manalive-第3章

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a　tenderer　nerve；　half　remembered　the　old；　young　theatricals　with　Rosamund；
and　was　amused　to　find　himself　almost　quoting　Shakespeare

　　　　　　　　〃For　valour。　　Is　not　love　a　Hercules；
　　　　　　　　　Still　climbing　trees　in　the　Hesperides？〃


Even　the　immovable　man　of　science　had　a　bright；　bewildered　sensation
that　the　Time　Machine　had　given　a　great　jerk；　and　gone　forward
with　rather　rattling　rapidity。

He　was　not；　however；　wholly　prepared　for　what　happened　next。
The　man　in　green；　riding　the　frail　topmost　bough　like　a　witch　on　a　very　risky
broomstick；　reached　up　and　rent　the　black　hat　from　its　airy　nest　of　twigs。
It　had　been　broken　across　a　heavy　bough　in　the　first　burst　of　its　passage；
a　tangle　of　branches　in　torn　and　scored　and　scratched　it　in　every　direction；
a　clap　of　wind　and　foliage　had　flattened　it　like　a　concertina；　nor　can　it
be　said　that　the　obliging　gentleman　with　the　sharp　nose　showed　any　adequate
tenderness　for　its　structure　when　he　finally　unhooked　it　from　its　place。
When　he　had　found　it；　however；　his　proceedings　were　by　some　counted　singular。
He　waved　it　with　a　loud　whoop　of　triumph；　and　then　immediately　appeared
to　fall　backwards　off　the　tree；　to　which；　however；　he　remained
attached　by　his　long　strong　legs；　like　a　monkey　swung　by　his　tail。
Hanging　thus　head　downwards　above　the　unhelmed　Warner；　he　gravely　proceeded
to　drop　the　battered　silk　cylinder　upon　his　brows。　　〃Every　man　a　king；〃
explained　the　inverted　philosopher；　〃every　hat　（consequently）　a　crown。
But　this　is　a　crown　out　of　heaven。〃

And　he　again　attempted　the　coronation　of　Warner；　who；　however；　moved　away
with　great　abruptness　from　the　hovering　diadem；　not　seeming；　strangely　enough；
to　wish　for　his　former　decoration　in　its　present　state。

〃Wrong；　wrong！〃　cried　the　obliging　person　hilariously。
〃Always　wear　uniform；　even　if　it's　shabby　uniform！
Ritualists　may　always　be　untidy。　　Go　to　a　dance　with　soot　on
your　shirt…front；　but　go　with　a　shirt…front。　Huntsman　wears　old　coat；
but　old　pink　coat。　　Wear　a　topper；　even　if　it's　got　no　top。
It's　the　symbol　that　counts；　old　cock。　　Take　your　hat；
because　it　is　your　hat　after　all；　its　nap　rubbed　all　off
by　the　bark；　dears；　and　its　brim　not　the　least　bit　curled；
but　for　old　sakes'　sake　it　is　still；　dears；　the　nobbiest　tile
in　the　world。〃

Speaking　thus；　with　a　wild　comfortableness；　he　settled　or　smashed
the　shapeless　silk　hat　over　the　face　of　the　disturbed　physician；
and　fell　on　his　feet　among　the　other　men；　still　talking；
beaming　and　breathless。

〃Why　don't　they　make　more　games　out　of　wind？〃　he　asked　in　some　excitement。
〃Kites　are　all　right；　but　why　should　it　only　be　kites？　　Why；　I　thought
of　three　other　games　for　a　windy　day　while　I　was　climbing　that　tree。
Here's　one　of　them：　　you　take　a　lot　of　pepper〃

〃I　think；〃　interposed　Moon；　with　a　sardonic　mildness；
〃that　your　games　are　already　sufficiently　interesting。
Are　you；　may　I　ask；　a　professional　acrobat　on　a　tour；
or　a　travelling　advertisement　of　Sunny　Jim？　　How　and　why　do　you
display　all　this　energy　for　clearing　walls　and　climbing　trees
in　our　melancholy；　but　at　least　rational；　suburbs？〃

The　stranger；　so　far　as　so　loud　a　person　was　capable　of　it；
appeared　to　grow　confidential。

〃Well；　it's　a　trick　of　my　own；〃　he　confessed　candidly。
〃I　do　it　by　having　two　legs。〃

Arthur　Inglewood；　who　had　sunk　into　the　background　of　this　scene　of　folly；
started　and　stared　at　the　newcomer　with　his　short…sighted　eyes　screwed　up
and　his　high　colour　slightly　heightened。

〃Why；　I　believe　you're　Smith；〃　he　cried　with　his　fresh；　almost　boyish　voice；
and　then　after　an　instant's　stare；　〃and　yet　I'm　not　sure。〃

