dream days- 第9部分

never　brooded；　moped；　nor　ate　his　heart　out　over　any

disappointment。　　One　wild　outburstone　dissolution　of　a　minute

into　his　original　elements　of　air　and　water；　of　tears　and

outcryso　much　insulted　nature　claimed。　　Then　he　would　pull

himself　together；　iron　out　his　countenance　with　a　smile；　and

adjust　himself　to　the　new　condition　of　things。



If　the　gods　are　ever　grateful　to　man　for　anything；　it　is　when　he

is　so　good　as　to　display　a　short　memory。　　The　Olympians　were

never　slow　to　recognize　this　quality　of　Harold's；　in　which；

indeed；　their　salvation　lay；　and　on　this　occasion　their　gratitude

had　taken　the　practical　form　of　a　fine　fat　orange；　tough…

rinded　as　oranges　of　those　days　were　wont　to　be。　　This　he　had

eviscerated　in　the　good　old…fashioned　manner；　by　biting　out　a

hole　in　the　shoulder；　inserting　a　lump　of　sugar　therein；　and　then

working　it　cannily　till　the　whole　soul　and　body　of　the　orange

passed　glorified　through　the　sugar　into　his　being。　　Thereupon；

filled　full　of　orange…juice　and　iniquity；　he　conceived　a　deadly

snare。　　Having　deftly　patted　and　squeezed　the　orange…skin　till　it

resumed　its　original　shape；　he　filled　it　up　with　water；　inserted

a　fresh　lump　of　sugar　in　the　orifice；　and；　issuing　forth；　blandly

proffered　it　to　me　as　I　sat　moodily　in　the　doorway　dreaming　of

strange　wild　circuses　under　tropic　skies。



Such　a　stale　old　dodge　as　this　would　hardly　have　taken　me　in　at

ordinary　moments。　　But　Harold　had　reckoned　rightly　upon　the

disturbing　effect　of　ill…humour；　and　had　guessed；　perhaps；　that　I

thirsted　for　comfort　and　consolation；　and　would　not　criticise

too　closely　the　source　from　which　they　came。　　Unthinkingly　I

grasped　the　golden　fraud；　which　collapsed　at　my　touch；　and

squirted　its　contents　into　my　eyes　and　over　my　collar；　till　the

nethermost　parts　of　me　were　damp　with　the　water　that　had　run　down

my　neck。　　In　an　instant　I　had　Harold　down；　and；　with　all　the

energy　of　which　I　was　capable；　devoted　myself　to　grinding　his

head　into　the　gravel；　while　he；　realizing　that　the　closure　was

applied；　and　that　the　time　for　discussion　or　argument　was　past；

sternly　concentrated　his　powers　on　kicking　me　in　the　stomach。



Some　people　can　never　allow　events　to　work　themselves　out

quietly。　　At　this　juncture　one　of　Them　swooped　down　on　the　scene；

pouring　shrill；　misplaced　abuse　on　both　of　us：　on　me　for　ill…

treating　my　younger　brother；　whereas　it　was　distinctly　I　who　was

the　injured　and　the　deceived；　on　him　for　the　high　offence　of

assault　and　battery　on　a　clean　collara　collar　which　I　had

myself　deflowered　and　defaced；　shortly　before；　in　sheer　desperate

ill…temper。　　Disgusted　and　defiant　we　fled　in　different

directions；　rejoining　each　other　later　in　the　kitchen…garden；　and

as　we　strolled　along　together；　our　short　feud　forgotten；　Harold

observed；　gloomily：　　〃I　should　like　to　be　a　cave…man；　like　Uncle

George　was　tellin'　us　about：　with　a　flint　hatchet　and　no　clothes；

and　live　in　a　cave　and　not　know　anybody！〃



〃And　if　anyone　came　to　see　us　we　didn't　like；〃　I　joined　in；

catching　on　to　the　points　of　the　idea；　〃we'd　hit　him　on　the　head

with　the　hatchet　till　he　dropped　down　dead。〃



〃And　then；〃　said　Harold；　warming　up；　〃we'd　drag　him　into　the　cave

and　SKIN　HIM！〃



For　a　space　we　gloated　silently　over　the　fair　scene　our

imaginations　had　conjured　up。　　It　was　BLOOD　we　felt　the

need　of　just　then。　　We　wanted　no　luxuries；　nothing　dear…bought

nor　far…fetched。　　Just　plain　blood；　and　nothing　else；　and　plenty

of　it。



Blood；　however；　was　not　to　be　had。　　The　time　was　out　of　joint；

and　we　had　been　born　too　late。　　So　we　went　off　to　the　greenhouse；

crawled　into　the　heating　arrangement　underneath；　and　played　at

the　dark　and　dirty　and　unrestricted　life　of　cave…men　till　we　were

heartily　sick　of　it。　　Then　we　emerged　once　more　into　historic

times；　and　went　off　to　the　road　to　look　for　something　living　and

sentient　to　throw　stones　at。



Nature；　so　often　a　cheerful　ally；　sometimes　sulks　and　refuses　to

play。　　When　in　this　mood　she　passes　the　word　to　her　underlings；

and　all　the　little　people　of　fur　and　feather　take　the　hint　and

slip　home　quietly　by　back　streets。　　In　vain　we　scouted；　lurked；

crept；　and　ambuscaded。　　Everything　that　usually　scurried；　hopped；

or　flutteredthe　small　society　of　the　undergrowthseemed　to

have　engagements　elsewhere。　　The　horrid　thought　that　perhaps　they

had　all　gone　off　to　the　circus　occurred　to　us　simultaneously；　and

