the professor at the breakfast table-第19部分

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On　the　next　leaf　would　figure　the　gentleman　with　the　black　coat　and

white　cravat；　as　he　looked　when　he　came　and　entertained　her　with

stories　concerning　the　death　of　various　little　children　about　her

age；　to　encourage　her；　as　that　wicked　Mr。　Arouet　said　about　shooting

Admiral　Byng。　　　Then　she　would　take　her　pencil；　and　with　a　few

scratches　there　would　be　the　outline　of　a　child；　in　which　you　might

notice　how　one　sudden　sweep　gave　the　chubby　cheek；　and　two　dots

darted　at　the　paper　looked　like　real　eyes。



By…and…by　she　went　to　school；　and　caricatured　the　schoolmaster　on　the

leaves　of　her　grammars　and　geographies；　and　drew　the　faces　of　her

companions；　and；　from　time　to　time；　heads　and　figures　from　her　fancy；

with　large　eyes；　far　apart；　like　those　of　Raffaelle's　mothers　and

children；　sometimes　with　wild　floating　hair；　and　then　with　wings　and

heads　thrown　back　in　ecstasy。　　This　was　at　about　twelve　years　old；　as

the　dates　of　these　drawings　show；　and；　therefore；　three　or　four　years

before　she　came　among　us。　　Soon　after　this　time；　the　ideal　figures

began　to　take　the　place　of　portraits　and　caricatures；　and　a　new

feature　appeared　in　her　drawing…books　in　the　form　of　fragments　of

verse　and　short　poems。



It　was　dull　work；　of　course；　for　such　a　young　girl　to　live　with　an

old　spinster　and　go　to　a　village　school。　　Her　books　bore　testimony　to

this；　for　there　was　a　look　of　sadness　in　the　faces　she　drew；　and　a

sense　of　weariness　and　longing　for　some　imaginary　conditions　of

blessedness　or　other；　which　began　to　be　painful。　　She　might　have　gone

through　this　flowering　of　the　soul；　and；　casting　her　petals；　subsided

into　a　sober；　human　berry；　but　for　the　intervention　of　friendly

assistance　and　counsel。



In　the　town　where　she　lived　was　a　lady　of　honorable　condition；

somewhat　past　middle　age；　who　was　possessed　of　pretty　ample　means；　of

cultivated　tastes；　of　excellent　principles；　of　exemplary　character；

and　of　more　than　common　accomplishments。　　The　gentleman　in　black

broadcloth　and　white　neckerchief　only　echoed　the　common　voice　about

her；　when　he　called　her；　after　enjoying；　beneath　her　hospitable　roof；

an　excellent　cup　of　tea；　with　certain　elegancies　and　luxuries　he　was。

unaccustomed　to；　〃The　Model　of　all　the　Virtues。〃



She　deserved　this　title　as　well　as　almost　any　woman。　　She　did　really

bristle　with　moral　excellences。　　Mention　any　good　thing　she　had　not

done；　I　should　like　to　see　you　try！　　There　was　no　handle　of　weakness

to　take　hold　of　her　by；　she　was　as　unseizable；　except　in　her

totality；　as　a　billiard…ball；　and　on　the　broad；　green；　terrestrial

table；　where　she　had　been　knocked　about；　like　all　of　us；　by　the　cue

of　Fortune；　she　glanced　from　every　human　contact；　and　〃caromed〃　from

one　relation　to　another；　and　rebounded　from　the　stuffed　cushion　of

temptation；　with　such　exact　and　perfect　angular　movements；　that　the

Enemy's　corps　of　Reporters　had　long　given　up　taking　notes　of　her

conduct；　as　there　was　no　chance　for　their　master。



What　an　admirable　person　for　the　patroness　and　directress　of　a

slightly　self…willed　child；　with　the　lightning　zigzag　line　of　genius

running　like　a　glittering　vein　through　the　marble　whiteness　of　her

virgin　nature！　　One　of　the　lady…patroness's　peculiar　virtues　was

calmness。　　She　was　resolute　and　strenuous；　but　still。　　You　could

depend　on　her　for　every　duty；　she　was　as　true　as　steel。　　She　was

kind…hearted　and　serviceable　in　all　the　relations　of　life。　　She　had

