villa rubein and other stories-第68章

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have　I　ever　had？〃



Hemmings　swayed；　recovered；　and　with　a　forced　smile　replied　that；　if

this　were　true；　he　had　been　standing　on　his　head　for　years；　he　did

not　believe　the　attitude　possible　for　such　a　length　of　time；

personally　he　would　have　thought　that　he　too　had　had　a　little

something　to　say　to　the　company's　position；　but　no　matter。。。！　　His

irony　was　crushing。。。。　　It　was　possible　that　Mr。　Pippin　hoped　to

reverse　the　existing　laws　of　the　universe　with　regard　to　limited

companies；　he　would　merely　say　that　he　must　not　begin　with　a　company

of　which　he　（Hemmings）　happened　to　be　secretary。　　Mr。　Scorrier　had

hinted　at　excuses；　for　his　part；　with　the　best　intentions　in　the

world；　he　had　great　difficulty　in　seeing　them。　　He　would　go　further

he　did　not　see　them！　　The　explosion。。。！　　Pippin　shrank　so　visibly

that　Hemmings　seemed　troubled　by　a　suspicion　that　he　had　gone　too

far。



〃We　know；〃　he　said；　〃that　it　was　trying　for　you。。。。〃



〃Trying！〃　〃burst　out　Pippin。



〃No　one　can　say；〃　Hemmings　resumed　soothingly；　〃that　we　have　not

dealt　liberally。〃　　Pippin　made　a　motion　of　the　head。　　〃We　think　we

have　a　good　superintendent；　I　go　further；　an　excellent

superintendent。　　What　I　say　is：　Let's　be　pleasant！　　I　am　not　making

an　unreasonable　request！〃　　He　ended　on　a　fitting　note　of　jocularity；

and；　as　if　by　consent；　all　three　withdrew；　each　to　his　own　room；

without　another　word。



In　the　course　of　the　next　day　Pippin　said　to　Scorrier：　〃It　seems　I

have　been　very　wicked。　　I　must　try　to　do　better〃；　and　with　a　touch　of

bitter　humour；　〃They　are　kind　enough　to　think　me　a　good

superintendent；　you　see！　　After　that　I　must　try　hard。〃



Scorrier　broke　in：　〃No　man　could　have　done　so　much　for　them；〃　and；

carried　away　by　an　impulse　to　put　things　absolutely　straight；　went　on

〃But；　after　all；　a　letter　now　and　thenwhat　does　it　amount　to？〃



Pippin　besieged　him　with　a　subtle　glance。　　〃You　too？〃　he　said

〃I　must　indeed　have　been　a　wicked　man！〃　and　turned　away。



Scorrier　felt　as　if　he　had　been　guilty　of　brutality；　sorry　for

Pippin；　angry　with　himself；　angry　with　Pippin；　sorry　for　himself。　　He

earnestly　desired　to　see　the　back　of　Hemmings。　　The　secretary

gratified　the　wish　a　few　days　later；　departing　by　steamer　with

ponderous　expressions　of　regard　and　the　assurance　of　his　goodwill。



Pippin　gave　vent　to　no　outburst　of　relief；　maintaining　a　courteous

silence；　making　only　one　allusion　to　his　late　guest；　in　answer　to　a

remark　of　Scorrier：



〃Ah！　don't　tempt　me！　mustn't　speak　behind　his　back。〃



A　month　passed；　and　Scorrier　stillremained　Pippin's　guest。　　As　each

mail…day　approached　he　experienced　a　queer　suppressed　excitement。　　On

one　of　these　occasions　Pippin　had　withdrawn　to　his　room；　and　when

Scorrier　went　to　fetch　him　to　dinner　he　found　him　with　his　head

leaning　on　his　hands；　amid　a　perfect　fitter　of　torn　paper。　　He　looked

up　at　Scorrier。



〃I　can't　do　it；〃　he　said；　〃I　feel　such　a　hypocrite；　I　can't　put

myself　into　leading…strings　again。　　Why　should　I　ask　these　people；

when　I've　settled　everything　already？　　If　it　were　a　vital　matter　they

wouldn't　want　to　hearthey'd　simply　wire；　'Manage　this　somehow！'〃



Scorrier　said　nothing；　but　thought　privately　'This　is　a　mad

business！'　　What　was　a　letter？　　Why　make　a　fuss　about　a　letter？　　The

approach　of　mail…day　seemed　like　a　nightmare　to　the　superintendent；

he　became　feverishly　nervous　like　a　man　under　a　spell；　and；　when　the

mail　had　gone；　behaved　like　a　respited　criminal。　　And　this　had　been

going　on　two　years！　　Ever　since　that　explosion。　　Why；　it　was

monomania！



One　day；　a　month　after　Hemmings'　departure；　Pippin　rose　early　from

dinner；　his　face　was　flushed；　he　had　been　drinking　wine。　　〃I　won't　be

beaten　this　time；〃　he　said；　as　he　passed　Scorrier。　　The　latter　could

hear　him　writing　in　the　next　room；　and　looked　in　presently　to　say

that　he　was　going　for　a　walk。　　Pippin　gave　him　a　kindly　nod。



