eugene pickering-第2章

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He　looked　as　if　he　had　been　lounging　there　for　some　time；　his　hair

was　tossed　about　as　if　he　had　been　sleeping；　on　the　grass　near　him；

beside　his　hat　and　stick；　lay　a　sealed　letter。　　When　he　perceived　me

he　jerked　himself　forward；　and　I　stood　looking　at　him　without

introducing　myselfpurposely；　to　give　him　a　chance　to　recognise　me。

He　put　on　his　glasses；　being　awkwardly　near…sighted；　and　stared　up　at

me　with　an　air　of　general　trustfulness；　but　without　a　sign　of　knowing

me。　　So　at　last　I　introduced　myself。　　Then　he　jumped　up　and　grasped

my　hands；　and　stared　and　blushed　and　laughed；　and　began　a　dozen

random　questions；　ending　with　a　demand　as　to　how　in　the　world　I　had

known　him。



〃Why；　you　are　not　changed　so　utterly；〃　I　said；　〃and　after　all；　it's

but　fifteen　years　since　you　used　to　do　my　Latin　exercises　for　me。〃



〃Not　changed；　eh？〃　he　answered；　still　smiling；　and　yet　speaking　with

a　sort　of　ingenuous　dismay。



Then　I　remembered　that　poor　Pickering　had　been；　in　those　Latin　days；

a　victim　of　juvenile　irony。　　He　used　to　bring　a　bottle　of　medicine　to

school　and　take　a　dose　in　a　glass　of　water　before　lunch；　and　every

day　at　two　o'clock；　half　an　hour　before　the　rest　of　us　were

liberated；　an　old　nurse　with　bushy　eyebrows　came　and　fetched　him　away

in　a　carriage。　　His　extremely　fair　complexion；　his　nurse；　and　his

bottle　of　medicine；　which　suggested　a　vague　analogy　with　the

sleeping…potion　in　the　tragedy；　caused　him　to　be　called　Juliet。

Certainly　Romeo's　sweetheart　hardly　suffered　more；　she　was　not；　at

least；　a　standing　joke　in　Verona。　　Remembering　these　things；　I

hastened　to　say　to　Pickering　that　I　hoped　he　was　still　the　same　good

fellow　who　used　to　do　my　Latin　for　me。　　〃We　were　capital　friends；　you

know；〃　I　went　on；　〃then　and　afterwards。〃



〃Yes；　we　were　very　good　friends；〃　he　said；　〃and　that　makes　it　the

stranger　I　shouldn't　have　known　you。　　For　you　know；　as　a　boy；　I　never

had　many　friends；　nor　as　a　man　either。　　You　see；〃　he　added；　passing

his　hand　over　his　eyes；　〃I　am　rather　dazed；　rather　bewildered　at

finding　myself　for　the　first　timealone。〃　　And　he　jerked　back　his

shoulders　nervously；　and　threw　up　his　head；　as　if　to　settle　himself

in　an　unwonted　position。　　I　wondered　whether　the　old　nurse　with　the

bushy　eyebrows　had　remained　attached　to　his　person　up　to　a　recent

period；　and　discovered　presently　that；　virtually　at　least；　she　had。

We　had　the　whole　summer　day　before　us；　and　we　sat　down　on　the　grass

together　and　overhauled　our　old　memories。　　It　was　as　if　we　had

stumbled　upon　an　ancient　cupboard　in　some　dusky　corner；　and　rummaged

out　a　heap　of　childish　playthingstin　soldiers　and　torn　story…books；

jack…knives　and　Chinese　puzzles。　　This　is　what　we　remembered　between

us。



He　had　made　but　a　short　stay　at　schoolnot　because　he　was　tormented；

for　he　thought　it　so　fine　to　be　at　school　at　all　that　he　held　his

tongue　at　home　about　the　sufferings　incurred　through　the　medicine…

bottle；　but　because　his　father　thought　he　was　learning　bad　manners。

This　he　imparted　to　me　in　confidence　at　the　time；　and　I　remember　how

it　increased　my　oppressive　awe　of　Mr。　Pickering；　who　had　appeared　to

me　in　glimpses　as　a　sort　of　high　priest　of　the　proprieties。　　Mr。

Pickering　was　a　widowera　fact　which　seemed　to　produce　in　him　a　sort

of　preternatural　concentration　of　parental　dignity。　　He　was　a

majestic　man；　with　a　hooked　nose；　a　keen　dark　eye；　very　large

whiskers；　and　notions　of　his　own　as　to　how　a　boyor　his　boy；　at　any

rateshould　be　brought　up。　　First　and　foremost；　he　was　to　be　a

〃gentleman〃；　which　seemed　to　mean；　chiefly；　that　he　was　always　to

