, after we'd all been up in Charley's room. There was one of these mags there, and you thought we'd all left and gone. But I came back to get my jumper, and Claire's doors were open so I could see straight through to Charley's room. That's how I saw you in there,chanel, going through the magazine,Cheap Foamposites."
"Well, so what? We all have to get our kicks some way."
"You weren't doing it for kicks. I could tell, just like I can now. It's your face, Kath. That time in Charley's room, you had a strange face. Like you were sad, maybe. And a bit scared."
I jumped off the workbench, gathered up the mags and dumped them in his arms. "Here,jordan shoes for sale. Give these to Ruth. See if they do anything for her."
I walked past him and out of the barn. I knew he'd be disappointed I hadn't told him anything, but at that point I hadn't thought things through properly myself and wasn't ready to tell anyone. But I hadn't minded him coming into the boiler hut after me. I hadn't minded at all. I'd felt comforted, protected almost. I did tell him eventually, but that wasn't until a few months later, when we went on our Norfolk trip.
Chapter 12
I want to talk about the Norfolk trip, and all the things that happened that day, but I'll first have to go back a bit, to give you the background and explain why it was we went.
Our first winter was just about over by then and we were all feeling much more settled. For all our little hiccups, Ruth and I had kept up our habit of rounding off the day in my room,montblanc ballpoint pen, talking over our hot drinks, and it was during one of those sessions, when we were larking around about something, that she suddenly said: "I suppose you've heard what Chrissie and Rodney have been saying."
When I said I hadn't, she did a laugh and continued: "They're probably just having me on. Their idea of a joke. Forget I mentioned it."
But I could see she wanted me to drag it out of her, so I kept pressing until in the end she said in a lowered voice: "You remember last week, when Chrissie and Rodney were away? They'd been up to this town called Cromer, up
2012年12月30日星期日
2012年12月18日星期二
娴峰簳涓や竾閲_Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea_565
stake has been made in the working. But we cannot prevent equilibrium from producing its effects. We may brave human laws, but we cannot resist natural ones." Captain Nemo had chosen a strange moment for uttering this philosophical reflection. On the whole, his answer helped me little. "May I ask, sir, the cause of this accident?" "An enormous block of ice, a whole mountain, has turned over,http://www.rolexsubmarinerreplica.info/," he replied. "When icebergs are undermined at their base by warmer water or reiterated shocks their centre of gravity rises, and the whole thing turns over. This is what has happened; one of these blocks, as it fell, struck the Nautilus, then, gliding under its hull, raised it with irresistible force, bringing it into beds which are not so thick, where it is lying on its side." "But can we not get the Nautilus off by emptying its reservoirs, that it might regain its equilibrium?" "That,Link, sir, is being done at this moment. You can hear the pump working. Look at the needle of the manometer; it shows that the Nautilus is rising, but the blo
ck of ice is floating with it; and, until some obstacle stops its ascending motion, our position cannot be altered." Indeed, the Nautilus still held the same position to starboard; doubtless it would right itself when the block stopped. But at this moment who knows if we may not be frightfully crushed between the two glassy surfaces? I reflected on all the consequences of our position. Captain Nemo never took his eyes off the manometer. Since the fall of the iceberg, the Nautilus had risen about a hundred and fifty feet, but it still made the same angle with the perpendicular,fake rolex watches. Suddenly a slight movement was felt in the hold. Evidently it was righting a little. Things hanging in the saloon were sensibly returning to their normal position. The partitions were nearing the upright. No one spoke. With beating hearts we watched and felt the straightening. The boards became horizontal under our feet. Ten minutes passed. "At last we have righted!" I exclaimed,chanel. "Yes," said Captain Nemo, going to the d
ck of ice is floating with it; and, until some obstacle stops its ascending motion, our position cannot be altered." Indeed, the Nautilus still held the same position to starboard; doubtless it would right itself when the block stopped. But at this moment who knows if we may not be frightfully crushed between the two glassy surfaces? I reflected on all the consequences of our position. Captain Nemo never took his eyes off the manometer. Since the fall of the iceberg, the Nautilus had risen about a hundred and fifty feet, but it still made the same angle with the perpendicular,fake rolex watches. Suddenly a slight movement was felt in the hold. Evidently it was righting a little. Things hanging in the saloon were sensibly returning to their normal position. The partitions were nearing the upright. No one spoke. With beating hearts we watched and felt the straightening. The boards became horizontal under our feet. Ten minutes passed. "At last we have righted!" I exclaimed,chanel. "Yes," said Captain Nemo, going to the d
闆穿 Snow Crash_323
t even giving her a second glance. They're all looking at Raven. And it's not just a case of celebrity watching or something like that. All of these Raft dudes, these tough scary homeboys of the sea, are scared shitless of this guy,montblanc pen.
And she's on a date with him.
And it's just started.
Suddenly, walking through another Vietnamese living room, Y.T. has a flashback to the most excruciating conversation she ever had, which was a year ago when her mother tried to give her advice on what to do if a boy got fresh with her. Yeah, Mom,http://www.rolexsubmarinerreplica.info/, right. I'll keep that in mind. Yeah, I'll be sure to remember that. Y.T,best replica rolex watches. knew that advice was worthless, and this goes to show she was right.
Chapter 79
There are four men in the life raft: Hiro Protagonist, self-employed stringer for the Central Intelligence Corporation, whose practice used to be limited to so-called "dry" operations, meaning that he sat around and soaked up information and then later spat it back into the Library, the CIC database, without ever actually doing anything. Now his practice has become formidably wet. Hiro is armed with two swords and a nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistol, known colloquially as a nine, with two ammunition clips, each carrying eleven rounds.
Vic, unspecified last name. If there was still such a thing as income tax, then every year when Vic filled out his 1040 form he would put down, as his occupation,montblanc ballpoint pen, "sniper." In classic sniper style, Vic is reticent, unobtrusive. He is armed with a long, large-caliber rifle with a bulky mechanism mounted on its top, where a telescopic sight might be found if Vic were not at the leading edge of his profession. The exact nature of this device is not obvious, but Hiro presumes that it is an exquisitely precise sensor package with fine crosshairs superimposed on the middle. Vic may safely be presumed to be carrying additional small concealed weapons.
Eliot Chung. Eliot used to be the skipper of a boat called the Kowloon. At the moment, he is between jobs. Eliot grew up in Watts, and when he speaks English,
And she's on a date with him.
And it's just started.
Suddenly, walking through another Vietnamese living room, Y.T. has a flashback to the most excruciating conversation she ever had, which was a year ago when her mother tried to give her advice on what to do if a boy got fresh with her. Yeah, Mom,http://www.rolexsubmarinerreplica.info/, right. I'll keep that in mind. Yeah, I'll be sure to remember that. Y.T,best replica rolex watches. knew that advice was worthless, and this goes to show she was right.
Chapter 79
There are four men in the life raft: Hiro Protagonist, self-employed stringer for the Central Intelligence Corporation, whose practice used to be limited to so-called "dry" operations, meaning that he sat around and soaked up information and then later spat it back into the Library, the CIC database, without ever actually doing anything. Now his practice has become formidably wet. Hiro is armed with two swords and a nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistol, known colloquially as a nine, with two ammunition clips, each carrying eleven rounds.
Vic, unspecified last name. If there was still such a thing as income tax, then every year when Vic filled out his 1040 form he would put down, as his occupation,montblanc ballpoint pen, "sniper." In classic sniper style, Vic is reticent, unobtrusive. He is armed with a long, large-caliber rifle with a bulky mechanism mounted on its top, where a telescopic sight might be found if Vic were not at the leading edge of his profession. The exact nature of this device is not obvious, but Hiro presumes that it is an exquisitely precise sensor package with fine crosshairs superimposed on the middle. Vic may safely be presumed to be carrying additional small concealed weapons.
Eliot Chung. Eliot used to be the skipper of a boat called the Kowloon. At the moment, he is between jobs. Eliot grew up in Watts, and when he speaks English,
2012年12月17日星期一
The other main foreign policy developments in June occurred around the G-7 summit hosted by Jean Chr
The other main foreign policy developments in June occurred around the G-7 summit hosted by Jean Chrtien in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Jacques Chirac, who had just been elected president of France, stopped by to see me on his way to Canada. Chirac had warm feelings for America. As a young man, he had spent time in our country, including a brief period working in a Howard Johnsons restaurant in Boston. He had an insatiable curiosity about a wide variety of issues. I liked him a lot, and liked the fact that his wife was also in politics, with a career of her own.
Despite the good chemistry between us,best replica rolex watches, our relationship had been somewhat strained by his decision to resume testing Frances nuclear weapons while I was trying to get worldwide support for a comprehensive nuclear test-ban treaty, a goal of every American President since Eisenhower,foamposite for cheap. After Chirac assured me that when the tests were completed he would support the treaty, we moved on to Bosnia, where he was inclined to be tougher on the Serbs than Mitterrand had been. He and John Major were supporting the creation of a rapid reaction force to respond to attacks on UN peacekeepers, and I pledged U.S. military support to help them and the other UN forces get into and out of Bosnia if they and the regular peacekeepers had to be withdrawn. But I also told Chirac that if the force didnt work and the UN troops were forced out of Bosnia, we would have to lift the arms embargo.
At the G-7, I had three objectives: to secure greater cooperation among the allies on terrorism, organized crime, and narco-trafficking; to identify major financial crises quickly and handle them better, with more timely and accurate information and with investments in developing nations to reduce poverty and promote environmentally responsible growth,replica chanel bags; and to resolve a serious trade dispute with Japan.
The first two were easily achieved; the third was a real problem. In two and a half years, we had made progress with Japan, completing fifteen separate trade agreements. However, in the two years since Japan had pledged to open its markets to U.S. automobiles and auto parts, the sector that accounted for more than half our total bilateral trade deficit, we had made almost no headway at all. Eighty percent of American dealerships sold Japanese cars; only 7 percent of Japanese dealerships sold cars from any other country, and rigid government regulation kept our parts out of Japans repair market. Mickey Kantor had reached the limits of his patience and had recommended putting a 100 percent tariff on Japanese luxury cars. In a meeting with Prime Minister Murayama,montblanc pen, I told him that because of our security relationship and the sluggish Japanese economy, the United States would continue to negotiate with Japan, but we had to have action soon. By the end of the month we had it. Japan agreed that two hundred dealerships would offer U.S. cars immediately, and a thousand would do so within five years; that the regulations keeping our parts out would be changed; and that Japanese automakers would increase their production in the United States and use more American-made parts.
Despite the good chemistry between us,best replica rolex watches, our relationship had been somewhat strained by his decision to resume testing Frances nuclear weapons while I was trying to get worldwide support for a comprehensive nuclear test-ban treaty, a goal of every American President since Eisenhower,foamposite for cheap. After Chirac assured me that when the tests were completed he would support the treaty, we moved on to Bosnia, where he was inclined to be tougher on the Serbs than Mitterrand had been. He and John Major were supporting the creation of a rapid reaction force to respond to attacks on UN peacekeepers, and I pledged U.S. military support to help them and the other UN forces get into and out of Bosnia if they and the regular peacekeepers had to be withdrawn. But I also told Chirac that if the force didnt work and the UN troops were forced out of Bosnia, we would have to lift the arms embargo.
At the G-7, I had three objectives: to secure greater cooperation among the allies on terrorism, organized crime, and narco-trafficking; to identify major financial crises quickly and handle them better, with more timely and accurate information and with investments in developing nations to reduce poverty and promote environmentally responsible growth,replica chanel bags; and to resolve a serious trade dispute with Japan.
The first two were easily achieved; the third was a real problem. In two and a half years, we had made progress with Japan, completing fifteen separate trade agreements. However, in the two years since Japan had pledged to open its markets to U.S. automobiles and auto parts, the sector that accounted for more than half our total bilateral trade deficit, we had made almost no headway at all. Eighty percent of American dealerships sold Japanese cars; only 7 percent of Japanese dealerships sold cars from any other country, and rigid government regulation kept our parts out of Japans repair market. Mickey Kantor had reached the limits of his patience and had recommended putting a 100 percent tariff on Japanese luxury cars. In a meeting with Prime Minister Murayama,montblanc pen, I told him that because of our security relationship and the sluggish Japanese economy, the United States would continue to negotiate with Japan, but we had to have action soon. By the end of the month we had it. Japan agreed that two hundred dealerships would offer U.S. cars immediately, and a thousand would do so within five years; that the regulations keeping our parts out would be changed; and that Japanese automakers would increase their production in the United States and use more American-made parts.
2012年12月15日星期六
他在自己的家里就尝到了一口这种离奇的混合道德的美味
他在自己的家里就尝到了一口这种离奇的混合道德的美味。他的妹妹茉莉安和一个年轻勤奋的德国血统技工有了来往。那人在学会了全部技术之后开了一家自行车修理铺，站住了脚跟。以后他又获得了一种低级牌子的自行车的代销权，于是富了起来。茉莉安前不久到马丁那小屋来看他，告诉了他她订婚的事。那时她还开玩笑，给马丁看了看手相。第二次她来时带来了赫尔曼·冯·史密特。马丁表示欢迎，并用了很为流畅优美的言辞向两人祝贺，可那却引起工妹妹的情人那农民心灵的抵触。马丁又朗诵了他为纪念跟茉莉安上次的见面所写的六七小节诗，却加深了恶劣的印象。那是些社交诗，巧妙精美，他把它叫做《手相家》。他朗诵完毕，却没有见到妹妹脸上有高兴的表情出现，不禁感到吃惊。相反，妹妹的眼睛却盯住了她的未婚夫。马丁跟随她的目光看去，却在那位重要人物歪扭的脸上看见了阴沉、慢怒的不以为然的神气。这事过去了，客人很早就离开了，马丁也把它全忘了。不过，他一时总觉得奇怪，即使是工人阶级的妇女，别人为她写诗，能有什么叫她不得意、不高兴的呢？
几天以后，茉莉安又来看他，这回是一个人来的。他倒是开门见山，没有浪费时间就痛苦地责备起他的行为来。
“怎么啦，茉莉安，”他也责备她，“你说话那样子好像为你的亲人，至少是为你哥哥感到丢脸似的。”
“我的确感到丢脸。”她爆发了出来。
马丁在她的眼里看到了屈辱的泪水，感到莫名其妙。可无论那是什么情绪，却是真实的。
“可是茉莉安，我为我的亲妹妹写诗，赫尔文凭什么嫉妒呀？”
“他不是嫉妒，”她抽抽搭搭地哭了起来，“他说那诗不正经，下——流。”
马丁低吹了一声长长的口哨，表示难以置信，回过神来之后，又读了读《手相家》的复写稿。
“我可看不出诗里有什么下流之处，”他终于说，把稿子递给了她。“你自己看看，再告诉我你觉得是什么地方下流——他用的是这个词吧。”
“那是他说的，他总该知道，”妹妹回答，带着厌恶的表情一挥手，推开了稿子。“他说你应该把它撕掉。他说，他不要这样的老婆，叫人写这样的话，还要去让人家读。他说那太丢脸，他不能忍受。”
“听着，茉莉安，他这是胡说八道。”马丁刚开口，随即改变了主意。
他看见了眼前这个伤心的姑娘，他明白要说服她和她的丈夫是不可能的。尽管事情整个儿地荒唐可笑，他仍然决定投降。
“好了好了，”他宣布，把手稿撕成了五六片，扔进了字纸篓。
他心里别有安慰，他知道那时他的打字稿已经躺在纽约一家杂志社的办公室里。这是茉莉安和她的丈夫都不会知道的。而且，即使那无害的诗发表了，也不会妨害他自己、茉莉安夫妇或任何人。
茉莉安向字纸篓伸了伸手，却忍住了。
“我可以吗？”她请求。
他点了点头。她把那些手稿破片收拾起来，塞进了短衫口袋——那是她任务完成的物证。他沉思地望着她。她叫他想起了丽齐·康诺利，虽然茉莉安没有他只见过两面的那个工人阶级姑娘那么火热、耀眼、精力充沛，但她们的服装和姿态是一样的，她们是一对。他又设想若是这两个姑娘之一在莫尔斯太太的厅堂里出现，又会怎么样。这一想，他又不禁心里一乐，笑了起来。笑意淡去，他又感到了孤独。他的这个妹妹和莫尔斯太太家的厅堂是他生命旅途上的两个里程碑。他已经把两者都扔到了身后。他深情地环视着他的那几本书。那是他现在仅有的志同道合者了。
“啊，什么？”他吃了一惊，问道。
茉莉安把她的问题再说了一遍。
“我为什么不去干活？”他有心没肠地笑了起来。“你的那位赫尔曼教训了你吧。”
她摇摇头。
“别撒谎。”他命令道，她点了点头，承认了他的判断。
“好了，你告诉你那位赫尔曼，还是多为自己的事操点心吧。我为他的女朋友写诗可以算得是他的事，但对此外的问题他是没有发言权的。明白了么？”
“你说我想当作家是办不到的么，呢？”他继续说，“你认为我不行么？——认为我倒了霉，给家庭丢了脸，是么？”
“我认为你若是有了工作就会好得多，”她理直气壮地说，他明白那话是出于至诚。“赫尔曼说——”
“滚你耶赫尔曼的蛋吧！”他叫了起来，态度却挺好，“我想知道你们什么时候结婚。还有，请征求征求你那位赫尔曼的意见，可否委屈地同意你接受我一个礼物。”
妹妹离开之后他考虑了一下这事，不禁一再苦笑。他看见妹妹和她的未婚夫、工人阶级的全部成员、还有露丝那阶级的全部成员，人人都按照自己渺小的公式过着自己的狭隘生活——他们是过着集体生活的群居动物，他们用彼此的舆论塑造着彼此的生活。他们受到那些奴役着他们的幼稚公式的控制，都不再是单个的个人，也都过不到真正的生活。马丁把他们像幽灵队伍一样召唤到了自己面前。和巴特勒先生手牵着手的是伯纳德·希金波坦；和查理·哈扑古德胜贴着脸的是赫尔曼·冯·史密特。他把他们一个一个，一对一对作了评判，然后全部打发掉。他用书本上学来的智慧和道德标准对他们作了评判，然后茫然地问道：那些伟大的灵魂、伟大的人到哪里去了？他在响应他幻觉的号召来到他小屋里的轻浮、粗野、愚昧的聪明人中寻找，一个也没有找到。他厌恶这群人，女巫喀耳刻也一定像他一样厌恶着她那群猪的。等到他把最后一个幼象都赶走，觉得自己已是单独一人时，却来了一个迟到者，这人不期而至，是个不速之客。马丁望着他，看见了那硬檐帽，方襟双排扣短外衣和大摇大摆的肩头，他看见了那个流氓，当年的他。
“你也和这些人是一路货色，小年青，”马丁冷笑说，“你那道德和知识水平当初也跟他们一模一样。你并不按照自己的本意去思想和行动。你的思想和你的衣服一样，都是预先做好的。大家的赞许规定了你的行为。你是你那帮人的头头，因为别人说你有种，为你喝彩。你打架，你指挥别人，并不是因为你喜欢那样做——你知道实际上你讨厌那样做——而是因为别人拍你的肩膀表示赞许。你打垮了干酪脸是因为你不肯认输。而你不肯认输则一部分是因为你好勇斗狠，一部分是因为你相信着你身边的人相信的东西，认为男子汉的本领就在敢于残酷凶狠地伤害和折磨别人的肉体。哼，兔意于，你甚至抢走伙伴的女朋友，并不因为你想要那些姑娘，而只是因为你身边的人在骨髓里存在的就是野蛮的公马和雄海豹的本能，而你的道德规范又由他们决定。好了，那样的年代过去了，你现在对它是怎么看的？”
转瞬之间那幻影改变了，好像作出了回答。硬檐帽和方襟短外衣不见了，为较为平和的装束所代替。脸上的蛮横之气，眼里的粗野之光也不见了；因为受到熏陶磨练，脸上闪出了心灵跟美和知识契合无间的光芒。那幻影非常像他现在的自己。他打量着幻影，看见了那映照着幻影的台灯和灯光照耀的书本。他瞥了一眼那书名，读道：《美的科学》，然后便进入幻影，挑亮台灯，读起《美的科学》来。
Chapter 30
On a beautiful fall day, a day of similar Indian summer to that which had seen their love declared the year before, Martin read his "Love-cycle" to Ruth. It was in the afternoon, and, as before, they had ridden out to their favorite knoll in the hills. Now and again she had interrupted his reading with exclamations of pleasure, and now, as he laid the last sheet of manuscript with its fellows, he waited her judgment.
