Now the weekly Special English program American Stories. Our storytoday is called the Line of Least Resistance(最省力的方法). It waswritten by Edith Wharton. Here is Larry West with the story.
Mr. Mindon returned home for lunch. His wife Millicent was not athome. The servants did not know where she was. Mr. Mindon sat alone ata table in the garden. He ate a small piece of meat and drank somemineral water. Mr. Mindon always ate simple meals because he hadproblems with his stomach. Why then did he keep a cook among hisservants? Because his wife, Millicent, liked to invite her friends tobig dinners and serve them rare and expensive food and wine.
Mr. Mindon did not enjoy his wife's parties. Millicent complained thathe did not know how to enjoy life. She did a lot of things that he didnot like. Millicent wasted Mr. Mindon's money and was unpleasant tohim. But he never got angry with his wife.
After eating, Mr. Mindon took a walk through his house. He did notstay long in the living room. It reminded him of all the hours he hadspent there at his wife's parties. The sight of the formal dining roommade him feel even more uncomfortable. He remembered the long dinnerswhere he had to talk to his wife's friends for hours. They neverseemed very interested in what he was saying.
Mr. Mindon walked quickly past the ballroom where his wife danced withher friends. He would go to bed after dinner, but he could hear theorchestra playing until three in the morning.
Mr. Mindon walked into the library. No one in the house ever read anyof the books. But Mr. Mindon was proud to be rich enough to have aperfectly useless room in his house.
He went into the sunny little room where his wife planned her busydays and evenings. Her writing table was covered with notes and cardsfrom all her friends. Her wastepaper basket was full of emptyenvelopes that had carried invitations to lunches, dinners, andtheater parties.
Mr. Mindon saw a letter crushed into a small ball on the floor. Hebent to pick it up. Just as he was about to throw it into thewastepaper basket, he noticed that the letter was signed by hisbusiness partner, Thomas Antrim. But Antrim's letter to Mr. Mindon'swife was not about business. As Mr. Mindon read it, he felt as if hismind was spinning out of control. He sat down heavily in the chairnear his wife's little writing table.
Now the room looked cold and unfamiliar. "Who are you?" the wallsseemed to say. "Who am I?" Mr. Mindon said in a loud voice. "I'll tellyou who I am! I am the man who paid for every piece of furniture inthis room. If it were not for me and my money, this room would beempty!" Suddenly, Mr. Mindon felt taller. He marched across his wife'sroom. It belonged to him, didn't it? The house belonged to him, too.
He felt powerful. He sat at the table and wrote a letter to Millicent.
One of the servants came into the room. "Did you call, sir?" he asked.
"No," Mr. Mindon replied, "but since you are here, please telephonefor a taxi cab at once." The taxi took him to a hotel near his bank. Aclerk showed him to his room. It smelled of cheap soap. The window inthe room was open and hot noises came up from the street.
Mr. Mindon looked at his watch. Four o'clock. He wondered if Millicenthad come home yet and read his letter. His head began to ache and Mr.
Mindon lay down on a bed. When he woke up, it was dark. He looked athis watch. Eight o'clock. Millicent must be dressing for dinner. Theywere supposed to go to Mrs. Targe's house for dinner tonight. Well,Mr. Mindon thought, Millicent would have to go alone. Maybe she wouldask Thomas Antrim to take her to the party.
Mr. Mindon realized he was hungry. He left his room and walked downthe stairs to the hotel dining room. The air, smelling of coffee andfried food, wrapped itself around his head.
Mr. Mindon could not eat much of the food that the hotel waiterbrought him. He went back to his room, feeling sick. He also felt hotand dirty in the clothing he had worn all day. He had never realizedhow much he loved his home.
Someone knocked at his door. Mr. Mindon jumped to his feet. "Mindon,"a voice asked. "Are you there?" Mr. Mindon recognized that voice. Itbelonged to Laurence Meysy. Thirty years ago Meysy had been verypopular with women-especially with other men's wives. As a young manhe had interfered in many marriages. Now, in his old age, LaurenceMeysy had become a kind of "marriage doctor." He helped husbands andwives save their marriages.
Mr. Mindon began to feel better as soon as Laurence Meysy walked intohis hotel room. Two men followed him. One was Mr. Mindon's rich uncleEzra Brownrigg. The other was the Reverend Doctor Bonifant, theminister of Saint Luke's church where Mr. Mindon and his family prayedevery Sunday.
Mr. Mindon looked at the three men and felt very proud that they hadcome to help him. For the first time in his married life, Mr. Mindonfelt as important as his wife Millicent.
Laurence Meysy sat on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette. "Mrs.
Mindon sent for me," he said. Mr. Mindon could not help feeling proudof Millicent. She had done the right thing. Meysy continued. "Sheshowed me your letter. She asks you for mercy." Meysy paused, and thensaid, "The poor woman is very unhappy. And we have come here to askyou what you plan to do."Now Mr. Mindon began to feel uncomfortable. "To do?" he asked. "To do?
Well, I plan to, to leave her."Meysy stopped smoking his cigarette. "Do you want to divorce her?" heasked.
"Why, yes, yes!" Mr. Mindon replied.
Meysy knocked the ashes from his cigarette. "Are you absolutely surethat you want to do this?" he asked.
Mr. Mindon nodded his head. "I plan to divorce her," he said loudly.
Mr. Mindon began to feel very excited. It was the first time he hadever had so many people sitting and listening to him. He told hisaudience everything, beginning with his discovery of his wife's loveaffair with his business partner and ending with his complaints abouther expensive dinner parties.
His uncle looked at his watch. Doctor Bonifant began to stare out ofthe hotel window. Meysy stood up. "Do you plan to dishonor yourselfthen?" he asked. "No one knows what has happened. You are the only onewho can reveal the secret. You will make yourself look foolish."Mr. Mindon tried to rise, but he fell back weakly. The three menpicked up their hats. In another moment they would be gone. When theyleft, Mr. Mindon would lose his audience, and his belief in himselfand his decision. "I won't leave for New York until tomorrow," hewhispered. Laurence Meysy smiled.
"Tomorrow will be too late," he said. "Tomorrow everyone will know youare here." Meysy opened the hotel room door. Mr. Brownrigg and DoctorBonifant walked out of the room.
Meysy turned to follow them when he felt Mr. Mindon's hand grab hisarm. "I, I will come with you," Mr. Mindon sighed. "It's, it's for thechildren." Laurence Meysy nodded as Mr. Mindon walked out of the room.
He closed the door gently.
You have just heard the story the Line of Least Resistance. It waswritten by Edith Wharton and adapted for Special English by DonaldDiscenctus. Your storyteller was Larry West. For VOA Special English,this is Shep O'Neal. |