ofamazement
at
his
own
son
,
and
now
and
again
he
slipped
sly
furtive
glances
towards
the
tranquil
young
man
in
the
arm-chair
by
the
empty
hearth
.
In
the
first
place
,
Mr.
Taylor
was
genuinely
impressed
by
what
he
had
read
of
Lucian
's
work
;
he
had
so
long
been
accustomed
to
look
upon
all
effort
as
futile
that
success
amazed
him
.
In
the
abstract
,
of
course
,
he
was
prepared
to
admit
that
some
people
did
write
well
and
got
published
and
made
money
,
just
as
other
persons
successfully
backed
an
outsider
at
heavy
odds
;
but
it
had
seemed
as
improbable
that
Lucian
should
show
even
the
beginnings
of
achievement
in
one
direction
as
in
the
other
.
Then
the
boy
evidently
cared
so
little
about
it
;
he
did
not
appear
to
be
proud
of
being
worth
robbing
,
nor
was
he
angry
with
the
robbers
.
He
sat
back
luxuriously
in
the
disreputable
old
chair
,
drawing
long
slow
wreaths
of
smoke
,
tasting
his
whisky
from
time
to
time
,
evidently
well
at
ease
with
himself
.
The
father
saw
him
smile
,
and
it
suddenly
dawned
upon
him
that
his
son
was
very
handsome
;
he
had
such
kind
gentle
eyes
and
a
kind
mouth
,
and
his
pale
cheeks
were
flushed
like
a
girl
's
.
Mr.
Taylor
felt
moved
.
What
a
harmless
young
fellow
Lucian
had
been
;
no
doubt
a
little
queer
and
different
from
others
,
but
wholly
inoffensive
and
patient
under
disappointment
.
And
Miss
Deacon
,
her
contribution
to
the
evening
's
discussion
had
been
characteristic
;
she
had
remarked
,
firstly
,
that
writing
was
a
very
unsettling
occupation
,
and
secondly
,
that
it
was
extremely
foolish
to
entrust
one
's
property
to
people
of
whom
one
knew
nothing
.
Father
and
son
had
smiled
together
at
these
observations
,
which
were
probably
true
enough
.
Mr.
Taylor
at
last
left
Lucian
along
;
he
shook
hands
with
a
good
deal
of
respect
,
and
said
,
almost
deferentially
:
"
You
must
n't
work
too
hard
,
old
fellow
.
I
would
n't
stay
up
too
late
,
if
I
were
you
,
after
that
long
walk
.
You
must
have
gone
miles
out
of
your
way
.
"
"
I
'm
not
tired
now
,
though
.
I
feel
as
if
I
could
write
my
new
book
on
the
spot
"
;
and
the
young
man
laughed
a
gay
sweet
laugh
that
struck
the
father
as
a
new
note
in
his
son
's
life
.
He
sat
still
a
moment
after
his
father
had
left
the
room
.
He
cherished
his
chief
treasure
of
thought
in
its
secret
place
;
he
would
not
enjoy
it
yet
.
He
drew
up
a
chair
to
the
table
at
which
he
wrote
or
tried
to
write
,
and
began
taking
pens
and
paper
from
the
drawer
.
There
was
a
great
pile
of
ruled
paper
there
;
all
of
it
used
,
on
one
side
,
and
signifying
many
hours
of
desperate
scribbling
,
of
heart-searching
and
rack
of
his
brain
;
an
array
of
poor
,
eager
lines
written
by
a
waning
fire
with
waning
hope
;
all
useless
and
abandoned
.
He
took
up
the
sheets
cheerfully
,
and
began
in
delicious
idleness
to
look
over
these
fruitless
efforts
.
A
page
caught
his
attention
;
he
remembered
how
he
wrote
it
while
a
November
storm
was
dashing
against
the
panes
;
and
there
was
another
,
with
a
queer
blot
in
one
corner
;
he
had
got
up
from
his
chair
and
looked
out
,
and
all
the
earth
was
white
fairyland
,
and
the
snowflakes
whirled
round
and
round
in
the
wind
.
Then
he
saw
the
chapter
begun
of
a
night
in
March
:
a
great
gale
blew
that
night
and
rooted
up
one
of
the
ancient
yews
in
the
churchyard
.
He
had
heard
the
trees
shrieking
in
the
woods
,
and
the
long
wail
of
the
wind
,
and
across
the
heaven
a
white
moon
fled
awfully
before
the
streaming
clouds
.
And
all
these
poor
abandoned
pages
now
seemed
sweet
,
and
past
unhappiness
was
transmuted
into
happiness
,
and
the
nights
of
toil
were
holy
.
He
turned
over
half
a
dozen
leaves
and
began
to
sketch
out
the
outlines
of
the
new
book
on
the
unused
pages
;
running
out
a
skeleton
plan
on
one
page
,
and
dotting
fancies
,
suggestions
,
hints
on
others
.
He
wrote
rapidly
,
overjoyed
to
find
that
loving
phrases
grew
under
his
pen
;
a
particular
scene
he
had
imagined
filled
him
with
desire
;
he
gave
his
hand
free
course
,
and
saw
the
written
work
glowing
;
and
action
and
all
the
heat
of
existence
quickened
and
beat
on
the
wet
page
.
Happy
fancies
took
shape
in
happier
words
,
and
when
at
last
he
leant
back
in
his
chair
he
felt
the
stir
and
rush
of
the
story
as
if
it
had
been
some
portion
of
his
own
life
.
He
read
over
what
he
had
done
with
a
renewed
pleasure
in
the
nimble
and
flowing
workmanship
,
and
as
he
put
the
little
pile
of
manuscript
tenderly
in
the
drawer
he
paused
to
enjoy
the
anticipation
of
tomorrow
's
labor
.
And
thenâ
€
”
but
the
rest
of
the
night
was
given
to
tender
and
delicious
things
,
and
when
he
went
up
to
bed
a
scarlet
dawn
was
streaming
from
the
east
.
III
For
days
Lucian
lay
in
a
swoon
of
pleasure
,
smiling
when
he
was
addressed
,
sauntering
happily
in
the
sunlight
,
hugging
recollection
warm
to
his
heart
.
Annie
had
told
him
that
she
was
going
on
a
visit
to
her
married
sister
,
and
said
,
with
a
caress
,
that
he
must
be
patient
.
He
protested
against
her
absence
,
but
she
fondled
him
,
whispering
her
charms
in
his
ear
till
he
gave
in
and
then
they
said
good-bye
,
Lucian
adoring
on
his
knees
.
The
parting
was
as
strange
as
the
meeting
,
and
that
night
when
he
laid
his
work
aside
,
and
let
himself
sink
deep
into
the
joys
of
memory
,
all
the
encounter
seemed
as
wonderful
and
impossible
as
magic
.
"
And
you
really
do
n't
mean
to
do
anything
about
those
rascals
?
"
said
his
father
.
"
Rascals
?
Which
rascals
?
Oh
,
you
mean
Beit
.
I
had
forgotten
all
about
it
.
No
;
I
do
n't
think
I
shall
trouble
.
They
're
not
worth
powder
and
shot
.
"
And
he
returned
to
his
dream
,
pacing
slowly
from
the
medlar
to
the
quince
and
back
again
.
It
seemed
trivial
to
be
interrupted
by
such
questions
;
he
had
not
even
time
to
think
of
the
book
he
had
recommenced
so
eagerly
,
much
less
of
this
labor
of
long
ago
.
He
recollected
without
interest
that
it
cost
him
many
pains
,
that
it
was
pretty
good
here
and
there
,
and
that
it
had
been
stolen
,
and
it
seemed
that
there
was
nothing
more
to
be
said
on
the
matter
.
He
wished
to
think
of
the
darkness
in
the
lane
,
of
the
kind
voice
that
spoke
to
him
,
of
the
kind
hand
that
sought
his
own
,
as
he
stumbled
on
the
rough
way
.
So
far
,
it
was
wonderful
.
