English
“Letuslapsebackagain,”saidLadyMuriel.“Takeanothercupoftea?Ihopethat’ssoundcommonsense?”
“Andallthatstrangeadventure,”Ithought,“hasoccupiedthespaceofasinglecommainLadyMuriel’sspeech!
Asinglecomma,forwhichgrammarianstellusto‘countone’!”
(IfeltnodoubtthattheProfessorhadkindlyputbackthetimeforme,totheexactpointatwhichIhadgonetosleep.)
When,afewminutesafterwards,weleftthehouse,Arthur’sfirstremarkwascertainlyastrangeone.
“We’vebeentherejusttwentyminutes,”hesaid,“andI’vedonenothingbutlistentoyouandLadyMurieltalking:andyet,somehow,IfeelexactlyasifIhadbeentalkingwithherforanhouratleast!”
Andsohehadbeen,Ifeltnodoubt:only,asthetimehadbeenputbacktothebeginningofthetete-a-tetehereferredto,thewholeofithadpassedintooblivion,ifnotintonothingness!
ButIvaluedmyownreputationforsanitytoohighlytoventureonexplainingtohimwhathadhappened.
Forsomecause,whichIcouldnotatthemomentdivine,Arthurwasunusuallygraveandsilentduringourwalkhome.
ItcouldnotbeconnectedwithEricLindon,Ithought,ashehadforsomedaysbeenawayinLondon:sothat,havingLadyMurielalmost‘alltohimself’—forIwasonlytoogladtohearthosetwoconversing,tohaveanywishtointrudeanyremarksofmyown—heought,theoretically,tohavebeenspeciallyradiantandcontentedwithlife.“Canhehaveheardanybadnews?”Isaidtomyself.
And,almostasifhehadreadmythoughts,hespoke.
“Hewillbeherebythelasttrain,”hesaid,inthetoneofonewhoiscontinuingaconversationratherthanbeginningone.
“CaptainLindon,doyoumean?”
“Yes—CaptainLindon,”saidArthur:“Isaid‘he,’becauseIfanciedweweretalkingabouthim.
TheEarltoldmehecomestonight,thoughto-morrowisthedaywhenhewillknowabouttheCommissionthathe’shopingfor.
Iwonderhedoesn’tstayanotherdaytoheartheresult,ifhe’sreallysoanxiousaboutitastheEarlbelievesheis.”
“Hecanhaveatelegramsentafterhim,”Isaid:“butit’snotverysoldier-like,runningawayfrompossiblebadnews!”
“He’saverygoodfellow,”saidArthur:“butIconfessitwouldbegoodnewsforme,ifhegothisCommission,andhisMarchingOrders,allatonce!
Iwishhimallhappiness—withoneexception.Goodnight!”(Wehadreachedhomebythistime.)
“I’mnotgoodcompanyto-night—betterbealone.”
Itwasmuchthesame,nextday.Arthurdeclaredhewasn’tfitforSociety,andIhadtosetforthaloneforanafternoon-stroll.
ItooktheroadtotheStation,and,atthepointwheretheroadfromthe‘Hall’joinedit,Ipaused,seeingmyfriendsinthedistance,seeminglyboundforthesamegoal.
“Willyoujoinus?”theEarlsaid,afterIhadexchangedgreetingswithhim,andLadyMuriel,andCaptainLindon.
“Thisrestlessyoungmanisexpectingatelegram,andwearegoingtotheStationtomeetit.”
“Thereisalsoarestlessyoungwomaninthecase,”LadyMurieladded.
“Thatgoeswithoutsaying,mychild,”saidherfather.“Womenarealwaysrestless!”
“Forgenerousappreciationofallone’sbestqualities,”hisdaughterimpressivelyremarked,“there’snothingtocomparewithafather,isthere,Eric?”
“Cousinsarenot‘init,’”saidEric:andthensomehowtheconversationlapsedintotwoduologues,theyoungerfolktakingthelead,andthetwooldmenfollowingwithlesseagersteps.
“Andwhenarewetoseeyourlittlefriendsagain?”saidtheEarl.“Theyaresingularlyattractivechildren.”
“Ishallbedelightedtobringthem,whenIcan,”Isaid!“ButIdon’tknow,myself,whenIamlikelytoseethemagain.”
