayed at the Apollo theatre two or three times a week, and was no doubt considerable. She was a flamboyant lady, with astonishing black eyes, a too transparent white dress, over which was slung a small black mantilla, a scarlet hat and parasol, and a startling fan of the same color. Both before and after her greeting of Madame d’Estrées—whom she called her “chérie” and her “belle Marguerite”—she created a whirlwind in the 沙龙. She was noisy, rude, and false; it could only be said on the other side that she was handsome—for those who admired the kind of thing; and famous—more or less. The intimacy of the party was broken up by her, for wherever she was she brought uproar, and it was impossible to forget her. And this uneasy attention which she compelled was at its height when the door was once more thrown open for the entrance of Lady Kitty Ashe.
“Ah, my darling Kitty!” cried Madame d’Estrées, rising in a soft enthusiasm.
Kitty came in slowly, holding herself very erect, a delicate and distinguished figure, in her deep mourning. She frowned as she saw the crowd in the room.
“I’ll come another time!” she said, hastily, to her mother, beginning to retreat.
“Oh, Kitty!” cried Madame d’Estrées, in distress, holding her fast.
At that moment Harman, who was watching them both with keenness, saw that Kitty had perceived Mademoiselle Ricci. The actress had paused in her chatter to stare at the new-comer. She sat fronting the entrance, her head insolently thrown back, knees crossed, a cigarette poised in the plump and dimpled hand.
A start ran through Kitty’s small person. She allowed her mother to lead her in and introduce her to Donna Laura.
“Ah-ha, my lady!” said Harman, to himself. “Are you, perhaps, interested in the Ricci? Is it possible even that you have seen her before?”
Kitty, however, betrayed herself to no one else. To other people it was only evident that she did not mean to be introduced to the actress. She pointedly and sharply avoided it. This was interpreted as aristocratic 高度, and did her no harm. On the contrary, she was soon chattering French with a group of diplomats, and the centre of the most animated group in the room. All the new-comers who could attached themselves to it, and the actress found herself presently almost deserted. She put up her eye-glass, studied Kitty impertinently, and asked a man sitting near her for the name of the strange lady.
“Isn’t she lovely, my little Kitty!” said Madame d’Estrées, in the ears of a Bavarian baron, who was also much occupied in staring at the small beauty in black. “I may say it, though I am her mother. And my son-in-law, too. Have you seen him? Such a handsome fellow!—and 这样 a dear!—so kind to me. They 对工资盗窃, you know, that he will be Prime Minister.”
The baron bowed, ironically, and inquired who the gentleman might be. He had not caught Kitty’s name, and Madame d’Estrées had been for some time labelled in his mind as something very near to an adventuress.
Madame d’Estrées eagerly explained, and he bowed again, with a difference. He was a man of great intelligence, acquainted with English politics. So that was 真 the wife of the man to whose personality and future the London correspondent of the 报刊杂志 had within the preceding week devoted a particularly interesting article, which he had read with attention. His estimate of Madame d’Estrées’ place in the world altered at once. Yet it was strange that she—or, rather, Donna Laura—should admit such a person as Mademoiselle Ricci to their 沙龙.
The mother, indeed, that afternoon had much reason to be socially grateful to the daughter. Curious contrast with the days when Kitty had been the mere troublesome appendage of her mother’s life! It was clear to Marguerite d’Estrées now that if she was to accept restraint and virtuous living, if she was to submit to this marriage she dreaded, yet saw no way to escape, her best link with the gay world in the future might well be through the Ashes. Kitty could do a great deal for her; let her cultivate Kitty; and begin, perhaps, by convincing William Ashe on this present occasion that for once she was not going to ask him for money.
In the height of the party, Lord Magellan appeared. Madame d’Estrées at first looked at him with bewilderment, till Kitty, shaking herself free, came hastily forward to introduce him. At the name the mother’s face flashed into smiles. The ramifications of two or three aristocracies represented the only subject she might be said to know. Dear Kitty!
Lord Magellan, after Madame d’Estrées had talked to him about his family in a few light and skilful phrases, which suggested knowledge, while avoiding flattery, was introduced to the Bavarian baron and a French naval officer. But he was not interesting to them, nor they to him; Kitty was surrounded and unapproachable; and a flood of new arrivals distracted Madame d’Estrées’ attention. The Ricci, who had noticed the restrained 表现力 of his reception, pounced on the young man, taming her ways and gestures to what she supposed to be his English prudery, and produced an immediate effect upon him. Lord Magellan, who was only dumb with English marriageable girls, allowed himself to be amused, and threw himself into a low chair by the actress—a capture apparently for the afternoon.
Louis Harman was sitting behind Kitty, a little to her right. He saw her watching the actress and her companion; noticed a compression of the lip, a flash in the eye. She sprang up, said she must go home, and practically dissolved the party.
Mademoiselle Ricci, who had also risen, proposed to Lord Magellan that she should take him in her gondola to the shop of a famous dealer on the Canal.
“Thank you very much,” said Lord Magellan, irresolute, and he looked at Kitty. The look apparently decided him, for he immediately added that he had unfortunately an engagement in the opposite direction. The actress angrily drew herself up, and proposed a later appointment. Then Kitty carelessly intervened.
“Do you remember that you promised to see me home?” she said to the young man. “Don’t if it bores you!”
Lord Magellan eagerly protested. Kitty moved away, and he followed her.
“Chère madame, will you present me to your daughter?” said the Ricci, in an unnecessarily loud voice.
Madame d’Estrées, with a flurried gesture, touched Kitty on the arm.
“Kitty, Mademoiselle Ricci.”
Kitty took no notice. Madame d’Estrées said, quickly, in a low, imploring voice:
“Please, dear Kitty. I’ll explain.”
Kitty turned abruptly, looked at her mother, and at the woman to whom she was to be introduced.
“Ah! comme elle est charmante!” cried the actress, with an inflection of irony in her strident voice. “Miladi, il faut absolument que nous nous connaissions. Je connais votre chère mère depuis si longtemps! À Paris, l’hiver passé c’était une amitié des plus tendres!”
The nasal drag she gave to the words was partly natural, partly insolent. Madame d’Estrées bit her lip.
“Oui?” said Kitty, indifferently. “Je n’en avais jamais entendu parler.”
Her brilliant eyes studied the woman before her. “She has some hold on maman,” she said to herself, in disgust. “She knows of something shady that maman has done.” Then another thought stung her; and with the most indifferent bow, triumphing in the evident offence that she was giving, she turned to Lord Magellan.
“You’d like to see the Palazzo?”
Warington at once offered himself as a guide.
But Kitty declared she knew the way, would just show Lord Magellan the 钢琴金钗, dismiss him at the grand staircase, and return. Lord Magellan made his farewells.
As Kitty passed through the door of the 沙龙, while the young man held back the velvet 门廊 which hung over it, she was aware that Mademoiselle Ricci was watching her. The Marseillaise was leaning heavily on a 椅子, supported by a hand behind her. A slow, disdainful smile played about her lips, some evil threatening thought expressed itself through every feature of her rounded, coarsened beauty. Kitty’s sharp look met hers, and the curtain dropped.
“Don’t, please, let that woman take you anywhere—to see anything!” said Kitty, with energy, to her companion, as they walked through the rooms of the 梅扎尼诺.
Lord Magellan laughed. “What’s the matter with her?”
“Oh, nothing!” said Kitty, impatiently, “except that she’s wicked—and common—and a snake—and your mother would have a fit if she knew you had anything to do with her.”
The red-haired youth looked grave.
“Thank you, Lady Kitty,” he said, quietly. “I’ll take your advice.”
“Oh, I say, what a nice boy you are!” cried Kitty, impulsively, laying a hand a moment on his shoulder. And then, as though his filial instinct had awakened hers, she added, with hasty falsehood: “Maman, of course, knows nothing about her. That was just bluff what she said. But Donna Laura oughtn’t to ask such people. There—that’s the way.”
And she pointed to a small staircase in the wall, whereof the trap-door at the top was open. They climbed it, and found themselves at once in one of the great rooms of the 钢琴金钗, to which this quick and easy access from the inhabited 恩特索尔 had been but recently contrived.
“What a marvellous place!” cried Lord Magellan, looking round him.
They were in the principal apartment of the famous Vercelli palace, a legacy from one of those classical architects whose work may be seen in the late seventeenth-century buildings of Venice. The rooms, enormously high, panelled here and there in tattered velvets and brocades, or frescoed in fast-fading scenes of old Venetian life, stretched in bewildering succession on either side of a central passage or broad corridor, all of them leading at last on the northern side to a vast hall painted in architectural perspective by the pupils of Tiepolo, and overarched by a ceiling in which the master himself had massed a multitude of forms equal to Rubens in variety and facility of design, expressed in a thin trenchancy of style. Figures recalling the ancient triumphs and possessions of Venice, in days when she sat dishonored and despoiled, crowded the coved roof, the painted cornices and pediments. Gayly colored birds hovered in blue skies; philosophers and poets in grisaille made a strange background for large-limbed beauties couched on roses, or young warriors amid trophies of shining arms; and while all this garrulous commonplace lived and breathed above, the walls below, cold in color and academic in treatment, maintained as best they could the dignity of the vast place, thus given up to one of the greatest of artists and emptiest of minds.
On the floor of this magnificent hall stood a few old and broken chairs. But the candelabra of glass and ormolu, hanging from the ceiling, were very nearly of the date of the palace, and superb. Meanwhile, through a faded taffeta of a golden-brown shade, the afternoon light from the high windows to the southwest poured into the stately room.
“How it dwarfs us!” said Lord Magellan, looking at his companion. “One feels the merest pygmy! From the age of decadence indeed!” He glanced at the guide-book in his hand. “Good Heavens!—if this was their decay, what was their bloom?”
“Yes—it’s big—and jolly. I like it,” said Kitty, absently. Then she recollected herself. “This is your way out. Federigo!” she called to an old man, the 监护人 of the palace, who appeared at the magnificent door leading to the grand staircase.
“Commanda, eccellenza!” The old man, bent and feeble, approached. He carried a watering-pot wherewith he was about to minister to some straggling flowers in the windows fronting the Grand Canal. A thin cat rubbed itself against his legs. As he stood in his shabbiness under the high, carved door, the only permanent denizen of the building, he seemed an embodiment of the old shrunken Venetian life, still haunting a city it was no longer strong enough to use.
“Will you show this signor the way out?” said Kitty, in tourists’ Italian. “Are you soon shutting up?”
For the main palazzo, which during the day was often shown to sightseers, was locked at half-past five, only the two 肠溶素—one tenanted by Donna Laura, the other by the 监护人—remaining accessible.
The old man murmured something which Kitty did not understand, pointing at the same time to a door leading to the interior of the 钢琴金钗. Kitty thought that he asked her to be quick, if she wished still to go round the palace. She tried to explain that he might lock up if he pleased; her way of retreat to the 梅扎尼诺, down the small staircase, was always open. Federigo looked puzzled, again said something in unintelligible Venetian, and led the way to the grand staircase followed by Lord Magellan.
A heavy door clanged below. Kitty was alone. She looked round her, at the stretches of marble floor, and the streaks of pale sunshine that lay upon its black and white, at the lofty walls painted with a dim superb architecture, at the crowded ceiling, the gorgeous candelabra. With its costly decoration, the great room suggested a rich and festal life; thronging groups below answering to the Tiepolo groups above; beauties patched and masked; gallants in brocaded coats; splendid senators, robed like William at the fancy ball.
Suddenly she caught sight of herself in one of the high and narrow mirrors that filled the spaces between the windows. In her mourning dress, with the light behind her, she made a tiny spectre in the immense hall. The image of her present self—frail, black-robed—recalled the two figures in the glass of her Hill Street room—the sparkling white of her goddess dress, and William’s smiling face above hers, his arm round her waist.
How happy she had been that night! Even her wild fury with Mary Lyster seemed to her now a kind of happiness. How gladly would she have exchanged for it either of the two terrors that now possessed her!
With a shiver she crossed the hall, and pushed her way into the suite of rooms on the northern side. She felt herself in absolute possession of the palace. Federigo no doubt had locked up; her mother and a few guests were still talking in the 沙龙 的 夹层, expecting her to return. She would return—soon; but the solitariness and wildness of this deserted place drew her on.
Room after room opened before her—bare, save for a few worm-eaten chairs, a fragment of tapestry on the wall, or some tattered portraits in the Longhi manner, indifferent to begin with, and long since ruined by neglect. Yet here and there a young face looked out, roses in the hair and at the breast; or a Doge’s cap—and beneath it phantom features still breathing even in the last decay of canvas and paint the violence and intrigue of the living man—the ghost of character held there by the ghost of art. Or a lad in slashed brocade, for whom even in this silent palace, and in spite of the gaping crack across his face, life was still young; a cardinal; a nun; a man of letters in clerical dress, the Abbé Prévost of his day….
Presently she found herself in a wide corridor, before a high, closed door. She tried it, and saw a staircase mounting and descending. A passion of curiosity that was half romance, half restlessness, drove her on. She began to ascend the marble steps, hearing only the echo of her own movements, a little afraid of the cold spaces of the vast house, and yet delighting in the fancies that crowded upon her. At the top of the flight she found, of course, another apartment, on the same plan as the one below, but smaller and less stately. The central hall entered from a door supported by marble caryatids, was flagged in yellow marble, and frescoed freely with faded eighteenth-century scenes—cardinals walking in stiff gardens, a pope alighting from his coach, surrounded by peasants on their knees, and behind him fountains and obelisk and the towering façade of St. Peter’s. At the moment, thanks to a last glow of light coming in through a west window at the farther end, it was a place beautiful though forlorn. But the rooms into which she looked on either side were wreck and desolation itself, crowded with broken furniture, many of them shuttered and dark.
As she closed the last door, her attention was caught by a strange bust placed on a pedestal above the entrance. What was wrong with it? An accident? An injury? She went nearer, straining her eyes to see. No!—there was no injury. The face indeed was gone. Or, rather, where the face should have been there now descended a marble veil from brow to breast, of the most singular and sinister effect. Otherwise the bust was that of a young and beautiful woman. A pleasing horror seized on Kitty as she looked. Her fancy hunted for the clew. A faithless wife, blotted from her place?—made infamous forever by the veil which hid from human eye the beauty she had dishonored? Or a beloved mistress, on whom the mourning lover could no longer bear to look—the veil an emblem of undying and irremediable grief?
Kitty stood enthralled, striving to pierce the ghastly meaning of the bust, when a sound—a distant sound—a shock through her. She heard a step overhead, in the topmost apartment, or 曼萨尔德 of the palace, a step that presently traversed the whole length of the floor immediately above her head and began to descend the stair.
Strange! Federigo must have shut the great gates by this time—as she had bade him? He himself inhabited the smaller 恩特索尔 on the farther side of the palace, far away. Other inhabitants there were none; so Donna Laura had assured her.
The step approached, resonant in the silence. Kitty, seized with nervous fright, turned and ran down the broad staircase by which she had come, through the series of deserted rooms in the 钢琴金钗, till she reached the great hall.
There she paused, panting, curiosity and daring once more getting the upperhand. The door she had just passed through, which gave access to the staircase, opened again and shut. The stranger who had entered came leisurely towards the hall, lingering apparently now and then to look at objects on the way. Presently a voice—an exclamation.
Kitty retreated, caught at the arm of a chair for support, clung to it trembling. A man entered, holding his hat in one hand and a small white glove in the other.
At sight of the lady in black, standing on the other side of the hall, he started violently—and stopped. Then, just as Kitty, who had so far made neither sound nor movement, took the first hurried step towards the staircase by which she had entered, Geoffrey Cliffe came forward.
“How do you do, Lady Kitty? Do not, I beg of you, let me disturb you. I had half an hour to spare, and I gave the old man down-stairs a franc or two, that he might let me wander over this magnificent old place by myself for a bit. I have always had a fancy for deserted houses. You, I gather, have it, too. I will not interfere with you for a moment. Before I go, however, let me return what I believe to be your property.”
He came nearer, with a studied, deliberate air, and held out the white glove. She saw it was her own and accepted it.
“谢谢。”
She bowed with all the haughtiness she could muster, though her limbs shook under her. Then as she walked quickly towards the door of exit, Cliffe, who was nearer to it than she, also moved towards it, and threw it open for her. As she approached him he said, quietly:
“This is not the first time we have met in Venice, Lady Kitty.”
She wavered, could not avoid looking at him, and stood arrested. That almost white head!—that furrowed brow!—those haggard eyes! A slight, involuntary cry broke from her lips.
Cliffe smiled. Then he straightened his tall figure.
“You see, perhaps, that I have not grown younger. You are quite right. I have left my youth—what remained of it—among those splendid fellows whom the Turks have been harrying and torturing. Well!—they were worth it. I would give it them again.”
短暂的沉默。
The eyes of each perused the other’s face. Kitty began some words, and left them unfinished. Cliffe resumed—in another tone—while the door he held swung gently backward, his hand following it.
“I spent last winter, as perhaps you know, with the Bosnian insurgents in the mountains. It was a tough business—hardships I should never have had the pluck to face if I had known what was before me. Then, in July, I got fever. I had to come away, to find a doctor, and I was a long time at Cattaro pulling round. And, meanwhile, the Turks—God blast them!—have been at their fiends’ work. Half my particular friends, with whom I spent the winter, have been hacked to pieces since I left them.”
She wavered, held by his look, by the coercion of that mingled passion and indifference with which he spoke. There was in his manner no suggestion whatever of things behind, no reference to herself or to the past between them. His passion, it seemed, was for his comrades; his indifference for her. What had he to do with her any more? He had been among the realities of battle and death, while she had been mincing and ambling along the usual feminine path. That was the utterance, it seemed, of the man’s whole manner and personality, and nothing could have more effectually recalled Kitty’s wild nature to the lure.
“Are you going back?” She had turned from him and was pulling at the fingers of the glove he had picked up.
“Of course! I am only kicking my heels here till I can collect the money and stores—ay, and the 男子—I want. I give my orders in London, and I must be here to see to the transshipment of stores and the embarkation of my small force! Not meant for the newspapers, you see, Lady Kitty—these little details!”
He drew himself up smiling, his worn aspect expressing just that mingling of dare-devil adventure with subtler and more self-conscious things which gave edge and power to his personality.
“I heard you were wounded,” said Kitty, abruptly.
“So I was—badly. We were defending a 波尔耶—one of their high mountain valleys, against a Beg and his troops. My left arm”—he pointed to the black sling in which it was still held—”was nearly cut to pieces. However, it is practically well.”
He took it out of the sling and showed that he could use it. Then his expression changed. He stepped back to the door, and opened it ceremoniously.
“Don’t, however, let me delay you, Lady Kitty—by my chatter.”
Kitty’s cheeks were crimson. Her momentary yielding vanished in a passion of scorn. What!—he knew that she had seen him before, seen him with that woman—and he dared to play the mere shattered hero, kept in Venice by these crusader’s reasons!
“Have you another volume on the way?” she asked him, as she advanced. “I read your last.”
Her smile was the smile of an enemy. He eyed her strangely.
“Did you? That was waste of time.”
