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the poet at the breakfast table-第45部分
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pars magna fui; I find myself all at once exclaiming in mental
articulation; Popgun! When my friend the story…teller begins that
protracted narrative which has often emptied me of all my voluntary
laughter for the evening; he has got but a very little way when I say
to myself; What wouldn't I give for a pellet from that popgun! In
short; so useful has that trivial implement proved as a jaw…stopper
and a boricide; that I never go to a club or a dinner…party; without
wishing the company included our Scheherezade and That Boy with his
popgun。
How clearly I see now into the mechanism of the Young Girl's
audacious contrivance for regulating our table…talk! Her brain is
tired half the time; and she is too nervous to listen patiently to
what a quieter person would like well enough; or at least would not
be annoyed by。 It amused her to invent a scheme for managing the
headstrong talkers; and also let off a certain spirit of mischief
which in some of these nervous girls shows itself in much more
questionable forms。 How cunning these half…hysteric young persons
are; to be sure! I had to watch a long time before I detected the
telegraphic communication between the two conspirators。 I have no
doubt she had sedulously schooled the little monkey to his business;
and found great delight in the task of instruction。
But now that our Scheherezade has become a scholar instead of a
teacher; she seems to be undergoing a remarkable transformation。
Astronomy is indeed a noble science。 It may well kindle the
enthusiasm of a youthful nature。 I fancy at times that I see
something of that starry light which I noticed in the young man's
eyes gradually kindling in hers。 But can it be astronomy alone that
does it? Her color comes and goes more readily than when the old
Master sat next her on the left。 It is having this young man at her
side; I suppose。 Of course it is。 I watch her with great; I may say
tender interest。 If he would only fall in love with her; seize upon
her wandering affections and fancies as the Romans seized the Sabine
virgins; lift her out of herself and her listless and weary
drudgeries; stop the outflow of this young life which is draining
itself away in forced literary labordear me; dear meif; if; if
〃If I were God
An' ye were Martin Elginbrod!〃
I am afraid all this may never be。 I fear that he is too much given
to lonely study; to self…companionship; to all sorts of questionings;
to looking at life as at a solemn show where he is only a spectator。
I dare not build up a romance on what I have yet seen。 My reader
may; but I will answer for nothing。 I shall wait and see。
The old Master and I have at last made that visit to the Scarabee
which we had so long promised ourselves。
When we knocked at his door he came and opened it; instead of saying;
Come in。 He was surprised; I have no doubt; at the sound of our
footsteps; for he rarely has a visitor; except the little monkey of a
boy; and he may have thought a troop of marauders were coming to rob
him of his treasures。 Collectors feel so rich in the possession of
their rarer specimens; that they forget how cheap their precious
things seem to common eyes; and are as afraid of being robbed as if
they were dealers in diamonds。 They have the name of stealing from
each other now and then; it is true; but many of their priceless
possessions would hardly tempt a beggar。 Values are artificial: you
will not be able to get ten cents of the year 1799 for a dime。
The Scarabee was reassured as soon as he saw our faces; and he
welcomed us not ungraciously into his small apartment。 It was hard
to find a place to sit down; for all the chairs were already occupied
by cases and boxes full of his favorites。 I began; therefore;
looking round the room。 Bugs of every size and aspect met my eyes
wherever they turned。 I felt for the moment as I suppose a man may
feel in a fit of delirium tremens。 Presently my attention was drawn
towards a very odd…looking insect on the mantelpiece。 This animal
was incessantly raising its arms as if towards heaven and clasping
them together; as though it were wrestling in prayer。
Do look at this creature;I said to the Master; he seems to be very
hard at work at his devotions。
Mantas religiosa;said the Master;I know the praying rogue。
Mighty devout and mighty cruel; crushes everything he can master; or
impales it on his spiny shanks and feeds upon it; like a gluttonous
wretch as he is。 I have seen the Mantis religiosa on a larger scale
than this; now and then。 A sacred insect; sir;sacred to many
tribes of men; to the Hottentots; to the Turks; yes; sir; and to the
Frenchmen; who call the rascal prie dieu; and believe him to have
special charge of children that have lost their way。
Doesn't it seem as if there was a vein of satire as well as of fun
that ran through the solemn manifestations of creative wisdom? And
of deception toodo you see how nearly those dried leaves resemble
an insect?
