death of the lion-第7部分

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possesses　me　and　cynicism　deeply　engages。　　I　positively　feel　my　own　
flesh　sore　from　the　brass　nails　in　Neil　Paraday's　social　harness。　　
The　house　is　full　of　people　who　like　him；　as　they　mention；　awfully；　
and　with　whom　his　talent　for　talking　nonsense　has　prodigious　
success。　　I　delight　in　his　nonsense　myself；　why　is　it　therefore　
that　I　grudge　these　happy　folk　their　artless　satisfaction？　　Mystery　
of　the　human　heart　…　abyss　of　the　critical　spirit！　　Mrs。　Wimbush　
thinks　she　can　answer　that　question；　and　as　my　want　of　gaiety　has　
at　last　worn　out　her　patience　she　has　given　me　a　glimpse　of　her　
shrewd　guess。　　I'm　made　restless　by　the　selfishness　of　the　
insincere　friend　…　I　want　to　monopolise　Paraday　in　order　that　he　
may　push　me　on。　　To　be　intimate　with　him　is　a　feather　in　my　cap；　it　
gives　me　an　importance　that　I　couldn't　naturally　pretend　to；　and　I　
seek　to　deprive　him　of　social　refreshment　because　I　fear　that　
meeting　more　disinterested　people　may　enlighten　him　as　to　my　real　
motive。　　All　the　disinterested　people　here　are　his　particular　
admirers　and　have　been　carefully　selected　as　such。　　There's　
supposed　to　be　a　copy　of　his　last　book　in　the　house；　and　in　the　
hall　I　come　upon　ladies；　in　attitudes；　bending　gracefully　over　the　
first　volume。　　I　discreetly　avert　my　eyes；　and　when　I　next　look　
round　the　precarious　joy　has　been　superseded　by　the　book　of　life。　　
There's　a　sociable　circle　or　a　confidential　couple；　and　the　
relinquished　volume　lies　open　on　its　face　and　as　dropped　under　
extreme　coercion。　　Somebody　else　presently　finds　it　and　transfers　
it；　with　its　air　of　momentary　desolation；　to　another　piece　of　
furniture。　　Every　one's　asking　every　one　about　it　all　day；　and　
every　one's　telling　every　one　where　they　put　it　last。　　I'm　sure　
it's　rather　smudgy　about　the　twentieth　page。　　I've　a　strong　
impression；　too；　that　the　second　volume　is　lost　…　has　been　packed　
in　the　bag　of　some　departing　guest；　and　yet　everybody　has　the　
impression　that　somebody　else　has　read　to　the　end。　　You　see　
therefore　that　the　beautiful　book　plays　a　great　part　in　our　
existence。　　Why　should　I　take　the　occasion　of　such　distinguished　
honours　to　say　that　I　begin　to　see　deeper　into　Gustave　Flaubert's　
doleful　refrain　about　the　hatred　of　literature？　　I　refer　you　again　
to　the　perverse　constitution　of　man。