Since
he
had
left
school
and
lost
the
company
of
the
worthy
barbarians
who
had
befriended
him
there
,
he
had
almost
lost
the
sense
of
kinship
with
humanity
;
he
had
come
to
dread
the
human
form
as
men
dread
the
hood
of
the
cobra
.
To
Lucian
a
man
or
a
woman
meant
something
that
stung
,
that
spoke
words
that
rankled
,
and
poisoned
his
life
with
scorn
.
At
first
such
malignity
shocked
him
:
he
would
ponder
over
words
and
glances
and
wonder
if
he
were
not
mistaken
,
and
he
still
sought
now
and
then
for
sympathy
.
The
poor
boy
had
romantic
ideas
about
women
;
he
believed
they
were
merciful
and
pitiful
,
very
kind
to
the
unlucky
and
helpless
.
Men
perhaps
had
to
be
different
;
after
all
,
the
duty
of
a
man
was
to
get
on
in
the
world
,
or
,
in
plain
language
,
to
make
money
,
to
be
successful
;
to
cheat
rather
than
to
be
cheated
,
but
always
to
be
successful
;
and
he
could
understand
that
one
who
fell
below
this
high
standard
must
expect
to
be
severely
judged
by
his
fellows
.
For
example
,
there
was
young
Bennett
,
Miss
Spurry
's
nephew
.
Lucian
had
met
him
once
or
twice
when
he
was
spending
his
holidays
with
Miss
Spurry
,
and
the
two
young
fellows
compared
literary
notes
together
.
Bennett
showed
some
beautiful
things
he
had
written
,
over
which
Lucian
had
grown
both
sad
and
enthusiastic
.
It
was
such
exquisite
magic
verse
,
and
so
much
better
than
anything
he
ever
hoped
to
write
,
that
there
was
a
touch
of
anguish
in
his
congratulations
.
But
when
Bennett
,
after
many
vain
prayers
to
his
aunt
,
threw
up
a
safe
position
in
the
bank
,
and
betook
himself
to
a
London
garret
,
Lucian
was
not
surprised
at
the
general
verdict
.
Mr.
Dixon
,
as
a
clergyman
,
viewed
the
question
from
a
high
standpoint
and
found
it
all
deplorable
,
but
the
general
opinion
was
that
Bennett
was
a
hopeless
young
lunatic
.
Old
Mr.
Gervase
went
purple
when
his
name
was
mentioned
,
and
the
young
Dixons
sneered
very
merrily
over
the
adventure
.
"
I
always
thought
he
was
a
beastly
young
ass
,
"
said
Edward
Dixon
,
"
but
I
did
n't
think
he
'd
chuck
away
his
chances
like
that
.
Said
he
could
n't
stand
a
bank
!
I
hope
he
'll
be
able
to
stand
bread
and
water
.
That
's
all
those
littery
fellows
get
,
I
believe
,
except
Tennyson
and
Mark
Twain
and
those
sort
of
people
.
"
Lucian
of
course
sympathized
with
the
unfortunate
Bennett
,
but
such
judgments
were
after
all
only
natural
.
The
young
man
might
have
stayed
in
the
bank
and
succeeded
to
his
aunt
's
thousand
a
year
,
and
everybody
would
have
called
him
a
very
nice
young
fellowâ
€
”
"
clever
,
too
.
"
But
he
had
deliberately
chosen
,
as
Edward
Dixon
had
said
,
to
chuck
his
chances
away
for
the
sake
of
literature
;
piety
and
a
sense
of
the
main
chance
had
alike
pointed
the
way
to
a
delicate
course
of
wheedling
,
to
a
little
harmless
practicing
on
Miss
Spurry
's
infirmities
,
to
frequent
compliances
of
a
soothing
nature
,
and
the
"
young
ass
"
had
been
blind
to
the
direction
of
one
and
the
other
.
It
seemed
almost
right
that
the
vicar
should
moralize
,
that
Edward
Dixon
should
sneer
,
and
that
Mr.
Gervase
should
grow
purple
with
contempt
.
Men
,
Lucian
thought
,
were
like
judges
,
who
may
pity
the
criminal
in
their
hearts
,
but
are
forced
to
vindicate
the
outraged
majesty
of
the
law
by
a
severe
sentence
.
He
felt
the
same
considerations
applied
to
his
own
case
;
he
knew
that
his
father
should
have
had
more
money
,
that
his
clothes
should
be
newer
and
of
a
better
cut
,
that
he
should
have
gone
to
the
university
and
made
good
friends
.
If
such
had
been
his
fortune
he
could
have
looked
his
fellow-men
proudly
in
the
face
,
upright
and
unashamed
.
Having
put
on
the
whole
armor
of
a
first-rate
West
End
tailor
,
with
money
in
his
purse
,
having
taken
anxious
thought
for
the
morrow
,
and
having
some
useful
friends
and
good
prospects
;
in
such
a
case
he
might
have
held
his
head
high
in
a
gentlemanly
and
Christian
community
.
As
it
was
he
had
usually
avoided
the
reproachful
glance
of
his
fellows
,
feeling
that
he
deserved
their
condemnation
.
But
he
had
cherished
for
a
long
time
his
romantic
sentimentalities
about
women
;
literary
conventions
borrowed
from
the
minor
poets
and
pseudo-medievalists
,
or
so
he
thought
afterwards
.
But
,
fresh
from
school
,
wearied
a
little
with
the
perpetual
society
of
barbarian
though
worthy
boys
,
he
had
in
his
soul
a
charming
image
of
womanhood
,
before
which
he
worshipped
with
mingled
passion
and
devotion
.
It
was
a
nude
figure
,
perhaps
,
but
the
shining
arms
were
to
be
wound
about
the
neck
of
a
vanquished
knight
;
there
was
rest
for
the
head
of
a
wounded
lover
;
the
hands
were
stretched
forth
to
do
works
of
pity
,
and
the
smiling
lips
were
to
murmur
not
love
alone
,
but
consolation
in
defeat
.
Here
was
the
refuge
for
a
broken
heart
;
here
the
scorn
of
men
would
but
make
tenderness
increase
;
here
was
all
pity
and
all
charity
with
loving-kindness
.
It
was
a
delightful
picture
,
conceived
in
the
"
come
rest
on
this
bosom
,
"
and
"
a
ministering
angel
thou
"
manner
,
with
touches
of
allurement
that
made
devotion
all
the
sweeter
.
He
soon
found
that
he
had
idealized
a
little
;
in
the
affair
of
young
Bennett
,
while
the
men
were
contemptuous
the
women
were
virulent
.
He
had
been
rather
fond
of
Agatha
Gervase
,
and
she
,
so
other
ladies
said
,
had
"
set
her
cap
"
at
him
.
Now
,
when
he
rebelled
,
and
lost
the
goodwill
of
his
aunt
,
dear
Miss
Spurry
,
Agatha
insulted
him
with
all
conceivable
rapidity
.
"
After
all
,
Mr.
Bennett
,
"
she
said
,
"
you
will
be
nothing
better
than
a
beggar
;
now
,
will
you
?
You
must
n't
think
me
cruel
,
but
I
ca
n't
help
speaking
the
truth
.
Write
books
!
"
Her
expression
filled
up
the
incomplete
sentence
;
she
waggled
with
indignant
emotion
.
These
passages
came
to
Lucian
's
ears
,
and
indeed
the
Gervases
boasted
of
"
how
well
poor
Agatha
had
behaved
.
"
"
Never
mind
,
Gathy
,
"
old
Gervase
had
observed
.
"
If
the
impudent
young
puppy
comes
here
again
,
we
'll
see
what
Thomas
can
do
with
the
horse-whip
.
"
"
Poor
dear
child
,
"
Mrs.
Gervase
added
in
telling
the
tale
,
"
and
she
was
so
fond
of
him
too
.
But
of
course
it
could
n't
go
on
after
his
shameful
behavior
.
