the poet at the breakfast table-第46节

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He　paused　when　he　got　through；　not　for　an　answer；　for　there　evidently
was　none；　but　to　see　how　the　Master　would　take　it。　　The　Scarabee　had
had　it　all　his　own　way。

The　Master　was　loyal　to　his　own　generous　nature。　　He　felt　as　a
peaceful　citizen　might　feel　who　had　squared　off　at　a　stranger　for
some　supposed　wrong；　and　suddenly　discovered　that　he　was　undertaking
to　chastise　Mr。　Dick　Curtis；　〃the　pet　of　the　Fancy；〃　or　Mr。　Joshua
Hudson；　〃the　John　Bull　fighter。〃

He　felt　the　absurdity　of　his　discomfiture；　for　he　turned　to　me　good…
naturedly；　and　said；

　　　　〃Poor　Johnny　Raw！　　What　madness　could　impel
　　　　　So　rum　a　flat　to　face　so　prime　a　swell？〃

To　tell　the　truth；　I　rather　think　the　Master　enjoyed　his　own　defeat。
The　Scarabee　had　a　right　to　his　victory；　a　man　does　not　give　his　life
to　the　study　of　a　single　limited　subject　for　nothing；　and　the　moment
we　come　across　a　first…class　expert　we　begin　to　take　a　pride　in　his
superiority。　　It　cannot　offend　us；　who　have　no　right　at　all　to　be　his
match　on　his　own　ground。　　Besides；　there　is　a　very　curious　sense　of
satisfaction　in　getting　a　fair　chance　to　sneer　at　ourselves　and　scoff
at　our　own　pretensions。　　The　first　person　of　our　dual　consciousness
has　been　smirking　and　rubbing　his　hands　and　felicitating　himself　on
his　innumerable　superiorities；　until　we　have　grown　a　little　tired　of
him。　　Then；　when　the　other　fellow；　the　critic；　the　cynic；　the　Shimei；
who　has　been　quiet；　letting　self…love　and　self…glorification　have
their　perfect　work；　opens　fire　upon　the　first　half　of　our　personality
and　overwhelms　it　with　that　wonderful　vocabulary　of　abuse　of　which　he
is　the　unrivalled　master；　there　is　no　denying　that　he　enjoys　it
immensely；　and　as　he　is　ourself　for　the　moment；　or　at　least　the　chief
portion　of　ourself　（the　other　half…self　retiring　into　a　dim　corner　of
semiconsciousness　and　cowering　under　the　storm　of　sneers　and
contumely；you　follow　me　perfectly；　Beloved；the　way　is　as　plain　as
the　path　of　the　babe　to　the　maternal　fount）；　as；　I　say；　the　abusive
fellow　is　the　chief　part　of　us　for　the　time；　and　he　likes　to　exercise
his　slanderous　vocabulary；　we　on　the　whole　enjoy　a　brief　season　of
self…depreciation　and　self…scolding　very　heartily。

It　is　quite　certain　that　both　of　us；　the　Master　and　myself；　conceived
on　the　instant　a　respect　for　the　Scarabee　which　we　had　not　before
felt。　　He　had　grappled　with　one　difficulty　at　any　rate　and　mastered
it。　　He　had　settled　one　thing；　at　least；　so　it　appeared；　in　such　a
way　that　it　was　not　to　be　brought　up　again。　　And　now　he　was
determined；　if　it　cost　him　the　effort　of　all　his　remaining　days；　to
close　another　discussion　and　put　forever　to　rest　the　anxious　doubts
about　the　larva　of　meloe。

Your　thirty…six　dissections　must　have　cost　you　a　deal　of　time　and
labor；the　Master　said。

