st. ives-第14部分

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rising　in　the　midst　two　storeys　high；　with　a　steep…pitched　roof；　

and　sending　out　upon　all　hands　（as　it　were　chapter…houses；　chapels；　

and　transepts）　one…storeyed　and　dwarfish　projections。　　To　add　to　

this　appearance；　it　was　grotesquely　decorated　with　crockets　and　

gargoyles；　ravished　from　some　medieval　church。　　The　place　seemed　

hidden　away；　being　not　only　concealed　in　the　trees　of　the　garden；　

but；　on　the　side　on　which　I　approached　it；　buried　as　high　as　the　

eaves　by　the　rising　of　the　ground。　　About　the　walls　of　the　garden　

there　went　a　line　of　well…grown　elms　and　beeches；　the　first　

entirely　bare；　the　last　still　pretty　well　covered　with　red　leaves；　

and　the　centre　was　occupied　with　a　thicket　of　laurel　and　holly；　in　

which　I　could　see　arches　cut　and　paths　winding。



I　was　now　within　hail　of　my　friends；　and　not　much　the　better。　　The　

house　appeared　asleep；　yet　if　I　attempted　to　wake　any　one；　I　had　no　

guarantee　it　might　not　prove　either　the　aunt　with　the　gold　

eyeglasses　（whom　I　could　only　remember　with　trembling）；　or　some　ass　

of　a　servant…maid　who　should　burst　out　screaming　at　sight　of　me。　　

Higher　up　I　could　hear　and　see　a　shepherd　shouting　to　his　dogs　and　

striding　on　the　rough　sides　of　the　mountain；　and　it　was　clear　I　

must　get　to　cover　without　loss　of　time。　　No　doubt　the　holly　

thickets　would　have　proved　a　very　suitable　retreat；　but　there　was　

mounted　on　the　wall　a　sort　of　signboard　not　uncommon　in　the　country　

of　Great　Britain；　and　very　damping　to　the　adventurous：　SPRING　GUNS　

AND　MAN…TRAPS　was　the　legend　that　it　bore。　　I　have　learned　since　

that　these　advertisements；　three　times　out　of　four；　were　in　the　

nature　of　Quaker　guns　on　a　disarmed　battery；　but　I　had　not　learned　

it　then；　and　even　so；　the　odds　would　not　have　been　good　enough。　　

For　a　choice；　I　would　a　hundred　times　sooner　be　returned　to　

Edinburgh　Castle　and　my　corner　in　the　bastion；　than　to　leave　my　

foot　in　a　steel　trap　or　have　to　digest　the　contents　of　an　automatic　

blunderbuss。　　There　was　but　one　chance　left　…　that　Ronald　or　Flora　

might　be　the　first　to　come　abroad；　and　in　order　to　profit　by　this　

chance　if　it　occurred；　I　got　me　on　the　cope　of　the　wall　in　a　place　

where　it　was　screened　by　the　thick　branches　of　a　beech；　and　sat　

there　waiting。



As　the　day　wore　on；　the　sun　came　very　pleasantly　out。　　I　had　been　

awake　all　night；　I　had　undergone　the　most　violent　agitations　of　

mind　and　body；　and　it　is　not　so　much　to　be　wondered　at；　as　it　was　

exceedingly　unwise　and　foolhardy；　that　I　should　have　dropped　into　a　

doze。　　From　this　I　awakened　to　the　characteristic　sound　of　digging；　

looked　down；　and　saw　immediately　below　me　the　back　view　of　a　

gardener　in　a　stable　waistcoat。　　Now　he　would　appear　steadily　

immersed　in　his　business；　anon；　to　my　more　immediate　terror；　he　

would　straighten　his　back；　stretch　his　arms；　gaze　about　the　

otherwise　deserted　garden；　and　relish　a　deep　pinch　of　snuff。　　It　

was　my　first　thought　to　drop　from　the　wall　upon　the　other　side。　　A　

glance　sufficed　to　show　me　that　even　the　way　by　which　I　had　come　

was　now　cut　off；　and　the　field　behind　me　already　occupied　by　a　

couple　of　shepherds'　assistants　and　a　score　or　two　of　sheep。　　I　

have　named　the　talismans　on　which　I　habitually　depend；　but　here　was　

a　conjuncture　in　which　both　were　wholly　useless。　　The　copestone　of　

a　wall　arrayed　with　broken　bottles　is　no　favourable　rostrum；　and　I　

might　be　as　eloquent　as　Pitt；　and　as　fascinating　as　Richelieu；　and　

neither　the　gardener　nor　the　shepherd　lads　would　care　a　halfpenny。　　

In　short；　there　was　no　escape　possible　from　my　absurd　position：　

there　I　must　continue　to　sit　until　one　or　other　of　my　neighbours　

should　raise　his　eyes　and　give　the　signal　for　my　capture。



The　part　of　the　wall　on　which　（for　my　sins）　I　was　posted　could　be　

scarce　less　than　twelve　feet　high　on　the　inside；　the　leaves　of　the　

beech　which　made　a　fashion　of　sheltering　me　were　already　partly　

fallen；　and　I　was　thus　not　only　perilously　exposed　myself；　but　

enabled　to　command　some　part　of　the　garden　walks　and　（under　an　

evergreen　arch）　the　front　lawn　and　windows　of　the　cottage。　　For　

long　nothing　stirred　except　my　friend　with　the　spade；　then　I　heard　

the　opening　of　a　sash；　and　presently　after　saw　Miss　Flora　appear　in　

a　morning　wrapper　and　come　strolling　hitherward　between　the　

borders；　pausing　and　visiting　her　flowers　…　herself　as　fair。　　THERE　

