The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best e reader for epub .txt) 📕

Refreshed His Muscles,  But His Spirit Remained Weary. For A Month He Had

Thought Of Nothing But That Race--Even Cynthia Had Become Strangely

Insignificant In Comparison With It--And Now That The Race Had Been Run

And Lost,  His Whole Spirit Sagged And Drooped.

He Was Pounded On The Back; His Hand Was Grasped And Shaken Until It

Ached; He Was Cheered To An Echo By The Thrilled Sanford Men; But Still

His Depression Remained. He Had Won His Letter,  He Had Run A Magnificent

Race,  All Sanford Sang His Praise--Norry Parker Had Actually Cried With

Excitement And Delight--But He Felt That He Had Failed; He Had Not

Justified Himself.

A Few Days Later He Entered Henley's Office,  Intending To Make Only A

Brief Visit. Henley Congratulated Him. "You Were Wonderful,  Hugh," He

Said Enthusiastically. "The Way That You Crawled Up On Him The Last

Hundred Yards Was Thrilling. I Shouted Until I Was Hoarse. I Never Saw

Any One Fight More Gamely. He's A Faster Man Than You Are,  But You

Almost Beat Him. I Congratulate You--Excuse The Word,  Please--On Your

Guts."

Somehow Hugh Couldn't Stand Henley's Enthusiasm. Suddenly He Blurted Out

The Whole Story,  His Drunkenness At The Prom,  His Split With Cynthia--He

Did Not Mention The Visit To Norry's Room--His Determination To Redeem

Himself,  His Feeling That If He Had Won That Race He Would At Least Have

Justified His Existence At The College,  And,  Finally,  His Sense Of

Failure.

Henley Listened Sympathetically,  Amused And Touched By The Boy's Naive

Philosophy. He Did Not Tell Him That The Race Was Relatively

Unimportant--He Was Sure That Hugh Would Find That Out For Himself--But

He Did Bring Him Comfort.

"You Did Not Fail,  Hugh," He Said Gently; "You Succeeded Magnificently.

As For Serving Your College,  You Can Always Serve It Best By Being

Yourself,  Being True To Yourself,  I Mean,  And That Means Being The Very

Fine Gentleman That You Are." He Paused A Minute,  Aware That He Must Be

Less Personal; Hugh Was Red To The Hair And Gazing Unhappily At The

Floor.

"You Must Read Browning," He Went On,  "And Learn About His

Success-In-Failure Philosophy. He Maintains That It Is Better To Strive

For A Million And Miss It Than To Strive For A Hundred And Get It. 'A

Man's Reach Should Exceed His Grasp Or What's A Heaven For?' He Says It

In A Dozen Different Ways. It's The Man Who Tries Bravely For Something

Beyond His Power That Gets Somewhere,  The Man Who Really Succeeds. Well,

You Tried For Something Beyond Your Power--To Beat Calvert,  A Really

Great Runner. You Tried To Your Utmost; Therefore,  You Succeeded. I

Admire Your Sense Of Failure; It Means That You Recognize An Ideal. But

I Think That You Succeeded. You May Not Have Quite Justified Yourself To

Yourself,  But You Have Proved Capable Of Enduring A Hard Test Bravely.

You Have No Reason To Be Depressed,  No Reason To Be Ashamed."

They Talked For A Long Time,  And Finally Henley Confessed That He

Thought Cynthia Had Been Wise In Taking Herself Out Of Hugh's Life.

"I Can See," He Saidspite?

  I Cannot Sleep At Night

  And Meet Her Dreaming;

  I Cannot See The Sketch

  While Tears Are Streaming.

_Mishrakeshi_. My Friend,  You Have Indeed Atoned--And In Her Friend's

Presence--For The Pain You Caused By Rejecting Dear Shakuntala.

(_Enter The Maid_ Chaturika.)

_Maid_. Your Majesty,  I Was Coming Back With The Box Of

Paint-Brushes----

_King_. Well?

_Maid_. I Met Queen Vasumati With The Maid Pingalika. And The Queen

Snatched The Box From Me,  Saying: "I Will Take It To The King Myself."

_Clown_. How Did You Escape?

_Maid_. The Queen's Dress Caught On A Vine. And While Her Maid Was

Setting Her Free,  I Excused Myself In A Hurry. _A Voice Behind The

Scenes_. Follow Me,  Your Majesty.

_Clown_ (_Listening_). Man,  The She-Tiger Of The Palace Is Making A

Spring On Her Prey. She Means To Make One Mouthful Of The Maid.

