some reminiscences-第24节

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caricatured　folk）　who　had　the　last　say　in　the　formation　of　my



character。　　One　is　nothing　if　not　modest；　but　in　this　disaster　I



think　I　have　done　some　honour　to　their　simple　teaching。　　〃Won't



you　sit　down？〃　　Very　fair；　very　fair　indeed。　　She　sat　down。　　Her



amused　glance　strayed　all　over　the　room。　　There　were　pages　of　MS。



on　the　table　and　under　the　table；　a　batch　of　typed　copy　on　a



chair；　single　leaves　had　fluttered　away　into　distant　corners；



there　were　there　living　pages；　pages　scored　and　wounded；　dead



pages　that　would　be　burnt　at　the　end　of　the　daythe　litter　of　a



cruel　battlefield；　of　a　long；　long　and　desperate　fray。　　Long！　　I



suppose　I　went　to　bed　sometimes；　and　got　up　the　same　number　of



times。　　Yes；　I　suppose　I　slept；　and　ate　the　food　put　before　me；



and　talked　connectedly　to　my　household　on　suitable　occasions。



But　I　had　never　been　aware　of　the　even　flow　of　daily　life；　made



easy　and　noiseless　for　me　by　a　silent；　watchful；　tireless



affection。　　Indeed；　it　seemed　to　me　that　I　had　been　sitting　at



that　table　surrounded　by　the　litter　of　a　desperate　fray　for　days



and　nights　on　end。　　It　seemed　so；　because　of　the　intense



weariness　of　which　that　interruption　had　made　me　awarethe　awful



disenchantment　of　a　mind　realising　suddenly　the　futility　of　an



enormous　task；　joined　to　a　bodily　fatigue　such　as　no　ordinary



amount　of　fairly　heavy　physical　labour　could　ever　account　for。　　I



have　carried　bags　of　wheat　on　my　back；　bent　almost　double　under　a



ship's　deck…beams；　from　six　in　the　morning　till　six　in　the



evening　（with　an　hour　and　a　half　off　for　meals）；　so　I　ought　to



know。







And　I　love　letters。　　I　am　jealous　of　their　honour　and　concerned



for　the　dignity　and　comeliness　of　their　service。　　I　was；　most



likely；　the　only　writer　that　neat　lady　had　ever　caught　in　the



exercise　of　his　craft；　and　it　distressed　me　not　to　be　able　to



remember　when　it　was　that　I　dressed　myself　last；　and　how。　　No



doubt　that　would　be　all　right　in　essentials。　　The　fortune　of　the



house　included　a　pair　of　grey…blue　watchful　eyes　that　would　see



to　that。　　But　I　felt　somehow　as　grimy　as　a　Costaguana　lepero



after　a　day's　fighting　in　the　streets；　rumpled　all　over　and



dishevelled　down　to　my　very　heels。　　And　I　am　afraid　I　blinked



stupidly。　　All　this　was　bad　for　the　honour　of　letters　and　the



dignity　of　their　service。　　Seen　indistinctly　through　the　dust　of



my　collapsed　universe；　the　good　lady　glanced　about　the　room　with



a　slightly　amused　serenity。　　And　she　was　smiling。　　What　on　earth



was　she　smiling　at？　　She　remarked　casually：







〃I　am　afraid　I　interrupted　you。〃







〃Not　at　all。〃







She　accepted　the　denial　in　perfect　good　faith。　　And　it　was



strictly　true。　Interruptedindeed！　　She　had　robbed　me　of　at



least　twenty　lives；　each　infinitely　more　poignant　and　real　than



her　own；　because　informed　with　passion；　possessed　of　convictions；



involved　in　great　affairs　created　out　of　my　own　substance　for　an



anxiously　meditated　end。







She　remained　silent　for　a　while；　then　said　with　a　last　glance　all



round　at　the　litter　of　the　fray：







〃And　you　sit　like　this　here　writing　youryour。　。　。〃







〃Iwhat？　　Oh；　yes；　I　sit　here　all　day。〃







〃It　must　be　perfectly　delightful。〃







I　suppose　that；　being　no　longer　very　young；　I　might　have　been　on



the　verge　of　having　a　stroke；　but　she　had　left　her　dog　in　the



porch；　and　my　boy's　dog；　patrolling　the　field　in　front；　had



espied　him　from　afar。　　He　came　on　straight　and　swift　like　a



cannon…ball；　and　the　noise　of　the　fight；　which　burst　suddenly



upon　our　ears；　was　more　than　enough　to　scare　away　a　fit　of



apoplexy。　　We　went　out　hastily　and　separated　the　gallant　animals。



Afterwards　I　told　the　lady　where　she　would　find　my　wifejust



round　the　corner；　under　the　trees。　　She　nodded　and　went　off　with



her　dog；　leaving　me　appalled　before　the　death　and　devastation　she



had　lightly　madeand　with　the　awfully　instructive　sound　of　the



word　〃delightful〃　lingering　in　my　ears。







Nevertheless；　later　on；　I　duly　escorted　her　to　the　field　gate。　　I



wanted　to　be　civil；　of　course　（what　are　twenty　lives　in　a　mere



novel　that　one　should　be　rude　to　a　lady　on　their　account？）；　but



mainly；　to　adopt　the　good　sound　Ollendorffian　style；　because　I



