她的父亲亨格顿先生是世界上最不通人情世故的人，心肠好，但绝对是以愚蠢的白我为中心。我毫不怀疑他心里深信，我每周来三次是因为陪着他是一种快乐。想到将有这样一个岳父真叫人扫兴，但是没有什么东西能使我与格拉迪斯分开。
那天晚上有一个小时或者还多一点，我听着他那单调的谈话。最后他跳了起来，说了些关于我平时不动脑筋的话，就进他的房间换衣服，出席会议去了。
终于我单独和格拉迪斯一起了。她多美啊！我们当时是朋友，十分好的朋友，但只是朋友。而格拉迪斯具备了女性的各种美德。直到现在，我还没有找到通向她心灵的道路。不过，管它结果怎样，今天晚上我得跟她淡了。
我正要打破长时期的沉默，两只要命的黑眼睛望着我。
“我觉得你要向我求婚了，纳德。我真的盼望你不要这样，事情象现在这样要好得多。”
我把椅子挪近了点。
“嗳，你怎么知道我要求婚了？”我奇怪地问。
“女人还有不知道的吗？但是，噢，纳德，我们的友谊一直是那么好，那么愉快，毁了它多可惜呀！一个年轻男人和一个年轻女人能象你和我这样谈话，你不觉得是实在太好了吗？”
“我说不清楚，格拉迪斯。瞧，象我们这样谈，我可以跟——跟火车站站长谈。”这话使得我们两人都笑了。“连一点点让我满意的地方都没有。我希望我的胳臂搂着你，你的头靠着我的胸脯，而且——噢，格拉迪斯，我希望……”
她从椅子上跳了起来，她瞧见了我准备要表示我的某些希望。
“你把什么都搞糟了，纳德，”她说。”这种事没发生以前，事情是这么完美、自然，这真糟糕。”
“这是天性，”我说。“是爱情。”
“好吧，也许假如两人相爱，那会是另外一种情况了。我可从来没有感觉到。”
“但是你必定——你，还有你的美丽。噢，格拉迪斯，你生来是为了爱情，你应该爱！”
“在爱情到来之前，人必须等待。”
“可是你为什么不能爱我，格拉迪斯？是因为我的长相，还是别的？”
她微笑着端详我的脸。
“不，不是那个，”她最后说。”还要深一些。”
“我的性格？”
她严肃地点点头。
“我怎么能够补救？坐下，告诉我。”
她坐下了。
“我在爱着别人，”她说。
这回轮到我从椅子上跳起来了。
“这只是个想象，”她解释道，望着我脸上的表情笑了“我还没遇到过那样的男人。”
“给我讲讲他吧！他是什么长相？”
“噢，他可能非常象你。”
“你的话真叫人觉得亲密。好吧，他做了什么我没做的事？格拉迪斯，如果你告诉我什么事会使你喜欢，我会努力去做。”
她笑了。
“好，首先，我理想的情人不会那样说话，”她说。“他会是一个比较坚强、比较严肃的人，不会准备使他自己屈从一个蠢姑娘的幻想。但是更为重要的是，他必须是一个能够有所作为、面对死亡而毫无惧色的人，一个从事伟大事业的人。我应当爱的不是这个人，而是他的事业，这些事业会在我的身上反映出光辉。”
“我们遇不到这种机会了，”我说。”至少，我从来没有这种机会。”
“但是机会就在你的周围。真正的人创造他自己的机会，你挡都挡不住他。我还没有遇到他，然而好象是那样了解他。英雄事业就在我们周围，等待人去完成。男人完成这些事业，女人爱这样的男人。我愿意因为我的情人而被人嫉妒。”
“我会干这种事业让你喜欢。”
“你不应该干这种事业只是为了让我喜欢。你应该做是因为你不能不做，对你来说，这是自然而然的。上个月你报道了威根煤矿爆炸，为什么不能下去帮助那些人呢？”
“我去帮助了。”
“你从来没说过。”
“没什么可说的。”
“我可不知道。”她很感兴趣地望着我说：“你很勇敢。”
“我必须那样。要是你想写好稿子，一定得到事情发生的现场。”
“多么平凡的动机。不过，我仍然高兴你下了那个矿。”她把手伸给我，那样神圣、端庄，我只能躬去吻吻它。“我只是一个充满年轻姑娘幻想的傻女人。我真是那样，如果我嫁人，我希望嫁一个有名望的人。”
“为什么不该那样呢？”我叫嚷着。“象你这样的女人才使男人有所作为。男人，就象你所说，应该创造自己的机会，而不是等待机会。我发誓，我要为这个世界干点什么。”
她又朝我笑了。
“为什么不？”她说。“你有一个男人能有的一切——年轻，健廉，有力量，受过教育，有活力。我为你过去的讲话难受过。我高兴——真高兴——假如你身上的这些思想被唤醒的活！”
“如果我做了……”
她把她那招人爱的手放在我的唇上。“再别说别的了，先生。也许有这么一天，你在世界上已经赢得了你的地位，那时候我们再来谈它吧！”
就这样在那个十一月的雾夜里，带着想发现某种配得上格拉迪斯事业的急切心情，我到了《每日新闻报》的办公室，在那个办公室的职员中，我是一个最微不足道的人。
这一章对读者来说象是和我记叙的故事无关，然而没有这一章，也就不会有这个故事了。
I have wrought my simple plan
If I give one hour of joy
To the boy who's half a man,
Or the man who's half a boy.