"
But
Lucian
was
troubled
;
he
sought
vainly
for
the
ideal
womanly
,
the
tender
note
of
"
come
rest
on
this
bosom
.
"
Ministering
angels
,
he
felt
convinced
,
do
not
rub
red
pepper
and
sulfuric
acid
into
the
wounds
of
suffering
mortals
.
Then
there
was
the
case
of
Mr.
Vaughan
,
a
squire
in
the
neighborhood
,
at
whose
board
all
the
aristocracy
of
Caermaen
had
feasted
for
years
.
Mr.
Vaughan
had
a
first-rate
cook
,
and
his
cellar
was
rare
,
and
he
was
never
so
happy
as
when
he
shared
his
good
things
with
his
friends
.
His
mother
kept
his
house
,
and
they
delighted
all
the
girls
with
frequent
dances
,
while
the
men
sighed
over
the
amazing
champagne
.
Investments
proved
disastrous
,
and
Mr.
Vaughan
had
to
sell
the
grey
manor-house
by
the
river
.
He
and
his
mother
took
a
little
modern
stucco
villa
in
Caermaen
,
wishing
to
be
near
their
dear
friends
.
But
the
men
were
"
very
sorry
;
rough
on
you
,
Vaughan
.
Always
thought
those
Patagonians
were
risky
,
but
you
would
n't
hear
of
it
.
Hope
we
shall
see
you
before
very
long
;
you
and
Mrs.
Vaughan
must
come
to
tea
some
day
after
Christmas
.
"
"
Of
course
we
are
all
very
sorry
for
them
,
"
said
Henrietta
Dixon
.
"
No
,
we
have
n't
called
on
Mrs.
Vaughan
yet
.
They
have
no
regular
servant
,
you
know
;
only
a
woman
in
the
morning
.
I
hear
old
mother
Vaughan
,
as
Edward
will
call
her
,
does
nearly
everything
.
And
their
house
is
absurdly
small
;
it
's
little
more
than
a
cottage
.
One
really
ca
n't
call
it
a
gentleman
's
house
.
"
Then
Mr.
Vaughan
,
his
heart
in
the
dust
,
went
to
the
Gervases
and
tried
to
borrow
five
pounds
of
Mr.
Gervase
.
He
had
to
be
ordered
out
of
the
house
,
and
,
as
Edith
Gervase
said
,
it
was
all
very
painful
;
"
he
went
out
in
such
a
funny
way
,
"
she
added
,
"
just
like
the
dog
when
he
's
had
a
whipping
.
Of
course
it
's
sad
,
even
if
it
is
all
his
own
fault
,
as
everybody
says
,
but
he
looked
so
ridiculous
as
he
was
going
down
the
steps
that
I
could
n't
help
laughing
.
"
Mr.
Vaughan
heard
the
ringing
,
youthful
laughter
as
he
crossed
the
lawn
.
Young
girls
like
Henrietta
Dixon
and
Edith
Gervase
naturally
viewed
the
Vaughans
'
comical
position
with
all
the
high
spirits
of
their
age
,
but
the
elder
ladies
could
not
look
at
matters
in
this
frivolous
light
.
"
Hush
,
dear
,
hush
,
"
said
Mrs.
Gervase
,
"
it
's
all
too
shocking
to
be
a
laughing
matter
.
Do
n't
you
agree
with
me
,
Mrs.
Dixon
?
The
sinful
extravagance
that
went
on
at
Pentre
always
frightened
me
.
You
remember
that
ball
they
gave
last
year
?
Mr.
Gervase
assured
me
that
the
champagne
must
have
cost
at
least
a
hundred
and
fifty
shillings
the
dozen
.
"
"
It
's
dreadful
,
is
n't
it
,
"
said
Mrs.
Dixon
,
"
when
one
thinks
of
how
many
poor
people
there
are
who
would
be
thankful
for
a
crust
of
bread
?
"
"
Yes
,
Mrs.
Dixon
,
"
Agatha
joined
in
,
"
and
you
know
how
absurdly
the
Vaughans
spoilt
the
cottagers
.
Oh
,
it
was
really
wicked
;
one
would
think
Mr.
Vaughan
wished
to
make
them
above
their
station
.
Edith
and
I
went
for
a
walk
one
day
nearly
as
far
as
Pentre
,
and
we
begged
a
glass
of
water
of
old
Mrs.
Jones
who
lives
in
that
pretty
cottage
near
the
brook
.
She
began
praising
the
Vaughans
in
the
most
fulsome
manner
,
and
showed
us
some
flannel
things
they
had
given
her
at
Christmas
.
I
assure
you
,
my
dear
Mrs.
Dixon
,
the
flannel
was
the
very
best
quality
;
no
lady
could
wish
for
better
.
It
could
n't
have
cost
less
than
half-a-crown
a
yard
.
"
"
I
know
,
my
dear
,
I
know
.
Mr.
Dixon
always
said
it
could
n't
last
.
How
often
I
have
heard
him
say
that
the
Vaughans
were
pauperizing
all
the
common
people
about
Pentre
,
and
putting
every
one
else
in
a
most
unpleasant
position
.
Even
from
a
worldly
point
of
view
it
was
very
poor
taste
on
their
part
.
So
different
from
the
true
charity
that
Paul
speaks
of
.
"
"
I
only
wish
they
had
given
away
nothing
worse
than
flannel
,
"
said
Miss
Colley
,
a
young
lady
of
very
strict
views
.
"
But
I
assure
you
there
was
a
perfect
orgy
,
I
can
call
it
nothing
else
,
every
Christmas
.
Great
joints
of
prime
beef
,
and
barrels
of
strong
beer
,
and
snuff
and
tobacco
distributed
wholesale
;
as
if
the
poor
wanted
to
be
encouraged
in
their
disgusting
habits
.
It
was
really
impossible
to
go
through
the
village
for
weeks
after
;
the
whole
place
was
poisoned
with
the
fumes
of
horrid
tobacco
pipes
.
"
"
Well
,
we
see
how
that
sort
of
thing
ends
,
"
said
Mrs.
Dixon
,
summing
up
judicially
.
"
We
had
intended
to
call
,
but
I
really
think
it
would
be
impossible
after
what
Mrs.
Gervase
has
told
us
.
The
idea
of
Mr.
Vaughan
trying
to
sponge
on
poor
Mr.
Gervase
in
that
shabby
way
!
I
think
meanness
of
that
kind
is
so
hateful
.
"
It
was
the
practical
side
of
all
this
that
astonished
Lucian
.
He
saw
that
in
reality
there
was
no
high-flown
quixotism
in
a
woman
's
nature
;
the
smooth
arms
,
made
he
had
thought
for
caressing
,
seemed
muscular
;
the
hands
meant
for
the
doing
of
works
of
pity
in
his
system
,
appeared
dexterous
in
the
giving
of
"
stingers
,
"
as
Barnes
might
say
,
and
the
smiling
lips
could
sneer
with
great
ease
.
Nor
was
he
more
fortunate
in
his
personal
experiences
.
As
has
been
told
,
Mrs.
Dixon
spoke
of
him
in
connection
with
"
judgments
,
"
and
the
younger
ladies
did
not
exactly
cultivate
his
acquaintance
.
Theoretically
they
"
adored
"
books
and
thought
poetry
"
too
sweet
,
"
but
in
practice
they
preferred
talking
about
mares
and
fox-terriers
and
their
neighbors
.
They
were
nice
girls
enough
,
very
like
other
young
ladies
in
other
country
towns
,
content
with
the
teaching
of
their
parents
,
reading
the
Bible
every
morning
in
their
bedrooms
,
and
sitting
every
Sunday
in
church
amongst
the
well-dressed
"
sheep
"
on
the
right
hand
.
It
was
not
their
fault
if
they
failed
to
satisfy
the
ideal
of
an
enthusiastic
dreamy
boy
,
and
indeed
,
they
would
have
thought
his
feigned
woman
immodest
,
absurdly
sentimental
,
a
fright
(
"
never
wears
stays
,
my
dear
"
)
and
horrid
.