“I’mnotgoingtoquestionyou,”saidtheEarl:“butthere’snoharminmentioningthatMurielissimplytormentedwithcuriosity!
Weknowmostofthepeopleabouthere,andshehasbeenvainlytryingtoguesswhathousetheycanpossiblybestayingat.”
“SomedayImaybeabletoenlightenher:butjustatpresent—”
“Thanks.Shemustbearitasbestshecan.Itellherit’sagrandopportunityforpractisingpatience.Butshehardlyseesitfromthatpointofview.Why,therearethechildren!”
Soindeedtheywere:waiting(forus,apparently)atastile,whichtheycouldnothaveclimbedovermorethanafewmoments,asLadyMurielandhercousinhadpasseditwithoutseeingthem.
Oncatchingsightofus,Brunorantomeetus,andtoexhibittous,withmuchpride,thehandleofaclasp-knife—thebladehavingbeenbrokenoff—whichhehadpickedupintheroad.
“Andwhatshallyouuseitfor,Bruno?”Isaid.
“Don’tknow,”Brunocarelesslyreplied:“mustthink.”
“Achild’sfirstviewoflife,”theEarlremarked,withthatsweetsadsmileofhis,“isthatitisaperiodtobespentinaccumulatingportableproperty.
Thatviewgetsmodifiedastheyearsglideaway.”
AndheheldouthishandtoSylvie,whohadplacedherselfbyme,lookingalittleshyofhim.
Butthegentleoldmanwasnotonewithwhomanychild,humanorfairy,couldbeshyforlong;andshehadverysoondesertedmyhandforhis—Brunoaloneremainingfaithfultohisfirstfriend.
WeovertooktheothercouplejustastheyreachedtheStation,andbothLadyMurielandEricgreetedthechildrenasoldfriends—thelatterwiththewords“SoyougottoBabylonbycandlelight,afterall?”
“Yes,andbackagain!”criedBruno.
LadyMuriellookedfromonetotheotherinblankastonishment.“What,youknowthem,Eric?”sheexclaimed.“Thismysterygrowsdeepereveryday!”
“ThenwemustbesomewhereintheThirdAct,”saidEric.“Youdon’texpectthemysterytobecleareduptilltheFifthAct,doyou?”
“Butit’ssuchalongdrama!”wastheplaintivereply.“WemusthavegottotheFifthActbythistime!”
“ThirdAct,Iassureyou,”saidtheyoungsoldiermercilessly.“Scene,arailway-platform.Lightsdown.
EnterPrince(indisguise,ofcourse)andfaithfulAttendant.
ThisisthePrince—”(takingBruno’shand)“andherestandshishumbleServant!”
WhatisyourRoyalHighnessnextcommand.?”
Andhemadeamostcourtier-likelowbowtohispuzzledlittlefriend.
“Oo’renotaServant!”Brunoscornfullyexclaimed.“Oo’reaGemplun!”
“Servant,IassureyourRoyalHighness!”Ericrespectfullyinsisted.“AllowmetomentiontoyourRoyalHighnessmyvarioussituations—past,present,andfuture.”
“Whatdidoobeginwiz?”Brunoasked,beginningtoenterintothejest.“Wasooashoe-black?”
“Lowerthanthat,yourRoyalHighness!Yearsago,IofferedmyselfasaSlave—asa‘ConfidentialSlave,’Ithinkit’scalled?”heasked,turningtoLadyMuriel.
ButLadyMurielheardhimnot:somethinghadgonewrongwithherglove,whichentirelyengrossedherattention.
“Didoogettheplace?”saidBruno.
“Sadtosay,YourRoyalHighness,Ididnot!SoIhadtotakeasituationas—asWaiter,whichIhavenowheldforsomeyearshaven’tI?”HeagainglancedatLadyMuriel.
“Sylviedear,dohelpmetobuttonthisglove!”LadyMurielwhispered,hastilystoopingdown,andfailingtohearthequestion.
“Andwhatwilloobenext?”saidBruno.
“Mynextplacewill,Ihope,bethatofGroom.Andafterthat—”
“Don’tpuzzlethechildso!”LadyMurielinterrupted.“Whatnonsenseyoutalk!”
