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第52章

st. ives-第52章

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wearied of the thing … or grew ashamed of it … and put all the 

money back where it had come from: there let it take its chance; 

like better people!  In short; I set Rowley a poor example of 

consistency; and in philosophy; none at all。



Little he cared!  All was one to him so long as he was amused; and 

I never knew any one amused more easily。  He was thrillingly 

interested in life; travel; and his own melodramatic position。  All 

day he would be looking from the chaise windows with ebullitions of 

gratified curiosity; that were sometimes justified and sometimes 

not; and that (taken altogether) it occasionally wearied me to be 

obliged to share。  I can look at horses; and I can look at trees 

too; although not fond of it。  But why should I look at a lame 

horse; or a tree that was like the letter Y?  What exhilaration 

could I feel in viewing a cottage that was the same colour as 'the 

second from the miller's' in some place where I had never been; and 

of which I had not previously heard?  I am ashamed to complain; but 

there were moments when my juvenile and confidential friend weighed 

heavy on my hands。  His cackle was indeed almost continuous; but it 

was never unamiable。  He showed an amiable curiosity when he was 

asking questions; an amiable guilelessness when he was conferring 

information。  And both he did largely。  I am in a position to write 

the biographies of Mr。 Rowley; Mr。 Rowley's father and mother; his 

Aunt Eliza; and the miller's dog; and nothing but pity for the 

reader; and some misgivings as to the law of copyright; prevail on 

me to withhold them。



A general design to mould himself upon my example became early 

apparent; and I had not the heart to check it。  He began to mimic 

my carriage; he acquired; with servile accuracy; a little manner I 

had of shrugging the shoulders; and I may say it was by observing 

it in him that I first discovered it in myself。  One day it came 

out by chance that I was of the Catholic religion。  He became 

plunged in thought; at which I was gently glad。  Then suddenly …



'Odd…rabbit it!  I'll be Catholic too!' he broke out。  'You must 

teach me it; Mr。 Anne … I mean; Ramornie。'



I dissuaded him: alleging that he would find me very imperfectly 

informed as to the grounds and doctrines of the Church; and that; 

after all; in the matter of religions; it was a very poor idea to 

change。  'Of course; my Church is the best;' said I; 'but that is 

not the reason why I belong to it: I belong to it because it was 

the faith of my house。  I wish to take my chances with my own 

people; and so should you。  If it is a question of going to hell; 

go to hell like a gentleman with your ancestors。'



'Well; it wasn't that;' he admitted。  'I don't know that I was 

exactly thinking of hell。  Then there's the inquisition; too。  

That's rather a cawker; you know。'



'And I don't believe you were thinking of anything in the world;' 

said I … which put a period to his respectable conversion。



He consoled himself by playing for awhile on a cheap flageolet; 

which was one of his diversions; and to which I owed many intervals 

of peace。  When he first produced it; in the joints; from his 

pocket; he had the duplicity to ask me if I played upon it。  I 

answered; no; and he put the instrument away with a sigh and the 

remark that he had thought I might。  For some while he resisted the 

unspeakable temptation; his fingers visibly itching and twittering 

about his pocket; even his interest in the landscape and in 

sporadic anecdote entirely lost。  Presently the pipe was in his 

hands again; he fitted; unfitted; refitted; and played upon it in 

dumb show for some time。



'I play it myself a little;' says he。



'Do you?' said I; and yawned。



And then he broke down。



'Mr。  Ramornie; if you please; would it disturb you; sir; if I was 

to play a chune?' he pleaded。  And from that hour; the tootling of 

the flageolet cheered our way。



He was particularly keen on the details of battles; single combats; 

incidents of scouting parties; and the like。  These he would make 

haste to cap with some of the exploits of Wallace; the only hero 

with whom he had the least acquaintance。  His enthusiasm was 

genuine and pretty。  When he learned we were going to Scotland; 

'Well; then;' he broke out; 'I'll see where Wallace lived!'  And 

presently after; he fell to moralising。  'It's a strange thing; 

sir;' he began; 'that I seem somehow to have always the wrong sow 

by the ear。  I'm English after all; and I glory in it。  My eye! 

don't I; though!  Let some of your Frenchies come over here to 

invade; and you'll see whether or not!  Oh; yes; I'm English to the 

backbone; I am。  And yet look at me!  I got hold of this 'ere 

William Wallace and took to him right off; I never heard of such a 

man before!  And then you came along; and I took to you。  And both 

the two of you were my born enemies!  I … I beg your pardon; Mr。 

Ramornie; but would you mind it very much if you didn't go for to 

do anything against England' … he brought the word out suddenly; 

like something hot … 'when I was along of you?'



I was more affected than I can tell。



'Rowley;' I said; 'you need have no fear。  By how much I love my 

own honour; by so much I will take care to protect yours。  We are 

but fraternising at the outposts; as soldiers do。  When the bugle 

calls; my boy; we must face each other; one for England; one for 

France; and may God defend the right!'



So I spoke at the moment; but for all my brave airs; the boy had 

wounded me in a vital quarter。  His words continued to ring in my 

hearing。  There was no remission all day of my remorseful thoughts; 

and that night (which we lay at Lichfield; I believe) there was no 

sleep for me in my bed。  I put out the candle and lay down with a 

good resolution; and in a moment all was light about me like a 

theatre; and I saw myself upon the stage of it playing ignoble 

parts。  I remembered France and my Emperor; now depending on the 

arbitrament of war; bent down; fighting on their knees and with 

their teeth against so many and such various assailants。  And I 

burned with shame to be here in England; cherishing an English 

fortune; pursuing an English mistress; and not there; to handle a 

musket in my native fields; and to manure them with my body if I 

fell。  I remembered that I belonged to France。  All my fathers had 

fought for her; and some had died; the voice in my throat; the 

sight of my eyes; the tears that now sprang there; the whole man of 

me; was fashioned of French earth and born of a French mother; I 

had been tended and caressed by a succession of the daughters of 

France; the fairest; the most ill…starred; and I had fought and 

conquered shoulder to shoulder with her sons。  A soldier; a noble; 

of the proudest and bravest race in Europe; it had been left to the 

prattle of a hobbledehoy lackey in an English chaise to recall me 

to the consciousness of duty。



When I saw how it was I did not lose time in indecision。  The old 

classical conflict of love and honour being once fairly before me; 

it did not cost me a thought。  I was a Saint…Yves de Keroual; and I 

decided to strike off on the morrow for Wakefield and Burchell 

Fenn; and embark; as soon as it should be morally possible; for the 

succour of my downtrodden fatherland and my beleaguered Emperor。  

Pursuant on this resolve; I leaped from bed; made a light; and as 

the watchman was crying half…past two in the dark streets of 

Lichfield; sat down to pen a letter of farewell to Flora。  And then 

… whether it was the sudden chill of the night; whether it came by 

association of ideas from the remembrance of Swanston Cottage I 

know not; but there appeared before me … to the barking of sheep…

dogs … a couple of snuffy and shambling figures; each wrapped in a 

plaid; each armed with a rude staff; and I was immediately bowed 


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