A few days later Mrs. Carey went to the station to see Philip off. She stood at the door of the carriage, trying to keep back her tears. Philip was restless and eager. He wanted to be gone.
He leaned out of the window and kissed her. The train started, and she stood on the wooden platform of the little station, waving her handkerchief till it was out of sight. Her heart was dreadfully heavy, and the few hundred yards to the vicarage seemed very, very long. It was natural enough that he should be eager to go, she thought, he was a boy and the future beckoned to him; but she—she clenched her teeth so that she should not cry. She uttered a little inward prayer that God would guard him, and keep him out of temptation, and give him happiness and good fortune.
But Philip ceased to think of her a moment after he had settled down in his carriage. He thought only of the future. He had written to Mrs. Otter , the massiere to whom Hayward had given him an introduction, and had in his pocket an invitation to tea on the following day. When he arrived in Paris he had his luggage put on a cab and trundled off slowly through the gay streets, over the bridge, and along the narrow ways of the Latin Quarter. He had taken a room at the Hotel des Deux Ecoles, which was in a shabby street off the Boulevard du Montparnasse; it was convenient for Amitrano’s School at which he was going to work.
A waiter took his box up five flights of stairs, and Philip was shown into a tiny room, fusty from unopened windows, the greater part of which was taken up by a large wooden bed with a canopy over it of red rep; there were heavy curtains on the windows of the same dingy material; the chest of drawers served also as a washing-stand; and there was a massive wardrobe of the style which is connected with the good King Louis Philippe. The wall-paper was discoloured with age; it was dark gray, and there could be vaguely seen on it garlands of brown leaves. To Philip the room seemed quaint and charming.
Though it was late he felt too excited to sleep and, going out, made his way into the boulevard and walked towards the light. This led him to the station; and the square in front of it, vivid with arc-lamps, noisy with the yellow trams that seemed to cross it in all directions, made him laugh aloud with joy. There were cafes all round, and by chance, thirsty and eager to get a nearer sight of the crowd, Philip installed himself at a little table outside the Cafe de Versailles.
Every other table was taken, for it was a fine night; and Philip looked curiously at the people, here little family groups, there a knot of men with odd-shaped hats and beards talking loudly and gesticulating; next to him were two men who looked like painters with women who Philip hoped were not their lawful wives; behind him he heard Americans loudly arguing on art. His soul was thrilled. He sat till very late, tired out but too happy to move, and when at last he went to bed he was wide awake; he listened to the manifold noise of Paris.
Next day about tea-time he made his way to the Lion de Belfort, and in a new street that led out of the Boulevard Raspail found Mrs. Otter. She was an insignificant woman of thirty, with a provincial air and a deliberately lady-like manner; she introduced him to her mother. He discovered presently that she had been studying in Paris for three years and later that she was separated from her husband. She had in her small drawing-room one or two portraits which she had painted, and to Philip’s inexperience they seemed extremely accomplished .
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"不知可有那么一天,我也能画出同样出色的画来,"他感叹地说。
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‘I wonder if I shall ever be able to paint as well as that,’ he said to her.
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"哦,我看你准行,"她不无得意地应道。"当然罗,一锹挖不出个井来,得一步步来嘛。"
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‘Oh, I expect so,’ she replied, not without self-satisfaction. ‘You can’t expect to do everything all at once, of course.’
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她想得很周到,特地给了他一家商店的地址,说从那儿可以买到画夹、图画纸和炭笔等用品。
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She was very kind. She gave him the address of a shop where he could get a portfolio , drawing-paper, and charcoal .
‘I’m so glad to hear you say that. People always want to do things in such a hurry. I never touched oils till I’d been here for two years, and look at the result.’
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奥特太太朝排在钢琴上方的一幅黏糊糊的油画瞟了一眼,那是幅她母亲的肖像。
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She gave a glance at the portrait of her mother, a sticky piece of painting that hung over the piano.
‘We live just as we would if we were in England,’ said Mrs. Otter’s mother, who till then had spoken little. ‘When we came here we brought all our own furniture over.’
Philip looked round the room. It was filled with a massive suite , and at the window were the same sort of white lace curtains which Aunt Louisa put up at the vicarage in summer. The piano was draped in Liberty silk and so was the chimney-piece. Mrs. Otter followed his wandering eye.
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"晚上一把百叶窗关上,就真像回到了英国老家似的。"
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‘In the evening when we close the shutters one might really feel one was in England.’