Mr. E. D. Malone desires to state that both the injunction for restraint and the libel action have been withdrawn unreservedly by Professor G. E. Challenger, who, being satisfied that no criticism or comment in this book is meant in an offensive spirit, has guaranteed that he will place no impediment to its publication and circulation.
那天晚上有一个小时或者还多一点，我听着他那单调的谈话。最后他跳了起来，说了些关于我平时不动脑筋的话，就进他的房间换衣服，出席会议去了。
终于我单独和格拉迪斯一起了。她多美啊！我们当时是朋友，十分好的朋友，但只是朋友。而格拉迪斯具备了女性的各种美德。直到现在，我还没有找到通向她心灵的道路。不过，管它结果怎样，今天晚上我得跟她淡了。
我正要打破长时期的沉默，两只要命的黑眼睛望着我。
“我觉得你要向我求婚了，纳德。我真的盼望你不要这样，事情象现在这样要好得多。”
我把椅子挪近了点。
“嗳，你怎么知道我要求婚了？”我奇怪地问。
“女人还有不知道的吗？但是，噢，纳德，我们的友谊一直是那么好，那么愉快，毁了它多可惜呀！一个年轻男人和一个年轻女人能象你和我这样谈话，你不觉得是实在太好了吗？”
“我说不清楚，格拉迪斯。瞧，象我们这样谈，我可以跟——跟火车站站长谈。”这话使得我们两人都笑了。“连一点点让我满意的地方都没有。我希望我的胳臂搂着你，你的头靠着我的胸脯，而且——噢，格拉迪斯，我希望……”
她从椅子上跳了起来，她瞧见了我准备要表示我的某些希望。
“你把什么都搞糟了，纳德，”她说。”这种事没发生以前，事情是这么完美、自然，这真糟糕。”
“这是天性，”我说。“是爱情。”
“好吧，也许假如两人相爱，那会是另外一种情况了。我可从来没有感觉到。”
“但是你必定——你，还有你的美丽。噢，格拉迪斯，你生来是为了爱情，你应该爱！”
“在爱情到来之前，人必须等待。”
“可是你为什么不能爱我，格拉迪斯？是因为我的长相，还是别的？”
她微笑着端详我的脸。
“不，不是那个，”她最后说。”还要深一些。”
“我的性格？”
她严肃地点点头。
“我怎么能够补救？坐下，告诉我。”
她坐下了。
“我在爱着别人，”她说。
这回轮到我从椅子上跳起来了。
“这只是个想象，”她解释道，望着我脸上的表情笑了“我还没遇到过那样的男人。”
“给我讲讲他吧！他是什么长相？”
“噢，他可能非常象你。”
“你的话真叫人觉得亲密。好吧，他做了什么我没做的事？格拉迪斯，如果你告诉我什么事会使你喜欢，我会努力去做。”
她笑了。
“好，首先，我理想的情人不会那样说话，”她说。“他会是一个比较坚强、比较严肃的人，不会准备使他自己屈从一个蠢姑娘的幻想。但是更为重要的是，他必须是一个能够有所作为、面对死亡而毫无惧色的人，一个从事伟大事业的人。我应当爱的不是这个人，而是他的事业，这些事业会在我的身上反映出光辉。”
“我们遇不到这种机会了，”我说。”至少，我从来没有这种机会。”
“但是机会就在你的周围。真正的人创造他自己的机会，你挡都挡不住他。我还没有遇到他，然而好象是那样了解他。英雄事业就在我们周围，等待人去完成。男人完成这些事业，女人爱这样的男人。我愿意因为我的情人而被人嫉妒。”
“我会干这种事业让你喜欢。”
“你不应该干这种事业只是为了让我喜欢。你应该做是因为你不能不做，对你来说，这是自然而然的。上个月你报道了威根煤矿爆炸，为什么不能下去帮助那些人呢？”
“我去帮助了。”
“你从来没说过。”
“没什么可说的。”
“我可不知道。”她很感兴趣地望着我说：“你很勇敢。”
“我必须那样。要是你想写好稿子，一定得到事情发生的现场。”
“多么平凡的动机。不过，我仍然高兴你下了那个矿。”她把手伸给我，那样神圣、端庄，我只能躬去吻吻它。“我只是一个充满年轻姑娘幻想的傻女人。我真是那样，如果我嫁人，我希望嫁一个有名望的人。”
“为什么不该那样呢？”我叫嚷着。“象你这样的女人才使男人有所作为。男人，就象你所说，应该创造自己的机会，而不是等待机会。我发誓，我要为这个世界干点什么。”
她又朝我笑了。
“为什么不？”她说。“你有一个男人能有的一切——年轻，健廉，有力量，受过教育，有活力。我为你过去的讲话难受过。我高兴——真高兴——假如你身上的这些思想被唤醒的活！”
“如果我做了……”
她把她那招人爱的手放在我的唇上。“再别说别的了，先生。也许有这么一天，你在世界上已经赢得了你的地位，那时候我们再来谈它吧！”
就这样在那个十一月的雾夜里，带着想发现某种配得上格拉迪斯事业的急切心情，我到了《每日新闻报》的办公室，在那个办公室的职员中，我是一个最微不足道的人。
这一章对读者来说象是和我记叙的故事无关，然而没有这一章，也就不会有这个故事了。
I have wrought my simple plan
If I give one hour of joy
To the boy who's half a man,
Or the man who's half a boy.
Mr. E. D. Malone desires to state that both the injunction for restraint and the libel action have been withdrawn unreservedly by Professor G. E. Challenger, who, being satisfied that no criticism or comment in this book is meant in an offensive spirit, has guaranteed that he will place no impediment to its publication and circulation.
