the golden age(金色时代)-第5章
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across me； and； turning on Charlotte； I sternly ordered her back。
The small maiden； docile but exceedingly dolorous； dragged reluctant
feet homewards； heavy at heart that she was to behold no stout fellows
slain that day； but Harold and I held steadily on； expecting every instant to
see the environing hedges crackle and spit forth the leaden death。
〃Will they be Indians？〃 inquired my brother （meaning the enemy）； 〃or
Roundheads； or what？〃
I reflected。 Harold always required direct； straightforward answers
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not faltering suppositions。
〃They won't be Indians；〃 I replied at last； 〃nor yet Roundheads。
There haven't been any Roundheads seen about here for a long time。
They'll be Frenchmen。〃
Harold's face fell。 〃All right；〃 he said； 〃Frenchmen'll do； but I did
hope they'd be Indians。〃
〃If they were going to be Indians；〃 I explained； 〃II don't think I'd go
on。 Because when Indians take you prisoner they scalp you first； and
then burn you at a stake。 But Frenchmen don't do that sort of thing。〃
〃Are you quite sure？〃 asked Harold doubtfully。
〃Quite；〃 I replied。 〃Frenchmen only shut you up in a thing called the
Bastille； and then you get a file sent in to you in a loaf of bread； and saw
the bars through； and slide down a rope； and they all fire at youbut they
don't hit youand you run down to the seashore as hard as you can； and
swim off to a British frigate； and there you are！〃
Harold brightened up again。 The programme was rather attractive。
〃If they try to take us prisoner；〃 he said； 〃wewe won't run； will we？〃
Meanwhile； the craven foe was a long time showing himself； and we
were reaching strange outland country； uncivilised； wherein lions might be
expected to prowl at nightfall。 I had a stitch in my side； and both
Harold's stockings had come down。 Just as I was beginning to have
gloomy doubts of the proverbial courage of Frenchmen； the officer called
out something； the men closed up； and； breaking into a trot； the troops
already far ahead vanished out of our sight。 With a sinking at the heart；
I began to suspect we had been fooled。
〃Are they charging？〃 cried Harold； weary； but rallying gamely。
〃I think not；〃 I replied doubtfully。 〃When there's going to be a charge；
the officer always makes a speech； and then they draw their swords and
the trumpets blow； andbut let's try a short cut。 We may catch them up
yet。〃
So we struck across the fields and into another road； and pounded
down that； and then over more fields； panting； down…hearted； yet hoping
for the best。 The sun went in； and a thin drizzle began to fall； we were
muddy； breathless； almost dead beat； but we blundered on； till at last we
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struck a road more brutally； more callously unfamiliar than any road I ever
looked upon。 Not a hint nor a sign of friendly direction or assistance on
the dogged white face of it。 There was no longer any disguising it we
were hopelessly lost。 The small rain continued steadily； the evening
began to come on。 Really there are moments when a fellow is justified in
crying； and I would have cried too； if Harold had not been there。 That
right…minded child regarded an elder brother as a veritable god； and I
could see that he felt himself as secure as if a whole Brigade of Guards
hedged him round with protecting bayonets。 But I dreaded sore lest he
should begin again with his questions。 As I gazed in dumb appeal on the
face of unresponsive nature； the sound of nearing wheels sent a pulse of
hope through my being； increasing to rapture as I recognised in the
approaching vehicle the familiar carriage of the old doctor。 If ever a god
emerged from a machine； it was when this heaven…sent friend； recognising
us； stopped and jumped out with a cheery hail。 Harold rushed up to him
at once。 〃Have you been there？〃 he cried。 〃Was it a jolly fight？ who
beat？ were there many people killed？〃
The doctor appeared puzzled。 I briefly explained the situation。
〃I see；〃 said the doctor； looking grave and twisting his face this way
and that。 〃Well； the fact is； there isn't going to be any battle to…day。 It's
been put off； on account of the change in the weather。 You will have due
notice of the renewal of hostilities。 And now you'd better jump in and I'll
drive you home。 You've been running a fine rig！ Why； you might have
both been taken and shot as spies！〃
This special danger had never even occurred to us。 The thrill of it
