english stories-london- 第18部分

Lucretius；　and　then　I　think　I　must　be　getting　on　my　way　home。　But　you

must　fix　a　time　for　our　first　Greek　lesson；　for　we　must　begin

to…morrow。〃



When　she　had　gone　he　walked　in　the　cloisters；　holding　his　hat　in　his

hand　and　his　stick　under　his　arm。　There　was　a　quiet　smile　on　his　face；

which　was　called　forth　by　pleasant　thoughts　in　his　mind；　and　he　did

not　look　quite　so　shrunken　and　shrivelled　as　usual。　His　eyes　were

fixed　on　the　ground；　but　he　raised　them；　and　observed　a　white　cat

creeping　toward　him。　It　came　and　rubbed　itself　against　his　foot；　and；

purring　with　all　its　might；　seemed　determined　to　win　some　kind　of

notice　from　him。　The　old　man　stooped　down　to　stroke　it；　and　was　just

touching　its　sleek　coat　when　he　suddenly　withdrew　his　hand　and　groaned

deeply。　He　struggled　to　the　recess；　and　sank　back。　The　stick　fell　on

the　stone　with　a　clatter；　and　the　battered　hat　rolled　down　beside　it；

and　the　white　cat　fled　away　in　terror；　but　realising　that　there　was　no

cause　for　alarm；　it　came　back　and　crouched　near　the　silent　figure　of

the　old　man；　watching　him　intently。　Then　it　stretched　out　its　paw　and

played　with　his　hand；　doing　its　utmost　to　coax　him　into　a　little　fun；

but　he　would　not　be　coaxed；　and　the　cat　lost　all　patience　with　him；

and　left　him　to　himself。







Meanwhile　Helen　Stanley　was　looking　for　the　lost　Lucretius　in　the

Poets'　Corner。　She　found　it　laying　near　Chaucer's　tomb；　and　was　just

going　to　take　it　to　her　friend　when　she　saw　the　workman　to　whom　they

had　spoken　in　Trafalgar　Square。　He　recognised　her　at　once；　and　came

toward　her。



〃I've　been　having　a　quiet　half…hour　here；〃　he　said。　〃It　does　me　a

sight　of　good　to　sit　in　the　abbey。〃



〃You　should　go　into　the　cloisters；〃　she　said；　kindly。　〃I　have　been

sitting　there　with　my　friend。　He　will　be　interested　to　hear　that　you

love　this　beautiful　abbey。〃



〃I　should　like　to　see　him　again；〃　said　the　workman。　〃He　had　a　kind　way

about　him；　and　that　pipe　he　gave　me　is　an　uncommon　good　one。　Still；　I

am　sorry　I　smashed　the　little　clay　pipe。　I'd　grown　used　to　it。　I'd

smoked　it　ever　since　my　little　girl　died　and　left　me　alone　in　the

world。　I　used　to　bring　my　little　girl　here；　and　now　I　come　alone。　But

it　isn't　the　same　thing。〃



〃No；　it　could　not　be　the　same　thing；〃　said　Helen；　gently。　〃But　you

find　some　comfort　here？〃



〃Some　little　comfort；〃　he　answered。　〃One　can't　expect　much。〃



They　went　together　into　the　cloisters；　and　as　they　came　near　the

recess　where　the　old　man　rested　Helen　said：



〃Why；　he　has　fallen　asleep！　He　must　have　been　very　tired。　And　he　has

dropped　his　hat　and　stick。　Thank　you。　If　you　will　put　them　down　there；

I　will　watch　by　his　side　until　he　wakes　up。　I　don't　suppose　he　will

sleep　for　long。〃



The　workman　stooped　down　to　pick　up　the　hat　and　stick；　and　glanced　at

the　sleeper。　Something　in　the　sleeper's　countenance　arrested　his

attention。　He　turned　to　the　girl；　and　saw　that　she　was　watching　him。



〃What　is　it？〃　she　asked　anxiously。　〃What　is　the　matter　with　you？〃



He　tried　to　speak；　but　his　voice　failed　him；　and　all　he　could　do　was

to　point　with　trembling　hand　to　the　old　man。



Helen　looked；　and　a　loud　cry　broke　from　her　lips。　The　old　man　was

dead。







THE　OMNIBUS



BY



QUILLER…COUCH







All　that　follows　was　spoken　in　a　small　tavern；　a　stone's　throw　from

