the patrician-第4章

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apart；　suddenly　find　that　they　have　met　at　some　spot　where　they
cannot　possibly　have　a　fight。　　And　the　woman　watched；　the　owner；　as
it　were；　of　one；　but　who；　from　sheer　love　of　dogs；　had　always　stroked
and　patted　the　other。

〃So；　Mr。　Courtier；〃　said　the　younger　man；　whose　dry；　ironic　voice；
like　his　smile；　seemed　defending　the　fervid　spirit　in　his　eyes；　〃all
you　say　only　amounts；　you　see；　to　a　defence　of　the　so…called　Liberal
spirit；　and；　forgive　my　candour；　that　spirit；　being　an　importation
from　the　realms　of　philosophy　and　art；　withers　the　moment　it　touches
practical　affairs。

The　man　with　the　red　moustaches　laughed；　the　sound　was　queerat　once
so　genial　and　so　sardonic。

〃Well　put！〃　he　said：　〃And　far　be　it　from　me　to　gainsay。　　But　since
compromise　is　the　very　essence　of　politics；　high…priests　of　caste　and
authority；　like　you；　Lord　Miltoun；　are　every　bit　as　much　out　of　it　as
any　Liberal　professor。〃

〃I　don't　agree！〃

〃Agree　or　not；　your　position　towards　public　affairs　is　very　like　the
Church's　attitude　towards　marriage　and　divorce；　as　remote　from　the
realities　of　life　as　the　attitude　of　the　believer　in　Free　Love；　and
not　more　likely　to　catch　on。　　The　death　of　your　point　of　view　lies　in
itselfit's　too　dried…up　and　far　from　things　ever　to　understand
them。　　If　you　don't　understand　you　can　never　rule。　　You　might　just　as
well　keep　your　hands　in　your　pockets；　as　go　into　politics　with　your
notions！〃

〃I　fear　we　must　continue　to　agree　to　differ。〃

〃Well；　perhaps　I　do　pay　you　too　high　a　compliment。　　After　all；　you
are　a　patrician。〃

〃You　speak　in　riddles；　Mr。　Courtier。〃

The　dark…eyed　woman　stirred；　her　hands　gave　a　sort　of　flutter；　as
though　in　deprecation　of　acerbity。

Rising　at　once；　and　speaking　in　a　deferential　voice；　the　elder　man
said

〃We're　tiring　Mrs。　Noel。　　Good…night；　Audrey；　It's　high　time　I　was
off。〃　　　Against　the　darkness　of　the　open　French　window；　he　turned
round　to　fire　a　parting　shot。

〃What　I　meant；　Lord　Miltoun；　was　that　your　class　is　the　driest　and
most　practical　in　the　Stateit's　odd　if　it　doesn't　save　you　from　a
poet's　dreams。　　Good…night！〃　　He　passed　out　on　to　the　lawn；　and
vanished。

The　young　man　sat　unmoving；　the　glow　of　the　fire　had　caught　his　face；
so　that　a　spirit　seemed　clinging　round　his　lips；　gleaming　out　of　his
eyes。　　Suddenly　he　said：

〃Do　you　believe　that；　Mrs。　Noel？〃

For　answer　Audrey　Noel　smiled；　then　rose　and　went　over　to　the　window。

〃Look　at　my　dear　toad！　　It　comes　here　every　evening！〃
On　a　flagstone　of　the　verandah；　in　the　centre　of　the　stream　of
lamplight；　sat　a　little　golden　toad。　　As　Miltoun　came　to　look；　it
waddled　to　one　side；　and　vanished。

〃How　peaceful　your　garden　is！〃　he　said；　then　taking　her　hand；　he　very
gently　raised　it　to　his　lips；　and　followed　his　opponent　out　into　the
darkness。

Truly　peace　brooded　over　that　garden。　　The　Night　seemed　listening
all　lights　out；　all　hearts　at　rest。　　It　watched；　with　a　little　white
star　for　every　tree；　and　roof；　and　slumbering　tired　flower；　as　a
mother　watches　her　sleeping　child；　leaning　above　him　and　counting
with　her　love　every　hair　of　his　head；　and　all　his　tiny　tremors。

Argument　seemed　child's　babble　indeed　under　the　smile　of　Night。　　And
the　face　of　the　woman；　left　alone　at　her　window；　was　a　little　like
the　face　of　this　warm；　sweet　night。　　It　was　sensitive；　harmonious；
and　its　harmony　was　not；　as　in　some　faces；　coldbut　seemed　to
tremble　and　glow　and　flutter；　as　though　it　were　a　spirit　which　had
found　its　place　of　resting。

