ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Of Human Bondage, by W. Somerset MaughamThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it awayorre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.netTitle: Of Human BondageAuthor: W. Somerset MaughamRelease Date: May 6, 2008 [EBook#351]  [Original release date: October, 1995]  [Most recently updated: July 12, 2013]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OF HUMAN BONDAGE ***OF HUMAN BONDAGEBYW.SOMERSET MAUGHAMIThe day broke gray and dull. The clouds hung heavily, and there was arawness in the air that suggested snow. A woman servant came into a roomin which a child was sleeping and drew thecurtains. She glancedmechanically at the house opposite, a stucco house with a portico, andwent to the child's bed."Wake up, Philip," she said.She pulled down the bed-clothes, took him in her arms, and carriedhimdownstairs. He was only half awake."Your mother wants you," she said.She opened the door of a room on the floor below and took the child overto a bed in which a woman was lying. It was his mother. Shestretched outher arms, and the child nestled by her side. He did not ask why he hadbeen awakened. The woman kissed his eyes, and with thin, small hands feltthe warm body through his white flannel nightgown. Shepressed him closerto herself."Are you sleepy, darling?" she said.Her voice was so weak that it seemed to come already from a greatdistance. The child did not answer, but smiled comfortably. He was veryhappy in thelarge, warm bed, with those soft arms about him. He tried tomake himself smaller still as he cuddled up against his mother, and hekissed her sleepily. In a moment he closed his eyes and was fast asleep.The doctorcame forwards and stood by the bed-side."Oh, don't take him away yet," she moaned.The doctor, without answering, looked at her gravely. Knowing she wouldnot be allowed to keep the child much longer, the womankissed him again;and she passed her hand down his body till she came to his feet; she heldthe right foot in her hand and felt the five small toes; and then slowlypassed her hand over the left one. She gave asob."What's the matter?" said the doctor. "You're tired."She shook her head, unable to speak, and the tears rolled down her cheeks.The doctor bent down."Let me take him."She was too weak to resist his wish, and shegave the child up. The doctorhanded him back to his nurse."You'd better put him back in his own bed.""Very well, sir." The little boy, still sleeping, was taken away. Hismother sobbed now broken-heartedly."What willhappen to him, poor child?"The monthly nurse tried to quiet her, and presently, from exhaustion, thecrying ceased. The doctor walked to a table on the other side of the room,upon which, under a towel, lay the body ofa still-born child. He liftedthe towel and looked. He was hidden from the bed by a screen, but thewoman guessed what he was doing."Was it a girl or a boy?" she whispered to the nurse."Another boy."The woman did notanswer. In a moment the child's nurse came back. Sheapproached the bed."Master Philip never woke up," she said. There was a pause. Then thedoctor felt his patient's pulse once more."I don't think there's anything Ican do just now," he said. "I'll callagain after breakfast.""I'll show you out, sir," said the child's nurse.They walked downstairs in silence. In the hall the doctor stopped."You've sent for Mrs. Carey's brother-in-law,haven't you?""Yes, sir.""D'you know at what time he'll be here?""No, sir, I'm expecting a telegram.""What about the little boy? I should think he'd be better out of the way.""Miss Watkin said she'd take him, sir.""Who'sshe?""She's his godmother, sir. D'you think Mrs. Carey will get over it, sir?"The doctor shook his head.IIIt was a week later. Philip was sitting on the floor in the drawing-roomat Miss Watkin's house in Onslow gardens.He was an only child and used toamusing himself. The room was filled with massive furniture, and on eachof the sofas were three big cushions. There was a cushion too in eacharm-chair. All these he had taken and,with the help of the gilt routchairs, light and easy to move, had made an elaborate cave in which hecould hide himself from the Red Indians who were lurking behind thecurtains. He put his ear to the floor and listenedto the herd ofbuffaloes that raced across the prairie. Presently, hearing the door open,he held his breath so that he might not be discovered; but a violent handpulled away a chair and the cushions fell down."Younaughty boy, Miss Watkin WILL be cross with you.""Hulloa, Emma!" he said.The nurse bent down and kissed him, then began to shake out the cushions,and put them back in their places."Am I to come home?" heasked."Yes, I've come to fetch you.""You've got a new dress on."It was in eighteen-eighty-five, and she wore a bustle. Her gown was ofblack velvet, with tight sleeves and sloping shoulders, and the skirt hadthree largeflounces. She wore a black bonnet with velvet strings. Shehesitated. The question she had expected did not come, and so she couldnot give the answer she had prepared."Aren't you going to ask how your mamma is?"she said at length."Oh, I forgot. How is mamma?"Now she was ready."Your mamma is quite well and happy.""Oh, I am glad.""Your mamma's gone away. You won't ever see her any more." Philip did notknow what shemeant."Why not?""Your mamma's in heaven."She began to cry, and Philip, though he did not quite understand, criedtoo. Emma was a tall, big-boned woman, with fair hair and large features.She came from Devonshireand, notwithstanding her many years of service inLondon, had never lost the breadth of her accent. Her tears increased heremotion, and she pressed the little boy to her heart. She felt vaguely thepity of that childdeprived of the only love in the world that is quiteunselfish. It seemed dreadful that he must be handed over to strangers.But in a little while she pulled herself together."Your Uncle William is waiting in to see you," shesaid. "Go and saygood-bye to Miss Watkin, and we'll go home.""I don't want to say good-bye," he answered, instinctively anxious to hidehis tears."Very well, run upstairs and get your hat."He fetched it, and when hecame down Emma was waiting for him in the hall.He heard the sound of voices in the study behind the dining-room. Hepaused. He knew that Miss Watkin and her sister were talking to friends,and it seemed to him--hewas nine years old--that if he went in they wouldbe sorry for him."I think I'll go and say good-bye to Miss Watkin.""I think you'd better," said Emma."Go in and tell them I'm coming," he said.He wished to make themost of his opportunity. Emma knocked at the doorand walked in. He heard her speak."Master Philip wants to say good-bye to you, miss."There was a sudden hush of the conversation, and Philip limped in.HenriettaWatkin was a stout woman, with a red face and dyed hair. Inthose days to dye the hair excited comment, and Philip had heard muchgossip at home when his godmother's changed colour. She lived with anelder sister,who had resigned herself contentedly to old age. Two ladies,whom Philip did not know, were calling, and they looked at him curiously."My poor child," said Miss Watkin, opening her arms.She began to cry. Philipunderstood now why she had not been in toluncheon and why she wore a black dress. She could not speak."I've got to go home," said Philip, at last.He disengaged himself from Miss Watkin's arms, and she kissed himagain.Then he went to her sister and bade her good-bye too. One of the strangeladies asked if she might kiss him, and he gravely gave her permission.Though crying, he keenly enjoyed the sensation he was causing;he wouldhave been glad to stay a little longer to be made much of, but felt theyexpected him to go, so he said that Emma was waiting for him. He went outof the room. Emma had gone downstairs to speak with a friendin thebasement, and he waited for her on the landing. He heard HenriettaWatkin's voice."His mother was my greatest friend. I can't bear to think that she'sdead.""You oughtn't to have gone to the funeral, Henrietta,"said her sister. "Iknew it would upset you."Then one of the strangers spoke."Poor little boy, it's dreadful to think of him quite alone in the world.I see he limps.""Yes, he's got a club-foot. It was such a grief to hismother."Then Emma came back. They called a hansom, and she told the driver whereto go.IIIWhen they reached the house Mrs. Carey had died in--it was in a dreary,respectable street between Notting Hill Gate andHigh Street,Kensington--Emma led Philip into the drawing-room. His uncle was writingletters of thanks for the wreaths which had been sent. One of them, whichhad arrived too late for the funeral, lay in its cardboardbox on thehall-table."Here's Master Philip," said Emma.Mr. Carey stood up slowly and shook hands with the little boy. Then onsecond thoughts he bent down and kissed his forehead. He was a man ofsomewhat less thanaverage height, inclined to corpulence, with his hair,worn long, arranged over the scalp so as to conceal his baldness. He wasclean-shaven. His features were regular, and it was possible to imaginethat in his youth hehad been good-looking. On his watch-chain he wore agold cross."You're going to live with me now, Philip," said Mr. Carey. "Shall youlike that?"Two years before Philip had been sent down to stay at the vicarage afteranattack of chicken-pox; but there remained with him a recollection of anattic and a large garden rather than of his uncle and aunt."Yes.""You must look upon me and your Aunt Louisa as your father and mother."Thechild's mouth trembled a little, he reddened, but did not answer."Your dear mother left you in my charge."Mr. Carey had no great ease in expressing himself. When the news came thathis sister-in-law was dying, he setoff at once for London, but on the waythought of nothing but the disturbance in his life that would be caused ifher death forced him to undertake the care of her son. He was well overfifty, and his wife, to whom he hadbeen married for thirty years, waschildless; he did not look forward with any pleasure to the presence of asmall boy who might be noisy and rough. He had never much liked hissister-in-law."I'm going to take you downto Blackstable tomorrow," he said."With Emma?"The child put his hand in hers, and she pressed it."I'm afraid Emma must go away," said Mr. Carey."But I want Emma to come with me."Philip began to cry, and thenurse could not help crying too. Mr. Careylooked at them helplessly."I think you'd better leave me alone with Master Philip for a moment.""Very good, sir."Though Philip clung to her, she released herself gently. Mr.Carey tookthe boy on his knee and put his arm round him."You mustn't cry," he said. "You're too old to have a nurse now. We mustsee about sending you to school.""I want Emma to come with me," the childrepeated."It costs too much money, Philip. Your father didn't leave very much, andI don't know what's become of it. You must look at every penny you spend."Mr. Carey had called the day before on the family solicitor.Philip'sfather was a surgeon in good practice, and his hospital appointmentssuggested an established position; so that it was a surprise on his suddendeath from blood-poisoning to find that he had left his widow littlemorethan his life insurance and what could be got for the lease of their housein Bruton Street. This was six months ago; and Mrs. Carey, already indelicate health, finding herself with child, had lost her headandaccepted for the lease the first offer that was made. She stored herfurniture, and, at a rent which the parson thought outrageous, took afurnished house for a year, so that she might suffer from no inconveniencetillher child was born. But she had never been used to the management ofmoney, and was unable to adapt her expenditure to her alteredcircumstances. The little she had slipped through her fingers in one wayandanother, so