The Love Story of Spillikins (1) On or near Protoria Street almost any day you can see little Mr. Spillikins walking with his four tall sons--who are nearly as old as he is .To be exact, Mr. Spillikins was twenty-four, and Bob--the oldest of the boys--was at least twenty.The age of the children is unknown, for a terrible accident made their mother forget all about it.The children were staying at the Special Youth Academy in the Tennessee hills that Mr. Wickham had started; their mother, Mrs. Awalley, was spending the winter in the Riviera and felt she had to go through the pain for the children's sake. Let them stay with her.

But now, since Mrs. Everwalley had remarried and became Mrs. Everwalley-Spillikins, there was of course no need for them to stay at Mr. Wickham's.Mr. Spillikins was able to look after them.Mr. Spillikins usually wore a top hat and an English morning coat.The boys wore children's jackets and black trousers, and their clothes were always a little shorter, according to their mother's wishes.This is because Mrs. Everleigh-Spillikins felt that there would come a day—perhaps fifteen years from now—when children would cease to be children, and now would be a good time to feel that they were still still. Just kids, that's wonderful.Bob was the oldest, but Seab the youngest was the tallest, and Willie, the third, was reputed to be the dumbest, despite objections that the second, Gibb, was even dumber.Anyway, the four brothers have their own strengths and get along very well.As for Mrs Everley-Spillikins, you don't see her walking with them.She might be at a race meeting, and she was taken there by Captain Cormorant of the United States Navy, whom Mr. Spillikins thought was very handsome.Due to his service in the Navy, Captain Cormorant is forced to go to sea from time to time, perhaps for a whole afternoon or even several days. Taken to hunting clubs or country clubs by Lieutenant Colonel Hawke, Mr. Spillikins thought the lieutenant colonel was very thoughtful.If Lieutenant-Colonel Hawke was out of town on this day--sometimes he had to, because he was in the U.S. Army--Mrs Spillikins would be taken away by Colonel Shaker, who was in the National Guard. , available at any time.

As they walked down Plutoria Street you could hear the four boys calling Mr. Spillikins "Pa" and "Daddy," in voices as deep as a bullfrog's. "Hey, Dad," said Bob slowly, "shall we go play baseball?" "Hey, don't go, Father," said Gibb, "let's all go home and how about playing nickels in the pool room at home?" "Okay, kids," Spillikins said.After a while, you'd see them swarming up the steps of the Everleigh-Spillikins house, talking to each other, eager to try their hand at the pool table.These everyday sights, to those who appreciate them, represent the fruit of Mr. Spillikins' intricate love story, the climax of which took place in the little castle of Casteggio. It was Mr. and Mrs. Newberry's summer home in the woods for a summer family gathering.

But to understand this romance, we have to look back a year or so back.Mr. Peter Spillikins used to walk alone in Pretoria Avenue in those days, or sit at the Mausoleum Club and be advised that he should really marry. In those days the first thing one noticed about Mr. Peter Spillikins was his sublime view of women.Every time he passed a beautiful woman on the street, he would say to himself, "Yeah!" Even if he met a woman of average beauty, he would say to himself, "Yo!" When a woman wearing an Easter flower hat floats past, or sees a group of women holding summer parasols chatting on a street corner shaded by green leaves, Mr. Spillikins will blurt out admiration: "Wow!" At a ball, his blue eyes, already protruding, would pop so wide that they would almost burst out of his head.

Also, if he happened to be with his friends at that moment, he would have murmured, "Hey, look at that pretty girl." Did you?" Or at the opera, "Don't let her see you looking at her, old boy, do you see that lovely chick in the box across the way?" It must be added, too, that despite his large and bulging blue eyes, Mr. Spillikins enjoyed the blessing of short-sightedness, a gift of God.As a result, he lives in a world full of astonishingly beautiful women.And since his mind focused in the same way as his eyes did, he incorporated all the virtue and grace that belonged to a fifty-dollar floral hat and a pink parasol with an ivory handle. empowered these women.It must be said in justice that this attitude of Mr. Spillikins was not limited to looking at women.That's how he treats everything.Every time he went to the opera house, he would leave with enthusiasm: "Wow, it's just wonderful! Of course, my ears can't appreciate it-you know, I'm not good at music-but my little As far as I'm concerned, it's good enough, it puts me right to sleep." Of every novel he buys, he says, "This is a fantastic novel. Of course I understand I couldn’t get it, so I didn’t finish it, but it’s definitely a thrilling novel.” The same goes for paintings, where he’d say, “It’s the best painting I’ve ever seen, and of course I can’t appreciate it, I can't see anything in it, but it's awesome!"

