Conceals1 beneath some purpose vile2,
Tho' bland3 his gaze and fair his speech
Oh trust him not, I do beseech4;
For as a seeming simple flower
May hide a scent5 of evil power,
Which lures6 with its envenomed
The trusting wearer to his death;
So tho' his tongue may kindly7 prate8,
He oathes thee with undying hate."
Now that Basil Beaumont had succeeded in gaining Una's gratitude9, if not her friendship, he determined10 to next win over Dr. Larcher to his side. He had already managed to gain a certain influence over Reginald Blake, but he saw plainly that the worthy11 vicar was not prepossessed in his favour, and, as he would prove an invaluable12 ally should Patience prove dangerous, Beaumont was anxious to impress him with a good estimate of his character.
The cynical13 man of the world seemed to have changed altogether since his interview with Patience Allerby, and no one seeing the interest he took in the simple pleasures of village life would dream that behind all this apparent simplicity14 he concealed15 a subtle design. His acting16 was in the highest degree artificial, yet so thoroughly17 true to nature that everyone was deceived and never saw the ravenous18 wolf hidden under the innocent skin of the lamb.
Of course, Patience Allerby had too minute a knowledge of his real nature to be deceived by the mask of innocence20 and gaiety he now chose to assume, and as Basil Beaumont knew this only too well, he was anxious to lose no time in raising up to himself an army of well-wishers against the honest indignation of the woman he had deserted21 should she interfere22 with his schemes. Mrs. Larcher, Miss Cassy, Una and Reginald had now all an excellent opinion of him, so he was anxious to secure the good wishes of Dr. Larcher, thus leaving Patience to fight her battle single-handed against the crowd of friends he had so dexterously23 secured.
Notwithstanding the lateness of the season it was a very pleasant day, with a certain warmth and brightness in the air despite the keen wind which was blowing, and on his arrival at the vicarage Beaumont found the young people playing lawn-tennis; Pumpkin24 and Ferdinand Priggs holding their own in a somewhat erratic25 fashion against Reginald and Dick Pemberton.
Beaumont sauntered on to the lawn with his everlasting26 cigarette between his lips, but threw it away as he was hailed joyously27 by Reginald and the four players, who paused for a moment in the game.
"How do you do, Miss Larcher?" said Beaumont, lazily raising his hat, "this is a comprehensive greeting, and includes everybody. I've called to see the vicar."
"Papa's out just now," observed Pumpkin, "but he will be back soon. Will you wait, Mr. Beaumont?"
"Thank you--I will," answered Beaumont, sitting down on a garden bench.
"Have a game?" cried Reginald, flinging his racquet into the air and catching28 it dexterously in his hand.
"Too much like hard work."
"Then have some tea," suggested Pumpkin persuasively29.
"Ah, that is better, Miss Larcher," replied Beaumont gaily30; "yes, I should like some tea."
"Bring it out here," said Dick, who had thrown himself down on the soft green grass, "it will be jolly having a spread outside."
"How you do misuse31 the Queen's English," murmured Mr. Priggs as Miss Larcher went inside to order the tea.
"Only in prose," retorted Dick coolly, "think how you mutilate it in poetry."
"I'm afraid you're rather severe on Priggs," said Beaumont, who was anxious to conciliate everyone, even the poet, for whom he had a profound contempt.
"You wouldn't say so if you saw his poetry," replied Pemberton laughing.
"Oh, come now, Dick," said Reginald lightly, "that's rather hard--some of Ferdinand's poetry is beautiful."
"And gruesome."
"Dick cares for nothing but music-hall songs," explained the poetic32 Ferdinand loftily.
"Oh yes, I do--for cake and tea, among other things, and here it comes. Make a rhyme on it, Ferdy."
"Don't call me Ferdy," said Priggs sharply.
"Then Birdie," observed Dick, in a teasing tone, "though you're more like an owl19 than any other bird."
"Now don't fight," said Pumpkin, who was now seated in front of a rustic33 table on which the tea-things were set out. "Milk and sugar, Mr. Beaumont?"
"Both, thank you," said Beaumont, bending forward. "By-the-way, I saw Miss Challoner to-day--we were talking about you, Blake."
"Were you indeed?" observed Reginald, rather irritated at the free and easy manner of the speaker.
"Yes--about your voice. I got a letter from a friend of mine in Town, of which I will tell you later on."
"I suppose Reggy will be leaving us all for London soon," said Dick enviously34.
"Lucky Reginald," sighed Ferdinand, "I wish I were going to London."
"What, with a bundle of poems in your pocket?" said Reginald laughing. "I'm afraid you wouldn't set the Thames on fire--poetry doesn't pay."
