manalive-第6章

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simply　meant　a　kind…hearted　man；　which　is　a　very　different　thing。
She　would　sit　at　the　head　of　the　table　with　fat；　folded　hands　and　a　fat；
folded　smile　for　hours　and　hours；　while　every　one　else　was　talking　at　once。
At　least；　the　only　other　exception　was　Rosamund's　companion；
Mary　Gray；　whose　silence　was　of　a　much　more　eager　sort。　　Though　she
never　spoke　she　always　looked　as　if　she　might　speak　any　minute。
Perhaps　this　is　the　very　definition　of　a　companion。　　Innocent　Smith
seemed　to　throw　himself；　as　into　other　adventures；　into　the　adventure
of　making　her　talk。　　He　never　succeeded；　yet　he　was　never　snubbed；
if　he　achieved　anything；　it　was　only　to　draw　attention　to　this　quiet　figure；
and　to　turn　her；　by　ever　so　little；　from　a　modesty　to　a　mystery。
But　if　she　was　a　riddle；　every　one　recognized　that　she　was　a　fresh
and　unspoilt　riddle；　like　the　riddle　of　the　sky　and　the　woods　in　spring。
Indeed；　though　she　was　rather　older　than　the　other　two　girls；
she　had　an　early　morning　ardour；　a　fresh　earnestness　of　youth；
which　Rosamund　seemed　to　have　lost　in　the　mere　spending　of　money；
and　Diana　in　the　mere　guarding　of　it。　　Smith　looked　at　her　again　and　again。
Her　eyes　and　mouth　were　set　in　her　face　the　wrong　waywhich　was　really
the　right　way。　　She　had　the　knack　of　saying　everything　with　her　face：
her　silence　was　a　sort　of　steady　applause。

But　among　the　hilarious　experiments　of　that　holiday
（which　seemed　more　like　a　week's　holiday　than　a　day's）
one　experiment　towers　supreme；　not　because　it　was　any　sillier
or　more　successful　than　the　others；　but　because　out　of　this
particular　folly　flowed　all　of　the　odd　events　that　were　to　follow。
All　the　other　practical　jokes　exploded　of　themselves；　and　left　vacancy；
all　the　other　fictions　returned　upon　themselves；　and　were　finished
like　a　song。　　But　the　string　of　solid　and　startling　events
which　were　to　include　a　hansom　cab；　a　detective；　a　pistol；
and　a　marriage　licencewere　all　made　primarily　possible
by　the　joke　about　the　High　Court　of　Beacon。

It　had　originated；　not　with　Innocent　Smith；　but　with　Michael　Moon。　　He　was
in　a　strange　glow　and　pressure　of　spirits；　and　talked　incessantly；
yet　he　had　never　been　more　sarcastic；　and　even　inhuman。
He　used　his　old　useless　knowledge　as　a　barrister　to　talk
entertainingly　of　a　tribunal　that　was　a　parody　on　the　pompous
anomalies　of　English　law。　　The　High　Court　of　Beacon；　he　declared；
was　a　splendid　example　of　our　free　and　sensible　constitution。
It　had　been　founded　by　King　John　in　defiance　of　the　Magna　Carta；
and　now　held　absolute　power　over　windmills；　wine　and　spirit　licences；
ladies　traveling　in　Turkey；　revision　of　sentences　for　dog…stealing
and　parricide；　as　well　as　anything　whatever　that　happened　in　the　town　of
Market　Bosworth。　　The　whole　hundred　and　nine　seneschals　of　the　High　Court
of　Beacon　met　once　in　every　four　centuries；　but　in　the　intervals
（as　Mr。　Moon　explained）　the　whole　powers　of　the　institution　were　vested
in　Mrs。　Duke。　　Tossed　about　among　the　rest　of　the　company；　however；
the　High　Court　did　not　retain　its　historical　and　legal　seriousness；
but　was　used　somewhat　unscrupulously　in　a　riot　of　domestic　detail。
If　somebody　spilt　the　Worcester　Sauce　on　the　tablecloth；　he　was　quite
sure　it　was　a　rite　without　which　the　sittings　and　findings　of　the　Court
would　be　invalid；　or　if　somebody　wanted　a　window　to　remain　shut；
he　would　suddenly　remember　that　none　but　the　third　son　of　the　lord
of　the　manor　of　Penge　had　the　right　to　open　it。　　They　even　went
to　the　length　of　making　arrests　and　conducting　criminal　inquiries。
The　proposed　trial　of　Moses　Gould　for　patriotism　was　rather
above　the　heads　of　the　company；　especially　of　the　criminal；
but　the　trial　of　Inglewood　on　a　charge　of　photographic　libel；
and　his　triumphant　acquittal　upon　a　plea　of　insanity；　were　admitted
to　be　in　the　best　tradition　of　the　Court。

