老妇人的故事 英文版The Old Wives' Tale
阿诺德.本涅特 Arnold Bennett
II
"Your muffler--I'll get it," said Constance. "Cyril, run upstairsand get father's muffler. You know the drawer."
Cyril ran. It behoved everybody, that morning, to be prompt andefficient.
"I don't need any muffler, thank you," said Samuel, coughing andsmothering the cough.
"Oh! But, Sam--" Constance protested.
"Now please don't worry me!" said Samuel with frigid finality."I've got quite enough--!" He did not finish.
Constance sighed as her husband stepped, nervous and self-important, out of the side-door into the street. It was early, notyet eight o'clock, and the shop still unopened.
"Your father couldn't wait," Constance said to Cyril when he hadthundered down the stairs in his heavy schoolboy boots. "Give itto me." She went to restore the muffler to its place.
The whole house was upset, and Amy still an invalid! Existence wasdisturbed; there vaguely seemed to be a thousand novel things tobe done, and yet she could think of nothing whatever that sheneeded to do at that moment; so she occupied herself with themuffler. Before she reappeared Cyril had gone to school, he whowas usually a laggard. The truth was that he could no longercontain within himself a recital of the night, and in particularof the fact that he had been the first to hear the summons of themurderer on the window-pane. This imperious news had to beimparted to somebody, as a preliminary to the thrilling of thewhole school; and Cyril had issued forth in search of anappreciative and worthy confidant. He was scarcely five minutesafter his father.
In St. Luke's Square was a crowd of quite two hundred persons,standing moveless in the November mud. The body of Mrs. DanielPovey had already been taken to the Tiger Hotel, and young DickPovey was on his way in a covered wagonette to Pirehill Infirmaryon the other side of Knype. The shop of the crime was closed, andthe blinds drawn at the upper windows of the house. There wasabsolutely nothing to be seen, not even a policeman. Neverthelessthe crowd stared with an extraordinary obstinate attentiveness atthe fatal building in Boulton Terrace. Hypnotized by this face ofbricks and mortar, it had apparently forgotten all earthly ties,and, regardless of breakfast and a livelihood, was determined tostare at it till the house fell down or otherwise rendered up itssecret. Most of its component individuals wore neither overcoatsnor collars, but were kept warm by a scarf round the neck and bydint of forcing their fingers into the furthest inch of theirpockets. Then they would slowly lift one leg after the other.Starers of infirm purpose would occasionally detach themselvesfrom the throng and sidle away, ashamed of their fickleness. Butreinforcements were continually arriving. And to these new-comersall that had been said in gossip had to be repeated and repeated:the same questions, the same answers, the same exclamations, thesame proverbial philosophy, the same prophecies recurred in allparts of the Square with an uncanny iterance. Well-dressed menspoke to mere professional loiterers; for this unparalleled andglorious sensation, whose uniqueness grew every instant moreimpressive, brought out the essential brotherhood of mankind. Allhad a peculiar feeling that the day was neither Sunday nor week-day, but some eighth day of the week. Yet in the St. Luke'sCovered Market close by, the stall-keepers were preparing theirstalls just as though it were Saturday, just as though a TownCouncillor had not murdered his wife--at last! It was stated, andrestated infinitely, that the Povey baking had been taken over byBrindley, the second-best baker and confectioner, who had a stallin the market. And it was asserted, as a philosophical truth, andreasserted infinitely, that there would have been no sense inwasting good food.
Samuel's emergence stirred the multitude. But Samuel passed up theSquare with a rapt expression; he might have been under anillusion, caused by the extreme gravity of his preoccupations,that he was crossing a deserted Square. He hurried past the Bankand down the Turnhill Road, to the private residence of 'YoungLawton,' son of the deceased 'Lawyer Lawton.' Young Lawtonfollowed his father's profession; he was, as his father had been,the most successful solicitor in the town (though reputed by hislearned rivals to be a fool), but the custom of calling men bytheir occupations had died out with horse-cars. Samuel caughtyoung Lawton at his breakfast, and presently drove with him, inthe Lawton buggy, to the police-station, where their arrivalelectrified a crowd as large as that in St. Luke's Square. Later,they drove together to Hanbridge, informally to brief a barrister;and Samuel, not permitted to be present at the first part of theinterview between the solicitor and the barrister, was humbledbefore the pomposity of legal etiquette.
