Now, the first man who emerged from the big gate that afternoon happened, as luck would have it, to be Richard Plantagenet, in his striped college blazer, on his way to the barges4. Gillingham took his arm at once, as if they were boon5 companions.
'Are you engaged this afternoon?' he inquired with quite friendly interest. 'Because, if not, I should so much like the advantage of your advice and assistance. My governor's coming up next week for a few days to Oxford6, and he wants some rooms—nice rooms to entertain in. He won't go to the Randolph—banal, very, don't you know—because he'll want to see friends a good deal. He's convivial7, the governor; and he'd like a place where they'd be able to cook a decent dinner. Now, Edward Street would do, I should think. First-rate rooms in Edward Street. Can you come round and help me?'
He said it with an amount of empressement that was really flattering. Now, Dick had nothing particular to do that afternoon, though he had been bound for the river; but he always liked a stroll with that brilliant Gillingham, whom he had never ceased to admire as a creature from another social sphere—a cross between Lord Byron and the Admirable Crichton. So he put off his row, and walked round to Edward Street, the most fashionable quarter for high-class lodgings8 to be found in Oxford. Sir Bernard, it seemed, had just returned to England for a few short weeks from his Roumanian mission, and was anxious to get decent rooms, his son said—'the sort of rooms, don't you know, where one can dine one's women folk, for he knows all the dons' families.' They looked at half a dozen sets, all in the best houses, and Gillingham finally selected a suite9 at ten guineas. Dick opened his eyes with astonishment10 at that lordly figure: he never really knew till then one could pay so much for lodgings. But he concealed11 his surprise from the Born Poet, his own pride having early taught him that great lesson in life of nil12 admirari, which is far more necessary to social salvation13 in snob-ridden England than ever it could have been in the Rome of the C?sars.
On their way back to college, after a stroll round the meadows, they met a very small telegraph boy at the doors of Durham.
'Message for you, sir,' the porter said, touching14 his hat to Dick; and in great doubt and trepidation15, for to him a telegram was a most rare event, Dick took it and opened it.
His face flushed crimson16 as he read the contents; but he saw in a second the only way out of it was to put the best face on things.
'Why, my father's coming up, too!' he said, turning round to Gillingham. 'He'll arrive tomorrow. I—I must go this moment and hunt up some rooms for him. My sister doesn't say by what train he's coming; but he evidently means to stay, from what she tells me.'
'One good turn deserves another,' Gillingham drawled out carelessly. 'I don't mind going round with you and having another hunt. I should think that second set we saw round the corner would just about suit him.'
The second set had been rated at seven guineas a week. Dick was weak enough to colour again.
'Oh no,' he answered hurriedly. 'I—I'd prefer to go alone. Of course, I shall want some much cheaper place than that. I think I can get the kind of thing I require in Grove17 Street.'
'As you will,' Gillingham answered lightly, nodding a brisk farewell, and turning back into quad18. 'Far be it from me to inflict19 my company unwillingly20 on any gentleman anywhere. I'm all for Auberon Herbert and pure individualism. I say you, Faussett, here's a game;' and he walked mysteriously round the corner by the Warden's Lodgings. He dropped his voice to a whisper: 'The Head of the Plantagenets is coming up tomorrow to visit the Prince of the Blood—fact! I give you my word for it. So we'll have an opportunity at last of finding out who the dickens the fellow is, and where on earth he inherited the proud name of Plantagenet from.'
'There were some Plantagenets at Leeds—no; I think it was Sheffield,' Faussett put in, trying to remember. 'Somebody was saying to me the other day this man might be related to them. The family's extinct, and left a lot of money.'
'Then they can't have anything to do with our Prince of the Blood,' Gillingham answered carelessly; 'for he isn't a bit extinct, but alive and kicking: and he hasn't got a crooked21 sixpence in the world to bless himself with. He lives on cold tea and Huntley and Palmer's biscuits. But he's not a bad sort, either, when you come to know him; but you've got to know him first, as the poet observes: and he's really a fearful swell22 at the history of the Plantagenets.'
