Active Service, Stephen Crane [classic books for 11 year olds TXT] 📗

Payment For Any Sacrifices.

 

" What'S The Matter? " Persisted the Wine Merchant. " You

Look Grumpy."

Coleman Laughed. " Do I?"

 

At Liverpool,  As The Steamer Was Being slowly Warped to The

Landing stage By Some Tugs,  The Passengers Crowded the Deck

With Their Hand-Bags. Adieus Were Falling as Dead Leaves Fall

From A Great Tree. The Stewards Were Handling small Hills Of

Luggage Marked with Flaming red labels. The Ship Was Firmly

Against The Dock Before Miss Black Came From Her Cabin.

Coleman Was At The Time Gazing shoreward,  But His Three

Particular Friends Instantly Nudged him. "What?" "There She

Is?" "Oh,  Miss Black?" He Composedly Walked toward Her. It

Was Impossible To Tell Whether She Saw Him Coming or Whether It

Was Accident,  But At Any Rate She Suddenly Turned and Moved

Toward The Stern Of The Ship. Ten Watchful Gossips Had Noted

Coleman'S Travel In her Direction And More Than Half The

Passengers Noted his Defeat. He Wheeled casually And Returned

To His Three Friends. They Were Colic-Stricken With A Coarse And

Yet Silent Merriment. Coleman Was Glad That The Voyage Was

Over.

 

After The Polite Business Of An English Custom House,  The

Travellers Passed out To The Waiting train. A Nimble Little

Theatrical Agent Of Some Kind,  Sent From London,  Dashed

Forward To Receive Miss Black. He Had A First-Class Compartment

Engaged for Her And He Bundled her And Her Maid Into It In an

Exuberance Of Enthusiasm And Admiration.. Coleman Passing moodily

Along The Line Of Coaches Heard Nora'S Voice Hailing him.

 

" Rufus." There She Was,  Framed in a Carriage Window,

Beautiful And Smiling brightly. Every Near. By Person Turned to

Contemplate This Vision.

 

" Oh," Said Coleman Advancing,  " I Thought I Was Not Going

To Get A Chance To Say Good-Bye To You." He Held Out His Hand.

" Good-Bye."

 

She Pouted. " Why,  There'S Plenty Of Room In this

Compartment." Seeing that Some Forty People Were Transfixed in

Observation Of Her,  She Moved a Short Way Back. " Come On In

This Compartment,  Rufus," She Said.

 

"Thanks. I Prefer To Smoke," Said Coleman. He Went Off

Abruptly.

 

On The Way To London,  He Brooded in his Corner On The Two

Divergent Emotions He Had Experienced when Refusing her

Invitation. At Euston Station In london,  He Was Directing a

Porter,  Who Had His Luggage,  When He Heard Nora Speak At His

Shoulder. " Well,  Rufus,  You Sulky Boy," She Said,  " I Shall Be At

The Cecil. If You Have Time,  Come And See Me."

 

" Thanks,  I'M Sure,  My Dear Nora," Answered coleman

Effusively. "But Honestly,  I'M Off For Greece."

 

A Brougham Was Drawn Up Near Them And The Nimble

Little Agent Was Waiting. The Maid Was Directing the

Establishment Of A Mass Of Luggage On And In a Four-Wheeler

Cab. " Well,  Put Me Into My Carriage,  Anyhow," Said Nora. " You

Will Have Time For That."

 

Afterward She Addressed him From The Dark Interior.

Now,  Rufus,  You Must Come To See Me The Minute You Strike

London Again- Of She Hesitated a Moment And Then Smiling

Gorgeously Upon Him,  She Said: " Brute! "

Chapter 7

As Soon As Coleman Had Planted his Belongings In a Hotel He

Was Bowled in a Hansom Briskly Along The Smoky Strand,

Through A Dark City Whose Walls Dripped like The Walls Of A Cave

And Whose Passages Were Only Illuminated by Flaring yellow

And Red signs.

 

Walkley The London Correspondent Of The Eclipse,  Whirled

From His Chair With A Shout Of Joy And Relief -At Sight Of Coleman.

" Cables," He Cried. "Nothin' But Cables! All The People In new

York Are Writing cables To You. The Wires Groan With Them. And

We Groan With Them Too. They Come In here In bales. However,

There Is No Reason Why You Should Read Them All. Many Are

Similar In words And Many More Are Similar In spirit. The Sense

Of The Whole Thing is That You Get To Greece Quickly,  Taking with

You Immense Sums Of Money And Enormous Powers Over

Nations."

