章节正文
to myself in wonder when I felt an impulse to confide in this stranger
and vagabond.
"Jack," said I.
"Mack," said he.
"Mack," said I, "I'll tell you."
"Do you want the dime back in advance ?" said he.
I handed him a dollar.
"The dime," said I, "was the price of listening to your story."
"Right on the point of the jaw," said he. "Go on."
And then, incredible as it may seem to the lovers in the world who
confide their sorrows only to the night wind and the gibbous moon, I
laid bare my secret to that wreck of all things that you would have
supposed to be in sympathy with love.
I told him of the days and weeks and months that I had spent in
adoring Mildred Telfair. I spoke of my despair, my grievous days and
wakeful nights, my dwindling hopes and distress of mind. I even
pictured to this night-prowler her beauty and dignity, the great sway
she had in society, and the magnificence of her life as the elder
daughter of an ancient race whose pride overbalanced the dollars of
the city's millionaires.
"Why don't you cop the lady out?" asked Mack, bringing me down to
earth and dialect again.
I explained to him that my worth was so small, my income so minute,
and my fears so large that I hadn't the courage to speak to her of my
worship. I told him that in her presence I could only blush and
stammer, and that she looked upon me with a wonderful, maddening smile
of amusement.
"She kind of moves in the professional class, don't she?" asked Mack.
"The Telfair family--" I began, haughtily.
"I mean professional beauty," said my hearer.
"She is greatly and widely admired," I answered, cautiously.
"Any sisters?"
"One."
"You know any more girls?"
"Why, several," I answered. "And a few others."
"Say," said Mack, "tell me one thing--can you hand out the dope to
other girls? Can you chin 'em and make matinee eyes at 'em and
squeeze 'em? You know what I mean. You're just shy when it comes to
this particular dame--the professional beauty--ain't that right ?"
"In a way you have outlined the situation with approximate truth," I
admitted.
"I thought so," said Mack, grimly. "Now, that reminds me of my own
case. I'll tell you about it."
I was indignant, but concealed it. What was this loafer's case or
anybody's case compared with mine? Besides, I had given him a dollar
and ten cents.
"Feel my muscle," said my companion, suddenly, flexing his biceps. I
did so mechanically. The fellows in gyms are always asking you to do
that. His arm was as hard as cast-iron.
"Four years ago," said Mack, "I could lick any man in New York outside
of the professional ring. Your case and mine is just the same. I
come from the West Side--between Thirtieth and Fourteenth--I won't
give the number on the door. I was a scrapper when I was ten, and
when I was twenty no amateur in the city could stand up four rounds
with me. 'S a fact. You know Bill McCarty? No? He managed the
smokers for some of them swell clubs. Well, I knocked out everything
Bill brought up before me. I was a middle-weight, but could train
down to a welter when necessary. I boxed all over the West Side at
bouts and benefits and private entertainments, and was never put out
once.
"But, say, the first time I put my foot in the ring with a
professional I was no more than a canned lobster. I dunno how it was-
-I seemed to lose heart. I guess I got too much imagination. There
was a formality and publieness about it that kind of weakened my
nerve. I never won a fight in the ring. Light-weights and all kinds
of scrubs used to sign up with my manager and then walk up and tap me
on the wrist and see me fall. The minute I seen the crowd and a lot
of gents in evening clothes down in front, and seen a professional
come inside the ropes, I got as weak as ginger-ale.
"Of course, it wasn't long till I couldn't get no backers, and I
didn't have any more chances to fight a professional--or many
amateurs, either. But lemme tell you--I was as good as most men
inside the ring or out. It was just that dumb, dead feeling I had
when I was up against a regular that always done me up.
"Well, sir, after I had got out of the business, I got a mighty grouch
on. I used to go round town licking private citizens and all kinds of
unprofessionals just to please myself. I'd lick cops in dark streets
and car-conductors and cab-drivers and draymen whenever I could start
a row with 'em. It didn't make any difference how big they were, or
how much science they had, I got away with 'em. If I'd only just have
had the confidence in the ring that I had beating up the best men
outside of it, I'd be wearing black pearls and heliotrope silk socks
to-day.