“I think you intended I should read it.”
他犹豫了。
“Lady Kitty, those things are very far away. I can’t defend myself—for they seem wiped out.” He had crossed his arms, and was leaning back against the open door, a fine, rugged figure, by no means repentant.
基蒂笑了。
“You overstate the difference!”
“Between the past and the present? What does that mean?”
She dropped her eyes a moment, then raised them.
“Do you often go to San Lazzaro?”
他鞠躬。
“I had a suspicion that the vision at the window—though it was there only an instant—was you! So you saw Mademoiselle Ricci?”
His tone was assurance itself. Kitty disdained to answer. Her slight gesture bade him let her pass through; but he ignored it.
“I find her kind, Lady Kitty. She listens to me—I get sympathy from her.”
“And you want sympathy?”
Her tone stung him. “As a hungry man wants food—as an artist wants beauty. But I know where I shall 不能 得到它。”
“That is always a gain!” said Kitty, throwing back her little head. “Mr. Cliffe, pray let me bid you good-bye.”
He suddenly made a step forward. “Lady Kitty!”—his deep-set, imperious eyes searched her face—”I can’t restrain myself. Your look—your expression—go to my heart. Laugh at me if you like. It’s true. What have you been doing with yourself?”
He bent towards her, scrutinizing every delicate feature, and, as it seemed, shaken with agitation. She breathed fast.
“Mr. Cliffe, you must know that any sympathy from you to me—is an insult! Kindly let me pass.”
He, too, flushed deeply.
“Insult is a hard word, Lady Kitty. I regret that poem.”
She swept forward in silence, but he still stood in the way.
“I wrote it—almost in delirium. Ah, well”—he shook his head impatiently—”if you don’t believe me, let it be. I am not the man I was. The perspective of things is altered for me.” His voice fell. “Women and children in their blood—heroic trust—and brute hate—the stars for candles—the high peaks for friends—those things have come between me and the past. But you are right; we had better not talk any more. I hear old Federigo coming up the stairs. Good-night, Lady Kitty—good-night!”
He opened the door. She passed him, and, to her own intense annoyance, a bunch of pale roses she carried at her belt brushed against the doorway, so that one broke and fell. She turned to pick it up, but it was already in Cliffe’s hand. She held out hers, threateningly.
“I think not.” He put it in his pocket. “Here is Federigo. Good-night.”
It was quite dark when Kitty reached home. She groped her way up-stairs and opened the door of the 沙龙. So weary was she that she dropped into the first chair, not seeing at first that any one was in the room. Then she caught sight of a brown-paper parcel, apparently just unfastened, on the table, and within it three books, of similar shape and size. A movement startled her.
“威廉!”
Ashe rose slowly from the deep chair in which he had been sitting. His aspect seemed to her terrified eyes utterly and wholly changed. In his hand he held a book like those on the table, and a paper-cutter. His face expressed the remote abstraction of a man who has been wrestling his way through some hard contest of the mind.
She ran to him. She wound her arms round him.
“William, William! I didn’t mean any harm! I didn’t! Oh, I have been so miserable! I tried to stop it—I did all I could. I have hardly slept at all—since we talked—you remember? Oh, William, look at me! Don’t be angry with me!”
Ashe disengaged himself.
“I have asked Blanche to pack for me to-night, Kitty. I go home by the early train to-morrow.”
“家!”
She stood petrified; then a light flashed into her face.
“You’ll buy it all up? You’ll stop it, William?”
Ashe drew himself together.
“I am going home,” he said, with slow decision, “to place my resignation in the hands of Lord Parham.”
Kitty fell back in silence, staring at William. She loosened her mantle and threw it off, then she sat down in a chair near the wood fire, and bent over it, shivering.
“Of course you didn’t mean that, William?” she said, at last.
Ashe turned.
“I should not have said it unless I had meant every word of it. It is, of course, the only thing to be done.”
Kitty looked at him miserably. “But you 不能 mean that—that you’ll resign because of that book?”
She pulled it towards her and turned over the pages with a hand that trembled. “That would be too foolish!”
Ashe made no reply. He was standing before the fire, with his hands in his pockets, and a face half absent, half ironical, as though his mind followed the sequences of a far distant future.
“William!” She caught the sleeve of his coat with a little cry. “I wrote that book because I thought it would help you.”
His attention came back to her.
“Yes, Kitty, I believe you did.”
She gulped down a sob. His tone was so odd, so remote.
“Many people have done such things. I know they have. Why—why, it was only meant—as a skit—to make people laugh! There’s 没有 harm in it, William.”
Ashe, without speaking, took up the book and looked back at certain pages, which he seemed to have marked. Kitty’s feeling as she watched him was the feeling of the condemned culprit, held dumb and strangled in the grip of his own sense of justice, and yet passionately conscious how much more he could say for himself than anybody is ever likely to say for him.
“When did you have the first idea of this book, Kitty?”
“About a year ago,” she said, in a low voice.
“In October? At Haggart?”
基蒂点点头。
Ashe thought. Her admission took him back to the autumn weeks at Haggart, after the Cliffe crisis and the rearrangement of the ministry in the July of that year. He well remembered that those weeks had been weeks of special happiness for both of them. Afterwards, the winter had brought many renewed qualms and vexations. But in that period, between the storms of the session and Kitty’s escapades in the hunting-field, memory recalled a tender, melting time—a time rich in hidden and exquisite hours, when with Kitty on his breast, lip to lip and heart to heart, he had reaped, as it seemed to him, the fruits of that indulgence which, as he knew, his mother scorned. And at that very moment, behind his back, out of his sight, she had begun this atrocious thing.
He looked at her again—the bitterness almost at his lips, almost beyond his control.
“I wish I knew what could have been your possible object in writing it?”
She sat up and confronted him. The color flamed back again into her pale cheeks.
“You know I told you—when we had that talk in London—that I wanted to write. I thought it would be good for me—would take my thoughts off—well, what had happened. And I began to write this—and it amused me to find I could do it—and I suppose I got carried away. I loved describing you, and glorifying you—and I loved making caricatures of Lady Parham—and all the people I hated. I used to work at it whenever you were away—or I was dull and there was nothing to do.
“Did it never occur to you,” said Ashe, interrupting, “that it might get you—get us both—into trouble, and that you ought to tell me?”
她动摇了。
“No!” she said, at last. “I never did mean to tell you, while I was writing it. You know I don’t tell lies, William! The real fact is, I was afraid you’d stop it.”
“Good God!” He threw up his hands with a sound of amazement, then thrust them again into his pockets and began to pace up and down.
“But then”—she resumed—”I thought you’d soon get over it, and that it was funny—and everybody would laugh—and you’d laugh—and there would be an end of it.”
He turned and stared at her. “Frankly, Kitty—I don’t understand what you can be made of! You imagined that that sketch of Lord Parham”—he struck the open page—”a sketch written by 我的太太, describing my official chief—when he was my guest—under my own roof—with all sorts of details of the most intimate and offensive kind—mocking his speech—his manners—his little personal ways—charging him with being the corrupt tool of Lady Parham, disloyal to his colleagues, a man not to be trusted—and justifying all this by a sort of evidence that you could only have got as my wife and Lord Parham’s hostess—you actually supposed that you could write and publish 那!—without in the first place its being plain to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that you had written it—and in the next, without making it impossible for your husband to remain a colleague of the man you had treated in such a way? Kitty!—you are not a stupid woman! Do you really mean to say that you could write and publish this book without 知道 that you were doing a wrong action—which, so far from serving me, could only damage my career irreparably? Did nothing—did no one warn you—if you were determined to keep such a secret from your husband, whom it most concerned?”
He had come to stand beside her, both hands on the back of a chair—stooping forward to emphasize his words—the lines of his fine face and noble brow contracted by anger and pain.
“Mr. Darrell warned me,” said Kitty, in a low voice, as though those imperious eyes compelled the truth from her—”but of course I didn’t believe him.”
“Darrell!” cried Ashe, in amazement—”Darrell! You confided in him?”
“I told him all about it. It was he who took it to a publisher.”
“Hound!” said Ashe, between his teeth. “So that was his revenge.”
“Oh, you needn’t blame him too much,” said Kitty, proudly, not understanding the remark. “He wrote to me not long ago to say it was horribly unwise—and that he washed his hands of it.”
“Ay—when he’d done the deed! When did you show it him?” said Ashe, impetuously.
“At Haggart—in August.”
“等等,蛮子!” said Ashe, turning away. “Well, that’s done with. Now the only thing to do is to face the music. I go home. Whatever can be done to withdraw the book from circulation I shall, of course, do; but I gather from this precious letter”—he held up the note which had been enclosed in the parcel—”that some thousands of copies have already been ordered by the booksellers, and a few distributed to ‘persons in high places.'”
“William,” she said, in despair, catching his arm again—”listen! I offered the man two hundred pounds only yesterday to stop it.”
艾希笑了。
“What did he reply?”
“He said it was impossible. Fifty copies had been already issued.”
“The review copies, no doubt. By next week there will be, I should say, five thousand in the shops. Your man understands his business, Kitty. This is the kind of puff preliminary he has been scattering about.”
And with sparkling eyes he handed to her a printed slip containing an outline of the book for the information of the booksellers.
It drew attention to the extraordinary interest of the production as a painting of the upper class by the hand of one belonging to its inmost circle. “People of the highest social and political importance will be recognized at once; the writer handles cabinet ministers and their wives with equal freedom, and with a touch betraying the closest and most intimate knowledge. Details hitherto quite unknown to the public of ministerial combinations and intrigues—especially of the feminine influences involved—will be found here in their lightest and most amusing form. A certain famous fancy ball will be identified without difficulty. Scathing as some of the portraits are, the writer is by no means merely cynical. The central figure of the book is a young and rising statesman, whose aim and hopes are touched with a loving hand—the charm of the portrait being only equalled by the venom with which the writer assails those who have thwarted or injured his hero. But our advice is simply—’Buy and Read!’ Conjecture will run wild about the writer. All we can say is that the most romantic or interesting surmise that can possibly be formed will fall far short of the reality.”
“The beast is a shrewd beast!” said Ashe, as he raised himself from the stooping position in which he had been following the sentences over Kitty’s shoulder. “He knows that the public will rush for his wares! How much money did he offer you, Kitty?”
He turned sharply on his heel to wait for her reply.
“A hundred pounds,” said Kitty, almost inaudibly—”and a hundred more if five thousand sold.” She had returned again to her crouching attitude over the fire.
“Generous!—upon my word!” said Ashe, scornfully turning over the two thick-leaved, loosely printed Mudie volumes. “A guinea to the public, I suppose—fifteen shillings to the trade. Darrell didn’t exactly advise you to advantage, Kitty.”
Kitty kept silence. The sarcastic violence of his tone fell on her like a blow. She seemed to shrink together; while Ashe resumed his walk to and fro.
Presently, however, she looked up, to ask, in a voice that tried for steadiness:
“What do you mean to do—exactly—William?”
“I shall, of course, buy up all I can; I shall employ some lawyer fellow, and appeal to the good feelings of the newspapers. There will be no trouble with the respectable ones. But some copies will get out, and some of the Opposition newspapers will make capital out of them. Naturally!—they’d be precious fools if they didn’t.”
A momentary hope sprang up in Kitty.
“But if you buy it up—and stop all the papers that matter,” she faltered—”why should you resign, William? There won’t be—such great harm done.”
For answer he opened the book, and without speaking pointed to two passages—the first, an account full of point and malice of the negotiations between himself and Lord Parham at the time when he entered the cabinet, the conditions he himself had made, and the confidential comments of the Premier on the men and affairs of the moment.
“Do you remember the night when I told you those things, Kitty?”
Yes, Kitty remembered well. It was a night of intimate talk between man and wife, a night when she had shown him her sweetest, tenderest mood, and he—incorrigible optimist!—had persuaded himself that she was growing as wise as she was lovely.
Her lip trembled. Then he pointed to the second—to the pitiless picture of Lord Parham at Haggart.
“You wrote that—when he was under our roof—there by our pressing invitation! You couldn’t have written it—unless he had so put himself in your power. A wandering Arab, Kitty, will do no harm to the man who has eaten and drunk in his tent!”
She looked up, and as she read his face she understood at last how what she had done had outraged in him all the natural and all the inherited instincts of a generous and fastidious nature. The “great gentleman,” so strong in him as in all the best of English statesmen, whether they spring from the classes or the masses, was up in arms.
She sprang to her feet with a cry. “William, you can’t give up politics! It would make you miserable.”
“That can’t be helped. And I couldn’t go on like this, Kitty—even if this affair of the book could be patched up. The strain’s too great.”
They were but a yard apart, and yet she seemed to be looking at him across a gulf.
“You have been so happy in your work!” This time the sob escaped her.
“Oh, don’t let’s talk about that,” he said, abruptly, as he walked away. “There’ll be a certain relief in giving up the impossible. I’ll go back to my books. We can travel, I suppose, and put politics out of our heads.”
“But—you won’t resign your seat?”
“No,” he said, after a pause—”no. As far as I can see at present, I sha’n’t resign my seat, though my constituents, of course, will be very sick. But I doubt whether I shall stand again.”
Every phrase fell as though with a thud on Kitty’s ear. It was the wreck of a man’s life, and she had done it.
“Shall you—shall you go and see Lord Parham?” she asked, after a pause.
“I shall write to him first. I imagine”—he pointed to the letter lying on the table—”that creature has already sent him the book. Then later I daresay I shall see him.”
她抬头。
“If I wrote and told him it was all my doing, William?—if I grovelled to him?”
“The responsibility is mine,” he said, sternly. “I had no business to tell even you the things printed there. I told them at my own risk. If anything I say has any weight with you, Kitty, you will write nothing.”
She spread out her hands to the fire again, and he heard her say, as though to herself:
“The thing is—the awful thing is, that I’m mad—I must be mad. I never thought of all this when I was writing it. I wrote it in a kind of dream. In the first place, I wanted to glorify you—”
He broke into an exclamation.
“您的 味道, Kitty!—where was your taste? That a wife should praise a husband in public! You could only make us both laughing-stocks.”
His handsome features quivered a little. He felt this part of it the most galling, the most humiliating of all; and she understood. In his eyes she had shown herself not only reckless and treacherous, but indelicate, vulgar, capable of besmirching the most sacred and intimate of relations.
她从座位上站起来。
“I must go and take my things off,” she said, in “a vague voice,” and as she moved she tottered a little. He turned to look at her. Amid his own crushing sense of defeat and catastrophe, his natural and righteous indignation, he remembered that she had been ill—he remembered their child. But whether from the excitement, first of the meeting in the Vercelli palace, and now of this scene—or merely from the heat of the fire over which she had been hanging, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes blazed. Her beauty had never been more evident; but it made little appeal to him; it was the wild, ungovernable beauty from which he had suffered. He saw that she was excited, but there was an air also of returning physical vigor; and the nascent feeling which might have been strengthened by pallor and prostration died away.
Kitty moved as though to pass him and go to her room, which opened out of the 沙龙. But as she neared him she suddenly caught him by the arm.
“William!—William! don’t do it!—don’t resign! Let me apologize!”
He was angered by her persistence, and merely said, coldly:
“I have given you my reasons, Kitty, why such a course is impossible.”
“And—and you start to-morrow morning?”
“By the early train. Please let me go, Kitty. There are many things to arrange. I must order the gondola, and see if the people here can cash me a check.”
“You mean—to leave me alone?” The words had a curious emphasis.
“I had a few words with Miss French before you came in. The packet arrived by the evening post, and seeing that it was books—for you—I opened it. After about an hour”—he turned and walked away again—”I saw my bearings. Then I called Miss French, told her I should have to go to-morrow, and asked her how long she could stay with you.”
“William!” cried Kitty again, leaning heavily on the table beside her—”don’t go!—don’t leave me!”
他的脸变黑了。
“So you would prevent me from taking the only honorable, the only decent way out of this thing that remains to me?”
She made no immediate reply. She stood—wrapped apparently in painful abstraction—a creature lovely and distraught. The masses of her fair hair loosened by the breeze on the canal had fallen about her cheeks and shoulders; her black hat framed the white brow and large, feverish eyes; and the sable cape she had worn in the gondola had slipped down over the thin, sloping shoulders, revealing the young figure and the slender waist. She might have been a child of seventeen, grieving over the death of her goldfinch.
Ashe gathered together his official letters and papers, found his check-book, and began to write. While he wrote he explained that Miss French could keep her company at least another fortnight, that he could leave with them four or five circular notes for immediate expenses, and would send more from home directly he arrived.
In the middle of his directions Kitty once more appealed to him in a passionate, muffled voice not to go. This time he lost his temper, and without answering her he hastily left the room to arrange his packing with his valet.
When he returned to the 沙龙 Kitty was not there. He and Miss French—who knew only that something tragic had happened in which Kitty was concerned—kept up a fragmentary conversation till dinner was announced and Kitty entered. She had evidently been weeping, but with powder and rouge she had tried to conceal the traces of her tears; and at dinner she sat silent, hardly answering when Margaret French spoke to her.
After dinner Ashe went out with his cigar towards the Piazza. He was in a smarting, dazed state, beginning, however, to realize the blow more than he had done at first. He believed that Parham himself would not be at all sorry to be rid of him. He and his friends formed a powerful group both in the cabinet and out of it. But they were forcing the pace, and the elements of resistance and reaction were strong. He pictured the dismay of his friends, the possible breakdown of the reforming party. Of course they might so stand by him—and the suppression of the book might be so complete—
At this moment he caught sight of a newspaper contents bill displayed at the door of the only shop in the Piazza which sold English newspapers. One of the lines ran, “Anonymous attack on the Premier.” He started, went in and bought the paper. There, in the “London Topics” column, was the following paragraph:
“A string of extracts from a forthcoming book, accompanied by a somewhat startling publisher’s statement, has lately been sent round to the press. We are asked not to print them before the day of publication, but they have already roused much attention, if not excitement. They certainly contain a very gross attack on the Prime Minister, based apparently on first-hand information, and involving indiscretions personal and political of an unusually serious character. The wife of a cabinet minister is freely named as the writer, and even if no violation of cabinet secrecy is concerned, it is clear that the book outrages the confidential relations which ought to subsist between a Premier and his colleagues, if government on our English system is to be satisfactorily carried on. The statements it makes with every appearance of authority both as to the relations between Lord Parham and some of the most important members of his cabinet, and as to the Premier’s intentions with regard to one or two of the most vital questions now before the country, are calculated seriously to embarrass the government. We fear the book will have a veritable Succèsde Scandale设立的区域办事处外,我们在美国也开设了办事处,以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“
“That fellow at least has done his best to kick the ball, damn him!” thought Ashe, with contempt, as he thrust the paper into his pocket.
It was no more than he expected; but it put an end to all thoughts of a more hopeful kind. He walked up and down the 广场 smoking, till midnight, counting the hours till he could reach London, and revolving the phrases of a telegram to be sent to his solicitor before starting.
Kitty made no sign or sound when he entered her room. Her fair head was turned away from him, and all was dark. He could hardly believe that she was asleep; but it was a relief to him to accept her pretence of it, and to escape all further conversation. He himself slept but little. The mere profundity of the Venetian silence teased him; it reminded him how far he was from home.
