the island pharisees-第5章
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image of an English day。
One afternoon he had taken her to play tennis with some friends; and
afterwards they strolled on to her favourite view。 Down the Toulon
road gardens and hills were bathed in the colour of ripe apricot; an
evening crispness had stolen on the air; the blood; released from the
sun's numbing; ran gladly in the veins。 On the right hand of the
road was a Frenchman playing bowls。 Enormous; busy; pleased; and
upright as a soldier; pathetically trotting his vast carcass from end
to end; he delighted Shelton。 But Antonia threw a single look at the
huge creature; and her face expressed disgust。 She began running up
towards the ruined tower。
Shelton let her keep in front; watching her leap from stone to stone
and throw back defiant glances when he pressed behind。 She stood at
the top; and he looked up at her。 Over the world; gloriously spread
below; she; like a statue; seemed to rule。 The colour was brilliant
in her cheeks; her young bosom heaved; her eyes shone; and the
flowing droop of her long; full sleeves gave to her poised figure the
look of one who flies。 He pulled himself up and stood beside her;
his heart choked him; all the colour had left his cheeks。
〃Antonia;〃 he said; 〃I love you。〃
She started; as if his whisper had intruded on her thoughts; but his
face must have expressed his hunger; for the resentment in her eyes
vanished。
They stood for several minutes without speaking; and then went home。
Shelton painfully revolved the riddle of the colour in her face。 Had
he a chance then? Was it possible? That evening the instinct
vouchsafed at times to lovers in place of reason caused him to pack
his bag and go to Cannes。 On returning; two days later; and
approaching the group in the centre of the Winter Garden; the voice
of the maiden aunt reading aloud an extract from the Morning Post
reached him across the room。
〃Don't you think that's rather nice?〃 he heard her ask; and then:
〃Oh; here you aye! It's very nice to see you back!〃
Shelton slipped into a wicker chair。 Antonia looked up quickly from
her sketch…book; put out a hand; but did not speak。
He watched her bending head; and his eagerness was changed to gloom。
With desperate vivacity he sustained the five intolerable minutes of
inquiry; where had he been; what had he been doing? Then once again
the maiden aunt commenced her extracts from the Morning Post。
A touch on his sleeve startled him。 Antonia was leaning forward; her
cheeks were crimson above the pallor of her neck。
〃Would you like to see my sketches?〃
To Shelton; bending above those sketches; that drawl of the well…bred
maiden aunt intoning the well…bred paper was the most pleasant sound
that he had ever listened to。
〃My dear Dick;〃 Mrs。 Dennant said to him a fortnight later; 〃we would
rather; after you leave here; that you don't see each other again
until July。 Of course I know you count it an engagement and all
that; and everybody's been writin' to congratulate you。 But Algie
thinks you ought to give yourselves a chance。 Young people don't
always know what they're about; you know; it's not long to wait。〃
〃Three months!〃 gasped Shelton。
He had to swallow down this pill with what grace he could command。
There was no alternative。 Antonia had acquiesced in the condition
with a queer; grave pleasure; as if she expected it to do her good。
〃It'll be something to look forward to; Dick;〃 she said。
He postponed departure as long as possible; and it was not until the
end of April that he left for England。 She came alone to see him
off。 It was drizzling; but her tall; slight figure in the golf cape
looked impervious to cold and rain amongst the shivering natives。
Desperately he clutched her hand; warm through the wet glove; her
smile seemed heartless in its brilliancy。 He whispered 〃You will
write?〃
〃Of course; don't be so stupid; you old Dick!〃
She ran forward as the train began to move; her clear 〃Good…bye!〃
sounded shrill and hard above the rumble of the wheels。 He saw her
raise her hand; an umbrella waving; and last of all; vivid still
amongst receding shapes; the red spot of her scarlet tam…o'…shanter。
CHAPTER III
A ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN
After his journey up from Dover; Shelton was still fathering his
luggage at Charing Cross; when the foreign girl passed him; and; in
spite of his desire to say something cheering; he could get nothing
out but a shame…faced smile。 Her figure vanished; wavering into the
hurly…burly; one of his bags had gone astray; and so all thought of
her soon faded from his mind。 His cab; however; overtook the foreign
vagrant marching along towards Pall Mall with a curious; lengthy
stridean observant; disillusioned figure。
The first bustle of installation over; time hung heavy on his hands。
July loomed distant; as in some future century; Antonia's eyes
beckoned him faintly; hopelessly。 She would not even be coming back
to England for another month。
。 。 。 I met a young foreigner in the train from Dover 'he wrote to
her'a curious sort of person altogether; who seems to have infected
me。 Everything here has gone flat and unprofitable; the only good
things in life are your letters 。 。 。 。 John Noble dined with me
yesterday; the poor fellow tried to persuade me to stand for
Parliament。 Why should I think myself fit to legislate for the
unhappy wretches one sees about in the streets? If people's faces
are a fair test of their happiness; I' d rather not feel in any way
responsible 。 。 。 。
The streets; in fact; after his long absence in the East; afforded
him much food for thought: the curious smugness of the passers…by;
the utterly unending bustle; the fearful medley of miserable; over…
driven women; and full…fed men; with leering; bull…beef eyes; whom he
saw everywherein club windows; on their beats; on box seats; on the
steps of hotels; discharging dilatory duties; the appalling choas of
hard…eyed; capable dames with defiant clothes; and white…cheeked
hunted…looking men; of splendid creatures in their cabs; and cadging
creatures in their broken hatsthe callousness and the monotony!
One afternoon in May he received this letter couched in French:
3; BLANK ROW
WESTMINSTER。
MY DEAR SIR;
Excuse me for recalling to your memory the offer of assistance you so
kindly made me during the journey from Dover to London; in which I
was so fortunate as to travel with a man like you。 Having beaten the
whole town; ignorant of what wood to make arrows; nearly at the end
of my resources; my spirit profoundly discouraged; I venture to avail
myself of your permission; knowing your good heart。 Since I saw you
I have run through all the misfortunes of the calendar; and cannot
tell what door is left at which I have not knocked。 I presented
myself at the business firm with whose name you supplied me; but
being unfortunately in rags; they refused to give me your address。
Is this not very much in the English character? They told me to
write; and said they would forward the letter。 I put all my hopes in
you。
Believe me; my dear sir;
(whatever you may decide)
Your devoted
LOUIS FERRAND。
Shelton looked at the envelope; and saw; that it; bore date a week
ago。 The face of the young vagrant rose before him; vital; mocking;
sensitive; the sound of his quick French buzzed in his ears; and;
oddly; the whole whiff of him had a power of raising more vividly
than ever his memories of Antonia。 It had been at the end of the
journey from Hyeres to London that he had met him; that seemed to
give the youth a claim。
He took his hat and hurried; to Blank Row。 Dismissing his cab at the
corner of Victoria Street he with difficulty found the house in
question。 It was a door