第15天 ! 盖茨比的困惑与惶恐

Wewent upstairs, through period bedrooms swathed in rose and lavender silk andvivid with new flowers, through dressing rooms and poolrooms, and bathroomswith sunken baths--intruding into one chamber where a dishevelled man inpajamas was doing liver exercises on the floor. It was Mr. Klipspringer, the"boarder." I had seen him wandering hungrily about the beach thatmorning. Finally we came to Gatsby's own apartment, a bedroom and a bath and anAdam study, where we sat down and drank a glass of some Chartreuse he took froma cupboard in the wall.

He hadn'tonce ceased looking at Daisy and I think he revalued everything in his houseaccording to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes.Sometimes, too, he stared around at his possessions in a dazed way as though inher actual and astounding presence none of it was any longer real. Once henearly toppled down a flight of stairs.

Hisbedroom was the simplest room of all--except where the dresser was garnishedwith a toilet set of pure dull gold. Daisy took the brush with delight andsmoothed her hair, whereupon Gatsby sat down and shaded his eyes and began tolaugh.

"It'sthe funniest thing, old sport," he said hilariously. "I can't--when Itry to----"

Hehad passed visibly through two states and was entering upon a third.

Afterhis embarrassment and his unreasoning joy he was consumed with wonder at herpresence. He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to theend, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch ofintensity. Now, in the reaction, he was running down like an overwound clock.

Recoveringhimself in a minute he opened for us two hulking patent cabinets which held hismassed suits and dressing-gowns and ties, and his shirts, piled like bricks instacks a dozen high.

"I'vegot a man in England who buys me clothes. He sends over a selection of thingsat the beginning of each season, spring and fall."

Hetook out a pile of shirts and began throwing them, one by one before us, shirtsof sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannel which lost their folds as theyfell and covered the table in many-colored disarray. While we admired hebrought more and the soft rich heap mounted higher--shirts with stripes andscrolls and plaids in coral and apple-green and lavender and faint orange withmonograms of Indian blue. Suddenly with a strained sound, Daisy bent her headinto the shirts and began to cry stormily.

"They'resuch beautiful shirts," she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds."It makes me sad because I've never seen such--such beautiful shirtsbefore."

Afterthe house, we were to see the grounds and the swimming pool, and the hydroplaneand the midsummer flowers--but outside Gatsby's window it began to rain againso we stood in a row looking at the corrugated surface of the Sound.

"Ifit wasn't for the mist we could see your home across the bay," saidGatsby. "You always have a green light that burns all night at the end ofyour dock."

Daisyput her arm through his abruptly but he seemed absorbed in what he had justsaid. Possibly it had occurred to him that the colossal significance of thatlight had now vanished forever. Compared to the great distance that hadseparated him from Daisy it had seemed very near to her, almost touching her.It had seemed as close as a star to the moon. Now it was again a green light ona dock. His count of enchanted objects had diminished by one.

Ibegan to walk about the room, examining various indefinite objects in the halfdarkness. A large photograph of an elderly man in yachting costume attractedme, hung on the wall over his desk.

"Who'sthis?"

"That?That's Mr. Dan Cody, old sport."

Thename sounded faintly familiar.

"He'sdead now. He used to be my best friend years ago."

Therewas a small picture of Gatsby, also in yachting costume, on the bureau--Gatsbywith his head thrown back defiantly--taken apparently when he was abouteighteen.

"Iadore it!" exclaimed Daisy. "The pompadour! You never told me you hada pompadour--or a yacht."

"Lookat this," said Gatsby quickly. "Here's a lot of clippings--about you."

Theystood side by side examining it. I was going to ask to see the rubies when thephone rang and Gatsby took up the receiver.

"Yes....Well, I can't talk now.... I can't talk now, old sport.... I said a SMALLtown.... He must know what a small town is.... Well, he's no use to us ifDetroit is his idea of a small town...."

Herang off.

"Comehere QUICK!" cried Daisy at the window.

Therain was still falling, but the darkness had parted in the west, and there wasa pink and golden billow of foamy clouds above the sea.

"Lookat that," she whispered, and then after a moment: "I'd like to justget one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you around."

Itried to go then, but they wouldn't hear of it; perhaps my presence made themfeel more satisfactorily alone.

"Iknow what we'll do," said Gatsby, "we'll have Klipspringer play thepiano."

Hewent out of the room calling "Ewing!" and returned in a few minutesaccompanied by an embarrassed, slightly worn young man with shell-rimmedglasses and scanty blonde hair. He was now decently clothed in a "sportshirt" open at the neck, sneakers and duck trousers of a nebulous hue.

"Didwe interrupt your exercises?" inquired Daisy politely.

"Iwas asleep," cried Mr. Klipspringer, in a spasm of embarrassment.

"Thatis, I'd BEEN asleep. Then I got up...."

"Klipspringerplays the piano," said Gatsby, cutting him off. "Don't you, Ewing,old sport?"

"Idon't play well. I don't--I hardly play at all. I'm all out of prac----"

"We'llgo downstairs," interrupted Gatsby. He flipped a switch. The grey windowsdisappeared as the house glowed full of light.

Inthe music room Gatsby turned on a solitary lamp beside the piano. He litDaisy's cigarette from a trembling match, and sat down with her on a couch faracross the room where there was no light save what the gleaming floor bouncedin from the hall.

WhenKlipspringer had played "The Love Nest" he turned around on the benchand searched unhappily for Gatsby in the gloom.

"I'mall out of practice, you see. I told you I couldn't play. I'm all out of prac----"

"Don'ttalk so much, old sport," commanded Gatsby. "Play!"

INTHE MORNING,

INTHE EVENING,

AIN'TWE GOT FUN----

Outsidethe wind was loud and there was a faint flow of thunder along the Sound. Allthe lights were going on in West Egg now; the electric trains, men-carrying,were plunging home through the rain from New York. It was the hour of aprofound human change, and excitement was generating on the air.

ONETHING'S SURE AND NOTHING'S SURER

THERICH GET RICHER AND THE POOR GET--CHILDREN.

INTHE MEANTIME,

INBETWEEN TIME----

As Iwent over to say goodbye I saw that the expression of bewilderment had comeback into Gatsby's face, as though a faint doubt had occurred to him as to thequality of his present happiness. Almost five years! There must have beenmoments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams--not throughher own fault but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gonebeyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creativepassion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright featherthat drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a manwill store up in his ghostly heart.

As Iwatched him he adjusted himself a little, visibly. His hand took hold of hersand as she said something low in his ear he turned toward her with a rush ofemotion. I think that voice held him most with its fluctuating, feverish warmthbecause it couldn't be over-dreamed--that voice was a deathless song.

Theyhad forgotten me, but Daisy glanced up and held out her hand; Gatsby didn'tknow me now at all. I looked once more at them and they looked back at me,remotely, possessed by intense life. Then I went out of the room and down themarble steps into the rain, leaving them there together.