Dick passed a troubled night. Terrible possibilities loomed23 vague before him. Next day he was down at the first two trains by which he thought it at all possible his father might arrive; and his vigilance was rewarded by finding Mr. Plantagenet delivered by the second. The Head of the House was considerably24 surprised, and not a little disappointed, when he saw his son and heir awaiting him on the platform.
'What, you here, Dick!' he cried. 'Why, I wanted to surprise you. I intended to take my modest room for the night at the same hotel at which you stopped—the Saracen's Head, if I recollect25 the name aright—and then to drop in upon you quite unexpectedly about lunch-time.'
'Maud telegraphed to me that you were coming, father,' Dick answered, taking his hand, it must be acknowledged, a trifle less warmly than filial feeling might have dictated26. Then his face grew fiery27 red. 'But I've engaged rooms for you,' he went on, 'not at an inn, on purpose. I hope, father, for your own sake, as well as for mine, while you're here in Oxford you won't even so much as enter one.'
It was a hard thing to have to say; but, for very shame's sake, Dick felt he must muster28 up courage to say it.
As for Mr. Plantagenet himself, poor old sot that he was, a touch of manly29 pride brought the colour just for once to his own swollen30 cheek.
'I hope, Richard,' he said, drawing himself up very erect—for he had a fine carriage still, in spite of all his degradation—'I hope I have sufficient sense of what becomes a gentleman, in a society of gentlemen, to think of doing anything that would I disgrace myself, or disgrace my son, or disgrace my name, or my literary reputation—which must be well known to many students of English literature in this University—by any unbecoming act of any description. And I take it hardly, Richard, that my eldest31 son, for whom I have made such sacrifices'—Mr. Plantagenet had used that phrase so often already in the parlour of the White Horse that he had almost come by this time to believe himself there was really some truth in it—'should greet me with such marked distrust on the very outset of a visit to which I had looked forward with so much pride and pleasure.'
It was quite a dignified32 speech for Mr. Plan-tagenet. Dick's, heart was touched by it.
'I beg your pardon, father,' he replied in a very low tone. 'I'm sorry if I've hurt you. But I meant no rudeness. I've engaged pleasant lodgings for you in a very nice street, and I'm sure I'll do everything in my power to make your visit a happy one.'
As he spoke33 he almost believed his father would rise for once to the height of the circumstances, and behave himself circumspectly35 with decorum and dignity during his few days at Oxford.
To do Mr. Plantagenet justice, indeed, he tried very hard to keep straight for once, and during all his stay he never even entered the doors of a hotel or public-house. Nay36, more; in Dick's own rooms, as Dick noticed with pleasure, he was circumspect34 in his drinking. It flattered his vanity and his social pretensions37 to be introduced to his son's friends and to walk at his ease through the grounds of the college. Once more for a day or two Edmund Plantagenet felt himself a gentleman among gentlemen.
Dick kept as close to him as possible, except at lecture hours; and then, as far as he could, he handed him over to the friendly care of Gillespie, who mounted guard in turn, and seemed to enter silently into the spirit of the situation. As much as possible, on the other hand, Dick avoided for those days Gillingham and Faussett's set, whose only wish, he felt sure, would be to draw his father into wild talk about the Plantagenet pedigree—a subject which Dick himself, in spite of his profound faith, had the good sense to keep always most sedulously38 in the background.
For the first three days Dick was enabled to write nightly and report to Maud that so far all went well, and there were no signs of a catastrophe39. But on the fourth day, as ill-luck would have it, Gillingham came round to Faussett's rooms full of a chance discovery he had that moment lighted upon.
'Why, who'd ever believe it?' he cried, all agog40. 'This man Plantagenet, who's come up to see his son—the Prince of the Blood—is a decayed writer, a man of letters of the Alaric Watts41 and Leigh Hunt period, not unheard of in his day as an inflated42 essayist. I know a lot of his stuff by heart—Hazlitt-and-water sort of style; De Quincey gone mad, with a touch of Bulwer. Learnt it when I was a boy, and we lived at Constantinople. He's the man who used to gush43 under the name of Barry Neville!'
