章节正文
I looked closely at Ileen to see if Bud had overdone his frankness,
but her pleased smile and sweetlyspoken thanks assured me that we
were on the right track.
"And what do you think, Mr. Jacks?" she asked next.
"Take it from me," said Jacks, "you ain't in the prima donna class.
I've heard 'em warble in every city in the United States; and I tell
you your vocal output don't go. Otherwise, you've got the grand opera
bunch sent to the soap factory--in looks, I mean; for the high
screechers generally look like Mary Ann on her Thursday out. But nix
for the gargle work. Your epiglottis ain't a real side-stepper--its
footwork ain't good."
With a merry laugh at Jacks' criticism, Ileen looked inquiringly at
me.
I admit that I faltered a little. Was there not such a thing as being
too frank? Perhaps I even hedged a little in my verdict; but I stayed
with the critics.
"I am not skilled in scientific music, Miss Ileen," I said, "but,
frankly, I cannot praise very highly the singing-voice that Nature has
given you. It has long been a favorite comparison that a great singer
sings like a bird. Well, there are birds and birds. I would say that
your voice reminds me of the thrush's--throaty and not strong, nor of
much compass or variety--but still--er--sweet--in--er--its--way, and--
er--"
"Thank you, Mr. Harris," interrupted Miss Hinkle. "I knew I could
depend Upon your frankness and honesty."
And then C. Vincent Vesey drew back one sleeve from his snowy cuff,
and the water came down at Lodore.
My memory cannot do justice to his masterly tribute to that priceless,
God-given treasure--Miss Hinkle's voice. He raved over it in terms
that, if they had been addressed to the morning stars when they sang
together, would have made that stellar choir explode in a meteoric
shower of flaming self-satisfaction.
He marshalled on his white finger-tips the grand opera stars of all
the continents, from Jenny Lind to Emma Abbott, only to depreciate
their endowments. He spoke of larynxes, of chest notes, of phrasing,
arpeggios, and other strange paraphernalia of the throaty art. He
admitted, as though driven to a corner, that Jenny Lind had a note or
two in the high register that Miss Hinkle had not yet acquired--but--
"!!!"-that was a mere matter of practice and training.
And, as a peroration, he predicted--solemnly predicted--a career in
vocal art for the "coming star of the Southwest--and one of which
grand old Texas may well be proud," hitherto unsurpassed in the annals
of musical history.
When we left at ten, Ileen gave each of us her usual warm, cordial
handshake, entrancing smile, and invitation to call again. I could
not see that one was favored above or below another--but three of us
knew--we knew.
We knew that frankness and honesty had won, and that the rivals now
numbered three instead of four.
Down at the station Jacks brought out a pint bottle of the proper
stuff, and we celebrated the downfall of a blatant interloper.
Four days went by without anything happeningworthy of recount.
On the fifth, Jacks and I, entering the brush arbor for our supper,
saw the Mexican youth, instead of a divinity in a spotless waist and a
navy-blue skirt, taking in the dollars through the barbed-wire wicket.
We rushed into the kitchen, meeting Pa Hinkle coming out with two cups
of hot coffee in his hands.
"Where's Ileen?" we asked, in recitative.
Pa Hinkle was a kindly man. "Well, gents," said he, "it was a sudden
notion she took; but I've got the money, and I let her have her way.
She's gone to a corn--a conservatory in Boston for four years for to
have her voice cultivated. Now, excuse me to pass, gents, for this
coffee's hot, and my thumbs is tender."
That night there were four instead of three of us sitting on the
station platform and swinging our feet. C. Vincent Vesey was one of
us. We discussed things while dogs barked at the moon that rose, as
big as a five-cent piece or a flour barrel, over the chaparral.
And what we discussed was whether it is better to lie to a woman or to
tell her the truth.
And as all of us were young then, we did not come to a decision.
THE END
but her pleased smile and sweetlyspoken thanks assured me that we
were on the right track.
"And what do you think, Mr. Jacks?" she asked next.
"Take it from me," said Jacks, "you ain't in the prima donna class.
I've heard 'em warble in every city in the United States; and I tell
you your vocal output don't go. Otherwise, you've got the grand opera
bunch sent to the soap factory--in looks, I mean; for the high
screechers generally look like Mary Ann on her Thursday out. But nix
for the gargle work. Your epiglottis ain't a real side-stepper--its
footwork ain't good."
With a merry laugh at Jacks' criticism, Ileen looked inquiringly at
me.
I admit that I faltered a little. Was there not such a thing as being
too frank? Perhaps I even hedged a little in my verdict; but I stayed
with the critics.
"I am not skilled in scientific music, Miss Ileen," I said, "but,
frankly, I cannot praise very highly the singing-voice that Nature has
given you. It has long been a favorite comparison that a great singer
sings like a bird. Well, there are birds and birds. I would say that
your voice reminds me of the thrush's--throaty and not strong, nor of
much compass or variety--but still--er--sweet--in--er--its--way, and--
er--"
"Thank you, Mr. Harris," interrupted Miss Hinkle. "I knew I could
depend Upon your frankness and honesty."
