a far country-第25节

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he　has　just　given　a　hundred　thousand　dollars　to　the　University。〃

〃Andwon't　he　see　you？〃

〃At　present　he's　taking　a　nap；〃　said　Krebs。　　〃He　comes　here　occasionally
for　a　rest。〃

〃Do　you　like　interviewing？〃　I　asked。

He　smiled　again。

〃Well；　I　see　a　good　many　different　kinds　of　people；　and　that's
interesting。〃

〃Butbeing　a　reporter？〃　I　persisted。

This　continued　patronage　was　not　a　conscious　expression　of　superiority　on
my　part；　but　he　did　not　seem　to　resent　it。　　He　had　aroused　my　curiosity。

〃I'm　going　into　the　law；〃　he　said。

The　quiet　confidence　with　which　he　spoke　aroused；　suddenly；　a　twinge　of
antagonism。　　He　had　every　right　to　go　into　the　law；　of　course；　and
yet！。。。　　my　query　would　have　made　it　evident　to　me；　had　I　been
introspective　in　those　days；　that　the　germ　of　the　ideal　of　the
profession；　implanted　by　Mr。　Watling；　was　expanding。　　Were　not
influential　friends　necessary　for　the　proper　kind　of　career？　and　where
were　Krebs's？　　In　spite　of　the　history　of　Daniel　Webster　and　a　long　line
of　American　tradition；　I　felt　an　incongruity　in　my　classmate's
aspiration。　　And　as　he　stood　there；　gaunt　and　undoubtedly　hungry；　his
eyes　kindling；　I　must　vaguely　have　classed　him　with　the　revolutionaries
of　all　the　ages；　must　have　felt　in　him；　instinctively；　a　menace　to　the
stability　of　that　Order　with　which　I　had　thrown　my　fortunes。　　And　yet
there　were　comparatively　poor　men　in　the　Law　School　itself　who　had　not
made　me　feel　this　way！　　He　had　impressed　me　against　my　will；　taken　me　by
surprise；　commiseration　had　been　mingled　with　other　feelings　that　sprang
out　of　the　memory　of　the　night　I　had　called　on　him；　when　he　had　been
sick。　　Now　I　resented　something　in　him　which　Tom　Peters　had　called
〃crust。〃

〃The　law！〃　I　repeated。　　〃Why？〃

〃Well；〃　he　said；　〃even　when　I　was　a　boy；　working　at　odd　jobs；　I　used　to
think　if　I　could　ever　be　a　lawyer　I　should　have　reached　the　top　notch　of
human　dignity。〃

Once　more　his　smile　disarmed　me。

〃And　now〃　I　asked　curiously。

〃You　see；　it　was　an　ideal　with　me；　I　suppose。　　My　father　was　responsible
for　that。　　He　had　the　German　temperament　of　'48；　and　when　he　fled　to　this
country；　he　expected　to　find　Utopia。〃　　The　smile　emerged　again；　like　the
sun　shining　through　clouds；　while　fascination　and　antagonism　again
struggled　within　me。　　〃And　then　came　frightful　troubles。　　For　years　he
could　get　only　enough　work　to　keep　him　and　my　mother　alive；　but　he　never
lost　his　faith　in　America。　　‘It　is　man；'　he　would　say；　‘man　has　to　grow
up　to　itto　liberty。'　　Without　the　struggle；　liberty　would　be　worth
nothing。　　And　he　used　to　tell　me　that　we　must　all　do　our　part；　we　who　had
come　here；　and　not　expect　everything　to　be　done　for　us。　　He　had　made　that
mistake。　　If　things　were　bad；　why；　put　a　shoulder　to　the　wheel　and　help
to　make　them　better。

〃That　helped　me；〃　he　continued；　after　a　moment's　pause。　　〃For　I've　seen　a
good　many　things；　especially　since　I've　been　working　for　a　newspaper。
I've　seen；　again　and　again；　the　power　of　the　law　turned　against　those
whom　it　was　intended　to　protect；　I've　seen　lawyers　who　care　a　great　deal
more　about　winning　cases　than　they　do　about　justice；　who　prostitute　their
profession　to　profit　making；profit　making　for　themselves　and　others。
And　they　are　often　the　respectable　lawyers；　too；　men　of　high　standing；
whom　you　would　not　think　would　do　such　things。　　They　are　on　the　side　of
the　powerful；　and　the　best　of　them　are　all　retained　by　rich　men　and
corporations。　　And　what　is　the　result？　　One　of　the　worst　evils；　I　think；
that　can　befall　a　country。　　The　poor　man　goes　less　and　less　to　the
courts。　　He　is　getting　bitter；　which　is　bad；　which　is　dangerous。　　But　men
won't　see　it。〃

It　was　on　my　tongue　to　refute　this；　to　say　that　everybody　had　a　chance。
I　could　indeed　recall　many　arguments　that　had　been　drilled　into　me；
quotations；　even；　from　court　decisions。　　But　something　prevented　me　from
doing　this；something　in　his　manner；　which　was　neither　argumentative　nor
combative。

〃That's　why　I　am　going　into　the　law；〃　he　added。　　〃And　I　intend　to　stay　in
it　if　I　can　keep　alive。　　It's　a　great　chance　for　mefor　all　of　us。
Aren't　you　at　the　Law　School？〃

I　nodded。　　Once　more；　as　his　earnest　glance　fell　upon　me；　came　that
suggestion　of　a　subtle；　inexplicable　link　between　us；　but　before　I　could
reply；　steps　were　heard　behind　us；　and　an　elderly　servant；　bareheaded；
was　seen　coming　down　the　path。

〃Are　you　the　reporter？〃　he　demanded　somewhat　impatiently　of　Krebs。　　〃If
you　want　to　see　Mr。　Dome；　you'd　better　come　right　away。　　He's　going　out
for　a　drive。〃

