'Ah!' growled5 S. Cohn; 'he sees what a fool he's been, and he'll take the next boat back.'
'But that would be desertion.'
'Well, he didn't mind deserting the business.'
Mr. Cohn's bewilderment increased with every letter. The boy was sleeping in sodden6 trenches7, sometimes without blankets; and instead of grumbling8 at that, his one grievance9 was that the regiment10 was not getting to the front. Heat and frost, hurricane and dust-storm—nothing came amiss. And he described himself as stronger than ever, and poured scorn on the medical wiseacre who had tried to refuse him.
'All the same,' sighed Hannah, 'I do hope they will just be used to guard the lines of communication.' She was full of war-knowledge acquired with painful eagerness, prattled11 of Basuto ponies12 and Mauser bullets, pontoons and pom-poms, knew the exact position of the armies, and marked her war-map with coloured pins.
Simon, too, had developed quite a literary talent under the pressure of so much vivid new life, and from his cheery letters she learned much that was not in the papers, especially in those tense days when the C.I.V.'S did at last get to the front—and remained there: tales of horses mercifully shot, and sheep mercilessly poisoned, and oxen dropping dead as they dragged the convoys13; tales of muddle14 and accident, tales of British soldiers slain15 by their own protective cannon16 as they lay behind ant-heaps facing the enemy, and British officers culled17 under the very eyes of the polo-match; tales of hospital and camp, of shirts turned sable18 and [68]putties worn to rags, and all the hidden miseries19 of uncleanliness and insanitation that underlie20 the glories of war. There were tales, too, of quarter-rations; but these she did not read to her husband, lest the mention of 'bully-beef' should remind him of how his son must be eating forbidden food. Once, even, two fat pigs were captured at a hungry moment for the battalion21. But there came a day when S. Cohn seized those letters and read them first. He began to speak of his boy at the war—nay, to read the letters to enthralled22 groups in the synagogue lobby—groups that swallowed without reproach the tripha meat cooked in Simon's mess-tin.
It was like being Gabbai over again.
Moreover, Simon's view of the Boer was so strictly23 orthodox as to give almost religious satisfaction to the proud parent. 'A canting hypocrite, a psalm24-singer and devil-dodger, he has no civilization worth the name, and his customs are filthy25. Since the great trek26 he has acquired, from long intercourse27 with his Kaffir slaves, many of the native's savage28 traits. In short, a born liar29, credulous30 and barbarous, crassly31 ignorant and inconceivably stubborn.'
'Crassly ignorant and inconceivably stubborn,' repeated S. Cohn, pausing impressively. 'Haven't I always said that? The boy only bears out what I knew without going there. But hear further! "Is it to be wondered at that the Boer farmer, hidden in the vast undulations of the endless veldt, with his wife, his children and his slaves, should lose all sense of proportion, ignorant of the outside world, his sole knowledge filtering through Jo-burgh?"'
As S. Cohn made another dramatic pause, it was [69]suddenly borne in on his wife with a stab of insight that he was reading a description of himself—nay, of herself, of her whole race, hidden in the great world, awaiting some vague future of glory that never came. The important voice of her husband broke again upon her reflections:
'"He has held many nights of supplication32 to his fetish, and is still unconvinced that his God of Battles is asleep."' The reader chuckled33, and a broad smile overspread the synagogue lobby. '"They are brave—oh, yes, but it is not what we mean by it—they are good fighters, because they have Dutch blood at the back of them, and a profound contempt for us. Their whole life has been spent on the open veldt (we are always fighting them on somebody's farm, who knows every inch of the ground), and they never risk anything except in the trap sort of man?uvres. The brave rush of our Tommies is unknown to them, and their slim nature would only see the idiocy34 of walking into a death-trap, cool as in a play. Were there ever two races less alike?"' wound up the youthful philosopher in his tent. '"I really do not see how they are to live together after the war."'
'That's easy enough,' S. Cohn had already commented to his wife as oracularly as if she did not read the same morning paper. 'Intermarriage! In a generation or two there will be one fine Anglo-African race. That's the solution—mark my words. And you can tell the boy as much—only don't say I told you to write to him.'
'Father says I'm to tell you intermarriage is the solution,' Mrs. Cohn wrote obediently. 'He really is getting much softer towards you.'
