酷兔英语

章节正文
文章总共2页
"He got a stomach affliction," I devilled, "so that one mouthful of



spirits turned it outside in. It were wisdom not to drink when

one's tank will not hold the drink."



While we talked Pons was gathering to my bedside my clothes for the

day.



"Drink on, my master," he answered. "It won't hurt you. You'll die

with a sound stomach."



"You mean mine is an iron-lined stomach?" I wilfully misunderstood

him.



"I mean--" he began with a quick peevishness, then broke off as he

realized my teasing and with a pout of his withered lips draped my



new sable cloak upon a chair-back. "Eight hundred ducats," he

sneered. "A thousand goats and a hundred fat oxen in a coat to keep



you warm. A score of farms on my gentleman's fine back."

"And in that a hundred fine farms, with a castle or two thrown in,



to say nothing, perhaps, of a palace," I said, reaching out my hand

and touching the rapier which he was just in the act of depositing



on the chair.

"So your father won with his good right arm," Pons retorted. "But



what your father won he held."

Here Pons paused to hold up to scorn my new scarlet satin doublet--a



wondrous thing of which I had been extravagant.

"Sixty ducats for that," Pons indicted. "Your father'd have seen



all the tailors and Jews of Christendom roasting in hell before he'd

a-paid such a price."



And while we dressed--that is, while Pons helped me to dress--I

continued to quip with him.



"It is quite clear, Pons, that you have not heard the news," I said

slyly.



Whereat up pricked his ears like the old gossip he was.

"Late news?" he queried. "Mayhap from the English Court?"



"Nay," I shook my head. "But news perhaps to you, but old news for

all of that. Have you not heard? The philosophers of Greece were



whispering it nigh two thousand years ago. It is because of that

news that I put twenty fat farms on my back, live at Court, and am



become a dandy. You see, Pons, the world is a most evil place, life

is most sad, all men die, and, being dead . . . well, are dead.



Wherefore, to escape the evil and the sadness, men in these days,

like me, seek amazement, insensibility, and the madnesses of



dalliance."

"But the news, master? What did the philosophers whisper about so



long ago?"

"That God was dead, Pons," I replied solemnly. "Didn't you know



that? God is dead, and I soon shall be, and I wear twenty fat farms

on my back."



"God lives," Pons asserted fervently. "God lives, and his kingdom

is at hand. I tell you, master, it is at hand. It may be no later



than to-morrow that the earth shall pass away."

"So said they in old Rome, Pons, when Nero made torches of them to



light his sports."

Pons regarded me pityingly.



"Too much learning is a sickness," he complained. "I was always

opposed to it. But you must have your will and drag my old body



about with you--a-studying astronomy and numbers in Venice, poetry

and all the Italian FOL-DE-ROLS in Florence, and astrology in Pisa,



and God knows what in that madman country of Germany. Pish for the

philosophers! I tell you, master, I, Pons, your servant, a poor old



man who knows not a letter from a pike-staff--I tell you God lives,

and the time you shall appear before him is short." He paused with



sudden recollection, and added: "He is here, the priest you spoke

of."



On the instant I remembered my engagement.

"Why did you not tell me before?" I demanded angrily.



"What did it matter?" Pons shrugged his shoulders. "Has he not been

waiting two hours as it is?"



"Why didn't you call me?"

He regarded me with a thoughtful, censorious eye.



"And you rolling to bed and shouting like chanticleer, 'Sing cucu,

sing cucu, cucu nu nu cucu, sing cucu, sing cucu, sing cucu, sing



cucu.'"

He mocked me with the senselessrefrain in an ear-jangling falsetto.



Without doubt I had bawled the nonsense out on my way to bed.




文章总共2页
文章标签:名著  

章节正文