The mould in his mouth and the dust in his eyes
And they went south and east, and north,—
The strong man fights, but the sick man dies.
The strong man fights, but the sick man dies.—
“And would he were with us now,” they said,
“The sun in our face and the wind in our eyes.”
—Ballad.
The Nilghai was angry with Torpenhow. Dick had been sent to bed,—blind men are ever under the orders of those who can see,—and since he had returned from the Park had fluently sworn at Torpenhow because he was alive, and all the world because it was alive and could see, while he, Dick, was dead in the death of the blind, who, at the best, are only burdens upon their associates. Torpenhow had said something about a Mrs. Gummidge, and Dick had retired2 in a black fury to handle and re-handle three unopened letters from Maisie.
The Nilghai, fat, burly, and aggressive, was in Torpenhow’s rooms.
Behind him sat the Keneu, the Great War Eagle, and between them lay a large map embellished3 with black-and-white-headed pins.
“I was wrong about the Balkans,” said the Nilghai. “But I’m not wrong about this business. The whole of our work in the Southern Soudan must be done over again. The public doesn’t care, of course, but the government does, and they are making their arrangements quietly. You know that as well as I do.”
“I remember how the people cursed us when our troops withdrew from Omdurman. It was bound to crop up sooner or later. But I can’t go,” said Torpenhow. He pointed4 through the open door; it was a hot night. “Can you blame me?”
The Keneu purred above his pipe like a large and very happy cat—“Don’t blame you in the least. It’s uncommonly5 good of you, and all the rest of it, but every man—even you, Torp—must consider his work. I know it sounds brutal6, but Dick’s out of the race,—down,—gastados, expended7, finished, done for. He has a little money of his own. He won’t starve, and you can’t pull out of your slide for his sake. Think of your own reputation.”
“Dick’s was five times bigger than mine and yours put together.”
“That was because he signed his name to everything he did. It’s all ended now. You must hold yourself in readiness to move out. You can command your own prices, and you do better work than any three of us.”
“Don’t tell me how tempting8 it is. I’ll stay here to look after Dick for a while. He’s as cheerful as a bear with a sore head, but I think he likes to have me near him.”
The Nilghai said something uncomplimentary about soft-headed fools who throw away their careers for other fools. Torpenhow flushed angrily. The constant strain of attendance on Dick had worn his nerves thin.
“There remains9 a third fate,” said the Keneu, thoughtfully. “Consider this, and be not larger fools than necessary. Dick is—or rather was—an able-bodied man of moderate attractions and a certain amount of audacity10.”
“Oho!” said the Nilghai, who remembered an affair at Cairo. “I begin to see,—Torp, I’m sorry.”
Torpenhow nodded forgiveness: “You were more sorry when he cut you out, though.—Go on, Keneu.”
“I’ve often thought, when I’ve seen men die out in the desert, that if the news could be sent through the world, and the means of transport were quick enough, there would be one woman at least at each man’s bedside.”
“There would be some mighty11 quaint12 revelations. Let us be grateful things are as they are,” said the Nilghai.
“Let us rather reverently13 consider whether Torp’s three-cornered ministrations are exactly what Dick needs just now.—What do you think yourself, Torp?”
“I know they aren’t. But what can I do?”
“Lay the matter before the board. We are all Dick’s friends here. You’ve been most in his life.”
“But I picked it up when he was off his head.”
“The greater chance of its being true. I thought we should arrive. Who is she?”
Then Torpenhow told a tale in plain words, as a special correspondent who knows how to make a verbal précis should tell it. The men listened without interruption.
“Is it possible that a man can come back across the years to his calf-love?” said the Keneu. “Is it possible?”
“I give the facts. He says nothing about it now, but he sits fumbling14 three letters from her when he thinks I’m not looking. What am I to do?”
“Speak to him,” said the Nilghai.
“Oh yes! Write to her,—I don’t know her full name, remember,—and ask her to accept him out of pity. I believe you once told Dick you were sorry for him, Nilghai. You remember what happened, eh? Go into the bedroom and suggest full confession15 and an appeal to this Maisie girl, whoever she is. I honestly believe he’d try to kill you; and the blindness has made him rather muscular.”
“Torpenhow’s course is perfectly16 clear,” said the Keneu. “He will go to Vitry-sur-Marne, which is on the Bezieres-Landes Railway,—single track from Tourgas. The Prussians shelled it out in ’70 because there was a poplar on the top of a hill eighteen hundred yards from the church spire17 There’s a squadron of cavalry18 quartered there,—or ought to be. Where this studio Torp spoke about may be I cannot tell. That is Torp’s business. I have given him his route. He will dispassionately explain the situation to the girl, and she will come back to Dick,—the more especially because, to use Dick’s words, “there is nothing but her damned obstinacy19 to keep them apart.”’
