the man who was thursday-第10节

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He　spoke　with　casual　civility；　but　in　an　utterly　dead　voice　that　contradicted　the　fanaticism　of　his　face。　It　seemed　almost　as　if　all　friendly　words　were　to　him　lifeless　conveniences；　and　that　his　only　life　was　hate。　After　a　pause　the　man　spoke　again。

〃Of　course；　the　Secretary　of　the　branch　told　you　everything　that　can　be　told。　But　the　one　thing　that　can　never　be　told　is　the　last　notion　of　the　President；　for　his　notions　grow　like　a　tropical　forest。　So　in　case　you　don't　know；　I'd　better　tell　you　that　he　is　carrying　out　his　notion　of　concealing　ourselves　by　not　concealing　ourselves　to　the　most　extraordinary　lengths　just　now。　Originally；　of　course；　we　met　in　a　cell　underground；　just　as　your　branch　does。　Then　Sunday　made　us　take　a　private　room　at　an　ordinary　restaurant。　He　said　that　if　you　didn't　seem　to　be　hiding　nobody　hunted　you　out。　Well；　he　is　the　only　man　on　earth；　I　know；　but　sometimes　I　really　think　that　his　huge　brain　is　going　a　little　mad　in　its　old　age。　For　now　we　flaunt　ourselves　before　the　public。　We　have　our　breakfast　on　a　balconyon　a　balcony；　if　you　pleaseoverlooking　Leicester　Square。〃

〃And　what　do　the　people　say？〃　asked　Syme。

〃It's　quite　simple　what　they　say；〃　answered　his　guide。

〃They　say　we　are　a　lot　of　jolly　gentlemen　who　pretend　they　are　anarchists。〃

〃It　seems　to　me　a　very　clever　idea；〃　said　Syme。

〃Clever！　God　blast　your　impudence！　Clever！〃　cried　out　the　other　in　a　sudden；　shrill　voice　which　was　as　startling　and　discordant　as　his　crooked　smile。　〃When　you've　seen　Sunday　for　a　split　second　you'll　leave　off　calling　him　clever。〃

With　this　they　emerged　out　of　a　narrow　street；　and　saw　the　early　sunlight　filling　Leicester　Square。　It　will　never　be　known；　I　suppose；　why　this　square　itself　should　look　so　alien　and　in　some　ways　so　continental。　It　will　never　be　known　whether　it　was　the　foreign　look　that　attracted　the　foreigners　or　the　foreigners　who　gave　it　the　foreign　look。　But　on　this　particular　morning　the　effect　seemed　singularly　bright　and　clear。　Between　the　open　square　and　the　sunlit　leaves　and　the　statue　and　the　Saracenic　outlines　of　the　Alhambra；　it　looked　the　replica　of　some　French　or　even　Spanish　public　place。　And　this　effect　increased　in　Syme　the　sensation；　which　in　many　shapes　he　had　had　through　the　whole　adventure；　the　eerie　sensation　of　having　strayed　into　a　new　world。　As　a　fact；　he　had　bought　bad　cigars　round　Leicester　Square　ever　since　he　was　a　boy。　But　as　he　turned　that　corner；　and　saw　the　trees　and　the　Moorish　cupolas；　he　could　have　sworn　that　he　was　turning　into　an　unknown　Place　de　something　or　other　in　some　foreign　town。

At　one　corner　of　the　square　there　projected　a　kind　of　angle　of　a　prosperous　but　quiet　hotel；　the　bulk　of　which　belonged　to　a　street　behind。　In　the　wall　there　was　one　large　French　window；　probably　the　window　of　a　large　coffee…room；　and　outside　this　window；　almost　literally　overhanging　the　square；　was　a　formidably　buttressed　balcony；　big　enough　to　contain　a　dining…table。　In　fact；　it　did　contain　a　dining…table；　or　more　strictly　a　breakfast…table；　and　round　the　breakfast…table；　glowing　in　the　sunlight　and　evident　to　the　street；　were　a　group　of　noisy　and　talkative　men；　all　dressed　in　the　insolence　of　fashion；　with　white　waistcoats　and　expensive　button…holes。　Some　of　their　jokes　could　almost　be　heard　across　the　square。　Then　the　grave　Secretary　gave　his　unnatural　smile；　and　Syme　knew　that　this　boisterous　breakfast　party　was　the　secret　conclave　of　the　European　Dynamiters。

