the fortunes of oliver horn- 第3部分

〃I　do　dat　'cause　it's　Marse　Richarddat's　all；〃　Malachi　would　answer；　drawing　himself　up　with　the　dignity　of　a　chamberlain　serving　a　king；　when　someone　　had　the　audacity　to　question　hima　liberty　he　always　resented。

They　had　been　boys　togetherthese　two。　They　had　fished　and　hunted　and　robbed　birds'　nests　and　gone　swimming　with　each　other。　They　had　fought　for　each　other；　and　been　whipped　for　each　other　many　and　many　a　time　in　the　old　plantation…days。　Night　after　night　in　the　years　that　followed　they　had　sat　by　each　other　when　one　or　the　other　was　ill。

And　now　that　each　was　an　old　man　the　mutual　service　　was　still　continued。

〃How　are　you　getting　on　now；　Malachibetter？　Ah；　that's　good〃　and　the　master's　thin　white　hand　would　be　laid　on　the　black　wrinkled　head　with　a　soothing　touch。

〃Allus　feels　better；　Marse　Richard；　when　I　kin　git　hold　ob　yo'　han'；　sah〃　Malachi　would　answer。

Not　his　slave；　remember。　Not　so　many　pounds　of　human　flesh　and　bone　and　brains　condemned　to　his　service　for　life；　for　Malachi　was　free　to　come　and　go　and　had　been　so　privileged　since　the　day　the　old　Horn　estate　had　been　settled　twenty　years　before；　when　Richard　had　given　him　his　freedom　with　the　other　slaves　that　fell　to　his　lot；　not　that　kind　of　a　servitor　at　all；　but　his　comrade；　his　chum；　his　friend；　the　one　man；　black　as　he　was；　in　all　the　world　who　in　laying　down　his　life　for　him　would　but　have　counted　it　as　gain。

Just　before　tea　Mrs。　Horn；　with　a　thin　gossamer　shawl　about　her　shoulders；　would　come　down　from　her　bedroom　above　and　join　her　husband。　Then　young　Oliver　himself　would　come　bounding　in；　always　　a　little　late；　but　always　with　his　face　aglow　and　always　bubbling　over　with　laughter；　until　Malachi；　now　that　the　last　member　of　the　family　was　at　home；　would　throw　open　the　mahogany　doors；　and　high　tea　would　be　served　in　the　dining…room　on　the　well…　rubbed；　unclothed　mahogany　table；　the　plates；　forks；　and　saucers　under　Malachi's　manipulations　touching　the　polished　wood　as　noiselessly　as　soap…bubbles。

Tea　served　and　over；　Malachi　would　light　the　candies　　in　the　big；　cut…glass　chandelier　in　the　front　parlor　the　especial　pride　of　the　hostess；　it　having　hung　in　her　father's　house　in　Virginia。

After　this　he　would　retire　once　more　to　his　pantry；　this　time　to　make　ready　for　some　special　function　to　follow；　for　every　evening　at　the　Horn　mansion　had　its　separate　festivity。　On　Mondays　small　whist…tables　that　unfolded　or　let　down　or　evolved　from　half…moons　into　circles；　their　tops　covered　with　green　cloth；　were　pulled　out　or　moved　around　so　as　to　form　the　centres　of　cosey　groups。　Some　extra　sticks　of　hickory　would　be　brought　in　and　piled　on　the　andirons；　and　the　huge　library…table；　always　covered　with　the　magazines　of　the　dayLittell's；　Westminster；　Blackwood's；　and　the　Scientific　Review；　would　be　pushed　back　against　the　wall　to　make　room。

On　Wednesdays　there　would　be　a　dinner　at　six　o'clock；　served　without　pretence　or　culinary　assistance　from　the　pastry…cook　outsideeven　the　ices　were　prepared　　at　home。　To　these　dinners　any　distinguished　strangers　who　were　passing　through　the　city　were　sure　to　be　invited。　Malachi　in　his　time　had　served　many　famous　menCharles　Dickens；　Ole　Bull；　Macready；　and　once　the　great　Mr。　Thackeray　himself　with　a　second　glass　of　〃that　pale　sherry；　if　you　please；〃　and　at　the　great　man's　request；　too。　An　　appreciation　which；　in　the　case　of　Mr。　Thackeray；　had　helped　to　mollify　Malachi's　righteous　wrath　over　the　immortal　novelist's　ignorance　of　Southern　dishes：

