The Plastic Age, Percy Marks [top 10 books of all time TXT] 📗
- Author: Percy Marks
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Refreshed His Muscles, But His Spirit Remained Weary. For A Month He Had
Thought Of Nothing But That Race--Even Cynthia Had Become Strangely
Insignificant In Comparison With It--And Now That The Race Had Been Run
And Lost, His Whole Spirit Sagged And Drooped.
He Was Pounded On The Back; His Hand Was Grasped And Shaken Until It
Ached; He Was Cheered To An Echo By The Thrilled Sanford Men; But Still
His Depression Remained. He Had Won His Letter, He Had Run A Magnificent
Race, All Sanford Sang His Praise--Norry Parker Had Actually Cried With
Excitement And Delight--But He Felt That He Had Failed; He Had Not
Justified Himself.
A Few Days Later He Entered Henley's Office, Intending To Make Only A
Brief Visit. Henley Congratulated Him. "You Were Wonderful, Hugh," He
Said Enthusiastically. "The Way That You Crawled Up On Him The Last
Hundred Yards Was Thrilling. I Shouted Until I Was Hoarse. I Never Saw
Any One Fight More Gamely. He's A Faster Man Than You Are, But You
Almost Beat Him. I Congratulate You--Excuse The Word, Please--On Your
Guts."
Somehow Hugh Couldn't Stand Henley's Enthusiasm. Suddenly He Blurted Out
The Whole Story, His Drunkenness At The Prom, His Split With Cynthia--He
Did Not Mention The Visit To Norry's Room--His Determination To Redeem
Himself, His Feeling That If He Had Won That Race He Would At Least Have
Justified His Existence At The College, And, Finally, His Sense Of
Failure.
Henley Listened Sympathetically, Amused And Touched By The Boy's Naive
Philosophy. He Did Not Tell Him That The Race Was Relatively
Unimportant--He Was Sure That Hugh Would Find That Out For Himself--But
He Did Bring Him Comfort.
"You Did Not Fail, Hugh," He Said Gently; "You Succeeded Magnificently.
As For Serving Your College, You Can Always Serve It Best By Being
Yourself, Being True To Yourself, I Mean, And That Means Being The Very
Fine Gentleman That You Are." He Paused A Minute, Aware That He Must Be
Less Personal; Hugh Was Red To The Hair And Gazing Unhappily At The
Floor.
"You Must Read Browning," He Went On, "And Learn About His
Success-In-Failure Philosophy. He Maintains That It Is Better To Strive
For A Million And Miss It Than To Strive For A Hundred And Get It. 'A
Man's Reach Should Exceed His Grasp Or What's A Heaven For?' He Says It
In A Dozen Different Ways. It's The Man Who Tries Bravely For Something
Beyond His Power That Gets Somewhere, The Man Who Really Succeeds. Well,
You Tried For Something Beyond Your Power--To Beat Calvert, A Really
Great Runner. You Tried To Your Utmost; Therefore, You Succeeded. I
Admire Your Sense Of Failure; It Means That You Recognize An Ideal. But
I Think That You Succeeded. You May Not Have Quite Justified Yourself To
Yourself, But You Have Proved Capable Of Enduring A Hard Test Bravely.
You Have No Reason To Be Depressed, No Reason To Be Ashamed."
They Talked For A Long Time, And Finally Henley Confessed That He
Thought Cynthia Had Been Wise In Taking Herself Out Of Hugh's Life.
"I Can See," He Saidspite?
I Cannot Sleep At Night
And Meet Her Dreaming;
I Cannot See The Sketch
While Tears Are Streaming.
_Mishrakeshi_. My Friend, You Have Indeed Atoned--And In Her Friend's
Presence--For The Pain You Caused By Rejecting Dear Shakuntala.
(_Enter The Maid_ Chaturika.)
_Maid_. Your Majesty, I Was Coming Back With The Box Of
Paint-Brushes----
_King_. Well?
_Maid_. I Met Queen Vasumati With The Maid Pingalika. And The Queen
Snatched The Box From Me, Saying: "I Will Take It To The King Myself."
_Clown_. How Did You Escape?
_Maid_. The Queen's Dress Caught On A Vine. And While Her Maid Was
Setting Her Free, I Excused Myself In A Hurry. _A Voice Behind The
Scenes_. Follow Me, Your Majesty.
_Clown_ (_Listening_). Man, The She-Tiger Of The Palace Is Making A
Spring On Her Prey. She Means To Make One Mouthful Of The Maid.
