她的父親亨格頓先生是世界上最不通人情世故的人，心腸好，但絶對是以愚蠢的白我為中心。我毫不懷疑他心裏深信，我每周來三次是因為陪着他是一種快樂。想到將有這樣一個嶽父真叫人掃興，但是沒有什麽東西能使我與格拉迪斯分開。
那天晚上有一個小時或者還多一點，我聽着他那單調的談話。最後他跳了起來，說了些關於我平時不動腦筋的話，就進他的房間換衣服，出席會議去了。
終於我單獨和格拉迪斯一起了。她多美啊！我們當時是朋友，十分好的朋友，但衹是朋友。而格拉迪斯具備了女性的各種美德。直到現在，我還沒有找到通嚮她心靈的道路。不過，管它結果怎樣，今天晚上我得跟她淡了。
我正要打破長時期的沉默，兩衹要命的黑眼睛望着我。
“我覺得你要嚮我求婚了，納德。我真的盼望你不要這樣，事情象現在這樣要好得多。”
我把椅子挪近了點。
“噯，你怎麽知道我要求婚了？”我奇怪地問。
“女人還有不知道的嗎？但是，噢，納德，我們的友誼一直是那麽好，那麽愉快，毀了它多可惜呀！一個年輕男人和一個年輕女人能象你和我這樣談話，你不覺得是實在太好了嗎？”
“我說不清楚，格拉迪斯。瞧，象我們這樣談，我可以跟——跟火車站站長談。”這話使得我們兩人都笑了。“連一點點讓我滿意的地方都沒有。我希望我的胳臂摟着你，你的頭靠着我的胸脯，而且——噢，格拉迪斯，我希望……”
她從椅子上跳了起來，她瞧見了我準備要表示我的某些希望。
“你把什麽都搞糟了，納德，”她說。”這種事沒發生以前，事情是這麽完美、自然，這真糟糕。”
“這是天性，”我說。“是愛情。”
“好吧，也許假如兩人相愛，那會是另外一種情況了。我可從來沒有感覺到。”
“但是你必定——你，還有你的美麗。噢，格拉迪斯，你生來是為了愛情，你應該愛！”
“在愛情到來之前，人必須等待。”
“可是你為什麽不能愛我，格拉迪斯？是因為我的長相，還是別的？”
她微笑着端詳我的臉。
“不，不是那個，”她最後說。”還要深一些。”
“我的性格？”
她嚴肅地點點頭。
“我怎麽能夠補救？坐下，告訴我。”
她坐下了。
“我在愛着別人，”她說。
這回輪到我從椅子上跳起來了。
“這衹是個想象，”她解釋道，望着我臉上的表情笑了“我還沒遇到過那樣的男人。”
“給我講講他吧！他是什麽長相？”
“噢，他可能非常象你。”
“你的話真叫人覺得親密。好吧，他做了什麽我沒做的事？格拉迪斯，如果你告訴我什麽事會使你喜歡，我會努力去做。”
她笑了。
“好，首先，我理想的情人不會那樣說話，”她說。“他會是一個比較堅強、比較嚴肅的人，不會準備使他自己屈從一個蠢姑娘的幻想。但是更為重要的是，他必須是一個能夠有所作為、面對死亡而毫無懼色的人，一個從事偉大事業的人。我應當愛的不是這個人，而是他的事業，這些事業會在我的身上反映出光輝。”
“我們遇不到這種機會了，”我說。”至少，我從來沒有這種機會。”
“但是機會就在你的周圍。真正的人創造他自己的機會，你擋都擋不住他。我還沒有遇到他，然而好象是那樣瞭解他。英雄事業就在我們周圍，等待人去完成。男人完成這些事業，女人愛這樣的男人。我願意因為我的情人而被人嫉妒。”
“我會幹這種事業讓你喜歡。”
“你不應該幹這種事業衹是為了讓我喜歡。你應該做是因為你不能不做，對你來說，這是自然而然的。上個月你報道了威根煤礦爆炸，為什麽不能下去幫助那些人呢？”
“我去幫助了。”
