Trial

Franz Kafka

Description

Quand on veut dessecher un marais, on ne fait pas voter les grenouilles. - Mme. EMILE. DE GIRADIN

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 23 juin 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819919346
• Langue: English

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CHAPTER I
Quand on veut dessecher un marais, on ne fait pasvoter les grenouilles. - Mme. EMILE. DE GIRADIN
'Richard? That's right! Here's a tea-cup waiting foryou,' as the almost thirty-year-old Incumbent of Cocksmoor, stilllooking like a young deacon, entered the room with his quiet step,and silent greeting to its four inmates.
'Thank you, Ethel. Is papa gone out?'
'I have not seen him since dinner-time. You said hewas gone out with Dr. Spencer, Aubrey?'
'Yes, I heard Dr. Spencer's voice - "I say, Dick" -like three notes of consternation,' said Aubrey; 'and off theywent. I fancy there's some illness about in the Lower PondBuildings, that Dr. Spencer has been raging so long to getdrained.'
'The knell has been ringing for a little childthere,' added Mary; 'scarlatina, I believe - '
'But, Richard,' burst forth the merry voice of theyoungest, 'you must see our letters from Edinburgh.'
'You have heard, then? It was the very thing I cameto ask.'
'Oh yes! there were five notes in one cover,' saidGertrude. 'Papa says they are to be laid up in the family archives,and labelled "The Infants' Honeymoon."'
'Papa is very happy with his own share,' said Ethel.'It was signed, "Still his own White Flower," and it had two CaltonHill real daisies in it. I don't know when I have seen him morepleased.'
'And Hector's letter - I can say that by heart,'continued Gertrude. '"My dear Father, This is only to say that sheis the darlint, and for the pleasure of subscribing myself - Yourloving SON," - the son as big as all the rest put together.'
'I tell Blanche that he only took her for thepleasure of being my father's son,' said Aubrey, in his low lazyvoice.
'Well,' said Mary, 'even to the last, I do believehe had as soon drive papa out as walk with Blanche. Flora was quitescandalized at it.'
'I should not imagine that George had often drivenmy father out,' said Aubrey, again looking lazily up from balancinghis spoon.
Ethel laughed; and even Richard smiled; thenrecovering herself, she said, 'Poor Hector, he never could callhimself son to any one before.'
'He has not been much otherwise here,' saidRichard.
'No,' said Ethel; 'it is the peculiar hardship ofour weddings to break us up by pairs, and carry off two instead ofone. Did you ever see me with so shabby a row of tea-cups? Whenshall I have them come in riding double again?'
The recent wedding was the third in the family; thefirst after a five years' respite. It ensued upon an attachmentthat had grown up with the young people, so that they had beenentirely one with each other; and there had been little of formaldemand either of the maiden's affection or her father's consent;but both had been implied from the first. The bridegroom was barelyof age, the bride not seventeen, and Dr. May had owned it was veryshocking, and told Richard to say nothing about it! Hector hadcoaxed and pleaded, pathetically talked of his great empty house atMaplewood, and declared that till he might take Blanche away, hewould not leave Stoneborough; he would bring down all sorts ofgossip on his courtship, he would worry Ethel, and take care shefinished nobody's education. What did Blanche want with moreeducation? She knew enough for him. Couldn't Ethel be satisfiedwith Aubrey and Gertrude? or he dared say she might have Mary too,if she was insatiable. If Dr. May was so unnatural as to forbid himto hang about the house, why, he would take rooms at the Swan. Infact, as Dr. May observed, he treated him to a modern red-hairedScotch version of 'Make me a willow cabin at your gate;' and as heheartily loved Hector and entirely trusted him, and Blanche'spretty head was a wise and prudent one, what was the use of keepingthe poor lad unsettled?
So Mrs. Rivers, the eldest sister and the member'swife, had come to arrange matters and help Ethel, and a verybrilliant wedding it had been. Blanche was too entirely at homewith Hector for flutterings or agitations, and was too peacefullyhappy for grief at the separation, which completed the destiny thatshe had always seen before her. She was a picture of a bride; andwhen she and Hector hung round the Doctor, insisting that Edinburghshould be the first place they should visit, and calling forthminute directions for their pilgrimage to the scenes of his youth,promising to come home and tell him all, no wonder he felt himselfrather gaining a child than losing one. He was very bright andhappy; and no one but Ethel understood how all the time there was asensation that the present was but a strange dreamy parody of thatmarriage which had been the theme of earlier hopes.
The wedding had taken place shortly after Easter;and immediately after, the Rivers family had departed for London,and Tom May had returned to Cambridge, leaving the home party atthe minimum of four, since, Cocksmoor Parsonage being complete,Richard had become only a daily visitor instead of a constantinhabitant.
