Two days later Willard Bent1 sat in the shade of a ruined tomb outside the Gate of the Graves, and watched the people streaming in to Eloued. It was the eve of the feast of the local saint, Sidi Oman, who slept in a corner of the Great Mosque2, under a segment of green-tiled cupola, and was held in deep reverence3 by the country people, many of whom belonged to the powerful fraternity founded in his name.
The ruin stood on a hillock beyond the outer wall. From where the missionary4 sat he overlooked the fortified5 gate and the irregular expanse of the Potters’ Field, with its primitive6 furnaces built into hollows of the ground, between ridges7 shaded by stunted8 olive-trees. On the farther side of the trail which the pilgrims followed on entering the gate lay a sun-blistered expanse dotted with crooked9 grave-stones, where hucksters traded, and the humblest caravans10 camped in a waste of refuse, offal and stripped date-branches. A cloud of dust, perpetually subsiding11 and gathering12 again, hid these sordid13 details from Bent’s eyes, but not from his imagination.
“Nowhere in Eloued,” he thought with a shudder14, “are the flies as fat and blue as they are inside that gate.”
But this was a fugitive15 reflection: his mind was wholly absorbed in what had happened in the last forty-eight hours, and what was likely to happen in the next.
“To think,” he mused16, “that after ten years I don’t really know him . . . A labourer in the Lord’s vineyard — shows how much good I am!”
His thoughts were moody17 and oppressed with fear. Never, since his first meeting with Mr. Blandhorn, had he pondered so deeply the problem of his superior’s character. He tried to deduce from the past some inference as to what Mr. Blandhorn was likely to do next; but, as far as he knew, there was nothing in the old man’s previous history resembling the midnight scene on the Mission terrace.
That scene had already had its repercussion18.
On the following morning, Willard, drifting as usual about the bazaar19, had met a friendly French official, who, taking him aside, had told him there were strange reports abroad — which he hoped Mr. Bent would be able to deny . . . In short, as it had never been Mr. Blandhorn’s policy to offend the native population, or insult their religion, the Administration was confident that . . .
Surprised by Willard’s silence, and visibly annoyed at being obliged to pursue the subject, the friendly official, growing graver, had then asked what had really occurred; and, on Willard’s replying, had charged him with an earnest recommendation to his superior — a warning, if necessary — that the government would not, under any circumstances, tolerate a repetition . . . “But I daresay it was the heat?” he concluded; and Willard weakly acquiesced20.
He was ashamed now of having done so; yet, after all, how did he know it was not the heat? A heavy sanguine21 man like Mr. Blandhorn would probably never quite accustom22 himself to the long strain of the African summer. “Or his wife’s death — ” he had murmured to the sympathetic official, who smiled with relief at the suggestion.
And now he sat overlooking the enigmatic city, and asking himself again what he really knew of his superior. Mr. Blandhorn had come to Eloued as a young man, extremely poor, and dependent on the pittance24 which the Missionary Society at that time gave to its representatives. To ingratiate himself among the people (the expression was his own), and also to earn a few pesetas, he had worked as a carpenter in the bazaar, first in the soukh of the ploughshares and then in that of the cabinet-makers. His skill in carpentry had not been great, for his large eloquent25 hands were meant to wave from a pulpit, and not to use the adze or the chisel26; but he had picked up a little Arabic (Willard always marvelled27 that it remained so little), and had made many acquaintances — and, as he thought, some converts. At any rate, no one, either then or later, appeared to wish him ill, and during the massacre28 his house had been respected, and the insurgents29 had even winked30 at the aid he had courageously32 given to the French.
Yes — he had certainly been courageous31. There was in him, in spite of his weaknesses and his vacillations, a streak33 of moral heroism34 that perhaps only waited its hour . . . But hitherto his principle had always been that the missionary must win converts by kindness, by tolerance35, and by the example of a blameless life.
Could it really be Harry36 Spink’s question that had shaken him in this belief? Or was it the long-accumulated sense of inefficiency37 that so often weighed on his disciple38? Or was it simply the call — did it just mean that their hour had come?
Shivering a little in spite of the heat, Willard pulled himself together and descended39 into the city. He had been seized with a sudden desire to know what Mr. Blandhorn was about, and avoiding the crowd he hurried back by circuitous40 lanes to the Mission. On the way he paused at a certain corner and looked into a court full of the murmur23 of water. Beyond it was an arcade41 detached against depths of shadow, in which a few lights glimmered42. White figures, all facing one way, crouched43 and touched their foreheads to the tiles, the soles of their bare feet, wet with recent ablutions, turning up as their bodies swayed forward. Willard caught the scowl44 of a beggar on the threshold, and hurried past the forbidden scene.
He found Mr. Blandhorn in the meeting-room, tying up Ayoub’s head.
