Involved and dubious3 though the compliment might be, Theron felt himself flushing with satisfaction. He nodded his acknowledgment, and changed the topic.
“I was surprised to hear Father Forbes say that he did not preach,” he remarked.
“Why should he?” asked the doctor, indifferently. “I suppose he hasn't more than fifteen parishioners in a thousand who would understand him if he did, and of these probably twelve would join in a complaint to his Bishop4 about the heterodox tone of his sermon. There is no point in his going to all that pains, merely to incur5 that risk. Nobody wants him to preach, and he has reached an age where personal vanity no longer tempts6 him to do so. What IS wanted of him is that he should be the paternal7, ceremonial, authoritative8 head and centre of his flock, adviser9, monitor, overseer, elder brother, friend, patron, seigneur—whatever you like—everything except a bore. They draw the line at that. You see how diametrically opposed this Catholic point of view is to the Protestant.”
“The difference does seem extremely curious to me,” said Theron. “Now, those people in the hall—”
“Go on,” put in the doctor, as the other faltered10 hesitatingly. “I know what you were going to say. It struck you as odd that he should let them wait on the bench there, while he came up here to smoke.”
Theron smiled faintly. “I WAS thinking that my—my parishioners wouldn't have taken it so quietly. But of course—it is all so different!”
“As chalk from cheese!” said Dr. Ledsmar, lighting11 a fresh cigar. “I daresay every one you saw there had come either to take the pledge, or see to it that one of the others took it. That is the chief industry in the hall, so far as I have observed. Now discipline is an important element in the machinery12 here. Coming to take the pledge implies that you have been drunk and are now ashamed. Both states have their values, but they are opposed. Sitting on that bench tends to develop penitence13 to the prejudice of alcoholism. But at no stage would it ever occur to the occupant of the bench that he was the best judge of how long he was to sit there, or that his priest should interrupt his dinner or general personal routine, in order to administer that pledge. Now, I daresay you have no people at all coming to 'swear off.'”
The Rev14. Mr. Ware15 shook his head. “No; if a man with us got as bad as all that, he wouldn't come near the church at all. He'd simply drop out, and there would be an end to it.”
“Quite so,” interjected the doctor. “That is the voluntary system. But these fellows can't drop out. There's no bottom to the Catholic Church. Everything that's in, stays in. If you don't mind my saying so—of course I view you all impartially16 from the outside—but it seems logical to me that a church should exist for those who need its help, and not for those who by their own profession are so good already that it is they who help the church. Now, you turn a man out of your church who behaves badly: that must be on the theory that his remaining in would injure the church, and that in turn involves the idea that it is the excellent character of the parishioners which imparts virtue17 to the church. The Catholics' conception, you see, is quite the converse18. Such virtue as they keep in stock is on tap, so to speak, here in the church itself, and the parishioners come and get some for themselves according to their need for it. Some come every day, some only once a year, some perhaps never between their baptism and their funeral. But they all have a right here, the professional burglar every whit19 as much as the speckless20 saint. The only stipulation21 is that they oughtn't to come under false pretences22: the burglar is in honor bound not to pass himself off to his priest as the saint. But that is merely a moral obligation, established in the burglar's own interest. It does him no good to come unless he feels that he is playing the rules of the game, and one of these is confession23. If he cheats there, he knows that he is cheating nobody but himself, and might much better have stopped away altogether.”
Theron nodded his head comprehendingly. He had a great many views about the Romanish rite24 of confession which did not at all square with this statement of the case, but this did not seem a specially25 fit time for bringing them forth26. There was indeed a sense of languid repletion27 in his mind, as if it had been overfed and wanted to lie down for awhile. He contented28 himself with nodding again, and murmuring reflectively, “Yes, it is all strangely different.”
His tone was an invitation to silence; and the doctor turned his attention to the cigar, studying its ash for a minute with an air of deep meditation29, and then solemnly blowing out a slow series of smoke-rings. Theron watched him with an indolent, placid30 eye, wondering lazily if it was, after all, so very pleasant to smoke.