At
first
he
was
a
good
deal
grieved
at
the
loss
of
that
charming
tender
woman
,
the
work
of
his
brain
.
When
the
Miss
Dixons
went
haughtily
by
with
a
scornful
waggle
,
when
the
Miss
Gervases
passed
in
the
wagonette
laughing
as
the
mud
splashed
him
,
the
poor
fellow
would
look
up
with
a
face
of
grief
that
must
have
been
very
comic
;
"
like
a
dying
duck
,
"
as
Edith
Gervase
said
.
Edith
was
really
very
pretty
,
and
he
would
have
liked
to
talk
to
her
,
even
about
fox-terriers
,
if
she
would
have
listened
.
One
afternoon
at
the
Dixons
'
he
really
forced
himself
upon
her
,
and
with
all
the
obtuseness
of
an
enthusiastic
boy
tried
to
discuss
the
Lotus
Eaters
of
Tennyson
.
It
was
too
absurd
.
Captain
Kempton
was
making
signals
to
Edith
all
the
time
,
and
Lieutenant
Gatwick
had
gone
off
in
disgust
,
and
he
had
promised
to
bring
her
a
puppy
"
by
Vick
out
of
Wasp
.
"
At
last
the
poor
girl
could
bear
it
no
longer
:
"
Yes
,
it
's
very
sweet
,
"
she
said
at
last
.
"
When
did
you
say
you
were
going
to
London
,
Mr.
Taylor
?
"
It
was
about
the
time
that
his
disappointment
became
known
to
everybody
,
and
the
shot
told
.
He
gave
her
a
piteous
look
and
slunk
off
,
"
just
like
the
dog
when
he
's
had
a
whipping
,
"
to
use
Edith
's
own
expression
.
Two
or
three
lessons
of
this
description
produced
their
due
effect
;
and
when
he
saw
a
male
Dixon
or
Gervase
approaching
him
he
bit
his
lip
and
summoned
up
his
courage
.
But
when
he
descried
a
"
ministering
angel
"
he
made
haste
and
hid
behind
a
hedge
or
took
to
the
woods
.
In
course
of
time
the
desire
to
escape
became
an
instinct
,
to
be
followed
as
a
matter
of
course
;
in
the
same
way
he
avoided
the
adders
on
the
mountain
.
His
old
ideals
were
almost
if
not
quite
forgotten
;
he
knew
that
the
female
of
the
bête
humaine
,
like
the
adder
,
would
in
all
probability
sting
,
and
he
therefore
shrank
from
its
trail
,
but
without
any
feeling
of
special
resentment
.
The
one
had
a
poisoned
tongue
as
the
other
had
a
poisoned
fang
,
and
it
was
well
to
leave
them
both
alone
.
Then
had
come
that
sudden
fury
of
rage
against
all
humanity
,
as
he
went
out
of
Caermaen
carrying
the
book
that
had
been
stolen
from
him
by
the
enterprising
Beit
.
He
shuddered
as
he
though
of
how
nearly
he
had
approached
the
verge
of
madness
,
when
his
eyes
filled
with
blood
and
the
earth
seemed
to
burn
with
fire
.
He
remembered
how
he
had
looked
up
to
the
horizon
and
the
sky
was
blotched
with
scarlet
;
and
the
earth
was
deep
red
,
with
red
woods
and
red
fields
.
There
was
something
of
horror
in
the
memory
,
and
in
the
vision
of
that
wild
night
walk
through
dim
country
,
when
every
shadow
seemed
a
symbol
of
some
terrible
impending
doom
.
The
murmur
of
the
brook
,
the
wind
shrilling
through
the
wood
,
the
pale
light
flowing
from
the
moldered
trunks
,
and
the
picture
of
his
own
figure
fleeing
and
fleeting
through
the
shades
;
all
these
seemed
unhappy
things
that
told
a
story
in
fatal
hieroglyphics
.
And
then
the
life
and
laws
of
the
sunlight
had
passed
away
,
and
the
resurrection
and
kingdom
of
the
dead
began
.
Though
his
limbs
were
weary
,
he
had
felt
his
muscles
grow
strong
as
steel
;
a
woman
,
one
of
the
hated
race
,
was
beside
him
in
the
darkness
,
and
the
wild
beast
woke
within
him
,
ravening
for
blood
and
brutal
lust
;
all
the
raging
desires
of
the
dim
race
from
which
he
came
assailed
his
heart
.
The
ghosts
issued
out
from
the
weird
wood
and
from
the
caves
in
the
hills
,
besieging
him
,
as
he
had
imagined
the
spiritual
legion
besieging
Caermaen
,
beckoning
him
to
a
hideous
battle
and
a
victory
that
he
had
never
imagined
in
his
wildest
dreams
.
And
then
out
of
the
darkness
the
kind
voice
spoke
again
,
and
the
kind
hand
was
stretched
out
to
draw
him
up
from
the
pit
.
It
was
sweet
to
think
of
that
which
he
had
found
at
last
;
the
boy
's
picture
incarnate
,
all
the
passion
and
compassion
of
his
longing
,
all
the
pity
and
love
and
consolation
.
She
,
that
beautiful
passionate
woman
offering
up
her
beauty
in
sacrifice
to
him
,
she
was
worthy
indeed
of
his
worship
.
He
remembered
how
his
tears
had
fallen
upon
her
breast
,
and
how
tenderly
she
had
soothed
him
,
whispering
those
wonderful
unknown
words
that
sang
to
his
heart
.
And
she
had
made
herself
defenseless
before
him
,
caressing
and
fondling
the
body
that
had
been
so
despised
.
He
exulted
in
the
happy
thought
that
he
had
knelt
down
on
the
ground
before
her
,
and
had
embraced
her
knees
and
worshipped
.
The
woman
's
body
had
become
his
religion
;
he
lay
awake
at
night
looking
into
the
darkness
with
hungry
eyes
;
wishing
for
a
miracle
,
that
the
appearance
of
the
so-desired
form
might
be
shaped
before
him
.
And
when
he
was
alone
in
quiet
places
in
the
wood
,
he
fell
down
again
on
his
knees
,
and
even
on
his
face
,
stretching
out
vain
hands
in
the
air
,
as
if
they
would
feel
her
flesh
.
His
father
noticed
in
those
days
that
the
inner
pocket
of
his
coat
was
stuffed
with
papers
;
he
would
see
Lucian
walking
up
and
down
in
a
secret
shady
place
at
the
bottom
of
the
orchard
,
reading
from
his
sheaf
of
manuscript
,
replacing
the
leaves
,
and
again
drawing
them
out
.
He
would
walk
a
few
quick
steps
,
and
pause
as
if
enraptured
,
gazing
in
the
air
as
if
he
looked
through
the
shadows
of
the
world
into
some
sphere
of
glory
,
feigned
by
his
thought
.
Mr.
Taylor
was
almost
alarmed
at
the
sight
;
he
concluded
of
course
that
Lucian
was
writing
a
book
.
In
the
first
place
,
there
seemed
something
immodest
in
seeing
the
operation
performed
under
one
's
eyes
;
it
was
as
if
the
"
make-up
"
of
a
beautiful
actress
were
done
on
the
stage
,
in
full
audience
;
as
if
one
saw
the
rounded
calves
fixed
in
position
,
the
fleshings
drawn
on
,
the
voluptuous
outlines
of
the
figure
produced
by
means
purely
mechanical
,
blushes
mantling
from
the
paint-pot
,
and
the
golden
tresses
well
secured
by
the
wigmaker
.
Books
,
Mr.
Taylor
thought
,
should
swim
into
one
's
ken
mysteriously
;
they
should
appear
all
printed
and
bound
,
without
apparent
genesis
;
just
as
children
are
suddenly
told
that
they
have
a
little
sister
,
found
by
mamma
in
the
garden
.
