第 29 页

Not long after their arrival in London he had run across the Duke of St. Austrey, and the Duke, instantly and cordially recognising him, had said: "Look me up, won't you?"--but no proper-spirited American would have considered that a suggestion to be acted on, and the meeting was without a sequel. They had even managed to avoid May's English aunt, the banker's wife, who was still in Yorkshire; in fact, they had purposely postponed going to London till the autumn in order that their arrival during the season might not appear pushing and snobbish to these unknown relatives.

"Probably there'll be nobody at Mrs. Carfry's--London's a desert at this season, and you've made yourself much too beautiful," Archer said to May, who sat at his side in the hansom so spotlessly splendid in her sky-blue cloak edged with swansdown that it seemed wicked to expose her to the London grime.

"I don't want them to think that we dress like savages," she replied, with a scorn that Pocahontas might have resented; and he was struck again by the religious reverence of even the most unworldly American women for the social advantages of dress.

"It's their armour," he thought, "their defence against the unknown, and their defiance of it." And he understood for the first time the earnestness with which May, who was incapable of tying a ribbon in her hair to charm him, had gone through the solemn rite of selecting and ordering her extensive wardrobe.

He had been right in expecting the party at Mrs. Carfry's to be a small one. Besides their hostess and her sister, they found, in the long chilly drawing-room, only another shawled lady, a genial Vicar who was her husband, a silent lad whom Mrs. Carfry named as her nephew, and a small dark gentleman with lively eyes whom she introduced as his tutor, pronouncing a French name as she did so.

Into this dimly-lit and dim-featured group May Archer floated like a swan with the sunset on her: she seemed larger, fairer, more voluminously rustling than her husband had ever seen her; and he perceived that the rosiness and rustlingness were the tokens of an extreme and infantile shyness.

"What on earth will they expect me to talk about?" her helpless eyes implored him, at the very moment that her dazzling apparition was calling forth the same anxiety in their own bosoms. But beauty, even when distrustful of itself, awakens confidence in the manly heart; and the Vicar and the French-named tutor were soon manifesting to May their desire to put her at her ease.

In spite of their best efforts, however, the dinner was a languishing affair. Archer noticed that his wife's way of showing herself at her ease with foreigners was to become more uncompromisingly local in her references, so that, though her loveliness was an encouragement to admiration, her conversation was a chill to repartee. The Vicar soon abandoned the struggle; but the tutor, who spoke the most fluent and accomplished English, gallantly continued to pour it out to her until the ladies, to the manifest relief of all concerned, went up to the drawing-room.

The Vicar, after a glass of port, was obliged to hurry away to a meeting, and the shy nephew, who appeared to be an invalid, was packed off to bed. But Archer and the tutor continued to sit over their wine, and suddenly Archer found himself talking as he had not done since his last symposium with Ned Winsett. The Carfry nephew, it turned out, had been threatened with consumption, and had had to leave Harrow for Switzerland, where he had spent two years in the milder air of Lake Leman. Being a bookish youth, he had been entrusted to M. Riviere, who had brought him back to England, and was to remain with him till he went up to Oxford the following spring; and M. Riviere added with simplicity that he should then have to look out for another job.

It seemed impossible, Archer thought, that he should be long without one, so varied were his interests and so many his gifts. He was a man of about thirty, with a thin ugly face (May would certainly have called him common-looking) to which the play of his ideas gave an intense expressiveness; but there was nothing frivolous or cheap in his animation.

His father, who had died young, had filled a small diplomatic post, and it had been intended that the son should follow the same career; but an insatiable taste for letters had thrown the young man into journalism, then into authorship (apparently unsuccessful), and at length--after other experiments and vicissitudes which he spared his listener--into tutoring English youths in Switzerland. Before that, however, he had lived much in Paris, frequented the Goncourt grenier, been advised by Maupassant not to attempt to write (even that seemed to Archer a dazzling honour!), and had often talked with Merimee in his mother's house. He had obviously always been desperately poor and anxious (having a mother and an unmarried sister to provide for), and it was apparent that his literary ambitions had failed. His situation, in fact, seemed, materially speaking, no more brilliant than Ned Winsett's; but he had lived in a world in which, as he said, no one who loved ideas need hunger mentally. As it was precisely of that love that poor Winsett was starving to death, Archer looked with a sort of vicarious envy at this eager impecunious young man who had fared so richly in his poverty.

