South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) by Norman Douglas (novels for students TXT) π
The Bishop Was Feeling Rather Sea-Sick. Confoundedly Sea-Sick, In Fact.
This Annoyed Him. For He Disapproved Of Sickness In Every Shape Or
Form. His Own State Of Body Was Far From Satisfactory At That Moment;
Africa--He Was Bishop Of Bampopo In The Equatorial Regions--Had Played
The Devil With His Lower Gastric Department And Made Him Almost An
Invalid; A Circumstance Of Which He Was Nowise Proud, Seeing That
Ill-Health Led To Inefficiency In All Walks Of Life. There Was Nothing
He Despised More Than Inefficiency. Well Or Ill, He Always Insisted On
Getting Through His Tasks In A Businesslike Fashion. That Was The Way
To Live, He Used To Say. Get Through With It. Be Perfect Of Your Kind,
Whatever That Kind May Be. Hence His Sneaking Fondness For The
Natives--They Were Such Fine, Healthy Animals.
Read free book Β«South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) by Norman Douglas (novels for students TXT) πΒ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Norman Douglas
Read book online Β«South Wind(Fiscle Part-3) by Norman Douglas (novels for students TXT) πΒ». Author - Norman Douglas
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?"
Imprint
Publication Date: 05-19-2014
All Rights Reserved
Comments (0)