Two images pursued him—of Kitty writing the book, while he was away electioneering or toiling at his new office—and then, of his returns to Haggart—tired or triumphant—on many a winter evening, of her glad rush into his arms, her sparkling face on his breast.
Or again, he conjured up the scene when the MS. had been shown to Darrell—his pretence of disapproval, his sham warnings, and the smile on his sallow face as he walked off with it. Ashe looked back to the early days of his friendship with Darrell, when he, Ashe, was one of the leaders at Eton, popular with the masters in spite of his incorrigible idleness, and popular with the boys because of his bodily prowess, and Darrell had been a small, sickly, bullied colleger. Scene after scene recurred to him, from their later relations at Oxford also. There was a kind of deliberation in the way in which he forced his thoughts into this channel; it made an outlet for a fierce bitterness of spirit, which some imperious instinct forbade him to spend on Kitty.
He dozed in the later hours of the night, and was roused by something touching his hand, which lay outside the bedclothes. Again the little head!—and the soft curls. Kitty was there—crouched beside him—weeping. There flashed into his mind an image of the night in London when she had come to him thus; and unwelcome as the whole remembrance was, he was conscious of a sudden swelling wave of pity and passion. What if he sprang up, caught her in his arms, forgave her, and bade the world go hang!
No! The impulse passed, and in his turn he feigned sleep. The thought of her long deceit, of the selfish wilfulness wherewith she had requited deep love and easy trust, was too much; it seared his heart. And there was another and a subtler influence. To have forgiven so easily would have seemed treachery to those high ambitions and ideals from which—as he thought, only too certainly—she had now cut him off. It was part of his surviving youth that the catastrophe seemed to him so absolute. Any thought of the fresh efforts which would be necessary for the reconquering of his position was no less sickening to him than that of the immediate discomforts and humiliations to be undergone. He would go back to books and amusement; and in the idling of the future there would be plenty of time for love-making.
In the morning, when all preparations were made, the gondoliers waiting below, Ashe’s telegram sent, and the circular notes handed over to Margaret French, who had discreetly left the room, William approached his wife.
“Good-bye!” said Kitty, and gave him her hand, with a strange look and smile.
Ashe, however, drew her to him and kissed her—against her will. “I’ll do my best, Kitty,” he said, in a would-be cheery voice—”to pull us through. Perhaps—I don’t know!—things may turn out better than I think. Good-bye. Take care of yourself. I’ll write, of course. Don’t hurry home. You’ll want a fortnight or three weeks yet.”
Kitty said not a word, and in another minute he was gone. The Italian servants congregated below at the water-gate sent laughing “A rivederlas” after the handsome, good-tempered Englishman, whom they liked and regretted; the gondola moved off; Kitty heard the plash of the water. But she held back from the window.
Half-way to the bend of the canal beyond the Accademia, Ashe turned and gave a long look at the balcony. No one was there. But just as the gondola was passing out of sight, Kitty slipped onto the balcony. She could see only the figure of Piero, the gondolier, and in another second the boat was gone. She stayed there for many minutes, clinging to the balustrade and staring, as it seemed, at the sparkle of autumnal sun which danced on the green water and on the red palace to her right.
All the morning Kitty on her sofa pretended to write letters. Margaret French, working or reading behind her, knew that she scarcely got through a single note, that her pen lay idle on the paper, while her eyes absently watched the palace windows on the other side of the canal. Miss French was quite certain that some tragic cause of difference between the husband and wife had arisen. Kitty, the indiscreet, had for once kept her own counsel about the book, and Ashe had with his own hands packed away the volumes which had arrived the night before; so that she could only guess, and from that delicacy of feeling restrained her as much as possible.
Once or twice Kitty seemed on the point of unburdening herself. Then overmastering tears would threaten; she would break off and begin to write. At luncheon her look alarmed Miss French, so white was the little face, so large and restless the eyes. Ought Mr. Ashe to have left her, and left her apparently in anger? No doubt he thought her much better. But Margaret remembered the worst days of her illness, the anxious looks of the doctors, and the anguish that Kitty had suffered in the first weeks after her child’s death. She seemed now, indeed, to have forgotten little Harry, so far as outward expression went; but who could tell what was passing in her strange, unstable mind? And it often seemed to Margaret that the signs of the past summer were stamped on her indelibly, for those who had eyes to see.
Was it the perception of this pity beside her that drove Kitty to solitude and flight? At any rate, she said after luncheon that she would go to Madame d’Estrées, and did not ask Miss French to accompany her.
She set out accordingly with the two gondoliers. But she had hardly passed the Accademia before she bid her men take a cross-cut to the Giudecca. On these wide waters, with their fresher air and fuller sunshine, a certain physical comfort seemed to breathe upon her.
“Piero, it is not rough! Can we go to the Lido?” she asked the gondolier behind her.
Piero, who was all smiles and complaisance, as well he might be with a lady who scattered 里拉 as freely as Kitty did, turned the boat at once for that channel “Del Orfano” where the bones of the vanquished dead lie deep amid the ooze.
They passed San Giorgio, and were soon among the piles and sand-banks of the lagoon. Kitty sat in a dream which blotted the sunshine from the water. It seemed to her that she was a dead creature, floating in a dead world. William had ceased to love her. She had wrecked his career and destroyed her own happiness. Her child had been taken from her. Lady Tranmore’s affection had been long since alienated. Her own mother was nothing to her; and her friends in society, like Madeleine Alcot, would only laugh and gloat over the scandal of the book.
No—everything was finished! As her fingers hanging over the side of the gondola felt the touch of the water, her morbid fancy, incredibly quick and keen, fancied herself drowned, or poisoned—lying somehow white and cold on a bed where William might see and forgive her.
Then with a start of memory which brought the blood rushing to her face, she thought of Cliffe standing beside the door of the great hall in the Vercelli palace—she seemed to be looking again into those deep, expressive eyes, held by the irony and the passion with which they were infused. Had the passion any reference to her?—or was it merely part of the man’s nature, as inseparable from it as flame from the volcano? If William had cast her off, was there still one man—wild and bad, indeed, like herself, but poet and hero nevertheless—who loved her?
She did not much believe it; but still the possibility of it lured her, like some dark gulf that promised her oblivion from this pain—pain which tortured one so impatient of distress, so hungry for pleasure and praise.
In those days the Lido was still a noble and solitary shore, without the degradations of to-day.
Kitty walked fast and furiously across the sandy road, and over the shingles, turning, when she reached the firm sand, southward towards Malamocco. It was between four and five, and the autumn afternoon was fast declining. A fresh breeze was on the sea, and the short waves, intensely blue under a wide, clear heaven, broke in dazzling foam on the red-brown sand.
She seemed to be alone between sea and sky, save for two figures approaching from the south—a fisher-boy with a shrimping-net and a man walking bareheaded. She noticed them idly. A mirage of sun was between her and them, and the agony of remorse and despair which held her blunted all perceptions.
Thus it was that not till she was close upon him did her dazzled sight recognize Geoffrey Cliffe.
He saw her first, and stopped in motionless astonishment on the edge of the sand. She almost ran against him, when his voice arrested her.
“Lady Kitty!”
She put her hand to her breast, wavered, and came to a stand-still. He saw a little figure in black between him and those “gorgeous towers and cloud-capped palaces” of Alpine snow, which dimly closed in the north; and beneath the drooping hat a face even more changed and tragic than that which had haunted him since their meeting of the day before.
“How do you do?” she said, mechanically, and would have passed him. But he stood in her path. As he stared at her an impulse of rage ran through him, resenting the wreck of anything so beautiful—rage against Ashe, who must surely be somehow responsible.
“Aren’t you wandering too far, Lady Kitty?” His voice shook under the restraint he put upon it. “You seem tired—very tired—and you are perhaps farther from your gondola than you think.”
“我不累。”
他犹豫了。
“Might I walk with you a little, or do you forbid me?”
She said nothing, but walked on. He turned and accompanied her. One or two questions that he put to her—Had she companions?—Where had she left her gondola?—remained unanswered. He studied her face, and at last he laid a strong hand upon her arm.
“Sit down. You are not fit for any more walking.”
He drew her towards some logs of driftwood on the upper sand, and she sank down upon them. He found a place beside her.
“What is the matter with you?” he said, abruptly, with a harsh authority. “You are in trouble.”
A tremor shook her—as of the prisoner who feels on his limbs the first touch of the fetter.
“No, no!” she said, trying to rise; “it is nothing. I—I didn’t know it was so far. I must go home.”
His hand held her.
“猫咪!”
“Yes.” Her voice was scarcely audible.
“Tell me what hurts you! Tell me why you are here, alone, with a face like that! Don’t be afraid of me! Could I lift a finger to harm a mother that has lost her child? Give me your hands.” He gathered both hers into the warm shelter of his own. “Look at me—trust me! My heart has grown, Kitty, since you knew me last. It has taken into itself so many griefs—so many deaths. Tell me your griefs, poor child!—tell me!”
He stooped and kissed her hands—most tenderly, most gravely.
Tears rushed into her eyes. The wild emotions that were her being were roused beyond control. Bending towards him she began to pour out, first brokenly, then in a torrent, the wretched, incoherent story, of which the mere telling, in such an ear, meant new treachery to William and new ruin for herself.
On a certain cloudy afternoon, some ten days later, a fishing-boat, with a patched orange sail, might have been seen scudding under a light northwesterly breeze through the channels which connect the island of San Francesco with the more easterly stretches of the Venetian lagoon. The boat presently neared the shore of one of the cultivated 力敌—islands formed out of the silt of many rivers by the travail of centuries, some of them still mere sand or mud banks, others covered by vineyards and fruit orchards—which, with the murazzi or sea-walls of Venice, stand sentinel between the city and the sea. On the 阅读 along which the boat was coasting, the vintage was long since over and the fruit gathered; the last yellow and purple leaves in the orchards, “a pestilent-stricken multitude,” were to-day falling fast to earth, under the sighing, importunate wind. The air was warm; November was at its mildest. But all color and light were drowned in floating mists, and darkness lay over the distant city. It was one of those drear and ghostly days which may well have breathed into the soul of Shelley that superb vision of the dead generations of Venice, rising, a phantom host from the bosom of the sunset, and sweeping in “a rapid mask of death” over the shadowed waters that saw the birth and may yet furnish the tomb of so vast a fame.
Two persons were in the boat—Kitty, wrapped in sables, her straying hair held close by a cap of the same fur—and Geoffrey Cliffe. They had been wandering in the lagoons all day, in order to escape from Venice and observers—first at Torcello, then at San Francesco, and now they were ostensibly coming home in a wide sweep along the northern 力敌 和 murazzi, that Cliffe might show his companion, from near by, the Porto del Lido, that exit from the lagoons where the salt lakes grow into the sea.
A certain wildness and exaltation, drawn from the solitudes around them and from their 座谈沟通,特特, could be read in both the man and the woman. Cliffe watched his companion incessantly. As he lay against the side of the boat at her feet, he saw her framed in the curving sides of the stern, and could read her changing expressions. Not a happy face!—that he knew! A face haunted by shadows from an underworld of thought—pursuing furies of remorse and fear. Not the less did he triumph that he had it 那里, in his power; nor had the flashes of terror and wavering will which he discerned in any way diminished its beauty.
“How long have you known—that woman?” Kitty asked him, suddenly, after a pause broken only by the playing of the wind with the sail.
Cliffe laughed.
“The Ricci? Why do you want to know, madame?”
She made a contemptuous lip.
“I knew her first,” said Cliffe, “some years ago in Milan. She was then at La Scala—walking on—paid for her good looks. Then somebody sent her to Paris to the Conservatoire, which she only left this spring. This is her first Italian engagement. Her people are shopkeepers here—in the Merceria—which helped her. She is as vain as a peacock and as dangerous as a pet panther.”
“Dangerous!” Kitty’s scorn had passed into her voice.
“Well, Italy is still the country of the knife,” said Cliffe, lightly—”and I could still hire a bravo or two—in Venice—if I wanted them.”
“Does the Ricci hire them?”
Cliffe shrugged his shoulders.
“She’d do it without winking, if it suited her.” Then, after a pause—”Do you still wonder why I should have chosen her society?”
“Oh no,” said Kitty, hastily. “You told me.”
“As much as a 朋友 cares to know?”
She nodded, flushing, and dropped the subject.
Cliffe’s mouth still smiled, but his eyes studied her with a veiled and sinister intensity.
“I have not seen the lady for a week,” he resumed. “She pesters me with notes. I promised to go and see her in a new play to-morrow night, but—”
“Oh, go!” said Kitty—”by all means go!”
“‘Ruy Blas’ in Italian? I think not. Ah! did you see that gleam on the Campanile?—marvellous!… Miladi, I have a question to ask you.”
“Dites!” said Kitty.
“Did you put me into your book?”
“当然。”
“What kind of things did you say?”
“The worst I could!”
“Ah! How shall I get a copy?” said Cliffe, musing.
She made no answer, but she was conscious of a sudden movement—was it of terror? At the bottom of her soul was she, indeed, afraid of the man beside her?
“By-the-way,” he resumed, “you promised to tell me your news of this morning. But you haven’t told me a word!”
She turned away. She had gathered her furs around her, and her face was almost hidden by them.
“Nothing is settled,” she said, in a cold, reluctant voice.
“Which means that you won’t tell me anything more?”
She was silent. Her lip had a proud line which piqued him.
“You think I am not worthy to know?”
Her eye gleamed.
“What does it matter to you?”
“Oh, nothing! I should have been glad to hear that all was well, and Ashe’s mind at rest about his prospects.”
“His prospects!” she repeated, with a scorn which stung. “How 给 we mention his name here at all?”
Cliffe reddened.
“I dare,” he said, calmly.
Kitty looked at him—a quivering defiance in face and frame; then bent forward.
“Would you like to know—who is the best—the noblest—the handsomest—the most generous—the most delightful man I have ever met?”
Each word came out winged and charged with a strange intensity of passion.
“Do I?” said Cliffe, raising his eyebrows—”do I want to know?”
Her look held him.
“My husband, William Ashe!”
And she fell back, flushed and breathless, like one who throws out a rebel and challenging flag.
Cliffe was silent a moment, observing her.
“Strange!” he said, at last. “It is only when you are miserable you are kind. I could wish you miserable again, 亲爱的设立的区域办事处外,我们在美国也开设了办事处,以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“
Tone and look broke into a sombre wildness before which she shrank. Her own violence passed away. She leaned over the side of the boat, struggling with tears.
“Then you have your wish,” was her muffled answer.
The three bronzed Venetians, a father and two sons, who were working the bragozzo glanced curiously at the pair. They were persuaded that these charterers of their boat were lovers flying from observation, and the unknown tongue did but stimulate guessing.
Cliffe raised himself impatiently.
They were nearing a point where the line of murazzi they had been following—low breakwaters of great strength—swept away from them outward and eastward towards a distant opening. On the other side of the channel was a low line of shore, broadening into the Lido proper, with its scattered houses and churches, and soon lost in the mist as it stretched towards the south.
“Ecco!—il Porto del Lido!” said the older boatman, pointing far away to a line of deeper color beneath a dark and lowering sky.
Kitty bent over the side of the boat staring towards the dim spot he showed her—where was the mouth of the sea.
“Kitty!” said Cliffe’s voice beside her, hoarse and hurried—”one word, and I tell these fellows to set their helm for Trieste. This boat will carry us well—and the wind is with us.”
She turned and looked him in the face.
“然后?”
“Then? We’ll think it out together, Kitty—together!” He bent his lips to her hand, bending so as to conceal the action from the sailors. But she drew her hand away.
“You and I,” she said, fiercely—”would tire of each other in a week!”
“Have the courage to try! No!—you should not tire of me in a week! I would find ways to keep you mine, Kitty—cradled, and comforted, and happy.”
“Happy!” Her slight laugh was the forlornest thing. “Take me out to sea—and drop me there—with a stone round my neck. That might be worth doing—perhaps.”
He surveyed her unmoved.
“Listen, Kitty! This kind of thing can’t go on forever.”
“What are you waiting for?” she said, tauntingly. “You ought to have gone last week.”
“I am not going,” he said, raising himself by a sudden movement—”till you come with me!”
Kitty started, her eyes riveted to his.
“And yet go I will! Not even you shall stop me, Kitty. I’ll take the help I’ve gathered back to those poor devils—if I die for it. But you’ll come with me—you’ll come!”
She drew back—trembling under an impression she strove to conceal.
“If you will talk such madness, I can’t help it,” she said, with shortened breath.
“Yes—you’ll come!” he said, nodding. “What have you to do with Ashe, Kitty, any longer? You and he are already divided. You have tried life together and what have you made of it? You’re not fit for this mincing, tripping London life—nor am I? And as for morals—- I’ll tell you a strange thing, Kitty.” He bent forward and grasped her hands with a force which hurt—from which she could not release herself. “I believe—yes, by God, I believe!—that I am a better man than I was before I started on this adventure. It’s been like drinking at last at the very source of life—living, not talking about it. One bitter night last February, for instance, I helped a man—one of the insurgents—who had taken to the mountains with his wife and children—to carry his wife, a dying woman, over a mountain-pass to the only place where she could possibly get help and shelter. We carried her on a litter, six men taking turns. The cold and the fatigue were such that I shudder now when I think of it. Yet at the end I seemed to myself a man reborn. I was happier than I had ever been in my life. Some mystic virtue had flowed into me. Among those men and women, instead of being the selfish beast I’ve been all these years, I can forget myself. Death seems nothing—brotherhood—liberty!—everything! And yet—”
His face relaxed, became ironical, reflective. But he held the hands close, his grasp of them hidden by the folds of fur which hung about her.
“和 但—I can say to you without a qualm—put this marriage which has already come to naught behind you—and come with me! Ashe cramps you. He blames you—you blame yourself. What 现实 has all that? It makes you miserable—it wastes life. I accept your nature—I don’t ask you to be anything else than yourself—your wild, vain, adorable self! Ashe asks you to put restraint on yourself—to make painful efforts—to be good for his sake—the sake of something outside. I say—come and look at the elemental things—death and battle—hatred, solitude, love. 他们会 sweep us out of ourselves!—no need to strive and cry for it—into the great current of the world’s being—bring us close to the forces at the root of things—the forces which create—and destroy. Dip your heart in that stream, Kitty, and feel it grow in your breast. Take a nurse’s dress—put your hand in mine—and come! I can’t promise you luxuries or ease. You’ve had enough of those. Come and open another door in the House of Life! Take starving women and hunted children into your arms—- feel with them—weep with them—look with them into the face of death! Make friends with nature—with rocks, forests, torrents—with night and dawn, which you’ve never seen, Kitty! They’ll love you—they’ll support you—the rough people—and the dark forests. They’ll draw nature’s glamour round you—they’ll pour her balm into your soul. And I shall be with you—beside you!—your guardian—your lover—your 情人, Kitty—till death do us part.”