“你從來沒說過。”
“沒什麽可說的。”
“我可不知道。”她很感興趣地望着我說：“你很勇敢。”
“我必須那樣。要是你想寫好稿子，一定得到事情發生的現場。”
“多麽平凡的動機。不過，我仍然高興你下了那個礦。”她把手伸給我，那樣神聖、端莊，我衹能躬去吻吻它。“我衹是一個充滿年輕姑娘幻想的傻女人。我真是那樣，如果我嫁人，我希望嫁一個有名望的人。”
“為什麽不該那樣呢？”我叫嚷着。“象你這樣的女人才使男人有所作為。男人，就象你所說，應該創造自己的機會，而不是等待機會。我發誓，我要為這個世界幹點什麽。”
她又朝我笑了。
“為什麽不？”她說。“你有一個男人能有的一切——年輕，健廉，有力量，受過教育，有活力。我為你過去的講話難受過。我高興——真高興——假如你身上的這些思想被喚醒的活！”
“如果我做了……”
她把她那招人愛的手放在我的唇上。“再別說別的了，先生。也許有這麽一天，你在世界上已經贏得了你的地位，那時候我們再來談它吧！”
就這樣在那個十一月的霧夜裏，帶着想發現某種配得上格拉迪斯事業的急切心情，我到了《每日新聞報》的辦公室，在那個辦公室的職員中，我是一個最微不足道的人。
這一章對讀者來說象是和我記敘的故事無關，然而沒有這一章，也就不會有這個故事了。
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 E. D. Malone desires to state that both the injunction for restraint and the libel action have been withdrawn unreservedly by Professor G. E. Challenger, who, being satisfied that no criticism or comment in this book is meant in an offensive spirit, has guaranteed that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.
那天晚上有一個小時或者還多一點，我聽着他那單調的談話。最後他跳了起來，說了些關於我平時不動腦筋的話，就進他的房間換衣服，出席會議去了。
終於我單獨和格拉迪斯一起了。她多美啊！我們當時是朋友，十分好的朋友，但衹是朋友。而格拉迪斯具備了女性的各種美德。直到現在，我還沒有找到通嚮她心靈的道路。不過，管它結果怎樣，今天晚上我得跟她淡了。
我正要打破長時期的沉默，兩衹要命的黑眼睛望着我。
“我覺得你要嚮我求婚了，納德。我真的盼望你不要這樣，事情象現在這樣要好得多。”
我把椅子挪近了點。
“噯，你怎麽知道我要求婚了？”我奇怪地問。
“女人還有不知道的嗎？但是，噢，納德，我們的友誼一直是那麽好，那麽愉快，毀了它多可惜呀！一個年輕男人和一個年輕女人能象你和我這樣談話，你不覺得是實在太好了嗎？”
“我說不清楚，格拉迪斯。瞧，象我們這樣談，我可以跟——跟火車站站長談。”這話使得我們兩人都笑了。“連一點點讓我滿意的地方都沒有。我希望我的胳臂摟着你，你的頭靠着我的胸脯，而且——噢，格拉迪斯，我希望……”
她從椅子上跳了起來，她瞧見了我準備要表示我的某些希望。
