South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) - Norman Douglas (ebook e reader .TXT) 📗
- Author: Norman Douglas
Book online «South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) - Norman Douglas (ebook e reader .TXT) 📗». Author Norman Douglas
With The Warm Recommendation That They Were As Well Adapted As Ever For
Curing Those Ailments To Which The Island Population Was Peculiarly
Liable--Namely, The Consequences Of Excessive Lechery And Alcohol, And
The Discomfort Caused By Ingrowing Toe-Nails.
The Local Deputy, Don Guistino Morena, Had Often Promised His
Nepenthean Constituents To Look Into The Matter And See That Something
Was Done. But He Was A Busy Man. Up To The Present He Had Apparently
Not Moved A Finger.
And Now This Fountain, The Last Survivor Of The Twelve Health-Giving
Springs, Had Suddenly Run Dry. . . .
The Bad News Spread Like Wild-Fire. It Was Regarded--For Reasons Which
Will Presently Appear--As A Portent Of Gravest Significance. The Clergy
Met In Unofficial But Well-Attended Conclave To Deliberate As To What
Attitude Should Be Adopted Towards The Phenomenon, And What Measures
Taken To Allay Popular Apprehensions.
There Was Gossip, Too, At The Club. Most Of Its Members Were Of The
Laissez Faire Or Even Rationalistic Type, And One Of Them--An
Unobtrusive Hindu Who Was Suspected Of Wearing Stays--Went So Far In His
Indifference As To Declare That The Only Result Of The Drying-Up Of The
Fountain Would Be "One Smell Less On Nepenthe." A Small But Compact
Minority, However, Thought Otherwise. Obsessed By Vague Forebodings,
They Found An Able And Eloquent Interpreter Of Their Fears In The
Commissioner Who, Rather Redder In The Face Than Usual, Strode Fussily
Up And Down The Premises, Tugging At His Disreputable Briar Pipe,
Drinking The Whisky With Anybody Who Cared To Pay For It, And Declaring
To All And Sundry That Something Must Be Done. It Was His Panacea--His
Unvarying Formula For Every Emergency, Scandalous Or Otherwise.
Something Must Be Done, He Avowed. And From The Card-Table Came Two
Approving Echoes--The Voices Of Mr. Muhlen And Signor Malipizzo, Who Did
Not Care Tuppence About The Fountain But Never Lost An Opportunity Of
Expressing Their Public Approval Of Mr. Parker's Words And Actions.
Something Must Be Done And That Soon, For In A Few Brief Hours An
Atmosphere Of Gloom, A Sense Of Impending Calamity, Had Begun To Hover
Over The Sunny Island. The Natives Called To Mind, With Consternation,
That Only Once Within The Memory Of Their Ancestors Had The Fountain
Behaved After This Fashion. It Was On The Eve Of That Great Volcanic
Outbreak On The Mainland Which, By A Deadly Shower Of Ashes, Destroyed
Their Crops And Impoverished Them To Such An Extent That For Three
Consecutive Months They Could Barely Afford The Most Unnecessary
Luxuries Of Life. They Opined With Some Show Of Reason That The Little
Streamlet Had Been Tempted By Ancient And Obscure Bonds To Sympathy To
Forsake Its Old Home And Creep Away, Under Leagues Of Shimmering Sea,
Towards The Fiery Heart Of The Volcano; There To Undergo Some Alchemic
Process Of Readjustment, Some Ordeal, Some Torrid Nuptial Rite Which
Would Result In The Birth Of A Flaming Monster And The Ruin Of Mankind.
The Terrace Was Crowded With Folk; All Eyes Were Turned Toward The
Distant Fire-Mountain. But The Volcano Had Never Looked So Placid, So
Harmless, So Attractive; Its Shapely Flanks Suffused With The Crimson
Light Of Evening, While Wreaths Of Violent Vapour Ascended, In Lazy
Intermittent Spirals, From The Cone. They Rose Into The Zenith
Playfully, One After The Other, As Though The Volcano Were Desirous Of
Drawing Attention To Its Pretty Manners, And Were Wafted Onwards, In
Delicate Wisps Of Smoke By The Persistent South Wind. The Clergy Now
Began To Appear In Goodly Numbers Upon The Scene. They Were In The Best
Of Humours And More Ready Than Usual, It Seemed, To Take Part In Any
Conversation Which Might Be Going On. It Had Been Decided, During Their
Informal Gathering, That The Apprehensions Of The Faithful Could Not Be
Better Allayed At This Preliminary Stage Than By A Mild Demonstration
Of This Kind. Appearances Were Everything; So They Had Concluded, Not
For The First Time. And It Was Precisely Then That The Simple-Minded
Parroco, Surrounded By A Knot Of Devout Believers, Pointed To The
Playful Cloudlets Of Smoke As They Issued From The Mouth Of The Crater
And Apposite, But Calculated To Calm The Minds Of His Hearers. He Said
That No Rosy Schoolboy, Smoking His First Cigarette, Ever Looked More
Innocent. An Ominous, Fateful Speech! Yet Such Was His Holy Simplicity
That He Failed To Realize Its Import. He Failed To Perceive How
Inauspicious The Metaphor Had Been Till Don Francesco, In A Whisper,
Pointed Out That Appearances Are Apt To Be Deceptive And, Alluding To
Certain Experiences Of His Own At The Tender Age Of Six Years, Affirmed
That The Smoking Of A First Cigarette, For All Its Seeming
Harmlessness, Is Liable To Be Followed By Something In The Nature Of A
Cataclysm.