我一直喜欢麦卡德尔，这个上了年纪的、红头发的新闻编辑，我也希望他喜欢我。当然博蒙特才是真正的老板，但是他生活在奥林匹亚顶峰稀薄的气层里，从那里他是看不见比国际危机或者内阁意见分歧更小一点的事情。他高高在上，超越我们。但是他有代理人，麦卡德尔就是第一代理人。我进屋子的时候，老头向我点点头，把眼镜向上推得老高，一直推到光秃的脑门上。
“嗳，马隆先生，我从各方面听说，你象是干得很好，”他用苏格兰口音和善地对我说。
我谢了谢他。
“威根煤矿爆炸的报道好极了。火灾的报道也好极了。你来见我有什么事吗？”
“请求你照顾一下。”
他看样子吃了一惊。“啧，啧！什么事啊？”
“先生，你想没想到可以让我为报纸出趟差？我会尽我的力量给你搞些好的稿子来。”
“你想的是种什么样的差事呢，马隆先生？”
“嗯，先生，任何有危险、要冒险的事情。我确实会尽我最大的力量来完成。事情越困难，对我越合适。”
“你象是急着要送掉你的命。”
“要评价我的生命，先生。”
“恐怕有这类事情的日子已经过去了。地图上巨大的空白区正在被填满，不论哪里都没有给传奇冒险留下地盘，不过，等一下！”他加了一句，脸上突然出现了微笑，”说起地图上的空白区使我想起来了。有个——一个近代的牛皮大戏。拿他写篇文章倒不坏。嗯？你觉得怎么样？”
“什么事情，什么地方都行。”
麦卡德尔想了一会。
“我不知道你能不能跟那个家伙相处，友好地——或者谈话的措词最低限度是友好的，”最后他说。“你象是有那种能和别人建立联系的天才。”
“谢谢你，先生。”
“那么你为什么不上查伦杰教授那里碰碰你的运气呢？”
我想我露出来了吃惊的样子。
“查伦杰？”我叫了起来。“查伦杰教授，有名的动物学家。他不就是把《电讯报》布伦德尔的脑袋打破了的那个人吗？”
新闻编辑笑了。
“你害怕吗？你不是说你要去冒险吗？”
“当然去冒险。我不怕，先生，”我回答。
“我不认为他总是那样坏。很可能布伦德尔上他那去的不是时候，或者是用了一种不合时宜的方式。跟他说话要策略些，你的运气会好的。我相信，这件事正是你所需要的。”
“我对他还真的一无所知，”我说。“是因为布伦德尔那件事，我才记得他的名字。”
“我这里有点笔记，马隆先生。有这么一段时间，我挺注意他。”他从抽屉里拿出一张纸来。“把这个拿去吧！今晚上我再没有什么要跟你说的了。”
我把纸放到口袋里。
“等一下，先生，”我说。“我还不很清楚，我访问这位先生是为了什么。他做过什么事吗？”
“两年前他一个人到南美做了一趟探险，去年回来了。毫无疑问他是到过南美，但就是不说到底到了哪儿。他在讲那次冒险时含含糊糊的，有人提出质疑，他就紧闭上嘴。或者是某些奇迹一样的事发生过——或者这个人撒谎，而这个假设是更可能的！他有几张保护得不好的照片。有人说这些照片是假的。他不回答任何问题，把记者踢出门去。我的意见是，他不过是个对科学有兴趣的夸大妄想症的病患者。马隆先生，这就是你的采访对象。现在，大步走吧，瞧瞧你将会做点什么。你年龄够大了，能照顾你自己了。”
会见结束了。
我上俱乐部去，路上我停了下来，望着黑暗的泰晤士河，在露大地里我总是思考得更加清楚。我拿出麦卡德尔给我的那张纸片，在电灯下读了起来。我当时产生了一个灵感。根据别人给我介绍的情况，我担保作为记者我永远不会有希望和这位教授接触。而他的传记表明，他在科学上是个狂热的人，那么我得找出一个立足点，靠这个立足点他也许接见我。
我进了俱乐部。时间刚刚过了十一点，大屋子到处都是人。我看到一个高高的、瘦瘦的男人，靠着火坐在一张扶手椅上。当我把椅子挪近他的的时候，他转过脸来。是塔尔甫·亨利，《自然》杂志的工作人员。
“你知道点查伦杰教授的情况吗？”我问。
“查伦杰？”
我点点头。
“查伦杰是个从南美带回来些稀奇故事的人。”
“什么故事？”
“啊，瞎扯淡，说他发现了些古怪动物。我相信他现在已经不谈了。他跟大家会见了一次，会上那个笑啊，连他也看出来他的故事不行了。有一两个人原来准备把他当回事的，但很快对他就没有兴趣了。”
“为什么？”
“嗯，由于他的行为让人不能忍受。动物学会有个可怜的老瓦德雷。瓦德雷曾写了封信：‘动物学会会长向查伦杰教授致敬，下次会议如蒙光临，本人将不胜感激。’他的答复要印出来，简直有伤大雅。”
“你说说吧！”
“好吧：信的一开始是：‘查伦杰教授向动物学会会长致敬，如蒙滚蛋，本人将不胜感激。’”
“老天爷啊！”
“是啊，我想老瓦德雷也这么说吧。”
“查伦杰还有什么事吗？”
“嗯，你知道，我是一个细菌学家，不过我还听说过查伦杰的一些事。他人聪明，富有活力，但是个赶时髦的人，而且粗鲁得令人不能忍受。他甚至为他在南美从事的工作造了一些假照片。”
“你说他是个赶时髦的人。他在什么地方特别赶时髦了？”
“有的是，但是新近的是魏司曼和进化论。我相信他在维也纳和人狠狠地吵了一场。”
“不能告诉我争论的要点吗？”
“现在不行，不过有记录汇编的译本。我们办公室里有。你愿意来一趟吗？”
“我正要那个。我必须去访问这个家伙，需要些材料。我一定得知道跟他谈什么。你对我真是太帮忙了，我现在就跟你去，不太晚吗？”
半小时后我坐在杂志社的办公室里，眼前是一本记录汇编。我不懂辩论的全部，但明显的是这位英国教授非常盛气凌人，把大陆上的同行都惹火了。汇编上我看到一处又一处用括号括起来的“”、“吵闹声”等字眼儿。
“我理不出个头绪来，”我惊叫着。
“如果你不是个专家，当然那是有点难懂的，”塔尔甫·亨利回答我。
“哪怕能够找到一句有用的话，”我说。“啊，有了，这句行。这句我象差不多懂得。我把它抄下来，这将会使我和那位可怕的教授搭上关系。”
“再没有别的事要我做的了？”
“嗯，还有。我想写封信给他。假如我能在这儿写并且使用你的地址，那就太好了。你可以看这封信，我担保没有惹他生气的地方。”
“好吧！那是我的桌子和椅子。纸在那儿。不过你发信前给我看看。”
写信花了点时间，不过当信写完了的时候，我认为这事干得并不那么坏。我有些骄傲地向挑剔的细菌学家朗读着。
“‘亲爱的查伦杰教授，’”信写道，“‘作为一个大自然的研究者，我总是对你关于达尔文与魏司曼之间相异之处的考虑深感兴趣。我最近有机会重读——”
“你这个坏透了的骗子！”塔尔甫·亨利惊叫着。
“‘重读了你在维也纳出色的讲演。不过内中有句活，好象我不理解。如蒙允许，请赐一见，因为我有些建议，而这些建议只能在个别谈话中说明。如蒙同意，我定于后日（星期三）上午十一时前来叨光。
‘谨向先生致以真诚深切的敬意。爱德华·顿·马隆敬启’”
“怎么样？”我得意洋洋地问。
“嗯，假如你能昧着良心——。不过你这是要干什么？”
“到他那儿，只要我到了他的屋里，我也许会知道怎么做。我甚至可以坦白认罪。假如他有运动家的风度，他会理解的。”
“好吧，再见。星期三上午在这里我会接到给你的答复——如果他真答复的话。他是一个危险的人物，谁都恨他。”
For an hour or more that evening I listened to his monotonous chirrup about bad money driving out good, the token value of silver, the depreciation of the rupee, and the true standards of exchange.
"Suppose," he cried with feeble violence, "that all the debts in the world were called up simultaneously, and immediate payment insisted upon,--what under our present conditions would happen then?"