accentuated the cosey homelike feeling of the cushions we nestled into as
we rolled homewards。 The doctor beguiled the journey with blood…
curdling narratives of personal adventure in the tented field； he having
followed the profession of arms （so it seemed） in every quarter of the
globe。 Time； the destroyer of all things beautiful； subsequently revealed
the baselessness of these legends； but what of that？ There are higher
things than truth； and we were almost reconciled； by the time we were
dropped at our gate； to the fact that the battle had been postponed。
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THE FINDING OF THE
PRINCESS。
It was the day I was promoted to a tooth…brush。 The girls；
irrespective of age； had been thus distinguished some time before； why；
we boys could never rightly understand； except that it was part and parcel
of a system of studied favouritism on behalf of creatures both physically
inferior and （as was shown by a fondness for tale…bearing） of weaker
mental fibre。 It was not that we yearned after these strange instruments
in themselves； Edward； indeed； applied his to the scrubbing…out of his
squirrel's cage； and for personal use； when a superior eye was grim on him；
borrowed Harold's or mine； indifferently； but the nimbus of distinction
that clung to themthat we coveted exceedingly。 What more； indeed；
was there to ascend to； before the remote； but still possible； razor and
strop？
Perhaps the exaltation had mounted to my head； or nature and the
perfect morning joined to him at disaffection； anyhow； having breakfasted；
and triumphantly repeated the collect I had broken down in the last
Sunday'twas one without rhythm or alliteration： a most objectionable
collecthaving achieved thus much； the small natural man in me rebelled；
and I vowed； as I straddled and spat about the stable…yard in feeble
imitation of the coachman； that lessons might go to the Inventor of them。
It was only geography that morning； any way： and the practical thing was
worth any quantity of bookish theoretic； as for me； I was going on my
travels； and imports and exports； populations and capitals； might very well
wait while I explored the breathing； coloured world outside。
True； a fellow…rebel was wanted； and Harold might； as a rule； have
been counted on with certainty。 But just then Harold was very proud。
The week before he had 〃gone into tables；〃 and had been endowed with a
new slate； having a miniature sponge attached； wherewith we washed the
faces of Charlotte's dolls； thereby producing an unhealthy pallor which
struck terror into the child's heart； always timorous regarding epidemic
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visitations。 As to 〃tables；〃 nobody knew exactly what they were； least of
all Harold； but it was a step over the heads of the rest； and therefore a
subject for self…adulation and generally speakingairs； so that Harold；
hugging his slate and his chains； was out of the question now。 In such a
matter； girls were worse than useless； as wanting the necessary tenacity of
will and contempt for self…constituted authority。 So eventually I slipped
through the hedge a solitary protestant； and issued forth on the lane what
time the rest of the civilised world was sitting down to lessons。
The scene was familiar enough； and yet； this morning； how different it
all seemed！ The act； with its daring； tinted everything with new； strange
hues； affecting the individual with a sort of bruised feeling just below the
pit of the stomach； that was intensified whenever his thoughts flew back to
the ink… stained； smelly schoolroom。 And could this be really me？ or was
I only contemplating； from the schoolroom aforesaid； some other jolly
young mutineer； faring forth under the genial sun？ Anyhow； here was the
friendly well； in its old place； half way up the lane。 Hither the yoke…
shouldering village…folk were wont to come to fill their clinking buckets；
when the drippings made worms of wet in the thick dust of the road。
They had flat wooden crosses inside each pail； which floated on the top
and （we were instructed） served to prevent the water from slopping over。
We used to wonder by what magic this strange principle worked； and who
first invented the crosses； and whether he got a peerage for it。 But indeed
the well was a centre of mystery； for a hornet's nest was somewhere hard
by； and the very thought was fearsome。 Wasps we knew well and
disdained； storming them in their fastnesses。 But these great Beasts；
vestured in angry orange； three stings from whichso 't was averred
would k