Cheapside；　the　day　before　I　left　London。　It　was　spoken　in　a　dull

voice；　across　a　greasy　table…cloth；　and　amid　an　atmosphere　so　thick

with　the　reek　of　cooking　that　one　longed　to　change　it　for　the　torrid

street　again；　to　broil　in　an　ampler　furnace。　Old　Tom　Pickford　spoke

it；　who　has　been　a　clerk　for　fifty…two　years　in　Tweedy's　East　India

warehouse；　and　in　all　that　time　has　never　been　out　of　London；　but　when

he　takes　a　holiday　spends　it　in　hanging　about　Tweedy's；　and　observing

that　unlovely　place　of　business　from　the　outside。　The　dust；　if　not　the

iron；　of　Tweedy's　has　entered　into　his　soul；　and　Tweedy's　young　men

know　him　as　〃the　Mastodon。〃　He　is　a　thin；　bald　septuagenarian；　with

sloping　shoulders；　and　a　habit　of　regarding　the　pavement　when　he

walks；　so　that　he　seems　to　steer　his　way　by　instinct　rather　than

sight。　In　general　he　keeps　silence　while　eating　his　chop；　and　on　this

occasion　there　was　something　unnatural　in　his　utterance；　a　divorce　of

manner　between　the　speaker　and　his　words；　such　as　one　would　expect　in

a　sibyl　disclaiming　under　stress　of　the　god。　I　fancied　it　had

something　to　do　with　a　black　necktie　that　he　wore　instead　of　the　blue

bird's…eye　cravat　familiar　to　Tweedy's；　and　with　his　extraordinary

conduct　in　refusing　to…day　the　chop　that　the　waiter　brought；　and

limiting　his　lunch　to　cheese　and　lettuce。



Having　pulled　the　lettuce　to　pieces；　he　pushed　himself　back　a　little

from　the　table；　looked　over　his　spectacles　at　me；　then　at　the　table…

cloth；　and　began　in　a　dreamy　voice：



〃Old　Gabriel　is　dead。　I　heard　the　news　at　the　office　this　morning；　and

went　out　and　bought　a　black　tie。　I　am　the　oldest　man　in　Tweedy's　now

older　by　six　years　than　Sam　Collins；　who　comes　next；　so　there　is　no

mistake　about　it。　Sam　is　looking　for　the　place；　I　saw　it　in　his　eye

when　he　told　me；　and　I　expect　he'll　get　it。　But　I'm　the　oldest　clerk

in　Tweedy's。　Only　God　Almighty　can　alter　that；　and　it's　very

satisfactory　to　me。　I　don't　care　about　the　money。　Sam　Collins　will　be

stuck　up　over　it；　like　enough；　but　he'll　never　write　a　hand　like

Gabriel's；　not　if　he　lives　to　be　a　hundred；　and　he　knows　it；　and　knows

I'll　be　there　to　remind　him　of　it。　Gabriel's　was　a　beautiful　fistso

small；　too；　if　he　chose。　Why；　once；　in　his　spare　hours；　he　wrote　out

all　the　Psalms；　with　the　headings；　on　one　side　of　a　folio　sheet；　and

had　it　framed　and　hung　up　in　his　parlour；　out　at　Shepherd's　Bush。　He

died　in　the　nightoh　yes；　quite　easily。　He　was　down　at　the　office　all

yesterday；　and　spoke　to　me　as　brisk　as　a　bird。　They　found　him　dead　in

his　bed　this　morning。



〃I　seem　cut　up　about　it？　Well；　not　exactly。　Ah；　you　noticed　that　I

refused　my　chop　to…day。　Bless　your　soul；　that's　not　on　Gabriel's

account。　I　am　well　on　in　years；　and　I　suppose　it　would　be　natural　of

me　to　pity　old　men；　and　expect　pity。　But　I　can't；　no；　/it's　only　the

young　that　I　pity/。　If　you　/must/　know；　I　didn't　take　the　chop　to…day

because　I　haven't　the　money　in　my　pocket　to　pay　for　it。　You　see；　there

was　this　black　tie　that　I　gave　eighteenpence　for；　but　something　else

happened　this　morning　that　I'll　tell　you　about。



〃I　came　down　in　a　'bus；　as　usual。　You　remember　what　muggy　weather　it

was　up　to　ten　o'clockthough　you　wouldn't　think　it；　to　feel　the　heat

