messer marco polo-第2节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



〃It's　a　long　time　since　you've　had　a　story　of　me；　twelve　long　years；　and　it's　a　long　time　before　you'll　have　another；　and　I　going　away　tomorrow。　　Old　Sergeant　Death　has　his　warrant　out　for　me　this　many　a　day；　and　it's　only　the　wisdom　of　an　old　dog　fox　that　eludes　him；　but　he'll　lay　me　by　the　heels　one　of　these　days。　。　。then　there'll　be　an　end　to　the　grand　stories。　。　。So　after　this；　if　you're　wanting　a　story；　you　must　be　writing　it　yourself。　。　。

〃But　before　I　die；　I'll　leave　you　the　story　of　Marco　Polo。　　There's　been　a　power　of　books　written　about　Marco　Polo。　　The　scholars　have　pushed　up　their　spectacles　and　brushed　the　cobwebs　from　their　ears；　and　they've　said；　'There's　all　there　is　about　Marco　Polo。'

〃But　the　scholars　are　a　queer　and　blind　people；　Brian　Oge。　　I've　heard　tell　there's　a　doctor　in　Spain　can　weigh　the　earth。　　But　he　can't　plow　a　furrow　that　is　needful；　for　planting　corn。　　The　scholars　can　tell　how　many　are　the　feathers　in　a　bird's　wing；　but　it　takes　me　to　inform　the　doctors　why　the　call　comes　to　them；　and　they　fly　over　oceans　without　compass　or　sextant　or　sight　of　land。

〃Did　you　ever　see　a　scholar　standing　in　front　of　a　slip　of　a　girl？　In　all　his　learning　he　can　find　nothing　to　say　to　her。　　And　every　penny　poet　in　the　country　knows。

〃Let　you　be　listening　now；　Brian　Oge；　and　let　also　the　scholars　be　listening。　　But　whether　the　scholars　do　or　not；　I'm　not　caring。　A　pope　once　listened　to　me　with　great　respect；　and　a　marshal　of　France　and　poets　without　number。　　But　the　scholars　do　be　turning　up　their　noses。　　And；　mind　you；　I've　got　as　much　scholarship　as　the　next　man；　as　you'll　see　from　my　story。

〃Barring　myself；　is　there　no　one　in　this　house　that　takes　snuff？　No！　　Ah；　well；　times　do　be　changing。〃



CHAPTER　I

Now　it's　nearing　night　on　the　first　day　of　spring；　and　you　could　see　how　loath　day　was　to　be　going　for　even　the　short　time　until　the　rising　of　the　sun　again。　　And　though　there　was　a　chill　on　the　canals；　yet　there　was　great　color　to　the　sunset；　the　red　of　it　on　the　water　ebbing　into　orange；　and　then　to　purple；　and　losing　itself　in　the　olive　pools　near　the　mooring…ties。　　And　a　little　wind　came　up　from　the　Greek　islands；　and　now　surged　and　fluttered；　the　way　you'd　think　a　harper　might　be　playing。　　You'd　hear　no　sound；　but　the　melody　was　there。　　It　was　the　rhythm　of　spring；　that　the　old　people　recognize。

But　the　young　people　would　know　it　was　spring；　too；　by　token　of　the　gaiety　that　was　in　the　air。　　For　nothing　brings　joy　to　the　heart　like　the　coming　of　spring。　　The　folk　who　do　be　blind　all　the　rest　of　the　year；　their　eyes　do　open　then；　and　a　sunset　takes　them；　and　the　wee　virgin　flowers　coming　up　between　the　stones；　or　the　twitter　of　a　bird　upon　the　bough。　。　。And　young　women　do　be　preening　themselves；　and　young　men　do　be　singing；　even　they　that　have　the　voices　of　rooks。　There　is　something　stirring　in　them　that　is　stirring；　in　the　ground；　with　the　bursting　of　the　seeds。　。　。