that now, when all expenses were paid, not much more thantwo thousand pounds remained to support the boy till he was able to earnhis own living. It was impossible to explain all this to Philip and hewassobbing still."You'd better go to Emma," Mr. Carey said, feeling that she could consolethe child better than anyone.Without a word Philip slipped off his uncle's knee, but Mr. Carey stoppedhim."We must gotomorrow, because on Saturday I've got to prepare my sermon,and you must tell Emma to get your things ready today. You can bring allyour toys. And if you want anything to remember your father and mother byyoucan take one thing for each of them. Everything else is going to besold."The boy slipped out of the room. Mr. Carey was unused to work, and heturned to his correspondence with resentment. On one side of the deskwasa bundle of bills, and these filled him with irritation. One especiallyseemed preposterous. Immediately after Mrs. Carey's death Emma had orderedfrom the florist masses of white flowers for the room in which thedeadwoman lay. It was sheer waste of money. Emma took far too much uponherself. Even if there had been no financial necessity, he would havedismissed her.But Philip went to her, and hid his face in her bosom, andwept as thoughhis heart would break. And she, feeling that he was almost her ownson--she had taken him when he was a month old--consoled him with softwords. She promised that she would come and see himsometimes, and thatshe would never forget him; and she told him about the country he wasgoing to and about her own home in Devonshire--her father kept a turnpikeon the high-road that led to Exeter, and therewere pigs in the sty, andthere was a cow, and the cow had just had a calf--till Philip forgot histears and grew excited at the thought of his approaching journey.Presently she put him down, for there was much to bedone, and he helpedher to lay out his clothes on the bed. She sent him into the nursery togather up his toys, and in a little while he was playing happily.But at last he grew tired of being alone and went back to thebed-room, inwhich Emma was now putting his things into a big tin box; he rememberedthen that his uncle had said he might take something to remember hisfather and mother by. He told Emma and asked her what heshould take."You'd better go into the drawing-room and see what you fancy.""Uncle William's there.""Never mind that. They're your own things now."Philip went downstairs slowly and found the door open. Mr. Careyhad leftthe room. Philip walked slowly round. They had been in the house so shorta time that there was little in it that had a particular interest to him.It was a stranger's room, and Philip saw nothing that struck hisfancy.But he knew which were his mother's things and which belonged to thelandlord, and presently fixed on a little clock that he had once heard hismother say she liked. With this he walked again ratherdisconsolatelyupstairs. Outside the door of his mother's bed-room he stopped andlistened. Though no one had told him not to go in, he had a feeling thatit would be wrong to do so; he was a little frightened, and hisheart beatuncomfortably; but at the same time something impelled him to turn thehandle. He turned it very gently, as if to prevent anyone within fromhearing, and then slowly pushed the door open. He stood on thethresholdfor a moment before he had the courage to enter. He was not frightenednow, but it seemed strange. He closed the door behind him. The blinds weredrawn, and the room, in the cold light of a Januaryafternoon, was dark.On the dressing-table were Mrs. Carey's brushes and the hand mirror. In alittle tray were hairpins. There was a photograph of himself on thechimney-piece and one of his father. He had often beenin the room whenhis mother was not in it, but now it seemed different. There was somethingcurious in the look of the chairs. The bed was made as though someone weregoing to sleep in it that night, and in a case onthe pillow was anight-dress.Philip opened a large cupboard filled with dresses and, stepping in, tookas many of them as he could in his arms and buried his face in them. Theysmelt of the scent his mother used. Then hepulled open the drawers,filled with his mother's things, and looked at them: there were lavenderbags among the linen, and their scent was fresh and pleasant. Thestrangeness of the room left it, and it seemed to himthat his mother hadjust gone out for a walk. She would be in presently and would comeupstairs to have nursery tea with him. And he seemed to feel her kiss onhis lips.It was not true that he would never see her again.It was not true simplybecause it was impossible. He climbed up on the bed and put his head onthe pillow. He lay there quite still.IVPhilip parted from Emma with tears, but the journey to Blackstable amusedhim, and,when they arrived, he was resigned and cheerful. Blackstable wassixty miles from London. Giving their luggage to a porter, Mr. Carey setout to walk with Philip to the vicarage; it took them little more thanfive minutes,and, when they reached it, Philip suddenly remembered thegate. It was red and five-barred: it swung both ways on easy hinges; andit was possible, though forbidden, to swing backwards and forwards on it.Theywalked through the garden to the front-door. This was only used byvisitors and on Sundays, and on special occasions, as when the Vicar wentup to London or came back. The traffic of the house took place throughaside-door, and there was a back door as well for the gardener and forbeggars and tramps. It was a fairly large house of yellow brick, with ared roof, built about five and twenty years before in an ecclesiasticalstyle. Thefront-door was like a church porch, and the drawing-roomwindows were gothic.Mrs. Carey, knowing by what train they were coming, waited in thedrawing-room and listened for the click of the gate. When she heard itshewent to the door."There's Aunt Louisa," said Mr. Carey, when he saw her. "Run and give hera kiss."Philip started to run, awkwardly, trailing his club-foot, and thenstopped. Mrs. Carey was a little, shrivelled woman ofthe same age as herhusband, with a face extraordinarily filled with deep wrinkles, and paleblue eyes. Her gray hair was arranged in ringlets according to the fashionof her youth. She wore a black dress, and her onlyornament was a goldchain, from which hung a cross. She had a shy manner and a gentle voice."Did you walk, William?" she said, almost reproachfully, as she kissed herhusband."I didn't think of it," he answered, with aglance at his nephew."It didn't hurt you to walk, Philip, did it?" she asked the child."No. I always walk."He was a little surprised at their conversation. Aunt Louisa told him tocome in, and they entered the hall. It waspaved with red and yellowtiles, on which alternately were a Greek Cross and the Lamb of God. Animposing staircase led out of the hall. It was of polished pine, with apeculiar smell, and had been put in becausefortunately, when the churchwas reseated, enough wood remained over. The balusters were decorated withemblems of the Four Evangelists."I've had the stove lighted as I thought you'd be cold after yourjourney," saidMrs. Carey.It was a large black stove that stood in the hall and was only lighted ifthe weather was very bad and the Vicar had a cold. It was not lighted ifMrs. Carey had a cold. Coal was expensive. Besides, Mary Ann,the maid,didn't like fires all over the place. If they wanted all them fires theymust keep a second girl. In the winter Mr. and Mrs. Carey lived in thedining-room so that one fire should do, and in the summer they couldnotget out of the habit, so the drawing-room was used only by Mr. Carey onSunday afternoons for his nap. But every Saturday he had a fire in thestudy so that he could write his sermon.Aunt Louisa took Philip upstairsand showed him into a tiny bed-room thatlooked out on the drive. Immediately in front of the window was a largetree, which Philip remembered now because the branches were so low that itwas possible to climb quitehigh up it."A small room for a small boy," said Mrs. Carey. "You won't be frightenedat sleeping alone?""Oh, no."On his first visit to the vicarage he had come with his nurse, and Mrs.Carey had had little to do with him.She looked at him now with someuncertainty."Can you wash your own hands, or shall I wash them for you?""I can wash myself," he answered firmly."Well, I shall look at them when you come down to tea," said Mrs.Carey.She knew nothing about children. After it was settled that Philip shouldcome down to Blackstable, Mrs. Carey had thought much how she should treathim; she was anxious to do her duty; but now he was thereshe foundherself just as shy of him as he was of her. She hoped he would not benoisy and rough, because her husband did not like rough and noisy boys.Mrs. Carey made an excuse to leave Philip alone, but in a


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   <title>"Pitch Black", shooting draft, revised by David Twohy</title><bodybgcolor="#FFFFFF">
                           PITCH BLACK                           Screenplay                               by                           David Twohy               Based on material by Ken and JimWheat                                             Revised First Draft                                             3/3/98     NOTE: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT CONTAINED SCENE NUMBERS     AND SOME"OMITTED" SLUGS. THEY HAVE BEEN REMOVED FOR THIS     SOFT COPY.     NOTE ALSO: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT WAS IN THE NON-     PREFORMAT FONT "TIMES NEW ROMAN".THIS HAS BEEN CHANGED     TO PREFORMATTED TEXT FOR THIS SOFT COPY.Though mentioned often in the script, the creatures in PITCH BLACK are seldom seen at length; rather, they are glimpsed,they are heard, they are felt. They are, really, the embodiment of your nocturnal fears: A howling coyote that jars you awake; the painting on the wall that comes to lifewhen stared at too long...the sway of your bedjust before the earthquake hits. Chimera of the night. The point is made so the reader appreciatesthat the focus of the finished film will not be on what the creatures do, but on what the creatures do to reveal the innernature of the characters. For PITCH BLACK is, at its heart, a story of humanity and courage -- and lack of the same.                                                       David Twohy     CUT IN:     INT. MAINCABIN     A CRYO-LOCKER BLOWS OPEN, spitting out...     CAROLYN FRY. She hits the deck of the main cabin: Four crew     lockers in a forward section, countless more in back. But the     deck is canted at a sickangle and ALARMS SCREAM everywhere:     The world is dying around her.     Legs wobbly, shivering like a flu victim, Fry stumbles to the     next forward locker. It's riddled with holes. One DEAD CREWIE     is seenthrough fractured plexi, body pocked and bloodied. But     in the next cryo-locked...     The CAPTAIN is struggling awake. Fry's face floods with relief.     Slapping anintercom:                              FRY               Hear me? Cap'n? Some kinda compromise to               the hull...holding for now, but...Goddamn,               I'm glad you're alive. Gotta pullyour               E-release...no, red handle, red handle.               I'll get the warm-ups out while --     PHFUT-PHFUT-PHFUT-PHFUT: Particles bore through the cabin,     blasting open the captain's chest,shattering plexi, DETONATING     INSTRUMENTS on the opposite wall and leaving CONTRAILS     HISSING in the air.     Fry lands on her ass, horrified. Suddenly...     Another LOCKER BLOWS OPEN. A body falls right ontop of Fry --     but this one's still alive. Disoriented, frantic:                              OWENS               Why did I fall on you?                              