章节正文
and paused there to let the horses drink and splash in
the swift water. On the right was a rail fence that
cornered there, and followed the road and stream.
Inclosed by it was the old apple orchard of the home
place; the house was yet concealed by the brow of the
steep hill. Inside and along the fence, pokeberries,
elders, sassafras, and sumac grew high and dense. At
a rustle of their branches, both Goree and Coltrane glanced
up, and saw a long, yellow, wolfish face above the fence,
staring at them with pale, unwinking eyes. The head
quicky disappeared; there was a violent swaying of the
bushes, and an ungainly figure ran up through the apple
orchard in the direction of the house, zigzagging among
the trees.
"That's Garvey," said Coltrane; "the man you sold
out to. There's no doubt but he's considerably cracked.
I had to send him up for moonshining, once, several years
ago, in spite of the fact that I believed him irresponsible.
Why, what's the matter, Yancey?"
Goree was wiping his forehead, and his face had lost
its colour. "Do I look queer, too?" he asked, trying
to smile. "I'm just remembering a few more things."
Some of the alcohol had evaporated from his brain. "I
recollect now where I got that two hundred dollars."
"Don't think of it," said Coltrane cheerfully. "Later
on we'll figure it all out together."
They rode out of the branch, and when they reached
the foot of the hill Goree stopped again.
"Did you ever suspect I was a very vain kind of fellow,
Colonel" he asked. "Sort of foolish proud about
appearances?"
The colonel's eyes refused to wander to the soiled, sag-
ging suit of flax and the faded slouch hat.
"It seems to me," he replied, mystified, but humouring
him, "I remember a young buck about twenty, with the
tightest coat, the sleekest hair, and the prancingest saddle
horse in the Blue Ridge."
"Right you are," said Goree eagerly. "And it's in
me yet, though it don't show. Oh, I'm as vain as a
turkey gobbler, and as proud as Lucifer. I'm going to
ask you to indulge this weakness of mine in a little
matter."
"Speak out, Yancey. We'll create you Duke of
Laurel and Baron of Blue Ridge, if you choose; and you
shall have a feather out of Stella's peacock's tail to wear
in your hat."
"I'm in earnest. In a few minutes we'll pass the house
up there on the hill where I was born, and where my
people have lived for nearly a century. Strangers live
there now -- and look at me! I am about to show myself
to them ragged and poverty-stricken, a wastrel and a
beggar. Colonel Coltrane, I'm ashamed to do it. I
want you to let me wear your coat and hat until we are
out of sight beyond. I know you think it a foolish pride,
but I want to make as good a showing as I can when
I pass the old place."
"Now, what does this mean?" said Coltrane to him-
self, as he compared his companion's sane looks and
quiet demeanour with his strange request. But he
was already unbuttoning the coat, assenting readily,
as if the fancy were in no wise to be considered
strange.
The coat and hat fitted Goree well. He buttoned
the former about him with a look of satisfaction and
dignity. He and Coltrane were nearly the same size --
rather tall, portly, and erect. Twenty-five years were
between them, but in appearance they might have
been brothers. Goree looked older than his age;
his face was puffy and lined; the colonel had the
smooth, fresh complexion of a temperate liver. He
put on Goree's disreputable old flax coat and faded
slouch hat.
"Now," said Goree, taking up the reins, "I'm all
right. I want you to ride about ten feet in the rear as we
go by, Colonel, so that they can get a good look at me.
They'll see I'm no back number yet, by any means. I
guess I'll show up pretty well to them once more, any-
how. Let's ride on."
He set out up the hill at a smart trot, the colonel fol-
lowing, as he had been requested.
Goree sat straight in the saddle, with head erect, but
his eyes were turned to the right, sharply scanning every
shrub and fence and hiding-place in the old homestead
yard. Once he muttered to himself, "Will the crazy
fool try it, or did I dream half of it?"
It was when he came opposite the little family burying
ground that he saw what he had been looking for -- a
puff of white smoke, coming from the thick cedars in one
comer. He toppled so slowly to the left that Coltrane
had time to urge his horse to that side, and catch him
with one arm.
The squirrelhunter had not overpraised his aim. He
had sent the bullet where he intended, and where Goree
had expected that it would pass - through the breast
of Colonel Abner Coltrane's black frock coat.
Goree leaned heavily against Coltrane, but he did not
fall. The horses kept pace, side by side, and the Colonel's
arm kept him steady. The little white houses of Laurel
shone through the trees, half a mile away. Goree reached
out one hand and groped until it rested upon Coltrane's
fingers, which held his bridle.
