English
Asweenteredthebreakfast-saloon,theProfessorwassaying“—andhehadbreakfastbyhimself,early:sohebeggedyouwouldn’twaitforhim,myLady.
Thisway,myLady,”headded,“thisway!”
Andthen,with(asitseemedtome)mostsuperfluouspoliteness,heflungopenthedoorofmycompartment,andusheredin“—ayoungandlovelylady!”
Imutteredtomyselfwithsomebitterness.
“Andthisis,ofcourse,theopeningsceneofVol.I.SheistheHeroine.
AndIamoneofthosesubordinatecharactersthatonlyturnupwhenneededforthedevelopmentofherdestiny,andwhosefinalappearanceisoutsidethechurch,waitingtogreettheHappyPair!”
“Yes,myLady,changeatFayfield,”werethenextwordsIheard(ohthattooobsequiousGuard!),“nextstationbutone.”
Andthedoorclosed,andtheladysettleddownintohercorner,andthemonotonousthroboftheengine(makingonefeelasifthetrainweresomegiganticmonster,whoseverycirculationwecouldfeel)proclaimedthatwewereoncemorespeedingonourway.
“Theladyhadaperfectlyformednose,”Icaughtmyselfsayingtomyself,“hazeleyes,andlips—”andhereitoccurredtomethattosee,formyself,what“thelady”wasreallylike,wouldbemoresatisfactorythanmuchspeculation.
Ilookedroundcautiously,and—wasentirelydisappointedofmyhope.
Theveil,whichshroudedherwholeface,wastoothickformetoseemorethantheglitterofbrighteyesandthehazyoutlineofwhatmightbealovelyovalface,butmightalso,unfortunately,beanequallyunlovelyone.
Iclosedmyeyesagain,sayingtomyself“—couldn’thaveabetterchanceforanexperimentinTelepathy!
I’llthinkoutherface,andafterwardstesttheportraitwiththeoriginal.”
Atfirst,noresultatallcrownedmyefforts,thoughI‘dividedmyswiftmind,’nowhither,nowthither,inawaythatIfeltsurewouldhavemadeAEneasgreenwithenvy:butthedimly-seenovalremainedasprovokinglyblankasever—amereEllipse,asifinsomemathematicaldiagram,withouteventheFocithatmightbemadetododutyasanoseandamouth.
Gradually,however,theconvictioncameuponmethatIcould,byacertainconcentrationofthought,thinktheveilaway,andsogetaglimpseofthemysteriousface—astowhichthetwoquestions,“isshepretty?”and“issheplain?”
,stillhungsuspended,inmymind,inbeautifulequipoise.
Successwaspartial—andfitful—stilltherewasaresult:everandanon,theveilseemedtovanish,inasuddenflashoflight:but,beforeIcouldfullyrealizetheface,allwasdarkagain.
Ineachsuchglimpse,thefaceseemedtogrowmorechildishandmoreinnocent:and,whenIhadatlastthoughttheveilentirelyaway,itwas,unmistakably,thesweetfaceoflittleSylvie!
“So,eitherI’vebeendreamingaboutSylvie,”Isaidtomyself,“andthisisthereality.OrelseI’vereallybeenwithSylvie,andthisisadream!IsLifeitselfadream,Iwonder?”
Tooccupythetime,Igotouttheletter,whichhadcausedmetotakethissuddenrailway-journeyfrommyLondonhomedowntoastrangefishing-townontheNorthcoast,andreaditoveragain:-
“DEAROLDFRIEND,
“I’msureitwillbeasgreatapleasuretome,asitcanpossiblybetoyou,tomeetoncemoreaftersomanyyears:andofcourseIshallbereadytogiveyouallthebenefitofsuchmedicalskillasIhave:only,youknow,onemustn’tviolateprofessionaletiquette!
Andyouarealreadyinthehandsofafirst-rateLondondoctor,withwhomitwouldbeutteraffectationformetopretendtocompete.
(Imakenodoubtheisrightinsayingtheheartisaffected:allyoursymptomspointthatway.)
Onething,atanyrate,Ihavealreadydoneinmydoctorialcapacity—securedyouabedroomontheground-floor,sothatyouwillnotneedtoascendthestairsatall.
