A Service of Love

When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard.

当一个人热爱自己的艺术时，任何付出似乎都不算辛苦。

That is our premise. This story shall draw a conclusion from it, and show at the same time that the premise is incorrect. That will be a new thing in logic, and a feat in story-telling somewhat older than the great wall of China.

这就是我们的前提。这篇故事将从这个前提出发得出一个结论，同时也会证明这个前提本身是错的。这在逻辑学上算是件新鲜事，而在讲故事这门手艺上，倒是比中国的万里长城还要古老一些的把戏。

Joe Larrabee came out of the post-oak flats of the Middle West pulsing with a genius for pictorial art. At six he drew a picture of the town pump with a prominent citizen passing it hastily. This effort was framed and hung in the drug store window by the side of the ear of corn with an uneven number of rows. At twenty he left for New York with a flowing necktie and a capital tied up somewhat closer.

乔·拉拉比出身于中西部一片长满假黑麦草的低洼地带，浑身洋溢着绘画艺术的天赋。六岁那年，他画了一幅镇上水泵的画，画里一位知名市民正匆匆走过。这幅作品被镶了框，挂在药店的橱窗里，紧挨着那根玉米棒——那根玉米棒的颗粒行数是单数。二十岁那年，他系着一条飘逸的领带，怀里揣着比领带还要更紧巴一点的资本，动身前往纽约。

Delia Caruthers did things in six octaves so promisingly in a pine-tree village in the South that her relatives chipped in enough in her chip hat for her to go “North” and “finish.” They could not see her f—, but that is our story.

德莉娅·卡拉瑟斯在南方一个松树村里，把六个八度音阶弹得那样有前途，以至于亲戚们凑了一笔钱塞进她的草帽里，好让她“北上”去“深造”。他们看不出她的前途究竟如何——但这不是我们要讲的故事重点。

Joe and Delia met in an atelier where a number of art and music students had gathered to discuss chiaroscuro, Wagner, music, Rembrandt’s works, pictures, Waldteufel, wall paper, Chopin and Oolong.

乔和德莉娅在一间画室里相遇，那里聚集着一群美术生和音乐生，正谈论着明暗对照法、瓦格纳、音乐、伦勃朗的作品、绘画、瓦尔德托伊费尔、糊墙纸、肖邦，还有乌龙茶。

Joe and Delia became enamoured one of the other, or each of the other, as you please, and in a short time were married—for (see above), when one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard.

乔和德莉娅彼此倾心，或者说，随你怎么说，二人互相爱上了对方，不久便结了婚——因为（见前文），当一个人热爱自己的艺术时，任何付出似乎都不算辛苦。

Mr. and Mrs. Larrabee began housekeeping in a flat. It was a lonesome flat—something like the A sharp way down at the left-hand end of the keyboard. And they were happy; for they had their Art, and they had each other. And my advice to the rich young man would be—sell all thou hast, and give it to the poor—janitor for the privilege of living in a flat with your Art and your Delia.

拉拉比夫妇便在一套公寓里安下家来。那是一套孤零零的公寓——有点像键盘最左端那个低音升A调。他们过得很幸福；因为他们有各自的艺术，也有彼此。我要给那位有钱的年轻人的忠告是——变卖你所有的一切，把钱送给管院子的门房——好换取和你的艺术、你的德莉娅一起住在一套公寓里的特权。

Flat-dwellers shall indorse my dictum that theirs is the only true happiness. If a home is happy it cannot fit too close—let the dresser collapse and become a billiard table; let the mantel turn to a rowing machine, the escritoire to a spare bedchamber, the washstand to an upright piano; let the four walls come together, if they will, so you and your Delia are between. But if home be the other kind, let it be wide and long—enter you at the Golden Gate, hang your hat on Hatteras, your cape on Cape Horn and go out by the Labrador.

