villa rubein and other stories-第50部分

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it？　　Could　he　face　all　that　he　had　been　through　that　morning；　face　it

day　after　day；　night　after　night？　　Looking　up；　he　saw　Rozsi　at　her

open　window　gazing　down　at　him；　never　had　she　looked　sweeter；　more

roguish。　　An　inexplicable　terror　seized　on　him；　he　ran　across　the

yard　and　jumped　into　his　carriage。　　〃To　Salzburg！〃　he　cried；　〃drive

on！〃　　And　rattling　out　of　the　yard　without　a　look　behind；　he　flung　a

sovereign　at　the　hostler。　　Flying　back　along　the　road　faster　even

than　he　had　come；　with　pale　face；　and　eyes　blank　and　staring　like　a

pug…dog's；　Swithin　spoke　no　single　word；　nor；　till　he　had　reached　the

door　of　his　lodgings；　did　he　suffer　the　driver　to　draw　rein。









XII



Towards　evening；　five　days　later；　Swithin；　yellow　and　travel…worn；

was　ferried　in　a　gondola　to　Danielli's　Hotel。　　His　brother；　who　was

on　the　steps；　looked　at　him　with　an　apprehensive　curiosity。



〃Why；　it's　you！〃　he　mumbled。　　〃So　you've　got　here　safe？〃



〃Safe？〃　growled　Swithin。



James　replied；　〃I　thought　you　wouldn't　leave　your　friends！〃　　Then；

with　a　jerk　of　suspicion；　〃You　haven't　brought　your　friends？〃



〃What　friends？〃　growled　Swithin。



James　changed　the　subject。　　〃You　don't　look　the　thing；〃　he　said。



〃Really！〃　muttered　Swithin；　〃what's　that　to　you？〃



He　appeared　at　dinner　that　night；　but　fell　asleep　over　his　coffee。

Neither　Traquair　nor　James　asked　him　any　further　question；　nor　did

they　allude　to　Salzburg；　and　during　the　four　days　which　concluded　the

stay　in　Venice　Swithin　went　about　with　his　head　up；　but　his　eyes

half…closed　like　a　dazed　man。　　Only　after　they　had　taken　ship　at

Genoa　did　he　show　signs　of　any　healthy　interest　in　life；　when；

finding　that　a　man　on　board　was　perpetually　strumming；　he　locked　the

piano　up　and　pitched　the　key　into　the　sea。



That　winter　in　London　he　behaved　much　as　usual；　but　fits　of

moroseness　would　seize　on　him；　during　which　he　was　not　pleasant　to

approach。



One　evening　when　he　was　walking　with　a　friend　in　Piccadilly；　a　girl

coming　from　a　side…street　accosted　him　in　German。　　Swithin；　after

staring　at　her　in　silence　for　some　seconds；　handed　her　a　five…pound

note；　to　the　great　amazement　of　his　friend；　nor　could　he　himself　have

explained　the　meaning　of　this　freak　of　generosity。



Of　Rozsi　he　never　heard　again。。。。



This；　then；　was　the　substance　of　what　he　remembered　as　he　lay　ill　in

bed。　　Stretching　out　his　hand　he　pressed　the　bell。　　His　valet

appeared；　crossing　the　room　like　a　cat；　a　Swede；　who　had　been　with

Swithin　many　years；　a　little　man　with　a　dried　face　and　fierce

moustache；　morbidly　sharp　nerves；　and　a　queer　devotion　to　his　master。



Swithin　made　a　feeble　gesture。　　〃Adolf；〃　he　said；　〃I'm　very　bad。〃



〃Yes；　sir！〃



〃Why　do　you　stand　there　like　a　cow？〃　asked　Swithin；　〃can't　you　see

I'm　very　bad？〃



〃Yes；　sir！〃　　The　valet's　face　twitched　as　though　it　masked　the　dance

of　obscure　emotions。



〃I　shall　feel　better　after　dinner。　　What　time　is　it？〃



〃Five　o'clock。〃



〃I　thought　it　was　more。　　The　afternoons　are　very　long。〃



〃Yes；　sir！〃Swithin　sighed；　as　though　he　had　expected　the　consolation

of　denial。



〃Very　likely　I　shall　have　a　nap。　　Bring　up　hot　water　at　half…past　six

and　shave　me　before　dinner。〃