“你把什麽都搞糟了，納德，”她說。”這種事沒發生以前，事情是這麽完美、自然，這真糟糕。”
“這是天性，”我說。“是愛情。”
“好吧，也許假如兩人相愛，那會是另外一種情況了。我可從來沒有感覺到。”
“但是你必定——你，還有你的美麗。噢，格拉迪斯，你生來是為了愛情，你應該愛！”
“在愛情到來之前，人必須等待。”
“可是你為什麽不能愛我，格拉迪斯？是因為我的長相，還是別的？”
她微笑着端詳我的臉。
“不，不是那個，”她最後說。”還要深一些。”
“我的性格？”
她嚴肅地點點頭。
“我怎麽能夠補救？坐下，告訴我。”
她坐下了。
“我在愛着別人，”她說。
這回輪到我從椅子上跳起來了。
“這衹是個想象，”她解釋道，望着我臉上的表情笑了“我還沒遇到過那樣的男人。”
“給我講講他吧！他是什麽長相？”
“噢，他可能非常象你。”
“你的話真叫人覺得親密。好吧，他做了什麽我沒做的事？格拉迪斯，如果你告訴我什麽事會使你喜歡，我會努力去做。”
她笑了。
“好，首先，我理想的情人不會那樣說話，”她說。“他會是一個比較堅強、比較嚴肅的人，不會準備使他自己屈從一個蠢姑娘的幻想。但是更為重要的是，他必須是一個能夠有所作為、面對死亡而毫無懼色的人，一個從事偉大事業的人。我應當愛的不是這個人，而是他的事業，這些事業會在我的身上反映出光輝。”
“我們遇不到這種機會了，”我說。”至少，我從來沒有這種機會。”
“但是機會就在你的周圍。真正的人創造他自己的機會，你擋都擋不住他。我還沒有遇到他，然而好象是那樣瞭解他。英雄事業就在我們周圍，等待人去完成。男人完成這些事業，女人愛這樣的男人。我願意因為我的情人而被人嫉妒。”
“我會幹這種事業讓你喜歡。”
“你不應該幹這種事業衹是為了讓我喜歡。你應該做是因為你不能不做，對你來說，這是自然而然的。上個月你報道了威根煤礦爆炸，為什麽不能下去幫助那些人呢？”
“我去幫助了。”
“你從來沒說過。”
“沒什麽可說的。”
“我可不知道。”她很感興趣地望着我說：“你很勇敢。”
“我必須那樣。要是你想寫好稿子，一定得到事情發生的現場。”
“多麽平凡的動機。不過，我仍然高興你下了那個礦。”她把手伸給我，那樣神聖、端莊，我衹能躬去吻吻它。“我衹是一個充滿年輕姑娘幻想的傻女人。我真是那樣，如果我嫁人，我希望嫁一個有名望的人。”
“為什麽不該那樣呢？”我叫嚷着。“象你這樣的女人才使男人有所作為。男人，就象你所說，應該創造自己的機會，而不是等待機會。我發誓，我要為這個世界幹點什麽。”
她又朝我笑了。
“為什麽不？”她說。“你有一個男人能有的一切——年輕，健廉，有力量，受過教育，有活力。我為你過去的講話難受過。我高興——真高興——假如你身上的這些思想被喚醒的活！”
“如果我做了……”
她把她那招人愛的手放在我的唇上。“再別說別的了，先生。也許有這麽一天，你在世界上已經贏得了你的地位，那時候我們再來談它吧！”
就這樣在那個十一月的霧夜裏，帶着想發現某種配得上格拉迪斯事業的急切心情，我到了《每日新聞報》的辦公室，在那個辦公室的職員中，我是一個最微不足道的人。
這一章對讀者來說象是和我記敘的故事無關，然而沒有這一章，也就不會有這個故事了。
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.