"One evening I was walking along near the Bowery, thinking about
things, when along comes a slumming-party. About six or seven they
was, all in swallowtails, and these silk hats that don't shine. One
of the gang kind of shoves me off the sidewalk. I hadn't had a scrap
in three days, and I just says, 'De-lighted!' and hits him back of the
ear.
"Well, we had it. That Johnnie put up as decent a little fight as
you'd want to see in the moving pictures. It was on a side street,
and no cops around. The other guy had a lot of science, but it only
took me about six minutes to lay him out.
"Some of the swallowtails dragged him up against some steps and began
to fan him. Another one of 'em comes over to me and says:
"'Young man, do you know what you've done?'
"'Oh, beat it,' says I. 'I've done nothing but a little punching-bag
work. Take Freddy back to Yale and tell him to quit studying
sociology on the wrong side of the sidewalk.'
"'My good fellow,' says he, 'I don't know who you are, but I'd like
to. You've knocked out Reddy Burns, the champion middle-weight of the
world! He came to New York yesterday, to try to get a match on with
Jim Jeifries. If you--'
"But when I come out of my faint I was laying on the floor in a drug-
store saturated with aromatic spirits of ammonia. If I'd known that
was Reddy Burns, I'd have got down in the gutter and crawled past him
instead of handing him one like I did. Why, if I'd ever been in a
ring and seen him climbing over the ropes, I'd have been all to the
sal volatile.
"So that's what imagination does," concluded Mack. "And, as I said,
your case and mine is simultaneous. You'll never win out. You can't
go up against the professionals. I tell you, it's a park bench for
yours in this romance business."
Mack, the pessimist, laughed harshly.
"I'm afraid I don't see the parallel," I said, coldly. "I have only a
very slight acquaintance with the prize-ring."
The derelict touched my sleeve with his forefinger, for emphasis, as
he explained his parable.
"Every man," said he, with some dignity, "has got his lamps on
something that looks good to him. With you, it's this dame that
you're afraid to say your say to. With me, it was to win out in the
ring. Well, you'll lose just like I did."
"Why do you think I shall lose?" I asked warmly.
"'Cause," said he, "you're afraid to go in the ring. You dassen't
stand up before a professional. Your case and mine is just the same.
You're a amateur; and that means that you'd better keep outside of the
ropes."
"Well, I must be going," I said, rising and looking with elaborate
care at my watch.
When I was twenty feet away the park-bencher called to me.
"Much obliged for the dollar," he said. "And for the dime. But
you'll never get 'er. You're in the amateur class."
"Serves you right," I said to myself, "for hobnobbing with a tramp.
His impudence!"
But, as I walked, his words seemed to repeat themselves over and over
again in my brain. I think I even grew angry at the man.
"I'll show him!" I finally said, aloud. "I'll show him that I can
fight Reddy Burns, too--even knowing who he is."
I hurried to a telephone-booth and rang up the Telfair residence.
A soft, sweet voice answered. Didn't I know that voice? My hand
holding the receiver shook.
"Is that you?" said I, employing the foolish words that form the
vocabulary of every talker through the telephone.
"Yes, this is I," came back the answer in the low, clear-cut tones
that are an inheritance of the Telfairs. "Who is it, please?"
"It's me," said I, less ungrammatically than egotistically. "It's me,
and I've got a few things that I want to say to you right now and
immediately and straight to the point."
"Dear me," said the voice. "Oh, it's you, Mr. Arden!"
I wondered if any accent on the first word was intended; Mildred was
fine at saying things that you had to study out afterward.
"Yes," said I. "I hope so. And now to come down to brass tacks." I
thought that rather a vernacularism, if there is such a word, as soon
as I had said it; but I didn't stop to apologize. "You know, of
course, that I love you, and that I have been in that idiotic state
for a long time. I don't want any more foolish
ness about it--that is, I mean I want an answer from you right now.
Will you marry me or not? Hold the wire, please. Keep out, Central.
Hello, hello! Will you, or will you not.?"
