the professor at the breakfast table-第11章

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She　slides　from　her　seat；　and　falls　dying。　　〃Her　husband　and　her

father　cry　aloud。〃No；　not　Lucretia。



…Virginius；a　brown　old　soldier；　father　of　a　nice　girl。　　She　engaged

to　a　very　promising　young　man。　　Decemvir　Appius　takes　a　violent　fancy

to　her；must　have　her　at　any　rate。　　Hires　a　lawyer　to　present　the

arguments　in　favor　of　the　view　that　she　was　another　man's　daughter。

There　used　to　be　lawyers　in　Rome　that　would　do　such　things。　All

right。　　　There　are　two　sides　to　everything。　　Audi　alteram　partem。

The　legal　gentleman　has　no　opinion；he　only　states　the　evidence。

A　doubtful　case。　　Let　the　young　lady　be　under　the　protection　of　the

Honorable　Decemvir　until　it　can　be　looked　up　thoroughly。　Father

thinks　it　best；　on　the　whole；　to　give　in。　　Will　explain　the　matter；

if　the　young　lady　and　her　maid　will　step　this　way。　　That　is　the

explanation；a　stab　with　a　butcher's　knife；　snatched　from　a　stall；

meant　for　other　lambs　than　this　poor　bleeding　Virginia



The　old　man　thought　over　the　story。　　Then　he　must　have　one　look　at

the　original。　　So　he　took　down　the　first　volume　and　read　it　over。

When　he　came　to　that　part　where　it　tells　how　the　young　gentleman　she

was　engaged　to　and　a　friend　of　his　took　up　the　poor　girl's　bloodless

shape　and　carried　it　through　the　street；　and　how　all　the　women

followed；　wailing；　and　asking　if　that　was　what　their　daughters　were

coming　to；if　that　was　what　they　were　to　get　for　being　good　girls；

he　melted　down　into　his　accustomed　tears　of　pity　and　grief；　and；

through　them　all；　of　delight　at　the　charming　Latin　of　the　narrative。

But　it　was　impossible　to　call　his　child　Virginia。　　He　could　never

look　at　her　without　thinking　she　had　a　knife　sticking　in　her　bosom。



Dido　would　be　a　good　name；　and　a　fresh　one。　　She　was　a　queen；　and　the

founder　of　a　great　city。　　Her　story　had　been　immortalized　by　the

greatest　of　poets；for　the　old　Latin　tutor　clove　to　〃Virgilius

Maro；〃　as　he　called　him；　as　closely　as　ever　Dante　did　in　his

memorable　journey。　　So　he　took　down　his　Virgil；　it　was　the　smooth…

leafed；　open…lettered　quarto　of　Baskerville；and　began　reading　the

loves　and　mishaps　of　Dido。　　It　would　n't　do。　　A　lady　who　had　not

learned　discretion　by　experience；　and　came　to　an　evil　end。　　He　shook

his　head；　as　he　sadly　repeated；



　　　　〃…misera　ante　diem；　subitoque　accensa　furore；〃



but　when　he　came　to　the　lines；



　　　　〃Ergo　Iris　croceis　per　coelum　roscida　pennis

　　　　　Mille　trahens　varios　adverso　Sole　colores；〃



he　jumped　up　with　a　great　exclamation；　which　the　particular　recording

angel　who　heard　it　pretended　not　to　understand；　or　it　might　have　gone

hard　with　the　Latin　tutor　some　time　or　other。



〃Iris　shall　be　her　name！〃he　said。　　So　her　name　was　Iris。



The　natural　end　of　a　tutor　is　to　perish　by　starvation。　　It　is　only

a　question　of　time；　just　as　with　the　burning　of　college　libraries。

These　all　burn　up　sooner　or　later；　provided　they　are　not　housed　in

brick　or　stone　and　iron。　　I　don't　mean　that　you　will　see　in　the

registry　of　deaths　that　this　or　that　particular　tutor　died　of　well…

marked；　uncomplicated　starvation。　　They　may；　even；　in　extreme　cases；

be　carried　off　by　a　thin；　watery　kind　of　apoplexy；　which　sounds　very

well　in　the　returns；　but　means　little　to　those　who　know　that　it　is

only　debility　settling　on　the　head。　　Generally；　however；　they　fade

and　waste　away　under　various　pretexts；calling　it　dyspepsia；

consumption；　and　so　on；　to　put　a　decent　appearance　upon　the　case　and

keep　up　the　credit　of　the　family　and　the　institution　where　they　have

passed　through　the　successive　stages　of　inanition。