我一直喜歡麥卡德爾，這個上了年紀的、紅頭髮的新聞編輯，我也希望他喜歡我。當然博蒙特纔是真正的老闆，但是他生活在奧林匹亞頂峰稀薄的氣層裏，從那裏他是看不見比國際危機或者內閣意見分歧更小一點的事情。他高高在上，超越我們。但是他有代理人，麥卡德爾就是第一代理人。我進屋子的時候，老頭嚮我點點頭，把眼鏡嚮上推得老高，一直推到光禿的腦門上。
“噯，馬隆先生，我從各方面聽說，你象是幹得很好，”他用蘇格蘭口音和善地對我說。
我謝了謝他。
“威根煤礦爆炸的報道好極了。火災的報道也好極了。你來見我有什麽事嗎？”
“請求你照顧一下。”
他看樣子吃了一驚。“嘖，嘖！什麽事啊？”
“先生，你想沒想到可以讓我為報紙出趟差？我會盡我的力量給你搞些好的稿子來。”
“你想的是種什麽樣的差事呢，馬隆先生？”
“嗯，先生，任何有危險、要冒險的事情。我確實會盡我最大的力量來完成。事情越睏難，對我越合適。”
“你象是急着要送掉你的命。”
“要評價我的生命，先生。”
“恐怕有這類事情的日子已經過去了。地圖上巨大的空白區正在被填滿，不論哪裏都沒有給傳奇冒險留下地盤，不過，等一下！”他加了一句，臉上突然出現了微笑，”說起地圖上的空白區使我想起來了。有個——一個近代的牛皮大戲。拿他寫篇文章倒不壞。嗯？你覺得怎麽樣？”
“什麽事情，什麽地方都行。”
麥卡德爾想了一會。
“我不知道你能不能跟那個傢夥相處，友好地——或者談話的措詞最低限度是友好的，”最後他說。“你象是有那種能和別人建立聯繫的天才。”
“謝謝你，先生。”
“那麽你為什麽不上查倫傑教授那裏碰碰你的運氣呢？”
我想我露出來了吃驚的樣子。
“查倫傑？”我叫了起來。“查倫傑教授，有名的動物學家。他不就是把《電訊報》布倫德爾的腦袋打破了的那個人嗎？”
新聞編輯笑了。
“你害怕嗎？你不是說你要去冒險嗎？”
“當然去冒險。我不怕，先生，”我回答。
“我不認為他總是那樣壞。很可能布倫德爾上他那去的不是時候，或者是用了一種不合時宜的方式。跟他說話要策略些，你的運氣會好的。我相信，這件事正是你所需要的。”
“我對他還真的一無所知，”我說。“是因為布倫德爾那件事，我纔記得他的名字。”
“我這裏有點筆記，馬隆先生。有這麽一段時間，我挺註意他。”他從抽屜裏拿出一張紙來。“把這個拿去吧！今晚上我再沒有什麽要跟你說的了。”
我把紙放到口袋裏。
“等一下，先生，”我說。“我還不很清楚，我訪問這位先生是為了什麽。他做過什麽事嗎？”
“兩年前他一個人到南美做了一趟探險，去年回來了。毫無疑問他是到過南美，但就是不說到底到了哪兒。他在講那次冒險時含含糊糊的，有人提出質疑，他就緊閉上嘴。或者是某些奇跡一樣的事發生過——或者這個人撒謊，而這個假設是更可能的！他有幾張保護得不好的照片。有人說這些照片是假的。他不回答任何問題，把記者踢出門去。我的意見是，他不過是個對科學有興趣的誇大妄想癥的病患者。馬隆先生，這就是你的采訪對象。現在，大步走吧，瞧瞧你將會做點什麽。你年齡夠大了，能照顧你自己了。”
會見結束了。
我上俱樂部去，路上我停了下來，望着黑暗的泰晤士河，在露大地裏我總是思考得更加清楚。我拿出麥卡德爾給我的那張紙片，在電燈下讀了起來。我當時産生了一個靈感。根據別人給我介紹的情況，我擔保作為記者我永遠不會有希望和這位教授接觸。而他的傳記表明，他在科學上是個狂熱的人，那麽我得找出一個立足點，靠這個立足點他也許接見我。
