the trees of pride-第3章

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　it　I　am　doubtful　about。〃

While　she　stood　in　silence　he　slowly　lifted　his　black　stick　like　a　long　black　finger　and　pointed　it　at　the　peacock　trees　above　the　wood。　And　a　queer　feeling　of　disquiet　fell　on　the　girl；　as　if　he　were；　by　that　mere　gesture；　doing　a　destructive　act　and　could　send　a　blight　upon　the　garden。

The　strained　and　almost　painful　silence　was　broken　by　the　voice　of　Squire　Vane；　loud　even　while　it　was　still　distant。

〃We　couldn'tt　make　out　where　you'd　got　to；　Barbara；〃　he　said。　〃This　is　my　friend；　Mr。　Cyprian　Paynter。〃　　The　next　moment　he　saw　the　stranger　and　stopped；　a　little　puzzled。　　it　was　only　Mr。　Cyprian　Paynter　himself　who　was　equal　to　the　situation。　He　had　seen　months　ago　a　portrait　of　the　new　Cornish　poet　in　some　American　literary　magazine；　and　he　found　himself；　to　his　surprise；　the　introducer　instead　of　the　introduced。

〃Why；　Squire；〃　he　said　in　considerable　astonishment；　〃don't　you　know　Mr。　Treherne？　　I　supposed；　of　course；　he　was　a　neighbor。〃

〃Delighted　to　see　you；　Mr。　Treherne；〃　said　the　Squire；　recovering　his　manners　with　a　certain　genial　confusion。　〃So　pleased　you　were　able　to　come。　　This　is　Mr。　Paynter…my　daughter；〃　and；　turning　with　a　certain　boisterous　embarrassment；　he　led　the　way　to　the　table　under　the　tree。

Cyprian　Paynter　followed；　inwardly　revolving　a　puzzle　which　had　taken　even　his　experience　by　surprise。　　The　American；　if　intellectually　an　aristocrat；　was　still　socially　and　subconsciously　a　democrat。　It　had　never　crossed　his　mind　that　the　poet　should　be　counted　lucky　to　know　the　squire　and　not　the　squire　to　know　the　poet。　The　honest　patronage　in　Vane's　hospitality　was　something　which　made　Paynter　feel　he　was；　after　all；　an　exile　in　England。

The　Squire；　anticipating　the　trial　of　luncheon　with　a　strange　literary　man；　had　dealt　with　the　case　tactfully　from　his　own　standpoint。　County　society　might　have　made　the　guest　feel　like　a　fish　out　of　water；　and；　except　for　the　American　critic　and　the　local　lawyer　and　doctor；　worthy　middle…class　people　who　fitted　into　the　picture；　he　had　kept　it　as　a　family　party。　　He　was　a　widower；　and　when　the　meal　had　been　laid　out　on　the　garden　table；　it　was　Barbara　who　presided　as　hostess。　　She　had　the　new　poet　on　her　right　hand　and　it　made　her　very　uncomfortable。　She　had　practically　offered　that　fallacious　jongleur　money；　and　it　did　not　make　it　easier　to　offer　him　lunch。

〃The　whole　countryside's　gone　mad；〃　announced　the　Squire；　by　way　of　the　latest　local　news。　　〃It's　about　this　infernal　legend　of　ours。〃

〃I　collect　legends；〃　said　Paynter；　smiling。

〃You　must　remember　I　haven't　yet　had　a　chance　to　collect　yours。　And　this；〃　he　added；　looking　round　at　the　romantic　coast；　〃is　a　fine　theater　for　anything　dramatic。〃

〃Oh；　it's　dramatic　in　its　way；〃　admitted　Vane；　not　without　a　faint　satisfaction。　　〃It's　all　about　those　things　over　there　we　call　the　peacock　treesI　suppose；　because　of　the　queer　color　of　the　leaf；　you　know；　though　I　have　heard　they　make　a　shrill　noise　in　a　high　wind　that's　supposed　to　be　like　the　shriek　of　a　peacock；　something　like　a　bamboo　in　the　botanical　structure；　perhaps。　Well；　those　trees　are　supposed　to　have　been　brought　over　from　Barbary　by　my　ancestor　Sir　Walter　Vane；　one　of　the　Elizabethan　patriots　or　pirates；　or　whatever　you　call　them。　They　say　that　at　the　end　of　his　last　voyage　the　villagers　gathered　on　the　beach　down　there　and　saw　the　boat　standing　in　from　the　sea；　and　the　new　trees　stood　up　in　the　boat　like　a　mast；　all　gay　with　leaves　out　of　season；　like　green　bunting。　And　as　they　watched　they　thought　at　first　that　the　boat　was　steering　oddly；　and　then　that　it　wasn't　steering　at　all；　and　when　it　drifted　to　the　shore　at　last　every　man　in　that　boat　was　dead；　and　Sir　Walter　Vane；　with　his　sword　drawn；　was　leaning　up　against　the　tree　trunk；　as　stiff　as　the　tree。〃

〃Now　this　is　rather　curious；〃　remarked　Paynter　thoughtfully。　〃I　told　you　I　collected　legends；　and　I　fancy　I　can　tell　you　the　beginning　of　the　story　of　which　that　is　the　end；　though　it　comes　hundreds　of　miles　across　the　sea。〃

