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a personal record-第15章

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friendliness。  〃And meantime try to get the best place you can at



the yearly examinations。〃







The scholastic year came to an end。  I took a fairly good place



at the exams; which for me (for certain reasons) happened to be a



more difficult task than for other boys。  In that respect I could



enter with a good conscience upon that holiday which was like a



long visit pour prendre conge of the mainland of old Europe I was



to see so little of for the next four…and…twenty years。  Such;



however; was not the avowed purpose of that tour。  It was rather;



I suspect; planned in order to distract and occupy my thoughts in



other directions。  Nothing had been said for months of my going



to sea。  But my attachment to my young tutor and his influence



over me were so well known that he must have received a



confidential mission to talk me out of my romantic folly。  It was



an excellently appropriate arrangement; as neither he nor I had



ever had a single glimpse of the sea in our lives。  That was to



come by and by for both of us in Venice; from the outer shore of



Lido。  Meantime he had taken his mission to heart so well that I



began to feel crushed before we reached Zurich。  He argued in



railway trains; in lake steamboats; he had argued away for me the



obligatory sunrise on the Righi; by Jove!  Of his devotion to his



unworthy pupil there can be no doubt。  He had proved it already



by two years of unremitting and arduous care。  I could not hate



him。  But he had been crushing me slowly; and when he started to



argue on the top of the Furca Pass he was perhaps nearer a



success than either he or I imagined。  I listened to him in



despairing silence; feeling that ghostly; unrealized; and desired



sea of my dreams escape from the unnerved grip of my will。







The enthusiastic old Englishman had passedand the argument went



on。  What reward could I expect from such a life at the end of my



years; either in ambition; honour; or conscience?  An



unanswerable question。  But I felt no longer crushed。  Then our



eyes met and a genuine emotion was visible in his as well as in



mine。  The end came all at once。  He picked up the knapsack



suddenly and got onto his feet。







〃You are an incorrigible; hopeless Don Quixote。  That's what you



are。〃







I was surprised。  I was only fifteen and did not know what he



meant exactly。  But I felt vaguely flattered at the name of the



immortal knight turning up in connection with my own folly; as



some people would call it to my face。  Alas!  I don't think there



was anything to be proud of。  Mine was not the stuff of



protectors of forlorn damsels; the redressers of this world's



wrong are made of; and my tutor was the man to know that best。 



Therein; in his indignation; he was superior to the barber and



the priest when he flung at me an honoured name like a reproach。







I walked behind him for full five minutes; then without looking



back he stopped。  The shadows of distant peaks were lengthening



over the Furca Pass。  When I came up to him he turned to me and



in full view of the Finster Aarhorn; with his band of giant



brothers rearing their monstrous heads against a brilliant sky;



put his hand on my shoulder affectionately。







〃Well!  That's enough。  We will have no more of it。〃







And indeed there was no more question of my mysterious vocation



between us。  There was to be no more question of it at all; no



where or with any one。  We began the descent of the Furca Pass



conversing merrily。







Eleven years later; month for month; I stood on Tower Hill on the



steps of the St。 Katherine's Dockhouse; a master in the British



Merchant Service。  But the man who put his hand on my shoulder at



the top of the Furca Pass was no longer living。







That very year of our travels he took his degree of the



Philosophical Facultyand only then his true vocation declared



itself。  Obedient to the call; he entered at once upon the



four…year course of the Medical Schools。  A day came when; on the



deck of a ship moored in Calcutta; I opened a letter telling me



of the end of an enviable existence。  He had made for himself a



practice in some obscure little town of Austrian Galicia。  And



the letter went on to tell me how all the bereaved poor of the



district; Christians and Jews alike; had mobbed the good doctor's



coffin with sobs and lamentations at the very gate of the



cemetery。







How short his years and how clear his vision!  What greater



reward in ambition; honour; and conscience could he have hoped to



win for himself when; on the top of the Furca Pass; he bade me



look well to the end of my opening life?











III







The devouring in a dismal forest of a luckless Lithuanian dog by



my granduncle Nicholas B。 in company of two other military and



famished scarecrows; symbolized; to my childish imagination; the



whole horror of the retreat from Moscow; and the immorality of a



conqueror's ambition。  An extreme distaste for that objectionable



episode has tinged the views I hold as to the character and



achievements of Napoleon the Great。  I need not say that these



are unfavourable。  It was morally reprehensible for that great



captain to induce a simple…minded Polish gentleman to eat dog by



raising in his breast a false hope of national independence。  It



has been the fate of that credulous nation to starve for upward



of a hundred years on a diet of false hopes andwelldog。  It



is; when one thinks of it; a singularly poisonous regimen。  Some



pride in the national constitution which has survived a long



course of such dishes is really excusable。







But enough of generalizing。  Returning to particulars; Mr。



Nicholas B。 confided to his sister…in…law (my grandmother) in his



misanthropically laconic manner that this supper in the woods had



been nearly 〃the death of him。〃  This is not surprising。  What



surprises me is that the story was ever heard of; for granduncle



Nicholas differed in this from the generality of military men of



Napoleon's time (and perhaps of all time) that he did not like to



talk of his campaigns; which began at Friedland and ended some



where in the neighbourhood of Bar…le…Duc。  His admiration of the



great Emperor was unreserved in everything but expression。  Like



the religion of earnest men; it was too profound a sentiment to



be displayed before a world of little faith。  Apart from that he



seemed as completely devoid of military anecdotes as though he



had hardly ever seen a soldier in his life。  Proud of his



decorations earned before he was twenty…five; he refused to
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