住公寓的人们，想必都会赞同我这个说法：只有他们才拥有真正的幸福。倘若家是幸福的，那它再挤也不嫌挤——就让梳妆台塌下来变成台球桌吧；让壁炉架变成划船机，让写字台变成备用卧室，让脸盆架变成立式钢琴吧；就让四面墙壁挨得紧紧的，只要你和你的德莉娅还夹在中间就行。可倘若家是另外一种，那就让它又宽又长吧——从金门进去，把帽子挂在哈特拉斯，把披风挂在合恩角，再从拉布拉多出去。

Joe was painting in the class of the great Magister—you know his fame. His fees are high; his lessons are light—his high-lights have brought him renown. Delia was studying under Rosenstock—you know his repute as a disturber of the piano keys.

乔在那位大画师的班里学画——他的名声你是知道的。他的学费很高；他讲课却很轻松——他画的那些高光，倒是给他带来了不小的名声。德莉娅则跟着罗森斯托克学琴——他扰乱钢琴键盘的本事，你也是知道的。

They were mighty happy as long as their money lasted. So is every—but I will not be cynical. Their aims were very clear and defined. Joe was to become capable very soon of turning out pictures that old gentlemen with thin side-whiskers and thick pocketbooks would sandbag one another in his studio for the privilege of buying. Delia was to become familiar and then contemptuous with Music, so that when she saw the orchestra seats and boxes unsold she could have sore throat and lobster in a private dining-room and refuse to go on the stage.

只要钱还没花光，他们过得便十分快活。谁不是这样呢——不过我可不想说这种风凉话。他们的目标都十分明确清晰。乔的目标是尽快练就一身本领，画出那种能让蓄着稀疏络腮胡、揣着厚实钱包的老先生们，在他画室里争抢着掏钱购买的画作。德莉娅的目标则是先熟悉音乐，再厌倦音乐，这样等她看见乐池座位和包厢都卖不出去时，她便可以推说嗓子疼、正在私人餐厅吃龙虾，从而拒绝登台。

But the best, in my opinion, was the home life in the little flat—the ardent, voluble chats after the day’s study; the cozy dinners and fresh, light breakfasts; the interchange of ambitions—ambitions interwoven each with the other’s or else inconsiderable—the mutual help and inspiration; and—overlook my artlessness—stuffed olives and cheese sandwiches at 11 p.m.

不过依我看，最美好的还要数这套小公寓里的家居生活——一天学习结束后热烈滔滔的谈话；温馨的晚餐和清爽轻便的早餐；彼此抱负的交流——这些抱负要么彼此交织，要么便无足轻重——相互的帮助与鼓舞；还有——请原谅我这份朴拙——晚上十一点的酿橄榄和奶酪三明治。

But after a while Art flagged. It sometimes does, even if some switchman doesn’t flag it. Everything going out and nothing coming in, as the vulgarians say. Money was lacking to pay Mr. Magister and Herr Rosenstock their prices. When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard. So, Delia said she must give music lessons to keep the chafing dish bubbling.

可过了一阵子，艺术这条路走得吃力起来。这种事有时候就是会发生，哪怕没有哪个扳道工存心要拦下它。用那些俗人的话说，就是出账不断，进账全无。已经没钱付大画师和罗森斯托克先生的学费了。当一个人热爱自己的艺术时，任何付出似乎都不算辛苦。于是，德莉娅说她得去教音乐课，好让炖锅继续冒着热气。

For two or three days she went out canvassing for pupils. One evening she came home elated.

一连两三天，她都出门去招揽学生。有一天晚上，她兴高采烈地回到家。

“Joe, dear,” she said, gleefully, “I’ve a pupil. And, oh, the loveliest people! General—General A. B. Pinkney’s daughter—on Seventy-first street. Such a splendid house, Joe—you ought to see the front door! Byzantine I think you would call it. And inside! Oh, Joe, I never saw anything like it before.