In　her　garden；all　velvety　grey；　with　black　shadows　beneath　the　yew…
trees；　the　white　flowers　alone　seemed　to　be　awake；　and　to　look　at　her
wistfully。　　The　trees　stood　dark　and　still。　　Not　even　the　night　birds
stirred。　　Alone；　the　little　stream　down　in　the　bottom　raised　its
voice；　privileged　when　day　voices　were　hushed。

It　was　not　in　Audrey　Noel　to　deny　herself　to　any　spirit　that　was
abroad；　to　repel　was　an　art　she　did　not　practise。　　But　this　night；
though　the　Spirit　of　Peace　hovered　so　near；　she　did　not　seem　to　know
it。　　Her　hands　trembled；　her　cheeks　were　burning；　her　breast　heaved；
and　sighs　fluttered　from　her　lips；　just　parted。




CHAPTER　V

Eustace　Cardoc；　Viscount　Miltoun；　had　lived　a　very　lonely　life；　since
he　first　began　to　understand　the　peculiarities　of　existence。　　With
the　exception　of　Clifton；　his　grandmother's　'majordomo；'　he　made；　as
a　small　child；　no　intimate　friend。　　His　nurses；　governesses；　tutors；
by　their　own　confession　did　not　understand　him；　finding　that　he　took
himself　with　unnecessary　seriousness；　a　little　afraid；　too；　of　one
whom　they　discovered　to　be　capable　of　pushing　things　to　the　point　of
enduring　pain　in　silence。　　Much　of　that　early　time　was　passed　at
Ravensham；　for　he　had　always　been　Lady　Casterley's　favourite
grandchild。　　She　recognized　in　him　the　purposeful　austerity　which　had
somehow　been　omitted　from　the　composition　of　her　daughter。　　But　only
to　Clifton；　then　a　man　of　fifty　with　a　great　gravity　and　long　black
whiskers；　did　Eustace　relieve　his　soul。　　〃I　tell　you　this；　Clifton；〃
he　would　say；　sitting　on　the　sideboard；　or　the　arm　of　the　big　chair
in　Clifton's　room；　or　wandering　amongst　the　raspberries；　〃because　you
are　my　friend。〃

And　Clifton；　with　his　head　a　little　on　one　side；　and　a　sort　of　wise
concern　at　his　'friend's'　confidences；　which　were　sometimes　of　an
embarrassing　description；　would　answer　now　and　then：　〃Of　course；　my
lord；〃　but　more　often：　〃Of　course；　my　dear。〃

There　was　in　this　friendship　something　fine　and　suitable；　neither　of
these　'friends'　taking　or　suffering　liberties；　and　both　being
interested　in　pigeons；　which　they　would　stand　watching　with　a
remarkable　attention。

In　course　of　time；　following　the　tradition　of　his　family；　Eustace
went　to　Harrow。　　He　was　there　five　yearsalways　one　of　those　boys　a
little　out　at　wrists　and　ankles；　who　may　be　seen　slouching；　solitary；
along　the　pavement　to　their　own　haunts；　rather　dusty；　and　with　one
shoulder　slightly　raised　above　the　other；　from　the　habit　of　carrying
something　beneath　one　arm。　　Saved　from　being　thought　a　'smug；'　by　his
title；　his　lack　of　any　conspicuous　scholastic　ability；　his　obvious
independence　of　what　was　thought　of　him；　and　a　sarcastic　tongue；
which　no　one　was　eager　to　encounter；　he　remained　the　ugly　duckling
who　refused　to　paddle　properly　in　the　green　ponds　of　Public　School
tradition。　　He　played　games　so　badly　that　in　sheer　self…defence　his
fellows　permitted　him　to　play　without　them。　　Of　'fives'　they　made　an
exception；　for　in　this　he　attained　much　proficiency；　owing　to　a
certain　windmill…like　quality　of　limb。　　He　was　noted　too　for　daring
chemical　experiments；　of　which　he　usually　had　one　or　two　brewing；
surreptitiously　at　first；　and　afterwards　by　special　permission　of　his
house…master；　on　the　principle　that　if　a　room　must　smell；　it　had
better　smell　openly。　　He　made　few　friendships；　but　these　were
lasting。

His　Latin　was　so　poor；　and　his　Greek　verse　so　vile；　that　all　had　been
surprised　when　towards　the　finish　of　his　career　he　showed　a　very
considerable　power　of　writing　and　speaking　his　own　language。　　He　left
school　without　a　pang。　　But　when　in　the　train　he　saw　the　old　Hill　and
the　old　spire　on　the　top　of　it　fading　away　from　him；　a　lump　rose　in
his　throat；　he　swallowed　violently　two　or　three　times；　and；　thrusting
himself　far　back　into　the　carriage　corner；　appeared　to　sleep。