It seemed to Samuel a game. The whole rigmarole of police andpolice-cells and formalities seemed insincere. His cousin's casewas not like any other case, and, though formalities might benecessary, it was rather absurd to pretend that it was like anyother case. In what manner it differed from other cases Samuel didnot analytically inquire. He thought young Lawton was self-important, and Daniel too humble, in the colloquy of these two,and he endeavoured to indicate, by the dignity of his owndemeanour, that in his opinion the proper relative tones had notbeen set. He could not understand Daniel's attitude, for he lackedimagination to realize what Daniel had been through. After all,Daniel was not a murderer; his wife's death was due to accident,was simply a mishap.
But in the crowded and stinking court-room of the Town Hall,Samuel began to feel qualms. It occurred that the StipendiaryMagistrate was sitting that morning at Bursley. He sat alone, asnot one of the Borough Justices cared to occupy the Bench while aTown Councillor was in the dock. The Stipendiary, recentlyappointed, was a young man, from the southern part of the county;and a Town Councillor of Bursley was no more to him than a pettytradesman to a man of fashion. He was youthfully enthusiastic forthe majesty and the impartiality of English justice, and behavedas though the entire responsibility for the safety of that vastfabric rested on his shoulders. He and the barrister fromHanbridge had had a historic quarrel at Cambridge, and theirbehaviour to each other was a lesson to the vulgar in the art ofchill and consummate politeness. Young Lawton, having been toOxford, secretly scorned the pair of them, but, as he had engagedcounsel, he of course was precluded from adding to the eloquence,which chagrined him. These three were the aristocracy of thecourt-room; they knew it; Samuel Povey knew it; everybody knew it,and felt it. The barrister brought an unexceptionable zeal to theperformance of his duties; be referred in suitable terms toDaniel's character and high position in the town, but nothingcould hide the fact that for him too his client was a pettytradesman accused of simple murder. Naturally the Stipendiary wasbound to show that before the law all men are equal--the TownCouncillor and the common tippler; he succeeded. The policemangave his evidence, and the Inspector swore to what Daniel Poveyhad said when charged. The hearing proceeded so smoothly andquickly that it seemed naught but an empty rite, with Daniel as alay figure in it. The Stipendiary achieved marvellously theillusion that to him a murder by a Town Councillor in St. Luke'sSquare was quite an everyday matter. Bail was inconceivable, andthe barrister, being unable to suggest any reason why theStipendiary should grant a remand--indeed, there was no reason--Daniel Povey was committed to the Stafford Assizes for trial. TheStipendiary instantly turned to the consideration of an allegedoffence against the Factory Acts by a large local firm of potters.The young magistrate had mistaken his vocation. With his steelycalm, with his imperturbable detachment from weak humanity, heought to have been a General of the Order of Jesuits.
Daniel was removed--he did not go: he was removed, by two bare-headed constables. Samuel wanted to have speech with him, andcould not. And later, Samuel stood in the porch of the Town Hall,and Daniel appeared out of a corridor, still in the keeping of twopolicemen, helmeted now. And down below at the bottom of the broadflight of steps, up which passed dancers on the nights ofsubscription balls, was a dense crowd, held at bay by otherpolicemen; and beyond the crowd a black van. And Daniel--to hiscousin a sort of Christ between thieves--was hurried past theprivileged loafers in the corridor, and down the broad steps. Amurmuring wave agitated the crowd. Unkempt idlers and ne'er-do-wells in corduroy leaped up like tigers in the air, and thepolicemen fought them back furiously. And Daniel and his guardiansshot through the little living lane. Quick! Quick! For the captiveis more sacred even than a messiah. The law has him in charge! Andlike a feat of prestidigitation Daniel disappeared into theblackness of the van. A door slammed loudly, triumphantly, and awhip cracked. The crowd had been balked. It was as though thecrowd had yelled for Daniel's blood and bones, and the faithfulconstables had saved him from their lust.
