121小说

手机浏览器扫描二维码访问

第13部分（第1页）

roof　that　will　leak；　for　the　tree　that　will　fall。　There　was　always　a　warm　corner　for　the　old　shepherd　in　the　kitchen；　always　food　for　the　hungry；　always　their　goblets　were　polished；　though　they　lay　sick；　and　their　windows　were　lit　though　they　lay　dying。　Lords　though　they　were；　they　were　content　to　go　down　into　obscurity　with　the　molecatcher　and　the　stone–mason。　Obscure　noblemen；　forgotten　builders—thus　he　apostrophized　them　with　a　warmth　that　entirely　gainsaid　such　critics　as　called　him　cold；　indifferent；　slothful　（the　truth　being　that　a　quality　often　lies　just　on　the　other　side　of　the　wall　from　where　we　seek　it）—thus　he　apostrophized　his　house　and　race　in　terms　of　the　most　moving　eloquence；　but　when　it　came　to　the　peroration—and　what　is　eloquence　that　lacks　a　peroration？—he　fumbled。　He　would　have　liked　to　have　ended　with　a　flourish　to　the　effect　that　he　would　follow　in　their　footsteps　and　add　another　stone　to　their　building。　Since；　however；　the　building　already　covered　nine　acres；　to　add　even　a　single　stone　seemed　superfluous。　Could　one　mention　furniture　in　a　peroration？　Could　one　speak　of　chairs　and　tables　and　mats　to　lie　beside　people’s　beds？　For　whatever　the　peroration　wanted；　that　was　what　the　house　stood　in　need　of。　Leaving　his　speech　unfinished　for　the　moment；　he　strode　down　hill　again　resolved　henceforward　to　devote　himself　to　the　furnishing　of　the　mansion。　The　news—that　she　was　to　attend　him　instantly—brought　tears　to　the　eyes　of　good　old　Mrs　Grimsditch；　now　grown　somewhat　old。　Together　they　perambulated　the　house。

The　towel　horse　in　the　King’s　bedroom　（’and　that　was　King　Jamie；　my　Lord；’　she　said；　hinting　that　it　was　many　a　day　since　a　King　had　slept　under　their　roof；　but　the　odious　Parliament　days　were　over　and　there　was　now　a　Crown　in　England　again）　lacked　a　leg；　there　were　no　stands　to　the　ewers　in　the　little　closet　leading　into　the　waiting　room　of　the　Duchess’s　page；　Mr　Greene　had　made　a　stain　on　the　carpet　with　his　nasty　pipe　smoking；　which　she　and　Judy；　for　all　their　scrubbing；　had　never　been　able　to　wash　out。　Indeed；　when　Orlando　came　to　reckon　up　the　matter　of　furnishing　with　rosewood　chairs　and　cedar–wood　cabis；　with　silver　basins；　china　bowls；　and　Persian　carpets；　every　one　of　the　three　hundred　and　sixty–five　bedrooms　which　the　house　contained；　he　saw　that　it　would　be　no　light　one；　and　if　some　thousands　of　pounds　of　his　estate　remained　over；　these　would　do　little　more　than　hang　a　few　galleries　with　tapestry；　set　the　dining　hall　with　fine；　carved　chairs　and　provide　mirrors　of　solid　silver　and　chairs　of　the　same　metal　（for　which　he　had　an　inordinate　passion）　for　the　furnishing　of　the　royal　bedchambers。

He　now　set　to　work　in　earnest；　as　we　can　prove　beyond　a　doubt　if　we　look　at　his　ledgers。　Let　us　glance　at　an　inventory　of　what　he　bought　at　this　time；　with　the　expenses　totted　up　in　the　margin—but　these　we　omit。

‘To　fifty　pairs　of　Spanish　blankets；　ditto　curtains　of　crimson　and　white　taffeta；　the　valence　to　them　of　white　satin　embroidered　with　crimson　and　white　silk。。。

‘To　seventy　yellow　satin　chairs　and　sixty　stools；　suitable　with　their　buckram　covers　to　them　all。。。

‘To　sixty　seven　walnut　tree　tables。。。

‘To　seventeen　dozen　boxes　containing　each　dozen　five　dozen　of　Venice　glasses。。。

‘To　one　hundred　and　two　mats；　each　thirty　yards　long。。。

‘To　niy　seven　cushions　of　crimson　damask　laid　with　silver　parchment　lace　and　footstools　of　cloth　of　tissue　and　chairs　suitable。。。

‘To　fifty　branches　for　a　dozen　lights　apiece。。。’