more　sense；　more　knowledge；　more　conversation；　as　well　as　more

goodness；　than　all　the　partners　you　have　waltzed　with　this　winter　put

together。



Yet　no　man　was　known　to　have　loved　her；　or　even　to　have　offered

himself　to　her　in　marriage。　　It　was　a　great　wonder。　　I　am　very

anxious　to　vindicate　my　character　as　a　philosopher　and　an　observer　of

Nature　by　accounting　for　this　apparently　extraordinary　fact。



You　may　remember　certain　persons　who　have　the　misfortune　of

presenting　to　the　friends　whom　they　meet　a　cold；　damp　hand。　　There

are　states　of　mind　in　which　a　contact　of　this　kind　has　a　depressing

effect　on　the　vital　powers　that　makes　us　insensible　to　all　the

virtues　and　graces　of　the　proprietor　of　one　of　these　life…absorbing

organs。　　When　they　touch　us；　virtue　passes　out　of　us；　and　we　feel　as

if　our　electricity　had　been　drained　by　a　powerful　negative　battery；

carried　about　by　an　overgrown　human　torpedo。



〃The　Model　of　all　the　Virtues〃　had　a　pair　of　searching　eyes　as　clear

as　Wenham　ice；　but　they　were　slower　to　melt　than　that　fickle　jewelry。

Her　features　disordered　themselves　slightly　at　times　in　a　surface…

smile；　but　never　broke　loose　from　their　corners　and　indulged　in　the

riotous　tumult　of　a　laugh；which；　I　take　it；　is　the　mob…law　of　the

features；and　propriety　the　magistrate　who　reads　the　riot…act。　　She

carried　the　brimming　cup　of　her　inestimable　virtues　with　a　cautious；

steady　hand；　and　an　eye　always　on　them；　to　see　that　they　did　not

spill。　　Then　she　was　an　admirable　judge　of　character。　　Her　mind　was　a

perfect　laboratory　of　tests　and　reagents；　every　syllable　you　put　into

breath　went　into　her　intellectual　eudiometer；　and　all　your　thoughts

were　recorded　on　litmus…paper。　　I　think　there　has　rarely　been　a　more

admirable　woman。　　Of　course；　Miss　Iris　was　immensely　and　passionately

attached　to　her。　Well；these　are　two　highly　oxygenated　adverbs；

grateful；suppose　we　say；yes；grateful；　dutiful；　obedient　to　her

wishes　for　the　most　part；perhaps　not　quite　up　to　the　concert　pitch

of　such　a　perfect　orchestra　of　the　virtues。



We　must　have　a　weak　spot　or　two　in　a　character　before　we　can　love　it

much。　　People　that　do　not　laugh　or　cry；　or　take　more　of　anything　than

is　good　for　them；　or　use　anything　but　dictionary…words；　are　admirable

subjects　for　biographies。　　But　we　don't　always　care　most　for　those

flat…pattern　flowers　that　press　best　in　the　herbarium。



This　immaculate　woman；why　could　n't　she　have　a　fault　or　two？

Is　n't　there　any　old　whisper　which　will　tarnish　that　wearisome

aureole　of　saintly　perfection？　　Does　n't　she　carry　a　lump　of　opium　in

her　pocket？　　Is　n't　her　cologne…bottle　replenished　oftener　than　its

legitimate　use　would　require？　　It　would　be　such　a　comfort！



Not　for　the　world　would　a　young　creature　like　Iris　have　let　such

words　escape　her；　or　such　thoughts　pass　through　her　mind。　　Whether　at

the　bottom　of　her　soul　lies　any　uneasy　consciousness　of　an　oppressive

presence；　it　is　hard　to　say；　until　we　know　more　about　her。　　Iris　sits

between　the　Little　Gentleman　and　the　〃Model　of　all　the　Virtues；〃　as

the　black…coated　personage　called　her。　I　will　watch　them　all。



Here　I　stop　for　the　present。　　What　the　Professor　said　has　had　to

make　way　this　time　for　what　he　saw　and　heard。



…And　now　you　may　read　these　lines；　which　were　written　for　gentle

souls　who　love　music；　and　read　in　even　tones；　and；　perhaps；　with

something　like　a　smile　upon　the　reader's　lips；　at　a　meeting　where

these　musical　friends　had　gathered。　　Whether　they　were　written　with

smiles　or　not；　you