And　young　Marco　Polo　threw　down　the　quill　in　the　counting　house　where　he　was　learning　his　trade。　　The　night　was　coming　on。　　He　was　only　a　strip　of　a　lad；　and　to　lads　the　night　is　not　rest　from　work；　and　the　quietness　of　sleeping；　but　gaming；　and　drinking；　and　courting　young　women。　　Now；　there　were　two　women　he　might　have　gone　to；　and　one　was　a　great　Venetian　lady；　with　hair　the　red　of　a　queen's　cloak；　and　a　great　noble　shape　to　her　and　great　dignity。　　But　with　her　he　would　only　be　reciting　verses　or　making　grand；　stilted　compliments；　the　like　of　those　you　would　hear　in　a　play。　　And　while　that　seemed　to　fit　in　with　winter　and　candlelight；　it　was　poor　sport　for　spring。　The　other　one　was　a　black；　plump　little　gown…maker；　a　pleasant；　singing　little　woman；　very　affectionate；　and　very　proud　to　have　one　of　the　great　Polos　loving　her。　　She　was　eager　for　kissing；　and　always　asking　the　lad　to　be　careful　of　himself；　to　be　putting　his　cloak　on；　or　to　be　sure　and　drink　something　warm　when　he　got　home　that　night；　for　the　air　from　the　canals　was　chill。　　The　great　lady　was　too　much　of　the　mind；　and　the　little　gown…maker　was　too　much　of　the　body；　either　of　them；　to　be　pleasing　young　Marco　on　the　first　night　of　spring。

Now；　it　is　a　queer　thing　will　be　pleasing　a　young　man　on　the　first　night　of　spring。　　The　wandering　foot　itches；　and　the　mind　and　body　are　keen　to　follow。　　There　is　that　inside　a　young　man　that　makes　the　hunting　dog　rise　from　the　hearth　on　a　moonlit　night：　〃Begor！　it's　myself'll　take　a　turn　through　the　fields　on　the　chance　of　a　bit　of　coursing。　　A　weasel；　maybe；　or　an　otter；　would　be　out　the　night。　Or　a　hare　itself。　　Ay；　there　would　be　sport　for　you！　　The　hare　running　hell…for…leather；　and　me　after　him　over　brake　and　dell。　Ay！　　Ay！　　Ay！　　A　good　hunt's　a　jewel！　　I'll　take　a　stretch　along　the　road。〃

Or　there　is　in　him　what　does　be　troubling　the　birds；　and　they　on　tropic　islands。　　〃Tweet…tweet；〃　they　grumble。　　〃A　grand　place　this　surely；　and　very　comfortable　for　the　winter。　　The　palm…trees　are　green；　but　I'd　rather　have　the　green　of　young　grass。　　And　the　sea；　you　ken；　it　becomes　monotonous。　　Do　you　remember　the　peaches　of　Champagne；　wife；　and　the　cherry…trees　of　Antrim？　　Do　you　remember　the　farmer　who　was　such　a　bad　shot；　and　his　wife　with　the　red　petticoat？　　I'm　feeling　fine　and　strong　in　the　wings；　AVOURNEEN。　What　do　you　say？　　Let's　bundle　and　go！〃

He　wandered　out　with　the　discontent　of　the　season　on　him。　　The　sun　had　dropped　at　last；　and　everywhere　you'd　see　torches；　and　the　image　of　torches　in　the　water。　　On　the　canals　of　the　town　great　barges　moved。　　Everywhere　were　fine；　noble　shadows　and　the　splashing　of　oars。　There　was　a　great　admiral's　galley；　ready　to　put　to　sea　against　Genoa。　There　a　big　merchantman　back　from　Africa。　　And　along　the　canals　went　all　the　people　in　the　world；　you'd　think。　　Now　it　was　a　Frenchman；　all　silks　and　satins　and　'la…di…da；　monsieur！'　　Or　a　Spaniard　with　a　pointed　beard　and　long；　lean　legs　and　a　long；　lean　sword。　　And　now　it　was　a　Greek　courtesan；　white　as　milk；　sitting　in　her　gondola　as　on　a　throne。　　Here　was　a　Muscovite；　hairy；　dirty；　with　fine　fur　and　fine　jewels　and　teeth　sharp　as　a　dog's。　　And　now　an　effeminate　Greek　nobleman；　languid　as　a　bride。　　And　here　were　Moorish　captains；　Othello's　men；　great　giants　of　black　marble；　and　swarthy；　hook…nosed　merchants　of　Palestine；　and　the　squires　of　Crusaders　　pretty；　ringleted　boys；　swearing　like　demons。　　And　here　and　there　were　Scots　and　Irish　mercenaries；　kilted；　sensitive　folk；　one　moment　smiling　at　you　and　the　next　a　knife　in　your　gizzard。

