villa rubein and other stories-第5章

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appear　at　Botzen；　driving　his　own　horses　by　easy　stages　from　the

Italian　Riviera；　where　he　spent　the　coldest　months。　　He　always　stayed

till　June　before　going　back　to　his　London　Club；　and　during　all　that

time　he　let　no　day　pass　without　growling　at　foreigners；　their　habits；

food；　drink；　and　raiment；　with　a　kind　of　big　dog's　growling　that　did

nobody　any　harm。　　The　illness　had　broken　him　very　much；　he　was

seventy；　but　looked　more。　　He　had　a　servant；　a　Luganese；　named

Dominique；　devoted　to　him。　　Nicholas　Treffry　had　found　him　overworked

in　an　hotel；　and　had　engaged　him　with　the　caution：　〃Lookhere；

Dominique！　I　swear！〃　　To　which　Dominique；　dark　of　feature；　saturnine

and　ironical；　had　only　replied：　〃Tres　biens；　M'sieur！〃









III



Harz　and　his　host　sat　in　leather　chairs；　Herr　Paul's　square　back　was

wedged　into　a　cushion；　his　round　legs　crossed。　　Both　were　smoking；

and　they　eyed　each　other　furtively；　as　men　of　different　stamp　do　when

first　thrown　together。　　The　young　artist　found　his　host　extremely　new

and　disconcerting；　in　his　presence　he　felt　both　shy　and　awkward。

Herr　Paul；　on　the　other　hand；　very　much　at　ease；　was　thinking

indolently：



'Good…looking　young　fellowcomes　of　the　people；　I　expect；　not　at　all

the　manner　of　the　world；　wonder　what　he　talks　about。'



Presently　noticing　that　Harz　was　looking　at　a　photograph；　he　said：

〃Ah！　yes！　that　was　a　woman！　　They　are　not　to　be　found　in　these　days。

She　could　dance；　the　little　Coralie！　　Did　you　ever　see　such　arms？

Confess　that　she　is　beautiful；　hein？〃



〃She　has　individuality；〃　said　Harz。　　〃A　fine　type！〃



Herr　Paul　blew　out　a　cloud　of　smoke。



〃Yes；〃　he　murmured；　〃she　was　fine　all　over！〃　　He　had　dropped　his

eyeglasses；　and　his　full　brown　eyes；　with　little　crow's…feet　at　the

corners；　wandered　from　his　visitor　to　his　cigar。



'He'd　be　like　a　Satyr　if　he　wasn't　too　clean；'　thought　Harz。　　'Put

vine　leaves　in　his　hair；　paint　him　asleep；　with　his　hands　crossed；

so！'



