South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) - Norman Douglas (ebook e reader .TXT) 📗

To Merge

Together--To Glide Into Each Other,  And Then To Separate Again. Mr.

Heard Was Vastly Pleased And Puzzled By The Phenomenon--So Pleased That

He Gave Utterance To One Of The Longest Speeches He Had Made Since His

Arrival On Nepenthe. He Said:

 

"I Have Seen Many Funny Things Here,  Denis. But This Is The Funniest Of

All. The Spectacle Seems To Have Been Providentially Arranged,  As A

Sort Of Bonne Bouche,  For My Last Evening On The Island. Dear Me. Now

There Are Two Again. And Now They Are Behind Each Other Once More. A

Kind Of Celestial Hide And Seek. Most Interesting. I Wish Keith Could

See It. Or That Dear Count Caloveglia. He Would Be Sure To Say

Something Polite. . . . The Inconstant Moon! I Know,  At Last,  What The

Poet Meant By That Expression,  Though The Word Inconstant Strikes Me As

Hardly Forcible Enough. The Skittish Moon,  I Should Be Inclined To Call

It. The Skittish Moon. The Frivolous Moon. The Giddy Moon. The

Quite-Too-Absurd Moon. . . . There It Goes Again! Very Curious. What

Can It Be? . . . Why,  This Is The Reverse Of An Eclipse,  My Boy. The

Disk Is Darkened During An Eclipse. It Disappears In Vacuo. In The

Present Case It Is Brightened And Rendered,  So To Speak,  Doubly

Apparent. What Would You Call The Reverse Of An Eclipse,  Denis?

Anti-Eclipse? That Sounds Rather Barbaric To My Ears. One Should Never

Mix Greek And Latin,  If It Can Possibly Be Avoided. Well?"

 

"We Must Have A Good Look At This Thing From Your Window,  And Then Find

Out All About It."

 

"Oh,  But I Could Not Possibly Take You From Your Friends! I Know My Way

Home Perfectly Well. You Will Not Dream Of Accompanying Me."

 

"Indeed I Will. I Walked With You To That House When You First Arrived

Here,  And Helped You To Unpack. Don't You Remember? And Now You Must

Let Me Take You There On Our Last Evening. . . ."

 

By The Time Denis Returned To The Grotto A More Exuberant And

Incoherent Tone Had Been Generated Among The Guests. He Was Not

Pleased. He Felt Inclined To Be Stern. A Number Of Reprobates From The

Club Had Dropped In,  And Keith,  Whom He Meant To Keep Straight For One

Night At Least,  Was Saying Silly Things And Giving Himself Away. So Was

The Excellent Mr. Richards.

 

"This Is A Good Island," Observed That Gentleman. "We Discourse Like

Sages And Drink Like Swine. Peace With Honour! . . . How That Old Jew

Took Our English Measure,  Eh? How He Laughed In His Sleeve At Our

Infatuation For A Phrase Like That. Peace With Honour! The Sort Of

Claptrap That Makes A Man Feel So Jolly Comfortable Inside,  So Damned

Satisfied With Everything Like After A Good Deed. And That Sentimental

Primrose Business. Dizzy As Flower-Expert! What Cared He For Primroses?

Votes And Moneybags Was What He Was After. But He Knew The British

Public. And That Accounts For The Pious Domestic Button-Hole. Who Ever

Heard Of A Jew Telling The Difference Between A Primrose And Any Other

Kind Of Rose? They're Not Such Blasted Fools."

 

"Excuse Me," Said Keith,  Rising From His Seat In An Afflatus Of

Inspiration. "Excuse Me. I Know The Difference. It Is Primarily A

Question Of Nutrition. Glucose! I Am A Great Believer In Glucose.

Because,  Even If It Could Be Proved That The Monks Of Palaiokastron

Stripped The Vine Of Its Leaves And Thereby Hastened The Maturing Of

The Grape Without Reducing Its Natural Supply Of Sugar--"

 

"You Don't Shine," Interrupted Denis,  "When You Talk Like That."

 

"Because Even If This Could Be Proved,  Which I Greatly Doubt,  Yet

Nothing On Earth Will Make Me Believe That Glucose Is Otherwise Than

Beneficial To Vegetation. Because--"

 

"Do Sit Down,  Keith. You Are Monopolizing The Conversation."

 

"Because The Glucose Resides Within That Verdant Foliage Like Truth In

Her Well,  Like The Oyster Within Its Pearl. The Monks Of

Palaiokastron--They Got It Straight From Noah. I Am A Great Believer In

Glucose. Which Is Absurd. Because--"

 

"Oh,  Shut Up! You Are Making A Perfect Exhibition Of Yourself. Can't

You Oblige Me,  For Once In The Way?"

 

Denis Was Growing Seriously Alarmed For The Reputation Of His Friend.

He Had Changed Of Late; He Was Beginning To Know His Own Mind. He Meant

To Put A Stop To This Humiliating Scene. As The Other,  Regardless Of

His Pleadings,  Continued To Babble Dithyrambic Nonsense Concerning

Glucose And Self-Fertilization And Artificial Manures And Inflorescence

And Assyrian Bas-Reliefs And Stilton Cheese,  He Suddenly Gripped His

Arm And Pulled Him,  With A Crash,  Into His Chair.

 

"Sit Down,  You Double-Distilled Owl!"

 

This Was The First Virile Achievement Of His Young Life,  And Directed

To A Worthy End. For It Was Obvious To The Meanest Intelligence That

Mr. Keith Was Considerably Drunk. Too Surprised To Utter A Word Of

Protest,  The Orator Paused In His Declamation,  Beaming Blandly At

Nobody In Particular. Then He Remarked,  In Quite A Subdued Tone Of

Voice:

 

"We Are All At The Mercy Of Youth. Mr. Richards! Could You Oblige Me

With A Fairy-Tale?"

 

 

 

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Publication Date: 05-19-2014

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