There fell upon this silence—with a softness so delicate that it came almost like a progression in the hush—the sound of sweet music. For a little, strain and source were alike indefinite—an impalpable setting to harmony of the mellowed31 light, the perfumed opalescence32 of the air, the luxury and charm of the room. Then it rose as by a sweeping33 curve of beauty, into a firm, calm, severe melody, delicious to the ear, but as cold in the mind's vision as moonlit sculpture. It went on upward with stately collectedness of power, till the atmosphere seemed all alive with the trembling consciousness of the presence of lofty souls, sternly pure and pitilessly great.
Theron found himself moved as he had never been before. He almost resented the discovery, when it was presented to him by the prosaic34, mechanical side of his brain, that he was listening to organ-music, and that it came through the open window from the church close by. He would fain have reclined in his chair and closed his eyes, and saturated35 himself with the uttermost fulness of the sensation. Yet, in absurd despite of himself, he rose and moved over to the window.
Only a narrow alley36 separated the pastorate from the church; Mr. Ware could have touched with a walking-stick the opposite wall. Indirectly37 facing him was the arched and mullioned top of a great window. A dim light from within shone through the more translucent38 portions of the glass below, throwing out faint little bars of party-colored radiance upon the blackness of the deep passage-way. He could vaguely39 trace by these the outlines of some sort of picture on the window. There were human figures in it, and—yes—up here in the centre, nearest him, was a woman's head. There was a halo about it, engirdling rich, flowing waves of reddish hair, the lights in which glowed like flame. The face itself was barely distinguishable, but its half-suggested form raised a curious sense of resemblance to some other face. He looked at it closely, blankly, the noble music throbbing40 through his brain meanwhile.
“It's that Madden girl!” he suddenly heard a voice say by his side. Dr. Ledsmar had followed him to the window, and was close at his shoulder.
Theron's thoughts were upon the puzzling shadowed lineaments on the stained glass. He saw now in a flash the resemblance which had baffled him. “It IS like her, of course,” he said.
“Yes, unfortunately, it IS just like her,” replied the doctor, with a hostile note in his voice. “Whenever I am dining here, she always goes in and kicks up that racket. She knows I hate it.”
“Oh, you mean that it is she who is playing,” remarked Theron. “I thought you referred to—at least—I was thinking of—”
His sentence died off in inconsequence. He had a feeling that he did not want to talk with the doctor about the stained-glass likeness41. The music had sunk away now into fragmentary and unconnected passages, broken here and there by abrupt42 stops. Dr. Ledsmar stretched an arm out past him and shut the window. “Let's hear as little of the row as we can,” he said, and the two went back to their chairs.
“Pardon me for the question,” the Rev. Mr. Ware said, after a pause which began to affect him as constrained43, “but something you said about dining—you don't live here, then? In the house, I mean?”
The doctor laughed—a characteristically abrupt, dry little laugh, which struck Theron at once as bearing a sort of black-sheep relationship to the priest's habitual44 chuckle45. “That must have been puzzling you no end,” he said—“that notion that the pastorate kept a devil's advocate on the premises46. No, Mr. Ware, I don't live here. I inhabit a house of my own—you may have seen it—an old-fashioned place up beyond the race-course, with a sort of tower at the back, and a big garden. But I dine here three or four times a week. It is an old arrangement of ours. Vincent and I have been friends for many years now. We are quite alone in the world, we two—much to our mutual47 satisfaction. You must come up and see me some time; come up and have a look over the books we were speaking of.”
“I am much obliged,” said Theron, without enthusiasm. The thought of the doctor by himself did not attract him greatly.
The reservation in his tone seemed to interest the doctor. “I suppose you are the first man I have asked in a dozen years,” he remarked, frankly48 willing that the young minister should appreciate the favor extended him. “It must be fully that since anybody but Vincent Forbes has been under my roof; that is, of my own species, I mean.”
“You live there quite alone,” commented Theron.
