english stories-london-第15部分

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of　the　block；　lengthened　out　the　formulae　for　the　other　pairs；　and

blessed　them　with　more　reposeful　unction。　It　was　impossible　to　stave

off　the　Leibel…Green　item　indefinitely；　and　at　last　Rose　remained　the

only　orange…wreathed　spinster　in　the　synagogue。　And　then　there　was　a

hush　of　solemn　suspense；　that　swelled　gradually　into　a　steady　rumble

of　babbling　tongues；　as　minute　succeeded　minute　and　the　final　bridal

party　still　failed　to　appear。　The　latest　bulletin　pictured　the　bride

in　a　dead　faint。　The　afternoon　was　waning　fast。　The　minister　left　his

post　near　the　canopy；　under　which　so　many　lives　had　been　united；　and

came　to　add　his　white　tie　to　the　forces　for　compromise。　But　he　fared

no　better　than　the　others。　Incensed　at　the　obstinacy　of　the

antagonists；　he　declared　he　would　close　the　synagogue。　He　gave　the

couple　ten　minutes　to　marry　in　or　quit。　Then　chaos　came；　and

pandemoniuma　frantic　babel　of　suggestion　and　exhortation　from　the

crowd。　When　five　minutes　had　passed　a　legate　from　Eliphaz　announced

that　his　side　had　scraped　together　twenty　pounds；　and　that　this　was

their　final　bid。



Leibel　wavered；　the　long　day's　combat　had　told　upon　him；　the　reports

of　the　bride's　distress　had　weakened　him。　Even　Sugarman　had　lost　his

cocksureness　of　victory。　A　few　minutes　more　and　both　commissions　might

slip　through　his　fingers。　Once　the　parties　left　the　synagogue；　it

would　not　be　easy　to　drive　them　there　another　day。　But　he　cheered　on

his　man　still：　one　could　always　surrender　at　the　tenth　minute。



At　the　eighth　the　buzz　of　tongues　faltered　suddenly；　to　be　transposed

into　a　new　key；　so　to　speak。　Through　the　gesticulating　assembly　swept

that　murmur　of　expectation　which　crowds　know　when　the　procession　is

coming　at　last。　By　some　mysterious　magnetism　all　were　aware　that　the

BRIDE　herselfthe　poor　hysteric　bridehad　left　the　paternal　camp；

was　coming　in　person　to　plead　with　her　mercenary　lover。



And　as　the　glory　of　her　and　the　flowers　and　the　white　draperies　loomed

upon　Leibel's　vision　his　heart　melted　in　worship；　and　he　knew　his

citadel　would　crumble　in　ruins　at　her　first　glance；　at　her　first

touch。　Was　it　fair　fighting？　As　his　troubled　vision　cleared；　and　as

she　came　nigh　unto　him；　he　saw　to　his　amazement　that　she　was　speckless

and　composedno　trace　of　tears　dimmed　the　fairness　of　her　face；　there

was　no　disarray　in　her　bridal　wreath。



The　clock　showed　the　ninth　minute。



She　put　her　hand　appeallingly　on　his　arm；　while　a　heavenly　light　came

into　her　facethe　expression　of　a　Joan　of　Arc　animating　her　country。



〃Do　not　give　in；　Leibel！〃　she　said。　〃Do　not　have　me！　Do　not　let　them

persuade　thee！　By　my　life；　thou　must　not！　Go　home！〃







So　at　the　eleventh　minute　the　vanquished　Eliphaz　produced　the　balance；

and　they　all　lived　happily　ever　afterward。







AN　IDYL　OF　LONDON



BY



BEATRICE　HARRADEN







It　was　one　o'clock；　and　many　of　the　students　in　the　National　Gallery

had　left　off　work　and　were　refreshing　themselves　with　lunch　and

conversation。　There　was　one　old　worker　who　had　not　stirred　from　his

place；　but　he　had　put　down　his　brush；　and　had　taken　from　his　pocket　a

small　book；　which　was　like　its　ownerthin　and　shabby　of　covering。　He

seemed　to　find　pleasure　in　reading　it；　for　he　turned　over　its　pages