They do; indeed;I answered;but not so closely as to deceive me。
They remind me of an insect; but I could not mistake them for one。
Oh; you couldn't mistake those dried leaves for an insect; hey?
Well; how can you mistake that insect for dried leaves? That is the
question; for insect it is;phyllum siccifolium; the 〃walking leaf;〃
as some have called it。 The Master had a hearty laugh at my
expense。
The Scarabee did not seem to be amused at the Master's remarks or at
my blunder。 Science is always perfectly serious to him; and he would
no more laugh over anything connected with his study; than a
clergyman would laugh at a funeral。
They send me all sorts of trumpery;he said; Orthoptera and
Lepidoptera; as if a coleopterista scarabeeistcared for such
things。 This business is no boy's play to me。 The insect population
of the world is not even catalogued yet; and a lifetime given to the
scarabees is a small contribution enough to their study。 I like your
men of general intelligence well enough;your Linnwuses and your
Buffons and your Cuviers; but Cuvier had to go to Latreille for his
insects; and if Latreille had been able to consult me;yes; me;
gentlemen!he would n't have made the blunders he did about some of
the coleoptera。
The old Master; as I think you must have found out by this time;
you; Beloved; I mean; who read every word;has a reasonably good
opinion; as perhaps he has a right to have; of his own intelligence
and acquirements。 The Scarabee's exultation and glow as he spoke of
the errors of the great entomologist which he himself could have
corrected; had the effect on the old Master which a lusty crow has
upon the feathered champion of the neighboring barnyard。 He too knew
something about insects。 Had he not discovered a; new tabanus? Had
he not made preparations of the very coleoptera the Scarabee studied
so exclusively;preparations which the illustrious Swammerdam would
not have been ashamed of; and dissected a melolontha as exquisitely
as Strauss Durckheim himself ever did it? So the Master; recalling
these studies of his and certain difficult and disputed points at
which he had labored in one of his entomological paroxysms; put a
question which there can be little doubt was intended to puzzle the
Scarabee; and perhaps;for the best of us is human (I am beginning
to love the old Master; but he has his little weaknesses; thank
Heaven; like the rest of us);I say perhaps; was meant to show that
some folks knew as much about some things as some other folks。
The little dried…up specialist did not dilate into fighting
dimensions asperhaps; againthe Master may have thought he would。
He looked a mild surprise; but remained as quiet as one of his own
beetles when you touch him and he makes believe he is dead。 The
blank silence became oppressive。 Was the Scarabee crushed; as so
many of his namesakes are crushed; under the heel of this trampling
omniscient?
At last the Scarabee creaked out very slowly; 〃Did I understand you
to ask the following question; to wit?〃 and so forth; for I was quite
out of my depth; and only know that he repeated the Master's somewhat
complex inquiry; word for word。
That was exactly my question;said the Master;and I hope it is
not uncivil to ask one which seems to me to be a puzzler。
Not uncivil in the least;said the Scarabee; with something as much
like a look of triumph as his dry face permitted;not uncivil at
all; but a rather extraordinary question to ask at this date of
entomological history。 I settled that question some years ago; by a
series of dissections; six…and…thirty in number; reported in an essay
I can show you and would give you a copy of; but that I am a little
restricted in my revenue; and our Society has to be economical; so I
have but this one。 You see; sir;and he went on with elytra and
antennae and tarsi and metatarsi and tracheae and stomata and wing…
muscles and leg…muscles and ganglions;all plain enough; I do not
doubt; to those accustomed to handling dor…bugs and squash…bugs and
such undesirable objects of affection to all but naturalists。
He paused when he got through; not for an answer; for there evidently
was none; but
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