章节正文
"I am going to look for Jesse Holmes," I an-
swered, with dignity and reserve.
TRANSIENTS IN ARCADIA
There is a hotel on Broadway that has escaped
discovery by the summer-resort promoters. It is
deep and wide and cool. Its rooms are finished in
dark oak of a low temperature. Home-made breezes
and deep-green shrubbery give it the delights without
the inconveniences of the Adirondacks. One can
mount its broad staircases or glide dreamily upward
in its aerial elevators, attended by guides in brass but-
tons, with a serene joy that Alpine climbers have
never attained. There is a chef in its kitchen who
will prepare for you brook trout better than the White
Mountains ever served, sea food that would turn Old
Point Comfort -- "by Gad, sah!" -- green with
envy, and Maine venison that would melt the official
heart of a game warden.
A few have found out this oasis in the July desert
of Manhattan. During that month you will see the
hotel's reduced array of guests scattered luxuriously
about in the cool twilight of -- its lofty dining-room,
gazing at one another across the snowy waste of un-
occupied tables, silently congratulatory.
Superfluous, watchful, pneumatically moving wait-
ers hover near, supplying every want before it is ex-
pressed. The temperature is perpetual April. The
ceiling is painted in water colors to counterfeit" target="_blank" title="a.伪造的 v.&n.伪造">counterfeit a sum-
mer sky across which delicate clouds drift and do not
vanish as those of nature do to our regret.
The pleasing, distant roar of Broadway is trans-
formed in the imagination of the happy guests to the
noise of a waterfall filling the woods with its restful
sound. At every strange footstep the guests turn an
anxious ear, fearful lest their retreat be discovered
and invaded by the restless pleasure-seekers who are
forever hounding nature to her deepest lairs.
Thus in the depopulated caravansary the little
band of connoisseurs jealously bide themselves during
the heated season, enjoying to the uttermost the de-
lights of mountain and seashore that art and skill
have gathered and served to them.
In this July came to the hotel one whose card that
she sent to the clerk for her name to be registered
read "Mme. He1oise D'Arcy Beaumont."
Madame Beaumont was a guest such as the Hotel
Lotus loved. She possessed the fine air of the e1ite,
tempered and sweetened by a cordial graciousness
that made the hotel employees her slaves. Bell-boys
fought for the honor of answering her ring; the
clerks, but for the question of ownership, would have
deeded to her the hotel and its contents; the other
guests regarded her as the final touch of feminine
exclusiveness and beauty that rendered the entourage
perfect.
This super-excellent guest rarely left the hotel.
Her habits were consonant with the customs of the dis-
criminating patrons of the Hotel Lotus. To enjoy
that delectable hostelry one must forego the city as
though it were leagues away. By night a brief ex-
cursion to the nearby roofs is in order; but during
the torrid day one remains in the umbrageous fast-
nesses of the Lotus as a trout hangs poised in the pel-
lucid sanctuaries of his favorite pool.,
Though alone in the Hotel Lotus, Madame Beau-
mont preserved the state of a queen whose loneliness
was of position only. She breakfasted at ten, a cool,
sweet, leisurely, delicate being who glowed softly in
the dimness like a jasmine flower in the dusk.
But at dinner was Madame's glory at its height.
She wore a gown as beautiful and immaterial as the
mist from an unseencataract in a mountain gorge.
The nomenclature of this gown is beyond the guess
of the scribe. Always pale-red roses reposed against
its lace-garnished front. It was a gown that the
bead-waiter viewed with respect and met at the door.
You thought of Paris when you saw it, and maybe of
mysterious countesses, and certainly of Versailles and
rapiers and Mrs. Fiske and rouge-et-noir. There was
an untraceable rumor in the Hotel Lotus that
Madame was a cosmopolite, and that she was pulling
with her slender white bands certain strings between
the nations in the favor of Russia. Being a citi-
zeness of the world's smoothest roads it was small
wonder that she was quick to recognize in the refined
purlieus of the Hotel Lotus the most desirable spot in
America for a restful sojourn during the heat of mid-
summer.
On the third day of Madame Beaumont's residence
in the hotel a young man entered and registered him-
self as a guest. His clothing -- to speak of his
points in approved order -- was quietly in the mode;
his features good and regular; his expression that of
a poised and sophisticated man of the world. He in-
formed the clerk that he would remain three or four
days, inquired concerning the sailing of European
steamships, and sank into the blissful inanition of the
nonpareil hotel with the contented air of a traveller in
his favorite inn.