〃When　I　am　told　a　person　has　individuality；〃　Herr　Paul　was　saying　in

a　rich　and　husky　voice；　〃I　generally　expect　boots　that　bulge；　an

umbrella　of　improper　colour；　I　expect　a　creature　of　'bad　form'　as

they　say　in　England；　who　will　shave　some　days　and　some　days　will　not

shave；　who　sometimes　smells　of　India…rubber；　and　sometimes　does　not

smell；　which　is　discouraging！〃



〃You　do　not　approve　of　individuality？〃　said　Harz　shortly。



〃Not　if　it　means　doing；　and　thinking；　as　those　who　know　better　do　not

do；　or　think。〃



〃And　who　are　those　who　know　better？〃



〃Ah！　my　dear；　you　are　asking　me　a　riddle？　　Well；　thenSociety；　men

of　birth；　men　of　recognised　position；　men　above　eccentricity；　in　a

word；　of　reputation。〃



Harz　looked　at　him　fixedly。　　〃Men　who　haven't　the　courage　of　their

own　ideas；　not　even　the　courage　to　smell　of　India…rubber；　men　who

have　no　desires；　and　so　can　spend　all　their　time　making　themselves

flat！〃



Herr　Paul　drew　out　a　red　silk　handkerchief　and　wiped　his　beard。　　〃I

assure　you；　my　dear；〃　he　said；　〃it　is　easier　to　be　flat；　it　is　more

respectable　to　be　flat。　　Himmel！　why　not；　then；　be　flat？〃



〃Like　any　common　fellow？〃



〃Certes；　like　any　common　fellowlike　me；　par　exemple！〃　　Herr　Paul

waved　his　hand。　　When　he　exercised　unusual　tact；　he　always　made　use

of　a　French　expression。



Harz　flushed。　　Herr　Paul　followed　up　his　victory。　　〃Come；　come！〃　he

said。　　〃Pass　me　my　men　of　repute！　que　diable！　we　are　not　anarchists。〃



〃Are　you　sure？〃　said　Harz。



Herr　Paul　twisted　his　moustache。　　〃I　beg　your　pardon；〃　he　said

slowly。　　But　at　this　moment　the　door　was　opened；　a　rumbling　voice

remarked：　〃Morning；　Paul。　　Who's　your　visitor？〃　　Harz　saw　a　tall；

bulky　figure　in　the　doorway。



〃Come　in；〃'　called　out　Herr　Paul。　　〃Let　me　present　to　you　a　new

acquaintance；　an　artist：　Herr　HarzMr。　Nicholas　Treffry。　　Psumm

bumm！　All　this　introducing　is　dry　work。〃　　And　going　to　the　sideboard

he　poured　out　three　glasses　of　a　light；　foaming　beer。



Mr。　Treffry　waved　it　from　him：　〃Not　for　me；〃　he　said：　〃Wish　I　could！

They　won't　let　me　look　at　it。〃　　And　walking　over；　to　the　window　with

a　heavy　tread；　which　trembled　like　his　voice；　he　sat　down。　　There　was

something　in　his　gait　like　the　movements　of　an　elephant's　hind　legs。

He　was　very　tall　（it　was　said；　with　the　customary　exaggeration　of

family　tradition；　that　there　never　had　been　a　male　Treffry　under　six

feet　in　height）；　but　now　he　stooped；　and　had　grown　stout。　　There　was

something　at　once　vast　and　unobtrusive　about　his　personality。



He　wore　a　loose　brown　velvet　jacket；　and　waistcoat；　cut　to　show　a

soft　frilled　shirt　and　narrow　black　ribbon　tie；　a　thin　gold　chain　was

looped　round　his　neck　and　fastened　to　his　fob。　　His　heavy　cheeks　had

folds　in　them　like　those　in　a　bloodhound's　face。　　He　wore　big；

drooping；　yellow…grey　moustaches；　which　he　had　a　habit　of　sucking；

and　a　goatee　beard。　　He　had　long　loose　ears　that　might　almost　have

been　said　to　gap。　　On　his　head　there　was　a　soft　black　hat；　large　in

the　brim　and　low　in　the　crown。　　His　grey　eyes；　heavy…lidded；　twinkled

under　their　bushy　brows　with　a　queer；　kind　cynicism。　　As　a　young　man

he　had　sown　many　a　wild　oat；　but　he　had　also　worked　and　made　money　in

business；　he　had；　in　fact；　burned　the　candle　at　both　ends；　but　he　had

never　been　unready　to　do　his　fellows　a　good　turn。　　He　had　a　passion

for　driving；　and　his　reckless　method　of　pursuing　this　art　had　caused

him　to　be　nicknamed：　〃The　notorious　Treffry。〃



Once；　when　he　was　driving　tandem　down　a　hill　with　a　loose　rein；　the

friend　beside　him　had　said：　〃For　all　the　good　you're　doing　with　those

reins；　Treffry；　you　might　as　well　throw　them　on　the　horses'　necks。〃



〃Just　so；〃　Treffry　had　answered。　　At　the　bottom　of　the　hill　they　had

gone　over　a　wall　into　a　potato　patch。　　Treffry　had　broken　several

ribs；　his　friend　had　gone　unharmed。



He　was　a　great　sufferer　now；　but；　constitutionally　averse　to　being

pitied；　he　had　a　disconcerting　way　of　humming；　and　this；　together

with　the　shake　in　his　voice；　and　his　frequent　use　of　peculiar

phrases；　made　the　understanding　of　his　speech　depend　at　times　on

intuition　rather　than　intelligence。



The　clock　began　to　strike　eleven。　　Harz　muttered　an　excuse；　shook

hands　with　his　host；　and　bowing　to　his　new　acquaintance；　went　away。

He　caught　a　glimpse　of　Greta's　face　against　the　window；　and　waved　his

hand　to　her。　　In　the　road　he　came　on　Dawney；　who　was　turning　in

between　the　poplars；　with　thumbs　as　usual　hooked　in　the　armholes　of

his　waistcoat。



〃Hallo！〃　the　latter　said。



〃Doctor！〃　Harz　answered　slyly；　〃the　Fates　outwitted　me；　it　seems。〃



〃Serve　you　right；〃　said　Dawney；　〃for　your　confounded　egoism！　Wait

here　till　I　come　out；　I　shan't　be　many　minutes。〃



But　Harz　went　on　his　way。　　A　cart　drawn　by　cream…coloured　oxen　was

passing　slowly　towards　the　bridge。　　In　front　of　the　brushwood　piled

on　it　two　peasant　girls　were　sitting　with　their　feet　on　a　mat　of

grassthe　picture　of　contentment。



〃I'm　wasting　my　time！〃　he　thought。　　〃I've　done　next　to　nothing　in　two

months。　　Better　get　back　to　London！　　That　girl　will　never　make　a

painter！〃　　She　would　never　make　a　painter；　but　there　was　something　in

her　that　he　could　not　dismiss　so　rapidly。　　She　was　not　exactly

beautiful；　but　she　was　sympathetic。　　The　brow　was　pleasing；　with

dark…brown　hair　softly　turned　back；　and　eyes　so　straight　and　shining。

The　two　sisters　were　very　different！　　The　little　one　was　innocent；

yet　mysterious；　the　elder　seemed　as　clear　as　crystal！



He　had　entered　the　town；　where　the　arcaded　streets　exuded　their

peculiar　pungent　smell　of　cows　and　leather；　wood…smoke；　wine…casks；

and　drains。　　The　sound　of　rapid　wheels　over　the　stones　made　him　turn

his　head。　　A　carriage　drawn　by　red…roan　horses　was　passing　at　a　great

pace。　　People　stared　at　it；　standing　still；　and　looking　alarmed。　　It

swung　from　side　to　side　and　vanished　round　a　corner。　　Harz　saw　Mr。

Nicholas　Treffry　in　a　long；　whitish　dust…coat；