we　humped　ourselves　up　on　the　fence　and　felt　bad。　　Even　the　sound

of　approaching　wheels　failed　to　stir　any　interest　in　us。　　When

you　are　bent　on　throwing　stones　at　something；　humanity　seems

obtrusive　and　better　away。　　Then　suddenly　we　both　jumped　off　the

fence　together；　our　faces　clearing。　　For　our　educated　ear　had

told　us　that　the　approaching　rattle　could　only　proceed　from　a

dog…cart；　and　we　felt　sure　it　must　be　the　funny　man。



We　called　him　the　funny　man　because　he　was　sad　and　serious；　and

said　little；　but　gazed　right　into　our　souls；　and　made　us　tell　him

just　what　was　on　our　minds　at　the　time；　and　then　came　out　with

some　magnificently　luminous　suggestion　that　cleared　every

cloud　away。　　What　was　more　he　would　then　go　off　with　us　at　once

and　play　the　thing　right　out　to　its　finish；　earnestly　and

devotedly；　putting　all　other　things　aside。　　So　we　called　him　the

funny　man；　meaning　only　that　he　was　different　from　those　others

who　thought　it　incumbent　on　them　to　play　the　painful　mummer。　　The

ideal　as　opposed　to　the　real　man　was　what　we　meant；　only　we　were

not　acquainted　with　the　phrase。　　Those　others；　with　their

laboured　jests　and　clumsy　contortions；　doubtless　flattered

themselves　that　THEY　were　funny　men；　we；　who　had　to　sit

through　and　applaud　the　painful　performance；　knew　better。



He　pulled　up　to　a　walk　as　soon　as　he　caught　sight　of　us；　and　the

dog…cart　crawled　slowly　along　till　it　stopped　just　opposite。　

Then　he　leant　his　chin　on　his　hand　and　regarded　us　long　and

soulfully；　yet　said　he　never　a　word；　while　we　jigged　up　and

down　in　the　dust；　grinning　bashfully　but　with　expectation。　　For

you　never　knew　exactly　what　this　man　might　say　or　do。



〃You　look　bored；〃　he　remarked　presently；　〃thoroughly　bored。　　Or

elselet　me　see；　you're　not　married；　are　you？〃



He　asked　this　in　such　sad　earnestness　that　we　hastened　to　assure

him　we　were　not　married；　though　we　felt　he　ought　to　have　known

that　much；　we　had　been　intimate　for　some　time。



〃Then　it's　only　boredom；〃　he　said。　　〃Just　satiety　and　world…

weariness。　　Well；　if　you　assure　me　you　aren't　married　you　can

climb　into　this　cart　and　I'll　take　you　for　a　drive。　　I'm　bored；

too。　　I　want　to　do　something　dark　and　dreadful　and　exciting。〃



We　clambered　in；　of　course；　yapping　with　delight　and　treading　all

over　his　toes；　and　as　we　set　off；　Harold　demanded　of　him

imperiously　whither　he　was　going。



〃My　wife；〃　he　replied；　〃has　ordered　me　to　go　and　look　up　the

curate　and　bring　him　home　to　tea。　　Does　that　sound　sufficiently

exciting　for　you？〃



Our　faces　fell。　　The　curate　of　the　hour　was　not　a　success；　from

our　point　of　view。　　He　was　not　a　funny　man；　in　any　sense　of　the

word。



〃but　I'm　not　going　to；〃　he　added；　cheerfully。　　〃Then　I　was　to

stop　at　some　cottage　and　askwhat　was　it？　　There　was　NETTLE…

RASH　mixed　up　in　it；　I'm　sure。　　But　never　mind；　I've　forgotten；

and　it　doesn't　matter。　　Look　here；　we're　three　desperate　young

fellows　who　stick　at　nothing。　　Suppose　we　go　off　to　the　circus？〃



Of　certain　supreme　moments　it　is　not　easy　to　write。　　The　varying

shades　and　currents　of　emotion　may　indeed　be　put　into　words　by

those　specially　skilled　that　way；　they　often　are；　at　considerable

length。　　But　the　sheer；　crude　article　itselfthe　strong；

live　thing　that　leaps　up　inside　you　and　swells　and　strangles　you；

the　dizziness　of　revulsion　that　takes　the　breath　like　cold

waterwho　shall　depict　this　and　live？　　All　I　knew　was　that　I

would　have　died　then　and　there；　cheerfully；　for　the　funny　man；

that　I　longed　for　red　Indians　to　spring　out　from　the　hedge　on　the

dog…cart；　just　to　show　what　I　would　do；　and　that；　with　all　this；

I　could　not　find　the　least　little　word　to　say　to　him。



Harold　was　less　taciturn。　　With　shrill　voice；　uplifted　in　solemn

chant；　he　sang　the　great　spheral　circus…song；　and　the　undying

glory　of　the　Ring。　　Of　its　timeless　beginning　he　sang；　of　its

fashioning　by　cosmic　forces；　and　of　its　harmony　with　the　stellar

plan。　　Of　horses　he　sang；　of　their　strength；　their　swiftness；　and

their　docility　as　to　tricks。　　Of　clowns　again；　of　the　glory　of

knavery；　and　of　the　eternal　type　that　shall　endure。　　Lastly

he　sang　of　Herthe　Woman　of　the　Ringflawless；　complete；

untrammelled　in　each　subtly　curving　limb；　earth's　highest　output；

time's　noblest　expression。　　At　least；　he　doubtless　sang　all

these　things　and　morehe　certainly　seemed　to；　though　all　that

was　distinguishable　was；　〃We're…goin'…to…the…circus！〃　and　then；

once　more；　〃We're…goin'…to…the…circus！〃the　sweet　rhythmic