Up to the time we are talking, Spillikins had had an unsatisfactory career, at least in the eyes of Mr. Boulder, his uncle and trustee.Mr. Boulder's earliest idea was to send Mr. Spillikins to college.Mr. Boomer, the president of the University of Plutoria, has done his best to persuade the general public to accept his idea that a college education is perfectly suitable even for the rich, not that once a university is completed a One no longer has to work or go on to school, and the purpose of a university education is nothing more than to impress a person.That's his whole point.From the gist of the Chancellor's speech, this imprint of a university education is entirely harmless.No one need be afraid of it.As a result of this enlightenment, many of the best young lads in town have gone to college, even though they don't have to go to college at all. "This marks a revolution," Mr. Himmer said.

Mr. Spillikins himself was fascinated by his studies.In his eyes, those professors were living miracles. "Wow!" he said, "that math professor is amazing. You should see him explaining trigonometry on the blackboard. You will not understand a word. ’ He had no idea what his favorite subject was. “Physics is a wonderfully arcane subject,” he said, “and I only knew five percent of it.But, my God!I have to learn it.I would devote my life to studying it if they would allow it. " But that's the trouble - they don't allow it.So over time, due to many academic reasons, Mr. Spillikins was forced to give up his lifelong career.His final exclamation on this was: "My God! I almost passed trigonometry!"

Later, as Mr. Spillikins had to leave the university, his trustee, Mr. Boulder, put him in business.It was his own business, of course, one of his many businesses for which he had been signing documents and counter-signing checks since he was only twenty-one years old.So Mr. Spillikins set up a wholesale oil business himself in an office filled with mahogany furniture.And he likes it.He said that business can greatly increase a person's intelligence. "Mr. Spillikins," would say the person who came to the Mahogany Office for business, "I'm afraid we can't afford your five dollars a barrel price. Judging from the current market, we can only pay four dollars and seven dollars at most." horn."

"My dear friend," said Spillikins, "do as you say. Thirty cents isn't much, er, what's there to say? Damn it, we ain't gonna fight over thirty cents." Go, old man. How many barrels do you want?" "Oh, four dollars and seventy cents a barrel, we want twenty thousand barrels." "Whoa!" said Mr. Spillikins. "Twenty thousand barrels! My God! That's a lot for you, isn't it? That's a lot of business for a beginner like me, yes. Right? I guess it's no wonder that Uncle is happy to die." Mr. Boulder was having enough fun, too much, to urge Mr. Spillikins to retire after a few weeks of selling, and to write off thousands of dollars from his assets.

So there was only one thing Mr. Spillikins could do--marry, everyone told him. "Spelikins," said his friends after winning all his pocket money at the poker table, "you should get married." "You think so?" said Mr. Spillikins. God knows he would love to be married.In fact, hitherto, Spillikins' whole body and mind had been yearning for the joys of marriage, and often bemoaning that they couldn't.During his brief college days, when he was taking trigonometry class, he would often be tempted to peek timidly at the seats on the right side of the classroom, where the first-year girls sat, each of whom had a golden hair combed behind their heads. braid.He would have liked to marry any of them.But what use is marriage to a girl if she can solve triangle problems with ease?Nothing works.Mr. Spillikins knew this, and he made no admiration for any of them.Even when the prettiest girl in her class married the guy who proved her affections and dropped out of school the following year, Spillikins just realized that it was undoubtedly only because the guy was more sensible and proved himself feelings.

