stories by english authors-orient (英国作家故事集)-第2节
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with divers Kings； and in eight days passed through many changes of life。
Sometimes I wore dress…clothes and consorted with Princes and Politicals；
drinking from crystal and eating from silver。 Sometimes I lay out upon the
ground and devoured what I could get； from a plate made of leaves； and
drank the running water； and slept under the same rug as my servant。 It
was all in the day's work。
Then I headed for the Great Indian Desert upon the proper date； as I
had promised； and the night Mail set me down at Marwar Junction； where
a funny little； happy…go…lucky； native…managed railway runs to Jodhpore。
The Bombay Mail from Delhi makes a short halt at Marwar。 She arrived
just as I got in； and I had just time to hurry to her platform and go down
the carriages。 There was only one Second…class on the train。 I slipped the
window and looked down upon a flaming…red beard； half covered by a
railway…rug。 That was my man； fast asleep； and I dug him gently in the
ribs。 He woke with a grunt； and I saw his face in the light of the lamps。 It
was a great and shining face。
〃Tickets again？〃 said he。
〃No；〃 said I。 〃I am to tell you that he is gone South for the week。 He
has gone South for the week！〃
The train had begun to move out。 The red man rubbed his eyes。 〃He
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has gone South for the week；〃 he repeated。 〃Now that's just like his
impidence。 Did he say that I was to give you anything？ 'Cause I won't。〃
〃He didn't；〃 I said； and dropped away； and watched the red lights die
out in the dark。 It was horribly cold because the wind was blowing off the
sands。 I climbed into my own trainnot an Intermediate carriage this time…
…and went to sleep。
If the man with the beard had given me a rupee I should have kept it as
a memento of a rather curious affair。 But the consciousness of having done
my duty was my only reward。
Later on I reflected that two gentlemen like my friends could not do
any good if they foregathered and personated correspondents of
newspapers； and might； if they blackmailed one of the little rat…trap States
of Central India or Southern Rajputana； get themselves into serious
difficulties。 I therefore took some trouble to describe them as accurately as
I could remember to people who would be interested in deporting them；
and succeeded； so I was later informed； in having them headed back from
the Degumber borders。
Then I became respectable； and returned to an office where there were
no Kings and no incidents outside the daily manufacture of a newspaper。 A
newspaper office seems to attract every conceivable sort of person； to the
prejudice of discipline。 Zenana…mission ladies arrive； and beg that the
Editor will instantly abandon all his duties to describe a Christian prize…
giving in a back slum of a perfectly inaccessible village； Colonels who
have been overpassed for command sit down and sketch the outline of a
series of ten； twelve； or twenty… four leading articles on Seniority /versus/
Selection； missionaries wish to know why they have not been permitted to
escape from their regular vehicles of abuse； and swear at a brother
missionary under special patronage of the editorial We； stranded theatrical
companies troop up to explain that they cannot pay for their
advertisements； but on their return from New Zealand or Tahiti will do so
with interest； inventors of patent punka…pulling machines； carriage
couplings； and unbreakable swords and axletrees call with specifications
in their pockets and hours at their disposal； tea companies enter and
elaborate their prospectuses with the office pens； secretaries of ball
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committees clamour to have the glories of their last dance more fully
described； strange ladies rustle in and say； 〃I want a hundred lady's cards
printed /at once/； please；〃 which is manifestly part of an Editor's duty； and
every dissolute ruffian that ever tramped the Grand Trunk Road makes it
his business to ask for employment as a proof… reader。 And； all the time；
the telephone…bell is ringing madly； and Kings are being killed on the
Continent； and Empires are saying； 〃You're another；〃 and Mister
Gladstone is calling down brimstone upon the British Dominions； and the
little black copyboys are whining； 〃/kaa…pi chay…ha…yeh/〃 （〃Copy wanted〃）；
like tired bees； and most of the paper is as blank as Modred's shield。
But that is the amusing part of the year。 There are six other months
when none ever come to call； and the thermometer walks inch by inch up
to the top of the glass； and the office is darkened to just above reading…
light； and the press…machines are red…hot to touch； and nobody writes
anything but accounts of amusements in the Hill…stations or obituary
notices。 Then the telephone becomes a tinkling terror； because it tells you
of the sudden deaths of men and women that you knew intimately； and the
prickly heat covers you with a garment； and you sit down and write： 〃A
slight increase of sickness is reported from the Khuda Janta Khan District。
The outbreak is purely sporadic in its nature； and； thanks to the energetic
efforts of the District authorities； is now almost at an end。 It is； however；
with deep regret we record the death；〃 etc。
Then the sickness really breaks out； and the less recording and
reporting the better for the peace of the subscribers。 But the Empires and
the Kings continue to divert themselves as selfishly as before； and the
Foreman thinks that a daily paper really ought to come out once in twenty…
four hours； and all the people at the Hill…stations in the middle of their
amusements say； 〃Good gracious！ why can't the paper be sparkling？ I'm
sure there's plenty going on up here。〃
That is the dark half of the moon； and； as the advertisements say；
〃must be experienced to be appreciated。〃
It was in that season； and a remarkably evil season； that the paper
began running the last issue of the week on Saturday night； which is to say
Sunday morning； after the custom of a London paper。 This was a great
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convenience； for immediately after the paper was put to bed the dawn
would lower the thermometer from 96 degrees to almost 84 degrees for
half an hour； and in that chillyou have no idea how cold is 84 degrees on
the grass until you begin to pray for ita very tired man could get off to
sleep ere the heat roused him。
One Saturday night it was my pleasant duty to put the paper to bed
alone。 A King or courtier or a courtesan or a Community was going to die
or get a new Constitution； or do something that was important on the other
side of the world； and the paper was to be held open till the latest possible
minute in order to catch the telegram。
It was a pitchy…black night； as stifling as a June night can be； and the
/loo/； the red…hot wind from the westward； was booming among the tinder…
dry trees and pretending that the rain was on its heels。 Now and again a
spot of almost boiling water would fall on the dust with the flop of a frog；
but all our weary world knew that was only pretence。 It was a shade cooler
in the press…room than the office； so I sat there； while the type ticked and
clicked； and the night…jars hooted at the windows； and the all but naked
compositors wiped the sweat from their foreheads and called for water。
The thing that was keeping us back； whatever it was； would not come off；
though the loo dropped and the last type was set； and the whole round
earth stood still in the choking heat； with its finger on its lip； to wait the
event。 I drowsed； and wondered whether the telegraph was a blessing； and
whether this dying man； or struggling people； might be aware of the
inconvenience the delay was causing。 There was no special reason beyond
the heat and worry to make tension； but； as the
