Active Service, Stephen Crane [classic books for 11 year olds TXT] 📗
- Author: Stephen Crane
Book online «Active Service, Stephen Crane [classic books for 11 year olds TXT] 📗». Author Stephen Crane
" 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 7As 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
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