Later, when Spillikins devoted himself to business and entered society, the same fate followed him.For at least six months he had loved Georgiana McTeague, the niece of the Presbyterian vicar of St. Ossoff's.He loved her so much that he temporarily gave up his seat in St. Asaph's Church (Anglican) for her, and listened to fourteen consecutive sermons on hell.But that's where the romance ended.Indeed, once or twice Spillikins walked home with Georgiana, discussing hell with her along the way.Another time her uncle invited him to a cold supper at the parsonage after vespers, and they had another long conversation about hell throughout the meal, and then in the drawing-room upstairs they talked about it again.But somehow, Spillikins couldn't go any further.He read all the books on hell he could find, in order to be able to talk to Georgiana, but the attempt failed--a priest just graduated from the seminary came, and he preached at St. Ossoff's church. Six exceptional sermons preaching the absolute existence of eternal punishment resulted in his marriage to Miss Georgiana.At the same time Mr. Spillikins was engaged to Adelinea Lettere for life, or nearly so, not that he confessed his love to her, but that he felt committed to her.For her sake he'd given up all hell and all that stuff and lived dancing until two o'clock in the morning and learned beat bridge from a book.For a while he felt pretty sure she had decided to marry her, so he started taking his best friend, Edward Roof, a college football player, Spillikins, to the Wrightleys. Very proud of him.He deliberately did this to make Adeline and Edward become good friends, so that he and Adeline could invite Edward to visit their home after their marriage.Adeline and Edward became fast friends so quickly that they were married in New York that fall.Edward and Adeline often invited Spillikins to their home after their marriage.They both told Spillikins that they were helping him, and they often repeated the same old story to him as everyone else did, saying, "You know, Peter, you'd be very stupid not to marry." All this happened and ended at about the time when the Asia-Brazilian Oriental Society began its activities.At its first workshop, Spillikins met Dalfemia Laselier-Brown.From the moment he first set eyes on her, he studied the life of the Buddha and the Upanishads translated into English so that he could count on living with her.Even when the Society ended in disaster, Spillikins' love did not die out, but only intensified.Finally, when he learned that Mr. and Mrs. Laselier-Brown were going away for the summer, and that Dalfimia was going to the little castle of Casteggio--the Newberry family's summer resort--and Mr. Newberry After staying with his wife for a while, that place became the only place in the world Mr. Spillikins would like to go.Therefore, when Mr. Spillikins received the invitation letter as scheduled, he was naturally promoted to the seventh heaven immediately.The invitation read: "We would be very happy if you would come out of town and stay with us for a week or two. We will send a car to pick you up for your train on Thursday. We have a very simple life here, in fact. Well, as Mr. Newberry says, we lead a purely ascetic life, but I'm sure you won't mind a change of life for a while. Darphemia is with us, but we're not many of us here altogether. ’” The letter was signed “Margaret Newberry,” and it was written on heavy beige paper with silver monograms, as back-to-basics used to do. Like everyone else, the Newberry family went out of town to escape the heat once the summer came.As Mr. Newberry was still in business, it would have been disrespectful, in fashion, if he had been in town all year.That would give the market a bad impression that he is not someone who does big business.In fact, in early summer, everyone goes out of town to escape the heat.The few people who visited