老妇人的故事 英文版The Old Wives' Tale
阿诺德.本涅特 Arnold Bennett
IV
At supper, with her red, downcast eyes, she had returned to sheergirlishness again, overawed by her mother. The meal had an unusualaspect. Mr. Povey, safe from the dentist's, but having lost twoteeth in two days, was being fed on 'slops'--bread and milk, towit; he sat near the fire. The others had cold pork, half a coldapple-pie, and cheese; but Sophia only pretended to eat; each timeshe tried to swallow, the tears came into her eyes, and her throatshut itself up. Mrs. Baines and Constance had a too careful air ofeating just as usual. Mrs. Baines's handsome ringlets dominatedthe table under the gas.
"I'm not so set up with my pastry to-day," observed Mrs. Baines,critically munching a fragment of pie-crust.
She rang a little hand-bell. Maggie appeared from the cave. Shewore a plain white bib-less apron, but no cap.
"Maggie, will you have some pie?"
"Yes, if you can spare it, ma'am."
This was Maggie's customary answer to offers of food.
"We can always spare it, Maggie," said her mistress, as usual."Sophia, if you aren't going to use that plate, give it to me."
Maggie disappeared with liberal pie.
Mrs. Baines then talked to Mr. Povey about his condition, and inparticular as to the need for precautions against taking cold inthe bereaved gum. She was a brave and determined woman; from startto finish she behaved as though nothing whatever in the householdexcept her pastry and Mr. Povey had deviated that day from thenormal. She kissed Constance and Sophia with the most exactequality, and called them 'my chucks' when they went up to bed.
"Mother's new dress is quite finished, and she's going to wear iton Sunday," said she, blandly.
"If you say another word I'll scratch your eyes out!" Sophiaturned on her viciously, with a catch in her voice, and then beganto sob at intervals. She did not mean this threat, but itsutterance gave her relief. Constance, faced with the fact that hermother's shoes were too big for her, decided to preserve hereyesight.
Long after the gas was out, rare sobs from Sophia shook the bed,and they both lay awake in silence.
"I suppose you and mother have been talking me over finely to-day?" Sophia burst forth, to Constance's surprise, in a wet voice.
"No," said Constance soothingly. "Mother only told me."
"Told you what?"
"That you wanted to be a teacher."
"And I will be, too!" said Sophia, bitterly.
"You don't know mother," thought Constance; but she made noaudible comment.
There was another detached, hard sob. And then, such is theastonishing talent of youth, they both fell asleep.
The next morning, early, Sophia stood gazing out of the window atthe Square. It was Saturday, and all over the Square littlestalls, with yellow linen roofs, were being erected for theprincipal market of the week. In those barbaric days Bursley had amajestic edifice, black as basalt, for the sale of dead animals bythe limb and rib--it was entitled 'the Shambles'--but vegetables,fruit, cheese, eggs, and pikelets were still sold under canvas.Eggs are now offered at five farthings apiece in a palace thatcost twenty-five thousand pounds. Yet you will find people inBursley ready to assert that things generally are not what theywere, and that in particular the romance of life has gone. Butuntil it has gone it is never romance. To Sophia, though she wasin a mood which usually stimulates the sense of the romantic,there was nothing of romance in this picturesque tented field. Itwas just the market. Holl's, the leading grocer's, was alreadyopen, at the extremity of the Square, and a boy apprentice wassweeping the pavement in front of it. The public-houses were open,several of them specializing in hot rum at 5.30 a.m. The town-crier, in his blue coat with red facings, crossed the Square,carrying his big bell by the tongue. There was the same shockinghole in one of Mrs. Povey's (confectioner's) window-curtains--ahole which even her recent travail could scarcely excuse. Suchmatters it was that Sophia noticed with dull, smarting eyes.
"Sophia, you'll take your death of cold standing there like that!"
She jumped. The voice was her mother's. That vigorous woman, aftera calm night by the side of the paralytic, was already up andneatly dressed. She carried a bottle and an egg-cup, and a smallquantity of jam in a table-spoon.
"Get into bed again, do! There's a dear! You're shivering."
White Sophia obeyed. It was true; she was shivering. Constanceawoke. Mrs. Baines went to the dressing-table and filled the egg-cup out of the bottle.
"Who's that for, mother?" Constance asked sleepily.
"It's for Sophia," said Mrs. Baines, with good cheer. "Now,Sophia!" and she advanced with the egg-cup in one hand and thetable-spoon in the other.
"What is it, mother?" asked Sophia, who well knew what it was.