That was just the uppercut for Reddy Burns' chin. The answer came
back:
"Why, Phil, dear, of course I will! I didn't know that you--that is,
you never said--oh, come up to the house, please--I can't say what I
want to over the 'phone. You are so importunate. But please come up
to the house, won't you?"
Would I?
I rang the bell of the Telfair house violently. Some sort of a human
came to the door and shooed me into the drawing-room.
"Oh, well," said I to myself, looking at the ceiling, "any one can
learn from any one. That was a pretty good philosophy of Mack's,
anyhow. He didn't take advantage of his experience, but I get the
benefit of it. If you want to get into the professional class, you've
got to--"
I stopped thinking then. Some one was coming down the stairs. My
knees began to shake. I knew then how Mack had felt when a
professional began to climb over the ropes.
I looked around foolishly for a door or a window by which I might
escape. If it had been any other girl approaching, I mightn't have--
But just then the door opened, and Bess, Mildred's younger sister,
came in. I'd never seen her look so much like a glorified angel. She
walked straight tip to me, and--and--I'd never noticed before what
perfectly wonderful eyes and hair Elizabeth Telfair had.
"Phil," she said, in the Telfair, sweet, thrilling tones, "why didn't
you tell me about it before? I thought it was sister you wanted all
the time, until you telephoned to me a few minutes ago!"
I suppose Mack and I always will be hopelessamateurs. But, as the
thing has turned out in my case, I'm mighty glad of it.
BEST-SELLER
I
One day last summer I went to Pittsburgh--well, I had to go there on
business.
My chair-car was profitably well filled with people of the kind one
usually sees on chair-cars. Most of them were ladies in brown-silk
dresses cut with square yokes, with lace insertion, and dotted veils,
who refused to have the windows raised. Then there was the usual
number of men who looked as if they might be in almost any business
and going almost anywhere. Some students of human nature can look at
a man in a Pullman and tell you where he is from, his occupation and
his stations in life, both flag and social; but I never could. The
only way I can correctly judge a fellow-traveller is when the train is
held up by robbers, or when he reaches at the same time I do for the
and vagabond.
"Jack," said I.
"Mack," said he.
"Mack," said I, "I'll tell you."
"Do you want the dime back in advance ?" said he.
I handed him a dollar.
"The dime," said I, "was the price of listening to your story."
"Right on the point of the jaw," said he. "Go on."
And then, incredible as it may seem to the lovers in the world who
confide their sorrows only to the night wind and the gibbous moon, I
laid bare my secret to that wreck of all things that you would have
supposed to be in sympathy with love.
I told him of the days and weeks and months that I had spent in
adoring Mildred Telfair. I spoke of my despair, my grievous days and
wakeful nights, my dwindling hopes and distress of mind. I even
pictured to this night-prowler her beauty and dignity, the great sway
she had in society, and the magnificence of her life as the elder
daughter of an ancient race whose pride overbalanced the dollars of
the city's millionaires.
"Why don't you cop the lady out?" asked Mack, bringing me down to
earth and dialect again.
I explained to him that my worth was so small, my income so minute,
and my fears so large that I hadn't the courage to speak to her of my
worship. I told him that in her presence I could only blush and
stammer, and that she looked upon me with a wonderful, maddening smile
of amusement.
"She kind of moves in the professional class, don't she?" asked Mack.
"The Telfair family--" I began, haughtily.
"I mean professional beauty," said my hearer.
"She is greatly and widely admired," I answered, cautiously.
"Any sisters?"
"One."
"You know any more girls?"
"Why, several," I answered. "And a few others."
"Say," said Mack, "tell me one thing--can you hand out the dope to
other girls? Can you chin 'em and make matinee eyes at 'em and
squeeze 'em? You know what I mean. You're just shy when it comes to
this particular dame--the professional beauty--ain't that right ?"
"In a way you have outlined the situation with approximate truth," I
admitted.
"I thought so," said Mack, grimly. "Now, that reminds me of my own
case. I'll tell you about it."
I was indignant, but concealed it. What was this loafer's case or
anybody's case compared with mine? Besides, I had given him a dollar
and ten cents.
