Active Service by Stephen Crane (reading tree .TXT) 📕

" Good God!" Said Coleman. "You Don'T Mean-"

Nora Smiled rosily At Him. " Oh,  I'M All Right," She

Answered. " Don'T Worry About Your Aunt Nora,  My

Precious Boy. Not For A Minute."

Coleman Was Horrified. " But You Are Not Going to-You

Are Not Going to-"

"Not At All,  Me Son. Not At All," She Answered.

I'M Not Going to Prance. I'M Going to Be As Nice As Pie,

And Just Ride Quietly Along Here With Dear Little Rufus.

Only * * You Know What I Can Do When I Get Started,  So

You Had Better Be A Very Good Boy. I Might Take It Into My

Head To Say Some Things,  You Know."

Bound Hand And Foot At His Stake,  He Could Not Even

Chant His Defiant Torture Song. It Might Precipitate-- In fact,

He Was Sure It Would Precipitate The Grand Smash. But To

The Very Core Of His Soul,  He For The Time Hated nora

Black. He Did Not Dare To Remind Her That He Would

Revenge Himself; He Dared only To Dream Of This Revenge,

But It Fairly Made His Thoughts Flame,  And Deep In his

Throat He Was Swearing an Inflexible Persecution Of Nora

Black. The Old Expression Of His Sex Came To Him, 

" Oh,  If She Were Only A Man ! " She Had

Been A Man,  He Would Have Fallen Upon Her Tooth And Nail. Her

Motives For All This Impressed him Not At All; She Was Simply A

Witch Who Bound Him Helpless With The Pwer Of Her Femininity,

And Made Him Eat Cinders. He Was So Sure That His Face Betrayed

Him That He Did Not Dare Let Her See It. " Well,  What Are You Going

To Do About It ? " He Asked,  Over His Shoulder.

" 0-O-Oh," She Drawled,  Impudently. "Nothing." He Could See

That She Was Determined not To Be Confessed. " I May Do This Or

I May Do That. It All Depends Upon Your Behaviour,  My Dear

Rufus."

As They Rode On,  He Deliberated as To The Best Means Of

Dealing with This Condition. Suddenly He Resolved to Go With

The Whole Tale Direct To Marjory,  And To This End He Half Wheeled

His Horse. He Would Reiterate That He Loved her And Then Explain-

Explain ! He Groaned when He Came To The Word,  And Ceased

Formulation.

The Cavalcade Reached at Last The Bank Of The Aracthus River,

With Its Lemon Groves And Lush Grass. A Battery Wheeled before

Them Over The Ancient Bridge -A Flight Of Short,  Broad Cobbled

Steps Up As Far As The Centre Of The Stream And A Similar Flight

Down To The Other Bank. The Returning aplomb Of The Travellers

Was Well Illustrated by The Professor,  Who,  Upon Sighting this

Bridge,  Murmured : " Byzantine."

This Was The First Indication That He Had Still Within Him A Power

To Resume The Normal.

The Steep And Narrow Street Was Crowded with Soldiers; The

Smoky Little Coffee Shops Were A-Babble With People Discussing

The News From The Front. None Seemed to Heed the Remarkable

Procession That Wended its Way To The Cable Office. Here

Coleman Resolutely Took Precedence. He Knew That There Was

No Good In expecting intelligence Out Of The Chaotic Clerks,  But

He Managed to Get Upon The Wires This Message :

" Eclipse,  New York: Got Wainwright Party; All Well. Coleman."

The Students Had Struggled to Send Messages To Their People

In America,  But They Had Only Succeeded in deepening the

Tragic Boredom Of The Clerks.

When Coleman Returned to The Street He Thought That He Had

Seldom Looked upon A More Moving spectacle Than The

Wainwright Party Presented at That Moment. Most Of The

Students Were Seated in a Row,  Dejectedly,  Upon The Kerb. The

Professor And Mrs. Wainwright Looked like Two Old Pictures,

Which,  After An Existence In a Considerate Gloom,  Had Been

Brought Out In their Tawdriness To The Clear Light. Hot White Dust

Covered everybody,  And From Out The Grimy Faces The Eyes

Blinked,  Red-Fringed with Sleeplessness. Desolation Sat Upon All,

Save Marjory. She Possessed some Marvellous Power Of

Looking always Fresh. This Quality Had Indeed impressed the Old

Lady On The Little Pony Until She Had Said To Nora Black: "That

Girl Would Look Well Anywhere." Nora Black Had Not Been Amiable

In Her Reply.