_King_. My Friend,  The Queen Has Come Because She Feels Touched In Her

Honour. You Had Better Take Care Of This Picture.

_Clown_. "And Yourself," You Might Add. (_He Takes The Picture And

Rises_.) If You Get Out Of The Trap Alive,  Call For Me At The Cloud

Balcony. And I Will Hide The Thing There So That Nothing But A Pigeon

Could Find It. (_Exit On The Run_.)

_Mishrakeshi_. Though His Heart Is Given To Another,  He Is Courteous

To His Early Flame. He Is A Constant Friend.

(_Enter The Portress With A Document_.)

_Portress_. Victory To Your Majesty.

_King_. Vetravati,  Did You Not Meet Queen Vasumati?

_Portress_. Yes,  Your Majesty. But She Turned Back When She Saw That I

Carried A Document.

_King_. The Queen Knows Times And Seasons. She Will Not Interrupt

Business.

_Portress_. Your Majesty,  The Minister Sends Word That In The Press Of

Various Business He Has Attended To Only One Citizen's Suit. This He

Has Reduced To Writing For Your Majesty's Perusal.

_King_. Give Me The Document. (_The Portress Does So_.)

_King_ (_Reads_). "Be It Known To His Majesty. A Seafaring Merchant

Named Dhanavriddhi Has Been Lost In A Shipwreck. He Is Childless,  And

His Property,  Amounting To Several Millions,  Reverts To The Crown.

Will His Majesty Take Action?" (_Sadly_.) It Is Dreadful To Be

Childless. Vetravati,  He Had Great Riches. There Must Be Several

Wives. Let Inquiry Be Made. There May Be A Wife Who Is With Child.

_Portress_. We Have This Moment Heard That A Merchant's Daughter Of

Saketa Is His Wife. And She Is Soon To Become A Mother.

_King_. The Child Shall Receive The Inheritance. Go,  Inform The

Minister.

_Portress_. Yes,  Your Majesty. (_She Starts To Go_.)

_King_. Wait A Moment.

_Portress_ (_Turning Back_). Yes,  Your Majesty. _King_. After All,

What Does It Matter Whether He Have Issue Or Not?

  Let King Dushyanta Be Proclaimed

  To Every Sad Soul Kin

  That Mourns A Kinsman Loved And Lost,

  Yet Did Not Plunge In Sin.

_Portress_. The Proclamation Shall Be Made. (_She Goes Out And Soon

Returns_.) Your Majesty,  The Royal Proclamation Was Welcomed By The

Populace As Is A Timely Shower.

_King_ (_Sighing Deeply_). Thus,  When Issue Fails,  Wealth Passes,  On

The Death Of The Head Of The Family,  To A Stranger. When I Die,  It

Will Be So With The Glory Of Puru's Line.

_Portress_. Heaven Avert The Omen!

_King_. Alas! I Despised The Happiness That Offered Itself To Me.

_Mishrakeshi_. Without Doubt,  He Has Dear Shakuntala In Mind When He

Thus Reproaches Himself.

_King_.

  Could I Forsake The Virtuous Wife

  Who Held My Best,  My Future Life

  And Cherished It For Glorious Birth,

  As Does The Seed-Receiving Earth?

_Mishrakeshi_. She Will Not Long Be Forsaken.

_Maid_ (_To The Portress_). Mistress,  The Minister's Report Has

Doubled Our Lord's Remorse. Go To The Cloud Balcony And Bring Madhavya

To Dispel His Grief.

_Portress_. A Good Suggestion. (_Exit_.)

_King_. Alas! The Ancestors Of Dushyanta Are In A Doubtful Case.

  For I Am Childless,  And They Do Not Know,

  When I Am Gone,  What Child Of Theirs Will Bring

  The Scriptural Oblation; And Their Tears

  Already Mingle With My Offeen I Am Gone,  What Child Of Theirs Will Bring

  The Sk That

Gates Had So Splendidly Started. Nu Delta Was In The Throes Of One Of

Those Changes So Characteristic Of Fraternities.

Hugh Spent His Last College Vacation At Home,  Working On The Farm,

Reading,  Occasionally Dancing At Corley Lake,  And Thinking A Great Deal.

He Saw Janet Harton,  Now Janet Moffitt,  Several Times At The Lake And

Wondered How He Could Ever Have Adored Her. She Was Still Childlike,

Still Dainty And Pretty,  But To Hugh She Was Merely A Talking Doll,  And

He Felt A Little Sorry For Her Burly,  Rather Stupid Husband Who Lumbered

About After Her Like A Protecting Watch-Dog.

