He found him seated on the terrace, reading Juvenal. Sir Maurice, glancing up, observed Philip's sling8. He said nothing, but his eyes gleamed an instant.
Philip threw himself down upon a bench.
"Well, sir, Bancroft and I have met."
"I thought it would come," nodded his father.
"I'm no match for him. He—pinked me with some ease."
Again Sir Maurice nodded.
"Also"—Philip spoke9 with difficulty—"Cleone—will have none of me—as I am." He looked across at his father with some bitterness. "As you prophesied10, sir, she prefers the attentions of such as Bancroft."
"And so—?"
Philip was silent.
"And so Mr. Jettan withdraws from the lists. Very fine," added Sir Maurice.
"Have I said so, sir?" Philip spoke sharply. "Cleone desires a beau—she shall have one! I have told her that I shall not come to her until I am what—she thinks—is her desire! I will show her and you that I am not the dull-witted bumpkin you think me, fit for nothing better than"—he mimicked11 his father's tone—"to till the earth! I'll learn to be the painted fop you'd like to see me! Neither you nor she shall be offended longer by the sight of me as I am!"
"Now, here's a heat!" remarked Sir Maurice. "So you'll to London, boy? To your uncle?"
"As well to him as any other. I care not."
"That's the wrong spirit for your emprise," said Sir Maurice, a laugh in his eyes. "You must enter into your venture heart and soul."
Philip flung out his arm.
"My heart's here, sir, at home!"
"It's also at Sharley House," said his father dryly, "or why do you go to London?"
"Ay, it's there! And I have the felicity of knowing that Cleone cares not one snap of her fingers for me! She trifles with me, and makes sport of me for her amusement!"
"Tra-la-la-la!" said Sir Maurice. "Then why go to London?"
"To show her that I am not the brainless oaf she thinks me!" answered Philip, and marched off.
Sir Maurice returned to Juvenal.
Not until his arm was healed did Philip set forth13 to London town. He parted amicably14 enough from his father, who gave him much advice, many introductions, and his blessing16. Cleone he did not see at all, but when he had gone she went up to the Pride and held Sir Maurice's hand very tightly. She shed a few tears; also she laughed a little. As for Sir Maurice—well, he chided himself for a sentimental17 old fool, but with Philip's departure had come a void which could only be filled by Philip's return.
Tom was breakfasting when his nephew was announced. It was noon, but Tom had spent a strenuous18 night. Philip walked into the room, under the gloomy eye of Moggat, travel-stained and stiff from the saddle. He was quite unexpected, but his uncle showed no surprise at seeing him.
"Well met, Philip, my boy! What's to do now?"
Philip sank into a chair.
"I'll tell you when I'm fed," he grinned. "That sirloin pleases my eye."
"Artistic be damned!" said Philip, attacking it. Then he frowned. "H'm! No, Tom, 'tis a displeasing20 blend—red and brown."
Tom looked at him in surprise.
"What's colour to you, Philip?"
"I echo that sentiment," said Tom. "How does your father?"
"Well enough; he sends you his love."
Tom thereupon buried himself in the mass of correspondence that lay by his plate. When he came to the end, Philip had finished his repast. Tom pushed back his chair.
Philip waited until the door had closed upon Moggat's reluctant back.
"I've—to learn to be—a gentleman," he said.
Tom stared at him. Then he burst out laughing.
"God ha' mercy, Philip, has it come to that?"
"I do not take your meaning," said Philip crossly.
"What! It's not a petticoat?"
"Tom, I'll thank you to—to—be quiet!"
Tom choked his laughter.
"Oh, I'm dumb! How do you propose to set about the task?"
"'Tis what I want to know, Tom."
"And I'm to teach you?"
Philip hesitated.
"Is it perhaps—a thing I can best learn alone?" he asked, surprisingly diffident.
"What is it exactly you want to learn?"
"To become a gentleman. Have I not said it?"
"Odd rot, what are ye now?"
Philip's lips curled.
"I have it on the best authority, Tom, that I am a clumsy, witless clodhopper."
His uncle regarded him with some kindliness23.
"I beg your pardon?" Philip was cold.
"Not at all," said Tom hastily. "So Maurice has been at you again, eh? Now, Philip, lad, come off your pinnacle25 and be sensible, for God's sake! What do ye want?"
"I want, or rather, they—he—wants me to learn how to dress, how to walk across a room, how to play with words, how to make love to women, how to bow, how to—"
"Oh, stop, stop!" cried Tom. "I have the whole picture! And it's no easy task, my boy. It will take you years to learn."
