A Voyage Of Consolation - Sara Jeannette Duncan (namjoon book recommendations .txt) 📗

To Be Considered.

 

"We Mustn'T Reproach Each Other,  Must We," I Said Softly. "_I_ Don'T

Bear A Particle Of Malice--Really And Truly."

 

Mr. Mafferton Cast A Glance Of Alarm At Mr. Dod And Miss Portheris,  Who

Were Raptly Exchanging Views As To The Respective Merits Of A Cleek And

A Brassey Shot Given Certain Peculiar Bunkers And A Sandy Green--As If

Two Infatuated People Talking Golf Would Have Ears For Anything Else!

 

"Not On Any Account," He Said Hurriedly.

 

"The Best Quality Of Friendship Sometimes Arises Out Of The Most

Unfortunate Circumstances," I Added. The Sympathy In My Voice Was For

Dicky And Isabel.

 

Mr. Mafferton Looked At Me Expressively And The Carriage Drew Up At The

Catacombs Of St. Callistus. Mrs. Portheris Was Awaiting Us By The Gate,

However,  So In Getting Out I Gave My Hand To Dicky.

 

Inside And Outside The Gate,  How Quiet It Was. Nothing On The Appian Way

But Dust And Sunlight,  Nothing In The Field Within The Walls But

Yellowing Grass And Here And There A Field-Daisy Bending In The Silence.

It Made One Think Of An Old Faded Water-Colour,  Washed In With Tears,

That Clings To Its Significance Though All Its Reality Is Gone. Then We

Saw A Little Bare House To The Left With An Open Door,  And Inside Found

Brothers Demetrius And Eusebius In Trappist Gowns And Ropes,  Who Would

Sell Us Beads For The Profitable Employment Of Our Souls,  And Chocolate

And Photographs,  And Wonderful Eucalyptus Liqueur From The Three

Fountains,  And When We Had Well Bought Would Show Us The City Of The

Long,  Long Dead Of Which They Were Custodians. They Were Both Obliging

Enough To Speak English,  Brother Demetrius Imperfectly And Haltingly,

And Without The Assistance Of Those Four Front Teeth Which Are So

Especially Necessary To A Foreign Tongue,  Brother Eusebius Fluently,  And

With Such Richness Of Dialect That We Were Not At All Surprised To Learn

That He Had Served His Pope For Some Years In The State Of New York.

 

"For De Ladi De Chocolate. Ith It Not?" Said Brother Demetrius,  With An

Inducive Smile. "It Ith De Betht In de Worl',  Dis Chocolate."

 

"Don'T You Believe Him," Said Brother Eusebius,  "He'S Known As The

Oldest Of The Roman Frauds. Wants Your Money,  That'S What He Wants."

Brother Demetrius Shook His Fist In amicable,  Wagging Protest. "That'S

The Way He Goes On,  You Know--Quarrelsome Old Party. But I Don'T Say

It'S Bad Chocolate. Try It,  Young Lady,  Try It."

 

He Handed A Bit To Isabel,  Who Looked At Her Momma.

 

"There Is No Possible Objection,  My Dear," Said Mrs. Portheris,  And She

Nibbled It.

 

Dicky Invested Wildly.

 

"Dese Photograff Dey Are Very Pritty," Remarked Brother Demetrius To

Momma,  Who Was Turning Over Some St. Stephens And St. Cecilias.

 

"He'D Say Anything To Sell Them," Put In brother Eusebius. "He Never

Thinks Of His Immortal Soul,  Any More Than If He Was A Poor Miserable

Heretic. He'Ll Tell You They'Re Originals Next,  Taken By Nero At The

Time. You'Re All Good Catholics,  Of Course?"

 

"We Are Not Any Kind Of Catholics," Said Mrs. Portheris Severely.

 

"I'Ll Give You My Blessing All The Same,  And No Extra Charge. But The

Saints Forbid That I Should Be Selling Beads Made Out Of Their Precious

Bones To Protestants."

 

"I'Ll Take That String," Said Momma.

 

"I Wouldn'T Do It On Any Account," Continued Brother Eusebius,  As He

Wrapped Them Up In blue Paper,  But Momma Still Attaches A Certain Amount

Of Veneration To Those Beads.

 

"And What Can I Do For You,  Sir?" Continued Brother Eusebius To The

Senator,  Rubbing His Hands. "What'Ll Be The Next Thing?"

 

"The Early Christians," Replied Poppa Laconically,  "If It'S All The Same

To You."

 

"Just In Half A Shake. Don'T Hurry Yourselves. They'Ll Keep,  You

Know--They'Ve Kept A Good Long While Already. Now You,  Madam," Said

Brother Eusebius To Mrs. Portheris,  "Have Never Had The Influenza,  I

Know. It Only Attacks People Advanced In Life."

 

"Indeed I Have," Replied That Lady. "Twice."

 

"Is That So! Well,  You Never _Would_ Have Had It If You'D Been Protected

With This Liqueur Of Ours. It'S Death And Burial On Influenza," And

Brother Eusebius Shook The Bottle.

