the professor(教授)-第6章
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sustained by other hands than mine。 I turned away tantalized； left
the dancers； and wandered into the oak…panelled dining…room。 No
fibre of sympathy united me to any living thing in this house； I
looked for and found my mother’s picture。 I took a wax taper from
a stand； and held it up。 I gazed long； earnestly； my heart grew to
the image。 My mother； I perceived； had bequeathed to me much of
her features and countenance—her forehead； her eyes； her
complexion。 No regular beauty pleases egotistical human beings
so much as a softened and refined likeness of themselves； for this
reason； fathers regard with complacency the lineaments of their
daughters’ faces； where frequently their own similitude is found
flatteringly associated with softness of hue and delicacy of outline。
I was just wondering how that picture； to me so interesting； would
strike an impartial spectator； when a voice close behind me
pronounced the words—
“Humph！ there’s some sense in that face。”
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I turned； at my elbow stood a tall man； young； though probably
five or six years older than I—in other respects of an appearance
the opposite to common place； though just now； as I am not
disposed to paint his portrait in detail； the reader must be content
with the silhouette I have just thrown off； it was all I myself saw of
him for the moment： I did not investigate the colour of his
eyebrows； nor of his eyes either； I saw his stature； and the outline
of his shape； I saw； too； his fastidious…looking retroussé nose； these
observations； few in number； and general in character （the last
excepted）； sufficed； for they enabled me to recognize him。
“Good evening； Mr。 Hunsden；” muttered I with a bow； and
then； like a shy noodle as I was； I began moving away—and why？
Simply because Mr。 Hunsden was a manufacturer and a
millowner； and I was only a clerk； and my instinct propelled me
from my superior。 I had frequently seen Hunsden in Bigben Close；
where he came almost weekly to transact business with Mr。
Crimsworth； but I had never spoken to him； nor he to me； and I
owed him a sort of involuntary grudge； because he had more than
once been the tacit witness of insults offered by Edward to me。 I
had the conviction that he could only regard me as a poor…spirited
slave； wherefore I now went about to shun his presence and
eschew his conversation。
“Where are you going？” asked he； as I edged off sideways。 I had
already noticed that Mr。 Hunsden indulged in abrupt forms of
speech； and I perversely said to myself—
“He thinks he may speak as he likes to a poor clerk； but my
mood is not； perhaps； so supple as he deems it； and his rough
freedom pleases me not at all。”
I made some slight reply； rather indifferent than courteous； and
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continued to move away。 He coolly planted himself in my path。
“Stay here awhile；” said he： “it is so hot in the dancing…room；
besides； you don’t dance； you have not had a partner to…night。”
He was right； and as he spoke neither his look； tone； nor
manner displeased me； my amour…propre was propitiated； he had
not addressed me out of condescension； but because； having
repaired to the cool dining…room for refreshment； he now wanted
some one to talk to； by way of temporary amusement。 I hate to be
condescended to； but I like well enough to oblige； I stayed。
“That is a good picture；” he continued； recurring to the portrait。
“Do you consider the face pretty？” I asked。
“Pretty！ no—how can it be pretty； with sunk eyes and hollow
cheeks？ but it is peculiar； it seems to think。 You could have a talk
with that woman； if she were alive； on other subjects than dress；
visiting； and compliments。”
I agreed with him； but did not say so。 He went on。
“Not that I admire a head of that sort； it wants character and
force； there’s too much of the sen…si…tive （so he articulated it；
curling his lip at the same time） in that mouth； besides； there is
Aristocrat written on the brow and defined in the figure； I hate
your aristocrats。”
“You think； then； Mr。 Hunsden； that patrician descent may be
read in a distinctive cast of form and features？”
“Patrician descent be hanged！ Who doubts that your lordlings
may have their ‘distinctive cast of form and features’ as much as
we —shire tradesmen have ours？ But which is the best？ Not theirs
assuredly。 As to their women； it is a little different： they cultivate
beauty from childhood upwards； and may by care and training
attain to a certain degree of excellence in that point； just like the
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oriental odalisques。 Yet even this superiority is doubtful。 Compare
the figure in that frame with Mrs。 Edward Crimsworth—which is
the finer animal？”
I replied quietly： “Compare yourself and Mr。 Edward
Crimsworth； Mr Hunsden。”
“Oh； Crimsworth is better filled up than I am； I know besides he
has a straight nose； arched eyebrows； and all that； but these
advantages—if they are advantages—he did not inherit from his
mother； the patrician； but from his father； old Crimsworth； who；
my father says； was as veritable a —shire blue…dyer as ever put
indigo in a vat yet withal the handsomest man in the three
Ridings。 It is you； William； who are the aristocrat of your family；
and you are not as fine a fellow as your plebeian brother by long
chalk。”
There was something in Mr。 Hunsden’s point…blank mode of
speech which rather pleased me than otherwise because it set me
at my ease。 I continued the conversation with a degree of interest。
“How do you happen to know that I am Mr。 Crimsworth’s
brother？ I thought you and everybody else looked upon me only in
the light of a poor clerk。”
“Well； and so we do； and what are you but a poor clerk？ You do
Crimsworth’s work； and he gives you wages—shabby wages they
are； too。”
I was silent。 Hunsden’s language now bordered on the
impertinent； still his manner did not offend me in the least—it
only piqued my curiosity； I wanted him to go on； which he did in a
little while。
“This world is an absurd one；” said he。
“Why so； Mr。 Hunsden？”
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I wonder you should ask： you are yourself a strong proof of the
absurdity I allude to。”
I was determined he should explain himself of his own accord；
without my pressing him so to do—so I resumed my silence。
“Is it your intention to become a tradesman？” he inquired
presently。
“It was my serious intention three months ago。”
“Humph！ the more fool you—you look like a tradesman！ What a
practical business…like face you have！”
“My face is as the Lord made it； Mr。 Hunsden。”
“The Lord never made either your face or head for X—。 What
good can your bumps of ideality； comparison； self…esteem；
conscientiousness； do you here？ But if you like Bigben Close； stay
there； it’s your own affair； not mine。”
“Perhaps I have no choice。”
“Well； I care nought about it—it will make little difference to
me what you do or where you go； but I’m cool now—I want to
dance again； and I see such a fine girl sitting in the corner of the
sofa there by her mamma； see if I don’t get her for a partner in a
jiffy！ There’s Waddy—Sam Waddy making up to her； won’t I cut
him out？”
And Mr。 Hunsden strode away。 I watched him through the open
folding…doors； he outstripped Waddy； applied for the hand of the
fine girl； and led her off triumphant。 She was a tall； well…made；
full…formed； dashingly…dressed young woman； much in the style of
Mrs。 E。 Crimsworth； Hunsden whirled her through the waltz with
spirit； he kept at her side during the remainder of the evening； and
I read in her animated and gratified countenance that he
succeeded in making himself perfectly agreeable。 The mamma too
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（a stout person in a turban—Mrs。 Lupton by name） looked well
pleased； prophetic visions probably flattered her inward eye。 The
Hunsdens were of an old stem； and scornful as Yorke （such was
my late interlocutor’s name） professed to be of the advantages of
birth； in his secret heart he well knew and fully appreciated the
distinction his ancient； if not high lineage conferred on him in a
mushroom…place like X—； concerning whose inhabitants it was
proverbially said； that not one in a thousand knew his own
grandfather。 Moreover the Hunsdens； once rich； were still
independent； and report affirmed that Yorke bade fair； by his
success in business； to restore to pristine prosperity the partially
decayed fortunes of his house。 These circumstances considered；
Mrs。 Lupton’s broad face might well wear a smile of complacency
as she contemplated the