几天以后，茉莉安又来看他，这回是一个人来的。他倒是开门见山，没有浪费时间就痛苦地责备起他的行为来。
“怎么啦，茉莉安，”他也责备她，“你说话那样子好像为你的亲人，至少是为你哥哥感到丢脸似的。”
“我的确感到丢脸。”她爆发了出来。
马丁在她的眼里看到了屈辱的泪水，感到莫名其妙。可无论那是什么情绪，却是真实的。
“可是茉莉安，我为我的亲妹妹写诗，赫尔文凭什么嫉妒呀？”
“他不是嫉妒，”她抽抽搭搭地哭了起来，“他说那诗不正经，下——流。”
马丁低吹了一声长长的口哨，表示难以置信，回过神来之后，又读了读《手相家》的复写稿。
“我可看不出诗里有什么下流之处，”他终于说，把稿子递给了她。“你自己看看，再告诉我你觉得是什么地方下流——他用的是这个词吧。”
“那是他说的，他总该知道，”妹妹回答，带着厌恶的表情一挥手，推开了稿子。“他说你应该把它撕掉。他说，他不要这样的老婆，叫人写这样的话，还要去让人家读。他说那太丢脸，他不能忍受。”
“听着，茉莉安，他这是胡说八道。”马丁刚开口，随即改变了主意。
他看见了眼前这个伤心的姑娘，他明白要说服她和她的丈夫是不可能的。尽管事情整个儿地荒唐可笑，他仍然决定投降。
“好了好了，”他宣布，把手稿撕成了五六片，扔进了字纸篓。
他心里别有安慰，他知道那时他的打字稿已经躺在纽约一家杂志社的办公室里。这是茉莉安和她的丈夫都不会知道的。而且，即使那无害的诗发表了，也不会妨害他自己、茉莉安夫妇或任何人。
茉莉安向字纸篓伸了伸手，却忍住了。
“我可以吗？”她请求。
他点了点头。她把那些手稿破片收拾起来，塞进了短衫口袋——那是她任务完成的物证。他沉思地望着她。她叫他想起了丽齐·康诺利，虽然茉莉安没有他只见过两面的那个工人阶级姑娘那么火热、耀眼、精力充沛，但她们的服装和姿态是一样的，她们是一对。他又设想若是这两个姑娘之一在莫尔斯太太的厅堂里出现，又会怎么样。这一想，他又不禁心里一乐，笑了起来。笑意淡去，他又感到了孤独。他的这个妹妹和莫尔斯太太家的厅堂是他生命旅途上的两个里程碑。他已经把两者都扔到了身后。他深情地环视着他的那几本书。那是他现在仅有的志同道合者了。
“啊，什么？”他吃了一惊，问道。
茉莉安把她的问题再说了一遍。
“我为什么不去干活？”他有心没肠地笑了起来。“你的那位赫尔曼教训了你吧。”
她摇摇头。
“别撒谎。”他命令道，她点了点头，承认了他的判断。
“好了，你告诉你那位赫尔曼，还是多为自己的事操点心吧。我为他的女朋友写诗可以算得是他的事，但对此外的问题他是没有发言权的。明白了么？”
“你说我想当作家是办不到的么，呢？”他继续说，“你认为我不行么？——认为我倒了霉，给家庭丢了脸，是么？”
“我认为你若是有了工作就会好得多，”她理直气壮地说，他明白那话是出于至诚。“赫尔曼说——”
“滚你耶赫尔曼的蛋吧！”他叫了起来，态度却挺好，“我想知道你们什么时候结婚。还有，请征求征求你那位赫尔曼的意见，可否委屈地同意你接受我一个礼物。”
妹妹离开之后他考虑了一下这事，不禁一再苦笑。他看见妹妹和她的未婚夫、工人阶级的全部成员、还有露丝那阶级的全部成员，人人都按照自己渺小的公式过着自己的狭隘生活——他们是过着集体生活的群居动物，他们用彼此的舆论塑造着彼此的生活。他们受到那些奴役着他们的幼稚公式的控制，都不再是单个的个人，也都过不到真正的生活。马丁把他们像幽灵队伍一样召唤到了自己面前。和巴特勒先生手牵着手的是伯纳德·希金波坦；和查理·哈扑古德胜贴着脸的是赫尔曼·冯·史密特。他把他们一个一个，一对一对作了评判，然后全部打发掉。他用书本上学来的智慧和道德标准对他们作了评判，然后茫然地问道：那些伟大的灵魂、伟大的人到哪里去了？他在响应他幻觉的号召来到他小屋里的轻浮、粗野、愚昧的聪明人中寻找，一个也没有找到。他厌恶这群人，女巫喀耳刻也一定像他一样厌恶着她那群猪的。等到他把最后一个幼象都赶走，觉得自己已是单独一人时，却来了一个迟到者，这人不期而至，是个不速之客。马丁望着他，看见了那硬檐帽，方襟双排扣短外衣和大摇大摆的肩头，他看见了那个流氓，当年的他。
“你也和这些人是一路货色，小年青，”马丁冷笑说，“你那道德和知识水平当初也跟他们一模一样。你并不按照自己的本意去思想和行动。你的思想和你的衣服一样，都是预先做好的。大家的赞许规定了你的行为。你是你那帮人的头头，因为别人说你有种，为你喝彩。你打架，你指挥别人，并不是因为你喜欢那样做——你知道实际上你讨厌那样做——而是因为别人拍你的肩膀表示赞许。你打垮了干酪脸是因为你不肯认输。而你不肯认输则一部分是因为你好勇斗狠，一部分是因为你相信着你身边的人相信的东西，认为男子汉的本领就在敢于残酷凶狠地伤害和折磨别人的肉体。哼，兔意于，你甚至抢走伙伴的女朋友，并不因为你想要那些姑娘，而只是因为你身边的人在骨髓里存在的就是野蛮的公马和雄海豹的本能，而你的道德规范又由他们决定。好了，那样的年代过去了，你现在对它是怎么看的？”
转瞬之间那幻影改变了，好像作出了回答。硬檐帽和方襟短外衣不见了，为较为平和的装束所代替。脸上的蛮横之气，眼里的粗野之光也不见了；因为受到熏陶磨练，脸上闪出了心灵跟美和知识契合无间的光芒。那幻影非常像他现在的自己。他打量着幻影，看见了那映照着幻影的台灯和灯光照耀的书本。他瞥了一眼那书名，读道：《美的科学》，然后便进入幻影，挑亮台灯，读起《美的科学》来。
Chapter 30
On a beautiful fall day, a day of similar Indian summer to that which had seen their love declared the year before, Martin read his "Love-cycle" to Ruth. It was in the afternoon, and, as before, they had ridden out to their favorite knoll in the hills. Now and again she had interrupted his reading with exclamations of pleasure, and now, as he laid the last sheet of manuscript with its fellows, he waited her judgment.
'To think
'To think,' said Traddles, 'that you should have been so nearly coming home as you must have been, my dear old boy, and not at the ceremony!'
'What ceremony, my dear Traddles?'
'Good gracious me!' cried Traddles, opening his eyes in his old way. 'Didn't you get my last letter?'
'Certainly not, if it referred to any ceremony.'
'Why, my dear Copperfield,' said Traddles, sticking his hair upright with both hands, and then putting his hands on my knees, 'I am married!'
'Married!' I cried joyfully.
'Lord bless me, yes,!' said Traddles - 'by the Reverend Horace - to Sophy - down in Devonshire. Why, my dear boy, she's behind the window curtain! Look here!'
To my amazement, the dearest girl in the world came at that same instant, laughing and blushing, from her place of concealment. And a more cheerful, amiable, honest, happy, bright-looking bride, I believe (as I could not help saying on the spot) the world never saw. I kissed her as an old acquaintance should, and wished them joy with all my might of heart.
'Dear me,' said Traddles, 'what a delightful re-union this is! You are so extremely brown, my dear Copperfield! God bless my soul, how happy I am!'
'And so am I,' said I.
'And I am sure I am!' said the blushing and laughing Sophy.
'We are all as happy as possible!' said Traddles. 'Even the girls are happy. Dear me, I declare I forgot them!'
'Forgot?' said I.
'The girls,' said Traddles. 'Sophy's sisters. They are staying with us. They have come to have a peep at London. The fact is, when - was it you that tumbled upstairs, Copperfield?'
'It was,' said I, laughing.
'Well then, when you tumbled upstairs,' said Traddles, 'I was romping with the girls. In point of fact, we were playing at Puss in the Corner. But as that wouldn't do in Westminster Hall, and as it wouldn't look quite professional if they were seen by a client, they decamped. And they are now - listening, I have no doubt,' said Traddles, glancing at the door of another room.
'I am sorry,' said I, laughing afresh, 'to have occasioned such a dispersion.'
'Upon my word,' rejoined Traddles, greatly delighted, 'if you had seen them running away, and running back again, after you had knocked, to pick up the combs they had dropped out of their hair, and going on in the maddest manner, you wouldn't have said so. My love, will you fetch the girls?'
Sophy tripped away, and we heard her received in the adjoining room with a peal of laughter.
'Really musical, isn't it, my dear Copperfield?' said Traddles. 'It's very agreeable to hear. It quite lights up these old rooms. To an unfortunate bachelor of a fellow who has lived alone all his life, you know, it's positively delicious. It's charming. Poor things, they have had a great loss in Sophy - who, I do assure you, Copperfield is, and ever was, the dearest girl! - and it gratifies me beyond expression to find them in such good spirits. The society of girls is a very delightful thing, Copperfield. It's not professional, but it's very delightful.'
Observing that he slightly faltered, and comprehending that in the goodness of his heart he was fearful of giving me some pain by what he had said, I expressed my concurrence with a heartiness that evidently relieved and pleased him greatly.
'What ceremony, my dear Traddles?'
'Good gracious me!' cried Traddles, opening his eyes in his old way. 'Didn't you get my last letter?'
'Certainly not, if it referred to any ceremony.'
'Why, my dear Copperfield,' said Traddles, sticking his hair upright with both hands, and then putting his hands on my knees, 'I am married!'
'Married!' I cried joyfully.
'Lord bless me, yes,!' said Traddles - 'by the Reverend Horace - to Sophy - down in Devonshire. Why, my dear boy, she's behind the window curtain! Look here!'
To my amazement, the dearest girl in the world came at that same instant, laughing and blushing, from her place of concealment. And a more cheerful, amiable, honest, happy, bright-looking bride, I believe (as I could not help saying on the spot) the world never saw. I kissed her as an old acquaintance should, and wished them joy with all my might of heart.
'Dear me,' said Traddles, 'what a delightful re-union this is! You are so extremely brown, my dear Copperfield! God bless my soul, how happy I am!'
'And so am I,' said I.
'And I am sure I am!' said the blushing and laughing Sophy.
'We are all as happy as possible!' said Traddles. 'Even the girls are happy. Dear me, I declare I forgot them!'
'Forgot?' said I.
'The girls,' said Traddles. 'Sophy's sisters. They are staying with us. They have come to have a peep at London. The fact is, when - was it you that tumbled upstairs, Copperfield?'
'It was,' said I, laughing.
'Well then, when you tumbled upstairs,' said Traddles, 'I was romping with the girls. In point of fact, we were playing at Puss in the Corner. But as that wouldn't do in Westminster Hall, and as it wouldn't look quite professional if they were seen by a client, they decamped. And they are now - listening, I have no doubt,' said Traddles, glancing at the door of another room.
'I am sorry,' said I, laughing afresh, 'to have occasioned such a dispersion.'
'Upon my word,' rejoined Traddles, greatly delighted, 'if you had seen them running away, and running back again, after you had knocked, to pick up the combs they had dropped out of their hair, and going on in the maddest manner, you wouldn't have said so. My love, will you fetch the girls?'
Sophy tripped away, and we heard her received in the adjoining room with a peal of laughter.
'Really musical, isn't it, my dear Copperfield?' said Traddles. 'It's very agreeable to hear. It quite lights up these old rooms. To an unfortunate bachelor of a fellow who has lived alone all his life, you know, it's positively delicious. It's charming. Poor things, they have had a great loss in Sophy - who, I do assure you, Copperfield is, and ever was, the dearest girl! - and it gratifies me beyond expression to find them in such good spirits. The society of girls is a very delightful thing, Copperfield. It's not professional, but it's very delightful.'
Observing that he slightly faltered, and comprehending that in the goodness of his heart he was fearful of giving me some pain by what he had said, I expressed my concurrence with a heartiness that evidently relieved and pleased him greatly.
2012年12月8日星期六
Between July 29 and August 5
Between July 29 and August 5, I was asked to organize two towns in the Fifth Congressional District, Bethel and Trumbull. Both were full of old white wooden houses with big front porches and long histories that were chronicled in the local registers. In Bethel,http://www.moncleroutletonlinestore.com/, we put in phones the first day and organized a telephone canvass, to be followed by personal deliveries of literature to all the undecided voters. The office was kept open long hours by dedicated volunteers, and I was pretty sure Duffey would get his maximum possible vote there. Trumbull didnt have a fully operational headquarters; the volunteers were phoning some voters and seeing others. I urged them to keep an office open from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., Monday through Saturday, and to follow the Bethel canvassing procedure, which would guarantee two contacts with all persuadable voters. I also reviewed the operations in two other towns that were less well organized and urged the state headquarters to at least make sure they had complete voter lists and the capacity to do the phone canvass.
I liked the work and met a lot of people who would be important in my life,Moncler Outlet Online Store, including John Podesta,Moncler Jackets For Men, who served superbly in the White House as staff secretary, deputy chief of staff, and chief of staff, and Susan Thomases, who, when I was in New York, let me sleep on the couch in the Park Avenue apartment where she still lives, and who became one of Hillarys and my closest friends and advisors.
When Joe Duffey won the primary, I was asked to coordinate the Third Congressional District for the general election. The biggest city in the district was New Haven, where Id be going to law school, and the district included Milford, where I would be living. Doing the job meant that Id miss a lot of classes until the election was over in early November, but I thought I could make it with borrowed notes and hard study at the end of term.
I loved New Haven with its cauldron of old-fashioned ethnic politics and student activists. East Haven, next door, was overwhelmingly Italian, while nearby Orange was mostly Irish. The towns farther away from New Haven tended to be wealthier, with the ethnic lines more blurred. The two towns at the eastern end of the district, Guilford and Madison, were especially old and beautiful. I spent a lot of time driving to the other towns in the district, making sure our people had a good campaign plan in place, and the support and materials they needed from the central headquarters. Since my Volkswagen had been ruined in the wreck in Massachusetts, I was driving a rust-colored Opel station wagon, which was better suited to delivering campaign materials anyway. I put a lot of miles on that old station wagon,Website.
When my campaign work permitted, I attended classes in constitutional law, contracts, procedure, and torts. The most interesting class by far was Constitutional Law, taught by Robert Bork, who was later put on the Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia, and in 1987 was nominated for the Supreme Court by President Reagan. Bork was extremely conservative in his legal philosophy, aggressive in pushing his point of view, but fair to students who disagreed. In my one memorable exchange with him, I pointed out that his argument on the question at issue was circular. He replied, Of course it is. All the best arguments are.
I liked the work and met a lot of people who would be important in my life,Moncler Outlet Online Store, including John Podesta,Moncler Jackets For Men, who served superbly in the White House as staff secretary, deputy chief of staff, and chief of staff, and Susan Thomases, who, when I was in New York, let me sleep on the couch in the Park Avenue apartment where she still lives, and who became one of Hillarys and my closest friends and advisors.
When Joe Duffey won the primary, I was asked to coordinate the Third Congressional District for the general election. The biggest city in the district was New Haven, where Id be going to law school, and the district included Milford, where I would be living. Doing the job meant that Id miss a lot of classes until the election was over in early November, but I thought I could make it with borrowed notes and hard study at the end of term.