There he sat, occupying his never idle hands with anet that he kept for such moments, whilst Ethel sat behind her urn,now giving out its last sighs, profiting by the leisure to read thecounty newspaper, while she continually filled up her cup with teaor milk as occasion served, indifferent to the increasing pallor ofthe liquid.
Mary, a 'fine young woman,' as George Rivers calledher, of blooming face and sweet open expression, had begun, atGertrude's entreaty, a game of French billiards. Gertrude had stillher childish sunny face and bright hair, and even at the trying ageof twelve was pleasing, chiefly owing to the caressing freedom ofmanner belonging to an unspoilable pet. Her request to Aubrey tojoin the sport had been answered with a half petulant shake of thehead, and he flung himself into his father's chair, his long legshanging over one arm - an attitude that those who had ever beenunder Mrs. May's discipline thought impossible in the drawing-room;but Aubrey was a rival pet, and with the family characteristics ofaquiline features, dark gray eyes, and beautiful teeth, had an airof fragility and easy languor that showed his exercise of theimmunities of ill-health. He had been Ethel's pupil till Tom's lastyear at Eton, when he was sent thither, and had taken a good place;but his brother's vigilant and tender care could not save him froman attack on the chest, that settled his public-school educationfor ever, to his severe mortification, just when Tom's shower ofhonours was displaying to him the sweets of emulation and success.Ethel regained her pupil, and put forth her utmost powers for hisbenefit, causing Tom to examine him at each vacation, withadjurations to let her know the instant he discovered that her taskof tuition was getting beyond her. In truth, Tom fraternally heldher cheap, and would have enjoyed a triumph over her scholarship;but to this he had not attained, and in spite of his desire to keephis brother in a salutary state of humiliation, candour wrung fromhim the admission that, even in verses, Aubrey did as well as otherfellows of his standing.
Conceit was not Aubrey's fault. His father was moreguarded than in the case of his elder sons, and the home atmospherewas not such as to give the boy a sense of superiority, especiallywhen diligently kept down by his brother. Even the half year atEton had not produced superciliousness, though it had given Etonpolish to the home-bred manners; it had made sisters valuable, andawakened a desire for masculine companionship. He did not rebelagainst his sister's rule; she was nearly a mother to him, and hadalways been the most active president of his studies and pursuits;and he was perfectly obedient and dutiful to her, only assertinghis equality, in imitation of Harry and Tom, by a little of thegood-humoured raillery and teasing that treated Ethel as the familybutt, while she was really the family authority.
'All gone, Ethel,' he said, with a lazy smile, asEthel mechanically, with her eyes on the newspaper, tried all hervessels round, and found cream-jug, milk-jug, tea-pot, and urnexhausted; 'will you have in the river next?'
'What a shame!' said Ethel, awakening and laughing.'Those are the tea-maker's snares.'
'Do send it away then,' said Aubrey, 'the urnoppresses the atmosphere.'
'Very well, I'll make a fresh brew when papa comeshome, and perhaps you'll have some then. You did not half finishto-night.'
Aubrey yawned; and after some speculation abouttheir father's absence, Gertrude went to bed; and Aubrey, callinghimself tired, stood up, stretched every limb portentously, andsaid he should go off too. Ethel looked at him anxiously, felt hishand, and asked if he were sure he had not a cold coming on. 'Youare always thinking of colds,' was all the satisfaction shereceived.
'What has he been doing?' said Richard.
'That is what I was thinking. He was about allyesterday afternoon with Leonard Ward, and perhaps may have donesomething imprudent in the damp. I never know what to do. I can'tbear him to be a coddle; yet he is always catching cold if I lethim alone. The question is, whether it is worse for him to runrisks, or to be thinking of himself.'
'He need not be doing that,' said Richard; 'he maybe thinking of your wishes and papa's.'
'Very pretty of him and you, Ritchie; but he is notthree parts of a boy or man who thinks of his womankind's wisheswhen there is anything spirited before him.'
'Well, I suppose one may do one's duty without beingthree parts of a boy,' said Richard, gravely.
'I know it is true that some of the most saintlycharacters have been the more spiritual because their animal framewas less vigorous; but still it does not content me.'
'No, the higher the power, the better, of course,should the service be. I was only putting you in mind that there iscompensation. But I must be off. I am sorry I cannot wait for papa.Let me know what is the matter to-morrow, and how Aubrey is.'
Richard went; and the sisters took up theiremployments - Ethel writing to the New Zealand sister-in