首页 >出版文学> The Works of Rudyard Kipling One>第112章
  Dickfelthiswaybacktothebigchair,andwonderedwhatthesethingsmightmeanHedidnotwishtobetendedbythehousekeeper,andyetTorpenhow’sconstanttendernessjarredonhimHedidnotexactlyknowwhathewantedThedarknesswouldnotlift,andMaisie’sunopenedlettersfeltwornandoldfrommuchhandlingHecouldneverreadthemforhimselfaslongaslifeendured;butMaisiemighthavesenthimsomefreshonestoplaywithTheNilghaienteredwithagift,——apieceofredmodelling-waxHefanciedthatDickmightfindinterestinusinghishandsDickpokedandpattedthestuffforafewminutes,and,’Isitlikeanythingintheworld?’hesaiddrearily’TakeitawayImaygetthetouchoftheblindinfiftyyearsDoyouknowwhereTorpenhowhasgone?’
  TheNilghaiknewnothing’We’restayinginhisroomstillhecomesbackCanwedoanythingforyou?’
  ’I’dliketobeleftalone,pleaseDon’tthinkI’mungrateful;butI’mbestalone。’
  TheNilghaichuckled,andDickresumedhisdrowsybroodingandsullenrebellionagainstfateHehadlongsinceceasedtothinkabouttheworkhehaddoneintheolddays,andthedesiretodomoreworkhaddepartedfromhimHewasexceedinglysorryforhimself,andthecompletenessofhistendergriefsoothedhimButhissoulandhisbodycriedforMaisie——MaisiewhowouldunderstandHismindpointedoutthatMaisie,havingherownworktodo,wouldnotcareHisexperiencehadtaughthimthatwhenmoneywasexhaustedwomenwentaway,andthatwhenamanwasknockedoutoftheracetheotherstrampledonhim。
  ’Thenattheleast,’saidDick,inreply,’shecouldusemeasIusedBinat,——forsomesortofastudyIwouldn’taskmorethantobenearheragain,eventhoughIknewthatanothermanwasmakinglovetoherUgh!
  whatadogIam!’
  Avoiceonthestaircasebegantosingjoyfully——
  ’Whenwego——go——goawayfromhere,Ourcreditorswillweepandtheywillwail,Ourabsencemuchregrettingwhentheyfindthatthey’vebeengettingOutofEnglandbynextTuesday’sIndianmail。’
  Followingthetramplingoffeet,slammingofTorpenhow’sdoor,andthesoundofvoicesinstrenuousdebate,someonesqueaked,’Andsee,yougoodfellows,Ihavefoundanewwater-bottle——firs’-classpatent——eh,howyousay?Openhimselfinsideout。’
  DicksprangtohisfeetHeknewthevoicewell’That’sCassavetti,comebackfromtheContinentNowIknowwhyTorpwentaway。
  There’sarowsomewhere,and——I’moutofit!’
  TheNilghaicommandedsilenceinvain’That’sformysake,’Dicksaidbitterly’Thebirdsaregettingreadytofly,andtheywouldn’ttellmeI
  canhearMorten-SutherlandandMackayeHalftheWarCorrespondentsinLondonarethere;——andI’moutofit。’
  HestumbledacrossthelandingandplungedintoTorpenhow’sroomHecouldfeelthatitwasfullofmen’Where’sthetrouble?’saidhe’IntheBalkansatlast?Whydidn’tsomeonetellme?’