〃The　Princess　is　a　massive　lady　with　the　organisation　of　an　athlete　
and　the　confusion　of　tongues　of　a　valet　de　place。　　She　contrives　to　
commit　herself　extraordinarily　little　in　a　great　many　languages；　
and　is　entertained　and　conversed　with　in　detachments　and　relays；　
like　an　institution　which　goes　on　from　generation　to　generation　or　
a　big　building　contracted　for　under　a　forfeit。　　She　can't　have　a　
personal　taste　any　more　than；　when　her　husband　succeeds；　she　can　
have　a　personal　crown；　and　her　opinion　on　any　matter　is　rusty　and　
heavy　and　plain　…　made；　in　the　night　of　ages；　to　last　and　be　
transmitted。　　I　feel　as　if　I　ought　to　'tip'　some　custode　for　my　
glimpse　of　it。　　She　has　been　told　everything　in　the　world　and　has　
never　perceived　anything；　and　the　echoes　of　her　education　respond　
awfully　to　the　rash　footfall　…　I　mean　the　casual　remark　…　in　the　
cold　Valhalla　of　her　memory。　　Mrs。　Wimbush　delights　in　her　wit　and　
says　there's　nothing　so　charming　as　to　hear　Mr。　Paraday　draw　it　
out。　　He's　perpetually　detailed　for　this　job；　and　he　tells　me　it　
has　a　peculiarly　exhausting　effect。　　Every　one's　beginning　…　at　the　
end　of　two　days　…　to　sidle　obsequiously　away　from　her；　and　Mrs。　
Wimbush　pushes　him　again　and　again　into　the　breach。　　None　of　the　
uses　I　have　yet　seen　him　put　to　infuriate　me　quite　so　much。　　He　
looks　very　fagged　and　has　at　last　confessed　to　me　that　his　
condition　makes　him　uneasy　…　has　even　promised　me　he'll　go　straight　
home　instead　of　returning　to　his　final　engagements　in　town。　　Last　
night　I　had　some　talk　with　him　about　going　to…day；　cutting　his　
visit　short；　so　sure　am　I　that　he'll　be　better　as　soon　as　he's　shut　
up　in　his　lighthouse。　　He　told　me　that　this　is　what　he　would　like　
to　do；　reminding　me；　however；　that　the　first　lesson　of　his　
greatness　has　been　precisely　that　he　can't　do　what　he　likes。　　Mrs。　
Wimbush　would　never　forgive　him　if　he　should　leave　her　before　the　
Princess　has　received　the　last　hand。　　When　I　hint　that　a　violent　
rupture　with　our　hostess　would　be　the　best　thing　in　the　world　for　
him　he　gives　me　to　understand　that　if　his　reason　assents　to　the　
proposition　his　courage　hangs　woefully　back。　　He　makes　no　secret　of　
being　mortally　afraid　of　her；　and　when　I　ask　what　harm　she　can　do　
him　that　she　hasn't　already　done　he　simply　repeats：　　'I'm　afraid；　
I'm　afraid！　　Don't　enquire　too　closely；'　he　said　last　night；　'only　
believe　that　I　feel　a　sort　of　terror。　　It's　strange；　when　she's　so　
kind！　　At　any　rate；　I'd　as　soon　overturn　that　piece　of　priceless　
Sevres　as　tell　her　I　must　go　before　my　date。'　　It　sounds　dreadfully　
weak；　but　he　has　some　reason；　and　he　pays　for　his　imagination；　
which　puts　him　（I　should　hate　it）　in　the　place　of　others　and　makes　
him　feel；　even　against　himself；　their　feelings；　their　appetites；　
their　motives。　　It's　indeed　inveterately　against　himself　that　he　
makes　his　imagination　act。　　What　a　pity　he　has　such　a　lot　of　it！　　
He's　too　beastly　intelligent。　　Besides；　the　famous　reading's　still　
to　come　off；　and　it　has　been　postponed　a　day　to　allow　Guy　
Walsingham　to　arrive。　　It　appears　this　eminent　lady's　staying　at　a　
house　a　few　miles　off；　which　means　of　course　that　Mrs。　Wimbush　has　
forcibly　annexed　her。　　She's　to　come　over　in　a　day　or　two　…　Mrs。　
Wimbush　wants　her　to　hear　Mr。　Paraday。

〃To…day's　wet　and　cold；　and　several　of　the　company；　at　the　
invitation　of　the　Duke；　have　driven　over　to　luncheon　at　Bigwood。　　I　
saw　poor　Paraday　wedge　himself；　by　command；　into　the　little　
supplementary　seat　of　a　brougham　in　which　the　Princess　and　our　
hostess　were　already　ensconced。　　If　the　front　glass　isn't　open　on　
his　dear　old　back　perhaps　he'll　survive。　　Bigwood；　I　believe；　is　
very　grand　and　frigid；　all　marble　and　precedence；　and　I　wish　him　
well　out　of　the　adventure。　　I　can't　tell　you　how　much　more　and　more　
your　attitude　to　him；　in　the　midst　of　all　this；　shines　out　by　
contrast。　　I　never　willingly　talk　to　these　people　about　him；　but　
see　what　a　comfort　I　find　it　to　scribble　to　you！　　I　appreciate　it　…　
it　keeps　me　warm；　there　are　no　fires　in　the　house。　　Mrs。　Wimbush　
goes　by　the　calendar；　the　temperature　goes　by　the　weather；　the　
weather　goes　by　God　knows　what；　and　the　Princess　is　easily　heated。　　
I've　nothing　but　my　acrimony　to　warm　me；　and　have　been　out　under　an　
umbrella　to　restore　my　circulation。　　Coming　in　an　hour　ago　I　found　
Lady　Augusta　Minch　rummaging　about　the　hall。　　When　I　asked　her　what　
she　was　looking　for　she　said　she　had　mislaid　something　that　Mr。　
Paraday　had　lent　her。　　I　ascertained　in　a　moment　that　the　article　
in　question　is　a　manuscript；　and　I've　a　foreboding　that　it's　the　
noble　morsel　he　read　me　six　weeks　ago。　　When　I　expressed　my　
surprise　that　he　should　have　bandied　about　anything　so　precious　（I　
happen　to　know　it's　his　only　copy　…　in　the　most　beautiful　hand　in　
all　the　world）　Lady　Augusta　confessed　to　me　that　she　hadn't　had　it　
from　himself；　but　from　Mrs。　Wimbush；　who　had　wished　to　give　her　a　
glimpse　of　it　as　a　salve　for　her　not　being　able　to　stay　and　hear　it　
read。