“Quite—with my dogs and cats and lizards—and my Chinaman. I mustn't forget him.” The doctor noted49 the inquiry50 in the other's lifted brows, and smilingly explained. “He is my solitary51 servant. Possibly he might not appeal to you much; but I can assure you he used to interest Octavius a great deal when I first brought him here, ten years ago or so. He afforded occupation for all the idle boys in the village for a twelve-month at least. They used to lie in wait for him all day long, with stones or horse-chestnuts or snowballs, according to the season. The Irishmen from the wagon-works nearly killed him once or twice, but he patiently lived it all down. The Chinaman has the patience to live everything down—the Caucasian races included. He will see us all to bed, will that gentleman with the pigtail!”
The music over in the church had lifted itself again into form and sequence, and defied the closed window. If anything, it was louder than before, and the sonorous52 roar of the bass-pedals seemed to be shaking the very walls. It was something with a big-lunged, exultant53, triumphing swing in it—something which ought to have been sung on the battlefield at the close of day by the whole jubilant army of victors. It was impossible to pretend not to be listening to it; but the doctor submitted with an obvious scowl54, and bit off the tip of his third cigar with an annoyed air.
“You don't seem to care much for music,” suggested Mr. Ware, when a lull55 came.
Dr. Ledsmar looked up, lighted match in hand. “Say musicians!” he growled56. “Has it ever occurred to you,” he went on, between puffs57 at the flame, “that the only animals who make the noises we call music are of the bird family—a debased offshoot of the reptilian58 creation—the very lowest types of the vertebrata now in existence? I insist upon the parallel among humans. I have in my time, sir, had considerable opportunities for studying close at hand the various orders of mammalia who devote themselves to what they describe as the arts. It may sound a harsh judgement, but I am convinced that musicians stand on the very bottom rung of the ladder in the sub-cellar of human intelligence, even lower than painters and actors.”
This seemed such unqualified nonsense to the Rev. Mr. Ware that he offered no comment whatever upon it. He tried instead to divert his thoughts to the stormy strains which rolled in through the vibrating brickwork, and to picture to himself the large, capable figure of Miss Madden seated in the half-light at the organ-board, swaying to and fro in a splendid ecstasy59 of power as she evoked60 at will this superb and ordered uproar61. But the doctor broke insistently62 in upon his musings.
“All art, so-called, is decay,” he said, raising his voice. “When a race begins to brood on the beautiful—so-called—it is a sign of rot, of getting ready to fall from the tree. Take the Jews—those marvellous old fellows—who were never more than a handful, yet have imposed the rule of their ideas and their gods upon us for fifteen hundred years. Why? They were forbidden by their most fundamental law to make sculptures or pictures. That was at a time when the Egyptians, when the Assyrians, and other Semites, were running to artistic63 riot. Every great museum in the world now has whole floors devoted64 to statues from the Nile, and marvellous carvings65 from the palaces of Sargon and Assurbanipal. You can get the artistic remains66 of the Jews during that whole period into a child's wheelbarrow. They had the sense and strength to penalize67 art; they alone survived. They saw the Egyptians go, the Assyrians go, the Greeks go, the late Romans go, the Moors68 in Spain go—all the artistic peoples perish. They remained triumphing over all. Now at last their long-belated apogee69 is here; their decline is at hand. I am told that in this present generation in Europe the Jews are producing a great lot of young painters and sculptors70 and actors, just as for a century they have been producing famous composers and musicians. That means the end of the Jews!”
“What! have you only got as far as that?” came the welcome interruption of a cheery voice. Father Forbes had entered the room, and stood looking down with a whimsical twinkle in his eye from one to the other of his guests.
“You must have been taken over the ground at a very slow pace, Mr. Ware,” he continued, chuckling71 softly, “to have arrived merely at the collapse72 of the New Jerusalem. I fancied I had given him time enough to bring you straight up to the end of all of us, with that Chinaman of his gently slapping our graves with his pigtail. That's where the doctor always winds up, if he's allowed to run his course.”
“It has all been very interesting, extremely so, I assure you,” faltered Theron. It had become suddenly apparent to him that he desired nothing so much as to make his escape—that he had indeed only been waiting for the host's return to do so.
He rose at this, and explained that he must be going. No special effort being put forth to restrain him, he presently made his way out, Father Forbes hospitably73 following him down to the door, and putting a very gracious cordiality into his adieux.