"Castor-oil, my dear," said Mrs. Baines, winningly.
"I don't want any, mother," said Sophia, in dejection. "I'm quitewell."
"You simply ate nothing all day yesterday," said Mrs. Baines. Andshe added, "Come!" As if to say, "There's always this silly fusswith castor-oil. Don't keep me waiting."
"I don't WANT any," said Sophia, irritated and captious.
The two girls lay side by side, on their backs. They seemed verythin and fragile in comparison with the solidity of their mother.Constance wisely held her peace.
Mrs. Baines put her lips together, meaning: "This is becomingtedious. I shall have to be angry in another moment!"
"Come!" said she again.
The girls could hear her foot tapping on the floor.
"I really don't want it, mamma," Sophia fought. "I suppose I oughtto know whether I need it or not!" This was insolence.
"Sophia, will you take this medicine, or won't you?"
In conflicts with her children, the mother's ultimatum always tookthe formula in which this phrase was cast. The girls knew, whenthings had arrived at the pitch of 'or won't you' spoken in Mrs.Baines's firmest tone, that the end was upon them. Never had theultimatum failed.
There was a silence.
"And I'll thank you to mind your manners," Mrs. Baines added.
"I won't take it," said Sophia, sullenly and flatly; and she hidher face in the pillow.
It was a historic moment in the family life. Mrs. Baines thoughtthe last day had come. But still she held herself in dignity whilethe apocalypse roared in her ears.
"OF COURSE I CAN'T FORCE YOU TO TAKE IT," she said with superbevenness, masking anger by compassionate grief. "You're a big girland a naughty girl. And if you will be ill you must."
Upon this immense admission, Mrs. Baines departed.
Constance trembled.
Nor was that all. In the middle of the morning, when Mrs. Baineswas pricing new potatoes at a stall at the top end of the Square,and Constance choosing threepennyworth of flowers at the samestall, whom should they both see, walking all alone across theempty corner by the Bank, but Sophia Baines! The Square was busyand populous, and Sophia was only visible behind a foreground ofrestless, chattering figures. But she was unmistakably seen. Shehad been beyond the Square and was returning. Constance couldscarcely believe her eyes. Mrs. Baines's heart jumped. For let itbe said that the girls never under any circumstances went forthwithout permission, and scarcely ever alone. That Sophia should beat large in the town, without leave, without notice, exactly as ifshe were her own mistress, was a proposition which a day earlierhad been inconceivable. Yet there she was, and moving with aleisureliness that must be described as effrontery!
Red with apprehension, Constance wondered what would happen. Mrs.Baines said nought of her feelings, did not even indicate that shehad seen the scandalous, the breath-taking sight. And theydescended the Square laden with the lighter portions of what theyhad bought during an hour of buying. They went into the house bythe King Street door; and the first thing they heard was the soundof the piano upstairs. Nothing happened. Mr. Povey had his dinneralone; then the table was laid for them, and the bell rung, andSophia came insolently downstairs to join her mother and sister.And nothing happened. The dinner was silently eaten, and Constancehaving rendered thanks to God, Sophia rose abruptly to go.
"Sophia!"
"Yes, mother."
"Constance, stay where you are," said Mrs. Baines suddenly toConstance, who had meant to flee. Constance was therefore destinedto be present at the happening, doubtless in order to emphasizeits importance and seriousness.
"Sophia," Mrs. Baines resumed to her younger daughter in anominous voice. "No, please shut the door. There is no reason whyeverybody in the house should hear. Come right into the room--right in! That's it. Now, what were you doing out in the town thismorning?"
Sophia was fidgeting nervously with the edge of her little blackapron, and worrying a seam of the carpet with her toes. She benther head towards her left shoulder, at first smiling vaguely. Shesaid nothing, but every limb, every glance, every curve, wasspeaking. Mrs. Baines sat firmly in her own rocking-chair, full ofthe sensation that she had Sophia, as it were, writhing on the endof a skewer. Constance was braced into a moveless anguish.
"I will have an answer," pursued Mrs. Baines. "What were you doingout in the town this morning?"
"I just went out," answered Sophia at length, still with eyesdowncast, and in a rather simpering tone.
"Why did you go out? You said nothing to me about going out. Iheard Constance ask you if you were coming with us to the market,and you said, very rudely, that you weren't."
"I didn't say it rudely," Sophia objected.
"Yes you did. And I'll thank you not to answer back."