the city in August said they saw no one on the street. What comes down to everyone is some kind of longing for a simple life, for nature.Some seek it by the sea, where nature opens up all her wide boardwalks, her long water platforms, and gives her various vaudeville shows.Others seek it in the depths of the country, where Nature spreads out all her paved roads and roadside inns.Still others, like the Newberys, preferred to "live the ascetic life" in their own country retreat.It has already been said that some people leave the city for business reasons, so as not to suspect that they have to work all the year round.Others simply went to Europe to avoid the accusation that they were always stuck in the United States.Others, probably most, were sent out of town by their doctors for medical reasons.The doctors of Plutoria Street, like Dr. Schreider, were always willing to send their patients out of town one by one in the summer, since they had one disease or another.None of the well-off doctors are willing to worry about them in summer.Of course, even if patients desire to go somewhere for their own reasons, they prefer to be sent away by their doctors. "My dear lady," Dr. Schreider used to say to a lady he knew who longed to go to Virginia, "there is really nothing I can do for you." And he was right. "There's no need for therapy. It's just a matter of leaving everything behind and going away to relax. Why don't you leave the city for a month or two and go somewhere quiet where you don't do anything at all?" ( He knew she never did anything anyway.) "How would you like to go to the hot springs in Virginia to recuperate?—it's absolutely quiet, the golf course is great, no one bothers you, and you can have fun playing tennis. ’ or he could have said, ‘My dear lady, you are just worn out. Why don’t you just drop all your chores and go to Canada?—it’s very quiet there, nobody bothers you, and I’m sure you’ll People go there in fashion." The Love Story of Spillikins (2) So, after having sent all the patients away, Dr. Schreider and his colleagues in the Protoriastrasse went off to Paris and Vienna and stayed there for a month or two. .According to themselves, this keeps them abreast of what doctors on the continent are doing.Maybe they are.It so happened that the parents of Darfimia Laselier-Miss Brown were sent out of town in this way.Mrs. Laselier-Brown's bitter experience with the Assi-Brazil Society put her in such a position that she could not do anything but cruise the Mediterranean, so she went with eighty other people in the same position. there.And Mr. Laselier-Brown himself, though never strictly a patient, confessed that after all the troubles of the Assi-Brazil Association he needed to cheer up and strengthen his body. Get up, so he puts himself in the hands of Dr. Schreider.The doctor examined him, asked him what he was drinking, and finally advised him to drink Portuguese red wine with determination and fearlessness at night, and a little low wine during the day, whenever he felt exhausted. Drink a refreshing drink, such as rye whiskey, or drink a little rum and Vichy mineral water.In addition, Dr. Schreider suggested that Mr. Laselier-Brown go out and relax. "Why don't you go to Naga Harquet on the Atlantic?" he asked. "Is that in Maine?" asked Mr. Laselier-Brown anxiously. "Oh, dear, no!" said the doctor again with certainty, "that's in New Brunswick, Canada; that's a wonderful place with the most liberal franchise laws; The hotel has top-notch cooking and a bar. No tourists, no golf, too cold to swim - just the place to be for some personal peace.” So Mr. Laselier-Brown also departed, with the consequence that, at the particular moment we are speaking of, Dalfimia Laselier-Brown will be staying with Mr. and Mrs. Newberry. A glamorous summer retreat, it was reported in the Boudoir and Society section of the Plutorian Mona.The Newberys