_King_. My Friend, The Queen Has Come Because She Feels Touched In Her
Honour. You Had Better Take Care Of This Picture.
_Clown_. "And Yourself," You Might Add. (_He Takes The Picture And
Rises_.) If You Get Out Of The Trap Alive, Call For Me At The Cloud
Balcony. And I Will Hide The Thing There So That Nothing But A Pigeon
Could Find It. (_Exit On The Run_.)
_Mishrakeshi_. Though His Heart Is Given To Another, He Is Courteous
To His Early Flame. He Is A Constant Friend.
(_Enter The Portress With A Document_.)
_Portress_. Victory To Your Majesty.
_King_. Vetravati, Did You Not Meet Queen Vasumati?
_Portress_. Yes, Your Majesty. But She Turned Back When She Saw That I
Carried A Document.
_King_. The Queen Knows Times And Seasons. She Will Not Interrupt
Business.
_Portress_. Your Majesty, The Minister Sends Word That In The Press Of
Various Business He Has Attended To Only One Citizen's Suit. This He
Has Reduced To Writing For Your Majesty's Perusal.
_King_. Give Me The Document. (_The Portress Does So_.)
_King_ (_Reads_). "Be It Known To His Majesty. A Seafaring Merchant
Named Dhanavriddhi Has Been Lost In A Shipwreck. He Is Childless, And
His Property, Amounting To Several Millions, Reverts To The Crown.
Will His Majesty Take Action?" (_Sadly_.) It Is Dreadful To Be
Childless. Vetravati, He Had Great Riches. There Must Be Several
Wives. Let Inquiry Be Made. There May Be A Wife Who Is With Child.
_Portress_. We Have This Moment Heard That A Merchant's Daughter Of
Saketa Is His Wife. And She Is Soon To Become A Mother.
_King_. The Child Shall Receive The Inheritance. Go, Inform The
Minister.
_Portress_. Yes, Your Majesty. (_She Starts To Go_.)
_King_. Wait A Moment.
_Portress_ (_Turning Back_). Yes, Your Majesty. _King_. After All,
What Does It Matter Whether He Have Issue Or Not?
Let King Dushyanta Be Proclaimed
To Every Sad Soul Kin
That Mourns A Kinsman Loved And Lost,
Yet Did Not Plunge In Sin.
_Portress_. The Proclamation Shall Be Made. (_She Goes Out And Soon
Returns_.) Your Majesty, The Royal Proclamation Was Welcomed By The
Populace As Is A Timely Shower.
_King_ (_Sighing Deeply_). Thus, When Issue Fails, Wealth Passes, On
The Death Of The Head Of The Family, To A Stranger. When I Die, It
Will Be So With The Glory Of Puru's Line.
_Portress_. Heaven Avert The Omen!
_King_. Alas! I Despised The Happiness That Offered Itself To Me.
_Mishrakeshi_. Without Doubt, He Has Dear Shakuntala In Mind When He
Thus Reproaches Himself.
_King_.
Could I Forsake The Virtuous Wife
Who Held My Best, My Future Life
And Cherished It For Glorious Birth,
As Does The Seed-Receiving Earth?
_Mishrakeshi_. She Will Not Long Be Forsaken.
_Maid_ (_To The Portress_). Mistress, The Minister's Report Has
Doubled Our Lord's Remorse. Go To The Cloud Balcony And Bring Madhavya
To Dispel His Grief.
_Portress_. A Good Suggestion. (_Exit_.)
_King_. Alas! The Ancestors Of Dushyanta Are In A Doubtful Case.
For I Am Childless, And They Do Not Know,
When I Am Gone, What Child Of Theirs Will Bring
The Scriptural Oblation; And Their Tears
Already Mingle With My Offeen I Am Gone, What Child Of Theirs Will Bring
The Sk That
Gates Had So Splendidly Started. Nu Delta Was In The Throes Of One Of
Those Changes So Characteristic Of Fraternities.
Chapter 21
Hugh Spent His Last College Vacation At Home, Working On The Farm,
Reading, Occasionally Dancing At Corley Lake, And Thinking A Great Deal.
He Saw Janet Harton, Now Janet Moffitt, Several Times At The Lake And
Wondered How He Could Ever Have Adored Her. She Was Still Childlike,
Still Dainty And Pretty, But To Hugh She Was Merely A Talking Doll, And
He Felt A Little Sorry For Her Burly, Rather Stupid Husband Who Lumbered
About After Her Like A Protecting Watch-Dog.