我進了俱樂部。時間剛剛過了十一點，大屋子到處都是人。我看到一個高高的、瘦瘦的男人，靠着火坐在一張扶手椅上。當我把椅子挪近他的的時候，他轉過臉來。是塔爾甫·亨利，《自然》雜志的工作人員。
“你知道點查倫傑教授的情況嗎？”我問。
“查倫傑？”
我點點頭。
“查倫傑是個從南美帶回來些稀奇故事的人。”
“什麽故事？”
“啊，瞎扯淡，說他發現了些古怪動物。我相信他現在已經不談了。他跟大傢會見了一次，會上那個笑啊，連他也看出來他的故事不行了。有一兩個人原來準備把他當回事的，但很快對他就沒有興趣了。”
“為什麽？”
“嗯，由於他的行為讓人不能忍受。動物學會有個可憐的老瓦德雷。瓦德雷曾寫了封信：‘動物學會會長嚮查倫傑教授致敬，下次會議如蒙光臨，本人將不勝感激。’他的答復要印出來，簡直有傷大雅。”
“你說說吧！”
“好吧：信的一開始是：‘查倫傑教授嚮動物學會會長致敬，如蒙滾蛋，本人將不勝感激。’”
“老天爺啊！”
“是啊，我想老瓦德雷也這麽說吧。”
“查倫傑還有什麽事嗎？”
“嗯，你知道，我是一個細菌學家，不過我還聽說過查倫傑的一些事。他人聰明，富有活力，但是個趕時髦的人，而且粗魯得令人不能忍受。他甚至為他在南美從事的工作造了一些假照片。”
“你說他是個趕時髦的人。他在什麽地方特別趕時髦了？”
“有的是，但是新近的是魏司曼和進化論。我相信他在維也納和人狠狠地吵了一場。”
“不能告訴我爭論的要點嗎？”
“現在不行，不過有記錄匯編的譯本。我們辦公室裏有。你願意來一趟嗎？”
“我正要那個。我必須去訪問這個傢夥，需要些材料。我一定得知道跟他談什麽。你對我真是太幫忙了，我現在就跟你去，不太晚嗎？”
半小時後我坐在雜志社的辦公室裏，眼前是一本記錄匯編。我不懂辯論的全部，但明顯的是這位英國教授非常盛氣凌人，把大陸上的同行都惹火了。匯編上我看到一處又一處用括號括起來的“”、“吵鬧聲”等字眼兒。
“我理不出個頭緒來，”我驚叫着。
“如果你不是個專傢，當然那是有點難懂的，”塔爾甫·亨利回答我。
“哪怕能夠找到一句有用的話，”我說。“啊，有了，這句行。這句我象差不多懂得。我把它抄下來，這將會使我和那位可怕的教授搭上關係。”
“再沒有別的事要我做的了？”
“嗯，還有。我想寫封信給他。假如我能在這兒寫並且使用你的地址，那就太好了。你可以看這封信，我擔保沒有惹他生氣的地方。”
“好吧！那是我的桌子和椅子。紙在那兒。不過你發信前給我看看。”
寫信花了點時間，不過當信寫完了的時候，我認為這事幹得並不那麽壞。我有些驕傲地嚮挑剔的細菌學家朗讀着。
“‘親愛的查倫傑教授，’”信寫道，“‘作為一個大自然的研究者，我總是對你關於達爾文與魏司曼之間相異之處的考慮深感興趣。我最近有機會重讀——”
“你這個壞透了的騙子！”塔爾甫·亨利驚叫着。
“‘重讀了你在維也納出色的講演。不過內中有句活，好象我不理解。如蒙允許，請賜一見，因為我有些建議，而這些建議衹能在個別談話中說明。如蒙同意，我定於後日（星期三）上午十一時前來叨光。
‘謹嚮先生緻以真誠深切的敬意。愛德華·頓·馬隆敬啓’”
“怎麽樣？”我得意洋洋地問。
“嗯，假如你能昧着良心——。不過你這是要幹什麽？”
“到他那兒，衹要我到了他的屋裏，我也許會知道怎麽做。我甚至可以坦白認罪。假如他有運動傢的風度，他會理解的。”
“好吧，再見。星期三上午在這裏我會接到給你的答復——如果他真答復的話。他是一個危險的人物，誰都恨他。”
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.
