within the tides-第12部分

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once　to　meet　the　half…caste　Luiz　hurrying　down　the　path。　　In　the



distance；　in　front　of　the　dazzlingly　sunlit　bungalow；　a　row　of



dark…faced　house…boys　unequal　in　stature　and　varied　in　complexion



preserved　the　immobility　of　a　guard　of　honour。







Luiz　had　taken　off　his　soft　felt　hat　before　coming　within　earshot。



Renouard　bent　his　head　to　his　rapid　talk　of　domestic　arrangements



he　meant　to　make　for　the　visitors；　another　bed　in　the　master's　room



for　the　ladies　and　a　cot　for　the　gentleman　to　be　hung　in　the　room



opposite　where　…　where　Mr。　Walter　…　here　he　gave　a　scared　look　all



round　…　Mr。　Walter　…　had　died。







〃Very　good；〃　assented　Renouard　in　an　even　undertone。　　〃And　remember



what　you　have　to　say　of　him。〃







〃Yes；　master。　　Only〃　…　he　wriggled　slightly　and　put　one　bare　foot



on　the　other　for　a　moment　in　apologetic　embarrassment　…　〃only　I　…　I



…　don't　like　to　say　it。〃







Renouard　looked　at　him　without　anger；　without　any　sort　of



expression。　　〃Frightened　of　the　dead？　　Eh？　　Well　…　all　right。　　I



will　say　it　myself　…　I　suppose　once　for　all。　。　。　Immediately　he



raised　his　voice　very　much。







〃Send　the　boys　down　to　bring　up　the　luggage。〃







〃Yes；　master。〃







Renouard　turned　to　his　distinguished　guests　who；　like　a　personally



conducted　party　of　tourists；　had　stopped　and　were　looking　about



them。







〃I　am　sorry；〃　he　began　with　an　impassive　face。　　〃My　man　has　just



told　me　that　Mr。　Walter　。　。　。〃　he　managed　to　smile；　but　didn't



correct　himself　。　。　。　〃has　gone　in　a　trading　schooner　on　a　short



tour　of　the　islands；　to　the　westward。〃







This　communication　was　received　in　profound　silence。







Renouard　forgot　himself　in　the　thought：　　〃It's　done！〃　　But　the



sight　of　the　string　of　boys　marching　up　to　the　house　with　suit…



cases　and　dressing…bags　rescued　him　from　that　appalling



abstraction。







〃All　I　can　do　is　to　beg　you　to　make　yourselves　at　home　。　。　。　with



what　patience　you　may。〃







This　was　so　obviously　the　only　thing　to　do　that　everybody　moved　on



at　once。　　The　professor　walked　alongside　Renouard；　behind　the　two



ladies。







〃Rather　unexpected　…　this　absence。〃







〃Not　exactly；〃　muttered　Renouard。　　〃A　trip　has　to　be　made　every



year　to　engage　labour。〃







〃I　see　。　。　。　And　he　。　。　。　How　vexingly　elusive　the　poor　fellow　has



become！　　I'll　begin　to　think　that　some　wicked　fairy　is　favouring



this　love　tale　with　unpleasant　attentions。〃







Renouard　noticed　that　the　party　did　not　seem　weighed　down　by　this



new　disappointment。　　On　the　contrary　they　moved　with　a　freer　step。



The　professor's　sister　dropped　her　eye…glass　to　the　end　of　its



chain。　　Miss　Moorsom　took　the　lead。　　The　professor；　his　lips



unsealed；　lingered　in　the　open：　　but　Renouard　did　not　listen　to



that　man's　talk。　　He　looked　after　that　man's　daughter　…　if　indeed



that　creature　of　irresistible　seductions　were　a　daughter　of



mortals。　　The　very　intensity　of　his　desire；　as　if　his　soul　were



streaming　after　her　through　his　eyes；　defeated　his　object　of



keeping　hold　of　her　as　long　as　possible　with；　at　least；　one　of　his



senses。　　Her　moving　outlines　dissolved　into　a　misty　coloured



shimmer　of　a　woman　made　of　flame　and　shadows；　crossing　the