But
Lucian
was
not
only
engaged
in
composition
;
he
was
plainly
rapturous
,
enthusiastic
;
Mr.
Taylor
saw
him
throw
up
his
hands
,
and
bow
his
head
with
strange
gesture
.
The
parson
began
to
fear
that
his
son
was
like
some
of
those
mad
Frenchmen
of
whom
he
had
read
,
young
fellows
who
had
a
sort
of
fury
of
literature
,
and
gave
their
whole
lives
to
it
,
spending
days
over
a
page
,
and
years
over
a
book
,
pursuing
art
as
Englishmen
pursue
money
,
building
up
a
romance
as
if
it
were
a
business
.
Now
Mr.
Taylor
held
firmly
by
the
"
walking-stick
"
theory
;
he
believed
that
a
man
of
letters
should
have
a
real
profession
,
some
solid
employment
in
life
.
"
Get
something
to
do
,
"
he
would
have
liked
to
say
,
"
and
then
you
can
write
as
much
as
you
please
.
Look
at
Scott
,
look
at
Dickens
and
Trollope
.
"
And
then
there
was
the
social
point
of
view
;
it
might
be
right
,
or
it
might
be
wrong
,
but
there
could
be
no
doubt
that
the
literary
man
,
as
such
,
was
not
thought
much
of
in
English
society
.
Mr.
Taylor
knew
his
Thackeray
,
and
he
remembered
that
old
Major
Pendennis
,
society
personified
,
did
not
exactly
boast
of
his
nephew
's
occupation
.
Even
Warrington
was
rather
ashamed
to
own
his
connection
with
journalism
,
and
Pendennis
himself
laughed
openly
at
his
novel-writing
as
an
agreeable
way
of
making
money
,
a
useful
appendage
to
the
cultivation
of
dukes
,
his
true
business
in
life
.
This
was
the
plain
English
view
,
and
Mr.
Taylor
was
no
doubt
right
enough
in
thinking
it
good
,
practical
common
sense
.
Therefore
when
he
saw
Lucian
loitering
and
sauntering
,
musing
amorously
over
his
manuscript
,
exhibiting
manifest
signs
of
that
fine
fury
which
Britons
have
ever
found
absurd
,
he
felt
grieved
at
heart
,
and
more
than
ever
sorry
that
he
had
not
been
able
to
send
the
boy
to
Oxford
.
"
B.N.C.
would
have
knocked
all
this
nonsense
out
of
him
,
"
he
thought
.
"
He
would
have
taken
a
double
First
like
my
poor
father
and
made
something
of
a
figure
in
the
world
.
However
,
it
ca
n't
be
helped
.
"
The
poor
man
sighed
,
and
lit
his
pipe
,
and
walked
in
another
part
of
the
garden
.
But
he
was
mistaken
in
his
diagnosis
of
the
symptoms
.
The
book
that
Lucian
had
begun
lay
unheeded
in
the
drawer
;
it
was
a
secret
work
that
he
was
engaged
on
,
and
the
manuscripts
that
he
took
out
of
that
inner
pocket
never
left
him
day
or
night
.
He
slept
with
them
next
to
his
heart
,
and
he
would
kiss
them
when
he
was
quite
alone
,
and
pay
them
such
devotion
as
he
would
have
paid
to
her
whom
they
symbolized
.
He
wrote
on
these
leaves
a
wonderful
ritual
of
praise
and
devotion
;
it
was
the
liturgy
of
his
religion
.
Again
and
again
he
copied
and
recopied
this
madness
of
a
lover
;
dallying
all
days
over
the
choice
of
a
word
,
searching
for
more
exquisite
phrases
.
No
common
words
,
no
such
phrases
as
he
might
use
in
a
tale
would
suffice
;
the
sentences
of
worship
must
stir
and
be
quickened
,
they
must
glow
and
burn
,
and
be
decked
out
as
with
rare
work
of
jewelry
.
Every
part
of
that
holy
and
beautiful
body
must
be
adored
;
he
sought
for
terms
of
extravagant
praise
,
he
bent
his
soul
and
mind
low
before
her
,
licking
the
dust
under
her
feet
,
abased
and
yet
rejoicing
as
a
Templar
before
the
image
of
Baphomet
.
He
exulted
more
especially
in
the
knowledge
that
there
was
nothing
of
the
conventional
or
common
in
his
ecstasy
;
he
was
not
the
fervent
,
adoring
lover
of
Tennyson
's
poems
,
who
loves
with
passion
and
yet
with
a
proud
respect
,
with
the
love
always
of
a
gentleman
for
a
lady
.
Annie
was
not
a
lady
;
the
Morgans
had
farmed
their
land
for
hundreds
of
years
;
they
were
what
Miss
Gervase
and
Miss
Colley
and
the
rest
of
them
called
common
people
.
Tennyson
's
noble
gentleman
thought
of
their
ladies
with
something
of
reticence
;
they
imagined
them
dressed
in
flowing
and
courtly
robes
,
walking
with
slow
dignity
;
they
dreamed
of
them
as
always
stately
,
the
future
mistresses
of
their
houses
,
mothers
of
their
heirs
.
Such
lovers
bowed
,
but
not
too
low
,
remembering
their
own
honor
,
before
those
who
were
to
be
equal
companions
and
friends
as
well
as
wives
.
It
was
not
such
conceptions
as
these
that
he
embodied
in
the
amazing
emblems
of
his
ritual
;
he
was
not
,
he
told
himself
,
a
young
officer
,
"
something
in
the
city
,
"
or
a
rising
barrister
engaged
to
a
Miss
Dixon
or
a
Miss
Gervase
.
He
had
not
thought
of
looking
out
for
a
nice
little
house
in
a
good
residential
suburb
where
they
would
have
pleasant
society
;
there
were
to
be
no
consultations
about
wall-papers
,
or
jocose
whispers
from
friends
as
to
the
necessity
of
having
a
room
that
would
do
for
a
nursery
.
No
glad
young
thing
had
leant
on
his
arm
while
they
chose
the
suite
in
white
enamel
,
and
china
for
"
our
bedroom
,
"
the
modest
salesman
doing
his
best
to
spare
their
blushes
.
When
Edith
Gervase
married
she
would
get
mamma
to
look
out
for
two
really
good
servants
,
"
as
we
must
begin
quietly
,
"
and
mamma
would
make
sure
that
the
drains
and
everything
were
right
.
Then
her
"
girl
friends
"
would
come
on
a
certain
solemn
day
to
see
all
her
"
lovely
things
.
"
"
Two
dozen
of
everything
!
"
"
Look
,
Ethel
,
did
you
ever
see
such
ducky
frills
?
"
"
And
that
insertion
,
is
n't
it
quite
too
sweet
?
"
"
My
dear
Edith
,
you
are
a
lucky
girl
.
"
"
All
the
underlinen
specially
made
by
Madame
Lulu
!
"
"
What
delicious
things
!
"
"
I
hope
he
knows
what
a
prize
he
is
winning
.
"
"
Oh
!
do
look
at
those
lovely
ribbon-bows
!
"
"
You
darling
,
how
happy
you
must
be
.
"
"
Real
Valenciennes
!
"
Then
a
whisper
in
the
lady
's
ear
,
and
her
reply
,
"
Oh
,
do
n't
,
Nelly
!
"
So
they
would
chirp
over
their
treasures
,
as
in
Rabelais
they
chirped
over
their
cups
;
and
every
thing
would
be
done
in
due
order
till
the
wedding-day
,
when
mamma
,
who
had
strained
her
sinews
and
the
commandments
to
bring
the
match
about
,
would
weep
and
look
indignantly
at
the
unhappy
bridegroom
.
"
I
hope
you
'll
be
kind
to
her
,
Robert
.
"
Then
in
a
rapid
whisper
to
the
bride
:
"
Mind
,
you
insist
on
Wyman
's
flushing
the
drains
when
you
come
back
;
servants
are
so
careless
and
dirty
too
.
Do
n't
let
him
go
about
by
himself
in
Paris
.
