the patrician-第28节

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High　Street　he　began　observing　the　humours　of　the　day。　　The　bloom　of
political　belief　had　long　been　brushed　off　the　wings　of　one　who　had
so　flown　the　world's　winds。　　He　had　seen　too　much　of　more　vivid
colours　to　be　capable　now　of　venerating　greatly　the　dull　and　dubious
tints　of　blue　and　yellow。　　They　left　him　feeling　extremely
philosophic。　　Yet　it　was　impossible　to　get　away　from　them；　for　the
very　world　that　day　seemed　blue　and　yellow；　nor　did　the　third　colour
of　red　adopted　by　both　sides　afford　any　clear　assurance　that　either
could　see　virtue　in　the　other；　rather；　it　seemed　to　symbolize　the
desire　of　each　to　have　his　enemy's　blood。　　But　Courtier　soon　observed
by　the　looks　cast　at　his　own　detached；　and　perhaps　sarcastic；　face；
that　even　more　hateful　to　either　side　than　its　antagonist；　was　the
philosophic　eye。　　Unanimous　was　the　longing　to　heave　half　a　brick　at
it　whenever　it　showed　itself。　　With　its　d…d　impartiality；　its　habit
of　looking　through　the　integument　of　things　to　see　if　there　might　be
anything　inside；　he　felt　that　they　regarded　it　as　the　real　adversary…
…the　eternal　foe　to　all　the　little　fat　'facts；'　who；　dressed　up　in
blue　and　yellow；　were　swaggering　and　staggering；　calling　each　other
names；　wiping　each　other's　eyes；　blooding　each　other's　noses。　　To
these　little　solemn　delicious　creatures；　all　front　and　no　behind；　the
philosophic　eye；　with　its　habit　of　looking　round　the　corner；　was
clearly　detestable。　　The　very　yellow　and　very　blue　bodies　of　these
roistering　small　warriors　with　their　hands　on　their　tin　swords　and
their　lips　on　their　tin　trumpets；　started　up　in　every　window　and　on
every　wall　confronting　each　citizen　in　turn；　persuading　him　that　they
and　they　alone　were　taking　him　to　Westminster。　　Nor　had　they
apparently　for　the　most　part　much　trouble　with　electors；　who；　finding
uncertainty　distasteful；　passionately　desired　to　be　assured　that　the
country　could　at　once　be　saved　by　little　yellow　facts　or　little　blue
facts；　as　the　case　might　be；　who　had；　no　doubt；　a　dozen　other　good
reasons　for　being　on　the　one　side　or　the　other；　as；　for　instance；
that　their　father　had　been　so　before　them；　that　their　bread　was
buttered　yellow　or　buttered　blue；　that　they　had　been　on　the　other
side　last　time；　that　they　had　thought　it　over　and　made　up　their
minds；　that　they　had　innocent　blue　or　naive　yellow　beer　within；　that
his　lordship　was　the　man；　or　that　the　words　proper　to　their　mouths
were　'Chilcox　for　Bucklandbury'；　and；　above　all；　the　one　really
creditable　reason；　that；　so　far　as　they　could　tell　with　the　best　of
their　intellect　and　feelings；　the　truth　at　the　moment　was　either　blue
or　yellow。

The　narrow　high　street　was　thronged　with　voters。　　Tall　policemen
stationed　there　had　nothing　to　do。　　The　certainty　of　all；　that　they
were　going　to　win；　seemed　to　keep　everyone　in　good　humour。　　There　was
as　yet　no　need　to　break　anyone's　head；　for　though　the　sharpest
lookout　was　kept　for　any　signs　of　the　philosophic　eye；　it　was　only　to
be　foundoutside　Courtierin　the　perambulators　of　babies；　in　one
old　man　who　rode　a　bicycle　waveringly　along　the　street　and　stopped　to
ask　a　policeman　what　was　the　matter　in　the　town；　and　in　two　rather
green…faced　fellows　who　trundled　barrows　full　of　favours　both　blue
and　yellow。

But　though　Courtier　eyed　the　'facts'　with　such　suspicion；　the
keenness　of　everyone　about　the　business　struck　him　as　really
splendid。　　They　went　at　it　with　a　will。　　Having　looked　forward　to　it
for　months；　they　were　going　to　look　back　on　it　for　months。　　It　was
evidently　a　religious　ceremony；　summing　up　most　high　feelings；　and
this　seemed　to　one　who　was　himself　a　man　of　action；　natural；　perhaps
pathetic；　but　certainly　no　matter　for　scorn。

It　was　already　late　in　the　afternoon　when　there　came　debouching　into
the　high　street　a　long　string　of　sandwichmen；　each　bearing　before　and
behind　him　a　poster　containing　these　words　beautifully　situated　in
large　dark　blue　letters　against　a　pale　blue　ground：

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　〃NEW　COMPLICATIONS。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　DANGER　NOT　PAST。
　　　　　　　　　　VOTE　FOR　MILTOUN　AND　THE　GOVERNMENT；
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　AND　SAVE　THE　EMPIRE。〃