wear　a　muffler　and　gloves；　and　be　sent　to　bed；　after　a　supper　of

bread　and　milk；　at　eight　o'clock。　　School…life；　on　experiment；　seemed

hostile　to　these　observances；　and　Eugene　was　taken　home　again；　to　be

moulded　into　urbanity　beneath　the　parental　eye。　　A　tutor　was　provided

for　him；　and　a　single　select　companion　was　prescribed。　　The　choice；

mysteriously；　fell　on　me；　born　as　I　was　under　quite　another　star；　my

parents　were　appealed　to；　and　I　was　allowed　for　a　few　months　to　have

my　lessons　with　Eugene。　　The　tutor；　I　think；　must　have　been　rather　a

snob；　for　Eugene　was　treated　like　a　prince；　while　I　got　all　the

questions　and　the　raps　with　the　ruler。　　And　yet　I　remember　never

being　jealous　of　my　happier　comrade；　and　striking　up；　for　the　time；

one　of　those　friendships　of　childhood。　　He　had　a　watch　and　a　pony　and

a　great　store　of　picture…books；　but　my　envy　of　these　luxuries　was

tempered　by　a　vague　compassion　which　left　me　free　to　be　generous。　　I

could　go　out　to　play　alone；　I　could　button　my　jacket　myself；　and　sit

up　till　I　was　sleepy。　　Poor　Pickering　could　never　take　a　step　without

asking　leave；　or　spend　half　an　hour　in　the　garden　without　a　formal

report　of　it　when　he　came　in。　　My　parents；　who　had　no　desire　to　see

me　inoculated　with　importunate　virtues；　sent　me　back　to　school　at　the

end　of　six　months。　　After　that　I　never　saw　Eugene。　　His　father　went

to　live　in　the　country；　to　protect　the　lad's　morals；　and　Eugene

faded；　in　reminiscence；　into　a　pale　image　of　the　depressing　effects

of　education。　　I　think　I　vaguely　supposed　that　he　would　melt　into

thin　air；　and　indeed　began　gradually　to　doubt　of　his　existence；　and

to　regard　him　as　one　of　the　foolish　things　one　ceased　to　believe　in

as　one　grew　older。　　It　seemed　natural　that　I　should　have　no　more　news

of　him。　　Our　present　meeting　was　my　first　assurance　that　he　had

really　survived　all　that　muffling　and　coddling。



I　observed　him　now　with　a　good　deal　of　interest；　for　he　was　a　rare

phenomenonthe　fruit　of　a　system　persistently　and　uninterruptedly

applied。　　He　struck　me；　in　a　fashion；　as　certain　young　monks　I　had

seen　in　Italy；　he　had　the　same　candid；　unsophisticated　cloister　face。

His　education　had　been　really　almost　monastic。　　It　had　found　him

evidently　a　very　compliant；　yielding　subject；　his　gentle　affectionate

spirit　was　not　one　of　those　that　need　to　be　broken。　　It　had

bequeathed　him；　now　that　he　stood　on　the　threshold　of　the　great

world；　an　extraordinary　freshness　of　impression　and　alertness　of

desire；　and　I　confess　that；　as　I　looked　at　him　and　met　his

transparent　blue　eye；　I　trembled　for　the　unwarned　innocence　of　such　a

soul。　　I　became　aware；　gradually；　that　the　world　had　already　wrought

a　certain　work　upon　him　and　roused　him　to　a　restless；　troubled　self…

consciousness。　　Everything　about　him　pointed　to　an　experience　from

which　he　had　been　debarred；　his　whole　organism　trembled　with　a

dawning　sense　of　unsuspected　possibilities　of　feeling。　　This

appealing　tremor　was　indeed　outwardly　visible。　　He　kept　shifting

himself　about　on　the　grass；　thrusting　his　hands　through　his　hair；

wiping　a　light　perspiration　from　his　forehead；　breaking　out　to　say

something　and　rushing　off　to　something　else。　　Our　sudden　meeting　had

greatly　excited　him；　and　I　saw　that　I　was　likely　to　profit　by　a

certain　overflow　of　sentimental　fermentation。　　I　could　do　so　with　a

good　conscience；　for　all　this　trepidation　filled　me　with　a　great

friendliness。



〃It's　nearly　fifteen　years；　as　you　say；〃　he　began；　〃since　you　used　to

call　me　'butter…fingers'　for　always　missing　the　ball。　　That's　a　long

time　to　give　an　account　of；　and　yet　they　have　been；　for　me；　such