〃'Is　that　the　piece　he's　to　read；'　I　asked；　'when　Guy　Walsingham　
arrives？'

〃'It's　not　for　Guy　Walsingham　they're　waiting　now；　it's　for　Dora　
Forbes；'　Lady　Augusta　said。　　'She's　coming；　I　believe；　early　to…
morrow。　　Meanwhile　Mrs。　Wimbush　has　found　out　about　him；　and　is　
actively　wiring　to　him。　　She　says　he　also　must　hear　him。'

〃'You　bewilder　me　a　little；'　I　replied；　'in　the　age　we　live　in　one　
gets　lost　among　the　genders　and　the　pronouns。　　The　clear　thing　is　
that　Mrs。　Wimbush　doesn't　guard　such　a　treasure　so　jealously　as　she　
might。'

〃'Poor　dear；　she　has　the　Princess　to　guard！　　Mr。　Paraday　lent　her　
the　manuscript　to　look　over。'

〃'She　spoke；　you　mean；　as　if　it　were　the　morning　paper？'

〃Lady　Augusta　stared　…　my　irony　was　lost　on　her。　　'She　didn't　have　
time；　so　she　gave　me　a　chance　first；　because　unfortunately　I　go　to…
morrow　to　Bigwood。'

〃'And　your　chance　has　only　proved　a　chance　to　lose　it？'

〃'I　haven't　lost　it。　　I　remember　now　…　it　was　very　stupid　of　me　to　
have　forgotten。　　I　told　my　maid　to　give　it　to　Lord　Dorimont　…　or　at　
least　to　his　man。'

〃'And　Lord　Dorimont　went　away　directly　after　luncheon。'

〃'Of　course　he　gave　it　back　to　my　maid　…　or　else　his　man　did；'　said　
Lady　Augusta。　　'I　dare　say　it's　all　right。'

〃The　conscience　of　these　people　is　like　a　summer　sea。　　They　haven't　
time　to　look　over　a　priceless　composition；　they've　only　time　to　
kick　it　about　the　house。　　I　suggested　that　the　'man；'　fired　with　a　
noble　emulation；　had　perhaps　kept　the　work　for　his　own　perusal；　and　
her　ladyship　wanted　to　know　whether；　if　the　thing　shouldn't　
reappear　for　the　grand　occasion　appointed　by　our　hostess；　the　
author　wouldn't　have　something　else　to　read　that　would　do　just　as　
well。　　Their　questions　are　too　delightful！　　I　declared　to　Lady　
Augusta　briefly　that　nothing　in　the　world　can　ever　do　so　well　as　
the　thing　that　does　best；　and　at　this　she　looked　a　little　
disconcerted。　　But　I　added　that　if　the　manuscript　had　gone　astray　
our　little　circle　would　have　the　less　of　an　effort　of　attention　to　
make。　　The　piece　in　question　was　very　long　…　it　would　keep　them　
three　hours。

〃'Three　hours！　　Oh　the　Princess　will　get　up！'　said　Lady　Augusta。

〃'I　thought　she　was　Mr。　Paraday's　greatest　admirer。'

〃'I　dare　say　she　is　…　she's　so　awfully　clever。　　But　what's　the　use　
of　being　a　Princess　…　'

〃'If　you　can't　dissemble　your　love？'　I　asked　as　Lady　Augusta　was　
vague。　　She　said　at　any　rate　she'd　question　her　maid；　and　I'm　
hoping　that　when　I　go　down　to　dinner　I　shall　find　the　manuscript　
has　been　recovered。〃



CHAPTER　X。



〃IT　has　NOT　been　recovered；〃　I　wrote　early　the　next　day；　〃and　I'm　
moreover　much　troubled　about　our　friend。　　He　came　back　from　Bigwood　
with　a　chill　and；　being　allowed　to　have　a　fire　in　his　room；　lay　
down　a　while　before　dinner。　　I　tried　to　send　him　to　bed　and