What　have　I　to　do　with　time；　but　to　fill　it　up　with　labor？
answered　the　Scarabee。…It　is　my　meat　and　drink　to　work　over　my
beetles。　　My　holidays　are　when　I　get　a　rare　specimen。　　My　rest　is　to
watch　the　habits　of　insects；　those　that　I　do　not　pretend　to　study。
Here　is　my　muscarium；　my　home　for　house…flies；　very　interesting
creatures；　here　they　breed　and　buzz　and　feed　and　enjoy　themselves；
and　die　in　a　good　old　age　of　a　few　months。　　My　favorite　insect　lives
in　this　other　case；　she　is　at　home；　but　in　her　private…chamber；　you
shall　see　her。

He　tapped　on　the　glass　lightly；　and　a　large；　gray；　hairy　spider　came
forth　from　the　hollow　of　a　funnel…like　web。

And　this　is　all　the　friend　you　have　to　love？　　said　the　Master；　with
a　tenderness　in　his　voice　which　made　the　question　very　significant。

Nothing　else　loves　me　better　than　she　does；　that　I　know　of；he
answered。

To　think　of　it！　　Not　even　a　dog　to　lick　his　hand；　or　a　cat　to　purr
and　rub　her　fur　against　him！　　Oh；　these　boarding…houses；　these
boarding…houses！　　What　forlorn　people　one　sees　stranded　on　their
desolate　shores！　　Decayed　gentlewomen　with　the　poor　wrecks　of　what
once　made　their　households　beautiful；　disposed　around　them　in　narrow
chambers　as　they　best　may　be；　coming　down　day　after　day；　poor　souls！
to　sit　at　the　board　with　strangers；　their　hearts　full　of　sad　memories
which　have　no　language　but　a　sigh；　no　record　but　the　lines　of　sorrow
on　their　features；　orphans；　creatures　with　growing　tendrils　and
nothing　to　cling　to；　lonely　rich　men；　casting　about　them　what　to　do
with　the　wealth　they　never　knew　how　to　enjoy；　when　they　shall　no
longer　worry　over　keeping　and　increasing　it；　young　men　and　young
women；　left　to　their　instincts；　unguarded；　unwatched；　save　by
malicious　eyes；　which　are　sure　to　be　found　and　to　find　occupation　in
these　miscellaneous　collections　of　human　beings；　and　now　and　then　a
shred　of　humanity　like　this　little　adust　specialist；　with　just　the
resources　needed　to　keep　the　〃radical　moisture〃　from　entirely
exhaling　from　his　attenuated　organism；　and　busying　himself　over　a
point　of　science；　or　compiling　a　hymn…book；　or　editing　a　grammar　or　a
dictionary；such　are　the　tenants　of　boarding…houses　whom　we　cannot
think　of　without　feeling　how　sad　it　is　when　the　wind　is　not　tempered
to　the　shorn　lamb；　when　the　solitary；　whose　hearts　are　shrivelling；
are　not　set　in　families！

The　Master　was　greatly　interested　in　the　Scarabee's　Muscarium。

I　don't　remember；he　said；that　I　have　heard　of　such　a　thing　as
that　before。　　Mighty　curious　creatures；　these　same　house…flies！　　Talk
about　miracles！　　Was　there　ever　anything　more　miraculous；　so　far　as
our　common　observation　goes；　than　the　coming　and　the　going　of　these
creatures？　　Why　didn't　Job　ask　where　the　flies　come　from　and　where
they　go　to？　　I　did　not　say　that　you　and　I　don't　know；　but　how　many
people　do　know　anything　about　it？　　Where　are　the　cradles　of　the　young
flies？　　Where　are　the　cemeteries　of　the　dead　ones；　or　do　they　die　at
all　except　when　we　kill　them？　　You　think　all　the　flies　of　the　year
are　dead　and　gone；　and　there　comes　a　warm　day　and　all　at　once　there
is　a　general　resurrection　of　'em；　they　had　been　taking　a　nap；　that　is
all。

I　suppose　you　do　not　trust　your　spider　in　the　Muscarium　？said　I；
addressing　the　Scarabee。