“—afterthat,”Ericpersisted,“IhopetoobtainthesituationofHousekeeper,which—FourthAct!”
heproclaimed,withasuddenchangeoftone.“Lightsturnedup.Redlights.Greenlights.Distantrumbleheard.Enterapassenger-train!”
Andinanotherminutethetraindrewupalongsideoftheplatform,andastreamofpassengersbegantoflowoutfromthebookingofficeandwaiting-rooms.
“Didyouevermakereallifeintoadrama?”saidtheEarl.“Nowjusttry.I’veoftenamusedmyselfthatway.Considerthisplatformasourstage.
Goodentrancesandexitsonbothsides,yousee.
Capitalbackgroundscene:realenginemovingupanddown.
Allthisbustle,andpeoplepassingtoandfro,musthavebeenmostcarefullyrehearsed!Hownaturallytheydoit!Withneveraglanceattheaudience!
Andeverygroupingisquitefresh,yousee.Norepetition!”
Itreallywasadmirable,assoonasIbegantoenterintoitfromthispointofview.
Evenaporterpassing,withabarrowpiledwithluggage,seemedsorealisticthatonewastemptedtoapplaud.
Hewasfollowedbyanangrymother,withhotredface,draggingalongtwoscreamingchildren,andcalling,tosomeonebehind,“John!Comeon!”
EnterJohn,verymeek,verysilent,andloadedwithparcels.
Andhewasfollowed,inhisturn,byafrightenedlittlenursemaid,carryingafatbaby,alsoscreaming.Allthechildrenscreamed.
“Capitalbyplay!”saidtheoldmanaside.“Didyounoticethenursemaid’slookofterror?Itwassimplyperfect!”
“Youhavestruckquiteanewvein,”Isaid.“TomostofusLifeanditspleasuresseemlikeaminethatisnearlyworkedout.”
“Workedout!”exclaimedtheEarl.
“Foranyonewithtruedramaticinstincts,itisonlytheOverturethatisended!Therealtreathasyettobegin.
Yougotoatheatre,andpayyourtenshillingsforastall,andwhatdoyougetforyourmoney?
Perhapsit’sadialoguebetweenacoupleoffarmers—unnaturalintheiroverdonecaricatureoffarmers’dress—moreunnaturalintheirconstrainedattitudesandgestures—mostunnaturalintheirattemptsateaseandgenialityintheirtalk.
Goinsteadandtakeaseatinathird-classrailway-carriage,andyou’llgetthesamedialoguedonetothelife!
Front-seats—noorchestratoblocktheview—andnothingtopay!”
“Whichremindsme,”saidEric.“Thereisnothingtopayonreceivingatelegram!Shallweenquireforone?”AndheandLadyMurielstrolledoffinthedirectionoftheTelegraph-Office.
“IwonderifShakespearehadthatthoughtinhismind,”Isaid,“whenhewrote‘Alltheworld’sastage’?”
Theoldmansighed.“Andsoitis,“hesaid,“lookatitasyouwill.
Lifeisindeedadrama;adramawithbutfewencores—andnobouquets!”headdeddreamily.
“Wespendonehalfofitinregrettingthethingswedidintheotherhalf!”
“Andthesecretofenjoyingit,”hecontinued,resuminghischeerfultone,“isintensity!”
“Butnotinthemodernaestheticsense,Ipresume?Liketheyounglady,inPunch,whobeginsaconversationwith‘Areyouintense?’”
“Bynomeans!”repliedtheEarl.
“WhatImeanisintensityofthought—aconcentratedattention.
WelosehalfthepleasurewemighthaveinLife,bynotreallyattending.
Takeanyinstanceyoulike:itdoesn’tmatterhowtrivialthepleasuremaybe—theprincipleisthesame.
SupposeAandBarereadingthesamesecond-ratecirculating-librarynovel.
Anevertroubleshimselftomastertherelationshipsofthecharacters,onwhichperhapsalltheinterestofthestorydepends:he‘skips’overallthedescriptionsofscenery,andeverypassagethatlooksratherdull:hedoesn’thalfattendtothepassageshedoesread:hegoesonreadingmerelyfromwantofresolutiontofindanotheroccupation—forhoursafterheoughttohaveputthebookaside:andreachesthe‘FINIS’inastateofutterwearinessanddepression!