In　some　cases　it　takes　a　great　many　years　to　kill　a　tutor　by　the

process　in　question。　　You　see　they　do　get　food　and　clothes　and　fuel；

in　appreciable　quantities；　such　as　they　are。　　You　will　even　notice

rows　of　books　in　their　rooms；　and　a　picture　or　two；things　that　look

as　if　they　had　surplus　money；　but　these　superfluities　are　the　water

of　crystallization　to　scholars；　and　you　can　never　get　them　away　till

the　poor　fellows　effloresce　into　dust。　　Do　not　be　deceived。　　The

tutor　breakfasts　on　coffee　made　of　beans；　edulcorated　with　milk

watered　to　the　verge　of　transparency；　his　mutton　is　tough　and

elastic；　up　to　the　moment　when　it　becomes　tired　out　and　tasteless；

his　coal　is　a　sullen；　sulphurous　anthracite；　which　rusts　into　ashes；

rather　than　burns；　in　the　shallow　grate；　his　flimsy　broadcloth　is　too

thin　for　winter　and　too　thick　for　summer。　　The　greedy　lungs　of　fifty

hot…blooded　boys　suck　the　oxygen　from　the　air　he　breathes　in　his

recitation…room。　　In　short；　he　undergoes　a　process　of　gentle　and

gradual　starvation。



The　mother　of　little　Iris　was　not　called　Electra；　like　hers　of　the

old　story；　neither　was　her　grandfather　Oceanus。　　Her　blood…name；

which　she　gave　away　with　her　heart　to　the　Latin　tutor；　was　a　plain

old　English　one；　and　her　water…name　was　Hannah；　beautiful　as

recalling　the　mother　of　Samuel；　and　admirable　as　reading　equally　well

from　the　initial　letter　forwards　and　from　the　terminal　letter

backwards。　　The　poor　lady；　seated　with　her　companion　at　the

chessboard　of　matrimony；　had　but　just　pushed　forward　her　one　little

white　pawn　upon　an　empty　square；　when　the　Black　Knight；　that　cares

nothing　for　castles　or　kings　or　queens；　swooped　down　upon　her　and

swept　her　from　the　larger　board　of　life。



The　old　Latin　tutor　put　a　modest　blue　stone　at　the　head　of　his　late

companion；　with　her　name　and　age　and　Eheu！　　upon　it；a　smaller　one

at　her　feet；　with　initials；　and　left　her　by　herself；　to　be　rained　and

snowed　on；which　is　a　hard　thing　to　do　for　those　whom　we　have

cherished　tenderly。



About　the　time　that　the　lichens；　falling　on　the　stone；　like　drops　of

water；　had　spread　into　fair；　round　rosettes；　the　tutor　had　starved

into　a　slight　cough。　　Then　he　began　to　draw　the　buckle　of　his　black

trousers　a　little　tighter；　and　took　in　another　reef　in　his　never…

ample　waistcoat。　　His　temples　got　a　little　hollow；　and　the　contrasts

of　color　in　his　cheeks　more　vivid　than　of　old。　　After　a　while　his

walks　fatigued　him；　and　he　was　tired；　and　breathed　hard　after　going

up　a　flight　or　two　of　stairs。　　Then　came　on　other　marks　of　inward

trouble　and　general　waste；　which　he　spoke　of　to　his　physician　as

peculiar；　and　doubtless　owing　to　accidental　causes；　to　all　which　the

doctor　listened　with　deference；　as　if　it　had　not　been　the　old　story

that　one　in　five　or　six　of　mankind　in　temperate　climates　tells；　or

has　told　for　him；　as　if　it　were　something　new。　　As　the　doctor　went

out；　he　said　to　himself；〃On　the　rail　at　last。　　Accommodation　train。

A　good　many　stops；　but　will　get　to　the　station　by　and　by。〃　　So　the

doctor　wrote　a　recipe　with　the　astrological　sign　of　Jupiter　before

it；　（just　as　your　own　physician　does；　inestimable　reader；　as　you　will

see；　if　you　look　at　his　next　prescription；）　and　departed；　saying　he

would　look　in　occasionally。　　After　this；　the　Latin　tutor　began　the

usual　course　of　〃getting　better；〃　until　he　got　so　much　better　that

his　face　was　very　sharp；　and　when　he　smiled；　three　crescent　lines

showed　at　each　side　of　his　lips；　and　when　he　spoke；　it　was　in　a

muffled　whisper；　and　the　white　of　his　eye　glistened　as　pearly　as　the

purest　porcelain；so　much　better；　that　he　hopedby　springhe

might　be　abletoattendto　his　class　again。　But　he　was