belonged to that class of people who saw simple living as a summer task.Mr. Newberry himself said that his only idea of ​​a holiday was to go into the bush, wear old clothes, and eat only when he felt the craving. That is why he built the little castle of Casteggio.It was situated forty miles from the city, by a little lake among wooded hills.Although there are fifteen or twenty other cottages like it dotted around the lake, it is completely isolated from the outside world.The only access there was the driveway that wound through the wooded hills from the station fifteen miles away.Every foot of this path is private property, as nature should be.The whole countryside around the little castle of Casteggio is absolutely original, or at any rate as original as Scottish gardeners and French landscape artists can do.The lake lay there like a shining gem from Nature's factory--only they raised its level ten feet, built stone banks, cleared the brush, and circled the lake. A driveway was built on the lake.Beyond the driveway is pure nature.The little castle of Casteggio, a handsome white-brick villa with winding verandahs and gleaming conservatories, stands on a meadow that slopes down to the lake, surrounded by tall trees, There are flower beds in front.It is perhaps the most beautiful of all the villas.Anyway, it's the perfect place to wear your shabby clothes and dine early (7.30am), and a great place to enjoy some privacy in absolute freedom - only when hosting tennis parties, jet ski parties, lawn teas and golf The exception is game time. It should be clarified that the villa is not called Castello di Castello because the Newberys are Italian—they are not, nor because they own property in Italy—they don’t, much less Not because they've traveled there -- they haven't.Indeed, for a while they considered giving the house a Welsh name, or perhaps a Scottish name.But since the beautiful Astrisk-Thomsons' cottage in the same pristine country nearby had been named Penigwey-Red, the Hafen-Jonassis's on the other side of the lake The wood house had been named Strasset Hannaxey, and the charming Wilson-Smith house had been named Udall Doodles, so that the Newberry house An Italian name seems fairer. "My God! Miss Furlong, it's very kind of you to come and pick me up!" The suburban train—only two cars, both first-class, since it only went to the wild countryside outside the city—had stopped at a wayside station.As soon as Mr. Spillikins got off the train, he saw Miss Philippa Furlong waiting for him in the car, sitting behind the driver of the Newberys.She had the beauty that only the sister of a High Church Anglican clergyman can have, and on this beautiful July morning she was dressed in white--a holy colour.Philippa Furlong's charm was unmistakable.Her beauty was of that peculiar and almost divine kind to be found only in the side of a high priest.Those who envied or admired her admitted that she entered the church more gracefully, walked more gracefully through the inner corridors of the church, and prayed better than any girl in Protoria Street. Seeing her in her white summer dress, beautiful wide-brimmed hat, and swaying parasol, Mr. Spillikins immediately realized that religion played an important role in the world anyway, and the high sect The pastor's sisters are proof of that. "My God!" he repeated, "you are very kind!" "Nothing," said Philippa, "jump in. Dalfimia was going to come, but she couldn't. That's your carriage, isn't that all?" The last sentence is a bit ironic.It meant the two suitcases that Mr. Spillikins was loading into the car, as well as his small suitcase, tennis racket and golf equipment, which had to be packed in the front of the car.As a young man of social experience, Mr. Spillikins had practiced asceticism before, and he knew how much clothing such a life required.So the car left the station and drove quickly on the asphalt