"Nor literature of any sort," observed Dick, "at least, so I understand."
"Then you understand wrong," said Beaumont coolly, "you go by Scott's saying, I presume--that literature is a good staff but a bad crutch--all that is altered now."
"Not as regards poetry."
"No--not as regards poetry certainly, but success in literature greatly depends on the tact35 of a writer; if a young man goes to London with a translation of Horace or Lucian in his pocket he will find his goods are not wanted; if Milton went to Paternoster Row at the present time, with the MS. of 'Paradise Lost' in his hand, I don't believe he would find a publisher. We talk a great deal of noble poems and beautiful thoughts, but it's curious what unsaleable articles even the best of them are."
"Then what does sell?" asked Ferdinand.
"Anything that pleases the public--a sensational36 novel--a sparkling Society poem--a brilliant magazine article--a witty37 play--you'll get plenty of chances to make money with these things; you see people live so rapidly now that they have no time to study in their play hours, therefore they want the very froth and foam38 of the time served up to them for their reading, so as to take their thoughts off their work. We praise 'Tom Jones' and 'Clarissa' immensely, but who reads them when they can skim the last three volume novel or the latest pungent39 article on the state of Europe?--no one wants to be instructed now-a-days, but they do want to be amused."
"How do people live in London?" asked Pumpkin, who, being an unsophisticated country maiden40, was absolutely ignorant of anything connected with the great metropolis41.
"They live with a hansom cab at the door and their watch in their hand," retorted Beaumont cynically42; "they give two minutes to one thing, five minutes to another, and think they are enjoying themselves--get a smattering of all things and a thorough knowledge of nothing--the last play, the last book, the last scandal, the latest political complication--they know all these things well enough to chatter43 about them, but alas44 for the deep thinker who puts his views before the restless world of London--he will have a very small circle of readers indeed, because no one has any time to ponder over his thoughtful prose."
"Still the power of the stage as a teacher," began Ferdinand, "is really----"
"Is really nothing," interrupted Beaumont sharply; "the stage of the present day is meant to amuse, not teach--no one cares to go to school after school hours; we are not even original in our dramas--we either translate from the French stage, or reproduce Shakespeare with fine scenery and tea-cup and saucer actors."
"Well, you cannot object to Shakespeare," observed Reginald, who was much interested in Beaumont's remarks.
"Certainly not. Shakespeare, like other things, is excellent--in moderation. I quite agree that we should have a national theatre, where the Elizabethan drama should be regularly acted, but our so-called National Theatre devotes itself to gingerbread melodramas45, and tries to hide its poverty of thought under a brilliant mise-en-scene; but when you have Shakespeare's plays at three or four theatres and French adaptations at a dozen others, where does the local playwright46 come in?"
"But from what I hear there are so few good local playwrights47," said Dick quickly.
"And whose fault is that?" asked Beaumont acidly, "but the fault of the English nation. France has a strong dramatic school because she produced her own drama to the exclusion48 of foreign writers; if the English people, who pride themselves on their patriotism49, were to refuse to countenance50 French and German adaptations, the managers would be forced to produce English plays written by English playwrights, and though, very likely, for a time we would have bad workmanship and crude ideas, yet in a few years a dramatic school would be formed; but such an event will never happen while one of our leading playwrights adapts Gallic comedies wholesale51 and another dramatises old books of the Georgian period. England has not lost her creative power but she's doing her best to stamp it out."
"How terribly severe," said Ferdinand.
"But how terribly true," retorted Beaumont carelessly. "However, I will not preach any more as I'm sure you must all be tired of my chatter--and see, there is Doctor Larcher coming."
He arose to his feet as he spoke52, for the vicar came striding across the little lawn like a colossus.
"Tea and scandal, I suppose," he roared in his hearty53 voice as he shook hands with the artist.
"'Hic innocentis pocula Lesbii
Duces sub umbra.'"
"Certainly innocent enough sir," observed Reginald lightly, "but the fact is we have been listening to Mr. Beaumont."
"And the discourse54?" asked the vicar, taking a cup of tea from Pumpkin.
"The decadence55 of Literature and the Drama in England," replied Beaumont with a smile.
"Ah, indeed. I'm afraid, Mr. Beaumont, I know nothing of the drama, except the Bard56 of Avon----"
"Whom Mr. Beaumont likes, in moderation," interrupted Pumpkin mischievously57.
"Certainly," assented58 Beaumont gravely. "I like all things in moderation."
"Even Horace," whispered Dick to Reginald, who laughed loudly and then apologised for his untimely mirth.