'How did you find it out?' Faussett inquired, all eagerness.
'Why, I happened to turn out a “Dictionary of Pseudonyms” at the union just now, in search of somebody else; and there the name Plantagenet caught my eye by chance. So of course I read, and, looking closer, I found this fact about the old man and his origin. It's extremely interesting. So, to make quite sure, I boarded Plantagenet five minutes ago with the point-blank question. “Hullo, Prince,” said I, “I see your father's Barry Neville, the writer.” He coloured up to his eyes, as he does—it's a charming girlish trick of his; but he admitted the impeachment44. There! he's crossing the quad now. I wonder what the dickens he's done with his governor!'
'I'll run up to his rooms and see,' Faussett answered, laughing. 'He keeps the old fellow pretty close—in cotton wool, so to speak. Won't trust him out alone, and sets Gillespie to watch him. But an Exeter man tells me he's seen the same figure down at a place called Chiddingwick, where he lives, in Surrey; and according to him, he's a rare old buffer45. I'll go and make his acquaintance, now his R'yal Highness has gone off unattended to lecture; we'll have some sport out of him.'
And he disappeared, brimming over, up the steps of the New Buildings.
All that afternoon, in fact, Richard noticed for himself that some change had come over his father's spirit. Mr. Plantagenet was more silent, and yet even more grandiose46 and regal than ever. He hadn't been drinking, thank Heaven—not quite so bad as that, for Dick knew only too well the signs of drink in his father's face and his father's actions; but he had altered in demeanour, somehow, and was puffed47 up with personal dignity even more markedly than usual. He sat in, and talked a great deal about the grand days of his youth, and he dwelt so much upon the past glories of Lady Postlethwaite's salon48 and the people he used to meet there that Dick began to wonder what on earth it portended49.
'You'll come round to my rooms, father, after Hall?' he asked at last, as Mr. Plantagenet rose to leave just before evening chapel50. 'Gillespie'll be here, and one or two other fellows.'
Mr. Plantagenet smiled dubiously51.
'No, no, my boy,' he answered in his lightest and airiest manner. 'You must excuse me. This evening, you must really excuse me. To tell you the truth, Richard'—with profound importance—'I have an engagement elsewhere.'
'An engagement, father! You have an engagement! And in Oxford, too,' Dick faltered52 out. 'Why, how on earth can you have managed to pick up an engagement?'
Mr. Plantagenet drew himself up as he was wont53 to do for the beginning of a quadrille, and, assuming an air of offended dignity, replied with much hauteur54:
'I am not in the habit, Richard, of accounting55 for my engagements, good, bad, or indifferent, to my own children. I am of age, I fancy. Finding myself here at Oxford in a congenial society—in the society to which I may venture to say I was brought up, and of which, but for unfortunate circumstances, I ought always to have made a brilliant member—finding myself here in my natural surroundings, I repeat, I have, of course, picked up, as you coarsely put it, a few private acquaintances on my own account. I'm not so entirely56 dependent as you suppose upon you, Richard, for my introduction to Oxford society. My own personal qualities and characteristics, I hope, go a little way, at least, towards securing me respect and consideration in whatever social surroundings I may happen to be mixing.'
And Mr. Plantagenet shook out a clean white cambric pocket-handkerchief ostentatiously, to wipe his eyes, in which a slight dew was supposed to have insensibly collected at the thought of Richard's unfilial depreciation57 of his qualities and opportunities.
'I'm sorry I've offended you, father,' Dick answered hastily. 'I'm sure I didn't mean to. But I do hope—I do hope—if you'll allow me to say so, you're not going round to spend the evening—at any other undergraduate's rooms—not at Gillingham's or Faussett's.'