“And they have four hundred and twenty pounds a year between ’em. Dick never lost his head for figures, even in his delirium20. You haven’t the shadow of an excuse for not going,” said the Nilghai.
Torpenhow looked very uncomfortable. “But it’s absurd and impossible. I can’t drag her back by the hair.”
“Our business—the business for which we draw our money—is to do absurd and impossible things,—generally with no reason whatever except to amuse the public. Here we have a reason. The rest doesn’t matter. I shall share these rooms with the Nilghai till Torpenhow returns. There will be a batch21 of unbridled “specials” coming to town in a little while, and these will serve as their headquarters. Another reason for sending Torpenhow away. Thus Providence22 helps those who help others, and’—here the Keneu dropped his measured speech—“we can’t have you tied by the leg to Dick when the trouble begins. It’s your only chance of getting away; and Dick will be grateful.”
“He will,—worse luck! I can but go and try. I can’t conceive a woman in her senses refusing Dick.”
“Talk that out with the girl. I have seen you wheedle23 an angry Mahdieh woman into giving you dates. This won’t be a tithe24 as difficult. You had better not be here to-morrow afternoon, because the Nilghai and I will be in possession. It is an order. Obey.”
“Dick,” said Torpenhow, next morning, “can I do anything for you?”
“No! Leave me alone. How often must I remind you that I’m blind?”
“Nothing I could go for to fetch for to carry for to bring?”
“No. Take those infernal creaking boots of yours away.”
“Poor chap!” said Torpenhow to himself. “I must have been sitting on his nerves lately. He wants a lighter25 step.” Then, aloud, “Very well. Since you’re so independent, I’m going off for four or five days. Say good-bye at least. The housekeeper26 will look after you, and Keneu has my rooms.”
Dick’s face fell. “You won’t be longer than a week at the outside? I know I’m touched in the temper, but I can’t get on without you.”
“Can’t you? You’ll have to do without me in a little time, and you’ll be glad I’m gone.”
Dick felt his way back to the big chair, and wondered what these things might mean. He did not wish to be tended by the housekeeper, and yet Torpenhow’s constant tenderness jarred on him. He did not exactly know what he wanted. The darkness would not lift, and Maisie’s unopened letters felt worn and old from much handling. He could never read them for himself as long as life endured; but Maisie might have sent him some fresh ones to play with. The Nilghai entered with a gift,—a piece of red modelling-wax. He fancied that Dick might find interest in using his hands. Dick poked27 and patted the stuff for a few minutes, and, “Is it like anything in the world?” he said drearily28. “Take it away. I may get the touch of the blind in fifty years. Do you know where Torpenhow has gone?”
The Nilghai knew nothing. “We’re staying in his rooms till he comes back. Can we do anything for you?”
“I’d like to be left alone, please. Don’t think I’m ungrateful; but I’m best alone.”
The Nilghai chuckled29, and Dick resumed his drowsy30 brooding and sullen31 rebellion against fate. He had long since ceased to think about the work he had done in the old days, and the desire to do more work had departed from him. He was exceedingly sorry for himself, and the completeness of his tender grief soothed32 him. But his soul and his body cried for Maisie—Maisie who would understand. His mind pointed out that Maisie, having her own work to do, would not care. His experience had taught him that when money was exhausted33 women went away, and that when a man was knocked out of the race the others trampled35 on him. “Then at the least,” said Dick, in reply, “she could use me as I used Binat,—for some sort of a study. I wouldn’t ask more than to be near her again, even though I knew that another man was making love to her. Ugh! what a dog I am!”
A voice on the staircase began to sing joyfully—
“When we go—go—go away from here,
Our absence much regretting when they find that they’ve been getting
Out of England by next Tuesday’s Indian mail.”
Following the trampling38 of feet, slamming of Torpenhow’s door, and the sound of voices in strenuous39 debate, some one squeaked40, “And see, you good fellows, I have found a new water-bottle—firs’-class patent—eh, how you say? Open himself inside out.”
Dick sprang to his feet. He knew the voice well. “That’s Cassavetti, come back from the Continent. Now I know why Torp went away. There’s a row somewhere, and—I’m out of it!”
The Nilghai commanded silence in vain. “That’s for my sake,” Dick said bitterly. “The birds are getting ready to fly, and they wouldn’t tell me. I can hear Morten-Sutherland and Mackaye. Half the War Correspondents in London are there;—and I’m out of it.”
He stumbled across the landing and plunged41 into Torpenhow’s room. He could feel that it was full of men. “Where’s the trouble?” said he. “In the Balkans at last? Why didn’t some one tell me?”