with　all　the　tenderness　characteristic　of　one　who　loves　what　he　reads。

Now　and　again　he　glanced　at　his　unfinished　copy　of　the　beautiful

portrait　of　Andrea　del　Sarto；　and　once　his　eyes　rested　on　another　copy

next　to　his；　better　and　truer　than　his；　and　once　he　stopped　to　pick　up

a　girl's　prune…coloured　tie；　which　had　fallen　from　the　neighbouring

easel。　After　this　he　seemed　to　become　unconscious　of　his　surroundings；

as　unconscious；　indeed；　as　any　one　of　the　pictures　near　him。　Any　one

might　have　been　justified　in　mistaking　him　for　the　portrait　of　a　man；

but　that　his　lips　moved；　for　it　was　his　custom　to　read　softly　to

himself。



The　students　passed　back　to　their　places；　not　troubling　to　notice　him；

because　they　knew　from　experience　that　he　never　noticed　them；　and　that

all　greetings　were　wasted　on　him　and　all　words　were　wanton　expenditure

of　breath。　They　had　come　to　regard　him　very　much　in　the　same　way　as

many　of　us　regard　the　wonders　of　nature；　without　astonishment；　without

any　questionings；　and　often　without　any　interest。　One　girl；　a　new…

comer；　did　chance　to　say　to　her　companion：



〃How　ill　that　old　man　looks！〃



〃Oh；　he　always　looks　like　that；〃　was　the　answer。　〃You　will　soon　get

accustomed　to　him。　Come　along！　I　must　finish　my　'Blind　Beggar'　this

afternoon。〃



In　a　few　minutes　most　of　the　workers　were　busy　again；　although　there

were　some　who　continued　to　chat　quietly；　and　several　young　men　who

seemed　reluctant　to　leave　their　girl　friends；　and　who　were　by　no　means

encouraged　to　go！　One　young　man　came　to　claim　his　book　and　pipe；　which

he　had　left　in　the　charge　of　a　bright…eyed　girl；　who　was　copying　Sir

Joshua's　〃Angels。〃　She　gave　him　his　treasures；　and　received　in

exchange　a　dark…red　rose；　which　she　fastened　in　her　belt；　and　then　he

returned　to　his　portrait　of　Mrs。　Siddons。　But　there　was　something　in

his　disconsolate　manner　which　made　one　suspect　that　he　thought　less　of

Mrs。　Siddons's　beauty　than　of　the　beauty　of　the　girl　who　was　wearing

the　dark…red　rose！　The　strangers；　strolling　through　the　rooms；　stopped

now　and　again　to　peer　curiously　at　the　students'　work。　They　were

stared　at　indignantly　by　the　students　themselves；　but　they　made　no

attempt　to　move　away；　and　even　ventured　sometimes　to　pass　criticisms

of　no　tender　character　on　some　of　the　copies。　The　fierce…looking　man

who　was　copying　〃The　Horse　Fair〃　deliberately　put　down　his　brushes；

folded　his　arms；　and　waited　defiantly　until　they　had　gone　by；　but

others；　wiser　in　their　generation；　went　on　painting　calmly。　Several

workers　were　painting　the　new　Raphael；　one　of　them　was　a　white…haired

old　gentlewoman；　whose　hand　was　trembling；　and　yet　skilful　still。　More

than　once　she　turned　to　give　a　few　hints　to　the　young　girl　near　her；

who　looked　in　some　distress　and　doubt。　Just　the　needful　help　was

given；　and　then　the　girl　plied　her　brush　merrily；　smiling　the　while

with　pleasure　and　gratitude。　There　seemed　to　be　a　genial；　kindly

influence　at　work；　a　certain　homeliness　too；　which　must　needs　assert

itself　where　many　are　gathered　together；　working　side　by　side。　All

made　a　harmony；　the　wonderful　pictures；　collected　from　many　lands　and

many　centuries；　each　with　its　meaning　and　its　message　from　the　past；

the　ever…present　memories　of　the　painters　themselves；　who　had　worked