And　as　he　went　through　the　courts　there　were　whispers　and　laughter；　and　occasionally　a　soft　voice　invited　him　to　enter；　but　he　smiled　and　shook　his　head。　　Near　the　Canal　de　Mestre；　which　is　close　by　the　Ghetto；　he　stopped　by　the　wine…shop　called　The　Prince　of　Bulgaria；　and　he　could　hear　great　disputation。　　And　some　were　speaking　of　Baldwin　II；　and　how　he　had　no　guts　to　have　let　Palaeologus　take　Constantinople　from　him。　　And　others　were　murmuring　about　Genoa。

〃Mark　us；　they　mean　trouble；　those　dogs。　　Better　wipe　them　off　the　face　of　the　earth　now。〃　　And　a　group　were　discussing　the　chances　of　raiding　the　Jewish　Kingdom　of　the　Yemen。　　〃They've　got　temples　there　roofed　with　gold。〃。　。　。And　an　Irish　piper　was　playing　on　a　little　silver　set　of　pipes；　and　an　Indian　magician　was　doing　great　sleight　of　hand。　。　。

〃I'll　go　in　and　talk　to　the　strange　foreign　people；〃　said　Marco　Polo。



CHAPTER　II

Now；　you　might　be　thinking　that　the　picture　I'm　drawing　is　out　of　my　own　head。　　Let　you　not　be　thinking　of　it　as　it　is　now；　a　city　of　shadows　and　ghosts；　with　a　few　scant　visitors　mooning　in　the　canals。　　The　Pride　of　the　West　she　was；　the　Jewel　of　the　East。　Constantinople　was　her　courtyard。　　Greece；　Egypt；　Abyssinia；　Bulgaria；　and　Muscovy；　her　ten…acre　fields。　　The　Crusaders　on　their　way　to　fight　the　Saracen　stopped　to　plead　for　her　help　and　generosity。　There　were　no　soldiers　more　chivalrous；　not　even　the　French。　　There　were　no　better　fighters；　not　even　the　Highland　clans。　　Sailors？　You'd　think　those　fellows　had　invented　the　sea。　　And　as　for　riches　and　treasures；　oh！　the　wonder　of　the　world　she　was！　　Tribute　she　had　from　everywhere；　the　four　great　horses　of　Saint　Mark　they　came　from　Constantinople。　　The　two　great　marble　columns　facing　the　Piazetta；　sure；　they　came　from　Acre。　　When　foreign　powers　wanted　the　loan　of　money；　it　was　to　Venice　they　came。　　Consider　the　probity　of　Venetian　men。　　They　once　held　as　pledge　the　Crown　of　Thorns　itself。　King　Louis　IX　of　France　redeemed　it。

The　processions　of　the　tradespeople　were　like　a　king's　retinue；　and　they　marching　in　state　on　the　election　of　a　doge。　　Each　in　their　separate　order　they'd　come；　the　master　smiths　first；　as　is　right；　every　one　garlanded　like　a　conqueror；　with　their　banner　and　their　buglers。　　The　furriers　next　in　ermine　and　taffeta；　the　tanners；　with　silver　cups　filled　with　wine；　the　tailors　in　white；　with　vermilion　stars；　the　wool…workers；　with　olive　branches；　the　quilt…　makers　in　cloaks　trimmed　with　fleur…de…lis；　the　cloth…of…gold　weavers；　with　golden　crowns　set　with　pearls；　the　shoemakers　in　fine　silk；　while　the　silk…workers　were　in　fustian；　the　cheese…dealers　and　pork…butchers　in　scarlet　and　purple；　the　fish…mongers　and　poulterers；　armed　like　men…of…war；