I gave the self-evident answer that I should be a ruined man, upon which he jumped from his chair, reproved me for my habitual levity, which made it impossible for him to discuss any reasonable subject in my presence, and bounced off out of the room to dress for a Masonic meeting.
At last I was alone with Gladys, and the moment of Fate had come! All that evening I had felt like the soldier who awaits the signal which will send him on a forlorn hope; hope of victory and fear of repulse alternating in his mind.
She sat with that proud, delicate profile of hers outlined against the red curtain. How beautiful she was! And yet how aloof! We had been friends, quite good friends; but never could I get beyond the same comradeship which I might have established with one of my fellow-reporters upon the Gazette,--perfectly frank, perfectly kindly, and perfectly unsexual. My instincts are all against a woman being too frank and at her ease with me. It is no compliment to a man. Where the real sex feeling begins, timidity and distrust are its companions, heritage from old wicked days when love and violence went often hand in hand. The bent head, the averted eye, the faltering voice, the wincing figure-- these, and not the unshrinking gaze and frank reply, are the true signals of passion. Even in my short life I had learned as much as that--or had inherited it in that race memory which we call instinct.
Gladys was full of every womanly quality. Some judged her to be cold and hard; but such a thought was treason. That delicately bronzed skin, almost oriental in its coloring, that raven hair, the large liquid eyes, the full but exquisite lips,--all the stigmata of passion were there. But I was sadly conscious that up to now I had never found the secret of drawing it forth. However, come what might, I should have done with suspense and bring matters to a head to-night. She could but refuse me, and better be a repulsed lover than an accepted brother.
So far my thoughts had carried me, and I was about to break the long and uneasy silence, when two critical, dark eyes looked round at me, and the proud head was shaken in smiling reproof. "I have a presentiment that you are going to propose, Ned. I do wish you wouldn't; for things are so much nicer as they are."
I drew my chair a little nearer. "Now, how did you know that I was going to propose?" I asked in genuine wonder.
"Don't women always know? Do you suppose any woman in the world was ever taken unawares? But--oh, Ned, our friendship has been so good and so pleasant! What a pity to spoil it! Don't you feel how splendid it is that a young man and a young woman should be able to talk face to face as we have talked?"
"I don't know, Gladys. You see, I can talk face to face with-- with the station-master." I can't imagine how that official came into the matter; but in he trotted, and set us both laughing. "That does not satisfy me in the least. I want my arms round you, and your head on my breast, and--oh, Gladys, I want----"
She had sprung from her chair, as she saw signs that I proposed to demonstrate some of my wants. "You've spoiled everything, Ned," she said. "It's all so beautiful and natural until this kind of thing comes in! It is such a pity! Why can't you control yourself?"