There Was Worse To Come. For While The Sun Yet Lingered On The Horizon
News Of Further Portents Came Thick And Fast. A Plum Tree Belonging To
A Farmer Of Good Standing Had Unaccountably Lost All Its Leaves. The
Duchess Arrived In A State Of Unusual Trepidation, Declaring That The
Tortoise-Shell Of Her Lorgnette Gave Forth A Crackling Sound. She
Appealed To Don Francesco To Explain The Meaning Of This Extraordinary
Circumstance; It Crackled Most Distinctly, She Declared. Not Far From
The Little Bay Where Only Yesterday The Streamlet Of Saint Elias Still
Trickled Into The Sea, A Fisherman Had Caught A One-Eyed Lamprey--A
Beast, Unquestionably, Of Ill Repute. The Bibliographer, Strolling
About With Denis, Recollected That His Fox-Terrier That Very Morning
Had Been Violently Sick. He Seemed To Attach No Great Importance To The
Affair; All The Same, He Said, It Was Rather Queer; Dogs Are Not Like
That; Now, If It Had Been Keith. . . . The Baby Of The Principal Grocer
Had Tumbled Downstairs And Thereupon Proceeded To Swallow Eight Of Its
Elder Brother's Marbles Which Had Been Carelessly Left On The
Floor--Without Experiencing, So Far As Could Be Ascertained, Any
Appreciable Injury. A Mysterious Disease, Known As The Scabies, Had
Broken Out Among The Russian Apostles. The Yacht Of The American
Millionaire, Mr. Van Koppen, Arrived That Day; There Was Nothing
Startling In This Since He Visited The Island Year After Year At The
Same Season; But Why Should She Collide With A Fishing-Boat At The
Moment Of Anchoring?
And From The Old Town Came News Of A Portentous Fowl Which Had Suddenly
Assumed The Plumage Of The Male Sex. It Was A Hen Renowned, Hitherto,
For Her Temperate And Normal Habits And, As It Happened, Known By Sight
To The Local Parish Priest, Who, Horrified At The Transformation Of The
Feathered Monster And Mindful Of The Papal Bull Ne Nimis Noceant Nobis
Which Enjoins Upon Christians The Duty Of Destroying All Unnatural
Productions However Generated, Incontinently Ordered It To Be Put Out
Of The Way. But The Destruction Of This Androgyne Proved An Arduous
Task. It Was Reported That The Creature Fought For Its Life With The
Energy Of A Demon, Crowing Vigorously The While And Laying, In The Very
Act Of Death, An Egg--An Egg Of Spheroidal Form, Bluish In Colour, And
Apparently Hard-Boiled--An Egg Which The Chief Medical Officer Of Health
Had No Great Difficulty In Recognizing As That Of A Cockatrice.
In View Of These And Other Sinister Occurrences It Is Not Surprising
That A Sense Of Insecurity Should Have Fallen Upon The More Credulous
Section Of The Natives. Even Sceptical Persons Thought It Rather
Provoking On The Part Of Providence, Or Whoever Managed These Things,
That The Disquieting Of Men's Minds Should Take Place During This
Particular Fortnight, The Most Important Of The Whole Year, Midway
Between The Great Feasts Of Saint Dodekanus And Saint Eulalia When The
Island Was Crammed With Visitors.
And There Followed Late At Night Yet Another Surprise. Mr. Parker Had
Been Called Away From His Duties At The Club In Hot Haste By The News
That His Lady Was Seriously Ill. A Few Days Earlier She Had Been Stung
On The Lip By A Mosquito; No Further Attention Was Paid To The
Incident, Though The Disagreeable South Wind Provoked A Rise In
Temperature And Some Discomfort. On This Afternoon, However, Her Face
Had Suddenly Begun To Assume Strange Tints And To Swell In Wondrous
Fashion. It Was No Already Enlarged To Twice Its Natural Size And
Altogether--In The Words Of The Physician Who Had Been Summoned To Her
Villa--"A Thing To See."