He looked at her with the smile which was his only but sufficient beauty; the violent, exciting words flowed in her ear, amid the sound of rising waves and the distant talk of the fishermen. His hand crushed hers; his mad, imploring eyes repelled and constrained her. The wild hungers and curiosities of her being rushed to meet him; she heard the echo of her own words to Ashe: “More life—more 生活!—even though it lead to pain—and agony—and tears!”
Then she wrenched herself away—suddenly, contemptuously.
“Of course, that’s all nonsense—romantic nonsense. You’ve perhaps forgotten that I am one of the women who don’t stir without their maid.”
Cliffe’s expression changed. He thrust his hands into his pockets.
“Oh, well, if you must have a maid,” he said, dryly, “that settles it. A maid would be the deuce. And yet—I think I could find you a Bosnian girl—strong and faithful—”
Their eyes met—his already full of a kind of ownership, tender, confident, humorous even—hers alive with passionate anger and resistance.
“Without a qualm!” she repeated, in a low voice—”without a qualm! Mon Dieu!”
She turned and looked towards the Adriatic.
“Where are we?” she said, imperiously.
For a gesture of command on Cliffe’s part, unseen by her, had sent the boat eastward, spinning before the wind. The lagoon was no longer tranquil. It was covered with small waves; and the roar of the outer sea, though still far off, was already in their ears. The mist lifting showed white, distant crests of foam on a tumbling field of water, and to the north, clothed in tempestuous purple, the dim shapes of mountains.
Kitty raised herself, and beckoned towards the captain of the bragozzo.
“Giuseppe!”
“Commanda, Eccellenza!”
男人上前。
With a voice sharp and clear, she gave the order to return at once to Venice. Cliffe watched her, the veins on his forehead swelling. She knew that he debated with himself whether he should give a counter-order or no.
“A Venezia!” said Kitty, waving her hand towards the sailors, her eyes shining under the tangle of her hair.
The helm was put round, and beneath a tacking sail the boat swept southward.
With an awkward laugh Cliffe fell back into his seat, stretching his long limbs across the boat. He had spoken under a strong and genuine impulse. His passion for her had made enormous strides in these few wild days beside her. And yet the fantastic poet’s sense responded at a touch to the new impression. He shook off the heroic mood as he had doffed his Bosnian cloak. In a few minutes, though the heightened color remained, he was chatting and laughing as though nothing had happened.
She, exhausted physically and morally by her conflict with him, hardly spoke on the way home. He entertained her, watching her all the time—a hundred speculations about her passing through his brain. He understood perfectly how the insight which she had allowed him into her grief and her remorse had broken down the barriers between them. Her incapacity for silence, and reticence, had undone her. Was he a villain to have taken advantage of it?
Why? With a strange, half-cynical clearness he saw her, as the obstacle that she was, in Ashe’s life and career. For Ashe—supposing he, Cliffe, persuaded her—there would be no doubt a first shock of wrath and pain—then a sense of deliverance. For her, too, deliverance! It excited his artist’s sense to think of all the further developments through which he might carry that eager, plastic nature. There would be a new Kitty, with new capacities and powers. Wasn’t that justification enough? He felt himself a sculptor in the very substance of life, moulding a living creature afresh, disengaging it from harsh and hindering conditions. What was there vile in that?
The argument pursued itself.
“The modern judges for himself—makes his own laws, as a god, knowing good and evil. No doubt in time a new social law will emerge—with new sanctions. Meanwhile, here we are, in a moment of transition, manufacturing new types, exploring new combinations—by which let those who come after profit!”
Little delicate, distinguished thing!—every aspect of her, angry or sweet, sad or wilful, delighted his taste and sense. Moreover, she was 他的 deliverance, too—from an ugly and vulgar entanglement of which he was ashamed. He shrank impatiently from memories which every now and then pursued him of the Ricci’s coarse beauty and exacting ways. Kitty had just appeared in time! He felt himself rehabilitated in his own eyes. Love may trifle as it pleases with what people call “law”; but there are certain æsthetic limits not to be transgressed.
The Ricci, of course, was wild and thirsting for revenge. Let her! Anxieties far more pressing disturbed him. What if he tempted Kitty to this escapade—and the rough life killed her? He saw clearly how frail she was.
But it was the artificiality of her life, the innumerable burdens of civilization, which had brought her to this! Women were not the weaklings they seemed, or believed themselves to be. For many of them, probably for Kitty, a rude and simple life would mean not only fresh mental but fresh physical strength. He had seen what women could endure, for love’s or patriotism’s sake! Make but appeal to the spirit—the proud and tameless spirit—and how the flesh answered! He knew that his power with Kitty came largely from a certain stoicism, a certain hardness, mingled, as he would prove to her, with a boundless devotion. Let him carry it through—without fears—and so enlarge her being and his own! And as to responsibilities beyond, as to their later lives—let time take care of its own births. For the modern determinist of Cliffe’s type there is no responsibility. He waits on life, following where it leads, rejoicing in each new feeling, each fresh reaction of consciousness on experience, and so links his fatalist belief to that Nietzsche doctrine of self-development at all costs, and the coming man, in which Cliffe’s thought anticipated the years.
Kitty meanwhile listened to his intermittent talk of Venice, or Bosnia, with all its suggestions of new worlds and far horizons, and scarcely said a word.
But through the background of the brain there floated with her, as with him, a procession of unspoken thoughts. She had received three letters from William. Immediately on his arrival he had tendered his resignation. Lord Parham had asked him to suspend the matter for ten days. Only the pressure of his friends, it seemed, and the consternation of his party had wrung from Ashe a reluctant consent. Meanwhile, all copies of the book had been bought up; the important newspapers had readily lent themselves to the suppression of the affair; private wraths had been dealt with by conciliatory lawyers; and in general a far more complete hushing-up had been attained than Ashe had ever imagined possible. There was no doubt infinite gossip in the country-houses. But sympathy for Kitty in her grief, for Ashe himself, and Lady Tranmore, had done much to keep it within bounds. The little Dean especially, beloved of all the world, had been incessantly active on behalf of peace and oblivion.
All this Kitty read or guessed from William’s letters. After all, then, the harm had not been so great! Why such a panic!—such a hurry to leave her!—when she was ill—and sorry? And now how curtly, how measuredly he wrote! Behind the hopefulness of his tone she read the humiliation and soreness of his mind—and said to herself, with a more headlong conviction than ever, that he would never forgive her.
没有, 决不!—and especially now that she had added a thousandfold to the original offence. She had never written to him since his departure. Margaret French, too, was angry with her—had almost broken with her.
They left their boat on the Riva, and walked to the 广场, through the now starry dusk. As they passed the great door of St. Mark’s, two persons came out of the church. Kitty recognized Mary Lyster and Sir Richard. She bowed slightly; Sir Richard put his hand to his hat in a flurried way; but Mary, looking them both in the face, passed without the smallest sign, unless the scorn in face and bearing might pass for recognition.
Kitty gasped.
“She cut me!” she said, in a shaking voice.
“Oh no!” said Cliffe. “She didn’t see you in the dark.”
Kitty made no reply. She hurried along the northern side of the Piazza, avoiding the groups which were gathered in the sunset light round the flocks of feeding pigeons, brushing past the tables in front of the cafe’s, still well filled on this mild evening.
“Take care!” said Cliffe, suddenly, in a low, imperative voice.
Kitty looked up. In her abstraction she saw that she had nearly come into collision with a woman sitting at a café table and surrounded by a noisy group of men.
With a painful start Kitty perceived the mocking eyes of Mademoiselle Ricci. The Ricci said something in Italian, staring the while at the English lady; and the men near her laughed, some furtively, some loudly.
Cliffe’s face set. “Walk quickly!” he said in her ear, hurrying her past.
When they had reached one of the narrow streets behind the Piazza, Kitty looked at him—white and haughtily tremulous. “What did that mean?”
“Why should you deign to ask?” was Cliffe’s impatient reply. “I have ceased to go and see her. I suppose she guesses why.”
“I will have no rivalry with Mademoiselle Ricci!” cried Kitty.
“You can’t help it,” said Cliffe, calmly. “The powers of light are always in rivalry with the powers of darkness.”
And without further pleading or excuse he stalked on, his gaunt form and striking head towering above the crowded pavement. Kitty followed him with difficulty, conscious of a magnetism and a force against which she struggled in vain.
About a week afterwards Kitty shut herself up one evening in her room to write to Ashe. She had just passed through an agitating conversation with Margaret French, who had announced her intention of returning to England at once, alone, if Kitty would not accompany her. Kitty’s hands were trembling as she began to write.
“I am glad—oh! so glad, William—that you 已可以选用 withdrawn your resignation—that people have come forward so splendidly, and 制成 you withdraw it—that Lord Parham is behaving decently—and that you have been able to get hold of all those copies of the book. I always hoped it would not be quite so bad as you thought. But I know you must have gone through an awful time—and I’m 遗憾.
“William, I want to tell you something—for I can’t go on lying to you—or even just hiding the truth. I met Geoffrey Cliffe here—before you left—and I never told you. I saw him first in a gondola the night of the serenata—and then at the Armenian convent. Do you remember my hurrying you and Margaret into the garden? That was to escape meeting him. And that same afternoon when I was in the unused rooms of the Palazzo Vercelli—the rooms they show to tourists—he suddenly appeared—and somehow I spoke to him, though I had never meant to do so again.
“Then when you left me I met him again—that afternoon—and he found out I was very miserable and made me tell him everything. I know I had no right to do so—they were your secrets as well as mine. But you know how little I can control myself—it’s wretched, but it’s true.
“William, I don’t know what will happen. I can’t make out from Margaret whether she has written to you or not—she won’t tell me. If she has, this letter will not be much news to you. But, mind, I write it of my own free will, and not because Margaret may have forced my hand. I should have written it anyway. Poor old darling!—she thinks me mad and bad, and to-night she tells me she can’t take the responsibility of looking after me any longer. Women like her can never understand creatures like me—and I don’t want her to. She’s a dear saint, and as true as steel—not like your Mary Lysters! I could go on my knees to her. But she can’t control or save me. Not even you could, William. You’ve tried your best, and in spite of you I’m going to perdition, and I can’t stop myself.
“For, William, there’s something broken forever between you and me. I know it was I who did the wrong, and that you had no choice but to leave me when you did. But yet you 做了 leave me, though I implored you not. And I know very well that you don’t love me as you used to—why should you?—and that you never can love me in the same way again. Every letter you write tells me that. And though I have deserved it all, I can’t bear it. When I think of coming home to England, and how you would try to be nice to me—how good and dear and magnanimous you would be, and what a beast I should feel—I want to drown myself and have done.
“It all seems to me so hopeless. It is my own nature—- the stuff out of which I am cut—that’s all wrong. I may promise my breath away that I will be discreet and gentle and well behaved, that I’ll behave properly to people like Lady Parham, that I’ll keep secrets, and not make absurd friendships with absurd people, that I’ll try and keep out of debt, and so on. But what’s the use? It’s the 将 in me—the something that drives, or ought to drive—that won’t work. And nobody ever taught me or showed me, that I can remember, till I met you. In Paris at the Place Vendôme, half the time I used to live with maman and papa, be hideously spoiled, dressed absurdly, eat off silver plate, and make myself sick with rich things—and then for days together maman would go out or away, forget all about me, and I used to storm the kitchen for food. She either neglected me or made a show of me; she was my worst enemy, and I hated and fought her—till I went to the convent at ten. When I was fourteen maman asked a doctor about me. He said I should probably go mad—and at the convent they thought the same. Maman used to throw this at me when she was cross with me.
“Well, I don’t repeat this to make you excuse me and think better of me—- it’s all too late for that—but because I am such a puzzle to myself, and I try to explain things. I 做了 love you, William—I believe I do still—but when I think of our living together again, my arms drop by my side and I feel like a dead creature. Your life is too great a thing for me. Why should I spoil or hamper it? If you loved me, as you did once—if you still thought 一切 worth while, then, if I had a spark of decency left, I might kill myself to free you, but I should never do—what I may do now. But, William, you’ll forget me soon. You’ll pass great laws, and make great speeches, and the years when I tormented you—and all my wretched ways—will seem such a small, small thing.
“Geoffrey says he loves me. And I think he does, though how long it will last, or may be worth, no one can tell. As for me, I don’t know whether I love him. I have no illusion about him. But there are moments when he absolutely holds me—when my will is like wax in his hands. It is because, I think, of a certain grandness—富丽堂皇 seems too strong—in his character. It was always there; because no one could write such poems as his without it. But now it’s more marked, though I don’t know that it makes him a better man. He thinks it does; but we all deceive ourselves. At any rate, he is often superb, and I feel that I could die, if not for him, at least with him. And he is not unlikely to die in some heroic way. He went out as you know simply as correspondent and to distribute relief, but lately he has been fighting for these people—of course he has!—and when he goes back he is to be one of their regular leaders. When he talks of it he is noble, transformed. It reminds me of Byron—his wicked life here—and then his death at Missolonghi. Geoffrey can do such base, cruel things—and yet—
“But I haven’t yet told you. He asks me to go with him, back to the fighting-lines in upper Bosnia. There seems to be a great deal that women can do. I shall wear a nurse’s uniform, and probably nurse at a little hospital he founded—high up in one of the mountain valleys. I know this will almost make you laugh. You will think of me, not knowing how to put on a button without Blanche—and wanting to be waited on every moment. But you’ll see; there’ll be nothing of that sort. I wonder whether it’s hardship I’ve been thirsting for all my life—even when I seemed such a selfish, luxurious little ape?
“At the same time, I think it will kill me—and that would be the best end of all. To have some great, heroic experience, and then—’cease upon the midnight with no pain!…’
“Oh, if I thought you’d care very, 非常 much, I should have pain—horrible pain. But I know you won’t. Politics have taken my place. Think of me sometimes, as I was when we were first married—and of Harry—my little, little fellow!
“—Maman and I have had a ghastly scene. She came to scold me for my behavior—to say I was the talk of Venice. She! Of course I know what she means. She thinks if I am divorced she will lose her allowance—and she can’t bear the thought of that, though Markham Warington is quite rich. My heart just 煮沸 within me. I told her it is the poison of her life that works in me, and that whatever I do, 她 has no right to reproach me. Then she cried—and I was like ice—and at last she went. Warington, good fellow, has written to me, and asked to see me. But what is the use?
“I know you’ll leave me the £500 a year that was settled on me. It’ll be so good for me to be poor—and dressed in serge—and trying to do something else with these useless hands than writing books that break your heart. I am giving away all my smart clothes. Blanche is going home. Oh, William, William! I’m going to shut this, and it’s like the good-bye of death—a mean and ugly—死亡.
“… Later. They have just brought me a note from Danieli’s. So Margaret did write to you, and your mother has come. Why did you send her, William? She doesn’t love me—and I shall only stab and hurt her. Though I’ll try not—for your sake.”
Two days later Ashe received almost by the same post which brought him the letter from Kitty, just quoted, the following letter from his mother:
“My DEAREST WILLIAM,—I have seen Kitty. With some difficulty she consented to let me go and see her yesterday evening about nine o’clock.
“I arrived between six and seven, having travelled straight through without a break, except for an hour or two at Milan, and immediately on arriving I sent a note to Margaret French. She came in great distress, having just had a fresh scene with Kitty. Oh, my dear William, her report could not well be worse. Since she wrote to us Kitty seems to have thrown over all precautions. They used to meet in churches or galleries, and go out for long days in the gondola or a fishing-boat together, and Kitty would come home alone and lie on the sofa through the evening, almost without speaking or moving. But lately he comes in with her, and stays hours, reading to her, or holding her hand, or talking to her in a low voice, and Margaret cannot stop it.
“Yet she has done her best, poor girl! Knowing what we all knew last year, it filled her with terror when she first discovered that he was in Venice and that they had met. But it was not till it had gone on about a week, with the strangest results on Kitty’s spirits and nerves, that she felt she must interfere. She not only spoke to Kitty, but she spoke and wrote to him in a very firm, dignified way. Kitty took no notice—only became very silent and secretive. And he treated poor Margaret with a kind of courteous irony which made her blood boil, and against which she could do nothing. She says that Kitty seems to her sometimes like a person moving in sleep—only half conscious of what she is doing; and at others she is wildly excitable, irritable with everybody, and only calming down and becoming reasonable when this man appears.
“There is much talk in Venice. They seem to have been seen together by various London friends who knew—about the difficulties last year. And then, of course, everybody is aware that you are not here—and the whole story of the book goes from mouth to mouth—and people say that a separation has been arranged—and so on. These are the kind of rumors that Margaret hears, especially from Mary Lyster, who is staying in this hotel with her father, and seems to have a good many friends here.
“Dearest William—I have been lingering on these things because it is so hard to have to tell you what passed between me and Kitty. Oh! my dear, dear son, take courage. Even now everything is not lost. Her conscience may awaken at the last moment; this bad man may abandon his pursuit of her; I may still succeed in bringing her back to you. But I am in terrible fear—and I must tell you the whole truth.
“Kitty received me alone. The room was very dark—only one lamp that gave a bad light—so that I saw her very indistinctly. She was in black, and, as far as I could see, extremely pale and weary. And what struck me painfully was her haggard, careless look. All the little details of her dress and hair seemed so neglected. Blanche says she is far too irritable and impatient in the mornings to let her hair be done as usual. She just rolls it into one big knot herself and puts a comb in it. She wears the simplest clothes, and changes as little as possible. She says she is soon going to have done with all that kind of thing, and she must get used to it. My own impression is that she is going through great agony of mind—above all, that she is ill—ill in body and soul.
“She told me quite calmly, however, that she had made up her mind to leave you; she said that she had written to you to tell you so. I asked her if it was because she had ceased to love you. After a pause she said ‘No.’ Was it because some one else had come between you? She threw up her head proudly, and said it was best to be quite plain and frank. She had met Geoffrey Cliffe again, and she meant henceforward to share his life. Then she went into the wildest dreams about going back with him to the Balkans, and nursing in a hospital, and dying—she hopes!—of hard work and privations. And all this in a torrent of words—and her eyes blazing, with that look in them as though she saw nothing but the scenes of her own imagination. She talked of devotion—and of forgetting herself in other people. I could only tell her, of course, that all this sounded to me the most grotesque sophistry and perversion. She was forgetting her first duty, breaking her marriage vow, and tearing your life asunder. She shook her head, and said you would soon forget her. ‘If he had loved me he would never have left me!’ she said, again and again, with a passion I shall never forget.
“Of course that made me very angry, and I described what the situation had been when you reached London—Lord Parham’s state of mind—and the consternation caused everywhere by the wretched book. I tried to make her understand what there was at stake—the hopes of all who follow you in the House and the country—the great reforms of which you are the life and soul—your personal and political honor. I impressed on her the endless trouble and correspondence in which you had been involved—and how meanwhile all your Home Office and cabinet work had to be carried on as usual, till it was decided whether your resignation should be withdrawn or no. She listened with her head on her hands. I think with regard to the book she is most genuinely ashamed and miserable. And yet all the time there is this unreasonable, this monstrous feeling that you should not have left her!