“We thought you wouldn’t be interested,” said the Nilghai, shamefacedly.
“It’s in the Soudan, as usual.”
“You lucky dogs! Let me sit here while you talk. I shan’t be a skeleton at the feast.—Cassavetti, where are you? Your English is as bad as ever.”
Dick was led into a chair. He heard the rustle42 of the maps, and the talk swept forward, carrying him with it. Everybody spoke at once, discussing press censorships, railway-routes, transport, water-supply, the capacities of generals,—these in language that would have horrified43 a trusting public,—ranging, asserting, denouncing, and laughing at the top of their voices. There was the glorious certainty of war in the Soudan at any moment. The Nilghai said so, and it was well to be in readiness. The Keneu had telegraphed to Cairo for horses; Cassavetti had stolen a perfectly inaccurate44 list of troops that would be ordered forward, and was reading it out amid profane45 interruptions, and the Keneu introduced to Dick some man unknown who would be employed as war artist by the Central Southern Syndicate. “It’s his first outing,” said the Keneu. “Give him some tips—about riding camels.”
“Oh, those camels!” groaned46 Cassavetti. “I shall learn to ride him again, and now I am so much all soft! Listen, you good fellows. I know your military arrangement very well. There will go the Royal Argalshire Sutherlanders. So it was read to me upon best authority.”
A roar of laughter interrupted him.
“Sit down,” said the Nilghai. “The lists aren’t even made out in the War Office.”
“Will there be any force at Suakin?” said a voice.
Then the outcries redoubled, and grew mixed, thus: “How many Egyptian troops will they use?—God help the Fellaheen!—There’s a railway in Plumstead marshes47 doing duty as a fives-court.—We shall have the Suakin-Berber line built at last.—Canadian voyageurs are too careful. Give me a half-drunk Krooman in a whale-boat.—Who commands the Desert column?—No, they never blew up the big rock in the Ghineh bend. We shall have to be hauled up, as usual.—Somebody tell me if there’s an Indian contingent48, or I’ll break everybody’s head.—Don’t tear the map in two.—It’s a war of occupation, I tell you, to connect with the African companies in the South.—There’s Guinea-worm in most of the wells on that route.” Then the Nilghai, despairing of peace, bellowed49 like a fog-horn and beat upon the table with both hands.
“But what becomes of Torpenhow?” said Dick, in the silence that followed.
“He said he was going to stay at home,” said the Keneu.
“Is he?” said Dick, with an oath. “He won’t. I’m not much good now, but if you and the Nilghai hold him down I’ll engage to trample34 on him till he sees reason. He’ll stay behind, indeed! He’s the best of you all. There’ll be some tough work by Omdurman. We shall come there to stay, this time.
But I forgot. I wish I were going with you.”
“So do we all, Dickie,” said the Keneu.
“And I most of all,” said the new artist of the Central Southern Syndicate.
“Could you tell me——”
“I’ll give you one piece of advice,” Dick answered, moving towards the door. “If you happen to be cut over the head in a scrimmage, don’t guard.
Tell the man to go on cutting. You’ll find it cheapest in the end. Thanks for letting me look in.”
“There’s grit51 in Dick,” said the Nilghai, an hour later, when the room was emptied of all save the Keneu.
“It was the sacred call of the war-trumpet. Did you notice how he answered to it? Poor fellow! Let’s look at him,” said the Keneu.
The excitement of the talk had died away. Dick was sitting by the studio table, with his head on his arms, when the men came in. He did not change his position.
“It hurts,” he moaned. “God forgive me, but it hurts cruelly; and yet, y’know, the world has a knack52 of spinning round all by itself. Shall I see Torp before he goes?”
“Oh, yes. You’ll see him,” said the Nilghai.
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收听单词发音
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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
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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3
embellished
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| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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4
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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5
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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6
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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7
expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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8
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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9
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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10
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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11
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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12
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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13
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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14
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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15
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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16
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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18
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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19
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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20
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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21
batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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22
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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23
wheedle
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| v.劝诱，哄骗 | |
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24
tithe
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| n.十分之一税；v.课什一税，缴什一税 | |
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25
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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26
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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27
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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28
drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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29
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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31
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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32
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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33
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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34
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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35
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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36
creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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37
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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38
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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39
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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40
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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41
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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42
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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43
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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44
inaccurate
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| adj.错误的，不正确的，不准确的 | |
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45
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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46
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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47
marshes
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| n.沼泽，湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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48
contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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49
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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50
abeyance
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| n.搁置，缓办，中止，产权未定 | |
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51
grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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52
knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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