For　a　while；　after　he　had　shaken　my　hand　and　departed；　I　stood　in　the
snow；　looking　after　him。。。。




VIII

On　the　Wednesday　of　that　same　week　the　news　of　my　father's　sudden　and
serious　illness　came　to　me　in　a　telegram；　and　by　the　time　I　arrived　at
home　it　was　too　late　to　see　him　again　alive。　　It　was　my　first　experience
with　death；　and　what　perplexed　me　continually　during　the　following　days
was　an　inability　to　feel　the　loss　more　deeply。　　When　a　child；　I　had　been
easily　shaken　by　the　spectacle　of　sorrow。　　Had　I；　during　recent　years；　as
a　result　of　a　discovery　that　emotions　arising　from　human　relationships
lead　to　discomfort　and　suffering；　deliberately　been　forming　a　shell；
until　now　I　was　incapable　of　natural　feelings？　　Of　late　I　had　seemed
closer　to　my　father；　and　his　letters；　though　formal；　had　given　evidence
of　his　affection；　in　his　repressed　fashion　he　had　made　it　clear　that　he
looked　forward　to　the　time　when　I　was　to　practise　with　him。　　Why　was　it
then；　as　I　gazed　upon　his　fine　features　in　death；　that　I　experienced　no
intensity　of　sorrow？　　What　was　it　in　me　that　would　not　break　down？　　He
seemed　worn　and　tired；　yet　I　had　never　thought　of　him　as　weary；　never
attributed　to　him　any　yearning。　　And　now　he　was　released。

I　wondered　what　had　been　his　private　thoughts　about　himself；　his　private
opinions　about　life；　and　when　I　reflect　now　upon　my　lack　of　real
knowledge　at　five　and　twenty；　I　am　amazed　at　the　futility　of　an　expensive
education　which　had　failed　to　impress　upon　me　the　simple；　basic　fact　that
life　was　struggle；　that　either　development　or　retrogression　is　the　fate
of　all　men；　that　characters　are　never　completely　made；　but　always　in　the
making。　　I　had　merely　a　disconcerting　glimpse　of　this　truth；　with　no
powers　of　formulation；　as　I　sat　beside　my　mother　in　the　bedroom；　where
every　article　evoked　some　childhood　scene。　　Here　was　the　dent　in　the
walnut　foot…board　of　the　bed　made；　one　wintry　day；　by　the　impact　of　my
box　of　blocks；　the　big　arm…chair；　covered　with　I　know　not　what　stiff
embroidery；　which　had　served　on　countless　occasions　as　a　chariot　driven
to　victory。　　I　even　remembered　how　every　Wednesday　morning　I　had　been
banished　from　the　room；　which　had　been　so　large　a　part　of　my　childhood
universe；　when　Ella；　the　housemaid；　had　flung　open　all　its　windows　and
crowded　its　furniture　into　the　hall。

The　thought　of　my　wanderings　since　then　became　poignant；　almost
terrifying。　　The　room；　with　all　its　memories；　was　unchanged。　　How　safe　I
had　been　within　its　walls！　　Why　could　I　not　have　been；　content　with　what
it　represented？　of　tradition；　of　custom；of　religion？　　And　what　was　it
within　me　that　had　lured　me　away　from　these？

I　was　miserable；　indeed；　but　my　misery　was　not　of　the　kind　I　thought　it
ought　to　be。　　At　moments；　when　my　mother　relapsed　into　weeping；　I　glanced
at　her　almost　in　wonder。　　Such　sorrow　as　hers　was　incomprehensible。　　Once
she　surprised　and　discomfited　me　by　lifting　her　head　and　gazing　fixedly
at　me　through　her　tears。

I　recall　certain　impressions　of　the　funeral。　　There；　among　the　pall…
bearers；　was　my　Cousin　Robert　Breck；　tears　in　the　furrows　of　his　cheeks。
Had　he　loved　my　father　more　than　I？　　The　sight　of　his　grief　moved　me
suddenly　and　strongly。。。。　　It　seemed　an　age　since　I　had　worked　in　his
store；　and　yet　here　he　was　still；　coming　to　town　every　morning　and
returning　every　evening　to　Claremore；　loving　his　friends；　and　mourning
them　one　by　one。　　Was　this；　the　spectacle　presented　by　my　Cousin　Robert；
the　reward　of　earthly　existence？　　Were　there　no　other　prizes　save　those
known　as　greatness　of　character　and　depth　of　human　affections？　　Cousin
Robert　looked　worn　and　old。　　The　other　pall…bearers；　men　of　weight；　of
long　standing　in　the　community；　were　aged；　too；　Mr。　Blackwood；　and　Mr。
Jules　Hollister；　and　out　of　place；　somehow；　in　this　new　church　building。
It　came　to　me　abruptly　that　the　old　order　was　gone；had　slipped　away
during　my　absence。　　The　church　I　had　known　in　boyhood　had　been　torn　down
to　make　room　for　a　business　building　on　Boyne　Street；　the　edifice　in
which　I　sat　was　expensive；　gave　forth　no　distinctive　note；　seemingly
transitory　with　its　hybrid　interior；　its　shiny　oak　and　blue　and　red
organ…pipes；　betokening　a　compromised　and　weakened　faith。　　Nondescript；
likewise；　seemed　the　new　minister；　Mr。　Randlett；　as　he　prayed　unctuously
in　front　of　the　flowers　massed　on　the　platform。　　I　vaguely　resented　his
laudatory　references　to　my　father。

The　old　church；　with　its　severity；　had　actually　stood　for　something。　　It
was　the　Westminster　Catechism　in　wood　and　stone；　and　Dr。　Pound　had　been
the　human　incarnation　of　that　catechi