Courtier　stopped　to　look　at　them　with　peculiar　indignation。　　Not　only
did　this　poster　tramp　in　again　on　his　cherished　convictions　about
Peace；　but　he　saw　in　it　something　more　than　met　the　unphilosophic
eye。　　It　symbolized　for　him　all　that　was　catch…penny　in　the　national
life…an　epitaph　on　the　grave　of　generosity；　unutterably　sad。　　Yet
from　a　Party　point　of　view　what　could　be　more　justifiable？　　Was　it
not　desperately　important　that　every　blue　nerve　should　be　strained
that　day　to　turn　yellow　nerves；　if　not　blue；　at　all　events　green；
before　night　fell？　　Was　it　not　perfectly　true　that　the　Empire　could
only　be　saved　by　voting　blue？　　Could　they　help　a　blue　paper　printing
the　words；　'New　complications；'　which　he　had　read　that　morning？　　No
more　than　the　yellows　could　help　a　yellow　journal　printing　the　words
'Lord　Miltoun's　Evening　Adventure。'　　Their　only　business　was　to　win；
ever　fighting　fair。　　The　yellows　had　not　fought　fair；　they　never　did；
and　one　of　their　most　unfair　tactics　was　the　way　they　had　of　always
accusing　the　blues　of　unfair　fighting；　an　accusation　truly　ludicrous！
As　for　truth！　　That　which　helped　the　world　to　be　blue；　was　obviously
true；　that　which　didn't；　as　obviously　not。　　There　was　no　middle
policy！　　The　man　who　saw　things　neither　was　a　softy；　and　no　proper
citizen。　　And　as　for　giving　the　yellows　credit　for　sinceritythe
yellows　never　gave　them　credit！　　But　though　Courtier　knew　all　that；
this　poster　seemed　to　him　particularly　damnable；　and　he　could　not　for
the　life　of　him　resist　striking　one　of　the　sandwich…boards　with　his
cane。　　The　resounding　thwack　startled　a　butcher's　pony　standing　by
the　pavement。　　It　reared；　and　bolted　forward；　with　Courtier；　who　had
naturally　seized　the　rein；　hanging　on。　　A　dog　dashed　past。　　Courtier
tripped　and　fell。　　The　pony；　passing　over；　struck　him　on　the　head
with　a　hoof。　　For　a　moment　he　lost　consciousness；　then　coming　to
himself；　refused　assistance；　and　went　to　his　hotel。　　He　felt　very
giddy；　and；　after　bandaging　a　nasty　cut；　lay　down　on　his　bed。

Miltoun；　returning　from　that　necessary　exhibition　of　himself；　the
crowning　fact；　at　every　polling　centre；　found　time　to　go　and　see　him。

〃That　last　poster　of　yours！〃　Courtier　began；　at　once。

〃I'm　having　it　withdrawn。〃

〃It's　done　the　trickcongratulationsyou'll　get　in！〃

〃I　knew　nothing　of　it。〃

〃My　dear　fellow；　I　didn't　suppose　you　did。〃

〃When　there　is　a　desert；　Courtier；　between　a　man　and　the　sacred　city；
he　doesn't　renounce　his　journey　because　he　has　to　wash　in　dirty　water
on　the　way：　The　mobhow　I　loathe　it！〃

There　was　such　pent…up　fury　in　those　words　as　to　astonish　even　one
whose　life　had　been　passed　in　conflict　with　majorities。

〃I　hate　its　mean　stupidities；　I　hate　the　sound　of　its　voice；　and　the
look　on　its　faceit's　so　ugly；　it's　so　little。　　Courtier；　I　suffer
purgatory　from　the　thought　that　I　shall　scrape　in　by　the　votes　of　the
mob。　　There　is　sin　in　using　this　creature　and　I　am　expiating　it。〃

To　this　strange　outburst；　Courtier　at　first　made　no　reply。

〃You've　been　working　too　hard；〃　he　said　at　last；　〃you're　off　your
balance。　　After　all；　the　mob's　made　up　of　men　like　you　and　me。〃

〃No；　Courtier；　the　mob　is　not　made　up　of　men　like　you　and　me。　　If　it
were　it　would　not　be　the　mob。〃

〃It　looks；〃　Courtier　answered　gravely；　〃as　if　you　had　no　business　in
this　galley。　　I've　always　steered　clear　of　it　myself。〃

〃You　follow　your　feelings。　　I　have　not　that　happiness。〃

So　saying；　Miltoun　turned　to　the　door。

Courtier's　voice　pursued　him　earnestly。

〃Drop　your　politicsif　you　feel　like　this　about　them；　don't　waste
your　life　following　whatever　it　is　you　follow；　don't　waste　hers！〃

But　Miltoun　did　not　answer。

It　was　a　wondrous　still　night；　when；　a　few　minutes　before　twelve；
with　his　forehead　bandaged　under　his　hat；　the　champion　of　lost　causes
left　the　hotel　and　made　his　way　towards　the　Grammar　School　for　the
declaration　of　the　poll。　　A　sound　as　of　some　monster　breathing　guided
him；　till；　from　a　steep　empty　street　he　came　in　sight　of　a　surging

crowd；　spread　over　the　town　square；　like　a　dark　carpet　patterned　by
splashes　of　lamplight。　　High　up　above　that　crowd；　on　the　little
peaked　tower　of　the　Grammar　School；　a　brightly　lighted　clock　face
presided；　and　over　the　passionate　hopes　in　those　thousands　of　hearts
knit　together　by　suspense　the　sky　had　lifted；　and　showed　no　cloud
between　them　and　the　purple　fields　of　air。　　To　Courtier　descending
towards　the　square；　the　swaying　white　faces；　turned　all　one　way；
seemed　like　the　heads　of　giant　wild　flowers　in　a　dark　field；　shivered
by　wind。　　The　night　had　charmed　away　the　blue　and　yellow　facts；　and
breathed　down　into　that　throng　the　spirit　of　emotion。　　And　he
realized　all　at　once　the　beauty　and　meaning　of　this　sceneexpression
of　the　quivering　forces；　whose　perpetual　flux；　controlled　by　the
Spirit　of　Balance；　was　the　soul　of　the　world。　　Thousands　of　hearts
with　the　thought　of　self　lost　in　one　over…mastering　excitement！

An　old　man　with　a　long　grey　beard；　standing　close　to　his　elbow；
murmured：

〃'Tis　anxious　workI　woul