FRY               He's dead. Cap'n's dead. Christ, Iwas               looking right at him when --                              OWENS               I mean, I mean, chrono shows we're 22               weeks out, so gravity wasn't supposed to               kick in for another 19. Imean, I mean,               I mean, why did I fall at all?                              FRY               You hear me? Captain's dead. Owens too.                              OWENS               Oh, no. Not Owens,not.... Wai', wai',               wait. I'm Owens. Right?     They swap nightmare looks, momentarily unsure of their own     identities.                              FRY               Cryo-sleep. Swear to God, itsloughs               brain cells.     INT. NAV-BAY - MAIN CABIN     They stumble into nav-bay. ALARMS CONTINUE. Fry grabs warm-up     suits out of storage, pitches one to Owens, checks herscreens.                              FRY               1550 millibars, dropping 20 MB per minute,               shit, we're hemorrhaging air. Somethin'               took a swipe atus.                              OWENS               Just tell me we're still in the shipping               lane. Just show me all those stars, all               those bright, beautiful, deep-space....     Owens activates an exteriorview: A planet rushes up at us.     That's why they have gravity.                              FRY               Jesus God....     EXT. SHIP - PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE - DAY     The SHIP PLOWSthrough the upper atmosphere, antennae pylons     already disintegrating.     INT. PASSAGE TO FLIGHT DECK     Heart battering her ribs, Fry runs forward, using hand-holds to     steady herself. Over aheadset:                              OWENS (V.O.)               They trained you for this, right? Fry?               FRY?     She doesn't answer.     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY     Fry harnesses in, startsrunning switches -- but fumbles a few     times, making mental errors. Finally she gets crash-shutters     open to reveal...     CLOUD STRATA sweeping up past the windscreen like floor-lights     on a dropping elevator.We're shedding big altitude.     INT. NAV-BAY - MAIN CABIN                              OWENS               ... crisis program selected Number Two of               this system because it shows at leastsome               oxygen and more than 1,500 -- would you               SHUT THE FUCK UP!                         (hammers a button,                          SILENCES ALARMS)               -- more than1,500-millibars of pressure               at surface-level. Okay, so maybe the ship               did something right for a change....     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY     As Fry runs more switches.     INT. SHIP -DAY     As JETTISON DOORS CLOSE around the ship.     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY     As Fry flips up a security-latch -- and thumbs the switch below.     EXT. SHIP - PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE -DAY     MULTIPLE SHOTS: EXPLOSIVE BOLTS RAPID-FIRE around the ship's     skin, blowing away non-essentials that hinder aerodynamics --     including big deep-space drives. But this last separation puts     theship into a dangerous roll.     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY     Out the windscreen, cloud strata roll vertiginously. Fry throws     actuators...     EXT. SHIP - PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE - DAY     And airbrakesdeploy. She manages to kill the roll. But the     ship's still coming in nose-high.     INT. NAV-BAY - MAIN CABIN                              OWENS               ...showing no major waterbodies...maximum               terrain, 220 meters over mean surface...               largely cinder and gypsum with some               evaporite deposits....     JETTISON DOORS CLOSE behind Owens, segregating him fromthe     passenger compartment. It scares him for a new reason.                              OWENS               Fry? What're you doing?     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY     Fry flips up a newsecurity-latch. INTERCUTTING:                              OWENS               Fry?                              FRY               Can't get my nose down...too much load               backthere....                              OWENS               You mean that "load" of passengers?                              FRY               So what, we should both go down too?               Out of sheer fuckingnobility?     Tortured silence. Fry's thumb moves to the switch that will     jettison the passenger cabin. Jettison 50 people.     INT. MAIN CABIN     SELECTED SHOTS of faces inside cryo-lockers, among themJOHNS.     He's prime-of-life, badge on display, some kind of cop. Shaken     awake, he clears condensation to check the locker directly across     from his, finding...     RIDDICK. Small black goggles hide his eyes. Ametal bit wedged     in his mouth lends a perpetual grimace. A read-out admonishes     "LOCK-OUT PROTOCOL IN EFFECT. ABSOLUTELY NO EARLY     RELEASE."     INT. FLIGHT DECK -DAY                              OWENS               Look, Fry. Company says we're responsible               for every one of those --                              FRY               Company's not here, isit?                              OWENS               When captain went down, you stepped up --               whether you like it or not. Now they               train you for this, so--                              FRY               And there wasn't a simulated cockroach               alive within 50 clicks of the simulated               crash site! That's how they train you!               On a fuckingsimulator!     Owens unbuckles from his chair.                              OWENS               Don't touch that switch!     Overcome by guilt, Fry retracts her thumb of mass destruction.     But a HUGE JOLT puts thethumb right back.                              FRY               I'm not dying for them.     She pushes it. But this time...     EXT. SHIP - PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE - DAY     No bolts fire. Nothingseparates from the SHIP THAT SCREAMS DOWN     through the clouds.     INT. NAV-BAY - MAIN CABIN     Now we see why: Owens reopened the jettison doors locally -- and     blocked themopen.                              FRY               Owens!                              OWENS               70 seconds! You still got 70 seconds to               level this beast out!     INT. FLIGHT DECK -DAY     Seething anger and guilt, Fry pops more airbrakes, shedding more     speed, more heat. The ship does level -- but it's still being     pounded hellishly. She tries to get a stable view out...     Thewindscreen. We're breaking through cloud-bottoms. There's     just a glimpse of landscape before...     EXT. SHIP - PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE - DAY     An airbrake fails. It shears off and pinwheelsinto...     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY     The windscreen. It cracks into a thousand spiderwebs -- but     impossibly it holds. For now.                              OWENS (V.O.)               What the shitwas that?     Sunlight flares from every fractured edge: It's like looking     into burning diamonds, and Fry can only get an impression     of the outside world. Now she has to rely on...     A ground-mapping display. 120meters altitude. And dropping.     INT. CRYO-LOCKER - DAY     INTERCUT Johns. Realizing he's in some kind of shit-storm, he     claws at safety restraints.     INT. FLIGHT DECK -DAY     Ground-mapper: 60 meters. COLLISION ALARMS kick in.     Out the fractured windscreen, we see a huge dark mass rise up     into view. Land.     40 meters...30...20...10....     Frybraces.     IMPACT. The WINDSCREENS IMPLODE. AIR HURRICANES in.     INT. NAV-BAY - MAIN CABIN     IMPACT. Chairs rip from their moorings. Strapped into one,     Owens slams into theceiling.     INT. MAIN CABIN - DAY     IMPACT. Johns BLOWS OUT of his locker -- and wishes to God he     would've stayed inside, because just beside him...     The hull is crackingopen.     NIGHTMARE SHOT: A huge section of the cabin tears free...     skitters and CRASHES along the planetfloor behind us...and     disintegrates out of sight. 40 cryo-lockers vanished with it.     40


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Of The Nature of Things, by [Titus Lucretius Carus] LucretiusThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, giveit away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Of The Nature of ThingsAuthor: [Titus Lucretius Carus] LucretiusTranslator: WilliamEllery LeonardPosting Date: July 31, 2008 [EBook #785]Release Date: January, 1997Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OF THE NATURE OF THINGS ***Produced by Levent KurnazOFTHE NATURE OF THINGSBy Titus Lucretius CarusA Metrical TranslationBy William Ellery LeonardBOOK IPROEM     Mother of Rome, delight of Gods and men,     Dear Venus that beneath the gliding stars     Makest toteem the many-voyaged main     And fruitful lands--for all of living things     Through thee alone are evermore conceived,     Through thee are risen to visit the great sun--     Before thee, Goddess, and thy comingon,     Flee stormy wind and massy cloud away,     For thee the daedal Earth bears scented flowers,     For thee waters of the unvexed deep     Smile, and the hollows of the serene sky     Glow with diffused radiance forthee!     For soon as comes the springtime face of day,     And procreant gales blow from the West unbarred,     First fowls of air, smit to the heart by thee,     Foretoken thy approach, O thou Divine,     And leap the wildherds round the happy fields     Or swim the bounding torrents. Thus amain,     Seized with the spell, all creatures follow thee     Whithersoever thou walkest forth to lead,     And thence through seas and mountains andswift streams,     Through leafy homes of birds and greening plains,     Kindling the lure of love in every breast,     Thou bringest the eternal generations forth,     Kind after kind. And since 'tis thou alone     Guidest theCosmos, and without thee naught     Is risen to reach the shining shores of light,     Nor aught of joyful or of lovely born,     Thee do I crave co-partner in that verse     Which I presume on Nature to compose     ForMemmius mine, whom thou hast willed to be     Peerless in every grace at every hour--     Wherefore indeed, Divine one, give my words     Immortal charm. Lull to a timely rest     O'er sea and land the savage works ofwar,     For thou alone hast power with public peace     To aid mortality; since he who rules     The savage works of battle, puissant Mars,     How often to thy bosom flings his strength     O'ermastered by the eternalwound of love--     And there, with eyes and full throat backward thrown,     Gazing, my Goddess, open-mouthed at thee,     Pastures on love his greedy sight, his breath     Hanging upon thy lips. Him thusreclined     Fill with thy holy body, round, above!     Pour from those lips soft syllables to win     Peace for the Romans, glorious Lady, peace!     For in a season troublous to the state     Neither may I attend this task ofmine     With thought untroubled, nor mid such events     The illustrious scion of the Memmian house     Neglect the civic cause.                            Whilst human kind     Throughout the lands lay miserablycrushed     Before all eyes beneath Religion--who     Would show her head along the region skies,     Glowering on mortals with her hideous face--     A Greek it was who first opposing dared     Raise mortal eyes thatterror to withstand,     Whom nor the fame of Gods nor lightning's stroke     Nor threatening thunder of the ominous sky     Abashed; but rather chafed to angry zest     His dauntless heart to be the first to rend     Thecrossbars at the gates of Nature old.     