the patrician-第52章

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of　his　belongings　in　two　tin　trunks　and　placed　them　in　a　cupboard
which　smelled　a　little　of　mice。　　When　he　reappeared　the　trunks　were
reopened；　and　a　powerful　scent　of　dried　rose…leaves　would　escape。
For；　recognizing　the　mortality　of　things　human；　she　procured　every
summer　from　her　sister；　the　wife　of　a　market　gardener；　a　consignment
of　this　commodity；　which　she　passionately　sewed　up　in　bags；　and
continued　to　deposit　year　by　year；　in　Courtier's　trunks。

This；　and　the　way　she　made　his　toastvery　crispand　aired　his
linenvery　dry；　were　practically　the　only　things　she　could　do　for　a
man　naturally　inclined　to　independence；　and　accustomed　from　his
manner　of　life　to　fend　for　himself。

At　first　signs　of　his　departure　she　would　go　into　some　closet　or
other；　away　from　the　plumber　and　the　two　marks　of　his　affection；　and
cry　quietly；　but　never　in　Courtier's　presence　did　she　dream　of
manifesting　griefas　soon　weep　in　the　presence　of　death　or　birth；　or
any　other　fundamental　tragedy　or　joy。　　In　face　of　the　realities　of
life　she　had　known　from　her　youth　up　the　value　of　the　simple　verb
'stostare…to　stand　fast。'

And　to　her　Courtier　was　a　reality；　the　chief　reality　of　life；　the
focus　of　her　aspiration；　the　morning　and　the　evening　star。

The　request；　then　five　days　after　his　farewell　visit　to　Mrs。　Noel
for　the　elephant…hide　trunk　which　accompanied　his　rovings；　produced
her　habitual　period　of　seclusion；　followed　by　her　habitual　appearance
in　his　sitting…room　bearing　a　note；　and　some　bags　of　dried　rose
leaves　on　a　tray。　　She　found　him　in　his　shirt　sleeves；　packing。

〃Well；　Mrs。　Benton；　off　again！〃

Mrs。　Benton；　plaiting　her　hands；　for　she　had　not　yet　lost　something
of　the　look　and　manner　of　a　little　girl；　answered　in　her　flat；　but
serene　voice：

〃Yes；　sir；　and　I　hope　you're　not　going　anywhere　very　dangerous　this
time。　　I　always　think　you　go　to　such　dangerous　places。〃

〃To　Persia；　Mrs。　Benton；　where　the　carpets　come　from。〃

〃Oh！　yes；　sir。　　Your　washing's　just　come　home。〃

Her；　apparently　cast…down；　eyes　stored　up　a　wealth　of　little　details；
the　way　his　hair　grew；　the　set　of　his　back；　the　colour　of　his　braces。
But　suddenly　she　said　in　a　surprising　voice：

〃You　haven't　a　photograph　you　could　spare；　sir；　to　leave　behind？　　Mr。
Benton　was　only　saying　to　me　yesterday；　we've　nothing　to　remember　him
by；　in　case　he　shouldn't　come　back。〃

〃Here's　an　old　one。〃

Mrs。　Benton　took　the　photograph。

〃Oh！〃　she　said；　〃you　can　see　who　it　is。〃　　And　holding　it　perhaps　too
tightly；　for　her　fingers　trembled；　she　added：

〃A　note；　please；　sir；　and　the　messenger　boy　is　waiting　foran
answer。〃

While　he　read　the　note　she　noticed　with　concern　how　packing　had
brought　the　blood　into　his　head。。。。

When；　in　response　to　that　note；　Courtier　entered　the　well…known
confectioner's　called　Gustard's；　it　was　still　not　quite　tea…time；　and
there　seemed　to　him　at　first　no　one　in　the　room　save　three　middle…
aged　women　packing　sweets；　then　in　the　corner　he　saw　Barbara。　　The
blood　was　no　longer　in　his　head；　he　was　pale；　walking　down　that
mahogany…coloured　room　impregnated　with　the　scent　of　wedding…cake。
Barbara；　too；　was　pale。

So　close　to　her　that　he　could　count　her　every　eyelash；　and　inhale　the
scent　of　her　hair　and　clothes　to　listen　to　her　story　of　Miltoun；　so
hesitatingly；　so　wistfully　told；　seemed　very　like　being　kept　waiting
with　the　rope　already　round　his　neck；　to　hear　about　another　person's
toothache。　　He　felt　this　to　have　been　unnecessary　on　the　part　of
Fate！　　And　there　came　to　him　perversely　the　memory　of　that　ride　over
the　sun…warmed　heather；　when　he　had　paraphrased　the　old　Sicilian
song：　'Here　will　I　sit　and　sing。'　　He　was　a　long　way　from　singing
now；　nor　was　there　love　in　his　arms。　　There　was　instead　a　cup　of　tea；
and　in　his　nostrils　the　scent　of　cake；　with　now　and　then　a　whiff　of
orange…flower　water。

〃I　see；〃　he　said；　when　she　had　finished　telling　him：　〃'Liberty's　a
glorious　feast！'　You　want　me　to　go　to　your　brother；　and　quote　Bums？
You　know；　of　course；　that　he　regards　me　as　dangerous。〃