At　Oxford；　he　was　happier；　but　still　comparatively　lonely；　remaining；
so　long　as　custom　permitted；　in　lodgings　outside　his　College；　and
clinging　thereafter　to　remote；　panelled　rooms　high　up；　overlooking
the　gardens　and　a　portion　of　the　city　wall。　　It　was　at　Oxford　that　he
first　developed　that　passion　for　self…discipline　which　afterwards
distinguished　him。　　He　took　up　rowing；　and；　though　thoroughly
unsuited　by　nature　to　this　pastime；　secured　himself　a　place　in　his
College　'torpid。'　　At　the　end　of　a　race　he　was　usually　supported　from
his　stretcher　in　a　state　of　extreme　extenuation；　due　to　having　pulled
the　last　quarter　of　the　course　entirely　with　his　spirit。　　The　same
craving　for　self…discipline　guided　him　in　the　choice　of　Schools；　he
went　out　in　'Greats；'　for　which；　owing　to　his　indifferent　mastery　of
Greek　and　Latin；　he　was　the　least　fitted。　　With　enormous　labour　he
took　a　very　good　degree。　　He　carried　off　besides；　the　highest
distinctions　of　the　University　for　English　Essays。　　The　ordinary
circles　of　College　life　knew　nothing　of　him。　　Not　once　in　the　whole
course　of　his　University　career；　was　he　the　better　for　wine。　　He；　did
not　hunt；　he　never　talked　of　women；　and　none　talked　of　women　in　his
presence。　　But　now　and　then　he　was　visited　by　those　gusts　which　come
to　the　ascetic；　when　all　life　seemed　suddenly　caught　up　and　devoured
by　a　flame　burning　night　and　day；　and　going　out　mercifully；　he　knew
not　why；　like　a　blown　candle。　　However　unsocial　in　the　proper　sense
of　the　word；　he　by　no　means　lacked　company　in　these　Oxford　days。　　He
knew　many；　both　dons　and　undergraduates。　　His　long　stride；　and
determined　absence　of　direction；　had　severely　tried　all　those　who
could　stomach　so　slow　a　pastime　as　walking　for　the　sake　of　talking。
The　country　knew　himthough　he　never　knew　the　countryfrom　Abingdon
to　Bablock　Hythe。　　His　name　stood　high；　too；　at　the　Union；　where　he
made　his　mark　during　his　first　term　in　a　debate　on　a　'Censorship　of
Literature'　which　he　advocated　with　gloom；　pertinacity；　and　a　certain
youthful　brilliance　that　might　well　have　carried　the　day；　had　not　an
Irishman　got　up　and　pointed　out　the　danger　hanging　over　the　Old
Testament。　　To　that　he　had　retorted：　〃Better；　sir；　it　should　run　a
risk　than　have　no　risk　to　run。〃　　From　which　moment　he　was　notable。

He　stayed　up　four　years；　and　went　down　with　a　sense　of　bewilderment
and　loss。　　The　matured　verdict　of　Oxford　on　this　child　of　hers；　was
〃Eustace　Miltoun！　　Ah！　　Queer　bird！　　Will　make　his　mark！〃

He　had　about　this　time　an　interview　with　his　father　which　confirmed
the　impression　each　had　formed　of　the　other。　　It　took　place　in　the
library　at　Monkland　Court；　on　a　late　November　afternoon。

The　light　of　eight　candles　in　thin　silver　candlesticks；　four　on
either　side　of　the　carved　stone　hearth；　illumined　that　room。　　Their
gentle　radiance　penetrated　but　a　little　way　into　the　great　dark　space
lined　with　books；　panelled　and　floored　with　black　oak；　where　the
acrid　fragrance　of　leather　and　dried　roseleaves　seemed　to　drench　the；
very　soul　with　the　aroma　of　the　past。　　Above　the　huge　fireplace；　with
light　falling　on　one　side　of　his　shaven　face；　hung　a　portrait
painter　unknownof　that　Cardinal　Caradoc　who　suffered　for　his　faith
in　the　sixteenth　century。　　Ascetic；　crucified；　with　a　little　smile
clinging　to　the　lips　and　deep…set　eyes；　he　presided；　above　the
bluefish　flames　of　a　log　fire。

Father　and　son　found　some　difficulty　in　beginning。

Each　of　those　two　felt　as　though　he　were　in　the　presence　of　someone
else's　very　near　relation。　　They　had；　in　fact；　seen　extremely　little
of　each　other；　and　not　seen　that　little　long。

Lord　Valleys　uttered　the　first　remark：

〃Well；　my　dear　fellow；　what　are　you　going　to　do　now？　　I　think　we　can
make　certain　of　this　seat　down　here；　if　you　like　to　stand。〃

Miltoun　had　answered：　〃Thanks；　very　much；　I