And thus his will and hardy wisdom won;     And forward thus he fared afar, beyond     The flaming ramparts of the world, until     He wandered the unmeasurable All.     Whencehe to us, a conqueror, reports     What things can rise to being, what cannot,     And by what law to each its scope prescribed,     Its boundary stone that clings so deep in Time.     Wherefore Religion now is underfoot,     And us his victory now exalts to heaven.     I know how hard it is in Latian verse     To tell the dark discoveries of the Greeks,     Chiefly because our pauper-speech must find     Strange terms to fit thestrangeness of the thing;     Yet worth of thine and the expected joy     Of thy sweet friendship do persuade me on     To bear all toil and wake the clear nights through,     Seeking with what of words and what ofsong     I may at last most gloriously uncloud     For thee the light beyond, wherewith to view     The core of being at the centre hid.     And for the rest, summon to judgments true,     Unbusied ears and singleness ofmind     Withdrawn from cares; lest these my gifts, arranged     For thee with eager service, thou disdain     Before thou comprehendest: since for thee     I prove the supreme law of Gods and sky,     And the primordialgerms of things unfold,     Whence Nature all creates, and multiplies     And fosters all, and whither she resolves     Each in the end when each is overthrown.     This ultimate stock we have devised to name     Procreantatoms, matter, seeds of things,     Or primal bodies, as primal to the world.     I fear perhaps thou deemest that we fare     An impious road to realms of thought profane;     But 'tis that same religion oftener far     Hathbred the foul impieties of men:     As once at Aulis, the elected chiefs,     Foremost of heroes, Danaan counsellors,     Defiled Diana's altar, virgin queen,     With Agamemnon's daughter, foully slain.     She felt thechaplet round her maiden locks     And fillets, fluttering down on either cheek,     And at the altar marked her grieving sire,     The priests beside him who concealed the knife,     And all the folk in tears at sight ofher.     With a dumb terror and a sinking knee     She dropped; nor might avail her now that first     'Twas she who gave the king a father's name.     They raised her up, they bore the trembling girl     On to thealtar--hither led not now     With solemn rites and hymeneal choir,     But sinless woman, sinfully foredone,     A parent felled her on her bridal day,     Making his child a sacrificial beast     To give the ships auspiciouswinds for Troy:     Such are the crimes to which Religion leads.     And there shall come the time when even thou,     Forced by the soothsayer's terror-tales, shalt seek     To break from us. Ah, many a dream evennow     Can they concoct to rout thy plans of life,     And trouble all thy fortunes with base fears.     I own with reason: for, if men but knew     Some fixed end to ills, they would be strong     By some deviceunconquered to withstand     Religions and the menacings of seers.     But now nor skill nor instrument is theirs,     Since men must dread eternal pains in death.     For what the soul may be they do notknow,     Whether 'tis born, or enter in at birth,     And whether, snatched by death, it die with us,     Or visit the shadows and the vasty caves     Of Orcus, or by some divine decree     Enter the brute herds, as ourEnnius sang,     Who first from lovely Helicon brought down     A laurel wreath of bright perennial leaves,     Renowned forever among the Italian clans.     Yet Ennius too in everlasting verse     Proclaims those vaults ofAcheron to be,     Though thence, he said, nor souls nor bodies fare,     But only phantom figures, strangely wan,     And tells how once from out those regions rose     Old Homer's ghost to him and shed salttears     And with his words unfolded Nature's source.     Then be it ours with steady mind to clasp     The purport of the skies--the law behind     The wandering courses of the sun and moon;     To scan the powers thatspeed all life below;     But most to see with reasonable eyes     Of what the mind, of what the soul is made,     And what it is so terrible that breaks     On us asleep, or waking in disease,     Until we seem to mark andhear at hand     Dead men whose bones earth bosomed long ago.SUBSTANCE IS ETERNAL     This terror, then, this darkness of the mind,     Not sunrise with its flaring spokes of light,     Nor glittering arrows of morningcan disperse,     But only Nature's aspect and her law,     Which, teaching us, hath this exordium:     Nothing from nothing ever yet was born.     Fear holds dominion over mortality     Only because, seeing in land andsky     So much the cause whereof no wise they know,     Men think Divinities are working there.     Meantime, when once we know from nothing still     Nothing can be create, we shall divine     More clearly what weseek: those elements     From which alone all things created are,     And how accomplished by no tool of Gods.     Suppose all sprang from all things: any kind     Might take its origin from any thing,     No fixed seedrequired. Men from the sea     Might rise, and from the land the scaly breed,     And, fowl full fledged come bursting from the sky;     The horned cattle, the herds and all the wild     Would haunt with varying offspringtilth and waste;     Nor would the same fruits keep their olden trees,     But each might grow from any stock or limb     By chance and change. Indeed, and were there not     For each its procreant atoms, could thingshave     Each its unalterable mother old?     But, since produced from fixed seeds are all,     Each birth goes forth upon the shores of light     From its own stuff, from its own primal bodies.     And all from all cannotbecome, because     In each resides a secret power its own.     Again, why see we lavished o'er the lands     At spring the rose, at summer heat the corn,     The vines that mellow when the autumn lures,     If notbecause the fixed seeds of things     At their own season must together stream,     And new creations only be revealed     When the due times arrive and pregnant earth     Safely may give unto the shores of light     Hertender progenies? But if from naught     Were their becoming, they would spring abroad     Suddenly, unforeseen, in alien months,     With no primordial germs, to be preserved     From procreant unions at an adversehour.     Nor on the mingling of the living seeds     Would space be needed for the growth of things     Were life an increment of nothing: then     The tiny babe forthwith would walk a man,     And from the turf wouldleap a branching tree--     Wonders unheard of; for, by Nature, each     Slowly increases from its lawful seed,     And through that increase shall conserve its kind.     Whence take the proof that things enlarge andfeed     From out their proper matter. Thus it comes     That earth, without her seasons of fixed rains,     Could bear no produce such as makes us glad,     And whatsoever lives, if shut from food,     Prolongs its kindand guards its life no more.     Thus easier 'tis to hold that many things     Have primal bodies in common (as we see     The single letters common to many words)     Than aught exists without its origins.     Moreover,why should Nature not prepare     Men of a bulk to ford the seas afoot,     Or rend the mighty mountains with their hands,     Or conquer Time with length of days, if not     Because for all begotten things abides     Thechangeless stuff, and what from that may spring     Is fixed forevermore? Lastly we see     How far the tilled surpass the fields untilled     And to the labour of our hands return     Their more abounding crops; there areindeed     Within the earth primordial germs of things,     Which, as the ploughshare turns the fruitful clods     And kneads the mould, we quicken into birth.     Else would ye mark, without all toil of ours,     Spontaneousgenerations, fairer forms.     Confess then, naught from nothing can become,     Since all must have their seeds, wherefrom to grow,     Wherefrom to reach the gentle fields of air.     Hence too it comes that Nature alldissolves     Into their primal bodies again, and naught     Perishes ever to annihilation.     For, were aught mortal in its every part,     Before our eyes it might be snatched away     Unto destruction; since no force wereneeded     To sunder its members and undo its bands.     Whereas, of truth, because all things exist,     With seed imperishable, Nature allows     Destruction nor collapse of aught, until     Some outward force mayshatter by a blow,     Or inward craft, entering its hollow cells,     Dissolve it down. And more than this, if Time,     That wastes with eld the works along the world,     Destroy entire, consuming matter all,     Whencethen may Venus back to light of life     Restore the generations kind by kind?     Or how, when thus restored, may daedal Earth     Foster and plenish with her ancient food,     Which, kind by kind, she offers untoeach?     Whence may the water-springs, beneath the sea,     Or inland rivers, far and wide away,     Keep the unfathomable ocean full?     And out of what does Ether feed the stars?     For lapsed years and infinite agemust else     Have eat all shapes of mortal stock away:     But be it the Long Ago contained those germs,     By which this sum of things recruited lives,     Those same infallibly can never die,     Nor nothing to nothingevermore return.     And, too, the selfsame power might end alike     All things, were they not still together held     By matter eternal, shackled through its parts,     Now more, now less. A touch might be enough     Tocause destruction. For the slightest force     Would loose the weft of things wherein no part     Were of imperishable stock. But now     Because the fastenings of primordial parts     Are put together diversely andstuff     Is everlasting, things abide the same     Unhurt and sure, until some power comes on     Strong to destroy the warp and woof of each:     Nothing returns to naught; but all return     At their collapse to primalforms of stuff.     Lo, the rains perish which Ether-father throws     Down to the bosom of Earth-mother; but then     Upsprings the shining grain, and boughs are green     Amid the trees, and trees themselves waxbig     And lade themselves with fruits; and hence in turn     The race of man and all the wild are fed;     Hence joyful cities thrive with boys and girls;     And leafy woodlands echo with new birds;     Hence cattle, fatand drowsy, lay their bulk     Along the joyous pastures whilst the drops     Of white ooze trickle from distended bags;     Hence the young scamper on their weakling joints     Along the tender herbs, fresh heartsafrisk     With warm new milk. Thus naught of what so seems     Perishes utterly, since Nature ever     Upbuilds one thing from other, suffering naught     To come to birth but through some other'sdeath.     *****     And now, since I have taught that things cannot     Be born from nothing, nor the same, when born,     To nothing be recalled, doubt not my words,     Because our eyes no primal germsperceive;     For mark those bodies which, though known to be     In this our world, are yet invisible:     The winds infuriate lash our face and frame,     Unseen, and swamp huge ships and rend the clouds,     Or,eddying wildly down, bestrew the plains     With mighty trees, or scour the mountain tops     With forest-crackling blasts. Thus on they rave     With uproar shrill and ominous moan. The winds,     'Tis clear, are sightlessbodies sweeping through     The sea, the lands, the clouds along the sky,     Vexing and whirling and seizing all amain;     And forth they flow and pile destruction round,     Even as the water's soft and supplebulk     Becoming a river of abounding floods,     Which a wide downpour from the lofty hills     Swells with big showers, dashes headlong down     Fragments of woodland and whole branching trees;     Nor can the solidbridges bide the shock     As on the waters whelm: the turbulent stream,     Strong with a hundred rains, beats round the piers,     Crashes with havoc, and rolls beneath its waves     Down-toppled masonry andponderous stone,     Hurling away whatever would oppose.     