manalive-第9章

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the　doors　into　the　garden。　　At　the　same　time　also；　with　one　of　his
gestures　that　never　seemed　at　the　instant　so　unconventional　as　they　were；
he　stretched　out　his　hand　to　Mary　Gray；　and　led　her　out　on　to　the　lawn
as　if　for　a　dance。

The　French　windows；　thus　flung　open；　let　in　an　evening　even　lovelier　than　that
of　the　day　before。　　The　west　was　swimming　with　sanguine　colours；　and　a　sort
of　sleepy　flame　lay　along　the　lawn。　　The　twisted　shadows　of　the　one　or　two
garden　trees　showed　upon　this　sheen；　not　gray　or　black；　as　in　common　daylight；
but　like　arabesques　written　in　vivid　violet　ink　on　some　page　of　Eastern　gold。
The　sunset　was　one　of　those　festive　and　yet　mysterious　conflagrations　in
which　common　things　by　their　colours　remind　us　of　costly　or　curious　things。
The　slates　upon　the　sloping　roof　burned　like　the　plumes　of　a　vast　peacock；
in　every　mysterious　blend　of　blue　and　green。　　The　red…brown　bricks　of
the　wall　glowed　with　all　the　October　tints　of　strong　ruby　and　tawny　wines。
The　sun　seemed　to　set　each　object　alight　with　a　different　coloured　flame；
like　a　man　lighting　fireworks；　and　even　Innocent's　hair；　which　was　of　a　rather
colourless　fairness；　seemed　to　have　a　flame　of　pagan　gold　on　it　as　he　strode
across　the　lawn　towards　the　one　tall　ridge　of　rockery。

〃What　would　be　the　good　of　gold；〃　he　was　saying；　〃if　it　did　not　glitter？
Why　should　we　care　for　a　black　sovereign　any　more　than　for　a
black　sun　at　noon？　　A　black　button　would　do　just　as　well。
Don't　you　see　that　everything　in　this　garden　looks　like　a　jewel？
And　will　you　kindly　tell　me　what　the　deuce　is　the　good　of　a　jewel
except　that　it　looks　like　a　jewel？　　Leave　off　buying　and　selling；
and　start　looking！　　Open　your　eyes；　and　you'll　wake　up　in
the　New　Jerusalem。

　　　　　　　　〃All　is　gold　that　glitters
　　　　　　　　　　　Tree　and　tower　of　brass；
　　　　　　　　　Rolls　the　golden　evening　air
　　　　　　　　　　　Down　the　golden　grass。
　　　　　　　　　Kick　the　cry　to　Jericho；
　　　　　　　　　　　How　yellow　mud　is　sold；
　　　　　　　　　All　is　gold　that　glitters；
　　　　　　　　　　　For　the　glitter　is　the　gold。〃


〃And　who　wrote　that？〃　asked　Rosamund；　amused。

〃No　one　will　ever　write　it；〃　answered　Smith；　and　cleared　the　rockery
with　a　flying　leap。

〃Really；〃　said　Rosamund　to　Michael　Moon；　〃he　ought　to　be　sent　to　an　asylum。
Don't　you　think　so？〃

〃I　beg　your　pardon；〃　inquired　Michael；　rather　sombrely；　his　long；
swarthy　head　was　dark　against　the　sunset；　and；　either　by　accident　or　mood；
he　had　the　look　of　something　isolated　and　even　hostile　amid　the　social
extravagance　of　the　garden。

〃I　only　said　Mr。　Smith　ought　to　go　to　an　asylum；〃　repeated　the　lady。

The　lean　face　seemed　to　grow　longer　and　longer；　for　Moon　was
unmistakably　sneering。　　〃No；〃　he　said；　〃I　don't　think　it's
at　all　necessary。〃

〃What　do　you　mean？〃　asked　Rosamund　quickly。　　〃Why　not？〃

〃Because　he　is　in　one　now；〃　answered　Michael　Moon；　in　a　quiet　but　ugly　voice。
〃Why；　didn't　you　know？〃

〃What？〃　cried　the　girl；　and　there　was　a　break　in　her　voice；
for　the　Irishman's　face　and　voice　were　really　almost　creepy。
With　his　dark　figure　and　dark　sayings　in　all　that　sunshine
he　looked　like　the　devil　in　paradise。

〃I'm　sorry；〃　he　continued；　with　a　sort　of　harsh　humility。
〃Of　course　we　don't　talk　about　it　much。。。　but　I　thought　we
all　really　knew。〃

〃Knew　what？〃

〃Well；〃　answered　Moon；　〃that　Beacon　House　is　a　certain　rather　singular
sort　of　housea　house　with　the　tiles　loose；　shall　we　say？　　Innocent　Smith
is　only　the　doctor　that　visits　us；　hadn't　you　come　when　he　called　before？
As　most　of　our　maladies　are　melancholic；　of　course　he　has　to　be　extra　cheery。
Sanity；　of　course；　seems　a　very　bumptious　eccentric　thing　to　us。
Jumping　over　a　wall；　climbing　a　treethat's　his　bedside　manner。〃

〃You　daren't　say　such　a　thing！〃　cried　Rosamund　in　a　rage。
〃You　daren't　suggest　that　I〃

〃Not　more　than　I　am；〃　said　Michael　soothingly；　〃not　more　than　the　rest　of　us。
Haven't　you　ever　noticed　that　Miss　Duke　never　sits　stilla　notorious　sign？
Haven't　you　ever　observed　that　Inglewood　is　always　washing　his　hands
a　known　mark　of　mental　disease？　　I；　of　course；　am　a　dipsomaniac。〃

