the price she paid-第38章
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asting people and time…wasting pleasures that are necessary to any and all careers。 It means in additionfor such a person sacrifices far beyond a character so undisciplined and so corrupted by conventional life as is yours。 The basis of a singing career is health and strength。 You must have great physical strength to be able to sing operas。 You must have perfect health。
Diet and exercise。 A routine life； its routine rigidly adhered to； day in and day out； month after month； year after year。 Small and uninteresting and monotonous food； nothing to drink； and； of course； no cigarettes。 Such is the secret of a reliable voice for you who have a ‘‘delicate throat''which is the silly； shallow； and misleading way of saying a delicate digestion； for sore throat always means indigestion； never means anything else。 To sing； the instrument； the absolutely material machine； must be in perfect order。 The rest is easy。
Some singers can commit indiscretions of diet and of lack of exercise。 But not you； because you lack this natural strength。 Do not be deceived and misled by their example。
Exercise。 You must make your body strong； powerful。 You have not the muscles by nature。 You must acquire them。
The following routine of diet and exercise made one of the great singers； and kept her great for a quarter of a century。 If you adopt it； without variation； you can make a career。 If you do not； you need not hope for anything but failure and humiliation。 Within my knowledge sixty…eight young men and young women have started in on this system。 Not one had the character to persist to success。 This may suggest why； except two who are at the very top； all of the great singers are men and women whom nature has made powerful of body and of digestionso powerful that their indiscretions only occasionally make them unreliable。
There Mildred stopped and flung the paper aside。 She did not care even to glance at the exercises pre… scribed or at the diet and the routine of daily work。 How dull and uninspired！ How grossly material！ Stomach！ Chewing！ Exercising machines！ Plodding dreary miles daily； rain or shine！ What could such things have to do with the free and glorious career of an inspired singer？ Keith was laughing at her as he hastened away； abandoning her to her fate。
She examined herself in the glass to make sure that the ravages of her attack of rage and grief and despair could be effaced within a few hours； then she wrote a noteformal yet friendlyto Stanley Baird； informing him that she would receive him that evening。 He came while Cyrilla and Mildred were having their after； dinner coffee and cigarettes。 He was a man who took great pains with his clothes； and got them where pains was not in vain。 That evening he had arrayed himself with unusual care； and the result was a fine； manly figure of the well…bred New…Yorker type。 Certainly Stanley had ground for his feeling that he deserved and got liking for himself。 The three sat in the library for perhaps half an hour； then Mrs。 Brindley rose to leave the other two alone。 Mildred urged her to stayMildred who had been impatient of her presence when Stanley was announced。 Urged her to stay in such a tone that Cyrilla could not persist； but had to sit down again。 As the three talked on and on； Mildred continued to picture life with Stanleycontinued the vivid picturing she had begun within ten minutes of Stanley's entering； the picturing that had caused her to insist on Cyrilla's remaining as chaperon。 A young girl can do no such picturing as Mildred could not avoid doing。 To the young girl married life； its tete…a…tetes； its intimacies； its routine； are all a blank。 Any attempt she makes to fill in details goes far astray。 But Mildred； with Stanley there before her； could see her life as it would be。
Toward half…past ten； Stanley said； shame…faced and pleading； ‘‘Mildred； I should like to see you alone for just a minute before I go。''
Mildred said to Cyrilla： ‘‘No； don't move。 We'll go into the drawing…room。''
He followed her there； and when the sound of Mrs。 Brindley's step in the hall had died away； he began： ‘‘I think I understand you a little now。 I shan't insult you by returning or destroying that note or the check。 I accept your decisionunless you wish to change it。'' He looked at her with eager appeal。 His heart was trembling； was sick with apprehension； with the sense of weakness； of danger and gloom ahead。 ‘‘Why shouldn't I help you； at least； Mildred？'' he urged。
Whence the courage came she knew not； but through her choking throat she forced a positive； ‘‘No。''
‘‘And；'' he went on； ‘‘I meant what I said。 I love you。 I'm wretched without you。 I want you to marry me； career or no career。''
Her fears were clamorous； but she forced herself to say； ‘‘I can't change。''
‘‘I hopeda littlethat you sent me the note to… day because you You didn't？''
‘‘No；'' said Mildred。 ‘‘I want us to be friends。 But you must keep away。''
He bent his head。 ‘‘Then I'll go 'way off somewhere。 I can't bear being here in New York and not seeing you。 And when I've been away a year or so； perhaps I'll get control of myself again。''
Going away！to try to forget！no doubt； to succeed in forgetting！ Then this was her last chance。
‘‘Must I go； Mildred？ Won't you relent？''
