the grey room(灰房间)-第43节
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on the track of a crime。 Nevertheless； Sir Walter's interest increased as
the hour approached for their return home。 Only when that was decided
did he discover how much he longed to be there。 For the horror and
suffering of the past were a little dimmed already； he thirsted to see his
woods and meadows in their vernal dress； to hear the murmur of his river；
and move again among familiar voices and familiar paths。
Chadlands welcomed them on a rare evening of May； and the very
genuine joy of his people moved Sir Walter not a little。 Henry Lennox
was already arrived； and deeply interested to read the Italian's letter。 He
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and Mary walked presently in the gardens and he found her changed。
She spoke more slowly； laughed not at all。 But she had welcomed him
with affection； and been interested to learn all that he had to tell her of
himself。
〃I felt that it would disappoint you to be stopped at the last moment；〃
she said； 〃but I knew the reason would satisfy you well enough。 I feel
hopeful somehow； father does not。 Yet it is hope mixed with fear； for
Signor Mannetti speaks of a great crime。〃
〃A vain theory； I'm afraid。 Tell me about yourself。 You are well？〃
〃Yes； very well。 You must come to Italy some day； Henry； and let me
show you the wonderful things I have seen。〃
〃I should dearly love it。 I'm such a Goth。 But it's only brutal
laziness。 I want to take up art and understand a little of what it really
matters。〃
〃You have it in you。 Are you writing any more poetry？〃
〃Nothing worth showing you。〃
She exercised the old fascination； but he indulged in no hope of the
future。 He knew what her husband had been to Mary； despite the
shortness of their union； and； rightly； he felt positive that she would never
marry again。
A mournful spectacle appeared； drawn by the sound of well…known
voices； and the old spaniel； Prince； crept to Mary's feet。 He offered
feeble homage； and she made much of him； but the dog had sunk to a
shadow。
〃He must be put away； poor old beggar； it's cruel to keep him alive。
Only Masters said he was determined he should not go while Uncle Walter
was abroad。 Masters has been a mother to him。〃
〃Tell father that； he may blame Masters for letting him linger on like
this。 He rather hoped； I know； that poor Prince would be painlessly
destroyed； or die； before he came back。〃
〃Masters would never have let him die unless directed to do so。〃
〃And I'm sure father could never have written the words down and
posted them。 You know father。〃
Letters awaited the returned travellers； one from Colonel Vane； who
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described his meeting with Signor Mannetti； and hoped something might
come of it； and another from the stranger himself。 He expressed
satisfaction at his invitation； and proposed arriving at Chadlands on the
following Monday； unless directions reached him to the contrary。
When the time came； Sir Walter himself went into Exeter to meet his
guest and bring him back by motor…car。 At first sight of the signor； his
host experienced a slight shock of astonishment to mark the Italian's age。
For Vergilio Mannetti was an ancient man。 He had been tall； but now
stooped； and； though not decrepit； yet he needed assistance； and was
accompanied and attended by a middle…aged Italian。 The traveller
displayed a distinguished bearing。 He had a brown； clean…shaved face；
the skin of which appeared to have shrunk rather than wrinkled； yet no
suggestion of a mummy accompanied this physical accident。 His hair
was still plentiful； and white as snow； his dark eyes were undimmed； and
proved not only brilliant but wonderfully keen。 He told them more than
once； and indeed proved； that behind large glasses； that lent an owl…like
expression to his face； his long sight was unimpaired。 His rather round
face sparkled with intelligence and humor。
He owned to eighty years； yet presented an amazing vitality and a keen
interest in life and its fulness。 The old man had played the looker…on at
human existence； and seemed to know as much； if not more； of the game
than the players。 He confessed to this attitude and blamed himself for it。
〃I have never done a stroke of honest work in my life；〃 he said。 〃I was
born with the silver spoon in my mouth。 Alas； I have been amazingly
lazy； it was my metier to look on。 I ought； at least； to have written a
book； but then all the things I wanted to say have been so exquisitely said
by Count Gobineau in his immortal volumes； that I should only have been
an echo。 The world is too full of echoes as it is。 Believe me； if I had
been called to work for my living； I should have cut a respectable figure；
for I have an excellent brain。〃
〃You know England； signor7〃
〃When I tell you that I married an English…woman； and that both my
sons have English blood in their veins； you will realize the sincerity of my
devotion。 My dear wife was a Somerset。〃
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Mary May always declared that the old Italian won her heart and even
awakened something akin to affection before she had known him half an
hour。 There was a fascination in his admixture of childish simplicity and
varied knowledge。 None； indeed； could resist his gracious humor and
old…world courtesies。 The old man could be simple and ingenuous； too；
but only when it pleased him so to be； and it was not the second
childishness of age； for his intellect remained keen and moved far more
swiftly than any at Chadlands。 But he was modest and loved a jest。 The
hand of time had indeed touched him； and sometimes his memory broke
down and he faltered with a verbal difficulty； but this only appeared to
happen when he was weary。
〃The morning is my good time；〃 he told them。 〃You will； I fear； find
me a stupid old fellow after dinner。〃
Signor Mannetti proved a tremendous talker； and implicitly revealed
that he belonged to the nobility of his country； and that he enjoyed the
friendship of many notable men。 The subject of his visit was not
mentioned on the day of his arrival。 He spoke only of Italy； laughed to
think he had passed through Florence to seek Sir Walter in England； and
then； finding his hostess a neophyte at the shrines of art； attuned himself to
the subject for her benefit。
〃If you found pictures answer to an unknown need within yourself；
that is very well；〃 he declared。 〃About music I know little； but
concerning painting a great deal。 And you desire to know； too； I see。
The spirit is willing； but the spirit probably does not know yet what lies in
front of it。 You are groping … blind； childlike … without a hand to guard
and an authority to guide。 That is merely to waste time。 When you go
back to Italy； you must begin at the beginning； if you are in earnest … not at
the middle。 Only ignorance measures art in terms of skill； for there are
no degrees in art。 None has transcended Giotto； because technique and
draughtsmanship are accidents of time； they lie outside the soul of the
matter。 Art is in fact a static thing。 It changes as the face of the sea
changes； from hour to hour； but it does not progress。 There are great and
small artists and great and small movements； as there are great and small
waves； brisk breezes and terrific tempests； but all