Already—it　is　an　effect　lists　have　upon　us—we　are　beginning　to　yawn。　But　if　we　stop；　it　is　only　that　the　catalogue　is　tedious；　not　that　it　is　finished。　There　are　niy–nine　pages　more　of　it　and　the　total　sum　disbursed　ran　into　many　thousands—that　is　to　say　millions　of　our　money。　And　if　his　day　was　spent　like　this；　at　night　again；　Lord　Orlando　might　be　found　reckoning　out　what　it　would　cost　to　level　a　million　molehills；　if　the　men　were　paid　tenpence　an　hour；　and　again；　how　many　hundredweight　of　nails　at　fivepence　halfpenny　a　gill　were　needed　to　repair　the　fence　round　the　park；　which　was　fifteen　miles　in　circumference。　And　so　on　and　so　on。

The　tale；　we　say；　is　tedious；　for　one　cupboard　is　much　like　another；　and　one　molehill　not　much　different　from　a　million。　Some　pleasant　journeys　it　cost　him；　and　some　fine　adventures。　As；　for　instance；　when　he　set　a　whole　city　of　blind　women　near　Bruges　to　stitch　hangings　for　a　silver　canopied　bed；　and　the　story　of　his　adventure　with　a　Moor　in　Venice　of　whom　he　bought　（but　only　at　the　sword’s　point）　his　lacquered　cabi；　might；　in　other　hands；　prove　worth　the　telling。　Nor　did　the　work　lack　variety；　for　here　would　e；　drawn　by　teams　from　Sussex；　great　trees；　to　be　sawn　across　and　laid　along　the　gallery　for　flooring；　and　then　a　chest　from　Persia；　stuffed　with　wool　and　sawdust。　from　which；　at　last；　he　would　take　a　single　plate；　or　one　topaz　ring。

At　length；　however；　there　was　no　room　in　the　galleries　for　another　table；　no　room　on　the　tables　for　another　cabi；　no　room　in　the　cabi　for　another　rose–bowl；　no　room　in　the　bowl　for　another　handful　of　potpourri；　there　was　no　room　for　anything　anywhere；　in　short　the　house　was　furnished。　In　the　garden　snowdrops；　crocuses；　hyacinths；　magnolias；　roses；　lilies；　asters；　the　dahlia　in　all　its　varieties；　pear　trees　and　apple　trees　and　cherry　trees　and　mulberry　trees；　with　an　enormous　quantity　of　rare　and　flowering　shrubs；　of　trees　evergreen　and　perennial；　grew　so　thick　on　each　other’s　roots　that　there　was　no　plot　of　earth　without　its　bloom；　and　no　stretch　of　sward　without　its　shade。　In　addition；　he　had　imported　wild　fowl　with　gay　plumage；　and　two　Malay　bears；　the　surliness　of　whose　manners　concealed；　he　was　certain；　trusty　hearts。

All　now　was　ready；　and　when　it　was　evening　and　the　innumerable　silver　sconces　were　lit　and　the　light　airs　which　for　ever　moved　about　the　galleries　stirred　the　blue　and　green　arras；　so　that　it　looked　as　if　the　huntsmen　were　riding　and　Daphne　flying；　when　the　silver　shone　and　lacquer　glowed　and　wood　kindled；　when　the　carved　chairs　held　their　arms　out　and　dolphins　swam　upon　the　walls　with　mermaids　on　their　backs；　when　all　this　and　much　more　than　all　this　was　plete　and　to　his　liking；　Orlando　walked　through　the　house　with　his　elk　hounds　following　and　felt　content。　He　had　matter　now；　he　thought；　to　fill　out　his　peroration。　Perhaps　it　would　be　well　to　begin　the　speech　all　over　again。　Yet；　as　he　paraded　the　galleries　he　felt　that　still　something　was　lacking。　Chairs　and　tables；　however　richly　gilt　and　carved；　sofas；　resting　on　lions’　paws　with　swans’　necks　curving　under　them；　beds　even　of　the　softest　swansdown　are　not　by　themselves　enough。　People　sitting　in　them；　people　lying　in　them　improve　them　amazingly。　Accordingly　Orlando　now　began　a　series　of　very　splendid　entertainments　to　the　nobility　and　gentry　of　the　neighbourhood。　The　three　hundred　and　sixty–five　bedrooms　were　full　for　a　month　at　a　time。　Guests　jostled　each　other　on　the　fifty–two　staircases。　Three　hundred　servants　bustled　about　the　pantries。　Banquets　took　place　almost　nightly。　Thus；　in　a　very　few　years；　Orlando　had　worn　the　nap　off　his　velvet；　and　spent　the　half　of　his　fortune；　but　he　had　earned　the　good　opinion　of　his　neighbours。　held　a　score　of　offices　in　the　county；　and　was　annually　presented　with　perhaps　a　dozen　volumes　dedicated　to　his　Lordship　in　rather　fulsome　terms　by　grateful　poets。　For　though　he　was　careful　not　to　consort　with　writers　at　that　time　and　kept　himself　always　aloof　from　ladies　of　foreign　blood；　still；　he　was　excessively　generous　both　to　women　and　to　poets；　and　both　adored　him。