 

"I Consider," Said Mrs. Portheris Solemnly,  "That Eucalyptus In another

Form Saved My Life. But I Inhaled It."

 

"Tho," Ventured Brother Demetrius,  "Tho Did I. But The Wine Ith For

Internal Drinking."

 

"Listen To Him! _E_Ternal Drinking,  That'S What He Means. You Never Saw

Such An Old Boy For The Influenza--Gets It Every Week Or So. How Many

Bottles,  Madam? Just A Nip,  After Dinner,  And You Don'T Know How Poetic

It Will Make You Feel Into The Bargain."

 

"One Bottle," Replied Mrs. Portheris,  "The Larger Size,  Please. Anything

With Eucalyptus In It Must Be Salutary. And As We Are Going Underground,

Where It Is Bound To Be Damp,  I Think I'Ll Have A Little Now."

 

"That'S What I Call English Common-Sense," Exclaimed Brother Eusebius,

Getting Out A Glass. "Will Nobody Keep The Lady Company? It'S Popish,

But It'S Good."

 

Nobody Would. Momma Observed Rather Uncautiously That The Smell Of It

Was Enough,  At Which Mrs. Portheris Remarked,  With Some Asperity,  That

She Hoped Mrs. Wick Would Never Be Obliged To Be Indebted To The

"Smell." "It Is Quite Excellent," She Said,  "_Most_ Cordial. I Really

Think,  As A Precaution,  I'Ll Take Another Glass."

 

"Isn'T It Pretty Strong?" Asked Poppa.

 

 

 

"The Influenza Is Stronger," Replied Mrs. Portheris Oracularly,  And

Finished Her Second Potation.

 

"And Nothing," Said Brother Eusebius Sadly,  "For The Gentleman Standing

Outside The Door,  Who Doesn'T Approve Of Encouraging The Roman Catholic

Church In any Respect Whatever. Dear Me! Dear Me! We Do Get Some Queer

Customers." At Which Mr. Mafferton Frowned Portentously. But Nothing

Seemed To Have Any Effect On Brother Eusebius.

 

"There Are Such A Lot Of You,  And You Are Sure To Be So Inquisitive,

That We'Ll Both Go With You," Said He,  And Took Candles From A Shelf.

Not Ordinary Candles At All--Coils Of Long,  Slender Strips,  With One End

Turned Up To Burn. At The Sight Of Them Momma Shuddered And Said She

Hadn'T Thought It Would Be Dark,  And Took The Senator'S Arm As A

Precautionary Measure. Then We Followed The Monks Eusebius And

Demetrius,  Who Wrapped Shawls Round Their Sloping Shoulders And Hurried

Across The Grass Towards The Little Brick Entrance To The Catacombs,

Shading Their Candles From The Wind That Twisted Their Brown Gowns Round

Their Legs,  With All The Anxiety To Get It Over Shown By Janitors Of

Buildings Of This World.

Chapter 14

At First Through The Square Chambers Of The Early Popes And The Narrow

Passages Lined With Empty Cells,  Nearest To The World Outside,  We Kept

Together,  And It Was Mainly Eusebius Who Discoursed Of The Building Of

The Catacombs,  Which He Informed Us Had A Pagan Beginning.

 

"But Our Blessed Early Bishops Said,  'Why Should The Devil Have All The

Accommodations?' And When Once The Church Got Its Foot In There Wasn'T

Much Room For _Him_. But A Few Pagans There Are Here To This Day In

Better Company Than They Ever Kept Above Ground," Remarked Brother

Eusebius.

 

"Can You Tell Them Apart?" Asked Mr. Dod,  "The Christians And The

Pagans?"

 

"Yes," Replied That Holy Man,  "By The Measurements Of The Jaw-Bone. The

Christians,  You See,  Were Always Lecturing The Other Fellows,  So Their

Jaw-Bones Grew To An Awful Size. Some Of 'Em Are Simply Parliamentary."

 

"Dat," Said Brother Demetrius Anxiously--As Nobody Had Laughed--"Ith A

Joke."

 

"I Noticed The Intention," Said Poppa. "It'S Down In The Guide-Book

That You'Ve Been 'Absolved From The Vow Of Silence'--Is That Correct?"

 

"Right You Are," Said Brother Eusebius. "What About It?"

 

"Oh,  Nothing--Only It Explains A Good Deal. I Guess You Enjoy It,  Don'T

You?"

 

But Brother Eusebius Was Bending Over A Cell In better Preservation Than

Most Of Them,  And Was Illuminating With His Candle The Bones Of The

Dweller In It. The Light Flickered On The Skull Of The Early Christian

And The Tonsure Of The Modern One And Made Comparisons. It Also Cut The

Darkness Into Solid Blocks,  And Showed Us Broken Bits Of Marble,  Faint

Stains Of Old Frescoes,  Strange Rough Letters,  And Where It Wavered

Furthest The Uncertain Lines Of A Graven Cross.