"I didn't invent it," I pleaded. "It's nature. It's love."
"Well, perhaps if both love, it may be different. I have never felt it."
"But you must--you, with your beauty, with your soul! Oh, Gladys, you were made for love! You must love!"
"One must wait till it comes."
"But why can't you love me, Gladys? Is it my appearance, or what?"
She did unbend a little. She put forward a hand--such a gracious, stooping attitude it was--and she pressed back my head. Then she looked into my upturned face with a very wistful smile.
"No it isn't that," she said at last. "You're not a conceited boy by nature, and so I can safely tell you it is not that. It's deeper."
"My character?"
She nodded severely.
"What can I do to mend it? Do sit down and talk it over. No, really, I won't if you'll only sit down!"
She looked at me with a wondering distrust which was much more to my mind than her whole-hearted confidence. How primitive and bestial it looks when you put it down in black and white!--and perhaps after all it is only a feeling peculiar to myself. Anyhow, she sat down.
"Now tell me what's amiss with me?"
"I'm in love with somebody else," said she.
It was my turn to jump out of my chair.
"It's nobody in particular," she explained, laughing at the expression of my face: "only an ideal. I've never met the kind of man I mean."
"Tell me about him. What does he look like?"
"Oh, he might look very much like you."
"How dear of you to say that! Well, what is it that he does that I don't do? Just say the word,--teetotal, vegetarian, aeronaut, theosophist, superman. I'll have a try at it, Gladys, if you will only give me an idea what would please you."
She laughed at the elasticity of my character. "Well, in the first place, I don't think my ideal would speak like that," said she. "He would be a harder, sterner man, not so ready to adapt himself to a silly girl's whim. But, above all, he must be a man who could do, who could act, who could look Death in the face and have no fear of him, a man of great deeds and strange experiences. It is never a man that I should love, but always the glories he had won; for they would be reflected upon me. Think of Richard Burton! When I read his wife's life of him I could so understand her love! And Lady Stanley! Did you ever read the wonderful last chapter of that book about her husband? These are the sort of men that a woman could worship with all her soul, and yet be the greater, not the less, on account of her love, honored by all the world as the inspirer of noble deeds."
She looked so beautiful in her enthusiasm that I nearly brought down the whole level of the interview. I gripped myself hard, and went on with the argument.
"We can't all be Stanleys and Burtons," said I; "besides, we don't get the chance,--at least, I never had the chance. If I did, I should try to take it."
"But chances are all around you. It is the mark of the kind of man I mean that he makes his own chances. You can't hold him back. I've never met him, and yet I seem to know him so well. There are heroisms all round us waiting to be done. It's for men to do them, and for women to reserve their love as a reward for such men. Look at that young Frenchman who went up last week in a balloon. It was blowing a gale of wind; but because he was announced to go he insisted on starting. The wind blew him fifteen hundred miles in twenty-four hours, and he fell in the middle of Russia. That was the kind of man I mean. Think of the woman he loved, and how other women must have envied her! That's what I should like to be,--envied for my man."
"I'd have done it to please you."
"But you shouldn't do it merely to please me. You should do it because you can't help yourself, because it's natural to you, because the man in you is crying out for heroic expression. Now, when you described the Wigan coal explosion last month, could you not have gone down and helped those people, in spite of the choke-damp?"
"I did."
"You never said so."
"There was nothing worth bucking about."
"I didn't know." She looked at me with rather more interest. "That was brave of you."
"I had to. If you want to write good copy, you must be where the things are."
"What a prosaic motive! It seems to take all the romance out of it. But, still, whatever your motive, I am glad that you went down that mine." She gave me her hand; but with such sweetness and dignity that I could only stoop and kiss it. "I dare say I am merely a foolish woman with a young girl's fancies. And yet it is so real with me, so entirely part of my very self, that I cannot help acting upon it. If I marry, I do want to marry a famous man!"
"Why should you not?" I cried. "It is women like you who brace men up. Give me a chance, and see if I will take it! Besides, as you say, men ought to MAKE their own chances, and not wait until they are given. Look at Clive--just a clerk, and he conquered India! By George! I'll do something in the world yet!"
She laughed at my sudden Irish effervescence. "Why not?" she said. "You have everything a man could have,--youth, health, strength, education, energy. I was sorry you spoke. And now I am glad--so glad--if it wakens these thoughts in you!"
"And if I do----"
Her dear hand rested like warm velvet upon my lips. "Not another word, Sir! You should have been at the office for evening duty half an hour ago; only I hadn't the heart to remind you. Some day, perhaps, when you have won your place in the world, we shall talk it over again."
And so it was that I found myself that foggy November evening pursuing the Camberwell tram with my heart glowing within me, and with the eager determination that not another day should elapse before I should find some deed which was worthy of my lady. But who--who in all this wide world could ever have imagined the incredible shape which that deed was to take, or the strange steps by which I was led to the doing of it?
And, after all, this opening chapter will seem to the reader to have nothing to do with my narrative; and yet there would have been no narrative without it, for it is only when a man goes out into the world with the thought that there are heroisms all round him, and with the desire all alive in his heart to follow any which may come within sight of him, that he breaks away as I did from the life he knows, and ventures forth into the wonderful mystic twilight land where lie the great adventures and the great rewards. Behold me, then, at the office of the Daily Gazette, on the staff of which I was a most insignificant unit, with the settled determination that very night, if possible, to find the quest which should be worthy of my Gladys! Was it hardness, was it selfishness, that she should ask me to risk my life for her own glorification? Such thoughts may come to middle age; but never to ardent three-and-twenty in the fever of his first love.
