the unbearable bassington- 第3部分

Comus　was　not　a　favourite　with　his　uncle。



Francesca　had　turned　to　her　writing　cabinet　and　was　hastily　

scribbling　a　letter　to　her　son　in　which　the　delicate　health；　timid　

disposition　and　other　inevitable　attributes　of　the　new　boy　were　

brought　to　his　notice；　and　commanded　to　his　care。　　When　she　had　

sealed　and　stamped　the　envelope　Henry　uttered　a　belated　caution。



〃Perhaps　on　the　whole　it　would　be　wiser　to　say　nothing　about　the　

boy　to　Comus。　　He　doesn't　always　respond　to　directions　you　know。〃



Francesca　did　know；　and　already　was　more　than　half　of　her　brother's　

opinion；　but　the　woman　who　can　sacrifice　a　clean　unspoiled　penny　

stamp　is　probably　yet　unborn。







CHAPTER　II







LANCELOT　CHETROF　stood　at　the　end　of　a　long　bare　passage；　

restlessly　consulting　his　watch　and　fervently　wishing　himself　half　

an　hour　older　with　a　certain　painful　experience　already　registered　

in　the　past；　unfortunately　it　still　belonged　to　the　future；　and　

what　was　still　more　horrible；　to　the　immediate　future。　　Like　many　

boys　new　to　a　school　he　had　cultivated　an　unhealthy　passion　for　

obeying　rules　and　requirements；　and　his　zeal　in　this　direction　had　

proved　his　undoing。　　In　his　hurry　to　be　doing　two　or　three　

estimable　things　at　once　he　had　omitted　to　study　the　notice…board　

in　more　than　a　perfunctory　fashion　and　had　thereby　missed　a　

football　practice　specially　ordained　for　newly…joined　boys。　　His　

fellow　juniors　of　a　term's　longer　standing　had　graphically　

enlightened　him　as　to　the　inevitable　consequences　of　his　lapse；　the　

dread　which　attaches　to　the　unknown　was；　at　any　rate；　deleted　from　

his　approaching　doom；　though　at　the　moment　he　felt　scarcely　

grateful　for　the　knowledge　placed　at　his　disposal　with　such　lavish　

solicitude。



〃You'll　get　six　of　the　very　best；　over　the　back　of　a　chair；〃　said　

one。



〃They'll　draw　a　chalk　line　across　you；　of　course　you　know；〃　said　

another。



〃A　chalk　line？〃



〃Rather。　　So　that　every　cut　can　be　aimed　exactly　at　the　same　spot。　　

It　hurts　much　more　that　way。〃



Lancelot　tried　to　nourish　a　wan　hope　that　there　might　be　an　element　

of　exaggeration　in　this　uncomfortably　realistic　description。



Meanwhile　in　the　prefects'　room　at　the　other　end　of　the　passage；　

Comus　Bassington　and　a　fellow　prefect　sat　also　waiting　on　time；　but　

in　a　mood　of　far　more　pleasurable　expectancy。　　Comus　was　one　of　the　

most　junior　of　the　prefect　caste；　but　by　no　means　the　least　well…

known；　and　outside　the　masters'　common…room　he　enjoyed　a　certain　

fitful　popularity；　or　at　any　rate　admiration。　　At　football　he　was　

too　erratic　to　be　a　really　brilliant　player；　but　he　tackled　as　if　

the　act　of　bringing　his　man　headlong　to　the　ground　was　in　itself　a　

sensuous　pleasure；　and　his　weird　swear…words　whenever　he　got　hurt　

were　eagerly　treasured　by　those　who　were　fortunate　enough　to　hear　

them。　　At　athletics　in　general　he　was　a　showy　performer；　and　

although　new　to　the　functions　of　a　prefect　he　had　already　

established　a　reputation　as　an　effective　and　artistic　caner。　　In　

appearance　he　exactly　fitted　his　fanciful　Pagan　name。　　His　large　

green…grey　eyes　seemed　for　ever　asparkle　with　goblin　mischief　and　

the　joy　of　revelry；　and　the　curved　lips　might　have　been　those　of　

some　wickedly…laughing　faun；　one　almost　expected　to　see　embryo　

horns　fretting　the　smoothness　of　his　sleek　dark　hair。　　The　chin　was　

firm；　but　one　looked　in　vain　for　a　redeeming　touch　of　ill…temper　in　

the　handsome；　half…mocking；　half…petulant　face。　　With　a　strain　of　

sourness　in　him　Comus　might　have　been　leavened　into　something　

creative　and　masterful；　fate　had　fashioned　him　with　a　certain　

whimsical　charm；　and　left　him　all　unequipped　for　the　greater　

purposes　of　life。　　Perhaps　no　one　would　have　called　him　a　lovable　

character；　but　in　many　respects　he　was　adorable；　in　all　respects　he　

was　certainly　damned。



Rutley；　his　companion　of　the　moment；　sat　watching　him　and　

wondering；　from　the　depths　of　a　very　ordinary　brain；　whether　he　

liked　or　hated　him；　it　was　easy　to　do　either。



〃It's　not　really　your　turn　to　cane；〃　he　said。



〃I　know　it's　not；〃　said　Comus；　fingering　a　very　serviceable…looking　

cane　as　lovingly　as　a　pious　violinist　might　handle　his　Strad。　　〃I　

gave　Greyson　some　mint…chocolate　to　let　me　toss　whether　I　caned　or　

him；　and　I　won。　　He　was　rather　decent　over　it　and　let　me　have　half　

the　chocolate　back。〃



