the research magnificent-第24节

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stocracy　of　noble　men。　　He　was　to　have　been　one　of　those　men；　too　fine　and　far…reaching　for　the　dull　manoeuvers　of　such　politics　as　rule　the　world　to…day。　　The　project　seemed　still　large；　still　whitely　noble；　but　now　it　was　unlit　and　dead；　and　in　the　foreground　he　sat　in　the　flat　of　Mrs。　Skelmersdale；　feeling　dissipated　and　fumbling　with　his　white　tie。　　And　she　was　looking　tired。　　〃God！〃　he　said。　　〃How　did　I　get　there？〃　And　then　suddenly　he　reached　out　his　arms　in　the　darkness　and　prayed　aloud　to　the　silences。　〃Oh；　God！　　Give　me　back　my　visions！　　Give　me　back　my　visions！〃　He　could　have　imagined　he　heard　a　voice　calling　upon　him　to　come　out　into　life；　to　escape　from　the　body　of　this　death。　　But　it　was　his　own　voice　that　called　to　him。　。　。　。

10

The　need　for　action　became　so　urgent　in　him；　that　he　got　right　out　of　his　bed　and　sat　on　the　edge　of　it。　　Something　had　to　be　done　at　once。　　He　did　not　know　what　it　was　but　he　felt　that　there　could　be　no　more　sleep；　no　more　rest；　no　dressing　nor　eating　nor　going　forth　before　he　came　to　decisions。　　Christian　before　his　pilgrimage　began　was　not　more　certain　of　this　need　of　flight　from　the　life　of　routine　and　vanities。　What　was　to　be　done？　In　the　first　place　he　must　get　away　and　think　about　it　all；　think　himself　clear　of　all　thesethese　immediacies；　these　associations　and　relations　and　holds　and　habits。　　He　must　get　back　to　his　vision；　get　back　to　the　God　in　his　vision。　　And　to　do　that　he　must　go　alone。　He　was　clear　he　must　go　alone。　　It　was　useless　to　go　to　Prothero；　one　weak　man　going　to　a　weaker。　　Prothero　he　was　convinced　could　help　him　not　at　all；　and　the　strange　thing　is　that　this　conviction　had　come　to　him　and　had　established　itself　incontestably　because　of　that　figure　at　the　street　corner；　which　had　for　just　one　moment　resembled　Prothero。　　By　some　fantastic　intuition　Benham　knew　that　Prothero　would　not　only　participate　but　excuse。　　And　he　knew　that　he　himself　could　endure　no　excuses。　　He　must　cut　clear　of　any　possibility　of　qualification。　　This　thing　had　to　be　stopped。　　He　must　get　away；　he　must　get　free；　he　must　get　clean。　　In　the　extravagance　of　his　reaction　Benham　felt　that　he　could　endure　nothing　but　solitary　places　and　to　sleep　under　the　open　sky。　He　wanted　to　get　right　away　from　London　and　everybody　and　lie　in　the　quiet　darkness　and　stare　up　at　the　stars。　His　plans　grew　so　definite　that　presently　he　was　in　his　dressing…　gown　and　turning　out　the　maps　in　the　lower　drawer　of　his　study　bureau。　　He　would　go　down　into　Surrey　with　a　knapsack；　wander　along　the　North　Downs　until　the　Guildford　gap　was　reached；　strike　across　the　Weald　country　to　the　South　Downs　and　then　beat　eastward。　　The　very　thought　of　it　brought　a　coolness　to　his　mind。　　He　knew　that　over　those　southern　hills　one　could　be　as　lonely　as　in　the　wilderness　and　as　free　to　talk　to　God。　　And　there　he　would　settle　something。　　He　would　make　a　plan　for　his　life　and　end　this　torment。　When　Merkle　came　in　to　him　in　the　morning　he　was　fast　asleep。　The　familiar　curtain　rings　awakened　Benham。　　He　turned　his　head　over；　stared　for　a　moment　and　then　remembered。　〃Merkle；〃　he　said；　〃I　am　going　for　a　walking　tour。　　I　am　going　off　this　morning。　　Haven't　I　a　rucksack？〃　〃You　‘ave　a　sort　of　canvas　bag；　sir；　with　pockets　to　it；〃　said　Merkle。　　〃Will　you　be　needing　the　VERY　‘eavy　boots　with　‘obnails　Swiss；　I　fancy；　siror　your　ordinary　shooting　boots？〃　〃And　when　may　I　expect　you　back；　sir？〃　asked　Merkle　as　the　moment　for　departure　drew　near。　〃God　knows；〃　said　Benham；　〃I　don't。〃　〃Then　will　there　be　any　address　for　forwarding　letters；　sir？〃　Benham　hadn't　thought　of　that。　　For　a　moment　he　regarded　Merkle's　scrupulous　respect　with　a　transient　perplexity。　　〃I'll　let　you　know；　Merkle；〃　he　said。　　〃I'll　let　you　know。〃　For　some　days　at　least；　notes；　telephone　messages；　engagements；　all　this　fuss　and　clamour　about　nothing；　should　clamour　for　him　in　vain。　。　。　。