road without any noise at all. It turned sharp turns one after another—the green branches of the big trees on the side of the road almost swept their faces—the car snaked along the winding mountain road Go, take Spillikins and Philippa out of the low-lying fields, into the charming mountains of private land, and run towards the magical castles of Casteggio and Penigwi-Red. Mr. Spillikins told Philippa at least a dozen times during the first trip that it would be great if she could ride down the hill to meet him.He was so grateful to her for coming to fetch him that she couldn't bear to even hint to him the truth: she hoped it was someone else who was coming by this train.To a girl brought up in high religious discipline, the truth was a sacred thing.She buried it in her heart.Naturally, with such a sympathetic audience, Mr. Spillikins soon began to speak of Dalfimia and his wishes. "I don't know if she really cares about me," Spillikins said, "but I do with good intentions. One day not long ago, maybe two months ago, at the Asia-Brazilian Institute of Oriental Studies At a party at _—you didn't join the Society, did you?" he said, leaving the conversation he had begun. "Only at the beginning," said Philippa, "and then we went up to Bermuda." "Oh, yes, I remember. You know, I think the end is bad enough, especially Rum Spade. I like him as a person. I sent two pounds of flue-cured tobacco to the prison last week. He. You know, if you have access, you can send things in to the people in there." "But what do you want to say?" said Philippa. "Oh, yes," Spillikins said.He realized that he had strayed from the subject of Delphemia in a way that had never happened to him before. "What I'm trying to say is, at a party, you know, I asked her if I could call her Darfimia." "What does she say about that?" asked Philippa. "She said I could call her whatever she wanted, and she didn't care anyway. So I think there's hope, don't you?" "It's very promising," said Philippa. "Shortly after that, I brought her slippers home from the charity ball at the Concourse House. Archie Jones took her home in his car. I guess that's a good omen, doesn't it?" You wouldn't let a gentleman walk around with your slippers, would you, Miss Philippa, unless you were particularly on good terms with that person?" "Oh no, no one," said Philippa.Of course, that is the consistent rule of the Anglican Church. "Not long after that, Dalfemia, Charlie Mostyn, and I were walking to Mrs. Banquohirst's concert together, and we had just reached the street when she stopped suddenly and sent me back. Take her sheet music—call me, mind you, not Charlie. That seems to me to mean a lot." "It seems to mean a lot," said Philippa. "You don't?" said Spillikins. "You don't mind me nagging you about all this, Miss Philippa?" he added. Mr. Spillikins occasionally thought it would be all right to call her Miss Philippa.In fact, as she had a sister who was really called Miss Furlong, Mr. Spillikins realized that it would be inappropriate to call her Miss Philippa by that title.Anyway, sorry for such a beautiful morning. "I don't mind at all," said Philippa, "I think it's very kind of you to tell me that." She didn't add that she already knew all about it. "You see," said Mr. Spillikins, "you're so understanding. It makes it easy to talk to you. With other girls, especially smart ones, you can even It's the same with Delphimia, and I often feel like a fool who can't tell a fart. But I don't feel that at all talking to you." "Really not?" said Philippa, whose sincere admiration in Mr. Spillikins' protruding blue eyes prevented her from answering mockingly. "Dear me!" began Mr. Spillikins shortly afterwards, quite off the subject. "I hope you don't mind my frankness. You look good in that white dress—very pretty." He said. Felt that a man who was engaged, or nearly so, enjoyed the slightest liberty to pay honest