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the fortune hunter(闯世界的人)-第2部分

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Liebers and Sophie; with whom she had come; did not dare interrupt her 

pleasure; but had to stay; yawning and cross; until the last strain of Home; 

Sweet Home。 

     At parting he pressed her hand。            ‘‘I have been happy;'' he murmured 

in   a   tone   which   said;   ‘‘Mine   is   a   sorrow…shadowed   soul   that   has   rarely 

tasted happiness。'' 

     She glanced up at him with ingenuous feeling in her eyes and managed 

to stammer:       ‘‘I hope we'll meet again。'' 

     ‘‘Couldn't I come down to see you Sunday evening?'' 

     ‘‘There's a concert in the Square。          If you're there I might see you。'' 

     ‘‘Until    Sunday     night;''  he   said;   and   made    her   feel   that  the   three 

intervening days would be for him three eternities。 

     She   thought   of   him   all   the   way   home   in   the   car;   and   until   she   fell 

asleep。     His   sonorous   name   was   in   her   mind   when   she   awoke   in   the 

morning; and; as she stood in the store that day; waiting on the customers; 

she   looked   often   at   the   door;   and;   with   the   childhood…surviving   faith   of 

youth in the improbable and impossible; hoped that he would appear。                      For 

the first time she was definitely discontented with her lot; was definitely 

fascinated by the idea that there might be something higher and finer than 

the   simple   occupations   and   simple   enjoyments   which   had   filled   her   life 

thus far。 

       In   the   evening   after   supper   her   father   and   mother   left   her   and   her 

brother August in charge; and took their usual stroll                for exercise and for 

the   profound   delight   of   a   look   at   their   flat…housesthose   reminders   of 



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                                   THE FORTUNE HUNTER 



many years of toil and thrift。         They had spent their youth; she as cook; he 

as helper; in one of New York's earliest delicatessen shops。                   When they 

had saved three thousand dollars they married and put into effect the plan 

which   had   been   their   chief   subject   of   conversation   every  day  and   every 

evening for ten years they opened the ‘‘delicatessen'' in Avenue A; near 

Second Street。        They lived in two back rooms; they toiled early and late 

for twenty…three contented; cheerful years she in the shop when she was 

not   doing   the   housework   or   caring   for   the   babies;   he   in   the   great   clean 

cellar;   where   the   cooking   and   cabbage…cutting   and   pickling   and   spicing 

were   done。      And   now;   owners   of   three   houses   that   brought   in   eleven 

thousand   a   year   clear;   they   were   about   to   retire。 They   had   fixed   on   a 

place in the      Bronx; in the East Side; of course; with a big garden; where 

every kind of gay flower and good vegetable could be grown; and an arbor 

where there could be pinochle; beer and coffee on Sunday afternoons。                      In 

a   sentence;   they   were   honorable   and   exemplary   members   of   that   great 

mass of humanity which has the custody of the present and the future of 

the   racethose   who   live   by   the   sweat   of   their   own   brows   or   their   own 

brains; and train their children to do likewise; those who maintain the true 

ideals of happiness and progress; those from whom spring all the workers 

and all the leaders of thought and action。 

     They     walked    slowly    up   the   Avenue;     speaking    to  their   neighbors; 

pausing now and then for a joke or to pat a baby on the head; until they 

were within two blocks of Tompkins Square。                 They stopped before a five… 

story   tenement;   evidently   the      dwelling…place   of   substantial;      intelligent; 

self…respecting artisans and their families; leading the natural life of busy 

usefulness。      In its first floor was a delicatessen the sign read ‘‘Schwartz 

and Heilig。'' Paul Brauner pointed with his long… stemmed pipe at the one 

show…window。 

     ‘‘Fine;   isn't   it? Beautiful!'' he   exclaimed   in   Low…Germanthey  and 

almost all their friends spoke Low…German; and used English only when 

they could not avoid it。 

     The    window      certainly   was    well   arranged。     Only    a  merchant      who 

knew   his   business   thoroughlyboth   his   wares   and   his   customerscould 



