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第7章

death of the lion-第7章

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understand you。  I'm not sure;〃 I added; 〃that I do myself; and I 
dare say that you by no means make me out。〃

She had got up to go; and though I wanted her to succeed in not 
seeing Neil Paraday I wanted her also; inconsequently; to remain in 
the house。  I was at any rate far from desiring to hustle her off。  
As Mrs。 Weeks Wimbush; upstairs; was still saving our friend in her 
own way; I asked my young lady to let me briefly relate; in 
illustration of my point; the little incident of my having gone 
down into the country for a profane purpose and been converted on 
the spot to holiness。  Sinking again into her chair to listen she 
showed a deep interest in the anecdote。  Then thinking it over 
gravely she returned with her odd intonation:  〃Yes; but you do see 
him!〃 I had to admit that this was the case; and I wasn't so 
prepared with an effective attenuation as I could have wished。  She 
eased the situation off; however; by the charming quaintness with 
which she finally said:  〃Well; I wouldn't want him to be lonely!〃  
This time she rose in earnest; but I persuaded her to let me keep 
the album to show Mr。 Paraday。  I assured her I'd bring it back to 
her myself。  〃Well; you'll find my address somewhere in it on a 
paper!〃 she sighed all resignedly at the door。



CHAPTER VIII。



I BLUSH to confess it; but I invited Mr。 Paraday that very day to 
transcribe into the album one of his most characteristic passages。  
I told him how I had got rid of the strange girl who had brought it 
… her ominous name was Miss Hurter and she lived at an hotel; quite 
agreeing with him moreover as to the wisdom of getting rid with 
equal promptitude of the book itself。  This was why I carried it to 
Albemarle Street no later than on the morrow。  I failed to find her 
at home; but she wrote to me and I went again; she wanted so much 
to hear more about Neil Paraday。  I returned repeatedly; I may 
briefly declare; to supply her with this information。  She had been 
immensely taken; the more she thought of it; with that idea of mine 
about the act of homage:  it had ended by filling her with a 
generous rapture。  She positively desired to do something sublime 
for him; though indeed I could see that; as this particular flight 
was difficult; she appreciated the fact that my visits kept her up。  
I had it on my conscience to keep her up:  I neglected nothing that 
would contribute to it; and her conception of our cherished 
author's independence became at last as fine as his very own。  
〃Read him; read him … THAT will be an education in decency;〃 I 
constantly repeated; while; seeking him in his works even as God in 
nature; she represented herself as convinced that; according to my 
assurance; this was the system that had; as she expressed it; 
weaned her。  We read him together when I could find time; and the 
generous creature's sacrifice was fed by our communion。  There were 
twenty selfish women about whom I told her and who stirred her to a 
beautiful rage。  Immediately after my first visit her sister; Mrs。 
Milsom; came over from Paris; and the two ladies began to present; 
as they called it; their letters。  I thanked our stars that none 
had been presented to Mr。 Paraday。  They received invitations and 
dined out; and some of these occasions enabled Fanny Hurter to 
perform; for consistency's sake; touching feats of submission。  
Nothing indeed would now have induced her even to look at the 
object of her admiration。  Once; hearing his name announced at a 
party; she instantly left the room by another door and then 
straightway quitted the house。  At another time when I was at the 
opera with them … Mrs。 Milsom had invited me to their box … I 
attempted to point Mr。 Paraday out to her in the stalls。  On this 
she asked her sister to change places with her and; while that lady 
devoured the great man through a powerful glass; presented; all the 
rest of the evening; her inspired back to the house。  To torment 
her tenderly I pressed the glass upon her; telling her how 
wonderfully near it brought our friend's handsome head。  By way of 
answer she simply looked at me in charged silence; letting me see 
that tears had gathered in her eyes。  These tears; I may remark; 
produced an effect on me of which the end is not yet。  There was a 
moment when I felt it my duty to mention them to Neil Paraday; but 
I was deterred by the reflexion that there were questions more 
relevant to his happiness。

These question indeed; by the end of the season; were reduced to a 
single one … the question of reconstituting so far as might be 
possible the conditions under which he had produced his best work。  
Such conditions could never all come back; for there was a new one 
that took up too much place; but some perhaps were not beyond 
recall。  I wanted above all things to see him sit down to the 
subject he had; on my making his acquaintance; read me that 
admirable sketch of。  Something told me there was no security but 
in his doing so before the new factor; as we used to say at Mr。 
Pinhorn's; should render the problem incalculable。  It only half…
reassured me that the sketch itself was so copious and so eloquent 
that even at the worst there would be the making of a small but 
complete book; a tiny volume which; for the faithful; might well 
become an object of adoration。  There would even not be wanting 
critics to declare; I foresaw; that the plan was a thing to be more 
thankful for than the structure to have been reared on it。  My 
impatience for the structure; none the less; grew and grew with the 
interruptions。  He had on coming up to town begun to sit for his 
portrait to a young painter; Mr。 Rumble; whose little game; as we 
also used to say at Mr。 Pinhorn's; was to be the first to perch on 
the shoulders of renown。  Mr。 Rumble's studio was a circus in which 
the man of the hour; and still more the woman; leaped through the 
hoops of his showy frames almost as electrically as they burst into 
telegrams and 〃specials。〃  He pranced into the exhibitions on their 
back; he was the reporter on canvas; the Vandyke up to date; and 
there was one roaring year in which Mrs。 Bounder and Miss Braby; 
Guy Walsingham and Dora Forbes proclaimed in chorus from the same 
pictured walls that no one had yet got ahead of him。

Paraday had been promptly caught and saddled; accepting with 
characteristic good…humour his confidential hint that to figure in 
his show was not so much a consequence as a cause of immortality。  
From Mrs。 Wimbush to the last 〃representative〃 who called to 
ascertain his twelve favourite dishes; it was the same ingenuous 
assumption that he would rejoice in the repercussion。  There were 
moments when I fancied I might have had more patience with them if 
they hadn't been so fatally benevolent。  I hated at all events Mr。 
Rumble's picture; and had my bottled resentment ready when; later 
on; I found my distracted friend had been stuffed by Mrs。 Wimbush 
into the mouth of another cannon。  A young artist in whom she was 
intensely interested; and who had no connexion with Mr。 Rumble; was 
to show how far he could make him go。  Poor Paraday; in return; was 
naturally to write something somewhere about the young artist。  She 
played her victims against each other with admirable ingenuity; and 
her establishment was a huge machine in which the tiniest and the 
biggest wheels went round to the same treadle。  I had a scene with 
her in which I tried to express that the function of such a man was 
to exercise his genius … not to serve as a hoarding for pictorial 
posters。  The people I was perhaps angriest with were the editors 
of magazines who had introduced what they called new features; so 
aware were they that the newest feature of all would be to make him 
grind their axes by contributing his views on vital topics and 
taking part in the periodical prattle about the future of fiction。  
I made sure that before I should have done with him there would 
scarcely be a current form of words left me to be sick of; but 
meanwhile I could make surer still of my animosity to bustling 
ladies for whom he drew the water that i

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