The young man -- not to question the veracity of
the register -- was Harold Farrington. He drifted
into the exclusive and calm current of life in the Lotus
so tactfully and silently that not a ripple alarmed his
fellow-seekers after rest. He ate in the Lotus and
of its patronym, and was lulled into blissful peace
with the other fortunate mariners. In one day he
acquired his table and his waiter and the fear lest the
panting chasers after repose that kept Broadway
warm should pounce upon and destroy this contiguous
but covert haven.
After dinner on the next day after the arrival of
Harold Farrington Madame Beaumont dropped her
handkerchief in passing out. Mr. Farrington recov-
ered and returned it without the effusiveness of a
seeker after acquaintance.
Perhaps there was a mystic freemasonry between
the discriminating guests of the Lotus. Perhaps
they were drawn one to another by the fact of their
common good fortune in discovering the acme of sum-
mer resorts in a Broadway hotel. Words delicate in
courtesy and tentative in departure from formality
passed between the two. And, as if in the expedient
atmosphere of a real summer resort, an acquaintance
grew, flowered and fructified on the spot as does the
mystic plant of the conjuror. For a few moments
they stood on a balcony upon which the corridor
ended, and tossed the feathery ball of conversation.
"One tires of the old resorts," said Madame Beau-
mont, with a faint but sweet smile. "What is the use
to fly to the mountains or the seashore to escape noise
and dust when the very people that make both follow
us there?"
"Even on the ocean," remarked Farrington, sadly,
"the Philistines be upon you. The most exclusive
steamers are getting to be scarcely more than ferry
boats. Heaven help us when the summer resorter dis-
covers that the Lotus is further away from Broadway
than Thousand Islands or Mackinac."
"I hope our secret will be safe for a week, any-
how," said Madame, with a sigh and a smile. "I do
not know where I would go if they should descend
upon the dear Lotus. I know of but one place so de-
lightful in summer, and that is the castle of Count
Polinski, in the Ural Mountains."
"I hear that Baden-Baden and Cannes are almost
deserted this season," said Farrington. "Year by
year the old resorts fall in disrepute. Perhaps many
others, like ourselves, are seeking out the quiet nooks
that are overlooked by the majority."
"I promise myself three days more of this delicious
rest," said Madame Beaumont. "On Monday the
Cedric sails."
Harold Farrington's eyes proclaimed his regret.
"I too must leave on Monday," he said, "but I do
not go abroad."
Madame Beaumont shrugged one round shoulder in
a foreign gesture.
"One cannot bide here forever, charming though it
may be. The chateau has been in preparation for me
longer than a month. Those house parties that one
must give -- what a nuisance! But I shall never for-
get my week in the Hotel Lotus."
"Nor shall I," said Farrington in a low voice,
and I shall never forgive the Cedric."
On Sunday evening, three days afterward, the two
sat at a little table on the same balcony. A discreet
waiter brought ices and small glasses of claret cup.
Madame Beaumont wore the same beautiful even-
ing gown that she had worn each day at dinner. She
seemed thoughtful. Near her hand on the table lay a
small chatelaine purse. After she had eaten her ice
she opened the purse and took out a one-dollar bill.
"Mr. Farrington," she said, with the smile that
had won the Hotel Lotus, "I want to tell you some-
thing. I'm going to leave before breakfast in the
morning, because I've got to go back to my work.
I'm behind the hosiery counter at Casey's Mammoth
Store, and my vacation's up at eight o'clock to-
morrow. That paper-dollar is the last cent I'll see
till I draw my eight dollars salary next Saturday
night. You're a real gentleman, and you've been
good to me, and I wanted to tell you before I went.
I've been saving up out of my wages for a year
just for this vacation. I wanted to spend one week
like a lady if I never do another one. I wanted to
get up when I please instead of having to crawl out
at seven every morning; and I wanted to live on the
best and be waited on and ring bells for things just
like rich folks do. Now I've done it, and I've had the
happiest time I ever expect to have in my life. I'm
going back to my work and my little hall bedroom
satisfied for another year. I wanted to tell you
about it, Mr. Farrington, because I -- I thought you
kind of liked me, and I -- I liked you. But, oh, I
couldn't help deceiving you up till now, for it was all
just like a fairy tale to me. So I talked about Eu-
rope and the things I've read about in other countries,
and made you think I was a great lady.
"This dress I've got on -- it's the only one I have
that's fit to wear -- I bought from O'Dowd & Levin-
sky on the instalment plan."
swered, with dignity and reserve.
