the research magnificent-第67章

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our　help。〃　〃Stop　that　man；〃　cried　Benham　suddenly　realizing　his　mistake。　　But　when　the　servants　went　to　stop　the　messenger　their　intentions　were　misunderstood；　and　the　man　dashed　through　the　open　gate　of　the　f　pulling　down　and　trying　again。　　Hope　and　disappointments　and　much　need　for　philosophy。　。　。　。　I　see　myself　now　for　the　little　workman　I　am　upon　this　tremendous　undertaking。　　And　all　my　life　hereafter　goes　to　serve　it。　。　。　。〃　He　turned　his　sombre　eyes　upon　his　friend。　　He　spoke　with　a　grim　enthusiasm。　　〃I'm　a　prig。　　I'm　a　fanatic；　White。　　But　I　have　something　clear；　something　better　worth　going　on　with　than　any　adventure　of　personal　relationship　could　possibly　be。　。　。　。〃　And　suddenly　he　began　to　tell　White　as　plainly　as　he　could　of　the　faith　that　had　grown　up　in　his　mind。　　He　spoke　with　a　touch　of　defiance；　with　the　tense　force　of　a　man　who　shrinks　but　overcomes　his　shame。　　〃I　will　tell　you　what　I　believe。〃　He　told　of　his　early　dread　of　fear　and　baseness；　and　of　the　slow　development；　expansion　and　complication　of　his　idea　of　self…respect　until　he　saw　that　tgarden　and　made　off　down　the　winding　road。　〃Stop　him！〃　cried　Benham；　and　started　in　pursuit；　suddenly　afraid　for　Prothero。　The　Chinese　are　a　people　of　great　curiosity；　and　a　small　pebble　sometimes　starts　an　avalanche。　。　。　。　White　pieced　together　his　conception　of　the　circles　of　disturbance　that　spread　out　from　Benham's　pursuit　of　Prothero's　flying　messenger。　For　weeks　and　months　the　great　town　had　been　uneasy　in　all　its　ways　because　of　the　insurgent　spirits　from　the　south　and　the　disorder　from　the　north；　because　of　endless　rumours　and　incessant　intrigue。　The　stupid　manoeuvres　of　one　European　〃power〃　against　another；　the　tactlessness　of　missionaries；　the　growing　Chinese　disposition　to　meet　violence　and　force　with　violence　and　force；　had　fermented　and　brewed　the　possibility　of　an　outbreak。　　The　sudden　resolve　of　Benham　to　get　at　once　to　Prothero　was　like　the　firing　of　a　mine。　　This　tall；　pale…faced；　incomprehensible　stranger　charging　through　the　narrow　streets　that　led　to　the　pleasure…boats　in　the　south　river　seemed　to　many　a　blue…clad　citizen　like　the　White　Peril　embodied。　Behind　him　came　the　attendants　of　the　rich　man　up　the　hill；　but　they　surely　were　traitors　to　help　this　stranger。　Before　Benham　could　at　all　realize　what　was　happening　he　found　his　way　to　the　river…boat　on　which　he　supposed　Prothero　to　be　detained；　barred　by　a　vigorous　street　fight。　　Explanations　were　impossible；　he　joined　in　the　fight。　For　three　days　that　fight　developed　round　the　mystery　of　Prothero's　disappearance。　It　was　a　complicated　struggle　into　which　the　local　foreign　traders　on　the　river…front　and　a　detachment　of　modern　drilled　troops　from　the　up…river　barracks　were　presently　drawn。　　It　was　a　struggle　that　was　never　clearly　explained；　and　at　the　end　of　it　they　found　Prothero's　body　flung　out　upon　a　waste　place　near　a　little　temple　on　the　river　bank；　stabbed　while　he　was　asleep。　。　。　。　