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第10章

dream days-第10章

小说: dream days 字数: 每页4000字

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never brooded; moped; nor ate his heart out over any

disappointment。  One wild outburstone dissolution of a minute

into his original elements of air and water; of tears and

outcryso much insulted nature claimed。  Then he would pull

himself together; iron out his countenance with a smile; and

adjust himself to the new condition of things。



If the gods are ever grateful to man for anything; it is when he

is so good as to display a short memory。  The Olympians were

never slow to recognize this quality of Harold's; in which;

indeed; their salvation lay; and on this occasion their gratitude

had taken the practical form of a fine fat orange; tough…

rinded as oranges of those days were wont to be。  This he had

eviscerated in the good old…fashioned manner; by biting out a

hole in the shoulder; inserting a lump of sugar therein; and then

working it cannily till the whole soul and body of the orange

passed glorified through the sugar into his being。  Thereupon;

filled full of orange…juice and iniquity; he conceived a deadly

snare。  Having deftly patted and squeezed the orange…skin till it

resumed its original shape; he filled it up with water; inserted

a fresh lump of sugar in the orifice; and; issuing forth; blandly

proffered it to me as I sat moodily in the doorway dreaming of

strange wild circuses under tropic skies。



Such a stale old dodge as this would hardly have taken me in at

ordinary moments。  But Harold had reckoned rightly upon the

disturbing effect of ill…humour; and had guessed; perhaps; that I

thirsted for comfort and consolation; and would not criticise

too closely the source from which they came。  Unthinkingly I

grasped the golden fraud; which collapsed at my touch; and

squirted its contents into my eyes and over my collar; till the

nethermost parts of me were damp with the water that had run down

my neck。  In an instant I had Harold down; and; with all the

energy of which I was capable; devoted myself to grinding his

head into the gravel; while he; realizing that the closure was

applied; and that the time for discussion or argument was past;

sternly concentrated his powers on kicking me in the stomach。



Some people can never allow events to work themselves out

quietly。  At this juncture one of Them swooped down on the scene;

pouring shrill; misplaced abuse on both of us: on me for ill…

treating my younger brother; whereas it was distinctly I who was

the injured and the deceived; on him for the high offence of

assault and battery on a clean collara collar which I had

myself deflowered and defaced; shortly before; in sheer desperate

ill…temper。  Disgusted and defiant we fled in different

directions; rejoining each other later in the kitchen…garden; and

as we strolled along together; our short feud forgotten; Harold

observed; gloomily:  〃I should like to be a cave…man; like Uncle

George was tellin' us about: with a flint hatchet and no clothes;

and live in a cave and not know anybody!〃



〃And if anyone came to see us we didn't like;〃 I joined in;

catching on to the points of the idea; 〃we'd hit him on the head

with the hatchet till he dropped down dead。〃



〃And then;〃 said Harold; warming up; 〃we'd drag him into the cave

and SKIN HIM!〃



For a space we gloated silently over the fair scene our

imaginations had conjured up。  It was BLOOD we felt the

need of just then。  We wanted no luxuries; nothing dear…bought

nor far…fetched。  Just plain blood; and nothing else; and plenty

of it。



Blood; however; was not to be had。  The time was out of joint;

and we had been born too late。  So we went off to the greenhouse;

crawled into the heating arrangement underneath; and played at

the dark and dirty and unrestricted life of cave…men till we were

heartily sick of it。  Then we emerged once more into historic

times; and went off to the road to look for something living and

sentient to throw stones at。



Nature; so often a cheerful ally; sometimes sulks and refuses to

play。  When in this mood she passes the word to her underlings;

and all the little people of fur and feather take the hint and

slip home quietly by back streets。  In vain we scouted; lurked;

crept; and ambuscaded。  Everything that usually scurried; hopped;

or flutteredthe small society of the undergrowthseemed to

have engagements elsewhere。  The horrid thought that perhaps they

had all gone off to the circus occurred to us simultaneously; and

we humped ourselves up on the fence and felt bad。  Even the sound

of approaching wheels failed to stir any interest in us。  When

you are bent on throwing stones at something; humanity seems

obtrusive and better away。  Then suddenly we both jumped off the

fence together; our faces clearing。  For our educated ear had

told us that the approaching rattle could only proceed from a

dog…cart; and we felt sure it must be the funny man。



We called him the funny man because he was sad and serious; and

said little; but gazed right into our souls; and made us tell him

just what was on our minds at the time; and then came out with

some magnificently luminous suggestion that cleared every

cloud away。  What was more he would then go off with us at once

and play the thing right out to its finish; earnestly and

devotedly; putting all other things aside。  So we called him the

funny man; meaning only that he was different from those others

who thought it incumbent on them to play the painful mummer。  The

ideal as opposed to the real man was what we meant; only we were

not acquainted with the phrase。  Those others; with their

laboured jests and clumsy contortions; doubtless flattered

themselves that THEY were funny men; we; who had to sit

through and applaud the painful performance; knew better。



He pulled up to a walk as soon as he caught sight of us; and the

dog…cart crawled slowly along till it stopped just opposite。 

Then he leant his chin on his hand and regarded us long and

soulfully; yet said he never a word; while we jigged up and

down in the dust; grinning bashfully but with expectation。  For

you never knew exactly what this man might say or do。



〃You look bored;〃 he remarked presently; 〃thoroughly bored。  Or

elselet me see; you're not married; are you?〃



He asked this in such sad earnestness that we hastened to assure

him we were not married; though we felt he ought to have known

that much; we had been intimate for some time。



〃Then it's only boredom;〃 he said。  〃Just satiety and world…

weariness。  Well; if you assure me you aren't married you can

climb into this cart and I'll take you for a drive。  I'm bored;

too。  I want to do something dark and dreadful and exciting。〃



We clambered in; of course; yapping with delight and treading all

over his toes; and as we set off; Harold demanded of him

imperiously whither he was going。



〃My wife;〃 he replied; 〃has ordered me to go and look up the

curate and bring him home to tea。  Does that sound sufficiently

exciting for you?〃



Our faces fell。  The curate of the hour was not a success; from

our point of view。  He was not a funny man; in any sense of the

word。



〃but I'm not going to;〃 he added; cheerfully。  〃Then I was to

stop at some cottage and askwhat was it?  There was NETTLE…

RASH mixed up in it; I'm sure。  But never mind; I've forgotten;

and it doesn't matter。  Look here; we're three desperate young

fellows who stick at nothing。  Suppose we go off to the circus?〃



Of certain supreme moments it is not easy to write。  The varying

shades and currents of emotion may indeed be put into words by

those specially skilled that way; they often are; at considerable

length。  But the sheer; crude article itselfthe strong;

live thing that leaps up inside you and swells and strangles you;

the dizziness of revulsion that takes the breath like cold

waterwho shall depict this and live?  All I knew was that I

would have died then and there; cheerfully; for the funny man;

that I longed for r

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