threshold　of　his　house。







The　days　which　followed　were　not　exactly　such　as　Renouard　had



feared　…　yet　they　were　not　better　than　his　fears。　　They　were



accursed　in　all　the　moods　they　brought　him。　　But　the　general　aspect



of　things　was　quiet。　　The　professor　smoked　innumerable　pipes　with



the　air　of　a　worker　on　his　holiday；　always　in　movement　and　looking



at　things　with　that　mysteriously　sagacious　aspect　of　men　who　are



admittedly　wiser　than　the　rest　of　the　world。　　His　white　head　of



hair　…　whiter　than　anything　within　the　horizon　except　the　broken



water　on　the　reefs　…　was　glimpsed　in　every　part　of　the　plantation



always　on　the　move　under　the　white　parasol。　　And　once　he　climbed



the　headland　and　appeared　suddenly　to　those　below；　a　white　speck



elevated　in　the　blue；　with　a　diminutive　but　statuesque　effect。







Felicia　Moorsom　remained　near　the　house。　　Sometimes　she　could　be



seen　with　a　despairing　expression　scribbling　rapidly　in　her　lock…up



dairy。　　But　only　for　a　moment。　　At　the　sound　of　Renouard's



footsteps　she　would　turn　towards　him　her　beautiful　face；　adorable



in　that　calm　which　was　like　a　wilful；　like　a　cruel　ignoring　of　her



tremendous　power。　　Whenever　she　sat　on　the　verandah；　on　a　chair



more　specially　reserved　for　her　use；　Renouard　would　stroll　up　and



sit　on　the　steps　near　her；　mostly　silent；　and　often　not　trusting



himself　to　turn　his　glance　on　her。　　She；　very　still　with　her　eyes



half…closed；　looked　down　on　his　head　…　so　that　to　a　beholder　（such



as　Professor　Moorsom；　for　instance）　she　would　appear　to　be　turning



over　in　her　mind　profound　thoughts　about　that　man　sitting　at　her



feet；　his　shoulders　bowed　a　little；　his　hands　listless　…　as　if



vanquished。　　And；　indeed；　the　moral　poison　of　falsehood　has　such　a



decomposing　power　that　Renouard　felt　his　old　personality　turn　to



dead　dust。　　Often；　in　the　evening；　when　they　sat　outside　conversing



languidly　in　the　dark；　he　felt　that　he　must　rest　his　forehead　on



her　feet　and　burst　into　tears。







The　professor's　sister　suffered　from　some　little　strain　caused　by



the　unstability　of　her　own　feelings　toward　Renouard。　　She　could　not



tell　whether　she　really　did　dislike　him　or　not。　　At　times　he



appeared　to　her　most　fascinating；　and；　though　he　generally　ended　by



saying　something　shockingly　crude；　she　could　not　resist　her



inclination　to　talk　with　him　…　at　least　not　always。　　One　day　when



her　niece　had　left　them　alone　on　the　verandah　she　leaned　forward　in



her　chair　…　speckless；　resplendent；　and；　in　her　way；　almost　as



striking　a　personality　as　her　niece；　who　did　not　resemble　her　in



the　least。　　〃Dear　Felicia　has　inherited　her　hair　and　the　greatest



part　of　her　appearance　from　her　mother；〃　the　maiden　lady　used　to



tell　people。







She　leaned　forward　then；　confidentially。







〃Oh！　　Mr。　Renouard！　　Haven't　you　something　comforting　to　say？〃







He　looked　up；　as　surprised　as　if　a　voice　from　heaven　had　spoken



with　this　perfect　society　intonation；　and　by　the　puzzled　profundity



of　his　blue　eyes　fluttered　the　wax…flower　of　refined　womanhood。



She　continued。　　〃For　…　I　can　speak　to　you　openly　on　this　tiresome



subject　…　only　think　what　a　terrible　strain　this　hope　deferred　must



be　for　Felicia's　heart　…　for　her　nerves。〃







