‘My brother Robert saw several of them paddling about the shore the last time he passed the Straits of Dover,’ said the trumpet-major; and he further startled the company by informing them that there were supposed to be more than fifteen hundred of these boats, and that they would carry a hundred men apiece. So that a descent of one hundred and fifty thousand men might be expected any day as soon as Boney had brought his plans to bear.
‘Lord ha’ mercy upon us!’ said William Tremlett.
‘The night-time is when they will try it, if they try it at all,’ said old Tullidge, in the tone of one whose watch at the beacon4 must, in the nature of things, have given him comprehensive views of the situation. ‘It is my belief that the point they will choose for making the shore is just over there,’ and he nodded with indifference5 towards a section of the coast at a hideous6 nearness to the house in which they were assembled, whereupon Fencible Tremlett, and Cripplestraw of the Locals, tried to show no signs of trepidation7.
‘When d’ye think ’twill be?’ said Volunteer Comfort, the blacksmith.
‘I can’t answer to a day,’ said the corporal, ‘but it will certainly be in a down-channel tide; and instead of pulling hard against it, he’ll let his boats drift, and that will bring ’em right into Budmouth Bay. ’Twill be a beautiful stroke of war, if so be ’tis quietly done!’
‘Beautiful,’ said Cripplestraw, moving inside his clothes. ‘But how if we should be all abed, corpel? You can’t expect a man to be brave in his shirt, especially we Locals, that have only got so far as shoulder fire-locks.’
Loveday the soldier was too much engaged in attending upon Anne and her mother to join in these surmises10, bestirring himself to get the ladies some of the best liquor the house afforded, which had, as a matter of fact, crossed the Channel as privately11 as Buonaparte wished his army to do, and had been landed on a dark night over the cliff. After this he asked Anne to sing, but though she had a very pretty voice in private performances of that nature, she declined to oblige him; turning the subject by making a hesitating inquiry12 about his brother Robert, whom he had mentioned just before.
‘Robert is as well as ever, thank you, Miss Garland,’ he said. ‘He is now mate of the brig Pewit—rather young for such a command; but the owner puts great trust in him.’ The trumpet-major added, deepening his thoughts to a profounder view of the person discussed, ‘Bob is in love.’
Anne looked conscious, and listened attentively13; but Loveday did not go on.
‘Much?’ she asked.
‘I can’t exactly say. And the strange part of it is that he never tells us who the woman is. Nobody knows at all.’
‘He will tell, of course?’ said Anne, in the remote tone of a person with whose sex such matters had no connexion whatever.
Loveday shook his head, and the tete-a-tete was put an end to by a burst of singing from one of the sergeants14, who was followed at the end of his song by others, each giving a ditty in his turn; the singer standing15 up in front of the table, stretching his chin well into the air, as though to abstract every possible wrinkle from his throat, and then plunging16 into the melody. When this was over one of the foreign hussars—the genteel German of Miller17 Loveday’s description, who called himself a Hungarian, and in reality belonged to no definite country—performed at Trumpet-major Loveday’s request the series of wild motions that he denominated his national dance, that Anne might see what it was like. Miss Garland was the flower of the whole company; the soldiers one and all, foreign and English, seemed to be quite charmed by her presence, as indeed they well might be, considering how seldom they came into the society of such as she.
Anne and her mother were just thinking of retiring to their own dwelling18 when Sergeant Stanner of the --th Foot, who was recruiting at Budmouth, began a satirical song:—
When law’-yers strive’ to heal’ a breach’,
And par-sons prac’-tise what’ they preach’;
And march’ his men’ on Lon’-don town’!
Chorus.—Rol’-li-cum ro’-rum, tol’-lol-lo’-rum,
Rol’-li-cum ro’-rum, tol’-lol-lay.
When jus’-ti-ces’ hold e’qual scales’,
And rogues’ are on’-ly found’ in jails’;
Then lit’tle Bo’-ney he’ll pounce down’,
And march’ his men’ on Lon’-don town’!
Chorus.—Rol’-li-cum ro’-rum, tol’-lol-lo’-rum,
Rol’-li-cum ro’-rum, tol’-lol-lay.
When rich’ men find’ their wealth’ a curse’,
And fill’ there-with’ the poor’ man’s purse’;
Then lit’-tle Bo’-ney he’ll pounce down’,
And march’ his men’ on Lon’-don town’!
Chorus.—Rol’-li-cum ro’-rum, tol’-lol-lo’-rum,
Rol’-li-cum ro’-rum, tol’-lol-lay.
Poor Stanner! In spite of his satire20, he fell at the bloody21 battle of Albuera a few years after this pleasantly spent summer at the Georgian watering-place, being mortally wounded and trampled22 down by a French hussar when the brigade was deploying23 into line under Beresford.
While Miller Loveday was saying ‘Well done, Mr. Stanner!’ at the close of the thirteenth stanza24, which seemed to be the last, and Mr. Stanner was modestly expressing his regret that he could do no better, a stentorian25 voice was heard outside the window shutter26 repeating,
Rol’-li-cum ro’-rum, tol’-lol-lo’-rum,
Rol’-li-cum ro’-rum, tol’-lol-lay.