"Good friend," he said, and that was all.
Thus did Yancey Goree, as be rode past his old home,
make, considering all things, the best showing that was
in his power.
THE SONG AND THE SERGEANT
Half a dozen people supping at a table in one of the
upper-Broadway all-night restaurants were making too
much noise. Three times the manager walked past
them with a politelywarning glance; but their argument
had waxed too warm to be quelled by a manager's gaze.
It was midnight, and the restaurant was filled with
patrons from the theatres of that district. Some among
the dispersed audiences must have recognized among the
quarrelsome sextet the faces of the players belonging to
the Carroll Comedy Company.
Four of the six made up the company. Another was
the author of the comedietta, "A Gay Coquette,"
which the quartette of layers had been presenting with
fair success at several vaudeville houses in the city. The
sixth at the table was a person inconsequent in the realm
of art, but one at whose bidding many lobsters had
perished.
Loudly the six maintained their clamorous debate.
No one of the Party was silent except when answers
were stormed from him by the excited ones. That was
the comedian of "A Gay Coquette." He was a young
man with a face even too melancholy for his profession.
The oral warfare of four immoderate tongues was
directed at Miss Clarice Carroll, the twinkling star of the
small aggregation. Excepting the downcastcomedian,
all members of the party united in casting upon her with
vehemence the blame of some momentous misfortune.
Fifty times they told her: "It is your fault, Clarice-
it is you alone who spoilt the scene. It is only of late
that you have acted this way. At this rate the sketch
will have to be taken off."
Miss Carroll was a match for any four. Gallic ancestry
gave her a vivacity that could easily mount to fury. Her
large eyes flashed a scorching denial at her accusers. Her
slender, eloquent arms constantly menaced the tableware.
Her high, clear soprano voice rose to what would have
been a scream had it not possessed so pure a musical
quality. She hurled back at the attacking four their
denunciations in tones sweet, but of too great carrying
power for a Broadway restaurant.
Finally they exhausted her patience both as a woman
and an artist. She sprang up like a panther, managed
to smash half a dozen plates and glasses with one royal
sweep of her arm, and defied her critics. They rose and
wrangled more loudly. The comedian sighed and looked
a trifle sadder and disinterested. The manager came
tripping and suggested peace. He was told to go to the
popular synonym for war so promptly that the affair
might have happened at The Hague.
Thus was the manager angered. He made a sign
with his hand and a waiter slipped out of the door. In
twenty minutes the party of six was in a police station
facing a grizzled and philosophical desk sergeant.
"Disorderly conduct in a restaurant," said the police-
man who had brought the party in.
The author of "A Gay Coquette" stepped to the front.
He wore nose-glasses and evening clothes, even if his shoes
had been tans before they met the patent-leather-polish
bottle.
"Mr. Sergeant," said he, out of his throat, like Actor
Irving, "I would like to protest against this arrest. The
company of actors who are performing in a little play
that I have written, in company with a friend and myself
were having a little supper. We became deeply interested
in the discussion as to which one of the cast is responsible
for a scene in the sketch that lately has fallen so flat that
the piece is about to become a failure. We may have
been rather noisy and intolerant of interruption by the
restaurant people; but the matter was of considerable
importance to all of us. You see that we are sober and
are not the kind of people who desire to raise disturbances.
I hope that the case will not be pressed and that we may
be allowed to go."
"Who makes the charge?" asked the sergeant.
"Me," said a white-aproned voice in the rear. "De
restaurant sent me to. De gang was raisin' a rough-
house and breakin' dishes."
"The dishes were paid for," said the playwright.
"They were not broken purposely. In her anger, because
we remonstrated with her for spoiling the scene, Miss -- "
"It's not true, sergeant," cried the clear voice of Miss.
Clarice Carroll. In a long coat of tan silk and a red-
plumed hat, she bounded before the desk.
"It's not my fault," she cried indignantly. "How-
dare they say such a thing! I've played the title r锟絣e
ever since it was staged, and if you want to know who made
it a success, ask the public -- that's all."
"What Miss Carroll says is true in part," said the
author. "For five months the comedietta was a drawing-
card in the best houses. But during the last two weeks
it has lost favour. There is one scene in it in which Miss
Carroll made a big hit. Now she hardly gets a hand out
of it. She spoils it by acting it entirely different from
her old way."
"It is not my fault," reiterated the actress.
the swift water. On the right was a rail fence that
cornered there, and followed the road and stream.
