Lord Badgery closed his eyes and began to contemplate3. Found! What a room he would have! There would be nothing like it in the world. The frescoes4, the fireplace, the mirrors, the ceiling.... And a small, shrivelled old man clambering about the scaffolding, agile5 and quick like one of those whiskered little monkeys at the Zoo, painting away, painting away.... Fanny Kemble as Belvidera, Hector and Andromache, or why not the Duke of Clarence in the Butt6, the Duke of Malmsey, the Butt of Clarence. ... Lord Badgery was asleep.
Spode did not lag long behind his telegram. He was at Badgery House by six o'clock. His lordship was in the nineteenth-century chamber7, engaged in clearing away with his own hands the bric-à-brac. Spode found him looking hot and out of breath.
"Ah, there you are," said Lord Badgery. You see me already preparing for the great man's coming. Now you must tell me all about him.
"He's older even than I thought," said Spode. "He's ninety-seven this year. Born in 1816. Incredible, isn't it! There, I'm beginning at the wrong end."
"I won't tell you all the incidents of the hunt. You've no idea what a job I had to run him to earth. It was like a Sherlock Holmes story, immensely elaborate, too elaborate. I shall write a book about it some day. At any rate, I found him at last."
"Where?"
"In a sort of respectable slum in Holloway, older and poorer and lonelier than you could have believed possible. I found out how it was he came to be forgotten, how he came to drop out of life in the way he did. He took it into his head, somewhere about the 'sixties, to go to Palestine to get local colour for his religious pictures—scapegoats and things, you know. Well, he went to Jerusalem and then on to Mount Lebanon and on and on, and then, somewhere in the middle of Asia Minor9, he got stuck. He got stuck for about forty years."
"But what did he do all that time?"
"Oh, he painted, and started a mission, and converted three Turks, and taught the local Pashas the rudiments10 of English, Latin, and perspective, and God knows what else. Then, in about 1904, it seems to have occurred to him that he was getting rather old and had been away from home for rather a long time. So he made his way back to England, only to find that everyone he had known was dead, that the dealers11 had never heard of him and wouldn't buy his pictures, that he was simply a ridiculous old figure of fun. So he got a job as a drawing-master in a girl's school in Holloway, and there he's been ever since, growing older and older, and feebler and feebler, and blinder and deafer, and generally more gaga, until finally the school has given him the sack. He had about ten pounds in the world when I found him. He lives in a kind of black hole in a basement full of beetles12. When his ten pounds are spent, I suppose he'll just quietly die there."
Badgery held up a white hand. "No more, no more. I find literature quite depressing enough. I insist that life at least shall be a little gayer. Did you tell him I wanted him to paint my room?"
"But he can't paint. He's too blind and palsied."
"Can't paint?" Badgery exclaimed in horror. "Then what's the good of the old creature?"
"Well, if you put it like that...." Spode began.
"I shall never have my frescoes. Ring the bell, will you?"
Spode rang.
"What right has Tillotson to go on existing if he can't paint?" went on Lord Badgery petulantly13. "After all, that was his only justification14 for occupying a place in the sun."
"He doesn't have much sun in his basement."
The footman appeared at the door.
"Get someone to put all these things back in their places," Lord Badgery commanded, indicating with a wave of the hand the ravaged15 cases, the confusion of glass and china with which he had littered the floor, the pictures unhooked. "We'll go to the library, Spode; it's more comfortable there."
He led the way through the long gallery and down the stairs.
"I'm sorry old Tillotson has been such a disappointment," said Spode sympathetically.
"Let us talk about something else; he ceases to interest me.
"But don't you think we ought to do something about him? He's only got ten pounds between him and the workhouse. And if you'd seen the black-beetles in his basement!"
"Enough enough. I'll do everything you think fitting."
"I thought we might get up a subscription16 amongst lovers of the arts."
"There aren't any," said Badgery.
"Not unless you give them something for their money."
"That's true. I hadn't thought of that." Spode was silent for a moment. "We might have a dinner in his honour. The Great Tillotson Banquet. Doyen of the British Art. A Link with the Past. Can't you see it in the papers? I'd make a stunt19 of it in the World's Review. That ought to bring in the snobs20."
"And we'll invite a lot of artists and critics—all the ones who can't stand one another. It will be fun to see them squabbling." Badgery laughed. Then his face darkened once again. "Still," he added, "it'll be a very poor second best to my frescoes. You'll stay to dinner, of course."
"Well, since you suggest it. Thanks very much."
点击收听单词发音
1 somnolence | |
n.想睡,梦幻;欲寐;嗜睡;嗜眠 | |
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2 surfeit | |
v.使饮食过度;n.(食物)过量,过度 | |
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3 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
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4 frescoes | |
n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 );温壁画技法,湿壁画 | |
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5 agile | |
adj.敏捷的,灵活的 | |
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6 butt | |
n.笑柄;烟蒂;枪托;臀部;v.用头撞或顶 | |
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7 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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8 genially | |
adv.亲切地,和蔼地;快活地 | |
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9 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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10 rudiments | |
n.基础知识,入门 | |
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11 dealers | |
n.商人( dealer的名词复数 );贩毒者;毒品贩子;发牌者 | |
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12 beetles | |
n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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13 petulantly | |
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14 justification | |
n.正当的理由;辩解的理由 | |
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15 ravaged | |
毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 ); 蹂躏; 劫掠; 抢劫 | |
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16 subscription | |
n.预订,预订费,亲笔签名,调配法,下标(处方) | |
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17 subscribe | |
vi.(to)订阅,订购;同意;vt.捐助,赞助 | |
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18 snobbism | |
势利 | |
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19 stunt | |
n.惊人表演,绝技,特技;vt.阻碍...发育,妨碍...生长 | |
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20 snobs | |
(谄上傲下的)势利小人( snob的名词复数 ); 自高自大者,自命不凡者 | |
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