‘‘I don't love youand I never can。'' She was deathly white and trembling。 She lifted her eyes to begin a retreat； for her courage had quite oozed away。 He was looking at her； his face distorted with a mingling of the passion of desire and the passion of jealousy。 She shrank； caught at the back of a chair for support； felt suddenly strong and defiant。 To be this man's plaything； to submit to his moods； to his jealousies； to his capricesto be his to fumble and caress； his to have the fury of his passion wreak itself upon her with no response from her but only repulsion and loathingand the long dreary hours and days and years alone with him； listening to his commonplaces； often so tedious； forced to try to amuse him and to keep him in a good humor because he held the purse… strings
‘‘Please go；'' she said。
She was still very young； still had years and years of youth unspent。 Surely she could find something better than this。 Surely life must mean something more than this。 At least it was worth a trial。
He held out his hand。 She gave him her reluctant and cold fingers。 He said something； what she did not hear； for the blood was roaring in her ears as the room swam round。 He was gone； and the next thing she definitely knew she was at the threshold of Cyrilla's room。 Cyrilla gave her a tenderly sympathetic glance。 She saw herself in a mirror and knew why； her face was gray and drawn； and her eyes lay dully deep within dark circles。
‘‘I couldn't do it；'' she said。 ‘‘I sent for him to marry him。 But I couldn't。''
‘‘I'm glad；'' said Cyrilla。 ‘‘Marriage without love is a last resort。 And you're a long way from last resorts。''
‘‘You don't think I'm crazy？''
‘‘I think you've won a great victory。''
‘‘Victory！'' And Mildred laughed dolefully。 ‘‘If this is victory； I hope I'll never know defeat。''
Why did Mildred refuse Stanley Baird and cut herself off from him； even after her hopes of Donald Keith died through lack of food； real or imaginary？ It would be gratifying to offer this as a case of pure courage and high principle； untainted of the motives which govern ordinary human actions。 But unluckily this is a biography； not a romance； a history and not a eulogy。 And Mildred Gower is a human being； even as you and I； not a galvanized embodiment of superhuman virtues such as you and I are pretending to be； perhaps even to ourselves。 The explanation of her strange aberration； which will be doubted or secretly condemned by every woman of the sheltered classes who loves her dependence and seeks to disguise it as something sweet and fine and ‘‘womanly''the explanation of her almost insane act of renunciation of all that a lady holds most dear is simple enough； puzzling though she found it。 Ignorance； which accounts for so much of the squalid failure in human life； accounts also for much if not all the most splendid audacious achievement。 Very oftenvery； very oftenthe impossibilities are achieved by those who in their ignorance advance not boldly but unconcernedly where a wiser man or woman would shrink and retreat。 Fortunate indeed is he or she who in a crisis is by chance equipped with neither too little nor too much knowledgewho knows enough to enable him to advance； but does not know enough to appreciate how perilous； how foolhardy； how harsh and cruel； advance will be。 Mildred was in this instance thus fortunateunfortunate； she was presently to think it。 She knew enough about loveless marriage to shrink from it。 She did not know enough about what poverty； moneylessness； and friendlessness mean in the actuality to a woman bred as she had been。 She imagined she knewand sick at heart her notion of poverty made her。 But imagination was only faintest foreshadowing of actuality。 If she had known； she would have yielded to the temptation that was almost too strong for her。 And if she had yieldedwhat then？ Not such a repulsive lot； as our comfortable classes look at it。 Plenty to eat and drink and to wear； servants and equipages and fine houses and fine society； the envy of her gaping kinda comfortable life for the body； a comfortable death for mind and heart； slowly and softly suffocated in luxury。 Partly through knowledge that strongly affected her character； which was on the whole aspiring and sensitive beyond the average to the true and the beautiful； partly through ignorance that veiled the future from her none too valorous and hardy heart； she did not yield to the temptation。 And thus； instead of dying； she began to live； for what is life but growth in experience； in strength and knowledge and capability？
A baby enters the world screaming with pain。 The first sensations of living are agonizing。 It is the same with the birth of souls； for a soul is not really born until that day when it is offered choice between life and death and chooses life。 In Mildred Gower's case this birth was an agony。 She awoke the following morning with a dull headache； a fainting heart； and a throat so sore that she felt a painful catch whenever she tried to swallow。 She used the spray； she massaged her throat and neck vigorously。 In vain； it was folly to think of going where she might have to risk a trial of her voice that day。 The sun was brilliant and the air sharp without being humid or too cold。 She dressed； breakfasted； went out for a walk。 The throat grew worse； then better。 She returned for luncheon； and afterward began to think of packing； not that she had chosen a new place； but because she wished to have some sort of a sense of action。 But her unhappiness drove her out againto the park where the air was fine and she could walk in comparative solitude。
‘‘What a silly fool I am！'' thought she。 ‘‘Why did I do this in the worst； the hardest possible way？ I should have held on to Stanley until I had a position。 No； I'm such a poor creature that I could never have done it in that way。 I'd simply have kept on bluffing； fooling myself； putting off an
