South Wind(Fiscle Part-3), Norman Douglas [most important books of all time .TXT] 📗

Lucrative Contracts For Supplying The Troops

With Mean. The Soldiery Refusing To Eat Either Beef Or Mutton Or Pork,

Percentages Declined. These Leaders Took Up A Firm Patriotic Attitude.

The Health And Morale Of The Entire Army,  They Declared,  Was Dependent

Upon A Sound Nutritive Diet Obtainable Only Through The Operation Of

Certain Radioactive Oxydised Magneto-Carbon-Hydrates Which Exist

Nowhere Save In The Muscular Tissue Of Animals. This New Heresy

Endangered The Very Foundations Of Empire! They Were Not People To

Compromise Where Questions Of National Prosperity Were Concerned. They

Suggested,  Privately,  That He Should Cancel His Revelation. He Refused.

They Then Sent Him A Confidential Messenger Offering The Choice Of

Assassination Or Deportation Within The Space Of Three Hours. He

Inclined To The Latter Alternative,  And Was Straightway Conveyed To The

Frontier By Special Train With As Many Rouble Notes In His Pocket As He

Had Been Able To Scrape Together In The Flurry Of Departure. Some

Disturbances Broke Out When The News Of His Banishment Became Known; A

Few Whiffs Of Grape-Shot Worked Wonders. The Majority Of His Adherents

Abjured Their Error; The Rest Of Them,  Aided By Charitable

Contributions From A Secret Committee Of Enthusiasts,  Found Their Way

Abroad To Dwell Under The Shadow Of The Banished Messiah. The Expiatory

Period Was Approaching. Russia,  On The Whole,  Was Glad To See The Last

Of Him--Particularly The Grand Ducal Party.

 

A Broken Man,  He Decided To Establish Himself On Nepenthe,  Drawn

Thither Partly On Account Of The Climate But Chiefly By The Report Of

Its Abounding Lobsters And Fishes,  An Article Of Diet Of Which He Was

Inordinately Fond. Disciples Followed Singly,  And In Batches. Their

Scarlet Blouses Became A Familiar Object In The Streets Of The Place;

Good-Natured And Harmless Folks For The Most Part Who,  If They Ran Up

Bills With The Local Trades-People Which They Failed To Pay,  Did So Not

Out Of Natural Dishonesty But Because They Had No Money. They Used To

Bathe,  In Summertime,  At A Certain Little Cove Near The Foot Of The

Promontory On Which Madame Steynlin's Villa Was Situated. She Watched

Their Naked Antics At First With Disapproval--What Could You Expect,  She

Would Say,  From Russians? Then She Observed Them Eating Raw Crabs And

Things. It Struck Her That They Must Be Hungry. Being A Lady Of The

Sentimental Type,  Childless,  And Never So Happy As When Feeding Or

Mothering Somebody,  She Took To Sending Them Down Baskets Of Food,  Or

Carrying It Herself. They Were So Poor,  So Far From Their Homes,  So

Picturesque In Those Red Shirts And Leathern Belts!

 

Of Late Years Madame Steynlin Had Given Up Marrying,  Having At Last,

After Many Broken Hopes,  Definitely Convinced Herself That Husbands

Were Only After Her Money. Rightly Or Wrongly,  She Wanted To Be Loved

For Herself; Loved,  She Insisted,  Body And Soul. Even As The Fires Of

Erebus Slumber Beneath Their Mantle Of Ice,  She Concealed,  Under A

Varnish Of Conventionality--The Crust Was Not So Thick In Her Case--A

Nature Throbbing With Passion. She Was Everlastingly Unappeased,

Because Incurably Romantic. All Life,  She Truly Declared,  Is A Search

For A Friend. Unfortunately She Sought With Her Eyes Open,  Having Never

Grasped The Elementary Truth That To Find A Friend One Must Close One

Eye: To Keep Him--Two. She Always Attributed To Men Qualities Which,  She

Afterwards Discovered,  They Did Not Possess. Her Life Since The

Marrying Period Had Been A Breathless Succession Of Love Affairs,  Each

More Eternal Than The Last.

