At first the defence contented itself with arguments that did at least aim to rebut the indictment.The decisions of all the established men in the world were notoriously in conflict.However great was the gross wisdom of the ages the net wisdom was remarkably small.Was it after all so very immodest to believe that the Liberals were right in what they said about Tariff Reform, and the Tories right in their criticism of Home Rule?
And then suddenly the defence threw aside its mask and insisted that Benham had to take this presumptuous line because there was no other tolerable line possible for him.
"Better die with the Excelsior chap up the mountains," the defence interjected.
Than what?
Consider the quality Benham had already betrayed.He was manifestly incapable of a decent modest mediocre existence.Already he had ceased to be--if one may use so fine a word for genteel abstinence--virtuous.He didn't ride well, he hadn't good hands, and he hadn't good hands for life.He must go hard and harsh, high or low.He was a man who needed BITE in his life.He was exceptionally capable of boredom.He had been bored by London.Social occasions irritated him, several times he had come near to gross incivilities, art annoyed him, sport was an effort, wholesome perhaps, but unattractive, music he loved, but it excited him.The defendant broke the sunset calm by uttering amazing and improper phrases.
"I can't smug about in a state of falsified righteousness like these Crampton chaps.
"I shall roll in women.I shall rollick in women.If, that is, Istay in London with nothing more to do than I have had this year past.
"I've been sliding fast to it....
"NO! I'M DAMNED IF I DO!...
16
For some time he had been bothered by a sense of something, something else, awaiting his attention.Now it came swimming up into his consciousness.He had forgotten.He was, of course, going to sleep out under the stars.
He had settled that overnight, that was why he had this cloak in his rucksack, but he had settled none of the details.Now he must find some place where he could lie down.Here, perhaps, in this strange forgotten wilderness of rhododendra.
He turned off from the track and wandered among the bushes.One might lie down anywhere here.But not yet; it was as yet barely twilight.He consulted his watch.HALF-PAST SEVEN.
Nearly dinner-time....
No doubt Christian during the earlier stages of his pilgrimage noticed the recurrence of the old familiar hours of his life of emptiness and vanity.Or rather of vanity--simply.Why drag in the thought of emptiness just at this point?...
It was very early to go to bed.
He might perhaps sit and think for a time.Here for example was a mossy bank, a seat, and presently a bed.So far there were only three stars visible but more would come.He dropped into a reclining attitude.DAMP!
When one thinks of sleeping out under the stars one is apt to forget the dew.
He spread his Swiss cloak out on the soft thick carpeting of herbs and moss, and arranged his knapsack as a pillow.Here he would lie and recapitulate the thoughts of the day.(That squealing might be a young fox.) At the club at present men would be sitting about holding themselves back from dinner.Excellent the clear soup always was at the club! Then perhaps a Chateaubriand.That--what was that? Soft and large and quite near and noiseless.An owl!
The damp feeling was coming through his cloak.And this April night air had a knife edge.Early ice coming down the Atlantic perhaps.
It was wonderful to be here on the top of the round world and feel the icebergs away there.Or did this wind come from Russia? He wasn't quite clear just how he was oriented, he had turned about so much.Which was east? Anyhow it was an extremely cold wind.
What had he been thinking? Suppose after all that ending with Mrs.
Skelmersdale was simply a beginning.So far he had never looked *** in the face....
He sat up and sneezed violently.
It would be ridiculous to start out seeking the clue to one's life and be driven home by rheumatic fever.One should not therefore incur the risk of rheumatic fever.
Something squealed in the bushes.
It was impossible to collect one's thoughts in this place.He stood up.The night was going to be bitterly cold, savagely, cruelly cold....