〃Dat　fat　gemman　wid　de　gold　specs　dat　dey　do　say　is　so　mighty　great；　ain't　eat　nuffin　yet　but　soup　an'　a　li'l　mite　o'　'tater；〃　he　said　to　Aunt　Hannah　on　one　of　his　trips　to　the　kitchen　as　dinner　went　on。　〃He　let　dat　tar'pin　an'　dem　ducks　go　by　him　same　as　dey　was　pizen。　But　I　lay　he　knows　'bout　dat　ole　yaller　sherry；〃　and　Malachi　chuckled。　〃He　keeps　a'　retchin'　fur　dat　decanter　as　if　he　was　'feared　somebody'd　　git　it　fust。〃

On　Fridays　there　would　invariably　be　a　musicale　generally　a　quartette；　with　a　few　connoisseurs　to　listen　and　to　criticise。　Then　the　piano　would　be　drawn　out　from　its　corner　and　the　lid　propped　up；　so　that　Max　Unger　of　the　〃Harmonie〃　could　find　a　place　for　his　'cello　behind　it；　and　there　still　be　room　for　the　inventor　with　his　violina　violin　with　a　tradition；　　for　Ole　Bull　had　once　played　on　it　and　in　that　same　room；　too；　and　had　said　it　had　the　soul　of　a　Cremona　which　was　quite　true　when　Richard　Horn　touched　its　strings。

On　all　the　other　nights　of　the　week　Mrs。　Horn　was　at　home　to　all　who　came。　Some　gentle　old　lady　from　across　the　Square；　perhaps；　in　lace　caps　and　ribbons；　　with　a　work…basket　filled　with　fancy　crewels；　and　whose　big　son　came　at　nine　o'clock　to　take　her　home；　or　Oliver's　young　friends；　boys　and　girls；　or　old　Doctor　　Wallace；　full　of　the　day's　gossip；　or　Miss　Lavinia　Clendenning；　with　news　of　the　latest　Assembly；　or　Nathan　Gill　with　his　flute。

But　then　it　was　Nathan　always；　whatever　the　occasion。　　From　the　time　Malachi　unlocked　the　front　doors　in　the　morning　until　he　bolted　them　for　the　night；　Nathan　came　and　went。　The　brick　pavements　were　worn　smooth；　the　neighbors　said；　between　the　flute…player's　humble　lodgings　in　a　side　street　and　the　Horn　house；　so　many　trips　a　day　did　the　old　man　make。　People　smiled　at　him　as　he　hurried　along；　his　head　bent　forward；　his　long　pen…wiper　cloak　reaching　　to　his　heels；　a　wide…brimmed　Quaker　hat　crowning　　his　head。

And　always；　whenever　the　night　or　whatever　the　function　or　whoever　the　guests；　a　particular　side…table　was　sure　to　be　moved　in　from　Malachi's　pantry　and　covered　with　a　snow…white　cloth　which　played　an　important　　part　in　the　evening's　entertainment。　This　cloth　was　never　empty。　Upon　its　damask　surface　were　laid　a　pile　of　India…blue　plates　and　a　silver　basket　of　cake；　besides　a　collection　of　low　glass　tumblers　with　little　handles；　designed　to　hold　various　brews　of　Malachi's　　own　concoctions；　which　he　alone　of　all　the　denizens　　of　Kennedy　Square　could　compound；　and　the　secret　of　which　unhappily　has　perished　with　him。

And　what　wondrous　aromas；　too！

You　may　not　believe　it；　but　I　assure　you；　on　the　honor　of　a　Virginian；　that　for　every　one　of　these　different　　nights　in　the　old　house　on　Kennedy　Square　there　were　special　savory　odors　emanating　from　these　brews；　which　settled　at　once　and　beyond　question　the　precise　function　of　the　evening；　and　all　before　you　could　hand　your　hat　to　Malachi。　If；　for　instance；　as　the　front　door　was　opened　the　aroma　was　one　of　hot　coffee　and　the　dry　smell　of　fresh　wafer…biscuit　mingled　　with　those　of　a　certain　brand　of　sherry；　then　it　was　always　to　be　plain　whist　in　the　parlor；　with　perhaps　　only　Colonel　Clayton　and　Miss　Clendenning　or　some　one　of　the　old　ladies　of　the　neighborhood；　to　hold　hands　in　a　rubber。　If　the　fumes　of　apple…toddy　mingled　　with　the　fragrance　of　toasted　apples　were　wafted　your　way；　you　might　be　sure　that　Max　Unger；　and　perhaps　Bobbinette；　second　violin；　and　Nathanwhatever　　the　function　it　was　always　Nathan；　it　must　be　rememberedand　a　few　kindred　spirits　who　loved　good　music　were　expected；　and　at　the　appointed　hour　Malachi；　his　hands　encased　in　white　cotton　gloves；　would　enter　with　a　flourish；　and　would　graciously　beg　leave　to　pass；　the　huge　bowl　held　high　above　his　head　filled　to　the　brim　with　smoking　apple…toddy；　the　little　pippins　browned　to　a　turn　floating　on　its　top。

