THE great Professor Challenger has been—very improperly1 and imperfectly—used in fiction. A daring author placed him in impossible and romantic situations in order to see how he would react to them. He reacted to the extent of a libel action, an abortive3 appeal for suppression, a riot in Sloane Street, two personal assaults, and the loss of his position as lecturer upon Physiology4 at the London School of Sub-Tropical Hygiene5. Otherwise, the matter passed more peaceably than might have been expected.
But he was losing something of his fire. Those huge shoulders were a little bowed. The spade-shaped Assyrian beard showed tangles6 of grey amid the black, his eyes were a trifle less aggressive, his smile less self-complacent, his voice as monstrous7 as ever but less ready to roar down all opposition8. Yet he was dangerous, as all around him were painfully aware. The volcano was not extinct, and constant rumblings threatened some new explosion. Life had much yet to teach him, but he was a little less intolerant in learning.
There was a definite date for the change which{12} had been wrought9 in him. It was the death of his wife. That little bird of a woman had made her nest in the big man’s heart. He had all the tenderness and chivalry10 which the strong can have for the weak. By yielding everything she had won everything, as a sweet-natured, tactful woman can. And when she died suddenly from virulent11 pneumonia12 following influenza13, the man staggered and went down. He came up again, smiling ruefully like the stricken boxer14, and ready to carry on for many a round with Fate. But he was not the same man, and if it had not been for the help and comradeship of his daughter Enid, he might never have rallied from the blow. She it was who, with clever craft, lured15 him into every subject which would excite his combative16 nature and infuriate his mind, until he lived once more in the present and not the past. It was only when she saw him turbulent in controversy17, violent to pressmen, and generally offensive to those around him, that she felt he was really in a fair way to recovery.
Enid Challenger was a remarkable18 girl and should have a paragraph to herself. With the raven-black hair of her father, and the blue eyes and fresh colour of her mother, she was striking, if not beautiful, in appearance. She was quiet, but she was very strong. From her infancy19 she had either to take her own part against her father, or else to consent to be crushed and to become a mere20 automaton21 worked by his strong fingers. She was strong enough to hold her own in a gentle, elastic22 fashion, which bent23 to his moods and reasserted itself when they were past. Lately she had felt the constant pressure too oppressive and she had relieved it by feeling out for a career of her own. She did occasional odd jobs for the London press, and did them in such fashion that her name was beginning{13} to be known in Fleet Street. In finding this opening she had been greatly helped by an old friend of her father—and possibly of the reader—Mr. Edward Malone of the Daily Gazette.
Malone was still the same athletic24 Irishman who had once won his international cap at Rugby, but life had toned him down also, and made him a more subdued25 and thoughtful man. He had put away a good deal when at last his football-boots had been packed away for good. His muscles may have wilted26 and his joints28 stiffened29, but his mind was deeper and more active. The boy was dead and the man was born. In person he had altered little, but his moustache was heavier, his back a little rounded, and some lines of thought were tracing themselves upon his brow. Post-war conditions and new world problems had left their mark. For the rest he had made his name in journalism30 and even to a small degree in literature. He was still a bachelor, though there were some who thought that his hold on that condition was precarious31, and that Miss Enid Challenger’s little white fingers could disengage it. Certainly they were very good chums.
It was a Sunday evening in October, and the lights were just beginning to twinkle out through the fog which had shrouded32 London from early morning. Professor Challenger’s flat at Victoria West Gardens was upon the third floor, and the mist lay thick upon the windows, while the low hum of the attenuated33 Sunday traffic rose up from an invisible highway beneath, which was outlined only by scattered34 patches of dull radiance. Professor Challenger sat with his thick, bandy legs outstretched to the fire, and his hands thrust deeply into his trouser pockets. His dress had a little of the eccentricity35 of genius, for he wore a{14} loose-collared shirt, a large knotted maroon-coloured silk tie, and a black velvet36 smoking-jacket, which, with his flowing beard, gave him the appearance of an elderly and Bohemian artist. On one side of him ready for an excursion, with bowl hat, short-skirted dress of black, and all the other fashionable devices with which women contrive37 to deform38 the beauties of nature, there sat his daughter, while Malone, hat in hand, waited by the window.
“I think we should get off, Enid. It is nearly seven,” said he.
They were writing joint27 articles upon the religious denominations39 of London, and on each Sunday evening they sallied out together to sample some new one and get copy for the next week’s issue of the Gazette.