"You see, Monsieur, it's worth everything, isn't it, to keep one's intellectual liberty, not to enslave one's powers of appreciation, one's critical independence? It was because of that that I abandoned journalism, and took to so much duller work: tutoring and private secretaryship. There is a good deal of drudgery, of course; but one preserves one's moral freedom, what we call in French one's quant a soi. And when one hears good talk one can join in it without compromising any opinions but one's own; or one can listen, and answer it inwardly. Ah, good conversation--there's nothing like it, is there? The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing. And so I have never regretted giving up either diplomacy or journalism--two different forms of the same self-abdication." He fixed his vivid eyes on Archer as he lit another cigarette. "Voyez-vous, Monsieur, to be able to look life in the face: that's worth living in a garret for, isn't it? But, after all, one must earn enough to pay for the garret; and I confess that to grow old as a private tutor--or a `private' anything--is almost as chilling to the imagination as a second secretaryship at Bucharest. Sometimes I feel I must make a plunge: an immense plunge. Do you suppose, for instance, there would be any opening for me in America-- in New York?"

Archer looked at him with startled eyes. New York, for a young man who had frequented the Goncourts and Flaubert, and who thought the life of ideas the only one worth living! He continued to stare at M. Riviere perplexedly, wondering how to tell him that his very superiorities and advantages would be the surest hindrance to success.

"New York--New York--but must it be especially New York?" he stammered, utterly unable to imagine what lucrative opening his native city could offer to a young man to whom good conversation appeared to be the only necessity.

A sudden flush rose under M. Riviere's sallow skin. "I--I thought it your metropolis: is not the intellectual life more active there?" he rejoined; then, as if fearing to give his hearer the impression of having asked a favour, he went on hastily: "One throws out random suggestions--more to one's self than to others. In reality, I see no immediate prospect--" and rising from his seat he added, without a trace of constraint: "But Mrs. Carfry will think that I ought to be taking you upstairs."

During the homeward drive Archer pondered deeply on this episode. His hour with M. Riviere had put new air into his lungs, and his first impulse had been to invite him to dine the next day; but he was beginning to understand why married men did not always immediately yield to their first impulses.

"That young tutor is an interesting fellow: we had some awfully good talk after dinner about books and things," he threw out tentatively in the hansom.

May roused herself from one of the dreamy silences into which he had read so many meanings before six months of marriage had given him the key to them.

"The little Frenchman? Wasn't he dreadfully common?" she questioned coldly; and he guessed that she nursed a secret disappointment at having been invited out in London to meet a clergyman and a French tutor. The disappointment was not occasioned by the sentiment ordinarily defined as snobbishness, but by old New York's sense of what was due to it when it risked its dignity in foreign lands. If May's parents had entertained the Carfrys in Fifth Avenue they would have offered them something more substantial than a parson and a schoolmaster.

But Archer was on edge, and took her up.

"Common--common WHERE?" he queried; and she returned with unusual readiness: "Why, I should say anywhere but in his school-room. Those people are always awkward in society. But then," she added disarmingly, "I suppose I shouldn't have known if he was clever."

Archer disliked her use of the word "clever" almost as much as her use of the word "common"; but he was beginning to fear his tendency to dwell on the things he disliked in her. After all, her point of view had always been the same. It was that of all the people he had grown up among, and he had always regarded it as necessary but negligible. Until a few months ago he had never known a "nice" woman who looked at life differently; and if a man married it must necessarily be among the nice.

"Ah--then I won't ask him to dine!" he concluded with a laugh; and May echoed, bewildered: "Goodness-- ask the Carfrys' tutor?"

"Well, not on the same day with the Carfrys, if you prefer I shouldn't. But I did rather want another talk with him. He's looking for a job in New York."

Her surprise increased with her indifference: he almost fancied that she suspected him of being tainted with "foreignness."

"A job in New York? What sort of a job? People don't have French tutors: what does he want to do?"

"Chiefly to enjoy good conversation, I understand," her husband retorted perversely; and she broke into an appreciative laugh. "Oh, Newland, how funny! Isn't that FRENCH?"

On the whole, he was glad to have the matter settled for him by her refusing to take seriously his wish to invite M. Riviere. Another after-dinner talk would have made it difficult to avoid the question of New York; and the more Archer considered it the less he was able to fit M. Riviere into any conceivable picture of New York as he knew it.

He perceived with a flash of chilling insight that in future many problems would be thus negatively solved for him; but as he paid the hansom and followed his wife's long train into the house he took refuge in the comforting platitude that the first six months were always the most difficult in marriage. "After that I suppose we shall have pretty nearly finished rubbing off each other's angles," he reflected; but the worst of it was that May's pressure was already bearing on the very angles whose sharpness he most wanted to keep.