I loved New Haven with its cauldron of old-fashioned ethnic politics and student activists. East Haven, next door, was overwhelmingly Italian, while nearby Orange was mostly Irish. The towns farther away from New Haven tended to be wealthier, with the ethnic lines more blurred. The two towns at the eastern end of the district, Guilford and Madison, were especially old and beautiful. I spent a lot of time driving to the other towns in the district, making sure our people had a good campaign plan in place, and the support and materials they needed from the central headquarters. Since my Volkswagen had been ruined in the wreck in Massachusetts, I was driving a rust-colored Opel station wagon, which was better suited to delivering campaign materials anyway. I put a lot of miles on that old station wagon,Website.
When my campaign work permitted, I attended classes in constitutional law, contracts, procedure, and torts. The most interesting class by far was Constitutional Law, taught by Robert Bork, who was later put on the Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia, and in 1987 was nominated for the Supreme Court by President Reagan. Bork was extremely conservative in his legal philosophy, aggressive in pushing his point of view, but fair to students who disagreed. In my one memorable exchange with him, I pointed out that his argument on the question at issue was circular. He replied, Of course it is. All the best arguments are.
Sometimes he questioned
Sometimes he questioned, and induced in her mind temporary doubts as to the correctness of her own definitions and conceptions of music. But her singing he did not question. It was too wholly her, and he sat always amazed at the divine melody of her pure soprano voice. And he could not help but contrast it with the weak pipings and shrill quaverings of factory girls, ill-nourished and untrained, and with the raucous shriekings from gin-cracked throats of the women of the seaport towns,Jeremy Scott Adidas Wings. She enjoyed singing and playing to him. In truth, it was the first time she had ever had a human soul to play with, and the plastic clay of him was a delight to mould; for she thought she was moulding it, and her intentions were good. Besides, it was pleasant to be with him. He did not repel her. That first repulsion had been really a fear of her undiscovered self, and the fear had gone to sleep. Though she did not know it, she had a feeling in him of proprietary right. Also, he had a tonic effect upon her. She was studying hard at the university, and it seemed to strengthen her to emerge from the dusty books and have the fresh sea-breeze of his personality blow upon her. Strength! Strength was what she needed, and he gave it to her in generous measure. To come into the same room with him, or to meet him at the door, was to take heart of life. And when he had gone, she would return to her books with a keener zest and fresh store of energy.
She knew her Browning, but it had never sunk into her that it was an awkward thing to play with souls. As her interest in Martin increased, the remodelling of his life became a passion with her.
"There is Mr. Butler," she said one afternoon, when grammar and arithmetic and poetry had been put aside.
"He had comparatively no advantages at first. His father had been a bank cashier, but he lingered for years, dying of consumption in Arizona, so that when he was dead, Mr,adidas shoes for girls. Butler, Charles Butler he was called, found himself alone in the world. His father had come from Australia, you know, and so he had no relatives in California,Moncler Jackets For Women. He went to work in a printing-office, - I have heard him tell of it many times, - and he got three dollars a week, at first. His income to-day is at least thirty thousand a year. How did he do it? He was honest, and faithful, and industrious, and economical. He denied himself the enjoyments that most boys indulge in. He made it a point to save so much every week, no matter what he had to do without in order to save it. Of course, he was soon earning more than three dollars a week, and as his wages increased he saved more and more,Moncler Sale.
"He worked in the daytime, and at night he went to night school. He had his eyes fixed always on the future. Later on he went to night high school. When he was only seventeen, he was earning excellent wages at setting type, but he was ambitious. He wanted a career, not a livelihood, and he was content to make immediate sacrifices for his ultimate again. He decided upon the law, and he entered father's office as an office boy - think of that! - and got only four dollars a week. But he had learned how to be economical, and out of that four dollars he went on saving money."
She knew her Browning, but it had never sunk into her that it was an awkward thing to play with souls. As her interest in Martin increased, the remodelling of his life became a passion with her.
"There is Mr. Butler," she said one afternoon, when grammar and arithmetic and poetry had been put aside.
"He had comparatively no advantages at first. His father had been a bank cashier, but he lingered for years, dying of consumption in Arizona, so that when he was dead, Mr,adidas shoes for girls. Butler, Charles Butler he was called, found himself alone in the world. His father had come from Australia, you know, and so he had no relatives in California,Moncler Jackets For Women. He went to work in a printing-office, - I have heard him tell of it many times, - and he got three dollars a week, at first. His income to-day is at least thirty thousand a year. How did he do it? He was honest, and faithful, and industrious, and economical. He denied himself the enjoyments that most boys indulge in. He made it a point to save so much every week, no matter what he had to do without in order to save it. Of course, he was soon earning more than three dollars a week, and as his wages increased he saved more and more,Moncler Sale.
"He worked in the daytime, and at night he went to night school. He had his eyes fixed always on the future. Later on he went to night high school. When he was only seventeen, he was earning excellent wages at setting type, but he was ambitious. He wanted a career, not a livelihood, and he was content to make immediate sacrifices for his ultimate again. He decided upon the law, and he entered father's office as an office boy - think of that! - and got only four dollars a week. But he had learned how to be economical, and out of that four dollars he went on saving money."
2012年12月5日星期三
They sat at the table
They sat at the table, two coffee cups between them, and Mark removed the letters from the bag he’d brought with him.
“He saved them,” he said. “I didn’t know what else to do with them, except to bring them to you.”
Adrienne nodded as she took them.
“Thank you for your letter,” she said. “I know how hard it must have been for you to write it.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and for a long time, he was silent. Then, of course, he told her why he’d come.
Now, on the porch, Adrienne smiled as she thought about what Paul had done for her. She remembered going to visit her father in the nursing home after Mark had left, the place her father would never have to leave. As Mark had explained as he’d sat at the table, Paul had already made arrangements for her father to be taken care of there until the end of his days—a gift he had hoped to surprise her with. When she began to protest, Mark made it clear that it would have broken his heart to know that she wouldn’t accept it.
“Please,” he finally said,Moncler Jackets For Men, “it’s what my dad wanted.”
In the years that followed, she would cherish Paul’s final gesture, just as she cherished every memory of the few days they spent together,adidas shoes for girls. Paul still meant everything to her, would always mean everything to her, and in the chilly air of a late winter evening,cheap jeremy scott adidas wings, Adrienne knew she would always feel that way.
She’d already lived through more years than she had remaining, but it hadn’t seemed that long. Entire years had slipped from her memory, washed away like sandy foot-prints near the water’s edge. With the exception of the time she’d spent with Paul Flanner, she sometimes be-lieved that she had passed through life with no more awareness than that of a small child on a tong car ride, staring out the window as the scenery rolled past.
She had fallen in love with a stranger in the course of a weekend, and she would never fall in love again. The de-sire to love again had ended on a mountain pass in Ecuador. Paul had died for his son, and in that moment, part of her had died as well.
She wasn’t bitter, though. In the same situation, she knew she would have tried to save her own child as well,HOMEPAGE. Yes, Paul was gone, but he had left her with so much. She’d found love and joy, she’d found a strength she never knew she had, and nothing could ever take those things away.
But all of it was over now, all except the memories, and she’d constructed those with infinite care. They were as real to her as the scene she was staring at now, and blink-ing back the tears that had started falling in the empty darkness of her bedroom, she raised her chin. Staring into the sky, she breathed deeply, listening to the distant and imagined echo of waves as they broke along the shore on a stormy night in Rodanthe.
“He saved them,” he said. “I didn’t know what else to do with them, except to bring them to you.”
Adrienne nodded as she took them.
“Thank you for your letter,” she said. “I know how hard it must have been for you to write it.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and for a long time, he was silent. Then, of course, he told her why he’d come.
Now, on the porch, Adrienne smiled as she thought about what Paul had done for her. She remembered going to visit her father in the nursing home after Mark had left, the place her father would never have to leave. As Mark had explained as he’d sat at the table, Paul had already made arrangements for her father to be taken care of there until the end of his days—a gift he had hoped to surprise her with. When she began to protest, Mark made it clear that it would have broken his heart to know that she wouldn’t accept it.
“Please,” he finally said,Moncler Jackets For Men, “it’s what my dad wanted.”
In the years that followed, she would cherish Paul’s final gesture, just as she cherished every memory of the few days they spent together,adidas shoes for girls. Paul still meant everything to her, would always mean everything to her, and in the chilly air of a late winter evening,cheap jeremy scott adidas wings, Adrienne knew she would always feel that way.
She’d already lived through more years than she had remaining, but it hadn’t seemed that long. Entire years had slipped from her memory, washed away like sandy foot-prints near the water’s edge. With the exception of the time she’d spent with Paul Flanner, she sometimes be-lieved that she had passed through life with no more awareness than that of a small child on a tong car ride, staring out the window as the scenery rolled past.
She had fallen in love with a stranger in the course of a weekend, and she would never fall in love again. The de-sire to love again had ended on a mountain pass in Ecuador. Paul had died for his son, and in that moment, part of her had died as well.
She wasn’t bitter, though. In the same situation, she knew she would have tried to save her own child as well,HOMEPAGE. Yes, Paul was gone, but he had left her with so much. She’d found love and joy, she’d found a strength she never knew she had, and nothing could ever take those things away.
But all of it was over now, all except the memories, and she’d constructed those with infinite care. They were as real to her as the scene she was staring at now, and blink-ing back the tears that had started falling in the empty darkness of her bedroom, she raised her chin. Staring into the sky, she breathed deeply, listening to the distant and imagined echo of waves as they broke along the shore on a stormy night in Rodanthe.
To herself she added 'And this
To herself she added: 'And this, too: I'm going to have a son. But he'll need plenty of looking after, or else.'
It seems to me that, running deep in the veins of my mother, perhaps deeper than she knew, the supernatural conceits of Naseem Aziz had begun to influence her thoughts and behaviour - those conceits which persuaded Reverend Mother that aeroplanes were inventions of the devil, and that cameras could steal your soul, and that ghosts were as obvious a part of reality as Paradise, and that it was nothing less than a sin to place certain sanctified ears between one's thumb and forefinger, were now whispering in her daughter's darkling head,north face outlet. 'Even if we're sitting in the middle of all this English garbage,' my mother was beginning to think, 'this is still India, and people like Ramram Seth know what they know.'
In this way the scepticism of her beloved father was replaced by the credulity of my grandmother; and, at the same time, the adventurous spark which Amina had inherited from Doctor Aziz was being snuffed out by another, and equally heavy, weight.
By the time the rains came at the end of June, the foetus was fully formed inside her womb. Knees and nose were present; and as many heads as would grow were already in position. What had been (at the beginning) no bigger than a full stop had expanded into a comma, a word, a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter; now it was bursting into more complex developments, becoming, one might say, a book -perhaps an encyclopaedia - even a whole language ... which is to say that the lump in the middle of my mother grew so large, and became so heavy, that while Warden Road at the foot of our two-storey hillock became flooded with dirty yellow rainwater and stranded buses began to rust and children swam in the liquid road and newspapers sank soggily beneath the surface, Amina found herself in a circular first-floor tower room, scarcely able to move beneath the weight of her leaden balloon.
Endless rain. Water seeping in under windows in which stained-glass tulips danced along leaded panes. Towels,adidas shoes for girls, jammed against window-frames, soaked up water until they became heavy, saturated, useless. The sea: grey and ponderous and stretching out to meet the rainclouds at a narrowed horizon. Rain drumming against my mother's ears, adding to the confusion of fortune-teller and maternal credulity and the dislocating presence of strangers' possessions, making her imagine all manner of strange things. Trapped beneath her growing child, Amina pictured herself as a convicted murderer in Mughal times, when death by crushing beneath a boulder had been a common punishment ... and in the years to come, whenever she looked back at that time which was the end of the time before she became a mother, that time in which the ticktock of countdown calendars was rushing everyone towards August 15th, she would say: 'I don't know about any of that. To me, it was like time had come to a complete stop. The baby in my stomach stopped the clocks,Moncler Outlet Online Store. I'm sure of that. Don't laugh: you remember the clocktower at the end of the hill? I'm telling you,Moncler Jackets For Men, after that monsoon it never worked again.'
It seems to me that, running deep in the veins of my mother, perhaps deeper than she knew, the supernatural conceits of Naseem Aziz had begun to influence her thoughts and behaviour - those conceits which persuaded Reverend Mother that aeroplanes were inventions of the devil, and that cameras could steal your soul, and that ghosts were as obvious a part of reality as Paradise, and that it was nothing less than a sin to place certain sanctified ears between one's thumb and forefinger, were now whispering in her daughter's darkling head,north face outlet. 'Even if we're sitting in the middle of all this English garbage,' my mother was beginning to think, 'this is still India, and people like Ramram Seth know what they know.'
In this way the scepticism of her beloved father was replaced by the credulity of my grandmother; and, at the same time, the adventurous spark which Amina had inherited from Doctor Aziz was being snuffed out by another, and equally heavy, weight.
By the time the rains came at the end of June, the foetus was fully formed inside her womb. Knees and nose were present; and as many heads as would grow were already in position. What had been (at the beginning) no bigger than a full stop had expanded into a comma, a word, a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter; now it was bursting into more complex developments, becoming, one might say, a book -perhaps an encyclopaedia - even a whole language ... which is to say that the lump in the middle of my mother grew so large, and became so heavy, that while Warden Road at the foot of our two-storey hillock became flooded with dirty yellow rainwater and stranded buses began to rust and children swam in the liquid road and newspapers sank soggily beneath the surface, Amina found herself in a circular first-floor tower room, scarcely able to move beneath the weight of her leaden balloon.
Endless rain. Water seeping in under windows in which stained-glass tulips danced along leaded panes. Towels,adidas shoes for girls, jammed against window-frames, soaked up water until they became heavy, saturated, useless. The sea: grey and ponderous and stretching out to meet the rainclouds at a narrowed horizon. Rain drumming against my mother's ears, adding to the confusion of fortune-teller and maternal credulity and the dislocating presence of strangers' possessions, making her imagine all manner of strange things. Trapped beneath her growing child, Amina pictured herself as a convicted murderer in Mughal times, when death by crushing beneath a boulder had been a common punishment ... and in the years to come, whenever she looked back at that time which was the end of the time before she became a mother, that time in which the ticktock of countdown calendars was rushing everyone towards August 15th, she would say: 'I don't know about any of that. To me, it was like time had come to a complete stop. The baby in my stomach stopped the clocks,Moncler Outlet Online Store. I'm sure of that. Don't laugh: you remember the clocktower at the end of the hill? I'm telling you,Moncler Jackets For Men, after that monsoon it never worked again.'
2012年12月4日星期二
Luther hated the Christmas party even in a good year
Luther hated the Christmas party even in a good year. He drank little and never got drunk, and every year he was embarrassed for his colleagues as they made fools of themselves.
So he stayed in his office with his door locked and tended to last-minute details. Then some music started down the hall just after 11 A.M. Luther found the right moment and disappeared. It was the twenty-third of December. He wouldn't return until the sixth of January, and by then the office would be back to normal.
Good riddance.
He stepped into the travel agency to say good-bye to Biff, but she was already gone, off to a fabulous new resort in Mexico that offered a holiday package,Moncler Jackets For Women. He walked briskly to his car, quite proud that he was skipping the madness up on the sixth floor. He drove toward the mall, for one last tanning session, one last look at the crush of idiots who'd waited till almost the last minute to buy whatever was left in the stores. The traffic was dense and slow, and when he finally arrived at the mall a traffic cop was blocking the entrance. Parking lots were full. No more room. Go away.
Gladly, thought Luther.
He met Nora for lunch at a crowded bakery in the District. They'd actually made a reservation,HOMEPAGE, something unheard of for the rest of the year. He was late. She'd been crying.
"It's Bev Scheel," she said. "Went for a checkup yesterday. The cancer's back, for the third time."
Though Luther and Walt had never been close, their wives had managed to maintain good relations over the past couple of years. Truth was, for many years no one on Hemlock had much to do with the Scheels. They'd worked hard to have more, and their higher income had always been on display.
"It's spread to her lungs," Nora said, wiping her eyes. They ordered sparkling water. "And they suspect it's in her kidneys and liver."
Luther winced as the horrific disease crept on. "That's awful," he said in a low voice,http://www.cheapnorthfacedownjacket.com/.
"This could be her last Christmas."
"Did her doctor say that?" he asked, wary of amateur prognostications.
"No, I did."
They dwelt on the Scheels far too long, and when Luther'd had enough he said, "We leave in forty-eight hours. Cheers." They touched plastic glasses and Nora managed a smile,Website.
Halfway through their salads, Luther asked, "Any regrets?"
She shook her head no, swallowed, and said, "Oh, I've missed the tree at times, the decorations, the music, the memories, I guess. But not the traffic and shopping and stress. It was a great idea, Luther."
"I'm a genius."
"Let's not get carried away. You think Blair will even think about Christmas?"
"Not if she's lucky. Doubt it," he said with a mouthful. "She's working with a bunch of heathen savages who worship rivers and such. Why should they take a break for Christmas?"
"That's a little harsh, Luther. Savages?"
"Just kidding, dear. I'm sure they're gentle people. Not to worry."
"She said she never looks at a calendar."
"Now that's impressive. I've got two calendars in my office and I still forget which day it is."
Millie from the Women's Clinic barged in with a hug for Nora and a Merry Christmas for Luther, who would've otherwise been irritated except that Millie was tall and lanky and very cute for a woman her age. Early fifties.
So he stayed in his office with his door locked and tended to last-minute details. Then some music started down the hall just after 11 A.M. Luther found the right moment and disappeared. It was the twenty-third of December. He wouldn't return until the sixth of January, and by then the office would be back to normal.
Good riddance.
He stepped into the travel agency to say good-bye to Biff, but she was already gone, off to a fabulous new resort in Mexico that offered a holiday package,Moncler Jackets For Women. He walked briskly to his car, quite proud that he was skipping the madness up on the sixth floor. He drove toward the mall, for one last tanning session, one last look at the crush of idiots who'd waited till almost the last minute to buy whatever was left in the stores. The traffic was dense and slow, and when he finally arrived at the mall a traffic cop was blocking the entrance. Parking lots were full. No more room. Go away.
Gladly, thought Luther.
He met Nora for lunch at a crowded bakery in the District. They'd actually made a reservation,HOMEPAGE, something unheard of for the rest of the year. He was late. She'd been crying.
