the unbearable bassington-第17章

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greeting　old　acquaintances　and　friends；　from　ambassadors　down　to　

cobblers　in　the　social　scale。　　He　seldom　talked　of　his　travels；　but　

it　might　be　said　that　his　travels　talked　of　him；　there　was　an　air　

about　him　that　a　German　diplomat　once　summed　up　in　a　phrase：　〃a　man　

that　wolves　have　sniffed　at。〃



And　then　two　things　happened；　which　he　had　not　mapped　out　in　his　

route；　a　severe　illness　shook　half　the　life　and　all　the　energy　out　

of　him；　and　a　heavy　money　loss　brought　him　almost　to　the　door　of　

destitution。　　With　something；　perhaps；　of　the　impulse　which　drives　

a　stricken　animal　away　from　its　kind；　Tom　Keriway　left　the　haunts　

where　he　had　known　so　much　happiness；　and　withdrew　into　the　shelter　

of　a　secluded　farmhouse　lodging；　more　than　ever　he　became　to　Elaine　

a　hearsay　personality。　　And　now　the　chance　meeting　with　the　caravan　

had　flung　her　across　the　threshold　of　his　retreat。



〃What　a　charming　little　nook　you've　got　hold　of；〃　she　exclaimed　

with　instinctive　politeness；　and　then　looked　searchingly　round；　and　

discovered　that　she　had　spoken　the　truth；　it　really　was　charming。　　

The　farmhouse　had　that　intensely　English　look　that　one　seldom　sees　

out　of　Normandy。　　Over　the　whole　scene　of　rickyard；　garden；　

outbuildings；　horsepond　and　orchard；　brooded　that　air　which　seems　

rightfully　to　belong　to　out…of…the…way　farmyards；　an　air　of　wakeful　

dreaminess　which　suggests　that　here；　man　and　beast　and　bird　have　

got　up　so　early　that　the　rest　of　the　world　has　never　caught　them　up　

and　never　will。



Elaine　dismounted；　and　Keriway　led　the　mare　round　to　a　little　

paddock　by　the　side　of　a　great　grey　barn。　　At　the　end　of　the　lane　

they　could　see　the　show　go　past；　a　string　of　lumbering　vans　and　

great　striding　beasts　that　seemed　to　link　the　vast　silences　of　the　

desert　with　the　noises　and　sights　and　smells；　the　naphtha…flares　

and　advertisement　hoardings　and　trampled　orange…peel；　of　an　endless　

succession　of　towns。



〃You　had　better　let　the　caravan　pass　well　on　its　way　before　you　get　

on　the　road　again；〃　said　Keriway；　〃the　smell　of　the　beasts　may　make　

your　mare　nervous　and　restive　going　home。〃



Then　he　called　to　a　boy　who　was　busy　with　a　hoe　among　some　

defiantly　prosperous　weeds；　to　fetch　the　lady　a　glass　of　milk　and　a　

piece　of　currant　loaf。



〃I　don't　know　when　I've　seen　anything　so　utterly　charming　and　

peaceful；〃　said　Elaine；　propping　herself　on　a　seat　that　a　pear…tree　

had　obligingly　designed　in　the　fantastic　curve　of　its　trunk。



〃Charming；　certainly；〃　said　Keriway；　〃but　too　full　of　the　stress　of　

its　own　little　life　struggle　to　be　peaceful。　　Since　I　have　lived　

here　I've　learnt；　what　I've　always　suspected；　that　a　country　

farmhouse；　set　away　in　a　world　of　its　own；　is　one　of　the　most　

wonderful　studies　of　interwoven　happenings　and　tragedies　that　can　

be　imagined。　　It　is　like　the　old　chronicles　of　medieval　Europe　in　

the　days　when　there　was　a　sort　of　ordered　anarchy　between　feudal　

lords　and　overlords；　and　burg…grafs；　and　mitred　abbots；　and　prince…

bishops；　robber　barons　and　merchant　guilds；　and　Electors　and　so　

forth；　all　striving　and　contending　and　counter…plotting；　and　

interfering　with　each　other　under　some　vague　code　of　loosely…

applied　rules。　　Here　one　sees　it　reproduced　under　one's　eyes；　like　

a　musty　page　of　black…letter　come　to　life。　　Look　at　one　little　

section　of　it；　the　poultry…life　on　the　farm。　　Villa　poultry；　dull　

egg…machines；　with　records　kept　of　how　many　ounces　of　food　they　

eat；　and　how　many　pennyworths　of　eggs　they　lay；　give　you　no　idea　of　

the　wonder…life　of　these　farm…birds；　their　feuds　and　jealousies；　

and　carefully　maintained　prerogatives；　their　unsparing　tyrannies　

and　persecutions；　their　calculated　courage　and　bravado　or　

sedulously　hidden　cowardice；　it　might　all　be　some　human　chapter　

from　the　annals　of　the　old　Rhineland　or　medieval　Italy。　　And　then；　

outside　their　own　bickering　wars　and　hates；　the　grim　enemies　that　