 

" Well,  When Does The Row Begin? "

 

" The Most Astute Journalists In europe Have Been Predicting

A General European Smash-Up Every Year Since 1878," Said

Walkley,  " And The Prophets Weep. The English Are The Only

People Who Can Pull Off Wars On Schedule Time,  And They Have

To Do It In odd Corners Of The Globe. I Fear The War Business Is

Getting tuckered. There Is Sorrow In the Lodges Of The Lone Wolves, 

The War Correspondents. However,  My Boy,  Don'T Bury Your Face In

Your Blanket. This Greek Business Looks Very Promising,  Very

Promising." He Then Began To Proclaim Trains And Connections.

" Dover,  Calais,  Paris,  Brindisi,  Corfu,  Patras,  Athens. That Is

Your Game. You Are Supposed to Sky-Rocket Yourself Over That

Route In the Shortest Possible Time,  But You Would Gain No Time

By Starting before To-Morrow,  So You Can Cool Your Heels Here

In London Until Then. I Wish I Was Going along."

 

Coleman Returned to His Hotel,  A Knight Impatient And Savage

At Being kept For A Time Out Of The Saddle. He Went For A Late

Supper To The Grill Room And As He Was Seated there Alone,  A

Party Of Four Or Five People Came To Occupy The Table Directly

Behind Him. They Talked a Great Deal Even Before They Arrayed

Them. Selves At The Table,  And He At Once Recognised the Voice

Of Nora Black. She Was Queening it,  Apparently,  Over A Little

Band Of Awed masculine Worshippers.

 

Either By Accident Or For Some Curious Reason,  She Took A

Chair Back To Back With Coleman'S Chair. Her Sleeve Of Fragrant

Stuff Almost Touched his Shoulder And He Felt Appealing to Him

Seductively A Perfume Of Orris Root And Violet. He Was Drinking

Bottled stout With His Chop; Be Sat With A Face Of Wood.

 

" Oh,  The Little Lord ? " Nora Was Crying to Some Slave.

"Now,  Do You Know,  He Won'T Do At All. He Is Too Awfully

Charming. He Sits And Ruminates For Fifteen Minutes And Then He

Pays Me A Lovely Compliment. Then He Ruminates For Another

Fifteen Minutes And Cooks Up Another Fine Thing. It Is Too

Tiresome. Do You Know What Kind Of Man. I Like? " She Asked

Softly And Confidentially. And Here She Sank Back In her Chair

Until. Coleman Knew From The Tingle That Her Head Was But A Few

Inches From His Head. Her,  Sleeve Touched him. He Turned more

Wooden Under The Spell Of The Orris Root And Violet. Her

Courtiers Thought It All A Graceful Pose,  But Coleman Believed

Otherwise. Her Voice Sank To The Liquid,  Siren Note Of A

Succubus. " Do You Know What Kind Of A Man I Like? Really

Like? I Like A Man That A Woman Can'T Bend In a Thousand

Different Ways In five Minutes. He Must Have Some Steel In him.

He Obliges Me To Admire Him The Most When He Remains Stolid;

Stolid To Me Lures. Ah,  That Is The Only Kind Of A Man Who Cap

Ever Break A Heart Among Us Women Of The World. His Stolidity

Is Not Real; No; It Is Mere Art,  But It Is A Highly Finished art And

Often Enough We Can'T Cut Through It. Really We Can'T. And,  Then

We May Actually Come To--Er--Care For The Man. Really We May.

Isn'T It Funny?"

 

Alt The End Coleman Arose And Strolled out Of The. Room,

Smoking a Cigarette. He Did Not Betray,  A Sign. Before. The Door

Clashed softly Behind Him,   Nora Laughed a Little Defiantly,  Perhaps

A Little Loudly. It Made Every Man In the Grill-Room Perk Up His Ears.

As For Her Courtiers,  They Were Entranced. In her Description Of The

Conquering man,  She Had Easily Contrived that Each One Of

Them Wondered if She Might Not Mean Him. Each Man Was

Perfectly Sure That He Had Plenty Of Steel In his Composition

And That Seemed to Be A Main Point.

 

Coleman Delayed for A Time In the Smoking room And Then Went

To His Own Quarters. In reality He Was Somewhat Puzzled in his

Mind By A Projection Of The Beauties Of Nora Black Upon His

Desire For Greece And Marjory,  His Thoughts Formed a Duality.