But　when　Smith　was　in　wild　spirits　he　grew　more　and　more　serious；　not　more　and
more　flippant　like　Michael　Moon。　　This　proposal　of　a　private　court　of　justice；
which　Moon　had　thrown　off　with　the　detachment　of　a　political　humourist；
Smith　really　caught　hold　of　with　the　eagerness　of　an　abstract　philosopher。
It　was　by　far　the　best　thing　they　could　do；　he　declared；　to　claim　sovereign
powers　even　for　the　individual　household。

〃You　believe　in　Home　Rule　for　Ireland；　I　believe　in　Home　Rule　for　homes；〃
he　cried　eagerly　to　Michael。　　〃It　would　be　better　if　every　father
COULD　kill　his　son；　as　with　the　old　Romans；　it　would　be　better；
because　nobody　would　be　killed。　　Let's　issue　a　Declaration
of　Independence　from　Beacon　House。　　We　could　grow　enough　greens
in　that　garden　to　support　us；　and　when　the　tax…collector　comes　let's
tell　him　we're　self…supporting；　and　play　on　him　with　the　hose。
。。。Well；　perhaps；　as　you　say；　we　couldn't　very　well　have　a　hose；
as　that　comes　from　the　main；　but　we　could　sink　a　well　in　this　chalk；
and　a　lot　could　be　done　with　water…jugs。。。　Let　this　really　be
Beacon　House。　　Let's　light　a　bonfire　of　independence　on　the　roof；
and　see　house　after　house　answering　it　across　the　valley　of
the　Thames！　　Let　us　begin　the　League　of　the　Free　Families！　　Away　with
Local　Government！　　A　fig　for　Local　Patriotism！　　Let　every　house
be　a　sovereign　state　as　this　is；　and　judge　its　own　children　by　its
own　law；　as　we　do　by　the　Court　of　Beacon。　　Let　us　cut　the　painter；
and　begin　to　be　happy　together；　as　if　we　were　on　a　desert　island。〃

〃I　know　that　desert　island；〃　said　Michael　Moon；　〃it　only
exists　in　the　‘Swiss　Family　Robinson。'　　A　man　feels　a　strange
desire　for　some　sort　of　vegetable　milk；　and　crash　comes　down
some　unexpected　cocoa…nut　from　some　undiscovered　monkey。
A　literary　man　feels　inclined　to　pen　a　sonnet；　and　at　once
an　officious　porcupine　rushes　out　of　a　thicket　and　shoots　out
one　of　his　quills。〃

〃Don't　you　say　a　word　against　the　‘Swiss　Family　Robinson；'〃
cried　Innocent　with　great　warmth。　　〃It　mayn't　be
exact　science；　but　it's　dead　accurate　philosophy。
When　you're　really　shipwrecked；　you　do　really　find　what　you　want。
When　you're　really　on　a　desert　island；　you　never　find　it　a　desert。
If　we　were　really　besieged　in　this　garden；　we'd　find　a　hundred
English　birds　and　English　berries　that　we　never　knew　were　here。
If　we　were　snowed　up　in　this　room；　we'd　be　the　better　for　reading
scores　of　books　in　that　bookcase　that　we　don't　even　know　are　there；
we'd　have　talks　with　each　other；　good；　terrible　talks；　that　we　shall
go　to　the　grave　without　guessing；　we'd　find　materials　for　everything
christening；　marriage；　or　funeral；　yes；　even　for　a　coronation
if　we　didn't　decide　to　be　a　republic。〃

〃A　coronation　on　‘Swiss　Family'　lines；　I　suppose；〃　said　Michael；　laughing。
〃Oh；　I　know　you　would　find　everything　in　that　atmosphere。　　If　we　wanted
such　a　simple　thing；　for　instance；　as　a　Coronation　Canopy；　we　should
walk　down　beyond　the　geraniums　and　find　the　Canopy　Tree　in　full　bloom。
If　we　wanted　such　a　trifle　as　a　crown　of　gold；　why；　we　should　be
digging　up　dandelions；　and　we　should　find　a　gold　mine　under　the　lawn。
And　when　we　wanted　oil　for　the　ceremony；　why　I　suppose　a　great　storm
would　wash　everything　on　shore；　and　we　should　find　there　was　a　Whale
on　the　premises。〃