  ’Wethoughtyouwouldn’tbeinterested,’saidtheNilghai,shamefacedly。
  ’It’sintheSoudan,asusual。’
  ’Youluckydogs!LetmesitherewhileyoutalkIshan’tbeaskeletonatthefeast——Cassavetti,whereareyou?YourEnglishisasbadasever。’
  DickwasledintoachairHeheardtherustleofthemaps,andthetalksweptforward,carryinghimwithitEverybodyspokeatonce,discussingpresscensorships,railway-routes,transport,water-supply,thecapacitiesofgenerals,——theseinlanguagethatwouldhavehorrifiedatrustingpublic,——rangint,asserting,denouncing,andlaughingatthetopoftheirvoicesTherewasthegloriouscertaintyofwarintheSoudanatanymomentTheNilghaisaidso,anditwaswelltobeinreadiness。
  TheKeneuhadtelegraphedtoCairoforhorses;Cassavettihadstolenaperfectlyinaccuratelistoftroopsthatwouldbeorderedforward,andwasreadingitoutamidprofaneinterruptions,andtheKeneuintroducedtoDicksomemanunknownwhowouldbeemployedaswarartistbytheCentralSouthernSyndicate’It’shisfirstouting,’saidtheKeneu。
  ’Givehimsometips——aboutridingcamels。’
  ’Oh,thosecamels!’groanedCassavetti’Ishalllearntoridehimagain,andnowIamsomuchallsoft!Listen,yougoodfellowsIknowyourmilitaryarrangementverywellTherewillgotheRoyalArgalshireSutherlandersSoitwasreadtomeuponbestauthority。’
  Aroaroflaughterinterruptedhim。
  ’Sitdown,’saidtheNilghai’Thelistsaren’tevenmadeoutintheWarOffice。’
  ’WilltherebeanyforceatSuakin?’aidavoice。
  Thentheoutcriesredoubled,andgrewmixed,thus:’HowmanyEgyptiantroopswilltheyuse?——GodhelptheFellaheen!——There’sarailwayinPlumsteadmarshesdoingdutyasafives-court——WeshallhavetheSuakin-Berberlinebuiltatlast——CanadianvoyageursaretoocarefulGivemeahalf-drunkKroomaninawhale-boat——WhocommandstheDesertcolumn?——No,theyneverblewupthebigrockintheGhinehbendWeshallhavetobehauledup,asusual——Somebodytellmeifthere’sanIndiancontingent,orI’llbreakeverybody’shead——Don’ttearthemapintwo——It’sawarofoccupation,Itellyou,toconnectwiththeAfricancompaniesintheSouth——There’sGuinea-worminmostofthewellsonthatroute。’ThentheNilghai,despairingofpeace,bellowedlikeafog-hornandbeatuponthetablewithbothhands。
  ’ButwhatbecomesofTorpenhow?’saidDick,inthesilencethatfollowed。
  ’Torp’sinabeyancejustnowHe’sofflove-makingsomewhere,I
  suppose,’saidtheNilghai。
  ’Hesaidhewasgoingtostayathome,’saidtheKeneu。
  ’Ishe?’saidDick,withanoath’Hewon’tI’mnotmuchgoodnow,butifyouandtheNilghaiholdhimdownI’llengagetotrampleonhimtillheseesreasonHe’llstaybehind,indeed!He’sthebestofyouall。
  There’llbesometoughworkbyOmdurmanWeshallcometheretostay,thistime。
  ButIforgotIwishIweregoingwithyou。’
  ’Sodoweall,Dickie,’saidtheKeneu。
  ’AndImostofall,’saidthenewartistoftheCentralSouthernSyndicate。
  ’Couldyoutellme——’
  ’I’llgiveyouonepieceofadvice,’Dickanswered,movingtowardsthedoor’Ifyouhappentobecutovertheheadinascrimmage,don’tguard。
  TellthemantogooncuttingYou’llfinditcheapestintheend。
  Thanksforlettingmelookin。’
  ’There’sgritinDick,’saidtheNilghai,anhourlater,whentheroomwasemptiedofallsavetheKeneu。
  ’Itwasthesacredcallofthewar-trumpetDidyounoticehowheansweredtoit?Poorfellow!Let’slookathim,’saidtheKeneu。
  TheexcitementofthetalkhaddiedawayDickwassittingbythestudiotable,withhisheadonhisarms,whenthemencameinHedidnotchangehisposition。
  ’Ithurts,’hemoaned’Godforgiveme,butithurtscruelly;andyet,y’know,theworldhasaknackofspinningroundallbyitselfShallIseeTorpbeforehegoes?’
  ’Oh,yesYou’llseehim,’saidtheNilghai。
  Thesunwentdownanhourago,IwonderifIfacetowardshome;
  IfIlostmywayinthelightofdayHowshallIfinditnownightiscome?——
  OldSong-
  ’MAISIE,cometobed。’
  ’It’ssohotIcan’tsleepDon’tworry。’
  Maisieputherelbowsonthewindow-sillandlookedatthemoonlightonthestraight,poplar-flankedroadSummerhadcomeuponVitry-sur-MarneandparchedittotheboneThegrasswasdry-burntinthemeadows,theclaybythebankoftheriverwascakedtobrick,theroadsideflowerswerelongsincedead,andtherosesinthegardenhungwitheredontheirstalksTheheatinthelittlelowbedroomundertheeaveswasalmostintolerableTheverymoonlightonthewallofKami’sstudioacrosstheroadseemedtomakethenighthotter,andtheshadowofthebigbell-handlebytheclosedgatecastabarofinkyblackthatcaughtMaisie’seyeandannoyedher。
