the unbearable bassington- 第11部分

accessories　on　the　wicker　table；　and　quietly　receded　from　the　

landscape。　　Elaine　sat　like　a　grave　young　goddess　about　to　dispense　

some　mysterious　potion　to　her　devotees。　　Her　mind　was　still　sitting　

in　judgment　on　the　Jewish　question。



Comus　scrambled　to　his　feet。



〃It's　too　hot　for　tea；〃　he　said；　〃I　shall　go　and　feed　the　swans。〃



And　he　walked　off　with　a　little　silver　basket…dish　containing　brown　

bread…and…butter。



Elaine　laughed　quietly。



〃It's　so　like　Comus；〃　she　said；　〃to　go　off　with　our　one　dish　of　

bread…and…butter。〃



Youghal　chuckled　responsively。　　It　was　an　undoubted　opportunity　for　

him　to　put　in　some　disparaging　criticism　of　Comus；　and　Elaine　sat　

alert　in　readiness　to　judge　the　critic　and　reserve　judgment　on　the　

criticised。



〃His　selfishness　is　splendid　but　absolutely　futile；〃　said　Youghal；　

〃now　my　selfishness　is　commonplace；　but　always　thoroughly　practical　

and　calculated。　　He　will　have　great　difficulty　in　getting　the　swans　

to　accept　his　offering；　and　he　incurs　the　odium　of　reducing　us　to　a　

bread…and…butterless　condition。　　Incidentally　he　will　get　very　

hot。〃



Elaine　again　had　the　sense　of　being　thoroughly　baffled。　　If　Youghal　

had　said　anything　unkind　it　was　about　himself。



〃If　my　cousin　Suzette　had　been　here；〃　she　observed；　with　the　shadow　

of　a　malicious　smile　on　her　lips；　〃I　believe　she　would　have　gone　

into　a　flood　of　tears　at　the　loss　of　her　bread…and…butter；　and　

Comus　would　have　figured　ever　after　in　her　mind　as　something　black　

and　destroying　and　hateful。　　In　fact　I　don't　really　know　why　we　

took　our　loss　so　unprotestingly。〃



〃For　two　reasons；〃　said　Youghal；　〃you　are　rather　fond　of　Comus。　　

And　I　…　am　not　very　fond　of　bread…and…butter。〃



The　jesting　remark　brought　a　throb　of　pleasure　to　Elaine's　heart。　　

She　had　known　full　well　that　she　cared　for　Comus；　but　now　that　

Courtenay　Youghal　had　openly　proclaimed　the　fact　as　something　

unchallenged　and　understood　matters　seemed　placed　at　once　on　a　more　

advanced　footing。　　The　warm　sunlit　garden　grew　suddenly　into　a　

Heaven　that　held　the　secret　of　eternal　happiness。　　Youth　and　

comeliness　would　always　walk　here；　under　the　low…boughed　mulberry　

trees；　as　unchanging　as　the　leaden　otter　that　for　ever　preyed　on　

the　leaden　salmon　on　the　edge　of　the　old　fountain；　and　somehow　the　

lovers　would　always　wear　the　aspect　of　herself　and　the　boy　who　was　

talking　to　the　four　white　swans　by　the　water　steps。　　Youghal　was　

right；　this　was　the　real　Heaven　of　one's　dreams　and　longings；　

immeasurably　removed　from　that　Rue　de　la　Paix　Paradise　about　which　

one　professed　utterly　insincere　hankerings　in　places　of　public　

worship。　　Elaine　drank　her　tea　in　a　happy　silence；　besides　being　a　

brilliant　talker　Youghal　understood　the　rarer　art　of　being　a　non…

talker　on　occasion。



Comus　came　back　across　the　grass　swinging　the　empty　basket…dish　in　

his　hand。



〃Swans　were　very　pleased；〃　he　cried；　gaily；　〃and　said　they　hoped　I　

would　keep　the　bread…and…butter　dish　as　a　souvenir　of　a　happy　tea…

party。　　I　may　really　have　it；　mayn't　I？〃　he　continued　in　an　anxious　

voice；　〃it　will　do　to　keep　studs　and　things　in。　　You　don't　want　

it。〃



〃It's　got　the　family　crest　on　it；〃　said　Elaine。　　Some　of　the　

happiness　had　died　out　of　her　eyes。



〃I'll　have　that　scratched　off　and　my　own　put　on；〃　said　Comus。



〃It's　been　in　the　family　for　generations；〃　protested　Elaine；　who　

did　not　share　Comus's　view　that　because　you　were　rich　your　lesser　

possessions　could　have　no　value　in　your　eyes。



〃I　want　it　dreadfully；〃　said　Comus；　sulkily；　〃and　you've　heaps　of　

other　things　to　put　bread…and…butter　in。〃



For　the　moment　he　was　possessed　by　an　overmastering　desire　to　keep　

the　dish　at　all　costs；　a　look　of　greedy　determination　dominated　his　

face；　and　he　had　not　for　an　instant　relaxed　his　grip　of　the　coveted　

object。



Elaine　was　genuinely　angry　by　this　time；　and　was　busily　telling　

herself　that　it　was　absurd　to　be　put　out　over　such　a　trifle；　at　the　

same　moment　a　sense　of　justice　was　telling　her　that　Comus　was　

displaying　a　good　deal　of　rather　shabby　selfishness。　　And　somehow　

her　chief　anxiety　at　the　moment　was　to　keep　Courtenay　Youghal　from　

seeing　that　she　was　angry。



〃I　know　you　don't　really　want　it；　so　I'm　going　to　keep　it；〃　

persisted　Comus。　



〃It's　too　hot　to　argue；〃　said　Elaine。



〃Happy　mistress　of　your　destinies；〃　laughed　Youghal；　〃you　can　suit　