 

In Matters Such As These,  Madame Steynlin Was The Reverse Of The

Duchess. True To Her Ideal Of La Pompadour,  That Lady Did Not Mind How

Many Men Danced Attendance On Her--The More The Merrier. Nor Did She

Bother About Their Ages; For All She Cared,  They Might Be,  And Often

Were,  The Veriest Crocks. She Was Rather Particular,  However,  About

Stiff Collars And Things; The Appearance And Conversation Of Her

Retinue,  She Avowed,  Should Be Of The Kind To Pass Muster In Good

Society. Madame Steynlin Liked To Have Not More Than One Man Escorting

Her At A Time,  And He Should Be Young,  Healthy-Looking,  And Full Of

Life. In Regard To Minor Matters She Preferred,  If Anything,  Byronic

Collars To Starched Ones; Troubling Little,  For The Rest,  What Costume

Her Cavalier Was Wearing Or What Opinions He Expressed. In Fact,  She

Liked Youngsters To Be Frank,  Impetuous,  Extravagant In Their Views And

Out Of The Common Rut. The Two Ladies Had Been Likened To Divine And

Earthly Love,  Or To Venus Urania And Venus Pandemos--A Comparison Which

Was Manifestly Unfair To Both Of Them.

 

It Was During This Summer Bathing That Madame Steynlin Had Made

Acquaintance Of What Was,  At The Time,  The Master's Favourite Disciple.

His Name Happened To Be Peter--Peter Arsenievitch Krasnojabkin. He Was A

Fine Son Of Earth--A Strapping Young Giant Who Threw Himself Into

Eating,  Drinking,  And Other Joys Of Life With Enviable Barbaric Zest.

There Was Not An Ounce Of Piety In His Composition. He Had Donned The

Scarlet Blouse Because He Wanted To See Nepenthe And,  Like The

Christians Of Old,  Had No Money. Driven By That Roving Spirit Which Is

The Muscovite's Heritage And By The Desire Of All Sensible Men To Taste

New Lands,  New Wine,  New Women,  He Professed Himself A Little White

Cow. It Was Quite The Regular Thing To Do. It Brought You To The Notice

Of That Secret Committee Of Enthusiasts Who Paid Your Travel Expenses;

It Gave You A Free Trip To The Sunny South. Everyone Wondered How He

Had Managed To Rise So Rapidly In The Master's Graces. Madame Steynlin

Now Stepped Between Them. She Grew Fond Of Peter,  And Marked Him For

Her Own. He Fulfilled Every One Of Her Conditions As To Age,  Costume

And Opinions. Besides,  He Was Always So Gloriously Hungry! She Invited

Him To Take Luncheon Once Or Twice And Then Began To Take Russian

Lessons From Him. "He Is Only A Boy," She Would Say.

 

Conversing,  As Best She Could,  With This Child Of Nature,  It Dawned

Upon Her That She Had Hitherto Been Mistaken In Her Estimate Of The

Russian Character. She Began To Understand The Inward Sense Of That

Brotherly Love,  That Apostolic Spirit,  Which Binds Together Every Class

Of The Immense Empire--To Revere Their Simplicity Of Soul And Calm

God-Like Faith. She Revised Her Former Narrow Lutheran Views And Openly

Confessed That She Was Quite Wrong In Declaring,  As She Once Did,  That

What The Little White Cows Needed Was "More Soap And Less Salvation."

The Magic Of Love! It Softened,  Not For The First Time,  Her Heart

Towards All Humanity And In Particular,  On This Occasion,  Towards The

Rest Of The Saintly Band; Were They Not Her Brothers And Sisters? She

Even Knitted Six Pairs Of Warm Woollen Socks And Sent Them With A

Polite Message To The Master--A Message Which Was Left Unanswered,

Though The Socks Were Never Returned. As To Peter--She Called Him Her

Little Peter Or,  In His More Expansive Moments,  Peter The Great. Soon

He Was Always Coming To The Villa At Meal-Times And Staying For Hours

Afterwards,  While They Wrestled With The Complexities Of Russian

Genders. He Made No Secret Of The Pleasure He Derived From Filling His

Healthy Young Stomach At Her Expense; Everything Supplementary To That

Prime Condition He Took As A Gift From The Gods. If He Had Not Been So

Simple-Minded He Could Have Wheedled Any Amount Of Money Out Of Her.

The Affair Had Now Been Going On For Four Month--Quite A Long While,  As

Such Affairs Went.

 

Not For The First Time Did Madame Steynlin Experience The Drawbacks Of

Her House,  As Regards Natural Situation. It Was,  As Don Francesco Often

Pointed Out,  "The Most Unstrategic Villa On Nepenthe." Ah,  That

Peninsula,  That Isthmus,  Or Whatever You Called The Thing--What On Earth

Had Attracted Her To The Place? What Demon Had Tempted Her To Buy It?