Yes, Samuel had qualms. He had a sickness in the stomach.
The aged Superintendent of Police walked by, with the aged Rector.The Rector was Daniel's friend. Never before had the Rector spokento the Nonconformist Samuel, but now he spoke to him; he squeezedhis hand.
"Ah, Mr. Povey!" he ejaculated grievously.
"I--I'm afraid it's serious!" Samuel stammered. He hated to admitthat it was serious, but the words came out of his mouth.
He looked at the Superintendent of Police, expecting theSuperintendent to assure him that it was not serious; but theSuperintendent only raised his small white-bearded chin, sayingnothing. The Rector shook his head, and shook a senile tear out ofhis eye.
After another chat with young Lawton, Samuel, on behalf of Daniel,dropped his pose of the righteous man to whom a mere mishap hasoccurred, and who is determined, with the lofty pride ofinnocence, to indulge all the whims of the law, to be moreroyalist than the king. He perceived that the law must be foughtwith its own weapons, that no advantage must be surrendered, andevery possible advantage seized. He was truly astonished athimself that such a pose had ever been adopted. His eyes wereopened; he saw things as they were.
He returned home through a Square that was more interested thanever in the facade of his cousin's house. People were beginning tocome from Hanbridge, Knype, Longshaw, Turnhill, and villages suchas Moorthorne, to gaze at that facade. And the fourth edition ofthe Signal, containing a full report of what the Stipendiary andthe barrister had said to each other, was being cried.
In his shop he found customers, as absorbed in the trivialities ofpurchase as though nothing whatever had happened. He was shocked;he resented their callousness.
"I'm too busy now," he said curtly to one who accosted him."
"Sam!" his wife called him in a low voice. She was standing behindthe till.
"What is it?" He was ready to crush, and especially to crushindiscreet babble in the shop. He thought she was going to venther womanly curiosity at once.
"Mr. Huntbach is waiting for you in the parlour," said Constance.
"Yes, from Longshaw." She whispered, "It's Mrs. Povey's cousin.He's come to see about the funeral and so on, the--the inquest, Isuppose."
Samuel paused. "Oh, has he!" said he defiantly. "Well, I'll seehim. If he WANTS to see me, I'll see him."
That evening Constance learned all that was in his mind ofbitterness against the memory of the dead woman whose failings hadbrought Daniel Povey to Stafford gaol and Dick to the PirehillInfirmary. Again and again, in the ensuing days, he referred tothe state of foul discomfort which he had discovered in Daniel'shouse. He nursed a feud against all her relatives, and when, afterthe inquest, at which he gave evidence full of resentment, she wasburied, he vented an angry sigh of relief, and said: "Well, SHE'Sout of the way!" Thenceforward he had a mission, religious in itssolemn intensity, to defend and save Daniel. He took theenterprise upon himself, spending the whole of himself upon it, tothe neglect of his business and the scorn of his health. He livedsolely for Daniel's trial, pouring out money in preparation forit. He thought and spoke of nothing else. The affair was his onepreoccupation. And as the weeks passed, he became more and moresure of success, more and more sure that he would return withDaniel to Bursley in triumph after the assize. He was convinced ofthe impossibility that 'anything should happen' to Daniel; thecircumstances were too clear, too overwhelmingly in Daniel'sfavour.
One morning the shop-shutter was wound up, and Brindley, inflatedwith the importance of controlling two establishments, strutted inand out under the sign of Daniel Povey. And traffic in bread andcakes and flour was resumed. Apparently the sea of time had risenand covered Daniel and all that was his; for his wife was underearth, and Dick lingered at Pirehill, unable to stand, and Danielwas locked away. Apparently, in the regular flow of the life ofthe Square, Daniel was forgotten. But not in Samuel Povey's heartwas he forgotten! There, before an altar erected to the martyr,the sacred flame of a new faith burned with fierce consistency.Samuel, in his greying middle-age, had inherited the eternal youthof the apostle.