“IshaltexpectyoubylasttrainonFriday,inaccordancewithyourletter:and,tillthen,Ishaltsay,inthewordsoftheoldsong,‘OhforFridaynight!Friday’slanga-coming!’
“Yoursalways,
“ARTHURFORESTER.
“P.S.DoyoubelieveinFate?”
ThisPostscriptpuzzledmesorely.“Heisfartoosensibleaman,”Ithought,“tohavebecomeaFatalist.Andyetwhatelsecanhemeanbyit?”
And,asIfoldeduptheletterandputitaway,Iinadvertentlyrepeatedthewordsaloud.“DoyoubelieveinFate?”
Thefair‘Incognitoturnedherheadquicklyatthesuddenquestion.“No,Idon’t!”shesaidwithasmile.“Doyou?”
“I—Ididn’tmeantoaskthequestion!”Istammered,alittletakenabackathavingbegunaconversationinsounconventionalafashion.
Thelady’ssmilebecamealaugh—notamockinglaugh,butthelaughofahappychildwhoisperfectlyatherease.“Didn’tyou?”shesaid.
“ThenitwasacaseofwhatyouDoctorscall‘unconsciouscerebration’?”
“IamnoDoctor,”Ireplied.“DoIlooksolikeone?Orwhatmakesyouthinkit?”
ShepointedtothebookIhadbeenreading,whichwassolyingthatitstitle,“DiseasesoftheHeart,”wasplainlyvisible.
“Oneneedn’tbeaDoctor,”Isaid,“totakeaninterestinmedicalbooks.There’sanotherclassofreaders,whoareyetmoredeeplyinterested—”
“YoumeanthePatients?”sheinterrupted,whilealookoftenderpitygavenewsweetnesstoherface.
“But,”withanevidentwishtoavoidapossiblypainfultopic,“oneneedn’tbeeither,totakeaninterestinbooksofScience.
WhichcontainthegreatestamountofScience,doyouthink,thebooks,ortheminds?”
“Ratheraprofoundquestionforalady!”
Isaidtomyself,holding,withtheconceitsonaturaltoMan,thatWoman’sintellectisessentiallyshallow.
AndIconsideredaminutebeforereplying.
“Ifyoumeanlivingminds,Idon’tthinkit’spossibletodecide.
ThereissomuchwrittenSciencethatnolivingpersonhaseverread:andthereissomuchthought-outSciencethathasn’tyetbeenwritten.
But,ifyoumeanthewholehumanrace,thenIthinkthemindshaveit:everything,recordedinbooks,musthaveoncebeeninsomemind,youknow.”
“Isn’tthatratherlikeoneoftheRulesinAlgebra?”myLadyenquired.(“Algebratoo!”Ithoughtwithincreasingwonder.)
“Imean,ifweconsiderthoughtsasfactors,maywenotsaythattheLeastCommonMultipleofallthemindscontainsthatofallthebooks;butnottheotherway?”
“Certainlywemay!”Ireplied,delightedwiththeillustration.
“Andwhatagrandthingitwouldbe,”Iwentondreamily,thinkingaloudratherthantalking,“ifwecouldonlyapplythatRuletobooks!
Youknow,infindingtheLeastCommonMultiple,westrikeoutaquantitywhereveritoccurs,exceptinthetermwhereitisraisedtoitshighestpower.
Soweshouldhavetoeraseeveryrecordedthought,exceptinthesentencewhereitisexpressedwiththegreatestintensity.”
MyLadylaughedmerrily.“Somebookswouldbereducedtoblankpaper,I’mafraid!”shesaid.
“Theywould.Mostlibrarieswouldbeterriblydiminishedinbulk.Butjustthinkwhattheywouldgaininquality!”
“Whenwillitbedone?”sheeagerlyasked.“Ifthere’sanychanceofitinmytime,IthinkI’llleaveoffreading,andwaitforit!”
“Well,perhapsinanotherthousandyearsorso—”
“Thenthere’snousewaiting!”,saidmyLady.“Let’ssitdown.Uggug,mypet,comeandsitbyme!”
“Anywherebutbyme!”growledtheSub-warden.“Thelittlewretchalwaysmanagestoupsethiscoffee!”
