fraternity-第21章

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Stephen　took　time　to　answer。　　〃That's　rather　far…fetched；〃　he　said。　〃You　mean　these　Hughs　and　people　are　the　droppings？〃

〃Quite　so；〃　was　Hilary's　sardonic　answer。　　〃There's　the　body　of　that　fellow　and　his　car　between　our　sort　and　themand　no　getting　over　it；　Stevie。〃

〃Well；　who　wants　to？　　If　you're　thinking　of　our　old　friend's　Fraternity；　I'm　not　taking　any。〃　　And　Stephen　suddenly　added：　〃Look　here；　I　believe　this　affair　is　all　'a　plant。'〃

〃You　see　that　Powder　Magazine？〃　　said　Hilary。　　〃Well；　this　business　that　you　call　a　'plant'　is　more　like　that。　　I　don't　want　to　alarm　you；　but　I　think　you　as　well　as　our　young　friend　Martin；　are　inclined　to　underrate　the　emotional　capacity　of　human　nature。〃

Disquietude　broke　up　the　customary　mask　on　Stephen's　face：　〃I　don't　understand；〃　he　stammered。

〃Well；　we're　none　of　us　machines；　not　even　amateurs　like　menot　even　under…dogs　like　Hughs。　　I　fancy　you　may　find　a　certain　warmth；　not　to　say　violence；　about　this　business。　　I　tell　you　frankly　that　I　don't　live　in　married　celibacy　quite　with　impunity。　　I　can't　answer　for　anything；　in　fact。　　You　had　better　stand　clear；　Stephenthat's　all。〃

Stephen　marked　his　thin　hands　quivering；　and　this　alarmed　him　as　nothing　else　had　done。

They　walked　on　beside　the　water。　　Stephen　spoke　quietly；　looking　at　the　ground。　　〃How　can　I　stand　clear；　old　man；　if　you　are　going　to　get　into　a　mess？　　That's　impossible。〃

He　saw　at　once　that　this　shot；　which　indeed　was　from　his　heart；　had　gone　right　home　to　Hilary's。　　He　sought　within　him　how　to　deepen　the　impression。

〃You　mean　a　lot　to　us；〃　he　said。　　〃Cis　and　Thyme　would　feel　it　awfully　if　you　and　B。…〃　　He　stopped。

Hilary　was　looking　at　him；　that　faintly　smiling　glance；　searching　him　through　and　through；　suddenly　made　Stephen　feel　inferior。　　He　had　been　detected　trying　to　extract　capital　from　the　effect　of　his　little　piece　of　brotherly　love。　　He　was　irritated　at　his　brother's　insight。

〃I　have　no　right　to　give　advice；　I　suppose；〃　he　said；　〃but　in　my　opinion　you　should　drop　itdrop　it　dead。　　The　girl　is　not　worth　your　looking　after。　　Turn　her　over　to　that　SocietyMrs。　Tallents　Smallpeace's　thing　whatever　it's　called。〃

At　a　sound　as　of　mirth　Stephen；　who　was　not　accustomed　to　hear　his　brother　laugh；　looked　round。

〃Martin；〃　said　Hilary；　〃also　wants　the　case　to　be　treated　on　strictly　hygienic　grounds。〃

Nettled　by　this；　Stephen　answered：

〃Don't　confound　me　with　our　young　Sanitist；　please；　I　simply　think　there　are　probably　a　hundred　things　you　don't　know　about　the　girl　which　ought　to　be　cleared　up。〃

〃And　then？〃

〃Then；〃　said　Stephen；　〃they　coulderdeal　with　her　accordingly。〃

Hilary　shrank　so　palpably　at　this　remark　that　he　added　rather　hastily：

〃You　call　that　cold…blooded；　I　suppose；　but　I　think；　you　know；　old　chap；　that　you're　too　sensitive。〃

Hilary　stopped　rather　abruptly。

〃If　you　don't　mind；　Stevie；〃　he　said；　〃we'll　part　here。　　I　want　to　think　it　over。〃　　So　saying；　he　turned　back；　and　sat　down　on　a　seat　that　faced　the　sun。




CHAPTER　XVIII

THE　PERFECT　DOG

Hilary　sat　long　in　the　sun；　watching　the　pale　bright　waters　and　many　well…bred　ducks　circling　about　the　shrubs；　searching　with　their　round；　bright　eyes　for　worms。　　Between　the　bench　where　he　was　sitting　and　the　spiked　iron　railings　people　passed　continuallymen；　women；　children　of　all　kinds。　　Every　now　and　then　a　duck　would　stop　and　cast　her　knowing　glance　at　these　creatures；　as　though　comparing　the　condition　of　their　forms　and　plumage　with　her　own。　　'If　I　had　had　the　breeding　of　you；'　she　seemed　to　say；　'I　could　have　made　a　better　fist　of　it　than　that。　　A　worse…looking　lot　of　ducks；　take　you　all　round。　I　never　wish　to　see！'　And　with　a　quick　but　heavy　movement　of　her　shoulders；　she　would　turn　away　and　join　her　fellows。