11

〃But　how　closely；〃　cried　White；　in　a　mood　of　cultivated　enthusiasm；　〃how　closely　must　all　the　poor　little　stories　that　we　tell　to…day　follow　in　the　footsteps　of　the　Great　Exemplars！　　A　little　while　ago　and　the　springtime　freshness　of　Tobias　irradiated　the　page。　　Now　see！　it　is　Christian。〃　Indeed　it　looked　extremely　like　Christian　as　Benham　went　up　across　the　springy　turf　from　Epsom　Downs　station　towards　the　crest　of　the　hill。　　Was　he　not　also　fleeing　in　the　morning　sunlight　from　the　City　of　Destruction？　　Was　he　not　also　seeking　that　better　city　whose　name　is　Peace？　　And　there　was　a　bundle　on　his　back。　　It　was　the　bundle；　I　think；　that　seized　most　firmly　upon　the　too　literary　imagination　of　White。　But　the　analogy　of　the　bundle　was　a　superficial　one。　　Benham　had　not　the　slightest　desire　to　lose　it　from　his　shoulders。　　It　would　have　inconvenienced　him　very　greatly　if　he　had　done　so。　　It　did　not　contain　his　sins。　　Our　sins　nowadays　are　not　so　easily　separated。　It　contained　a　light；　warm　cape…coat　he　had　bought　in　Switzerland　and　which　he　intended　to　wrap　about　him　when　he　slept　under　the　stars；　and　in　addition　Merkle　had　packed　it　with　his　silk　pyjamas；　an　extra　pair　of　stockings；　tooth…brush；　brush　and　comb；　a　safety　razor。　。　。　。　　And　there　were　several　sheets　of　the　Ordnance　map。