Even so must move the blasts of all the winds,     Which, when they spread, like to a mighty flood,     Hither or thither, drive things on before     And hurl toground with still renewed assault,     Or sometimes in their circling vortex seize     And bear in cones of whirlwind down the world:     The winds are sightless bodies and naught else--     Since both in works and waysthey rival well     The mighty rivers, the visible in form.     Then too we know the varied smells of things     Yet never to our nostrils see them come;     With eyes we view not burning heats, nor cold,     Nor are we wontmen's voices to behold.     Yet these must be corporeal at the base,     Since thus they smite the senses: naught there is     Save body, having property of touch.     And raiment, hung by surf-beat shore, growsmoist,     The same, spread out before the sun, will dry;     Yet no one saw how sank the moisture in,     Nor how by heat off-driven. Thus we know,     That moisture is dispersed about in bits     Too small for eyes tosee. Another case:     A ring upon the finger thins away     Along the under side, with years and suns;     The drippings from the eaves will scoop the stone;     The hooked ploughshare, though of iron, wastes     Amidthe fields insidiously. We view     The rock-paved highways worn by many feet;     And at the gates the brazen statues show     Their right hands leaner from the frequent touch     Of wayfarers innumerable whogreet.     We see how wearing-down hath minished these,     But just what motes depart at any time,     The envious nature of vision bars our sight.     Lastly whatever days and nature add     Little by little, constrainingthings to grow     In due proportion, no gaze however keen     Of these our eyes hath watched and known. No more     Can we observe what's lost at any time,     When things wax old with eld and foul decay,     Orwhen salt seas eat under beetling crags.     Thus Nature ever by unseen bodies works.THE VOID     But yet creation's neither crammed nor blocked     About by body: there's in things a void--     Which to have knownwill serve thee many a turn,     Nor will not leave thee wandering in doubt,     Forever searching in the sum of all,     And losing faith in these pronouncements mine.     There's place intangible, a void and room.     Forwere it not, things could in nowise move;     Since body's property to block and check     Would work on all and at an times the same.     Thus naught could evermore push forth and go,     Since naught elsewhere wouldyield a starting place.     But now through oceans, lands, and heights of heaven,     By divers causes and in divers modes,     Before our eyes we mark how much may move,     Which, finding not a void, would faildeprived     Of stir and motion; nay, would then have been     Nowise begot at all, since matter, then,     Had staid at rest, its parts together crammed.     Then too, however solid objects seem,     They yet are formedof matter mixed with void:     In rocks and caves the watery moisture seeps,     And beady drops stand out like plenteous tears;     And food finds way through every frame that lives;     The trees increase and yield theseason's fruit     Because their food throughout the whole is poured,     Even from the deepest roots, through trunks and boughs;     And voices pass the solid walls and fly     Reverberant through shut doorways of ahouse;     And stiffening frost seeps inward to our bones.     Which but for voids for bodies to go through     'Tis clear could happen in nowise at all.     Again, why see we among objects some     Of heavier weight, but ofno bulkier size?     Indeed, if in a ball of wool there be     As much of body as in lump of lead,     The two should weigh alike, since body tends     To load things downward, while the void abides,     By contrary nature,the imponderable.     Therefore, an object just as large but lighter     Declares infallibly its more of void;     Even as the heavier more of matter shows,     And how much less of vacant room inside.     That which we'reseeking with sagacious quest     Exists, infallibly, commixed with things--     The void, the invisible inane.                                  Right here     I am compelled a question to expound,     Forestalling something certainfolk suppose,     Lest it avail to lead thee off from truth:     Waters (they say) before the shining breed     Of the swift scaly creatures somehow give,     And straightway open sudden liquid paths,     Because the fishesleave behind them room     To which at once the yielding billows stream.     Thus things among themselves can yet be moved,     And change their place, however full the Sum--     Received opinion, wholly falseforsooth.     For where can scaly creatures forward dart,     Save where the waters give them room? Again,     Where can the billows yield a way, so long     As ever the fish are powerless to go?     Thus either all bodiesof motion are deprived,     Or things contain admixture of a void     Where each thing gets its start in moving on.     Lastly, where after impact two broad bodies     Suddenly spring apart, the air must crowd     Thewhole new void between those bodies formed;     But air, however it stream with hastening gusts,     Can yet not fill the gap at once--for first     It makes for one place, ere diffused through all.     And then, if haply any


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Art of War, by Sun TzuThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the termsof the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: The Art of WarAuthor: Sun TzuTranslator: Lionel GilesRelease Date: May 1994  [eBook #132][Last updated: January 14,2012]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ART OF WAR ***Note: Please see Project Gutenberg's eBook #17405 for a version ofthiseBook without the Giles commentary (that is, with only theSun Tzu text).                    SUN TZU ON THE ART OF WAR            THE OLDEST MILITARY TREATISE IN THE WORLD          Translated from the Chinese withIntroduction                       and Critical Notes                               BY                       LIONEL GILES, M.A. Assistant in the Department of Oriental Printed Books and MSS.                      in the BritishMuseum                     First Published in 1910-----------------------------------------------------------------                          To my brother                  Captain Valentine Giles, R.G.                        in the hopethat                      a work 2400 years old           may yet contain lessons worth consideration                     by the soldier of today                        this translation                  is affectionatelydedicated.-----------------------------------------------------------------Preface to the Project Gutenberg Etext--------------------------------------     When Lionel Giles began his translation of Sun Tzu's ART OFWAR, thework was virtually unknown in Europe.  Its introductionto Europe began in 1782 when a French Jesuit Father living inChina, Joseph Amiot, acquired a copy of it, and translated itinto French.  It was not a good translationbecause, according toDr. Giles, "[I]t contains a great deal that Sun Tzu did notwrite, and very little indeed of what he did."     The first translation into English was published in 1905 inTokyo by Capt. E. F. Calthrop,R.F.A.  However, this translationis, in the words of Dr. Giles, "excessively bad."  He goesfurther in this criticism:  "It is not merely a question ofdownright blunders, from which none can hope to be whollyexempt.Omissions were frequent; hard passages were willfully distortedor slurred over.  Such offenses are less pardonable.  They wouldnot be tolerated in any edition of a Latin or Greek classic, anda similar standard ofhonesty ought to be insisted upon intranslations from Chinese."  In 1908 a new edition of Capt.Calthrop's translation was published in London.  It was animprovement on the first -- omissions filled up andnumerousmistakes corrected -- but new errors were created in the process.Dr. Giles, in justifying his translation, wrote:  "It was notundertaken out of any inflated estimate of my own powers; but Icould not help feelingthat Sun Tzu deserved a better fate thanhad befallen him, and I knew that, at any rate, I could hardlyfail to improve on the work of my predecessors."     Clearly, Dr. Giles' work established much of the groundworkforthe work of later translators who published their owneditions.  Of the later editions of the ART OF WAR I haveexamined;  two feature Giles' edited translation and notes,  theother two present the same basic informationfrom the ancientChinese commentators found in the Giles edition.  Of these four,Giles' 1910 edition is the most scholarly and presents the readeran incredible amount of information concerning Sun Tzu's text,muchmore than any other translation.     The Giles' edition of the ART OF WAR, as stated above, was ascholarly work.  Dr. Giles was a leading sinologue at the timeand an assistant in the Department of Oriental PrintedBooks andManuscripts in the British Museum.  Apparently he wanted toproduce a definitive edition, superior to anything else thatexisted and perhaps something that would become a standardtranslation.  It was thebest translation available for 50 years.But apparently there was not much interest in Sun Tzu in English-speaking countries since it took the start of the SecondWorld War to renew interest in his work.  Severalpeoplepublished unsatisfactory English translations of Sun Tzu.  In1944,  Dr. Giles' translation was edited and published in theUnited States in a series of military science books.  But itwasn't until 1963 that a goodEnglish translation (by Samuel B.Griffith and still in print) was published that was an equal toGiles' translation.  While this translation is more lucid thanDr. Giles' translation, it lacks his copious notes that make hissointeresting.     Dr. Giles produced a work primarily intended for scholars ofthe Chinese civilization and language.  It contains the Chinesetext of Sun Tzu, the English translation, and voluminous notesalong withnumerous footnotes.  Unfortunately, some of his notesand footnotes contain Chinese characters; some are completelyChinese.  Thus,  a conversion to a Latin alphabet etext wasdifficult.  I did the conversion in completeignorance of Chinese(except for what I learned while doing the conversion).  Thus, Ifaced the difficult task of paraphrasing it while retaining asmuch of the important text as I could.  Every paraphraserepresents a loss;thus I did what I could to retain as much ofthe text as possible.  Because the 1910 text contains a Chineseconcordance, I was able to transliterate proper names, books, andthe like at the risk of making the text moreobscure.  However,the text, on the whole, is quite satisfactory for the casualreader, a transformation made possible by conversion to an etext.However, I come away from this task with the feeling of lossbecause I knowthat someone with a background in Chinese can do abetter job than I did; any such attempt would be welcomed.                              BobSutton                              al876@cleveland.freenet.edu                              bobs@gnu.ai.mit.edu-----------------------------------------------------------------INTRODUCTIONSun Wu and hisBook-------------------     Ssu-ma Ch`ien gives the following biography of Sun Tzu:  [1]--       Sun Tzu Wu was a native of the Ch`i State.  