And then C. Vincent Vesey drew back one sleeve from his snowy cuff,
and the water came down at Lodore.
My memory cannot do justice to his masterly tribute to that priceless,
God-given treasure--Miss Hinkle's voice. He raved over it in terms
that, if they had been addressed to the morning stars when they sang
together, would have made that stellar choir explode in a meteoric
shower of flaming self-satisfaction.
He marshalled on his white finger-tips the grand opera stars of all
the continents, from Jenny Lind to Emma Abbott, only to depreciate
their endowments. He spoke of larynxes, of chest notes, of phrasing,
arpeggios, and other strange paraphernalia of the throaty art. He
admitted, as though driven to a corner, that Jenny Lind had a note or
two in the high register that Miss Hinkle had not yet acquired--but--
"!!!"-that was a mere matter of practice and training.
And, as a peroration, he predicted--solemnly predicted--a career in
vocal art for the "coming star of the Southwest--and one of which
grand old Texas may well be proud," hitherto unsurpassed in the annals
of musical history.
When we left at ten, Ileen gave each of us her usual warm, cordial
handshake, entrancing smile, and invitation to call again. I could
not see that one was favored above or below another--but three of us
knew--we knew.
We knew that frankness and honesty had won, and that the rivals now
numbered three instead of four.
Down at the station Jacks brought out a pint bottle of the proper
stuff, and we celebrated the downfall of a blatant interloper.
Four days went by without anything happeningworthy of recount.
On the fifth, Jacks and I, entering the brush arbor for our supper,
saw the Mexican youth, instead of a divinity in a spotless waist and a
navy-blue skirt, taking in the dollars through the barbed-wire wicket.
We rushed into the kitchen, meeting Pa Hinkle coming out with two cups
of hot coffee in his hands.
"Where's Ileen?" we asked, in recitative.
Pa Hinkle was a kindly man. "Well, gents," said he, "it was a sudden
notion she took; but I've got the money, and I let her have her way.
She's gone to a corn--a conservatory in Boston for four years for to
have her voice cultivated. Now, excuse me to pass, gents, for this
coffee's hot, and my thumbs is tender."
That night there were four instead of three of us sitting on the
station platform and swinging our feet. C. Vincent Vesey was one of
us. We discussed things while dogs barked at the moon that rose, as
big as a five-cent piece or a flour barrel, over the chaparral.
And what we discussed was whether it is better to lie to a woman or to
tell her the truth.
And as all of us were young then, we did not come to a decision.
THE END
- spoken [´spəukən]
speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词) - output [´autput] n.产品；产品；计算结果 (初中英语单词)
- otherwise [´ʌðəwaiz] ad.另外 conj.否则 (初中英语单词)
- criticism [´kritisizəm] n.批评；评论(文) (初中英语单词)
- scientific [,saiən´tifik] a.科学(上)的 (初中英语单词)
- comparison [kəm´pærisən] n.比较；对照；比喻 (初中英语单词)
- compass [´kʌmpəs] n.指南针；圆规 (初中英语单词)
- sleeve [sli:v] n.袖子；袖套 (初中英语单词)
- tribute [´tribju:t] n.贡物；献礼；颂词 (初中英语单词)
- driven [´driv(ə)n] drive 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- register [´redʒistə] n.&v.登记簿 (初中英语单词)
- career [kə´riə] n.经历；生涯；职业 (初中英语单词)
- musical [´mju:zikəl] a.音乐的；悦耳的 (初中英语单词)
- invitation [,invi´teiʃən] n.邀请；请帖；吸引 (初中英语单词)
- celebrated [´selibreitid] a.著名的 (初中英语单词)
- worthy [´wə:ði] a.有价值的；值得的 (初中英语单词)
- mexican [´meksikən] n.&a.墨西哥人(语)的 (初中英语单词)
- platform [´plætfɔ:m] n.(平)台；讲台；站台 (初中英语单词)
- barrel [´bærəl] n.(琵琶)桶；圆筒 (初中英语单词)
- sweetly [´swi:tli] ad.甜蜜地；美妙地 (高中英语单词)
- skilled [skild] a.有技能的，熟练的 (高中英语单词)
- hitherto [,hiðə´tu:] ad.至今，迄今 (高中英语单词)
- honesty [´ɔnisti] n.诚实，老实 (高中英语单词)
- verdict [´və:dikt] n.裁决，判决；判定 (英语四级单词)
- flaming [´fleimiŋ] a.熊熊燃烧的；热情的 (英语四级单词)
- happening [´hæpəniŋ] n.事件，偶然发生的事 (英语四级单词)
- divinity [di´viniti] n.神性，神；神学 (英语四级单词)
- assured [ə´ʃuəd] a.确实的 n.被保险人 (英语六级单词)
- warble [´wɔ:bəl] v.&n.(鸟)鸣；颤声 (英语六级单词)
- frankness [´fræŋknis] n.坦白，直率，真诚 (英语六级单词)
- downfall [´daunfɔ:l] n.落下；垮台 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- cultivated [´kʌltiveitid] a.在耕作的；有教养的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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