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villa rubein and other stories-第4章

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known firm of Forsyte and Treffry; teamen; of the Strand; Constance;

married to a man called Decie; and Margaret; at her father's death

engaged to the curate of the parish; John Devorell; who shortly

afterwards became its rector。  By his marriage with Margaret Treffry

the rector had one child called Christian。  Soon after this he came

into some property; and died; leaving it unfettered to his widow。

Three years went by; and when the child was six years old; Mrs。

Devorell; still young and pretty; came to live in London with her

brother Nicholas。  It was there that she met Paul von Morawitzthe

last of an old Czech family; who had lived for many hundred years on

their estates near Budweiss。  Paul had been left an orphan at the age

of ten; and without a solitary ancestral acre。  Instead of acres; he

inherited the faith that nothing was too good for a von Morawitz。  In

later years his savoir faire enabled him to laugh at faith; but it

stayed quietly with him all the same。  The absence of acres was of no

great consequence; for through his mother; the daughter of a banker

in Vienna; he came into a well…nursed fortune。  It befitted a von

Morawitz that he should go into the Cavalry; but; unshaped for

soldiering; he soon left the Service; some said he had a difference

with his Colonel over the quality of food provided during some

manoeuvres; others that he had retired because his chargers did not

fit his legs; which were; indeed; rather round。



He had an admirable appetite for pleasure; a man…about…town's life

suited him。  He went his genial; unreflecting; costly way in Vienna;

Paris; London。  He loved exclusively those towns; and boasted that he

was as much at home in one as in another。  He combined exuberant

vitality with fastidiousness of palate; and devoted both to the

acquisition of a special taste in women; weeds; and wines; above all

he was blessed with a remarkable digestion。  He was thirty when he

met Mrs。 Devorell; and she married him because he was so very

different from anybody she had ever seen。  People more dissimilar

were never mated。  To Paulaccustomed to stage doorsfreshness;

serene tranquillity; and obvious purity were the baits; he had run

through more than half his fortune; too; and the fact that she had

money was possibly not overlooked。  Be that as it may; he was fond of

her; his heart was soft; he developed a domestic side。



Greta was born to them after a year of marriage。  The instinct of the

〃freeman〃 was; however; not dead in Paul; he became a gambler。  He

lost the remainder of his fortune without being greatly disturbed。

When he began to lose his wife's fortune too things naturally became

more difficult。  Not too much remained when Nicholas Treffry stepped

in; and caused his sister to settle what was left on her daughters;

after providing a life…interest for herself and Paul。  Losing his

supplies; the good man had given up his cards。  But the instinct of

the 〃freeman〃 was still living in his breast; he took to drink。  He

was never grossly drunk; and rarely very sober。  His wife sorrowed

over this new passion; her health; already much enfeebled; soon broke

down。  The doctors sent her to the Tyrol。  She seemed to benefit by

this; and settled down at Botzen。  The following year; when Greta was

just ten; she died。  It was a shock to Paul。  He gave up excessive

drinking; became a constant smoker; and lent full rein to his natural

domesticity。  He was fond of both the girls; but did not at all

understand them; Greta; his own daughter; was his favourite。  Villa

Rubein remained their home; it was cheap and roomy。  Money; since

Paul became housekeeper to himself; was scarce。



About this time Mrs。 Decie; his wife's sister; whose husband had died

in the East; returned to England; Paul invited her to come and live

with them。  She had her own rooms; her own servant; the arrangement

suited Paulit was economically sound; and there was some one always

there to take care of the girls。  In truth he began to feel the

instinct of the 〃freeman〃 rising again within him; it was pleasant to

run over to Vienna now and then; to play piquet at a Club in Gries;

of which he was the shining light; in a word; to go 〃on the tiles〃 a

little。  One could not always mourneven if a woman were an angel;

moreover; his digestion was as good as ever。



The fourth quarter of this Villa was occupied by Nicholas Treffry;

whose annual sojourn out of England perpetually surprised himself。

Between him and his young niece; Christian; there existed; however; a

rare sympathy; one of those affections between the young and old;