and　striven　and　conquered；　and　the　living　human　beings；　each　with　his

wealth　of　earnest　endeavour　and　hope。



Meanwhile　the　old　man　read　on　uninterruptedly　until　two　hands　were　put

over　his　book　and　a　gentle　voice　said：



〃Mr。　Lindall；　you　have　had　no　lunch　again。　Do　you　know；　I　begin　to

hate　Lucretius。　He　always　makes　you　forget　your　food。〃



The　old　man　looked　up；　and　something　like　a　smile　passed　over　his

joyless　face　when　he　saw　Helen　Stanley　bending　over　him。



〃Ah；〃　he　answered；　〃you　must　not　hate　Lucretius。　I　have　had　more

pleasant　hours　with　him　than　with　any　living　person。〃



He　rose　and　came　forward　to　examine　her　copy　of　Andrea　del　Sarto's

portrait。



〃Yours　is　better　than　mine；〃　he　said；　critically；　〃in　fact；　mine　is　a

failure。　I　think　I　shall　only　get　a　small　price　for　mine；　indeed；　I

doubt　whether　I　shall　get　sufficient　to　pay　for　my　funeral。〃



〃You　speak　dismally；〃　she　answered；　smiling。



〃I　missed　you　yesterday；〃　he　continued；　half　dreamily。　〃I　left　my

work；　and　I　wandered　through　the　rooms；　and　I　did　not　even　read

Lucretius。　Something　seemed　to　have　gone　from　my　life。　At　first　I

thought　it　must　be　my　favourite　Raphael；　or　the　Murillo；　but　it　was

neither　the　one　nor　the　other；　it　was　you。　That　was　strange；　wasn't

it？　But　you　know　we　get　accustomed　to　anything；　and　perhaps　I　should

have　missed　you　less　the　second　day；　and　by　the　end　of　a　week　I　should

not　have　missed　you　at　all。　Mercifully；　we　have　in　us　the　power　of

forgetting。〃



〃I　do　not　wish　to　plead　for　myself；〃　she　said；　〃but　I　do　not　believe

that　you　or　any　one　could　really　forget。　That　which　outsiders　call

forgetfulness　might　be　called　by　the　better　name　of　resignation。〃



〃I　don't　care　about　talking　any　more　now；〃　he　said；　suddenly；　and　he

went　to　his　easel　and　worked　silently　at　his　picture；　and　Helen

Stanley　glanced　at　him；　and　thought　she　had　never　seen　her　old

companion　look　so　forlorn　and　desolate　as　he　did　to…day。　He　looked　as

if　no　gentle　hand　had　ever　been　placed　on　him　in　kindliness　and

affection；　and　that　seemed　to　her　a　terrible　thing；　for　she　was　one　of

those　prehistorically　minded　persons　who　persist　in　believing　that

affection　is　as　needful　to　human　life　as　rain　to　flower　life。　When

first　she　came　to　work　at　the　gallerysome　twelve　months　agoshe　had

noticed　this　old　man；　and　had　wished　for　his　companionship；　she　was

herself　lonely　and　sorrowful；　and；　although　young；　had　to　fight　her

own　battles；　and　had　learned　something　of　the　difficulties　of

fighting；　and　this　had　given　her　an　experience　beyond　her　years。　She

was　not　more　than　twenty…four　years　of　age；　but　she　looked　rather

older；　and；　though　she　had　beautiful　eyes；　full　of　meaning　and

kindness；　her　features　were　decidedly　plain　as　well　as　unattractive。

There　were　some　in　the　gallery　who　said　among　themselves　that；　as　Mr。

Lindall　had　waited　so　many　years　before　talking　to　any　one；　he　might

have　chosen　some　one　better　worth　the　waiting　for！　But　they　soon

became　accustomed　to　seeing　Helen　Stanley　and　Mr。　Lindall　together；

and　they　laughed　less　than　before；　and　meanwhile　the　acquaintance

ripened　into　a　sort　of　friendship；　half　sulky　on　his　part　and　wholly

kind　on　her　part。　He　told　her　nothing　about　himself；　and　he　asked

nothing　about　herself；　for　weeks　he　never　even　knew　her　name。

Sometimes　he　did　not　speak　at　all；　a