W. Somerset Maugham: Novels, Short Stories, Plays & Travel Sketches (33 Titles In One Edition). Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the Colonel for a moment was speechless. His face grew red, and his dyed eyebrows stood up in a fury of indignation.

      "Impossible!" he spluttered at last.

      "You'd better drink a little water, Reggie dear," said his wife. "You look as if you were going to have a fit."

      "I won't have it," he shouted, bringing his fist down on the table so that the cheese-plates clattered and the biscuits danced a rapid jig. "I'll make him marry you. He forgets he has me to deal with! I disapproved of the match from the beginning, didn't I, Clara? I said I would never allow my daughter to marry beneath her."

      "Papa!"

      "Don't talk to me, Mary! Do you mean to deny that James Parsons is infantry, or that his father was infantry before him? But he shall marry you now. By George! he shall marry you if I have to lead him to the altar by the scruff of his neck!"

      Neglecting his cheese, the Colonel sprang to his feet and walked to and fro, vehemently giving his opinion of James, his father, and all his ancestors; of the regiments to which they had belonged, and all else that was theirs. He traced their origin from a pork butcher's shop, and prophesied their end, ignominiously, in hell. Every now and then he assured Mary that she need have no fear; the rascal should marry her, or die a violent death.

      "But there's nothing more to be said now, papa. We've agreed quite amicably to separate. All I want you to do is to treat him as if nothing had happened."

      "I'll horsewhip him," said Colonel Clibborn. "He's insulted you, and I'll make him beg your pardon on his bended knees. Clara, where's my horsewhip?"

      "Papa, do be reasonable!"

      "I am reasonable, Mary," roared the gallant soldier, becoming a rich purple. "I know my duty, thank God! and I'm going to do it. When a man insults my daughter, it's my duty, as a gentleman and an officer, to give him a jolly good thrashing. When that twopenny sawbones of a doctor was rude to you, I licked him within an inch of his life. I kicked him till he begged for mercy; and if more men had the courage to take the law into their own hands, there'd be fewer damned blackguards in the world."

      As a matter of fact, the Colonel had neither thrashed nor kicked the doctor, but it pleased him to think he had. Moralists teach us that the intention is praiseworthy, rather than the brutal act; consequently, there could be no objection if the fearless cavalryman took credit for things which he had thought of doing, but, from circumstances beyond his control, had not actually done.

      Mary felt no great alarm at her father's horrid threats, for she knew him well, but still was doubtful about her mother.

      "You will treat James as you did before, won't you, mamma?"

      Mrs. Clibborn smiled, a portly seraph.

      "My dear, I trust I am a gentlewoman."

      "He shall never darken my doors again!" cried the Colonel. "I tell you, Clara, keep him out of my way. If I meet him I won't be responsible for my actions; I shall knock him down."

      "Reggie dear, you'll have such dreadful indigestion if you don't calm down. You know it always upsets you to get excited immediately after meals."

      "It's disgraceful! I suppose he forgets all those half-crowns I gave him when he was a boy, and the cigars, and the port wine he's had since. I opened a special bottle for him only the night before last. I'll never sit down to dinner with him again—don't ask me to, Clara.... It's the confounded impertinence of it which gets over me. But he shall marry you, my dear; or I'll know the reason why."

      "You can't have him up for breach of promise, Reggie," cooed Mrs. Clibborn.

      "A gentleman takes the law in his own hands in these matters. Ah, it's a pity the good old days have gone when they settled such things with cold steel!"

      And the Colonel, to emphasise his words, flung himself into the appropriate attitude, throwing his left hand up behind his head, and lunging fiercely with the right.

      "Go and look for my pince-nez, my dear," said Mrs. Clibborn, turning to Mary. "I think they're in my work-basket or in your father's study."

      Mary was glad to leave the room, about which the Colonel stamped in an ever-increasing rage, pausing now and then to take a mouthful of bread and cheese. The request for the glasses was Mrs. Clibborn's usual way of getting rid of Mary, a typical subterfuge of a woman who never, except by chance, put anything straightforwardly.... When the door was closed, the buxom lady clasped her hands, and cried:

      "Reginald! Reginald! I have a confession to make."

      "What's the matter with you?" said the Colonel, stopping short.

      "I am to blame for this, Reginald." Mrs. Clibborn threw her head on one side, and looked at the ceiling as the only substitute for heaven. "James Parsons has jilted Mary—on my account."

      "What the devil have you been doing now?"

      "Oh, forgive me, Reginald!" she cried, sliding off the chair and falling heavily on her knees. "It's not my fault: he loves me."

      "Fiddlesticks!" said her husband angrily, walking on again.

      "It isn't, Reginald. How unjust you are to me!"

      The facile tears began to flow down Mrs. Clibborn's well-powdered cheeks.

      "I know he loves me. You can't deceive a woman and a mother."

      "You're double his age!"

      "These boys always fall in love with women older than themselves; I've noticed it so often. And he's almost told me in so many words, though I'm sure I've given him no encouragement."

      "Fiddlesticks, Clara!"

      "You wouldn't believe me when I told you that poor Algy Turner loved me, and he killed himself."

      "Nothing of the kind; he died of cholera."

      "Reginald," retorted Mrs. Clibborn, with asperity, "his death was most mysterious. None of the doctors understood it. If he didn't poison himself, he died of a broken heart. And I think you're very unkind to me."

      With some difficulty, being a heavy woman, she lifted herself from the floor; and by the time she was safely on her feet, Mrs. Clibborn was blowing and puffing like a grampus.

      The Colonel, whose mind had wandered to other things, suddenly bethought himself that he had a duty to perform.

      "Where's my horsewhip, Clara? I command you to give it me."

      "Reginald, if you have the smallest remnant of affection for me, you will not hurt this unfortunate young man. Remember that Algy Turner killed himself. You can't blame him for not wanting to marry poor Mary. My dear, she has absolutely no figure. And men are so susceptible to those things."

      The Colonel stalked out of the room, and Mrs. Clibborn sat down to meditate.

      "I thought my day for such things was past," she murmured. "I knew it all along. The way he looked at me was enough—we women have such quick perceptions! Poor boy, how he must suffer!"

      She promised herself that no harsh word of hers should drive James into the early grave where СКАЧАТЬ