〃I　don't　believe　you；〃　broke　out　his　companion；　not　without　agitation。
〃I've　heard　you　had　some　bad　habits〃

〃All　habits　are　bad　habits；〃　said　Michael；　with　deadly　calm。
〃Madness　does　not　come　by　breaking　out；　but　by　giving　in；　by　settling　down
in　some　dirty；　little；　self…repeating　circle　of　ideas；　by　being　tamed。
YOU　went　mad　about　money；　because　you're　an　heiress。〃

〃It's　a　lie；〃　cried　Rosamund　furiously。　　〃I　never　was　mean　about　money。〃

〃You　were　worse；〃　said　Michael；　in　a　low　voice　and　yet　violently。
〃You　thought　that　other　people　were。　　You　thought　every　man　who　came　near
you　must　be　a　fortune…hunter；　you　would　not　let　yourself　go　and　be　sane；
and　now　you're　mad　and　I'm　mad；　and　serve　us　right。〃

〃You　brute！〃　said　Rosamund；　quite　white。　　〃And　is　this　true？〃

With　the　intellectual　cruelty　of　which　the　Celt　is　capable
when　his　abysses　are　in　revolt；　Michael　was　silent　for
some　seconds；　and　then　stepped　back　with　an　ironical　bow。
〃Not　literally　true；　of　course；〃　he　said；　〃only　really　true。
An　allegory；　shall　we　say？　a　social　satire。〃

〃And　I　hate　and　despise　your　satires；〃　cried　Rosamund　Hunt；
letting　loose　her　whole　forcible　female　personality　like　a　cyclone；
and　speaking　every　word　to　wound。　　〃I　despise　it　as　I　despise
your　rank　tobacco；　and　your　nasty；　loungy　ways；　and　your　snarling；
and　your　Radicalism；　and　your　old　clothes；　and　your　potty
little　newspaper；　and　your　rotten　failure　at　everything。
I　don't　care　whether　you　call　it　snobbishness　or　not；　I　like
life　and　success；　and　jolly　things　to　look　at；　and　action。
You　won't　frighten　me　with　Diogenes；　I　prefer　Alexander。〃

〃Victrix　causa　deae〃　said　Michael　gloomily；　and　this　angered
her　more；　as；　not　knowing　what　it　meant；　she　imagined　it
to　be　witty。

〃Oh；　I　dare　say　you　know　Greek；〃　she　said；　with　cheerful　inaccuracy；
〃you　haven't　done　much　with　that　either。〃　　And　she　crossed　the　garden；
pursuing　the　vanished　Innocent　and　Mary。

In　doing　so　she　passed　Inglewood；　who　was　returning　to　the　house　slowly；
and　with　a　thought…clouded　brow。　　He　was　one　of　those　men　who　are
quite　clever；　but　quite　the　reverse　of　quick。　　As　he　came　back
out　of　the　sunset　garden　into　the　twilight　parlour；　Diana　Duke
slipped　swiftly　to　her　feet　and　began　putting　away　the　tea　things。
But　it　was　not　before　Inglewood　had　seen　an　instantaneous　picture　so　unique
that　he　might　well　have　snapshotted　it　with　his　everlasting　camera。
For　Diana　had　been　sitting　in　front　of　her　unfinished　work　with　her　chin
on　her　hand；　looking　straight　out　of　the　window　in　pure　thoughtless　thought。

〃You　are　busy；〃　said　Arthur；　oddly　embarrassed　with　what　he　had　seen；
and　wishing　to　ignore　it。

〃There's　no　time　for　dreaming　in　this　world；〃　answered　the　young　lady
with　her　back　to　him。

〃I　have　been　thinking　lately；〃　said　Inglewood　in　a　low　voice；
〃that　there's　no　time　for　waking　up。〃

She　did　not　reply；　and　he　walked　to　the　window　and　looked　out　on　the　garden。

〃I　don't　smoke　or　drink；　you　know；〃　he　said　irrelevantly；
〃because　I　think　they're　drugs。　　And　yet　I　fancy　all　hobbies；
like　my　camera　and　bicycle；　are　drugs　too。　　Getting　under　a
black　hood；　getting　into　a　dark　roomgetting　into　a　hole　anyhow。
Drugging　myself　with　speed；　and　sunshine；　and　fatigue；　and　fresh　air。
Pedalling　the　machine　so　fast　that　I　turn　into　a　machine　myself。
That's　the　matter　with　all　of　us。　　We're　too　busy　to　wake　up。〃

〃Well；〃　said　the　girl　solidly；　〃what　is　there　to　wake　up　to？〃

〃There　must　be！〃　cried　Inglewood；　turning　round　in　a　singular
excitement〃there　must　be　something　to　wake　up　to！
All　we　do　is　preparationsyour　cleanliness；　and　my　healthiness；
and　Warner's　scientific　appliances。　　We're　always　preparing
for　somethingsomething　that　never　comes　off。　　I　ventilate
the　house；　and　you　sweep　the　house；　but　what　is　going　to　HAPPEN
in　the　house？〃

She　was　looking　at　him　quietly；　but　with　very　bright　eyes；
and　seemed　to　be　searching　for　some　form　of　words　which　she
could　not　find。

Before　she　could　speak　the　door　burst　open；　and　the　boisterous　Rosamund　Hunt；
in　her　flamboyant　white　hat；　boa；　and　parasol；　stood　framed　i