Men
are
so
queer
,
one
never
knows
.
You
have
got
the
pills
?
"
And
aloud
,
after
these
secreta
,
"
God
bless
you
,
my
dear
;
good-bye
!
cluck
,
cluck
,
good-bye
!
"
There
were
stranger
things
written
in
the
manuscript
pages
that
Lucian
cherished
,
sentences
that
burnt
and
glowed
like
"
coals
of
fire
which
hath
a
most
vehement
flame
.
"
There
were
phrases
that
stung
and
tingled
as
he
wrote
them
,
and
sonorous
words
poured
out
in
ecstasy
and
rapture
,
as
in
some
of
the
old
litanies
.
He
hugged
the
thought
that
a
great
part
of
what
he
had
invented
was
in
the
true
sense
of
the
word
occult
:
page
after
page
might
have
been
read
aloud
to
the
uninitiated
without
betraying
the
inner
meaning
.
He
dreamed
night
and
day
over
these
symbols
,
he
copied
and
recopied
the
manuscript
nine
times
before
he
wrote
it
out
fairly
in
a
little
book
which
he
made
himself
of
a
skin
of
creamy
vellum
.
In
his
mania
for
acquirements
that
should
be
entirely
useless
he
had
gained
some
skill
in
illumination
,
or
limning
as
he
preferred
to
call
it
,
always
choosing
the
obscurer
word
as
the
obscurer
arts
.
First
he
set
himself
to
the
severe
practice
of
the
text
;
he
spent
many
hours
and
days
of
toil
in
struggling
to
fashion
the
serried
columns
of
black
letter
,
writing
and
rewriting
till
he
could
shape
the
massive
character
with
firm
true
hand
.
He
cut
his
quills
with
the
patience
of
a
monk
in
the
scriptorium
,
shaving
and
altering
the
nib
,
lightening
and
increasing
the
pressure
and
flexibility
of
the
points
,
till
the
pen
satisfied
him
,
and
gave
a
stroke
both
broad
and
even
.
Then
he
made
experiments
in
inks
,
searching
for
some
medium
that
would
rival
the
glossy
black
letter
of
the
old
manuscripts
;
and
not
till
he
could
produce
a
fair
page
of
text
did
he
turn
to
the
more
entrancing
labor
of
the
capitals
and
borders
and
ornaments
.
He
mused
long
over
the
Lombardic
letters
,
as
glorious
in
their
way
as
a
cathedral
,
and
trained
his
hand
to
execute
the
bold
and
flowing
lines
;
and
then
there
was
the
art
of
the
border
,
blossoming
in
fretted
splendor
all
about
the
page
.
His
cousin
,
Miss
Deacon
,
called
it
all
a
great
waste
of
time
,
and
his
father
thought
he
would
have
done
much
better
in
trying
to
improve
his
ordinary
handwriting
,
which
was
both
ugly
and
illegible
.
Indeed
,
there
seemed
but
a
poor
demand
for
the
limner
's
art
.
He
sent
some
specimens
of
his
skill
to
an
"
artistic
firm
"
in
London
;
a
verse
of
the
"
Maud
,
"
curiously
emblazoned
,
and
a
Latin
hymn
with
the
notes
pricked
on
a
red
stave
.
The
firm
wrote
civilly
,
telling
him
that
his
work
,
though
good
,
was
not
what
they
wanted
,
and
enclosing
an
illuminated
text
.
"
We
have
great
demand
for
this
sort
of
thing
,
"
they
concluded
,
"
and
if
you
care
to
attempt
something
in
this
style
we
should
be
pleased
to
look
at
it
.
"
The
said
text
was
"
Thou
,
God
,
seest
me
.
"
The
letter
was
of
a
degraded
form
,
bearing
much
the
same
relation
to
the
true
character
as
a
"
churchwarden
gothic
"
building
does
to
Canterbury
Cathedral
;
the
colours
were
varied
.
The
initial
was
pale
gold
,
the
h
pink
,
the
o
black
,
the
u
blue
,
and
the
first
letter
was
somehow
connected
with
a
bird
's
nest
containing
the
young
of
the
pigeon
,
who
were
waited
on
by
the
female
bird
.
"
What
a
pretty
text
,
"
said
Miss
Deacon
.
"
I
should
like
to
nail
it
up
in
my
room
.
Why
do
n't
you
try
to
do
something
like
that
,
Lucian
?
You
might
make
something
by
it
.
"
"
I
sent
them
these
,
"
said
Lucian
,
"
but
they
do
n't
like
them
much
.
"
"
My
dear
boy
!
I
should
think
not
!
Like
them
!
What
were
you
thinking
of
to
draw
those
queer
stiff
flowers
all
round
the
border
?
Roses
?
They
do
n't
look
like
roses
at
all
events
.
Where
do
you
get
such
ideas
from
?
"
"
But
the
design
is
appropriate
;
look
at
the
words
.
"
"
My
dear
Lucian
,
I
ca
n't
read
the
words
;
it
's
such
a
queer
old-fashioned
writing
.
Look
how
plain
that
text
is
;
one
can
see
what
it
's
about
.
And
this
other
one
;
I
ca
n't
make
it
out
at
all
.
"
"
It
's
a
Latin
hymn
.
"
"
A
Latin
hymn
?
Is
it
a
Protestant
hymn
?
I
may
be
old-fashioned
,
but
Hymns
Ancient
and
Modern
is
quite
good
enough
for
me
.
This
is
the
music
,
I
suppose
?
But
,
my
dear
boy
,
there
are
only
four
lines
,
and
who
ever
heard
of
notes
shaped
like
that
:
you
have
made
some
square
and
some
diamond-shape
?
Why
did
n't
you
look
in
your
poor
mother
's
old
music
?
It
's
in
the
ottoman
in
the
drawing-room
.
I
could
have
shown
you
how
to
make
the
notes
;
there
are
crotchets
,
you
know
,
and
quavers
.
"
Miss
Deacon
laid
down
the
illuminated
Urbs
Beata
in
despair
;
she
felt
convinced
that
her
cousin
was
"
next
door
to
an
idiot
.
"
And
he
went
out
into
the
garden
and
raged
behind
a
hedge
.
He
broke
two
flower-pots
and
hit
an
apple-tree
very
hard
with
his
stick
,
and
then
,
feeling
more
calm
,
wondered
what
was
the
use
in
trying
to
do
anything
.
He
would
not
have
put
the
thought
into
words
,
but
in
his
heart
he
was
aggrieved
that
his
cousin
liked
the
pigeons
and
the
text
,
and
did
not
like
his
emblematical
roses
and
the
Latin
hymn
.
He
knew
he
had
taken
great
pains
over
the
work
,
and
that
it
was
well
done
,
and
being
still
a
young
man
he
expected
praise
.
He
found
that
in
this
hard
world
there
was
a
lack
of
appreciation
;
a
critical
spirit
seemed
abroad
.
If
he
could
have
been
scientifically
observed
as
he
writhed
and
smarted
under
the
strictures
of
"
the
old
fool
,
"
as
he
rudely
called
his
cousin
,
the
spectacle
would
have
been
extremely
diverting
.
Little
boys
sometimes
enjoy
a
very
similar
entertainment
;
either
with
their
tiny
fingers
or
with
mamma
's
nail
scissors
they
gradually
deprive
a
fly
of
its
wings
and
legs
.
The
odd
gyrations
and
queer
thin
buzzings
of
the
creature
as
it
spins
comically
round
and
round
never
fail
to
provide
a
fund
of
harmless
amusement
.
Lucian
,
indeed
,
fancied
himself
a
very
ill-used
individual
;
but
he
should
have
tried
to
imitate
the
nervous
organization
of
the
flies
,
which
,
as
mamma
says
,
"
ca
n't
really
feel
.
"
But
now
,
as
he
prepared
the
vellum
leaves
,
he
remembered
his
art
with
joy
;
he
had
not
labored
to
do
beautiful
work
in
vain
.