“乔，亲爱的，”她欣喜若狂地说，“我找到了一个学生。哦，那家人真是可爱极了！将军——平克尼将军的女儿——住在第七十一街。那房子真气派，乔——你真该看看那扇正门！我想你会说那是拜占庭式的。再看看里头！哦，乔，我从没见过那样的地方。”

“My pupil is his daughter Clementina. I dearly love her already. She’s a delicate thing—dresses always in white; and the sweetest, simplest manners! Only eighteen years old. I’m to give three lessons a week; and, just think, Joe! $5 a lesson. I don’t mind it a bit; for when I get two or three more pupils I can resume my lessons with Herr Rosenstock. Now, smooth out that wrinkle between your brows, dear, and let’s have a nice supper.”

“我的学生是他女儿，克莱门蒂娜。我已经打心眼里喜欢上她了。她是个娇弱的姑娘——总是一身白衣；而且举止最是甜美朴素！才十八岁。我每周教三节课；你想想看，乔！一节课五块钱呢。我一点也不在乎；等我再多招几个学生，我就能重新跟罗森斯托克先生学琴了。好了，把你眉心那道皱纹抚平了吧，亲爱的，我们好好吃顿晚饭。”

“That’s all right for you, Dele,” said Joe, attacking a can of peas with a carving knife and a hatchet, “but how about me? Do you think I’m going to let you hustle for wages while I philander in the regions of high art? Not by the bones of Benvenuto Cellini! I guess I can sell papers or lay cobblestones, and bring in a dollar or two.”

“你说得倒轻巧，德莉，”乔说着，正拿刀子和斧子一般的架势对付一罐豌豆，“可我怎么办？你以为我会眼看着你出去挣钱糊口，自己却在高雅艺术的领域里游手好闲吗？绝不会，我以本韦努托·切利尼的骨头起誓！我想我还能去卖卖报纸，或者铺铺石子路，好歹能挣个一两块钱回来。”

Delia came and hung about his neck.

德莉娅走过来，搂住了他的脖子。

“Joe, dear, you are silly. You must keep on at your studies. It is not as if I had quit my music and gone to work at something else. While I teach I learn. I am always with my music. And we can live as happily as millionaires on $15 a week. You mustn’t think of leaving Mr. Magister.”

“乔，亲爱的，你真傻。你必须继续你的学业。这又不是说我放弃了音乐去做别的什么营生。我教课的时候，自己也在学习。我一直都跟音乐待在一起呢。而且我们靠一周十五块钱，也能过得像百万富翁一样快活。你千万别想着离开大画师先生。”

“All right,” said Joe, reaching for the blue scalloped vegetable dish. “But I hate for you to be giving lessons. It isn’t Art. But you’re a trump and a dear to do it.”

“好吧，”乔说着，伸手去拿那个蓝色荷叶边的蔬菜碟。“可我就是不喜欢你去教课。这不是艺术。不过你肯这么做，真是个可爱又了不起的好姑娘。”

“When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard,” said Delia.

“当一个人热爱自己的艺术时，任何付出似乎都不算辛苦，”德莉娅说。

“Magister praised the sky in that sketch I made in the park,” said Joe. “And Tinkle gave me permission to hang two of them in his window. I may sell one if the right kind of a moneyed idiot sees them.”

“大画师夸奖了我在公园里画的那幅速写里的天空，”乔说。“廷克尔也答应让我把其中两幅挂在他的橱窗里。要是哪个有钱的傻瓜看中了，我说不定还能卖出去一幅呢。”

“I’m sure you will,” said Delia, sweetly. “And now let’s be thankful for Gen. Pinkney and this veal roast.”

“我相信你一定能卖出去，”德莉娅甜甜地说。“现在，我们该感谢平克尼将军，还有这道烤小牛肉才是。”

During all of the next week the Larrabees had an early breakfast. Joe was enthusiastic about some morning-effect sketches he was doing in Central Park, and Delia packed him off breakfasted, coddled, praised and kissed at 7 o’clock. Art is an engaging mistress. It was most times 7 o’clock when he returned in the evening.