did　not　want　the　dog　of　the　general's　daughter　to　fight　again



（encore）　with　the　faithful　dog　of　my　infant　son　（mon　petit



garcon）。Was　I　afraid　that　the　dog　of　the　general's　daughter



would　be　able　to　overcome　（vaincre）　the　dog　of　my　child？No；　I



was　not　afraid。　。　。But　away　with　the　Ollendorff　method。　　However



appropriate　and　seemingly　unavoidable　when　I　touch　upon　anything



appertaining　to　the　lady；　it　is　most　unsuitable　to　the　origin；



character　and　history　of　the　dog；　for　the　dog　was　the　gift　to　the



child　from　a　man　for　whom　words　had　anything　but　an　Ollendorffian



value；　a　man　almost　childlike　in　the　impulsive　movements　of　his



untutored　genius；　the　most　single…minded　of　verbal



impressionists；　using　his　great　gifts　of　straight　feeling　and



right　expression　with　a　fine　sincerity　and　a　strong　if；　perhaps；



not　fully　conscious　conviction。　　His　art　did　not　obtain；　I　fear；



all　the　credit　its　unsophisticated　inspiration　deserved。　　I　am



alluding　to　the　late　Stephen　Crane；　the　author　of　〃The　Red　Badge



of　Courage；〃　a　work　of　imagination　which　found　its　short　moment



of　celebrity　in　the　last　decade　of　the　departed　century。　　Other



books　followed。　　Not　many。　　He　had　not　the　time。　　It　was　an



individual　and　complete　talent；　which　obtained　but　a　grudging；



somewhat　supercilious　recognition　from　the　world　at　large。　　For



himself　one　hesitates　to　regret　his　early　death。　　Like　one　of　the



men　in　his　〃Open　Boat；〃　one　felt　that　he　was　of　those　whom　fate



seldom　allows　to　make　a　safe　landing　after　much　toil　and



bitterness　at　the　oar。　　I　confess　to　an　abiding　affection　for



that　energetic；　slight；　fragile；　intensely　living　and　transient



figure。　　He　liked　me　even　before　we　met　on　the　strength　of　a　page



or　two　of　my　writing；　and　after　we　had　met　I　am　glad　to　think　he



liked　me　still。　　He　used　to　point　out　to　me　with　great



earnestness；　and　even　with　some　severity；　that　〃a　boy　ought　to



have　a　dog。〃　　I　suspect　that　he　was　shocked　at　my　neglect　of



parental　duties。　　Ultimately　it　was　he　who　provided　the　dog。



Shortly　afterwards；　one　day；　after　playing　with　the　child　on　the



rug　for　an　hour　or　so　with　the　most　intense　absorption；　he　raised



his　head　and　declared　firmly：　　〃I　shall　teach　your　boy　to　ride。〃



That　was　not　to　be。　　He　was　not　given　the　time。







But　here　is　the　dogan　old　dog　now。　　Broad　and　low　on　his　bandy



paws；　with　a　black　head　on　a　white　body　and　a　ridiculous　black



spot　at　the　other　end　of　him；　he　provokes；　when　he　walks　abroad；



smiles　not　altogether　unkind。　　Grotesque　and　engaging　in　the



whole　of　his　appearance；　his　usual　attitudes　are　meek；　but　his



temperament　discloses　itself　unexpectedly　pugnacious　in　the



presence　of　his　kind。　　As　he　lies　in　the　firelight；　his　head　well



up；　and　a　fixed；　far…away　gaze　directed　at　the　shadows　of　the



room；　he　achieves　a　striking　nobility　of　pose　in　the　calm



consciousness　of　an　unstained　life。　　He　has　brought　up　one　baby；



and　now；　after　seeing　his　first　charge　off　to　school；　he　is



bringing　up　another　with　the　same　conscientious　devotion；　but



with　a　more　deliberate　gravity　of　manner；　the　sign　of　greater



wisdom　and　riper　experience；　but　also　of　rheumatism；　I　fear。



From　the　morning　bath　to　the　evening　ceremonies　of　the　cot　you



attend；　old　friend；　the　little　two…legged　creature　of　your



adoption；　being　yourself　treated　in　the　exercise　of　your　duties



with　every　possible　regard；　with　infinite　consideration；　by　every



person　in　the　houseeven　as　I　myself　am　treated；　only　you



deserve　it　more。　　The　general's　daughter　would　tell　you　that　it



must　be　〃perfectly　delightful。〃







Aha！　old　dog。　　She　never　heard　you　yelp　with　acute　pain　（it's



that　poor　left　ear）　the　while；　with　incredible　self…command；　you



preserve　a　rigid　immobility　for　fear　of　overturning　the　little



two…legged　creature。　　She　has　never　seen　your　resigned　smile　when



the　little　two…legged　creature；　interrogated　sternly；　〃What　are



you　doing　to　the　good　dog？〃　answers　with　a　wide；　innocent　stare：



〃Nothing。　　Only　loving　him；　mamma　dear！〃







The　general's　daughter　does　not　know　the　secret　terms　of　self…



imposed　tasks；　good　dog；　the　pain　that　may　lurk　in　the　very



rewards　of　rigid　self…command。　　But　we　have　lived　together　many



years。　　We　have