How She Envied The Other People--Keith,  For Example,  Who,  If He Had Been

A Man Of That Kind,  Could Have Allowed Any Visitor,  In The Broadest

Daylight,  To Creep In Or Out Of His Mouldy Old Gateway In The Wall

Without A Soul Being Any The Wiser! High-Priced Horticultural Experts

Had Been Consulted As To The Best Means Of Thickening The Vegetation

And Screening The Approaches To The House. They Had Met With Scanty

Success. The Soil Was Of The Most Sterile,  Intractable Rock; Those Few

Wind-Blown Olives Were Dreadfully Diaphanous,  And Peter's Blouse

Visible From Afar--Even From The Market-Place. Everything Got About On

Nepenthe. People Began To Twit Her About The Progress Of Those "Russian

Lessons." It Became Quite A Scandal. Signor Malipizzo Was More Annoyed

Than Any One Else. He Hated The Whole Brood Of Russians,  And Had Formed

Various Projects For Uprooting The Association From The Island. His

Friend The Commissioner Thoroughly Endorsed These Views. Often He

Declared That Something Must Be Done About It.

 

The Master,  Despite His Seclusion,  Had Heard Of The Affair. He Was

Grieved,  But Not Unduly So; He Had Other Disciples To Choose From.

Every New Arrival From Holy Russia,  Regardless Of Sex Or Age,  Spent

Some Hours Or Days,  As The Case Might Be,  Alone With The Master In His

Apartment,  In Order To Be Initiated Into The Law And Impregnated With

Its Full Signification: Such Was The Way Of The New Jerusalem. By This

System Of Spiritual Control He Could Be Sure Of Finding A Successor

Sooner Or Later. Besides,  The Defection Of This Favourite Disciple Was

Only A Drop In The Ocean Of His Griefs. What Secretly Preyed Upon His

Mind Was That,  On The Verge Of Returning To His Former State Of Worldly

Prosperity,  He Had Been Inspired To Issue That Second Revelation

Regarding Warm-Blooded Beasts. He Ought To Have Known About The Grand

Dukes,  And What A Sacrilegious Hot-Tempered Clique They Were! "This

Comes," He Would Say,  "Of Placing The Service Of God Above That Of My

Earthly Masters." It Kept Him In Exile On This Island--The Deadlock In

The Matter Of That Second Revelation. The Expiatory Period Was Not Yet

Over,  Though Nepenthe,  On The Whole,  Would Have Been Glad To See The

Last Of Him--Particularly Signor Malipizzo.

 

Meanwhile,  The Little White Cows Lived On: The Richer In Houses,

Sleeping Fifteen Or Twenty In One Room After The Happy Style Of

Patriarchal Russia--The Humbler Folk In Old Ruins,  Sheds,  Cellars,  Or

Even Caverns Of The Rock. You Could Do That Sort Of Thing In A Climate

Like Nepenthe,  If You Were Not Fastidious In The Matter Of Owls,  Bats,

Lizards,  Toads,  Earwigs,  Centipedes,  And An Occasional Scorpion.

 

 

 

Chapter 12

 

 

 

 

No Russians Dwelt Within The Cave Of Mercury. It Was Inconveniently

Remote; It Was Difficult Of Approach; Moreover,  It Was Haunted.

Dreadful Rites Had Been Performed There,  In Olden Times. The Walls Had

Dripped With Human Gore. Death-Groans Of Victims Slain By The Priestly

Knife Resounded In Its Hollow Entrails. Such Had Been The Legend In The

Days Of Those Monkish Chroniclers In Whose Credulous Pages Monsignor

Perrelli,  Incredulous Himself,  Had Discovered A Mine Of Curious

Information.

 

Then Came The Good Duke Alfred. His Highness Posed As A Conservative In

Some Matters; It Pleased Him To Revive Memories Of The Long-Buried

Past. He Cared Little About Ghosts. He Liked To Take Things In Hand.

After Remarking In His Brisk Epigrammatic Fashion That "Not Everything

Old Is Putrid," He Devoted His Attention To The Cave Of Mercury And

Caused A Flight Of Convenient Stairs To Be Built,  Wide Enough To Admit

The Passage Of Two Of His Fattest Privy Councillors Walking Abreast,

And Leading Down To This Particular Grotto Through A Cleft In The Rock.

Nobody Knew What Happened There Under His Superintendence. Mankind

Being Ever Prone To Believe The Worst Of Every Great Man,  All Kinds Of

Stupid And Even Wicked Things Were Said,  Though Not During His

Lifetime. People Vowed That He Carried On The Old Traditions,  The

Tortures And Human Sacrifices,  And Even Improved Upon Them In His

Blithe Renaissance Manner. They Were Ready To Supply Circumstantial And

Excruciating Details Of How,  Disguised,  Down To The Minutest Details Of

Costume,  In The Semblance Of The Evil One,  He Had Sought To Prolong His

Life And Invigorate His Declining Health With The Blood Of Innocent

Children,