Once He Was On The Point Of Sending his Card To Nora Black'S

Parlour,  Inasmuch As Greece Was Very Distant And He Could Not

Start Until The Morrow. But He Suspected that He Was Holding

The Interest Of The Actress Because Of His Recent Appearance Of

Impregnable Serenity In the Presence Of Her Fascinations. If He

Now Sent His Card,  It Was A Form Of Surrender And He Knew Her

To Be One To Take A Merciless Advantage. He Would Not Make

This Tactical Mistake. On The Contrary He Would Go To Bed and

Think Of War,

 

In Reality He Found It Easy To Fasten His Mind Upon The

Prospective War. He Regarded himself Cynically In most

Affairs,  But He Could Not Be Cynical Of War,  Because Had He -

Seen None Of It. His Rejuvenated imagination Began To Thrill To

The Roll Of Battle,

Through His Thought Passing all The Lightning in the Pictures Of

Detaille,  De Neuville And Morot; Lashed battery Horse Roaring

Over Bridges; Grand Cuirassiers Dashing headlong Against Stolid

Invincible Red-Faced lines Of German Infantry; Furious And

Bloody Grapplings In the Streets Of Little Villages Of

Northeastern France. There Was One Thing at Least Of Which He

Could Still Feel The Spirit Of A Debutante. In this Matter Of War He

Was Not,  Too,  Unlike A Young Girl Embarking upon Her First

Season Of Opera. Walkely,  The Next Morning,  Saw This Mood

Sitting quaintly Upon Coleman And Cackled with Astonishment

And Glee. Coleman'S Usual Manner Did Not Return Until He

Detected walkely'S Appreciation Of His State And Then He

Snubbed him According to The Ritual Of The Sunday Editor Of The

New York Eclipse. Parenthetically,  It

Might Be Said That If Coleman Now Recalled nora Black To His

Mind At All,  It Was Only To Think Of Her For A Moment With Ironical

Complacence. He Had Beaten Her.

 

When The Train Drew Out Of The Station,  Coleman Felt Himself

Thrill. Was Ever Fate Less Perverse ? War And Love-War And

Marjory-Were In conjunction Both In greece-And He Could Tilt

With One Lance At Both Gods. It Was A Great Fine Game To Play

And No Man Was Ever So Blessed in vacations. He Was Smiling

Continually To Himself And Sometimes Actually On The Point Of

Talking aloud. This Was Despite The

Presence In the Compartment Of Two Fellow Passengers Who

Preserved in their Uncomfortably Rigid,  Icy And Uncompromising

Manners Many Of The More Or Less Ridiculous Traditions Of The

English First Class Carriage. Coleman'S Fine Humour Betrayed him

Once Into Addressing one Of These Passengers And The Man

Responded simply With A Wide Look Of Incredulity,  As If He

Discovered that He Was Travelling in the Same Compartment With

A Zebu. It Turned coleman Suddenly To Evil Temper And He

Wanted to Ask The Man Questions Concerning his Education And

His Present Mental Condition: And So Until The Train Arrived at

Dover,  His Ballooning soul Was In danger Of Collapsing. On The

Packet Crossing the Channel,  Too,  He Almost Returned to The

Usual Rufus Coleman Since All The World Was Seasick And He

Could Not Get A Cabin In which To Hide Himself From It. However

He Reaped much Consolation By Ordering a Bottle Of

Champagne And Drinking it In sight Of The People,  Which Made

Them Still More Seasick. From Calais To Brindisi Really Nothing

Met His Disapproval Save The Speed of The Train,  The Conduct Of

Some Of The Passengers,  The Quality Of The Food Served,  The

Manners Of The Guards,  The Temperature Of The Carriages,  The

Prices Charged and The Length Of The Journey.

 

In Time He Passed as In a Vision From Wretched brindisi To

Charming corfu,  From Corfu To The Little

War-Bitten City Of Patras And From Patras By Rail At The Speed of

An Ox-Cart To Athens.

 

With A Smile Of Grim Content And Surrounded in his Carriage

With All His Beautiful Brown Luggage,  He Swept Through The

Dusty Streets Of The Greek Capital. Even As The Vehicle Arrived in

A Great Terraced square In front Of The Yellow Palace,  Greek

Recruits In garments Representing many Trades And Many

Characters Were Marching up