“嗳，马隆先生，我从各方面听说，你象是干得很好，”他用苏格兰口音和善地对我说。
我谢了谢他。
“威根煤矿爆炸的报道好极了。火灾的报道也好极了。你来见我有什么事吗？”
“请求你照顾一下。”
他看样子吃了一惊。“啧，啧！什么事啊？”
“先生，你想没想到可以让我为报纸出趟差？我会尽我的力量给你搞些好的稿子来。”
“你想的是种什么样的差事呢，马隆先生？”
“嗯，先生，任何有危险、要冒险的事情。我确实会尽我最大的力量来完成。事情越困难，对我越合适。”
“你象是急着要送掉你的命。”
“要评价我的生命，先生。”
“恐怕有这类事情的日子已经过去了。地图上巨大的空白区正在被填满，不论哪里都没有给传奇冒险留下地盘，不过，等一下！”他加了一句，脸上突然出现了微笑，”说起地图上的空白区使我想起来了。有个——一个近代的牛皮大戏。拿他写篇文章倒不坏。嗯？你觉得怎么样？”
“什么事情，什么地方都行。”
麦卡德尔想了一会。
“我不知道你能不能跟那个家伙相处，友好地——或者谈话的措词最低限度是友好的，”最后他说。“你象是有那种能和别人建立联系的天才。”
“谢谢你，先生。”
“那么你为什么不上查伦杰教授那里碰碰你的运气呢？”
我想我露出来了吃惊的样子。
“查伦杰？”我叫了起来。“查伦杰教授，有名的动物学家。他不就是把《电讯报》布伦德尔的脑袋打破了的那个人吗？”
新闻编辑笑了。
“你害怕吗？你不是说你要去冒险吗？”
“当然去冒险。我不怕，先生，”我回答。
“我不认为他总是那样坏。很可能布伦德尔上他那去的不是时候，或者是用了一种不合时宜的方式。跟他说话要策略些，你的运气会好的。我相信，这件事正是你所需要的。”
“我对他还真的一无所知，”我说。“是因为布伦德尔那件事，我才记得他的名字。”
“我这里有点笔记，马隆先生。有这么一段时间，我挺注意他。”他从抽屉里拿出一张纸来。“把这个拿去吧！今晚上我再没有什么要跟你说的了。”
我把纸放到口袋里。
“等一下，先生，”我说。“我还不很清楚，我访问这位先生是为了什么。他做过什么事吗？”
“两年前他一个人到南美做了一趟探险，去年回来了。毫无疑问他是到过南美，但就是不说到底到了哪儿。他在讲那次冒险时含含糊糊的，有人提出质疑，他就紧闭上嘴。或者是某些奇迹一样的事发生过——或者这个人撒谎，而这个假设是更可能的！他有几张保护得不好的照片。有人说这些照片是假的。他不回答任何问题，把记者踢出门去。我的意见是，他不过是个对科学有兴趣的夸大妄想症的病患者。马隆先生，这就是你的采访对象。现在，大步走吧，瞧瞧你将会做点什么。你年龄够大了，能照顾你自己了。”
会见结束了。
我上俱乐部去，路上我停了下来，望着黑暗的泰晤士河，在露大地里我总是思考得更加清楚。我拿出麦卡德尔给我的那张纸片，在电灯下读了起来。我当时产生了一个灵感。根据别人给我介绍的情况，我担保作为记者我永远不会有希望和这位教授接触。而他的传记表明，他在科学上是个狂热的人，那么我得找出一个立足点，靠这个立足点他也许接见我。
我进了俱乐部。时间刚刚过了十一点，大屋子到处都是人。我看到一个高高的、瘦瘦的男人，靠着火坐在一张扶手椅上。当我把椅子挪近他的的时候，他转过脸来。是塔尔甫·亨利，《自然》杂志的工作人员。
“你知道点查伦杰教授的情况吗？”我问。
“查伦杰？”
我点点头。
“查伦杰是个从南美带回来些稀奇故事的人。”
“什么故事？”
“啊，瞎扯淡，说他发现了些古怪动物。我相信他现在已经不谈了。他跟大家会见了一次，会上那个笑啊，连他也看出来他的故事不行了。有一两个人原来准备把他当回事的，但很快对他就没有兴趣了。”
“为什么？”
“嗯，由于他的行为让人不能忍受。动物学会有个可怜的老瓦德雷。瓦德雷曾写了封信：‘动物学会会长向查伦杰教授致敬，下次会议如蒙光临，本人将不胜感激。’他的答复要印出来，简直有伤大雅。”
“你说说吧！”
“好吧：信的一开始是：‘查伦杰教授向动物学会会长致敬，如蒙滚蛋，本人将不胜感激。’”
“老天爷啊！”
“是啊，我想老瓦德雷也这么说吧。”
“查伦杰还有什么事吗？”
“嗯，你知道，我是一个细菌学家，不过我还听说过查伦杰的一些事。他人聪明，富有活力，但是个赶时髦的人，而且粗鲁得令人不能忍受。他甚至为他在南美从事的工作造了一些假照片。”
“你说他是个赶时髦的人。他在什么地方特别赶时髦了？”
“有的是，但是新近的是魏司曼和进化论。我相信他在维也纳和人狠狠地吵了一场。”
“不能告诉我争论的要点吗？”
“现在不行，不过有记录汇编的译本。我们办公室里有。你愿意来一趟吗？”
“我正要那个。我必须去访问这个家伙，需要些材料。我一定得知道跟他谈什么。你对我真是太帮忙了，我现在就跟你去，不太晚吗？”
半小时后我坐在杂志社的办公室里，眼前是一本记录汇编。我不懂辩论的全部，但明显的是这位英国教授非常盛气凌人，把大陆上的同行都惹火了。汇编上我看到一处又一处用括号括起来的“”、“吵闹声”等字眼儿。
“我理不出个头绪来，”我惊叫着。
“如果你不是个专家，当然那是有点难懂的，”塔尔甫·亨利回答我。
“哪怕能够找到一句有用的话，”我说。“啊，有了，这句行。这句我象差不多懂得。我把它抄下来，这将会使我和那位可怕的教授搭上关系。”
“再没有别的事要我做的了？”
“嗯，还有。我想写封信给他。假如我能在这儿写并且使用你的地址，那就太好了。你可以看这封信，我担保没有惹他生气的地方。”
“好吧！那是我的桌子和椅子。纸在那儿。不过你发信前给我看看。”
写信花了点时间，不过当信写完了的时候，我认为这事干得并不那么坏。我有些骄傲地向挑剔的细菌学家朗读着。
“‘亲爱的查伦杰教授，’”信写道，“‘作为一个大自然的研究者，我总是对你关于达尔文与魏司曼之间相异之处的考虑深感兴趣。我最近有机会重读——”
“你这个坏透了的骗子！”塔尔甫·亨利惊叫着。
“‘重读了你在维也纳出色的讲演。不过内中有句活，好象我不理解。如蒙允许，请赐一见，因为我有些建议，而这些建议只能在个别谈话中说明。如蒙同意，我定于后日（星期三）上午十一时前来叨光。
‘谨向先生致以真诚深切的敬意。爱德华·顿·马隆敬启’”
“怎么样？”我得意洋洋地问。
“嗯，假如你能昧着良心——。不过你这是要干什么？”
“到他那儿，只要我到了他的屋里，我也许会知道怎么做。我甚至可以坦白认罪。假如他有运动家的风度，他会理解的。”
“好吧，再见。星期三上午在这里我会接到给你的答复——如果他真答复的话。他是一个危险的人物，谁都恨他。”
For an hour or more that evening I listened to his monotonous chirrup about bad money driving out good, the token value of silver, the depreciation of the rupee, and the true standards of exchange.
"Suppose," he cried with feeble violence, "that all the debts in the world were called up simultaneously, and immediate payment insisted upon,--what under our present conditions would happen then?"