"It's Bev Scheel," she said. "Went for a checkup yesterday. The cancer's back, for the third time."
Though Luther and Walt had never been close, their wives had managed to maintain good relations over the past couple of years. Truth was, for many years no one on Hemlock had much to do with the Scheels. They'd worked hard to have more, and their higher income had always been on display.
"It's spread to her lungs," Nora said, wiping her eyes. They ordered sparkling water. "And they suspect it's in her kidneys and liver."
Luther winced as the horrific disease crept on. "That's awful," he said in a low voice,http://www.cheapnorthfacedownjacket.com/.
"This could be her last Christmas."
"Did her doctor say that?" he asked, wary of amateur prognostications.
"No, I did."
They dwelt on the Scheels far too long, and when Luther'd had enough he said, "We leave in forty-eight hours. Cheers." They touched plastic glasses and Nora managed a smile,Website.
Halfway through their salads, Luther asked, "Any regrets?"
She shook her head no, swallowed, and said, "Oh, I've missed the tree at times, the decorations, the music, the memories, I guess. But not the traffic and shopping and stress. It was a great idea, Luther."
"I'm a genius."
"Let's not get carried away. You think Blair will even think about Christmas?"
"Not if she's lucky. Doubt it," he said with a mouthful. "She's working with a bunch of heathen savages who worship rivers and such. Why should they take a break for Christmas?"
"That's a little harsh, Luther. Savages?"
"Just kidding, dear. I'm sure they're gentle people. Not to worry."
"She said she never looks at a calendar."
"Now that's impressive. I've got two calendars in my office and I still forget which day it is."
Millie from the Women's Clinic barged in with a hug for Nora and a Merry Christmas for Luther, who would've otherwise been irritated except that Millie was tall and lanky and very cute for a woman her age. Early fifties.
When you see a horse's ears move
"When you see a horse's ears move," she declared, "it is a sign that he is vicious. Flip's ears were never still."
"Why, Rose," cried her brother, "this horse is no more like Flip than an old cow is like a wild cat. Besides his ears don't move."
"Oh, yes, they do," remarked Helene, with the calmness of scientific conviction,Moncler Jackets For Men. "When a horse moves his ears have got to move too. They are not detachable. It is the same with other animals."
"Where is my note-book?" inquired Edward, after a fruitless search in his various pockets, while Rose observed "Well,Moncler Sale, you may say what you please, but I feel sure he is not safe."
"Indeed, he isn't," echoed the driver. "He's liable to turn around any moment and bite you. It's a good thing the livery stable man hitched him up head first, else we might all have been devoured by the ferocious beast."
Such pleasantries might have been indefinitely extended had not unusual sounds of mirth and minstrelsy coming from behind arrested their attention.
"Why, it is the Elmsleys," softly exclaimed Rose. "Dear me! I haven't seen Grace and Eleanor for months."
These young ladies hailed her with every expression of delight as the carriages came to a stand-still together. They had a prodigious amount to say. At last, as the horses were growing restive, Mrs. Elmsley invited Miss Macleod to join their family party,http://www.moncleroutletonlinestore.com/, as they also were on their way to York.
"Do!" echoed the daughters, and Rose accepted with alacrity. "The horse we have isn't at all safe," she explained, "and I am quite nervous on the subject since my accident last summer."
"Rose," demanded Helene, in a low aside, but with a tragic countenance, "you surely are not going to leave me?"
The girl laughed as she accepted Mr. Elmsley's proffered assistance from one vehicle into the other. "Why, you are quite a grown woman," observed that gentleman, apparently much impressed by her mature proportions,Website, "and it seems like only the other day that you were seven years old, and used to kiss me when we met."
"Well, I'll kiss you again," replied the saucy Rose, adding after a moment's pause,--"when I am seven years old."
"I warn you, Mrs. Elmsley," said Edward, shaking his head with doleful foreboding, "that girl knows how to look like the innocent flower she is named after, and be the serpent under it."
"Did you know," said his slandered sister, addressing the same lady, and indicating the pair she had basely forsaken, "those are the very two that were with me when I was so badly hurt last summer. Do you wonder that I am glad to escape from them?"
The party drove off amid jests and laughter, while the young ladies, applying their lips once more to a leaf of grass-ribbon each had in her hand, produced such sounds as, according to their father, might, Orpheus-like, have drawn stones and brickbats after them, but from a murderous rather than a magnetic motive.
"I wonder if Rose is really nervous," said Edward, breaking the silence that bound them after the departure of the others.
"I think she is really nonsensical," said Rose's friend, not very blandly.
2012年12月2日星期日
“Oh my dearest
“Oh my dearest. My dearest. My sweetest angel . . . Sarah, Sarah ... oh Sarah.”
A few moments later he lay still. Precisely ninety seconds had passed since he had left her to look into the bedroom.
Chapter 47
Averse, as Dido did with gesture stern
From her false friend’s approach in Hades turn,
Wave us away, and keep thy solitude.
—Matthew Arnold, “The Scholar-Gipsy” (1853)
Silence.
They lay as if paralyzed by what they had done. Congealed in sin, frozen with delight. Charles—no gentle postcoital sadness for him, but an immediate and universal horror—was like a city struck out of a quiet sky by an atom bomb. All lay razed; all principle, all future, all faith, all honorable intent. Yet he survived, he lay in the sweetest possession of his life, the last man alive, infinitely isolated . . . but already the radioactivity of guilt crept, crept through his nerves and veins. In the distant shadows Ernestina stood and stared mournfully at him. Mr. Freeman struck him across the face ... how stone they were, rightly implacable, immovably waiting.
He shifted a little to relieve Sarah of his weight, then turned on his back so that she could lie against him, her head on his shoulder. He stared up at the ceiling. What a mess, what an inutterable mess!
And he held her a little closer. Her hand reached timidly and embraced his. The rain stopped. Heavy footsteps, slow, measured, passed somewhere beneath the window. A police officer, perhaps. The Law.
Charles said, “I am worse than Varguennes.” Her only answer was to press his hand, as if to deny and hush him. But he was a man.
“What is to become of us?”
“I cannot think beyond this hour.”
Again he pressed her shoulders, kissed her forehead; then stared again at the ceiling. She was so young now, so over-whelmed,fake montblanc pens.
“I must break my engagement.”
“I ask nothing of you. I cannot. I am to blame,fake uggs boots.”
“You warned me, you warned me. I am wholly to blame. I knew when I came here ... I chose to be blind. I put all my obligations behind me.”
She murmured, “I wished it so.” She said it again, sadly. “I wished it so.”
For a while he stroked her hair. It fell over her shoulder, her face, veiling her.
“Sarah ... it is the sweetest name.”
She did not answer. A minute passed, his hand smoothing her hair, as if she were a child. But his mind was elsewhere. As if she sensed it, she at last spoke.
“I know you cannot marry me.”
“I must. I wish to. I could never look myself in the face again if I did not.”
“I have been wicked. I have long imagined such a day as this. I am not fit to be your wife,LINK.”
“My dearest—“
“Your position in the world, your friends, your . . . and she—I know she must love you. How should I not know what she feels?”
“But I no longer love her!”
She let his vehemence drain into the silence.
“She is worthy of you. I am not,nike shox torch 2.”
At last he began to take her at her word. He made her turn her head and they looked, in the dim outside light, into each other’s penumbral eyes. His were full of a kind of horror; and hers were calm, faintly smiling.
“You cannot mean I should go away—as if nothing had happened between us?”
A few moments later he lay still. Precisely ninety seconds had passed since he had left her to look into the bedroom.
Chapter 47
Averse, as Dido did with gesture stern
From her false friend’s approach in Hades turn,
Wave us away, and keep thy solitude.
—Matthew Arnold, “The Scholar-Gipsy” (1853)
Silence.
They lay as if paralyzed by what they had done. Congealed in sin, frozen with delight. Charles—no gentle postcoital sadness for him, but an immediate and universal horror—was like a city struck out of a quiet sky by an atom bomb. All lay razed; all principle, all future, all faith, all honorable intent. Yet he survived, he lay in the sweetest possession of his life, the last man alive, infinitely isolated . . . but already the radioactivity of guilt crept, crept through his nerves and veins. In the distant shadows Ernestina stood and stared mournfully at him. Mr. Freeman struck him across the face ... how stone they were, rightly implacable, immovably waiting.
He shifted a little to relieve Sarah of his weight, then turned on his back so that she could lie against him, her head on his shoulder. He stared up at the ceiling. What a mess, what an inutterable mess!
And he held her a little closer. Her hand reached timidly and embraced his. The rain stopped. Heavy footsteps, slow, measured, passed somewhere beneath the window. A police officer, perhaps. The Law.
Charles said, “I am worse than Varguennes.” Her only answer was to press his hand, as if to deny and hush him. But he was a man.
“What is to become of us?”
“I cannot think beyond this hour.”
Again he pressed her shoulders, kissed her forehead; then stared again at the ceiling. She was so young now, so over-whelmed,fake montblanc pens.
“I must break my engagement.”
“I ask nothing of you. I cannot. I am to blame,fake uggs boots.”
“You warned me, you warned me. I am wholly to blame. I knew when I came here ... I chose to be blind. I put all my obligations behind me.”
She murmured, “I wished it so.” She said it again, sadly. “I wished it so.”
For a while he stroked her hair. It fell over her shoulder, her face, veiling her.
“Sarah ... it is the sweetest name.”
She did not answer. A minute passed, his hand smoothing her hair, as if she were a child. But his mind was elsewhere. As if she sensed it, she at last spoke.
“I know you cannot marry me.”
“I must. I wish to. I could never look myself in the face again if I did not.”
“I have been wicked. I have long imagined such a day as this. I am not fit to be your wife,LINK.”
“My dearest—“
“Your position in the world, your friends, your . . . and she—I know she must love you. How should I not know what she feels?”
“But I no longer love her!”
She let his vehemence drain into the silence.
“She is worthy of you. I am not,nike shox torch 2.”
At last he began to take her at her word. He made her turn her head and they looked, in the dim outside light, into each other’s penumbral eyes. His were full of a kind of horror; and hers were calm, faintly smiling.
“You cannot mean I should go away—as if nothing had happened between us?”
But as she was emptying the bottom of the press
But as she was emptying the bottom of the press, after having burned, handful by handful, the papers with which it had been filled, Felicite uttered a stifled cry of triumph.
"Ah, here they are! To the fire! to the fire!"
She had at last come upon the envelopes. Far back, behind the rampart formed by the notes, the doctor had hidden the blue paper wrappers. And then began a mad work of havoc, a fury of destruction; the envelopes were gathered up in handfuls and thrown into the flames, filling the fireplace with a roar like that of a conflagration.
"They are burning, they are burning! They are burning at last! Here is another, Martine, here is another. Ah, what a fire, what a glorious fire!"
But the servant was becoming uneasy.
"Take care, madame, you are going to set the house on fire. Don't you hear that roar?"
"Ah! what does that matter? Let it all burn. They are burning, they are burning; what a fine sight! Three more, two more, and, see, now the last is burning!"
She laughed with delight, beside herself, terrible to see, when some fragment of lighted soot fell down. The roar was becoming more and more fierce; the chimney, which was never swept, had caught fire. This seemed to excite her still more, while the servant, losing her head, began to scream and run about the room.
Clotilde slept beside the dead Pascal, in the supreme calm of the bedroom, unbroken save by the light vibration of the clock striking the hours. The tapers burned with a tall, still flame, the air was motionless. And yet, in the midst of her heavy,replica montblanc pens, dreamless sleep, she heard, as in a nightmare, a tumult, an ever-increasing rush and roar. And when she opened her eyes she could not at first understand. Where was she? Why this enormous weight that crushed her heart? She came back to reality with a start of terror--she saw Pascal, she heard Martine's cries in the adjoining room, and she rushed out, in alarm, to learn their cause.
But at the threshold Clotilde took in the whole scene with cruel distinctness--the press wide open and completely empty; Martine maddened by her fear of fire; Felicite radiant, pushing into the flames with her foot the last fragments of the envelopes,nike shox torch 2. Smoke and flying soot filled the study, where the roaring of the fire sounded like the hoarse gasping of a murdered man--the fierce roar which she had just heard in her sleep.
And the cry which sprang from her lips was the same cry that Pascal himself had uttered on the night of the storm, when he surprised her in the act of stealing his papers.
"Thieves! assassins!"
She precipitated herself toward the fireplace,LINK, and, in spite of the dreadful roaring of the flames, in spite of the falling pieces of soot,Moncler Outlet, at the risk of setting her hair on fire, and of burning her hands, she gathered up the leaves which remained yet unconsumed and bravely extinguished them, pressing them against her. But all this was very little, only some _debris_; not a complete page remained, not even a few fragments of the colossal labor, of the vast and patient work of a lifetime, which the fire had destroyed there in two hours. And with growing anger, in a burst of furious indignation, she cried:
2012年11月26日星期一
little while to catch the ferry
little while to catch the ferry.” He nodded, though he wasn’t completely satisfied by her answer. “Are you mad at me?” “No,” she said. “Are you sorry about what happened?” “No,” she said, “it’s not that, either.” She didn’t, however, add
anything else, and Jeremy pulled her closer, trying to believe her. “It’s an interesting book,” he said, not wanting to press her. “I hope to spend a bit of time with it later.” Lexie smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve looked through it.
Seeing it here brings back memories.” “How so?” She hesitated, then pointed down at the open page in her lap.
“When you were reading it earlier, did you get to this entry?” “No,” he answered. “Read it,” she said. Jeremy read the entry quickly; in many ways, it seemed identi
cal to the others. The first names of the parents, the age, how far along the woman was in her pregnancy. And the fact that the woman would have a girl. When he finished, he looked at her.
“Does it mean anything to you?” she asked.
“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” he admitted.
“The names Jim and Claire don’t mean anything to you?”
“No.” He scrutinized her face. “Should they?”
Lexie lowered her eyes. “They were my parents,” she said, her
voice quiet. “This is the entry that predicted I would be a girl.” Jeremy raised his eyebrows quizzically. “That’s what I was thinking about,” she said. “We think we know each other, but you didn’t even know the names of my parents. And I don’t know the names of your parents.”
Jeremy felt a knot beginning to form in his stomach. “And that bothers you? That you don’t think we know each other that well?”
“No,” she said. “What bothers me is that I don’t know if we ever will.”
Then, with a tenderness that made his heart ache, she wrapped her arms around him. For a long time, they sat in the chair holding each other, both of them wishing they could stay in that moment forever.
Chapter 16
So this is your friend, huh?” Lexie asked.
She gestured discreetly to the holding cell. Although Lexie had lived in Boone Creek all her life, she’d never had the privilege of visiting the county jail—until today.
Jeremy nodded. “He’s not normally like this,” he whispered back.
Earlier in the morning, they had packed their belongings and closed up the beach cottage, each reluctant to leave it behind. But when they drove off the ferry in Swan Quarter, Jeremy’s cell phone picked up enough signal strength to retrieve his messages. Nate had left four of them about the upcoming meeting; Alvin, on the other hand, had left a frantic one saying that he’d been arrested.
Lexie had dropped Jeremy off at his car, and he’d followed her back to Boone Creek, worried about Alvin, but worried about Lexie as well. Lexie’s disconcerting mood, which had started in the predawn darkness, had continued for the next few hours. Though she hadn’t pulled away when he slipped his arm around her on the ferry, she’d been quiet, gazing at the waters of the Pamlico Sound. When she smiled, it was only a flicker, and when he took her hand, she didn’t squeeze his. Nor would she talk about what she’d said to him earlier; strangely, she spoke instead about the numerous shipwrecks off the coast, and when he did try to steer the conversation toward more serious issues, she either changed the subject or didn’t answer at all.
anything else, and Jeremy pulled her closer, trying to believe her. “It’s an interesting book,” he said, not wanting to press her. “I hope to spend a bit of time with it later.” Lexie smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve looked through it.
Seeing it here brings back memories.” “How so?” She hesitated, then pointed down at the open page in her lap.
“When you were reading it earlier, did you get to this entry?” “No,” he answered. “Read it,” she said. Jeremy read the entry quickly; in many ways, it seemed identi
cal to the others. The first names of the parents, the age, how far along the woman was in her pregnancy. And the fact that the woman would have a girl. When he finished, he looked at her.
“Does it mean anything to you?” she asked.
“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” he admitted.
“The names Jim and Claire don’t mean anything to you?”
“No.” He scrutinized her face. “Should they?”
Lexie lowered her eyes. “They were my parents,” she said, her
voice quiet. “This is the entry that predicted I would be a girl.” Jeremy raised his eyebrows quizzically. “That’s what I was thinking about,” she said. “We think we know each other, but you didn’t even know the names of my parents. And I don’t know the names of your parents.”
Jeremy felt a knot beginning to form in his stomach. “And that bothers you? That you don’t think we know each other that well?”
“No,” she said. “What bothers me is that I don’t know if we ever will.”
Then, with a tenderness that made his heart ache, she wrapped her arms around him. For a long time, they sat in the chair holding each other, both of them wishing they could stay in that moment forever.
Chapter 16
So this is your friend, huh?” Lexie asked.
She gestured discreetly to the holding cell. Although Lexie had lived in Boone Creek all her life, she’d never had the privilege of visiting the county jail—until today.
Jeremy nodded. “He’s not normally like this,” he whispered back.
Earlier in the morning, they had packed their belongings and closed up the beach cottage, each reluctant to leave it behind. But when they drove off the ferry in Swan Quarter, Jeremy’s cell phone picked up enough signal strength to retrieve his messages. Nate had left four of them about the upcoming meeting; Alvin, on the other hand, had left a frantic one saying that he’d been arrested.
Lexie had dropped Jeremy off at his car, and he’d followed her back to Boone Creek, worried about Alvin, but worried about Lexie as well. Lexie’s disconcerting mood, which had started in the predawn darkness, had continued for the next few hours. Though she hadn’t pulled away when he slipped his arm around her on the ferry, she’d been quiet, gazing at the waters of the Pamlico Sound. When she smiled, it was only a flicker, and when he took her hand, she didn’t squeeze his. Nor would she talk about what she’d said to him earlier; strangely, she spoke instead about the numerous shipwrecks off the coast, and when he did try to steer the conversation toward more serious issues, she either changed the subject or didn’t answer at all.
