第9章

I do not speak of that fictitious marble slab up there; but here, among the sandhills by this river, and at the Mount of Olives over which we passed, I do believe."He paused a moment, and then replied: "To me it is all nothing,--absolutely nothing. But then do we not know that our thoughts are formed, and our beliefs modelled, not on the outward signs or intrinsic evidences of things,--as would be the case were we always rational,--but by the inner workings of the mind itself? At the present turn of my life I can believe in nothing that is gracious.""Ah, you mean that you are unhappy. You have come to grief in some of your doings or belongings, and therefore find that all things are bitter to the taste. I have had my palate out of order too; but the proper appreciation of flavours has come back to me. Bah,--how noisome was that Dead Sea water!""The Dead Sea waters are noisome," he said; "and I have been drinking of them by long draughts.""Long draughts!" I answered, thinking to console him. "Draughts have not been long which can have been swallowed in your years.

Your disease may be acute, but it cannot yet have become chronic. Aman always thinks at the moment of each misfortune that that special misery will last his lifetime; but God is too good for that. I do not know what ails you; but this day twelvemonth will see you again as sound as a roach."We then sat silent for a while, during which I was puffing at a cigar. Smith, among his accomplishments, did not reckon that of smoking,--which was a grief to me; for a man enjoys the tobacco doubly when another is enjoying it with him.

"No, you do not know what ails me," he said at last, "and, therefore, cannot judge.""Perhaps not, my dear fellow. But my experience tells me that early wounds are generally capable of cure; and, therefore, I surmise that yours may be so. The heart at your time of life is not worn out, and has strength and soundness left wherewith to throw off its maladies. I hope it may be so with you.""God knows. I do not mean to say that there are none more to be pitied than I am; but at the present moment, I am not--not light-hearted."

"I wish I could ease your burden, my dear fellow.""It is most preposterous in me thus to force myself upon you, and then trouble you with my cares. But I had been alone so long, and Iwas so weary of it!"

"By Jove, and so had I. Make no apology. And let me tell you this,--though perhaps you will not credit me,--that I would sooner laugh with a comrade than cry with him is true enough; but, if occasion demands, I can do the latter also."He then put out his hand to me, and I pressed it in token of my friendship. My own hand was hot and rough with the heat and sand;but his was soft and cool almost as a woman's. I thoroughly hate an effeminate man; but, in spite of a certain womanly softness about this fellow, I could not hate him. "Yes," I continued, "though somewhat unused to the melting mood, I also sometimes give forth my medicinal gums. I don't want to ask you any questions, and, as a rule, I hate to be told secrets, but if I can be of any service to you in any matter I will do my best. I don't say this with reference to the present moment, but think of it before we part."I looked round at him and saw that he was in tears. "I know that you will think that I am a weak fool," he said, pressing his handkerchief to his eyes.

"By no means. There are moments in a man's life when it becomes him to weep like a woman; but the older he grows the more seldom those moments come to him. As far as I can see of men, they never cry at that which disgraces them.""It is left for women to do that," he answered.

"Oh, women! A woman cries for everything and for nothing. It is the sharpest arrow she has in her quiver,--the best card in her hand. When a woman cries, what can you do but give her all she asks for?""Do you--dislike women?"

"No, by Jove! I am never really happy unless one is near me, or more than one. A man, as a rule, has an amount of energy within him which he cannot turn to profit on himself alone. It is good for him to have a woman by him that he may work for her, and thus have exercise for his limbs and faculties. I am very fond of women. But I always like those best who are most helpless."We were silent again for a while, and it was during this time that Ifound myself lying with my head in his lap. I had slept, but it could have been but for a few minutes, and when I woke I found his hand upon my brow. As I started up he said that the flies had been annoying me, and that he had not chosen to waken me as I seemed weary. "It has been that double bathing," I said, apologetically;for I always feel ashamed when I am detected sleeping in the day.

"In hot weather the water does make one drowsy. By Jove, it's getting dark; we had better have the horses.""Stay half a moment," he said, speaking very softly, and laying his hand upon my arm, "I will not detain you a minute.""There is no hurry in life," I said.

"You promised me just now you would assist me.""If it be in my power, I will."

"Before we part at Alexandria I will endeavour to tell you the story of my troubles, and then if you can aid me--" It struck me as he paused that I had made a rash promise, but nevertheless I must stand by it now--with one or two provisoes. The chances were that the young man was short of money, or else that he had got into a scrape about a girl. In either ease I might give him some slight assistance; but, then, it behoved me to make him understand that Iwould not consent to become a participator in mischief. I was too old to get my head willingly into a scrape, and this I must endeavour to make him understand.

"I will, if it be in my power," I said. "I will ask no questions now; but if your trouble be about some lady--""It is not," said he.

"Well; so be it. Of all troubles those are the most troublesome.

If you are short of cash--"

"No, I am not short of cash."