the new machiavelli-第40章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



celebrated　her　return　by　giving　an　afternoon　reception　at　short　

notice；　with　the　clear　intention　of　letting　every　one　out　into　the　

garden　if　the　weather　held。



The　Seddons　had　a　big　old　farmhouse　modified　to　modern　ideas　of　

comfort　on　the　road　out　towards　Misterton；　with　an　orchard　that　had　

been　rather　pleasantly　subdued　from　use　to　ornament。　　It　had　rich　

blossoming　cherry　and　apple　trees。　　Large　patches　of　grass　full　of　

nodding　yellow　trumpets　had　been　left　amidst　the　not　too　precisely　

mown　grass；　which　was　as　it　were　grass　path　with　an　occasional　lapse　

into　lawn　or　glade。　　And　Margaret；　hatless；　with　the　fair　hair　above　

her　thin；　delicately　pink　face　very　simply　done；　came　to　meet　our　

rather　too　consciously　dressed　party；we　had　come　in　the　motor　four　

strong；　with　my　aunt　in　grey　silk。　　Margaret　wore　a　soft　flowing　

flowered　blue　dress　of　diaphanous　material；　all　unconnected　with　the　

fashion　and　tied　with　pretty　ribbons；　like　a　slenderer；　unbountiful　

Primavera。



It　was　one　of　those　May　days　that　ape　the　light　and　heat　of　summer；　

and　I　remember　disconnectedly　quite　a　number　of　brightly　lit　figures　

and　groups　walking　about；　and　a　white　gate　between　orchard　and　

garden　and　a　large　lawn　with　an　oak　tree　and　a　red　Georgian　house　

with　a　verandah　and　open　French　windows；　through　which　the　tea　

drinking　had　come　out　upon　the　moss…edged　flagstones　even　as　Mrs。　

Seddon　had　planned。



The　party　was　almost　entirely　feminine　except　for　a　little　curate　

with　a　large　head；　a　good　voice　and　a　radiant　manner；　who　was　

obviously　attracted　by　Margaret；　and　two　or　three　young　husbands　

still　sufficiently　addicted　to　their　wives　to　accompany　them。　　One　

of　them　I　recall　as　a　quite　romantic　figure　with　abundant　blond　

curly　hair　on　which　was　poised　a　grey　felt　hat　encircled　by　a　

refined　black　band。　　He　wore；　moreover；　a　loose　rich　shot　silk　tie　

of　red　and　purple；　a　long　frock　coat；　grey　trousers　and　brown　shoes；　

and　presently　he　removed　his　hat　and　carried　it　in　one　hand。　　There　

were　two　tennis…playing　youths　besides　myself。　　There　was　also　one　

father　with　three　daughters　in　anxious　control；　a　father　of　the　old　

school　scarcely　half　broken　in；　reluctant；　rebellious　and　

consciously　and　conscientiously　〃reet　Staffordshire。〃　　The　daughters　

were　all　alert　to　suppress　the　possible　plungings；　the　undesirable　

humorous　impulses　of　this　almost　feral　guest。　　They　nipped　his　very　

gestures　in　the　bud。　　The　rest　of　the　people　were　mainly　mothers　

with　daughtersdaughters　of　all　ages；　and　a　scattering　of　aunts；　

and　there　was　a　tendency　to　clotting；　parties　kept　together　and　

regarded　parties　suspiciously。　　Mr。　Seddon　was　in　hiding；　I　think；　

all　the　time；　though　not　formally　absent。



Matters　centred　upon　the　tea　in　the　long　room　of　the　French　windows；　

where　four　trim　maids　went　to　and　fro　busily　between　the　house　and　

the　clumps　of　people　seated　or　standing　before　it；　and　tennis　and　

croquet　were　intermittently　visible　and　audible　beyond　a　bank　of　

rockwork　rich　with　the　spikes　and　cups　and　bells　of　high　spring。



Mrs。　　Seddon　presided　at　the　tea　urn；　and　Margaret　partly　assisted　

and　partly　talked　to　me　and　my　cousin　SibylGertrude　had　found　a　

disused　and　faded　initial　and　was　partnering　him　at　tennis　in　a　

state　of　gentle　revivalwhile　their　mother　exercised　a　divided　

chaperonage　from　a　seat　near　Mrs。　Seddon。　　The　little　curate；　

stirring　a　partially　empty　cup　of　tea；　mingled　with　our　party；　and　

preluded；　I　remember；　every　observation　he　made　by　a　vigorous　

resumption　of　stirring。



We　talked　of　Cambridge；　and　Margaret　kept　us　to　it。　　The　curate　was　

a　Selwyn　man　and　had　taken　a　pass　degree　in　theology；　but　Margaret　

had　come　to　Gaylord's　lecturers　in　Trinity　for　a　term　before　her　

breakdown；　and　understood　these　differences。　　She　had　the　eagerness　

of　an　exile　to　hear　the　old　familiar　names　of　places　and　