“Sit down, sir! Sit down!” boomed Challenger, tugging40 at his beard as was his habit if his temper was rising. “There is nothing annoys me more than having anyone standing41 behind me. A relic42 of atavism and the fear of a dagger43, but still persistent44. That’s right. For heaven’s sake put your hat down! You have a perpetual air of catching45 a train.”
“That’s the journalistic life,” said Malone. “If we don’t catch the perpetual train we get left. Even Enid is beginning to understand that. But still, as you say, there is time enough.”
“How far have you got?” asked Challenger.
Enid consulted a business-like little reporter’s notebook.
“We have done seven. There was Westminster Abbey for the Church in its most picturesque46 form, and Saint Agatha for the High Church, and Tudor Place for the Low. Then there was the Westminster Cathedral for Catholics, Endell Street for Pres{15}byterians, and Gloucester Square for Unitarians. But to-night we are trying to introduce some variety. We are doing the Spiritualists.”
“Next week the lunatic asylums48, I presume,” said he. “You don’t mean to tell me, Malone, that these ghost people have got churches of their own.”
“I’ve been looking into that,” said Malone. “I always look up cold facts and figures before I tackle a job. They have over four hundred registered churches in Great Britain.”
“There seems to me to be absolutely no limit to the inanity51 and credulity of the human race. Homo sapiens! Homo idioticus! Whom do they pray to—the ghosts?”
“Well, that’s what we want to find out. We should get some copy out of them. I need not say that I share your view entirely52, but I’ve seen something of Atkinson of St. Mary’s Hospital lately. He is a rising surgeon, you know.”
“I’ve heard of him—cerebro-spinal.”
“That’s the man. He is level-headed and is looked on as an authority on psychic53 research, as they call the new science which deals with these matters.”
“Science, indeed!”
“Well, that is what they call it. He seems to take these people seriously. I consult him when I want a reference, for he has the literature at his fingers’ end. ‘Pioneers of the Human Race’—that was his description.”
“Well, that was another surprise. Atkinson has five hundred volumes, but complains that his psychic library is very imperfect. You see, there is French, German, Italian, as well as our own.”
“Have you read it up at all, Father?” asked Enid.
“Read it up! I, with all my interests and no time for one-half of them! Enid, you are too absurd.”
Challenger’s huge head swung round and his lion’s glare rested upon his daughter.
“Do you conceive that a logical brain, a brain of the first order, needs to read and to study before it can detect a manifest absurdity57? Am I to study mathematics in order to confute the man who tells me that two and two are five? Must I study physics once more and take down my Principia because some rogue58 or fool insists that a table can rise in the air against the law of gravity? Does it take five hundred volumes to inform us of a thing which is proved in every police-court when an impostor is exposed? Enid, I am ashamed of you!”
His daughter laughed merrily.
“Well, Dad, you need not roar at me any more. I give in. In fact, I have the same feeling that you have.”
“None the less,” said Malone, “some good men support them. I don’t see that you can laugh at Lodge59 and Crookes and the others.”
“Don’t be absurd, Malone. Every great mind has its weaker side. It is a sort of reaction against all the good sense. You come suddenly upon a vein60 of positive nonsense. That is what is the matter with these{17} fellows. No, Enid, I haven’t read their reasons, and I don’t mean to, either; some things are beyond the pale. If we re-open all the old questions, how can we ever get ahead with the new ones? This matter is settled by common sense, the law of England, and by the universal assent61 of every sane62 European.”
“So that’s that!” said Enid.
“However,” he continued, “I can admit that there are occasional excuses for misunderstandings upon the point.” He sank his voice, and his great grey eyes looked sadly up into vacancy63. “I have known cases where the coldest intellect—even my own intellect—might, for a moment, have been shaken.”
“Yes, sir?”
Challenger hesitated. He seemed to be struggling with himself. He wished to speak, and yet speech was painful. Then, with an abrupt65, impatient gesture, he plunged66 into his story:
“I never told you, Enid. It was too—too intimate. Perhaps too absurd. I was ashamed to have been so shaken. But it shows how even the best balanced may be caught unawares.”
“Yes, sir?”
“It was after my wife’s death. You knew her, Malone. You can guess what it meant to me. It was the night after the cremation67 ... horrible, Malone, horrible! I saw the dear little body slide down, down—and then the glare of flame and the door clanged to.” His great body shook and he passed his big, hairy hand over his eyes.