Inclosed by it was the old apple orchard of the home
place; the house was yet concealed by the brow of the
steep hill. Inside and along the fence, pokeberries,
elders, sassafras, and sumac grew high and dense. At
a rustle of their branches, both Goree and Coltrane glanced
up, and saw a long, yellow, wolfish face above the fence,
staring at them with pale, unwinking eyes. The head
quicky disappeared; there was a violent swaying of the
bushes, and an ungainly figure ran up through the apple
orchard in the direction of the house, zigzagging among
the trees.
"That's Garvey," said Coltrane; "the man you sold
out to. There's no doubt but he's considerably cracked.
I had to send him up for moonshining, once, several years
ago, in spite of the fact that I believed him irresponsible.
Why, what's the matter, Yancey?"
Goree was wiping his forehead, and his face had lost
its colour. "Do I look queer, too?" he asked, trying
to smile. "I'm just remembering a few more things."
Some of the alcohol had evaporated from his brain. "I
recollect now where I got that two hundred dollars."
"Don't think of it," said Coltrane cheerfully. "Later
on we'll figure it all out together."
They rode out of the branch, and when they reached
the foot of the hill Goree stopped again.
"Did you ever suspect I was a very vain kind of fellow,
Colonel" he asked. "Sort of foolish proud about
appearances?"
The colonel's eyes refused to wander to the soiled, sag-
ging suit of flax and the faded slouch hat.
"It seems to me," he replied, mystified, but humouring
him, "I remember a young buck about twenty, with the
tightest coat, the sleekest hair, and the prancingest saddle
horse in the Blue Ridge."
"Right you are," said Goree eagerly. "And it's in
me yet, though it don't show. Oh, I'm as vain as a
turkey gobbler, and as proud as Lucifer. I'm going to
ask you to indulge this weakness of mine in a little
matter."
"Speak out, Yancey. We'll create you Duke of
Laurel and Baron of Blue Ridge, if you choose; and you
shall have a feather out of Stella's peacock's tail to wear
in your hat."
"I'm in earnest. In a few minutes we'll pass the house
up there on the hill where I was born, and where my
people have lived for nearly a century. Strangers live
there now -- and look at me! I am about to show myself
to them ragged and poverty-stricken, a wastrel and a
beggar. Colonel Coltrane, I'm ashamed to do it. I
want you to let me wear your coat and hat until we are
out of sight beyond. I know you think it a foolish pride,
but I want to make as good a showing as I can when
I pass the old place."
"Now, what does this mean?" said Coltrane to him-
self, as he compared his companion's sane looks and
quiet demeanour with his strange request. But he
was already unbuttoning the coat, assenting readily,
as if the fancy were in no wise to be considered
strange.
The coat and hat fitted Goree well. He buttoned
the former about him with a look of satisfaction and
dignity. He and Coltrane were nearly the same size --
rather tall, portly, and erect. Twenty-five years were
between them, but in appearance they might have
been brothers. Goree looked older than his age;
his face was puffy and lined; the colonel had the
smooth, fresh complexion of a temperate liver. He
put on Goree's disreputable old flax coat and faded
slouch hat.
"Now," said Goree, taking up the reins, "I'm all
right. I want you to ride about ten feet in the rear as we
go by, Colonel, so that they can get a good look at me.
They'll see I'm no back number yet, by any means. I
guess I'll show up pretty well to them once more, any-
how. Let's ride on."
He set out up the hill at a smart trot, the colonel fol-
lowing, as he had been requested.
Goree sat straight in the saddle, with head erect, but
his eyes were turned to the right, sharply scanning every
shrub and fence and hiding-place in the old homestead
yard. Once he muttered to himself, "Will the crazy
fool try it, or did I dream half of it?"
It was when he came opposite the little family burying
ground that he saw what he had been looking for -- a
puff of white smoke, coming from the thick cedars in one
comer. He toppled so slowly to the left that Coltrane
had time to urge his horse to that side, and catch him
with one arm.
The squirrelhunter had not overpraised his aim. He
had sent the bullet where he intended, and where Goree
had expected that it would pass - through the breast
of Colonel Abner Coltrane's black frock coat.
Goree leaned heavily against Coltrane, but he did not
fall. The horses kept pace, side by side, and the Colonel's
arm kept him steady. The little white houses of Laurel
shone through the trees, half a mile away. Goree reached
out one hand and groped until it rested upon Coltrane's
fingers, which held his bridle.
"Good friend," he said, and that was all.
Thus did Yancey Goree, as be rode past his old home,
make, considering all things, the best showing that was
in his power.