The company was silent in a moment at this reinforcement, and only the military tried not to look surprised. While all wondered who the singer could be somebody entered the porch; the door opened, and in came a young man, about the size and weight of the Farnese Hercules, in the uniform of the yeomanry cavalry27.
Without waiting to address anybody, or apparently29 seeing who were gathered there, the colossal30 man waved his cap above his head and went on in tones that shook the window-panes:—
When hus’-bands with’ their wives’ agree’.
And maids’ won’t wed’ from mod’-es-ty’,
Then lit’-tle Bo’-ney he’ll pounce down’,
And march’ his men’ on Lon’-don town’!
Chorus.—Rol’-li-cum ro’-rum, tol’-lol-lo’-rum,
Rol’-li-cum ro’-rum, tol’-lol-lay.
It was a verse which had been omitted by the gallant Stanner, out of respect to the ladies.
The new-comer was red-haired and of florid complexion31, and seemed full of a conviction that his whim32 of entering must be their pleasure, which for the moment it was.
‘No ceremony, good men all,’ he said; ‘I was passing by, and my ear was caught by the singing. I like singing; ’tis warming and cheering, and shall not be put down. I should like to hear anybody say otherwise.’
‘Welcome, Master Derriman,’ said the miller, filling a glass and handing it to the yeoman. ‘Come all the way from quarters, then? I hardly knowed ye in your soldier’s clothes. You’d look more natural with a spud in your hand, sir. I shouldn’t ha’ known ye at all if I hadn’t heard that you were called out.’
‘More natural with a spud!—have a care, miller,’ said the young giant, the fire of his complexion increasing to scarlet33. ‘I don’t mean anger, but—but—a soldier’s honour, you know!’
The military in the background laughed a little, and the yeoman then for the first time discovered that there were more regulars present than one. He looked momentarily disconcerted, but expanded again to full assurance.
‘Right, right, Master Derriman, no offence—’twas only my joke,’ said the genial34 miller. ‘Everybody’s a soldier nowadays. Drink a drap o’ this cordial, and don’t mind words.’
The young man drank without the least reluctance35, and said, ‘Yes, miller, I am called out. ’Tis ticklish36 times for us soldiers now; we hold our lives in our hands—What are those fellows grinning at behind the table?—I say, we do!’
‘Staying with your uncle at the farm for a day or two, Mr. Derriman?’
‘No, no; as I told you, six mile off. Billeted at Casterbridge. But I have to call and see the old, old—’
‘Gentleman?’
‘Gentleman!—no, skinflint. He lives upon the sweepings37 of the barton; ha, ha!’ And the speaker’s regular white teeth showed themselves like snow in a Dutch cabbage. ‘Well, well, the profession of arms makes a man proof against all that. I take things as I find ’em.’
‘Quite right, Master Derriman. Another drop?’
The yeoman then saw Anne, and by an unconscious gravitation went towards her and the other women, flinging a remark to John Loveday in passing. ‘Ah, Loveday! I heard you were come; in short, I come o’ purpose to see you. Glad to see you enjoying yourself at home again.’
The trumpet-major replied civilly, though not without grimness, for he seemed hardly to like Derriman’s motion towards Anne.
‘Widow Garland’s daughter!—yes, ’tis! surely. You remember me? I have been here before. Festus Derriman, Yeomanry Cavalry.’
Anne gave a little curtsey. ‘I know your name is Festus—that’s all.’
‘Yes, ’tis well known—especially latterly.’ He dropped his voice to confidence pitch. ‘I suppose your friends here are disturbed by my coming in, as they don’t seem to talk much? I don’t mean to interrupt the party; but I often find that people are put out by my coming among ’em, especially when I’ve got my regimentals on.’
‘La! and are they?’
‘Yes; ’tis the way I have.’ He further lowered his tone, as if they had been old friends, though in reality he had only seen her three or four times. ‘And how did you come to be here? Dash my wig39, I don’t like to see a nice young lady like you in this company. You should come to some of our yeomanry sprees in Casterbridge or Shottsford-Forum. O, but the girls do come! The yeomanry are respected men, men of good substantial families, many farming their own land; and every one among us rides his own charger, which is more than these cussed fellows do.’ He nodded towards the dragoons.
‘Hush40, hush! Why, these are friends and neighbours of Miller Loveday, and he is a great friend of ours—our best friend,’ said Anne with great emphasis, and reddening at the sense of injustice41 to their host. ‘What are you thinking of, talking like that? It is ungenerous in you.’
‘Ha, ha! I’ve affronted42 you. Isn’t that it, fair angel, fair—what do you call it?—fair vestal? Ah, well! would you was safe in my own house! But honour must be minded now, not courting. Rollicum-rorum, tol-lol-lorum. Pardon me, my sweet, I like ye! It may be a come down for me, owning land; but I do like ye.’
‘Sir, please be quiet,’ said Anne, distressed43.
‘I will, I will. Well, Corporal Tullidge, how’s your head?’ he said, going towards the other end of the room, and leaving Anne to herself.