[70]'Tell father that's nonsense,' Simon wrote back. 'The worst individuals we have to deal with come from a Boer mother and an English father, deposited here by the first Transvaal war.'
S. Cohn snorted angrily at the message. 'That was because there were two Governments—he forgets there will be only one United Empire now.'
He was not appeased35 till Private Cohn was promoted, and sent home a thrilling adventure, which the proud reader was persuaded by the lobby to forward to the communal36 organ. The organ asked for a photograph to boot. Then S. Cohn felt not only Gabbai, but town councillor again.
This wonderful letter, of which S. Cohn distributed printed copies to the staff of the Emporium with a bean-feast air, ran:
'We go out every day—I am speaking of my own squadron—each officer taking his turn with twenty to fifty men, and sweep round the farms a few miles out; and we seldom come back without seeing Boers hanging round on the chance of a snipe at our flanks, or waiting to put up a trap if we go too far. The local commando fell on our cattle-guard the other day—a hundred and fifty to our twenty-five—and we suffered; it was a horrible bit of country. There was a young chap, Winstay—rather a pal37 of mine—he had a narrow squeak38, knocked over by a shot in his breast. I managed to get him safe back to camp—Heaven knows how!—and they made me a lance-corporal, and the beggar says I saved his life; but it was really through carrying a fat letter from his sister—not even his sweetheart. We chaff39 him at missing such a [71]romantic chance. He got off with a flesh wound, but there is a great blot40 of red ink on the letter. You may imagine we were not anxious to let our comrades go unavenged. My superiors being sick or otherwise occupied, I was allowed to make a night-march with thirty-five men on a farm nine miles away—just to get square. It was a nasty piece of work, as we were within a few miles of the Boer laager, three hundred strong. There was moonlight, too—it was like a dream, that strange, silent ride, with only the stumble of a horse breaking the regular thud of the hoofs41. We surrounded the farm in absolute silence, dismounting some thousand yards away, and fixing bayonets. I told the men I wanted no shots—that would have brought down the commando—but cold steel and silence. We crept up and swept the farm—it was weird42, but, alas43! they were out on the loot. The men were furious, but we live in hopes.'
The end was a trifle disappointing, but S. Cohn, too, lived in hopes—of some monstrous44 and memorable45 butchery. Even his wife had got used to the firing-line, now that neither shot nor shell could harm her boy. 'For He shall give His angels charge over thee.' She had come to think her secret daily repetition of the ninety-first Psalm talismanic46.
When Simon sent home the box which had held the chocolates presented by the Queen, a Boer bullet, and other curios, S. Cohn displayed them in his window, and the crowd and the business they brought him put him more and more in sympathy with Simon and the Empire. In conversation he deprecated the [72]non-militarism of the Jew: 'If I were only a younger man myself, sir....'
The night Mafeking was relieved, the Emporium was decorated with bunting from roof to basement, and a great illuminated47 window revealed nothing but stacks of khaki trouserings.
So that, although the good man still sulked over Simon to his wife, she was not deceived; and, the time drawing nigh for Simon's return, she began to look happily forward to a truly reunited family.
In her wildest anxiety it never occurred to her that it was her husband who would die. Yet this is what the irony48 of fate brought to pass. In the unending campaign which death wages with life, S. Cohn was slain, and Simon returned unscratched from the war to recite the Kaddish in his memory.
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1
jocose
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| adj.开玩笑的，滑稽的 | |
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diabolically
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inoculation
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| n.接芽；预防接种 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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prattled
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的过去式和过去分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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convoys
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| n.（有护航的）船队( convoy的名词复数 )；车队；护航（队）；护送队 | |
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14
muddle
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| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
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15
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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culled
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| v.挑选，剔除( cull的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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underlie
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| v.位于...之下，成为...的基础 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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22
enthralled
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| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的过去式和过去分词 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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psalm
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| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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26
trek
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| vi.作长途艰辛的旅行；n.长途艰苦的旅行 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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29
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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31
crassly
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| adv.粗鲁地，愚钝地 | |
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32
supplication
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| n.恳求，祈愿，哀求 | |
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33
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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idiocy
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| n.愚蠢 | |
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appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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communal
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| adj.公有的，公共的，公社的，公社制的 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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38
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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39
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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40
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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41
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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42
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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43
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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44
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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45
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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46
talismanic
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| adj.护身符的，避邪的 | |
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47
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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48
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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