"Why, I trust you're pessimistic, sir," said Philip, "for I intend to acquire all these arts—within a year."
"Well, I like your spirit," acknowledged Tom. "Take some more ale, lad, and let me have the whole story."
This advice Philip saw fit to follow. In a very short time he found that he had unburdened his sore heart to an astonishingly sympathetic uncle. Tom forbore to laugh—although now and then he was seized by an inward paroxysm which he had much ado to choke down. When Philip came to the end of his recital26 and stared gloomily across at him, he tapped his teeth with one polished finger-nail and looked exceeding wise.
"My opinion is, Philip, that you are the best of all us Jettans, but that's neither here nor there. Now it seems to me that the folk at home don't appreciate your sterling27 qualities—"
"Don't interrupt my peroration28, lad. They think you a noble—what was the word you used?—clodhopper. 'Tis marvellously apt. They doubt your ability to shine in society. 'Tis for us to prove them to be mistaken. You must surprise them."
"I doubt I shall," said Philip, with the glimmering29 of a smile.
Tom was wrapped in thought; his eyes ran over his nephew's form appraisingly30.
"Ye've a fine figure, and good legs. Your hands?"
Philip extended them, laughing.
"Um! a little attention, and I'd not wish to see better. Like all the Jettans, you are passable of countenance31, not to say handsome."
"Am I?" Philip was startled. "I never knew that before!"
"Then ye know it now. You're the spit of your father in his young days. Gad32, what days they were! Before I grew fat," he added sadly. "But I wander, I wander. Maurice and the petticoat—what's the girl's name?"
"I don't see why you should assu—"
"Don't be a fool, lad! It's that fair chit, eh? Charlotte—no, damn it, some heathenish name!"
"Cleone," supplied Philip, submitting.
"Ay, that's it—Cleone. Well, Maurice and Cleone think that ye'll gain a little polish and some style. What you must do is excel. Excel!"
"I doubt I could not," said Philip. "And, indeed, I've no mind to."
"Then I've done with you." Tom leaned back in his chair with an air of finality.
"No, no, Tom! You must help me!"
"Ye must put yourself in my hands, then."
"Ay, but—"
"Completely," said Tom inexorably.
"Oh, very well!"
The round, good-tempered face lost its unaccustomed severity. Tom was again wrapped in thought.
"Paris," he said at length, to the bewilderment of his nephew. "You must go there," he explained.
"What! I? To Paris? Never!"
"Then I wash my—"
"But, Tom, consider! I know so little French!"
"The more reason."
"But—but—damn it, I say I will not!"
Tom yawned.
"As ye will."
Philip became more and more unhappy.
"You're like a surly bear," reproved Tom. "Where else would you go?"
"Can't I—surely I can learn all I want here?"
"Ay, and have all your friends nudging each other as you transform from what you are to what you are to become!"
Philip had not thought of that. He relapsed into sulky silence.
"To Paris," resumed Tom, "within the week. Luckily, you've more money than is good for you. You've no need to pinch and scrape. I'll take you, clothe you, and introduce you."
Philip brightened.
"Will you? That's devilish good of you, Tom!"
"It is," agreed Tom. "But I dare swear I'll find entertainment there." He chuckled37. "And not a word to your father or to anyone. You'll vanish, and when you reappear no one will know you."
"I suppose I must do it. But—" He rose and walked to the window. "It's all that I despise and that I detest40. Mere41 love—does not suffice. Well, we shall see." He thrust his hands deep in his pockets. "The thing they want me to be is neither noble nor estimable. They—he—they—don't care what may be a man's reputation or his character! He must speak them softly, and charm their ears with silly compliments, and their eyes with pretty silks and satins. Naught else is of consequence. Faugh!"
"Ay, you're taking it hard," nodded his uncle. "But they're all the same, lad—bless 'em!"
"I thought—this one—was different."
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1
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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2
fickleness
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| n.易变；无常；浮躁；变化无常 | |
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3
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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6
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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7
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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8
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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9
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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10
prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
mimicked
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的过去式和过去分词 )；酷似 | |
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12
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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13
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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amicably
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| adv.友善地 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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16
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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17
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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18
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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19
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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20
displeasing
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| 不愉快的，令人发火的 | |
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21
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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23
kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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sapiently
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pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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27
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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28
peroration
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| n.（演说等之）结论 | |
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29
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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30
appraisingly
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| adv.以品评或评价的眼光 | |
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31
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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32
gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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33
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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36
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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37
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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39
allure
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| n.诱惑力，魅力；vt.诱惑，引诱，吸引 | |
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40
detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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41
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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42
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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