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The Merry Men-Part35_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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Poor Casimir and his correspondence - his infinitesimal, timorous,

idiotic correspondence!'



He had by this time cautiously unfolded the wet letter; but, as he

bent himself to decipher the writing, a cloud descended on his



brow.

'BIGRE!' he cried, with a galvanic start.



And then the letter was whipped into the fire, and the Doctor's cap

was on his head in the turn of a hand.



'Ten minutes! I can catch it, if I run,' he cried. 'It is always

late. I go to Paris. I shall telegraph.'



'Henri! what is wrong?' cried his wife.

'Ottoman Bonds!' came from the disappearing Doctor; and Anastasie



and Jean-Marie were left face to face with the wet trousers.

Desprez had gone to Paris, for the second time in seven years; he



had gone to Paris with a pair of wooden shoes, a knitted spencer, a

black blouse, a country nightcap, and twenty francs in his pocket.



The fall of the house was but a secondarymarvel; the whole world

might have fallen and scarce left his family more petrified.



CHAPTER VIII. THE WAGES OF PHILOSOPHY.

ON the morning of the next day, the Doctor, a mere spectre of



himself, was brought back in the custody of Casimir. They found

Anastasie and the boy sitting together by the fire; and Desprez,



who had exchanged his toilette for a ready-made rig-out of poor

materials, waved his hand as he entered, and sank speechless on the



nearest chair. Madame turned direct to Casimir.

'What is wrong?' she cried.



'Well,' replied Casimir, 'what have I told you all along? It has

come. It is a clean shave, this time; so you may as well bear up



and make the best of it. House down, too, eh? Bad luck, upon my

soul.'



'Are we - are we - ruined?' she gasped.

The Doctor stretched out his arms to her. 'Ruined,' he replied,



'you are ruined by your sinister husband.'

Casimir observed the consequentembrace through his eyeglass; then



he turned to Jean-Marie. 'You hear?' he said. 'They are ruined;

no more pickings, no more house, no more fat cutlets. It strikes



me, my friend, that you had best be packing; the present

speculation is about worked out.' And he nodded to him meaningly.



'Never!' cried Desprez, springing up. 'Jean-Marie, if you prefer

to leave me, now that I am poor, you can go; you shall receive your



hundred francs, if so much remains to me. But if you will consent

to stay ' - the Doctor wept a little - 'Casimir offers me a place -



as clerk,' he resumed. 'The emoluments are slender, but they will

be enough for three. It is too much already to have lost my



fortune; must I lose my son?'

Jean-Marie sobbed bitterly, but without a word.



'I don't like boys who cry,' observed Casimir. 'This one is always

crying. Here! you clear out of this for a little; I have business



with your master and mistress, and these domestic feelings may be

settled after I am gone. March!' and he held the door open.



Jean-Marie slunk out, like a detected thief.

By twelve they were all at table but Jean-Marie.



'Hey?' said Casimir. 'Gone, you see. Took the hint at once.'

'I do not, I confess,' said Desprez, 'I do not seek to excuse his



absence. It speaks a want of heart that disappoints me sorely.'

'Want of manners,' corrected Casimir. 'Heart, he never had. Why,



Desprez, for a clever fellow, you are the most gullible mortal in

creation. Your ignorance of human nature and human business is



beyond belief. You are swindled by heathen Turks, swindled by

vagabond children, swindled right and left, upstairs and



downstairs. I think it must be your imagination. I thank my stars

I have none.'



'Pardon me,' replied Desprez, still humbly, but with a return of

spirit at sight of a distinction to be drawn; 'pardon me, Casimir.



You possess, even to an eminent degree, the commercialimagination.

It was the lack of that in me - it appears it is my weak point -



that has led to these repeated shocks. By the commercial

imagination the financier forecasts the destiny of his investments,



marks the falling house - '

'Egad,' interrupted Casimir: 'our friend the stable-boy appears to






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