And　from　the　broken　fragments　of　description　that　Benham　let　fall；　White　had　an　impression　of　him　hunting　for　all　those　three　days　through　the　strange　places　of　a　Chinese　city；　along　narrow　passages；　over　queer　Venetian…like　bridges；　through　the　vast　spaces　of　empty　warehouses；　in　the　incense…scented　darkness　of　temple　yards；　along　planks　that　passed　to　the　dark　hulls　of　secret　barges；　in　quick…　flying　boats　that　slipped　noiselessly　among　the　larger　craft；　and　sometimes　he　hunted　alone；　sometimes　in　company；　sometimes　black　figures　struggled　in　the　darkness　against　dim…lit　backgrounds　and　sometimes　a　swarm　of　shining　yellow　faces　screamed　and　shouted　through　the　torn　paper　windows。　。　。　。　　And　then　at　the　end　of　this　confused　effect　of　struggle；　this　Chinese　kinematograph　film；　one　last　picture　jerked　into　place　and　stopped　and　stood　still；　a　white　wall　in　the　sunshine　come　upon　suddenly　round　a　corner；　a　dirty　flagged　passage　and　a　stiff　crumpled　body　that　had　for　the　first　time　an　inexpressive　face。　。　。　。

14

Benham　sat　at　a　table　in　the　smoking…room　of　the　Sherborough　Hotel　at　Johannesburg　and　told　of　these　things。　　White　watched　him　from　an　armchair。　　And　as　he　listened　he　noted　again　the　intensification　of　Benham's　face；　the　darkness　under　his　brows；　the　pallor　of　his　skin；　the　touch　of　red　in　his　eyes。　　For　there　was　still　that　red　gleam　in　Benham's　eyes；　it　shone　when　he　looked　out　of　a　darkness　into　a　light。　　And　he　sat　forward　with　his　arms　folded　under　him；　or　moved　his　long　lean　hand　about　over　the　things　on　the　table。　〃You　see；〃　he　said；　〃this　is　a　sort　of　horror　in　my　mind。　　Things　like　this　stick　in　my　mind。　　I　am　always　seeing　Prothero　now；　and　it　will　take　years　to　get　this　scar　off　my　memory　again。　　Once　before　about　a　horse；　I　had　the　same　kind　of　distress。　　And　it　makes　me　tender；　sore…minded　about　everything。　　It　will　go；　of　course；　in　the　long　run；　and　it's　just　like　any　other　ache　that　lays　hold　of　one。　One　can't　cure　it。　　One　has　to　get　along　with　it。　。　。　。　〃I　know；　White；　I　ought　to　have　sent　that　money；　but　how　was　I　to　know　then　that　it　was　so　imperative　to　send　that　money？　。　。　。　〃At　the　time　it　seemed　just　pandering　to　his　vices。　。　。　。　〃I　was　angry。　　I　shall　never　subdue　that　kind　of　hastiness　altogether。　　It　takes　me　by　surprise。　　Before　the　messenger　was　out　of　sight　I　had　repented。　。　。　。　〃I　failed　him。　　I　have　gone　about　in　the　world　dreaming　of　tremendous　things　and　failing　most　people。　　My　wife　too。　。　。　。〃　He　stopped　talking　for　a　little　time　and　folded　his　arms　tight　and　stared　hard　in　front　of　himself；　his　lips　compressed。　〃You　see；　White；〃　he　said；　with　a　kind　of　setting　of　the　teeth；　〃this　is　the　sort　of　thing　one　has　to　stand。　　Life　is　imperfect。　Nothing　can　be　done　perfectly。　　And　on　the　whole〃　　He　spoke　still　more　slowly；　〃I　would　go　through　again　with　the　very　same　things　that　have　hurt　my　people。　　If　I　had　to　live　over　again。　　I　would　try　to　do　the　things　without　hurting　the　people；　but　I　would　do　the　things　anyhow。　　Because　I'm　raw　with　remorse；　it　does　not　follow　that　on　the　whole　I　am　not　doing　right。　　Right　doing　isn't　balm。　　