He
read
over
his
manuscript
once
more
,
and
thought
of
the
designing
of
the
pages
.
He
made
sketches
on
furtive
sheets
of
paper
,
and
hunted
up
books
in
his
father
's
library
for
suggestions
.
There
were
books
about
architecture
,
and
medieval
iron
work
,
and
brasses
which
contributed
hints
for
adornment
;
and
not
content
with
mere
pictures
he
sought
in
the
woods
and
hedges
,
scanning
the
strange
forms
of
trees
,
and
the
poisonous
growth
of
great
water-plants
,
and
the
parasite
twining
of
honeysuckle
and
briony
.
In
one
of
these
rambles
he
discovered
a
red
earth
which
he
made
into
a
pigment
,
and
he
found
in
the
unctuous
juice
of
a
certain
fern
an
ingredient
which
he
thought
made
his
black
ink
still
more
glossy
.
His
book
was
written
all
in
symbols
,
and
in
the
same
spirit
of
symbolism
he
decorated
it
,
causing
wonderful
foliage
to
creep
about
the
text
,
and
showing
the
blossom
of
certain
mystical
flowers
,
with
emblems
of
strange
creatures
,
caught
and
bound
in
rose
thickets
.
All
was
dedicated
to
love
and
a
lover
's
madness
,
and
there
were
songs
in
it
which
haunted
him
with
their
lilt
and
refrain
.
When
the
book
was
finished
it
replaced
the
loose
leaves
as
his
constant
companion
by
day
and
night
.
Three
times
a
day
he
repeated
his
ritual
to
himself
,
seeking
out
the
loneliest
places
in
the
woods
,
or
going
up
to
his
room
;
and
from
the
fixed
intentness
and
rapture
of
his
gaze
,
the
father
thought
him
still
severely
employed
in
the
questionable
process
of
composition
.
At
night
he
contrived
to
wake
for
his
strange
courtship
;
and
he
had
a
peculiar
ceremony
when
he
got
up
in
the
dark
and
lit
his
candle
.
From
a
steep
and
wild
hillside
,
not
far
from
the
house
,
he
had
cut
from
time
to
time
five
large
boughs
of
spiked
and
prickly
gorse
.
He
had
brought
them
into
the
house
,
one
by
one
,
and
had
hidden
them
in
the
big
box
that
stood
beside
his
bed
.
Often
he
woke
up
weeping
and
murmuring
to
himself
the
words
of
one
of
his
songs
,
and
then
when
he
had
lit
the
candle
,
he
would
draw
out
the
gorse-boughs
,
and
place
them
on
the
floor
,
and
taking
off
his
nightgown
,
gently
lay
himself
down
on
the
bed
of
thorns
and
spines
.
Lying
on
his
face
,
with
the
candle
and
the
book
before
him
,
he
would
softly
and
tenderly
repeat
the
praises
of
his
dear
,
dear
Annie
,
and
as
he
turned
over
page
after
page
,
and
saw
the
raised
gold
of
the
majuscules
glow
and
flame
in
the
candle-light
,
he
pressed
the
thorns
into
his
flesh
.
At
such
moments
he
tasted
in
all
its
acute
savor
the
joy
of
physical
pain
;
and
after
two
or
three
experiences
of
such
delights
he
altered
his
book
,
making
a
curious
sign
in
vermilion
on
the
margin
of
the
passages
where
he
was
to
inflict
on
himself
this
sweet
torture
.
Never
did
he
fail
to
wake
at
the
appointed
hour
,
a
strong
effort
of
will
broke
through
all
the
heaviness
of
sleep
,
and
he
would
rise
up
,
joyful
though
weeping
,
and
reverently
set
his
thorny
bed
upon
the
floor
,
offering
his
pain
with
his
praise
.
When
he
had
whispered
the
last
word
,
and
had
risen
from
the
ground
,
his
body
would
be
all
freckled
with
drops
of
blood
;
he
used
to
view
the
marks
with
pride
.
Here
and
there
a
spine
would
be
left
deep
in
the
flesh
,
and
he
would
pull
these
out
roughly
,
tearing
through
the
skin
.
On
some
nights
when
he
had
pressed
with
more
fervor
on
the
thorns
his
thighs
would
stream
with
blood
,
red
beads
standing
out
on
the
flesh
,
and
trickling
down
to
his
feet
.
He
had
some
difficulty
in
washing
away
the
bloodstains
so
as
not
to
leave
any
traces
to
attract
the
attention
of
the
servant
;
and
after
a
time
he
returned
no
more
to
his
bed
when
his
duty
had
been
accomplished
.
For
a
coverlet
he
had
a
dark
rug
,
a
good
deal
worn
,
and
in
this
he
would
wrap
his
naked
bleeding
body
,
and
lie
down
on
the
hard
floor
,
well
content
to
add
an
aching
rest
to
the
account
of
his
pleasures
.
He
was
covered
with
scars
,
and
those
that
healed
during
the
day
were
torn
open
afresh
at
night
;
the
pale
olive
skin
was
red
with
the
angry
marks
of
blood
,
and
the
graceful
form
of
the
young
man
appeared
like
the
body
of
a
tortured
martyr
.
He
grew
thinner
and
thinner
every
day
,
for
he
ate
but
little
;
the
skin
was
stretched
on
the
bones
of
his
face
,
and
the
black
eyes
burnt
in
dark
purple
hollows
.
His
relations
noticed
that
he
was
not
looking
well
.
"
Now
,
Lucian
,
it
's
perfect
madness
of
you
to
go
on
like
this
,
"
said
Miss
Deacon
,
one
morning
at
breakfast
.
"
Look
how
your
hand
shakes
;
some
people
would
say
that
you
have
been
taking
brandy
.
And
all
that
you
want
is
a
little
medicine
,
and
yet
you
wo
n't
be
advised
.
You
know
it
's
not
my
fault
;
I
have
asked
you
to
try
Dr.
Jelly
's
Cooling
Powders
again
and
again
.
"
He
remembered
the
forcible
exhibition
of
the
powders
when
he
was
a
boy
,
and
felt
thankful
that
those
days
were
over
.
He
only
grinned
at
his
cousin
and
swallowed
a
great
cup
of
strong
tea
to
steady
his
nerves
,
which
were
shaky
enough
.
Mrs.
Dixon
saw
him
one
day
in
Caermaen
;
it
was
very
hot
,
and
he
had
been
walking
rather
fast
.
The
scars
on
his
body
burnt
and
tingled
,
and
he
tottered
as
he
raised
his
hat
to
the
vicar
's
wife
.
She
decided
without
further
investigation
that
he
must
have
been
drinking
in
public-houses
.
"
It
seems
a
mercy
that
poor
Mrs.
Taylor
was
taken
,
"
she
said
to
her
husband
.
"
She
has
certainly
been
spared
a
great
deal
.
That
wretched
young
man
passed
me
this
afternoon
;
he
was
quite
intoxicated
.
"
"
How
very
said
,
"
said
Mr.
Dixon
.
"
A
little
port
,
my
dear
?
"
"
Thank
you
,
Merivale
,
I
will
have
another
glass
of
sherry
.
Dr.
Burrows
is
always
scolding
me
and
saying
I
must
take
something
to
keep
up
my
energy
,
and
this
sherry
is
so
weak
.
"
The
Dixons
were
not
teetotalers
.
They
regretted
it
deeply
,
and
blamed
the
doctor
,
who
"
insisted
on
some
stimulant
.
"
However
,
there
was
some
consolation
in
trying
to
convert
the
parish
to
total
abstinence
,
or
,
as
they
curiously
called
it
,
temperance
.
Old
women
were
warned
of
the
sin
of
taking
a
glass
of
beer
for
supper
;
aged
laborers
were
urged
to
try
Cork-ho
,
the
new
temperance
drink
;
an
uncouth
beverage
,
styled
coffee
,
was
dispensed
at
the
reading-room
.
Mr.
