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Villa Rubein, a fiction by John Galsworthy |
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Chapter 20 |
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_ Chapter XX By a stroke of Fate Mr. Treffry's return to Villa Rubein befell at the psychological moment when Herr Paul, in a suit of rather too bright blue, was starting for Vienna. As soon as he saw the carriage appear between the poplars he became as pensive as a boy caught in the act of stealing cherries. Pitching his hatbox to Fritz, he recovered himself, however, in time to whistle while Mr. Treffry was being assisted into the house. Having forgotten his anger, he was only anxious now to smooth out its after effects; in the glances he cast at Christian and his brother-in-law there was a kind of shamed entreaty which seemed to say: "For goodness' sake, don't worry me about that business again! Nothing's come of it, you see!" He came forward: "Ah! Mon cher! So you return; I put off my departure, then. Vienna must wait for me--that poor Vienna!" But noticing the extreme feebleness of Mr. Treffry's advance, he exclaimed with genuine concern: "What is it? You're ill? My God!" After disappearing for five minutes, he came back with a whitish liquid in a glass. "There!" he said, "good for the gout--for a cough--for everything!" Mr. Treffry sniffed, drained the glass, and sucked his moustache. "Ah!" he said. "No doubt! But it's uncommonly like gin, Paul." Then turning to Christian, he said: "Shake hands, you two!" Christian looked from one to the other, and at last held out her hand to Herr Paul, who brushed it with his moustache, gazing after her as she left the room with a queer expression. "My dear!" he began, "you support her in this execrable matter? You forget my position, you make me ridiculous. I have been obliged to go to bed in my own house, absolutely to go to bed, because I was in danger of becoming funny." "Look here, Paul!" Mr. Treffry said gruffly, "if any one's to bully Chris, it's I." "In that case," returned Herr Paul sarcastically, "I will go to Vienna." "You may go to the devil!" said Mr. Treffry; "and I'll tell you what--in my opinion it was low to set the police on that young chap; a low, dirty trick." Herr Paul divided his beard carefully in two, took his seat on the very edge of an arm-chair, and placing his hands on his parted knees, said: "I have regretted it since--mais, que diable! He called me a coward--it is very hot weather!--there were drinks at the Kurhaus--I am her guardian--the affair is a very beastly one--there were more drinks--I was a little enfin!" He shrugged his shoulders. "Adieu, my dear; I shall be some time in Vienna; I need rest!" He rose and went to the door; then he turned, and waved his cigar. "Adieu! Be good; get well! I will buy you some cigars up there." And going out, he shut the door on any possibility of answer. Mr. Treffry lay back amongst his cushions. The clock ticked; pigeons cooed on the veranda; a door opened in the distance, and for a moment a treble voice was heard. Mr. Treffry's head drooped forward; across his face, gloomy and rugged, fell a thin line of sunlight. The clock suddenly stopped ticking, and outside, in mysterious accord, the pigeons rose with a great fluttering of wings, and flew off'. Mr. Treffry made a startled, heavy movement. He tried to get on to his feet and reach the bell, but could not, and sat on the side of the couch with drops of sweat rolling off his forehead, and his hands clawing his chest. There was no sound at all throughout the house. He looked about him, and tried to call, but again could not. He tried once more to reach the bell, and, failing, sat still, with a thought that made him cold. "I'm done for," he muttered. "By George! I believe I'm done for this time!" A voice behind him said: "Can we have a look at you, sir?" "Ah! Doctor, bear a hand, there's a good fellow." Dawney propped him against the cushions, and loosened his shirt. Receiving no answer to his questions, he stepped alarmed towards the bell. Mr. Treffry stopped him with a sign. "Let's hear what you make of me," he said. When Dawney had examined him, he asked: "Well?" "Well," answered Dawney slowly, "there's trouble, of course." Mr. Treffry broke out with a husky whisper: "Out with it, Doctor; don't humbug me." Dawney bent down, and took his wrist. "I don't know how you've got into this state, sir," he said with the brusqueness of emotion. "You're in a bad way. It's the old trouble; and you know what that means as well as I. All I can tell you is, I'm going to have a big fight with it. It shan't be my fault, there's my hand on that." Mr. Treffry lay with his eyes fixed on the ceiling; at last he said: "I want to live." "Yes--yes." "I feel better now; don't make a fuss about it. It'll be very awkward if I die just now. Patch me up, for the sake of my niece." Dawney nodded. "One minute, there are a few things I want," and he went out. A moment later Greta stole in on tiptoe. She bent over till her hair touched Mr. Treffry's face. "Uncle Nic!" she whispered. He opened his eyes. "Hallo, Greta!" "I have come to bring you my love, Uncle Nic, and to say good-bye. Papa says that I and Scruff and Miss Naylor are going to Vienna with him; we have had to pack in half an hour; in five minutes we are going to Vienna, and it is my first visit there, Uncle Nic." "To Vienna!" Mr. Treffry repeated slowly. "Don't have a guide, Greta; they're humbugs." "No, Uncle Nic," said Greta solemnly. "Draw the curtains, old girl, let's have a look at you. Why, you're as smart as ninepence!" "Yes," said Greta with a sigh, touching the buttons of her cape, "because I am going to Vienna; but I am sorry to leave you, Uncle Nic." "Are you, Greta?" "But you will have Chris, and you are fonder of Chris than of me, Uncle Nic." "I've known her longer." "Perhaps when you've known me as long as Chris, you shall be as fond of me." "When I've known you as long--may be." "While I am gone, Uncle Nic, you are to get well, you are not very well, you know." "What put that into your head?" "If you were well you would be smoking a cigar--it is just three o'clock. This kiss is for myself, this is for Scruff, and this is for Miss Naylor." She stood upright again; a tremulous, joyful gravity was in her eyes and on her lips. "Good-bye, my dear; take care of yourselves; and don't you have a guide, they're humbugs." "No, Uncle Nic. There is the carriage! To Vienna, Uncle Nic!" The dead gold of her hair gleamed in the doorway. Mr. Treffry raised himself upon his elbow. "Give us one more, for luck!" Greta ran back. "I love you very much!" she said, and kissing him, backed slowly, then, turning, flew out like a bird. Mr. Treffry fixed his eyes on the shut door. _ |
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