The　droll　lightheartedness　which　won　Comus　Bassington　such　measure　

of　popularity　as　he　enjoyed　among　his　fellows　did　not　materially　

help　to　endear　him　to　the　succession　of　masters　with　whom　he　came　

in　contact　during　the　course　of　his　schooldays。　　He　amused　and　

interested　such　of　them　as　had　the　saving　grace　of　humour　at　their　

disposal；　but　if　they　sighed　when　he　passed　from　their　immediate　

responsibility　it　was　a　sigh　of　relief　rather　than　of　regret。　　The　

more　enlightened　and　experienced　of　them　realised　that　he　was　

something　outside　the　scope　of　the　things　that　they　were　called　

upon　to　deal　with。　　A　man　who　has　been　trained　to　cope　with　storms；　

to　foresee　their　coming；　and　to　minimise　their　consequences；　may　be　

pardoned　if　he　feels　a　certain　reluctance　to　measure　himself　

against　a　tornado。



Men　of　more　limited　outlook　and　with　a　correspondingly　larger　

belief　in　their　own　powers　were　ready　to　tackle　the　tornado　had　

time　permitted。



〃I　think　I　could　tame　young　Bassington　if　I　had　your　

opportunities；〃　a　form…master　once　remarked　to　a　colleague　whose　

House　had　the　embarrassing　distinction　of　numbering　Comus　among　its　

inmates。



〃Heaven　forbid　that　I　should　try；〃　replied　the　housemaster。



〃But　why？〃　asked　the　reformer。



〃Because　Nature　hates　any　interference　with　her　own　arrangements；　

and　if　you　start　in　to　tame　the　obviously　untameable　you　are　taking　

a　fearful　responsibility　on　yourself。〃



〃Nonsense；　boys　are　Nature's　raw　material。〃



〃Millions　of　boys　are。　　There　are　just　a　few；　and　Bassington　is　one　

of　them；　who　are　Nature's　highly　finished　product　when　they　are　in　

the　schoolboy　stage；　and　we；　who　are　supposed　to　be　moulding　raw　

material；　are　quite　helpless　when　we　come　in　contact　with　them。〃



〃But　what　happens　to　them　when　they　grow　up？〃



〃They　never　do　grow　up；〃　said　the　housemaster；　〃that　is　their　

tragedy。　　Bassington　will　certainly　never　grow　out　of　his　present　

stage。〃



〃Now　you　are　talking　in　the　language　of　Peter　Pan；〃　said　the　form…

master。



〃I　am　not　thinking　in　the　manner　of　Peter　Pan；〃　said　the　other。　　

〃With　all　reverence　for　the　author　of　that　masterpiece　I　should　say　

he　had　a　wonderful　and　tender　insight　into　the　child　mind　and　knew　

nothing　whatever　about　boys。　　To　make　only　one　criticism　on　that　

particular　work；　can　you　imagine　a　lot　of　British　boys；　or　boys　of　

any　country　that　one　knows　of；　who　would　stay　contentedly　playing　

children's　games　in　an　underground　cave　when　there　were　wolves　and　

pirates　and　Red　Indians　to　be　had　for　the　asking　on　the　other　side　

of　the　trap　door？〃



The　form…master　laughed。　　〃You　evidently　think　that　the　'Boy　who　

would　not　grow　up'　must　have　been　written　by　a　'grown…up　who　could　

never　have　been　a　boy。'　　Perhaps　that　is　the　meaning　of　the　'Never…

never　Land。'　　I　daresay　you're　right　in　your　criticism；　but　I　don't　

agree　with　you　about　Bassington。　　He's　a　handful　to　deal　with；　as　

anyone　knows　who　has　come　in　contact　with　him；　but　if　one's　hands　

weren't　full　with　a　thousand　and　one　other　things　I　hold　to　my　

opinion　that　he　could　be　tamed。〃



And　he　went　his　way；　having　maintained　a　form…master's　inalienable　

privilege　of　being　in　the　right。



*　*　*　*　*



In　the　prefects'　room；　Comus　busied　himself　with　the　exact　position　

of　a　chair　planted　out　in　the　middle　of　the　floor。



〃I　think　everything's　ready；〃　he　said。



Rutley　glanced　at　the　clock　with　the　air　of　a　Roman　elegant　in　the　

Circus；　languidly　awaiting　the　introduction　of　an　expected　

Christian　to　an　expectant　tiger。



〃The　kid　is　due　in　two　minutes；〃　he　said。



〃He'd　jolly　well　better　not　be　late；〃　said　Comus。



Comus　had　gone　through　the　mill　of　many　scorching　castigations　in　

his　earlier　school　days；　and　was　able　to　appreciate　to　the　last　

ounce　the　panic　that　must　be　now　possessing　his　foredoomed　victim；　

probably　at　this　moment　hovering　miserably　outside　the　door。　　After　

all；　that　was　part　of　the　fun　of　the　thing；　and　most　things　have　

their　amusing　side　if　one　knows　where　to　look　for　it。



There　was　a　knock　at　the　door；　and　Lancelot　entered　in　response　to　

a　hearty　friendly　summons　to　〃come　in。〃



〃I've　come　to　be　caned；〃　he　said　breathlessly；　adding　by　way　of　

identification；　〃my　name's　Chetrof。〃



〃That's　quite　bad　enough　in　itself；〃　said　Comus；　〃but　there　is　

probably　worse　to　follow。　　You　are　evidently　keeping　something　back　

from　us。〃



〃I　missed　a　footer　practice；〃　said　Lancelot



〃Six；〃　said　Comus