〃I　have　a　card；　I　think；〃　said　the　unknown；　with　baffling　solemnity〃a　card
with　my　real　name；　my　titles；　offices；　and　true　purpose　on　this　earth。〃

He　drew　out　slowly　from　an　upper　waistcoat　pocket　a　scarlet
card…case；　and　as　slowly　produced　a　very　large　card。
Even　in　the　instant　of　its　production；　they　fancied　it　was
of　a　queer　shape；　unlike　the　cards　of　ordinary　gentlemen。
But　it　was　there　only　for　an　instant；　for　as　it　passed　from
his　fingers　to　Arthur's；　one　or　another　slipped　his　hold。
The　strident；　tearing　gale　in　that　garden　carried　away
the　stranger's　card　to　join　the　wild　waste　paper　of　the　universe；
and　that　great　western　wind　shook　the　whole　house　and　passed。




　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Chapter　II

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　Luggage　of　an　Optimist


We　all　remember　the　fairy　tales　of　science　in　our　infancy；　which　played
with　the　supposition　that　large　animals　could　jump　in　the　proportion
of　small　ones。　　If　an　elephant　were　as　strong　as　a　grasshopper；　he　could
（I　suppose）　spring　clean　out　of　the　Zoological　Gardens　and　alight
trumpeting　upon　Primrose　Hill。　　If　a　whale　could　leap　from　the　sea
like　a　trout；　perhaps　men　might　look　up　and　see　one　soaring　above
Yarmouth　like　the　winged　island　of　Laputa。　　Such　natural　energy；
though　sublime；　might　certainly　be　inconvenient；　and　much　of　this
inconvenience　attended　the　gaiety　and　good　intentions　of　the　man　in　green。
He　was　too　large　for　everything；　because　he　was　lively　as　well　as　large。
By　a　fortunate　physical　provision；　most　very　substantial　creatures
are　also　reposeful；　and　middle…class　boarding…houses　in　the　lesser
parts　of　London　are　not　built　for　a　man　as　big　as　a　bull　and　excitable
as　a　kitten。

When　Inglewood　followed　the　stranger　into　the　boarding…house；
he　found　him　talking　earnestly　（and　in　his　own　opinion　privately）
to　the　helpless　Mrs。　Duke。　　That　fat；　faint　lady　could　only
goggle　up　like　a　dying　fish　at　the　enormous　new　gentleman；
who　politely　offered　himself　as　a　lodger；　with　vast　gestures
of　the　wide　white　hat　in　one　hand；　and　the　yellow　Gladstone　bag
in　the　other。　　Fortunately；　Mrs。　Duke's　more　efficient　niece
and　partner　was　there　to　complete　the　contract；　for；　indeed；
all　the　people　of　the　house　had　somehow　collected　in　the　room。
This　fact；　in　truth；　was　typical　of　the　whole　episode。
The　visitor　created　an　atmosphere　of　comic　crisis；　and　from
the　time　he　came　into　the　house　to　the　time　he　left　it；　he　somehow
got　the　company　to　gather　and　even　follow　（though　in　derision）
as　children　gather　and　follow　a　Punch　and　Judy。　　An　hour　ago；
and　for　four　years　previously；　these　people　had　avoided
each　other；　even　when　they　had　really　liked　each　other。
They　had　slid　in　and　out　of　dismal　and　deserted　rooms　in　search
of　particular　newspapers　or　private　needlework。　　Even　now　they
all　came　casually；　as　with　varying　interests；　but　they　all　came。
There　was　the　embarrassed　Inglewood；　still　a　sort　of　red　shadow；
there　was　the　unembarrassed　Warner；　a　pallid　but　solid　substance。
There　was　Michael　Moon　offering　like　a　riddle　the　contrast
of　the　horsy　crudeness　of　his　clothes　and　the　sombre　sagacity
of　his　visage。　　He　was　now　joined　by　his　yet　more　comic　crony；
Moses　Gould。　　Swaggering　on　short　legs　with　a　prosperous
purple　tie；　he　was　the　gayest　of　godless　little　dogs；
but　like　a　dog　also　in　this；　that　however　he　danced　and
wagged　with　delight；　the　two　dark　eyes　on　each　side　of　his
protuberant　nose　glistened　gloomily　like　black　buttons。
There　was　Miss　Rosamund　Hunt；　still　with　the　find　white　hat
framing　her　square；　good…looking　face；　and　still　with　her　native
air　of　being　dressed　for　some　party　that　never　came　off。
She　also；　like　Mr。　Moon；　had　a　new　companion；　new　so　far　as　this
narrative　goes；　but　in　reality　an　old　friend　and　a　protegee。
This　was　a　slight　young　woman　in　dark　gray；　and　in　no　way
notable　but　for　a　load　of　dull　red　hair；　of　which　the　shape
somehow　gave　her　pale　face　that　triangular；　almost　peaked；
appearance　which　was　given　by　the　lowering　headdress　and　deep　rich
ruff　of　the　Elizabethan　beauties。　　Her　surname　seemed　to　be　Gray；
and　Miss　Hunt　called　her　Mary；　in　that　indescribable　tone
applied　to　a　dependent　who　has　practically　become　a　friend。
She　wore　a　small　silver　cross　on　her　very　business…like
gray　clothes；　and　was　the　only　member　of　the　party　who　went
to　church。　　Last；　but　the　reverse　of　least；　there　as　Diana　Duke；
studying　the　newcomer　with　eyes　of　steel；　and　listening
carefully　to　every　idiotic　word　he　said。　　As　for　Mrs。　Duke；
she　smiled　up　at　him；　but　never　dreamed　of　listening　to　him。
She　had　never　really　listened　to　any　one　in　her　life；　which；　some　said；
was　why　she　had　survived。

