the mirror of the sea-第33节
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whether； limited by such discouraging impossibilities； life were
still worth living； it was only because I had then before me
several other pressing questions； some of which have remained
unanswered to this day。 The resonant； laughing voices of these
gorgeous maidens scared away the multitude of humming…birds； whose
delicate wings wreathed with the mist of their vibration the tops
of flowering bushes。
No； they were not princesses。 Their unrestrained laughter filling
the hot； fern…clad ravine had a soulless limpidity； as of wild；
inhuman dwellers in tropical woodlands。 Following the example of
certain prudent travellers； I withdrew unseen … and returned； not
much wiser； to the Mediterranean； the sea of classic adventures。
XL。
It was written that there； in the nursery of our navigating
ancestors； I should learn to walk in the ways of my craft and grow
in the love of the sea； blind as young love often is； but absorbing
and disinterested as all true love must be。 I demanded nothing
from it … not even adventure。 In this I showed； perhaps； more
intuitive wisdom than high self…denial。 No adventure ever came to
one for the asking。 He who starts on a deliberate quest of
adventure goes forth but to gather dead…sea fruit； unless； indeed；
he be beloved of the gods and great amongst heroes； like that most
excellent cavalier Don Quixote de la Mancha。 By us ordinary
mortals of a mediocre animus that is only too anxious to pass by
wicked giants for so many honest windmills； adventures are
entertained like visiting angels。 They come upon our complacency
unawares。 As unbidden guests are apt to do； they often come at
inconvenient times。 And we are glad to let them go unrecognised；
without any acknowledgment of so high a favour。 After many years；
on looking back from the middle turn of life's way at the events of
the past； which； like a friendly crowd； seem to gaze sadly after us
hastening towards the Cimmerian shore； we may see here and there；
in the gray throng； some figure glowing with a faint radiance； as
though it had caught all the light of our already crepuscular sky。
And by this glow we may recognise the faces of our true adventures；
of the once unbidden guests entertained unawares in our young days。
If the Mediterranean； the venerable （and sometimes atrociously ill…
tempered） nurse of all navigators； was to rock my youth； the
providing of the cradle necessary for that operation was entrusted
by Fate to the most casual assemblage of irresponsible young men
（all； however； older than myself） that； as if drunk with Provencal
sunshine； frittered life away in joyous levity on the model of
Balzac's 〃Histoire des Treize〃 qualified by a dash of romance DE
CAPE ET D'EPEE。
She who was my cradle in those years had been built on the River of
Savona by a famous builder of boats； was rigged in Corsica by
another good man； and was described on her papers as a 'tartane' of
sixty tons。 In reality； she was a true balancelle； with two short
masts raking forward and two curved yards； each as long as her
hull； a true child of the Latin lake； with a spread of two enormous
sails resembling the pointed wings on a sea…bird's slender body；
and herself； like a bird indeed； skimming rather than sailing the
seas。
Her name was the Tremolino。 How is this to be translated？ The
Quiverer？ What a name to give the pluckiest little craft that ever
dipped her sides in angry foam！ I had felt her； it is true；
trembling for nights and days together under my feet； but it was
with the high…strung tenseness of her faithful courage。 In her
short； but brilliant； career she has taught me nothing； but she has
given me everything。 I owe to her the awakened love for the sea
that； with the quivering of her swift little body and the humming
of the wind under the foot of her lateen sails； stole into my heart
with a sort of gentle violence； and brought my imagination under
its despotic sway。 The Tremolino！ To this day I cannot utter or
even write that name without a strange tightening of the breast and
the gasp of mingled delight and dread of one's first passionate
experience。
XLI。
We four formed （to use a term well understood nowadays in every
social sphere） a 〃syndicate〃 owning the Tremolino： an
international and astonishing syndicate。 And we were all ardent
Royalists of the snow…white Legitimist complexion … Heaven only
knows why！ In all associations of men there is generally one who；
by the authority of age and of a more experienced wisdom； imparts a
collective character to the whole set。 If I mention that the
oldest of us was very old； extremely old … nearly thirty years old
… and that he used to declare with gallant carelessness； 〃I live by
my sword；〃 I think I have given enough information on the score of
our collective wisdom。 He was a North Carolinian gentleman； J。 M。
K。 B。 were the initials of his name； and he really did live by the
sword； as far as I know。 He died by it； too； later on； in a
Balkanian squabble； in the cause of some Serbs or else Bulgarians；
who were neither Catholics nor gentlemen … at least； not in the
exalted but narrow sense he attached to that last word。
Poor J。 M。 K。 B。； AMERICAIN； CATHOLIQUE； ET GENTILHOMME； as he was
disposed to describe himself in moments of lofty expansion！ Are
there still to be found in Europe gentlemen keen of face and
elegantly slight of body； of distinguished aspect； with a
fascinating drawing…room manner and with a dark； fatal glance； who
live by their swords； I wonder？ His family had been ruined in the
Civil War； I fancy； and seems for a decade or so to have led a
wandering life in the Old World。 As to Henry C…； the next in age
and wisdom of our band； he had broken loose from the unyielding
rigidity of his family； solidly rooted； if I remember rightly； in a
well…to…do London suburb。 On their respectable authority he
introduced himself meekly to strangers as a 〃black sheep。〃 I have
never seen a more guileless specimen of an outcast。 Never。
However； his people had the grace to send him a little money now
and then。 Enamoured of the South； of Provence； of its people； its
life； its sunshine and its poetry； narrow…chested； tall and short…
sighted； he strode along the streets and the lanes； his long feet
projecting far in advance of his body； and his white nose and
gingery moustache buried in an open book： for he had the habit of
reading as he walked。 How he avoided falling into precipices； off
the quays； or down staircases is a great mystery。 The sides of his
overcoat bulged out with pocket editions of various poets。 When
not engaged in reading Virgil； Homer； or Mistral； in parks；
restaurants； streets； and suchlike public places； he indited
sonnets （in French） to the eyes； ears； chin； hair； and other
visible perfections of a nymph called Therese； the daughter；
honesty compels me to state； of a certain Madame Leonore who kept a
small cafe for sailors in one of the narrowest streets of the old
town。
No more charming face； clear…cut like an antique gem； and delicate
in colouring like the petal of a flower； had ever been set on；
alas！ a somewhat squat body。 He read his verses aloud to her in
the very cafe with the innocence of a little child and the vanity
of a poet。 We followed him there willingly enough； if only to
watch the divine Therese laugh； under the vigilant black eyes of
Madame Leonore； her mother。 She laughed very prettily； not so much
at the sonnets； which she could not but esteem； as at poor Henry's
French accent； which was unique； resembling the warbling of birds；
if birds ever warbled with a stuttering； nasal intonation。
Our third partner was Roger P。 de la S…； the most Scandinavian…
looking of Provencal squires； fair； and six feet high； as became a
descendant of sea…roving Northmen； authoritative； incisive； wittily
scornful； with a comedy in three acts in his pocket； and in his
breast a heart blighted by a hopeless passion for his beautiful
cousin； married to a wealthy hide and tallow merchant。 He used to
take us to lunch at their house without ceremony。 I admired the
good lady's sweet patience。 The husband was a conciliatory soul；
with a great fund of resignation； which he expended on 〃Roger's
friends。〃 I suspect he was secretly horrified at these invasions。
But it was a Carlist salon； and as such we were made welcome。 The
possibility of raising Catalonia in the interest of the REY NETTO；
who had just then crossed the Pyrenees； was much discussed there。
Don Carlos； no doubt； must have had many queer