now。　Well；　the　'bus　was　packed；　inside　and　out。　At　least；　there　was

just　room　for　one　more　inside　when　we　pulled　up　by　Charing　Cross；　and

there　he　got　ina　boy　with　a　stick　and　a　bundle　in　a　blue

handkerchief。



〃He　wasn't　more　than　thirteen；　bound　for　the　docks；　you　could　tell　at

a　glance；　and　by　the　way　he　looked　about　you　could　tell　as　easily　that

in　stepping　outside　Charing　Cross　station　he'd　set　foot　on　London

stones　for　the　first　time。　God　knows　how　it　struck　himthe　slush　and

drizzle；　the　ugly　shop…fronts；　the　horses　slipping　in　the　brown　mud；

the　crowd　on　the　pavement　pushing　him　this　side　and　that。　The　poor

little　chap　was　standing　in　the　middle　of　it　with　dazed　eyes；　like　a

hare's；　when　the　'bus　pulled　up。　His　eyelids　were　pink　and　swollen；

but　he　wasn't　crying；　though　he　wanted　to。　Instead；　he　gave　a　gulp　as

he　came　on　board　with　stick　and　bundle；　and　tried　to　look　brave　as　a

lion。



〃I'd　have　given　worlds　to　speak　to　him；　but　I　couldn't。　On　my　word；

sir；　I　should　have　cried。　It　wasn't　so　much　the　little　chap's　look。

But　to　the　knot　of　his　bundle　there　was　tied　a　bunch　of　cottage

flowers；sweet…williams；　boy's…love；　and　a　rose　or　two；and　the

sight　and　smell　of　them　in　that　stuffy　omnibus　were　like　tears　on

thirsty　eyelids。　It's　the　young　that　I　pity；　sir。　For　Gabriel；　in　his

bed　up　at　Shepherd's　Bush；　there's　no　more　to　be　said；　as　far　as　I　can

see；　and　as　for　me；　I'm　the　oldest　clerk　in　Tweedy's；　which　is　very

satisfactory。　It's　the　young　faces；　set　toward　the　road　along　which　we

have　travelled；　that　trouble　me。　Sometimes；　sir；　I　lie　awake　in　my

lodgings　and　listen；　and　the　whole　of　this　London　seems　filled　with

the　sound　of　children's　feet　running；　and　I　can　sob　aloud。　You　may　say

that　it　is　only　selfishness；　and　what　I　really　pity　is　my　own　boyhood。

I　dare　say　you're　right。　It's　certain　that；　as　I　kept　glancing　at　the

boy　and　his　sea　kit　and　his　bunch　of　flowers；　my　mind　went　back　to　the

January　morning；　sixty…five　years　back；　when　the　coach　took　me　off　for

the　first　time　from　the　village　where　I　was　born　to　a　London　charity…

school。　I　was　worse　off　than　the　boy　in　the　omnibus；　for　I　had　just

lost　father　and　mother。　Yet　it　was　the　sticks　and　stones　and　flower…

beds　that　I　mostly　thought　of。　I　went　round　and　said　good…bye　to　the

lilacs；　and　told　them　to　be　in　flower　by　the　time　I　came　back。　I　said

to　the　rose…bush；　'You　must　be　as　high　as　my　window　next　May；　you　know

you　only　missed　it　by　three　inches　last　summer。'　Then　I　went　to　the

cow…house；　and　kissed　the　cows；　one　by　one。　They　were　to　be　sold　by

auction　the　very　next　week；　but　I　guessed　nothing　of　it；　and　ordered

them　not　to　forget　me。　And　last　I　looked　at　the　swallows'　nests　under

the　thatch；the　last　year's　nests；and　told　myself　that　they　would

be　filled　again　when　I　returned。　I　remembered　this；　and　how　I

stretched　out　my　hands　to　the　place　from　the　coach…top；　and　how　at

Reading；　where　we　stopped；　I　spent　the　two　shillings　that　I　possessed

in　a　cocoanut　and　a　bright　clasp…knife；　and　how；　when　I　opened　it；　the

nut　was　sour；　and　how　I　cried　myself　to　sleep；　and　woke　in　London。



〃The　young　men　in　Tweedy's；　though　they　respect　my　long　standing

there；　make　fun　of　me　at　times　because　I　never　take　a　holiday　in　the

country。　Why；　sir；　/I　dare　not/。　I　should　wander　back　to　my　old

village；