But　when　the　feasting　was　at　its　height　and　his　guests　were　at　their　revels；　he　was　apt　to　take　himself　off　to　his　private　room　alone。　There　when　the　door　was　shut；　and　he　was　certain　of　privacy；　he　would　have　out　an　old　writing　book；　stitched　together　with　silk　stolen　from　his　mother’s　workbox；　and　labelled　in　a　round　schoolboy　hand；　‘The　Oak　Tree；　A　Poem’。　In　this　he　would　write　till　midnight　chimed　and　long　after。　But　as　he　scratched　out　as　many　lines　as　he　wrote　in；　the　sum　of　them　was　often；　at　the　end　of　the　year；　rather　less　than　at　the　beginning；　and　it　looked　as　if　in　the　process　of　writing　the　poem　would　be　pletely　unwritten。　For　it　is　for　the　historian　of　letters　to　remark　that　he　had　changed　his　style　amazingly。　His　floridity　was　chastened；　his　abundance　curbed；　the　age　of　prose　was　congealing　those　warm　fountains。　The　very　landscape　outside　was　less　stuck　about　with　garlands　and　the　briars　themselves　were　less　thorned　and　intricate。　Perhaps　the　senses　were　a　little　duller　and　honey　and　cream　less　seductive　to　the　palate。　Also　that　the　streets　were　better　drained　and　the　houses　better　lit　had　its　effect　upon　the　style；　it　cannot　be　doubted。

One　day　he　was　adding　a　line　or　two　with　enormous　labour　to　‘The　Oak　Tree；　A　Poem’；　when　a　shadow　crossed　the　tail　of　his　eye。　It　was　no　shadow；　he　soon　saw；　but　the　figure　of　a　very　tall　lady　in　riding　hood　and　mantle　crossing　the　quadrangle　on　which　his　room　looked　out。　As　this　was　the　most　private　of　the　courts；　and　the　lady　was　a　stranger　to　him；　Orlando　marvelled　how　she　had　got　there。　Three　days　later　the　same　apparition　appeared　again；　and　on　Wednesday　noon　appeared　once　more。　This　time；　Orlando　was　determined　to　follow　her；　nor　apparently　was　she　afraid　to　be　found；　for　she　slackened　her　steps　as　he　came　up　and　looked　him　full　in　the　face。　Any　other　woman　thus　caught　in　a　Lord’s　private　grounds　would　have　been　afraid；　any　other　woman　with　that　face；　head–dress；　and　aspect　would　have　thrown　her　mantilla　across　her　shoulders　to　hide　it。　For　this　lady　resembled　nothing　so　much　as　a　hare；　a　hare　startled；　but　obdurate；　a　hare　whose　timidity　is　overe　by　an　immense　and　foolish　audacity；　a　hare　that　sits　upright　and　glowers　at　its　pursuer　with　great；　bulging　eyes；　with　ears　erect　but　quivering；　with　nose　pointed；　but　twitching。　This　hare；　moreover；　was　six　feet　high　and　wore　a　head–dress　into　the　bargain　of　some　antiquated　kind　which　made　her　look　still　taller。　Thus　confronted；　she　stared　at　Orlando　with　a　stare　in　which　timidity　and　audacity　were　most　strangely　bined。

First；　she　asked　him；　with　a　proper；　but　somewhat　clumsy　curtsey；　to　forgive　her　her　intrusion。　Then；　rising　to　her　full　height　again；　which　must　have　been　something　over　six　feet　two；　she　went　on　to　say—but　with　such　a　cackle　of　nervous　laughter；　so　much　tee–heeing　and　haw–hawing　that　Orlando　thought　she　must　have　escaped　from　a　lunatic　asylum—that　she　was　the　Archduchess　Harriet　Griselda　of　Finster–Aarhorn　and　Scand–op–Boom　in　the　Roumanian　territory。　She　desired　above　all　things　to　make　his　acquaintance；　she　said。　She　had　taken　lodging　over　a　baker’s　shop　at　the　Park　Gates。　She　had　seen　his　picture　and　it　was　the　image　of　a　sister　of　hers　who　was—here　she　guffawed—long　since　dead。　She　was　visiting　the　English　court。　The　Queen　was　her　Cousin。　The　King　was　a　very　good　fellow　but　seldom　went　to　bed　sober。　Here　she　tee–heed　and　haw–hawed　again。　In　short；　there　was　nothing　for　it　but　to　ask　her　in　and　give　her　a　glass　of　wine。

Indoors；　her　manners　regained　the　hauteur　natural　to　a　Roumanian　Archduchess；　and　had　she　not　shown　a　knowledge　of　wines　rare　in　a　lady；　and　made　some　o

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