Coleman Called the Professor And The Dragoman For A Durbar.

The Dragoman Said: "Well,  I Can Get One Carriage,  And We Can

Go Immediate-Lee."

" Carriage Be Blowed! " Said Coleman. " What These People

Need is Rest,  Sleep. You Must Find A Place At Once. These People

Can'T Remain In the Street." He Spoke In anger,  As If He Had

Previously Told The Dragoman And The Latter Had Been

Inattentive. The Man Immediately Departed.

Coleman Remarked that There Was No Course But To Remain In

The Street Until His Dragoman Had Found Them A Habitation. It

Was A Mournful Waiting. The Students Sat On The Kerb. Once

They Whispered to Coleman,  Suggesting a Drink,  But He Told

Them That He Knew Only One Cafe,  The Entrance Of Which Would

Be In plain Sight Of The Rest Of The Party. The Ladies Talked

Together In a Group Of Four. Nora Black Was Bursting with The

Fact That Her Servant Had Hired rooms In arta On Their Outcoming

Journey,  And She Wished mrs. Wainwright And Marjory To Come

To Them,  At Least For A Time,  But She Dared not Risk A Refusal,  And

She Felt Something in mrs. Wainwright'S Manner Which Led her

To Be Certain That Such Would Be The Answer To Her Invitation.

Coleman And The Professor Strolled slowly Up And Down The

Walk.

" Well,  My Work Is Over,  Sir," Said Coleman. " My Paper Told

Me To Find You,  And,  Through No Virtue Of My Own,  I Found You.

I Am Very Glad Of It. I Don'T Know Of Anything in my Life That Has

Given Me Greater Pleasure."

The Professor Was Himself Again In so Far As He Had Lost All

Manner Of Dependence. But Still He Could Not Yet Be Bumptious.

" Mr. Coleman," He Said,  "I Am Placed under Life-Long Obligation

To You. * * * I Am Not Thinking of Myself So Much. * * * My Wife

And Daughter---" His Gratitude Was So Genuine That He Could Not

Finish Its Expression.

" Oh,  Don'T Speak Of It," Said Coleman. " I Really Didn'T Do

Anything at All."

The Dragoman Finally Returned and Led them All To A House

Which He Had Rented for Gold. In the Great,  Bare,  Upper Chamber

The Students Dropped wearily To The Floor,  While The Woman Of

The House Took The Wainwrights To A More Secluded apartment.,

As The Door Closed on Them,  Coleman Turned like A Flash.

" Have A Drink," He Said. The Students Arose Around Him Like

The Wave Of A Flood. "You Bet." In the Absence Of Changes Of

Clothing,  Ordinary Food,  The Possibility Of A Bath,  And In the

Presence Of Great Weariness And Dust,  Coleman'S Whisky

Seemed to Them A Glistening luxury. Afterward They Laid Down

As If To Sleep,  But In reality They Were Too Dirty And

Too Fagged to Sleep. They Simply Lay Murmuring peter Tounley

Even Developed a Small Fever.

It Was At This Time That Coleman. Suddenly Discovered his

Acute Interest In the Progressive Troubles Of His Affair Of The

Heart Had Placed the Business Of His Newspaper In the Rear Of

His Mind. The Greater Part Of The Next Hour He Spent In getting

Off To New York That Dispatch Which Created so Much Excitement

For Him Later. Afterward He Was Free To Reflect Moodily Upon The

Ability Of Nora Black To Distress Him. She,  With Her Retinue,  Had

Disappeared toward Her Own Rooms. At Dusk He Went Into The

Street,  And Was Edified to See Nora'S Dragoman Dodging along In

His Wake. He Thought That This Was Simply Another Manifestation

Of Nora'S Interest In his Movements,  And So He Turned a Corner,

And There Pausing,  Waited until The Dragoman Spun Around

Directly Into His Arms. But It Seemed that The Man Had A Note To

Deliver,  And This Was Only His Oriental Way Of Doing it.

The Note Read: " Come And Dine With Me To-Night." It Was,  Not

A Request. It Was Peremptory. "All Right," He Said,  Scowling at

The Man.

