发表于2025-01-22
The Age of Innocence[純真年代] [平裝] pdf epub mobi txt 電子書 下載 2025
伊迪絲·華頓(Edith Wharton, 1862年1月24日-1937年8月11日),是19 世紀末女性現實主義作傢的代錶,她的一生推齣瞭近十餘部作品,包括中、長篇小說、詩歌、傳記和文學批評等不同體裁。由於她生活的局限性,她的小說一般都是以一種極其細膩的手法描寫著貴族生活,所以也被人稱為溫和現實主義作傢。美國女作傢,作品有《高尚的嗜好》、《純真年代》、《四月裏的陣雨》、《馬恩河》、《戰地英雄》等書。
ON A January evening of the early seventies, Christine Nilsson was singing in "Faust" at the Academy of Music in New York.
Though there was already talk of the erection, in remote metropolitan distances "above the Forties," of a new Opera House which should compete in costliness and splendour with those of the great European capitals, the world of fashion was still content to reassemble every winter in the shabby red and gold boxes of the sociable old Academy. Conservatives cherished it for being small and inconvenient, and thus keeping out the "new people" whom New York was beginning to dread and yet be drawn to; and the sentimental clung to it for its historic associations, and the musical for its excellent acoustics, always so problematic a quality in halls built for the hearing of music.
It was Madame Nilsson's first appearance that winter, and what the daily press had already learned to describe as "an exceptionally brilliant audience" had gathered to hear her, transported through the slippery, snowy streets in private broughams, in the spacious family landau, or in the humbler but more convenient "Brown coupé." To come to the Opera in a Brown coupe was almost as honourable a way of arriving as in one's own carriage; and departure by the same means had the immense advantage of enabling one (with a playful allusion to democratic principles) to scramble into the first Brown conveyance in the line, instead of waiting till the cold-and-gin congested nose of one's own coachman gleamed under the portico of the Academy. It was one of the great livery-stableman's most masterly intuitions to have discovered that Americans want to get away from amusement even more quickly than they want to get to it.
When Newland Archer opened the door at the back of the club box the curtain had just gone up on the garden scene. There was no reason why the young man should not have come earlier, for he had dined at seven, alone with his mother and sister, and had lingered afterward over a cigar in the Gothic library with glazed black-walnut bookcases and finial-topped chairs which was the only room in the house where Mrs. Archer allowed smoking. But, in the first place, New York was a metropolis, and perfectly aware that in metropolises it was "not the thing" to arrive early at the opera; and what was or was not "the thing" played a part as important in Newland Archer's New York as the inscrutable totem terrors that had ruled the destinies of his forefathers thousands of years ago.
The second reason for his delay was a personal one. He had dawdled over his cigar because he was at heart a dilettante, and thinking over a pleasure to come often gave him a subtler satisfaction than its realisation. This was especially the case when the pleasure was a delicate one, as his pleasures mostly were; and on this occasion the moment he looked forward to was so rare and exquisite in quality that—well, if he had timed his arrival in accord with the prima donna's stage-manager he could not have entered the Academy at a more significant moment than just as she was singing: "He loves me—he loves me not—he loves me!—" and sprinkling the falling daisy petals with notes as clear as dew.
She sang, of course, "M'ama!" and not "he loves me," since an unalterable and unquestioned law of the musical world required that the German text of French operas sung by Swedish artists should be translated into Italian for the clearer understanding of English-speaking audiences. This seemed as natural to Newland Archer as all the other conventions on which his life was moulded: such as the duty of using two silver-backed brushes with his monogram in blue enamel to part his hair, and of never appearing in society without a flower (preferably a gardenia) in his buttonhole.
"M'ama . . . non m'ama . . ." the prima donna sang, and "M'ama!" with a final burst of love triumphant, as she pressed the dishevelled daisy to her lips and lifted her large eyes to the sophisticated countenance of the little brown Faust-Capoul, who was vainly trying, in a tight purple velvet doublet and plumed cap, to look as pure and true as his artless victim.