If　the　occasion　was　one　of　great　distinction；　one　that　fell　on　Christmas　or　on　New　Year's；　or　which　celebrated　　some　important　family　gathering；　the　pungent　odor　of　eggnog　would　have　greeted　you　even　before　you　could　have　slipped　off　your　gum…shoes　in　the　hall；　or　hung　your　coat　on　the　mahogany　rack。　This　seductive　　concoctionthe　most　potent　of　all　Malachi's　beverageswas　always　served　from　a　green　and　gold　Chinese　bowl；　and　drunk　not　from　the　customary　low　tumblers；　but　from　special　Spode　cups；　and　was；　I　must　confess；　productive　of　a　headfor　I　myself　was　once　tempted　to　drink　a　bumper　of　it　at　this　most　delightful　of　houses　with　young　Oliver；　many　years　ago；　it　is　true；　but　I　have　never　forgotten　itproductive　　of　an　ACHING　head；　I　think　I　said；　that　felt　as　big　in　the　morning　as　the　Canton　bowl　in　which　the　mixture　had　been　brewed。

Or；　if　none　of　these　functions　or　festivals　were　taking　place；　and　only　one　or　two　old　cronies　had　dropped　in　on　their　way　from　the　Club；　and　had　drawn　up　their　chairs　close　to　the　dining…room　table；　and　you　had　happened　to　be　hanging　up　your　hat　in　the　hall　at　that　moment；　you　would　have　been　conscious　of　an　aroma　as　delicate　in　flavor　as　that　wafted　across　summer　seas　from　far…off　tropic　isles；　of　pomegranates；　if　you　will；　ripening　by　crumbling　walls；　of　purple　grapes　drinking　in　the　sun；　of　pine　and　hemlock；　of　sweet　spices　and　the　scent　of　roses。　or　any　other　combination　of　delightful　things　which　your　excited　imagination　might　suggest。

You　would　have　known　then　just　what　had　taken　place；　how；　when　the　gentlemen　were　seated；　Malachi　　in　his　undress　blue　coat　and　brass　buttons　had　approached　his　master　noiselessly　from　behind；　and　with　a　gravity　that　befitted　the　occasion　had　bent　low　his　head；　his　hands　behind　his　back；　his　head　turned　on　one　side；　and　in　a　hushed　voice　had　asked　this　most　portentous　question：

〃Which　Madeira；　Marse　Richard？〃

The　only　answer　would　have　been　a　lifting　of　the　eyebrow　and　an　imperceptible　nod　of　his　master's　head　in　the　direction　of　the　mahogany　cellaret。

Malachi　understood。

It　was　the　Tiernan　of　'29。

And　that　worthy　〃Keeper　of　the　Privy　Seal　and　Key；〃　pausing　for　an　instant　with　his　brown　jug　of　a　head　bent　before　the　cellaret；　as　a　Mohammedan　bends　his　head　before　a　wall　facing　Mecca；　had　there…　upon　unlocked　its　secret　chambers　and　had　produced　a　low；　deeply　cut　decanter　topped　by　a　wondrous　glass　stopper。　This　he　had　placed；　with　conscious　importance；　　on　a　small　table　before　the　two　or　three　devotees　　gathered　together　in　its　honor；　and　the　host；　removing　the　stopper；　had　filled　the　slender　glasses　with　a　vintage　that　had　twice　rounded　the　Cape　a　wine　of　such　rare　lineage　and　flavor　that　those　who　had　the　honor　of　its　acquaintance　always　spoke　of　it　as　one　of　the　most　precious　possessions　of　the　town　a　wine；　too；　of　so　delicate　an　aroma　that　those　within　the　charmed　circle　invariably