villa rubein and other stories-第7节

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〃It's　my　country　up　there。　　I　was　born　amongst　the　mountains。　　I

looked　after　the　cows；　and　slept　in　hay…cocks；　and　cut　the　trees　in

winter。　　They　used　to　call　me　a　'black　sheep；'　a　'loafer'　in　my

village。〃



〃Why？〃



〃Ah！　why？　　I　worked　as　hard　as　any　of　them。　　But　I　wanted　to　get

away。　　Do　you　think　I　could　have　stayed　there　all　my　life？〃



Christian's　eyes　grew　eager。



〃If　people　don't　understand　what　it　is　you　want　to　do；　they　always

call　you　a　loafer！〃　muttered　Harz。



〃But　you　did　what　you　meant　to　do　in　spite　of　them；〃　Christian　said。



For　herself　it　was　so　hard　to　finish　or　decide。　　When　in　the　old　days

she　told　Greta　stories；　the　latter；　whose　instinct　was　always　for　the

definite；　would　say：　〃And　what　came　at　the　end；　Chris？　　Do　finish　it

this　morning！〃　but　Christian　never　could。　　Her　thoughts　were　deep；

vague；　dreamy；　invaded　by　both　sides　of　every　question。　　Whatever　she

did；　her　needlework；　her　verse…making；　her　painting；　all　had　its

charm；　but　it　was　not　always　what　it　was　intended　for　at　the

beginning。　　Nicholas　Treffry　had　once　said　of　her：　〃When　Chris　starts

out　to　make　a　hat；　it　may　turn　out　an　altar…cloth；　but　you　may　bet　it

won't　be　a　hat。〃　　It　was　her　instinct　to　look　for　what　things　meant；

and　this　took　more　than　all　her　time。　　She　knew　herself　better　than

most　girls　of　nineteen；　but　it　was　her　reason　that　had　informed　her；

not　her　feelings。　　In　her　sheltered　life；　her　heart　had　never　been

ruffled　except　by　rare　fits　of　passion〃tantrums〃　old　Nicholas

Treffry　dubbed　themat　what　seemed　to　her　mean　or　unjust。



〃If　I　were　a　man；〃　she　said；　〃and　going　to　be　great；　I　should　have

wanted　to　begin　at　the　very　bottom　as　you　did。〃



〃Yes；〃　said　Harz　quickly；　〃one　should　be　able　to　feel　everything。〃



She　did　not　notice　how　simply　he　assumed　that　he　was　going　to　be

great。　　He　went　on；　a　smile　twisting　his　mouth　unpleasantly　beneath

its　dark　moustache



〃Not　many　people　think　like　you！　It's　a　crime　not　to　have　been　born　a

gentleman。〃



〃That's　a　sneer；〃　said　Christian；　〃I　didn't　think　you　would　have

sneered！〃



〃It　is　true。　　What　is　the　use　of　pretending　that　it　isn't？〃



〃It　may　be　true；　but　it　is　finer　not　to　say　it！〃



〃By　Heavens！〃　said　Harz；　striking　one　hand　into　the　other；　〃if　more

truth　were　spoken　there　would　not　be　so　many　shams。〃



Christian　looked　down　at　him　from　her　seat　on　the　stile。



〃You　are　right　all　the　same；　Fraulein　Christian；〃　he　added　suddenly；

〃that's　a　very　little　business。　　Work　is　what　matters；　and　trying　to

see　the　beauty　in　the　world。〃



Christian's　face　changed。　　She　understood；　well　enough；　this　craving

after　beauty。　　Slipping　down　from　the　stile；　she　drew　a　slow　deep

breath。



〃Yes！〃　she　said。　　Neither　spoke　for　some　time；　then　Harz　said　shyly：



〃If　you　and　Fraulein　Greta　would　ever　like　to　come　and　see　my　studio；

I　should　be　so　happy。　　I　would　try　and　clean　it　up　for　you！〃