"Feel my muscle," said my companion, suddenly, flexing his biceps. I
did so mechanically. The fellows in gyms are always asking you to do
that. His arm was as hard as cast-iron.
"Four years ago," said Mack, "I could lick any man in New York outside
of the professional ring. Your case and mine is just the same. I
come from the West Side--between Thirtieth and Fourteenth--I won't
give the number on the door. I was a scrapper when I was ten, and
when I was twenty no amateur in the city could stand up four rounds
with me. 'S a fact. You know Bill McCarty? No? He managed the
smokers for some of them swell clubs. Well, I knocked out everything
Bill brought up before me. I was a middle-weight, but could train
down to a welter when necessary. I boxed all over the West Side at
bouts and benefits and private entertainments, and was never put out
once.
"But, say, the first time I put my foot in the ring with a
professional I was no more than a canned lobster. I dunno how it was-
-I seemed to lose heart. I guess I got too much imagination. There
was a formality and publieness about it that kind of weakened my
nerve. I never won a fight in the ring. Light-weights and all kinds
of scrubs used to sign up with my manager and then walk up and tap me
on the wrist and see me fall. The minute I seen the crowd and a lot
of gents in evening clothes down in front, and seen a professional
come inside the ropes, I got as weak as ginger-ale.
"Of course, it wasn't long till I couldn't get no backers, and I
didn't have any more chances to fight a professional--or many
amateurs, either. But lemme tell you--I was as good as most men
inside the ring or out. It was just that dumb, dead feeling I had
when I was up against a regular that always done me up.
"Well, sir, after I had got out of the business, I got a mighty grouch
on. I used to go round town licking private citizens and all kinds of
unprofessionals just to please myself. I'd lick cops in dark streets
and car-conductors and cab-drivers and draymen whenever I could start
a row with 'em. It didn't make any difference how big they were, or
how much science they had, I got away with 'em. If I'd only just have
had the confidence in the ring that I had beating up the best men
outside of it, I'd be wearing black pearls and heliotrope silk socks
to-day.
"One evening I was walking along near the Bowery, thinking about
things, when along comes a slumming-party. About six or seven they
was, all in swallowtails, and these silk hats that don't shine. One
of the gang kind of shoves me off the sidewalk. I hadn't had a scrap
in three days, and I just says, 'De-lighted!' and hits him back of the
ear.
"Well, we had it. That Johnnie put up as decent a little fight as
you'd want to see in the moving pictures. It was on a side street,
and no cops around. The other guy had a lot of science, but it only
took me about six minutes to lay him out.
"Some of the swallowtails dragged him up against some steps and began
to fan him. Another one of 'em comes over to me and says:
"'Young man, do you know what you've done?'
"'Oh, beat it,' says I. 'I've done nothing but a little punching-bag
work. Take Freddy back to Yale and tell him to quit studying
sociology on the wrong side of the sidewalk.'
"'My good fellow,' says he, 'I don't know who you are, but I'd like
to. You've knocked out Reddy Burns, the champion middle-weight of the
world! He came to New York yesterday, to try to get a match on with
Jim Jeifries. If you--'
"But when I come out of my faint I was laying on the floor in a drug-
store saturated with aromatic spirits of ammonia. If I'd known that
was Reddy Burns, I'd have got down in the gutter and crawled past him
instead of handing him one like I did. Why, if I'd ever been in a
ring and seen him climbing over the ropes, I'd have been all to the
sal volatile.
"So that's what imagination does," concluded Mack. "And, as I said,
your case and mine is simultaneous. You'll never win out. You can't
go up against the professionals. I tell you, it's a park bench for
yours in this romance business."
Mack, the pessimist, laughed harshly.
"I'm afraid I don't see the parallel," I said, coldly. "I have only a
very slight acquaintance with the prize-ring."
The derelict touched my sleeve with his forefinger, for emphasis, as
he explained his parable.
"Every man," said he, with some dignity, "has got his lamps on
something that looks good to him. With you, it's this dame that
you're afraid to say your say to. With me, it was to win out in the
ring. Well, you'll lose just like I did."
"Why do you think I shall lose?" I asked warmly.