compliments. "Oh, this old dress," laughed Philippa, shaking her dress disapprovingly. "But up here in the hills, you know, I don't care what I wear." She didn't say that the old dress was only a fortnight old and cost her eighty dollars, or the equivalent of a man at St. Ashaf's Church. Half a year's bench fee.The next thing Mr. Spillikins thought they had said was only a few words, and he hadn't had time to reflect on what a charming girl Philippa had become since she went to Bermuda - one of those lucky islands, no doubt. The climate dictated it—suddenly they had turned a bend into an avenue of swaying trees, and the great lawns, the wide verandahs, and the greenhouses of the little castle of Casteggio lay before them! The Love Story of Spillikins (3) "Here we are," said Philippa. "Mr. Newberry is over there on the lawn." "Look," said Mr. Newberry after a moment, pointing at the same time, "this is the best vantage point for this part of the country." He was standing in a corner of the lawn, showing Mr. Spillikins the beauty of the little castle of Casteggio.There are many big trees dotted here, and the lawn just slopes towards the small lake from here. Mr. Newberry was a short, chubby man dressed in the summer attire of a man seeking comfort and slovenliness: a pair of plain white flannel trousers, worth no more than six dollars each, and a lapel collar. An ordinary white silk shirt, worth no more than fifteen dollars, and an ordinary Panama hat on the head, worth forty dollars. "My God!" exclaimed Mr. Spillikins, looking around the house and the tree-dotted lawn, "this place is lovely." "Didn't you?" said Mr. Newberry, "you should have seen me when I developed this place. I'd have to blow up a hundred yards of rock just to make that driveway, and then I'd have to Cement came, I don’t know how many tons, and large cobblestones were used to strengthen the roadbed.” "Yes!" said Mr. Spillikins, looking at Mr. Newberry with admiration. "Yeah, but that's nothing compared to building the house. You know, I had to dig at least forty feet of footing. I dug about twenty feet of loose earth at first, and then I dug Sand, but I just dug sand, man, I had to deal with eight feet of groundwater again. I had to pump it out, I think it took a thousand gallons of water to show the rocks underneath. Then I got Forty-foot-long solid steel columns," said Zuberi and began to gesture with his arms, making a gesture of erecting the steel columns, "put them upright, and set them in the rock. Then I Cross the steel beams and put the rafters on them, all steel, each sixty feet long, and then lift the whole frame up, it's not hard to do, just a little bit of support , just let it gradually descend and fall to the designated position." Mr. Newberry gestured with his arms to explain how a huge house was slowly lowered and placed on solid footings. "Couldn't it be!" said Spillikins, marveling at Mr. Newberry and feeling that he must be immensely powerful. "Excuse me," said Mr. Newberry, breaking off abruptly. "I'll have to take a moment to level the messy gravel where you're standing. I think you've messed it up quite a bit." "Oh, I'm so sorry," said Mr. Spillikins. "Oh, nothing, nothing," said the host, "I don't give a damn. It's only for McAlister's sake." "Who" Spillikins said. "My gardener. He doesn't like us walking up and down the gravel road. It's easy to damage the pavement. But sometimes we forget that." It should be noted that, as far as cleanliness is concerned, the main honor of the little castle of Casteggio is due to those servants.It goes without saying that all of them were brought from England.The comfort they brought to Mr. and Mrs. Newberry is indescribable.In fact, as Mr. and Mrs. admit, this type of servant is simply not to be found in America. "Our Scotch gardener is a very nice fellow," Mrs. Newberry always explained. "I don't know how I'm going to find another one like him. You know, my dear, he just wouldn't let us pick Roses, and besides, if any of us walked across the grass, he would fly into a rage. He flatly refused to let us pick greens without permission. He told me very clearly that if we picked his fresh peas or cucumbers, he Just quit. We won't be able to eat them until he's done growing them." “有这样的仆人真叫人高兴”在一旁站着的那位女士轻柔地说，“那么忠诚，与大洋这边的仆人是太一样了。