part 6-第25章
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
movement was the right movement； that her body was
absolutely the instrument of her idea。 Not for nothing
had she kept it so severely； kept it filled with such energy
and fire。 All that deep…rooted vitality flowered in her
voice； her face； in her very finger…tips。 She felt like a tree
bursting into bloom。 And her voice was as flexible as her
body； equal to any demand； capable of every NUANCE。
With the sense of its perfect companionship； its entire
trustworthiness； she had been able to throw herself into
the dramatic exigencies of the part； everything in her at
its best and everything working together。
The third act came on； and the afternoon slipped by。
Thea Kronborg's friends； old and new； seated about the
house on different floors and levels； enjoyed her triumph
according to their natures。 There was one there； whom
nobody knew； who perhaps got greater pleasure out of
that afternoon than Harsanyi himself。 Up in the top gal…
lery a gray…haired little Mexican； withered and bright as
a string of peppers beside a'dobe door； kept praying and
cursing under his breath； beating on the brass railing
and shouting 〃Bravo！ Bravo！〃 until he was repressed by
his neighbors。
He happened to be there because a Mexican band was
to be a feature of Barnum and Bailey's circus that year。
One of the managers of the show had traveled about the
Southwest； signing up a lot of Mexican musicians at low
wages； and had brought them to New York。 Among them
was Spanish Johnny。 After Mrs。 Tellamantez died； Johnny
abandoned his trade and went out with his mandolin to
pick up a living for one。 His irregularities had become
his regular mode of life。
When Thea Kronborg came out of the stage entrance
on Fortieth Street； the sky was still flaming with the last
rays of the sun that was sinking off behind the North
River。 A little crowd of people was lingering about the
doormusicians from the orchestra who were waiting
for their comrades； curious young men； and some poorly
dressed girls who were hoping to get a glimpse of the
singer。 She bowed graciously to the group； through her
veil； but she did not look to the right or left as she crossed
the sidewalk to her cab。 Had she lifted her eyes an instant
and glanced out through her white scarf； she must have
seen the only man in the crowd who had removed his hat
when she emerged； and who stood with it crushed up in
his hand。 And she would have known him； changed as he
was。 His lustrous black hair was full of gray； and his face
was a good deal worn by the EXTASI； so that it seemed to
have shrunk away from his shining eyes and teeth and left
them too prominent。 But she would have known him。
She passed so near that he could have touched her； and he
did not put on his hat until her taxi had snorted away。
Then he walked down Broadway with his hands in his
overcoat pockets； wearing a smile which embraced all the
stream of life that passed him and the lighted towers that
rose into the limpid blue of the evening sky。 If the singer；
going home exhausted in her cab； was wondering what
was the good of it all； that smile； could she have seen it；
would have answered her。 It is the only commensurate
answer。
Here we must leave Thea Kronborg。 From this time
on the story of her life is the story of her achievement。
The growth of an artist is an intellectual and spiritual
development which can scarcely be followed in a personal
narrative。 This story attempts to deal only with the sim…
ple and concrete beginnings which color and accent an
artist's work； and to give some account of how a Moon…
stone girl found her way out of a vague； easy…going world
into a life of disciplined endeavor。 Any account of the
loyalty of young hearts to some exalted ideal； and the
passion with which they strive； will always； in some of
us； rekindle generous emotions。
End of Part VI