come　up　against　them　from　the　woodlands；　the　hawk　that　dashes　among　

the　coops　like　a　moss…trooper　raiding　the　border；　knowing　well　that　

a　charge　of　shot　may　tear　him　to　bits　at　any　moment。　　And　the　

stoat；　a　creeping　slip　of　brown　fur　a　few　inches　long；　intently　and　

unstayably　out　for　blood。　　And　the　hunger…taught　master　of　craft；　

the　red　fox；　who　has　waited　perhaps　half　the　afternoon　for　his　

chance　while　the　fowls　were　dusting　themselves　under　the　hedge；　and　

just　as　they　were　turning　supper…ward　to　the　yard　one　has　stopped　a　

moment　to　give　her　feathers　a　final　shake　and　found　death　springing　

upon　her。　　Do　you　know；〃　he　continued；　as　Elaine　fed　herself　and　

the　mare　with　morsels　of　currant…loaf；　〃I　don't　think　any　tragedy　

in　literature　that　I　have　ever　come　across　impressed　me　so　much　as　

the　first　one；　that　I　spelled　out　slowly　for　myself　in　words　of　

three　letters：　the　bad　fox　has　got　the　red　hen。　　There　was　

something　so　dramatically　complete　about　it；　the　badness　of　the　

fox；　added　to　all　the　traditional　guile　of　his　race；　seemed　to　

heighten　the　horror　of　the　hen's　fate；　and　there　was　such　a　

suggestion　of　masterful　malice　about　the　word　'got。'　　One　felt　that　

a　countryside　in　arms　would　not　get　that　hen　away　from　the　bad　fox。　　

They　used　to　think　me　a　slow　dull　reader　for　not　getting　on　with　my　

lesson；　but　I　used　to　sit　and　picture　to　myself　the　red　hen；　with　

its　wings　beating　helplessly；　screeching　in　terrified　protest；　or　

perhaps；　if　he　had　got　it　by　the　neck；　with　beak　wide　agape　and　

silent；　and　eyes　staring；　as　it　left　the　farm…yard　for　ever。　　I　

have　seen　blood…spillings　and　down…crushings　and　abject　defeat　here　

and　there　in　my　time；　but　the　red　hen　has　remained　in　my　mind　as　

the　type　of　helpless　tragedy。〃　　He　was　silent　for　a　moment　as　if　he　

were　again　musing　over　the　three…letter　drama　that　had　so　dwelt　in　

his　childhood's　imagination。　　〃Tell　me　some　of　the　things　you　have　

seen　in　your　time；〃　was　the　request　that　was　nearly　on　Elaine's　

lips；　but　she　hastily　checked　herself　and　substituted　another。



〃Tell　me　more　about　the　farm；　please。〃



And　he　told　her　of　a　whole　world；　or　rather　of　several　intermingled　

worlds；　set　apart　in　this　sleepy　hollow　in　the　hills；　of　beast　lore　

and　wood　lore　and　farm　craft；　at　times　touching　almost　the　border　

of　witchcraft　…　passing　lightly　here；　not　with　the　probing　

eagerness　of　those　who　know　nothing；　but　with　the　averted　glance　of　

those　who　fear　to　see　too　much。　　He　told　her　of　those　things　that　

slept　and　those　that　prowled　when　the　dusk　fell；　of　strange　hunting　

cats；　of　the　yard　swine　and　the　stalled　cattle；　of　the　farm　folk　

themselves；　as　curious　and　remote　in　their　way；　in　their　ideas　and　

fears　and　wants　and　tragedies；　as　the　brutes　and　feathered　stock　

that　they　tended。　　It　seemed　to　Elaine　as　if　a　musty　store　of　old…

world　children's　books　had　been　fetched　down　from　some　cobwebbed　

lumber…room　and　brought　to　life。　　Sitting　there　in　the　little　

paddock；　grown　thickly　with　tall　weeds　and　rank　grasses；　and　

shadowed　by　the　weather…beaten　old　grey　barn；　listening　to　this　

chronicle　of　wonderful　things；　half　fanciful；　half　very　real；　she　

could　scarcely　believe　that　a　few　miles　away　there　was　a　garden…

party　in　full　swing；　with　smart　frocks　and　smart　conversation；　

fashionable　refreshments　and　fashionable　music；　and　a　fevered　

undercurrent　of　social　strivings　and　snubbings。　　Did　Vienna　and　the　

Balkan　Mountains　and　the　Black　Sea　seem　as　remote　and　hard　to　

believe　in；　she　wondered；　to　the　man　sitting　by　her　side；　who　had　

discovered　or　invented　this　wonderful　fairyland？　　Was　it　a　true　and　

merciful　arrangement　of　fate　and　life　that　the　things　of　the　moment　

thrust　out　the　after…taste　of　the　things　that　had　been？　　Here　was　

one　who　had　held　much　that　was　priceless　in　the　hollow　of　his　hand　

and　lost　it　all；　and　he　was　happy　and　absorbed　and　well…content　

with　the　little　wayside　corner　of　the　world　into　which　he　had　

crept。　　And　Elaine；　who　held　so　man