He Met Plenty Of Pretty Girls At The Lake, But, As He Said, He Was "Off
Women For Good." He Was Afraid Of Them; He Had Been Severely Burnt, And
While The Fire Still Fascinated Him, It Frightened Him, Too. Women, He
Was Sure, Were Shallow Creatures, Dangerous To A Man's Peace Of Mind And
Self-Respect. They Were All Right To Dance With And Pet A Bit; But That
Was All, Absolutely All.
He Thought A Lot About Girls That Summer And Even More About His Life
After Graduation From College. What Was He Going To Do? Life Stretched
Ahead Of Him For One Year Like A Smooth, Flowered Plain--And Then The
Abyss. He Felt Prepared To Do Nothing At All, And He Was Not Swept By An
Overpowering Desire To Do Anything In Particular. Writing Had The
Greatest Appeal For Him, But He Doubted His Ability. Teach? Perhaps. But
Teaching Meant Graduate Work. Well, He Would See What The Next Year At
College Would Show. He Was Going To Take A Course In Composition With
Professor Henley, And If Henley Thought His Gifts Warranted It, He Would
Ask His Father For A Year Or Two Of Graduate Work At Harvard.
College Was Pleasant That Last Year. It Was Pleasant To Wear A Blue
Sweater With An Orange S On It; It Was Pleasant, Too, To Wear A Small
White Hat That Had A Blue B On The Crown, The Insignia Of The Boulé And
A Sign That He Was A Person To Be Respected And Obeyed; It Was Pleasant
To Be Spoken To By The Professors As One Who Had Reached Something
Approaching Manhood; Life Generally Was Pleasant, Not So Exciting As The
Three Preceding Years But Fuller And Richer. Early In The First Term He
Was Elected To Helmer, An Honor Society That Possessed A Granite "Tomb,"
A Small Windowless Building In Which The Members Were Supposed To
Discuss Questions Of Great Importance And Practice Secret Rites Of
Awe-Inspiring Wonder. As A Matter Of Fact, The Monthly Meetings Were
Nothing But "Bull Fests," Or As One Cynical Member Put It, "We Wear A
Gold Helmet On Our Sweaters And Chew The Fat Once A Month." True
Enough, But That Gold Helmet Glittered Enticingly In The Eyes Of Every
Student Who Did Not Possess One.
For The First Time Hugh's Studies Meant More To Him Than The
Undergraduate Life. He Had Chosen His Instructors Carefully, Having
Learned From Three Years Of Experience That The Instructor Was Far More
Important Than The Title Of The Course. He Had Three Classes In
Literature, One In Music--Partly Because It Was A "Snap" And Partly
Because He Really Wanted To Know More About Music--And His Composition
Course With Henley, To Him The Most Important Of The Lot.
He Really Studied, And At The End Of The First Term Received Three A's
And Two B's, A Very Creditable Record. What Was More Important Than His
Record, However, Was The Fact That He Was Really Enjoying His Work; He
Was Intellectually Awakened And Hungry For Learning.
Also, For The First Time He Really Enjoyed The Fraternity. Jack Lawrence
Was Proving An Able President, And Nu Delta Pledged A Freshman
Delegation Of Which Hugh Was Genuinely Proud. There Were Plenty Of Men
In The Chapter Whom He Did Not Like Or Toward Whom He Was Indifferent,
But He Had Learned To Ignore Them And Center His Interest In Those Men
Whom He Found Congenial.
The First Term Was Ideal, But The Second Became A Maelstrom Of Doubt And
Trouble In Which He Whirled Madly Around Trying To Find Some Philosophy
That Would Solve His Difficulties.
When Norry Returned To College After The Christmas Vacation, He Told
Hugh That He Had Seen Cynthia. Naturally, Hugh Was Interested, And The
Mere Mention Of Cynthia's Name Was Still Enough To Quicken His Pulse.
"How Did She Look?" He Asked Eagerly.
"Awful."
"What! What's The Matter? Is She Sick?"
Norry Shook His Head. "No, I Don't Think She Is Exactly Sick," He Said
Gravely, "But Something Is The Matter With Her. You Know, She Has Been
Going An Awful Pace, Tearing Around Like Crazy. I Told You That, I Know,
When I Came Back In The Fall. Well, She's Kept It Up, And I Guess She's
About All In. I Couldn't Understand It. Cynthia's Always Run With A Fast
Bunch, But She's Never Had A Bad Name. She's Beginning To Get One Now."
"No!" Hugh Was Honestly
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