Mr. Plantagenet shuffled58 uneasily: in point of fact, he looked very much as he had been wont to look in days gone by, when the landlady59 at the White Horse inquired of him now and again how soon he intended to settle his little account for brandy-and-sodas.
'I choose my own acquaintances, Richard,' he answered, with as much dignity as he could easily command. I don't permit myself to be dictated to in matters like this by my own children. Your neighbour Mr. Faussett appears to me a very intelligent and gentlemanly young man: a young man such as I was accustomed to associate with myself in my own early days, before I married your poor dear mother: not like your set, Richard, who are far from being what I myself consider thoroughly60 gentlemanly. Mere61 professional young men, your set, my dear boy: very worthy62, no doubt, and hard-working, and respectable, like this excellent Gillespie; but not with that cachet, that indefinable something, that invisible hall-mark of true blood and breeding, that I observe with pleasure in your neighbour Faussett. It's not your fault, my poor boy: I recognise freely that it's not your fault. You take after your mother. She's a dear good soul, your mother'—pocket-handkerchief lightly applied63 again—'but she's not a Plantagenet, Richard: she's not a Planta-genet.'
And with this parting shot neatly64 delivered point-blank at Dick's crimson face, the offended father sailed majestically65 out of the room and strode down the staircase.
Dick's cheek was hot and red with mingled66 pride and annoyance67; but he answered nothing. Far be it from him to correct or rebuke68 by word or deed the living Head of the House of Plantagenet.
'I hope to God,' he thought to himself piteously, 'Faussett hasn't asked him on purpose to try and make an exhibition of him. But what on earth else can he have wanted to ask him for, I wonder?'
At that very same moment Faussett was stopping Trevor Gillingham in the Chapel Quad with a characteristic invitation for a wine-party that evening.
'drop in and have a glass of claret with me after Hall, Gillingham,' he said, laughing. 'I've got a guest coming to-night. I've asked Plan-tagenet's father round to my rooms at eight. He'll be in splendid form. He's awfully69 amusing when he talks at his ease, I'm told. Do come and give us one of your rousing recitations. I want to make things as lively as I can, you know.'
Gillingham smiled the tolerant smile of the Born Poet.
'All right, my dear boy,' he answered. 'I'll come. It'll be stock-in-trade to me, no doubt, for an unborn drama. Though Plantagenet's not half a bad sort of fellow, after all, when you come to know him, in spite of his smugging. Still, I'll come, and look on: an experience, of course, is always an experience. The poet's life must necessarily be made up of infinite experiences. Do you think Shakespeare always kept to the beaten path of humanity? A poet can't afford it. He must see some good—of a sort—in everything; for he must see in it at least material for a tragedy or a comedy.'
With which comfortable assurance to salve his poetical70 conscience the Born Bard71 strolled off, in cap and gown, with an easy lounging gait, to evening chapel.
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1
gregarious
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| adj.群居的，喜好群居的 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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convivial
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| adj.狂欢的，欢乐的 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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nil
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| n.无，全无，零 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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quad
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| n.四方院；四胞胎之一；v.在…填补空铅 | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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unwillingly
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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dictated
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fiery
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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manly
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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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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circumspect
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| adj.慎重的，谨慎的 | |
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circumspectly
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| adv.慎重地，留心地 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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sedulously
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| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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agog
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| adj.兴奋的，有强烈兴趣的； adv.渴望地 | |
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watts
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| （电力计量单位）瓦，瓦特( watt的名词复数 ) | |
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inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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impeachment
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| n.弹劾；控告；怀疑 | |
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buffer
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| n.起缓冲作用的人(或物)，缓冲器；vt.缓冲 | |
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grandiose
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| adj.宏伟的，宏大的，堂皇的，铺张的 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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portended
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| v.预示( portend的过去式和过去分词 )；预兆；给…以警告；预告 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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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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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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hauteur
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| n.傲慢 | |
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accounting
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| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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depreciation
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| n.价值低落，贬值，蔑视，贬低 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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65
majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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66
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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67
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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68
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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69
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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70
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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71
bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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