villa rubein and other stories-第4节

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known　firm　of　Forsyte　and　Treffry；　teamen；　of　the　Strand；　Constance；

married　to　a　man　called　Decie；　and　Margaret；　at　her　father's　death

engaged　to　the　curate　of　the　parish；　John　Devorell；　who　shortly

afterwards　became　its　rector。　　By　his　marriage　with　Margaret　Treffry

the　rector　had　one　child　called　Christian。　　Soon　after　this　he　came

into　some　property；　and　died；　leaving　it　unfettered　to　his　widow。

Three　years　went　by；　and　when　the　child　was　six　years　old；　Mrs。

Devorell；　still　young　and　pretty；　came　to　live　in　London　with　her

brother　Nicholas。　　It　was　there　that　she　met　Paul　von　Morawitzthe

last　of　an　old　Czech　family；　who　had　lived　for　many　hundred　years　on

their　estates　near　Budweiss。　　Paul　had　been　left　an　orphan　at　the　age

of　ten；　and　without　a　solitary　ancestral　acre。　　Instead　of　acres；　he

inherited　the　faith　that　nothing　was　too　good　for　a　von　Morawitz。　　In

later　years　his　savoir　faire　enabled　him　to　laugh　at　faith；　but　it

stayed　quietly　with　him　all　the　same。　　The　absence　of　acres　was　of　no

great　consequence；　for　through　his　mother；　the　daughter　of　a　banker

in　Vienna；　he　came　into　a　well…nursed　fortune。　　It　befitted　a　von

Morawitz　that　he　should　go　into　the　Cavalry；　but；　unshaped　for

soldiering；　he　soon　left　the　Service；　some　said　he　had　a　difference

with　his　Colonel　over　the　quality　of　food　provided　during　some

manoeuvres；　others　that　he　had　retired　because　his　chargers　did　not

fit　his　legs；　which　were；　indeed；　rather　round。



He　had　an　admirable　appetite　for　pleasure；　a　man…about…town's　life

suited　him。　　He　went　his　genial；　unreflecting；　costly　way　in　Vienna；

Paris；　London。　　He　loved　exclusively　those　towns；　and　boasted　that　he

was　as　much　at　home　in　one　as　in　another。　　He　combined　exuberant

vitality　with　fastidiousness　of　palate；　and　devoted　both　to　the

acquisition　of　a　special　taste　in　women；　weeds；　and　wines；　above　all

he　was　blessed　with　a　remarkable　digestion。　　He　was　thirty　when　he

met　Mrs。　Devorell；　and　she　married　him　because　he　was　so　very

different　from　anybody　she　had　ever　seen。　　People　more　dissimilar

were　never　mated。　　To　Paulaccustomed　to　stage　doorsfreshness；

serene　tranquillity；　and　obvious　purity　were　the　baits；　he　had　run

through　more　than　half　his　fortune；　too；　and　the　fact　that　she　had

money　was　possibly　not　overlooked。　　Be　that　as　it　may；　he　was　fond　of

her；　his　heart　was　soft；　he　developed　a　domestic　side。



Greta　was　born　to　them　after　a　year　of　marriage。　　The　instinct　of　the

〃freeman〃　was；　however；　not　dead　in　Paul；　he　became　a　gambler。　　He

lost　the　remainder　of　his　fortune　without　being　greatly　disturbed。

When　he　began　to　lose　his　wife's　fortune　too　things　naturally　became

more　difficult。　　Not　too　much　remained　when　Nicholas　Treffry　stepped

in；　and　caused　his　sister　to　settle　what　was　left　on　her　daughters；

after　providing　a　life…interest　for　herself　and　Paul。　　Losing　his

supplies；　the　good　man　had　given　up　his　cards。　　But　the　instinct　of

the　〃freeman〃　was　still　living　in　his　breast；　he　took　to　drink。　　He