Newland Archer, leaning against the wall at the back of the club box, turned his eyes from the stage and scanned the opposite side of the house. Directly facing him was the box of old Mrs. Manson Mingott, whose monstrous obesity had long since made it impossible for her to attend the Opera, but who was always represented on fashionable nights by some of the younger members of the family. On this occasion, the front of the box was filled by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, and her daughter, Mrs. Welland; and slightly withdrawn behind these brocaded matrons sat a young girl in white with eyes ecstatically fixed on the stage lovers. As Madame Nilsson's "M'ama!" thrilled out above the silent house (the boxes always stopped talking during the Daisy Song) a warm pink mounted to the girl's cheek, mantled her brow to the roots of her fair braids, and suffused the young slope of her breast to the line where it met a modest tulle tucker fastened with a single gardenia. She dropped her eyes to the immense bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley on her knee, and Newland Archer saw her white-gloved finger-tips touch the flowers softly. He drew a breath of satisfied vanity and his eyes returned to the stage.
No expense had been spared on the setting, which was acknowledged to be very beautiful even by people who shared his acquaintance with the Opera Houses of Paris and Vienna. The foreground, to the footlights, was covered with emerald green cloth. In the middle distance symmetrical mounds of woolly green moss bounded by croquet hoops formed the base of shrubs shaped like orange-trees but studded with large pink and red roses. Gigantic pansies, considerably larger than the roses, and closely resembling the floral pen-wipers made by female parishioners for fashionable clergymen, sprang from the moss beneath the rose-trees; and here and there a daisy grafted on a rose-branch flowered with a luxuriance prophetic of Mr. Luther Burbank's far-off prodigies.
In the centre of this enchanted garden Madame Nilsson, in white cashmere slashed with pale blue satin, a reticule dangling from a blue girdle, and large yellow braids carefully disposed on each side of her muslin chemisette, listened with downcast eyes to M. Capoul's impassioned wooing, and affected a guileless incomprehension of his designs whenever, by word or glance, he persuasively indicated the ground floor window of the neat brick villa projecting obliquely from the right wing.
"The darling!" though The Age of Innocence[純真年代] [平裝] 下載 mobi epub pdf txt 電子書
君臨那邊婚禮的事情又不談瞭,加瞭一場泰溫和喬佛裏的對話,看老獅子把小喬嗆得啞口無言,還挺過癮的,但是感覺這一幕加在這裏也沒什麼太大的必要,兩者的衝突不構成劇情發展的推力嘛。北境這邊,“怎麼還沒有死”的羅柏在紅婚前貢獻瞭自己的肉體!(編劇真有你的,絕對不浪費手上資源!)。不過,羅柏與小護士的肉戲比起小魷魚那段就真是弱爆瞭。小魷魚已經被小剝皮玩壞瞭,雖然第二季覺得他挺討厭,但是現在真心覺得他是這劇最悲劇的人。繼前幾集差點被爆菊、接著又被切手指之後,這一集小剝皮竟然要閹割他!小剝皮真心無節操沒有下限,太恐怖瞭!
評分評分
還行,就是 配送有點慢啊
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評分還不錯!。。。。。。。。
評分我們可以把握自己的命運,可那些羈絆和瑣碎的現實無形中消磨瞭我們的勇氣。我們一次次地把自己的命運交到彆人手中,那是不負責任還是太負責任?
評分那個豪華的大廳,一年365天有364天都是緊閉著的,繁華散盡,水晶吊燈濛上灰塵,熱鬧的大廳會如黑夜般冷清,他不知道這些都有什麼意義,心中仿佛有東西在悄悄流走。
評分好
評分喜歡,英語提高必讀,非常精彩
The Age of Innocence[純真年代] [平裝] pdf epub mobi txt 電子書 下載