接下来的整整一周，拉拉比夫妇都吃得很早的早饭。乔正兴致勃勃地画着他在中央公园画的几幅晨景速写，德莉娅每天七点就把他打理得妥妥当当地送出门——吃得饱饱的，受尽宠爱和夸奖，还得了个吻。艺术真是位迷人的情妇。他晚上回来时，也常常已是七点钟了。

At the end of the week Delia, sweetly proud but languid, triumphantly tossed three five-dollar bills on the 8×10 (inches) centre table of the 8×10 (feet) flat parlour.

到了周末，德莉娅带着甜甜的骄傲，却又略显疲惫，得意扬扬地把三张五块钱的钞票扔在那间八乘十英尺的公寓客厅里那张八乘十英寸的茶几上。

“Sometimes,” she said, a little wearily, “Clementina tries me. I’m afraid she doesn’t practise enough, and I have to tell her the same things so often. And then she always dresses entirely in white, and that does get monotonous. But Gen. Pinkney is the dearest old man! I wish you could know him, Joe. He comes in sometimes when I am with Clementina at the piano—he is a widower, you know—and stands there pulling his white goatee. ‘And how are the semiquavers and the demisemiquavers progressing?’ he always asks.

“有时候，”她带着几分倦意说道，“克莱门蒂娜真让我头疼。我担心她练琴练得不够，同样的话我得跟她说好多遍。而且她总是一身白衣打扮，这也真是单调得很。不过平克尼将军真是个最可爱的老人家！乔，我真希望你能认识认识他。有时候我正跟克莱门蒂娜在弹钢琴，他会走进来——你知道，他是个鳏夫——站在那儿捻着他那撮白山羊胡。‘十六分音符和三十二分音符弹得怎么样啦？’他总是这么问。”

“I wish you could see the wainscoting in that drawing-room, Joe! And those Astrakhan rug portières. And Clementina has such a funny little cough. I hope she is stronger than she looks. Oh, I really am getting attached to her, she is so gentle and high bred. Gen. Pinkney’s brother was once Minister to Bolivia.”

“乔，我真希望你能看看那客厅的护墙板！还有那些阿斯特拉罕地毯做的门帘。克莱门蒂娜还有个挺好玩的小小咳嗽的毛病。但愿她的身子骨比看上去要结实些。哦，我是真的越来越喜欢她了，她是那样温柔，又那样有教养。平克尼将军的弟弟以前还当过驻玻利维亚公使呢。”

And then Joe, with the air of a Monte Cristo, drew forth a ten, a five, a two and a one—all legal tender notes—and laid them beside Delia’s earnings.

于是乔也摆出一副基督山伯爵的派头，掏出一张十块的、一张五块的、一张两块的，还有一张一块的——全是合法通行的钞票——放在了德莉娅挣的钱旁边。

“Sold that watercolour of the obelisk to a man from Peoria,” he announced overwhelmingly.

“把那幅方尖碑的水彩画卖给了一个从皮奥里亚来的人，”他得意洋洋地宣布道。

“Don’t joke with me,” said Delia, “not from Peoria!”

“别跟我开玩笑，”德莉娅说，“不会真是皮奥里亚来的吧！”

“All the way. I wish you could see him, Dele. Fat man with a woollen muffler and a quill toothpick. He saw the sketch in Tinkle’s window and thought it was a windmill at first. He was game, though, and bought it anyhow. He ordered another—an oil sketch of the Lackawanna freight depot—to take back with him. Music lessons! Oh, I guess Art is still in it.”

“千真万确，从那么远的地方来的。德莉，我真希望你能看看他的模样。一个胖胖的男人，围着条毛线围巾，嘴里叼着根羽毛牙签。他是在廷克尔的橱窗里看见那幅速写的，起先还以为画的是座风车呢。不过他倒是挺豪爽，还是买了下来。他还订了一幅——一幅拉克万纳货运站的油画速写——要带回去。音乐课！哦，我看艺术这条路，还是有点门道的嘛。”

“I’m so glad you’ve kept on,” said Delia, heartily. “You’re bound to win, dear. Thirty-three dollars! We never had so much to spend before. We’ll have oysters to-night.”