Dixon
preached
an
eloquent
"
temperance
"
sermon
,
soon
after
the
above
conversation
,
taking
as
his
text
:
Beware
of
the
leaven
of
the
Pharisees
.
In
his
discourse
he
showed
that
fermented
liquor
and
leaven
had
much
in
common
,
that
beer
was
at
the
present
day
"
put
away
"
during
Passover
by
the
strict
Jews
;
and
in
a
moving
peroration
he
urged
his
dear
brethren
,
"
and
more
especially
those
amongst
us
who
are
poor
in
this
world
's
goods
,
"
to
beware
indeed
of
that
evil
leaven
which
was
sapping
the
manhood
of
our
nation
.
Mrs.
Dixon
cried
after
church
:
"
Oh
,
Merivale
,
what
a
beautiful
sermon
!
How
earnest
you
were
.
I
hope
it
will
do
good
.
"
Mr.
Dixon
swallowed
his
port
with
great
decorum
,
but
his
wife
fuddled
herself
every
evening
with
cheap
sherry
.
She
was
quite
unaware
of
the
fact
,
and
sometimes
wondered
in
a
dim
way
why
she
always
had
to
scold
the
children
after
dinner
.
And
so
strange
things
sometimes
happened
in
the
nursery
,
and
now
and
then
the
children
looked
queerly
at
one
another
after
a
red-faced
woman
had
gone
out
,
panting
.
Lucian
knew
nothing
of
his
accuser
's
trials
,
but
he
was
not
long
in
hearing
of
his
own
intoxication
.
The
next
time
he
went
down
to
Caermaen
he
was
hailed
by
the
doctor
.
"
Been
drinking
again
today
?
"
"
No
,
"
said
Lucian
in
a
puzzled
voice
.
"
What
do
you
mean
?
"
"
Oh
,
well
,
if
you
have
n't
,
that
's
all
right
,
as
you
'll
be
able
to
take
a
drop
with
me
.
Come
along
in
?
"
Over
the
whisky
and
pipes
Lucian
heard
of
the
evil
rumors
affecting
his
character
.
"
Mrs.
Dixon
assured
me
you
were
staggering
from
one
side
of
the
street
to
the
other
.
You
quite
frightened
her
,
she
said
.
Then
she
asked
me
if
I
recommended
her
to
take
one
or
two
ounces
of
spirit
at
bedtime
for
the
palpitation
;
and
of
course
I
told
her
two
would
be
better
.
I
have
my
living
to
make
here
,
you
know
.
And
upon
my
word
,
I
think
she
wants
it
;
she
's
always
gurgling
inside
like
waterworks
.
I
wonder
how
old
Dixon
can
stand
it
.
"
"
I
like
'
ounces
of
spirit
,
'
"
said
Lucian
.
"
That
's
taking
it
medicinally
,
I
suppose
.
I
've
often
heard
of
ladies
who
have
to
'
take
it
medicinally
'
;
and
that
's
how
it
's
done
?
"
"
That
's
it
.
'
Dr
Burrows
wo
n't
listen
to
me
'
:
'
I
tell
him
how
I
dislike
the
taste
of
spirits
,
but
he
says
they
are
absolutely
necessary
for
my
constitution
'
:
'
my
medical
man
insists
on
something
at
bedtime
'
;
that
's
the
style
.
"
Lucian
laughed
gently
;
all
these
people
had
become
indifferent
to
him
;
he
could
no
longer
feel
savage
indignation
at
their
little
hypocrisies
and
malignancies
.
Their
voices
uttering
calumny
,
and
morality
,
and
futility
had
become
like
the
thin
shrill
angry
note
of
a
gnat
on
a
summer
evening
;
he
had
his
own
thoughts
and
his
own
life
,
and
he
passed
on
without
heeding
.
"
You
come
down
to
Caermaen
pretty
often
,
do
n't
you
?
"
said
the
doctor
.
"
I
've
seen
you
two
or
three
times
in
the
last
fortnight
.
"
"
Yes
,
I
enjoy
the
walk
.
"
"
Well
,
look
me
up
whenever
you
like
,
you
know
.
I
am
often
in
just
at
this
time
,
and
a
chat
with
a
human
being
is
n't
bad
,
now
and
then
.
It
's
a
change
for
me
;
I
'm
often
afraid
I
shall
lose
my
patients
.
"
The
doctor
had
the
weakness
of
these
terrible
puns
,
dragged
headlong
into
the
conversation
.
He
sometimes
exhibited
them
before
Mrs.
Gervase
,
who
would
smile
in
a
faint
and
dignified
manner
,
and
say
:
"
Ah
,
I
see
.
Very
amusing
indeed
.
We
had
an
old
coachmen
once
who
was
very
clever
,
I
believe
,
at
that
sort
of
thing
,
but
Mr.
Gervase
was
obliged
to
send
him
away
,
the
laughter
of
the
other
domestics
was
so
very
boisterous
.
"
Lucian
laughed
,
not
boisterously
,
but
good-humouredly
,
at
the
doctor
's
joke
.
He
liked
Burrows
,
feeling
that
he
was
a
man
and
not
an
automatic
gabbling
machine
.
"
You
look
a
little
pulled
down
,
"
said
the
doctor
,
when
Lucian
rose
to
go
.
"
No
,
you
do
n't
want
my
medicine
.
Plenty
of
beef
and
beer
will
do
you
more
good
than
drugs
.
I
daresay
it
's
the
hot
weather
that
has
thinned
you
a
bit
.
Oh
,
you
'll
be
all
right
again
in
a
month
.
"
As
Lucian
strolled
out
of
the
town
on
his
way
home
,
he
passed
a
small
crowd
of
urchins
assembled
at
the
corner
of
an
orchard
.
They
were
enjoying
themselves
immensely
.
The
"
healthy
"
boy
,
the
same
whom
he
had
seen
some
weeks
ago
operating
on
a
cat
,
seemed
to
have
recognized
his
selfishness
in
keeping
his
amusements
to
himself
.
He
had
found
a
poor
lost
puppy
,
a
little
creature
with
bright
pitiful
eyes
,
almost
human
in
their
fond
,
friendly
gaze
.
It
was
not
a
well-bred
little
dog
;
it
was
certainly
not
that
famous
puppy
"
by
Vick
out
of
Wasp
"
;
it
had
rough
hair
and
a
foolish
long
tail
which
it
wagged
beseechingly
,
at
once
deprecating
severity
and
asking
kindness
.
The
poor
animal
had
evidently
been
used
to
gentle
treatment
;
it
would
look
up
in
a
boy
's
face
,
and
give
a
leap
,
fawning
on
him
,
and
then
bark
in
a
small
doubtful
voice
,
and
cower
a
moment
on
the
ground
,
astonished
perhaps
at
the
strangeness
,
the
bustle
and
animation
.
The
boys
were
beside
themselves
with
eagerness
;
there
was
quite
a
babble
of
voices
,
arguing
,
discussing
,
suggesting
.
Each
one
had
a
plan
of
his
own
which
he
brought
before
the
leader
,
a
stout
and
sturdy
youth
.
"
Drown
him
!
What
be
you
thinkin
'
of
,
mun
?
"
he
was
saying
.
"
'
Tai
n't
no
sport
at
all
.
You
shut
your
mouth
,
gwaes
.
Be
you
goin
'
to
ask
your
mother
for
the
boiling-water
?
Is
,
Bob
Williams
,
I
do
know
all
that
:
but
where
be
you
a-going
to
get
the
fire
from
?
Be
quiet
,
mun
,
ca
n't
you
?
Thomas
Trevor
,
be
this
dog
yourn
or
mine
?
Now
,
look
you
,
if
you
do
n't
all
of
you
shut
your
bloody
mouths
,
I
'll
take
the
dog
'
ome
and
keep
him
.
There
now
!
"
He
was
a
born
leader
of
men
.
A
singular
depression
and
lowness
of
spirit
showed
itself
on
the
boys
'
faces
.
They
