忙碌经纪人的浪漫故事

九点半，当雇主和年轻的女速记员一起快步走进来时，经纪人哈维·麦克斯韦办公室里的机要文书皮彻那张平时毫无表情的脸上，掠过了一丝淡淡的兴趣与惊讶之色。

Pitcher, confidential clerk in the office of Harvey Maxwell, broker, allowed a look of mild interest and surprise to visit his usually expressionless countenance when his employer briskly entered at half past nine in company with his young lady stenographer.

麦克斯韦爽快地道了声“早上好，皮彻”，接着便冲向办公桌，仿佛打算直接跳过去似的，随即头也不抬地扎进了等在那里的一大堆信件和电报之中。

With a snappy “Good-morning, Pitcher,” Maxwell dashed at his desk as though he were intending to leap over it, and then plunged into the great heap of letters and telegrams waiting there for him.

这位年轻小姐担任麦克斯韦的速记员已有一年了。她的美貌全然不像寻常的速记员。她摒弃了华丽诱人的高耸发型，身上也没有佩戴任何项链、手镯或盒式小吊坠。

The young lady had been Maxwell’s stenographer for a year. She was beautiful in a way that was decidedly unstenographic. She forewent the pomp of the alluring pompadour. She wore no chains, bracelets or lockets.

她身上毫无那种准备接受午餐邀请的神态。她的衣着是灰色的，十分朴素，却恰如其分、严谨得体地衬托出她的身材。在她整洁的黑色头巾帽上，装饰着一只金绿色金刚鹦鹉的羽翼。

She had not the air of being about to accept an invitation to luncheon. Her dress was grey and plain, but it fitted her figure with fidelity and discretion. In her neat black turban hat was the gold-green wing of a macaw.

在这个早晨，她散发着温柔而羞怯的光彩。她的眼眸泛着梦幻般的光彩，面颊透着天然的桃花粉晕，神情幸福而带着一丝回忆的意味。

On this morning she was softly and shyly radiant. Her eyes were dreamily bright, her cheeks genuine peachblow, her expression a happy one, tinged with reminiscence.

依然带着几分好奇的皮彻注意到她今早的举止有些反常。她没有像往常那样径直走进放着她办公桌的隔壁房间，而是在外间办公室流连徘徊，略显犹豫不决。

Pitcher, still mildly curious, noticed a difference in her ways this morning. Instead of going straight into the adjoining room, where her desk was, she lingered, slightly irresolute, in the outer office.

有一次，她甚至挪到了麦克斯韦的办公桌旁，离得近到足以让他察觉到她的存在。

Once she moved over by Maxwell’s desk, near enough for him to be aware of her presence.

坐在那张桌旁的机器已经不再是一个人；它是一个忙碌的纽约经纪人，由嗡嗡作响的齿轮和不断松开的发条驱动着运转。

The machine sitting at that desk was no longer a man; it was a busy New York broker, moved by buzzing wheels and uncoiling springs.

“嗯——怎么了？有什么事吗？”麦克斯韦语气生硬地问道。他拆开的信件像一堆舞台道具雪花一样摊在拥挤的办公桌上。他那敏锐、冷漠而粗暴的灰色眼睛，带着几分不耐烦地扫了她一眼。

“Well—what is it? Anything?” asked Maxwell sharply. His opened mail lay like a bank of stage snow on his crowded desk. His keen grey eye, impersonal and brusque, flashed upon her half impatiently.

“没事，”速记员回答道，带着淡淡的微笑走开了。

“Nothing,” answered the stenographer, moving away with a little smile.

“皮彻先生，”她对机要文书说，“麦克斯韦先生昨天有没有提过要再雇一位速记员的事？”

“Mr. Pitcher,” she said to the confidential clerk, “did Mr. Maxwell say anything yesterday about engaging another stenographer?”

“提过，”皮彻回答，“他叫我再找一位。我昨天下午通知了中介所，让他们今早送几个候选人过来瞧瞧。现在都九点四十五分了，可连一顶宽檐花帽或者一块菠萝味口香糖的影子都还没见着呢。”

“He did,” answered Pitcher. “He told me to get another one. I notified the agency yesterday afternoon to send over a few samples this morning. It’s 9.45 o’clock, and not a single picture hat or piece of pineapple chewing gum has showed up yet.”

“那我还是照常工作吧，”年轻小姐说，“直到有人来接替这个职位为止。”说完她便立刻走向自己的办公桌，把那顶饰有金绿色金刚鹦鹉羽翼的黑色头巾帽挂在了惯常的位置上。

“I will do the work as usual, then,” said the young lady, “until some one comes to fill the place.” And she went to her desk at once and hung the black turban hat with the gold-green macaw wing in its accustomed place.

凡是不曾见识过曼哈顿经纪人在业务高峰期忙碌景象的人，在人类学这一行里都算不上合格。诗人曾歌颂‘荣耀生命中充实的一小时’。

He who has been denied the spectacle of a busy Manhattan broker during a rush of business is handicapped for the profession of anthropology. The poet sings of the “crowded hour of glorious life.”