老妇人的故事 英文版The Old Wives' Tale
阿诺德.本涅特 Arnold Bennett
III
When Constance came to bed, half an hour later, Sophia was alreadyin bed. The room was fairly spacious. It had been the girls'retreat and fortress since their earliest years. Its featuresseemed to them as natural and unalterable as the features of acave to a cave-dweller. It had been repapered twice in theirlives, and each papering stood out in their memories like anepoch; a third epoch was due to the replacing of a drugget by aresplendent old carpet degraded from the drawing-room. There wasonly one bed, the bedstead being of painted iron; they neverinterfered with each other in that bed, sleeping with a detachmentas perfect as if they had slept on opposite sides of St. Luke'sSquare; yet if Constance had one night lain down on the half nearthe window instead of on the half near the door, the secret natureof the universe would have seemed to be altered. The small fire-grate was filled with a mass of shavings of silver paper; now therare illnesses which they had suffered were recalled chiefly asperiods when that silver paper was crammed into a large slipper-case which hung by the mantelpiece, and a fire of coalsunnaturally reigned in its place--the silver paper was part of theorder of the world. The sash of the window would not work quiteproperly, owing to a slight subsidence in the wall, and even whenthe window was fastened there was always a narrow slit to the lefthand between the window and its frame; through this slit camedraughts, and thus very keen frosts were remembered by the nightswhen Mrs. Baines caused the sash to be forced and kept at its fullheight by means of wedges--the slit of exposure was part of theorder of the world.
They possessed only one bed, one washstand, and one dressing-table; but in some other respects they were rather fortunategirls, for they had two mahogany wardrobes; this mutualindependence as regards wardrobes was due partly to Mrs. Baines'sstrong commonsense, and partly to their father's tendency to spoilthem a little. They had, moreover, a chest of drawers with acurved front, of which structure Constance occupied two shortdrawers and one long one, and Sophia two long drawers. On it stoodtwo fancy work-boxes, in which each sister kept jewellery, asavings-bank book, and other treasures, and these boxes wereabsolutely sacred to their respective owners. They were different,but one was not more magnificent than the other. Indeed, a rigidequality was the rule in the chamber, the single exception beingthat behind the door were three hooks, of which Constancecommanded two.
"Well," Sophia began, when Constance appeared. "How's darling Mr.Povey?" She was lying on her back, and smiling at her two hands,which she held up in front of her.
"Asleep," said Constance. "At least mother thinks so. She sayssleep is the best thing for him."
"'It will probably come on again,'" said Sophia.
"What's that you say?" Constance asked, undressing.
"'It will probably come on again.'"
These words were a quotation from the utterances of darling Mr.Povey on the stairs, and Sophia delivered them with an exactimitation of Mr. Povey's vocal mannerism.
"Sophia," said Constance, firmly, approaching the bed, "I wish youwouldn't be so silly!" She had benevolently ignored the satiricalnote in Sophia's first remark, but a strong instinct in her roseup and objected to further derision. "Surely you've done enoughfor one day!" she added.
For answer Sophia exploded into violent laughter, which she madeno attempt to control. She laughed too long and too freely whileConstance stared at her.
"_I_ don't know what's come over you!" said Constance.
exclaimed nervously. Sophia exploded into violent laughter, which.
"It's only because I can't look at it without simply going offinto fits!" Sophia gasped out. And she held up a tiny object inher left hand.
Constance started, flushing. "You don't mean to say you've keptit!" she protested earnestly. "How horrid you are, Sophia! Give itme at once and let me throw it away. I never heard of such doings.Now give it me!"
"No," Sophia objected, still laughing. "I wouldn't part with itfor worlds. It's too lovely."
She had laughed away all her secret resentment against Constancefor having ignored her during the whole evening and for being onsuch intimate terms with their parents. And she was ready to becandidly jolly with Constance.
"Give it me," said Constance, doggedly.
Sophia hid her hand under the clothes. "You can have his oldstump, when it comes out, if you like. But not this. What a pityit's the wrong one!"
"Sophia, I'm ashamed of you! Give it me."
Then it was that Sophia first perceived Constance's extremeseriousness. She was surprised and a little intimidated by it. Forthe expression of Constance's face, usually so benign and calm,was harsh, almost fierce. However, Sophia had a great deal of whatis called "spirit," and not even ferocity on the face of mildConstance could intimidate her for more than a few seconds. Hergaiety expired and her teeth were hidden.
"I've said nothing to mother---" Constance proceeded.
"I should hope you haven't," Sophia put in tersely.
"But I certainly shall if you don't throw that away," Constancefinished.
"You can say what you like," Sophia retorted, addingcontemptuously a term of opprobrium which has long since passedout of use: "Cant!"
"Will you give it me or won't you?"
"No!"
It was a battle suddenly engaged in the bedroom. The atmospherehad altered completely with the swiftness of magic. The beauty ofSophia, the angelic tenderness of Constance, and the youthful,naive, innocent charm of both of them, were transformed intosomething sinister and cruel. Sophia lay back on the pillow amidher dark-brown hair, and gazed with relentless defiance into theangry eyes of Constance, who stood threatening by the bed. Theycould hear the gas singing over the dressing-table, and theirhearts beating the blood wildly in their veins. They ceased to beyoung without growing old; the eternal had leapt up in them fromits sleep.
Constance walked away from the bed to the dressing-table and beganto loose her hair and brush it, holding back her head, shaking it,and bending forward, in the changeless gesture of that rite. Shewas so disturbed that she had unconsciously reversed the customaryorder of the toilette. After a moment Sophia slipped out of bedand, stepping with her bare feet to the chest of drawers, openedher work-box and deposited the fragment of Mr. Povey therein; shedropped the lid with an uncompromising bang, as if to say, "Weshall see if I am to be trod upon, miss!" Their eyes met again inthe looking-glass. Then Sophia got back into bed.
Five minutes later, when her hair was quite finished, Constanceknelt down and said her prayers. Having said her prayers, she wentstraight to Sophia's work-box, opened it, seized the fragment ofMr. Povey, ran to the window, and frantically pushed the fragmentthrough the slit into the Square.
"There!" she exclaimed nervously.
She had accomplished this inconceivable transgression of the codeof honour, beyond all undoing, before Sophia could recover fromthe stupefaction of seeing her sacred work-box impudentlyviolated. In a single moment one of Sophia's chief ideals had beensmashed utterly, and that by the sweetest, gentlest creature shehad ever known. It was a revealing experience for Sophia--and alsofor Constance. And it frightened them equally. Sophia, staring atthe text, "Thou God seest me," framed in straw over the chest ofdrawers, did not stir. She was defeated, and so profoundly movedin her defeat that she did not even reflect upon the obviousinefficacy of illuminated texts as a deterrent from evil-doing.Not that she eared a fig for the fragment of Mr. Povey! It was themoral aspect of the affair, and the astounding, inexplicabledevelopment in Constance's character, that staggered her intosilent acceptance of the inevitable.
Constance, trembling, took pains to finish undressing withdignified deliberation. Sophia's behaviour under the blow seemedtoo good to be true; but it gave her courage. At length she turnedout the gas and lay down by Sophia. And there was a littleshuffling, and then stillness for a while.
"And if you want to know," said Constance in a tone that mingledamicableness with righteousness, "mother's decided with AuntHarriet that we are BOTH to leave school next term."