He Did Not Go At Once,  For He Wished to Reflect For A Time And

Find If He Could Not Evolve Some Weapons Of His Own. It Seemed

To Him That All The Others Were Liberally Supplied with Weapons.

A Clear,  Cold Night Had Come Upon The Earth When He

Signified to The Lurking dragoman That He Was In

Readiness To Depart With Him To Nora'S Abode. They Passed

Finally Into A Dark Court-Yard,  Up A Winding staircase,  Across An

Embowered balcony,  And Coleman Entered alone A Room Where

There Were Lights.

His,  Feet Were Scarcely Over The Threshold Before He

Had Concluded that The Tigress Was Now Going to Try

Some Velvet Purring. He Noted that The Arts Of The

Stage Had Not Been Thought Too Cheaply Obvious For

Use. Nora Sat Facing the Door. A Bit Of Yellow Silk

Had Been Twisted about The Crude Shape Of The Lamp,

And It Made The Play Of Light,  Amber-Like,  Shadowy And

Yet Perfectly Clear,  The Light Which Women Love. She

Was Arrayed in a Puzzling gown Of That Kind Of Gre-

Cian Silk Which Is So Docile That One Can Pull Yards Of

It Through A Ring. It Was Of The Colour Of New Straw.

Her Chin Was Leaned pensively Upon Her Palm And The

Light Fell On A Pearly Rounded forearm. She Was

Looking at Him With A Pair Of Famous Eyes,  Azure,  Per-

Haps-Certainly Purple At Times-And It May Be,  Black

At Odd Moments-A Pair Of Eyes That Had Made Many

An Honest Man'S Heart Jump If He Thought They Were

Looking at Him. It Was A Vision,  Yes,  But Coleman'S

Cynical Knowledge Of Drama Overpowered his Sense Of

Its Beauty. He Broke Out Brutally,  In the Phrases Of

The American Street. "Your Dragoman Is A Rubber-Neck.

If He Keeps Darking me I Will Simply Have To

Kick The Stuffing out Of Him."

She Was Alone In the Room. Her Old Lady Had Been

Instructed to Have A Headache And Send Apologies. She Was Not

Disturbed by Coleman'S Words. "Sit Down,  Rufus,  And Have A

Cigarette,  And Don'T Be Cross,  Because I Won'T Stand It."

He Obeyed her Glumly. She Had Placed his Chair Where Not A

Charm Of Her Could Be Lost Upon An Observant Man. Evidently

She Did Not Purpose To Allow Him To Irritate Her Away From Her

Original Plan. Purring was Now Her Method,  And None Of His

Insolence Could Achieve A Growl From The Tigress. She Arose,

Saying softly: "You Look Tired,  Almost Ill,  Poor Boy. I Will Give

You Some Brandy. I Have Almost Everything that I Could Think To

Make Those Daylight People Buy." With A Sweep Of Her Hand

She Indicated the Astonishing opulence Of The Possessions In

Different Parts Of The Room.

As She Stood Over Him With The Brandy There Came Through

The Smoke Of His Cigarette The Perfume Of Orris-Root And Violet.

A Servant Began To Arrange The Little Cold Dinner On A Camp

Table,  And Coleman Saw With An Enthusiasm Which He Could Not

Fully Master,  Four Quart Bottles Of A Notable Brand Of Champagne

Placed in a Rank On The Floor.

At Dinner Nora Was Sisterly. She Watched him,  Waited upon

Him,  Treated him To An Affectionate Inti. Macy For Which He Knew

A Thousand Men Who Would Have Hated him. The Champagne

Was Cold.

Slowly He Melted. By The Time That The Boy Came With Little

Cups Of Turkish Coffee He Was At Least Amiable. Nora Talked

Dreamily. " The Dragoman Says This Room Used to Be Part Of The

Harem Long Ago." She Shot Him A Watchful Glance,  As If She Had

Expected the Fact To Affect Him. "Seems Curious,  Doesn'T It? A

Harem. Fancy That." He Smoked one Cigar And Then Discarded

Tobacco,  For The Perfume Of Orris-Root And Violet Was Making

Him Meditate. Nora Talked on In a Low Voice. She Knew That,

Through Half-Closed lids,  He Was Looking at Her In steady

Speculation. She Knew That She Was Conquering,  But No

Movement Of Hers Betrayed an Elation. With The Most Exquisite

Art She Aided his Contemplation,  Baring to Him,  For