The Plastic Age, Percy Marks [top 10 books of all time TXT] 📗

Wet Ones; You Never Come To Fraternity

Meetings If You Can Help It; You Aren't Half Training Down At The Track;

And Now You Give The Dramat The Air Just As If An Activity Or Two Wasn't

Anything In Your Young Life."

 

"The Dramat Isn't Anything To Me," Hugh Replied,  Trying To Keep His

Temper. Tucker's Arrogance Always Made Him Angry. "I Can't Act Worth A

Damn. Never Could. I Tried Once In A Play At Home And Made A Poor Fish

Of Myself,  And You Can Bet Your Bottom Dollar That I'm Not Going To

Again."

 

"Bunk!" Tucker Ejaculated Contemptuously. "Hooey! Anybody Can Act Good

Enough For The Dramat. I Tell You Right Now That You're Turning The

Fraternity Down; You're Playing Us Dirt. What Have You Done In College?

Not A Goddamn Thing Except Make The Glee Club. I Don't Care About Track.

I Suppose You Did Your Best Last Year,  Though I Know Damn Well That You

Aren't Doing It This Year. What Would Become Of The Fraternity If All Of

Us Parked Ourselves On Our Tails And Gave The Activities The Air The Way

You Do? You're Throwing Us Down,  And We Don't Like It."

 

"Well,  I'm Not Going Out For The Dramat," Hugh Mumbled Sullenly; "You

Can Just Bet On That. I'll Admit That I Haven't Trained The Way I Ought

To,  But I Have Made The Glee Club,  And I Have Promised To Join The Banjo

Club,  And I Am Still On The Track Squad,  And That's Lines Hang Loose; The Steeds Unreined

    Dart Forward With A Will.

  Their Ears Are Pricked; Their Necks Are Strained;

    Their Plumes Lie Straight And Still.

  They Leave The Rising Dust Behind;

  They Seem To Float Upon The Wind.

 

_King_ (_Joyfully_). See! The Horses Are Gaining On The Deer.

 

  As Onward And Onward The Chariot Flies,

  The Small Flashes Large To My Dizzy Eyes.

  What Is Cleft In Twain,  Seems To Blur And Mate;

  What Is Crooked In Nature,  Seems To Be Straight.

  Things At My Side In An Instant Appear

  Distant,  And Things In The Distance,  Near.

 

_A Voice Behind The Scenes_. O King,  This Deer Belongs To The

Hermitage,  And Must Not Be Killed.

 

_Charioteer_ (_Listening And Looking_). Your Majesty,  Here Are Two

Hermits,  Come To Save The Deer At The Moment When Your Arrow Was About

To Fall.

 

_King_ (_Hastily_). Stop The Chariot.

 

_Charioteer_. Yes,  Your Majesty. (_He Does So. Enter A Hermit With His

Pupil_.)

 

_Hermit_ (_Lifting His Hand_). O King,  This Deer Belongs To The

Hermitage.

 

  Why Should His Tender Form Expire,

  As Blossoms Perish In The Fire?

  How Could That Gentle Life Endure

  The Deadly Arrow,  Sharp And Sure?

 

  Restore Your Arrow To The Quiver;

    To You Were Weapons Lent

  The Broken-Hearted To Deliver,

    Not Strike The Innocent.

 

_King_ (_Bowing Low_). It Is Done. (_He Does So_.)

 

_Hermit_ (_Joyfully_). A Deed Worthy Of You,  Scion Of Puru's Race,  And

Shining Example Of Kings. May You Beget A Son To Rule Earth And

Heaven.

 

_King_ (_Bowing Low_). I Am Thankful For A Brahman's Blessing.

 

_The Two Hermits_. O King,  We Are On Our Way To Gather Firewood. Here,

Along The Bank Of The Malini,  You May See The Hermitage Of Father

Kanva,  Over Which Shakuntala Presides,  So To Speak,  As Guardian Deity.

Unless Other Deities Prevent,  Pray Enter Here And Receive A Welcome.

Besides,

 

  Beholding Pious Hermit-Rites

    Preserved From Fearful Harm,

  Perceive The Profit Of The Scars

    On Your Protecting Arm.

 

_King_. Is The Hermit Father There?

 

_The Two Hermits_. No,  He Has Left His Daughter To Welcome Guests,  And

Has Just Gone To Somatirtha,  To Avert An Evil Fate That Threatens Her.

 

_King_. Well,  I Will See Her. She Shall Feel My Devotion,  And Report

It To The Sage.

 

_The Two Hermits_. Then We Will Go On Our Way. (_Exit Hermit With

Pupil_.)

 

_King_. Charioteer,  Drive On. A Sight Of The Pious Hermitage Will

Purify Us.