12

The　urgency　of　getting　away　from　something　dominated　Benham　to　the　exclusion　of　any　thought　of　what　he　might　be　getting　to。　　That　muddle　of　his　London　life　had　to　be　left　behind。　　First；　escape。　。　。　。　Over　the　downs　great　numbers　of　larks　were　singing。　　It　was　warm　April　that　year　and　early。　　All　the　cloud　stuff　in　the　sky　was　gathered　into　great　towering　slow…sailing　masses；　and　the　rest　was　blue　of　the　intensest。　　The　air　was　so　clean　that　Benham　felt　it　clean　in　the　substance　of　his　body。　　The　chestnuts　down　the　hill　to　the　right　were　flowering；　the　beeches　were　luminously　green；　and　the　oaks　in　the　valley　foaming　gold。　　And　sometimes　it　was　one　lark　filled　his　ears；　and　sometimes　he　seemed　to　be　hearing　all　the　larks　for　miles　about　him。　　Presently　over　the　crest　he　would　be　out　of　sight　of　the　grand　stand　and　the　men　exercising　horses；　and　that　brace　of　red…jacketed　golfers。　。　。　。　What　was　he　to　do？　For　a　time　he　could　think　of　nothing　to　do　except　to　keep　up　and　out　of　the　valley。　　His　whole　being　seemed　to　have　come　to　his　surfaces　to　look　out　at　the　budding　of　the　year　and　hear　the　noise　of　the　birds。　　And　then　he　got　into　a　long　road　from　which　he　had　to　escape；　and　trespassing　southward　through　plantations　he　reached　the　steep　edge　of　the　hills　and　sat　down　over　above　a　great　chalk　pit　somewhere　near　Dorking　and　surveyed　all　the　tumbled　wooded　spaces　of　the　Weald。　。　。　。　　It　is　after　all　not　so　great　a　country　this　Sussex；　nor　so　hilly；　from　deepest　valley　to　highest　crest　is　not　six　hundred　feet；　yet　what　a　greatness　of　effect　it　can　achieve！　There　is　something　in　those　downland　views　which；　like　sea　views；　lifts　a　mind　out　to　the　skies。　　All　England　it　seemed　was　there　to　Benham's　vision；　and　the　purpose　of　the　English；　and　his　own　purpose　in　the　world。　　For　a　long　time　he　surveyed　the　large　delicacy　of　the　detail　before　him；　the　crests；　the　tree…protected　houses；　the　fields　and　farmsteads；　the　distant　gleams　of　water。　　And　then　he　became　interested　in　the　men　who　were　working　in　the　chalk　pit　down　below。　They　at　any　rate　were　not　troubled　with　the　problem　of　what　to　do　with　their　lives。

13

Benham　found　his　mind　was　now　running　clear；　and　so　abundantly　that　he　could　scarcely；　he　felt；　keep　pace　with　it。　　As　he　thought　his　flow　of　ideas　was　tinged　with　a　fear　that　he　might　forget　what　he　was　thinking。　　In　an　instant；　for　the　first　time　in　his　mental　existence；　he　could　have　imagined　he　had　discovered　Labour　and　seen　it　plain。　　A　little　while　ago　and　he　had　seemed　a　lonely　man　among　the　hills；　but　indeed　he　was　not　lonely；　these　men　had　been　with　him　all　the　time；　and　he　was　free　to　wander；　to　sit　here；　to　think　and　choose　simply　because　those　men　down　there　were　not　free。　　HE　WAS　SPENDING　THEIR　LEISURE。　。　。　。　　Not　once　but　many　times　with　Prothero　had　he　used　the　phrase　RICHESSE　OBLIGE。　　Now　he　remembered　it。　　He　began　to　remember　a　mass　of　ideas　that　had　been　overlaid　and　stifling　within　him。　　This　was　what　Merkle　and　the　club　servants　and　the　entertainments　and　engagements　and　his　mother　and　the　artistic　touts　and　the　theatrical　touts　and　the　hunting　and　the　elaboration　of　games　andMrs。　Skelmersdale　and　all　that　had　clustered　thickly　round　him　in　London　had　been　hiding　from　him。　　Those　men　below　there　had　not　been　trusted　to　choose　their　work；　they　had　been　given　it。　And　he　had　been　trusted。　。　。　。　And　now　to　grapple　with　it！　　Now　to　get　it　clear！　　What　work　was　he　going　to　do？　　That　settled；　he　would　deal　with　his　distractions　readily　enough。　　Until　that　was　settled　he　was　lax　and　exposed　to　every　passing　breeze　of　invitation。　〃What　work　am　I　going　to　do？　　What　work　am　I　going　to　do？〃　　He　repeated　it。　It　is　the　only　question　for　the　aristocrat。　　What　amusement？　　That　for　a　footman　on　holiday。　　That　for　a　silly　child；　for　any　creature　that　is　kept　or　led　or　driven。　　That　perhaps　for　a　tired　invalid；　for　a　toiler　worked　to　a　rag。　　But　able…bodied　amusement！　　The　arms　of　Mrs。　Skelmersdale　were　no　worse　than　the　solemn　aimlessness　of　hunting；　and　an　evening　of　dalliance　not　an　atom　more　reprehensible