Bputshiswholesoulintothething—ontheprinciplethat‘whateverisworthdoingisworthdoingwell’:hemastersthegenealogies:hecallsuppicturesbeforehis‘mind’seye’ashereadsaboutthescenery:bestofall,heresolutelyshutsthebookattheendofsomechapter,whilehisinterestisyetatitskeenest,andturnstoothersubjects;sothat,whennextheallowshimselfanhouratit,itislikeahungrymansittingdowntodinner:and,whenthebookisfinished,hereturnstotheworkofhisdailylifelike‘agiantrefreshed’!”
“Butsupposethebookwerereallyrubbish—nothingtorepayattention?”
“Well,supposeit,”saidtheEarl.“Mytheorymeetsthatcase,Iassureyou!
Aneverfindsoutthatitisrubbish,butmaundersontotheend,tryingtobelievehe’senjoyinghimself.
Bquietlyshutsthebook,whenhe’sreadadozenpages,walksofftotheLibrary,andchangesitforabetter!
IhaveyetanothertheoryforaddingtotheenjoymentofLife—thatis,ifIhavenotexhaustedyourpatience?
I’mafraidyoufindmeaverygarrulousoldman.”
“Noindeed!”Iexclaimedearnestly.AndindeedIfeltasifonecouldnoteasilytireofthesweetsadnessofthatgentlevoice.
“Itis,thatweshouldlearntotakeourpleasuresquickly,andourpainsslowly.”
“Butwhy?Ishouldhaveputittheotherway,myself.”
“Bytakingartificialpain—whichcanbeastrivialasyouplease—slowly,theresultisthat,whenrealpaincomes,howeversevere,allyouneeddoistoletitgoatitsordinarypace,andit’soverinamoment!”
“Verytrue,”Isaid,“buthowaboutthepleasure?”
“Why,bytakingitquick,youcangetsomuchmoreintolife.
Ittakesyouthreehoursandahalftohearandenjoyanopera.
SupposeIcantakeitin,andenjoyit,inhalf-an-hour.
Why,Icanenjoysevenoperas,whileyouarelistening;toone!”
“Alwayssupposingyouhaveanorchestracapableofplayingthem,”Isaid.“Andthatorchestrahasyettobefound!”
Theoldmansmiled.“Ihaveheardan‘airplayed,”hesaid,“andbynomeansashortone—playedrightthrough,variationsandall,inthreeseconds!”
“When?Andhow?”Iaskedeagerly,withahalf-notionthatIwasdreamingagain.
“Itwasdonebyalittlemusical-box,”hequietlyreplied.
“Afterithadbeenwoundup,theregulator,orsomething,broke,anditrandown,asIsaid,inaboutthreeseconds.
Butitmusthaveplayedallthenotes,youknow!”
“Didyouenjoyit?Iasked,withalltheseverityofacross-examiningbarrister.
“No,Ididn’t!”hecandidlyconfessed.“Butthen,youknow,Ihadn’tbeentrainedtothatkindofmusic!”
“Ishouldmuchliketotryyourplan,”Isaid,and,asSylvieandBrunohappenedtorunuptousatthemoment,IleftthemtokeeptheEarlcompany,andstrolledalongtheplatform,makingeachpersonandeventplayitspartinanextemporedramaformyespecialbenefit.
“What,istheEarltiredofyoualready?”Isaid,asthechildrenranpastme.
“No!”Sylvierepliedwithgreatemphasis.“Hewantstheevening-paper.SoBruno’sgoingtobealittlenews-boy!”
“Mindyouchargeagoodpriceforit!”Icalledafterthem.
Returninguptheplatform,IcameuponSylviealone.“Well,child,”Isaid,“where’syourlittlenews-boy?Couldn’thegetyouanevening-paper?”
“Hewenttogetoneatthebook-stallattheotherside,”saidSylvie;“andhe’scomingacrossthelinewithit—oh,Bruno,yououghttocrossbythebridge!”
forthedistantthud,thud,oftheExpresswasalreadyaudible.
Suddenlyalookofhorrorcameoverherface.“Oh,he’sfallendownontherails!”shecried,anddartedpastmeataspeedthatquitedefiedthehastyeffortImadetostopher.
ButthewheezyoldStation-Masterhappenedtobeclosebehindme:hewasn’tgoodformuch,pooroldman,buthewasgoodforthis;and,beforeIcouldturnround,hehadthechildclaspedinhisarms,savedfromthecertaindeathshewasrushingto.