Iguessedatonce(asperhapsthereaderwillalsohaveguessed,if,likemyself,heisverycleveratdrawingconclusions)thatmyLadywastheSub-Warden’swife,andthatUggug(ahideousfatboy,aboutthesameageasSylvie,withtheexpressionofaprize-pig)wastheirson.
SylvieandBruno,withtheLordChancellor,madeupapartyofseven.
“Andyouactuallygotaplunge-batheverymorning?”saidtheSub-Warden,seeminglyincontinuationofaconversationwiththeProfessor.“Evenatthelittleroadside-inns?”
“Oh,certainly,certainly!”theProfessorrepliedwithasmileonhisjollyface.“Allowmetoexplain.
Itis,infact,averysimpleprobleminHydrodynamics.
(ThatmeansacombinationofWaterandStrength.)
Ifwetakeaplunge-bath,andamanofgreatstrength(suchasmyself)abouttoplungeintoit,wehaveaperfectexampleofthisscience.
Iamboundtoadmit,”theProfessorcontinued,inalowertoneandwithdowncasteyes,“thatweneedamanofremarkablestrength.
Hemustbeabletospringfromthefloortoabouttwicehisownheight,graduallyturningoverasherises,soastocomedownagainheadfirst.”
“Why,youneedaflea,notaman!”exclaimedtheSub-Warden.
“Pardonme,”saidtheProfessor.“Thisparticularkindofbathisnotadaptedforaflea.
Letussuppose,”hecontinued,foldinghistable-napkinintoagracefulfestoon,“thatthisrepresentswhatisperhapsthenecessityofthisAge—theActiveTourist’sPortableBath.
Youmaydescribeitbriefly,ifyoulike,”lookingattheChancellor,“bythelettersA.T.P.B.”
TheChancellor,muchdisconcertedatfindingeverybodylookingathim,couldonlymurmur,inashywhisper,“Preciselyso!”
“Onegreatadvantageofthisplunge-bath,”continuedtheProfessor,“isthatitrequiresonlyhalf-a-gallonofwater—”
“Idon’tcallitaplunge-bath,”HisSub-Excellencyremarked,“unlessyourActiveTouristgoesrightunder!”
“Buthedoesgorightunder,”theoldmangentlyreplied.
“TheA.T.hangsuptheP.B.onanail—thus.
Hethenemptiesthewater-jugintoit—placestheemptyjugbelowthebag—leapsintotheair—descendshead-firstintothebag—thewaterrisesroundhimtothetopofthebag—andthereyouare!”hetriumphantlyconcluded.
“TheA.T.isasmuchunderwaterasifhe’dgoneamileortwodownintotheAtlantic!”
“Andhe’sdrowned,letussay,inaboutfourminutes—”
“Bynomeans!”theProfessoransweredwithaproudsmile.“Afteraboutaminute,hequietlyturnsatapatthelowerendoftheP.B.—allthewaterrunsbackintothejugandthereyouareagain!”
“Buthowintheworldishetogetoutofthebagagain?”
“That,Itakeit,”saidtheProfessor,“isthemostbeautifulpartofthewholeinvention.
AllthewayuptheP.B.,inside,areloopsforthethumbs;soit’ssomethinglikegoingup-stairs,onlyperhapslesscomfortable;and,bythetimetheA.T.hasrisenoutofthebag,allbuthishead,he’ssuretotoppleover,onewayortheother—theLawofGravitysecuresthat.Andthereheisontheflooragain!”
“Alittlebruised,perhaps?”
“Well,yes,alittlebruised;buthavinghadhisplunge-bath:that’sthegreatthing.”
“Wonderful!It’salmostbeyondbelief!”murmuredtheSub-Warden.TheProfessortookitasacompliment,andbowedwithagratifiedsmile.
“Quitebeyondbelief!”myLadyadded—meaning,nodoubt,tobemorecomplimentarystill.
TheProfessorbowed,buthedidn’tsmilethistime.
“Icanassureyou,”hesaidearnestly,“that,providedthebathwasmade,Iusediteverymorning.
Icertainlyorderedit—thatIamclearabout—myonlydoubtis,whetherthemaneverfinishedmakingit.
It’sdifficulttoremember,aftersomanyyears—”
Atthismomentthedoor,veryslowlyandcreakingly,begantoopen,andSylvieandBrunojumpedup,andrantomeetthewell-knownfootstep.
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