"I didn't mean to say it rudely, did I, Constance?" Sophia's headturned sharply to her sister. Constance knew not where to look.
"Don't answer back," Mrs. Baines repeated sternly. "And don't tryto drag Constance into this, for I won't have it."
"Oh, of course Constance is always right!" observed Sophia, withan irony whose unparalleled impudence shook Mrs. Baines to hermassive foundations.
"Do you want me to have to smack you, child?"
Her temper flashed out and you could see ringlets vibrating underthe provocation of Sophia's sauciness. Then Sophia's lower lipbegan to fall and to bulge outwards, and all the muscles of herface seemed to slacken.
(But Mrs. Baines failed.
"You are a very naughty girl," said Mrs. Baines, with restraint.("I've got her," said Mrs. Baines to herself. "I may just as wellkeep my temper.")
And a sob broke out of Sophia. She was behaving like a littlechild. She bore no trace of the young maiden sedately crossing theSquare without leave and without an escort.
("I knew she was going to cry," said Mrs. Baines, breathingrelief.)
"I'm waiting," said Mrs. Baines aloud.
A second sob. Mrs. Baines manufactured patience to meet thedemand.
"You tell me not to answer back, and then you say you're waiting,"Sophia blubbered thickly.
"What's that you say? How can I tell what you say if you talk likethat?" (But Mrs. Baines failed to hear out of discretion, which isbetter than valour.)
"It's of no consequence," Sophia blurted forth in a sob. She wasweeping now, and tears were ricocheting off her lovely crimsoncheeks on to the carpet; her whole body was trembling.
"Don't be a great baby," Mrs. Baines enjoined, with a touch ofrough persuasiveness in her voice.
"It's you who make me cry," said Sophia, bitterly. "You make mecry and then you call me a great baby!" And sobs ran through herframe like waves one after another. She spoke so indistinctly thather mother now really had some difficulty in catching her words.
"Sophia," said Mrs. Baines, with god-like calm, "it is not I whomake you cry. It is your guilty conscience makes you cry. I havemerely asked you a question, and I intend to have an answer."
"I've told you." Here Sophia checked the sobs with an immenseeffort.
"What have you told me?"
"I just went out."
"I will have no trifling," said Mrs. Baines." What did you go outfor, and without telling me? If you had told me afterwards, when Icame in, of your own accord, it might have been different. But no,not a word! It is I who have to ask! Now, quick! I can't wait anylonger."
("I gave way over the castor-oil, my girl," Mrs. Baines said inher own breast. "But not again! Not again.!")
"I don't know," Sophia murmured.
admission, Mrs. Baines departed. spoke so indistinctly.
"What do you mean--you don't know?"
The sobbing recommenced tempestuously. "I mean I don't know. Ijust went out." Her voice rose; it was noisy, but scarcelyarticulate. "What if I did go out?"
"Sophia, I am not going to be talked to like this. If you thinkbecause you're leaving school you can do exactly as you like--"
"Do I want to leave school?" yelled Sophia, stamping. In a momenta hurricane of emotion overwhelmed her, as though that stamping ofthe foot had released the demons of the storm. Her face wastransfigured by uncontrollable passion. "You all want to make memiserable!" she shrieked with terrible violence. "And now I can'teven go out! You are a horrid, cruel woman, and I hate you! Andyou can do what you like! Put me in prison if you like! I knowyou'd be glad if I was dead!"
She dashed from the room, banging the door with a shock that madethe house rattle. And she had shouted so loud that she might havebeen heard in the shop, and even in the kitchen. It was astartling experience for Mrs. Baines. Mrs. Baines, why did yousaddle yourself with a witness? Why did you so positively say thatyou intended to have an answer?
answer back," Mrs. Baines repeated sternly. "
"Really," she stammered, pulling her dignity about her shoulderslike a garment that the wind has snatched off. "I never dreamedthat poor girl had such a dreadful temper! What a pity it is, forher OWN sake!" It was the best she could do.
Constance, who could not bear to witness her mother's humiliation,vanished very quietly from the room. She got halfway upstairs tothe second floor, and then, hearing the loud, rapid, painful,regular intake of sobbing breaths, she hesitated and crept downagain.
This was Mrs. Baines's first costly experience of the childthankless for having been brought into the world. It robbed her ofher profound, absolute belief in herself. She had thought she kneweverything in her house and could do everything there. And lo! shehad suddenly stumbled against an unsuspected personality at largein her house, a sort of hard marble affair that informed her bymeans of bumps that if she did not want to be hurt she must keepout of the way.