the garden party(园会)-第38章
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sure it would be repeated。 It was； she lifted her head and smiled。
Only two people shared her 〃special〃 seat： a fine old man in a velvet
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coat； his hands clasped over a huge carved walking…stick； and a big old
woman； sitting upright； with a roll of knitting on her embroidered apron。
They did not speak。 This was disappointing； for Miss Brill always
looked forward to the conversation。 She had become really quite expert；
she thought； at listening as though she didn't listen； at sitting in other
people's lives just for a minute while they talked round her。
She glanced； sideways； at the old couple。 Perhaps they would go
soon。 Last Sunday； too； hadn't been as interesting as usual。 An
Englishman and his wife； he wearing a dreadful Panama hat and she
button boots。 And she'd gone on the whole time about how she ought to
wear spectacles； she knew she needed them； but that it was no good
getting any； they'd be sure to break and they'd never keep on。 And he'd
been so patient。 He'd suggested everythinggold rims； the kind that
curved round your ears； little pads inside the bridge。 No； nothing would
please her。 〃They'll always be sliding down my nose！〃 Miss Brill had
wanted to shake her。
The old people sat on the bench； still as statues。 Never mind； there
was always the crowd to watch。 To and fro； in front of the flower…beds
and the band rotunda； the couples and groups paraded； stopped to talk； to
greet； to buy a handful of flowers from the old beggar who had his tray
fixed to the railings。 Little children ran among them； swooping and
laughing； little boys with big white silk bows under their chins； little girls；
little French dolls； dressed up in velvet and lace。 And sometimes a tiny
staggerer came suddenly rocking into the open from under the trees；
stopped； stared； as suddenly sat down 〃flop；〃 until its small high…stepping
mother； like a young hen； rushed scolding to its rescue。 Other people sat
on the benches and green chairs； but they were nearly always the same；
Sunday after Sunday； andMiss Brill had often noticedthere was
something funny about nearly all of them。 They were odd； silent； nearly
all old； and from the way they stared they looked as though they'd just
come from dark little rooms or eveneven cupboards！
Behind the rotunda the slender trees with yellow leaves down
drooping； and through them just a line of sea； and beyond the blue sky
with gold…veined clouds。
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Tum…tum…tum tiddle…um！ tiddle…um！ tum tiddley…um tum ta！ blew the
band。
Two young girls in red came by and two young soldiers in blue met
them； and they laughed and paired and went off arm…in…arm。 Two
peasant women with funny straw hats passed； gravely； leading beautiful
smoke…coloured donkeys。 A cold； pale nun hurried by。 A beautiful
woman came along and dropped her bunch of violets； and a little boy ran
after to hand them to her； and she took them and threw them away as if
they'd been poisoned。 Dear me！ Miss Brill didn't know whether to
admire that or not！ And now an ermine toque and a gentleman in grey
met just in front of her。 He was tall； stiff； dignified； and she was wearing
the ermine toque she'd bought when her hair was yellow。 Now
everything； her hair； her face； even her eyes； was the same colour as the
shabby ermine； and her hand； in its cleaned glove； lifted to dab her lips；
was a tiny yellowish paw。 Oh； she was so pleased to see himdelighted！
She rather thought they were going to meet that afternoon。 She described
where she'd beeneverywhere； here； there； along by the sea。 The day
was so charmingdidn't he agree？ And wouldn't he； perhaps？。。。But he
shook his head； lighted a cigarette； slowly breathed a great deep puff into
her face； and even while she was still talking and laughing； flicked the
match away and walked on。 The ermine toque was alone； she smiled
more brightly than ever。 But even the band seemed to know what she
was feeling and played more softly； played tenderly； and the drum beat；
〃The Brute！ The Brute！〃 over and over。 What would she do？ What
was going to happen now？ But as Miss Brill wondered； the ermine toque
turned； raised her hand as though she'd seen some one else； much nicer；
just over there； and pattered away。 And the band changed again and
played more quickly； more gayly than ever； and the old couple on Miss
Brill's seat got up and marched away； and such a funny old man with long
whiskers hobbled along in time to the music and was nearly knocked over
by four girls walking abreast。
Oh； how fascinating it was！ How she enjoyed it！ How she loved
sitting here； watching it all！ It was like a play。 It was exactly like a
play。 Who could believe the sky at the back wasn't painted？ But it
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wasn't till a little brown dog trotted on solemn and then slowly trotted off；
like a little 〃theatre〃 dog； a little dog that had been drugged； that Miss Brill
discovered what it was that made it so exciting。 They were all on the
stage。 They weren't only the audience； not only looking on； they were
acting。 Even she had a part and came every Sunday。 No doubt
somebody would have noticed if she hadn't been there； she was part of the
performance after all。 How strange she'd never thought of it like that
before！ And yet it explained why she made such a point of starting from
home at just the same time each weekso as not to be late for the
performanceand it also explained why she had quite a queer； shy feeling
at telling her English pupils how she spent her Sunday afternoons。 No
wonder！ Miss Brill nearly laughed out loud。 She was on the stage。
She thought of the old invalid gentleman to whom she read the newspaper
four afternoons a week while he slept in the garden。 She had got quite
used to the frail head on the cotton pillow； the hollowed eyes； the open
mouth and the high pinched nose。 If he'd been dead she mightn't have
noticed for weeks； she wouldn't have minded。 But suddenly he knew he
was having the paper read to him by an actress！ 〃An actress！〃 The old
head lifted； two points of light quivered in the old eyes。 〃An actressare
ye？〃 And Miss Brill smoothed the newspaper as though it were the
manu