My face starts to calculate Pi
My face starts to calculate Pi. 'Uh - I ain't sure who she sent it to …'
'You have the password?' asks the guy. Fuck. I feel more people line up behind me.
'I better call and get it,' I say, shuffling away from the counter.
Folk look at me strangely, so I keep on shuffling, right out of the store; out of the freezer, back into the fucken oven. I have to get hold of Taylor. Maybe she didn't send it, once she knew about the password. I have no points left on my phonecard. I can't even call Pelayo. Vegas sputters and dies in my ass.
I walk up the boulevard until I find a phone. I don't know if it's like TV, where you can call anybody collect, from anywhere. I decide to call her collect. Sweat flows between my mouth and the operator when I talk. She speaks English at least. Then sweat runs between my ear and the operator when she tells me you can't call this mobile number collect. When I hang up the phone, sweat dammed on top of my ear crashes onto my fucken shoulder, then runs crying onto the road. Probably back into the fucken sea after that.
It pisses me the hell off, actually, that all the well-raised liars and cheats will go to their regular beds tonight, with no greater worry than what they can screw out of their folks tomorrow. Me, I'm stuck in Surinam with a bunch of criminal charges forming an orderly line back home. Anger fuels me back to the store, up to the agent's desk. Nobody else is around right now. The clerk looks up.
'I can't find the password,' I tell him.
'What's your name?'
'Vernon Little.' I wait for his eyebrows to blow off his fucken head. They don't. He just studies me for a moment.
'How much you expecting?'
'Six hundred dollars.'
The guy taps at his keyboard, checks his screen. Then shakes his head. 'Sorry, nothing here.' I pause for a moment, to calculate the depth of my fuckedness. Then the agent's eyes rivet to something over my shoulder.
I'm suddenly grabbed around the waist. 'Freeze!' says a voice.
Chapter 18
My ass jumps into my throat. I break the grip around my waist and spin toward the entrance, legs coiled like springs. Shoppers stop and stare.
'Happy Birthday!' It's fucken Taylor.
I spin a full circle, looking for the heavies who must be here to get me. But it's only Taylor. The clerk at the wire agent's counter smiles as she wraps an arm around my waist, and leads me shaking from the store.
'You didn't wait for the wire details, like the password, dummy,' she says.
'Uh-huh, so you hopped a fucken plane.'
'Language, killer!'
'Sorry.'
'Well I couldn't leave you stranded. Anyway, I'm bummed back home, and this is my vacation money - I hope you don't mind sharing. Here's three hundred, and we'll work the math out later …'
'I'll try to cope. How'd you know it's my birthday?'
'Hell-o? The whole world knows it's your birthday.'
The reality of what's happening starts to tingle in my brain. Taylor's here. I found a beach-house, and Taylor's here, with money. One thing to be proud of: I don't respond to the flood of joy-hormones, the one that makes you want to sniff flowers, or say I love you. I contain myself like a man.
'You have the password?' asks the guy. Fuck. I feel more people line up behind me.
'I better call and get it,' I say, shuffling away from the counter.
Folk look at me strangely, so I keep on shuffling, right out of the store; out of the freezer, back into the fucken oven. I have to get hold of Taylor. Maybe she didn't send it, once she knew about the password. I have no points left on my phonecard. I can't even call Pelayo. Vegas sputters and dies in my ass.
I walk up the boulevard until I find a phone. I don't know if it's like TV, where you can call anybody collect, from anywhere. I decide to call her collect. Sweat flows between my mouth and the operator when I talk. She speaks English at least. Then sweat runs between my ear and the operator when she tells me you can't call this mobile number collect. When I hang up the phone, sweat dammed on top of my ear crashes onto my fucken shoulder, then runs crying onto the road. Probably back into the fucken sea after that.
It pisses me the hell off, actually, that all the well-raised liars and cheats will go to their regular beds tonight, with no greater worry than what they can screw out of their folks tomorrow. Me, I'm stuck in Surinam with a bunch of criminal charges forming an orderly line back home. Anger fuels me back to the store, up to the agent's desk. Nobody else is around right now. The clerk looks up.
'I can't find the password,' I tell him.
'What's your name?'
'Vernon Little.' I wait for his eyebrows to blow off his fucken head. They don't. He just studies me for a moment.
'How much you expecting?'
'Six hundred dollars.'
The guy taps at his keyboard, checks his screen. Then shakes his head. 'Sorry, nothing here.' I pause for a moment, to calculate the depth of my fuckedness. Then the agent's eyes rivet to something over my shoulder.
I'm suddenly grabbed around the waist. 'Freeze!' says a voice.
Chapter 18
My ass jumps into my throat. I break the grip around my waist and spin toward the entrance, legs coiled like springs. Shoppers stop and stare.
'Happy Birthday!' It's fucken Taylor.
I spin a full circle, looking for the heavies who must be here to get me. But it's only Taylor. The clerk at the wire agent's counter smiles as she wraps an arm around my waist, and leads me shaking from the store.
'You didn't wait for the wire details, like the password, dummy,' she says.
'Uh-huh, so you hopped a fucken plane.'
'Language, killer!'
'Sorry.'
'Well I couldn't leave you stranded. Anyway, I'm bummed back home, and this is my vacation money - I hope you don't mind sharing. Here's three hundred, and we'll work the math out later …'
'I'll try to cope. How'd you know it's my birthday?'
'Hell-o? The whole world knows it's your birthday.'
The reality of what's happening starts to tingle in my brain. Taylor's here. I found a beach-house, and Taylor's here, with money. One thing to be proud of: I don't respond to the flood of joy-hormones, the one that makes you want to sniff flowers, or say I love you. I contain myself like a man.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow. Or the day after. The cracks will be waiting for August 15th. There is still a little time: I'll finish tomorrow.
Today I gave myself the day off and visited Mary. A long hot dusty bus-ride through streets beginning to bubble with the excitement of the coming Independence Day, although I can smell other, more tarnished perfumes: disillusion, venality, cynicism ... the nearly-thirty-one-year-old myth of freedom is no longer what it was. New myths are needed; but that's none of my business.
Mary Pereira, who now calls herself Mrs Braganza, lives with her sister Alice, now Mrs Fernandas, in an apartment in the pink obelisk of the Narlikar women on the two-storey hillock where once, in a demolished palace, she slept on a servant's mat. Her bedroom occupies more or less the same cube of air in which a fisherman's pointing finger led a pair of boyish eyes out towards the horizon; in a teak rocking-chair, Mary rocks my son, singing 'Red Sails In The Sunset'.
Red dhow-sails spread against the distant sky.
A pleasant enough day, on which old days are recalled. The day when I realized that an old cactus-bed had survived the revolution of the Narlikar women, and borrowing a spade from the mail, dug up a long-buried world: a tin globe containing yellowed ant-eaten jumbo-size baby-snap, credited to Kalidas Gupta, and a Prime Minister's letter. And days further off: for the dozenth time we chatter about the change in Mary Pereira's fortunes. How she owed it all to her dear Alice. Whose poor Mr Fernandes died of colour-blindness, having become confused, in his old Ford Prefect, at one of the city's then-few traffic lights.
How Alice visited her in Goa with the news that her employers, the fearsome and enterprising Narlikar women, were willing to put some of their tetrapod-money into a pickle firm. 'I told them, nobody makes achar-chutney like our Mary,'
Alice had said, with perfect accuracy, 'because she puts her feelings inside them.' So Alice turned out to be a good girl in the end. And baba, what do you think, how could I believe the whole world would want to eat my poor pickles, even in England they eat. And now, just think, I sit here where your dear house used to be, while God-knows what-all has happened to you, living like a beggar so long, what a world, baapu-re! And bitter-sweet lamentations: O, your poor mummy-daddy! That fine madam, dead! And the poor man, never knowing who loved him or how to love! And even the Monkey... but I interrupt, no, not dead: no, not true, not dead. Secretly, in a nunnery, eating bread.
Mary, who has stolen the name of poor Queen Catharine who gave these islands to the British, taught me the secrets of the pickling process. (Finishing an education which began in this very air-space when I stood in a kitchen as she stirred guilt into green chutney.) Now she sits at home, retired in her white-haired old-age, once more happy as an ayah with a baby to raise. 'Now you finished your writing-writing, baba, you should take more time for your son.'
But Mary, I did it for him. And she, switching the subject, because her mind makes all sorts of flea-jumps these days: 'O baba, baba, look at you, how old you got already!'
Today I gave myself the day off and visited Mary. A long hot dusty bus-ride through streets beginning to bubble with the excitement of the coming Independence Day, although I can smell other, more tarnished perfumes: disillusion, venality, cynicism ... the nearly-thirty-one-year-old myth of freedom is no longer what it was. New myths are needed; but that's none of my business.
Mary Pereira, who now calls herself Mrs Braganza, lives with her sister Alice, now Mrs Fernandas, in an apartment in the pink obelisk of the Narlikar women on the two-storey hillock where once, in a demolished palace, she slept on a servant's mat. Her bedroom occupies more or less the same cube of air in which a fisherman's pointing finger led a pair of boyish eyes out towards the horizon; in a teak rocking-chair, Mary rocks my son, singing 'Red Sails In The Sunset'.
Red dhow-sails spread against the distant sky.
A pleasant enough day, on which old days are recalled. The day when I realized that an old cactus-bed had survived the revolution of the Narlikar women, and borrowing a spade from the mail, dug up a long-buried world: a tin globe containing yellowed ant-eaten jumbo-size baby-snap, credited to Kalidas Gupta, and a Prime Minister's letter. And days further off: for the dozenth time we chatter about the change in Mary Pereira's fortunes. How she owed it all to her dear Alice. Whose poor Mr Fernandes died of colour-blindness, having become confused, in his old Ford Prefect, at one of the city's then-few traffic lights.
How Alice visited her in Goa with the news that her employers, the fearsome and enterprising Narlikar women, were willing to put some of their tetrapod-money into a pickle firm. 'I told them, nobody makes achar-chutney like our Mary,'
Alice had said, with perfect accuracy, 'because she puts her feelings inside them.' So Alice turned out to be a good girl in the end. And baba, what do you think, how could I believe the whole world would want to eat my poor pickles, even in England they eat. And now, just think, I sit here where your dear house used to be, while God-knows what-all has happened to you, living like a beggar so long, what a world, baapu-re! And bitter-sweet lamentations: O, your poor mummy-daddy! That fine madam, dead! And the poor man, never knowing who loved him or how to love! And even the Monkey... but I interrupt, no, not dead: no, not true, not dead. Secretly, in a nunnery, eating bread.
Mary, who has stolen the name of poor Queen Catharine who gave these islands to the British, taught me the secrets of the pickling process. (Finishing an education which began in this very air-space when I stood in a kitchen as she stirred guilt into green chutney.) Now she sits at home, retired in her white-haired old-age, once more happy as an ayah with a baby to raise. 'Now you finished your writing-writing, baba, you should take more time for your son.'
But Mary, I did it for him. And she, switching the subject, because her mind makes all sorts of flea-jumps these days: 'O baba, baba, look at you, how old you got already!'
2012年11月25日星期日
he’d begun to stick his nose into our affairs
‘Well, he’d begun to stick his nose into our affairs, you see. Julia spotted he was a fake, and one afternoon when Sebastian was tight - he was tight most of the time - she got the whole story of the Grand Tour out of him. And that was the end of Mr Samgrass. After that the Marchioness began to think she might have been a bit rough with you.’
‘And what about the row with Cordelia?’
‘That eclipsed everything. That kid’s a walking marvel - she’d been feeding Sebastian whisky right under our noses for a week. We couldn’t think where he was getting it. That’s when the Marchioness finally crumbled.’
The soup was delicious after the rich blinis - hot, thin, bitter, frothy. ‘I’ll tell you a thing, Charles, that Ma Marchmain hasn’t let on to anyone. She’s a very sick woman. Might peg out any minute,homepage. George Anstruther saw her in the autumn and put it at two years.’
‘How on earth do you know?’
‘It’s the kind of thing I hear. With the way her family are going on at the moment, I wouldn’t give her a year. I know just the man for her in Vienna. He put Sonia Bamfshire on her feet when everyone including Anstruther had despaired of her. But Ma Marchmain won’t do anything about it. I suppose it’s something to do with her crackbrain religion, not to take care of the body.’
The sole was so simple and unobtrusive that Rex failed to notice it. We ate to the music of the press - the crunch of the bones, the drip of blood and marrow the tap of the spoon basting the thin slices of breast. There was a pause here of a quarter of an hour, while I drank the first glass of the Clos de Bèze and Rex smoked his first cigarette. He leaned back, blew a cloud of smoke across the table, and remarked, ‘You know, the food here isn’t half bad; someone ought to take this place up and make something of it.’
Presently he began again on the Marchmains:
‘I’ll tell you another thing, too - they’ll get a jolt financially soon if they don’t look out.’
‘I thought they were enormously rich,knockoff handbags.’
‘Well, they are rich in the way people are who just let their money sit quiet. Everyone of that sort is poorer than they were in 1914, and the Flytes don’t seem to realize it. I reckon those lawyers who manage their affairs find it convenient to give them all the cash they want and no questions asked. Look at the way they live - Brideshead and Marchmain House both going full blast, pack of foxhounds, no rents raised, nobody sacked, dozens of old servants doing damn all, being waited on by other servants, and then besides all that there’s the old boy setting up a separate establishment - and setting it up on no humble scale either. D’you know how much they’re overdrawn?’ ‘Of course I don’t.’
‘Jolly near a hundred thousand in London. I don’t know what they owe elsewhere. Well, that’s quite a packet, you know, for people who aren’t using their money,ugg bailey button triplet 1873 boots. Ninety-eight thousand last November. It’s the kind of thing I hear.’ Those were the kind of things he heard, mortal illness and debt, I thought. I rejoiced in the Burgundy. It seemed a, reminder that the world was an older, and better place than Rex knew, that mankind in its long passion had learned another wisdom than his. By chance I met this same wine again, lunching with my wine merchant in St James’s Street, in the first autumn of the war; it had softened and faded in the intervening years, but it still spoke in the pure, authentic accent of its prime, the same words of hope,nike shox torch 2.
‘And what about the row with Cordelia?’
‘That eclipsed everything. That kid’s a walking marvel - she’d been feeding Sebastian whisky right under our noses for a week. We couldn’t think where he was getting it. That’s when the Marchioness finally crumbled.’
The soup was delicious after the rich blinis - hot, thin, bitter, frothy. ‘I’ll tell you a thing, Charles, that Ma Marchmain hasn’t let on to anyone. She’s a very sick woman. Might peg out any minute,homepage. George Anstruther saw her in the autumn and put it at two years.’
‘How on earth do you know?’
‘It’s the kind of thing I hear. With the way her family are going on at the moment, I wouldn’t give her a year. I know just the man for her in Vienna. He put Sonia Bamfshire on her feet when everyone including Anstruther had despaired of her. But Ma Marchmain won’t do anything about it. I suppose it’s something to do with her crackbrain religion, not to take care of the body.’
The sole was so simple and unobtrusive that Rex failed to notice it. We ate to the music of the press - the crunch of the bones, the drip of blood and marrow the tap of the spoon basting the thin slices of breast. There was a pause here of a quarter of an hour, while I drank the first glass of the Clos de Bèze and Rex smoked his first cigarette. He leaned back, blew a cloud of smoke across the table, and remarked, ‘You know, the food here isn’t half bad; someone ought to take this place up and make something of it.’
Presently he began again on the Marchmains:
‘I’ll tell you another thing, too - they’ll get a jolt financially soon if they don’t look out.’
‘I thought they were enormously rich,knockoff handbags.’
‘Well, they are rich in the way people are who just let their money sit quiet. Everyone of that sort is poorer than they were in 1914, and the Flytes don’t seem to realize it. I reckon those lawyers who manage their affairs find it convenient to give them all the cash they want and no questions asked. Look at the way they live - Brideshead and Marchmain House both going full blast, pack of foxhounds, no rents raised, nobody sacked, dozens of old servants doing damn all, being waited on by other servants, and then besides all that there’s the old boy setting up a separate establishment - and setting it up on no humble scale either. D’you know how much they’re overdrawn?’ ‘Of course I don’t.’
‘Jolly near a hundred thousand in London. I don’t know what they owe elsewhere. Well, that’s quite a packet, you know, for people who aren’t using their money,ugg bailey button triplet 1873 boots. Ninety-eight thousand last November. It’s the kind of thing I hear.’ Those were the kind of things he heard, mortal illness and debt, I thought. I rejoiced in the Burgundy. It seemed a, reminder that the world was an older, and better place than Rex knew, that mankind in its long passion had learned another wisdom than his. By chance I met this same wine again, lunching with my wine merchant in St James’s Street, in the first autumn of the war; it had softened and faded in the intervening years, but it still spoke in the pure, authentic accent of its prime, the same words of hope,nike shox torch 2.
And then the moon got up
And then the moon got up,moncler jackets men; and Sir Henry felt lonely and sentimental. He leant over the vessel's side, and watched it pictured on the ocean, and quivering as the transient billow swept onwards. And he thought of home, and Emily. He thought of his brother, his heir,--if he died, the only male to inherit the ancient honours of his house,--married to a stranger,Replica Designer Handbags, and--but Acme was too sweet a being, not to have already enlisted all his sympathies with her. And as if all these thoughts, like rays converged in a burning glass, did but tend to one object, the image of Julia Vernon suddenly rose before him.
He saw her beautiful as ever--gentleness in her eye--fascination in her smile!
And the air got cold--and he went to bed.
Part 1 Chapter 19 A Dream and a Ghost Story
"Touching this eye-creation;
What is it to surprise us? Here we are
Engendered out of nothing cognisable--
If this were not a wonder, nothing is;
If this be wonderful, then all is so.
Man's grosser attributes can generate
What is not, and has never been at all;
What should forbid his fancy to restore
A being pass'd away? The wonder lies
In the mind merely of the wondering man."
It was the fourth evening of the voyage. Hardly a breath fanned the sails, as the vessel slowly glided between the Calabrian and Sicilian coasts, approaching quite close to the former.
