some short stories-第6部分

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smiled　Mrs。　Monarch。

〃We　might　have　brought　some；　my　dear；〃　her　husband　remarked。

〃I'm　not　sure　we　have　any　left。　　We've　given　quantities　away；〃　she
explained　to　me。

〃With　our　autographs　and　that　sort　of　thing；〃　said　the　Major。

〃Are　they　to　be　got　in　the　shops？〃　I　inquired　as　a　harmless
pleasantry。

〃Oh　yes；　HERSthey　used　to　be。〃

〃Not　now；〃　said　Mrs。　Monarch　with　her　eyes　on　the　floor。



CHAPTER　II



I　could　fancy　the　〃sort　of　thing〃　they　put　on　the　presentation
copies　of　their　photographs；　and　I　was　sure　they　wrote　a　beautiful
hand。　　It　was　odd　how　quickly　I　was　sure　of　everything　that
concerned　them。　　If　they　were　now　so　poor　as　to　have　to　cam
shillings　and　pence　they　could　never　have　had　much　of　a　margin。
Their　good　looks　had　been　their　capital；　and　they　had　good…
humouredly　made　the　most　of　the　career　that　this　resource　marked
out　for　them。　　It　was　in　their　faces；　the　blankness；　the　deep
intellectual　repose　of　the　twenty　years　of　country…house　visiting
that　had　given　them　pleasant　intonations。　　I　could　see　the　sunny
drawing…rooms；　sprinkled　with　periodicals　she　didn't　read；　in　which
Mrs。　Monarch　had　continuously　sat；　I　could　see　the　wet　shrubberies
in　which　she　had　walked；　equipped　to　admiration　for　either
exercise。　　I　could　see　the　rich　covers　the　Major　had　helped　to
shoot　and　the　wonderful　garments　in　which；　late　at　night；　he
repaired　to　the　smoking…room　to　talk　about　them。　　I　could　imagine
their　leggings　and　waterproofs；　their　knowing　tweeds　and　rugs；
their　rolls　of　sticks　and　cases　of　tackle　and　neat　umbrellas；　and　I
could　evoke　the　exact　appearance　of　their　servants　and　the　compact
variety　of　their　luggage　on　the　platforms　of　country　stations。

They　gave　small　tips；　but　they　were　liked；　they　didn't　do　anything
themselves；　but　they　were　welcome。　　They　looked　so　well　everywhere；
they　gratified　the　general　relish　for　stature；　complexion　and
〃form。〃　　They　knew　it　without　fatuity　or　vulgarity；　and　they
respected　themselves　in　consequence。　　They　weren't　superficial：
they　were　thorough　and　kept　themselves　upit　had　been　their　line。
People　with　such　a　taste　for　activity　had　to　have　some　line。　　I
could　feel　how　even　in　a　dull　house　they　could　have　been　counted　on
for　the　joy　of　life。　　At　present　something　had　happenedit　didn't
matter　what；　their　little　income　had　grown　less；　it　had　grown
leastand　they　had　to　do　something　for　pocket…money。　　Their
friends　could　like　them；　I　made　out；　without　liking　to　support
them。　　There　was　something　about　them　that　represented　credit
their　clothes；　their　manners；　their　type；　but　if　credit　is　a　large
empty　pocket　in　which　an　occasional　chink　reverberates；　the　chink
at　least　must　be　audible。　　What　they　wanted　of　me　was　help　to　make
it　so。　　Fortunately　they　had　no　childrenI　soon　divined　that。
They　would　also　perhaps　wish　our　relations　to　be　kept　secret：　　this
was　why　it　was　〃for　the　figure〃the　reproduction　of　the　face　would
betray　them。