personalities。　　We　capped　familiar　anecdotes　and　were　enthusiastic　

about　Kings'　Chapel　and　the　Backs；　and　the　curate；　addressing　

himself　more　particularly　to　Sibyl；　told　a　long　confused　story　

illustrative　of　his　disposition　to　reckless　devilry　（of　a　pure…

minded　kindly　sort）　about　upsetting　two　canoes　quite　needlessly　on　

the　way　to　Grantchester。



I　can　still　see　Margaret　as　I　saw　her　that　afternoon；　see　her　fresh　

fair　face；　with　the　little　obliquity　of　the　upper　lip；　and　her　brow　

always　slightly　knitted；　and　her　manner　as　of　one　breathlessly　shy　

but　determined。　　She　had　rather　open　blue　eyes；　and　she　spoke　in　an　

even　musical　voice　with　the　gentlest　of　stresses　and　the　ghost　of　a　

lisp。　　And　it　was　true；　she　gathered；　that　Cambridge　still　existed。　　

〃I　went　to　Grantchester；〃　she　said；　〃last　year；　and　had　tea　under　

the　apple…blossom。　　I　didn't　think　then　I　should　have　to　come　down。〃　　

（It　was　that　started　the　curate　upon　his　anecdote。）



〃I've　seen　a　lot　of　pictures；　and　learnt　a　lot　about　themat　the　

Pitti　and　the　Brera；the　Brera　is　wonderfulwonderful　places；but　

it　isn't　like　real　study；〃　she　was　saying　presently。　。　。　。　　〃We　

bought　bales　of　photographs；〃　she　said。



I　thought　the　bales　a　little　out　of　keeping。



But　fair…haired　and　quite　simply　and　yet　graciously　and　fancifully　

dressed；　talking　of　art　and　beautiful　things　and　a　beautiful　land；　

and　with　so　much　manifest　regret　for　learning　denied；　she　seemed　a　

different　kind　of　being　altogether　from　my　smart；　hard；　high…

coloured；　black…haired　and　resolutely　hatted　cousin；　she　seemed　

translucent　beside　Gertrude。　　Even　the　little　twist　and　droop　of　her　

slender　body　was　a　grace　to　me。



I　liked　her　from　the　moment　I　saw　her；　and　set　myself　to　interest　

and　please　her　as　well　as　I　knew　how。



We　recalled　a　case　of　ragging　that　had　rustled　the　shrubs　of　

Newnham；　and　then　Chris　Robinson's　visithe　had　given　a　talk　to　

Bennett　Hall　alsoand　our　impression　of　him。




〃He　disappointed　me；　too；〃　said　Margaret。



I　was　moved　to　tell　Margaret　something　of　my　own　views　in　the　matter　

of　social　progress；　and　she　listenedoh！　with　a　kind　of　urged　

attention；　and　her　brow　a　little　more　knitted；　very　earnestly。　　The　

little　curate　desisted　from　the　appendices　and　refuse　heaps　and　

general　debris　of　his　story；　and　made　himself　look　very　alert　and　

intelligent。



〃We　did　a　lot　of　that　when　I　was　up　in　the　eighties；〃　he　said。　　〃I'm　

glad　Imperialism　hasn't　swamped　you　fellows　altogether。〃



Gertrude；　looking　bright　and　confident；　came　to　join　our　talk　from　

the　shrubbery；　the　initial；　a　little　flushed　and　evidently　in　a　

state　of　refreshed　relationship；　came　with　her；　and　a　cheerful　lady　

in　pink　and　more　particularly　distinguished　by　a　pink　bonnet　joined　

our　little　group。　　Gertrude　had　been　sipping　admiration　and　was　not　

disposed　to　play　a　passive　part　in　the　talk。



〃Socialism！〃　she　cried；　catching　the　word。　　〃It's　well　Pa　isn't　

here。　　He　has　Fits　when　people　talk　of　socialism。　　Fits！〃



The　initial　laughed　in　a　general　kind　of　way。



The　curate　said　there　was　socialism　AND　socialism；　and　looked　at　

Margaret　to　gauge　whether　he　had　been　too　bold　in　this　utterance。　　

But　she　was　all；　he　perceived；　for　broad…mindness；　and　he　stirred　

himself　（and　incidentally　his　tea）　to　still　more　liberality　of　

expression。　　He　said　the　state　of　the　poor　was　appalling；　simply　

appalling；　that　there　were　times　when　he　wanted　to　shatter　the　whole　

system；　〃only；〃　he　said；　turning　to　me　appealingly；　〃What　have　we　

got　to　put　in　its　place？〃



〃The　thing　that　exists　is　always　the　more　evident　alternative；〃　I　

said。



The　little　curate　looked　at　it　for　a　moment。　　〃Precisely；〃　he　said　

explosively；　and　turned　stirring　and　with　his　head　a　little　on　one　

side；　to　hear　what　Margaret　was　saying。



Margaret　was　saying；　with　a　swift　blush　and　an　effect　of　daring；　

that　she　had　no　doubt　she　was　a　socialist。



〃And　wearing　a　gold　chain！〃　said　Gertrude；　〃And　drinking　out　of　

eggshell！　　I　like　that！