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英语天堂-第46部分
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“And now;” said Marie; “I believe I’ve told you everything; so that; when my next sick turn comes on; you’ll be able to go forward entirely; without consulting me;—only about Eva;—she requires watching。”
“She seems to be a good child; very;” said Miss Ophelia; “I never saw a better child。”
“Eva’s peculiar;” said her mother; “very。 There are things about her so singular; she isn’t like me; now; a particle;” and Marie sighed; as if this was a truly melancholy consideration。
Miss Ophelia in her own heart said; “I hope she isn’t;” but had prudence enough to keep it down。
“Eva always was disposed to be with servants; and I think that well enough with some children。 Now; I always played with father’s little negroes—it never did me any harm。 But Eva somehow always seems to put herself on an equality with every creature that comes near her。 It’s a strange thing about the child。 I never have been able to break her of it。 St。 Clare; I believe; encourages her in it。 The fact is; St。 Clare indulges every creature under this roof but his own wife。”
Again Miss Ophelia sat in blank silence。
“Now; there’s no way with servants;” said Marie; “but to put them down; and keep them down。 It was always natural to me; from a child。 Eva is enough to spoil a whole house…full。 What she will do when she comes to keep house herself; I’m sure I don’t know。 I hold to being kind to servants—I always am; but you must make ’em know their place。 Eva never does; there’s no getting into the child’s head the first beginning of an idea what a servant’s place is! You heard her offering to take care of me nights; to let Mammy sleep! That’s just a specimen of the way the child would be doing all the time; if she was left to herself。”
“Why;” said Miss Ophelia; bluntly; “I suppose you think your servants are human creatures; and ought to have some rest when they are tired。”
“Certainly; of course。 I’m very particular in letting them have everything that comes convenient;—anything that doesn’t put one at all out of the way; you know。 Mammy can make up her sleep; some time or other; there’s no difficulty about that。 She’s the sleepiest concern that ever I saw; sewing; standing; or sitting; that creature will go to sleep; and sleep anywhere and everywhere。 No danger but Mammy gets sleep enough。 But this treating servants as if they were exotic flowers; or china vases; is really ridiculous;” said Marie; as she plunged languidly into the depths of a voluminous and pillowy lounge; and drew towards her an elegant cut…glass vinaigrette。
“You see;” she continued; in a faint and lady…like voice; like the last dying breath of an Arabian jessamine; or something equally ethereal; “you see; Cousin Ophelia; I don’t often speak of myself。 It isn’t my habit; ’t isn’t agreeable to me。 In fact; I haven’t strength to do it。 But there are points where St。 Clare and I differ。 St。 Clare never understood me; never appreciated me。 I think it lies at the root of all my ill health。 St。 Clare means well; I am bound to believe; but men are constitutionally selfish and inconsiderate to woman。 That; at least; is my impression。”
Miss Ophelia; who had not a small share of the genuine New England caution; and a very particular horror of being drawn into family difficulties; now began to foresee something of this kind impending; so; composing her face into a grim neutrality; and drawing out of her pocket about a yard and a quarter of stocking; which she kept as a specific against what Dr。 Watts asserts to be a personal habit of Satan when people have idle hands; she proceeded to knit most energetically; shutting her lips together in a way that said; as plain as words could; “You needn’t try to make me speak。 I don’t want anything to do with your affairs;”—in fact; she looked about as sympathizing as a stone lion。 But Marie didn’t care for that。 She had got somebody to talk to; and she felt it her duty to talk; and that was enough; and reinforcing herself by smelling again at her vinaigrette; she went on。
“You see; I brought my own property and servants into the connection; when I married St。 Clare; and I am legally entitled to manage them my own way。 St。 Clare had his fortune and his servants; and I’m well enough content he should manage them his way; but St。 Clare will be interfering。 He has wild; extravagant notions about things; particularly about the treatment of servants。 He really does act as if he set his servants before me; and before himself; too; for he lets them make him all sorts of trouble; and never lifts a finger。 Now; about some things; St。 Clare is really frightful—he frightens me—good…natured as he looks; in general。 Now; he has set down his foot that; come what will; there shall not be a blow struck in this house; except what he or I strike; and he does it in a way that I really dare not cross him。 Well; you may see what that leads to; for St。 Clare wouldn’t raise his hand; if every one of them walked over him; and I—you see how cruel it would be to require me to make the exertion。 Now; you know these servants are nothing but grown…up children。”