“当然啦，亲爱的，我们一定得和卡弗莱太太一起吃饭，”阿切尔说。隔着寄宿处早餐桌上那些不朽的不列颠合金餐具，他妻子皱着眉，焦急地望着他。

秋季的伦敦，阴雨绵绵，一片荒凉。在这儿，纽兰•阿切尔夫妇只有两个熟人，也是两个他们一味要躲避的人，因为按照老纽约的惯例，强行使自己引起国外熟人的注意是有失尊严的。

阿切尔太太和詹妮在去欧洲观光的途中，一惯俗守这一原则，她们以令人费解的矜持对待游伴的友好表示，差不多创下一项纪录——除了旅馆和车站的服务员，她们从没和“外国人”讲过一句话。对于自己的同胞——除了那些早已认识或完全信赖的——更是公然地不屑一顾；因而，在国外的几个月里，除了偶尔遇上奇弗斯、达戈内特或明戈特家的一两个人，始终是她们两个人相互厮守。然而智者千虑也难免一失，在波茨思的一个晚上，住在走廊对面的两位英国女士之一（詹妮已详细了解了她们的姓名、衣着和社会地位），上门寻问阿切尔太太是否有一种药，另一位女士——来者的姐姐，卡弗莱太太——突然患了支气管炎；不带全家庭备用药品决不外出旅游的阿切尔太太碰巧能提供她所需的药。

卡弗莱太太病情很重，而且是和妹妹单独旅行，所以对阿切尔太太及小姐格外感激，是她们提供了独到的安慰，是她们干练的女佣协助护理病人恢复了健康。

阿切尔母女离开波茨恩的时候，根本没想过会再见到卡弗莱太太和哈尔小姐。阿切尔太太认为，没有比强使自己受到外国人——一个因偶然机会提供过帮助的外国人——的关注更“有失尊严”的事了。然而卡弗莱太太和妹妹对这种观点却一无所知，即便知道也会觉得不可理解。她们对在波茨恩善待她们的“愉快的美国人”产生了感激不尽的情结。她们怀着感人的真诚，抓住每一次机会拜会来大陆旅行的阿切尔太太和詹妮，并在打听两人往返美国途经伦敦的时间方面表现出了超凡的精明。这种亲密关系逐渐变得牢不可破，每当阿切尔太太和詹妮下榻于布朗旅馆时，总会发现两位热情的朋友正等着她们。她们还发现这两位朋友跟自己一样，也在沃德箱里种蕨类植物，缝制流苏花边，阅读邦森男爵夫人的回忆录，并对伦敦主要的专栏作家有自己的看法。正如阿切尔太太所说的，认识卡弗莱太太和哈尔小姐，使“伦敦变了样”。到纽兰订婚时，两家的关系已经牢不可破，以致向两位英国女士发出婚礼邀请成了理所当然的事。她们也回赠了一大束装在玻璃匣里的阿尔卑斯压花。当纽兰和妻子即将赴英时，阿切尔太太在码头上最后叮嘱道：“你务必要带梅去看望卡弗莱太太。”

纽兰和梅本不打算遵命，但卡弗莱太太凭着她惯有的精明找到了他们，并发了请柬请他们吃饭；正是为了这份请柬才使梅面对着茶和松饼紧锁愁眉。

“这对你来说没有什么问题，纽兰，你认识他们。可我在一群从没见过的人中间会很害羞的。而且，我穿什么呢？”

纽兰向后靠在椅背上，对她微笑着。她看上去更漂亮了，也更像狄安娜女神了。英格兰湿润的空气使她的面颊越发红润，稍显刻板的少女面容也柔和了，若不然，就是她内心幸福的喜悦像冰层下的灯光那样显露了出来。

“穿什么？亲爱的，我记得上星期从巴黎运来了一箱子衣服嘛。”

“对，当然啦。我的意思是说不知该穿哪一件。”她噘起了小嘴。“我在伦敦还没出去吃过饭，也不想让人笑话。”

他竭力想为她分忧。“可是，英国的女士晚上不也和其他人穿得一样吗？”

“纽兰，你怎么会问这么可笑的问题？要知道，她们去看戏时是穿旧舞装，而且不戴帽子。”

“哎，也许她们在家穿新舞衣。但无论如何，卡弗莱太太和哈尔小姐不会那样。她们戴我母亲戴的那种帽子——还有披肩，非常柔软的披肩。”

“不错，可别的女子会穿什么呢？”

“不会比你穿得更好，亲爱的，”他回答说，心里纳闷是什么原因使她对衣着产生了詹尼那种病态的兴趣。

她叹口气，向后推了推椅子，说：“你真好，纽兰。但这帮不了我多少忙。”

他灵机一动。“干吗不穿结婚礼服？那决不会出错的，对吗？”

“唉，亲爱的！如果在这儿就好了！可我已把它送到巴黎去改了，预备明年冬天用。沃思还没送回来呢。”

“哦，那么——”阿切尔说话间站了起来。“瞧，雾散了。如果我们抓紧时间去国家画廊，或许还可以看一会儿画。”