Hilary；　however；　got　small　distraction　from　the　ducks。　　The　situation　gradually　developing　was　something　of　a　dilemma　to　a　man　better　acquainted　with　ideas　than　facts；　with　the　trimming　of　words　than　with　the　shaping　of　events。　　He　turned　a　queer；　perplexed；　almost　quizzical　eye　on　it。　　Stephen　had　irritated　him　profoundly。　　He　had　such　a　way　of　pettifying　things！　　Yet；　in　truth；　the　affair　would　seem　ridiculous　enough　to　an　ordinary　observer。　　What　would　a　man　of　sound　common　sense；　like　Mr。　Purcey；　think　of　it？　　Why　not；　as　Stephen　had　suggested；　drop　it？　　Here；　however；　Hilary　approached　the　marshy　ground　of　feeling。

To　give　up　befriending　a　helpless　girl　the　moment　he　found　himself　personally　menaced　was　exceedingly　distasteful。　　But　would　she　be　friendless？　　Were　there　not；　in　Stephen's　words；　a　hundred　things　he　did　not　know　about　her？　　Had　she　not　other　resources？　　Had　she　not　a　story？　　But　here；　too；　he　was　hampered　by　his　delicacy：　one　did　not　pry　into　the　private　lives　of　others！

The　matter；　too；　was　hopelessly　complicated　by　the　domestic　troubles　of　the　Hughs　family。　　No　conscientious　manand　whatever　Hilary　lacked；　no　one　ever　accused　him　of　a　lack　of　consciencecould　put　aside　that　aspect　of　the　case。

Wandering　among　these　reflections　were　his　thoughts　about　Bianca。　She　was　his　wife。　　However　he　might　feel　towards　her　now；　whatever　their　relations；　he　must　not　put　her　in　a　false　position。　　Far　from　wishing　to　hurt　her；　he　desired　to　preserve　her；　and　everyone；　from　trouble　and　annoyance。　　He　had　told　Stephen　that　his　interest　in　the　girl　was　purely　protective。　　But　since　the　night　when；　leaning　out　into　the　moonlight；　he　heard　the　waggons　coming　in　to　Covent　Garden　Market；　a　strange　feeling　had　possessed　himthe　sensation　of　a　man　who　lies；　with　a　touch　of　fever　on　him；　listening　to　the　thrum　of　distant　musicsensuous；　not　unpleasurable。

Those　who　saw　him　sitting　there　so　quietly；　with　his　face　resting　on　his　hand；　imagined；　no　doubt；　that　he　was　wrestling　with　some　deep；　abstract　proposition；　some　great　thought　to　be　given　to　mankind；　for　there　was　that　about　Hilary　which　forced　everyone　to　connect　him　instantly　with　the　humaner　arts。

The　sun　began　to　leave　the　long　pale　waters。

A　nursemaid　and　two　children　came　and　sat　down　beside　him。　　Then　it　was　that；　underneath　his　seat；　Miranda　found　what　she　had　been　looking　for　all　her　life。　　It　had　no　smell；　made　no　movement；　was　pale…grey　in　colour；　like　herself。　　It　had　no　hair　that　she　could　find；　its　tail　was　like　her　own；　it　took　no　liberties；　was　silent；　had　no　passions；　committed　her　to　nothing。　　Standing　a　few　inches　from　its　head；　closer　than　she　had　ever　been　of　her　free　will　to　any　dog；　she　smelt　its　smellessness　with　a　long；　delicious　snuffling；　wrinkling　up　the　skin　on　her　forehead；　and　through　her　upturned　eyes　her　little　moonlight　soul　looked　forth。　　'How　unlike　you　are；'　she　seemed　to　say；　'to　all　the　other　dogs　I　know！　　I　would　love　to　live　with　you。　　Shall　I　ever　find　a　dog　like　you　again？　　〃The　latest…　sterilised　clothsee　white　label　underneath：　4s。　3d。！〃'　　Suddenly　she　slithered　out　her　slender　grey…pink　tongue　and　licked　its　nose。　The　creature　moved　a　little　way　and　stopped。　　Miranda　saw　that　it　had　wheels。　　She　lay　down　close　to　it；　for　she　knew　it　was　the　perfect　dog。