The night was warm and black. Theron stood still in it the moment the pastorate door had closed; the sudden darkness was so thick that it was as if he had closed his eyes. His dominant74 sensation was of a deep relief and rest after some undue75 fatigue76. It crossed his mind that drunken men probably felt like that as they leaned against things on their way home. He was affected77 himself, he saw, by the weariness and half-nausea following a mental intoxication78. The conceit79 pleased him, and he smiled to himself as he turned and took the first homeward steps. It must be growing late, he thought. Alice would be wondering as she waited.
There was a street lamp at the corner, and as he walked toward it he noted all at once that his feet were keeping step to the movement of the music proceeding80 from the organ within the church—a vaguely processional air, marked enough in measure, but still with a dreamy effect. It became a pleasure to identify his progress with the quaint81 rhythm of sound as he sauntered along. He discovered, as he neared the light, that he was instinctively82 stepping over the seams in the flagstone sidewalk as he had done as a boy. He smiled again at this. There was something exceptionally juvenile83 and buoyant about his mood, now that he examined it. He set it down as a reaction from that doctor's extravagant84 and incendiary talk. One thing was certain—he would never be caught up at that house beyond the race-course, with its reptiles85 and its Chinaman. Should he ever even go to the pastorate again? He decided86 not to quite definitely answer THAT in the negative, but as he felt now, the chances were all against it.
Turning the corner, and walking off into the shadows along the side of the huge church building, Theron noted, almost at the end of the edifice87, a small door—the entrance to a porch coming out to the sidewalk—which stood wide open. A thin, pale, vertical88 line of light showed that the inner door, too, was ajar.
Through this wee aperture89 the organ-music, reduced and mellowed by distance, came to him again with that same curious, intimate, personal relation which had so moved him at the start, before the doctor closed the window. It was as if it was being played for him alone.
He paused for a doubting minute or two, with bowed head, listening to the exquisite90 harmony which floated out to caress91 and soothe92 and enfold him. There was no spiritual, or at least pious93, effect in it now. He fancied that it must be secular94 music, or, if not, then something adapted to marriage ceremonies—rich, vivid, passionate95, a celebration of beauty and the glory of possession, with its ruling note of joy only heightened by soft, wooing interludes, and here and there the tremor96 of a fond, timid little sob97.
Theron turned away irresolutely98, half frightened at the undreamt-of impression this music was making upon him. Then, all at once, he wheeled and stepped boldly into the porch, pushing the inner door open and hearing it rustle99 against its leathern frame as it swung to behind him.
He had never been inside a Catholic church before.
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1
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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2
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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6
tempts
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| v.引诱或怂恿（某人）干不正当的事( tempt的第三人称单数 )；使想要 | |
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7
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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authoritative
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| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
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adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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11
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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12
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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15
ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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18
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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speckless
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| adj.无斑点的，无瑕疵的 | |
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stipulation
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| n.契约，规定，条文；条款说明 | |
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pretences
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| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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24
rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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repletion
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| n.充满，吃饱 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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31
mellowed
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| （使）成熟( mellow的过去式和过去分词 )； 使色彩更加柔和，使酒更加醇香 | |
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32
opalescence
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| n.乳白光，蛋白色光；乳光 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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38
translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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40
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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41
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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42
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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43
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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45
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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46
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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47
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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48
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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49
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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50
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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51
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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52
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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53
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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54
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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55
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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56
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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57
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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58
reptilian
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| adj.（像）爬行动物的；（像）爬虫的；卑躬屈节的；卑鄙的n.两栖动物；卑劣的人 | |
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59
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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60
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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61
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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62
insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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63
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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penalize
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| vt.对…处以刑罚，宣告…有罪；处罚 | |
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moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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apogee
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| n.远地点；极点；顶点 | |
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sculptors
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| 雕刻家，雕塑家( sculptor的名词复数 )； [天]玉夫座 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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secular
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| n.牧师，凡人；adj.世俗的，现世的，不朽的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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irresolutely
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| adv.优柔寡断地 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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