亲爱的，你想象一个我在科罗拉多时雇的司机，他竟对我威胁说他不干了，就因为我想降低他的薪水。我想这都是那些讨厌的劳动联盟干的好事。 “我相信是这样。当然有时候我们和麦克阿里斯特也有麻烦，但只要我们好好跟他说清楚，他总还是通情达理的。比如说，上个礼拜我就很担心我们把他意过头了。他总是习惯了每天上午十点半钟喝一夸脱啤酒——女仆按吩咐把酒拿出去给他喝，喝完之后他要在郁金香花圃旁边的凉亭里睡一觉。几天以前他去那儿的时候，他发现我们的一位不知情的客人正坐在凉亭里读书。当然他暴跳如雷。当时我真担心他当场说他不干了。” “可这和您有何相干呢？” “亲爱的，老实说，我也不知道。但是我们立即向他做了解释，说那仅仅是意外事件，说那个客人根本不知情，还说以后这种事再也不会发生了。听了解释后他平息了一点怒气。但是他离开的时候还在自顾自地咕哝，而且那天傍晚他把所有郁金香全挖了出来并扔到了篱笆的另一边。我们看着他这样做的，但我们什么也不敢说。” “噢，不能说，”另一位女士说，“要是你们说了的话，那你们可就失去他了。” “一点不假。而且我觉得我们再也找不到像他这样的人了，至少在大洋的这一边找不到。” “来吧，”纽贝里先生说，他已用脚把弄乱的石子踩平整，“纽贝里夫人和姑娘们都在游廊那边，我们上她们那儿去吧。” 几分钟以后，史比利金斯先生已在同纽贝里夫人和达尔菲米娅?拉塞里耶一布朗谈话了，他对纽口里夫人说她的房子非常漂亮。他们的旁边站着菲利帕?弗龙小姐，她用一条手臂挽着达尔菲米娅的腰，她们的头靠在一起，达尔菲米娅的头发是金黄色，菲利帕的头发是板栗色，两张脸凑在一起实在是迷人，致使史比利金斯先生根本没有心思去看纽贝里夫人或卡斯特吉奥城堡或其他任何东西了。也正因为如此，他几乎根本就没有注意到谦逊地站在离纽贝里夫人较远处的那个绿衣小姑娘。的确，虽然在介绍的时候有人咕哝过她的名字，但两分钟之后他绝对说不出她的名字来了。他的眼睛和心思都系在别处。 但她可不一样。 因为绿衣小姑娘看史比利金斯先生时眼睛睁得大大的，而且她一看他便立刻从他身上发现了很多以前从没人发现过的妙不可言的东西。 因为从他头部的姿势，她能看出他是多么聪明；从他双手插在两边裤袋里站立的神气，她能看出他一定非常勇敢、富于男子气。当然，他浑身上下无处不流露出坚强和力量。简单点说，当她看他的时候，她所看到的是一个其实根本不存在或不可能存在的彼得?史比利金斯——或者至少可以说，她所看到的彼得?史比利金斯，是在此之前世上的任何其他人都没有设想过的那个样儿。顿时她感到由衷的高兴，庆幸自己接受了纽贝里夫人的邀请并毫不畏惧地来到了卡斯特吉奥小城堡。因为绿衣小姑娘——她的教名叫诺拉——只不过是纽贝里夫人的一个所谓穷亲戚，而她的父亲也只是一个无足轻重的人，不属于陵宫俱乐部或任何别的俱乐部，他带着诺拉住在一条有地位的人谁也不会去住的街上。诺拉几天前收到请她到城外去的邀请，如此盛情旨在让她多呼吸点新鲜空气——这是唯一可以免费送给穷亲戚而无后顾之忧的东西啊。因此诺拉也就带着一个小箱子来了卡斯特吉奥小城堡。箱子是那么小那么简陋，就连搬它上楼的那些仆人都为它感到害臊，箱子里装着一双新牌子的网球鞋（每双的价格由九毛钱降到了七毛五分）和一件被称为“充数晚礼服”的白色外衣，另外还有穷亲戚能战战兢兢带去和富翁一起过简单的田园生活的其他少得可怜的东西。诺拉就那么站在那儿，看着史比利金斯先生出神。而他哩，根本就无视她的存在——人们之间的相互矛盾由此可见一斑矣。 “这幢房子实在太迷人了。”史比利金斯说道。在诸如此类的场合这种话他总是挂在嘴上的，但在绿衣姑娘看来他这话说得自然得体极了。 “承蒙夸奖我非常高兴，”纽贝里夫人说（这也是她老挂在嘴上的话），“您不知道为此花了多少心血。今年我们为东边的温室新安了所有的玻璃，总共超过一千块。真是一项大工程啊！” “刚才我还在向史比利金斯先生介绍我们为炸开汽车道费了多少周折哩。”纽贝里生说，“史比利金斯，我觉得从这儿看那个炸开的豁口更清楚，汽车道就从那中间穿过。为了炸开它我用掉的炸药起码有一吨半。” “天啦！”史比利金斯叹道，“那一定很危险，对吧？我真佩服您的胆量。” “那没什么，习惯了也就没事儿了，”纽贝里先生说着耸了耸双肩，“不过嘛，当然，那是很危险的。最后一次爆破我报销了两个意大利人。”他停顿了一下，若有所思地补充道，“那两个意大利佬，都是能吃苦的伙计。在炸石开山方面，我对他们俩比对谁都满意。” “是您炸死他们的吗？”史比利金斯先生问道。 “我当时不在场，”纽贝里先生回答说，“老实说，爆破的时候我从不呆在这儿，用不着我费这个心。我们回城里去了。但尽管我不在场，他们的丧葬费之类还得由我出。 出就出吧，也没什么。风险当然是我担，不是他们，法律有规定，你是知道的。他们俩每人花掉了我两千块钱。 " “噢，对了，”纽贝里夫人说，“我想我们得去换换衣服，准备吃饭了。要是去晚了，弗兰克林会大发其火的。”她见史比利金斯不明白指的是谁，便继续说，“弗兰克林是我们的管家，由于他是我们从英国远道请来的，我们必须十分小心地待他才是。像弗兰克林那么好的一个人，你总是很担心会失去他——尤其是在发生了昨晚的事之后，我们更应该倍加小心。” “昨晚什么事？”史比利金斯先生问道。 “噢，也没什么的，”纽贝里夫人说，“其实嘛，那只是一个小小的意外。昨天晚上吃晚饭，已吃了好一阵子，我们几乎什么都吃过了（我们在这里吃得很简单，史比利金斯先生），恰巧纽贝里先生渴了，要弗兰克林给他上一杯德国白葡萄酒——他心里想的其实不是这么回事儿。结果弗兰克林马上就说：“很对不起，先生，上完主菜后还要上白葡萄酒，我可没这个义务！ " “当然他是对的。”达尔菲米娅加重语气说。 “一点儿没错，他做得完全正确。她们明白这点，您也明白。当时我们担心会有麻烦了，不过后来纽贝里先生找了弗兰克林，很成功地化解了此事。我们现在就去换衣服怎么样？这会儿已六点半钟了，我们只有一个小时做准备。” 接下来的三天史比利金斯先生是和这群友善的人一起度过的。 正如组贝里夫妇热衷于解释的那样，卡斯特吉奥小城堡的生活是按最简单的计划安排的。早餐随乡下风俗，安排在九点钟，然后在午饭前没啥吃的，除非你乐意来上一瓶送到网球场的柠檬汁或麦酒，外加一块饼干或杏仁甜饼。午餐非常简单，要吃到一点半钟，只有冷肉（大概有四种吧）和色拉，也许还有一两碟特别准备的食物，另外还为有兴趣的人准备了一块热牛排或排骨，或者两者都有。午餐之后，你可以在游廊的阴凉处喝咖啡和抽烟，同时等着喝下午茶。下午茶是在一张柳条桌上喝的，它可以摆在草坪上任何一个地方——只要当时园丁没在那儿修剪、装饰什么或没把那块地方派作其他用场。下午茶喝完之后，你可以休息一下或在草坪上散散步，一直到更衣吃晚饭的时间来到。这种简单的生活程式，只有在有人从佩尼格威一瑞德别墅或尤德尔一部德尔别墅开车或驾汽艇突然闯来时才被打破。 所有这一切，在史比利金斯或达尔菲米娅或菲利帕看来，不折不扣地代表了简朴的田园生活。可在绿衣小姑娘看来，它的奢华已足以和凡尔赛宫媲美，尤其是晚餐——尽管别的人认为不过是家常便餐——她光喝的东西就有四杯之多，每次弗兰克林为大家倒葡萄酒，她都在心里反复琢磨，不知是叫他不要再倒了好，还是一直等到他自动歇手好。另外还有不少类似的问题令她百思不解，正如它们以前和以后同样令很多人伤透脑筋一样。自从到达以来，史比利金斯先生一直都在为自己鼓劲，以便有勇气向达尔菲米娅?拉塞里耶一布朗求婚。事实上，他还花了点时间和菲利帕?弗龙一起在树下散步，一起谈论他决意实施的求婚计划，同时还谈了谈其他的话题，如对婚姻的总体看法呀，他自己可能配不上她呀，等等。 要不是在第三天他听说达尔菲米娅第二天清早要走，要去纳戛哈凯特和她父亲会合，他或许会永远犹豫不决地等待下去。 那天晚上他终于鼓足了必要的勇气，他的求婚几乎从哪个方面看都是非常成功的。 “天啦！”在第二天早上解释头天晚上发生的事时，史比利金斯对菲利帕说，“她待我真是太好了。我想她一定猜出了我要说的意思，多少猜出了一点，你觉得呢？无论怎么说她对我是太好了——我想说什么，她就让我说出来什么，当我说我这个人很笨时，她说她认为我根本不像别人想象的那么笨，一半都不到。而这就够了。看来她目前还没有考虑结婚之类的事。我问她我是否可以永远继续想念她，她说我可以这样。” 那天早上，当达尔菲米娅乘那辆汽车去火车站的时候，史比利金斯先生不知怎的又恋上了菲利帕，连他自己都没弄清到底是怎么回事儿，他就已经移情别恋了。