“As to the scandalous references to private persons, she said that Madeleine Alcot had written to her about the country-house gossip. That wretched being, Mr. Darrell, seems also to have written to her, trying to save himself through her. And the only time I saw her laugh was when she spoke of having had a furious letter from Lady Grosville about the references to Grosville Park. It was like the laugh of a mischievous, unhappy child.
“Then we came back to the main matter, and I implored her to let me take her home. First I gave her your letter. She read it, flushed up, and threw it away from her. ‘He commands me!’ she said, fiercely. ‘But I am no one’s chattel.’ I replied that you had only summoned her back to her duty and her home, and I asked her if she could really mean to repay your unfailing love by bringing anguish and dishonor upon you? She sat dumb, and her stubbornness moved me so that I fear I lost my self-control and said more, much more—in denunciation of her conduct—than I had meant to do. She heard me out, and then she got up and looked at me very bitterly and strangely. I had never loved her, she said, and so I could not judge her. Always from the beginning I had thought her unfit to be your wife, and she had known it, and my dislike of her, especially during the past year, had made her hard and reckless. It had seemed no use trying. I just wanted her dead, that you might marry a wife who would be a help and not a stumbling-block. Well, I should have my wish, for she would soon be as good as dead, both to you and to me.
“All this hurt me deeply, and I could not restrain myself from crying. I felt so helpless, and so doubtful whether I had not done more harm than good. Then she softened a little, and asked me to let her go to bed—she would think it all over and write to me in the morning….
“So, my dear William, I can only pray and wait. I am afraid there is but little hope, but God is merciful and strong. He may yet save us all.
“But whatever happens, remember that you have nothing to reproach yourself with—that you have done all that man could do. I should telegraph to you in the morning to say, ‘Come, at all hazards,’ but that I feel sure all will be settled to-morrow one way or the other. Either Kitty will start with me—or she will go with Geoffrey Cliffe. You could do nothing—absolutely nothing. God help us! She seems to have some money, and she told me that she counted on retaining her jointure.”
On the night following her interview with Lady Tranmore, Kitty went from one restless, tormented dream into another, but towards morning she fell into one of a different kind. She dreamed she was in a country of great mountains. The peaks were snow-crowned, vast glaciers filled the chasms on their flanks, forests of pines clothed the lower sides of the hills, and the fields below were full of spring flowers. She saw a little Alpine village, and a church with an old and slender campanile. A plain stone building stood by—it seemed to be an inn of the old-fashioned sort—and she entered it. The dinner-table was ready in the low-roofed Salle-à-Manger, and as she sat down to eat she saw that two other guests were at the same table. She glanced at them, and perceived that one was William and the other her child, Harry, grown older—and transfigured. Instead of the dull and clouded look which had wrung her heart in the old days, against which she had striven, patiently and impatiently, in vain, the blue eyes were alive with mind and affection. It was as if the child beheld his mother for the first time and she him. As he recognized her he gave a cry of joy, waving one hand towards her while with the other he touched his father on the arm. William raised his head. But when he saw his wife his face changed. He rose from his seat, and drawing the little boy into his arms he walked away. Kitty saw them disappear into a long passage, indeterminate and dark. The child’s face over his father’s shoulder was turned in longing towards his mother, and as he was carried away he stretched out his little hands to her in lamentation.
Kitty woke up bathed in tears. She sprang out of bed and threw the window nearest to her open to the night. The winter night was mild, and a full moon sailed the southern sky. Not a sound on the water, not a light in the palaces; a city of ebony and silver, Venice slept in the moonlight. Kitty gathered a cloak and some shawls round her, and sank into a low chair, still crying and half conscious. At his inn, some few hundred yards away, between her and the Piazzetta, was Geoffrey Cliffe waking too?—making his last preparations? She knew that all his stores were ready, and that he proposed to ship them and the twenty young fellows, Italians and Dalmatians, who were going with him to join the insurgents, that morning, by a boat leaving for Cattaro. He himself was to follow twenty-four hours later, and it was his firm and confident expectation that Kitty would go with him—passing as his wife. And, indeed, Kitty’s own arrangements were almost complete, her money in her purse, the clothes she meant to take with her packed in one small trunk, some of the Tranmore jewels which she had been recently wearing ready to be returned on the morrow to Lady Tranmore’s keeping, other jewels, which she regarded as her own, together with the remainder of her clothes, put aside, in order to be left in the custody of the landlord of the apartment till Kitty should claim them again.
One more day—which would probably see the departure of Margaret French—one more wrestle with Lady Tranmore, and all the links with the old life would be torn away. A bare, stripped soul, dependent henceforth on Geoffrey Cliffe for every crumb of happiness, treading in unknown paths, suffering unknown things, probing unknown passions and excitements—it was so she saw herself; not without that corroding double consciousness of the modern, that it was all very interesting, and as such to be forgiven and admired.
Notwithstanding what she had said to Ashe, she did believe—with a clinging and desperate faith—that Cliffe loved her. Had she really doubted it, her conduct would have been inexplicable, even to herself, and he must have seemed a madman. What else could have induced him to burden himself with a woman on such an errand and at such a time? She had promised, indeed, to be his lieutenant and comrade—and to return to Venice if her health should be unequal to the common task. But in spite of the sternness with which he put that task first—a sternness which was one of his chief attractions for Kitty—she knew well that her coming threw a glamour round it which it had never yet possessed, that the passion she had aroused in him, and the triumph of binding her to his fate, possessed him—for the moment at any rate—heart and soul. He had the poet’s resources, too, and a mind wherewith to organize and govern. She shrank from him still, but she already envisaged the time when her being would sink into and fuse with his, and like two colliding stars they would flame together to one fiery death.
Thoughts like these ran in her mind. Yet all the time she saw the high mountains of her dream, the old inn, the receding face of her child on William’s shoulder; and the tears ran down her cheeks. The letter from William that Lady Tranmore had given her lay on a table near. She took it up, and lit a candle to read it.
“Kitty—I bid you come home. I should have started for Venice an hour ago, after reading Miss French’s letter, but that honor and public duty keep me here. But mother is going, and I implore and command you, as your husband, to return with her. Oh, Kitty, have I ever failed you?—have I ever been hard with you?—that you should betray our love like this? Was I hard when we parted—a month ago? If I was, forgive me, I was sore pressed. Come home, you poor child, and you shall hear no reproaches from me. I think I have nearly succeeded in undoing your rash work. But what good will that be to me if you are to use my absence for that purpose to bring us both to ruin? Kitty, the grass is not yet green on our child’s grave. I was at Haggart last Sunday, and I went over in the dusk to put some flowers upon it. I thought of you without a moment’s bitterness, and prayed for us both, if such as I may pray. Then next morning came Miss French’s letter. Kitty, have you no heart—and no conscience? Will you bring disgrace on that little grave? Will you dig between us the gulf which is irreparable, across which your hand and mine can never touch each other any more? I cannot and I will not believe it. Come back to me—come back!”
She reread it with a melting heart—with deep, shaking sobs. When she first glanced through it the word “command” had burned into her proud sense; the rest passed almost unnoticed. Now the very strangeness in it as coming from William—the strangeness of its grave and deep emotion—held and grappled with her.
Suddenly—some tension of the whole being seemed to give way. Her head sank back on the chair, she felt herself weak and trembling, yet happy as a soul new-born into a world of light. Waking dreams passed through her brain in a feverish succession, reversing the dream of the night—images of peace and goodness and reunion.
Minutes—hours—passed. With the first light she got up feebly, found ink and paper, and began to write.
From Lady Tranmore to William Ashe:
“Oh! my dearest William—at last a gleam of hope.
“No letter this morning. I was in despair. Margaret reported that Kitty refused to see any one—had locked her door, and was writing. Yet no letter came. I made an attempt to see Geoffrey Cliffe, who is staying at the ‘Germania,’ but he refused. He wrote me the most audacious letter to say that an interview could only be very painful, that he and Kitty must decide for themselves, that he was waiting every hour for a final word from Kitty. It rested with her, and with her only. Coercion in these matters was no longer possible, and he did not suppose that either you or I would attempt it.
“And now comes this blessed note—a respite at least! ‘I am going to Verona to-night with Blanche. Please let no one attempt to follow me. I wish to have two days alone—absolutely alone. Wait here. I will write. K“。
“… Margaret French, too, has just been here. She was almost hysterical with relief and joy—and you know what a calm, self-controlled person she is. But her dear, round face has grown white, and her eyes behind her spectacles look as though she had not slept for nights. She says that Kitty will not see her. She sent her a note by Blanche to ask her to settle all the accounts, and told her that she should not say good-bye—it would be too agitating for them both. In two days she should hear. Meanwhile the maid Blanche is certainly going with Kitty; and the gondola is ordered for the Milan train this evening.
“Two P.M. There is one thing that troubles me, and I must confess it. I did not see that across Kitty’s letter in the corner was written ‘Tell 没有人 about this letter.’ And Polly Lyster happened to be with me when it came. She has been 知道的 of the whole affair for the last fortnight—that is, as an on-looker. She and Kitty have only met once or twice since Mary reached Venice; but in one way or another she has been extraordinarily well informed. And, as I told you, she came to see me directly I arrived and told me all she knew. You know her old friendship for us, William? She has many weaknesses, and of late I have thought her much changed, grown very hard and bitter. But she is always 非常loyal to you and me—and I could not help betraying my feeling when Kitty’s note reached me. Mary came and put her arms round me, and I said to her, ‘Oh, Mary, thank God!—she’s broken with him! She’s going to Verona to-night on the way home!’ And she kissed me and seemed so glad. And I was very grateful to her for her sympathy, for I am beginning to feel my age, and this has been rather a strain. But I oughtn’t to have told her!—or anybody! I see, of course, what Kitty meant. It is incredible that Mary should breathe a word—or if she did that it should reach that man. But I have just sent her a note to Danieli’s to warn her in the strongest way.
“Beloved son—if, indeed, we save her—we will be very good to her, you and I. We will remember her bringing up and her inheritance. I will be more loving—more like Christ. I hope He will forgive me for my harshness in the past…. My William!—I love you so! God be merciful to you and to your poor Kitty!”
“Will the signora have her dinner outside or in the salle-à-manger?”
The question was addressed to Kitty by a little Italian waiter belonging to the Albergo San Zeno at Verona, who stood bent before her, his white napkin under his arm.
“Out here, please—and for my maid also.”
The speaker moved wearily towards the low wall which bounded the foaming Adige, and looked across the river. Far away the Alps that look down on Garda glistened under the stars; the citadel on its hill, the houses across the river were alive with lights; to the left the great mediæval bridge rose, a dark, ponderous mass, above the torrents of the Adige. Overhead, the little outside restaurant was roofed with twining vine-stems from which the leaves had fallen; colored lights twinkled among them and on the white tables underneath. The night was mild and still, and a veiled moon was just rising over the town of Juliet.
“布兰奇!”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Bring a chair, Blanchie, and come and sit by me.”
The little maid did as she was told, and Kitty slipped her hand into hers with a long sigh.
“Are you very tired, my lady?”
“Yes—but don’t talk!”
The two sat silent, clinging to each other.
A step on the cobble-stones disturbed them. Blanche looked up, and saw a gentleman issuing from a lane which connected the narrow quay whereon stood the old Albergo San Zeno with one of the main streets of Verona.
There was a cry from Kitty. The stranger paused—looked—advanced. The little maid rose, half fierce, half frightened.
“Go, Blanche, go!” said Kitty, panting; “go back into the hotel.”
“Not unless your ladyship wishes me to leave you,” said the girl, firmly.
“Go at once!” Kitty repeated, with a peremptory gesture. She herself rose from her seat, and with one hand resting on the table awaited the new-comer. Blanche looked at her—hesitated—and went.
Geoffrey Cliffe came to Kitty’s side. As he approached her his eyes fastened on the loveliness of her attitude, her fair head. In his own expression there was a visionary, fantastic joy; it was the look of the dreamer who, for once, finds in circumstance and the real, poetry adequate and overflowing.
“Kitty!—why did you do this?” he said to her, passionately, as he caught her hand.
Kitty snatched it away, trembling under his look. She began the answer she had devised while he was crossing the flagged quay towards her. But Cliffe paid no heed. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she sank back powerless into her chair as he bent over her.
“Cruel—cruel child, to play with me so! Did you mean to put me to a last test?—or did your hard little heart misgive you at the last moment? I cross-examined your landlady—I bribed the servants—the gondoliers. Not a word! They were loyal—or you had paid them better. I went back to my hotel in black despair. Oh, you artist!—you plotter! Kitty—you shall pay me this some day! And there—there on my table—all the time—lay your little crumpled note!”
“What note?” she gasped—”what note?”
“Actress!” he said, with an amused laugh.
And cautiously, playfully, lest she should snatch it from him, he unfolded it before her.
Without signature and without date, the soiled half-sheet contained this message, written in Italian and in a disguised handwriting:
“Too many spectators. Come to Verona to-night.
“克。”
Kitty looked at it, and then at the face beside her—infused with a triumphant power and passion. She seemed to shrink upon herself, and her head fell back against one of the supports of the 凉棚. One of the blue lights from above fell with ghastly effect upon the delicate tilted face and closed eyes. Cliffe bent over her in a sharp alarm, and saw that she had fainted away.
第五部分·Requiescat
”Pluck, pluck cypress, O pale maidens,
Dusk the hall with yew!”
“How strange!” thought the Dean, as he once more stepped back into the street to look at the front of the Home Secretary’s house in Hill Street. “He is certainly in town.”
For, according to the 时, William Ashe the night before had been hotly engaged in the House of Commons fighting an important bill, of which he was in charge, through committee. Yet the blinds of the house in Hill Street were all drawn, and the Dean had not yet succeeded in getting any one to answer the bell.
He returned to the attack, and this time a charwoman appeared. At sight of the Dean’s legs and apron, she dropped a courtesy, or something like one, informing him that they had workmen in the house and Mr. Ashe was “staying with her ladyship.”
The Dean took the Tranmores’ number in Park Lane and departed thither, not without a sad glance at the desolate hall behind the charwoman and at the darkened windows of the drawing-room overhead. He thought of that May day two years before when he had dropped in to lunch with Lady Kitty; his memory, equally effective whether it summoned the detail of an English chronicle or the features of a face once seen, placed firm and clear before him the long-chinned fellow at Lady Kitty’s left, to whose villany that empty and forsaken house bore cruel witness. And the little lady herself—what a radiant and ethereal beauty! Ah me! ah me!
He walked on in meditation, his hands behind his back. Even in this May London the little Dean was capable of an abstracted spirit, and he had still much to think over. He had his appointment with Ashe. But Ashe had written—evidently in a press of business—from the House, and had omitted to mention his temporary change of address. The Dean regretted it. He would rather have done his errand with Lady Kitty’s injured husband on some neutral ground, and not in Lady Tranmore’s house.
At Park Lane, however, he was immediately admitted.
“Mr. Ashe will be down directly, sir,” said the butler, as he ushered the visitor into the commodious library on the ground-floor, which had witnessed for so long the death-in-life of Lord Tranmore. But now Lord Tranmore was bedridden up-stairs, with two nurses to look after him, and to judge from the aspect of the tables piled with letters and books, and from the armful of papers which a private secretary carried off with him as he disappeared before the Dean, Ashe was now fully at home in the room which had been his father’s.
There was still a fire in the grate, and the small Dean, who was a chilly mortal, stood on the rug looking nervously about him. Lord Tranmore had been in office himself, and the room, with its bookshelves filled with volumes in worn calf bindings, its solid writing-tables and leather sofas, its candlesticks and inkstands of old silver, slender and simple in pattern, its well-worn Turkey carpet, and its political portraits—”the Duke,” Johnny Russell, Lord Althorp, Peel, Melbourne—seemed, to the observer on the rug, steeped in the typical habit and reminiscence of English public life.
Well, if the father, poor fellow, had been distinguished in his day, the son had gone far beyond him. The Dean ruminated on a conversation wherewith he had just beguiled his cup of tea at the Athenæum—a conversation with one of the shrewdest members of Lord Parham’s cabinet, a “new man,” and an enthusiastic follower of Ashe.
“Ashe is magnificent! At last our side has found its leader. Oh! Parham will disappear with the next appeal to the country. He is getting too infirm! Above all, his eyes are nearly gone; his oculist, I hear, gives him no more than six months’ sight, unless he throws up. Then Ashe will take his proper place, and if he doesn’t make his mark on English history, I’m a Dutchman. Oh! of course that affair last year was an awful business—the two affairs! When Parliament opened in February there were some of us who thought that Ashe would never get through the session. A man so changed, so struck down, I have seldom seen. You remember what a handsome boy he was, up to last year even! Now he’s a middle-aged man. All the same, he held on, and the House gave him that quiet sympathy and support that it can give when it likes a fellow. And gradually you could see the life come back into him—and the ambition. By George! he did well in that trade-union business before Easter; and the bill that’s on now—it’s masterly, the way in which he’s piloting it through! The House positively likes to be managed by him; it’s a sight worthy of our best political traditions. Oh yes, Ashe will go far; and, thank God, that wretched little woman—what has become of her, by-the-way?—has neither crushed his energy nor robbed England of his services. But it was touch and go.”
To all of which the Dean had replied little or nothing. But his heart had sunk within him; and the doubtfulness of a certain enterprise in which he was engaged had appeared to him in even more startling colors than before.
However, here he was. And suddenly, as he stood before the fire, he bowed his white head, and said to himself a couple of verses from one of the Psalms for the day:
”Who will lead me into the strong city: who will bring me into Edom?
Oh, be thou our help in trouble: for vain is the help of man.”
The door opened, and the Dean straightened himself impetuously, every nerve tightening to its work.
“How do you do, my dear Dean?” said Ashe, enclosing the frail, ascetic hand in both his own. “I trust I have not kept you waiting. My mother was with me. Sit there, please; you will have the light behind you.”
“Thank you. I prefer standing a little, if you don’t mind—and I like the fire.”
Ashe threw himself into a chair and shaded his eyes with his hand. The Dean noticed the strains of gray in his curly hair, and that aspect, as of something withered and wayworn, which had invaded the man’s whole personality, balanced, indeed, by an intellectual dignity and distinction which had never been so commanding. It was as though the stern and constant wrestle of the mind had burned away all lesser things—the old, easy grace, the old, careless pleasure in life.
“I think you know,” began the Dean, clearing his throat, “why I asked you to see me?”
“You wished, I think, to speak to me—about my wife,” said Ashe, with difficulty.
Under his sheltering hand, his eyes looked straight before him into the fire.
The Dean fidgeted a moment, lifted a small Greek vase on the mantel-piece, and set it down—then turned round.
“I heard from her ten days ago—the most piteous letter. As you know, I had always a great regard for her. The news of last year was a sharp sorrow to me—as though she had been a daughter. I felt I must see her. So I put myself into the train and went to Venice.”
Ashe started a little, but said nothing.
“Or, rather, to Treviso, for, as I think you know, she is there with Lady Alice.”
“Yes, that I had heard.”
The Dean paused again, then moved a little nearer to Ashe, looking down upon him.
“May I ask—stop me if I seem impertinent—how much you know of the history of the winter?”
“Very little!” said Ashe, in a low voice. “My mother got some information from the English consul at Trieste, who is a friend of hers—to whom, it seems, Lady Kitty applied; but it did not amount to much.”