was　a　friend；　HERE；　immediately　beneath　me；　an　unknown　quantity　…　

the　gardener：　how　to　communicate　with　the　one　and　not　attract　the　

notice　of　the　other？　　To　make　a　noise　was　out　of　the　question；　I　

dared　scarce　to　breathe。　　I　held　myself　ready　to　make　a　gesture　as　

soon　as　she　should　look；　and　she　looked　in　every　possible　direction　

but　the　one。　　She　was　interested　in　the　vilest　tuft　of　chickweed；　

she　gazed　at　the　summit　of　the　mountain；　she　came　even　immediately　

below　me　and　conversed　on　the　most　fastidious　topics　with　the　

gardener；　but　to　the　top　of　that　wall　she　would　not　dedicate　a　

glance！　　At　last　she　began　to　retrace　her　steps　in　the　direction　of　

the　cottage；　whereupon；　becoming　quite　desperate；　I　broke　off　a　

piece　of　plaster；　took　a　happy　aim；　and　hit　her　with　it　in　the　nape　

of　the　neck。　　She　clapped　her　hand　to　the　place；　turned　about；　

looked　on　all　sides　for　an　explanation；　and　spying　me　（as　indeed　I　

was　parting　the　branches　to　make　it　the　more　easy）；　half　uttered　

and　half　swallowed　down　again　a　cry　of　surprise。



The　infernal　gardener　was　erect　upon　the　instant。　　'What's　your　

wull；　miss？'　said　he。



Her　readiness　amazed　me。　　She　had　already　turned　and　was　gazing　in　

the　opposite　direction。　　'There's　a　child　among　the　artichokes；'　

she　said。



'The　Plagues　of　Egyp'！　　I'LL　see　to　them！'　cried　the　gardener　

truculently；　and　with　a　hurried　waddle　disappeared　among　the　

evergreens。



That　moment　she　turned；　she　came　running　towards　me；　her　arms　

stretched　out；　her　face　incarnadined　for　the　one　moment　with　

heavenly　blushes；　the　next　pale　as　death。　　'Monsieur　de。　Saint…

Yves！'　she　said。



'My　dear　young　lady；'　I　said；　'this　is　the　damnedest　liberty　…　I　

know　it！　　But　what　else　was　I　to　do？'



'You　have　escaped？'　said　she。



'If　you　call　this　escape；'　I　replied。



'But　you　cannot　possibly　stop　there！'　she　cried。



'I　know　it；'　said　I。　　'And　where　am　I　to　go？'



She　struck　her　hands　together。　　'I　have　it！'　she　exclaimed。　　'Come　

down　by　the　beech　trunk　…　you　must　leave　no　footprint　in　the　border　

…　quickly；　before　Robie　can　get　back！　　I　am　the　hen…wife　here：　I　

keep　the　key；　you　must　go　into　the　hen…house　…　for　the　moment。'



I　was　by　her　side　at　once。　　Both　cast　a　hasty　glance　at　the　blank　

windows　of　the　cottage　and　so　much　as　was　visible　of　the　garden　

alleys；　it　seemed　there　was　none　to　observe　us。　　She　caught　me　by　

the　sleeve　and　ran。　　It　was　no　time　for　compliments；　hurry　breathed　

upon　our　necks；　and　I　ran　along　with　her　to　the　next　corner　of　the　

garden；　where　a　wired　court　and　a　board　hovel　standing　in　a　grove　

of　trees　advertised　my　place　of　refuge。　　She　thrust　me　in　without　a　

word；　the　bulk　of　the　fowls　were　at　the　same　time　emitted；　and　I　

found　myself　the　next　moment　locked　in　alone　with　half　a　dozen　

sitting　hens。　　In　the　twilight　of　the　place　all　fixed　their　eyes　on　

me　severely；　and　seemed　to　upbraid　me　with　some　crying　impropriety。　　

Doubtless　the　hen　has　always　a　puritanic　appearance；　although　（in　

its　own　behaviour）　I　could　never　observe　it　to　be　more　particular　

than　its　neighbours。　　But　conceive　a　British　hen！









CHAPTER　VIII　…　THE　HEN…HOUSE





I　WAS　half　an　hour　at　least　in　the　society　of　these　distressing　

bipeds；　and　alone　with　my　own　reflections　and　necessities。　　I　was　

in　great　pain　of　my　flayed　hands；　and　had　nothing　to　treat　them　

with；　I　was　hungry　and　thirsty；　and　had　nothing　to　eat　or　to　drink；　

I　was　thoroughly　tired；　and　there　was　no　place　for　me　to　sit。　　To　

be　sure　there　was　the　floor；　but　nothing　could　be　imagined　less　

inviting。



At　the　sound　of　approaching　footsteps；　my　good…humour　was　restored。　　

The　key　rattled　in　the　lock；　and　Master　Ronald　entered；　closed　the　

door　behind　him；　and　leaned　his　back　to　it。



'I　say；　you　know！'　he　said；　and　shook　a　sullen　young　head。



'I　know　it's　a　liberty；'　said　I。



'It's　infernally　awkward：　my　position　is　infernally　embarrassing；'　

said　he。



'Well；'　said　I；　'and　what　do　you　think　of　mine？'



This　seemed　to　pose　him　entirely；　and　he　remained　gazing　upon　me　

with　a　convincing　air　of　youth　and　innocence。　　I　could　have　

laughed；　but　I　was　not　so　inhumane。



'I　am　in　your　hands；'　said　I；　with　a　little　gesture。　　'You　must　do　

with　me　what　you　think　right。'



'Ah；　yes！'　he　cried：　'if　I　knew！'



'You　see；'　said　I；　'it　would　be　different　if　you　had　received　your　

commission。　　Properly　speaking；　you　are　not　yet　a　combatant；　I　have　

ceased　to　be　one；　and　I　think　it　arguable　that　we　are　just