the moon and sixpence(月球和六便士)-第39部分
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upon which he was reticent； and with persons of his kind a direct question
is never very discreet。 He hinted at undeserved misfortune； and there is
no doubt that he looked upon himself as the victim of injustice。 My
fancy played with the various forms of fraud and violence； and I agreed
with him sympathetically when he remarked that the authorities in the old
country were so damned technical。 But it was nice to see that any
unpleasantness he had endured in his native land had not impaired his
ardent patriotism。 He frequently declared that England was the finest
country in the world； sir； and he felt a lively superiority over Americans；
Colonials； Dagos； Dutchmen； and Kanakas。
But I do not think he was a happy man。 He suffered from dyspepsia；
and he might often be seen sucking a tablet of pepsin； in the morning his
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appetite was poor； but this affliction alone would hardly have impaired his
spirits。 He had a greater cause of discontent with life than this。 Eight years
before he had rashly married a wife。 There are men whom a merciful
Providence has undoubtedly ordained to a single life； but who from
wilfulness or through circumstances they could not cope with have flown
in the face of its decrees。 There is no object more deserving of pity than
the married bachelor。 Of such was Captain Nichols。 I met his wife。 She
was a woman of twenty…eight； I should think； though of a type whose age
is always doubtful； for she cannot have looked different when she was
twenty； and at forty would look no older。 She gave me an impression of
extraordinary tightness。 Her plain face with its narrow lips was tight； her
skin was stretched tightly over her bones； her smile was tight； her hair was
tight； her clothes were tight； and the white drill she wore had all the effect
of black bombazine。 I could not imagine why Captain Nichols had
married her； and having married her why he had not deserted her。
Perhaps he had； often； and his melancholy arose from the fact that he
could never succeed。 However far he went and in howsoever secret a
place he hid himself； I felt sure that Mrs。 Nichols； inexorable as fate and
remorseless as conscience； would presently rejoin him。 He could as little
escape her as the cause can escape the effect。
The rogue； like the artist and perhaps the gentleman； belongs to no
class。 He is not embarrassed by the of the hobo； nor put
out of countenance by the etiquette of the prince。 But Mrs。 Nichols
belonged to the well…defined class； of late become vocal； which is known
as the lower…middle。 Her father； in fact； was a policeman。 I am certain
that he was an efficient one。 I do not know what her hold was on the
Captain； but I do not think it was love。 I never heard her speak； but it
may be that in private she had a copious conversation。 At any rate； Captain
Nichols was frightened to death of her。 Sometimes； sitting with me on the
terrace of the hotel； he would become conscious that she was walking in
the road outside。 She did not call him； she gave no sign that she was aware
of his existence； she merely walked up and down composedly。 Then a
strange uneasiness would seize the Captain； he would look at his watch
and sigh。
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〃Well； I must be off；〃 he said。
Neither wit nor whisky could detain him then。 Yet he was a man who
had faced undaunted hurricane and typhoon； and would not have hesitated
to fight a dozen unarmed niggers with nothing but a revolver to help him。
Sometimes Mrs。 Nichols would send her daughter； a pale…faced； sullen
child of seven； to the hotel。
〃Mother wants you；〃 she said； in a whining tone。
〃Very well； my dear；〃 said Captain Nichols。
He rose to his feet at once； and accompanied his daughter along the
road。 I suppose it was a very pretty example of the triumph of spirit over
matter； and so my digression has at least the advantage of a moral。
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The Moon and Sixpence
Chapter XLVII
I have tried to put some connection into the various things Captain
Nichols told me about Strickland； and I here set them down in the best
order I can。 They made one another's acquaintance during the latter part
of the winter following my last meeting with Strickland in Paris。 How he
had passed the intervening months I do not know； but life must have been
very hard； for Captain Nichols saw him first in the Asile de Nuit。 There
was a strike at Marseilles at the time； and Strickland； having come to the
end of his resources； had apparently found it impossible to earn the small
sum he needed to keep body and soul together。
The Asile de Nuit is a large stone building where pauper and vagabond
may get a bed for a week； provided their papers are in order and they can
persuade the friars in charge that they are workingmen。 Captain Nichols
noticed Strickland for his size and his singular appearance among the
crowd that waited for the doors to open； they waited listlessly； some
walking to and fro； some leaning against the wall； and others seated on the
curb with their feet in the gutter； and when they filed into the office he
heard the monk who read his papers address him in English。 But he did
not have a chance to speak to him； since； as he entered the common…room；
a monk came in with a huge Bible in his arms； mounted a pulpit which
was at the end of the room； and began the service which the wretched
outcasts had to endure as the price of their lodging。 He and Strickland
were assigned to different rooms； and when； thrown out of bed at five in
the morning by a stalwart monk； he had made his bed and washed his face；
Strickland had already disappeared。 Captain Nichols wandered about the
streets for an hour of bitter cold； and then made his way to the Place Victor
Gelu； where the sailor…men are wont to congregate。 Dozing against the
pedestal of a statue； he saw Strickland again。 He gave him a kick to
awaken him。
〃Come and have breakfast； mate；〃 he said。
〃Go to hell；〃 answered Strickland。
I recognised my friend's limited vocabulary； and I prepared to regard
Captain Nichols as a trustworthy witness。
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〃Busted？〃 asked the Captain。
〃Blast you；〃 answered Strickland。
〃Come along with me。 I'll get you some breakfast。〃
After a moment's hesitation； Strickland scrambled to his feet； and
together they went to the Bouchee de Pain； where the hungry are given a
wedge of bread； which they must eat there and then； for it is forbidden to
take it away； and then to the Cuillere de Soupe； where for a week； at
eleven and four； you may get a bowl of thin； salt soup。 The two buildings
are placed far apart； so that only the starving should be tempted to make
use of them。 So they had breakfast； and so began the queer
companionship of Charles Strickland and Captain Nichols。
They must have spent something like four months at Marseilles in one
another's society。 Their career was devoid of adventure； if by adventure
you mean unexpected or thrilling incident； for their days were occupied in
the pursuit of enough money to get a night's lodging and such food as
would stay the pangs of hunger。 But I wish I could give here the pictures；
coloured and racy； which Captain Nichols' vivid narrative offered to the
imagination。 His account of their discoveries in the low life of a seaport
town would have made a charming book； and in the various characters that
came their way the student might easily have found matter for a very
complete dictionary of rogues。 But I must content myself with a few
paragraphs。 I received the impression of a life intense and brutal； savage；
multicoloured； and vivacious。 It made the Marseilles that I knew；
gesticulating and sunny； with its comfortable hotels and its restaurants
crowded with the well…to…do； tame and commonplace。 I envied men who
had seen with their own eyes the sights that Captain Nichols described。
When the doors of the Asile de Nuit were closed to them； Strickland
and Captain Nichols sought the hospitality of Tough Bill。 This was the
master of a sailors' boarding…house； a huge mulatto with a heavy fist； who
gave the stranded mariner food and shelter till he found him a berth。
They live