His ART OF  WAR brought him to the notice of Ho Lu, [2] King of Wu.  Ho  Lusaid to him:  "I have carefully perused your 13 chapters.  May I submit your theory of managing soldiers to a slight  test?"       Sun Tzu replied:  "You may."       Ho Lu asked:  "May the test be applied towomen?"       The answer was again in the affirmative, so arrangements  were made to bring 180 ladies out of the Palace.  Sun Tzu  divided them into two companies, and placed one of the King's  favorite concubines atthe head of each.  He then bade them  all take spears in their hands, and addressed them thus:   "I  presume you know the difference between front and back, right  hand and left hand?"       The girlsreplied:  Yes.       Sun Tzu went on:  "When I say "Eyes front,"  you must  look straight ahead.  When I say "Left turn," you must face  towards your left hand.  When I say "Right turn,"  you must  face towards yourright hand.  When I say "About turn,"  you  must face right round towards your back."       Again the girls assented.  The words of command having  been thus explained, he set up the halberds and battle-axes  in orderto begin the drill.  Then, to the sound of drums, he  gave the order "Right turn."  But the girls only burst out  laughing.  Sun Tzu said:  "If words of command are not clear  and distinct, if orders are not thoroughlyunderstood, then  the general is to blame."       So he started drilling them again, and this time gave  the order "Left turn," whereupon the girls once more burst  into fits of laughter.  Sun Tzu:  "If words of commandare  not clear and distinct, if orders are not thoroughly  understood, the general is to blame.  But if his orders ARE  clear, and the soldiers nevertheless disobey, then it is the  fault of their officers."       So saying, heordered the leaders of the two companies  to be beheaded.  Now the king of Wu was watching the scene  from the top of a raised pavilion; and when he saw that his  favorite concubines were about to be executed, hewas greatly  alarmed and hurriedly sent down the following message:   "We  are now quite satisfied as to our general's ability to handle  troops.  If We are bereft of these two concubines, our meat  and drink will losetheir savor.  It is our wish that they  shall not be beheaded."       Sun Tzu replied:  "Having once received His Majesty's  commission to be the general of his forces, there are certain  commands of His Majesty which,acting in that capacity, I am  unable to accept."       Accordingly,  he had the two leaders beheaded,  and  straightway installed the pair next in order as leaders in  their place.  When this had been done, the drum wassounded  for the drill once more; and the girls went through all the  evolutions, turning to the right or to the left, marching  ahead or wheeling back, kneeling or standing, with perfect  accuracy and precision, notventuring to utter a sound.  Then  Sun Tzu sent a messenger to the King saying:  "Your soldiers,  Sire, are now properly drilled and disciplined, and ready for  your majesty's inspection.  They can be put to any usethat  their sovereign may desire; bid them go through fire and  water, and they will not disobey."       But the King replied:  "Let our general cease drilling  and return to camp.  As for us, We have no wish to comedown  and inspect the troops."       Thereupon Sun Tzu said:  "The King is only fond of  words, and cannot translate them into deeds."       After that, Ho Lu saw that Sun Tzu was one who knew how  to handle an army,and finally appointed him general.  In the  west, he defeated the Ch`u State and forced his way into  Ying, the capital; to the north he put fear into the States  of Ch`i and Chin, and spread his fame abroad amongstthe  feudal princes.  And Sun Tzu shared in the might of the King.     About Sun Tzu himself this is all that Ssu-ma Ch`ien has totell us in this chapter.  But he proceeds to give a biography ofhis descendant,  Sun Pin,born about a hundred years after hisfamous ancestor's death, and also the outstanding military geniusof his time.  The historian speaks of him too as Sun Tzu, and inhis preface we read:  "Sun Tzu had his feet cut offand yetcontinued to discuss the art of war." [3]  It seems likely, then,that  "Pin" was a nickname bestowed on him after his mutilation,unless the story was invented in order to account for the name.The crowningincident of his career, the crushing defeat of histreacherous rival P`ang Chuan, will be found briefly related inChapter V. ss. 19, note.     To return to the elder Sun Tzu.  He is mentioned in twoother passages of theSHIH CHI: --       In the third year of his reign [512 B.C.] Ho Lu, king of  Wu, took the field with Tzu-hsu [i.e. Wu Yuan] and Po P`ei,  and attacked Ch`u.  He captured the town of Shu and slew the  two prince's sonswho had formerly been generals of Wu.  He  was then meditating a descent on Ying [the capital]; but the  general Sun Wu said:  "The army is exhausted.  It is not yet  possible.  We must wait"....  [After furthersuccessful  fighting,]  "in the ninth year  [506 B.C.],  King Ho Lu  addressed Wu Tzu-hsu and Sun Wu, saying:   "Formerly, you  declared that it was not yet possible for us to enter Ying.  Is the time ripe now?"  The twomen replied:  "Ch`u's general  Tzu-ch`ang, [4] is grasping and covetous, and the princes of  T`ang and Ts`ai both have a grudge against him.  If Your  Majesty has resolved to make a grand attack, you must win  overT`ang and Ts`ai, and then you may succeed."   Ho Lu  followed this advice, [beat Ch`u in five pitched battles and  marched into Ying.] [5]     This is the latest date at which anything is recorded of SunWu.  He does notappear to have survived his patron, who diedfrom the effects of a wound in 496.     In another chapter there occurs this passage:  [6]       From this time onward, a number of famous soldiers  arose, one after theother:  Kao-fan, [7] who was employed by  the Chin State; Wang-tzu, [8] in the service of Ch`i; and Sun  Wu, in the service of Wu.  These men developed and threw  light upon the principles of war.     It is obviousenough that Ssu-ma Ch`ien at least had nodoubt about the reality of Sun Wu as an historical personage; andwith one exception, to be noticed presently, he is by far themost important authority on the period inquestion.  It will notbe necessary, therefore, to say much of such a work as the WUYUEH CH`UN CH`IU, which is supposed to have been written by ChaoYeh of the 1st century A.D.  The attribution is somewhatdoubtful;but even if it were otherwise, his account would be oflittle value, based as it is on the SHIH CHI and expanded withromantic details.  The story of Sun Tzu will be found, for whatit is worth, in chapter 2.  The only newpoints in it worthnoting are:  (1)  Sun Tzu was first recommended to Ho Lu by WuTzu-hsu.  (2) He is called a native of Wu.  (3) He had previouslylived a retired life, and his contemporaries were unaware ofhisability.     The following passage occurs in the Huai-nan Tzu:   "Whensovereign and ministers show perversity of mind, it is impossibleeven for a Sun Tzu to encounter the foe."  Assuming that thiswork is genuine(and hitherto no doubt has been cast upon it), wehave here the earliest direct reference for Sun Tzu, for Huai-nanTzu died in 122 B.C., many years before the SHIH CHI was given tothe world.     Liu Hsiang (80-9 B.C.)says:  "The reason why Sun Tzu at thehead of 30,000 men beat Ch`u with 200,000 is that the latter wereundisciplined."     Teng Ming-shih informs us that the surname "Sun" wasbestowed on Sun Wu's grandfather byDuke Ching of Ch`i [547-490B.C.].  Sun Wu's father Sun P`ing, rose to be a Minister of Statein Ch`i, and Sun Wu himself, whose style was Ch`ang-ch`ing,  fledto Wu on account of the rebellion which was beingfomented by thekindred of T`ien Pao.  He had three sons, of whom the second,named Ming, was the father of Sun Pin.  According to this accountthen, Pin was the grandson of Wu, which, considering that SunPin'svictory over Wei was gained in 341 B.C., may be dismissedas chronological impossible.  Whence these data were obtained byTeng Ming-shih I do not know, but of course no reliance whatevercan be placed inthem.     An interesting document which has survived from the close ofthe Han period is the short preface written by the Great Ts`aoTs`ao, or Wei Wu Ti, for his edition of Sun Tzu.  I shall give itin full:  --       I haveheard that the ancients used bows and arrows to  their advantage. [10]  The SHU CHU mentions "the army" among  the "eight objects of government."  The I CHING says:  "'army' indicates firmness and justice;  theexperienced  leader will have good fortune."  The SHIH CHING says:  "The  King rose majestic in his wrath, and he marshaled his  troops."  The Yellow Emperor, T`ang the Completer and Wu Wang  all used spears andbattle-axes in order to succor their  generation.  The SSU-MA FA says:  "If one man slay another of  set purpose, he himself may rightfully be slain."  He who  relies solely on warlike measures shall be exterminated;he  who relies solely on peaceful measures shall perish.  Instances of this are Fu Ch`ai [11] on the one hand and Yen  Wang on the other. [12]  In military matters, the Sage's rule  is normally to keep the peace, and tomove his forces only  when occasion requires.  He will not use armed force unless  driven to it by necessity.       Many books have I read on the subject of war and  fighting; but the work composed by Sun Wu is theprofoundest  of them all.  [Sun Tzu was a native of the Ch`i state,  his  personal name was Wu.  He wrote the ART OF WAR in 13 chapters  for Ho Lu, King of Wu.  Its principles were tested on women,  and he wassubsequently made a general.  He led an army  westwards,  crushed the Ch`u state and entered Ying the  capital.  In the north, he kept Ch`i and Chin in awe.  A  hundred years and more after his time, Sun Pin lived.He was  a descendant of Wu.] [13]  In his treatment of deliberation  and planning, the importance of rapidity in taking the field,  [14] clearness of conception, and depth of design,  Sun Tzu  stands beyond the reach ofcarping criticism.  My  contemporaries, however, have failed to grasp the full  meaning of his instructions, and while putting into practice  the smaller details in which his work abounds,  they have  overlooked itsessential purport.  That is the motive which  has led me to outline a rough explanation of the whole.     One thing to be noticed in the above is the explicitstatement that the 13 chapters were specially composed forKingHo Lu.  This is supported by the internal evidence of I. ss. 15,in which it seems clear that some ruler is addressed.     In the bibliographic section of the HAN SHU, there is anentry which has given rise to muchdiscussion:  "The works of SunTzu of Wu in 82 P`IEN (or chapters), with diagrams in 9 CHUAN."It is evident that this cannot be merely the 13 chapters known toSsu-ma Ch`ien,  or those we possess today.  ChangShou-chiehrefers to an edition of Sun Tzu's ART OF WAR of which the "13chapters" formed the first CHUAN, adding that there were twoother CHUAN besides.  This has brought forth a theory, that thebulk of these 82chapters consisted of other writings of Sun Tzu--  we should call them apocryphal -- similar to the WEN TA, ofwhich a specimen dealing with the Nine Situations [15] ispreserved in the T`UNG TIEN, and another in HoShin's commentary.It is suggested that before his interview with Ho Lu, Sun Tzu hadonly written the 13 chapters, but afterwards composed a sort ofexegesis in the form of question and answer between himself andtheKing.  Pi I-hsun, the author of the SUN TZU HSU LU, backsthis up with a quotation from the WU YUEH CH`UN CH`IU:  "The Kingof Wu summoned Sun Tzu, and asked him questions about the art ofwar.  