THE SONG AND THE SERGEANT
Half a dozen people supping at a table in one of the
upper-Broadway all-night restaurants were making too
much noise. Three times the manager walked past
them with a politelywarning glance; but their argument
had waxed too warm to be quelled by a manager's gaze.
It was midnight, and the restaurant was filled with
patrons from the theatres of that district. Some among
the dispersed audiences must have recognized among the
quarrelsome sextet the faces of the players belonging to
the Carroll Comedy Company.
Four of the six made up the company. Another was
the author of the comedietta, "A Gay Coquette,"
which the quartette of layers had been presenting with
fair success at several vaudeville houses in the city. The
sixth at the table was a person inconsequent in the realm
of art, but one at whose bidding many lobsters had
perished.
Loudly the six maintained their clamorous debate.
No one of the Party was silent except when answers
were stormed from him by the excited ones. That was
the comedian of "A Gay Coquette." He was a young
man with a face even too melancholy for his profession.
The oral warfare of four immoderate tongues was
directed at Miss Clarice Carroll, the twinkling star of the
small aggregation. Excepting the downcastcomedian,
all members of the party united in casting upon her with
vehemence the blame of some momentous misfortune.
Fifty times they told her: "It is your fault, Clarice-
it is you alone who spoilt the scene. It is only of late
that you have acted this way. At this rate the sketch
will have to be taken off."
Miss Carroll was a match for any four. Gallic ancestry
gave her a vivacity that could easily mount to fury. Her
large eyes flashed a scorching denial at her accusers. Her
slender, eloquent arms constantly menaced the tableware.
Her high, clear soprano voice rose to what would have
been a scream had it not possessed so pure a musical
quality. She hurled back at the attacking four their
denunciations in tones sweet, but of too great carrying
power for a Broadway restaurant.
Finally they exhausted her patience both as a woman
and an artist. She sprang up like a panther, managed
to smash half a dozen plates and glasses with one royal
sweep of her arm, and defied her critics. They rose and
wrangled more loudly. The comedian sighed and looked
a trifle sadder and disinterested. The manager came
tripping and suggested peace. He was told to go to the
popular synonym for war so promptly that the affair
might have happened at The Hague.
Thus was the manager angered. He made a sign
with his hand and a waiter slipped out of the door. In
twenty minutes the party of six was in a police station
facing a grizzled and philosophical desk sergeant.
"Disorderly conduct in a restaurant," said the police-
man who had brought the party in.
The author of "A Gay Coquette" stepped to the front.
He wore nose-glasses and evening clothes, even if his shoes
had been tans before they met the patent-leather-polish
bottle.
"Mr. Sergeant," said he, out of his throat, like Actor
Irving, "I would like to protest against this arrest. The
company of actors who are performing in a little play
that I have written, in company with a friend and myself
were having a little supper. We became deeply interested
in the discussion as to which one of the cast is responsible
for a scene in the sketch that lately has fallen so flat that
the piece is about to become a failure. We may have
been rather noisy and intolerant of interruption by the
restaurant people; but the matter was of considerable
importance to all of us. You see that we are sober and
are not the kind of people who desire to raise disturbances.
I hope that the case will not be pressed and that we may
be allowed to go."
"Who makes the charge?" asked the sergeant.
"Me," said a white-aproned voice in the rear. "De
restaurant sent me to. De gang was raisin' a rough-
house and breakin' dishes."
"The dishes were paid for," said the playwright.
"They were not broken purposely. In her anger, because
we remonstrated with her for spoiling the scene, Miss -- "
"It's not true, sergeant," cried the clear voice of Miss.
Clarice Carroll. In a long coat of tan silk and a red-
plumed hat, she bounded before the desk.
"It's not my fault," she cried indignantly. "How-
dare they say such a thing! I've played the title r锟絣e
ever since it was staged, and if you want to know who made
it a success, ask the public -- that's all."
"What Miss Carroll says is true in part," said the
author. "For five months the comedietta was a drawing-
card in the best houses. But during the last two weeks
it has lost favour. There is one scene in it in which Miss
Carroll made a big hit. Now she hardly gets a hand out
of it. She spoils it by acting it entirely different from
her old way."
"It is not my fault," reiterated the actress.