“I don’t know why I tell you this; the talk seemed to lead up to it. It may be a warning to you. That night—the night after the cremation—I sat up in the hall. She was there,” he nodded at Enid. “She had{18} fallen asleep in a chair, poor girl. You know the house at Rotherfield, Malone. It was in the big hall. I sat by the fireplace, the room all draped in shadow, and my mind draped in shadow also. I should have sent her to bed, but she was lying back in her chair and I did not wish to wake her. It may have been one in the morning—I remember the moon shining through the stained-glass window. I sat and I brooded. Then suddenly there came a noise.”
“Yes, sir?”
“It was low at first—just a ticking. Then it grew louder and more distinct—it was a clear rat-tat-tat. Now comes the queer coincidence, the sort of thing out of which legends grow when credulous68 folk have the shaping of them. You must know that my wife had a peculiar69 way of knocking at a door. It was really a little tune70 which she played with her fingers. I got into the same way so that we could each know when the other knocked. Well, it seemed to me—of course my mind was strained and abnormal—that the taps shaped themselves into the well-known rhythm of her knock. I couldn’t localise it. You can think how eagerly I tried. It was above me, somewhere on the woodwork. I lost sense of time. I daresay it was repeated a dozen times at least.”
“Oh, Dad, you never told me!”
“No, but I woke you up. I asked you to sit quiet with me for a little.”
“Yes, I remember that.”
“Well, we sat, but nothing happened. Not a sound more. Of course it was a delusion71. Some insect in the wood; the ivy72 on the outer wall. My own brain furnished the rhythm. Thus do we make fools and children of ourselves. But it gave me an insight. I{19} saw how even a clever man could be deceived by his own emotions.”
“But how do you know, sir, that it was not your wife?”
“Absurd, Malone! Absurd, I say! I tell you I saw her in the flames. What was there left?”
“Her soul, her spirit.”
Challenger shook his head sadly.
“When the dear body dissolved into its elements—when its gases went into the air and its residue73 of solids sank into a grey dust—it was the end. There was no more. She had played her part, played it beautifully, nobly. It was done. Death ends all, Malone. This soul-talk is the Animism of savages74. It is a superstition75, a myth. As a physiologist76 I will undertake to produce crime or virtue77 by vascular78 control or cerebral79 stimulation80. I will turn a Jekyll into a Hyde by a surgical81 operation. Another can do it by a psychological suggestion. Alcohol will do it. Drugs will do it. Absurd, Malone, absurd! As the tree falls, so does it lie. There is no next morning ... night—eternal night ... and long rest for the weary worker.”
“Well, it’s a sad philosophy.”
“Better a sad than a false one.”
“Perhaps so. There is something virile82 and manly83 in facing the worst. I would not contradict. My reason is with you.”
“But my instincts are against!” cried Enid. “No, no, never can I believe it.” She threw her arms round the great bull neck. “Don’t tell me, daddy, that you with all your complex brain and wonderful self are a thing with no more life hereafter than a broken clock!”
“Four buckets of water and a bagful of salts,” said{20} Challenger as he smilingly detached his daughter’s grip. “That’s your daddy, my lass, and you may as well reconcile your mind to it. Well, it’s twenty to eight. Come back, if you can, Malone, and let me hear your adventures among the insane.{21}”
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1
improperly
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| 不正确地，不适当地 | |
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ted
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| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
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abortive
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| adj.不成功的，发育不全的 | |
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physiology
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| n.生理学，生理机能 | |
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hygiene
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| n.健康法，卫生学 （a.hygienic） | |
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tangles
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| （使）缠结， （使）乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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virulent
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| adj.有毒的，有恶意的，充满敌意的 | |
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pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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influenza
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| n.流行性感冒，流感 | |
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boxer
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| n.制箱者，拳击手 | |
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lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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combative
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| adj.好战的；好斗的 | |
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controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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18
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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wilted
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| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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deform
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| vt.损坏…的形状；使变形，使变丑；vi.变形 | |
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denominations
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| n.宗派( denomination的名词复数 )；教派；面额；名称 | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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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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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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asylums
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| n.避难所( asylum的名词复数 )；庇护；政治避难；精神病院 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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buffaloes
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| n.水牛（分非洲水牛和亚洲水牛两种）( buffalo的名词复数 )；（南非或北美的）野牛；威胁；恐吓 | |
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inanity
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| n.无意义，无聊 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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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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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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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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absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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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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cremation
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| n.火葬，火化 | |
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credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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residue
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| n.残余，剩余，残渣 | |
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74
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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75
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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physiologist
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| n.生理学家 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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vascular
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| adj.血管的，脉管的 | |
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cerebral
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| adj.脑的，大脑的；有智力的，理智型的 | |
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80
stimulation
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| n.刺激，激励，鼓舞 | |
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surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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82
virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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