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The Voice of the City-Part2_O.Henry(1862-1910)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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jet. Feeling in his pockets to make payment, he

found not a penny there.



"Say, my friend," he explained, frankly, "I've

come out without any change. Hand you that nickel



first time I pass."

Joy surged in Freshmayer's heart. Here was cor-



roboration of his belief that the world was rotten and

man a peripatetic evil. Without a word he rounded



the end of his counter and made earnest onslaught

upon his customer. Hopkins was no man to serve as



a punching-bag for a pessimistic tobacconist. He

quickly bestowed upon Freshmayer a Colorado-



maduro eye in return for the ardent kick that be

received from that dealer in goods for cash only.



The impetus of the enemy's attack forced the

Hopkins line back to the sidewalk. There the con-



flict raged; the pacificwooden Indian, with his

carven smile, was overturned, and those of the street



who delighted in carnage pressed round to view the

zealous joust.



But then came the inevitable cop and imminent

convenience for both the attacker and attacked.



John Hopkins was a peaceful citizen, who worked at

rebuses of nights in a flat, but be was not without the



fundamental spirit of resistance that comes with the

battle-rage. He knocked the policeman into a gro-



cer's sidewalk display of goods and gave Freshmayer

a punch that caused him temporarily to regret that



he had not made it a rule to extend a five-cent line

of credit to certain customers. Then Hopkins took



spiritedly to his heels down the sidewalk, closely fol-

lowed by the cigar-dealer and the policeman, whose



uniform testified to the reason in the grocer's sign

that read: "Eggs cheaper than anywhere else in



the city."

As Hopkins ran he became aware of a big, low,



red, racing automobile that kept abreast of him in

the street. This auto steered in to the side of the



sidewalk, and the man guiding it motioned to Hopkins

to jump into it. He did so without slackening his



speed, and fell into the turkey-red upholstered seat

beside the chauffeur. The big machine, with a dimin-



uendo cough, flew away like an albatross down the

avenue into which the street emptied.



The driver of the auto sped his machine without a

word. He was masked beyond guess in the goggles



and diabolic garb of the chauffeur.

"Much obliged, old man," called Hopkins, grate-



fully. "I guess you've got sporting blood in you,

all right, and don't admire the sight of two men



trying to soak one. Little more and I'd have been

pinched."



The chauffeur made no sign that he had heard.

Hopkins shrugged a shoulder and chewed at his



cigar, to which his teeth had clung grimly through-

out the melee.



Ten minutes and the auto turned into the open

carriage entrance of a noble mansion of brown stone,



and stood still. The chauffeur leaped out, and said:

"Come quick. The lady, she will explain. It is



the great honor you will have, monsieur. Ah, that

milady could call upon Armand to do this thing!



But, no, I am only one chauffeur."

With vehement gestures the chauffeur conducted



Hopkins into the house. He was ushered into a small

but luxuriousreceptionchamber. A lady, young, and



possessing the beauty of visions, rose from a chair.

In her eyes smouldered a becoming anger. Her high-



arched, threadlike brows were ruffled into a delicious

frown.



"Milady," said the chauffeur, bowing low, "I have

the honor to relate to you that I went to the house of



Monsieur Long and found him to be not at home. As

I came back I see this gentleman in combat against



bow you say - greatest odds. He is fighting with




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