the patrician-第47节

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illness；　he　still　felt　a　yearning；　almost　painful；　towards　the
movement　and　stir　of　the　town。　　Everything　he　heard　and　saw　made　an
intensely　vivid　impression。　　The　lions　in　Trafalgar　Square；　the　great
buildings　of　Whitehall；　filled　him　with　a　sort　of　exultation。　　He　was
like　a　man；　who；　after　a　long　sea　voyage；　first　catches　sight　of
land；　and　stands　straining　his　eyes；　hardly　breathing；　taking　in　one
by　one　the　lost　features　of　that　face。　　He　walked　on　to　Westminster
Bridge；　and　going　to　an　embrasure　in　the　very　centre；　looked　back
towards　the　towers。

It　was　said　that　the　love　of　those　towers　passed　into　the　blood。　　It
was　said　that　he　who　had　sat　beneath　them　could　never　again　be　quite
the　same。　　Miltoun　knew　that　it　was　truedesperately　true；　of
himself。　　In　person　he　had　sat　there　but　three　weeks；　but　in　soul　he
seemed　to　have　been　sitting　there　hundreds　of　years。　　And　now　he
would　sit　there　no　more！　　An　almost　frantic　desire　to　free　himself
from　this　coil　rose　up　within　him。　　To　be　held　a　prisoner　by　that
most　secret　of　all　his　instincts；　the　instinct　for　authority！　　To　be
unable　to　wield　authority　because　to　wield　authority　was　to　insult
authority。　　God！　　It　was　hard！　　He　turned　his　back　on　the　towers；　and
sought　distraction　in　the　faces　of　the　passers…by。

Each　of　these；　he　knew；　had　his　struggle　to　keep　self…respect！　　Or
was　it　that　they　were　unconscious　of　struggle　or　of　self…respect；　and
just　let　things　drift？　　They　looked　like　that；　most　of　them！　　And　all
his　inherent　contempt　for　the　average　or　common　welled　up　as　he
watched　them。　　Yes；　they　looked　like　that！　　Ironically；　the　sight　of
those　from　whom　he　had　desired　the　comfort　of　compromise；　served
instead　to　stimulate　that　part　of　him　which　refused　to　let　him
compromise。　　They　looked　soft；　soggy；　without　pride　or　will；　as
though　they　knew　that　life　was　too　much　for　them；　and　had　shamefully
accepted　the　fact。　　They　so　obviously　needed　to　be　told　what　they
might　do；　and　which　way　they　should；　go；　they　would　accept　orders　as
they　accepted　their　work；　or　pleasures：　And　the　thought　that　he　was
now　debarred　from　the　right　to　give　them　orders；　rankled　in　him
furiously。　　They；　in　their　turn；　glanced　casually　at　his　tall　figure
leaning　against　the　parapet；　not　knowing　how　their　fate　was　trembling
in　the　balance。　　His　thin；　sallow　face；　and　hungry　eyes　gave　one　or
two　of　them　perhaps　a　feeling　of　interest　or　discomfort；　but　to　most
he　was　assuredly　no　more　than　any　other　man　or　woman　in　the　hurly…
burly。　　That　dark　figure　of　conscious　power　struggling　in　the　fetters
of　its　own　belief　in　power；　was　a　piece　of　sculpture　they　had　neither
time　nor　wish　to　understand；　having　no　taste　for　tragedyfor
witnessing　the　human　spirit　driven　to　the　wall。