 

_Charioteer_. Yes,  Your Majesty. (_He Counterfeits Motion Again_.)

 

_King_ (_Looking About_). One Would Know,  Without Being Told,  That

This Is The Precinct Of A Pious Grove.

 

_Charioteer_. How So? _King_. Do You Not See? Why,  Here

 

  Are Rice-Grains,  Dropped From Bills Of Parrot Chicks

  Beneath The Trees; And Pounding-Stones Where Sticks

  A Little Almond-Oil; And Trustful Deer

  That Do Not Run Away As We Draw Near;

  And River-Paths That Are Besprinkled Yet

  From Trickling Hermit-Garments,  Clean And Wet.

 

Besides,

 

  The Roots Of Trees Are Washed By Many A Stream

  That Breezes Ruffle; And The Flowers' Red Gleam

  Is Dimmed By Pious Smoke; And Fearless Fawns

  Move Softly On The Close-Cropped Forest Lawns.

 

_Charioteer_. It Is All True.

 

_King_ (_After A Little_). We Must Not Disturb The Hermitage. Stop

Here While I Dismount.

 

_Charioteer_. I Am Holding The Reins. Dismount,  Your Majesty.

 

_King_ (_Dismounts And Looks At Himself_). One Should Wear Modest

Garments On Entering A Hermitage. Take These Jewels And The Bow. (_He

Gives Them To The Charioteer_.) Before I Return From My Visit To The

Hermits,  Have The Horses' Backs Wet Down.

 

_Charioteer_. Yes,  Your Majesty. (_Exit_.)

 

_King_ (_Walking And Looking About_). The Hermitage! Well,  I Will

Enter. (_As He Does So,  He Feels A Throbbing In His Arm_.)

 

  A Tranquil Spot! Why Should I Thrill?

    Love Cannot Enter There--

  Yet To Inevitable Things

    Doors Open Everywhere.

 

_A Voice Behind The Scenes_. This Way,  Girls!

 

_King_ (_Listening_). I Think I Hear Some One To The Right Of The

Grove. I Must Find Out. (_He Wals_. This Way,  Girls!

 

_King_ (_Listening_). Frequent The

Fraternity House Any More Than He Had Previously. More And More He

Realized That He Had "Gone With The Wrong Crowd," And More And More He

Thought Of What Graham Had Said To Him In His Freshman Year About How A

Man Was In Hell If He Joined The Wrong Fraternity. "I Was The Wise

Bird," He Told Himself Caustically; "I Was The Guy Who Knew All About

It. Graham Saw What Would Happen,  And I Didn't Have Sense Enough To

Take His Advice. Hell,  I Never Even Thought About What He Told Me. I

Knew That I Would Be In Heaven If Nu Delta Gave Me A Bid. Heaven! Well,

I'm Glad That They Were Too High-Hat For Norry Parker And That He Went

With The Right Bunch."

 

Norville Parker Was Hugh's Catholic Friend,  And The More He Saw Of The

Freshman The Better He Liked Him. Parker Had Received Several Bids From

Fraternities,  And He Followed The Advice Hugh Had Given Him. "If Delta

Sigma Delta Bids You,  Go There," Hugh Had Said Positively. "They're The

Bunch You Belong With. Apparently The Kappa Zetes Are Going To Bid You,

Too. You Go Delta Sig If You Get The Chance." Hugh Envied Parker The

Really Beautiful Fraternity Life He Was Leading. "Why In God's Name," He

Demanded Of Himself Regularly,  "Didn't I Have Sense Enough To Take

Graham's Advice?"

 

When Spring Came,  The Two Boys Took Long Walks Into The Country,  Both Of

Them Loving The New Beauty Of The Spring And Happy In Perfect

Companionship. Hugh Missed Carl Badly,  And He Wanted To Ask Parker To

Room With Him The Remainder Of The Term. He Felt,  However,  That The

Fraternity Would Object,  And He Wanted No Further Trouble With Nu Delta.

As A Matter Of Fact,  The Fraternity Would Have Said Nothing,  But Hugh

Had Become Hypersensitive And Expected His "Brothers" To Find Fault

With His Every Move. He Had No Intention Of Deserting Parker,  But He

Could Not Help Feeling That Rooming With Him Would Be A Gratuitous

Insult To The Fraternity.

 

Parker--Every One Called Him Norry--Was A Slender,  Delicate Lad With

Dreamy Gray Eyes And Silky Brown Hair That,  Unless He Brushed It Back

Severely,  Fell In Soft Curls On His Extraordinarily White Forehead.