which; mysteriously born like everything in life; seems the only end

and aim to both; till another feeling comes into the younger heart。



Since a long and dangerous illness; he had been ordered to avoid the

English winter; and at the commencement of each spring he would

appear at Botzen; driving his own horses by easy stages from the

Italian Riviera; where he spent the coldest months。  He always stayed

till June before going back to his London Club; and during all that

time he let no day pass without growling at foreigners; their habits;

food; drink; and raiment; with a kind of big dog's growling that did

nobody any harm。  The illness had broken him very much; he was

seventy; but looked more。  He had a servant; a Luganese; named

Dominique; devoted to him。  Nicholas Treffry had found him overworked

in an hotel; and had engaged him with the caution: 〃Lookhere;

Dominique! I swear!〃  To which Dominique; dark of feature; saturnine

and ironical; had only replied: 〃Tres biens; M'sieur!〃









III



Harz and his host sat in leather chairs; Herr Paul's square back was

wedged into a cushion; his round legs crossed。  Both were smoking;

and they eyed each other furtively; as men of different stamp do when

first thrown together。  The young artist found his host extremely new

and disconcerting; in his presence he felt both shy and awkward。

Herr Paul; on the other hand; very much at ease; was thinking

indolently:



'Good…looking young fellowcomes of the people; I expect; not at all

the manner of the world; wonder what he talks about。'



Presently noticing that Harz was looking at a photograph; he said:

〃Ah! yes! that was a woman!  They are not to be found in these days。

She could dance; the little Coralie!  Did you ever see such arms?

Confess that she is beautiful; hein?〃



〃She has individuality;〃 said Harz。  〃A fine type!〃



Herr Paul blew out a cloud of smoke。



〃Yes;〃 he murmured; 〃she was fine all over!〃  He had dropped his

eyeglasses; and his full brown eyes; with little crow's…feet at the

corners; wandered from his visitor to his cigar。



'He'd be like a Satyr if he wasn't too clean;' thought Harz。  'Put

vine leaves in his hair; paint him asleep; with his hands crossed;

so!'



〃When I am told a person has individuality;〃 Herr Paul was saying in

a rich and husky voice; 〃I generally expect boots that bulge; an

umbrella of improper colour; I expect a creature of 'bad form' as

they say in England; who will shave some days and some days will not

shave; who sometimes smells of India…rubber; and sometimes does not

smell; which is discouraging!〃



〃You do not approve of individuality?〃 said Harz shortly。



〃Not if it means doing; and thinking; as those who know better do not

do; or think。〃



〃And who are those who know better?〃



〃Ah! my dear; you are asking me a riddle?  Well; thenSociety; men

of birth; men of recognised position; men above eccentricity; in a

word; of reputation。〃



Harz looked at him fixedly。  〃Men who haven't the courage of their

own ideas; not even the courage to smell of India…rubber; men who

have no desires; and so can spend all their time making themselves

flat!〃



Herr Paul drew out a red silk handkerchief and wiped his beard。  〃I

assure you; my dear;〃 he said; 〃it is easier to be flat; it is more

respectable to be flat。  Himmel! why not; then; be flat?〃



〃Like any common fellow?〃



〃Certes; like any common fellowlike me; par exemple!〃  Herr Paul

waved his hand。  When he exercised unusual tact; he always made use

of a French expression。



Harz flushed。  Herr Paul followed up his victory。  〃Come; come!〃 he

said。  〃Pass me my men of repute! que diable! we are not anarchists。〃



〃Are you sure?〃 said Harz。



Herr Paul twisted his moustache。  〃I beg your pardon;〃 he said

slowly。  But at this moment the door was opened; a rumbling voice

remarked: 〃Morning; Paul。  Who's your visitor?〃  Harz saw a tall;

bulky figure in the doorway。



〃Come in;〃' called out Herr Paul。  〃Let me present to you a new

acquaintance; an artist: Herr HarzMr。 Nicholas Treffry。  Psumm

bumm! All this introducing is dry work。〃  And going to the sideboard

he poured out three glasses of a light; foaming beer。



Mr。 Treffry waved it from him: 〃Not for me;〃 he said: 〃Wish I could!

They won't let
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