“I do it awkwardly,” the missionary mumbled45, a safety-pin between his teeth. “Alas, my hands are not hers.”
“What’s he done to himself?” Willard growled46; and above the bandaged head Mr. Blandhorn’s expressive47 eyebrows48 answered.
There was a dark stain on the back of Ayoub’s faded shirt, and another on the blue scarf he wore about his head.
“Ugh — it’s like cats slinking back after a gutter-fight,” the young man muttered.
Ayoub wound his scarf over the bandages, shambled back to the doorway49, and squatted50 down to watch the fig-tree.
The missionaries51 looked at each other across the empty room.
“What’s the use, sir?” was on Willard’s lips; but instead of speaking he threw himself down on the divan52. There was to be no prayer-meeting that afternoon, and the two men sat silent, gazing at the back of Ayoub’s head. A smell of disinfectants hung in the heavy air . . .
“Where’s Myriem?” Willard asked, to say something.
“I believe she had a ceremony of some sort . . . a family affair . . . ”
“A circumcision, I suppose?”
Mr. Blandhorn did not answer, and Willard was sorry he had made the suggestion. It would simply serve as another reminder53 of their failure . . .
He stole a furtive54 glance at Mr. Bland-horn, nervously55 wondering if the time had come to speak of the French official’s warning. He had put off doing so, half-hoping it would not be necessary. The old man seemed so calm, so like his usual self, that it might be wiser to let the matter drop. Perhaps he had already forgotten the scene on the terrace; or perhaps he thought he had sufficiently56 witnessed for the Lord in shouting his insult to the muezzin. But Willard did not really believe this: he remembered the tremor57 which had shaken Mr. Blandhorn after the challenge, and he felt sure it was not a retrospective fear.
“Our friend Spink has been with me,” said Mr. Blandhorn suddenly. “He came in soon after you left.”
“Ah? I’m sorry I missed him. I thought he’d gone, from his not coming in yesterday.”
“No; he leaves tomorrow morning for Mogador.” Mr Blandhorn paused, still absently staring at the back of Ayoub’s neck; then he added: “I have asked him to take you with him.”
“To take me — Harry Spink? In his automobile58?” Willard gasped59. His heart began to beat excitedly.
“Yes. You’ll enjoy the ride. It’s a long time since you’ve been away, and you’re looking a little pulled down.”
“You’re very kind, sir: so is Harry.” He paused. “But I’d rather not.”
Mr. Blandhorn, turning slightly, examined him between half-dropped lids.
“I have business for you — with the Consul60,” he said with a certain sternness. “I don’t suppose you will object — ”
“Oh, of course not.” There was another pause. “Could you tell me — give me an idea — of what the business is, sir?”
It was Mr. Blandhorn’s turn to appear perturbed61. He coughed, passed his hand once or twice over his beard, and again fixed62 his gaze on Ayoub’s inscrutable nape.
“I wish to send a letter to the Consul.”
“A letter? If it’s only a letter, couldn’t Spink take it?”
“Undoubtedly. I might also send it by post — if I cared to transmit it in that manner. I presumed,” added Mr. Blandhorn with threatening brows, “that you would understand I had my reasons — ”
“Oh, in that case, of course, sir — ” Willard hesitated, and then spoke63 with a rush. “I saw Lieutenant64 Lourdenay in the bazaar yesterday — ” he began.
When he had finished his tale Mr. Bland-horn meditated65 for a long time in silence. At length he spoke in a calm voice. “And what did you answer, Willard?”
“I— I said I’d tell you — ”
“Nothing more?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Very well. We’ll talk of all this more fully66 . . . when you get back from Mogador. Remember that Mr. Spink will be here before sunrise. I advised him to get away as early as possible on account of the Feast of Sidi Oman. It’s always a poor day for foreigners to be seen about the streets.”
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1
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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mosque
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| n.清真寺 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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caravans
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| （可供居住的）拖车（通常由机动车拖行）( caravan的名词复数 )； 篷车； （穿过沙漠地带的）旅行队（如商队） | |
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subsiding
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的现在分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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repercussion
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| n.[常pl.](不良的)影响，反响，后果 | |
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bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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accustom
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| vt.使适应，使习惯 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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pittance
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| n.微薄的薪水，少量 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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chisel
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| n.凿子；v.用凿子刻，雕，凿 | |
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marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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insurgents
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| n.起义，暴动，造反( insurgent的名词复数 ) | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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courageously
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| ad.勇敢地，无畏地 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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inefficiency
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| n.无效率，无能；无效率事例 | |
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disciple
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| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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circuitous
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| adj.迂回的路的，迂曲的，绕行的 | |
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arcade
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| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
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glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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45
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
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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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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52
divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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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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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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