"'Cause," said he, "you're afraid to go in the ring. You dassen't
stand up before a professional. Your case and mine is just the same.
You're a amateur; and that means that you'd better keep outside of the
ropes."
"Well, I must be going," I said, rising and looking with elaborate
care at my watch.
When I was twenty feet away the park-bencher called to me.
"Much obliged for the dollar," he said. "And for the dime. But
you'll never get 'er. You're in the amateur class."
"Serves you right," I said to myself, "for hobnobbing with a tramp.
His impudence!"
But, as I walked, his words seemed to repeat themselves over and over
again in my brain. I think I even grew angry at the man.
"I'll show him!" I finally said, aloud. "I'll show him that I can
fight Reddy Burns, too--even knowing who he is."
I hurried to a telephone-booth and rang up the Telfair residence.
A soft, sweet voice answered. Didn't I know that voice? My hand
holding the receiver shook.
"Is that you?" said I, employing the foolish words that form the
vocabulary of every talker through the telephone.
"Yes, this is I," came back the answer in the low, clear-cut tones
that are an inheritance of the Telfairs. "Who is it, please?"
"It's me," said I, less ungrammatically than egotistically. "It's me,
and I've got a few things that I want to say to you right now and
immediately and straight to the point."
"Dear me," said the voice. "Oh, it's you, Mr. Arden!"
I wondered if any accent on the first word was intended; Mildred was
fine at saying things that you had to study out afterward.
"Yes," said I. "I hope so. And now to come down to brass tacks." I
thought that rather a vernacularism, if there is such a word, as soon
as I had said it; but I didn't stop to apologize. "You know, of
course, that I love you, and that I have been in that idiotic state
for a long time. I don't want any more foolish
ness about it--that is, I mean I want an answer from you right now.
Will you marry me or not? Hold the wire, please. Keep out, Central.
Hello, hello! Will you, or will you not.?"
That was just the uppercut for Reddy Burns' chin. The answer came
back:
"Why, Phil, dear, of course I will! I didn't know that you--that is,
you never said--oh, come up to the house, please--I can't say what I
want to over the 'phone. You are so importunate. But please come up
to the house, won't you?"
Would I?
I rang the bell of the Telfair house violently. Some sort of a human
came to the door and shooed me into the drawing-room.
"Oh, well," said I to myself, looking at the ceiling, "any one can
learn from any one. That was a pretty good philosophy of Mack's,
anyhow. He didn't take advantage of his experience, but I get the
benefit of it. If you want to get into the professional class, you've
got to--"
I stopped thinking then. Some one was coming down the stairs. My
knees began to shake. I knew then how Mack had felt when a
professional began to climb over the ropes.
I looked around foolishly for a door or a window by which I might
escape. If it had been any other girl approaching, I mightn't have--
But just then the door opened, and Bess, Mildred's younger sister,
came in. I'd never seen her look so much like a glorified angel. She
walked straight tip to me, and--and--I'd never noticed before what
perfectly wonderful eyes and hair Elizabeth Telfair had.
"Phil," she said, in the Telfair, sweet, thrilling tones, "why didn't
you tell me about it before? I thought it was sister you wanted all
the time, until you telephoned to me a few minutes ago!"
I suppose Mack and I always will be hopelessamateurs. But, as the
thing has turned out in my case, I'm mighty glad of it.
BEST-SELLER
I
One day last summer I went to Pittsburgh--well, I had to go there on
business.