Not　exactly；he　answered；she　is　a　terrible　creature。　　She　loves
me；　I　think；　but　she　is　a　killer　and　a　cannibal　among　other　insects。
I　wanted　to　pair　her　with　a　male　spider；　but　it　wouldn't　do。

…Wouldn't　do？said　I；why　not？　　Don't　spiders　have　their　mates　as
well　as　other　folks？

…Oh　yes；　sometimes；　but　the　females　are　apt　to　be　particular；　and　if
they　don't　like　the　mate　you　offer　them　they　fall　upon　him　and　kill
him　and　eat　him　up。　　You　see　they　are　a　great　deal　bigger　and
stronger　than　the　males；　and　they　are　always　hungry　and　not　always
particularly　anxious　to　have　one　of　the　other　sex　bothering　round。

Woman's　rights！said　I；there　you　have　it！　　Why　don't　those
talking　ladies　take　a　spider　as　their　emblem？　　Let　them　form
arachnoid　associations；　spinsters　and　spiders　would　be　a　good　motto。

The　Master　smiled。　　I　think　it　was　an　eleemosynary　smile；　for　my
pleasantry　seems　to　me　a　particularly　basso　rilievo；　as　I　look　upon
it　in　cold　blood。　　But　conversation　at　the　best　is　only　a　thin
sprinkling　of　occasional　felicities　set　in　platitudes　and
commonplaces。　　I　never　heard　people　talk　like　the　characters　in　the
〃School　for　Scandal；〃I　should　very　much　like　to。…I　say　the　Master
smiled。　　But　the　Scarabee　did　not　relax　a　muscle　of　his　countenance。

There　are　persons　whom　the　very　mildest　of　faecetiae　sets　off　into
such　convulsions　of　laughter；　that　one　is　afraid　lest　they　should
injure　themselves。　　Even　when　a　jest　misses　fire　completely；　so　that
it　is　no　jest　at　all；　but　only　a　jocular　intention；　they　laugh　just
as　heartily。　　Leave　out　the　point　of　your　story；　get　the　word　wrong
on　the　duplicity　of　which　the　pun　that　was　to　excite　hilarity
depended；　and　they　still　honor　your　abortive　attempt　with　the　most
lusty　and　vociferous　merriment。

There　is　a　very　opposite　class　of　persons　whom　anything　in　the　nature
of　a　joke　perplexes；　troubles；　and　even　sometimes　irritates；　seeming
to　make　them　think　they　are　trifled　with；　if　not　insulted。　　If　you
are　fortunate　enough　to　set　the　whole　table　laughing；　one　of　this
class　of　persons　will　look　inquiringly　round；　as　if　something　had
happened；　and；　seeing　everybody　apparently　amused　but　himself；　feel
as　if　he　was　being　laughed　at；　or　at　any　rate　as　if　something　had
been　said　which　he　was　not　to　hear。　　Often；　however；　it　does　not　go
so　far　as　this；　and　there　is　nothing　more　than　mere　insensibility　to
the　cause　of　other　people's　laughter；　a　sort　of　joke…blindness；
comparable　to　the　well…known　color…blindness　with　which　many　persons
are　afflicted　as　a　congenital　incapacity。

I　have　never　seen　the　Scarabee　smile。　　I　have　seen　him　take　off　his
goggles；he　breakfasts　in　these　occasionally；I　suppose　when　he　has
been　tiring　his　poor　old　eyes　out　over　night　gazing　through　his
microscope；I　have　seen　him　take　his　goggles　off；　I　say；　and　stare
about　him；　when　the　rest　of　us　were　laughing　at　something　which
amused　us；　but　his　features　betrayed　nothing　more　than　a　certain
bewilderment；　as　if　we　had　been　foreigners　talking　in　an　unknown
tongue。　　I　do　not　think　it　was　a　mere　fancy　of　mine　that　he　bears　a
kind　of　resemblance　t