He　tapped　meditatively　on　the　table　with　his　thin；　taper　fingers；　like　a　man　trying　to　recall　a　tune。　　He　had；　indeed；　made　a　hobby　of　such　fables；　and　he　was　not　without　vanity　about　his　artistic　touch　in　telling　them。

〃Oh；　do　tell　us　your　part　of　it？〃　cried　Barbara　Vane；　whose　air　of　sunny　sleepiness　seemed　in　some　vague　degree　to　have　fallen　from　her。

The　American　bowed　across　the　table　with　a　serious　politeness；　and　then　began　playing　idly　with　a　quaint　ring　on　his　long　finger　as　he　talked。

〃If　you　go　down　to　the　Barbary　Coast；　where　the　last　wedge　of　the　forest　narrows　down　between　the　desert　and　the　great　tideless　sea；　you　will　find　the　natives　still　telling　a　strange　story　about　a　saint　of　the　Dark　Ages。　　There；　on　the　twilight　border　of　the　Dark　Continent；　you　feel　the　Dark　Ages。　　I　have　only　visited　the　place　once；　though　it　lies；　so　to　speak；　opposite　to　the　Italian　city　where　I　lived　for　years；　and　yet　you　would　hardly　believe　how　the　topsy…turvydom　and　transmigration　of　this　myth　somehow　seemed　less　mad　than　they　really　are；　with　the　wood　loud　with　lions　at　night　and　that　dark　red　solitude　beyond。　　They　say　that　the　hermit　St。　Securis；　living　there　among　trees；　grew　to　love　them　like　companions；　since；　though　great　giants　with　many　arms　like　Briareus；　they　were　the　mildest　and　most　blameless　of　the　creatures；　they　did　not　de　vour　like　the　lions；　but　rather　opened　their　arms　to　all　the　little　birds。　　And　he　prayed　that　they　might　be　loosened　from　time　to　time　to　walk　like　other　things。　And　the　trees　were　moved　upon　the　prayers　of　Securis；　as　they　were　at　the　songs　of　Orpheus。　　The　men　of　the　desert　were　stricken　from　afar　with　fear；　seeing　the　saint　walking　with　a　walking　grove；　like　a　schoolmaster　with　his　boys。　For　the　trees　were　thus　freed　under　strict　conditions　of　discipline。　They　were　to　return　at　the　sound　of　the　hermit's　bell；　and；　above　all；　to　copy　the　wild　beasts　in　walking　only　to　destroy　and　devour　nothing。　Well；　it　is　said　that　one　of　the　trees　heard　a　voice　that　was　not　the　saint's；　that　in　the　warm　green　twilight　of　one　summer　evening　it　became　conscious　of　some　thing　sitting　and　speaking　in　its　branches　in　the　guise　of　a　great　bird；　and　it　was　that　which　once　spoke　from　a　tree　in　the　guise　of　a　great　serpent。　As　the　voice　grew　louder　among　its　murmuring　leaves　the　tree　was　torn　with　a　great　desire　to　stretch　out　and　snatch　at　the　birds　that　flew　harmlessly　about　their　nests；　and　pluck　them　to　pieces。　　Finally；　the　tempter　filled　the　tree…top　with　his　own　birds　of　pride；　the　starry　pageant　of　the　peacocks。　And　the　spirit　of　the　brute　overcame　the　spirit　of　the　tree；　and　it　rent　and　consumed　the　blue…green　birds　till　not　a　plume　was　left；　and　returned　to　the　quiet　tribe　of　trees。　　But　they　say　that　when　spring　came　all　the　other　trees　put　forth　leaves；　but　this　put　forth　feathers　of　a　strange　hue　and　pattern。　And　by　that　monstrous　assimilation　the　saint　knew　of　the　sin；　and　he　rooted　that　one　tree　to　the　earth　with　a　judgment；　so　that　evil　should　fall　on　any　who　removed　it　again。　That；　Squire；　is　the　beginning　in　the　deserts　of　the　tale　that　ended　here；　almost　in　this　garden。〃

〃And　the　end　is　about　as　reliable　as　the　beginning；　I　should　say；〃　said　Vane。　　〃Yours　is　a　nice　plain　tale　for　a　small　tea…party；　a　quiet　little　bit　of　still…life；　that　is。〃

〃What　a　queer；　horrible　story；〃　exclaimed　Barbara。　　〃It　makes　one　feel　like　a　cannibal。〃

〃Ex　Africa；〃　said　the　lawyer；　smiling。　　〃it　comes　from　a　cannibal　country。　　I　think　it's　the　touch　of　the　tar…brush；　that　nightmare　feeling　that　you　don't　know　whether　the　hero　is　a　plant　or　a　man　or　a　devil。　　Don't　you　feel　it　sometimes　in　'Uncle　Remus'？〃

〃True；〃　said　Paynter。　　〃Perfectly　true。〃　　And　he　looked　at　the　lawyer　with　a　new　interest。　　The　lawyer；　who　had　been　introduced　as　Mr。　Ashe；　was　one　of　those　people　who　are　more　worth　looking　at　than　most　people　realize　when　they　look。　　If　Napoleon　had　been　red…haired；　and　had　bent　all　his　powers　with　a　curious　contentment　upon　the　petty　lawsuits　of　a　province；　he　might　have　looked　much　the　same；　the　head　with　the　red　hair　was　heavy　and　powerful；　the　figure　in　its　dark；　quiet　clothes　was　comparatively　insignifican