SointentwasIinwatchingthisscene,thatIhardlysawaflyingfigureinalightgreysuit,whoshotacrossfromthebackoftheplatform,andwasonthelineinanothersecond.
Sofarasonecouldtakenoteoftimeinsuchamomentofhorror,hehadabouttenclearseconds,beforetheExpresswouldbeuponhim,inwhichtocrosstherailsandtopickupBruno.
Whetherhedidsoornotitwasquiteimpossibletoguess:thenextthingoneknewwasthattheExpresshadpassed,andthat,whetherforlifeordeath,allwasover.
Whenthecloudofdusthadclearedaway,andthelinewasoncemorevisible,wesawwiththankfulheartsthatthechildandhisdelivererweresafe.
“Allright!”Ericcalledtouscheerfully,asherecrossedtheline.“He’smorefrightenedthanhurt!”
HeliftedthelittlefellowupintoLadyMuriel’sarms,andmountedtheplatformasgailyasifnothinghadhappened:buthewasaspaleasdeath,andleanedheavilyonthearmIhastilyofferedhim,fearinghewasabouttofaint.
“I’lljust—sitdownamoment—”hesaiddreamily:“—where’sSylvie?”
Sylvierantohim,andflungherarmsroundhisneck,sobbingasifherheartwouldbreak.“Don’tdothat,mydarling!”
Ericmurmured,withastrangelookinhiseyes.“Nothingtocryaboutnow,youknow.
Butyouverynearlygotyourselfkilledfornothing!”
“ForBruno!”thelittlemaidensobbed.“Andhewouldhavedoneitforme.Wouldn’tyou,Bruno?”
“CourseIwould!”Brunosaid,lookingroundwithabewilderedair.
LadyMurielkissedhiminsilenceassheputhimdownoutofherarms.
ThenshebeckonedSylvietocomeandtakehishand,andsignedtothechildrentogobacktowheretheEarlwasseated.
“Tellhim,”shewhisperedwithquiveringlips,“tellhim—alliswell!”Thensheturnedtotheherooftheday.“Ithoughtitwasdeath,”shesaid.“ThankGod,youaresafe!Didyouseehownearitwas?”
“Isawtherewasjusttime,Ericsaidlightly.
“Asoldiermustlearntocarryhislifeinhishand,youknow.I’mallrightnow.Shallwegotothetelegraph-officeagain?Idaresayit’scomebythistime.”
IwenttojointheEarlandthechildren,andwewaited—almostinsilence,fornooneseemedinclinedtotalk,andBrunowashalf-asleeponSylvie’slap—tilltheothersjoinedus.Notelegramhadcome.
“I’lltakeastrollwiththechildren,”Isaid,feelingthatwewerealittledetrop,“andI’lllookin,inthecourseoftheevening.”
“Wemustgobackintothewood,now,”Sylviesaid,assoonaswewereoutofhearing.
“Weca’n’tstaythissizeanylonger.”
“ThenyouwillbequitetinyFairiesagain,nexttimewemeet?”
“Yes,”saidSylvie:“butwe’llbechildrenagainsomeday—ifyou’llletus.Bruno’sveryanxioustoseeLadyMurielagain.”
“Shearewellynice,”saidBruno.
“Ishallbeverygladtotakeyoutoseeheragain,”Isaid.“Hadn’tIbettergiveyoubacktheProfessor’sWatch?It’llbetoolargeforyoutocarrywhenyou’reFairies,youknow.”
Brunolaughedmerrily.Iwasgladtoseehehadquiterecoveredfromtheterriblescenehehadgonethrough.“Ohno,itwon’t!”hesaid.“Whenwegosmall,it’llgosmall!”
“Andthenit’llgostraighttotheProfessor,”Sylvieadded,“andyouwon’tbeabletouseitanymore:soyou’dbetteruseitallyoucan,now.Wemustgosmallwhenthesunsets.Good-bye!”
“Good-bye!”criedBruno.Buttheirvoicessoundedveryfaraway,and,whenIlookedround,bothchildrenhaddisappeared.
“Anditwantsonlytwohourstosunset!”IsaidasIstrolledon.“Imustmakethebestofmytime!”
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