 

"Here'S One Of The Original Inhabitants," Remarked Eusebius. "He'S Been

Here All The Time. I Hope The Ladies Don'T Mind Looking At Him In His

Bones?"

 

"Thee,  You Can Pick Him Up," Said Old Demetrius,  Handing A Thigh-Bone To

Momma,  Who Shrank From The Privilege. "It Ith Quite Dry."

 

"It Seems Such A Liberty," She Said,  "And He Looks So Incomplete Without

It. Do Put It Back."

 

"That'S The Way I Feel," Remarked Dicky,  "But I Don'T Believe He'D Mind

Our Looking At A Toe-Bone. Are His Toe-Bones All There?"

 

"No," Replied Demetrius,  "I Have Count Another Day And He Ith Nine Only.

Here Ith A Few."

 

"It Is Certainly A Very Solemn And Unusual Privilege," Remarked Mr.

Mafferton,  As The Toe-Bones Went Round,  "To Touch The Mortal Remnant Of

An Early Christian."

 

"That Altogether Depends," Said The Senator,  "Upon What Sort Of An Early

Christian He Was. Maybe He Was A Saint Of The First Water,  And Maybe He

Was A Pillar Of The Church That Ran A Building Society. Or,  Maybe,  He

Was Only An Average Sort Of Early Christian Like You Or Me,  In Which

Case He Must Be Very Uncomfortable At The Idea Of Inspiring So Much

Respect. How Are You Going To Tell?"

 

"The Gentleman Is Right," Said Brother Eusebius,  And In considering

Poppa'S Theory In Its Relation To The Doubtful Character Before Them

Nobody Noticed,  Except Me,  The Petty Larceny,  By Richard Dod,  Of One

Early Christian Toe-Bone. His Expression,  I Am Glad To Say,  Made Me

Think He Had Never Stolen Anything Before; But You Couldn'T Imagine A

More Promising Beginning For A Career Of Embezzlement. As We Moved On I

Mentioned To Him That The Man Who Would Steal The Toe-Bone Of An Early

Christian,  Who Had Only Nine,  Was Capable Of Most Crimes,  At Which He

Assured Me That He Hadn'T Such A Thing About Him Outside Of His Boots,

Which Shows How One Wrong Step Leads To Another.

 

We Fell Presently Into Two Parties--Dicky,  Mrs. Portheris,  And I Holding

To The Skirts Of Brother Demetrius. Brother Demetrius Knew A Great Deal

About The Latin Inscriptions And The History Of Pope Damasus And The

Chapel Of The Bishops,  And How They Found The Body Of St. Cecilia,

After Eight Hundred Years,  Fresh And Perfect,  And Dressed In Rich

Vestments Embroidered In Gold; But His Way Of Imparting It Seriously

Interfered With The Value Of His Information,  And We Looked Regretfully

After The Other Party.

 

"Here We Have De Tomb Of Anterus And Fabianus----"

 

"I Think We Should Keep Up With The Rest," Interrupted Mrs. Portheris.

 

"Oh,  I Too,  I Know All Dese Catacomb--I Will Take You Everywheres--And

Here,  Too,  We Have Buried Entychianus."

 

"Where Is Brother Eusebius Taking The Others?" Asked Dicky.

 

"Now I Tell You: He Mith All De Valuable Ting,  He Is Too Fat And Lazy;

Only Joke,  Joke,  Joke. And Here We Has Buried Epis--Martyr. Epis He Wath

_Martyr_."

 

The Others,  With Their Lights And Voices,  Came Into Full View Where Four

Passages Met In a Cubicle. "Oh," Cried Isabel,  Catching Sight Of Us,

"_Do_ Come And See Jonah And The Whale. It'S Too Funny For Anything."

 

"And Where Damathuth Found Here The Many Good Thainth He----"

 

"We Would Like To See Jonah," Entreated Dicky.

 

"Well," Said Brother Demetrius Crossly,  "You Go Thee Him--You Catch Up.

I Will No More. You Do Not Like My Englis' Very Well. You Go With Fat

Old Joke-Fellow,  And I Return The Houth. Bethide,  It Ith The Day Of My

Lumbago." And The Venerable Demetrius,  With Distinct Temper,  Turned His

Back On Us And Waddled Off.

 

We Looked At Each Other In consternation.

 

"I'M Afraid We'Ve Hurt His Feelings," Said Dicky.

 

"You Must Go After Him,  Mr. Dod,  And Apologize," Commanded Mrs.

Portheris.

 

"Do You Suppose He Knows The Way Out?" I Asked.

 

"It _Is_ A Shame," Said Dicky. "I'Ll Go And Tell Him We'D Rather Have

Him Than Jonah Any Day."

 

Brother Demetrius Was Just Turning A Corner. Darkness Encompassed Him,

Lying Thick Between Us. He Looked,  In The Light Of His Candle,  Like

Something Of Rembrandt'S Suspended For A Moment Before Us. Dicky Started

After