“真高兴你没放弃，”德莉娅由衷地说。“你一定会成功的，亲爱的。三十三块钱！我们从来没有这么多钱可以花过。今晚我们吃牡蛎吧。”

“And filet mignon with champignons,” said Joe. “Where is the olive fork?”

“再来一份配蘑菇的菲力牛排，”乔说。“橄榄叉放哪儿了？”

On the next Saturday evening Joe reached home first. He spread his $18 on the parlour table and washed what seemed to be a great deal of dark paint from his hands.

到了下一个星期六晚上，乔先到家。他把自己挣的十八块钱摊在客厅的桌上，又洗掉了手上一大堆看似深色颜料的东西。

Half an hour later Delia arrived, her right hand tied up in a shapeless bundle of wraps and bandages.

半小时后，德莉娅也到了家，她的右手用一团乱糟糟的布条和绷带缠着。

“How is this?” asked Joe after the usual greetings. Delia laughed, but not very joyously.

“这是怎么回事？”寒暄过后，乔问道。德莉娅笑了笑，笑得却不怎么开心。

“Clementina,” she explained, “insisted upon a Welsh rabbit after her lesson. She is such a queer girl. Welsh rabbits at 5 in the afternoon. The General was there. You should have seen him run for the chafing dish, Joe, just as if there wasn’t a servant in the house. I know Clementina isn’t in good health; she is so nervous. In serving the rabbit she spilled a great lot of it, boiling hot, over my hand and wrist. It hurt awfully, Joe. And the dear girl was so sorry!”

“克莱门蒂娜，”她解释道，“非要在上完课后吃一份威尔士兔子干酪不可。她就是这么个怪姑娘。下午五点吃威尔士兔子干酪。将军当时也在。乔，你真该看看他跑去拿炖锅时的样子，就好像家里根本没有仆人似的。我知道克莱门蒂娜身体不太好，她那么神经质。她端那份干酪的时候，洒了一大摊，滚烫滚烫的，正好洒在我的手上和手腕上。疼得要命，乔。那可怜的姑娘心里也过意不去极了！”

“But Gen. Pinkney!—Joe, that old man nearly went distracted. He rushed downstairs and sent somebody—they said the furnace man or somebody in the basement—out to a drug store for some oil and things to bind it up with. It doesn’t hurt so much now.”

“可平克尼将军呢！——乔，那老人家差点急疯了。他冲下楼去，打发了个什么人——他们说是烧锅炉的工人，还是地下室里的什么人——去药店买了些油和别的东西来包扎。现在已经不那么疼了。”

“What’s this?” asked Joe, taking the hand tenderly and pulling at some white strands beneath the bandages.

“这是什么？”乔一边问，一边轻轻托起那只手，从绷带底下拉出几缕白色的东西。

“It’s something soft,” said Delia, “that had oil on it. Oh, Joe, did you sell another sketch?” She had seen the money on the table.

“是什么软软的东西，”德莉娅说，“上面沾着油。哦，乔，你是不是又卖出去一幅速写了？”她已经看见了桌上的钱。

“Did I?” said Joe; “just ask the man from Peoria. He got his depot to-day, and he isn’t sure but he thinks he wants another parkscape and a view on the Hudson. What time this afternoon did you burn your hand, Dele?”

“是不是卖出去了？”乔说，“你去问问那个皮奥里亚来的人就知道了。他今天拿到了他那幅货运站的画，说不定还想再要一幅公园风景画，加一幅哈德逊河景呢。德莉，你今天下午几点烫伤的手？”

“Five o’clock, I think,” said Dele, plaintively. “The iron—I mean the rabbit came off the fire about that time. You ought to have seen Gen. Pinkney, Joe, when—”

“大概五点吧，我想，”德莉带着几分委屈说道。“熨斗——我是说，那份兔子干酪大概就是那时候从炉子上端下来的。乔，你真该看看平克尼将军当时……”

“Sit down here a moment, Dele,” said Joe. He drew her to the couch, sat beside her and put his arm across her shoulders.