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                                   THE FORTUNE HUNTER 



have   thus   displayed   cooked   chickens;   hams   and   tongues;   the   imported 

sausages and fish; the jelly…inclosed paste of chicken livers; the bottles and 

jars of pickled or spiced meats and vegetables and fruits。                 The spectacle 

was adroitly arranged to move the hungry to yearning; the filled to regret; 

and the dyspeptic to rage and remorse。            And behind the show…window lay 

a shop   whose shelves;  counters   and   floor   were   clean   as   toil   could   make 

and keep them; and whose air was saturated with the most delicious odors。 

     Mrs。     Brauner     nodded。      ‘‘Heilig     was    up   at  half…past    four   this 

morning;''     she   said。   ‘‘He     cleans   out   every    morning     and   he   moves 

everything   twice   a   week。''     She   had   a   round;   honest   face   that   was   an 

inspiring study in simplicity; sense and sentiment。 

     ‘‘What a worker!'' was her husband's comment。                  ‘‘So unlike most of 

the young men nowadays。            If August were only like him!'' 

     ‘‘You'd   think   Heilig   was   a   drone   if   he   were   your   son;''   replied   Mrs。 

Brauner。      She knew that if any one else had dared thus to attack their boy; 

his father would have been growling and snapping like an angry bear。 

     ‘‘That's     right!''  he   retorted   with    mock      scorn。     ‘‘Defend      your 

children!     You'll be excusing Hilda for putting off Heilig next。'' 

     ‘‘She'll    marry    himgive     her   time;''  said   Mrs。    Brauner。      ‘‘She's 

romantic; but she's sensible; toowhy; she was born to make a good wife 

to   a   hard…working   man。      Where's   there   another   woman   that   knows   the 

business as she does?         You admit on her birthdays that she's the only real 

helper you ever had。'' 

     ‘‘Except you;'' said her husband。 

     ‘‘Never      mind     me。''     Mrs。     Brauner     pretended      to   disdain    the 

compliment。 

     Brauner   understood;   however。         ‘‘We   have   had   the   best;   you   and   I;'' 

said he。 

     ‘‘Arbeit und Liebe und Heim。            Nicht wahr?'' Otto Heilig appeared in 

his doorway and greeted them awkwardly。                Nor did their cordiality lessen 

his embarrassment。         His pink and white skin was rosy red and his frank 

blue…gray      eyes   shifted     uneasily。     But     he   was    smiling    with   eager 

friendliness; showing even; sound; white teeth。 



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                                   THE FORTUNE HUNTER 



     ‘‘You    are   coming     to  see  us   to…morrow?''     asked    Mrs。   Braunerhe 

always called on Sunday afternoons and stayed until five; when he had to 

open shop for the Sunday supper rush。 

     ‘‘Whythat isnot exactlyno;'' he stammered。               Hilda had told him 

not to come; but he knew that if he admitted it to her parents they would 

be severe with her。        He didn't like anybody to be severe with Hilda; and 

he felt that their way of helping his courtship was not suited to the modern 

ideas。    ‘‘They make her hate me;'' he often muttered。               But if he resented 

it   he   would   offend   them  and   Hilda   too;   if   he   acquiesced   he   encouraged 

them and added to Hilda's exasperation。 

     Mrs。 Brauner knew at once that Hilda was in some way the cause of 

the break in      the custom。      ‘‘Oh; you must come;'' she said。           ‘‘We'd feel 

strange all week if we didn't see you on Sunday。'' 

     ‘‘YesI must have my cards;'' insisted Brauner。              He and Otto always 

played pinochle; Otto's eyes most of the time and his thoughts all the time 

were   on   Hilda;   in   the   corner;   at   the   zither;   playing   the   maddest;   most 

romantic music; her father therefore usually won; poor at the game though 

he was。     It made him cross to lose; and Otto sometimes defeated his own 

luck deliberately when love refused to do it for him。 

     ‘‘Very well; thenthat isif I can I'll try to come。'' 

     Several customers pushed past him into his shop and he had to rejoin 

his partner; Schwartz; behind the counters。             Brauner and his wife walked 

slowly homeit was late and there would be more business than
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