Nevertheless；　Mrs。　Duke　was　pleased　with　her　new　guest's
concentration　of　courtesy　upon　herself；　for　no　one　ever　spoke
seriously　to　her　any　more　than　she　listened　seriously　to　any　one。
And　she　almost　beamed　as　the　stranger；　with　yet　wider　and　almost
whirling　gestures　of　explanation　with　his　huge　hat　and　bag；
apologized　for　having　entered　by　the　wall　instead　of　the　front　door。
He　was　understood　to　put　it　down　to　an　unfortunate　family　tradition
of　neatness　and　care　of　his　clothes。

〃My　mother　was　rather　strict　about　it；　to　tell　the　truth；〃
he　said；　lowering　his　voice；　to　Mrs。　Duke。　　〃She　never　liked
me　to　lose　my　cap　at　school。　　And　when　a　man's　been　taught
to　be　tidy　and　neat　it　sticks　to　him。〃

Mrs。　Duke　weakly　gasped　that　she　was　sure　he　must　have　had　a　good　mother；
but　her　niece　seemed　inclined　to　probe　the　matter　further。

〃You've　got　a　funny　idea　of　neatness；〃　she　said；　〃if　it's
jumping　garden　walls　and　clambering　up　garden　trees。
A　man　can't　very　well　climb　a　tree　tidily。〃

〃He　can　clear　a　wall　neatly；〃　said　Michael　Moon；　〃I　saw　him　do　it。〃

Smith　seemed　to　be　regarding　the　girl　with　genuine　astonishment。
〃My　dear　young　lady；〃　he　said；　〃I　was　tidying　the　tree。　　You　don't　want
last　year's　hats　there；　do　you；　any　more　than　last　year's　leaves？
The　wind　takes　off　the　leaves；　but　it　couldn't　manage　the　hat；　that　wind；
I　suppose；　has　tidied　whole　forests　to…day。　Rum　idea　this　is；　that　tidiness
is　a　timid；　quiet　sort　of　thing；　why；　tidiness　is　a　toil　for　giants。
You　can't　tidy　anything　without　untidying　yourself；　just　look　at　my　trousers。
Don't　you　know　that？　　Haven't　you　ever　had　a　spring　cleaning？〃

〃Oh　yes；　sir；〃　said　Mrs。　Duke；　almost　eagerly。　　〃You　will　find
everything　of　that　sort　quite　nice。〃　　For　the　first　time　she
had　heard　two　words　that　she　could　understand。

Miss　Diana　Duke　seemed　to　be　studying　the　stranger　with　a　sort　of　spasm
of　calculation；　then　her　black　eyes　snapped　with　decision；　and　she　said
that　he　could　have　a　particular　bedroom　on　the　top　floor　if　he　liked：
and　the　silent　and　sensitive　Inglewood；　who　had　been　on　the　rack　through
these　cross…purposes；　eagerly　offered　to　show　him　up　to　the　room。
Smith　went　up　the　stairs　four　at　a　time；　and　when　he　bumped　his　head
against　the　ultimate　ceiling；　Inglewood　had　an　odd　sensation　that　the　tall
house　was　much　shorter　than　it　used　to　be。

Arthur　Inglewood　followed　his　old　friendor　his　new　friend；
for　he　did　not　very　clearly　know　which　he　was。　　The　face　looked
very　like　his　old　schoolfellow's　at　one　second　and　very　unlike
at　another。　　And　when　Inglewood　broke　through　his　native
politeness　so　far　as　to　say　suddenly；　〃Is　your　name　Smith？〃
he　received　only　the　unenlightening　reply；　〃Quite　right；
quite　right。　　Very　good。　　Excellent！〃　　Which　appeared　to　Inglewood；
on　reflection；　rather　the　speech　of　a　new…born　babe　accepting
a　name　than　of　a　grown…up　man　admitting　one。

Despite　these　doubts　about　identity；