Each time heset forth a chapter of his work, the Kingcould not find words enough to praise him."  As he points out, ifthe whole work was expounded on the same scale as in the above-mentioned fragments, the total number ofchapters could not failto be considerable.  Then the numerous other treatises attributedto Sun Tzu might be included.  The fact that the HAN CHIHmentions no work of Sun Tzu except the 82 P`IEN, whereas the SuiandT`ang bibliographies give the titles of others in addition tothe "13 chapters," is good proof, Pi I-hsun thinks, that all ofthese were contained in the 82 P`IEN.  Without pinning our faithto the accuracy of details suppliedby the WU YUEH CH`UN CH`IU,or admitting the genuineness of any of the treatises cited by PiI-hsun,  we may see in this theory a probable solution of themystery.  Between Ssu-ma Ch`ien and Pan Ku there wasplenty oftime for a luxuriant crop of forgeries to have grown up under themagic name of Sun Tzu, and the 82 P`IEN may very well represent acollected edition of these lumped together with the originalwork.  It is alsopossible, though less likely, that some of themexisted in the time of the earlier historian and were purposelyignored by him. [16]     Tu Mu's conjecture seems to be based on a passage whichstates:  "Wei Wu Ti strungtogether Sun Wu's Art of War," whichin turn may have resulted from a misunderstanding of the finalwords of Ts`ao King's preface.  This, as Sun Hsing-yen pointsout, is only a modest way of saying that he made anexplanatoryparaphrase, or in other words, wrote a commentary on it.  On thewhole, this theory has met with very little acceptance.  Thus,the SSU K`U CH`UAN SHU says:  "The mention of the 13 chapters inthe SHIHCHI shows that they were in existence before the HANCHIH, and that latter accretions are not to be considered part ofthe original work.  Tu Mu's assertion can certainly not be takenas proof."     There is every reason tosuppose, then, that the 13 chaptersexisted in the time of Ssu-ma Ch`ien practically as we have themnow.  That the work was then well known he tells us in so manywords.  "Sun Tzu's 13 Chapters and Wu Ch`i's Art ofWar are thetwo books that people commonly refer to on the subject ofmilitary matters.  Both of them are widely distributed, so I willnot discuss them here."  But as we go further back, seriousdifficulties begin toarise.  The salient fact which has to befaced is that the TSO CHUAN, the greatest contemporary record,makes no mention whatsoever of Sun Wu, either as a general or asa writer.  It is natural, in view of this awkwardcircumstance,that many scholars should not only cast doubt on the story of SunWu as given in the SHIH CHI, but even show themselves franklyskeptical as to the existence of the man at all.  The mostpowerfulpresentment of this side of the case is to be found inthe following disposition by Yeh Shui-hsin: [17] --       It is stated in Ssu-ma Ch`ien's history that Sun Wu was  a native of the Ch`i State, and employed by Wu; and


ï»¿Project Gutenberg's The Marriage of William Ashe, by Mrs. Humphry WardThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use itunder the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.netTitle: The Marriage of William AsheAuthor: Mrs. Humphry WardRelease Date: November 22, 2004 [EBook#14126][This file last updated November 24, 2010]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MARRIAGE OF WILLIAM ASHE ***Produced by Andrew Templeton, Juliet Sutherland, CharlieKirschnerand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.[Illustration: LADY KITTY BRISTOL]The MarriageofWilliam AsheBYMRS. HUMPHRY WARDAuthor of "Lady Rose's Daughter" "Eleanor" etc.ILLUSTRATED BYALBERTSTERNER[Illustration]1905Contents                                  PAGEPART I. ACQUAINTANCE . . . . . . .   1PART II. THREE YEARS AFTER . . . . 125PART III. DEVELOPMENT  . . . . . . 293PART IV. STORM . . . . . . . . . .365PART V. REQUIESCAT . . . . . . . . 511TOD.M.W.DAUGHTER AND FRIENDI INSCRIBE THIS BOOKMARCH, 1905IllustrationsLADY KITTY BRISTOL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  _Frontispiece_LADY TRANMORE AND MARYLYSTER  . . . . . . . . . . . . _Facing page_   6"A SLIM GIRL IN WHITE AT THE FAR END OF THE LARGE ROOM"  . . . . . .  44THE FINISHING TOUCHES  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200"HE GATHERED HER IN HISARMS"  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278"THE ACTRESS PAUSED TO STARE AT LADY KITTY"  . . . . . . . . . . . . 438"SHE THOUGHT OF CLIFFE STANDING BESIDE THE DOOR OF THE GREAT HALL" . 474"HE DREW SOMECHAIRS TOGETHER BEFORE THE FIRE" . . . . . . . . . . . 556PART IACQUAINTANCE                              "Just oblige me and touch     With your scourge that minx Chloe, but don't hurt her much."The Marriage of WilliamAsheI"He ought to be here," said Lady Tranmore, as she turned away from thewindow.Mary Lyster laid down her work. It was a fine piece of churchembroidery, which, seeing that it had been designed for her by no lessaperson than young Mr. Burne Jones himself, made her the envy of herpre-Raphaelite friends."Yes, indeed. You made out there was a train about twelve.""Certainly. They can't have taken more than an hour tospeechify afterthe declaration of the poll. And I know William meant to catch thattrain if he possibly could.""And take his seat this evening?"Lady Tranmore nodded. She moved restlessly about the room, fidgetingwith abook here and there, and evidently full of thoughts. Mary Lysterwatched her a little longer, then quietly took up her work again. Herair of well-bred sympathy, the measured ease of her movements,contrasted with LadyTranmore's impatience. Yet in truth she waslistening no less sharply than her companion to the sounds in thestreet outside.Lady Tranmore made her way to the window, and stood there looking out onthe park. It wasthe week before Easter, and the plane-trees were notyet in leaf. But a few thorns inside the park railings were alreadylavishly green and there was a glitter of spring flowers beside the parkwalks, not showing, however,in such glorious abundance as became thefashion a few years later. It was a mild afternoon and the drive wasfull of carriages. From the bow-window of the old irregular house inwhich she stood, Lady Tranmore couldwatch the throng passing andrepassing, could see also the traffic in Park Lane on either side.London, from this point of sight, wore a cheerful, friendly air. The dimsunshine, the white-clouded sky, the touches of revivinggreen andflowers, the soft air blowing in from a farther window which was open,brought with them impressions of spring, of promise, and rebirth, whichinsensibly affected Lady Tranmore."Well, I wonder what Williamwill do, this time, in Parliament!" shesaid, as she dropped again into her seat by the fire and began to cutthe pages of a new book."He is sure to do extremely well," said Miss Lyster.Lady Tranmore shrugged hershoulders. "My dear--do you know that Williamhas been for eight years--since he left Trinity--one of the idlest youngmen alive?""He had one brief!""Yes--somewhere in the country, where all the juniors get one inturn,"said Lady Tranmore. "That was the year he was so keen and went oncircuit, and never missed a sessions. Next year nothing would inducehim to stir out of town. What has he done with himself all theseeightyears? I can't imagine.""He has grown--uncommonly handsome," said Mary Lyster, with a momentaryhesitation as she threaded her needle afresh."I never remember him anything else," said Lady Tranmore. "Alltheartists who came here and to Narroways wanted to paint him. I used tothink it would make him a spoiled little ape. But nothing spoiled him."Miss Lyster smiled. "You know, Cousin Elizabeth--and you may aswellconfess it at once!--that you think him the ablest, handsomest, andcharmingest of men!""Of course I do," said Lady Tranmore, calmly. "I am certain,moreover--now--that he will be Prime Minister. And as foridleness,that, of course, is only a _faÃ§on de parler_. He has worked hard enoughat the things which please him.""There--you see!" said Mary Lyster, laughing."Not politics, anyway," said the elder lady, reflectively. "Hewentinto the House to please me, because I was a fool and wanted to seehim there. But I must say when his constituents turned him out lastyear I thought they would have been a mean-spirited set if theyhadn't. Theyknew very well he'd never done a stroke for them.Attendances--divisions--perfectly scandalous!""Well, here he is, in triumphantly for somewhere else--with all sorts ofdelightful prospects!"Lady Tranmore sighed. Herwhite fingers paused in their task."That, of course, is because--now--he's a personage. Everything'll bemade easy for him now. My dear Mary, they talk of England's being ademocracy!"The speaker raised her handsomeshoulders; then, as though to shake offthoughts of loss and grief which had suddenly assailed her, she abruptlychanged the subject."Well--work or no work--the first thing we've got to do is to marryhim."She looked upsharply. But not the smallest tremor could she detect inMary Lyster's gently moving hand. There was, however, no reply to herremark."Don't you agree, Polly?" said Lady Tranmore, smiling.Her smile--which still gavegreat beauty to her face--was charming, buta little sly, as she observed her companion."Why, of course," said Miss Lyster, inclining her head to one side thatshe might judge the effect of some green shades she had justput in."But that surely will be made easy for him, too.""Well, after all, the girls can't propose! And I never saw him take anyinterest in a girl yet--outside his own family, of course," added LadyTranmore, hastily."No--hedoes certainly devote himself to the married women," repliedMiss Lyster, in the half-absent tone of one more truly interested in herembroidery than in the conversation."He would sooner have an hour with Madamed'EstrÃ©es than a week with theprettiest miss in London. That's quite true, but I vow it's the girls'own fault! They should stand on their dignity--snub the creaturesmore! In my young days--"[Illustration: LADYTRANMORE AND MARY LYSTER]"Ah, there wasn't a glut of us then," said Mary, calmly. "Listen!"--sheheld up her hand."Yes," said Lady Tranmore, springing up. "There he is."She stood waiting. The door flew open, andin came a tall young man."William, how late you are!" said Lady Tranmore, as she flew into hisarms."Well, mother, are you pleased?"Her son held her at arm's-length, smiling kindly upon her."Of course I am," said LadyTranmore. "And you--are you horribly tired?""Not a bit. Ah, Mary!