It Had Always Been A Thing To See. So, At Least, Said Those Who Were
Privileged To Know. There Were Tropical Strains In Her Blood-Strains
From Some Flowery Land In The Caribbean Sea-Strains Which Refused To
Mingle In Harmonious Fashion With The White Elements In Her Ancestry.
She Was Neither Lovely Nor Lovable, And It Was Regarded As A Kindly
Dispensation Of Heaven That Some Malformation Of The Lower Limbs Kept
Her Confined To Her Boudoir, Where No Visitors Ever Called Save A Few
Misguided Newcomers To The Island Who Were Unaware Of Her
Idiosyncrasies. These Idiosyncrasies, Due To The Enforced Inactivity Of
Her Feet, Took The Form Of A Grotesque Activity Of The Tongue. Her
Infirmity Preventing Her From Learning How Things Really Stood, She Let
Her Phantasy Run Riot On The Occasional Reports Which Reached The
Villa; And That Phantasy, Nourished By Lack Of Physical Exercise,
Indulged In A Love Of Scandal-Mongering Which Bordered, And Sometimes
Trespassed, On The Pathological. She Distilled Scandal From Every Pore,
And In Such Liberal Quantities That Even The Smiling And Good-Natured
Don Francesco Once Spoke Of Her As "The Serpent In The Paradise." But
Perhaps He Only Said That Because Madame Parker Was Not Over-Fond Of
Him--His Rival The Parroco Being Her Friend And Confessor.
Such Being The Case, The Prospect Of Her Possible Demise Was Received
With Unconcern And Even Relief By All Save A Notable Number Of
Tradesmen Who Prayed Fervently For Her Health Because The Lady,
Presuming On Her Connection With The Official Representative Of The
Friendly State Of Nicaragua, Had Contrived To Owe Them Considerable
Sums Of Money. Knowing The Commissioner As They Did, These Victims
Feared That They Would Never Be Able To Collect Their Due In The Event
Of Her Death. Hence Their Prayers For Her Speedy Recovery.
What Would That Gentleman Do Without Her? For It Was His Redeeming
Feature That He Felt, Or Professed To Feel, Affection For This
Graceless Harridan Who Was The Only Person On Earth That Believed, Or
Professed To Believe, In The Integrity Of His Motives. It Is To Be
Presumed That They Saw Through Each Other Perfectly; She, At Least, May
Well Have Appraised Him At His True Value. She Must Have Known Him For
A Dishonest Fool. Yet This Principle Of Mutual Attachment Was Never
Relinquished. Wiser Than Her Stepbrother, She Knew That A House Divided
Against Itself Must Fall; She Therefore Approved, Forcefully If Without
Conviction, Of His Every Word And Deed. Such Approval Did Him Good. It
Created A Fictitious Self-Esteem. And This Was Really Rather
Unfortunate, Since Self-Esteem, By Giving Him A Sense Of Importance And
Consequence In The World, Rendered Him A Good Deal More Objectionable
To His Fellow-Creatures Than He Need Have Been.
Meanwhile She Lingered On, And A Small Group Of Enquirers Were Gathered
Round The Physician Who Was Returning Late At Night From His Third
Visit. The Moralists Among Them Saw The Finger Of God In The Fact That
Her Mouth, Out Of Which Had Proceeded So Much Harm To Strong Men And
Women, Should Now Be Sealed By One Of The Frailest Of His Creatures.
The Doctor Shrugged His Shoulders At This Kind Of Talk. He Was No
Moralizer; He Was A True Southerner, An Aesthete--One Of Those Who Could
Appreciate The Subtlest Beauty Of A Skin Disease. He Waxed Discursive
On The Subject; Said That The Lady's Face Reminded Him Of The Rainbow
In A Certain Picture By A Local Genius; Avowed That There Were Moments
When Even A Doctor's Hard Life Had Its Compensations, And That This Was
One Of Them.
His Enthusiasm Carried The Audience Off Their Feet. It Converted The
Sternest Preachers Into Artists. They Forgot To Talk About Moral
Lessons. All Congratulated The Good Aesculapius On His Choice Of The
Medical Profession As A Career And His Luck In Beholding A Spectacle
Such As This; Especially When He Added, With Glowing Eloquence, That It
Was Astonishing How So Small An Insect, A Mere Mosquito, Should Be Able
To Produce An Eruption Of This Magnitude And In Colours, Moreover,
Which Would Have Made Titian Or Peter Paul Rubens Burst With Envy.
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