The party, seated on chairs placed on the deck, gazed in a spirit of placid enjoyment on one of those scenes, which the enthusiastic traveller often recals, as in his native clime,fake uggs boots, he pines for foreign lands, and for novel impressions. The sun was setting over the purple peaks of the Calabrian mountains, smiling in sunny gladness on deep ravines, whose echoes few human feet now woke, save those of simple peasant, or lawless bandit. Where the orb of day held its declining course, the sky wore a hue of burnished gold,UGG Clerance; its rich tint alone varied, by one fleecy violet cloud, whose outline of rounded beauty, was marked by a clear cincture of white,
On their right, beneath the mountain, lay the little village of Capo del Marte, a perfect specimen of Italian scenery.
Its sandy beach, against which the tide beat in dalliance--the chafed spray catching and reflecting the glories of the setting sun--ran smoothly up a slope of some thirty yards; beyond which, the orange trees, in their greenest foliage, chequered with their shade the white cottages scattered above them.
The busy hum of the fishermen on the coast--the splash of the casting net--and the drip of the oar--were appropriate accompaniments to the simple scene.
On the Sicilian side, a different view wooed attention. There, old Etna upreared his encumbered head, around which the smoke clung in dense majesty; and--not contemptible rivals of the declining deity--the moon's silvery crescent, and the evening star's quiet splendour, were bedecking the cloudless blue of the firmament.
Acme gazed enraptured on the scene--her long tresses hanging back on the chair, across which one hand was languidly thrown.
"Giorgio," said she, "do you see this beautiful bird close to the ship--swimming so steadily--its snowy plumage apparently unwet from its contact with the wave? To what can you compare it?"
He saw her beautiful as ever--gentleness in her eye--fascination in her smile!
And the air got cold--and he went to bed.
Part 1 Chapter 19 A Dream and a Ghost Story
"Touching this eye-creation;
What is it to surprise us? Here we are
Engendered out of nothing cognisable--
If this were not a wonder, nothing is;
If this be wonderful, then all is so.
Man's grosser attributes can generate
What is not, and has never been at all;
What should forbid his fancy to restore
A being pass'd away? The wonder lies
In the mind merely of the wondering man."
It was the fourth evening of the voyage. Hardly a breath fanned the sails, as the vessel slowly glided between the Calabrian and Sicilian coasts, approaching quite close to the former.
The party, seated on chairs placed on the deck, gazed in a spirit of placid enjoyment on one of those scenes, which the enthusiastic traveller often recals, as in his native clime,fake uggs boots, he pines for foreign lands, and for novel impressions. The sun was setting over the purple peaks of the Calabrian mountains, smiling in sunny gladness on deep ravines, whose echoes few human feet now woke, save those of simple peasant, or lawless bandit. Where the orb of day held its declining course, the sky wore a hue of burnished gold,UGG Clerance; its rich tint alone varied, by one fleecy violet cloud, whose outline of rounded beauty, was marked by a clear cincture of white,
On their right, beneath the mountain, lay the little village of Capo del Marte, a perfect specimen of Italian scenery.
Its sandy beach, against which the tide beat in dalliance--the chafed spray catching and reflecting the glories of the setting sun--ran smoothly up a slope of some thirty yards; beyond which, the orange trees, in their greenest foliage, chequered with their shade the white cottages scattered above them.
The busy hum of the fishermen on the coast--the splash of the casting net--and the drip of the oar--were appropriate accompaniments to the simple scene.
On the Sicilian side, a different view wooed attention. There, old Etna upreared his encumbered head, around which the smoke clung in dense majesty; and--not contemptible rivals of the declining deity--the moon's silvery crescent, and the evening star's quiet splendour, were bedecking the cloudless blue of the firmament.
Acme gazed enraptured on the scene--her long tresses hanging back on the chair, across which one hand was languidly thrown.
"Giorgio," said she, "do you see this beautiful bird close to the ship--swimming so steadily--its snowy plumage apparently unwet from its contact with the wave? To what can you compare it?"
2012年11月23日星期五
I just meant your hand
"I just meant your hand. It's all gouged up."
"The universe was born in violence. Stars die violently. Elements are created out of cosmic violence."
"Gary, this is football."
"I'm just fooling around, Jeff. I'm not serious."
"This team can come back. That's what all the pain and the struggle was for back there last summer. To give us the character to come back."
"Quite right."
"I believe in Coach," Jeff said. "He'll tell us what to do. Wait till half time. Coach will make adjustments."
Telcon hit his tight end near the sideline for twelve. Champ Conway came off holding his left shoulder and John Butler replaced him. Telcon completed two, missed one, hit one. He shook off Link Brownlee and threw to one of his backs who was just lounging around in the flat. The man took it all the way to our 17 before Bobby Luke caught him from behind. They picked up two on the ground, not very stylishly, Kidd and Lowry driving the ballcarrier back about ten yards while the official chased them blowing Ms whistle. Telcon overthrew a man in the end zone. Then he hit number 29 coming out of the backfield. Butler and Billy Mast put him down at the 9. They called time and Telcon looked toward his bench. Their head coach, Jade Kiley, turned to one of his assistants and said something. I looked at the clock. The fieldgoal team came on. Hauptfuhrer started shouting at the defense, howling at them. His face was contorted, squeezed into tense pieces. Sound of lamentation. It drifted across the clear night to all bright creatures curled beneath the moon.
"Look out for the fake. Look out for the faaaaake. Aaaaaake. Aaaaaake. Aaaaaake."
They made the field goal. Bobby Iselin returned the kickoff to the 24. We all hurried out
"Bed," Jerry Fallon said. "Pillow, sheet, blanket, mattress, spring, frame, headboard."
Hobbs hit Chuck Deering on a ponyout fcr nine. He worked the other sideline and Spurgeon Cole was forced out after picking up thirteen. The bench was shouting encouragement. Hobbs came back with an oppflux draw to Taft that picked up only two. He called time and went over to talk to Creed. I got my cleats scraped clean and watched Hobbs come trotting back; he seemed to have the answer to everything. I swung behind Deering, who was running a Qroute to clear out the area, and then I fanned toward the sideline and turned. The ball looked beautiful. It seemed overly large and bright. I could see it with perfect clarity. I backed up half a step, leaning with the ball. Then I had it and turned upfield. Somebody grabbed my ankle but I kicked away and picked up speed again, being sure to stay near the sideline. Two of them moved in now. They had the angle on me and I stepped out of bounds, I got hit and dropped and hit again. I came up swinging. Somebody pulled my jersey and I was kicked two or three times in the leg. I realized this was their side of the field. Fallon and Jessup pulled me awa The roughing cost them fifteen and that moved the bí inside their 20. Hobbs hit Cole on a spoonout to the 1 and we called time. He went off to confer with Cree again. Ron Steeples, who'd been knocked unconscious i the first quarter, came running in now to replace Chuc. Peering. He was happy to be back. The scent of gras and dirt filled my nostrils. Hobbs returned and we hud died. His primary receiver was Jessup on a shadowcoun? delay over the middle. I went into motion and the ball was snapped. I watched Jessup fake a block and come off the line. Hobbs looked to his left, pumpfaked, turned toward Jessup and fired. The ball went off Jessup's hand and right to their free safety, 46, who was standing on the goal line. We all stood around watching, either starüed or pensive, trying to retrace events. Then 46 decided to take off, evading Kimbrough and Rector, cutting inside me. I went after him at top speed. At the 30yard line I became aware of something behind me, slightly off to the side. White and green and coming on. Then it was past me, 22, Taft Robinson, running deftly and silently, a remarkable clockwork intactness, smoothly touring, no waste or independent movement. I didn't believe a man could run that fast or well. I slowed down and took off my helmet. Taft caught 46 just the other side of midfield, hitting him below the shoulders and then rolling off and getting to his feet in one motion. I stood there watching. The gun sounded and we all headed for the tunnel.
"The universe was born in violence. Stars die violently. Elements are created out of cosmic violence."
"Gary, this is football."
"I'm just fooling around, Jeff. I'm not serious."
"This team can come back. That's what all the pain and the struggle was for back there last summer. To give us the character to come back."
"Quite right."
"I believe in Coach," Jeff said. "He'll tell us what to do. Wait till half time. Coach will make adjustments."
Telcon hit his tight end near the sideline for twelve. Champ Conway came off holding his left shoulder and John Butler replaced him. Telcon completed two, missed one, hit one. He shook off Link Brownlee and threw to one of his backs who was just lounging around in the flat. The man took it all the way to our 17 before Bobby Luke caught him from behind. They picked up two on the ground, not very stylishly, Kidd and Lowry driving the ballcarrier back about ten yards while the official chased them blowing Ms whistle. Telcon overthrew a man in the end zone. Then he hit number 29 coming out of the backfield. Butler and Billy Mast put him down at the 9. They called time and Telcon looked toward his bench. Their head coach, Jade Kiley, turned to one of his assistants and said something. I looked at the clock. The fieldgoal team came on. Hauptfuhrer started shouting at the defense, howling at them. His face was contorted, squeezed into tense pieces. Sound of lamentation. It drifted across the clear night to all bright creatures curled beneath the moon.
"Look out for the fake. Look out for the faaaaake. Aaaaaake. Aaaaaake. Aaaaaake."
They made the field goal. Bobby Iselin returned the kickoff to the 24. We all hurried out
"Bed," Jerry Fallon said. "Pillow, sheet, blanket, mattress, spring, frame, headboard."
Hobbs hit Chuck Deering on a ponyout fcr nine. He worked the other sideline and Spurgeon Cole was forced out after picking up thirteen. The bench was shouting encouragement. Hobbs came back with an oppflux draw to Taft that picked up only two. He called time and went over to talk to Creed. I got my cleats scraped clean and watched Hobbs come trotting back; he seemed to have the answer to everything. I swung behind Deering, who was running a Qroute to clear out the area, and then I fanned toward the sideline and turned. The ball looked beautiful. It seemed overly large and bright. I could see it with perfect clarity. I backed up half a step, leaning with the ball. Then I had it and turned upfield. Somebody grabbed my ankle but I kicked away and picked up speed again, being sure to stay near the sideline. Two of them moved in now. They had the angle on me and I stepped out of bounds, I got hit and dropped and hit again. I came up swinging. Somebody pulled my jersey and I was kicked two or three times in the leg. I realized this was their side of the field. Fallon and Jessup pulled me awa The roughing cost them fifteen and that moved the bí inside their 20. Hobbs hit Cole on a spoonout to the 1 and we called time. He went off to confer with Cree again. Ron Steeples, who'd been knocked unconscious i the first quarter, came running in now to replace Chuc. Peering. He was happy to be back. The scent of gras and dirt filled my nostrils. Hobbs returned and we hud died. His primary receiver was Jessup on a shadowcoun? delay over the middle. I went into motion and the ball was snapped. I watched Jessup fake a block and come off the line. Hobbs looked to his left, pumpfaked, turned toward Jessup and fired. The ball went off Jessup's hand and right to their free safety, 46, who was standing on the goal line. We all stood around watching, either starüed or pensive, trying to retrace events. Then 46 decided to take off, evading Kimbrough and Rector, cutting inside me. I went after him at top speed. At the 30yard line I became aware of something behind me, slightly off to the side. White and green and coming on. Then it was past me, 22, Taft Robinson, running deftly and silently, a remarkable clockwork intactness, smoothly touring, no waste or independent movement. I didn't believe a man could run that fast or well. I slowed down and took off my helmet. Taft caught 46 just the other side of midfield, hitting him below the shoulders and then rolling off and getting to his feet in one motion. I stood there watching. The gun sounded and we all headed for the tunnel.
It's from mother
"It's from mother," said Blandford. "I'll read you the funny part of it. She tells me all the neighborhood news first, of course, and then cautions me against getting my feet wet and musical comedies. After that come some vital statistics about calves and pigs and an estimate of the wheat crop. And now I'll quote some:
"'And what do you think! Old Uncle Jake, who was seventy-six last Wednesday, must go travelling. Nothing would do but he must go to New York and see his "young Marster Blandford." Old as he is, he has a deal of common sense, so I've let him go. I couldn't refuse him--he seemed to have concentrated all his hopes and desires into this one adventure into the wide world. You know he was born on the plantation, and has never been ten miles away from it in his life. And he was your father's body servant during the war, and has been always a faithful vassal and servant of the family. He has often seen the gold watch--the watch that was your father's and your father's father's. I told him it was to be yours, And he begged me to allow him to take it to you and to put it into your hands himself.
"'So he has it, carefully inclosed in a buck-skin case, and is bringing it to you with all the pride and importance of a king's messenger. I gave him money for the round trip and for a two weeks' stay in the city. I wish you would see to it that he gets comfortable quarters--Jake won't need much looking after--he's able to take care of himself. But I have read in the papers that African bishops and colored potentates generally have much trouble in obtaining food and lodging in the Yankee metropolis. That may be all right; but I don't see why the best hotel there shouldn't take Jake in. Still, I suppose it's a rule.
"'I gave him full directions about finding you, and packed his valise myself. You won't have to bother with him; but I do hope you'll see that he is made comfortable. Take the watch that he brings you--it's almost a decoration. It has been worn by true Carterets, and there isn't a stain upon it nor a false movement of the wheels. Bringing it to you is the crowning joy of old Jake's life. I wanted him to have that little outing and that happiness before it is too late. You have often heard us talk about how Jake, pretty badly wounded himself, crawled through the reddened grass at Chancellorsville to where your father lay with the bullet in his dear heart, and took the watch from his pocket to keep it from the "Yanks."
"'So, my son, when the old man comes consider him as a frail but worthy messenger from the old-time life and home.
"'You have been so long away from home and so long among the people that we have always regarded as aliens that I'm not sure that Jake will know you when he sees you. But Jake has a keen perception, and I rather believe that he will know a Virginia Carteret at sight. I can't conceive that even ten years in Yankee-land could change a boy of mine. Anyhow, I'm sure you will know Jake. I put eighteen collars in his valise. If he should have to buy others, he wears a number 15 1/2. Please see that he gets the right ones. He will be no trouble to you at all.
"'And what do you think! Old Uncle Jake, who was seventy-six last Wednesday, must go travelling. Nothing would do but he must go to New York and see his "young Marster Blandford." Old as he is, he has a deal of common sense, so I've let him go. I couldn't refuse him--he seemed to have concentrated all his hopes and desires into this one adventure into the wide world. You know he was born on the plantation, and has never been ten miles away from it in his life. And he was your father's body servant during the war, and has been always a faithful vassal and servant of the family. He has often seen the gold watch--the watch that was your father's and your father's father's. I told him it was to be yours, And he begged me to allow him to take it to you and to put it into your hands himself.
"'So he has it, carefully inclosed in a buck-skin case, and is bringing it to you with all the pride and importance of a king's messenger. I gave him money for the round trip and for a two weeks' stay in the city. I wish you would see to it that he gets comfortable quarters--Jake won't need much looking after--he's able to take care of himself. But I have read in the papers that African bishops and colored potentates generally have much trouble in obtaining food and lodging in the Yankee metropolis. That may be all right; but I don't see why the best hotel there shouldn't take Jake in. Still, I suppose it's a rule.
"'I gave him full directions about finding you, and packed his valise myself. You won't have to bother with him; but I do hope you'll see that he is made comfortable. Take the watch that he brings you--it's almost a decoration. It has been worn by true Carterets, and there isn't a stain upon it nor a false movement of the wheels. Bringing it to you is the crowning joy of old Jake's life. I wanted him to have that little outing and that happiness before it is too late. You have often heard us talk about how Jake, pretty badly wounded himself, crawled through the reddened grass at Chancellorsville to where your father lay with the bullet in his dear heart, and took the watch from his pocket to keep it from the "Yanks."
"'So, my son, when the old man comes consider him as a frail but worthy messenger from the old-time life and home.
"'You have been so long away from home and so long among the people that we have always regarded as aliens that I'm not sure that Jake will know you when he sees you. But Jake has a keen perception, and I rather believe that he will know a Virginia Carteret at sight. I can't conceive that even ten years in Yankee-land could change a boy of mine. Anyhow, I'm sure you will know Jake. I put eighteen collars in his valise. If he should have to buy others, he wears a number 15 1/2. Please see that he gets the right ones. He will be no trouble to you at all.
2012年11月22日星期四
Thinking
Thinking, perhaps, as he rode, that even this trivial sketch had been made and delivered to its owner, as if it had been bargained for and bought. Thinking, perhaps, that although she had assented with such perfect readiness to his request, her haughty face, bent over the drawing, or glancing at the distant objects represented in it, had been the face of a proud woman, engaged in a sordid and miserable transaction. Thinking, perhaps, of such things: but smiling certainly, and while he seemed to look about him freely, in enjoyment of the air and exercise, keeping always that sharp corner of his eye upon the carriage.
A stroll among the haunted ruins of Kenilworth, and more rides to more points of view: most of which, Mrs Skewton reminded Mr Dombey, Edith had already sketched, as he had seen in looking over her drawings: brought the day's expedition to a close. Mrs Skewton and Edith were driven to their own lodgings; Mr Carker was graciously invited by Cleopatra to return thither with Mr Dombey and the Major, in the evening, to hear some of Edith's music; and the three gentlemen repaired to their hotel to dinner.
The dinner was the counterpart of yesterday's, except that the Major was twenty-four hours more triumphant and less mysterious. Edith was toasted again. Mr Dombey was again agreeably embarrassed. And Mr Carker was full of interest and praise.
There were no other visitors at Mrs Skewton's. Edith's drawings were strewn about the room, a little more abundantly than usual perhaps; and Withers, the wan page, handed round a little stronger tea. The harp was there; the piano was there; and Edith sang and played. But even the music was played by Edith to Mr Dombey's order, as it were, in the same uncompromising way. As thus.
'Edith, my dearest love,' said Mrs Skewton, half an hour after tea, 'Mr Dombey is dying to hear you, I know.'
'Mr Dombey has life enough left to say so for himself, Mama, I have no doubt.'
'I shall be immensely obliged,' said Mr Dombey.
'What do you wish?'
'Piano?' hesitated Mr Dombey.
'Whatever you please. You have only to choose.
Accordingly, she began with the piano. It was the same with the harp; the same with her singing; the same with the selection of the pieces that she sang and played. Such frigid and constrained, yet prompt and pointed acquiescence with the wishes he imposed upon her, and on no one else, was sufficiently remarkable to penetrate through all the mysteries of picquet, and impress itself on Mr Carker's keen attention. Nor did he lose sight of the fact that Mr Dombey was evidently proud of his power, and liked to show it.