"As to literature," said Dr. Larcher ponderously59, "I'm afraid there is rather a falling off--we are frivolous60--yes, decidedly frivolous."
"I wish we were anything half so pleasant," remarked Beaumont, "I'm afraid we're decidedly dull."
"The wave of genius which began with this present century," said the vicar pompously61, "has now spent its force and to a great extent died away--soon it will gather again and sweep onward62."
"If it would only sweep away a few hundred of our present writers, I don't think anyone would mind," said the artist laughing.
"Sed omnes una manet nox," observed Dr. Larcher with a grim smile.
"What, all our present day scribblers? What a delightful63 thing for the twentieth century."
Dr. Larcher smiled blandly64 as he set down his cup, for he liked his Horatian allusions65 to be promptly66 taken up, and began to think Beaumont rather good company. He nodded kindly to the whole party, and was about to turn away when a sudden thought struck him.
"Do you want to see me, Mr. Beaumont?" he asked looking at the artist.
"Yes, I do," replied that gentleman, rising leisurely67 to his feet. "I wish to speak to you about Blake, and also I wish Blake to be present."
"Oh, I'll come," cried Reginald, springing forward with alacrity68, for he guessed what the conversation would be about.
"Come then to my study," said Dr. Larcher. "Pumpkin, my child, you had better come inside, as the night is coming on."
As the three gentlemen walked towards the house, Pumpkin commenced putting the tea-things together in order to take them inside. Dick, who had risen to his feet, was staring after Beaumont with something like a frown on his fresh, young face.
"What's the matter, Dick?" asked Pumpkin, pausing for a moment.
"Eh?" said Dick, starting a little, "oh, nothing, only I don't like him."
"Whom?"
"Mr. Beaumont," said Pemberton thoughtfully. "I think he's a humbug69."
"I'm sure he's a most delightful man," observed Ferdinand loftily.
"Oh, you'd think anyone delightful who praised your poetry," retorted Dick rudely, "but I do not like Beaumont; he's very clever and talks well, no doubt, but he's an outsider all the same."
"What makes you think so?" said Pumpkin, looking at him with the tray in her hands.
"Oh, I can size a man up in two minutes," observed Dick in his usual slangy manner, "and if I was Reggy I wouldn't give that chap the slant70 to round on me; he says a lot he doesn't mean, and if he's going to run Reggie's show the apple-cart will soon be upset."
Owing to Dick's lavish71 use of slang, Pumpkin was quite in the dark regarding his meaning, so with a quiet smile walked indoors with the tray.
"Reggy can look after himself all right," observed the poet in a placid72 tone.
"And a jolly good thing too," cried Dick, eyeing the poetic youth in a savage73 manner, "but prevention's better than cure, and I wouldn't let Beaumont have a finger in my pie if I were Reggy."
"Ah, you see you're not Reggy."
"I'm uncommonly74 glad I'm not you," retorted Dick politely. "It must be an awful disagreeable thing for you to know what an arrant75 idiot you are."
"I'm not an idiot," said Priggs haughtily76.
"Not an idiot!" echoed Dick derisively77, "why you are such an idiot you don't even know you are one."
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1
conceals
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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5
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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6
lures
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| 吸引力，魅力（lure的复数形式） | |
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7
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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prate
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| v.瞎扯，胡说 | |
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9
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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10
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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11
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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12
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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13
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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14
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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15
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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16
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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17
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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18
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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19
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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20
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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21
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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22
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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23
dexterously
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| adv.巧妙地，敏捷地 | |
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pumpkin
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| n.南瓜 | |
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25
erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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26
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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28
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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30
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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31
misuse
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| n.误用，滥用；vt.误用，滥用 | |
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32
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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33
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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34
enviously
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| adv.满怀嫉妒地 | |
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35
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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36
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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38
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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39
pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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40
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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41
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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42
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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43
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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44
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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45
melodramas
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| 情节剧( melodrama的名词复数 ) | |
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46
playwright
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| n.剧作家，编写剧本的人 | |
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playwrights
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| n.剧作家( playwright的名词复数 ) | |
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48
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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49
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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50
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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51
wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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52
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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53
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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54
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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55
decadence
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| n.衰落，颓废 | |
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56
bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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57
mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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58
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
ponderously
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60
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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61
pompously
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| adv.傲慢地，盛大壮观地；大模大样 | |
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62
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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63
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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64
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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65
allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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66
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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68
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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69
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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70
slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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71
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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72
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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73
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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74
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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75
arrant
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| adj.极端的；最大的 | |
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76
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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77
derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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