The Dean drew a small note-book from a breast-pocket and looked at some entries in it.
“They seem to have reached Marinitza in November If I understood aright, Lady Kitty had no maid with her?”
“No. The maid Blanche was sent home from Verona.”
“How Lady Kitty ever got through the journey!—or the winter!” said the Dean, throwing up his hands. “Her health, of course, is irreparably injured. But that she did not die a dozen times over, of hardship and misery, is the most astonishing thing! They were in a wretched village, nearly four thousand feet up, a village of wooden huts, with a wooden hospital. All the winter nearly they were deep in snow, and Lady Kitty worked as a nurse. Cliffe seems to have been away fighting, very often, and at other times came back to rest and see to supplies.”
“I understand she passed as his wife?” said Ashe.
The Dean made a sign of reluctant assent.
“They lived in a little house near the hospital. She tells me that after the first two months she began to loathe him, and she moved into the hospital to escape him. He tried at first to melt and propitiate her; but when he found that it was no use, and that she was practically lost to him, he changed his temper, and he might have behaved to her like the tyrant he is but that her hold over the people among whom they were living, both on the fighting-men and the women, had become by this time greater than his own. They adored her, and Cliffe dared not ill-treat her. And so it went on through the winter. Sometimes they were on more friendly terms than at others. I gather that when he showed his dare-devil, heroic side she would relent to him, and talk as though she loved him. But she would never go back—to live with him; and that after a time alienated him completely. He was away more and more; and at last she tells me there was a handsome Bosnian girl, and—well, you can imagine the rest. Lady Kitty was so ill in March that they thought her dying, but she managed to write to this consul you spoke of at Trieste, and he sent up a doctor and a nurse. But this you probably know?”
“Yes,” said Ashe, hoarsely. “I heard that she was apparently very ill when she reached Treviso, but that she had rallied under Alice’s nursing. Lady Alice wrote to my mother.”
“Did she tell Lady Tranmore anything of Lady Kitty’s state of mind?” said the Dean, after a pause.
Ashe also was slow in answering. At last he said:
“I understand there has been great regret for the past.”
“Regret!” cried the Dean. “If ever there was a terrible case of the dealings of God with a human soul—”
He began to walk up and down impetuously, wrestling with emotion.
“Did she give you any explanation,” said Ashe, presently, in a voice scarcely audible—”of their meeting at Verona? You know my mother believed—that she had broken with him—that all was saved. Then came a letter from the maid, written at Kitty’s direction, to say that she had left her mistress—and they had started for Bosnia.”
“No; I tried. But she seemed to shrink with horror from everything to do with Verona. I have always supposed that fellow in some way got the information he wanted—bought it no doubt—and pursued her. But that she honestly meant to break with him I have no doubt at all.”
Ashe said nothing.
“Think,” said the Dean, “of the effect of that man’s sudden appearance—of his romantic and powerful personality—your wife alone, miserable—doubting your love for her—”
Ashe raised his hand with a gesture of passion.
“If she had had the smallest love left for me she could have protected herself! I had written to her—she knew—”
His voice broke. The Dean’s face quivered.
“My dear fellow—God knows—” He broke off. When he recovered composure he said:
“Let us go back to Lady Kitty. Regret is no word to express what I saw. She is consumed by remorse night and day. She is also still—as far as my eyes can judge—desperately ill. There is probably lung trouble caused by the privations of the winter. And the whole nervous system is shattered.”
Ashe looked up. His aspect showed the effect of the words.
“Every provision shall be made for her,” he said, in a voice muffled and difficult. “Lady Alice has been told already to spare no expense—to do everything that can be done.”
“There is only one thing that can be done for her,” said the Dean.
Ashe did not speak.
“There is only one thing that you or any one else could do for her,” the Dean repeated, slowly, “and that is to love—and forgive her!” His voice trembled.
“Was it her wish that you should come to me?” said Ashe, after a moment.
“Yes. I found her at first very despairing—and extremely difficult to manage. She regretted she had written to me, and neither Lady Alice nor I could get her to talk. But one day”—the old man turned away, looking into the fire, with his back to Ashe, and with difficulty pursued his story—”one day, whether it was, the sight of a paralyzed child that used to come to Lady Alice’s lace-class, or some impression from the service of the mass to which she often goes in the early mornings with her sister, I don’t know, but she sent for me—and—and broke down entirely. She implored me to see you, and to ask you if she might live at Haggart, near the child’s grave. She told me that according to every doctor she has seen she is doomed, physically. But I don’t think she wants to work upon your pity. She herself declares that she has much more vitality than people think, and that the doctors may be all wrong. So that you are not to take that into account. But if you will so far forgive her as to let her live at Haggart, and occasionally to go and see her, that would be the only happiness to which she could now look forward, and she promises that she will follow your wishes in every respect, and will not hinder or persecute you in any way.”
Ashe threw up his hands in a melancholy gesture. The Dean understood it to mean a disbelief in the ability of the person promising to keep such an engagement. His face flushed—he looked uncertainly at Ashe.
“For my part,” he said, quickly, “I am not going to advise you for a moment to trust to any such promise.”
Rising from his seat, Ashe began to pace the room. The Dean followed him with his eyes, which kindled more and more.
“But,” he resumed, “I none the less urge and implore you to grant Lady Kitty’s prayer.”
Ashe slightly shook his head. The little Dean drew himself together.
“May I speak to you—with a full frankness? I have known and loved you from a boy. And”—he stopped a moment, then said, simply—”I am a Christian minister.”
Ashe, with a sad and charming courtesy, laid his hand on the old man’s arm.
“I can only be grateful to you,” he said, and stood waiting.
“At least you will understand me,” said the Dean. “You are not one of the small souls. Well—here it is! Lady Kitty has been an unfaithful wife. She does not attempt to deny or cover it. But in my belief she loves you still, and has always loved you. And when you married her, you must, I think, have realized that you were running no ordinary risks. The position and antecedents of her mother—the bringing up of the poor child herself—the wildness of her temperament, and the absence of anything like self-discipline and self-control, must surely have made you anxious? I certainly remember that Lady Tranmore was full of fears.”
He looked for a reply.
“Yes,” said Ashe, “I was anxious. Or, rather, I saw the risks clearly. But I was in love, and I thought that love could do everything.”
The Dean looked at him curiously—hesitated—and at last said:
“Forgive me. Did you take your task seriously enough?—did you give Lady Kitty all the help you might?”
The blue eyes scanned Ashe’s face. Ashe turned away, as though the words had touched a sore.
“I know very well,” he said, unsteadily, “that I seemed to you and others a weak and self-indulgent fool. All I can say is, it was not in me to play the tutor and master to my wife.”
“She was so young, so undisciplined,” said the Dean, earnestly. “Did you guard her as you might?”
A touch of impatience appeared in Ashe.
“Do you really think, my dear Dean,” he said, as he resumed his walk up and down, “that one human being has, ultimately, any decisive power over another? If so, I am more of a believer in—fate—or liberty—I am not sure which—than you.”
院长叹了口气。
“That you were infinitely good and loving to her we all know.”
“‘Good’—’loving’?” said Ashe, under his breath, with a note of scorn. “I—”
He restrained himself, hiding his face as he hung over the fire.
There was a silence, till the Dean once more placed himself in Ashe’s path. “My dear friend—you saw the risks, and yet you took them! You made the vow ‘for better, for worse.’ My friend, you have, so to speak, lost your venture! But let me urge on you that the obligation remains!”
“What obligation?”
“The obligation to the life you took into your own hands—to the soul you vowed to cherish,” said the Dean, with an apostolic and passionate earnestness.
Ashe stood before him, pale, and charged with resolution.
“That obligation—has been cancelled—by the laws of your own Christian faith, no less than by the ordinary laws of society.”
“I do not so read it!” cried the Dean, with vivacity. “Men say so, ‘for the hardness of their hearts.’ But the divine pity which transformed men’s idea of marriage could never have meant to lay it down that in marriage alone there was to be no forgiveness.”
“You forget your text,” said Ashe, steadily. “Saving for the cause—'” His voice failed him.
“Permissive!” was the Dean’s eager reply—”permissive only. There are cases, I grant you—cases of impenitent wickedness—where the higher law is suspended, finds no chance to act—where relief from the bond is itself mercy and justice. But the higher law is always there. You know the formula—’It was said by them of old time. But I say unto you—’ And then follows the new law of a new society. And so in marriage. If love has the smallest room to work—if forgiveness can find the narrowest foothold—love and forgiveness are imposed on—demanded of—the Christian!—here as everywhere else. Love and forgiveness—不能 penalty and hate!”
“There is no question of hate—and—I doubt whether I am a Christian,” said Ashe, quietly, turning away.
The Dean looked at him a little askance—breathing fast.
“But you are a 心, William!” he said, using the privilege, of his white hairs, speaking as he might have spoken to the Eton boy of twenty years before—”ay, and one of the noblest. You gathered that poor thing into your arms—knowing what were the temptations of her nature, and she became the mother of your child. Now—alas! those temptations have conquered her. But she still turns to you—she still clings to you—and she has no one else. And if you reject her she will go down unforgiven and despairing to the grave.”
For the first time Ashe’s lips trembled. But his speech was very quiet and collected.
“I must try and explain myself,” he said. “Why should we talk of forgiveness? It is not a word that I much understand, or that means much to men of my type and generation. I see what has happened in this way. Kitty’s conduct last year hit me desperately hard. It destroyed my private happiness, and but for the generosity of the best friends ever man had it would have driven me out of public life. I warned her that the consequences of the Cliffe matter would be irreparable, and she still carried it through. She left me for that man—and at a time when by her own action it was impossible for me to defend either her or myself. What course of action remained to me? I 做了 remember her temperament, her antecedents, and the certainty that this man, whatever might be his moments of heroism, was a selfish and incorrigible brute in his dealings with women. So I wrote to her, through this same consul at Trieste. I let her know that if she wished it, and if there were any chance of his marrying her, I would begin divorce proceedings at once. She had only to say the word. If she did not wish it, I would spare her and myself the shame and scandal of publicity. And if she left him, I would make additional provision for her which would insure her every comfort. She never sent a word of reply, and I have taken no steps. But as soon as I heard she was at Treviso, I wrote again—or, rather, this time my lawyers wrote, suggesting that the time had come for the extra provision I had spoken of, which I was most ready and anxious to make.”
他停了下来。
“And this,” said the Dean, “is all? This is, in fact, your answer to me?”
Ashe made a sign of assent.
“Except,” he added, with emotion, “that I have heard, only to-day, that if Kitty wishes it, her old friend Miss French will go out to her at once, nurse her, and travel with her as long as she pleases. Miss French’s brother has just married, and she is at liberty. She is most deeply attached to Kitty, and as soon as she heard Lady Alice’s report of her state she forgot everything else. Can you not persuade—Kitty”—he looked up urgently—”to accept her offer?”
“I doubt it,” said the Dean, sadly. “There is only one thing she pines for, and without it she will be a sick child crossed. Ah! well—well! So to allow her to share your life again—however humbly and intermittently—is impossible?”
It seemed to the Dean that a shudder passed through the man beside him.
“Impossible,” said Ashe, sharply. “But not only for private reasons.”
“You mean your public duty stands in the way?”
“Kitty left me of her own free will. I have put my hand to the plough again—and I cannot turn back. You can see for yourself that I am not at my own disposal—I belong to my party, to the men with whom I act, who have behaved to me with the utmost generosity.”
“Of course Lady Kitty could no longer share your public life. But at Haggart—in seclusion?”
“You know what her personality is—how absorbing—how impossible to forget! No—if she returned to me, on any terms whatever, all the old conditions would begin again. I should inevitably have to leave politics.”
“And that—you are not prepared to do?”
The Dean wondered at his own audacity, and a touch of proud surprise expressed itself in Ashe.
“I should have preferred to put it that I have accepted great tasks and heavy responsibilities—and that I am not my own master.”
The Dean watched him closely. Across the field of imagination there passed the figure of one who “went away sorrowful, having great possessions,” and his heart—the heart of a child or a knight-errant—burned within him.
But before he could speak again the door of the room opened and a lady in black entered. Ashe turned towards her.
“Do you forbid me, William?” she said, quietly—”or may I join your conversation?”
Ashe held out his hand and drew her to him. Lady Tranmore greeted her old friend the Dean, and he looked at her overcome with emotion and doubt.
“You have come to us at a critical moment,” he said—”and I am afraid you are against me.”
She asked what they had been discussing, though, indeed, as she said, she partly guessed. And the Dean, beginning to be shaken in his own cause, repeated his pleadings with a sinking heart. They sounded to him stranger and less persuasive than before. In doing what he had done he had been influenced by an instinctive feeling that Ashe would not treat the wrong done him as other men might treat it; that, to put it at the least, he would be able to handle it with an ethical originality, to separate himself in dealing with it from the mere weight of social tradition. Yet now as he saw the faces of mother and son together—the mother leaning on the son’s arm—and realized all the strength of the social ideas which they represented, even though, in Ashe’s case, there had been a certain individual flouting of them, futile and powerless in the end—the Dean gave way.
“There—there!” he said, as he finished his plea, and Lady Tranmore’s sad gravity remained untouched. “I see you both think me a dreamer of dreams!”
“Nay, dear friend!” said Lady Tranmore, with the melancholy smile which lent still further beauty to the refined austerity of her face; “these things seem possible to you, because you are the soul of goodness—”
“And a pious old fool to boot!” said the Dean, impatiently. “But I am willing—like St. Paul and my betters—to be a fool for Christ’s sake. Lady Tranmore, are you or are you not a Christian?”
“I hope so,” she said, with composure, while her cheek flushed. “But our Lord did not ask impossibilities. He knew there were limits to human endurance—and human pardon—though there might be none to God’s.”
“‘Be ye perfect, as your Father which is in heaven is perfect,'” cried the Dean. “Where are the limits there?”
“There are other duties in life besides that to a wife who has betrayed her husband,” she said, steadily. “You ask of William what he has not the strength to give. His life was wrecked, and he has pieced it together again. And now he has given it to his country. That poor, guilty child has no claim upon it.”
“But understand,” said Ashe, interposing, with an energy that seemed to express the whole man—”while I live, 一切—short of what you ask—that can be done to protect or ease her, shall be done. Tell her that.”
His features worked painfully. The Dean took up his hat and stick.
“And may I tell her, too,” he said, pausing—”that you forgive her?”
犹豫了一下。
“I do not believe,” he said, at last, “that she would attach any more meaning to that word than I do. She would think it unreal. What’s done is done.”
The Dean’s heart leaped up in the typical Christian challenge to the fatal and the irrevocable. While life lasts the lost sheep can always be sought and found; and love, the mystical wine, can always be poured into the wounds of the soul, healing and recreating! But he said no more. He felt himself humiliated and defeated.
Ashe and Lady Tranmore took leave of him with an extreme gentleness and affection. He would almost rather they had treated him ill. Yes, he was an optimist and a dreamer!—one who had, indeed, never grappled in his own person with the worst poisons and corrosions of the soul. Yet still, as he passed along the London streets—marked here and there by the newspaper placards which announced Ashe’s committee triumphs of the night before—he was haunted anew by the immortal words:
“One thing thou lackest,” … and “Come, follow me!”
Ah!—could he have done such a thing himself? or was he merely the scribe carelessly binding on other men’s shoulders things grievous to be borne? The answering passion of his faith mounted within him—joined with a scorn for the easy conditions and happy, scholarly pursuits of his own life, and a thirst which in the early days of Christendom would have been a thirst for witness and for martyrdom.
Three days later the Dean—a somewhat shrunken and diminished figure, in ordinary clerical dress, without the buckles and silk stockings that typically belonged to him—stood once more at the entrance of a small villa outside the Venetian town of Treviso.
He was very weary, and as he sought disconsolately through all his pockets for the wherewithal to pay his fly, while the spring rain pattered on his wide-awake, he produced an impression as of some delicate, draggled thing, which would certainly have gone to the heart of his adoring wife could she have beheld it. The Dean’s ways were not sybaritic. He pecked at food and drink like a bird; his clothes never caused him a moment’s thought; and it seemed to him a waste of the night to use it for sleeping. But none the less did he go through life finely looked after. Mrs. Winston dressed him, took his tickets and paid his cabs, and without her it was an arduous matter for the Dean to arrive at any destination whatever. As it was, in the journey from Paris he had lost one of the two bags which Mrs. Winston had packed for him, and he looked remorsefully at the survivor as it was deposited on the steps beside him.
It did not, however, remain on the steps. For when Lady Alice’s maid-housekeeper appeared, she informed the Dean, with a certain flurry of manner, that the ladies were not at home. They had gone off that morning—suddenly—to Venice, leaving a letter for him, should he arrive.
“Fermate!” cried the Dean, turning towards the cab, which was trailing away, and the man, who had been scandalously overpaid, came back with alacrity, while the Dean stepped in to read the letter.
When he came out again he was very pale and in a great haste. He bade the man replace the bag and drive him at once to the railway-station.
On the way thither he murmured to himself, “Horrible!— horrible!”—and both the letter and a newspaper which had been enclosed in it shook in his hands.
He had half an hour to wait before the advent of the evening train for Venice, and he spent it in a quiet corner poring over the newspaper. And not that newspaper only, for he presently became aware that all the small, ill-printed sheets offered him by an old newsvender in the station were full of the same news, and some with later detail—nay, that the people walking up and down in the station were eagerly talking of it.
An Englishman had been assassinated in Venice. It seemed that a body had been discovered early on the preceding morning floating in one of the small canals connecting the Fondamente Nuove with the Grand Canal. It had been stabbed in three places; two of the wounds must have been fatal. The papers in the pocket identified the murdered man as the famous English traveller, poet, and journalist, Mr. Geoffrey Cliffe. Mr. Cliffe had just returned from an arduous winter in the Balkans, where he had rendered superb service to the cause of the Bosnian insurgents. He was well known in Venice, and the terrible event had caused a profound sensation there. No clew to the outrage had yet been obtained. But Mr. Cliffe’s purse and watch had not been removed.
The Dean arrived in Venice by the midnight train, and went to the hotel on the Riva whither Lady Alice had directed him. She was still up, waiting to see him, and in the dark passage outside Kitty’s door she told him what she knew of the murder. It appeared that late that night a startling arrest had been made—of no less a person than the Signorina Ricci, the well-known actress of the Apollo Theatre, and of two men supposed to have been hired by her for the deed. This news was still unknown to Kitty—she was in bed, and her companion had kept it from her.
“How is she?” asked the Dean.
“Frightfully excited—or else dumb. She let me give her something to make her sleep. Strangely enough, she said to me this morning on the way from Treviso: ‘It is a woman—and I know her!'”
The following day, when the Dean entered the dingy hotel sitting-room, a thin figure in black came hurriedly out of the bedroom beside it, and Kitty caught him by the hand.
“Isn’t it horrible?” she said, staring at him with her changed, dark-rimmed eyes. “She tried once, in Bosnia. One of the Italians who came out with us—she had got hold of him. Do you think—he suffered?”