Nevertheless, Mr Carker played so well - some games with the Major, and some with Cleopatra, whose vigilance of eye in respect of Mr Dombey and Edith no lynx could have surpassed - that he even heightened his position in the lady-mother's good graces; and when on taking leave he regretted that he would be obliged to return to London next morning, Cleopatra trusted: community of feeling not being met with every day: that it was far from being the last time they would meet.
A stroll among the haunted ruins of Kenilworth, and more rides to more points of view: most of which, Mrs Skewton reminded Mr Dombey, Edith had already sketched, as he had seen in looking over her drawings: brought the day's expedition to a close. Mrs Skewton and Edith were driven to their own lodgings; Mr Carker was graciously invited by Cleopatra to return thither with Mr Dombey and the Major, in the evening, to hear some of Edith's music; and the three gentlemen repaired to their hotel to dinner.
The dinner was the counterpart of yesterday's, except that the Major was twenty-four hours more triumphant and less mysterious. Edith was toasted again. Mr Dombey was again agreeably embarrassed. And Mr Carker was full of interest and praise.
There were no other visitors at Mrs Skewton's. Edith's drawings were strewn about the room, a little more abundantly than usual perhaps; and Withers, the wan page, handed round a little stronger tea. The harp was there; the piano was there; and Edith sang and played. But even the music was played by Edith to Mr Dombey's order, as it were, in the same uncompromising way. As thus.
'Edith, my dearest love,' said Mrs Skewton, half an hour after tea, 'Mr Dombey is dying to hear you, I know.'
'Mr Dombey has life enough left to say so for himself, Mama, I have no doubt.'
'I shall be immensely obliged,' said Mr Dombey.
'What do you wish?'
'Piano?' hesitated Mr Dombey.
'Whatever you please. You have only to choose.
Accordingly, she began with the piano. It was the same with the harp; the same with her singing; the same with the selection of the pieces that she sang and played. Such frigid and constrained, yet prompt and pointed acquiescence with the wishes he imposed upon her, and on no one else, was sufficiently remarkable to penetrate through all the mysteries of picquet, and impress itself on Mr Carker's keen attention. Nor did he lose sight of the fact that Mr Dombey was evidently proud of his power, and liked to show it.
Nevertheless, Mr Carker played so well - some games with the Major, and some with Cleopatra, whose vigilance of eye in respect of Mr Dombey and Edith no lynx could have surpassed - that he even heightened his position in the lady-mother's good graces; and when on taking leave he regretted that he would be obliged to return to London next morning, Cleopatra trusted: community of feeling not being met with every day: that it was far from being the last time they would meet.
We met the procession at Terracina
We met the procession at Terracina, about sixty miles southeast of Rome, where Agrippina, who had walked dry-eyed and marble-faced, without a word to anyone all the way from Brindisi, let her grief break out afresh at the sight of her four fatherless children. She cried to Castor:
"By the love you had for my dear husband swear that you will defend the lives of his children with your own, and avenge his death! It was his last charge to you." Castor, weeping, for the first time perhaps since his childhood, swore that he would accept the charge.
If you ask why Livilla did not come with us, the answer is that she had first been delivered of twin boys: of which, by the way, Sejanus seems to have been the father. If you ask why my mother did not come, the answer is that Tiberius and Livia did not allow her even to attend the funeral. If overwhelming grief prevented their own attendance, as grandmother and adoptive father of the dead man, it was clearly quite impossible for her, as his mother, to attend. And they were wise not to show themselves. If they had done so, even with a pretence of grief, they would certainly have been assaulted by the populace; and I think that the Guards would have stood by and not raised a finger to protect them. Tiberius had neglected to make even such preparations as were customary at the funeral of far less distinguished persons: the family masks of the Claudians and Julians did not appear nor the usual effigy of the dead man himself, laid on a bed; no funeral speech was made from the Oration Platform; no funeral hymns sung. Tiberius's excuse was that the funeral had already been celebrated in Syria and that the Gods would be offended if the rites were repeated. But never was such unanimous and sincere grief shown in Rome as on that night. Mars Field was ablaze with torches, and the crowd about Augustus's tomb, in which the um was reverently placed by Castor, was so dense that many people were crushed to death. Everywhere people were saying that Rome was lost, and that no hope remained: for Germanicus had been their last bulwark against oppression, and Germanicus was now foully murdered. And everywhere Agrippina was praised and pitied, and prayers were offered for the safety of her children.
Tiberius published a proclamation a few days later saying that, though many illustrious Romans had died for the commonwealth, none had been so universally and vehemently regretted as his dear son. But it was now time for the people to compose their minds and return to their daily business: princes were mortal, but the commonwealth eternal. In spite of this. All Fools' Festival at the end of December passed without any of the usual jokes and jollity, and it was not until the Festival of the Great Mother in April that mourning ended and normal public business was resumed. Tiberius's suspicions were now concentrated on Agrippina. She visited him at the Palace on the morning after the funeral and fearlessly told him that she would hold him responsible for her husband's death until he had proved his innocence and taken vengeance on Piso and Plancina. He cut short the interview at once by quoting at her the Greek lines:
"By the love you had for my dear husband swear that you will defend the lives of his children with your own, and avenge his death! It was his last charge to you." Castor, weeping, for the first time perhaps since his childhood, swore that he would accept the charge.
If you ask why Livilla did not come with us, the answer is that she had first been delivered of twin boys: of which, by the way, Sejanus seems to have been the father. If you ask why my mother did not come, the answer is that Tiberius and Livia did not allow her even to attend the funeral. If overwhelming grief prevented their own attendance, as grandmother and adoptive father of the dead man, it was clearly quite impossible for her, as his mother, to attend. And they were wise not to show themselves. If they had done so, even with a pretence of grief, they would certainly have been assaulted by the populace; and I think that the Guards would have stood by and not raised a finger to protect them. Tiberius had neglected to make even such preparations as were customary at the funeral of far less distinguished persons: the family masks of the Claudians and Julians did not appear nor the usual effigy of the dead man himself, laid on a bed; no funeral speech was made from the Oration Platform; no funeral hymns sung. Tiberius's excuse was that the funeral had already been celebrated in Syria and that the Gods would be offended if the rites were repeated. But never was such unanimous and sincere grief shown in Rome as on that night. Mars Field was ablaze with torches, and the crowd about Augustus's tomb, in which the um was reverently placed by Castor, was so dense that many people were crushed to death. Everywhere people were saying that Rome was lost, and that no hope remained: for Germanicus had been their last bulwark against oppression, and Germanicus was now foully murdered. And everywhere Agrippina was praised and pitied, and prayers were offered for the safety of her children.
Tiberius published a proclamation a few days later saying that, though many illustrious Romans had died for the commonwealth, none had been so universally and vehemently regretted as his dear son. But it was now time for the people to compose their minds and return to their daily business: princes were mortal, but the commonwealth eternal. In spite of this. All Fools' Festival at the end of December passed without any of the usual jokes and jollity, and it was not until the Festival of the Great Mother in April that mourning ended and normal public business was resumed. Tiberius's suspicions were now concentrated on Agrippina. She visited him at the Palace on the morning after the funeral and fearlessly told him that she would hold him responsible for her husband's death until he had proved his innocence and taken vengeance on Piso and Plancina. He cut short the interview at once by quoting at her the Greek lines:
2012年11月21日星期三
‘I got a son
‘I got a son,’ he said at last, ‘and the Lord’s going to rise him up. I know—the Lord haspromised—His word is true.’
And then she laughed. ‘That son,’ she said, ‘that Roy. You going to weep for many aeternity before you see him crying in front of the altar like Johnny was crying to-night.’
‘God sees the heart,’ he repeated, ‘He sees the heart.’
‘Well, He ought to see it,’ she cried, ‘He made it! But don’t nobody else se it, not evenyour own self! Let God see it—He sees it all right, and He don’t say nothing.’
‘He speaks,’ he said, ‘He speaks. All you got to do is listen.’
‘I been listening many a night-time long,’ said Florence, then, ‘and He ain’t never spoke tome.’
‘He ain’t never spoke,’ said Gabriel, ‘because you ain’t never wanted to hear. You justwanted Him to tell you your way was right. And that ain’t no way to wait on God.’
‘Then tell me,’ Said Florence, ‘what He done said to you—that you didn’t want to hear?’
And there was silence again. Now they both watched John and Elisha.
‘I going to tell you something, Gabriel,’ she said. ‘I know you thinking at the bottom ofyour heart that if you make her, her and her bastard boy, pay enough for her sin, your son won’thave to pay for yours. But I ain’t going to let you do that. You done made enough folks pay for sin,it’s time you started paying.’
‘What you think,’ he asked, ‘you going to be able to do—against me?’
‘Maybe,’ she said, ‘I ain’t long for this world, but I got this letter, and I’m sure going togive it to Elizabeth before I go, and if she don’t want it, I’m going to find some way—some way, Idon’t know how—to rise up and tell it, tell everybody, about the blood the Lord’s anointed id goton his hands.’
‘I done told you,’ he said, ‘that’s all done and finished; the Lord done give me a sign tomake me know I been forgiven. What good you think it’s going to do to start talking about itnow?’
‘It’ll make Elizabeth to know,’ she said, ‘that she ain’t the only sinner … in your holyhouse. And little Johnny, there—he’ll know he ain’t the only bastard.’
Then he turned again, and looked at her with hatred in his eyes.
‘You ain’t never changed,’ he said. ‘You still waiting to see my downfall. You just aswicked now as you was when you was young.’
She put the letter in her bag again.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I ain’t changed. You ain’t changed neither. You still promising the Lordyou going to do better—and you think whatever you done already, whatever you doing right at thatminute, don’t count. Of all the men I ever knew, you’s the man who ought to be hoping the Bible’sall a lie—’cause if that trumpet ever sounds, you going to spend eternity talking.’
They had reached her corner. She stopped, and he stopped with her, and she stared into hishaggard, burning face.
‘I got to take my underground,’ she said. ‘You got anything you want to say to me?’
‘I been living a long time,’ he said, ‘and I ain’t never seen nothing but evil overtake theenemies of the Lord. You think you going to use that letter to hurt me—but the Lord ain’t going tolet it come to pass. You going to be cut down.’
And then she laughed. ‘That son,’ she said, ‘that Roy. You going to weep for many aeternity before you see him crying in front of the altar like Johnny was crying to-night.’
‘God sees the heart,’ he repeated, ‘He sees the heart.’
‘Well, He ought to see it,’ she cried, ‘He made it! But don’t nobody else se it, not evenyour own self! Let God see it—He sees it all right, and He don’t say nothing.’
‘He speaks,’ he said, ‘He speaks. All you got to do is listen.’
‘I been listening many a night-time long,’ said Florence, then, ‘and He ain’t never spoke tome.’
‘He ain’t never spoke,’ said Gabriel, ‘because you ain’t never wanted to hear. You justwanted Him to tell you your way was right. And that ain’t no way to wait on God.’
‘Then tell me,’ Said Florence, ‘what He done said to you—that you didn’t want to hear?’
And there was silence again. Now they both watched John and Elisha.
‘I going to tell you something, Gabriel,’ she said. ‘I know you thinking at the bottom ofyour heart that if you make her, her and her bastard boy, pay enough for her sin, your son won’thave to pay for yours. But I ain’t going to let you do that. You done made enough folks pay for sin,it’s time you started paying.’
‘What you think,’ he asked, ‘you going to be able to do—against me?’
‘Maybe,’ she said, ‘I ain’t long for this world, but I got this letter, and I’m sure going togive it to Elizabeth before I go, and if she don’t want it, I’m going to find some way—some way, Idon’t know how—to rise up and tell it, tell everybody, about the blood the Lord’s anointed id goton his hands.’
‘I done told you,’ he said, ‘that’s all done and finished; the Lord done give me a sign tomake me know I been forgiven. What good you think it’s going to do to start talking about itnow?’
‘It’ll make Elizabeth to know,’ she said, ‘that she ain’t the only sinner … in your holyhouse. And little Johnny, there—he’ll know he ain’t the only bastard.’
Then he turned again, and looked at her with hatred in his eyes.
‘You ain’t never changed,’ he said. ‘You still waiting to see my downfall. You just aswicked now as you was when you was young.’
She put the letter in her bag again.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I ain’t changed. You ain’t changed neither. You still promising the Lordyou going to do better—and you think whatever you done already, whatever you doing right at thatminute, don’t count. Of all the men I ever knew, you’s the man who ought to be hoping the Bible’sall a lie—’cause if that trumpet ever sounds, you going to spend eternity talking.’
They had reached her corner. She stopped, and he stopped with her, and she stared into hishaggard, burning face.
‘I got to take my underground,’ she said. ‘You got anything you want to say to me?’
‘I been living a long time,’ he said, ‘and I ain’t never seen nothing but evil overtake theenemies of the Lord. You think you going to use that letter to hurt me—but the Lord ain’t going tolet it come to pass. You going to be cut down.’
The taxi stopped in front of a cabaret in the rue Germaine Pilon
The taxi stopped in front of a cabaret in the rue Germaine Pilon, near Boulevard Clichy. Melanie paid the fare and was handed her bag from the top of the cab. She felt something which might be the beginning of the rain against her cheek. The cab drove away, she stood before Le Nerf in an empty street, the flowered bag without gaiety under the clouds.
"You believed us after all." M. Itague stood, half-stooping, holding the handle of the traveling bag. "Come, fetiche, inside. There's news."
On the small stage, which faced a dining room filled only with stacked tables and chairs, and lit by uncertain August daylight, came the confrontation with Satin.
"Mlle. Jarretiere"; using her stage name. He was short and heavily built: the hair stuck out in tufts from each side of his head. He wore tights and a dress shirt, and directed his eyes parallel to a line connecting her hip-points. The skirt was two years old, she was growing. She felt embarrassed.
"I have nowhere to stay," she murmured.
"Here," announced Itague, "there's a back room. Here, until we move,mont blanc pens."
"Move?" She gazed at the raving flesh of tropical blossoms decorating her bag.
"We have the Theatre de Vincent Castor," cried Satin. He spun, leaped, landed atop a small stepladder.
Itague grew excited, describing L'Enlevement des Vierges Chinoises - Rape of the Chinese Virgins. It was to be Satin's finest ballet, the greatest music of Vladimir Porcepic, everything formidable. Rehearsals began tomorrow, she'd saved the day, they would have waited until the last minute because it could only be Melanie, La Jarretiere, to play Su Feng, the virgin who is tortured to death defending her purity against the invading Mongolians.
She had wandered away, to the edge of stage right. Itague stood in the center, gesturing,Replica Designer Handbags, declaiming: while enigmatic on the stepladder, stage left, perched Satin, humming a music-hall song,ugg bailey button triplet 1873 boots.
A remarkable innovation would be the use of automata, to play Su Feng's handmaidens. "A German engineer is building them," said Itague. "They're lovely creatures: one will even unfasten your robes. Another will play a zither - although the music itself comes from the pit. But they move so gracefully! Not like machines at all."
Was she listening? Of course: part of her. She stood awkwardly on one leg, reached down and scratched her calf, hot under its black stocking. Satin watched hungrily. She felt the twin curls moving restless against her neck. What was he saying? Automata . . .
She gazed up at the sky, through one of the room's side windows. God,knockoff handbags, would it ever rain?
Her room was hot and airless. Asprawl in one corner was an artist's lay figure, without a head. Old theater posters were scattered on the floor and bed, tacked to the wall. She thought once she heard thunder rumbling from outside.
"Rehearsals will be here," Itague told her. "Two weeks before the performance we move into the Theatre de Vincent Castor, to get the feel of the boards." He used much theater talk. Not long ago he'd been a bartender near Place Pigalle.
"You believed us after all." M. Itague stood, half-stooping, holding the handle of the traveling bag. "Come, fetiche, inside. There's news."
On the small stage, which faced a dining room filled only with stacked tables and chairs, and lit by uncertain August daylight, came the confrontation with Satin.
"Mlle. Jarretiere"; using her stage name. He was short and heavily built: the hair stuck out in tufts from each side of his head. He wore tights and a dress shirt, and directed his eyes parallel to a line connecting her hip-points. The skirt was two years old, she was growing. She felt embarrassed.
"I have nowhere to stay," she murmured.
"Here," announced Itague, "there's a back room. Here, until we move,mont blanc pens."
"Move?" She gazed at the raving flesh of tropical blossoms decorating her bag.
"We have the Theatre de Vincent Castor," cried Satin. He spun, leaped, landed atop a small stepladder.
Itague grew excited, describing L'Enlevement des Vierges Chinoises - Rape of the Chinese Virgins. It was to be Satin's finest ballet, the greatest music of Vladimir Porcepic, everything formidable. Rehearsals began tomorrow, she'd saved the day, they would have waited until the last minute because it could only be Melanie, La Jarretiere, to play Su Feng, the virgin who is tortured to death defending her purity against the invading Mongolians.
She had wandered away, to the edge of stage right. Itague stood in the center, gesturing,Replica Designer Handbags, declaiming: while enigmatic on the stepladder, stage left, perched Satin, humming a music-hall song,ugg bailey button triplet 1873 boots.
A remarkable innovation would be the use of automata, to play Su Feng's handmaidens. "A German engineer is building them," said Itague. "They're lovely creatures: one will even unfasten your robes. Another will play a zither - although the music itself comes from the pit. But they move so gracefully! Not like machines at all."
Was she listening? Of course: part of her. She stood awkwardly on one leg, reached down and scratched her calf, hot under its black stocking. Satin watched hungrily. She felt the twin curls moving restless against her neck. What was he saying? Automata . . .
She gazed up at the sky, through one of the room's side windows. God,knockoff handbags, would it ever rain?
Her room was hot and airless. Asprawl in one corner was an artist's lay figure, without a head. Old theater posters were scattered on the floor and bed, tacked to the wall. She thought once she heard thunder rumbling from outside.
"Rehearsals will be here," Itague told her. "Two weeks before the performance we move into the Theatre de Vincent Castor, to get the feel of the boards." He used much theater talk. Not long ago he'd been a bartender near Place Pigalle.