TRANSIENTS IN ARCADIA
There is a hotel on Broadway that has escaped
discovery by the summer-resort promoters. It is
deep and wide and cool. Its rooms are finished in
dark oak of a low temperature. Home-made breezes
and deep-green shrubbery give it the delights without
the inconveniences of the Adirondacks. One can
mount its broad staircases or glide dreamily upward
in its aerial elevators, attended by guides in brass but-
tons, with a serene joy that Alpine climbers have
never attained. There is a chef in its kitchen who
will prepare for you brook trout better than the White
Mountains ever served, sea food that would turn Old
Point Comfort -- "by Gad, sah!" -- green with
envy, and Maine venison that would melt the official
heart of a game warden.
A few have found out this oasis in the July desert
of Manhattan. During that month you will see the
hotel's reduced array of guests scattered luxuriously
about in the cool twilight of -- its lofty dining-room,
gazing at one another across the snowy waste of un-
occupied tables, silently congratulatory.
Superfluous, watchful, pneumatically moving wait-
ers hover near, supplying every want before it is ex-
pressed. The temperature is perpetual April. The
ceiling is painted in water colors to counterfeit" target="_blank" title="a.伪造的 v.&n.伪造">counterfeit a sum-
mer sky across which delicate clouds drift and do not
vanish as those of nature do to our regret.
The pleasing, distant roar of Broadway is trans-
formed in the imagination of the happy guests to the
noise of a waterfall filling the woods with its restful
sound. At every strange footstep the guests turn an
anxious ear, fearful lest their retreat be discovered
and invaded by the restless pleasure-seekers who are
forever hounding nature to her deepest lairs.
Thus in the depopulated caravansary the little
band of connoisseurs jealously bide themselves during
the heated season, enjoying to the uttermost the de-
lights of mountain and seashore that art and skill
have gathered and served to them.
In this July came to the hotel one whose card that
she sent to the clerk for her name to be registered
read "Mme. He1oise D'Arcy Beaumont."
Madame Beaumont was a guest such as the Hotel
Lotus loved. She possessed the fine air of the e1ite,
tempered and sweetened by a cordial graciousness
that made the hotel employees her slaves. Bell-boys
fought for the honor of answering her ring; the
clerks, but for the question of ownership, would have
deeded to her the hotel and its contents; the other
guests regarded her as the final touch of feminine
exclusiveness and beauty that rendered the entourage
perfect.
This super-excellent guest rarely left the hotel.
Her habits were consonant with the customs of the dis-
criminating patrons of the Hotel Lotus. To enjoy
that delectable hostelry one must forego the city as
though it were leagues away. By night a brief ex-
cursion to the nearby roofs is in order; but during
the torrid day one remains in the umbrageous fast-
nesses of the Lotus as a trout hangs poised in the pel-
lucid sanctuaries of his favorite pool.,
Though alone in the Hotel Lotus, Madame Beau-
mont preserved the state of a queen whose loneliness
was of position only. She breakfasted at ten, a cool,
sweet, leisurely, delicate being who glowed softly in
the dimness like a jasmine flower in the dusk.
But at dinner was Madame's glory at its height.
She wore a gown as beautiful and immaterial as the
mist from an unseencataract in a mountain gorge.
The nomenclature of this gown is beyond the guess
of the scribe. Always pale-red roses reposed against
its lace-garnished front. It was a gown that the
bead-waiter viewed with respect and met at the door.
You thought of Paris when you saw it, and maybe of
mysterious countesses, and certainly of Versailles and
rapiers and Mrs. Fiske and rouge-et-noir. There was
an untraceable rumor in the Hotel Lotus that
Madame was a cosmopolite, and that she was pulling
with her slender white bands certain strings between
the nations in the favor of Russia. Being a citi-
zeness of the world's smoothest roads it was small
wonder that she was quick to recognize in the refined
purlieus of the Hotel Lotus the most desirable spot in
America for a restful sojourn during the heat of mid-
summer.
On the third day of Madame Beaumont's residence
in the hotel a young man entered and registered him-
self as a guest. His clothing -- to speak of his
points in approved order -- was quietly in the mode;
his features good and regular; his expression that of
a poised and sophisticated man of the world. He in-
formed the clerk that he would remain three or four
days, inquired concerning the sailing of European
steamships, and sank into the blissful inanition of the
nonpareil hotel with the contented air of a traveller in
his favorite inn.
