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In a German Pension-Part5_Katherine Mansfield(1888-1923)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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in Brighton twenty years ago, and the travelling cape I bought there is not

yet worn out--the one you wrap the hot-water bottle in, Sonia. My lamented



husband, your father, Sonia, knew a great deal about England. But the more

he knew about it the oftener he remarked to me, 'England is merely an



island of beef flesh swimming in a warm gulf sea of gravy.' Such a

brilliant way of putting things. Do you remember, Sonia?"



"I forget nothing, mamma," answered Sonia.

Said the Herr Professor: "That is the proof of your calling, gnadiges



Fraulein. Now I wonder--and this is a very interesting speculation--is

memory a blessing or--excuse the word--a curse?"



Frau Godowska looked into the distance, then the corners of her mouth

dropped and her skin puckered. She began to shed tears.



"Ach Gott! Gracious lady, what have I said?" exclaimed the Herr Professor.

Sonia took her mother's hand. "Do you know," she said, "to-night it is



stewed carrots and nut tart for supper. Suppose we go in and take our

places," her sidelong, tragic stare accusing the Professor and me the



while.

I followed them across the lawn and up the steps. Frau Godowska was



murmuring, "Such a wonderful, beloved man"; with her disengaged hand

Fraulein Sonia was arranging the sweet pea "garniture."



...

"A concert for the benefit of afflicted Catholic infants will take place in



the salon at eight-thirty P.M. Artists: Fraulein Sonia Godowska, from

Vienna; Herr Professor Windberg and his trombone; Frau Oberlehrer Weidel,



and others."

This notice was tied round the neck of the melancholy stag's head in the



dining-room. It graced him like a red and white dinner bib for days before

the event, causing the Herr Professor to bow before it and say "good



appetite" until we sickened of his pleasantry and left the smiling to be

done by the waiter, who was paid to be pleasing to the guests.



On the appointed day the married ladies sailed about the pension dressed

like upholstered chairs, and the unmarried ladies like draped muslin



dressing-table covers. Frau Godowska pinned a rose in the centre of her

reticule; another blossom was tucked in the mazy folds of a white



antimacassar thrown across her breast. The gentlemen wore black coats,

white silk ties and ferny buttonholes tickling the chin.



The floor of the salon was freshly polished, chairs and benches arranged,

and a row of little flags strung across the ceiling--they flew and jigged



in the draught with all the enthusiasm of family washing. It was arranged

that I should sit beside Frau Godowska, and that the Herr Professor and



Sonia should join us when their share of the concert was over.

"That will make you feel quite one of the performers," said the Herr



Professor genially. "It is a great pity that the English nation is so

unmusical. Never mind! To-night you shall hear something--we have



discovered a nest of talent during the rehearsals."

"What do you intend to recite, Fraulein Sonia?"



She shook back her hair. "I never know until the last moment. When I come

on the stage I wait for one moment and then I have the sensation as though



something struck me here,"--she placed her hand upon her collar

brooch--"and...words come!"



"Bend down a moment," whispered her mother. "Sonia, love, your skirt

safety-pin is showing at the back. Shall I come outside and fasten it



properly for you, or will you do it yourself?"

"Oh, mamma, please don't say such things," Sonia flushed and grew very



angry. "You know how sensitive I am to the slightest unsympathetic

impression at a time like this...I would rather my skirt dropped off my



body--"

"Sonia--my heart!"



A bell tinkled.

The waiter came in and opened the piano. In the heated excitement of the



moment he entirely forgot what was fitting, and flicked the keys with the

grimy table napkin he carried over his arm. The Frau Oberlehrer tripped on



the platform followed by a very young gentleman, who blew his nose twice

before he hurled his handkerchief into the bosom of the piano.



"Yes, I know you have no love for me,

And no forget-me-not.



No love, no heart, and no forget-me-not."

sang the Frau Oberlehrer, in a voice that seemed to issue from her



forgotten thimble and have nothing to do with her.

"Ach, how sweet, how delicate," we cried, clapping her soothingly. She



bowed as though to say, "Yes, isn't it?" and retired, the very young

gentleman dodging her train and scowling.



The piano was closed, an arm-chair was placed in the centre of the

platform. Fraulein Sonia drifted towards it. A breathless pause. Then,






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