Hilary　watched　the　little　moonlight　lady　lying　vigilant；　affectionate；　beside　this　perfect　dog；　who　could　not　hurt　her。　　She　panted　slightly；　and　her　tongue　showed　between　her　lips。　Presently　behind　his　seat　he　saw　another　idyll。　　A　thin　white　spaniel　had　come　running　up。　　She　lay　down　in　the　grass　quite　close；　and　three　other　dogs　who　followed；　sat　and　looked　at　her。　　A　poor；　dirty　little　thing　she　was；　who　seemed　as　if　she　had　not　seen　a　home　for　days。　　Her　tongue　lolled　out；　she　panted　piteously；　and　had　no　collar。　　Every　now　and　then　she　turned　her　eyes；　but　though　they　were　so　tired　and　desperate；　there　was　a　gleam　in　them。　　'For　all　its　thirst　and　hunger　and　exhaustion；　this　is　life！'　they　seemed　to　say。　The　three　dogs；　panting　too；　and　watching　till　it　should　be　her　pleasure　to　begin　to　run　again；　seemed　with　their　moist；　loving　eyes　to　echo：　'This　is　life！'

Because　of　this　idyll；　people　near　were　moving　on。

And　suddenly　the　thin　white　spaniel　rose；　and；　like　a　little　harried　ghost；　slipped　on　amongst　the　trees；　and　the　three　dogs　followed　her。




CHAPTER　XIX

BIANCA

In　her　studio　that　afternoon　Blanca　stood　before　her　picture　of　the　little　modelthe　figure　with　parted　pale…red　lips　and　haunting；　pale…blue　eyes；　gazing　out　of　shadow　into　lamplight。

She　was　frowning；　as　though　resentful　of　a　piece　of　work　which　had　the　power　to　kill　her　other　pictures。　　What　force　had　moved　her　to　paint　like　that？　　What　had　she　felt　while　the　girl　was　standing　before　her；　still　as　some　pale　flower　placed　in　a　cup　of　water？　　Not　lovethere　was　no　love　in　the　presentment　of　that　twilight　figure；　not　hatethere　was　no　hate　in　the　painting　of　her　dim　appeal。　　Yet　in　the　picture　of　this　shadow　girl；　between　the　gloom　and　glimmer；　was　visible　a　spirit；　driving　the　artist　on　to　create　that　which　had　the　power　to　haunt　the　mind。

Blanca　turned　away　and　went　up　to　a　portrait　of　her　husband；　painted　ten　years　before。　　She　looked　from　one　picture　to　the　other；　with　eyes　as　hard　and　stabbing　as　the　points　of　daggers。

In　the　more　poignant　relationships　of　human　life　there　is　a　point　beyond　which　men　and　women　do　not　quite　truthfully　analyse　their　feelingsthey　feel　too　much。　　It　was　Blanca's　fortune；　too；　to　be　endowed　to　excess　with　that　quality　which；　of　all　others；　most　obscures　the　real　significance　of　human　issues。　　Her　pride　had　kept　her　back　from　Hilary；　till　she　had　felt　herself　a　failure。　　Her　pride　had　so　revolted　at　that　failure　that　she　had　led　the　way　to　utter　estrangement。　　Her　pride　had　forced　her　to　the　attitude　of　one　who　says　〃Live　your　own　life；　I　should　be　ashamed　to　let　you　see　that　I　care　what　happens　between　us。〃　　Her　pride　had　concealed　from　her　the　fact　that　beneath　her　veil　of　mocking　liberality　there　was　an　essential　woman　tenacious　of　her　dues；　avid　of　affection　and　esteem。　Her　pride　prevented　the　world　from　guessing　that　there　was　anything　amiss。　　Her　pride　even　prevented　Hilary　from　really　knowing　what　had　spoiled　his　married　lifethis　ungovernable　itch　to　be　appreciated；　governed　by　ungovernable　pride。　　Hundreds　of　times　he　had　been　baffled　by　the　hedge　round　that　disharmonic　nature。　　With　each　failure　something　had　shrivelled　in　him；　till　the　very　roots　of　his　affection　had　dried　up。　　She　had　worn　out　a　man　who；　to　judge　from　his　actions　and　appearance；　was　naturally　long…suffering　to　a　fault。　Beneath　all　manner　of　kindness　and　consideration　for　each　otherfor　their　good　taste；　at　all　events；　had　never　given　waythis　tragedy　of　a　woman；　who　wanted　to　be　loved；　slowly　killing　the　power　of　loving　her　in　the　man；　had　gone　on　year　after　year。　　It　had　ceased　to　be　tragedy；　as　far　as　Hilary　was　concerned；　the　nerve　of　his　love　for　her　was　quite　dead；　slowly　frozen　out　of　him。　　It　was　still　active　tragedy　with　Bianca；　the　nerve　of　whose　jealous　desire　for　his　appreciation　was　not　dead。　　Her　instinct；　too；　ironically　informed　her　that；　had　he　been　a　man　with　some　brutality；　a　man　who　had　set　himself　to　ride　and　master　her；　instead　of　one　too　delicate；　he　might　have　trampled　down　the　hedge。　　This　gave　her　a　secret　grudge　against　him；　a　feeling　that　it　was　not　she　who　was　to　blame。

Pride　was　Bianca's　fate；　her　flavour；　and　her　char