I gave the self-evident answer that I should be a ruined man, upon which he jumped from his chair, reproved me for my habitual levity, which made it impossible for him to discuss any reasonable subject in my presence, and bounced off out of the room to dress for a Masonic meeting.
At last I was alone with Gladys, and the moment of Fate had come! All that evening I had felt like the soldier who awaits the signal which will send him on a forlorn hope; hope of victory and fear of repulse alternating in his mind.
She sat with that proud, delicate profile of hers outlined against the red curtain. How beautiful she was! And yet how aloof! We had been friends, quite good friends; but never could I get beyond the same comradeship which I might have established with one of my fellow-reporters upon the Gazette,--perfectly frank, perfectly kindly, and perfectly unsexual. My instincts are all against a woman being too frank and at her ease with me. It is no compliment to a man. Where the real sex feeling begins, timidity and distrust are its companions, heritage from old wicked days when love and violence went often hand in hand. The bent head, the averted eye, the faltering voice, the wincing figure-- these, and not the unshrinking gaze and frank reply, are the true signals of passion. Even in my short life I had learned as much as that--or had inherited it in that race memory which we call instinct.
Gladys was full of every womanly quality. Some judged her to be cold and hard; but such a thought was treason. That delicately bronzed skin, almost oriental in its coloring, that raven hair, the large liquid eyes, the full but exquisite lips,--all the stigmata of passion were there. But I was sadly conscious that up to now I had never found the secret of drawing it forth. However, come what might, I should have done with suspense and bring matters to a head to-night. She could but refuse me, and better be a repulsed lover than an accepted brother.
So far my thoughts had carried me, and I was about to break the long and uneasy silence, when two critical, dark eyes looked round at me, and the proud head was shaken in smiling reproof. "I have a presentiment that you are going to propose, Ned. I do wish you wouldn't; for things are so much nicer as they are."
I drew my chair a little nearer. "Now, how did you know that I was going to propose?" I asked in genuine wonder.
"Don't women always know? Do you suppose any woman in the world was ever taken unawares? But--oh, Ned, our friendship has been so good and so pleasant! What a pity to spoil it! Don't you feel how splendid it is that a young man and a young woman should be able to talk face to face as we have talked?"
"I don't know, Gladys. You see, I can talk face to face with-- with the station-master." I can't imagine how that official came into the matter; but in he trotted, and set us both laughing. "That does not satisfy me in the least. I want my arms round you, and your head on my breast, and--oh, Gladys, I want----"
She had sprung from her chair, as she saw signs that I proposed to demonstrate some of my wants. "You've spoiled everything, Ned," she said. "It's all so beautiful and natural until this kind of thing comes in! It is such a pity! Why can't you control yourself?"
"I didn't invent it," I pleaded. "It's nature. It's love."