  ’Horridthing!Itshouldbeallwhite,’shemurmured’Andthegateisn’tinthemiddleofthewall,eitherInevernoticedthatbefore。’
  MaisiewashardtopleaseatthathourFirst,theheatofthepastfewweekshadwornherdown;secondly,herwork,andparticularlythestudyofafemaleheadintendedtorepresenttheMelancoliaandnotfinishedintimefortheSalon,wasunsatisfactory;thirdly,Kamihadsaidasmuchtwodaysbefore;fourthly,——butsocompletelyfourthlythatitwashardlyworththinkingabout,——Dick,herproperty,hadnotwrittentoherformorethansixweeksShewasangrywiththeheat,withKami,andwithherwork,butshewasexceedinglyangrywithDick。
  Shehadwrittentohimthreetimes,——eachtimeproposingafreshtreatmentofherMelancoliaDickhadtakennonoticeofthesecommunicationsShehadresolvedtowritenomoreWhenshereturnedtoEnglandintheautumn——forherpride’ssakeshecouldnotreturnearlier——shewouldspeaktohimShemissedtheSundayafternoonconferencesmorethanshecaredtoadmitAllthatKamisaidwas,’Continuez,mademoiselle,continueztoujours,’andhehadbeenrepeatingthewearisomecounselthroughthehotsummer,exactlylikeacicada,——anoldgraycicadainablackalpacacoat,whitetrousers,andahugefelthat。
  ButDickhadtrampedmasterfullyupanddownherlittlestudionorthofthecoolgreenLondonpark,andhadsaidthingstentimesworsethancontinuez,beforehesnatchedthebrushoutofherhandandshowedherwheretheerrorlayHislastletter,Maisieremembered,containedsometrivialadviceaboutnotsketchinginthesunordrinkingwateratwaysidefarmhouses;andhehadsaidthatnotonce,butthreetimes,——asifhedidnotknowthatMaisiecouldtakecareofherself。
  Butwhatwashedoing,thathecouldnottroubletowrite?A
  murmurofvoicesintheroadmadeherleanfromthewindowAcavalrymanofthelittlegarrisoninthetownwastalkingtoKami’scookThemoonlightglitteredonthescabbardofhissabre,whichhewasholdinginhishandlestitshouldclankinopportunelyThecook’scapcastdeepshadowsonherface,whichwasclosetotheconscript’sHeslidhisarmroundherwaist,andtherefollowedthesoundofakiss。
  ’Faugh!’saidMaisie,steppingback。
  ’What’sthat?’saidthered-hairedgirl,whowastossinguneasilyoutsideherbed。
  ’Onlyaconscriptkissingthecook,’saidMaisie。
  ’They’vegoneawaynow。’Sheleanedoutofthewindowagain,andputashawloverhernightgowntoguardagainstchillsTherewasaverysmallnight-breezeabroad,andasun-bakedrosebelownoddeditsheadasonewhoknewunutterablesecretsWasitpossiblethatDickshouldturnhisthoughtsfromherworkandhisownanddescendtothedegradationofSuzanneandtheconscript?Hecouldnot!TherosenoddeditsheadandoneleaftherewithItlookedlikeanaughtylittledevilscratchingitsear。
  Dickcouldnot,’because,’thoughtMaisie,’heismind,——mine,——mineHesaidhewasI’msureIdon’tcarewhathedoesItwillonlyspoilhisworkifhedoes;anditwillspoilminetoo。’
  Therosecontinuedtonoditthefutilewaypeculiartoflowers。
  TherewasnoearthlyreasonwhyDickshouldnotdisporthimselfashechose,exceptthathewascalledbyProvidence,whichwasMaisie,toassistMaisieinherworkAndherworkwasthepreparationofpicturesthatwentsometimestoEnglishprovincialexhibitions,asthenoticesinthescrap-bookproved,andthatwereinvariablyrejectedbytheSalonwhenKamiwasplaguedintoallowinghertosendthemupHerworkinthefuture,itseemed,wouldbethepreparationofpicturesonexactlysimilarlineswhichwouldberejectedinexactlythesameway——
  Thered-hairedgirlthresheddistressfullyacrossthesheets’It’stoohottosleep,’shemoaned;andtheinterruptionjarred。
  ExactlythesamewayThenshewoulddivideheryearsbetweenthelittlestudioinEnglandandKami’sbigstudioatVitry-sur-MarneNo,shewouldgotoanothermaster,whoshouldforceherintothesuccessthatwasherright,ifpatienttoilanddesperateendeavourgaveonearighttoanythingDickhadtoldherthathehadworkedtenyearstounderstandhiscraftShehadworkedtenyears,andtenyearswerenothing。
  Dickhadsaidthattenyearswerenothing,——butthatwasinregardtoherselfonlyHehadsaid——thisverymanwhocouldnotfindtimetowrite——thathewouldwaittenyearsforher,andthatshewasboundtocomebacktohimsoonerorlaterHehadsaidthisintheabsurdletteraboutsunstrokeanddiphtheria;andthenhehadstoppedwritingHewaswanderingupanddownmoonlitstreets,kissingcooksShewouldliketolecturehimnow,——notinhernightgown,ofcourse,butproperlydressed,severelyandfromaheightYetifhewaskissingothergirlshecertainlywouldnotcarewhethershelecturehimornotHewouldlaughatherVerygood。