Then；　as　Syme　continued　to　stare　at　them；　he　saw　something　that　he　had　not　seen　before。　He　had　not　seen　it　literally　because　it　was　too　large　to　see。　At　the　nearest　end　of　the　balcony；　blocking　up　a　great　part　of　the　perspective；　was　the　back　of　a　great　mountain　of　a　man。　When　Syme　had　seen　him；　his　first　thought　was　that　the　weight　of　him　must　break　down　the　balcony　of　stone。　His　vastness　did　not　lie　only　in　the　fact　that　he　was　abnormally　tall　and　quite　incredibly　fat。　This　man　was　planned　enormously　in　his　original　proportions；　like　a　statue　carved　deliberately　as　colossal。　His　head；　crowned　with　white　hair；　as　seen　from　behind　looked　bigger　than　a　head　ought　to　be。　The　ears　that　stood　out　from　it　looked　larger　than　human　ears。　He　was　enlarged　terribly　to　scale；　and　this　sense　of　size　was　so　staggering；　that　when　Syme　saw　him　all　the　other　figures　seemed　quite　suddenly　to　dwindle　and　become　dwarfish。　They　were　still　sitting　there　as　before　with　their　flowers　and　frock…coats；　but　now　it　looked　as　if　the　big　man　was　entertaining　five　children　to　tea。

As　Syme　and　the　guide　approached　the　side　door　of　the　hotel；　a　waiter　came　out　smiling　with　every　tooth　in　his　head。

〃The　gentlemen　are　up　there；　sare；〃　he　said。　〃They　do　talk　and　they　do　laugh　at　what　they　talk。　They　do　say　they　will　throw　bombs　at　ze　king。〃

And　the　waiter　hurried　away　with　a　napkin　over　his　arm；　much　pleased　with　the　singular　frivolity　of　the　gentlemen　upstairs。

The　two　men　mounted　the　stairs　in　silence。

Syme　had　never　thought　of　asking　whether　the　monstrous　man　who　almost　filled　and　broke　the　balcony　was　the　great　President　of　whom　the　others　stood　in　awe。　He　knew　it　was　so；　with　an　unaccountable　but　instantaneous　certainty。　Syme；　indeed；　was　one　of　those　men　who　are　open　to　all　the　more　nameless　psychological　influences　in　a　degree　a　little　dangerous　to　mental　health。　Utterly　devoid　of　fear　in　physical　dangers；　he　was　a　great　deal　too　sensitive　to　the　smell　of　spiritual　evil。　Twice　already　that　night　little　unmeaning　things　had　peeped　out　at　him　almost　pruriently；　and　given　him　a　sense　of　drawing　nearer　and　nearer　to　the　head…quarters　of　hell。　And　this　sense　became　overpowering　as　he　drew　nearer　to　the　great　President。

The　form　it　took　was　a　childish　and　yet　hateful　fancy。　As　he　walked　across　the　inner　room　towards　the　balcony；　the　large　face　of　Sunday　grew　larger　and　larger；　and　Syme　was　gripped　with　a　fear　that　when　he　was　quite　close　the　face　would　be　too　big　to　be　possible；　and　that　he　would　scream　aloud。　He　remembered　that　as　a　child　he　would　not　look　at　the　mask　of　Memnon　in　the　British　Museum；　because　it　was　a　face；　and　so　large。