Except For A Slightly Aquiline Nose And A Firm Jaw,  He Was Almost

Effeminate In Appearance,  His Mouth Was So Sensitive,  His Hands So White

And Slender,  His Manner So Gentle. He Had A Slow,  Winning Smile,  A

Quiet,  Low Voice. He Was A Dreamer And A Mystic,  A Youth Who Could See

Fairies Dancing In The Shadows; And He Told Hugh What He Saw.

 

"I See Things," He Said To Hugh One Moonlight Night As They Strolled

Through The Woods; "I See Things,  Lovely Little Creatures Flitting

Around Among The Trees: I Mean I See Them When I'm Alone. I Like To Lie

On My Back In The Meadows And Look At The Clouds And Imagine Myself

Sitting On A Big Fellow And Sailing And Sailing Away To Heaven. It's

Wonderful. I Feel That Way When I Play My Fiddle." He Played The Violin

Beautifully And Had Promptly Been Made Soloist For The Musical Clubs.

"I--I Can't Explain. Sometimes When I Finish Playing,  I Find My Eyes

Full Of Tears. I Feel As If I Had Been To Some Wonderful Place,  And I

Don't Want To Come Back."

 

"I Guess I'm Not Like Other Fellows. I Cry Over Poetry,  Not Because It

Makes Me Sad. It's Not That. It's Just So Beautiful. Why,  When I First

Read Shelley's 'Cloud' I Was Almost Sick I Was So Happy. I Could Hardly

Stand It. And When I Hear Beautiful Music I Cry,  Too. Why,  When I Listen

To Kreisler,  I Sometimes Want To Beg Him To Stop; It Hurts And Makes Me

So Happy That--That I Just Can't Stand It," He Finished Lamely.

 

"I Know," Hugh Said. "I Know How It Is. I Feel That Way Sometimes,  Too,

But Not As Much As You,  I Guess. I Don't Cry. I Never Really Cry,  But I

Want To Once In A While. I--I Write Poetry Sometimes," He Confessed

Awkwardly,  "But I Guess It's Not Very Good. Jimmie Henley Says It Isn't

So Bad For A Sophomore,  But I'm Afraid That He's Just Stringing Me

Along,  Trying To Encourage Me,  You Know. But There Are Times When I've

Said A Little Bit Right,  Just A Little Bit,  But I've Known That It Was

Right--And Then I Feel The Way You Do."

 

"I've Written Lots Of Poetry," Norry Said Simply,  "But It's No Good;

It's Never Any Good." He Paused Between Two Big Trees And Pointed

Upward. "Look,  Look Up There. See Those Black Branches And That Patch Of

Sky Between Them And Those Stars. I Want To Picture That--And I Can't;

And I Want To Picture The Trees The Way They Look Now So Fluffy With

Tiny New Leaves,  But I Miss It A Million Miles.... But I Can Get It In

Music," He Added More Brightly. "Grieg Says It. Music Is The Most

Wonderful Thing In The World. I Wish I Could Be A Great Violinist. I

Can't,  Though. I'm Not A Genius,  And I'm Not Strong Enough. I Can't

Practice Very Long."

 

They Continued Walking In Silence For A Few Minutes,  And Then Norry

Said: "I'm Awfully Happy Here At College,  And I Didn't Expect To Be,

Either. I Knew That I Was Kinda Different From Other Fellows,  Not So

Strong; And I Don't Like Ugly Things Or Smutty Stories Or Anything Like

That. I Think Women Are Lovely,  And I Hate To Hear Fellows Tell Dirty

Stories About Them. I'm No Fool,  Hugh; I Know About The Things That

Happen,  But I Don't Want To Hear About Them. Things That Are Dirty And

Ugly Make Me Feel Sick."

 

"Well,  I Was Afraid The Fellows Would Razz Me. But They Don't. They

Don't At All. The Fellows Over At The Delta Sig House Are Wonderful To

Me. They Don't Think I'm Wet. They Don't Razz Me For Not Going On Wild

Parties,  Though I Know That Some Of The Fellows Are Pretty Gay

Themselves. They Ask Me To Fiddle For Them Nearly Every Evening,  And

They Sit And Listen Very,  Very Quietly Just As Long As I'll Play. I'm

Glad You Told Me To Go Delta Sig."

 

Norry Made Hugh Feel Very Old And A Little Crude And Hard. He Realized

That There Was Something Rare,  Almost Exquisite,  About The Boy,  And That

He Lived Largely In A Beautiful World Of His Own Imagination. It Would

Have Surprised Norry If Any One Had Told Him That His Fraternity

Brothers Stood In Awe Of Him,  That They Thought He Was A Genius. Some Of

Them Were Built Out Of Pretty Common Clay,  But They Felt The Almost

Unearthly Purity Of The Boy They Had Made A Brother; And The Hardest Of

Them,  The Crudest,  Silently Elected Himself The Guardian Of That Purity.