He Met Plenty Of Pretty Girls At The Lake,  But,  As He Said,  He Was "Off

Women For Good." He Was Afraid Of Them; He Had Been Severely Burnt,  And

While The Fire Still Fascinated Him,  It Frightened Him,  Too. Women,  He

Was Sure,  Were Shallow Creatures,  Dangerous To A Man's Peace Of Mind And

Self-Respect. They Were All Right To Dance With And Pet A Bit; But That

Was All,  Absolutely All.

He Thought A Lot About Girls That Summer And Even More About His Life

After Graduation From College. What Was He Going To Do? Life Stretched

Ahead Of Him For One Year Like A Smooth,  Flowered Plain--And Then The

Abyss. He Felt Prepared To Do Nothing At All,  And He Was Not Swept By An

Overpowering Desire To Do Anything In Particular. Writing Had The

Greatest Appeal For Him,  But He Doubted His Ability. Teach? Perhaps. But

Teaching Meant Graduate Work. Well,  He Would See What The Next Year At

College Would Show. He Was Going To Take A Course In Composition With

Professor Henley,  And If Henley Thought His Gifts Warranted It,  He Would

Ask His Father For A Year Or Two Of Graduate Work At Harvard.

College Was Pleasant That Last Year. It Was Pleasant To Wear A Blue

Sweater With An Orange S On It; It Was Pleasant,  Too,  To Wear A Small

White Hat That Had A Blue B On The Crown,  The Insignia Of The Boulé And

A Sign That He Was A Person To Be Respected And Obeyed; It Was Pleasant

To Be Spoken To By The Professors As One Who Had Reached Something

Approaching Manhood; Life Generally Was Pleasant,  Not So Exciting As The

Three Preceding Years But Fuller And Richer. Early In The First Term He

Was Elected To Helmer,  An Honor Society That Possessed A Granite "Tomb,"

A Small Windowless Building In Which The Members Were Supposed To

Discuss Questions Of Great Importance And Practice Secret Rites Of

Awe-Inspiring Wonder. As A Matter Of Fact,  The Monthly Meetings Were

Nothing But "Bull Fests," Or As One Cynical Member Put It,  "We Wear A

Gold Helmet On Our Sweaters And Chew The Fat Once A Month." True

Enough,  But That Gold Helmet Glittered Enticingly In The Eyes Of Every

Student Who Did Not Possess One.

For The First Time Hugh's Studies Meant More To Him Than The

Undergraduate Life. He Had Chosen His Instructors Carefully,  Having

Learned From Three Years Of Experience That The Instructor Was Far More

Important Than The Title Of The Course. He Had Three Classes In

Literature,  One In Music--Partly Because It Was A "Snap" And Partly

Because He Really Wanted To Know More About Music--And His Composition

Course With Henley,  To Him The Most Important Of The Lot.

He Really Studied,  And At The End Of The First Term Received Three A's

And Two B's,  A Very Creditable Record. What Was More Important Than His

Record,  However,  Was The Fact That He Was Really Enjoying His Work; He

Was Intellectually Awakened And Hungry For Learning.

Also,  For The First Time He Really Enjoyed The Fraternity. Jack Lawrence

Was Proving An Able President,  And Nu Delta Pledged A Freshman

Delegation Of Which Hugh Was Genuinely Proud. There Were Plenty Of Men

In The Chapter Whom He Did Not Like Or Toward Whom He Was Indifferent,

But He Had Learned To Ignore Them And Center His Interest In Those Men

Whom He Found Congenial.

The First Term Was Ideal,  But The Second Became A Maelstrom Of Doubt And

Trouble In Which He Whirled Madly Around Trying To Find Some Philosophy

That Would Solve His Difficulties.

When Norry Returned To College After The Christmas Vacation,  He Told

Hugh That He Had Seen Cynthia. Naturally,  Hugh Was Interested,  And The

Mere Mention Of Cynthia's Name Was Still Enough To Quicken His Pulse.

"How Did She Look?" He Asked Eagerly.

"Awful."

"What! What's The Matter? Is She Sick?"

Norry Shook His Head. "No,  I Don't Think She Is Exactly Sick," He Said

Gravely,  "But Something Is The Matter With Her. You Know,  She Has Been

Going An Awful Pace,  Tearing Around Like Crazy. I Told You That,  I Know,

When I Came Back In The Fall. Well,  She's Kept It Up,  And I Guess She's

About All In. I Couldn't Understand It. Cynthia's Always Run With A Fast

Bunch,  But She's Never Had A Bad Name. She's Beginning To Get One Now."

"No!" Hugh Was Honestly