I　liked　themI　felt；　quite　as　their　friends　must　have　donethey
were　so　simple；　and　I　had　no　objection　to　them　if　they　would　suit。
But　somehow　with　all　their　perfections　I　didn't　easily　believe　in
them。　　After　all　they　were　amateurs；　and　the　ruling　passion　of　my
life　wasthe　detestation　of　the　amateur。　　Combined　with　this　was
another　perversityan　innate　preference　for　the　represented
subject　over　the　real　one：　　the　defect　of　the　real　one　was　so　apt
to　be　a　lack　of　representation。　　I　liked　things　that　appeared；　then
one　was　sure。　　Whether　they　WERE　or　not　was　a　subordinate　and
almost　always　a　profitless　question。　　There　were　other
considerations；　the　first　of　which　was　that　I　already　had　two　or
three　recruits　in　use；　notably　a　young　person　with　big　feet；　in
alpaca；　from　Kilburn；　who　for　a　couple　of　years　had　come　to　me
regularly　for　my　illustrations　and　with　whom　I　was　stillperhaps
ignoblysatisfied。　　I　frankly　explained　to　my　visitors　how　the
case　stood；　but　they　had　taken　more　precautions　than　I　supposed。
They　had　reasoned　out　their　opportunity；　for　Claude　Rivet　had　told
them　of　the　projected　edition　de　luxe　of　one　of　the　writers　of　our
daythe　rarest　of　the　novelistswho；　long　neglected　by　the
multitudinous　vulgar；　and　dearly　prized　by　the　attentive　（need　I
mention　Philip　Vincent？）　had　had　the　happy　fortune　of　seeing；　late
in　life；　the　dawn　and　then　the　full　light　of　a　higher　criticism；　an
estimate　in　which　on　the　part　of　the　public　there　was　something
really　of　expiation。　　The　edition　preparing；　planned　by　a　publisher
of　taste；　was　practically　an　act　of　high　reparation；　the　woodcuts
with　which　it　was　to　be　enriched　were　the　homage　of　English　art　to
one　of　the　most　independent　representatives　of　English　letters。
Major　and　Mrs。　Monarch　confessed　to　me　they　had　hoped　I　might　be
able　to　work　THEM　into　my　branch　of　the　enterprise。　　They　knew　I
was　to　do　the　first　of　the　books；　Rutland　Ramsay；　but　I　had　to　make
clear　to　them　that　my　participation　in　the　rest　of　the　affairthis
first　book　was　to　be　a　testmust　depend　on　the　satisfaction　I
should　give。　　If　this　should　be　limited　my　employers　would　drop　me
with　scarce　common　forms。　　It　was　therefore　a　crisis　for　me；　and
naturally　I　was　making　special　preparations；　looking　about　for　new
people；　should　they　be　necessary；　and　securing　the　best　types。　　I
admitted　however　that　I　should　like　to　settle　down　to　two　or　three
good　models　who　would　do　for　everything。

〃Should　we　have　often　toaput　on　special　clothes？〃　Mrs。　Monarch
timidly　demanded。

〃Dear　yesthat's　half　the　business。〃

〃And　should　we　be　expected　to　supply　our　own　costumes？

〃Oh　no；　I've　got　a　lot　of　things。　　A　painter's　models　put　onor
put　offanything　he　likes。〃

〃And　you　meanathe　same？〃

〃The　same？〃

Mrs。　Monarch　looked　at　her　husband　again。

〃Oh　she　was　just　wondering；〃　he　explained；　〃if　the　costumes　are　in
GENERAL　use。〃　　I　had　to　confess　that　they　were；　and　I　mentioned
further　that　some　of　themI　had　a　lot　of；　genuine　greasy　last…
century　thingshad　served　their　time；　a　hundred　years　ago；　on
living　world…stained　men　and　women；　on　figures　not　perhaps　so　far
removed；　in　that　vanished　world；　from　THEIR　type；　the　Monarchs'；
quoi！　of　a　breeched　and　bewigged　age。　　〃We'll　put；　on　anything　that
FITS；〃　said　the　Major。

〃Oh　I　arrange　thatthey　fit　in　the　pictures。〃

〃I'm　afraid　I　should　do　better　for　the　modern　books。　　I'd　come　as
you　like；〃　said　Mrs。　Monarch。

〃She　has　got　a　lot　of　clothes　at　home：　　they　might　do　for
contemporary　life；〃　her　husband　continued。

〃Oh　I　can　fancy　scenes　in　which　you'd　be　quite　natural。〃　　And
indeed　I　could　see　the　slipshod　re…arrangements　of　stale
propertiesthe　stories　I　tried　to　produce　pictures　for　without　the
exasperation　of　reading　themwhose　sandy　tracts　the　good　lady
might　help　to　people。　　But　I　had　to　return　to　the　fact　thatfor
this　sort　of　workthe　daily　mechanical　grindI　was　already
equipped：　　the　people　I　was　working　with　wore　fully　adequate。

〃We　only　thought　we　might　be　more　like　SOME　characters；〃　said　Mrs。
Monarch　mildly；　getting　up。