your　disputations　to　the　desired　time　and　temperature。　　I　have　to　

go　and　argue；　or　what　is　worse；　listen　to　other　people's　arguments；　

in　a　hot　and　doctored　atmosphere　suitable　to　an　invalid　lizard。〃



〃You　haven't　got　to　argue　about　a　bread…and…butter　dish；〃　said　

Elaine。



〃Chiefly　about　bread…and…butter；〃　said　Youghal；　〃our　great　

preoccupation　is　other　people's　bread…and…butter。　　They　earn　or　

produce　the　material；　but　we　busy　ourselves　with　making　rules　how　

it　shall　be　cut　up；　and　the　size　of　the　slices；　and　how　much　butter　

shall　go　on　how　much　bread。　　That　is　what　is　called　legislation。　　

If　we　could　only　make　rules　as　to　how　the　bread…and…butter　should　

be　digested　we　should　be　quite　happy。〃



Elaine　had　been　brought　up　to　regard　Parliaments　as　something　to　be　

treated　with　cheerful　solemnity；　like　illness　or　family　re…unions。　　

Youghal's　flippant　disparagement　of　the　career　in　which　he　was　

involved　did　not；　however；　jar　on　her　susceptibilities。　　She　knew　

him　to　be　not　only　a　lively　and　effective　debater　but　an　

industrious　worker　on　committees。　　If　he　made　light　of　his　labours；　

at　least　he　afforded　no　one　else　a　loophole　for　doing　so。　　And　

certainly；　the　Parliamentary　atmosphere　was　not　inviting　on　this　

hot　afternoon。



〃When　must　you　go？〃　she　asked；　sympathetically。



Youghal　looked　ruefully　at　his　watch。　　Before　he　could　answer；　a　

cheerful　hoot　came　through　the　air；　as　of　an　owl　joyously　

challenging　the　sunlight　with　a　foreboding　of　the　coming　night。　　He　

sprang　laughing　to　his　feet。



〃Listen！　　My　summons　back　to　my　galley；〃　he　cried。　　〃The　Gods　have　

given　me　an　hour　in　this　enchanted　garden；　so　I　must　not　complain。〃



Then　in　a　lower　voice　he　almost　whispered；　〃It's　the　Persian　debate　

to…night；〃



It　was　the　one　hint　he　had　given　in　the　midst　of　his　talking　and　

laughing　that　he　was　really　keenly　enthralled　in　the　work　that　lay　

before　him。　　It　was　the　one　little　intimate　touch　that　gave　Elaine　

the　knowledge　that　he　cared　for　her　opinion　of　his　work。



Comus；　who　had　emptied　his　cigarette…case；　became　suddenly　

clamorous　at　the　prospect　of　being　temporarily　stranded　without　a　

smoke。　　Youghal　took　the　last　remaining　cigarette　from　his　own　case　

and　gravely　bisected　it。



〃Friendship　could　go　no　further；〃　he　observed；　as　he　gave　one…half　

to　the　doubtfully　appeased　Comus；　and　lit　the　other　himself。



〃There　are　heaps　more　in　the　hall；〃　said　Elaine。



〃It　was　only　done　for　the　Saint　Martin　of　Tours　effect；〃　said　

Youghal；　〃I　hate　smoking　when　I'm　rushing　through　the　air。　　Good…

bye。〃



The　departing　galley…slave　stepped　forth　into　the　sunlight；　radiant　

and　confident。　　A　few　minutes　later　Elaine　could　see　glimpses　of　

his　white　car　as　it　rushed　past　the　rhododendron　bushes。　　He　woos　

best　who　leaves　first；　particularly　if　he　goes　forth　to　battle　or　

the　semblance　of　battle。



Somehow　Elaine's　garden　of　Eternal　Youth　had　already　become　clouded　

in　its　imagery。　　The　girl…figure　who　walked　in　it　was　still　

distinctly　and　unchangingly　herself；　but　her　companion　was　more　

blurred　and　undefined；　as　a　picture　that　has　been　superimposed　on　

another。



Youghal　sped　townward　well　satisfied　with　himself。　　To…morrow；　he　

reflected；　Elaine　would　read　his　speech　in　her　morning　paper；　and　

he　knew　in　advance　that　it　was　not　going　to　be　one　of　his　worst　

efforts。　　He　knew　almost　exactly　where　the　punctuations　of　laughter　

and　applause　would　burst　in；　he　knew　that　nimble　fingers　in　the　

Press　Gallery　would　be　taking　down　each　gibe　and　argument　as　he　

flung　it　at　the　impassive　Minister　confronting　him；　and　that　the　

fair　lady　of　his　desire　would　be　able　to　judge　what　manner　of　young　

man　this　was　who　spent　his　afternoon　in　her　garden；　lazily　chaffing　

himself　and　his　world。



And　he　further　reflected；　with　an　amused　chuckle；　that　she　would　be　

vividly　reminded　of　Comus　for　days　to　come；　when　she　took　her　

afternoon　tea；　and　saw　the　bread…and…butter　reposing　in　an　

unaccustomed　dish。







CHAPTER　VII







TOWARDS　four　o'clock　on　a　hot　afternoon　Francesca　stepped　out　from　

a　shop　entrance　near　the　Piccadilly　end　of　Bond　Street　and　ran　

almost　into　the　arms　of　Merla　Blathlington。　　The　afternoon　seemed　

to　get　instantly　hotter。　　Merla　was　one　of　those　human　flies　that　

buzz；　in　crowded　streets；　at　bazaars　and　in　warm　weather；　she　

attained　to　the　proportions　of　a　human　bluebottle。　　Lady　Caroline　

Benaresq　had　openly　predicted