If　I　could　have　contrived　not　to　hurt　these　people　as　I　have　done；　it　would　have　been　better；　just　as　it　would　be　better　to　win　a　battle　without　any　killed　or　wounded。　　I　was　clumsy　with　them　and　they　suffered；　I　suffer　for　their　suffering；　but　still　I　have　to　stick　to　the　way　I　have　taken。　　One's　blunders　are　accidents。　　If　one　thing　is　clearer　than　another　it　is　that　the　world　isn't　accident…proof。　。　。　。　But　I　wish　I　had　sent　those　dollars　to　Prothero。　。　。　。　　God！　　White；　but　I　lie　awake　at　night　thinking　of　that　messenger　as　he　turned　away。　。　。　。　　Trying　to　stop　him。　。　。　。　〃I　didn't　send　those　dollars。　　So　fifty　or　sixty　people　were　killed　and　many　wounded。　。　。　。　　There　for　all　practical　purposes　the　thing　ends。　　Perhaps　it　will　serve　to　give　me　a　little　charity　for　some　other　fool's　haste　and　blundering。　。　。　。　〃I　couldn't　help　it；　White。　　I　couldn't　help　it。　。　。　。　〃The　main　thing；　the　impersonal　thing；　goes　on。　　One　thinks；　one　learns；　one　adds　one's　contribution　of　experience　and　understanding。　The　spirit　of　the　race　goes　on　to　light　and　comprehension。　　In　spite　of　accidents。　　In　spite　of　individual　blundering。　〃It　would　be　absurd　anyhow　to　suppose　that　nobility　is　so　easy　as　to　come　slick　and　true　on　every　occasion。　。　。　。　〃If　one　gives　oneself　to　any　long　aim　one　must　reckon　with　minor　disasters。　　This　Research　I　undertook　grows　and　grows。　　I　believe　in　it　more　and　more。　　The　more　it　asks　from　me　the　more　I　give　to　it。　When　I　was　a　youngster　I　thought　the　thing　I　wanted　was　just　round　the　corner。　　I　fancied　I　would　find　out　the　noble　life　in　a　year　or　two；　just　what　it　was；　just　where　it　took　one；　and　for　the　rest　of　my　life　I　would　live　it。　　Finely。　　But　I　am　just　one　of　a　multitude　of　men；　each　one　going　a　little　wrong；　each　one　achieving　a　little　right。　　And　the　noble　life　is　a　long；　long　way　ahead。　。　。　。　　We　are　working　out　a　new　way　of　lihere　is　no　honour　nor　pride　for　a　man　until　he　refers　his　life　to　ends　and　purposes　beyond　himself。　　An　aht　rise　instantly　out　of　all　this　squalor　and　evil　temper。　。　。　。　　What　does　all　this　struggle　here　amount　to？　　On　one　side　unintelligent　greed；　unintelligent　resentment　on　the　other；　suspicion　everywhere。　。　。　。　〃And　you　know；　White；　at　bottom　THEY　ALL　WANT　TO　BE　DECENT！　〃If　only　they　had　light　enough　in　their　brains　to　show　them　how。〃It's　such　a　plain　job　they　have　here　too；　a　new　city；　the　simplest　industries；　freedom　from　war；　everything　to　make　a　good　life　for　men；　prosperity；　glorious　sunshine；　a　kind　of　happiness　in　the　air。　　And　mismanagement；　fear；　indulgence；　jealousy；　prejudice；　stupidity；　poison　it　all。　　A　squabble　about　working　on　a　Saturday　afternoon；　a　squabble　embittered　by　this　universal　shadow　of　miner's　phthving　for　mankind；　a　new　rule；　a　new　conscience。　　It's　no　small　job　for　all　of　us。　　There　must　be　lifetimes　of　building　up　and　lifetimes　oristocrat　must　be　loyal。　　So　it　has　ever　been；　but　a　modern　aristocrat　must　also　be　lucid；　there　it　is　that　one　has　at　once　the　demand　for　kingship　and　the　repudiation　of　all　existing　states　and　kings。　　In　this　manner　he　had　come　to　his　idea　of　a　great　world　republic　that　must　replace　the　little　warring　kingdoms　of　the　present；　to　the　conception　of　an　unsee