The　valet　moved　towards　the　door。　　Swithin　raised　himself。



〃What　did　Mr。　James　say　to　you？〃



〃He　said　you　ought　to　have　another　doctor；　two　doctors；　he　said；

better　than　one。　　He　said；　also；　he　would　look　in　again　on　his　way

'home。'〃



Swithin　grunted；　〃Umph！　What　else　did　he　say？〃



〃He　said　you　didn't　take　care　of　yourself。〃



Swithin　glared。



〃Has　anybody　else　been　to　see　me？〃



The　valet　turned　away　his　eyes。　　〃Mrs。　Thomas　Forsyte　came　last

Monday　fortnight。〃



〃How　long　have　I　been　ill？〃



〃Five　weeks　on　Saturday。〃



〃Do　you　think　I'm　very　bad？〃



Adolf's　face　was　covered　suddenly　with　crow's…feet。　　〃You　have　no

business　to　ask　me　question　like　that！　　I　am　not　paid；　sir；　to　answer

question　like　that。〃



Swithin　said　faintly：　〃You're　a　peppery　fool！　　Open　a　bottle　of

champagne！〃



Adolf　took　a　bottle　of　champagnefrom　a　cupboard　and　held　nippers　to

it。　　He　fixed　his　eyes　on　Swithin。　　〃The　doctor　said〃



〃Open　the　bottle！〃



〃It　is　not〃



〃Open　the　bottleor　I　give　you　warning。〃



Adolf　removed　the　cork。　　He　wiped　a　glass　elaborately；　filled　it；　and

bore　it　scrupulously　to　the　bedside。　　Suddenly　twirling　his

moustaches；　he　wrung　his　hands；　and　burst　out：　〃It　is　poison。〃



Swithin　grinned　faintly。　　〃You　foreign　fool！〃　he　said。　　〃Get　out！〃



The　valet　vanished。



'He　forgot　himself！'　thought　Swithin。　　Slowly　he　raised　the　glass；

slowly　put　it　back；　and　sank　gasping　on　his　pillows。　　Almost　at　once

he　fell　asleep。



He　dreamed　that　he　was　at　his　club；　sitting　after　dinner　in　the

crowded　smoking…room；　with　its　bright　walls　and　trefoils　of　light。

It　was　there　that　he　sat　every　evening；　patient；　solemn；　lonely；　and

sometimes　fell　asleep；　his　square；　pale　old　face　nodding　to　one　side。

He　dreamed　that　he　was　gazing　at　the　picture　over　the　fireplace；　of

an　old　statesman　with　a　high　collar；　supremely　finished　face；　and

sceptical　eyebrowsthe　picture；　smooth；　and　reticent　as　sealing…wax；

of　one　who　seemed　for　ever　exhaling　the　narrow　wisdom　of　final

judgments。　　All　round　him；　his　fellow　members　were　chattering。　　Only

he　himself；　the　old　sick　member；　was　silent。　　If　fellows　only　knew

what　it　was　like　to　sit　by　yourself　and　feel　ill　all　the　time！　　What

they　were　saying　he　had　heard　a　hundred　times。　　They　were　talking　of

investments；　of　cigars；　horses；　actresses；　machinery。　　What　was　that？

A　foreign　patent　for　cleaning　boilers？　　There　was　no　such　thing；

boilers　couldn't　be　cleaned；　any　fool　knew　that！　　If　an　Englishman

couldn't　clean　a　boiler；　no　foreigner　could　clean　one。　　He　appealed

to　the　old　statesman's　eyes。　　But　for　once　those　eyes　seemed

hesitating；　blurred；　wanting　in　finality。　　They　vanished。　　In　their

place　were　Rozsi's　little　deep…set　eyes；　with　their　wide　and　far…off

look；　and　as　he　gazed　they　seemed　to　grow　bright　as　steel；　and　to

speak　to　him。　　Slowly　the　whole　face　grew　to　be　there；　floating　on

the　dark　background　of　the　picture；　it　was　pink；　aloof；　unfathomable；

enticing；　with　its　fluffy　hair　and　quick　lips；　just　as　he　had　last

seen　it。　　〃Are　you　looking　for　something？〃　she　seemed　to　say：　〃I

could　show　you。〃



〃I　have　everything　safe　enough；〃　answered　Swithin；　and　in　his　sleep

he　groaned。



He　felt　the　touch　of　fingers　on　his　forehead。　　'I'm　dreaming；'　he

thought　in　his　dream。