〃I　should　like　to　come。　　I　could　learn　something。　　I　want　to　learn。〃



They　were　both　silent　till　the　path　joined　the　road。



〃We　must　be　in　front　of　the　others；　it's　nice　to　be　in　frontlet's

dawdle。　　I　forgotyou　never　dawdle；　Herr　Harz。〃



〃After　a　big　fit　of　work；　I　can　dawdle　against　any　one；　then　I　get

another　fit　of　workit's　like　appetite。〃



〃I'm　always　dawdling；〃　answered　Christian。



By　the　roadside　a　peasant　woman　screwed　up　her　sun…dried　face；　saying

in　a　low　voice：　〃Please；　gracious　lady；　help　me　to　lift　this　basket！〃



Christian　stooped；　but　before　she　could　raise　it；　Harz　hoisted　it　up

on　his　back。



〃All　right；〃　he　nodded；　〃this　good　lady　doesn't　mind。〃



The　woman；　looking　very　much　ashamed；　walked　along　by　Christian；　she

kept　rubbing　her　brown　hands　together；　and　saying；　〃Gracious　lady；　I

would　not　have　wished。　　It　is　heavy；　but　I　would　not　have　wished。〃



〃I'm　sure　he'd　rather　carry　it；〃　said　Christian。



They　had　not　gone　far　along　the　road；　however；　before　the　others

passed　them　in　a　carriage；　and　at　the　strange　sight　Miss　Naylor　could

be　seen　pursing　her　lips；　Cousin　Teresa　nodding　pleasantly；　a　smile

on　Dawney's　face；　and　beside　him　Greta；　very　demure。　　Harz　began　to

laugh。



〃What　are　you　laughing　at？〃　asked　Christian。



〃You　English　are　so　funny。　　You　mustn't　do　this　here；　you　mustn't　do

that　there；　it's　like　sitting　in　a　field　of　nettles。　　If　I　were　to

walk　with　you　without　my　coat；　that　little　lady　would　fall　off　her

seat。〃　　His　laugh　infected　Christian；　they　reached　the　station

feeling　that　they　knew　each　other　better。



The　sun　had　dipped　behind　the　mountains　when　the　little　train　steamed

down　the　valley。　　All　were　subdued；　and　Greta；　with　a　nodding　head；

slept　fitfully。　　Christian；　in　her　corner；　was　looking　out　of　the

window；　and　Harz　kept　studying　her　profile。



He　tried　to　see　her　eyes。　　He　had　remarked　indeed　that；　whatever

their　expression；　the　brows；　arched　and　rather　wide　apart；　gave　them

a　peculiar　look　of　understanding。　　He　thought　of　his　picture。　　There

was　nothing　in　her　face　to　seize　on；　it　was　too　sympathetic；　too　much

like　light。　　Yet　her　chin　was　firm；　almost　obstinate。



The　train　stopped　with　a　jerk；　she　looked　round　at　him。　　It　was　as

though　she　had　said：　〃You　are　my　friend。〃



At　Villa　Rubein；　Herr　Paul　had　killed　the　fatted　calf　for　Greta's

Fest。　　When　the　whole　party　were　assembled；　he　alone　remained

standing；　and　waving　his　arm　above　the　cloth；　cried：　〃My　dears！　Your

happiness！　　There　are　good　things　hereCome！〃　　And　with　a　sly　look；

the　air　of　a　conjurer　producing　rabbits；　he　whipped　the　cover　off　the

soup　tureen：



〃Soup…turtle；　fat；　green　fat！〃　　He　smacked　his　lips。



No　servants　were　allowed；　because；　as　Greta　said　to　Harz：



〃It　is　that　we　are　to　be　glad　this　evening。〃



Geniality　radiated　from　Herr　Paul's　countenance；　mellow　as　a　bowl　of

wine。　　He　toasted　everybody；　exhorting　them　to　pleasure。



Harz　passed　a　cracker　secretly　behind　Greta's　head；　and　Miss　Naylor；