Her voice was quite quiet. The Dean shuddered.
“One of the stabs was in the heart,” he said. “But try and put it from you, Lady Kitty. Sit down.” He touched her gently on the shoulder.
基蒂点点头。
“Ah, then,” she said—”然后 he couldn’t have suffered—could he? I’m glad.”
She let the Dean put her in a chair, and, clasping her hands round her knees, she seemed to pursue her own thoughts.
Her aspect affected him almost beyond bearing. Ashe’s brilliant wife?—London’s spoiled child?—this withered, tragic little creature, of whom it was impossible to believe that, in years, she was not yet twenty-four? So bewildered in mind, so broken in nerve was she, that it was not till he had sat with her some time, now entering perforce into the cloud of horror that brooded over her, now striving to drag her from it, that she asked him about his visit to England.
He told her in a faltering voice.
She received it very quietly, even with a little, queer, twisting laugh.
“I thought he wouldn’t. Was Lady Tranmore there?”
The Dean replied that Lady Tranmore had been there.
“Ah, then, of course there was no chance,” said Kitty. “When one is as good as that, one never forgives.”
She looked up quickly. “Did William say he forgave me?”
The Dean hesitated.
“He said a great deal that was kind and generous.”
A slight spasm passed over Kitty’s face.
“I suppose he thought it ridiculous to talk of forgiving. So did I—once.”
She covered her eyes with her hands—removing them to say, impatiently:
“One can’t go on being sorry every moment of the day. No, one can’t! Why are we made so? William would agree with me there.”
“Dear Lady Kitty!” said the Dean, tenderly—”God forgives—and with Him there is always hope, and fresh beginning.”
基蒂摇摇头。
“I don’t know what that means,” she said. “I wonder whether”—she looked at him with a certain piteous and yet affectionate malice—”if you’d been as deep as I, whether 您‘d know.”
The Dean flushed. The hidden wound stung again. Had he, then, no right to speak? He felt himself the elder son of the parable—and hated himself anew.
But he was a Christian, on his Master’s business. He must obey orders, even though he could feel no satisfaction, or belief in himself—though he seem to himself such a shallow and perfunctory person. So he did his tender best for Kitty. He spent his loving, enthusiastic, pitiful soul upon her; and while he talked to her she sat with her hands crossed on her lap, and her eyes wandering through the open window to the forests of masts outside and the dancing wavelets of the lagoon. When at last he spoke of the further provision Ashe wished to make for her, when he implored her to summon Margaret French, she shook her head. “I must think what I shall do,” she said, quietly; and a minute afterwards, with a flash of her old revolt—”He cannot prevent my going to Harry’s grave!”
Early the following morning the murdered man was carried to the cemetery at San Michele. In spite of some attempt on the part of the police to keep the hour secret, half Venice followed the black-draped barca, which bore that flawed poet and dubious hero to his rest.
It was a morning of exceeding beauty. On the mean and solitary front of the Casa dei Spiriti there shone a splendor of light; the lagoon was azure and gold; the main-land a mist of trees in their spring leaf; while far away the cypresses of San Francesco, the slender tower of Torcello, and the long line of Murano—and farther still the majestic wall of silver Alps—greeted the eyes that loved them, as the ear is soothed by the notes of a glorious and yet familiar music.
Amid the crowd of gondolas that covered the shallow stretch of lagoon between the northernmost houses of Venice and the island graveyard, there was one which held two ladies. Alice Wensleydale was there against her will, and her pinched and tragic face showed her repulsion and irritation. She had endeavored in vain to dissuade Kitty from coming; but in the end she had insisted on accompanying her. Possibly, as the boat glided over the water amid a crowd of laughing, chattering Italians, the silent Englishwoman was asking herself what was to be the future of the trust she had taken on herself. Kitty in her extremity had remembered her half-sister’s promise, and had thrown herself upon it. But a few weeks’ experience had shown that they were strange and uncongenial to each other. There was no true affection between them—only a certain haunting instinct of kindred. And even this was weakened or embittered by those memories in Alice’s mind which Kitty could never approach and Alice never forget. What was she to do with her half-sister, stranded and dishonored as she was?—How content or comfort her?—How live her own life beside her?
Kitty sat silent, her eyes fixed upon the barca which held the coffin under its pall. Her mind was the scene of an infinite number of floating and fragmentary recollections; of the day when she and Cliffe had followed the murazzi towards the open sea; of the meeting at Verona; of the long winter, with its hardship and its horror; and that hatred and contempt which had sprung up between them. Could she love no one, cling faithfully to no one? And now the restless brain, the vast projects, the mixed nature, the half-greatness of the man had been silenced—crushed—in a moment, by the stroke of a knife. He had been killed by a jealous woman—because of his supposed love for another woman, whose abhorrence, in truth, he had earned in a few short weeks. There was something absurd mingled with the horror—as though one watched the prank of a demon.
Her sensuous nature was tormented by the thought of the last moment. Had he had time to feel despair—the thirst for life? She prayed not. She thought of the Sunday afternoon at Grosville Park when they had tried to play billiards, and Lord Grosville had come down on them; or she saw him sitting opposite to her, at supper, on the night of the fancy ball, in the splendid Titian dress, while she gloated over the thoughts of the trick she had played on Mary Lyster—or bending over her when she woke from her swoon at Verona. Had she ever really loved him for one hour?—and if not, what possible excuse, before gods or men, was there for this ugly, self-woven tragedy into which she had brought herself and him, merely because her vanity could not bear that William had not been able to love her, for long, far above all her deserts?
William! Her heart leaped in her breast. He was thirty-six—and she not twenty-four. A strange and desolate wonder overtook her as the thought seized her of the years they might still spend on the same earth—members of the same country, breathing the same air—and yet forever separate. Never to see him—or speak to him again!—the thought stirred her imagination, as it were, while it tortured her; there was in it a certain luxury and romance of pain.
Thus, as she followed Cliffe to his last blood-stained rest, did her mind sink in dreams of Ashe—and in the dismal reckoning up of all that she had so lightly and inconceivably lost. Sometimes she found herself absorbed in a kind of angry marvelling at the strength of the old moral commonplaces.
It had been so easy and so exciting to defy them. Stones which the builders of life reject—do they still avenge themselves in the old way? There was a kind of rage in the thought.
On the way home Kitty expressed a wish to go into St. Mark’s alone. Lady Alice left her there, and in the shadow of the atrium Kitty looked at her strangely, and kissed her.
An hour after Lady Alice had reached the hotel a letter was brought to her. In it Kitty bade her—and the Dean—farewell, and asked that no effort should be made to track her. “I am going to friends—where I shall be safe and at peace. Thank you both with all my heart. Let no one think about me any more.”
Of course they disobeyed her. They made what search in Venice they could, without rousing a scandal, and Ashe rushed out to join it, using the special means at a minister’s disposal. But it was fruitless. Kitty vanished like a wraith in the dawn; and the living world of action and affairs knew her no more.
“Well, I must have a carriage!” said William Ashe to the landlord of one of the coaching inns of Domo Dossola—”and if you can’t give me one for less, I suppose I shall have to pay this most ridiculous charge. Tell the man to put to at once.”
The landlord who owned the carriages, and would be sitting snugly at home while the peasant on the box faced the elements in consideration of a large number of extra francs to his master, retired with a deferential smile, and told Emilio to bring the horses.
Meanwhile Ashe finished an indifferent dinner, paid a large bill, and went out to survey the preparations for departure, so far as the pelting rain in the court-yard would let him. He was going over the Simplon, starting rather late in the day, and the weather was abominable. His valet, Richard Dell, kept watch over the luggage and encouraged the ostlers, with a fairly stoical countenance. He was an old traveller, and though he would have preferred not to travel in a deluge, he disliked Italy, as a country of sour wine, and would be glad to find himself across the Alps. Moreover, he knew the decision of his master’s character, and, being a man of some ability and education, he took a pride in the loftiness of the affairs on which Ashe was generally engaged. If Mr. Ashe said that he 必须 get to Geneva the following morning, and to London the morning after, on important business—why, he 必须, and it was no good talking about weather.
They rattled off through the streets of Domo Dossola, Dell in front with the driver, under a waterproof hood and apron, Ashe in the closed landau behind, with a plentiful supply of books, newspapers, and cigars to while away the time.
At Isella, the frontier village, he took advantage of the custom-house formalities and of a certain lull in the storm to stroll a little in front of the inn. On the Italian side, looking east, there was a certain wild lifting of the clouds, above the lower course of the stream descending from the Gondo ravine; upon the distant meadows and mountain slopes that marked the opening of the Tosa valley, storm-lights came and went, like phantom deer chased by the storm-clouds; beside him the swollen river thundered past, seeking a thirsty Italy; and behind, over the famous Gondo cleft, lay darkness, and a pelting tumult of rain.
Ashe turned back to the carriage, bidding a silent farewell to a country he did not love—a country mainly significant to him of memories which rose like a harsh barrier between his present self and a time when he, too, fleeted life carelessly, like other men, and found every hour delightful. Never, as long as he lived, should he come willingly to Italy. But his mother this year had fallen into such an exhaustion of body and mind, caused by his father’s long agony, that he had persuaded her to let him carry her over the Alps to Stresa—a place she had known as a girl and of which she often spoke—for a Whitsuntide holiday. He himself was no longer in office. A coalition between the Tories and certain dissident Liberals had turned out Lord Parham’s government in the course of a stormy autumn session, some eight months before. It had been succeeded by a weak administration, resting on two or three loosely knit groups—with Ashe as leader of the Opposition. Hence his comparative freedom, and the chance to be his mother’s escort.
But at Stresa he had been overtaken by some startling political news—news which seemed to foreshadow an almost immediate change of ministry; and urgent telegrams bade him return at once. The coalition on which the government relied had broken down; the resignation of its chief, a “transient and embarrassed phantom,” was imminent; and it was practically certain, in the singular dearth of older men on his own side, since the retirement of Lord Parham, that within a few weeks, if not days, Ashe would be called upon to form an administration….
The carriage was soon on its way again, and presently, in the darkness of the superb ravine that stretches west and north from Gondo, the tumult of wind and water was such that even Ashe’s slackened pulses felt the excitement of it. He left the carriage, and, wrapped in a waterproof cape, breasted the wind along the water’s edge. Wordsworth’s magnificent lines in the “Prelude,” dedicated to this very spot, came back to him, as to one who in these later months had been able to renew some of the literary habits and recollections of earlier years
”—Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light!”
But here on this wild night were only tumult and darkness; and if Nature in this aspect were still to be held, as Wordsworth makes her, the Voice and Apocalypse of God, she breathed a power pitiless and terrible to man. The fierce stream below, the tiny speck made by the carriage and horses straining against the hurricane of wind, the forests on the farther bank climbing to endless heights of rain, the flowers in the rock crannies lashed and torn, the gloom and chill which had thus blotted out a June evening: all these impressions were impressions of war, of struggle and attack, of forces unfriendly and overwhelming.
A certain restless and melancholy joy in the challenge of the storm, indeed, Ashe felt, as many another strong man has felt before him, in a similar emptiness of heart. But it was because of the mere provocation of physical energy which it involved; not, as it would have been with him in youth, because of the infinitude and vastness of nature, breathing power and expectation into man:
”Effort, and expectation and desire—
And something evermore about to be!”
He flung the words upon the wind, which scattered them as soon as they were uttered, merely that he might give them a bitter denial, reject for himself, now and always, the temper they expressed. He had known it well, none better!—gone to bed, and risen up with it—the mere joy in the “mere living.” It had seasoned everything, twined round everything, great and small—a day’s trout-fishing or deer-stalking; a new book, a friend, a famous place; then politics, and the joys of power.
Gone! Here he was, hurrying back to England, to take perhaps in his still young hand the helm of her vast fortunes; and of all the old “expectation and desire,” the old passion of hope, the old sense of the magic that lies in things unknown and ways untrodden, he seemed to himself now incapable. He would do his best, and without the political wrestle life would be too trifling to be borne; but the relish and the savor were gone, and all was gray.
•••
Ah!—he remembered one or two storm-walks with Kitty in their engaged or early married days—in Scotland chiefly. As he trudged up this Swiss pass he could see stretches of Scotch heather under drifting mist, and feel a little figure in its tweed dress flung suddenly by the wind and its own soft will against his arm. And then, the sudden embrace, and the wet, fragrant cheek, and her Voice—mocking and sweet!
Oh, God! where was she now? The shock of her disappearance from Venice had left in some ways a deeper mark upon him than even the original catastrophe. For who that had known her could think of such a being, alone, in a world of strangers, without a peculiar dread and anguish? That she was alive he knew, for her five hundred a year—and she had never accepted another penny from him since her flight—was still drawn on her behalf by a banking firm in Paris. His solicitors, since the failure of their first efforts to trace her after Cliffe’s death, had made repeated inquiries; Ashe had himself gone to Paris to see the bankers in question. But he was met by their solemn promise to Kitty to keep her secret inviolate. Madame d’Estrées supplied him with the name of the convent in which Kitty had been brought up; but the mother superior denied all knowledge of her. Meanwhile no course of action on Kitty’s part could have restored her so effectually to her place in Ashe’s imagination. She haunted his days and nights. So also did his memory of the Dean’s petition. Insensibly, without argument, the whole attitude of his mind thereto had broken down; since he had been out of office, and his days and nights were no longer absorbed in the detail of administration and Parliamentary leadership, he had been the defenceless prey of grief; yearning and pity and agonized regret, rising from the deep subconscious self, had overpowered his first recoil and determination; and in the absence of all other passionate hope, the one desire and dream which still lived warm and throbbing at his heart was the dream that still in some crowd, or loneliness, he might again, before it was too late, see Kitty’s face and the wildness of Kitty’s eyes.
And he believed much the same process had taken place in his mother’s feeling. She rarely spoke of Kitty; but when she did the doubt and soreness of her mind were plain. Her own life had grown very solitary. And in particular the old friendship between her and Polly Lyster had entirely ceased to be. Lady Tranmore shivered when she was named, and would never herself speak of her if she could help it. Ashe had tried in vain to make her explain herself. Surely it was incredible that she could in any way blame Mary for the incident at Verona? Ashe, of course, remembered the passage in his mother’s letter from Venice, and they had the maid Blanche’s report to Lady Tranmore, of Kitty’s intentions when she left Venice, of her terror when Cliffe appeared—of her swoon. But he believed with the Dean that any treacherous servant could have brought about the catastrophe. Vincenzo, one of the gondoliers who took Kitty to the station, had seen the luggage labelled for Verona; no doubt Cliffe had bribed him; and this explanation was, indeed, suggested to Lady Tranmore by the maid. His mother’s suspicion—if indeed she entertained it—was so hideous that Ashe, finding it impossible to make his own mind harbor it for an instant, was harrowed by the mere possibility of its existence; as though it represented some hidden sore of consciousness that refused either to be probed or healed.
As he labored on against the storm all thought of his present life and activities dropped away from him; he lived entirely in the past. “What is it in me,” he thought, “that has made the difference between my life and that of other men I know—that weakened me so with Kitty?” He canvassed his own character, as a third person might have done.
The Christian, no doubt, would say that his married life had failed because God had been absent from it, because there had been in it no consciousness of higher law, of compelling grace.
Ashe pondered what such things might mean. “The Christian—in speculative belief—fails under the challenge of life as often as other men. Surely it depends on something infinitely more primitive and fundamental than Christianity?—something out of which Christianity itself springs? But this something—does it really exist—or am I only cheating myself by fancying it? Is it, as all the sages have said, the pursuit of some eternal good, the identification of the self with it—the ‘dying to live’? And is this the real meaning at the heart of Christianity?—at the heart of all religion?—the everlasting meaning, let science play what havoc it please with outward forms and statements?”
Had he, perhaps, doubted the soul?
He groaned aloud. “O my God, what matter that I should grow wise—if Kitty is lost and desolate?”
And he trampled on his own thoughts—feeling them a mere hypocrisy and offence.
As they left the Gondo ravine and began to climb the zigzag road to the Simplon inn, the storm grew still wilder, and the driver, with set lips and dripping face, urged his patient beasts against a deluge. The road ran rivers; each torrent, carefully channelled, that passed beneath it brought down wood and soil in choking abundance; and Ashe watched the downward push of the rain on the high, exposed banks above the carriage. Once they passed a fragment of road which had been washed away; the driver pointing to it said something sulkily about “frane” on the “other side.”
This bad moment, however, proved to be the last and worst, and when they emerged upon the high valley in which stands the village of Simplon, the rain was already lessening and the clouds rolling up the great sides and peaks of the Fletschhorn. Ashe promised himself a comparatively fine evening and a rapid run down to Brieg.
Outside the old Simplon posting-house, however, they presently came upon a crowd of vehicles of every description, of which the drivers were standing in groups with dripping rugs across their shoulders—shouting and gesticulating.
And as they drove up the news was thundered at them in every possible tongue. Between the hospice and Bérizal two hundred metres of road had been completely washed away. The afternoon diligence had just got through by a miracle an hour before the accident occurred; before anything else could pass it would take at least ten or twelve hours’ hard work, through the night, before the laborers now being requisitioned by the commune could possibly provide even a temporary passage.
Ashe in despair went into the inn to speak with the landlord, and found that unless he was prepared to abandon books and papers, and make a push for it over mountain paths covered deep in fresh snow, there was no possible escape from the dilemma. He must stay the night. The navvies were already on their way; and as soon as ever the road was passable he should know. For not even a future Prime Minister of England could Herr Ludwig do more.
He and Dell went gloomily up the narrow stone stairs of the inn to look at the bedrooms, which were low-roofed and primitive, penetrated everywhere by the roar of a stream which came down close behind the inn. Through the open door of one of the rooms Ashe saw the foaming mass, framed as it were in a window, and almost in the house.
He chose two small rooms looking on the street, and bade Dell get a fire lit in one of them, a bed moved out, an arm-chair moved in, and as large a table set for him as the inn could provide, while he took a stroll before dinner. He had some important letters to answer, and he pointed out to Dell the bag which contained them.
Then he stepped out into the muddy street, which was still a confusion of horses, vehicles, and men, and, turning up a path behind the inn, was soon in solitude. An evening of splendor! Nature was still in a tragic, declamatory mood—sending piled thunder-clouds of dazzling white across a sky extravagantly blue, and throwing on the high snow-fields and craggy tops a fierce, flame-colored light. The valley was resonant with angry sound, and the village, now in shadow, with its slender, crumbling campanile, seemed like a cowering thing over which the eagle has passed.
The grandeur and the freshness, the free, elemental play of stream and sky and mountain, seized upon a man in whom the main impulses of life were already weary, and filled him with an involuntary physical delight. He noticed the flowers at his feet, in the drenched grass which was already lifting up its battered stalks, and along the margins of the streams—deep blue colombines, white lilies, and yellow anemones. Incomparable beauty lived and breathed in each foot of pasture; and when he raised his eyes from the grass they fed on visionary splendors of snow and rock, stretching into the heavens.