It　was　a　cool；　still　evening：　innumerable　stars　swarmed　in　clusters

over　the　forests；　forming　bright　hieroglyphics　in　the　middle　heavens；

showering　over　the　dark　harbour　into　the　sea。　　Scorrier　walked

slowly。　　A　weight　seemed　lifted　from　his　mind；　so　entangled　had　he

become　in　that　uncanny　silence。　　At　last　Pippin　had　broken　through

the　spell。　　To　get　that；　letter　sent　would　be　the　laying　of　a

phantom；　the　rehabilitation　of　commonsense。　　Now　that　this　silence

was　in　the　throes　of　being　broken；　he　felt　curiously　tender　towards

Pippin；　without　the　hero…worship　of　old　days；　but　with　a　queer

protective　feeling。　　After　all；　he　was　different　from　other　men。　　In

spite　of　his　feverish；　tenacious　energy；　in　spite　of　his　ironic

humour；　there　was　something　of　the　woman　in　him！　　And　as　for　this

silence；　this　horror　of　controlall　geniuses　had　〃bees　in　their

bonnets；〃　and　Pippin　was　a　genius　in　his　way！



He　looked　back　at　the　town。　　Brilliantly　lighted　it　had　a　thriving

air…difficult　to　believe　of　the　place　he　remembered　ten　years　back；

the　sounds　of　drinking；　gambling；　laughter；　and　dancing　floated　to

his　ears。　　'Quite　a　city！'　he　thought。



With　this　queer　elation　on　him　he　walked　slowly　back　along　the

street；　forgetting　that　he　was　simply　an　oldish　mining　expert；　with　a

look　of　shabbiness；　such　as　clings　to　men　who　are　always　travelling；

as　if　their　〃nap〃　were　for　ever　being　rubbed　off。　　And　he　thought　of

Pippin；　creator　of　this　glory。



He　had　passed　the　boundaries　of　the　town；　and　had　entered　the　forest。

A　feeling　of　discouragement　instantly　beset　him。　　The　scents　and

silence；　after　the　festive　cries　and　odours　of　the　town；　were

undefinably　oppressive。　　Notwithstanding；　he　walked　a　long　time；

saying　to　himself　that　he　would　give　the　letter　every　chance。　　At

last；　when　he　thought　that　Pippin　must　have　finished；　he　went　back　to

the　house。



Pippin　had　finished。　　His　forehead　rested　on　the　table；　his　arms　hung

at　his　sides；　he　was　stone…dead！　　His　face　wore　a　smile；　and　by　his

side　lay　an　empty　laudanum　bottle。



The　letter；　closely；　beautifully　written；　lay　before　him。　　It　was　a

fine　document；　clear；　masterly；　detailed；　nothing　slurred；　nothing

concealed；　nothing　omitted；　a　complete　review　of　the　company's

position；　it　ended　with　the　words：　〃Your　humble　servant；　RICHARD

PIPPIN。〃



Scorrier　took　possession　of　it。　　He　dimly　understood　that　with　those

last　words　a　wire　had　snapped。　　The　border…line　had　been　overpassed；

the　point　reached　where　that　sense　of　proportion；　which　alone　makes

life　possible；　is　lost。　　He　was　certain　that　at　the　moment　of　his

death　Pippin　could　have　discussed　bimetallism；　or　any　intellectual

problem；　except　the　one　problem　of　his　own　heart；　that；　for　some

mysterious　reason；　had　been　too　much　for　him。　　His　death　had　been　the

work　of　a　moment　of　supreme　revolta　single　instant　of　madness　on　a

single　subject！　　He　found　on　the　blotting…paper；　scrawled　across　the

impress　of　the　signature；　〃Can't　stand　it！〃　　The　completion　of　that

letter　had　been　to　him　a　struggle　ungraspable　by　Scorrier。　　Slavery？

Defeat？　　A　violation　of　Nature？　　The　death　of　justice？　　It　were

better　not　to　think　of　it！　　Pippin　could　have　toldbut　he　would

never　speak　again。　　Nature；　at　whom；　unaided；　he　had　dealt　so　many

blows；　had　taken　her　revenge。。。！



In　the　night　Scorrier　stole　down；　and；　with　an　ashamed　face；　cut　off

a　lock　of　the　fine　grey　hair。　　'His　daughter　might　like　it！'　he

thought。。。。



He　waited　till　Pippin　was　buried；　then；　with　the　letter　in　his

pocket；　started　for　England。



He　arrived　at　Liverpool　on　a　Thursday　morning；　and　travelling　to

town；　drove　straight　to　the　office　of　the　company。　　The　Board　were

sitting。　　Pippin's　successor　was　already　being　interviewed。　　He

passed　out　as　Scorrier　came　in；　a　middle…aged　man　with　a　large；　red

beard；　and　a　foxy；　compromising　face。　　He　also　was　a　Cornishman。

Scorrier　wished　him　luck　with　a　very　heavy　heart。



As　an　unsentimental　man；　who　had　a　proper　horror　of　emotion；　whose

living　depende