〃Why　speak　to　me　about　it；〃　he　muttered　feeling　half　choked



suddenly。







〃Why！　　As　a　friend　…　a　well…wisher　…　the　kindest　of　hosts。　　I　am



afraid　we　are　really　eating　you　out　of　house　and　home。〃　　She



laughed　a　little。　　〃Ah！　　When；　when　will　this　suspense　be　relieved！



That　poor　lost　Arthur！　　I　confess　that　I　am　almost　afraid　of　the



great　moment。　　It　will　be　like　seeing　a　ghost。〃







〃Have　you　ever　seen　a　ghost？〃　asked　Renouard；　in　a　dull　voice。







She　shifted　her　hands　a　little。　　Her　pose　was　perfect　in　its　ease



and　middle…aged　grace。







〃Not　actually。　　Only　in　a　photograph。　　But　we　have　many　friends　who



had　the　experience　of　apparitions。〃







〃Ah！　　They　see　ghosts　in　London；〃　mumbled　Renouard；　not　looking　at



her。







〃Frequently　…　in　a　certain　very　interesting　set。　　But　all　sorts　of



people　do。　　We　have　a　friend；　a　very　famous　author　…　his　ghost　is　a



girl。　　One　of　my　brother's　intimates　is　a　very　great　man　of



science。　　He　is　friendly　with　a　ghost　。　。　。　Of　a　girl　too；〃　she



added　in　a　voice　as　if　struck　for　the　first　time　by　the



coincidence。　　〃It　is　the　photograph　of　that　apparition　which　I　have



seen。　　Very　sweet。　　Most　interesting。　　A　little　cloudy　naturally。　。



。　。　Mr。　Renouard！　　I　hope　you　are　not　a　sceptic。　　It's　so　consoling



to　think。　。　。〃







〃Those　plantation　boys　of　mine　see　ghosts　too；〃　said　Renouard



grimly。







The　sister　of　the　philosopher　sat　up　stiffly。　　What　crudeness！　　It



was　always　so　with　this　strange　young　man。







〃Mr。　Renouard！　　How　can　you　compare　the　superstitious　fancies　of



your　horrible　savages　with　the　manifestations　。　。　。　〃







Words　failed　her。　　She　broke　off　with　a　very　faint　primly　angry



smile。　　She　was　perhaps　the　more　offended　with　him　because　of　that



flutter　at　the　beginning　of　the　conversation。　　And　in　a　moment　with



perfect　tact　and　dignity　she　got　up　from　her　chair　and　left　him



alone。







Renouard　didn't　even　look　up。　　It　was　not　the　displeasure　of　the



lady　which　deprived　him　of　his　sleep　that　night。　　He　was　beginning



to　forget　what　simple；　honest　sleep　was　like。　　His　hammock　from　the



ship　had　been　hung　for　him　on　a　side　verandah；　and　he　spent　his



nights　in　it　on　his　back；　his　hands　folded　on　his　chest；　in　a　sort



of　half　conscious；　oppressed　stupor。　　In　the　morning　he　watched



with　unseeing　eyes　the　headland　come　out　a　shapeless　inkblot



against　the　thin　light　of　the　false　dawn；　pass　through　all　the



stages　of　daybreak　to　the　deep　purple　of　its　outlined　mass　nimbed



gloriously　with　the　gold　of　the　rising　sun。　　He　listened　to　the



vague　sounds　of　waking　within　the　house：　　and　suddenly　he　became



aware　of　Luiz　standing　by　the　hammock　…　obviously　troubled。







〃What's　the　matter？〃







〃Tse！　　Tse！　　Tse！〃







〃Well；　what　now？　　Trouble　with　the　boys？〃







〃No；　master。　　The　gentleman　when　I　take　him　his　bath　water　he　speak



to　me。　　He　ask　me　…　he　ask　…　when；　when；　I　think　Mr。　Walter；　he



come　back。〃







The　half…caste's　teeth　chattered　slightly。　　Renouard　got　out　of　the



hammock。







〃And　he　is　here　all　the　time　…　eh？〃







Luiz　nodded　a　scared　affirmative；　but　at　once　protested；　〃I　no　see



him。　　I　never。　　Not　I！　　The　ignorant　wild　boys　say　they　see　。　。　。



Something！　　Ough！〃