“德莉，在这儿坐一会儿，”乔说。他把她拉到长沙发上，在她身边坐下，一只胳膊搭在她的肩上。

“What have you been doing for the last two weeks, Dele?” he asked.

“德莉，这两个星期你到底都在做什么？”他问道。

She braved it for a moment or two with an eye full of love and stubbornness, and murmured a phrase or two vaguely of Gen. Pinkney; but at length down went her head and out came the truth and tears.

她凭着满眼的爱意和几分倔强，硬撑了一两分钟，含糊地又提了一两句平克尼将军的话；可到最后，她还是低下了头，说出了真相，眼泪也跟着掉了下来。

“I couldn’t get any pupils,” she confessed. “And I couldn’t bear to have you give up your lessons; and I got a place ironing shirts in that big Twenty-fourth street laundry. And I think I did very well to make up both General Pinkney and Clementina, don’t you, Joe? And when a girl in the laundry set down a hot iron on my hand this afternoon I was all the way home making up that story about the Welsh rabbit. You’re not angry, are you, Joe? And if I hadn’t got the work you mightn’t have sold your sketches to that man from Peoria.”

“我根本招不到什么学生，”她坦白道。“可我又不忍心让你放弃你的课程；于是我就在第二十四街那家大洗衣店找了份熨衬衫的活儿。乔，我把平克尼将军和克莱门蒂娜这两个人物编得像模像样的，你说是不是？今天下午，洗衣店里的一个姑娘不小心把一把烧热的熨斗放在了我的手上，我一路走回家的时候，就一直在编那个威尔士兔子干酪的故事。你不生气吧，乔？要是我没找到那份工作，你说不定也没法把你的速写卖给那个皮奥里亚来的人呢。”

“He wasn’t from Peoria,” said Joe, slowly.

“他不是从皮奥里亚来的，”乔缓缓说道。

“Well, it doesn’t matter where he was from. How clever you are, Joe—and—kiss me, Joe—and what made you ever suspect that I wasn’t giving music lessons to Clementina?”

“好吧，他从哪儿来的都无所谓。你可真聪明啊，乔——还有——亲我一下，乔——你到底是怎么起了疑心，觉得我没有真的在给克莱门蒂娜上音乐课的？”

“I didn’t,” said Joe, “until to-night. And I wouldn’t have then, only I sent up this cotton waste and oil from the engine-room this afternoon for a girl upstairs who had her hand burned with a smoothing-iron. I’ve been firing the engine in that laundry for the last two weeks.”

“我原先并没有起疑，”乔说，“直到今天晚上才知道。要不是我今天下午从锅炉房送了些棉纱和油上楼，给一个手被熨斗烫伤的姑娘用，我大概也不会知道。这两个星期，我一直在那家洗衣店里烧锅炉呢。”

“And then you didn’t—”

“那你也没有……”

“My purchaser from Peoria,” said Joe, “and Gen. Pinkney are both creations of the same art—but you wouldn’t call it either painting or music.”

“我那位皮奥里亚来的买主，”乔说，“还有平克尼将军，都是同一门艺术的产物——不过你大概不会把这门艺术叫作绘画，也不会叫作音乐。”

And then they both laughed, and Joe began:

于是两人都笑了起来，乔又开口道：

“When one loves one’s Art no service seems—”

“当一个人热爱自己的艺术时，任何付出似乎都——”

But Delia stopped him with her hand on his lips. “No,” she said—“just ‘When one loves.’”

可德莉娅用手捂住了他的嘴，止住了他。“不，”她说——“就说‘当一个人爱着的时候’就好。”