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Within the Tides-Part2_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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consultation, and since he seems to have let you in I may just as

well tell you what is up. I shall try to be as short as I can.



But in confidence - mind!"

He waited. Renouard, his uneasiness growing on him unreasonably,



assented by a nod, and the other lost no time in beginning.

Professor Moorsom - physicist and philosopher - fine head of white



hair, to judge from the photographs - plenty of brains in the head

too - all these famous books - surely even Renouard would know. . .



.

Renouard muttered moodily that it wasn't his sort of reading, and



his friend hastened to assure him earnestly that neither was it his

sort - except as a matter of business and duty, for the literary



page of that newspaper which was his property (and the pride of his

life). The only literary newspaper in the Antipodes could not



ignore the fashionablephilosopher of the age. Not that anybody

read Moorsom at the Antipodes, but everybody had heard of him -



women, children, dock labourers, cabmen. The only person (besides

himself) who had read Moorsom, as far as he knew, was old Dunster,



who used to call himself a Moorsomian (or was it Moorsomite) years

and years ago, long before Moorsom had worked himself up into the



great swell he was now, in every way. . . Socially too. Quite the

fashion in the highest world.



Renouard listened with profoundly concealed attention. "A

charlatan," he muttered languidly.



"Well - no. I should say not. I shouldn't wonder though if most

of his writing had been done with his tongue in his cheek. Of



course. That's to be expected. I tell you what: the only really

honest writing is to be found in newspapers and nowhere else - and



don't you forget it."

The Editor paused with a basilisk stare till Renouard had conceded



a casual: "I dare say," and only then went on to explain that old

Dunster, during his European tour, had been made rather a lion of



in London, where he stayed with the Moorsoms - he meant the father

and the girl. The professor had been a widower for a long time.



"She doesn't look just a girl," muttered Renouard. The other

agreed. Very likely not. Had been playing the London hostess to



tip-top people ever since she put her hair up, probably.

"I don't expect to see any girlish bloom on her when I do have the



privilege," he continued. "Those people are staying with the

Dunster's INCOG., in a manner, you understand - something like



royalties. They don't deceive anybody, but they want to be left to

themselves. We have even kept them out of the paper - to oblige



old Dunster. But we shall put your arrival in - our local

celebrity."



"Heavens!"

"Yes. Mr. G. Renouard, the explorer, whose indomitable energy,



etc., and who is now working for the prosperity of our country in

another way on his Malata plantation . . . And, by the by, how's



the silk plant - flourishing?"

"Yes."



"Did you bring any fibre?"

"Schooner-full."



"I see. To be transhipped to Liverpool for experimental

manufacture, eh? Eminent capitalists at home very much interested,



aren't they?"

"They are."



A silence fell. Then the Editor uttered slowly - "You will be a

rich man some day."



Renouard's face did not betray his opinion of that confident

prophecy. He didn't say anything till his friend suggested in the



same meditative voice -

"You ought to interest Moorsom in the affair too - since Willie has



let you in."

"A philosopher!"



"I suppose he isn't above making a bit of money. And he may be

clever at it for all you know. I have a notion that he's a fairly



practical old cove. . . . Anyhow," and here the tone of the speaker

took on a tinge of respect, "he has made philosophy pay."



Renouard raised his eyes, repressed an impulse to jump up, and got

out of the arm-chair slowly. "It isn't perhaps a bad idea," he



said. "I'll have to call there in any case."

He wondered whether he had managed to keep his voice steady, its



tone unconcerned enough; for his emotion was strong though it had




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