Kitty was puzzled and piqued by these changes
Kitty was puzzled and piqued by these changes, and being a bornflirt tried all her powers on David, veiled under guilelessgirlishness. She was very pretty, very charming, and at times mostlovable and sweet when all that was best in her shallow little heartwas touched. But it was evident to all that her early acquaintancewith the hard and sordid side of life had brushed the bloom from hernature, and filled her mind with thoughts and feelings unfitted toher years.
Mrs. Sterling was very kind to her, but never treated her as she didChristie; and though not a word was spoken between them the elderwomen knew that they quite agreed in their opinion of Kitty. Sheevidently was rather afraid of the old lady, who said so little andsaw so much. Christie also she shunned without appearing to do so,and when alone with her put on airs that half amused, half irritatedthe other.
"David is my friend, and I don't care for any one else," her mannersaid as plainly as words; and to him she devoted herself soentirely, and apparently so successfully, that Christie made up hermind he had at last begun to forget his Letty, and think of fillingthe void her loss had left.
A few words which she accidentally overheard confirmed this idea,and showed her what she must do. As she came quietly in one eveningfrom a stroll in the lane, and stood taking off cloak and hood, shecaught a glimpse through the half-open parlor door of David pacingto and fro with a curiously excited expression on his face, andheard Mrs. Sterling say with unusual warmth:
"Thee is too hard upon thyself, Davy. Forget the past and be happyas other men are. Thee has atoned for thy fault long ago, so let mesee thee at peace before I die,link, my son.""Not yet, mother, not yet. I have no right to hope or ask for anywoman's love till I am worthier of it," answered David in a tonethat thrilled Christie's heart: it was so full of love and longing.
Here Kitty came running in from the green-house with her hands fullof flowers, and passing Christie, who was fumbling among the cloaksin the passage, she went to show David some new blossom,LINK.
He had no time to alter the expression of his face for its usualgrave serenity: Kitty saw the change at once, and spoke of it withher accustomed want of tact.
"How handsome you look! What are you thinking about?" she said,gazing up at him with her own eyes bright with wonder, and hercheeks glowing with the delicate carmine of the frosty air.
"I am thinking that you look more like a rose than ever,fake uggs online store," answeredDavid turning her attention from himself by a compliment,Replica Designer Handbags, andbeginning to admire the flowers, still with that flushed and kindledlook on his own face.
Christie crept upstairs, and, sitting in the dark, decided with thefirmness of despair to go away, lest she should betray the secretthat possessed her, a dead hope now, but still too dear to beconcealed.
"Mr. Power told me to come to him when I got tired of this. I'll sayI am tired and try something else, no matter what: I can bear anything, but to stand quietly by and see David marry thatempty-hearted girl, who dares to show that she desires to win him.
I have been living on Almond Street only a week but am pretty happy
I have been living on Almond Street only a week but am pretty happy. The apartment comes with a cable television set and other essential furnishings and a bathroom with shower. There's no kitchen but your grandmother stood me to a little microwave, a 1.2-cubic-ft. Magic Chef, for coffee in the morning and a TV dinner at night. There's a 7-Eleven just down the street. This used to be the landlady's daughter's room until she married and moved away, so there are a lot of frilly nice touches left over.
When you come you must meet your new aunt, a half-aunt if there is such a thing, Annabelle. She is shy but very nice, and knows all about you. Those protests in Seattle reminded me of when I was about your age and people were protesting everything, rioting in the streets. Policemen were called pigs and the President was called worse, just like now. I suppose things move in cycles.
I'm glad your birthday went nicely and I'm sorry it slipped my mind. Let me know what you would like for a present and we can get it when you visit. Your own cell phone seems a bit much even if other kids have them. There is a monthly charge, you know, that you would be responsible for. You can keep using this for your e-mail to me but as I say I can't answer easily. At work they don't want you to use the comput-ers for private e-mail. But I have a phone in my apartment: 610-846-7331. Call me when you feel like a chat. Love to you and all those fabulous Akron Angstroms,fake uggs for sale, Dad.
He is not surprised when Pru calls the next evening. Her voice is
lighter, more girlish than he remembers. "Nelson, what got into
you to leave your mother's at last?"
"It felt crowded. Ronnie's a prick, like my father always said."
"This so-called sister—did she put you up to it,mont blanc pens?"
"No, Annabelle would never apply pressure that way."
"Well, she got you to do something I never could."
"Oh? You were never that clear. You were ambivalent, like me,Moncler Outlet. It was a free ride, with a built-in babysitter."
She pauses, checking her memory against his. He can picture her lips, drawn back in thought in her bony face, like an astronaut's when the G's of force begin to tug. She says, "Maybe it was Pennsylvania I needed to get out of. It's all very dear and friendly, but there's this thick air or whatever, this moral undertone. I think Judy is better off without all that to rebel against."
"And Roy?"
"He's scary, of course, spending so much time at the computer, but a lot of his friends are like that too. Where you and I see a screen full of more or less the same old crap, they see a magic space, full of tunnels and passageways and pots of gold. He's grown up with it."
He is being invited, he realizes, to talk as a parent, a collaborator in this immense accidental enterprise of bringing another human being into the world. "Yeah, well, there's always something. TV, cars, movies, baseball. Lore. People have to have lore. Anyway, Roy has always been kind of a space man."
"He masturbates like crazy, though,LINK. There's all this porn on the Internet. And he doesn't have the housekeeping sense to wipe up the sheet with a handkerchief."
When you come you must meet your new aunt, a half-aunt if there is such a thing, Annabelle. She is shy but very nice, and knows all about you. Those protests in Seattle reminded me of when I was about your age and people were protesting everything, rioting in the streets. Policemen were called pigs and the President was called worse, just like now. I suppose things move in cycles.
I'm glad your birthday went nicely and I'm sorry it slipped my mind. Let me know what you would like for a present and we can get it when you visit. Your own cell phone seems a bit much even if other kids have them. There is a monthly charge, you know, that you would be responsible for. You can keep using this for your e-mail to me but as I say I can't answer easily. At work they don't want you to use the comput-ers for private e-mail. But I have a phone in my apartment: 610-846-7331. Call me when you feel like a chat. Love to you and all those fabulous Akron Angstroms,fake uggs for sale, Dad.
He is not surprised when Pru calls the next evening. Her voice is
lighter, more girlish than he remembers. "Nelson, what got into
you to leave your mother's at last?"
"It felt crowded. Ronnie's a prick, like my father always said."
"This so-called sister—did she put you up to it,mont blanc pens?"
"No, Annabelle would never apply pressure that way."
"Well, she got you to do something I never could."
"Oh? You were never that clear. You were ambivalent, like me,Moncler Outlet. It was a free ride, with a built-in babysitter."
She pauses, checking her memory against his. He can picture her lips, drawn back in thought in her bony face, like an astronaut's when the G's of force begin to tug. She says, "Maybe it was Pennsylvania I needed to get out of. It's all very dear and friendly, but there's this thick air or whatever, this moral undertone. I think Judy is better off without all that to rebel against."
"And Roy?"
"He's scary, of course, spending so much time at the computer, but a lot of his friends are like that too. Where you and I see a screen full of more or less the same old crap, they see a magic space, full of tunnels and passageways and pots of gold. He's grown up with it."
He is being invited, he realizes, to talk as a parent, a collaborator in this immense accidental enterprise of bringing another human being into the world. "Yeah, well, there's always something. TV, cars, movies, baseball. Lore. People have to have lore. Anyway, Roy has always been kind of a space man."
"He masturbates like crazy, though,LINK. There's all this porn on the Internet. And he doesn't have the housekeeping sense to wipe up the sheet with a handkerchief."
“I just want to check on what they’ve been doing
“I just want to check on what they’ve been doing,” I explained.
“Tonight?” she asked.
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s dark inside. We won’t be able to see anything.” “C’mon,” I said, reaching for a flashlight I’d stashed under my seat. “We don’t have to stay long if you don’t want to.”
I got out of the car and opened her door for her. After guiding her gingerly through the debris and up onto the porch, I unlocked the door. In the darkness, it was impossible not to notice the smell of new carpet, and a moment later, when I turned on the flashlight and swept it through the living room and the kitchen, I saw Jane’s eyes widen. It wasn’t completely finished, of course, but even from where we stood in the doorway, it was plain that it was close enough for us to move in.
Jane stood frozen in place. I reached for her hand.
“Welcome home,” I said.
“Oh, Wilson,” she breathed.
“Happy anniversary,” I whispered.
When she turned toward me, her expression was a mixture of hope and confusion.
“But how . . . I mean, last week, it wasn’t even close . . .” “I wanted it to be a surprise. But come—there’s one more thing I have to show you.”
I led her up the stairs, turning toward the master bedroom. As I pushed open the door, I aimed the flashlight and then stepped aside so Jane could see. In the room was the only piece of furniture that I’ve ever bought on my own: an antique canopy bed. It resembled the one at the inn in Beaufort where we’d made love on our honeymoon.
Jane was silent, and I was suddenly struck by the thought that I’d somehow done something wrong.
“I can’t believe you did this,” she finally said. “Was this your idea?”
“Don’t you like it?”
She smiled. “I love it,” she said softly. “But I can’t believe that you thought of this. This is almost . . . romantic.”
To be honest, I hadn’t thought of it in that way,ugg bailey button triplet 1873 boots. The simple fact was that we needed a decent bed, and this was the one style I was certain that she liked. Knowing she meant it as a compliment, however, I raised an eyebrow, as if asking, What else would you expect?
She approached the bed and ran a finger along the canopy. A moment later, she sat on the edge and patted the mattress beside her in invitation. “We have to talk,” she said.
As I moved to join her,replica gucci handbags, I couldn’t help but remember the previous times she’d made this announcement. I expected that she was about to ask me to do something else for her, but when I sat down, she leaned in to kiss me. “I have a surprise, too,” she said. “And I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you.”
“What is it,LINK?” I asked.
She hesitated for the barest second. “I’m pregnant.” At first, her words didn’t register, but when they did, I knew with certainty that I’d been given a surprise even better than my own. In early evening, when the sun was getting low and the brunt of the heat was breaking, Jane called. After asking about Noah, she informed me that Anna still couldn’t make up her mind about the dress and that she wouldn’t make it home that night. Though I assured her that I had expected as much, I could hear a trace of frustration in her voice. She wasn’t as angry as she was exasperated, and I smiled, wondering how on earth Jane could still be surprised by our daughter’s behavior,replica gucci wallets.
“Tonight?” she asked.
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s dark inside. We won’t be able to see anything.” “C’mon,” I said, reaching for a flashlight I’d stashed under my seat. “We don’t have to stay long if you don’t want to.”
I got out of the car and opened her door for her. After guiding her gingerly through the debris and up onto the porch, I unlocked the door. In the darkness, it was impossible not to notice the smell of new carpet, and a moment later, when I turned on the flashlight and swept it through the living room and the kitchen, I saw Jane’s eyes widen. It wasn’t completely finished, of course, but even from where we stood in the doorway, it was plain that it was close enough for us to move in.
Jane stood frozen in place. I reached for her hand.
“Welcome home,” I said.
“Oh, Wilson,” she breathed.
“Happy anniversary,” I whispered.
When she turned toward me, her expression was a mixture of hope and confusion.
“But how . . . I mean, last week, it wasn’t even close . . .” “I wanted it to be a surprise. But come—there’s one more thing I have to show you.”
I led her up the stairs, turning toward the master bedroom. As I pushed open the door, I aimed the flashlight and then stepped aside so Jane could see. In the room was the only piece of furniture that I’ve ever bought on my own: an antique canopy bed. It resembled the one at the inn in Beaufort where we’d made love on our honeymoon.
Jane was silent, and I was suddenly struck by the thought that I’d somehow done something wrong.
“I can’t believe you did this,” she finally said. “Was this your idea?”
“Don’t you like it?”
She smiled. “I love it,” she said softly. “But I can’t believe that you thought of this. This is almost . . . romantic.”
To be honest, I hadn’t thought of it in that way,ugg bailey button triplet 1873 boots. The simple fact was that we needed a decent bed, and this was the one style I was certain that she liked. Knowing she meant it as a compliment, however, I raised an eyebrow, as if asking, What else would you expect?
She approached the bed and ran a finger along the canopy. A moment later, she sat on the edge and patted the mattress beside her in invitation. “We have to talk,” she said.
As I moved to join her,replica gucci handbags, I couldn’t help but remember the previous times she’d made this announcement. I expected that she was about to ask me to do something else for her, but when I sat down, she leaned in to kiss me. “I have a surprise, too,” she said. “And I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you.”
“What is it,LINK?” I asked.
She hesitated for the barest second. “I’m pregnant.” At first, her words didn’t register, but when they did, I knew with certainty that I’d been given a surprise even better than my own. In early evening, when the sun was getting low and the brunt of the heat was breaking, Jane called. After asking about Noah, she informed me that Anna still couldn’t make up her mind about the dress and that she wouldn’t make it home that night. Though I assured her that I had expected as much, I could hear a trace of frustration in her voice. She wasn’t as angry as she was exasperated, and I smiled, wondering how on earth Jane could still be surprised by our daughter’s behavior,replica gucci wallets.
2012年11月19日星期一
Let me see it
"Let me see it," said Father Goriot, when Eugene had read the letter. "You are going, aren't you?" he added,shox torch 2, when he had smelled the writing-paper. "How nice it smells! Her fingers have touched it, that is certain."
"A woman does not fling herself at a man's head in this way," the student was thinking,cheap designer handbags. "She wants to use me to bring back de Marsay; nothing but pique makes a woman do a thing like this."
"Well," said Father Goriot, "what are you thinking about?"
Chapter 12
Eugene did not know the fever or vanity that possessed some women in those days; how should he imagine that to open a door in the Faubourg Saint-Germain a banker's wife would go to almost any length,fake montblanc pens. For the coterie of the Faubourg Saint-Germain was a aharmed circle, and the women who moved in it were at that time the queens of society; and among the greatest of these Dames du Petit-Chateau, as they were called, were Mme. de Beauseant and her friends the Duchesse de Langeais and the Duchesse de Maufrigneause. Rastignac was alone in his ignorance of the frantic efforts made by women who lived in the Chausee-d'Antin to enter this seventh heaven and shine among the brightest constellations of their sex. But his cautious disposition stood him in good stead, and kept his judgment cool, and the not altogether enviable power of imposing instead of accepting conditions.
"Yes, I am going," he replied.
So it was curiosity that drew him to Mme. de Nucingen; while, if she had treated him disdainfully, passion perhaps might have brought him to her feet. Still he waited almost impatiently for to-morrow, and the hour when he could go to her. There is almost as much charm for a young man in a first flirtation as there is in first love. The certainty of success is a source of happiness to which men do not confess, and all the charm of certain women lies in this,UGG Clerance. The desire of conquest springs no less from the easiness than from the difficulty of triumph, and every passion is excited or sustained by one or the other of these two motives which divide the empire of love. Perhaps this division is one pesult of the great question of temperaments; which, after all, dominates social life. The melancholic temperament may stand in need of the tonic of coquetry, while those of nervous or sanguine complexion withdraw if they meet with a too stubborn resistance. In other words, the lymphatic temperament is essentially despondent, and the rhapsodic is bilious.
Eugene lingered over his toilette with an enjoyment of all its little details that is grateful to a young man's self-love, though he will not own to it for fear of being laughed at. He thought, as he arranged his hair, that a pretty woman's glances would wander through the dark curls. He indulged in childish tricks like any young girl dressing for a dance, and gazed complacently at his graceful figure while he smoothed out the creases of his coat.
"There are worse figures, that is certain," he said to himself.
Then he went downstairs, just as the rest of the household were sitting down to dinner, and took with good humor the boisterous applause excited by his elegant appearance. The amazement with which any attention to dress is regarded in a lodging-house is a very characteristic trait. No one can put on a new coat but every one else must say his say about it.
"A woman does not fling herself at a man's head in this way," the student was thinking,cheap designer handbags. "She wants to use me to bring back de Marsay; nothing but pique makes a woman do a thing like this."
"Well," said Father Goriot, "what are you thinking about?"
Chapter 12
Eugene did not know the fever or vanity that possessed some women in those days; how should he imagine that to open a door in the Faubourg Saint-Germain a banker's wife would go to almost any length,fake montblanc pens. For the coterie of the Faubourg Saint-Germain was a aharmed circle, and the women who moved in it were at that time the queens of society; and among the greatest of these Dames du Petit-Chateau, as they were called, were Mme. de Beauseant and her friends the Duchesse de Langeais and the Duchesse de Maufrigneause. Rastignac was alone in his ignorance of the frantic efforts made by women who lived in the Chausee-d'Antin to enter this seventh heaven and shine among the brightest constellations of their sex. But his cautious disposition stood him in good stead, and kept his judgment cool, and the not altogether enviable power of imposing instead of accepting conditions.
"Yes, I am going," he replied.
So it was curiosity that drew him to Mme. de Nucingen; while, if she had treated him disdainfully, passion perhaps might have brought him to her feet. Still he waited almost impatiently for to-morrow, and the hour when he could go to her. There is almost as much charm for a young man in a first flirtation as there is in first love. The certainty of success is a source of happiness to which men do not confess, and all the charm of certain women lies in this,UGG Clerance. The desire of conquest springs no less from the easiness than from the difficulty of triumph, and every passion is excited or sustained by one or the other of these two motives which divide the empire of love. Perhaps this division is one pesult of the great question of temperaments; which, after all, dominates social life. The melancholic temperament may stand in need of the tonic of coquetry, while those of nervous or sanguine complexion withdraw if they meet with a too stubborn resistance. In other words, the lymphatic temperament is essentially despondent, and the rhapsodic is bilious.
Eugene lingered over his toilette with an enjoyment of all its little details that is grateful to a young man's self-love, though he will not own to it for fear of being laughed at. He thought, as he arranged his hair, that a pretty woman's glances would wander through the dark curls. He indulged in childish tricks like any young girl dressing for a dance, and gazed complacently at his graceful figure while he smoothed out the creases of his coat.
"There are worse figures, that is certain," he said to himself.
Then he went downstairs, just as the rest of the household were sitting down to dinner, and took with good humor the boisterous applause excited by his elegant appearance. The amazement with which any attention to dress is regarded in a lodging-house is a very characteristic trait. No one can put on a new coat but every one else must say his say about it.
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