was　never　grossly　drunk；　and　rarely　very　sober。　　His　wife　sorrowed

over　this　new　passion；　her　health；　already　much　enfeebled；　soon　broke

down。　　The　doctors　sent　her　to　the　Tyrol。　　She　seemed　to　benefit　by

this；　and　settled　down　at　Botzen。　　The　following　year；　when　Greta　was

just　ten；　she　died。　　It　was　a　shock　to　Paul。　　He　gave　up　excessive

drinking；　became　a　constant　smoker；　and　lent　full　rein　to　his　natural

domesticity。　　He　was　fond　of　both　the　girls；　but　did　not　at　all

understand　them；　Greta；　his　own　daughter；　was　his　favourite。　　Villa

Rubein　remained　their　home；　it　was　cheap　and　roomy。　　Money；　since

Paul　became　housekeeper　to　himself；　was　scarce。



About　this　time　Mrs。　Decie；　his　wife's　sister；　whose　husband　had　died

in　the　East；　returned　to　England；　Paul　invited　her　to　come　and　live

with　them。　　She　had　her　own　rooms；　her　own　servant；　the　arrangement

suited　Paulit　was　economically　sound；　and　there　was　some　one　always

there　to　take　care　of　the　girls。　　In　truth　he　began　to　feel　the

instinct　of　the　〃freeman〃　rising　again　within　him；　it　was　pleasant　to

run　over　to　Vienna　now　and　then；　to　play　piquet　at　a　Club　in　Gries；

of　which　he　was　the　shining　light；　in　a　word；　to　go　〃on　the　tiles〃　a

little。　　One　could　not　always　mourneven　if　a　woman　were　an　angel；

moreover；　his　digestion　was　as　good　as　ever。



The　fourth　quarter　of　this　Villa　was　occupied　by　Nicholas　Treffry；

whose　annual　sojourn　out　of　England　perpetually　surprised　himself。

Between　him　and　his　young　niece；　Christian；　there　existed；　however；　a

rare　sympathy；　one　of　those　affections　between　the　young　and　old；

which；　mysteriously　born　like　everything　in　life；　seems　the　only　end

and　aim　to　both；　till　another　feeling　comes　into　the　younger　heart。



Since　a　long　and　dangerous　illness；　he　had　been　ordered　to　avoid　the

English　winter；　and　at　the　commencement　of　each　spring　he　would

appear　at　Botzen；　driving　his　own　horses　by　easy　stages　from　the

Italian　Riviera；　where　he　spent　the　coldest　months。　　He　always　stayed

till　June　before　going　back　to　his　London　Club；　and　during　all　that

time　he　let　no　day　pass　without　growling　at　foreigners；　their　habits；

food；　drink；　and　raiment；　with　a　kind　of　big　dog's　growling　that　did

nobody　any　harm。　　The　illness　had　broken　him　very　much；　he　was

seventy；　but　looked　more。　　He　had　a　servant；　a　Luganese；　named

Dominique；　devoted　to　him。　　Nicholas　Treffry　had　found　him　overworked

in　an　hotel；　and　had　engaged　him　with　the　caution：　〃Lookhere；

Dominique！　I　swear！〃　　To　which　Dominique；　dark　of　feature；　saturnine

and　ironical；　had　only　replied：　〃Tres　biens；　M'sieur！〃









III



Harz　and　his　host　sat　in　leather　chairs；　Herr　Paul's　square　back　was

wedged　into　a　cushion；　his　round　legs　crossed。　　Both　were　smoking；

and　they　eyed　each　other　furtively；　as　men　of　different　stamp　do　when

first　thrown　together。　　The　young　artist　found　his　host　extremely　new

and　disconcerting；　in　his　presence　he　felt　both　shy　and　awkward。

Herr　Paul；　on　the　other　hand；　very　much　at　ease；　was　thinking

indolently：



'Good…looking　young　fellowcomes　of　the　people；　I　expect；　not　at　all

the　manner　of　the　world；　wonder　what　he　talks　about。'