moved　by　a　mysterious　impulse；　pulled　it　with　a　sort　of　gleeful

horror；　it　exploded；　and　Greta　sprang　off　her　chair。　　Scruff；　seeing

this；　appeared　suddenly　on　the　sideboard　with　his　forelegs　in　a　plate

of　soup；　without　moving　them；　he　turned　his　head；　and　appeared　to

accuse　the　company　of　his　false　position。　　It　was　the　signal　for

shrieks　of　laughter。　　Scruff　made　no　attempt　to　free　his　forelegs；

but　sniffed　the　soup；　and　finding　that　nothing　happened；　began　to　lap

it。



〃Take　him　out！　Oh！　take　him　out！〃　wailed　Greta；　〃he　shall　be　ill！〃



〃Allons！　Mon　cher！〃　cried　Herr　Paul；　〃c'est　magnifique；　mais；　vous

savez；　ce　nest　guere　la　guerre！〃　　Scruff；　with　a　wild　spring；　leaped

past　him　to　the　ground。



〃Ah！〃　cried　Miss　Naylor；　〃the　carpet！〃　　Fresh　moans　of　mirth　shook

the　table；　for　having　tasted　the　wine　of　laughter；　all　wanted　as　much

more　as　they　could　get。　　When　Scruff　and　his　traces　were　effaced；

Herr　Paul　took　a　ladle　in　his　hand。



〃I　have　a　toast；〃　he　said；　waving　it　for　silence；　〃a　toast　we　will

drink　all　together　from　our　hearts；　the　toast　of　my　little　daughter；

who　to…day　has　thirteen　years　become；　and　there　is　also　in　our

hearts；〃　he　continued；　putting　down　the　ladle　and　suddenly　becoming

grave；　〃the　thought　of　one　who　is　not　today　with　us　to　see　this

joyful　occasion；　to　her；　too；　in　this　our　happiness　we　turn　our

hearts　and　glasses　because　it　is　her　joy　that　we　should　yet　be

joyful。　　I　drink　to　my　little　daughter；　may　God　her　shadow　bless！〃



All　stood　up；　clinking　their　glasses；　and　drank：　then；　in　the　hush

that　followed；　Greta；　according　to　custom；　began　to　sing　a　German

carol；　at　the　end　of　the　fourth　line　she　stopped；　abashed。



Heir　Paul　blew　his　nose　loudly；　and；　taking　up　a　cap　that　had　fallen

from　a　cracker；　put　it　on。



Every　one　followed　his　example；　Miss　Naylor　attaining　the　distinction

of　a　pair　of　donkey's　ears；　which　she　wore；　after　another　glass　of

wine；　with　an　air　of　sacrificing　to　the　public　good。



At　the　end　of　supper　came　the　moment　for　the　offering　of　gifts。　　Herr

Paul　had　tied　a　handkerchief　over　Greta's　eyes；　and　one　by　one　they

brought　her　presents。　　Greta；　under　forfeit　of　a　kiss；　was　bound　to

tell　the　giver　by　the　feel　of　the　gift。　　Her　swift；　supple　little

hands　explored　noiselessly；　and　in　every　case　she　guessed　right。



Dawney's　present；　a　kitten；　made　a　scene　by　clawing　at　her　hair。



〃That　is　Dr。　Edmund's；〃　she　cried　at　once。　　Christian　saw　that　Harz

had　disappeared；　but　suddenly　he　came　back　breathless；　and　took　his

place　at　the　end　of　the　rank　of　givers。



Advancing　on　tiptoe；　he　put　his　present　into　Greta's　hands。　　It　was　a

small　bronze　copy　of　a　Donatello　statue。



〃Oh；　Herr　Harz！〃　cried　Greta；　〃I　saw　it　in　the　studio　that　day。　　It

stood　on　the　table；　and　it　is　lovely。〃



Mrs。　Decie；　thrusting　her　pale　eyes　close　to　it；　murmured：

〃Charming！〃



Mr。　Treffry　took　it　in　his　forgers。



〃Rum　little　toad！　　Cost　a　pot　of　money；