catherine-a story(凯瑟琳的故事)-第6节
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upon the hope of being one day Mrs。 Catherine's pis…aller。
In the meantime she considered herself free as the wind； and permitted
herself all the innocent gaieties which that 〃chartered libertine；〃 a coquette；
can take。 She flirted with all the bachelors； widowers； and married men； in
a manner which did extraordinary credit to her years： and let not the reader
fancy such pastimes unnatural at her early age。 The ladiesHeaven bless
them！are； as a general rule； coquettes from babyhood upwards。 Little
SHE'S of three years old play little airs and graces upon small heroes of
five； simpering misses of nine make attacks upon young gentlemen of
twelve； and at sixteen； a well…grown girl； under encouraging
circumstancessay； she is pretty； in a family of ugly elder sisters； or an
only child and heiress； or a humble wench at a country inn； like our fair
Catherineis at the very pink and prime of her coquetry： they will jilt you
at that age with an ease and arch infantine simplicity that never can be
surpassed in maturer years。
Miss Catherine； then； was a franche coquette； and Mr。 John Hayes was
miserable。 His life was passed in a storm of mean passions and bitter
jealousies； and desperate attacks upon the indifference…rock of Mrs。
Catherine's heart； which not all his tempest of love could beat down。 O
cruel cruel pangs of love unrequited！ Mean rogues feel them as well as
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Catherine： A Story
great heroes。 Lives there the man in Europe who has not felt them many
times？who has not knelt； and fawned； and supplicated； and wept； and
cursed； and raved； all in vain； and passed long wakeful nights with ghosts
of dead hopes for company； shadows of buried remembrances that glide
out of their graves of nights； and whisper； 〃We are dead now； but we
WERE once； and we made you happy； and we come now to mock you：
despair； O lover； despair； and die〃？O cruel pangs！dismal nights！Now
a sly demon creeps under your nightcap； and drops into your ear those soft
hope…breathing sweet words； uttered on the well…remembered evening：
there； in the drawer of your dressing…table （along with the razors； and
Macassar oil）； lies the dead flower that Lady Amelia Wilhelmina wore in
her bosom on the night of a certain ballthe corpse of a glorious hope that
seemed once as if it would live for ever； so strong was it； so full of joy and
sunshine： there； in your writing…desk； among a crowd of unpaid bills； is
the dirty scrap of paper； thimble…sealed； which came in company with a
pair of muffetees of her knitting （she was a butcher's daughter； and did all
she could； poor thing！）； begging 〃you would ware them at collidge； and
think of her who〃married a public…house three weeks afterwards； and
cares for you no more now than she does for the pot…boy。 But why
multiply instances； or seek to depict the agony of poor mean…spirited John
Hayes？ No mistake can be greater than that of fancying such great
emotions of love are only felt by virtuous or exalted men： depend upon it；
Love； like Death； plays havoc among the pauperum tabernas； and sports
with rich and poor； wicked and virtuous； alike。 I have often fancied； for
instance； on seeing the haggard pale young old…clothesman； who wakes
the echoes of our street with his nasal cry of 〃Clo'！〃I have often； I said；
fancied that； besides the load of exuvial coats and breeches under which
he staggers； there is another weight on himan atrior cura at his tailand
while his unshorn lips and nose together are performing that mocking；
boisterous； Jack…indifferent cry of 〃Clo'； clo'！〃 who knows what woeful
utterances are crying from the heart within？ There he is； chaffering with
the footman at No。 7 about an old dressing…gown： you think his whole soul
is bent only on the contest about the garment。 Psha！ there is； perhaps；
some faithless girl in Holywell Street who fills up his heart； and that
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Catherine： A Story
desultory Jew…boy is a peripatetic hell！ Take another instance：take the
man in the beef…shop in Saint Martin's Court。 There he is； to all
appearances quite calm： before the same round of beeffrom morning till
sundownfor hundreds of years very likely。 Perhaps when the shutters are
closed； and all the world tired and silent； there is HE silent； but untired
cutting； cutting； cutting。 You enter； you get your meat to your liking； you
depart； and； quite unmoved； on； on he goes； reaping ceaselessly the Great
Harvest of Beef。 You would fancy that if Passion ever failed to conquer； it
had in vain assailed the calm bosom of THAT MAN。 I doubt it； and would
give much to know his history。
Who knows what furious Aetna…flames are raging underneath the
surface of that calm flesh…mountainwho can tell me that that calmness
itself is not DESPAIR？
* * *
The reader； if he does not now understand why it was that Mr。 Hayes
agreed to drink the Corporal's proffered beer； had better just read the
foregoing remarks over again； and if he does not understand THEN； why；
small praise to his brains。 Hayes could not bear that Mr。 Bullock should
have a chance of seeing； and perhaps making love to Mrs。 Catherine in his
absence； and though the young woman never diminished her coquetries；
but； on the contrary； rather increased them in his presence； it was still a
kind of dismal satisfaction to be miserable in her company。
On this occasion； the disconsolate lover could be wretched to his
heart's content； for Catherine had not a word or a look for him； but
bestowed all her smiles upon the handsome stranger who owned the black
horse。 As for poor Tummas Bullock； his passion was never violent； and he
was content in the present instance to sigh and drink beer。 He sighed and
drank； sighed and drank； and drank again； until he had swallowed so much
of the Corporal's liquor； as to be induced to accept a guinea from his purse
also； and found himself； on returning to reason and sobriety； a soldier of
Queen Anne's。
But oh！ fancy the agonies of Mr。 Hayes when； seated with the
Corporal's friends at one end of the kitchen； he saw the Captain at the
place of honour； and the smiles which the fair maid bestowed upon him；
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Catherine： A Story
when； as she lightly whisked past him with the Captain's supper； she；
pointing to the locket that once reposed on the breast of the Dutch lady at
the Brill； looked archly on Hayes and said； 〃See； John； what his Lordship
has given me；〃 and when John's face became green and purple with rage
and jealousy； Mrs。 Catherine laughed ten times louder； and cried 〃Coming；
my Lord；〃 in a voice of shrill triumph； that bored through the soul of Mr。
John Hayes and left him gasping for breath。
On Catherine's other lover； Mr。 Thomas； this coquetry had no effect：
he； and two comrades of his； had by this time quite fallen under the spell
of the Corporal； and hope； glory； strong beer； Prince Eugene； pair of
colours； more strong beer； her blessed Majesty； plenty more strong beer；
and such subjects； martial and bacchic； whirled through their dizzy brains
at a railroad pace。
And now； if there had been a couple of experienced reporters present
at the 〃Bugle Inn；〃 they might have taken down a conversation on love
and warthe two themes discussed by the two parties occupying the
kitchenwhich； as the parts were sung together； duetwise； formed together
some very curious harmonies。 Thus； while the Captain was whispering the
softest nothings； the Corporal was shouting the fiercest combats of the war；
and； like the gentleman at Penelope's table； on it exiguo pinxit praelia tota
bero。 For example：
CAPTAIN。 What do you say to a silver trimming； pretty Catherine？
Don't you think a scarlet riding…cloak； handsome