经历了3个月的新婚旅行，纽兰•阿切尔夫妇踏上了归途。在给女友的信中，梅把这段时光笼统概括为“快乐至极”。

他们没有去意大利的湖区；阿切尔经过深思熟虑，无法设想妻子在那样一种特殊的环境中会是什么模样。她个人的倾向（与巴黎的裁缝呆了一个月后）是7月份爬山，8月份游泳。他们精确地执行了这项计划，在因特雷肯和格林德沃尔德度过了7月；8月则住在诺曼底海岸一个名叫俄特塔的小地方，那儿素以古雅宁静著称。在山峦之中，有一两次，阿切尔曾指着南面说：“那就是意大利。”梅站在龙胆苗圃中，快活地答道：“明年冬天去那儿也很好啊，但愿到时你不必非呆在纽约不可。”

但实际上，她对旅行的兴趣比阿切尔预料的还要小。她认为（一旦定做了衣服）旅行仅仅是增加了散步、骑马、游泳和尝试迷人的新运动——草坪网球——的机会而已。他们最后回到伦敦时（他们将在这儿过两个星期，定做他的衣服），她不再掩饰对航海的渴望。

在伦敦，除了剧院和商店，别的她一概没有兴趣。她发现，这儿的剧院还不及巴黎咖啡馆中的演唱令人兴奋。在爱丽舍大街鲜花盛开的七叶树下，她领略了一种新的阅历——从餐馆阳台上观看下面的一群“风尘女子”，并让丈夫尽量给她解释他认为适合新娘听的歌曲。

阿切尔又恢复了他所继承的有关婚姻的老观念。遵循传统，完全像朋友们对待妻子那样对待梅，这比设法实施他做自由的单身汉时期那些轻率的理论要容易得多。企图解放一位丝毫没有不自由感的妻子是毫无意义的；他早已看出，梅认为自己拥有的那份自由惟一的用途就是摆在妇道的祭坛上。她内心深处的尊严总是阻止她滥用这份天赋，即使有一天（如上次那样），她鼓起勇气全部将它收回，也只是因为她认为对他有益。然而，她对婚姻的理解十分简单淡漠，所以那种危机只潜伏于他个人不可容忍的行为中，她对他的似水柔情使那种情形成为不可能。他知道，无论发生什么情况，她永远都是忠诚的、勇敢的、无怨无悔的，这也保证了他信守同样的美德。

所有这一切都有助于把他拉回熟悉的思想习惯。假如她的单纯意味着只关心那种琐碎无聊的小事，这或许会惹他发火，令他厌恶；然而她的性格特点尽管少得可怜，却都像她的面容那般姣好，因而，她便成了他所熟悉的那些传统与崇尚的守护之神。

这些品质，虽然使她成为一个轻松愉快的伴侣，却不能给国外的旅行带来生气；但他很快就明白了它们在适当的时机会如何各司其职。他不惧怕因此受到压抑，因为他可以像以往一样，于家庭生活之外继续追求他的艺术与知识；而且家庭生活也并不琐碎沉闷——回到妻子身边决不会像在户外散步后走进一间闷热的屋子那样。而且，等他们有了孩子，两个人那些空虚的角落都会被填满的。

在从梅弗尔到卡弗莱姐妹居住的南肯星顿这段漫长迟缓的行程中，阿切尔满脑子想的尽是这些事。他本来也愿意避开朋友的盛情接待——按家族传统，他一贯以观光客和旁观者的身份旅行，摆出一副目中无人的架式。仅仅有一次，刚从哈佛毕业之后，他在佛罗伦斯和一伙奇怪的欧化美国人度过了快活的几周。在豪华旅馆里和有封号的贵族女子整夜地跳舞，在时髦的俱乐部里与花花公子们一赌就是半天；那一切对他来说，显然是世上最快乐的事，但却像狂欢节一样不真实。那些以四海为家的古怪女子，总是深深陷在错综复杂的桃色事件中，她们好像需要向遇到的每一个男人兜售她们的爱情；而那些英俊魁梧的年轻军官和染了头发的老才子，则是她们推心置腹的对象或接受者。这些人与他成长过程中接触的人相距太远，酷似温室里价格昂贵却气味难闻的外来品种，所以无法长久吸引他的想像力。把妻子介绍到那样的群体中是根本不可能的事，而且在那些旅行过程中，也没有人明显表示出渴望与他交往的迹象。

到达伦敦不久，阿切尔就遇到了圣奥斯特雷公爵。公爵立刻认出了他，而且热诚地与他打了招呼：“来看我好吗？”——但没有一个精神正常的美国人会把这句话当真，于是会见也就没了下文。他们甚至设法避开了梅的英国姨妈——那位仍住在约克郡的银行家的妻子。实际上，他们用心良苦地把去伦敦的时间推迟到秋季，就是为了避免让些不相识的亲戚误认为他们在社交季节到达有趋炎附势的意思。