〃And　so　there　IS　a　whale　on　the　premises　for　all　you　know；〃
asseverated　Smith；　striking　the　table　with　passion。
〃I　bet　you've　never　examined　the　premises！　　I　bet　you've
never　been　round　at　the　back　as　I　was　this　morning
for　I　found　the　very　thing　you　say　could　only　grow　on　a　tree。
There's　an　old　sort　of　square　tent　up　against　the　dustbin；
it's　got　three　holes　in　the　canvas；　and　a　pole's　broken；
so　it's　not　much　good　as　a　tent；　but　as　a　Canopy〃　And　his
voice　quite　failed　him　to　express　its　shining　adequacy；
then　he　went　on　with　controversial　eagerness：　　〃You　see　I
take　every　challenge　as　you　make　it。　　I　believe　every　blessed
thing　you　say　couldn't　be　here　has　been　here　all　the　time。
You　say　you　want　a　whale　washed　up　for　oil。　　Why；　there's　oil
in　that　cruet…stand　at　your　elbow；　and　I　don't　believe
anybody　has　touched　it　or　thought　of　it　for　years。
And　as　for　your　gold　crown；　we're　none　of　us　wealthy　here；
but　we　could　collect　enough　ten…shilling　bits　from　our　own
pockets　to　string　round　a　man's　head　for　half　an　hour；
or　one　of　Miss　Hunt's　gold　bangles　is　nearly　big　enough　to〃

The　good…humoured　Rosamund　was　almost　choking　with　laughter。
〃All　is　not　gold　that　glitters；〃　she　said；　〃and　besides〃

〃What　a　mistake　that　is！〃　cried　Innocent　Smith；
leaping　up　in　great　excitement。　　〃All　is　gold　that　glitters
especially　now　we　are　a　Sovereign　State。　　What's　the　good
of　a　Sovereign　State　if　you　can't　define　a　sovereign？
We　can　make　anything　a　precious　metal；　as　men　could　in　the　morning
of　the　world。　　They　didn't　choose　gold　because　it　was　rare；
your　scientists　can　tell　you　twenty　sorts　of　slime　much　rarer。
They　chose　gold　because　it　was　brightbecause　it　was
a　hard　thing　to　find；　but　pretty　when　you've　found　it。
You　can't　fight　with　golden　swords　or　eat　golden　biscuits；
you　can　only　look　at　itan　you　can　look　at　it　out　here。〃

With　one　of　his　incalculable　motions　he　sprang　back　and　burst　open
the　doors　into　the　garden。　　At　the　same　time　also；　with　one　of　his
gestures　that　never　seemed　at　the　instant　so　unconventional　as　they　were；
he　stretched　out　his　hand　to　Mary　Gray；　and　led　her　out　on　to　the　lawn
as　if　for　a　dance。

The　French　windows；　thus　flung　open；　let　in　an　evening　even　lovelier　than　that
of　the　day　before。　　The　west　was　swimming　with　sanguine　colours；　and　a　sort
of　sleepy　flame　lay　along　the　lawn。　　The　twisted　shadows　of　the　one　or　two
garden　trees　showed　upon　this　sheen；　not　gray　or　black；　as　in　common　daylight；
but　like　arabesques　written　in　vivid　violet　ink　on　some　page　of　Eastern　gold。
The　sunset　was　one　of　those　festive　and　yet　mysterious　conflagrations　in
which　common　things　by　their　colours　remind　us　of　costly　or　curious　things。
The　slates　upon　the　sloping　roof　burned　like　the　plumes　of　a　vast　peacock；
in　every　mysterious　blend　of　blue　and　green。　　The　red…brown　bricks　of
the　wall　glowed　with　all　the　October　tints　of　strong　ruby　and　tawny　wines。
The　sun　seemed　to　set　each　object　alight　with　a　different　coloured　flame；
like　a　man　lighting　fireworks；　and　even　Innocent's　hair；　which　was　of　a　rather
colourless　fairness；　seemed　to　have　a　flame　of　pagan　gold　on　it　as　he　strode
across　the　lawn　towards　the　one　tall　ridge　of　rockery。

〃What　would　be　the　good　of　gold；〃　he　was　saying；　〃if　it　did　not　glitter？
Why　should　we　care　for　a　black　sovereign　any　more　than　for　a
black　sun　at　noon？　　A　black　button　would　do　just　as　well。
Don't　you　see　that　everything　in　this　garden　looks　like　a　jewel？
And　will　you　kindly　tell　me　what　the　deuce　is　the　good　of　a　jewel
except　that　it　looks　like　a　jewel？　　Leave　off　buying　and　selling；
and　start　looking！　　Open　your　eyes；　and　you'll　wake　up　in
the　New　Jerusalem。

　　　　　　　　〃All　is　gold　that　glitters
　　　　　　　　　　　Tree　and　tower　of　brass；
　　　　　　　　　Rolls　the　golden　evening　air
　　　　　　　　　　　Down　the　golden　grass。
　　　　　　　　　Kick　the　cry　to　Jericho；
　　　　　　　　　　　How　yellow　mud　is　sold；
　　　　　　　　　All　is　gold　that　glitters；
　　　　　　　　　　　For　the　glitter　is　the　gold。〃


〃And　who　wrote　that？〃　asked　Rosamund；　amused。

〃No　one　will　ever　write　it；〃　answered　Smith；　and　clear