Famous short story collection (abbreviated edition)

Author: G. C. Sorely
Rewritten and Translated by: Chen Yanjia
Country: United Kingdom
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-11-01
Features: One morning, on his way to Laura's home in Holland Park, he stopped by to visit his good friend Alan Trevelyan. Trevelyan was a painter. Yes, everyone called themselves a painter these days. But he was truly an artist—artists were quite rare. He was a man covered in freckles, with a coarse red beard, and had a strange, rough personality. But once he picked up a brush, he became a master. His paintings were often quickly noticed and bought. It had to be admitted, Hughie had been deeply attracted by his personal charm at first. "A painter should make friends with those who are beautiful and have an artistic charm," Trevelyan always said, "and those who make you feel relaxed when you talk to them. The masters of the world are the well-dressed men and lovely women—at least, they should be." As he got to know Hughie better, he liked his bright, cheerful disposition and his generous, careless nature, and welcomed his visits at any time. As soon as Hughie entered, he noticed that Trevelyan's new work was almost finished. It was a life-sized painting of a beggar. The beggar himself was standing in a raised area in the corner of the room, like a stage. He was a withered, wrinkled old man with a sorrowful expression. He wore a rough, tattered brown coat on his shoulders, full of holes, and his big boots were patched and patched. He leaned on a clumsy, rough walking stick with one hand and clutched a ragged hat in the other, extending it forward to beg. "What an amazing model!" Hughie whispered as he shook hands with his friend. "An amazing model!" Trevelyan exclaimed loudly. "I should have thought so. Such a beggar isn’t seen every day. Good heavens! What kind of painting would Rembrandt do of him?" "Poor old man!" Hughie said. "His face is so miserable! But I suppose, for painters like you, this face is quite valuable!" Over the broken fence, he saw that it was actually a very nice little garden, worth a closer look. He opened the gate and walked in. A dog lying behind a bucket opened one eye to watch him. It was a curly-haired dog, cold and suspicious, like a businessman looking at someone who wanted to cheat him. Lord Emsworth didn’t pay attention to the dog. He walked up to some flowers, bent down, and sniffed them. The dog seemed to think this was a crime. It shot up like lightning. In an instant, barking filled the air, while Lord Emsworth’s mind went blank, only thinking of saving his two legs from harm. He didn’t know how to deal with a strange dog, except to say, "Get away, sir," and jump around in a way that didn’t suit his age. At that moment, the door of the cottage opened, and a girl came out. "Hey!" the girl exclaimed. Immediately, with her soft call, the dog stopped attacking and rushed toward her, lying flat on its back at her feet. The scene reminded Lord Emsworth of his behavior in front of Angus McAlister. The children of Bramblethorpe were generally quite obedient and not very mischievous. Of course, there were always some troublemakers in every village—in Bramblethorpe, the first troublemakers people thought of were Willie Drake and Thomas Brunkleton—but most of the local children could still be controlled. What made this outing so chaotic was the addition of the London children. The London children had a careless nature that their rural cousins didn’t have. Years of tense relationships with their irritable parents and the quick reflexes trained as a result had long since overcome their innate indecisiveness. The result was that as soon as they spotted something they liked, they reached for it immediately; and when they found something amusing about the members of the ruling class, they spoke it out loud without hesitation. They jumped around the long dining table, loudly discussing the teeth of one of their teachers. Lord Emsworth was usually not very quick-witted, but at that moment, he seemed to realize that it would be wise to take off his top hat before the little guests noticed it. However, this action was already unnecessary. Just as he raised his hand to take off the hat, a piece of cake flew through the air and knocked it off his head. Lord Emsworth had had enough. Even unreasonable Constance didn’t expect him to keep smiling and stay put in such a situation. All sense of civilization and decorum was forgotten. Lord Emsworth slowly walked out and left.