It　was　five　o'clock　before　Miltoun　left　the　Bridge；　and　passed；　like
an　exile；　before　the　gates　of　Church　and　State；　on　his　way　to　his
uncle's　Club。　　He　stopped　to　telegraph　to　Audrey　the　time　he　would　be
coming　to…morrow　afternoon；　and　on　leaving　the　Post…Office；　noticed
in　the　window　of　the　adjoining　shop　some　reproductions　of　old　Italian
masterpieces；　amongst　them　one　of　Botticelli's　'Birth　of　Venus。'　　He
had　never　seen　that　picture；　and；　remembering　that　she　had　told　him
it　was　her　favourite；　he　stopped　to　look　at　it。　　Averagely　well
versed　in　such　matters；　as　became　one　of　his　caste；　Miltoun　had　not
the　power　of　letting　a　work　of　art　insidiously　steal　the　private　self
from　his　soul；　and　replace　it　with　the　self　of　all　the　world；　and　he
examined　this　far…famed　presentment　of　the　heathen　goddess　with
aloofness；　even　irritation。　　The　drawing　of　the　body　seemed　to　him
crude；　the　whole　picture　a　little　flat　and　Early；　he　did　not　like　the
figure　of　the　Flora。　　The　golden　serenity；　and　tenderness；　of　which
she　had　spoken；　left　him　cold。　　Then　he　found　himself　looking　at　the
face；　and　slowly；　but　with　uncanny　certainty；　began　to　feel　that　he
was　looking　at　the　face　of　Audrey　herself。　　The　hair　was　golden　and
different；　the　eyes　grey　and　different；　the　mouth　a　little　fuller；
yetit　was　her　face；　the　same　oval　shape；　the　same　far…apart；　arched
brows；　the　same　strangely　tender；　elusive　spirit。　　And；　as　though
offended；　he　turned　and　walked　on。　　In　the　window　of　that　little　shop
was　the　effigy　of　her　for　whom　he　had　bartered　away　his　lifethe
incarnation　of　passive　and　entwining　love；　that　gentle　creature；　who
had　given　herself　to　him　so　utterly；　for　whom　love；　and　the　flowers；
and　trees；　and　birds；　music；　the　sky；　and　the　quick…flowing　streams；
were　all…sufficing；　and　who；　like　the　goddess　in　the　picture；　seemed
wondering　at　her　own　existence。　　He　had　a　sudden　glimpse　of
understanding；　strange　indeed　in　one　who　had　so　little　power　of
seeing　into　others'　hearts：　Ought　she　ever　to　have　been　born　into　a
world　like　this？　　But　the　flash　of　insight　yielded　quickly　to　that
sickening　consciousness　of　his　own　position；　which　never　left　him
now。　　Whatever　else　he　did；　he　must　get　rid　of　that　malaise！　　But
what　could　he　do　in　that　coming　life？　　Write　books？　　What　sort　of
books　could　he　write？　　Only　such　as　expressed　his　views　of
citizenship；　his　political　and　social　beliefs。　　As　well　remain
sitting　and　speaking　beneath　those　towers！　　He　could　never　join　the
happy　band　of　artists；　those　soft　and　indeterminate　spirits；　for　whom
barriers　had　no　meaning；　content…to　understand；　interpret；　and
create。　　What　should　he　be　doing　in　that　galley？　　The　thought　was
inconceivable。　　A　career　at　the　Baryes；　he　might　take　that　up；　but
to　what　end？　　To　become　a　judge！　　As　well　continue　to　sit　beneath
those　towers！　　Too　late　for　diplomacy。　　Too　late　for　the　Army；
besides；　he　had　not　the　faintest　taste　for　military　glory。　　Bury
himself　in　the　country　like　Uncle　Dennis；　and　administer　one　of　his
father's　estates？　　It　would　be　death。　　Go　amongst　the　poor？　　For　a
moment　he　thought　he　had　found　a　new　vocation。　　But　in　what　capacity
to　order　their　lives；　when　he　himself　could　not　order　his　own；　or；
as　a　mere　conduit　pipe　for　money；　when　he　believed　that　charity　was
rotting　the　nation　to　its　core？　　At　the　head　of　every　avenue　stood　an
angel　or　devil　with　drawn　sword。　　And　then　there　came　to　him　another
thought。　　Since　he　was　being　cast　forth　from　Church　and　State；　could
he　not　play　the　fallen　spirit　like　a　manbe　Lucifer；　and　destroy！
And　instinctively　he　at　once　saw　himself　returning　to　those　towers；
and　beneath　them　crossing　the　floor；　joining　the　revolutionaries；　the
Radicals；　the　freethinkers；　scourging　his　present　Party；　the　party　of
authority　and　institutions。　　The　idea　struck　him　as　supremely　comic；
and　he　laughed　out　loud　in　the　street。。。。