recommended　not　to　expose　himself；　and　so　kept　his　chamber；　and

occasionally；　not　having　anything　to　do；　his　bed。　　The　unmarried

sister　with　whom　he　lived　took　care　of　him；　and　the　child；　now　old

enough　to　be　manageable　and　even　useful　in　trifling　offices；　sat　in

the　chamber；　or　played；　about。



Things　could　not　go　on　so　forever；　of　course。　　One　morning　his　face

was　sunken　and　his　hands　were　very；　very　cold。　　He　was　〃better；〃　he

whispered；　but　sadly　and　faintly。　　After　a　while　he　grew　restless　and

seemed　a　little　wandering。　　His　mind　ran　on　his　classics；　and　fell

back　on　the　Latin　grammar。



〃Iris！　　〃　he　said；〃；filiola　mea！〃The　child　knew　this　meant　my

dear　little　daughter　as　well　as　if　it　had　been　English。　〃Rainbow！

〃for　he　would　translate　her　name　at　times；〃come　to　me；veni〃and

his　lips　went　on　automatically；　and　murmured；〃　vel　venito！〃　The

child　came　and　sat　by　his　bedside　and　took　his　hand；　which　she　could

not　warm；　but　which　shot　its　rays　of　cold　all　through　her　slender

frame。　　But　there　she　sat；　looking　steadily　at　him。　　Presently　he

opened　his　lips　feebly；　and　whispered；　〃Moribundus。〃　　She　did　not

know　what　that　meant；　but　she　saw　that　there　was　something　new　and

sad。　　So　she　began　to　cry；　but　presently　remembering　an　old　book　that

seemed　to　comfort　him　at　times；　got　up　and　brought　a　Bible　in　the

Latin　version；　called　the　Vulgate。　　〃Open　it；〃　he　said；〃I　will

read；　segnius　irritant；don't　put　the　light　out；ah！　　hoeret

lateri；I　am　going；vale；　vale；　vale；　goodbye；　good…bye；the　Lord

take　care　of　my　child！　　Domine；　audi　vel　audito！〃　His　face　whitened

suddenly；　and　he　lay　still；　with　open　eyes　and　mouth。　　He　had　taken

his　last　degree。



Little　Miss　Iris　could　not　be　said　to　begin　life　with　a　very

brilliant　rainbow　over　her；　in　a　worldly　point　of　view。　　A　limited

wardrobe　of　man's　attire；　such　as　poor　tutors　wear；a　few　good

books；　principally　classics；a　print　or　two；　and　a　plaster　model　of

the　Pantheon；　with　some　pieces　of　furniture　which　had　seen　service；

these；　and　a　child's　heart　full　of　tearful　recollections　and　strange

doubts　and　questions；　alternating　with　the　cheap　pleasures　which　are

the　anodynes　of　childish　grief；　such　were　the　treasures　she

inherited。　No；I　forgot。　　With　that　kindly　sentiment　which　all　of

us　feel　for　old　men's　first　children；frost…flowers　of　the　early

winter　season；　the　old　tutor's　students　had　remembered　him　at　a　time

when　he　was　laughing　and　crying　with　his　new　parental　emotions；　and

running　to　the　side　of　the　plain　crib　in　which　his　alter　egg；　as　he

used　to　say；　was　swinging；　to　hang　over　the　little　heap　of　stirring

clothes；　from　which　looked　the　minute；　red；　downy；　still；　round　face；

with　unfixed　eyes　and　working　lips；in　that　unearthly　gravity　which

has　never　yet　been　broken　by　a　smile；　and　which　gives　to　the　earliest

moon…year　or　two　of　an　infant's　life　the　character　of　a　first　old

age；　to　counterpoise　that　second　childhood　which　there　is　one　chance

in　a　dozen　it　may　reach　by　and　by。　　The　boys　had　remembered　the　old

man　and　young　father　at　that　tender　period　of　his　hard；　dry　life。

There　came　to　him　a　fair；　silver　goblet；　embossed　with　classical

figures；　and　bearing　on　a　shield　the　graver　words；　Ex　dono

pupillorum。　　The　handle　on　its　side　showed　what　use　the　boys　had

meant　it　for；　and　a　kind　letter　in　it；　written　with　the　best　of

feeling；　in　the　worst　of　Latin；　pointed　delicately　to　its

destination。　　Out　of　this　silver　vessel；　after　a　long；　desperate；

strangling　cry；　which　marked　her　first　great　lesson　in　the　realities

of　life；　the　child　took　the　blue　milk；　such　as　poor　tutors　and　their

children　get；　tempered　with　water；　an