By　an　effort；　braver　than　that　of　leaping　over　a　cliff；　he　went　to　an　empty　seat　at　the　breakfast…table　and　sat　down。　The　men　greeted　him　with　good…humoured　raillery　as　if　they　had　always　known　him。　He　sobered　himself　a　little　by　looking　at　their　conventional　coats　and　solid；　shining　coffee…pot；　then　he　looked　again　at　Sunday。　His　face　was　very　large；　but　it　was　still　possible　to　humanity。

In　the　presence　of　the　President　the　whole　company　looked　sufficiently　commonplace；　nothing　about　them　caught　the　eye　at　first；　except　that　by　the　President's　caprice　they　had　been　dressed　up　with　a　festive　respectability；　which　gave　the　meal　the　look　of　a　wedding　breakfast。　One　man　indeed　stood　out　at　even　a　superficial　glance。　He　at　least　was　the　common　or　garden　Dynamiter。　He　wore；　indeed；　the　high　white　collar　and　satin　tie　that　were　the　uniform　of　the　occasion；　but　out　of　this　collar　there　sprang　a　head　quite　unmanageable　and　quite　unmistakable；　a　bewildering　bush　of　brown　hair　and　beard　that　almost　obscured　the　eyes　like　those　of　a　Skye　terrier。　But　the　eyes　did　look　out　of　the　tangle；　and　they　were　the　sad　eyes　of　some　Russian　serf。　The　effect　of　this　figure　was　not　terrible　like　that　of　the　President；　but　it　had　every　diablerie　that　can　come　from　the　utterly　grotesque。　If　out　of　that　stiff　tie　and　collar　there　had　come　abruptly　the　head　of　a　cat　or　a　dog；　it　could　not　have　been　a　more　idiotic　contrast。

The　man's　name；　it　seemed；　was　Gogol；　he　was　a　Pole；　and　in　this　circle　of　days　he　was　called　Tuesday。　His　soul　and　speech　were　incurably　tragic；　he　could　not　force　himself　to　play　the　prosperous　and　frivolous　part　demanded　of　him　by　President　Sunday。　And；　indeed；　when　Syme　came　in　the　President；　with　that　daring　disregard　of　public　suspicion　which　was　his　policy；　was　actually　chaffing　Gogol　upon　his　inability　to　assume　conventional　graces。

〃Our　friend　Tuesday；〃　said　the　President　in　a　deep　voice　at　once　of　quietude　and　volume；　〃our　friend　Tuesday　doesn't　seem　to　grasp　the　idea。　He　dresses　up　like　a　gentleman；　but　he　seems　to　be　too　great　a　soul　to　behave　like　one。　He　insists　on　the　ways　of　the　stage　conspirator。　Now　if　a　gentleman　goes　about　London　in　a　top　hat　and　a　frock…coat；　no　one　need　know　that　he　is　an　anarchist。　But　if　a　gentleman　puts　on　a　top　hat　and　a　frock…coat；　and　then　goes　about　on　his　hands　and　kneeswell；　he　may　attract　attention。　That's　what　Brother　Gogol　does。　He　goes　about　on　his　hands　and　knees　with　such　inexhaustible　diplomacy；　that　by　this　time　he　finds　it　quite　difficult　to　walk　upright。〃

〃I　am　not　good　at　goncealment；〃　said　Gogol　sulkily；　with　a　thick　foreign　accent；　〃I　am　not　ashamed　of　the　cause。〃

〃Yes　you　are；　my　boy；　and　so　is　the　cause　of　you；〃　said　the　President　good…naturedly。　〃You　hide　as　much　as　anybody；　but　you　can't　do　it；　you　see；　you're　such　an　ass！　You　try　to　combine　two　inconsistent　methods。　When　a　householder　finds　a　man　under　his　bed；　he　will　probably　pause　to　note　the　circumstance。　But　if　he　finds　a　man　under　his　bed　in　a　top　hat；　you　will　agree　with　me；　　my　dear　Tuesday；　that　he　is　not　likely　even　to　forget　it。　Now　when　you　were　found　under