“噯，馬隆先生，我從各方面聽說，你象是幹得很好，”他用蘇格蘭口音和善地對我說。
我謝了謝他。
“威根煤礦爆炸的報道好極了。火災的報道也好極了。你來見我有什麽事嗎？”
“請求你照顧一下。”
他看樣子吃了一驚。“嘖，嘖！什麽事啊？”
“先生，你想沒想到可以讓我為報紙出趟差？我會盡我的力量給你搞些好的稿子來。”
“你想的是種什麽樣的差事呢，馬隆先生？”
“嗯，先生，任何有危險、要冒險的事情。我確實會盡我最大的力量來完成。事情越睏難，對我越合適。”
“你象是急着要送掉你的命。”
“要評價我的生命，先生。”
“恐怕有這類事情的日子已經過去了。地圖上巨大的空白區正在被填滿，不論哪裏都沒有給傳奇冒險留下地盤，不過，等一下！”他加了一句，臉上突然出現了微笑，”說起地圖上的空白區使我想起來了。有個——一個近代的牛皮大戲。拿他寫篇文章倒不壞。嗯？你覺得怎麽樣？”
“什麽事情，什麽地方都行。”
麥卡德爾想了一會。
“我不知道你能不能跟那個傢夥相處，友好地——或者談話的措詞最低限度是友好的，”最後他說。“你象是有那種能和別人建立聯繫的天才。”
“謝謝你，先生。”
“那麽你為什麽不上查倫傑教授那裏碰碰你的運氣呢？”
我想我露出來了吃驚的樣子。
“查倫傑？”我叫了起來。“查倫傑教授，有名的動物學家。他不就是把《電訊報》布倫德爾的腦袋打破了的那個人嗎？”
新聞編輯笑了。
“你害怕嗎？你不是說你要去冒險嗎？”
“當然去冒險。我不怕，先生，”我回答。
“我不認為他總是那樣壞。很可能布倫德爾上他那去的不是時候，或者是用了一種不合時宜的方式。跟他說話要策略些，你的運氣會好的。我相信，這件事正是你所需要的。”
“我對他還真的一無所知，”我說。“是因為布倫德爾那件事，我纔記得他的名字。”
“我這裏有點筆記，馬隆先生。有這麽一段時間，我挺註意他。”他從抽屜裏拿出一張紙來。“把這個拿去吧！今晚上我再沒有什麽要跟你說的了。”
我把紙放到口袋裏。
“等一下，先生，”我說。“我還不很清楚，我訪問這位先生是為了什麽。他做過什麽事嗎？”
“兩年前他一個人到南美做了一趟探險，去年回來了。毫無疑問他是到過南美，但就是不說到底到了哪兒。他在講那次冒險時含含糊糊的，有人提出質疑，他就緊閉上嘴。或者是某些奇跡一樣的事發生過——或者這個人撒謊，而這個假設是更可能的！他有幾張保護得不好的照片。有人說這些照片是假的。他不回答任何問題，把記者踢出門去。我的意見是，他不過是個對科學有興趣的誇大妄想癥的病患者。馬隆先生，這就是你的采訪對象。現在，大步走吧，瞧瞧你將會做點什麽。你年齡夠大了，能照顧你自己了。”
會見結束了。
我上俱樂部去，路上我停了下來，望着黑暗的泰晤士河，在露大地裏我總是思考得更加清楚。我拿出麥卡德爾給我的那張紙片，在電燈下讀了起來。我當時産生了一個靈感。根據別人給我介紹的情況，我擔保作為記者我永遠不會有希望和這位教授接觸。而他的傳記表明，他在科學上是個狂熱的人，那麽我得找出一個立足點，靠這個立足點他也許接見我。
我進了俱樂部。時間剛剛過了十一點，大屋子到處都是人。我看到一個高高的、瘦瘦的男人，靠着火坐在一張扶手椅上。當我把椅子挪近他的的時候，他轉過臉來。是塔爾甫·亨利，《自然》雜志的工作人員。
“你知道點查倫傑教授的情況嗎？”我問。