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"我们一日三餐仍然按老家的规矩,"她母亲补充说,"早餐有肉食,正餐放在中午。"
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‘And we have our meals just as if we were at home,’ added her mother. ‘A meat breakfast in the morning and dinner in the middle of the day.’
When he left Mrs. Otter Philip went to buy drawing materials; and next morning at the stroke of nine, trying to seem self-assured, he presented himself at the school. Mrs. Otter was already there, and she came forward with a friendly smile. He had been anxious about the reception he would have as a nouveau, for he had read a good deal of the rough joking to which a newcomer was exposed at some of the studios; but Mrs. Otter had reassured him.
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"哦,这里可不兴那一套,"她说。"你瞧,我们同学中差不多有一半是女的,这儿是女士们当道呢。"
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‘Oh, there’s nothing like that here,’ she said. ‘You see, about half our students are ladies, and they set a tone to the place.’
The studio was large and bare, with gray walls, on which were pinned the studies that had received prizes. A model was sitting in a chair with a loose wrap thrown over her, and about a dozen men and women were standing about, some talking and others still working on their sketch . It was the first rest of the model.
‘Mr. Carey—Miss Price. Mr. Carey’s never studied before, you won’t mind helping him a little just at first will you?’ Then she turned to the model. ‘La Pose.’
The model threw aside the paper she had been reading, La Petite Republique, and sulkily, throwing off her gown, got on to the stand. She stood, squarely on both feet with her hands clasped behind her head.
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"这姿势够别扭的,"普赖斯小姐说,"真不明白他们怎么偏偏选中这么个怪姿势。"
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‘It’s a stupid pose,’ said Miss Price. ‘I can’t imagine why they chose it.’
When Philip entered, the people in the studio had looked at him curiously, and the model gave him an indifferent glance, but now they ceased to pay attention to him. Philip, with his beautiful sheet of paper in front of him, stared awkwardly at the model. He did not know how to begin. He had never seen a naked woman before. She was not young and her breasts were shrivelled. She had colourless, fair hair that fell over her forehead untidily, and her face was covered with large freckles . He glanced at Miss Price’s work. She had only been working on it two days, and it looked as though she had had trouble; her paper was in a mess from constant rubbing out, and to Philip’s eyes the figure looked strangely distorted.
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"我早该想到,自己画起来不至于比这更糟吧,"他暗暗对自己说。
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‘I should have thought I could do as well as that,’ he said to himself.
He began on the head, thinking that he would work slowly downwards , but, he could not understand why, he found it infinitely more difficult to draw a head from the model than to draw one from his imagination. He got into difficulties. He glanced at Miss Price. She was working with vehement gravity. Her brow was wrinkled with eagerness, and there was an anxious look in her eyes.
It was hot in the studio, and drops of sweat stood on her forehead. She was a girl of twenty-six, with a great deal of dull gold hair; it was handsome hair, but it was carelessly done, dragged back from her forehead and tied in a hurried knot. She had a large face, with broad, flat features and small eyes; her skin was pasty, with a singular unhealthiness of tone, and there was no colour in the cheeks. She had an unwashed air and you could not help wondering if she slept in her clothes. She was serious and silent. When the next pause came, she stepped back to look at her work.
She showed him rapidly how to set about the business. Philip was impressed by her earnestness, but repelled by her want of charm. He was grateful for the hints she gave him and set to work again. Meanwhile other people had come in, mostly men, for the women always arrived first, and the studio for the time of year (it was early yet) was fairly full. Presently there came in a young man with thin, black hair, an enormous nose, and a face so long that it reminded you of a horse. He sat down next to Philip and nodded across him to Miss Price.
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"你怎么这时候才来,"她说,"是不是刚起床?"
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‘You’re very late,’ she said. ‘Are you only just up?’
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"今天是这么个风和日丽的好日子,我想,我得躺在床上,好好想象一下户外的景色有多美。"
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菲利普会意一笑。普赖斯小姐却挺顶真,不把这话当玩笑看待。
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"这种做法真有点好笑。照我的想法,及早起床,趁天气大好出外逛逛,这才更加在理呢。"
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"看来要想当个幽默家还真不容易呢,"那个年轻人一本正经地说。
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‘The way of the humorist is very hard,’ said the young man gravely.
He did not seem inclined to work. He looked at his canvas; he was working in colour, and had sketched in the day before the model who was posing. He turned to Philip.