The company had again recovered its liveliness, and it was a long time before the bouncing Rufus who had joined them could find heart to tear himself away from their society and good liquors, although he had had quite enough of the latter before he entered. The natives received him at his own valuation, and the soldiers of the camp, who sat beyond the table, smiled behind their pipes at his remarks, with a pleasant twinkle of the eye which approached the satirical, John Loveday being not the least conspicuous44 in this bearing. But he and his friends were too courteous45 on such an occasion as the present to challenge the young man’s large remarks, and readily permitted him to set them right on the details of camping and other military routine, about which the troopers seemed willing to let persons hold any opinion whatever, provided that they themselves were not obliged to give attention to it; showing, strangely enough, that if there was one subject more than another which never interested their minds, it was the art of war. To them the art of enjoying good company in Overcombe Mill, the details of the miller’s household, the swarming46 of his bees, the number of his chickens, and the fatness of his pigs, were matters of infinitely47 greater concern.
The present writer, to whom this party has been described times out of number by members of the Loveday family and other aged9 people now passed away, can never enter the old living-room of Overcombe Mill without beholding48 the genial scene through the mists of the seventy or eighty years that intervene between then and now. First and brightest to the eye are the dozen candles, scattered49 about regardless of expense, and kept well snuffed by the miller, who walks round the room at intervals50 of five minutes, snuffers in hand, and nips each wick with great precision, and with something of an executioner’s grim look upon his face as he closes the snuffers upon the neck of the candle. Next to the candle-light show the red and blue coats and white breeches of the soldiers—nearly twenty of them in all besides the ponderous51 Derriman—the head of the latter, and, indeed, the heads of all who are standing up, being in dangerous proximity52 to the black beams of the ceiling. There is not one among them who would attach any meaning to ‘Vittoria,’ or gather from the syllables53 ‘Waterloo’ the remotest idea of his own glory or death. Next appears the correct and innocent Anne, little thinking what things Time has in store for her at no great distance off. She looks at Derriman with a half-uneasy smile as he clanks hither and thither54, and hopes he will not single her out again to hold a private dialogue with—which, however, he does, irresistibly55 attracted by the white muslin figure. She must, of course, look a little gracious again now, lest his mood should turn from sentimental56 to quarrelsome—no impossible contingency57 with the yeoman-soldier, as her quick perception had noted58.
‘Well, well; this idling won’t do for me, folks,’ he at last said, to Anne’s relief. ‘I ought not to have come in, by rights; but I heard you enjoying yourselves, and thought it might be worth while to see what you were up to; I have several miles to go before bedtime;’ and stretching his arms, lifting his chin, and shaking his head, to eradicate59 any unseemly curve or wrinkle from his person, the yeoman wished them an off-hand good-night, and departed.
‘You should have teased him a little more, father,’ said the trumpet-major drily. ‘You could soon have made him as crabbed60 as a bear.’
‘I didn’t want to provoke the chap—’twasn’t worth while. He came in friendly enough,’ said the gentle miller without looking up.
‘I don’t think he was overmuch friendly,’ said John.
‘’Tis as well to be neighbourly with folks, if they be not quite onbearable,’ his father genially61 replied, as he took off his coat to go and draw more ale—this periodical stripping to the shirt-sleeves being necessitated62 by the narrowness of the cellar and the smeary63 effect of its numerous cobwebs upon best clothes.
Some of the guests then spoke64 of Fess Derriman as not such a bad young man if you took him right and humoured him; others said that he was nobody’s enemy but his own; and the elder ladies mentioned in a tone of interest that he was likely to come into a deal of money at his uncle’s death. The person who did not praise was the one who knew him best, who had known him as a boy years ago, when he had lived nearer to Overcombe than he did at present. This unappreciative person was the trumpet-major.
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1
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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7
trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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surmises
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的第三人称单数 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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11
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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12
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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14
sergeants
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| 警官( sergeant的名词复数 )； （美国警察）警佐； （英国警察）巡佐； 陆军（或空军）中士 | |
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15
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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16
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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miller
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| n.磨坊主 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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19
pounce
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| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
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satire
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| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
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21
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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22
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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23
deploying
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| （尤指军事行动）使展开( deploy的现在分词 )； 施展； 部署； 有效地利用 | |
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24
stanza
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| n.（诗）节，段 | |
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stentorian
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| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
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26
shutter
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| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
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27
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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ticklish
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| adj.怕痒的；问题棘手的；adv.怕痒地；n.怕痒，小心处理 | |
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sweepings
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| n.笼统的( sweeping的名词复数 )；（在投票等中的）大胜；影响广泛的；包罗万象的 | |
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38
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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41
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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42
affronted
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| adj.被侮辱的，被冒犯的v.勇敢地面对( affront的过去式和过去分词 )；相遇 | |
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43
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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44
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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45
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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46
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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47
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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48
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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49
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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50
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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51
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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52
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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53
syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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54
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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55
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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56
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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57
contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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58
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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59
eradicate
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| v.根除，消灭，杜绝 | |
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60
crabbed
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| adj.脾气坏的；易怒的；（指字迹）难辨认的；（字迹等）难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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62
necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
smeary
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| 弄脏的 | |
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64
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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