death of the lion-第2章
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mean to deny of course that I was aware it was much too good for
Mr。 Pinhorn； but I was equally conscious that Mr。 Pinhorn had the
supreme shrewdness of recognising from time to time the cases in
which an article was not too bad only because it was too good。
There was nothing he loved so much as to print on the right
occasion a thing he hated。 I had begun my visit to the great man
on a Monday； and on the Wednesday his book came out。 A copy of it
arrived by the first post； and he let me go out into the garden
with it immediately after breakfast； I read it from beginning to
end that day； and in the evening he asked me to remain with him the
rest of the week and over the Sunday。
That night my manuscript came back from Mr。 Pinhorn； accompanied
with a letter the gist of which was the desire to know what I meant
by trying to fob off on him such stuff。 That was the meaning of
the question； if not exactly its form； and it made my mistake
immense to me。 Such as this mistake was I could now only look it
in the face and accept it。 I knew where I had failed； but it was
exactly where I couldn't have succeeded。 I had been sent down to
be personal and then in point of fact hadn't been personal at all：
what I had dispatched to London was just a little finicking
feverish study of my author's talent。 Anything less relevant to
Mr。 Pinhorn's purpose couldn't well be imagined； and he was visibly
angry at my having （at his expense； with a second…class ticket）
approached the subject of our enterprise only to stand off so
helplessly。 For myself； I knew but too well what had happened； and
how a miracle … as pretty as some old miracle of legend … had been
wrought on the spot to save me。 There had been a big brush of
wings； the flash of an opaline robe； and then； with a great cool
stir of the air； the sense of an angel's having swooped down and
caught me to his bosom。 He held me only till the danger was over；
and it all took place in a minute。 With my manuscript back on my
hands I understood the phenomenon better； and the reflexions I made
on it are what I meant； at the beginning of this anecdote； by my
change of heart。 Mr。 Pinhorn's note was not only a rebuke
decidedly stern； but an invitation immediately to send him … it was
the case to say so … the genuine article； the revealing and
reverberating sketch to the promise of which； and of which alone； I
owed my squandered privilege。 A week or two later I recast my
peccant paper and； giving it a particular application to Mr。
Paraday's new book； obtained for it the hospitality of another
journal； where； I must admit； Mr。 Pinhorn was so far vindicated as
that it attracted not the least attention。
CHAPTER III。
I WAS frankly； at the end of three days； a very prejudiced critic；
so that one morning when； in the garden； my great man had offered
to read me something I quite held my breath as I listened。 It was
the written scheme of another book … something put aside long ago；
before his illness； but that he had lately taken out again to
reconsider。 He had been turning it round when I came down on him；
and it had grown magnificently under this second hand。 Loose
liberal confident； it might have passed for a great gossiping
eloquent letter … the overflow into talk of an artist's amorous
plan。 The theme I thought singularly rich； quite the strongest he
had yet treated； and this familiar statement of it； full too of
fine maturities； was really； in summarised splendour； a mine of
gold； a precious independent work。 I remember rather profanely
wondering whether the ultimate production could possibly keep at
the pitch。 His reading of the fond epistle； at any rate； made me
feel as if I were； for the advantage of posterity； in close
correspondence with him … were the distinguished person to whom it
had been affectionately addressed。 It was a high distinction
simply to be told such things。 The idea he now communicated had
all the freshness； the flushed fairness； of the conception
untouched and untried： it was Venus rising from the sea and before
the airs had blown upon her。 I had never been so throbbingly
present at such an unveiling。 But when he had tossed the last
bright word after the others； as I had seen cashiers in banks；
weighing mounds of coin； drop a final sovereign into the tray； I
knew a sudden prudent alarm。
〃My dear master； how； after all； are you going to do it？ It's
infinitely noble； but what time it will take； what patience and
independence； what assured； what perfect conditions！ Oh for a lone
isle in a tepid sea！〃
〃Isn't this practically a lone isle； and aren't you； as an
encircling medium； tepid enough？〃 he asked； alluding with a laugh
to the wonder of my young admiration and the narrow limits of his
little provincial home。 〃Time isn't what I've lacked hitherto：
the question hasn't been to find it； but to use it。 Of course my
illness made； while it lasted； a great hole … but I dare say there
would have been a hole at any rate。 The earth we tread has more
pockets than a billiard…table。 The great thing is now to keep on
my feet。〃
〃That's exactly what I mean。〃
Neil Paraday looked at me with eyes … such pleasant eyes as he had
… in which； as I now recall their expression； I seem to have seen a
dim imagination of his fate。 He was fifty years old； and his
illness had been cruel； his convalescence slow。 〃It isn't as if I
weren't all right。〃
〃Oh if you weren't all right I wouldn't look at you！〃 I tenderly
said。
We had both got up； quickened as by this clearer air； and he had
lighted a cigarette。 I had taken a fresh one； which with an
intenser smile； by way of answer to my exclamation； he applied to
the flame of his match。 〃If I weren't better I shouldn't have
thought of THAT！〃 He flourished his script in his hand。
〃I don't want to be discouraging； but that's not true；〃 I returned。
〃I'm sure that during the months you lay here in pain you had
visitations sublime。 You thought of a thousand things。 You think
of more and more all the while。 That's what makes you； if you'll
pardon my familiarity； so respectable。 At a time when so many
people are spent you come into your second wind。 But； thank God；
all the same； you're better！ Thank God； too； you're not； as you
were telling me yesterday； 'successful。' If YOU weren't a failure
what would be the use of trying？ That's my one reserve on the
subject of your recovery … that it makes you 'score；' as the
newspapers say。 It looks well in the newspapers； and almost
anything that does that's horrible。 'We are happy to announce that
Mr。 Paraday； the celebrated author； is again in the enjoyment of
excellent health。' Somehow I shouldn't like to see it。〃
〃You won't see it； I'm not in the least celebrated … my obscurity
protects me。 But couldn't you bear even to see I was dying or
dead？〃 my host enquired。
〃Dead … passe encore； there's nothing so safe。 One never knows
what a living artist may do … one has mourned so many。 However；
one must make the worst of it。 You must be as dead as you can。〃
〃Don't I meet that condition in having just published a book？〃
〃Adequately； let us hope； for the book's verily a masterpiece。〃
At this moment the parlour…maid appeared in the door that opened
from the garden： Paraday lived at no great cost； and the frisk of
petticoats； with a timorous 〃Sherry； sir？〃 was about his modest
mahogany。 He allowed half his income to his wife； from whom he had
succeeded in separating without redundancy of legend。 I had a
general faith in his having behaved well； and I had once； in
London； taken Mrs。 Paraday down to dinner。 He now turned to speak
to the maid； who offered him； on a tray； some card or note； while；
agitated； excited； I wandered to the end of the precinct。 The idea
of his security became supremely dear to me； and I asked myself if
I were the same young man who had come down a few days before to
scatter him to the four winds。 When I retraced my steps he had
gone into the house； and the woman … the second London post had
come in … h