"Well, perhaps if both love, it may be different. I have never felt it."
"But you must--you, with your beauty, with your soul! Oh, Gladys, you were made for love! You must love!"
"One must wait till it comes."
"But why can't you love me, Gladys? Is it my appearance, or what?"
She did unbend a little. She put forward a hand--such a gracious, stooping attitude it was--and she pressed back my head. Then she looked into my upturned face with a very wistful smile.
"No it isn't that," she said at last. "You're not a conceited boy by nature, and so I can safely tell you it is not that. It's deeper."
"My character?"
She nodded severely.
"What can I do to mend it? Do sit down and talk it over. No, really, I won't if you'll only sit down!"
She looked at me with a wondering distrust which was much more to my mind than her whole-hearted confidence. How primitive and bestial it looks when you put it down in black and white!--and perhaps after all it is only a feeling peculiar to myself. Anyhow, she sat down.
"Now tell me what's amiss with me?"
"I'm in love with somebody else," said she.
It was my turn to jump out of my chair.
"It's nobody in particular," she explained, laughing at the expression of my face: "only an ideal. I've never met the kind of man I mean."
"Tell me about him. What does he look like?"
"Oh, he might look very much like you."
"How dear of you to say that! Well, what is it that he does that I don't do? Just say the word,--teetotal, vegetarian, aeronaut, theosophist, superman. I'll have a try at it, Gladys, if you will only give me an idea what would please you."
She laughed at the elasticity of my character. "Well, in the first place, I don't think my ideal would speak like that," said she. "He would be a harder, sterner man, not so ready to adapt himself to a silly girl's whim. But, above all, he must be a man who could do, who could act, who could look Death in the face and have no fear of him, a man of great deeds and strange experiences. It is never a man that I should love, but always the glories he had won; for they would be reflected upon me. Think of Richard Burton! When I read his wife's life of him I could so understand her love! And Lady Stanley! Did you ever read the wonderful last chapter of that book about her husband? These are the sort of men that a woman could worship with all her soul, and yet be the greater, not the less, on account of her love, honored by all the world as the inspirer of noble deeds."
She looked so beautiful in her enthusiasm that I nearly brought down the whole level of the interview. I gripped myself hard, and went on with the argument.
"We can't all be Stanleys and Burtons," said I; "besides, we don't get the chance,--at least, I never had the chance. If I did, I should try to take it."
"But chances are all around you. It is the mark of the kind of man I mean that he makes his own chances. You can't hold him back. I've never met him, and yet I seem to know him so well. There are heroisms all round us waiting to be done. It's for men to do them, and for women to reserve their love as a reward for such men. Look at that young Frenchman who went up last week in a balloon. It was blowing a gale of wind; but because he was announced to go he insisted on starting. The wind blew him fifteen hundred miles in twenty-four hours, and he fell in the middle of Russia. That was the kind of man I mean. Think of the woman he loved, and how other women must have envied her! That's what I should like to be,--envied for my man."
"I'd have done it to please you."
"But you shouldn't do it merely to please me. You should do it because you can't help yourself, because it's natural to you, because the man in you is crying out for heroic expression. Now, when you described the Wigan coal explosion last month, could you not have gone down and helped those people, in spite of the choke-damp?"
"I did."
"You never said so."
"There was nothing worth bucking about."
"I didn't know." She looked at me with rather more interest. "That was brave of you."
"I had to. If you want to write good copy, you must be where the things are."
"What a prosaic motive! It seems to take all the romance out of it. But, still, whatever your motive, I am glad that you went down that mine." She gave me her hand; but with such sweetness and dignity that I could only stoop and kiss it. "I dare say I am merely a foolish woman with a young girl's fancies. And yet it is so real with me, so entirely part of my very self, that I cannot help acting upon it. If I marry, I do want to marry a famous man!"
"Why should you not?" I cried. "It is women like you who brace men up. Give me a chance, and see if I will take it! Besides, as you say, men ought to MAKE their own chances, and not wait until they are given. Look at Clive--just a clerk, and he conquered India! By George! I'll do something in the world yet!"
She laughed at my sudden Irish effervescence. "Why not?" she said. "You have everything a man could have,--youth, health, strength, education, energy. I was sorry you spoke. And now I am glad--so glad--if it wakens these thoughts in you!"
"And if I do----"
Her dear hand rested like warm velvet upon my lips. "Not another word, Sir! You should have been at the office for evening duty half an hour ago; only I hadn't the heart to remind you. Some day, perhaps, when you have won your place in the world, we shall talk it over again."
And so it was that I found myself that foggy November evening pursuing the Camberwell tram with my heart glowing within me, and with the eager determination that not another day should elapse before I should find some deed which was worthy of my lady. But who--who in all this wide world could ever have imagined the incredible shape which that deed was to take, or the strange steps by which I was led to the doing of it?
And, after all, this opening chapter will seem to the reader to have nothing to do with my narrative; and yet there would have been no narrative without it, for it is only when a man goes out into the world with the thought that there are heroisms all round him, and with the desire all alive in his heart to follow any which may come within sight of him, that he breaks away as I did from the life he knows, and ventures forth into the wonderful mystic twilight land where lie the great adventures and the great rewards. Behold me, then, at the office of the Daily Gazette, on the staff of which I was a most insignificant unit, with the settled determination that very night, if possible, to find the quest which should be worthy of my Gladys! Was it hardness, was it selfishness, that she should ask me to risk my life for her own glorification? Such thoughts may come to middle age; but never to ardent three-and-twenty in the fever of his first love.