〃Yes；　but　he　respects　and　likes　you。〃

〃And　I　respect　and　like　him；〃　answered　Courtier。

One　of　the　middle…aged　females　passed；　carrying　a　large　white　card…
board　box；　and　the　creaking　of　her　stays　broke　the　hush。

〃You　have　been　very　sweet　to　me；〃　said　Barbara；　suddenly。

Courtier's　heart　stirred；　as　if　it　were　turning　over　within　him；　and
gazing　into　his　teacup；　he　answered

〃All　men　are　decent　to　the　evening　star。　　I　will　go　at　once　and　find
your　brother。　　When　shall　I　bring　you　news？〃

〃To…morrow　at　five　I'll　be　at　home。〃

And　repeating；　〃To…morrow　at　five；〃　he　rose。


Looking　back　from　the　door；　he　saw　her　face　puzzled；　rather
reproachful；　and　went　out　gloomily。　　The　scent　of　cake；　and　orange…
flower　water；　the　creaking　of　the　female's　stays；　the　colour　of
mahogany；　still　clung　to　his　nose　and　ears；　and　eyes；　but　within　him
it　was　all　dull　baffled　rage。　　Why　had　he　not　made　the　most　of　this
unexpected　chance；　why　had　he　not　made　desperate　love　to　her？　　A
conscientious　ass！　　And　yetthe　whole　thing　was　absurd！　　She　was　so
young！　　God　knew　he　would　be　glad　to　be　out　of　it。　　If　he　stayed　he
was　afraid　that　he　would　play　the　fool。　　But　the　memory　of　her　words：
〃You　have　been　very　sweet　to　me！〃　　would　not　leave　him；　nor　the
memory　of　her　face；　so　puzzled；　and　reproachful。　　Yes；　if　he　stayed
he　would　play　the　fool！　　He　would　be　asking　her　to　marry　a　man　double
her　age；　of　no　position　but　that　which　he　had　carved　for　himself；　and
without　a　rap。　　And　he　would　be　asking　her　in　such　a　way　that　she
might　possibly　have　some　little　difficulty　in　refusing。　　He　would　be
letting　himself　go。　　And　she　was　only　twentyfor　all　her　woman…of…
the…world　air；　a　child！　　No！　　He　would　be　useful　to　her；　if　possible；
this　once；　and　then　clear　out！




CHAPTER　XXI

When　Miltoun　left　Valleys　House　he　walked　in　the　direction　of
Westminster。　　During　the　five　days　that　he　had　been　back　in　London　he
had　not　yet　entered　the　House　of　Commons。　　After　the　seclusion　of　his
illness；　he　still　felt　a　yearning；　almost　painful；　towards　the
movement　and　stir　of　the　town。　　Everything　he　heard　and　saw　made　an
intensely　vivid　impression。　　The　lions　in　Trafalgar　Square；　the　great
buildings　of　Whitehall；　filled　him　with　a　sort　of　exultation。　　He　was
like　a　man；　who；　after　a　long　sea　voyage；　first　catches　sight　of
land；　and　stands　straining　his　eyes；　hardly　breathing；　taking　in　one
by　one　the　lost　features　of　that　face。　　He　walked　on　to　Westminster
Bridge；　and　going　to　an　embrasure　in　the　very　centre；　looked　back
towards　the　towers。

It　was　said　that　the　love　of　those　towers　passed　into　the　blood。　　It
was　said　that　he　who　had　sat　beneath　them　could　never　again　be　quite
the　same。　　Miltoun　knew　that　it　was　truedesperately　true；　of
himself。　　In　person　he　had　sat　there　but　three　weeks；　but　in　soul　he
seemed　to　have　been　sitting　there　hundreds　of　years。　　And　now　he
would　sit　there　no　more！　　An　almost　frantic　desire　to　free　himself
from　this　coil　rose　up　within　him。　　To　be　held　a　prisoner　by　that
most　secret　of　all　his　instincts；　the　instinct　for　authority！　　To　be
unable　to　wield　authority　because　to　wield　authority　was　to　insult
authority。　　God！　　It　was　hard！　　He　turned　his　back　on　the　towers；　and
sought　distraction　in　the　faces　of　the　passers…by。

Each　of　these；　he　knew；　had　his　struggle　to　keep　self…respect！　　Or
was　it　that　they　were　unconscious　of　struggle　or　of　self…respect；　and
just　let　things　drift？　　They　looked　like　that；　most　of　them！　　And　all
his　inherent　contempt　for　the　average　or　common　welled　up　as　he
watched　them。　　Yes；　they　looked　like　that！　　Ironically；　the　sight　of
those　from　whom　he　had　desired　the　comfort　of　compromise；　served
instead　to　stimulate　that　part　of　him　which　refused　to　let　him
compromise。　　They　looked　soft；　soggy；　without　pride　or　will；　as
though　they　knew　that　life　was　too　much　for　them；　and　had　shamefully
accepted　the　fact。　　They　so　obviously　needed　to　be　told　what　they
might　do；　and　which　way　they　should；　go；　they　would　accept　orders　as
they　accepted　their　work；　or　pleasures：　And　the　thought　that　he　was
now　debarred　from　the　right　to　give　them　orders；　rankled