--how do you do?"Miss Lyster had risen, and the cousins shook hands."But I don't deny it's very jolly to come back--out of all that beastlyscrimmage,"said the new member, as he threw himself into an arm-chairby the fire with his hands behind his head, while Lady Tranmore preparedhim a cup of tea."I expect you've enjoyed it," said Miss Lyster, also moving towardsthefire."Well, when you're in it there's a certain excitement in wondering howyou're going to come out of it! But one might say that, of course, ofthe infernal regions.""Not quite," said Mary Lyster, smilingdemurely."Polly! you _are_ a Tory. Everybody else's hell has moved--but yours!Thank you, mother," as Lady Tranmore gave him tea. Then, stretching outhis great frame in lazy satisfaction, he turned his brown eyesfrom onelady to the other. "I say, mother, I haven't seen anything asgood-looking as you--or Polly there, if she'll forgive me--for weeks.""Hold your tongue, goose," said his mother, as she replenished theteapot."What--there were no pretty girls--not one?""Well, they didn't come my way," said William, contentedly munching atbread-and-butter. "I have gone through all the usual humbug--andperjured my soul in all the usualways--without any consolation worthspeaking of.""Don't talk nonsense, sir," said Lady Tranmore. "You know you likespeaking--and you like compliments--and you've had plenty of both.""You didn't read me,mother!""Didn't I?" she said, smiling. He groaned, and took another piece oftea-cake."My own family at least, don't you think, might omit that?""H'm, sir--So you didn't believe a word of your own speeches?" saidLadyTranmore, as she stood behind him and smoothed his hair back from hisforehead."Well, who does?" He looked up gayly and kissed the tips of her fingers."And it's in that spirit you're going back into the House?"Mary Lysterthrew him the question--with a slight pinching of the lips--as sheresumed her work."Spirit? What do you mean, Polly? One plays the game, of course--and ithas its moments--its hot corners, so to speak--or Isuppose no one wouldplay it!""And the goal?" She lifted a gently disapproving face, in a movementwhich showed anew the large comeliness of head and neck."Why--to keep the other fellows out, of course!" He lifted anarm anddrew his mother down to sit on the edge of his chair."William, you're not to talk like that," said Lady Tranmore, decidedly,laying her cheek, however, against his hand the while. "It was all verywell when youwere quite a free-lance--but now--Oh! never mindMary--she's discreet--and she knows all about it.""What--that they're thinking of giving me Hickson's place? Parham hasjust written to me--I found the letterdown-stairs--to ask me to go andsee him.""Oh! it's come?" said Lady Tranmore, with a start of pleasure. LordParham was the Prime Minister. "Now don't be a humbug, William, andpretend you're not pleased. But you'llhave to work, mind!" She held upan admonishing finger. "You'll have to answer letters, mind!--you'llhave to keep appointments, mind!""Shall I?... Ah!--Hudson--"He turned. The butler was in the room."His lordship, mylady, would like to see Mr. William before dinner ifhe could make it convenient.""Certainly, Hudson, certainly," said the young man. "Tell his lordshipI'll be with him in ten minutes."Then, as the butler departed--"How'sfather, mother?""Oh! much as usual," said Lady Tranmore, sadly."And you?"He laid his arm boyishly round her waist, and looked up at her, hishandsome face all affection and life. Mary Lyster, observing them,thoughtthem a remarkable pair--he in the very prime and heyday ofbrilliant youth, she so beautiful still, in spite of the filling-out ofmiddle life--which, indeed, was at the moment somewhat toned anddisguised by the deepmourning, the sweeping crape and dull silk inwhich she was dressed."I'm all right, dear," she said, quietly, putting her hand on hisshoulder. "Now, go on with your tea. Mary--feed him! I'll go and talk tofather till youcome."She disappeared, and William Ashe approached his cousin."She _is_ better?" he said, with an anxiety that became him."Oh yes! Your election has been everything to her--and your letters. Youknow how sheadores you, William."Ashe drew a long breath."Yes--isn't it bad luck?""William!""For her, I mean. Because, you know--I can't live up to it. I know it'sher doing--bless her!--that old Parham's going to give me thisthing.And it's a perfect scandal!""What nonsense, William!""It is!" he maintained, springing up and standing before her, with hishands in his pockets. "They're going to offer me the Under-Secretaryshipfor ForeignAffairs, and I shall take it, I suppose, and be thankful.And do you know"--he dropped out the words with emphasis--"that I don'tknow a word of German--and I can't talk to a Frenchman for half an hourwithoutdisgracing myself. There--that's how we're governed!"He stood staring at her with his bright large eyes--amused, yetstrangely detached--as though he had very little to do with what he wastalking about.Mary Lystermet his look in some bewilderment, conscious all the timethat his neighborhood was very agreeable and stirring."But every one says--you speak so well on foreign subjects.""Well, any fool can get up a Blue Book.Only--luckily for me--all thefools don't. That's how I've scored sometimes. Oh! I don't denythat--I've scored!" He thrust his hands deeper into his pockets, hiswhole tall frame vibrant, as it seemed to her, with will andgood-humor."And you'll score again," she said, smiling. "You've got a wonderfulopportunity, William. That's what the Bishop says.""Much obliged to him!"Ashe looked down upon her rather oddly."He told me he hadnever believed you were such an idler as other peoplethought you--that he felt sure you had great endowments, and that youwould use them for the good of your country, and"--she hesitatedslightly--"of the Church. Iwish you'd talk to him sometimes, William.He sees so clearly.""Oh! does he?" said Ashe.Mary had dropped her work, and her face--a little too broad, withfeatures a trifle too strongly marked--was raised towards him. Itspalecolor had passed into a slight blush. But the more strenuous expressionhad somehow not added to her charm, and her voice had taken a slightlynasal tone.Through the mind of William Ashe, as he stood lookingdown upon her,passed a multitude of flying impressions. He knew perfectly well thatMary Lyster was one of the maidens whom it would be possible for him tomarry. His mother had never pressed her upon him, but shewouldcertainly acquiesce. It would have been mere mock modesty on his partnot to guess that Mary would probably not refuse him. And she washandsome, well provided, well connected--oppressively so, indeed; amanmight quail a little before her relations. Moreover, she and he hadalways been good friends, even when as a boy he could not refrain fromteasing her for a slow-coach. During his electoral weeks in the countrythethought of "Polly" had often stolen kindly upon his rare moments ofpeace. He must marry, of course. There was no particular excitement orromance about it. Now that his elder brother was dead and he had becometheheir, it simply had to be done. And Polly was very nice--quitesweet-tempered and intelligent. She looked well, moved well, would fillthe position admirably.Then, suddenly, as these half-thoughts rushed through hisbrain, abreath of something cold and distracting--a wind from the land of_ennui_--seemed to blow upon them and scatter them. Was it the mentionof the Bishop--tiresome, pompous fellow--or her slightlypedantictone--or the infinitesimal hint of "management" that her speech implied?Who knows? But in that moment perhaps the scales of life inclined."Much obliged to the Bishop," he repeated, walking up and down. "Iamafraid, however, I don't take things as seriously as he does. Oh, I hopeI shall behave decently--but, good Lord, what a comedy it is! You knowthe sort of articles"--he turned towards her--"our papers will bewritingto-morrow on my appointment. They'll make me out no end of afine fellow--you'll see! And, of course, the real truth is, as you and Iknow perfectly well, that if it hadn't been for poor Freddy's death--andmother--andher dinners--and the chaps who come here--I might havewhistled for anything of the sort. And then I go down to Ledmenham andstand as a Liberal, and get all the pious Radicals to work for me! It'sa humbuggingworld--isn't it?"He returned to the fireplace, and stood looking down upon her--grinning.Mary had resumed her embroidery. She, too, was dimly conscious ofsomething disappointing."Of course, if you choose to take itlike that, you can," she said,rather tartly. "Of course, everything can be made ridiculous.""Well, that's a blessing, anyway!" said Ashe, with his merry laugh. "Butlook here, Mary, tell me about yourself. What have youbeendoing?--dancing--riding, eh?"He threw himself down beside her, and began an elder-brotherlycross-examination, which lasted till Lady Tranmore returned and beggedhim to go at once to his father.When hereturned to the drawing-room, Ashe found his mother alone. Itwas growing dark, and she was sitting idle, her hands in her lap,waiting for him."I must be off, dear," he said to her. "You won't come down and seemetake my seat?"She shook her head."I think not. What did you think of your father?""I don't see much change," he said, hesitating."No, he's much the same.""And you?" He slid down on the sofa beside her and threwhis arm roundher. "Have you been fretting?"Lady Tranmore made no reply. She was a self-contained woman, not readilymoved to tears. But he felt her hand tremble as he pressed it."I sha'n't fret now"--she said after amoment--"now that you've comeback."Ashe's face took a very soft and tender expression."Mother, you know--you think a great deal too much of me--you're tooambitious for me."She gave a sound between a laugh anda sob, and, raising her hands, shesmoothed back his curly hair and held his face between them."When do you see Lord Parham?" she asked."Eight o'clock--in his room at the House. I'll send you up a note.""You'll behome early?""No--don't wait for me."She dropped her hands, after giving him a kiss on the cheek."I know where you're going! It's Madame d'EstrÃ©es' evening.""Well--you don't object?""Object?" She shrugged hershoulders. "So long as it amuses you--Youwon't find _one_ woman there to-night.""Last time there were two," he said, smiling, as he rose from the sofa."I know--Lady Quantock--and Mrs. Mallory. Now they've desertedher, Ihear. What fresh gossip has turned up I don't know. Of course," shesighed, "I've been out of the world. But I believe there have beendevelopments.""Well, I don't know anything about it--and I don't think I wantto know.She's very agreeable, and one meets everybody there.""_Everybody_. Ungallant creature!" she said, giving a little pull to hiscollar, the set of which did not please her."Sorry! Mother!"--his laughing eyespursued her--"Do you want to marryme off directly?--I know you do!""I want nothing but what you yourself should want. Of course, you mustmarry.""The young women don't care twopence about me!""William!--be abear if you like, but not an idiot!""Perfectly true," he declared; "not the dazzlers and the high-fliers,anyway--the only ones it would be an excitement to carry off.""You know very well," she said, slowly, "that now youmight marryanybody."He threw his head back rather haughtily."Oh! I wasn't thinking about money, and that kind of thing. Well, giveme time, mother--don't hurry me! And now I'd better stop talkingnonsense, changemy clothes, and be off. Good-bye, dear--you shall hearwhen the job's perpetrated!""William, really!--don't say these things--at least to anybody but me.You understand very well"--she drew herself up ratherfinely--"that if Ihadn't known, in spite of your apparent idleness, you would do any workthey _set_ you to do, to your own credit and the country's, I'd neverhave lifted a finger for you!"William Ashe laughed out."Oh!intriguing mother!" he said, stooping again to kiss her. "So youadmit you did it?"He went off gayly, and she heard him flying up-stairs three steps at atime, as though he were still an untamed Eton boy, and there werenothree weeks' hard political fighting behind him, and no interview whichmight decide his life before him.He entered his own sitting-room on the second floor, shut the doorbehind him, and glanced round him withdelight. It was a large roomlooking on a side street, and obliquely to the park. Its walls werecovered with books--books which almost at first sight betrayed to theaccustomed eye that they were the familiar companionsof a student.Almost every volume had long paper slips inside it, and when openedwould have been found to contain notes and underlinings in a somewhatreckless and destructive abundance. A large table, also loadeduntidilywith books and papers, stood in the centre of the room; many of themwere note-books, stored with evidences of the most laborious and patientwork; a Cambridge text lay beside them face downward, as he hadleft iton departure. His mother's housekeeper, who had been one of his bestfriends from babyhood, was the only person allowed to dust his room--buton the strict condition that she replaced everything as she found