eventless；　monotonous　years；　that　I　could　almost　tell　their　history

in　ten　words。　　You；　I　suppose；　have　had　all　kinds　of　adventures　and

travelled　over　half　the　world。　　I　remember　you　had　a　turn　for　deeds

of　daring；　I　used　to　think　you　a　little　Captain　Cook　in　roundabouts；

for　climbing　the　garden　fence　to　get　the　ball　when　I　had　let　it　fly

over。　　I　climbed　no　fences　then　or　since。　　You　remember　my　father；　I

suppose；　and　the　great　care　he　took　of　me？　　I　lost　him　some　five

months　ago。　　From　those　boyish　days　up　to　his　death　we　were　always

together。　　I　don't　think　that　in　fifteen　years　we　spent　half　a　dozen

hours　apart。　　We　lived　in　the　country；　winter　and　summer；　seeing　but

three　or　four　people。　　I　had　a　succession　of　tutors；　and　a　library　to

browse　about　in；　I　assure　you　I　am　a　tremendous　scholar。　　It　was　a

dull　life　for　a　growing　boy；　and　a　duller　life　for　a　young　man　grown；

but　I　never　knew　it。　　I　was　perfectly　happy。〃　　He　spoke　of　his　father

at　some　length；　and　with　a　respect　which　I　privately　declined　to

emulate。　　Mr。　Pickering　had　been；　to　my　sense；　a　frigid　egotist；

unable　to　conceive　of　any　larger　vocation　for　his　son　than　to　strive

to　reproduce　so　irreproachable　a　model。　　〃I　know　I　have　been

strangely　brought　up；〃　said　my　friend；　〃and　that　the　result　is

something　grotesque；　but　my　education；　piece　by　piece；　in　detail；

became　one　of　my　father's　personal　habits；　as　it　were。　　He　took　a

fancy　to　it　at　first　through　his　intense　affection　for　my　mother　and

the　sort　of　worship　he　paid　her　memory。　　She　died　at　my　birth；　and　as

I　grew　up；　it　seems　that　I　bore　an　extraordinary　likeness　to　her。

Besides；　my　father　had　a　great　many　theories；　he　prided　himself　on

his　conservative　opinions；　he　thought　the　usual　American　laisser…

aller　in　education　was　a　very　vulgar　practice；　and　that　children　were

not　to　grow　up　like　dusty　thorns　by　the　wayside。　　〃So　you　see；〃

Pickering　went　on；　smiling　and　blushing；　and　yet　with　something　of

the　irony　of　vain　regret；　〃I　am　a　regular　garden　plant。　　I　have　been

watched　and　watered　and　pruned；　and　if　there　is　any　virtue　in　tending

I　ought　to　take　the　prize　at　a　flower　show。　　Some　three　years　ago　my

father's　health　broke　down；　and　he　was　kept　very　much　within　doors。

So；　although　I　was　a　man　grown；　I　lived　altogether　at　home。　　If　I　was

out　of　his　sight　for　a　quarter　of　an　hour　he　sent　some　one　after　me。

He　had　severe　attacks　of　neuralgia；　and　he　used　to　sit　at　his　window；

basking　in　the　sun。　　He　kept　an　opera…glass　at　hand；　and　when　I　was

out　in　the　garden　he　used　to　watch　me　with　it。　　A　few　days　before　his

death　I　was　twenty…seven　years　old；　and　the　most　innocent　youth；　I

suppose；　on　the　continent。　　After　he　died　I　missed　him　greatly；〃

Pickering　continued；　evidently　with　no　intention　of　making　an

epigram。　　〃I　stayed　at　home；　in　a　sort　of　dull　stupor。　　It　seemed　as

if　life　offered　itself　to　me　for　the　first　time；　and　yet　as　if　I

didn't　know　how　to　take　hold　of　it。〃



He　uttered　all　this　with　a　frank　eagerness　which　increased　as　he

talked；　and　there　was　a　singular　contrast　between　the　meagre

experience　he　described　and　a　certain　radiant　intelligence　which　I

seemed　to　perceive　in　his　glance　and　tone。　　Evidently　he　was　a　clever

fellow；　and　his　natural　faculties　were　excellent。　　I　imagined　he　had

read　a　great　deal；　and　recovered；　in　some　degree；　in　restless

intellectual　conjecture；　the　freedom　he　was　condemned　to　ignore　in

practice。　　Opportunity　was　now　offering　a　meaning　to　the　empty　forms

with　which　his　imagination　was　stored；　but　it　appeared　to　him　dimly；

through　the　veil　of　his　personal　diffidence。



〃I　have　not　sailed　round　the　world；　as　you　suppose；〃　I　said；　〃but　I

confess