The　Club　which　Lord　Dennis　frequented　was　in　St。　James's　untouched　by
the　tides　of　the　waters　of　fashionsteadily　swinging　to　its　moorings
in　a　quiet　backwater；　and　Miltoun　found　his　uncle　in　the　library。　　He
was　reading　a　volume　of　Burton's　travels；　and　drinking　tea。

〃Nobody　comes　here；〃　he　said；　〃so；　in　spite　of　that　word　on　the　door；
we　shall　talk。　　Waiter；　bring　some　more　tea；　please。〃

Impatiently；　but　with　a　sort　of　pity；　Miltoun　watched　Lord　Dennis's
urbane　movements；　wherein　old　age　was；　pathetically；　trying　to　make
each　little　thing　seem　important；　if　only　to　the　doer。　　Nothing　his
great…uncle　could　say　would　outweigh　the　warning　of　his　picturesque
old　figure！　　To　be　a　bystander；　to　see　it　all　go　past　you；　to　let
your　sword　rust　in　its　sheath；　as　this　poor　old　fellow　had　done！　　The
notion　of　explaining　what　he　had　come　about　was　particularly　hateful
to　Miltoun；　but　since　he　had　given　his　word；　he　nerved　himself　with
secret　anger；　and　began：

〃I　promised　my　mother　to　ask　you　a　question；　Uncle　Dennis。　　You　know
of　my　attachment；　I　believe？〃

Lord　Dennis　nodded。

〃Well；　I　have　joined　my　life　to　this　lady's。　　There　will　be　no
scandal；　but　I　consider　it　my　duty　to　resign　my　seat；　and　leave
public　life　alone。　　Is　that　right　or　wrong　according　to；　your　view？〃

Lord　Dennis　looked　at　his　nephew　in　silence。　　A　faint　flush　coloured
his　brown　cheeks。　　He　had　the　appearance　of　one　travelling　in　mind
over　the　past。

〃Wrong；　I　think；〃　he　said；　at　last。

〃Why；　if　I　may　ask？〃

〃I　have　not　the　pleasure　of　knowing　this　lady；　and　am　therefore
somewhat　in　the　dark；　but　it　appears　to　me　that　your　decision　is　not
fair　to　her。〃

〃That　is　beyond　me；〃　said　Miltoun。

Lord　Dennis　answered　firmly：

〃You　have　asked　me　a　frank　question；　expecting　a　frank　answer；　I
suppose？〃

Miltoun　nodded。

〃Then；　my　dear；　don't　blame　me　if　what　I　say　is　unpalatable。〃

〃I　shall　not。〃

〃Good！　　You　say　you　are　going　to　give　up　public　life　for　the　sake　of
your　conscience。　　I　should　have　no　criticism　to　make　if　it　stopped
there。〃

He　paused；　and　for　quite　a　minute　remained　silent；　evidently
searching　for　words　to　express　some　intricate　thread　of　thought。


〃But　it　won't；　Eustace；　the　public　man　in　you　is　far　stronger　than
the　other。　　You　want　leadership　more　than　you　want　love。　　Your
sacrifice　will　kill　your　affection；　what　you　imagine　is　your　loss　and
hurt；　will　prove　to　be　this　lady's　in　the　end。〃

Miltoun　smiled。

Lord　Dennis　continued　very　dryly　and　with　a　touch　of　malice：

〃You　are　not　listening　to　me；　but　I　can　see