Presently　noticing　that　Harz　was　looking　at　a　photograph；　he　said：

〃Ah！　yes！　that　was　a　woman！　　They　are　not　to　be　found　in　these　days。

She　could　dance；　the　little　Coralie！　　Did　you　ever　see　such　arms？

Confess　that　she　is　beautiful；　hein？〃



〃She　has　individuality；〃　said　Harz。　　〃A　fine　type！〃



Herr　Paul　blew　out　a　cloud　of　smoke。



〃Yes；〃　he　murmured；　〃she　was　fine　all　over！〃　　He　had　dropped　his

eyeglasses；　and　his　full　brown　eyes；　with　little　crow's…feet　at　the

corners；　wandered　from　his　visitor　to　his　cigar。



'He'd　be　like　a　Satyr　if　he　wasn't　too　clean；'　thought　Harz。　　'Put

vine　leaves　in　his　hair；　paint　him　asleep；　with　his　hands　crossed；

so！'



〃When　I　am　told　a　person　has　individuality；〃　Herr　Paul　was　saying　in

a　rich　and　husky　voice；　〃I　generally　expect　boots　that　bulge；　an

umbrella　of　improper　colour；　I　expect　a　creature　of　'bad　form'　as

they　say　in　England；　who　will　shave　some　days　and　some　days　will　not

shave；　who　sometimes　smells　of　India…rubber；　and　sometimes　does　not

smell；　which　is　discouraging！〃



〃You　do　not　approve　of　individuality？〃　said　Harz　shortly。



〃Not　if　it　means　doing；　and　thinking；　as　those　who　know　better　do　not

do；　or　think。〃



〃And　who　are　those　who　know　better？〃



〃Ah！　my　dear；　you　are　asking　me　a　riddle？　　Well；　thenSociety；　men

of　birth；　men　of　recognised　position；　men　above　eccentricity；　in　a

word；　of　reputation。〃



Harz　looked　at　him　fixedly。　　〃Men　who　haven't　the　courage　of　their

own　ideas；　not　even　the　courage　to　smell　of　India…rubber；　men　who

have　no　desires；　and　so　can　spend　all　their　time　making　themselves

flat！〃



Herr　Paul　drew　out　a　red　silk　handkerchief　and　wiped　his　beard。　　〃I

assure　you；　my　dear；〃　he　said；　〃it　is　easier　to　be　flat；　it　is　more

respectable　to　be　flat。　　Himmel！　why　not；　then；　be　flat？〃



〃Like　any　common　fellow？〃



〃Certes；　like　any　common　fellowlike　me；　par　exemple！〃　　Herr　Paul

waved　his　hand。　　When　he　exercised　unusual　tact；　he　always　made　use

of　a　French　expression。



Harz　flushed。　　Herr　Paul　followed　up　his　victory。　　〃Come；　come！〃　he

said。　　〃Pass　me　my　men　of　repute！　que　diable！　we　are　not　anarchists。〃



〃Are　you　sure？〃　said　Harz。



Herr　Paul　twisted　his　moustache。　　〃I　beg　your　pardon；〃　he　said

slowly。　　But　at　this　moment　the　door　was　opened；　a　rumbling　voice

remarked：　〃Morning；　Paul。　　Who's　your　visitor？〃　　Harz　saw　a　tall；

bulky　figure　in　the　doorway。



〃Come　in；〃'　called　out　Herr　Paul。　　〃Let　me　present　to　you　a　new

acquaintance；　an　artist：　Herr　HarzMr。　Nicholas　Treffry。　　Psumm

bumm！　All　this　introducing　is　dry　work。〃　　And　going　to　the　sideboard

he　poured　out　three　glasses　of　a　light；　foaming　beer。



Mr。　Treffry　waved　it　from　him：　〃Not　for　me；〃　he　said：　〃Wish　I　could！

They　won't　let