The young man -- not to question the veracity of
the register -- was Harold Farrington. He drifted
into the exclusive and calm current of life in the Lotus
so tactfully and silently that not a ripple alarmed his
fellow-seekers after rest. He ate in the Lotus and
of its patronym, and was lulled into blissful peace
with the other fortunate mariners. In one day he
acquired his table and his waiter and the fear lest the
panting chasers after repose that kept Broadway
warm should pounce upon and destroy this contiguous
but covert haven.
After dinner on the next day after the arrival of
Harold Farrington Madame Beaumont dropped her
handkerchief in passing out. Mr. Farrington recov-
ered and returned it without the effusiveness of a
seeker after acquaintance.
Perhaps there was a mystic freemasonry between
the discriminating guests of the Lotus. Perhaps
they were drawn one to another by the fact of their
common good fortune in discovering the acme of sum-
mer resorts in a Broadway hotel. Words delicate in
courtesy and tentative in departure from formality
passed between the two. And, as if in the expedient
atmosphere of a real summer resort, an acquaintance
grew, flowered and fructified on the spot as does the
mystic plant of the conjuror. For a few moments
they stood on a balcony upon which the corridor
ended, and tossed the feathery ball of conversation.
"One tires of the old resorts," said Madame Beau-
mont, with a faint but sweet smile. "What is the use
to fly to the mountains or the seashore to escape noise
and dust when the very people that make both follow
us there?"
"Even on the ocean," remarked Farrington, sadly,
"the Philistines be upon you. The most exclusive
steamers are getting to be scarcely more than ferry
boats. Heaven help us when the summer resorter dis-
covers that the Lotus is further away from Broadway
than Thousand Islands or Mackinac."
"I hope our secret will be safe for a week, any-
how," said Madame, with a sigh and a smile. "I do
not know where I would go if they should descend
upon the dear Lotus. I know of but one place so de-
lightful in summer, and that is the castle of Count
Polinski, in the Ural Mountains."
"I hear that Baden-Baden and Cannes are almost
deserted this season," said Farrington. "Year by
year the old resorts fall in disrepute. Perhaps many
others, like ourselves, are seeking out the quiet nooks
that are overlooked by the majority."
"I promise myself three days more of this delicious
rest," said Madame Beaumont. "On Monday the
Cedric sails."
Harold Farrington's eyes proclaimed his regret.
"I too must leave on Monday," he said, "but I do
not go abroad."
Madame Beaumont shrugged one round shoulder in
a foreign gesture.
"One cannot bide here forever, charming though it
may be. The chateau has been in preparation for me
longer than a month. Those house parties that one
must give -- what a nuisance! But I shall never for-
get my week in the Hotel Lotus."
"Nor shall I," said Farrington in a low voice,
and I shall never forgive the Cedric."
On Sunday evening, three days afterward, the two
sat at a little table on the same balcony. A discreet
waiter brought ices and small glasses of claret cup.
Madame Beaumont wore the same beautiful even-
ing gown that she had worn each day at dinner. She
seemed thoughtful. Near her hand on the table lay a
small chatelaine purse. After she had eaten her ice
she opened the purse and took out a one-dollar bill.
"Mr. Farrington," she said, with the smile that
had won the Hotel Lotus, "I want to tell you some-
thing. I'm going to leave before breakfast in the
morning, because I've got to go back to my work.
I'm behind the hosiery counter at Casey's Mammoth
Store, and my vacation's up at eight o'clock to-
morrow. That paper-dollar is the last cent I'll see
till I draw my eight dollars salary next Saturday
night. You're a real gentleman, and you've been
good to me, and I wanted to tell you before I went.
I've been saving up out of my wages for a year
just for this vacation. I wanted to spend one week
like a lady if I never do another one. I wanted to
get up when I please instead of having to crawl out
at seven every morning; and I wanted to live on the
best and be waited on and ring bells for things just
like rich folks do. Now I've done it, and I've had the
happiest time I ever expect to have in my life. I'm
going back to my work and my little hall bedroom
satisfied for another year. I wanted to tell you
about it, Mr. Farrington, because I -- I thought you
kind of liked me, and I -- I liked you. But, oh, I
couldn't help deceiving you up till now, for it was all
just like a fairy tale to me. So I talked about Eu-
rope and the things I've read about in other countries,
and made you think I was a great lady.
"This dress I've got on -- it's the only one I have
that's fit to wear -- I bought from O'Dowd & Levin-
sky on the instalment plan."
