第 9 节
作者:白寒      更新:2021-04-30 16:59      字数:9322
  had come to him of what was the matter with him。 His eyes fell from hers。
  He    made     as  if  to  get  up;   but  her   hand    restrained   him    with   a  gentle
  firmness。
  〃Don't!   You   mustn't。〃   Then   aloud;   she   cried:   〃Girlsgirls   there's   a
  sick man here。 Run and get help。 Quick。〃
  〃Nono! II'm not sick。〃
  A   flood   of   shame   and   embarrassment   drenched   him。   He   could   not
  escape   her   tender   hands   without   actual   force   and   his   poignant   shyness
  made that impossible。 She was like a fairy tale; a creature of dreams。 He
  dared   not   meet   her   frank   pitiful   eyes;  though   he   was   intensely  aware   of
  them。 The odor of violets brings to him even to this day a vision of girlish
  charm and daintiness; together with a memory of the abased reverence that
  filled him。
  They     came     running;     her   companions;        eager    with   question     and
  suggestion。   And   hard   upon   their   heels   a   teamster   from   the   road   broke
  through the thicket; summoned by their calls for help。 He stooped to pick
  up something that his foot had struck。 It was a bottle。 He looked at it and
  then at Jeff。
  〃Nothing   the   matter   with   him;   Miss;   but   just   plain   drunk;〃   the   man
  said with a grin。 〃He's been sleeping it off。〃
  Jeff felt the quiver run through her。 She rose; trembling; and with one
  frightened   sidelong   look   at   him   walked   quickly   away。   He   had   seen   a
  wound in her eyes he would not soon forget。 It was as if he had struck her
  down while she was holding out hands to help him。
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  THE VISION SPLENDID
  CHAPTER 5
  Lies need only age to make them respectable。 Given that; they become
  traditions and are put upon a pedestal。 Then the gentlest word for him who
  attacks them is traitor。 From the Note Book of a Dreamer。
  THE     REBEL       FOLLOWS         THE     RAMIFICATIONS            OF    BIG
  BUSINESS AND FINDS THAT THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY ARE NOT
  IN POLITICS FOR THEIR HEALTH
  PART 1
  〃Hmp! Want to be a reporter; do you?〃
  Warren;   city   editor   on   the   Advocate;   leaned   back   in   his   chair   and
  looked Jeff over sharply。
  〃Yes。〃
  〃It's a hell of a life。 Better keep out。〃
  〃I'd like to try it。〃
  〃Any experience?〃
  〃Only correspondence。 I've had two years at college。〃
  The city editor snorted。 He had the unreasoning contempt for college
  men so often found in the old…time newspaper hack。
  〃Then you don't want to be a reporter。 You want to be a journalist;〃 he
  jeered。
  〃They kicked me out;〃 Jeff went on quietly。
  〃Sounds better。 Why?〃
  Jeff hesitated。 〃I got drunk。〃
  〃Can't use you;〃 Warren cut in hastily。
  〃I've quitsworn off。〃
  The city editor was back on the job; his eyes devouring copy。 〃Heard
  that before。 Nothing to it;〃 he grunted。
  〃Give me a trial。 I'll show you。〃
  〃Don't want a man that drinks。 Office crowded with 'em already。〃
  Jeff   held   his   ground。   For   five   minutes   the   attention   of   Warren   was
  focused on his work。
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  THE VISION SPLENDID
  Suddenly he snapped out; 〃Well?〃
  He met Farnum's ingratiating smile。 〃You haven't told me yet what to
  start doing。〃
  〃I told you I didn't want you。〃
  〃But you do。 I'm on the wagon。〃
  〃For how long?〃 jeered the city editor。
  〃For good。〃
  Warren sized him up again。 He saw a cleareyed young fellow without
  a superfluous ounce of flesh on him; not rugged but with a look of strength
  in the slender figure and the thin face。 This young man somehow inspired
  confidence。
  〃Sent in that Colby story to us; didn't you?〃
  〃Yes。〃
  〃Rotten story。 Not half played up。 Report to Jenkins at the City Hall。〃
  〃Now?〃
  〃Now。 Think I meant next year?〃
  The city editor was already lost in the reading of more copy。
  Inside of half an hour Jeff was at work on his first assignment。 Some
  derelict   had   committed   suicide   under   the   very   shadow   of   the   City   Hall。
  Upon the body was a note scrawled on the bask of a dirty envelope。