“I don’t know anything about it; and I thank the Lord that I don’t!” said Miss Ophelia; shortly。
“Well; but you will have to know something; and know it to your cost; if you stay here。 You don’t know what a provoking; stupid; careless; unreasonable; childish; ungrateful set of wretches they are。”
Marie seemed wonderfully supported; always; when she got upon this topic; and she now opened her eyes; and seemed quite to forget her languor。
“You don’t know; and you can’t; the daily; hourly trials that beset a housekeeper from them; everywhere and every way。 But it’s no use to complain to St。 Clare。 He talks the strangest stuff。 He says we have made them what they are; and ought to bear with them。 He says their faults are all owing to us; and that it would be cruel to make the fault and punish it too。 He says we shouldn’t do any better; in their place; just as if one could reason from them to us; you know。”
“Don’t you believe that the Lord made them of one blood with us?” said Miss Ophelia; shortly。
“No; indeed not I! A pretty story; truly! They are a degraded race。”
“Don’t you think they’ve got immortal souls?” said Miss Ophelia; with increasing indignation。
“O; well;” said Marie; yawning; “that; of course—nobody doubts that。 But as to putting them on any sort of equality with us; you know; as if we could be compared; why; it’s impossible! Now; St。 Clare really has talked to me as if keeping Mammy from her husband was like keeping me from mine。 There’s no comparing in this way。 Mammy couldn’t have the feelings that I should。 It’s a different thing altogether;—of course; it is;—and yet St。 Clare pretends not to see it。 And just as if Mammy could love her little dirty babies as I love Eva! Yet St。 Clare once really and soberly tried to persuade me that it was my duty; with my weak health; and all I suffer; to let Mammy go back; and take somebody else in her place。 That was a little too much even for me to bear。 I don’t often show my feelings; I make it a principle to endure everything in silence; it’s a wife’s hard lot; and I bear it。 But I did break out; that time; so that he has never alluded to the subject since。 But I know by his looks; and little things that he says; that he thinks so as much as ever; and it’s so trying; so provoking!”
Miss Ophelia looked very much as if she was afraid she should say something; but she rattled away with her needles in a way that had volumes of meaning in it; if Marie could only have understood it。
“So; you just see;” she continued; “what you’ve got to manage。 A household without any rule; where servants have it all their own way; do what they please; and have what they please; except so far as I; with my feeble health; have kept up government。 I keep my cowhide about; and sometimes I do lay it on; but the exertion is always too much for me。 If St。 Clare would only have this thing done as others do—”
“And how’s that?”
“Why; send them to the calaboose; or some of the other places to be flogged。 That’s the only way。 If I wasn’t such a poor; feeble piece; I believe I should manage with twice the energy that St。 Clare does。”
“And how does St。 Clare contrive to manage?” said Miss Ophelia。 “You say he never strikes a blow。”
“Well; men have a more commanding way; you know; it is easier for them; besides; if you ever looked full in his eye; it’s peculiar;—that eye;—and if he speaks decidedly; there’s a kind of flash。 I’m afraid of it; myself; and the servants know they must mind。 I couldn’t do as much by a regular storm and scolding as St。 Clare can by one turn of his eye; if once he is in earnest。 O; there’s no trouble about St。 Clare; that’s the reason he’s no more feeling for me。 But you’ll find; when you come to manage; that there’s no getting along without severity;—they are so bad; so deceitful; so lazy”。
“The old tune;” said St。 Clare; sauntering in。 “What an awful acomount these wicked creatures will have to settle; at last; especially for being lazy! You see; cousin;” said he; as he stretched himself at full length on a lounge opposite to Marie; “it’s wholly inexcusable in them; in the light of the example that Marie and I set them;—this laziness。”
“Come; now; St。 Clare; you are too bad!” said Marie。
“Am I; now? Why; I thought I was talking good; quite remarkably for me。 I try to enforce your remarks; Marie; always。”
“You know you meant no such thing; St。 Clare;” said Marie。
“O; I must have been mistaken; then。 Thank you; my dear; for setting me right。”
“You do really try to be provoking;” said Marie。
“O; come; Marie; the day is growing warm; and I have just had a long quarrel with Dolph; which has fatigued me excessively; so; pray be agreeable; now; and let a fellow repose in the light of your smile。”
“What’s the matter about Dolph?” said Marie。 “That fellow’s impudence has been growing to a point that is perfectly intolerable to me。 I only wish I had the undisputed management of him a while。 I’d bring him down!”
