stories by english authors in italy(旅意英国作家的故事)-第23节
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since become aware that nothing can be more decorous than old Mrs。
Upton； the excellent head nurse at Hardover Lodge； and no gentleman
more discreet in his conduct than General Talboys。
And I may as well here declare also that there could be no more
virtuous woman than the general's wife。 Her marriage vow was to her
paramount to all other vows and bonds whatever。 The general's honour
was quite safe when he sent her off to Rome by herself； and he no doubt
knew that it was so。 /Illi robur et oes triplex/； of which I believe no
weapons of any assailant could get the better。 But nevertheless we used to
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fancy that she had no repugnance to impropriety in other womento what
the world generally calls impropriety。 Invincibly attached herself to the
marriage tie； she would constantly speak of it as by no means necessarily
binding on others； and virtuous herself as any griffin of propriety； she
constantly patronised； at any rate； the theory of infidelity in her neighbours。
She was very eager in denouncing the prejudices of the English world；
declaring that she found existence among them to be no longer possible
for herself。 She was hot against the stern unforgiveness of British matrons；
and equally eager in reprobating the stiff conventionalities of a religion in
which she said that none of its votaries had faith； though they all allowed
themselves to be enslaved。
We had at that time a small set at Rome consisting chiefly of English
and Americans； who habitually met at one another's rooms； and spent
many of our evening hours in discussing Italian politics。 We were； most of
us； painters； poets； novelists； or sculptorsperhaps I should say would…be
painters； poets； novelists； and sculptors； aspirants hoping to become some
day recognised； and among us Mrs。 Talboys took her place naturally
enough on account of a very pretty taste she had for painting。 I do not
know that she ever originated anything that was grand； but she made some
nice copies and was fond； at any rate； of art conversation。 She wrote
essays too； which she showed in confidence to various gentlemen； and had
some idea of taking lessons in modelling。
In all our circle Conrad Mackinnon； an American； was perhaps the
person most qualified to be styled its leader。 He was one who absolutely
did gain his living； and an ample living too； by his pen； and was regarded
on all sides as a literary lion； justified by success in roaring at any tone he
might please。 His usual roar was not exactly that of a sucking dove or a
nightingale； but it was a good…humoured roar； not very offensive to any
man and apparently acceptable enough to some ladies。 He was a big； burly
man； near to fifty； as I suppose； somewhat awkward in his gait； and
somewhat loud in his laugh。 But though nigh to fifty； and thus ungainly； he
liked to be smiled on by pretty women； and liked； as some said； to be
flattered by them also。 If so he should have been happy； for the ladies at
Rome at that time made much of Conrad Mackinnon。
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Of Mrs。 Mackinnon no one did make very much； and yet she was one
of the sweetest； dearest； quietest little creatures that ever made glad a
man's fireside。 She was exquisitely pretty； always in good humour； never
stupid； self…denying to a fault； and yet she was generally in the background。
She would seldom come forward of her own will； but was contented to sit
behind her teapot and hear Mackinnon do his roaring。 He was certainly
much given to what the world at Rome called flirting； but this did not in
the least annoy her。 She was twenty years his junior； and yet she never
flirted with any one。 Women would tell her good…natured friendshow
Mackinnon went on； but she received such tidings as an excellent joke；
observing that he had always done the same； and no doubt always would
until he was ninety。 I do believe that she was a happy woman； and yet I
used to think that she should have been happier。 There is； however； no
knowing the inside of another man's house or reading the riddles of
another man's joy and sorrow。
We had also there another lion；a lion cub；entitled to roar a little；
and of him also I must say something。 Charles O'Brien was a young man
about twenty…five years of age； who had sent out from his studio in the
preceding year a certain bust supposed by his admirers to be unsurpassed
by any effort of ancient or modern genius。 I am no judge of sculpture； and
will not therefore pronounce an opinion； but many who considered
themselves to be judges declared that it was a 〃goodish head and
shoulders〃 and nothing more。 I merely mention the fact； as it was on the
strength of that head and shoulders that O'Brien separated himself from a
throng of others such as himself in Rome； walked solitary during the days；
and threw himself at the feet of various ladies when the days were over。
He had ridden on the shoulders of his bust into a prominent place in our
circle； and there encountered much feminine admirationfrom Mrs。
General Talboys and others。
Some eighteen or twenty of us used to meet every Sunday evening in
Mrs。 Mackinnon's drawing…room。 Many of us； indeed； were in the habit of
seeing one another daily and of visiting together the haunts in Rome which
are best loved by art…loving strangers； but here in this drawing…room we
were sure to come together； and here before the end of November Mrs。
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Talboys might always be found； not in any accustomed seat； but moving
about the room as the different male mental attractions of our society
might chance to move themselves。 She was at first greatly taken by
Mackinnon； who also was； I think； a little stirred by her admiration；
though he stoutly denied the charge。 She became； however； very dear to us
all before she left us； and certainly we owed to her our love； for she added
infinitely to the joys of our winter。
〃I have come here to refresh myself；〃 she said to Mackinnon one
eveningto Mackinnon and myself； for we were standing together。
〃Shall I get you tea？〃 said I。
〃And will you have something to eat？〃 Mackinnon asked。
〃No； no； no；〃 she answered。 〃Tea； yes； but for heaven's sake let
nothing solid dispel the associations of such a meeting as this！〃
〃I thought you might have dined early；〃 said Mackinnon。 Now
Mackinnon was a man whose own dinner was very dear to him。 I have
seen him become hasty and unpleasant； even under the pillars of the
Forum； when he thought that the party were placing his fish in jeopardy by
their desire to linger there too long。
〃Early！ Yesno； I know not when it was。 One dines and sleeps in
obedience to that dull clay which weighs down so generally the particle of
our spirit； but the clay may sometimes be forgotten； here I can always
forget it。〃
〃I thought you asked for refreshment；〃 I said。 She only looked at me；
whose small attempts at prose composition had up to that time been
altogether unsuccessful； and then addressed herself to reply to Mackinnon。
〃It is the air which we breathe that fills our lungs and gives us life and
light； it is that which refreshes us if pure or sinks us into stagnation if it be
foul。 Let me for a while inhale the breath of an invigorating literature。 Sit
down； Mr。 Mackinnon； I have a question that I must put to you。〃 And then
she succeeded in carrying him off into a corner。 As far as I could see he
went willingly enough at that time； though he soon became averse to any
long retirement in company with Mrs。 Talboys。
We none of us quite understood what w