- dignity [´digniti]
n.尊严，尊贵；高官显贵 (初中英语单词) - twilight [´twailait] n.黎明；黄昏 (初中英语单词)
- silently [´sailəntli] ad.寂静地；沉默地 (初中英语单词)
- delicate [´delikət] a.精美的；微妙的 (初中英语单词)
- imagination [i,mædʒi´neiʃən] n.想象(力) (初中英语单词)
- fearful [´fiəfəl] a.可怕的；担心的 (初中英语单词)
- retreat [ri´tri:t] v.&n.退却；撤退；放弃 (初中英语单词)
- restless [´restləs] a.没有休息的 (初中英语单词)
- contents [´kɔ:ntents] n.容纳物；要旨 (初中英语单词)
- rarely [´reəli] ad.难得；非凡地 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- slender [´slendə] a.细长的；微薄的 (初中英语单词)
- desirable [di´zaiərəbəl] a.向往的；极好的 (初中英语单词)
- register [´redʒistə] n.&v.登记簿 (初中英语单词)
- fortunate [´fɔ:tʃənət] a.幸运的，侥幸的 (初中英语单词)
- arrival [ə´raivəl] n.到达；到达的人(物) (初中英语单词)
- departure [di´pɑ:tʃə] n.离开，出发 (初中英语单词)
- resort [ri´zɔ:t] vi.求助；乞灵；诉诸 (初中英语单词)
- charming [´tʃɑ:miŋ] a.可爱的；极好的 (初中英语单词)
- preparation [,prepə´reiʃən] n.准备；预习(时间) (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- vacation [və´keiʃən, vei´keiʃən] n.假期；休庭期；腾空 (初中英语单词)
- broadway [´brɔ:dwei] n.&a.百老汇大街(的) (高中英语单词)
- serene [si´ri:n] n.&a.清澈的；宁静的 (高中英语单词)
- perpetual [pə´petʃuəl] a.永恒的；终身的 (高中英语单词)
- pleasing [´pli:ziŋ] a.使人愉快的；合意的 (高中英语单词)
- waterfall [´wɔ:təfɔ:l] n.瀑布 (高中英语单词)
- footstep [´futstep] n.足迹，脚步声 (高中英语单词)
- cordial [´kɔ:diəl] a.热忱的；亲切的 (高中英语单词)
- unseen [,ʌn´si:n] a.未看见的 (高中英语单词)
- concerning [kən´sə:niŋ] prep.关于 (高中英语单词)
- contented [kən´tentid] a.满足的；心满意足的 (高中英语单词)
- exclusive [ik´sklu:siv] a.独有的；集中的 (高中英语单词)
- ripple [´ripəl] n.涟漪 v.(使)起涟漪 (高中英语单词)
- repose [ri´pəuz] v.&n.(使)休息；安息 (高中英语单词)
- thoughtful [´θɔ:tfəl] a.深思的；体贴的 (高中英语单词)
- counter [´kauntə] n.计算者；柜台；计算机 (高中英语单词)
- aerial [´eəriəl] a.空中的 n.天线 (英语四级单词)
- alpine [´ælpain] a.高山的 (英语四级单词)
- manhattan [mæn´hætən] n.曼哈顿 (英语四级单词)
- watchful [´wɔtʃfəl] a.注意的；戒备的 (英语四级单词)
- counterfeit [´kauntəfit] a.伪造的 v.&n.伪造 (英语四级单词)
- seashore [´si:ʃɔ:] n.海岸；海滨 (英语四级单词)
- ownership [´əunəʃip] n.所有权；所有制 (英语四级单词)
- leisurely [´leʒəli] a.从容地，慢慢地 (英语四级单词)
- cataract [´kætərækt] n.大瀑布；白内障 (英语四级单词)
- sojourn [´sɔdʒə:n] vi.&n.旅居；逗留 (英语四级单词)
- waiter [´weitə] n.侍者，服务员 (英语四级单词)
- balcony [´bælkəni] n.阳台；(戏院的)楼厅 (英语四级单词)
- chateau [´ʃætəu] n.城堡；公馆，邸宅 (英语四级单词)
- venison [´venisən] n.鹿肉；野味 (英语六级单词)
- uttermost [´ʌtəməust] a.&n.=utmost (英语六级单词)
- consonant [´kɔnsənənt] n.辅音 a.符合的 (英语六级单词)
- versailles [vɛə´sail] n.凡尔赛(宫) (英语六级单词)
- pounce [pauns] n.突然袭击；攻击 (英语六级单词)
- covert [kʌvət] a.隐藏的 n.隐藏处 (英语六级单词)
- mystic [´mistik] a.神秘的；难以理解的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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