  Sick and out of work。 Notify Henry Simmons; 237 River Street; San
  Francisco。
  Jenkins; his hands in his pockets; looked at the body indifferently and
  turned the story over to the cub with a nod of his head。
  〃Go to it。 Half a stick;〃 he said。
  From another reporter Jeff learned how much half a stick is。 He wrote
  the account。 When he had read it Jenkins glanced sharply at him。 Though
  only the barest facts were told there was a sob in the story。
  〃That   ain't   just   how   we   handle   vag   suicides;  but   we'll   let   'er   go   this
  time;〃 he commented。
  It did not take Jeff long to learn how to cover a story to the satisfaction
  of   the   city   editor。   He   had   only   to   be   conventional;   sensational;   and   in
  general accurate as to his facts。 He fraternized with his fellow reporters at
  the City Hall; shared stories with them; listened to the cheerful lies they
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  THE VISION SPLENDID
  told of their exploits; and lent them money they generally forgot to return。
  They      were    a  happy…go…lucky        lot;  full   of  careless    generosities     and
  Bohemian tendencies。 Often a week's salary went at a single poker sitting。
  Most of them drank a good deal。
  After    a   few    months'    experience      Jeff   discovered     that   while    the
  gathering      of  news    tends    to  sharpen     the  wits   it  makes     also   for  the
  superficial。     Alertness;    cleverness;    persistence;    a  nose   for   news;   and    a
  surface accuracy were the chief qualities demanded of him by the office。
  He had only to look around him to see that the profession was full of keen…
  eyed;     nimble…witted       old…young      men     who     had    never    attempted      to
  synthesize   the   life   they   were   supposed   to   be   recording   and   interpreting。
  While at work they were always in a hurry; for to…day's news is dead to…
  morrow。   They   wrote   on   the   run;   without   time   for   thought   or   reflection。
  Knowing beyond their years; the fruit of their wisdom was cynicism。 Their
  knowledge withered for lack of roots。
  The   tendency   of   the   city   desk   and   of   copy   readers   is   to   reduce   all
  reporters to a dead level; but in spite of this Jeff managed to get himself
  into his work。 He brought to many stories a freshness; a point of view; an
  optimism that began to be noticed。 From the police run Jeff drifted to other
  departments。       He   covered    hotels;   the  court   house;    the  state   house   and
  general assignments。
  At the end of a couple of years he was promoted to a desk position。
  This did not   suit him;  and   he went   back to the   more   active work   of the
  street。 In time he became known as a star man。 From dramatics he went to
  politics; special stories and feature work。 The big assignments were given
  him。
  It was his duty to meet famous people and interview them。 The chance
  to get behind the scenes at the real inside story was given him。 Because of
  this   many     reputations     were    pricked    like   bubbles    so   far   as  he   was
  concerned。 The mask of greatness was like the false faces children wear to
  conceal their own。 In the one or two really big men he met Jeff discovered
  a humility and simplicity that came from self…forgetfulness。 They were too
  busy with their vision of truth to pose for the public admiration。
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  THE VISION SPLENDID
  PART 2
  It was while Jeff was doing the City Hall run that there came to him
  one night at his rooms a man he had known in the old days when he had
  lived    in  the  river  bottom   district。   If  he  was   surprised    to  see  him   the
  reporter did not show it。
  〃Hello; Burke! Come in。 Glad to see you。〃 Farnum took the hat of his
  guest and relieved his awkwardness by guiding him to a chair and helping
  him get his pipe alight。
  〃How's everything? Little Mike must be growing into a big boy these
  days。 Let's see。 It's three years since I've seen him。〃
  A momentary flicker lit the gloomy eyes of the Irishman。 〃He's a great
  boy; Mike is。 He often speaks of y