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.”“Let me try it a bit by myself,” said the Other Professor.And he began touching the notes here and there, and humming to himself like an angry bluebottle.“How do you like his singing?” the Professor asked the children in a low voice.“It isn’t very beautiful,” Sylvie said, hesitatingly.“It’s very extremely ugly!” Bruno said, without any hesitation at all.“All extremes are bad,” the Professor said, very gravely.“For instance, Sobriety is a very good thing, when practised in moderation: but even Sobriety, when carried to an extreme, has its disadvantages.”“What are its disadvantages?” was the question that rose in my mind — and, as usual, Bruno asked it for me.“What are its lizard bandages?’“Well, this is one of them,” said the Professor.“When a man’s tipsy (that’s one extreme, you know), he sees one thing as two.But, when he’s extremely sober (that’s the other extreme), he sees two things as one.It’s equally inconvenient, whichever happens.“What does ‘illconvenient’ mean?” Bruno whispered to Sylvie.“The difference between ‘convenient’ and ‘inconvenient’ is best explained by an example,” said the Other Professor, who had overheard the question.“If you’ll just think over any Poem that contains the two words — such as — ”The Professor put his hands over his ears, with a look of dismay.“If you once let him begin a Poem,” he said to Sylvie, “he’ll never leave off again! He never does!”“Did he ever begin a Poem and not leave off again?” Sylvie enquired.“Three times,” said the Professor.Bruno raised himself on tiptoe, till his lips were on a level withSylvie’s ear.“What became of them three Poems?” he whispered.“Is he saying them all, now?”“Hush!” said Sylvie.“The Other Professor is speaking!”“I’ll say it very quick,” murmured the Other Professor, with downcast eyes, and melancholy voice, which contrasted oddly with his face, as he had forgotten to leave off smiling.(“At least it wasn’t exactly a smile,” as Sylvie said afterwards: “it looked as if his mouth was made that shape.”“Go on then,” said the Professor.“What must be must be.”“Remember that!” Sylvie whispered to Bruno, “It’s a very good rule for whenever you hurt yourself.”“And it’s a very good rule for whenever I make a noise,” said the saucy little fellow.“So you remember it too, Miss!”“Whatever do you mean?” said Sylvie, trying to frown, a thing she never managed particularly well.“Oftens and oftens,” said Bruno, “haven’t oo told me ‘ There mustn’t be so much noise, Bruno!’ when I’ve tolded oo ‘There must!’ Why, there isn’t no rules at all about ‘There mustn’t’! But oo never believes me!”“As if any one could believe you, you wicked wicked boy!” said Sylvie.The words were severe enough, but I am of opinion that, when you are really anxious to impress a criminal with a sense of his guilt, you ought not to pronounce the sentence with your lips quite close to his cheek — since a kiss at the end of it, however accidental, weakens the effect terribly.CHAPTER 11.PETER AND PAUL“As I was saying,” the Other Professor resumed, “if you’ll just think over any Poem, that contains the words — such as‘Peter is poor,’ said noble Paul,‘And I have always been his friend:And, though my means to give are small,At least I can afford to lend.How few, in this cold age of greed,Do good, except on selfish grounds!But I can feel for Peter’s need,And I WILL LEND HIM FIFTY POUNDS!’How great was Peter’s joy to findHis friend in such a genial vein!How cheerfully the bond he signed,To pay the money back again!‘We ca’n’t,’ said Paul, ‘be too precise:‘Tis best to fix the very day:So, by a learned friend’s advice,I’ve made it Noon, the Fourth of May.But this is April! Peter said.‘The First of April, as I think.Five little weeks will soon be fled:One scarcely will have time to wink!Give me a year to speculate —To buy and sell — to drive a trade — ’Said Paul ‘I cannot change the date.On May the Fourth it must be paid.’‘Well, well!’ said Peter, with a sigh.‘Hand me the cash, and I will go.I’ll form a Joint-Stock Company,And turn an honest pound or so.’‘I’m grieved,’ said Paul, ‘to seem unkind:The money shalt of course be lent:But, for a week or two, I findIt will not be convenient.’So, week by week, poor Peter cameAnd turned in heaviness away;For still the answer was the same,‘I cannot manage it to-day.’And now the April showers were dry —The five short weeks were nearly spent —Yet still he got the old reply,‘It is not quite convenient!’The Fourth arrived, and punctual PaulCame, with his legal friend, at noon.‘I thought it best,’ said he, ‘to call:One cannot settle things too soon.’Poor Peter shuddered in despair:His flowing locks he wildly tore:And very soon his yellow hairWas lying all about the floor.The legal friend was standing by,With sudden pity half unmanned:The tear-drop trembled in his eye,The signed agreement in his hand:But when at length the legal soulResumed its customary force,‘The Law,’ he said, ‘we ca’n’t control:Pay, or the Law must take its course!’Said Paul ‘How bitterly I rueThat fatal morning when I called!Consider, Peter, what you do!You won’t be richer when you’re bald!Think you, by rending curls away,To make your difficulties less?Forbear this violence, I pray:You do but add to my distress!’‘Not willingly would I inflict,’Said Peter, ‘on that noble heartOne needless pang.Yet why so strict?Is this to act a friendly part?However legal it may beTo pay what never has been lent,This style of business seems to meExtremely inconvenient!‘No Nobleness of soul have I,Like some that in this Age are found!’(Paul blushed in sheer humility,And cast his eyes upon the ground)‘This debt will simply swallow all,And make my life a life of woe!’‘Nay, nay, nay Peter!’ answered Paul.‘You must not rail on Fortune so!‘You have enough to eat and drink:You are respected in the world:And at the barber’s, as I think,You often get your whiskers curled.Though Nobleness you ca’n’t attainTo any very great extent —The path of Honesty is plain,However inconvenient!’“Tis true, ‘said Peter,’ I’m alive:I keep my station in the world:Once in the week I just contriveTo get my whiskers oiled and curled.But my assets are very low:My little income’s overspent:To trench on capital, you know,Is always inconvenient!’‘But pay your debts!’ cried honest Paul.‘My gentle Peter, pay your debts!What matter if it swallows allThat you describe as your “assets”?Already you’re an hour behind:Yet Generosity is best.It pinches me — but never mind!I WILL NOT CHARGE YOU INTEREST!’‘How good! How great!’ poor Peter cried.‘Yet I must sell my Sunday wig —The scarf-pin that has been my pride —My grand piano — and my pig!’Full soon his property took wings:And daily, as each treasure went,He sighed to find the state of thingsGrow less and less convenient [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]