My chair-car was profitably well filled with people of the kind one
usually sees on chair-cars. Most of them were ladies in brown-silk
dresses cut with square yokes, with lace insertion, and dotted veils,
who refused to have the windows raised. Then there was the usual
number of men who looked as if they might be in almost any business
and going almost anywhere. Some students of human nature can look at
a man in a Pullman and tell you where he is from, his occupation and
his stations in life, both flag and social; but I never could. The
only way I can correctly judge a fellow-traveller is when the train is
held up by robbers, or when he reaches at the same time I do for the
- impulse [´impʌls]
n.推动(力)；冲动；刺激 (初中英语单词) - sympathy [´simpəθi] n.同情，怜悯 (初中英语单词)
- despair [di´speə] vi.&n.绝望 (初中英语单词)
- distress [di´stres] n.痛苦 vt.使苦恼 (初中英语单词)
- dignity [´digniti] n.尊严，尊贵；高官显贵 (初中英语单词)
- dialect [´daiəlekt] n.方言，土语，地方话 (初中英语单词)
- income [´inkʌm] n.收入，所得 (初中英语单词)
- professional [prə´feʃənəl] a.职业的 n.自由职业 (初中英语单词)
- companion [kəm´pæniən] n.同伴；同事；伴侣 (初中英语单词)
- amateur [´æmətə, ,æmə´tə:] n.业余爱好者 (初中英语单词)
- imagination [i,mædʒi´neiʃən] n.想象(力) (初中英语单词)
- manager [´mænidʒə] n.经理；管理人；干事 (初中英语单词)
- whenever [wen´evə] conj.&ad.无论何时 (初中英语单词)
- champion [´tʃæmpiən] n.冠军 vt.拥护 (初中英语单词)
- yesterday [´jestədi] n.&ad.昨天；前不久 (初中英语单词)
- romance [rəu´mæns] n.中世纪骑士小说 (初中英语单词)
- coldly [´kəuldli] ad.冷淡地 (初中英语单词)
- acquaintance [ə´kweintəns] n.相识；熟人，相识的人 (初中英语单词)
- sleeve [sli:v] n.袖子；袖套 (初中英语单词)
- knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- accent [´æksənt, æk´sent] n.重音；口音 vt.重读 (初中英语单词)
- philosophy [fi´lɔsəfi] n.哲学；人生观 (初中英语单词)
- advantage [əd´vɑ:ntidʒ] n.优势；利益 (初中英语单词)
- anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- occupation [,ɔkju´peiʃən] a.职业的；军事占领的 (初中英语单词)
- confide [kən´faid] v.委托；吐露；信任 (高中英语单词)
- incredible [in´kredəbəl] a.不能相信的；惊人的 (高中英语单词)
- grimly [´grimli] ad.严厉地；坚强地 (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- sidewalk [´saidwɔ:k] n.人行道 (高中英语单词)
- decent [´di:sənt] a.体面的，正派的 (高中英语单词)
- emphasis [´emfəsis] n.强调；重点 (高中英语单词)
- hurried [´hʌrid] a.仓促的，慌忙的 (高中英语单词)
- receiver [ri´si:və] n.接收者；接待人 (高中英语单词)
- inheritance [in´heritəns] n.继承(物)；遗传；遗产 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- violently [´vaiələntli] ad.强暴地；猛烈地 (高中英语单词)
- hopeless [´həupləs] a.无望的，无可救药的 (高中英语单词)
- correctly [kə´rektli] ad.正确地；恰当地 (高中英语单词)
- grievous [´gri:vəs] a.痛苦的；严重的 (英语四级单词)
- magnificence [mæg´nifisns] n.壮丽；宏伟；豪华 (英语四级单词)
- approximate [ə´prɔksimit] a.近似的 v.接近 (英语四级单词)
- indignant [in´dignənt] a.义愤的，愤慨的 (英语四级单词)
- lobster [´lɔbstə] n.龙虾(肉) (英语四级单词)
- formality [fɔ:´mæliti] n.形式；礼仪；拘谨 (英语四级单词)
- ammonia [ə´məuniə] n.阿摩尼亚；氨 (英语四级单词)
- gutter [´gʌtə] n.(檐)槽；排水沟 (英语四级单词)
- mechanically [mi´kænikəli] ad.机械地；无意识地 (英语六级单词)
- beating [´bi:tiŋ] n.敲；搅打；失败 (英语六级单词)
- aromatic [,ærə´mætik] a.芳香的；芬芳的 (英语六级单词)
- forefinger [´fɔ:,fiŋgə] n.食指 (英语六级单词)
- talker [´tɔ:kə] n.说话人；空谈家 (英语六级单词)
- foolishly [´fu:liʃli] ad.愚蠢地 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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