Her　husband　also　rose；　he　stood　looking　at　me　with　a　dim
wistfulness　that　was　touching　in　so　fine　a　man。　　〃Wouldn't　it　be
rather　a　pull　sometimes　to　haveato　haven？〃　　He　hung　fire；　he
wanted　me　to　help　him　by　phrasing　what　he　meant。　　But　I　couldn'tI
didn't　know。　　So　he　brought　it　out　awkwardly：　　〃The　REAL　thing；　a
gentleman；　you　know；　or　a　lady。〃　　I　was　quite　ready　to　give　a
general　assentI　admitted　that　there　was　a　great　deal　in　that。
This　encouraged　Major　Monarch　to　say；　following　up　his　appeal　with
an　unacted　gulp：　　〃It's　awfully　hardwe've　tried　everything。〃　　The
gulp　was　communicative；　it　proved　too　much　for　his　wife。　　Before　I
knew　it　Mrs。　Monarch　had　dropped　again　upon　a　divan　and　burst　into
tears。　　Her　husband　sat　down　beside　her；　holding　one　of　her　hands；
whereupon　she　quickly　dried　her　eyes　with　the　other；　while　I　felt
embarrassed　as　she　looked　up　at　me。　　〃There　isn't　a　confounded　job
I　haven't　applied　forwaited　forprayed　for。　　You　can　fancy　we'd
be　pretty　bad　first。　　Secretaryships　and　that　sort　of　thing？　　You
might　as　well　ask　for　a　peerage。　　I'd　be　ANYTHINGI'm　strong；　a
messenger　or　a　coalheaver。　　I'd　put　on　a　gold…laced　cap　and　open
carriage…doors　in　front　of　the　haberdasher's；　I'd　hang　about　a
station　to　carry　portmanteaux；　I'd　be　a　postman。　　But　they　won't
LOOK　at　you；　there　are　thousands　as　good　as　yourself　already　on　the
ground。　　GENTLEMEN；　poor　beggars；　who've　drunk　their　wine；　who've
kept　their　hunters！〃

I　was　as　reassuring　as　I　knew　how　to　be；　and　my　visitors　were
presently　on　their　feet　again　while；　for　the　experiment；　we　agreed
on　an　hour。　　We　were　discussing　it　when　the　door　opened　and　Miss
Churm　came　in　with　a　wet　umbrella。　　Miss　Churm　had　to　take　the
omnibus　to　Maida　Vale　and　then　walk　half　a　mile。　　She　looked　a
trifle　blowsy　and　slightly　splashed。　　I　scarcely　ever　saw　her　come
in　without　thinking　afresh　how　odd　it　was　that；　being　so　little　in
herself；　she　should　yet　be　so　much　in　others。　　She　was　a　meagre
little　Miss　Churm；　but　was　such　an　ample　heroine　of　romance。　　She
was　only　a　freckled　cockney；　but　she　could　represent　everything；
from　a　fine　lady　to　a　shepherdess；　she　had　the　faculty　as　she　might
have　had　a　fine　voice　or　long　hair。　　She　couldn't　spell　and　she
loved　beer；　but　she　had　two　or　three　〃points；〃　and　practice；　and　a
knack；　and　mother…wit；　and　a　whimsical　sensibility；　and　a　love　of
the　theatre；　and　seven　sisters；and　not　an　ounce　of　respect；
especially　for　the　H。　　The　first　thing　my　visitors　saw　was　that　her
umbrella　was　wet；　and　in　their　spotless　perfection　they　visibly
winced　at　it。　　The　rain　had　come　on　since　their　arrival。

〃I'm　all　in　a　soak；　there　WAS　a　mess　of　people　in　the　'bus。　　I　wish
you　lived　near　a　stytion；〃　said　Miss　Churm。　　I　requested　her　to　get
ready　as　quickly　as　possible；　and　she　passed　into　the　room　in　which
she　always　changed　her　dress。　　But　before　going　out　she　asked　me
what　she　was　to　get　into　this　time。

〃It's　the　Russian　princess；　don't　you　know？〃　I　answered；　〃the　one
with　the　'golden　eyes；'　in　black　velvet；　for　the　long　thing　in　the
Cheapside。〃

〃Golden　eyes？　　I　SAY！〃　cried　Miss　Churm；　while　my　companions
watched　her　with　intensity　as　she　withdrew。　　She　alwa