“查倫傑？”
我點點頭。
“查倫傑是個從南美帶回來些稀奇故事的人。”
“什麽故事？”
“啊，瞎扯淡，說他發現了些古怪動物。我相信他現在已經不談了。他跟大傢會見了一次，會上那個笑啊，連他也看出來他的故事不行了。有一兩個人原來準備把他當回事的，但很快對他就沒有興趣了。”
“為什麽？”
“嗯，由於他的行為讓人不能忍受。動物學會有個可憐的老瓦德雷。瓦德雷曾寫了封信：‘動物學會會長嚮查倫傑教授致敬，下次會議如蒙光臨，本人將不勝感激。’他的答復要印出來，簡直有傷大雅。”
“你說說吧！”
“好吧：信的一開始是：‘查倫傑教授嚮動物學會會長致敬，如蒙滾蛋，本人將不勝感激。’”
“老天爺啊！”
“是啊，我想老瓦德雷也這麽說吧。”
“查倫傑還有什麽事嗎？”
“嗯，你知道，我是一個細菌學家，不過我還聽說過查倫傑的一些事。他人聰明，富有活力，但是個趕時髦的人，而且粗魯得令人不能忍受。他甚至為他在南美從事的工作造了一些假照片。”
“你說他是個趕時髦的人。他在什麽地方特別趕時髦了？”
“有的是，但是新近的是魏司曼和進化論。我相信他在維也納和人狠狠地吵了一場。”
“不能告訴我爭論的要點嗎？”
“現在不行，不過有記錄匯編的譯本。我們辦公室裏有。你願意來一趟嗎？”
“我正要那個。我必須去訪問這個傢夥，需要些材料。我一定得知道跟他談什麽。你對我真是太幫忙了，我現在就跟你去，不太晚嗎？”
半小時後我坐在雜志社的辦公室裏，眼前是一本記錄匯編。我不懂辯論的全部，但明顯的是這位英國教授非常盛氣凌人，把大陸上的同行都惹火了。匯編上我看到一處又一處用括號括起來的“”、“吵鬧聲”等字眼兒。
“我理不出個頭緒來，”我驚叫着。
“如果你不是個專傢，當然那是有點難懂的，”塔爾甫·亨利回答我。
“哪怕能夠找到一句有用的話，”我說。“啊，有了，這句行。這句我象差不多懂得。我把它抄下來，這將會使我和那位可怕的教授搭上關係。”
“再沒有別的事要我做的了？”
“嗯，還有。我想寫封信給他。假如我能在這兒寫並且使用你的地址，那就太好了。你可以看這封信，我擔保沒有惹他生氣的地方。”
“好吧！那是我的桌子和椅子。紙在那兒。不過你發信前給我看看。”
寫信花了點時間，不過當信寫完了的時候，我認為這事幹得並不那麽壞。我有些驕傲地嚮挑剔的細菌學家朗讀着。
“‘親愛的查倫傑教授，’”信寫道，“‘作為一個大自然的研究者，我總是對你關於達爾文與魏司曼之間相異之處的考慮深感興趣。我最近有機會重讀——”
“你這個壞透了的騙子！”塔爾甫·亨利驚叫着。
“‘重讀了你在維也納出色的講演。不過內中有句活，好象我不理解。如蒙允許，請賜一見，因為我有些建議，而這些建議衹能在個別談話中說明。如蒙同意，我定於後日（星期三）上午十一時前來叨光。
‘謹嚮先生緻以真誠深切的敬意。愛德華·頓·馬隆敬啓’”
“怎麽樣？”我得意洋洋地問。
“嗯，假如你能昧着良心——。不過你這是要幹什麽？”
“到他那兒，衹要我到了他的屋裏，我也許會知道怎麽做。我甚至可以坦白認罪。假如他有運動傢的風度，他會理解的。”
“好吧，再見。星期三上午在這裏我會接到給你的答復——如果他真答復的話。他是一個危險的人物，誰都恨他。”
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.