老妇人的故事 英文版The Old Wives' Tale
阿诺德.本涅特 Arnold Bennett
II
The hansom of Matthew Peel-Swynnerton drew up in front of No. 26,Victoria Grove, Chelsea; his kit-bag was on the roof of the cab.The cabman had a red flower in his buttonhole. Matthew leaped outof the vehicle, holding his straw hat on his head with one hand.On reaching the pavement he checked himself suddenly and becamecarelessly calm. Another straw-hatted and grey-clad figure wasstanding at the side-gate of No. 26 in the act of lighting acigarette.
"Hello, Matt!" exclaimed the second figure, languidly, and in aveiled voice due to the fact that he was still holding the matchto the cigarette and puffing. "What's the meaning of all thisfluster? You're just the man I want to see."
He threw away the match with a wave of the arm, and took Matthew'shand for a moment, blowing a double shaft of smoke through hisnose
"I want to see you, too," said Matthew. "And I've only got aminute. I'm on my way to Euston. I must catch the twelve-five."
He looked at his friend, and could positively see no feature of itthat was not a feature of Mrs. Scales's face. Also, the elderlywoman held her body in exactly the same way as the young man. Itwas entirely disconcerting.
"Have a cigarette," answered Cyril Povey, imperturbably. He wastwo years younger than Matthew, from whom he had acquired most ofhis vast and intricate knowledge of life and art, with certainleading notions of deportment; whose pupil indeed he was in allthe things that matter to young men. But he had already surpassedhis professor. He could pretend to be old much more successfullythan Matthew could.
The cabman approvingly watched the ignition of the secondcigarette, and then the cabman pulled out a cigar, and showed hislarge, white teeth, as he bit the end off it. The appearance andmanner of his fare, the quality of the kit-bag, and the openinggestures of the interview between the two young dukes, had put thecabman in an optimistic mood. He had no apprehensions of miserlyand ungentlemanly conduct by his fare upon the arrival at Euston.He knew the language of the tilt of a straw hat. And it was amagnificent day in London. The group of the two elegancesdominated by the perfection of the cabman made a striking tableauof triumphant masculinity, content with itself, and needingnothing.
Matthew lightly took Cyril's arm and drew him further down thestreet, past the gate leading to the studio (hidden behind ahouse) which Cyril rented.
"Look here, my boy," he began, "I've found your aunt."
"Well, that's very nice of you," said Cyril, solemnly. "That's afriendly act. May I ask what aunt?"
"Mrs. Scales," said Matthew. "You know--"
"Not the--" Cyril's face changed.
"Yes, precisely!" said Matthew, feeling that he was not beingcheated of the legitimate joy caused by making a sensation.Assuredly he had made a sensation in Victoria Grove.
When he had related the whole story, Cyril said: "Then she doesn'tknow you know?"
"I don't think so. No, I'm sure she doesn't. She may guess."
"But how can you be certain you haven't made a mistake? It may bethat--"
"Look here, my boy," Matthew interrupted him. "I've not made anymistake."
"Proof be damned!" said Matthew, nettled. "I tell you it's HER!"
"Oh! All right! All right! What puzzles me most is what the devilyou were doing in a place like that. According to your descriptionof it, it must be a--"
"I went there because I was broke," said Matthew.
"Razzle?"
Matthew nodded.
"Well, she absolutely swore she never took less than two hundredfrancs. And she looked it, too! And she was worth it! I had thetime of my life with that woman. I can tell you one thing--no moreEnglish for me! They simply aren't in it."
Matthew reflected judicially. "I should say she was thirty." Thegaze of admiration and envy was upon him. He had the legitimatejoy of making a second sensation. "I'll let you know more aboutthat when I come back," he added. "I can open your eyes, mychild."
Cyril smiled sheepishly. "Why can't you stay now?" he asked. "I'mgoing to take the cast of that Verrall girl's arm this afternoon,and I know I can't do it alone. And Robson's no good. You're justthe man I want."
"Can't!" said Matthew.
"Well, come into the studio a minute, anyhow."
"Haven't time; I shall miss my train."
"I don't care if you miss forty trains. You must come in. You'vegot to see that fountain," Cyril insisted crossly.
Matthew yielded. When they emerged into the street again, aftersix minutes of Cyril's savage interest in his own work, Matthewremembered Mrs. Scales.
"Of course you'll write to your mother?" he said.
"Yes," said Cyril, "I'll write; but if you happen to see her, youmight tell her."
"I will," said Matthew. "Shall you go over to Paris?"
"What! To see Auntie?" He smiled. "I don't know. Depends. If themater will fork out all my exes ... it's an idea," he saidlightly, and then without any change of tone, "Naturally, ifyou're going to idle about here all morning you aren't likely tocatch the twelve-five."
Matthew got into the cab, while the driver, the stump of a cigarbetween his exposed teeth, leaned forward and lifted the reinsaway from the tilted straw hat.
"By-the-by, lend me some silver," Matthew demanded. "It's a goodthing I've got my return ticket. I've run it as fine as ever I didin my life."
Cyril produced eight shillings in silver. Secure in the possessionof these riches, Matthew called to the driver--
"Euston--like hell!"
"Yes, sir," said the driver, calmly.
Scales," said Matthew. "You know--.
"Not coming my way I suppose?" Matthew shouted as an afterthought,just when the cab began to move.
"No. Barber's," Cyril shouted in answer, and waved his hand.
The horse rattled into Fulham Road.