No life visible—except a line of homing cattle, led by a little girl with tucked-up skirt and bare feet. And—in the distance—the slender figure of a woman walking—stopping often to gather a flower—or to rest? Not a woman of the valley, clearly. No doubt a traveller, weather-bound like himself at the inn. He watched the figure a little, for some vague grace of movement that seemed to enter into and make a part of that high beauty in which the scene was steeped; but it disappeared behind a fold of pasture, and he did not see it again.
In spite of the multitude of vehicles gathered about the inn there were not so many guests in the Salle-à-Manger, when Ashe entered it, as he had expected. He supposed that a majority of these vehicles must be return carriages from Brieg. Still there was much clatter of talk and plates, and German seemed to be the prevailing tongue. Except for a couple whom Ashe took to be a Genevese professor and his wife, there was no lady in the room.
He lingered somewhat late at table, toying with his orange, and reading a 日内瓦日报, captured from a neighbor, which contained an excellent “London letter.” The room emptied. The two Swiss handmaidens came in to clear away soiled linen and arrange the tables for the morning’s coffee. Only, at a farther table, a 覆盖 for one person, set by itself, remained still untouched.
He happened to be alone in the room when the door again opened and a lady entered. She did not see him behind his newspaper, and she walked languidly to the farther table and sat down. As she did so she was seized with a fit of coughing, and when it was over she leaned her head on her hands, gasping.
Ashe had half risen—the newspaper was crushed in his hand—when the Swiss waitress whom the men of the inn called Fräulein Anna—who was, indeed, the daughter of the landlord—came back.
“How are you, madame?” she said, with a smile, and in a slow English of which she was evidently proud.
“I’m better to-day,” said the other, hastily. “I shall start to-morrow. What a noise there is to-night!” she added, in a tone both fretful and weary.
“We are so full—it is the accident to the road, madame. Will madame have a thé complet as before?”
The lady nodded, and Frãulein Anna, who evidently knew her ways, brought in the tea at once, stayed chatting beside her for a minute, and then departed, with a long, disapproving look at the gentleman in the corner who was so long over his coffee and would not let her clear away.
Ashe made a fierce effort to still the thumping in his breast and decide what he should do. For the guests there was only one door of entrance or exit, and to reach it he must pass close beside the new-comer.
He laid down his newspaper. She heard the rustling, and involuntarily looked round.
There was a slight sound—an exclamation. She rose. He heard and saw her coming, and sat tranced and motionless, his eyes bent upon her. She came tottering, clinging to the chairs, her hand on her side, till she reached the corner where he was.
“William!” she said, with a little, glad sob, under her breath—”William!”
He himself could not speak. He stood there gazing at her, his lips moving without sound. It seemed to him that she turned her head a moment, as though to look for some one beside him—with an exquisite tremor of the mouth.
“Isn’t it strange?” she said, in the same guarded voice. “I had a dream once—a valley—and mountains—and an inn. You sat here—just like this—and—”
She put up her hands to her eyes a moment, shivered, and withdrew them. From her expression she seemed to be waiting for him to speak. He moved and stood beside her.
“Where can we talk?” he said, with difficulty. She shook her head vaguely, looking round her with that slight frown, complaining and yet sweet, which was like a touch of fire on memory.
The waitress came back into the room.
“它 is odd to have met you here!” said Kitty, in a laughing voice. “Let us go into the 讲座沙龙. The maids want to clear away. Please bring your newspaper.”
Fräulein Anna looked at them with a momentary curiosity, and went on with her work. They passed into the passage-way outside, which was full of smokers overflowing from the crowded room beyond, where the humbler frequenters of the inn ate and drank.
Kitty glanced round her in bewilderment. “The 讲座沙龙 will be full, too. Where shall we go?” she said, looking up.
Ashe’s hand clinched as it hung beside him. The old gesture—and the drawn, emaciated face—they pierced the heart.
“I told my servant to arrange me a sitting-room up-stairs,” he said, hurriedly, in her ear. “Will you go up first?—number ten.”
She nodded, and began slowly to mount the stairs, coughing as she went. The man whom Ashe had taken for a Genevese professor looked after her, glanced at his neighbor, and shrugged his shoulders. “Phthisique,” he said, with a note of pity. The other nodded. “Et d’un type très avancé!”
They moved towards the door and stood looking into the night, which was dark with intermittent rain. Ashe studied a map of the commune which hung on the wall beside him, till at a moment when the passage had become comparatively clear he turned and went up-stairs.
The door of his improvised 沙龙 was ajar. Beyond it his valet was coming out of his bedroom with wet clothes over his arm. Ashe hesitated. But the man had been with him through the greater part of his married life, and was a good heart. He beckoned him back into the room he was leaving, and the two stepped inside.
“Dell, my good fellow, I want your help. I have just met my wife here—Lady Kitty. You understand. Neither of us, of course, had any idea. Lady Kitty is very ill. We wish to have a conversation—uninterrupted. I trust you to keep guard.”
The young man, son of one of the Haggart gardeners, started and flushed, then gave his master a look of sympathy.
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
Ashe nodded and went back to the next room. He closed the door behind him. Kitty, who was sitting by the fire, half rose. Their eyes met. Then with a stifled cry he flung himself down, kneeling beside her, and she sank into his arms. His tears fell on her face, anguish and pity overwhelmed him.
“You may!” she said, brokenly, putting up her hand to his cheek, and kissing him—”you may! I’m not mad or wicked now—and I’m dying!”
Agonized murmurs of love, pardon, self-abasement passed between them. It was as though a great stream bore them on its breast; an awful and majestic power enwrapped them, and made each word, each kiss, wonderful, sacramental. He drew himself away at last, holding her hair back from her brow and temples, studying her features, his own face convulsed.
“Where have you been? Why did you hide from me?”
“You forbade me,” she said, stroking his hair. “And it was quite right. The dear Dean told me—and I quite understood. If I’d gone to Haggart then there’d have been more trouble. I should have tried to get my old place back. And now it’s all over. You can give me all I want, because I can’t live. It’s only a question of months, perhaps weeks. Nobody could blame you, could they? People don’t laugh when—it’s death. It simplifies things so—doesn’t it?”
She smiled, and nestled to him again.
“What do you mean?” he said, almost violently. “Why are you so ill?”
“It was Bosnia first, and then—being miserable—I suppose. And Poitiers was very cold—and the nuns very stuffy, bless them—they wouldn’t let me have air enough.”
He groaned aloud while he remembered his winter in London, in the forlorn luxury of the Park Lane house.
“Where have you been?” he repeated.
“Oh! I went to the Soeurs Blanches—you remember?—where I used to be. You went there, didn’t you?”—he made a sign of miserable assent—”but I made them promise not to tell! There was an old mistress of novices there still who used to be very fond of me. She got one of the houses of the Sacré Coeur to take me in—at Poitiers. They thought they were gathering a stray sheep back into the fold, you understand, as I was brought up a Catholic—of sorts. And I didn’t mind!” The familiar intonation, soft, complacent, humorous, rose like a ghost between them. “I used to like going to mass. But this Easter they wanted to make me ‘go to my duties’—you know what it means?—and I wouldn’t. I wanted to confess.” She shuddered and drew his face down to hers again—”but only once—to—you—and then, well then, to die, and have done with it. You see, I knew one can’t get on long with three-quarters of a lung. And they were rather tiresome—they didn’t understand. So three weeks ago I drew some money out and said good-bye to them. Oh! they were very kind, and very sorry for me. They wanted me to take a maid, and I meant to. But the one they found wouldn’t come with me when she saw how ill I was—and it all lingered on—so one day I just walked out to the railway-station and went to Paris. But Paris was rainy—and I felt I must see the sun again. So I stayed two nights at a little hotel maman used to go to—horrid place!—and each night I read your speeches in the reading-room—and then I got my things from Poitiers, and started—”
A fit of coughing stopped her, coughing so terrible and destructive that he almost rushed for help. But she restrained him. She made him understand that she wanted certain remedies from her own room across the corridor. He went for them. The door of this room had been shut by the observant Dell, who was watching the passage from his own bedroom farther on. When Ashe had opened it he found himself face to face as it were with the foaming stream outside. The window, as he had seen it before, was wide open to the water-fall just beyond it, and the temperature was piercingly cold and damp. The furniture was of the roughest, and a few of Kitty’s clothes lay scattered about. As he fumbled for a light, there hovered before his eyes the remembrance of their room in Hill Street, strewn with chiffons and all the elegant and costly trifles that made the natural setting of its mistress.
He found the medicines and hurried back. She feebly gave him directions. “Now the strychnine!—and some brandy.”
He did all he could. He drew some chairs together before the fire, and made a couch for her with pillows and rugs. She thanked him with smiles, and her eyes followed his every movement.
“Tell your man to get some milk! And listen”—she caught his hand. “Lock my door. That nice woman down-stairs will come to look after me, and she’ll think I’m asleep.”
It was done as she wished. Ashe took in the milk from Dell’s hands, and a fresh supply of wood. Then he turned the key in his own door and came back to her. She was lying quiet, and seemed revived.
“How cosey!” she said, with a childish pleasure, looking round her at the bare white walls and scoured boards warmed with the fire-light. The bitter tears swam in Ashe’s eyes. He fell into a chair on the other side of the fire, and stared—seeing nothing—at the burning logs.
“You needn’t suppose that I don’t get people to look after me!” she went on, smiling at him again, one shadowy hand propping her cheek. And she prattled on about the kindness of the chambermaids at Vevey and Brieg, and how one of them had wanted to come with her as her maid. “Oh! I shall find one at Florence if I get there—or a nurse. But just for these few days I wanted to be free! In the winter there were so many people about—so many eyes! I just pined to cheat them—get quit of them. A maid would have bothered me to stay in bed and see doctors—and you know, William, with this illness of mine you’re so 不安”
“Where were you going to?” he said, without looking up.
“Oh! to Italy somewhere—just to see some flowers again—and the sun. Only not to Venice!”
There was a silence, which she broke by a sudden cry as she drew him down to her.
“William! you know—I was coming home to you, when that man—found me.”
“I know. If it had only been I who killed him!”
“I’m just—猫咪!” she said, choking—”as bad as bad can be. But I couldn’t have done what Mary Lyster did.”
“Kitty—for God’s sake!”
“Oh, I know it,” she said, almost with triumph—”now I 知道 it. I determined to know—and I got people in Venice to find out. She sent the message—that told him where I was—and I know the man who took it. I suppose it would be pathetic if I sent her word that I had forgiven her. But I 没有”
Ashe cried out that it was wholly and utterly inconceivable.
“Oh no!—she hated me because I had robbed her of Geoffrey. I had killed her life, I suppose—she killed mine. It was what I deserved, of course; only just at that moment—If there is a God, William, how could He have let it happen so?”
The tears choked her. He left his seat, and, kneeling beside her, he raised her in his arms, while she murmured broken and anguished confessions.
“I was so weak—and frightened. And he said, it was no good trying to go back to you. Everybody knew I had gone to Verona—and he had followed me—No one would ever believe—And he wouldn’t go—wouldn’t leave me. It would be mere cruelty and desertion, he said. My real life was—with him. And I seemed—paralyzed. Who 民政事务总署 sent that message? It never occurred to me—I felt as if some demon held me—and I couldn’t escape—”
And again the sighs and tears, which wrung his heart—with which his own mingled. He tried to comfort her; but what comfort could there be? They had been the victims of a crime as hideous as any murder; and yet—behind the crime—there stretched back into the past the preparations and antecedents by which they themselves, alack, had contributed to their own undoing. Had they not both trifled with the mysterious test of life—he no less than she? And out of the dark had come the axe-stroke that ends weakness, and crushes the unsteeled, inconstant will.
After long silence, she began to talk in a rambling, delirious way of her months in Bosnia. She spoke of the 冷—of the high mountain loneliness—of the terrible sights she had seen—till he drew her, shuddering, closer into his arms. And yet there was that in her talk which amazed him; flashes of insight, of profound and passionate experience, which seemed to fashion her anew before his eyes. The hard peasant life, in contact with the soil and natural forces; the elemental facts of birth and motherhood, of daily toil and suffering; what it means to fight oppressors for freedom, and see your dearest—son, lover, wife, betrothed—die horribly amid the clash of arms; into this caldron of human fate had Kitty plunged her light soul; and in some ways Ashe scarcely knew her again.
She recurred often to the story of a youth, handsome and beardless, who had been wounded by a stray Turkish shot in the course of the long climb to the village where she nursed. He had managed to gain the height, and then, killed by the march as much as by the shot, he had sunk down to die on the ground-floor of the house where Kitty lived.
“He was a stranger—no one knew him in the village—no one cared. They had their own griefs. I dressed his wound—and gave him water. He thought I was his mother, and asked me to kiss him. I kissed him, William—and he smiled once—before the last hemorrhage. If you had seen the cold, dismal room—and his poor face!”
Ashe gathered her to his breast. And after a while she said, with closed eyes:
“Oh, what pain there is in the world, William!—what 疼痛! That’s what—I never knew.”
The evening wore on. All the noises ceased down-stairs. One by one the guests came up the stone stairs and along the creaking corridor. Boots were thrown out; the doors closed. The strokes of eleven o’clock rang out from the village campanile; and amid the quiet of the now drizzling rain the echoes of the bell lingered on the ear. Last of all a woman’s step passed the door—stopped at the door of Kitty’s room, as though some one listened, and then gently returned. “Fräulein Anna!” said Kitty—”she’s a good soul.”
Soon nothing was heard but the roar of the flooded stream on one side of the old narrow building and the dripping of rain on the other. Their low voices were amply covered by these sounds. The night lay before them, safe and undisturbed. Candles burned on the mantel-piece, and on a table behind Kitty’s head was a paraffine lamp. She seemed to have a craving for light.
“Kitty!” said Ashe, suddenly bending over her—”understand! I shall never leave you again.”
She started, her head fell back on his arm, and her brown eyes considered him:
“William! I saw the 普通 at Geneva. Aren’t you going home—because of politics?”
“A few telegrams will settle that. I shall take you to Geneva to-morrow. We shall get doctors there.”
A little smile played about her mouth—a smile which did not seem to have any reference to his words or to her next question.
“Nobody thinks of the book now, do they, William?”
“No, Kitty, no! It’s all forgotten, dear.”
“Oh, it was abominable!” She drew a long breath. “But I can’t help it—I did get a horrid pleasure out of writing it—till Venice—till you left off loving me. Oh, William! William!—what a good thing it is I’m dying!”
“Hush, Kitty—hush.”
“It gives one such an unfair advantage, though, doesn’t it? You can’t ever be angry with me again. There won’t be time. William, dear!—I haven’t had a brain like other people. I know it. It’s only since I’ve been so ill—that I’ve been sane! It’s a strange feeling—as though one had been 流血—and some poison had drained away. But it would never do for me to take a turn and live! Oh no!—people like me are better safely under the grass. Oh, my beloved! my beloved! I just want to say that all the time, and nothing else—I’ve hungered so to say it!”
He answered her with all the anguish, all the passionate, fruitless tenderness and vain comfortings that rise from the human heart in such a strait. But when he asked her pardon for his hardness towards the Dean’s petition, when he said that his conscience had tormented him thenceforward, she would scarcely hear a word.
“You did quite right,” she said, peremptorily—”quite right.”
Then she raised herself on her arm and looked at him.
“William!” she said, with a strange, kindled expression. “I—I don’t think I can live any more! I think—I’m dying—here—now!”
She fell back on her pillows, and he sprang to his feet, crying that he must go for Fräulein Anna and a doctor. But she held him feebly, motioning towards the brandy and strychnine. “That’s all—you can do.”
He gave them to her, and again she revived and smiled at him.
“Don’t be frightened. It was a sudden feeling—it came over me—that this dear little room—and your arms—would be the end. Oh, how much best! There!—that was foolish!—I’m better. It isn’t only the lungs, you see; they say the heart’s worst. I nearly went at Vevey, one night. It was such a long faint.”
Then she lay quiet, with her hand in his, in a dreamy, peaceful state, and his panic subsided. Once she sent messages to Lady Tranmore—messages full of sorrow, touched also—by a word here, a look there—by the charm of the old Kitty.
“I don’t deserve to die like this,” she said, once, with a half-impatient gesture. “Nothing can prevent it’s being beautiful—and touching—you know; our meeting like this—and your goodness to me. Oh, I’m glad! But I don’t want to glorify—what I’ve done. Shame! Shame!”
And again her face contracted with the old habitual agony, only to be soothed away gradually by his tone and presence, the spending of his whole being in the broken words of love.
Towards the morning, when, as it seemed to him, she had been sleeping for a time, and he had been, if not sleeping, at least dreaming awake beside her, he heard a little, low laugh, and looked round. Her brown eyes were wide open, till they seemed to fill the small, blighted face; and they were fixed on an empty chair the other side of the fire.
“It’s so strange—in this illness,” she whispered—”that it makes one dream—and generally kind dreams. It’s fever—but it’s nice.” She turned and looked at him. “Harry was there, William—sitting in that chair. Not a baby any more—but a little fellow—and so lively, and strong, and quick. I had you both—都设立的区域办事处外,我们在美国也开设了办事处,以便我们为当地客户提供更多的支持。“
Looking back afterwards, also, he remembered that she spoke several times of religious hopes and beliefs—especially of the hope in another life—and that they seemed to sustain her. Most keenly did he recollect the delicacy with which she had refrained from asking his opinion upon them, lest it should trouble him not to be able to uphold or agree with her; while, at the same time, she wished him to have the comfort of remembering that she had drawn strength and calm, in these last hours, from religious thoughts.
For they proved, indeed, to be the last hours. About three the morning began to dawn, clear and rosy, with rich lights striking on the snow. Suddenly Kitty sat up, disengaged herself from her wraps, and tottered to her feet.
“I’ll go back to my room,” she said, in bewilderment. “I’d rather.”
And as she clung to him, with a startled yet half-considering look, she gazed round her, at the bright fire, the morning light, the chair from which he had risen—his face.
He tried to dissuade her. But she would go. Her aspect, however, was deathlike, and as he softly undid the doors, and half-helped, half-carried her across the passage, he said to her that he must go and waken Fräulein Anna and find a doctor.
“No—no.” She grasped him with all her remaining strength; “stay with me.”
They entered the little room, which seemed to be in a glory of light, for the sun striking across the low roof of the inn had caught the foamy water-fall beyond, and the reflection of it on the white walls and ceiling was dazzling.
Beside the bed she swayed and nearly fell.
“I won’t undress,” she murmured—”I’ll just lie down.”
She lay down with his help, turning her face to make a fond, hardly articulate sound, and press her cheek against his. In a few minutes it seemed to him that she was sleeping again. He softly went out of the room and down-stairs. There, early as it was, he found Fräulein Anna, who looked at him with amazement.
“Where can I find a doctor?” he asked her; and they talked for a few minutes, after which she went up-stairs beside him, trembling and flushed.
They found Kitty lying on her side, her face hidden entirely in the curls which had fallen across it, and one arm hanging. There was that in her aspect which made them both recoil. Then Ashe rushed to her with a cry, and as he passionately kissed her cold cheek he heard the clamor of the frightened girl behind him. “Ach, Gott!—Ach Gott!”—and the voices of others, men and women, who began to crowd into the narrow room.