- splash [splæʃ]
v.&n.溅水声；涉水而进 (初中英语单词) - orchard [´ɔ:tʃəd] n.果园 (初中英语单词)
- rustle [´rʌsl] v.&n.(使)沙沙作响 (初中英语单词)
- violent [´vaiələnt] a.强暴的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- alcohol [´ælkəhɔl] n.酒精；醇 (初中英语单词)
- suspect [´sʌspekt, sə´spekt] v.怀疑；觉得 n.嫌疑犯 (初中英语单词)
- wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- eagerly [´i:gəli] ad.渴望地，急切地 (初中英语单词)
- weakness [´wi:knis] n.虚弱；弱点，缺点 (初中英语单词)
- feather [´feðə] n.羽毛 (初中英语单词)
- earnest [´ə:nist] a.认真的 n.认真；诚恳 (初中英语单词)
- ashamed [ə´ʃeimd] a.惭愧；不好意思 (初中英语单词)
- satisfaction [,sætis´fækʃən] n.满意；满足 (初中英语单词)
- saddle [´sædl] n.鞍子 v.装鞍(于) (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- squirrel [´skwirəl] n.松鼠 (初中英语单词)
- hunter [´hʌntə] n.猎人；猎狗；猎马 (初中英语单词)
- bullet [´bulit] n.子弹 (初中英语单词)
- manager [´mænidʒə] n.经理；管理人；干事 (初中英语单词)
- midnight [´midnait] n.午夜；漆黑 (初中英语单词)
- restaurant [´restərɔnt] n.饭店，菜馆 (初中英语单词)
- constantly [´kɔnstəntli] ad.经常地；不断地 (初中英语单词)
- scream [skri:m] v.&n.尖叫(声) (初中英语单词)
- patience [´peiʃəns] n.忍耐(力)；耐心；坚韧 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- trifle [´traifəl] n.琐事，小事；少量 (初中英语单词)
- promptly [´prɔmptli] ad.敏捷地；即时地 (初中英语单词)
- throat [θrəut] n.咽喉；嗓子；出入口 (初中英语单词)
- arrest [ə´rest] vt.逮捕 n.逮捕；停止 (初中英语单词)
- discussion [di´skʌʃən] n.讨论；辩论 (初中英语单词)
- sketch [sketʃ] n.素描；短剧 v.草拟 (初中英语单词)
- lately [´leitli] ad.近来，不久前 (初中英语单词)
- failure [´feiljə] n.失败；衰竭；破产 (初中英语单词)
- interruption [intə´rʌpʃ(ə)n] n.停止，中断 (初中英语单词)
- acting [´æktiŋ] a.代理的 n.演戏 (初中英语单词)
- considerably [kən´sidərəbli] ad.显著地；十分 (高中英语单词)
- cheerfully [´tʃiəfuli] ad.高兴地，愉快地 (高中英语单词)
- indulge [in´dʌldʒ] v.(使)沉迷；沉溺；放任 (高中英语单词)
- ragged [´rægid] a.衣服破烂的 (高中英语单词)
- colonel [´kə:nəl] n.海(陆)军上校 (高中英语单词)
- complexion [kəm´plekʃən] n.肤色；情况；局面 (高中英语单词)
- temperate [´tempərit] a.有节制的；温和的 (高中英语单词)
- politely [pə´laitli] ad.温和地；文雅地 (高中英语单词)
- comedy [´kɔmidi] n.喜剧；喜剧场面 (高中英语单词)
- melancholy [´melənkəli] n.忧郁 a.忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- warfare [´wɔ:feə] n.战争；斗争；竞争 (高中英语单词)
- broadway [´brɔ:dwei] n.&a.百老汇大街(的) (高中英语单词)
- actress [´æktris] n.女演员 (高中英语单词)
- demeanour [di´mi:nə] n.行为；举止；态度 (英语四级单词)
- considering [kən´sidəriŋ] prep.就...而论 (英语四级单词)
- warning [´wɔ:niŋ] n.警告；前兆 a.预告的 (英语四级单词)
- eloquent [´eləkwənt] a.流利的；雄辩的 (英语四级单词)
- waiter [´weitə] n.侍者，服务员 (英语四级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- vaudeville [´vɔ:dəvil] n.滑稽通俗喜剧；杂耍 (英语六级单词)
- clamorous [´klæmərəs] a.喧闹的；吵吵嚷嚷的 (英语六级单词)
- comedian [kə´mi:diən] n.喜剧演员；滑稽人物 (英语六级单词)
- downcast [´daunkɑ:st] a.沮丧的；向下看的 (英语六级单词)
- denial [di´naiəl] n.否认；拒绝 (英语六级单词)
- panther [´pænθə] n.豹；美洲狮 (英语六级单词)
- philosophical [,filə´sɔfikəl] a.哲学(上)的；冷静的 (英语六级单词)
- indignantly [in´dignəntli] ad.愤慨地，义愤地 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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