“What you say; my dear; is marked with your usual acuteness and good sense;” said St。 Clare。 “As to Dolph; the case is this: that he has so long been engaged in imitating my graces and perfections; that he has; at last; really mistaken himself for his master; and I have been obliged to give him a little insight into his mistake。”
“How?” said Marie。
“Why; I was obliged to let him understand explicitly that I preferred to keep some of my clothes for my own personal wearing; also; I put his magnificence upon an allowance of cologne…water; and actually was so cruel as to restrict him to one dozen of my cambric handkerchiefs。 Dolph was particularly huffy about it; and I had to talk to him like a father; to bring him round。”
“O! St。 Clare; when will you learn how to treat your servants? It’s abominable; the way you indulge them!” said Marie。
“Why; after all; what’s the harm of the poor dog’s wanting to be like his master; and if I haven’t brought him up any better than to find his chief good in cologne and cambric handkerchiefs; why shouldn’t I give them to him?”
“And why haven’t you brought him up better?” said Miss Ophelia; with blunt determination。
“Too much trouble;—laziness; cousin; laziness;—which ruins more souls than you can shake a stick at。 If it weren’t for laziness; I should have been a perfect angel; myself。 I’m inclined to think that laziness is what your old Dr。 Botherem; up in Vermont; used to call the ‘essence of moral evil。’ It’s an awful consideration; certainly。”
“I think you slaveholders have an awful responsibility upon you;” said Miss Ophelia。 “I wouldn’t have it; for a thousand worlds。 You ought to educate your slaves; and treat them like reasonable creatures;—like immortal creatures; that you’ve got to stand before the bar of God with。 That’s my mind;” said the good lady; breaking suddenly out with a tide of zeal that had been gaining strength in her mind all the morning。
“O! come; come;” said St。 Clare; getting up quickly; “what do you know about us?” And he sat down to the piano; and rattled a lively piece of music。 St。 Clare had a decided genius for music。 His touch was brilliant and firm; and his fingers flew over the keys with a rapid and bird…like motion; airy; and yet decided。 He played piece after piece; like a man who is trying to play himself into a good humor。 After pushing the music aside; he rose up; and said; gayly; “Well; now; cousin; you’ve given us a good talk and done your duty; on the whole; I think the better of you for it。 I make no manner of doubt that you threw a very diamond of truth at me; though you see it hit me so directly in the face that it wasn’t exactly appreciated; at first。”
“For my part; I don’t see any use in such sort of talk;” said Marie。 “I’m sure; if anybody does more for servants than we do; I’d like to know who; and it don’t do ’em a bit good;—not a particle;—they get worse and worse。 As to talking to them; or anything like that; I’m sure I have talked till I was tired and hoarse; telling them their duty; and all that; and I’m sure they can go to church when they like; though they don’t understand a word of the sermon; more than so many pigs;—so it isn’t of any great use for them to go; as I see; but they do go; and so they have every chance; but; as I said before; they are a degraded race; and always will be; and there isn’t any help for them; you can’t make anything of them; if you try。 You see; Cousin Ophelia; I’ve tried; and you haven’t; I was born and bred among them; and I know。”
Miss Ophelia thought she had said enough; and therefore sat silent。 St。 Clare whistled a tune。
“St。 Clare; I wish you wouldn’t whistle;” said Marie; “it makes my head worse。”
“I won’t;” said St。 Clare。 “Is there anything else you wouldn’t wish me to do?”
“I wish you would have some kind of sympathy for my trials; you never have any feeling for me。”
“My dear acomusing angel!” said St。 Clare。
“It’s provoking to be talked to in that way。”
“Then; how will you be talked to? I’ll talk to order;—any way you’ll mention;—only to give satisfaction。”
A gay laugh from the court rang through the silken curtains of the verandah。 St。 Clare stepped out; and lifting up the curtain; laughed too。
“What is it?” said Miss Ophelia; coming to the railing。
There sat Tom; on a little mossy seat in the court; every one of his button…holes stuck full of cape jessamines; and Eva; gayly laughing; was hanging a wreath of roses round his neck; and then she sat down on his knee; like a chip…sparrow; still laughing。
“O; Tom; you look so funny!”
Tom had a sober; benevolent smile; and seemed; in his quiet way; to be enjoying the fun quite as much as his little mistress。 He lifted his eyes; when he saw his master; with a half…deprecating; apologetic air。
“How can you let her?” said Miss Ophelia。
“Why not?” said St。 Clare。
“Why; I don’t know; it seems so dreadful!”
“You would think no harm in a child’s caressing a large dog; even if he was black; but a creature that can think; and reason; and feel; and is immortal; you shudder at; confess it; cousin。 I know the feeling among some of you northerners well enough。
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