She　had　vanished；　and　far　away；　from　behind　the　picture；　came　a　sound

of　footsteps。



Aloud；　in　his　sleep；　Swithin　muttered：　〃I've　missed　it。〃



Again　he　heard　the　rustling　of　those　light　footsteps；　and　close　in

his　ear　a　sound；　like　a　sob。　　He　awoke；　the　sob　was　his　own。　　Great

drops　of　perspiration　stood　on　his　forehead。　　'What　is　it？'　he

thought；　'what　have　I　lost？'　　Slowly　his　mind　travelled　over　his

investments；　he　could　not　think　of　any　single　one　that　was　unsafe。

What　was　it；　then；　that　he　had　lost？　　Struggling　on　his　pillows；　he

clutched　the　wine…glass。　　His　lips　touched　the　wine。　　'This　isn't　the

〃Heidseck〃！'　he　thought　angrily；　and　before　the　reality　of　that

displeasure　all　the　dim　vision　passed　away。　　But　as　he　bent　to　drink；

something　snapped；　and；　with　a　sigh；　Swithin　Forsyte　died　above　the

bubbles。。。。



When　James　Forsyte　came　in　again　on　his　way　home；　the　valet；

trembling　took　his　hat　and　stick。



〃How's　your　master？〃



〃My　master　is　dead；　sir！〃



〃Dead！　He　can't　be！　　I　left　him　safe　an　hour　ago。



On　the　bed　Swithin's　body　was　doubled　like　a　sack；　his　hand　still

grasped　the　glass。



James　Forsyte　paused。　　〃Swithin！〃　he　said；　and　with　his　hand　to　his

ear　he　waited　for　an　answer；　but　none　came；　and　slowly　in　the　glass　a

last　bubble　rose　and　burst。



December　1900。















To



MY　SISTER



MABEL　EDITH　REYNOLDS











THE　SILENCE



I



In　a　car　of　the　Naples　express　a　mining　expert　was　diving　into　a　bag

for　papers。　　The　strong　sunlight　showed　the　fine　wrinkles　on　his

brown　face　and　the　shabbiness　of　his　short；　rough　beard。　　A　newspaper

cutting　slipped　from　his　fingers；　he　picked　it　up；　thinking：　'How　the

dickens　did　that　get　in　here？'　　It　was　from　a　colonial　print　of　three

years　back；　and　he　sat　staring；　as　if　in　that　forlorn　slip　of　yellow

paper　he　had　encountered　some　ghost　from　his　past。



These　were　the　words　he　read：　〃We　hope　that　the　setback　to

civilisation；　the　check　to　commerce　and　development；　in　this

promising　centre　of　our　colony　may　be　but　temporary；　and　that　capital

may　again　come　to　the　rescue。　　Where　one　man　was　successful；　others

should　surely　not　fail？　　We　are　convinced　that　it　only　needs。。。。〃

And　the　last　words：　〃For　what　can　be　sadder　than　to　see　the　forest

spreading　its　lengthening　shadows；　like　symbols　of　defeat；　over　the

untenanted　dwellings　of　men；　and　where　was　once　the　merry　chatter　of

human　voices；　to　pass　by　in　the　silence。。。。〃



On　an　afternoon；　thirteen　years　before；　he　had　been　in　the　city　of

London；　at　one　of　those　emporiums　where　mining　experts　perch；　before

fresh　flights；　like　sea…gulls　on　some　favourite　rock。　　A　clerk　said

to　him：　〃Mr。　Scorrier；　they　are　asking　for　you　downstairsMr。

Hemmings　of　the　New　Colliery　Company。〃



Scorrier　took　up　the　speaking　tube。　　〃Is　that　you；　Mr。　Scorrier？　　I

hope　you　are　very　well；　sir；　I　amHemmingsI　amcoming　up。〃



In　two　minutes　he　appeared；　Christopher　Hemmings；　secretary　of　the

New　Colliery　Company；　known　in　the　City…behind　his　backas　〃Down…by…

the…starn〃　Hemmings。　　He　grasped　Scorrier's　handthe　gesture　was

deferential；　yet　distinguished。　　Too　handsome；　too　capable；　too

important；　his　figure；　the　cut　of　his　iron…grey　beard；　and　his

intrusively　fine　eyes；　conveyed　a　continual　courteous　invitati